Newgrounds.com — Everything, By Everyone.

At 6/20/09 03:33 AM, Snake-Arsenic wrote: Is it true most of the Kiwis migrated because there are more sheep in Australia than New Zealand and unlike NZ there are actually virgin sheep here, and that you keep them from getting away with your velcro gloves, put on a pair of spiked boots and take them to a cliff so they push back harder?

P

Normally I wouldn't say anything, but that was just so... awesome. I'm going to look through the rest of your post just to see if you said anything else that epic.

At 6/20/09 03:10 AM, SloppyMoe606 wrote:

At 6/20/09 02:10 AM, Frank-The-Hedgehog wrote: Alex has the personality of a soda can.

He's a virus in the shape of a human. He doesn't need personality, he needs killing and adventure!

Alex has the mind of a child, his best weapon is common sense and his ability to gain personality and knowledge from his victims. His personality is deeper philosophically more than it is on the surface.

That being said, I would have to join the people saying to stop playing on easy, but add to it to continue playing on easy if you enjoy it. I also have to agree with an argument you made against yourself that if you get better at games like Assassin's Creed you will get the same non-sluggish feeling. However, as a challenge and argument for the rest of you, no game is truly open ended, not even life is. There is a limit to almost everything, but as for the game, missiles come down upon you if you leave the city limits, making it realistic as to why you can't leave, but disappointing even so.

At 6/20/09 02:02 AM, TehSlapHappy wrote: Am I doing anything wrong? How do you feel about me? Am I cool? Am I an attention whore?

What am I doing wrong?

i just fucked up. :/

What does zbox think of you? Hmm, based on the minimal things I've seen you post and the lack of effort I will admit I have shown by neglecting to research you, I must say you are by far one of the most common uninteresting yet honest people who have marked fab as your aura I have ever seen. Yes you are an attention whore, but your goals whether real or not are nice, and your intentions are decent. People seem to like you for some reason giving me reason to believe you are a charismatic figure on the internet, which annoys me for some reason. You as an individual may be a good person, but not a person I would take notice of quickly. You are part of a collective of faceless people I will eventually forget and, no matter how negative or thoughtful a response I get from this, it won't make me change my mind on you, what did you want me to say anyway? You're a self admitted FAB with, "why can't we be nice topics?" Seriously.

I would just like to say, that I was apathetic, pessimistic, and melancholy (which is pretty close to apathetic anyway) BEFORE I got to Newgrounds. Usually, colors have nothing to do with moods unless you're a highly suggestible person, if you are, well I'm sorry (not really). Also, I wouldn't call it being a jerk, I would call it, constructive criticism, or, pointing out the trash.

Sorry I've been gone, but to be fair I haven't been on NG. I was just wondering if anyone could help me with story formatting techniques, like this one for example, in between scenes, you put a divider like this:

story story story-----------------------------------
----------------------------------------
--------------------------
------------------------------

(scene switches to a dif. char.)************

story story story----------------------------

I can really use help on this, I'm not good at formatting and will appreciate any advice I can get.

At 12/23/08 02:27 AM, permaximum1 wrote: here is a story i submitted to the storybook collab. what do u guys think.
http://permaximum1.newgrounds.com/news/p ost/238960

Too short to be a story, but it's an interesting poem, nice job.

At 12/22/08 01:20 PM, SprintT wrote: Writers!
Do you want comments?
Votes?
Respect?
Advise?
ect.?

www.campnorth.tv is for you!

Never before have I felt so at home on a site! AND as a writer it is nice to have a place to actually feel like I am part of the community. Lets face it NG casts us all aside.

First off, don't take people from this club, second off, NG needs us and makes us grow thick skin, they don't "cast us aside." If you want respect, earn it, hungry for a critique? Pm someone. Want votes? Team up with a damn flash maker. Comments? People get comments in this club. As for the etc I'm sure you can get that stuff here as well.

