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WEB FED NEWS YEARBOOKS Earthdate October 2002 |
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WEB FED NEWS YEARBOOKS Earthdate October 2002 |
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INSIDE SCOOP |
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DEATH TO RADIO ON PROVIDENCE A while back, Providence acquired itself a vintage ancient-earth radio station. There was much excitement and everyone had to have a stereo to listen to the first broadcast. The electronics shops made a bundle building the transistors to pick up the frequency that hasn't been used in years and the radio station itself made enough money on advertisers (it was almost like advertisements for the Super Bowl) to stay on the air for years. Things were cute and fun for a while, until the population influenced the genre of music they preferred to hear: pop. A few days later, they hardly even played music. The disc jockeys talked making stupid one-line jokes and flirting with girls who called wanting to hear the oldie "The Barbie Song" over and over. It was driving me insane and I had even destroyed my radio at this point, but people insisted on driving their cars around with power-wasting sound systems that made parts vibrate off of them and others would play them on the MP3-playing jukebox in my bar. Political advisors told me to form an organization to regulate the use of radio broadcasting. It was done. Now there were legal restrictions on how often a song could be played. But then the people who made these songs got smarter. They started releasing albums with songs that sounded remarkably the same! I spoke with my cousin Chewchicken about the matter. "We need a new plan for our radio commission." "How about making the genre itself illegal? Firing the annoying DJs?" I shook my head, "No, no. They'll find another way to annoy me. How about we just shoot down the next freighter carrying anti-matter when he gets near the broadcasting tower? Or the station itself?" "Insurance, man. We can't afford setting up another accident to fix a problem." "It's worked so well before, though!" "And our premiums have tripled each year afterwards. Remember when you set up that methane explosion in the sea habitats to clean up the Mardi Gras celebration?" he asked. "That was a completely different situation, Chewchie." My mind was racing. If only I could just get rid of that station once and for good. Bingo. The next day in the local Providence paper: Providence Army Succeeds with Radio Genocide! Today in the city, armed soldiers walked the streets, searching homes and destroying radios capable of receiving any frequency in FM range. The FM broadcasting tower was destroyed as the radio station was raided. All of the disk jockeys have disappeared. That night, Chewchicken and I met again. "See, we just had to change the entire mission for the Providence Radio Entertainment Organization." "Not a bad plan," he smiled. "It's amazing what you can do with a powerful military force at your command." "What happened to the disk jockeys?" "Oh, they were handed over to a computer company on earth to beta test their buggy web browser. They'll probably never see the light of day again and that's a good thing," I told him. "What about music?" "Back to the old fashioned way, my friend. Napster and CD-Rs."
THE RETURN ~/~Guess who's back... back again... SHAVER's back, Tell a friend... Guess who's back, guess who's back, guess who's back, guess who's back, guess who's back, guess who's back... ~/~ Okay, so maybe Shaver isn't Slim Shady, but goodness knows, he's been vilified by enough people that he -could- be!! But that's not the point of this article... and yes, it does have a point! Believe it or not, a lot of new "old" players have returned. Some, like Shaver, took their name back and have come back as the same person. However, many more have left and have come back as different personas. Some tell who they were before, but many more don't. Which is interesting actually, because when a person comes back as a new persona, everyone just assumes you're an alt of someone in the game, but when you come back as yourself, everyone doubts that you're really who you say you are. I spoke with Shaver, Technocrat of Rainbow, and asked him why he returned. Here's what he had to say:
(Oh, and for those of you who don't believe he's the Original Shaver, the First Duke of Fed, well, you'd be wrong!) I have played Fed before. I came back because I was stressed and wanted some sort of diversion from Real Life. When I decided to return, I decided to come back as a different character. I did this because I wanted to come back and play the game, from scratch, not relying on players who knew me before, but actually starting over again. I was curious to discover how much things had changed and how much they had stayed the same. One thing that I've noticed upon my return is this: there are a lot of you out there, older players that sit around and talk about how things were. Stuff like, "If you'd played a couple of years ago, a Squire knew how to handle his planet and we didn't need the ban rule!" "When I was an FO I had to haul IN my inputs and haul OUT my products." You guys sound like my parents and grandparents! So I'll ask you what I ask them, why don't you change the things you can? Why don't you oldies teach the newbies how to run a planet instead of giving them easy factories and groats? Above all make Fed what you want it to be. If you want to sit around and be social, do it with gusto, but if you don't take the time to learn the economic side of the game, don't moan and whine on Channel 9 about losing groats to the guy who chooses to play the economic side of the game. And for all of those who couldn't stay away... Welcome Back!
