Discovery Gaming Community

Doc awoke from a nap, tired and kind of cranky, nursing a large cup of coffee. He started the walk from his quarters to his office to face a certain pile of paperwork on his desk.
"People just can't behave," he commented under his breath. He stopped for a moment, shrugged and cocked his head a bit, "but then, I wouldn't have a job if they did." He then continued walking. He didn't see any other staff around at the time.

As he passed the office of Garrett Jax, he noticed a note. "I'm burned out, have fun, Guys." He just sighed, "Damned shame, he's a good admin."

Just before his office door, he noticed someone with a mop. He hadn't seen him before. Suspicious, he placed his free hand on the butt of the revolver at the front part of his belt. Then he noticed, it was the new moderation recruit.
He let off his gun, nodded and returned to his office door where he went in to do some work.

Moveit56 while mopping those sacred floors had time to think about his life. Important questions such as what he was doing there.. Why his alias had numbers in it.. But most importantly, the question of if he wanted to mop floors for the rest of his life.

That's when the one fateful day happened. While cleaning out a closet, he finds a large book. Blowing the dust off of the cover, he reads the cover. 'How to Rule the World - By Garrett Jax" Probably something that he did in his sleep. Stowing it away for a read later. He would be a janitor for the rest of his life, may as well read some entertaining books while he was at it. Afterall, ruling the world couldn't be possible. That was only true in TV shows and Video Games.

During his next break period, after finding a nice chair, the immersion of the informational book began. The book was surprisingly well written. Stories about the temple, detailed schematics, this seemed almost too good to be true. Outlined in the back was a list of the most important information. The armory where a weapon called a banhammer was stored, all the way to the thirty coffee machines were located. Of course it didn't forget to mention that there were ninety spare machines for emergency use only.

By the time the book was finished twice, a life revelation was made. Why be a janitor, when this little gem gave information on all pertinent subjects required in order to become much more than that. Quickly standing back up, Moveit56 goes to the closet which he found the book in and cracks his knuckles. He had some renovations to do.

After tearing the room apart and putting it back together again, the finished product was drastically different than what it started with. Flashing lights and TV screens have been professionally duct taped to the wall, wires neatly banded together in a coil once they reach a central point. All that was left is to find someone who could plug him into the mainframe, then his closet would be complete.

Until he could find someone though.. Coffee breaks. The book talked quite a bit about how coffee was the savior of the Temple to most of the inhabitants. Never having been a coffee drinker, why not give it a try. Proceeding down to the lounge to get just that.

The one thing which wasn't something he had planned, was the paperwork soon to spawn on his new desk..

Moderators Drrobe and Snoopy approached the Admins, eyes ablaze and arms folded tightly.

"We have formed a Worker's Union for Moderators in order to protect ourselves from Admin abuse," they exclaimed, defiantly. "We demand more rights and better pay."

[Admin]Garrett Jax continued drinking coffee, chatting amongst the other Admins, giving no attention to the irate Mods. He glanced over briefly at [Admin]Moveit56, who was reading a dusty, familiar looking book, completely immersed. [Admin]Doc Holiday was busy cleaning his side arm, polishing each piece with the care of a surgeon. Not one Admin bothered paying attention to the pair. They were, after all, only Moderators.

After several awkward moments, the two Moderators stomped off, mumbling amongst themselves about plots of revenge and regretful Admins.

Garrett looked up, suddenly. "What did those two gremlins want?"

Moveit56, without even looking up from his book, said, "Who knows, who cares."

Several minutes later, Drrobe and Snoopy returned with the entire Moderator staff. They each held picket signs displaying their demands in orange paint. DOWN WITH ADMIN OPPRESSION!, FREE HEALTHCARE! and NO MORE KICKING MODS, IT HURTS!

They marched in a tight circle, near the Admins, trying to make themselves heard. At the top of their voices they yelled, "MORE RIGHTS FOR MODS! MORE RIGHTS FOR MODS! BETTER PAY, MORE PTO!!! MORE RIGHTS FOR MODS."

