NationStates Jolt Archive

((OOC: You knew it had to happen eventually! For the record, the original thread can be found here! (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=282874&page=1&pp=15)))

The Return of the Bastard NS Moderator from HELL!
Volume 1

Like the phoenix of myth, I rise from my slumber to face the new day, ready to tackle the challenges and obstacles that await me, eager for the test.

Yeah, right. I drag myself out of bed and suck down some caffeine, glad that I don't have to worry about school or work for awhile. Suitably fueled for the day, I boot up my home computer while trying to ignore the last vestiges of my post-finals celebration, which, for the record involved a great deal of anime and booze. Being the lightweight that I am, I probably shouldn't've done all those Nuriko Specials, let alone my buddy's infamous "Banana Fuck"s. Those things have enough booze to drop an elephant, I swear.

Oh well. As my computer finishes going live, I hop over to Nationstates, where I have been horribly lax in raining hellfire and damnation upon the heathen lusers.

When the game moved to Jolt, I suffered a terrible, terrible blow.

No longer can I openly act as the bastard forum admin from hell! My brackets, my authority remain, but I can't personally screw with the forums like I used to. Alas.

So instead I take it out on people via the mod centre!

Username:
>>clicky clicky clickity click<<
Password:
>>clicky clicky click click clicky<<

Ah, the seat of my power, how I have neglected you! I am returned! Gaze upon Reploid Seductions the Game Moderator, foul players, and know now your doom that I bring! I rifle through the tasklist for some likely chore while I dig up my notes. DEAT UN Delegate of the Day, Random UN Proposal of the Week, Game Error of the Day... ah, how I have missed these!

"Please resurrect my nation Loud Noises."

I blink and reread the task. THAT guy?! Impossible! I know the player of that obnoxious roleplay nation killed himself! My deleting his nation was what triggered it after he was on to my tactics at work! I scroll down and read the rest of the task.

"My friend used to play a lot before he died suddenly last year. I would like to take over playing his nation. I think he would have wanted it."

Ah-hah! Good, I wasn't hallucinating about some former bastard mod victim coming back from the dead. I look up the nation that filed the request, and check the Game Error of the Day list. Today's is the "cascading corrupted telegram error". Okay, a bit of a trick to work with, but I can manage, and I telegram the guy.

"I'm sorry, but due to a corrupted telegram error, Loud Noises' telegram box is not functioning properly. Restoring this nation could cause a cascading problem, corrupting dozens of other game files and potentially crashing the entire game. You don't want that, now do you?"

There! Problem resolved. I finally log in to my actual nation, and find the familiar eyebrow twitch of annoyance at the presence of telegrams in my inbox.

An invite from some obnoxious player demanding I "face him in his region"? Followed by several vastly more insulting telegrams at my lack of reply? Oh ho, this will be pleasant. I check out his region, "mod discussion board" and laugh at the patheticness. "Chat with the mods here!" it claims. HAH! Like I, or any of my fellow bastard mods have the time or the desire to engage whiners in alleged "discussion" about our activities? I set one of my puppet nations to founder of the region, eject everyone else, and password lock it for my amusement. Then I load the whiner up and commence mutilating his nation's stats. I could just delete him, but that would be in accordance to what he's done, flaming and threatening! So instead I completely screw up his nation's stats, effectively making his nation so bugged that it won't update properly. That big-nosed game admin SalusaSuckUppus can deal with the potential game crash later.

I cruise the forums and randomly lock down threads, noting players who piss me off and flagging them for future deletion. After assembling a nice big target list, I wander back to the centre, and once again, let the modbombs fall like gentle rain from the heavens!

That is, if "gentle rain" means "nuclear barrage".

~Reploid Seductions ... the Bastard NS Game Moderator from HELL!

To Be Continued....?

whatever

Mmm. Group hug.

O.o

O.o

Heehee! I haven't used my old forum admin account in forever =D

hehehehe! Awesome. Hopefully there'll be more Bastard NS Mod stories. Tis some fun stuff. :D

XD , REPPY !

You wil of course need to work in the DEAT Katana later if you continue,

<.<

>.>

* ducks the swing

Wow. It's been a long time since I've seen you around. Glad to see you back.

Uh-oh
Nation Not Found: "[reploidproductions]"
If possible, use your browser's BACK button to return and fix this.
:eek: :eek: i thought only admin could do this :eek: :eek:

That is an Admin account. Reppy's a Forum Administrator.

That is an Admin account. Reppy's a Forum Administrator.

Was, not is.

Was, not is.

Is. She just doesn't have her powers back yet.

sweet! :D

Thanks for the morning laugh. :)

I knew it! Evil I tell you...Mods are Evil Incarnate!

...but quite tasty with brown sugar!

I knew it! Evil I tell you...Mods are Evil Incarnate!

...but quite tasty with brown sugar!
<(0_o)> Kirbys Confused

Bastard NS Moderators from HELL are back to haunt us :eek:


good, i missed these stories :D

Haha, this needs to be continued. :D

']I check out his region, "mod discussion board" and laugh at the patheticness. "Chat with the mods here!" it claims. HAH! Like I, or any of my fellow bastard mods have the time or the desire to engage whiners in alleged "discussion" about our activities?

:D

']Then I load the whiner up and commence mutilating his nation's stats.

You know, my civil and political ratings have gone down quite a bit in the last few days... :)

Is. She just doesn't have her powers back yet.
WE ARE DOOOOMED!!!!!!! :eek:

*cackles in enjoyment*

*then hides*

BLaraargh ..

*melts.

*witnesses in amusement*

The Bastard NS Moderator From Hell Vol. 2

The name's Sir Rocko. Rocko with an ar. And four other letters. I am an issue editor. I scan the list and purge the rubbish, delete the unwanted, kapow-zasplat the god-awful... and I see a lot of god-awful. Today I looked through the list, and I must have deleted hundreds and hundreds, but not ONE interesting, original, good issue did I lay my eyes upon. It's depressing, but so is everything else on this Goddamn planet, especially Bob Monkhouse.

I ruffle my hair to indicate just how tired I am and lower my eyelids slightly to denote the extremity of my bitter cynicism and disgust with society. That done, I am ready to look through the issuelist.

Issue Title: werkjgnhqe

qerjnf[qerknl'errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

I slumped in my chair and rolled my eyes at the ceiling. I don't deserve this. What depressed me most was how the author had got bored even by the random letters and just plumped for the one. I deleted the issue and then the submitter. I'm not supposed to do that of course, but who cares? The national animal was a Volkswagen. That made me so angry I headbutted the wall a few times before I hit the big red button, also known as 'Grandaddy Crimson' to those in the know.

Issue Title: SHUD PEOPLE BE ALOUD TO HAVE SEX IN PUBLIC???!!!!

OPTION 1 YES SAYS MR SMITH EVERYONE SHUD BE ABEL TO GO OUTSIDE AND BE NAKKED SO WE CAN SEE THEYRE GOODIES ESPECALLY HOT CHICKLS.
OPTION 2 I AGREE SAYS A HOT CHICK.

I wondered whether to contact the Samaritans hotline or not, but they'd probably make a trip to the nearest bridge too if I told them my story. I glared at the screen, thinking to myself how there should be a special Hell reserved for those who submit their issues in block capitals. And another one with excruciatingly painful torture for those who confuse 'allowed' with 'aloud'. It was bad stuff.

I deleted a few random nations, but it didn't make me feel better. I turned off the computer and sloped off to watch the television. It was then, that moment, when I saw Mr. Monkhouse's face, that I screamed.

Could I get the recipe for those "Banana Fuck"s? It's my friend's 21st birthday today and I don't want him to survive the night.

*stops fondling self long enough to crumple explicit picture of Bob Monkhouse into a ball*

I feel so dirty now.

*shudder...*

Could I get the recipe for those "Banana Fuck"s? It's my friend's 21st birthday today and I don't want him to survive the night.

I don't actually know the details, I just know it's a drink my friend makes that's supposedly really tasty, and really potent. Vodka, banana liquor, and some kind of creme de coco or something chocolate.

*considers the next installment of the BNSMfH*

I don't actually know the details, I just know it's a drink my friend makes that's supposedly really tasty, and really potent. Vodka, banana liquor, and some kind of creme de coco or something chocolate.

*considers the next installment of the BNSMfH*

Hmm...sounds good. I'm assuming vodka, banana liquer, and probably one of those Godiva chocolate liquers.

Is this it?

2 oz Banana Liqueur
2 oz White Creme De Cacao
2 oz Light Cream

Shake vigorously. . .

It's depressing, but so is everything else on this Goddamn planet, especially Bob Monkhouse.


I knew that the mods had phearsome powahs, but returning comedic entertainers from the dead?

Is this it?

2 oz Banana Liqueur
2 oz White Creme De Cacao
2 oz Light Cream

Shake vigorously. . .

Not quite... I /know/ there's vodka in the mix.

Dude... what are you guys on? I've only been scared a handfull of times on NS. Getting booted from the UN, getting warned by 'Nationstates Moderators' about starting any more trends(Not my fault! I didn't know that Ebaums pics would be so popular! Honest!) and now this.

You Mods and Admins make me tingly inside. And not in a good way...

At least Melkor sems to like me. I even got invited to Arda by him.

At least Melkor sems to like me. I even got invited to Arda by him." Should we ... tell him ? "

']Not quite... I /know/ there's vodka in the mix.


ifyou want vodka in there....

add 16 oz of vodka. duh.



anyway: why did the mod leave in the 1st place?


and where did the topic that banned me go?

Is it right that I'm scared right now? :?

I dont know...



Whee, no one can see this!

" Should we ... tell him ? "
Tell me? If that be a veiled attempt of intimidation, I'm invulnerable to attack at the moment. Even by Melkor. All of my military, all of my ousted regime's military and most of AMF's military is in Crimmond. Despite the fact that there's widespread war and two citys are trashed, I'm perfectly safe! :D

Anyway... this still scares me. *shudder*

The Bastard Nationstates Moderator from HELL
Volume 3

Another day, another DEAT, another rabble-rouser quietly consigned to obilvion. I seem to have somehow gained power at work, as I got recently promoted. Nice, now I get a nice plush new office full of computer stuff and get to harass the interns!

