The Burro is Back!

I’ve been working away in London again. I had Wi-Fi so could have posted but, if I’m honest, I didn’t feel like it. I didn’t play MCPE or SC once, not once. What this shows me is that I’m still bored with MCPE  and the horsey update for SC just hasn’t grabbed me. I didn’t think it would.

Kaalus is already working on the next update and despite the first news being the ability to paint more blocks, about which I couldn’t care less, he has teased there is a new survival mechanic on the way. Hallelujah. Hopefully the next update will re-spark my interest in playing because if it doesn’t, the upcoming MCPE Realms just might and I’m not one for playing more than one thing at once.

Oh, as I was in London rather than the backwater I live in near Manchester, I decided to give Ingress another go, but more of that in my next post…

 

Purpose is what gives life meaning…

MMOs, in my limited experience, strive to do something that Second Life never did. Well, if I’m honest they offer up several things but for the purposes of this post I just want to look at NPCs and what they do when they are not dealing with players. In Second Life there were no such things as NPCs unless created by the users and the AI on offer (again coded by users) ranged from not very good through terrible to non-existent, but that was fine because SL was never about providing NPCs in the same way an MMO has to. In the vast majority of MMOs NPCs are vital as they provide ‘touch down’ points for players to interact with the game’s systems such as the story or inventory management or item upgrading. Bottom line is if every NPC in every MMO went on strike tomorrow the who damn shebang would fall on its arse in an hour.

MMO worlds are touted as living, breathing creations for us to explore and despite the huge amounts of available evidence to the contrary we believe this falsehood. Predominantly I believe this is simply because we want to. We want to believe our games are alive so we can more easily feel we too are a living, breathing part of them and that’s why when we are confronted with NPCs who just seem to stand on the same spot forever it breaks this feeling and upsets us.

Take LOTRO for example, I mean why are the street traders in Bree stood at their stalls all day every day no matter what time it is or what the weather is like? Do they never go home to their loved ones? If I stayed at work all night the missus would have my guts for garters and yet these guys happy to stay there way past their tea time? Same goes for the gate guards, why are they always the same blokes every single time you see them? Does their captain not rotate them? And then there are the old codgers in the same small room of Scholar’s Tower! How come they are always ruddy well there? Sigh… I could go on. Turbine’s Middle Earth is full of immersion-breaking static NPCs & disinterested animals, which is a real shame.

You see for a world to be alive the people in it must have purpose. We the players do, from slaughtering rats and bears and boars by the zoo-full to raiding the deepest dungeon for the sword of punchy slicey death but this is wasted when the NPCs are nothing more than glorified window dressing. When they never move, never interact, never do anything interesting or even mundane then the world no longer feels alive and instead begins to look flatter than a witch’s tit.

And that’s where I’m hoping Guild Wars 2 will improve on things. Arenanet seems to have worked really hard on making their NPCs live and work in their world and that really makes me want to explore just to see how far they have gone with this. So far I’ve found animals that attack each other, guides that show you around interesting areas, woodcutters that carry logs between piles, children that play games, guards that defend their posts and a dozen other little ways in which, at last, the purposeless are given purpose and the world comes that little more alive. I really hope Tyria is the first world I’ve found that really makes believe it is alive

 

On not playing a woman…

Ahhh, another one of those posts I’ve been thinking about writing for ages but never getting around to only then to decide to start at the exact same time as everyone else on the interwebz This time it was the excellent rambling joyful mess of Too Long Didn’t Listen* who discussed the issue of playing across genders that fired me up and finally made me put finger to keyboard.

I’ve said before how I never play women in games, unless that is the default option such as in Portal or Mirror’s Edge and how this isn’t because I dislike playing women, more that I feel more comfortable playing a man. Well the upcoming release of Guild Wars 2 and my desire to play a Sylvari is making me have second thoughts and this has caused me to look at why I don’t normally play lasses and why a leafy elf should make me consider doing so.

