One word Story game

[Chad]

are

[iCe_2x]

512 bit processors

[Chad]

that can

[Apollo]

process

[iCe_2x]

Neowin's Load 342342524532142 as fast

[Chad]

as a

[iCe_2x]

comparision to the current server load

[duh!]

[Apollo]

a star trek computer

[Subhadip]

. That is much faster

[mariusu]

than a cluster...

[BrendanWOR]

of really big

[Chad]

eared

[Subhadip]

elephant. But hey, they are not computers

[X3M]

because

[Chad]

they have hair

[Effect]

on

[Tai]

their

[*AristiA*]

tails

[Max]

that were layed upon the coffin of the dreaded count drackula. who ripped a fart that quacked like a duck, only to find himself...

[Dessimat0r]

...seeing that my beauty will be saved by merit!

O heresy in fair, fit for these days!

A giving hand, though foul, shall have fair praise.

But come, the bow: now mercy goes to kill,

And shooting well is then accounted ill.

Thus will I save my credit in the shoot:

Not wounding, pity would not let me do't;

If wounding, then it was to show my skill,

That more for praise than purpose meant to kill.

And out of question so it is sometimes,

Glory grows guilty of detested crimes,

When, for fame's sake, for praise, an outward part,

We bend to that the working of the heart;

As I for praise alone now seek to spill

The poor deer's blood, that my heart means no ill because...

[Max]

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to heaven, we were all doing direct the other way--in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only....

[Dessimat0r]

as a spaceship crashed into the earth, faster than the speed of light. It's pilot smashed through the window of the craft, as it violently shunted into the ground, putting him into a low-level flying orbit of the earth. As he flew through the currents of the wind, he could not help but notice that the skin on his face was being ripped off, to expose the bone and oozing flesh underneath. His arm was also dangling off, only supported by a meer tenson, for the crash had severely injured his body. To he then reminisced...

[Max]

Once upon a midnight dreary, While I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore-- While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. "Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door-- Only this and nothing more." Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December; And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.

Eagerly I wished the marrow; --vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow-- sorrow for the lost Lenore-- For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore-- Nameless here forevermore. And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me--filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating "Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;-- Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;-- This it is and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, "Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you come tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you"-- here I opened wide the door;-- Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into the darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing Doubling, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before; But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token, And the only word there spoken was the whispered word "Lenore!" Merely this and nothing more, Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before. "Surely" said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice." Let me see, then, what threat is, and this mystery explore-- Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;-- "Tis the wind and nothing more!"

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter In there stepped a stately Raven of the Saintly days of yore. Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he; But, with mein of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door-- Perched upon my bust of Pallas just above my chamber door-- Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, "Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said "art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore-- Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night?s Plutonian shore!" Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

Much I marveled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning-- little relevancy bore; For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door, With such name as "Nevermore." But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. Nothing farther than he uttered--not a feather then he fluttered-- Till I scarcely more than muttered "Other friends have flown before-- On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before." Then the bird said "Nevermore."

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, "Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stack and store Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore-- Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore Of ?Never-nevermore.?"

But the Raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling, Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door; Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking, Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore-- What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore meant in croaking "Nevermore."

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosoms core; This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining On the cushion?s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o?er, But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o?er, She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by Seraphin whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor. "Wretch," I cried, "Thy God hath lent thee-by these angels he hath sent thee Respite--respite and nepethe from thy memories of Lenore, Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepethe and forget this lost Lenore!" Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! Prophet still, if bird or devil!-- Whether Temptest sent, or whether temptest tossed thee here ashore, Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted-- On this home by Horror haunted--tell me truly I implore-- Is there--is there balm in Gilead?-- tell me--tell me I implore!" Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting-- "Get thee back into the temptest and the Night?s plutonian shore! Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken! Leave my lonliness unbroken!--quit the bust above my door! Take thy beak from out my heat, and Take thy form from off my door!" Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

And the Raven, never flitting still as sitting, still as sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon?s that is dreaming, And the lamp-light o?er him streaming throws his shadow over the floor; And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted-nevermore...

[Dessimat0r]

...like an angel that has no sense of mercy

Rise, young boy, to the heavens like a legend...

Cold winds as blue as the sea

Tear open the door to your heart, I see...

But unknowing you seem, just staring at me

Standing there smiling serenely.

Desperate, for something to touch

A moment of kindness like that in a dream

Your innocent eyes have yet no idea...

Of the path your destiny will follow

But someday you'll become aware of...

Everything that you have got behind you

Your wings are seeking out a new...

Future that only you can search for

The cruel angel's thesis bleeds through a portal like your pulsing blood

If you shall betray the chapel of your memories

Cruel angel's thesis enters..

...through the window of your soul

So, boy, stand tall and embrace the fire of the legend

Embracing the universe like a blazing star!

[Dessimat0r]

The pilot's nose was now firmly indented into his face, much like a depressed button. As he completed his second orbit of the Earth, he could feel his lungs dropped down through his body. At this speed, however, he knew that he did not require lungs to fuction correctly; he was dead anyway, in a few minuites. Wondering what will become of him, he felt intense pain rush up his body, like a silver spike, treated with poison, as his legs began to tear away from his hips. He could hear the ripping sound of the flesh, and the breaking sound of the bone in his ears, as he completed his third orbit of the earth. Skin then descended over both his eyes, as his scalp was removed from its resting spot, and relocated from the effect of air resistance.