Tuesday, February 19, 2008

burn, baby, burn, when you gonna learn, it's time to put out the fire?

Do not go here.

Oh, you want a reason? Well, then.

First, I've been standing in place, not moving, for twenty minutes; the sim is still not done rezzing in. Partially, perhaps even mostly, this is because the rocks, the trees, the very soil of the sim itself--are all SCULPTS!

ARE THEY INSANE?!?! They have to be. They have to be taking serious Second-Life-altering drugs.

It's not even worth waiting for the art to rez in, either, for all it's very impressive--


Because it's one hundred and eight prim!! I mean yes, it's beautiful, and yes, it does make quite the visual impact. But really--ONE HUNDRED! AND EIGHT! PRIMS!

And also it's behind a wall:


So really. Honestly. Don't come here.

Want more reasons why not to come here? I was standing, in the last picture, next to a butterfly-spouting pink tulip, and could barely move. So I turned, to face a barely animated glade, and my frames per second surged to the blinding forward speed of...*breathless pause*...1.3 fps! Astounding!


Yes, I'm being sarcastic.

That's just slightly over one frame per second, for those not keeping score at home. If you need a local reference for such numbers, dear friends, let me put it this way--were you to find a two-hour motion picture moving at this speed, you'd need a goodly supply of food and tea, and perhaps a very comfortable chair, and certainly a blanket, because you'd need a little less than sixty hours, I believe, to watch the film.

A hand-crank operated Nickolodeon machine is faster than the frame rate I have now. Phaugh.

(Though I do heartily recommend reading the artist's profile, the one who created the one-hundred-plus prim Icarus? Because there are moments of sheer joy to be found, reading the words of Nomasha Syaka.)


After yesterday's Wake-that-Wasn't, some few of us gathered at a seaside pub named the Salty Mermaid. I didn't catch where it was; I was in something of an odd mood, not bad, necessarily, just wondering about the oddity of the wake and the survival propensity of certain Expedition members.

[Insert from the Editrix: it turns out this is an establishment in Kittiwickshire, owned by the reknowned Professor Oolon Sputnik. Lovely little place.]


I think I was fine until I asked for a drink. And mine was...glowing green, and reminded me oddly of apples and citrus in taste, but...looked like cavorite blended with ice. It started to levitate, and I grew worried, and Miss Neome said, oh, that sounds like fun...

So I gave mine to her.


I'm not sure that was any better. Because she couldn't get close enough to *catch* it so it would *stop* floating!

Odd drinks in the Salty Mermaid. But a very clean, efficient space, and close enough to the docks to retain that lovely crisp salted-air smell. I'll have to go back when they're not stocked with odd floating fruit drinks...


Frau Lowey said...

Actually *cough* that drink was from my private stock...

Kira said...

That's Oolon's Bar, in Kittiwickshire. It's quite the fun spot :)


Emilly Orr said...

Frau Lowey: You need to train your drinks better. :p

(Seriously, *did* it contain cavorite? The levitation properties were...somewhat astounding.

Miss Kira: Wonderful, I have two reasons to visit, now! (Mayhap three--I still need to ask him if there's some sort of dispelling effect for Time Lords...a spray...or...Maybe just one for the gargoyle-shaped ones.)

Baron K. Wulfenbach said...

Ah, Fraulein. *tsch*

The pub is right across Robert Burns Street from the Consulate. Immediately across. As in, 'view from the front door'.

Although perhaps we should have repaired to Der Hut, after all - but then we couldn't have watched the boys play with the train.


Klaus Wulfenbach

Emilly Orr said...

I was...somewhat distracted!

Besides, barring one salon, I hadn't *been* to the Consulate.

Right, that's it, when next in world I'm visiting all of them. High time.

Baron K. Wulfenbach said...

The landmarks are in the flags on my desk, but Antiquity's missing at the moment.

Not the flag. The building.

The Grand Duchess took it away and hasn't given it back yet. Rather perturbing.


Emilly Orr said...


And she's given no reason?

Perturbing, indeed.

Corgi said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Baron K. Wulfenbach said...

I beg your pardon for the above - someone else's account was active when I tried to post my reply, which is:

Oh, she's 'reworking' things, but between the nuptial plans, her daughter's illness and whatnot, I have no idea how long it shall take.


Emilly Orr said...

Understandable, and also--odd.

"Reworking" things involves taking back someone else's building??

Baron K. Wulfenbach said...

Ah, that's right, you were not with us that time. Nein, not 'our' building - the Antiquarians gave us a space on Embassy Row free of charge, and either 50 or 100 prims to use. The Vice Consul and Liaison chose that particular building for its defensibility.

I wonder if we'll have to go through all that again whenever Her Grace says she's done.


Emilly Orr said...

Hmm. Sounds problematic.

*giggles briefly, though, thinking of the Dark Court's portion of Brythony, wondering if she could talk the Unseelie into a potential subdivision....*

On the other hand...Jaegers influenced by the Winter Court...would be...odd.

Baron K. Wulfenbach said...

I am starting to think I should at least meet this Queen of yours, as a courtesy. If naught else, I have not had time to tour Brythony. It seems charming from the pictures.


Frau Lowey said...

Unseelie Jägers....


Aha, right - *you* get to tell them about the hunting rules there.

Emilly Orr said...

Point, and most of that will be--don't hunt!

Which, well, may not sit well with our brave impulsive lads. And lasses. :)

But yes, I need to prepare a portfolio on the Winter Court anyway, and discuss a potential meeting, and a great many other things...

...I am beginning to think there are too few hours in a day. Here or elsewhere.