The Meaning of Life, the Universe, and Everything.
Join Date:
6/16/2013
Posts:
232
Member Details
Must that symbol be everywhere I look!?!?!
In all technicality, I have no ancestor, unless you count myself from the past. He unfortunately had a bit of amnesia, and that is why I am here now, I suppose.
/null
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
VUM, ME QBIXX PIYE IV AVPERWAQQAUV, UD QURPQ;
CU! RENEX AV PBE WUUVXACBP OVFER PBE GUORPQ.
~~~
Kar nfnuvvh qoyekc-wmyk nhrvrgwkcs; kie whiznuw; klh zsiek nmor pxgpfhh kce psl wkuh ik cfyu xptzgvrfk.
The comic was quite good. although piono doesn't really have an ancestor, the closest thing he has is Eric.
Somewhere else in the server...
A large crowd of players has gathered.
The sounds of the reign of chaos can be heard.
Since the arrival of the crockercorp fleet, destruction has grown more and more widespread.
And it has continued growing, even with its sudden disappearance.
But some places are protected
In this large vale, large numbers of players are working on the largest project ever seen in a minecraft server.
The sole remaining ship of the second crockercorp fleet.
A massive behemoth.
But already twice the size it was when captured by Dimentio.
The bright red most crockercorp ships sport can only be found on a few patches.
It is a mass of blocks and materials.
A dreadnaught. Already sporting shielding more advanced than the Condesce had access to.
This giant behemoth is surrounded by the workings of many people, not all of them natives to minecraft.
A city has grown around the construction.
Weaponsmiths, forges, all the makings of preparations for war.
But those stand side by side with things there to support those merely sheltering from the raging storm outside.
Restaurants, inns, stores, even the odd mall and castle.
But the crown of this gleaming and varied city is what it is built around.
The ship.
Everyone contributes. Wizards study plans with androids.
Demons take loads from angels.
Everyone prepares.
This ship represents what many believe to be the last hope of all they know.
The M.C. Freedom.
Tricky stands up again.
He looks around the wreckage of the Pool Room.
He chuckles, not quite the insane cackle that is usually his.
But not quite sane either.
He's finished the last errand piono had set for him.
Now all he had to do was wait for his ride.
And now we have yet another pesterlog from me and someone else, this time with fseftr. And not talking with piono, seems Phobos had something in mind.
-- powerNexus [PN] began pestering ceruleanTotality [CT] -- PN: Hello. CT: Hello. PN: I was told that you could help me with something. CT: Okay. PN: There are rumours of you being the CEO of a large company... PN: That manufactures weapons. CT: I am CEO of a large company. CT: I do not manufacture weapons though. CT: I manufacture ships. PN: What kind? CT: Space. PN: I assumed as much. PN: How good are your warships? CT: Well, that depends on what you need them for, doesn't it? PN: What are warships used for? CT: Right. CT: Who are you going to war against? PN: Guess. CT: I'd rather not. PN: Anyone we need to. PN: Project Nexus isn't actually a military organization. PN: But actually just the recruitment branch of one. PN: Or we were. PN: I propose a trade. PN: I supply you with troops. PN: You supply me with ships to put my troops in. CT: I'm afraid my ships aren't the type to be able to carry troops. CT: They are all automated. CT: No life support systems to speak of. PN: I see. PN: Easily remedied though. PN: Most of my soliders do not require life support systems. CT: Fair enough. PN: Also. Foot troops can go many places large warships cannot. PN: And are also immune to EMPs for the most part. CT: Yes, that is a weakness my ships have. CT: But I usually leave that problem to my clients. PN: If you have live soldiers within your own ships, they can pilot them when EMPs disable the AI CT: My ships don't come with manual controls. CT: Because I do not hire people to run them CT: I run factories, not a militia. PN: Is it too hard to add manual controls? PN: But no. PN: I can see this deal will not work. CT: Not difficult. CT: But unprofitable. CT: I don't think it will either. CT: Goodbye. -- powerNexus [PN] ceased pestering ceruleanTotality [CT] --
The day was the winter solstice of 1,413 A.N., or, After Notch, on the Minecraftian calendar. In your time, that would be the winter solstice of 2,009 A.D. This day marked the start of the War that is the focus of this book, unoriginally dubbed the "Psi-Godmodding War" by those who fought me. And yes, I know what you're thinking. This War took place in the early days of Minecraft. So, how could it come to pass? There was barely multiplayer, and the scope of this War would have to have taken place in a server like the one you currently fight in in your own War.
