League of Mechanocracies 2.0 [Sign-ups/OOC/OPEN]

[Gigaverse]

Done and done. Everything's fine, culture and the domestic economy are hitting new highs, atomic energy and space travel are revolutionizing every field of life and society, and... What's that? The US has no allies, everything's going to hell just a hop over The Pond, and the economy is predicted to crash within the decade?

Oh.

At our current rate of economic, social, and technological progress, nothing seems wrong!

...

"Religion is banned"

I beg to differ.

[Vistora]

Fucking... What I want to do to you right now would get the mods over here in two seconds flat for breaking the PG-13 rule by about two rating levels, and that's just if I were to describe it.

*smugness intensifies*

[Gigaverse]

Fucking... What I want to do to you right now would get the mods over here in two seconds flat for breaking the PG-13 rule by about two rating levels, and that's just if I were to describe it.

Someone here has an intense adoration for jellyfishes.

[Calamity Tiger]

Jellyfish-Chan is not amused.

[The Great Devourer of All]

Fucking... What I want to do to you right now would get the mods over here in two seconds flat for breaking the PG-13 rule by about two rating levels, and that's just if I were to describe it.

Someone here has an intense adoration for jellyfishes.

I see you've been following the thread very closely so far.

And yes, Blak, I was joking, and I'm sorry if it didn't seem that way. I don't actually care if you guys post pictures of cooked jellyfish. It won't be my fault when you go to Jellyfish Hell.

[Vistora]

Someone here has an intense adoration for jellyfishes.

I see you've been following the thread very closely so far.

And yes, Blak, I was joking, and I'm sorry if it didn't seem that way. I don't actually care if you guys post pictures of cooked jellyfish. It won't be my fault when you go to Jellyfish Hell.

*smugness intensifies further*

[The Great Devourer of All]

I see you've been following the thread very closely so far.

And yes, Blak, I was joking, and I'm sorry if it didn't seem that way. I don't actually care if you guys post pictures of cooked jellyfish. It won't be my fault when you go to Jellyfish Hell.

*smugness intensifies further*

Dear God Great Devourer, need I write a factbook about the Eldritch Brain to end this heresy?

[Blakullar]

And yes, Blak, I was joking, and I'm sorry if it didn't seem that way. I don't actually care if you guys post pictures of cooked jellyfish. It won't be my fault when you go to Jellyfish Hell.

Alright. I figured it was probably a joke, even though the way it was put seemed very hostile. Just making sure that there isn't any bad blood.

[The Great Devourer of All]

And yes, Blak, I was joking, and I'm sorry if it didn't seem that way. I don't actually care if you guys post pictures of cooked jellyfish. It won't be my fault when you go to Jellyfish Hell.

Alright. I figured it was probably a joke, even though the way it was put seemed very hostile. Just making sure that there isn't any bad blood.

Well duh, my efforts would be wasted on attacking random people who posted some images on the internet that I don't like. It'd be much more effective to just kill anyone who ever kills, harms, cooks, eats, or originally posts pictures of someone else cooking, eating, killing, or harming jellyfish. Problem solved, a world-spanning jellyfish-based media-censoring dictatorship is now in place.

[Vistora]

*smugness intensifies further*

Dear God Great Devourer, need I write a factbook about the Eldritch Brain to end this heresy?

Pls no hab mercy





Just kidding

*smugness multiplied tenfold*

[The Great Devourer of All]

Dear God Great Devourer, need I write a factbook about the Eldritch Brain to end this heresy?

Pls no hab mercy





Just kidding

*smugness multiplied tenfold*

I'm going in.

[Multiversal Venn-Copard]

*smugness intensifies further*

Dear God Great Devourer Hyperspacial AI Overlord, need I write a factbook about the Eldritch Brain to end this heresy?

Fixed. VCMR god is best god.

[The Great Devourer of All]

Dear God Great Devourer Hyperspacial AI Overlord, need I write a factbook about the Eldritch Brain to end this heresy?

Fixed. VCMR god is best god.

Nope. Self-Replicating Multiversal Jellyfish God is best god.

[The Great Devourer of All]

Published it. Enjoy, and stop der heresy.

[Vistora]

Published it. Enjoy, and stop der heresy.

"Alright, let's see what fresh travesty he's cooked up this time."

"In the year 7971, a living, sapient, star known as the Vengeful Sun went on a rampage through the Milky Way Galaxy."

"Okay, that's enough for me for today. I'm done."

[Aterria]

Published it. Enjoy, and stop der heresy.

"Alright, let's see what fresh travesty he's cooked up this time."

"In the year 7971, a living, sapient, star known as the Vengeful Sun went on a rampage through the Milky Way Galaxy."

"Okay, that's enough for me for today. I'm done."

