Christ on a cocking bike. As if 2020 hasn’t already been a shitshow. Not just any shitshow, but an all-singing, all-dancing extravaganza of excrement, a colossal carnival of stinking dog eggs. In fact, if there was an actual Shit Show, and it involved every shit everyone’s ever done performing hits from the musicals, such as Shitting in the Rain, Don’t Shit on My Parade, Let Shit Go etc, this show would still be shitter. And just to top it all off, they’ve cancelled FarmVille.
Alright, let’s be honest: FarmVille isn’t officially gone till 31 December, but it’s already forgotten. I just paid a visit to an old Facebook group where I used to hang out with a load of players, back when hanging out in Facebook groups wasn’t just for old people. That’s right kids, I’m one of you, just look at my collection of drugs and loom bands.
The group was called “Leo’s FarmVille Syndicate”. We gathered there to swap goods, form co-ops, and slag each other off for failing to water crops or produce enough grain. A better name would have been “Leo’s Virtual Gulag.”
Reading the posts now, they are threaded with emotions familiar to any FarmVille fan: aspiration (“Please can everyone join my tomato co-op? I really want an Indian elephant,”) frustration (“What is it with this rice job. I’m never gonna get this tree!!”), resignation (“This week I will mostly be collecting bees and garage parts,”) and grudging, resentful, venomous and unbridled envy (“I’m well jealous of Ellie’s penguin.”)