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[quote name='Ravenstorture'][FONT="Garamond"][COLOR="DarkGreen"]Now that is just ****ing strange. For me to come back and read this. And it was only posted last month! I can't explain why I came back, damnation! Then again, I haven't been back long enough to see how different this place has become. Although I have noted a lot of reminiscing.[/COLOR][/FONT][/QUOTE] [FONT="Trebuchet MS"][SIZE="1"]This is almost as hauntingly coincidental as me seeing the Newt himself reactivating recently. I guess we all just have time now? I have to say though Desbreakfast, I'm old [I'm not even sure how long ago] but I do know my previous posting quality is rubbish and would certainly appreciate if that shame remained buried. Though I'm certain it was lost all long ago on the shift to the V3. Ha. The reason why there is an uprising is simply because those of us that dwell in the shadows do not appreciate being reminded that we too were preteens with an internet connection...[/FONT][/SIZE]

[quote name='Japan_86'][SIZE="1"]There are a few things we should consider. There is evidence for a lot of drug abuse lately and disabilities that require such things like walkers and canes are a result of that. Or in my case, being born with a disability just because my mom caught a horrible illness late in her pregancy. I hope I won't have to be relying on things like canes for a few more years.[/SIZE][/QUOTE] [FONT="Trebuchet MS"][SIZE="1"]Odd that I should find this thread considering the last one I posted in. I don't know the statistics for Canada but in England there are more 18-25 year olds using canes or other walking supports than 65 year old upwards, due to side effects from recreational drug use. "It's not ironic, it's just coincidental."[/SIZE][/FONT]

[FONT="Trebuchet MS"][SIZE="1"]Sorry, I haven't been here in a while, but this piqued my interest. I'll try to avoid a heavy debate [as experience has taught me that 1. I'm terrible at it and 2. The entire point of a debate is to convince the audience and not your opponent...and considering that we're all debaters here it sort of makes this entire situation redundant. Hm. Anyhow. I don't support the legalisation of marijuana. I have read many comparisons here between cigarettes and marijuana and how there has been little interest in restricting cigarettes and so on. I am uncertain of the nature of various countries and state's laws and restrictions on the nature of substances prone to abuse, so I apologise if my statements are contrary to the circumstance the reader currently lives in. For the past few years, building to a climax this year, the the Queensland Government here in Australia has introduced and enforced a series of serious sanctions [ah, alliteration] against or restricting the use and sale of Cigarettes. My memory is hazy on the exact detail and sequence but there have always been warning labels on packets of cigarettes ["Surgeon General Warns: Smoking can harm your unborn child"] that are simple advisory statements due to the consequences of smoking. I would like to include a comparison here to rule out objections to the placement of these advisory notices. Ibuprofen [an over the counter pain medication, with the common brandnames of Neurofen and Herron Blue] has advisory notices that indicate that you should not use the medication if you have heart, stomach, or kidney problems. The simple answer is that ibuprofen [while a proficient pain medication] [i]will kill your kidneys and various organs if you do do not drink enough water, have organ faults or even take it on an empty stomach[/i]. This is a fact, something that people ignore a lot, but generally it is a non-issue as the drug is beneficiary if used correctly [which it is usually] and these side affects are restricted to a negligible population. People are generally intelligent with medication. Cigarettes, however, are [i]not[/i] beneficiary. Groups may justify use of cigarettes and cite evidence of "it's what I need at the end of a long day" or "it settles my anxiety" [side note: Do not get me started on caffeine] but this evidence doesn't really have a scientific grounding or legal basis in my book. Why? Well, for one thing, Nicotine isn't necessary for an individual health or well-being. It stimulates the nervous system and creates a need [See: Addiction] for that stimulation. Another cigarette. Further stimulation. Body needs more nicotine. Escalation of use of cigarettes [and subsequent horrific respiratory damage]. Then you have population that "need" to smoke. People who smoke have increased health problems [you should see a throat swab microscope slide from someone who smokes] and create a strain on the public and private health sector. There are many people who do not have any "major" problems with smoking [other than an increased risk of Upper Respiratory Tract Infections] during youth, but in later years will develop severe conditions or experience shortened lives. People generally don't associate smoking consequences with their own smoking habit: "that only happens to heavy smokers" [Insert: "users"]. Government recognises lethal nature of second hand smoke Queensland bans smoking on train platforms, bars, clubs, public spaces in general, within 7 meters of a building entrance. Government also introduces legislation that all packets of cigarettes must be printed to include colour photos of smoking consequences [eye, lung, heart etc damage] with appropriate text warnings. Population response: [quote name='"One of my Customers"']"Gross, don't give me that one, the eye creeps me out. I don't know why they put those photos on anyway, it's just disgusting"[/quote] Response [intentionally sarcastic/pithy, I do apologise] "Would you prefer the photo of the child dying as consequence of her exposure to second hand smoke?" [quote name='"Customer"']"Yeah, that's fine. As long as it isn't that creepy eye"[/quote] Further conversation revealed that the customer didn't believe that cigarettes could do any of the things listed on the boxes. Logic fail, if the images are evidently making you uncomfortable because either A: they make you recognise that you're not bullet proof or B: Gross you out just because, then [i]they are working[/i]. Cigarettes are a nightmare for a population that is rediscovering or reinforcing science and [now common] knowledge of the physiology. Attempting a full ban would lead to unknown and unimaginable public backlash and problems, as would banning alcohol or similar substances currently legalised. Restrictions are introduced to prevent new generations from making the same mistakes. The long and short of it is that [like many things] you don't implicitly [i]need[/i] to smoke. There are many complications that result from smoking, things I didn't even consider or think of before I started study. It makes me [and my lecturers, and classmates, and demonstrators...] wonder at how lucky we have been so far that the consequences of such a decision haven't been more dire. [Side note before I continue: Quit smoking. If I can't appeal to common sense, I'll appeal to your fiscal responsibility. Cigarettes and their consequences cost you money lots much.] What is my point? In my wanderings through the halls of learning and such, we are taught about many conditions and the causes of said conditions. As such I am well versed in the use of ToxiLab kits for the determination of the presence prohibited substances in the urine, as well as the presence of these substances on the list of possible causes of an innumerable host of physiological problems. Yes, these "natural" and "synthetic" substances will mess you up. They are excellent at affecting your neurological processes to cause over stimulation of your mental faculties. It's how they work. Unfortunately, this overstimulation results in [i]bad things[/i]. The severity of these bad things varies depending on your genotype, yes, but bad things can and will happen to anyone who over stimulates their system [let alone the brain]. Enzymes, proteins, pumps, inter/intracellular processes can and will be broken by certain chemical compounds. This gives the "high" that apparently "needs" to be legalised. These consequences may be dire, they may be minor. The stimulated body requires more of the substance, leading to abuse. "I'm strong, I'm only a casual user" "It makes me happy" Super. Keep doing what you're doing and I'd love to chat with you in 20 years and compare your past and present cognitive abilities with a chart that represents normal degradation with age. I remember from a Chemistry 2 class with one Dr Steve Bottle, talking on the subject of Amphetamines and Marijuana and the chemical structure. He pulled up the chemical structure of the "pleasure" hormone that stimulates the brain [the name of which escapes me, I do apologise] and then that of Marijuana. Similar structure, but if it's possible to describe a chemical structure, then I'd call Marijuana [i]nasty[/i]. Being only a 1st year subject, he didn't really go into much detail other than list the various horrors caused by over stimulation of the brain by this chemical from Marijuana, but I do remember him saying explicitly "marijuana in the 70's is not like the marijuana now. It has been refined, it has been concentrated by people who need a higher stimulation. It will do serious damage to you much, much faster than the marijuana your parents ever used" What are my points here? Governments are generally the voice of the people [if you are allowed to vote and [i]actually do[/i]] and do what they believe is in the best interests of the people and the population of their nation. I used the example of cigarettes as Queensland [unlike other states] has introduced tighter restrictions on the use of tobacco and tobacco related products in an effort to curb use or exposure to the non-smoking public. Majority rules, system works and so on. There are medical boards dedicated to this sort of thing. If anything, the Government is losing money on these restrictions due to the cost of these campaigns and the probable loss of taxes from sales of cigarettes and tobacco related products. I may just be speaking for myself here when I say this, but I believe this may be due to someone recognising the significant health hazards associated with this practice. Yes, being healthy is popular with Governments now and smoking is associated [with good reason] with poor health. It may be a psychological campaign, but it is achieving results. Maybe not with everyone, but in a majority. Subsequent generations [i]may[/i] have healthier lives because of it. Science is important. Knowledge of the human anatomy and physiology is important. I have a knowledge of the FDA approval process and the Australian Equivalent Quality control process and I doubt legalised marijuana would be "fast tracked" by Pfizer, as the QC process takes significant time. Any drug that is spat out by a pharmaceutical corp in under 5 or less years, is treated with significant suspicion. Hallucinogens cause significant damage. I know I compared to other drugs and substances in society, but really I can't. These were general examples to have you [i]think[/i] about what is happening here. Hallucinogens, from what I have learnt, have an incredible diversity in their effects on the population. It can kill you outright, it may give the desired effect, it may not. They [i]will[/i] have long term consequences, which will surface. While you appear "fine" when your down, your neurology is shot to pieces and recovering and rebuilding to respond or even require significant re-stimulation with the previously used or even "harder" substance. People scoff at marijuana being a so called gateway drug, but it is true. Much like when you find yourself requiring more coffee to get started in the morning, or move onto stronger espresso, or switch to energy drinks, or start popping NoDoze, you are obviously satiating a self created need for caffeine stimulation. The same is true of marijuana and other prohibited drugs. The consequences are much more dire. Yes, it has been banned in the past for a variety of reasons and excuses [none of which I can claim to understand or excuse], but there is a reason for it. I'm not going to sing, or rap, or even dance. I won't cite my qualifications or even my religious or moral values, but I will tell you that I have studied these things in a sterile and scientific environment, and basic physiology tells me that Marijuana should remain prohibited. Yes, people have a right to "destroy themselves," but as someone who is educated in these things, I feel obliged to intervene. If a baby goes to put a fork in an electrical socket, I'm going to intervene. I'll put preventative measures and guards in place. I will educate. I could just let it take course and let the child learn its lesson the hard way, but there is always the strong possibility that the harsh lesson will be only learnt once, with immediate and life shattering consequence. If someone even [i]thinks[/i] I'm being narky or that I'm assuming I know better, I'm not ashamed to say that yes, I [i]do[/i] know better. I am aware of chemical compounds present in marijuana that may be extracted from marijuana or tobacco for beneficial use of mankind, but it doesn't mean we should smoke it. There are proteins and processes present in cancer that can unlock the secrets of the stem cell, extended life and tissue renewal, but it doesn't mean I'm going to sign up for a tumour. [/SIZE][/FONT]

