Tag Archives: Baker Bloch^*++@

February 3, 2024 · 4:36 pm

straightening out the past

They’d found it at the bottom of the sea just north of the boat house where she was staying. An Anton avatar was there in the Anson sim — so close of a name it couldn’t be an accident. Spiderwebs covered this orange version of a VW Beetle but she knew it was the same. Had to be. Someone was playing Grand Theft Auto in Our Second Lyfe and it all led up to this place. Shoes inside, she recalled. Of a ruby variety. Stolen as well.

Roger Pine Ridge kept looking at the flickering white glow beneath the water that he knew was Anton. Shoes stolen; mission accomplished. Like finding the ruby slippers of Oz, he thought. Anorexia’s gonna be pissed off as hell.

He looked over at the green robed woman beside him, face harshly illuminated by the glare of the flashlight she held. Scars. “I’m just waiting for the significant other to finish up inside,” he explained from his *self named* chair.. “How about you?”

—–

Cyberpaperdoll walks out of Fae’s Boat House with 50,000 lindens in hand.

“Come on, Biker,” she said just above a whisper toward the closest Pine Ridge chair. “Time to go.”

“Don’t forgot to sign the guestbook out there!” Jim the Pirate Bartender called from within, a request they most definitely ignored while leaving.

I should have kept the name Kelp, she pondered while still staring at the pirate ship in the bay from the balcony of the big white empty house. The owner, Shippe, *must* be the same as Jim the Bastard Pirate from back in those days. Too coincidental (once more). And as Anton is likewise close to Anson, so her own chosen nickname at the time, Kelp, is to Kulp, as in Nancy Kulp as in plain Miss Jane from the “Beverly Hillbillies” TV series, replaced by similarly plain Miss Janet in Grand Theft Auto, Ski Inn bar parallel. The one who woke up Philip Strevor to who he really is.

Apparently the opposite happened to his partner-in-crime Marion Harding back in the past which may be the same as the present. From the same deck she sat on and read her book of spooky stories in the dark one year later, he dove into the sea that represents the unconscious, intent on finding the vanished auto that was his little Bug. Where did it go? Back to the beginning of this here photo-novel? Think, June Bug, think!

Then she realized: Chef-Inspector Petty would know about Anson. He was there with Baker Bloch when the original auto was found. He’d probably have records of it in his files.

Now to figure out where he ran his private dick nighttime business in Aisle of Palms. In Perch Restaurant as well? Another 2n1? So many questions, but we’re still indeed nearing the very end of the thing.

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January 30, 2024 · 4:05 pm

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Baker Bloch and bee-person/blog guru Hucka Doobie share a pizza while Philip continued to play his game over there, watching from afar as the virtual trailer park slowly repopulates itself with killable, expendable NPCs.

“You sure bringing Strevor back is a good idea, Baker? He’s kind of a psycho after all, especially if he’s off his pills. Does he have his pills on him, Baker? I hope you made sure of that. Else… we could be in a lot of trouble shortly… after he’s finished with his game and becomes bored again. Boredom leads to violence in this case. Believe me, I’ve seen it up close and personal when I was going out with Marion that brief bit in Gaston.”

“Sure it is,” Baker defended the idea. “He’ll, in fact, lead us right to your true love Marion Star Harding. They’re natural partners in crime — different types of partners.”

“I wondered about that for a while,” she said, scooping the artichokes off her slice. Baker knows I don’t like artichokes! she fumes internally. Yet, in his selfish manner, he ordered them anyway, not thinking about his dinner companion. So similar to Marion in that way, she thinks. But she loves him anyhow — both of ’em, she reckons. In different ways of course. Now.

—–

Okay, I’m beside the sign Philip said he would meet me at, Marion Star Harding thinks; now I just wait. He sniffs again, his face screws up like a walnut again. Philip better hurry, though, or I’m going to catch some kind of respiratory disease just standing here so close to that cursed sea, he thinks, not being able to get the rotted egg and salt stench out of his nostrils despite breathing through his mouth once more. What horrible germs and viruses are going down in his lungs?

