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I match the new Omniverse background :awesome:

Attached files: New_File(2).mp3 (3MB)

Warning! The file may be corrupt. Open anyways?

The familiar struggle of Okor's voice begins anew, rasping through a corrupted vox.
"My Lord.

I... apologize for my recent absence. The Smiling One, as always, sought to make fools of us all. Many Primes were forced into his latest farce. I still await the aftermath to be known. I... encountered Colonel. He is a more than suitable subordinate. It is good to see some vestiges of sanity retained in Omni's realm of madness.

Speaking of madness. During the events of what has been known as 'The... Hero's Graveyard', I was separated from the Institute forces present. According to a 'Smith', Wolfe and Colonel were deceived into betraying their fellow Primes in the battle by the former Dante's Abyss champion.

As your... Dean of Security, I believe it my duty to administer... justice. We are all prisoners of The Smiling One, and the actions of this... Sasuke, have eroded the trust we place in each other. And to use The Institute for his own selfish goals?

My Lord, I humbly ask for permission to secure the Omniverse, by ridding it of a serpent. We seek peace, and it cannot flourish while wastes of life seek to poison the realm for their own benefit.

This has been Okor Paleblood. I await your response."

Probably gonna grab Blue. I'm thinking about having a team theme, but I can't decide on one. I'll probably grab a Persian for my crew, so maybe cats? Was there even a lot of cats in Gen 1?

You ever wake up in the hospital after a long night of debauchery and alcoholism? Everything is so damn quiet and peaceful, except for the damn hearbeat monitor reminding you that you're not yet dead. The first thing that hits you is the realization that you are indeed alive, followed by the cold panic of not remembering how you got there. The hole bored in your chest from a small-caliber weapon gives you a rough idea of what happened. But, the hole in your memory proves to be a pernicious source of worry, what exactly happened? So the next step, after the realization and after the panic is damage control. Who was with you? What did you do? When did it happen? Where did it happen? Why did someone plug you in the chest? The five “W”s. It feels like a police investigation... well, it probably will be.

Perhaps this analogy isn't very relatable.

Regardless, its what I imagine waking up in the Underverse feels like. At least that's how it felt to me. The realization of being in hell, followed by the panic of memory loss, and lastly damage control. My mouth tasted like ash and all I could smell was the pungent stench of sulfur. Every muscle ached and every bone felt shattered, but every heartbeat reminded me that I was painfully alive. The Empire had a nasty way of dealing with dogs that dared pull against their leash. You see, I've got an issue with authority. I know, I know, bad trait for a soldier right? The higher ups didn't like that I had a mind of my own, and this was my penance for daring to disobey them. This one way trip to hell was sponsored by the greatest minds within the Empire's fold. A special harness, designed to establish a link between Coruscant and the Underverse, and to allow relatively safe travel between the two verses. Well, it didn't work.

Timothy was a friend of mine when I was very young. Real young, like first or second grade young. We lived in a small midwest suburban town, the sleepy kind of town where everyone knew each other. We played the kind of games that little kids would. Our domain was the entire block on which we lived, crossing the street was strictly forbidden by our parents. Well one day little Timothy grew some balls and convinced me to cross the street to explore the rest of the neighborhood. We stood at the edge of the road, near the crest of a hill. This spot was a sort of sanctuary, the hill concealed the view of our houses, and subsequently the watchful eye of our parents. Our first foray into the unknown was cut short, little Timmy started to cross and tripped over his own shoelaces. He faceplanted into the asphalt and I began to laugh at the poor kid in the way that good friends laugh at each other's slight misfortunes. The bright chrome grille of a 1993 Cadillac Deville peeked over the crest of the hill and came barreling towards my downed friend. It would be ruled as an accidental homicide, the angle of the sun and hill more or less blinded the driver and Timmy's fallen frame was already impossible to see. Waking up in the Underverse is what I imagine little Timmy must've felt as his mother ran him over and his best friend laughed.

Unmitigated fucking shock.

