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Chapter One
Previously

Liftoff
          I woke up to the smell of bacon and coffee and the sound of a woman saying "Good morning, Johnny."
          It took me a second or two to figure out who was talking. I was a little hungover. "Mmmh," I said. "Mornin', Destiny." I got lucky, I usually suck at remembering names but hers was so different it was easy.
          "Come have some eggs before they get cold, John."
          "You made breakfast? Damn, I think I'm in love!"
          She laughed. "Slow down, cowboy."
          I laughed. "Don't worry, I'm a snail. I thought you liked me too?
          She grinned sheepishly. "I do. That's the problem. I didn't want to like you, I wanted to use you. But I can't, I like you.
          "I might even be falling in love, damn it. Shit, I shouldn't have said that."
          I was glad she did. I thought I was falling in love, too. Never happened before, I don't know why I married my ex. But I might be...
          My brain exploded again.
          It was a little awkward but I had a way out. I sighed. "Time to secure passengers and cargo for liftoff. I guess you're first, lover."
          Her eye twinkled. "Lover?"
          "No?"
          She smiled. "Yeah."
            I strapped her in and started on the other two hundred women.

  "Ten... Nine... Eight... Seven... Six... Five... Four... Three... Two..."
          I braced myself for the Gs. "One. Ignition. Liftoff."
          God but I hate liftoff. Hey, you wanted this report to be complete, didn't you? Then shut up and let me talk. Jesus, guys.
          Anyway, after we were in orbit I unleashed Destiny, and she helped me unleash the rest. In fact, most helped unleash the rest. I was impressed, maybe the whores weren't as depraved as I thought?
          It turned out that that was completely wrong. They were more depraved than I could imagine.

This is a crude, rough draft of an upcoming book that is less than 10% finished. This short chapter will be enlarged for the book. Continues...

Previously...

