From: Greg Gallagher <ggallag@onshore.com>
To: Craig Brozefsky <craig@onshore.com>, "B. W. Fitzpatrick" <bwf@onshore.com>,
        Lee Burgess <lefty@onshore.com>, Stephen Shelly <stephen@onshore.com>
cc: Karl Fogel <kfogel@onshore.com>
Subject: The Tao in Quake
Date: Wed, 1 Jul 1998 10:30:47 -0500


(excerpts from a conversation on irc...)

Greg: I love seeing messages on my screen when I came in this morning: Death left the game with 45 frags .... redrum left
      the game with -1 frags.

lefty: heheh

Greg: When you think about it, isn't a negative frag the creation of 
      life? So isn't that saying that redrum gave birth?

lefty: Actually, a postive frag gives life too ... for without a good frag 
       there can be no rebirth

Greg: So really what you are saying is that when I take my rocket launcher 
      and launch a scud up your right nostril fragging you, I'm really 
      purifying your spirit and granting you a 'rebirth' of sorts and 
      that this is a good thing?

lefty: Certainly, even though the experience is highly disconcerting, it is 
       true that every rocket bears with it the flower of an pure, new, 
       innocent life

Greg: I must thank you for some of the answers to this soul-searching.  I 
      have almost felt guilty at times whenever I ran 3 million watts of 
      electricity through you  frying you to death but now I see that it is 
      just a natural part of life.

lefty: As is my incarnate need for revenge on your sorry ass.

Greg: And my need to give us both a pure spiritual and physical rebirth by baptizing us with water (and severl million
      watts of electricity) in order to later gather the Jansports.

lefty: I am blessed by your purity of intent, just as we will both be 
       blessed in the sacred holy fire of incendiary cremation and the 
       raised consciousness of multiple high-velocity piercings.

Greg: Truely, my intentions are pure when I take my nail gun and unload the 
      100 or so nails I have loaded into your skinny little ass as it is 
      running away in fear.  How could they not be?

lefty: Yet my intentions are purer and the kill as sweet as a virgin's 
       flower as I steal away in the shadows, bearing for you the humble 
       gift of my veangence, resplendant with the vitality of god-like 
       stamina and four-fold pain, delivered by simply being right behind 
       your petrified carcass when you least expect it.

(Back to Karl Fogel's home page.)