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+--- Thread: Tales of the Admins (/showthread.php?tid=16769)
RE: Tales of the Admins - |nfrared - 01-14-2016
On the Temple of the Damned in the Moderator initiation chamber @|nfrared had what can only be described as a hallucination (probably the result of the methods used in his capture)...
The cage was cold. I was disoreintated, having been plucked from the community where I had been able to offer an opinion in safety, if I was quiet enough. But this was different. I was alone in the cage. My feathers, wherever they had come from, were itching. Was that a beak? It was like a dream. The rumbling stopped. Suddenly one side of the cage opened. I wandered out, among the other pre-selected chickens. We were in a larger pen. Yay. Some friends. Squawk!
Then I heard a noise. My chicken instincts kicked in. I clucked, to offer a different perspective. My opinion was not the same as the thing coming out of the cage in front of me, a huge multi-headed beast of many mouths. I squawked again. I still did not agree. I was getting to the equivalent of being "chicken pissed" by now. Squawk!
Suddenly, the beast spotted me. It had 5 mouths, and all responded. Each thought independently as if it had formulated it's own thesis, indeed as if it had studied for a lifetime, and responded with its own remarks, ranging from reasonable to just plain venomous. The chicken in me was stubborn. The other chickens around me kept quiet, survival reigning over squawking. Who would want to respond to the ravings of such a mad beast that was hurling insults and deliberately ignoring my key points? I tried to close my beak, but the impulse was unstoppable.
Squawk!
Suddenly a great pain, as if I had been bitten by a large mouth, the beast had me. I flapped my chicken wings, to no avail. There was a crunching noise. Then blackness as I opened my eyes and shook myself out of it.
I started coming out of it, was I concussed or drugged, I didn't know. The horror dawned as I realized my place and I looked down at the broom duct taped to my hand. They had used my last roll. One of them was coming, the green ones. I swept faster, not making eye contact. Then I allowed myself a small smile.
I, the chicken me, had been bitten first. Others had been in easy reach, their new orange feathers still glistening. I had looked tastier than the others, easier to pick on.
Then the smile became a grin. I was the perfect chicken. I knew my place in things. I was content. I lay on the floor of the chamber, waiting for the green ones to beat us all again. I mumbled something as I was whacked hard, some thing like, "Please, not the chickens again..."
RE: Tales of the Admins - Garrett Jax - 04-28-2016
Garrett Jax stood patiently atop the gated walls of the compound, called Discovery. Next to him, wearing a bright yellow jacket, was the Developer liason to the Admins, Rohj Teerin. Communication between Devs and Admins was essential for a smooth running operation, and so the lead developer, Teerin, volunteered to live among the Admins to facilitate that. Of course, Garrett took every opportunity to harass the poor guy over the Temple of the Damned being moved on to the ethereal realm away from Mortal eyes. However, despite Garrett's most logical arguments for its return, Teerin was unmoved. The time was now for more drastic measures.
"Garrett, um...why are we here again?" Teerin asked. Four targeting lasers pointed at the Dev's chest made his voice shake slightly. Garrett tried to smother a smirk as he watched the Dev's eyes follow the laser's path all the way up to the Guard Towers where the Admins were perched, armed with Banhammers. Teerin's eyes grew wide. "W...What's going on, here?"
"Banning," replied Garrett, in a low, raspy whisper. He watched to see if the Dev would wet himself, but amazingly, the guy remained more calm than he expected. He should have known that intimidation wouldn't work on him. Devs received so much abuse, they were almost immune.
Teerin stood straighter, putting on a brave front. "Banning me won't get you your Temple back, Garrett.
Garrett scoffed. The man was insufferable. "I'm not going to ban you. You're a Dev, and as much as I hate you guys, even I have to admit your service here is invaluable." Garrett raised his hand high and the four lasers pulled away from Teerin's chest. "No, I'm here to show you firsthand how Admins handle banned individuals. It is one of our more...messy duties."
Before Garrett could continue, a loud uproar sounded from inside the Compound. The gates opened and two Admins appeared, each holding the arm of a screaming individual, dragging him forward. As they neared, Garrett could make out some of what was said.
"IT WASN'T POWERGAMING!!!! IT'S JUST THAT MY ROLE PLAY IS OUTSIDE THE BOX. THIS IS BULL!!!"
