In lieu of getting any more actual interactive fiction based content on this site, I had a bit of a brainwave. What the hell was this page really doing, anyway? Some sort virtual crusade that would allow the Krips to avenge those that would destroy us? It seemed to be some sort of Kingpin pimp site with the occasional update about how someone in the clergy was, this week, confusing the devil with Pokemon.

I mean, hell. One is the Devil. The other is a Pokemon. What's the freaking problem, Padre?

It happens. I realize at the end of the day, when I am driving from beautiful Longmont to the evil, decadent Fort Collins (at speeds unsafe to all but the evil heretic like myself (foolishly ?) engage in) that there really is nothing I can say or do in order to single-handedly create an aura of artistic integrity and acceptance among the masses regarding this hobby I have devoted so much passion to. It doesn't help that I discovered Napster one week after getting a cable modem installed. That certainly wasn't allowing me to get the definitive word out on Doppelganger. The great thing about Napster is not that it allows you to illegally obtain music that you otherwise wouldn't be able to do. A trench coat and friend capable of creating a loud, angry, extravagant disaster / diversion will allow you to get all the free music that you could ever desire. Complete with liner notes, natch. No. The great thing about Napster is that it allows you to find out exactly who is responsible for what song.

Take the song, "Kangaroo," for instance. "Kangaroo it ain't so hard for you to bounce in my backyard. We could sail the ocean blue my Kangaroo." You can't get that special kind of glowy rapture anywhere except the local college radio station and, apparently, from crashing the practice session of "Big Wu." Big Wu? Damnation, who the hell knew? Granted, in this day and age, the mention of ska produces the same kind of stretch-lipped smile that passing references to Megatron, La Bamba and How Crappy Dani Bunten's Games Got After Modem Wars produces, but you would think that a Colorado State University disc jockey grows an extra cancer cell every time that a band's name is mentioned on their radio station. Armed, however, with the knowledge that some chick named Meja does the song "All About The Money," I am now prepared to discern the CD that features it, enter a Tower Records, and steal it. Thumbs up to Napster, then.

("All About The Money?" the masses cry. "What kind of a swishy homo are you that you would even admit to downloading that song and putting your skinless WinAmp on 'repeat' so that you could listen to it twenty or twenty five times?"

And the answer, of course, is "the swishiest."

I will say this and only this, though. Inevitably I will finally port Adam Cadre's Phototalk code to Hugo and start, again, talking to the fabulous array of local girls Fort Collins sports like a coat of arms. I make this quiet, solemn vow. Whoever I eventually decide to spend the rest of my natural days on this earth with will have, at least, an exact duplicate of this "Meja" chick's voice. This, I swear to myself, I will absolutely not mess up. I realize I made the same vow regarding that statutory rape thing (cheers, Tricia!) and fell a little short of grabbing the Grail there, but this promise is a keeper. I mean, hell, right?)

So while I have conceded defeat on ever changing anyone's mind regarding the New Orleans Saints and their playoff chances, I have not yet stopped the good fight when it comes to power gaming. 3DFX, makers of the card that no-one admits to wishing they had, except when it comes time to play Unreal, Unreal Tournament, Ultima 9 and eventually Duke Nukem 4, likes to feature one of their gamers each week.

The remarkable thing is, even though I personally have, over the course of a page and a half of HTML, created nothing but the most grotesque vision of myself as an up and coming net.commentator, I don't even crack the list regarding 3DFX's Freak Show.

I mean, Jesus, dude! They are like Sports Illustrated covering John Rocker, Mike Ditka, Kevin Mitchell or Ricky Williams.

Here's some info on another gamer.

Currently unemployed and enrolled in a Culinary Arts program in High School, this native of Pawtucket, Rhode Island seems to have found his forte. His knowledge of computer hardware and gaming is profound. Not only does he have brains, but he has great taste as well. “I saw the Voodoo3 2000 AGP box and I thought to myself that I had to have it,” said Robert as he explained how he came to buy his first Voodoo. “I begged my mom to pay for what I couldn't pay for. I got it, and when I got home, and I started playing all of the games I used to hate because they looked too bad and were slow, like NFS:3."

This guy once, let's call him, uh, "Night Owl" once exclaimed to a co-worker of his that liked to dress up in his own trench coat and mask that looked suspiciously like a rorschach test, "Do you have any idea how hard it is to be your friend?"

3DFX isn't exactly helping here. I'm sure the two dudes listed above would get the same treatment from me that Admiral Jota and Rybread Celsius would get from Ben if they ended up on my flag football team. I'd shake their hands, look them square in the eye and ask them how "the hell" they were, with a knowing yet unspoken, bond due to the much-maligned video card the three of us own. I'd then probably kick both of them off the team because 3DFX has single-handedly portrayed them as lumpy aeslops that couldn't travel ten meters off a twelve meter building. Ergo, I'm imploring 3DFX... quit helping!

I mean, that last kid is still in high school. I used to get abuse for simply walking down the hall deep in thought about how sluttily Meja would eventually pronounce the word "understand" nine years later. 3DFX seems to be dooming this poor guy to a lifetime of wedgies, three chalupa dinners and dateless proms.

And maybe we can do a little better than this. That's all I'm saying.

Reviews From Trotting Krips