I believe all noobs deserve a place in the world, a place to be respected, why should we discriminate against them? JK NOPE Oh god that sounded harsh :( sorry but not really

Hm... Time for some science. It should be noted that emotions on a DNA level are just chemical reactions that take place to keep an organism alive. For example, pain is the sensation that something is wrong. It triggers a hormone or something that makes you feel uncomfortable, or what we humans call "pain". This sensation causes an immediate response to get away from the uncomfortableness. Therefore, anything that can tell something is wrong and respond to it feels pain. Maybe even computers feel pain when there is no WiFi... Love is an evolutionary emotion too, so I believe animals can love. Of course there are multiple kinds of love. There is the love that is necessary for reproduction. All animals feel that kind of attraction, for obvious reasons. There is the love of family and friends, which is evident in social creatures, as they take pleasure in socializing. Mother animals that take care of their babies also feel this love. And then of course is empathy, which dolphins do show.

Being an author of incredibly sappy articles myself, congo

Death from pun

Congrats! Damn that's dark.

Cool beans. Also, is the crystal reward a cheap way of getting tankers to join the AWS? :P

Great and philosophical! Got me thinking...

Euphoria Conclusions are meant to be drawn. To be discovered, unleashed, to be revealed to the world. Most have laid dormant for millennia, waiting for the right pair of eyes to discover them. Some are well hidden; it takes a true genius to find them. Others are in plain sight, yet stubborn minds refuse to accept them. ______________________________________________________________________________________________________________ He got out of bed with a groan. 1:00 PM. He had overslept yet again. It was natural, when even the greatest causes meant nothing, to shun the lesser ones. Why should he get out of bed? What was there to gain from it? Yet he completed the routine that felt so natural years ago, before it all happened. Now, every step, every little morsel, was an ordeal. What had become of him? It was as if he was living someone else's life, watching it like a black and white movie. It had lost all color. Two hours later, bed made, teeth brushed, hair combed, he staggered down the stairs to the kitchen. As he took out a bowl of cereal and poured milk onto it, he contemplated this very act. What was the point of eating? Why should he even try? Why? ______________________________________________________________________________________________________________ There is a brick wall to every person. For some, it is closer than others. Some reach the wall willingly. Others unwillingly. A few unknowingly. Yet it is inevitable. The brick wall is always there. ______________________________________________________________________________________________________________ He was walking down the hall at a fast pace. Nurses, doctors, a few others like him all passed by without so much as a glance. He did not care. Right, left, right, right. He turned along the maze of passageways until he found the room. Light. So much light, pouring in his eyes, threatening to overwhelm him. There was a white bed. White walls and equipment. White fluorescent lights. And the beeping. The erratic wave of red on the monitor, showing the heart, the center of the body, had yet to give in to Death. The intravenous fluid, hooked up to the white equipment, supplying the body, when it could not do so itself. The chest was moving up and down. Alive, but barely. The bruises on the neck and chest were showing. The broken ribs had yet to set and heal. And the ruptured lung, popped as if it was a balloon, could not be fixed save for a lung transplant. Nurses crowded around her body, some with clipboards, others talking quietly. They were all glancing at her as if she was a specimen, a frog to be dissected perhaps, not a human being. She was just another piece of evidence for some obscure law of Science. One nurse turned around when he walked in. "Hi, I'm Melissa. Pleased to meet you." She extended a hand, flashing a smile beside the dying body. He was filled with disgust, but he hid the emotions and pointed at the patient, asking if she will survive. The nurse faked a look of worry. "She's brain dead. We have her hooked up to the ventilator, but she can't recover now. It's useless. I'm sorry. We thought you would like to be by her side when we cut the ventilator." He stalked off, filled with contempt. ___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ The brick wall is a fact of life. It looms over the best of us. It is useless to resist. When faced with the brick wall, some cower and run, quite oblivious to reality. Others face it head on. No matter. When the brick wall makes impact, everyone falls. They are all the same now. The poor, their fall is soft. They have nothing to lose. The rich, their fall is a hard smack to reality. Gold, diamonds, luxury items are all gone. Useless. They become but another face among the masses. It doesn't matter if they will be remembered for generations. It doesn't help them. The brick wall is the ultimate savior. The ultimate symbol of equality. ___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ He is solemn on the drive home. He has no one left to love him. To care about him and what happens to him. If he dies, nothing will happen. The Earth will still orbit the sun. Life will go on. His life isn't important, after all. He pulls into his driveway and slowly walks up the steps to his house. He does not want to go to work the next day. But he must. __________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ There are two kinds of people in this world: those who can see the brick wall, and those who can't. Those who can know their time on Earth is limited. They approach this fact in multiple ways. The rich often slather themselves with riches, until their affluence is noticed and detested by most. The poor often seek simpler ways to be happy. They are pitied by most. Still, there are those who draw the conclusion that the brick wall is inevitable. Why should they avoid it? __________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ He thinks the meeting is a waste of time, but he does not say so out loud. Advertising campaign. What good will it do whether the poster is green or red? Why should they bicker over the font? And the spacing was the most obnoxious debate of all. A few dollars for the company won't change anything. The CEO's pocket will still be fat. He will still be living on minimum wage. A man walks up and presents another idea: put a cartoon figure in to appeal to children. He talks for what seems like an hour. Then a woman walks up and presents a counterargument. More people get up and present their opinions. He sighs. This is useless. They have wasted hours debating trivial details such as the exact shade of red and the size font. What good will it do any of them? What good will it do him? He stand up and presents his opinion. Everyone is shocked. He walks out the door, humming. He is not surprised when he is told that his services are no longer needed. ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ It takes a special kind of superpower to see the brick wall and accept it. Most people refuse to see it. Those who see it usually don't accept it. For those who do, there is no turning back. No forgetting. The brick wall will haunt them the rest of their life. It will accompany them until death, when they will be united forever. ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ The therapist looked him in the eye. "You're going to be alright. I'm gonna help you cope with this, ok?" She talked as if he was a little child, slowly and emphasizing every word. "Let's start simple. What do you like to do?" He racked his brain for something, anything. He once enjoyed biking and hiking. He liked observing nature. But those things no longer meant anything. What was the point in doing those? No one will to come back to life. His employer wouldn't magically ask him to go back to work. "A little shy? It's OK. I'll start with myself first. I'm Kristen Brown. I enjoy spending time with my children, cooking, and doing community service. What about you?" He glared at this person, who had everything. She did not care about him, only the handsome sum of money that he paid her. She did not know what he was going through. No one did. He was useless. He had nothing. Nothing was going to change that. "Look, if something is bothering you, I'm here to help." "No you aren't." The therapist looked at him as he walked out the door, hurt. ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ He sighed as he finished his bowl of cereal. The last few days were hell. If only they experienced a fraction of what he was going through... All they knew were vague instructions from Health class. They didn't take him seriously. They thought he was either faking or overreacting. It was infuriating. He got up slowly and walked to the medicine cabinet. Sleep pills. He caressed the smooth surface, like the face of a savior angel. It would only take a few. He poured it all on the table. Walking to the cutlery drawer, he took out a knife. Long, smooth, and sharp. It was beautiful. He lay it beside the pills. He skipped out to the tool-shed and took out a rope. Rough and strong, like an oak tree. It gave him a sense of support and security. His heart fluttered, knowing this was the end, and welcoming it. He lay the rope beside the knife. For a moment he hesitated, scared, panic coursing through his veins. Did he really want to do this? Yes, he did. He absolutely did. He took gulps of air, slowing down his breathing. That will show them, he thought, filling to the brim with anger. He found a sticky note and scribbled a message on it. Dear cruel world, Life is pointless. There is no one left that loves me. No one cares about me. No one will care if I die. He paused before adding: When I was little, I thought the world was a nice place. I was wrong. It's awful. It's hell. Human beings are horrible. They are self centered creatures incapable of empathy. They only care about themselves. They are hypocrites. I'm lucky to have escaped this place. He looked at the table. Pills, knife, and rope. A wonderful sight to behold. He took in his surroundings for the last time. His wooden table. His house with its peeling yellow wallpaper. The freshly mowed lawn. He looked back at his table and extended a finger. "Eenie Meenie Miney Moe..."