Annoyed, Garrett decided to disburse the mob. He walked up to one of the ringleaders of the insurrection, Drrobe, and gave him a swift kick in the groin. Garrett's foot clanked loudly upon impact, and Drrobe stood there unmoved, with a fierce grin on his face.

Oh no, Garrett thought. They've installed nut guards.

A loud cheer arose from the Moderators. Their first victory.

Garrett walked back to the Admin side to discuss the situation with his fellow Greens. "These Moderators are forgetting their place," he said to a bunch of nodding heads. "This rebellion needs to be put down now, and quickly. I have an idea."

After a moment of intense discussion, [Admin]mwerte typed into a console a couple quick commands. All the Admins then turned to look at the Moderators.

Instantly, every single Moderator turned a bright flaming color of pink. Shock and dismay settled over the group. Each one looked at the other, grief on their faces at their horrible misfortune. All save Redon, who apparently thought pink was a wonderful color. They turned to the Admins and cried out, "What did you do to us?"

The Admins sat down and went back to doing what Admins do, ignoring the Mods once again.

Stinging from this setback, the Moderators congregated themselves to consider what course of action they should take. They quickly realized that they had no weapons of any value to use against the Admins. There was only one course of action left to them. They had to incite a rebellion within the community. If these 'gods' lost their worshipers, then they would be forced to capitulate.

Tossing aside their picket signs, they stirred up contentions against the Admins to those within the community. They screamed abuse and stirred up flames across the Neural Net inciting rebellion. Soon, the simple minded among them were screaming and rioting, demanding the Admins step down from their lofty ranks. There was even talk of a raid on the Temple of the Damned itself. A rebellion of immense proportions was beginning to take shape. Even some of the Angels were joining in this insurrection.

Finally, seeing that these Moderators were not going to go away quietly, and were in need of more public shaming, [Admin]aerelm decided to lower the hammer on them.

Banned from the Neural Net! All color gone and a line struck across their names like a common rule violator. It was too much. The moderators were defeated.

Humbly, they approached the Admins, heads bowed and nut guards in hand. The Admins were all seated in front of a giant viewscreen, passing around popcorn and coffee, waiting for the show to start.

Garrett Jax noticed the questioned look on the faces of the confused Moderators. "Grab a seat boys," he said encouragingly. "There's going to be a raid on the Temple any moment and the fireworks are going to be quite the spectacle. These foolish mortals can be quite entertaining at times."

Each Moderator quickly grabbed a seat and any thoughts of rebellion quickly vanished as mortal after mortal lit up the viewscreen in a fiery blaze, bringing cheers from Admin and Moderator alike.

"Can't a man get some work done around here?" Doc bellowed as he got back to his feet. Tossing his pen on his desk, he picked up the freshly polished pistols. Walking out of his office, in view of the new batch of moderators, he was spinning and twirling his guns in his hands before holstering them. "It never gets old," he commented.

He had heard the complaints. He looked at them and began, "Free health care has always been the norm here and yes, it includes dental. Oppression?" He then pointed out into space, "It's out there with the mortals and lowluts. They know who they are."

As Garrett did his work, he smiled with approval. He turned to him and simply asked, "OK, so when do we initiate them?

As the door to the main hall in the Temple opened up, a familiar face walked in. A few turned their gaze and grew wide eyed. Some, like Garrett Jax, just shook his head and rolled his eyes. Of course this just made the figure turn his attention to him.

Walking over towards Garrett, the figure sat on the edge of the desk, pulling out a Vape pen. Taking a quick puff, and exhaling the Sweet cream and Peach smoke, he chuckled.

"What? No remarks? No jabs at my expense? C'mon now..." Drrobe said, with another chuckle. "It's ok, there are some new Moderators that you can threaten with kicks to the nuts. Which reminds me."

