Improbable Island Message of the Day (MoTD)Quick reminder
Admin CavemanJoe 2018-03-11 05:51:53
Improbable Island's server runs on UTC, so if your country's clocks are going forward soon, remember that our clock does not. That means new Game Days will happen an hour earlier relative to your local time.
UTC is basically the same as Greenwich Mean Time, but we distinguish it from GMT because people living in the GMT timezone put their clocks backwards and forwards (for example, in England we'll be leaving Greenwich Mean Time and entering British Summer Time later in the month - so in the autumn and winter, Improbable Island's clock is set to the same time as it is in England, and in the spring and summer, it's an hour behind). American Islanders who are friends with the British and vice-versa, your friends' timezones will be another hour off until the last Sunday in March.
TL;DR; your clock probably changes this month, the Island's doesn't, so game days start earlier in relation to your local timezone. Change the batteries in your smoke alarms.
Last of the Decade Vaults
Admin CavemanJoe 2018-03-07 01:13:11
Hey folks, I wasn't around to take the Decade Vaults out of the Hunter's Lodge because I was in Kentucky, fixing pinball machines at the Louisville Arcade Expo. I just got back and told chat that I was about to take them out so it was last call time, and a couple of people asked if I could keep them available to buy for another couple of days so that they could afford one. I guess a lot of people get paid towards the start of the month after all, so rather than taking them out of the Lodge straight away, I made them a stock-limited item. There are 50 left for purchase as I write this, unless Tamar buys them all. They'll be gone for good this time next week or when they sell out, whichever happens first, so if you don't have one, but want one, get one quick.
Thank you to everyone who wrote to offer their condolences re: Leo. Your messages warmed my heart and made his passing easier to bear. Because we're a game with thirteen thousand players and this is how numbers work, several people emailed or Distracted me to say that they were also saying goodbye to their own pets that week. Spider Robinson said in his excellent series Callahan's Crosstime Saloon that shared joy is increased, and shared pain diminished, and I took that lesson to heart this week.
(also, for goodness' sake Spider on the off-chance you're reading this, update your website, it's been two years already, I dunno if you've noticed but the world could really use you right now)
There will be some new stuff coming in the next couple of weeks - I rearranged the ten-year-celebration schedule a wee bit 'cause some things changed for the better halfway-through my making them. Changing for the better usually means changing for the more complex and longer-taking, but those things are nearly done now so expect some neat stuff soon.
CMJ (who just noticed that his new keyboard doesn't have a tilde, and - GASP - doesn't have a grave accent either! How am I supposed to do colours on this thing?!)
EDIT: Ah, there it is
That was a month.
Admin CavemanJoe 2018-03-01 00:54:12
Thank you all dearly for being part of a wonderful celebration of ten years of Improbable Island!
During the land rush in the minutes following the Places expansion, MySQL queries peaked at over nine hundred per second. The Island hasn't seen that much action since we hit critical mass in StumbleUpon, back when StumbleUpon was a thing. The new server handled it pretty handily, with average pageload times only cresting a full second during the heaviest first minutes.
In the first couple of minutes, I received some error alert emails - there was a bug. It only existed for two minutes, but that was long enough for there to be consequences. When pounding in a Land Claim Stake, the system checks whether the map square already has its full quota of Places. It checks twice - once when you're browsing from the map page (to determine whether or not to show you the link to make a new Place), and again when you confirm that you want to put in the stake. The second check is there in case someone else puts down a stake in the same square between you being asked "Are you sure you want to stake here" and replying "Yes put in the damn stake." The second check was failing, which meant that it was briefly possible for two or more people to more-or-less simultaneously to go to a map square, see four Places, click to make a fifth, click again to confirm, and plant the stake.
Which is exactly what was happening, because I was in Player Chat going "ONE MINUTE TO GO GUYS, GET READY!"
This means there are now eight plots on both NewHome and the square in the dead centre of the lake in the middle of the Island. Since these erroneous extra Places don't seem to be mucking anything up, I'm content to let them stay - to their lucky owners, might I suggest a shrine to the goddess of race conditions?
In sadder news, much-loved Improbable Island Official Cat Leo's long and happy life came to a peaceful conclusion in my arms on the 25th of February. We don't know for sure how old he was, but the first vet we took him to thought he was around twelve, and that was almost a decade ago.
