Pukin Dogs Paintball

As detailed on the Two-tube Blow-Back Basics page, these semi-auto paintball guns function by releasing a dual burst of gas from the valve to both propel the ball and re-cock the action of the gun.  Problems arise when there is insufficient gas to perform both duties, or the amount of gas being used is not properly balanced between both duties. These problems usually manifest themselves in one of two ways; The inability to attain a usable velocity, or the inability of the gun to re-cock. The conventional method of overcoming the problem is to change springs until the valve is releasing enough gas to overcome a deficit in any one direction. However, conventional methods are not always the most efficient, and sometimes do not even work, especially when dealing with low pressure operations.
The common problems described above are the types I encountered when working on the low pressure conversion of one of my Spyders. The conversion included the use of a large Shock Tech volume chamber, and a TASO turbo valve kit. The turbo valve kit came with a new valve, in which the top half had been basically removed to improve gas flow, and a valve pin which was turned down to allow more gas flow. The parts were placed in a Bob Long Millennium Spyder replacement body, which is the full size body style, as opposed to the more commonly seen compact Spyder bodies. My goal was to get the gun operating in the neighborhood of 350 to 400 psi. At an indicated 400 psi, the gun was shooting 345 fps, which of course is way too hot. By manipulating the springs or lowering the operating pressure, I could get the velocity down, but then the gun would refuse to re-cock. No mater what kind of combination I tried, if I lowered the velocity, the gun would stop re-cocking once velocity was brought below 320 fps or so.
What was the problem here? Fortunately, from my experience with the Line SI Promaster, I realized that the problem was an improper balance in how much gas was being used to propel the ball and how much was being used to re-cock the gun. Afterall, I obviously had adequate pressure and volume if the gun functioned well at 345 fps. The problem was in how that pressure and volume was being distributed. While most people would combat the problem by increasing the pressure, then using spring changes to limit the volume for a usable velocity, that method would not only defeat my goal of operating at 350 to 400 psi, but would also be less efficient than using what resources I already had available.

Since I obviously had too much gas being used to propel the ball, the solution to the problem was to re-direct some of that gas for re-cocking. The most cheaply reversible and easiest drop-in method of re-directing the gas is to modify the shape of the valve pin. The shape of the valve pin determines how much of the gas entering the valve is directed upwards to propel the ball, and how much will be left to escape out the front to re-cock the action. While the stock valve pin would not allow enough volume of gas to travel upwards for low pressure operation, the turbo valve kit pin actually allowed too much, due to it’s radical cut.  Thinking somewhere in the middle might work better, I took a Dremel tool and modified a another stock pin, cutting the shape down, but nowhere near as much as the Turbo Valve kit pin. I wanted more volume up top than the stock pin could provide, but not as much as the Turbo pin allowed.

Using the same set-up that had resulted in 345 fps, the addition of the modified valve pin dropped the velocity by over 20 fps while continuing to allow the gun to re-cock. I had successfully re-directed some of the gas volume and pressure from propelling the ball to re-cocking the gun – in other words, I had balanced the system (or at least come closer to it). Once the system was more balanced, a simple main spring change dropped the velocity down to something useful. Main spring changes have less of an impact on re-cocking than most people realize. While it’s true that a weaker spring will cause the release of less gas, keep in mind that it actually takes less gas to blow-back a weaker spring.

With the way the gun is set up now, it is easy manipulate the velocity using only pressure adjustments on the regulator. The gun will now re-cock while shooting anywhere from 240 fps and up (the need to function at a low operating velocity was necessitated by night play in scenario games). A velocity of 290 fps requires an indicated 375 psi.

Not all improperly balanced systems need more volume and pressure for re-cock. Some, such as Neild Bingham’s PT Enforcer needed exactly the opposite. While the gun re-cocked with no trouble, velocity maxxed out at 180 to 190 fps. Check out the PT Enforcer Velocity Improvements page for his unique solution to the problem.

