Greetings Cody, you and half the Oolite forums seem to have preceded my presence here, I knew I felt a disturbance in the Farce somewhere! (not that any will remember me from Oolite boards but they were the only Coriolis station to be found for years in a total void of space games)
I would advise stilts for the quagmires, and camels for the snowy hills
And any survivors, their debts I will certainly pay. There's always a way!
... people who habitually stay up late are, on average, more self-admiring, more manipulative, and more psychopathic than people who habitually arise early in the morning.
... people who habitually stay up late are, on average, more self-admiring, more manipulative, and more psychopathic than people who habitually arise early in the morning.
... people who habitually stay up late are, on average, more self-admiring, more manipulative, and more psychopathic than people who habitually arise early in the morning.
Except when it's me they're talking about, of course..
Most games have some sort of paddling-pool-and-water-wings beginning to ease you in: Oolite takes the rather more Darwinian approach of heaving you straight into the ocean, often with a brick or two in your pockets for luck. ~ Disembodied
Because to do so would counterpoint the surrealism of the underlying metaphor?
Very likely! Although there is always the possibility that - if you will allow me such an obvious point - the real intention is to sublimate this, transcend that, and come to terms with the fundamental dichotomies of the other.
Because to do so would counterpoint the surrealism of the underlying metaphor?
Very likely! Although there is always the possibility that - if you will allow me such an obvious point - the real intention is to sublimate this, transcend that, and come to terms with the fundamental dichotomies of the other.
This must be Thursday... I never could get the hang of Thursdays..
Most games have some sort of paddling-pool-and-water-wings beginning to ease you in: Oolite takes the rather more Darwinian approach of heaving you straight into the ocean, often with a brick or two in your pockets for luck. ~ Disembodied
This must be Thursday... I never could get the hang of Thursdays..
Sundays have their problems too:
'In the end, it was the Sunday afternoons he couldn't cope with, and that terrible listlessness that starts to set in about 2:55, when you know you've taken all the baths that you can usefully take that day, that however hard you stare at any given paragraph in the newspaper you will never actually read it, or use the revolutionary new pruning technique it describes, and that as you stare at the clock the hands will move relentlessly on to four o'clock, and you will enter the long, dark teatime of the soul.'
I see no reason to trade our elegant reactionless drives for dull squirtings, in the interests of a spurious "realism" that wears Newton on its tee-shirt whilst giving him serial wedgies round the back, and kneeing Einstein in the cobblers as it does so. Or to see our multifarious races and regimes buried beneath a heap of drab humanity, either. The future is unwritten - so let's write it!
Commander Ranthe: Flying the Anaconda-class transport Atomic Annie through Galaxy 2. Combat Ranking: Dangerous
"Big ships take more booty on your interstellar flights..."