I always hoped that Spence would die of dysentery.

This is the impetus for this.

We were discussing Oregon Trail in the break room at work the other day. Basically, I'd set out from Missouri (Banker from Boston, y0) and then I'd hunt. Of course. Hunting was the best part, everyone knew that. Dem rabbits were hard to hit.

In middle school, we had a Macintosh lab. Five of the computers were networked together with Wagon Train 1848 on them. If you could get to the lab quick enough, you could take over those networked computers (Space Quest IV was also on two of them) and make a mad dash to Oregon and American freedom together. The network let each terminal be a member of the same party, and you knew you were a trailmaster when you could single out members of your party to die.

Only bitches take the ferry. Real men ford that shit.