I think that I need to release a tee shirt for the fans of this new improvement.

You haven't been a member for twenty years.  And you didn't die.

Cheese. Melodramatic much? 

To celebrate a cool new feature of the Inn (the ability to see previous posts when you reply to a thread), and to kick off a little light posting, I am starting a simple new posting game - tell us about you!

Simply copy/paste the following section into your post, replacing all of the answers with your own.  The first post will contain my info, obviously.


What is your age? 42
What is your gender? Male
Where you are from? Alabama, USA
What is your relationship status? Married 23 years
Do you have children? yes, eight.  Ages 22 years down to ten months
What sort of work do you do? I'm a Senior Systems Administrator (IT work)
What is your dream job? Self employed internet entrepreneur (live off the residual income from my websites)
What hobbies do you have outside of gaming? I brew my own beer, do a little blogging, and love to plan Disney World trips for my family (or other people's families - I'm the "Disney Guy").  I enjoy watching sports on TV, and coach little league baseball in the spring.  And I do play video games.

Bumping!  I need someone who's a glutton for punishment, and ready to be minced, melted, and incinerate for Friend Computer!

That's obviously just a little silver screen moment to keep things interesting.  It's been a long time since I've added one.

"You did WHAT?" she hissed, fury crackling like lightning in her blue eyes.

The young man on his knees before her pitched his forehead into the dirt.  He had seen that look before, and recognized the peril that resided within. 

"Mistress," he began, as the words tumbled from his mouth, "we have ramped up our efforts to find more candidates for the Ritual.  After all, to anchor..."

"Silence!" she snarled.  Her foot came up and connected with his nose with a sickening crunch, but the robed man on the ground dared no whimper.  "Do not think to educate me as to the importance of the Ritual, nor those we need to complete it!"

In silent fury, she brushed an errant patch of blonde hair back behind her ear.  "Whose idea was it to expose us to the enemy through such carelessness!"

The prone man stammered.  "It... Mistress, the idea was mine, but you know that I lack the authority to carry it out!  I asked Berevis if it might not be wise, what with the failures of late, I have always served our Lord with all my being.  I..."

"Enough," she spoke with finality.  "Berevis will be the one to feel my wrath, then.  It is true, you have always served with your entire being."

Feeling a glimmr of hope, the man on the ground sobbed thankfully.  "Thank you for your mercy, Mistress. Thank you.  I..."

The older women held up a hand, waved.  Momentarily, a young woman, no more than fifteen winters old, joined her.  The younger woman hung her head.  "Yes Mistress?" she asked quietly. 

The priestess smiled softly.  "Lyssa, Brother Danton here has given his entire being to our Lord.  Wouldn't you agree?"

You girl cocked her head, as if considering.  "Yes, Mistress.  He has."

The older woman nodded.  "And yet, he is a fool.  Here, take this," she spoke, as she pressed a short knife into the young woman's hands.  "Open his belly for me, please - but do it carefully.  Do not nick his organs or cause him to die just yet."

The sound of several giggling voices could be heard drawing near, even as the man on the ground moaned in despair.

"It is time," she continued, "for Brother Danton to truly give of his entire being.  The hunters are hungry, and they do better with frresh meat.  Living meat."

Wide eyed, the girl listened to the intructions. 

"When you are ready, allow them to feed to their fill," she spoke firmly.  "But he will not die until then, are we clear?"

A wide grin spread across the young woman's face.  "Of course, Mistress!"

She ignored the ghouls that pressed in close, except to rebuke them midly.  "There, now - wait your turn!"

The man on the ground wailed for mercy, but remarkably, did not move - even as he was turned over and the knife in the girl's smal hand began a series of excruciating shallow cuts.  His screams, now, were another manner entirely; the arose in exquisite agony as the blood welled out, and the hunters giggled and licked their lips in anticipation...

I do the tab thing, too, and it's a pain because alt+tab on;y works on windows. 

I was reading this thread today and came across Ayrn's suggestion again and thought... dude.  You are at least five years overdue in adding this feature. 

So, here ya go.

I have implemented what I hope is a SUPER useful feature.