Leo was the local hard man of the cat underground. He weighed upwards of fifteen pounds, all of it muscle, and he had a head like a breezeblock and a heart of gold.
I was smoking when I first met Leo, as he was walking up the path in the garden of my previous house. Four kittens orbited him like tiny satellites, climbing over his back, batting at his paws, and being a general nuisance. He looked up at me and said "CLAU," which is unusual for a cat, and gave me a look that clearly said "Please cut off my testicles." I gave him a bowl of food, and he thanked me by saying "BRACK."
Leo was never a "Meow" sort of cat. Few cats can do consonants, and the ones that can tend to want to show off.
At the time, we were referring to Leo as "Uncledaddy," as we didn't know whether he was the kittens' uncle, father or both. The name Leo would come later, when he had sensed that I was planning on taking him to the vet for the aforementioned bollock-removal, and had had second thoughts and disappeared. There's nothing like shouting "Uncledaddy, uncledaddy, come here uncledaddy" into the dark Friday night of a high-murder-rate neighbourhood to inspire second thoughts about what to name your cat.
Leo used our back porch as his base of operations that spring and summer, as we found homes for his offspring. He was a distrustful, standoffish beast who had lived on garbage until recently, so as I smoked I inched slowly towards him over a period of weeks, trying to make him more comfortable with the big pink cats that make nongarbage food happen. One day I managed to touch him, and it was like a switch had suddenly flipped over in his head. Leo shivered against me as I stroked from his head down his back, his eyes went wide, and he said "BAP" and "B'GCOW" and rubbed himself all over me. The transformation from snarling beast to affectionate buddy was so immediate and dramatic that I could only conclude that nobody had petted this creature before.
He drooled copiously when happy, long strands of thick saliva that smelled like the Devil's arsehole. The vet said that we could have him sedated and have his teeth cleaned, but that it'd be a serious gamble, what with not knowing how old he was. They didn't seem to be causing him any pain or interfering with him eating so we were content to give him the special teeth-cleaning treats and try to avoid contact with the soup-like drool.
Leo had a habit of grabbing me by the leg of my jeans when I'd finished my cigarette and started to head back into the house. He'd sink his claws into the fabric and pull my leg backwards until I'd turn around and pet him some more. He continued this trick after the heat had reached its peak and I had changed into shorts. I didn't wear shorts very often that summer, because I didn't want to show off the puncture wounds.
We already had three cats in a house whose landlord allowed one, and Leo was as big as all of them put together, so when winter came around we made him a little outside house. The first attempt was a styrofoam beer cooler with a small hole cut in the side and a blanket. Putting it down on the back porch I immediately realised just how dramatically I'd misjudged Leo's size. He didn't so much sit in the cooler as wear it as a hat. We fashioned a second home for him out of an old plastic filing cabinet, which he just about managed to squeeze into.
Leo's gentle nature became apparent when I saw him sitting in his filing cabinet, happily watching the birds eat his food. Around this time, Stoop Cat showed up. I hardened my heart to Stoop Cat at first, because we were already at three indoor cats and one outdoor and at some point you've just got to say "Enough" before you turn into Those Cat People but you can't be cold to a cat forever - especially not when, during a summer thunderstorm, the cat huddles beneath your thigh, or buries its face in the crook of your elbow. Especially not when you see Stoop Cat and Leo curled together on the grass, lazily watching the leaves rustle in the breeze, their tails in each others' noses, or sitting butt-to-butt creating a heart shape. That's about when you decide that Stoop Cat is a silly name, and start calling him Stewart instead. You might tell yourself that you're only showing him affection because he's your proper cat's boyfriend, but then you find them cuddling in a yin-yang arrangement and you spend a few minutes doing The Stroke That Never Ends, your hand going from one cat's tail immediately to the other cat's head, round and round forever, as they purr and shine in the sun, the black cat soaking up the heat and showing off his rust patches, and you go "Right, these cats are a package deal."
So when we moved out of the shared house and went separate ways from our roommates, Emily and I took our indoor cat Harley with us, and we took Leo and Stewart too, into our new home, out of the cold for good.
