01 May 2007

Make a blah day better with nostalgia


I guess I should begin by apologizing for a long absence from this thing called "blogging." (Yeah, I still have trouble calling it blogging. Is it supposed to be capitalized? If it is, I'm not going to do it. You can't make me.) You know, apologies to all three people that read my blog. Who have all probably stopped checking since it's been a month since I've posted something new. Unless they want to see that funny picture of an angry man. I can easily see that being the case.

Anyway. We've gathered here today to discuss a little game we call "The Oregon Trail." We all know it, love it and miss it. If you don't know it, you're way too old to be “innocently” reading my blog. Creepster, go away. And stop telling me you like the sound of my voice on my voice mail.

Moving on. A while back, Dana and I started chatting about "The Oregon Trail" - the game we'd get to play at school for thirty minutes during computer lab time on some old school Apple computers. The graphics were high-quality at the time - please see Exhibit A... the picture I have included in the blog. The story line was ever-so-intriguing and the sense of mystery thrilling. I distinctly remember the disappointment that sunk my 12-year-old soul to the dingy library floor at Landon Middle School when computer lab time was deemed over but I hadn't yet finished my game of "The Oregon Trail." What if no one in my wagon had died yet? The uncertainty of my family's life, and almost inevitable death of some its members, was enough to keep my mind wandering during my long division lesson.

Well, I've been given another chance at "The Oregon Trail." That's right, folks. After several Google searches, many failed attempts of clicking on broken links (followed by slightly audible whimpers from yours truly) and a couple broken promises from non-existent downloads, I have found it. A download for VML Down Time pleasure (no, not porn), "The Oregon Trail" has a new home. On my geriatric IBM ThinkPad, provided by VML. By the way, my computer’s name is Gerald... if any of you were curious.

As soon as the download was complete, I peeked around Ashley’s cube to gain Dana’s attention. Immediately, everyone thought I was up to no good. Little did they know that I had just, minutes ago, discovered the greatest thing ever to grace the world of computer games. Even better than "Doom" or "Wolfenstein." Dana’s gasp of delight is exactly the reaction I was hoping for. Double click. We play!

So, if I may, I’d like to provide you all (three… including Dana) with a synopsis of “The Oregon Trail” game we played at 2:30 p.m. during our seemingly boring work day. I’ve skipped a few landmarks, forgotten a few hunting trips, omitted some conversations with fellow Oregon Trail travelers and even added some scenario assumptions, but you should get the general idea. Especially since the following is an almost endless description. Whatever, I enjoyed transcribing it. And we’re off…

It all started on May 1, 1848. I, Molly, was the leader of a wagon. A carpenter from Ohio, my estrogen-dominant family consisted of VML team members Ashley, Leah, Laura and Dana. Betsy, my sincere apologies that you were left out of this trip. Reason for this, besides the obvious family capacity restrictions, was that you were gone in Paris. As my boy JT would say… cry me a river! Anyway, as soon as you read the outcome of the game, you’ll be glad you were left in Independence, MO.

After following the General Store owner’s (Matt) advice, I stocked up on clothing, food, oxen and wagon parts. And the steady decline of my family’s existence begins. The first mishap of the trip occurred when Dana got lost for two days. We determined that she wandered off to pet fuzzy bunnies and squirrels. (By the way, Dana, since you were the first person to set us back on the journey, I’m blaming all future incidents on you. How do you live with yourself?) Not long after we found Dana’s bunny-hugging butt, Ashley suffered from a snakebite. Not sure what she was doing near a snake, but I’ll verbally berate her for it later.

We chatted with some locals at Chimney Rock, who said – in a voice made real by Dana – “that Chimney Rock is awfully sublime.” What does that even mean? Despite the run-ins with animals, things are going well. We even found three sets of clothing in an abandoned wagon! Entertainment was provided by the only tombstone we got to see on the quest, that read: “Here lies Voland. Hey hey hey! Come out and play!” Pretty creepy, especially because “Voland” reminds me an awful lot like “Voldemort” from Harry Potter. Oh the tangled, virtual webs we weave.