There is no better game then tetris, not the force unleashed, not gears of war (2), not even halo 3, nor will there be a better game then tetris...ever. Get over the fact you're addicted and play some tetris, hell I'm playing tetris in my head RIGHT NOW! I'm going to go play me some tetris!

So I've posted the start of this story to other writter's club and no one has said anything about it, so I'll put it here so no one can say anything about it XD. I named it "The Ruin," again just a start to a story because I have huge ADD, but I will continue a story if someone says they want me to continue a specific one, here it is;

-It's so cold- trembling with fear and misery in the small room filled with darkness lie a small boy, his only want and desire to escape the torment his captors put him through day in and day out. He did not know what was worse, the fact that he was going to be put through hell again or the isolation he felt inside the inescapable and cramped box.

-Why God? Why are you doing this to me?-

The eight year old boy had his parents killed in front of his face today, only after watching them flogged by the killing machines that watched over him. However, their beatings saved the boy that days beatings, and the days work. He was shaking uncontrollably now, crying to himself, then he realized,

-if they catch me crying, they'll kill me... I can't let them kill me!-

A flash of light filled the cramped environment, and illuminated the boy's face, this time however, the face was full of hope,

"Come on kid, get out of that box! We're getting you...oh my god..."

The automatic weapon bearing man had never seen such cruelties done to anyone, let alone a child in person. The boy looked desperately thin and tanned from months of hard labor, his hair had been cut short on purpose and he had cuts everywhere on his body. Dressed only in torn and ripped shorts, the cold area surrounding did not suit him, there was snow on the ground underneath the wheels of the commandeered transport and it was still snowing,

"Someone get a medic! He's bleeding!"

Called the black suited gas masked figure, the boy collapsed, letting the darkness take hold of him, he was free at last... or so he thought. .

It seems to me that writter's block has attacked people in multiple writter's clubs and crews across the web, so in a pathetic attempt to chainsaw it into submission, I bring to you a generator for just about anything you need except for a story itself!

http://www.seventhsanctum.com/

Also I might continue the story I posted a few post earlier, enjoy.

Goths, emos, all people who act dark just want to play a role, just like all people who say they are evil. All of them are pathetic human beings who allow themselves to be hurt for the abuse or just to be accepted. I'm TOTTALLY, not a sociapath that likes to manipulate them with brutal efficency...at all...yeah... don't date goths.

At 12/11/08 12:45 AM, Xavierthewarlord wrote: A little something to review...

Ronnie Brelbaoski sat quietly at the front desk in the small building that loomed in front of the Junkyard. She was 19, working at the Junkyard as a summer job to support her for college. She sighed, leaning back in the chair. She didn't understand why they even had these graveyard shifts- no one came in to claim anything at this hour, around 2:00 in the morning, which meant she was on her own until 7:00, when her shift ended. To make matters worse, she worked in a not-so-great part of town in Las Vegas, Nevada. The only protection she had against criminals was the Daisy Airstrike Pistol that was hidden under the desk- and even with that, it was only meant to look like a gun until the cops got there. She sighed again, opening a book, almost falling over in fear when the small bell clinked over the door. A man had entered, and appeared to be little more than 20, 21 at best. Blonde stubble covered his chin, hair hanging to his eyebrows. She stood. "Mm, you here to claim anything from the junkyard?" she asked, both hands under the desk, one on the handle of the Daisy Airstrike pistol, the other ready to press the PANIC button under the desk, which would set off a silent alarm and bring the cops. The man nodded, however. "Yeah, I lost something in the trash... it was like a playing card, only it was really special. Can I go have a look?" Ronnie nodded, heading towards the door to the Junk side of the Junkyard, unlocking it. She motioned to him. "I gotta go with you when its this late. Store Policy." He nodded, heading out into the pitch black night. As they left the comforting glow of the building, it seemed as if the dark devoured them. It wasn't just darkness, it was uncomfortable darkness, as it was a heaving, living creature, and they were the food. Ronnie yawned, seeming quite at home, and that made the man feel a little better. As he walked, he didn't pay attention to how far they walked- until they neared the edge of a small wooded in area. "Uh, ma'am, if I may ask-" he was cut off in mid-sentence, a led-pipe connecting to his head, a dull THUNK sounding out. Ronnie turned, smirking. "Good job, Ray, Leon. Take him on up to Mama's house, and don't you be laggin. You know she gets awful hunger pains." The two men nodded, dragging the now unconscious man into the forested area. Ronnie smiled, heading back towards the home. The Junkyard was alive now, people moving about as if they lived there- and they did. Hundreds of people lived in The Junkyard, including Ronnie. Ronnie was the only one to have ever left, and she kept on good-terms with the family by working there, brining in 'Fresh Produce' for Mama, the Queen of the people. She smiled as she locked the door to the Junkyard Land, the lock making a soft 'Click' as she began to clean up. She had finished her shift- it was 6:59 AM. As she prepared to leave, a black, un-marked van with 7 S.W.A.T members prepared to unload.