Unfortunately, the series has been discontinued until further notice due to lack of attention and/or author boredom. Referring to yourself in the third is the first sign of insanity :P

The Tanki Tribune: Edition 3 Dear admin plz drop me a gold box :( Lag Terrorizes the Community __________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Tanki. Imagine a peaceful Kungur CTF, with its array of different combinations and tactical positions. Tanks glide about smoothly, engaging in combat every now and then, and taking attempts at the flag. It seems as if this battle will be one of the rare ones that go unmolested by mults, saboteurs, and unfair teams. Alas, as a Hornet darts back to his base with the enemy's flag fluttering above, his screen suddenly freezes. The fps drops dangerously low, while the PING shoots higher than the moon. He watches in horror as his tank teleports halfway across the globe, dropping the flag, before going up in a not-so-blaze of glory. Instances like the ones described above are becoming an increasingly common occurrence throughout the Tanki community. "I was going to catch a Gold Box. It would have been my sixth or seventh, but unfortunately, I passed right through and flew off the edge of the map." recalls a distressed tanker last Monday. "This has to be one of the worst plagues since '12." Indeed, the year 2017 does not seem to be off to a good start. According to a recent poll, 100% of Tankers polled claimed to be experiencing heavy lag, although it should be noted that all of them were using Internet Explorer. "Just a few hours ago, I was invincible, but I couldn't kill anyone either. Am I supposed to be invincible?" recounted a particularly sketchy tank. Everywhere we went, tankers always seemed to have particularly interesting stories about this recent bout of lag. From insane parkour, to going through walls, there are enough incredible stories to fill up a colony of bookworms. However, our absolute favorite had to be from GoldRock himself. "I got a kill. A legitimate kill all by myself." the legend told reporters yesterday by the beaches of Rio. "Maybe I can capitalize on this lag and get another. However, that's highly unlikely. I bet Night_Sisters will admit Blue paint is ugly before I get another legitimate kill, even with the help of lag." These highly unlikely situations beg the question: What caused this lag? There are many theories, including bugs, hackers, bad servers, WiFi, Jason Bourne, God, Spaghetti, UV radiation, the Illuminati, or Godmode_ON. However, the most logical explanation for this crisis seems to be alien intervention. "We scientists like to base our hypotheses on experimental observation." Isaac Newton, director of the Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence, or SETI, told us last week. "There have been multiple reports of alien sightings this past week. We have good reason to believe in these stories, as they come from many credible sources including, but not limited to, 4chan." The closest life-sustaining star system to our very own solar system is none other than Alpha Centauri. Situated four light years from Earth, it has been impossible for scientists to make contact. So what exactly made them interfere with our beloved TO? "Cookies," explains conspiracy theorist King George III. "No intelligent civilization lacks a craving for cookies. Now since Alpha Centauri is four light years away, and the fastest speed in the universe is the Usain Bolt, or 27.7 mph, we can be assured that they must have sent out the interfering radio waves at least millennia ago, which is scary because we didn't have radios millennia ago. We are not sure how sending out those radio waves were part of Alpha Centauri's plans to steal our cookies, but we warn all grandmothers to never share any recipes." "Great." remarked a foodie at a Save the Cookies rally earlier today. "Now I have to worry about my little brother AND aliens stealing my cookies. What hope do decent people have in this cruel, cruel, world, what with Trump as president and Don't Pokemon Go and Drive signs on the highways?" However, not all is lost. "We are close to a solution." promised a team of professional procrastinators to an anxious crowd. "We just need the motivation and cookies that such a difficult undertaking will require, before we begin the brainstorming phase. After that, it will be a piece of cake. We plan to have this done before the end of the century." Developers also assure us that they are working to resolve this ongoing crisis. "Lag is an incredibly hard infection to combat, and should the merits outweigh the sacrifices, we shall probably consider to maybe fix a line of code or two." While several minor groups are also working to find a solution to the issue, other tankers are organizing pep rallies and "lagger hunts", events to capture and interrogate individuals suspected of capitalizing on the chronic lethargy. "I wanna catch 'em all, you know? Those lagger noobs mults. Unfortunately, there are too many of them. Our developers ain't done nothing since '06, and we are too few. They roam the streets like the world spins 'round them." curses one individual. As mults and laggers continue to reign supreme, toppling the throne of the "gold box pls admin", the Tanki Tribune will keep you posted on all the latest news. - Pieface101, freelance writer for the Tanki Tribune Ask Tanker _________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Dear Tanker, How do you dodge a Railgun shot? Sincerely, Puzzled. * * * * * Dear Puzzled, That is a great question. A Railgun's shot is perhaps one of the hardest shots to dodge, as it travels at the speed of a Usain Bolt, or 27.7 mph. Since the width of your screen is presumably less than 0.001 miles, a Railgun shot will travel across your screen in literally the blink of an eye. However, a practical way of training your eyes and muscles to slam down on the arrow keys at a moment's notice is to watch James Bond movies and learn from the best. In addition, try to type at least seven essays a day. Overall, it takes nothing more than timing, skill and perseverance. Practice in a small map because you can see the shot easier. For better training, spend all your crystals on a Railgun M3. It's worth it. Hope this helped, Tanker.