Two major problems loom before us in these days of post-AOL modern Fed. Though seemingly unrelated, they can be tied together in a way that might present a solution for both. The first tribulation of this duo is boredom. Time and time again the comms come alive with a burst of static and the attention-seeking lament of, "I'm bored. Someone entertain me." Ah, another poor soul who has forgotten they can actually leave their planet or barstool rises again and demands the rest of Dataspace take responsibility for their own amusement. Their misery wails across the universe (or at least channel 9), eventually resulting in system-wide lag as the masses all attempt to use the tune off command at the same time. The second problem has infected Sol creature-mobiles to the point that it has changed how most players view the game itself. Sol mobiles – at least the animal varieties – are mostly shunned or feared in this modern era. They scratch, they bite, and they growl and hiss. Sometimes they even attempt to take away body parts. We weren't always like this, though. There was a time in Fed when you could cuddle the kitty, play tag with a marsrat, and tickle the underbelly of a zlitherworm. When you snuck a cookie to the dog you were even greeted with a wagging tail and thanked with a sloppy dog-snog! You see, we beastly residents of Sol are no longer what you'd call 'socialized'. No one plays with us. In our loneliness we've reverted back to our worst unsocial growling, hissing, snapping instincts. Now if you took all those bored barfly players and those unsocialized Sol mobiles and put them together in a reality-challenged environment, instead of the mass murder you hoped for they might actually end up filling each other's needs. And if that fails, they could still kill each other. Either way, Fed ends up a more harmonious realm. I propose that each bored player in Fed should adopt an animal mobile and play with it. I realize it may have been a long time since you've played with an animal in Fed, so I've developed a few pointers for those that might choose to adopt cats or dogs. If your adoption plans include a zlitherworm or tinguey then you need more help than I can provide.
(Note: This portion has been deleted due to graphic violence, foul and abusive language directed towards felines, and general lack of objectivity towards species other than canines.)
Admire your dog. Dogs love admiration of any kind and generally regard themselves as the most attractive of creatures. Contrary to historic opinion, dogs do not circle three times before they sleep to satisfy some primitive instinct. They do this so you can admire their physique from all angles. Some dogs are so egotistical they will continue to spin in perpetuity, or until they throw up on your carpet. Play fetch-the-stick with your dog. He can confirm his opinion of you (what idiot keeps throwing away the thing he seems to want most?) and you can get your woods deficits filled. Do NOT play fetch-the-rads with your canine. Read by him. This is for those PO's who ignored the fetch-the-rads warning. When he rests and opens his mouth, the green glow from his lolling tongue will provide plenty of illumination. Host a leg-loving contest. Invite other dogs to participate. You provide the leg; do not attempt to compete yourself. Become a Fighting League champion. During the pre-fight periods make sure to encourage your canine companion to drink as much as his belly can hold. Position him near the cargo hold doors, and each time your opponent starts getting a little too close to your ship open the doors while yelling in a loud voice, "Tree!" Turn your hound into a canine fashion trendsetter. Apply generous amounts of red lipstick to your canine, thus breaking the black lip fashion now adopted by most dogs. Feed your dog an Alka-Seltzer tablet and let him loose in CDs. Make sure and yell "Mad Dog" as you shove him through the entrance and stand back while Diesel's half dressed patrons come barreling out the door. Take pictures. If you don't feel as though you can take on the long-term responsibility of a dog, you could consider an alternative. Spruce up your planet and invite this dog to come by and sniff it out for a formal planet review in the Chronicle!
