Feast of Fools

Wow. Jokes wear old quickly on this day. So do the formats they're sent in. I was surprised at the number of tomatoes being thrown around on my group chat channels whenever someone brought up a fake news report regarding Second Life. Luckily, today I spent a few minutes in my skybox hideout developing a different approach to the holiday, with incredible results. Instead of circulating an article gleaned off the internet, I decided to make myself the subject of one. Of course, I had to wait all night for this to happen. I guess some people don't bother to raise their voices on the proper comm channels.

But then, at 9:01 AM SLT, April 1, 2010, it happened. A confused soul named Hope Leistone opened the chat channel. Here's what she saw.


Yes, a pirate-flagged vessel planting itself right into the dancefloor at the drum circle in ElvenGlen, creating a nasty hole shooting wood splinters upwards. I can't begin to imagine what I would have been required to repay in court.
Some folks believed the report to be a farce, while others figured out quickly who was behind the prank. I started receiving IMs from those suspecting my mischief, and soon enough I teleported to the Drum Circle where I found a large crowd staring at their fractured field of fraternization and the frigate fully at fault. Yes, I admit to what I've done, and what do I do about it?

That's right! I blame the maker of my mainsail, Toyota, and in the sight of all these elves, I pull out my fiddle, rum flask, and start dancing on the ship's wheel, scratching out a pleasant, quick-paced tune on my fiddle for them. While one or two of them rolled their eyes at this as a violation of their charter, (Which seems to seek to capture and eliminate anyone having too much fun) everyone else understood what day it was and danced with me on the slippery deck of my latest BUI offense, laughing their mornings away. Pirates started crawling out of the woodwork to bask in our 15 minutes of fame. Even Hope, and her companion Alan ended up partying with us while I was still awake.Here we see my flattering portrait of High Elven Queen Forcythia Wishbringer, painted right on the mainsail.



Two pirates look on in horror at how half-rezzed they are.


Wow. When something's scurvy in the neighborhood, who ya gonna call? NINJA FERRETS!

Though dispatched to vanquish the pirate threat to the drum circle, I did send out my own detachment of pirates led by DeNasty Tigerpaw to bump off these rather adorable enemies to piratekind.

Mission accomplished, though. I heard cameras clicking every ten seconds, it seemed. The only time I've heard more cameras clicking was when my bride Star arrived and walked down the aisle to me, arms linked with her brother Dim. Speaking of Star, I owe our lovely Butterfly Queen a new dress, unfortunately, having ruined her brand new dress by flooding the Pirate Fairy Retreat as an April Fool's prank.

That reminds me, whatever happened to that DeLorean I hid in Tombstone Arizona?

Blarrgh

OK, it's been far too long since I last made a post here. I could not simply find any event I've done recently that I find notable, and all my past events have been way too in-depth for me to write on, just yet. Writing a summary tends to take longer than writing a full report, it seems. Bear with me!Anyway, as I finally lift my moratorium on this blog, I'd like to let you know that I'm supposed to be doing a custom texture order, but first I felt like directing your attention to a feat I've performed tonight. Not that it's notable, but because nobody else would do it without either being paid L500 or losing a game of strip-En Garde, because doffing one's garments after every stab isn't nearly debilitating enough.
Right, right. I've sailed from Elf Harbour in the extreme eastern (recently socially reformed) Elf Lands to the port of Hatchie Haven set deep in the river-fed gorges of the Isle of Wyrms...in a historical submarine, the H. L. Hunley. History lesson for another time. Wiki it, darn it.
Ok, while I attempt to treat myself of Beatles-derived earworms, let me tell you what happened.

So I buy this submarine from some guy who makes submarines. Figured a Soviet Typhoon class was a little large and inappropriate for the tech-abhorring Elves and their sheas (seas?) straddling their lands. I'm showing it off to someone in one of my RP groups and am accosted by a dragon watching my toy carefully.
[6:42] Callidus Waydelich points behind Flion in shock
[6:42] Kojima Macbain: Flion is my friend pirate >.>
[6:42] Kojima Macbain: shall i eat him FLion?
[6:42] Callidus Waydelich: ✸¯`•:. WhaHaHaHa Arr! .:•´¯✸
[6:42] Kojima Macbain: or is he in good standing with you?
[6:43] Callidus Waydelich: Aye, very good standing[6:43] Kojima Macbain: what is this metal monster you have here?
[6:43] Kojima Macbain: does it have food in it?
[6:43] Callidus Waydelich: it's an art piece I'm hauling to a show in The Green
[6:44] Kojima Macbain: Bah!
[6:44] Kojima Macbain: a dragon has no use for it -.-
[6:44] Callidus Waydelich: alas
[6:44] Kojima Macbain: bye the by (sic) pirate...[6:45] Kojima Macbain: you know that there is a price on your head?
[6:45] Flion Firehawk: ok back
[6:45] Callidus Waydelich: A total of 3000L
[6:45] Callidus Waydelich: I'm quite proud to boast such a bounty
[6:45] Flion Firehawk: eeks
[6:45] Kojima Macbain: makes you an interresting man ^_^
Now, whether the dragon bought my story is debatable, but I did confirm was that dragons are such strange folks. They either want to kill you brutally, popping your skull between their jaws or throw their arm around your shoulder and buy you a drink. (And usually both simultaneously.)
After the draggie spread his wings and flew off in search of other curiousities, and my original audience being inexplicably turned into a baboon from the encounter, (Citing exposure to dragons as reason for shapeshifting) I hopped into my sub, and cranked my way out of port before activating the faery-dust reactor I fitted the sub with (design classified as a matter of PFR-CCC security concerns) and steamed out of Elf Harbour on my way.