Of course there is a way of severing someone's head without killing them. :P

Part 1 Part 2 Before the Quake __________________________________________________________________ From many lands afar they came Glory or vengeance for they sought With common pride and virtue had Choosing the rightful path they thought Here at the crossroads heroes meet Built on the blood and tears of men Glory shone on the tasks of valor Done before the lion's den The lull in action before the storm Seen in the sky and crystal lake The sun shines bright and birds do sing Always peace before the quake ___________________________________________________________________________________ The Assassin The Tiger-507 was one of the most advanced military vehicles, and a secret that lost men their lives when they announced it to the public. Built like its namesake, it had a bulky body but surprising grace and stealth. The scope of the Tiger-507 was specially designed to be laser controlled, allowing unimaginable accuracy from a significant distance away. The only drawback was the tiny red dot that would show up on the target, possibly alerting it to the danger. As the assassin sat in the Tiger, making his way across the desert to another military compound, he could not help but wonder how important General Enton considered this. Not only was he allowed to take any transportation he asked for, but also be given any budget he asked for. Theoretically, he could ask for a hefty loan and make off with it, but the assassin was a man of his word. On the other hand, he never forgot unfinished promises made to him. As the Tiger glided through the desert, even the stifling hot air could not suppress the sense of importance the assassin felt. General Enton had practically begged him to hunt down one of the most notorious terrorists alive. Sure, it would be a more difficult task than most, but he felt certain he could handle it. Chuckling to himself, the assassin aimed the scope at a lizard. The last thing the poor beast saw was a flash of red. Looking at his map, the assassin turned onto a minor road to a small town where he would pick up supplies and swap the Tiger for a helicopter. As the dunes and scraggly rocks and bushes sped past, the assassin considered falling asleep, but quickly thought against it. It was a grave mistake to let his attention lapse, even for a moment. He shook his head, and stared ahead at the road, where a little boy was sitting. "Hey kid! Get off the road!" the assassin called out, not stopping or slowing down. The boy looked up, mystified by the strange vehicle the assassin was driving. "I'm warning you! Get off now!" said the assassin, accelerating. Rather than getting off the road, the boy backed up slowly, speaking very quickly in a foreign language. When the assassin didn't slow down at all, the boy's eyes widened, and he dove for the side, too slow as the assassin rammed into him. The assassin kept on driving, ignoring the crunching sounds, the screaming, and the spray of red. Fifteen years on the job had a way of turning one's heart into ice. For security's sake, the assassin slowed down and went back to the boy, who was somehow still alive. The assassin picked up the boy and snapped his neck, before dumping him in some bushes by the side. He sprayed an aroma in the air, which would make the vultures appear much quicker. If it didn't work, the assassin was putting whoever sold the thing to him on his "to kill" list. The assassin skipped back to the Tiger, and took out some rags, washing the blood off. He then went back to the scene of the crime, and covered it up with sand. Hopefully, that would throw authorities off for a while. At nightfall, the assassin arrived at the town, easily passing security with his fake diplomatic pass. The border patrols shouted warm greetings after him and pointed towards the embassies. As if he cared about what they had to say. Arriving at the inn, the assassin checked his tracker. He smiled. Years of experience allowed him to predict his victim's moves. Instead of chasing after his victim, he would stay one step ahead of the game. Tewu Tewu glared daggers at the soldier standing across from him. Served him right; he had murdered Little Eno, along with several others. He reached for the pistol in his pocket. "Look, I don't mean any harm. This is just a big misunderstanding." began the strange man, stuttering and holding his hands out. The scene was strangely comical, yet Tewu did not feel like laughing. "A misunderstanding what? A misunderstanding that you seized our land from us? A misunderstanding that you murdered our families in cold blood? A misunderstanding that caused us so much pain and suffering?" Tewu shouted at the soldier. "Believe me, I didn't mean any of this." the soldier started. "I didn't mean any of this either. My grandparents were living in a village long before you men. You came and seized the land from them. From us. You preach about equal rights. Do we have equal rights? Is this so called 'equal rights' the reason that you seized this from us? You can deny us our land. You can deny the lives of our people. But can you demolish the crimes you have committed?" Tewu spat. The soldier looked like he was trying to swallow a watermelon. "Look, we may have taken the land from you, but..." "But what?" "Look. It's hard to