03-30-2011, 01:25 PM
ENTRY NINE
Mere minutes before the perceived deadline, I hastily cobble together a bare bones set of turn orders, and launch them into oblivion towards the game moderator.
Beset by confusion, I rebel against calculated attempts by other players to confuse me, and fore go consideration of most options in the game. Does this type of approach jeopardize my empire? Most certainly. However, at least momentarily it sates the beast inside of me which begins to grumble, and which seeks to influence me to drop out of the game.
For the time being, interplanetary flight and colonization are out of the question. I'm lost - lost in space, and find myself cursing Jon Ogden for not progressing faster with Rimworlds. Fully comprehending the current game that I am in appears to be an event that lies somewhere over the far horizons of the future. I begin to wonder if Far Horizons' creator, Rick Morneau, was sinister enough to intentionally craft such confusion into the rules of his game. Surely, his legacy shall endure forever!
The only excitement in my turn, this time around, came in the form of the game moderator, Casey (apparently the very same one who wrecked the train in the ditch), became so flabbergasted, himself, that he botched things on his end, deleting turn orders already sent, and as if that wasn't bad enough, he also sent an announcement out via e-mail, but inadvertently ended up revealing who all of the players in the game are.
Oh, my God!! How funny was that?! I tried to tell him that this game was confusing, but did he listen? Oh, Hell no! Now, he knows, though. Now, the beast has bitten him squarely on the ass.
Oh, and did I mention that my turn orders for the last turn, the ones that yielded the auto-messages sent back to me via e-mail of, Orders parsed successfully - No errors found, ended up having errors in them, after all? I just can't win, it seems.
On a positive note, the game moderator was kind enough to send me back an edited version of the last turn' orders that I sent him, so that I could compare what I had tried to do with what I had intended to do. That was helpful. It doesn't pull back the massive cloud of confusion that has set in, but it was helpful, just the same.
Oh, oh, oh....What's this? While I am in the middle of writing this entry log, I check my e-mail, and it appears that I have managed to bungle my turn orders that I sent in only this morning, also. Oh, dammit it all to Hell!!
Screw it! I'll take a maintenance turn with nothing accomplished, this last turn.
And just when I thought that the cloud of confusion was beginning to recede. BAM!! Mega-cloud expands in size a zillion fold.
Doomed! We are all doomed, I tell ya.
Screw it! I'm going to go and find something to eat.
Mere minutes before the perceived deadline, I hastily cobble together a bare bones set of turn orders, and launch them into oblivion towards the game moderator.
Beset by confusion, I rebel against calculated attempts by other players to confuse me, and fore go consideration of most options in the game. Does this type of approach jeopardize my empire? Most certainly. However, at least momentarily it sates the beast inside of me which begins to grumble, and which seeks to influence me to drop out of the game.
For the time being, interplanetary flight and colonization are out of the question. I'm lost - lost in space, and find myself cursing Jon Ogden for not progressing faster with Rimworlds. Fully comprehending the current game that I am in appears to be an event that lies somewhere over the far horizons of the future. I begin to wonder if Far Horizons' creator, Rick Morneau, was sinister enough to intentionally craft such confusion into the rules of his game. Surely, his legacy shall endure forever!
The only excitement in my turn, this time around, came in the form of the game moderator, Casey (apparently the very same one who wrecked the train in the ditch), became so flabbergasted, himself, that he botched things on his end, deleting turn orders already sent, and as if that wasn't bad enough, he also sent an announcement out via e-mail, but inadvertently ended up revealing who all of the players in the game are.
Oh, my God!! How funny was that?! I tried to tell him that this game was confusing, but did he listen? Oh, Hell no! Now, he knows, though. Now, the beast has bitten him squarely on the ass.
Oh, and did I mention that my turn orders for the last turn, the ones that yielded the auto-messages sent back to me via e-mail of, Orders parsed successfully - No errors found, ended up having errors in them, after all? I just can't win, it seems.
On a positive note, the game moderator was kind enough to send me back an edited version of the last turn' orders that I sent him, so that I could compare what I had tried to do with what I had intended to do. That was helpful. It doesn't pull back the massive cloud of confusion that has set in, but it was helpful, just the same.
Oh, oh, oh....What's this? While I am in the middle of writing this entry log, I check my e-mail, and it appears that I have managed to bungle my turn orders that I sent in only this morning, also. Oh, dammit it all to Hell!!
Screw it! I'll take a maintenance turn with nothing accomplished, this last turn.
And just when I thought that the cloud of confusion was beginning to recede. BAM!! Mega-cloud expands in size a zillion fold.
Doomed! We are all doomed, I tell ya.
Screw it! I'm going to go and find something to eat.