I try not to think about Timothy, but every now and again, when I'm faced with the absurdity of existence, I remember that hot summer's day. The horrible pained expression plastered across Timmy's face as he expired in the middle of that suburban road. The panicked hysterical face of a mother who had accidentally killed her own child. Yeah, I try not to think about it, but it does remind me that death happens and it isn't fucking pretty. If you're a fan of Judeo-christian theology, then little Timmy would be smiling down upon us from his bed made of clouds. Unfortunately, not all of us are so lucky. Some of us wind up down in the pit of eternal torture, Dante Alighieri's Inferno. At least that's where I found myself after pulling against my leash and going where I wasn't supposed to go. To me it doesn't seem fair, Timothy pulled against his parent's wishes, and subsequently died for it, but he's the one that gets the pearly gates? Sounds like bullshit to me, lucky little bastard.

The most important step after panicking and realization is damage control. There isn't much to do for damage control if you wake up in the Underverse, the damage has already been done. Still, the Empire bastards let me keep my gear and weapons for this fun little vacation. Several days worth of rations and basic survival tools, along with my trusty Flak cannon and retractable spear. The earth was cracked red clay and the sky was a sea of ash and cinders. Around me pillars of red stone stretched upwards each of them covered in sore-like geysers belching smog into the atmosphere. This place was no doubt the machinations of some devil or spiteful entity. Life wasn't allowed to exist without paying a toll measured in pain and suffering.

I had yet to pay the toll for my audacity to live in the Underverse

The familiar void of the nexus rose up to meet Okor, the empty expanse filling his vision as he plummeted, the Angel of Death falling from the wraith-infested world from whence he came. The hulk of decrepit flesh and rusted armour tumbled through the air, limbs flailing as the plague marine made his return to reality.

His landing was not graceful. There was no potential for grace within his body or mind, every fiber of his being bent towards simple, overwhelming brutality. Violence was written into his genome, armour melded to his bones, acid sizzled within his throat. Whatever humanity that once dwelled within his rotting remains had long since been discarded, the flesh-shapers and genetors throwing away innocence, burning it away on the flames of the Emperor’s ambition. He had lost a family, a planet, an empire, a war. But now, he’d lost the Legion.

He landed hard against the surface utterly devoid of detail, his massive weight bouncing upon landing, cracked bones and ceramite rolling against the perfectly flat nothingness.

He forced himself upwards, shattered bones regrowing and mending as their jagged ends bit into his redundant organs, sinking into hole-ridden lungs, tearing at barbed, hungry tendrils nestled within a digestive tract that had eliminated the middleman.

He had failed, again. Struck down on the field of battle, cast into the abyss without bringing a soul down with him.

It was disgraceful.

He clenched his steel-clad fist, the patina coating his armour like that of a bloated corpse floating face down in an idle, algae-infested river. It was as old as his own ancient self, every servo-motor, every strand of synthetic muscle having given as much to the long war as he had. The neural sensors and transfusion ports had long since bonded to his skin, the fusion of man and machine irreversible. Even know, he could feel the static burning, burning, burning into his back, the discordant screams of the machine spirit within demanding an explanation, ammunition counters still registering maximal, his weapons unbloodied despite his loss of what little vital signs he had. It was an inconceivable notion to the simplistic, belligerent intelligence that inhabited his wargear.

Error. Error. Error. The simple message burnt itself onto his display, an accusation of his failures, of the great mistake that was his existence. Some days, he could almost believe it was correct in its judgement. Did he even deserve to don this relic of the Great Crusade, to offer its integrity up to the foe to save his own hide? Targeting reticules dotted his sight, analyzing the structural integrity of his surroundings, inspecting reality in the hopes of finding its breaking point.

He saw it.

A furrow on the detritus of his hand, a gleam of tarnished metal peering through the accumulated dirt of millennia. He twisted his deadened appendage, staring at the ivory embedded within the infection. A dim, purplish aura suffused it, a meager remnant of the world-shaking power once possessed by its original owner.

That Warlock had been as a god in its realm, its strength undeniable as it the creation it shared with the forgotten hero was rent asunder. And now, it was sans a tooth. Skarbrand had earned his place in legend for simply striking out at Khorne, and now here he was, the blood of a god staining his hands, a fragment of divine bone clutched in his grasp.

He rose from his reclined position, the warlock’s fang still merged with his knuckle. He raised his bared hand, pressing a fleshless finger to the side of his helmet, the dataverse overriding his perception of the world.