My answer is one that has been repeated many times to you, and one that should be apparent to you, thanks to your recent Scratch of your own First Block (yes, my ascension gave me knowledge of the future, at least, of your own war, since it runs parallel to mine). Minecraft is not a game. It is its own universe, with galaxies, stars, and planets, with their own lives. Of course, you all know this already. But my point is that Mojang, revered here as gods, have changed this universe's spacetime and somehow layered it into raw coding, turning this universe into a game that can be played in your universe.
Why? I haven't a clue. But know that every object that will ever be added to Minecraft, and scores upon scores of ones that won't, already exist in its universe, which is how I was able to use the First Block when it was available to you, and how objects in 1.7 will be in use here. So, yes. The War took place at that day. But let us head back a bit.
Shortly after my ascension, I experimented with the versatility and scope of my newfound powers. They allowed me to change space and time around myself, at will. I traveled the globe with these abilities, changing things wherever and whenever I could. People tried to fight me. I recognized and blocked every attack before they even happened. I was unstoppable. My powers were those of a god. And I could make anything, even from the Mods players outside from my own world could create.
So it was that I dubbed my powers "godmodding", since they were godlike, and could modify the world around them.
With these skills, I quickly toppled most of the major governments of the world and waged havoc on the cube I called home, establishing my own rule in their places shortly thereafter. Many governments sent their own armies at me, but how could they kill a being who knew, in advance, what every one of their attacks would be? Exactly. They could not. The world fell to me in short order. My plans for it were simple. I was to use the resources of the earth, and the people, to forge the greatest weaponry and fleets known to Minecraft. I would scourge the galaxies, ruling every Minecraft world populated with multiplayer servers... It was to be my life's work. But it was put to a stop... By them.
Winter.
A winter day heralded the beginning of the War; I'll never forget the raging blizzard that took place outside of my Throne Room. I hadn't stationed any guards or traps or alert systems around it, as I didn't need to, with my power levels. And yet, I was still a bit surprised when a figure walked into my room unannounced. He was dressed in holy garb, a cyan shirt, navy pants, and grey boots. Atop his head was a helmet forged from diamonds. In his left hand, a sword gleaming purple. In his right, a jet-black egg speckled with magenta. He looked up at me, and I recognized the face. It was the matured version of the one that survived the Siege of Sodermalm with me, the only other one.
Steve. The Player. TT2000's Ancestor.
He gripped his sword, and I knew what he would say before he said it. He wanted to fight me. I grinned, of course, accepting. With my godlike powers, I held the world in my iron grip. I had never seen defeat. A sight that, unfortunately, would behold itself to me soon enough. The fight started innocently enough. I equipped my usual fare of warfare, intent on bringing the Player down. But, something about him made him incredibly hard to pin down. An aura of holiness surrounded him. He had just taken down his Enderdragon, I thought. Being the Player, he had to have had some level of power.
I was correct. He had somehow crafted a more streamlined, focused version of my Godmodding abilities, and was using them against me. We were evenly matched, strike for strike, each of us mirroring the other's actions. Eventually, somehow, he was tiring me out. Notch must have been favoring him, for he eventually, in one solid strike, sliced my face, absolving me of one eye. He then switched his sword out for a hammer. The Hammer of Notch, the one that, in legend, was used in conjunction with the Divine Anvil to forge the world as we know it.
The Hammer, bathed in golden light, slammed into me, inflicting the first real pain I had ever felt since my rise to power. He relieved me of an arm. Beaten, I fell to the ground. Steve, however, had inflicted injuries of his own, but they were not fatal. He grinned, and told me that, in a week, him and eight others would start a war against me. I looked at him with a hate unmatched to this very day. My pride forced me to accept. He laughed, and left my chamber. That was my first taste of defeat. It would not be my last.
I spent the next week honing my skills to what I believed to be perfection. I created a Black Fortress, built from my meager throne room, and enchanted Sentries to guard it, armed with holy weaponry. I forged Turrets from the cores of dwarf stars, that would relentlessly pursue a single target, switching between thousands of different weapon sets. I strip-mined an entire Province of the World and gathered enough ores to create magnificent, eldritch versions of normal Minecraft monsters that I dubbed Terrors, who were loyal to me, and me alone.
Eventually, I considered myself ready for war. I had learned, to a great extent, what my powers could be used for, and my ever-replenishing army would defend me well in battle. And then, the day arrived. Just as Steve had predicted, they came, through a great fog, onto my battlefield. I hid the Castle deep underground, where it could not be touched, and watched your Ancestors arrive. Even today, I remember their names.
The Soldier. ninjatwist321's Ancestor.
The Alchemist. Modpack's Ancestor.
The Hidden. engie_ninja's Ancestor.
The Kerbal. OpelSpeedster's Ancestor.
The Spelunker. Minor107's Ancestor.
The Veteran. Talist's Ancestor.
The Sleuth. Irecreeper's Ancestor.
