R/C Tank Combat

British Invasion

Battle Royale

Neil Rochford

The last battle of the weekend would be just for fun ... a battle royale. All for none and none for all. Each battler would be on their own (unless alliances were made) to fend for themselves inside a relatively small area around the village marked by cones. Typically, such battles start with tanks located anywhere they want in the ring. But on this day, a twist was added. Tanks would enter the ring at 15 second intervals, with the initial order of entry chosen at random. In other words, each tank had 15 seconds to find a safe place before the next tank entered. To add even more fun, two rocket launchers were placed in the ring, including Bazooka Joe (operated by a 9-year old) who was allowed to reposition himself just like any good infantry man would.

Carnage began almost as soon as the battle began. Instead of proceeding to the back of the ring to find safety, one of the first vehicles to enter, Will's SU-100 simply parked behind the closest tree and he waited for the next tank to enter. That caused the next tank to stop very close to the entry point, while the 15 second timer counted down. Needless to say, panic and paint started flowing and the battle was in furr-ball mode. A knife-fight in a phone booth would have looked more civilized.

Added enjoyment was had when any tank decided to "stand ground". In such situations, Bazooka Joe would start walking into a kill position near the stationary tank. The tank commander now how to decide whether to move his tank out of the preferred position or allow a deadly 9-year old to take aim. On a number of occasions, the tankers didn't even realize that Bazooka Joe had moved and they went back to home base for a quick wipe-down and re-incarnation.

As tanks became destroyed and left the ring, a single pair of tanks remained. They danced around each other, but neither could settle the matter. Naturally, only one thing could be done ... send in more tanks. So, Frank started sending re-incarnated tanks back into the ring at 15 second intervals. This had the desired effect of breaking up the last duo and re-introducing carnage for the spectators to watch. It should be noted, however, that John's PzII "officially" survived the longest of the first generation combatants. It's unclear who survived the longest during the "zombie" phase, but it is clear that everyone had fun, battlers and spectators alike.

Details from Neil:

The final battle of 2013 was a special one. Listening to my instructions I could hardly believe my ears, being told to enter a small ring of cones filled with tanks and artillery already with their guns trained on me. The best tankers on the planet descended on each other. Myself and Doug made a pact that seamed unshakable until his Tiger broke down, leaving me on my own with other people who had made pacts with other people.
Bazooka Joe had center stage and was very dangerous until his shot was fired, (presuming he missed and sometimes he didn't miss) you had a few seconds to escape his reach whilst he rapidly rearmed. Parts of the game were just a blur as multiple foes popped from behind barriers and trees. Paint was coming from all directions and just as a target was identified and ranged it disappeared back in to the safe position from whence it came. Re-arming was a frantic operation as the nice Dr. Sommer counted down the seconds of allowed time left in the pit stop. "No pressure Neil", I could hear him say, "5 seconds left Neil, dont drop the paint Neil!!".
Back in the game I could see the Cromwell looking like it could use some yellow paint down its side. I gained a few easy hits by taking long shots at a distance, it momentarily felt good. Like poking a bear behind metal bars with a stick, that feeling was soon shattered when the Cromwell came charging at me at great speed. Swinging to the side with its turret pointing at me at every degree of the turn (how does he do that?) I kept my nerve and faced the Cromwell continuously, if I could control the elevate I would have a kill. At my perfect opportunity as I could see the an ocean of white knight side the Co2 bottle made that "Peeeeeerrrruuuut" sound that we all know means no more gas for you buddy. I stood there whilst Steve fired (I think about 9) paintballs into the side of T001. I limped back to home base, defeated but a very happy tanker.