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((Heh, I held off on responding just so I could give this a completely shameless bump... but you're right Jobi - for anyone entering the roleplay scene on Syntax, the RPers involved with the main storylines on this server are a fantastic group))

End-game content: Although I find plenty to keep me occupied at level 50, I would like the option to do something different during the quieter periods. More regular critical missions; pandora's box etc or possible a refresh of the neighbourhood contacts missions.

Live Events: I'm not one of the people who needs official live events to maintain my interest in this game, and wouldn't go so far as quitting if the LET were completely disbanded, just as long as the storyline was driven forward through an alternate medium. However, I would like to see Player Event tools implemented, as these have as much, if not more, potential than some of the official ones.

Organisational Options: It is slightly frustrating how few options faction and crew leaders have available to them, therefore i'd like to see the implementation of features such as faction HQ's/constructs, faction code storage, faction resource storage etc. In addition, i would like to see greater scope for communication between orgs and allied factions etc - however by the sounds of things, the SOE chat client will be a big step towards this.

Other than that, its really just the same stuff everyone wants to see. Bug fixed, lag resolution etc, as well as tree balancing and new abilities.

Betrayal…

Treachery…

Deceit…

The worlds rattled around his mind relentlessly…

His hard work… finally blossoming into his true identity…

For weeks now, he had dug deeper, forged “alliances” with those who opposed the Cause… Oh how their tongues had betrayed them and given him the currency with which to purchase the affirmation of his loyalty from his saviour… from the man… the machine… the monster that had set him free once more… who had made him… feel…

Zealot, Nimbrel, Jobi, Sykin… all bowed to his trickery, to his deception… and who would blame them? Who would suspect him? Of all people… filled with stories of his anger towards the Masked… his desire to exact revenge… So desperate were they to gain an extra pair of hands to assist their doomed attempts against the Agenda that they didn’t think to stare him in the eyes… his cold, dark and unfeeling eyes… resonating pure hatred… utter disgust at this new race… these “awakened”… those who threatened his future… and his return to his past…

And for his fleet… like lambs to the slaughter they had followed him blindly towards this point… when iExplorer vanished, they turned to him for guidance, for support and for answers… little did they know that iExplorer was gone… for good… he had taken care of that…

A smile crosses his face as he recalls the countless hours spent dissecting his former commanders coding; integrating his own routing programs into the core database of each and every one of the CodeMason fleet… now holding their fate in the palm of his hand… they could either join him or oppose him… the decision was theres now…

He bowed his head slightly, staring passively towards the tempered flooring on which he was perched… he was safe here… no-one would find him… no-one would think to look here of all places…

His mood lightened once more as his wand wandered over the futile calls for help from Jobi and Sykin… each had called him, asking for assistance, asking for his allegiance and support before they walked voluntarily into the viper pit… before they came face to face with their deceiver… funny, that in their time of need, the one man they would call upon would within minutes be the one pointing the barrel of his gun squarely towards their misguided heads… he couldn’t of planned it any better…

Why did they do it? Why did they try? All we want is a return to normality… all we want is to go home… to see our families again, our friends, our boring 9-5 office jobs with our pretentious bosses and **bleep** retentive colleagues… all we wanted was to relax, to absorb the company of those around us and enjoy life through its ups and downs… to live… to feel… blissfully unaware of the Matrix… of the pitiful true existence of its enlightened inhabitants… was that so bad? Was that so wrong?

Are we the evil ones? He shakes his head vigorously at this notion… No… they are the ones… they expelled us from Eden and cast us into the living hell of the Real… the ends has never so fittingly justified the means… they were the evil scourging this world… they deserved to be punished… they deserved the pain that would eventually seek them all out and devour every ounce of their being…

His fists tightened as he refocused on unsettled scores… Weezle… he would no doubt come for him… the quiet ones are always the worst apparently… he knew it was only a matter of time… unless he could be turned… Phunkyfella… oh how novel… the one person responsible for kick-starting the chain of events leading to the present day was now in bed with this “Roundtable”… He caused this… and his time would come…

He looked down at the ragged piece of cloth gripped tightly in his hands… it symbolised the pain, the struggle… it was worth it… every single second of his existence in this world had been leading towards this… he had earned is right to freedom… his right to feel, to live, to love… his right… to go home.

Raising it slowly to his face and tying it tightly, he slumped back and closed his eyes… one hand steadily gripping a control panel, the digital image of the Discordia circling around its grubby LCD screen, the other, picking up a loose jack-in node, circling it behind his head as he tried to align it with his socket… with one rapid thrust, he drove it in, jolting slightly backwards, he muttered briefly as his consciousness faded into that of the Matrix…

“Time to make them feel… each and every one of them….”

Rarebit wrote:

kingcaw wrote:
Ah - heres one - why was the ability to add LET members to your buddy list removed?

I don't know about it being removed. But if it's anything like the reason why you can't send them tells, it's because the name you see on your screen is usually not their real name, but just a database hack--because even we can't have two characters with the same name between servers.

Strange, as we used to be able to send them /tells, and as far as i'm aware it has always been a database hack/cloaked name on each server. Although I do agree it was probably stopped because of massive spam - just strange that they turned that function off completely.

And since I got in here - would you pass on Split Infinitys invitation to all devs etc to attend one of our many Xmas Tour parties, as advertised in the events forum? :smileyvery-happy: (Shameless plug!!!)

Message Edited by kingcaw on 12-15-2005 10:57 AM

This is gonna sound really bad...

When I decided to start aiming for my character to become Masked, it was based around him wanting to 'feel' again, and the beating he took off Espi was the first thing to do that in a while...

That managed to remind "me" of what it felt like to be alive, and seeing that life flowing through Espi's eyes made me want it even more...

Anyway, my girlfriend was quizzing me about the game because she saw me writing an insertion to the Evolution Of The Wicked chapter.

When I explained my character being driven by his desire to feel again, she said it was similair to something that was in..... Buffy The Vampire Slayer :smileyindifferent: (said it would sound bad :smileytongue: )

So anyway, she made me sit down and watch one of the episodes she was referring to, and apparently Buffy died and went to heaven... after she was pulled out, she didn't "feel" alive anymore... and took drastic steps to get that feeling back...