The Captain. Crusher48's Ancestor.
Together, they stood as nine players, who came from the four corners of the universe in order to put an end to my reign. We stood, unblinking, waiting for the other to make a move. Yet, our silence in and of itself spoke volumes. For it was the beginning of War.
You know what? Fine! Just take away the story post I spent an hour writing, Editor. It's not like I care. I had a whole thing planned out but nope! Poof! It's gone! ...
And that's why you should use Microsoft Word Nah, I'm not THAT insensitive. Trust me Twin, from the time I've spent managing various games, I feel your pain! I would accidentally "go back" all the time and lose entire posts! The new forum added a "confirm leave page" thingy that helps prevent that. At first I was all "If theres one good thing that came out of this, it's that", but now I realize its in exchange for the editor TAKING IT AWAY DIRECTLY. Ugh. FIX BUGS FASTER ADMINS!
Nothing...
/null
happen
Somehow, I ended up GM-ing this thing over at Bay12;
http://www.bay12forums.com/smf/index.php?topic=149024.870
In all technicality, I have no ancestor, unless you count myself from the past. He unfortunately had a bit of amnesia, and that is why I am here now, I suppose.
/null
Alright! Still, it's an end to this intermission.
An alternate timeline emerges.
However, we must first start from the beginning...
/null
Sometimes a battle yields no victor.
Fear is Freedom! Control is Liberty!
Contradiction is Truth! That is the reality of this world!
Avatar by TwinBuilder
Somewhere else in the server...
A large crowd of players has gathered.
The sounds of the reign of chaos can be heard.
Since the arrival of the crockercorp fleet, destruction has grown more and more widespread.
And it has continued growing, even with its sudden disappearance.
But some places are protected
In this large vale, large numbers of players are working on the largest project ever seen in a minecraft server.
The sole remaining ship of the second crockercorp fleet.
A massive behemoth.
But already twice the size it was when captured by Dimentio.
The bright red most crockercorp ships sport can only be found on a few patches.
It is a mass of blocks and materials.
A dreadnaught. Already sporting shielding more advanced than the Condesce had access to.
This giant behemoth is surrounded by the workings of many people, not all of them natives to minecraft.
A city has grown around the construction.
Weaponsmiths, forges, all the makings of preparations for war.
But those stand side by side with things there to support those merely sheltering from the raging storm outside.
Restaurants, inns, stores, even the odd mall and castle.
But the crown of this gleaming and varied city is what it is built around.
The ship.
Everyone contributes. Wizards study plans with androids.
Demons take loads from angels.
Everyone prepares.
This ship represents what many believe to be the last hope of all they know.
The M.C. Freedom.
Tricky stands up again.
He looks around the wreckage of the Pool Room.
He chuckles, not quite the insane cackle that is usually his.
But not quite sane either.
He's finished the last errand piono had set for him.
Now all he had to do was wait for his ride.
DTG Co Labs
Nope, sorry guys, no Destroy the Godmodder relevant stuff here...
At least, not yet.
Check out my bad CTM map reviews here.
AH. HAH. I finally won! Ha. Wait. Wͯ̈ͯ̋ͯ͐ͯHͯ᷾ͯA͎ͯͯ-̦ͯͯA̧̢ͫ᷾᷇᷉̉Ŗ̙᷇̄͒᷅̌͜͝Ģ̫̫̄̾᷃᷀Ḩ᷿͎̭ͪͨ᷾
-------
ERROR. BOTH SIDES GONE. SCOREBOARD: EVERYONE: 0/? HP.
ERROR.
