Click Here to Play "The Final Challenge"
I, PKer : By Request
I go to sleep every night counting sheep jumping over fences? into slaughterhouses. I dream at night about such things as DEFCON 5 thermonuclear warfare, and sigh longingly at the thought that someday, if fate is pleased with me, I could somehow be responsible. I awake, refreshed and happy, believing that what I do is in some small way bringing about the end of the world.
That pleasant thought blissfully growing malignantly in me, I hop out of my bed, load my firearm, tuck it into my boxer shorts and walk groggily towards the restroom. I clean myself up, shave myself with my trusty switchblade and then strut out the door. I stand around for a couple of minutes scratching myself until I feel that I have offended enough people, walk inside, wear my "Death to "insert religion/political alignment" T Shirt, and once again, go face this wonderful world.
Once outside, I step on as many pretty flowers as is convenient to step on without deviating too far from my course, being especially careful not to miss any. Then, I hurry towards my ultimate destination, flashing obscene gestures to anyone who looks at me.
Once at the 7-11, I stake out my Slurpee fountain and sneak refills and drinks while the guy working cashier turns away. After a couple hours of this, I grow bored and leave, kicking in headlights and slashing tires in the parking lot. I briefly consider holding up a bank, but then realize that I should keep it down to only once every other day. Instead, I wander towards the park with a BB gun and shoot a few ducks swimming in the pond. While they flail, I laugh. A girl looks at me disgusted. I shoot her a couple times then go back home, realizing that it's time to PK a little.
I get home, put on my favorite records, play them backwards and listen for orders. Once I receive these orders, I vow to fulfill them after dark, but since there are a good many hours left, I log on.
The first thing I do is do a "who 1-5" then harass them for half an hour. I tell them you get bread by slapping Slue repeatedly. I also give precise directions to Midgaard baker to any non-human race, then race to the gates and spell up the cityguards.
I pause at this point, noticing some passing boy scouts. I go upstairs, and turn on my electromagnet, watch the orienteering scoutmaster look carefully at his compass, then shrug, and lead the troop straight towards the city attack dog training kennel. I grin, and notice a troop of girl scouts selling cookies. I rush out, steal the cookies, eat one, remark how terrible they are, then go back to my computer, just as I notice someone in my range logging on.
I wait, jump him, and kill him. I munch on a few of the cookies. I repeat this a few times, taking my skull and crossbones stamp and marking up my "kill list". I make a mental note to tattoo Glen Danzig's belt buckle to my stomach. I glance at my watch, and note that it's too late to harass the nuns at the church.
Then, I notice one of my victims giving me tells. They tell me how horrible and evil I am. They tell me I must be a hateful person in RL. They proceed to call me all sorts of vulgar and obscene names. They insult my ancestry and suggest painfully impossible anatomical acts I can perform with various household items. I pause.
My feelings begin to get hurt. I think. I know regret. Oh... how evil I am... I have killed someone. I have played a game and done something within the rules-- but... so... so... evil. I repent.
Quickly, I overcome this weakness, ignore the whiner, and tell him I'm going to PK him every day he gets EQ. Then I tell him I will PK him in RL if I ever meet him.
He shuts up. I log off. I sharpen my knife.
I get to thinking. Ya know... maybe some PKers out there just really AREN'T evil in RL. The thought scares me. What horrible creatures could appear to be otherwise normal and nice people in RL and then, when brought to this, a game, where all people act in their true nature, start to viscously murder people?? At least with me, you *expect* me to PK on the mud, cause well ya know, I've done RL Pking on occasion.
I suddenly begin to know fear. Somewhere out there... there are good decent people who play this game? and actually kill. Such deception makes me shudder. How can anyone be so... deadly quiet? Who knows... maybe that nice girl next door... or your best friend... is a closet PKer.
I am too scared to perform the duties as assigned by Judas Priest playing backwards at precisely 35 rpm. I hop into bed and begin counting sheep. Desperately trying to shake the feeling that... yes, some PKers cannot be discerned from normal people. They might even be nice. They might even be normal people. Dear lord! They might be... anyone. *shudder*
I cry myself to sleep. Someone's gonna get to cause the end of the world? and it might not be me.
Khore. Who... despite all, tries to be a nice guy in RL.
Jan 13, 2003 2:00 pm