'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the net,
Not an alien was stirring, at Cosmic just yet.
The browsers were cued on computers with care;
In hopes that an email soon would be there.The players were nestled all snug in their beds
While visions of game play danced in their heads.
And we at our keyboards 'bout ready to snap;
Been working long hours, keeled over to nap.When down in the disc drive there arose such a clatter
I spun round in my chair to see what was the matter.
Away to the hard drive I flew to check FLASH;
Tore open the guts much fearing a crash.The screen with the driver became all aglow,
Gave a luster of midday to flash objects below,
When then as my tiring eyes came a glower,
I saw miniature aliens and each with a power,With a very bold player so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment I just had to click.
More rapid than saucers his aliens they came.
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:Now
Macron! now
Empath! now
Zombie! and
Warrior!
On
Virus, on
Oracle, on
Pacifist and
Sorcerer!
To the top of the planet, to the top of the game;
Now dash away dash away, bring me my fame.As dry notes before the office fan fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up on the internet the aliens they flew,
With a game full of fun and the bold player too.And then in a twinkle, I realized my goof,
By enhancing the drawing of each little proof.
As I drew back my head and was turning around,
Through the portal bold player came with a bound.He was dressed all in sweats, a right portly old bloke
And his clothes were all tarnished with pizza and Coke.
A bundle of powers he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a coder, he took me aback.His eyes how they squinted! His dimples how merry!
His cheeks were quite sallow, his nose like a cherry.
His droll little mouth made him look wide awake,And the beard on his chin was right flecked with cake.The stump of a pipe he held tight in his fist,
And the smoke, it encircled us both, like in Myst.
He had a broad face and a giant round bellyThat shook, when he laughed as though full from the deli.He was chubby and plump, and came forth quite near;
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of my fear.A wink of his eye, and a twist of his head,Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;He spoke not a word, but went right to the game,And filled all the planets frame after frame.And laying a finger aside of his nose,And giving a nod up through the portal he rose.He sprang to the ether, to his pals gave a whistleho,And away they all flew like an unguided mistletoe.But I heard him exclaim as he faded to blackHappy Holidays to all, you can bet I'll be back.(received via mysterious email from Peter Olotka)
So long, ridiculous Mayfair timing icons. You had a good run, and you certainly have your fans, but Fantasy Flight's 50-times-better timing strip is pretty much putting an end to your alleged usefulness.
