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AOL NEWS YEARBOOK Earthdate January 1996 |
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AOL NEWS YEARBOOK Earthdate January 1996 |
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THE MONTH IN BRIEF The year opened with mini-planets being added to the game, allowing players to buy a ready-made planet. This meant that those who didn't have the creative streak necessary to design their own planets could still become POs and have a go at running the economy of a world. The Tungsten Tourist Trap Trophy was introduced, awarded to the planet that attracts the most visitors each day, along with the princely sum of 15 meg. Hazed despaired of ever keeping her location descriptions within the required amount, so bribed the TechDroid to increase the allowance from 432 to 1000 characters. Duchies were limited in size to 15 planets (including the capital). Previously there had been no size limit. The most asked-for change in the universe was made... <C PRICE commodity> was changed to just show the prices for the duchy you were in, with a variant continuing to show you prices on every single one of the hundreds and hundreds of planets. GrahamM organised a kissing contest! Frantic preparation was undertaken by prospective candidates, and winners were... well, see the stories below. The first Walrus of Merit for the year was awarded to Nikko, owned by RBStoddard. StarRavin linked his new planet, Rasta, into the game and before the day was through he'd gone dead-dead on his own planet! Very unfortunate. Finally... it was Hazed's birthday, and as a special surprise, the Game Hosts put together their own edition of the Fed news. Some of the stories are re-printed below.
Now that there are over 100 player-planets in the game (gasp!) it is time to remind you that when you explore planets outside the Solar System, you do have to exercise some caution. Player-planets can be dangerous - either intentionally, or by accident! When a new planet is linked, the owner may have got some things wrong. It happens. So it's possible you will find yourself trapped somewhere, in a room with no way out. If that happens, you can either <SUICIDE> to put yourself in the hospital, or sell your spaceship and <TRAVEL> to safety on another planet. You can then approach the PO to ask for reimbursement. It is possible that the owner has deliberately made the planet dangerous. There are no rules stating that planets have to be safe. It is customary for people to put their insurance offices in the same location as their hospitals, or at least very close - but they are not obliged to do so. In fact, if someone wanted to be really antisocial he could make a planet a death-trap, where it was impossible to get out of the hospital safely! This does not mean you should be afraid to explore player-planets. Far from it! There's a great deal of fun, and often big rewards, to those who venture away from the trading exchange and maybe try to solve the puzzles on player-planets. But you should be careful, and always, always, always make sure you are insured. If in any doubt - if you die but don't know where the insurance office is - then play it safe, travel to safety. It costs you groats, but at least you won't go dead-dead!
In response to advance sales of the 1996 Federation Pin-up Calendar breaking all previous sales records, a group of outraged Fed-citizens surrounded CDs this week, carrying placards and chanting protests. Patrons of the popular drinking establishment were forced to run the gauntlet of the angry mob. When our newsdroid questioned a couple of the militants as to why they are so up-in-arms about the calendar, they replied that the moral fiber of all Fed DataSpace is at stake, threatened by the calendar's revealing holography. Furthermore, it is their intention to remain camped out around CDs until every issue of the offending publication is deposited in a pile and burned, thus insuring the purity and innocence of all Federation children now and in the years to come. You know, it would seem that holograph of 'Oxcart At His Favorite Hobby' was just too much for some folks!
As reported in last week's news, sales of the 1996 Federation Pin-up Calendar have been brisk. So brisk in fact, that vendors just can't seem to keep them on the shelves - the calendars sell out in a matter of minutes. In addition, delivery of further printings of the calendar have been delayed due to sabotage attributed to certain consumer groups that wish to protect the moral fiber of Fed citizenry. Due to all these factors, it seems that there are not enough calendars to go around. Many unfortunates have found themselves without a copy of this calendar. So, as a special service to our devoted readers, we will describe each month's hologram for you. So, without further ado, let us describe for the benefit of those who don't have a copy, the holograph above the month of January. January features the legendary Fed Host SunKeeper, wearing a silly grin. (No, that's not ALL he's wearing!) The Holo shows him posing in the foreground in a very short pair of shorts and a tank top. He is holding a dictionary in his hand, although it appears to be not an English dictionary, but Occyese. SunKeeper's muscles bulge in the most unusual places and are almost sufficient to distract the eye from the food stains on his shirt. Although he seems to have recently washed, you wonder whether it's really very hygienic for SunKeeper to have bare feet in the kitchen, which is where he is. In the background are all the appropriate kitchen utensils - a spatula, rusty egg beaters, spoons, knives, etc. Several beautiful nymphs are in the process of preparing breakfast for SunKeeper - after all, it is his favorite meal. And that, is the month of January in the 1996 Federation Pin-up Calendar.