[FONT="Trebuchet MS"][SIZE="1"]If I were a chocolate, I would be one that weren't as soft as the idea behind this thread... Hmm, I guess that makes me bitter. I would be a slab of 70% Cocoa Lindt chocolate with Orange Crisp. After all these years, I still love the orange ^_^[/SIZE][/FONT]

[FONT="Trebuchet MS"][SIZE="1"]Hmm, misconceptions are always fun. Since I was 17, many people I have met assume that I am older than my years. When I was 18, I had a uni mate who thought I was 25, an unusual compliment I guess. Though recently at work I had a younger co-worker [15] assume that I was just a bit older than her at 16-17. Considering I am now 20, it was a little unnerving [and against the trend]. I don't know, I have theories that these age assumptions depend on the context people see me in. At work there was suddenly a huge influx of young staff members [I am 1 of approximately 5 over 20], so I guess she just assumed... Due to my studies, I have a number of people who assume that I'm a little snobbish because of my chosen path. Occasionally I've been given a little cold shoulder or throw away remarks are made in my general direction. It's a little weird that people feel they can't relate to me, it's not as though I wield my degree like a bat or something. Tying in with the previous assumption, people assume that I'm overly serious and sober on all topics [while this is true for important things I guess], and automatically say something along the lines of "you're weird, but in a good way/you have more humour than I thought" etc when they have started to get to know me. Personally I blame the glasses stereotype. [/font][/size]

[quote name='Aaryanna_Mom']Freedom of choice. Even if we disagree with it. In the end each person has to make that choice for themselves. [/QUOTE] [FONT="Trebuchet MS"][SIZE="1"]I really don't think anyone could have said it better. We have our views on abortion and when and why it is wrong/why it's not and so on, and the argument seems to go on and around in circles. In my Human Rights and Ethics class last year, abortion was one of the issues we had to debate on and submit a group essay on. Let me just say, the exact same arguments and statements came up over and over again. Our lecturer [who for once didn't break off onto a "I hate all organised religion and this is why you're all wrong" diatribe] brought up an excellent point that even science can't decide when an unborn child [see zygote to birth] counts as "living." Various faculties and fields disagree on the matter and ultimately it comes down to the decision of the mother. Laws are generally in place to monitor the safety of abortion on behalf of the mother and the child [RU486 anyone? Wait, let's not open that can of worms until I find that article. Pretend there are spoiler tags or something until you can link some evidence] and generally that's as far as I think it should go. I personally feel that abortion for "convenience sake" [I can see several cringing at that word already] is a [i]bad thing[/i]. As for [b]Sara's[/b] comments on pregnant single women being treated or labeled as "loose" or "sluts," I agree with you that there is a dichotomy when it comes to the pro-life argument, but it differs in extremity depending on situation and circumstance. At this point I feel it's appropriate to say the tried and true generic statement "If people claim to be Christian, then why don't they practice it?" Those having recreational/unprotected/etc sex should know that one of the consequences of sex [i]is[/i] pregnancy, yes. As young adults [and old, let's not be ageist] are known to be frequently stupid in certain areas of life, pregnancy is a big, very big, emotional and physical thing. There'll always be a huge potential for it to be a life-changing moment, no matter the decision made. Personally I feel that the major argument is not that someone chooses abortion/life, but that the decision is made with brevity and without respect to the potential of life. I honestly don't think anyone [other than stereotypical male depiction in popular culture] has ever said, on the subject of pregnancy, "meh, doesn't matter. I'll/you'll just get an abortion." Such indifference to such an important [follow up] decision [Having sex being the first] just would shock me to the core. As for sex education in school, I don't see the big deal about it. Obviously it would be considered bad and/or morally corrupt if students were being taught mechanics of copulation and given educational material that involves examples.[ /insert generic immature statement here and move on] I'm pretty sure the sex education classes we were signed up for in school didn't consist of that and, despite it being a Private Catholic school, didn't push a particular religious agenda, quite possibly because of the large "atheist/agnostic" population and the general shift away from any solid religion in the curriculum. Kids [and yes, you, teenagers] need to know about contraception and possibility of disease [i]and[/i] what sex is biologically for. There's a big difference between talking about protection and telling everyone to sleep around. In Utah [and other conservative homes] parents need to expand on the education received at school. Brushing such things under the carpet isn't going to help in a society that is geared more and more towards personal gratification. It's unfortunate that people view their children's own personal convictions to be so fragile that they need to be sheltered from the world instead of allowing and encouraging them to push it back themselves.. [/SIZE][/FONT]

[FONT="Trebuchet MS"][SIZE="1"]The line wait is something you have to deal with as the Transport Departments of the world generally seem to be the port of call for everything. Fortunately our DMV's here in Australia have started using a new number system so that people who are only in to pick up a license are queued seperately from people that need to register their motor vehicle. That's not to say that it goes faster, but it cuts the time down depending on what you're going to do. The upside of going in recently to pay my car registration was that, while I was in line for over an hour, I did get a nice amount of study done thanks to the lecture notes and audio files I brought with me. Watching people trying to cut the line is hilarious also. I mean, you print out a number/letter combo and you have to hand it over at the counter that flashes your number. Simply marching up and demanding to be served does not work, especially when the person that was supposed to be served is standing right behind you. Thanks for the entertainment though. Generally I find myself attracting children [most of the time because I'm so tall I guess I become some sort of rallying point], and then end up striking a conversation up with the parent/owner of said child. I've found that the easiest way to deal with unhappy children is either: A) Distract/entertain them Or B) Bring along a set of "stealth" headphones [The SonyEricsson W800i has a lovely set] that block out all other sound and let you enjoy music at an appropriate level without irritating those around you. As for photos, I love them because both license photos of mine have me looking slightly sleazy owing to extremely wet hair from rainstorms I had to run through. Though [b]Fyxe[/b] has me thinking I may show up in costume for the next one. Not sure how well that would go down...[Is it possible to have a photo with a non-prescription eyepatch? Possibly not..] What was my point? Right, a good sense of humour and a little compassion will get you a long long way.[/SIZE][/FONT]

