Your interesting hypothetical question for the day.

Let's say...someone comes into SL after a long absence. Has a certain draw, charisma, appears to be connected even though no one not from that era really recognizes the name. It is an old SL name. There are some very old accounts who know who this person is. As far as can be told from the outside, the account seems to be held by a fairly well funded tech hobbyist, at the very least.

How should people best engage with this person? Is aggression, negativity and backstabbing useful? It may have removed this person from SL's sphere of influence for some time, but...the avatar seems to be back, with no real intent to leave. So, even if aggression, negativity and backstabbing had been used in the past, is it at all useful now?

Would befriending this account be a better idea? Or if not befriending, at least tolerating?

Let's toss in something else. Let's say this person is very loyal to friends, very supportive of friends, in all ways, and very much death, at least in a philosophical sense, to enemies. Wouldn't it be easier to be a friend? Wouldn't it require far less effort than declaring direct opposition?

You have someone, in essence, who's willing to throw away monthly rent on a studio apartment in New York, effectively, in perpetuity, without monetization--is fighting this person in the best interests of anyone, long-term?

I'll leave you with one statement from the avatar in question:

"I tried for years to build things that complement or [are] part of existing estates. Given the aggressive behavior trying to drive me away, I decided to just build my own space."

Isn't that what Des did? Isn't that what the Clockwinder did? Isn't that why Baron Wulfenbach now has his own sim? That they just wanted to build things they wanted to see in the world? Why is this wrong?

But the more people try to drive this kind of creativity away, the less the person behind the creativity is going to care about your projects.

At the end of the day, no one is asking anyone to fall in love with this particular account. Not hating him would be good. Not trying to spin falsehoods about his motivations would be great. But there's a great deal of live and let live going on. This avatar is not interested in making things untenable, they're just tired--we're all tired--of other people making the situation untenable.

So maybe that's the last point, after all. If you can't like this account...if you can't tolerate this account...can you at least employ basic civility and realize that honey will work better than battery acid in the long run? He's been willing in the past to support a variety of projects, and it's only prevalent, constant, dunning distrust and rumor-mongering that's driven him from supporting many things he did in the past. He's still able to offer support. Maybe even could be talked into it again.

But not as long as things stand as they are. Who wants to play in a space where they're distrusted, sniped about, whispered about? Where their motivations are constantly second-guessed? Where the rumor mill constantly grinds? Who wants to go back to that sort of high-school environment?

Where's the creativity in that? Where's the joy in that?

That's all. Just something to consider.

(Continued from part V.)

Justine jumped down from the mech to the street, then grinned, and climbed up the legs again to jump down a second time. Emilly heard things rattling in the office above. The blonde woman just shook her head, grimacing.

"It's a good thing the Governor is off on business, or else the jails might be full."

Justine tried to look chagrined. The crinkling of her eyes betrayed her inner glee.

The Duke simply shrugged. "For what, Doctor? Nothing has happened...no one's hurt..."

The dark-haired woman called up to the blonde as she headed towards the raised sidewalk. "Don't worry, Doc...wherever they ask me to go it can't be worse than L̸͎̠̼͑͗̏o̵͈̹͙̼̱̅̓̆̏͜š̸̛͈̗̞͍̝̉͐͂t̶̟̄̒̽̄̚ ̴̦̺͗́͂͝͝S̷̢̪̿h̵̲̦̾̾ǫ̶͎̞̳̔͂̋͒̚ŕ̴̠̱͒͊͘̕̕è̶̢̺̞͚͊͛̄̄͠s̶̲̱̳̃̕ͅ!"

That was another phrase that hurt, Emilly thought, putting a hand to her temple. Hiro briefly looked at her, then walked forward.

"No one's hurt," he repeated, then his voice lowered to a murmur. "Except me..."

Emilly casts a glance back at the blonde on the balcony, then back at Hiro. "Don't tempt her..."

The blonde, meanwhile, threw her arms up, sighing volubly. "Well, I am going to have to pick BULLETS out of the walls near the radio station...MINOR complication..."

