I mean, B12 is like an oasis in the wild west.
It is the 2nd Millennium. For more than a decade The Toad has sat immobile on the Golden Office Chair of Washington State. He is the Master of Bay 12 by the will of the internet, and master of a million bytes by the might of his inexhaustible coding. He is a restless mathematician writhing invisibly with power from the Modern Age of Technology. He is the Amphibian Lord of the Twelfth Bay for whom a thousand suggestions are sacrificed every day, so that he may never truly sleep.
Yet even in his sleepless state, the Toad continues his eternal vigilance. Mighty threads cross the bot-infested remnants of Various Nonsense, the only route between the distant boards, their way lit by the Forum Guidelines, the digital manifestation of the Toad's will. Vast usergroups give discussion in his name on uncounted sites. Greatest amongst his users are the Lower Forumites, the Bay Watchers, socially abnormal angry debators. Their comrades in arms are legion: the Upper Forumites and countless Escaped Lunatics, the ever vigilant ThreeToe and the mafia aficionados of the Forum Gamers to name only a few. But for all their multitudes, they are barely enough to completely ignore the nonexistant threat from trolls, heretics, spammers - and worse.
To be a Bay Watcher in such times is to be one amongst untold hundreds. It is to post in the cruelest and most hilarious network imaginable. These are the tales of those times. Forget the power of scripted events and 3D graphics, for so much has been discarded, never to be retried. Forget the promise of cell shading and multiplayer, for in the moderate dimness of the here and now there is only Dwarf Fortress. There is no peace amongst the Bay, only an eternity of carnage and slaughter, and the laughter of thirsting Watchers."
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Topic: [MILK] There were 12 eggs here what did you do with them? (Happy thread?!) (Read 16242339 times)