[quote name='Starwind']They call it a science, but it's a science based on nothing but "intuition". [/QUOTE] [FONT="Trebuchet MS"][SIZE="1"]I'm pretty sure most, if not [i]all[/i], science originated from intuition. Not meaning to derail anything here but these religion vs science arguments ultimately come down to individual beliefs. If you're being taught both the theory of evolution and intelligent design, then I really don't see the issue here. It's up to you what you take to be canon, it's only fair that you are presented with both sides of the argument. If there's an anti-religion streak running through this issue, then deal with it. The point of these debates [from what I can gather] is that the public can be educated on reforms that are being suggested. If you have a valid reason for Intelligent design to not be taught alongside evolution in schools, then get involved with the legislation and sign a petition or something. [and no, thwarting "bible thumping rednecks" doesn't count as a legitimate reason, though I agree with you that people can sometimes froth at the mouth over such sensitive issues as religion] It's always important to hear both sides of a topical issue and allow people to make up their own minds. It's what freedom is about, right? The Evolution vs Intelligent Design argument can be compared to the Climate change argument that plagued the news recently. "Opinion+hard facts" Science vs "Opinion+ hard facts" Science always means the argument will go around and around... [/SIZE][/FONT]

[FONT="Trebuchet MS"][size="1"]I hail originally from the seasonally bereft [URL="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Toowoomba"][b]Toowoomba[/b][/URL] [It amazes me that it has its own wiki page o.O;], but I moved to [URL="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brisbane"][b]Brisbane[/b][/URL] for university just over 2 years ago. I love it, it's a nice step up from what is commonly referred to as a country town. Personally I'd be quite happy to spend my single life here simply because there's so much to do, but I'd probably move back to Toowoomba if I was to have a family, simply because I deal with primary and high school Brisbane kids all the time with work, and I'm none too impressed... [/FONT][/size]

[FONT="Trebuchet MS"][SIZE="1"]Good gravy it has been a long time since one of these threads has been around, I suddenly feel quite old. Three things I realised this thread needs more of: suits, maracas and amusingly photoshopped and captioned pictures [there's no such thing as oversaturation] EDIT: I'd just like to point out that the Sudan photo was given to me back in highschool by a friend who insisted that it would help with my assignment on militarization of Sudan negotiations, an issue that was important back in '03/'04. Unsurprisingly, I felt I could do without said help...[/SIZE][/FONT]

[size="1"][FONT="Trebuchet MS"] I'm simply going to say I agree with James' statements in his post, rather than repeating him. Let me just say that, to a writer, having your work fluidly expanded upon...such things can only be described as [i]delicious[/i]. I've always had issues with creating the perfect RPG. Anyone who is familiar with my writing styles of yesteryear [don't look, trust me if you value your eyes] will probably understand now why I seek for near perfection in plot, character development and good, solid, posts. My perfect RPG would be one that actually [i]gets finished[/i]. Jokes aside, I feel that my perfect RPG would be one that is truly inspired by the reality I live in. I generally incorporate some aspect of my life into every story that I have ever suggested or toyed with. SYF is the earliest example of this, being initially inspired by the children's move [b]Spy Kids[/b], and a bizarre thought that lead to me conceptualise it in an appropriate reality. Obviously at the time of SYF1, I was still in the "liek I totally shoots mah gun and this is cool I love haveing teen hormones and things go boom" age, but I can still pinpoint that RPG as the start of what because ultimately more serious. As SYF developed and was reincarnated, I put in nods to current affairs and world issues, the story evolved and people worked with it beautifully. [An example of this was a reference in SYF3, a mention of an Australian Defence Force budget deficit of AU$400, no-one knew where the money went. Fun.] [URL="http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=52188"][b]Peace Hangs Them[/b][/URL] was inspired by current affairs yet again, this time via my Human Rights and Ethics Class, as was [URL="http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=55825"][b]One Per Minute [/b][/URL]. My point is, I like to take things that really hit home to me and expand that snapshot to show the emotions and attitudes of those trying to survive through trying times. I've learned now that you don't need an end of the world situation to explore the fragilities of human emotion and psyche. I mean, it depends on the skills of a writer to keep an audience interested in the growth of a character. I have found a niche in the realm of what I give the general RPG realm of "Guns." Things explode, people get threatened, but it's all getting toned down. Espionage is my thing and political undertones are starting to become my medium. My ultimate RPG is a brainchild that has been floating around inside of my head for quite a while now. Like most fathers, I really don't want to let other people work on my baby, so it'll probably stay in my head for a long time. [A number of other RPG's I have done, notably a techno-fantasy, are being written up privately for my own amusement simply because the story could not be contained]. Basically I was musing over the events in Iraq and the accusations flying about on the subject of unlawful imprisonment, torture, and terrorism. My contribution [or rather, my interpretation] of such events, was to develop an RPG revolving around the capture of an individual in the wrong place at the wrong time. I had planned for an Iraqi taxi driver to be called in to pick up a passenger in the Baghdad Green-Zone, only to park directly opposite a bombing attempt. Eye-witnesses show him to be making a call at the precise moment a bomb was remotely detonated in the lobby of a hotel frequented by international journalists. A snatch-and-grab wolf hunt follows where the unfortunate gentleman finds himself in the hands of the US military and subsequently treated as a "known terrorist." Players would take the role of journalists, family, military personnel, etc, all expanding on this man's new life. Depending on the players, this man could be found guilty or innocent, despite or proved by evidence that comes forward. I'd personally find it to be an interesting psychological exercise on the players, where the OBer's knowledge or beliefs could very well undermine the role they have to play in the saga. There would definitely be high potential for clashes of ideals and risk for hearsay and rumour to become fact. Personally I would choose to write the Iraqi Taxi driver's development, physical and emotional trauma coupled with harsh treatment and the ultimate of mistaken identity, with 100% potential for never having a life again...writing the scapegoat or saviour would be definitely a powerful and moving experience for me. I'm a research type of person who would most probably [to get this done properly] get in touch with those afflicted by similar situations, or find autobiographies of similar experiences. Truth and falsities wouldn't really matter as the RPG is being forged from people's perspective. Of course, with huge potential for something to be amazing, there's also huge potential for it to explode into something childish or off topic... Hence why I lock it all away upstairs... [/FONT][/size]

[QUOTE=Nerdsy][color=deeppink] That's [i]not[/i] how evolution works. Mutations are not caused by external forces; they are simply completely random. External forces merely decide whether or not that mutation becomes prevelant. [/color][/QUOTE] [size="1"][font=Trebuchet MS] Genetic sequences exposed to UV light causes mutations in the arrangement of the bases, often eliminating entire sequences resulting in a mutated expression, often resulting in cancerous growth or deactivation of cellular function. [Typically: Yay! Skin cancer!] Exposure to various chemicals used in laboratories for Agarose gel electrophoresis [for gene sequencing], will result in mutations. Substances such as [b][URL=http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ethidium_Bromide]Ethidium Bromide[/URL][/b], which is used as an intercalating agent in the previously mentioned Electrophoresis, are known as [b][URL=http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mutagen]mutagens[/URL][/b]. As for evolution, a cursory glance into the world of microbiology [specifically for the implementation of antibacterials] will reveal that natures smallest members prove to be "evolving". A minor [well, major really] example is that of the use of penicillin as an antibacterial. It was a lifesaver, literally, and an essential antibacterial used in patient management. Unfortunately there were a few bacteria that possessed [b][URL=http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Betalactamase]Beta-lactamase[/URL][/b], which breaks the beta-lactam ring in penicillin, rendering penicillin harmless. As the bacteria that did not possess this enzyme were killed off [to an extent], the enzyme positive bacteria survived, becoming the dominant bacteria in that species. This form of natural selection happens quite a lot [ie: Methicillin Resistant Bacteria is a large threat in hospitals at the moment]. Microbiologists have a selection of developed antimicrobials in a sort of tiered response set up. If the first doesn't work, use the next etc. This is to prevent the possibility of bacteria becoming resistant too early, natural selection etc resulting in "super bugs." Ah, isn't life exciting?[/simplified response][/font][/size]

