Whiskey in the jAAR - Part Deux-twa

[Wraith11B]

"Ah yes, Die Hard, a true Christmas classic!" Jak goes to tend the bar.

Rummaging through the cupboards, he smiles. "You're in luck, we do have some Angel's Envy available."

He pours @Wraith11B a shot of rye whiskey and leaves the bottle. "It should help with the pain" Jak wonders what happened, but decides it's probably best not to ask.

"Cheers, mate!" A quick sip of the glass to savor the sweetness and flavor, catching the glance at the rather protrusive bandage. "Ah yeah, that. Let's just say that everyone should wear sunscreen, yeah?"

He responds to their query. "I am, though the year seems to have flown by. But that's good in some ways. If it was going slowly then nothing exciting happened."

"It certainly has. I can fortunately relax for a bit, myself." Another sip, and a thoughtful pause. "Time to just be casual about the passage of time!"

 

[Chac1]

"Great to see the deputy-soldier-student-newlywed back in the bAAR," Chac1 waved at @Wraith11B after lifting his head out of the various seasonal tomes he was reading. "Sorry to see the healers were so strict with their remedies. Seems many of us are nicked up after this long year."

"Kept that 4.0, despite crap profs!" he chuckles, wincing because of the two inch by one inch hole in his skin is throbbing.

"As a former teacher, I often wonder what constitutes a negligent or incompetent professor. Any tales you wish to tell?" Chac1 asked.

"I am, though the year seems to have flown by. But that's good in some ways. If it was going slowly then nothing exciting happened."

"Ah, we all travel different trails and live in different parts of this magical world," Chac1 replied. He took a sip of the Woo drink and stared for a moment into space. "So much has happened this year, my head is still spinning. And I swear that is not this Woo drink that you concocted, Jak."

"Time to just be casual about the passage of time!"

"Indeed. That is best during this time of year as we recount the past, and look to the future," Chac1 observed. Then he stuck his head back into one of the many books he had accumulated near his comfy seat not far from the fireplace.

 

[Chac1]

With all the reading, sipping of drinks, and the expiration of songs on the jukebox, the bAAR grew hushed. Some folks had already drifted away from the holiday celebration.

However, after finishing most of the Woo drink, the ancient one had found another gear for his festive mood.

He quickly dialed a number on his portable magic box (his cellphone). "Bring it up as soon as possible," he spoke into the phone in hushed tones so as not to disturb the reading (and indeed some snoozing... although not much alcohol had been imbibed yet).

Minutes later, the door to the bAAR was pushed open loudly. Even the ancient one who was expecting the clatter was a bit surprised and unnerved.

Two burly workmen in coveralls came clambering into the barroom. Each was holding one end of a very large yule log.

"Where ya wan it, mac?" asked the man at the head of the log.

The ancient one gestured toward the fireplace. "With the engraving up so folks can see it please, at least for a while," Chac1 requested.

The workmen did as instructed, heaving the log on to the fire with a lot of noise and a shower of sparks. The stencil on the log had the year written on it: 2024. Under that were some runes: ᚷᛟᛟᛞᛒᛁᛖ ᚨᚾᛞ ᚷᛟᛟᛞ ᚱᛁᛞᛞᚨᚾᚲᛖ.

The ancient one handed each workman a tip and waved at them as they left.

He looked around the room, sensing there might be some disapproval.

"Look, it's the first night of Jul and we have to at least mark that," he noted. "As the author of a Norse AAR or two, I hope you understand."

Then he went to the jukebox. "This one isn't perfect but it has the right solstice mood," he noted.

"Ring Out These Bells (Ring Out, Solstice Bells)" by Ian Anderson & others

With a smile on his face, the ancient one returned to his comfy leather chair, sipped the last of the Woo drink, and resumed reading one of the two tomes he had left on his holiday list.

 

[coz1]

coz1 notices a lull on the jukebox and slides over to press for the next song, "This was one of my favorites as a young fella..."

