It's the end of the world as we know it, and I don't feel fine

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 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 audiovile was noodling with World of Warcraft; soon I got him into it, and then elibalin, then xlerb, then others. Some of our D&D group joined; then some of Steve's co-workers; occasionally Dave or Johan or 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.