I blame the me of yesterday completely. He who, in that wanton curiosity for experimentation justly ascribed to the youths of the day before today, decided to download and install the Dungeons & Dragons Online: Eberron Unlimited client on a whim. Not to play now of course, but to tuck away ready for when time and circumstances allowed. If it wasn’t for him I wouldn’t at this moment be faced with a glistening red icon on my desktop that pulses and throbs and moans at me, the desktop equivalent of the hallucinatory writhing TV from the film Videodrome.
Thus I sat on Friday evening, my own Max Renn under the control of the MMOdrome virus with no Bianca O’Blivion to reprogram my malignant massively multiplayer madness, staring at the icon on the desktop which had now manifested itself into my reality as some moist and fleshy thing. I look down in astonishment – through one of those slow motion camera pans – to my hand which is no longer human but an electro-organic amalgam of PC mouse, flesh, tubes and wire. The veins in my arm bulge unnaturally, pumping blood into this gruesome handmouse and down into the thrumming heart of the PC. I move the handmouse in horror, and as I do so I notice the cursor on the screen, now rendered in three disturbingly phallic dimensions, move in accordance with my gesture. The icon flexes and ripples as it senses the proximity of the phallicursor, and somewhere behind me: the muffled wails of a hundred thousand souls in tormented ecstasy. I move the cursor inexorably towards the icon, and the pulsing of each quickens. They pull towards one another as though magnetised, an attraction that was spawned in the darkness and warmth at the birth of all things, and as the cursor penetrates the gaping space of the icon, the fingerbutton of my handmouse spasms and electrical impulses light up the pleasure centres of my soul as the instructions for creation are injected into the womb of the PC and, nine seconds later, a game is born to my eyes. Then, darkness…
I woke up the next morning with a level 2 dwarf monk called Mun Ki, and a serious hangover.
I’m safe in assuming that it happens like this for everyone though, right?
I wrote up my more mundane introduction to DDO over at my blog.
My anti-spam word is embarrassed. So should you be.
My anti-spam word was ‘proud’.
Whether that reflects my sense of satisfaction with the post or my heightened state of sexual arousal, I’ll leave as an exercise for the reader.
Too much cheese before bedtime, methinks?
(This post was brought to you by the anti-spam word, “flange”, and the number 9.)
That was a usual dream for me: the more cheese I eat the more normal my dreams get. If I have a good chunk of Vieux Boulogne before bed I tend to dream about variable mortgage rates.
Someone’s been playing Alan Wake again.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH! Variable mortgage rates!!! I have Variablemortgagerateophobia. Remind me to avoid posh cheeses; can’t take the risk.
(This post sponsored by “flapjack”, which is much safer.)