I kick back and login to Nationstates while listening to the heartwarming litany of curses from down the hall. See, I snuck in early today for the sole purpose of... shall we say, modifying, my old keyboard. It looks like a plain old QWERTY board, but I took the liberty of rearranging the keys underneath. That poor intern is never going to be able to get that letter typed up. Music to my ears!

I cycle through my nations while flipping through the Evil Overlord's list (any real bastard's bible!), and find myself looking at a telegram. Basically crying out that I am evil, corrupted, subject to nepotism, blah blah blah revolution, some dead nation was their martyr, blah-di-blah.

Contemplating my options, I compose my reply:
Dear Holy Republic of the Nationstates Revolution,
Thank you for your input, it has been summarily noted and filed appropriately. For the record, your "martyr" nation was deleted for griefing and flaming and spamming, and in deleting him, I was merely carrying out my Max-given duty to uphold the rules of order of this wonderful website. If you don't like that, I strongly suggest you stop bothering the moderators and go find some other online game.

I neglect to mention that said martyr was the random DEAT of the day and then came back flaming, spamming, and so on in anger. I load this new guy in the mod centre and flag him for future reference. I also take the liberty of logging his incoming telegrams. After all, these little upstart revolutions should be flushed out while they're young, before they can gather any steam. I jot down the list of nations conspiring with this guy and decide to silence them without outright deleting them.

Like a ninja, I quietly approach each target from the shadow, and slip a modly blade between the ribs of each nation. Not dead, but not living either. Bleeding to death, you could say, with the inevitable death to come in 28 days. Did I mention I like the mod centre? So many ways to destroy a nation, and sometimes the person's soul along with it. Very pleasing.

I hear a frustrated shriek down the hall and a dampened explosion. It sounds like the CPU on my old machine just burned out in a big way. Fancy that.

~Reploid Seductions... the Bastard Nationstates Game Moderator... from HELL!

I deleted a few random nations,
Okay, now I'm scared.... :eek:

*Packs up and leaves for Pluto and puts a uber-force field around it*

You Mods and Admins make me tingly inside. And not in a good way...

Obviously there's something wrong with you then ^.^

Obviously there's something wrong with you then ^.^

Crimmond...it's ok man...we won't think less of you if you're gay...

Uh, and this is one of the reasons why I didn't join that union thing.

*cowers in fear* I'm a good boy, don't hurt me masters :(

The Bastard NationStates Moderator from Hell
Volume 4



28/01/05 - 14:20 - Merton College (of EVIL), London

Another dull and boring session in the computer labs. Having finished my Java project weeks before the other neanderthals will have something even resembling a completed program, I can afford to kick back and relax by persecuting a few forum-goers.
Just a matter of plugging in the USB pen drive and loading up FireFox to bypass the webfilter, and away I go.

First port of call, as always, is the moderator IRC channel, the very hub of our domain, the nexus of the tyrannical regime - where all our Evil Plans™ are devised. As is often the case, I arrive in the middle of a statwanking contest between the Game Mods, randomly deleting nations and ejecting UN members to look good at the next Mod Olympics. Milk0r Debrained and Mentalmacaw screwing up eachothers' nations... the usual stuff. Such trivial pursuits, I think; I have better prey in mind.
Load up the forum index in one tab and the moderator control panel in the other... who to ban first? Of course! Just copy and paste the names from the 'Last Post' column. They could do with a break from the forum anyway, always creating work for me and never showing any respect... ungrateful plebians.
I slip on my virtual BioHaz suit and prepare to wade into the stinking cesspit that is the General forum. Aaah... the sweet smell of fresh victims. Now to load up a few random threads and make with the random moderating. Move to the spam forum... delete that one... spam forum... spam forum... lock... delete... oooh! Someone daring to post nothing but a smiley in reply to a post: a most heinous crime indeed. Guess I'll toss that one into the mod lair for the GMs to savage.

Time to go check the Moderation forum to see who's complained. 3 complaint threads? Ah good. I just merge them all into one and post the standard 'Appeals can be made to the admin at this address...' line. Too bad those e-mails are deleted as soon as they reach the server. I give the names of those complaining to the DEAT-thirsty Reploid Seductions to add to her hitlist. That should teach them to question the Rule of Mod.






http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/sv/thumb/c/cf/180px-Josef_Stalin.jpg

Uncle Joe "Myrph" Stalin
Bastard NS Moderator from Hell

Aww.. Myrth, that wasn't that bad. You could at least have done some random thread splits and or merges. Taken down some polls or added some...

Random bannings is *so* passe. :p

more, please?



*hides*

more, please?



*hides*
You've learned the first rule of not getting DEATed!
Know when to duck!
:D

The Bastard Nationstates Moderator from HELL
Volume 5 - Diary of a PFY

Week One. Forum mod, bah. Three years as Mod, Senior Mod, Super Mod, and finally Admin on another major forum, and they've got me starting off as a PFY. Frisbacteria, a Pimply-Faced-Youth? What the hell, I've been known to hold my breath longer than Myrph's been alive. I can tough out a few months until they have the wisdom to bump me straight to Senior Game Mod. Like they say, getting in the door is the tough part.

Caught me by surprise, though. I was sitting around, minding my own business over in the NSwimpy (http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/Main_Page) IRC channel, just me and Groutergunchia picking out Eire Shamfake pages to edit, with the usual wanna-wimpy lusers hanging on our every word. All sudden-like, SalusaSuckUppus and Myrph come charging into the channel and drag me (metaphorically speaking, of course) over to the OMG Secrit! Modworld (http://obey.viopac.com/fubar). Threats and accusations were exchanged, just the usual banter, and I found myself a highly-respected Forum Mod. Yeah, right.

It's not so bad, actually. I got to playing around in the toolbox, found pretty much what I expected at first. Move Thread, Close Thread, Sticky Thread. Oh joy, rapture, this will be such a thrill. <yawn> Then I found the submenus hiding behind an iconbar. w00t! Looks like there might be something to do here after all. Let's go pick a random thread in General and try a few of these. Hmmm .... Eviscerate Topic, wonder what that does. Dayum! Three splits and what appears to be about 30 random deletions, and suddenly chaos erupts on the front page! I pop open the Decimate Page option, and true to the name, one in ten topics is soft-deleted. Too damn bad none of them were any of the Eviscerate spawn topics. What the heck. Let CatScanAndBan and TsarBane clean up the mess later. I've got some 'splorin' to do.

I pop down to Forum Seven (http://home.nc.rr.com/ezjtb/images/) and have a bit of a look-see. Kewl. Myriapod posted links to the Mod Centre (http://maclabbet.orebro.se/hal.html). Let's give 'em a shot. You do not have permission to access this page while using Internet Exploder. Get a real browser, you moron!I wasn't using Exploder, SalusaSuckUppus, you elitist pig! It was Operetta in emulation mode, fer Gawd's sake. Screw it. I'll move to FireFaux emulation mode. Fark. Still doesn't work. I guess they really don't want us lowly FM / PFYs in the Centre.

Exploring further, I run across a stash of technical docs from SalusaSuckUppus and [violent]. This is more like it! No password algorithms or anything, but some of the plans for the site. Looks like they're on their way to implementing RSP over TCP/IP in NationStates 2. Oh man, that's gonna rock! I've been following the industry news on Remote Strangling Protocol (http://insubordinate.net/404.html) in the trades, and it looks like they've finally got AOHell (http://www.rayowens.com/aol1mm.htm) and Comphack (http://welcome.hp.com/country/sk/sk/welcome.html) on board. People think those USB 2.0 slots are there on the front panel for 'convenience'. Ha! Wait 'til the extensionals come popping out when they try to post spam and pr0n. Gawddayum! Payback for all those years of tech support, built OEM into every new box. And NS 2 is gonna use it! And I'm gonna be a mod here!

Yeah, mebbe this won't be so bad. I might just like it here.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v488/frisbeeteria/fris/frisbacteria.gif

~ Frisbacteria ~ ... the Bastard PFY NationStates Moderator... from HELL!

I so have to see the RFC for the Remote Strangling Protocol. Oh, and bonus points for the PFY reference - doubt many people will catch that, but that's their loss. :D

(And if any IETF folks are reading this, 1 April isn't too far away....)

God, I don't know whether to laugh out loud or hide in fear.

Ohhh, like, wow, you guys ...

Totally Unsolicited Testimonial from a Satisfied Customer

Mrs T.N., of Derbyshire, writes:

"I used to have so much trouble RPing evil characters. My Drug Lord was a wimp and my Psychotic Dictator pasted flies' wings back on. Then a friend put me onto The Bastard Nationstates Moderator from HELL. Now all it takes is a quick copy and paste and I Rule The World! And best of all, nobody knows my secret! Thank you, thank you, Bastard Mods!"

I so have to see the RFC for the Remote Strangling Protocol.
That was excellent.

God, I don't know whether to laugh out loud or hide in fear.
Neither. Praise the Mods, and give them healthy sums of money, is probably your safest bet.

God, I don't know whether to laugh out loud or hide in fear.Fear is futile! Bring it on, Mods! Muahuahah!
(but please don't delete me)

On second thoughts, I'll run and hide somewhere...

The Bastard Nationstates Game Moderator from HELL!
Volume 6

Ugh, someone shoot me now! Or not... my hitlist is still several pages long.

I mind my own business, deleting nations, messing with stats... the same ol', same old. Then I heard from CatScanandBan and Myrph about this new revolution started offsite by Rockquarry. Some sort of haven for dead nations to bitch and whine about how unfair and evil the mods are and how they could run the game better than I do. HAH!

Curious, I check the Moderators Oppress People forums out. About three posts into MOP's rickety platform, I find myself resisting the urge to be violently ill. Or just violent. So much for my BS quota for the next decade, I mean, really! Goodwill toward players? Play nice? People ought to be nice? Player review? Geez, what drugs is Rockquarry on, and where might I get some? Everyone knows you can't be nice to the lusers! They're not even human! They're... well, they're lusers! Give them an inch and they'll take a bloody astronomical unit! (Which, I can assure you, is rather vastly in excess of a mile.) You can't be nice in this world! If I was "nice", would I be sitting in this plush office right now, bossing around the interns? Would I be Reploid Seductions the Game Moderator, She Who is Feared, She Who Wields the Oversized Butcher Knife of Deletion?

