The Incident at Suicide Ridge Fanfic in the Tankiverse by Hippin_in_Hawaii “You have to understand,” said Fred, “that people have us wrong. They assume we’re just crazy tankers who love to try crazy things.” He paused for a swallow of beer. “Ok, actually, they have that part right.” He had to wait for a wave of chuckles to run through the bar before continuing. “They assume that we just do these things on impulse, make it up on the spur of the moment. While that may have been true in one or two notable occasions, we usually plan our crazy in advance. We spend our off hours in the archives, pouring over the maps of the practice arenas, reading through field reports of previous maneuvers. We do math and run computer simulations. We obsess over this.” Al and Liza nodded as Fred took another generous swallow. “We knew that our first live fire maneuver was coming up, and we knew from the archives it was likely to be on one of three training fields. So we researched them all, and had come up with a list of twenty-something…” “Twenty-seven,” interrupted Al. “Twenty-seven maneuvers, combined, for those three locations. The Suicide Ridge Ascension was one of those that we had planned for, but honestly, we considered too risky.” “I don’t know Suicide Ridge,” interjected what’s-his-name. “Out on training range charlie,” said Patterson. “You know that one ridge that kind of divides the field in half? That’s Suicide Ridge.” “Why?” asked what’s-his-name. “I think it looks like a great place to snipe from.” “It is a great place to snipe from,” explained Patterson. “But the approach is curved and narrow, then the top isn’t all that wide. You would have to maneuver fairly slowly to get into position, and the whole time you were creeping along up there, you’d be exposed to fire from the entire map. Even if you somehow made it there unnoticed, once you hit your first target, everyone on the opposing team would see you and return fire.” “Right,” said Al. “But if you could pop into position without anybody noticing, you could certainly score one, and probably two kills before getting pegged. It could be a useful end-game maneuver if your team were behind.” Fred nodded. “So, we looked at that possibility. The sides of the ridge are nearly vertical, but they flare out at the bottom. A light tank moving at full speed, with turbo engaged, could run straight up the side.” “And fall straight back down!” exclaimed what’s-his-name. Liza nodded. “Unless the recoil from a well-timed, carefully-aimed cannon shot knocked the tank forward. Then it would land on top of the ridge.” “But the treads would still be in full forward, so stopping before flying off the opposite side would be a definite concern” finished Al. “So, we looked at it, ran the math on it, and decided that it was possible, but very risky. Certainly, there was no reason to try it in a training maneuver. I mean, can you imagine if we missed, and came falling back down? We’d cripple our tank and likely kill ourselves in the bargain. No, we tucked that away in what we call the red folder. Ideas that, while they have a distinct possibility, are too risky to test.” Patterson looked shrewdly across the table. “Just how many ideas are in that red folder? I’d love to see what you three considered too risky!” Al, Fred, and Liza sat in silence, sipping on their beers. “Fine,” grumbled Patterson. “Keep your secrets. Go on with the story.” Fred shrugged. “You all know what happened. We’ve just never gotten to share that lead-up before. I wanted to set the record straight.” After a moment of stunned silence, what’s-his-name blurted out “What? That’s it? You’re the worst storyteller ever!” Fred just shrugged. “Fine,” said Patterson, “I’ll tell it. We rolled into the maneuver area, and right off the bat, a blue tank starts climbing Suicide Ridge. And it was a monster, a super-heavy sporting the biggest damned cannon I’ve ever seen. I remember…” he broke off, shook his head, then continued in a subdued voice “I remember we were actually laughing about it on the comms.” He paused, shook his head, unshed tears glistening in his eyes. The bar was unnaturally silent, waiting with hushed expectation for him to resume. Patterson collected himself, took a deep drink, and continued. “We all got to our starting positions, and as soon as the referees called weapons free, half a dozen of us blasted that thing. It was actually kind of beautiful, perched up there on the ridge, dripping with red paint! And we went on with the battle, happy to know we’d scored such an early victory over the blues.” Patterson paused again. There were some supportive rumbles from the crowd, now gathered tightly around the table. “When it fired the first time, our only thought was that the blues were cheating. We weren’t on the blue comm, so we didn’t hear what they were saying. When it fired the second time, Golf Echo Nine exploded. Even then, I think, we weren’t really aware. We thought maybe it had been some terrible malfunction in the tank itself. Then that thing fired again, and Golf Echo One was gone.” “Jesus,” breathed what’s-his-name. “The blues were using live rounds?” “No, not the blues,” snapped Patterson. “Weren’t you listening? The first shot took out a blue. Somehow seditionists had infiltrated a blue tank and gotten live ammo. Anyway, the referees came on the general channel, calling for us to evacuate the area. Problem is, those training courses are contained, only a couple of entrances or exits. As all the tanks from both sides started to converge, we were only making ourselves better targets. The fourth shot took out two blues at once. The fifth disabled several units.” Patterson raised his head to look at Fred, Al, and Liza. “Then these crazy sons-of-****es saved us all. They made their tank fly and they rammed those ****ers. Rammed them so hard that they were knocked off the far side of the ridge. The mammoth fell, and Golf Echo Two followed them down, landing on top of them. Crushed their tank and killed those ****ers.” What’s-his-name looked at them in awe. “Jesus Mary mother of God… how are you alive?” Fred shrugged. “Al cracked a dozen bones plus his skull and was in a coma for over a week.” “Nine days,” inserted Al. “Liza had compound fractures in both arms and one leg, plus a dislocated shoulder. I cracked almost every rib and had epic whiplash. Being alive was something of a surprise to us all, I think.” Al and Liza nodded. “But it worked,” chirped Al. “I knew we could do it!” “Damned straight!” roared Patterson. He lifted his mug. “To the only recruits ever to earn silver clusters for conspicuous valor. Golf Echo Two!” “GOLF ECHO TWO!!!” Al stood immediately, and raised his hands for silence. “To those we didn’t save. To Curtis and Kaylin and Jaycee. To Lilly, Peyton, and Red Allan. To Gunnar and Brian S. and Brian G. To Stumpy Joe, Darrell, and Shirley. To Tex, Saul, and Kaylin.” Fred stood up beside him. “To comrades fallen!” “TO COMRADES FALLEN!!”

