I'd attempt to plead innocence, but frankly i doubt you'd listen, and i doubt even moreso that these people would care.

http://forums.station.sony.com/mxo/...mp;#36300030788

 Darminian

Message Edited by Darminian on 09-18-2005 06:37 PM

I had heard that there was a file within the profile of said character whcih contained your profile data, you should look around you never know what you may find even if you don't succeed.

Darminian

Lol.

Crap, i was really hoping to edit mine, that sucks, we should be able to change it, don't you think?

Darminian

Hell i never even got one cause of the full inventory bs at the time.

Darminian

---

jerkface wrote:
A new district?


Maybe that would be enough to get everyone out of Mara Central.

---

HAHAHHAHAAHAHAHAHHAHAH, nothing against you jerkface but Mara C will always be mara C unless 50  lvl 255 agents secure the area and even then, it would just be all the 50's of mara ... wow that would be sick.

 

Anyways, as for secret areas i couldn't agree more. I was in an office building with a giant bookshelf and i was just like *secret passage*, *secret passage*, *secret passage* *BA!*.

I think there should be a way to better find entertainment in this place. At least with the vegas strip end we could run a redpill casion (information not money) and find a better way to earn money than farming, just a thought.

Also there is a library in this city, (myself, AgntMills and Gothique learned that interestingly enough) but its locked, i would like to be able to access certain places within the matrix and read and maybe do more. People want to get EXP from doing things besides killing NPC's how about researching the history or content of the matrix. How about abilities that are hidden and can only be accessed with the propper knowledge and training of skills.

 

The possibilites really are endless.

Darminian

Message Edited by Darminian on 09-19-2005 04:51 PM

White, the absence of space, time, anything solid, not even absence can exist for nothing is there to be absent save for him, save for it. He's unnaware of his position, how he's there or if he's there at all, but his thoughts as basic and near-null as they seem underlie his unknown world. No kinesthetic awareness, nor even visual awareness. So long has the time been there, that he's not even capable of sight of himself. If those which are his eyes are open or closed is irrelevant. He is motionless but not unable to move.

Infinity...

Forever...

For all time...

Stuck in this white abyss for as long as there are numbers to count...

From positive infinties...

To negative infinities...

Stuck until were done counting digits from 0 until 1...

The same twisted irony of the half step journey...

But then, all journies have an end...

Perhaps all infinities must end aswell...

A concept that doesn't end, doesn't stop changing...

How can a concept without end, be a concept...

That which is nothing and everything...

Cannot be defined as an amount...

This loop has no ending point...

There is no breaking point...

But therein lies a falsity - an error, an overlooked or perhaps rounded digit to throw off the entire logic of his prison. The impossible half journey completed, the 0 becomes a one and the looping prison reaches it's break. The eyes of this one shudder, and wince - opening slowly the sunburst pigmented irisis take in the brightness of something else - the abyss begins to peel back and soon he's not alone. Within the abyss before him is a door, and returning to him slowly his kinesthetic sense of self. A hand reaches out - his own towards the cold steel handle before him. As the frail and faulty fingers learn to grasp and twist again the door opens and a new world slowly burns into those eyes. His body goes limp as he collapses upon the cold cement of an unfamiliar place.

His mouth opens to release an inaudible cry in agony, as the feeling runs through his entire body, the widened mouth turns to clenched teeth as he gasps for air through them. His body shakes as the feeling creeps through every inch of his skin like a sick toxic within his veins. With a grunt of strain he pulls himself forward, sitting up he's winded staring down at his naked flesh, arms limp against the ground beneath him. Slowly he lifts his hands from the ground and pulls them before his face, he bends and curls his fingers in all the ways he cans, the dancing digits before him slowly shape this new world for him. The fingers stop, and become tightly balled fists.

Pushing himself off the ground, he uses the stone frame beside him for leverage, a door mounted in this wall next to him, now closed. As he gets to his feet, holding the wall for leverage he looks around, atop some kind of plateau, some elevated place. Behemoths of metal and glass around him, familiar strangers. He moves towards the ramp leading downward, these oversized stairs on his left and right, but the slope before him is his task.

A step, another and a third, the descent begins and get's faster and faster as the world around him spins and bounces continously, a blur of these lights and sounds, people in yellow jump suits, neon signs and trash that litter the streets. And then a loud crash and it stops, the spinning and blur, something else his holds attention, a new sensation coursing through his veins.

Hie eyes widen as he shivers - a heavy gasp released as his body throbs with yet another familiarity.

What is this - feeling?

Ah yes, now i recall.

Pain.

