Tiridates Mikadze

I believed that mushrooms would make me grow big. I thought that the epitome of manhood was rescuing princesses. I believed there were real Ninjas in my city.

I didn't say that. How dare he put words in my mouth.

I quite like this. It's like Vogon Poetry night.

I propose a new kind of waffle: the Waffle Ball. Spherical! Hollow! JUST AS GOOD AS THE ORIGINAL, JUST ROUNDER!

All it should take is a single rocket barrage from a Venerator, or a Pilum to take it down. Silly RoG :(.

I know how to create a variety of fun "home chemistry experiments" ranging from thermite (<3) to 'boomers' which utilize the energetic expansion of gasses to make an awful lot of noise. I also can make snares and traps starting only with my knife to make the materials. God, I miss boy-scouts :(

Uh, Frumentarii needs... spinny tonfa/sword death blades of awesome. For the high ranking officers, you know. In a pair. With custome animations and ao. ...Just saying.

*spits out his tea in shock* I say! Surely this man must be joking! Those scoundrels have a thing or two coming them, you can be assured of that! Why, in my day, when we were fighting the Zulu, we didn't take any of this dilly-dallying and nonsense, not at all! Officers were the cream of breeding, the top of the social ladder, the best and richest of the Empire, and we were Gentlemen each, none of this peasantry running about and wagging their tongues as if they could run things for themselves. No, in my day, we would have taken this seditious little wog and beaten him into a proper fear of authority and elaborate waxed facial hair. ~ Lt. Colonel Sir Willis Smythe Busybody Turning, Knight of the Basquettecase Court.

Enough of this, you lot are being silly. Clear out, you lot, right, get out. GET OUT.

A wise suggestion.

Gepard M4 <3 Also, yeah, let's do the F2000, but the Tavor needs it more than ever.

We don't need to give them a notecard, nor cater to their egos. It is stated explicitly in our Sim Covenant that all requests made by Ordo Personnel are to be followed by any visitors without hesitation, or face consequences that may include ejection, being shot, or bans. If they don't like it, we have no inherent obligation to explain it to them more than we have already.

Have the bombs invite them over for tea and sandwiches, discuss politics, and when the bomb makes a careful and respectful disagreement with their position on the Sub-continent and Rhodesia, it explodes quietly, so as not to disturb the cat, or the tea service being held by Asheem, the bomb's loyal Ghurka butler and friend, who's life it saved during the uprising in Mangrapor in '85, and served faithfully earlier still in suppressing the Zulus.

I thought Gunau attaching miniguns to every point on his body and attacking the next hostile that came in was pretty close to Artemis. All he had to do to fulfill the role was to be dropped from orbit onto the unsuspecting target while firing full blaze all the way down. But seriously, don't shoot at someone until you know you can kill them. For example, if a guy is hiding behind a hill, and you cannot see his little noggin poking out, don't fire at the hill mindlessly unless provided permission to lay down suppressive fire. Some little ION twit ambling up a hill and then seeing the wrath of god explode 8 meters ahead of him on the ridge he was struttin' his stuff to kind of sends a message of "We're psychotic bloodthirsty monsters <3" instead of "We're professional, ruthlessly efficient monsters who don't waste shots <3". I'd be completely dissuaded from attacking anywhere that deems every threat as warranting the instant deployment of the flaming hot piss of God raining down inches from its face, before any hostiles have even gotten into range of the effective sphere of the explosives that shower the terrain, or the wall of bullets pounding into the mountain they're standing behind. I mean, in all honesty, we don't need six miniguns, four charged adjudicators, nine grenades, three artillery shells, two Pilums, a rocket barrage, flak rounds, and a tidal wave of standard semi-auto and automatic small arms fire pounding into a target to take it down*, especially if the target can't even be hit by any of it until they show their face in the crosshairs. *Unless it's either Nanao setting his sights on a playground, or Kanaki persuing a buffet.

I miss Artemis 3:

Well, in my Family, we drag each other off with black bags over our heads in the back of non-desrcript white utility vans with dual sliding doors and tinted windows <3

Go back to bed, Gunau.

Just to be clear, joining is not a "Frumentarii Jr.Scout Club" membership in anyway, shape, or form. But you might get decoder rings.

I am utterly repulsed that you believe that I require vulgar methods of bolstering my ceaseless pontifications. I've been expounding aimlessly for years, my lad, and I'll continue to do so without your insinuations of falsified bombastic expansion via crutches and embellishments to my vocabulary. GOOD DAY, SIR.

While some would deem Cyphre's statement as being possibly pretentious, boisterous, bellicose, or even pompous in it's verbosity and the sheer span of it to imply so simple a thing, I would beg to disagree. It is a most eloquent diatribe against a deserving troglodyte, one, who, in being so primitive and recalcitrant in his methods, words, and deeds, so eager to be easily classified as being truly an Antediluvian savage of the lowest order, a primordial barbarian so bereft of grace, education, and gentlemanly bearing as to leave in my person a faint nausea simply from the contemplation of so base a cur, so low a worm, the most heinous example of fallen humanity that has dared smear it's taint across the canvas of cyberspace and the material plane. Cyphre's poison pen poetry, while undoubtedly sharp, still paints a vivid and apt portrait of a creature who's loathsome nature and manners makes even maggots gag, and demonstrates her admirable qualities and virtues, by presenting to the refined textual pallet a smorgasbord that revels in the depth of her understanding, her breadth of reading, and the sharp mind that brings to focus the high qualities that only providence can endow. In short, he is the racing stripe on the underwear of the internets, and I want to marry Cyphre.

The first step in addressing a problem is admitting you have a problem. *hands you a leaflet* We meet in the basement of the United Methodist Church at the corner of Williams and 23rd every Thursday at 7:00 pm. We have free coffee and donuts, and lots of support to help you out.

To offer one's loyalty, to serve, and to see the wicked crushed under the heels of greatness. Is there no sweeter thing in life? But in all honesty, I know it looks like a lot of our builders jump rungs on the ladder like crazy, but there's far more to it than that, as Aryte pointed out. That said, I do look dashing in my lovely black uniform and cape.

I love the GooglePlex. I love the GooglePlex. The only hope is with the open source community.... *blam*

HIS DUALISM DEATH THINKING LEADS TO DIVISION OF LIFE THIS IS THE ACADEMIC ANDROID EVIL OF YOUR STUPID SCIENTISTS

Well said. Also, I am Dr. Gene Ray <3 We all know that I'm after Hubbard's Head.