ERROR
ERROR
ERRRRRROOOOOOORRR-----
EVERYONE: 0͕̜͕͓͕̜͕͕̜͕͓͕̜͕̭͕̜͕͓͕̜͕͕̜͕͓͕̜͕͡͡͏͕̜͕͓͕̜͕͕̜͕͓͕̜͕̭͕̜͕͓͕̜͕͕̜͕͓͕̜͕͡͡/͕̜͕͓͕̜͕͕̜͕͓͕̜͕̭͕̜͕͓͕̜͕͕̜͕͓͕̜͕͡͡͏͕̜͕͓͕̜͕͕̜͕͓͕̜͕̭͕̜͕͓͕̜͕͕̜͕͓͕̜͕͡͡1͕̜͕͓͕̜͕͕̜͕͓͕̜͕̭͕̜͕͓͕̜͕͕̜͕͓͕̜͕͡͡͏͕̜͕͓͕̜͕͕̜͕͓͕̜͕̭͕̜͕͓͕̜͕͕̜͕͓͕̜͕͡͡0͕̜͕͓͕̜͕͕̜͕͓͕̜͕̭͕̜͕͓͕̜͕͕̜͕͓͕̜͕͡͡͏͕̜͕͓͕̜͕͕̜͕͓͕̜͕̭͕̜͕͓͕̜͕͕̜͕͓͕̜͕͡͡0͕̜͕͓͕̜͕͕̜͕͓͕̜͕̭͕̜͕͓͕̜͕͕̜͕͓͕̜͕͡͡͏͕̜͕͓͕̜͕͕̜͕͓͕̜͕̭͕̜͕͓͕̜͕͕̜͕͓͕̜͕͡͡ ͕̜͕͓͕̜͕͕̜͕͓͕̜͕̭͕̜͕͓͕̜͕͕̜͕͓͕̜͕͡͡͏͕̜͕͓͕̜͕͕̜͕͓͕̜͕̭͕̜͕͓͕̜͕͕̜͕͓͕̜͕͡͡H͕̜͕͓͕̜͕͕̜͕͓͕̜͕̭͕̜͕͓͕̜͕͕̜͕͓͕̜͕͡͡͏͕̜͕͓͕̜͕͕̜͕͓͕̜͕̭͕̜͕͓͕̜͕͕̜͕͓͕̜͕͡͡P͕̜͕͓͕̜͕͕̜͕͓͕̜͕̭͕̜͕͓͕̜͕͕̜͕͓͕̜͕͡͡͏͕̜͕͓͕̜͕͕̜͕͓͕̜͕̭͕̜͕͓͕̜͕͕̜͕͓͕̜͕͡͡
SCOREBOARD
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NIMBLEGUY
BACKUP
VIRUS
TUBAS OF THE SCRATCH
CORE SYSTEM SERVICES
YUGELBMIN
PUKCAB
CORRUPTION MAINFRAME
-̸᷿᷿̫᷿̳᷿̅ͪ͂̂̑᷃̉͂-᷿̱᷿̫᷿̩̘᷿̰ͥ͂ͪ̍̄͂-᷿᷿͚̫͕᷿̮̲᷿̇ͨ͂᷾͂ͮ-̘᷿᷿̫᷿̱᷿ͧ͂̍ͥͦ͂͂ͮ-͓᷿᷿͕̫᷿᷿᷿͈᷇͂᷇͂̈́͠-᷿᷿᷿̫᷿͇᷿̽̾͂͗͒͂̐͝-᷿͙̭᷿̹̫᷿᷿ͮ͂̄͂̇͊͘-᷿̪᷿̮̫͎᷿̼᷿᷾͂᷀̉͂̆-᷿᷿͎̫᷿͓᷿ͬ̄͂́̇̂͂ͤ-᷿᷿̹̫᷿͚᷿͑̈͂͂᷀̒͂͘-̢᷿̟᷿̠̫᷿̪̦᷿̩᷄͂̑͂-̮᷿᷿̫᷿᷿ͩ͂ͦ̅̈́͂ͦ͟͝-͇᷿̦᷿̫᷿᷿᷁͂ͥ̾̓͂ͦ᷅-̡̧᷿̝᷿̜̫᷿͙᷿͂̊͂̈͘-̧͖᷿᷿̫᷿̝᷿̫͂̐ͩ͗͂͟-̵᷿᷿̠̫̦᷿̯͎᷿̹ͭ͂᷈͂-̸̶᷿᷿̫̘᷿᷿̖͋͂̿̏͂͆-᷿̗᷿̤̫᷿̞͕᷿᷈͂̈͂̑͢-