Airship Rally Across Caledon

Saturday saw the great Time Essential Airship Wreck Rally, organized by Miss Darlingmonster Ember and Miss Solace Fairlady, and originating and ending in Port Caledon.

Three plucky fliers took part: Mr. Nathaniel Lorefield...

...Miss Jed Dagger...

...and Mr. Lucien Brentano.

The goal was to hit nine marks across Caledon, and to drop a piece of the airship on a target at each location. Points were given for speed and accuracy.

A large, enthusiastic crowd gathered at the starting platform. Lady Gabrielle Riel, the Duchess of Carntaigh, provided excellent commentary throughout the rally, with more than a half-dozen judges providing updates to her as the racers arrived at the checkpoints.

L to R: Captain Wildstar Beaumont, Miss Ember, Miss Callipygian Christensen, Mr. PJ Trenton

Of course, the event was also a fundraiser for RFL. Both the pilot entry fees and spectator contributions went toward Team Caledon's RFL donation.

L to R: Captain Beaumont, Miss Christensen, Mr. Trenton, Mr. Geoffrey Xenobuilder

Mr. Xenobuilder, Miss Solace Fairlady

Lady Gabrielle, Miss Bookworm Hienrichs

Miss Dagger's ship hits the starting target

Miss Fairlady, Miss Christensen, Miss Rowen Derryth

Mrs. Breezy Carver Fabre, channeling her inner Mary Poppins, Steampunk-style

Mr. Lorefield's airship returns to the starting point, a little worse for wear

The race was an exciting one. Mr. Brentano started by dropping himself on the initial target, scoring a direct hit that was perhaps outside the intent of the rules. He later suffered an all-too-familiar mishap at a sim crossing and vanished from the world. He was last seen hurtling off the grid at a high speed. We had a moment of silence for the fallen participant.

Miss Dagger went off with a quick start and at one point caught up to Mr. Lorefield. (The racers had staggered start times.) She had a little bad luck with the targets, dropping parts of her airship with great accuracy, only to have them bounce off the target and land clear.

Mr. Lorefield, the eventual winner, made it through the first seven checkpoints with little difficulty, only to run into a full parcel around checkpoint eight, losing his entire airship back to inventory. (Ah, problems that first life rallies lack!) He eventually made it back to the course and to the finish line.

A great day for flying, as well as for RFL. Well done!

Maryland Steampunkery

The state of Maryland is no stranger to Steampunks. Miss Brigid Ashwood resides in the state (though she also has a shop in Caledon Cape Wrath) and is a creator of "winged things & improbable machines," as her blog is subtitled. She "paints steampunk bugs, clockwork dolls, fairytales and vinyl toys" and "seek[s] to reinterpret mythic and fairytale worlds and heroines for a modern audience."

I received the May/June 2011 issue of Montgomery Magazine, focusing on Montgomery County, Maryland. The cover story, "Jet Packs and Ray Guns and Time Machines, Oh My!", features local artists Mr. Daniel Stuart and Mr. Ed Kidera.

Their website, The Steam Emporium, provides information on the two gentlemen, The Society of Strange Technologies, Enigmatic Artifacts, and Mechanisms (S.T.E.A.M.), and the mysterious inventor, Bernard Maets. For those with deep pockets, the site also shows artifacts for sale!

I've scanned the article (4 pages, but 7 MB) to Google Docs for anyone interested in reading the whole thing.

Mad Scientists, Bad Brains, and Gravediggers

This past weekend was the Fourth Annual Mad Scientists' Convention in Steam Sky City. The assemblage of scientists and engineers (mad or otherwise), Misunderstood Geniuses, Villains, and hangers-on (Yours Truly) was impressive.

Below, some of the participants gathered at Mr. and Mrs. Volare's welcoming event.

As an added bonus, the same weekend saw the annual Steam Sky City spring hunt. The goal was to find the seventeen brains scattered about the city:

As is traditional, the Volares had thoughtfully prepared clues to the locations of the brains. As is also traditional, these clues were not precise roadmaps to the destinations. To quote the brochure:

These clues are sold for amusement only and are not intended to actually direct you to brains, provide advice for life, nor instruct in self-trepination techniques.

Indeed so.*

I managed a respectful 10 out of 17 brains.

I missed the Manifesto Rant this year, sadly. The event attracted quite a number of wannabe overlords, including Miss Stereo Nacht, The Master, Miss Darlingmonster Ember, Miss Nyree Rain, Miss Magdalena Kamanev, Miss Kimika Ying, Miss Glorf Bulmer, and Miss Jed Dagger. (Where are the men? Have they no ambitions?) The Master won the contest, while Miss Ember received the "Who's Laughing Now?" award.