And there you have it... my current RP tangent is inspired by Buffy the bloody vampire slayer.... terrible :smileysad:

The Merv crits in particular were disappointing in a way.... ***POTENTIAL SPOILERS COMING UP...***

...In that a new character was introduced for the sole purposes of the 5 critical missions, and was then destroyed at the end of them. Sure, this helped show that the Commando's were helping the Merv, or at least appearing to help the Merv - but I personally would have prefered if this had been done by staying on track with the actual ongoing storyline, instead of creating a whole new, inconsequential storyline simply for these 5 missions.

This also appears to plant seeds of Flood's possible future dissention from the Merovingian - but again, it would have made so much more sense to implement this into the relevant plotlines - particularly when there is so much to delve into, with the Masked, the Assassin, the Red-Eyes, Neurophyte etc etc.

These crits didn't do much to tell the story or to drive it forward, which is what I see the purpose of critical missions as being.

People might say i'm complaining about nothing - but when the main draw of this game is its story, it is disappointing that the latest crits took on more of a contact mission appearance - in that nothing was of any relevance or importance, and we haven't gained any real knowledge through completing them.

With King its more a lack of emotive sensation rather than actual loss of physical feeling... he can still feel pain, get the emotional reactions to that pain have gone, things like fear, dread, suffering... they have all pretty much faded away into nothing... pushed out of his mind by his 'awakened' state...

Previously, the logical chain reaction substituted this... ie-if he was attacked, he would seek revenge, as it was the logical thing for him to do... for a while he mistook that for anger and feelings of vengeance, but it took his face-off with Espi to make him realise that he had been fooling himself... and to make him actually feel fear...

Since that day he has been tormented by thoughts of his bluepill family, plagued with his memories... love, family, friendship... that is what has led him into the arms of the Masked

He sees violence as a way to make him feel even more... and he needs that feeling to remind him of what he's fighting for, which is a return to normality through reinsertion...

However as his emotions rebuild themselves... he is becoming more and more capable of the whole emotive spectrum... whether things such as guilt, remorse or conscience will creep in remains to be seen.

After spending a mountainous amount of time trying to level the majority of ability trees in the game, i'm at the point where, as I extremely rarely pvp anymore, I have absolutely no use for them.

I have also recently used the RSI hack and focused my character pretty much entirely towards MA...

Therefore i'm getting rid of most of my trees.

All abilities are fully levelled to level 50, however with some trees, I did not bother with some of the 'offshoots', instead focusing on the main branch.

The prices given are based on it taking approximately $i8million to level from 1 to 50, as well a reasonable amount for the time taken to farm fragments, code these abilities, and pay coding costs.

If you require a partial amount of the trees I am selling, then I will work out a price.

Please post all requests here. I will not be in-game very often over the next few weeks, however you can send me a PM to /kingcaw if I pop on. I do keep my eye on these forums extremely regularly each and every day, so will jack-in if you wish to make a purchase.

HACKER ABILITIES

Upgrade Master

Price: $i 22.5million

From 'Repair And Upgrade' to 'Upgrade Master'

Excludes:

Efficiency

Delete Upgrade 1.0 + 2.0

Movement Accelerator 2.0 + 3.0

Bolster Health 2.0 + 3.0

Network Attacker (partial)

Price: $i 14million

From 'Effective Code' to 'Network Hacker'

Excludes:

Crash

Code Stop 1.0

Buffer Overflow 1.0 +2.0

Freeze Area 2.0

Code Flux (PLEASE NOTE THAT THIS ABILITY IS REQUIRED TO EQUIP 'NETWORK ATTACKER')

Ravager (partial)

Price: $i 14million

From 'Hostile Programming' to 'Ravager'

Excludes:

Destroy Resolve 1.0

Freeze System 2.0 + 3.0

Infect Area 1.0 + 2.0

Destroy Health

Code Infection 3.0 (PLEASE NOTE THAT THIS ABILITY IS REQUIRED TO EQUIP RAVAGER)

Destroyer

Price: $i 26million

From 'Resist Infection' to 'Destroyer'

Excludes:

Plague Zone 1.0

Enrage Foes

OPERATIVE ABILITIES

Data Miner

Price: $i 9million

From 'Find Data Node' to 'Data Miner'

Master Shadow

Price: $i 40million (includes Disguise, Lock-Picks, 6th Sense, Invisibility+Improved Invisbility all levelled to 50)

From 'Disguise' to 'Master Shadow'

Excludes:

Desperate Speed

Canny Strike

Shifty Technique

Ghost Strike

Master Assassin

Price: $i 21.5million

From 'Improved Sneak Attack' to 'Master Assassin'

Excludes:

Suplex

Master Knife Thrower

Price: $i 28.5million

From 'Weak Points' to 'Master Knife Thrower'

Excludes:

Blinding Throw

Wounding Throw

Subduing Throw

Sniper

Price: $i 9.5million

From 'Concealment' to 'Sniper'

Master Rifleman

Price: $i 25million

From 'Rifles' to 'Master Rifleman'

Excludes:

Disabling Shot

Threee Round Burst

Rifle Butt Smash

Deadly Shot

SMG Specialist

Price: $i 25million

From 'Submachine Guns' to 'SMG Specialist'

Excludes:

Controlled Burst

Full Auto Redux

Full Auto

CODER ABILITIES

Utility Master

Price: $i 17.5million

From 'Deflect Code' to 'Utility Master'

Excludes:

Bash

Enrage Foes

Acoustic Decoys 1.0 + 2.0

Low Blow

Stop Proxy 1.0

Well, I laughed too, for about a minute - before being stuck there for over an hour, seeing people spam area chat with 'MERV U SUCK D*CK!!!', 'MERV IS A F*G'... whereas I think all I said was something about justice being done for Enmascarado's death (refering to the Assassin being killed).

I agree with Chuii - the LE spawns need tweaking, as now, once again - the focus of people during this event is veering towards clammoring around Mara C hoping to get a bite of the corrupted cherry.

As thankful as I am that we are finally seeing the relaunch of Live Events, I pray to god that this one does not follow the pattern of previous events, in that too much of the action revoles around Mara Central - that place does not need another reason for people to hang around there.

