Subject: Yeah, we date back to the early 2000's, if I remember?
Author:
Posted on: 2019-08-25 15:14:00 UTC
I don't know the exact date, but it was sometime in 2001, before May 11th, and soon after the LOtR movies came out. So we've been at this for 17.5 years.
This year will mark the 25th anniversary of Agony in Pink in November. This fic needs to stay dead.
It's listed in agent Fritz Sorgebrunnen's and agent Silas's files.
Perhaps someone should delete the links in question.
I will miss the two agents that were removed from this series all because of a mistake last year involving TVTropes that surely remains unforgivable by their author(Who WILL not be named, but we all know who she was) to this day.
While it was an honest mistake, I still feel really guilty about my part in that whole debacle...
Dang, has it really been that long? Guess that makes it ancient by Internet standards.
...The PPC is also pretty old too, isn't it?
I don't know the exact date, but it was sometime in 2001, before May 11th, and soon after the LOtR movies came out. So we've been at this for 17.5 years.
Fellowship of the Ring came out in December '01, and the first known PPC spinoff dates to March 15th, 2002. (Taken Far Too Literally can't be counted, because the PPC only shows up later on.) So the origins of the PPC fall between those dates.
So yeah; we're old!
hS
Or maybe I just misinterpreted the info? I dunno.
Can you tell me what you found and where? Whether it's the Wiki being wrong/unclear, or having information I'd forgotten/not known, I'm excited. ^_^
hS
It says specifically that the PPC started in 2001, and that they were kicked off of the Pit on May 11th, 2001.
Here's the link: https://ppc.fandom.com/wiki/Original_Series
I've updated the article to more accurately reflect what we have confirmed. The fact that Araeph wrote it originally suggests it might actually have been correct, but I'm still not sure J&A could have created that first mission in 12 days after FotR came out.
hS
What if Jay and Acacia possess superfast writing powers?
The mission, as is the case with everything else written by the person who missioned it, whom we are no longer at liberty to even name per said person's explicit request, is now considered uncanon. Therefore technically it still lives and never died. If you say its name three times in front of a mirror at midnight, you get given a cupcake, and nobody knows why.
I'd do it myself but I'm not super up on my OG Power Rangers. Not that it'd really matter, but still.
"Dafydd?"
"Yes Connie?"
"Why do we have a giant robot in the back garden?"
Dafydd arched an eyebrow (which was totally wasted on the computer in front of him). "I got it on that mission; remember?"
There was silence from the other room, and then Constance, in her I'm-being-patient-so-I-don't-hit-you voice, said, "Obviously I don't remember, or I wouldn't have asked."
"Huh?" Dafydd turned in his chair to frown at the door. "The big mission they pulled me out of retirement for. 'Go Go Canon Rangers' and all that?"
"... that never happened."
"Er, yes it did?" Dafydd glanced back at the computer, as if it might offer him some guidance. "I mean, why else would I have a giant robot?"
"That's what I'm trying to figure out," Constance said, through what sounded like gritted teeth. "And you're not helping."
"But it- you- come on, you must remember, we read the mission report together afterwards." The elf span back to the computer, tabbed through the filing system to his PPC folder, and sorted the reports by date.
None of them were newer than 2006. The eyebrow went up again.
"Tanfin!" Dafydd called. "Have you been mucking about with my files?"
"Uh, no, Dad," came the much-too-sassy voice of Dafydd's eldest son. "Why would I?"
"He did!" That was Oleander, six years old and a mortal terror when it came to dobbing in his siblings, truthfully or otherwise. "I saw him! He was mucking!"
"I wasn't!" Tanfin protested. "Dad, I wasn't!"
Dafydd rolled his eyes. "Right, well... don't!" He closed the folder and loaded up the ICEP interface Narto and Lou had cobbled together for him. "Let's just get hold of another copy," he muttered, typing in an address and firing off a quick message.
The computer whirred, and then bipped. [User not found], it reported in small, neat letters.
Dafydd rolled his eyes. "You'd think they'd have a forwarding system set up for retired agents," he said to the empty room. "What was her partner's name again...? Oh, right."
Bip. [User not found. Did you mean to type: The Librarian {[0.4342944819.console.192.168.2.1.External]}? NOTE: Agent The Librarian is <deceased/insane/retired> and cannot be contacted.]
Dafydd stared at the screen, then reached out and shut it off. Getting to his feet, he walked to the window and stared out at the gigantic, phoenix-shaped robot lurking at the bottom of their garden.
There was a soft sound of footsteps, and then Constance draped her arm across his shoulder. "It's okay if you can't remember," she said, mock-soothing. "Old age gets to us all eventually, and you are quite ancient, Maglor my dear."
"No," Dafydd murmured, his eyes still fixed on the towering Zord. "I remember. Even if nobody else in the multiverse does... I remember."
But ironically, the guy with the eidetic memory is also the guy who would most like for the whole thing to be forgotten, so I don't know how much help Nume would be if Dafydd asked.
"What? No, I certainly do not remember being violently press-ganged into piloting an embarrassing pink pig robot in an ostensibly epic, very silly Saturday-morning showdown. Don't contact me again unless you're hawking more fire-lizard eggs."
That's probably the best he'd get. {= )
~Neshomeh
As for the badfic, we can always just, y'know, pretend it doesn't exist. We don't have to glorify it by celebrating its anniversary, or even acknowledging it at all. That's always an option. Crazy, I know, but someone had to say it. {= P
~Neshomeh
Besides, Nesh is right. This fic shouldn't be glorified the way, for instance, My Immortal is - that one is pretty harmless, and a very entertaining read. Agony in Pink is just awful, without any redeeming qualities.
My apologies.