But... but you promised me there'd be a zebra in this week's v-log! :(

If this topic had a downvote button, I'd click it, because I don't want you to leave. You are an amazing person in so many ways, chief of which is your astounding ability to resist the savage conquest of Lhamster. *Salute*

*Sniffle*

Hmm... yes, and it seems that a certain sneaky person may have hidden his real photo the same way, though not necessarily in this topic..... :ph34r: B)

Glad to see you will be publishing something soon. Good luck!

Copying material is plagiarism, which is the technical term for theft of intellectual property. Plagiarism is just a real a crime as stealing physical goods, therefore you are encouraging theft. Another ugly consequence of plagiarism: it ruins your reputation, meaning no one will consider publishing or even reading your work. I think I may be the only one who remembers the original point of personia's topic. So to try to push this derailed topic back onto a planet that actually has train tracks, I'd like to ask a rather interesting question: "Are any members of this group planning to publish anything soon? I mean, really, is anything creative being done?"

The young boy clutched his mother’s arm as they watched the battalion of hamsters march down the street toward the town hall. “Momma, what are they doing?” He looked up and saw the fear in her eyes as she whispered, “I don’t know.” With a CRASH, the hamsters broke down the door and entered. After a moment, two emerged dragging a plump man dressed in a suit and tie. “NO, PLEASE! I’M INNOCENT I TELL YOU!” A clattering of hooves arrested the young boy’s attention. The biggest hamster he had ever seen trotted up to the battalion, riding his black winged stallion. “ALL HAIL HIS 3VILNESS, LORD HAMSTER, DICTATOR OF HAMSTERDAM!” shouted one of the hamsters. Lord Hamster eyed the terrified captor with a sadistic grin. “Ah, Mayor Gordo, so nice of you to finally reveal yourself after weeks of my soldiers trying to get in touch with you.” The mayor’s voice trembled. “I beg your forgiveness, Lord Hamster, I never received any messages. You know how loyal I am-.” “Yes, so loyal that you burned the messages and ground up the ashes while my undercover hamsters watched you. You think I’m stupid?” Lhamster grabbed the mayor by the collar and lifted him to eye level. “When I require the tax collection from a mayor’s town, I expect that he will comply as he agreed to when I so graciously gave him the position. What’ve you been doing with the money, Gordo? Buying yourself another suit? Maybe your tastes have changed. A dress?” The entire battalion roared with laughter. “I promise you Lord Hamster,” the mayor choked, “if you will only give me time, I will deliver the taxes you requested.” The dictator pulled him closer and shouted in his face. “I GAVE YOU THREE WEEKS OF MESSAGES ‘REQUESTING THE TAXES’!” He dropped the mayor onto the dirt in a rage. The boy shuddered at the cry of pain. That hamster must be a really bad guy. Lhamster motioned for his minions to arrest his victim. “A week in the tickle chamber should fix your loyalty!” he bellowed. Well, then again-. His mother pulled at his arm. “Come, Fen, we need to hide.” The boy followed. “Why are we hiding?” “The soldiers often loot the village after they finish their mission.” * * * * * * * * Fen peeped through a pinhole in the safe room’s wall and watched the hamsters parading away down the street, carrying crystals, pottery, and a few screaming village people. His mother creaked the door open and looked outside. No one around, and the hamsters were nearly gone. “Grab your knife, Fen; we need to go see if the Aine family is