From now on, if you reply to a topic, the fifteen most recent posts to it will show below the message form, in order of most recent to oldest. 

This should be particualrly helpful in game threads, where it is handy to be able to refer back to the posts of others, to copy/paste selections, etc. 

Enjoy!

Maybe so!

Okay, folks - the official game time has moved forward to late Saturday night (the 20th). 

Feel free to backpost meetings, social events, etc.  But I wanted the game to move ahead, and have been warning you all that this was coming! 

Stardate 2365.02.20
USS Peregrine, turbolift - 2243

The lift paused for a moment at deck two to admit a slightly short, sandy haired human ensign that Enpok could not recall having met in the past.  This one must be the new transfer; perhaps Starfleet had overcompensated for the awkward bulk of the last new graduate he was replacing?

A ghost of a smirk rested on the Rigelian's features as a result of his own internal humor, though it would be difficult to detect to those unfamiliar with the blue and green whorls tattooed across the greenish-gray skin.  A Jelna Rigelian, T'Darin's oddly colored face was ridged in addition to the tattoos, and his gray hair hung past his shoulders in beaded braids.  While lean in build, T'Darin was noticeably taller than the newcomer, standing just above six feet in height. 

The gold-garbed tactical specialist bobbed his head and offered a crisp salute to the newcomer.  "I wish you a good evening, sir.  I am Petty Officer T'Darin, and I will man the Tactical station for this shift. I presume that you are Ensign Garner?"

OOC: assuming an affirmative

Enpok bobbed his head in acknowledgement.  "I am pleased to make your acquaintance, sir.  May fortune's winds blow favorably upon your first Command shift of the Peregrine."

OOC: any response

The lift opened to the bridge, and Enpok deferred to Garner before exiting.  He made his way to the Tactical station and presented himself to the curly-haired human woman who currently occupied the spot.  "Is there anything that I should be aware of, Petty Officer Wright?" he asked evenly.

Tabitha Wright shook her head, setting the strawberry blonde curls in motion.  "No, sir.  It has been a quiet evening.  The situation is nominal."

Enpok nodded.  "Very good, then.  I relieve you, Mister Wright." 

The human woman gave way, allowing the Rigelian to slide behind the console, where he began checking the various readouts and such for himself. 

 

You're not wrong. Maybe I'm overthinking this...

I fixed the bug inthe log entry screen that made dobled character, characters who are no longer with the sim, etc, show up in the dropdown list. 

I wanted to spiffify the entire page, and I will.  but I felt like it was better to fix the true issue first, which I could do easily.

I got several nice commetns about the post itself.  However, this is the worst performing blog post Ihave ever written on any medium... I got right around sixty reads of the article, even with links on facebook and reddit. 

Make believe Star Trek doctor's note.  That should cover it! 

Just tell the Navy "no".  That's how that works, right? 

No worries, man.  We'll play around you, as needed, and keep your chair warm.

These are some cool ideas, Brom. 

I need to start reading this thread more often, and start doing some of this.

The party waves away any paltry reward that the woodsman might have to offer, but they do inquire about the undead and when they were spotted. 

"Ah can't say as ah've spotted 'em afore, meself," he explains, "though game 'as been scarce 'o late.  Woods 'ave been more quiet, if'n ya ken me meanin'.  Nary a bird for days... a week, mebbe."  He shakes his head.

"Ah been rangin' farther to find meat, was out 'untin' taday.  Left yestermorn, spent tha night in tha woods.  Were 'eadin home this afternoon, saw tha tracks coming from tha northwes'; a whole slew 'o footprints.  Ah saw a man dressed all in black, Ah did, right afore tha dead came outta tha ridge at me.  'e didn't seem none too afraid 'o them, even after 'e saw tha lot.  Mother be me witness, the bastards didn't even look at 'im, they just came fer me - and for me 'ouse and family!"

DMs note: if there are anyother specific questions, let me know, and I can edit that in here.

Later, you do what searching you can in the failing light.  Even in the thick mist, it would be difficult to miss the trail; a great many footprints in the soft dirt lead off tot he northwest, just as the woodsman said the would.  It is abundantly clear that the undead traveled in numbers through here - and it is quite possible that there are more around.