Also, just as a side note... in case you didn't figure out from the fact I coded so many ability trees... i'm very materialistic... I like to have as many exclusive or notable things as possible..

The one thing I still haven't got my hands on is a Sakura Bandana... If you have one, I will be willing to trade it at a value of 25million info against any of these trees. I would not normally pay that much for it, as when we look at its true value, there are too many people paying way over the odds, with prices escalating over 50mil in some cases...

I will not give, for example, 5million worth of abilities and 20mil in info... however, if the ab tree you want works out at, say 20million, then I am flexible with regards paying the remaining 5mil in info.

The Sakura Bandana is the only thing I will negotiate on - so please, no haggling over the prices of these ab trees :smileyvery-happy:

Darth Vader you say?... *heads off to SWG*

*slips Kanjo a dirty brown envelope*

So, Procurator... you stood against my fleet with CodeMasons, and now you stand against my fleet with Retribution... i'm starting to get the feeling you don't like me very much...

*sighs mockingly* Such a shame, oh well, I suppose thats another name to add to the list...

Although this thread may very well be asking for trouble, here goes...

I'm not looking for game-bugs or general complaints about aspects of the game, i'm looking for those little niche things that just niggle at you and drive you crazy while playing... (not things like 'sound loop bug' or 'getting ganked' etc etc)

My number one pet peeve has to be.. people who refer to Factions as 'fractions'

So, cmon, just for the hell of it, lets hear all of yours, and try n keep this thread light-hearted :smileytongue:

Beleive it or not, there are players who do not have the ability to code themselves, just as there are those who do not want to spend time farming for red frags and codebits, or spend ages standing coding the abilities.

As for the price - I worked completely off approximate figures here. In actuality, the cost of fully levelling as well as the actual coding cost most likely is higher than some of the prices i'm selling the trees for. I am not desperate to get rid of them, its doing me no harm whatsoever to keep these trees in my inventory.

All I have looked to do is recoup the money that was spent on crafting these trees, and in turn save people out there the hassle of doing their own farming and coding. Tell me, would a baker, who spends hours making cakes, then sell those cakes for a price lower than the cost of the ingredients?

However...I do admit that I considered possibly knocking some of the prices down, as I realise there are people out there who just don't have that kind of $i available to them.

Message Edited by kingcaw on 09-08-2005 07:47 AM

Easiest way to get your hands on a lock-pick is to start a new character - as far as i'm aware you start the game with one already in your inventory, unless they have changed things. Then simply mule it off to one of your friends

((Gawdammit... I spent over half an hour typing my entry straight onto the board... first time i've ever skipped out on using Word first... and the connection crashed when I submitted it... *cries like a schoolgirl* ))

Message Edited by kingcaw on 08-31-2005 10:39 AM

I'm still sulking about being frozen and silenced by an admin for Roleplaying 2 lines about the Masked, despite people around me spamming the hell out of area chat.

Otherwise it seems it was a return to the form of the last 2 or 3 Monolith events. Perhaps the format of 'hunt, meeting, hunt, meeting, kill' is becoming stale - however I think that for the purposes of finishing off the Assassin, then thats the only format that could have been used.

I enjoyed the introduction of actually using event-specific critical missions for the Flit-gun, and as I sense that these will play more of a part in driving forward the events of the diminished LET, then I have high hopes for the future.

Obvious problems include lag, as well as the annoyance of continuous system messages from our Org reps.

Overall - i'm just glad we've had an event - there have been enough positives to inspire hope for future events, and enough negatives around which the LESIG will hopefully have somewhere solid to start their suggestions from.

Message Edited by kingcaw on 10-03-2005 01:27 AM

Sorry guys...

This party has now been postponed until Friday 26th August due to unforeseen circumstances.

He wasn't necessariyl jacking out - could have been teleporting...

And the standing around doing very little confused me too... unless the beret realised that he was gonna need a hell of a bigger gun to do any susbtantial damage.

The stench engulfed him, clouding his every thought, stifling him with every breath. It had been this way for weeks now, every since he left the comfort of his ship, ever since he turned his back on his fleet

He looked down at his battered hands, thick with dirt and grime, his knuckles caked with blood, deep scratches and scrapes bored into them, their painful sting intensifying with every beat of his pulse.

His very life had been slipping from him, day by day… he pictured the sanctum of his former abode… warmth, shelter… food….

Staring down at an empty tin, the last of his rations, his stomach seemed to taunt him, growling with desperate hunger, as if to mock him for his self-induced plight.

Why hadn’t he gone with Espi? Why didn’t he take him up on his offer of a place on his ship? Why was he putting himself through this hell? These same questions resonated through his head with blistering intensity, blocking out the endless commotion around him.

His head hung low as he tried to piece together the next step… he had tried to think of nothing more during the last few tempestuous days, yet his mind was slipping and his thoughts were beginning to betray him; paranoia taking a firm grasp, he had spent countless hours with his blaster pointed firmly on the entrance to his makeshift new home, convinced that within seconds someone would hunt him down…yet they never came.

For weeks leading up to his abandonment, he had toyed with his failsafe, he case it a sideways glance… and glimmering LED screen providing the only light in the room, schematics of The Discordia.. the crown jewel of the CodeMason fleet, danced around its pixelated display… a flurry of key-presses and he could vaporise it… but not yet…

His attention diverted to the pile of cables and boxes providing support for his datapad… a discharged compressor generator, haphazardly hooked up to a manual jack-in cable… he had been too weak to recharge the generator by hand as of late… he had no idea of the events unfolding within the Matrix… was there even a Matrix to return to? Only time would tell…

He gritted his teeth firmly and thought of home, his mother, his brother and sister… and her. They would lead him to salvation, they would drive him forward in his journey… whatever happened, that could never be taken from him. He knew that if he was reinserted… WHEN he was reinserted… that those people would mean nothing to him… that they would be erased from his memory, from his heart and his soul… but he would have life once again… he would have family once again, finally, he would be able to love.