Destiny
                The maid woke me up about noon. I hate that damned thing, always noisy as hell. Why does it have to clean at noon?
                "Coffee," I growled. A couple of minutes later a table with a cup of coffee on it rolled to me. Why are those damned things so slow? Anyway, I don't know why I'm putting this in my report except I don't want to get in trouble for leaving anything out.
                I took a shit and drank another cup of coffee.
                I switched on the video and turned to the news. Tornadoes, floods, fires, shootings, robberies, political corruption, some bullshit about the Martian terraforming project that's been going on for a hundred years... Why do they call it "news"? It's never new, it's the same shit all the time. Bored, I switched through the channels. Shit, all boring. I'll get a beer. So I locked up the boat and hailed a taxi with my fone and went to the nearest bar, which was five miles away. Why ain't there no bars near spaceports, I wondered. It was like that everywhere.
                I sat down and ordered a beer. "I'm sorry, sir," the bartender said, "but this says you're underage."
                "What? Christ, lady, I'm forty five!"
                "Well, this says 'underage', no ID carried."
                "Shit," I said, and got out my fone and turned on GPSID. "Try it again."
                "OK," she said, "It worked that time." I checked my balance - wow, beer wasn't cheap here.
                "Hi, Captain."
                "Huh," I said, startled. "Oh," I said, seeing who it was. "The woman that wanted on my boat. Gonna buy me a drink, lady?"
                "The name's Tamatha. You can call me Tammy. If I buy you a drink are you going to let me on?"
                "Nope."
                "Buy your own booze, loser."
                "Fuck you," I retorted. "I ain't cheap like you droppers."
                "I told you, I want to get away from that shit. That's why I haven't gone home, even though I really, really want to. Come on, please, I'll fuck you all the way to Mars!"
                I laughed. "Yeah, you and two hundred other hookers."
                "You're an asshole," she said.
                "So what, cunt," I replied. "Get outta my face."
                "What did you call me?" she demanded.
                "Are you good for anything but putting a dick in?" I asked.
                "OOOOH!!" She shouted, and stomped off. I got another expensive beer. Damn, I should have had the taxi take me to a cheaper part of town, even if the fare would have been more. I guess I could have took the bus, but hell, I got money, I don't need no bus.
                A blonde sat down next to me. "Hi," she said. "I overheard, why did she call you captain? Are you on the Mars boat?"
                "Yeah," I said. "Why?"
                "I'm going to Mars."
                "Yeah? That's what she said. She's not on the manifest."
                "I am."
                "Yeah?" I said, pulling out my fone and checking out the manifest. Of course, as soon as I activated it her face and information was shown. "Why, pleased to meet you, uh..." I glanced at the manifest, "Destiny. Is that your real name?"
                She giggled. "Yeah, it is. Buy you a drink, Captain?"
                "Call me John," I said, shaking her extended hand. "So why do you want to go to Mars?"
                "I want to see what it's like to be a hooker."
                I choked on my beer; women kind of fuck my brain up sometimes. "Huh?"
                "I want to experience everything!"
                She grabbed my crotch. "No charge for you," she said before locking lips with me.
                Wow. I was really looking forward to this trip!
                My boat's really a houseboat. I'd lied to that Tammy woman, it's my boat. I usually only live in it when I'm on-planet; it won't go farther than the moon in any reasonable amount of time, and I live on the company's Captain's Quarters when I'm working. Lots nicer than my houseboat. The company pays me to ferry passengers to their boat, in orbit. A second stage to hold a couple hundred passengers is pretty cheap, it's just a tube with gravity harnesses installed.
                I'd had a wonderful time! I really liked Destiny. Smart, funny, and damned good looking.
        We shared a taxi to my boat, and there were twenty women waiting when we got there. I had to check them all in. "Sorry, Destiny," I said. "You can drop by my quarters when I'm done here."
                "No," she said, and winked. "You can come to mine."
        "Uh, your cabin's in orbit. This isn't the ship, this is just a rocket underneath a harness tube underneath my houseboat. The ship itself's in orbit waiting for us. Just take the elevator to my boat, when we take off you can use a harness there, you don't have to ride in the tube."
                The fucking women just wouldn't stop coming, and most of them acted horny, a sure sign they were high on drops. Most of them hit on me, none too subtly.
                This was going to be a good trip! At least, if I could get all those whores inside the boat. No sooner than I'd start walking to my quarters the damned bell rang. It kept up all weekend. Finally, maybe midnight Sunday, I got what I thought was going to be eight hours sleep. I'd had maybe four all weekend.
                I got two more before the doorbell rang. It was that damned Tammy. "You ain't getting' in. Now go away before I call the cops" I said.
                "Check your manifest."
                I checked it. "You aren't on it."
                "Look at the passengers list."
                Passengers? Huh? Ok, I checked. Damn, she was there. I unlocked the airlock. "17 C", I said, and went to my cabin.
                I got some sleep, finally... an hour later. I really like Destiny!

This crude, rough draft has been edited from /.'s crude, rough draft and is slightly bigger. This story is now Soylent's fiction. Hey, that's better than sy-fy, isn't it? Continues...

I'm Retireded!
Today was my last day of work. I haven't felt like this since I got out of the Air Force! In the words of Martain Luther King and doubtless countless freed slaves after the civil war, "Free at last! Free at last! Thank God almighty, I'm free at last!"

It took four years to write Nobots. I might publish two more this year. Freedom!

Previously

Tamatha
                What got me interested was the fact that they were whores! I was going to have a boatload of horny whores!
                See, I'm not good with women. What I mean by that is women use me and I'm too damned stupid to see it. And I was too damned stupid to realize that whores are women.
                What happened earlier, you know, led to my stupidity. Well, except the stupidity of not realizing whores are women, that was incredibly stupid.
                Did I tell you about women? They've made my life hell. Look at the week before they handed that Mars assignment, for instance. No, never mind, you don't want to hear it.
                Most of what I learned about women I learned from the powers of Evil. What I mean is, women taught me about women.
                For instance:

