Solipsism is defined as the theory that the self is the only reality.  There is no word for solipsism when it's no longer just a theory.  I'd ask one of you to invent one, but since I'm the only non-imaginary resident of the universe, I suppose I'll have to do it myself.  I've always suspected nobody else was real.  If even a few of you were real, I'd have some feelings for at least one of you, wouldn't I?  Sympathy, empathy, some damn thing.   And to those of you I've invented for the sole purpose of telling me that I do have those feelings but just don't recognize them:  I know sympathy - I feel sorry for myself a lot.  I'll often shoot myself off a few sympathy e-cards - sometimes as many as thirty in one day.  This one is my favorite because the chinese symbol probably means something like "eat shit" and that makes me feel even worse, which gives me more reason to pass the time - what I now realize is most likely an eternity - by writing myself a few more sympathy e-cards.

What finally convinced me that my suspicions about the nature of reality are true?  Everything that I wish for happens.  I wanted Lord British to pay for Ultima IX, and he did.  I wanted Daikatana to stink, and it does.  I wanted Paul Steed to crash his private plane into the woods where it would flip over and he'd become stuck upside down, wedged in the cockpit window he'd partially smashed through.  He wouldn't die, but would just hang there as all the fluids and organs in his body slowly settled into the space between his scalp and skull.  After a few weeks, his head would look like an over-inflated water balloon out of which his withered body was sticking straight up - like a tootsie-pop.  Everyone would wonder "what happened to Paul Steed?"  A few people would look for him, but it would be The Mushroom's Kevin Murphy who'd actually find him.  Paul Steed would see Murphy approaching and would try to say "Dude, don't touch my head!"  But his mouth would be so dry that he'd barely be able to speak.  "Dooooooooooooooooo" is all he'd manage to croak before Murphy gingerly pressed an index finger against the swollen head, popped it, and drowned beneath a tidal wave of Steed's rancid fluids. 

That didn't happen.   But only because I later ammended the wish to be that my dreaded arch-enemy Steed would be put somewhere where he'd pose no threat to my favorite make-believe person, Adrian Carmack, and that Murphy would quit The Mushroom to work somewhere even worse, like Gamepro.   As you know, Steed was fired.  What you might not have heard is that the dust hadn't even resettled on the places where Steed's trophies and Corvette pictures had been before Kevin Murphy announced his retirement.  Am I God or what?  What will I do next?  How does "Game developer Jason Hall exiled to moon" strike you?  Not that it matters.

I also wanted a new Doom.   It should come as no surprise at this point that I got it.  It's called Serious Sam and it's being developed by a group in Croatia.  The amazingly fun demo - which I guess in Croatian is called an Alpha Test - is available on Croteam's home page.  I'd kind of forgotten what it's like to have pure, adrenaline pumping fun while playing a game.  Mike Wilson should postpone his public search for Steed and instead make sure Croteam gets into the U.S. before one of those talented kids steps on a landmine