So why don’t I play a lass? Is it a loss of my natural studliness? An inability to connect to being a lass? A fear of being hit on by horny basement dwellers intent of some one hand typing fun? Well all of those and none if my honest answer. Especially the latter which never happens & a quick “I’m a fella, fella…” would deal with.

Well, for starters I don’t feel ‘right’ in a woman character. Maybe I didn’t mind in Portal & ME because they were both shown from the first person perspective and so I never actually saw myself as a woman, but in an MMO where I see myself from behind I just don’t like seeing myself as a sexy lady warrior with a lovely bum. I find it very hard to separate the sexy from the sex, so to speak. Women in most games, as in most media, are depicted deliberately as gorgeous and I am a red blooded male which means I like to see at gorgeous lasses. But when I’m battling orcs, I don’t want a lovely wee bottom putting me off, yet I seem incapable of stopping my inner voice saying “phwoar, what a lovely arse you have there, eh?” to itself. Frankly I find it less distracting if I stick to a fella and let my subconscious go back to sleep where is can daydream in peace about Miranda Kerr in nowt but Jimmy Choos.

But what about your roleplay? your stories? long time readers might ask. Well, I can only say that here I fall down as a roleplayer, it is as simple as that. I wouldn’t go so far as to say *all* the characters I’ve created are Mary Sues, but some of them obviously are to a greater or lesser extent. Where I feel I broke away from this was with Dr Beck and his girlfriend, but the rest of the time I’m been Mary Sueing it**, and this includes my time in LOTRO. Maybe one day I would like to write a story from a female POV, but as I’ve hardly written a thing for a year let’s assume it’s not top of my list, eh?

So the bottom line (no pun intended) is that I play a male character I can not only identify with, but can also project some desired aspect of my internal fantasy life on to. Conversely I don’t play a woman because I’m not interested in roleplaying from a female point of view and I find myself daydreaming about what she’d look like in a bikini instead of concentrating on hitting orcs.

Well done me, I’m a vain caveman. Wonderful.

* They also link to an article on the brilliant Mary Sue blog.

** Which I don’t mind as I wrote them for my amusement.

 

Ringing in the changes…

A couple of weeks ago I started a well deserved holiday from work. What I didn’t know was that I’d also be starting a holiday from SL at the same time. I didn’t mean to, I just found that as I unwound from work I didn’t fancy logging into SL. The first week passed and I found myself still not wanting to log in, instead I watched the whole Lord of The Rings trilogy with The Boy, did some decorating, cooked some BBQs and never once missed SL. Unlike previous breaks I wasn’t angry at SL, it hadn’t pissed me off again, I was just… bored.

The second week was the breaker – I finally redecorated my tiny computer room & put up a shed-load of shelves which allowed my to get all my old RPG books out of the attic and arrange them in my new nest. And then it happened… as I thumbed through my 20+ year old MERP source books I began to want to play in Middle Earth again. Almost before I realised what I was doing I had downloaded the Lord of The Rings Online game. Blimey.

I’ve been playing it quite a bit over the last few days and so far I’m rather taken with it (I think I’ll be posting some of my tales from that world here – stay tuned) yet while I doubt I’ll be coming back to SL for a while I *will* be coming back. Honest.

 

Gang Wars: End Game – Part 3

The old man pushed Meili roughly out of the way and turned his sightless face to the window and stared out into the stormy night. It was true, he could ‘see’ the three groups of Tong soldiers were being routed, their lamps scattering like fireflies caught in a sudden gust. Over the wind he could ‘hear’ the cries of harrying forces, the sharp angular voices of the green skins. His keen mind raced, desperately trying to plan and plot his next move but every path and branch he explored was a dead end. Across the water, atop the hotel in the rooms where the object of his bitter hatred lived, he knew she was watching. Watching and smiling, enjoying his defeat, enjoying the end of his Tong. He span around to the girl and felt the elation welling up inside her and it ignited his fury as though a match to oil.