Leo smelled like a well-used barn, and his massive weight pinned the blankets to our bed when he visited during the night. He would jump onto the bed, have me pet his small ears for twenty minutes or so, then considerately relocate to the laundry pile so that I could move and breathe.
His ears weren't actually small. They were normal sized. He just had an enormous head full of cement.
Years passed, happily.
Perhaps too many years.
When our daughter was born, we introduced her to Leo first. He gave her a sniff, rubbed his face against her, and said "BRP."
When we took Minerva from the bed, he'd curl up in the space she'd just vacated, and breathe her scent.
Minerva is nineteen months old, now. She walks and talks. Until last weekend, when we came back to the house, the first thing she'd do - before even having us take her coat off - was shout "Leeo-eo!" And until recently, he'd come.
It's hard to say goodbye to a cat, everyone knows that. Even when their spine knocks against your knuckles, even when their once majestic bodies are winding down and preparing for the end, as long as they're purring, as long as they can make it up onto the bed on the second try, you put it off. Even when the cat develops continence issues, even when they're deaf as a post, even when they no longer talk, you put it off, out of love, but there comes a time when the cat himself gives you the look and you nod and fight back tears and say "Okay mate" and he purrs louder than you've heard in months and you think when did his purr get so quiet and you make the call, the guy on the phone somehow understanding you because he does this all the time, and you make the cat some bacon and buy the nice tuna and take him outside for a smoke, it's unseasonably warm and he can't outrun you anymore and you haven't smoked in years but that's how you met after all, and you hear him say "arp" in such a quiet voice but it's a voice at least, one you haven't heard in a while, and you know that he's happy and you know the clock's ticking until the appointment but in these moments you see a reminder of who he used to be, and who he is now, and you know in your bones that even though you could stop these events with a simple phone call, it wouldn't be right to do so. You tell your daughter that we're saying goodbye to Leo, and to give him lots of extra cuddles, and you give her the bag of treats and she hands them to him one by one. At some point, you excuse yourself from your friend for a few minutes so that you can dig his grave under the big tree next to the vegetable patch while he's still alive. You expect this to feel macabre but the work is repetitive and the ground is hard going and it is physical work that calms you. You choose the biggest, heaviest and prettiest rock from the wall separating your property from your neighbour's. You get his shroud ready, have the cheque written out ahead of time, sequester Nerv with her grandmother, get all the ghoulish and surreal logistics out of the way. Then, all that's left to do is love him and wait.
When I went back inside, Leo was on the bed. Stewart seemed to know what was happening, and was curled up next to him, his nose in Leo's ear. I put my arm around them both, and ran my fingertips up around Leo's cheeks and ears, the way he likes.
I am tremendously grateful for the generosity and support that the players of Improbable Island provided this month, because it meant we could afford the services of a company called Lap of Love. A small, round-faced, kind and very quiet woman came to my house with a little red bag, and shepherding beloved animals into the next life is her full-time job. This is literally all she does, and all she has done, for quite some years. She was an hour late, because she had an appointment before ours, and that's understandable - I wouldn't have wanted her to rush the previous appointment. She didn't rush ours either.
I was expecting some sort of trauma. For him to twitch, or grimace, or convulsce, or die with a stupid look on his face and make me wonder "Is some part of him aware and suffering?"
Nothing of the sort happened. Leo became utterly relaxed at the first injection, resting his head heavily in the crook of my elbow. The second injection was gentle, administered in his forepaw. Leo no longer purred within audible frequencies at this late stage of his long, long life, but I could still feel the heavy rumble that told me he was content. Until it finally quieted, at which point the furry thing in my arms simply wasn't Leo, just something he'd left behind.
I was so moved by the grace and dignity and gentleness of this event that I told the kind woman that I'd be looking her up when it was my own time to go, and I was only partially joking.
Cat's eyes don't close when they die, or even when they're under heavy sedation. Their eye muscles work the opposite way round - they're normally-open, it takes energy to close them. Leo's eyes were open, but not widely so - they were open casually, the same way they were in life.
We laid the not-Leo on the floor so the other cats could see, so that Stewart wouldn't think that he'd ran away and abandoned him. Stewart sniffed him, saw as I did that this was not Leo, put his nose to the floor, and followed his scent trail back to the bedroom, to the bed, to the spot where Leo was before.
