A Fantasy Tale by Craig Murray - #1

While we're all waiting for MAW, I feel compelled to share the most unusual daydream that I had.

Part 1: In the Desert
Light ... piercing, stabbing, blinding light. Slowly, I regain consciousness, finding myself in the middle of a strange desert. I look up again at the flickering sun (is the sun supposed to flicker?). It creeps across the sky ... and then back again ... and then forward again. It's painfully bright and the heat is ... about room temperature, oddly enough. This is a very strange desert.

Staggering to my feet, images flash through my mind of the moments before I arrived here. An e-mail from some guy at Netwings with a name like Pomeranian - something about a Fairey Battle Turret Trainer - and the next moment I was here.

In the distance, I see a mirage of sorts. As I move closer, it increases in steps (probably increasing LODs or levels of detail). It's a huge stone building complete with a courtyard, stone walls, and double iron gates. Out front, there's a circular fountain with a palm tree planter.

Part 2: The Gates
The gates swing open and I'm greeted with a hearty "Welcome to the world of the Mediterranean Air War" by a portly gentlemen, my guide for this visit. "You've picked an odd way to come in." he continues, "Most just come in through the private forum." He motions upwards to a tower that looks like something out of a fairy tale. It pierces the clouds - very nice clouds I should mention. I can see gleeful MAW-ers (I'm not yet sure what the locals are called) floating downwards, each of them eagerly looking forward to another session in this wonderful world. At the same time, I can see other chaps being dragged back up by long grappling hooks, entreated by spouses and other busybodies to return to the world of work, school, family, and other such nonsense.

"Come inside. Let me show you around." He says, motioning towards the gate. We stroll past the iron bars, each glinting with a pleasant specular sheen. Actually, just about everything seems covered with a specular haze - must be from the same texture sheet. Somebody has written some graffiti on the inside of the walls - "MOS WAS HERE" - and then it disappears - and now it says "NOSEART FOR RENT". Yet another mystery.

Part3: The Tower
My guide informs me that the spiraling tower is the Grand Tower of Netwings. On closer examination, I notice that the tower wavers ever so slightly in the wind. Also, I notice that the higher parapets are ringed by what look like small, bulging canvas bags. "Excuse me," I remark, "but this tower seems to teeter. Is it safe?" Cheerfully, my guide replies "Everything is just fine. But every now and again, the tower seems on the verge of toppling over. We usually put things right by balancing it off with extra bags of cash."

Part 4: The Main Hallway
Moving through the double-doors at the entrance (mirrored clones I suspect) I find myself in the expansive main hallway. It's huge - almost like a museum or something. In fact, there are display cases lining both walls and these are interspersed with doors, pillars, and other relics of classic architecture.

On closer inspection, I see that the display cases hold various MAW teasers; I recognize them from various posts at Sim-Outhouse and Netwings. However, they aren't actual models. In fact, they're nothing more than papier-mâché mockups, rubber bands, tongue depressors. Explanations are posted nearby, each of them gleefully explaining how, for example, ordinary cinnamon buns were arranged, photographed, and then passed off as a beta version of Taranto harbour. About half of the teasers relate to MAW's delivery date. It seems to be a running gag. Overall, it seems that MAW'ers have a great sense of humour. I suspect that they're probably responsible for more than a few UFO sightings too.

Part 5: The Nightclub
To my left are a set of double-doors (why are they always double?) leading to what seems like a nightclub of sorts. The unmistakable blaring of euro-techno (possibly middle-eastern?) pours into the hallway. “This is the special effects room” my guide explains. Inside, the dance floor is packed with people getting down to the music while overhead the darkness is punctuated by flashes, pops, sounds of gunfire, and various other audio and visual effects. The DJ is some guy who darts about like a quick, brown …. I can’t quite make it out.

Part 6: The Lounge
Across the hall, in stark contrast to the nightclub, there is an immense lounge area, littered with overstuffed chairs, barstools, a fountain or two, and a gigantic marble fireplace. It's plush and well appointed. Its inhabitants – painters I'm told – fill the immense room. They mill about freely, swapping stories over snifters of brandy. Easels crowd the walkways and everyone seems to have a few works in progress. The walls are covered with original artwork … no, wait, those aren't originals, those are all repaints. There are dozens of variations on different themes: Mona Lisa with glasses, Mona Lisa with blonde hair, Mona Lisa with freckles. The repetition is staggering. Even the wallpaper has been repainted.

