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WEB FED NEWS YEARBOOKS Earthdate October 2001 |
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WEB FED NEWS YEARBOOKS Earthdate October 2001 |
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INSIDE SCOOP |
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There are some phrases that people immediately associate with bad events. "I need help." "I broke (fill in the blank)." "Is that bone supposed to be sticking out like that?" These are easily identifiable as prefacing a problem that could be anywhere from moderate to major. But there's a phrase that, because of its duality, you have to pay attention to; in one context, it's a simple question, in another, it means you're going to be out quite a bit of cash. I heard this phrase recently as I sat on my planet, trying to figure out why my exchange was making like a proverbial wingless airplane. A friend walked in and, before even saying hi, hit me with that phrase. "Do you remember your ship?" Yes, in fact, I did. She had to have known that. I'd put quite a lot of time into it and it was a nice ship. Was. Folks, I'd like to ask a favor of each of you, in the hopes that we can stave off future problems like mine: When you're landing your ship, LOOK DOWN BEFORE YOU SET DOWN. Why? Because she didn't, her ship was fully loaded with cargo, and it flattened mine. Like a pancake. People, this is a symptom of a larger problem. That problem being that some people are as DENSE AS LEAD! Er, no. Sorry. I've been kind of on edge lately. Frankly, I think this whole ship-flattening thing is just another in a long line of catastrophes. But it does just go to illustrate how seemingly innocuous phrases can end up costing you a lot of money. Another good example is "floor may be slippery." If I'd had that particular warning last week, I wouldn't be on crutches right now. I'm considering suing the owners of the Earth office block. Of course, these things happen. Life is full of little surprises, some of which are setbacks. But I can offer you a bit of warning along the lines we've discussed here, a bit of advice you may have already ran headlong into. There is a word - not a phrase - but a single word that can do more damage than all the bad phrases together. It usually comes from your mechanic. "Estimate."
IT'S A
BAD BAD BAD BAD TUESDAY! Tuesday night: Fox shows a few comedy shows, I sit back and laugh while reading through email and homework. Then Federation Survivor starts. I sit on Evilvania talking with Evileric and suddenly Essencex screams over my comm. unit, "Come to my LP!" Knowing it hadn't been her best week and being the kind, always-there-for-people w00kie I am, I hopped in my ship, orbited, jumped for Hauge… I said, "Jump for Hauge." Maybe I'm not typing it correctly: JUMP HAUGE. Okay, so maybe you didn't hear me correctly. Fine, I'll just display the planet! >DISPLAY HAUGE What the living monkey? Hauge was there just a few minutes ago! >SPYNET REPORT RASAL This isn't good. >DI MUSK Okay, even worse! >DISPLAY PROVIDENCE >JUMP SOL And then I ended up on Essencex's LP. I cursed in disbelief and then calmed myself to handle the situation. Then asked myself, What's the handle? He's DDed! So after a few minutes of deciding where to run, a ship landed. A man dressed in a suit came up to me and snatched my Hauge Military Uniform off of me! "Hey!" I shouted. "Sorry, bud – the account holder is dead," he replied as his airlock closed. Darned repossession men! So now I stand there in my bright green Fruit of the Looms shivering in the cold breeze on Utopia. Things got worse: Unemployment contacted me and wanted to know why I wasn't looking for work. I realized that Hauge was gone and I was no longer the Ducal Annoyance. Who am I to annoy? I tried annoying Snowstar, but she couldn't TB me back. Where are you when I need you?! So now I leave: W00kie looking for work. Tall, charming, intelligent and makes a good Ducal Annoyance. Will work for food.
SIGNS
OF THE FED APOCALYPSE Ever worry that when the Fed Apocalypse comes, you won’t even notice? Here are a few warning signs to make sure you are aware.