I read the whole thing. Now I'm like "whot?"

[The Great Devourer of All]

"Alright, let's see what fresh travesty he's cooked up this time."

"In the year 7971, a living, sapient, star known as the Vengeful Sun went on a rampage through the Milky Way Galaxy."

"Okay, that's enough for me for today. I'm done."

I read the whole thing. Now I'm like "whot?"

Yep. First Empire, R.I.P. 7971-8042. Second Empire born c.a. 13.8 billion B.C.E, D.O.D unknown.

It was intentionally mind-boggling, although I admit the quality of writing is somewhat low.

[Cyborgs and Sentient Machines]

Published it. Enjoy, and stop der heresy.

A living sun wtf?

[Cumberlanda]

Fixed. VCMR god is best god.

Nope. Self-Replicating Multiversal Jellyfish God is best god.

Piss God>all

fight me skrubs

[Singaporean Transhumans]

Nope. Self-Replicating Multiversal Jellyfish God is best god.

Piss God>all

fight me skrubs

Gaben is supreme

1 like = 1 steam sale

[Novum Alexandria]

You’re on your feet, sweating enough to douse a mild inferno. The pounding thrum of bass saturates the air, accompanied by a choir of voices chanting breathlessly in an Arceii dialect that was too thick to understand without a translation program running in primary. The sounds that shook the walls of the building were tuned to the most primal urges in man, a competition in auditory conditioning that had lasted a millenia driving the quality of the club sound to a peak. It was near formulaic, now. A mathematical science. Though some might argue that Alexandrians had run out of ideas, that their work lacked originality, the reality of the situation saw that the art of clubbing had been refined down to a blade so sharp it pierced your skin and mind painlessly. A wide array of meager cutting tools had been whittled down to a few appropriate scalpels. And poignant they were, drawing animalistic behaviors to the surface that tens of thousands of years of social evolution had tried tirelessly to bury. Fireworks of dopamine crowded the brain, just as patrons crowded this den.

You’re moving, writhing, contorting shamelessly, pressed up against a rather dramatic example of the boundless possibilities of Alexandrian cosmetic adaptations. She (he? It?) seemed to be enjoying herself, a primal, foreign grin upon her face, iridescent cerulean scales gleaming like a school of minnows caught in the tumult of the surf. A crimson braid of hair swung to the beat, and her emerald eyes were fixed upon you, intently, examining you like a predator would prey. Nothing about her was natural, but it blended seamlessly enough that you didn't complain. The way she was moving pinned her as a Luxite. Some immeasurable grace tinged even the most clumsy of movements. Or maybe you were letting the pills speak for you. Everyone was taking them, but it was causing difficulties with the neural mesh.

Piss God>all

fight me skrubs

Gaben is supreme

1 like = 1 steam sale

>not being godless heathens
religious zealots go home

[Blakullar]

You’re on your feet, sweating enough to douse a mild inferno. The pounding thrum of bass saturates the air, accompanied by a choir of voices chanting breathlessly in an Arceii dialect that was too thick to understand without a translation program running in primary. The sounds that shook the walls of the building were tuned to the most primal urges in man, a competition in auditory conditioning that had lasted a millenia driving the quality of the club sound to a peak. It was near formulaic, now. A mathematical science. Though some might argue that Alexandrians had run out of ideas, that their work lacked originality, the reality of the situation saw that the art of clubbing had been refined down to a blade so sharp it pierced your skin and mind painlessly. A wide array of meager cutting tools had been whittled down to a few appropriate scalpels. And poignant they were, drawing animalistic behaviors to the surface that tens of thousands of years of social evolution had tried tirelessly to bury. Fireworks of dopamine crowded the brain, just as patrons crowded this den.

You’re moving, writhing, contorting shamelessly, pressed up against a rather dramatic example of the boundless possibilities of Alexandrian cosmetic adaptations. She (he? It?) seemed to be enjoying herself, a primal, foreign grin upon her face, iridescent cerulean scales gleaming like a school of minnows caught in the tumult of the surf. A crimson braid of hair swung to the beat, and her emerald eyes were fixed upon you, intently, examining you like a predator would prey. Nothing about her was natural, but it blended seamlessly enough that you didn't complain. The way she was moving pinned her as a Luxite. Some immeasurable grace tinged even the most clumsy of movements. Or maybe you were letting the pills speak for you. Everyone was taking them, but it was causing difficulties with the neural mesh.

"YEEEEAAAAH! Take that, Space Cobras!" the gangsters in the main room roared in jubilation as Hammer's Slammers, the blitzball team they were supporting, scored another goal.

An instant later, they all flinched as a gunshot went off just behind them. The screen exploded in a shower of sparks, flickered and died, cracked around a bullet hole in the middle. Next moment, the coffee table their beers and ashtray stood on was kicked over by a furious Flannery with a smoking auto-pistol in her hand.

