Join the new world

Dear precious readers, today we depart from this paper's normal coverage (which I guess thus far has been politics and military) into the realm of socialization, with an in-depth recap at the romantic events of this last week's digital drama. Hunker down, grab some popcorn, and let's have a look at a love.



It all started innocently and innocuously enough on Day 1966 with a simple proposal from Henry Pfeiffer Arundel, known colloquially as Pfeiffer. In the marriage proposal, he began by talking of previous eMarriages in this game's history. I honestly didn't realize such things had even occurred in the past had it not been for his saying so, but digging once again into the wiki (and asking around a bit on IRC) and I was able to get the dirt that such things had occurred. Apparently a number of them had been what are called Dioist weddings, with even elaborate rituals and marriage rites repeated in private IRC rooms.

The social aspect of this is an intriguing one to be sure. But back to the matter are hand.


Or more appropriately, the matter at finger...s...guns...? (New pun open to suggestion)

The original article is fairly benign, citing past friendship and working well together, which is the type of storgic relationship I think many of us hope to grow with another kindred soul. But alas, such friendly beginnings are oft our own undoing, as is the case with this courtship's end.

In his second attempt and more formalized enunciation of his adoration, Pfeiffer details how he viewed fingerguns as a strong, independent, black woman eminent voice both politically and socially in the gamescape. Calling her "the mother of giants" (I would have preferred dragons, but, when in Rome I guess) he carefully outlined an extended metaphor which worked to highlight her powerful political motions and contributions to our body republic.


And what a bawdy republic it has been with her.

It's a not-so-subtle second attempt by Pfeiffer on the day after his first, and such instantiations of affections are often off-putting if done too early. But good phrasing and a strong metaphor (seriously would have preferred dragons but I get where you're coming from) make it a strong start to the courtship.

Pfeiffer's third foray into the field of fascination is one of offering up a present of sorts: the Pfeifferguns Noobling Foundation for Noobs. And I must say, my interest was piqued. Not much is particularly given in terms of specific action item lists or goals, but the prospect of a supplemental education to our already fabulous Education and Interior departments was a tantalizing thought for me.

And then, the dam broke.


Not literally, thankfully. I hear our country's infrastructure is solid. USA! USA! USA!

Mere hours after Pfeiffer's discussion on his intent to invade Canada (don't quite know what Pfeiffer holds against the Canadians but war's war and I'm fine with that) a challenger appeared.


An adorable, fluffy challenger from the looks of it.

Mr. Josh Frost, an e😜resident and very accomplished fighter in his own regards (respect), had decided that his former life of war and toil should be traded for one of comfort, caring, and cat lovin'. And who can blame the little rascal? From his intimations, it seemed that Josh Frost had had more intimate late night IRC moments with fingerguns than had Pfeiffer.

This Casablanca-esque love triangle quickly transitioned into a foursome with yet another contender: Jakov Mikhailovich, whose name sounds suspiciously similar to Nikolai Jakov (probably no relation [I'll look into it]). This one took a bit of context and lurking, because upon first viewing, I was confused with Mr. Jakov's proposal of marrying his fist with Pfeiffer's face. An overzealous lurking lover from afar, come to claim rights perhaps? Not exactly, really, as Mr. Jakov's first sentence in that article is apparently a little more literal than I first took it to be.

As if an adorable presidential kitten, a Berkeley Breathed and Bowswer loving badass, and his own desire to play it cool in front of the lovely fingerguns wasn't enough competition for Pfeiffer, another jack decided to step in and kick this party into high gear. Which makes one wonder: at what point does it cease being appropriate to quantify things in terms of -somes and just call the whole bit of shenanigans an orgy? The world may never know (or if you do just leave a comment).


Pic unrelated.

And then, after waiting to see if this online romance would turn out romantic comedy or romantic tragedy, the world got it's answer: tragedy. I'll leave the reading of that article to you, dear reader, as my job is to write and yours to read and I've done quite a bit of it this article and am tired of finding quotes to put in here to use. So just read it. It's a hard let down, but done with a bit of humor and grace (only a bit).

I happened to be on IRC when the article was released. There was much discussion in the Fed's room of the circumstances and outcome. Many noted the fact that it is against other people with whom we play, and I think that's the most fascinating aspect I'll be taking out of this whole thing. It's an important thing to always remember that your interactions in this game are against and with other people, who share hopes and desires, aspirations and plans, and all the other things which make us equally human. Love, loss; we are not removed even in this electronic realm of cash gold and dandy.

It's an interesting thought in general. And harkening back to that Dioist comment I made earlier, it seems Pfeiffer may have a fallback from his let down of fingerguns in case he's interested. I don't think he will be, but this game is full of quirky little surprises.

Will our loverboy gallant take to the stage and discuss what can only be an emotional defeat at the hands of conspiring friend-zonery? Maybe, I'm not a psychic.

Anyways, thank you as always for reading (I swear I had a point to make with this one... I swear I did...) and I'll see you next time around maybe! EnterAwesome has graciously let me in on the Media Team for the Feds, so thta will be a bit of jaunting exposition hopefully for my paper.

As with love, only time will tell if it blooms into a fruitful romance or strangles you to death under the weedy weight of heartache and unrecoverable depression.



Until next time, dothras chek.