There's a reason I'm a bastard Game Moderator from Hell! (Aside from the fact it flows better than "Bitch Game Moderator from Hell". Sigh.) A moderator cannot be NICE, cannot treat the peon lusers with intelligence! Then they get all uppity and start saying how they want elections, they want the President to take out the corrupt regime, democracy and stupidity for all! Ugh... just the thought of democracy makes me feel sick.

So, MOP. I add several of the more vocal members of the offsite forum to my hitlist, at least, the ones who aren't already banned, DOSed, or otherwise no longer on the game. Conspiring off site, the clever fools. I load Rockquarry in the Centre and peruse his stats, pondering what to do with him. I settle for adding his telegram box to the log list and fiddle with his apathy and political freedoms to reflect my own twisted ideals. He will bear watching, that one. To delete him would be too blatant. I'll have to refer him up to SalusaSuckUppus and let the decidedly sick and twisted codemonkey have his way with the luser.

A few random deletions and some random ominous threatening Voice of Mod telegrams later, I feel much better!

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/claw-kun/evilmod4.jpg
~Reploid Seductions
~She Who is Feared, She Who Wields the Oversized Butcher Knives of Deletion
~The Bastard Nationstates Game Moderator... from HELL!

:D

Nice one!

Wow, you got a mention.

Loved it, Reppy.

/me hugs the Reploid. Gets killed, as usual.

Wow, you got a mention.

Loved it, Reppy.

/me hugs the Reploid. Gets killed, as usual.

It's not the first time... :)

The Bastard Nationstates Game Moderator from HELL!
Volume 7

Another day, another whiny fool stabbed to death upon the virtual blades of Reploid Seductions, She Who is Feared, She Who Wields the Oversized Butcher Knives of Deletion!

So Myrph or one of those lesser bastards let the tasklist backlog. I make a quick note to myself to teach whoever I feel is guilty for this lapse a lesson, and pull on the virtual hip-waders before slogging through the cesspool.

Let's see.... Task # whatever, "hey i let my county die off wud u revive it"

I look up the nation listed under the horrid crime against the English language and ponder what to do. Smiling, I revive the nation, but scramble the password. That fool can ponder the errors of his ways while he watches his old nation come to life, only to die a slow death 28 days from now. Listen well, lusers. Bastard moderators hate you all. But we reserve a special place for the ones who can't write at a high school level.

Task resolved, I move on. Task #666.6666666666667, "I think Textlandia and Gripesholm are UN multies. Could you check it out?" Oh hell, why not? I load up the nations in question and run the UN scans. Nothing, both are squeaky clean. Idiot. If you want to report UN multies, report ones that are multies, don't just pick two names from thin air and throw accusations! It wastes my time and makes me angry. Granted, I'm angry most of the time, but that's not the point. Suitably annoyed, I load Arachnial up in the Centre. I was promised UN multies to eject, and I WILL have them!

>>clicky-clicky!<<

So much for Arachnial's UN membership. Not to mention the UN memberships of his entire region. Ah, such a satisfying thing, to UN-castrate an entire region and leave it vulnerable and prone to invaders. Then when the invaders flock to it like maggots to roadkill, I sit idly by and wait for it and then.... Come on, say it with me now!

>>clicky-clicky!<<

And then their doom falls upon them. Nifty ploy, isn't it? Then when they come whining and complaining in the forums, I let CatScanandBan and Frisbacteria have some fun with them, while I continue to wreak havoc from the lofty vaults of the Mod Centre. The lowly bastard forum mods are making excellent progress in their training, while I'm on the subject of them. They're quite helpful in flushing out new targets for my hitlist. I don't know if they just want to kiss up to me that bad or if they just have that much free time, but who am I to argue? On the one hand, I get adored and admired and looked up to by my underlings. On the other, I get more nation names to fry! Win-win situation for yours truly.

I kick back in my chair, harass the interns over the intercom saying I want a cup of coffee. I listen as several sets of feet rush to the office kitchen to fulfill my desire in the futile hopes of gaining my favor (and that I might ensure that nothing... unfortunate... happens to their computers. Or anything else, for that matter.) Then while they're all fighting over who gets to bring me the caffeine, I waltz in and grab a soda instead. Ah... nothing quite like the sight of five or so young interns in the process of having their spirits broken. I'd like to think I've quite the knack for breaking in the newbies, really.

Upon my return to my office, I look back at the list. Task #i, by Psycho Boy. "More info on the griefing in the region Italian, blahblahblah" Oh god, that mess. I won't touch that with a ten foot pole, so I skip over that. Just like shuffling paperwork to the interns!

A few hours of enjoyable havoc later, and I leave off on the tasklist. Got to leave some stuff for the rest of the squad to play with. Myrph especially shows a dedication to being a bastard I haven't seen in a long time. He'll make a most useful apprentice, methinks...

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/claw-kun/evilmod3.jpg
~Reploid Seductions
~She Who is Feared, She Who Wields the Oversized Butcher Knives of Deletion
~The Bastard Nationstates Game Moderator... from HELL!

wOw i like the clicky clicky but um here why dont you borrow my straight jacket, and i send my phsyci, um i mean my friend by later to talk to you

*Abandons union, turns back on RTW, lurks in dark corners of forum, hoping for best*
If I wasn't so terrified of you Reploid, I'd recomend the site in my sig....make your interns lives slighty more jumpy by artufully decorating the office thus.

*Claps hand over mouth, and scurries away*

The Mods don't get to have all the fun. :D

http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=394390

The Bastard Nationstates Game Moderator from HELL!
Volume 8

Ah, lightly sun-crisped and nursing a bruised jaw, I return to my place of power, my domain that I rule with a digital fist!

While my computer boots up from having been neglected over this past weekend, I take the time to apply generous amounts of aloe and to pop a couple of painkillers. Did I mention my bruised jaw? Lemme tell you lusers- never ever try and haul a piece of driftwood with a klutzy partner. Getting cold-cocked by a log is not my idea of fun. Oh well. He plays Nationstates, and I think I rightfully owe him one for the black and blue bruise on the side of my face! I think I owe him several, actually. Yeah.

Having been gone for the weekend, I fully expect some stupid player to have telegrammed me. I login to my nation and feel the familiar eyebrow twitch of annoyance as I see a double-digit number on my screen indicating the quantity of the contents of my telegram box. Oh hell, it's probably a whole ton of those whiny "How do U bekum a game mod?" or "(!#*$^!(#*$^#(*^$ YOU!" telegrams.

With a grumble, I head over to the Mod Centre while checking the telegrams. Feeling a bit more bloodthirsty than normal, I respond to the game mod wannabes with variations of this:
In order to become a game moderator, you must first go through the Trials of Modhood. First, you must read the FAQs. Upon completing this task, you must be diligent and prove you have what it takes, and keep up on every thread in the forums. Including General and the roleplay forums. EVERY thread!

Once you have completed these tasks, if you must learn the punishments that are handed out, by feeling them yourself! Like how policemen are sometimes made to spray eachother with pepper spray, so they can better understand its effects. To pass the Trial of Deletion, create several UN nations, and use them to spam the forums. Telegram a moderator with the names of them and explain you are going through the Trial of Deletion. That moderator will then delete your nations.

After all this, there is one final task to become a moderator! You must pledge yourself to the Internet. The way to do this is to obtain a metal object- I suggest a fork. Then carefully strip some of the insulation on your computer's power cord. In order to become a game moderator, you must establish a direct bio-electrical connection with your machine and the Internet. Once the cord is prepared, firmly grasp your metal object in both hands, and apply it to the cord to complete the connection. And there you have it!

I briefly wonder how many of the modabees will actually fall for it as I go on to the less pleasant telegrams in my box. There's one from some guy named Zooch claiming that he is keeping an eye on me, mixed in with some other random gibberish. I respond that he may have an eye on me, but I have godlike dominion over him. To emphasize this point, I load him up in the Centre and insert a clip to his nation description that Reploid Seductions agents are holding his government hostage. I also screw up his stats for added effect. After all, his government can't function if the top brass are supposedly held captive!

Personal business caught up on, I head over to the forums for some actual mod biz. A quick spin through the forums reveals that the game didn't implode while I was away, in fact, some people dared to openly celebrate my absence! The nerve of them! So I load up the mod centre and forumban the revelers and send them stern warnings for flamebaiting before I move on. Some more whining from a baiting little bigoted luser about how all these people are soooooooo mean to him because he's a little bastard. I see that Myrph and Frisbacteria are on top of that, and let the lesser bastards handle it. A bit more of the warm fuzzies from that hippie RockQuarry, eh, not worth doing anything about. He's a useful pawn for pinpointing more dangerous rabble-rousers, actually. More stuff from MOP, bor-ring.

Ah-hah! Some reports from an aspiring bastard wannabe! I've let Appendixspa France live only because he supplies me with useful information for my target list. And he's only slightly annoying compared to a lot of these suckups. I skim through his reports and happily rain my special flavor of damnation upon the ones I feel merit it. A few deletions and UN ejections later, and then my jaw starts to smart again. Have I been at it that long?

Rudely reminded of my 'friend', I load up his nation Psoriasis in the Centre, and proceed to do some extremely brutal things to his stats. Beastiality is now legal, incest is encouraged, and his leading industry is now child pornography. THAT ought to reel in all sorts of flames and harassments, plus gobs of utter humiliation! Kyahahahaha! That'll teach HIM to sucker punch the Bastard Moderator from HELL with a log!

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/claw-kun/evilmod4.jpg
~Reploid Seductions
~She Who is Feared, She Who Wields the Oversized Butcher Knives of Deletion
~The Bastard Nationstates Game Moderator... from HELL!

The messiah has returned! :eek:

*watches gleefully*
It's nice to see this going again...

I insist you cease being so funny! I hate mod suck ups but credit is due where it is due. Well done for the great posts Reploid Productions, I have enjoyed reading them.

Myrth your post was like a Rolex copy, identical in every way, but not the real thing.

