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BAT Mud

Reviews Section

To play or not to play:  that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of potential lagging,
Or to take arms against a land of mantis,
And by opposing, skin them?  To die: to beep;
No more, and by a beep to say we end
The heart-ache and the deep horrendous damage
That chitin shields not, 'tis an application
Rapidly to be sent.  To die, to beep;
To beep: perchance to crash: ay, there's the rub;
For in that beep of crash what gith may come
When we have travelled between Outpost and home,
Our wagon stops: there's the slow lag
That means we soon may be losing the link;
For who would bear the blinding storms of sand,
The templar's hot ire, the rinth rat's antipathy,
The pangs of spice withdrawl, the steal delay,
The ambition of merchants and the scars
That sparring Byn and the unwary take,
When they themselves might quit test make
In a tent of brown?  who would carry rocks,
To forage stone under a burning sun,
But that check of Karma after death,
The options choice that shows us what guilds
Or races we become, measures the trust.
And makes us choose to think and emote well
Instead of fighting hours on end with rats?
Thus roleplay does make actors of us all;
And thus the earthly cry of the real world
Is lost among the need for playing time,
And wars in halls and battlefields alike
With magick vile and psionics to dread,
And elves to steal my ratlon.-Come back here!
My ArmageddonMUD! Krath, in thy hot deserts
Be all my time expended.