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Count Quacula

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About Count Quacula

  • Rank
    Brute
  • Birthday April 30

Profile Information

  • Gender
    Male
  • Location
    'merica
  • Interests
    Candlelit dinners and long walks on the beach.

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  • Gamertag
    Count Quacula
  • Skype
    collin.anonymous
  1. Grey side. I wouldn't call myself a "good" person, but I wouldn't say I'm "bad" either. Sometimes I do good things, and sometimes I do bad things, like most people.
  2. Maybe this is a little late, but good job. I'm very impressed, you are very talented.
  3. I might be going, but I'll competing and then mostly spectating once my team gets knocked out, so I probably won't be able to help, sorry.
  4. My bad, September is prostate cancer awareness month ostensibly, I'm unable to edit posts on mobile, but I still think it's a little strange that we discern between cancer types for months devoted to raising funding for curing cancer.
  5. I have a question. Why breast cancer? I'm not saying it's not a big problem, because it is, but breast cancer is neither the most common nor the most lethal according to the following links. I'm unaware of a prostate cancer awareness month, and who isn't aware of breast cancer? I understand that this post is a little late, but haven't been around this forum for a while. http://www.cancer.gov/cancertopics/types/commoncancers http://calorielab.com/labnotes/20101113/most-deadly-cancer-types/
  6. There's no longer a crotch plate, which definitely makes things more accessible, so I'm for the new armor.
  7. I haven't had the time to post very much recently, and I found this really old copypasta while going through one of my folders, so I thought I'd share it with you. !MESSAGE BEGINS We made a mistake. That is the simple, undeniable truth of the matter, however painful it might be. The flaw was not in our Observatories, for those machines were as perfect as we could make, and they showed us only the unfiltered light of truth. The flaw was not in the Predictor, for it is a device of pure, infallible logic, turning raw data into meaningful information without the taint of emotion or bias. No, the flaw was within us, the Orchestrators of this disaster, the sentients who thought themselves beyond such failings. We are responsible. It began a short while ago, as these things are measured, less than 6^6 Deeli ago, though I suspect our systems of measurement will mean very little by the time anyone receives this transmission We detected faint radio signals from a blossoming intelligence 2^14 Deelis outward from the Galactic Core, as photons travel. At first crude and unstructured, these leaking broadcasts quickly grew in complexity and strength, as did the messages they carried. Through our Observatories we watched a world of strife and violence, populated by a barbaric race of short-lived, fast breeding vermin. They were brutal and uncultured things which stabbed and shot and burned each other with no regard for life or purpose. Even their concepts of Art spoke of conflict and pain. They divided themselves according to some bizarre cultural patterns and set their every industry to cause of death. They terrified us, but we were older and wiser and so very far away, so we did not fret. Then we watched them split the atom and breach the heavens within the breadth of one of their single, short generations, and we began to worry. When they began actively transmitting messages and greetings into space, we felt fear and horror. Their transmissions promised peace and camaraderie to any who was listening, but we had watched them for too long to buy into such transparent deceptions. They knew we were out here, and they were coming for us. The Orchestrators consulted the Predictor, and the output was dire. They would multiply and grow and flood out their home system like some uncountable tide of Devourer worms, consuming all that lay in their path. It might take 6^8 Deelis, but they would destroy us if left unchecked. With aching carapaces we decided to act, and sealed our fate. The Gift of Mercy was 8^4 strides long with a mouth 2/4 that in diameter, filled with many 4^4 weights of machinery, fuel and ballast. It would push itself up to 2/8th of light speed with its onboard fuel,and then begin to consume interstellar Primary Element 2/2 to feed its unlimited acceleration. It would be traveling at nearly light speed when it hit. They would never see it coming. Its launch was a day of mourning, celebration, and reflection. The horror of the act we committed weighed heavily upon us all; the necessity of our crime did little to comfort us. The Gift had barely cleared outer cometary halo when the mistake was realized, but it was too late. The Gift could not be caught, could not be recalled or diverted from its path. The architects and work crews, horrified at the awful power of the thing upon which they labored, had quietly self-terminated in droves, walking unshielded into radiation zones, neglecting proper null pressure safety or simple ceasing their nutrient consumption until their metabolic functions stopped. The appalling cost in lives had forced the Orchestrators to streamline the Gift's design and construction. There had been no time for the design or implementation of anything beyond the simple, massive engines and the stabilizing systems. We could only watch in shame and horror as the light of genocide faded into infrared against the distant void. They grew, and they changed, in a handful of lifetimes they abolished war, abandoned their violent tendencies and turned themselves to the grand purpose of life and Art. We watched them remake first themselves, and then their world. The frail, soft bodies gave way to gleaming metals and plastics, they unified their people through an omnipresent communication grid and produced Art of such power and emotion, the likes of which the Galaxy has never seen before. Or again, because of us. They converted their home world into a paradise (by their standards) and many 10^6s of them poured out into the surrounding system with a rapidity and vigor that we could only envy. With bodies built to survive every environment from the day lit surface of their innermost world, to the atmosphere of their largest gas giant and the cold void in-between, they set out to sculpt their system into something beautiful. At first we thought them simple miners, stripping the rocky planets and moons for vital resources, but then we began to see the purpose to their constructions, the artworks carved into every surface, and traced across the system in glittering lights and dancing