The pain coursing through him brings new twinges, awakening more parts of his body as he lifts himself off the ground more confidently. His lip throbs and he runs his hand across it, staring down at his palm, there rests a crimson streak upon it. A small splash jumps upward as a drop falls from his lip to his hand. He traces the tip of his tongue across his own palm and his eyes widen, along with a sick grin. He walks along the dead grass towards an alleyway ahead of him. A strange box of red, black and purple sits to his left as he makes his way forward still. One of the strangers in the yellow jump suits stands in front of him with a grin.

Nice birthday suit punk, ready to die?

He laughs staring into the dark shades of this one in front of him.
Not yet.

The same dancing digits extend with the arm they are attached to and wrap around the throat of this fellow in the jump suit, the shades fly from his head - his eyes wide with fear and pain. From within the suit he draws out his magnum but his wrist is caught by more dancing digits and his eyes widen moreso.

What a cute toy.

The first disturbingly sick crack echoes through the area as the jumpsuit chap tries to cry out in pain and can't. The pressure into his vocal chords too high. The gun falls to the ground as the smile widens below those yellow eyes. His sick grin fades as yet again makes those dancing digits into a fist, and another deafening crack fills the air. Torn tissue and muscle fibre, the broken case for the low level gurgling noise that can barely be heard over the area as the code begins to rise from the dead exile. Reaching down he picks up the magnum and continues down the alleyway.

^Cyntom

He stumbled into a nearby subway, the stench of the place filled his nostrils as he surveyed the area. A single blue pill male was slowly stepping backwards in retreat of strange yellow eyed individual. The tinted dark green suit was what caught his eye of this man whose back was now clinging to the grimy tiles of the wall behind him. He approached him slowly and calmly, the magnum still cluthed tightly in his hand. He stopped feet from the man, there eyes meeting awkwardly.

Wh-what do you want?
The bluepill stammered.

Your clothes.

wh-what?

Raising the magnum to eye level he struck up his symphany of cold metal. The bullet spiralled gracefully out of the barrel and his reply was heard as the deafening blast of the gun - the encore was the hollo casing hitting the ground. The finale of this musical masterpiece was the sliding of the lifless body into a crumpled mass upon the floor with a chilling thud.

You're clothes.

Smiled the being with the yellow eyes as he preceded to remove the dark green suit from the body before him. There was hardly any blood under the collar of the suit jacket and it seemed to be a perfect fit, same with the pants and shoes. As he pushed the cold lifeless body of the bluepill up against the wall, he heard the sound of the approaching train. Straightening his tie, he watched it slowly come to a stop before him. He smiled as he boarded the empty train, no one ever came to westview.

several minutes later he emerged from the darkened winding tunnels below the steel and glass playground to find himself near a small bookstore and telephone booth, he continued to walk along alleyways and roads, passing on his venture a large church and the sounds of what can only be described as a playground with guns. Soon he found himself in the center of a wide open court, apartment buildings on all four sides, a tool shed near him, and a playground in the distance.

He approached the rusty swings and monkey bars and sat down on a bench nearby, he took in a deep breath and closed his eyes. He listened to the faint sounds all around him, the leaves and trash caught in a simple breeze - dancing within the court, the creaking of the metal ancients behind him, that have gone without attention for so long. And another sound, something so feint he'd thought he hadn't actually heard it. But then, one as light as an angel didn't really make noise.

Without turning his head, he opened his eyes and with a smile spoke out.

It's been so long since i've sensed the likes of one of your kind seraphim - so long i can't even recall.

The soft and calming voice of Seraph held little to no affect on this one, as he spoke to him.

The oracle would like to speak with you.

He licked his lips and stood from where he sat.

Very well Seraphim - take me to this oracle of yours.

As he turned the golden program before him extended a hand, his palm flat awaiting something.

Here i was thinking you were an angel, not a boatman.

Your weapon.

Ah yes - my trinket.

He withdrew the magnum and pointed it at chest of this angel, for seconds that passed like hours there was a tensness that hung in the air so thick you couldn't cut it at all. That same twisted grin came back to his face as he let the magnum spin upwards and point towards the ground. The seraphim took the gun and placed it within his robe. And they walked towards the small tool shed on the oposing side of the court. 

^Cyntom

From the perplexing vibes of the impossible symmetry, to the rolling dice of the fates of Cormorant.  The corrupt of the waterline spread across the ladder of purity, while the hand of the Viper exhumes dominance over the park of this nineteen-forties pocket of time. Teaming masses are forced together in the grip of the Taibai, the multitudes of rooms lock them together, until such a time that they might migrate to greener pastures.  Beware of the creature of infinite values, for the tail-end chase will never cease to be. Although solace can be found in the domain of the fallen warrior of old, the ironic masquerade of the operative remains unseen.