[size="1"][FONT=Trebuchet MS] Self control is critical. [I'll say this a lot in some way or another, bear with me.] Get a day planner [some Universities give them out free during orientation] and stick to it. Get an alarm clock and place it somewhere where you have to get out of bed to switch it off. Appreciate how important it is for you to go to class, people at uni will say otherwise and skip it, but that's the risk they're taking. Don't get sucked in, they'll be freaking out the most when it comes to finals. Five months really isn't long at all. Aaryanna_Mom raised the best point though, get some recipes and start learning to cook for yourself. Learn while you can how to shop/cook on a low budget. If you assume that you can live on instant noodles [Sorry, [i]Ramen[/i]], you'll find yourself crashing and burning pretty quickly, ha. I'm final year Bachelor of Biomedical Science myself and I can confirm pretty much what everyone has said so far. Make sure you have a schedule for your spare time, start practicing [sounds silly, but you'll regret it come exam time..] going to bed at a decent hour. Try for a solid eight hours each night for a week. It may be easy, it may be hard, but it's something you'll need to do. I myself have a pretty intense workload with practicals, case studies, tutorials and lectures filling up my week. It takes a lot of self discipline to remain focused on my wednesday [Uni 8am-7pm, with only an hour's break] and do some study and revision in the evening. Another important part of discipline: Go to every tutorial, even if it's not summative and you don't get any marks for it. Those Honours students that are running those tutes [in my case at least] have done it all before and [i]know[/i] what the unit coordinators want in exams. They know what you need to learn and they'll often go the extra mile for you if you treat them right. It's a priceless investment of time. Learn how to chill out and take some time for yourself regularly, otherwise you'll find yourself throwing your hands up in the air one day and saying "BAH! I'm just going to watch TV all day today and do this tomorrow" ....not a good idea when you realise the next day that the work you put off, is due at 8am...>.>; If you have to work, get a job that suits your hours. I can't stress enough how important it is that your employment doesn't clash with your studies. If you skip one lecture to work "just this one shift" you'll find yourself skipping a whole lot of lectures and bumming second hand notes off your mates. ...which brings me to my next point. Make friends. Talk to people in your practicals or tutorials. It's awkward at first, but after a semester you'll be getting along swimmingly. Come third/final year, you'll have the ultimate web of people that can help you with [i]anything[/i]. Something people don't learn is that yes: plagiarism is bad [b]and[/b] stupid, but you can ask for help from your friends. If you don't understand something, someone else is bound to know what's going on and can help you to figure out what [i]LacZ[/i] is and why it's so important to molecular biologists. Or something, ha. Finally, there is a bit of a myth flying around when it comes to university, that it's "preparation for the real world" or that it's not "the real world." Forget that nonsense. University is preparation for the workforce, but you're living in the real world [unless of course you live on campus in a dorm/frathouse or whatever :p]. You're going to have real bills, real transportation issues, everything. Living away from home [as you've just pointed out] is very much a big deal and a steep learning curve for the first couple of months. Studying full time [I have 24 contact hours a week] and trying to work enough hours to cover rent/food [Bare minimum of 12], while still allowing time to complete all of my personal study and required work, is a heavy task. It's all worth it though. Don't let it intimidate you, there's a lot of fun between the study. Don't overdo the fun, haha ~_^[/FONT][/size]

[size="1"][FONT=Trebuchet MS] Zack sat on the corner of his bed, quietly listening in the dark. It was well past his bedtime, and he had school tomorrow, but he couldn?t sleep. Mum was out tonight. She?d been out an awful lot with work and that, but tonight was different. She was angry all day yesterday, and he had the bruises to show for it. She said that the deli was closing down because the owner was retiring, so she was out of a job. Zack thought it was a good idea that she should take over the business instead, and he earned a solid cuff about the head for his suggestion. When he came home from school yesterday, the house stank like the pub he passed on the way to school, and there was smoke rising from the ashtray on the table. Mum was asleep on the couch with her soaps on, so he did his best to go quietly to his room without waking her up. She needed her rest to get a new job and he didn?t want to make her angry. He closed his door, but she woke up anyway. She kicked it open and it hit him in the face. He said he was sorry, but it didn?t help at all. She told him how it was his entire fault and how he was just as bad as his dad, who ruined her life. She told him that she could have been better than this; she could have had a better life. Zack didn?t know what that meant, but his face was hurting a lot, he could feel a bruise rising. He started to cry, and earned a slap for it. Mum left the room and went back to her soaps. The next day at school, Mr Ingram asked him about the bruise on his face, and Zack told him the whole story. Mr Ingram told him that his mum shouldn?t do things like that, and he?d get someone to talk to her and tell her to stop. Zack wanted to tell Mr Ingram that it was his fault, but he agreed and said it was a good idea. He felt bad about that, but he wanted his mum to be happy again. So Zack sat in the dark, holding the only photo he had of his dad. He treasured it and had stolen it from the book of photos mum had thrown out. If she knew he had taken it, he?d be punished a lot worse than for just waking her up. Zack reckoned Mr Ingram was a lot like his dad. His dad couldn?t have been as bad as his mum said he was. Maybe he was bad like him. Zack knew he made his mum upset, but that was only by accident. Maybe mum was angry with dad because he had too many accidents or made mistakes. Maybe she sent him away; maybe she?d send Zack away too. Then he could live with his dad and he could make things out of paper and glue like he did with Mr Ingram. Zack liked that idea a lot. The front door opened, he could hear his mum come inside. There was a crash as she knocked over the vase with the flowers he had picked for her. She heard her shouting and he realised that he had made another mistake. He wanted to hide, but he knew he should be a big boy and take his punishment. He heard a man?s voice then, sounding funny like mum?s did when she?d been out. Something else broke and Zack sat back a bit on his bed. ?Zack! What is all this rubbish? Come out here!? Zack wiped the tears from his face and got off his bed. He went to reach for the handle, but he stopped when he heard the noise. It sounded like a big dog. There was a man talking. He said some long words that he didn?t understand, but Zack was sure it meant mum was being told she had been bad. Zack didn?t like that, but he was glad because it meant he would be okay. He thought he?d better thank Mr Ingram for sending people to talk to mum so quickly. There was shouting, a lot of shouting and some growling from the big dog. Zack became worried as he heard more things get broken. He thought he?d better stop mum from hitting these people that were trying to help them, he pulled open his door to apologise and say it was his fault. ?Mum! I asked for help from school, it?s my fault I?? Zack looked at the big dog, it looked back at him. He looked at the man standing beside it. He was smiling, so Zack smiled. ?I?m Zack.? He patted the dog, which licked his face. ?This is a big dog, can I play with him?? ?Certainly Zack. You go grab some things and you and your mum can come with me. Then you and Thane can play all the time. How about that?? Zack grinned, showing the gap in his teeth. He ran and grabbed his bag. He had filled it after school because he was going to run away to Mrs Dawson next door, but he thought it would make mum even more upset. He was glad now he hadn?t unpacked it yet. When he came back into the room he pulled a sandwich out of the bag and offered it to the big dog. ?Here you go Thane.? Zack grinned. ?It?s ham, I made it myself with pickles because they?re tasty.? He laughed as Thane licked the sandwich and his fingers. The man smiled and held out his hand, palm facing up. ?Come along now Zack, you?ve got a lot of friends waiting for you.? ?Okay! Do you know Mr Ingram?? The man smiled and took Zack?s hand in his, quietly leading him out the front door. [/FONT][/size]