  I knew he loved it.  It was wild, fast, exhilarating, and he got to show sides of himself I had probably never seen–and never would see, unless I did it too.  An intense competition, a game with plenty of opportunity for strategy and plotting.  And, at the heart of it, lots of yelling and shooting.
  I needed to try this paintball thing.
  Once the decision was made to try the game–after all, I loved laser tag, this was the same thing, just with pain, right?–I wanted to use all the knowledge I’d acquired so far and my own natural abilities to prove myself strong and able. I had already done the research.  My insatiable curiosity and talent for listening to my boyfriend ramble the night after playing (and frankly, any other night I asked any questions) had yielded a great deal of insider information.  I knew things that other newbies wouldn’t know.  Such as what “newbies” meant (players new to the game, i.e., easy targets), and what newbies shouldn’t do (act like newbies).  Looking back, I see I might have missed a few details.  But there was at least one main point I actually processed and retained: you can gain a lot from being sneaky, from ambushes, but don’t sit around without some sort of plan.  That’s not being aggressive, and being aggressive is usually what works.  According to my inside track information, non-aggression seemed to either leave you bored and out of the game because it runs ahead of you, or bored and out of the game because it runs up on you and shoots you.  So I knew I had one piece of strategy to cling to.
  The set-up was simple.  My boyfriend and his friends played at another friend’s house, so there was a lot of land, but not a lot of people and no pesky entry fees or overpriced paint.  It would be a nurturing environment for my first try at this.  Well, at least no strangers that he couldn’t fuss at if they hurt me.  Not that I was worried about that of course.  Simply taking stock of all the advantages.
  The next step was finding something to wear.  I scrounged around for good clothes, clothes that would let me be comfortable and not too visible, yet still look cool and not show how nervous I was, that is, in the unlikely event that I might get that way.  I had a muted green sweatshirt, and gray sweatpants. I got to the field and looked around.  It was spring, and the field was mostly brown grass and brown trees.  No green whatsoever.  Oops, I thought.  But there were plenty of shadows, so the green shirt wouldn’t stand out too much.  Then I noticed that the guys kept pointing at my pants and giggling.  I looked down and saw that heather gray becomes quite bright white in sunlight, especially against all the drab brown of our surroundings.  Ok, well I’ll just borrow my boyfriend’s camo pants.  That done, I was ready.  No, you need to cover your hair, I was told.  Oh.  Lacking one of those French foreign legion-looking caps with the draping cloth down the back, I tied (well, with some help) a t-shirt around my head.  Ok, now I’m cool.  Give me a gun, please.  Now I have a weapon!  I’m ready!  No, no.  I had to take it to the chrono and see what speed it was shooting (that is, chronometer, it makes sure no one gets hit too hard, a nice safety device).  This was way more complicated than I thought.  It was taking an hour just to get ready to play…
  Finally we start.  I walk out with the guys to hide in the woods.  I sit behind a tree.  The others would come up on us from, well, any direction.  I search for signs of movement.  I could feel the adrenaline rush.  If I get this tense over some guys shooting colored balls at me, I can only imagine what it might feel like to be in a real life and death defensive position.  Scary.
  So, in the inordinate amount of time I have to wait, I continue to ponder the complexities of war and peace and other philosophical questions.  And then I wait a bit more.  Finally I get restless and begin to move.  I thought this showed my fighting instinct, and how I was already showing great potential at the game, and I was using my “be aggressive” strategy.  Then I see people!  I start shooting, knowing I’m going to get them because I had moved to intercept, and I was doing great.  But nothing happened.  The gun isn’t firing.  Stubbornly, I keep trying, until it occurs to me that stubbornness is usually a fault and then I turn around to run and get somewhere where I can examine the gun.  Of course I get hit.  By the twelve-year-old who happened to be playing with us.  The only guy I actually towered over (at 5’3″ I don’t get to tower much) and he’s the one that got me.  After the initial shock, I had another revelation–the safety.  Check the safety.  Oh look, it’s on.  Damn! Dammitdammitdammit (well those were some of the words I was thinking at the time).  It was only after the frustration wore off that I had time to think, ow, that hurt.
  But not too badly.  It was reassuring to discover I could definitely handle the pain, which was a bit of a concern, and now that I was familiar with the gun’s safety, I was anxious to actually do something useful in a game.
