Win! One Of 10 Copies Of Total War: Rome II

Total War: Rome II is coming out next week and that's a pretty big deal, but do you know what else is big? Those crazy massive screenshots that SEGA released to show off the scale of the battlefield in the Total War games. The last one SEGA released had a 30000 x 6116 resolution. Insane.

So when we were asked if we'd like to do a comp to celebrate the release of the game, I jumped at the chance, because I already had an idea for a competition based on that screenshot.

Look at this man. Look at him. I found him by randomly scrolling around this ludicriously large screenshot. What is this guy's story? Why did he grow that moustache? Why does he look a bit bored? Did he want to go and fight in this war or was he forced? I'm going to call him George. He has a moustache because his wife likes it. He's not actually bored, he's focused. No he doesn't like war, but it's a steady wage so whatever.

Here's what I want you to do: I want you download this stupidly large image of Total War: Rome II. I want you to scroll through this massive image. I want you to find your very own 'George'. I want you to screencap him, give him his own name and I want you tell me his story. In less than 500 words I want you to tell me everything about this guy. Best, funniest, most interesting entries win.

Just drop it in the comments below alongside a link to the screencap of the man in question.

Terms and conditions can be found here.


    Awesome competition idea :D. An intetesting change from the usual types!

    EDIT: I'm not entering but I look forward to these entries :D. The pic is huuuuuge D:

    Last edited 26/08/13 10:01 pm

    Gaius Licinius Magnus was having a terrible day.

    It was bad enough that he’d been posted to this gods-forsaken tiny Roman outpost in the middle of the Alps, surrounded by barbarians, but now he was actually expected to talk to them? They couldn’t even speak like a proper Roman, and even the ones who had learned his language had accents so thick they gave him a headache. He’d protested loudly to his commander that morning – what could the Senate want with savages who thought running around dressed in wolf skins was a good idea? – but apparently spreading the glory of the Republic and impressing those peoples not blessed with the wonders of civilisation actually meant speaking with them.

    Such indignity. He’d served four campaigns against the Gauls and now Rome was making nice with them. Sending centurions to handle trade negotiations, as if he even knew the right way to hold a quill. It was preposterous, and Gaius guessed some fat-cat Senators in the capital who owned half the country were simpering about “profits” and congratulating themselves on how clever they were. Exchanging good Roman products for some rubbish barbarian trinkets - he had half a mind to tell the delegation just where they could shove their treaty.

    The location wasn’t improving his mood. The northernmost parts of Roman influence were drab, cold and undeveloped – the soldiers under his command were constantly moaning about losing feet to frostbite, the wimps – and when they weren’t signing trade agreements with obscure self-important tribes that nobody would ever care about, they were dying of boredom. The place didn’t even have an arena for some satisfying murderous bloodsport; his legionnaires lazed around all day ‘cavorting’ with the locals and fathering illegitimate children. There wasn’t even a cask of good wine for a hundred miles, and he’d kill for a bathhouse or six.

    At the end of a 25-year voluntary service, this wasn’t how he’d imagined the twilight of his career. Gaius had been sent up and down Roman territory, dealing with rebellions, foreign invasions, slave revolts and one particularly moronic Senator who kept carping on about destroying Carthage. The motivations of his rulers were sometimes mystifying but he’d followed orders without question – they were the ones paying him, and a lifetime in the legion meant a nice parcel of money and farmland when it came to retire.

    Thinking of the future didn’t make his day any better, though. Future land and grandchildren were nice ideas, but they wouldn’t finish a trade deal or get him out of this northern wasteland any quicker. He could only stand on the shoreline looking down at distant Italia – with all its riches and glory – and get back to carrying out his orders. Rome demanded it.

    - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
    A new notification appeared on the campaign map.

    Trade agreement reached: Gauls (+473 denarii per turn)

    Last edited 26/08/13 10:04 pm

    Great Idea, Looking forward to the submissions,

    OK.... Here is mine:

    This is Dan:

    Her real name is Danni, but a clerical mistake on her birth certificate costed her identity, and subsequently her independence. Her name has came up in the latest rounds on conscription.