It was a sad day indeed... when Icedrake's jaws came back to town. When Icedrake ate the planet Warzone, he later promised that he'd never do it again. Players were willing to forgive him for breaking his word and eating the planet Dryal weeks later, because it WAS inhabited by those nasty and annoying little pixies that drove everyone bonkers. (And which, coincidentally, Icedrake gobbled up like popcorn.) But this time, he set his jaws on something much bigger - the Duchy Capital Planet, Scratchwood. It seems Icedrake forgot how to avoid the space interstate from the nether regions, and had to slog through it the long way to get to the planet, apparently to visit Dezah. By the time he got there (why didn't he just teleport over?), he'd worked up his appetite to new highs. And when Dezah refused to let him eat her fridge's contents, well... the next thing the Duchesse knew, Icedrake had eaten the entire planet. Horrified by this turn of events, Dezah ended her life. Well, this wasn't much of a surprise, actually... since with no planet left, she was in outer space with a very limited supply of oxygen! And now, with Forge missing, we can't help but wonder... has Icedrake added a fourth planet to his stomach? We asked Icedrake and his reply was, "*BURP* No comment."
This week the bulletin news office received a small card proudly announcing the birth of twin children. Although the mother was obviously overjoyed at the prospect of bringing up the two little hellions, we couldn't help but wonder whether bringing them into this universe was a wise idea. Federation DataSpace is overcrowded already; is it really necessary to make more babies to take up more precious space? You doubt me, perhaps? Even with all the new planets linked in recently there is still not enough room. Have you tried to rent office space recently? The cost is atrocious! And have you seen land prices? Just take a look at what it costs to buy a planet now-a-days! The real estate market is high, high, high. The reason? There's just not enough space to go around. Some development planners say 'Just build the skyscrapers higher and there will be plenty of room'. But they are forgetting that there is a limit to our life-sustaining resources. How many planets have to be despoiled of their natural beauty in the name of progress, as Profit was, before we realize how precious a virgin planet is. How many planets have to have their resources utterly exhausted, as Castillo and Thespia have, before we realize that there is not enough to go around. Do we have to wait until every planet is reduced to ruins similar to Mars before we see that we are headed on the path to destruction? And is it really fair to the children to put them into a depraved and obscene environment like this one? Anyone who has spent an evening in the Starship Cantina knows that children in this day and age are quickly stripped of their innocence. Is that the proper way to bring up kids? On top of that, children are totally non-productive members of society. They require intensive material resources, to say nothing of the labor involved - they have to be clothed, fed, burped, diapered, rocked, put to sleep, etc, etc. And what do they give back? Nothing! Absolutely nothing! They don't work in the factories, they don't pay taxes, they don't contribute to the society that shelters them at all. They just take, take, take. In light of all of this, we suggest that our good emperor, Ming the Merciless, issue an imperial edict forbidding children. Legislate against them, make it illegal to bear children. Just think, what a happy day it would be, if there where no children wailing, singing, screeching and screaming. No brats running around, soiling the carpet and knocking over the expensive breakables. Perhaps one day we will live in such a paradise.
The response to the kissing contest reported last week has been nothing short of phenomenal. Rumor has it that there will be some big names on the judging panel, including Henry Kissinger, KissODeath and KissNTell (unfortunately KissOSpiderWoman is not able to attend). Meanwhile, contestants are gearing up, forming partnerships, practicing and training for the big event. Competition is so fierce that UwntMyKiss was seen passing out application forms in the Starship Cantina in the hopes of finding a teammate for the contest. Befuddled Newbods were seen fussing over what to put under such headings as 'Related Experience', 'Awards, Prizes, Honorariums' and 'References'. After screening prospective partners with the application, UwntMyKiss then conducted interviews, a part of which a trusty newsdroid was able to observe, thanks to some dedicated 'investigative journalism' (we promise we will repair that hole that was drilled in the wall at the Cantina). Here is an excerpt from a meeting with someone who made it past the first round: 'UwntMyKiss leans over and gives Aurendir the sloppiest, messiest, sexiest, sweetiest snot in da universe.' Why was UwntMyKiss passing around the contents of her nose? Perhaps it was a test to see how far her prospective partners are willing to go in order to win the contest. Perhaps she was practicing an unexpected ploy she plans to use in competition. Perhaps her nose was itchy. In any case, the results of the contest will surely be decided by kismet. The kissing contest will take place today, Saturday January 20th, at 1.00am eastern (well it's Sunday morning really!) on Paradise. The competition is being sponsored by GrahamM and any inquiries for further information should be emailed to him. We'll bring you a report of the Kissing Contest in next weeks news.
