A quick post because I forgot to hit publish.
Let’s take a moment to honor the many fine designers who ensure we’ll never have to manually match our bits ever again. I would never try to ‘splain to someone how life altering it is to not have to tint my cartoon’s body parts. Those of us who get it get it.
If you don’t get it then you kids stay outta my yard!
Credits after the cut.
Some things I’ll never forget. Special little moments. Like my first fatpack of skins. Tuli. Way back when. Back before windlight.
Change is alright, too, as long as my familiar favorites stick around.
Pixel, flesh, mesh or plastic, it doesn’t matter. Boys are suckers for a great rack.
I had the start of an interesting conversation, about plausibility in free-form role play. In question? The likelihood of a bullet setting off an alcohol-soaked floor in a fiery blaze.
My answer? Who cares. When one of the parties is a demonvampirelycan and the other has wings sprouting out of his back, well, willing suspension of disbelief has to come into play.
So a wolf and a faeling were jerking off by the old porn theater …
Later this month I celebrate my sixth rez day. And just in time I hit CCS level 70. Once upon a time level 70 meant god-like, one-shot-kill terror for those role playing in the City of Lost Angels.
These days? Not so much.
Feles is steadily adding converts in CoLA for a season filled with scantily clad merriment to usher in the spanking Santa. Her muddled beliefs haven’t been a hard sell so far, probably because not too many would argue against the benefits of a city filled with short skirts and man cozies. And spanking.