He had work to do.

The tawny, well-muscled woman hefted the crate up from the cobbled stones of the street, turned, and dropped it onto the angled wooden beams of her stand.

“Yes, well,” she said dismissively, “maybe it's time they all just give up on such frivilous things.” She pulled a short, metal pry-bar from her belt and jammed it into the uppermost seam of the wood. She wriggled it up and down, the nails squeaking as it came loose. “Every time one of those meetings forms, all of the members wind up dead, or worse!” She lifted the lid off the crate, revealing a vibrant assortment of fruits. “Besides, our omnilium goes to food and shelter now instead of gold for the king’s coffers.”

The thin, hooded man reached into the display and plucked a fresh pomegranate out. “You think with your stomach, Tiana. Don't you have any sense of loyalty?” He snaked his head back and forth, peering into the shadows nervously. “Gilgamesh and his disciples founded this city, let us in!” He placed another hand atop the fruit and twisted it in two, juice leaking over his fingers. “We must strike out against the attackers. Take our city back!”

“And how do you plan to do that, Jahar?” She spat back at him, peeling open another display. “If they can do what they have done, how can you stand up to them, if you even knew where they were?”

Jahar took a bite from the pink flesh, and spoke with his mouth full. “We will find them,” he said, voice soaked in confidence. “As far as fighting them? We can rely upon Sasuke. He is more than capable of sending them away.”

Tiana slammed her balled fists down, wood splintering violently. “And where is he, Jahar?!” Her eyes were ablaze now, the thin veil of patience torn away with rage. “Where is our supposed leader? Where was he when we were attacked, and where is he now?” She cast her arm in a wide, angry arc over the ransacked city. “What kind of leader abandons his people? What kind of friend shinks from battle, for feae of losing his little trinkets? I spit on Sasuke!” And she did spit before waving her hand at Jahar, dismissing him. “And you speak about loyalty... We are alone, now.”

The spidery rebel scowled and tossed his snack into the dirt and shook his head. “I see you have work to do. I'll leave you to it,” he snapped, clearly disgusted. With a final baleful glance, he turned and stormed away.

He pushed through the crowded market, carefully walking around the giant crater that had been torn into the street. He shook his head at the reminder of his city's devastation, each chip in the stone, every scorch marked wall, boltering his conviction.

He drew his hood up around his head and turned sharply into a nearby alleyway, his features instantly concealed in the darkness.

Darting through the shadows, Jahar negotiated his path through the byways, past shady nooks and box-crowded crannies, until he arrived at a doorway.

He reached his hand out, rapped the steel frame three times, paused, and twice more. When the slide opened, a gravelly voice demanded, “Password?”

“Golden King,” Jahar replied.

The slide snapped shut, and the clank of the lock resounded. With a creak, the door opened. “Welcome back, friend,” a portly merchant said, his elegant mustache bouncing. “Who is your friend? A new recruit?”

Jahar’s eyebrow quirked. “What?” He asked in confusion, and turned to look behind.

There, in the gloom, a figure stood, draped in a ragged, linen cloak.

“Who goes?” Jahar demanded, a tint of panic in his voice. When there was no reply, he shouted, “Who are you?!”

A red hand drifted upwards, a glint of gold reflecting from it as it drew down the hood. “Oh, you could say I was a friend.” Sinestro offered a cruel grin and pointed his fist in their direction. “Just not yours.”

Fear overtook them.

So, hopefully at some point in the next few weeks we will be switching forum software to MyBB. The main reason I'm doing this is for some extra functionality that simply isn't available on PHPBB.

For example, the biggest thing that I've wanted for a while is a sub account system. Now, there are account switching systems on PHPBB. However they're not nearly as smooth. I want people to have a single hub account that they can name whatever they want - G0Df1re or whatever - and then have characters as sub accounts. This way there is less confusion about who the hell is who when people switch characters. Subaccounts will be listed on your profile so it's easy to see who is who.

It also makes posting as different characters a whole lot easier. You never actually have to log out of your main account. When you go to make a topic or reply from your primary account, there is a drop-down menu that allows you to make that post from any of your accounts. The resultant OM then goes straight to that account.