̶᷿᷿̫᷿̣᷿͂̂᷀͂̅͟͝͠-͚᷿̝᷿̰̫᷿̖᷿͂᷈͂̿̈͢-᷿̫᷿̫̹᷿̳̥᷿᷁̔͂͆͂͆-᷿᷿̫͙᷿͎᷿ͧ͊͂᷾͂̊͗͜-᷿̖᷿̫᷿᷿ͫ̔͂̋᷅͌͂᷁᷉-̧̙᷿̦̜᷿̫᷿᷿᷿͂̓͛͂ͣ-̙᷿᷿̫̦᷿̖᷿̉͂ͩ᷁̄͂̑-̷᷿᷿̫᷿᷿̻̀͛͂̌̓ͭ͂̃-᷿᷿̫᷿᷿᷿᷁̋͂̃̏ͮ̔͂̌-᷿̳᷿̬̫̥᷿᷿̄͂̉ͥ͂̔᷆-̵̷̷̸᷿᷿̫᷿᷿͕᷀͂ͪͪ͂-̵̶᷿̭᷿̦̫᷿᷿ͧ͂᷃ͣ̔͂-̸̪᷿᷿͂͊͏̵̫͎᷿̞᷿͖͂-̡̬᷿̩̯᷿̫̠᷿̺᷿͂̆͂᷀-͎᷿᷿͉̫᷿᷿᷀͂̈́ͤ̑͂ͮ͂-̸᷿̘̖᷿̫͔᷿᷿́͂͂ͥ̀̚-̧̥᷿᷿᷿̫᷿᷿͂᷈᷾͂̌̄͢-̢᷿̬᷿̫᷿᷿̟͌͂̎ͤͤ͂᷈-̢᷿̬᷿̫᷿͇᷿̂͒͂᷁͂͂͋-᷿̘͙᷿̯̫̝᷿᷿̈͂ͯ͂͆͘-̶᷂᷿᷿̫᷿̜᷿͌͂͊᷉͌͂́-̛᷿᷿̫᷿᷿̔͂̒᷄᷀͂̈́̇̚-̢᷿᷿̫͉᷿᷿ͧͧ͂᷾͂ͪ͢͡-̸̶᷿̜̩᷿̘̫᷿̲᷿̾͂᷉͂-̣᷿͙᷿̰̫᷿̗᷿͈͂᷆̇͂᷃-̧̤᷿᷿̫̰᷿᷿ͤ͂̋̄͂᷈͠-̷̡᷿᷊̙᷿͈̫᷿̻᷿͂͂͋̕-᷿᷿͓̫᷿᷊᷿͚̓͐͂ͪͭ͂ͤ-᷿͉᷿̥̫᷿͕͕᷿ͥ͂͂͑͂̑-̶̜᷿᷿̼̫̪᷿̙᷿͇͂͂᷀͢-̲᷿᷿̩̫᷿̩᷿̲̌͂̆ͦ͆͂-̴̭᷿̙̙᷿̫᷿᷿᷿͂᷅̋͂᷁-᷿͕᷿̫̜᷿᷿̯ͣ͂͒̊͛͂̾-̨̧᷿᷿̫᷿᷿̈́᷈͂͌̒͂͛͠-̵̨᷿͉᷿̫͇᷿᷿̹͂ͨ̽ͫ͂-᷿̰᷿̫͍᷿᷿͈̀᷆͂̒̉͂ͩ-̢᷿᷿᷿̺̫̙᷿᷿͉̈͂͂̆͟-̸̧̳᷿͖᷿͕̫᷿̰̖᷿͂᷄͂-᷿͕̗᷿͍̫᷿᷿ͤ͂ͭ͋͂̈́̃-̧᷿᷿᷿̫᷿᷿̗̔͂̓͂̓͟͠-̸̡᷿̻᷿̫᷿ͮ͂᷈̑͂͏᷿͊-̨᷿᷿̫᷿̲᷿͔ͩ̉͂᷆̌͂͝-̡᷿͓᷿̫͎᷿̙᷿̎͑͂͆᷄͂-᷿᷿̜̫᷿᷿̟́᷅͂̉ͮ̐͂̍-̛᷿᷿̙̫᷿͔̠᷿ͯ͂͂᷀͘ͅ-̷᷿͈͈᷿̫᷿̰̤᷿͉͊͂ͯ͂-̴̲᷿᷿̫᷿᷿ͥ͂᷉̿͂̑̐͟-̴᷿͍᷿̺̫᷿͓᷿̆͂͂͌̄̕-̴᷿᷿̫᷿̠̯᷿̞̓͂̇ͯͣ͂-̱᷿̞᷿̫᷿̦᷿͂̌͆ͪ͂̃̊-̛̛᷿̘͖᷿͈̫̭᷿᷿ͫ͂ͭ͂-᷂᷿᷿̫᷿̬̝᷿̓͂̈́̾͂̊̚-̶᷿᷿̫᷿᷿̟᷅͂ͭͩ́͂͝ͅ-᷿̤᷊᷿̫᷿᷿͐͂᷾̽ͮ͂̔ͅ-᷿᷿̫̟᷿᷿̓̀͂̿ͥ͂ͭ͛ͅ-᷿᷿̫͕᷿̬᷿̏͂̏͂̍͌͝͡-᷿̹᷿̫᷿᷿᷿͉ͥ͂̂͛͒͂᷈-̴᷿̺̲᷿̫̣᷿᷿̬᷅͂̀͂̏-᷿̳͎᷿̫᷿᷿͗͂̇̇̔͂ͯ̒-̳᷿̗᷿̫̫̱᷿᷿ͥ͂᷀͂ͥ̑-̨᷿᷿̫᷿̤᷿̾̄͂ͫ᷇᷀͂ͪ-̶̸᷿᷿͕̫̪᷿᷿͂̎͂᷁̿͠-᷿͓̥᷿̫̤᷿̰᷿̃͂̄̔͂̏-̴᷿᷿