I Shouldn’t Start a MUD
Full disclosure for those who know me well. I’ll sometimes start with a provocative statement and all the reasons I know I shouldn’t do something only to arrive at: “but YOLO here we go anyway!”
This time, I think, that’s not the destination. This isn’t me secretly explaining why I’m going to start a MUD in the Year of our Holy Gashapon, 2026. Probably. Maybe. Almost certainly.
But First, I Digress
I like people. Here we must start before all else, because otherwise it might start to sound like I’m a misanthrope. I really truly do like people. I like chatting with my friends. I enjoy whiling away the hours in pleasant company.
The computer programs available to do that on the modern internet? They do not spark joy. Unjoyful™. Joyn’t™.
What I’m left with is a bit of a problem. I want to be able to communicate with the diaspora of friendshapes I’ve made over my many decades on the Information Superhighway™, but the tools at my disposal leave much to be desired.
A Brief Litany On The Topic of Instant Messengers
If, like me, you are old enough to remember the invention of the wheel, you may remember that once upon a time the wild grasslands were cavorted-upon by beasts known as Instant Messengers. AIM. YIM. MSN. ICQ. While there were slight differences, they all shared the feature that you had to log on. Being available to chat was a decision. An action. If the app was open it was an invitation.
What happened if the app wasn’t open? Nothing. You didn’t get to talk to that person. You waited for them to be available. When they logged on no messages would be waiting. Each session was a fresh exploration of the social strata.
It was beautiful, and it was perfect, and we killed it.
How To Contact Friends These Days in 10 Steps (with pictures)
Currently there are four different messengers where I maintain a presence, which is exactly three more than I’d ideally like.
- Signal: the upstart. My most security-conscious friends are here. Often in addition to at least one other place. This is the place I’ve tried to center, and the platform I’m most likely to respond on.
- Telegram: this one is sticky. I like almost nothing about it, but at least one social community is centered here and it provides a gravity.
- Discord: the worst. I cannot imagine the creature that looks at Discord’s UI/UX and thinks, “yes, good.” But at least one other social community is centered here. Worse, it’s one of the main discoverability engines for other communities important to me.
- SMS: the barren wasteland of spam messages, family, professional services, and MFA codes from services that won’t let me use TOTP as the lord God™ intended.
Oh yeah, also there’s email (feel free to say hi!)
If I’m on my computer looking to Be Social™ that means I need to have three, maybe four, maybe five different apps open.
Gentle reader, I don’t have that much attention to spare on a good day. Which means, in practice, Signal is open most of the time and I check in on the others a few times a week. And that sort of works, except that as anyone who knows me on Discord or Telegram knows, it’s like being friends with a ghost.
Occasionally I show up to rattle the chains and make your clocks run backwards, but mostly I’m quiet.
Except, wait, that kind of sounds like… Isn’t that basically what I was describing as the Golden Age of Instant Messengers™?
The Revolution of Rising Expectations
Yes. Yes it is. Except for one key difference. Unlike AIM or MSN or YIM or ICQ, on Telegram and Discord people can message you while you are offline. Uncouth! Heathens! Anathema!
Being offline on old-school Instant Messengers was Normal and Expected and when you opened one it was a Fresh Palette™ of Opportunity™.
Being offline on Telegram or Discord doesn’t stop the messages from arriving. Which means there’s a Weight™. A Burden™™. Opening either app is inviting yourself to a dinner where the meal is already in progress and may in fact be Half Digested™.
Collectively we’ve created this cultural expectation that everyone will always be available. Nobody is ever permitted to fully disconnect, and to attempt to do so is to abdicate participation in the Zeitgeist™.
Okay Old Man But What Can We Do About It?
We can make a MUD about it.
Wait, Didn’t You Say You Weren’t Going To Do That?
I did. And I’m not. But I thought about it.
As many people know, I learned to program by hacking on MUDs. Circle. Diku. They’re the pasture to which my soul yearns ever to return.
Here’s my ridiculous idea. I would build a MUD. A place I actually want to inhabit online. I would make it available to any and all, those friends who could be convinced to give it a try. I’d make a web interface, so that it was as easy to use as possible.
And key, I would build a series of connectors from the MUD’s mail system to the other places where friends live.
On Telegram? Send a message to a bot.
On Discord? Send a message to a bot.
On IRC? Send a message to a bot.
Gentle reader we could build it better. Stronger. We have the technology.
Except every minute I spend working on this ridiculous project is time not spent on other, more Ridiculouser™ projects. Some of which are deeply important to me and my planned future.
So I think this idea needs to be allowed to wither on the vine. Right idea(?), wrong time. Probably. Maybe. We’ll see.
So That’s It Then? You’re Just Going To Leave It Like That?
For now? Probably. Yes. But this is a space where my mind tends to return and wander. I’ve also considered setting up an IRC server with many of the same goals in mind. I just don’t think I could convince most of my friends to use it.
But IRC is clearly undergoing a small resurgence thanks to modern easy-to-host servers and reliable web-based clients. I’ve seen more than two communities spring up in the last few months centered on a small ecosystem of self-hosted social media, IRC, and / or forums.
The counterculture is rediscovering the internet we mistakenly left behind and finding it Good™. I think eventually I’ll figure something out that works here. And with any luck I’ll convince my friends to make the Jump™.