Although I've been pretty busy with non-SL things, there are some new developments that you may (or may not) be interested in.

First -- and this announcement is greatly overdue -- I'd like to welcome the two new Aerodrome Liasons to Abbotts: Rei Kuhr and Arrekusu Muromachi. These two aviation buffs have been very helpful in the past in promoting all things that fly in SL, and I'm very happy to have them around Abbotts to answer questions, run events, and look cool in matching flight suits. Say hi to them if you get a chance.

Second, there's a new aircraft lab for the use of any aircraft designers in the northwest corner of Abbotts. It's not very big, but it's semi-isolated and less likely to have gun-toting griefers. Think of it as a mini sandbox for aircraft builders.

Third, and this is partly connected with the first point, be sure to check the event calendar for weekly events in Abbotts, like build contests and skydiving competitions. See you there!

In an effort to boost sagging readership numbers, I have been asked to revise Monday's entry to include more exciting content.

Given the choice between a dry, meager sandwich and the edible grease-sponges from McD's, I usually go for the sandwich -- especially when I'm falling from ten thousand feet with evil henchmen taking swipes at me with razor-sharp machetes. Sandwiches just seem to hold together better in freefall. Today, however, gnawing hunger drove me to blast into a McD's wearing my top secret jet pack to lay my hands on one of those new "deli" sandwiches. The girl at the counter said it was better for me.

But for some reason, I felt she was lying. Maybe it was the shifty look in her eyes. Maybe it was the nervious twitch at the edge of her mouth. Or maybe it was her spastic outburst of "I'M A LYING SACK O' CRUD AND I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!!" before she crumpled into a sobbing heap on the floor. I have to keep my eyes open for these little clues.

While all eyes were on the sobbing McD's girl, I swiped a steaming "buffalo chicken deli sandwich" and blasted off to my top secret lab, which I keep in geosynchronous orbit over the Pacific. After running the sandwich through the computer for analysis, I was utterly gobsmacked. This was no "deli sandwich"!

At first, as far as I could tell, the buffalo chicken deli sandwich is just an elongated McChicken with mildly spicy sauce on it. There was, in fact, no buffalo in it at all. And inside that, under the wilted lettuce and wedged inside a soggy crevice of processed chicken "meat" was a tiny but powerful bomb!

Grabbing the sandwich, I threw it into the airlock and pounded the emergency cycle button. The blast of decompressed blew the deadly at high speed outward into the inky blackness of space. Mere minutes later, a blinding flash enveloped my lab, followed by a shock wave that nearly tore the place apart.

I survived the ordeal, but now I'm curious what other "deli" offerings they have. Maybe they'll have a beef and cheese "deli" sandwich that's an elongated Big Mac... WITH A THERMONUCLEAR DEVICE!

Of course, I don't expect any better. I just like the entertainment of discovering weapons of mass destruction buried in common food items. It's all part of keeping the world safe from the evil gloved hand of Ronald.

Given the choice between a dry, meager sandwich and the edible grease-sponges from McD's, I usually go for the sandwich. Today, however, I took a risk and tried one of those new "deli" sandwiches. Supposedly, it's better for you.

For some reason, I find that hard to believe. As far as I could tell, the buffalo chicken deli sandwich is just an elongated McChicken with mildly spicy sauce on it. Same wilted lettuce. Same greasy, processed chicken "meat", but it's sliced up to fit inside the bun.

I'm curious what other "deli" offerings they have. Maybe they'll have a beef and cheese "deli" sandwich that's an elongated Big Mac.

Of course, I didn't expect any better. I just like the entertainment of finding out just how disappointed I'll be with my insta-meal.

It was a quiet morning, a crisp morning like many others at the cusp of September, with a slight chill that hinted at the waning summer and the slow-approaching damp of fall. Outside my kitchen window, orange dawn touched the roofs and treetops, and caused a family of seagulls to shriek vigorously at the approaching day, which startled a calico abruptly from licking itself before being chased off by the neighbour's three-legged terrier.

Inside, in half-shadow, I stood vigil over the inert form of my beloved companion. My attempt to resuscitate had been futile. It was dead -- passed beyond the veil of darkness into the endless light of the hereafter. It would forevermore remain silent and nevermore would coffee would issue from it's warm carafe.

For seven years, we had lived in symbiosis. I would feed it coffee grounds and give it water and electricity, and in return it gifted me with the rich nectar of the Colombian mountains. It asked so little of me, and yet gave so much.

Perhaps, in the bitter clarity of hindsight, I might have demanded too much. Did I hasten its demise with too many late nights and early mornings? Had I only been more nurturing, would it still be with me today to share the pleasure of seeing another dawn? These thoughts troubled me -- gnawed at me -- as I stared at the now-silent form. No more would it greet me with its steamy, burbling voice and a friendly "12:00" flashing on its face.