Meanwhile on the opposite side of town, still portal hopping Marsha “Pink” Krakow seemingly arrives on the scene in her orange VW Beetle. After a long 2 1/2 month journey we’ve finally come full circle, you and I my loyal reader. We’re ready to end it here. But first we need to get Philip and Marion beside the same sign in the same town. A phone call from the latter should do the trick.

—–

“I’m here,” Philip said to his natural partner but not his lover. “Sorry about the mistake.”

“It’s that game again,” guesses Marion correctly. Distraction, he knew.

“Yup. Sorry again. Wrong reality.”

Having circled around the village in search of the correct Aisle of Palms indicator, the orange VW pulls up in perfect synchronicity. “Get in,” she said, and, without words, they did. They’d been expecting her. Their beloved Billie Jean Kidd in yet another guise, the third and final gang member and a shapeshifter of some power. She can take the appearance of a kid, an old woman, a young lady, a dog (poodle), and last but not least, a Bug. In short, Marsha “Pink” Krakow was never in the car to begin with here.

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January 29, 2024 · 10:43 pm

Gunn City

Of course I had to steal Bombay Beach’s Aisle of Palms street sign and make it my own welcoming sign to the city. I’m talking about Aisle of Palms again of course, My Second Lyfe style. And then it was logical to position Trevor Philips’ look-alike Philip Strevor in the Perch Restaurant table above it. Let’s check in on what he’s up to.

Well, currently he’s starting to play that game he loves called Gunn Mobile Trailer Park, with a style so similar to what his doppelganger up in Bombay Beach’s own double of Sandy Shores experiences each and every virtual day. I wonder if he understands the bond?

Soon he comes to a critical point, building upon hours and hours of non-stop action and violence. 223 trailer park residents and visitors killed in a murder spree no one will soon forget in the overarching Mobile, Alabama metro area and indeed the whole state, at least according to future newspapers he has access to at this level like “The Bermingham Journal” and “The Phoenix City Citizen-Gazette.”

He’s killed everyone off, with no further need of his avatar’s trusted .45 caliber combat pistol. Can he deposit it into that glitch he’s learned about through a Youtube tutorial and progress beyond the park, venturing into the Mobile-Tensaw River Delta region and its vast swamplands? He knows he’ll encounter Indians there: the famed Bottle Creek tribe most noted for their large platform mounds NE of Mobile and with many rewards to reap along the way according to that video. But he cannot find them if he still possesses the gun. The makers of the game wanted the player to learn a moral lesson beyond just learning how to aim and kill in the most effective manner.

Just as an experiment, he places the gun in the glitch but knows, all along, he can’t go through with it. Instead, weapon safely back in hand, he’ll have his avatar lie low for a couple of days while the trailer park repopulates itself with outside NPCs. Soon he’ll have enough to start the murder spree all over again. And, in his head, it will continue like this, week after week, month after month. He reckons it will never get old — at least until they release version 06 of the game with its updated graphics and even more intense killing scenes. He can’t wait. Projected date of release: Fall 2025. But will his beloved character Cloe Prince return? he wonders. And if not, will he form such an intense bond with a new lead “protagonist”? Will Cloe become — gasp — obsolete in the eyes of others? Will he stick with her even so? He knows he can’t, though, because the character doesn’t make the man. Instead: the instrument of death he or she wields. And it could be a he the next time around. He’ll get use to it. You see the irony here?

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January 25, 2024 · 3:47 pm

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“Excuse me, sir. If I could interrupt you for a moment.”

—–

“And so as you can see, basically when we cross the Dewberry stream we’re already upon New Site and Chapter 03.” Baker Bloch looked around at the assembled members of The Table, a larger number than usual just because this was such an important new development: the potential end of Our Second Lyfe. “Questions so far?”

“Are we still in Randolph County?” queries Wheeler directly across the table from Baker, still dressed as Atlantis High Priestess and fresh from another shooting scene.

“Tallapoosa, actually,” replied Baker. “Same with The Barroom, same with Mary, Camp Hill, Slaughters.” I through the brain of Baker Bloch make a note to look up all US Slaughters after all this is done.

“Hmm,” said Wheeler. A pause here.