"You don't want to go destroy killer clowns," Hiro muttered. Emilly peered at him again.

"Who doesn't?"

He just shook his head, and she sighed.

"Let's go see this painting," she said, following after them.

Hiro nodded once, decisively. "Mr. Companion Detective--"

She tilted her head at that. Detective? She thought he was a doctor.

"--Lady Orr--Duchess," he corrected, and again she tilted her head. Why had he said 'Lady' to begin with?

"--I'll summon a portal."

The dark-haired woman tilted her head now in puzzlement. "Not the painting first?"

He paused, blinking.

"Duke?" Emilly asked carefully. Down the street, Justine had finally finished packing the mech back into the small case.

"Wait for me!" she yelled, running towards them.

Hiro looked at her, then back at Emilly. "We need the painting?"

Emilly shrugged. "Dunno."

It didn't take them long to get to the weathered hotel the woman was apparently staying in. She unlocked the front door, heading up a very similar set of stairs to their office. She paused just before opening the door to her room.

"No judging," she said, and Emilly blinked.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

(Continued in part VII.)

(Roleplay entry. Continued from part CLVII.)

A fragment from a past not ours...

When the Malaclypse struck Aetheria, the people had only a handful of months to prepare. The best mages from all the competing courts drew together and pooled their energies, extending the time remaining enough to build generation ships--ships large enough, powerful enough, that some might survive long enough to settle a new homeland. One by one, the Radiomaster watched the ships blink out of range of the scanners, and knew it was finally time.



He'd elected to stay behind--someone strong enough had to, to hold the spells distorting the flow of time around the planet. But that time was drawing to a close, and he, along with the interwoven threads of all the spells, would be torn asunder when the planet's core exploded. Malathian, they had managed to slay, finally, but his destructive will yet moved through the very soil under the Radiomaster's feet.



He made final preparations, laying in his narrow bed in the highest tower. He had no idea how far the shreds of distorted reality would extend. He hoped, for all their sakes, it would be confined to their own star system, but--even that surety had been stripped from them with Malathian's curse.



He breathed out, slowing his heartbeat, his breathing, his skin chilling with his efforts. He had done all he could. And with one last flick of directed thought, he let go of the massed spells. A brief moment of searing pain, a sensation of shattering, and the oddest feeling of being watched, by a--cat? In the guise of a man?



Then even that was gone, and the fragments of Aetheria raced through the time stream, to land where they would.



And the fragments of destroyed Aetheria raced through the timestreams, some ending up on a place known as Tanis...

(Roleplay entry. Continued from part CLVI.)

A *click* as the comms opened, followed by Justine's voice. "To All Duchy Citizenry. I'm going to make an attempt to retrieve the eldritch Warhead. All assistance welcomed."

Laurence’s voice on the channel: "Message received, support is now on its way, over."

"Ruhroh," said the bard.

"Oh, no," said the Duchess. "Okay, I'll change."

"All units, report?" she heard Justine say, as she found an outfit and flew to Darktow, diving into the Dark Sea.

"Swift here," said Thomas.

"Alive and well," said Laurence. "All units accounted for."

"No work for me?"

That was a new voice. Emilly struggled to place it as she approached the site. Doctor...Anael? No. Azazel? No. Something...

"No work for me?" he said, and it clicked into place. Araphael! That was it!

She approached, seeing the flashes of light through the water. Right, there was still an active hostile. Thankfully, she had found a working weapon in the interim.

She heard Laurence laugh. "Don't sound too disappointed Doc, there are plenty of life forms here to study."

She approached, landing on the sea bottom, weapon held at the ready, and as soon as her feet were beneath her she started firing. And firing. And firing. Bolts of green sang through the dark waters, landing too far away for her to tell if she'd truly hit the remaining hostile--but the fact she wasn't getting shot back made her hopeful.

"If the Duchess isn't too busy blasting them to pieces," Laurence said, laughing.

