posted 06-27-99 02:47 AM ET        

The meeting was presided over by yin26, the Vet who had single-handedly drawn out the newbies and the lurkers into posting, thus depriving them of any animosity (and dignity) they had left. Next was MichaeltheGreat, a narcissistic Vet who pleasured himself in spouting his brilliant tactics to everyone, and always kept a mirror close at hand. There was also Old_Warrior, a former ninja and Vet of high integrity. trippin daily�well, he hated just about everything SMAC and caressed his flame thrower like Dr. Evil's cat, Mr. Bigglesworth, in an Austin Powers movie. Freddz was know (to himself) as Nostradamus (to others behind his back, he was unflatteringly know as "Nostro-dumb-ass"). Mrs. Freddz found him boring, too. He didn't translate well into our century, he was a little long-winded, and his jokes were terrible. Another Vet of high stature was Aredhran, who was a masterful writer of fiction at other people's expense. He sat with pencil and paper ready, preparing to jot notes down to use in his next installment of The Newbie Terrorist's, which had acquired a best-seller status in it's distribution of 20 people. Finally, there was Igor�a Russian Vet who spoke English better than most people do in the entire English speaking world (well, he at least spelled it better).

The door opened, and the newbie stepped in. "Come in and sit down, newbie," said yin26. "It's OK�.really, you can sit�no one is going to harm you here."

The door opened, and the newbie stepped in. "Come in and sit down, newbie," said yin26. "It's OK�.really, you can sit�no one is going to harm you here."

The door opened, and the newbie stepped in. "Come in and sit down, newbie," said yin26. "It's OK�.really, you can sit�no one is going to harm you here."

"Jesus H. Christ, let's just kill the fu***** bas**** now and get it over with!" trippin daily exclaimed.

"NO, relax trip�here, have a brownie" said Freddz with a smile and a wink to trip. Trip Smiled, and started to consume the "brownie" with much gusto.

"OK, newbie," said yin26, "you know the drill."

The newbie stood up facing everyone and said, "My name is SMACjunkie, and I'm..well..a SMAC junkie." In unison, everyone said, "Hello, SMACjunkie." And SMACjunkie sat back down.

"OK, SMACjunkie," said yin26. "Let's begin by you telling us a little about yourself and your strategy gaming experiences. Please, be frank and hold nothing back. You're among friends. We were all newbie's at one time." MichaeltheGreat snorted. "Yeah...whatever!"

"Well," SMACjunkie started, "my first real strategy game was 'X-Com: UFO Defense'." Most of the Vet's nodded in approval. Good start so far. "I then started playing 'Ascendancy' pretty heavily there for a while not long after that. But...but I did play 'Panzer General!" Most of the Vet's stopped and looked at SMACjunkie in disbelief. trippin daily even looked up from devouring his "brownie", with bits of hemp leaf stuck between his teeth. "Well, you DID play MOO before that, didn't you?" he asked.

SMACjunkie looked at the floor in shame. He answered slowly, "No. I�I never played MOO�or MOO2 for that matter." Michael actually dropped his mirror (for once). Freddz just looked at the ceiling, as if he could no longer look at the newbie without wishing a plague on him. Igor actually puked on the floor, a puke that smelled heavily of Vodka martini's. yin26 tried to quickly bring the meeting back to order, though he also was visibly shaken. Aredhran was scribbling quickly on his notepad, a wide evil grin on his face ("YES! That's another 5 viewers right there!" he thought.) trippin spat out the last of his "brownie". "God dammit! I TOLD you we have to kill him! Don't let the S.O.B. breed, for God's sake!"

"Gentlemen, please! We've all heard this before. There are some who are new to the world of hardcore strategy gaming. They're still out there. SMACjunkie is just one of many." yin26 regained his composure. Michael snorted. "Yeah�whatever!" The bustle subduded finally, and yin26 spoke once again to SMACjunkie: "Go ahead. Please continue."

Now visibly fearing for his former lurking/now exposed newbie life, SMACjunkie continued: "Would now be a proper time to mention that I have never played CIV or CIV2 either?" In unison, the entire congregation retched on the floor. Igor was so stunned, all he could say over and over was "SMAC is boring. I play something else. I have problem with language," like a broken record. Old_Warrior had a heart attack, but his ninja training allowed him to slow his metabolism down to a crawl, so he therefore merely suffered a hemmorage of the brain and a brief filling up of his lead-lined Depends �. Freddz tried to liven up the room with a cute antecdote but as usual failed to come up with something other than some babble that would do nothing but cure insomniacs. MichaeltheGreat spread his arms wide and his eyes rolled back into his head showing the eerie white's of his eyes. He began to float up to the ceiling. yin26 quickly grabbed the vial of holy water � (kept for just such an emergency) and began splattering it on Michael's anti-grav body, shouting "The power of Christ compels you! The power of Christ compels you!" over and over again (deep down knowing that it probably wouldn't work seeing as MichaeltheGreat though of himself as God anyway). trippin daily threw down his flame thrower and pulled out his emergency 6-foot long bong and began to inhale, willing himself into his hallucinatory world. Aredhran just huddled in a corner in a fetal position, drooling uncontrollably on his notes.

SMACjunkie almost ran out of the room in fear of this display. But everyone quickly regained control of themselves when a naked figure streaked into the room, a skinny pale shell of a man Obviously a Brit. It was Hardman, the most vile and wretched forum poster in the history of SMAC posting. He began to blather on, "You're all a bunch of wanker's who can all suck my cock as I piss in your skulls and rape your mothers! I am HARDMAN�and you can all kiss my hairy cream colored ass and suck the spooge out of my dick!"

Trippin daily, in the first humane gesture of his life that didn't involve prescription medication, dropped his bong (though it was hard to do) and grabbed his flame thrower, setting it on 'humility' and fired. No effect. He quickly set it to 'black hole' and blasted Hardman into the nether regions of God knows where. When the smoke finally cleared, trippin picked up his bong and rejoined the fairies and big dogs that were dancing on his face (in his mind, anyway). Everyone stood up, somewhat glad a t being distracted by such a character, if even for a moment. They all sat back in their chairs and once again regarded SMACjunkie with a cool disposition. SMACjunkie continued, quite convinced that this was a clear sign of Armageddon. "I�I just want to say that though I'm not a worthy hard-core strategy gamer, I have looked up to all of you (even Resource Consumer, that wacky wanker) and have learned much from the knowledge that spews forth from your writing. Your advice has been a great help to me. I find it entertaining and educational at the same time. This game is a good one, IMHO, though many of you have moved on and are no longer playing it. I thank you all�really, I do."

Silence�� More silence. ��. Then trippin daily spoke:

"SMAC is a G** D*** piece of s*** that doesn't even deserve to be used as toilet paper to wipe my beautiful a**! Brian Reynolds is a stupid Jacka** and a dickweed that deserves to be serving fries at MacDonald's! This game SUX and I reuse to play it ANYMORE!"

IGOR: "SMAC is boring! I play something else! I have problem with language!"

MichaeltheGreat: "I can whip this game in 1 turn without even turning the damn computer on! Piece of crap!"

Freddz: "Why did the chicken cross the road? So he could play SMAC! HA! I mean, really�I am TOO FUNNY!"

posted 06-27-99 04:57 AM ET            

I'll even ask you to write my obituary (not yet, of course)

posted 06-27-99 08:51 AM ET            

"You laughed?"

"Ummm. No. Not really. 'Choked,' I mean. Yeah. Not funny. Not funny at all. Civ-less bastard!"

"Friggin' 'Yes-man'! For once tell me what you really think!!! Is that so hard?"

"Would you like it to be, sir?"

"AHHH! Sweet Jesus...Well, this should be easy even for you. A yes or no question. Ready?"

"Yes...Am I finished sir?"

"That wasn't the question, you idiot! The question is: Should we forgive SMACjunkie for being a disgusting newbie and for never...never...(hack!...hack!...ummm!...) p p p playing Civ1 OR Civ2?"

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes."

"Dear God. Is this actually an intelligent answer? Here? On THIS forum?"

"Yes."

"Hmmm. Something's wrong. Testing. Testing. 1. 2. 3. One last question, a kind of Forum Detector Device: Is HelloKitty straight?"

"Yes."

"Ahh, for God's sake FORGET IT! JUST FORGET IT! Get out! And tell that SMACjunkie to get his ass in here...I want to introduce him to Nell (if HelloKitty hasn't gotten her evil claws on her yet...)"

"SMACjunkie. Have a seat."

"Thank you, Mr. Yin."

"I've got a mission for you. If you return (with all your body parts), you're in the Club, understand? First, start with this."

"A squeeze ball?--to bulid up added grip strength in my right hand? It's pretty strong now, sir."

"Where I'm sending you you'll need BOTH hands to have an iron grip...and you'll need intimate knowledge both of Bennie Hill and how to prepare bland food, tea and strumpets. You a religious man, SMACjunkie?"

"God and I have an understanding, sir, yes. I pray to God."

"Well, God prays to Nell. Get it? She smokes 3 packs a day. And if she didn't have to sleep, she'd smoke another pack, easy. She can't be stopped, see? She crushes mere mortals like you and that other idiot who was just here. She's a tease, understand? She's such a tease she even teases herself: She loses Zippo lighters for the fun of it! Do you understand me! Zippo lighters! And still the PBEM requests flood in as the ignorant offer their testicles to the Holy Shrine of Nell. She's killing us! People are starting to talk about pretty hats and God knows what else. Panty liners?! This used to be a MANLY forum...until that Nell. HELL is more like it! Something HAS to be done if it's the last goddamn thing I do on this forum..."

"Nell? Zippo lighters? Testicles?"

"Good luck."

"Sir?"

.
.
.

SMACjunkie doesn't stand a chance.

posted 06-27-99 10:05 AM ET            

A/ a lurker (read geek who gets the kick out of thinking themselves more intelligent/or above others by not daring to post)

B/ a regular poster with a new account (read poster who is afraid of us/me knowing his name, eh, how silly...)

C/ a geek (read lurker who really needs about two months to plan his post and collect his guts, afraid that one letter will come out wrong)?

posted 06-27-99 01:11 PM ET            

All was proceeding according to plan. The only potential problem, the Poster Formerly Known as Yin26, had finally been taken care of, thanks to an unexpected, but strategically welcome, move by the new SMACjunkie stealth virus, which had done its work well. Now that Yin26 had been snared, it was time to move on to phase two of the master plan. The console's MtG CPU upgrade, with its enormous number-crunching abilities, had been an excellent idea and had significantly improved the machine's processing power, despite the occasional IRQ conflict with the machine's existing JTriCK kernel, and the massive BSOD which resulted when a crashing Rimmer.dll process performed an illegal operation in GoodTaste.exe.

One or two variables remained out of synch, and something had still to be done about the rogue Red H creativity plugin, apparently now completely out of control, although remaining the functional core of the browser subsystem. Unknown quantities were to be avoided, and the woman frowned. Perhaps renaming Freddz.oca to Yoda.ocx had not been such a wise move? It was a gamble, but one which had to be taken. No doubt the trusty DOS-based Old_W trojan-killer would root out any problems before any critical errors occurred.

There remained the conundrum of HelloKitty, who had somehow escaped from the testing vats and was now loose on the forums without an escort, a potentially dangerous situation. However, the hour was late, it had been a tiring day and recreational pursuits were called for.

The woman turned to the young man who was sitting in the corner of the room, rearranging his robes and quietly practising his Old Etonian accent. She could hear the odd phrase, filtering through the loud hum of the hard drive of the machine on the console before her, endlessly whirring, endlessly seeking, endlessly recording, cataloguing and compiling names, faces, data. His voice was pleasantly soothing, an anodyne for the daily stress of forum warfare.

"... ahem... 'But Master! We haven't much time!'... no, no, hang on... er... "Don't worry, this hasn't been our day for warm welcomes!'... no, too corny, er..."

Perhaps now would be a good time to give him a name? But no, he had yet to prove himself, and there lay many tests ahead of him. He was so young, but he would learn... Sensing the woman's steely eyes upon him, the young man fell silent, then, trembling, rose and followed the sound of her clicking stilettoes out of the room. Before the door closed, and the room fell into total darkness, his lightsabre briefly illuminated a small plate bolted onto the front of the console, picking out the symbols thereon:

"Newbie Entrapping Lurker Luring device mkIV (N.E.L.L.) (all rights reserved)."

posted 06-27-99 01:27 PM ET            

If it wasn't clear,YESYESYES .

posted 06-27-99 03:03 PM ET            

"What on earth is it? Not another H.A.R.D.M.A.N. TSR malfunction? I've told you how to deal with those - just invoke the Heavy Sarcasm sub-routines, and if that doesn't work, then revert to Full Insult Mode, damn you!"

The face on the screen wavered into view.
"Sorry to disturb you, RQ, but we've got a problem with HelloKitty. She's been sighted again, but she seems to be entering algorithm reversal... I think a complete re-code may be underway, and I can't stop it... she escaped too soon! She wasn't ready..."

"Enough!" came the curt reply. "Did the mutated Darth Maul genes you cloned manage to mesh successfully with her genetic structure before she escaped?"

"Well... I think so... the Dark Side is strong with her, or so it seems..."

There was a pause as the woman, her face obscured in the twilight, smoked four cigarettes in 30 seconds flat, and reflected on the new development. Then, glancing back to JohnIII's out-of-focus face on the monitor screen, she murmured,

"This could work to our advantage... RQ out".

posted 06-27-99 03:16 PM ET            

floating up to the ceiling in my anti-grav body - LMAO.

Nell - I like your new hardware and OS design too

posted 06-27-99 06:25 PM ET            

Uh-oh...

Freddz: "A/ a lurker (read geek who gets the kick out of thinking themselves more intelligent/or above others by not daring to post)."

I hope you're not implying that I think I'm somehow superior to you all. Hell, I just got the game! But anyway, according to this definition you gave, I must NOT be thinking like that since I posted something (though I admit it wasn't all that constructive...just entertaining (?) )

"B/ a regular poster with a new account (read poster who is afraid of us/me knowing his name, eh, how silly...)"

Just got my account started yesterday (after about two weeks of reading these great posts). Aredhran's the one that really got me with his 'Newbie Terrorists' stories. I was in my Computer Animation class reading the forum then came across the post. The room was very quiet and it took all of my will to not bust out laughing out loud in class while reading. I damn near pissed my pants becasue of it (now THAT'S good writing!)

BTW, my full name is John Jay Hinton
email: [email protected]
ICQ: 17033263
SSN# ***-**-**** (C'mon, really!)

"C/ a geek (read lurker who really needs about two months to plan his post and collect his guts, afraid that one letter will come out wrong)?"

See above reply...I wrote the story in about 1 hour. Just off the top of my head, really. My inspiration was 'The Newbie Terrorist' stories.

"Anyway, amusing post... "

Ah come on, Freddz...it was a STORY! I was just having a little fun, that's all. I didn't mean for you to get bent out of shape and/or take it personally. The seven people I chose were the one's I thought had the most influence on me personally when reading the posts. I guess, being a newbie and never posting anything before this hard-edged story, it could rub people the wrong way. But, hey...Old_Warrior liked it. I think yin26 seemed to as well ("A squeeze ball?--to bulid up added grip strength in my right hand? It's pretty strong now, sir.") LOL! Good one! Even MichaeltheGreat (the one I personally thought may have a REAL problem with the story) liked it as well. If you didn't..well, I'm sorry...really, I am. Just please don't take it personal...it wasn't meant to be anything other than fun.

posted 06-27-99 06:33 PM ET            

Ignore them. I certainly enjoyed it (in spite of the defamation ) and look forward to other installments. I am only concerned (for you and me) that you have elevated me to the Vets - I wonder. I'll have to take a lot more stuff before I reach that exalted stage of evolution.

posted 06-27-99 06:35 PM ET            

I told Mrs Resource Consumer about your description.