alright.” The two scurried to a hut across the street, ducking to avoid being seen. A door opened, and they ran inside. A tall woman in peasant’s clothes shut the door silently behind them. “Oh, Mrs. Harel,” she whispered, “I’m so glad you and the boy are safe.” The fat, red-faced boy standing next to her laughed and pointed a dirty finger in Fen’s face. “Yeah, we thought for sure they’d take him and use him as a foot rest.” Mrs. Aine smacked her son solidly in the back of the head. “Shut up, Rem.” Fen looked out the window as his mother talked about worried-mother-y stuff with Remucus’s mom. The once quiet and quaint village looked like a tornado had shredded it. So many homes had been leveled…. And then it caught his eye. There, in the middle of the dusty street, a glint of blue twinkled like a dying firefly. Fen glanced at his mother, then crept out the door to investigate. The wind threw dust into the air, and he briefly lost sight of the bluish object. The swirling dust made the street seem like a desert on another planet. At last he found it and fished it up out of the dirt. The perfectly round, glowing ball emitted a light hum which intensified as he began to clean the dust off of it. “Hey floormat, what’d ya find?” Remaine waddled over to see just as Fen hid the orb within the folds of his coat. “It’s a… uh… a shard of glass.” A smirk spread across Rem’s buttery face. “Really? A shard of glass that’s perfectly round and emits a light hum which intensifies as you clean the dust off of it? Yeah, I totally believe that.” He stuck out his hand. “Let me see.” Mrs. Harel stuck her head out of the door. “BOYS!” she hissed. “Come back inside before the 3vil hamsters see you!” Fen ran around Rem (which took a few minutes) and darted back inside. “What were you two doing out there?” He pulled out the blue orb and held it up for his mother to see. “This was out in the street.” His mother’s angry expression melted into one of pure shock and awe. Mrs. Aine pointed a shaking finger at the object. “D-do you think that’s-.” Remaine came wobbling in at that moment and saw the orb. “HEY, that’s neat!” He reached up and grabbed it. Fen’s eyes bulged as he tugged and strained to remove the object with no success. The orb had fused itself to Fen’s palm. “That’s it!” Mrs. Harel breathed. “That’s the Nihilis.” * * * * * * * * Fen shivered and huddled closer to his mother as the tiptoed through the cave. Not a speck of light came from the path ahead; their only guidance was the light from the sphere that was still firmly glued to his hand. “Momma, how much further?” moaned Fen. “I’m so ready to get this weird thing off of me.” “We’re almost there Footsie- UH, Fen.” They rounded a corner and suddenly found themselves in a bedroom with a ridiculously old guy snoring obnoxiously on a mat. “Well, I guess this is it,” Fen said, relieved. His mother pulled a brass flute from within her coat. “The ancient legends say that the Inert Administrator can only be awoken with a tune from this special flute… oh, I hope I can remember how to play it.” Fen rolled his eyes. “Eh heh. Think I’ll speed up the process, ‘cause I’m kinda ready to get this over with.” With that, he kicked the man squarely in the hiney. “OOF!” the man cried and jerked upright. “Hey, that was squishy!” Fen giggled. “THA HECK ARE YOU YOUNG ‘UNS DOIN’ BARGIN’ INTA A MAN’S ROOM WHILE HE’S ASLEEP?!” “Administrator? I’m sorry about my son; he’s only twelve-.” “Yeah, well, it’s not the first time conanthedestroyer’s woken up to find a foot in his backside.” The man rubbed his eyes and glanced up at the boy. On seeing the orb, he shouted and toppled backward. “WELL SMEAR ME WITH GREASE AND CALL ME