User:N00b X

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[20:46] == Another_n00b [522a5dad@gateway/web/freenode/ip.82.42.93.173] has joined #wikifur
[20:47] <Another_n00b> My connection cut me off. Well anyway, how is this place?
[20:50] <GreenReaper> Quiet, most of the time.
[20:50] <Another_n00b> How does http://en.wikifur.com/wiki/File:Dylanrinald_aron_brenwater.jpg count as fury? Anthropomorphic definitely yes, but I wouldn't call it actually furry.
[20:51] <GreenReaper> Lack of fur tends not to be so much of a requirement in this century.
[20:51] <wolfe> scalies are furs too
[20:54] <Another_n00b> Is it a form of Furry? I'm not well-educated on the subject but I do notice how those non-traditional with the practice do things like that. Sorry if I am sounding a bit novice here.
[20:55] <GreenReaper> Furries are anthropomorphic animals. Over time, lizard-like creatures, ocean-dwelling creatures, etc. have come to be included within that.
[20:55] <GreenReaper> In the 1980s it tended to be more mammals.
[20:58] <Another_n00b> Although wouldn't the name "Furry" mean "Fur-covered", and that would mean the word has had it's usage distorted somewhat, kind of like "wireless" or "virtual". Maybe that would be worth a mention on the main article of it.
[21:01] <GreenReaper> It already is. http://en.wikifur.com/wiki/Furry#Non-furry_furries
[21:04] <Another_n00b> Y'know, I would of thought that the article on Furry would be a 32kb+ long article, but in actual fact it is surprisingly small.  
[21:05] <Another_n00b> Though it is of a very excellent quality.
[21:05] <GreenReaper> Many topics are covered elsewhere. Wikipedia has a longer version because it puts more of it in one article - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Furry_fandom
[21:05] <GreenReaper> It could be improved. We are not near the quality of some other wikis.
[21:13] <Another_n00b> OFF TROPIC: I find this game very disturbing: http://en.wikifur.com/wiki/The_Asylum_(Psychiatric_Clinic_for_Abused_Cuddly_Toys)
[21:14] <Another_n00b> ( Add the ")" onto the end of the URL, as it does that for some reason. )
[21:14] <GreenReaper> I wouldn't have thought drugs would work on plush animals.
[21:15] <Rubrum_Veritas> Apparently they do.
[21:22] == Jazz[rus] [~Jazz@evildead.info-lan.me] has quit [Ping timeout: 246 seconds]
[21:23] <Another_n00b> Has anyone else thought the original HTH was a lot better than HTH 2? I just found the sequel to be WTF.
[21:25] <Another_n00b> Well, it was quite a good game. But  anyway, back to normal discussion.
[21:29] == Mufasa [~darkv@xdsl-9290.wroclaw.dialog.net.pl] has quit [Ping timeout: 246 seconds]
[21:36] <GreenReaper> I think its time has passed. It is still a popular article, though.
[21:38] <Another_n00b> Ah, well. Why on some block logs does it say "(log action removed)"?
[21:40] <GreenReaper> Because the log action has been removed.
[21:41] <GreenReaper> http://www.mediawiki.org/wiki/Help:RevisionDelete
[21:43] <Another_n00b> Ok. That's really fucked up. No other wikis I've seen before have done something like that before. But why?
[21:43] <GreenReaper> That reminds me, we've not heard from our friend who was the cause of all that recently. I guess Qwest actually did take their connection down after I asked nicely.
[21:46] <GreenReaper> Because career vandals are not wanted on WikiFur. They are banned, reported to their ISPs, and all evidence of their presence is removed.
[21:48] <Another_n00b> Now that is REALLY weird. I personally don't think you should report to there ISPs unless it's really, and I mean REALLY, bad.
[21:53] <GreenReaper> I value my time highly, along with that of our other editors, and the administrators of other wikis. Many wiki vandals joy-ride from one site to another. If I can make WIkiFur their last, all the better.
[21:54] <Another_n00b> And what does that mean. You can't ban them from ALL wikis with a silly little ISP warning. They'll always just change there ISPs.
[21:56] == Mufasa [~darkv@xdsl-9290.wroclaw.dialog.net.pl] has joined #wikifur
[21:56] <Another_n00b> I find it rather ridiculous! I personally think it doesn't work.
[21:56] <GreenReaper> Perhaps. But that's a big hassle, especially if there are a limited number of ISPs in the area. Often it is not even their internet connection.
[21:57] <Another_n00b> And like there ISPs can stop them editing wikis. If it did work, it would be a very bad idea to implement in the first place.
[21:59] <GreenReaper> Their ISP is quite able to terminate their contract for terms of service violations. Many are willing to do so, especially if they've had complaints before. Eventually it becomes more hassle to answer the complaints than it's worth providing the service.
[22:00] <Another_n00b> Yes, but if they get banned once on one wiki, they won't terminate the contract immidietly.
[22:02] <GreenReaper> Probably not. But they keep files on each subscriber, and if there's evidence that they are repeat offenders, creating multiple accounts, using proxies . . . it all starts to add up.
[22:03] <Another_n00b> Although, they will get only ONE complaint. And that would be this wiki. Even if they vandalised 100 wikis, if they only receive 1 complaint from you, they won't do anything.
[22:03] <GreenReaper> Not that many proxies actually work on WikiFur, but when they are used for vandalism, it is reported. Many do not hide the original IP address, making them trivial to track.
[22:04] <GreenReaper> Perhaps not. Still, like I said, I've not heard from the last person to try it in a while.
[22:05] <Another_n00b> I can only think of Conservapedia. And that's un-available in my country anyway.
[22:05] <GreenReaper> And in the end, they had no lasting impact on the site for their trouble. (Well, perhaps slightly better defenses against proxies.)
[22:07] <Another_n00b> Of course, you could always go external and DDoS attack them. That would be the first thing I would do if the fuckers on ANY wiki threatened to go drastic like that. And they'd blatantly deserve it. ( not WikiFur, but other wiki sites from other perspectives )
[22:09] <Another_n00b> Of course, I would discredit it. In fact, I wouldn't care enough to go to the trouble. If there moralfags like that, then I'd just leave them to rot in there self-obsessed, un-warranted self importance based hole.
[22:09] <GreenReaper> Hehe. Yeah, I think some people have tried that on occasion. It's hard to tell - we have fairly good protection against that sort of thing, and a beefy server (more than our needs, for sure).
[22:09] <GreenReaper> It mostly just shows up as a spike in traffic. Honestly, the search crawlers can be worse.
[22:11] <Another_n00b> Apparently, that's why ED stopped functioning correctly in early to mid 2007.  And they probably have better data protection. ( please no offence )
[22:11] <GreenReaper> None taken, but I think you overestimate them.
[22:13] <Another_n00b> Ok then. Before I start a flame-war over ways to prevent vandalism humanely, I will personally end with saying an ISP report should only be taken as a drastic, last resort measure as opposed to being used on everyday "FURRIES R G4Y" rubbish.
[22:13] <Another_n00b> Ok then, see you later bye.
[22:14] <GreenReaper> Don't you remember? Where furries. We hate humans :-) 
[22:14] <GreenReaper> Bye!