• The one thing that will attract a woman, more than any other thing, is another woman on your arm
• A woman doesn't want you unless she can take you away from another woman
• A woman isn't impressed by a big dick, but if you have one she'll brag about it to her friends and if you don't she'll make fun of it
• A woman is incapable of putting anything back where she found it.
• Women will bitch about the very aspects of their men that attracted them in the first place
• Most women prefer the sexual vibrators manufactured by the Harley-Davidson corporation
• A woman will throw the things you want to keep away, and keep the things you want to throw away. She'll throw out the "useless junk" your late great grandfather left you but leave the ball of lint and empty soap box on the dryer.
• A woman will rearrange your shit so she can bitch about your asking where it is. "Well LOOK for it!"
• A woman can never get enough sex, but she can get too much sex
• There is no good answer to the question "is my ass too big?"
• You're most attractive to any woman right after you've had sex with a different one

                Being stupid, I was happy. I guess that's the secret to happiness - Be stupid. But stupid pays later.
                I went home, took a shower, and checked out Ol' Miss before I went out single party partying.
                "Ol' Miss" is my own boat. It's docked to the company boat when I'm driving the company boat. She was home.
                I went out drinking.

                I woke up sitting on the couch with the doorbell screaming at me, a full whole warm beer on the table. What damned time is it? Five? In the morning? What the hell. I picked up my tablet. "Who is it and what in the hell do you want at this ungodly hour?" I growled.
                "Tamatha Winters, who are you?" the woman pictured on the tablet said.
                "I'm the captain of this damned boat. What in the hell do you want?"
                "I'm part of your cargo."
                "Christ, woman," I said, still irritated but noting that she wasn't bad looking. "We don't leave until Monday and it's only Saturday. At five o'clock in the God damned morning! Damn it, woman, I wanted to sleep late!"
                "I'm sorry, but I don't have anywhere else to go," she said.
                So I'm perplexed again. Or still. Or something. No place to go? A decent looking hooker? "So why not?"
                "Drops."
                "Shit, an addict?"
                "Yeah," the picture of the woman on the tablet said. "I heard there ain't no drops on Mars and I'm sick of the life. You think I like sucking dicks for... well, it ain't a living. More like a dying. I can't seem to stop on Earth, and they want women on Mars so I'm going."
                "They don't want women, they want whores. You'll still be a whore."
                "Maybe," she said. "We'll see. Are you going to let me in?"
                "I have to check the roster to see if you're authorized."
                "Why? Isn't it your ship?"
                "Look, lady," I said, "it's the company's ship. I just live here and drive it where they tell me to. I can't let you on unless I have you on the manifest. Let me look." I looked, there wasn't any Tamatha Winters or record of her face. "Sorry, lady, you ain't on the list."
                "What?!" She said. "Of course I am! Here's my papers," she said, holding out a fone.
                "Sorry, lady," I said. "You'll have to straighten it out with the company. Bye."
                "Wait!" the tablet exclaimed. "I can't go home! There's drops there and I won't make the liftoff!"
                "Sorry, lady, I ain't gonna screw up a good job. I can actually buy shit instead of having crappy printed out shit and I ain't gonna mess it up. GoodBYE!" I said, disconnected, and went to bed. At least the cunt had me in more comfortable sleep, my couch sucks to sleep on.

This crude, rough draft continues...

Prologue
        I don't know why they're making me write this damned report, I never had to write a report before. Ain't like I been to college or nothing. I didn't have to write a report after Vesta, why now? Maybe because this trip was so damned out of the ordinary? I don't know, I'm just talking into this thing and I don't know where to start, so I'll just start.

