Win $1000 With The Iron Controller: Chapter 2

Last week The Iron Controller finished with high drama — a prophetic dream... a plane crash?

Now stranded in the mountains of Tibet, ravaged by a fierce Blizzard, how will our hero (me) survive?

All these questions are answered and more in The Iron Controller: Chapter 2.

Kotaku's Iron Controller series is brought to you by Netflix and Marvel's Iron Fist. Danny Rand is an orphan, Monk, billionaire and living weapon. After a 15 year absence he returns to NYC to reclaim his family legacy. Marvel's Iron Fist premieres March 17th only on Netflix.

Also, today we're giving you the opportunity to win $1000 as part of a $5000 prize pool we're spreading out across the five chapters of The Iron Controller.

But first, chapter 2 of THE IRON CONTROLLER!



The Competition

In association with Netflix and Iron Fist, we're giving away a total of $5000 across five separate posts — $1000 for every chapter of The Iron Controller.

After each chapter we'll ask a question. The person with the best answer wins $1000 to help upgrade their home entertainment units!

Question #2...

In 500 words or less, what's the coldest you've ever been?

Once all five chapters are complete, we'll announce all the winners of each individual competition!

Terms and conditions can be found here.

Want to jump to the next chapters? Here you go!

Win $1000 With Chapter 3 Of... The Iron Controller

Living in a weird cave in tibet with a team of pro gamers. Check.

Found The Iron Controller. Check.

Now what do we do with the damn thing?

Now the training begins...

Welcome to Chapter 3 of... The Iron Controller.

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Chapter 4 Of The Iron Controller (And Win $1000!)

When we last left The Iron Controller things were getting complicated. Mark was deep in training, while Alex was scheming, bending Kotaku Australia to his own, insane will.

Today, in chapter 4, Mark will finally unlock the true secrets of The Iron Controller. And prepare for the ULTIMATE BATTLE.

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Win $1000 In The Final Chapter Of... The Iron Controller

It has finally come to this. The ultimate showdown. Mark versus Alex.

Who will prevail?

(It's also your last chance to win cash-money to upgrade your home entertainment. There's also that.)

Read more


Comments

    i once ate some dippen dots while listening to foriegners cold as ice... so yeah
    i live in qld, the coldest i get is when i leave the aircon on 22 overnight.

    I once went out to Finke for the rally... in shorts and thongs. We camped for two days and I ran out of rum ten hours in.

    Poor life decisions.

      Holy shit
      I have made some poor decisions man but hands down forgetting to pack extra rum is way worse than anything i have ever heard.

        So much waiting, no rum.. its enough to push a man to read Breitbart or Buzzfeed. I kid.

    I once fell through the ice into some water. It was pretty cold. It could perhaps explain some of my ... behavioral issues. I was on the toboggan and just went in the wrong area.

    It's the only time I've ever been to the snow.

    I'll never forget that moment. We were making the run of our lives. We had made it so far, yet the hordes of enemies continued pursue us relentlessly. They wished to end us, but we would not be stopped. It felt like together we could truly accomplish the impossible. We scaled impossible mountains, plumbed the depths of the abyss. As a team, we felt unstoppable. My steed had carried me through hell, and I knew that without him I would have been a dead man by now. But…

    Even now, I still don’t know what else I could have done. Every detail of that moment was burned into my mind, but I still can’t say for sure. The jump should have been simple, but suddenly we found ourselves falling short of the other side, with nothing but cold emptiness below us. Should I have pushed him harder? Did I push him too hard? Did this happen because I had driven my dearest friend to the point of exhaustion? I know in any other circumstances I would have surely given my life for his, but in that moment…I only thought of her. As we both started to fall, the fear that we wouldn’t reach the other side became a certainty, yet I remembered why we had fought so hard, what brought us to that moment. It was all for her. She was trapped by a fate she didn’t deserve, stolen from her home, her kingdom. After all she had done for us, we vowed to do anything and everything to reach her. We had to save her.

