Journey Into a Wasteland

goswser

United States3546 Posts

March 20 2010 20:44 GMT

My journey began in the deep dark void, or emptiness, of sorrow. of hope, but mostly of despair. This land is known as Nobetaland, and is off the coast of Nova Scotia. In this desolate landscape, burglars and thieves lurk, trying to rob the poor, shivering. They curse the gods, but mostly they curse the KeyKeeper, the Almighty god making them miserable, the Blizzard. Although traveling missionaries, roaming the desolate landscape, sometimes relieve poor beings such as myself, they are few and far between. In Nobetaland, more often, a wearisome traveler of hope and despair and sadness and grief such as myself comes across the Administrars, a band of devoted, though ruthless people(that I personally feel an inner affection for :D ), that are believed to be descendants of the conquistadors who earlier came from Spain to the United States. If you are ever wandering these lands, and take a few minutes to relax, snack, and up your post count, remember to build a fire always, because if you feel that Chill breathing down your neck, the next thing you will feel is his BanHammer, and then - six months, or a week, or the all-feared perma trip to the void, all expenses paid.
Now, I do not profess do be a particularly devout or holy fellow, but most people in my position would also doubt the Blizzard. While I might not be as devout as the next guy, one trait that I do have that I am proud of is a perseverance that is necessary to survive long in this wasteland. I have done many things to cross the border to Betaland from Nobetaland, and though some would say I am insane, I sing my song to them....

I'm in the land of Nobetaland
And this is what I sing'
I may not be strong, but I carry along
Hoping for the Spring (but mostly end of May)

Although I'm not the toughest
Although I may die soon
I hope for success, I wish for the best
I walk on, and sing my tune!

[spoiler]hese are my few treasures, and what I have futilely based my hopes of crossing over on

[spoiler]

Beginning in my quest to cross over, I tried begging people I knew with a passport to Betaland to help me obtain one. "Pleeeeaaaassssee" I cried! But Smeagol wants his precious, and Smeagol kept it. When this approach failed, I ventured into the realm of the foolishness in my search for a key. I tried futilely to obtain my key from the future, in particular, the latter half of tommorow, this being simply MorroW. I did not realize how difficult it is to win a key from the future, and when I asked(pmed) the future, I recieved negligible results. The response from this spirit of the future was: "gl, dont ask ppl for keys, its annoying."

These terrible results left me with no choice but to dance with the Blizzard, so to speak. First, using powerful magic of telepaphone, I tried to establish a connection with the Blizzard. At first, the gods were so busy they could not spare the time to respond, as they were dealing with other Earthlings at the time. But remember, persistence is my strong feature, and I didn't give up. I sang my song...

I'm in the land of Nobetaland
And this is what I sing'
I may not be strong, but I carry along
Hoping for the Spring (but mostly end of May)

Although I'm not the toughest
Although I may die soon
I hope for success, I wish for the best
I walk on, and sing my tune!

and pressed on, using telepaphone over and over, hour after hour, until the echanting tunes of the telepaphone had grown wearisome, and I had almost given up. Finally, an emissary of the Blizzard heard my call! Using my sly tongue, I wove a story of despair, of sorrow, of a team of one which wanted a key so that its members could practice as hard as those of TeamEG. The gods were very swift in their decision, however, and my communication was ended.
With no choice left to me, I decided to wade into the realm of utter despair. I went to the place of my treasures, and began entering the most hopeless 26 alphanumeric codes I could think of. "ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ" did not work, though my mother taught this to me as a mere child, and told me that it would help me someday. "DustinBrowderIsAnAsshole" also got no results. I have come to the conclusion that whoever the KeyKeeper of the Blizzard is has a very pathetic sense of humor.
My persistence worn thin, I reach the end of my quest. But how does it end? That is up to YOU to decide. Will I recieve the blunt end of an Administrar Banhammer? Will some kind soul such as Mani, or another converted(brain-adled) Administrar PM me? Or will this sad tale, like my pathetic keyboard blog post a while ago, rapidly fade into obscurity?