GM Support Not AvailableIt came through the wires like a blessing from the gods. As soon as the e-mail went out, our entire office went electric with excitement.
They were temporarily shutting down the GM call system.
Can I get an amen?
Apparently, they were making an "adjustment" to the GM petition system.
By adjustment, I assume they mean fixing the GM call system. I assume that because "someone" may have been playing near the GM server with an electromagnet.
If anyone asks, I was with you.
Either way, they were shutting down the system that has eroded my faith in human beings.
That's good news.
At first, I was picturing hour upon hour of uninterrupted bliss. No GM calls. No whiners.
It was beautiful.
Then, reading further down the e-mail, I found out it was only scheduled for an hour.
Still, an hour not having to deal with the mouth-breathing, drooling n00b masses of Vana'diel is well worth it.
I would have to make the most of this hour.
ie. I would have to find out exactly how drunk one can get in a short sixty minutes.
I could tell from the looks on the faces of my fellow GMs that they had similar plans. Each of them had a mischievous glint in his/her eye.
Bad things were to come.
This would be the party to end all parties. Anarchy would reign and the powers that be would be overthrown. Then, from the ashes, a new kingdom would be born.
Does Dave-Enix sound a little too conceited?
Okay, perhaps I'm exaggerating, but given the history of our update/maintenance parties, it was obvious that fun would be had.
As the minutes ticked closer to shutdown, I could barely contain my excitement.
Then, just as the time came, our supervisor walked in.
Supervisor>> Okay, people. The GM call system is down.
A cry rang out from the huddled masses.
I hate that word.
You hear something great, something fantastic, and then they have to go and say but.
They might as well just say "Hey, you know that good thing we just said? Yeah, we're totally going to shit all over that. Also, we just shot your dog."
[GM]Dave>> Oh god.
Supervisor>> But we've come up with something for you to do.
Come up with, he said.
Come up with.
As if they were doing us some sort of favor.
I mean, isn't that freaking ridiculous? They expect us to do work just because they're paying us.
That's just wrong.
Then came the weird part. A door opened behind the supervisor and they wheeled in a mail cart filled with folders. Then they started handing stacks of folders to each GM.
No good could come from this.
[GM]Dave>> What are these?
Supervisor>> These are hardcopies of GM logs.
Supervisor>> We'd like you to review them.
[GM]Dave>> What's a hardcopy?
Supervisor>> They're printed. On paper.
[GM]Dave>> I remember paper.
Supervisor>> We need you to review the logs for errors.
[GM]Dave>> That's not good for me.
Supervisor>> Well, we need you to do something.
Supervisor>> You can't just sit here for an hour.
[GM]Dave>> Woah, woah. Don't be so hasty.
[GM]Dave>> Maybe we should try that "sitting around" idea.
[GM]Dave>> It could work.
Supervisor>> I don't think so.
[GM]Dave>> We never do what I want to do.
[GM]Dave>> Like my Jeans Friday idea.
[GM]Dave>> You wouldn't even give it a chance.
Supervisor>> You suggested we not wear shirts.
[GM]Dave>> It's Jeans Friday.
[GM]Dave>> Not Shirt and Jeans Friday.
Supervisor>> Don't you think that's inappropriate?
[GM]Dave>> And it leads nicely into my next idea.
Supervisor>> I'm almost afraid to ask.
[GM]Dave>> No Pants Saturdays.
Supervisor>> Just review the reports.
[GM]Dave>> Wait... I can't get this folder open.
Supervisor>> What's wrong?
[GM]Dave>> I'm not sure.
[GM]Dave>> I'm double-clicking the cover...
[GM]Dave>> But it won't open.
I literally sat there for a minute double-clicking my finger on the cover of a paper folder.
I thought his head was going to explode.
With an almost broken look in his eye, he turned and walked away.
And with that, my dream of another GM drinking party was destroyed.
Now, I'm stuck drinking at my desk.