 

[DensleyBlair]

DB hums along approvingly.

– Excellent choice, @coz1. And a wonderfully awkward relic of television; Bing evidently has no idea who Bowie is or why they’re being made to sing together. Fantastic.

 

[StrategyGameEnthusiast]

Mr. SGE teleports back to the bAAR.

He declares "Happy holidays everyone".

Then he teleports away again.

 

[Chac1]

The ancient one was still reading. He had finished with many of the suggestions, but he was still working on one tome and he had found one additional one that he had forgotten. So many pages still to read, not just for the holidays but also for the awAARds ballots. He looked up from his reading just as @StrategyGameEnthusiast teleported away.

"A shy one, that one," Chac1 noted.

He was very pleased with the musical selection from @coz1 and the funny comments from @DensleyBlair . "Hard to top those," Chac1 shook his head.

He had gone back to drinking warm cider after finishing off the one Woo drink. Too much alcohol will make me nod off and I don't want that with all this reading to do, he thought as he reviewed his choices for the jukebox. Then he snapped his fingers and punched in his selection.

"2000 Miles" by The Pretenders

"Let's see if that helps us keep this low key reading party going until the big day," Chac1 declared before turning back to the thick books he was reading and his cider.

 

[DensleyBlair]

– One of my all-time favourites that one, @Chac1, and amazingly one I’ve not heard yet this year. Very good of you to bless our ears with it.

Something buzzes faintly on DB’s sidetable, underneath a pile of books sprawled open at various pages.

– Ah, and I see you’ve just read Redadder’s Christmas Carol too. Glad you enjoyed it! I think it just about still stands up…

 

[Lord Durham]

LD nurses his drink as he remains slumped in the Comfy Chair™, enjoying the selection of Christmas tunes and the fine job @Chac1 has done keeping the bAAR alive over the past few days. With a pause in the music, he tosses another selection, a favourite of his.

 

[DensleyBlair]

DB raises a hot chocolate in toast from the fireside chair.

– Happy Christmas to all celebrating today!

 

[Chac1]

The ancient one's heart was warmed by all the fine music playing in the bAAR over the past few days. What pleased him most of all was how the community had kept the celebrations going through Christmas. Surely, it was a rather small group, but he was not trying to be greedy in these assessments. About a dozen folks was just fine, if their sentiments were deep and authentic as these were this year, he reasoned to himself. In his estimation, this was a fine showing for AARland.

With purpose he went behind the counter and poured himself a large tumbler of his favorite mezcal, then he returned to his spot near the fire and cracked open one of the two remaining books by his side. "Still some holiday reading to do gents, and even a few chapters left in my catch up from the summer," he noted as he took a swig of his favorite.

"Not sure we have the energy to keep this going for another week, but we can widen out to some songs for the New Year's party now, I think," he added.

With that he set down his drink, gathered his robes and scuttled off to the jukebox to make the next selection.

"Take Me Out" by Franz Ferdinand

 

[Chac1]

"Oops," Chac1 immediately said as the song finished. "Almost forgot...."

– Ah, and I see you’ve just read Redadder’s Christmas Carol too. Glad you enjoyed it! I think it just about still stands up…

"Yes, indeed, I did enjoy that one. It does stand up. Thank you @DensleyBlair . I'm sure most of the jokes flew over my head, as most jokes tend to do, but mostly because I only have a general idea about British politics, and then there's the issue of my IQ, but I won't drag everyone into that one," Chac1 prattled on.

And then he asked, before returning to his drink and his books: "So what's next?"

 

[Chac1]

The ancient one shook his head. He seemed to have dozed off over one of the books he was reading.

"Hmmmmm, still two volumes to go and then there's this scroll with a list of Stellaris stories I missed too," he muttered under his breath.

The jukebox had long been quiet. All the various sports games on the magic screens were now showing highlights of games from earlier. It was late in Detroit, although some bars were definitely still open. Other parts of the world were just awakening. He could hear others snoring in their comfy seats by the fire, and even some loud log sawing coming from the rooms tucked away upstairs and in other spots near the barroom. The holiday party had lost all of its energy. The folks who weren't sleeping (after reading so much because not much alcoholic consumption had really happened) had all drifted off to other spots in AARland.

