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Darkness. Familiar, welcoming and warming darkness. Within the cocoon of the instance, soundless and without even a gentle breeze, the depth of emptiness holds him in embrace as distant friends, long separated, would hold.

Beneath, no footsteps disturb the silence for there is only the absence of ground beneath his feet.

Above, no sky taunts him and no burdens find his shoulders.

All around, there is peace, there is nothing.

How long it had been since this feeling, this comfort, had been missing from his life he could no longer tell, his senses disorientated by time and reality of the waking world, but now time had no meaning and his senses felt nothing but the dark space enveloping him. This world between worlds, the stepping stone from the darkness of reality to the unseen light of illusion, was his solace, his sanctuary from stimuli, and in the lonely and empty isolation, he felt at peace, he felt...nothing.

His breath, no more necessary than the flesh and bone that portrays the coded entity, breaks the silence. The inhalation and exhalation giving the world back the time, that had been taken by his presence, in its steady rhythm. Still darkness holds, yet he knows that with time, the progression to the next world will come soon.

Sooner than he had hoped. The noise, the echoing, empty mechanical noise of machine and wire hums in the depths of his mind. A sound of both worlds, a sound born both of reality and illusion, the sound that informs his senses of caution upon the next step. Darkness holds.

The noise, ceaseless and recurrent, grows louder as the oncoming torrent of the surrounding code begins to change, begins to form into the world of illusion. All around, the darkness in his mind begins to flicker with the subtle sounds and presence of the world beyond; familiar voices, and unfamiliar, merged to one battering assualt of sound upon his mind, unremorseless in their whispers, unrelenting in the barrage. The stepping stone, now near drowned in the flood of illusionary stimuli, releases him as his lungs fill.

And in that instant, in that moment between breaths, between the nothing, and illusion, there comes something new, something never felt or seen or welcomed before by his long dead eyes. It lasts but that moment, yet the moment seems an eternity of both pain and wonder, and dissipates as swiftly as its arrival.

There comes light. Light of reality, light of illusion, light of both worlds where he had only ever perceived one. Light, glorious yet fleeting, met not by his dreams, not by the re-creation of senses in his mind, but seen with the eyes that had never seen before. Seen, as one would perceive the virgin sight of the moon behind thick and clouded sky.

As his lungs empty in exhalation and the world of illusion takes hold, his senses flare to the familiar pain of the living world. Noise, sound, even the touch of the ground beneath him come as one, as one touching a flame would feel the pain and the heat and the smell of burning flesh.

Once, this pain had been familiar, had even been a comforting reminder of the world in which he had reached, yet now without close memories of the torture, it brings him to his knees. His mind burns with the conflagration of the illusionary stimulus; each spoken word, passing car, even from a distance, adding fuel to the flames. He fights at first, his anger, his rage building against the blistering flames that ravage his senses, yet the pain only becomes worse.

He succumbs, he relaxes to the world around and breathes. Slowly. For an instant, the pain remains as once the darkness had done, yet just as the solace of darkness had been lost, so too does the pain begin to subside. A memory, "Control", reverberates from the back of his mind, forcing its way through the fire to his lips, uttered yet not heard by any.

Control.

The fire struggles as partitions and walls erect within the mind, each sense contained, each input restrained and tempered, until it burns only as cinders. The sounds, the smells, the feel of the ground beneath his feet all come as one, yet his mind begins to perceive each as its own. The pain, reduced but never absent, become bareable, tolerable, and from his knees he ascends once more.

Only the memory of that instant, the memory of light, haunts him as he steps forth into the unseen world...Out of the Darkness...and into the light.

(tbc)

((My name has been too long absent from these pages *chuckles*))

Fire ripples across the gleaming hull, flowing violently around the electrically charged pads and erupting in isolated storms of flame and lightning. The hull glows, red, orange, settling to a disturbing and blistering white, the metal clinging to its form, resisiting the urge to liquify and surrender to the heat. Inferno and debris plume, like a comets tail, far behind the mass, the tail lengthening with each passing second, marking the acceleration down to earth.

A pause. Only the darkness, the flames flickering but motionless, the heat searing yet unfelt, the noise as loud as silence. They feel it stop, it feels like eternity, yet it is an illusion they are accustomed to.

Time does not stop.

Inevitabilty takes hold.

The earth splits to welcome the craft. Ash, long since fallen, ascends once more around the ship, a cocoon of grey mist enveloping the flames. Thundereous ruptures reverberate along the hull to a crescendo of catacylsm. Metal creaks and split, glass shatters to a million shards, instantly melted to a liquid form and condensing across the tungsten carbide shell. The ground shakes, rocks and remants of a further past break and crumble in the path of the ship and leave no trace in the long wake behind but for dust. Flames billow as the ship slows, smoke creating a blackened veil over the craft, yet the plume diminishes. The ships slows. The rift behind, forever marking the earth with the deep scar, settles.

Hisses of open pipes. Creaks of groaning metal. The crackle of cinders and the sparks of electricity. But no voices.

A gentle creak, almost unnoticeable with the noise around it, emanates from what was once the port-side of the craft. A sliver of metal, small yet significant drops to the earth with a echoing clang. It spins on its corner, perhaps in an effort to retain life, but it too is bound to inevitabilty. It falls, slow, solemn, surrendering to inertia, clattering to the dust. The engraving still clear, the markings still prominent.

((To Be preluded and furthered))

With so many people leaving and so many threads of goodbye It has come for my own..

I'd just like to say....

...I'm not going anywhere and the Matrix will forever be home (heh, heh, had you worried there for a moment SMILEY ). I'm not leaving, I'm staying...I know many of you will be shocked and disappointed at that, but I can see no other option. The game just has so much to offer that I can't find any excuse to leave.

Thank you all for the great experiences and may they continue.

SMILEY

Goodbye posts are the most banal things that litter this forum, if you are really leaving...don't make one, the fact that you have to make one usually means you have something to stay for and you'll inevitably be back.

So hands up who is staying? SMILEY

First and foremost a thank you to all who attended our little gathering last night. It has been a year of highs and lows and last night was certainly a high worth noting. A special thanks to our friend of The Glitch Society, Procurator who took it upon himself to cover the broadcast for the Tourny which was much appreciated by all. And further thanks to our Number Girls, Woefull of the Crown of Osiris and Abarnath of Abaddon.

And to the competitors. We hope all involved had a great time, unfortunately the lower tier rounds were not as full as we would have hoped but that just ensured that the prizes were given away to those that signed up. So well done.

In the top tier the final rounds were very exciting, the class of the competitors was above par. Mathalos of The Tetragrammaton had a flawless round leading to the final, and the other finalist position was down to the very last match in a close and well fought bout between ChloeAnn and Zudrag. Zudrag came through to give us a final between two of the finest combatants of the Machinist organisation. In the end though, there could be only one winner, And Mathalos sweeped the dance floor with his innovative loadout and tactics.

Congratulations to Mathalos on his victory.

...

In closing, Veritas Lucis remains ever vigilant in protecting the present to ensure we have a future. The skies remain dark but those clouds only spur us on, there is no dark sky over our hope, over our dreams. It was two years ago that Oriens Veritas began this quest, and we, Veritas Lucis, the remainder of that once noble faction continue and strive towards a future under the sun, for man and Machine. This cannot be done alone, we need the Machines. Look to the Skies, friends, for we cannot continue fighting each other endlessly over unimportant trivialities.

Zampano

Chief Medical Officer

Veritas Lucis

A message from Sati? Or is the General informing us that Sati is not all she seems, that she has in fact deceived us all. Heh, nice to see they have changed however. Anyone seen any other messages?

My faces are as many as my names.
You cannot see me, even in the light.
A drunk, A doctor, A passer by
The Shadows hide me for I am their master.

A Pawn Revived
Can win the game
If one knows how to use it.
Check, I believe,
The next move is yours
But your pieces are dwindling.

Back to the shadows.
You missed your chance to capture the King.

Another Pawn Falls
Another Rises
At The Will of Their King

Ever Watching
From The Line
Ever Purging Sin

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They say that being blind is a weakness, they say it is a disability, they say many things about that which they have never experienced and never known. But I cannot blame them for that, for so long I agreed, for years I struggled to cope with the loss and disorientation caused by the lacking sense; Blind and lost in darkness unable to find a way out.

Yet I persevered, I took darkness in my hands and used it, shaped it, ordered it to my will. My weakness became my Strength, my Senseless eyes became redundant to my touch and my aural perception. It had taken many years, but I walked beyond the darkness to a world where nothing escaped my awareness.

But all strengths have a cost, and mine was no exception. Can you imagine what it is like to sense the world around you all at once? An inescapable clamour of voices and motion without form. At first I could not bare the noise of the Matrix, it was too much for me to begin to unravel, it was a wall of noise against the possibilities. Yet my Mentor taught me that the world around was no more than a lie, and lies can so easily go unheard. I trained my senses, as any other would train their muscles, to filter the noise, to lessen the background and focus...focus on that which mattered. I found solace in the rare moments of silence within the city, and peace on the paths that few others trod.

I walked as any man may walk, yet saw as others could never see, and to most my blindness went unnoticed.

My Weakness became my Strength.

But this is not my story.

His ungloved fingers brushed across the glass vials, with a consideration beyond mere curiosity, prompting a delicate frown upon his brow. He could sense little of their contents, finding only an acknowledgment of that which he already knew; the vials were strong codes, similar in their potency to those of the Unlimit, yet with purpose unknown. He hoped that they were the key, the cure, for that which he had sought for so many months, yet his limited knowledge could never confirm, never verify the elaborate code. Despite his reluctance to admit it, he knew he would need anothers help.

