Requiem for a Game once loved

The sun was shining on the game,
Shining with all his might:
He did his very best to make
The syntax smooth and bright--
This wasn't odd, because it was
The middle of Thursday night.

The moon was shining sulkily,
Because she thought the sun
Had got no business to be there
After the day was done--
"It's very rude of him," she said,
"To come and spoil the fun!"

The blood was wet as wet could be,
The graves were dry as dry.
You could not see a cloud, because
No cloud was in the sky:
No birds were flying overhead--
There were only bats to fly.

The Marcus and the Programmer
Were walking close at hand;
They wept like anything to see
The Vampires make their stand:
"If these were only beaten down,"
They said, "it would be grand!"

"If seven mods with seven Opps
Swept it for half a year.
Do you suppose," the Marcus said,
"That they'd get the forum clear?"
"I doubt it," said the Programmer,
And shed a bitter tear.

"O Players, come and play with us!"
The Marcus did beseech.
"A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,
Your credit cards we leach:
We need so very many more,
We promise gifts to each."

The Wisest Players looked at him,
But never a word they said:
The Wisest Players winked an eye,
And shook a weary head--
Meaning to say they did not choose
To hear what Marcus said.

But four young Players hurried up,
All eager for the treat:
Their coats were brushed, their fangs were washed,
Their stats were hard to beat--
And this was odd, because, you know,
They had more in defeat.

Four other Players followed them,
And yet another four;
And thick and fast they came at last,
And more, and more, and more--
All hopping through the useless tags,
And scrambling to the fore.

The Marcus and the Programmer
Went on a year or so,
And then slunk underneath their rock
Conveniently low:
And all the little Players stood
And waited in a row.

"The time has come," Erzebet said,
"To talk of many things:
Of games--and war--and Vampires--
Of Princessas--and kings--
And why a game has run its course--
And whether Vamps have wings."

"But wait a bit," the Players cried,
"Before we have our chat;
For some of us are out of Rage,
And all our stats are fat!"
"More Energy!" said the Programmer.
They thanked him much for that.

"Another hat," the Marcus said,
"Is what we chiefly need:
More Coats for Avatars besides
Are very good indeed--
Now if you're ready, Players dear,
We can fulfil our greed."

"But not from us?" the Players cried,
Turning a little blue.
"After Rage and Energy, that’d be
A dismal thing to do!"
"The Game is fine," the Marcus said.
"Do you admire the view?

"It was so kind of you to Play!
And you are very nice!"
The Programmer said nothing but
"Give us another slice:
I wish they were not quite so deaf--
I've had to ask them twice!"

"It seems a shame," the Marcus said,
"To play them such a trick,
After we've brought them out so far,
And made them level quick!"
The Programmer said nothing but
"The Lie has spread too thick!"

"I weep for us," the Marcus said:
"I deeply sympathize."
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Vamps of the largest size,
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.

"O Players," said the Programmer,
"We've had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?'
But answer came there none--
And this was scarcely odd, because
They'd all left... every one.

Erzebet