Tag Archives: NODAL

January 5, 2018 · 2:14 am

where they are…

Gaeta 5 is the only finished continent of the Gaeta series. The initial project was to build 5 continents (named from Gaeta 1 to Gaeta 5), then to unite them into a single block of sims. Today, only Gaeta 5 is complete and a part of Gaeta 1 was built. Gaeta 5 is the most compact continent, with no gulfs or estuaries. On map, [it] has a [peanut shape]. This continent is an endless plain. It is linked to Corsica by a two-sim large passage (see Transcontinental Channels).

http://wiki.secondlife.com/wiki/Gaeta_5

where they *aren’t* (any more):

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January 3, 2018 · 9:22 am

HHI Again

Philip Strevor became bored waiting for Marion Harding to show up with the new recruit to their gang, and started poking around the upper floor of Raven Manor, one of the largest buildings of Capitol City and located in the sim of Babablacksheep.

Hmm, he pondered. Wonder why this big office has a map of Terra Aurca on the wall instead of Gaeta V or Capitol City or sumtin?

He sits down in the centre of the room and thinks: One day I will be a big shot in this town and command from a posh desk like this. He pretends that people are seated opposite him, asking for favors.

“I see, Mrs. Brighton,” he says calmly for the set up. “But *no*, we cannot lend you 10,000 lindens so that your little boy can get out of jail. You can see him in 10 years!” He slams his hand down on the desk to punctuate the idea and then laughs heartily, head tilted backwards. He laughs so hard his sides start to ache. He must be careful.

Marion opens the room’s large oak doors with the fresh recruit in tow. “There you are. Playing like you’re important again?”

Laughter died down, Philip merely grunts.

“I haven’t seen you in about a week, Philip. You’re wearing short sleeves. But where’s your cybernetic arms? What’s happened?”

Philip doesn’t answer but instead stands up stiffly and goes over to the recruit and starts looking her over — he even sniffs her several times during the process. He turns toward Marion. “A *kid*? You said there was a twist, but… a *child*?”

“First off, introductions,” Marion replies, steady in the face of fury. “Philip Strevor, this is Heidi Hunt Ives. Heidi: Philip.”

Heidi Hunt Ives, who is of course Billy Jean Kidd again, extends a hand. “Please to meet you Philip.”

Philip doesn’t shake her hand. He instead roughly takes Marion’s arm and leads him to a far corner of the room. “A word, please,” he says as they walk.

Chance? Heidi thinks with amusement while watching them recede from her. Chants?

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November 20, 2017 · 7:20 am

missed opportunity

At sunset on November 20th, 2017, Snowmanster once again exits the CB Dylan dresser that acts as a portal between dimensions. He finally had tracked down an exciting adventure for Duncan and George involving the escalating Jeogeot Gulf War, where Duncan would play a French Lieutenant and George would be his daughter Sarah.

But no one was there to meet him in the VHC City penthouse apartment except George the doll, propped up on the far couch.

So Snowmanster sat and visited with him for a while before taking his leave, saying he had to head over to Farmington South to offer Peter Pipersville and his son Edward the role instead and to tell Duncan and George that he was sorry he missed them.

He stares out the eastward facing window at the town’s giant hotel before reentering the portal.


“Goodbye VHC City.”

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November 11, 2017 · 1:08 pm

ss

Perspective enlarged, Chuck Cheese finds herself in a strange place again, walking on a spiraling path upwards toward a rocky summit.

“Both of us can’t be women,” uttered Wheeler Wilson at the top. She changed.

“Right you are, Wilson Wheeler,” returned Chuck Cheese. She also changes.

“A pair of suave, swarthy dudes we make, eh?” said Wilson Wheeler.

Earie was thinking about himself: although just as swarthy, not so suave. “I am almost wholly invisible now,” he complains. “I am just an object to be seen right through. You don’t respect me as a person, Improvio. I mean, Pretty Man. I mean: Wilson Wheeler. Whatever.”

“Do you remember?”

“What happened? Yeah. A merger of church and liquor store.” He looks down into the valley to his right.

“We are the Malefic The Kidd spoke about,” continued Wilson. “With sickly, green wings; tucked in the opposite corner of her, um, building. Imprisoned even. Do you feel like you’re in jail? I do.” He indicates his outfit with a gesture. “This suit. The suit of Bowie.”