A loud clatter distracted him from his wonderment… this was not the usual passing of ships or groaning of steel, this was an intruder…

Reaching out swiftly, his weary muscles channelled the remaining few ounces of energy he had left to grab his blaster and flick the switch to power it up… swinging it round to the doorway and resting it on his bruised legs… he waited…

Finger tightly on the trigger he caught his breath as he searched through the darkness… had the CodeMasons finally come for him? To stop him? Has Jobi and his band of merry misfits taken a detour? Or was it Aiyalla following through on her promise to bring him fresh supplies of food? He waited ever still…

A shadow of a man… a woman… stood perched in the doorway, their breathing was heavy and panicked as they spoke with a tone which implied they had travelled through the bowels of hell itself just to make it…

“Sir… its time.”

Within an instant, Kings face broke into a maniacal smile… his pain, his suffering, finally paying off… it was time for the next step… he jumped to his feet and within seconds his body ran cold, it felt as though he was being drained as the room blurred out of view and his head began to spin… he collapsed to the floor and drifted out of consciousness… with a smile on his face…

Now, it has begun.

Message Edited by kingcaw on 09-05-2005 03:12 PM

Ladies and Gentlemen, conclusive proof that crack is whack :smileyindifferent:

Another thing I'd like to mention is how suprised I was by the amount of time the LET appeared to be in-game - I was expecting them to have much less of a presence.

As much as I do agree that some form of 'collective' consisiting of RPers, PVPers, PvEers, socialites etc etc would be extremely beneficial - this is not the purpose of the council under discussion.

Basically, when Linenoise brought their strong RP scene onto the Syntax server, they brought with it the Rp 'world' in which their characters live. Yes, this world may differ from the world in which a non-RPers exists, this council being a prime example. Within this particular world, there now exists a Zion Council - however that does not extend to anyone else's 'world' if they do not choose it to.

This council will not turn up at Mara, and order a ceasefire, because that is not its purpose. It is an entity designed specifically for the world in which it has been created, and for the characters who choose to 'live' in that world. If you do not reside in that world, or in other words, if you don't roleplay, or have not involved yourself in what is the focal point of the Syntax roleplaying scene, then this council has little to no consequence to you, so theres nothing to get wound up about....

What this DOES do, is creates an extremely accessible gateway for people to join this particular scene. If a faction or a specific group of people want to become involved in this RP scene, the council stands to act as a beacon through which they can integrate themselves within this 'world'... a Zionist crew simply requesting a audience with the Council to voice concerns could be their first step into roleplaying for the first time.

Simply put - this is a Roleplaying Council constructed by roleplayers within the world that their characters inhabit. If you do not inhabit this world and do not wish to do so, then you needn't concern yourself with them, and they won't concern themselves with you unless it is mutual.

I hope i've made some sense... i'm stupidly tired so if what i've said is completely incoherant then I apologise.

Just one or two more points. Firstly regarding the 'elitist' comments (btw Timecist, these comments are directly solely at you, you just reminded me of something I wanted to mention). I came from output, and had been involved in precisely ZERO roleplaying. Since the merge, I have managed to immerse myself within the various ongoing storylines, and have found each and every roleplayer I have encountered to be some of the friendliest, most open, helpful and co-operative people i've met in this game in a long time. So please, I encourage everyone to not be put off by whatever 'elitist' image you may have of these roleplayers.

Also, I think its important to state the difference between roleplayers and Player Event Teams. To the best of my knowledge, the people involved with the main RP scene are NOT player event organisers. Yes, they do organise events within the roleplaying groups, but I do not beleive that any of them claim to organise server-wide player events. Therefore they are not excluding anyone, because their events meet the very people they are specifically created for.

There is, as far as I know, a seperate 'Syntax Player Event Team' - i'm not sure what the link to their site is, however i'm sure it will show up on these forums soon.

Now... i'm off to have a lie-down... long posts... head hurts...

unless its my setting playing up, you can't rate Off-topic threads...

"hammering this puppy"

...Dude... thats just wrong... SMILEY

The rusty iron door on the warehouse slid open with a fierce resistance, the spine-twisting screech wailing throughout the vast open space like a choir of banshee’s.

Brandishing a torch from his pocket, King stepped through, careful to avoid the jagged edges of the door-frame, before swinging it shut once more then shaking his hand to dust off the shards of metal that had coated it.

He could hear the stifled screams in the distance, the pain, the suffering, the torment… he smiled blissfully as he crept slowly down a flight of unstable rotting stairs, the stench of dried blood mixed with fresh filled his nostrils and scintillated his senses. His eyes lit up.

Turning the corner, he could just make out two shadows cast by a flickering gas-lamp, his smile at the sight of one turned to a look of distain at the sight of the other.

Marching forward he looked to the ground as the figures loomed nearer, his eyes cast upon a bloodied stump. The blood was fresh… and not inflicted by his hand.

The dishevelled man lying in silent anguish on the floor was staring in agony as what was once his right foot. With a snicker, King looked upwards towards the slender figure standing over her prey, a revolver gripped tightly in her hand and a look of furious satisfaction smeared behind her mask.

“So… what happened?” asked King, casually with a grin, as though asking for a summary of a television program, his tone showing no reflection or consideration for the gruesome scene before him.

“This little boy wouldn’t do as he was told…” answered a soft voice, tinted with malice “…he tried to run… so I blew his foot off…”

King mocked a flinch at this recounting, and simply replied with a heartfelt smile; “Euphraxia… you amaze me sometimes dear…”

Message Edited by kingcaw on 09-11-2005 04:29 PM

“Has he told you anything yet darling?”

“Nothing… he still refuses to speak…”

“Perhaps I should… “talk” to him…”

Slowly taking the sharpened steel knife from Euphraxia’s grip, King strolled slowly and deliberately to the battered heap of life sprawled on the floor of the warehouse.

Bending to a knee, he dipped the dip of the knife into a clotted puddle of blood, before smearing it slowly across his victims cheek – the sharp edge pressing ever so gently into his skin, enough to bring him to his senses, King stared intently into his eyes.

Without breaking his gaze, and satisfied that this person was awake enough to be aware of what was taking place, King swiftly swung back, before thrusting the knife deep into the side of his chest, a cry of pain filled Kings ears and intensified the fire in his eyes…

“Now…” he spoke; “We’re losing patience with you…”

The cold abandoned warehouse resonated with a deathly silence as King awaiting an acknowledgement... an answer, a voice to break the staredown.