Mrs. Volare had the best approach, though, noting that bragging before the fact seemed fraught with the danger of failure (one becomes a laughing stock to one's prospective subjects) and, indeed, might precipitate failure, should a do-gooder take the opportunity to Save the Day. Surely the optimal approach is to implement the plan and let the subjugated populace wake up to their new overlord. Fair point.

I thought I would take the opportunity the following day to have a good rant of my own:

What's this? She looks awfully familiar. In fact...wait a minute...My speech didn't go over well?

In addition, the weekend had a gravedigging event: participants needed to locate and dig up body parts, then assemble a creature, giving it life and, one presumes, letting it run amok until the villagers locate their torches and pitchforks. My effort:

I thoughtfully placed it just at the entrance to my home in Caledon Downs, there to greet unannounced visitors.

*This is a little unfair. The Unhelpful Hints often do provide some guidance where to look, particularly to the hunter who knows a little something about Steam Sky City. It is certainly true, however, that the clues are more enlightening after the fact than before.

At the Movies

Dr. Garth Goode has added a motion picture theater on his lands in Caledon Burroughs. The theater is just past the Museum of Unnatural History. Don't go in if you suffer from arachniphobia.

I enjoyed a glass of Old Guvnah whisky prior to the main feature, and then ordered a bucket of popcorn.

Watching the preparation was a treat by itself: the corn first goes through the shuck-o-lator, then the de-cob-o-tron, and, finally, it is popped in the cornflagration. (What a delightful name!)

The motion picture playing that evening was The Mender of Nets, a melodrama directed by Mr. D. W. Griffith and starring Miss Mary Pickford. Miss Pickford plays the title character, a young lady whose heart is captured by a fisherman. It soon transpires that the fisherman has had a dalliance with another lady, and the two rekindle their romance. Miss Pickford's brother discovers the perfidy and, armed with a pistol, attempts to extract revenge on the false swain.

I found it entertaining to make up my own dialogue during the film, although I am fairly certain that mine would have been censored.

Stop the Presses - Crime in Seraph City

[Not a real "stop the presses" moment because I didn't make it to the opening of the Primgraph's offices in Seraph City, where I would have learned of the delightful brain-teaser situated there. Ah well. - RJ]

Some days a dame can't get a break. One minute I was minding my business, on a bender in a sleazy bar in Tanglewood Forest, ignoring dirty looks from the tinies who were the regulars in that place, and the next minute I was in the Blue Angel, a dive of a diner, polished chrome all around me, my head pounding. That could only mean one thing: some metaphysical rift in the space-time continuum had placed my hangover and me in Seraph City.

The first thing I did was to order a plate of bacon and eggs and and entire pot of coffee. Something told me I was going to need my wits about me.

My head still ached, but I no longer felt as though an entire baseball team was taking batting practice inside my skull, so it was time for the next-most important item: finding some clothes that didn't make me stick out like a sore thumb.

I visited the offices of the Daily Prim, Seraph City's rag, hoping to find out if this time rift was affecting everyone, or if I was just special. The hour was late, though, and no one was about.

What caught my eye was a chalk outline on the floor. "Good idea," I thought, "bringing the news to the office, instead of chasing it all around the city." It seemed that one of their reporters had been kidnapped and poisoned. His notebook, which might have a clue to the antidote, was missing. The clock was ticking. Could I find him in time?

Ahem. This is no place for false modesty: of course I could. And, to be meta about this, so can you. Clues to the whereabouts of the notebook are spread about the Daily Prim building.

I marveled at the modern sights of the city: the Carrington hotel, the clubs where the played "jazz" music (horrid modern stuff, but it seems to be all the rage), the elevated trains, and the wires everywhere carrying the electricity.

I stepped into the Seraph Club. Perhaps if I drank enough absinthe cocktails I would find myself back in Tanglewood...

Smile, It's Your #&$^% Wedding Day

The other day, I found myself at the Mayflower Hotel, in Washington, DC. (Most recently famed as the meeting place for former New York Governor Elliot Spitzer and Ashley Dupree. For what it's worth.) As it was a Saturday in April, I was not surprised to see a wedding party climb out of a limo and wander into the hotel. I wasn't surprised to see the bridesmaids in a horrible color (goldenrod?) and shape that flattered no one.

What did surprise me was the sour expression on the bride's face. It's supposed to be a happy occasion, and she looks as though she's about to take someone's head off. I think her concern had to do with the flowers, but the details don't matter.

This wasn't an isolated incident. Some years ago, I was to a wedding in Queens with a scowling bride. Nothing was good enough. I didn't understand it, as the church was amazing, the family pulled out all the stops at the reception, and everything seemed to go smoothly. I have no idea why she looked so annoyed. (I think I lost some hearing at the reception because the band was so loud. I ended up wandering outside every once in a while to spend time with the smokers, just because it was relatively quiet. But I suspect the bride thought the nose bleed-inducing volume was a good thing.)