Thanks! Or, as we say locally, Mahalo!

Well, you understand what it is, so you aren't very confused!

Well written, heart-wrenching to read. I sometimes worry about becoming that guy.

Beer O’Clock Fanfic in the Tankiverse by Hippin_in_Hawaii “They seriously fell into the drainage ditch?” guffawed what’s-his-name, sloshing beer over himself and his neighbors. Patterson gestured across the table to where Liza, Al, and Fred were sitting. “Ask them yourself. God’s honest truth!” What’s-his-name looked over; Fred shrugged and nodded. What’s-his-name was having a hard time forming sentences around his deep belly laughs. “So you got your tank stuck on two training maneuvers in a row?” “Nope,” chirped Al, holding up three fingers. “Three.” “Three??” What’s-his-name was helpless with laughter, as was everyone in earshot. It was, Fred reflected, actually a fairly pleasant sound. It was just a shame that he and his crew were at the receiving end. “You… you… you’ve gotten your tank stuck three times?” gasped out what’s-his-name. “Oh, no,” said Al, wide-eyed and serious. “Three consecutive times. Eight in total.” “Ei…. ei… ei…” Poor what’s-his-name couldn’t get enough air to form the word. He gave up trying and wrapped his arm around Patterson, the two of them literally laughing tears onto each other’s shoulders. The entire bar was laughing now as the story spread to the back. Fred chuckled and concentrated on enjoying his beer, waiting for a pause in the uproar. “What can I say,” he said when the lull finally came. “I like putting my tank where no one expects it!” This, of course, opened the floodgates to a fresh tsunami of cachinnation, not to mention a few crude barbs that got lost in the noise. Fred, Liza, and Al toasted each other and relaxed, letting the laughter roll over them. It was hardly the first time, but it was all new to what’s-his-name, so the chestnuts had to be brought out and re-lived. “Oh, God…” gasped what’s-his-name. “You three must be the worst tankers ever!” The laughter dropped abruptly in volume, but what’s-his-name, too drunk and caught up in his own cleverness, failed to notice. “Why your commander hasn’t ****-canned you three, I cannot for the life of me imagine!” The bar was quiet now, and not a friendly quiet. This was definitely a hostile quiet. And still, what’s-his-name was missing it. “God help me if I ever have to go into battle with the likes of you!” Patterson’s hand landed heavily on what’s-his-name’s shoulder. “You’ll want to be shutting up now,” he said, quietly, menacingly. What’s-his-name paused, looked around the room, and had the unexpected good sense to keep his mouth shut. He took a deep swallow of his beer, thinking hard. “Look, I’ve said something I oughtn’t, and I really didn’t mean anything by it. We were all having a good laugh at these guys’ expense, and if I went too far, I’m deeply sorry. I’d never mean to… what’s the word… diminish! I’d never mean to diminish another tanker’s good standing with my loud mouth. Please, let me buy the next round.” As drunken apologies went, thought Fred, that one was pretty articulate and on-point. Could be that what’s-his-name might turn out to be a worthwhile human being. Fred could feel the tension in the room watching him, a palpable force waiting to take his lead. He smiled and leaned forward. ”No harm done.” He emptied his glass and set it on the table before him. Liza and Al followed suit. “We’d love another beer!” Some of the anger ran out of the room and disappeared into the night as what’s-his-name got up and stumbled towards the bar. Conversations began to spring up here and there. Patterson shook his head. “Liza, Al, Fred, I am so sorry. He and I go way back, but he can be a complete dumbass.” Al just laughed. “Look, he’s drunk, and all he’s heard so far are the funny stories. He doesn’t know anything more.” “He’s pretty good with his drunken apologies,” comment Liza. “Well, he’s had enough practice,” grumbled Patterson. The table sat in relative silence until what’s-his-name staggered back with a beer in each hand and a waitress in tow. She had a platter covered in mugs and began setting them around the table. Soon everyone had a beer in hand. Fred raised his glass towards what’s-his-name and took a long drink. “Thanks,” he said. What’s-his-name was opening his mouth when Patterson turned to him and cut him off. ”These three saved my life.” What’s-his-name blinked, looked at Patterson, then at the crew of Golf Echo Two, then back at Patterson. “Hell, could be they saved the lives of everyone here,” continued Patterson. There was a general rumble of agreement and approval. From the back of the bar came a disembodied voice, “Golf Echo Two!” “GOLF ECHO TWO!!” resounded throughout the bar. Everyone (that is, except for what’s-his-name) stood and lifted their glasses to the three friends. This had an effect that a barfull of ridicule hadn’t; Fred, Al, and Liza were each too embarrassed to even look up. After a moment, Liza elbowed Fred. Fred stood, held his glass high, and made a slow turn, meeting as many eyes as he could manage. He lifted the beer to his mouth and drained it in four large swallows. “Tank Corps!” He bellowed. “FIRST IN LINE! LAST TO DIE! TANK CORPS! TANK CORPS! ROLLING DEATH!” A brief pause followed while beers were chugged and seats were taken. What’s-his-name finally got around to closing his mouth. “Holy ****!” he breathed. “Holy ****! I’ve never seen anything like that. Holy ****! Who the **** are you guys?” Patterson leaned over to his friend. “Buddy,” he said in a theatrical whisper, “you are drinking with the heroes of Suicide Ridge.”

On that note... I wrote my first two stories in Word, then copy-and-pasted them over, and all was fine. After that, I switched to Google Docs so I could work on them whenever the mood struck. But since I migrated, now when I copy-and-paste the text, it comes in as black on black. I tried setting the forum option to "paste as plain text," but it pastes it as black plain text. So, I select all and change the color. Which color is "normal"?

Thanks! I actually have the next installment written (pending final edit, of course), and the outlines for two more brewing. I'd forgotten how much fun writing could be!

