Yes. Better at the other end of Justice Ave. opposite the Monkey Statue down at the soccer field. Pink clad dark haired halo topped Shelley J. Struthers front and center, soon to acquire another S name altogether. Okama to her left. Both stare at Bandana the banana, but he has no eyes to see Justice.
Even better. Okama fades from them as a license is thought of for the first time, leading directly to the church behind. Events are being set quickly into motion. tbc
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0051, 0603, Bandanaboro, Omega
She peered at me over two empty wine glasses. As if she had something to hide. She indicated “full perm” and loads of prims/li, which meant we could live here for a while if we wished. Nothing upstairs, she also said, indicating something else. Yeah, we could crash here for a while. But did I want this? Of course I want this (!). I want to live period, breath again, walk on Second Lyfe God’s green, beige or whatever earth terrain. But she said if we did this there would be a price to pay. Snakeworthy Price, I guessed, as in owner of The Shooter. And what was being shot? Bigfoot.
We moved to a nearby structure. “We could live here for a while,” she said while reading the clear as a bell text from her latest book. Suddenly I wasn’t so sure. TBC?
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0050, 0603, Critterville, Google Street View, New Island, Omega
“I’m telling you, Mike,” Pat relays telepathically. “If the next box is one specific color, one *specific* color… then we can’t kill her. We just can’t.
“We can’t kill her brother of mine (sigh).”
2 boxes later, past the demonstration of TILE that placated the onlooking, desirous ghouls, she finds the key, the center of it all.
Switching from colored to black and white, she can now unlock the door with the Newton-Jasper cube indicating scale.
Damn, thinks Mike. 2nd one today.
She lay down in the tall, wind blown grass, letting the resonance engulf her. The Hmm in its pure essence. Remarkable. She can’t get enough of it.
It makes her feel like a child again, riding her tricycle down the road beside her mother’s home.
Home.
She must get the word out. This is paradise!
A novel should do the trick, she determines. And so it came to be.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0603, New Island, Newer Island
He’s a god d-mn rock star.
SWITCH. Classical too!
“Toward me now!”
Yeah we’re going to put you on a little boat and take you all over the world you god d-mn rock slash classical star you, observing Wheeler thinks with this angle of him from the porch of Pogo’s General Store, the 1:1 matched parcel of the sim not named Okefenokee North somewhat to her disappointment but just Pogo, period. Bit of a copout, she believes, but things can still be fixed in this End of Time place which keeps modifying and expanding over time despite the name. Good for them! Not like a lot of places in Our Second Lyfe which are, at best, staying the same, or, worse, devolving or simply ceasing to be. She appreciates the persistence of existence, has learned to embrace it in this ever changing virtual world when she finds it.
“Let’s stop with the guitaring and come sit beside me, er, Douglas! I have some more thoughts on your face!”
—–
“Yes, that’s better. The shoes and overall outfit obviously still need some work but this is good for today.” She reaches over and pats his knee. “*Very* good,” and then leans more to give him a kiss on his cheek, tying him with Newt for number of smooches meted out by Wheeler recently. True, Newt’s was on the lips so that counts a bit more, I suppose. And he’s seen the colors too, the red blue yellow green on the back and the orange and purple up front. If lips are like one pink, then we could say he’s up to 7, with Douglas here still sitting at zero. We’ll see if that holds.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0046, 0603, End of Time+
Persimmon. A seed that grew into a tree. A tree whittled down to make a club. Woods (Tiger).
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wood_(golf)
Woods are so called because, traditionally, they had a club head that was made from hardwood, generally persimmon,[1] but modern clubs have heads made from metal, for example titanium, or composite materials, such as carbon fiber
Persimmon can also be whittled down to >sim< (Juho). Or in this case, visa versa.
In another, completely different game, a Woodman working for Tyger (Claws (gang)) with an actual last name of Forrest.
https://cyberpunk.fandom.com/wiki/Oswald_Forrest
Just some random, scattered association, but maybe soon to be more.
Woods: I’m part of the older generation that grew up playing with balata balls, and part of the last generation that played persimmon.
(to be continued?)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0045, 0603, C2077, Georgia, J-Town, Jeogeot, Juho, Nawt Vaya+
Is that a *shoe* represented below Martha’s Vineyard’s left foot as pointed out by Gerald’s lap-dancing robot Chomp formerly Chop?
Hmm. Anyway, having successfully found the light inside the dark in the interior of the Badlands Grocery Store in Interior, Fern Stalin and Billy Clockwork decide to visit 4 Buttes while they’re up in the real world, since it’s just a hop and a skip away from them over the South Dakota line in Montana. Or so they thought. But what they viewed when they got there 7 hours and 47 minutes later surprised them (again!) and made the much longer than expected trip kind of all worthwhile. The buttes didn’t appear pointy at all now like in the photos from section 02, seemingly worn down by the erosions of time. “Something’s flat, something’s off,” Fern free associated beside the rental truck while staring, thinking of soda and fizz and the lack thereof.
After taking the last draw off her old soda in hand, Fern decides that they missed something in South Dakota which caused this alternate 4 Buttes to, er, arise. “Wall,” she said intuitively to her clockwork traveling companion. “Something about Wall.” Billy knew Fern was talking about the original Real Life town they teleported into from Our Second Life (thanks Mistress!) before making their way across the the heart of the Badlands to Interior. “Maybe something to do with the famous tourist trap drug store there also named Wall,” she continued in this vein, thinking back to their visit to it through her photographic memory. “Maybe…”
“Got it! A postcard I saw there. 420, Billy — seating capacity for the drug store’s cafe on the postcard but so much more. That’s what we’re looking for. Something at or about 420.” And another welcome sign, she also soon gleaned.
Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0044, 0603, Heterocera, Massachusetts, Montana, Rubi, South Dakota
“*There* you are, Greg Ogden you sneaky devil,” he said while watching him paint bathing beauty Redd again in a totally different location than before, different from anything we’ve seen so far in this here photo-novel, 43 in a series. “We’ll catch up as soon as I finish my tour, you abstracter you. I’ll remember where you are.”
Likewise period clothes wearing Greg said nothing, as if he wasn’t even aware of him passing by. The man hadn’t created an identity yet in this new land. Maybe that’s the problem. So on to the next terrace…
… where he encounters a band of progressive folk rock musicians. “The Whistler approaches!” said their leader as he comes into the scene. “A song for the Whistler!” And they leap right into the Jethro Tull song of that same name.
He circled around behind them, listening, then remembering. “It’s *Witcher*, not Whistler,” he exploded, bringing the tune to a screeching halt. “I am the Witcher. Fools.” With this declaration, he also recalled his mission. To save the town from a monster.
Now to refind Greg Ogden, because he knows something about this too.
“Halt Greg Ogden! Stand back from that *demon*!” he says to the painter when approaching again. Greg heard him this time, as the Witcher knew he would now that he understood who he was. Paintbrush dropped like the tune before it, he stood back. Redd’s face had changed.
Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0043, 0603, Witcher
The fox is dead, Arthur realized while looking to the left on the same walk. Something had happened. Think Arthur, think!
He was in the tunnel again, light at the end once more. But different. White, not yellow. Different planet, he realized. Newt, he recalled. Something about Newt.
He turns left instead of right, thereby avoiding the dead fox.
Choices, he pondered. It’s all about the choices we make.
—–
Into the clotheslines!
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0042, 0603, RDR2
