02-03-2017, 05:26 PM
A quiet little abode. That's what this place has become.
The quiet can be misleading, though. As editor of Suspense & Decision magazine, there is always noise to surround myself with, as I go about my business of trying to pan PBM gold from the sands of time.
A bit here. A piece there. So much has been lost to the passage of time, and to the sands of the past. Nonetheless, in spite of it all - or perhaps even because of it all - I continue to trudge right along, seemingly making little headway, even as I nudge continuously forward, despite it all.
I've already begun work on issue #16. That might be a bit of an overstatement, though, since not a whole lot has been sent to me, thus far. The clam before the storm. Some storms never arrive, though, choosing to pass me by, entirely.
There's still nuggets that turn up, even after all of this time - nuggets that I have never encountered, before, It all washes down the River of Time.
Colin Danks, God bless him, has sent me something, this morning. It's got me excited. PBM gold, people! Something to adorn the pages of Issue #16 of Suspense & decision magazine with, no doubt.
If you're out there, but you stick your head in the door, here, how about joining Colin and sending me something to include in a future issue of S&D.
Our readers will be glad that you did.
Play by mail gaming reminds me of the Shire. For all of the chaos and conflict associated with it, PBM gaming plays a serene note through the pipe organ that is my memory. Just hidden away, this hobby has been, for more years than I care to remember. Even the lidless eyes forget that we are here, focusing upon more important things, focusing upon games not fit for elf nor dwarf.
I'll be gone, one day. I'll leave this all behind. Make no mistake about it, though. No one will notice. No one will miss this site when the beasts that roam the Internet, day and night, devour this site and nary a trace of it remains, anymore.
I'll just be a dash on a tombstone. Maybe not even that, if my wife listens to me.
Carol Mulholland just died. Not too long ago. Not too far back. A few weeks, at most. Honest, I don't even know the exact day.
And it doesn't even matter. What mattered was Carol.
What matters is this hobby of ours.
This hobby of mine. This hobby of yours.
This hobby that I call...The Shire.
To others, PBM gamers may see like odd wee folk. They just don't understand us, though.
You don't have to understand, in order to join us, though. The Shire is a small place, but it's always big enough for just one more.
Or a hundred more.
Or a thousand more.
Play-By-Mail - Return to the games of your fathers!
The quiet can be misleading, though. As editor of Suspense & Decision magazine, there is always noise to surround myself with, as I go about my business of trying to pan PBM gold from the sands of time.
A bit here. A piece there. So much has been lost to the passage of time, and to the sands of the past. Nonetheless, in spite of it all - or perhaps even because of it all - I continue to trudge right along, seemingly making little headway, even as I nudge continuously forward, despite it all.
I've already begun work on issue #16. That might be a bit of an overstatement, though, since not a whole lot has been sent to me, thus far. The clam before the storm. Some storms never arrive, though, choosing to pass me by, entirely.
There's still nuggets that turn up, even after all of this time - nuggets that I have never encountered, before, It all washes down the River of Time.
Colin Danks, God bless him, has sent me something, this morning. It's got me excited. PBM gold, people! Something to adorn the pages of Issue #16 of Suspense & decision magazine with, no doubt.
If you're out there, but you stick your head in the door, here, how about joining Colin and sending me something to include in a future issue of S&D.
Our readers will be glad that you did.
Play by mail gaming reminds me of the Shire. For all of the chaos and conflict associated with it, PBM gaming plays a serene note through the pipe organ that is my memory. Just hidden away, this hobby has been, for more years than I care to remember. Even the lidless eyes forget that we are here, focusing upon more important things, focusing upon games not fit for elf nor dwarf.
I'll be gone, one day. I'll leave this all behind. Make no mistake about it, though. No one will notice. No one will miss this site when the beasts that roam the Internet, day and night, devour this site and nary a trace of it remains, anymore.
I'll just be a dash on a tombstone. Maybe not even that, if my wife listens to me.
Carol Mulholland just died. Not too long ago. Not too far back. A few weeks, at most. Honest, I don't even know the exact day.
And it doesn't even matter. What mattered was Carol.
What matters is this hobby of ours.
This hobby of mine. This hobby of yours.
This hobby that I call...The Shire.
To others, PBM gamers may see like odd wee folk. They just don't understand us, though.
You don't have to understand, in order to join us, though. The Shire is a small place, but it's always big enough for just one more.
Or a hundred more.
Or a thousand more.
Play-By-Mail - Return to the games of your fathers!