Chutzpah Fanfic in the Tankiverse by Hippin_in_Hawaii[/size] The three of them gathered tightly around the display.[/size] “Let’s run it again,” said Al.[/size] “Right,” said Fred. “We skirt the perimeter of the engagement area and come up through this gully, then we wait for the signal. Once we get it, we punch the throttle, turbo boost, and pop out here, just behind their rally point. With any luck, they’ll all be facing the line of engagement to the east. We hit the first sentry broadside, then Liza begins to traverse left while you steer this way. When we get just here,” he stabbed the screen with his finger, ”you cut left 45 degrees. That ought to line us up with a shot on the second guard. Then you make for this alley while Liza continues to traverse to the rear. If that third tank is really on his game and starts to pursue, she can hit him then. If not, we turn left at the first intersection, where I’ll drop a mine. If we disable him there, it will force any of his teammates to backtrack and circle around, giving us plenty of time to make it back to our lines. In the meantime, the rest of our squad should be moving in on their rally point for the capture.”[/size] “That’s really going to be lucky, to make either of those shots,” warned Liza. “We’ll be bouncing like crazy after the jump out of that gully, so there’s no promise I’ll hit the first one. Mixing a traverse with a turn and landing that second shot is crazy hard. You have to realize there’s a decent chance we’ll be running for cover with all three of them on our tails, right?”[/size] “If they stick to their pattern, they’ll have two heavies and a medium there, nothing nearly as quick or maneuverable as us. Even if we don’t disable anyone, we should still be able to evade and outrun.”[/size] “I can keep us pretty safe at first while we’re in those buildings, but we have to come out sometime” said Al. “It’s only a few hundred meters square. They’re going to find us sooner rather than later.”[/size] “If we are really in trouble, we’ll dodge past this retaining wall, slalom left, and tuck in between the wall and the drainage ditch. We’ll actually stop there, and since the gun will still be pointed rearwards, we’ll have a dead shot on whoever is leading the pursuit. That will bottleneck the whole quadrant of the map. We’ll be safe and they’ll be all clustered up when our forces attack from behind.”[/size] “We won’t fit.”[/size] “Al, I’m telling you, we’ll fit! The map says so! Lookit!”[/size] Al took a bite of his banana. “So we’re trusting the map today, are we?”[/size] Fred sighed, exasperated. “Look, it’s not like we’re violating a no-go zone. Why wouldn’t the map be accurate? And, regardless, this is just the contingency plan, Custer’s last stand as it were. The only reason we would need this would be if we were to fail to disable any of the sentries and our intelligence was wrong about the enemy forces.”[/size] That’s how the conversation had played out last night. [/size] When Golf Echo Two had popped out of the gully, there hadn’t been two heavies and a medium waiting. There had been five lights. Only two were facing east; the other three were each covering another cardinal point. Including one whose bore they were looking straight down.[/size] Liza panicked and rushed her first shot. Between the smaller-than-expected target and the about-as-bad-as-expected bouncing from the jump out of the gully, she shot low, splashing crimson paint in an elongated furrow in front of the enemy tank. [/size] Her second shot, as the turret was traversing left and Al was turning in the same direction, went straight between the two east-facing sentries.[/size] Al zipped between the sentries, darting for the narrow alley between the two nearest buildings. Liza squeezed off a third shot at nothing in particular. Reaching the first intersection, Al banked hard to the left, throwing Fred against his restraint harness and interrupting his timing so that the mine dropped far to one side of the alley, unlikely to damage anyone coming from behind.[/size] “Al! We’re snafu’d! Make for the retaining wall! Custer’s last stand!”[/size] “We won’t fit,” drawled Al.[/size] “Just do it!”[/size] The cannon spoke again as Liza tried to hit… what? “Liza! What are you shooting at?” Fred yelled.[/size] “**** all if I know, but if someone is behind us, they’ll think twice!” she yelled back.[/size] “Load and hold it!” shouted Fred. “We’re going to ambush them!”[/size] “Al says we won’t fit!”[/size] “We’ll ****ing fit, ok? Just do it!”[/size] Fred kept his eyes on his map display. They were nearly there. This would work. This had to work.[/size] “Coming up, Al!”[/size] “Hold on!” Al cried as he locked the left tread. The tank slued hard to the left, lurched forward as Al straightened the steering, then jerked to a stop as he engaged the brakes.[/size] “Ha!” shouted Fred. “I told you it would work! Liza, stand by, they should be right behind us!”[/size] Two seconds passed, maybe three, before everyone felt the tank lurch slightly to the right.[/size] “No, no, no, it isn’t fair…”whimpered Fred before they fell with a sickening lurch into the drainage ditch beside them. [/size] The impact wasn’t terrible; they had slid as much as fallen, and the ditch wasn’t much deeper than the tank was wide. But they were wedged in, right side resting on the ground, left treads pointed to the sky. Fred and Al were held in their chairs by their safety harnesses; poor Liza was lying on top of one of the ammo lockers.[/size] Fred sat there, the straps digging into his flesh. “Everyone ok?”[/size] “Yep,” chirped Al, unflappable as ever.[/size] “Ow,” whined Liza. “That hurt. Next time you decide to flip us, a little warning, please?”[/size] Fred twisted, released his straps, and joined Liza on the wall of the turret. Al joined them a moment later. Fred looked at each of them in turn. “Who wants to say it?”[/size] Liza gestured at Al. “It’s clearly your honor, Al.”[/size] Al just shook his head. “Nah, no reason. Besides, I think watching the look on his face as he reports this is going to be sweet enough.”[/size] Fred sighed. There was no putting off the inevitable. He reached for the radio handset and toggled the mic.[/size] “Golf Echo Two calling Golf Echo. Golf Echo Two calling Golf Echo. We are officially ten-seventeen. Map coords…”[/size]

Not that I'm aware of. Anyway, while the idea of "idiots try stupid/heroic thing and fail" is a trope, I don't think I based this on anything specific.

