Tanks to the left of you, choppers to the right and you're stuck in the middle with a 50 caliber. But those clowns must be joking if they think they're going to topple your tower. After all you might not be the best shot, you might not have the biggest weapons, and you might be the only one to stand against their armies: but you got heart and a rocket launcher. While the huddled masses of stick men scurry and swarm the base of your tower, you stand high above them content in the knowledge that the cause they fight for is irrelevant, their will is weak, they live for the horde and will die in vain. You stand alone inside a concrete tower that you can grind your way up into a turbocharged artillery battery with laser sights, rocket launchers, fully automatic weapons and sharp, sharp teeth. Stand tall against wave after wave of insufferable stick minions. Let fate guide your reticule and your ammo will always find its target. There is nothing more noble than living, fighting, and dying alone for something you believe in. These jerks may take your stick life but they'll never take your stick freedom.