NCSoft hears us, responds with shower of urine it assures us is rain

So, five weeks after summarily canning the dev team and arbitrarily deciding to kill the game, NCSoft wants us to know that they HEAR us, and they VALUE us.....but not enough to DO ANYTHING other than issue a platitude-heavy press release that boils down to this:

Which is about what I expected.

We don't know what their motivations were in killing a profitable game with a spectacularly loyal playerbase, but they weren't monetary, or not primarily monetary.  I'm no business genius, but the time to sell something is BEFORE you shut it down, not after.

They've been our enemy since the announcement and our enemy they remain.

I'll keep fighting to the end and then will be lending my talents to whatever spiritual successor the Titan Network crew decides on.

Naysaying Addendum

Via Twitter, an amusing commentary on the phenomena of the Naysayer from Patton Oswalt, who I regularly refer to as "the one man justification for Twitter".  His rant focuses primarily on voter apathy, but the motivations on display bear a striking resemblance to the community heckling aimed at Save CoH activists.

Please read the whole thing, because he's a terrific writer and it is a funny piece chockablock with valuable insights, but here is the key graf r/e #SaveCoH & my previous post:

They did a pretty good job, in the end, of getting people to register to vote. It was a noble, goofy, hopeful effort. In the face of a lot of fashionable indifference, there was action. It’s the reason I cry at weddings. Not because the occasion is so beautiful and touching – it’s the fact that, in the face of the insane divorce rate, and all the nay-sayers, there’s still two people saying, “fuck it.” It’s the eternal Huck Finn, tearing up his letter to Miss Watson, and saying, “All right then, I’ll go to hell.” It’s Morris Buttermaker in The Bad News Bears, deciding to coach a Little League team that everyone’s given up on. And it’s the housewives and hustlers, elders and outcasts, punching a fucking card in a smelly school auditorium somewhere, still believing in this wheezing, broken juggernaut of a country.

Amen.


I'll always down fighting, however overwhelming the odds and unlikely the chance of making a difference, instead of rolling over and letting circumstance step all over me.

Because why, dear readers?
Let's shout it all together: