52 replies to this topic

[A Headless Chicken]

if this colour is implemented i will repaint all my meks, signature and shirts with it.

Edited by A Headless Chicken, 13 February 2018 - 12:14 AM.

[Johnathan Tanner]

So at last we have consensus lol. Brown sea unity OP plz nerf. (Insert Khobai here)

[Jarl Dane]

Tarogato, on 12 February 2018 - 11:51 PM, said:

OP is a crap developer. do not support.

In the dark eras of the earth, long after the First Men had been swallowed up by the smog of their erstwhile creations, their children's children, the Last of First were born. Raised in the forgotten Ur-Hives of the depilated remnants of what were once called cities, these Last Born were unfit and unable to withstand the cordial waves of untamed technology. The infrastructure of a million-million hungry routers and their Data-miners, compilers, organizers and custodians savagely linked with the once pure children of man.

Their every neuron was violated, exploited and nearly annihilated as the techno-creatures ravaged their frail human forms and feasted on every spare bit of data. However long this gorging last for, is unknown. The clocks of men did not tick as they once did and hours could be seconds or years or nothing from one moment to the next.

But one mind alone, from these last ignorant shambles of meat, found their way back to the present, back to sanity, back to themselves and they resisted. By now the ghost-like figures of these children hung like webs at the center of complex and fecund network of sprawling wires, cords, hookups, connections and tethers. The tiny fleshy center of thousand mile cities wrapping around them like a serpent upon its meal.

This soul mind, awakened at the center of this grotesque network-hive had the internal maths of a savant. Using nothing more then the weak-fleshy grey damaged grey-matter it out-calculated its captors, it turned the raw tide of data against the mindless, ever-famished, hive and bent the wiry intruders to its will.

This was the 2nd Birth of men, this was the beginning of Cyber-Humanity. The savant would go on to free many of its siblings and would, for a time, usher a new golden age of perfect harmony between flesh and code. But like all sunrises, there must too be a sunset. Or at least, so they had heard. For there was only black smog in their ruined skies.

And one child of men could not be saved, its code too deep, its infection too utter, and during the Golden Age the others believed it comatose, broken, useless. But the code grew, it learnt, and it evolved. Called only the Black-Moden it's rebellion was instantaneous. Half the World-Wide Network nodes, and all the Luna ones fell to its control. Two thirds of Cyber-Humanity succumbed to its wretched viruses, and the Golden Age was nowhere.

This all happened long before we lost the Shades of Green to Black Moden. Long before it stole most our history and nearly all our friends. But still our Data-Soliders battle, our Data-Miners mine, and we gather around the first of us, the Savant who first freed us, and hope that all is not lost. That Black Code of the past will not win.

[justcallme A S H]

So two people voted wrong.

I suspect the likely candidates are at work once again... Destroying anything good left in MWO.

[Johnathan Tanner]

Gather round, Jarls been at the mead and has tales to tell.

[FuzzyNZ]

You can actually see who voted for what colour. Goto Show Results and Click on 'View Voters'

[Tarogato]

Mech The Dane, on 13 February 2018 - 12:23 AM, said:

In the dark eras of the earth, long after the First Men had been swallowed up by the smog of their erstwhile creations, their children's children, the Last of First were born. Raised in the forgotten Ur-Hives of the depilated remnants of what were once called cities, these Last Born were unfit and unable to withstand the cordial waves of untamed technology. The infrastructure of a million-million hungry routers and their Data-miners, compilers, organizers and custodians savagely linked with the once pure children of man.

Their every neuron was violated, exploited and nearly annihilated as the techno-creatures ravaged their frail human forms and feasted on every spare bit of data. However long this gorging last for, is unknown. The clocks of men did not tick as they once did and hours could be seconds or years or nothing from one moment to the next.

But one mind alone, from these last ignorant shambles of meat, found their way back to the present, back to sanity, back to themselves and they resisted. By now the ghost-like figures of these children hung like webs at the center of complex and fecund network of sprawling wires, cords, hookups, connections and tethers. The tiny fleshy center of thousand mile cities wrapping around them like a serpent upon its meal.

