Do NOT Use the Bathrooms in This Establishment!
Written 7 February, 2008
That’s all it takes for me to get my fill of a sim.
When I jumped to the fabled all-sculpty Black Rose, I waited five minutes for everything to rez, said, “Oh,” and left.
When I visited the famous Avilion ballroom, I jumped to Avilion, read the rules, put on period costume, and wandered about, getting scrambled at sim crossings, until I found the dance floor. No one had on period clothing. I said, “Oh,” and left.
Some sims have more holding power for me. I love Tol Eressea, which is simple and calm and almost entirely free of scripts. Sweetie and I spent two hours there on our first visit, and I still like to go there and hike up the mountain. I love Bliss Gardens—not because I find them lovely—the ground textures and brilliant blue water have not aged well for me— or even for the brilliant balloon rides, but because I love to hike the paths that span the four sims. I love the surrealness of the Morris welcome area, where I first rezzed. Newbies of all stripes have their homes there, and it can be bizarre beyond belief. I like to stand there and take it all in and pluck new citizens from the ceiling when they get trapped and floated up there by the huge prims of griefers. And I love the federated sailing sims around Nantucket, and the Greenhouse sim.
Now I have another fave: Privateer Space.
Privateer Space is a noncommercial sim that seems to have been put together for the mere whimsy of it. I love places like that!
Night before last, I went gridhopping to waste a bit of time before going to bed. First sim: Boooring! Second sim! Uuugly. Third sim: Naaasty! Four sim: Stuuuupid! Fifth sim: What’s this? An intergalactic truck stop? I think I’m going to like this place.
And I was going to have fun while I explored it.
I walked past a visiting avi and marched up to a prim waitress who was taking an order from a prim customer. I was in a mood. I said to the waitress, “I come in peace.”
The other avi said, “They’re not real.”
I said, “I mean you no harm. And I would like a space burger and fries to go. Hold the onions.”
He said, “They’re not real.”
I IMed him: “I’m lying to them so I can take them unawares. I don't come in peace at all. I’ve formulated a brilliant but tragically flawed plan for the domination of the virtual intergalactic truck stop industry. Would you like to be my handsome but not-quite-bright captain of conquest?”
He IMed, “They’re not real,” blowing his chances at intergalactic infamy. Not-so-bright for real.
Down in the mines, I stumbled over a broken piece of machinery. I turned to another visiting avi and said, “My father used to repair these!”
“Mining droids?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said, and turned to the broken robot. “It’s not right that you should have to work under these conditions. Will you join us Saturday for a planning meeting to form Amalgamated Droid Union #477? There will be a strike.”
“LOL,” said the other avi, tentatively.
I said to the droid, “We must stand firm against your cruel human dominators. I’m asking you to pledge your solidarity.”
As I was walking away, I turned and in one last but futile attempt to bridge the chasm that separates humans from machines, said to the droid, “Will you at least take my card?”
When I returned from the mine tour I saw the first avi (the clueless one). I said, “I just know the bathrooms are dirty.” I looked up, and lo, there were bathrooms marked with male and female robot symbols. I opened the ladies and went inside, where I was confronted with an array of bulky and thoroughly confusing intergalactic plumbing. The intergalactic definition of female must be somewhat broader than what I am used to. And sure enough, it was less than clean. Leaving, I called to the avi. “Yep. Filthy.”
Outside the station I clicked a sign and was given a way cool two-seater spacecraft and urged to explore the space ways. I leaped in and took off, avoiding and sometimes colliding with an array of sculpty asteroids while taking automatic laser fire from an unfriendly UFO. I escaped into a wormhole and unleashed a night of adventure. I explored the New Hotel California, where I absolutely COULD NOT get room service. I visited an intergalactic junk yard and spacecraft repair facility. I flew through nebulae. I landed on Tattooing. I flew to and through Planet Bob. I finalized my plan of intergalactic truck stop domination. I went to bed two hours later than my usual time.
Privateer Space is brilliantly conceived and brilliantly executed and suffused with a sense of humor I found utterly lacking in the Greenies sim. Where else could you find a dissolute C3PO holding a sign that reads, “I will solve differential equations for power” or a planet named Bob? And where else can you find a build with no discernable ground and a ceiling at an astounding 2000 meters?
Yep, that’s right. Prims up to 2000 meters! How do they DO that?
All of this, and not one thing for sale!
I have to say, the free Privateer spacecraft is the easiest to drive of any flying vehicle I’ve found in Second Life. It’s mod, which will delight Sweetie, who will no doubt take it apart and put it back together as a flying eggbeater or steam punk spacecraft, and the scripts and sounds are all full permissions. Bless you, Privateer Space, for such a wonderful gift! And for the wonderful gift of your sim!
***** Whimsical Builds
***** Frightening Intergalactic Plumbing
***** Creative Naming of Planets
***** Cool Free Spacecraft
* Room Service at the New Hotel California