I debated the whole "to profane or not to profane" thing for this story, and felt like it merited genuine profanity. I'm not above manufacturing profanity when the occasion demands it, but this time I took the stars.

Its, not it's. Good read! I like complex layers of self-recrimination.

Stuck Fanfic in the Tankiverse by Hippin_in_Hawaii “Golf Echo Two calling Golf Echo. Golf Echo Two calling Golf Echo. Over.” “Golf Echo Two, this is Golf Echo Actual. Go ahead. Over.” Fred traded looks of dread with Liza. He hadn’t expected the commander herself to answer. This was going to suck. “Roger, Golf Echo Actual. We are officially ten-seventeen. Map coords bravo bravo seven nine. Over.” There was a lengthy pause. Quite lengthy. Fred and Liza stood beside the tank, their feet buried in mud, avoiding looking at each other. The pause stretched on interminably. “Golf Echo Two, say again. Over.” Fred sighed before keying the mic again. “Golf Echo Actual, we are ten-seventeen at bravo bravo seven nine. Over.” The pause was even longer this time. “We are so going to be in a world of ****,” said Liza. Fred nodded miserably. Behind them, Albert stuck his head out of the driver’s hatch. “Help coming?” asked Albert. “Working on it,” answered Fred. “Golf Echo Two, believe your transmission garbled. Say again. Over.” This time, the voice held an undertone of barely-contained fury, while in the background, other voices could be heard laughing hysterically. “You heard us, Actual. Ten-seventeen. Brave bravo seven nine. Over.” Fred hung his head. “Do you think they’re recording this?” asked Liza. “Of course!” chirped Albert. “All communications during maneuvers are recorded. It’s standard procedure.” He paused, puzzled. “You should know that.” “Of course I know it! I was just lamenting the fact that soon, possibly within the hour, we’re going to be a viral video. Within a week, a million people will be laughing at us.” “Nah,” said Albert. “You’re being optimistic. A ****up like this, we’ll have a million hits in just a few days.” He ducked back into the tank to avoid the mudball that Liza flung at him. The radio crackled. “Golf Echo Two, let me be clear about your report. Are you actually telling me that you took your tank into the center of the clearly-designated no-go area, where you have gotten it stuck? Is that your report? Do I have the facts straight? Over.” Yep, she was pissed. Mighty pissed. “Affirmative, Actual.” Fred looked at Liza; Liza, at Fred. It had seemed like such a brilliant idea at the time. Take their tank behind simulated enemy lines using an unexpected route, engage the blue side from behind, creating a distraction that would allow their teammates to penetrate blue lines and capture their base. Usually the areas on the map marked “no-go” were only arbitrary limitations set for the maneuver; this time, though, the area had been a swamp. A place where, clearly, no one with half a brain would try to drive a tank. No one except a green crew of junior tankers hoping to make a favorable impression by pulling off a daring risk. From inside the tank, Albert yelled. “Holy ****! Did you guys feel that?” “Feel what?” yelled back Liza. Albert came scrambling out. “The whole tank just rocked! Did we get hit by something?” Fred looked around. “Hit by what? We’re the only idiots out here.” He looked at the tank for a moment… had it been leaning that much a moment ago? A bubbling sound began to softly escape from the mud beneath the tank’s right tread. As he watched, the tank leaned further in that direction, inches of the track disappearing beneath the surface. “Al, get out of there!” he yelled. Albert ducked back inside instead. “AL!” screamed both Fred and Liza. The tank was clearly sinking now, the right side heading down at an increasing rate. “AL!! Get out!!!” The driver’s hatch slammed shut. They heard Al scrambling inside. He emerged through the commander’s hatch, dogging it behind him. “I secured for amphibious operation,” he said. “She’ll be airtight until they pull her out.” They stood there, the three of them, watching helplessly as the quicksand slowly sucked their great war machine down into its silent depths. The deeper the right side went, the more the tank leaned, and the farther in that direction it slid. Al pulled his phone from his pocket and pointed it at the tank, documenting its slow descent. “You’re not supposed to carry that on maneuvers,” said Liza. Albert just shrugged and kept filming. “Golf Echo Two, this is Golf Echo. You are to remain at your present location until the retrieval unit arrives. You will assist in retrieval, then surrender the tank to a replacement crew. You will then return to base, on foot, for debriefing. Respond. Over.” The voice was not that of the commander; clearly, she had handed the matter over to a subordinate. “You want us to walk back? Over.” “Golf Echo Two, given Actual’s state of mind, you might appreciate any delay in arriving here. A long walk is the least of your problems. Maintain radio silence. Over.” The tank was halfway gone, and nearly on its side. The downward motion showed no signs of slowing. “Are you going to tell them about this?” asked Liza. “Nope,” sighed Fred. The three friends watched as the turret slowly disappeared beneath the bubbling mud. Only the left treads were visible, but they wouldn’t be for long. “We are well and truly ****ed, my friends,” commented Al, his phone still pointed at what could be seen of the tank. With nothing else to do, they sat down in the mud and watched as it slid slowly out of sight, bubbles floating to the surface of the quicksand long after the tank had disappeared beneath the surface. Fred pulled out a protein bar and began chewing. Yep, this was gonna suck.