Its probably crap- I think it is, anyway. But I want some other feedback.

I think it's an interesting idea, great for a short story and wasn't in any way "crap." However, if you want to continue it I don't see it being so great.

Things to improve: I have noticed fromating seems to matter to the ng populus, so format it better

I got a bit confused with the diolouge, but with spacing it will be more clear

When you said the man was around 20, 21 best, it would be better to spell the numbers out or to make the sentence space the numbers further apart.

What you did good: I liked the story idea and I wasn't bored reading it

You did good describing the characters

I liked the ending, but you missed a great opportunity for violence

The story so far is realistic

There are more good and bad things, but I don't feel like listing them all, those are just the ones I thought needed pointed out the most, sorry for not reviewing sooner, forgot about you a while : /

I have to say dsm, your last rant and some points you made make me sick, however they do make sense. However, it's people with these beliefs of aggression that make me dislike a forum, every once in a while is good, but unless it's real, physical fighting, it's pointless.

At 12/18/08 02:57 PM, IblameLeoforthis wrote: Hi, I've been writing for awhile. I've been trying to finish a novel for who knows how long. I've started over 32 different novels, never getting past page 50.

I've never written a story for a flash, but I guess that might be fun sometime.

The reason I decided to join this group is because I'm currently working on a new novel, I think it could actually go somewhere, it has alot more potential than all the other ones I've started. I've shown the first two chapters to a few people and they're already in love with the story. Only, I have problems with writers block, so I thought if I joined you guys could help me through it.

So yea, may I join?

The first page states all are welcome, so yes you can join. As for writter's block, I posted a link to get over it, but here are my fovourite methods; Read a book, play a video game, look at images for about 15 minutes, work out, and the best one of all...free write. Here is how free writing works:

You get in front of an empty work document on your comp, or you get a pencil/pen and paper. Then you start writing and DON'T STOP UNTIL THE TIME YOU SET BEFORE YOU START. A good time to do this is 30 seconds to 1min. Make sure you don't stop writing even if you get a spelling error, and don't stop even if it doesn't make sense. When your done, look back through it and see what you wrote, even if you don't like it you might get an idea or clear some of your writter's block.

Think your unique? Make sure you avoid cliches, here is a list: http://www.listology.com/content_show.cf m/content_id.14135
I was looking for cliche endings to make sure a current story I'm working on doesn't suck, and I came across this, enjoy.

This is mainly to bump the topic, but I do have a story I decided to work on, review it and tell me how you hate it. =)

"Go, go, go! Get in there!" yelled the squad leader as he pointed to a nearby entrance. The team of five obeyed the order, rushing out of the open field sprawling with bodies and carnage from mortar shells and bombing runs.

"Holy shit sir! Please don't make us do that again!"

"Shut the fuck up private, we don't want to hear your bitchin' right now!" the squad leader shouted over the sound of grenades and bullets. A gas grenade exploded near by, but the team's black gas mask would effectively filter anything harmful in the air, and their skin couldn't be affected because it was covered from head to toe from boots to gloves, all black to guarantee protection against gas and enhance stealth.