The Bastard Nationstates Game Moderator from HELL!
Volume 9

With a groan more befitting an enervated prisoner than a bastard moderator, I lumber to my computer, clad in my most comfortable bathrobe and fuzzy slippers, mug of tea in one hand, bottle of Dayquil in the other, mind threatening to fly away to some happy Lala Land of sleep deprivation and cold medicine highs.

I should have realized the signs. No mere case of allergies, but the first stirrings of a nasty head cold. Well, knowing it was coming or not, I'd still be languishing here with a headache, raspy voice, and stuffy nose, feeling sunburned, bruised, and more cranky than normal.

I click on the TV and watch the news while I login to my nation, idly noting a short clip about a bizarre string of suicides by electrocution across the country. The news claims its been attributed to some sort of weird suicide cult. (Hey, that works! Nationstates could be considered a cult after a fashion. Kyahahaha!)

A quick spin through my telegrams reveals nothing new, which makes me happy. The familiar eyebrow twitch of annoyance would probably only twinge at my headache, and I daresay I would rather avoid worsening that. A quick spin through the forums reveals mostly the usual banter, nothing that particularly strikes me as needing the attention of the Bastard Mod from Hell.

I hop over to the Centre and find the tasklist mostly caught up on aside from a couple of tasks still under review. Well, this is all peachy, but how am I supposed to be a bastard moderator without any material to work with?! Sure, there's the random DEAT of the Day, the randomly forumbanning lusers... but really, that's the instant ramen of bastard moderating. Enough to tide me over, but not what you could call fulfilling!

Another spin through the forums and a few random thread locks, I finally accept the obvious. There's nothing that requires the dire attention of the Bastard Game Moderator from Hell, or even the Bastard Forum Admin from Hell! Instead of grumbling about it, I decide to accept it as a blessing in disguise and take my cold back to bed. Maybe by morning my cold will subside and there will be something bastardly for me to do!

But for now, I think I'll let my mind go off to the aforementioned Lala Land of sleep deprivation and cold medicine highs. It's got to be better than reality at the moment!

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/claw-kun/evilmod3.jpg
~Reploid Seductions
~She Who is Feared, She Who Wields the Oversized Butcher Knives of Deletion
~The Bastard Nationstates Game Moderator... from HELL!

The Bastard Nationstates Game Moderator from HELL!
Volume 10

There are few things I hate worse than the players I have to deal with on a routine basis. They are few, but when they invoke my wrath, it is a thing of unspeakable horror. The subject of my ire, of course, is a coworker. The office cruiser, you could say, the sort who spends most of her time gossiping rather than working. The fact she's also my direct superior does little to soothe my hatred, either.

The day starts off unremarkably enough at work, until she calls me in to discuss my work ethics and such. She proceeds to chew me out on every minor little detail that she can get me for, all to make her look better in her superior's eyes. Every filing error, time wasted.... I want to be sick. She goes in and messes up my filing job, she gossips half the day (By contrast, I can multitask, so my surfing the web doesn't count.)

Time to do something about this pain in my very cute behind. I play the smile and nod routine until she releases me to chase down the secrtary for more gabbing. I eavesdrop on the conversation, some gossip about a new client, and take my chance, slipping into her office like the ninja I claim to be online. I need to do some recon if I intend to put the Business Manager in her rightful place.

Rifling through her desk turns up nothing useful as blackmail, and she doesn't have her email open on the computer screen. I almost dismiss the entire operation as a bust when I flick open another window on her computer. Something that could prove most useful!

She plays Nationstates.

Obviously she doesn't know my identity as the Bastard NS Game Mod from Hell, or she would not be so careless! I snag a box of files and make my exit, the picture of the helpless filling lackey, earning the approval of the corporate minion that I'm working so very hard. As soon as I'm back in my office, I shut the door, activate the static doorknob trap, and fire up my workstation. A few keystrokes later, I'm in the Centre and rifling through some very interesting information. And then, reading her telegrams, I hit pay dirt. I can barely repress the maniac cackle as I copy the entire thing, as well as the messages she's sent to people, and cue it to my printer. A quick search through the forums reveal what else she does on company time.

Now I simply bide my time until she next calls me into her office. Which, of course, happens the next day when she needs a handy excuse for why she doesn't have all of her work done. I grab my new weapons and report as ordered, barely keeping the evil smile off my face. She will know fear soon enough.

"Now, Stephanie, I keep finding mistakes in the filing, and you seem to be online instead of working-"

"So tell me-" I interrupt, holding up a sheet of paper with her telegrams printed neatly on it. "What is it exactly that a woman of your .... maturity... sees in furry fetishism?"

That stops her dead. "I have no idea what you're talking about." She lies unconvincingly.

Now I let the evil smile show. "I think these prove otherwise, ma'am." I flip through and hold up another sheet, this one of R rated forum posts that had to have been made while she was at work, going by the timestamps. "Just imagine how interested the boss would be in all this smut you post during work hours."

"I... I do no such thing!" She protests, realizing the futility of the action.

"This piece of rather graphic vampire on vampire on mortal on fuzzy forest critter using kitchen utensils storyline from your telegrams is particularly entertaining." I reveal yet another paper full of incriminating evidence.

"Wh-how? What do you want?!" She finally whimpers, the rusty gears starting to turn.

"Simple enough. You stop blaming me for your not getting work done, maybe treat me to lunch at that snazzy italian joint down the street fairly often, and don't pay attention to my surfing the Net at work. In exchange, I keep these messages between you, me, and your online lovers. Fair?" I smirk, knowing that it's an offer that she, at risk of sounding cliche, can't refuse.

"Y-yes. Lunch, surfing the Net, no blaming you... got it." She stammers, a light bulb finally coming on. "Wait, if you saw my Nationstates telegrams, then that means you-!" A look of abject horror crosses her face .

"You got it." I wink evilly, waving the papers to emphasize the point.

"The Bastard NS Mod from Hell-!"

"In the office, reading your telegrams, and looking forward to a VERY expensive lunch!"

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/claw-kun/evilmod4.jpg
~Reploid Seductions
~She Who is Feared, She Who Wields the Oversized Butcher Knives of Deletion
~The Bastard Nationstates Game Moderator... from HELL!

Great :D

Excellent....

::does the Mr Burns thing with fingers::

::ducks for cover to avoid the almighty Sword of Mod::

Great as usual!

Hillarious shit there

Bahaha, that's awesome! Thank you for making my day, nay, my week! :D

The Bastard Nationstates Game Moderator from HELL!
Volume 11

The Bastard Quiz
Are you bastard moderator material?

1. The moderators are:

A. Wise, fair, unbiased volunteers who are there to resolve problems in a friendly, efficient manner
B. A group of volunteers who keep the game running
C. A bunch of people who deal with all the crap the players generate.
D. A bunch of cynical people who take great pleasure in resolving problems in the most violent manner possible. After all, violence is fun!

2. You get a telegram from a player complaining about their UN proposal, "I want pie!". You:

A. Respond and explain to the player the exact reasons for the proposal's deletion from the queue and refer them to the United Nations forum.
B. Respond and tell the player to go look in the forum to find out how to write proposals.
C. Ignore the telegram completely.
D. Kick them out of the UN and respond that they won't have to worry about UN proposal problems anymore.

3. While browsing the forums, you come across what can only be a suicide-by-mod attempt. You:

A. Slap a forum ban and a stern warning to the offender. It was his first time breaking the rules.
B. Delete the nation. After all, he's flooding the forums with smiley spam, goatse, and tubgirl! MUST PROTECT THE SITE!
C. A, and then you load the offender in the mod centre and scramble the password so the net effect is the same, but without giving the luser what they wanted.
D. C, and then you look through his telegrams, find all his puppets, and deliver total and utter flaming death to the lot! And his friends for good measure.

4. Some luser sends you a telegram whining about some imagined bias in one of the daily issues and demands the issue be altered. You:

A. Respond and explain why there is no bias, why the issues are exaggerated, and why they can't be changed after they've been put in the game.
B. Respond with a polite sentence to the effect of "Tough cookies, cope."
C. Ignore the telegram completely.
D. Look through his stats and find the least little infraction to meet the two-strikes qualifier for deletion. Then carry out the sentence.

5. While looking through the Tasklist, you come across a long-winded complaint that seems to be utterly frivolous after you spend at least ten minutes looking into it. You:

A. Telegram the complaintant and inform them their complaint is not actionable.
B. Chuck it into the "Ignored" bin
C. B, and then see if the guy is a UN multi or has something to be warned for.
D. C, and then fake something more severe. Go for the deletion! DEAT DEAT DEAT!

6. Someone requests how you got to be a mod. Several times. You:

A. Respond and helpfully explain the process, and point them to the Moderation forum to be helpful in hopes of proving their mettle.
B. Ignore the telegram.
C. B, and then scramble their password.
D. You respond with a lengthy (and fictional) process one must go through to become a mod, and said process includes a computer power cord or application of a fork to an electrical socket.

7. You discover that someone you are... not terribly fond of (ex-lover, coworker, boss, dumb jock, etc) plays Nationstates. You:

A. Strike up conversation with said person about Nationstates in hopes of fostering better communication.
B. Ignore the fact. It's a big game, the odds the person will cross your path are slim.
C. Find out his screenname through small talk and read his telegrams.
D. C, only you find out the nation name via a daring commando raid on the person's home/office/laptop, log his telegrams, and use the information you find for blackmail.

8. A coworker is found dead by apparent suicide in his office. The most likely cause of this is:

A. Stress and depression brought about by long hours of work, poor relationships, and a feeling of hopelessness.
B. His lover dumped him. Maybe?
C. You don't know, and don't really care. He was a waste of carbon.
D. You deleted his roleplay nation, resulting in A.

9. You catch wind of a so-called NS reform group. While their efforts are entirely futile, they are riling the sheep up, which in turn gets on your nerves. You:

A. Listen to their suggestions and try to implement a few of them.
B. Listen to their suggestions and explain why they aren't practical, barely keeping from flaming them to a crisp.
C. Flat out tell them "NO." and threaten to lock future threads on the subject.
D. Look through the ringleaders stats in the mod centre, deleting the ones you snag rules violations for, making up violations for the ones who already have a warning, log incriminating telegrams, and scramble their passwords. All for the sake of keeping the game running smoothly!