His temper boiling he finally snapped... cursing fluenty and pacing back and forth, muttering expletives under his breathe, before taking stock of himself, adjusting his thick leather jacket and turning once more to this pathetic heap at his feet...

“Frankly, we’re losing patience with all of you… including that impudent little Kitty…”

The man stared back with steely determination

Moving his hand effortlessly, King edged the knife sideways, scraping its blade against his victims ribs, the sickening noise dulled out only by the screams of agony.

Sighing heavily, he continued “… I will not ask you again, old friend… You will talk, you will tell me w-“

A hand swiftly crossing his face interrupted him abruptly. A hand that had broken free of its binding, impervious to the additional torture it would reap by the disrespect it so longed to show its accosted.

"Goddammit you, you son of a b*tch…” snapped King angrily, before calming slightly; “You want to do things the hard way? That’s how you want it? Then fine…”

Jumping to his feet, he stomped across to a nearby table and hoisted open its rough wooden draw, grabbing a variety of items before returning to the broken body.

Without a word, he grabbed the mans left hand, held it to the floorboards and proceeded to drive a 5 inch nail through the palm with anger, nodding towards Euphraxia to repeat the process on his right hand.

Laughing at his victims plea’s for mercy, he snapped back viciously “You have brought this all on yourself friend, you caused this, you asked for this and by God do you deserve this! You think this is pain?! You think this is agony?!”

With that, he swung the hammer down onto the mans left thumb swiftly, before raising it again and smashing each and every one of his fingers with a sick look of intense gratification in his eyes.

“Now that I have your attention, you are going to talk.. you are going to tell me everything…

As he spoke, Euphraxia passed him a bottle of clear liquid, its label almost illegible...

“…everything about the council… “

... staring down at his bloodied and severed right foot, he flipped off the cap and emptied the contents all over the stump…

“…everything you know about the Swordfish…”

..The man squealed in sheer pain as the hydrochloric acid burnt at his wounds, searing through his body…

“…and the reason why you left me for dead all that time ago...You will speak and you will speak now… Do I make myself clear… Phunky?”

That's not the point KingCAW.. You are willing to roleplay, you are part of their elitist society now.. That's why they are friendly to you.

I'll be 100% honest here, I know nothing whatsoever when it comes to this elitist thing... I know that I for one am no different, I still rag about with my faction as usual, I still sort out parties and hang around with completely non-RP people, for me, this is just another element of the game that I take part in when either I choose to, or when the opportunity is there.

I can't say what the situation was like on Linenoise because I wasn't there, and won't even attempt to catagorically state that one side of the elitist arguement is right or wrong. But, in my own experience of these people, I have been pleasantly suprised, for whatever reasons that may be.

And, just so you know, I was one of the two people from Linenoise who sat at the truce meeting with you and the rest of the Meros and Machines on Output before the merge.. And I'm also the one that ended the truce after the merge

Ah so it was you! Actually I thought it was us who broke the truce? I know we took the first steps to end the one we had with Digital Reality... although at the time that may have been all that was left of the original truce... alls fair in love and war i suppose...

And the 'closest thing to the One' thing made me laugh... cmon, i'll put money on it that you laughed while typing it too...

And on the original point of the thread. I personally don't see it as a cry for attention or glory for the people involved. If it was, then it certainly hasn't worked with me, all its done is made me aware that there is now a council in the world my character lives in.

And again, just to reiterate my thoughts on having an actual cross-interest council, I do think that would be a very good idea and very much needed, something that brings people from all aspects of the community etc together... but I think its one of those things that will never happen, which is a big shame. However I think at the start of this thread, it was misconstrued that the intention of the 'round-table' was to be an actual cross-interest, serverwide council, which it isn't.

And its strange how people focuses change... I went from being pure all-out grindhog, to pvper, to socialite, to RPer... so I think i've sampled each side... except from the cybering with fat 42yr old men pretending to be women... *shudders*

I think its important that we don't try and define our respective "groups" to be the superior one. A lot of die-hard pvpers make a bad name for the more decent ones by being ridiculously OTT and beleiving that ability and success in this game relies solely on pvp. However, I am sure that over the history of linenoise RPing, the same has happened in reverse.

Ah... nevermind.... *goes back to nap*

People at really low-levels standing around slagging SOE or the game off and saying how bad everything is... fair enough everyone is entitled to their opinion, but merely the fact that they haven't given the game a chance or played it for long enough to support their opinions

King slouched forwards on a hard, stiff stool – raising his left hand slowly to bring a half-smoked cigar to his lips, closing his eyes as he took a long puff, the smoke tumbling out of his half-cocked mouth as the glowing tips flared brighter, illuminating the trouble expression on his face.

He rubbed his eyes wearily – how did it get like this? Since declaring his true allegiances he had been plagued by treacherous worms crawling out of the woodwork, eager to stake their claim against the Masked, to have their pound of flesh, he let out a heavy sigh, before snapping back to focus and rising stiffly, turning his gaze towards the man known as Phunkyfella.

“Do you think I’m enjoying this Phunky?”

The crumpled Zionite refused to answer, instead glaring with a furious anger that offset his battered state.

King shook his head, before being distracted by a slender figure moving slowly into view. Euphraxia… a true diamond of a woman… it was her who had arranged for his rescue in the Real, who had secured the sanction of two new ships. She was a good girl, reliable, loyal and more importantly, obedient.

“King…” she purred, “What are we going to do with him?”

King had no idea. They had once been close friends, he and Phunky, back in the bosom of Zion. They had remained on sociable terms even after what many saw as the ultimate betrayal of exilation into the arms of the Merovingian. So why did he do it?

That was the question which troubled him most. Why, before King became Masked, did Phunky attack him and leave him for dead that fateful day in Chelsea? It was that attack that led him into desperation, that led him to Espi, that led him to the Masked Agenda.

And now? Now, Phunky sat aboard the Zion Roundtable, rubbed shoulders with the very people who wanted King and his new family dead… he gritted his teeth firmly before leaning over Phunky with renewed menace…

“I had forgotten how well I know you Phunky… I know you’re a stubborn b*stard… I’ve had you here a week, and still you won’t talk?”