"No, no, that was the tentacle star. We've alreeady examined one of those--up close. We don't need to capture another one."

"I'm actually relieved," said the doctor.

"Best be on guard," Laurence aded grimly.

"I think I will be fine, I am partially tentacle as well," the doctor added, and Emilly blinked. Partially what?

"All I know is, I'll be happy when we get this thing back to Tannhauser. The water right now tastes FOUL."

She watched a large flat carrier vehicle move through the waters as she walked towards the smoking husk of the last hostile.

"The sky truck seats three, if anyone else wants a ride," Justine said over the comm.

"Laurence? I can swim back up and meet you at the station?" she asked, watching Araphael climb into the back seats.

"Take the Duchess, I will secure the area," Laurence said.

"All right, then." She climbed onto the truck, watching the servos help Justine drag the eldritch thing to the back of the vehicle.

"No problem at all," Justine said. "I'm going to bring this to the hangar on level eight, and we can figure out what to do with it from there."

"Who know if there's anything else lurking down here," Laurence said darkly. She sighed, nodding.

"That's what worries me." She checked the map again, brow furrowing. "The Dark Sea ghost is still reading on the map, so be careful along the border, Laurence."

"Get back safe," he said.

Up they went, through layers of dark water, breaching into air. She coughed for a bit, converting back to breathing oxygen, and they went up, until the air became very thin. Justine touched a button and a bubble shield sprang up around the truck. It took a bit of jockeying, but finally, the cargo was in the hangar, they dismounted, and Justine flew off to park the sky truck.

"The cargo is secure in the classified hangar on deck eight," Justine said.

"Copy that," Laurence replied. "Were there any issues on the way back?"

"Not at all. Everything is five by five."

She grinned ruefully at the doctor, as the hangar doors closed, and they walked back into the station. "The one thing that went according to plan."

The doctor smiled back.

"Yes," said Laurence. "It was a nice, smooth operation."

Justine laughed. "Well, after how rough the first half of the operation was, we needed something to go right!"

"Too true!" She waved at the doctor at the lift, and went up to the command deck to leave a report for the Duke.

(Continued in part CLVIII.)

(Roleplay entry. Continued from part CLV.)

"I'm in front of something stone..." said Swift, in a concerned voice.

Emilly floated in the water just offshore, watching the wreckage. "Yeah," she said. "Near Steam."

"With waving tentacles..."

Emilly blinked. "Oh, no, that's supposed to be there."

"What?" Swift asked, after a long pause.

Emilly dove back underwater, swimming to where the underwater temple used to be. She lands neatly on the sand beside Swift, peering into the well of writhing green flesh.

"Maybe I should have put up a sign? 'Harmless'? Or, at least--'Contained'?"

Swift just stared at her, then shook his head, and swam back to the gunship.

"We can't get close enough to them," said Laurence.

"I got a heat grenade type shell--try that?" asked Briggs.

"Try it!" said Justine.

Emilly swam closer, trying to edge around the remains of the ship still at the crash site.

"I've got eyes on--" Justine said. "They're firing on something!"

Emilly groaned, gouting blood into the dark waters, midsection charred. She was very, very glad she was no longer carrying the heirs.

"Me," she finally whispered, slowly swimming away, returning to the TG tram, summoning a shuttle to take her to Tannhauser Gate station. "I got too close. That...is a very big gun..."

"That shell hit!" crowed Justine.

"Damn things can repair themselves too," said Laurence.

"They--WHAT?" yelped the Duchess.

"Direct hit!" said Laurence. "One hostile down."

"[Sh*t]," said Justine. "There's one left."

"This is Gearhaven Actual," Hiro said for the third time. "Return to Tannhauser Gate. Mission scrubbed. New data to be reviewed in second mission briefing."



"Briggs, can you pick us up and get us back to the station?" asked Justine.

"Yes," he said. "Packing up now."

"Laurence, stay with me. We're waiting for extraction. Tom, you're awfully close to the crash site. Are you taking fire from the one remaining hostile?"