DONALD TRUMP! ‘TIS THE NIHILIS ORB!” Fen laughed. “I like this guy.” “We have heard stories about how you once wielded the power of the Nihilis in battle with the 3vil Dictator Lhamster. You know, back before you, eh….” Fen’s mother tried to think of something nice to say to a guy who looked every bit of a bazillion years old. “… Became unable to fight.” “Ah, don’t be silly,” conan said, struggling in vain to pull himself back upright. “I can still fight!” “Yeah, look mom, he’s fighting now… to get up!” Mrs. Harel put one hand over her son’s mouth and one on the orb, lifting it for conan to see. “We brought it to you in hopes that you could tell us how to use it against Lord Hamster. He has pillaged our town and captured our mayor.” Having finally righted himself, conan took the orb from Fen and examined it. “Yep, that sounds like Hammy, sure ‘nuf.” “HOW’D YOU JUST TAKE THAT STUPID THING OFF MY HAND?” Fen exclaimed. “Magic, my boy, magic. You ought to see me doing housework. I’m a whiz with this sort of thing….” He heaved an exhausted sigh. “But if you’re here wanting me to fight the Hamster army for you like I did back in the day, well, I’m sorry, but I can’t. I’m already paying enough for insurance.” Fen’s mother laughed. “I didn’t expect an old crab like you to- I mean, oh, that’s too bad. Then is there any way you can tell us how to use it?” With a crackling sound like a thousand celery stalks being broken in half, the old man stood up and gestured for them to follow him. “Let’s go into the backyard.” “I think he was taller when he was lying down.” Fen whispered to his mom as they followed. “You’re one to talk,” she whispered back. * * * * * * * * The three exited the cave into a large desert valley in which a small town was built. The streets were cracked and crumbly, and the buildings were collapsing. “What is this place?” Fen asked as he made eye contact with a rattlesnake coiled on a fallen wall. “This is where my girlfriend used to live!” conan replied sadly. “Yep, lovely ol’ Poly… she’s gone now.” He stopped near a fountain, marked with the letter A, that stood in the middle of the town square. “Alrighty now, let’s see if I can remember how to use this thing.” Mrs. Harel watched as the old man raised the blue orb high over his head (so about a foot off the ground) and began chanting mystical incantations. “Hankie mankie orb so blankie, make me a tanki or I’ll give you a spankie….” Suddenly Fen’s tiny body made a POP sound and morphed into a giant battle tank! “Hey!” conan exclaimed. “It worked!” “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!” Fen and his mother both screamed at the same time. “WHAT’VE YOU DONE TO ME?!” Mrs. Harel grabbed the old codger. “CHANGE HIM BACK! CHANGE HIM BACK! HE HAD MY PHONE IN HIS POCKET!” conan shook his head. “Now don’t you two worry a bit. He’s just as fine as can be, though he does sound like he could use a tune-up.” The tank jerked and started to roll backward. “I CAN’T STOP, I DON’T KNOW HOW IT WORKS!” With a SCRUNCH, the tank backed into a building and knocked it flat. “Oh, way to go son! We haven’t been out here for ten seconds and you’re already breaking stuff.” “MOTHER!” “So anyway,” conan interrupted. “The Nihilis has the power to create battle machines ex nihilo, but, as you may have noticed, it has the unfortunate side effect of turning people into tanks.” “Which means it isn’t ex nihilo.” Mrs. Harel chirped. “NOW DON’T GO CORRECTIN’ YER ELDERS MISSY-.” The two people and the tank suddenly became aware of a low rumble in the distance. They listened as it grew louder and louder, and they soon discerned that it wasn’t a rumble, but the sound of a thousand hamsters marching