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Griefers of Gaia Online

gaiameGAIA, INTERNET — Sometimes I go barefoot. I wear a crimson lion mask and deal wrathful protection with a katana.

Before me is oceanic weeb, white noise chatter gathered around a fountain. This is Towns, a graphical chat in Gaia Online. It is IRC with the added benefit of chibi avatars. Gleeful neon pixies dance around cute and funny amidst a cloud of emoticons. Here and there cliques clump up all dressed in a theme. They refer to one another in familial terms — mother, father, brother, sister. It is all as harmonious and lightly joyful as the gentle synth music. Nothing here is evil in the least, and I think of that as I move towards the margins and away from the fountain. Just a few zones away there isn’t anyone at all, just empty neighborhoods where avatars reside.

Roleplayers gather in a small park, quite away from the masses, and are somewhat more reserved. They create roleplaying characters, not necessarily the same as their avatar, with most of the constructive activity taking place outside of Towns. They’ll write thousands of words, draw portraits, and put out comic strips as they constitute each character and their shared worlds. Often but not always they are members of guilds, clans, and families, and may set up duels and even full scale wars with one another. The mood isn’t tense, but clearly not all is serene. They are not this far away by accident.

Griefers are hanging out by a gigantic chessboard adjacent to the fountain. They have their own mangled dialect — a familiar and intentional development to enrage targets, identify one another, and possibly to make their enemies underestimate their evil potential. Being involved constantly in roleplay, if only in Towns, and if only to disrupt roleplaying for more serious players, their opinions on the topic are of course fraught, but they are totally candid,

“I love making fun of people that love it … I enjoy the writing aspect of it.”

Some griefers say they detest the very idea of roleplaying without any attempt to justify the contradiction of their presence, and still others blame the community at large for their own early move from roleplaying to griefing. Some who hang out at the chessboard appear to consider themselves elites in roleplaying. This confused group fights with itself as often as not, and there is some surprising jargon peppered into the chat: Doxing, booting, and swatting.

Zeeden stands at his post under the chessboard, surrounded by white haired bronze skinned beauties, the Regals, and a core retinue of Phantom Clan underlings. His skunk-like avatar is the epicenter of this pathetic activity, online so often and asleep so rarely rumors say he suffers chronic mental breakdowns because his addiction to Gaia is so extreme.

Standing across the entrance to the chessboard are the godmodders of Aeturnum, roleplayers whose creative faculties are impaired. They are dressed in spooky black clothes and perpetually roleplay as immortal supervillains who never lose. In the roleplay scene, this is called godmodding, a genre of writing that exists just to invent powers which keep a character perpetually alive.

In a typical encounter, a griefer will attempt to lure a godmodder or a new roleplayer into accepting a duel and then pull out at the last instant, leaving their target apoplectic. But it doesn’t always work.

Aeturnum has turned out, and Zeeden is shamed for his cowardice after he’s backed out of the agreed-upon duel with their godmodder. The members of Aeturnum, outnumbering Zeeden’s mostly afk crew, deal out accusations of pedophilia and pepper him with insults. The attempted troll has backfired about as badly as possible and Zeeden is completely humiliated. He will disappear for three days as his reputation is further degraded and his fellow clan members make empty, embarrassing hacking threats at Aeturnum. When he does return, it’s his clan that has been hacked.

The griefers of Gaia Online are so prone to rage and self-destruction that I wonder how long they can go on. But I do not expect anything to change suddenly, as much as I like to envision the chessboard in flames. As long as no one stands in their way, they’ll perpetually fuck around in Towns, getting ever greater joy out of the same childish bullshit.

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Child raised by monkeys ‘better off’ without human family

rhesus macaque
For years a noble group of savage monkeys raised a baby as their own.

LOS ANGELES – Investigators working on an impromptu scientific study have determined a boy found living among our furry primate cousins is actually “better off” than if his original human parents, the Smiths, had raised him as their own.

Separated at birth by a freak accidental abandonment at an old mine shaft, George was taken in by a rhesus macaque monkey collective.

George’s stunted development and love for bananas shows how his primal upbringing blocked his ability to use language and left him severely retarded. However, their conclusions show that despite those glaring limitations, George will have a better life than if he had lived under the oppressive rules of the Smiths’ uncool, regressive shithouse.

“He would have blown that joint,” said Lebal Drocer, Inc. Head of Teenage Rebellion Development Angstrom H. Troubadele. “He woulda been badass.”

Totally nude, George hurled his feces at chronicle.su brokers gathered nearby. They were placing bets on his black market value, speculating on real human trafficking shit. They based their bets on the puritanical insanity of the Smiths, his human family.

“They didn’t love nobody,” a former neighbor recalled. “They hated the world and themselves. They hated genitals.”

“See, he’s fucking badass though, and that’s why nobody could sell him,” Troubadele said. “George wouldn’t go for that shit. George goes for the face and eyes. George ain’t property.”

Chronicle executives were overheard commenting, “We’ll slap an RFID chip in that motherfucker and blow this joint. I don’t have all day to sit around babysitting mongoloids. Bitch I work state media. I got dental to think about.”

George is expected to be allowed to live peacefully among his primate foster family, until such time as he is tapped by the exclusive and hip Lebal Drocer Laboratories for testing, whereupon he will be stripped from his mother’s arms and carried off for intensive job site training in retail.

George’s story is part of a continuing series, Puppy Monkey Baby, brought to you by chronicle.su

This story was delivered unto you graciously by Lebal Drocer, Inc. – bringing you the finest in real news quality. No seeds. No stems.

It’s dank journalism.

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Big news as something happens in front of many people

Young people see something happen and film it too
Something certainly seems to be happening: Image.

Washington– Reports came in from around the world Friday indicating something is happening somewhere, for big reasons.

“Something is definitely going on,” said an eyewitness in a phone interview from his apartment. He asked to remain anonymous. “It’s bad but people are smiling about it.”

All this paragraph is supposed to contain more information about the first thing you just read. It remains vague, because really, it is just too much right now. It is just way too much to write here.

“We’re looking for all this to end soon,” said Staff Assistant to the Executive Stan Leadbetter. “But soon is such a relative word, and I say it in relation to the heat death of the universe. We are just trying to buy as much time as we can.”

[pullquote]We’re looking for all this to end soon, near the end of the known Universe.[/pullquote]A worried looking woman frantically ran up to chronicle.su writers screaming and crying in an extinct language. We talked backward and she seemed to recognize our general tone, but we knew that she didn’t understand, because neither did we. Everyone stood around silently after that waiting for something else to happen.

The incident could affect holiday travel, but the general reaction suggests people are hard pressed to give a shit, even in the face of certain doom.

“We never wanted to leave anyway,” says onlooker Gary Slesinger. “We were fine at home.”

More later as this story develops into something.