CAFFEINE RIOT Deep in Providence's warehouse district, buried under ton after ton of soya is a large storage tank. Inside is my poison: caffeine. In my hospital is a secret room that only I am admitted to. In this room is a comfortable arm chair with an IV connected to this tank. Every morning, I wake up, stroll down to the hospital and the doctor expecting me hooks me up for about ten minutes or so and I'm fueled for the day. On Mondays, I usually stay hooked up for an extra two minutes. I woke up in my comfortable bed in my bedroom and didn't even bother opening the shades on the viewports of my space station. Instead, I grabbed the controller for my teleporter and shimmered right out from underneath my flannel-lined sleeping bag. The hospital was a nightmare, people were ecstatic and running around like freshly beheaded chickens. The doctor was nowhere to be found. My caffeine dose was empty. Where in the snert's hell was my caffeine?! Your comm. unit crackles with a message from Chewchicken, "Hey, cousin, we have a problem." "Gah, what? I'm a little busy!" I was still trying to get my fix. "Chewy, maintenance workers found the caffeine tanks. It's gone. All of it." Dear Ming. Was it really possible for them to take all of it? I hoped not! I moved out of the hospital and found a rambunctious planet. They rolled across the streets, they rolled up the walls, and strangely enough, not one of them could blink. The caffeine had ruined their judgment and they were destroying the city! I soon found myself in the Throne Room in my palace. I had one question on my mind and wanted it answered: "How?" "I have no idea. The workers found it, one fell in the batch, and the others saw the effect and took in some and then shared the wealth." "And when did this happen?" "Around midnight. Within an hour the whole planet was awake. Army medics are saying they give it a couple of days to wear off," Chewchicken frowned. "I thought I hired you to prevent this kind of stuff?" "No, you hired me after you got rid of Bill to advise you. I'm new at this remember, you hired me strictly on family relations and the fact that your auntie, my mother, made you do it. I didn't even have a resume and I was working in the w00kie c00kie factory." I smiled, "That's why you make such good cookies!" "The trouble at hand. I suggest you start storing this stuff in your space station. You could have medi-bots hook you up before you wake up every morning. You wouldn't even need that alarm clock anymore," he explained. "Darned alarm clocks, they wake me up in such a crude way." "Until then, soldiers have started rounding up those under the influence with high-pressure water hoses," my cousin pointed at the main view screen at the other end of the room. It was quite comical. All of the bright-faced caffeinated drink thieves being knocked over and back into corners. The soldiers managed to corner some of them and keep them contained in blockaded alleys where they would all stand and sway back and forth together in unison. "Interesting. And what do we do during all of this?" "One week lock down in the Throne Room. It's standard procedure for riot conditions." And with that, the windows were sealed and shielded, the door was blockaded by massive blast doors and we were locked in. "You bring the beer?" I asked him. "You got the smores?" he asked and I held up a bag of marshmallows and pulled out graham crackers and chocolate bars from cabinet in the break room. Until Monday, we're stuck here fattening up on smores. Next week, I'll be looking for a health club.
THE RETURN: THE COMMENT Last week, The Mystery NewsDroid referred to a player as:
Wrong! There were many, many Dukes before Shaver had even thought about becoming a GroundHog. Back on GEnie Fed, Oddball was the First Duke of Fed, being the very first to solve the Duke puzzle, all on his own, with no hints or clues to help him out. He was followed by many GEnie Fed Dukes, whose exploits can be read about in the Fed Archives (http://www.ibgames.net/archives/fed/index.html). The best Shaver can claim is to be the first AOL Duke of Fed, which doesn't sound quite so impressive!