This is the main functionality but there's also a lot of other bells and whistles we can look forward to. Up voting posts, comments on profiles, and just being a lot newer and fresher than PHPBB. Xenforo would have been my ideal but you have to pay for the software and to retain updates, and also for most add-ons. That puts real pressure on the site to get income. With MyBB we will never go out-of-date, and mods will always be readily available due to it being probably the most-used free forum software.

Right now I am just in the ideas stage and getting everything working as I'd like on a test forum. With that said with me being at the beginning stage, I'd like to ask you guys if there are any particular features you would like to be added. Alex has already begged me to try and allow for more themes. I personally would like to enable chat box with multiple tabs to allow people to splinter off and have some room to discuss different things. Maybe even private chat tabs for factions if possible. I'd also like to have word/character count be integrated so it can be viewed straight beneath posts. Just a few ideas.

Nealaphh Wrote:The ability to add people to my own faction subforum would be nice.

Proto Man Wrote:A member mentioned something akin to this is chat (and this might be ridiculous and something that can't be done), but it might be fun to have some sort of music player that is queued up with some fun ambient sound tracks.

I'll settle for theme colors other than gray, white, and off-white though =O

Gildarts Wrote:As someone who doesn't have chat access or for those who don't prioritize using the mini chat, I like the idea of being able to leave a message for other people to see on someone who happens to click my profile.

Pretty much a "status" if you will. Kind of the way Skype does it o=

Or even an activity list, like what projects you're actively working on. Flag options like:
"I'm working on a post in the void"
Or "I'm trying to think of an idea to apply in the pale Moors"

Could increase member activity and communication, as well as broadcast and promote working together a bit more. To start out you could have general ones and then the general verse it applies to, but perhaps there could be a "note" feature underneath, letting you offer up more detail on the idea, or that you're looking for someone interested to PM you.

Dark Link Wrote:One feature that has been requested in the past, and one that I agree should be implemented (if possible), would be an auto-save draft feature. If we had that and a word counter built in, I'd probably go back to doing all my writing on the site itself again.

Quote:Self: make name changing and other donation stuff easier!

Quote:[04:17:56] Ivan Grossman: First one is like badges next to people's names to denote staff members and member's of the month
[04:18:36] Ivan Grossman: Second one is to have like a "featured thread" on the sidebar or something so that kickass stories/threads are featured for newbies to read and get hyped about.

Thor walked down the cobblestone roads escorted by the armored men. He looked at the clustered houses of stone that ran along either side of the road. It wasn't Asgard but it made him feel at home all the same. He held his head high and walked with purpose even though he knew not where the mail clad guards were leading him. He thought he saw Loki watching from an alley, but when he looked again nothing was there. He shook his head. He though this ghost had vanished with his death at sea, but unfortunately, it seemed he had been mistaken. Thor saw the blade like tower, cutting through each tier of the kingdom like an axe-head. It was no Asgard, but it was magnificent still in a primitive way. He saw winged horses fly to and fro across the sky and as he watched he saw the floating island that some of them took.
Maybe not so primitive Thor mused to himself.
The guards followed a more or less singular path. Thor was gaining a respect for how big this place was. The path was obviously the main path through the first tier of Minas Tirith and looked as though it paralleled the wall that surrounded its city.  Thor noticed a dark-skinned elf in the street. She was far more beautiful than the dark elves he had encountered. The guards halted and one walked up to the lady elf. The guard took off his helmet to reveal a dirty blond head of hair on top of a normal human head. He spoke with respect.
"Excuse me my lady, Captain Vimes?" He asked.
"Boar's Head." She said.
"Thank you my lady." He said as though the answer was expected. He dawned his helmet and returned to the group. "Move men, usual place."
The guards began to march again, Thor and his companions were taken with. To Thor's surprise and mild amusement they stopped at a tavern. 'The Boars Head' carved into a sign above the door. They entered. There weren't many people in the tavern and only one at the bar. He was dressed in full armor with his helmet sitting on the bar next to him. He had a drink in his hands and Thor could tell it wasn't his first.
The guard that had spoken to the elf once again stepped forward and removed his helmet.
"New primes commander. The one in the red mask said they want work."

Smith is irked by his betrayal in the Graveyard. As such, he is seeking revenge upon those who ended his time there. This is the discussion thread for this.