"Well, it was too much to hope that this would keep going until the new year, at least we had a great holiday party. Very pleasing," he thought.

He found one of the magic devices with a spinner (he remembered people called it "a timer") and attached it correctly to the magic boxes showing the sports highlights so they would all dim and go out in a few minutes. He gathered his tomes, hoping @Lord Durham would let him borrow them from the Inkwell. Then he went to the jukebox to punch in one song that would make good his exit but not awaken the few sleepers who remained. He adjusted the volume on the jukebox, just to make sure it wasn't too loud. The song played as he left the bar.

"Good-bye Yellow Brick Road" covered by The Royal Philharmonic Orchestra

 

[DensleyBlair]

DB charges his class with an interesting lemon-and-mint-based mixture of some sort and raises it in toast to all present, visible and otherwise.

– Only a couple of hours to go here in Britain, so I may as well say it now: a very happy and peaceful New Year to you all. I’m sorry I was not able to enjoy the delights of AARland as much in 2024 as I have in previous years, but I’m glad to see the place still going strong, and I know I’ve got plenty to be catching up with as we move into 2025. Cheers!

 

[TheExecuter]

The mid-afternoon light streamed through the frost-laced windows of the classically appointed bar, casting a warm glow across the polished mahogany and brass fixtures, a stark contrast to the frigid scene outside. The man, now in his mid-forties, had returned to the very barstool where he had penned his youthful verses and debated the mysteries of the universe with fellow seekers of truth. The crackling fireplace and the muted clinking of glasses against the backdrop of a vintage Sinatra melody filled the room with an ambiance of timelessness. It was as if the very fabric of the bar had been woven with threads of his past, each knot holding a memory of late-night laughter and early-morning epiphanies. The football game on the telly flickered with the vibrant colors of modernity, yet the timeless rhythm of the game seemed to echo the cadences of his heart as it had done countless times before. He had been drawn back here, not merely by nostalgia, but by an insatiable thirst to complete the literary odyssey he had embarked upon so many years ago, before the siren call of domesticity had lured him away.

The patina of time had not diminished the allure of this sanctuary of spirits and stories. The faces had changed, but the essence remained the same—the same yearning for connection, the same thirst for knowledge, the same hope for a brush with greatness or at least the illusion of it. He felt the weight of his responsibilities momentarily lift as he sipped his whiskey, the amber liquid a warm embrace that whispered of forgotten freedoms and untold adventures. The scent of aged oak and cigar smoke wafted through the air, a ghostly reminder of the countless tales that had been born and extinguished within these very walls. The bar was a living archive, a bastion of human emotion that had seen love and loss, triumph and despair, and had borne silent witness to the quiet moments of introspection that had shaped the lives of its patrons.

The man's gaze wandered to the well-worn notebook that lay open before him, its pages filled with the scrawling script of his younger self. Each word a testament to the boundless optimism of youth, each line a promise unfulfilled. Yet, as he read, he felt not regret but a renewed sense of purpose. The years had tempered his idealism, seasoning it with the wisdom of experience. He knew now that the true measure of a life lay not in the grandeur of its ambitions but in the quiet moments of love and companionship. The pages held the seeds of his past, but it was the rich soil of the present that would allow them to bloom.

With each word he wrote, he felt a piece of himself that had been lost over the years of marriage and fatherhood return to him. The words flowed as freely as they had when he was a young man with nothing but time and dreams. Yet, he was not the same person who had left this place; he was a man who had loved deeply and been loved in return, who had tasted the bitterness of regret and the sweetness of forgiveness. His heart swelled with a profound sense of gratitude for the woman who shares his life, for the children who fill it with joy, and for the friends who had never truly let him go.