Garrett shook his head, sadly. He knew this person. With a sigh, he watched as the two Admins escorted the banned player outside Discovery Compound, and shut the gates behind him. The player moaned and whined aloud to everybody, finally exhausting himself with the effort, and eventually settled down in the courtyard below where countless others already sat.
Teerin looked at Garrett, questioningly. "What is that place?" he asked.
Garrett sighed again. "That is Purgatory."
"What?" Teerin asked, incredulous.
"Purgatory. It's a sad, horrible place outside the Disco Community where people linger and lurk. They either make the choice to stop actively participating, or the choice is made for them. They stay here, not part of the Community, yet not gone either. They linger and lurk, until they either decide to come back, are allowed to come back or choose to finally leave for good."
Teerin looked on, amazed. "What a sad miserable existence."
Garrett nodded. With a loud booming voice, he called out to the people in the courtyard. "Go live your lives, people. Quit loitering. There are a million different things you could do with your life. Why waste it here?"
At the sound of Garrett's voice, a large collection of strange looking creatures stood up as one and scampered quickly toward the compound walls.
"What are those?" Teerin asked, alarmed. "They look like...giant cockroaches."
Garrett peered over the walls at the giant roaches. Their hairy, spindly legs moving in haste. They were beyond count. He raised his voice to the Admins in the Guard Towers, "Raise the alarm, Karlotta alts have been spotted!"
Instantly, laser guided Banhammers came alive, exploding one cockroach after another into a sticky, stinky goo. The Karlotta alts kept coming, determined to reenter the Community. One after another went down to Admin fire. Garrett himself unleashed a Banhammer of his own and with a sadistic laugh, fired Green Judgement upon the filthy creatures. By the time the Banhammers quieted, thousands of Karlotta alts littered the courtyard.
Shaken, Teerin looked over at Garrett, "Did we get them all?"
Garrett laughed. "Of course not. We never get rid of all of them. What fun would that be?"
At that moment, another voice, an angry one, could be heard as the gates to Disco opened. A half animal, half human creature was storming out, yelling at the top of his voice that he was leaving Disco for good. Garrett looked closer. Was that the same furry as the one he encountered just a few days ago? He didn't think so. This one was more obnoxious and annoying. He listened to The Savage-like creature rant on about how abused he was by the Community, yet after taking only a few steps into the courtyard he eagerly ran back into the Compound. After a few moments, he repeated the same scene, screaming in rage at the persecution he was suffering, only to run back to rejoin the Community moments later. After several more times of this, Garrett raised his gun.
Teerin looked exasperated. "Do it, Garrett," he said, anxiously.
A single shot was fired from Garrett's Banhammer, exploding the furry head into bits of fur and bone.
"Can't wait to read the Violation Report for this one," said Garrett, smirking. He looked at Teerin. "You see what we have to deal with day to day? This is what we do to preserve and protect the Community inside. Don't you think we deserve our Temple?"
Teerin sighed. "You're never going to give this up, are you?" he asked.
"NOPE."
As they both walked inside the compound, Teerin said, "I will think about it."
RE: Tales of the Admins - Garrett Jax - 04-30-2016
Meanwhile, in Real Life:
Bob, known as Garrett Jax in the Disco universe, arrived at Nike World Headquarters to pick up his son at his new place of employment. His son worked in food prep for the daycare facilities, providing food, and cleaning up after dozens of young children.
As he neared the daycare, he could hear the children playing loudly outside. His ears perked up when he heard the line, FISTS HOT, ENGAGING. Turning to the source of the sound, Bob saw a big kid, wearing a headset and mic, pounding a smaller kid into submission. The smaller kid started screaming and crying. He threatened the bigger child that he was going to report him to the Daycare Provider. The bigger child just laughed at him and told him to GET GUD. Several other big kids, scattered throughout the playground , also wearing headsets of their own, laughed scornfully at the smaller child.
Bob waited for the Daycare Providers to step in and get involved, but they seemed busy taking care of other matters. Meanwhile, the same big kid saw a different child playing on the swings clear over at the opposite side of the playground. The big kid spoke into his mic, and instantly, five of them cruised over to the smaller child and they all joined in beating him into the ground. The big kid towered over the fallen child and yelled, STAY OFF MY SWING, NOOB! The smaller child yelled at the Daycare Providers that he was getting ganked, but they didn't hear him. Bob observed that each time the smaller kid got near a play structure, the big kid and his goons would immediately run over and beat the kid. Eventually, the kid stopped trying to play and just went inside.
