Archival Post, Grimmy Classic

Kids! Kids! Kids!

EZ was never allowed to return. I'm not him, despite your over-blown and paranoid suspicions. You're devouring yourselves.

Anyone ever see that Twilight Zone episode where the aliens let the residents of the little town get so nervous they all end up killing one another? That's you, gang.

Here's the history of the events from the horse's (some might say jack-ass, but I'll quickly steal that obvious joke and save you pocket-protector clad AD&D masters from having to snort laugh and reach for your inhalers.) mouth:

On my first day in SL I opened the map, saw an event labelled "Bingo!" and thought to myself, "Bingo? BINGO!?! 'You can do WHATEVER you want! BUILD whatever you want! And BE whatever you want! It's the MATRIX!' And the kids are playing ... Bingo? You have got to be kidding me." It's likely your friend EZ thought something similar.

So, I head on over there... I walk in dressed in my first-day outfit! I'm the devil! Wooo! And I'm wielding a swell sword I bought at Skeelo's Fourth Floor Emporium or whatever. The sword has a broken script and is USELESS. Being my first weapon, I'm completely unaware that ANY weapons CAN be useful ... at this point. Mind you. I thought it was merely decorative.

[NAME HERE] tells me to put my sword away. I had no idea who this little tot with the big round glasses is, but I respond, "Why?" "Because if you don't..." the cracking little egg responds, "you'll have to leave." She then negatively rates me. Er. I'm amused.The moment this in-game-Unabomber style time-bomb started ticking can be traced to right there.

So, I put the sword away and then fly up closer to [NAME HERE] to carry on a bit of a discussion with her. I'm still not getting that she's the moderator of this event, the owner of this land, all things I discovered subsequently. Not to say that would fill me with awe and reverence... but... I say a few sarcastic things, she comes undone from the witty wiles that I've charmed all you folks with, and a Linden is summoned.

So, I decide to see if they're a little more stable than [NAME HERE]. and float above her head landing on the arch above the Bingo match. I then begin making thespitting noise located in my inventory. Occasionally I intersperse a fart. The Linden warns me again and I float away, knowing my destiny in this world: I am the God of Hellfire.

I went back on a second occasion to see what's going down. I reach for a Bingo card... BLAMMO! There's some nerd-tastic do-gooder dressed like a redneck gunman who shoots me around the place with hilariously wimpy bullets! They PUSH you in this world, I discover! Oh! Hilarity! A Linden quickly arrives and says that "the moderator of this event does NOT want <me> there." Hrrrmm. I oblige. But I've already judged this world as being fecund with those over-sensitive nerds on the receiving end of swirlies in Jr. High. Hall Monitor types.

Let's have some real fun.

A player here, a player there, they all relate to me the supposed sensitivities and spazz-outs of [NAME HERE]. (You're a gossipy bunch, and you should be ashamed.) She, apparently, is given to bouts of melodrama. Hey. So are a lot of women I know. That's cool. She still needs to pay in video-game vengeance! A random script-savvy player sees my rogue-ish AV and hands me the instrument that I will play to fake-world fame like Eddie Van Halen did his Peavey! The smoke-bomb ROCKET LAUNCHER!

It's like fate.

Percival: "I got a great idea where we should go next."
Grimmy: "I don't want to hear it."
Percival: "You'll change your mind when I tell ya."
Grimmy: "Shut up."
Percival: "Ok, Ok."
Grimmy: "It's your great ideas that got us here."
Percival: "Forget about it."
Grimmy: "Ok."
Percival: "There™. I figured you secretly wanted to know, so I told ya."
Grimmy: "That's your great idea? There's no better than here!"
Percival: "They got hover boards in There and a lot of empty huts we can hide out in. And a good climate. Nice beaches. The water's hard. You can walk on it."
____

Myself and my friend Percival clumsily plot to attack Bingo. Another (respected) player among you who I'll keep anonymous joins me. "I don't want to participate, I'll get in trouble. I just want to see the fun!"

Sure, pal!

Percival and I go in low and fast... oops! Somebody warned the Lindens! They're there! Percy goes in too close! He gets NO shots off! You dope! I get off ONE shot! One! Single! Shot! I see the place fill with that pleasing orange smoke. (There's nothing like the smell of fresh napalm in the moring, my friends.) And the Linden has already zapped me with the Suspend-o-matic Rifle! I'm impressed. Here's a quote from the e-mail he sent usright after:

Hey -- that was kind of fun. You did manage to get one shot off before my guys got to you....better luck next time.
Best,
Linden Lab

Better luck next time indeed. They were as obviously privy to my doomed destiny as I was.
I tell three other friends about this hilarious uptight world of wonders. They all get free trial accounts immediately.

