Probably most of you know that I'm a CT regular and never (well, rarely, at least) venture into the MA.
The warping was so bad tonight, though, that there really was no alternative. The CT was unplayable on my machine. So I went into the MA.
I would like to disabuse you of some myths:
First Myth: MA people are all rude.
Not true. I saw a lot of salutes and many pleasant conversations son Channel One. People I had not seen in years were there. I feel bad for ever having doubted our neighbors' manners.
Second Myth: ....er....there are no more myths.
Seemed to me that everyone was flying a Yak9U, a P51D, a Spit9 or a Nik. (Well, I did see a Hellcat, but I figured he was probably a CT refugee.) Ganging and vulching were rampant. The landgrab was in its prime.
All my unsupported, overgeneralized and underinformed prejudices turned out to be true.
But the most disturbing part was this: Just like Lord of the Flies, I became one of them.
I took off in a D11 (hey, why not?), found myself in Johnnie Johnson's starling-type formation with a few others, when suddenly we were in amongst red icons. Presently, to no one's surprise, the Oldman was plummeting to Earth, trailing fire. Within moments, I saw a message on Channel Two:
"Oldman, do you know what the keys are for check six?"
Here was a newbie in need of help.
"Yes, [name omitted], it's the quotes key."
"Then use it."
You know what you see when you're in an A8 and you get a good shot on a target 100 yards in front of you? That big ball of fire? That's all I could see. And so, with all my years of maturity and education, I calmly responded:
"[name omitted], check your own tail."
It's true. I am bickering in the MA. Now tell me, have I already been absorbed by the dark side?
- oldman