And… the number one sign of the Fed Apocalypse…
NEW
INSULT WANTED I've come to a startling realization since my triumphant return from capture. There's no variation in the insults used against me. That's right, I've been hearing the same three insults in slightly different forms for years upon years on end. Day in and day out, same thing. It's starting to bug me. You may say, "But I come up with a new insult every time I futilely attempt to put you down!" Au contraire, you do not. All your insults can be stripped down to one of three, which I will share with you. 1) "I'm older than you." - This insult was perfected by one of Fed's Comeback Kings several years back. Apparently, according to this insult, regardless of my views, my vocabulary, or my intelligence, the simple fact that I'm younger makes me inferior. Not only is this irritating (until it got old and stale), it's a bit out of date. When I was, say, 14, it had basis, but now I get people younger than me using it against me. It has to go. 2) "Your friends are staff." - First gripe, that's not an insult, that's a fact. I mean, yeah, my friends are staff. Your friends are your alts. Second gripe, this was used before my friends were staff. Shockingly, this is the most often used of the three. 3) "Why don't you disappear?" - Why don't you move on from grade school? I mean really, this is the definition of tired and old. And the worst part, people use it over and over and over. And over. It gets to the point you want to rip your hair out. Or better yet, rip out the hair of the person insulting. So do you see why I need a new insult? It's awful, it really is. That's why I'm offering a reward for a new insult. What could it be, you may ask? Fame? Fortune? Pie? No, even better. You get to use your insult on me whenever and wherever you want, as long as you don't get excessive, without any harsh reply from me. Yes, when you use your winning insult on me, I'll take it out on someone random and unrelated. Send your new insults to insultdanny@yellowhat.org, I'll publish the favorites, and announce the winner. Unless nobody sends anything in, then I'll just insult you. I'm older than all of you and your friends are staff, why don't you disappear?
I thought I might try to explain my absence from Fed last week, but figured I’d only get in more trouble from Hazed if I told you how she tripped over the leash I was dragging and smashed her comely knees so they resembled a Marsrat burger. I thought she wouldn’t like it if I told you how she uttered explicatives that made the miner on Venus, stuck deep in the far reaches of the excavations, blush when her ear-splitting yells echoed over Sol. I didn’t think she’d approve of me passing along the beating, muzzling, and berating the demi-goddess heaped on poor yours truly for something that, of course, was Not My Fault. I doubted that letting you know I had spent the last week locked in the storage room would gain her favor. So I won’t tell you all that and I’ll get straight to this week’s planet review!
Sometimes, when you sit down and reflect, you feel as though you don't quite fit in where you are. It happens to most of us at one time or another, usually when we're feeling stressed. But for whatever reason, for that time, you don't feel like you belong where you are, geographically or emotionally. I, myself, have been having a particularly rough time as of late. I get that feeling often. And it is fully possible I really don't belong here. But, for now, here is the only place I can be. I'm not saying everything's wrong here - some things, and more importantly, some people, are very right - but at times I get the feeling that I'm a puzzle piece that has been hammered rather than fit into place. (I know exactly what that's like because that's my usual method of finishing jigsaw puzzles. It doesn't yield the most readily-identifiable picture, but definitely some interesting ones.) Which brings me to the focus of this week's column. I don't know how many of us actually stop to appreciate it, but our little slice of the world - Fed - is quite a magnificent thing sometimes. In Fed, we are... more frequently than not... isolated from petty stresses and differences. Sure, we have our moments; we're only human. But overall, Fed provides us a place to be... and moreover, a place to be the people we want to be. Sure, sometimes that person is a full-bore lunatic that dances on bars with various members of the dromedary family to the Smurfs theme, but it's part of that diversity that makes Fed interesting. Before you ask, no, I don't have photos of the aforementioned event. But the point here is that even if you feel totally out of place everywhere else, you can still, if even for a little while, find a sort of solace in Fed. You can connect with new friends, find companionship, and relax, all in our own little universe. Just try to remember that most other people are just trying to get away from it all, too, so be neighborly. And on that note, I think I'll go have a drink with my friends. Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow is a workday.
