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The Snug
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A Potted History of The Burchell Arms Regulars
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A Range of Fine Ales, Bottled Beers, Quiz NIght, Bar Games, Home Cooked Food
A long time ago in a...
Some time ago in Rolt Heights some people decided to band together to protect their beautiful, beautiful pub; a nirvana-esque world of baccarat, dominoes, darts, snooker and pool, fine ales, friendly banter, the occasional bar meal, the even more occasional footy team...
The bloody marauding walking dead who’d decided to come back to life and try and break the mullioned windows and infiltrate the pub garden; well, they were bad enough; the villains who only sought to loot, kill, murder, pillage and bore the living pants off the denizens of the aforementioned pub-valhalla were worse as they could actually choose to not be annoying asshats of the worst stripe.
Anyway, all this being said, there once was a fabled lad named Jim Phil; he took the hopeless chaps and lasses who would tremulously approach the bar of the Burchell Arms with their coins jingling and ask for their required half of mild, pint of vodka, quart of cold, sharp lager and he moulded them into one of the most revered groups in all of Malton.
Their pub-Football team was still shite though.
Time tells us that after no little effort, sleepless nights and a couple of hefty prescriptions trying to nail jam to the wall/ herd cats/ prompt drunkards into some semblance of order that Jim Phil cried himself to sleep one night and handed over control of the Burchell Arms Regulars (for it was them) to Tommy Monahanand Clint Harbringer, And they, in turn, handed over control to more Tommies; well, in actuality just one. But that was enough. Next thing you know a lad called Leotook over in some sort of tax scam; then Mr. Gomez, then Jesus Santeand Tyxand Father O'Keefe...
Christ, that was difficult for all concerned. BAR members left and right were forced to abandon their trousers and give tithes of communion wine, cheap cider and Mad Dog 20/20 to the management team; luckily Ty vanished one night and Father O’K had to take a step back to help heal his screaming liver and Sante was joined by the immensely handsome Rockefella Plaza and the violent mentalist, Dinger (aka Danger Lightfoot). The rest, as they say, is biology.
In the words of Jim Phil (Founder of the BAR):
"The Burchell Arms Regulars are a group of survivors who operate out of the Burchell Arms (imagine that) in Rolt Heights. We're dedicated to the maintenance of the pub and to providing our members with medical services and revivification. Oh, and we're not above retaliation against those who compromise the safety and security of the Burchell Arms, either. Beyond that - we're just regular guys trying to keep the power on and the beer cold.
If you're new to Malton and need a group to watch your back -
If you're a maxed-out veteran looking for a new safehouse -
If you're just passing through Rolt Heights and want to relax -
- the BAR is always open."
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The Pub and Life in Rolt Heights and Pescodside
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 Come to "Sunny" Rolt Heights. We’ve "Culture", "Sport", "History" and "Great Things" To "See And Do"!
The Burchell Arms Regulars love to have fun, fun, fun. We’re a disparate group of heroes, heroines, purveyors of derring-do, paragons of virtue, we sport stylish leisure wear and have a long and enviable history of amiable friendliness. We even allow tee-totallers into our merry band. One thing we’re really keen on is that new Regulars come and enjoy their time with us; we take that very seriously...
In order to promote our pursuit of happiness, we are all very 2009 and have a Twitter presence @BurchellBarkeep and also a Facebook Page AND we have an easily accessible forum which we use for discussion, tactics (other varieties of breath-mints), general messing around and a burgeoning online community. We’d really like you to come and visit and forge your way in this new and terrifying online world. Or talk shite. Either or, it’s no biggy.
We’re also keen to protect our home, try and help our friends and any tourists to the general Rolt area and promote our messages of good-will, drunken rambling and a la mode cocktail recipes across the whole of Malton. We also get stuck in when the shizzle hits the fizzle and we’ll maintain tactical resource points, revivication points and all that trash-talking jive like that.
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About The Regulars and How To Become One!
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We’re quite a nice group overall, and, without wishing to sound biased or overly arrogant we think we’re one of the best groups in the game; especially if you enjoy banter, surreal streams of consciousness, mischief, risqué jokes, fart gags and endless tales of one-upmanship. If this sort of thing sounds like it appeals to you, you might wish to investigate whether we make a good fit for each other and whether we tickle you as much as you tickle us.
Phew, that all sounds a little rude, doesn’t it?
All you need do if you’re brave enough to take the plunge, is follow us and tweet @BurchellBarkeep or like our Facebook Page or even, if you can't handle the social media whirl, visit the forum forum and talk to us. And if you want to become a regular then all we ask is that do this, get involved in our community, tell us you want in AND put The Burchell Arms Regulars in your group tags because then we become eligible for some state benefit vouchers and 20% off at the local kebab house.