“Grassy?” Baker spoke to the green Mmmmmm being sitting to Wheeler’s left. “Any thoughts?”

But Grassy was biding his time until spring and the return of outdoor plants, ready to make a move in the Mystery Spot of nearby Boulder highlighted in a section 02 post of this here photo-novel (41). “Not at this point,” he said, knowing he represented all Toy Avatars, all of his kind, in this opinion.

“Very well.” He turned to *his* left. “Newt: any comments or opinions or whatever?”

Newt, with old Axis-style pitch black German coat worn over modern agogo red-yellow-black German t-shirt, was also biding his time. Until Baker Bloch handed over the reigns of Aisle of Palms to him; make him mayor or whatever the title turned out to be. Maybe even King? With Wheeler his Queen, if so. After all, Baker Bloch is just kind of a Prime Minister figure in all this, having most of the power to create, etc., but not being the legal ruler of the land. That remained in Wheeler’s hands. So far.

Baker looked 2 seats down. “Hucka?”

“I wish to come back into the story,” she spoke plainly, directly, looking at him then looking at everyone else at The Table, wanting them to understand she was dead serious about this.

Another pause. “Well, okay. We can make that happen. Right gang?”

Murmurs of agreement all around, even the usually silent 88’s sitting to Wheeler’s right. Everyone knew the spiritual importance of Hucka to the blog, a type of Holy Ghost to the thing.

—–

Afterwards, Baker thought back to meeting the Bishop in an unexpected place off Old Wagon Road in central Maebaleia (continent), Our Second Lyfe must remain relevant being the overarching message he relayed. And then he took him diagonally to Redlands for a demonstration.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0041, 0609, Alabama, Big Woods, Boulder, Haze County, Jeogeot

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September 25, 2023 · 9:58 am

00400206

“Yes I recall. The direct resonance with the Utah town in the Marion-Francis circle. The one that put SS on the map. But the overlap was rejected by the good people of that state, steeped in religion not mysticism and alchemy. They knew and understood the gold seekers that were greedy prospectors, ready with a trick and a tail. So they bent away from Meat City, to the detriment of both. The upper ones tried to mirror the energy back into the town but no good, or incomplete at best. Now you can revisit this. Where is the coordination of Broadwater in Kamas?”

After checking: “It’s off the grid (!).”

“Exactly. It has its own energy independent from the grid that absorbed the rest. Streets don’t go all the way around the sim. Keep that in mind when exploring further. More aligned overall with the continent rather than the city, a larger power.”

—–

“No sushi today! Bad!” the proprietor of the stall barked on the same block as the new strip mall.

Geez I was just passing by, she thought, oblivious to the omen.

Suddenly time stood still.

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September 15, 2023 · 9:32 am

Rocky Comfort

The mouse already had a rat and he was she. Giant monster Albert couldn’t get inside this time. The girl was safe. For now.

Made it! Butt… where am I??

She eventually makes her way through all the other rooms to the bathroom. And the scales, but something was different from before, although they still registered zero just like she was a kidd again, a baby, an infant, a… fetus. We couldn’t see the tub ducks so no yellow in the picture now. Definitely changed, although the observer still observed from atop the falls.

She wakes up in bed, cow patterns to the front, cow patterns to the side. No noise.

Where is everyone? she asks herself after sitting up and scratching her head in confusion. Flown away?

Turns out it was so.

Butterfingers appear in a cave.

Pink sees yellow again (and wants).

We’re back on the correct timeline.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0040, 0107, Bellisaria, Nautilus, NORTH, River, Sandfly, Upper Austra, Western Hills

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September 5, 2023 · 8:12 am

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They walked away from the peak overlooking Coyote Pass, not holding hands yet but feeling closer than ever because of what they’d just witnessed, the girl for the girl and, likewise, the boy’s death for the observing boy. Deep down, they realized it could have been them. Oh, not by hypnotizing orange trees like with humans Al and Sarah, but something else Mid-Hazel could have concocted especially with mechanoids in mind. And they also came to realized they were suppose to replace these 2, just from the act of being witnesses to the awful spectacle. Tom knew what could come to pass — at the Pass — when he lured them here. “Take a well deserved vacation,” he said to the 2, fresh off their saving of River by turning everything dark and muddled there into light and clear and *clean*. No more chocolate mess. They had worked together there and they would work together in the future to handle a bigger crisis. The pollution of the whole original Bellisseria continent by evil forces of sickening sugary designs much vaster.