WHOSE ALT ARE YOU? Hello, my name is <grins> and I'm an Alt. As I mentioned in my previous article, The Return, I am a returning Fedder. I decided to come back as a new persona for many reasons. When I left Fed over three years ago, I was a Duchess. It had been years before that since I had actually made my ways through the ranks. I decided to play the game and make my way through the ranks. I found my notebook of Fed and logged into the game. Luckily my maps of Sol were still valid, so I made my way to bribe the Official to get my permit. Then it was off to get my spaceship from Jarrows. I quietly started working the jobs in Sol, trying to pay off my loan when a kind PO offered to help me. By this time, I was able to travel from Sol, so I hauled within his duchy to finish off the TCs that I needed to promote. When it came time to find the GM, a factory owner offered to treat me to a drink at the Starship Cantina before I started my search. Amazingly enough, when I landed on Earth and left my ship, the GM was waiting for me on the LP. So the FO and I laughed and enjoyed our drink at the ‘Tina. When it came time for me to start my company and buy factories, I contacted the PO who had been so helpful to me before. He introduced me to other Planet Owners who need factories. I was so excited because this PO was taking the time to teach me things about Fed. He watched over me and my company, asked how I was doing and offered his services at anytime. He never asked me who I was or if I was truly a newbie, but offered his assistance as I worked for him. He even introduced me to other players, one who would eventually become my Duchess. As I became more vocal on comms and met more players, another side of Fed was revealed. I was accused of being an alt of a well known player. Not just accused, but actually harassed by many players in the game. People would show up where I was and tell me that they knew who I was. They would tell other people that I was another alt and they could prove it. I spoke the same way, or had the same mannerisms of another player in the game, therefore I was faking it, and trying to con people into thinking I was someone other than who I said I was. I was so disappointed that I almost left the game. But I decided to stay. I had made a lot of new friends, had a very good roll for an Agri and didn't want to be bullied out of something that I was enjoying again. Now, you might ask why I'm telling you this or even why you should care. My response is this: even if I were an alt, what difference would it make? Why should I be treated as anyone other than who I portray myself to be? Why don't we treat all newbies the same instead of assuming that they MUST be someone else? I know that I would like to encourage people I know to come to this great multiverse, or even for old Fedders to awaken their characters. But I don't want to put them in the same position I found myself. To answer all you inquisitive minds, I am a returning player. If that makes me an alt, then I guess I am. Treat others with the same respect that you would like to be treated, otherwise you might run off the next best thing.
LAZY PEOPLE, AND THEN ME When I was a little w00kie, I'd sit in my father-w00kie's office and read the comics he put on the wall to distract his mind from the hell he was really in. My attention from these comics was distracted to a more humorous figure: the bosses. When the boss came, a period of laughing and jokes was soon to follow. "Hey, whenever you write a letter for the chief, we'd like you to leave that little footer off." The footer they referred to was a pair of two initials, one in all capital letters (who it was from) one in lower case (who wrote it) and some people receiving the letters were making cracks about it at their own departments and word soon got around, "That nut can't even write his own letters!" Was the person complaining to my dad doing her job, or simply didn't want their useless boss' (useless, useless) laziness (understatement) to show through? Either way, we both commented and quietly chuckled to each other, as the lieutenant was right next door, about the matter. Fortunately the chief had people to hide his laziness for him, but some people aren't so fortunate and their laziness broadly shows through. Richardhead (as I'll call him) was a prospering factory owner on my planet. He wanted to trade up his decently profitable wood factories for artifacts factories. My planet was poor for producing artifacts; however I was concerned how well my exchange would support factories in his favor. "I can afford one, maybe one. I don't even really need it and my exchange would be more profitable for you if you kept your existing facs," all three of them, I stopped before I said it. "I can't stand hauling in inputs anymore." "With the arts, you'll probably have to haul out surplus. It'll be just as troublesome as hauling inputs and more than likely not as profitable," as three fur factories! I wanted to tell him so badly. And he only had to haul in a couple of inputs, my exchange produced most of them; a technological economic development wasn't that bad! "I'll deal with it if I have to." He sold his factories, he bought the arts fac. It was on. Two days later, I tight beamed him, "You know, there's quite a surplus building up already." It was nearly a thousand tons. I got no response. Richardhead avoided me. He simply didn't want to make money! I thought players were motivated by the thought of having a planet and really getting the opportunity to sit on their rumps to work their tails off to get past FO-hood. He would've rather slow, and nearly stop from what I could tell, his income just to sit around. It seems the longer you play Fed, less and less things surprise you. I wasn't going to complain. My exchange could use the surplus, and, why deny it, I'm lazy.
