serinde: (what has this flag become?)
As I type this on the aged repurposed-from-work MacBook at the country estate, I have another window which is an OS X Screen Sharing session back to gfefx, on my desk at home; on which is running my last ever session of City of Heroes. And I can't even as who should say play, because between the screen resolution mismatches and the lossage over the connection and the fact that the Mac client is a mess inside a WINE wrapper anyways, if I tried to actually enter a combat the entire thing would probably go foom. So I'm standing on the steps of Atlas Park holding a torch instead of going to bed, whence [livejournal.com profile] sweh has already retired, charitably not saying anything about my insanity. Why?

CoH has been a major part of my world for the last eight years. A bit less in the last couple, true; but before that time, I was online nearly every day. I started playing in September 2004, while [livejournal.com profile] audiovile was noodling with World of Warcraft; soon I got him into it, and then [livejournal.com profile] elibalin, then [personal profile] xlerb, then others. Some of our D&D group joined; then some of Steve's co-workers; occasionally Dave or Johan or [personal profile] ideological_cuddle. We settled on Sunday nights as our regular supergroup nights, and on other evenings Steve and I would go out as a duo, or Eli and I as the Team Supreme, or random other pick-up groups.
More memories and shibboleths ahoy )

There's so many more, and I'll probably think of them in the morning.

Four minutes to go.

Here comes the Nothing.
serinde: (Fuck off.)
For some reason, I am approaching my 20 min. of walking/jogging tomorrow morning with the kind of trepidation and ONOZ one usually reserves for firewalking up Mt. Everest. Is this because I need to create drama (because we haven't had BLOODY WELL ENOUGH RECENTLY), or because my lizard brain wants me not to do it?

In other news, during supergroup time tonight we have found an answer to the extreme annoyance of being tell-spammed by idiots advertising Chinese goldfarming sites: we tell-spam them back, either with our insane cries of "Po!" (long story) or by extended Engrish ads for [livejournal.com profile] elibalin's fictional hatfarming creation, MAOHATS.COM. (Which reminds me, we must snarf that domain name before someone else does.)
serinde: (Champions)
When a level 10 empathy healer can't drum up trade for a mission team, it is time to go do something else for awhile. Laundry, perhaps.
serinde: (MY CURSE IZ PASTEDE ON YAY!)
For our last SG hurrah before the all-packing, all the time channel, we tried the Abandoned Sewer Trial; i.e., "fight your way down a maze of easily-falloffable catwalks through hordes of Geigeresque aliens to face a Cthulhic tentacled horror at the bottom. Oh, did we mention you only have 90 minutes? And that the horror is protected by a force field generated from four disparate machines, which regenerate themselves within two minutes after you destroy them."

This might even have been doable, except that all the enemies conned purple to the entire team. It took us so long to fight our way down that we didn't have time to cope with Mister Big Drooly Hentai Thing, and even if we had, we couldn't kill the generators (and their equally-regenerating guards) fast enough to run back and have a go at the fucker. So instead, there was a lot of glorious dying. The astute will notice that our last outing, the respec TF, ended in similar fiasco. I can't wait to see what the 40-levels have in store for us.

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