    So as we started to fall, I knew what I had to do. I had no choice. I had to reach her. I steeled my nerve and looked at my friend, but I’ll never forget the look he gave back. He knew what I was about to do, but….no, no I had to do it. it was the only way. Surely he had to understand! We had both sacrificed so much for her, we couldn’t let her down. If we both died there, her fate would have been sealed! One of us HAD TO continue.

    I gritted my teeth, and with all my strength, I leapt from his back for the platform that still seemed so far away. As I jumped, a second felt like an eternity, until finally, my outstretched hand felt the hard impact of the ledge above. I looked down and for one last time, and locked eyes with my green friend as he descended into the abyss. That single moment, a fraction of a second, left a deep coldness in my heart that still has not left me to this day. I knew what I had to do, I knew the princess had to be saved, yet I had not prepared myself for the price I would have to pay.

    My girlfriend and I were in Inverness, Scotland. It had been cold, temperature nudging closer to 0 but with no snow in sight. One day I awoke to see snow falling outside. It had snowed all night and the rooftops were covered in white. We put on three layers of clothing and made our way outside. I had a beanie and a scarf on, but I’ll never understand how people manage to keep their noses warm without resorting to a balaclava. Maybe a cold nose is just something you just get used to eventually.

    We had plans that day to visit Culloden, the location of the last pitched battle in the UK. The bus to the site had to make a U-turn in the car park to head back into town. The back wheels slipped in the newly formed snow and the bus veered before the wheels could grip the road again. Looking back, it feels like some sort of amusement ride, but at the time we didn’t know if we were going to crash.

    We hung out in the car park, enjoying the cold. First we were just picking up clumps of snow in our hands, amazed that the white powder clung together when pressed instead of melting and disappearing into water, as snow in Australia usually seems to. This upgraded to a good natured snowball fight before we remembered where we were and made our way into the visitors centre. I remember thinking that the crunching noise of the snow as we walked through it was unlike anything I had heard before.

    The site is historic and sombre, and we had to switch between reverence for the thousands of people who died at that site and the exhilarating feeling of seeing snow, giggling like anime school girls. Queensland was in the middle of a heat wave, and we would never feel this cold again for the rest of the year.

    We built a snowman along the tourist path. A stunted little thing, only about 15cms high and without a face. As we neared the end of the tourist walk through the battlefield, we noticed that someone had built a giant snowball and left it beside one of the information signs. This thing came up to my hips. The idea that someone could live in a climate with enough snow to be able to gain these skills was alien to me. To me they were some sort of fictional snow wielding sorcerer.

    As we made our way home, the snow started to melt and our shoes, socks and feet were saturated and freezing. At the end of the day we were jacked up and excited. The first day of snow! Surely there would be snow for the rest of our adventure no matter where we went!

    It was the only day of snow we experienced during our month long UK trip. I’ve been back for 3 weeks and I’m still not adjusting to the Queensland weather.

    The day I was made redundant after recently having a work related back injury, the company screwed me out of a payout and I was left unable to work and and without a job.

    It was a miserable Melbourne day, rain heavy, cold and gloomy sky, I parked my car at home and just sat, after a good twenty minutes of staring into space hands still on the wheel, I undid my seatbelt and got out.

    I didn't go inside, I just walked in pain in the rain with even the coolness of the rain not effecting me, my emotions had turned to ice, I felt numb, I walked for a few kms before going home, just walking in the rain....

    (Edit: this is actually a real thing that happened to me, so if anyone comments on it please be nice, it was a really upsetting time of my life)

    Last edited 22/03/17 2:20 pm

    Every bloody winter. And autumn. And half of the other seasons too. As soon as the temperature drops below 21, I start complaining about how cold it is. So this also includes any time I'm in some kind of office setting where they have the air con running and I'm just sitting there dying and hoping it blows up and stops working.

    And yet during a trip to Japan during winter, snow and all, I actually came back with a bit of a tan. Every day was somewhere between -2 and 10, yet I spent each of those days running around in a t-shirt. Mine were the only arms I saw bared outdoors the entire trip. I don't get it.

    Probably 20 minutes after being heated up in the microwave.