“Bowie protects you,” counters Earie. “Without Bowie you are nothing here as well. Object.”

“And who are you suppose to be?” he returns sarcastically. “Sid Vicious?”

Earie lays it out as plain as possible. “We are 2/3rds of the punk band Story Room. Banned from Olde Lapara Towne because of the noise, moved to the hidden vilage of Gaston where there was no ban, turned into pretty things there in order to survive, and then confined like flies to its Central Park. Paper.”

“Fly paper, right,” agrees Wilson Wheeler. “We burn to death again every day. Central Park is without dark and always on fire. Core of a volcano.”

“Seed into tree,” Earie continued even more abstractly. He uncrossed his legs. “Atonal punks we are, Wilson Wheeler.”

“Please,” Wilson Wheeler finally countered concerning his name. “If am that you are The Musician.”

He stops thinking about the spot marked with an “X” in the valley below and turns back toward his counterpart. “Then I am Earie…

… and you are Pretty Man.

But I also get to be Chuck.”

“Get yourself a shoulder pet and we’ll talk later,” compromises the suaver swarthy man sitting opposite him.

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October 28, 2017 · 7:56 am

aim backwards

There he is, Tiny Tina thinks. The miserable sod. Time to get him out of here before it’s too late.

Tina approaches. “Mr. Oden,” she pronounces clearly upwards. “Mr. Gregg Oden.”

Gregg looks down, spots her. “I’m Gregg Oden. I drink…”

“Yes, yes,” Tina interrupts, hands still on hips. “Is that all you have to wear out of here?”

“I have some watercolors. Would you like to see?”

“Can you *wear* watercolors out of here?” Tiny Tina chirps acidly, making Gregg pause. She blows out a minuscule puff of air. “This will have to do, then. Get up. No time to lose.”

“I’m Gregg Oden?” he says while rising off the jail bed.

“That remains to be determined. But we have to get you out of here. If they found out what you *really* were there would be tests after tests. And we don’t want that.”

She sprints across the floor and back to the open door of the cell. Gregg takes steps to follow. “You’ll have to move faster than that, Mr. Oden,” she shouts upwards and forwards while waiting. “Burt’s on a coffee break. He always takes a coffee break at 3:45am sharp. He always returns at 4:00am sharp. So *move*.”

“Too late,” Tina whispers as loud as she could, peering down from over the top of the stairs. “We’ll have to kill him.”

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August 22, 2017 · 8:28 pm

“Pageturner”

They all realized that Lamb was bigger than any of ’em.

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August 17, 2017 · 9:45 am

“Aim” Interpretation

“I have it pulled up over here on the Blue Feather tivi screen,” Hucka Doobie messaged to Baker Bloch.

“Come over here instead,” he messaged back. “Context. I’ll offer you a teleport.”

“Alright,” Hucka Doobie messaged in turn.

—–

“Peculiar room,” said Hucka Doobie, looking around. “Narrow.”

“It’s the GHHI Room. Don’t ask me what that means. Yet.”

“Something to do with the 4 empty sims at the Jeogeot infohub I’m assuming, where trees are ferns. I know the initials.”

“Yeah,” admitted Baker. “So here it is. Here.”

Hucka Doobie turns around and immediately jumps into an examination.

“Your aim is different from Peter SoSo’s. He’s focused on fulfilling the train line. Your own attention veers off to the right here, toward the forgotten waterfall. Aim Falls, we can call it. The Ickles, the two green beings in the collage — one at the bottom of the stairs with what appears to be Jiff (?) and the other to his right, directly below the falls — are aiding you. Yes, I’m getting it. Jiff is also an Ickle, but of a different species. Round head instead of cubic. Multiple expressions; five total. But color sticks… there must be 3 species: red, green, blue. Combined they form pitch perfect expression, a whiteness to douse the black away. Heaven over Earth. Man over woman even, perhaps.” He stops there.

“Well, there’s those little red people to the bottom right, Hucka,” Baker Bloch chipped in. “Right behind and around the wastebasket filled with Rocky’s discarded drafts for his second novel. Maybe they sprang out of the refuge.”

“Refugees,” uttered Hucka Doobie. “Whatever happened to ‘G’? Ginger, wasn’t it? Or was it Tina?”