"Someone get a FB in there!" the squad leader ordered. Three of the units threw one of their flash bang grenades into the next room, cries of pain came from it, bits of faces and chunks of ears from the horrible noise and blast scattered on the floor, the people unaffected by the flash bangs took cover, some of the ones who were effected opened fire, hitting their allies in the process.

"Got one," the team scout said after hitting one of the people taking cover. He had his visor up from his mask, giving him his peripheral vision back as well as greater depth perception. Satisfaction glowed in his brown eyes, a cold satisfaction and pride not often seen in other units, he was the squad leader's favorite.

"Clear the room!" was the order, but from the word, 'clear,' the squad had already hurled fragmentation grenades at every corner of the room, spiral searched it, then proceeded to take down the rest of the people left in the room.

"Clear!" the word came, all was quiet... for now.

At 12/11/08 05:17 PM, Xorias wrote:

:: Well in the past, I've had teachers who've critiqued my use of the scenes, the characters dialogue, etc., but I am glad to finally get some input on the humor of it.

I try to do "Frisky Dingo" style of humor, but which I mean I try to do plot it just enough to where it really doesn't make any sense unless you've seen the previous episodes.

Also, does the length feel like its long enough because I can never figure out how long it would be animated and whether or not I should add more dialogue. I was aiming for about 3 to 4 minutes with this one and the second one I'm aiming to double that.

I'm guessing it would take about two to three minutes if the talking is like normal every day life, so you did good there, the length is long enough, people only have so long of an attention span, but if you put in in a flash or just do the dialouge it would be easier to follow, but it is a script after all. Good job again.

Xorias, I'm not sure how you critque a script, but that was decently funny, and could see it as a newgrounds flash or a comic. Great work made me day so far.

At 12/10/08 09:07 PM, gamerk1d51 wrote: oh, and here my stats:

15 different stories (on a thumbdrive somewhere)
indefinite help with flash storylines over on other major flash sites (i have friends on kongregate.com, crazymonkeygames.com, armorgames.com, etc.)
been consistently writing for about 4 years freelance (outside of school)
enjoy reviewing stories, offering critique to those who want (and sometimes those who need) it
am currently working on a Halo 3 machinima script

i hope i'm in!

You might as well be "in" already, even those with no writting experience but are willing to learn are welcome in, by authority of the first post. Welcome to the writer's club.

At 12/10/08 07:19 PM, Peaceblossom wrote:

At 12/10/08 06:46 PM, zbox101 wrote: Stuff

I might have actually read that, except for the fact that skimming through it I saw Nazis, robots, drunk people, and Chuck Norris.

Not to mention a distinct lack of paragraphs.

Well it doesn't matter what you think, and I honestly don't care. I wrote that in less then five minutes with the intention of writting something as retarded as possible, based on the fact it had to be between 300 and 600 words. I don't care if anyone has an opinion on something I can make better for this story, I wrote it because I was bored and felt like writting something, and this was all too convenient.

If it wasn't this, it would have been super fetus, so you better be happy with this!

"You have no where to run now!" shouted the drunk man piloting a giant robot made by his father. The giant robot smashed a house flat with its huge foot, the drunk man rolled out of his chair with laughter, and accidentally fell on a button that made a laser pulse out of the robot's giant palm, incinerating three houses and melting the concrete and cement from the street and sidewalk, "oops," the drunk man said, "I spilt my beer," the beer had soaked into the robot controls, what happened next could only be described as 'sheer awesomeness.' The fifty foot metallic terror took off on his boot thrusters and plowed through two skyscrapers, sent cars of all types flying, and burnt a pathway showing exactly where the robot had flown, "sweet," the drunk man had found another beer, and started to drink it, soaking his already beer soaked beer as the robot continued to plow through countless homes and random objects, "there you a--re...I'LL TAKE ALL O' YA!" the drunk man piloted his robot straight into a brewery, the beer unleashed in an unrealistic tidal wave that demolished smaller structures and swept the legs off of people. In the drunk man's mind, he had just beat the level fifty-two dolphin Nazi's that had been plaguing the realm in the seventy-eighth dimension. Now, he took aim at flying seals of doom, which in reality were American air force bombers, "IMA EAT YA" the man fell onto the controls, making his robot shoot its automatic turrets at the planes, making them ignite into balls of flame. After the man had rolled off the console, the robot pulled out a twenty-five foot sword and proceeded to cut buildings and tanks into shreds. Without an operator, the robot fell onto the ground with a huge *thunk,* causing the ground to roll in a wave that collapsed trees and formed streets into shattered pieces of debris. When the drunkard regained his consciousness, he vomited on the control panel, making the jets from the boots ignite, burning an orphanage and thrusting him into a lake. This incident was covered up by the government, and blamed on Chuck Norris, whom wasn't sued because the government wasn't brave enough to sue.