Contents

The game

The game is a very boringly-titled game available on MaxgaMes.com, a site owned by the developer, and later Newgrounds. In it, is a bland stick figure across a blank landscape, who must jump off to his death in order to complete the level. However, each level is themed around things such as Anarchism, terrorism, feminism, conservatism, global warming, pacifism, trolling, supernatural claims, and other things, often meaning there is often a twist in order to complete each level. The game has a title screen which has been called ( and is ), the most graphically impressive of all time.

You found the grappling hook

You found the grappling hook is a platformer game made by messhof. It is downloadable as hook1.zip and free-to-play on Kongregate. It is a medium difficulty platforming game with little in the way of difficult obsticles. The game revolves around a grappling hook weapon attained at the start. It was given 52% by Gamerankings.

When the Bomb Goes off

When the Bomb Goes off is a controversial game based off of the December 21, 2012 bombings. The game is full of small microgames, in which the player must perform various small tasks before the said nuclear bomb goes off and kills everybody. The game is known for the fact that the image depicting the bombs are JPEGS of the Hiroshima and 2012 bombings. The game was first made available on a little-known amateur video-gaming website 2Game.com, it later became known on sites such as UN and newgrounds. It was first uploaded to the internets on 29 January, 2014, and is known to have become popular around november.

/Game/Others

Pokémon ( Pirated Engrish version )

A really bad attempt at a pokémon game. Uploaded to UN on 08:07, 24 January 2009 by Goatse-clan leader Joe9320, so many people thought that the game was made as a joke. However, in actual fact the game was created as "pokémon platinum", even though it blatantly wasn't, by an anomynous user ( in question, 98.227.17.239 ). The game was quickly deleted by ChiefjusticeDS, and Joe9320 decided to re-upload it as the title it has now. The game was praised by well-known designer Da_man360.

