Margrave

I'm about to be in the same situation; I and my fiancé are going to be living together soon and she is interested in playing. I'd probably do the same as you, Mael, but I'd like to see the new rule in writing and to hear and IG Mod say it publicly however.

The above is an accurate if blunt summation. a fair deal is one that does no harm to any; failing that, one that does equal harm to all might suffice.

Eva, you sound so adult when you curse and let the word filter filter it out.

My thanks to the people who have given their congratulations to myself and Jack. As the new Co Piper to Kashmir, I promise to help usher in a new Era of prosperity and transparency for Kashmir. o/ Kashmir

BRING IT ON

RAMBLEON

Well they aren't doing anything with their nations IG, so why wouldn't they want to own the RP?

Time makes fools of us all, doesn't it? I'm not keen on digging up ancient threads, but I'll give you credit for allowing the tech floor. The behavior of previous Hegemons doesn't justify your time as Hegemon. Or are you going to let Kaiser Martens set the moral bar for you? Additionally, you're not talking about me, as I never fought someone because they were communist, and the rest of the Nords are gone. Unless there is another signatory of the Martencist Union here? no? Just me? http://cybernations.wikia.com/wiki/Martenscist_Union You're right: the revisionism in this thread is disheartening indeed.

He's the top, because you're the bottom.

Melech, I don't mean to sound like a broken record, but historically that just isn't so. There have been several power players, Tryun being only the most recent, that enforced a strict "No Germans In Africa" policy. That has changed now, but let's not edit the past to suit the present. At the end of the day, I will say that the potential for union always exists.The methods Eva has been using to berate those who disagree with her has been noted, and I couldn't see following her banner; someone else who wasn't keen on continuing the tired old grudges (of which I am also unsurprisingly tired of) might get a better ear, if they came to the table with a better offer and a better attitude. I represent only myself, but I can't imagine the other CNRPA players are in a hurry to leap back into the miasma. TL;DR: Come to the table with a better offer and a better attitude, Eva. I don't take your unity proposal seriously because you've taken the tack of lecturing from on high, rather than as an equal to equals.

I don't pay attention to role plays that can't manage to stay on the first page consistently and regularly.

you are operating under the assumption that there is an audience of people who haven't made their decision yet, or people who can be swayed. Who are these people? I certainly don't see any. Nice tactic of calling people who don't agree with you radicals, and inferring that they are hateful. You sabotage yourself with every rude post and exclusionary statement.

Like everyone else, you assume this is a committee, or perhaps a despotism. It is not; it is an Anarchist collective. each of us possess a certain value of x, x being recognition. when several people recognize your story, the whole becomes something more than its parts: it becomes a continuity. You are preaching to a body of players that doesn't exist; if we wanted to be in union with you, we would be. You aren't offering anything; just demanding that the community be healed! You are the one courting us. CNRPA is the most active role play around. All the people in CNRPA are rather firmly on the side of staying separate. So you need to either do a better job of romancing us or give up, none of us are leaping into your arms as of yet. As for me, I support a solution that doesn't punish people who play the actual game, and doesn't punish people who play neutrally. what that should be IS up for discussion, because my recognition is something only I can give? and while you can say "I don't want your stupid recognition you stupid person", it's not just me that's watching how you conduct yourself, it's the whole community.

You do not know the evil you tempt by saying this. or maybe you do.

It started in a brothel. Born screaming and mewling to a cold and desperate, Luey (formally, Luis) was born into the arms of one of the comfort women in the namless town she hailed from. It was a cold, and bitter land; so to was his early life, raised among the street walkers and the working women of Barrows-In-Furness. Kindness was fleeting in those days; both whores and their hanger ons suffered, especially the lowly children of Barrows. It was there that Luey first learned to fight. He started off the same as any of the other "rats" of Barrows: around the age of seven, boys were recruited, willingly or no, into street gangs. These terrible crucibles of human experience were the recruit farms for older, more established criminal enterprises. Like most, his first few months consisted of getting his teeth knocked in by any street tough who thought it was amusing to beat children. The crimes he was privy to, party to, and suffered by became too many to name very quickly. As he came into his own, however, helped along by the viscious beatings, it was he who found victims and made them suffer. By the time he was 14, he'd helped kill a man in a brawl, stolen a few hundred quid, drank, smoked riot weed, acted as a mule and a messenger. It was in that fourteenth year of his life that his mother, climbing finally from the pit of despair and having been quit of the business for some time, pulled Luey out of Barrows, to a better, cleaner life. Alas, it was not to be. After years of hoarding every penny away, Luey and his mother were finally out; living to the south, when a knock came to the door. Agents at the service of the government seized the young boy, removing him from the home, whisking him away. DNA tests were performed by men in pale white labcoats. In dull monotone, it was explained to him that he, Luey, was a Windsor, a real royal! He was whisked away to a country estate, like something out of a dream. Spending his days in relative luxury, Luey counted himself fortunate; so what if he still had to go and talk to those doctor's who'd unveiled his bloodline, or be subjected to hours of strange tests he couldn't remember or classes taught in a strange way. Finally, it seemed he was safe. Years passed, and though the Royal Family never publically acknowledged him or reached out privately to show they were aware of his existence, Luey held out hope. The country estate faded in the dim rear view, and the men in lab coats slowly dissapeared from his life; at the age of 17, he fled it to join the Army. When he joined the Army, serving as a poor dumb grunt along with all the rest of the "commoner filth", as he initially thought of them, he thought for sure it would gain him fame. When four years and as many deployments failed to make them notice him. Finding himself discharged and living in the Nordisk Rike he sought gainful employment again, and found it. The years since have been a mystery to the public record until his triumphant seizure of what is left of the British Throne. Acknowledged only in New Zealand, he has set his sights on Empire building, and will not rest until he has spread the name of Luis Windsor in awe and terror to the rest of the world.