explain." "Of course it is. If it was easy to explain, it wouldn't be wrong." "No, but see, we were a people that were exiled. We needed our own country. We could only negotiate with local authorities. They treated us badly for our beliefs. Our families were killed. Slaughtered. Eventually, we gained our independence. And then the insurgents fought back. They were enraged at us, right as our families settled down. Our children and the elderly. I have a wife back home I need to return to. Please. I just need to capture an insurgent leader. His name is Sergei Mansworth." "Quite frankly, I find that hard to believe." Tewu said coldly, although a shiver ran down his spine. Sergei Mansworth. He knew that name. It was the government official who offered Tewu the home and the mission. The man who revealed Zeku's head. The man. The memories. His family. Tewu fought hard to keep tears at bay. "No, actually. Please. We have families too. It doesn't have to be this way." the soldier coaxed. "What justifies you kicking us off our land and killing our families then? We were just fighting back. Fighting for our lives." "No you weren't. You didn't welcome us and tried to push us away from our new settlement. Don't you understand? We had no home. We were exiled. We needed a home. We settled here, hoping for a warm welcome from the locals. Instead, we were attacked. We had to fight back." "Oh. So you expect us to welcome an intruder?!" "We aren't intruders. We are guests. The host doesn't attack his guest, does he?" Tewu had reached his boiling point. He took his pistol out, and nodded at the rest of the children. They wielded various weapons of their own. They were all willing to fight for their families. Their broken promises. Their spirit. "Permission to kill." Somewhere in a parallel universe, the prince and evil wizard charged at each other. The Assassin The assassin surveyed the battle from his stealth helicopter overhead. The little boy and the target stood apart from each other, faces hard as if in an argument. Behind the little boy were the other children. They wouldn't stand a chance against the powerful guns the target's squad was equipped with. However, they probably would bridge the gap to the target, killing him. The assassin wouldn't have to lift a finger. "Yo dawg, you sure you don't want me to fly closer?" asked Jerome, the pilot. The assassin sighed. He was going to kill this man after this. But not now. "No. And if you call me dawg again, I will skin you alive." Jerome paled and nodded. It didn't matter anyways, thought the assassin. Jerome was as good as dead. He just needed to pretend Jerome had a chance of living. He sighed, and turned back to watch the battle. The children took out various weapons. Sticks and stones, but the lucky ones had pistols. Still others had their fists. The target backed up slowly, while the children advanced on him. Any sudden move, and the field would be launched into chaos. The snipers kept their guns trained on the children. They held a firm allegiance to the target, so the assassin considered killing them. He decided against it for the time being. After all, there was a good chance the target would die. And then one of the snipers fired a shot. A crack. The world seemed on edge for a moment, as if in shock. No one moved. The assassin was about to get impatient and throttle Jerome and everyone else, when all hell broke loose. The children surged forwards in a great wave of anger, charging onto the hill like a tsunami. They wielded their makeshift weapons, with anger and certainty in their eyes, as if they knew this was the last battle they would fight in, determined to go out in a blaze of glory. At their head was the boy talking, Tewu, like an enraged bull, heading straight for the target, Watson. Not even firing his pistol, determined to crush Watson to a pulp, he charged, with a fire in his eyes. As bullets flew around him, he marched on unscathed, like an immortal. As cracks resounded, mowing down wave after wave of children, they were replenished constantly, like an endless waterfall, crashing over the rocks. A little girl, barely able to walk, was knocked clean off her feet, crashing into those behind her and knocking them all down, like a bowling ball. The children were being picked off from both the front and the back. As the assassin watched, a man emerged from behind the buildings and began firing. No doubt the man known as "Beckett". He needed to eliminate the threat immediately. He focused on the man's neck through a scope, and fired a shot. A spurt of blood shot out from the neck of Beckett. Jerome trembled and cowered in his seat. The assassin fired another shot, just for show. Jerome hid further. "Yo dawg, could you stop firing, please?" Jerome called out meekly. The assassin glared at him. "What did I tell you about calling me dawg?" Jerome trembled visibly, his knees knocking together. "I... I'm sorry." The assassin shook his head. "Open the door." "Why?" "Just do it!" the assassin hollered. "Okay, okay. Calm down." Jerome said, unlocking the door. As soon as he turned around, the assassin swung around with a grunt and kicked Jerome square in the gut. A look of shock and fear spread across his face as he flew out the door, tumbling towards the rocks below, screaming. The assassin looked over the edge. "Bye bye!"