    At first she was going to be dismissed as only males were supposed to be up for conscription. But for fear of disrespecting her family's name, she has willingly joined the cause to fight for the kingdoms independence and expansion.

    At first it was a little awkward for Dan, being the only female she was picked on by the other men, there were no female toilets, sleeping quarters or change rooms, it was hard and she felt alone. undeterred, Dan has made this into a positive, and has become a voice of change in the armed force. pushing for reforms in gender equality within the rank.

    This has filtered down into other parts of society not just in the army. Ladies have since rallied behind her in support, picketing and lobbying the king for change, there is even talk of a new ruler, a QUEEN this time! Times really have changed in this little kingdom, hopefully, for the good. Only time will tell.

    Last edited 26/08/13 3:28 pm

    "Not So Caring Dave"

    "Ain't no mountain high, ain't no valley low, ain't no river wide enough.... You get it, because I'm tall?... no? Ma thought it was funny"

    "No Dave, that was not funny. Not one bit. You just stick to smoking God's awful creation.

    As you can see, Dave isn't the smartest mortal around. He spends his days in a cloud of smoke, taking puffs from his cigarette, pondering what idea's to come up with to impress his King Joffrey. Now this was quite the mission for Dave. As a kid Dave was brought up by his two elder siblings, who happened to enjoy torture. Unfortunately for him he was automatically sacrificed to endure the pain. This went on for many of years, and once Dave was old enough to leave his shack, he proceeded to do so.

    Now, when Dave's King Joffrey says "Impress me", Dave instantly thinks "Hmm that small village over the hills will be easy to take, I could torture them for King Joffrey's pleasure". No Dave! That is not what he means! As all mortals know, King Joffrey is the most caring King in the whole realm, and if he ever saw something like that you'd be sentenced to 3 days milking cattle! (which is frowned upon by other males). As the narrator of this story, for your sake Dave, I'll come up with a plan for you. I'll do all the hard work and all you'll have to do is follow what I say. Dave... DAVE! Uh sorry readers, Dave is a bit out of it at the moment, we'll follow this up in the next paragraph.

    Okay Dave, did you get all that? "yeah, yeah I go" Ah Dave shh, we're back on. Very sorry about that. Back to the story... and now everyone in the Realm calls Dave "Caring Dave" and he's an official Care Duty officer of the Kings watch. Oh wait that's not right. That's how we hoped it turned out. Dave died a slow painful death while picking Flowers for his King. Our plan was to bring the king some dandelions and a white bunny rabbit. How was I to know he had bad allergies to Dandelions. Is that even possible?... And little did we know, the effects of this gave King Joffery the title "The Mad King", and he demanded Dave's head on a stake. Till this day, Dave's head still sits on the stake, the whole Realm from the furthest end of the North to the South can gaze at it all day everyday as it was so abnormally large.

    Well sorry to cut the story short, but that's how it ended.

    Last edited 26/08/13 9:21 pm

    Love this idea. I might enter for the hell of it, but don't really want the prize.
    This is Frank. He doesn’t actually know what he’s doing here. He got told to stand here by someone a little while ago and is starting to think they’ve forgotten about him. He’s also starting to wonder about the bananas they told him to tie to his helmet, as nobody else seems to be wearing any fruit on their hats. “Listen, Frank.” They said. “We have a very special mission for you. You need to go and stand in the middle of all these pointy things and… make sure nobody steals any of them. You can take that nice flaggy thing you made with you. The one with the dead fish and that weird self-portrait you did that looks like a nonce’s mugshot. Oh and here’s your fruit helmet. Very important.” He knows there is most likely a very fun war going on somewhere and that he’s deliberately being left out of it. He is cold, he misses his mud house and he would probably leave if he wasn’t so mesmerised by those tiny, tiny horses.