10. A well-known invader group and a well-known defender group have been firing volley after volley of accustations at eachother regarding a recent skirmish in some no-name region. Most of the claims are entirely non-actionable, and you KNOW most of them are pure fabrication. To end the debacle, you:

A. Establish a moderated dialogue between all parties, and spend a great deal of time sorting out who exactly did what, who actually broke the rules, and what punishments are being handed out, and why. All with a polite, sympathetic smile.
B. You sort out who broke the rules and hand out warnings accordingly.
C. You pass it off to another mod who you claim is more familiar with the case in question.
D. You decimate all parties, letting the modbombs fall upon the lusers like a gentle rain! That is, if by "gentle rain" you mean "nuclear barrage". THAT should shut them all up!

Scoring
Mostly As: You're a green one, aren't you? Fresh to the game, perhaps, or just a nice person overall. Moderating is not for you. Go forth and join the sheep!
Mostly Bs: Still pretty green, but starting to get a little thorny at the edges. With a lot of effort you could make the cut as a bastard moderator. You must migrate beyond your piddly annoyance with the players though, and embrace rage!
Mostly Cs: Now we're getting somewhere! No longer blind by the naive assumptions that mods are here to help players and be nice, you have begun to properly embrace the bastard arts! You could qualify as bastard forum mod material!
Mostly Ds: Ah, now YOU'VE got that inherent evil, that bastardly quality! Willing to apply the nuclear option where a warning shot across the bow would suffice, you have no good will for the lusers, and few things give you so great a joy as cutting bloody swatches of carnage across multiple regions, breaking people's souls, all for your amusement! Are you sure you aren't already on staff?

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/claw-kun/evilmod3.jpg
~Reploid Seductions
~She Who is Feared, She Who Wields the Oversized Butcher Knives of Deletion
~The Bastard Nationstates Game Moderator... from HELL!

Ah.... Hehehe. Excellent work!
Thanks for this piece of great comedy.

Congrats; one gathers from this that something's put you in a good mood. Your costume was a success?

Score: D × 8, C × 2.

Yeah, I'm already on the squad.

2 Cs? Sal, I'm disappointed, you're getting soft.

Congrats; one gathers from this that something's put you in a good mood. Your costume was a success?

See, that's what I get for trying to sound like a cool insider. Having re-read your blog, thanks to Euroslavia (clicky) (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=428030), I now see the costume hasn't been displayed yet. So something else has put you in a good mood ... (shudders to think what it might have been).

On the quiz I got mostly Cs and Ds... Does that mean I'll become a moderator? Surely not. :eek:


;)

See, that's what I get for trying to sound like a cool insider. Having re-read your blog, thanks to Euroslavia (clicky) (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=428030), I now see the costume hasn't been displayed yet. So something else has put you in a good mood ... (shudders to think what it might have been).I know! I know!


"The Extraordinarily Idiotic Nation of ******* is a tiny, evil nation, remarkable for its compulsory vegetarianism. Its cynical, compassionate population of 2 million are ruled by an oligarchy of the least intelligent citizens among them, who make ridiculous and contradictory laws for no reason except to annoy people.

The omnipresent, corrupt, conservative, moralistic government concentrates mainly on Law & Order, although Defence and Bunny Killing are secondary priorities. The average income tax rate is 125%, and much higher for the wealthy. Private enterprise is illegal, but for those in the know there is a slick and highly efficient black market in Rude Smilie Manufacturing.

Elections have been outlawed, voting is compulsory, and the death penalty is administered for every single crime. Crime is crippling, despite the fact that it is difficult to make it through a day without breaking one of the nation's many laws. *******'s national animal is the hamster, which frolics freely in the nation's many lush forests, and its currency is the human."

I was starting to wonder about that... :D

Nice take off of the original. For anyone who doesnt already know, the original BOFH ( Bastard Operator From Hell ) can be found here, in all his sadistic glory :)

http://bofh.ntk.net/Bastard.html

Well, the costume was finished up yesterday, actually =p And most of my BNSMfH posts are the result of bad days when I need to vent off some violent urges =p (Manning the helldesk at work the past four days and reading BOFH all day certainly sets the stage for a post!)

5 D's, 3 C's and 2 B's. Yagggggggggg. ;)

I got 9 D's and 1 C, but I already knew I was evil lol.

These are the funniest things I have read this has just made my day. I hope that I will not have to feel the wrath of the overlord mods *hides*

I got mostly C's. Oddly enough, I usually get C's on the BOFH quizzes too.

I suppose there's a remote possibility that Reploid Productions is actually Simon Travaglia in disguise, but that would be too freaky for words and would involve major IP spoofing. ;)

The Bastard Nationstates Game Moderator from HELL!
Volume 11

The Bastard Quiz
Are you bastard moderator material?



Apparently not.

C
A
C
A/B
A
A or B
B
A
B
B

I’m such a sap, huh? :D

I got mostly C's. Oddly enough, I usually get C's on the BOFH quizzes too.

I suppose there's a remote possibility that Reploid Productions is actually Simon Travaglia in disguise, but that would be too freaky for words and would involve major IP spoofing. ;)

Not to mention a sex change, since I doubt Mr. Travaglia has certain pieces of equipment that I do ^_~

Well, the costume was finished up yesterday, actually =p And most of my BNSMfH posts are the result of bad days when I need to vent off some violent urges =p (Manning the helldesk at work the past four days and reading BOFH all day certainly sets the stage for a post!)


So that means no mention of LE whatsoever then :|

:p ;)

All D's and C's! Does that mean you're closer to considering me? :p Joking of course, I'd never make it.

The Bastard Nationstates Game Moderator from HELL!
Volume 12

Freshly returned from four days of wild anime partying, followed up by two weeks of exacting revenge on the Masquerade judges, I return to my familiar computer and prepare to rain hellfire and damnation once more! (This is why you don't pick a bunch of dancing girls in sailor skirts over a Bastard Moderator's super-awesome giant robot!) Look ye all, and know despair, your dark messiah hath returned!

Well, well, what's this? I flip through the secret forum. We have a new recruit among the ranks, do we? I look up the new guy and stifle a groan. The kid's so green he could be mistaken for someone's lawn. He's being HELPFUL to the lusers! In the Almighty BOFH's name, he's even being COURTEOUS! To lusers!

This can NOT stand. The new guy needs to be trained in the bastard arts, and the sooner, the better. Before the sheep start thinking this is how the entire squad ought to behave. I quickly load up the new guy in the Centre and commence the normal newbie mod hazing ritual!

>>clicky-clicky!<<

There we go, now he's got a suitably obnoxious pretitle! "The 'Fetching Reploid Seductions a Danish' lands of Uraslave"! A few more clicks and he's got a motto to match!

... Damn, now I have a craving for a danish.

Forging ahead, I drop Uraslave a line and pull him aside in the secret chat room and deliver unto my new PFY the sweet temptation.

"Uraslave, you have much to learn of the arts of Bastard Moderating. Come to the Bastard side, and become my apprentice. I promise you that you'll become stronger, more bastardly, and better equipped to cope with the daily trials the sheep put forward to stymie you."

It's been awhile since I personally took a fledgling moderator under my dark wings, to instruct one new-come to darkness in the Bastard arts. I think I shall enjoy passing on my bitter wisdom to the new generation.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/claw-kun/evilmod4.jpg
~Reploid Seductions
~She Who is Feared, She Who Wields the Oversized Butcher Knives of Deletion
~The Bastard Nationstates Game Moderator... from HELL!

The Bastard Nationstates Game Moderator from HELL!
Volume 13

I stroll into work, feeling most pleased at the prospects of having my own PFY to train in the Bastard arts, and run smack into the Business Manager- my direct superior. I stop up short for a few reasons. One being that I'm not a frail old twig- simply pushing past the woman might break something and I don't feel like having to deal with the boss and the fracas that a workman's comp claim would cause. Two being that since I put her in her place, the old woman's given me a wide berth and all but revering the ground I walk on. This seeming defiance was decidedly unusual.

"Good morning." I state flatly, testing the waters. "I feel like Italian for lunch, how 'bout you?"

Normally her immediate reply, laced with just a touch of pure terror would be "Oh, certainly! My treat!"

Instead, she straightens up just a touch. "I'm going to that new cafe down the street for lunch with a friend of mine."

Then she struts off like our "agreement" had never happened! My Bastard intuition tells me something big is up, and merits my most dire of attentions, possibly even reinforcements. Luckily, she had already given me places to start. I stealthily replace the coffee cream with my "special" blend, since I know she loves her coffee with cream in it. Once that kicks in, she'll be otherwise occupied, as I had, in true Bastard fashion (Praise be to BOFH!) removed all the toilet paper in the ladies bathrooms. That will give me sufficient time to do some recon of her office.

About a half hour later I hear pounding footsteps in the hallway, and peer out of my office just in time to see her whip around the corner in an obviously desperate quest for a restroom. Excellent! Seizing my chance, I scamper into her office and check the computer. This time she has her email open, and it doesn't take long to locate the source of her newfound confidence in the face of the Bastard Moderator from Hell. A dialogue with a friend of hers who happens to be a corporate lawyer, full of sentiments that she doesn't have to take being blackmailed at work, etc etc. That gives me a name now!

Something must be done with Mr. Coworker Abuse Scandal, so I return to my office and ring up a friend of mine.

"Hello?"

"Hey Corgi, it's me."

"Oh, hey Steph! What's up?"

"I need a key for a stubborn lock."

At this point you may be wondering what exactly is going on. Corgi is a military intelligence guy. Obligatory bad joke aside, he's quite good at his job. We've developed quite the code for exchanging information. I'm rather proud of it. "I need a key for a stubborn lock." translates to "I've got a problem and need some intel on the problem. Can you provide?"

"You sure seem to have problems with locks, don't you?" Translation: "Who's the problem?"

"Yeah, a visitor named Hamid Bin Haji locked his keys in his car, and he's got a lunch appointment." Translation: "I need info on Hamid Bin Haji, and I need it FAST."

"Sucks to be him." Translation: "Gimme a sec, I'm looking him up."

"Sure does. So, how're things for you?" Translation: "Standing by."

