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The Aging Gamer
An anonymous reader writes "There is a short article at the Rochester Democrat and Chronicle about the surprising statistic that a large potion of computer gamers are over 35. This actually makes sense, since many of them began gaming in the 70's. A short and semi-interesting read."
fp
where is everybody?
First post! heh!
Blah!
It was just like yesterday, hopefully it won't be limited to majority of it on Windows where people like Steve Ballmer can gloat or scream like a little girl(see below).
dear heavenly father
thank you for this troll
amen
popewax
Large "POTION"? That's nasty. And a spell check wouldn't pick that up.
Hey, that was not off topic. It was a legitimate comment that also happened to say "first post".
He also misspelled "surprising", and you used "your" and "you're" incorrectly.
note to moderators: There is no "meta-offtopic" moderation... so the best you can do to this post is to ignore it
the most mysterious thing you'll see today
I believe you're the troll here. Either that or your reading comprehension skills rival that of a stone.
3y3 0wnz j00z b1zn1tchz0rs!
I'm with you man. Time will tell if I get to metamoderate. Man there are gonna be some people losing karma left an right.
No one, as far as I can remember, has posted a comment on how older gamers have trouble remembering things.
Quick, call the spelling police! They will be very interested to hear about a message board spelling infraction. This guy is gonna do some hard time for sure!
- Toby
Comment removed based on user account deletion
"Imperialists by necessity?Steven den Beste wrote a long, intelligent and insightful essay on who the enemy is. I think he is right to see Afghanistan, Iraq, and the suppression of Al-Qaeda as phases of longer, wider war ? a clash of civilizations driven by the failure of Islamic/Arab culture (though I would stress the problem of the Islamic commandment to jihad more than he does). I think he is also right to say that our long-term objective must be to break, crush and eventually destroy this culture, because we can't live on the same planet with people who both carry those memes and have access to weapons of mass destruction. They will hate us and seek to destroy us not for what we've done but for what we are. " http://armedndangerous.blogspot.com/
Hungry. He was so hungry. It had been a very busy day; he'd forgotten to eat. He was still a growing boy, as Aunt Beru often said.
That stabbed deep. So many people he loved had died in the last two days, no wonder he hadn't felt like eating. Now, the excitement died down, and only the prospect of a forty hour space trip ahead, he was ravenous.
Tevis got up from the bunk and padded barefoot through the Falcon's ring corridor in search of the foodsynth. He found it, logically enough, in the forward compartment. But he hadn't expected to find the pilot tinkering with it.
"Does anything work on this junkheap?" Tevis complained.
Solo scooted out from under the counter where he had the synth down to its component parts. He cursed roundly in three languages as he bumped his head. "Anything work on you, kid, beside the smart mouth?"
"My stomach. I'm starved and the galley's in pieces!"
"Zapper still works. There's some flash-heat stuff in the locker behind you. Plenty of survival rations in this locker." Solo thumped the one next to his head. "Now, I'm gonna see if I can get this bastard working before Chewie wants his morning kaf." He ducked back under the console. Virulent oaths and occasional banging came from the muffled work-space. Tevis watched a moment and then rifled the packs offlash-heat food.
"What language is this? I don't want something nasty."
"Pretty picky for someone who just went swimming in an
Imperial cesspool. It's Corellian."
"I don't read Corellian. How about some help?"
Solo cursed again, this time hitting a couple of languages Tevis knew, and aiming the curses at obnoxious farmboys who should be asleep. But he did slide out from under the console and pick out a couple pouches.
"Heat me one, too. I'm almost done."
Tevis matched the symbols for time on the bags to the symbols on the flash-heater. Shortly, two packets of stew were steaming and ready.
"Good number reading, kid. Taste this." The pilot held a cup to Tevis's mouth. Tevis sipped apprehensively.
"Good kaf."
"Hmm, musta fouled something up. Strong?"
"Kind of. I don't want to drink it because I want to go back to sleep after I eat."
"Okay." Solo punched something else up.
"Try this."
"Now that's good. What is it?"
"D'lar fruit juice. Chewie's favorite. Let's eat before that stew gets cold."
They carried their food to the small game table. Tevis ate carefully, trying not to burn his mouth. The stew was full of vegetables, with some sort of meat he couldn't identify.
"What is this?"
"Stew. Lergu meat, six kinds of vegetables and fungi, mavir grain and seasonings."
"Fungi?"
"This." Solo speared out a small tidbit and held it up. "Back home they call these 'tree ears.' They look kinda like ears when they're growin'. I think there's some leafhorns in here too."
Tevis, his first rampant hunger sated, leaned over and delicately took the morsel from the utensil with his teeth in a deliberately provocative move. He looked up through the fringe of bangs and let a very slow smile cross his face. Cammie had always thought it was sexy and the time he'd used it on Biggs was one of his better memories of Tatooine. Uncle Owen had grounded him for staying out all night, he'd walked with difficulty for a day but the silly grin on his bruised lips had been indelible for a week.
The interest radiating from the kid blindsided the big Corellian. How had he managed to fly in under all the radar was a mystery. "Never answered my question earlier, kid." The words came out rougher than he'd planned.
"Yes, I did. I said my stomach worked."
Where had this gotten out of control? Solo wondered. He was the one who was supposed to be cool and in charge, and here was this backwater farmboy seducing him. "Anything else?"
"Maybe. Finish your stew before it gets cold, or I'll do it for you."
Solo noticed Tevis's packet was totally empty. When had that happened? Now, a questing utensil had made its way across the table and was spearing a piece of kaid root from his packet. He watched the gravy-soaked tuber make a slow progress back across and almost moaned as Tevis's tongue curled around it to draw it into his mouth.
A piece of leafhorn fungi went next, caught between even, white teeth and worried off the utensil. A utensilful of gravy vanished between smiling lips. A cube of lergu got the same curled tongue treatment.
At the end of his limits, Han pushed the stew packet across the table. "Finish it." He turned quickly away as he rose, his walk unsteady as he headed to the cockpit.
"Don't you want to see what else works?" Tevis's voice followed him
and echoed in his ears.
Did he? That was the question. Solo suspected the wide-eyed innocent act was mostly just that, an act. But some of it was real. And he liked the kid, didn't want to hurt him. He thought hard.
The autopilot was doing fine. He stared at the grey hyperspace limbo for a minute and made his decision, hoping Tevis was still in the lounge.
He was, and Solo leaned nonchalantly on the padded edge of the
ring corridor. "Yeah," he finally said, a little thickly.
"Yeah, what?" Tevis asked, looking up from another package of stew.
"Yeah, I wanna see what else works."
Tevis lingered over the last bite, before getting up and walking to where the pilot waited for him. "I thought you might." He wrapped slim, strong arms around the bigger man's neck, pulling him down for a lengthy kiss. "The answer, of course, is everything."
"Kinda figured it was."
TEVIS and HAN fucked passionately into the stars with Chewy buttfucking them both with a 30lb 14" cock./strong