"On board the ship," said Swift.

As Justine and Laurence boarded, Laurence checked Justine over for wounds. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

"I think I'm okay," she said, holstering her blaster. "Tannhauser Command to Duchess Emilly, come in?"

Emilly didn't answer, shifting on her way up to Tannhauser, picking a form mostly at random--a pale bunny. She felt rather helpless for this fight, maybe that was why. She made her way to the command deck. Hiro was peering intently at the screen when she arrived.

"So what is our situation?" Justine asked. "We eliminated three of the four hostiles. There are still tentacle monsters. But most importantly, TOTS appears to have moved."

"Right," Emilly said, slumping into a chair. Hiro looked over with concern.

"As far as I know, the Duchess is the only one who actually saw the ship move and knows where it is."

Emilly nodded at Justine's words, even though Justine couldn't see the motion. "I don’t think the cargo's on board anymore..."

"No?"

"No, I think it's still at the crash site."

"Let's go to the briefing room. If anyone has visual recordings of the crash site, please share them with me."

Justine, back on the station, took the lift to deck 02. "Okay, let's get what we've got up on the screen here."

"This is what's left at the crash site," she said, pointing out the forward section of the ship, the various threats around it, and the--whatever it was--that had slid partially into a deep furrow behind the ship.

"One hostile, some interdimensional incursion, and...one guardian monster."

Emilly leaned forward, peering at the image. "Hiro, no," she said softly.

Hiro looked over at her, shaking his head. She sighed and sat back in the chair.

"The cargo is a weaponized eldritch warhead," Hiro said.

Justine frowned. "I...see."

"We bought it from an instance of Jack Parsons...We do need it back on the station before anyone--the Federation, the UAP, et cetera...get it."

"Oh, we get it," Justine said darkly. "It's still being guarded by one remaining hostile. We've learned that if we fire at the hostiles enough, they stop firing back briefly. We might be able to get past it and retrieve the cargo, and get back out."

"What happened to the others?" he asked. "Did you kill them?"

Justine nodded. "Chief Briggs was able to take them out with heavy artillery, before he ran out of shells. A launched heat grenade took out the last one we were able to destroy."

Justine looked down at the control panel. "Hold on...I've got a shot of the new location of TOTS." She threw up the image of the collection of scrap metal.

"And that, friends and neighbors, is where the ship ended up," Emilly said.

"That is close to GH," Hiro said. "Is the site secured?"

"It's IN Gearhaven," Emilly retorted. "Or at the very least, just edging into the Dark Sea, but on land. If you were standing at that center lithon, Hiro, and walked left? You'd be at Steam."

Justine sighed. "Well, it appears the core is no longer on fire, at least."

"No, but...it fractured," Emilly said.

"So we can worry about that later," Justine said.

"Any news on the survivor?" Laurence asked.

Emilly shook her head. "Never got close enough to the ship. Kept getting shot."

"Justine..." Hiro began. Justine startled as all the station klaxons started screaming.

"STAN! What is that??"

STAN turned the screen black, before words scrolled up:

STAN: Eldritch anomaly detected.

An image appeared on the screen. Emilly sat up in the chair. "Wait! I saw one of those! I pointed that out to Briggs when we were going to the shuttle!" She turned to Hiro. "You don't have ANOTHER of those alien--things--aboard still, do you??" she asked frantically.

"I doubt it," Hiro said.

"The fact that you're not sure fills me with dread."

"STAN, bring all station defenses online!" Justine cried out, tapping the control panel. The picture changed to something desaturated and slightly grainy.



"Please tell me this isn't a live feed," said Laurence.

"I think it is," replied Justine. "STAN? What is going on?" She rushed to a separate terminal, pulling up data from the scanners.

STAN: All defensive systems online.

"Okay, so...We have a lost weapon guarded by hostiles in the Dark Sea," the Duke said slowly. "A moving crash site close to the Mansion...We have--whatever--happened...last night...and now that." He pointed at the screen.