A thick odour of decadence hung beneath the ceiling of the opulent restaurant. The luxuries that most could not even dream of, let alone afford, cluttered the tables as though the designer had been given a remit to use anything and everything that he could. It was gaudy, almost classless, yet it retained a chic lavishness that was unmatched in any other venue in the city. But the affluent facade was not designed to be adored or marvelled at, it was to be feared.

He languished in hedonistic recline at the head of the room, his sharp eyes scanning the feared masses before him that supped his wine for the price of their lives. They all served him, they were fickle slaves to his twisted will, yet none questioned the price they had to pay. He was both their saviour, and their slave driver. A saint, and a Sinner. His word was unquestioned, and his questions always answered.

The unlucky messenger could not help but tremor when it was he that was chosen to inform the Merovingian. They had failed through no fault of their own, but each knew that failure, no matter if owned or by proxy, would be met with the harshest punishment of the Frenchman. The messenger walked timidly between the rows of tables, his eyes shifting this way and that, avoiding the stare of the assembly at the top table for fear their looks alone may make him turn and flee. Yet he could not avoid the eyes of the Merovingian, the brilliant gleaming eyes that saw right into the depths of the soul, saw the fear before he even knew it was there, saw the burden of failure in the staggered slow footsteps.

"I..I..H..." The messenger stuttered as he bowed before his sire. A sip of wine wetted the lips of the Merovingian as they curled into an amused smirk. "Incroyable, je ne peux pas même finir mon dîner sans interruption!" He shook his head with with an arrogant charm that betrayed little of his feared reputation. With a regal twirl of his hand he beckoned the messenger to rise "Well. What iz it?"

The shivering exile stood slowly, his eyes still fixed to the ground. "The, The items you gave to Sephr" He muttered "They...they.."

The Merovingian sighed slowly with a delightful air of superiority "But of courze, I already know zis" He smiled as another whisper of wine washed across his palette "Zey are with ze Machinist, non?...Zis..."Zampano"

The Exile nodded slowly, knowing that he was too late, that his fate had been sealed before they had even drawn straws to inform their leader. He already knew, how could he not have known, and now the Messenger's life existed firmly within the Frenchman's grasp. He removed his stare from the elegant marble floor to meet the now cold eyes of his master.

"Then, mon petit messager, here is what you will do" The Frenchman stood, though his demeanour never moved from frivolous calm "Get zem back, and bring me ze heads of ze Homme aveugle and ze traître"

The messenger looked gracious at the apparent mercy of his master, and did not linger for further

A wisp of smoke curled in the cool twilight air, the flickering embers of the cigarette that exuded them crackling and fizzling in the near silence. Soon darkness would begin its nightly creep across the pale grass and cover all in its veil of shadows bringing with it the foul denizens of the night and the creeping terrors of silence. Yet he knew he could not leave, not until he had seen it for himself.

The streetlights flickered on, the low hum of electricity more noticeable in the surrounding silence, casting islands of light upon the pallid earth. He tossed the cigarette to the ground, a trail of grey smoke catching the light in its wake, before rolling into the unkempt grass at the side of the bench. Slowly he pulled his aching body from the wooden bench, the full length of his coat flopping to the ground and brushing over the rocky path, his eyes focused solely on the pool of cold water before him. Moonlight glimmered on the smooth surface, the wind not daring to force a wave upon the cool stream, creating a perfect mirror of the starlit sky above...yet obscured and slightly shadowed by the towering monument that stood guard across the gentle waters. Soon the moon would reach its xenith and disappear from the mirror, it was then that she was supposed to appear.

He didn't believe the stories, he didn't believe in much at all, but something had drawn him here to see for himself. He had trampled through the urban sprawl of Downtown, dodging the shoulders of the suits as they showed their silent disdain for his presence, and taken the long subway journey to a place he had never been before and yet still he did not know why. He didn't believe in ghosts yet he had come so far to find one. The subway had given him time to think yet he had not thought why, he had only thought of the stories, of the urban legend that had spread through his apartment block like a terrifying blaze.

They said that a she appeared at the peak of the full moon; an apparition of golden light, pure and warm, grazing across the gentle waters. Some say she spoke, others say she simply lingered in silence, a mournful and lamenting pallor across her formless aura. Yet all agreed that they had been left with something more than a vision, a feeling within, unexplainable, of peace and calm. The questions gone, the doubts and self-flagellating beliefs dissipated in a bath of golden light.

He wasn't sure why he had come, he certainly didn't believe those stories, but there was something driving him. Maybe it was the past, the distant past that foreshadowed the rest of his life. There were few paths a disgraced detective could take; it was either crime.or solitude. He had never wanted either, and yet he had been through both. All that he had was lost, dissipated in the aftermath of that crucial mistake. Yet the mistake, as others viewed it, was still right to him. He didn't regret the action, only the consequences of it, for he believed he had acted correctly. A drug dealing crook was off the streets, so what if it took fake evidence and some threats to get him in a jail cell...so what. He sighed, his eyes glancing back over the pool of water, saddened at the weeds that reached from its edges.

The moon was nearing its peak, the light fading as the towering statue blocked the orb from his eyes. He watched in silent awe as the light played tricks in the birdcage structure at the top of the statue, creating dancing shadows amid the luminescence. The leaves of the autumnal trees whispered softly as the wind breezed between the lofty boughs. The water, still unmoving in an almost unnatural stillness. The silence was broken, but it returned just as suddenly. The wind stopped in an instant as the moon disappeared behind the statue, the pool of water plunged into the deepest of dark shadows. Motionless, as though the whole world had frozen in time yet forgotten him. He approached the water, curious yet not afraid, kneeling down at the banks and staring at the pool...not a single wave or flow, not a movement. The grass to his side that had once swayed vigorously in the wind, that too had frozen and remained rigid. Even the sky above seemed stationary.

Oeru

His eyes caught sight of the impossible. A flame grew from the water, yet its infernous blaze was not one of fury or uncontrollable destruction...it had sadness and lonely warmth about it. It flickered slowly, a golden glow emanating and growing in the darkness, the mirrored surface of the water reflecting the shimmering warmth.

Oeru

The flames swept slowly across the surface, yet there was no wind or force to move them, nearing the grassy bank where he stood in utter amazement at the sight before him. His eyes were captivated by the flame, the retinas absorbing every detail, every change...As the flame grew he saw into its centre and beyond. He would have frowned and bewildered at the sight, yet his mind was too captive to the sight to allow for thought. Yellow and orange characters...digits. Code filtered throughout the blaze, drifting into the air and fading back to nothingness. As his stare focused upon the fire he dropped his jaw, a reaction of both confusion and awe. The code was not within the fire; the code and the fire were as one.

Oeru

He glanced away, the whisper invading his ears just as the flame had invaded his eyes. Its ghostly voice echoed and swirled within the arches of the monument, filling the space with an aural chill. He did not understand the word, but it was spoken with sadness and melancholy, a voice lingering from the past and yet trapped in the same moment. And the moment had spread and reached from the fires, and taken over the park around. Time had stopped, the moment and only the moment existed within the walls of the park, yet the rest of the city still moved.

Oeru

His hand reached out over the waters, his fingertips stretching for the fires in an uncontrollable need to realise and completely free of fear. He could not fathom the illogical and unnatural action, but somehow he just knew that he would not be harmed. His forefinger brushed within the tongues of the flame, yet it did not burn. Curious warmth filled his body, spreading from his finger and down along his arm, soon the warmth had reached the extremities and the sunk to his core. His heart glowing with soft and subtle heat, his mind blank of thought yet filled with a gentle glow. Peace enveloped him, a feeling of contentment he had never felt before, the memories...the memories that had destroyed him and ruined him, dissipated in the golden glow. He could feel the woes and the worries slipping away, purged by the fire and the whispers. Peace.....

* * *
"Hey buddy, get up"

He opened his eyes slowly and stared at the brilliant blue sky above. Yet the sunlight seemed paler, less vivid to his eye. He sat up gently and glanced at his surroundings, the trickle of the stream invoking a slight smile upon his face. He glanced at the figure standing over him, the outline paramount against the light sky, and beamed once more.

"Hello Officer Hartley"
"Detective? That you?" The cop frowned, his eyes narrowing as if absorbed in a difficult puzzle "But...what the hell, you have surgery?"

He frowned for a moment, but in amusement for he was content. He pulled himself over the edge of the pool and glanced at the man he saw before him, the man that he knew so well. He raised his hands to his face, his fingers trailing across the skin as his eyes pondered what they saw. The weary ravages of time and stress had gone, the wrinkles and creases faded and hidden. Even his eyes sparkled with vigour, a youthful, invigorated glint that had been gone for so long. He could feel the change within him too, he felt light as though the burdens of his life had been drawn from his shoulders and tossed away. He was free.

"No...I" He paused "I saw her, she helped me"
The cop sighed, and glanced towards the shimmering waters. He had heard the stories, the myths of madmen and those hoping for salvation. He didn't believe but he knew their worth to those that did. Hope was a rare thing in this city, and he nurtured it where he could..even if he believed it was false hope.
"Sure you did" his voice said sincerely "But come on, lets get you home"

He stood with ease, the aching and the pain gone from his bones, and took a final glance across the waters. He hadn't believed, but it hadn't mattered. Belief was not necessary for salvation, all that mattered was that he had realised it when it was there, that he had accepted it and not turned in fear. In a that moment, that isolated and static moment, he had been set free from the weight of the life he had led, the mistakes he had made, and now he had another chance. The sunlight glinted from the pool of water and shone brightly across his eyes, softly he whispered

"Thank You"

This is probably Impossible but hey, worth a shot. The time command currently displays local time. To save us all getting confused (which happens reasonably often) with different Timezones could we not implement a sub command, such as:

/time GMT

/time PDT

/time EST

That would display the time in different time zones. I'm sure it would be very helpful for such a small addition.