YOU HAVE THE POWER!! It was a quiet Sunday evening. The Comms were quiet, as usual, and I was bored watching football on my vidi screen. Suddenly my PDA reminded me in a gruff voice, "Duffs Modem! NOW." Jumping to attention, I programmed the route in my ship and headed to Mars. I'm sure many of you were in attendance for Hazed's Meet and Greet hosted by the always charming GalinFenner. If you weren't able to make it, you should go to http://www.ibgames.net/federation/events/duchyreview/2002/hazed.html to read the logs, as it was interesting and informative. One of the most interesting portions of the night happened when the capacity crowd was given the opportunity to ask questions of the demi-goddess. Coming home from the event, I programmed my ship to take the scenic route around the Metaverse to ponder the events of the evening. As I watched the star patterns change and warp, I allowed my mind to ponder on the questions of the evening. Many questions presented spokes of things such as easy groats and puzzles whose answers were readily available. One individual asked about various puzzles that could be exchanged or randomized, I'm assuming much like the hunt for the GM is, you never know where that bugger will show up! Others spoke of ban rules and embargos, POs or Dukes flipping a switch to get rid of unwanted riff raft found on their planets, and of course, skimmers who would be harmless to exchanges that are set up correctly. The common consensus was that folks were looking for hard and fast ways that codes should be changed to limit fast and easy promotions. I sat up straight in my chair as this thought came to me, 'WE' have the power to change the way things are in the Metaverse. We can allow Newbies the sense of accomplishment we felt when we solved the puzzles or made enough groats to get out of Sol. We can teach and mentor them so they can handle their exchanges, under our watchful eyes, but refrain from easy handouts. For those of you who haven't experienced these particular thrills of Fed are much like one attendee who lamented the fact that he was never able to complete the Snark Puzzle. So I would like everyone to think about this: Fed might not have the capability currently to require that certain codes be followed, but 'WE' do. We should welcome and encourage Newbies, not assume that they've been here before or are an Alt. We should help them and watch over them, nurture them and mentor them. Coach them as Vice Presidents on our Planets teaching them the ropes while they learn the ins and outs of the exchange while their factories provide the profits they need to promote. Allow them to haul their imputs, not give everyone easy factories. Then 'WE' can see how the Metaverse changes. Who knows, with a valid challenge, more Newbies could find their way into our reality.
Whenever I have a lull between planet review requests, Hazed always tries to think up things I can do to keep myself occupied and protect DataSpace from the results of my bouts of boredom. This time she declared I was due for a checkup from the nearest thing Fed has to a veterinarian, Dr. Fogg. In general I like Dr. Fogg. His office has the neatest latex chew toys (as long as you remember to spit out any batteries). Fogg is a little prone to over-prescribe purging doses of Whoosh, but the taste isn't too bad and Hazed usually leaves me alone when I'm communing at length with the loo. This time Hazed wanted Dr. Fogg to do a teeth cleaning and eye check. When he approached with his miniature toothbrush with the dinosaur shaped handle, bristles covered in layers of what had to be jellied Whoosh, I showed him my teeth. I peeled back my lips, rolled up my tongue, and made a deep grumble in my chest that could not be mistaken for anything other than – You touch my pearly whites and I'll sink them into your neck. He flipped the toothbrush to Hazed and told her I looked juuuuuust fiiiiiiine. The vision test took a little longer, Fogg having shown the initiative to include some naked poodle pics on the eye chart that had to be examined at length. I was fitted with fashionable eyewear, and sent back to Earth to await planet review requests. I came to appreciate the advantages of previously having lived in a sight-challenged world. The first thing that came into focus with my new spectacles was the realization that those were not dog chew toys in Dr. Fogg's shoppe and I'd been running around squeaking on things that looked vaguely like neon body parts. Next I found that fluffy female poodle I so admired and thought fresh from the groomers was really a grossly overweight chihuahua named Butch. I rather liked my previous myopic view of the universe. So now that I can REALLY see your planet, shine it up and submit it for a formal review. Every planet is entitled to one exploration and write-up by yours truly, and as long as I don't lose the glasses I'll be more likely to water the trees than your statues as I explore.
