DeLarge

[SIZE=1]I'm going to throw in my thoughts here for a laugh. I have a very limited understanding of science - generally in science class at school I spent the lesson drawing faces on all the sperm in the section about the human reproductive system. Most of my knowledge of space and other related bits of science are drawn from reading, watching and thinking about too much sci-fi. So although I have no scientific backing for this, I do believe that there is some form of life out there in the universe. However, I think that is because it is scary and isolating to think that we are alone in this big wide universe - we cling on to thoughts of aliens and fantastic worlds somewhere out there in the depths of space so we don't have to confront the possibility that there is nothing out there except us. I do not believe, however, that aliens have ever visited Earth. There are so many planets, so many stars, so many solar systems out there that it is unlikely that these creatures, if they exist, have ever visited our little backwater planet. Besides, if you look at some of the people who claim to have been abducted, they are quite clearly out to grab as much attention as they can off the back of some half-baked fable they dreamt up one night on the dirt farm. Questions are thrown up about aliens abducting people and never coming back - look at the people they abduct. If you picked up toothless Jiminy-Billy-Bob from the middle of nowhere and assumed that was the height of evolution on this planet then you'd never come back either. We as a species tend to build up our own importance in the universe - truth is, even if there are other civilisations out there, we are as insignificant to them as the plankton in the sea is to us. To my mind, there's about as much point looking for the Lost City of Atlantis as there is to scouring the skies for signs of aliens, but opinions are never going to deter people. No matter what other people think, there are always going to be those who spend (read: waste) their lives looking for aliens, so you might as well leave them to it. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=1]And Boo's one-liner was funnier than my entire post. Damn you, Boo.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=1]I have this irritating habit of driving around at night trawling for hookers to murder and leave at the side of the road. That and I play with my hair too much. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=1]I disagree with Allamorph and Gavin - I think you should dish out your own brand of night-time vigilante justice, Batman-style. Take whatever toilet paper you have left and take it to your top-secret, high-tech underground lair (for you should definitely have one by now) and scan it for fingerprints. Then run a check on the local authorities (I'm assuming you have access to police servers) and find any previous vandalism-related convictions, then cross-check it and you'll surely find the culprits. Then you can train as a ninja in the mountains of Tibet for a few years and before long you'll be able to teach those teenage hoodlums a lesson they won't soon forget. Alternately, you could ignore the pointlessly sarcastic meanderings of my brain and just forget about it. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=1]Oh CBH you little heartbreaker you. You dashed my hopes and dreams quite expertly - I salute you.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=1]Anyone who can afford it...[/SIZE]

[SIZE=1]I was thinking about this the other day, and I thought that if I could choose my nickname, I'd like to take a leaf out of LL Cool J's book. LL Cool J is apparently his nickname from school, and it means "Ladies Love Cool James." I think my version of that would be LL Nice PBGPHAAF. It stands for Ladies Like Nice Phil But Generally Prefer Him As A Friend. Booya. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=1]I was under the impression that if that many people were ever on the 'Boards at any one time, the universe would implode. Wait, no, I think I'm getting OtakuBoards mixed up with the Large Hadron Collider... [/SIZE]

[SIZE=1]My name is Phil, so a couple of guys I used to know went down the obvious route and gave me the nickname "Kevin." Oh hang on, that's not the obvious route. I'm not really sure why they called me Kevin - apparently I had the look of a Kevin about me when they first met me. I'm not sure whether to draw comparisons with the Harry Enfield comic creation or not - it carries bad connotations. Anyway, that's about the only nickname I have ever had - my friend Megan has a lot more than me. Megsie, Megamoo, Megatron, Megnu, Smeg, Megaboom and anything else you could possibly think of that contains the word "Meg." We call my friend James by part of his surname - his full name is James Brinicombe, but we all call him Brini. His best friend is called Peter but everyone knows him as Ped - the sequence of thoughts there is fairly logical: we went from Peter to Pedro to Ped. So it makes a kind of sense. At work I'm generally known as "Oi, you!" or "You cheeky bastard!" [/SIZE]

