Stream57 has built team spirit in myriad questionable ways... through gambling (Poker night), substance abuse (beer and wine tasting), and rock and roll (guitar hero). A couple weekends ago, we moved to a fresh, untested sin: wrath and violence.  The vehicle for this depraved team-building exercise was the infamous New Jersey outpost "Paintball Depot."

This place is in West Milford, New Jersey, a bothersome forty-five minute creepy van ride from the midtown office. We all loaded up, bright and early… earlier than many of us get up for real work, in fact.  The town is an empty sprawl of "flora" (whoever thought there were so many trees?) and "fauna" (we saw turkeys, but restrained ourselves from shooting them), as well as awesome hick-y bars where people wear lots of denim.

Once upon a time, this game might have been a scrimmage, but with our recent growth, it was nothing short of a war in the wilderness, the meeting of vast forces laying waste to the landscape. The designated teams were the noble "Phelanators" and the evil "Geiger Counters," captained by two of your dedicated bloggers, and there were around thirteen people under each standard. We were identifiable by red and white armbands, respectively, that were bright enough to inspire comraderie but subtle enough that you had to squint for a few seconds to figure out who you were shooting at. As far as stand-out players, the Geiger Counters had Jeremy, their Achilles, a seasoned paintball veteran with his very own equipment; the Phelanators had little but our warriors’ spirit.

Oh, and Kat, our well-kept secret weapon, a lithe, non-threatening graphic designer who turned out to be the physical embodiment of total destruction.

It was a cold day... a damn cold day. Luckily, we were all outfitted with baggy camo jumpsuits and goggles, which were essential, because those paintballs could definitely take out an eye. Even as it was, a few people got mouthfuls of paint, which, according to Jim, is "kind of sweet, but not in a good way." People will tell you it really hurts when you get hit with a paintball, and they do indeed travel at high speeds, but I assure you – it’s a good kind of pain.

  There were some truly brilliant key moments – Angelo’s execution and Aaron and Matt’s standoffs in the trenches, Jeremy and Steve’s elaborate approaches and Bruce’s pitched defenses. The Geiger Counters were formidable, winning their fair share of confrontations, although the Phelanators’ victorious assault on the hill before lunch will echo in history, like the Alamo or the battle of Thermopylae. The final, epic game of capture the flag, a battle of attrition and desperation, will be remembered forever, as well... it is inscribed in the marble of our corporate memory.

After the matches, and the pizza, we went to one of those bars we were talking about. "Jiggs," I think it was. Nachos and celebratory brews were shared, and the rivals reconvened as brothers and sisters to reminisce on the day’s events. We made it back by early evening, tired and satisfied.

Make no mistake... teams were built. Morale was bolstered. Great webcasting innovations were tossed around and field-tested. Pictures were taken. Lunch was eaten. Good times were had by all.