And yet, from every end, there is a new beginning. Today I am joined by a new face -- smaller, younger, and hissing with the excitement of youth. From here on, we'll explore our new relationship, and discover new dawns and entirely different families of shrieking seagulls. From the end of an old friendship starts a new one, and its name is Black and Decker SmartBrew. Only $9.95 at Canadian Tire. Not a bad deal, really.

It's official. I now have a copy of K.A. Bedford's latest -- Eclipse -- on pre-order from Edge Publishing. Publisher Brian has high praise for Adrian's new novel.

I'll be eagerly eyeing my mailbox in September.

You know you've been working at a computer for too long when you write something on a pad of paper and then absently try to press CTRL+S to save what you wrote.

Not long ago, thousands of SLers logged on all at once in the grid-wide stress test. Of those people, only a handful won the coveted SL pendant. Guess what finally arrived in the mail today?



Lookit! Innit purty?

Real life demands that I pay attention to it again, so I've spent the last few days finishing up projects, tying up loose ends. After today, I won't be able to spend much time in SL, except on weekends.

Abbotts Aerodrome will continue to run as usual. In fact there's more now than before... I recently added a new teleporter system to help people get around. It's slower than a regular "sit target" teleporter, but it has more special effects. It was something to do.

And for fans of Apotheus' 737 and my airship tours, I've added two new AI flights.



Every 15 minutes you can catch a flight on a single-engine light plane ("Whistler") to the city of Nova Albion and back. Every 20 minutes, you can catch a flight on a stripped-down L-18 Lodestar transport to the northern continent and back.

Hm. As I type that, it occurs to me that the flights will synchronize occasionally and rez two planes simultaneously on the runway. I'll have to fix that... or hire an air traffic controller.

So have fun with those, and I'll see you on the weekend! If you need immediatel help with something, you can try me at my e-mail address: cubeyterra[at]cubeyterra[dot]com. Change the "at" and "dot" to the appropriate punctuation.

Today my parents donated a whole salmon, fresh off the boats, to the CubicleDweller.ca Salmon Fund. Alright, there's no such thing, but don't tell that to my parents. I scored a pink salmon out of it.

As a longtime resident of the British Columbia coast, I know all about how how to prepare salmon. I've seen it all done before, from the rod to the plate. Catch it, clean it, trim it, wash it, and cook it. Nothing to it.

I've eaten a lot of salmon too -- barbecued, baked, smoked, raw -- but as I looked this little fellow in the eye, it occurred to me that I'd never prepared a whole one before, myself.

Then it made a face at me. You know, sticking out it's tongue at me. Or maybe that was my imagination.

I hesitated for a moment. How could I let this happen? I've caught salmon bigger than this, but I have to admit that I usually let someone else deal with the messy bit in the middle and go straight to the eating part. Don't misunderstand -- I'm no wuss when it comes to raw meat, but here was an obvious gap in my experience. It was time I faced up to my responsibilities as a coast-dweller and prepared myself a fish. So I rolled up my sleeves (mentally, since I was wearing a short-sleeved shirt) and set myself to the gruesome task.

I took out my kitchen knife and prepared for the first incision, whereupon it slithered out of my hands and into the sink. Pretty feisty for something this long out of the water. Dragging it back ashore to the cutting board, I managed to hack off its head before it knew what was coming. Strangley, this didn't seem to improve its mood -- it was good and mad now.

Some minutes later, when the dust of battle settled, I found myself smeared to the elbows in salmon guck. My kitchen counter was fairly swimming in the blood of my enemy, but the glorious victory was mine! Qapla'!!

It seems to me that people should become more involved with the preparation of their food. Too often we're insulated from the realities of a carnivorous diet, and it would be greatly educational to experience more of the process. For example, we should buy more whole chickens. And when we want steak for dinner, we should hack off a chunk of a cow (assuming it's already dead, of course). And when we want tofu, we should have to shoot and skin our own tofu beasts. We're far too insulated from the brutal carnage of the tofu hunt.

So tonight, as I feast on salmon, I'll feel more like a true west coaster than ever before. Nevertheless, I'm so glad it was already gutted when I got it.

I stumbled across this pleasant surprise in the forums yesterday: Robin Linden has announced that during a one-week test new users will have the option to arrive in DaBoom or Abbotts instead of the usual Welcome Area in Morris/Ahern. For the duration of this little experiment, Linden Lab will record the stats. How many will choose Abbotts Aerodrome over The Edge nightclub? What kind of first impression of SL will a new user get from these places?



In response, the Aerodrome crew will be trying to add more stuff for newbies to play with. To start, I have a few more Test Drive buttons in my hangar: Tigershark, Cormorant, CLAWW, DS3 drop ship, and Futura 6 hovercar.



