(In which Veles Talks to Greegar & Maxim about Chickens)**
I really hate having to play Big Bad Captain.
When the need arises I'll do it, of course. It goes with the rank. Doesn't mean I have to enjoy it.
Frowning first at Greegar, then at Maxim, I snarled, "Hokay, zo vot vaz hyu two eediotz doing vhen Volfgang vaz eating Mizz Genie'z cheeckenz? For zeferal nightz ronning?" Both looked back at me with almost identical glares.
Greegar spoke first, "Pfft. Hy vaz patrolling, juzt like Hy vaz zuppozed to! Vhy should Hy vorry about vun corner of Harborzide dot Hy know gotz vun of uz in rezidenze? Maxim can look avter hiz gurlfriend'z houze!"
There was certainly logic in that, so I turned my gaze to Maxim.
"Vot? Hy vaz looking after Genie. All dot schtuff about getting ofer being human, und ronning in dot beeg race, den dot fonny antelope-guy popping out of novhere! Hyu ask me, vun of de local keedz looking at cheeckenz iz schmall potatoez vit all dot going on!"
Right. There was sense in that, as well. I resisted nosepinching at the two of them by main force.
"Right. Hokay. Vot ken hyu tell me dot iz uzeful? Vot *did* hyu obzerve?"
Greegar and Maxim exchanged a glance, in which they apparently decided it was Maxim's turn to answer first.
"Dot antelope-guy dunt schmell anyting like de old farm-hand'z schtuff. But Genie tinkz it'z him." His half-smile, half-shrug was eloquent, carefully not-saying that he was willing to humour his lady-love.
Greegar added in an undertone, "Und Volfie iz schmelling ... volf-y. It'z veird, und it'z getting schtronger."
At this I nodded, reaching a decision. "Hokay, right. Beck to you poztz. Uze you nozez, und dun mek me drag tingz like dis out uf hyu, hey? Iz all uzeful schtuff, vell done!"
They exchanged another glance, this one tinged with relief, pride and confusion -- certainly a better attitude to leave them with than their earlier glares had been.
I flipped them a small bag of coins and suggested they check out the beer in Miss Gia's new establishment in Boomtown, on me. They grinned and were gone.
Pausing a few moments to gather my thoughts, I set off at a long-patrol run for the Consulate boarding school, in hopes of finally talking to Frau Lowey about the changes in her son .....
(** Confused? Start here.)
Monday, July 27, 2009
Saturday, May 16, 2009
The Most Honourable Order of Geeks, Misfits & Walking Wounded
It was expressed to me recently by someone I deeply respect that everyone who comes in-world is in need of healing of some sort; that if they could get what they needed in RL, they wouldn't be wasting their time in what so many dismiss as a "game". This seems sense to me, as far as it goes.
I would suggest, however, that it may be an oversimplification.
SL attracts far more than the Walking Wounded, although Builder knows we get our share of those souls -- the ones who are lonely, or who are emotionally young and need nurturing in order to grow, or who have been hurt by family or mate or society or circumstance or themselves -- they come to find a community where we can all fly and dance and run and be accepted on the basis of how we act and react, and how we choose to look, and what we have to say.
But there are also, I submit, the Geeks and the Misfits, who in truth are no more wounded in the usual ways than is any living breathing human being. And still, for these souls, RL is not enough.
Perhaps the world outside the grid is not advanced enough; perhaps that person resonates more strongly and comfortably to another place or time, historical or fictional; perhaps their spirit longs for the freedom of running on four feet and acknowledging the changing moon and seasons in a way the "modern civilised world" has forgotten or abandoned; perhaps they can only find in-world the other three people in the universe who care to talk passionately for hours about collecting early Mesopotamian stamps.
We're not all wounded here. But we all find something here that we cannot find anywhere off the grid. And we can best serve ourselves and others by showing the welcoming, curious, tolerant, intelligent side of ourselves that we have come to expect in our neighbours when we're at home in-world. (This is not advocating being a doormat for idiots, merely that we give each person we meet a chance, the same chance we would like to have ourselves. If an idiot cannot fit in, let it not be because I was an idiot, as well.)
If we can work together to keep the lines of respectful communication open, then the Most Honourable Order of Geeks, Misfits & Walking Wounded will be what it needs to be, and we will be stronger for it.
I would suggest, however, that it may be an oversimplification.
SL attracts far more than the Walking Wounded, although Builder knows we get our share of those souls -- the ones who are lonely, or who are emotionally young and need nurturing in order to grow, or who have been hurt by family or mate or society or circumstance or themselves -- they come to find a community where we can all fly and dance and run and be accepted on the basis of how we act and react, and how we choose to look, and what we have to say.
But there are also, I submit, the Geeks and the Misfits, who in truth are no more wounded in the usual ways than is any living breathing human being. And still, for these souls, RL is not enough.
Perhaps the world outside the grid is not advanced enough; perhaps that person resonates more strongly and comfortably to another place or time, historical or fictional; perhaps their spirit longs for the freedom of running on four feet and acknowledging the changing moon and seasons in a way the "modern civilised world" has forgotten or abandoned; perhaps they can only find in-world the other three people in the universe who care to talk passionately for hours about collecting early Mesopotamian stamps.
We're not all wounded here. But we all find something here that we cannot find anywhere off the grid. And we can best serve ourselves and others by showing the welcoming, curious, tolerant, intelligent side of ourselves that we have come to expect in our neighbours when we're at home in-world. (This is not advocating being a doormat for idiots, merely that we give each person we meet a chance, the same chance we would like to have ourselves. If an idiot cannot fit in, let it not be because I was an idiot, as well.)
If we can work together to keep the lines of respectful communication open, then the Most Honourable Order of Geeks, Misfits & Walking Wounded will be what it needs to be, and we will be stronger for it.
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