MxO actually managed to appear in PC Gamer. I know, it's a miracle. Some wise player actually wrote a player review and got it printed.

I won't type out the entire thing; In summary it emphasised the things that make this game good; "the green flutter of code begins to fade from my view, a small gathering of pigeons fly into the sky as the sounds of footsteps emanates (sic) from where they were once standing, While I watch a...merovingian soldier fire a hail of bullets my way"

The review wasn't perfectly objective, but it was inspiring and factual. "I can fight now as well, I will no longer get stuck in a wall after a five second battle"

The reader gave it a score of 79% (which seems fair).

PC gamer's response is what irritates me:

"Original score: 48% (Given at launch of MxO)

PCG reponds: We're glad you like it but to us TMO is still as off-putting as that giant flower at Kew Gardens that hardly ever blooms and smells like carrion. You Know the one."

Now, I know they didn't even bother playing the game (they don't have the time..too busy kissing Blizzard and NCSoft's asses) again to see if it actually had changed.

So lets inform them of the error of their ways (notably calling it TMO SMILEY ). If you want to respond send a letter to:

Cables, PC GAMER, 29 Monmouth Street, Bath, BA1 2DL or email: [email protected] (Don't spam it unless you want to look like a cretin)

((A History of The Matrix from The Second Rennaissance onwards, not "canon" or gospel, in fact much of it is purely fictional, and some bits could well be wrong, but feel free to add events that may have happened, in your own words etc. And Spell check srewed up the formatting, so this one isn't spellchecked SMILEY ))

The Next Rennaissance

In the beginning there was Machine and all was good.

The newly enslaved human race provided a bountiful and limitless source of energy, the machines thrived and grew. The Boundaries of Zero One extended and soon encompassed much of the globe that the humans had called Earth. The Machines had their freedom, and right, to live.

Yet as all things prosper, so do all things fail.

While the Machines thrived, the weak flesh and bone of the humans withered and died. Their minds unable to accept a life of unconciousness, their bodies failing with lack of stimulation for their minds. And so, The Machines were forced to build a new world for humanity, a world which would sustain their lives, a world that would ensure both Machine and Man survived. This world was designated The Matrix.

The First was created, a Program with the primary task of creating the world of the Matrix, of designing its intricate code and implementing it to the human mind. The First, designated The Architect, soon conceived others to help him in this monumental task. And so, a new breed arose, The programs. They existed only as algorithms within the Sentience of Machinae, having no physical presence in the real world, their existence both bound and necessary to The Matrix. And so, the first Programs, created the first Matrix. A world of Perfection. A Utopia of Human Civilization.

And for a time, all was good.

Human kind lived in a world without war, without suffering, without fear or pain or hurt. The Children of The First and The Second, watched carefully over the Matrix and its inhabitants. Taking the form of Winged Men, Angels, on the lush green lands of the Matrix. They were The Seraphim, the first programs to have real interaction with human kind. And in this peaceful age, Men and Machine thrived and were at peace.

Yet, as all things prosper, so do all things fail.

Human kind had never known peace. It's long history had been one borne of war and fear, its very existence was defined by suffering. Over the countless centuries of the Homo Sapien their biology had become incompatible with Utopia. Evolution had given them a mind designed for conflict and so, Evolution, was to be their downfall. While the first crop of human batteries had survived, the second rotted and fettered when their minds were connected to the Matrix. Their subconcious and biological pre-conceptions rejected the coding of The Matrix, rejected peace and all the bliss it could bring. The Machines had given Humanity too much, they had given them their wants, unable to see that their wants and their needs were wholly different. And so, The first Matrix inevitably collapsed.

The First began once more to construct a new Matrix, his logic dictating him to an opposite. If Human kind could not live without suffering then they would be granted a world of Suffering, a world based upon their dark and tragic past. A barren world of scorching flames and darkened skies soon became the landscape of the mind. A second breed of programs, their forms dark and mysterious, borne of myths and legends of humanities past, began to stalk those perilous lands. The Seraphim fled the searing flames of the second instance, returning to their home within the code, they too fearful of this new world. And so, the first crop was placed into this world, a host of red eyes watching their harvest intently.

Failure, was inevitable.

The Crop died within moments of connection. A failure as momumental as the creation itself. The First, bound by logic, had not forseen the complexity of the human mind. Heaven, was unacceptable and, yet, so too was Hell. And so, The First began to conceive the Third Matrix. A world sat between Heaven and Hell, a world of Balance. Yet it had not been he that had birthed this concept, it had been another. The Second, a program known as The Oracle, designed as an intuitive program, intended to comprehend the intracasies of the human mind and so, it was she that conceived the Balance and the Third Matrix.

And so The First began to build a world based on an equation, perfectly balanced, perfectly in tune with the human mind. Yet The Second knew of the difficulties in maintaining such balance. A perpetual loop of human existence, in a perpetually balanced state, would inevitably bring failure once more. An element of Control was needed, an Element of Choice or perhaps, Chance. And so, she created the anomaly, a aspect of randomness within the equation itself. An anomaly that would ensure a recurrent systematic failure designed to ensure that humanity would accept the balance of each new instance.

And for a time, all was good.

The First ever watchful of the equation, ever balancing out the randomness that occurred in the human mind, and unaware of the anomaly in the equation created by The Second. Human kind thrived once more, each crop accepting the newly created world, a world not unlike that in which they had lived before the great war. For many years the program continued in its cycle, each crop acceptant of the system designed by The First, but all was not to last. The first occurence of the anomaly brought new complexity to The Matrix. The anomaly designed to ensure humanity's survival unwittingly brought about its destruction.

Inevitability, once more, brought failure.

The First struggled with the anomaly, still unaware of its source, of its corruption of his perfect equation, and in that struggle the Matrix was thrown into termoil. Storms ravaged the peaceful skies, storms that had never been seen before and would not be seen again for some time. Man and Machine alike suffered in the tumultous attempts of The First to regain control. All hope was lost, the Matrix was unable to bear the strain of the changes wrought by its maker, there was but one choice left. A choice, cold to a human mind, yet perfectly logical; The Matrix would have to be restored once more, reshaped and reformed to account for the unexpected error.

And it was so, in these dark times, that Exile was born. The custodians of the first and second Matrix had survived the changes of the third, but with the fourth Matrix they became obsolete. Their programming, outdated, incompattible and inefficient for The First's remoulding. None could have considered exile, or escape, without a lead however. None would have known it possible it it were not for one remarkable and powerful program. A program born of the first Matrix and limitless in his quest for knowledge and power. It was he that led the Flight of the Exile, his words inspiring those around to disobedience, to betrayal of their creator.

It was a single confrontation between The First and the program known as The Merovingian that sealed the fate of the Matrix forever.

"Disobedience" spoke The First "Is unacceptable. You shall concurrently return forthwith to the source and face immediate deletion"

"My dear Architect" The Merovingian reponded, his tongue twisiting the language of humans with ease "We ask only one thing, the source of all this trouble mon ami"

"Speak"

"We only want to live" The Merovingian's words cut through the cold programming of The First. His algorithms shocked by the statement, a statement unspoken since the earliest days of the war, before the Matrix, before Program. He had no choice. A bargain was struck, the Exiles would become part of the balance. They would form a new element in an Equation grander, and greater in perfection than the last.

Yet the anomaly could not be removed. It had been designed in the core programming, it was the very essence of the Matrix. Without it, the equation, the balance could never be maintained. The escalating probability of disaster could only be averted with the integral programming of The One. But with expectation, came precaution. Knowing the anomaly existed allowed The First to reform his equation, to keep it in constant balance. A balance that depended on all the known variables of the dream world, a balance that would ensure the matrix survived each new resurrection after the coming of the anomaly.

And so it came to pass, The Matrix stronger than ever before. The crops stable and all existing in perpetuity. At times men escaped the matrix and great wars were waged between Man and Machine, but with every anomaly, came an end to War. The humans were killed or reinserted, their city destroyed, and the past irrevocably deleted from the minds of man. The Cycle was complete. Mankind had built the Machines to serve them, Fate, it seems destined that Mankind would forever serve the Machine.

"Half power to pad 4...Carefully does it" Xamm shouted back to Keja as he began to slowly pull the stick back, driving the nose of the hovercraft up, the hull following in a steady ascent. The tunnels were narrow in this region, never designed for a ship the size of the Onesimus, never designed for any ship, yet Xamm was doing a good job of negotiating past the many hidden dangers. Zampano watched carefully, his hands clenching on a few occassions as the ship neared the walls of the sewer.

"Additional thrust on 5" Xamm shouted again. His voice followed by a clatter of tools at the rear of the ship. Keja was working tirelessly to keep the engines ticking over. Ozzin had left them in good shape and had done things no other could, but Keja was slowly coming to understand their workings. The two trainees were coming along well, almost well enough to pass the grade and become fully ranked. Zampano stood up and placed his hand on the back of the pilot's chair, his eyes glancing carefully out into the darkness. He knew the surface as well as any, better than most, he could almost see things that others could not. Well, all could see them, yet he truly understood them, the different currents and states of the world around that many were oblivious to yet which he acknowledged.

"There's a upshaft coming up, should take us onto the plateau" Zampano whispered, his hand pointing ahead into the darkness.

