“There is nothing either good
or bad but thinking makes it so …”
So say’s Shakespeare’s young Hamlet with regards to friends, home, life.
“… I could be bounded in a nutshell, and count myself a
king of infinite space ...”
… and so it is with “Club Never Die.”
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I had nearly fallen asleep when the ship finally docked at B1-L1, my first trip to Club Never Die. Sitting in the weapons officer’s chair is about as boring as it gets in the absence of hostile contact, and with the way Freyr fly’s you’d never know you’ve left the planet. After all, he’s the best pilot I know, knows how to navigate the route without being noticed, and parks the fighter like landing on pillows.
“Here we are peeps,” he hollers out. “It’s time to have some fun.”
We walked from the hanger to the docking stations teleporter. B1-L1 was a great parking spot, and we were at the command center in a matter of minutes. Central command was bustling with activity: Sales, Survival Stock, Transport and Manufacturing. The colors were nice too, white marblyst and glistening hardened alloy, the sheen of brand new crafting terminals. This was a drastic change from Crystal Command, yet I remained unimpressed.
Then I moved on to the fertilization station and was immediately abased. To see the inner workings of a 20 dual-capacity dome space station is a sight to behold, and I had now become thoroughly impressed, where I had not been before. I looked into the DNA entries for the domes, switching tabs to see the manifold beasts that have been transported here, and I could only imagine the vast quantities of fertilizer that it must take to maintain even the most modest of production levels.
I raced myself back to the teleporter, ignoring the remainder of the command center, and instantly transported myself to the closest dome on the top of the TP list: Dome 1 North. While I had not been affected much by the view of outer-space from Central Command, I was now completely beside myself. I could not believe the meticulous craftsmanship or the intense amounts of time that went into this architectural creation and with what detail the view of our world had been taken into consideration when designing the roof-top. This was a great sight for a set of sore eyes that had seen the domes of Crystal Palace station more times than enough.
I had to do something, anything to make the flavor from this trip all the more sweet. I dropped a probe. Nothing. A bomb, and nothing again. That was ok though, I was just glad to see them working in outer-space, and I knew I had plenty of time to dial-in the high-density calibrations later. I drew my AS-147 and went for a little walk, took out a few mobs and found some nice loots. That was a refreshing change from Crystal as well.
When I finally decided to complete the tour, I TP’ed to the Main Complex. Both the foyer and the main hall were similar to the command center, but the Main Complex itself was like nothing I’ve ever seen, or will likely see again. I could not type, I could not speak, I could do nothing but stare for nearly 5 minutes. Atop a globe of Calypso sits a model of “The Exodus,” the space ship that left the planet Earth and founded this solar system of ours, and around that globe swirls mock-ups of the planets moons and the asteroid where sits this great monument. Even the view from the aforementioned domes is humiliated by the awesome sight of the Main Complex, our sun above and our beloved planet with its real moons plain to see.
I found it hard to leave, but there was more to see. I walked about the complex and found some booths, nice looking, but not that interesting. The primary passageways that meander the asteroid, and joined the Apartments and the Disco to the Main Complex, were very interesting and provided a view to the asteroid surface that was similar in character to the view of outer-space: Breathtaking, but I had to return to the complex. I had to stare some more.
I sat there for some time, in silence again, contemplating the capacity and scale of the Exodus model, looking at the stars and the novi, admiring once again the view of our planet from this great distance. I was admiring things once more as I had done when I first joined Project Entropia. I was once again in a place that I had not been for some time. Not a place on Earth, or In-Game, or any other tangible area known to man or beast. It was a state of mind and a place of heart. I was once again happy to have joined PE, and I felt once more that I was a part of something special, however small that part may be.
I looked to the south, and there stood an avatar in as much pious contemplation as I was. I knew not how long he was there, but I stared for some time and knew that he was thoroughly fixated on something: probably the same things I had been focused on.
“Hi,” I said shyly, like a child born of Port Atlantis again.
“Hey, nice view huh?” he replied.
All the emotions that had been rushing through me could no longer be held back, and I blurted, “Shakespeare once wrote, ‘If I were bond up in a nutshell I could count myself a king of infinite space.’ … cND is that nutshell my friend.”
“aye, it is.”
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I’d like to thank everyone for their comments and reviews that have been posted in many a forum: Through their insight into cND and their reviews of what they’ve seen, I was motivated to take the trip and see for myself. I’d like to thank MindArk for designing such a work of revolutionary art and beauty, and for making me believe in our way of life again. Above all else and above all others, I’d like to thank NeverDie for having the level of commitment needed to invest and maintain such an intense gaming responsibility: without whom none of this would be possible.
The Nutshell
Beta South 2D, Shop No 56, 
Linear Mode