    Below sub-zero.

      Gosh I was hoping for a joke about sexually harassing the MK character. I don't know why, I just read it and my mind started to drift.

    I flew down to Melbourne late last year from Brisbane to go see Mariachi El Bronx at Werribee. I was geared up for the 30+ days, but not really prepared for the cold and storm than hit when they played.

    I remember being numb, watching the band struggle to play in the cold (surprising they could play instruments at all) But it being the BEST gig I've been to.

    During a heated (see what I did there?) argument with my best friend, I sat there and verbally ripped her to shreds. Pulled out all her faults. I really won't recount it. It's quite the shameful experience and repeating some of the things I said about her isn't fair on a public forum like this.
    I was Ice Cold. That's definitely the coldest I've ever been. My tongue used to have quite the spiteful streak. I'm a much more mature person these days. The cutting power of my tongue abated in part because of that experience.

    Happy Ending: We are still friends years later, and are both learning to argue in a healthy manner. I think.

    I was living in Japan, and my housemate was leaving at the end of the week. We decided to have one final adventure. We would climb Mt Fuji!
    We spent the night drinking and working out how to get there, then the next morning I skipped work and we left, more than a little hungover.

    We probably should have done more research. Climbing season was over and just getting to the mountain was a trek. We arrived late in the afternoon, bought novelty walking sticks and posed in the sun front of the sign that marked the first stop of the climb. It was the last photo the camera would ever take...
    Again, we did very little research. Turns out we had decided to climb Mt Fuji during a forecasted typhoon!

    Hours later we had climbed almost to the top, but it was pitch black and we were whipped by howling wind and rain. We managed to find one hostel/camp that was still open. We went inside, there was the owner and 3 gnarly looking Japanese climbers, with proper gear, even oxygen. We were 2 soaking wet Gaijin in cargo shorts, just happy to be alive. (Sidenote they gave us a list of 30 essentials to climb Mt Fuji. We had 8 between us!)

    I needed to pee, unfortunately the bathrooms were outside and about 100 metres down the road. The owner lent me the umbrella that serviced people wanting to use the umbrella. I stepped outside. It was bad. The wind instantly tore the umbrella apart, leaving just a piece of the handle. I ran through the darkness and into the bathroom. As I reached it torrential rain began.

    After using the toilet I decided to stay inside and wait out the rain. After about 5 minutes I was feeling cold. After 10, I was shivering relentlessly. After 15, I actually thought to myself if I stay here any longer I will die...

    I ran back outside, nearly blown off my feet, desperate to make it back to the hostel and it's fire. I some how reached the door and stumbles back through, but every item of clothing was soaked through. I was forced to sleep naked while my clothes dried next to the fire, but at least I would live.

    We never reached the top. The next morning the mountain was evacuated, and we were led down a half flooded very steep path. I called work.
    "I won't be in again today..."

    I once took part in a mid-winter ocean swim in New Zealand, because we do weird shit over there… As soon as my feet hit that water I knew I was in for some pain but I kept on running in anyway. Goddamn it was cold. So cold my nipples could cut glass. So cold my goosebumps had goosebumps. So cold the my junk shrunk to an embarrassing size and then literally inverted and got sucked inside my body… well not literally but it sure felt that way!
    Needless to say I only ever did the swim that one year.

    Once I went on a holiday in New Zealand at Mount Ruapehu, and active volcano. So it was the coldest I had ever been while also seeing some boiling lava.

    Okay, the lava wasn't there, but it WAS spewing out volcanic gas the time I was there. So that was pretty cool.

    Can I have my $1000 now Kotaku?

    I once bit right into a Calippo without using the packaging as a barrier, and now I can wear shorts in winter because I know I'll never experience that level of coldness ever again.

    When i was at school I used to play grass Hockey, in the Barossa. One field we played at, our home ground, was in a little town you can spit across called Moculta.

    Now, by most standards, this isn't a cold place. It's not a snowy area, it's not in the mountains. it does, however, get a killer morning chill in spots, and many were the times we'd arrive at the hockey field for a 9am or even 10am game and it would be frosted over white.

    We'd pile out of our warm car and unpack our gear, and dressed in our shorts, we'd do a warm up run spurred on by our coach. This didn't really help- we'd get cold and the moisture of the frost would start to seep in to our shoes, but hey, we were sportsmen, and we were tough.

    One day, the forecast was poor, but the game must go on. We began our game on the field, freezing at probably about 2 degrees. Then it started a light rain.

    Hockey in the rain becomes a different animal. The ball slows right down, and as the field becomes sodden it muddies up and you become a dirt-flecked animal. Adding into this, the cold that you'd previously kept at bay now seeps into everything. Your fingers become numb, grasping your hockey stick, and you become sloppy and stop functioning.

    This day, we started with rain. Then it started hailing for a short time, which paused play. The umpires waited a couple minutes for it to stop, then recommenced over the protests of some of the players, but there was a full day of games planned so us junior players couldn't hold the day up. By now, fingers are stiff, and the chill has reached your bones, and the stop of play means you're no longer quite warmed up as you should be.

    The second half of the game starts. You're fighting. We're a goal down, and the opposing team has a penalty corner against you. I line up as a defender, hoping that we can at least stem the loss. I run out to defend, just as the opposing team lifts the ball towards the goals.

    I take the ball square on the chest. My chest, numb, and wet. It slaps like a gorilla. At first it feels almost like a burn, as all of your sluggish nerves suddenly fire, and then you feel the warm sensation of pain spread throughout your chest. For a brief moment, I understand why those Norwegian folk whack each other with birch twigs in the snow.

    And then the umpire blows his whistle. I've stopped a goal, but now my chest is on fire, the rain has restarted. I'm cold, I'm in pain, my feet hurt. My coach looks at me, sees the thousand yard stare in my eyes, and subs me off, giving me a towel and a blanket on my way off the field.

    We lost the game.

    While I've been to Niseko in Sapporo, Japan during the winter, the coldest I've ever been in my entire life, was when I was also in Japan... Disney Sea in Tokyo.

    I come from the Northern Territory. Where I live, it's either hot and humid, or cool and dry. We don't have a winter. Hell, we have two seasons. The wet season, and the dry season. Before my trip to Japan, I had never seen snow, and I have only experienced a few winters, such as Melbourne and Brisbane, Australia.

    In December 2014, I went to Japan with my friends. Over three weeks, we started from the south, travelling from Osaka, to Naara, Kyoto, Tokyo and finally, up north to Niseko. You’d expect the snowy mountains of Niseko to be cold, and yes it was, but it was nothing when compared to this one particular day in Disney Sea, Tokyo.

    During our third or fourth day, it rained, an absolute massive storm. I was wearing so much clothing… a duck feather, water resistant vest from Kathmandu, a jumper underneath, long sleeved shirt, thermals, beanie, gloves, heavy jeans, bottom thermals, winter socks and my shoes. Due to the rain, I bought one of those Disney transparent rain ponchos, but its size was lacking. I’m 6’3, so I’m not a short person, and the poncho only reached just above my knees.

    The fierce rain was so Goddamn cold. My knees, shins and shoes were absolutely drenched, each droplet of rain felt like sharp, narrow objects attempting to pierce my flesh. Every rain drop, and there was a lot of said rain drops, hurt. I’ve never been so cold to the point of feeling physical pain.

    It got so bad, that we had to vacate to our hotel rooms at about 3 PM. To give comparison, we would normally finish our days at Disney by about 9 or even 10 PM. We were warned that despite being so cold, that we were not allowed to immediately jump in a hot shower. Instead, we had to remove our wet clothes, put on something else that was warm, turn on the room heaters and essentially huddle ourselves within our hotel blankets for at least half an hour, before we could have our long desired hot showers.

    Since we were in a Disney theme park, we heard Elsa from Frozen often singing “Let it go” and “The cold never bothered me, anyway.” Well fuck you, Elsa. The cold froze my bloody knee caps.

    I was living in Toowoomba, doing my OJT out at Oakey QLD in 2011. My wife was unemployed at the time and our daughter was still only little. For this reason we inly had one car and i had my bike.