Seeing sense the oh so great developers never made an edit button or I just can't find it, don't tell me I have spelling errors in it, I know just try to figure them out. I did type it rather fast after all, it was either half asleep and quick or not at all, and I would rather have it fast and half asleep then not at all because I need something fun and quiet to do. More then ever now. =(

So.. I finally got some time to focus on this story, it's the prologue to the thing I posted on page 70 of this thread. So here it is, I sort of enjoyed it, but I'm sort of busy so I wasn't too focused. Enjoy.

"Now... now is the time to finish this," words coming from the leading knight, his white armor, perfect in front of the horizon, as if dusk was made to make him look like a leader. His white cap flowing with the wind, his white hood casting a shadow over his black skin, everyone's eyes admired him, "we have planned this assault for some time now, the fortress must fall for the good of the comradeship!" all but one of the knights raised their swords in unison and shouted, "for the comradeship!" Xazcel was the one who did not. . He was the only other white clad knight, wearing a helm over his already emotionless face. Xazcel had already lost his brother for the greater good of the comradeship, and every casualty they suffered was like losing another. Unlike the knight leader, he was white, didn't have a cape, and thought hoods suitable for only archers. Aside from those differences, they looked similar in almost every other way, save for the paladin symbol on Xazcel's chest. His steel helm came up from the back of the head with an inward curve, over the head in an arc, and a steel gate like mask covered his face, able to be lifted up and put down by the hinges on top. His shoulders had white coverings had dragon teeth lining the perimeter , teeth he had pulled himself. The torso was molded to fit his body, light in weight, revealing his six pack abs and making the yellow paladin seal seem to stick out, "I hope you know what your doing," the voice from Xazcel seemed to have struck the knight leader like a lead hammer, every step in his heavy leggings and metallic boots to move closer seeming to make the invisible hammer strike again, "there will be losses, do not expect this to go well." The knight leader felt confident in his men, but he had put casualties out of his mind, who would need those types of thoughts at a time like this? Any form of doubt could bring down everything, "don't worry brother, we will prevail!" Xazcel turned and walked toward the planned zone to start the assault, and only replied, "you haven't earned the right to call me brother, move your troops into position." Night was approaching, and soon, the oppressors of the land would pay for their sins.

Shinning over distant peaks, the pale moonlight shone down upon the fortress, casting a cruel and oppressive shadow, as oppressive as they are to the people. It is true that this isn't their main base of operation, but it is one of their main outpost, and it has hurt the common people far too long. The four towers on each corner paled in comparison to the main tower in the center, the height of the black tower seems to scrape the sky. Arrows of fire had rained down into the fortress courtyard, -the attack has begun,- thought Xazcel. While the flame rained, the steel clad knights charged. As the first wave charged into the gates, the enemy started to awaken, causing quite an uproar of activity. None of this mattered to Xazcel, his mission was to assassinate the leader of the outpost and he knew exactly where she would be, underground. The second wave ran through, and some got cut down before a merciless onslaught of arrows. One arrow pierced the throat of a templar in the center of the group, causing blood spray to blind two other knights, and made one hesitate, meaning he too fell to the ground. By the fifth wave, the area around the broken gate way, (thanks to the knights) was littered in bodies. To Xazcel, it was beauty of the highest kind, seeing men so bravely give their lives for a cause they deem to be for the benefit of all. Unlike their motives however, Xazcel was doing this for a favor he owed to his old master. The twelfth wave had gone through, Xazcel picked up a kite shield, something he didn't normally use, but his second sword that he usually had with him would only way him down and doesn't defend against arrows as well as the kite shield. The fourteenth wave charged, and so did Xazcel. Smoke and debris clouded the thirty foot gate entryway as the wave charged. Dust enveloped Xazcel, as bodies from the fourteenth wave enveloped arrows. After breaking through the fog, Xazcel could clearly see the entryway to the shortest tower. He ran for it, keeping his shield in front of his upper torso and face. By the time he got to the wooden door, more then ten arrows were sticking out of the front of the shield. After behind the cover of the door, he sliced the arrows off of the shield with his royal sword. Now he made his way to the target below.