He grabbed her by the throat and lifted her clear of the ground “I may not have the pleasure of killing your bitch mistress tonight,” his voice was wild and full of murder, “but I swear I’ll make you sorry she thwarted me!” He turned to the men in the room and growled “Fan, get over her and tie her down until I’m ready for her,” Fan grabbed the terrified girl’s arms and began lashing the woman to the chair with his own dirty silk belt, as he did so he glanced up at the boss, was it is his imagination or was he taller than before, less decrepit looking, less… less human? He threw prayer to his ancestors that he’d get out of this alive.

“You two,” the boss thundered to his general, “get out there and stop this! I want that bitch’s head here tonight, do I make myself clear?HERE! ” Both men nodded and leapt to their feet, Fan’s own trepidation rising as he noticed the traces of alarm in both the general’s faces as they headed out of the door.

“Now you,” the boss glared down at Meili “you are going to wish your ancestors had drowned your filthy, stinking line at birth!” Her face was a mask of terror whilst behind her Fan was nervously glancing towards the door. “When I’ve finished with you, the fates of your family will seem like a blessing you’ll beg me for!” Fan tried to catch the boss’ attention “You’ll curse your own parents,” Fan reached out a shaking hand towards the boss, “You’ll plead with me… WHAT?” shrieked the old man, no longer able to ignore him. Fan nodded slightly towards the door and all three turned to face it and the increasingly loud and thoroughly unmistakable sounds of a fight taking place outside.

Meili, Fan and the boss all had very different ideas about what the nearing struggle meant. Fan, fearing the authorities, vigilantes or Dragon Tong were about to storm the room, bolted for the window and with a desperate leap smashed his way through. On the other side he hit the icy wharf hard and skittered along the slippery stone and off the edge, plunging into the freezing waters below with a stifled cry.

Meili, hoping the authorities, vigilantes or Dragon Tong were about to storm the room, began to scream for help, her lungs bellowing out for all to hear, her voice carrying far over the wharf and through the storm and up to the highest reaches of her Lady’s hotel.

The boss, convinced the authorities, vigilantes or Dragon Tong were about to storm the room, turned to face the door. He reared up, his skin and bones stretching as he grew taller and broader. Let the Jager come, he thought, let the foxes and the nuns and the dragons come and I will slay them all.

There was a strangled cry from the corridor outside and all fell silent. Even Meili stopped her shouts for help and stared at the door. Suddenly it swung in and the diminutive figure of The Voice fell shot through it, his hands clasped across his throat. The door hit the wall and bounced back to close itself. The small man staggered backwards towards the boss and Meili, emitting a strange wet gasping sound all the way. “Voice?” enquired the boss, his voice, now more animal than human, thick with confusion. The small man turned on his heel and Meili cried out as she saw why he gasped and gurgled. His hands were clasped across the ruin of his throat, fingers clawing desperately at ripped skin and flesh, digging into bleeding, oozing void. His entire throat, including the weapon of his deadly voice box, had been torn out down to his spine. The Voice’s eyes were wide with a mixture of fear, shock and desperation as he stared at the boss and his legs began to buckle under him. He fell to his knees, great gouts of blood pumping from his terrible wound and pooling about him. His lips were still trying to form words as he folded to the floor and, with one last great sigh wetly rasped from his torn throat, and he died where he lay.

The boss looked at the small body in front of him, stunned that anyone could have best The Voice like this. And what of Han Hong, the giant with hands like steel bear traps? Whoever did this to The Voice, the Korean would snap him in two!

From outside there was a sudden, terrible scream that ended with a sickening crack. The boss smiled and shouted “Han, bring me what is left of him! I want to make his final journey an eternal nightma…”

The door swung open again and the old man’s jubilant voice died in his throat as the ruined form of Han Hang, his body bent backwards at the waist until the back of his head touched the floor by his own feet and broken ribs and spine jutted from his burst abdomen, was pushed into the room by a slight Chinese man with long black hair and a face half covered by a glowing red dragon tattoo.