Knowing that Leo loved to sleep in our laundry pile, surrounded by things that smell of us, we started to wrap his body in one of the old T-shirts that I sleep in. Just like when we made his little house, we misjudged his size. We couldn't wrap him - his head poked out of the neck hole, like he was wearing it. So we dressed him in the T-shirt, wrapped him gently in a towel, took him outside, and buried him under the big tree next to the vegetable patch, placing the big heavy pretty rock on top to discourage local interest. One day I'd like to decorate the stone with a wee metal plate that says "LEO - 199?-2018. 'Clau. Brak.'"
Then I put Minerva to bed, ordered a pizza, had a stiff drink, watched The Full Monty, and went to bed.
I'm the first thing Minerva sees every morning. While I was changing her nappy she said "Lee-o-ee-o" and I said "We had to say goodbye to Leo, remember?" "Yeah," she says. "Bye," quietly.
A little later, lying on the bed, "Leo," she says, again.
I put my arm around her and ask her if she remembered when she couldn't walk, and could only crawl. "Yeah," she nods.
"Do you remember before you could crawl, and could only stay in one place and grab things?" Yeah.
"Do you remember before then, when you didn't have any words?" She says "Uh."
"Before then, do you remember being in mummy's tummy? And before that, you were in mummy and daddy at the same time. And before then," I told her, quietly, "goodness knows where you were. That's why you can't remember it. That's where Leo is now. That's why we had to say goodbye to him yesterday."
I think she understood, because she hasn't asked for Leo again. I look to the resilience of a nineteen-month-old toddler as inspiration.
The rules of succession for the Improbable Island Official Cat are the same as those for the British monarchy. Because the Island can never be without an Official Cat just as Britain can never be without a monarch, Stewart took the role instantly upon Leo's passing, regardless of ceremony or lack thereof.
The new Monthly Memento for March is the Official Cat Coronation Bowl. It works like the 2014 Prancing Spiderkitty Ashtray in that you can throw it at enemies, but it also gives you a warm fuzzies buff, and can very occasionally land a critical hit dealing ridiculous damage. You can use it once a day.
Please join me in welcoming Stewart to the new role of Improbable Island Official Cat, with all the rights and responsibilities inherent in the title.
Long may he reign.
Admin CavemanJoe 2018-02-22 05:30:26
Hey guys, the GPU fan in my development machine has ground its bearings to dust again, so I'm waiting on a new part. The awesome new Thursday Thing might have to wait til the weekend again, depending on how quick the new(ish) fan gets here. Just letting y'all know so you don't log in tomorrow and go "WHERE'S THE THING." Apologies for the delay.
Ten-year celebrations, week three!
Admin CavemanJoe 2018-02-17 20:04:06
Hey, folks! If you missed the previous MotD, the new stuff didn't go up this Thursday as originally planned because my basement flooded, so they're going up today instead.
This week, we're adding two new Outpost features! In New Pittsburgh, you'll find the Fresh Start Clinic, and in Cyber City 404, you'll find Helter Smelter. Give 'em a look, I think you'll like what you see.
The bank has also been given a fresh coat of paint - it was originally written prior to the 2008 financial crash, and we never bothered to update it to include suitable disdain towards bankers. I am pleased to announce that this unfortunate situation has finally been corrected.
You can also find an option in your Preferences to disable keyboard navigation, which could be useful for people on certain browsers who tab back and forth a lot while writing Place descriptions and suchlike.
See y'all next week, and have fun!
EDIT: The Fresh Start Clinic is temporarily offline while we work out some unexpected bugs, I'll have a closer look at this tonight.
EDIT EDIT: Fresh Start is back online, thanks for your patience.
Ten-year celebrations, week three - postponed
Admin CavemanJoe 2018-02-17 03:46:00
Hey guys - you might have noticed it's Friday and I didn't do anything awesome yesterday. I didn't forget about you! It's just that here in Pittsburgh we had some bizarrely heavy rain and my basement is pretty comprehensively fucked. Yesterday and today were focused on damage control, tomorrow we'll be frantically cleaning up to try to avoid mold growth, so you can expect the Shiny New Thing on Sunday evening.