LOOKING Looking for work is never easy. I find myself browsing through the boards morning after morning and finding nothing. So I look through newspapers: Wanted: Janitor. Pays 2 Imperial Groats an hour. Must be skilled in cesspool diving. I don’t look good in a wet suit. Wanted: Maid. Pays 2,000 groats a week. Uniform provided: black, knee length dress. No way on earth. Want to make money fast? We need people like you! All you have to do is load our software on your computer and we’ll give you… When they say, ‘We need people like you!’ they’re talking about idiots. The Ladies’ Club. We’re looking for handsome men with minimal body hair… Scratch that… So I guess this will leave me to employ myself for someone. I could start harassing Juel, my new duchess, giving myself the job of her Ducal Annoyance. I could become the Demi-Goddess’ Annoyance… wait, I already harass Hazed enough. I seriously need a job. Life isn’t the same without having someone to annoy! W00kie looking for work. Tall, charming, intelligent and makes a good Ducal Annoyance. Will work for food. Questions? Comments? Death threats? Email them to: Chewbacon_and_famous@hotmail.com.
EYES
WIDE OPEN For this week's article, I'm incorporating a bit of real life. Have you ever left Fed for a long time and returned, only to notice things you never noticed before in the game? Last year, I believe I took a two week break or so from Fed while on vacation. When I came back, I was so eager to return that I was paying more attention to EVERYTHING in the game. Only then did I notice the fountain in Chez D's. Likewise, after being away from my home for two months, I have returned to notice things I haven't noticed during the ten years I have lived here. The kitchen smells distinctly like coffee. My bedroom smells like flowers. My sister's room smells like a crisp morning. The color of my kitchen is _very_ bright. Ever notice new things in Fed after leaving for a while? Drop me a line to talk about it. Jelly@columnist.com.
DANNY
RIGHT AGAIN Last week, since none of you remember, I told you that you're all incapable of coming up with a good insult. I even offered an amazing grand prize for anyone who could send me a good new insult. Well, apparently I was right. You can't. Not many of you have sent anything in, and by not many I mean two. Two! So I've decided to not only extend the insult deadline so your mental turbines can have time to spin to full power, but give you some helpful hints. Shockingly there are many web sites dedicated to insults. (For those of you who have trouble with these things, that was sarcasm.) Here are some of the best: http://userpages.umbc.edu/~dni1/humor/lists/insults.shtml - This is one of the best. Don't try to send one of these in to me, I'll recognize it, but this should get you fired up. Some good hostility in this code. http://www.insultsonline.com/index.htm - This isn't quite as good, but it's decent. Comes up with a good one occasionally. http://www.kitenet.net/insults/ - For a classic flair, here's a site for custom Shakespearean insults. So there, three sites. Read those, enjoy them, and come up with your own. The address is insultdanny@yellowhat.org, and I'll be waiting. Unless you can't, in which case, I must be older than you all.
When Icedrake snatched me up from the backyard of the mansion, replaced me with the German Shepherd, and turned me into the official reviewer of planets, I was overjoyed at the thought of finally leaving Sol and exploring the rest of the galaxy. It didn’t work that way, though. I was no longer Savage Alsatian the mobile, I was now Savage Alsatian the Groundhog, and unable to leave Sol. Icedrake had long since flown off on his leather wings and left me in the care of her demi-goddessness, Hazed. Since we were both now residents of channel one, I immediately shot off a whining transmission regarding my status as a subterranean-dwelling grub-eating newbie. >xt I’m a groundhog, Hazed! I thought I was supposed to be a Senator! Your comm unit relays a message from Hazed, "tanstaafl" >xt Eh? Your comm unit relays a message from Hazed, "You have to get up the ranks a bit before I can do my magic on you, you ungrateful cur." >xt How do I do that? Your comm unit whaps you on the snout with a message from Hazed, "RTFM" >xt Eh? Your comm unit whaps you on the snout with a message from Hazed, "Read the manual, I have things to do" I think the manual was that thing I anxiously chewed to shreds when I found out I was a Groundhog. Fortunately a Duchess came to my rescue and helped me learn how to fetch sticks and haul. Everything went okay until I smashed my muzzle into some messenger fellow that shimmered right in front of my path and told me I had to sniff out something called the Grand Master. I wasn’t very happy at having to seek yet another master who probably wielded a newspaper cudgel. Hazed was starting to look like more than I could whine around as it was. By this time my savior Duchess had decided I was promoting far to slow to ever be a prospect for recruitment, and I was left clueless concerning