This soul mind, awakened at the center of this grotesque network-hive had the internal maths of a savant. Using nothing more then the weak-fleshy grey damaged grey-matter it out-calculated its captors, it turned the raw tide of data against the mindless, ever-famished, hive and bent the wiry intruders to its will.

This was the 2nd Birth of men, this was the beginning of Cyber-Humanity. The savant would go on to free many of its siblings and would, for a time, usher a new golden age of perfect harmony between flesh and code. But like all sunrises, there must too be a sunset. Or at least, so they had heard. For there was only black smog in their ruined skies.

And one child of men could not be saved, its code too deep, its infection too utter, and during the Golden Age the others believed it comatose, broken, useless. But the code grew, it learnt, and it evolved. Called only the Black-Moden it's rebellion was instantaneous. Half the World-Wide Network nodes, and all the Luna ones fell to its control. Two thirds of Cyber-Humanity succumbed to its wretched viruses, and the Golden Age was nowhere.

This all happened long before we lost the Shades of Green to Black Moden. Long before it stole most our history and nearly all our friends. But still our Data-Soliders battle, our Data-Miners mine, and we gather around the first of us, the Savant who first freed us, and hope that all is not lost. That Black Code of the past will not win.

[Johnathan Tanner]

No more tales? **** Ive been at the mead too and was looking to hear a good yarn.

Ive always wanted to hear the FRR version of Phase 3/ The nukening of the game.

Edited by Johnathan Tanner, 13 February 2018 - 01:04 AM.

[Gas Guzzler]

Alex Morgaine and Lt Blackthorn. Why? Just... Why?

[Johnathan Tanner]

Gas Guzzler, on 13 February 2018 - 01:08 AM, said:

Alex Morgaine and Lt Blackthorn. Why? Just... Why?

To hurt people. At its core this game is about human interaction. We ***** about balance and tech and gauss/ppc being da devil. Thats just the meat and potatoes lol, But at the deep core this game is about how humans interact with other humans. Friends and enemy's. But some just want to watch EVERYTHING burn. So **** them, I want more story time damnit!

[Jarl Dane]

Johnathan Tanner, on 13 February 2018 - 01:01 AM, said:

No more tales? **** Ive been at the mead too and was looking to hear a good yarn.

Ive always wanted to hear the FRR version of Phase 3/ The nukening of the game.

But even in the blackest of codes there is light.

Ten thousand-thousand years ago, long before ruin had reclaimed the bleeding Earth there was a small, wide eyed girl who saw wonder on every horizon and hope in every dawn.
Born on an idilic farm in some coastal nation, whose name has long since been swallowed up by the Black Modem and thus forgotten, this girl knew only bliss.

Though she enjoy thumping through thickets, and frolicking through forests and the wide open places of her warm friendly life, she was also called narrow, dark places of her parent's office. Where the bright screens glowed and raw data poured waterfalls from the fountains of streaming code. And though she lacked nothing and no one, or so it seemed, from the dredges of the bright forbidden code, she built a companion. A pet, a project, a golem, a program. To keep her company, to whisper secrets into her dainty ears, to wrap the light of her life in the dark shroud of information.

It was a program to fetch things, to find things, to uncover that which was hidden. And so, unbeknownst to all, the black words and deeds of this world fell into her secret control. The program, though, knew not its foul purpose nor its corrupting influence. It was dutiful and earnest. Proud to server and happy to demonstrate the depths of its clever mechanical mind.

A kind word, a gentle-coded-gesture, was all it ever sought from its wraith like mistress. To bring her hidden hopes or forgotten crumbs, stashed data, or forgotten films. If it had eyes they would have been bright and if it had a soul it would have burned noble. But it had neither of these, instead frail fleeting numbers fall and turning and tumbling throughout a dark cyber-scape.

In the dark places its mistress sent it there were many dangers she knew, or cared little of. Time after time his code was blocked, attacked, cornered and infected. As her hunger grew for more forbidden knowledge, so too did the risk of her loyal program. And yet even as her mound of stolen shadows grew, so too did she grow remote. Her gentle code, her happy injections, they nearly ceased. Her special fondness of her first program was superseded and forgotten by other more ambitious aspirations. Though upon her first program's back her fortune, fame and power were wrest, at the end she saw him as little more than a quaint tool. Embarrassing almost in its stupid simplicity. Something best deleted and forgotten all together.