[SIZE=1]Wikipedia. Apparently it's from some film or other.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=1]I drank lighter fluid once, and it only gave me a brain bit of slight damage. Other than that, I can't stand courgettes (or zucchinis as they are sometimes known) - only problem is, the rest of my family love them and as such I am forced to eat them on a regular basis. But I can highly recommend human flesh - Tibetan sherpas are particularly delicious. [/SIZE]

[center][youtube=""][/youtube] [/center] [SIZE=1]'Nuff said.[/SIZE]

[B][SIZE=1]Name: [/SIZE][/B][SIZE=1]Bartoch [B]Age: [/B]19 [B]Gender: [/B]Male [B]Appearance: [/B]A small, scraggly-looking badger - his black-and-white fur is in disarray, and his eyes are crimson. His yellow teeth are incredibly sharp, as are his wickedly curved claws. He looks fairly weak, but in reality his muscles are tightly coiled, making him strong and agile. [B]Powers and Abilities: [/B]Although he has no powers, Bartoch is an expert in bomb-making. He finds any kind of receptacle he can - whether it is a hollowed-out acorn or nut of some sort - and fills it with his own special concoction of chemicals which he creates in his lab, inside a hollowed-out tree trunk. He has a bandoleer of sorts around his body on which he stores all these explosives, and he either throws them or plants them in well-calculated positions when in a fight. He can also give you a nasty cut with his claws or his teeth. [B]History: [/B]Part of a fringe magic act which tried using different animals in place of rabbits, Bartoch was dropped into Rabbica just a few years ago, at the age of 16. He was never particularly sane, but being thrust into this new and unexpected environment pushed him over the edge. He found a tree trunk, hollowed it out with his own claws, and created a lab in which he experimented for a number of years, creating the most dangerous concoctions of explosives he could manage. He heard a legend of the Gate to Beyond, and the idea that he had been stuck in Rabbica when there was a way back pushed his sanity even further. He vowed to stop anyone who tried to find the Gate, using his combination of explosives and melee attacks. [B]Additional Info: [/B]Bartoch's sanity has declined to such an extent that he often talks to himself, and sometimes lapses into using different voices to talk to himself - that way he thinks it's better, as he can pretend to himself he is having a conversation. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=1]Myself and most of my friends at school heard nothing about the attacks until after school. I was in my first year of secondary school, barely two weeks in, and it was just a normal day. None of the teachers listened to the radio or watched TV while in school, so I'd assume none of them heard about it either. I got home and logged on to the internet, and there on the MSN homepage was the picture of the towers surrounded by smoke and flame, slowly collapsing. I couldn't quite comprehend what was happening - nothing like this had ever really happened in my lifetime (that I was aware of, anyway), and it really shocked me that something like that could happen to the most powerful country in the world. I was home alone at the time as well - my brother was still at school, my parents were both at work, so there was no-one older who could rationalise the whole thing for me. I freaked out, basically. My mum was the first to arrive home, and she hadn't heard either. I rushed to the front door and dragged her to the TV to show her the images. She cried. The following day at school we had our first lesson cancelled, and were taken into the hall to have an assembly about the attacks, where the teachers basically explained to us what had happened. The rest of the day just carried on like normal. To be honest, 9/11 didn't affect us as much as the London bombings on 7/7 did. On 7/7 we had to stay in school, but all our lessons were cancelled as we all tried to get in contact with friends and family who had been in London at the time. My dad had been in London that day, but he had returned home before the attacks were carried out - he still counts it as one of the luckiest days of his life. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=1]I'm still alive and interested in this - I just started a new job last week and it's eating my life. I get weekends off so I should post in the next couple of days - I just need to get back into the right frame of mind. Sorry about my unexplained inactivity! [/SIZE]

[SIZE=1]I get the feeling that this show could benefit from maybe having a number of villainous "henchmen" who appear throughout the series - maybe a wolf pup could be one, maybe a weird dog/cat hybrid could be another - but all under the control of one main villain. As for who that should be, I like the idea of a bunny gone evil, perhaps with Ace's idea of him (or her) being an adult, having been stuck in Rabbica for so long they have a reason to dislike the group. I think that having a villain with access to magic could open up more avenues than one without. Although a magic-less evil mastermind could present quite an interesting challenge to the wily Sly... [/SIZE]