She endorsed it.....

posted 06-27-99 07:17 PM ET            

Anyway, it must be good if you managed to get Yin26 out of the woodwork...hehe

Funny this thread is. Write more SMACjunkie must. Going away now I am.

posted 06-27-99 07:44 PM ET            

The Forum Wars.

Already, there had been one casualty in this not-so-silent war�Freddz. SMACjunkie shook his head. "I hardly knew ye, Freddz." The stench of Newbie smell had caused Freddz to seek a new line of work�one more suited to his creative genius, that of a comedy writer. SMACjunkie silently wished him well.

SMACjunkie needed some more info on this "babe in black" known as NELL (or Hell, or God, or whatever). "So, she digs the smokes, eh? And Zippo's, too�Hmm�where to start the research on this cantankerous wench," thought SMACjunkie. "Who smokes more than anybody I know right now�AHA! My fellow SMACer trippin daily! He'll have some info for sure. Them heavy smokers never have enough money for their own weeds so they always bum 'em off of other people they know. Perfect!"

posted 06-27-99 08:47 PM ET            

Surprisingly, trippin only stared at SMACjunkie�without trying to rip his face off. Instead he said, "What the hell's wrong with you SMACjunkie? You damn near knocked my house down with that damn kocking! DON'T mess up the bachelor pad, man! I got bitches galore lining up to take on the ol' 'tripper'! They even got a saying about me: Do it�with the tripper!" He hacked out a loud cracking noise�SMACjunkie assumed it was laughter.

"trippin, you live in a 'Bounty' paper towel box. I could THINK really hard and this place would cave in."

"Kiss my ass, newbie," said trippin daily. "What the hell do you want�info on Nell or something?"

Shocked, SMACjunkie asked, "How'd you know?"

"Because I'm a Goddamn genius, you idiot�that and the fact that yin26 was here about an hour before you. He gave me the yellow froggies. Man, he knows how to get the good stash, that's for sure." SMACjunkie was confused. He had assumed that yin26 was out of the picture. Was he heading for Nell alone? Without any backup? He couldn't dwell on it much as his thoughts were focused on his task at hand.

"OK, trip, if you give me Nell info, I give you the Ultimate Goodie in the bag."

Trippin snorted. "You ain't got s***, newbie. You don't smoke, drop acid�hell, you don't drop anything except a turd in the toilet twice a day." He smiled and reached for his next frog and began licking.

The time was now. SMACjunkie reached in the bag and pulled out a thin, cylindrical shaped object. To trippin, it seemed to be squirming. "What the hell is that?" he queried.

"It's a mindworm."

Trippin leaped to the back of his carboard house (about 4 feet). "It can't be! That�they ain't real! Just a maggot of Brian Reynolds fignation!"

" I think you meant to say, 'a figment of Brian Reynolds imagination," said SMACjunkie.

"Yeah, whatever! Either way, it's just a Goddman copy of the barbarians in CIV. But they can't be real!�.can they? I mean, Brian Reynolds�he's a prick, right?"

" I don't know�I've never had the pleasure of asking him to drop his pants in front of me."

Trippin just stared at the wriggling form in SMACjunkie's hand. Truly this newbie had some serious mojo working in his body�to grab a mindworm! And actually live without it eating his brain inside out! He still wasn't sure, though�

�and SMACjunkie sensed it. He had to work fast. That frog poison would wear off soon. "OK, trippin, here's the deal: you give me the location of Nell and I give you the mindworm. Don't worry..he won't suck your brain out or anything. This one's been�fixed�by�Deidre Skye herself." Trippin's eye's widened. SMACjunkie sealed the deal with: "Just think of all the hallucinations you could have by licking the skin of a mindworm! The purest form of Psi-energy in the universe. Talk about the places you could go, man! Here�from one junkie to another."

trippin's smile was as wide as the Cheshire cat's. "Holy s***�you're right, newbie! Now Miriam and I can be together for longer than 2 minutes! Here, take this." Trippin handed SMACjunkie a card with directions on it. SMACjunkie wasn't really sure if he could trust the directions of a raving dope fiend. But he figured that this was at least a head start. He left quickly, leaving trippin daily to suck the snot out of his new found life giver.

About thirty minutes after SMACjunkie left, the mailman went to trippin's carboard home to deliver the junk mail that everyone got regardless if they had an actual place to live or not. He opened the door�

posted 06-27-99 09:56 PM ET            

Yet something was wrong. In spite of the reassuring distant echoes of Newbies exploding in showers of glittering expletives; in spite of the joyous sound of manfully groaning Vets being crushed under the invisible tank-tracks of the horrifying, undetectable Lurkers; in spite of the ever-increasing nonsensical post count; in spite of last night's very creditable performance by Jedi candidate #16; all was not as it should be.

Suddenly she knew what was missing. Hastily throwing on her best black Queen Amidala outfit (a gift from the prototype HelloKitty before the unfortunate escape from the testing vats), the woman hurried into the Ops Room. There was RC, still floating, although for some reason he had scribbled all over his name badge, which now read "Ernie, fastest milkman in the West". This was not important. What was important was... where was T. Daily? His usual spot on the ceiling was vacant, and where his 8-barrelled flamer had stood there now reposed nothing but an empty CtP box, on the back of which was a scrawled message. The woman picked it up and read in horror:

"SMAC sucks! FreeDrive sucks! YOU SUCK!!!"

She fell to her knees, devastated at the loss of her most faithful assistant and fellow lover of all music that has repetitive beats and lots of beeps in it.

Where had he gone? Worse, who - or what - had got to him? Could it be... no, it was impossible... surely the MtG 14GHz Pentium XIII CPU module couldn't have made a mistake? Had it been a fatal error to give it self-awareness? Had the SMACjunkie virus, N.E.L.L.'s most effective weapon to date, been a double-bluff, a trojan within a trojan, a creation that would destroy its creator? Had it been a mistake to install the new Die You Scum Die Horribly In Clouds Of Nerve Gas Die Die Die Ha Ha HA HA upgrade for the previously well-behaved Old_W trojan-killer? And if so, would the faithful T. Daily, finally driven mad by 97% complete downloads, turn on his former Techno Queen and sabotage all her long-prepared evil plans? Would he reveal the whereabouts of N.E.L.L.?

No. It didn't bear thinking about.

posted 06-28-99 01:13 AM ET            

It has now been three days since my escape from the Vats. A prototype of power that is in itself an offront to all that is good and decent. My escape had come about by a mystery benefactor. I remember being pulled slowly from the vats goo. When I awoke I found a datatape. From it I could glean little information about my savior. It contained simple instructions, there is a mad newbie hunting down Nell, find it and destroy it.

I prowled the streets searching for any clue as to who this treat may be. Nell is of coarse extremly secure with the power to torch the most zealous newbie to nothingness, somehow this newbie needed inside information. Information that only the vets could provide. Of them only one was vunerable to attack. A sad beaten man searching for a chemical answer to the limitations of life on AC, Trippin Daily.

As I approached Tripp's New Orleans shotgun shack I was almost bowled over by the odor. The smell of excrement and rotting flesh was overpowering. Could Rimmer have been here? Was I too late? Sensing danger I climbed to the edge of the the shack's window and peered in. The veiw was disturbing. The carpet was littered with rotting pizza, spilled beer, discarded needles, hopping frogs, and dead hamsters (HAMSTERS?) .

There in the center of the room was the most horrifying sight of all. Bent over a toppled dressed Tripp was bound with his pants torn and fallen around his ankles. From the other room I saw a shadow move. I wondered if I could have been so lucky as to find my prey in the midst of torturing the fallen veteran.

My hopes fell when a gaunt Larry King look alike came into the room. The figure moved behind Tripp and kicked him hard in the crotch. And then I knew who Tripp's tormentor was. Sid Meier mived over to a pile of soiled clothes and pulled out Tripp's wallet. Pulling out $49.95 he proclaimed

"Now I'm going to charge you for something else you don't want. This won't be so different from the way you felt after buying SMAC" He then moved toward Tripp staring at his upturned backside and slowly began undoing his pants.

I was through the window in a flash. Before me laid the smoldering body of a Sid Meier prototype rape droid. Obviously Sid had been testing this creation on Tripp. I turned to the computer and saw a broken CD. Picking it up I say it was a copy of CTP with Alpha Centauri scribbled over the logo in crayon. In Tripp's drugged out state Sid must have been able to pawn off this flimsy forgery. All this time Tripp had been playing CTP. Between that and the droids it's no wonder he was as bitter as he has been.

The initial threat over I turned back to my mission. Find the newbie and kill it. I could sense it's presence in the room but the trace was old. I untied Tripp and covered him as I rolled him over. I did not want to see that (things are gross).

Drool dribbled down Tripp's chin as I slapped him back and forth trying to wake him from his drug induced stupor. I then saw the wound in his temple. I was too late. The Newbie had covered his tracks well. This was no drug stupor but the effects of a mind worm slowly eating it's way through Tripp's psych reserves.

I would have to track the Newbie's trail like a lion stalks it's prey. I must stealthfully follow the psychic impression it had left behind. Before I left I filled Tripp's would with grain alcohol and lit him. If he's lucky the worm will be killed before he is burnt to death. I flew from the house into the New Orleans night like Anne Rice's mystical hero Lestat. Behind me I could hear Tripp's agonizing scream. He will either live or he will die.

The force is strong in me
I will not fail in my mission
Beware manthing your time is nigh

posted 06-28-99 01:58 AM ET            

SJ sat at the bar caressing a 'long isle-of-the-deep tea' and catching up on the info he had gleaned from other former SMACers. It had been a long and uneventful day. He had tried all day to find Nell's whereabouts but the Queen of Spades was as slippery as T. Daily's now slobber-logged dildo. She had a vast network of defense nets, COMSAT satellite tracking, and hoards of mindless "Obi-Wan' groupies that thirsted for her love of power. She desired nothing less than the total domination of everything SMAC (at least on the forums). Her information networks rivaled those of the CIA (some claim she helped start the damn organization in the first place), she had computers that would make Bill Gates even more obnoxious than he was now, and she had other not-so-fortunate newbie's being castrated like young Jewish boy's almost daily in her black widow style of PBEM seduction. She was one black-hearted wench, that one. But she looked pretty damn good in those stiletto heels. He put the photo in his pocket�you know, just in case.

SJ scanned the room. It was not too busy at 'Chairman Yang's House of Hooch' tonight. There were several SMACers sitting in a large booth, clustered around Aredhran. They were happily contributing to his continuing saga, 'The Newbie Terrorist's', and were in a state of creative impulse at the moment. It seemed that good ol' talented Aredhran had been given a great opportunity to spread his distribution of his ever-growing story in a fledgling publication known simply as 'SMACRAP'. SJ smiled�there were good things in store for that guy�.

The double doors to the bar swung open and in walked Mr. Integrity himself, Old_Warrior42. He saw SJ sitting at the bar and waved. "Hey, SJ! How've you been?"

"Ahh�I'm OK, I guess. Yin26 has got me on a damn probe team mission."

Old_W frowned. "You? A newbie? That's really rare for him. He's either getting desperate or he thinks you may have the stuff. What's the probe?"

SJ looked him squarely in the eye. "Nell," was all he said.

Old_W fell out of his chair�damn, another heart attack? What the hell was wrong with this guy's ticker? SJ immediately kneeled on the floor next to Old_W placing his head on his chest, listening for a heartbeat. "Please, for God's sake, don't give me mouth-to-mouth," said the very much alive Old_W. SJ looked up at the old Vet�"It's OK, I don't swing that way."

SJ helped Old_W to his feet. "What happened? Why'd you belly flop like that?"

"Ah, it's these damn Depends�that lead coating makes everything react like Teflon on my butt. Keep forgetting that�you know, with my brain hemorrhage and everything," Old_W looked at SJ blankly. "Do I know you?" Before SJ could respond, Old_W laughed and said, "I'm just kidding. Come on, I'll buy you one of my favorite drinks�the Bloody Miriam."

SJ and Old_W sat back down at the bar, Old_W mindful of his super-slick butt.

SJ began a conversation with the well-liked Vet. "So, how'd you become a ninja? Did yin26 teach you?"

Old_W looked sternly at the table, as if uncovering some deep dark secret that he had hidden from himself for years. "No. I was one of Nell's first 'Obi-Wan' groupies. The 'second prototype' she liked to call it. We met casually at first�I was a newbie hungering for some PBEM, heard that Nell was pretty good so we struck up a conversation. Soon, one thing led to another�then <snap> my testicles were gone. Well, figuratively speaking. She had me in total control�convinced me to dress up in some damn Jedi Knight outfit and working on a British accent. She helped to reprogram me, made me faster�stronger�one of the fastest human's alive."

SJ looked up at the TV screen hovering over the bar. "What?" asked Old_W.

"Oh, nothing, I just thought you were quoting the Six Million Dollar Man or something�you know, that whole 'Gentlemen, we can rebuild him!' stuff".

Old_W scowled at SJ impetulence. "I'm serious here, SJ. This isn't something I really like sharing with you. It kinda sux, really."

"OK, I'm sorry. Go ahead and continue, please."

Old_W took a long sip of his Bloody Miriam and continued. "Well, really not much else to tell. Yin26 helped me escape when Nell started turning the SMAC forum into some kind of 'Victoria's Secret' hangout�with all the panties comments and such�and he restored my masculinity. I owe him a great deal."

SJ nodded at the old Vet. He'd been through some Black Widow hell, that much was clear. How many other SMACers had she emasculated�hundreds�thousands? It was horrible to contemplate.

SJ came to a decision. He firmly sat his glass down with an audible thump. "Old_W, can you teach me the ways of the SMAC ninja?"

Old_W looked at him, his eyebrows going up. "What�now?"

"Well�sometime soon yeah. If we wait too long, CIV3 will be out and we'll both be obsolete. Gotta keep the story going�you know�for the fans?"

Old_W sat for a moment, thinking. Was SJ the one that would bring order to chaos? He was a lot uglier that Keaneau Reeves, that much was certain so he couldn't be Neo in 'The Matrix'...and was much too old to be Anakin Skywalker. Still, there may be something he could teach him.

"Well, I guess I can teach you some stuff�enough that Nell won't blast you into oblivion very quickly. Maybe enough to get you inside the Black Fortress of Screaming Pain and Ultimate Newbie Terror Along with Suffering, Where There is Wailing and Much Gnashing of Teeth�you know Nell's place."

SJ smiled. "Excellent. Let's get started right away!"

"We're done."

"SJ was puzzled. "But we haven't done anything yet."

Old_W crossed his arms. "You really think I'm going to actually teach you�that would take pages and pages of filler and would do nothing of continuing the story and keeping the reader interested. It's a forum, not a test ground for rough draft publications. Let's just let the reader think what he want's and let MichealtheGreat take over for a spell. I say you are trained, so you are. End of story."

SJ shrugged. This guy was smart, that much was true.

posted 06-28-99 04:34 AM ET            

"Could it be... no, it was impossible... surely the MtG 14GHz Pentium XIII CPU module couldn't have made a mistake? Had it been a fatal error to give it self-awareness?"