Edwyn þe Almyghty

A rip-off of Thy Dungeonman, created by Bhornbuckle75. The game is started by going north, which already confused many of the games 13000 players. The game was uploaded to UN and later Newgrounds, with mixed-to-negative reception.

LifeReseter

LifeReseter is a humour game uploaded to UN on by Rbpolsen. The game gives you the option to "Terminate your life and reincarnate as something else", which is actually a parody of the Blue screen of Death on windows operating systems. It has recieved mixed-to-positive reviews.

Other supposed origins of Bloody Mary

One legend says there was a girl long ago named Mary Worth. She was beautiful. She would spend hours on end admiring her reflection. One day, she got into an accident that horribly disfigured her face. Nobody would look at her. And she was not allowed to look at her own reflection for fear that she would lose her mind. One night, when everybody was asleep, she got overly curious and walked into a room that had a mirror. She looked at her reflection and was horrified. She screamed and cried and she wished her old reflection would return to her. She walked into the mirror to look for her old reflection. She vowed that she would horribly disfigure anybody's face who came looking for her.

The first people to summon her

once, at a sleepover, in 1978, there were about ten girls there. One of the girls told that bloody Mary story above but then told them exactly how to summon her, which she learned from her grandfather, who was one of the people actually responsible directly for Mary Worth's death and the only person who knew this would work because he knew how things like these work. So they turned out the lights, and then gathered around a mirror. They chanted "Mary Worth, Mary Worth, We Believe in Mary Worth" over and over. About the 7th time around, one girl started screaming and crying and trying to get away from the mirror. The screaming was so bad, that the mom had to come in and check on them. The girl was huddled in a corner crying. When they turned her around, she had long scratch marks on her right cheek. This was the first casualty of many, many, many correct summonings.

Dexter111344

Dexter111344 is a worthless waste of air, which is why at this precise point in the space time continuum He thinks he should be doing something more productive, but for some reason, he isn't. He thinks his taste in music matters. He's seen every episode of Star Wars multiple times. He thinks playing video games makes him "alternative." He "spontaneously" quotes Family Guy, "The Hangover" and Monty Python. He installed Linux on a partition (He thinks, anyway) because it seemed vaguely counter-cultural. He writes articles like this one. Pretty much every human being he attended High School with remembers him only as, "that fat kid." He wears a fucking fedora in public and believes this makes the world a more whimsical place. He went to a second-tier state college and joined the Roleplaying club on the first day of orientation. He watches anime but he insists He's not a fanboy. He quotes memes at parties and then laughs alone, awkwardly. He own at least one cape which he wears "ironically" to comic conventions. He drives a 1990's Civic with crumbs on the floor and an "I roll 20's" bumper sticker. He's pretty much been a giant faggot ever since that one time in bible camp. He writes long posts in the Casual Encounters section of Craigslist but never gets responses. He has never had sex and is love shy. He is a 15 - 35 year old liberal thinking atheist. He thinks people shouldn't judge him based on his meager accomplishments because he "could have done better if he tried". He collects Plastic Crap. He hovers around the edges of his social group, grasping at straws of approval. He gets his ideas and arguments from blogs. He doesn't get invited, he tags along, which to him is a less offensive way to say crash. He likes to tell himself he "only dates nerds because they understand" him, but then masturbate to 10's who wouldn't even waste the breath to tell him to go fuck off if he approached one of them in a bar. He sits at his desk daydreaming about which X-Men power he wants, while his peers are building the world in their image. He fails it, where it = ABSOLUTELY FUCKING EVERYTHING. Seriously, fuck him.

= The Art of Jacob Emory

From: BenNasty@***.org
To: RetardoTheMagnificent@creepypasta.com
Subj: The Art of Jacob Emory
Ghost stories? Nah, we don’t have anything like that around here. We DO have the story of Jacob, but that’s about as close as you’ll get.

…You really want to know?… Well, I’m not supposed to tell you, but all right, just no interrupting. I don’t have the patience for it.

