Well, life after the end seems to be going along about as well as could be expected. I'm slaughtering lampreys by the dozen while spewing out stillborn twins and baking them into pies (or shooting one of them out of a cannon), we lit a campfire in Freedom City with a compressed block of weed that had 9000 doses of slagtown kush in it (slightly cut with other, lesser strains), thus creating a smog layer in the skies over FC with nearly-fatal THC levels for anyone flying over without a gas mask (it's still there, two ingame weeks later), and we even managed to get some tomfoolery in when a sexhaving wannabe-ripperscrub was asking for the cure to zombie rot while standing in a vat of bile, and our "Wizard" (Halloween costume) convinced him that these magic golden crystals he had were the cure. Then we gave him ebola, tried to get him massively stoned, and scrambled his mind with Imaginary Death Syndrome.
Unfortunately, we may have accidentally griefed him off the game. That really wasn't the intention.
But hey, more openings for other prospective players who'd like to participate in intimate madness and asking Mada to make us a space station with a giant orbital laser whip!
In other news, it is now my quest to abduct great numbers of ice yeti babies and raise them as my very own (seeing as my own spawn are apparently rather unwilling to be born alive. Also, yetis).