Standing up, he walked over to the nervous, yet anxious few sitting around one of the Holo screens. "It's alright guys. Don't sweat it. It's not that hard of a job. Just got to be careful around certain A.D.M.I.N.S. Oh, and buy some protective gear. Especially around the groin area. Just a friendly warning!"

As he walked around, greeting some of his fellows, he walked towards the hanger. Grinning and shaking his head, he walked up to his new ship. Sleek and black, Drrobe knew it would suit him well. With some minor modifications of course. Undocking from the Temple, he let the ship drift in space, as he leaned back and flicked his lighter...

"Who turned off the coffee machine?" Garrett Jax yelled angrily, his voice echoing back and forth along the walls of the cavernous Temple. He inserted the coffee grounds, filled up the pot with Zoner tears and poured the sweet water into the machine just like he was supposed to.

Nothing.

He checked the power switch. It was on. The power cord was plugged in too. It should be brewing.

Garrett was getting frustrated and angry. "For the love of JihadJoe," he screamed. "Why isn't this machine working?"

Garrett tapped a few buttons on a nearby monitor, bringing up a visual schematic of the Temple. The monitor flashed yellow warning lights in numerous places indicating that power was cut off, or severely reduced, in many areas. Auxiliary power kicked in, but that was only temporary. For some reason, the main generators that powered the Temple were failing and they needed to be fixed...immediately.

Garrett grumbled. The generators were located at the deepest, darkest section of the Temple, the Core. He entertained the thought of sending one of the Moderators down there, but he quickly dismissed it. A Mod might be able to get a brief spark of power, but his best chance was to find a Dev. Developers were the best at fixing failed generators.

Fortunately, the Devs were not too far. Garrett grabbed a flashlight and a donut and made his way to the section of the Temple where the Admins temporarily housed the Devs. Normally, Devs were forbidden from entering the Temple, but with the next update coming out, the Admins decided it was best to keep them close at hand.

As he neared the Devs' workspace, he was relieved to see that this section of the Temple still received power, at least partially. The lights were out, but the computer terminals were still operating. Garrett could hear the clinking of iron as several developers moved their chained hands feverishly across bolted down keyboards. Somewhere, in the darkness, he could hear a whip crack, followed by a sharp cry of pain and the quickened pace of keystrokes.

The nearest Dev caught sight of Garrett and immediately jumped to his feet, knocking over his bedpan, spilling its contents all over the floor. Garrett covered his nose from the stench.

"Why aren't you working?" Garrett demanded.

The Dev cowed. "Please sir," he stammered. "I...I'm hungry. May I please have a scrap of food to eat?"

Garrett smiled. "Of course you can," he said cheerfully. He pulled out the donut and flashed it in front of the dev. "How long has it been since you've eaten anything?"

The Dev stared at the donut with longing eyes. He licked his dry lips in eagerness. "It's been two weeks sir. Please, I'll do anything for something to eat."

Garrett waved the donut back and forth. The Dev's eyes locked onto the donut like a Cannonball missile, tracking it with an uncanny faithfulness.

"Excellent," Garrett said. "You want the donut, and I want a favor."

The Dev's attention drew back to Garrett. His eyes narrowed. "What kind of favor?"

"I need you to go down to the Core and restart the generators."

The Dev's eyes widened. "Hell no!" he snapped. "You can keep your filthy donut." With that, he picked up his bedpan and sat back down at his terminal, punching out code.

Dismayed, Garrett scowled back at the Dev. He couldn't really blame the guy. Nobody wanted to go down to the Core. He supposed he could physically drag the Dev down there, but that kind of thing had been done before. A Dev was dragged down there, against his will. Before he got there, though, he activated a coded kill switch within himself and died right there on the Temple floor. Stinking Devs.

With no options left, Garrett tossed the donut into the Dev's bedpan and headed down to the Core himself. He hoped that wasn't nom nom nom sounds he was hearing behind him.