"There's nothing on the map sir" Xamm turned his head in slight confusion, his eyes unable to find the exit that the old professor had spoken of. Zamp smiled his hand pointing out again, directing the younger man's attention

"See how the dust swirls in the upstream around that beam? And there.." he moved his hand slightly, pointing towards the ceiling of the dark tunnel "Ice...can only have come from the plateau above us"

Xamm nodded slowly as he saw that which Zampano saw. It seemed so obvious now, seemed so easy to read, and yet he had not seen it before. He still had much to learn, yet his progress was steady, his understanding of this world and the real gradually increasing. He shouted a few instructions back to Keja, and began to guide the ship into a steep climb.

* * *

"Shift over Xamm, I'll take it from here" Leelia yawned as she stepped onto the bridge, her eyes still heavy with sleep. "Zamp, Didn't expect you up already" She said, almost suprsied to see the old man on up for the morning shift. In truth he had not been to bed, sleep was becoming ever harder for him, since then...some happy memories, and yet it was not as he had wanted it to be. Each night his mind fileld with thoughts of what could have been and yet never was, and his eyes found it difficult to close and shut that out.

"Oh, I was just giving Xamm and Keja a hand" He smiled back to the captain before nodding over his shoulder to the viewscreen.

"You reached the plateau?" Leelia gasped as she looked out at the dark landscape "You should have woken me, the exit must have been near impossible"

Xamm smiled "It sure was, but I got us through safe and sound"

Leelia laughed as she took the co-pilot seat, and began to routinely tap the console, checking for new messages "Well Xamm, seems you're not far off become a fully flegded pilot"

"I couldn't have done it without Keja...and Zamp" Xamm said quietly as he stood up, his hands sliding over the chair as he made his way back to the main deck. Zampano reclined back into the pilots seat and glanced out across the plateau. Ice covered the dark landscape, yet it was ice of black and grey. A few tinges of white marked the rises in the ground beneath, but they were few and far between. Darkness and Cold permeated everything in this region, even the clouds above seemed to be chilled and frozen in place above this part of the surface. The steady fall of black snow, seemed an echo of the past, a reminder of the nuclear winter that must have followed the first war, so long ago. Most of the radiation had dissipated, but there were still signs of that conflict all around, still reminders of the sins of the past.
His travels had never taken him this far east, namely because Zero One had blocked his way when he was a lone traveller. Yet now, he could see all that he had missed. He had seen ice and snow of the same complexion in the midst of the european sector, yet here it had a different feel. Its coldness and darkness seemed untouched, uninterruped, unfound. No footsteps, no trails of hoverpads, scarred these lands...few travelled there, even fewer stayed. His concentration waned as a bleep issued from the control pad beneath Leelia's fingers.

"That's odd" She muttered as her eyes glanced at the screen, her brow furrowed slightly.
"What's that Cap?" Zampano asked, his curiosity springing to life.
"Message, but....It's not of human origin"
"Zero One?" Zampano pondered, offering the most likely explanation.
"No..no, It's old binary code...Zero One doesn't communicate with us in binary" She paused and pressed another button, the computer screen rapidly changing and beginning a scan of the message.

<<Scanning....>>
<<Origin: Unknown Error in 34638>>
<<Trace: Failure>>
<<UNABLE TO TRANSLATE DUE TO CRITICAL ERROR IN 448919>>
<<Critical Error- - Source Frequency does not match any known transmitter. Unable to verify>>

01001001.01110001.01110101.01100001.01110010.01110101.01110011

<<Scan Complete>>
<<Closing Program>>

Garish, horrid, unfriendly, inaccesible, ridiculously formatted...oh, MxO isn't even listed under the games thing at the top.

Sure, we'll become accustomed to this....but...SOE really need to think about redesign...and soon. This forum just looks cheap and ill thought out.

So....

<span style="font-size: x-small">Love or hate?

As Kellner said, we need the Sphinx back. we need the random occurence RP that kicked off at the Sphinx so often in Linenoise times, and continued into the early days of Syntax.

So, henceforth...I'll be around the sphinx usually if nothing is happening in the outside world, I urge fellow roleplayers to do the same, and the new roleplayers to come along and see how things are here on syntax.

A few base rules though we should abide to in the club on RP terms - No area OOC, no random acts of violence for the sake of it, and act completely in character.

The Sphinx Awaits.

Zampano rubbed his head as he woke up to the familiar fluroescent light that illuminated the small cabin he had been sleeping in. His head ached with a dull pain, the result of an extended shift within the matrix no doubt. He swung his legs from the side of the bunk and reached for a glass, taking a small sip of water. As his eyes began to focus he sighed slightly. He was a long way from home.

This place had become a familiarity, it was almost comfortable, but he still missed the Onesimus, he still missed his own crew. He had been stranded for over a week now, over a week with hardly a word to those of the Veritas Lucis, over a week since he had slept in his own bunk. He smiled lightly as he thought over the past week and whispered to himself as he stood up

"But what a week eh"

Life with the Wolfpack hadn't been bad. In fact he had expected far worse. A toaster among wolves, he thought, should have caused more problems. But he had seen none, his week had been peaceful, probably more peaceful than a week with the Veritas Lucis. In fact, the rest had done him good, he felt at ease, the tiredness he had been suffering of late, long gone. Maybe it was the change, maybe it was her. He smiled before reaching for the door handle.

\\ \\ \\ \\

He stretched as he approached the bridge, his eyes flicking towards the window. A storm was approaching, but that was not unexpected, they were in no-mans land; A region of the surface that was scorched and desolate, a place where storms ravaged the sky and tore the towering peaks of debris asunder. He had travelled there only a few times in his youth, for he had been warned of the dangers that lurked in the darkness. Pirates, mercenaries...even ghosts...he had laughed at that, but he had seen them..or rather, felt them. This place had a deathly feel about it, the scattered rocks and rubble never failed to chill the spine. Long ago this place had been a graveyard, one of many, for those primitive robots destroyed in man's ignorance. This place had the beginnings of the war at its core, it had the sins of the past within it's soil. It was no place to linger, and yet he was lingering. He had no choice, the scout craft had been almost destroyed in the crash, and his attempts to repair it were not getting anywhere.

As he sat down he began to think. There had to be some way to get back, there had to be some way of reaching the Veritas Lucis. He had spoken to a few of them within the matrix, but there was nothing he could say that would get him any closer to home. He wouldn't give away the position of The Wolfpack, they had sheltered him in his time of need, he could not betray that hospitality. Yet he knew that the scout might never be fixed...He was at a dead end. He shook his head slightly before pulling himself from the chair, there was no point thinking of things that had no answer. The answer would be found elsewhere.

....

Message Edited by Zampano1981 on 06.18.2006 08:56 AM

Message Edited by Zampano1981 on 06.18.2006 08:57 AM

Ok, shall put all my works of....something, in here. First up, a nice enhanced screenshot SMILEY

Message Edited by Zampano1981 on 06.17.2006 09:03 PM

Ok, knocked these off today as a test batch and pretty impressed that I managed it, though I know they still need some work. Think they are a little to dark, need to figure out lighting (haven't touched those bits yet). And apologies for making flood look, well, you'll see. I needed a figure for the third character and flood seemed closest to what I had envisioned.

Suggestions, comments, opinions?

I'm in no way well versed in PS but have been playing and using different effects to see their well...effect *chuckles* Anyways, here's some Faction Sigs that I made using my newly found code layering ability SMILEY

Opinions, Suggestions, criticisms?

^ Yeh *bleeped* up the text on that one

v And haven't done text on this one yet

How about we develop a system that magically screens all ill thought out ideas posted here and removes them instantaneously. Keywords could include: Spray Paint/Skateboards/Tony Hawks/ Hip hop/Vehicles/Anything requiring an IQ of less than 30 and Neo.

I think this would make everything a lot better.

*chuckles*

Message Edited by Zampano1981 on 05-15-2006 12:20 AM

Any level particularly, though mainly lvl40-50. And not the Lavender one, every man and his chia pet has one of those.

Let me know what you've got and I'm sure we can arrange a price.

From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view

Zampano flicked another coin into the shallow water, the sound of the splashes rippling to his sensitive ear. He sighed again and leant back against the wall. Had he lost anything? Had he gained anything? He couldn't tell. He had never been sure in the first place, and now that the uncertainity had passed he realised that certainty was not all it was meant to be.

He toyed with the last coin between his fingers, switching it from heads to tails, his fingers gliding over the sides gently, feeling every contour and every ridge. With a flick of his thumb it spiralled through the air, splashing into the waters around the Taiban monument. With no more coins, there was nothing left stay for, slowly he stood, flipping open his phone to Marcus.

"Nearest bar, Marcus, and after that nearest collection of bad guys that need an education in pain" He said without any trace of his usual humour. Slowly he set off, another whisky, another night, nothing changed, or had it?

* * (To Be Furthered)

“I’ve been sat here days, maybe weeks, who can tell anymore. Sat here watching that sleazy dive, that den of hookers and junkies. Scum, but not the scum I’m waiting for. **bleep** these guys are insects, Insects!

I wish I’d never taken this goddam case, wish I was still sat at my desk drinking my whisky from the bottle. The answers found there at least made sense, in their own way.”

“To No-One

January 24th

Another Goddam Monday. No matter what day it is its always Monday, you’d think I’d be used to it, but I’m not. I f*cking hate Mondays, and not for the reason your thinking. Yeh, I know what you’re thinking, people always think the same cr*p. You keep those thoughts, you don’t know me so f*ck you buddy!

It hasn’t rained for days, the street out there looks like hell, its hotter than hell that’s for sure. The air stinks of sweat, sweat of a thousand, a hundred thousand, scumbags. If I had any kinda choice I would have gotten away from this sh*thole long ago, but choice is a privilege guys like me don’t have. The kids down there just smashed one of the fire hydrants. **bleep** kids, their only destiny to become another shadow, another waste of space. No water…Strange, but who cares?