The Meeting
              I was scared shitless; the CEO had called me into his office. Jesus, the fucking CEO! Why would a CEO want a lowly boat captain to talk to him? Yeah, centuries ago ship captains were really important guys, but that was back when they needed crews. I was a glorified bus driver and babysitter.
                I liked hauling passengers because at least I'd have somebody to talk to. It takes a long time to get from planet to planet, and it's usually a boring trip. They pay pretty damned good, too -- cargo boats don't need babysitters.
                Jesus! The CEO! I was shaking as I walked into his office. If I was going to get fired for that little incident on Vesta my chief would have sacked me.
                "Have a seat, Mister Knolls. Coffee?"
                "Uh," I said, "Uh, thank you, sir." I fidgeted in my chair. His assistant gave me a cup.
                "Knolls, your supervisor told me all about Vesta."
                I almost pissed my pants. Shit, they were going to sue me.
                "That was some damned good work, Knolls."
                My head kind of exploded. "Sir? Two men died!"
                "Yes, Mister Knolls, but you saved ten million dollars in equipment and the wrongful death suits were only a million each. God damned good work!"
                "Uh, thank you, sir," I said, wondering how damned evil this man could be.
                "I have a new assignment for you," he said. "Your supervisor told me you didn't like cargo runs, but this time you'll have someone to talk to."
                My head kind of stopped working right then.
                "This assignment is important. You're the man for this job and we're giving you a fifty percent raise."
                "Uh, sir, uh, what's my cargo and where am I taking it?"
                The CEO smiled. "Women. You're to transport two hundred woman to Mars."
                "Women?" I asked, my brain still not working properly.
                "Whores, Knolls."
                Taking a couple hundred whores to Mars? Wow.
                "So, Knolls, are you taking the assignment?"
                What could I say? Of course, not ever having met any whores I had no idea how much of a pain in the ass it would be or that I would regret my decision. "Yes, sir, how could I not? Of course! When do I leave?"
                I wish my brain would have been working. God, what a mistake.

This is a crude, rough draft. Continues...

The book I'm working on now is the same name as the title of this journal. It was started at slashot, but will be finished here. I'll post it there, but the soyled get it first.

Except that it's already started and from what I can tell, none of the folks here at soylent know me. So for the next few days I'll be posting Martian whores here.

You had no idea what you were getting into, did you?

Neither did I.

What you will read is a crude, first draft. Stuff will be added to existing chapters, stuff will go away, and the order of some will most likely be changed. For an example, look at this finished, edited version of Nobots chapter 7 (which stands on its own as a story) compared to the draft.

I'll start posting chapters tomorrow. Wish Soylent had a "sci-fi" category...

This journal probably fits the other site better, since I don't think any of my old fans have come here yet, but I did say I'd post journals here first.

Ten years ago K5 was thriving, and my diaries got popular there. Folks wanted me to make a book out of them, and I promised I would.

I never got around to it, despite people periodically nagging me to. I finally did put together a PDF. I'd excised much of it, thinking it was too long, and emailed copies to those who asked.

Last Fall when I released the hardcover of Nobots I was again chided to get The Paxil Diaries on cellulose.

I'd discovered that no, it wasn't too long at all, and the abridged version was too short. So I redid the whole thing. I've been working on it almost exclusively for months and neglecting Mars, Ho! which I haven't done anything to since fall.

All that's left before publication is registering a copyright (it's half done in another tab), registering an ISBN (I have nine in reserve) and making a cover.

The cover is the sticking point. It's going to be a photo of downtown Springfield with Betty Boop photoshopped in, and I'm waiting for Springtime to take the photo.

So if anyone reading this has been urging me to release a physical book, I'm projecting sometime in April.

Get it here!

So why did I move the release date up? Soylent! Or rather, a... uh, what do we call ourselves? Folks at K5 used to call themselves Kurobots, at slashdot they're slashdotters. What are we? Soylents? Anyway, a fellow here commented "Damn you! I went to see what your book was about and before I knew it I'm on chapter 7 and feel the urge to finish it tonight (otherwise I wont sleep). I've had plans for tonight..."

I'd just gotten my first check for books that had been sold the day before, but comments like that are even better than the check. I mean, I didn't write it to make money, I wrote it to be enjoyed. I walked around with a smile on my face all day and thought "gee, I need to let that poor fellow finish the book." So now you can!

