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Re: [GZG] Epic Carrying Case

From: Mike Stanczyk <stanczyk@p...>
Date: Wed, 2 Apr 2008 12:28:51 -0600 (MDT)
Subject: Re: [GZG] Epic Carrying Case

On Wed, 2 Apr 2008, Doug Evans wrote:

> Actually, I was thinking, with proper utilization of space, and strict
> time schedules, you could do without the hotel as well...
> What gamer hasn't had the dream of converting a coach bus to a
personal con
> van?

In rememberance of Douglas Adams:

You've never heard of The Con?

The longest and most destructive con held is now into its
fourth generation, and still no one shows any signs of leaving.
Somebody did once look at his watch, but that was eleven years
ago, and there has been no follow-up.

The mess is extraordinary, and has to be seen to be believed, but
if you don't have any particular need to believe it, then don't
go and look, because you won't enjoy it.

One of the problems, and it's one which is obviously going to get
worse, is that all the people at the con are either the
children or the grandchildren or the great-grandchildren of the
people who wouldn't leave in the first place, and because of all
the business about selective breeding and regressive genes and so
on, it means that all the people now at the party are either
absolutely fanatical con-goers, or gibbering idiots, or, more
and more frequently, both.

Either way, it means that, genetically speaking, each succeeding
generation is now less likely to leave than the preceding one.

So other factors come into operation, like when the events are 
going to run out.

Now, because of certain things which have happened which seemed
like a good idea at the time (and one of the problems with a
con which never stops is that all the things which only seem
like a good idea at con continue to seem like good ideas),
that point seems still to be a long way off.

One of the things which seemed like a good idea at the time was
that the con should fly - not in the normal sense that cons
are meant to fly, but literally.

One night, long ago, a band of drunken astro-engineers of the
first generation clambered round the building digging this,
fixing that, banging very hard on the other and when the sun rose
the following morning, it was startled to find itself shining on
a building full of happy gamers which was now floating
like a young and uncertain bird over the treetops.

Not only that, but the flying con had also managed to arm
itself rather heavily. If they were going to get involved in any
petty arguments with game merchants, they wanted to make sure
they had might on their side.

The transition from full-time convention to part-time raiding
party came with ease, and did much to add that extra bit of zest
and swing to the whole affair which was badly needed at this
point because of the enormous number of times that the attendiees had
already played all the games it knew over the years.

They looted, they raided, they held whole cities for ransom for
fresh supplies of dice, minatures, games and wine and spirits,
which would now get piped aboard from floating tankers.

The problem of when the games are going to run out is, however,
going to have to be faced one day.

The planet over which they are floating is no longer the planet
it was when they first started floating over it.

It is in bad shape.

The convention had attacked and raided an awful lot of it, and no one
has ever succeeded in hitting it back because of the erratic and
unpredictable way in which it lurches round the sky.

It is one hell of a con.


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