[FONT=Trebuchet MS][size="1"] Eric Ironfoundersson stamped through the undergrowth as only a dwarf of his stature could, face first with both burly arms swiping away the brambles, as one would fan away smoke or fog. He?d been travelling for a few weeks now, and was well and truly sure that he was far enough away from the big mine to not need to worry about any random relatives popping up out of the ground?again. Using his keen dwarven sense of direction, Eric managed to lose himself above ground?again. He dug a hole into the soil deep enough for him to put his entire head in, beard and all. He carefully listened and grinned toothily in the dark. There was a river probably twenty minutes walk away, and the faint sounds of a town slightly further away. ?Maybe they?ll have need for a smith there,? he said to the soil. An earthworm in front of his left eye gave a slight non-committal shrug, and went back to wriggling through the dirt. With the barest hints of a ?pop,? Eric pulled himself out and landed heavily on his rump. He picked up his heavy leather satchel and tool bag before marching through the undergrowth. ??look, all I?m saying is that we need to have a cart that runs on water.? ?You mean a boat?? ?No, you don?t get it!? Eric chuckled to himself and stepped out from the bushes as the puzzled son of Adam was about to be corrected by the other son of Adam with the interest in shipping. Both humans paused to look at him, causing Eric to pause and realise that these two may never have seen a dwarf before. The man with water on the brain clutched the other in shock and called out, ?Calvin! Who stole his legs!?? Eric groaned and put his gear down. Calvin batted the other away and said, ?no, he?s a dwarf, Flynn. See? Short with a beard and axe. Er. [I]Axes[/I]. If it?s short, has a beard and an axe, that?s a dwarf.? Eric decided to interrupt at this point. ?Aye! I?m a dwarf, one of the proud sons of Stonebeard the wise, beneficent creator of the wise ones.? This seemed to sow even more seeds of confusion. Flynn muttered in sotto voice, ?Ben who? What?s he talking about?? Louder, Flynn called out, ?sorry, could you speak up a little?? Eric decided to do one better. He picked up his gear and threw it over the babbling stream for it to land heavily at the two men?s feet. Unperturbed, he walked through the stream. His braided beard floated up for a few seconds and then disappeared entirely as he reached the middle. Seconds later he walked out the other side, wet, but as though nothing unusual had happened. He wrung out his beard. ?I was saying to ye that, aye, I am a dwarf. I came here ye ken to see if ye needed a blacksmith.? Eric said, looking up expectantly. ?Who?s Ken? What?? Flynn said, perplexed. ?I?m Flynn, he?s Calvin. No Kens here.? He pointed to himself and Calvin as though to emphasise his point. Calvin dropped down to a half crouch and inspected Eric. ?You?re a lot shorter than I thought for a dwarf.? Eric raised an eyebrow. ?Aye?I?m average height for my clan. Four foot one in your measurements.? ?So out of all the races, second to the ants, you?d be the last to know when it rains?? ?This is going to be a long day, isn?t it?? ?Longer than you, that?s for sure.? [/size] [/FONT]

[size="1"][FONT=Trebuchet MS]Awesome! Huzzah, let there be feasting and so on! I hope you guys weren't waiting for me to post here before starting the RPG up, because I thought any comment made here would be superfluous considering that the Underground and RPG would be posted... So uh, if you're ready to EPIC it up with EPIC...ness...Eric is happy to bring his axe(s) to the party ^_^ [/FONT][/size]

[SIZE="1"][FONT=Trebuchet MS] Fancy! I'm always up for an [b]EPIC[/b] adventure. [b]Name:[/b] Eric Ironfoundersson [b]Race:[/b] Dwarf [b]Age:[/b] Being a long lived race, Eric is 112 in human years but can be compared to a human 20 year old in attitude. [b]Personality:[/b] Typical of his race, Eric is a easy going and carousing fellow. When presented with a problem, he's quite happy to cut it off at the knees. [b]Appearance:[/b] Standard dwarven chainmail with studded leather over the top. Iron shod boots protect his feet and were forged by his dear old ma, along with a particularly fetching iron helm. [b]History:[/b] Eric isn't a typical dwarf, he doesn't enjoy mining and gold lacks its lustre in his eyes. He'd much rather be out in the open air where there's only a minor chance of being crushed by falling rocks. He left the family mine up in the mountains just recently under the premise of finding a fine dwarven lass and founding a mine of his own. Currently he's quite content with the idea of moving to a small human town and setting up his own forge and smithy. Don't talk to him about claustrophobia. [b]Weapon:[/b] Eric favours a two handed axe, double bladed for preference and worn on his back for easy access at all times. He has two smaller throwing axes that he wears in his belt. If he's feeling particularly pithy he might shake things up a bit with his selecting of smithy tools in his large leather bag. [/FONT][/SIZE]

[CENTER][IMG]http://syf.250free.com/OPM/teacup-lge.jpg[/IMG] [/CENTER] [FONT=Trebuchet MS] [SIZE="1"]Slade sighed and looked back around the room, face carefully blank. He marched along the wall, looking carefully at the nocks and scratches in the plaster, brushing his hand carefully along. He paused, frowning to himself. He looked at the other walls in the room, and the frown deepened. It was possible, but incredibly risky. He followed the wall around, keeping his gloved hand brushing against the plasterboard. It lead around to what seemed to be the child?s bedroom. He stopped and walked back into the living room, shaking his head slowly. Slade called out to the officer on the front door, ?Constable! I need you in here right now!? The young bobby ducked into the house, removing his helmet and placing it underneath his arm. ?Sir?? He asked, looking straight ahead. ?Son, I need to stand right here.? Slade pointed at the floor beneath his feet. ?Don?t move from there. Call in two more of you over the radio, we may need them.? ?Sir?? ?Just do it son. Say it?s an order from me and tell them to get over double time.? Slade marched over to the kitchen, picking his way carefully through the room again. He stopped in the doorway and looked around carefully, behind him, the sound of the officer on the radio faded out. Something wasn?t right in the living room, aside from the murder, and something wasn?t right with the kitchen. It was too clean. Chase was being her typical self, picking away at the things that just didn?t sit right. She was the perfect partner, because every thread she plucked at unravelled all of the uncertainty that clouded a case for him. The scene in the living room was too isolated in its destruction. One could speculate that a victim, upon being attacked in his or her own home, would try to at least make an effort to scramble the few feet to the knives or the telephone in the kitchen as soon as possible. From countenance of the victim, he appeared to be the type that would make a run for a knife. Slade squatted down, peering carefully at the floor and the bloodstain on the tiles. It had oozed carefully out from the body, flowing gently over the tiles and spilling smoothly along the channels created by the grouting. In the centre of the now tacky pool, there was the imprint of the husband?s body. The smell- no the [I]stench[/I]- of the blood overpowered his nose. Years of work in the homicide department had eliminated his gag reflex, but still the odour was always powerful enough for him to be able to taste it. He coughed carefully into a handkerchief and put it back into his pocket. Shame the window was closed, even the brisk winter?s air would have been welcome. The air was so thick that Slade for a moment thought he?d be overcome by it. He walked carefully around the counters, stopping at the wooden knife block. One was missing, as he expected. He stepped over to the stove and the small refrigerator, opening it carefully. The shelves were bare, apart from a bottle of milk. Odd. ?DI Slade? The other officers are here, sir.? The young constable stood to attention on the kitchen?s threshold, face slightly ashen. He had seen the blood and now the stench of it was getting to him. Slade looked over his shoulder, waving him away as he spoke, ?thankyou constable. If two of you could just go and inspect the plaster wall on the far side of the living room. I want the other one of you on the front door, facing inwards.? ?Inwards sir? Into the house?? ?Yes son. Now go before you pass out from the fumes.? The constable nodded, now looking slightly green, and marched the few steps to the other officers, relaying the orders he?d just been given. Slade turned back to the stove. He opened each cupboard above the benches, entirely nonplussed when he discovered they were empty, apart from a bag of flour and a few scraps of dry pasta. That smell, above the blood. He turned back to the stove and leant close over the hotplates. Ah yes. Bacon. ?Sir!? Slade was out of the kitchen and into the living room before the constable had finished calling. ?Let me guess, you?ve found something?? He asked. ?Yes sir, Constable Delaney swears that the wall is too thick and I could swear that I heard something. Near the child?s room.? Slade smiled. There wasn?t any humour in it. He nodded to the constable on the door, who closed it as best he could before turning back to face Slade. ?Sir?? The young constable looked confused. Slade ignored him. ?Constable Delaney!? He called out, much louder than necessary, ?I want you to take the sledgehammer of yours and crack it right about-? he walked to the wall and slapped his palm against it ?-there!? Constable Delaney looked puzzled, and his mouth began to frame a question, but then the wall burst open and all hell broke loose. ?Run Jack!? The woman screamed, rushing straight out at Slade, brandishing the bloody kitchen knife. Slade was aware of the blur in the corner of his eye as a child rushed for the front door, hopefully into the waiting arms of the more clued in constable of the three. Most of Slade?s attention was focused on the wailing woman that was preparing to cut him several new ones. An inexperienced officer would have attempted to talk their way out, negotiating for her to put the knife down. Or, they would have scoffed at her, believing she could be easily overpowered. She was obviously emotionally unstable, most likely because she had just murdered her husband and had been living in the wall of her living room while police had spent the last several hours stamping around her flat. Keeping the child quiet must have been a nightmare. An inexperienced officer would have scoffed, but Slade had seen the knife wound on the husband. Amateur knife wielders get lucky nine times out of ten, and that knife would cut through a bulletproof vest like so much rice paper. Slade was dimly aware that the young constable beside him was now over his shock and was well on his way to becoming the next victim and posthumous winner of the next ?inexperienced copper? award. ?Miss, put the knife down, you are under a- The woman screamed and whirled, in one smooth movement Slade flicked out his friction lock baton and brought it down smartly on the woman?s arm. Bones broke and the knife dropped to the floor. Slade kicked it away dispassionately, nodding to the shocked Constable Delaney, who quickly set about arresting the now sobbing woman. Slade patted the, again, shocked young constable. ?Son, are you okay?? He asked, not unkindly. The young officer nodded stiffly, still staring straight ahead as though into his own personal hell. ?Look, I can?t keep thinking of you as a no-name bobby. What is your name?? ?C?C?Constable Robert Peel, s-sir.? Slade noted the name to himself with wry amusement. ?Well Robert, what would you say to a nice cuppa? Lets go and have a chat, shall we?? Robert nodded slowly, and Slade picked up the man?s dropped hat and steered him carefully out of the flat, sidestepping as a few more constables rushed in. [/FONT][/SIZE]