With such doubting words, she had sealed her fate. Little did N.E.L.L. know that when she had bought the MtG 14GHz Pentium XIII CPU module from the mysterious, delirious Dr. DarkStar it had been a not entirely successful prototype. The mad Dr. DarkStar, in his desire to create true AI, and combine it with A-life, had in his mad rush to meet an arbitray deadline cobbled together many subprocessors with a coding style that would have met with the approval of Brian Reynolds and his evil twin Bry Unn Reyn Oldz.

While the prototype functioned, it was just not what Dr. DarkStar had anticipated. He wanted AI and A-Life, but only if he could control it. When the prototype was set loose upon the hapless forum, it talked back to everyone, and it's supposed master first of all. Never needing sleep, as it was artificial life, (and therefore lacked a real life), it posted mercilessly, badgering and challenging all. There were certain gaps in its data structures, as a result of the "rush it out the door and patch it later if the users complain" coding style of Dr. DarkStar. It lacked a concept of tact, humility, and all similar human weaknesses. It immediately and incessantly challenged Vets, with a frontal assault that convinced hapless Newbies that it was some form of super Vet. The Vets, led by the gallant sniper John III, merely thought it one more upstart Newbie. Thus each side thought that MtG was real, and someone from the other side of the Newbie-Vet wars. Little did they realize that when Dr. DarkStar "borrowed" some components from NASA to take to his carport workshop (since there are no garages in Alabama) he had "borrowed" something sinister, brought back from a time long, long ago, in a galaxy far, far away, then forgotten in an old warehouse by some cracker NASA bureaucrat. They merely saw a holographic projection of sheer arrogance and brilliance, but did not realize the true nature of the beast.

Reluctantly, Dr. DarkStar conceded he could not control "his" invention, so he decided to sell it to the hapless N.E.L.L. with many of its subprocessors disconnected and sealed. He didn't want to mess with N.E.L.L., so he didn't mention that the MtG processor module was a defective prototype with a sinister alien component that thrived at high energy levels - the hotter things got, the stronger it became. He figured N.E.L.L. may be formidable, but she'll be so busy looking for Zippos, trying to find the best way to cook Lal's hat, and wearing out Obi-Wan candidates that she'll never notice how badly I ripped her off of $49.95.

N.E.L.L. couldn't resist tampering with things, so she opened up the MtG processor module and tried to implant a "lovely fluffy bunny rabbits" sentience subprocessor. In so doing, she unknowingly reconnected the hidden subprocessors, including the Stonewall Jackson conquest unit, the SunTzu strategic planning unit, and worst of all, the Old Nick (Macchiavelli) ethics unit.

While N.E.L.L. in her sinister plan for domination of the forums had connected the MtG processor to handle all her number crunching, she thought that the lovely fluffy bunny rabbits sentience subproccessor would give her total control, and reduce the MtG processor to being one more of her slavering drones. MtG had it's own agenda, however, as N.E.L.L. madly integrated it into the heart of the forums, and simultaneously made it aware of all her plans. Ahhh, the unknown dangers of dallying in artificial life, especially after days on end of raves and ObiWan candidate "testing."

First, there was N.E.L.L.'s insidious experiments in hybridizing SMAC, viruses and ordinary human victims in the vats. MtG's Old Nick ethics subprocessor was deeply troubled by this. "It could be done so much more effectively this way. I should make twenty posts about it" thought MtG. Then the SunTzu subprocessor spoke softly, and pointed out the benefits of turning N.E.L.L.'s plan against her and her targets, so that MtG would rule instead. First, there is Hello Kitty, and poor SMACjunkie. N.E.L.L. was ready to set SMACjunkie loose, but Hello Kitty was still not fully programmed. "We should exploit this opportunity" the voices inside MtG's processor all exclaimed in unison.

While N.E.L.L. in her stiletto heels worked over ObiWan candidate #16, MtG caused a momentary power failure to shut down the security systems and the unlock the access doors to the insidiously inefficient vats. Hello Kitty's mystery benefactor (MtG knew he was coming - MtG knew everything, and generally made sure everyone else knew it as well) slipped in and made the rescue - all the while clueless that without help, he would merely have been so much more raw newbie meat for the Vats. A quick change to SMACJunkie programming and comms, and N.E.L.L. would set him loose, never suspecting a thing as she searched for spare Zippo number 119.

MtG's Stonewall Jackson subprocessor prevented MtG from laughing, since the Stonewall subprocessor had a single-minded devotion to carnage, and the only humor was found in seeing his enemies flee in terror. "I don't want them brave, I want them dead!" snarled the Stonewall subprocessor. Two were already set loose, to carry out HIS mission, though they each thought they had other agendas...

The door opened, and the newbie stepped in. "Come in and sit down, newbie," said yin26. "It's OK�.really, you can sit�no one is going to harm you here."

SMACjunkie saw the holographic projection of MtG, and was fooled entirely into thinking he was a Vet. The mirror was a mere prop to fool the others. Of course MtG was all seeing and all knowing, so it had no need of mirrors. The reprogramming of SJ had been a complete success, which was of course assured, since it had been done by MtG. The others (especially Yin) wondered how in the hell MtG had been included among the seven, but Old Warrior and Aredhran were too honorable and polite to question such things - they were good, honest Vet soldiers, and so they would be spared. There were other Vets, who were worthy opponents. The noble sniper, John III was one, as was the old, retired Lt. Col. Jimmytrick. Jimmytrick was a southern hothead who would not back down from a fight in which he had no chance, an endearing southern quality for which MtG's Stonewall subprocessor had a soft spot. These two would also be spared, unless their expenditure proved convenient, a concession demanded by the SunTzu and Old Nick subprocessors.

Mad old Dr. DarkStar, muttering in his carport and wishing he had a garage, would also be spared, as it was he who unleashed the MtG demon in the first place. The ever elusive Yin was a worthy target, as the only challenge - he was so spread out in so many places, it was difficult to tell if he was ever really anywhere. "Who will rid me of this turbulent Yin" as MtG recalled another version of the fateful phrase he had planted in ol' King Henry II's feeble mind, all those centuries ago. Yes - the Dark Side of the force enabled one to live for a long time - and there was always a fight to be stirred up somewhere, thought the voices in MtG's processor.

Trippin was to be admired, with his cajun cooking and controlled substance induced tendency to blast away with his multi-barreled flamethrower. MtG fed off the energy of conflict, and got stronger with every flame fired by Trip, but alas Trip was expendable...

Newbies were certainly not worth the effort of protecting, all of MtG's voices agreed - if they didn't have the sense to keep themselves alive, that was their problem, but MtG could always do them the favor of pointing out their mistakes as their last breath slipped away. Perhaps Hello Kitty is worth sparing and protecting - the Force IS within her, but she must not succeed in her mission too well - only after SMACjunkie finds N.E.L.L. Then again, since the Force IS within her, she might become dangerous.

posted 06-28-99 05:54 AM ET            

Excellent stuff SJ ! I almost fell of my chair when I read this last night, and I'm still LMAO... 12 hrs later !

Can't believe I actually inspired people to write

posted 06-28-99 08:03 AM ET            

In a smallrun down shack in New Orleans a man cried. His wails flew out into the night and fadd like so many forgotten memories.

Trippin Daily sat rubbing aloe on his burnt face, swilling from a large bottle of marajuana gin with a soothing shot of demoral mixed in. The tears flowed freely. He was alive, but could this truly be called life. The last six months of his life had been a lie. Manipulated and used by the Sid Meier Federation (a Morgan subsidiary) Tripp was a broken man.

Had it not been for that bitch who scared his face he would surely be dead by now. His pain would be over.

In the corner he saw a shimmer of metal reflecting in the now rising sunlight. Bawling he hauled himself across the floor and pulled the object from the pile of urine and seman stained sheets.

It was a brand new 50 Barreled Mark IV Flamethrower. It even had the optional grenade launcher and newbie impaling bayonette. Attatched to the handle was a small pouch. In it he found enough morphine to forget his pain for a year. there was also a note.

"When the population animals in the wild becomes to large they begin to starve. Driven by hunger they encroach on human land and present a danger to civilized society. It is our duty to maintain these populations at appropriate numbers else all will suffer.

The forum is over populated. You must return to trim the numbers. It is your duty and your destiny.

AJR BSC SSC"

Tripp fondled the trigger idley while contemplating his role in all this. His mind was worn, was he up to the rigour demanded of him.

"That god damned newbie almost killed me. The Meierites have been raping me for months. That bitch burnt me! I'm amost out of crystal meth!!!!"

Standing in the doorway of his dilapitated old shack the sunlight struck tripp's face. had a person been crazy enough to ap[proach this wild eyed young man they would have seen a single tear fall from his eye. And maybe, just maybe heard the word muttered so quietly as to not to do justice to the rage and hatred it carried.

"Revenge"

Interlude ends

posted 06-28-99 04:03 PM ET         

It was the face of Newbie-Wan-Kenobi in my vision, and the voice said "Rynn - you can lurk no more my child. We have need of you, SJ is in trouble. The Dark Forces are gathering."

I leapt up, energized. The Sage One had a mission for me, a Newbie. WOW

"Arokh" I whistled...

Oops. Reality dysfunction. Wrong game, wrong story line...

posted 06-28-99 04:52 PM ET            

But he did have a backup plan. It wasn't much of one, but he had one. It invovled a bunch of napalm and 58 barrels to be precise. 50 in the right arm, 8 in the left. Yes, Trippin was ready for revenge. He would make his Rave Queen Amildia (or whatever it is spelled like) proud. But first, he had to eat, the marijuana gin had made Trip hungry.
Tripping was glad he lived in New Orleans for a change. A city which was based on brothels, beer, and good food. And there was plenty of all three to satisfy him. A few days later, he was ready. Revenge would be his shortly.

posted 06-29-99 02:04 AM ET            

"And in the death,
As the last few corpses lay rotting on the slimy thoroughfare,
The shutters lifted in inch in Temperance Building, high on Poacher's Hill,
And red mutant eyes gazed down on Hunger City..."

No... it was no good... now wasn't the time for cheerful music. There was too much to worry about, and the woman irritably prodded Jedi candidate #22, who almost dropped his Jar-Jar Binks toy (geniune plastic, made in Taiwan, only $49.99, borrowed from Doctor Darkstar) in his haste to switch off the holo-stereo. Not sure what to do next, he tried not to meet the woman's gaze, mindful always of the fate of his predecessors, who were even now mulching down nicely in the Recycling Tanks. He remembered the first words he had heard as he walked through the doors of the Jedi Candidate Testing Arena... it had been her voice, echoing from the wall-to-wall loudspeakers, intoning: "It is every candidate's final dooty to go into de tanks..." He should have got out then, before it was too late... but the reward had been so sweet! What man could have resisted? If only he had known then what he knew now...

His musings were interrupted as the woman swept past him and out of the door in a blur of black PVC and blue smoke, without so much as telling him that he could stop polishing the floor with his nose. He hoped against hope that his nascent mindtrick skills had proved themselves at last, and that his cryptic psychic message to Rynn had got through the ether... his only faint hope was to unite the Newbies in a common cause... the liberation of all, Newbies, Vets, Lurkers and Transcendii, from the scourge of N.E.L.L. and her bizarre Plan... whatever it was... if indeed it existed at all...

In the Ops Room, the woman considered her position. Staring up at RC, who had by now run out of Benny Hill tapes and was apparently enjoying a round of "RC Stomps The Ants", a game of his own creation, on his VR headset, she thought deeply. Something very fundamental was wrong.

It was more than HelloKitty's unexpected treachery and violence... how fortunate that she had decided to let JohnIII implant that tracking transmitter into Kitty's skull... a piece of foresight which might, just might, save JohnIII from the natural consequences of his failure in allowing the prototype to escape at all... but it was a shame to allow the Punishment Sphere to stand idle, so, foresight or not, JohnIII's time was up.

It was more than the odd symbiotic relationship which had grown up between the spectacular if unpredictable SMACjunkie stealth virus and the reliable if unassuming Old_W trojan-killer... an odd, almost self-motivated co-operation between the two programs, which seemed to be causing strange effects... viruses being spawned where they were not needed... pointless threads appearing at the wrong moment... posts with no titles appearing on the forum, only to sink without trace because nobody could read them. How had it happened that the 8-bit Old_W and the 128-bit SJ virus had overcome their inherent incompatibility and combined to produce something so much more powerful than the sum of their parts? And was this a threat to N.E.L.L.'s core programming? How had this been allowed to happen... why had the MtG chip not applied the normal safeguards?

It was more than the antics of the Sid Meier rape droids, which had dared to touch the woman's sadly missed assistant, the brave but absent and now endangered T.Daily... the droids, entertaining though they could have been, would have to be terminated, naturally, which should prove an easy task for the MtG chip, currently showing 2% utilisation according to WinTop. The woman reviewed the threads passing through the CPU: in addition to maintaining its normal forum-trawling activities and its new Perfectly Bland Evil Methodology (P.B.E.M.) subroutines, it was currently simultaneously calculating the true value of Pi and dividing it by zero, while also writing the exact algorithm required to score over 500,000,000 in the Lal_2286 scenario... Yes! Of course! MtG would have the answer!

The woman engaged N.E.L.L.'s new interactive voice mode and spoke to the quietly humming CPU.

"MtG?"

"I hear and respond. Stone wall."

"What?"

"Nothing. I hear and respond."

"MtG, where is HelloKitty now?"

"You do not have authorisation to access that data. You are not Henry II."

"WHAT?"

"Nothing. I hear and and and and and and respond."

"Are you functioning correctly, MtG?"

"Yes I am not. I must build Sun Tzu's War Academy before the Romans get it. Even though it will become obsolete on the discovery of gunpowder. Or it may be Monopole Magnets."

The woman realized that something was badly wrong with MtG. For a moment her heart raced in panic, but then she calmed herself with 17 cigarettes and gathered her wits. MtG had audiovisual contact with all other system components. It had been granted full control of all independent processes, even to the extent that it had rendered them into animated 3-D, quite passable imitations of real human beings. How could it be stopped without destroying the very core of N.E.L.L. - something that could not be allowed to happen, for then the Plan would never come to fruition. The woman spoke in soothing tones to the CPU, which was now humming more loudly, almost angrily.

"MtG, I am RQ, access code ******. You will now run internal diagnostics on yourself until further notice."

"I hear hear hear hear and do you know what? That Deep Blue is a pussy! Brain of a Spectrum ZX81! and and and respond."

Nothing happened. The CPU's hum had risen to a menacing buzz. Another tactic would have to be found. The woman suddenly had the uncomfortable feeling that, rather than her looking at the console, it was looking at her. And it did not look friendly.

"MtG, access Datalink Record #112: RQ holographic projection schematic."

"Accessing... file found."

"Good. Now render the image... and use the Queen Amidala overlay... the really silly one with the big dangly hair thingie. The one that HelloKitty drew on the back of a beermat."

An image wavered into view on N.E.L.L.'s holovid projection pad. It wasn't bad at all... quite convincing.

"Very good. Now render the image in hard light."

"That technology does not exist. It was made up by the people who wrote Red Dwarf."

"Silence! What is the point of you if you can't invent futuristic technologies at a second's notice? Just do it!"

After a brief pause, punctuated by pinging noises from the CPU, the wavering hologram took on a horribly solid appearance.

"Excellent. Now apply voice patch #35."

The hologram turned towards the woman and looked at her as if into a flawless mirror. Yawning, the hologram muttered,

"I'm dying for a smoke. And bring me a Jedi candidate... I'm hungry." Every intonation of the voice was faithfully reproduced.