Meili, still tied to a chair, gasped at his apperance.. He was caked in blood, it splattered his whole body and dripped like rain from his bare hands. He looked as though he’d walked through an abattoir!

He shot her a wolfish smile and said, “Hello again pretty one. The Doc sent me.”

***{}***

To be continued…
All the “Gang War” posts can be read on my blog here and over on the Steelhead Ning here.

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Gang Wars: End Game – Part 2

“Well my dear, when they said you were beautiful I had no idea just how beautiful,” Meili watched the corrupt old man leer at her with sightless eyes from across the room and her skin crawled. Behind her the only door out of the room was blocked by the man who had grabbed her as she went to see Rynhold. Between her and the old man stood a large table with several chairs around two of which were occupied, one by a small evil looking man and the another by a tall, stoney faced giant.

“My my, such fear. I can smell it from here, my dear but please, you have nothing to fear here,” the old man said his croaking voice dripping with false charm. The small man snorted a cruel laugh and shot a look across the table to his tall companion. She had heard of The Voice and Han Hong, who in the slums hadn’t. These men, these… monsters were responsible for nearly all the misery and squalor in her life, all the lost friends and family, all the fear and despair, all could be traced back in lines of tears and blood to the hands of these animals. They were evil spirits, ever hungry, ever greedy, remorselessly swallowing up everyone and everything and their desire to own and control and kill and hurt was without limit. She thought of the people she had grown up with, the good, decent families who had worked and lived and died in this rancid part of a hateful town in a country that barley tolerated their Chinese feet upon its soil, and she saw they were trapped with these devils forever. Just by being born, an act she had no say in or control over, her life had been forfeit, gifted to the Tong, wrapped up and presented to this disgusting old man and there was nothing she or anyone could do. With sudden clarity she marvelled at the sheer godless nature of her life, of all life. She hardly mattered to the people in this room, beyond a desire for the sort of pleasure a cat would extract from toying with a wounded mouse, so it hardly seemed likely she would rank highly in a Divine Being’s thoughts and actions. She was a speck of nothing in an eternity of nothing and she would die here, tonight, and her whole life would have amounted to nothing. Yet… yet she accepted that. She opened her heart and let it in. She meant nothing, so what.

But not Li Fe, not little Li Fe her beautiful nephew. His life meant something.It meant something to her and it had been stolen from her. He had been taken and murdered alone and in the dark by a monster. And for what reason? For nothing? That was something she couldn’t accept, something she wouldn’t accept. She turned to look at the man who had kidnapped her and then back round at the two generals sat at the table. Their faces were hard and their eyes cruel and she hated them with every drop of her soul. She looked up and glared into the blind eyes of the wizened old man who ran the Tong “Yes,” she said in but strong voice, “I am scared of you, but I also pity you.”

The nasty smile on Voice’s face fell like a collapsing building “Pity?” he hissed, “Pity? You stupid… “ The boss silenced him raised hand, “Your pity is as misplaced as your courage my dear. There is only one you should feel any pity for tonight. Come here and I will show you who. Come.”

Meili looked him unable to move, silently suspecting he would kill her here and now “No, I do not mean you, silly girl,” he laughed “Come here and will show you the only soul in Shanghai in need of your pity.” He smiled a thin, empty smile and moved to the window that overlooked the wharves outside. Slowly, glancing at the men sat at the table, she moved towards the old man. He held out his hands and took her by the wrists, his grip firm and as cold as ice as he pulled her to the window. “Here,” his voice dripped with vile false charm ”look across the water and tell me what you see.”