Here's the course I followed, while I was furiously chewing bubble gum to patch all the leaks I found with. Look, if you open this map in another window, it won't be so blurry.
Start is obvious: Elf Harbour, home to the greatest tavern in the Continent. Here I took out several dock struts trying to pull my submarine out of a parallel parking job. That thing is loud when it bangs against things. Stop banging things against my thing!


1. Shea Imbrium: At this point in the journey, I sailed past a shipwreck. Nothing unusual to report, except that unlike other sea cruises I've had in the area, I've had to dodge humpback whales trying to sink me from above instead of from below the waves. Humpback whales hold monster grudges, remember that.

2. ElvenMoor: I was patching up even more leaks in my submarine after a weapons test brought on by curiosity resulted in my hull being compromised to 68% integrity by an explosive-tipped harpoon hitting a sandbar way too close to me. The river flowing out to Shea Nectaris was actually so shallow that my submarine could have gained unneeded attention if the sole occupant of the nearby sandbox had looked to her right, as it was flopping like a salmon fighting its way upstream. The rivers after the mouth were surprisingly deep, however, and disregarding tight turns, the rivers were very accommodating for the Hunley. However, I had to cheat to get past the final bend before I could steam through the swamps of The Glimmering, surprisingly free of gators (Not crocs, princess) and pop tart-eating pixies. Braving those marshes led me to...

3. The GreenGaia: The deep water port and waterfront market of the wonderful principality known as The Green was a calm place where I threw my own "Steel Beach" picnic for a good ten minutes wondering if my friend Ayjla would log in and pull out her hair, seeing me playing with a floating bomb in her very waters. In addition, I was running the risk during my little picnic of a certain, crotchety dragon swooping down and igniting my explosives with a rather furious breath of caloric.

Nope. Guess I'll announce it later, Ayjla.

4. Shea Temporis: Having come here after perilously navigating some nasty reefs that attempted to send my submarine tumbling to my watery grave without a watery funeral or a watery coroner to examine it, I have to pause and stop to see the strange formations on the island home of the Only Cowboy West of the Shire.

The hell?

5. Shea Insularum: Ok, if I have my Latin correctly remembered, this is supposed to insinuate that there's an island around here. I'm only seeing reefs. Well, I did stop to see this thing (Where's my picture?)
So explain to me what this is? Two statues of Vulcan Gypsies holding up the piece of leather they stole off the spine of a NKJ Bible? That's something for the 2010 census statistics.
Oh, wait. I get it. "Welcome to the Elf Lands".
Wait, hold on, there's nobody here. Most people enter the Elf Lands through ElvenGlen, don't they? So if you're sailing past there from the Isle of Wyrms (Which in 2008 I proved is deadly if performed in large numbers) are they welcoming mariners through the ass end of Elfland?

Dubyatee-eff?

6. Solheimer: I didn't actually sail here, but I wanted to tell you that I once sworded a few villagers here back when I RPed there.

7: Limbo: This was interesting. I managed to sail through this extremely busy sandbox in a 40-foot submarine in 15 feet of water, and nobody notices? I was picking up voice chatter everywhere, as well. I gave into the temptation to hold onto my headset like a radioman on a Navy sub spying on Kruschev's boys. I remember not a thing about what they were talking about, however. I moved on to the next sim, surprised that the dragons flying directly over me didn't notice the submarine in the water.

End: Hatchie Haven. Here's where I surfaced, dialed my buddies and got to say "Guess what I'm doing.......nope, I'm sailing cross-country on a 19th-century deathtrap!"

So what did you do today?

The Queen and I

Well, today's off to a late start, as are most other days. I hereby contemplate an earlier bedtime.

Now, what was I doing today? I believe it's to:

• Buy chocolate - Everyone loves chocolate!
• Continue drafting sim constitution - Everyone loves constitutions! I see charters everywhere I go, dictating what an individual cannot do in a given area. Well, that tone isn't always pleasant, though there's comfort in the protection from ill outside influence that the law provides. What I don't see often is documentation explicitly dictating what an administration can't do to its people. As long as a community proves a reasonable level of maturity, it shouldn't be difficult to protect its folks from enemies foreign *and* domestic, should it? Nanny states are soooo 2009.

