For those of you who weren’t following Twitter this morning, the internet was agog with news that Archive.org’s MS-DOS project made it possible to play pretty much any computer game of your childhood.
Prince of Persia and The Lion King and anything that will give you a hardcore nostalgia boner is now online. Me being me, I decided to spend my first hour at work taking the Oregon Trail from Independence, Missouri to … well, you’ll just have to keep reading.
I chose to be a banker from Boston, because unlike carpenter or farmer, that seemed to most align with the useless set of skills I’ve developed as a blogger, ones that would have no actual utility when we hit the trail. For my compatriots in crossing the country, I chose my BroBible editors.
I could only pick five, so sorry Cass, Chris and Doug. This is BroBible OG on the OT. As for when to leave, April. Always April.
Let’s hit the General Store. Is Matt smoking hash? You bet your ass Matt is smoking hash.
All real men own multiple sets of oxen and multiple sets of clothes. Give ’em to me all.
Look at all that extra paper cash I have. That will come in handy in the middle of nowhere Idaho in late October. Maybe I can use it as kindling for fire like in Cliffhanger.
On to Oregon! Plot plot trot trot here we go.
We’re on a steady pace since we’re a bunch of bloggers. Strenuous and grueling are not in our lexicon. As for rations, I have a literal ton of food. Eat up. We successfully took the ferry at the Kansas River, but had less luck fjording the Big Blue.
BroBible managing editor J Camm died. He’s alright with it, though.
— J.Camm (@JCamm_) January 6, 2015
Plus, he was dead weight. Dude carries nail clippers everywhere he goes. Can’t have that slowing you down on the rough plains of Kansas. Ahh, a cuticle. Still, we lost some food. Time to hunt.
SUCK MY NUTS, BUFFALO. Despite telling Rebecca to get in the wagon and don’t touch nothing and sit in the wagon, she went foraging for berries. A snakebite is her comeuppance and we have to rest. Women slow everything down
Meanwhile, Kyle is shitting his brains out.
So we had to add a couple more of days of rest to let everyone heal, but at least–aside from Jason–no one is dead.
Spoke too soon. You will be missed, Kyle. Your knowledge of sports trivia was invaluable to this expedition. Meanwhile, it appears Becca won’t be cunt punting anything anytime soon.
Wow. That happened fast. Looks like it’s just me and Wenerd. Hope your iPod is charged so you can groove out to Phish as we cross Wyoming, Brandon.
At the next river crossing, a deep, dangerous one, I decided to again take the ferry. But I accidentally pressed two instead of three, and we were caulking and floating before I knew what happened.
Oops. My b, Brandon. Your blood is on my hands.
Looks like it’s just me. Got more than enough food and supplies however. Still, I’m lonely. Let’s stop at Fort Hall and talk.
Like fuck I’ll write you. Email won’t be invented for another two hundred years. And I don’t do print. But he is right about the Snake River being dangerous. Why just look at this well-dressed Injun informing us of its might.
He agreed to help me float across for a set of clothes, which it looks like he needs not. Greedy Indian. Next he’ll want my land in Oregon. Can’t have it. On to Idaho and Fort Boise.
Sup boo? You single. Lonely man here. Bet your husband died a long time ago. That’s so sad. Care to share my quarters this evening?
I got dysentery the day after my birthday.
I made up for it by killing two bears, though.
You’re damn right I have exhaustion. I just killed two bears. But that’s enough food to sustain me to…
BAM mother fuckers. Made it to the promised land.
Unfortunately, with Jason, Kyle, Brandon and Rebecca all dead, I will need to start our Portland-based website on my own. No rest for the weary.