what to do next. >tune 9 >xt Can someone tell me how to find the GM? Your comm unit relays a message from Namewithheld, "RTFM!" RTFM must be code for I don’t know either. Since I wasn’t exactly a bloodhound then sniffing out people would probably require visiting a lot of planets and a lot of locations. Being the lazy hound I am I sold my ship (with the help of Woodsprings Ship Auctions) so I could take the taxi services and started hunting. I hunted for days. And days. And days. I’d pick up trace scents on a few landing pads, but the GM was nowhere to be found. It was time to ask for help again. >tune 9 >xt Can someone tell me about this GM person? I can’t find him. Your comm unit relays a message from Namewithheld, "RTFM" >tune 1 >xt Can someone tell me about this GM person? I can’t find him. Your comm unit relays a message from Friendlynavigator, "Did you look in your ship?" >tune 9 >xt Can someone tell me where I can find the Woodsprings Ship Auction location? Your comm unit relays a message from Namewithheld, "RTFM" I never did find the location or the GM. For weeks there were rumors of new commanders buying the refurbished ship specials and finding they came with an unusual looking pilot. Her demi-goddessness got tired of me digging holes on Earth and brushing up next to her smelling like the septic system off the loos, and she whapped me on the head with the title Dishonorable Senator so I could get to work on the review queue. If you find someone in your new ship every once in a while, tell him I’m not looking anymore, will you?
THOSE
WERE THE DAZE At with any pursuit, people tend to wistfully reminisce about "the good old days." People do this in Fed frequently. More so than politicians, actually, which is impressive: every other thing you hear from politicians and political action groups is about how we need to return to this or that. On some level, I can agree with the traditionalist view of Fed: a bustling, occasionally overloaded Fed with hundreds of people online at any given moment, a roaring social system, and the endless headaches of trying to find puzzle pieces someone has been sitting on for two days - although they don't usually emphasize that last bit. To a certain degree, I do sort of miss that. It was fun to be able to meet ten different people in less than an hour, it was nice to see more than four people below planet-owning rank who weren't alts, and it was always heart-warming to see the Cantina full of people, guaranteeing scroll bad enough to kill. The end result was that if you stood in one place and kept your comms tuned to channel nine, you'd be scrolled into a daze in less than a minute. Then again, I must also admit that I enjoy Fed as it is now. Sure, it's not quite as stimulating, and many characters are related to others in some way or another (ie alts), but there is a certain social aspect that didn't occur in the old days of Federation. Friendships seem to be less transient and closer. People, on the whole, seem to be more tight-knit than they were before, turning Fed into a neighborhood of sorts. Sure, not all the neighbors get along, but that happens no matter where you are. The big difference between neighborhood disputes in Fed and in the real world is that in the real world, people are less likely to use mag-guns to resolve the argument. Some people would say that violence is not the proper way to solve a problem, but there is another side to that coin. You can sell admission to our arguments.
NEED
MORE! While reading the Interstellar Link (a small paper published and delivered mainly to planets with numeric characters in their names), I skimmed through the personal ads and list some of them that might appeal to some of you (although I'm not speculating how!). Why do I bring this up? Because we need more love in Fed (Maaaan!). There is too much fighting around – can’t we all just get along? Here’s a few:
None of them left their phone numbers. Good thing we have SpyNet!
TOP
TEN REASONS YOU NEED TO LOG BACK INTO FED
AN
OPEN LETTER TO JELLY Dear Jelly, I read your article in last week's Fed Chronicle (which I never miss because it's the best publication in the Galaxy (Is that enough flattery to ensure my letter gets printed?) (Yes - ED.)). You said:
Come on. That fountain. It's big. It sprays pink water everywhere. It makes a splishy-splashy sound. It was even married to Wpoco at one time. So how come you didn't notice it until after you'd been away? I know the normal state of all patrons in CDs is a state of intoxication, ranging from mild to extreme, which may affect the perceptions, so I could understand if you'd never noticed the exact pattern on the curtains, or the colour of the pianist's cumberbund, but to fail to notice what is the centrepiece of the room shows a shocking lack of observation. There's only one explanation I can think of to account for your failure to observe such a huge piece of ornamentation. You must have problems with your eye-sight. So would you like me to organise a new fund-raising campaign, to collect money to get you some new glasses?