The bar, once a symbol of his youthful rebellion and boundless potential, had become a bastion of comfort, a place where he could reconcile the man he was with the man he had been. As the New Year's Day crowd grew more boisterous, their laughter and camaraderie blending with the crackling fire, he made a silent resolution to balance his twin loves—his family and his art. He would write not just for himself, but for them, weaving their stories into his own. He would read the pages of his life with the same eager anticipation he once reserved for his favorite novels, and he would listen to the whispers of the bar, allowing its timeless wisdom to guide him as he set forth to complete the narrative he had so long neglected.

The man raises his glass and makes a silent toast to the patrons currently involved in celebrating the New Year. May 2025 be a joyful and peaceful experience for each of us. May our muse be easy and our ideas exceptional. I look forward to sharing this time with you all.

 

[coz1]

coz1 leans to the bAAR with a smile and nods with approval, "I know exactly how you feel, @TheExecuter, and though I've never really left...these walls have been home for many, many years. A lot of water under that bridge and much change in my life and so too the many members of this place. When I found AARland, it was not even called that and I was still in my late 20s. I turn 52 in March. So many of us have a similar journey and I love to hear them every time."

The scent of aged oak and cigar smoke wafted through the air

"And by the way, this is a lovely turn of the prose," he nods again, "Though mine be not cigar."

He swiftly pulls the champagne flutes from under the counter and pops several bottles of Veuve, "Only the best for this crew and only the best for all of us in the new year! Let us make 2025 the best year yet for AARland and help many others find the same warm spirit that we have found lo these many years!"

"And don't forget, we are not quite done with 2024. Head on over and make sure your vote counts in the The 2024 Yearly AARland Year-end AwAARds. 8 votes so far both partial and full. We hit 28 voters last year and only a month left to go. Vote, vote, vote!"

coz notes a disapproving eye from @Lord Durham as the champs is snagged and empty bottles are tossed to the bin, "Fear not, LD. We all know @Storey is good for it. Just put it on his tab as always."

 

[Lord Durham]

LD accepts a drink from @coz1 and gives nod. "Thanks. I know @Storey won't mind. Even though the tab's been running for years, we know he's good for it." Regarding the faces around the bAAR, both old and new, he raises his glass in salutation. "Cheers, folks." Leaning close to @coz1, he says, "I see you noticed the New Years announcement in the public forum. That's for the benefit of those who don't frequent, or haven't discovered the bAAR. I'll be curious if there's any uptake on the thread. In the past there would have been, so I guess we'll see. Oh, and your comment about AARland had me digging around to find out when that title was first used. It turns out it was originally uttered by a fellow named 'doc' (now unmerged) way back on July 4, 2001. Now, how about a refill?"

 

[TheExecuter]

"And by the way, this is a lovely turn of the prose," he nods again, "Though mine be not cigar."

He swiftly pulls the champagne flutes from under the counter and pops several bottles of Veuve, "Only the best for this crew and only the best for all of us in the new year! Let us make 2025 the best year yet for AARland and help many others find the same warm spirit that we have found lo these many years!"

Thanks.

Though, the man wonders who is smoking the cigar, as smoking is something his weaker lungs never could tolerate.

Even though he still has a tumbler of whiskey, the man gratefully accepts a glass of Veuve...he being never one to turn down a glass of champagne.

He worries that he will be able to remain sober enough to drive home, as his wife generally dislikes his behavior when hung over...

 

[TheExecuter]

The mid-40s man, whom the patrons did not know well, had transformed into an unexpected proposer of historical AAR ideas. His whisky-soaked words painted a picture of an AAR tracking the path of one Hans von Dohnanyi, a man of valor and intellect, navigating the treacherous waters of political subversion. The patina of the drunk's youth had faded, but the fire in his eyes had not been extinguished by the march of time. His audience grew as the whispers of his tale spread, each person drawn to the seductive dance of 'what ifs' and 'might have beens'. The man's voice grew stronger with each sip, his enthusiasm unbridled by the weight of the subject. He spoke of a world where one could rewrite the dark chapters of history, not with a quill but with cunning use of the HOI 2 political sliders. Could the player manage to manipulate Germany out of a government led by Hitler before too much evil had occurred? The catch being that as long as Hitler was Head of State or Head of Government, the player would have to behave historically in game.

