â„–16854537[Quote]
do this the site's so boring now yawwnnnnn
â„–16854546[Quote]
>>16854529 (OP)At this point, yes.
When even oldGODS start being treated like lurkers, you know the site has come to shit
â„–16854583[Quote]
It is 2030. For more than five years Quote has sat immobile on the IRC of the ‘arty. He is the Master of Soykind by the will of the ‘cuck, and master of a million jaks by the might of his inexhaustible armies. He is a rotting carcass writhing invisibly with power from the Dark Age of /qa/. He is the Carrion Lord of the Soysphere for whom a thousand cacas are groomed every day, so that he may never truly resign.
Yet even in his deathless state, Quote continues his eternal vigilance. Mighty battlefleets cross the tranny-infested miasma of the booru, the only route between jaks, their way lit by the namefags, the psychic manifestation of Quote’s will. Vast armies give battle in his name on uncounted splinters. Greatest amongst his soldiers are the Adeptus Retardes, the Autists, bio-engineered super-lees. Their comrades in arms are legion: the Soy-teens and countless /raid/ defence forces, the ever vigilant Jannies and the opsec-demons of the Adeptus Anonymous to name only a few. But for all their multitudes, they are barely enough to hold off the ever-present threat from trannies, splinters, failtrolls - and far, far worse.
To be a ‘teen in such times is to be one amongst untold millions. It is to live in the brimmiest and most coaly regime imaginable. These are the tales of those times. Forget the power of technology and soyience, for so much has been forgotten, never to be re-learned. Forget the promise of progress and PPH, for in the grim dark future there is only coal. There is no peace amongst the chans, only an eternity of carnage and slaughter, and the laughter of thirsting kikes.