Well, the results of the Insult Danny contest have been tallied, and the winner is in. Who is that winner? You'll have to read the article to find out. God bless marketing. The insults were wide-ranging and varied, from the simple "The last time I saw a face like yours, I gave it a banana." to the more complex "But I won't [insult you], 'cause I'm not gonna waste my time on you." Some of the better ones came in lists, such as:
Also suggested by a certain demi-goddess who shall remain nameless was the addition of curses, such as the following:
But none of those won. Who won? It was none other than Jelly who won with her entry, which embodied the essence of a good insult. It's harsh, it's surreal, and it even makes reference to a cliche:
So congrats to Jelly, who gets the grand prize. She can use that insult against me at any time, and I have to take it. Use your prize well, Jelly, use it well. *This curse contributed by Bill Shakespeare.
ALSATIAN THE TRIGGER-HAPPY HOUND Your comm unit relays a message
from Triggergod, "sweet...my triggers rules." When I stumbled over this conversation Triggergod was a Commander who had wandered away from the safe haven of channel one and decided to take on the big dogs of channel nine. Sometimes they do that - returning players or alts wanting to listen in to see if the character they just DDed is missed, newsdroids late with their editions attempting to escape staff notice, or newbies who just don't quite know what they're getting into. The dismount comment had me a little puzzled, so I turned my attention to Triggergod to see what was going on. >spynet report Triggergod >teleport sol 385 >ex triggergod >say WOOFWOOFWOOFWOOFWOOF! >tb Alphaduke Say, can you
peek at Triggergod and see what's going on? Your comm unit signals a tight beam message from Alphaduke, "He's still hauling jobs. Or trying to, his macro is still triggering, but he can't leave the hospital room!" act sniffs at Triggergod. act detects the scent of the recently starved to death. act raises his leg for a moment. "Don't forget to reinsure!", he says as he trots off. Now that's the problem with Fed nowadays, a shortage of reliable macro programs. We should be able to type in a single kill orc command, walk away from the computer for a day or two, and return a duke or duchess – or even a dishonorable senator! – without having to worry about silly inconveniences like eating or making alliances or… what the heck, I bet I could get a macro written that would take care of even that! >teleport sol 303 >say WOOF! Hey guys, anyone still working around here? >act shuffles through the straw, pushing at a few stacks of odorous used pizza boxes, and find the programmers still there. They are staring slack-jawed at the snow crash on their screens from the 4,182th crash of the Genie Fed system. >ex programmer His long hair is now streaked with gray, granny glasses replaced by bifocals, and over three decades of wearing sandals have left his feet a little grimy. Between that and the pizza boxes, you know where the odor comes from. Programmer looks up from his screen and rubs his red-rimmed eyes. Programmer says, "Hey Al. I was just trying to trace this one little system bug here. Looks like when the planet orbits line up and the Xerxes hits sector 94…" >say Yeah, yeah, you told me about that one when we moved to AOL. Listen, I've got a new problem. A little program I'd like you to develop for me. >act whispers in Programmer's ear, "Development. Not sustaining. Can we talk?" Programmer got interested enough in the word development to take a serious look at my project. He gave me an estimate for completing the specifications (1/2 day) and, using that proven scientific method, I doubled it and went to the next time unit. I left them a generous supply of Snicker's bars to fuel their efforts and promised to return in a week for the results. In the next edition of the Chronicle I'll be ready to unveil Alsatian's Fed SuperMacro – GroundHog to Senator, in one easy kill orc command!