    Wilbur Garrius - Unwilling Gardener

    “Mow the lawns, Wilbur! The garden’s looking overgrown, Wilbur!” Of course the garden’s bloody overgrown, devil woman! Look at all these trees you’ve put in here! Germanic Ironbark?? Are you TRYING to kill me? If it was up to me I’d concrete the whole damn lot of it, like the Constanzas over in Athens! Now THAT’S landscaping! But no, you wanted to live in the middle of bloody nowhere, didn’t you? I can’t believe I let you talk me into it. You and that bloody mother of yours, always on about the joys of living off the land. What sort of madman trades plumbing for shitting in the woods? Gods, I miss the days of being able to take a dump without first checking for bears. You want to know why I’m so highly strung? I can’t even remember the last time I was able to de-clench!
    “But it’s so beautiful and peaceful, Wilbur! So serene!” That’s all well and good until you’ve got to cut down half a bloody forest without so much as an axe! What even is this thing? What sort of luddite town doesn’t have a Bunnings, or even a Mitre 10? How can anyone be expected to get any work done around the yard when there’s nowhere to buy any tools? Peaceful nothing! You want serenity? Here’s your damn serenity! HOW’S THE SERENITY, WOMAN?? *flails wildly at the undergrowth*

    Last edited 26/08/13 4:24 pm

    Sounds like a fun competition i shall enter myself.

    Rob - The Dentist Cosplayer

    This is Rob, he's a dentist so we can't show you his face in Total War: Rome II. On his days off, Rob cosplays as a medieval warrior! Rob brushes his teeth regularly. With the blood of his enemies. He uses their bones as his toothbrush handle, the hair off their scalp as his bristles. Robs possibly a little too much into his cosplaying.

    If you were a dentist though, with the money Rob had… a hot wife… a kickass car… a magic staff. Because Rob is not only a Dentist. Rob is a wizard. That’s no walking stick that’s for sure. A goddamn wizard. A dentist wizard. Who fights the goddamn romans. A roman fighting goddamn dentist wizard who cleans his teeth with the hair, blood and bones of his enemies.
    Under that robe, Robs riding a tiny dinosaur. A tiny velociraptor. That’s right. Robs a tiny velociraptor riding, dentist-wizard who cleans his teeth with the hair, blood and bones of his enemies.

    He’s also the most handsome bastard on the battlefield. You’d faint if you saw his face. Seriously. He’s so photogenic. The moment the enemy lay eyes on him, he numbs their hatred like novacaine numbs a sore tooth. He extracts their true feelings like dental pliers extracts a broken molar. He’s been known to convert the straightest of men, to swoon the most monogamous of women… he’s the literal gods gift to humanity. Chuck Norris is jealous of Robs looks. That’s just how handsome Rob is.

    But we can’t show you Robs face. Because Rob is a dentist.

    Screw you Australian Dental Association. You’ve robbed everyone here of the chance to fall in love on the battlefield. That one, true chance to find true… absolute love… until now… be happy with this blurred photo of Rob in all his robed, blurry glory.

    Because Rob, is gods gift to men and women, Rob rides a tiny dinosaur under his robe, Rob cleans his teeth with the bones, blood and hair of his enemies, rob is a wizard and most important of all… Rob is a Dentist.

    And goddamn it. That’s why we cannot show you his face…

    MY GOD!!
    Challenge accepted, good sir. *adjusts monocle*

    This is Gunter, son of Garlag; also known as Gunter the Gaul, or Gunter the weasel-switcher.

    Unbeknownst to Gunter, he was destined to change the course of history and inspire numerous great men such as; Ambrose Burnside, George Best and The Wolverine. This is Gunters' story. This is the (abbridged) story of the mutton chop.

    When Gunter was upon the cusp of manhood, he was determined to impress a pretty-ish young Gaulish girl by slaying a wild boar. Instead Gunter managed to get on the bad side of a pack of weasels. The aftermath of his encounter left Gunters cheeks horribly maimed and being the vain individual he was, this destroyed him emotionally and confined him to his hut.

    Yet one day, many months after his attack, Gunter emerged with his glorious mutton chops covering his scars. He immediately got the girl, and henceforth spends every spare moment he has hunting down weasels and clobbering them with the flat of his sword. Earning himself the name weasel-switcher in the process.


    A few words over the threshold, but I feel the story of Gunter and the mutton chop has been overlooked in history far too readily.

    Last edited 26/08/13 4:12 pm

    This is Bob... That is where Bob left his sword....