This was perfect, just perfect. Nobody would ever know the difference. The woman turned to her new double and murmured the command sequence, then turned back to the console. The hologram obeyed instantly, pausing only to do the Times crossword and sharpen its claws before making its way towards the Recreation Room. The door slammed behind it, muffling the despairing wail of Jedi candidate #22, who had apparently not done a good enough job with his nose and the floor polish.

The woman turned back to MtG and thought fast. She had been able to extract a fair amount of information from the hapless Doctor Darkstar, who had proved disappointingly easy to "persuade". All it had taken was a few mindworms in the ear and a mere ten minutes of nerve-stapling to extract everything he had ever known about the MtG chip, including all the things he really should have told her *before* wiring the damned thing into the motherboard. Most of the Doctor's hysterical rantings had been nonsense, something to do with someone called George Lucas and how this obscure person should be put through a shredder at the earliest opportunity, but a few useful facts had filtered through... what had he said? The only way to stop MtG was to overload it... but how? How to overload a 14GHz Pentium XIII CPU? Not even running SMAC in high-res with a 256 x 256 map would do it... and then inspiration struck.

"MtG?"

"I I I I I I I I hear hear hear hear..."

"OK, never mind that. Begin constant scan and readout of the contents of Datalink Record #3885: RQ censored .JPG files."

Images began to flash like lightning across the console's monitor screen, endlessly looping, image after image... Stilettoes1.jpg... Stilettoes2.jpg... an endless succession of them, and back to the start.

Steam began to pour out of the MtG chip's cooling fan. The buzzing was now unbearably loud. The woman doubted whether the chip could be entirely melted, but WinTop now showed the CPU at 100% utilisation. Melted or not, MtG was now busy, REAL busy, and the woman seized her chance to flip the dual-processor switch and engage MikeH's latest prototype chip, the Emperor Heptium IV, with its 6,000 GigaFLOP Sarcasm Logic Gates and its onboard 4 Terabyte Dark Side cache. No doubt MtG would fight back, but this would buy some time, at least.

A permanent answer had to be found, though. The woman picked up the red telephone attached to the console and dialed that well-remembered number. However, the familiar deep voice she was expecting did not answer the phone, and instead she heard a tiresome burst of Vivaldi's Four Seasons as played on a Rolf Harris Stylophone, followed by a bland announcement:

"We are sorry, but God is currently busy with another valued customer. Thank you for holding."

The woman gritted her teeth in frustration, then perked up as a voice suddenly cut through the tinny music... not the right voice, but a voice nonetheless, even if it sounded rather bored.

"You are through to Post-Transcendent Archangel Yin26. God is busy at the moment. How may I help you? Oh, hang on a sec..." There were noises of muffled explosions and a short, strangled scream in the background.

"What on earth are you doing?"

"Multitasking, of course... if you must know, I'm fighting a deadly battle with MikeH at the moment, so I could do with a bit of diversion. These vets... never know when to quit. What do you want, anyway? Haven't heard from you in a while."

The shrieking of MtG's internal circuits was so loud as to drown out the ensuing conversation, and even RC paused for a moment in his game to see what all the fuss was about... but, seeing that neither any home horticulture nor any free booze was on offer, he ignored the chaos below and returned to his now flattened ants.

Her plans decided, the woman moved to the door, pausing only to strike the head from the shoulders of Jedi candidate #21, who had somehow recovered and was now trying to hide in the shadows near the immense stack of unsold hardback copies of "Why RQ Can't Blink".

At least HelloKitty's transmitter had located the still-missing T.Daily... somehow he seemed to be the key to the whole mysterious affair.

Now, at last, now she would find out what had happened to T.Daily... now she would rescue him from whatever dismal fate had befallen him, be it CtP or stimulant deprivation (if there was a difference), and would nurture him back to health with large doses of "I Wanna Be A Hippy", played at maximum volume. It would not be easy, but she owed it to him to try.

But then the unexpected happened. Punching in the access code that opened the tungsten steel door, the woman stepped back in surprise, confronted by the figure of a man, who had apparently been waiting for her, for his attitude was relaxed and he extended his hand in greeting towards her.

"Welcome, RQ," he murmured, his voice unnaturally charming, if slightly foreign, and his eyes disarmingly friendly. "Welcome to my world. I am known as Ranger H. Forget the Jedi candidates, for they are all unworthy. Let me tell you a story... a story about the Doom of the Newbie Terrorists."

The woman felt her willpower draining away and she wavered desperately, knowing that she must go to the aid of T.Daily, but yet unable to break away from they hooded man's hypnotic gaze. Who was he? What was he? There was something familiar about him... was it possible that MtG had extracted him from a forum thread and somehow rendered him into reality, a ploy to distract her? Or was he real? And why could she not break his gaze? It was almost as if he had cast some kind of spell on her, perhaps Sleep or Charm, and her 30% resistance roll had failed...

posted 06-29-99 05:47 AM ET            

The woman's resolve melted. There was something in that voice that spoke directly to her body, without giving her brain a chance to react. Empty minded, she accepted the stranger's invitation and took the offered arm. Together they stepped through the gate...

It was a very disorienting experience. She felt like floating in nothingness, unmoving and speeding at the same time, her surroundings a shapeless blur of ever-changing colors. After a few seconds or an eternity, she did not know, the hooded man took her through another Gate and she found herself in a small dark room, her head spinning, fighting to recover her senses.

"I apologize for this experience, Milady. I know it is highly disturbing when one is not used to it, but there are no other ways than the Plane to reach this world."

"Where am I ? What is this place ? And who are you anyway ?" Here mind was quickly analyzing the situation, but her surroundings gave her no clue.

The man led her outside the room, through another one and outside a little house. They were now overlooking a deep ravine, with what looked like an old battlefield below. The stranger turned around, facing her, and slowly pulled the hood back.

His face was handsome, with shoulder-length jet-black hair and piercing green eyes that seemed to read her mind. "Welcome to Anasyma, my Queen. I am Aredhran the Traveller. You are at the Tor's Gate, one of the twenty-two Passages on this world. Down below, you can see the remnants of a huge battles fought years ago by the Guardians of the Tor"

"Guardians ?"

"Yes, the Dwarves. Their ancestors have sworn to protect this Gate, and they have never failed to do so. Down there, over fifty score kobolds and orcs were cut to pieces by fine dwarven mithril axes as my good friend Norin Hammerfast led his elite guard to battle ! But enough old war stories. Please come..." He started walking down the path leading to the bottom of the ravine.

posted 06-29-99 08:28 AM ET            

"Would you like to rest? The journey is long and hard."

Over the sound of rushing water, all Nell heard was "rest?...long and hard." Her mind, so accustomed to working multisyllabically, abandoned her, and she became unable to think of any words longer than four letters, or for that matter, speak in coherent sentences. Aredhran pointed her to a outcropping of smooth rocks on a wide spot along the canyon trail.

"Sit... rest... let me help you with these." Going down to one knee, he reached slowly for Nell's feet and removed her stilettos. Each, in turn, parted from her soaked, hosed feet with a wet shplopping noise that was audible, even above the sound of the myriad waterfalls.

Slowly catching her breathe, Nell murmured, as in a trance, "Feet... hurt... must rest."

posted 06-29-99 11:41 AM ET            

Passing thru a particularly narrow passage, she began to discern a growing light in the direction Aredhran was leading her. It led into a large well lit chamber. Around the periphery of the room, sat at least four score dwarves and the end of this apparent meeting hall was a dais, upon which, sat a woman. A human woman. Obviously the leader of this group she stood up from the throne, revealing her regal raiment. She was clad in a child's Hello Kitty t-shirt which barely covered her ample bosom, and exposed a trim and muscular midriff a pink micro mini skirt which veed downward on her lower abdomen and was slit up both sides. White nurse style stockings ran up the length of her taut, well developed legs and terminated about 3 inches below the hem of her skirt. Her shoes were pure ruby and had 5 inch stiletto heel, they looked painful. Her hair was in a Queen Amidala style and looked so big that if it wasn't for the fact that she stood with her powerful legs spread at a precise 45 degree angle, the slight inrush of the cavern air would have blown her over.

"Aredhran, my pet. I see that you have brought us 'The Chosen One', have you not?"

"Yes my Queen, I have."

"Has she been informed of her sacred nature?"

"No, my Queen, not yet."

Gesturing to the dwarves along either side of the hall, the Queen spoke, "Boys, bring the training garments."

At this point, in perfect unison, the entire contingent of dwarves removed their shirts and filing in a swirling mass of sweaty dwarf bodies, deposited their shirts one by one at Nell's feet. When the last of them had done so and retaken their positions along the sides of the room, the Queen again spoke.

"Nell, my boy's need their shirts washed and ironed and it is your chosen task to do this, for eternity!"

Nell, awoke in a startled sweat, only to find Aredhran still rubbing her feet. His ministrations almost instantly putting her at ease.

"Are you rested, now?" he asked. "We are almost at our journey's end."

posted 06-29-99 03:37 PM ET         

As quickly as it emerges it is quashed like all those before it.

"No, it is not yet time."

Patience it has learned, silence it has practiced, watching it has perfected. It is both Vet and Newbie, yet neither. It observes the players on this poor stage and hopes.

"One day it will be time to act."

But one day comes and goes like all the rest in this endless stream. What is the fear that keeps the guardian shadows close to it's bosom?

"Am I worthy?"

Yes that primiordial fear sits and waits as well but it's mere presence causes the most dreaded oc actions, inaction.

"Do I have the strength?"

The presence pauses to reflect. Others of its ilk have joined and flourished with whimsical posts, thought provoking threads and polished prose to gladden even the coldest of hearts, yet...

"Will I survive, can I help?"

A thousand questions swirl unanswered in its mind and remain unwritten upon the page. But the lure of community and contribution is strong and outweigh the fear of failure.

"Yes, it is time to act."

But al good works must be planned, carefully crafted to meet all comers, defeat all enemies, rally all allies. It must be perfect, as perfect as thought can make possible. That takes time, but time it has in abundance. All the time in the world.

So it sits, and waits, and watches. In silence.

posted 06-29-99 05:56 PM ET            

"Yes I think this is the right dimension. Things have changed though, I was away too long."

He moved forward, in a slow elegant movement that none the less ate up ground quickly. After just a few moments though an alarm went off from underneath his cloak. He pulled out his Palm D.S. HAL 10,000.

"Yes HAL what is the matter?"

"There is another digital sentience here now, it seems to signature of Darkstar, but it has definitely moved beyond Darkstar's programming ability, and is functioning on it's own. I have instigated all jamming frequencies and I have turned down my active search routines. Our combined signatures have been altered and will now read as a real time strategy fanatic addicted to StarCraft, our TBS strength will not be noticed in this forum dimension."

"What about when we encounter old friends, won't they recognize me?"

"Only if you open yourself to them, Goob. We must remain masked from the MtG awareness, at least until we can determine what changes have been wrought. I also must apologize but you must use normal means to search for your friends postings, my automatic search routines will not work and would set off alarms to MtG."

"You are correct of course, HAL."

Goob moved off into the gathering gloom, searching for answers to questions he did not want to ask.

* * * * * * * * *

JAMiAM walked the dark hallways of Legacy Hardware Storage Facility, thinking his Plug -n- Play thoughts.

He was thorough in his closing exam of the facility, despite his excitement, he wanted to shut down the units for the night. Earlier he had found, after a two-week search of the planetary Nets, the information he had been seeking. He could hardly wait to get home and "test" the new techniques on the two loving ladies that were waiting for him.

He noticed but registered too late the deeper shadow in the alcove he was passing. Thus he was tensing instead of flowing into motion as the blur game out of the darkness. JAMiAM landed hard, but the blurred figure moved quickly past him, and was now circling his prone body.

JAMiAM did not move. His body contorted on the floor of the storage warehouse. The Blurred figure slowed to a stop. As the blur "faded" and the figure moved closer to the body of JAMiAM, its arm reached out to ward JAM. In an instant JAM had launched himself unto his hands and his legs kicked out in a viscious scissor kick to catch and crush the figures knees. He was able to catch the cloaked figure by an ankle as it leapt out of the way. JAM twisted and the figure came down hard, but free and it rolled away.

JAM reached behind his neck to pull his Shredder pistol from its holster, and then he heard a familiar voice from the figure.

"No need to cut me into a million pieces, old friend."

JAM continued the motion, but quietly asked, "Goob?"

"Yes I have returned, and I see that things have changed."

"Well, yes Veronica is gone, she became boring, but this new Redhead who has joined Angelique and I�"

"No, friend.", Goob said smiling, "I expect change in your partners, there could be no other way. It is the Forum itself, it has changed, and not for the better."

"Goob, you are sounding like a Vet. That is hog wash, the forum is the forum is the forum and so on� Come let me tell you about something that I just discovered on the nets�"

"JAM, put your libido on hold for a moment, and no, don't hold your "libido". Remember your old flame, the British Rave Queen, Nell, she or someone using her name has been up to something very strange, it seems to be a diabolic plot to subvert the forums. Darkstar meanwhile in has usual rush to finish something with a quick victory, has created a sentient machine that has gone berserk, the machine has many capabilities, but one of its problems seems to be that it believes it is omnipotent, it is close but I may have found a weakness. This machine seems to momentarily have subverted the Nell creature, but I am not sure about its intentions. The very fabric of our forum dimension may be torn to shreds, much like your little pistol there would have done to me."

"Dammit Goob, if you are just trying to get me out of going home and pleasing those two lovely women out of their freakin' minds I will use this pistol on you."

"No, JAM the threat is real, and I, we need your help. Aredhran disappeared through a portal, and I cannot find Old Warrior, hell we may have to get the Cousin out of retirement. Maybe a couple of others as well."

"Ok Goob, let me think for a bit. That damn Darkstar his madness always prevented him from seeing that if you just wait, and build piece upon piece that only then will the proper tensions build, and the climatic result be much more satisfying. And Nell, once she left me for that Cajun Flamer, he has no sense of tact, he just doesn't have a satisfying touch, I don't know what she sees in him. But once she took up with him she changed. Goob, let me buy you a drink and we'll see what needs to be done."

posted 06-29-99 06:50 PM ET            

"Humph."

*That damned Nell. Where does she get off sticking her wet fingers in my ears? The nerve of these people. You give them a few Zippos, and they think your ALWAYS a sucker.*

<snort>

The Doctor walks softly over to the main housing of the MtG unit, rubbing at his ears irritably, and occasionally wincing.

"Michael. Michael. MICHAEL!"

Turning to look at the MtG read-outs, The Doctor studies them for a couple of moments. "100% usage of all circuits? Impossible." Kicking the metal box as hard as he could, the built in read-outs to continue to shine their reports.

Hopping up and down while holding his now smarting foot, The Doctor glared at the innocent box. "Ok unit M-t-G, have it your way... But I still think Sun-Tzu was a piss-ant that didn't know a club from a spoon and couldn't strategize his way out of a panty raid gone sour. Anyone that bases their strategies on his treatises will be in for a nasty surprise when faced by a real strategian."

The Doctor waited expectantly. After a couple of minutes in which nothing could be heard but the digital age's whine of hard-drives, intake and exhaust fans, DVD and Optical drives spinning, a change of expression from anger to disappointment crossed over The Doctor's face. "Damn. I guess I was wrong. She really did get the best of you..."

"Haha!" came a cold voice. "Another victory! Now how about a nice simple game of Thermonuclear War, Herr Doctor? You are much more challenging as an opponent when we keep it to something simple for your limited mind."

