[Why on earth I wrote this, I don't know. I wrote it in a few spare moments of free time, and after reading it, UndertheMoon has impositioned me to post it. I was initially not going to but... Anyway, it's not particularly amusing. Just ludicrous. Please, comment]
'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring... "Bah! Humbug!", cried UndertheMoon, as the latest folder sailed through the open window on its brief foray into the depths of the otherwise "silent" night (scavenging paper-pickers thought UndertheMoon's house the best thing since sliced bread, giving them the material for a four tonne round each morning). Evidently, the latest chapter of "Chain of Souls" was proving troublesome. UndertheMoon sighed, accepting the proffered pen (a hazardous task for the people of the nearby village, who drew lots each morning for the unwelcome opportunity), and began to scribble, his arm moving fervently across the paper in loops of UtM's incomprehensible handwriting. The unfortunate villager, by now used to the wiles of UndertheMoon's devilish paper-hurling, dashed to the window as UndertheMoon glanced back down at the sheet of paper, clenched it into a ball, and ominously (and with unerring precision) aimed it out into the night sky. Parallo, the unfortunate bumpkin chosen for the nightly ritual, had been forced into the rural countryside of UndertheMoon's village ever since his mother had slyly bartered him for a sack of blighted potatoes.
It was going to be a long night.
Sitting at his equally unfortunate computer, UndertheMoon began to type his new story. Chain of Souls had been deleted for a new, modernist, tale, involving his protagonist, "The Chosen One", a party of misfit sidekicks, and a Dark Lord (TM). Taking inspiration (very well, stealing) from his PlaneShift experiences (again, an assortment of invariably unpleasant occurances, meetings, and events), he named it Duraza. All the elements for a good modernist story. Unbeknownst to him, such an invocation of a...
UndertheMoon: xD
Unbeknownst, I said. You can't know it. It's called narrative flow – willing (yes, or unwilling) suspension of belief for my amusement. Anyway, as I was saying, unbeknownst to UndertheMoon, such an invocation of this literary stereotype would doom the world of PlaneShift to a hideous life of corporate ineffa...
UndertheMoon: xD
...Bility. Anyway, UndertheMoon, overcome by remorse...
UndertheMoon: Har.
I said, overcome by remorse at his horrific deeds. I said, UndertheMoon, overcome by remorse...
UndertheMoon: So, if I am talking to you, who is being written by a further you, am I really you? Are you really yo…
<UndertheMoon has been forcibly disconnected from IRC>
Remorse, abandoned PlaneShift. And be quiet! Capisce?
UndertheMoon: Italian is not a language recognised or otherwise interpreted within the Planeshift universe, and would not have survived the translation to Yliakum fro...
Quiet.
PlaneShift, meanwhile, had fared badly under the terrors that UndertheMoon had unknowingly unleashed. Temporarily saved from its hideous fate by Eathon (in a noble, verily sublime act of transcending…), patron saint of homicidal maniacs - under his morally dubious patronage, the game soon began to falter once more, falling into ever greater depths of depravity. UndertheMoon!
UndertheMoon: o/
UndertheMoon, sucked from his refuge of festive ignorance, was forcibly (and brutally) deposited within this world that he had made for himself. Unbeknownst,
UndertheMoon: You're getting a little repetitive here
Unbeknownst, UndertheMoon, unbeknownst to him, an agent of a far greater (and much less amiable than this kindly narrator that has in all haste endeavored to aid an ungrateful Moon) power of which the narrator shall certainly not wax eloquent, was proceeding with all haste to join him.
UndertheMoon was deposited upon a large grassy expanse, blurred strangely where textures had not yet loaded or had been renamed in some hallucinogenic frenzy of the server admin, chiefly derived from consumption of some of Levrus' more peculiar potions. Before him, towering even into the pixcellated sky, was a gigantic and hideous edifice, which was, if one had a mind fully qualified to imagine this sort of thing, the sort of half-breed offspring derived from a homicidal termite and a rather terrified sheep. Made entirely of piled concrete boulders and construction signs, a rather disturbing banner hung limply from its highest turret. "PlaneShift celebrates 1st birthday since 1.00!!!!1111". Frowning at an earlier thought, UndertheMoon looked around in horror - to find his fears realized. There, beside him, stood [Deleted] with an unbearably smug expression, who, upon noting UndertheMoon's shocked expression, produced a rather crumpled sheet of paper from one pocket. "Uh... Welcome111!! To teh PlatShi... Uh, Planeshift, in which u cn...". UndertheMoon rather rudely interrupted with a pointed comment "And just who are you?"
"GM [Del]
UndertheMoon sighed. Evidently, things weren't getting any better.
In desperation he turned to a nearby grazing NPC, finding it somewhat less incomprehensible than [Deleted]'s leetspeak.
"Who are you?"
"I cannot understand you; could you possibly phrase that differently? Try a simpler phrase"
The incomprehensible NPC found UndertheMoon's accent equally so.
UndertheMoon screams
Ah... Just what I was waiting for. UndertheMoon, your propensity for self annihilation astounds me. I was planning that little meeting for last.
UndertheMoon: So, where am I?
Certainly. You, UndertheMoon, are in PlaneShift™, kindly sponsored by Microsoft corporation. This, Moon, is what was formerly Hydlaa, Gugrontid, and Ojaveda, if my memory does not elude me completely, and you have been translated to version 1.00.
UndertheMoon: I don’t suppose I’m the creator’s chosen champion, am I?
No. Talad’s asleep. Anyway, not unless you happen to have a white gold…
UndertheMoon coughs: Copyright
I thought you hadn’t read thos… You’ve been reading my script, haven’t you?
Anyway. That, UndertheMoon, is the platinum mine. You see, the Devs have a duty to cater to the players’ needs. The players rather liked platinum, after my moral blackm… Ah, persuasion influenced them correctly.
UndertheMoon: Talad allowed this?
Well, strictly speaking, no. After I made a few of my replacements… Jeraphon, Kieve, Karyuu, Talad, XilliX. Namely, the Dev team…
UndertheMoon: You’re not running this on a dedicated server from your location?
Technically, n…
UndertheMoon: Not a non-dedicated server?
Well, only running Dreamfall, World of Goo, my review service, my blogging software, my web edit…
UndertheMoon: That explains a lot.
Now you know why I’m universally disliked. Now, I don’t suppose you would consider giving me your brains?
UndertheMoon: My brains?
Oh, well. It was worth a try, and it is the gift-giving season.
UndertheMoon: I meant, why my brains?
Just think about it. Live out your life in blissful imbecility…
UndertheMoon: No
I don’t suppose you would consider…
UndertheMoon: No
<UndertheMoon has left IRC “Goned to chop firewood”>
Such a romantic notion. Well, in approximately two and a half days as regulated by the oscillations of the caesium atom, and…