Apologies for the delay, but we've got an 18-month-old in the house and really don't want her to end up breathing nasty mold. See y'all Sunday!
Thanks for your patience, and have fun!
Ten-year celebrations, week two
Admin CavemanJoe 2018-02-09 03:42:05
Hi, all! We've made some new display skins! A retro-themed one for mobile, and a horizontal one for desktops and laptops! The horizontal one puts your stats across the top, giving us ALL THIS SPACE to play with!
I've also increased the default font size, which has been creeping higher on the rest of the internet for the last ten years. You can adjust the text size with the fancy new text size buttons at the top of each page, and you can change your colour scheme from there too.
If you miss the old vertical layout, it's right where you left it, in your Preferences. It's been renamed to "Vertical" and I've added font size and colour-change buttons to it too. The very-very old "Classic" skin has been renamed to "Season One."
Crate Sniffers have been made more gooder - they now work for multiple rounds before becoming exhausted.
We've added Crate Locators, which give you directions to the nearest crate!
More awesome stuff coming next Thursday!
Improbable Island is ten years old!
Admin CavemanJoe 2018-02-01 06:10:09
It's true! I've been doing this thing for a whole decade! Well, more like eleven years if you count the time I was working on the Island before it went live. So, obviously we wanna celebrate.
I've taken some time off my day job to focus on making some neat new stuff for the Island, to go live in February. The plan is to release a couple nifty new things every week - the first week, from Thursday the 1st of February, we're gonna do a thing we haven't done in years, and another thing that I said we'd never, ever do.
The first thing is a ridiculous bundle deal the likes of which we've never come close to before. It's over six hundred bucks' worth of stuff. This bundle deal is called the Decade Vault, and it pisses all over every bundle we've done before - the Creator Bundle, the 30 Bundle, and even the Emily Bundle. Here's the description from the Lodge:
The Decade Vault commemorates ten years of Improbable Island, and it contains a LOT of stuff!
We've done a few bundle deals in the past - usually when we needed money for something, like a ridiculous tax bill or a sick cat or a broken-down van. They've always been really good deals - but we've never done one purely as a celebration of the Island and its wonderful community. That's why this bundle is not only the biggest and best and most preposterous we've ever attempted, it's the biggest and best and most preposterous by a long way. This bundle contains sixty-two thousand, one hundred and sixty-two Supporter Points' worth of items. If you were to buy the whole lot without using double donation days or World Community Grid points or other players donating on your behalf or any other method of getting Supporter Points, you'd be paying $621.62 for all the items in this bundle!
But of course that's not all. The bundle contains stuff that isn't even available in the Hunter's Lodge anymore, like Req Multipliers, Gargantuan Candy Bombs, and Health Insurance Certificates.
It also contains items that would take a ridiculous amount of time and Stamina to acquire - including two thousand Wood, two thousand Stone, a hundred of every Herb, five hundred delicious slices of Tasty Meat, and twenty of each and every Contraption and Contrivance!
"What the hell am I going to do with that much Tasty Meat," I hear you cry, "when it crawls away on a bed of maggots every time I go to sleep?"
I've got you covered. While previous bundle deals simply dumped all of their items into your inventory all at once, the Decade Vault is its own special place where you can take out only the items you need at the time. Don't have room in your backpack for two thousand lumps of wood? Move to where you need the wood to go, transfer as much wood as you need from the Decade Vault into your regular inventory, put it straight down, no muss no fuss.
The Decade Vault is designed to amplify all the things that make the Improbable Island community special. I've jammed it full of wood and stone and Builder's Brews to kindle your Places-building creativity. I've stuffed it with Contraptions and Contrivances and extra Programming Grids to encourage richness and variety in your Rooms and Pages. I've crammed in one of every reusable customization tool, and a thousand Quills - not only to assist your awesome character- and story-building, but also, since I know a lot of you already have all of the reusable customization tools, to amplify your already-astonishing altruism. Each Decade Vault is overflowing not only with stuff you need, but deliberately also with stuff you probably already have, stuff that makes wonderful gifts for new players and helps establish connections between curious rookies and kind veterans and provides warm fuzzies.