And there's also the usual free things to do: skydiving, airship flights, dogfights, and swilling prim-coffee at Terrabucks.

For my last week before I head back to cubicle land, I decided to go camping and spend some quality time in the great outdoors. I wanted to surround myself with the majesty of nature -- the trees, the water, the train roaring through the pass, and the loud gang of boom-box-laden hoodlums from Surrey.

It would have been nice. Last night, the prediction was sunny skies all week, but today... today the forecast is nothing but rain. The surest way to make it rain is to haul my camping gear out of the closet.

Over the last few days, I've worked on an upgrade to the old drop ship. I'm sure you've seen it around -- it's the twin-hulled, seven-seat skydiving ship. As usualy, I added a few new features, like the ability to land at high speed after dropping skydivers at high altitude. That seemed like a good feature after going 4 kilometers up in seconds, then finding myself stranded up there with nothing but regular thrust to get back down.

It also has a slightly redesigned model. The pilot now sits in a centrally-located cockpit instead of the left-hand pod, and it's more compact in general.



The biggest question on my mind is this: what's it called? When I made it in 2004, I just called it the "drop ship". No name, just... "drop ship". But that doesn't seem right. After all, my other vehicles have names, so why shouldn't this one? I thought about "Icarus" after the ancient Greek guy who flew too close to the sun and burned his wings. But since Icarus fell to his death in that incident, I think maybe a more positive name might be appropriate.

I considered naming it H.A.L.O., a military acronym that stands for High-Alititude, Low-Orbit, but when you consider that no SL vehicle can go any higher than 4096 meters, it didn't seem very much like "low orbit".

In the end, I took my cue from Sony. I'm calling it the DS3. Drop Ship version 3. It's sort of a name, isn't it?

I have two computers -- a laptop and a desktop -- and normally I logon to SL with my desktop. It's the one with a gig of memory and a kick-ass graphics card. Tonight, however, my ISP decided to screw up and deny me access to everything but IRC for some reason. This means that my access to SL is only from my laptop if I (gasp) connect via a neighbour's wireless.

Alright, so I managed to log into SL. A short timer later, my laptop is so hot that my hands are uncomfortably warm on the keyboard and the fan is roaring like a leaf blower. This is not good. SL is definitely more CPU intensive than my poor laptop can handle -- it's almost toasted from less than 10 minutes logged into SL. Someone suggested immersing it in ice water, but I think I'll just unplug the thing. Something tells me that water and electronics don't go together all that well. :)

In a startling revelation today, I suddenly understood why my Cormorant and Tigershark suffered from a strange bug that I'd been unable to fix. The fix was so astoundingly simple, but the results so dramatic, that I can't believe this never occurred to me before.

The upshot of this all is that 1) Tigershark and Cormorant are both available in version 2.0.1 and they fly smooth as silk now, and 2) I am a complete blithering idiot.

I'll try to send out the fix to everyone who bought a copy of 2.0.1. If you don't receive one today, please IM me.

Once I start revising old aircraft it's just so tempting to move on to the next one. I'll update one plane with all the latest gadgets and gewgaws I know, then I look at the plane next to it and think... well, it can't be that hard to fix up that one too. And when I'm finished that, I'll start eyeing the rest of the lineup. Before I know it I'm on a rampage, ripping apart my old stuff and plugging in new and interesting bits and pieces of script, textures, and sounds.

Remember the Cormorant? That was supposed to be a minor upgrade. Weeks later, I have two completely revised planes. That would have been the end of it if someone hadn't reminded me how much work the airship needed. So for the last couple of days, I touched up the airship and added some nifty new stuff, slimmed the hull, retextured, and streamlined the scripts. The result is Terra Airship 4.



So that's my weekend gone.

On another note, I was happy to learn that I won the draw for a pewter Second Life pendant. I'm looking forward to getting that in the mail. I hope it has a good bling script in it. Does pewter count as bling?

A conversation about birthdays in the #secondlife IRC channel reminded me... as of next week, the avatar "Cubey Terra" is two years old.

Few people know, however, that I didn't start in SL as "Cubey". I started as "Tillman Terra" two years ago this week.

Tillman Terra as of September 5, 2003: my first SL account

I didn't really like the name Tillman -- I borrowed it from a character in a story that I was writing at the time -- so I cancelled Tillman Terra and created a new one. "Cubey" was a nickname that I'd previously picked up on another blog. And so "Cubey Terra" was born.

Sniff. Ah memories. Seriously, it hardly feels like I've been part of Second Life this long. Time seems to zip past. If you asked me what I did in the last two years in SL... well, my mind would go completely blank. It's all a blur. Then when I get past that initial confusion, I'll think of Abbotts Aerodrome, of course. That's been the single biggest project I've worked on.