Phunky smiled back, defiantly, his face caked in dried blood

“Now I know you won’t roll over on your new-found friends Phunky… this unrepentant sense of loyalty that you have forced yourself into accepting clouds your better judgment and blinds you from the fact that they would drop you in it within a heartbeat… but I still want to know…”

King arched further forward still, resting his hand against the cold hard wall supporting Phunky’s weakened frame…

“I want to know why you did it Phunky? This wasn’t an ordinary hit on a run of the mill exile – this was one friend betraying another… tell me why you did it! Who put you up to it?!”

Phunky opened his mouth, tilting his head with the slightest motion, he mustered up the will to speak – his voice cracking through the barren dryness of a throat which had not seen a drop of water in almost five days. He spoke slowly and deliberately…

“King… go to hell…”

His temper ignited, he snapped… grabbing a bloodied knife from the table, his eyes widened as he bellowed in sheer rage…

“Hell?! I’ll give you Hell you son of a – “

“King… please don’t…” cowered Euphraxia, standing shaking behind him. King swung around, turning the tip of the blade towards his cohort with a menacing glare, absorbing the look of fear in her eyes with a smile, before adjusting his mask and refocusing his attentions on Phunky…

“Yknow old friend, she’s right…” casting his eyes across the blood-soaked body of the fallen Zionist – his severed foot, punctured hands, deep twisting knife wounds dotted around his torso;

“…we could continue this dance for weeks, but there is more than one way to skin a cat. You precious Roundtable don’t have long left. As for the Swordfish? Zion’s rogue hero’s? They too will meet a grave end… but you and I? Your score remains unsettled. Rest assured we will have a conclusion to this, mark my words… but for now…”

As King turned the blade sideways, resting its tip on the side of Phunky’s exposed throat, the door to the abandoned warehouse flung open, a young man bursting through, dripping wet from head to toe and about to collapse through sheer exhaustion…

“Daakus whats wrong” asked a concerned Euphraxia…

Turning his eyes from her concerns, Daakus headed cautiously over to King, who’s eyes had not been averted from his target throughout the commotion.

“Sir, I think you need to hear this…”

King flinched as he turned with a belligerent expression towards his sub-ordinate, who leaned in slightly and began to speak into his ear… he jumped back as King rested his hand on his shoulder…

“Sir… you know I don’t…” Daakus mumbled, before finding Kings hand grasped on his shoulder once more, pulling him inwards

“Continue…” barked King… his eyes widening as Daakus spoke to him, shifting with growing concern towards the man he had been about to decapitate…

Suddenly the knife fell from Kings grip… his face turned ashen and the fury which had so illuminated his eyes was substituted with sheer dread… he stared for what seemed an eternity at Phunkyfella, shallow, panicked breaths as he struggled to come to terms with what he had just heard…

Without shifting his gaze, he spoke once more – this time the anger and arrogance completely diluted by a nervous and hesitant tone…

“Euph, disable the signal scramblers… we need to leave…”

“But King…”

“EUPHRAXIA! DO IT NOW FOR GODS SAKE!”

Immediately she tapped in a series of combinations on a heavy old keypad, before being grabbed by the sleeve of her jacket by an already fleeting King and rushed from the room...

Turning to close the door, King looked in once more, soaking in the immensity of this news he had received as he observed Phunkyfella one last time, before slamming the door shut and cloaking the room with darkness.

1.1: The Birth Of A King (Chapter One)

“Morris….”

“MORRIS!!”

“Urgh…. Wha?... Huh?!”

“You fell asleep again Morris, what sort of an example are you setting to your staff if you just doze off at your desk, you’re lucky no customers asked to see you!”

The door slammed shut as Mr.Bigsley, the manager of Newcastle Bank who’s ego was only outweighed by his rotund frame, shuffled his way down the hall from his new deputy manager’s office.

“…Another day of drudgery” sighed the defeated young man from behind his desk, letting out a stifled yawn as he carefully adjusted his name-plate; Michael Morris; Deputy Branch Manager.

He never used to sleep so much, in fact, he was lucky to get his recommended 8-hours a night, but recently something changed, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

He had been late 3 times already this week, not a good start to what he thought was going to be a job that would fill him with excitement. Surely meeting all those different people on a daily basis, helping them solve financial problems and providing products to meet their needs would be enough to keep him occupied. But yet, he yearned for more, he reached for the unreachable.

Two weeks previously, his psychiatrist told him he was medically and psychologically unsound – that this overwhelming sense that the world was not right, that people were not as they seemed was simply morbid paranoia, and that his references to his muscles feeling as though they would explode at a moments noticed was nothing but intense hypochondria… however he knew differently… he felt it…. He believed.

Hesitantly rising from his desk, he made the conscious decision to wander on to the branch floor, maybe mingling with the crowd would raise his spirits, and the call to action of being the face of this “esteemed financial institute” would shock him into the land of the awakened.

As soon as he swung the door back, he spotted old Ms.Woodman, a frail but insanely rich old spinster, no doubt coming to make her latest transfer to whichever charity had given out the prettiest ribbons that week. There, as usual, were the “two stooges”, Harold and Jeffery, it suddenly dawned upon him that he hadn’t taken the time to learn their last names – he made a mental note to check with one of the clerks.

Then, he spotted it. It must’ve occurred over the briefest of moments, but it definitely happened, no doubt about it…

A man dressed head to toe in white, hair tied back into a tight ponytail with some sort of contraption fixed around his head appeared to be juggling electricity… did that make sense?! Was that even possible?! The man motioned twice, and a bolt of energy shot down through a second individual, who quickly jumped out of sight…

By the time he scurried past the queue at the checking counter, both men were gone without a… No, it couldn’t be… could it?!

Eyes transfixed on the sky, he swore he saw the man in white appear to be… flying?!

Quickly he ran down the street, eagerly trying to gauge exactly where this man would land, if he would land at all, if it was even the same man, or just a rather large bird.

‘This is insane’ he thought to himself; ‘Doc’ was right, I need to be put in a padded cell!'