̫᷿̱᷿̊̑͂̆ͮ͂͗̉-̡͇᷿᷿̫̜᷿᷿᷄͂̄͑͂͌͡-̶᷿̬᷿̫᷿͈᷿͊͂᷈᷈͗͂ͦ-᷿᷿̥̫᷿̖᷿͚̈́᷈͂ͬ᷀͂͞-᷿᷿̫᷿̟͉᷿᷅͂̎̆͂̈́̚͢-᷂᷿̯᷿̫᷊᷿̞᷿̳͂᷄ͬ͂ͭ-̶᷿᷿̫᷿̥᷿᷾᷈͂̔͂̍͟͝-̴᷿᷿̮̫᷿̣᷿̬᷀̌͂ͤ͂͘-͈᷿͖᷿̫͇᷿̣᷿͂͂̂᷆͂̒-᷿͈᷿̫᷿᷿᷀̈͂ͩ̎᷾͂͆̋-᷿̱᷿̖̫̝᷿᷿̤᷄͂ͧ̇͂᷄-̵᷿᷿᷂̫᷿̹᷿̜̄͂̑͊͂̓-̢͓᷿᷿̫᷿̖͖᷿ͭ͂̅ͣ͂̀-̘᷿᷿̫᷿᷿͂ͤ̍ͦ̾͂ͪ̃͝-̨̺᷿᷿̫̜᷿̬᷿̩̊͂̅͂͆-̛᷿̳᷿̫᷿͈᷿᷿̔͂̈́̃͛͂-᷿᷿͔̫᷿᷿̉̒͂̀ͨͬ͂͆̋-̴᷿̣᷿̫̞᷿̞᷿̩͂᷅᷅͂̚-᷿᷿̳̫᷿̫᷿̞ͦ͑͂͗̐͂̓-͕᷿᷿̫᷿᷿ͨ͂᷄᷀᷈͂͛͝͞-̛᷿᷿̫̯᷿̰̜᷿͗̿͂ͥ̐͂-᷿̦᷿̫᷊᷿̙᷿᷅̅͂̑͂̑̇-̴̴͚᷿̤͕᷿̯̫᷿̼᷿͂͂̃-̴᷿᷿̜̫᷿̜̣᷿͂̿̊͂̔͟-̫᷿̥̣᷿̝̫̼᷿̻᷿͂ͧ͂͠-̡᷿͚᷿̥̫᷿᷿̎̿͂ͭ͂͗᷉-᷿̞᷿̫᷿̼᷿̟᷁͂̀̆̇͂᷉-᷿̱̲᷿̫̭᷿᷿͍͂͂̍ͦ͂͝-̵̡͉᷿᷿̫̞᷿᷊᷿ͬ͂͋͂͞-̸̨᷿᷿̫᷿̩̤᷿͈̌͂̋̎͂-̧᷿͉᷿̫᷿᷿ͧ͂͐̉̋͂ͨ͟-̴͙᷿᷿̫᷿᷿̀͂͆̊͋͂̃̕-̧̞᷿᷿̬̫̗᷿᷿̭̃͂̍̅͂-᷿̥᷿͎̫͍᷿᷿͂͋̂͂᷉̓͘-᷿̟᷿̫᷿᷿̞ͥ͂᷉͊͂͐̚͘-̸᷿̞̯᷿̫᷿᷿͛͂᷅͂̓᷀͟-᷿᷿̗̫᷿͉᷿̐͛͂ͭ᷄͂͠͏-̧̗᷿̭᷿̫̫᷿̪᷿ͮ͂̌͂ͭ-̵᷿᷿̫͔᷿᷿᷁͂᷀᷄͂̐͝͠-̸̡̧᷿᷿͖᷿̫̰᷿᷿ͬ͂͂ͅ-᷿̱᷿̫̹᷿̜᷿̼͊͂ͥ᷉᷇͂-̧̠᷿᷿̫᷿᷿̪̄͂̎̉̈͂͡-̶̵᷿͕᷿̫᷿̯᷿̩͂͒̀͒͂-̛᷿᷿̫᷿᷿̎ͬ͂᷄̑̐͂̏̄-̵᷿᷿̫᷿͉᷿̅ͧ͂᷅᷁͂͟͟-᷿̳᷿͙̫᷊᷿᷊᷿᷾͂ͮ̂͂͡-̴̶̶᷿̙᷿̫̥᷿᷿̾͂̈́͂͡-᷿̹᷿̫̞᷿̝᷿᷈̎͂̔͂̃᷅-̷̟᷿᷿᷿͈̫᷿᷿͂̅̅͂̎̒-᷿᷿᷊̫̱᷿͙᷿᷀ͨ͂᷇͂̍͝-᷿͙᷿̦̫͍᷿᷿̫͂̆͛͂̔͞-᷿᷿ͪͪ͂̊͏̫᷿̫᷿᷄͂̆̄-᷿᷿̫᷿̖᷿͂ͣ᷃ͯ͂̑̑͟͡-᷿᷿᷊̫̰᷿᷿̘ͮͨ͂᷆͂͘͠-᷿᷿̫̝᷿̪᷿ͦ͂᷀͂̿́̕͝-̶᷿̘᷿̤̫᷿᷿͂ͩ͂̃ͨ̚͞-᷿̘᷿̱̫̞᷿̹̣᷿̯̑͆͂͂-᷊᷿̹͓᷿̫̻᷿̝᷿͂͂᷀̕͡-᷿͓ͩ͂͏᷿͖̫᷿̗᷿̾͂͜͞
-- powerNexus [PN] began pestering ceruleanTotality [CT] --
PN: Hello.