For a second or two she was unsure of what she was supposed to be looking for, the night was dark and the snow storm obscured all but the far lights of the round houses and hotel. The hotel! She span round to look at the old man, her eyes wide with fear and he took hold of her chin and forced her face back to the window, “Keep looking my dear, I wouldn’t want you to miss the fate of the more worthy recipient of your pity. Look closely, can you see my men?” Indeed she could see small groups of bobbing lights, lanterns carried in the darkness by Tong and they were slowly converging upon the hotel. She had to get free, she had to warn her Lady, she had to…

“You can do nothing my dear,” the boss purred, “Nothing but watch as the I finally rid myself of your precious Lady.” He turned her face back to his, “Once she has been dealt with, we will be free to discuss your feelings toward me further. And if you should find you still harbour even the smallest hint of pity then I’m sure The Voice would help with a quiet word in your ear after which I can assure you that you will feel whatever I want you to feel for as long as I want you to feel it.”

Her blood ran cold, she had imagined they were going to kill her but now the full horror of her fate revealed itself to her. She was to become the willing plaything of this corrupt old monster! “Nothing to say now, my dear?” the boss let go of her face and whispered in her ear, “No brave insults? No clever observations?”

She turned to look out at the bobbing lights in the darkness of the storm, each one a stone tied to her ankles dragging her down to the bottom of an ocean whose depths she dare not contemplate. And suddenly the ropes were cut “No,” she said quietly, “Nothing… nothing except…”

His eyes burned into her, “Except?” his voice was diamond hard.

“Why are your men running away from the hotel?” she smiled.

To be continued…
All the “Gang War” posts can be read on my blog here and over on the Steelhead Ning here.

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Gang Wars: End Game – Part 1

Beck came round slumped on the floor. He was cold, it was dark and someone was talking nearby “… must have watched her come up the stairs…followed her…” he pulled his eyes open only to find he couldn’t see “…the retinas may be detached… could be temporary, could be permanent…” the voice said “…no idea how many… or where they took her…” Beck managed to sit up but decided not to try and stand until the world stopped spinning. He felt stone beneath his hands and wood behind his back, the strong odour of fish was all around him “…must have be in a room somewhere near the docks…most likely the cannery…that means the Tong took us…” It began to dawn on him that it was his voice, slurring and mumbling to himself, trying to work out what had happened, trying to talk himself round.

His head ached and his face felt swollen and tender to the touch. Whoever had hit him had done a good job. He opened his eyes again and this time found the darkness speckled and shot through with grey patches, light crept in to his inky prison from all around and his eyes, far from being blind, were merely taking their time adjusting until he could eventually make out his surroundings. He was in a small, dark room filled with crates and shelving, the air was frigid and the only light came from under what he guessed was the door and from between ill-fitting wooden planks in the walls. He was in a cannery cold store, he fancied, and alone at that for there was no sign of Meili being in the small room with him. Fear and anger rose in his belly as his mind raced with terrible visions of her fate at the hands of these animals. He struggled to his feet and staggered over to the door. Locked! He banged his fists as against it and and shouted as loud as he could muster until there was a sudden hard thump from the other side.

“You shut up!” a Chinese man shouted.

“Where is Meili? Tell me where the girl is!” Beck bellowed back.

The voice on the other side laughed cruelly “She with boss. She have good time. Pretty girl, eh? Boss like pretty girls.”

Beck threw himself at the door, battering it with his shoulder, hurling insults and curses through it until he used up what meager energy he had left and felt himself slide slowly to the floor. Outside his tormentor shouted back “You no worry. You next, OK? Boys see you good, OK?” he cackled and banged on the door. “You go in cans, doctor, understand? You go in cans.” The laughter moved aways from the door and footsteps tramped off away into the cannery leaving Beck alone in the darkness once more.

“Hi Doc,” came a voice from the shadows.

Beck’s froze as he felt hot breath on his neck, skin almost touching his own, “Who’s there?” he whispered quietly into the dark.

“They’ve got her, Doc, they’ve got our girl. You let them walk in and you let them take her and now I’m going to have to get her back, aren’t I?”

