After I posted the other day about our peep of chickens (no, really!) climbing in numbers to 15 and then a colour-experiment and radio-static fail resulting in another 3 being added to their number, Iss says she's noticed considerable lag in our little corner of the sim. And given it's a shared sim, it doesn't seem fair for us to induce lag.
As such we have to cull. It is not a happy day in the Malifozik household. Iss reckons the last three are the ones that caused the lag. As such, three little chickens have to go.
We have two green roosters - MacAlister and McLaren. Iss decided the fairest way was to let them decide themselves who should remain by pitting them in a pollo-e-pollo deathmatch. The survival of the fittest. A fight to the death with the victor gaining the spoils - that most valuable of commodities - life!
Only it's taking more time than we expected. There seems to be an occasional lunge and peck sort of gesture but mostly there is just posturing and a bit of pushing and shoving. I'm kinda neutral about the outcome. I just keep trying to encourage them both, trying to ensure they both remember that pain fades, chicks dig scars and glory lasts forever!
Then there's little chick McIntyre who is basically baby-crap yellow (or officially Saratago), or at least would have been when she grew up. Iss reckons she's ugly. I reckon she's being punished for the crimes (read: colours) of her parents but Iss's ruling stands. Her name is also down on the guest-list at the local abattoir.
Finally, our third to be sacrificed to the gods of lag is "saddle brown" McBain. Another deemed less than aesthetically worthy. All credit to him though, he was a tough little blighter. Iss sat on him, jumped on him, dropped him from a big height and even attacked him with her daggers but he clucked on. It took me logging on and squishing him in my inventory to do the deed. I felt quite unwell. Iss did offer to do it if I transferred the little fella to her, but I decided I needed to man up.
Goodbye, wee chickens. The squawking of the cletch will be more forlorn without you.