#mudandmuck — Public Fediverse posts

I wrote an article over how to do mapping in MUDs, that might be helpful for client developers (there are a lot of new ones since AI is adopted) and server developers the like.

https://mudstandards.org/howto/mapping

In general, if you want to contribute to that site, have a look at this repository with the Docusaurus Markdown: https://github.com/taranion/mudstandards/

#MUD #mudAndMuck

I wrote an article over how to do mapping in MUDs, that might be helpful for client developers (there are a lot of new ones since AI is adopted) and server developers the like.

https://mudstandards.org/howto/mapping

In general, if you want to contribute to that site, have a look at this repository with the Docusaurus Markdown: https://github.com/taranion/mudstandards/

#MUD #mudAndMuck

I wrote an article over how to do mapping in MUDs, that might be helpful for client developers (there are a lot of new ones since AI is adopted) and server developers the like.

https://mudstandards.org/howto/mapping

In general, if you want to contribute to that site, have a look at this repository with the Docusaurus Markdown: https://github.com/taranion/mudstandards/

#MUD #mudAndMuck

A Question of Conscience

Are you dead, my guide?
Or have you simply sunk into the muck
that creeps upon these inner corridors,
drowning in helpless demise?

The glass is obscured and the
bright moon has faded into the mist
while I, like a blind hand groping,
stand trembling in this night,

waiting.

October 28, 1988, Curridabat, Costa Rica

Part of the continuing Respectful American series, a selection of writings from my travel journals from Central America in 1988

A Question of Conscience

Are you dead, my guide?
Or have you simply sunk into the muck
that creeps upon these inner corridors,
drowning in helpless demise?

The glass is obscured and the
bright moon has faded into the mist
while I, like a blind hand groping,
stand trembling in this night,

waiting.

October 28, 1988, Curridabat, Costa Rica

Part of the continuing Respectful American series, a selection of writings from my travel journals from Central America in 1988

A Question of Conscience

Are you dead, my guide?
Or have you simply sunk into the muck
that creeps upon these inner corridors,
drowning in helpless demise?

The glass is obscured and the
bright moon has faded into the mist
while I, like a blind hand groping,
stand trembling in this night,

waiting.

October 28, 1988, Curridabat, Costa Rica

Part of the continuing Respectful American series, a selection of writings from my travel journals from Central America in 1988

A Question of Conscience

Are you dead, my guide?
Or have you simply sunk into the muck
that creeps upon these inner corridors,
drowning in helpless demise?

The glass is obscured and the
bright moon has faded into the mist
while I, like a blind hand groping,
stand trembling in this night,

waiting.

October 28, 1988, Curridabat, Costa Rica

Part of the continuing Respectful American series, a selection of writings from my travel journals from Central America in 1988