The planet Paradise was thronged with visitors last weekend as people came from near and far to see the wonderfully successful kissing contest organized by GrahamM. Thousands of expectant spectators were in attendance to watch the 22 competitors vie for the title of Ultimate Fed Kisser. It was a grueling event that witnessed the exchange of all manner of kiss, embrace, lip-lock, snog, caress, smack, peck, pucker, buss, osculation and smooch (not to mention other more indelicate actions). When all was said and done (and we do mean *all*), it was a close match with the team of SolarBabe1 and Cometeer squeaking out a win over UwntMyKiss and Aurendir. Here is the award-winning kiss: Cometeer pulls SolarBabe onto his lap facing him, her legs straddling his. She leans her head back as he starts kissing her throat... her chin... her lips. He parts her lips with his tongue and gives her a passionate snog! :::a hush falls over the crowd::: SolarBabe1 moans gently, squirming in Comet's lap as he kisses her. She runs her tongue down his neck, biting him gently, before moving to his lips and kissing him with such passion that the halon sprinklers overhead go off, spraying white gaseous clouds....... The event was such a roaring success that GrahamM is already preparing another kissing contest and there are plans to petition for its inclusion as an official medal event at the next Fed Olympics.
This is the story of Little Red Hauler... Once upon a time (about a week ago I think) there was a little girl named Little Red Hauler (bet you didn't see that one coming). Her mother wanted some alloys delivered to her grandmother on Titan. So Little Red Hauler went to the office block and got a permit. Then she walked back to Jarrow Shipbuilders and bought a nice little 75-tonner. Then she went to the landing pad. She keyed in <ACCEPT 57>. She then keyed in <ORBIT>. She went west, north-west, and ran into the Pegasus. The Pegasus TBed her to say, "Where's a nice girl like you going in such a hurry?" Little Red Hauler said, "I'm going to deliver these alloys to my grandmother on Titan." Now, Little Red Hauler didn't know that the Pegasus and the VLA had allied themselves, and the Pegasus thought she would make a nice gift. So the Pegasus went back to Earth and keyed in <GOTO Titan>. The Pegasus had a spybeam, so he knew that Little Red Hauler had just two more sectors until she reached Titan. Pegasus quickly landed and ran to the exchange, where he found Little Red Hauler's grandmother there, trading of course. Pegasus grabbed her and threw her into the transuranics storeroom, after taking all her items. Little Red Hauler's mother had said that Little Red Hauler's grandmother would meet her in orbit. Pegasus knew this, so he rushed back to his ship, and painted it the same way as Little Red Hauler's grandmother's ship was painted. Pegasus raced into orbit, just in time to meet Little Red Hauler. Little Red Hauler said, "My what a big ship you have." Pegasus said, "The better to haul with my dear." Little Red Hauler gave the Pegasus the alloys and said, "My what a high level of computer you have." Pegasus said, "The better to pilot with my dear." Little Red Hauler said, "My what a large amount of engines you have." Pegasus said, "The faster to go with my dear." Little Red Hauler said, "My what a large amount of weapons you have." Pegasus said, "THE BETTER TO SHOOT YOU DOWN WITH MY DEAR!" With that, Pegasus dumped the paint job, and fired at Little Red Hauler. Little Red Hauler's ship was very weak, so Pegasus easily destroyed it. Now, there was this JP named Woodcutter, who was just two megs short of starting the GM puzzle. Woodcutter had destroyed Pegasus before, and knew he could do it again. So Woodcutter went to find Pegasus. When he did, he fired his twin lasers, and with a *ZAP**ZAP**ZAP*, finished Pegasus off. When he saw Little Red Hauler he tractor-beamed her in, and brought her to Earth. When she got home, she told her mother all about it, and Woodcutter and Little Red Hauler's mother were friends from then on (until yesterday). The End
ElvenBlade is popularizing a new pastime that is catching on like wildfire across the universe. ElvenBlade calls this new activity 'Groping for Groats'. The instructions are simple: participants stash money all over their bodies and then try to grab as many groats as they can from the other participants. Elven explains that the strategy used to distribute the IG around your body for maximum enjoyment is every bit as important as the actual groping itself. According to Hollywood gossip, ElvenBlade is in the midst of negotiating with one of the major networks for a syndicated holo-vid game show that would be broadcast in all of the major markets. Neither party was willing to comment on the figures involved.
