Avatar of ArenaSnow
  • Last Seen: 3 yrs ago
  • Joined: 9 yrs ago
  • Posts: 6501 (1.89 / day)
  • VMs: 13
  • Username history
    1. ArenaSnow 9 yrs ago

Status

Recent Statuses

6 yrs ago
Current Seeya next week, Guild. Signing off.
1 like
6 yrs ago
Merry Christmas
2 likes
6 yrs ago
Elder Scrolls RP, now with the Creation Club!
2 likes
6 yrs ago
It's happening again. I have been visited by a soviet mad scientist, a king, a penguin prince of darkness, a house plant god thing, a mystical ancient member, a tired reaper (thank god) + a greeting.
6 likes
6 yrs ago
For the same reason Rome 2 was attacked by thousands of players who don't know what they're talking about. lleeeeeeemmmmings
2 likes

Bio

Whattr' you stairin' at.

Most Recent Posts

Welcome :)
Me, myself: Just an effing bird, what more need be said except a rather high pitched "WELCOME!" ?
The Story So Far...

Barnaby was a man with sleeping problems who had an excess of coffee and and clothing. He dreamed and dreamed, and one day found a job: a hit job. Accepting the job from his cheapskate uncle, he ventured into the world with a sword to take down a man named Mustermann, delayed a short time by a few bloody cops looking to see his sword license. He was offered a prize for his sword by a shadowy figure, an effort rewarded by his being cleaved in half and turning into a badass sword that was cursed with the inability to drink hot liquids Barnaby wouldn't bother drinking in the first place.

He went after Mustermann's cellar, to be intercepted by dogs, cats, and pretty fucking weird imps that turned out to be an illusion. He was instead met with cultists from the cult of Harambe, resulting in his discovery of a thing he had no idea existed called Twitter so he could tweet with an unnatural skill and-

Wake up the next morning to his own words of "Get this shit out of my spam" before discovering he was in a mental asylum surrounded by mysterious voices preparing to sacrifice him to... Harambe, the unjustness of which he raved against before realizing the existence of the Fourth Wall, or rather, its destruction, which threw his universe so out of order he lost faith in all existence and began to see the true reality, confronted with the strange visual of... was it.... a-


Huge pink fluffy dog that pinned him down to a soft white bed while seemingly ripping his face off with a scratchy, almost cat like tongue.
Well well well, guess what popped out of my wordpad doc...

Tell me if I left ___ anywhere, have a lore inconsistency after a few dozen revisions this evening alone, or if I need to clarify something after pressing the "F it I just want to get this done in the 21st century" button on it...



Yes, I know, he's pilotless. I'll let autopilot do it. If mech pilots in that tournament are as smart as the average human being on earth, it might actually win a match or two. I shall spare that headache for tomorrow.
The mech may yet appear tonight. No promises on the pilot and the mech will probably need polishing still, just want the concept out in the wild...
Barnaby realizes life is all an illusion, and suddenly looks at himself: a sorry collection of pixels beaten and bruised by a half dozen or so internet sadists.


Little guy's the box.
You know what I love about fixing things?

The fact I get to break it when it's done.
Barnaby stared in horror at the crumbling ruins of the Fourth Wall.
Granted, but it reversed direction and hit you on the nose.

I want an LBX-Cannon-barrel job.
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