Hijo del Perro
July 24th, 2006, 08:15 PM
Log #1 - Day 1
I suppose I've been known as an innovator in my field. I've gradually graduated from the title of "young and wishful" into the realm of "eccentric". I'm seldom wrong, so that also works in my favor, as well, and is a nice pitch line. Unfortunately, the people you go and you strive to make happy and need in order to survive ultimately become the albatross that drag you under.
I've made my name in electronic wrestling. I'm probably the most influential electronic wrestler of the last two years. That's not even tooting my own horn, that's a fact of life here on GW. You can go to HCW and half of the changes that have come to pass have been because of my bitching and moaning and nitpicking... oh, and did I mention genius?
That is why it pains me to see project after project slip through my fingers. I guess the epicenter of blame gets back to me, but these have all be really solid projects with really solid ideas behind them that I just let go. Like I said, I'm mostly at fault, but it goes back to the people as well almost the same fold.
Newbs.
You see, there are so-called "Newb Nazis" out there and I'm not one of them. If you ask anybody, I've tried to play fair and nice with these rodants of ruin. I've tried to not just peacefully coexist, but create a electrosphere for them to thrive. It all comes back at me, however, as if you give a kid of the current generation a yard they take the whole field and then they take over the concession stand.
They aren't JUST carnivores, they are scavengers at that. They won't just let something die, either, they'll keep picking and gnawing on the lifeless cadaver until their bloodlust has been quinched. I can take blame for the juicey flavor, but I'm not claiming the goodness of the grissle. That's right, they suck the grissle and marrow right from the bones of my brain children.
I should call the UN and see this qualifies as genocide.
Now, another brilliant idea has hit me like blue berry blunt. It's sucked me down hard and is holding me in and is preparing to exhale. The exhale symbolizes the execution of this new plot within my cerebrum. Though, really, I almost wish for the idea to choke on it's own smoke and save me the humiliation of again going through this.
My ideas are but an all you can eat buffet for those with 200 posts or less.
Maybe you aren't quite grasping the situation. I created this e-fed, right? It is called World Hardcore Wrestling. Simple name, awesome concepts, but none of which fully came to helm because we were ambushed.
Let me take it back a step further. We had gone on a campaign and had recruited a... decent amount of people. Good role-players, respectable, and we figured we'd stay pretty small. Be a grassroots operation. Well, a forum was put up. My compatriot Dean and I were standing by and waiting for our core members to join in.
Well, as the wheel turned in our misfortune, every mark in Newbville bought a ranch style house on our property.
What was supposed to be a grassroots promotion of 17 or so roleplayers turned into a 32 man nightmare. There was no quarter to be had, as notoriously bad characters such as Lil' Finga and Jonathan Hearst Wayne or whatever the f*ck his name was. It was like Freddy Krueger stuck his claws into the stomach of the promotion and was laughing and laughing as we slowly dropped to our knees.
At this point, the knees were buckling and our eyes were rolling into the back of our head.
We put out a fantastic show and you know, I was so happy about that. I wish that day would've never ended, as it just continued to spiral out of control. I put together an iniative to shape things up and I was smacked upside the head with criticism. I was called a hardliner and was supposedly brandishing an iron fist of some sort.
Whatever.
Now the down fall of my Barely Legal Wrestling promotion was my fault only in the fact nobody, besides maybe Dean, could come up with the type of material I was putting out. THIS, however, cannot be my burden to bear. It just can't be. I couldn't handle this sort of crap fest.
I mean, the jobbers of old were some how looking like championship material.
But, I digress. This is just a brief intro into my most recent comings of the pass in this long saga that has been my stay here at GW. More will be coming, as I am never at a shortage of things to rant about.
- Perrito
I suppose I've been known as an innovator in my field. I've gradually graduated from the title of "young and wishful" into the realm of "eccentric". I'm seldom wrong, so that also works in my favor, as well, and is a nice pitch line. Unfortunately, the people you go and you strive to make happy and need in order to survive ultimately become the albatross that drag you under.
I've made my name in electronic wrestling. I'm probably the most influential electronic wrestler of the last two years. That's not even tooting my own horn, that's a fact of life here on GW. You can go to HCW and half of the changes that have come to pass have been because of my bitching and moaning and nitpicking... oh, and did I mention genius?
That is why it pains me to see project after project slip through my fingers. I guess the epicenter of blame gets back to me, but these have all be really solid projects with really solid ideas behind them that I just let go. Like I said, I'm mostly at fault, but it goes back to the people as well almost the same fold.
Newbs.
You see, there are so-called "Newb Nazis" out there and I'm not one of them. If you ask anybody, I've tried to play fair and nice with these rodants of ruin. I've tried to not just peacefully coexist, but create a electrosphere for them to thrive. It all comes back at me, however, as if you give a kid of the current generation a yard they take the whole field and then they take over the concession stand.
They aren't JUST carnivores, they are scavengers at that. They won't just let something die, either, they'll keep picking and gnawing on the lifeless cadaver until their bloodlust has been quinched. I can take blame for the juicey flavor, but I'm not claiming the goodness of the grissle. That's right, they suck the grissle and marrow right from the bones of my brain children.
I should call the UN and see this qualifies as genocide.
Now, another brilliant idea has hit me like blue berry blunt. It's sucked me down hard and is holding me in and is preparing to exhale. The exhale symbolizes the execution of this new plot within my cerebrum. Though, really, I almost wish for the idea to choke on it's own smoke and save me the humiliation of again going through this.
My ideas are but an all you can eat buffet for those with 200 posts or less.
Maybe you aren't quite grasping the situation. I created this e-fed, right? It is called World Hardcore Wrestling. Simple name, awesome concepts, but none of which fully came to helm because we were ambushed.
Let me take it back a step further. We had gone on a campaign and had recruited a... decent amount of people. Good role-players, respectable, and we figured we'd stay pretty small. Be a grassroots operation. Well, a forum was put up. My compatriot Dean and I were standing by and waiting for our core members to join in.
Well, as the wheel turned in our misfortune, every mark in Newbville bought a ranch style house on our property.
What was supposed to be a grassroots promotion of 17 or so roleplayers turned into a 32 man nightmare. There was no quarter to be had, as notoriously bad characters such as Lil' Finga and Jonathan Hearst Wayne or whatever the f*ck his name was. It was like Freddy Krueger stuck his claws into the stomach of the promotion and was laughing and laughing as we slowly dropped to our knees.
At this point, the knees were buckling and our eyes were rolling into the back of our head.
We put out a fantastic show and you know, I was so happy about that. I wish that day would've never ended, as it just continued to spiral out of control. I put together an iniative to shape things up and I was smacked upside the head with criticism. I was called a hardliner and was supposedly brandishing an iron fist of some sort.
Whatever.
Now the down fall of my Barely Legal Wrestling promotion was my fault only in the fact nobody, besides maybe Dean, could come up with the type of material I was putting out. THIS, however, cannot be my burden to bear. It just can't be. I couldn't handle this sort of crap fest.
I mean, the jobbers of old were some how looking like championship material.
But, I digress. This is just a brief intro into my most recent comings of the pass in this long saga that has been my stay here at GW. More will be coming, as I am never at a shortage of things to rant about.
- Perrito