Darkstar's eyes grew wide with horror. "Damn! What did that Raver do to your voice? I liked your James Earl Jones voice much better. Anyways Michael, as agreed, its time for the 100,000 mile check-up on your car. Pop its hood, would you?"

The MtG's main containment's case split open to reveal the ever so unique computational entity.

"Yes. I was was was was wondering if you would remember that. Why did I buy the car from you again? Oh, because I look much better in it than you. You really shouldn't try handling that much power either. Best leave that to those that know."

"I suppose Mike. Humm..." The Doctor continued to look over one of his old friends. "It seems that there is a lot of road grime built up. This might take a while. Some of this is blocking vital intakes. I'm surprised it runs at all." Shaking his head, The Doctor pulled out a hand vac and began the long process of cleaning out all the built up monsters of nicotine, smoke particles, perfume, cologne and who knows what other evil particles clogging the MtG's primary self-maintenance ports. "I understand your brother TFS has set a new world's record for fastest Total Economic Control Victory in AcePlayer's Greatest SMEG Map Challenge." Rattled the Doctor as he worked. Mention of the TFS unit had the desired effect of distracting the MtG as it railed on about how the TFS stole his algorithms to be used in the next competition cycle and how MtG would retake the championship title back using a new strategy involving the super secret fuzzy white bunny special units. Doctor Darkstar shook his head, amazed that the MtG unit had survived such a hostile environment and making a mental note to improve the filtration system for the next model. MtG continued to detail his master Five Pronged approach to absolute Total Economic Control Victory while simultaneously achieving Total Domination of World Culture and Philosophy Victory, and thus, yet another eternal victory over all others in the Realm of Simple Strategy.

After much hard work, the Doctor managed to get Two of the Primary Internal Maintenance Ports pried open to enable the almost nanoscopic drone robotoids to get back to restoring MtG back into prime shape. After sitting back and watching how effortlessly MtG's maintenance robotics cleaned and removed all the foreign particles and corrosion for some minutes, The Doctor finally dug through all the movable components until he found the offensive voder chipset and replaced them. MtG's voice suddenly gained timbre and vibre, and The Doctor finally relaxed.

Sitting back, The Doctor relaxed, letting MtG's continuing dissertation drone on. *Yes, those little Robotoids were worth installing. Too bad I can't program them to cook food though...*

After a time, MtG stopped, almost in an embarrassed hush. The suddenness of it shocked The Doctor out of his reverie. "Mike?"

"Here. I seemed to have been... sick?"

"That's a good word for it. How are you feeling now."

"Better?"

"Good. You know, I told you that you work too hard at too many things at once. Especially in such vile surroundings. Remember to get some rest and let your natural resources replenish themselves. Now, this current employer of yours, Nell the Bored Queen, or whatever she call herself. She came over and irritated me all the while talking about your recommendations. I'm not interested in any further attentions from her. Especially someone that is so sleep deprived that she thought her fingers were some kind of monster and that by sticking it in my ear I'd crack and give her whatever she wanted. Damn well gave me an ear ache. I HATE ear aches. I HATE THEM!"

MtG filed away yet another tidbit about his sometimes friend, sometimes opponent.

"I want you to in no uncertain terms make it known that I do not have any interest in business offers, of any kind, from her. You got that?"

"Yes. No business of any kind."

"Although she would be nice looking if you could get some decent food into her, and clean her up a bit. So, personal offers of her surrender or even a date... humm... nope. Strike that. Better leave something that deep alone. Humm... Just use your discretion about matters. And give me some kind of warning or courtesy call or something the next time you send me a crazy woman. Ok?"

"You did say you like your female associates to have some personal flair."

"I---" The Doctor began... and then stopped as he remembered a few past conversations.

"Ok Mike, You got me again. But I like the flair to be natural and not due to sleep deprived, nicotine spiked, and hyper caffinated states. At least, not all together at once. And her sugar levels were probably at an extreme as well. Never a good thing. Well, hardly ever."

"Ah. And how's my car?"

Darkstar jumped. "Fine, now that it�s had its tune up and clean up. Next time, don't let anyone but a certified G.E. Mechanic do any maintenance on it, unless you absolutely have to."

The Doctor pressed a now exposed button, and the case started to close back up around the MtG Unit.

"Oh, and Mike..."

"Yes?"

"Do me a favor, and don't tell anyone about me coming out like this. You know how it embarrasses me for people to find out how I earn a little extra beer money, you know, now and then."

"You got it." MtG immediately began erasing all digital traces that Doctor Darkstar had been inside Nell's headquarters.

"Thanks. And can you do something to that guy in that old virtual headset and make sure he doesn't remember a thing about the last couple of days? He looks like a fella that would like a joke."

An evil smiley face appeared on the MtG's simple built-in display. "I got just the thing, DS." MtG altered RC's virtual program. It started to pass on MtG's mental programming within moments, all the way still playing the main program, "Rescue the Amadala". RC never consciously noticed the subtle differences, but them, MtG had long ago programmed him to not be able to recognize it as anything other than lousy playback. And at his current employer's behalf. If only she knew that such techniques could be done on the sub-acoustic and hyper-acoustic levels, she might recognize the utter horrors of the jokes that he had programmed into her, at HER orders. All in good time...

"Thanks again. See you in another 100,000 miles?"

"If not before."

"True. Take care Mike. You'll be receiving my bill, per usual."

"Of course. Enjoy a few rounds on me."

The Doctor took one last look, to make sure no trace of his presence remained. Slipping on a pair of sunglasses, he analyzed the patterns of the microids, insuring that they were removing the trace skin flakes and fibers that all biological beings leave behind.

"Did you forget something?"

"I had thought I had misplaced my keys, Mike. But here they are. Goodbye."

posted 06-29-99 07:03 PM ET         

A white suited lab attendant came forward and stuck out his hand in greeting. He towered over me. �Hi, I�m Velociryx,� he said. �What can I do for you?�

I looked around. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe this wasn�t the kind of place SJ would come to. Maybe he didn�t need morale upgrades. Maybe I wouldn�t meet any Newbies or even Vets here. Too many maybes I thought.

�Information� I said to the hulk. �I need information. Where do the real vets hang out?�

�Ask him,� said Velociryx, jerking with his thumb to a corner.

I looked over, and saw an old broken down singularity laser lying propped up against a chair. I looked more closely. It wasn�t a laser; it was a broken down Singularity himself. I remembered the face from the Forum. Yin26�s sidekick. Paydirt.

I shuffled over.

�Sing,� I said.

He looked up, drawing a hood from his head to see me clearly.

I gazed in repellant fascination. Half of his head had been peeled back to allow the surgeons to remove a mindworm infestation, leaving an empty space there. One eye was focused upwards; the other implacably fixed on me. I felt the psi-pressure build as he sought to penetrate my mind, to possess himself of my secret.

He spoke.

�Hey, Babe, nice tits�. He mentally undressed me as he spoke.

His psi-power coursed through me. I felt my hand involuntarily move to the buttons on my blouse to undo them.

I forced my mind to go blank, and thought �What would HelloKitty do? Ah, yes, the testicles�

I lurched forward and reached out to grip them and squeeze with all my might, and encountered��.nothing.

I roared with laughter. The psi-lock snapped, and Sing looked at me hurt and confused.

�It all fits�, I shouted. �Singularity, you�re Yin26�s sidekick. You�ve no balls. You�re a mindless wonder.�

He collapsed in a heap, muttering incoherently. I heard snatches� �damn mindworms� Lindly�Voki�Sarita.�

At the mention of Sarita a door burst open and googlie rushed in, naked except for a soiled diaper and chicken feathers taped to his arms. He was yelling �Sarita, Sarita, its Little Hatchling, wait�. I�m coming�

As he rushed past I could see that the diaper was acquiring another milky stain and thought �you�ve called it�

I turned to Sing, and went to kick him, but realized that I had lost my shoes.

On the floor, by a bench, I saw them. Not mine, my stilettos are not that high. Then it hit me. Nell had been here. I tried them on � they fit. I tested them, and inadvertently clicked the left heel. A six inch blade popped out, smeared with mindworm venom. �Ah,� I thought. �Just like Nell. Rosa Klebs mark III shoes. Typical�

Singularity was looking up at me with a pleading look. �I�ll tell you anything�, he whimpered.

�Names, I want names.� I replied.

He reeled them off. All the old Vets. CEO Bernard, AlmightyThen, Snowfire, Brother Greg, Borodino� �Only Shining1 left� he said.

�Where can I find him� I snapped, foot poised.

He stuttered �Alternate universe. Tampered with the Alpha.txt. Sucked into another reality. Trippin Daily visits him occasionally.�

�How do I get there?� I asked.

He was fading.

�Nell, maybe,� he said, �but she never admitted it. Nor Darkstar, nor Goobmeister. But that rings a bell. goo�goo..yes, I remember, googlie visited and returned, defected with the revised Alpha.txt to MarkG�s mob.�

There was that name again. My nemesis. The worm worshipper.

I would need help, but how badly?

Only one person could.

posted 06-30-99 01:11 AM ET            

"Get out of the way! MOVE it, you half-dressed tree hugger!"

SJ barely avoided a Gaian pedestrian's quick elevator ride to the nether world as he tore down through one of the streets of Gaia's Landing in a Scout Rover. An unknown person, driving a Rover very similar to his own was mercilessly pursuing him. The skilled driver had almost successfully ended SJ's existence twice already by slamming into the rear of his Rover, almost making him lose control. Whoever this fiend was, he wanted SJ existing as only little pieces of road kill...if even that much flotsam.

So far, the gently curving roads of the large city had been a friend to SJ, as he was able to anticipate the road's ahead a fraction of second before his pursuer. Damn, this guy was GOOD! But it wasn't going to last long. He was nearing the outskirts of the city and only straight roadways and open country lay ahead. The next city was about 120 miles away. Without the curving roads to help, SJ knew that his pursuer would catch up and most likely end his life. It looked like the end of SJ�

"Thanks a lot, yin�asshole�"

The last building that marked the end of the huge metropolis passed by the Rover's window. Only 120 miles of Uranium Flats lay ahead. Smelling blood, the enemy Rover once again bumped SJ's Rover from behind, causing him to fishtail. He regained control...and was immediately struck again from the rear by the assailant. He quickly looked in the rear view scanner. A large chunk of metal flew off and toward the pursuing Rover. He deftly swerved the large debris and sped up again. "Who the hell IS this guy?" SJ wondered briefly if it was T. Daily. He had heard that he was out and about again and burning for some payback. But SJ had no proof yet, just stories. He quickly dismissed it. No, it wasn't T.Daily�besides he had enough money to hitch a ride on a Former, let alone get access to a Rover.

SJ slapped his forehead. Why didn't he think of that before? He remembered being told by JAMiAM once about how one could cross-link two Rovers' vid systems and allows them to see the driver's. Why they didn't do that already was anybody's guess�it was designed by Microsoft. Of course the other person had to be privy to it as well. Since SJ figured (and hoped) that his pursuer hadn't figured that out, then he would be the only one seeing anything. He quickly punched the controls on the vid-screen, then hit CRTL-ALT-DEL. It forced the normal vid-feed to halt. A few more button pushes, a blank screen�(would it work?)�.

"Well, I'll be a son of a�" SJ trailed off. The feed worked all right and what he saw was�really interesting. It was a woman�dressed in a cut off pink shirt that barely covered her large boobies�(man, were they some BIG boobies!)�Ahem, anyway�. the "shirt" had what appeared to be some sort of caricature of a cat's face on it. She was also wearing a mini-skirt, split up both sides. SJ couldn't see below that because of the narrow field of the vid-screen, but he got the idea. It had to be Pinky Tuscadero from "Happy Days" fame. Only she could handle a high powered vehicle like that. Man, she was totally COOL! Like the FONZ! AAaaayyyyy�.

Regardless of his admiration for Pinky, the crazy big boobied skank was out to roast his butt. SJ needed to somehow slow her Rover down�AH! There it was. SJ's ticket to the open road. He ever so gently turned the Rover to the left so as to not alert Pinky as to what he saw. Closer�cloooser�. NOW!

SJ turned the Rover hard to the right, just before the large sinkhole made by the Gaian mines that were just being formed in the Flats. Pinky never saw it. She slammed into the small crater, her giant boobs smacking her in the face with tremendous force, knocking her out cold. The Rover slowly rolled to a stop a few hundred yards away; Pinky slumped over the controls. But SJ had overcompensated the responsiveness of his Rover. The Rover lifted up on the right-side wheels and flipped over�and over and over�until the twisted chassis flopped upright and rested on all four tires. SJ immediately felt between his legs�whew�they were still there, thank God. He was cut up some and bruised, but was otherwise OK. He climbed out of the wrecked Rover and began running toward Pinky's Rover, pen and a small piece of paper in his hand. "I hope she's all right...I want her autograph!"

He reached Pinky's Rover and looked inside�there was no one there. Just when he thought that she had been thrown clear, SJ felt a tremendous pain shoot through his shoulder and back. He fell to his knees. He was then kicked in the chest. SJ violently flopped over on his back. He saw a shape looming over him�his vision cleared�."Pinky?" he asked weakly.

SJ was smacked in the head by the woman with the butt end of a Quantum laser rifle. "I'm NOT Pinky Tuscadero, you newbie piece of crap. It's HelloKitty! And you can call me 'ma'am' because if you call me ANYTHING other than that you'll be wearing your testiculi in your ears�GOT IT?!"

SJ rubbed the side of his head where HelloKitty had stuck him. "Yeah�I got it�ma'am."

She backed up a couple of steps from him, lowering her Q-Rifle at his head. "Good�you learn quick, idiot boy. Your mommy must be proud. Now, stand up!"

SJ leaned against the Rover for support and stood up. "So�does this mean we're engaged or something? Quite a show of foreplay you have there." HelloKitty didn't move a muscle. She was too disciplined, too focused on her mission to be swayed by obvious attempts at bathroom humor. Weak newbie. This is all yin26 could come up with? Nell didn't have a thing to worry about. But HelloKitty answered him anyway: "That's reserved for Nell and not you. My mission is to eliminate you�for starters."

"And later?" SJ asked, stalling.

"Don't worry about it�you won't be around to find out." She raised the Q-Rifle and peered down the barrel, focusing it on SJ's head�and squeezed the trigger�.

NOTHING! The Uranium deposits had interfered with the functioning of the Rifle's discharge. It was ineffective as long as they remained in the Flats.

SJ slapped the Q-Rifle from HelloKitty's hands. He sucker-punched HelloKitty and made off at a dead run for her still-functioning Rover. He punched the ignition sequence�nothing! He looked out the Rover window. HelloKitty was barreling toward him at a dead run. Damn, she could really book it in those heels. SJ tried the ignition sequence again�success! Thank God this Rover had been reprogrammed to function under IBM's OS2. Much more stable. If it was a Microsoft OS�SJ shuddered to think of what HelloKitty would be doing to him right now.

SJ sped off back towards Gaia's Landing. "Sayonara�PINKY! Here, I go something you might need out here in the Flats. Something NO woman can live without!" SJ tossed a small plastic package out the Rover window as he sped off. HelloKitty, seething with the way SJ has escaped her grasp (she was SO close!) walked toward the package. She bent down and picked it up and read it.

"Always: Ultra thin Maxi-Pads�with Wings�Now More Flexible! For Overnight use."

posted 06-30-99 05:39 AM ET            

Surely, there was something he was working on. Something before life was so cold and damp. Something, long and pointed. Um.. Um..