The concept was both fascinating and troubling to those who listened. The gravity of this theme was not lost on them. The challenge he proposed was not merely to win a game, but to confront the very essence of human nature, to dare to resist the siren call of power and the seductive embrace of evil. The difficulty in telling this tale, however, would lie in the forum rules surrounding the inevitable outcome of a story based on resistance to the NSDAP. After all, without the 'why' underpinning the resistance...how could the tale be told successfully?

The man's narrative grew richer as he delved deeper into the complexities of Dohnanyi's character, a man who had seen the beast of fascism from the inside and had chosen to fight it. He spoke of the quiet dignity of the resistance, the invisible heroes who had worked tirelessly in the shadows to bring down the regime. His words were a reminder that history was not a series of inevitable events but a tapestry of choices, each thread woven by individuals who dared to stand against the tide of tyranny. The whisky had loosened his tongue, but it had also unlocked a wellspring of emotion and wisdom.

The whispers grew into a murmur of contemplation as the man's AAR ideas began to be intertwined with gameplay strategy. He spoke with an authority that transcended his inebriated state, his eyes flickering with a sobering intensity. The bar, once alive with the chatter of the mundane and the clinking of ice against crystal, had become a sanctum of intellectual discourse, a bastion of 'what could have been' amidst the cacophony of 'what is'. The man leaned into the bar, his elbows supporting the weight of his convictions. "Consider," he began, "the delicate balance of power, the intricate dance of alliances, and the cunning ploys required to orchestrate a coup d'état that maintains the soul of a nation. This is not a simple quest for victory points, but a testament to the indomitable human spirit."

His voice grew softer, yet more compelling, as he shared a second story idea within the confines of Victoria 2's gameplay. Each sip of whisky seemed to fuel his imagination, his narrative weaving a gameplay guide with a narrative story about potentially changing the course of history. It was as if the man had become a modern-day prophet, speaking of a parallel world where the fate of nations was decided not by the whims of a madman, but by the calculated moves of a single player. What if, a survivor of the chaos in China in the 1940s was able to travel back in time (either through technological or ghostly means) to influence the Daoguang Emperor and subsequent rulers? Most players believed that it was impossible to make it through Victoria 2 playing a regime like the Qing Dynasty without suffering massive rebellions...yet, with an understanding of how population militancy and game economics intertwine, it might be possible to prevent the loss of the Mandate of Heaven and change the course of Chinese history.

The man took a final sip from his glass and set it down with a gentle thud. "The beauty of this game," he said, his voice carrying a hint of wistfulness, "is that it lets you touch the fabric of history, to feel the tension of each thread, to understand the consequences of our actions, or inaction. It's not just about winning; it's about the journey, about growing as a player, as a historian, and perhaps...as a human being."

With that, he pushed back his stool and stood, swaying slightly. The patrons watched as he stumbled towards the door, leaving behind a trail of unanswered questions and the lingering scent of his whisky-laden breath. Yet, in that brief moment, he had offered them a glimpse into the heart of games that were so much more than pixels and code—they were a mirror reflecting the capacity for change within themselves.

 

[coz1]

coz1 tamps his heater to the ashtray and waves away the lingering smoke as he smiles, "Love the work you are doing @TheExecuter and if anyone has not seen it, there is at least one new work in Darkest Hour...Insanely Stronk! - A Totally True Tale of How Stalin's Stronk Weapons Totally Changed the World! Some of us cannot help but write a couple. Not to be confused with the longstanding Last Mission, a wonderful rejuvenation of a long gestating AAR back with a vengeance."

He invites @Lord Durham over to him with a last glass of champagne and points, "Stories are never dead, Bruce. If one wants to write...they write. Right?"