how would you liken rof?

for me, it is a mismatched group brought together by circumstance to wait out the end of the world, bonded by peril, friendships and enmities forged in the white heat of despair

around us, everything crumbles

and we know that whatever is Out There is coming for us too

soon

 

Normally people who get on each other's nerves would just stop interacting in real life but here it's like your locked in with them. And then after a while you start to understand their point of view a bit even if you still don't like it much. Which has to be a good thing.

To the OP, that may have been true back in the day.  Now it is a forum to engage in trolling, ad hominem remarks which aren't even witty, and insanity venting.  Like Mutters, not half as entertaining as it used to be.

It's like an onion that's been sitting in a sack in the corner of a barn for a while. Peel back the stinky layers and a load of earwigs run out. Then you get through to a sounder layer but behind that is a stalky paedo. Then you pull back another layer and there's Laz, laying back stark naked with tackle out like some sort of alternative universe renaissance masterpiece, only he's wearing a neckbrace.  Then a layer down and you have a raging band of politicos who are sparking off each other and talking nonsense for no purpose. Then there's the sex people. Then the maladjusted S&M fiends being managed by a man in red corduroys and a green moleskin waistcoat, looks a bit like a pervy version of moley from the Wind in the Willows,  and he's urgently masturbating in the corner and people call him dux.

I think it's like an actual office.

Some of you are here 24/7, like secretaries.

Some of us pop in every now and again, like visiting salespeople or bungie bosses.

There's a lot of office politics. People like each other to varying degrees. Someone's always having a crisis. Lydia sits in the corner and occassionaly blurts out some batshit crazy opinion.

The office itself is in a basement. The windows are at just above head height. They are barred. the office is open plan. The carpet is a faded shade of grim 70's institutional orange, with the occassional cigarette burn. No one actually talks. They type. The atmosphere is moodily silent. Piers and Maffhew glare at us from a glass sided office in the middle of this area, working on Bentham's principle of panopticism. 

Few people come or go, these days. Those who leave just vanish. There are no "good luck" cards or collections. They just... go.

Pretty much a closed shop these days. Some people post every five minutes about something utterly banal, others post less frequently.

Certainly not a welcoming place for new posters. Sarcasm and hostility abound. I can't remember any since Gwen.

I’d say it’s a similar demographic to a commuter train but the anonymity of it means everyone is behaving like they’re drunk/high

imagine a commuter train that was pitch black in a blackout and that’s the conversation on here