Messages - vDiplomacy

Chat archive

30 Apr 15 UTC	Spring, 1901: His eyes flicker open He does not see The burning chill of Hell Nor the peaceful bliss of Heaven But something unexpected That allows a smile form in his face Life! "Now the reign of Presi-" He stops. The time of democracy is ended Something, someone, stronger Is needed now: "Now Begins the Reign Of The Supreme Emperor!" The Emperor steps Into command with ease And embraces the Fog of War.
30 Apr 15 UTC	Spring, 1901: He was so close in his last life. He foolishly thought he was the most dangerous player in the game, and that thought was his hubris. He was tricked out of his biggest victory. "Not this time" he told himself. He was weaker last time. Now, he was stronger than ever before, and he intended to conquer all.
30 Apr 15 UTC	Spring, 1901: He had waited long for his chance, and when he had finally seized it, it was to find the people he'd led weak and disgraced. They blamed him for their failings... he turned his back on them. He would rise anew, successor to napoleon. If anyone could whip the french into shape, he would. GarettJax was returned.
30 Apr 15 UTC	Spring, 1901: errebody ready
30 Apr 15 UTC	Spring, 1901: "Rise, rise!" Rotten, worm-eaten wood creaks, cracks, ultimately splintering like old bone. Clods of dirt fall, like a torrential rain, a flash flood of earth, and decay, and gormless crawling things. HE WAS THERE, THERE WHEN SEVASTOPOL FELL, TEARS SHIMMERING LIKE FALLEN STARS IN THE RED LIGHT OF THE BURNING CITY. "Rise, rise!" Slowly, light begins to filter in from above, a sterile, hospital light, bleaching everything it touches. A mechanical roar drowns out all other sounds. A sensation of rushing upwards, from a great depth. HE WAS THERE, THE NIGHT THAT THEY TRIED TO RETAKE THE CITY, LEADING THE ARMORED DIVISION THAT ARRIVED TOO LATE, HIS RAGE AND DESPAIR AND HATRED OVERCOMING REASON. "RISE, RISE!" Debris shoveled away, back into the open grave, strong hands lifting the wasted, desiccated man-shape from the broken casket, quickly hunting for intact veins, assessing the state of decay. "It can be done," they murmur, without emotion. "It can be done." HE DIED IN THE STREETS, A NIGHTMARE DEATH OF BLOOD, AND SPIT, AND SHIT, ALONE IN THE STREETS, BENEATH THE BODIES, SUFFOCATING, ALONE, ALONE, ALONE. "RISE, RISE!" And the incisions are made, the body reconstructed, something, pale, glowing, otherworldly, sealed inside a multi-faceted gem, and bound in cold iron, replaces the heart, another replaces the oozing pus-mass of the dead brain. Eyelids flicker, then are torn away as optical lens are used to replace them. A body reconstructed, but will dwell inside? HE WAS DEAD, BURIED, HE REMEMBERED, HE LINGERED, WATCHED THE WORLD BURNED TO DUST AND GROWN AGAIN, A GAME RESET, AGAIN AND AGAIN, AND THEN HE AWOKE, DEAD, YES, BUT NOW A DIFFERENT KIND OF SPECTATOR, WATCHING NOW THROUGH MECHANICAL EYES, EYES HE COULD NO LONGER CONTROL, EYES THAT BURNED COLD FIRE, EYES THAT WERE NOT HIS OWN, BUT BOUND FOREVER TO HIM NOW. "Yes, it is done," they said, "For who will the people follow, if not a hero from ages past, now made anew our god." They smiled, then, for they did not know that in crafting this vessel, they called something back, a mind, an entity, and though the body was surely changed, it welcomed its master home.
30 Apr 15 UTC	Autumn, 1901: Guys we could write a novel.
01 May 15 UTC	Autumn, 1901: But legit, anybody read that and think mecha-hitler?
04 May 15 UTC	Autumn, 1902: I guess Austria is the most dangerous player in the game. So dangerous that it has to take three nations to pin him down.
04 May 15 UTC	Autumn, 1902: A quick and miserable defeat for you is a quick and delightful victory for us.
04 May 15 UTC	Autumn, 1902: Victory lies in one nation only; possibly not one of you three will live that far, but you will have to turn on each other.
04 May 15 UTC	Autumn, 1902: Well shit
04 May 15 UTC	Autumn, 1902: Just curious, who all needs to retreat? I'm one of them but I'm readied up. stupid Germans
04 May 15 UTC	Autumn, 1902: England does
08 May 15 UTC	Autumn, 1903: The Emperor walks the streets of Serbia Two boys and a girl cry in the street. The Emperor kneels before them Concern in his icy green eyes "What troubles you?" The little boys still wail through Tears and sweat and blood on their faces The girl, 11 perhaps, has few tears She points to her father Soon to be on the noose for crimes Against the empire. The Emperor pulls the girl in close "He is going to die. You know that much." She nods slowly but firmly "Now," The Emperor slides her his pistol "See your brothers there?" She takes the gun questioningly And nods again "Their lives are in your hands." She looks at The Emperor shocked Then to her brothers Then to her father pushes trigger "That wasn't so hard, was it?" The girl nods, slow and firm. The children only cry and cry.
08 May 15 UTC	Autumn, 1903: Uhm...wow.
08 May 15 UTC	Autumn, 1903: In the spirit of wishing the emperor of France a happy birthday, I think Germany should give Ben all his supply centers as a roommate birthday gift.
09 May 15 UTC	Spring, 1904: GameMaster: Germany voted for a Extend. If 2/3 of the active players vote Extend the the current phase will be extend by 4 days. Please consider backing this. If the majority is not reached by "Spring, 1905" the votes will be cleared.
09 May 15 UTC	Spring, 1904: GameMaster: Italy voted for a Pause. If everyone votes Pause the game stop and wait till everybody votes Unpause. Please consider backing this.
09 May 15 UTC	Spring, 1904: GameMaster: Per 2/3 majority vote the gamephase got extended by 4 days. (Voters: Russia / Germany / France / England / Austria)
15 May 15 UTC	Autumn, 1904: The enemy soldier is on the ground, Missing an arm, soaked in gore "I thought you were on our side!" Bloody oozes out of his mouth As the Emperor stands over With a bloody short sword, wearing a smirk A young girl comes out from behind him And takes the sword with slow, firm nod. She finishes the soldier A few extra times. The Emperor hands her a cloth "Who do we trust?" "No one." She wipes off the sword "Who will fall to us?" "Everyone." He takes back the sword "Who deserves mercy?" "No one." The Emperor sheathes the sword.