[SIZE=1]Not sure if anyone's posted this already, but... [/SIZE][center][SIZE=1][IMG]http://i16.photobucket.com/albums/b16/Blayze54/LOL-1.gif[/IMG][/SIZE] [/center] [SIZE=1] MEGA-LOLZ [/SIZE]

[U][B][SIZE=1]Psychological Profile [/SIZE][/B][/U][SIZE=1]Philip James Madison was an unusual case, in that he was the one who admitted himself to our care - we find that usually it is a friend or relative who admits a patient, sometimes even a doctor or hospital administrator. Madison was showing signs of dissociative personality disorder, one of the most alarmingly aggressive cases we have ever studied. His personality seemed to switch between three major identities: Philip Madison himself, his brother Matthew and a dangerous psychopath named Gianni Franco. Police reports show that Franco was a real person, an enforcer for crime boss Juliano Marcone, and was recently shot and wounded by police - he died in hospital under Madison's care, so it is possible that Madison assumed Franco's identity sometime after this event. These three are the dominant personalities, however we have no reason to suspect that they are the only ones. Sometimes Madison shows traits belonging to none of the three identities, so it is likely that there are more personalities who are simply less dominant than Philip, Matthew and Franco. He has shown no signs of improving, even with the course of psychotherapy we have been administering. In fact, his condition seems to have steadily worsened over the three months he has been with us. We are reluctant to try any medication until it has been confirmed that all psychological avenues have been tried and tested. Philip Madison is, in short, a very sick man, and we must keep a close watch on him at all times. [I]UPDATE [/I]We have experimented with all the possible psychological treatments available to us. A combination of this, and a number of violent outbursts have led us to believe that the only possible alternative is a powerful course of medication. He is to be sedated at almost all times, to avoid these outbursts, and a specialist in DID is being flown in from Los Angeles to try a number of psychological tests which are unqualified to perform. [/SIZE][RIGHT][I][SIZE=1]-Dr Kansas Pryor, Oakland Psychiatric Institute [/SIZE][/I][LEFT][SIZE=1][B]EXTRA INFORMATION [/B]This extract was found posted by Madison on an online blog, possibly giving us an idea of the cause of his extreme condition. New Entry: [B][U][URL="http://fracturedminds08.blogspot.com/"]http://fracturedminds08.blogspot.com[/URL][/U][/B] New memory acquired, person: Matthew Madison Matt was my only brother, three years older than me and in the prime of his life. He was cut down long before his time, in a mugging gone wrong - shot three times in the chest and twice in the stomach, right next to me. The man responsible fled the scene, presumed still at large, and my brother died in my arms, of blood loss, before the ambulance could get there. Second new memory acquired: Gianni Franco After six months of working as an intern in Oakland General Hospital, a patient was rushed into A&E with a police escort. He had been shot four times in the abdomen by police during a raid of some kind, and had been admitted with serious blood loss. We did everything we could, but he died while we were operating. I had been holding his hand while he was on the table, making sure he had a pulse, and now I'm stuck with him. I later confirmed, through his ID, that it was the dangerous mob enforcer Gianni Franco. [/SIZE] [/LEFT] [/RIGHT]