Justine looked puzzled. "There's nothing on the scanners." She looked up. "Laurence, can you see anything?"

Emilly looked over her shoulder. "That's not possible."

"It is if something is jamming us," Justine said.

"Are we being jammed?" Hiro asked.

Justine ran a frequency modulation bypass filter on the scanners. Laurence looked over her shoulder.

"What the hell are they?" he asked.

Emilly shrugged. "I don't know."

"I'm heading to Command Ops," Hiro said, moving at speed out of the room. Everyone else piled out after him, running to the gunship again. Justine stumbled over to the copilot seat, strapping in in a hurry.

"Shields up!" Hiro said. "Reactors online!"

"I see them! West side of the station," Justine said. "Behind the cathedral. Chief, can you take us there?"

Briggs flew around the station, zeroing in the on the targets in the gunship.

Emilly stood, starting to move towards the door, and paused. She looked down, seeing pinpricks of red slowly blooming on her white dress. She tapped her comm, not sure if it was still on.

"Guys...I don't think...the patch work held..."

There was screaming over the comms, then--

"Briggs? BRIGGS!" yelled Justine.



Emilly fell to her knees, holding her stomach. She tried to stagger to her feet, and collapsed. Everything...went...dark.

(Continued in part CLVII.)

(Roleplay entry. Continued from part CLIV.)



Just as Briggs reported he had exhausted his supply of shells, the radio crackled to life. It was Hiro. "This is Gearhaven Actual; Justine, do you copy?"

"Roger, Gearhaven Actual. This is Commander Johndory."

The comms lit up with cross-chatter.

"Under heavy fire!" yelled Laurence.

"All right, I can get about fifty meters from the crash site--" the Duchess chimed in.



"We've got some sort of--hellmouth--open in the center of the Dark Sea," said Justine, "and there's--something--coming out--"

"WHAT?" yelped Emilly.

Justine swerved the Stingray away from the crash site, dodging laser blasts. She turned to look at the jumpseat behind her. "Laurence! Are you all right back there?"

There was a groan over the comms. "Hit again," said the Duchess.

"Briggs? Swift? Report?" said Justine.

Laurence took off his mask, breathing heavily. "Feeling pretty lightheaded--how are you holding up, Justine?"



"This is Gearhaven Actual. Justine! Do you copy?" said the Duke.

"Standing by artillery set-up," said Briggs. "But I'm seeing some straight sights--"

"I'm all right," Justine said. "Heading for Briggs. Swift, keep outside a fifty meter perimeter from the crash site."

The Stingray was hit on the next pass. Justine struggled with the controls. Between gritted teeth she spat out "She...isn't...responding..."



"It's moving again!" yelled Emilly. She swam up, following the pieces of the mad ship. It fetched up against land again, this time--just down the hill from Steam towers. Great.

Justine regained control of the little flyer, sliding her right along the land line between the Dark Sea and...the other Dark Sea. "This is going great."

"Return to Tannhauser Gate," said Hiro.



"I'm sorry, GH Actual? Please repeat last command?" Justine asked.

"Do you have a visual on the debris field of the Bad Mofo?"

"Not at the moment, returning there now."

"Duchess...did you say the ship is flying?"

"Not anymore," she said mournfully, staring at the pile of rubble next to the TG tram.

(Continued in part CLVI.)

I present to you in its entirety, the new form of Kevin:

[12:51] llandsberg (nasya002): Hey hey

I need help, I need money for my studies, my relatives do not have it, so I have to somehow get out of it.

I need $1600 on this, but not just like that, on loan
I don't know who to turn to anymore, so I ask you
if you need to give something as a pledge-no problem

I'm asking very much, please
[12:52] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
[12:52] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): Go away, Kevin.

This scammer's been on the grid for seven years, OR hacked the account of the actual nasya, but either way, it's worth the warning. Block and report if seen.

Some people. Sheesh.

I reported her for fraud and blocked her. If you see her pop up, I suggest you do the same.

(Roleplay entry. Continued from part CLIII.)