There would be minimal guard, still more waves were coming, and the fortress would need more men to defend it. But as he ran down the empty corridors and stairwells, it was completely empty. Finally he had reached a door at the end of a long hallway, it was so far underground that the sound of carnage and destruction or any form of sound from above couldn't be heard. Xazcel kicked down the door and stormed in, and couldn't believe what he saw. Red robed archers all pointed at him from every conceivable side of the circular room. Their red hoods masking their faces, the dark stone walls making them all the more evil and ceremonial looking. In the middle of them all stood a beautiful woman with a magnificent gown that spread far over the floor, its black spread covering the stone-brick floor, climbing up to her shoulders covering most of her huge bosom. Her pale skin gave her a deathly charm, her green eyes and long, black hair disturbed as well as enchanted Xazcel. The sound of strings tightening echoed around the room, "oh shit," was his only words or thought as he rolled backward and lowered himself behind his shield as much as possible. Arrows blasted his shield off and knocked him back a few feet. It was now Xazcel started to run.

He ran up countless stairs and through as many hallways, but seemed to have been hunted by arrows. So far, three had hit him, leaving his back hurt, but not pierced thanks to his armor. Then he opened a familiar door, and in it stood a surprised man. Xazcel knee smashed the man, threw him to the ground and decapitated him with his heavy steel boot. Then he continued to run, his breathing was getting heavy, and it was hot in his armor. He approached a wooden door, and a few arrows dented his helmet. When he opened the door, small creeks of blood flowed everywhere, bodies twitched on the floor, and heads lined the spears guarding the fortress. It smelled like crap mixed in with bleach and vinegar, except worse. But the worst of it all seemed to be the two swordsmen who attacked Xazcel, who drew his blade and parried the first man's sword with a circular hand motion, then sidestepped, causing the other man to stab the once eager adversary. The chain mail bearing soldier couldn't remove his sword, so his legs were cleared off by Xazcel, and he was left to bleed to death next to his companion. Taking advantage of this moment, Xazcel fled to the wood thicket out of the gate in which he came.

At 12/5/08 10:25 PM, talonCT wrote: So I accidentally posted links to my short story in the general thread. first time I didn't know you weren't supposed to do that and the other 2 were accidents due to ignorance. Don't hate me.

Anyway I'm an avid reader and game player, big newgrounds fan, and I've been writing academically for years now (lets just say I'm on the six year plan). I'm new to writing fiction and I could really use some assistance. Nothing of mine has ever been published in the real world or here but I'm hopping to change that. I feel bad that I can't submit any flash because... well I really suck at it... its bad, I know nothing about the medium. So, for your consideration, here's the link to my one and only short story. enjoy and I'm looking forward to any input.

Johnny Get Your Gun.

It's about the courage and compassion of a soldier in enemy territory. I've dedicated it to the troops and since it was rather spontaneous it needs work.

thanks, talonCT

It's easier to write fiction then it is to write non-fiction, you can even take a real event and twist it to your own means. Fiction writing does not have to be realistic. As a matter of fact, a lot of it isn't. The important thing is to have fun with it, and you don't have to write fiction here, recomended though, only so much stuff that happened in real life is worth reading.

zbox:

One thing strikes me as odd; You brag.