Eventually, the light fades too much for further exploration, and you return to the cabin.  The woodsman and his boys are busy hauling the deal from the cabin, with the boys showing remarkable work ethic despite the grisliness of the task and the tenderness of their ages.  The wife, who previously accepted healing aid without comment, does not lift a finger to help.  She sits, silently, in a chair, staring towards a wall - but very clearly, staring into space. 

A bonfire is made of the corpses, just to be sure that they do not reanimate again.  The night passes without incident. 

It's great fun, Roger.   The rocket kit we used has everything but the consumable stuff (engines and wadding), costs less than $20 USD. 

The drone Noah is flying is very reasonable for what it is; about $50 orr so on Amazon. 

Man, I am so sorry to hear that.  Nobody will peep over a day or two, I wouldn't think.

It was a great time, no doubt.  I expect that we will be repeating it a few times.

As some of you know, I do some blogging about... dad and family stuff.  I might share a recipe or a project; in this entry, I just share a fun day with the boys.  Check it out (and if you like, you can subscribe to the blog, follow the facebook page etc): Rockets and Drones, oh My!

**checks party roster for a ranger**

Nope.

**checkes party roster for tracking proficiency**

Nada.

Heh... "not to be callous"... after making an INSANELY callous comment. 

I would like a post for Aranwen, too...

Okay, everyone has posted in the staff neeting.  Giddy, feel free to backpost Nyle's answers to the various crap that Drake threw around. 

Duncan, Eol - you guys look like you are going to have a social/driking RP to post, no?

Unless someone has an item that is of pressing need, I'm about to jump things forward in time - to Saturday night, to be precise.  Feel free to backpost as necessary.

"Hey, Jackobot, how long is this supposed to take? Does Team Leader need to fill out any of those forms?" Steam asks,

"BEE-DEE-BEE-DEE-BEEP, superior troubleshooter," Jackie intones, "I cannot accurately predict how much time will be required for the superior staff of the PLC to process the requests of the other superior humans, nor am I privvy to information about their requests or the complexity thereof."

It pauses, as if caluclating.  "BEE-DEE-BEE-DEE-BEEP.  By my calculations, it will take... as long as it takes."

Can robots be sarcastic?  If so, Jackie certainly carries that in its tone.

"BEE-DEE-BEE-DEE-BEEP.  I apologize, oh outstanding one, but as I am not personally assigned to the PLC, I have not been programmed with the requirements of which forms will be ncessary for the esteemed Team Leader to complete.  At your service."

The waiting is excruciating.  It would appear that even trivial requests are met with a variety of form requests - some of which are available at the long table, though it does not seem to be uncommon to have a clone sent to come other location in search of either a form or the correct authorization to be placed on one.

As sentiment grows for a way to bypass the line, an Orange clone seven or eight spaces ahead of you seems to have the same idea.  "Here, now!" he states, "I outrank the lot of you, and am on important business for Friend Computer.  All of you Infareds and Reds, out of my way!"

As he begins to push past, one of the laser cannons hums loudly, points, and burns a massive hole in his chest.  Before the clone's dead body can even hit the floor, the Computer's voice emits loudly though the various speakers in the room. 

CUTTING IN LINE IS TREASONOUS, AND IS DETRIMENTAL TO YOUR HAPPINESS. PLEASE OBEY ALL OTHER POSTED REGULATIONS.

AT YOUR SERVICE.

There are no posted regulations visible anywhere within the room.

-----------------------------------------------------------

After approximately three hours, you find yourselves at the front of the line.  A bored, weasel faced, sandy haired male Infared with a nametag of "Stock-BOY" greets you. 

"Welcome to the PLC, Citizens!" he oozes with a pasted on smile.  "I am here to expedite your equipment requests.  Please provide your mission number to begin."

Having just been through this drill with the electrified door, you are all aware of the fact that you do not actually possess a mission number - or, at least, that none has been communicated to you.  When he learns this, Stock-BOY becomes far less helpful.

"If there is no mission number, then no equipment has been reserved for you," he states flatly.  "Thank you, and have a nice day."