If you're using FireFox to read it, PDF isn't the version to choose since FireFox sucks at rendering PDFs. It is, however, faithful to the printed version. Actually it was used to produce the printed version, and there may be some words in the HTML versions that should be italicized but aren't, I've found and fixed one or two but I'm sure I've missed some. Also, the PDF and printed versions are Gentium Book Basic while the HTML versions are Times New Roman. There is one passage that is Aral and renders funky in the HTML, and later in the book there's a Venusian nursery rhyme that is Comic Sans Serif in the printed and PDF versions.

I haven't posted the e-book version yet because I'm not satisfied with it.

If you select single file HTML (which you can download, of course) the screen will change only slightly, with links to PDF and e-book missing. Links to chapters are internal links.

I hope you folks enjoy it, that's why I wrote it.

No idea why this keeps getting rejected by Soylent eds, but anyway, there's a full 30-minute TV interview done with Snowden (in Russia) for German TV. 15 minute versions are floating around on the mainstream news outlets (except for from the broadcaster for Germans only), but you can see the interview on LiveLeak or the Internet Archive. Full transcript available from NPR.

Online now. This is a Soylent exclusive, the above link is the only link on the internet. The index and previous chapter don't link yet.

Rority never showed up in his timeship, so we're stuck in the present today. Which isn't too bad, we're having a few days of, if not warmth, at least not below zero cold. And of course I don't mean Celcius or I'd simply said "freezing".

Not that the weather was actually nice yesterday, we had thunderstorms followed by high winds, with gusts almost hurricane level.

I tried to get to Soylent on my Kyocera Android Jelly Bean this morning, and I couldn't. Google apparently doesn't have a clue about soylent, at least from the phone. It sent me to food places and all other sorts of sites, but Soylent News was nowhere to be found.

Maybe this is a good thing. All the two digit IQs showing up at slashdot have annoyed me lately and I'm hoping they stay there and reddit where they came from. Or at least, if they show up here that they realize their ignorance and STFU. I have yet to see more than one moronic comment posted here, and it was from an AC.

In other news, today will be my last Friday. After today, Friday won't exist for me; every Friday from now on is Saturday -- I'm retiring from work. Thursday is my last day of wage slavery! My former shop steward, who is now not even in the union because they promoted him to management, said "Hey, short timer! Unemployed next week?"

"Nope," I said. "Self employed. I got a check in the mail for my book yesterday." Of course, we're not talking James patterson money, just beer money.

I got another positive review about Nobots last night at Felbers. I left a copy there for folks to read, as most of those rednecks' only internet connections are their phones, few have computers. I wish someone would give me a negative critique, "I loved you book" isn't vey helpful.

Apologies, I was unprepared. I usually do this on Saturdays when I have all day, but I'm kind of rushed, I have to go to work today.

A week from tomorrow I'm releasing the rest of the book, two weeks early. I'll post Chapter 33 Tuesday and link from here, slashdot will get this chapter tomorrow and 33 Wednesday.

A thank you to all who have started reading. Someone please leave a review!

Online now.

"Let's go back fifteen years and play some Quake!"

I groaned. "Fifteen years ago this month? NO! Hell, no, dammit Rority. That was a hell of a time. I'd been hosted for two months and lost half my visitors in the move, then my host got hacked and the place kept crashing and just disappeared in a black hole..."

"Oh, sorry," he said. "My bad; GamePlex was a mistake Gumal and I had to fix. But you recovered!"

"Yeah, after being kidnapped and tortured. I didn't expect the Spanish Inquisition. No, I'm not going!"

"Your So You Want To Be a Webmaster, too article is gone, but we had nothing to do with that."

"Where did it go?"

"The Vogons destroyed Planet Quake to make way for a new interplanetary bypass. Let's go!"

"No!!!"

"We're going, and that's that."