CT: Hello.
PN: I was told that you could help me with something.
CT: Okay.
PN: There are rumours of you being the CEO of a large company...
PN: That manufactures weapons.
CT: I am CEO of a large company.
CT: I do not manufacture weapons though.
CT: I manufacture ships.
PN: What kind?
CT: Space.
PN: I assumed as much.
PN: How good are your warships?
CT: Well, that depends on what you need them for, doesn't it?
PN: What are warships used for?
CT: Right.
CT: Who are you going to war against?
PN: Guess.
CT: I'd rather not.
PN: Anyone we need to.
PN: Project Nexus isn't actually a military organization.
PN: But actually just the recruitment branch of one.
PN: Or we were.
PN: I propose a trade.
PN: I supply you with troops.
PN: You supply me with ships to put my troops in.
CT: I'm afraid my ships aren't the type to be able to carry troops.
CT: They are all automated.
CT: No life support systems to speak of.
PN: I see.
PN: Easily remedied though.
PN: Most of my soliders do not require life support systems.
CT: Fair enough.
PN: Also. Foot troops can go many places large warships cannot.
PN: And are also immune to EMPs for the most part.
CT: Yes, that is a weakness my ships have.
CT: But I usually leave that problem to my clients.
PN: If you have live soldiers within your own ships, they can pilot them when EMPs disable the AI
CT: My ships don't come with manual controls.
CT: Because I do not hire people to run them
CT: I run factories, not a militia.
PN: Is it too hard to add manual controls?
PN: But no.
PN: I can see this deal will not work.
CT: Not difficult.
CT: But unprofitable.
CT: I don't think it will either.
CT: Goodbye.
-- powerNexus [PN] ceased pestering ceruleanTotality [CT] --
DTG Co Labs
Nope, sorry guys, no Destroy the Godmodder relevant stuff here...
At least, not yet.
Oh no
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Also, I find that while the editor's built in undo button is broke as hell, my browser's undo works just fine.
happen
Somehow, I ended up GM-ing this thing over at Bay12;
http://www.bay12forums.com/smf/index.php?topic=149024.870
Just message me and let me know. I'll switch to Phobos's chum handle (powerNexus) so you can initiate the deal with him.
DTG Co Labs
Nope, sorry guys, no Destroy the Godmodder relevant stuff here...
At least, not yet.
My answer is one that has been repeated many times to you, and one that should be apparent to you, thanks to your recent Scratch of your own First Block (yes, my ascension gave me knowledge of the future, at least, of your own war, since it runs parallel to mine). Minecraft is not a game. It is its own universe, with galaxies, stars, and planets, with their own lives. Of course, you all know this already. But my point is that Mojang, revered here as gods, have changed this universe's spacetime and somehow layered it into raw coding, turning this universe into a game that can be played in your universe.
Why? I haven't a clue. But know that every object that will ever be added to Minecraft, and scores upon scores of ones that won't, already exist in its universe, which is how I was able to use the First Block when it was available to you, and how objects in 1.7 will be in use here. So, yes. The War took place at that day. But let us head back a bit.
Shortly after my ascension, I experimented with the versatility and scope of my newfound powers. They allowed me to change space and time around myself, at will. I traveled the globe with these abilities, changing things wherever and whenever I could. People tried to fight me. I recognized and blocked every attack before they even happened. I was unstoppable. My powers were those of a god. And I could make anything, even from the Mods players outside from my own world could create.
So it was that I dubbed my powers "godmodding", since they were godlike, and could modify the world around them.
