• Words of Wisdom

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More hours of my life have been spent playing on Canada West, hours of my life I will never ever get back.

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I like to fly the Feds. Actually, most people like to fly the Feds. Most people also suck. Therefore, most Feds suck. I cannot dispute this. Looking at a larger-scale server like Artic’s old server or Canada West and seeing a HUGE number of Feds on who are steadily losing ground while the ISC takes root in their living room makes the case clear.

I’ve already elaborated on why sucky players like to fly the Feds. I wish they could stop sucking. I wish maybe they could get a clue. More than anything else, I wish they would play some other race so people could stop whining about the blue plague, while at the same time suffering with the mass incompetence of the average player that plagues the Feds. This is too much to hope for.

Since nobody reads this page anyway, I have therefore decided to start laying down some interesting ideas about using the Federation ships to advantage. Hopefully a few Feds will read this and either learn how to not suck quite so damn much, or be so overwhelmed with the micromanagement required to fly the Feds correctly that they go jump into some less generalized race.

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The more of it I play, the more SFC2 entrenches itself in my mind as "the game that almost was." This label applies to lots of games, far more than the "games that are actually good," yet still sadly far less than "games that just suck." The reason for this is the horribly unfinished state of the Dynaverse 2 server kit. That, of course, and players, but since players ruin almost all games on the face of the planet, this goes without saying.

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Back in the saddle, after 7 OS reinstalls (thank you Micro$oft) and a state-of-the-art WYSIWIG HTML editor that’s a thousand times worse than Netscape Composer. What have I been doing for the last couple weeks besides ignoring the fact that my forum is down? Playing Starfleet Command 2, the only game in recent memory to actually be interesting enough to play a lot. Unfortunately, it is riddled with the two biggest problems that can afflict any multiplayer net game: bugs, and players. Of these two, players is worse. You can always patch a bug.

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Immediately following the publication of the treatise, I got a lot of comments. Some were actually helpful. Here I’ve collected some of the comments I found particularly helpful, or funny, or uh whatever.

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NOTE FROM 4/22/2001 – This was originally written off the cuff following the minor skirmishes that resulted from the big bad infamous balance AC rant of 11/17/2000.  I forgot all about it, since I gave myself a headache trying to analyze more posts from this brilliant analyst and probably blotted it out of my memory in self-preservation.  Having just dug it up, I now present it, 5 months out of date, in the hopes that its irrelevance may further bore and chase away readers.

I have many detractors.  Using logical and convincing arguments such as "this uses potty language so you shouldn’t read it," many forum paladins have tried to convince me of the error of my ways.  Up until now, I have been in denial, trying to convince myself that careful research, hard data, strong inference, repeated questioning, a desire to improve a gaming environment, and the truth were enough to justify my delusions that maybe I was doing something that some people might find worthwhile, or could possibly make a change for the better.  That day is over, for I have met my match, a debater so powerful and so grounded in unshakable truth, backed up by encyclopaedic knowledge of just about everything, that I can no longer hold my head up and say, "I have an idea."

That man… is Sarec of Frostfell(Wall Licker).

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Sorta like the Sims, except with higher system requirements, funny animals, and no fun.

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The grass was tall and waving around the small hollow where the Wild Man slept.  Even if someone happened to look into the shadow of the ancient oak that shaded him, they might see nothing more than the jumble of twigs, leaves, and other detrius he used as blanket and camouflage.  Indeed, even without the careful placement of his cover, it was difficult to tell where the dirt of the forest floor ended and the Wild Man began, so streaked with filth was his skin wherever it was not protected by equally dirty leathers and furs.  His breathing was silent even in sleep; years of hermitage had conditioned him so thoroughly that he was stealthy even while unconscious.  He never slept deeply, though (another survival skill), and so when the sounds of a war party crunching through the underbrush reached him, his eyes snapped open and he was instantly awake, even before their loud voices made their way to his ears.   Read the rest of this entry »

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