"Oh, not much. Was at the shooting range yesterday." Translation: "Hamid Bin Haji is a middle-aged ethnic minority."

"Oh?" Translation: "Go ahead."

"Hell yeah. Blasted the crap out of the target!" Translation: "He's from the Middle East."

"Nice!" Translation: "Excellent. What else?"

"One of the guys in my unit accidentally set a box of ammo on fire... that's what he gets for smoking around gunpowder." Translation: "File says he's already been flagged for anti-American tendancies. He's going to go to a certain Cuban resort, isn't he?"

"That'll teach him alright." Translation: "You know it. Anything else?"

"Yeah, sure as hell did! Y'know, we haven't gotten together in awhile. You wanna do lunch sometime this week?" Translation: "Nothing useful, sorry. Wanna do lunch sometime this week?"

"Sure thing, how's Thursday for you?" No translation required.

"Great!"

I hang up the phone and giggle. My earlier trick to gain access to the Business Manager's office will serve me well- she'll be occupied and doubtlessly late to her lunch meeting. I check the clock and head out for the rendevous, stopping off at the local market for a small bag of flour that I empty into my "special occasions" backpack.

Some time later, the Business Manager comes up, a baffled look on her face at all the police activity. I smile and wave her over. "Fancy meeting you here!"

She stops, like a deer in the headlights. Slowly, like a condemned prisoner walking up to the gallows, she joins me among the confused throng. "What happened?"

"You wouldn't believe it!" I gush. "I popped on over here for a quick bite and was chatting with a nice Middle Eastern man, when all of the sudden the police showed up and hauled him away! Something about an anthrax scare! I could hardly believe it!"

I neglect to mention that I had lured the guy into a conversation that could be completely misinterpreted as something sinister, nor that I had called in an anonymous tip from the pay phone at the place about a suspicious looking guy holding a bag with white powder in it.

She knows she's screwed. Her newfound courage visibly fails her as she accepts that she can't outwit the Bastard Moderator from Hell. "So what now?"

I beam. "This place is gonna be out of action the rest of the week. How about Italian?"

"I suppose. My treat?"

I clap her across the shoulder all friendly-like. "You're too kind! By the way, I've read your latest chapters. Really into your... work... aren't you?"

She pales considerably at the reminder I've seen her smutty roleplays, and nods glumly. Honestly, you'd think after the first time I caught her out, that she would stop posting that stuff, at least from the office. I guess she's just that addicted.

To Nationstates or really kinky cybersex, I don't know. I don't WANT to know.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/claw-kun/evilmod3.jpg
~Reploid Seductions
~She Who is Feared, She Who Wields the Oversized Butcher Knives of Deletion
~The Bastard Nationstates Game Moderator... from HELL!

The Bastard Nationstates Moderator from HELL!
Volume 14

I woke up from a horrible nights sleep. The neighborhood dogs were out extremely early, and their incessant barking woke me up.

One of these days, I'll make them pay.

Meanwhile, I jumped on the computer and logged into IRCrap only to find that every channel I was in was dull, as usual. The only conversations that actually go on is a bunch of n00bs discussing their own wankings. It seemed like another boring day til Reploid Seductions, queryed me out of nowhere and told me to come to the OMG SEKRIT M0D CH4NN3L!!111 (http://obey.viopac.com/fubar). I immediately entered the channel, only to find that almost all of the moderators were there. Within a few seconds, insults flew. There was absolutely no way that I was going to let their insults continue, so I threatened to put links to ebaumsworld, referral games, goatse, and even tubgirl in all of my stickies. That was enough to calm them down and bring them to the discussion table.

At that point, CatScanandBan regretably offered me a position as a Moderator. I didn't want to sound rude, so I accepted the offer while cursing under my breath.

This means that I'll actually have to do work around here.

Almost immediately, the forums went into havoc. Posts being posted ahead of time, and threads were falling into disorder with two seperate forum links that were posting at different times. The entire staff, along with the entire encompass of players were fooled already. If only they knew the truth... The mastermind behind it all was me! I can't believe that everyone was so gullible to think that it was a Jolt problem.

This was gonna be too easy...

Once I entered the forums, I immediately went to General. Everyone knows that this place is filled with rulebreakers. I eagerly start handing out forum bans here, warnings there, threats everywhere. Soon, the entire forum would know not to mess with me. Within the hour, a few complaints were posted in the Moderation forum. While distracting the moderators over IRCrap, I deleted the threads, and forum-banned the complainers. They needed to be silenced, to prevent my advancement up to the administration position of Nationstates, next to [violent] herself.

My next mission was to go into the roleplaying forums, and mess with some of the nations that didn't like me. I immediately went into a thread created by Youthia, and changed the title from "Factbook of Youthia" to "F1ND Pr0N H3R3!!11", after which I replaced his maps with a few... interesting pictures. Let's just say you won't find him around the forums anymore.

This'll teach him to mess with Uraslave...

Under the apprenticeship of Reploid Seductions, I will begin to understand all of the ways of a true Bastard NS Moderator and will seek out the darkness from within! It had become quite obvious to most.... no, all... that Uraslave had finally become a Bastard Nationstates Moderator from Hell!

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v492/Euroslavia/deal.jpg
~Uraslave
~Evil Forum Mod of Doom and Hellfire! and cookies
~The Bastard Nationstates Moderator ...from HELL!

Excellent, Euro! That was so good I had to respond with one of my own. :)

By the way, I sent that list you wanted via telegram.

OOC: Haha! Good laughs.

Oh, and in the morning, I scored mostly A's and B's. :(

However, when I took it not five minutes ago, I got straight D's. :)

"The feeling of having no power over people and events is generally unbearable to us--when we feel helpless, we feel miserable. No one wants less power; everyone wants more. In the world today, however, it is dangerous to seem too power hungry, to be overt with your power moves. We have to seem fair and decent. So we need to subtle--congenial yet cunning, democratic yet devious.

---Unknown"

This is turning out to becoming spooky... The kind and caring mod we know as Euroslavia turning into a.... Bastard NS Moderator from HELL!

*runs away screaming*

Seriously, it's awsome! Keep it up!

The Bastard Nationstates Moderator from HELL!
Volume 15

I rubbed my eyes wearily, and scratched myself in places men only scratch when they're sure no-one's looking. I started up NationStates and cast an idle eye over the telegrams that had amassed over night:

Dear Sir/Madam, I couldn't help but notice when looking over an issue you had edited that you neglected to mention certain fiscal policies that are quite prevalent in my area where we

I didn't bother reading the rest. It was a self-evident nutcase wanting a piece of my issue-editing glory. I deleted the telegram, then his nation, and then the nations of all those he had ever loved or cared about. Feeling a bit more pleased , I logged into the issue editing room and prepared to do another day's work. But then I noticed in the log that Reploid Seductions had deleted one of the issues I had myself submitted.

For a few moments I lost myself.

When I found myself again, I found my computer hurled to the other side of the room. The desk was overturned and the window was smashed letting in the salty air of the seaside that I lived near. There was some blood spattered on the walls which, after a brief moment of investigation, I discovered to belong to a salesperson who had knocked at the door during my... upset.

I scratched my head and picked up the computer which appeared to have miraculously survived. Curiously, I peered at the log. It seemed I had deleted Reploid Seductions' nation, whereupon she had restored it, deleted my nation, and changed my motto to "Don't ask me, I only masturbate here". I growled under my breath and decided to deal with it later. I need to take my anger out in more constructive ways.

A few brief clicks later and I pushed a new issue into the game. Anyone using this issue would find their population reduced to -5 billion and change their national animal into a 'wanking baboon'. This pleased me, but I did wonder what would happen if negative citizenry were to meet normal citizenry. They'd probably do something totally inexplicable for citizens. Stop believing in their newspapers or something.

I relaxed in my chair and stared up at the ceiling. The salesman's head was embedded there. It was dripping. Sighing, I got up. Cleaning, whether in a virtual environment or in the real world, would always be horribly messy. Especially when brains were involved.

~ Sirroco, the bastard moderator and arsehole issue editor from HELL!

ohgod.

I think I'm going to go crawl in a hole and hide somewhere now.

And I will never be a salesperson.

The Bastard Nationstates Moderator from HELL!
Volume 16

I load up the mod centre, the sweat trickling down my spine. Damned humidity. If there is anything worse than being stuck for over 6 hrs a day with sweaty, whiney, mouthbreathing fools – euphemistically referred to the world over as teenagers – then I am not aware of it. I figure no matter what, I’ve got to be going to heaven – not because I’m an Elect or any such nonsense, but because I’ve already put in my time in hell.

Oh, right, there IS something worse – signing into the forums. Yeah, being a game m0d has kept me out of the unwashed masses in General, but one look is all that’s needed to see that the natives are in need of a smackdown, Katscanandban style.

I read the first whine from some n00b. “Rottonia is making fun of me on the Regional Massage Board – make her stop!”

Easy enough. I delete Rottonia – she’s been a pain in my ass ever since I’d come to the site, and this is just the excuse I need. That done, I post to the RMB, “It’s MESSAGE. A massage is something YOU’LL never get in your pathetic little life. Oh and BTW – want some cheese to go with that whine?” I stick a warning in his file about spamming just so if the squealer makes another report, my fellow mods will do my dirty work for me and DEAT him.

Uh oh. I check – yup. Frisbacteria is checking through some very familiar tasks – trying to catch me extracting my vengeance on people I just plain don’t like and can't ban from my IRC channel because, like cowards, they won't come to be dissected. If word of that ever got back to Reploid Seductions, it would be a Very Bad Thing Indeed.

What to do, though, what to do?

I make a few phone calls. Yeah, totally unscrupulous, but I know who some of my students are on NationStates. I bribe them with visions of passing grades and have them create as much havoc as possible – griefing regions, spamming, flaming, UN multis – you name it, they’re there. As I start working through the GHP requests that have suddenly quadrupled, I know – the nations I killed for personal reasons and their complaints will be buried under a ton of complaints that all of us will have to work on just to keep things at a semblance of sanity. I quietly tag all THOSE ignored, then tackle the tasklist, heroically restoring and slaying nations, left and right. I keep that up for about eight hours – I never sleep, anyhow.

