Wednesday, April 9, 2014

Not the Right Question to Put to Bob

Sweetie thinks we should revitalize Whimsy by judiciously removing some of our older prims and replacing them with objects that take advantage of new developments like mesh and materials. I don't disagree, but I think we should take care to preserve our ancient six-year-old heritage.

Actually, our heritage goes further back than that, perhaps as far back as 1993. We found Whimsy, you see, much as it is today, it having been abandoned by its indigenous peoples when the volcano goddess Pele erupted once too often.

On of the things Sweetie and I found when we arrived on Whimsy (having gotten there by a freak teleport accident) was Bob, our giant granite Paleolithic slightly-deified drinking bird. Bob is an icon on Whimsy and has served faithfully, moving mindlessly up and down since Whimsy was a newborn sim.

In keeping with our renovation program, I asked Bob how he would feel about an update.

Planned Makeover for Bob
Bob, you see, is made of old-fashioned prims. When he was created there was no mesh; in fact sculpted prims were yet to be introduced. I wondered how Bob would feel about an all-mesh body.

Bob's Prim-Based Shape is Functional, But Hardly Elegant

"So, Bob, how you you like a new all-mesh body?"

For the first time in six years, Bob stopped moving.

This spelled disaster for Whimsy, of course. Bob, by his motion, pumps not only our fresh water, but petroleum to power our assorted vehicles and  molten rock to keep the volcano Pele supplied with lava. Not only that, we transform his kinetic motion into electricity to bring you, among other things, the paper upon which this blog is written. A motionless Bob was not good news.

I mentioned that Bob is slightly deified. He was worshipped by Whimsy's original inhabitants and Sweetie and I find him more than a bit godlike. I realized how badly I had offended him by suggesting he be made of mesh.

"Please Bob, bob!" I pleaded. But he wouldn't move. Not unless he was paid tribute in the form of a sacrifice.

"How about my hog dog aircraft?" I asked. "I can burn it for you."


"How about a Linden palm tree?"


"My best outfit? The one I'm wearing? It's from Paper Couture!"

NO! Bob wanted something living. Sweetie, maybe.

"No, you can't have Sweetie! Sweetie is mine! And not me, either."

We settled on a group of flat prim fish I had purchased by mistake. Like the flat prim robin I threw in for good measure, Bob is once again bob-bob-bobbing along.

We call him Bob because he does.

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