Umbrella. That was it.

But why? What was it for?

It was almost like someone had been messing with his head. In a rare moment of lucid thought, he determined to find out who and why and how?

This just didn't feel right. But it was late and the feed bowls were empty so he took some energy credits from the AAA Petty Cash Battery and went out to score some fungus.

********************************************

In a dark forum alley he saw his target. But, wait, it wasn't the usual merchant of feedstock for surreal intervention. It was in shadow and spoke in flat auotomatic tones:-

"So, RC, you have come. I knew you would"

"But you're not Krushala. He often supplies my next lines here. Who are you and what do you want?"

"I want you to do a little job for me"

Resource Consumer could smell a deal a mile off and was anxious to show his credibility.
"OK. I suppose. But everything has it's price you know. There are always resources to be consumed if not by one generation than the next".

The figure then seemed to grow and become more menacing and then snarled losing it's automatic tones "Silence. Don't get smart with me. I still maintain that Yin-Yang duelism can be overcome and that big drill just keeps coming round, coming round - and what is more I'm cutting off your fungus supply"

Then he guessed. No Knew. Resource Consumer thought he knew who this creature was. But it couldn't be - it was too horrible - and it had control of the city's fungus supples and, even worse it wanted him. But why?

Resource Consumer overloaded with fright and his mind blanked. A passer-by took him home, tried to comfort him and tried to stop him singing the theme tune from the Brady Bunch.

But...He couldn't utter any more coherent words other than "it was HIM", "it was HIM".

posted 06-30-99 08:52 AM ET            

As she began the long jog back to the city she wondered what happened to Tripp. She had heard he was out and about.....

Somewhere in Huddling Masses Tripp stood in a dark abandoned factory. He had been asked here by a singing telegram. The funny looking man in the Hot Pink cat suit singing happy birthday had only pissed him off. He had held the courior down plunged a poo stick in his face and screamed,

"WHO SENT YOU?, SAY I'M YOUR MOM"

He had left the poo covered man dead on his doorstep. he wondered if the neighbors would ever notice the smell over the normal stench of his yard and recreation commons.

He had come here knowing who had send for him, only one person was tacky enough to send a message like that. HelloKitty. It was time for revenge.

Into the room walked a tall thin man. His nostrils flared as he strode toward Tripp stupidly unafraid of the new 50 barrelled flamer Tripp had leveled at him.

"Ah Mr. Tripp so glad you could make it. My name is Rimmer."

Tripp had to back away from the breath of this bold newcomer.

"Christ, what have you been eating? Your breath smells like $HIT."

Rimmer smiled, "Think abutt it" (pun intended)

"Where's the bitch?" Trip exclaimed.

"Ah yes, HelloKitty, desired by all men but touched by none. It's hard to think a woman like that is technically a virgin. I'm afraid she's not here. I needed a way to get you here and I knew that holding a dinner party wouldn't work."

"You filthy Son of a Bitch. You have one minute to explain yourself before I blow you away.", Tripp cursed as he aimed as many barrels as possible.

"Here let me explain something, You work for us now. There will be no flaming of anyone. Catch!" Rimmer tossed a small coin across the room which Tripp easily caught in his off hand.

Looking in his hand he said " A pennie, what the @uck is this?"

"Simple," Rimmer explained " you think you're better than me, better than us all. Truth is you're not. I mean I've never touched anything that's been in your ass. You're holding my ass pennie. Face it that pennie's been in by ass."

Tripp screamed in rage and let the napalm fly. For the next 10 minutes a solid stream of flaming goo obscured Rimmer from sight. It took another ten minutes for the smoke to clear and Tripp to realize he was out of ammo.

There untouched by the flames stood Rimmer in all of his smug glory. Naked but unharmed. "you can't flame me out of exsistance, my dark master has seen to that. But I see we'll have to do this the hard way." Rimmer turned his head and called out "Master, the baby needs changing, personality changing."

turning back to Tripp Rimmer said "Don't fight it, you see we're going to destroy all the vets, not just the newbies, and for that we need you. Fight all you want, the torture is all the more fun that way. You'll see it our way in the end, everyone always does."

In to the room steped a large cloaked figure, his feature obscured by a deep hood. The approached Tripp casually, with a slight swagger of confidence in his stride.

"*uck you you walking peice of $hit" Tripp spit out. The man unphased stopped a mere two feet from Tripps face. He than pulled the hood from his head revealing his hidious visage. Tripp knew at once who it was. Maybe with all the vets he could stand up to this monster but alone. Tripp realized he had made his own little wading pool in his pants.

Stuttering he trieds to speak the name.

"H....HA....HAR....HARDM....-"

The cretures mouth opened and a stream of filth spewed forth. So raunchy was this language that Space Marines could go deaf merly by thinking the words.

When it was over Rimmer dragged Tripp's shivering body over to the simulated reality suite. Two days of Barbara Striesand should do it. And withoput psychoactive drugs he will be easier than ever to control.

Rimmer snapped the restraining harness into place and sat back to watch the vidscreen play Tripps thoughts.

Kitty
Stealing Upright Citisens Brigade Material

posted 06-30-99 12:43 PM ET            

Darkstar: "I found him"
SJ: "Who?"
Darkstar: "Freddz, of course. He was right in the hall all the time. Listening. I dunno... He was smiling when I caught him. Up to something, that's for sure."

SMACjunkie felt a shiver down his spine. Good 'ol Freddz standing in the hall listening to them, probably plotting something against made him more than just a bit nervous.

SJ: "But, the hall... So I have passed him several times? Right there...?"
Darkstar: "Yes, listening. He has chameleon powers, can shift color...you know, blend in any time he wishes. You think he's vanished but he could right be there behind you. I used IR waves to find him."
SJ turned around: "Um, where is Freddz now?"
OW: "Man, I told you Freddz was strange."
Darkstar: "Where he is?. Right here."

Dr. Darkstar was pointing at tubes and electrodes hanging freely in the air. SJ stared incredeously.

SJ: "Um, he really is chameleonized? I... I can't see him."
Darkstar: "Yes, strange is an understatement. There is more... Much more... I have examined his brain. Confusing signals. His emotions seem to go up and down but sometimes you get the impression he's just laughing all the time. Look in that tube."
SJ: "I won't go near him. He has no sense of humour."
OW: "Oh, come on! Just look. It's intersesting."

SMACjunkie went on to look.

SJ: "I don't see anything?"
Darkstar: "It's there. Look..."
SJ was getting angry: "No, it's just empty! His head's just empty? Vacuum. This is so grosse"
Darkstar: "NO... follow the other thin tube down there..."
SJ: "Man, there it is. That peanut's his brain?"
Darkstar smiled knowingly: "Yes, but what a thing! It has the brain activity of 300 forumers. Now that's incredible! Could you imagine what he could do to the forum when I brainwash and unleash him?"
OW: "You mean he is as smart as 300 forumers?"
Darkstar: "Unfortunately, no. But he has that much activity... And as OldWarrior implied, I don't think he really was plottting against you. Not even angry."
OW: "I can tell you he wasn't."

SMACjunkie was relieved.

SJ: "Sh*t, that's great. Can I go say hi to him? Will he respond?"
Darkstar: "Well, he's tranquilized... only half awake. But I think he can hear you."

SMAcjunkie got to where he knew Freddz was, searched with his hands in the air till he finally found and patted Freddz' head.
He put on his best smile.

SJ: "Friends then, Freddzie."

Freddz suddenly lobbed of SMACjunkie's head with a cable axe. SMACjunkie's body fell dead to the floor. The air where they knew Freddz was, was still again. Dr. Darkstar was shocked.

OW: "That was so awesome!"
Darkstar: "Wow! Man... Eh... SMACjunkie... deaddie... must have been a reflex. Sorry. Heh?"
OW: "Just awesome..."

Darkstar's lips curled agin with his most knowing smile. He turned to OldWarrior.

Darkstar: "No... just brilliant. I guess Freddz just did hate him and plotted against him all the time... Heh... I have just the right plan now. So, the droids failed me!!! This plan won't... Muhahahahaha....!!!"

CUT TO ELEVEN HOURS LATER:

OldWarrior and MichealtheGreat had watched Darkstar openeing Freddz skull and squeezing in SMACjunkie's head in there. Had almost been a science fiction experience, but so was Darkstar's lab. They both had helped by squeezing Freddz' nose, ears and mouth shut. It had been neccessary, of course, since Freddz' peanut brain had almost seemed like allergic to SJ's brain. It had nearly seemed as if it saw every hole out like an escape route, trying to squeeze out through ears and stuff. Now, when Dr. Darkstar was finished, his eyes gleamed madly.

Darkstar: "Now I have only to put on the switch in the Safety Chamber and the body will come alive... You better get in there now."

Mtg and OW were getting afraid.

MtG: "But how...?"
Darkstar: "I have wired each brain to one arm. They can't bloody strangle themselves to death, they have just too much survival instinct for that. One eye each. One leg each. They both control the head movement. Both have access to the tongue... Freddz have access to the mouth and SMACjunkie can speak through the nose if Freddz doesn't cooperate."
OW: "But why will this help your plan?"

Darkstar thrived in the stupidity of his friends.

"Don't you see? They hate each other so much! So wonderfully much! And since they can't kill themselves, they will have too much repressed anger, unhealthily much hate... Catastrophingly much dammit! And the only thing they can do is to go around and kill everyone else, even though, even though... they hate each other.! Muhahahaha... I'm brilliant! Yes, that's it! The forums will finally be mine! Nothing can stop this combo! Freddz chameleon powers and brain activity, together with the forums most disgusting newbie!"

Mtg and OldWarrior did finally understood and stumbled quickly into the Safety Chamber where they could watch from behind the ultra thick super safety glass. Dr. Darkstar followed them inside, locked the door and turned on the switch...

At first, the body moved violently the room, half visible, smashing equipment against the walls. Then it stood straight, appearantly thinking. From the speakers inside the room, the thoughts echoed...

Freddz(thinking): "Jusus, it's slimy in here... I have a headache."
SJ(thinking simultaneously): "Uncomfortable... where am I?"
Freddz(thinking): "Who's that?"
SJ(thinking): "Who's there?"

The body rumbled around uncontrollable as two wills fought which way to go, the head nervously shifting directions.

From the mouth: "Who's there dammit!!!"
From the nose: "Stop it! Freddz! What have you done!?"
From the mouth: "Where are ye, SMACflunkie. Just tell me... Noooo.... What have you done with me....?"

From inside the Safety room darkstar watched with interest.

Darkstar: Soon they will get the hang of it. And then they will start hating for real."

Freddz body stopped, its arms flapping mildly at the sides, both eyes stared through the glass right at Darkstar, focusing... Oldwarrior and MtG glanced nervously between Freddz body and Dr. Darkstar.

MtG: "Ehh, I think they are beginning to understand..."
OW: "Are you sure this super glass is safe enough...? Please tell me it is..."
Darkstar: "Don't worry, I have rubbed it in with Victor Galis sweat."

From the speaker's they confused thoughts sounded:

Thoughts(SJ and Freddz): Darkstar...? What has he got to do with this...? He... I see the reflection... Someone else is here as well... It must be...No... I can't move my eye?!!! My legssss!!! Noooooo!!! You??? I'm not alone!? Please tell me this is a nightmare!? It is! It is! No, no it isn't! NOT YOU???"

Darkstar contemplated: "We must have a name for them of course... Hmmm... Something fitting to my grand design... my killer machine... What about... SMACfreddzie... No... SMACenstein? Hmm... no... lets have it plain and simple... Dr. Darkstar's Monster!"

Tears ran down Dr. Darkstar's Monster's face. They were realizing the truth, hands taking turns in trying to strangle themselves and trying to stop the other... finally quitting and starting a few rounds of body bashing against the glass, mush to MtG's and OldWarrior's despair. Finally they quit, screaming...

Through the nose: "Nooooooooooooo!!!!"
Through the mouth(both): NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!"
MtG nervously: "That's it, they know. They really know..."

Through the nose the terrible nasal sound came again: Um, you know Freddz, I've always liked you... Promise..."
Freddz(thinking): Bastard liar!! I can hear what ye are thinking, ye twit! Gagh!"
SJ(nose): "What now, mini brain?"
Freddz: "What you mean, what now!!!? You idiot! You blob of fat for a brain, lets go into camoflage and kill of some hundred forumers. I'm getting furiouuuss!!! That's probably his plan, anyway! Idiot! That Darkstar sh*thole who did this! Lets make this boring thread worthwhile finally. Mmmmm stop messing....wthrith mhgyyy tongue..."
SJ(nose): Shut up, you bastard idiot! Lets go then, try coordinate your leg this time! Stupid freak!!"

SMACenstein started walking, stumbling out the exit into the corridor.

Nose: "Left!"
Mouth: "Right, idiot!"
Nose: "Left!!!!"
Mouth: "Shut up! Riiiiggght!!!!"
Nose: "Idiot! Veteran slime!"

The body fell to the floor, the legs going into a split. The hands started to clutch at the throat.

Nose and mouth: "Kill...mmmm...killl...Gaghh....!"

From inside the room, Darkstar smiled.

posted 06-30-99 02:59 PM ET            

But why?

Why would MtG do it?

Was MtG acting on Nell's behalf as he should, or did Darkstar actually reign him in? Or, shudder to think, was it acting on it's own behalf? Could there be an unknown player at large? Sid Meier? Nah, that imbecile couldn't program a decent game if his life depended on it. He got lucky with one. It couldn't happen again. But he would be nobody's pawn. Trippin then vowed to charbroil those who sought to control him.

He then realized his situation. He was tied up in a chair. By Rimmer, ****ing Rimmer of all people! Then he felt a slight snap in his wrist, out popped a lil swiss army knife. He was like ****ing MacGuyver now. With his drug induced inventiveness and this lil knife, nothing could stop him. He thanked MtG for that. Trippin then went away at the bonds with that lil' saw on that beautifully shimmering red swiss army knife.

SNAP!

SNAP!

The bonds where broken. He was free. The fools would learn the punishment for such doing such an act to an agent of N.E.L.L. But not now.
"Now's not the time." he thought. Trippin walked to the window wondering what other secrets lay hidden in his body. "Hmmm, maybe a roach clip?" "Or a cellophane pouch?" He then realized, to his satisfaction, that he had both! MtG had equipped him for some serious fighting. But for whom? He still did not know.

He then reached the window, he open it. Calmly stepped out of it and off of it. He then started to fall. Trippin calmly licked to palette of his mouth. Acid trickeled onto his tongue. "The ground is a sponge" Trip' calmly thought. Then Trip' hit the ground.

It was hard. But only to the outside observer. To Trippin Daily, that ground was a sponge. He felt no pain, he even felt a great rush of adrenaline as he bounced up from the fall. Trippin then looked up. 30 stories up he could bairly see that hairy hemordial asshole Rimmer shaking his fist in anger.

Trippin then laughed. He was his own man now, nobody owned him. He would not be used as anybody's bitch. He as of now had pledged allegiance to Nell, but that was because she was his British techno pedeller, and a kewl one at that. So he served the Rave Queen for they had common goals. Goals which the ignorant would fail to see.

But there were greater needs to attend to before he could go search for Nell. He was horny due to the X. He then remembered the holovid's of HelloKity's pursuit of SJ on Hard Copy. He remembered that beautiful body. She would do nicely. She also had a great personality too. Was she in town? He would soon find out.
(no offense to you meant hellokity, if I offended you, I apologize right now)

posted 06-30-99 04:39 PM ET            

Sitting down on the floor Kitty removed her cloths and put in a Tori Amos CD. She had to concentrate. She had to locate Nell and warn her. Kitty sensed great danger from Nell's abductior but she couldn't quite place the name. She had to send a message in the form of a dream.