The big kid, and his buddies, cheered at their success. WE DROVE HIM FROM THE PLAYGROUND. They congratulated each other and they quickly gathered together to pick another target.
While Bob waited for his son to come out, he watched this scene play out time and again. One kid after another would get fed up with the bullying and simply leave the playground. Bob wondered what the bullies would do if they succeeded in driving every kid out of the playground. Would they turn on each other? Would the daycare have to close up their doors due to lack of business? Why didn't the Daycare Providers put a stop to it? These few bullies were ruining the fun for everyone.
Bob finally caught sight of his son walking out the doors of the daycare. "How'd it go, today?" he asked.
"Stressful," his son replied. "You have no idea how much stress is involved in taking care of this many kids."
Bob gave a short laugh. "You know what, bud. I think I actually do."
RE: Tales of the Admins - Garrett Jax - 05-10-2022
...Continued from this post
Garrett Jax found himself lying on a cold steel floor of a jail cell, presumably still at Fort Bush. His entire body hurt. Muscles in his chest, arms and legs still twitched involuntarily from the tazer strikes. Those foolish mortals from the LPI will pay for their insolence, he thought. He tried to get up, but his legs decided that wasn't a great idea. He chose to acquiesce to his legs desire and just lay there.
The room was dark, with only a single dim light on the other side of the bars. He could barely make out a guard slumped over his desk, dead asleep. The minimum security was insulting, if not effective. His body was in no condition to move, much less escape. He was stuck.
There was nothing left to do. His options were all spent. All he could do was pray and hope that someone would listen and take pity on him. "Dear Sweet Igiss", he began. "Please get me out of this cell. I can't handle being among the mortals anymore. It's too much. I'll do anything if you get me out of here." Garrett Jax put his head on the steel floor and waited for the answer he knew would never come.
Suddenly, a familiar form shimmered inside his cell. It coalesced into a familiar face. It was Aerelm!
Aerelm was cloaked in the familiar Green of all A.D.M.I.N.S. His face wore an infuriating smirk. "What the hell happened to you, Garrett," he asked. "Why in Igiss name are you lying on the floor?"
Garrett tried to look as dignified as his tortured spasming body could look. He tried so hard not to sob. "I need help," he admitted ashamedly. "I can't move and I need to get out of here."
Aerelm's smile grew even more infuriating. "I can get you out of here," he offered. "However, it will come with a price."
Garrett's eyes narrowed. "What price?"
"Come back to the Greens," Aerelm said. His eyes flashed with what looked like pity. "You know you don't belong here. I'm surprised you lasted this long."
Garrett considered the invitation. Life as an immortal A.D.M.I.N. or life wracked with pain, torture and certain death? The choice was clear. "There is no way in hell I'm going to be an A.D.M.I.N. again," he screamed. "If you are not going to help me, then get lost."
Aerelm laughed. "We have coffee. The good stuff."
Garrett didn't even blink. "Give me the damn green jacket!"
Garrett put on the proffered Green jacket and instantly felt better. His pain was gone. He could stand up again and move around. He turned back toward Aerelm, dreading the assignment, but tempted hard by the coffee. "You know, Aerelm," Garrett said. "You don't exactly play fair."
The infuriating smile returned. "I know, Garrett," he laughed. "I know."
RE: Tales of the Admins - Garrett Jax - 06-11-2022
Garrett Jax jolted awake to the blaring klaxon alarms at the Temple of the Damned. The immediate disruption of his sleep started his heart racing. Red warning lights flashed across his room. An alert to some sort of emergency brought him immediately to his feet.
What are the foolish mortals doing now, he wondered? His mind raced through the various possibilities. Maybe some mortal found a way to manufacture credits from thin air again? Or, maybe some repeat offender found his way back from banishment and covertly integrated themselves amongst society. Or, maybe an entire faction decided to act outside the rules prescribed for them by the admins. The possibilities were endless.
Garrett raced down the hallway, making his way to the Rules Violation Reports Room. He fired up the monitor to see what kind of rule violation had been committed. The entire staff might have to be consulted. There would be serious debate. Arguments and counter-arguments would fly across the room as both the veracity of the violation was discussed and or the severity of the punishment. Finally, an admin would step up to the plate and publicly announce the decision. The viewscreen came into focus and the suspected violation appeared on the monitor.
Foolish Mortal accused of being AFK.