The Tanki Tribune Developers Swiping Crystals Right Out of Our Pockets? __________________________________________________________________________ TANKI - Most tankers rely on a steady supply of crystals to account for their numerous hulls, turrets, paints, and supplies. Whether it's the fact that they are relatively easy to obtain, or the complete makeover that they can do to a tank, crystals are one of the most central aspects of Tanki. Denying the fact is pointless; just look at the adrenaline rush a gold box can bring about! However, recent developments have led members of the Tribune to investigate a scandal. According to a tip off by an anonymous reader, developers have been slowly funneling crystals away from our accounts. Numerous reports have already been filed, and a major strike may be on our hands. "I logged on one day to find out that I had 100,799 crystals," an enraged tanker tells us, "Even though yesterday I could have sworn I had 100,800 crystals. I'm one crystal short of being able to buy everything I ever wanted for Christmas. That means I have to actually work to earn that crystal by battling. The horror!" Indeed, similar situations are happening all over the Tanki community. "As a very frugal person in real life, I am sad to see even a single crystal go," explains an anonymous tanker, "however, I still do not understand the importance of taking a single crystal from a depressed tanker, thinking they will not notice." According to our statistics team, there are anywhere from twenty thousand to twenty million tankers. If Tanki takes a single crystal from every tanker, then that would mean Tanki would have anywhere from twenty thousand to twenty million crystals. "Now that's a lot of money they're funneling away from us at a time," explains George Washington, the professor of mathematics at Tanki University, "because that's twenty to twenty thousand gold boxes the developers are catching in the blink of an eye. That's more gold boxes than most tankers catch in their lives." One possible explanation for the purpose of this crystal cache is to pay the community helpers. "That's right. Recently, Newspaper Reporters went on strike and didn't make a 'Best of AWC' for Issue 59 of the Tanki Online Newspaper (which is in no way, shape or form superior to the Tanki Tribune)." explains a Tanki historian. "Apparently, their paycheck of CENSORED (EDIT BY PROOFREADER : UNCENSORED - 1 CRYSTAL) wasn't enough." In order to confirm this theory, we visited the houses of several reporters and ex-reporters alike. Most notably, while trespassing on GoldRock's property, we caught glimpse of a small bag filled with what appeared to be the sought after substance. When questioned, all the admin had to say was that "I never received any crystals, nor have any other members of the crew. Also, how did you noobs get in here?" Despite GoldRock's claims, we have conclusive evidence that such a conspiracy may be taking place. We visited a secret organization who is too important to be disclosed even to this day. "Although people think we are a bunch of conspiracy theorists, what we do is actually based on fact." explains an agent to us. "After all, theories are founded on evidence, and evidence is fact. What we know for sure is that a very sketchy scheme is taking place, but when we send an agent to observe the disappearing crystals, for some reason, they observe nothing of importance. However, the second they walk out the door, and I literally mean the exact second, we get hundreds of calls." The worst part is, we are up against the developers of the game, not some obscure group of hackers. That means the very creators of the game itself is leeching our currency. "This poses a problem that there are only two solutions to. Both are very unpalatable to say the least." a strategist tells us. "First, we can spend all our crystals to prevent leeching. As it is, there are many lines of code and firewalls to prevent crystals to spontaneously generate. That makes it impossible for admins to magically make crystals appear out of nowhere, thus without any tankers to pick on, we reach a stalemate. However, almost no one wants to spend all their hard earned crystals like described. A second solution would be to organize a massive strike, but doing so would require tons of coordination and communication, which we lack." A third possibility would be the use of Teletubbies, but we have not sorted out the details of that yet. Nonetheless, we are making progress. An organization called Bank of America has decided to support the Tanki community. "That's right," a spokesperson told us, "as your plight touches our very hearts. It is our primary responsibility to make sure that all our subjects, I mean customers, are safe and happy. Thus we let you keep your crystals safe in our banks." However, Bank of America has scandals of its own. Recently, it has begun partaking in its favorite pastime: hidden fees, rivaling those of the actual Tanki developers. It has also begun shutting down accounts and giving innocent tankers credit cards. "My son has recently spent $1000 on a 'Railgun M2', whatever that is," says an exasperated parent to us, "I just wish he would learn to be bit more financially intelligent. Also, can you please tell him not to post pictures of his credit card on Twitter?" "The truth is, there is nothing good to do." says a no-drugs advocate. "No matter where you turn, there is corruption, corruption, and corruption. It's like watching a Nicolas Cage movie, only the Nicolas Cage movie is worse." As we tankers struggle to keep float and hold fast to our crystals, the Tanki Tribune will keep you posted on all the latest news. "Remember, not all is lost." our motivational quotes team reminds us. "There are many people that are nice and will help. Just as long as it's not one of those jerks with the halo. It's not stylish at all in case you were wondering." -Pieface101, Freelance writer for the Tanki Tribune