Look, ladies, it doesn't matter if the florist couldn't get that special type of orchid in time. No one will notice that one of the herald trumpeters hit a sour note. (Yes, someone hired #*($& herald trumpeters.) It's okay if the rumakis aren't piping hot. Et cetera.

Here's what's important:

* the groom shows up - on time and sober are plusses - and says his lines on cue

* the minister/rabbi/imam/justice of the peace/guy you know is legit and has a real marriage license

* the people you want to be there are there

That's about it. No one gives a rat's behind about the rest. If something bothers you, tell the video guy to edit it out of the copy he gives you. Twenty years later, you won't remember any of it, so you'll never know something was taken out.

Enjoy it. Be happy. Remember, your dad just spent a fortune on the whole shebang. And it only comes around once. (He won't pay for the rest of them.)

An Empty Stretch of Glengarry

This stretch of Glengarry, by the strait separating Downs and Glengarry from Kintyre, stands nearly empty.

A store called Fauntiques and Bram Designs once stood by the stone building in the foreground, while a 3072 sq. meter parcel owned by Miss Mary Nuyasaka constitutes the remainder of the empty space. (Miss Nuyasaka recently announced her intention to leave Caledon.)

One would think the waterfront property would be inviting to someone - an entrepreneur who could make use of a water landing (or a quick getaway!), or a Captain of Industry who wants a luxurious waterfront home in which to count her ill-gotten gains.

Oddly, ever since I've been in the Downs, those properties have had high turnover. I don't think I'm the reason why, but I shall keep an open mind about the situation.

Port of Kasra

The Port of Kasra is a new Steampunk-themed RP sim, set in Florida in the 1880s.

Like New Barataria, Kasra is steamy (in the sense of high humidity) and swampy. One can almost see the rust form on the iron.

As an aide to orienting the newcomer, information about buildings or areas pops up as one passes near.

Below, Builders' Hall:

The sim is a work in progress: many of the shops in the teleport area are still for rent, as are a number of the buildings in the RP area. There must be a back story to the place, as there are vague references to the "original inhabitants" of the area - who seem to have technology far advanced from that of the 1880s. Note the Difference Engine below:

(Okay, it's not exactly cutting edge. The Mac Pro says "G5" on it.) The setup seems to control the power plant:

Below, the town square:

To the far northeast lies a mysterious island:

On the edge of the mainland, a lighthouse keeps guard:

The strange thing about the sim is that there are teleporters to take one to different parts of the town. This takes one out of any immersive RP. Still odder is that one of the destinations - far above sea level - is a "Gorean residential area." Steampunk always struck me as an empowering genre - imagining the 19th century not as it was, but as it could have been. (Often dystopian, true, but with scientists - both male and female - working to create their visions of the future.) Gor, on the other hand... well, "empowering" is not the word I'd use. Finding Gorean themes in a Steampunk RP area was a little disconcerting.

Nonetheless, it will be interesting to see how Kasra develops.

Steampunk Arts Festival

I had the occasion to visit the Steampunk Arts Festival now underway. The local transporter provides movement from exhibit to exhibit, such as this structure by M. Fuschia Nightfire.

Mr. Sextan Shepherd, of Nemo fame, is also one of the exhibitors, displaying his characteristic style.

This Steampunk house towers off the ground.

Miss Bryn Oh has a distinctive exhibit.

Adding jet packs to a pennyfarthing is inspired.

In all, there are about a dozen exhibitors - some more Steampunk than others. Worth a look.

Well Done!

Congratulations to Guvnah Desmond Shang and his elite team of soldiers on the successful completion of their mission to kill infamous terrorist Osama bin Obolensky.* Although the Guvnah has said on numerous occasions that he prefers to capture such notorious villains and put them on trial, apparently bin Obolensky refused to be taken alive. According to one news release, "Caledonian forces broke into the heavily-guarded compound and surrounded bin Obolensky, giving him time to surrender. When he refused the offer after six nanoseconds, the soldiers opened fire." Well done, lads!

Showing the spirit of terrorists everywhere, one of bin Obolensky's henchmen used a woman as a human shield. It turns out that humans make pretty poor shields from bullets.

Guvnah Shang said he would maintain the current security alert at ports and airship docks, mainly because he enjoyed seeing the catgirls partially disrobe as they went through security checkpoints. "Every once in a while I get to see a bit of ankle, and it brightens up my day," said the unrepentant Guvnah.


* No relation to the New Babbage resident of the same name.