How to describe Jacob Emory… well, I guess you could say he was the kind of guy you could never take notice of. This isn’t to say he was a bad kid, in any sense- many

people in this town thought he was the most reliable person for an odd job in the state- but he never really excelled in anything. He was the living proof behind the

statement, “jack of all trades, ace of none.” Most of this was due to his own lack of will. He dabbled in damn near everything this town could offer him, automobiles,

radio operation, store management, what have you, but he never stuck with anything. His friends and workers went after him about it a number of times, but everybody

got the same unsatisfying response: “It just wasn’t enough.” Needless to say, any friends he kept were either very patient or never spoke of the matter altogether.

It was probably inevitable, then, that Jacob would leave to go abroad. I don’t remember where he went, but I think Gertrude down the street knew before she passed on-

you’ll have to scout someone else if you ever get curious. In any case, no one even tried to stop him. Everybody thought that a little travel would stamp the ambition

out of him, or else feed it until it was no longer an issue. Hell, we even gave him a sending-off party, which I thought was pretty nice of everybody.

So anyway, he was gone for… six, seven years? Can’t remember. You’ll have to check with someone else about that, too. Anyways, he came back, eventually, and he had

changed, obviously enough. He was amiable, energetic, all smiles all the time, and we all quickly learned why. He showed us a souvenir he’d brought back- a solid black

stick, the length of a pencil but the texture of chalk. We all wondered why on earth such a simple thing would prompt such a spring in his step, until he gave his

demonstration. He took a piece of paper, and with this stick- God, there’s got to be a better word for it- with this stick, he… he drew a crude circle.

It dropped, and rested on the border of the paper, like a stone. It didn’t leave the paper, but it acted out on it, sort of like an old movie projector on a screen.

Son, I know how crazy that sounds, and if you feel like playing skeptic, then you can leave an old man to his craziness, but I know what I saw, even if everyone’s been

hushing it up, and that stone he drew dropped. Jake even passed around the paper, and as it was being passed, it rolled around as the paper got tilted. None of us had

any words for it- Hell, what was there to say?- but he continued drawing demonstration after demonstration for us, stick figures in various pageants and plays doing

everything from fighting each other to making perfect “human” pyramids, and we all thought it was incredible. That was all the go-ahead he needed- he announced that he

planned to put on shows to pay for rent and food, where he would draw anything the crowd members wanted. THAT we talked to some length about, and he eventually

convinced us that it would be safe, his drawings ethical, the practice lucrative and unique, and the attention would not go anywhere outside of the town’s borders.

Poor Jacob. If I’d not been so swept up in the moment, I might’ve read the signs right then and there, and saved the sorry son of a bitch by snapping the terrible

thing in half. But I was younger, we all were, and we saw no problem with encouraging him with what we all saw as an incredible experience to be shared with everyone

else. Now, he didn’t have any big radio or television connections, mind you, and the internet wouldn’t come around for another decade, so he did what all people on a

shoestring budget do- he advertised his show with fliers. Fliers might not mean anything to you city-folk, but in a small town, they gain a fair glance-over from time

to time, and what’s more, Jacob’s managed to stick out by having little figures jump up and down and whatnot to get people’s attention. His first show must’ve gotten

nearly sixty or so people, probably a lot more than that.

And his shows were fantastic. Someone would shout out a scene from a play or a comedy sketch, and Jake’s hand would fly over a white wall like a bird. He’d been

holding back when he made that stone, that’s for damn sure. His illustrations were all spot-on, and he could make an incredible human figure in minutes. Come to think

of it, I don’t remember any of his scenes lasting more than ten minutes to make. They were all really well-done scenes, too- not only could you see a knight charge a

castle, Jake would draw the castle’s interior as well, like a wedding cake split down the middle, so you could see the knight scale the walls, fight his way through

levels to the dungeon, fight back out with the princess, and make a leaping jump off castle parapets onto his getaway horse all in complete silence. Not realistic, no,

but that was part of the appeal- none of us went in there expecting something real. When a scene or a sketch was finished, either the characters would leave off a wall

or he’d cover the wall with white paint. This was good, in a way- it gave these shows a time limit, so that when he’d finished with all of the four walls in the room,

everyone knew the show was over until the paint dried.

Jake, meanwhile, was changing in a bad way. I’d mentioned that upon his return, he’d been extremely energetic. Well, that energy, that vitality or fervor or whatever

you want to call it, it never left him. Not for an instant. Far from it, it seemed to grow in him, and he enjoyed it all too much. His eyes grew wider, he slept

gradually less over time, his statements and opinions more radical and frenzied, and though he never was a pushover, he was starting to make people nervous in his

company.