The Decade Vault contains:
40 x 2ml Smile Drops
40 x BANG Grenade
40 x WHOOMPH Grenade
40 x ZAP Grenade
40 x Improbability Bomb
40 x Monster Repellent Spray
40 x Large Medkit
40 x Ration Pack
40 x Energy Drink
40 x One-Shot Teleporter
40 x Crate Sniffer
40 x Nicotine Gum
From the Hunter's Lodge, past and present:
20 x Builder's Brews
1 x Fancy Picture Frame
4 x Gargantuan Candy Bomb
4 x Chronosphere
1 x Super Chronosphere
4 x Large box of cigarettes
4 x Hundred-pack of Cookies
1 x Deluxe Custom Armour Kit
1 x Deluxe Name Colourisation Kit
1 x Deluxe Collar
1 x Cunning Disguise Cunningly Disguised with a Cunning Disguise
1 x Super-Official Title Change Document
1 x Extra-Cunning Weapon Disguise
1 x Dimensional Shifter
4 x Health Insurance Certificate
2 x 75-pack of HyperTeleporters
1 x Monster Diary
8 x Blank Memory Chip
20 x Logic Grid
40 x Programming Column
40 x Programming Row
8 x x8 Requisition Multiplier
4 x Large Bag of Requisition Tokens
2 x Large bundle of Quills
1 x every Story Pass available
4 x Hundred-pack of Valentine's Day cookies
From the Scrapyard Market:
20 of each Contraption and Contrivance
From here and there:
100 x Scroteweed
100 x Twitchleaf
100 x Sneezeroot
100 x Steelseed
500 x Tasty Meat
2,000 x Wood
2,000 x Stone
1 x Housing Stake
The Decade Vault contains all the things that help you all make Improbable Island the sort of wonderful virtual world I'm proud and humbled to be a part of.
I hope you love it.
Island regular Jon Titania ran a survey and crunched some numbers and figured that I'd make the most money by selling the Decade Vault for $41. I trust in his algorithms but there's two sides to the equation here - the other side is how much fun we can have. I may well get more money flogging this thing for forty bucks, but the more people can afford this thing, the more fun we'll all have, so it's gonna be a bit less. We've never charged more than $30 for a thing before, and I'm not intending to start now, so 3,000 Supporter Points it is.
Previous bundle deals have been limited in stock - this one is limited on time instead, and will only be available during February.
So that's the first thing we're doing this week. The second thing is the new Monthly Memento.
People have been asking me for years if I'm going to put previous months' Monthly Mementos in the Lodge - and when I tried it, briefly, in 2015, donations dropped alarmingly. Without that immediate, get-it-before-it's-gone rarity factor, people figured "Ah, he'll make the old ones available one day, no need to get this one right now," and then never bought a Monthly Memento again. So I vowed I would never again make the old Monthly Mementos available.
Well, it's an extremely special occasion. The Monthly Memento for February 2018 is a single-use item that will give you one Monthly Memento that you don't already have. We're never, ever, EVER going to do this again (and if we do, it's certainly not gonna be before we turn twenty), so if you're missing a Monthly Memento, now's your one and only chance to complete your collection.
Over the coming weeks I'll be introducing new lore, new Outpost features, new display skins, new tools to help roleplaying and writing, and making some interesting expansions to the Places system, as well as a sprinkling of other niftiness here and there.
It's gonna be a hell of a month. Thank you so much for being a part of this weird and wonderful decade-long experiment, and here's to another ten years!
(oh, and one more, tiny thing: the maximum character limit on Distractions has been increased tenfold. Mostly so I could send this long-ass message out as a Distraction.)
Coming up on ten years!
Admin CavemanJoe 2018-01-20 17:53:32
Hey, folks. Improbable Island turns ten years old in February, so I'm taking a week off my day job to work exclusively on the Island. I'm making some cool new things that I hope you'll enjoy.
Later on this year we're gonna try to make it so that you can log in to one account that contains all your characters, so we can move towards legitimizing alts (which have always been in a sort of weird grey area, policies-wise). You'll log in with your email address and then choose from a list of characters to use, and we'll even have a quick way to swap between them. The first step in this process is to get everyone's email address, so if you haven't already given us an email for you, now would be a great time to do it. See your Prefences page, available from any Outpost. You'll also (optionally) get email notifications when someone sends you a Distraction.