So you're a newspaper reporter/helper now? Congrats! :D

A great lesson for life. Well written. Reminds me of this famous quote: That which thou shall may not be thy one wishes thy deeply thou asketh.

Oh shoot. Time to learn ballroom dancing.

Nice! Creepy story

Actually, I had many of these articles pre-planned, but it's true I spend more time on these than actual English essays. Don't tell my teacher I said that. :ph34r:

Oh. That was completely unintentional. :blink: :D

Part I __________________________________________________________________________ Before the Quake General Enton __________________________________________________________________________ General Enton glanced at his watch. 1400 military time. Which meant Commander Watson should have arrived at his first rendezvous point and would be preparing to enter the last known home of Sergei Mansworth. Yet as he looked at his screen, Watson, a tiny green dot, was twenty miles off course. Enton sighed. He should have known that Watson, reckless as ever, would not heed his orders and choose to go on his own little adventure. Even though he told him personally to send a message before going against orders. There was a knock at the door. "Come in." said the General without looking up. Years of military experience showed that if you did not acknowledge someone, they would work extra hard for you. A tall man with a black suit and pants entered. Enton observed the slight twitch in his mustache, the way he fiddled with his black hat and glasses. It was the slightest sign of nervousness, but yet, he took his seat with the air of importance. "You received my message?" asked Enton, looking up and clasping his hands. The man nodded, spinning a pen. Enton felt the slightest bit annoyed at the man's insubordination, but if the world renowned assassin was up for the job, Enton did not want to deter the man. "As you know, we want to capture a man. Sergei Mansworth." the General started. He waited for the man to react in some way, but all he did was motion for the General to continue. "We already have a man on the job. Alan Watson." The General looked up to see if recognition would flash across the man's face. It did not, although even if he knew the name, the General doubted a trained agent would reveal his true emotions. "However, I do not trust Watson to complete the task. As I cannot go against orders, I have sent Watson on false documents. I want you to capture Sergei Mansworth and bring him back alive." The General waited, before passing over a manila folder. The man made no move to collect it. Enton considered pushing it further, but decided not to. He was, after all, one of the highest ranking members of the military and far more important than this measly spy. "One last thing. If you happen to run into Mr. Watson, I want him back in my office. I am tired of his endless insubordination." The man looked up and addressed the General. "Don't worry. You will have both men at your disposal before you can call me back." The General watched as the man walked out of the door without taking the folder. Tewu __________________________________________________________________________ Tewu rolled over on his cot, trying to sleep. Last night, all the memories had come rushing back, threatening to drown Tewu in a tsunami of nightmares. Little Eno waddled into the room, tossing Tewu a slice of bread, grapes, a Hershey's Bar, and some sour milk. Tewu sat up. It was what? A month? Two? Maybe even three months since the man came and struck the deal with Tewu. Now he was endangering the survival of his family, right in the middle of a war zone. The man never told Tewu what was important enough to warrant sending him to defend. Even the pistol he was given was polished and lubricated to allow smooth pulling of the trigger, although it had never seen any action. "Can you tell me a story?" asked Little Eno, popping grapes into his mouth. Tewu cracked a smile. "Maybe. Not sure if there is any space left on the walls." "C'mon. Please?" Little Eno begged, making the cutest face he could manage. "I promise I won't draw the story on the walls after you tell me it." "Alright, alright. But promise." Tewu warned. Little Eno nodded vigorously. "Ok. Once upon a time, there was a forest." Tewu began. "Was it a big forest?" "Yes, it was a very big forest. With lots of trees and vines. It was very dark and spooky-" "How spooky?" "Little Eno, stop interrupting me!" Tewu scolded. Little Eno hung his head and mumbled an apology. Tewu patted Little Eno on the head. "It's ok, I'm only kidding." "Anyways, in the forest was an evil wizard. There was also a prince. Now this was a very special prince. He was on an adventure to cleanse the forest of evil. He had killed every single evil creature, and now he came upon the hut of the wizard. Now this wizard was very clever. He called out saying, 'O great prince? What brings you here?' The prince called back in an equally charming tone, saying 'I, the great prince, am here to cleanse the forest of all evil.' The wizard replied, saying 'Alas, I believe you have failed.' Now, as you can imagine, Little Eno, the prince was confused. 