Almost twenty years of play, buried and gone.
This was my last little vestige of old, anonymous gaming. The action economy meant that the blue haired fatties and their freakish enablers couldn’t get away with the sorts of social bullying that have destroyed the online experience over the last decade or so. To get that you had to go outside the game and experience the usual attacks from the tax eaters and parasites who live on the dole and thus have time to dominate the seats of judgement of social media all day long.
Sure, spray painted graffiti popped up of the childish and trollish early X-Box vintage on every side of every issue. So too with the primitive in-game broadcasts. There were ways to block the latter, and it was easy enough to train the eye to ignore both. So people mostly just got on with playing the game and making their own kind of fun within the and without the official game’s rules.
It was nice.
And I’m not just saying that as the man who once ran the most popular account in the city. If you know, you know, and if you don’t, you won’t. Maybe I’ll tell you about it some day. Either way, it’s fine. Good Lord willing and the Brits DO rise, maybe we’ll get this magic little apocalypse back one day.
The real Malton, that is. There are whispers of fans rebuilding the game and running a fork somewhere out there, but read that second paragraph of this post again and you’ll understand why they’ll do it without the biggest name in the end of the world.
Rest well, Kevan. You provided a lot of people with a lot of the C.S. Lewis kind of escape.
Thank you, where ever you are, and God Bless You for it.