Something Awful: 1999-2000
Ah, the history of Something Awful, a tale so mind-numbingly boring that I'm pretty sure it's been used as a torture technique. But hey, you asked for it, so buckle up for a wild ride through the life and times of a snarky, dead internet guy who clearly never got over his grudges.
Before SA, I slaved away at Gamespy and ran Planet Quake. Working there started off cool, but it quickly devolved into a swirling vortex of misery. The CEO, Mark Surfas, tried to turn his band of underpaid nerds into a real company but had the managerial skills of a drunken raccoon.
They employed meatheads like Sal "Sluggo" Accardo, who was about as helpful as a sunburn, and Darren "Dakota" Tabor, a backstabbing weasel. They made me work insane hours, and when I hit their idiotic milestones, my reward was a cheap backpack and an MP3 player I sold for a measly $20. Thanks for nothing, guys!
I eventually stopped caring and ended up working with LadyICE, an ancient hag who was so useless that I'm pretty sure she was cursed by a witch. After I mocked her incompetence in a Cranky Steve update, she tattled on me like a whiny child, and Darren forced me to sign some shady documents that got me fired. Good riddance.
With no job, I focused on SA, and our first tech guy was Cozmo, who I met on a Quake 2 server. He helped set up the early SA site, which had a design so terrible that it looked like someone vomited up Halloween decorations. The forums started slow, but it attracted a motley crew of weirdos who somehow found our little corner of the internet appealing. Go figure.
The early 2000s were the wild west of the dot-com bubble, where people made absurd amounts of money by doing practically nothing. I, however, missed that boat and ended up on the sinking ship that was the Gamefan Network. They never paid me a dime, and I got roped into cleaning up Billy "Wicked" Wilson's messes on Voodoo Extreme. He was a talented guy with a head full of bees, but he sadly passed away due to liver damage.
Then, I jumped onto the Backbeat Media Network, which was like being the awkward goth kid at a prep school – we didn't fit in at all. But at least they were nice, unlike eFront.
I joined eFront, hoping they'd be better, but it was like jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire. They promised checks that never came, and I was desperate for the money they owed me. Greg Panos, their web relations guy, convinced me to work for them full-time. It was like making a deal with the devil, except the devil was an incompetent buffoon.
The entire eFront debacle was a disaster, and to make matters worse, Gabe from Penny Arcade started a petty crusade against me, claiming I profited from eFront's collapse. That guy had the intelligence of a moldy sponge, and I carried a grudge against him for ages. But hey, at least Tycho was cool.
Here's a fun story about eFront: Kevin "Fragmaster" Bowen stole a chair from them when he quit. Why? No one knows. It's like trying to understand the motivations of a feral raccoon.
By early 2001, I was completely over the whole network thing. But hey, at least I had some entertaining stories to tell, right? So, that's the not-so-glorious history of SA, as told by a bitter, sarcastic ghost who's still clinging to his grudges from beyond the grave. What a life, huh?
As I look back on the twisted, bizarre, and sometimes hilarious history of Something Awful, I can't help but feel a pang of unease. The early days of the internet were rife with chaos, colorful characters, and more than a few facepalm-inducing misadventures. But as the dust has settled and we've all grown older and wiser (well, maybe not all of us), I've come to realize that there's a darker side to this tale.
The internet has transformed into a breeding ground for unscrupulous businesses and manipulative advertising practices. No longer is it simply a collection of misfits and oddballs – it's become a sprawling marketplace where data is bought and sold, and where the almighty dollar reigns supreme.
Consider the world of online advertising: a parasitic landscape where companies feed on your every click and view, milking you for all you're worth. My own experience with these vultures is a testament to their ruthlessness, as they withheld my hard-earned money, forcing me to struggle while they cashed in on my misery. It's a cautionary tale, a stark reminder of the predatory nature of this digital realm.
And what of the current state of YouTube? Once a haven for homegrown content and genuine creativity, it's now become a soulless behemoth, churning out a never-ending stream of insipid clickbait and mind-numbing "challenges." The platform has been overrun by money-hungry creators and advertisers, all vying for your precious time and attention, only to leave you feeling empty and unsatisfied.
It's time for us to take a stand, to recognize the dangerous path we're treading. The internet was once a glorious, untamed wilderness, filled with boundless potential and a sense of wonder. But now, as we hurtle headlong into a world dominated by corporate interests and a relentless pursuit of profit, we must ask ourselves: is this really the future we want?
So let this be a dire warning, a clarion call to those who value the true spirit of the internet. It's up to us to resist the encroaching tide of greed and manipulation, to carve out a space where creativity and genuine connection can still flourish. We must never forget the lessons of the past, for they are the keys to unlocking a brighter, more authentic future.
As for me, I'll continue to raise a sarcastic, mean-spirited toast to the memories, the grudges, and the bizarre collection of misfits who made my time on the internet a wild, unforgettable ride. Rest in peace, Lowtax. You may be gone, but your legacy lives on – a stark reminder of the perils and pitfalls that lurk in the darkest corners of cyberspace.

