  We start again.  I’m on the team moving on the others who’ve hidden in the woods.  We get close and someone tries to run at a teammate and I enthusiastically shoot buckets at them, missing completely but successfully forcing them back into the woods.  I start to feel cool again.
  I walk around some more, looking for people (there’s a great deal more down time in this “exhilarating” game than I anticipated) and I see someone so I hide behind a tree and wait for them to get closer so I can kill them!  I mean, shoot them!  When I begin my little battle, I realize trees are often smaller than they look.  Or maybe they just start to feel rather small when someone is shooting at you.  It happened quickly.  My tree took a couple of hits, and I felt paint splatter on my fingers.  Ewww, that’s icky.  I ask if fingers count.  ‘Cause it was such a little bit of paint.  Yes, the guys around me call out.  Ok, I’m out.  I start to walk off the field, I run into someone doing the same.  I excitedly describe in graphic detail my first real skirmish (proving that the play by play rambling that occurs in discussions of paintball games is indeed compulsive and involuntary) and I mention the way I got hit.  “The ball hit the tree and splattered on you?” he asks.
  “Yep.  It sucks, ’cause…”
  “Splatter doesn’t count.”
  “What?”
  “You weren’t out.”
  “Oh.”
  How nice that these things were so NOT clearly explained to me before the game.  Next game, I’ll be ready, really.  How much is left that can go suprisingly wrong, anyway?
  Well I can tilt the gun back and the ammo box can fall off.  That was walking around, and therefore not disastrous, but a bit goofy nonetheless.  I pick up the loose paintballs.  And for others of you getting your first account of the game from me (cool, hope I’m influencing you) an ammo box isn’t a box.  It’s not even like an ammo clip.  It’s a sort of oval-shaped thing that holds the balls and sits on top of the gun.  The little balls filter out the bottom of it into the gun barrel.  Not exactly streamlined, but it works.
  I try to improve.  I spend one game wandering along the outside of the field, I see no one and the game is called ’cause the 12 year old gets hurt.  He’s a great kid, but I was understandably disappointed that my flanking maneuver was thwarted.
  Ok, one more try.  This time I creep along with some teammates, and I see the enemy ahead.  The terminology is impossible not to pick up once you start playing.  So the enemy is up ahead, and we sort of spread apart.  I’m a bit more hidden, and the other guy gets hit.  I see someone shooting away from me and I sneak up to get a clear shot.  I miss, but I have a tree ready for the expected retaliation.  The tree is my friend.  Camaraderie is supposedly one of the major rewards of paintball, you know.  So my tree is taking the  shots like a trooper, I peek around and shoot, and duck back.  I can hear the paint smack the tree, I can practically feel the impact, probably because my face is right next to the tree.  So I shoot again, I duck again, I’m doing well.  I keep aiming for that little piece of cloth, it’s a shoulder, that I can see. I fire again.  I hear, “I’m hit.”
  “Really?”  I yell.  “I really hit you?”  Hallelujah!  I am so thrilled.  I can do this!  I stay hidden, ready to move on to my next victim, and then I hear, the game’s over.  Aw shit, I was just getting started.  Surely my time isn’t up yet.  Perhaps there is treachery afoot.
  “It’s really over?”
  “Yeah,” I hear, and everyone walks past me, pretty nonchalantly considering the milestone that just occurred.  Well, I’d noticed my progress at least.  I reluctantly leave my tree and jog to catch up.  By the time I  reach the base and see my boyfriend, I’ve brightened up and I’m practically jumping up and down with the great news that I shot Neild!  I really did!  Um, sorry Neild, but isn’t that neat?  Clearly such displays were not common among this bunch, but hey, I was new at this, and I’d finally managed to hit somebody, and it felt great.  And then I remember, I’m just getting started.

Epilogue: We played a couple more woods games, which were fun but not so dramatic.  We then went on to play speedball later that day, which is a game played on a very small field (the ends are just out of range of the guns, 20 yards, maybe?) with boards standing up to hide behind.  We did mostly one-on-one.  I won once or twice, and got hit several other times.  The pain continued to be not a big deal, and I continued to have fun.  It was great to finally be able to understand what my boyfriend had been talking about for years.  So the moral of the story is, it is a pretty approachable sport, and there are a lot of different styles you can use to play.  Look at me, and look at the rest of these guys that make up the website and absolutely love what they’re doing and would love you to love it (yes, like the song) too, and you’ll see that stereotypes don’t exist here–it’s really true, anybody can play.  If you’re at all intrigued, you might as well try it.  I was really glad I did.