Cause my name was meant to be Archangel, but it was stolen and I had to use i for appearances :) I don't like using "_" or "." or any other name fillers, I like whole authentic names with no breaks and starting with capitals. You may say Archangei is not authentic, but it's the closes I could get :)

You can't :) When the server is open for public testing, it will be announced :)

I've like 5 :)

Yup. A skilled modeler can make decent models in any program :)

You have to buy them.

You can't make tanks "look like that". Those tanks are designed in a 3D program, probably 3Ds MAX or Cinema 4D. 3D programs are a lot more difficult than photoshop.

I'm sure their comments were biting, and I've gotten my share in my time. But why play with Gns in the first place? Besides with m1 equipment vs. a bunch of druggies you will be absolutely no good, and that could even be considered multing (which is bannable) so be careful!

Keep on practicing, nice progress :)

Removed

Epic :)

Also most rules will not apply to group records, but we still have to think this through :)

I mean exactly what it says. Most tanks lined up.

They're too busy trying to make you happy.

No, sorry. Any modifications to the game are forbidden, as is any third-party software to alter gameplay. New physics will be introduced soon, and new hulls will come in the future.

No, not yet. No we can't tell you, cause we don't know and the Devs won't tell us either. Parkour as we know it will become more difficult, although better parkour will rise in its place :)

Sketch it, draw it, illustrate it, or just describe it.

Hello Tankers, here's your chance to show your poetic prowess! The assignment: Write a poem consisting of at least two four-line stanzas - that's 8 lines of poetry. (Maximum 4 stanzas/16 lines) The theme: The poem must be related to some aspect of Tanki online. The deadline: Entries are accepted until November 25th. The method: Submit your entries via a post in this thread. The earlier you post you submission, the more chance you have of receiving crystals for originality. The reward: First place receives 20 000 crystals, second place - 15 000 crystals, third place - 10 000 crystals. The example: With a hundred Thunders at my back I drove like mad to find some cover Those awful beasts won't cut no slack It'll take me ages to recover Now I sit in my garage And ponder on my sad defeat I'll pick a better paint to dodge Their hateful bullets on the street At last the loading time is done I stand again before my foes But now it's clear who will have won It's time to keep them on their toes Good luck!

