Facebook Group

The facebook group for the Afterlife MUD was created to bring together current and former players and immortals of the Afterlife to share their experiences with each other and create a greater MUD community for us all.

The formation of the group somewhat unexpectedly resulted in a re-interest in playing the MUD for many players who have been absent for some time at the delight of those who have remained active over the years. The group itself was initially created by an Immortal who had not been active for a number of years.

There are several documents in the facebook group which serve a dual purpose of telling a story focused around a little inn representing the facebook group itself. In the comments section of each story players share their character names, memories and people they are missing as prompted by the end of each story.

Interestingly the creation of the facebook coincided with a brief downtime for the MUD perhaps the result of long corrupted pfiles attempting to log in for the first time in years. The final story announced that the Afterlife had finally come back up.

Introductions
Your battle with the Tarrasque did not go well. What terrible luck that you would be out collecting ingredients for that old witch doctor when the Tarrasque decided to rampage. That damnable Trillian sold you this faulty sword. Slayer indeed, it didn't even scratch the beast's hide.

You have grown so accustomed to waking up by that old dusty hut or that temple in New Thalos that you didn't even realize you were in neither of those places for the first few moments, almost smacking your head into a tree.

You find yourself in a clearing surrounded by trees. There appears to be some ruins about but nature has long claimed this land for its own. Off in the distance you can see a large wooden sign with some letters etched in it. You make your way to the sign.

The moment you read the sign you have a flash back of something you read or was said to you so long ago. The sign reads "Welcome To Your Afterlife", but the word After is scratched out. Welcome To Your         life.

Below the title there is another heading crudely scraped into the wood, clearly not part of the original design. It reads, "Introductions" and there is a list of names scratched below it. You recognize a few of the names as people you've met, fought or befriended. You reach for your scabbard to etch your own name into the wood but you suddenly realize your equipment is gone, your skin feels unfamiliar and a flood of memories return to you. You were someone else once before and you are them again. You grab a sharpened stone at the base of the sign and etch your old name below the last.

Memories
As you wander through the forest past that old wooden sign you remember your old life but realize that you aren't in it. How long have I been gone? What is this place? Eventually you notice that you are walking on a well worn path, probably paved by all the names on that old sign.

After walking for some time you come upon an old inn. There is smoke coming from the chimney and the noise of a friendly crowd inside so you make your way to the door and walk in.

The moment you open the door you cannot believe how many people are packed in this little room. You work your way through the crowd and luckily find an empty seat at the bar. The bar tender is busy so you take a minute to just look around.

Something strikes you as odd, you are at once pretty sure that these people are old friends and you feel in your gut that they are the names that were etched on that wooden sign but you can only see humans. There isn't an Drake, Manx or Nazgul anywhere. You can't even seem to spot an elf or dwarf in the lot of them. Then you remember, your skin changed too. Were you a human before...or something else?

As you sit there pondering your old life a voice next to you says, "Do you remember that time that Spike captured that whole colony of elves for dinner? Or that game of coil where nearly the whole land had their sex changed?" You turn to look and see an unfamiliar face staring at you with very recognizable eyes. Suddenly you feel like you've known this person for years. "No", you reply, "but I do remember when..."

Missing Persons
One story turned into a dozen more with twice as many people. It’s sometimes a struggle to put new faces to old names but you manage and have since joined the crowded tables in the center of the inn while noticing the door occasionally open and another bleary eyed stranger working their way toward that empty stool.

After a long while of swapping stories and catching up with old friends you haven’t seen in a lifetime but feel like they never left you decide to make your way to the bathroom for a breather.

On the wall of the bathroom is a cracked but ornate silvered glass hanging on the wall by the wash basin. You stare at yourself in the mirror for a few moments trying to recognize your other face hidden behind your current. You trace the lines of your features with your fingers and press and stretch various parts to see if you can see yourself again. Then as if you had just been struck an image flashes in your mind. Maybe it was the way your were manipulating your own face or maybe it was the way that crack distorted your image but you were suddenly reminded of an old friend. Are they here now? Does anybody else know them? Maybe there’s some way to contact them.

You make your way back out to the main room and shout, “Hey!”. You’re just barely audible over the noise but a few people look in your direction. You continue, “Does anybody know...”?

The Return
You feel like you have been in this inn for days reliving days long gone by. The door opens a lot less frequently now and that empty stool you’ve affectionately named “The Haunted Castle” seems to stay empty most of the time. The room is so crowded now that getting back to the bathroom would take you the rest of the evening. Or is it morning? There’s an old clock on the wall that has no numbers or hands, it just seems to tick behind it’s empty face.

A small party is gathering, someone announced that are going to send out a party to explore the area, see if they can figure out where they are and how to get back to either of their old lives. This sounds like a good idea so you join the party.

Suddenly just as the party is about to leave the door opens and the bartender walks inside. “That’s funny”, you think to yourself, “I never saw him leave.” As he returns to the bar you swear you just saw him rejoin his shadow, but that doesn’t make any sense so you shrug it off and head out with the party.

The moment you step outside you see it’s snowing and has been for quite some time. The path you took to get here is well covered with a white blanket hiding even the most recent foot steps. The bartender appears to have left no prints either.....strange.

Your party is somehow well equipped for the journey, every member seems to have brought some strength with them that has allowed you to trek through this winter land for as many hours as it has taken. Someone was even smart enough to bring some paint so that you can find your way back to the inn once your tracks have disappeared.

Eventually you come to a clearing and the party freezes in their tracks. A feeble looking old man is walking casually through the snow. He looks eerily familiar. The party silently decides to follow him but at a great enough distance that a man of his age would surely not be able to spot your modest party.

The old man winds his way through the trees as if he knows exactly where he is going. Eventually he stops, turns around and looks directly at you, then disappears. The party cautiously moves to where he was and just as you get there you see something off in the distance. “Is that Taheria?”, someone exclaims. “Are you blind, it’s clearly New Thalos!”, another retorts. They break into a run with the rest of the party following closely behind and disappear at the gates. You are just about to follow when you notice something else in another direction. Is that? It’s home... my real home.

Realizing what had just happened you turn to follow the trail of painted trees back to the inn and report that we may return to the either our life or afterlife if we so choose. You glance at the bartender who gives you a wink and you feel a small object in your pocket. A single skittle. You turn and walk out the door knowing that which ever direction you decide to go you’ll find your way back to this inn again.