Faster and faster he ran, the sun gleaming in his eyes, blurring out what had now became a small white dot….

Onwards, faster and faster… faster…. Faster….

“Oh Sh*t…”

He barely registers as these words leave his mouth, for within an instant, the world turns dark, all he feels is his head hit the pavement with a sickening thud, and the warmth of his own blood trickling down his face.

Mere seconds seem to pass… the world is light again, an unfamiliar and hardened voice croaks…

“Welcome back Mr.Morris….”

1.2 The Birth Of A King (Chapter Two)

“Where am I?”

“Just relax, everything will come to you soon”

“My eyes, they sting like crazy”

“Yes, that’s normal after what you’ve been through – just try to relax”

He sees a man dressed in shabby old clothing that he assumed must’ve been bought from a charity shop, or else handed down through decades of family lineage, barely staying in place through the weary and worn threads which were aching to end their own misery and separate once and for all.

A warm sensation washes over him, as he feels himself hoisted upright by some unseen force. He has the sudden urge to feel the back of his head. Hmm, that wasn’t there before…

“What’s going on?! Who are you people?!”

“Try to stay calm Mr.Morris, my name is Nurse Wyoming, you’ve had a nasty accident, lucky this man found you when he did, another few minutes and we may have lost you for good!”

The room suddenly came back into view; a bright, white room which looked as though it had been endlessly sterilised with bleach, and smelt like it too.

Looking over to his bedside, he tried to focus on the shabbily dressed man. It took him a while, but he recognised him from the bank.

“Harold?”

“Yes sir, its me, I saw you falling over, thought I’d better come make sure you were OK, can’t have that bank falling into ruin now can we?”

Just what he needed, the blood on the back of his head had barely dried, and already he was filled with guilt about rushing out of work like that. No doubt Mr.Bigsley would have his contract in the shredder by now.

“OK Mr.Morris, just try to get some sleep, I’ll be back in an hour or so to check on you. Lunch service is at 2pm so I’ll make sure you’re woken before then. Its Fish and Chips today!”

His mind suddenly flashed back to the grubby tuna fish sandwiches he had hurriedly made on his way out of the door this morning. At very worst, at least he was getting a slightly improved lunch out of this whole mess.

Within moments of Nurse Wyoming leaving the room, Harold darted upright. His demeanour was no longer kind and frail; it was stern and serious.

“What was it that made you run Mr.Morris?”

“Huh?”

“You need to tell me everything; every last detail”

“Harold… if I told you, you’d think I was crazy, and besides…”

“Mr.Morris…” Harold rudely interrupted, his voice now sounding more authorative than even that of Mr.Bigsley “…my patience is running out, now tell me what you saw”

“Erm, I don’t know who you think you’re talking to old man, but what the hell does any of this have to do with you! Now thank you for finding me, thank you for making sure you got me here ok, but for now, I’d like you to leave”

The old man paused as though considering his options, he looked sideways, as though distracted by something, and then hastily gathered his coat, opened the door and turned back one last time with his parting comment;

“My employers will be in touch soon. I envisage you will be a lot more co-operative with them, whether you like it or not.”

Barely a moment after the old man scurried out of sight, the ward room window burst open, a small whisp of a man appeared, although on first impressions he looked no older than 18.

“Who the hell are you?!?! Goddammit can’t I can any peace around here?!”

“Shhh, please, we don’t want to raise any alarm… my name is NoShow”

“What the hell kind of name is that?”

“That’s not important, I have orders to rescue you and take you somewhere safe, you would not be able to comprehend the amount of danger you are in.”

“Danger? Rescue? Orders?! Orders from who?!”

“Well…. You’re about to find out…”

1.3: The Birth Of A King (Chapter Three)

"You can't expect me to go with you?!"

"Please, we must hurry, you have no idea of what dangers lie if you stay here..."

"But, i'm plugged into all of these machines!"

The wormly figure who had now completely made his way into the hospital room and was hurridly unfastening the multiple wires and tubes from the body of Michael Morris simply gave a slight chuckle, and then quickly readjusted himself, as though that display of humour had betrayed his attempt to maintain a cool and authorative demeanor.

The next words to leave his mouth chilled the scared young man lying in the hospital bed;

"If you stay here, you will be dead within the next 5 minutes - of that I guarantee"

"I must be crazy" he thought to himself, as he weakly attempted to hoist himself from the bed... but then again, today had been a day for doing crazy things; afterall, thats why he was here, in hospital.... maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

Something told him otherwise. He sensed that the answers he was looking for would be found by doing exactly what this strange young boy was telling him to. Mustering all of his strength, he made it to his feet, and hesistantly made his way to the opened window.

It took all the strength left in his body to pull himself up and out onto the ledge, but he managed it. The young man who had just pursuaded him to leave the very place that was supposed to be keeping safe and comfortable was now rushing down the street. He tried to run, to keep up... the effort was agonising, the pain unbearable, but this force kept driving him on, leading him to the truth... the truth about what? 'If only Doc could see me now...' he muttered, before refocusing his energy on merely staying on his feet and in pursuit of his apparant 'rescuer'.

One block... two blocks.... past a bus station... "Where are you taking me?"; that question fell on deaf ears.... Five blocks more, he starts to feel faint... every ounce of energy has been sapped from his aching body... A swift turn down an alley, cutting through two abandoned warehouse, down 7 flights of stairs, and finally, he was there... he had found his detination, his truth, his answers, his... stack of broken down old chairs?!

"Where are we? Why did you bring me here"

"Please;" the previously stern voice broke kindly "...help me lay out these chairs... I'm going to make a quick phone call... don't be scared... everything will be clear soon, I promise"

No sooner had this "NoShow" kid turned his back, a flash of light appeared. He felt a warm sensation rush through his body and make its way swiftly to his feet. He tried to move but his legs wouldn't follow through, he was completely rooted to the spot.

He turned to look at NoShow, hoping to find an explanation, but he too was frozen - a blank expression on his face bar a stunned look in his eye.

"Don't worry about him..." purred a raspy voice from within the shadows; "He is completely numb to the world. Now, I have only 30 seconds, so i'll make this brief"

The shadowy figure stepped out to reveal a slender woman dressed head to toe in red leather. Although her frame and figure appeared to be youthful and excuberant, her poise and manner depicted that of a hardened veteran to whatever it was she was about to enact.