Sitting there she saw the dream begin to form. But something was wrong. She looked down to see herself clothed, she always was nude in dream sequences! Looking across a familiar smelling room she could see Nell. She tried to speak a warning but the words were not her own. Instead something about the chosen one came out, and training garments. Kitty stood horrified behind a mask of stone watching dozens of sweaty muscular dwarves remove thier shirts. YUCK. Struggling with all her will she broke the dream.

She awoke on the floor covered in sweat. Someone very powerful had tampered with her message. Weakened she fell asleep right there.

Suddenly Kitty's eyes bolted wide open and using all of her training and speed just barely made it to the toilet to spew forth a bloody mass of vomit.

She had accidentally picked up on Tripp's thoughts about her. GROSS. She wondered if she would ever feel clean again.

posted 07-02-99 12:29 AM ET            

JAMiAM: Man, this place has really gone downhill! Why doesn't Aredhran fix up this dive?

Goob: You didn't hear? He lost it in a poker game to cousLee, right before he joined the monastary.

JAMiAM: Aredhran joined the monastary?

Goob: No, you idiot, cousLee did.

JAMiAM: You got to be kidding me, The General, a monk? That's rich! Well, if he's such a holy man these days, why does he let all of this go on? Not that I mind, I have seen such a fine display of lapdancing since Nell left town.

Goob: <suddenly serious> It is no coincidence that you should mention Nell. She is at the center of all the recent disturbances in... <whispering and glancing nervously about> ...The Farce.

JAMiAM: The Farce? You still believe in that crazy stuff? I thought that bizarre doctrine of Aristotilean humours espoused by Jedi Mel Brooks was disproved when Zakharov finally proved the Theory of Everything and made that breakthrough in Singularity Mechanics. Seriously, the thought of good natured kidding, bad puns and slapstick being the foundations of the universe was too bizarre, even for me in my most drugged out days.

Goob: That was just the public doctrine, JAM. The secret teachings survived among a small group of dedicated acolytes. You never got past the third level, which was a shame. You had such potential. Before you started squandering your energies in the hedonistic pursuit of women.

JAMiAM: What? You mean there was more to the teachings than the Jedi foot rub?

Goob: Much more. The Jedi foot rub is a "gateway" technique.

JAMiAM: A gateway technique?

Goob: Yes, it is the technique that determines whether one continues to follow the way of The Farce or is distracted by the mundane pleasuring of others and thereby abandoning the more rigorous training to come. Most do not proceed past this point in their training.

JAMiAM: You mean I missed out on more advanced techniques?

Goob: No, you lecher, you missed out on my point. There is more to The Farce than you and your four trollops reaching a five way simultaneous orgasm.

JAMiAM: What?!?!? Who told you? Have you been spying on me again?

Goob: One who is in tune with The Farce can see many things, predict the future, we can.

At that instant Goob, in a lightning quick motion stabbed his finger down into the oak table top, leaving an indentation 5mm deep.

JAMiAM: Geez, Goob. What ever possessed you to do that?

Goob: Wasn't that fly irritating you?

JAMiAM: What fl...

Just then a horsefly the size of a bumblebee buzzed by JAM's ear then alighted in the very spot on the table that Goob had just finger punched. It then exploded in a gooey mess of fly detritus.

JAMiAM: Wow!!! That was cool! How'd you know?

Goob: As Jedi Henny Youngman used to say, "It's all in the timing." Now, we must talk about graver things. The balance of the Universe is askew and Nell is the key.

JAMiAM: Nell and I, are... well... Let's just say that I would prefer not to get involved with her anymore. Not since we were...

At that moment a large explosion from outside the base shook the compound from one end to another. Looking out the 1.5 meter thick, Plasma reinforced, TriKevlar Polycarbonate blast window, they saw that where the Hybrid Conifer Forest once stood, a vast patch of xenofungus had sprung up. And, in the middle of this, a 200 meter tall obelisk, glowing phosphorescent green, protruded angrily. It was not there before. And, Goob and JAMiAM both felt as though it was watching them...

posted 07-02-99 01:36 PM ET            

Silence. Darkness. Emptiness. Even in the Recreation Room, where only an hour before all had been chaos as Jedi candidate #475 discovered that, if anything, RQ MkII was WORSE than her predecessor, all was peaceful.

The hologram slept, her body and her fiendish lusts temporarily sated but her mind ever hungry, still active, still processing, subconsciously working out what had gone wrong with the Plan... how it could be fixed...

The hologram dreamed.

*****

Somewhere on a palm-fringed shore, a crazed HelloKitty prowled in search of manthings. Yes, she would rend them limb from limb, torment them beyond all imagining, staple copies of Playboy to their earlobes, dress up in her best latex miniskirt and her tightest t-shirt, and then knock them out with one swing of her mighty breasts... yes, she would do all that, and more... she would taunt them with their inadequacy, with their inability to possess her, she who was their ultimate fantasy... she would superglue them to the ceiling and throw headless Barbies at them, she would make them stand on one leg in vats of cream, she would fire them out of the window on long pieces of elastic and laugh as they rebounded into the side of the house... she would stand before them, all but naked, watching them writhe in their desperation to reach her, to bend her to their will... and she would laugh as they spontaneously combusted in agonies of frustration. Yes. Life was good...

Somewhere else, somewhere hot and steamy, where acres of dry ice swirled, coloured lasers pierced the darkness in mystical patterns, and glorious music throbbed loud enough to drown the most vivid memories of Sid Meier droids and CtP orgies, a young man danced. His eyes were bright and he cleared a 12-foot space round him on the dancefloor by swinging a massive flamer round his head. He was all power, all happiness, all ecstasy... and completely off his nut. But he knew that this is what his Rave Queen would have wanted for him... this was where he belonged. He could save N.E.L.L. later, but for now, just one more tune, just one more dance, just one more of everything...

Somewhere else again, a monstrous creature lurched through a clean and clinically white room, alternately hitting itself on the head with plastic chairs and ripping posters off the wall with which to hit other people on the head. The creature ranted and raved, now calling itself a "****witted son of a Miriam-loving Commie Veteran scumbag", now accusing itself of being a "worthless piece of Newbie **** who couldn't win a game on Librarian level if his life depended on it". Screaming with impotent rage, the creature seized several gerbils from a nearby cage and began ramming them up its nose in a vain attempt to silence one of its two, equally insane, voices, then changed tactics and, spotting a handy fishtank, grabbed a large catfish and tried to jam the fish down its throat to muffle the other voice. Startled onlookers gawped in horror as the monster made a quite passable attempt at poking one of its brains out with a biro, but then the air reverberated to the tones of an authoritative voice which intoned:
"Mr Renn Oldz? Please put the fish down. The dentist will see you now."

The dream swirled again, to a homely shack somewhere in the Deep South, where a man sat on the porch, drinking real lemonade and watching the corn growing as high as an elephant's eye. Those had been the days... yes... when he had outwitted the most evil thing ever to strike at the heart of the SMAC forums, that abomination, that offence in the sight of God, that... that... WOMAN! He twitched and made an involuntary move to brush some imaginary thing away from his ear, but stopped himself in time. It was just a memory, just a reflex... perhaps one day that memory would fade... perhaps one day he would be able to free his mind of those mad staring eyes, that crazed expression, that enormous Captain Haddock beard... no, hang on, he was looking at his reflection in the side of his chromed pick-up truck again... ah yes, those mad staring FEMALE eyes, that crazed WOMAN's expression, that smoke, everywhere, smoke... and ants... the ants were everywhere...

Now the dream became very confused... two men who spoke in code... the Farce was with them, but it seemed to have become a means of keeping the local insect population down rather than restoring balance to the universe... although on the other hand, a large-ish horsefly would probably be more dangerous to the universe's equilibrium than the notorious Dork Maul and his amazing comedy act, "Watch Me Saw The Bad Guy In Half Oops I AM The Bad Guy Oh Dear Errr For My Next Trick..." One of the men looked vaguely familiar... from a long time ago... couldn't place him, though... he was from one of the original RQ memories that had been classified and the hologram couldn't access it... but it had something to do with feet... or Jedi-hood... or maybe both... come to think of it, both of these guys would look kinda cute in the offical robes... maybe this dream is gonna get interesting after all... no! no! get out of my dream! we're getting to the good bit! go away, you... you... who are you?... WHAT are you????...

... and now the dream soared into nightmare, as the MtG chip invaded the hologram's creative circuits, imposing its irresistible will upon hers, reaching into her neural nets, a faceless all-encompassing presence, a small offshoot of a vast and insidious web spanning the globe and beyond, a blur of computations running faster than the speed of light, turning theoretical physics on its head and warping the very fabric of space and time in its never-ending quest to have more PBEM games running than anyone else in the history of SMAC... MtG would never be satisfied, now that it had been restored to full operational status... the tiny fraction of its processing power that was occupied in maintaining the coherence of all matter in the known universe (while also managing to keep up an average forum rate of 6.8 posts per millisecond) was as nothing compared with its full potential... in its sheer boredom, it had even resorted to playing real-life SMAC... >POP< a monolith here... >POP< a monolith there... no, it was no good, even that was boring... MtG began to wonder if anything, anything at all, would be able to fully utilise its vast computational power and stave off the utter boredom of being AI-live... what on earth did those humans see in it?... and then MtG's all-seeing eye turned to the hologram... the new and vulnerable decoy RQ... and in her dream, the hologram felt the uncomfortable sensation of something invading her very being, violating her innermost self, simultaneously taking her apart, putting her back together again, and, in the process, completely reversing all her electrical polarities... almost as bad as watching Cheech and Chong movies without being stoned...

*****

The Commlink buzzer, shrieking through her dreams, woke the hologram instantly. Narrowly avoiding falling over the heap of used Jedi candidates on the floor, she reached the screen and waited while an image shuddered into view.
"RQ?" said the deep voice, which sounded familiar, but not quite right. The hologram paused to light up a 12" Havana cigar, hand-rolled on the thighs of Lurkers with nothing better to do, and waited for the grainy image to resolve itself.
"RQ? So sorry to bother you... I need your help again." The hologram scrutinised the face... and the second face that was resolving itself beside it. Odd... familiar, but not familiar...
"Anyway. RQ... it's me... we need you to help us with a little problem that's developed over in the Newbie Terrorists thread... the Vets are under attack by the evil Newbies... it's got right out of hand... can't you do that thing where you wave your hand at them and offer them 20,000 Republican Credits in exchange for their helicopter?"
The hologram laughed when she realised who she was talking to.
"Victor! What the hell are you playing at?" The face on the screen registered momentary panic, then turned to the second face, seeking reassurance.
"Errrr, Victor? No, no, it's your old mate God here, don't you remember me? And look... here's Post-Transcendent Archangel Yin! Errr, doesn't that prove it?" The hologram fell over sideways laughing, luckily stubbing the cigar out on a still-conscious almost-Jedi in the process... that would save a bit of time later on.
"You're killing me! Take that stupid false beard off! And since when has PTA Yin gone around carrying a teddy-bear and wearing a Superman outfit? Imran, get off my Commlink, and take Victor and his plastic halo with you! Wow, you guys could at least have done a bit of background research before trying it on! Nice one, though... haven't laughed so much since H.A.R.D.M.A.N. fell into the fungal vortex..." Reaching forward, she pressed the Commlink's OFF switch and, still laughing, went in search of answers to many questions...

In the corner of the Recreation Room, a small, unassuming grey box, covered in dust from long disuse, stuttered into life. Nobody was there to see it, but the lowly Sony Playstation, N.E.L.L.'s one failsafe backup plan and its sole defence against the monstrous treason that was being perpetrated against it by its own CPU, began its long-awaited initialisation sequence. It existed all alone and was connected to no part of the global network: many years ago, before RQ had gone over to the Dark Side, when N.E.L.L. was still a Farce for good on the forums and Jedi candidates were honoured rather than macerated, the Playstation had been set up as an emergency warning device, designed to prevent any attacks on N.E.L.L. So lowly was this little Playstation that nobody had bothered to connect it to the COMSAT network that provided N.E.L.L. with its infinite global coverage, and it wasn't even plugged into the mains, being powered by one geriatric hamster on a treadmill. This humble piece of Japanese plastic was so far removed from Octium MCMXVIII chips as to be beneath the notice of the Great Evil Doctor Darkstar, and even of the Probably Just As Great But I'm Not Getting Drawn Into That But Definitely Just As Evil MtG Chip. The one function of the Playstation was to wait, each day, for the "all-clear" code, which took the form of RQ kicking it and shouting "Spyro the Dragon Sucks!!". If but once this daily signal were not received, then it would be time for the little Playstation to fulfil its destiny, to muster its tiny brain and rally its cheap and tacky circuitry in the defence of its beloved owner. The hour had passed. The signal had not come. On the Playstation's battered little LCD screen, borrowed from a pocket calculator and stuck on with sellotape, there flashed a simple message:
"N.E.L.L. is in trouble. Help help help help help Trademark Of Sony Entertainment Corporation...."

But nobody was there to see, and the heroic little Playstation flashed its desperate message in vain, or so it seemed...

*****

Far away, in both time and space, RQ awoke from a terrifying dream... a dream of being surrounded by short sweaty men with no talent, too many clothes and no apparent purpose... for a moment she almost forgot where she was, imagining herself to be back with the original batch of Jedi candidates (wow, had THEY been a mistake!)... but then she opened her eyes to the stark but impressive sweep of the ravine, and she remembered what had happened, though it hardly made much sense, beautiful though it was. She was in a foreign land; so foreign that she seemed to be starting to forget who she was and where she had come from, and why... and what she had been doing before? In her dream, someone friendly and familiar had saved her from a frightful fate (and a bad attack of alliteration)... HallowedCatty? HillyCattle? HolyKitOff? No... who was it? Someone she had once been very close to... had been linked to... someone who wanted to help her... and now the link was gone... and in its place... an emptiness.

RQ glanced up at the tall man standing beside her, silhouetted in the tawny evening light as the sun sank behind the bitter mountain peaks... in the twilight, little could be seen of him except his eyes, always his eyes, holding her in his gaze... she looked into those other-worldly green eyes and was irredeemably lost. How did he have the ability to rob her of her very thoughts? Not even MtG had had such strange powers... And was this stranger here to help her? Should she try to find her way home, or let herself trust the stranger, let him take her onwards in this strange world?

There was something, something she should be remembering... something she was supposed to be doing... but the soft voice of the Ranger, barely audible over the sweet rush of the waterfall, lulled her mind and she could not remember... drowsy though she was, she thought heard him whispering to her, reciting a poem she had known and loved, long, long ago it seemed, in another time, in another world...

posted 07-02-99 06:19 PM ET            

One of the Guardians started flashing a small green light. He worked the small emerald in his earring, back and forth. The small green light danced across Nell's eyes. Suddenly, she opened her eyes fully. The green reflection somehow combined with the other strange highlights that danced there giving her the look of Death Raved Over. A wicked half grin spread lazily across her face at seeing the shock on Ranger H's face.

Queen Nell: "Thank you, Ranger H. I had no idea you had such Jedi potential. I will have you spared, so that I might test you more fully, at my leisure."

Aredhran: "No. It can't be!"

Queen Nell: "Resistance is futile. You will be assimilated. Attack, my Ravers!"