'What are you talking about? All I have to do is rid of you and I will succeed.' But the sly wizard replied, saying 'But there is one more task you must do. Once you have disposed of me, you must dispose of yourself, too.' Obviously, the prince thought it was a trick, but the wizard replied saying, 'Have you not seen your evils from the other's point of view? You have needlessly slaughtered lives of the forest. Beasts, and their offspring have fell to your sword. Have you not seen how all you meet cower before the light of your blade? We inhabitants of the forest consider you to be the evilest of the evil. You take lives, where there is no need or retribution. You take homes, where you do not even live in. You take all we have from us. I ask you, is that truly what a good person does?' But the prince countered. 'That is what you have done to us humans too.' 'Alas, is it necessary to fight fire with fire? That will only grow the inferno.' 'What are we supposed to do then? Stand idle while our houses burn?' 'No, but we are not pure flame. Evil does not mean without Good. Good does not mean without Evil. It all depends on the perspective. Men claim friends to be Good, while they claim enemies to be Evil. Those who they misunderstand are considered Evil as well. You humans see us as Evil because we burned down your villages. In turn, you claim the slaughtering of beasts to be just. We see the slaughtering of beasts to be an Evil against us, so we claim the burning down of villages to be just.' The prince thought about this for a moment, and said 'So, wizard, shall me make friends and heal the rifts history has caused?' But the wizard replied, saying 'Alas, history has caused to gap to widen so much that it may be beyond our ability to close. It is not easy to change one man's beliefs. It is nearly impossible to change the belief of a kingdom of men.' And so the wizard and the prince charged at each other, prepared to fight to the death." Little Eno looked at Tewu, confused. "What is that supposed to mean?" "I don't know. It's a story Mother told me once. An old folktale. Ask her." As if on cue, a bullet went through the wall, piercing the skull of Little Eno, allowing him to finally join Mother. Alan Watson __________________________________________________________________________ "No! Stop!" called out Alan, to the uneasy members of his squadron. A few stray shots rang out and ricocheted off of concrete walls before silence finally consumed the situation. Alan assessed the damage. Apart from the little girl, a few other children were shot down. A ten-ish year old boy, his arms spread out as if to protect those behind him. A six-ish year old, who looked so alike he could only be the ten year old's brother. An eight-ish year old girl and a boy. A pair of twins. The rest of the children had either scattered and were now hiding behind the buildings, or they were now slowly regrouping in the center of the village. "What is it?" asked a member of Alan's squad through the walkie-talkie. "They're children, not soldiers. I'm going down to talk." replied Alan, scrambling down the hill. Johnson tried to stop him, but Beckett held him back. As Alan made his way to the bottom, the crowd of children had assembled to a few dozen. A few mumbled nervously, while others eyed him uneasily. A few children clutched onto personal belongings. A photograph. A blanket. A stuffed animal. Wooden cars. An amulet. Still others held sticks, stones, slabs of concrete, wielding them, unsure whether to attack or not. "I come in peace." called out Alan, unsure of what to say other than that. The children exchanged glances and drew back nervously. "Don't worry, I won't hurt you. I promise. I'm incredibly sorry about earlier." began Alan. The children mumbled. A few shot Alan glares. "Look, all we want is information. We need it to fight off a bad man. We won't hurt you." Alan coaxed. The crowd drew back, and a few shook their heads. It occurred to Alan that they might not understand English. "No, I'm not the bad man. There is a different man who will get all of us killed. Me and you. We need to work together." Alan tried. A little girl cocked her head to one side. A little boy sucked on his thumb. Alan watched as Beckett sneaked along the side, searching the buildings for clues. Alan gave a sigh of relief. He could get the children occupied until Beckett found the needed information, and then they would retreat. No one would be harmed. "Look, I have a gift for you." Alan said, taking out a wooden flute. It was a gift from his wife, to keep him entertained during the war. Alan played it, managing a few short, squeaky notes. "See? Flute." Alan said, tossing it into the crowd of children. Someone caught it and began examining it. The children argued among themselves, trying to get a good look. Someone took it and snapped it in half, throwing one half at Alan, and stomping the other half into splinters. The children shot accusing glances at Alan, as if the flute was filled with deadly gas. "No," Alan argued, "We are good people. We never harmed you or your families. You can return to them when we are done." One child angrily raised a hand. It was missing a finger. Another child waved her photo of her family. The faces of her parents were both drawn over with a big, red, "X". More children held up evidence of damage, angrily accusing Alan. "No, please. We can learn to be friends, right?" Alan pleaded. A boy came running from a house, carrying a limp body. The crowd parted to let him pass. "My name is Tewu. Give us back our land, evil man."