"GET UP, YOU WORTHLESS LAZY PIECES OF WOGGO SHIT!!!" she shrieked in berserk rage, "While you were slacking off here, a Sidh Judicator came and walked right into my office, A GODDAMNED MOTHERFUCKING JUDICATOR, and not one of you incompetent clowns noticed him or bothered to tell me even if you did!!! No, I had to find it out for myself, find that insolent fuck sitting AT MY FUCKING DESK!!! Well, playtime's over for a long time for the lot of you! GET TO YOUR POSTS, NOW!!! And bring me everyone who is currently on watch, I am going to flay their feet and make them eat the skin with my own hands!"

The gangsters scattered out of the room faster than cockroaches, knowing full-well what would happen to those who would further provoke their volatile boss in such a mood.

(Context = she's literally female Trevor Phillips in charge of basically the Blackshirts if they went down the path of organised crime.)

Anyway, Flying Spaghetti Monster is best god.

[Vistora]

You’re on your feet, sweating enough to douse a mild inferno. The pounding thrum of bass saturates the air, accompanied by a choir of voices chanting breathlessly in an Arceii dialect that was too thick to understand without a translation program running in primary. The sounds that shook the walls of the building were tuned to the most primal urges in man, a competition in auditory conditioning that had lasted a millenia driving the quality of the club sound to a peak. It was near formulaic, now. A mathematical science. Though some might argue that Alexandrians had run out of ideas, that their work lacked originality, the reality of the situation saw that the art of clubbing had been refined down to a blade so sharp it pierced your skin and mind painlessly. A wide array of meager cutting tools had been whittled down to a few appropriate scalpels. And poignant they were, drawing animalistic behaviors to the surface that tens of thousands of years of social evolution had tried tirelessly to bury. Fireworks of dopamine crowded the brain, just as patrons crowded this den.

You’re moving, writhing, contorting shamelessly, pressed up against a rather dramatic example of the boundless possibilities of Alexandrian cosmetic adaptations. She (he? It?) seemed to be enjoying herself, a primal, foreign grin upon her face, iridescent cerulean scales gleaming like a school of minnows caught in the tumult of the surf. A crimson braid of hair swung to the beat, and her emerald eyes were fixed upon you, intently, examining you like a predator would prey. Nothing about her was natural, but it blended seamlessly enough that you didn't complain. The way she was moving pinned her as a Luxite. Some immeasurable grace tinged even the most clumsy of movements. Or maybe you were letting the pills speak for you. Everyone was taking them, but it was causing difficulties with the neural mesh.

"YEEEEAAAAH! Take that, Space Cobras!" the gangsters in the main room roared in jubilation as Hammer's Slammers, the blitzball team they were supporting, scored another goal.

An instant later, they all flinched as a gunshot went off just behind them. The screen exploded in a shower of sparks, flickered and died, cracked around a bullet hole in the middle. Next moment, the coffee table their beers and ashtray stood on was kicked over by a furious Flannery with a smoking auto-pistol in her hand.

"GET UP, YOU WORTHLESS LAZY PIECES OF WOGGO SHIT!!!" she shrieked in berserk rage, "While you were slacking off here, a Sidh Judicator came and walked right into my office, A GODDAMNED MOTHERFUCKING JUDICATOR, and not one of you incompetent clowns noticed him or bothered to tell me even if you did!!! No, I had to find it out for myself, find that insolent fuck sitting AT MY FUCKING DESK!!! Well, playtime's over for a long time for the lot of you! GET TO YOUR POSTS, NOW!!! And bring me everyone who is currently on watch, I am going to flay their feet and make them eat the skin with my own hands!"

The gangsters scattered out of the room faster than cockroaches, knowing full-well what would happen to those who would further provoke their volatile boss in such a mood.

(Context = she's literally female Trevor Phillips in charge of basically the Blackshirts if they went down the path of organised crime.)

Anyway, Flying Spaghetti Monster is best god.

That is what I used to believe, dear naïve child, until I discovered the gospel of Lord Jibbers.

[Novum Alexandria]

(Context = she's literally female Trevor Phillips in charge of basically the Blackshirts if they went down the path of organised crime.)

Anyway, Flying Spaghetti Monster is best god.

That is what I used to believe, dear naïve child, until I discovered the gospel of Lord Jibbers.

"Nothing this horrible could be created by nature"
Best case I've ever heard, tbh

[Vistora]

That is what I used to believe, dear naïve child, until I discovered the gospel of Lord Jibbers.

"Nothing this horrible could be created by nature"
Best case I've ever heard, tbh

"This is an eight legged vagina that gives you boners until you are DEAD."

I fucking love the Oatmeal.