[center][IMG]http://syf.250free.com/OPM/blurmet.jpg[/IMG] [/center] [center][FONT=Times New Roman][SIZE=3][b]One Per Minute[/b] [/FONT][/size][/center] [FONT=Trebuchet MS][center][size=1][i]Absus non tollit usum[/i][/size][/center] [center][b]~~~[/b][/center] [center][size=1][URL=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?p=757173#post757173]Lost? See [b]The Underground[/b][/size][/URL] [/center] [center][b]~~~[/b][/center] [center][IMG]http://syf.250free.com/OPM/security_door_chain.jpg[/IMG][/center] [SIZE=1]Detective Inspector Randolph Slade stood in the centre of the ransacked living room with his hands in the pockets of his brown overcoat. Blank faced, he pivoted slowly on the spot, eyes taking in all the details of the destruction that had been wrought there. His partner, Detective Inspector Chastity Llewellyn, stood to one side with one of the Constables who were first on the scene to discover the chaos before them. At approximately 2am that morning there had been a call made to the local police station reporting an overheard domestic disturbance. The London-wide fear that had been instilled by the now coined ?Greenwich Incident? and the 32 follow up incidents in the past week had now prompted the Met to have extra constables on duty so as to more quickly respond to claims of domestic violence. There had been a nationwide campaign to renew the ?neighbourhood watch,? and thousands of curtain twitchers and busybodies immediately took up the call. There were hundreds and thousands of reports all over the city of overheard violence or incidents, but in comparison there were only a handful of cases that DI Slade and DI Llewellyn were interested in. The press were cheering at the amount of work that was being done to emphasise safety in the home, but at the same time condemning the Met for not doing more to ?trap the aggressors that feel to take the law into their own hands.? Slade didn?t care about the press or their snide comments. He?d been working long enough to know that the press was never satisfied with whatever the police provided. He quietly believed that, if they captured the Vigilantes tomorrow, the press would focus on why it wasn?t done last month before all of this mess happened in the first place. After that, they?d then go on to condemn the inactivity of the Government in protecting the people against terrorism?or overprotecting. It really depended which way the wind was blowing. He sighed to himself and looked around the room again. Same trademark destruction, animal claw marks in places on the wall?spots of blood on the couch?and then the large pool of blood in the kitchen where the husband had been found dead. ?So the door was closed when you arrived, Constable?? DI Llewellyn asked. ?Yes m?am. Door was locked and we forced entry to find the house in the condition you see now.? Automatically, Slade looked over at the broken front door. The frame was shattered around where the dead bolts had tried to hold their place. Splinters stabbed out where the locks had ripped through the wood when the constables had used the one-man ram to break down the door. He frowned. ?This door wasn?t locked from the inside.? He said, not turning his head. ?Sorry?? Chastity replied, pen poised above her pad. ?Look,? Slade explained, pointing at the door, ?All the deadbolts were locked, correct?? ?Yeah. If you lived in a neighbourhood like this, you?d want them locked and bolted? ?Right. But the security chain wasn?t.? ??I?ll admit that?s odd.? Randolph walked forward, picking his way across the floor without disturbing anything unduly. He tapped a Specialist Crime Directorate Forensic service?s man on the shoulder and pointed at the damaged doorframe. ?I want a close up shot of where the two deadbolts smashed through the frame. Take particular note that bracket for the chain is still attached.? He said, putting on a pair of white rubber gloves. Slade carefully shifted the broken door and inspected the locks. Sure enough there was the dangling security chain, no evidence of stress or strain on where it was bolted into the door. Had the chain been across when the constables forced entry, it would certainly have been wrenched out. ?It doesn?t mean anything, Randy.? Chastity said, almost in a scolding tone. ?They could have just forgotten to put it across. I forget it too sometimes.? Slade didn?t turn around. ?In the past 32 cases, all the locks in the doors had been locked, and the security chain had been put across. It?s not a lynchpin in itself, [I]Chastit[/I]y, but it?s something to keep in mind. I think this man was locked in, not locking people out.? Chastity wrinkled her nose. It was a small jibe at his expense to refer to him as Randy instead of his full name. She could tell when he was irritated when he replied back with her full name, despite her repeated emphasis to call her Chase. ?What else do you see then, Randolph?? She asked, waving the now awkward Constable out of the room. ?There?s no linearity to the destruction in this room. There?s no order to the chaos. It?s like- -like someone just took to it with a baseball bat?? Chase finished, sighing. ?I know Randolph, this whole thing just doesn?t add up. It?s not one of ours but I didn?t want to say anything till you?d thought it out yourself.? Slade stood up straight and walked back to Chase, frowning as he looked around the room again for what felt like the hundredth time. ?I?m willing to bet that the wounds made on our Mr McGee were not made by an animal. These supposed claw marks are too uniform, someone?s just run around and added them willy-nilly.? ?We?ll find out when we get the coroner?s report. Still we?ve got to do a proper job of it. There?s still another officer to interview and the neighbours to talk to before we can stamp this one off as a copy cat,? Chase sighed, closing her notepad and putting it into her jacket pocket. ?I?ll take the neighbours if you want to interview the last constable. We need to tread more carefully with our questions now. I?d say the wife has just moved into a couple flats away with a close friend until the heat is off. They didn?t have a car and her description was out on the transport system less than an hour after the call was made.? Chase looked around again. ?If she did it,? she caught Slade?s look and shrugged, ?If she did it, she?s been planning this for a while. For an almost Greenwich, this is still pretty authentic. Woman has got to be pretty desperate to go this far, especially in front of the kid.? Slade sighed and pulled off his rubber gloves. ?Don?t talk to me about desperate. This is murder, Chase. There is no excuse.? [center][b]~~~[/b][/center] [/FONT] [/SIZE]