Federation citizens are reminded that help for all their myriad problems can be found on channel one. We thank DrokTarma for his insightful overview of the comms channels: Your comms unit relays a message from DrokTarma, 'Channel One is the HELP Channel where there are experienced GREETERS and GAMEHOSTS to help you. Tune 10 for Inane Chat, 11 for Witty Banter, 12 for Silly Nonsense, 13 for Intellectual Posturing, and 14 for Psycho-Analysis, Matchmaking and Begging.'
Your comms unit comes to life with
a Public Service announcement from Cryptosporidium,
'Sorry folks, Fed will be closing for 15 minutes in 5
minutes time.'
"Your comms unit relays a
message from RikS8, 'If I'm male, can the GM be in the
ladies' room?'"
Examine ZSaucier...
In January 1996 the Fed staff decided to produce a special edition of the News as a birthday present for the demi-Goddess Hazed. Here are the stories that appeared.
Many, many years ago, when mankind was still in its youth and had not yet long stood on the earth, the great Demi-Goddess Hazed held much wisdom, while mankind was still impetuous and ignorant. At that time, men and women had no knowledge of numbers, so they could not count. This actually wasn't much of a hardship because they didn't have much to count except for maybe a few sheep. But they looked upon Hazed and saw that she could count the trees in the forest and could count the pebbles on the beach and could even count the sheep in their flocks (although she often fell asleep when she tried this). And the men and women spoke among themselves, 'We must have numbers like the great Demi-Goddess Hazed'. So they set out, late one night to steal the secret of numbering from Hazed. Now Hazed, being the near-omniscient Demi-Goddess that she is, knew what they were up to and thwarted their plans. When they entered her lair on their mission of thievery, she captured them in a great cage and leered at them. The men and women pleaded with Hazed, begging her to share the secret of numbering with them. Always moved by a good grovel, Hazed decided to give numbers to mankind. So she signed a contract with mankind, ceding to them the secret of numbers in exchange for their worship and devotion. But, being a mischievous Demi-Goddess, she penciled in an addendum after paragraph nineteen. This addition required that mankind also accept a class of being to tally the numbers, sum the digits, tax their earning and in general be boring at parties. And so accountants came to the earth. And that is the story of how mankind came to be able to count and where accountants came from.
I have always been a history buff and consider myself to be quite versed in most major events that experts feel are the turning points in history. I have gained knowledge through private research of printed records, countless discussions with experts at lush dinner parties, and more to the point, from actual eyewitnesses, using the patented TIMEWARP command. The command is supposed to take you to just one specific place, however on occasion it has been known to....shall we say....dump you somewhere unexpected. This happened to me a couple years ago and here is my story. You must promise me never to repeat a word of what i say here as it could turn history - and cause and effect - on its ear. There I was, dumped again by a piece of bogus code. Looking around me, I smelled good clean air and rolling green hills. I shook my head and decided that I needed a drink. Off I went in search of a tavern. Finding one was not as easy as it sounds, but eventually, I came across one and entered, ordered a stiff drink and surveyed the local populace. No sooner had I taken a good swallow of the local stuff, than a man, as old as the hills and stinking of gin, slid down next to me. "You're not from around here, are ya?" asked the man who had a bad case of hallitosis. I answered, "No. Here by accident really." The old man grunted and looked deep into his half empty glass. I noted he glanced around the room and fidgeted nervously as he turn to me and said, "Then you have never heard the real story behind the potato famine." His accent was thick and I had to concentrate to catch every word. "No, I know only that the potatoes were blighted and many people starved," I remarked. I took a long pull on my drink and leaned back, ready to listen to the old man. "Well, I tell ya, I was there. I know what really happened and was not any blight that I have seen. No sir, no way. It was like this, I was just a young 'un mind ya but I remember it well, as my Daddy actually met the one who caused the potatoes to die," he said. "You mean it was caused by one person?" I asked in stunned disbelief. "Yep. It was. Never knew her real name, she went by a nickname, uh...Hazey, Hazel, or Hassel, something like that. Damn if she didn't have the wildest hair I ever did see. And could she drink! Men in this town used to try to outlast her....never could...hey and come to think of it, she never paid for a stich of the brew. She always got others to buy her drinks. Crafty, she was. My father used to stare at her. He would come home in the early morning hours after following her around from bar to bar, drinking the locals