General
The game seeks to faithfully recreate battles from the real Normandy invasion, including Omaha beach, Utah beach, Sword Beach, Colleville, Sainte-Mère-Église, Caen, Pegasus Bridge, and Vierville. The game caters to an average of 4000 players a year, often run on the anniversary of the events being recreated.
The game is played on a 740-acre (3.0 km2) area at the D-Day adventure park, with a range of differing terrains to suit different scenarios (including open fields, ravines and creek beds). Trench works, villages, firebases, headquarters, bunkers and gun emplacements provide strategic options for players. Play itself deviates from standard tournament paintball rules - in that when hit by paint, players move to a reinsertion zone and are back in the game within thirty minutes. Emphasis is on completing objectives rather than solely eliminating enemy players, and the game makes extensive usage of World War II era equipment and vehicles (including tanks and bazookas, among the standard paintball markers).
In game, players belong to either the Germans or the Allies. Allied forces include the French resistance, Americans, British, and Canadians. Each side has its own Battle Staff in corresponding "tactical operations centers" and divisions assigned to three different beachhead or other objectives. The Allies invade from off playing field locations, including actual wet insertions from landing craft.
Read more about this topic: Oklahoma D-Day
Famous quotes containing the word general:
“Could anything be more indicative of a slight but general insanity than the aspect of the crowd on the streets of Chicago?”
—Charles Horton Cooley (1864–1929)
“At Hayes’ General Store, west of the cemetery, hangs an old army rifle, used by a discouraged Civil War veteran to end his earthly troubles. The grocer took the rifle as payment ‘on account.’”
—Administration for the State of Con, U.S. public relief program (1935-1943)
“There is a mortifying experience in particular, which does not fail to wreak itself also in the general history; I mean “the foolish face of praise,” the forced smile which we put on in company where we do not feel at ease, in answer to conversation which does not interest us. The muscles, not spontaneously moved but moved, by a low usurping wilfulness, grow tight about the outline of the face, with the most disagreeable sensation.”
—Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803–1882)