A month or two passed, and Jake’s audience grew like a wildfire. Nearly everyone in the town paid to see Jake’s art in action, and he had to rent out larger and larger

places for them to sit. He now didn’t stop after one scene was done- he moved directly on to the next, put on the next blank space on the wall, sometimes to the

intriguing effect of causing scenes to mingle, which the crowd loved. The subject matter got more wild and immoral, the monsters got more bizarre and creative, the

fighters using more impossible weaponry, all for the sake of the crowd’s interests. Jake got steadily more indulgent, which we figured was from the money, and he

became a drinker and a womanizer (neither of which got rid of that vitality, by the way.) Some of those women claimed that they’d woken up in the middle of the night

to see him scribbling with that stick on a drawing pad, a gigantic grin on his face, and while most of them said that they’d assumed he was drawing them in the nude,

there’s rumors that one or two of them got glances at that notepad. Those anonymous few supposedly said that those drawings absolutely weren’t nude pictures, but

neither of them, whoever they are, will say what he was drawing. Don’t bother looking for the notepads or fliers, though, they’re all gone now. I’m getting off-track;

point is, he was hitting the bottle, and that’s important, because it was that drinking that would eventually ruin everything.

On the night of one of his performances, as he walked in front of his cheering crowd, it was immediately apparent to everybody that he was completely drunk. I was in

the front row, and I could smell the bourbon on him from ten feet away. The show started, he went through a bunch of sketches and scenarios the crowd recommended, when

at the end someone asked that he draw himself. Everyone cheered the idea, I guessed they’d been wondering what his creations thought of him, and he eventually obliged.

No sooner had Jake finished connecting the final two lines on his coat, than every single character, across the vast, expansive wall, all stopped and looked directly

at that illustration. Lovers stopped kissing, clowns stopped laughing, robots stopped fighting pirates, everything stopped and looked at the Jacob-illustration. The

crowd died almost instantly- I remember Jake’s face at that moment, pale white, full of terrible comprehension at his mistake, and looking desperately for the cans of

white paint he’d forgotten to put out before the show. Everyone else? They were looking at the fake Jacob.

That Jacob reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a black stick of his own, and as we all watched, drew a door. He pushed on his side and the door swung open,

allowing him to walk through onto the floor of the auditorium.

The rest was an absolute hellish pandemonium. People screamed and ran for the exits as Jacob’s characters, both those currently on the wall and those which had

previously left before being covered up, ran out of their own exit, throwing pies, shooting lasers, blowing fire and poison and the impossible. I was near enough the

exit to escape, and gave only one backwards glance. The scene will haunt me forever.

Jacob Emory was being dragged by his creations, kicking and screaming, through the door his copy had made.

The auditorium burned down, obviously enough, but I have no idea how many characters escaped, what happened to the fake Emory, or how many people died. The fire

brought the fire department from the nearest cities up to over a hundred miles away- they in turn brought the police force, which brought the government, which hushed

up everything. They took the fliers and any art Jake had made, and swore everyone to secrecy or else life detainment. The fire was blamed on a cigarette in the garbage

during a basketball game, and we all eventually went on with our lives. Jacob was made to never have existed.

In retrospect, I realize everything. Jacob hadn’t been creating illustrations. Illustrations don’t move, much less act or attack-they’re just images people see,

shadows made to look like real things. Jacob had been making life- actual thinking things in some alternate dimension, using a power that was never meant to fall to

mortal hands. He got drunk on his power. His punishment was probably well-deserved.

Incidentally, the government screwed up on two different accounts. They did a damn good job silencing everyone, but proof remains. The ruins are still there, you know.

The auditorium’s ruins. I hear they’re going to start reconstruction soon, which will wipe out any remaining evidence someone can definitely see, but I went back there

once, several years after the fire- just once. Amidst the rubble, covered in ash, I saw something squirming. I looked closer. It was Jacob Emory’s hand on the wall.

Exactly like it had been three years ago, (sweaty but calloused, I remember,) but it was constantly flailing, as if the body it was supposed to be attached to was

still writhing in flames.

That was mistake number one. Number two was those creations.

Like I said, I don’t know how many escaped, nor how many the government agents found and caught, but I will say only this- Those tall grass meadows on the outskirts of

town? Don’t go into them. Ever. You were asking about those white figures you’ve seen at night, right?

This town doesn’t have ghost stories. </div>

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