The online contestant list is down while I sort some shit out, there's no need to petition about it.
We're gonna do a ridiculous bundle deal for our tenth anniversary, and following a conversation in Chat yesterday, Jon made this form to help decide how much we should ask for it. In our 10-year history we've never asked more than $30 for any one item (which was the 30 Bundle, which was when I turned 30, half a decade ago), so it's unlikely it'll be more than that, but data is good to have anyway. Bear in mind the contents of the bundle are just me chucking ideas around and are subject to change. Your input is very much appreciated, and it's only one question.
I'm gonna get back to programming awesome stuff for celebrating ten years of the Island. See you all in a couple of weeks, and have fun!
Merry Christmas from Improbable Island!
Admin CavemanJoe 2017-12-25 04:58:36
So I'm up in the attic at my laptop going "Well, let's do the traditional Various Solstice Celebrations MotD," and then going "...the fuck do I write. Oh, I know! I'll look back at last year's MotD, and maybe that'll give me an idea!"
Oh. Last year I was trying to wrangle a brand new baby, and didn't have time to do the Christmas MotD.
Well how about the year before that? Um...
OKAY WELL HOW ABOUT 2014 THEN.
WELL HOW ABOUT 2013 THEN.
Yikes fucking hell.
Why do I think this is an annual tradition, when I don't actually, y'know, do it? Why do I have the memory of leaving it too late every year, and hastily knocking out a vaguely festive MotD on my phone at like nine o'clock on Christmas Eve like I'm doing the Queen's Speech or something, when the last time I actually did that was four years ago?
It's probably because in 2014 I started working part-time at Victory Pointe, the arcade in Pittsburgh that needed someone who knew how CRT monitors worked, and I spent my Christmas elbow-deep in the sort of grime that gets attracted to 30,000 volt anodes. And then in 2015 I was working at PAPA, the world pinball headquarters, adding switches to all their electromechanical games to let them be toggled between free play and token play - so I was elbow-deep in 40-year-old grease and mouse poop. And then in 2016 I was still there - and with a brand new Nerv to boot, so I was elbow-deep in solenoid dust and baby poop. Time just got away from me, I guess.
Well right now my elbows are clean for a whole day damn it and I just saw something I can cram into a festive message.
Our team on World Community Grid - that's the screensaver you can download that uses your unused CPU cycles to help find cures for cancer, ebola, Zika, tuberculosis and AIDS - passed three thousand years of runtime today.
In case you're unfamiliar - researchers occasionally have to do preposterously complicated computations, and to do that they need to rent time on a supercomputer, which are rare and expensive and usually all booked up. Here on Improbable Island we like to sign people up to have their idle desktops and laptops become part of a supercomputer made up of thousands of regular computers all working together, and set that computer towards working out really hard problems.
In the nine years that our distributed supercomputer has been running, we've accomplished the equivalent of:
895 years of mapping cancer markers;
594 years of identifying chemical characteristics of potential AIDS-defeating drugs;
221 years of human proteome folding;
193 years of research on protein X-ray crystallography to help with cancer treatment;
145 years of searching for Leishmaniasis drugs;
144 years of research into potential new super-efficient and cheap water filtration systems;
130 years of searching for drugs to disable proteins associated with neuroblastoma, one of the most frequently-occurring solid tumours in children;
125 years of research into a cure for muscular dystrophy;
110 years of solar panel research;
109 years of research into malaria treatments;
74 years of research into schistosoma treatment;
73 years of research into how the HIV virus evolves;
56 years of research into ebola treatments;
42 years of research into antiviral drugs to combat the Zika virus;
32 years of examining millions of genes from a wide variety of lifeforms, just in case something useful comes up.
As well as some odd change, decades or two, in a wide range of other humanitarian research. And all that runtime hit the three thousand year mark this very day, just when I was looking for something festive to write about.
I don't think there's anything more Christmassy than that.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons License.
Game Design and Code: Copyright © 2002-2005, Eric Stevens & JT Traub, © 2006-2007, Dragonprime Development Team