One could never mistake the majesty and beauty of a Rubi-Kan sunset. For underlying the ambers and yellows, among reflections and emanations of terraformed waters and indigenous deserts, were the faint, elusive sighs of a planet tormented by potential, simultaneously torn molecule by molecule, grain by grain, apart.
Despite reassurances to herself of "right", those of "moral" and "just", those same forces which tainted the majesty and beauty of the planet seemed also to clutch her heart in its icy, mechanized grip. It was not Omni-Tek that wielded that touch, she knew. Nor was it the ICC, the Sentinels, or the truth-seeing Henry Radiman. It was not the immortal Eva Pourais; for all her tact, centuries of deceit upon deceit could not permit her the grasp required to see the phenomenon laid across the land. And it was neither of the pawns, Ross nor Silverstone. It was all of them.
At her perch high atop the steeps of Versailles Tower, Emiliy Age had contemplated. She had summoned all the logic and powers of thought that dwelt within her, recounted every memory of battles in Newland Desert and the comraderie of those precious moments, and she had wept at their conclusion. Her conclusion. Infinitum.
From her secluded, isolated nest high atop the planet, a great cry had risen from the surface below, which had washed all emotion from her heart, from her soul, only to usher in an encompassing silence. A void, which had only occupied the faintest of corners to that moment, now circled around her as a black hole swallowed all matter - swallowed all meaning. In its place dwelt lonliness, despair, sadness, mourning...
...and abandon. At the end of a course two weeks' running, Emiliy descended into the abyss of space. No other world beconed her call, nor did any other world taunt her. There was simply nothing left of her to call or taunt.
Glancing back through the shuttle's porthole at Rubi-Ka, and with the entire planet within view, she saw it. A great disease had fallen over the planet she so readily called home, a disease of absence of meaning and purpose, more terrifying and disheartening than any plague ever known.
((OOC: Over the past two weeks I've retreated into the shadows, watching and waiting for Funcom to do something about the state of the story. The story brought me here, the people, though, made me stay. But much like Bonefish, Meister, and countless others before me, I can only hold on for so long before my fingernails lose hold.
What aided this slippage, at first, was one of Funcom's E3 interviews. "We have brought the story more in game than we ever had before[/i]." At first, this sounded a blessing, until I read the meaning behind the overall pattern of FC's communications on the story itself. NPCs. Lots of them. Static, redundant, uninteresting. That's the story from here on out, plainly and simply. That's the "in-game" story content. If that is what I expected from a game, I'd be playing offline.
But more menacingly is Funcom's recent Shadowlands PR stunt. Countless times has this community cried out for upgraded apartments, and countless times have they been told that it simply "isn't our focus". Apartments, after all, are perhaps the second most-desired upgrade to AO, following closely behind PvP balance. Funcom knows this.
Today's announcement that pre-orders of Shadowlands (which, if buoyant enough, will allow Funcom a comfortable degree of negotiating leverage with retailers and, more importantly, venture capital financing firms) will include this little "perk" quite frankly dispels any myth that Funcom serves the true wishes of its playerbase. Beneath this move is a very real tone of predation. It is clever, predatory marketing at its finest.
This community (both RPing and otherwise) has been an immeasurable dream come true. I have had only one, yes, one bad experience in-game, and by and large all of you are truly beacons in this scourge, and I truly hope Funcom one day gives you the treatment you deserve.
Underlying this community are three "pillars" of sorts, which, should they ever be yanked from beneath the world, all that would be left is catastrophe. To these three, I feel compelled to give particular thanks:
(i) The ARKs. Say what you will about them, they are the hardest working people on Rubi-Ka. Whether with subtle greetings in training grounds or by illuminating a virtual bar in a sea of green names, NO ONE can deny that, had it not been for their perserverance, this world would be but a flicker in a sad game director's eye.
(ii) R.U.R. and, specifically, Savoy/Dabblez and Ognom. Say what you will, it is people like them who are the true heart of the RPing community, and are also the true RPers. Adaptive, responsive and helpful, they are the foundation of roleplay in AO, continuously breathing new life into a stagnating world.
(iii) GSP. From drunken babble to DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM, they have always been the refreshing spirit of a dying world. To this day I am still utterly and pervasively confounded by the fact that they could so consistently pour every fiber of their being to make a community better.
I could literally go on forever thanking and naming people, but it would run far too long.
To everyone who is gone yet lurking, I now join among your ranks of the outcast. Let us all hope and pray that we are given reason and occasion to return.
To all those who remain, know that the outcast are still among you, even in some small way, smiling at your words, and forever admiring your dedication.