This is the time of year that always drives me into conniptions. No, not election season, but that is a good guess. However, this is far more perplexing, irritating, and downright childish. Yes, it's time to play with the clocks again. Why does this bother me? Because I can never keep it straight as to which direction we're supposed to be going. Yes, yes, I remember that little mnemonic "spring forward, fall back" but I'm a person who is known to fall on his face more often than his back, as evidenced by my long string of article rejections before miraculously being accepted at the Chronicle. Worse, I have to figure out how to reset my watch again. Nothing is more insulting than that. I'm a programmer by trade. I can get computers to deal poker and defend the world from annihilation by those trillions of missiles that attack my cities from nowhere, but I cannot for the life of me remember the sequence of buttons that lets me roll the hour back. Sure, I figure it out... after I've erased the thing's memory. Thankfully we don't have to deal with this nonsense in Fed. Our wrist computers (the things that go BEEP when the alarm runs out or when immersed in kerosene - don't ask) are evidently hooked up to some sort of satellite time-keeping system, so we never personally have to play with the clocks. In fact, I couldn't swear before a jury that we play with the clocks at all. That makes me happy. Frankly, I'm not sure I could trust most Fedizens to play with the clocks and give us the proper time. Most of us are known to consume literally gallons of ale and then fly starships at thousands of times the speed of light. Safe? No. Smart? No. Entertaining? Well, yes, but that's not the issue. The issue is that we don't really want our clocks to be reset to 37:15am, which is as likely a result as any other if we asked a normal Fedizen to go play with the clocks. I'm going to go root around my
filing cabinet for my watch manual so I can hopefully
turn the hour back properly this time. I close my article
this week with a kind wish. Good luck playing with the clocks, folks. As always, if there's anything you'd like to tell me, feel free to e-mail me at Horatio_TheWriter@excite.com! I'd like to thank those of you who wrote in recently! I sincerely appreciate your comments, and I'm working on responding to you as soon as I can.
MISCHIEF
OF HALLOWEEN Ghouls and goblins are popping up and running around DataSpace in search of mischief and candy. Trick or Treat: give me or get it. Trust me, you probably don't want to 'get it'. I've never had my ship egged or planet wrapped in toilet paper (don't get any ideas), but there's been several times where I couldn't resist doing it to someone else. This ended quickly after getting blown out of the sky by people. That was a long time ago, before I even had the urge to make Trader. Now I have my own planet where I make the laws and egg whoever I want and whenever I want; gotta love Easter. When the first Trick or Treaters hit the streets of Providence, I usually hide in the shadows of my home and bombard them with their treats. "Trick this!" and I fire away with the Candy Launcher 5000 – launching over a hundred rounds of candy a second at the unsuspecting little ones. Some people said some eyes were poked out by lollipops; bubble gum and candy corn nearly killed silicon-base skinned Providencians. This wasn't true! Once concerned parents begin investigating my home and sticking their noses into everything like wild dogs, I shimmer to the LP and start welding berthed ships' landing legs to the metal pad. I soon figured out that costs a load of groats for maintenance, so I had to scratch that off of my list for this year. Then I stop by the local residential parties and wish them well as their Overlord, making sure to heavily spike the punch and then vanish. Next comes one of my favorite phases of mischief for the night: Eggs! I load up the security bots' mini guns with large eggs and send them around the streets set to 'Riot Control'. This leads to instant eradication of all the clean people strolling around the streets. Finally comes the old-fashioned toilet papering! Bots are loaded, calibrated and sent to the nearest house where they will wrap it tightly with white, quilted (for extra comfort!) bathroom tissue. The heavier bots are equipped with rocket launchers which make excellent tools for lodging rolls in trees. Usually by this time of the night, my mischief is heard of and I'm chased off the planet for about a week. Talk of barricading the landing pad is already in the air. Can they do this to their overlord?
HOW TO
MAKE FRIENDS AND INCREASE YOUR POPULARITY Yeah yeah, I know what you're thinking. What does Danny know about being popular, let alone making friends? More than you, that's for sure. Not by making friends, but by being one of the most hated people in DataSpace. That's right, I'm so hated, the obvious route to popularity is to do the exact opposite of what I do. So here goes, some easy steps on how to be the opposite of me.
Follow these steps, and next thing you know, you'll be walking around with a giant mass of friends!
THE
TWELVE DAYS OF WOLFYN'S MARRIAGE 212113:640 - Wolfyn: ~~On the first day of wedded bliss my true love gave to me... a hospital gown from the Cup of Fearlessness!~~ (((Sirglec))) 212114:972 - Wolfyn: ~~On the second day of wedded bliss my true love gave to me... His and Hers mopeds, and a whipping in the Cup of Fearlessness!~~ 212115:464 - Wolfyn: ~~On the third day of wedded bliss my true love gave to me... Three police dog puppies, His and Hers matching mopeds, and a whipping in the Cup of Fearlessness!~~ 212116:507 - Wolfyn: ~~On the fourth day of wedded bliss my true love gave to me... Four rawhide tassels, three police dog puppies, two galactic mopeds, and a whipping in the Cup of Fearlessness!~~ ((Sirglec)) 212117:451 - Wolfyn: ~~On the fifth day of wedded bliss my true love sent to me..~~Five Dukes for Bridesmaids! (And they were sooo cute!)~~ Four rawhide tassels, three police dog pups, two galactic mopeds, and a whipping in the Cup of Fearlessness!~~ 212118:564 - Wolfyn: ~~On the sixth day of wedded bliss my true love sent to me..six bags of laundry :(, ~Five Dukes for Bridesmaids~ four rawhide tassels, three police dog pups, two galactic mopeds, and a whipping in the Cup of Fearlessness!~~ (((Sirglec))) 212119:643 - Wolfyn: ~On the 7th day of wedded bliss my true love sent to me.. Seven X-rated spylogs (blushes), six bags of laundry, ~~Five Dukes for Bridesmaids!~~ four chew tassles, three police dog pups, two galactic mopeds, and he killed me in the Cup of Fearlessness~ 212120:625 - Wolfyn: ~On the 8th day of wedded bliss my true love gave to me - A black lace 8-cup size DDD Wonderbra! 7 XX-spylogs, 6 bags of laundry, ~5 Dukes as Maids~ 4 rawhide tassels, 3 policedog pups, 2 galactic mopeds, and he killed me in the Cup of Fearlessness!~ 212121:527 - Wolfyn: ~On the 9th
day of wedded bliss my true love gave to me - 9 bays of
lub-oils (it's been a long week), 8-cup Wonderbra, 7
XX-spylogs, 6 bags laundry ~Five Dukes as Maids~ 4
rawhides, 3 pups, couple mopeds, and killed me in the Cup
of Fearlessness!~ 212122:605 - Wolfyn: ~On the 10th day of wedded bliss my true love gave to me 10 ceiling mirrors (lookie there!), 9 bays o'lubs, 8-cup Wonderbra, 7 XX-spylogs, 6 bags laundry ~Five Maiden Dukes~ 4 rawhides, 3 pups, couple mopeds, and killed me in the Cup of Fearlessness!~ 212123:528 - Wolfyn: ~On the 11th day of wedded bliss my true love gave to me 11 sets of earplugs (he snores), 10 ceiling mirrors, 9 bays lubs, 8-cup bra, 7 XX-spylogs, 6 bags laundry ~Five Duke Maids~ 4 chewtoys, 3 pups, 2 mopeds, and killed me in the Cup of Fearlessness!~ 212124:427 - Wolfyn: ~On the 12th day of wedded bliss my true love gave to me... A rest. He went to the football game (thank heavens, maybe it will run extra innings), I had to clean the bed from where the mirrors fell down, he's snored every night, and I'm taking a nap! Alone! ((Sirglec))
Last week, I received a letter from a concerned reader, worried about my short-sightedness in not noticing the fountain in Chez Diesel. Here's my reply. Dear Concerned, I wish to point out to you that Chez D’s is an extremely busy, interesting, and exciting place. At any given time, something is going on. Therefore, it makes it hard to simply sit and stare at scenery. Anything from a space traveler retelling his past adventures to the oh-so-cute pianist catches my attention. Who could pay attention to a silly fountain when there are celebrities about? And… a four armed, oh so cute, pianist! A fountain seems rather trivial now, doesn’t it?