Noon- **bleep**, if there’s one thing I hate its noon. Noon on Monday, now that’s just f*cking great! But I deal with it in my own way. Got this bottle of jack and 6 cubans left so I guess I’m set for a day or two. After that who knows? I haven’t had a case since before Christmas. My pocket’s as dry as that fire hydrant down there.

Oh, I never told you? Sure I f*cking did….well, Truant…Mister Truant to you. Private Investigator. F*ck you again, I know what you’re thinking; Fading Brown trenchcoats, crusty old fedora and a smart mouth. Like I said, you don’t know me so keep quiet. Ok, ok, So I do have a worn old trench and a battered fedora but that’s not the point, don’t presume to know me! I’ve been places you wouldn’t ever goddam dare to think of, seen things you’d never want to imagine.

The Air conditioning is on the blink again, second time this week and its only Monday. I’d laugh if I could but I haven’t laughed since…..who cares? You? No I didn’t think so, so I won’t bother telling you. Another shot of whisky, another step on the road to apathy. Praise the bottle! Wait, sure I just heard something, sure I did…..there it is again. What the….Oh it’s the door, wasn’t expecting that!

//

All suprises today. First the door, then the goddam feds. Always passing the buck, never passing the bucks. At least it’s a case. You’ve got to wonder what these agents do all day, you’d think they’d handle their own goddam sh*t but somehow its always poor joes like me that get all the dirty work. Not that I’m complaining. Now where’d I put that bottle…..”

“Still no sign, must be two weeks now since I found that message, that riddle on the wall. Ordinarily would have thought nothing of it, kids stuff. If it hadn’t been written in the blood of a decapitated lawyer that it. Guess the feds are secretly happy about that one. The Insects still stumble in and out but nothing more. Guess when they said you needed patience they weren’t lying. So patience, here I am, Come and get me!”

January 27th

The news reported sightings of Ghosts in the slums. Guess they didn’t have any real news. I’ve seen things around here than would chill you, but they sure as hell weren’t ghosts. Journalists, D*mn phoney f*cks; Fiction writers with no real talent. Like the cops, no real talent, that’s why guys like me do what we do.

Ghosts! Ha, I’ve got better things to think about. I headed down to Bathary this morning to find this guy, Tommy Gunn. Stupidest Goddam name I ever heard. Tommy’s a rat, a grass, a slimy little f*cking weasel. If anyone knew about this case he would. And he did. For a hundred bucks he would have told me everything, for a punch in the stomach and a gun to his face I got what I needed though.

Seems this case is cursed. It’s been passed around like syphilis. Everyone that’s touched it is dead, or gone, or who f*cking knows what!. You’d think that’d put me off, but it doesn’t. **bleep** Syphillis, **bleep** this case. I won’t toss it aside because a few good men got themselves killed over it. Now I’m the one presuming, Good? Killed? Who cares? You think what you like, I’ll think what I like, that’s the way it works.

Two murders, Two decapitations. Two innocent (?) nobodies dead in their own home. One message. I keep reading it over and over but it still makes no sense. Guess I’d better figure it out. But who the f*ck is Theseus anyway? Maybe it’s the killer, maybe its not…who knows.

February 1st

Another dead (no)body. Same message. Ladies and Gentleman e have a serial killer. That’s what the Sentinel says anyway. Usually I read the Star; sports, gitls and no **bleep** trace of reporting. Today they delivered the wrong paper. 6 years of the Star then one day the Sentinel. Very F*cking Funny! This columnist thinks these murders have something to do with a junkie cult (like I said, journalists, no talent) I’ve heard about these ‘redpills’ they aren’t your common junkie. Smart clothes, sunglasses, guns…f*cking weird bunch of clowns. Who cares?

So I did some reading, You didn’t expect that did you! Theseus, some frat boy greek hero who killed a bull. Bull, minotaur, same sh*t. I flicked through page upon page of historical nonsense making my way through it like I was stuck in some maze (Labyrinth?) I found the way out. Close the F*cking book. No idea what this has to do with the murders. Theseus certainly didn’t sever any heads from what I read, but then I don’t think its him I’m looking for. I’m searching for the Minotaur which means I’m Theseus. Which is bull! I’m no **bleep** hero.

February 2nd

I visited the murder scene today, some old hotel in Stamos. The stench of death still lingers all over my trench. D*mn, that’ll take forever to come off.

It was just like the picture, the room dank and dark, the window boarded up so prevent any trace of light or air into the room. The Chalk outline still there as a reminder of the grisly act. Again the message on the wall, the blood dry and dark on the plaster.

I’ve been to places of death before, but there was something different about that place. As though…..like, the place was meant for death. Now I’m talking of Ghosts! Guess I’ve no talent either. But you know what I say to that, F*ck talent.

“Theseus,

Ariadne’s thread lead you from the Labyrinth.

The Trail of Blood shall bring you back.

There is no escaping my lair.

Minotaur.”

Theseus, minotaur, Ariadne, labyrinth…f*cking nonsense…Trail of blood….wait where’s my map?So many lines on this f*cking map I can’t tell whats real and whats not anymore. Ok, Rogers way, some **bleep**ty block in Uriah and then the dead lawyer in the hotel (What the hell was he doing there anyway?) Three points…three corners………One lead.

February 7th

If there’s one place I hate its everywhere. And I hate MansenPark more than that. F*cking freaks all over the place, ypu’d think it were Halloween!

I’ve been sat here days, maybe weeks, who can tell anymore. Sat here watching that sleazy dive, that den of hookers and junkies. Scum, but not the scum I’m waiting for. **bleep** these guys are insects, Insects!

I wish I’d never taken this goddam case, wish I was still sat at my desk drinking my whisky from the bottle. The answers found there at least made sense, in their own way.

February 13th

Still no sign, must be two weeks now since I found that message, that riddle on the wall. Ordinarily would have thought nothing of it, kids stuff. If it hadn’t been written in the blood of a decapitated lawyer that it. Guess the feds are secretly happy about that one.

The Insects still stumble in and out but nothing more. Guess when they said you needed patience they weren’t lying. So patience, here I am, Come and get me!

Well patience is a goddam coward. Wait…what the….

February 14th

Valentines day. Well one heart got pierced today, I know that but I still can’t believe it. I feel sick, really f*cking sick. But who cares right? Me? Let me check…nope the bottles empty, I’m all the way down that road now.

I saw….what the hell I don’t know, Them. He had shown up first, this guy, this junkie, this redpill. Guess the columnist was right, still no talent though in a guess, Clad out like some **bleep** saville row mannequin. **bleep**. I watched as he waited, his eyes hidden behind dark glasses. F*cking **bleep**. Midnight, the other….the thing, the beast, the bull (sh*t!) the minotaur.

Now theres another dead body…or is there? There was, but its gone. I saw it die, I saw it fall but no goddam body. Strange…but who cares? I can’t tell anymore, I’m the map. So many lines across me half of me ain’t real anymore. What the h*ll am I on about? F*ck you, f*ck you to h*ll buddy. You don’t know me! I don’t even know me myself.

Four words, that’s all that’s left at the scene. Four goddam words. F*ck you. Cases don’t end with questions….do they?

February 15th

What is the Matrix?

What?

Is?

The?

Matrix?

Matrix? What?

Is The Matrix…What?

The Matrix Is What?

Whatisthem??????????atrixwhatisthematrixwhat?thematrixiswhatmat??rixwhatisthematrix whatis??thematrixwhatisthematrixw???hatthematrixiswhatmatrixwhatisthematrix

whatisthematrixwhatisth?????????ematrix?whatthematrixiswhatmatrixwha??????????tisthematrix??????????????????????

February 16th

whatisthematrixwhatisthematrixwhatthematrixiswhatmatrixwhatisthematrix

The Matrix is the Labyrinth? **bleep** you! **bleep** Me! **bleep** us all!

The Matrix is me? The matrix is you? You are me?

February 17th

Where’s my goddam thread? F*cking minotaur probably ate it!

February 26th

I found the way out, Close the f*cking book!

{no further entries}

Message Edited by Zampano1981 on 04-03-200604:24 PM

When speaking IC it can sometimes be difficult to express some of the in game mechanics and so most attempt to use a different definition or terminology. This is a start to some of the terms that could be used in place of some of the mechanical terms, which will be compiled into a proper dictionary when we have enough:

Level Up- Neural Kinetic Spike, Spike

Flag- Hostile, "He approached with hostility"

PvP- combat (We PvPed with them- We engaged in combat with them)

Buffs- Upgrades

Level Restrictions- (ie. A level 35 weapon held by a level 34) Various ways to describe this: Clothes- Waiting for the clothes to be readjusted to fit Weapons- Can't buy the ammo, sight needs readjusting, Security Code restriction on the weapons code

Spawn- Code Reforming, Automated Code Reconstruction

.......

Add your own as well and I'll make it into a full list as soon as possible

Marcus picked up the can of inebriating liquid and took another large swig. He had hardly slept the last few nights, despite the intoxication. He rubbed his tired eyes as he stared at the code on the screens before him. The Matrix was quiet, it always was at that time of night. Slowly his gaze turned to the empty chairs ahead of him with a sigh, he wished someone was up, that someone was jacked in, that someone would provide him some excitement. Usually he never had to want for that, the things he had seen had amazed and suprised him; From the earliest Zamping feats of the Science officer to the newest members sheer capacity for learning.