It started in a time long past human memory; a tribe, born of the marriage of two disparate lovers (or so long disputed legend had it); in a place, and possibly a land mass, long lost to the ravages of the ages, an obscure collection of bloodlines nominally celtic began to travel together. These families, descendents of that ancient tribe, were said to be its last remnants after a terrible calamnity forced the survivors of an unknown event to flee for a new home. Over the long ages, they gained a reputation for being wanderers, fierce combatants, vagabonds and rabble rousers, but also for a penchant of gathering in others left behind by the shattering of nations and empires, collecting them under their family banner. In time, they gained a name, one gained while dwelling in the border lands of two great states: The Marchar. Many are the stories of that now diminished clan. The heroes of recent eras (though none for an unknown number of years, thanks to the Great Collapse), bore names like Khendon and De Luit; the first, the last King of Camberlain and Lord of the Marchar, the last true Throne to hold the Wandering Isles as its home. The second, a young noble in exile along with his people after the fall of the last Home of the Marchar, gained fame for service, loyal and faithful to a nation which at one time transversed the Globe from the Baltic to the Pacific territories; a soldier, a diplomat, an aristocrat, and a philosopher all at once, He held the title of Keeper, one of the last to do so credibly in the days of the last Gathering, the last time a large number of the Marchar lived together. Forced into disparate exile and near extinction, the Marchar wandered for many years, before returning to their sacred island, fighting in whatever armies would take them, seeking no loyalty but that of coin and comrades. They became a myth, a dream, and then a whisper. It had seemed that they had been lost to the obscurity of ages. And yet...they remained, a slow gathering of the remaining families and kinsman forming in the southern Island of Camberlain, what outsiders called New Zealand. And in a small village in the mountains, a conference gathered, the sons of the resurgent Marchar. They were soldiers, travelers, far wanderers by trade; each of them had gathered here for a purpose: To reclaim the lands of Camberlain. Though all remained masked, and came and went in secrecy, one man, wearing the blank masque, held sway: The Keeper. Behind that mask was a youthful face, a ruddy complexion, and eyes that had seen the struggles of his people through an age of suffering and degradation. His name had been subsumed by rite and ritual. Instead, he only bore the name of his forebear, and the heirdom to the Kingdom lost in time: His name was Margrave Khendon.

Man, you're such an old soul guy, Hakai.

OOC: you're stretching the limits of my credulity, but I'm game to play a latter day Ahmed Shah Massoud if you're game, Voo.

If we are still here in 9 years, ODN has my permission to nuke me into a crater. congrats, ODN.

there is nothing stylish about your game breaking, SDI ignoring, fireball shooting dragon. On topic, I feel, as I have for some time, that divorcing stats from story would be for the best for all of us, if there was a reform that was to be successful.

Long after I departed the roleplay, to be sure. That's great, but it's too late for myself or the ones who departed, and you've not been getting droves of new recruits either, have you? The devices required to repair the artifice of this community are beyond me, and I don't think that there's any particular trick or bet or deal to bring everyone under the banner of one story any more.

Let's be clear, you've spent the majority of your time here abusing the system in order to facilitate your obsession with dragons, rules or rulings with your influence (like your long ago sea trawling missile launchers) are always something for the sane to be suspicious of.

1. I recall that, and if you're that into it, good for you, but I won't let anyone shake a finger at me and say "Well, Europe is all one color, and so is all the other places you might like, go play as the Sandwich islands or go to hell!" 2. I left CNRP long ago, but when I was a member Triyun had made it clear how he felt about "Germans in Africa". He refused to recognize any rp that happened that didn't reflect the culture and values of the country you were playing in. I haven't payed attention to it since, so if he's had a change of heart I don't know, but that was him then.

You've made this point to death and it was as illegitimate then as it is now. Let's just be frank, a bunch of Westerner's who are likely Caucasian (except for the ones who self report otherwise, and even then) from America, Canada, and Britain are not going to usually want to play as, say, Communist Togo, or Liberated Republic of Kuala Lampur. You can say I'm projecting, or that that's a terrible attitude, but it does nothing to change the reality that if the only things on the map are places that don't interest me, and populations and stories that don't speak to me, I'm either going somewhere I can play what I want, or I'm going to be a German Reich in Africa. The fact that you are a policy wonk doesn't mean that everyone here needs to engage in your particular worldview, to be told they aren't creative or open minded enough because they don't want to be Steampunk Gabon or the like.

You've done nothing for well nigh a decade. How boring.