If there's one thing I've learned it's that those who talk big are %90 less likely to be able to follow through with it. I have only ever met ONE person who was that outwardly convinced of his own skill that I could not beat, whereas I've met more people than I can remember that showed me up without trying who, before and after, made no excessive claims to superiority. Said people may have been confident in their own skills, but they did NOT talk about how good they were, did NOT talk about how many asses they've kicked, and generally only talked about those who've beaten them.

There is something to be said for confidence, for without it nobody can win at anything, but overconfidence is worse than insecurity and is generelly an indicator of it.

All I'm saying is that although you may well be very skilled, and I know that you DO practice and have an interest in martial arts, it sounds to me like you're full of shit and are elaborating to look cool on the internet.

No hard feelings, just honesty.

No hard feelings taken, I'm actually a little sad this didn't come sooner, this thread is highly inactive. However, I am honestly not a very confident person unless it comes to fighting, I love it, I love being hit, I love hitting people, and I down right love the feeling of fighting. It's better when it's respectful, but if there is a good reason, I fight. Honestly, there are some things I didn't put in my last post here BECUASE I haven't gotten great at them yet, sure I'm so-so but I would rather put what I'm good at so if I get pm's asking for help I know what I'm talking about. As for showing people up or looking good on the internet, it's time for me to have no hard feelings toward you, if my purpose was to look good on the internet, I could care less. I don't care what you think, or frankly, anyone else. So one may ask, "why post what I did?" Because I'm damn good at it and it's something I've earned to talk about. I've worked hard and had to put in a lot of effort to get where I am, and having the feeling I have to be able to go almost anywhere without worrying about being outmatched or beat down makes me feel safe. And lastly remember, I did not come to this forum to be doubted and labelled as a liar, if your views are continued to be expressed in the eyes of others and no one really needs my help here, then I don't have to come back.

At 12/3/08 11:31 PM, Hunter2091 wrote: When you vote on 5 flash submissions, Do you actually watch what your voting on? Do you realize your changing the face of the submission? or are you simply leveling up?

When you vote on an Under Judgment flash, are you aware that by voting 5 on a good flash, could leed it to the front page?

discuss.

(No its not because i have an under judgment flash :| )

You have a valid point, however, as both a community service doing, do gooder Christian, and a super mega ass (grammatically correct title, live with it) I relish in blamming things and think about what will happen if I protect certain flashes. Just to further contridict my every aspect of being, I also enjoy voting 5 on excessively violent submissions, and 0 on anything including nudity. Everything else, depends, am I more of an ass, or a thoughtful and considerate Christian that day?

At 12/3/08 07:12 AM, DemonsRemorse wrote: And no, I don't mean the drum part.

http://www.collegehumor.com/video:189095 7

I don't know if this has been posted, but while I was searching through the recent College Humor videos I found this guy. As much as I protest Dragonforce, I thought this was amazing.

I have to disagree with you about Dragonforce, but you can think what you think, that aside, that was the most awesome thing I have seen to day, or yesterday, or even a week ago. AI believe it will continue to be for probably another day or two.

At 12/3/08 09:57 AM, cHunter wrote: I love life as well.

I'm so clever.

I just have to say... that was epic, and I don't give a fuck what anyone else says about it. On a different note, life is cool, he is actually a productive member on newgrounds.

At 12/3/08 09:10 AM, AssBreaker wrote: Love is that when a special little person in your life takes a toothpick and carves your heart out whit it, dips it in to a pool of acid while the nerves are still intact chews the remains for a while and spits them out
and then tells you "we should be just friends."

Aside from the KoToR hk 47 definition of love, that's the best I've ever heard, and yes, I do wish I had your username... just being honest.

At 12/3/08 12:19 AM, firemaker60 wrote: Actually, the opposite of love is not hate, it is indifference...

My post still stands for me either way, I am quite apathetic to most things.