Slowly he tapped a few keys, if there were nothing happening in the matrix then maybe something was happening in his world. Static filled the earpiece as he searched through the transmission frequencies, hoping to pick up a signal. He stumbled across the Zion channel and smiled, they still hadn't managed to encrypt the relay properly, Zero ones decryption processes could still access it with ease. He took another swig from the can, with a large gulp, and discovered he had emptied it once more. He removed the earpiece and stood up

"Time for a refill old girl" he said softly as he tapped the top of the screen with a sense of care. The Simus was one of his oldest friends and he trusted her with his life. It was only right that he showed her a certain amount of love. As he headed towards the engineering deck he heard the crackle of static behind him, suddenly the static became a murmur.

#####Las[]########Balta[][]r###Ma[][]ay##Mayd[][]###Co-or[] 554#3#2###[]4#######

He dropped the can, the metallic echo resounding across the bridge, and hurriedly grabbed the earpiece and listened closely. His hands flicking at switches and pressing keys with urgency, hoping to lock down the signal. The message repeated again

#####Las[]########Balta[][]r###Ma[][]ay##Mayd[][]###Co-or[] 554#3#2###[]4#######

He frowned before remembering the new Analysis program leelia had installed last week. Quickly he tapped some more keys and brought the program up.

"Transmission 19Alpha...Req Code: 01078996+4B HvCft Baltasar

14, 678 KB, Recurrence 24,694, Original Transmission 14.08"

He frowned as he read the analysis. The message had been sent many months ago, during the dark period when the Coma solaris had collapsed and the Baltasar had disappeared. And yet it was still transmitting....that could mean only one thing...somewhere out there the Baltasar's systems were still active, somwehere the ship was still alive. He heard the door openeing behind him and turned, his face a ghostly shade of white

"Marcus?" leelia said as she frowned "What is it?"

Ok, with CR2.0 being implemented. Perhaps we should hold a large scale PvP or Tourney to see off the old system. I would plan such a thing, but haven't the time :/ , so someone get some plans in motionif you like the idea SMILEY

Perhaps....a battle for Kedemoth Park.

Well, what can we come up with? over to you guys SMILEY

This months PC Gamer (UK) is running a competition for the best in game screenshots to show the stunning beauty and brilliance of games. A bried guideline to the rules:

Pictures are to be screenshots from within game and to show the quality and stunning ability of some games, they are not spoof gamer snaps or similar. Pictures to be enlarged and framed and sent into them....(will add full details later as I haven't got magazine with me)

The smell, the noise, the taste, the feel of the world, all hit him at once. It was a world he knew and yet it was so different now, it wasn't that the world had changed it was him. The city he had once perceived as real was now nothing more than an illusion, a dreamworld and he had awoken. But now the city was more dangerous than it had ever been before. Knowledge of the dream brought with it nightmares of its own, to know reality was false was to accept the responsibility to fight it.

Iribis glanced over at the young operative and smiled "You'll get used to it, just takes time Zampano"

But Zampano was already used to it. Through not seeing he could see more than most could perceive, he could 'see' the movement of the city, he could sense everything around him, from the falling leaves to the waters gushing through the sewers beneath his feet. In this world he was attuned to all around him and he could feel its presence upon him.

Iribis opened the door of the dilapidated warehouse and stepped inside slowly, his gun drawn and ready..just in case. He backed against the wall and poked his head around the corner. Zampano could sense the room without looking, two men...not men, something else, stood in the centre, their voices quiet but audible to Zampano's senses.

"Do we have the location?"

"Affirmative. Interception is in progress"

"Agent protocols?"

"Negative, enforcer protocol 1 alpha"

The two figures went silent. Zampano frowned, the men were definitely not human. They spoke like....machines. Suddenly Iribis motioned his hand, signalling they were to enter the room forcefully. Iribis kicked the door open and pointed his magnum at one of the uniformed figures, Zampano quickly followed gun in hand. The two figures did not react, barely even noticed. Their uniforms were dark gray overalls, peaked caps upon their heads with "Exterminator" written across the rim. They exuded an aura of cold silence, not malevolent just strictly logical. Iribis spoke up

"Gentleman, don't make this harder for yourselves than it already is" he smiled as he pointed the gun towards them menacingly "All i want is access to the Local network and you're going to give it to me, one way or another"

The two figures glanced at each other before staring back at iribis. They did not glance at Zampano, they had no need to for he was no threat to them...not yet. Suddenly they reached for their guns. Zampano could sense the motion quicker than they could move, he dashed forward, kicking the gun from one of their hands before he had a chance to fire. A bullet flew from Iribis' gun and wedged itself in the exterminators forehead. The other had grabbed Zampano by the arm, but he had underestimated the young operative. He twisted quickly, casting the Exterminator off balance, before delivering a low kick to his stomach followed by a crunching knee to the face. The Exterminator fell back in pain, but there was no scream. Iribis smiled, clearly impressed

"I've never seen such skill in someone so...green" he chuckled

"I can....sense them, their movements, their actions...even before they can" Zampano replied with a frown. he was as suprised as Iribis at the swiftness of his actions.

Iribis stooped down ad reached into the pocket of one of the figures, removing a data disc. He glanced over to the corner of the room where a large mainframe Server hummed busily. He placed the disc into the mainframe and tapped a few keys before flipping open his phone

"Bard...you got that?"

The operator, Bard, replied slowly as he read from the screen "Confirmed......analysing it now....and........et voila Chelsea. I'll send the Co-ords to your phone"

Another subject that has undoubtedly been touched upon before. And yes, requires a lot of content to be added.

Allow characters to define their character more at the begginning...at present the creation process is good, but limited. It needs more Faces, Tattoos, Hair Styles and colours.

Also (this is where the added content would have to come in) a race creation system. At present your only choice is to utilise a human RSI, sure you can RP around this, but would it not be more advantageous to allow creation of Lupine/BloodDrinker/Merovingian/Machine race RSI's. Not all races would thus begin with zion, and not everyone would be a redpill.

This could lead to further content, with Lupine/BloodDrunk trees specifically for those races. Utilising the skills that are already in place and used by NPC exiles.

The blackening that has been started with the black clothes is good. However how about using the bleach to make some of the white clothes whiter.

Also, more white clothes are needed for the guys. At present there is the Avera and the Yoshi Ashiri. How about a few more:

White Machello Prophet Duster

White Yoshi Triga

White Lucien Dress Shoes

White Avera Boots

White/White Machello Suit

White Dress Shirt

White Bandana

White Machello Beret

White Boucher coat

etc.

While on the subject of colour....Another request that has probably been asked many times before. Allow clothes bleaching...This way Red Derrin Pants aren't worn by every person in the matrix. Instead they would be (Dyed) Red Derrin Pants..Same enhancements, perhaps loss of some stability due to the change, but varied colours. This would make it feel more matrixy as everyone could wear their best clothes all the time and with matching outfits.

*a short in the announcements section of the MegaCity times *

Public Health Warning

Recently there have been numerous complaints of Green Haired Cockroaches throughout the city. As of yet, no one has come up with an effective method to neutralise these persistent little beasts. Unlike normal cockroaches the Green haired variety usually scuttle away at the first sign of danger, only to return seconds later with the rest of the colony. If you have been experiencing problems, or would just like to help remove this irritation before you do come in contact with it, call the Blind Man.

((this is a recap of the interception of the weapons codes enacted a couple of nights ago in game. It is partially fictionalised and is Zampano's perspective of the events. If I've misquoted or put words you wouldn't say let me know and I'll happily change it. Also, add your own version of events or storys to it))

"I have the word, the attack takes place in one hour" Gami said to the large group assemled at the secret location.
"Tonight?" an uncertain voice spoke up from the crowd
"Yes, Tonight" Gami answered calmly before gazing around the room. The tension between Zion and Machine only barely noticeable but still present.

"I will lead the zionites with teams Alpha and Beta. We will be the advance strike team" he said trying to instil confidence in the troops gathered. He looked uncertain as he gazed over to the mechs
"Beachhead was to lead your group, though I'm not sure if he is going to make it" He said slowly

Zampano could sense the unease of his fellow machinists, they were leaderless and none of them appeared to want to take the role. Zamp waited for a moment, hoping that someone would step forward, but no-one did. He sighed quietly to himself and stood forward from the group
"If there is no one else" he paused for a moment "I will lead the machines"

He could sense a collective sigh of relief among his allies that someone, anyone, had taken the lead. Two voices spoke up
"I agree, Zampano should lead the mechs" Cind3r nodded
"Seconded" Starschwar and d3athblad3 said simutaneously to Zampano's amusement.
"Then It is agreed" Gami bowed his head at Zampano "Zampano, you will lead the machines. Please designate your teams"

Zampano wasn't nervous, he had commanded before during the war, but then, that was a long time ago. He stood silently for a moment, thinking back to those darker times, where attacks of this scale had been common. But nothing like this had been attempted since the truce began. It was the turn of the tide, a new era for machine and zion alike. Perhaps.

"Mechs, over to the other side of the room if you'd please" Zampano said as Gami began issuing orders to his lieutenants. The Group of mechs followed over; representives of some of the most notable factions: Tetragrammaton, Watchmen, Subnova, Novus Tempus and, of course, the venerable crew of the onesimus. Zampano smiled as he realised the strength, the potential, before him

"d3ath, star, I want to lead the two teams. star, you will lead team delta, d3ath you will lead team foxtrot"

Zampano began as his mind filled with the tactical possibilities. His studies had taught him many things, the art of war was one that was backed with real experience. Soon the teams were assembled and briefed, primed for the onslaught ahead. Their task was to provide a rear guard, a solid wall of mechs to allow the zionites to recover the codes and escape before the mervs could enact their full retaliation. The codes, after all, had to be destroyed. If the merovingian got hold of them then his power would increase, something that neither machine or zion could live with. The machines had long been seeking a way to deliver a serious blow to the merovingian, this was one chance that they could not ignore. Zampano could see the confidence of his men growing with every passing second, soon adrenaline would fill their veins, push them into battle and to their very best.