Beck was holding his breath, afraid to move or make a sound.

“Well? Aren’t I?”

Beck nodded, a small, jerky movement laced with fear.

“Then I best get started, eh?”

The shadows rippled as Jonny O stepped out from the darkness and smiled a smile full of venom and murder.

To be continued…
All the “Gang War” posts can be read on my blog here and over on the Steelhead Ning here.

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Gang Wars: Kidnapped

The knock roused Beck away from the cold meal he’d been pushing around the plate for the last fifteen minutes. For a moment he wondered who it could be, the snow storm blowing in over the hills from from St Helens had driven everyone inside seeking warmth, but he supposed it was a patient looking for him to make a house call. With a sigh he dropped his fork into the congealed gravy and went to open the door.

Meili stood, her jet black hair speckled with fat snowflakes, staring at him mutely with wide, tear-streaked eyes. He barely knew what to think, what to say. After everything they had said to each other, after everything he had done, he thought he had lost her forever. “Meili,” his voice sounded small and breathless, “you came…”

The fist came from behind her and caught him full in the face. His world went black and he fell backwards into an abyss that had no bottom.

***{}***

Fan had to work hard not to grin from ear to ear as he pulled the burlap-covered handcart through the open cannery doors. Workers looked up nervously as startled the Tong guards, young arrogant men left behind as the older gang members prepared for evening’s attack on the Dragon Lady, sprang to attention and ran to grab him, He shrugged them off angrily “Get your hands off me,” he hissed. To a man they backed away half a step, unsure of what to do – being told to take down Fan was one thing, actually taking down one of the most dangerous soldiers in the Tong was another. Fan sniffed haughtily, smoothing his clothes for effect, “It would be wise for you all to treat me with more respect that that,” he said to them.

One spat on the floor at his feet, “Huh, why? The boss has put the word out on you Fan. He has a message waiting for you, I hear,” a ripple of laughter ran through the men.

Fan stared back at the youth who had dared speak to him is such a manner, committing his face to memory; if his plan went well he’d need someone to make an example of to re-establish his authority and he would do nicely. “I think the boss will change his mind once he sees what I’ve brought him,” Fan said calmly. All eyes turned to the cart as, with a cruel smile, Fan pulled back the burlap to reveal a terrified Chinese woman laying bound and gagged next to an unconscious white man, “Tell the boss I’ve brought him a gift…”

To be continued…
All the “Gang War” posts can be read on my blog here and over on the Steelhead Ning here.

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Pharos Investigations (UK): Black Sheep – Episode 1

A lifetime ago (2000 to 2003, three years before I came across & joined Second Life in November 2006) I started a Play By Email (or PBeM) Call of Cthulhu game set in Manchester in 1930. It was, even if I do say so myself, quite successful and was followed by a small number of seriously talented CoC writers. Alas a new job and a bout of ill health in 2003 saw the game drift into an eternal slumber about half way through its run (that’s right, this baby would have taken about 6 years to play out). My last act was to wrap up each turn into a PDF for archiving and these file have been with me ever since. I’ve been meaning to publish them here for a while but never really found the time – well that’s about to change.

Ladies and gentlemumps, I humbly present to you (typos and all, I’m not re-editing 20plus PDFs for anyone!) all 21 turns of “Black Sheep”, a Pharos Investigations (UK) Call of Cthulhu tale as it was played over on the old Yahoo Groups. The PDFs contain the post I sent out to the players along with their (slightly) edited replies and then any further communications & posts in that turn. The writing varies greatly, some players were more experienced than others, some players left and new ones took over their characters, I even ejected one player (actually, two!) if I recall – what I’m trying to say is don’t expect to read a novel here, it’s really just series of tarted up emails and therefore can feel a little disjointed at times. Still, I had a blast playing and I think you’ll enjoy reading

You can read Black Sheep – Turn 1 here. In turn 1 the investigators meet for the first time and are almost immediately plunged into danger – I did this deliberately to both start the tale off with an exciting bang and enable me to judge the quality of the players who’d signed up.