Symmetry- monument somewhere like that, i don't recall

Cormorant casino

jacobs ladder

historic districts park - with te vipers

Taibai monument

my guess would be the vault here

hamtpon green

no idea from there on

Your fortunes are most grave if you should stumble into the Demon's lair, for the legions of the marrow shall show no mercy to a traveler such as yourself. If you were to seek shelter, the Ethereal planes hold a peaceful dominion despite the house being encased in the raw earth of old. The only minute of silence can be found in the cradle of the aqueduct, beneath the healthy glow of Mars, but the leadership of the Fury will not let you go willingly, for she holds all the cards in this land of Duality.

thinking ashenvale but could be wrong - should there be a demons gang or dungeon

legions of bone - some bone related gang - i'm quite tired bugger off

shelter... no idea

The hide out with the etherals

aqueduct

mars industrial storage

zia courts the furies

club duality

a park... somewhere

Normally I don't share intel, but I'm in a generous mood, besides im hoping for give a little get a little, as im sure a lot of people could and couldn't get some of these.

Darminian

Well done to all those who got or came close on this, hind sight is 20/20 which is why it seems so simple and connected now, but lord knows when i saw it, i just played with the buttons, and contemplated casque and cryptos.

Darminian

OH god help me, save me someone please save me.....

Im drowning in Gothiques Ego.

Darminian

Sounds like a blast. Hope im on the list - otherwise i'll sweet talk, sneak, buy or brawl my way inside.

Darminian

Truly an amazing event - i wish i could have stayed longer but my crap connection along with a computer crash and a sugar high crash from all the sweets i should have been giving out to neighborhood kids - well yeah.

 Truly well done a big kudos and round of applause to the advocates and organizers of that bash.

Darminian

The numbers are very confusing and don't make sense to me.

 But as its a race where in which you have to go location to location perhaps those are what need to be put into the puzzle but the question is monuments, places, sectors, or what if it is? You can narrow it down - only to broaden it further.

Darminian

This looks dark, ominous and foreboding in no way shape or form.

~Darminian

Happy B-day Man.

Darminian

Wanna be shot at - stabbed - hunted - cursed sworn at and spit on?

Wanna be hated by the masses and told what you do, who you are and what you believe in regardless of truth?

Wanna be able to throw it back in their faces when you use that hell to forge your strength and push through?

Want to be riding on a ship whose captain is quite apparently insane and proud of it?

Think you got what it takes to put up with it and be stronger for it?

Lets find out

Darminian - Captain of the Scorched Horizon

You can think whatever you want - but fact is the only thing to deal in.

Guilty by association - and proud of it.

Darminian

Meh, don't rely on much, i've been indebtted a rain check for cookies since the EPN meeting with her. I'm sure she'll get to me sooner or later .... right? .....right!??!?!

Darminian

---

Ecadus wrote:
Looks interesting.

---

Very.

Darminian

((*gives the machines the finger.*))

Anyone picked anything up on this little outward bound wanted sign/missing poster?

Darminian

I sent my answer to persephone - but out of curiosity since im on recursion - how do i send it to him?

Darminian

Well he at least confirmed i had the wrong answer but i don't solve riddles i kill people .... so........ yeah.

Darminian

Sharin the love:

I wouldn't bet that its right cause lord knows it's lead me to the wrong answer - but frankly this is what i got and it seems right so yeah - its the annagram part or anything else thats messing me up. This is the second time i redid the puzzle and it still worked out like this for me.

 So yeah do with it what you will - and if you can see where i faultered please drop me a line.

Darminian

Yeah well i've been toying with those letters the past two days between cyphers, and annagrams - i've only walked away with the ability to pronounce it as one word and a big head ache.

Darminian

What im curious about with the numbers is which side correlates with what direction as in is the left side of the number border 'right' or 'up' and so on.

Darminian

Full Name: Mike Soltys

Handle: Darminian

Preferred Title: Darminian but those around him call him Darm

Height: 6'

Weight: 145

Eye Color: Unnaturally and vividly blue

Hair Color: Brown / Dirty Blond

Ethnicity: Canadian / Caucasian

Age: N/A

Hovercraft: Scorched Horizon

Position: Captain - Unofficial leader of the faction

Distinguishing Features: His eyes

Weapons of Choice: N/A

Personality: Pessimistic, friendly, quite possibly insane and very sarcastic.

Strengths and Weaknesses: A lone wolf by nature, this becomes both a strength and weakness. 

Information: Little can be found on record about Darminian, upon review of the data base from zion, most records turn up comepletely empty, not as though hes not there, but as though they've been whiped. He's a loner by nature and never really going with any grain, though many are often too quick to judge him by his tags and those he associates with, he's often much more intricate and complicated, as with most things here he isn't black and white, hes shades of grey. The strangest thing that can be noted of the individual are his eyes, they are a hue of blue not natural or normal by any standards, yet no explanation can be given, or warranted from any but perhaps him.

Darminian

Make me an offer.

~Darminian

You'd have to pay me 5 mil to hug you, but i suppose i left out:

Make me a good offer.

~Darminian

PS - burn.