[Inkspot] But you have that lovely lolly in the bank and a little 'greenbacks' symbol next to your name. If you're so good, you can jolly well do it all over again!

I'll get you Evil_edna!!!

[FurryBB] *cackle*

I would feel left out, but I think I still have a few shares left in my Foresight Exchange account...

[Celebdaq] No Paul Merton? Star of stage, screen, and radio; BAFTA winner . . . and not available for trade? FEH!

feh, indeed!

[Celebdaq] No Kate Bush either, and she's always in the news, what with her constant output of new music and naughty late night partying. Ha!

What a pallaver! After that rather nasty hacking effort I've managed to recover (thanks to the Google cache and gil) most of what was going on here. Three games suffer breaks in the space-time continuum: this one (we're missing the discussion of the Furcation Game, which needn't be a tragedy); two lines of a limerick are missing; and an unspecified number of lies have gone. (No they haven't). Also, the timestamps on recovered moves have all been set to the notional recovery time; but seeing as these are only fleetingly displayed on the front page, we can probably live without that. Next job: instigate rolling backups, I think.

[rab] Hurrah!!

Apologies for the tumbleweed. As I remarked at MCiOS, so sooner had I wielded my magic wand and managed to get roughly back how we were, did the new server develop a hardware fault. Losing, you guessed it, any moves in the brief period we were back online. Since these probably number about three, I think we can pretend these never happened without any space-time paradoxes setting in.

Good that worked! Right, as to the future. When I return to the office tomorrow, I will install some stuff on the machines there that will not only back this thing up daily, but also allow me to restore from anywhere in the world, rather than rely on my laptop being (a) with me and (b) near a phone socket. This means that if there are any failures between now and, say, tomorrow morning, there's not much I can do. After that, this site always be able to stay alive as long as I do. If more problems occur, I shall consider moving to a more upscale hosting company that has downtime guarantees (or should that be uptime guarantees?). I'm hoping, however, that this is very much a one-off occurrence.

And I would say I had a nice weekend if it weren't for the fact I had all this shite to deal with, and I chundered for the first time in 6 years on Sunday. Nice. However, it was about 90% my fault.

Glad you are back.

[Rab] I trust that whatever celebrations caused you to chunder were well worth the consequences ;o)

[pen] Well... only just. I think it was largely due to some friends of a friend having just got back from Spain and insisting that I drink something that came out of a plastic container of the type you might use to package creosote. Maybe it was creosote. It certainly wasn't very drinkable. Nevertheless, I drank it... and when popping into my parents for coffee the next day, decided to stay not just for an hour but two days to recover. Yum. So if you see me on Saturday, remind me to avoid the noxious end of the beverage spectrum.

We missed you

*blushes*. Now go forth and get the dates changed on the front page!

Right, probably safe to come back in, then, and make again my suggestion for a new game that was lost the other day. Is anyone on for a round of Collective Consciousness Hangman, in which one person sets a conventional hangman problem, but only other players are allowed to reveal the letters or add lines to the scaffold.

Other players take guesses in turn as to which letters are in the word. The players who arbitrate over what letters are in the word are not allowed to confer. The shape of the word can only emerge through tacit mutual consent - via, in other words, the collective consciousness. Ask Kevan to explain more about this.

Playing it in Dan's chatroom the other day we realised it was a sort of metaphor for the designoid nature of evolution, akin to the passage from Richard Dawkins' The Blind Watchmaker where he uses "blind selection" to arrive at the Shakespearian phrase "METHINKS IT IS LIKE A WEASEL". Possibly I had eaten too much chocolate cake at that point, however.