    It was a beautiful thing, a 2005 Yamaha R1 in yellow, white and black 50th Anniversary colours. The reason this is relevant is coming.

    One morning, early in August, I was on my way to work. There is a 100km/h highway between Toowoomba and Oakey. At first I didn't really feel it too much, but before long the aggressive design of the fairings and windscreen (no handlebar grip covers or heated grips or anything like that) meant that the cold started to set in. I hit a cold pocket about halfway there and i was horrified to see the temperature on my dash. On that bike the temperature sensor was mounted inside the airbox so it was generally clear of the faster-moving air. Therefore (and also due to being mounted next to the engine) it would always read about 2-4°C higher than ambient. It was reading about -3°C.

    It was the first time I experienced the burning sensation of pouring cold water over frozen hands.

    I Grew up in Sydney, save for year 12, which I spent as an exchange student in rural Indiana. I arrived at the end of their summer and for the first time I got to watch a real change of seasons. Wooded farm land turning from green to yellow then an infinite variety of reds in the steadily cooling air, I was entranced....then the snow fell, ( I had not seen snow before), OMFG so much snow! The house I was living in was 200 years old, 8 miles from a sealed road another 12 from any town worthy of the title...we relied on bore water and that become an issue when the first blizzard hit. Early one morning the water pump froze, like solid, and it was in a well pitt that had flood before the temperature dropped. The pump was entombed in ice 4 feet thick and the wind was picking up, my host farther said we had to get it going...no telling how long the storm would last, we were just south of lake Michigan and the effect a body of water like that has on northern storms is unpredictable, they can last for many days. So out into the wind we went, all I had was jeans and a old Carhartt farmers jacket made for a big mid western foundry worker, not a skinny 17 year old from Sydney. Two and a half goddamn hours it took, working in 10 minute stints, it was just that cold, the temperature gauge on the side of the garage read -25 Fahrenheit but who knows what the wind did to that. By the time we were done I had lost all feeling in my face hands and feet and my jeans were so slicked with ice from the driving rain I could stand them up when I took them off. After 2 days and 2 nights the wind dropped off and the clouds broke, there was so much ice on the ground the neighbor kids could ice skate on parts of the unsealed road...

    If I had just listened to his stories of horror, I would have known that they would come looking, they can sense it, they're hungry for it.

    It's dark in here and much cooler than you'd expect. I can see some light coming from a gap between the floor and the wall, it's enough to illuminate my feet. I need to see what's through there, but they've bound me tightly. My hands are tied to the wall above my head and my feet together by chains attached to a hook on the concrete floor. The concrete looks old and frail, the hook might give with enough force. I start flicking my legs back and forth, I can see the hook slightly move. This is it, this is my only chance.
    Shit someone is coming, they are just outside, I can hear one of them talking and the other only mumbles. "We must not damage the package, this must be taken with ease.", there's a mumbled response. "It'll be slow and he will feel a lot of pain but it's the most delicate way we can do it.", the mumbling man is a little clearer the second time. "Begin".

    Panicking I started to kick the chains some more and again the hook moved. What the hell is that? A deep hum in the other room, it sounds like a generator. The air is beginning to get colder, much colder. The light from the other room is beginning to flicker like when the moon reflects off a lake. What is happening?

    Suddenly my feet ache, it feels like someone is slowly pushing needles into them. I look down and see water covering my feet, it is rising slowly. Shit shit shit. My feet are starting to cramp, the water is so cold it's constant pain. I need to get this hook out before the water gets too high. I use all my strength, thrusting my legs back and forth. Each time the hook losens giving me more distance to flick my legs. The water is starting to rise faster, luckily my legs are free. Now my hands.

    My breaths begin to get shorter and shallow, my chest getting tight and my legs almost unable to move. I must keep going. I spin myself around so that my front is pressed against the wall, I bring each leg up and push myself off. The wire they used for my hands cuts deep into my wrists, I can't ignore the pain but I must escape. I push off again. Nothing.

