The back of my calf.

I didn’t come out of it too bad, and I’ve counted least 20 welts on me. That was helped by the fact that I had the best frakking gun money could hire, which gave me an extra 10 metres of range over most of the other players. I mitigated this by volunteering to wear the bright orange flouro vest which designated me as a general. Turns out the generals could only be killed with a direct hit below the knees. Once my team (aka my guards) all died, I did a runner for the opposite end of the field — figuring (a) a moving target is harder to hit, and (b) it’s even harder still to hit a moving target below the knees. I almost made it, too…

My other thigh.

One of my mates brought a video camera with a snake-like telescopic aperture, which he duct-taped to his helmet, giving us a good helmet-cam video. I’m looking forward to seeing the footage.

By the end of the day, I’d been hit so many times that I no longer cared that much. So when the free-for-all happened at the end, I simply walked out like the Terminator and started picking people off. Got a few good head shots, and since my gun (modelled after the Heckler & Koch MP5) could fire off 8 rounds per second, I rarely hit anyone just once. Photos will follow, and video will come once I get a copy of the video.

side view

Arm and shoulder

Bicep