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The Tanki Tribune Tanki's Finest News Source Tanki Imposes New Laws On Mults _____________________________________________________________________________ Tanki - Anyone who has been in a battle with a person who just tries to make it difficult for the team knows the frustration a good mult can induce upon innocent tankers. After all, having no friends in the real world, mults satisfy themselves by causing others immense pain. However, the reign of terror that mults hang over us may soon be over! "Yes, we developers have not turned a blind eye," explains a hassled Tanki Administrator, "After all, your safety is our primary concern. In an upcoming secret update, we plan to catch mults by surprise and send them to concentration camps by the thousands." The Tanki Team has generously given us a sneak peek, so that we can tell you what to expect. "Remember, this is only a sneak peek, so all stats and numbers are bound to be changed by at least 500%," our spy reminds us, "As with all games, people assume the gameplay videos are accurate, but when the update actually comes out, the gameplay is completely different." "Our plan to stop mults is much like the Pied Piper's way of ridding cities of rats," explains a developer, "Step one is to bait out the mults. Step two is to capture them and subject them to torture devices. Step three is to prevent mults from returning to Tanki. For the Pied Piper, he baited out the rats with music. Then he lead them away from the village and subjected the rats to torture, even though the story never mentioned it. To prevent rats from returning, he lead all the children away from the village." The exact details have not been agreed upon for step one, but Administrators claim to have several ideas. "One possible way is to bait out the mults with crystals. One drawback is that innocent tankers may be baited out too, but a few sacrifices are necessary. The second drawback would be that we do not know how many crystals it takes to bait out 99.9% of mults (the other 20% isn't enough to do any real damage, interjects a Tanki Statistician), but we have an idea of how many crystals are necessary. Anywhere from one to a million crystals would be necessary, which is a much smaller range than we estimated originally. To solve this dilemma, we have our own undercover tanker who will try to live the life of a mult to get a sense from their point of view. Remember, if you have any complaints about a certain GoldRock, just keep in mind that he is working for us." A second idea to bait out mults would be a Monte Carlo promotion. "According to a recent survey, 105% of tankers who claim to be mults also claim to have pushed someone off the side of the Monte Carlo map. If we announce a special event for Monte Carlo, like a special gold box, then we can capture everyone who attends. We remind all innocent tankers out there to not play on Monte Carlo for the next decade or so." The hardest part about both ideas would be to continue into step two. "The thing is, there are thousands upon thousands of mults. In order to capture them all, we would need to close down multiple servers and undermine hundreds of lines of code. Quite frankly, to facilitate this procedure, we ask all tanks to cower in the garage until New Years. Anyone who disobeys and wanders over to the forums will be shot to death by our team of Railgun snipers (Shaft doesn't look cool enough)." Although developers have not decided who to put on the team of Railguns yet, they assured us that they would figure it out before the majority of tankers died of old age. "Already, we are assembling the team," explains Cedric Debono, "and everything looks good. Not only will they shoot down stragglers, but they are an essential part of torture for the mults. A second device we will use is a prototype called 'lag'. It is still in development, but we believe that this is the most effective form of torture. Not even the most cool headed tank can handle having their FPS plummet. Of course, we have hundreds of unannounced forms of torture, such as having a gold box drop but only giving one crystal." The developers quickly pointed out that the original idea to send mults to concentration camps was quickly scrapped. "We voted in favor for it, until we realized that we were based in Russia, not Nazi Germany. We didn't want to plagiarize Nazi Germany as we heard somewhere that it was an illegal offense and we did not want to get sued because we liked having lots of money. Of course, since we have a strict policy, we will be firing the man who suggested the idea, as it wasted lots of time on only one stage." Developers repeatedly reminded us that they were working on all three stages at once. "Yes, stage one will probably be the first to be implemented into the game, but that doesn't mean we haven't come a long way on stage three," tweeted Tanki EN, "We already have made a new AI that will determine whether a player is a mult. Yes, the coding may be a little choppy, but that's why you can help us. We have released a new website called quickmult.com. It is a game called Quick, Mult! The point of the game is to teach the AI examples of multing. You will have twenty seconds to do an act of multing, and get the AI to correctly recognize the act." When asked for more information, the Tanki Team was quick to decline. "We will be posting videos of each of the stages on our YouTube channel, though," they assured us, "We highly recommend all tankers out there to leave a like on the video and subscribe because we will be giving out crystals." Seeing as the developers were busy and could not be bothered with any more interviews, but also because our overnight tents were not meant to be used for a week straight, we quickly retreated from the Tanki headquarters. We will keep you posted as more information comes in, although members of our team deemed this update favorably. "After all, it's finally an update that Tankers actually will like." Pieface101, Freelance writer for the Tanki Tribune *Any questions for Ask Tanker, and any requests to join the Tanki Tribune should be written in the comments section below.

Oh... shi...****ake mushrooms

(11) That belonged all to me ;)

Brown. What was the answer to post #1000?