I’ll post the rest of the turns over the next few weeks – you can find them using the category search terms “Pharos Investigations” or “Black Sheep” or by visiting the page I’ve set up here.

 

Roleplayers of Rank – a post in which I swear. A lot. Seriously.

I’ve never fancied roleplaying in a military or police structure, at least not an authentic sounding one where players take on ranks. Partly it’s my inherent dislike of being told what to do, partly it’s my lack of interest in replicating the intricate structures of organisations I have little (or less) interest in in real life, but mostly it’s because roleplayers seeking rank are almost always insecure, egotistial, elitist, piss-stains of the lowest order and I don’t find being around them to be conducive to my desire to be happy.

Before you get me wrong, I am *NOT* taking a shot at military/police/organisational RP of any era or genre, or the people who take part. Honestly I am not. Many a good WW2 Unit, Roman Legion or Star Fleet Corps exits in SL and I know at least one casual roleplayer in SL who plays as a Navy officer and she is, frankly, lovely. I’m emphatically, totally and definitely NOT talking about these.

No, I’m talking about the type of Jonny Big Bollocks who votes himself the top of the, let’s call it, Castle Defence League or Metropolitan Constabulary and sets about strutting around like said Big Bollocks were something all and sundry should get down and pay homage to. These are the actions of a fool. An idiot. An insecure child. A cock.

To them RP is merely a way of encircling themselves with liggers and dolts who constantly feed their voracious and vacuous egos. On top of that they tend to be shockingly dull folks seemingly incapable of friendly chat & banter and instead cursed by the need to be constantly aloof and superior, an act that does not endear them to me and instead fills my mind with the desire to repeatedly punch them square in their wizened, redundant love-pump until their either their pelvis shatters or my fist explodes.

Why so angry Mr Burro? Why so shouty about these (soon-to-be) dickless wonders? Well, I’m glad you asked. It is because it does me good to be shouty. It makes me feel better. I don’t cope well with bottling things up and of late I’ve been doing just that. Not any more. I’ve popped my own cork, so to speak…

You see, when it comes to play I like collaboration. I want collaboration. I desire it as a randy Mr fox desires a pretty lady fox flashing her come-to-bed-eys and flicking her lovely brush at him. I <3 collaboration. I believe in friendly, open, enthusiastic roleplay. I want to bring folks in to my stories (and visa versa). I want them to run with ideas other than mine. I want the whole to be far, far greater than the whole. I, dear reader, want people to play together and have fun and not complete.

And yet I find myself surrounded and bested by small minded, jealous, parochial, cliquey cunts who need to create ranks in order to feel they have respect when, in fact, they have confused respect with resentment (not an easy mistake to make given their default feeling to any ideas not their own is resentment, but they make it all the same).

So fine. Great. Be the big old General. Pin the shiny badge on your chest. Just as long as you get to dictate just who can play (and, more importantly I suspect, who can’t) with who and where and when, I’m sure you’ll be happy. Except you won’t. It will end the same way these things always do, but you are just too fucking dense to understand that, aren’t you. When it all turns in on itself, when all the resentment (sorry, respect) and bitterness and back-biting that you surround yourself with brings it all crashing down, you’ll down what you always do and will slink away to find somewhere else to infect like the virus you are. There’s always another sim, another group, another community you can insinuate yourself into and poison.

Stay and fight Burro Boy, I hear a lone voice cry. Stay and see your vision through! No, I answer back. Fuck it. Fuck them. Fuck the horse they rode in on. I’m not a fighter, I’m a lover. Not a lover of virtual lady gazelles you understand, but rather a lover of fun and open creativity and a million concepts Captain Dipshit and his merry band of uniform wearing, rank-wanking numbnut shitsacks will never be able to understand. Fuck 'em all in the eye.

Besides, they’re not the only ones who can move on.