[FONT=Trebuchet MS] [center][IMG]http://syf.250free.com/OPM/blurmet.jpg[/IMG] [/center] [center][SIZE=2][b]One Per Minute[/b][/size][/center] [center][size=1][i]Absus non tollit usum[/i][/size][/center] [size=3][center][b]~~~[/b][/center][/size] [size=1] ?Bravo Golf, this is Golf Papa zero two, we have arrived at the Bailey residence? [I] ?Acknowledged Golf Papa zero two.?[/I] ?House is well lit, front door is shut, with no answer. We are proceeding to enter the residence to investigate.? [I] ?Acknowledged zero two. There were reports of intermingled screams from the residence. Proceed with caution? [/I] Constable Stanley hooked his radio back onto the front of his bulletproof vest. Owing to a surge in gang violence in the area his sergeant pulled rank and ordered everyone to wear the extra protection. Many times in the cold winter?s wind he wished he was in his comfortable jersey or the waterproof jacket?but house calls like these made him feel exceptionally grateful for his sergeant?s foresight. Stanley cupped his hands and called out to his partner, ?Constable Pickering!? There was a moment of quiet and then a small female voice called out, ?what?? Stanley groaned inwardly. Constable Pickering was quite new and very much inexperienced. She seemed overly keen about everything, and easily elected in his mind the image of a bubbly receptionist more so than that of a garden-variety bobby. She bustled over to him, straightening her bowler styled hat and adjusting her hair. ?Back door is closed Constable Stanley,? she reported in an attempt at a formal authoritative tone. ?Lights are on, and the living room and kitchen are in shambles, cushions and feathers everywhere.? ?Thank you Sara,? Stanley nodded, ?you heard on the radio, come on. We?re going in.? Constable Stanley marched up to the front door and hesitated. The Armed Response vehicles couldn?t be more than five minutes away. They could wait and let them take over and sort all of it out, putting the potential for a cock-up in someone else?s hands. He shook his head and raised a closed fist to knock, turning to nod to Pickering. ?What is it Constable Stanley?? Constable Stanley ignored her, his eyes were on the two squares of light illuminating the front lawn from the broken bedroom window. Couldn?t be? ?Constable?? It couldn?t be. ??Dave?? Constable David ?Dave? Stanley dashed down the steps and wrenched his head up to stare into the bedroom window. He swore loudly and charged up the landing, attacking the door with a heavy kick to the lock with his solid combat boots. The door gave way on the third kick, shattering the deadbolts loose and casting splinters into the narrow hallway. Sara Pickering was beside herself. First call to a domestic dispute, her first night shift in a supposed quiet neighbourhood. It had looked violent inside, and the thought of being exposed to something like that terrified her. Now her supposedly unflappable senior partner was like a loose sail in a roaring gale. Composing herself, she charged in after her partner and followed him up the stairs. The room was in the same mess as the rest of the house. Glass shards were still in the broken windows, glass on the floor from a hissing broken telly, scattered bed sheets?blood on the bed. It looked as though someone was tackled off the bed into the wall. The dent testified to the fact that someone it quite hard. Sara?s eyes followed the horrific trail of conflict around the room until they rested on the back of her tall partner. He had his hands up, untying some rope that was fixed to the curtain rod. She couldn?t see round him?but over the rapid beat of her racing heart, she heard the faint whimpering. There was a thud, and Dave stepped out of the way, revealing a scratched and beaten man. The man was unconscious, but whimpering like a child caught in a horrible nightmare. Dave laid him on his back on the floor and checked his vital signs. ?Looks like an animal got to him.? Dave muttered, checking the gashes on the man?s chest. ?Not much bleeding, seems he?s going to be okay?? In a trance like state, Sara stepped forward and reached for the note that was neatly pinned to the man?s tattered shirt. Without thinking, she began to read it out loud. [I]?London Metropolitan Police, This is a man whom you have ignored for too long. This is one of the bottom feeders of the cesspits you call suburbs. He was a bank manager, a proud and upright leader of your so-called communities. He received awards and applause for ?what great things he has done for Greenwich, for London and for Great Britain!? We show you now the man he truly is. An animal. He drank, he abused, he hurt and he broke his own home. The physical scars now on this residence pale in comparison to the emotional horror he dealt here in his supposed idyllic and happy household. Here he destroyed the lives of his wife and child. Every day they spent in squalor under this roof was a day in their own personal hell, and you did not liberate them. You were blind to their pain and to their anguish, your eyes were closed and you looked the other way while such atrocities were committed. You would not rescue them. We have been watching. We have been noting your actions. . We have stood aside for too long while the laws that you agreed to uphold were crushed under the hand of ordinary men. You have failed to uphold the rights of the innocent, of the children. It seems that you need to be reminded of the laws you agreed to in 1946. It seems you need to be reminded of your duty to the life and rights of a child, here highlighted and taken from your so-called ?United Nations? [/I] Sara?s eyes drew in the quoted UN charter, drawing in the details that had been highlighted. Sick to her heart she silently read of the abuse that had been committed against the man?s wife and son, by his own hand. The horror that the once sunny household contained spoke to her a sorrowful melody of shame, arrogance, blood and tears. A sob rose up her throat as she read out to her ashen-faced partner, [I]?The child shall be protected against all forms of neglect, cruelty and exploitation?London Police, you have failed. We have taken this child from the violent house you allowed his Father to imprison him in. Because no child is to be without his or her mother, we have rescued her also. Your neglect and disregard for innocent life, will not stand. All will be held accountable. He was not the first, nor will he be the last. This is just the beginning, there will be a reckoning??[/I] Sara looked around the room, overwhelmed. This wasn?t supposed to be how the job went. This wasn?t in the job description. She joined up to protect people, to help them, not to discover that she had failed already. She looked at the signature at the bottom of the note, squinting as she tried to decipher it. Trying to read it hurt her eyes. As she watched, the signature seemed to squirm and defy any attempt at translation. Sickened, she gave the note to her partner, and looked out the shattered window. It had started raining again. The sound of a siren peaked as the Armed Response vehicle pulled up, basking the suddenly bleak streets in a spiral of blue and red light.[/size] [size=3][center][b]~~~[/b][/center][/size] [size=1]According to Amnesty International, in its ?It?s in our hands: stop violence against women? report, which detailed violence against women in public and in private; [I]?I really don?t know what it was that evening that made me decide to call the police, but I always say it was the sight of cleaning up my own blood.? Lorraine, a British woman, was regularly beaten by her partner for eight years before telling anybody. ?People have asked me why I didn?t just leave, but my partner made lots of threats to me which he always carried out. I was very, very frightened of him. So you get to the point where you live with it, it becomes a normal pattern of life, you adapt, you cope, you hide it.? [b]In the UK, emergency services receive an average of one call per minute about violence in the family[/b].?[/I][/size] [size=3][center][b]~~~[/b][/center][/size] [size=1]The initial domestic violence report, filed by Constables Stanley and Pickering, was filed and noted. The bruised and beaten man, Mr Miles Jeapes, was admitted into hospital in an unconscious state, which he was unable to be retrieved from. The entire time he was in the intensive care unit he whimpered and cried and screamed until his heart finally gave out and he passed away. The note attached to him when he was found was treated as suspicious, but being an isolated case it wasn?t put in for particular attention. Less than three days after the initial house invasion, several other homes were discovered, each ransacked in similar fashion. In each situation an adult was discovered unconscious with a note on or about their person with detailed and annotated information relating to their crimes. All woke up after a brief hospital visit. Some, through suspected traumatic stress induced amnesia, claimed to not recall how they ended up being bound and imprisoned in their own homes. Police interrogations and mention of evidence found in the home of child and spouse abuse resulted in admission of guilt, but occasional defiance in the victims. A majority of members of the police force, despite publicly condemning the actions of ?those who would take the law into their own hands,? secretly appreciated the results of their unsanctioned actions. Many child pornography and paedophilia rings had been discovered, on all levels on the social ladder. Many cases were thrown out of court. The ?justice? that was so freely administered and dispensed by the vigilante, or possible vigilantes, often contaminated proof of guilt, or provided circumstantial evidence. The press condemned the Metropolitan Police and CID for their apparent inability to prevent these violent house invasions and to capture the vigilante or vigilantes responsible for such disregard for human rights. The irony was not lost on some of the more intellectual media analysts. No evidence was discovered in the invaded homes that suggested the identity of the invaders, and the signature and symbol that was associated with them still defied translation. The London Criminal Investigation Department (CID) was given the task to discover the identity of the vigilantes and set up a special Vulnerability Unit. The unit was given the task of both hunting down the vigilantes as well as bringing those to justice that had been trussed and displayed in their own homes. The more they investigated into the identity of the vigilantes, the less they uncovered.[/size] [size=3][center][b]~~~[/b][/center][/size] [size=1]This RPG is written from the perspective of two members of the CID Vulnerability Squad, who will be played by myself and [b]Sere Tuscumbia[/b]. As this is a closed RPG, there will be no official sign up thread, but you are freely welcome to comment in this Underground thread on the nature of One Every Minute. I came up with OPM while studying for a Human Rights and Ethics examination, and the alarming amount of violence against women and domestic violence in the home lead to an interesting story idea. Fortunately for me, Sere was online at the time and helped me flesh out the story quite a lot and develop it into the rather dark crime story that you will see unfurling on the boards over the next few months. Some of you used to my writing will find that this quite different from my other RPG ideas, but I feel it?s a natural progression of story depth [ie: plot that doesn?t centre on espionage ^_~], and it?s quite possibly going to be much more mature than my other work. We can only hope. Any support or advice would be appreciated and can be directed to me via PM or this Underground Thread.[/size] [size=3][center][b]~~~[/b][/center][/size] [size=1][b]Name:[/b] Detective Inspector Randolph Slade [b]Age:[/b] 36 [b]Sex:[/b] Male [b]Previous Department:[/b] Homicide [b]Life:[/b] Randolph Slade joined the Met when he was fresh faced and 19, beginning his life as a constable for the London central business district. After a few years and rank progression he showed an interest and aptitude for detective work and applied for a transfer to the Homicide Department of the London CID. He quickly rose to the rank of Detective Inspector and became well known for his steady pace and dedicated commitment to his investigations. Amongst the regular police he was unofficially christened as ?Old Stoneface? because of his serious demeanour and prematurely aged countenance. Randolph Slade married Julie Heibloem, a Court Receptionist, when he was 23 years of age in 1993. They had a happy marriage and two children, Joel and Samantha, two years apart. His transfer to the homicide department lead to longer and more awkward working hours, causing a wedge in his relationship with Julie. Late last year he returned home to find that locks on the house were changed and a few small personal items of his sitting on the front step. For the past six months he has been living in a single bedroom town flat and has not been allowed to see his son, now 10, and daughter, now 8, in that entire period.[/size] [size=3][center][b]~~~[/b][/center][/size] [center][size=1] [URL=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=55825]Ready? See [b]The Arena:[/b] [i]One Per Minute[/i][/URL][/size][/center] [size=3][center][b]~~~[/b][/center][/size][/font]