Dana and I continued our stellar “Oregon Trail” strategy, and changed our food rations from “Filling” to “Meager” - Lay off me! At least it wasn’t “Bare Bones.” This change, coupled with Dana’s dumb ass getting lost, is also what I blame for the eventual doom of my OT family. Yeah, that’s right, I totally acronymed Oregon Trail… and made up a new verb: acronymed. Also, since it was summer, I think we all needed to diet for the swimsuit season.

So we caulked some rivers safely (insert inappropriate joke here), but soon after, a thief came and stole seven sets of clothing from our wagon. Seven! There are five of us and we only had three sets of clothing. We’ve got some nudity going on here. (And I played this game in the 6th grade? Where were the parent protests that seem like imminent happenings today?) So we tried to buy some clothes from the next General Store we stumbled upon. This owner, the jerk, tripled his clothing price from the first store we shopped at! We bought a few sets, but only after seriously considering shooting said owner with the 100 bullets we had purchased and had not yet used. I digress…

After finding some wild fruit, which was probably poisonous, we were given the news that Leah had dysentery. I’m pretty sure I’ve never known what dysentery even is. So I dictionary.com’d it. Dysentery: an infectious disease marked by inflammation and ulceration of the lower part of the bowels, with diarrhea that becomes mucous and hemorrhagic. Get this girl some freaking Pepto!

We spent the Fourth of July at South Pass. Not sure where that is, but that’s where we were, so I wanted to share. Also, Dana inquired if we even had Fourth of July back then. Yes, Dana, we did. At South Pass, we spoke to a Mormon traveler. When vocalizing the Mormon’s dialogue, Dana pretty much turned him into a Southern Baptist Reverend. But it was funny, so I accepted said interpretation.

Dana managed another screw-up and broke her arm. I’m not sure how she did it, but it may or may not have involved one of the oxen and a wagon axle. Sick and twisted, that girl is.

Somewhere along the way, we spoke to an Indian. He was angry at the “white man.” I’m not making this text up, people. Pretty sure this game would have been banned and destroyed in the lovely year of 2007.

So we got lost on the trail for several days shortly before there was a fire on our wagon, during which we lost our spare wheels. I bet it was the angry Indian who set the fire.

With the looming heat upon us, we reached Soda Springs. Upon our “looking around”, we realized it was an 1848-style Nudey Retreat, complete with lady bonnets. After we left Soda Springs, Leah got a fever. Ashley got some measles, and we spoke with a local who said “Missus”, a word that Dana pronounced “Mishus” during her vocal interpretation.

Welp, we had some gnarly water, and poor Ashley died. Even though it didn’t allow us to write a “real” gravestone, this is what it would have said: “Here lies Ashley. Sorry you had to go first. What what, in the butt.”

The dying thing apparently utilizes a domino effect, because Leah left the Oregon Trail mortal world right after Ashley. They didn’t give us a reason, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she pooped herself to her grave. So here’s what her gravestone would have said: “Here lies Leah. Dysentery didn’t do ya good. What what, in the butt.”

We mourned for a minute in real-time, probably a day or two in Oregon Trail time, and Laura got lost for five days. Five freaking days?! Laura, you hussy. You snuck off with Angry Indian, didn’t you? Just you wait…

So there’s a water shortage, Laura got the measles, and while we were resting, she died. What a pansy! I told you that rendezvous with Angry Indian would come back to haunt you! Well here’s what her gravestone would have said: “Here lies Laura. Shouldn’t have f’ed with at Indian. What what, in the butt.”

There was some inadequate grass, but instead of the oxen dying, Dana died. Of cholera. Here’s another Oregon Trail disease I knew nothing about. Dictionary.com to the rescue. Cholera: an acute intestinal infection caused by ingestion of contaminated water or food. Where’s the Imodium when you need it? In 1969, that’s where. So here’s Dana’s gravestone: “Here lies Dana. There’s a reason I love food so much. I died. What what, in the butt.”

Now I’m the lone soldier on this 19th century journey. It ends abruptly when I get a fever, experience the inadequate grass supply and die. So here’s my gravestone: “Here lies Molly. Once a team, always a team. Here lies my lovely lady lumps. Check me out.”

I can’t wait to play again. Don’t worry. I won’t blog about it.