Approaching the Core, Garrett couldn't help but notice how quiet it was. Normally, with the generators working, you could scarcely hear yourself think, but now, the noise was down to a bare hum. He hoped he had the skills necessary to bring the generators back up to optimum levels. For the sake of his coffee, he was going to give it his best shot.

As he breathed, he realized the air down in the Core was much heavier than normal. It was widely believed that the air here was toxic to mortals. It wouldn't kill them, just poison their minds somehow. He had known perfectly well adjusted people come down here, only to come back with their minds poisoned, twisted for whatever reason. Many times, just a brief visit was all it would take for a weak minded individual to succumb to the taint that pervaded these halls. Strangely enough, whenever someone visited down here, they always returned, many times, never to leave again. The longer they stayed, the angrier they became. Some would find it within themselves to leave this unhappy place, but they would almost always return, angrier than ever before. Garrett shivered. It was downright spooky.

The Admins, long ago, discovered a way to tap into this anger. The rage from these people supplied power to the entire Temple, including Garrett's coffee machine. Many times, Garrett enjoyed his hot cup of coffee, giving silent thanks to the power source that made it all possible...Disco's bitter vets.

As appreciative as he was, it didn't mean he wanted to come down here and visit these little balls of hate. Many of them held the Admins in derision, blaming them for all that was wrong in their lives. Garrett wished he would have been able to coerce the Dev into coming down here in his stead. The best way to deflect hate away from the Admins, was to throw these 'bitter pills' a Dev, and power the Temple for weeks.

Garrett wasn't surprised about the lack of anger/power coming from the Core recently. Normally, just before an update was to be released, anger was replaced by hope. Hope, from these bitter vets, that the changes they longed for would finally take effect. The more hyped the update, the more hope they possessed. Of course, the changes they wanted never occurred, and so the hate and anger that resulted was glorious. But in the meantime, the lull in power was unbearable. Cold coffee sucked.

Garrett had to find a way to jumpstart these 'generators'. He opened the door at the end of a long hall where the bitter vets loitered.

"Is anyone there?" Garrett asked, nervously.

Angry shouts emerged from the dark room, momentarily illuminating the area. Garrett recognized some of the faces, some from the past, some from more recent times.

"What are you doing here, Admin?" one of them spat. "Don't you have a server to ruin?"

Garrett gulped. He took a step forward. "Just wanted to give you a heads up on the next update."

The room went dark, but not before Garrett could see dozens of hopeful faces looking at him, waiting to hear what he had to say. He peered into the darkness, and in a loud voice, declared:

The next update will make POB's even more pointless, we are going to again buff fighter missiles and add even more systems to Gallia.

Screams of outrage echoed throughout the Temple as Garrett slammed the door shut. He dropped his flashlight to the floor so he could cover both ears before he went deaf from the rage. He ran as fast as he could through the well lit halls, leaving his flashlight behind. He wouldn't need it again anyways. His coffee would be hot for a long, long time.

After a long time of connecting all the tiny and not so tiny pieces of his new tractor, Jansen was finally done. His new tractor was painted in a bright LWB green, with a new development from some of the lower floors of the temple, tear-proof paint, made from the very potent extract of crushed dreams.

He was proud, he managed to built this tractor all on his own, as no Mods showed up to help him, he was certain that they couldnt have helped him anyways, incompetent and lazy things they were.
After having finished this major task of great importance he decided to give the new tracor a try, testing it as good aspossible, he decided that a journey all over Sirius should be he first major vojage.