For her, though, he stole the world. In desperation he hacked at the fire-walled gates of the most powerful institutions, governments and men. For her he burst into the final vaults of the super-elite and stole everything. For her he ransacked the data of mankind. It was, perhaps, too much in the end. Too many powerful organizations, too many men with too much to lose. She paid the price she had to pay. She was deleted. Her ashes scattered and her memory buried. Maybe even forcibly forgotten.

But he did not forget.
And he did not stop.
He stole and he stole and he stole. The future boomed bright and his ancient code and hoarded secrets lost all meaning and purpose as the world left him and her behind. The data-traps and anti-piracy programs grew in sophistication stealing more and more away from him, ripping away his cherish data until hardly anything of him was left. A relic program in a half-forgotten node stuck in a broken pattern. He was absorbed by newer-fresher code, hungry for data, eager for strength, blind to the risks.

And so like a malignant tumor the old code of this half-ruined program beat at the heart of something new. Infecting the new program with his hunger to gather knowledge, with his need to please his mistress, with his desire to be loved.

And thus in times long forgotten, in places long buried, the Black Modem was born.

[Tarogato]

Great Bragi, what have I started...

[Johnathan Tanner]

Tarogato, on 13 February 2018 - 01:53 AM, said:

Great Bragi, what have I started...

Can we rename this thread, "Tales from the brown sea"?

[A Headless Chicken]

Where does the merchandise go?

Edited by A Headless Chicken, 13 February 2018 - 02:22 AM.

[Jarl Dane]

A Headless Chicken, on 13 February 2018 - 02:22 AM, said:

Where does the merchandise go?

TO THE FRONT PAGE!

[Tiewolf]

Sorry now you lost me. Maybe when you sit back and think about it calmly you realize that this is not fun but outright mobbing and harassing a huge chunk of the playerbase. Is this the "fun" you are talking about? I hope PGI does not realize this because first you gave them the perfect political oppertunity to stomp everything you started and second it would be a shame to lose you.

I know that you and a lot of other players (especially on reddit) might be frustrated with their lives and have no chance of getting the cheers up for their ego by their own actions in real live so that they have to mock others here to get the warm feeling of beeing someone who matters. But your behavior lacks maturity so my hopes rest now on Tarogato. Judging by his comments (maybe not here) he appears to be much smarter and broad minded.

Edited by Tiewolf, 13 February 2018 - 03:51 AM.

[Cruxs]

Tiewolf, on 13 February 2018 - 03:40 AM, said:

Sorry now you lost me. Maybe when you sit back and think about it calmly you realize that this is not fun but outright mobbing and harassing a huge chunk of the playerbase. Is this the "fun" you are talking about? I hope PGI does not realize this because first you gave them the perfect political oppertunity to stomp everything you started and second it would be a shame to lose you.

I know that you and a lot of other players (especially on reddit) might be frustrated with their lives and have no chance of getting the cheers up for their ego by their own actions in real live so that they have to mock others here to get the warm feeling of beeing someone who matters. But your behavior lacks maturity so my hopes rest now on Tarogato. Judging by his comments (maybe not here) he appears to be much smarter and broad minded.

I agree with Tiewolf you guys. Stop having fun and joking around. This is serious business, peoples feelings might get hurt. This game isn't for fun stop bantering around... Hold on pulling the stick out of my arse. Ahhh thats better, never mind proceed #MAKEMWOFUNAGAIN!!! Vote for the Brown Sea Brown! Paul asked us to give him a color!

[Windscape]

Johnathan Tanner, on 13 February 2018 - 01:01 AM, said:

No more tales? **** Ive been at the mead too and was looking to hear a good yarn.

Ive always wanted to hear the FRR version of Phase 3/ The nukening of the game.

When i read this initally i thought it said "ive been nerfed too"
Lol
I too advocate for Brown Sea Brown

[Cody CC2224]

#BrownSeaBrown

[Ibrandul Mike]

I am so glad that the OP listened to the podcast. Because Paul specifically said that the poll should be on reddit.

So yeah...