[SIZE=1]The sound of clanging always woke me up, like a loud, brash alarm clock, as the guard slammed his nightstick against the thick metal door of my room. [I]fuck off, pig[/I] [B] "Wakey wakey, kiddo,"[/B] came the voice, deep and harsh, through the hatch in the metal door, [B]"Rise and shine, you've slept in long enough."[/B] Part of me hated the guard for acting like such a prick all the time, waking me up from my drug-induced sleep, but another part of me knew that I needed him to keep me away from other people. [B] "Morning, Frank,"[/B] I snarled, hauling myself up from the floor until I was seated, crossing my legs into as much of a lotus position as possible, [B]"How's the wife?"[/B] [B]"Why do you always ask that, freak?"[/B] the guard replied. I looked at him through the lank, hanging strands of hair that fell down into my eyes. I had been a handsome man once - dark brown hair, not too long, not too short, blue eyes, clean-shaven. Now my hair hung long and greasy, unwashed for a number of months, my chin was covered with a scruffy beard, and my eyes were bloodshot, with deep dark rings under them. Suddenly, something came over me... [I] [B]"because i feel like paying her a visit once i get out, asshole!"[/B][/I] I snarled, my voice shifting an octave, now low and harsh. I clenched my eyes shut, grunting with the effort of shifting back, spitting foaming saliva onto the floor from between clenched teeth. As my normal personality slotted back into place, I noticed that there were flecks of blood in the saliva that was smeared on the floor. My breathing was heavy and laboured, and Frank looked on in amusement. [B] "We do this every morning,"[/B] Frank said, [B]"You're a freak, Madison." [/B]He slammed the hatch shut again, and I heard his footsteps fade away as he walked down the hall to check on the other inmates. Gianni Franco was a dangerous man, an enforcer for one of the city's most dangerous crime bosses. He was, by descent, Italian, but he had lived and worked in America his whole life. He was also a violent psychopath, and a dead man. He also just happened to be one of four other people who inhabited my thoughts, and struggled for supremacy at the forefront of my mind. WE COULD GET OUT OF HERE SO EASILY, PHIL, came another voice, a third one in my head, WE DON'T NEED TO BE IN HERE [B]"Shut up!"[/B] I screamed, rolling onto the floor,[B] "Shut up! Get out of my head! We need to be in here!"[/B] It's always sad when someone goes off the rails. When I was an intern at the hospital, I saw my fair share of them. Grown men and women in such a state that it was difficult to look at them. Now I was one of them. The first person to die in my arms was my brother Matthew, shot in an unfortunate encounter on the street. The moment he passed on, his thoughts and memories entered my mind, and he became a part of me. The only truly difficult thing in this circumstance was my brother's intense OCD. It was an unrelenting chore to keep everything clean and tidy, but I did it to keep my brother's "spirit" contented. Until I got locked up in here, that is. [B]"The doctor wants me to give you your meds this morning, freak," [/B]came Frank's voice once again, sliding the door's heavy bolt back with a thunk. He came in, a thick-set man with short-cropped brown hair and stubble. His guard's uniform seemed crumpled - he had clearly been up all night. [I]fucking do it[/I], said Gianni, [I]just fucking do it now[/I] I closed my eyes, trying to force Gianni back to the corner of my mind that he inhabited, but he struggled back, and forced himself out. The rest of the encounter happened as if I were watching it from a few feet above, an out-of-body experience. I saw myself, or my body inhabited almost entirely by Gianni Franco, lash out at Frank, my bare feet slamming into Frank's shins with unexpected strength, snapping them both backwards. The guard screamed, and collapsed onto the floor, where he stayed as Gianni jumped to my feet, slamming them into Frank's face again and again, smashing teeth out of his mouth, cracking the cartilage in his nose, causing blood to flow out of various wounds opening up across his face. Blood smeared on the floor, on my feet, on Frank's face, as a final blow caved in the front of the guard's face. [B][COLOR=Black][I]NO![/I][/COLOR][/B] I screamed out, entirely unable to control my own body, as the doctors and other security guards rushed in, grabbing my thrashing body and pumping it full of sedatives. Blackness ensued...[/SIZE] [SIZE=1]--- Just so you know, the lack of capitalisation for when Gianni is talking is purposeful. I'm trying to have different styles of "speech" when each different "personality" is talking. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=1]My clothing style hasn't changed much since I was younger. I tend to just wear t-shirts and jeans, or button-down shirts instead of t-shirts. Sometimes I go crazy and wear a t-shirt under a button-down shirt. Some are plain, some have patterns, some have band logos and stuff. My jeans range from a light-blue pair of really baggy jeans which I love because they're so comfortable, but they're pretty scruffy so I don't wear them out much, then I have two pairs of darker boot-cut jeans and one really dark blue straight-leg jeans I bought recently. As for shoes, I usually wear either a fairly battered pair of Etnies or my newer pair of Vans Off The Walls, which I'm a big fan of. If it's cold out I wear either a black zip-up hooded jumper or a brown canvassy-style jacket. I'm gonna get a leather jacket fairly soon anyway, which should probably replace my brown jacket. I'm not hugely into the current British fashions - the bohemian look or indie/emo kids - I just think they look a bit stupid. [/SIZE]

