It was a dark and stormy day when I saw that SLM #1 was out. After reading and enjoying it a part of my brain told me to write a column to help those gallant lads who write the thingy. I was convinced, after thinking of the fame and money I would get from doing this. (Case, I expect that cheque before the end of this month ;) )

If you’re still reading this you’re a persistent person, stay that way, I’m going to ramble on some more. Just imagine that I’m your grandfather and that you’ll get money when you leave. Anyway, I decided to write a little something about PBEMs, that beautiful wart on the nose that is the multiplayer community. As of now I’m playing in four PBEMs, strangely enough I’m playing as either Japan or the USA in all of them. But I digress from the point. The point being that I came up with that catchy title so I better make use of it. Here goes:

The Good:

The simple joy of playing against humans. The simple joy that someone on the other side of the world will be swearing in God-knows what language after seeing what you’ve done to his army.

The Bad:

The simple joy of having your army cut to pieces, fried, boiled, fricasseed, cut up some more and then used as a doormat by a fellow human being. Even if you’re beaten by the best winner in the world who is as humble and polite as everyone should be I have horrible visions of the person throwing great "I beat the living $hit out of Pavlov"-fiestas.

The Ugly:

Spending hours waiting for someone to react to your brilliant moves. I sometimes wonder why some people aren’t as willing as I am to stay inside on a Saturday night just to check if their turn is coming up. Cheaters obviously fall within this category. I share the opinion (with who you might wonder) that cheaters should be spanked with a large porcupine while being forced to bump threads for an eternity. It’s also quite ugly when I ponder upon the question if I will be given an immediate editors status for this brilliant article. Or perhaps a complete dictatorship? Who knows.

Conclusion: Do not ever ever promise to write a column for a magazine. Do never follow up your ‘bright’ ideas. Don’t do this at home. You really shouldn’t write columns after eating a strange tasting piece of chocolate that has turned an odd colour.

That’s all for now kids. I promise that next time I try to write a column I’ll actually think of a subject before writing the damn thing.

Pavlov, trying to dig his way into the SLM office