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. This article is meant to be pure humor, and no offence to any party is intended. "Fed, I need help!" Eragon's high-pitched voice could be heard from the near-by garage, if not five blocks away. "I don't know how to open this tank!" Fed groaned as he buried his face in his hands. "Why can't that kid just learn to read?" he wondered. Pretending to not have heard the young Gefreiter, Fed got up from the chair and was about to continue his rounds around the base, when Eragon burst into the room. A number of crashing noises followed in his stead, and Eragon grinned sheepishly. "Fed, I've tried everything, I just can't get it to open!" Eragon pleaded. Fed's emotionless expression remained unchanged, and he didn't budge. Eragon blinked a couple times and tried to smile even bigger, though it made him look utterly ridiculous. At last a sigh escaped Fed’s lips, and he shook his head. "Fine." Eragon was back at his tank in an instant, waiting impatiently for Fed to come and open the door for him, like a pup that had finally been let out of the house to play. But Fed didn't notice, it seemed, and proceeded to stroll past the tank to the old work desk, piled with tools and greasy tank parts. Picking up one piece at a time, he threw them casually away, not caring in the least where they landed, until at last a soiled piece of paper could be seen. "Like I've told you before, there is a manual." Fed picked up the old book, barely discernable in appearance from the old rags that lay scattered around the garage, and flipped through a few pages, until coming to the section he was looking for. "Compartments" he read aloud. Eragon rolled his eyes and slumped into the wobbly chair facing his tank. "I've read that manual hundreds of times, there's nothing useful in there" he murmured. He soon regretted his tone, as the open book came slamming down into his face, and all could hear was the rhythmic steps of Fed leaving the garage. He pulled the book of his face and saw the simple latch of the door he was trying to open clearly sketched out on the page before him. "Oh". “You will be punished by your supervisors.” Rem gleefully eyed the frightened recruit. “You’re not allowed to be in this garage!” Rem, like Eragon, was no more than a gefreiter himself, but he believed he could walk around the camp and boss the young soldiers around. He wasn’t called the Junior Dictator for nothing. Rem smirked as he spun around on his heel and walked over to his desk to finish the “correctional note” he was writing for the recruit he had just rebuked. He hummed in harmony with the scratches of his pen, oblivious to the large figure that had appeared in the doorway. “Rem, a word, now.” a deep voice boomed out through the garage, as a large shadow swept over Rem. Rem froze momentarily, noticing that his hand was trembling. “H-h-hamster?” his voice sounded muffled and shaky. Nobody knew why Dan was more often called “The Hamster”, but everyone knew that he was nothing close to “cute” and “harmless”. Hamster had been around for as long as anyone could remember. He’d been an Advisor, an Interviewer, even a Peacemaker. In fact, he had just recently been removed from Administration, due to having given the new soldiers such a scare, that often the Laundry Sector had more wet uniforms to deal with than they could handle. Hamster leaned against Rem’s trusty tank, still out of sight of the shaken gefreiter. “So Rem, it seems like some of the younger soldiers are complaining about your ‘tyranny’,” Hamster began. “I’m sure you’re trying to help, but we’ve got plenty of Peacemakers to keep track of what young soldiers, including yourself, should and shouldn’t do.” Rem gulped. “I hope this won’t happen again.” With that Hamster turned around, and his heavy footsteps could be heard exiting the garage. Rem sighed and let himself relax, though his heart was still pounding. Hamster may be just an Interviewer, but he had friends in high places, and a long history in Administration. Someone to be wary of. “Psst,” the hiss could be heard across the entire garage. “Rob, hurry up, we gotta go, she’s coming!” Fly whispered frantically to his twin brother. But Rob was helplessly engrossed in his graffiti art, and the little black earphones that blasted high-frequency music into his ears didn’t help much. The fast-paced steps could be heard nearing the door. In a last-minute attempt to save himself and his brother, Fly lunged across the room at his brother, skillfully rolling underneath the tank as he did so. Unfortunately the small metal can slipped out of Rob’s hands, flew a few feet up into the air, and then landed on the cement floor. The door opened just in time, and the can rolled bluntly into the polished brown boot with a quiet “thud”. Fly held his breath, and that of his brother’s as well by mercilessly squeezing his hand onto the other’s mouth. A slender hand reached down and picked up the near-empty can. “What a work of art.” A female’s voice rang out mordantly, as the brown boots took slow steps towards the freshly painted graffiti. “I guess I’ll have to take my tank out, while I clean up this mess.” The voice continued with a hint. Fly could hold it no longer. “Okay, okay, Selena, it was us, we’re really sorry!” Fly blurted out. The two dirty rascals climbed out from under the tank, and stood next to each other. Fly stared shamefully at the floor with his hands behind his back, but Rob kept on listening to his music and chewing his gum. He couldn’t care less. Selena had been around the camp for quite some time. At first the immature boys at the base would throw cheesy pickup lines at her, but they soon realized it would always backfire due to Selena’s quick and witty mind. She was never short of clever comebacks, so “Where have you been all my life?” was usually answered with “Same place I’ll always be - your wildest dreams.” In short, if you didn’t want to be made a fool in front of the entire base - don’t mess with Selena. Selena gazed at the two young boys, and decided reporting them wasn’t worth it. “You boys clean up your “art” in the next fifteen minutes, or I guarantee your suspension.” Fly noded gratefully, and dragged his brother out of the garage to get cleaning products. Selena rolled her eyes inwardly, and continued on her daily chores. To be continued...

Kindly post with your alt

The survival weapon on my right is a cup :unsure:

Updated, thanks. Staff records don't count for this record. Updated.

This was dedicated for one of our newest legionnaires - a girl who writes amazing poetry. I guess he wanted to make it a little more feminine, and I love the way it turned out! Thanks :) We're not called the Creative League for nothing ;)

I think Staff - related records aren't really applicable, and have cause questions in the past, so I've removed all records that are Staff-related. That's not to say that Staff members who hold individual records are disqualified.

+1

In order for them to be removed, more than just one player need to kick/vote - usually three or four.