With these skills, I quickly toppled most of the major governments of the world and waged havoc on the cube I called home, establishing my own rule in their places shortly thereafter. Many governments sent their own armies at me, but how could they kill a being who knew, in advance, what every one of their attacks would be? Exactly. They could not. The world fell to me in short order. My plans for it were simple. I was to use the resources of the earth, and the people, to forge the greatest weaponry and fleets known to Minecraft. I would scourge the galaxies, ruling every Minecraft world populated with multiplayer servers... It was to be my life's work. But it was put to a stop... By them.
Winter.
A winter day heralded the beginning of the War; I'll never forget the raging blizzard that took place outside of my Throne Room. I hadn't stationed any guards or traps or alert systems around it, as I didn't need to, with my power levels. And yet, I was still a bit surprised when a figure walked into my room unannounced. He was dressed in holy garb, a cyan shirt, navy pants, and grey boots. Atop his head was a helmet forged from diamonds. In his left hand, a sword gleaming purple. In his right, a jet-black egg speckled with magenta. He looked up at me, and I recognized the face. It was the matured version of the one that survived the Siege of Sodermalm with me, the only other one.
Steve. The Player. TT2000's Ancestor.
He gripped his sword, and I knew what he would say before he said it. He wanted to fight me. I grinned, of course, accepting. With my godlike powers, I held the world in my iron grip. I had never seen defeat. A sight that, unfortunately, would behold itself to me soon enough. The fight started innocently enough. I equipped my usual fare of warfare, intent on bringing the Player down. But, something about him made him incredibly hard to pin down. An aura of holiness surrounded him. He had just taken down his Enderdragon, I thought. Being the Player, he had to have had some level of power.
I was correct. He had somehow crafted a more streamlined, focused version of my Godmodding abilities, and was using them against me. We were evenly matched, strike for strike, each of us mirroring the other's actions. Eventually, somehow, he was tiring me out. Notch must have been favoring him, for he eventually, in one solid strike, sliced my face, absolving me of one eye. He then switched his sword out for a hammer. The Hammer of Notch, the one that, in legend, was used in conjunction with the Divine Anvil to forge the world as we know it.
The Hammer, bathed in golden light, slammed into me, inflicting the first real pain I had ever felt since my rise to power. He relieved me of an arm. Beaten, I fell to the ground. Steve, however, had inflicted injuries of his own, but they were not fatal. He grinned, and told me that, in a week, him and eight others would start a war against me. I looked at him with a hate unmatched to this very day. My pride forced me to accept. He laughed, and left my chamber. That was my first taste of defeat. It would not be my last.
I spent the next week honing my skills to what I believed to be perfection. I created a Black Fortress, built from my meager throne room, and enchanted Sentries to guard it, armed with holy weaponry. I forged Turrets from the cores of dwarf stars, that would relentlessly pursue a single target, switching between thousands of different weapon sets. I strip-mined an entire Province of the World and gathered enough ores to create magnificent, eldritch versions of normal Minecraft monsters that I dubbed Terrors, who were loyal to me, and me alone.
Eventually, I considered myself ready for war. I had learned, to a great extent, what my powers could be used for, and my ever-replenishing army would defend me well in battle. And then, the day arrived. Just as Steve had predicted, they came, through a great fog, onto my battlefield. I hid the Castle deep underground, where it could not be touched, and watched your Ancestors arrive. Even today, I remember their names.
The Soldier. ninjatwist321's Ancestor.
The Alchemist. Modpack's Ancestor.
The Hidden. engie_ninja's Ancestor.
The Kerbal. OpelSpeedster's Ancestor.
The Spelunker. Minor107's Ancestor.
The Veteran. Talist's Ancestor.
The Sleuth. Irecreeper's Ancestor.
The Captain. Crusher48's Ancestor.
Together, they stood as nine players, who came from the four corners of the universe in order to put an end to my reign. We stood, unblinking, waiting for the other to make a move. Yet, our silence in and of itself spoke volumes. For it was the beginning of War.
Twin, maybe you could write it in a text editor then copy/paste and insert styles? Then your writing will still be there if it is deleted.
You could also see if the mods could restore it or something.
/null
And that's why you should use Microsoft WordNah, I'm not THAT insensitive. Trust me Twin, from the time I've spent managing various games, I feel your pain! I would accidentally "go back" all the time and lose entire posts! The new forum added a "confirm leave page" thingy that helps prevent that. At first I was all "If theres one good thing that came out of this, it's that", but now I realize its in exchange for the editor TAKING IT AWAY DIRECTLY. Ugh. FIX BUGS FASTER ADMINS!Check out my bad CTM map reviews here.
It is a problem with Text To BBCode not working. I think.
/null
I usually do. I forgot this one time, and I paid the price. :/
PLEASESAYNOPLEASESAYNOPLEASESAYNOPLEASESAYNO I was looking forward so much to seeing who our ancestors were. WHY FORUMS WHY
Oh no
/null