There are other things in SL that stand out -- sometimes just details -- some significant, some not. I remember things like in my first week of SL, when I was actually afraid to go into Jessie because I thought dying might wipe my inventory and reset me back to the start, like a game. I also remember my first experiments with building in Morris. I took the Linden flamingo, stretched it really huge and put it on a pedestal with a lantern in its beak. I also remember hanging out with the michievous Lola Bombay and being so very impressed that she could make Trent Hedges' Harley not only drive but fly!

Back then, Show and Tell was a well-attended, regular event at Stage 4 (where the Welcome Area is now). All of the top designers were there to show off their latest creations. In fact, there were so few people in SL that it was possible to meet almost everyone just by going to events at Stage 4.

I also remember the thrill I got from contructing my first theatre in Natoma, on Delerium Island. I couldn't, at that point, script my way out of a wet paper bag, so my main interest was running events at "Theatre Terra". The world was a swath of "Public" land with patches of private land scattered across it, so finding a patch was as easy as picking your favourite sim and moving in. Crushing taxes, of course, made actually keeping any amount of land a difficult, if not impossible, proposition. Without GOM to buy L$ from, we had to earn everything through events and sales.

This blog entry is turning into the clip show episode, isn't it?

Why, remember when... [insert wobbly flashback transition]...

• Public land was everywhere.
  
• Any objects left on Public land "decayed" over a period of time until they too were public and anyone could claim them.
  
• The welcome area was a grassy hilltop with a wide, grassy road down to Stage 4.
  
• Events were listed not in a window, but on a billboard near Stage 4.
  
• The Linden Liasons (well, mostly Jeff Linden) hosted weekly Avatar of the Week contests at the Linden-owned amphitheatre in Clara.
  
• Bingo at the Boardwalk
  
• The Linden-owned Avatar Central shops in Natoma and Aqua.
  
• Bhodi Silverman's art gallery in the northwest corner of Jessie.
  
• A green -- not blue -- interface on SL.
  
• Objects cost L$10 per prim to rez, so if you spent all your money on a 50-prim pair of wings, you'd have to save up another L$500 just to be able to wear them. Shooting a gun meant your L$ balance went down L$10 per bullet. If you lost your bullets onto no-script land (no temporary prims, remember), you'd be out a whole whack of money.
  
• There was a weekly tax on pretty much everything: land, light objects, and objects in the air, just to mention a few. "Born free, taxed to death" signs abounded.
  
• The drama of 1.2, where land would be payed for with real cash, and you could buy L$ from something called GOM. I was adamant that bringing US dollars into the game would ruin it.
  
• Tan was the centre of the world, and Public land was very expensive there... L$2 per sqare meter!
  
• Federal was the eastern edge of the world and was a pain to get to because you had to either pay for point-to-point teleport (if you had a landmark already) or fly there!
  
• Flight scripts were rare and extremely difficult to write because LL hadn't introduced vehicle physics yet. Most planes didn't move anything like planes.
  
• There was only one island sim -- Cayman.
  
• Americana.
  
• LindenWorld amusement park.
  
• Poetry events hosted by Garth and Pituca (before their SL wedding) at their posh seaside home in Clyde.
  
• My weekly bad poetry improvs.
  
• Market events hosted by Lynn Lippman in Immaculate.
  
• The arrival of those mysterious hat-shaped things all over SL called "telehubs".
  
• When Linden Lab brought new sims online, it was HUGE NEWS and everyone flocked to see them.
  
• Snow sims! Wow!
  
• The world getting so big that even longtime SLers could get lost without looking at the map.

[wobbly flashback transition]

And stuff like that. It's been a fun and horribly addictive two years. Here's to year three!

It was almost a year ago that I made my first submersible airplane, the Cormorant. I followed that up almost immediately by a two-seat plane -- the Tigershark. The Tigershark was essentially a wider version of the Cormorant with a handful of nice extras.

So when I finished the Cormorant 2 last week, I thought to myself... "Hey." Then I thought to myself, "Why don't you make a new Tigershark too?" And after that I thought to myself, "Why am I having conversations with myself?" And I didn't know the answer to that.

Over the last few days, with helpful input from several SL Flying Corps pilots, I've worked at modifying the Cormorant into a two-seater as I did last time. It's lengthened and widened to include a tail gunner's position.

Cormorant 2 (left) and Tigershark 2 beta (right)

I have to say, this plane kicks serious ass in a TCS dogfight. In a few test battles yesterday, Rei Kuhr quickly mastered the split-second timing needed to fire a fixed-aim tailgun and took out several attackers. If anyone got on our six, they were toast.

So... two planes, both similar but different. Cormorant 2 is smaller (cheaper), seats one, and has one gun. Tigershark 2 is larger, seats two, has two guns, and has a nifty paint job. With luck and lots more testing, I should have Tigershark 2 done by the weekend. Take your pick!