"I'm looking for Chess Players!"

Posted on: June 22, 2006

It began as a dream; I suppose the same sort of dream that always comes to me. At least at first. Then it forks rapidly, careening off a sheer cliff before nestling down on some celestial equivalent to a pillow. By this time, I'm deep asleep—

and in this dream, I was typing on a computer. Text chat, like IRC. Just words. I'd entered a room—a channel, numbered #2086 (this number keeps recurring in my head). There was one other occupant present, and suitably, they were @Operator.

I began to type. Words across the screen, streaming lines as fast as I could.

Words came back. Faster than my own. And each step of the way, I felt an eerie chill—no, it wasn't quite a chill, but the same arching tension you feel when you get hot chocolate in the middle of the summer, and you like hot chocolate, but it's not the right season.

Nevertheless, I began to pick up on expressions, mannerisms, and emoticons. Stylings that were so uniquely natural to me, that by the time I'd figured out, I saw this:

you know


And without having to turn my head away from the screen, I felt a hand on my shoulder, and knew it was me me. A future me, but myself, nonetheless. I—the future me, said:

"I'm looking for Chess Players!"

I didn't know how to respond. The future me wasn't so much reading my mind, as simply treading through tracks she—myself—had already been through. So just like after you hear a joke, you know how the punchline's going to ring—and if you've heard the same damn joke a dozen times, that ring isn't going to be the solid, sonorous wang! of a gong, but something insipid and as uneventful as dust falls on furniture.

I didn't have to respond, but in that uncomfortable silence, the future me clenching the present me's shoulder, squeezing and relaxing as if it were some Chinese stress ball, my mind raced to associate what I knew about "Chess Players". My first thought?

Rza from Wu-Tang Clan plays chess.

It was as banal and pronounced as that to me.

The future me chortled heartily, slapped me on the back with a wide open palm, and asked:

"Are you a Chess Player, or are you the pieces?"

and with a grin which I didn't see but that I definitely felt, future-me whipped out a chessboard—generic inversed squared in that 8×8 alternating confirmation—and showed me said pieces. Well, they really didn't look like pieces at all. I saw some fish eyeballs, a stalk of celery with peanut butter and a raisin (I think), the removed arm of a Barbie doll, the eye of a needle, cracker crumbs, a lump of plasticine sculpted into a makeshift king (I think), and other odd, if mostly domestic, objects.

It didn't look very attractive, or unusual (from my own previous experiences). But I noticed that as future-me tiled the board, kind of like a prospector panning for gold and the almost audible glint ringing out at the right angles, giving all its love and praise to the sun, I saw an arc—like a rainbow, rather spectrumy—quickly jag by, and intersect the chessboard. I reached my hand under the board, almost as if I was searching for worn bits of stuck gum as I did as a kid—and instead felt a mossy (sickeningly so?) wet texture, smooth at times yet antithetical to the satin it aspired to be.

And when I looked at the top, each and every single "chess piece"… was golden.

Before I even began thinking of how to reply, future-me then went:

"Who else?"

And that's where the dream ended.

So today, June 21, 2006, led by another vision to commit acts in the "real world" as manifested through my Second Life, I'm on a quest, looking for "Chess Players". Wait—even without the literal meaning, strike the air quotes—Chess Players. I've seen some of them already—I just didn't realize it.

I take a breath, and dive…

Angel Fluffy's a Chess Player. He didn't just trawl through nearly 1500 votes in the Feature Voting Tool, he categorized and commented many of them. I have no criteria what comprises a Chess Player—yet!—but rippleshock tells me he's one. That's what I'll go with. You know how some people are so obsessed with something it's scary, and then they turn their obsession around and reap great rewards (define as you will) from it while benefiting others in the process, hoping they'll do the same? Not to be vague, I'm speaking about myself in some capacity. And yes, I'm saying Angel's obsessed—in the best of ways. I admire this, . Unfortunately, I have no picture of him on file; but that can be remedied easily, as my camera's always ready to record. ;)

Iris Ophelia's a Chess Player. She handles emoticons like a master sushi chef chops up fish. Normally, such usage of emoticons could be annoying—again, drawing from my personal experiences of what people have told me, since I relate—but she cuts through the fashion world within Second Life at orthogonal angles (I'll use that a lot), finding jewels. She in herself, is a gem. And she gave me great personal assistance the other day in finding 1920s-themed clothing and accessories. She nailed them down one after another. No surprise she's writing for the wonderful Linden Lifestyles with colorfully punchy phrases with the verbal equivalent to male peacock tails.

 And as we all know, or if we don't, we should, Tateru Nino's a chess player. I'm a Childe of Chaos, and she's a Childe of Order. That connection is stronger inferred than many are explicitly described. She's been the master (mistress?) overseer of the Second Life 3rd Birthday, which has honestly been all about Resident self-organization. Seen the heart and the rose? That means her. She's pretty much the personification of the calm-in-the-storm within the Hallucinogen track "Shamanix", including the melodic gating that comes in at 7:31 minutes in. If you could float in salt water without the salt, that'd be the work of Tat. And Tat doesn't get enough expressed recognition for the good she does. Not just with this, but for helping so many volunteers realize the good in themselves, and forwarding the foundation. So I'm saying this here now: from the bottom to the top of my heart, thank you Tat!

Second Life's 3rd Birthday officially kicked off today, and there's more fun to come. Wanna come? You're invited! Killer graphic design originally by Tateru Nino and Mera Pixel and modded by Cornelius Linden.

I've been able to get more inworld time today than my lack (thirst needs to be quenched) in previous days, and I've been wanting to thank and each and every Resi who made this possible personally. Being inworld, avatar-to-avatar, and expressing gratitude. It really is a miracle how things turned out! I've got more to write, so I'll just about end this here with some pretty pictures from the celebration:


 


Memories captured by: Arahan Claveau, Cory Edo, Tao Takashi, and me.

One more thing: describing a game's rules, or how the rules should be, is not playing the game.

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