[quote name='Panda']Got 2B Glued is excellent for using to put hair in spikes or other styles that you want to stay put. Cosplayers swear by the stuff. I can tell you from first hand experience with the "glue" that it WILL keep your hair in spikes. Very stiff, dangerous spikes that could possibly act as a weapon. I kid you not, Got 2B Glued is some hardcore hair product![/quote] [size="1"][FONT=Trebuchet MS]Haha. Serious rock solid spikes are indeed lethal weapons. As is any hair that has been so well cemented. I remember during our 2003 school musical "Back to the 80's" that it was hazardous for male members of the chorus to stand in close proximity. The amount of times I had a wayward spike of gelled+waxed+sprayed hair stabbed in my eye...eeesh. Made me almost regret how tall I was. I'm even taller now, but still. Lethal o.O; The concept walking through cosplay characters at a convention makes me ponder wearing the hardcore lab safety specs over my glasses...[/size][/FONT] [quote name='DeadSeraphim][size="1"][color=indigo][font=arial]You aren't a failed actress fake smiling through a pitch about Omo though, so you're in the clear.[/font][/color'][/size][/quote] [size="1"][FONT=Trebuchet MS]I'm just one brown wig away baby...[/font][/size]

[size="1"][FONT=Trebuchet MS]Well when you do go about getting some style tools, I'd suggest getting Garnier brand "Fructus Style" [b]Manga Head[/b] explosive putty. Instant Goku. No joke. I have really really thick hair so gel sucks, as does zee wax. This is the first style stuff I have come across that actually works throughout the day. I feel like a "Brand power" commercial now. [/FONT][/size]

[QUOTE=Raiyuu][FONT=Trebuchet MS]No the question is "who cares?" And beyond that, "why are forensic scientists still testing a long-dead racehorse when people are out there getting away with rape and murder?"[/FONT][/QUOTE] [size="1"][FONT=Trebuchet MS]Why are we also discussing a long dead horse when hundreds of thousands of people are dying each day due to wars or conflicts that our respective countries are involved in? *cough* You can't force a forensic scientist to study DNA from rape or murder. If there aren't any positions available that suit your qualifications, you take the first job you can get. I want to use my Biomedical Bachelor to work in the Leukemia research department of the Mater Hospital, but if the only position available is in MasterFood's Quality Control [No...nothing to do with tasting. Lots of statistics], I'll take it. Fun fact! Queensland's forensic department were so backed up in the amount of DNA testing they had to do, a large removable refridgerated crate was hired to store all of the material just off-site. Case in point: It's an interesting subject. We've always loved our underdogs, and from the Wiki article it seems that PharLap was pretty much down in the dirt from day one. Though I'll agree that the life-size bronze statue is a bit much...[/FONT][/size]

[quote name='drakkeness']Many have suspected it for years but just recently it was proven. Phar Lap was poisened by the Americans, he was fed arsenic..The question is why? Was it because America couldnt stand the though of an Australian horse winning on their home tracks?[/quote] [size="1"][FONT=Trebuchet MS]We-ell, it wasn't [b]America[/b] that killed Pharlap. Possibly one could trace it all back to the American Dream of money and justify it as America that way...But I escape on a tangeant. Last I heard Pharlap was poisoned by an American Mob that had a gambling racket. The horse's high potential for a win [possibly overblown due to the limited nature of communication those days] probably posed a threat and had to be removed. I sincerely doubt it had to do with any America/Australia hostilities...[/FONT][/size]

[QUOTE=Sandy]Honestly, I'm many times more worried about the amount of nuclear weapons that USA has in stock than whatever North Korea has. [/QUOTE] [size="1"][FONT=Trebuchet MS]Weapons analysts and scientists have speculated that over half of America's nuclear stockpile [7000 weapons? 2000? Lots? I can't remember. I'll come back with a reference] is currently defunct and past its use-by date. Oh, by the year 2010 it will all be so much radioactive trash. Nuclear scientists are currently being taught how to make more. Nuclear weapons knowledge, because of the Cold War and the threat of Moles, was often only contained in the minds of the scientists who built them. Who are now mostly dead. [Pacifists say yeah! Glory to the inevitable onset of age!] I'm guessing that's another possible [entirely ludicrous] reason why someone is a little concerned about N. Korea's possible nuclear stockpile. The only ethical way to respond to this "threat" is to heavily invest in missile shield defense systems and [i]react[/i] to an act of war. It'd be nice, if there were an international situation, if the "Coalition of the Willing" didn't start it. There honestly isn't much that can be done about N. Korea. Sanctions on weapons proliferation are a good idea, but should have already been in place. People much more quick on the uptake than I have already mentioned the issue of the propaganda machine and indoctrination that is happening. [Go China! I mean, North Korea!]. War and conflict has purposes. In defending our rights, our wives, our children, our people and our property. Sometimes we have to do it for others, whether we do that or not depends on our democratically [ideally] elected governments. [/FONT][/size]