Garrett rolled his eyes. That’s it, he asked? Is this all the foolishness these Mortals can muster? Some part of him was relieved that it wasn’t more serious. There was a time when the Rules Violation reports ran pages long. Admins burned themselves out trying to keep up. The Mortals ran wild, and admin attrition was at an all-time high. Even he had stepped aside from the green jacket, because of the workload. Now things were much different.
Garrett shut the monitor off with a sigh. He would deal with the violation, but it wasn’t worth losing any more sleep over. Something was different with the Mortals now. After years of being away, he noted a lack of fire, of enthusiasm, in their activities. The lack of violation reports was good, but it was one of many signs that pointed to a general attitude that troubled him. They seemed to live in fear. Not so much a fear of admins, but a fear of upsetting each other.
This fear was healthy, but it seemed to go too far. Garrett watched the mortals engage in their mundane activity. Those that were part of the military stood on their hands, with no one to fight. His once favorite group of Mortals, the Liberty Police, with their delicious coffee, were rarely corrupt. Pirates were unbelievably polite to traders. Some Junkers refused to break laws. Corporations no longer pirated one another. Everyone stayed in their own respective space and as a result, nothing occurred.
What the hell happened?
The Mortals need conflict, Garrett observed. They thrive best when there is struggle. There was a stirring of activity when he maneuvered events in such a way to manufacture struggle. Like stomping on an ant hill and watching all the ants scramble. However, after the event, the activity would stop and everything returned to the same boring peace that seemed to kill all enthusiasm. Occasionally, even his efforts to spur activity among some of the mortals was a challenge. It was if he had to personally convince them that conflict was good for them. What used to come naturally now had to be forced due to an undue fear that prevailed among them.
The militaries need someone to fight. The police need something to enforce. The unlawfuls need incentive to smuggle. The pirates need traders to harass. Traders need something to fear. That is the circle of life among the mortals.
Garrett made his way back to bed. This was going to be a challenge, but something had to be done. The alarms finally stopped blaring. The lights stopped flashing. However, the actual emergency was yet to be resolved. Something had to change. Garrett Jax finally went back to sleep dreaming of all the chaos and conflict that needed to be injected in the Mortals to bring them back to life.
RE: Tales of the Admins - Garrett Jax - 06-24-2022
Garrett Jax sat at his desk, fired up his monitor and started to read the prayers sent to him from the foolish mortals. Sometimes their requests involved simple, easy things. Other times, their requests were elaborate and complicated. Garrett had to be careful when answering the latter. A yes to one request, might ruin the lives of countless others. Unlike the mortals, the Greens were forced to have a broader perspective on things. Sometimes, for the greater good, the answer had to be no.
The first prayer involved moving a couple bases from one system to another. Hard no, Garrett thought. Not a great idea for those mortals who would now have to deal with three bases instead of just one in that system.
It was not easy saying no. Well, actually it was, but it was the whining that he had to contend with after the no, which was not easy to deal with. Accusations of being lazy, uncreative and inconsiderate were thrown about. Someone even suggested that the ADMINs recoup them for their loss. How self-entitled, Garrett mused. The Greens didn’t tell them to build there. The Greens set the rules very clearly in place beforehand. Certainly, it was no fault of his own they chose not to read them. Maybe they thought they were more deserving than other mortals, entitled to special consideration? Too bad. The answer is still no.
Garrett fired up the next prayer. Actually, it was more of a statement than a prayer. It read, Garrett Jax is an a**hole. Garrett Jax is a muppet. I don’t participate in muppet Jax events. Oh, thought Garrett. This guy again. It was comical how angry some mortals got. He read the comments over and over, laughing each time. He imagined the mortal, red in the face, stomping up and down in some sort of silly tantrum. I’M NOT PARTICIPATING IN YOUR EVENTS, MUPPET JAX. Some people were just determined to not let themselves have fun and even went so far as to try to convince others from enjoying themselves too. What a sad little man.
The next prayer also involved an event. It was request to join. Why yes, Garrett said with a smile. Yes, you may.
Garrett quickly went down the prayers one by one. Requests for missing equipment, Barges, lost ships...
Yes, yes and yes, he stamped.
Finally, he came across the last prayer. It wasn’t a request at all. It was simply a statement of gratitude. Thanks, Garrett for all you do. Love the events. Keep up the great work.
Garrett made a copy of that prayer and pinned it on a board above his monitor. There were a few there that said similar things. Comments like that made everything he did worthwhile. It was a joy to serve those who expressed appreciation for what the Greens DID do for them.