ALSATIAN'S NEW ALL-INCLUSIVE KILL ORC STYLE MACRO With the end of daylight savings time quickly approaching, the programmers at Pegasus Software Services scrambled about frantically trying to reset all the clocks in every spaceship in DataSpace. Due to the sudden load of work they weren’t able to completely finish coding my GroundHog to Duke super-macro (the new projected date is around Christmas), but we did get the specifications drawn up for the program. |
|
Begin.
IF rank = GroundHog THEN
IF new_player THEN
Stumble between meeting place and landing pad
Talk to wall when navigator sends tight beam
Kill tourist
Follow navigator to bribe official and get ship
IF returning_player THEN
Tune 9 and ask if anyone remembers you
Go to cantina and brag about playing Fed 8 years ago on AOL
Beg for groats, give up, get ship
IF alt_player THEN
Stumble between meeting place and landing pad
trying to look like newbie
Use no capitals trying to look like newbie
Get tired of acting like newbie and get shiP
IF rank = Commander
IF new_player THEN
Accept job originating on any planet you are not
presently on
Haul in Sol without ever using goto command
IF returning_player THEN
Tune 9 and continue to ask if anyone remembers you
Beg for groats, give up, haul Sol jobs
IF alt_player THEN
Haul a few jobs without goto command
Give up, log in Explorer alt and haul contract
jobs in Sol
IF rank = Captain
IF new_player THEN
Spend hours trying to accept macro-posted jobs
Give up, continue hauling in Sol
IF returning_player THEN
Tune 9 and continue asking if anyone remembers you
Beg for groats and get a sympathy handout
Purchase bigger ship
Finish all hauling in Sol
IF alt_player THEN
Don’t even ask, just finish hauling requirements
with Explorer alt
IF rank = Adventurer
IF new_player THEN
Spend a week looking for the GM, searching only
20 minutes/logon
IF returning_player THEN
Use old GM-finding macro, DD’ing and starting
over at least once
IF alt_player THEN
Use multiple log-ins and log-outs (in 1 hour
increments) until he comes to you
IF rank = Trader
All ranks: stand still while people load you with groats
IF rank = Merchant
IF new_player THEN
Hang around in Cantina hoping to make contact
with PO’s
Discover cyber-sex
IF returning_player THEN
Tune 9 and beg for all arts facs
Complain about markups on new facs
IF alt_player THEN
Promote Explorer alt to PO and sell yourself 12
arts facs
IF rank = Journeyperson THEN
IF new_player THEN
Sleep through factory owning
More cyber-sex
IF returning_player THEN
Sleep through factory owning
Cyber-sex
IF alt_player THEN
Attempt to lure spouse of your main character
into cyber-sex
IF rank = Guild Master THEN
IF new_player THEN
Create alt to haul tonnage
IF returning_player THEN
Complain about lack of lower ranks to haul
Create alt to haul tonnage
IF alt_player THEN
Create alt to haul tonnage
IF rank = Explorer THEN
IF new_player THEN
Agonize for weeks over planet name and design
IF returning_player THEN
Recreate old planet in Genesis using cut and
paste method
IF alt_player THEN
Blink, you’re through this step
IF rank = Squire THEN
IF new_player THEN
Go bankrupt until head of duchy loads you with groats
IF returning_player THEN
Demand groats from head of duchy
IF alt_player THEN
Blink, you’re through this step
IF rank = Thane THEN
See Squire
IF rank = Industrialist THEN
IF new_player THEN
Buy first spybeam
IF returning_player THEN
Buy first spyscreen
IF alt_player THEN
Blink, you’re through this step
IF rank = Technocrat
Blink, you’re through this step
IF rank = Baron(ess)
IF new_player THEN
Resign yourself to being a baron(ess) forever
when you find out the cost of Mattrans
IF returning_player THEN
Start new alt to supply materials for baron builds
DD at least once with your transporter
IF alt_player THEN
Hit on spouse of main character again
Hit on spouse of everyone else’s character
IF rank = Duke
IF new_player THEN
Use spybeam
IF returning_player THEN
Use spybeam
Create another alt so you’ll have planets in your duchy
IF alt_player THEN
What do you need two characters of this rank for?
Anyway, use spybeam, especially on spouse of main
character
Don’t remember about spyscreens, we love Dukes
and Duchesses like this
End.