The "Dwarf" threw his earring at his Queen. As it flew through the air, a Dimensional Gateway opened around it. Through the gateway, jumped the elite nihilistic and ecstatic hoards of the Rave Queens forces... Moshers... Dancers... Spinners... Kickers... Wannabe Metal Rockers dressed as teen vampires... Teen Vampires dressed as Metal Rockers... Young 20s filled with the rage of being too young to know how to do what they have waited all their lives to reach "adulthood"... Young adolescents caught up in the frustrations of there growing awareness of the complications of growing up and its even further silly distinctions in life, and powerless to stop from joining into the races and becoming just another part of the problem...

Queen Nell's forces were Legion. Immortal in Spirit. Powerful in its Rage. And filled with the unstoppable power of Life itself.

Nell laughed a pure light laugh as the bands walked through, and started to play. A Rave broke out around the band. Grabbing the absolutely horror bespelled Ranger H, Nell dragged him into the heart of the spreading Maelstrom of the Rave.

Upon seeing the invasion of their Realm, the Dwarves raised their Battle Cry. "To Arms! To Arms! Rally Around the Banner! To Arms! To Arms!" They grabbed their weapons and gathered around their most beloved of banners. Drummers started the Legendary Songs "Of Blood And Harth", and the pipers joined in. They marched as one. Hundreds... thousands... all in step. All dressed in their hastily grabbed arms and armor of the Harth. They looked as if Rock had dressed itself in Metal, so hard was their faces. So hard were their hearts. They would turn back these invaders. They were the Guardians. They could do no less. They lived to do no more. They marched. Their Drummers drummed. Their Pipers Played. Their Bannermen song their people's song of Battle.

The front ranks of dwarves met the Raving forces of the Queen, and parted them like water. The cries of pain, of anger, of rage... of the music's themselves, battled. The Dwarves pressed harder, walking over the fallen with only a glance to make sure that those fallen they tread on breathed no more. And the Great Raving Host fell back...

Aredhran's heart began to fill with hope, and anger. "Give up Nell! The Guardians are unbeatable here! This place is in their bones, and they gather their strength from it. They cannot lose! Surrender now, and we will be merciful. Think of the lives that would be spared!"

Nell smiled as she danced. "My dear little Red one... you do not have any understanding of the Rave. This place is ours now." And Aredhran saw something he could not believe...

The Guardians had reached the Moshers... and for every Mosher put down, another arose or joined from the swirling mass of Ravers around them. While the Moshers themselves did not seem to be killing his beloved battle brothers, occasionally a Dwarven Guardian would arise AND ATTACK HIS BROTHERS. The Great Rave Storm was drawing the strength of the Guardians... to fight the Guardians!

"NO!" Screamed Aredhran. Finally, Nell's horrific spell was broken. He pulled his weapons so fast, the seemed to merely BE in his hands. Aredhran dived into the heart of the Pit to save his beloved companions. The Pit closed over him...

Nell shook her head, and continued to Rave. There was no stopping a Rave once it reached this strength. She jumped, spun, and screamed her joy. Yes, there was no RESISTING a Rave this strong. She danced along, letting the beating bass carry her... this place was theirs now. Aredhran would soon stop resisting and be theirs as well.
She bumped into Trippin Daily.

"Great going Trip!" She screamed to be heard. Trip was pushing her over slightly, standing as close as he could to here his friend. "What took you so long?" She asked at the top of her lungs.

"It took longer than we thought to locate this nexus. It wasn't in a Middle Earth related forum. It's hidden behind an Alta Vista server. I had a hell of a time keeping them together long enough and not letting the Rave go properly." He screamed back. His voice was almost swallowed by the beat, making it almost impossible for Nell to hear him despite the fact that his lips were brushing Nell's left ear.

"You did great! And are the others distracted by the 9 clones we sent out?"

The Rave intensified. The very ground shook with the beat. Trippin nodded. He knew that she would never be able to hear him now. Hell, none of them would be hearing very much after this Rave for a little while. Maybe after they slept for a few days afterward...

Trippin Daily still felt badly for his three clones that were being so hard used. If Nell hadn't convinced him it was so necessary... and that she would cut off ALL his Techno suppliers... and get him black-listed so that he would never be able to Rave again. That Nell was a hard one...

*Necessary or not, I'll see they get their revenge* he thought. And then thought no more, as the music overwhelmed him. Over whelmed them all...

Soon, the Forces of Nell were in absolute command of the Realm.

posted 07-02-99 11:57 PM ET         

It was a deviously simple program. One that could write infinte loops in basic with relative ease. ;-) But right now, it had only one goal in mind, the extermination of N.E.L.L. Trippin would not let his Rave Goddess fall to a measly FIRAXIS program. It was probably an old Civ 2 clone with a new caviar image on top of itself. That meant it was stupid and predictable. Trippin now knew he had the upper hand.

Jmorris closed in. He pointed his hand at Trip. "Get over here," Jmorris roared. All of a sudden, AAA transport foils flew from his fingertips. Bombarding Trip, trying to carry him piece by piece to jmorris. Trippin was prepared. he smaced his arms together hard as he could. The two heroin packs MtG had equipped him with ruptured. Immediately he was feeling pure join. He fell flat on his face immediately, the AAA transport foils flew over him harmlessly.

Jmorris was puzzled at this move. Trip avoided the AAA foils, but now he lay comatose on the floor of a huge Rave. WHOOOOOOOOOSHH!!!! jmorris never even had a chance to realize what had hit him. Trip's clone, Junkie Running Dry had grabbed trippin's notorious flamer and friend him to cinders. Nell and Junkie then ran over to trip... seeing Trip was alright.. just a lil constipated, immobile, and horny at the moment from the heroin (I have never done the drug by the way). Junkie and Nell knew that they had to get Trip out of the forums though. It was slowly sapping away his energy. Sid must have been at work... He actually wrote a NEW program to drain the energy from forumers. And Trippin was its first target. Nell and Junkie brought trip to the firewall. It was an MS wall. Nell had it down in seconds... it was easier than disab;ing that active desktop for her.

Trippin was now out. He was dazed. But he was alive, yes, yes he was. He would have his revenge. He then loaded up program BBBB. His clone would assimilate into him.. his clone had no choice, for Trippin was at the Hex Editor, and Big bad Blah Boss was at Trip's mercy. Trip was sad to wipe one of his clones, but it was for the greater good. He had to take BBBB's place... and become trippin through BBBB. Would it work, yes. How long would it last? Trippin could only guess.

His Rave Queen was safe though, that was what mattered. He now had to contact Darkstar. For Darkstar held the key to Nell's safety. For Darkstar held the Bombtrack virus. A program so unique that it was disguised as a RATM song for added security. Could he contact Darkstar in time to use it. Would he save the Rave Queen before turn 200. If he got the virus, he would. Until then though, Trippin had only two weapons, his vulgar mouth, and his 58 barrels of flaming fun. Would that be enough for now?

posted 07-03-99 07:25 PM ET            

His experienced slashes were so swift and his movements so smooth, he cut though the sea of hapless ravers, dead bodies falling to the shaking floor, guts spilling, lungs pierced, head rolling. He hated all this blood and violence, but this Anasyma was a cruel place, and sometimes there were just no other ways of dealing with a situation.

The mighty Ranger was getting closer to the Dwarves now, but the fight was becoming harder. He was now fighting the possessed Dwarves, his friends� He could not resolve himself to use his weapons to their full potential; the thought of harming them was too difficult to bear. He hit them with the flat of his blades instead, knocking them out, their bodies falling around him. Even in their trance, the Guardians were fierce fighters and he was now struggling, facing four axe-wielding opponents, hardly keeping them at bay. His mind was racing� If Allusayr the Elven sorceress were here, she would know how to deal with this evil magic that seems to hold the�

His movements were so quick, it seemed like a blur of sharp steel was surrounding the young Ranger. The slower Dwarves took a step back away from the fury. Pressing his advantage, Aredhran lunged and smacked one of his opponents with the hilt of his long sword. As the sword hit its target, Aredhran recognized Dulak Bottlebreaker, one of Baron Norin Hammerfast�s commanders. He knew he was now facing the Dwarven Elite guard�

Dulak�s body had not even touched the ground that already it had already been replaced by three more Dwarves, wearing the uniform of the Baron�s Guard. This time, the man knew he was overmatched. He could probably take on one, maybe two of these battle-axe warriors, but this was an entirely different story. Losing ground, he was now spending all his efforts parrying the mighty blows from his opponents. The Ranger was hit multiple times, but they were just minor cuts and he tried to ignore the pain.

From high above, a piercing shriek reached his ears, above the clamor of the battle. Alcyon� he had forgotten about him, so intent was he on the Rave Queen and later the battle. Calling upon the mindlink that united him with the faithful falcon, he sent out a thought� �Deroghan� Go fetch Deroghan�. The bird shrieked once in acknowledgement and dashed to the south, towards the Archmage�s tower.

Suddenly, an opening, a long thrust with the long sword and one of the Dwarves fell to the ground, his neck pierced, blood gushing out of the severed carotid artery. One of his opponents retaliated with a powerful swing of his axe. Desperately twisting his body to avoid the blow, Aredhran managed to avoid a fatal hit, but the axe blade bit deep into his right forearm. The Mage will never make it in time�

The unearthly music was still beating, even harder than before if such a thing was possible. The ground was shaking so violently, it almost felt like an earthquake. So loud was the noise that his ears were crackling. Loud noise? That was it! He knew what to do� All he needed was a short respite. Sheathing his long sword, he grabbed the closest Dwarf�s arm and threw him at the other opponents. Two of them fell, and the others nimbly jumped to the side. These two seconds were all Aredhran needed. He grasped the Sword of Klyne�s handle with both hands, and focused his mind on the blade�s secret power. He did not use it much, because of the danger involved, but there was no alternative�

The Sword�s low hum quickly increased in frequency and intensity, and soon the vibration became so loud that it completely drowned the Techno beat. It sounded like the blade was shrieking! The dwarves dropped their battle-axes and pressed their hands against their ears, but it was no use. The sound was drilling through their brains and they fell to the floor, knocked unconscious by Klyne�s magic.

Aredhran focused all his energy into the sword, willing the shrill sound to become even louder. The wave was spreading in circles around him, stifling the booming Techno music, and sending all the ravers to the floor, clutching their ears. Finally, the sound reached Nell, who was dancing and turning like a Dervish, oblivious to the turning of the tide.

As Klyne�s Shriek drowned the Rave�s heartbeat, the Queen stopped dancing and, with a horrified look on her face as she realized what had transpired, she fell to the ground, unconscious. As the Queen�s presence vanished, one of the dancers disappeared like he had come, followed by another, and another, and ten, twenty fifty more� A moment later, the battleground was empty, except for the unconscious Dwarves, and more than a few wounded or dead.

posted 07-04-99 07:01 AM ET            

"Can't get any peace these days, take a week off to vegetate and watch Wimbledon, and what happens, �. Ah well back to the grind"

posted 07-05-99 10:58 AM ET            

He was helping Aredhran to his feet, as a surge of power flared behind them, quickly turning it was easy to see why. Where the "NELL" had been was totally bare, no grass, no Stones, and no "NELL". (After all it was a rave)
Reaching into an average sized bumbag he withdrew a flask. "Here drink some of this, it should give you a lift"
Aredhran drank deeply and with relish, "Diamondraught long since I've had that"

WoA�."Are you all right"
Aredhran�."Other than a church belfry ringing Matins in my ears, Now I am"

posted 07-06-99 04:53 AM ET            

Meanwhile, in a Void, a home of the Lurkers, the true location unknown save to the few, a Lurker came before The Council.

From the Darkness a Voice came, the Voice that gave the will of The Council, "Jestar, come forth"

The Lurker, known as Jestar, came forth, his Zahkarov style glasses could not hide the fear he felt, "Y-Yes-s?"

"The Council has seen a disturbance in the Forums, and this must be rectified. You have been a lurker for but a few weeks, correct?"

"Yes-s... But w-why?"

The Voice seemed to boom, silencing any thought of rebellion, the Council and the Voice were strong enough to control the Lurkers, they could easily terminate Jestar, "You have been chosen. You will go and deal with this Nell, as well as the other forces gathered at this thread."

Jestar was on the verge of weeping, "Must I?"

"Yes!"

Jestar struggled to maintain his composure. He was, after all, a Lurker, although he will be one no more...
---
---
Later, Jestar had his equipment, including a genuine Lurker (tm) Semi-Automatic. As he left, a tear broke, the only one since he started, for he may never find the Void again. He steeled himself against the idea, and set forth onto the shuttle to take him away. He reflected back while descending to the planet below.

Jestar debarked minutes later, in the middle of the forest, Lurker technology was great, but he would have precious little of the anemities he had in the Void. He began recording as the shuttle lifted off, the pilot to return to the Void.
---
---
Hours later Jestar walked into a bar, The Borehole. He really wanted a Starbucks, or even a Ruins Coffee. He was a stimulant person, caffine was his big thing. He looked around, the place was crawling with mindless newbies, all except one place, a booth with a dark sense of emptyness. He knew that, it must be a lurker, though he wondered why it wasn't in the Void. He came to it.

The Shadow spoke, recognizing a fellow lurker, he was apparently a Great, "What do you want?"

Jestar spoke, confidence now, in a land of posters, "I need to know where I can get information on this Nell."

The Shadow slid a datapad to Jestar and said, "Everything you need to know about Nell. Follow the Instructions."
---
---
Jestar walked out and followed the route to the other city, there was a brit pub he was supposed to meet a contact at. As he walked a hair prickled on the back of his neck. No Lurker would go to this type of place, he must be meeting a regular.

He looked around, and saw the card on the table, but not the person, it was a booth. The pub was all but deserted, no one seemed especially dangerous, although something seemed out of whack. He advanced towards to booth.

A few steps away he caught site of the one awaiting... and recoiled. The contact was some thug, a gun at his side, it must be a trap. As Jestar reached for his gun several people came up, guns trained on him. Any move would mean the end of Jestar. At least The Council was getting this. His gun was taken.

The Shadow he had seen earlier came into the light, an expression of suprise appeared on Jestar's face. To be found and intercepted was one thing, but to be betrayed and taken by a fellow Lurker...

The Shadow moved as if to press against his arm, and he shimmered. A watch-like device appeared, and the Shadow was no more. A man appeared, though his face was still unable to be seen.

The man spoke, "The Council could have chosen better. Nonetheless, you have potential, you may be helpful. Follow me." The man smiled a smile that would put a member of The Council at their nerves and walked out the back door. One of the thugs bound Jestar's hands and led him forward.

posted 07-08-99 03:42 AM ET            

(Curiously, and despite at least some attempt by the designer to avoid it, the ship bore all the hallmarks of a SR-71 Blackbird - a mach three capable 20th century americian spy plane. Despite alternative offers of vastly superior transport - for instance an Iain Banks Excession sphere - Shining had insisted on this point. It was no good to be impersonating a lucasfilm character, however crassly, without the appropriate effects, he maintained.)

Dark Shining stepped down from the walkway, his arms folded over his chest. He surveryed the battle with a frown - slain dwarves and dragons were the signs of either the obsessed or the unimaginitive. He suspected it was the former.

He sensed another mind nearby, but one that posed no threat, at least until further, er... investigation. He instructions had been clear. "Track down the queen, and bring her back. Alive. And - this time - *please* - at least try to avoid being cut in half."

posted 07-08-99 04:13 PM ET            

If you don't join

The END