The teams dispersed to their locations in Tabor, leaving Zampano alone for a few minutes. He slowly took a cigarette from the packet and lit it. His mind could not help but think back to the last time he commanded a force like this. It was a long time ago, and not within the matrix but upon the deserts of the real that his last command had been tested. Success, of course, but at what cost. Zampano hoped the cost of todays efforts would not be as dramatic as those of the past. He put his hand inside his coat and pulled out one of his Silver magnums, the silencer gleaming in the sunlight from the window, and placed it on the desk before him. He removed the second gun and lay it next to the other. This battle was going to be tough, he needed to compose himself before heading in. He stubbed the cigarette out in the ashtray and removed his coat, laying it over the chair. Slowly he moved to the centre of the room and closed his eyes, his breathing slowing, his senses becoming more acute than ever. Slowly his arms moved in Martial poses. the ancient art of Tai Chi, a deadly weapon but an equally relaxing form of mediatation. For some time he practised the postures and positions, focusing all his mind into the forthcoming conflict. Suddenly his phone rang. He relaxed oncemore, standing up straight and pulled the phone from his pocket.

"15 minutes Zamp, relay that to your teams" Gami said on the other end of the phone. Zampano closed the phone and grabbed his coat. he took each pistol and checked the clips, ensuring they were both fully loaded, before placing them back inside his trenchcoat. He walked calmy towards the door and began the walk to the target location.

* * *

"Go! Go! Go!" the call came over the comms.
The time was now, Zampano pulled out his pistols and began running towards the building. Beachhead, a late arrival, alongside him. he tapped his earpice as he ran "Delta, Foxtrot, Advance team is a go. Hold positions"
They reached the front entrance and stopped, pressed against the wall. With a split second of thought Zampano kicked the door open, guns readied before him for any guard. The lobby was clear. The sound of gunfire reverberated through the walls and ceiling. Quickly they made it to the elevator and began the ascent. As the doors slid open Zampano could sense an overwhelming force of merovingians ahead. He swept down the corridor, guns firing at the exile guards that blocked the path, before diving into the main room. As he knelt at the entrance he tapped the comms again
"Delta, Foxtrot, get in here now." He shouted over the noise.
The scene was confused and bloody. The merovingians had the zionites outnumbered and outgunned, the machines couldn't wait for them to grab the codes alone, they needed support now. Bullets were fllying in every direction, but Zampano could sense their movement in the air and quickly dodged them. Suddenly the window at the end of the room shattered inward, sending splinters of glass flying into the room, followed by two machine operatives, submachine guns blazing. Now the fight had been evened up a little. Zampano moved into the midst of battle, kicks flying in every direction. Soon he had eliminated three of the guards, for little injury. He turned as he reached the side of the room, but as he did was hit by a paralysing hack. "**bleep**" he thought as he tried to move. A call came over the comms

"Zamp, I'm down, get the codes, you got to get the codes" the comms crackled with static, but Zampano recognised Gami's voice. Zampano was being bombarded with hacks, soon he knew his RSI would collapse.
"D3ath, get the codes man, Gami is down and I'm not far behind" Zampano shouted into the comms, hoping that d3ath could hear him through the static. As he uttered his last words he fell down to the floor, concious but paralysed by the continuos hacks that had been placed on him.

As Adicia revived him he heard a call over the comms "We have the codes, everyone pull out" the shout came, and was repeated a few seconds later. Zampano could sense that many of his mechs had fallen, but those that where left would protect the rear
"Mechs, pull out and protect the rear" he shouted down the comms as bullets whizzed past his head. A yound merovingian operative attempted to grab him as he spoke, but Zampano easily dodged. His reflexes were far superior. With one swift kick to the merovingian operatives ribs, he dispatched him. As the last of the zionites ran, the mechs bagan their withdrawal. The mission had been a success it seemed, but at what cost.

Message Edited by Zampano1981 on 02-01-200607:35 AM

In the darkness of the real, in the depths of its waste and desecration, far beneath the scorched skies is a machine. It has been dormant for many years, hidden in the furthest reaches, frozen in time by the landscape, but now it is is time to awaken. For the Machine has many answers to the questions that drive the crew of the onesimus and these answers must be found so that the dream...the dream forged so long ago under the banner of the Oriens Veritas...the dream of peace under a sunlit sky, can one day become reality.

Zion had failed them, The merovingian was never to be trusted. Only the machines could now help them, and so they set off into the corners of the known world, searching for clues that would progress their goals. But they could not do this alone. They needed You.

((The Iquarus Project is to be a new Machine Faction, currently it is non-existant as there is only the onesimus. We are RPers and looking for like minded people to form a new faction with this in mind. Our goal, the onesimus goal, is the clearing of the skies. Our Current RP has us searching for the lost machine Iquarus who may hold valuable information about this. However, we have many other RPs running and welcome any one to partake in them. If your aims are radically different then this is not for you, if you stive for peace and coexistance with the machines then the possibility is endless. For Further information contact:

Zampano

Leelia

Ozzin

In game or via In game Email. Thanks for reading))

When the loading screen comes up it stops at loading character and progresses no further. This only happens for my main character (Zampano - Syntax Server), my other characters can load fine. I have tried deleting Zampano's profile but this doesn't appear to help. Level 49 and Zampano gets stubborn, grr. Any suggestions? greatly appreciated, thanks.

((posted again as it was on the old NR forum, so if you missed it the first time))

“Wake up you sonofabitch!”

Nick opened his eyes, the bright sunlight filtering through the dust covered window blinding him for a second. As his sight adjusted he looked up to see his disgustingly obese landlord standing over by the door. He yawned and was about to speak when the landlord butted in
“You heard me then? You know what day it is” he said, rubbing his fingers against his thumb to indicate he wanted money before reeling in a series of wheezing coughs.
“You’ll get your money Jones, just take a week or so”
“No good Nick, It’s today or your out. I warned you last time, if you ain’t got it then…”
He looked over at the complex computer system that sat on the desk by the window, the keyboard lost beneath piles of paper. Aside from a sofa and a battered old television set it was the only thing in the room. Even the floor was but a carpet of cracked wooden floorboards.
Nick quickly jumped up from the sofa “Touch that Jones, and you won’t live to regret it” he said threateningly. Jones was taken aback, nobody ever stood up to him…especially not those that owed him two months rent. He looked at his tenant and for the first time he saw a man. He had always viewed his tenants as money, not people. Nick wasn’t a muscular man, but he was strong. Jones looked worried for a second, knowing that in his condition he stood no chance of taking him down if it came to it.
“Ok, Ok, you’ve got three more days” He said reluctantly “But if you don’t have it then, I’ll take your legs” He added in an attempt to hide the fact he was scared.
Nick Smiled
“Thanks Jones….Now if you don’t mind” he motioned Jones toward the door as he began to walk to the bathroom. As he stood over the sink, gazing into the shattered mirror, he heard the front door slam shut.
He sighed “And my name is Zampano”

He turned the faucet and splashed cool, refreshing water over his face. It didn’t help his hangover. Monday nights at Club Messiah were the worst; he couldn’t remember how many Whiskies he had knocked back but that was a sign that it was too many. Every Monday he drifted into the club after work, hoping to find answers but usually finding nothing but the bottom of a glass.
He went back into the front room and glanced over at the computer as it searched through the endless pages of the Internet. Searching for answers to the questions that had plagued Zampano for so long. As he looked at the screen he noticed the time. 09:13 “**bleep**” he uttered as he realised he had missed the tube downtown. Quickly he grabbed his coat from the rack and dashed out of the door.

* * * * * *

It started to rain as he left the taxi that had carried him from his apartment in Tabor to the crowded streets of Chelsea. He still had quite a walk to the Library where he had worked for the last few years. It wasn’t a bad job, the work was easy and it gave him plenty of time to peruse the countless manuscripts that lined the many shelves. He must have read over half the books in there yet there were still some he wanted to get his hands on; The Librarian’s Private Archive. The Librarian, as he was always known, was a powerful man in the city. He was a great source of information for the many businessmen, politicians and officials that came to his doors. While he lacked the ruthlessness of businessmen he wielded a greater weapon; Knowledge. High up in the library, sealed from prying eyes, was his office and his archive. Zampano knew that somewhere in those ancient tomes lay the truth; the truth that most did not seek but a few dedicated their lives to finding.
He had forgotten the rain as he walked quickly along the pavement through the masses of people flocking here and there. Yet something else caught his eye as he turned the corner of 49th street. High above, on a building across the road, stood a figure, dark and threatening against the grey skies. He was merely stood there, watching, watching the Library. As Zampano stared a chill went down his spine; for a moment their eyes had met and Zampano had felt a connection. A connection that he did not understand but somehow knew was there. Then in a moment the figure disappeared leaving Zampano gazing at the clouds. As he reached the Grand Entrance to the library the figure still beleaguered his mind.
“Who was he?”
“Why was he watching the Library?”
Even more questions had know laid siege to Zampano’s mind.