fusion trails. And still, our terrible Gift approached. They had less than 2^2 Deeli to see it, following so closely on the trail of its own light. In that time, oh so brief even by their fleeting lives, more than 10^10 sentients prepared for death. Lovers exchanged last words, separated by worlds and the tyranny of light speed. Their planet side engineers worked frantically to build sufficient transmission infrastructure to upload the countless masses with the necessary neural modifications, while those above dumped lifetimes of music and literature from their data banks to make room for passengers. Those lacking the required hardware or the time to acquire it consigned themselves to death, lashed out in fear and pain, or simply went about their lives as best they could under the circumstances. The Gift arrived suddenly, the light of its impact visible in our skies, shining bright and cruel even to the unaugmented ocular receptor. We watched and we wept for our victims, dead so many Deelis before the light of their doom had even reached us. Many 6^4s of those who had been directly or even tangentially involved in the creation of the Gift sealed their spiracles with paste as a final penance for the small roles they had played in this atrocity. The light dimmed, the dust cleared and our Observatories refocused upon the place where their shining blue world had once hung in the void, and found only dust and pale gleam of an orphaned moon, wrapped in a thin, burning wisp of atmosphere that had once belonged to its parent. Radiation and relativistic shrapnel has wiped out much of the innermost system, and continent sized chunks of molten rock carried screaming ghosts outward at interstellar escape velocities, damned to wander the great void for an eternity. The damage was apocalyptic, but not complete, from the shadows of the outer worlds, tiny points of light emerged, thousands of fusion trails of single ships and world ships and everything in between, many 10^6s of survivors in flesh and steel and memory banks, ready to rebuild. For a few moments we felt relief, even joy, and we were filled with the hope that their culture and Art would survive the terrible blow we had dealt them. Then came the message, tightly focused at our star, transmitted simultaneously by hundreds of their ships. "We know you are out there, and we are coming for you." !MESSAGE ENDS
  8. I want all of Superman's powers, so I could fly around, see through walls and look at girls taking showers.
  9. The amount of things that could be done with the ability to place bots would be endless, simply saying that fighting them is boring is not reason enough to disregard the idea. I would like to see it, I've seen people talking about this since the release, of Halo 3, but I doubt we'll ever see it. People were able to place bots in Halo CE, but i'm not sure if that was done via a simple program or actual coding. It could probably be done, the only reasons I see for it not being done would be disk space and the amount of work required to put something like that into Forge. Again, I doubt we'll ever see it. What I would like to see would be the ability to place objects similar to hills on the map and give them names, so that you could actually name parts of your map that would be visible under your radar instead of what is there by default. But alas, that too is probably incredibly wishful thinking.
  10. I disagree. Say there's one zombie, and they manage to infect one person. If the person survives, regardless of what happens to the original zombie, the can run away, seek medical help, die, reanimate, and infect someone. This part would be most the most essential for the virus spreading. If the, at first, few, infected we dispatched, then the zombie apocalypse would be over before it started. But, if the first zombie(s) are able to infect multiple people, then zombies hordes will quickly amalgamate. Each infected person will move to a different location, likely infecting, multiple people, and the number of infected in increase exponentially. I believe the latter of the two scenarios to be more likely, unless some sort of military or militia intervened quickly enough, which could very well be a short end to a zombie apocalypse. And now concerning your assertions, which include the rotting of flesh, weather, wild animals and the inability to feel pain. I believe that them being unable to feel pain would only play into their favor, and would essentially negate the dangers of the other mentioned hindrances. Flesh doesn't rot so quickly that the would be rendered immobile in a matter of weeks, days or even months, and the flesh that did rot would only be repudiated, the undead would be completely nonplussed. Weather severe enough to completely immobilize those that cannot feel pain is simply not ubiquitous. Sandstorms could no doubt stop the undead in their tracks, but they are ephemeral. Snow storms could delay the zombies, but they too are transient. And on top of that, even in a time and area of common snow storms, weather conditions bad enough to completely stop the undead would not be consistent, at most they might throw the zombies off course, which isn't a problem, seeing as they don't even have a sense of direction. They kind of just wander around. And the number of wild animals capable of stopping the undead en masse isn't large enough, and that's assuming that the animals would go out of their way to fight the undead, which they would not. The biggest threat to the possibility of a world controlled by zombies would be a group of people joining together to stop the infected, which is something you did mention. Then again, you could always argue that my points are almost completely based on conjecture, seeing that zombies aren't real and we can't know for sure what they would be like. And now is the time that I realize the absurdity of the fact that I just spent the better part of ~30 minutes giving my two cents on why I think that if zombies did exist, they would likely emerge victorious over the human race, and it probably won't even be read by anyone. Maybe a zombie apocalypse is really just a metaphor for the image we as a species see when we look in the mirror. That we destroy each other and ourselves without a second thought, just because we can. Maybe I should elaborate on that last sentiment, but I'm tired. Goodnight, internet.
  11. As depressing as the thought is, we're all dying, we just have a bit more time than two months. So why not do today what you would do if you only had two months to live? I'd probably just sit around all day playing video games and smoking myself into an early grave, same as every day.
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