    Now the water is at my chest, my body is starting to give up. My joints slowly weaken. The pain is unbearable. A bed of needles, a blanket of knives, each touch of the water hurts and I want it to end. Now my legs have stopped moving and my heart is reaching its final beat. I know I can't die, but what are they going to do with me.

    Last edited 27/03/17 12:37 pm

    There is a problem with childhood. With so little life lived, the norms of existence are the sum of few years undiluted by different times. A mere snapshot for the grown, a whole life lived to the 7 year old. The dark and brooding presence, the ultimate masculine authority - so large and ever present since birth – forever there, an object of lurking violence and instinctual fear. All you've ever known.

    Little boys, are born with a certain kind of gentle sensitivity – from birth blessed and cursed with wide eyes, feeling everything. Tension in the house, hidden tears of a mother, the careless aggression made furious by “the drink.” Rage and terror resultant from a life of banality and a family unwanted. A son unwanted.

    At 7 I had already turned serious. Guarded. That inborn sensitivity forced to cold, feeling nothing – seemingly only able to manifest confused distress with wet pants. Long hours wasted behind the sports shed hoping they would dry before someone noticed, and humiliation follow.

    Then one day, a trip to the old country. New relatives and a day in the snow. Such cold! Small, withdrawn and unobservant I fell. A deep ditch of water, sludge, ice and straight to the bottom.

    And I could feel again. Not the empty cold of guarded detachment. No. The thrashing gasping, that wild instinctual panic, while my very consciousness froze. Breath stolen the most final sort of way.

    My father took me then. He put his arms around me. He raced me to the fire. He put his warm gloves on my frozen feet. He rubbed the life back into my limbs. Contrast so enhances feeling. Never did I feel so warm, safe... of value.

    I have never felt that kind of cold before, or since. I never felt that warmth from him, before or since.

    The icy wind rushed through the mouth of the cave with a piercing howl, chilling me to my very bones. Jagged cones of hanging rock cut a black silhouette against the stark white moonlight, taking on the appearance of long dreadful fangs, and - along with the constant moan - made me feel as if I were sitting in the throat of some great beast. In this moment I wish it were true, and that the cavernous demon would swallow me whole into its warm belly.

    For it was surely a better fate than what awaits me outside.

    Four days ago we had set out from Quebec to track and kill a white bear. The beast had supposedly fallen upon a small fur trading camp, brutally slaying the three men as they slept. The Governor had posted a great reward for the head of the bear, as one of the slain men was apparently his nephew, and he had it in his mind that revenge against the beast would bring him some measure of peace. I had it in my mind that 4000 gold pieces would be more than enough to get me out of this frost-bitten backwater.

    We were three days out on the tundra when the blizzard hit us. Grey clouds dark as ash had been trailing us since we left the mountain range, and how I wish they had broken on us earlier - maybe we would have turned back and cast off this fool’s errand. We made camp in a sheltered ditch to wait out the blinding storm. That’s when the beast fell upon us.

    No one saw it coming as it burst out of the white and felled Ranald with a single dreadful swipe, opening his throat all over the snow. MacDougall fired both his barrels into the terrible white beast, but it didn’t seem daunted in the least. It charged the Scotsman down and dragged him, screaming, back into the blizzard. In all the horror, the horses bolted and the dogs fled into the blizzard with the supplies.

    All reason left me at the sight of the carnage and I fled into the endless white, not a clue which direction was home and which was certain doom. After an hour my boots were soaked through as I waded through the crunching frost. After two hours my legs were numb, but I pushed on, driven by sheer terror. Finally I found a cave, a black circle in the middle of the white storm, like some unholy moon. With no food, a single pistol and my bones turned to ice, I knew it would be my tomb.

    Now here I sit, my fingers frozen useless with blackened bite, with not even the strength to turn the pistol on myself. I can only hope the freezing breath of Beelzebub himself takes me before the beast does.

    It’s so cold. Maybe if I just rest for a little…

    Laying in the same bed as the missus after a huge argument....i could run a marathon in the arctic in my underwear and it wouldn't compare...

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