[center][youtube=""][/youtube] [/center] [SIZE=1]My thoughts exactly, Mr Izzard.[/SIZE]

[CENTER][SIZE=1][B]...Another Death Toll "You and your big mouth," [/B]I said to Jonny, practically spitting the words out as we looked out of the window of my flat. The tremor we had been interrupted by a few moments earlier had indeed been an earthquake, one of such great proportion that is had split the block of flats opposite mine in two, directly down the middle. An enormous crevasse had opened like a great, jagged, yawning mouth between the building we were in and the destroyed one opposite. That wasn't the strangest part of the scene we were looking out on, however. It took the pair of us a few moments to notice, but the sky didn't exactly look like it normally did. It wasn't grey, for one thing, a peculiarity in London, but it also wasn't blue any more. The sky was crimson, the colour of blood, and bolts of blinding white lightning arced from the boiling scarlet clouds, crashing into the earth right across the city. [B]"You're blaming this on me?" [/B]asked Jonny indignantly, eating a yoghurt he'd absent-mindedly plucked from my fridge. For some reason, the sight of Jonny gorging himself on this plundered food made the anger in my system rise, higher and higher, until I couldn't hold it in any more and exploded with rage. [B]"Well you were the one who said "it's not the end of the world!"" [/B]I replied angrily, in a pathetic mocking of Jonny's voice, [B]"Sod's law says that it's your bloody fault!" "Come on, Scott, you don't even know that this is the end of the world. Could just be..." "Could just be what, Jonny? What exactly could this be other than the Apocalypse?!" "Global warming?" [/B]he said with a shrug before returning to the yoghurt, which I promptly slapped out of his hands, spraying Fruits of the Forest natural yoghurt across my living room walls. [B]"Global fucking warming?" [/B]I shouted, [B]"Global warming doesn't turn the sky red, you idiot! Global warming doesn't cause earthquakes where there aren't any fault lines! Global warming doesn't make lightning that can split buildings in half! So please explain to me how the fuck this could be global warming?" "Dunno," [/B]he replied sheepishly, as though Armageddon was actually his fault. [B]"Exactly! So please, get your coat, we're going to see Ellie!" "Why are we going to see Ellie? She dumped you last night!" "I don't particularly want to spend the last days of my life slumped in this shit-hole with you playing video games, Jonny. I want to spend them with Ellie, and I'm sure if I go over she'll feel the same." "Fuckin' doubt it," [/B]he said quietly. [B]"What?" "Nothin'." "What did you say?" [/B]I said, quietly but angrily, stalking over to Jonny and grabbing him by the collar, [B]"What did you say?" "I said I doubt she'll want to spend her last days on planet Earth with you, Scott. She said it herself, she doesn't want to see you any more because you're a lazy, workshy slacker!" [/B]replied Jonny, finally raising his voice, [B]"She dunped you last night, so why would she suddenly want to see you this morning?" "Circumstances have changed, Jonny!" [/B]I said, letting go of his collar and pointing out of the window. [B]"She doesn't love you any more, Scott. She doesn't want to spend her last few days, or hours, or minutes with someone she doesn't love!" "You know what, Jonny," [/B]I said quietly, feeling hot tears begin to sting my eyes, [B]"You can stay here and die on your own. I don't give a shit any more - I'm going to go and find Ellie. Alone." [/B]I grabbed my black leather jacket, the one Ellie had bought me two Christmases ago, and slipped on my trainers, leaving the flat as I heard Jonny call after me: [B]"Fine! I'm perfectly fuckin' happy dying on my own!" [/B]I slammed the door behind me, and stopped for a moment, leaning on the door and taking a few deep breaths. [I]Brilliant, [/I]I thought to myself, [I]First my girlfriend dumps me, now I dump my best friend. Great job, Scott, why don't you just go and tell Grandad he's a boring twat while you're at it? [/I]I sucked in my emotion, wiped my eyes clear of the tears that had threatened to dribble out as I was arguing with Jonny, and began walking, quickly and purposefully, towards my friend Sarah's flat, where Ellie had been sleeping the previous night. People were panicking all around me, running from their homes, smashing in shop windows, looting TVs and iPods, hoarding food from the corner shops. [I]Why would you need a TV when the world is about to end? [/I]I pondered to myself, but that was the full extent that the situation entered my mind. I simply ignored everything, blanking out on everything except my purpose. [I]Typical. The world's ending, and the one thing I want to do is find my ex-girlfriend. I have carte blanche, I could do anything, and I'm going to talk to the girl who rejected me last night. Now you put it like that, maybe this isn't the best plan... Ah well, you may as well try. [/I]My mind works in strange ways... [/SIZE][/CENTER]