and squeaking in unison! “We’ve been found! Quick you two, follow me!” conan broke into a wild run, while Fen and his mother followed slowly behind him. * * * * * * * * “We meet again, conanthedestroyer! It’s been too long.” Lhamster grinned in his ancient adversary’s face and shook the chains that held him to the wall. “Comfortable?” The old man sighed and glanced up at Fen’s mother. “Why didn’t you run faster? Surely you heard the hamster army approaching!” “Ah, shut up you old coot. I was running as fast as I could while still following you, which meant I was basically standing still.” Lhamster strode majestically over to the tank parked on the opposite side of the dungeon. The treads had been removed, rendering it immobile. Muffled whimpering could be heard from deep within its engine. “And now for you, child. How does it feel to run on diesel?” The tank shuddered and shook as its whimpering turned into a fit of hysterical crying. “Ha ha! And I haven’t even begun to cut your armor plates off! This one’s going to be fun.” A hamster minion stepped forward, bowed, and handed his master an oxy-acetylene torch. A jet of blue flame bloomed from the nozzle with a sharp HISS. “Let’s see if this tank still has any humanity left in it!” conan strained against his chains. “Boy! You have to hurry! Press the ‘delete’ key!” Lhamster turned and eyed the man with a quizzical look. “What?” KERBLAM! The tank exploded in their faces, spraying the room with shrapnel and knocking the hamster king onto his back. “He did it!” conan squealed with delight. “What in the name of me just happened?!” Lhamster sputtered. “The Nihilis has had a few software updates since we last met, rodent!” A tear slid down Mrs. Harel’s face. “M-my cell phone….” Lord Hamster struggled to his feet and brushed himself off. “Okay then, that was easier than I thought. Now, conan, if you will kindly tell me where that Nihilis is, I will probably consider possibly thinking about maybe not kind of torturing you, sort of-.” A mob of screaming hamster minions burst into the room, followed closely by Fen the Tank. “I RESPAWNED IN THE BARRACKS!” he shouted gleefully. Lhamster threw open a door and dashed out into the parking lot, with Fen hot on his heels. * * * * * * * * “Listen up, troops, here’s the strategy.” The herd of tanks looked up from playing in the grassy meadow, rolled into a perfect line in front of Generalissimo Fen’Harel’s tank, and stood at attention with their railguns held high. “Lhamster is incredibly fat and slow. I nearly finished him off myself a few days ago when I ran over him, but, as it turns out, he has quite a bit of blubber to prevent him from getting smushed flat.” He took a deep breath, pulled himself to his full height, and said with a dramatic voice: “For years, we have toiled under the oppressive rule of that tyrannical rat, but this is the day that will all end. Look not on the battle ahead as a dangerous obstacle between yourselves and freedom! Consider it rather to be a paved road with a gentle incline leading to our dream of independence, only that the road is very narrow and there’s a lot of mailboxes to avoid. Tankers! Gird thyselves up like the legends you are about to become! TODAY WE SHALL DEFEAT THE 3VIL HAMSTERS!” Exuberant cheers filled the meadow and echoed off the sunny skies above… and echoed, and echoed, and-. * * * * * * * * “SEMYON! Are you listening to me?” Semyon Kirov jerked out of his daydream and rubbed his eyes. “What?” The man across the table shook his head in disgust. “I was trying to help you with your math homework like you asked me to!” “Sorry my friend, I was just… well, I had a neat idea for a computer game.”