What you will find is that we are a democracy, and all decisions are made in consultation with our regulars. We find this works (and we’ve had political animals tell us that we’re a ‘meritocracy’, a ‘commune’ or a ‘booze-addled group of fucktards’ in rapid succession) and; as we want to be shaped by those who sail in us, like an ocean-going yacht of such magnificence it causes Somali pirates to doff their caps to us as we motor on by; then we think it’s important that every last man-jack of you put your oar in, and try and steer the Regulars out towards the horizon together; a rather mangled analogy for synergy in motion.
Like most right-minded groups in the game we don’t hold with ZERGING, PKing, Death Cults, spying on other groups (including ours) and smashing generators in resource buildings and we, quite rightly we feel, come down very heavily on anyone who participates in this sort of grief-ridden nonsense through judicious use of our rightly-lauded Deadbeat List.
If you get involved with being an "asshat" (lit: someone who participates in zerging, PKing, GKing, dealth-cultist activities or supporting those who seek to do any of the above) then it’s quite likely you’ll end up on our Deadbeat List. As an "asshat" you can expect your arse to be handed to you on a plate by our Knights Watchmen, Regulars and anyone else who sees our Deadbeat List as being of more merit than, for example, say the Rogue’s Gallery. This, for you, unless you’re a ‘Griefer’ and someone who sits in their mother’s basement angrily masturbating whilst you enjoy your latest generator kill or being able to quote an RG bounty whilst player-killing a regular who, because they're not that worried about you or your Fist of Righteous Justice, can always be found in the same location; will be a bit of a grind. Well! All is not lost! You can make amends by telling us that you’re sorry, and you’d like to stop being an "asshat" and then we can all enjoy the cold beer in the Burch in delightful harmony.
Of course, if you’re a "Griefing Asshat" this won’t happen and we’ll continue killing you until you move out of your mother’s basement when she has to foreclose her mortgage due to the lack of rent her 40 year old son is paying her. Obviously, the wi-fi in the new bedsit ain’t quite so good, so you’ll have to use your limited allowance to download your usual quota of hardcore kitten porn instead; sorry about that.
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Man The Barry Cades! (sic)
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Look, we have to recognise that we’re under assault by ravening hordes of undead (well, Rocky doesn’t, but he’s special) so we have a plan for how well barricaded our buildings are for optimum clambering in when we’ve been out for the kebabs, against stopping Old Mrs Liefkowitch from getting in when she’s on one of her turns, against stopping a new lad or lass from getting off the streets and into an employment, training or heavy drinking opportunity. Below is our barricade plan.
Where to chuck the beer barrels and shit
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Getting The Needle From One Of Us!
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 One thing we pride ourselves upon is keeping survivors ticking, whether that be through our home-cooked food (the good Father’s ‘olive’ and ‘chicken’ ‘pizza’ is a ‘must’), wide range of cask ales, bottle beers, draft ciders, whiskeys, brandies and white rum or, if you’re really desperate, we can make zombies whole again.
We do this via our main revivication point at Otto Street. If you get there, post a message on this thread in our forum, or Tweet or Facebook us (see above for the contact details) and have a chat with us; one of our brave group of Revive Corps will be along (generally within one working day) to shove their needle in the back of your neck.
If you really can’t get to Otto Street, then post your whereabouts on our forum, on the requisite thread, or tell the Burchell Barkeep on Twitter, or the Facebook page and we’ll get to you as soon as we can. It just might take a little longer as Zabuden insists on driving, and we all know what happened last time he got behind the wheel. We’re still picking bits of Old Mrs Liefkowitch from the front bumper and the Burch-O-Wagen keeps veering off to the left.
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Say You're In Another Group And You Wanna Talk To Us!
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We know what you’re after, you dorty old bord; in the olden days people used to whisper in hushed terms about ‘diplomacy’ or even ‘porn collection’ but nowadays we think of you in terms of being either our drinking buddies or downright blood brothers or people we wave at in the street when we’re out shopping but don’t really recognise and pray god you don’t ask us how our Uncle Colin is doing with his gout.
If you want to forge some close relationships with us (and why not?! We wash regularly and keep the guest loos at least moderately clean) then Tweet or Facebook us, or come and visit us on the forum; we’d be delighted to host you and give you some of our dry-roasted nuts. Or let you sleep with Dinger if you’re a blood brothersister. Just pop in and ask for Sante, Rocky or Dinger and someone'll come and rouse us from our slumber...
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