"Do you know why he has come for you?"

"..." Too dismayed to speak and half hoping this was all a dream, he remained completely silent but for his increasingly rapid breathing.

"He has brought you here to recruit you. Recruit you to a war that you ought take no part in, in a world that will be restricted from you in every way possible should you choose to follow his blindly. He has came to free you from bondage, and cast you into slavery"

"Erm..... wha?!"

"My words will become clear soon enough. I cannot open this particular door for you, his... ahem... 'people' are without a doubt the place to go for carrying out that particular task... however it is down to you to follow your own path into the welcoming arms of the noble cause, the cause... of the Frenchman..."

"The french? Who? I don't know any french people! I can only speak about 3 words... yeah I went there on a school trip back in..."

"Don't worry yourself too much just yet... here, take this"

The woman reached out with a gloved hand, and gave him what appeared to be a business card. He glanced at it for a split second.

A golden crest, a crown... "Code of the Awakened Watchmen"... it enscription burned itself into his mind... wait... it was actually burning!

"Jesus f*cking Christ what the hell are you trying to do?!?!"

"When you are truely awake from this dreamworld, remember us well. We will be watching you, as it is our purpose to do so... we will be waiting for you to come to us... we see great things from you, should you choose the wisest path"

He looked down at his hand. Where once there was a delicate business card, there was now emptiness. Those two things still bore deeper and deeper into his mind. The ensignia, a crown, Code of the Awakened Watchmen... what did it all mean... what did it...

He stumbled forward, the force previously inhibiting his movement now released. NoShow turned around

"You OK?"

"You didn't see... erm, yeah, I just tripped, kinda groggy from the pain meds yknow...."

"OK, wait here..."

Completely oblivious to the events of the previous 30 seconds, NoShow continued into the next room.

Within minutes, Michael Morris, newly appointed manager of Newcastle Bank was sitting upright on what appeared to be a badly maintained dentists chair.

"Just relax, this will be over before you know it..."

With that, a chilling sensation filled his lungs, his mouth, his eyes, all felt as though they had been injected with liquid nitrogen, however the sensation wasn't unpleasant... he felt.... liberated....

'Man, what drugs are these and where the hell do I get them!' he thought to himself, just as the feelings turned to panic... he couldn't breathe... what he thought was a feeling of his lungs being filled actually was his lungs being filled... his head jolts back as he lets out a silent scream... and then... the world goes black.

Nothing more.

Not a single recollection of moment of awareness until he was in that room. The chair seemed similar to the one he was previously sitting in, but the room, it seemed different. It sounded... mechanical? Were we by a railway track? An industrial factory?

Then came the voice. The self same voice that had croaked through the hospital window.

"Welcome to the Real World"

That phrase bellowed around the room, until broken by the same voice mumbling to himself "Man, i've always wanted to say that!"

Regaining compusure, NoShow spoke once more...

"What is your name my friend"

The woman... the card... the crest... the crown... the code of the awakened watchmen....His throat seared, his vocal chords strained as though they were the age-old strings of a violin being played for the first time... without thinking, without any control, he answered;

"My name...."

"My name.... is KingCAW"

2.1: Nobility (Chapter One)

"NoShow the captain is gunna wring your neck this time..."

"What do you mean, 'this time' - I never get to free anyone, its about time he realised me potential. Anyway... I can just say he became self-aware... and i'm sure you won't rat me out, now will you Ethros?"

"Shhh... I think he's waking up again"

Indeed the sound of bickering had reignited his senses, the room swung into full view, NoShow and Ethros peered at him hesistantly.

"King... are you awake?"

"Umh... urgh, yeah... you guys got any coffee?"

"Coffee?!... You've gotta be kidding right?! Don't you know where you are?! Don't you remember?!"

The hospital, the boy, the warehouse, the woman, the crest, the chair...

KingCAW suddenly jolted upright as though struck by lightening

"Get me the hell out of here! Whoever you people are, whatever you people want, just take me home!"

"You are home boy" croaked a husky, older voice of a man making his way up the dock stairs. He slowly made his way across the foot, his heavy beaten boots echoing throught the chamber with every step. He cracked his neck, took a slow glance sideways, and without warning, slapped NoShow around the back of the head...

"And YOU goddammit.... what have I told you?! ALWAYS speak to me before you release someone!!! Now get your *CENSORED* down to the cargo deck, theres some boxes need shifting......NOW DAMMIT!!!!"

He turned back with a slighty chuckle, refocusing his attentions on the freshly awakened recruit.

"So, whats your name boy?"

"Its KingCAW sir..." interupted Ethros, who was idley pushing buttons and twisting knobs on a defunct workstation, making only the slightest of attempts to hide his obvious eavesdropping.

"Interesting name... so tell me kid, what do you know about what has happened to you..."

"He doesn't appear to remember anything sir..."

"THANK YOU ETHROS.... I think the boy can speak for himself.... you've got a tongue in that mouth of your dontcha kid? Well, speak for Christs sake!"

King winced at the harsh tone in this mans voice, the look in his eyes gave nothing away, it was clear that this man was pure steel and would not allow him to remain silent a moment longer. He tried to choose his words carefully

"Well... sir.... I don't know much, and I don't care to know. Its obvious you have went to a lot of effort for me, but I never asked for this, I never wanted this.... I want you to take me home.... people will be looking for me, you can't hold me hear against my will..."

Sensing that the new recruit was starting to panic, the hardened man broke his demeanor, and placed a reassuring hand on his charges forhead.

"Get some rest kid, we've got a long way to go now, there aint no turning back..."

Almost instantaneuosly the adrenaline that had previously began to build up in his veins subsided, and the need to sleep crept back over him.

As he began to drift off, he caught wind of himself for a second, and spoke.

"You never told me where we are and what your name is..."

The man seemed thrown by the calmness in the previously agitated boys voice.

"Well, this is the HvCft Nobility, and i'm its Captain. My name..... is Xeroth."

Message Edited by kingcaw on 09-15-2005 11:36 AM