You catch yourself shivering in fear while out looking at the moon.
You must be inside by nine o’clock, or you start feeling like you want
to murder the person next to you on the bus.
You have to listen to “Waterloo” at least once a day in order to get anything accomplished.
You think that anyone you encounter acting like a jerk is under the influence of Bane.
You find yourself planning what your character is going to do for the next five years,
instead of what YOU are going to do for the weekend.
You wake up in the middle of the night from dreams about your character, and for a
moment, Ataniel seems more real than your bedroom does.
You wander aimlessly around the web page in your spare time, hoping that something
new has been put there in the last five minutes.
Someone is playing "Eve of Destruction" out the windows of their otherwise bad-ass black
car, and you have to fight not to call out to him "No! No! EVERYTHING is okay!"
You can't sleep for wondering whose crotch is in ComboMan.
You lie and claim to love ice cream, though in fact you do not.
You fear that some of the lamest people you know may start making sacrifices to you.
You panic when Jonah doesn't respond to your mental messages.
You angrily wonder where the people who bring you fresh glasses are.
Attempting a difficult task, you start to ululate.
You teach your students the word "ululate" instead of anything they could ever possibly use.
You just like to SAY "ululate." Ululate! Ululate! Ululate!
There's a woman at work whose name sounds a lot like one of your characters' names, and
when people call her, you keep turning around.
You are in a small classroom without air conditioning with sixteen sweaty students, and
rather than killing anyone, you thank your lucky stars that there aren't also dead gods and
gagged prisoners in there, too.
While discussing Timothy McVeigh's death sentence, you have to think hard about what to
say in place of "Well, he may not have been FAIRY-NAILING wacko, but..."
You have to go from Pittsburgh to Tucson, and you start to call Jeff to come pick you up with the Staff.
You keep having to erase your character's name from the "Author" field in your Storyboard posts.
You find yourself checking the storyboard every five minutes for new entries.... at 3 in the morning.
You have completely replaced the unwieldy "Earthling" with "Ansalian". If aliens ever land and you're the
one they talk to, the rest of the planet is going to be severely annoyed with you.
Ari asks you over for dinner. You don't drink the Diet Coke until you see her drink from it first.
Dave: Sheesh, it's muggy out. Laura: Yeah. Look at Bane. It's like pink. Dave: What? Laura: The moon. The moon is pink. Dave: Oh yeah. It's all this haze.
You see that your file folder at work is made by 'Newell Office Products', and you can't help thinking that even
your paperwork is out to get you.
Kris: You should send e-mail to Eric. He knows about bulletin boards and stuff like that. Laura: Dear Eric, I'm looking for a bulletin board or listserver that will sort and track posted messages. In return, I
will cede the state of New Jersey to the Cynystran Empire, and-- Kris: Ack! No! The other Eric!
You are unsurprised to discover that your cat's Valium is made by a company called Zenith.
You refuse to accept a backrub from someone until they barricade the goddamn door.
You're seriously thinking about laying down $300 for reflective
contacts for the ATYR. Even though you can't stand putting drops in your eyes.
You type "br" at the end of every line
br while transposing someone's notes.
You sneak into the record album section of the library and listen to "Waterloo" in the listening booth. You
leave feeling refreshed and ready to combat evil.
You see nothing wrong with making a four-and-a-half-hour compilation of music about your character's life.
You panic when you lose e-mail contact for two days with someone you
previously hadn't really spoken to in five years. Your first thought,
before calling your ISP, is to mentally run through enemies who might
be behind it.
You call your sister and ask her who her favorite Sunfighter is. She says
Timrin. You wonder what else she's been lying to you about.
Your day is not satisfactory until you get email from someone regarding
events on the storyboard.
This logout quote freaks you out:
Necessity has no law.
Your characters are on a first name (or worse, terms of endearment!)
basis with gods, Deathless, arch-villains, and other powerful entities.
Jeff complains about the weird cults in Southern California. You say
"Yeah, I bet they sacrifice dying people."
Your only reaction to the ungodly amount of Disney "Hercules" images in the movie store
is the startled thought that the comparitive proportions of hero and heroine might actually be
accurate... for Khyrisse and Ebreth.
You walk home by way of the McDonald's to see what Kris is talking about.
Your bitchiest female characters are among your proudest accomplishments.
(Admit it, Doug!)
Your secondary weapon in the computer game "Daggerfall" is a Mithril
Dagger, even though you've found a short sword that does more damage.
Somebody on an RPG newsgroup asks about a game called Wyvern: "Does
anyone like Wyvern?" You yell out "No!"
The fact that one of your PC's is working to disrupt the romantic success
of another is causing you internal strife.
Having people assume your character is a fool is MORE upsetting than having
people assume YOU'RE a fool-- because YOU don't have any ulterior motives and
secret plans to worry about, and could tell them off! (*exasperated grin*)
A car cuts you off. Its license plate starts with BFH. You yell "You sure are!"
You are positively forced to induct a fellow player into the Bitches From Hell
for how well she plays your character's ex-husband.
You're antsy all afternoon because the storyboard's down.
You wish you could set up your pager to beep you when there's a new
Storyboard post, so you wouldn't have to keep logging in and checking.
You ask your husband what this would entail. He says "Why don't you
just stick a modem cable in your wrist intravenously?" You consider it.
You swear that no matter how much grief it causes your character to live in a
constant state of confusion, she will never, ever know exactly what she has to do...
because then she'd be a bad guy.
You really wish you had Schneider's Rubber Chicken of Cantrips,
cause it'd be nice to subject a few coworkers to its powers.
You grumble about having to use primitive communications methods
like e-mail-- when the hell are they gonna get a mindnet up and
All of your friends know what "Ride the Wild Zerthimon" means.
You go to the University of Arizona computer lab and hack into their
system... to put some comic-relief posts up on the storyboard.
You have deliberately humanized at least one evil character and now
hopelessly like him or her.
You have deliberately humanized at least one evil character for the
sole purpose of upsetting the players of their hero opponents (DOUG!)
You are seriously contemplating picking up a portable computer, just so you
can keep up to date on the storyboard.
You go out to dinner with your spouse and spend it in a debate over the comparative
merits and usages of the phrases "going postal" vs. "going fairy-nailing wacko",
hopelessly bewildering your waiter.
Real-life injuries make you think about gaming injuries OR
philosophize about Hell. Sheesh! Where are our priorities?
You are annoyed by the fact that you don't know what the
proper spelling is for "kiljhac".
Your husband, faced with a complex statistical problem, asks "Who do we
know who could help us with this?" For three seconds you actually
contemplate e-mailing Doug.