"It's like walking in LA! It's like walking in Elll-Lay-HIC! (Nobody walks in LA.)"

You hopefully know the rest of the story. I attended a pool party in DA BOOM. Naked. It was pretty silly. I couldn't resist. I wheel out the ol' trusty rocket launcher.. (BLESS YOU, woman that handed that to me! BLESS YOU! She also gave one to Percy and one to our other friend who's name I won't reveal!) They begin screaming immediately, "Put it away! Put the @#$%in' gun away! Nooo!" I'm sitting, PowerBook on lap, blinking in disbelief. My hand is sitting over the (single) mouse-button.

Cuh-leeeek.

...

BOOM!

"#$%! YOU! @#$% YOU! YOU STUPID @#@@#@$%%!"

Cuh-leeeek. Cuh-leeeek.

BOOM! BOOM!

Obscenities, rocket-smoke and screams fill the air. I'm booted a mile into the sky. I click the "F" key. I'm stopped staring directly down at the pool party.

Click. Click. Click. Click. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. It's fun!

"This is what a pool party is like in Oakland, suckers!"

Eventually I was booted from the area, an airborne Militia of the People (I could never be convinced any of you have ever played an FPS based on your shooting skills) and a group of angry IM'ers rise up against me.

"Is it really worth losing your account, Grimmy!?!"

Let's check. $0.00. Uh-huh. Yes. Definitely.

I just keep coming back like the afro'd boomerang of vengeance. Eventually I got bored of the war games and we played some psychology games where I got back in good with the paranoid (ahem... puff... puff) host of the pool party. The next day, watching over a friend's shoulder, the whole world has gone to hell. There are patrols out for "griefers" despite my public declaration of suspension. There are turrets on buildings. [Name Here] has sold Boardwalk (under the suspicion that the Lindens have welcomed back EZ? God, if you people put that in the poor girl's head... you're to blame. More likely—she's to blame. She sounds aweeeeee bit unstable. I've heard from SEVERAL of you she's done this kind of thing before.) And everywhere you go the buzz on the street is "Grimmy! Griefers! Grimmy!" Dear lord, you folks are maleable. It's decided! You full-on deserve Grimmy The Grievous Grim Reaper! I have some serious laughs with my friends describing this all-too-precious world where folks scan in Campbell Soup cans and play Bingo, and how easily shook up they are! More of my friends qeue up to get free accounts immediately.

"Look at that would'ja! They even erected a gallery overnight to commemorate the previous night's bombing! How thoughtful!"

So, I'm kind-hearted. I tell you all: You need an in-game penalty that absorbs the griefers that will be coming your way, since the majority of you are obviously oblivious. After the idea being poo-poo'ed it's particularly knee-slapping to find it said again and again by your eldest and most respected members! A jail. A judicial system. It would be fun.

Mr. Old Perpetual Virginal Way Too Serious Guy: "No! It would be corrupt! Police state! Eegads! Pretentious blather! Pretentious blather! I'm forgetting it's a flippin' video game!"

Mr. Guy Who Only Has The Right To Be Called Snob In A Video Game Where Your Character Is Born Without A Wee-Wee: "Feh, you cretin! We don't want or needyour type here! Hmph! We don't understand that much larger systems are suffering because of lack of revenue! We'd rather love our snooty little polygon-strecthing lives out in isolation from those meanies who make up the majority right up until we hear that shocking announcement: 'Linden Labs regrets to inform you...'—Because we're incredibly stupid and short-sighted! Brains don't mean wisdom! Remember that! Wait. Why am I talking so negatively about myself? I must be a representative character in Grimmy's story which he ought to be getting back to right about now."

Ahem.

Your world continues to fall apart, and it's your own darn fault. Pull yourself together, people! I'm starting to feel sorry for you.

One side-note: About RL retaliation. Incredibly petty ... and even more hilarious! On the old BBS we frequented in the '80s in Texas one 20-something threatened to come to our house, with his shotgun ... and SHOOT my 14-YEAR-OLD little brother for GRIEFING him IN-GAME - !

Scary? Funny? Pathetic? I absolutely salivate for the first of you to validate that sentiment. You're close. Very close. Unveil the fact that despite all your bookish, solipsistic foolishness that you're animalistic, American low-lifes. Go ahead.

Either way: It's too late. We've already "grieved you" in the RL. All those wedgies you undoubtedly received throughout your years of public and private schooling? Those mightaswell have been from me, myself. Signed with love!

I'll read these boards for entertainment long after I'm gone. So please... occasionally rip off a resentful rant. I'll be in SL heaven. Tickled.

-GM