    Further down the road there are rebels awaiting to ambush Bob... Bob is gonna get owned...

    Placeholder! dying for this game but broke till the 15th!

    Actaeon knew from an early age that he wasn't like the other boys in village. When he was barely 3 years old he was already taller than the most strapping youths of the Legion. Outcast, branded a freak and a monster, a cruel joke from the Gods he was cast out and forced to live on his own in the countryside.

    Taking solace in the fact that Romulus and Remus themselves were raised by wolves, he saw it as a challenge upon the very glory of Rome to live, and be strong, and to grow. And grow he did, soon surpassing the tallest tree in the forest, and an ever present reminder to the village of what they had cast aside.

    He still mourns the life he could have had, playing, laughing, loving, like normal boys. When he descends from the hilltop he can see in to the basilica, and for a brief moment until his shadow blots out the sun, he can see the happy faces of the village... at least until his presence is spotted.

    One day, the sadness may end. Perhaps he'll leave and search for a 50 foot woman to keep him company. Perhaps he'll set out for the lands of the far East, find a nice island to settle down on, maybe raise some lizards. Or perhaps... just perhaps... he'll take revenge on the village that rejected him.

    Last edited 26/08/13 5:52 pm

    This is Eric.
    Eric wishes he was a ninja instead of a bloodthirsty barbarian and unstoppable conqueror of nations. Why you ask?

    Because ninja's are cool thats why. They get to dress all in black (green, yellow and brown? ewww), they get masks (metal hats? ridiculous), no one knows they are around until it's too late (you try hiding behind a giant piece of brightly painted wood see how you like it), they get awesome little throwie star things which he is certain make an awesome sound as they fly through the air before maiming someone horribly, possibly himself he doesn't mind as long as it looks cool.

    All those other Generals wouldn't know what was going on if he could be a ninja, no more sneaking an entire army slowly through forests to burn a town to the ground for insulting his mother, no more throwing away his fortune on boring old diplomacy so he can pass by that cozy little village he has absolutely no intention of looting and pillaging as soon as you arent looking, he wouldn't even have to run up to people to hit them with his sword anymore.


    All of lifes little problems solved if only he could be a ninja.
    Ninjas are cool.

    Last edited 26/08/13 6:44 pm

    Readin the stories then looking at the pics makes for a really entertaining evening.

    If I get a prize someone else can have it. Looking forward to my pre-ordered Collector's Edition instead :-D

    Entry to come later on

    This is Tom.

    Tom was always a dreamer. When Village life, fishing anchovies on the Corsican coast became too much Tom left to join the service of the Roman Legion.

    He rose quickly. The sword became an extension of his arm. His shield would move seemingly with a life of its own. In practice drills, Tom would reign time after time. But despite the glowing praise of his commanders, few were keen of sense enough to observe that despite his adept soldiering - that subtle gaze of distance was always there with him. Tom was not a a man at peace.

    Years passed. Tom rose to front rank of its division. He qualified as a Centurion. He served under Golden Eagle Standard of Caesar himself . But Tom never found his peace. Something was not quite right.

    One day, after commanding an ambush of a Tuscan Village under the enemy command - Tom begun to stare off into the distance - much the way he always had. He looked up at the sky. And that is when reality dawned on Tom.

    For Tom realised it then. He was just a character in somebody else's video game. He had neither free will not agency over his own life. He did not arguably even have physical form. he was virtual. Nonexistant. Lifeless. Fake. He lived but to serve the designs of those that ran his source code.

    And that is when, looking out over the vast expanses of pixels surrounding him, he realised he did have a voice. He did matter. For somewhere, far far off in a distant land, an individual named hayaku was writing his life story on the internet. Hayaku was bringing him to life. He did have a voice, he did have a soul. He was now a part of something much bigger - much greater. He was part of the life force of something that did matter. Hayaku had given him life, had given him substance.

    And in return, Tom had something of his own to return to hayaku. It was all Tom really posessed - all Tom could truly say he owned. And that was his code. And thus, in return for giving Tom the gift of identity - for bringing Tom into being - Tom rewarded hayaku with the gift of a free copy of Rome: Total War II.

