11/23/2010: The Little Hovel of Hell, Edition 1

Sleep. Sleep, how I miss thee. It seems that you continue to find elaborate methods to purposefully not grace me with your presence. Ah well. I'll just have to write another column here at my blog. Hello, once again, readers. I suppose it time to impart more knowledge to you. In all seriousness, may this troll thoroughly assure you that the last place in which you would like to visit regarding our lovely home that is Laurelin, is the official server forums. Now, little one, you may be sitting there at your desk asking why this is! From the moment you pressed that enormous 'ENTER MIDDLE EARTH' button on the character selection screen, you just knew there would be lovely, helpful players to aid you in your travels across Middle Earth. And, in turn, they'd love to hear of your ideas.

WRONG.

The server and the forums are too different venues. One is like, oh let's say, 'the greener grass on the other side of the fence', while the other side is sizzling PIT OF BURNING, WRETCHED HELL. You do not want to submit your ideas, your opinions, your plots, your stories, your biographies or *anything* on the main server forums. Luckily enough, there's a link to other green pastures where you will not be judged and humiliated publically.

The Laurelin Archives

Now, you must be thinking 'but Master Troll! How can I believe a word of which you say?' Why, I have proof! Yes! Proof indeed! Behold, for in the link below I shall bestow upon you a most hideous fiend.

Radhruin

This single man is the bane of your forum experience. The very photo above is not enough to describe just how nerdy he is. Radhruin, no not the servant of Bahrir's house- I mean, no! No! He's in my head. The lore! The lore, it is consuming me! NO! Oh wait, no, that was just indigestion. If there were ever a man who kissed Tolkien's wrinkled butt hole, it's this poop stain on the professor's underwear. In fact, I believe Tolkien even dubbed his three butt plugs after the name's of his holy disciples; Mae, Beleg, and Radhruin. (Mae's the smallest 'cuz she technically was a lore-breaker at one point. Silly lesbians.)

This nit-picky little bastard is, in fact, a troll himself. He preys upon the misinformed. The inaccurate. The incorrect. Compulsively, he will jab at your plots and ideas and characters until he formulates a whirlpool of lore debate that will inevitably suck your thread into a black hole, where it will pass into his realm and be devoured whole by his gaping pustular acne, forever to be lost in a sea of yellowish gunk and acidic residue. Whew... needed a breather there.

It has come to be known that this troll will always plague the Laurelin forums, never to relinquish his firm grip upon all that is Tolkien. It is a sad existence, coddling one's education in such a manner, groveling at a dead man's grave due to the lack of any creativity himself. Never will he participate in the community, never will he learn. Never will he move out of his mum's basement, 'cuz that's where his lab will always reside... where he will try and try with all of his might to find the correct DNA signature formerly known to rest upon the floppy schlong of the author himself...

...in hopes of becoming as brilliant as he. Tragic. Too tragic.

11/23/2010

Good day, readers. As of right now I sit within my darkened room, a litter of programs displayed upon the slick Windows 7 task bar at the bottom of my screen, my desktop cluttered with notes, and boredom wreaking havoc upon my mind. Today was mostly uneventful minus the rude wake-up call by my uncle, but nonetheless I have come to the (probably horrible) idea of creating myself a blog to document my day-to-day life as none other than an MMO gamer. In my case, it is a rather strange arrangement I have here. Being bred and raised as an American, rather than roaming the lands of Middle-earth in my natural habitat, I instead stand upon the European roleplayer server of [EN-RP] Laurelin.

I'm logged on as we speak, actually. In fact, I'm watching one of these strange 'roleplays' this very moment. What is role-playing, you might ask? Why, it is where people take the time out of their lives to sit down in front of a computer and immerse themselves in a world much different than their own. Whether it be futuristic or medieval, role-playing is a great way to practice your writing skills instead of running about dressed in your mother's shower robe shouting 'lightning!' at unsuspecting passerby. That's something called LARP. We might get into that one day, but for now... let us see what is currently happening within Middle-earth.

Oh. A not too uncommon occurance. Man stands in Prancing Pony, man waits for woman. Man does elaborate mating dance to attract woman. Man and woman elope and lay upon one another breathing very heavily. Any of you reading this, if you were expecting some sort of erotic fan fiction between Gimli and oh, I don't know, Gollum... for sick fuckers out there, the exit is just down the corridor on your right.

Now, my readers. First and foremost, it is advisable that you avoid certain 'players' upon Laurelin. Should you need a prime example of one of these degenerates of our communal society, I just so happen to have a picture that will no doubt give you a wonderful idea of what to elude on this slaughter-house of Tolkien's epic, The Lord of the Rings.

Click if you dare.