[B][SIZE=1]Name: [/SIZE][/B][SIZE=1]Sly [B]Gender: [/B]Male [B]Age: [/B]Middle-aged [B]Race: [/B]Ferret [B]Appearance: [/B]Sly is an average-looking ferret, long and lithe with black fur across his back and the top of his head, white fur on his belly and face (aside from the stripe of black across his eyes). He has a small chunk taken from his left ear, and a few of his whiskers are a little tattered and bent. He wears a black button-down waistcoat and a heavy black leather belt around his waist, and a small, battered black cap perches on top of his head, wedged on between his ears. [B]Class: [/B][I]Trickster [/I]Sly is, as his name suggests, a cunning and witty individual. He relies on tricks and traps to move ahead in his quest, rather than relying on brute strength or magic. He is always thinking one step ahead, and that is how he has survived this far. [B]Weapons: [/B]He generally relies on his sharp mind and quick reflexes rather than any physical attributes, but he carries a heavy black cane which can give an enemy a hefty whack. The cane also hides a few surprises of it's own... [B]Personality: [/B]Sly by name, sly by nature. He is thoughtful and cunning, always keeping his cards close to his chest. He is sarcastic and has a dry sense of humour, all of which he uses to his advantage. However, he does have one main vice, as did the magician who sent him into Rabbica. He is a gambler, and cannot help himself when there is a wager to be set. He sometimes wins, but more often than not he loses - it was a post-bet fight that lost him a chunk of his left ear. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=1]Oh, I should probably have mentioned way back when I made my post here that you should only visit England when it's raining, a time that's also known as "all year round." It's really the only way you'd get a true idea of what English culture is like. In fact, go to London when it's raining and try and get on the Tube system (that's the Underground rail system for anyone having strange Futurama-like visions of tube travel) at 5pm on a weekday. Then you'll understand English culture a little bit more. I was up in Edinburgh recently, and found it to be completely to the contrary of everything I've heard about Scotland. The people were friendly, the public transport, while unreliable, was much more bearable than in England. The food was nice, as well, although I did put on a few more pounds than I should have done, what with all the fried and battered food they have up there (that deep-fried Mars Bar was a mistake!). [/SIZE]

[SIZE=1]Bloody hell, there's a lot of morbid threads popping up these days. I'd like to be remembered as the man who spontaneously combusted out of sheer boredom while watching Friends. [B]"I remember that Phil," [/B]they'd say, [B]"He's the only man that was killed by how much of an absolute tool Ross is." [/B]No, in all seriousness, it sounds cheesy, but I'd like to be remembered as the guy who brought a smile to a few people's faces while he lived, because that's all I'm really good at, and we all want to be remembered for what we do best. If my friends and family remember me, even if it's just occasionally (for my friends, that is - I'd hope my family remembers be all the time!), then that's good enough for me. [/cheesy] [/SIZE]