Breathless, and seduced by Barthes, The Pleasure of the Text leaving me dreaming of bliss:

Due allowance being made for the sounds of the language, writing aloud is not phonological but phonetic; its aim is not the clarity of messages, the theater of emotions; what it searches for (in a perspective of bliss) are the pulsional incidents, the language lined with flesh, a text where we can hear the grain of the throath, the patina of consonants, the voluptuousness ov vowels, a whole carnal stereophony; the articulation of the body, of the tongue, not that of meaning, of language.

This is what doesn't exist in a MUD.