Justine and Laurence swooped in on the crash site in the Mk 1 Stingray two-seater. She was quick and maneuverable, but the guns are not live, so they were basically helpless sitting ducks at this point. They deployed all sensors and began taking data.

"We're taking fire!" said Justine, turning away from the crash site.

"I have a visual on a possible survivor," reported Laurence.

"I'm going to take us in a bit closer, Laurence. Stay on those scanners."



Meanwhile, Emilly dove through the dark water, quickly growing gills to breathe. She saw part of the ship tumbling in the distance, and a fixed part straight ahead. She swam towards it, landing on the black sea bottom--and felt lasers cutting through the water near her.



She ran in the other direction, towards the moving part of the ship.



Justine and Laurence flew around the crash site, taking fire repeatedly. On each pass they relayed coordinates back to Briggs. On the sea floor, Tom Swift kept an eye on the crash site, reporting back the results of the artillery bombardment.



Meanwhile, Emilly soon found herself stranded in shadow. It wasn't called the Dark Sea for nothing, but she found herself resenting the dark sands and dark waters for the first time. It made it nearly impossible to see. She thought the ship was ahead of her--and then it was, tumbling over her and trapping her inside. They rolled unevenly along until it fetched up against something and stopped.



Now where were they?

She swam out of the cargo bay she'd been trapped in, trying to get her bearings. If they were still in the Dark Sea, and not in Tannhauser--or even Krakenstorm--she'd be surprised.



She relayed her location over the comms, and then swam back to the crash site.

"HOLY--" she yelped as another laser shot past her--or maybe it hit, as the burning line of pain on her side helpfully informed her. "Those things are long range!"

(Continued in part CLV.)

(Roleplay entry. Continued from part CLII.)

Eventually, they all had something that fit, at least save the Duchess. Who frowned at the round vintage pistol she held. She wasn't even sure it would fire underwater.



Briggs looked puzzled. She shrugged. "The one gun I KNOW I have is fairly useless--Derringer-sized palm pistol. But I have been rated to carry it."

Briggs looked dubious. She didn't blame him.



"Duchess, can you keep an eye on the scanners, please? Take us in, Briggs."



Emilly pulled out her pad, watching. "Readings are...confusing. I can pick out the ship parts. I think. But there's...organics down there? I thought Hiro said the crew was rescued?"

Justine mused, "The organics could be the hostiles, or the...well, it could be the cargo."

Laurence asked, "What exactly were they transporting down there?"

"We don't know," answered Emilly. "The cargo was classified."



Laurence offered, "So what if the threat and the cargo turn out to be the same thing? God only knows what they were transporting. What are our rules of engagement if that does turn out to be the case?"

"Our mission is to neutralize the hostiles and retrieve the cargo," Justine replied, somewhat unhelpfully.

"Understood."

STAN's vaguely mechanical voice came over the gunship's speakers. "Additional intel and new secondary objective. There appears to be one survivor still on the ship. Passenger was not on manifest."

Emilly rolled her eyes again. "Oh, great."



"Hold on, here we go!" And with that, the Varyag dove beneath the waves. The crash site was barely visible through the murky waters of Dark Sea when the ship came under fire. "Retreat, retreat! What now?"

"Forget the guns, we need someone with a nuke," offered the Duchess.

John replied grimly, "I got artillery."

"Is the Prometheus in the area?" Emilly asked.

"Yeah, that one," said the Chief. "Ask Hiro, it's got big orbital cannons on it."

Justine nodded. "Okay, Briggs, head to Gearhaven and set up the artillery. Laurence and I will get you coordinates."

Emilly looked up from the scanners, alarmed. "We have bigger problems. TOTS is moving."

A mechanical voice came from her pad. "Core Computer: Ten seconds to core failure. Core Computer: Nine..."

"Damn it, ship, slow down!" cried Emilly. She unbuckled and flung herself into the cargo hold, opening the ramp, following the out of control remnants of TOTS.

(Continued in part CLIV.)