Maybe I'll get the gold in a couple categories in the mod Olympics…..

Ohh, very nice. I like it.

*contemplates "encouraging" her students to play NS*

150 people under my command.... :D

:D
Nice one!
:eek:
Sandpit?
Sandpit!
Is it ... you?

*admires the evilness from afar*

The Bastard Nationstates Game Moderator from HELL!
Volume 17

I quietly seethe, turning my foul attention on the telephone that has been the bane of my existance all day. Due to some strange twist of fate, the usual secretary/helldesk monkey is out sick, and I've been tagged for substitute duty. Allow me to elaborate. I have to answer the phones, take messages, be civil and polite and make annoying small talk with clients. I do not like this, for they are nothing more than regular lusers, only encountered in the flesh instead of in the digital domain where my will rules all! Luckily, the phone accidently slipped from the desk and in a phenomenal instance of chance, every seam and screw in the device shattered on impact. Truly, a shoddily made machine.

Speaking of which, every cloud has its silver lining, and today's is that I can devote all the time I'm not on the phone to surfing the Net and taking care of the lusers on Nationstates, and tending to my latest means of killing time that isn't spent in killing accounts.

"Sit!" I order into the microphone of my DS. "SIT!"

DEAT, a wonderfully adorable dark colored Siberian Husky with a spiked collar stares out of the screen at me, tail wagging. Finally, the little creature sits. "Good DEAT!" I cry, running the styles back and forth over the digital dog's head. I have a number of Nintendogs, all of which I care for like they were my own children: DEAT the Husky, Forumban the Beagle, Modbomb the Pug... you get the picture, surely?

While I take Modbomb for a walk (and modbomb a few random players), I hop onto IRC to check the status of Uraslave, my PFY.

>How are things today?
Uraslave> Okay, I guess. But is it always necessary to go so far in cowing the players?

I sigh. He's made progress, but he's still a little too green. I'll have to teach him better.

> Yes! They aren't even human! They're lusers, and lusers must be properly handled!
Uraslave> By "properly handled", you mean-?
> Cowed, humiliated, blackmailed, extorted, and then banned or deleted as the fancy takes you. They are stupid creatures, and have to be forcibly taught not to bother us!
Uraslave> They can't be /that/ stupid, can they? I mean, yeah, they're pretty dumb, but...
>They can be that stupid. They can be stupider. Take the stupidest thing you can think of, and multiply it by a factor of several fuckjillion.

I pop in to the General forum and the Moderation forum to track down some suitable tidbits to prove my point, and post several links of choice idiocy to the chat room. Then I bathe Modbomb and take Forumban out for her walk while I wait for my PFY's response.

Uraslave> Wait... "Ask a Crossdressing Liberal Conservative Jewish Nazi Lesbian in a Man's Body..."? It's just a parody, right?
> No. "Ask a Deleted Nation..." is the parody I started. I delete each nation that posts. That one is legit.
Uraslave> ... What about "Jolt hakkd my computer! Teh 4ms wont work!"?
> Definately legit. Look at that guy's post history.
Uraslave> Alright...

Forumban walked, I go and forumban a few users at random and watch what I can only assume is the stunned silence as Uraslave peruses the worst of what the unwashed sheep have to offer.

Uraslave> ARGH! They are stupid! They are beyond stupid! Who let them out of their holding cells and permitted them unsupervised use of a computer?!
>THAT'S the spirit! Feel the hatred! Let the dark rage build and burn through you! You hate the lusers! You want to abuse them! You want them to FEAR you! Not just some piddly wannabe called ph34r. You want unbridled TERROR to run before you and herald the doom you bring to the unwashed hordes!
Uraslave> RAWR!

I flick over to the forums while stroking DEAT with the stylus in a suitably evil bastardly manner. With a wicked grin, I watch Uraslave go on a rampage through the forums, locking and deleting threads and forumbanning at random.

While Uraslave has his fun, I pop onto my bastard forum admin account, [reploidseductions], and suddenly kill Ura's forum mod powers. He's got the anger, now I just need to gently reinforce how to properly apply it.

"Yes.... look at how well my PFY is developing, DEAT." I whisper to the DS microphone. DEAT barks and wags his tail while I finish hiding all the screws the I had removed from the phone before it took its tragic plunge earlier.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/claw-kun/evilmod4.jpg
~Reploid Seductions
~She Who is Feared, She Who Wields the Oversized Butcher Knives of Deletion
~The Bastard Nationstates Game Moderator... from HELL!

Deviously evil... Nintendogs is just cruel and unusual punishment.

The Bastard Nationstates Game Administrator from HELL!
Volume 18

"You can put those tanks right over there."

The workers seem very scared to be down here in my office. Maybe they've heard rumors about me? Nah. More likely they've just heard the truth. No matter. Just as soon as this Halon system is rechanged, I can relax. I just can never settle back with the server unprotected like this. I mean, what if somewhere were to start poking around and had no way to "accidentally" set off the fire suppression system if they found my "backups."

I lean back in my chair and pretend to check my email. The mirror on my monitor carefully frames the workers. I hate to admit it, but I've been bored recently. After I accidentally crashed the server by filling it up with pirated MP3s the second time, [violent] started to get wise and has been watching me.

In fact, is that? No .... She wouldn't do that to me ...

I get up casually and wander over to the tasklist, stirring up dust as I go. I pretend to look at the tasks (I see that Reploid Seductions has been training her PFY, Uraslave, well) while out of the corner of my eye I find what I was looking for: a camera. [violent]'s been spying on me again! I thought that she would have learned after the Mounties came after her for threatening the Prime Minister. (Then again, maybe it wasn't a coincident that the next day my decoy credit card was maxed out.) I sit back down.

I can't just disable the camera, she'd notice. And I can't redirect it to displaying random General threads again, I don't want to have to clean my office (though I must admit that the redirected sewage pipe into my cappachino maker was brilliant). She's just watching me too closely. I need to figure out some way to distract her. I glance back at the tasklist (it's visible now that I blew off some of the dust). Uraslave is causing problems, but not enough. Maybe it's time for me to get my own PFY?

"Ok, sir, that's it."

I look back at the workers. Damn, I got distracted and hadn't been watching them. The halon looks like it's been installed properly, but something doesn't seem right. I scan the network. A tap?! [violent] actually tried to tap me by bribing a few workers? Now that's just not cricket.

"Looks good to me. Now you just need to disable the CO2 system."

"CO2? Why is there a CO2 system in here?"

"Well, I couldn't just leave the servers unprotected, now, could I?" I kick out the doorstop and watch the server-room seal itself. "After all, someone might come in and tamper with the network." (I live for that look of dawning realization.)

'But the controls are out there? How are we supposed to disable it?"

*smile* I hit the button discharging the CO into the server room (it's disabled now...). They start passing out. "Oh, did I say CO2? I mispoke. I just couldn't afford that extra oxygen on our tight budget, but the salesman told me that CO would work just as well."

*sigh* Another day, another body to dispose of. I really need to find a better way to spend my time. Maybe I should get my own PFY...

SalusaSuckUppus

I think I'm gonna DEAT laughing.

The Bastard Nationstates Forum Moderator from HELL!
Volume 19

I really do need to get a more exciting job." I thought as I folded clothing at Hollister, in one of the most prestigious malls in America. "Something more ...devious." as I finished off the last pile of clothes in Girls 1, the busiest room of the store. I stood up and walked right into my boss, Nick. He started to speak as I started to roll my eyes. Probably another lame speech or something.

"We're going to need you to work as sales on Friday and Saturday next week, in the morning. We really need more people."

I paused for a few seconds. Damn it. I don't wanna actually have to deal with... customers.

My boss turned around again and pointed to one of the piles on the table.
"Fix that pile over again. The top shirt is a quarter of an inch off from what it should be."

Nick walked to the backroom, practically skipping all the way there. Part of me just wanted to put my foot out, and send him down to the floor, but alas, I needed this job. I resulted to sabotaging other peoples' efforts in folding their clothes by purposely messing up their piles while they weren't looking.

It would do, for now. I thought.

The time was 2a.m., and I was getting more tired by the minute. It seemed like the day would never end! Finally, Nick walked back out of the backroom, after having a long conversation with one of the other employees.
Typical. Other people don't have to do crap around here, and they don't get punished for it, while I'm over here making up for the work that they didn't do.

"Alright, time to go! Everyone finish up their work quickly!" as my boss spoke over the Intercom.

That voice... it's so cheerful. It makes you want to stab your ears, and hope you become permanently deaf.

I finished up another pile of clothing in someone elses' area, who happened to also be standing around, chit-chatting with another employee. Thank goodness it was time to leave. If they had been told to stay another hour, well, I'm afraid of what would have really happened. We all walked together out to our cars in the parking structure and went our seperate ways. Finally, it was time...


I came home and gave my puppy a bite to eat, as well as a new bone to chew. This was all part of the routine in having her grow up as her own little troublemaker, especially to the mailman, but that's a whole different story.

Walking down to the basement with a plate of chicken nuggets in my hand, I turned on the computer and signed online.

Awesome, Reploid Seductions is online. Hopefully she can show me a few more things, after all, being a 'bastard moderator' is my dream.

A conversation ensued between us as we discussed specific threads and posters in General and in Moderation. My patience for being nice was wearing thin, and Reploid knew it. All she needed to do was bring out the rage in Uraslave, which she succeeded at. I decidedly go on a rampage on the forums, splitting roleplays and adding them into completely different ones to throw everything off, as well as forum banning those who were short of friendly with the regime in Uraslave.

Serves 'em right. I thought, while finishing up those tasty chicken nuggets.

I continued to delete random threads, such as the ongoing Dutch language thread. I got annoyed when people talked in different languages that I didn't know; it made me paranoid. After deleting the thread, I proceded to forumban certain Dutch users, until I realized that my moddy powers had disappeared. I was outraged. There was still much more frustration I needed to take out. Looking back in IRC, it was Reploid Seductions who had done it. It seems that I needed to learn a few more skills before I can become a true bastard moderator.

Til then, I wait in the shadows, ready to pounce the unwilling souls of those who cross my path in ... seven days, when I receive my moderating powers back...