At your service.

HEY! Don't you be disrespecting my white vans! White vans is love! White vans is life! Man, everything, my white vans could beat your white vans any day of the week and twice on Sunday! You gotta be kiddin....

Heh heh. Honestly, the only reason to scream "NO KILL!!" is because you wouldn't have a chance if sometanki fired a shot. And to be just as honest, I pay close attention to who says that in battle. Then, if I see them, I destroy them first when the gold drops.

Okay, great, guess I'll post another picture.

Not to interrupt or anything, but I thought I'd post this nice picture of Darren and me at Brest, taken a few months ago.

What's my name? "STRA-TOS." What's that mean? "I'M TMART!" :wub: :wub: Jacarius B. my cousin, that was for you. Peace out.

Hmm. Didn't read the comments until now, and now that I read them, it seems that this topic has been tainted by the blight that often afflicts good topics on this forum. Not that I really concern myself with it now.

Well this is an interesting looking club. I would have joined had it been here two years ago, when I graduated high school.

The farmer gaped in horror as his herd of cattle ran over a cliff and plunged into the ocean. All he had worked for, everything he had owned… it was lost. Hearing laughter, he wiped his teary eyes and squinted to see a man far in the distance, standing where the cows had grazed only moments ago. It was his neighbor Allen, and he was holding a cattleprod. And then, it all vanished, replaced by the words “You have logged off.” * * * * * * * * Allen was laughing so hard, he could hardly type. Destroying other players’ property on the free mobile MMO farming game “Hoedown!” was against the rules, and that made it all the more funny. He signed into the game’s forum and scrolled to the “Misc. Topics” section. Time to post an obscene photo. A blip suddenly popped up on the screen. “PM received from ForumAdmin Passionate_Slowcooker.” Ugh, what could he possibly want now? “I just received a complaint that you pushed a player’s cows off a cliff. While he was not able to provide a screenshot to prove that you did it, he is missing twenty cows, and you have some pretty nasty karma. I hope it was not you, and hope you understand that destroying a player’s property is against the rules and will result in a six-month ban.” I’m so sick of getting these-. KNOCK KNOCK. Allen set his phone on the table and walked to the front door. Who could be visiting at this time of the morning? He opened to find a short, dark-skinned man on the steps, his hat pulled low over his eyes. In his hand was a gun. Oh God, not now. “I don’t think I have to tell you why I’m here,” growled the man, “especially since you’ve been warned twice.” “The money’s in my account; I finally scraped it together. I’ll withdraw it first thing this morning.” The man stood silent for a moment. With a sudden movement, the man kicked Allen solidly in the stomach. Allen gasped and sank to his knees. “The boss told me to put your body in the dumpster down the street.” The man grinned as he pressed the gun to his groaning victim’s head. “Just… few hours… ‘til the bank opens!” Allen managed to gag. Looking thoughtfully at his watch, the man nodded and pulled away the gun. “You’re right. As much as he wanted to read the police report of your disappearance, I know getting the money you owe him will make him much happier.” Allen struggled to stand as the man stepped back down the stairs. “Oh, and don’t bother trying to spirit yourself away,” he said over his shoulder. “I’m not leaving this area until that debt is paid.” Allen shut the door and leaned against it, gasping and rubbing his belly. I thought I was done for. He glanced around the messy apartment. Now, what was I doing? Ah, yes, trolling the moderator. The phone showed another message from the mod. “I’m aware that, in times past, you have publicly made fun of the rules and indicated that you have no intentions of abiding by them, which is why I’ll be watching you like a hawk from now on.” Man, I’m Mister Popular today. Everybody wants to watch me. “LOL its not important to obey the rules man” Allen typed with a smile. The reply came quickly. “Our game is played by over two million people who want to have a good time without worrying that someone’s out to hurt them. You may not care, but I care. Those two million players care. So yes, it is important.” Ooooooh, mod’s gettin’ maaaaaad…. “You want to know why I don’t obey the rules?” he typed. “I’m assuming you’re going to tell me.” “Because it’s FUN to break them.” After ten minutes, there still was no reply. * * * * * * * * Allen strode up to the teller’s window and handed the smiling employee a withdrawal note. “I need to take out five hundred pounds.” The woman’s smile instantly faded. “Very well….” She turned to her computer and began hammering the keys. Allen glanced idly around and saw the black SUV parked outside the front doors. The windshield was too heavily tinted to tell if anyone was inside. “Uh, sir?” He turned to find the woman eyeing him. “Yes?” “Our records show that there’s only five pounds in your account.” He laughed. “That’s cute; I like you! But I really am in a hurry.” The woman didn’t laugh. Allen felt the blood drain from his face as she swiveled the monitor around for him to see. Five pounds exactly. * * * * * * * * MY PHONE! WHERE’S MY PHONE?! Allen stomped frantically around his apartment, throwing things aside in his search. I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR THIS- ah, found it. He scooped the cell phone off the floor and stuffed it in his crammed duffel bag. All he needed now was his keys, and he could put as much distance as possible between him and his troubles. CRASH! All Allen ever saw was a man breaking down his door. * * * * * * * * “This is the most horrible case I’ve ever seen.” The doctor shook his head in disbelief as the body was rolled away. “Shot, then beaten headless with a club. What is the world coming to…?" BEEP-BEEP. The inspector fumbled around in his bag and pulled out Allen’s cell phone. “Hello! It seems the dead man just received a text message.” It was a PM from ForumAdmin Passionate_Slowcooker. “You’re right. Breaking the rules is fun, sort of like how computer hacking is fun. Oh, and that reminds me. Thanks for the money.” The rules were not made to be ignored and broken. They were made to break you if you ignore them. Also in the Warphare series: Psychological Interpersonal Internal Practical Final Supernatural