“If you mean the tender of the bar across the road, she appears to be gone. 4th citizen not here any more.”

“Missing again,” ponders Hucka Doobie. He scans the collage one last time. “Well, it’s pretty obvious. You must aim toward the falls, find out about the 3 Ickle species, and go from there. Jiff must be real again in this novel and have the ability to manifest. The green cubic hulks Rocky also writes about and then discards are obviously Ickle representations as well. He knows them and they know him. So: location location location. 3 of ’em. 3-n-1. ‘Nother one.”

“My line. But: thanks!”

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August 11, 2017 · 8:29 am

HHI

Upon waking, Danny has a great urge to clean the back room.

Instead he heads to the bar where he knows his mate will be. Audrey Helen Ginger.

Police car! They must be on to him. He goes gingerly outside. Audrey’s the name. Yes, Audrey. Or is it Helen?

The inspector is still there in his window.

He inspects the inspector.

He seems to be preoccupied with his own thoughts. Good. Now to the bar.

Wait. A knife. Sandwiches.

And those mounds. Are people buried beneath? Perhaps his beloved Helen and Audrey?

There’s Ginger.

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August 5, 2017 · 8:21 am

2 I’s

“I’ve been living here a long time,” spoke Little Tonshi. “I have my great view, my own Table, even.”

“Are you going to change her back?” queried Buster Damm, talking about Wheeler on the couch between them.

“Not while she’s around me. David Bowie, David Bowie,” she said disgustedly. “*I’m* David Bowie. At least as much as her.”

“I must admit it’s a great view here,” he said. “What’s the movie tonight, hehe? Bowie, I assume.”

“Yes,” replied Little Tonshi. “The early years. The first 3 albums. Up to and including ‘Hunky Dory’.”

“Your masterpiece according to some.”

“‘Life on Mars’ was a surprise,” admitted the purple girl. “A shock, even. I realized I was extraterrestrial by then.”

Buster looked at one and then the other. “Someone will have to go,” he said. “There can’t be 2 David Bowies in this story.”

“Again I’ll leave it up to you. I can return Wheeler at any time. You can head to Ratcliff, then. Leave me back here up on my high mountain, the highest in Second Life.”

“Says some,” added Buster.

“Yes. Shush now. The show is starting.”

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July 31, 2017 · 4:13 am

Nancy and Bettie

“Weird how my name is Nancy, and I’m playing a girl named Nancy in the play.”

“Not at all odd,” responds the purple haired Bettie sitting in the opposite seat of their posh Lapara Hotel room — the 145 dollars a week one, not the 100. “Fate, we must call it. Like ‘The Shining’ (movie). Jack Nicholson played Jack from (Stephen King’s) book. Daniel played little Danny. Just like your own Danny. We must think of these things.”

“But why would Nancy shoot Gideon if he’s already caught and jailed? What’s my motivation for playing this obviously psychotic woman?”

“I understand it completely,” Bettie says. “Passion rules over all. Nancy’s love of her life had been robbed. So she robbed the robber of his life in turn.”

“But then her *own* life was robbed by the robber after he became… a vampire? Is that really believable?”

“The story has it that this is true,” replies Bettie. “Why don’t you study the script more and take notes.”

Nancy doesn’t even give a glance at the “Bible Truth” script leaning against the chair arm beside her. “Oh I’ve looked at that again and again. I’ve memorized everything by now. Might as well throw it out of this high window for all it’s worth.”

“Well,” joked Bettie. “As your *understudy*, haha, you could just abdicate the role. Let me take over. I could have poisoned your drink there, let’s say. You know how bad I wanted the part.” She smiled.

“Not a bad idea, Bettie,” Nancy said, absorbing the inside joke. “But I’m Nancy let’s face it. Nancy plays Nancy. And you, as Bettie, will play Bettie, who is the understudy to Nancy in the play as well.”

“In the play within the play.”

“The vampires,” complained Nancy further. “Why are they called vam*pures* in ‘Bible Truth’?”

But Bettie was distracted by the noise outside the window. “Oh Lordy, here we go.” She pointed down. “Evangelicals. Looks like you’re not the only one who doesn’t cater to the idea of mortals rising from the dead.”

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