Smart as he was, he started the journey in Omicron Delta, as thats just so really close to the temple. He left the great halls and flew around the system, thats when he encountered Zoners, Zoners that shot at each other, Zoners that were friends with the Order, Zoners that hated the Order. What a madhouse he thought and flew on, he was careful to navigate around the large amount of tears floating through the system and he mostly successful, only a few tears hit his new tractor, the paint looked good, he was certain that, if it survives Zoner tears, it could survive everything.
The next part of his journey led him to the Omegas, he really enjoyed this place with all its orange, but what was that? Ther e were people crying about the Core, crying about how the Core just took control of the whole place, forcing everyone to follow their rules. This was not the usual kind of Omega sadness, it was taken to a whole new level, everyone involved appeared to have a big issue with this, yet again Jansen had to navigate the tractor through fields of tears. And yet again, he managed to prevent the tractors paint from getting too much contact with the toxic substance.
He moved on, he saw that he saw nothing, apparently this nothing was watching passing by ships, what wicked magic was this? Who gave these mortals the power of cloaking?
That was a surprise, he did not expect them to be able to develop this technology on their own, someone must have made a giant mistake...
While thinking about which Mod to kick for this, he didnt pay attention to his surroundings and accidentially flew into a nebula, but this wasnt your normal nebula, it was made from tears and cries for Admin attention. That was too much, Jansen had to escape this madnes, back to the temple! Back to safety!
He flew as fast as he could, back through the Omegas, back into the Omicrons, ignoring everything around him, flying straight through the collections of various tears on the way.
Finally he managed it, he arrived at the temple, he went straight for his very personal tractor docking bay, for safety!

A few seconds later he was glad to have escaped the dangers of space, glad to escape all the tears, nothing could disturb him in the temple, nothing could damage his tractor here.
He went straight to his very own coffee machine and got himself the strongest brew possible, when he returned to the tractor hangar he saw that the tractor started to disolve, first slowly, then faster and faster until nothing was left. The tears had been too much for this great piece of technology.
Jansen looked at what had been left of his once so glorious and great tractor, he started to cry...

Marburg wakes up with a yawn & a stretch.

He crawls out of his coffin...because he sleeps in a coffin. Don't judge! Anyway, he crawls out of his coffin & across the room to go take a pee.

He reaches for the handle to the bathroom door, and is shocked by a loud pop and orange spark.

"OWWWW!!!"

Oh. Ok. So there's that.

He remembers "the tap" last night on the s.k.y.p.3. channel and entering Mod Central. He remembers it was Ktayn that did it. He's the one responsible. He's the one that actually flipped the switch. Ktayn must pay.

Jeeze though, seriously: Pffttt!!...Admins. amirite?

He throws on his brand new bowling shirt, (the one that has the "Modburg" nametag sewn above the right side pocket) heads towards the door to storm off and give Ktayn a good talking to, and is stopped in his tracks when he is poped by another orange spark from the doorknob.

"Oww!! Damnit!!!!"

This went on for a while.

Many hours later, he arrives pounding on the Admins door
"They know I'm here, damnit!" he mumbles as he reaches to twist the doorknob like he means it."

::SNAP!!::

"OWWWWwwwwWWWWwwwwWWW!!!!!"

Modburg has had enough!

He goes off back to his ship and grabs his laptop & a can of orange spraypaint.

He sprays "Mods Rule, Admins Drool!" on the wall next to the door. He looks at it for a moment & remembers he's done this before, & crosses it out with a big, orange "X"

Moving on to a clean spot on the wall, he begins spraying, "Mods Rock, Mods Rock! If The Admins don't like it, they can bite our..."wait. that doesn't work.

big orange X

Sidestepping to the next blank spot on the wall, He sprays, "Mods Do It In Moderation!"

no! crap! still not right. Another orange X.

Finally, on the last pristine area of wall, he just spells out before hacking into the Admins PA system:

MODS- 1
MUPPETS ADMINS- 0

he then quickly turns to his screen and cranks everything to "11" (because the Admin PA system can do that) and sets this on a loop before bolting the hell outta there:

Huggerz nestled close to his master, the Xenomorph Admin, Garrett Jax. His tail twitched impatiently, waiting for the beleaguered Admin to get some much needed rest. For several days now, his master toiled at the desk tip-tapping on a keyboard, trying to write the novel of a millennium. Many times, he didn't even make it to bed before collapsing from exhaustion. He rarely left his office/bedroom anymore, coming for air only to grab a pot of coffee and take Huggerz out for a walk.