Looks like I just got my reward. POOF! Half gone, financing the last step of MU for my protection module. New plan... finance my Tanki addiction by writing!

Gold Boxes Ok, n00b here. I've read what the Wiki says about gold boxes. I was in a battle recently where it rained gold boxes. Dozens and dozens of them. Over the course of two battles, I must have picked up 20 myself. But I don't seem to be 20,000 crystals richer; I seem to be 0 crystals richer. The chatter going on during the battle had some players talking about opening the boxes and keeping the contents. Now, with one exception, these gold boxes were all black. I think I did pick one up that was actually gold. What's the deal? Are there fake gold boxes that do nothing? Was the chatter about opening them and keeping what's inside just people being funny?

Congratulations to us all! Week 4 made for some fun reading! I literally laughed out loud at both The Princess Fried and the unnamed LOTR parody. Thanks again to those who made this happen. I look forward to next year's competition!

Daily Missions and Pro battles I apparently won a Pro pass of some sort, and spent a day as a Pro member. I entered a few Pro battles and noted some of the differences. But I was still trying to fulfill my daily missions. One was "collect double armor boxes." But no matter how many I collected in the Pro battle, the counter for that goal never incremented. Do the daily mission achievements not apply to Pro battles? Or is that some option that gets selected by whomever creates the specific Pro battle?

I'm new to the forum, so the people and personalities are new to me as well. I still giggled, imagining the scene as it played out, seeing familiar roles that my friends and I have. I feel like I learned as much about people here from that short story as I would in a year of active posting!

Just looking at the list, I also assumed that they were posted in order of placement. I'm glad to hear that Magenta's offering isn't in first place. No offense, but it didn't meet the criteria of the challenge. Regardless of how well-written or entertaining it was, ranking it above anyone who actually followed the rules would be unfair.

Thanks to the organizers! It was fun to dust off my creative chops, and somewhat assuaged my guilt at not participating in NaNoWriMo (again). I am looking forward to the results, and seeing what other contributed!

If you have micro-upgraded your turret/hull to +10, do you get any actual benefit from taking the free "upgrade" to the next level? For example, I have an Isida M0 at +10, and a Wasp M0 at +10. I kind of like the idea of someone thinking "Oh, that's only an M0, I'll just charge him" only to end up getting themselves killed by more firepower than they expected. Clearly, I need to take the free M1 upgrade before my rank gets high enough to make M2 available or I lose the free option. Also, clearly I need to go ahead and move up to M1 if I want to continue upgrading. But until one of those circumstances arises, is there any benefit to M1 over M0 +10?

Is there a performance difference between using the downloaded client versus playing through a web browser? Why should I prefer using one to the other?

Yeah, it makes sense. It's not like I had to overcome ANY adversity to pick those boxes up!

I have a mission to gather 5x armor boxes. I popped into a TDM match with only a few players and got two before the match ended. When it restarted, there were only two of us, both on the same side, and the other guy quit. I thought "Great! Easy mission!" I drove around the empty map picking up armor boxes, but my tally never increased. Is that by design, or was that a glitch?

I must be somehow clicking wrong. No matter how many times I visit that link, or reload it, it only shows the results for week 1.

I suspected that might be the case, but couldn't find it addressed anywhere. Thanks!