    And Tom was at Peace.

    Right in the middle of a battle, Gary just couldn't hold it any longer...

    Aerreus had always wanted to be posted by the sea, but not like this. An experienced veteran of the Second Punic War, Aerreus had helped to defeat the monster Hannibal the Carthaginian and liberated the people of Iberia from his tyrannical occupation. Aerreus should have been lauded. Senators and Merchants should have lined up to thank him, and yet here he was, guarding a lonely promontory with a troop that was far from the Empire's finest.

    Where had it all gone wrong, he'd been asked by a fellow soldier. Aerreus knew exactly where it had gone wrong. It was the joke.

    Aerreus had been presented before the consul, Marcus Claudius Marcellus, to be honored for his gallantry during the battle of Cannae. It had all gone well, until the Emperor had invited him to his table. Being a good Northern boy, Aerreus hadn't been brought up with the strong Southern vino so he'd had a few too many and started telling jokes. The one that undid him wasn't even that bad.

    He'd said to the Consul:

    "A man from Kyme was so ill that his doctor despaired of him. However, he recovered. But he kept avoiding the doctor. Finally, the Doctor managed to corner him and ask why. and he said, '

    I'm embarrassed to be seen alive after you said I was going to die*!"

    It wasn't a dirty joke, that's not what undid him. No, it was the fact the the Consul's wife had found it amusing. Too Amusing. After a fit of giggles, she'd choked on a mouthful of Grapes and died, and Aerreus went from being the hero of the empire to the Consul's wife's killer. Marcellus had wanted him thrown to the Lions, but his military record had allowed him to get away with only a demotion and this terrible posting.

    As he looked out onto the ocean, through the fog, Aerreus though to himself...

    Eh, it was still funny.

    * Actual ancient Roman Joke

    Last edited 26/08/13 9:31 pm

    Cleavus - the stealer of scabs

    Cleavus had the good sense of being born into a family of nobles. It was fortunate due to the fact that Cleavus was special. That is to say, he pursued odd hobbies and behaved in a way that would get a normal barbarian into an intimate encounter with a razor sharp throwing axe. He took up the time honored barbarian tradition of alcohol abuse at the age of 9. This is not exactly early by barbarian standards, but the difference here was that Cleavus chose to ferment his own beverages. Being quite adventurous he often consumed substances that were the result of things that should not be fermented. Take shoes, or flamingo milk for example. It is unclear what psychotropic effects these substances had on his developing brain, but considering they also doubled as a potent weed killer and gave greek fire a run for its money its safe to assume they did not aid his cause.

    Now Cleavus came to find that he was now on the frontlines of battle for many reasons. Chief among them being that a fortnight past, a social gathering of the nobility was taking place in which Cleavus interrupted the merriment by throwing a glass of wine at the King's crotch. Now unfortuantely for Cleavus, in his excitement he had neglected to hold onto the quarter inch thick, iron cup which contained the wine. The cup followed the wine's example and landed in precisely the same place. Reportedly making the same sound as dropping a bag of boiled crabs onto a rock. Cleavus would later be heard claiming that the king was actually a "circus gypsy in disguise who steals my scabs in my sleep". This should have been seen as an omen as he later took up the habbit of stealing other people's scabs with a religous fervor. His hidden reservoir of ill gotten scabs was never actually found though. It is more than likely that he concealed it somewhere after realising the King had found his cup throwing habbit so funny that he was sending him to the frontlines of battle!

    So here Cleavus found himself, out on the frontlines. Much to his peers' dismay he came to many realisations in his time out there. Most distressing to his comrades was that he had concluded "clothes are calcifying the energy glands inside our brains so we cannot use our third eyes to open our chakras". This resulted in his being naked 100% of the time. Secondly, he took to sneaking. Everywhere. It was often safest to assume that every shrub had the potential to contain a naked, wide eyed Cleavus. Thus he could often be seen as he is in the above screenshot, submerged in some bushes, hiding behind his fellow warriors. More than likely eyeing off any scabs left unguarded, waiting for his chance to scurry up and peel it off in one swift motion and scamper back into his leafy den.

    Last edited 27/08/13 10:11 pm

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