I’ve made a map of the age of avatars owning property around Rocky Comfort (RC in the middle, in turn the perceived center of Sandfly Big Sandy) in terms of years and then months. Seems like a lot of old folks here, with age 15 predominating, throw in a couple of 16s even. Maybe they did come here as some sort of group, like Mrs. Ordinary reinforced to Marsha in that last post of this blog and attached photo-novel. Speaking of which…
“Oh it’s right out there in the ocean, just beyond the lighthouse. Can’t you see?” Then Mrs. Ordinary remembered she was wearing her new, custom-made eyes which gave her extraordinary sight indeed. Kill her: she indulged herself. She works hard up there in the real world, she wants to play hard down here during her off time, relatively effortless 20/5 vision, supersonic hearing, the works. She doesn’t want to miss *anything*.
“I can’t see it,” says suddenly shivering Marsha, not daring to extend her normal 128 meter draw due to local lag. She crashes too much as it is. “Cold out here: let’s go back. We can go to the boat another day when I can get a proper rest. Just arrived you know.” River’s still strong in her mind. And what happened there.
“Oh it’s beautiful,” Mrs. Ordinary went on about the thing. “3 sims and the truth. Galaxy is a good name for the craft it’s so big. Milky Way would have been another.”
“Universe?” jokes tired Marsha, who then gets up from the barrel she’s sitting on and starts heading inland again. Back to Rocky Comfort and thereabouts. Back to the sand she feels more at home in. Big Sandy.
“Everything’s banned around here anyway,” she throws back to trailing Bethany, er, Ginger.
Sunklands 