Indefinitely

This place… it just seems to echo…

…a thought that disappears into the caverns… and not a soul to hear it.

It seems as if this site’s suddenly quieted. For just a day or two, it froze. Not a word nor a quip. Or so it seems.

Of course, it’s not like that at all. People are milling around, sending fragments now and then, composing blogs as we speak, thinking of forum ideas to nag our minds. Yet few are posting; I will not debase them, as they may be busy, as are we all.

It seemed only yesterday that MMOTales was founded; just yesterday that a community was built; just yesterday that an iron fist, followed by an iron curtain, crushed it all. And we are its fragments: we melted ourselves together, to build a crude but sustainable base, away from persecution. Away from unjust fear.

So why are we quiet?

There stands only about thirty of us that flock to this site; that number has barely twitched. Is it a cruel, slap of reality, or is it a solemn blessing, that we are not flocked by dozens of newbies, asking inadequate questions and simple memes? How odd, that no matter how well we forge a sword, there will be a double edge, no matter how much we hone the blade. It needs not be an edge of the sharp end, for if it hits us, it hurts no matter which end strikes the body.

Is it hurtful to bring back repressed, dangerous memories? I think not. These are but figments of the past. Though, I am sure some may still cringe with the sting of betrayal and mistrust. We subsist because we are bounded by a single enemy. Without that, we are little more than a motley crew of gamers, of techies. And we would still subsist, because we are gamers, we are techies.

But being anything helps nothing if it, he or she does not speak, does not type, does not send, does not express itself. I would detest the sight of cobwebs o’er this fine website (lest it be Hallow’s Eve), so fine in its design, simple, humble, yet deeply intricate, filled with creativity and opportunity. But silence is death to a site born to write.

Aye, there were times when Ganzicus posted comics, inexplicably hilarious. Aye, there were times when Anikabelle was the light of the party. Aye, there were times when the Ninja silently assassinated dissidents, without touching a sword or a dagger. Aye, when Mipsacri strangled spammers to a ghastly silence with cables of delicately refined iron. Aye, when AznRiceFan posted a Tale nigh every week that it almost felt like nigh every day. Aye, when there were Fenrir, FireLeo86, darkwar4ever, dest1, Vicelin, Pirkid, guosim, and the slew of them all. Some have stayed. Some have gone. But we persist.

They were golden years. But that doesn’t mean that now can be as bright as then. Communities evolve, that is an inevitability. They change, some for the better, some for the worse. We are not an arrogant species; we overlook the cliffs of Basilmarket, and we laugh at the inadequacies of their trolls and spammers, their hackers and leaders, their flightless birds and headless chickens. Even in ineptitude we can refine it to an art, not a crude club to beat unsuspecting e-passersby. Aye, we were born on the grounds of Henesys, in the streets of Kerning, but we can advance, we can move to Valhalla, to Ascension, to the moon!

It seems that I can never escape this sense of loneliness, not enough that I’m likely repeating a theme most hated and most wanted to be forgotten. That is my folly alone. But the silence is slowly killing us. We seek reconciliation, and we seek resources; we seek food, if need be.

All we need are a battery and jumper cables. That’s all we need.

That is all.