There’s a panic that surges through the heart of a twelve year old boy as he peers into his precious grandmother’s casket. At that moment, he realizes two things. The perfect, blissful world he knew has been forever ended by death, and one day it will end him too. The death of my great-grandmother Crosby completely changed the way I lived and thought. My own mother says I was a totally different person when we left the funeral home that night. I went from being a reserved, controlled little man to a hyperactive, overly-extroverted loose cannon. People were surprised and amused by my off-the-wall intensity, completely unaware that I was doing it to beat down the voices in my head that were screaming THEY’LL BURY YOU ONE DAY. The prospect of dying terrified me, and so for the past nine years, I’ve lived like there’s no tomorrow. I’ve swallowed every diversion you can think of, from sports to video games to girly TV shows. I’ve done everything I can to drown out the voices, including play Tankionline. These two years of tanking have, believe it or not, been a massive help in my maturing process. At the time I joined the newspaper, I dreamt of a writing career, one in which I could craft the types of fantasies that I’d been frantically filling my mind with. Fulfilling my duties month after month has taught me that writing is a job, not a dream. To cap it all off, yesterday, on February 26th, I saw my gravestone for the first time. “Always plan ahead” has been my family’s motto for generations, and that means reserving funeral plots. Mine was purchased and positioned just two plots from my grandmother Crosby. I’m not the crying type, but seeing my name on a granite slab broke through the wall I’d been building for a decade. All the distractions and temporal pleasures on Earth cannot stay the hand of the Reaper. With that lesson firmly branded in my soul, I am quitting Tankionline. This wonderful game has provided me with many an hour of carefree enjoyment, and for that I give it and its community my heartfelt thanks and blessing. I can honestly say that I’ve grown up on its battlefields. But it is a diversion, and that’s something I no longer need. I’m going to quit trying to reclaim the innocence of my childhood and start being a man. I’m going to find a better job, marry the lady who’s been so patient with me for so long, and we’re going to have a family. One day, my children will play Tankionline. That’ll be good for them. It will give them something fun to do as their gravestones stand waiting. * * * * * * * * Going to go ahead and knock out the questions I know are coming, as well as provide a few last thoughts on things: FAQ List of every topic I've made: Advice for tankers who want to write for the paper Last words on Supplies I want to thank the English Tankionline community, its reporter group, and you, dear reader, for everything that has happened during the past thirteen issues. This has been one of the most enriching and educational experiences of my adult life, and I will always cherish and live by the lessons I have learned during my time here. God bless you all. This is Chris Bragg, aka sonofchrysalis3 or Stratus, saying goodbye and wishing you all the best.

Or maybe one for the Batman v. Superman movie! Our tanks could look like the Batmobile!

What do demographics have to do with anything?! Anyway, I did not say that I don't like when people chat, I said what I have been saying for two years. I utterly despise that moment when I realize that the reason my team is losing by ten flags and I am leading my team having only gained ten points is because the others are having a freaking family reunion, complete with a table full of covered dishes! To quote my enraged self on many an occasion, "Less Talki more Tanki." Oh, and my other quote too: "If you want to sit in the battle like a pimple on a hog, then go find a hog." I offer these quips to you, Sir HichigoShiiro, for your personal use in battles wherein you find yourself in the midst of a team full of bricks.

^^^^^ ^^^^^^ the gnat's wisdom showing through again....

My agreement meter is off the charts! Feeling lightheaded.... Seriously friend, I cannot upvote you enough on this. People sit like bumps on the proverbial logs, doing nothing to contribute, and they ruin the game for everyone. What I find amusing is that, when you or I or anytanki else complains about this, someone always screeches "IT'TH JUTHT A GAME!" Exactly. It's a game, and it's meant to be played. You don't spend five minutes setting up a game of Monopoly, stand over it blabbing with the other players for hours, then put the board back. That's insanity. Another humorous detail is the fact that most of the players who scream that it's just a game are the ones who often scream about mults, and sales, and other unpleasant things as if this game is all that matters in life.

00:41

Allow me to provide a few thoughts from the females on this flotsam.

What do you take me for? I am not that low class okay I have like thirty sisters.

What the heck has happened to the forum....