Tegra-Based Android Devices To Get Space MMO Vendetta Online

Incarnate-VO writes "Guild Software, makers of the multi-platform space MMO Vendetta Online, is apparently rolling a native Android port, intended for use on upcoming smartbooks and tablets powered by Nvidia's second-generation Tegra. More information on the port at the Android FAQ page on the Vendetta Online website."

Cell data

[Darkness404]

There are two major problems with this, one is the latency issue, according to their FAQ it is supposed to be playable on a modem but it still can't be good for an MMO to have terrible latency. And the second one is data plans on carriers, already AT&T has crapified their data plan to cap it at an artificially low number, could Verizon, T-mobile and Sprint be next? And with an artificial, needless, bandwidth cap, more and more people are not going to be wanting to use their cell network to be playing an MMO.

Re:Cell data

[longfalcon]

gives new meaning to "AFK kill"

Re:Cell data

[Anachragnome]

Conrad crashed through the woods with abandon, his pet bear thundering along behind him. He had even named the bear something highly noticeable--Lord British.
Running through the backwoods of Britannia was a hobby of Conrad's. Some assumed he was looking for dilapidated, old houses--an archaeologist of opportunistic bent. This was not so.

His very name an attempt at concealment amongst a crowd, Conrad strove to blend into his surroundings as much as one could in such a world. His dress was that of a commoner, removed from the corpse of an unfortunate Noble of Magincia. To be there, before your very eyes, yet gone forever in a blink. The bear was a ruse, as well.

Conrad would pass by a residence of the woods, perhaps a lonely lathe and plaster clad hut, or maybe an unguarded small tower, looking for his next meal. He would pass by these abodes in haste, never faltering in his steps. It was the residents that he looked keenly for--the indication of work to be done.

When Conrad spotted someone at home he would continue on his way a short time, stop behind a tree, out of sight--and kill Lord British.

After claiming the strips of bear meat that he would later use to tame another bear, Conrad stealthed. He slowly moved back towards the residence, careful not to move so quickly that his footfall might be heard. He crept up, slowly, watching for movement of the unwary soul inside the house, slowly, until he stood right next to the front door, cloaked in a shroud of secrecy and suspense.

One wrong move could change events for the worse in short order.

Conrad set himself ready for the wait. It could be a long time before his mark stepped into the snare. Uncertainty was the name of the game now. All was in the hands of his mark, now.

The bear was a nice touch, suggested by one of Conrad's fellow nefarians. People see you go by with a bear in tow, they don't expect you to be around without him anytime soon. Lord British existed only to give the appearance of passing by without stopping.

Conrad waited, the sounds of footfalls inside the house, the occasional snipping of shears on cloth--the home of a tailor apparently. The sounds of doors opening and closing, chests being slammed shut. Containers. Always a good sign at times like these.

It happened so fast, Conrad had not the time to be hesitant. Reaction became action.

The owner of the house opened the front door without warning, and without seeing Conrad hidden amongst the hedges, walked a short distance off into the woods and began slamming a hatchet into a nearby tree and piling up wood at the base. Conrad moved like a silk banner of war in the wind, silently slipping through the frame of the door...and was held in place--an unseen force held him still at the worst possible moment, right on the sill of the door he needed to be through quickly.

Worse, the hammering of the hatchet stopped abruptly. Conrad squirmed, the feeling of impending doom upon him. He was about to be caught.

The grip of ice eased slightly--he took a step. Then another. One more step and he was in. With less then a second to spare, the tailoring lumberjack stepped back into the house, gliding past Conrad, missing him by a single step. Conrad held still, not a breath left his lips.

What was that that held him so? Most vexing. Most vexing, indeed. It had almost been his undoing.

Conrad was born to wait. From the day of his birth, he waited. He now got comfortable in his small corner of the room that the hut's front door had opened onto. It was modestly decorated, obviously the home of a craftsman, the tools of his trade hung from the walls. Conrad watched him work. The crafter seemed to be preoccupied, sometimes just standing there for long stretches of time. Conrad waited.

Then it happened--the craftsman simply disappeared. He had gone to sleep for the evening, presumably, and had left Conrad to the darkness of the room. Conrad stepped from the darkness, took a single candle from his pack, set it on the table in the