Desatio frags 100
        Spew #100 came out last night, a live show with people there. Hear Desiato sing for the last time!
        He posts news of his and Yello's new "Arcadia" project- with a live link.
        Of the occasion, Sgt. Hulka said, "Holy giant butt zits Batman!"
        In other web nooze, Evil Avatar redesigned the Weakly Web - again. It has an "Illinois weather" theme; if you don't like it, wait a few minutes and it will change. 2/16/1999

Games can't escape GameSpy's BFG
        Version 2.08 is out- and I can't get it yet; all the ftp servers are full. When I finally do snag the sucker, you can get it here, where the server is never full.
        The GamePlex problem still isn't solved, so until I can access the Get Quake page again I'll have the new GameSpy on the main page... at least, when this REGISTERED USER actually gets a copy!
        UPDATE: It's downloaded, and is uploading as I type. Get the new GameSpy here. 2/17/1999

Yello frags Kneel
        In addition to Grannies, Yello admitted today to kidnapping Kneel Katalystic, and says he may release him. He has also kidnapped YOUR T-shirt, and demands that a ransom of (I think) $25 U.S. for delivery of your shirt be sent to:
Gimme Back my Yello shirt!
26 Claverham Park
Claverham
N.Somerset
BS49 4LR
UK
Yello plans to buy out Planet Quake with the proceeds.
        He also accurately misquotes PQ's "So you wanna be a web guy, huh??? Well think again loser boy!!" article (twice), has some quack 3 screen shots you don't want to miss, and has a GIANT interview. 2/17/1999

Fragfest should have used a smaller gun
        *sigh* I still can't log on; sounds like Flamethrower's troubles with Planet Quake last November. Again, I apologize; but I've at least mirrored the OldStuff page on FamVid's server so I could shorten this one.
        There are new links on the Links page, and a new command on the Commands page, but you'll have to wait until I can access gameperplexed again for the update. 2/19/1999

Kneel frags Yello
        In a stunning move, Kneel escaped from Yello's clutches, wrestled his weapon (a banana, I think) away, and kidnapped Yello. Yello had a backup weapon (a moldy dish rag), and each is keeping the other at bay, argueing about who is kidnapping who (or is that "whom"? Whom cares, anyway?)
        At any rate, the new Kat page may be back as soon as this weekend. Regular contributors are Yello, Kneel, Tron (3D Gamer's Edge), Morgan Parry (TenFour), Desiato (Spew), and Tom Cooney (I think "the Grin Reaper", but I'm not sure). I may contribute something once in a while if I can get my muse to stand still. Kat's new page is big and unfinished, and I have no idea how they're going to pull it off by this weekend. Maybe they'll use Yello's overcooked Puntyum 3 timewarp processor and force hundreds of alternate Ben Siskos to do the work.
        The new page will have, among other stuff: Editorials, Articles, Interviews, Game Reviews, Girl Gamers, Top Ten, Audiocadia (real audio? dunno, the link led to "AOL, er, 404 file not found". I said it wasn't done), Mod Reviews, Cheat Codes (blood 2 was up), Files, free Advertising for us po' folk that can't afford Planet Quake, Links, Give-aways, Stumble Throughs, and a weekly column by the captive Yello, who Kneel now has trapped in a bottle. 2/19/1999

Nacho Extreme joins the game
Nacho Extreme died
        Mail from Nacho- Nacho Extreme ain't gonna happen. Bummer too; it was a good page. He interviewed me, too. 2/18/1999 Update- Nacho Extreme will be here sooner or later; ok, later. Nacho is playing some game and helping to fix Gameplex. 2/19/1999

Hacker frags Gamesmania
        I finally got ICQ working again, and boy, are there a lot of messages! This one was among them: "okay, logins work for sure now. they've been up constantly since i last reset ownership. one of the reasons they were down is because gamesmania got hacked. and i also have heard of other instances of attempted hacks into the gameplex network. so you guys watch your backs. take care." 2/20/1999

Kat frags you
        Update to yesterday's post- The Grin Reaper's page is up, but not yet public. The Grin Reaper is a young Canadian named Brian Griffith who has "a bad habit of designing levels", so I guess when the Kat page is opened to the public, his link will be in the "mods, levels, etc" part.
        They're making great headway on the Kat page, they may just get it done after all! 2/20/1999
        UPDATE: It's finished! I hope they get all those Ben Siskos back to whatever weird dimensions they came from. I also hope he has a use for the ten million copies of Shakespeare's Hamlet all those monkeys wrote.
        See the new Kat page here 2/20/1999 (later)