“How about the Western Hills of Bellisseria?” he said to them in his office that morning, even providing the pair some scenic landmarks that he said Al had scouted out in his visit there (see first of this here photo-novel). Top of the list: Coyote Canyon Overlook. He *knew*. And so they saw. He didn’t tell them because all lie in a probable reality still, and, anyway, there was nothing they could do about it directly. “Just observe,” they can hear him say as an afterthought in their heads now, after the tragedy was over. Later on, through the pumpkins, they understood something else was involved: alien creatures of a high design indeed.

First up: Butterfingers.

END OF “SUNKLANDS 2023 MORE MIDDLE”!

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September 2, 2023 · 3:07 pm

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And so we end with a waterfall which turns into a new river, replacing the old. Clean to filthy. Clear to chocolate. The overarching sim of River has been redeemed and revitalized from the top (4000m) down. In other words, the Void has spoken.

“Hey,” says Tronesisia to her quickly drying robot companions, prying her vision away from surfboarding Bart on the falls — couldn’t pass up the opportunity. “Check out the little clockwork people coming out of the building over there. Wonder if they have anything to do with this?

“Let’s go over and make friends.”

“Oh boy,” says my hot ass computer, ha, supporting 4 avatars in 4 separate windows at once.

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September 2, 2023 · 9:04 am

additional River scenes

“Are you going to light a candle for him, Archie?”

“Nah I’m just checking out his junk.”

“Awesome. Soo. Do you not like Freddie Mercury or something?”

“Of course, dude. The guy that wrote ‘Stairway to Heaven’!”

“Ummm.”

—–

“I’ve let you down, Robert. I’ve become a big fat blueberry again.”

Robert looked over, didn’t see a blueberry girl. He saw himself. In another for a change. “I… forgive?”

“No this can’t be forgiven what I’ve done,” she insisted. “I want you to just go ahead and puncture me. Stab me with your stabby thing. Just get it over with. I need to be dejuiced.”

Again, Robert didn’t see anything to “dejuice”. Just a woman, lonely, bad self image, needing a change, trapped in a job with, overall, negative energy pervading. Kind of like…

“I’ll remember your smile,” he said, again surprising himself with his empathy. “You were, an ordinary person to me at the time. No crazy. I was tired of crazy, see. The looks in the eyes.”

“I read from your collection,” she said, wiping her eyes of tears, wiping her nose a bit, shoving back the black hair from the blue-purple face. She was tired of her hair. She was going to get it cut, maybe dyed again. She wanted to be someone different. “I read about… me.”

—–

“I know who you are. Just go ahead and do it. Change. Admit the similarity.”

“Cold in here,” she tries to deflect, then gives up. “Oh, o-*kay*.”

—–

“Where did *this* come from??”

“Relax Bulby,” assured calm Tronesisia to the left. “We’re waterproof.”

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August 22, 2023 · 1:52 pm

Joker

“Amos T. Sandman,” I spoke from the side. “I kind of figured you’d end up in a circus.”

“Welp,” the colorful dancing clown replied, “I had no religion to preach any longer what with the demise of the Cheesers. What else was left for me? I have subjects; that’s the important thing. Right Fluffie, Spoilsport, Clyde?” he spoke to the various clowns around him presently. He danced in a circle (acknowledging each one?) toward the central top hat on a trunk, the cane, the cards.

“Turn it over, Baker,” he seemed to request about the mystery one before him.  “See what *your* next subject is. I bet it’s not an ace. That’s already been done; that would be heading backwards.” He danced back forwards. “Or sideways or something, black and red, clubs and spades, doesn’t matter.” He picks up the cane besides the cards to augment the dance in spots. Then the top hat itself upon a next whirl. Then, a final twirl and swoop, the mystery card itself, which became all cards when turned over, instantly halting the charade. He had shown his true face.

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