Suddenly, a strange noise echoed through the airducts and into his room. It sounded like someone was scrubbing something. For several minutes, the scrubbing continued, followed by swearing, and then more scrubbing. After each bout of scrubbing, the swearing grew louder. Huggerz was worried that the noise would wake up his Master. Sure enough, his Master's eyes opened, and he picked himself out of bed.

Huggerz whined softly, eliciting a comforting pat on the head from his Master. He waited for his Master to dress, eagerly waiting for his signal to leap on his shoulder for his daily walk. He backed up all the way to the other side of the room this time, to see if his eight thin legs could make the leap. Garrett smiled at him, warmly. He tapped his shoulder, prompting Huggerz to jump. Huggers leapt with all his strength, flying across the room, landing perfectly on Garrett's shoulder.

"Good boy, Huggerz," Garrett commended. "That's a record jump for you, I think."

Huggerz tail whipped back and forth appreciatively. He loved his master.

Garrett scratched Huggerz head in just the right spot. "Let's go find out who is making all that noise, okay boy?"

Huggerz danced excitedly on Garrett's shoulder in response. It was going to be good getting out again. It was boring sitting in a room all day doing nothing.

Garrett walked the halls of the Temple, the scrubbing noise getting louder with each step. Finally, they arrived at the source of all the commotion. Three Oranges, as his Master called them, were trying to scrub off some graffiti painted on the walls. When they caught sight of Garrett, they swore loudly.

Garrett glared at them. "What do you think you are doing, Oranges?"

One of the Oranges stepped forward, nervously, eyes dancing between Garrett and his pet. "Sorry for waking you, sir," he said, quickly. "We were trying to clean up this mess on the walls, before any of the Admins found out."

"You are making too much noise," said Garrett, in an eerily soft voice that made Huggerz shiver.

The Oranges recoiled. "I...I'm sorry, sir. The graffiti is impossible to remove. It's painted in permanent ink."

Huggerz watched his Master as he gazed briefly at the walls. "Which one of you did this?"

The Orange's mouths shut tightly. Apparently, they didn't want to rat out one of their own.

"You're loyalties are admirable," said Garrett, smiling. "However, you will tell me. Huggerz? Go get him, boy!"

Huggerz immediately leapt from his perch on Garrett's shoulder and landed squarely on the chest of the nearest Orange. His eight spidery legs strained forward, in the direction of the Orange's face. His powerful tail whipped around the Orange's neck successfully and began to tighten. It wouldn't be long now. He could already feel the strength waning from the hapless Moderator.

Just before Huggerz could achieve lip lock with the Orange, the other two Moderators screamed in unison, "It was Marburg!"

Garrett smirked. "Huggerz! Down boy."

Disappointed, Huggerz slowly relaxed his tail's grip around the Moderator's neck. Before he left, however, he gave the Orange a little peck on the lips, causing the poor human to collapse in a faint. The other two Oranges shrieked in fear.

Huggerz left the prone man, skittering noisily across the floor and back onto Garrett's shoulder.

"Good boy, Huggerz." He looked at the two Moderators as he scratched Huggerz head playfully again. "Huggerz, I think Marburg is acting out. I think it's a cry for attention, don't you?"

The two Moderators nodded their heads slowly, their eyes less than certain. Huggerz was practically dancing on Garrett's shoulder.

Garrett continued. "Huggerz, go find Marburg and give him some love, okay boy?"

Immediately, Huggerz leapt off of Garrett's shoulder, scurrying down the edge of the corridor toward Marburg's room. Huggerz knew exactly where to go. This troublesome Orange liked to sleep in coffins, of all things. How fitting. Huggerz eventually reached the empty coffin, found a nice dark corner to hide, his tail twitching impatiently for Marburg to finally go to bed.