Griefer Madness

Thursday, February 7th, 2008


Last night, I logged onto Second Life and assumed the identity of Bodunk Boram. This red dressed, obese jackass was ready for adventure. Into the stuttering and butt ugly world he flew with gusto!

The first order of business was checking to see if I could go back to any of the neighborhoods I had been banned from on prior adventures. Prognosis negative, I flew around until I found two women in an elaborate wooden hotel complex. They were nude and engaged in an adult activity on a marble-framed bed surrounded by glowing candles and oriental rugs. I flew through the window into their room and stood at their bedside. Their intimate moment was surely heightened by my repeated whistling and disapproval sounds.

Still engaged, the blue-skinned woman asked her lover “Who is that guy?” The other woman didn’t know, but accused me of being a “perv” and a “griefer.” Now Bodunk Boram is many things, but he is not a “perv.” I figured I’d at least make their second claim valid by cloning locked red cubes all over the room, including their bed.

Annoyed, the two disengaged and tried to confront me. I ran away. After things cooled off, I snuck back into the room. The two lovers were trying to remove the red cubes. Eventually they gave up, got dressed and flew away.

Who were these two ladies in real life? Why were they doing THAT in an abandoned virtual hotel? Why did I have to ruin it? These are troubling questions that come to mind as you’re dragging huge red cubes from your inventory into a virtual world.

My next stop was a nearby community of rental apartments on a tropical beach. The realtor named Galexy Oh was trying to make a sale to an avatar named Theanna Pessoa. Poor Theanna was having trouble not bumping into walls, but she seemed very enthusiastic about renting the virtual property.

I started exploring the apartment they were looking at. The bedroom was in front with a large ocean-view window. I sat myself on the foot of the bed and started whistling and waving my hands at them. They walked up to the window and looked at me.

“Can I help you?” The realtor asked.

Bodunk whistled enticingly from the bed.

The realtor paused, then got back to her sell, suggesting that they take a look at another unit up on the hill. I followed. The balcony of the other unit was pretty sweet. I plopped myself in a patio chair and started whistling again before the realtor slapped me into the upper atmosphere and out of the property. Time to move on.

“What with the dude in the red dress?” A man dressed in black leather asked his swarthy nude conversation partner.

I was at another beach house. One of the people was renting it for a week for a surprising amount of real money. The place was unfurnished. The owner didn’t take much time to eject and ban me from the property.

Fortunately I was able to build some pretty tall red towers around the property line. I lingered outside the wall and waved to them before moving on.


Ah, young love. This couple was slow dancing and exchanging kisses alone in a honkey tonk.

Compared to a lot of what I saw that night in Second Life, their little moment seemed so innocent. And how dare Bodunk Boram ruin that? It was a night for love, for music to take over, to slowly dance away grief-filled tendencies.

Bodunk signed off.

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