Seven days.


http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v492/Euroslavia/deal.jpg
~Uraslave
~Evil Forum Mod of Doom and Hellfire!
~The Bastard Nationstates Forum Moderator ...from HELL!

*Side Note: I didn't really lose my moddy powers. It's a representation of a pure evil post I'm going to prepare to post in 7 days.

Bad moddy, touching our Dutch thread, where the hell are we supposed to gossip about you mods now? :mad:

Bad moddy, touching our Dutch thread, where the hell are we supposed to gossip about you mods now? :mad:
I thought we were discussing our plans to take over NS......uhm, nice bit of work, Uraslave:D

Damn, I expected some good bastard mod stuff on this thread... You guys are so disappointing! Can't any of you ever do something really EVIL? You know, of pure malice and bastard mod-ness? :p

Sat Nov 19 00:02:01 2005 GMT: frisbacteria forum_banned mauvasia

The Bastard Nationstates Game Moderator from HELL!
Volume 20
In which the Bastard Mod visits the Twilight Zone and quotes ancient modly prophecy...

I look around, somewhat dazed and wondering where precisely I am. I seem to be standing in a hallway not entirely unlike the main hallway of my place of employment, but something feels wrong. I wouldn't be a bastard moderator if I didn't know when my bastard intuition was trying to warn me of something, and there is something wrong here, something fundamentally, horribly wrong.

I stroll through the hallway, seeing the business manager walking toward me. "Hi, Stephanie!" She burbles, with no trace of the abject terror she ought to be radiating. "I need you to check the deposits from last week as soon as possible, okay?"

I watch her merrily make her way past me, confusion most assuredly plastered on my face in a rare display of befuddlement. I tag along to gather more information about this apparent Twilight Zone version of reality. "So, you post any new 'stories' on the forums?" I inquire warily, testing the waters.

"Stories? Forums?" The business manager replies as she begins to sort through the mound of paperwork on her desk. "You mean on the Internet?"

"You know... on Nationstates?" I prompt, wondering if the woman had suddenly gone senile.

"Nationstates?" She parrots, looking about as confused as I feel.

I mumble something and excuse myself, retreating to the relative safety of my office to muse on this. I find the doorknob to be perfectly benign, which is unusual, and immediately take stock of the interior.

No nice executive plush leather chair, no nice tricked out PC for playing anime and video games on... Instead, the drab room has the look of a largely disused secondary office, with a tiny mini-tower PC that sounds like it has a cooling fan about to die and take the entire crappy machine with it, and a broken but servicable desk chair. A blue Nintendo DS sits open on the desk, and I hear the sounds of Nintendogs issueing from it.

Distasteful though the machine is, I sit in the creaky chair and flip through the browser windows sitting open. It appears to be Nationstates, but something doesn't feel right... I flip to the mod centre and punch in my username and password, only to be greeted by an access denied screen.

I quickly skim through the window open to the forums and start to unravel what's going on when I see the name of the nation displayed in the corner.

Reploid Productions.

A quick skim through the forums reveals that this is not the Nationstates I know. [violent] is not listed, and neither are SalusaSuckUppus, Hatchet, KatScanandBan, Frisbacteria, or even my PFY Uraslave! Instead it seems power rests with [violet], SalusaSecondus, The Most Glorious Hack, Katganistan, Euroslavia, and a host of other names that are similiar to those I know, yet alien.

I sit and study the monitor, trying to digest this. Failing that, I browse the forums to see how this alternate-reality moderation staff keeps the lusers in line. A quick spin through Moderation and the secret forum reveals horrors untold!

These people are nice! They are JUST! They are fair! To lusers! They're polite and considerate! They put up with crap that would earn a gentle rain of nuclear modbombs were I the one in charge! Disgusted, I look through my alternate-reality counterpart's forum posts. Oh god, she's a roleplayer?! A dirty make-pretender?! I feel like I need a shower just skimming some of these posts! Further delving reveals a blog and a deviantart gallery.... for the love of the Almighty BOFH, doesn't this Reploid Productions person have a life at all?!

Just before I can wreck absolute havoc with her forum account, the door opens, and I come face to face with my alternate-twin.

"You-!" She gasps. "It's true! The bastard exists!"
"You!" I point the Finger of Accusation, pausing as her words sink in. "Wait, wha-"

With a shout I snap awake at my desk, a loud thud from the other side of the closed office door likely having been what woke me from slumber. The new intern probably grabbed the electrified doorknob. I quickly check the mod centre and sigh with relief upon finding my name and password working, and a brief flip through the forums reveals the names of my fellow bastards, and not those do-goodie nice types from my nightmare. I delete a few random whiners while I sit and reflect on my nightmare.

Could it be? Long left undisturbed in the tomes of bastard lore is a legend... almost a prophesy. I hop onto IRC.

> Uraslave, are you awake?
Uraslave> RAWR! KILL THEM ALL!

Well, at least my PFY's taking his training to heart.

> Ura! Snap out of it! This could be serious!
* Reploid_Seductions slaps Uraslave around a bit with a large trout
Uraslave> GRR- what? What's going on?
> I don't suppose you've heard the story of the end times, have you?
Uraslave> What? The one with the four horsemen and the antichrist and all that?
> Not those end times! The bastard end times!
Uraslave> The what?

I rub the bridge of my nose and frag a few whiny anti-moderator people to ease my nerves before I respond.

> The bastard end times. It's some of the oldest lore of bastardom! You know the concept of evil twins, right?
Uraslave> Of course! But I thought we were supposed to be the evil twins-?
> Exactly!
Uraslave> So what's this lore?

I lean back in my plush chair for a moment, composing my thoughts.

> According to lore, there is a world parallel to ours. Basic multi-universe theory there. In it are the evil twins... or in our case, the good twins. The exact quote goes like this: "The world of dark shall touch the world of light. When the two shall meet, the forces of the bastards shall wage the final battle against the forces of the do-gooder huggy-feelie types. And one shall triumph, banishing the other and taking both."
Uraslave> Did you hit the Pocky a little too hard last night?
> Do you want to be powerless for an extra seven days?

My PFY is swiftly subdued by that thought as I go on to explain my nightmare.

Uraslave> So, let me get this straight. You think your nightmare about this Reploid Productions thing is a herald of the bastard end times, and that we'll really meet these goodie alternates?
> In a blast of pure reality-breaking mayhem.
Uraslave> The lore doesn't say who wins though.

For once, my PFY has given me pause with a surprisingly keen insight. I had studied the lore like any good bastard (or bitch, really), and nowhere does it say that the do-goodies destroy the bastards. Which means....

> The bastards could win and rule everything!

I smile slowly, savoring the thought. If I hadn't awakened from the nightmare when I did, I would have delighted in pounding my counterpart's face in, seizing her realm and deleting the lusers she seems to so genuinely care for. It could be no more than a Pocky-induced hallucination (as I had hit the otaku drug rather hard last night along with a great big marathon of Excel Saga, followed up by FuriKuri, and topped off with Photon... rather a bad combination now that I think about it), but hell, it's an eventuallity a good bastard should be ready for!

> Rally the troops, Uraslave! We have a battle plan to lay out! And I'm turning your powers back on!
Uraslave> !

And besides, I'm at work and horribly bored, so it's something to keep me entertained!

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/claw-kun/evilmod3.jpg
~Reploid Seductions
~She Who is Feared, She Who Wields the Oversized Butcher Knives of Deletion
~The Bastard Nationstates Game Moderator... from HELL!

Ok, yeah, I'm going back to general before some of the crazy rubs off on me.

A very interesting twist with the good twin thing. I like it. :)

Rep had a good side? :p

Rep had a good side? :p
Reploid Productions is the good side. Reploid Seductions is the opposite.

Reploid Productions is the good side. Reploid Seductions is the opposite.

... So PROductions is like Mother Teresa and Dors (Foundation), and SEductions is like Mara Jade(sw), the Reverend Mother(Dune), and Exar Kun(sw) combined?


I shall not fear Reploid Secuctions, fear is the mind killer...

... So PROductions is like Mother Teresa and Dors (Foundation), and SEductions is like Mara Jade(sw), the Reverend Mother(Dune), and Exar Kun(sw) combined?


I shall not fear Reploid Secuctions, fear is the mind killer...
Fear, Padawan.

For fear may be the path to the Dark Side...but in moderate doses, it can prevent you from doing something...

...stupid.

Besides...fortunately, in everywhere but this thread, we are fortunate enough to enjoy the moderation efforts of the good half of these two parallel universes.

Ooh, the plot thickens...

C on the first one and D's on the rest...should i be worried? :p

very good, and it stays ~ even with the mood/setting/ideals of the BOFH stories.

what is this thread about??

what is this thread about??

Read it, and you'll see.

what is this thread about??
Daily life of the NS mods and admin.

No, no! It's about how a small but heroic band of sundry sentients battles valiantly to rescue innocents from the evil (or possibly just gormless) machinations of three constantly warring tribes, the whining Lusers, the screaming Noobs and the mysterious, distant Bosses, never knowing when a Jolt from above will make their Powers fail or falter ...

I mean, look at the avatars; we've obviously fallen into a fantasy novel.

No, no! It's about how a small but heroic band of sundry sentients battles valiantly to rescue innocents from the evil (or possibly just gormless) machinations of three constantly warring tribes, the whining Lusers, the screaming Noobs and the mysterious, distant Bosses, never knowing when a Jolt from above will make their Powers fail or falter ...

I mean, look at the avatars; we've obviously fallen into a fantasy novel.

*reads, blinks, re-reads*

"heroic band of sundry sentients"...?!? either i am not reading the same story as you or my cold med's are realy kicking in...cold med indused highs...fun fun :p

Read it, and you'll see.

I tried...
I couldn't...
I asked...

is it so difficult to answer??

P.S.: Thanks HC Eredivisie

Yes, it is...

Argh! Gravedigging in moderation! My world has been turned upside down. Black is white. Liver is candy. Will & Grace is a funny show. The Boston Red Sox have a Series title this century. Wait, that last one...

If this is gravedigging, then the mods who've posted their BMFH posts are as guilty as the rest of us.

3 days isn't gravedigging, especially on a thread that gets brought back from time to time.

I tried to make it obvious I was kidding around. It wasn't that long.