Watching Time

[Archbaron]

Anyone who lingers in bars will find themselves constantly typing "time" to see if it's dawn yet. I think that it'd be realistic to incorporate time into something you can watch, or integrate it into some similar command.

Code Select Expand


>watch time
You are now watching the time.

...

You notice that it is now dawn on Dzeda.


[Spud]

Sweet.

[Agent_137]

fuck yea. Or at least automated time change echoes everywhere.

[Ueda]

fuck yea. Or at least automated time change echoes everywhere.

Just bars would be sweet!

[Tisiphone]

There...are...automated time echoes in every bar I'm aware of. Except perhaps one.

[musashi]

Maybe also have it as something that can show up in your prompt? Just tossing another idea out.

[Maybe42or54]

Eh.



I'd rather just see an echo placed in bars that shows a few people showing up at dusk, then a few people leaving at dawn.

[brytta.leofa]

A horn blast sounds somewhere far to the northeast.
From somewhere above the crowded street to the north, a male voice drones,
  "The Highlord is most great! The Highlord is most great!
   I testify that there is no king except the Highlord!
   I testify that His templars are the messengers of the Highlord!
   Come to devotions! Come to devotions!
   Come to success! Come to success!
   The Highlord is most great! The Highlord is most great!"

(Not meaning to offend the Muslims amongst us...I just love the evocativeness of the call to prayer.)

Because then you can have unsurpassed pathos:

The red sun rises over the dunes.
> look
Dusty Plains [NESW]
   Endless arid plains and rugged rock outcroppings dominate the landscape
here. The desolate ground is mottled, with sand in one place, red dirt in
another, and sharp stones elsewhere; it is as if the winds had discarded
the refuse of creation here. The sun beats down on the barren ground with
heavy, dry heat, and a thick layer of dark red dust cakes everything.
  A layer of fine ash covers the earth here.
  A battle seems to have been fought here recently.
  The body of a unit of half-giant drummers lies crumpled here.
  The body of the scarred, short-eyed templar lies crumpled here.
  The body of a unit of shuman oldiers of Tektolnes lies crumpled here.
  The body of the lean, long-limbed man lies crumpled here.
  The body of the splotched, mauve-tousled man lies crumpled here.
  The body of a unit of half-giant soldiers of Tektolnes lies crumpled here.
  The body of a unit of human soldiers of Tektolnes lies crumpled here.
  The body of a unit of Tor Scorpions lies crumpled here.
  The body of the grim, lovelocked man lies crumpled here.
  The body of the tall, hazel-eyed woman lies crumpled here.
  The trim, ebon-locked templar is sitting here.
  A unit of human soldiers of Tektolnes is standing here.
  The muscular, bead-tressed man is standing here.
  The jade-trimmed, war-braided woman stands guard by the trim, ebon-locked templar.
  The dark-hued male leans on a chitin-bladed war staff, staring off across the bleak landscape.
Struggling to her feet, the trim, ebon-locked templar stands up.
As the sun rises, the trim, ebon-locked templar exclaims, her voice cracking, in sirihish,
  "The Highlord is most great! The Highlord is most great!--"