• Write blog entry about Queen Star - Everyone loves Queen Star!

Oh yeah, that's what I was supposed to be doing! Right, on with it.

As I've made clear in my last entry, there is a woman in my life who holds a place of high regard and adoration with me. And while I fight often furiously to defend her honor, she is more often than not fighting her foes herself and defending my own honor. Seriously, she will eat you if you come after me. Boudica reborn, really.

I speak of this lovely lady, though the true heroine is the lovelier lady at her helm.

-= Her Majesty, Queen Star =-

Star is the Queen of our island nation and the woman I married. She's beautiful beyond belief in every way, and knows how to make me smile on my worst days. She is easy to make friends with and easier to love. She runs a shop, Star's Fantasia and likes to experiment with building and texturing, which sometimes leads me to review my own building theories. She's wise beyond her years too, and she'll be mopping the floor with you if you don't believe that and treat her accordingly. (Well, unless I threw up after one pint of rum too many- then I'm mopping the floor with you.) As seen in my Christmas present to her, the SL storybook The Pirate and The Princess, legend has it that I met her shortly after she narrowly saved my cutthroat keister from being eaten in a horrifying siren feast. Things have gotten better for me ever since.

Let's face it, the concept of marriage on SL is ubiquitously a whipping boy in and outworld and for good reason. Stereotypically, a marriage lasting longer than 15 minutes is frequently and sarcastically praised. I think this is because of the communication difficulties inherent in a virtual world, and that a lot of SL couples consist of incredibly immature folk. (Like me, actually.) Anyway, it's something I was told to think carefully about and a commitment I recommend to avoid in any world unless you are absolutely sure you know what you're doing and who you can trust. These are real people, not AI's.
However, marriage has worked beautifully for us, Star and I. Many people could say it was against all odds when looking at Second Life as a whole, but we're dedicated to each other and have eyes for each other and no one else. We understand there will be difficult times and we get through them. That and we got lucky.


Back to Star. This queen has the heart of a mother and the soul of a goddess. She is understanding and is often helping me back on my feet after I've taken a fall and wounded my dignity. She never forgets me in thick, nor abandons me in thin. She not only puts up with my outrageous stunts, she joins in the lunacy. I once told Her Majesty that I was taking a team of pirates with me to the moon, to which she responded by asking me to bring back cheese (which I did, to her delight.)

Anyway, it is impossible to keep us apart. And one day, may it be soon, I'll wake up next to her on our honeymoon.

Love you, princess!

Found it!

It's been far too long since I've written down a journal entry. Well, do you know why I'm doing this, reader? Not because I expect you to. As a matter of fact, go ahead and hit the back button. See, I have this friend, Ember, who tells me that my escapades deserve to be chronicled into a journal. How far will I go with this? Time will tell.

It's time to introduce myself, anyway. I'm one of those folks snared away by Second Life, masquerading as an avatar, distorting their own image. You'll know me as Callidus Waydelich. I am a pirate, an astronaut, a cowboy, and for a good 2 months was the King of the Elf Lands, though this last claim remains mired in controversy. I am also very tired and can expect this entry to be none too coherent.

Never mind, it's morning and I'm kicking.

Could this be the elusive captain?

This is me, Calli. If you haven't figured out yet, it is a diminuitive of "Callidus" that rolls off the tongue easily, as there are few who know how the latin adjective is actually pronounced, fewer who care, and even fewer who dispute the relatively widely accepted kāl'ĭd'ʌs pronunciation. Frankly, I don't give a...well, you know.
Those of you who are regular denizens of Second Life will notice something immediately. Calli is spindly. Well, I'm comfortable that way. I can't exactly picture myself with 26-inch biceps and a big ol' barrel chest. I'm working on that in my First Life, but even if I don't build up, well, I don't have to deal with the onslaught of adipose in my system once I reach my 40's.

Calli represents much of my real appearance, albeit it a little romanticized with the nice fringe in the hair. He also represents a rogue element in a handful of societies, personifying a freespirited derring-do lost on them long ago in their respective quests for nationhood. His mischief has been well catalogued and received with a broad range of responses, varying from amusement to outright outrage.

I'm very much happily married to a lovely faery queen, (whom I shall go further in-depth on later) and have gone from living out of a friend of a friend's club to managing our own sim, Pirate Fairy Retreat, largely a set of private residences amongst forests. While visitors are welcome, citizenship is by Royal invitation only, so sorry pal!
Anyway, as I get myself tangled in yet another fiasco, I'll be writing about it here. I may put my next posts about people and past experiences, however. It's my blog.