under the table," he said. "OK, so like what has this got to do with the Great Potato Famine?" I asked as I bought him another drink. He began to speak in a low monotone, a glassy look came over his time worn face. "She would not sleep with my father. He always wanted to get her drunk and take her home to his bed. Ya see, sober, she would have nothing to do with him. But none of the brew would even phase her. So my father decided he was the one who could make a brew strong enough to send her over the edge." "Wow!" I said. "Well, he shut himself in the barn and brewed every kind of spirit you could have imagined. He distilled all the local flora and fauna, he tried every fruit you could imagine. He would tote it to the pub every Saturday for her to drink. Nothing would do it. Every Sunday, he would come home more resolved than the last. At last he tried brewing with potatoes as they were cheap and plentiful. He took his potato juice to the pub that eve and gave the lady a sip. Her eyes opened wide and she remarked on how delicious it was and how she could feel it warm her insides. But alas it was not quite potent enough for him to loosen her thighs." The old man took a deep breath and sighed. I was quite interested by now and waited for him to continue. "My father was a hard working man, that is until this Hazen lady showed up here. It was like my father just snapped. He went back to his barn and began to play with his potato mixture every night. He found that if he let a rare insect eat most of the potato then regurgitate, it made for good brewing. The only problem was after eating a potato, the insect reproduced at an alrming rate. Daddy just kept em in a jar. Anyway, the next Saturday, Daddy went to the pub. By now the whole town knew what he wanted and were wondering what he had done this week. Daddy poured a pint of the bitter, yet sweet brew made from insect barf into Her glass. She sniffed and tossed it back. No reaction. About 3 seconds later her eyes rolled back and her cheeks flushed redder than a monkey's butt. She hugged my daddy so hard, the wind was knocked out of him. Needless to say, she went home with him that night. They spent all night in the barn drinking and shrieking like banshees. Damn near scared the farm animals to death. The next day, Dad was walking around with that grin on his face and a burning sensation when he went pee. I have never seen my father so obssesed with anyone before. Well, everynight after that he would take some brew to the pub for her to drink and every morning would go back to the barn to let loose his insects into his potatoes. Hazed being what she was, could drink the shine faster than he could brew it... so my Daddy did the unthinkable." "What was the unthinkable?", I asked. "Well, the way he saw it, he needed more brew....so he let out his bugs into his potato field," he said. "No!" I exclaimed. "Yep, and those damn critters kept eating and eating and eating. Damn near ate every potato on the Isle." I yelped, "I can't believe it! The Famine caused by a single solitary woman?" "Believe it stranger. Believe it," he sighed. I left the pub, my head spinning a bit as my mind tried to digest the implications of that one man's quest. My attention was turned to the present as I excuted the TIMEWARP command and found myself back where I started... with the stink of potato brew still lingering in the air.
Spotted lurking around Federation DataSpace lately were three unidentified men in dark suits and even darker glasses. After taking aside several semi-honest citizens and whispering a few brief words while showing them a picture, they made their way en masse to Chez Diesel (SCSS). Immediately upon entering, they went straight over to our very own demi-godess Hazed's table and whisked her away to the back room. Several minutes passed. A low murmuring began as the patrons wondered what was going on. More minutes passed. Diesel calmly polished the bar with a dingy rag. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the door opened and Hazed was led away in handcuffs, vainly trying to cover her face (as the newshounds had gotten wind of the story by now and were camped outside with cameras ready.) Amid a flurry of yelled questions, accusations, and just plain screaming, Hazed was heard to whimper "But it couldn't have been me! I'm only 29!" Ima Ditze, reporter of legend and myth, skillfully used her charming manner to snag one of the agents and got a statement (purely off the record, of course). "Look", he stated, "I could get in big trouble for this, but take a gander at this picture and tell me what you think." Ima gasped. "See what I mean?" the agent said as he nodded. "It's quite obvious to us that the hobo standing next to the railroad tracks in this picture is none other than Hazed". He continued, "Heck we've been looking for this person since before I was born!" So there you have it! Yes, in an astounding turn of events, we're proud to report to you that our very own Hazed has been positively identified as the second person behind the fence on the grassy knoll! What a downer it must be to get arrested on one's birthday!
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