VOTE FOR ME, I COMMAND YOU! Election time for city officials had rolled around on Providence. The list of official positions was as follows:
The nominee was:
For the easily confused voters of Providence, this was a big race. The ballot was simple: a card with the word Chewbacon in the middle of it and nothing else at all. They were instructed to circle the name of the official they wanted to vote for. It was all Chewchicken's idea; he's a genius when it comes to stuff like this. As my citizens always do, they found a way to screw up. It was announced on the local news: "Chewbacon is the Overlord of Providence after winning by a landslide!" All had ended well and I went to sleep. When I awoke, I turned on the news and saw the headlining story: "Election Recounts." "Chewchie, I thought you said this was foolproof?" He nodded, "It was! It was!!" "Then why are they demanding recounts? It was pretty obvious who they could vote for." "Well, some didn't circle your entire name. Many of the votes have C-H-E-W circled, many others have B-A-C-O-N circled." "Beautiful." Chewchicken handed me a new plan, "I suggest we give them their recount. It'll make them think they have more control than they really do and we'll try out my new plan that has got to be foolproof." He was right, it would be pretty difficult to foul this one up. Voters simply picked up a card with my name on it and were instructed to make any sort of mark on the ballot. The same announcement was announced, "Chewbacon won," and I assumed all was said and done. Yeah, right. Chewchicken woke me the very next morning, "They want another recount." "I think it's time for plan-B." "Destroy the power reactor and collect the insurance money?" he asked in shock. "No, no! It hasn't come to that yet. It's time to tell the people they live in a monarchy." "That doesn't sound so good," he said. "What will they do? Vote me out of office?"
WHY ARE YOU HERE? 212475:589 - Mystrynewzdroid: Why, oh WHY are you here?! Send me your comments for an article for the Chronicle!! MysteryNewsDroid@Hotmail.com. So I've been posting on the bar boards, trolling for your opinion. Unfortunately, you either don't believe your opinion is worth printing, or you just don't care to share. I did get a couple of responses so I suppose I'll start there. A person, who wishes to be identified as "Like-Watching-Drama-Queen" wrote:
I can see where LWDQ is coming from. People are definitely interesting. Especially watching how they react to different stimulus in their environments. Watch the social Fedders cry foul when the economic Fedders haul to their planets, causing them to lose groats while they were at a TTTT party. Or watch the economic Fedders lament the fact that they have nothing to do when they hit Duke(sse) or Baron(ess) because they really haven't established relationships in the game. The Multiverse is a study in psychology and sociology. Duke Ops decided to post his response which is as follows:
Again, I can see where Duke Ops' mind is. Many folks are in the Multiverse for an escape from reality. Here they have control over their destinations. They have friends, lovers, their own worlds. Here it can rain all the time or the sun can always shine. It's whatever you want it to be. Although others didn't post or send in their opinions, I have noticed other trends. For example, on Channel 9 the other day there was a player who was having a RL crisis. They came into the Multiverse for support and advice. While some argued that Federation wasn't the appropriate place to discuss such a matter, others argued that it was perfectly okay. For this is where support that was needed was offered unconditionally and without judgment. So while folks can argue about haulers or socials, take a look at yourself and your reasoning. I guarantee you will discover why you're here… and why you might never leave.
TOP TEN REASONS TO BRING BACK
THE TOP TEN LISTS
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