A metal cylinder pops out of a brass tube near the fireplace and a minor brawl ensues. Painters fight savagely over the cylinder, which apparently contains the wireframe mapping (a template to help with texture design) for a new MAW model. The emerging victor, a sturdy Italian fellow with a name like “axle” clutches the prize but the battle quickly subsides when he reveals “Another virtual cockpit!?!?” The cylinder drops to the floor. My guide explains, “Most of these guys thrive on the external views.” The lonely cylinder rolls to a halt near one of the fountains but it is eventually rescued by a charitable painter.

A few of the painters return to their work, and many of them are puzzling over other wireframes. “This guy", one painter remarks to another referring to the modeler, "says to use the elevator surface to map both of the elevators plus the landing gear bay!” Another retorts, “Poly-pushers! It's just like them.”

Part 7: The Laboratory
Further up the main hallway is a heavy oak door, which opens into a laboratory of sorts. It swings open (precisely 50% of the way) but then seems to compress as it moves to 75% and then 100%. I also notice a slight damping effect. Inside the laboratory, the walls and floor are rough-hewn stone but the room is generously appointed with simple wooden tables, chairs, and desks. Near the tables are boxes of bird feathers – eagles', doves', crows', pigeons' – and I can see various Da Vinci-esque drawings of strange contraptions here and there. Later, I learn that the feathers are used to inspire spin patterns. The room has an eerie Harry Potter feeling to it.

I'm startled as a giant grizzly bear snarls at me. Fortunately, he is chained to the wall. Behind him are the skeletal remains of some poor soul. I can just make out the “I [heart] Oleg” design on the tattered remains of a t-shirt. “Mind what you say to the bear,” cautions my guide, “he has less than a 1% tolerance for fools.” In an adjoining room, there are filing cabinets with mysterious labels like P-51, P-47, Bf-109, Hurricane, and other notable aircraft of WWII. An entire wall is devoted to Spitfires.

Hanging from high above, I see another poor soul locked in what appears to be a giant bird cage. On the floor, beneath the cage, is a pile of papers; at intervals, a paper spirals elegantly downwards. I examine one. These papers appear to be the completed flight models for many of the MAW aircraft. “Omigosh! What did he do to earn such cruel punishment?” I ask the portly guide. “He volunteered to do our flight models” he replies.

Part 8: The Dungeon
At the end of the main hallway are two sets of spiral staircases. One leads straight up to the Grand Tower of Netwings. The other leads downstairs. My guide grabs a nearby lantern and we proceed downwards. After an uncertain number of twists and turns, we emerge on the dank basement floor.

I peer through the iron bars into one of the cells. At the far end, a grizzled bearded fellow is fiddling with what looks like a tinker toy. At intervals, he peers confoundedly at some fuzzy black and white photos. “This is one of our model-builders”, explains the guide. “We lock them away for years at a time until they earn their freedom.” "How many models do they have to build?" I ask. "We're happy if we get one" comes the reply.

Other modelers are locked in nearby cells. Most are absorbed in their work, but I catch a snippet of a conversation whispered cautiously between two of the cells:

“Pssst. I've been working on this P-38 model for two years and I just realized that I forgot to twin the tail. Should I start from scratch?”
“Good heavens, that will take forever! Just map the silhouette of the tail to the wireframe sheet. I'm sure that the painters will figure out how to make it look right.”

Relieved by the redemptive power of the painters, the haggard figure calls out, “I'm done mapping my model. Can I come out now?” The modeler presents my guide with a contorted tinker toy contraption that vaguely resembles an airplane. He eagerly waves the accompanying wireframe sheet, his sure ticket to freedom. My guide shrugs and unlocks the cell door, whereupon the modeler places the sheet in one of the familiar metal cylinders, plunks it in a vacuum pipe, and scampers upstairs without a word.

“Have you done any CFS3 modeling before?” inquires my guide quite innocently. “No!” I reply abruptly and emphatically, as I survey the newly vacated cell and calculate the grisly equilibrium that must be satisfied; an empty cell demands another modeler. Disappointed, my guide leads me back upstairs.

Part 9: The Exit
"Well, I suppose it's back to the desert with me, huh?" I inquire of my guide quite reluctantly. After this whirlwind tour, I was hoping to linger a bit and get a better appreciation of everything. After all, MAW encompasses so many different components. I can barely appreciate each element on its own much less imagine the experience when it all comes together.

"The desert?" my guide laughs, "we can do better than that!" Something pulls at the back of my shirt, a sharp tug, and I'm drifting upwards - along with the other reluctant souls who must part company with this magical world.

"But you still haven't told me when the release date is!" I plead. I can see him laughing - as he dissolves into LOD_70, LOD_50, LOD_25 …

The End – Daydream #1