Fragfest Disconnected
        I got access to Gameplex today, but don't know for how long. There are a few new links, and if you want to witness the Borg assimilating Quake, check out the Humor page (give the .wav a minute to load when you get there). 2/20/1999

Flamethrower joins the game
        Flamethrower, in danger of starting another "ticket to nowhere" contest, updated today, saying "There simply hasn't been ANYTHING that I could give a rats chuff about going on." He also says, "MIDWAY vs GT" - "If anyone (ANYONE) at Midway or GT would PLEASE write in about the spat I'd LOVE to hear from you. SHIT, if *anyone* has *any* rumors or interesting news, please let me [Flamethrower] know!!!"
        He also has a cool new link button. 2/20/1999

PQ Frags Webmasters
        Last week, Planet Quake published "So you want to be a webmaster", an editorial discussed widely over the net. I wrote a rebuttal, and rather than post it, I sent it to Planet Quake, who posted it here. 2/20/1999

Illinois State Government frags Y2K problem
        It seems the State of Illinois has reached Y2K compliance. This email reached my desk this morning:
        "Y2K Date Change Project Status
        "Our staff has completed the 18 months of work on time and on budget. We have gone through every line of code in every program in every system. We have analyzed all databases, all data files, including backups and historic archives, and modified all data to reflect the change. We are proud to report that we have completed the "Y2K" date change mission, and have now implemented all changes to all programs and all data to reflect your new standards:
        "Januark, Februark, March, April, Mak, June, Julk, August, September, October, November, December
        "As well as: Sundak, Mondak, Tuesdak, Wednesdak, Thursdak, Fridak, Saturdak
        "I trust that this is satisfactory, because to be honest, none of this Y to K problem has made any sense to me. But I understand it is a global problem, and our team is glad to help in any way possible. And what does the year 2000 have to do with it? Speaking of which, what do you think we ought to do later this year when the two digit year rolls over from 99 to 00? We'll await your direction." 2/24/1999

Steve frags Arcadia
        When I got home from work last night, a rather large blanket was thrown over my head and I found myself in a large burlap bag, bouncing around as if in a truck. I could hear a pair of giggling, cackling old women, but couldn't make out what they were saying. I feared the bag was on fire, as I smelled something similar to burning burlap, only sweeter. Eventually the jostling stopped, the bag was removed, and there was a blinding light in my eyes. An obviously fake German accent (actually it sounded like a Brit impersonating a Spanard) spoke. I feared it was Todd Porter looking for Flamethrower. "Nya ha ha, we have you now, Meester Frogfast.......... There is no escape............. you WEEEELL tell us what you know..........."
        I tried to tell the voice that I didn't know who Flamethrower really was, but was silenced. I hadn't expected the Spanish Inquisition.
        "Nobody expects the SSSSSSpanish inquisitionnnnn................"
        After being being shown the torture chamber with its devious devices, including a "soft pillow" and a "comfy chair", I relented. And tried to think up some convincing lies, since I didn't have a clue as to the truth.
        It wasn't Porter after all, and he couldn't care less who Flamethrower really was. It was actually Kneel on a "recruiting" mission. Since I have a low tolerance for soft pillows and couldn't bear the thought of the comfy chair, I agreed to his "request". Especially since he was armed with a bowl of raspberries.
        So now you'll see me in a weekly column titled "The Electric Gamer's Weak End Hell Hole" at Arcadia. The first edition of the column may be up by Thursdak (which would be about four days early). 2/24/1999

Asylum frags Old Man Murray
        You might not have noticed this newish site buried in the links section. Maybe it would be more prominant in the Quake Asylum where it probably belongs (still too clean- cuss a little, Marvin).
        Murray claims his site to be the "official game site of the US Postal Service" and says, "Think about it: gun toting maniacs navigating the same tired route over and over again picking up and dropping off items. Have I just described quake players or mailmen?"
        Right now (but maybe not tomorrow, this is the internet) he has a comparison between John Romero and Oscar Romero.
        BTW, Murray says, "How do you like us now that we're pretty much in charge of the post office, Blues? Ignore us now and you get no mail, baby. You and your little friend Redwood."
        I know I'm scared! Uh, wait a minute, I have direct deposit and the bills and junk mail come by... HEY, MURRAY! Ya know what yer momma told me? 2/23/1999
Update: Murray says via email, "We're working to increase the amount of swearing." Since he also says he's working on a links page, he won't have to, since he'll have a button. 2/24/1999
'nother Update: That boy's fast. In his news section today, he not only used every cussword in existance, he even made up a new one! You will now find the old fart in the Quake Asylum, complete with straitjcket. And when he finishes his links page, he gets a front page button. 2/25/1999

Steve frags Webmasters
        I want to again thank all you folks that sent mail about that "webmaster too" article on Planet Quake. It seems I have one more regular visitor, who appears to be replacing a dropout. The rest must be Fragfest regulars, as my visitor count is actually down a bit this week (except Sunday and Monday).
        Of course, Planet Quake is being boycotted again by some of the regulars at Planet Crap.
        Nice timing, guys.
        At the last count, the boycott has made Planet Quake's 100,000 hits per day drop steeply to, oh, about 99,994 per day. Give or take half a dozen.
        Meanwhile, the boycotters' pages counts have risen to an average of a phenominal 9.5 hits per week.
        The boycott stems from Planet Quake's "stealing" a domain they paid for from a site they hosted. It does sound like they aren't being exactly nice to the guy, but wtf, I don't have a domain; why should he? Unless he can afford to blow the price of a Voodoo, in which case he would have had it before PQ hosted him anyway.
        Some people can't stand to see anybody make a buck. Commie bastards. 2/25/1999

Steve can't escape Kneel's... comfy chair?
        The (ouch) interrogation has been (ooh that hurts) completed, and I was allowed to go about my "business". Why anyone would want to read an interview with me is beyond my comprehension, but if you do, there's one over at Arcadia (or will be very soon).
        Also, if you can't get enough of my drivel here, Kneel has posted the first of my weekly "Weak End Gamer's Hell Hole" columns (also at Arcadia), where I actually get to write about something besides Quake and Quake people, places, and things, and don't quite manage to. 2/26/1999

Saved games can't escape Id's shotgun
        A reader has been gently chiding me to provide Quake 2 level cheats, and he's right; I should. Especially since I haven't found anywhere else that does, aside from the sketchy info in the manual. I just want you all to know I'm working on it, but I'm also working on making a living, raising my family, writing articles (see last week's Planet Quake article So you want to be a webmaster, too, and the new weekly column at Arcadia mentioned yesterday), scribbling out some art for Kat Media's Silicone Drive, and perfecting the "left hand mouse, right hand joystick" configuration so I can quit sucking at deathmatch (I've sucked ever since I tried the new config).
        Apologies; please be patient with me! 2/27/1999

Gameplex died
        !!!!! Also when I got home, I found Gameplex completely gone! And so was the page! Until I rebuild the structure over here, the internal links at the top of the page won't work.
        I haven't got a single email from anyone at Gameplex, and everyone on my ICQ list connected with Gameplex is offline. 2/28/1999

Levelord Frags Flamethrower
        Last week Levelord had a rash; actually, (to quote him completely out of context), he said in his Bitchslap page, "There seems to be a rash, yes, a rash"
        He had a bit of a rant against... I couldn't tell who he was bitching about, except it wasn't Old Man Murray or BitchX, since he said, "I love Old Man Murray and Bitch X.". (Hear that, Murray? Your threat of withholding his mail worked!).
        Who was it? Planet Crap? Planet Ho Slap? He refused to say.
        Almost at the end, he says "The absolute depths, though, were reached by publicizing a company's internal email." O.k., He must be talking about Flamethrower.
        I got home tonight from visiting relatives in Missouri, and saw that Flamethrower's column started, "Ooops. Looks like the trippy Levelord has..." and you'll have to surf over to his page to see the rest. 2/28/1999