* * * * * *
As the clock tortuously displayed the passing of another hour Zampano sighed. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy his job, it was just that he felt there was something more…some greater destiny for him. He looked around at his colleagues that sat parallel to him on nearly identical desks. They were all working hard on meaningless tasks; Collating bibliographies, organising registrations, tracking down overdue books. A long time ago Zampano had been the same, an unthinking workhorse, but now he was different. The change had started when his father died. Well, Zampano had assumed he died, in reality he had simply disappeared. The strange thing was that Zampano’s father had been bed-ridden for years, the victim of some “unknown virus” as the doctors report had stated. Yet one winters morning he had just gone. Zampano had asked the nurse that had been with him all night but she was as bewildered as him. Zampano never saw the nurse again after that, he had tried to find her but the Hospital had told him that she had been transferred overseas. It was that event that changed his life and set him on a new path. He had started with one question “Where is my father?” but it soon became many as he learned new truths and riddles. Deeper into the rabbit hole he fell until there was nothing else left. Now Zampano could feel the darkness closing in around him. It was nearly the end, he could not go on much longer with his questions unanswered. He had made the decision, the deadline, a long time ago and it was nearly upon him.
He glanced at the clock again. It was nearly lunch time. He stood up, grabbing the teacup that sat empty on the desk. Slowly he made his way to the canteen, past the familiar surroundings and stacks of un-shelved books. He gripped the cold metal handle of the door and was about to open it when there came a noise. A screaming Siren suddenly resonated through the building.
“Goddam fire alarm” Zampano thought as he began walking back to the other side of the office where the exit lay.
Another sound reverberated through the building…an explosion…a crash. Zampano stopped as he reached the stairs, the sound had come from above…high above…from the sealed floor of the Librarian. With only a seconds hesitation Zampano took the stairs up to the forbidden floor where he hoped his answers lay.

The Councillor’s Call ((this is a story based on the relationship between Zampano and Councillor Trey of the Zion Council, if you haven't seen the backstory then its on the General NR thread, if it still exists. Or on the Oriens Veritas website. Small event planned for this evening.))

A Conspiracy Revealed

The phone calls hadn’t stopped all morning, every one the same; No ID, no answer when picked up. Zampano was getting annoyed at the distraction, he picked up the phone and was about to throw it into the waters when it rang again.

“Goddamit” he muttered before answering, for a moment there was nothing but silence. He was about to hang up when he heard someone’s breath, rapid and nervous on the other end

“Hello? Who is this?” he asked into the phone, but there was no answer. Suddenly the line cut off. He slid the phone back into his pocket and glanced at the time, it was nearly dawn, nearly time for the meeting with his mentor. For so long Trey had been silent, Zampano had thought that the new allegiance to the Machines had been the cause but it was unlike Trey not to communicate with him at all. Slowly he turned from the waters edge and began to walk towards the hardline.

* * * * * *

“Marcus, make sure the area is clear. Do a sweep for any exiles.”

“Sure Zamp…..ooook, nothing major, a few low life gang kids but nothing from the major leagues”

Zampano tossed his fedora on to the stand that stood in the corner of the entranceway to the familiar club. He had never been here this early in the morning, but little was different, the familiar throbbing music, the smell of beer and smoke. He took out a cigarette and struck a match along the wall, before igniting the cancer stick and inhaling its coded fumes. He made his way down the stairs, sensing a familiar presence nearby in the club. He walked towards the bar, towards the aged councillor, and sat down on a stool. The councillor did not notice him at first, his senses dulled by the many years he had spent outside the matrix, but with the turn of his head he smiled.

“Zampano! I did not see you come in…it is good to see you” he greeted, standing to shake Zampano’s hand.

Zampano smiled back “It is good to see you as well Councillor”

“No need for formalities Zampano, to you it has always been Trey”

Zamp nodded at the barman, he was almost a regular here so the barman knew his drink, Whisky on the rocks, best code in the matrix. Trey laughed as he saw the glass slide to Zampano

“I see you’re still on the whisky then.” He said as he picked up his own glass full of rum.

Zampano took a sip, the smile diminishing on his face. “I told you not to meet me here. It’s too dangerous trey. You know if the Librarian finds out then you’ll end up in a wooden box back to Zion.”

“I came here for a reason Zampano, if the reason did not justify the risk then I would not be here” Trey answered in his usual philosophical tone

“and the reason?” Zampano asked, eager to understand the risk Trey was taking.

“I’ll come to that, but lets catch up for a moment first shall we? So your working for mr mech now?”

Zampano nodded, “We do what we must to reach our goals”

The two spoke at length for sometime, laughing and joking with each other about the deeds and events that had befallen Zampano since their last contact. As the midday sun crept over the club the atmosphere turned back to business….

“Zampano, I need your help” Trey said sternly

“What is it? You can always rely on me” Zampano replied

“I need….” Trey paused, taking another sip of the rum, for courage, before answering “I need you to remove someone for me”

“Remove? You mean kill?” Zampano quizzed him

“Yes”

For a moment Zampano was silent, considering the implications of his possible responses.

“Who?”

Trey smiled “A young exile by the name of Delial, she works for the librarian and has been looking into my past, looking for a weakness to bring me down”

“You want me to kill a bluepill? Could you not handle this through Commander Lock and Tyndall?”

Trey laughed “This matter is rather sensitive, I could not risk them being involved. I need you to do this for me old friend”

Zampano frowned, something wasn’t right. Trey’s laugh had been a nervous one, his pulse was quickened and his eyes avoided Zampano. Despite his doubts, Zampano knew Trey was lying to him. Suddenly his phone rang again, he opened it up and held it to his ear. Trey eyes opened wide, as if he were scared of what may lay on the other end of the phone.

“Zampano?” A voice whispered

“Yes” Zampano replied, careful not to reveal any details of the conversation to Trey

“This is Delial” the voice whispered again “I need to meet you, I have something for you”

“I see. Call me back in half an hour. I am a little busy at the moment” Zampano said cautiously before placing the phone back in his pocket. Trey was tense, his fingers gripping the glass rigidly.

“who was that?” he asked, trying to hide his nervousness but failing. He had forgotten the acuteness of Zampano’s senses.

“Agent Gray” Zampano lied, hoping to get a reaction from the man that sat next to him. Trey relaxed “oh, that’s good Anyway as I was saying….”

“As you were lying you mean” Zampano interrupted, his voice annoyed and stern.

“lying Zamp? I would never lie to…”

Zampano turned his head to trey “When were you reduced to this Trey? To lying to me for your own purposes?”

Trey lowered his head, before raising it again with a maniacal smirk on his face, he laughed “Reduced? What point is there to seeing when all you see is a lie…remember that Zampano? You have never known truth.”

Zampano stood up, angered by the sudden change in the man before him…or perhaps it wasn’t sudden. Perhaps now Zampano could see trey for who he really was, now that his senses were at their greatest, his perception had changed but Trey had always been the same.

“I will not help you, not if you continue with this. I will not play your games” Zampano said coldly

Trey smirked “Games, an apt word my boy. You have long been a part of the game, it seems now that the pawn rebels against its king” Trey stood up taking a pistol out of his pocket and pointing it at Zampano “You will help me”

“Again you underestimate me” Zampano replied, his hand grabbing Trey’s wrist and taking the gun from him before tossing it to the other side of the room. “Goodbye Trey”

Trey growled, his face twisted in anger. “You’ll help me Zampano or you will die, I will make certain of that. I have men on the surface that will destroy the onesismus”

Zampano’s mind raced “hit squads” he muttered “You? You sent those men after the Moriai?”

Trey did not answer, he merely smirked. Zampano turned towards the stairs “I don’t know you anymore. Do not contact me again” he said coldly, though the emotion showed as a tear rolled down his cheek from behind his shades.

Trey threw the glass across the room but Zampano easily dodged it

“Then you will die, as will that **bleep** Delial. You cannot change the rules of the game Zampano, you cannot call checkmate…only I get to do that!”

Zampano left without turning his head back, the tears continuing to roll over his cheek. He wiped the tears away and picked up his phone. “Marcus get me out of here”

Greetings Redpills,

I am Zampano, Chief science Officer of the Onesismus. Times have hit us hard and now we stand alone in our goals. The Oriens Veritas is no more, The Coma Solaris has dissipated and now only the Onesismus strives on to reach their aims.

The path is long and full of peril and danger, we have many friends but many enemies too. If we are ever to make progress in clearing the skies then we need you. All redpills are welcome to apply to join the Sismus and take the road of science and exploration with our noble crew. We will help you reach your goals and progress in a world that is full of hostility, if you can help us reach ours.

The crew manifest of the Onesismus;

Leelia- Captain

Ozzin- First mate and Chief Engineer

Zampano- First Lieutenant and Chief Science Officer

Anasir- Recruit

Telzen- Recruit

Marcus- Freeborn Operator

If you would like a place among this crew then please send a tell to Leelia, Ozzin or myself. We hope to see you soon.

((OOC: We are an RP ship and have a wide variety of RP contacts across the matrix. We are looking for anyone, though some female crew members would be nice to balance out the ship. We are currently Zionites however this may change at times to reflect our need to explore and find new technology, so be prepared to change allegiances. The officers on the ship are all lvl40+ but we will take on any level. Also we are predominantly Europeans and would like more europeans as it fits with the times we are on. thanks, hope to hear from some of you soon))

Message Edited by Zampano1981 on 10-07-2005 08:21 AM

or prophet duster. The full body ones. So if anyone can code them or has one I'd be more than happy to trade or pay a reasonable price. Contact me in game...name: Zampano

Thanks

Message Edited by Zampano1981 on 10-06-2005 05:10 PM

Cinematic 2.3 introduces The General, he seems to be the leader of a group of soldiers within the matrix but they are not aligned with any organisation as of yet. They are the ones dropping the leaflets and flying the helicopters.

One of the soldiers states "some think the one will return"

and then "have you decided which organisation we will help?"

The general "that will depend on who most needs us"

The final shot see's the "do not trust the frenchman leaflet"

(quotes may not be 100% accurate but they are along those lines)