DAISHI

So of the Freelancers here, have you all associated in the game at all?

Yeah I hear ya. One of the big things I was wondering was "what type" was freelancing, or if there is even such a thing. Are the casuals freelancing the most? the Heavy RPers like Freelance Wizard?

Hey everyone. I was wondering if I could get a discussion going on how many people are freelancers... and not necessarily by choice. This thought came to mind as I was browsing through the different shells and realizing how, numerically, we have so many people in the RPC and so few linkshells accepting applicants. Anyone want to get in on this discussion?

I've noticed that the handful of registered linkshells have an average of 15-20 members. Assuming ten linkshells at a pace of 20 per, that means only 200 people are in linkshells. That leaves a LOT of RP freelancers. I'm not sure how I feel about that. Not that I'm against freelancing. More like, how many of those aren't freelancing by choice?

2.5 TB > 1.5 TB

Maybe it's not optimized?

BTW when did video cards start becoming larger than the mother boards in computers? And by a significant amount.

I love Final Fantasy X.

Update Windows Vista P4 2.66 Ghz 6 gigs ram GTX 480 w/1.5 gigs ram 3278 on high quality Should be noted there was never so much as a hitch in the display of the video. I'm wondering if it will go faster without background process. I'd reinstalled Visa and had stuff installing in the background and such.

Seen the Street Fighter one before, loved it.

Otherwise titled, gamers use gift of being overweight to sit on robber.

A shine lit upon the bald man's head, his unhinged grin falling on the newcomers. "We have guests," he said, tongue falling out of his mouth and licking at the shimmering alcohol that still remained on his lips. "But who isn't a guest in this wench? She's a whore for sure and her occupants all prostitutes." His fingers went to the interior of his long coat, ripping another dagger from his chest. "So what'll it be?" he asked holding the dagger upwards, its edges bare and deadly. "Perhaps you've heard the offer? This is a public advertisement, after all. I'm looking for a few good men. I suppose a few good women, if they have what it takes, and I'm not talking about what's sitting on your chest." He laughed a little, infinitely amused at himself. "As for the rest of you, feel free to find me. Or if you're thinking about coming after me to appease your leash holder, then tell Fikker he's free to find me here. I'm waiting to slit his throat anyway." His eyes grew wide, the whites of them shimmering in the light, almost as if the emotional rush of the moment had put tears to them. "Now make your decision dogs. Either you're ready for some fun, or my money's not good enough, and either way I'm bored with the lot of you."

Woop woop, just wanted to make sure you hadn't forgotten, as I'd seen a few other posts for other threads. >> I look forward to it! Yeah was waiting for action to catch up to me. Plus writing a story post requires me to put on some music and sit down for an hour to let it flow. I haven't forgotten

(That's what happens when a thread goes three pages in a day. People feel like they're not able to keep up with the story)

The large, tumor like lump that hung over Goobbue's drooping eye twitched at the noise, his lumbering head turning like a rock rolling on a hill. His jaw, hanging, bore teeth that looked like hammers set within his gums. There were traces of saliva at the corners of the man's mouth, that large, camel like tongue licking the bottom of his lip, his body tensing. A finger went up to his mouth as he gazed at the short Lalafell, being carried up the stairs, his eyes going to the Maestro. "Eat?" he asked, his voice dense and harsh, his head turning back to the small being. The Maestro raised an eyebrow, cocking his head backwards, smiling as he did. "What, that? I don't know Goobbue I'm not sure he'll be much more than a snack for you. Besides, he looks kind of rubbery." Maestro held up a fork, twirling it between his fingertips as he did. "Course, we could put him in the fire and toughen him up just a bit. I'm not going to touch him though, not my kind of meal." Sitting on the opposite end of the table, the Leader suddenly coughed abrasively, trying to catch their attention. "Excuse me gentleman," he said, voice low but firm. "We have food already on the table. We don't need to get you anything else, Goobbue." Maestro turned back to the Leader, shrugging. "He's right Goobbue. We have enough food. For now." He chuckled.

I withdrew from the thread because my last post got removed and completely made the chef competition nonsensical. But I suppose I can try and make it work again.

The man with spectacles suddenly had his hand on the Maestro's shoulder, pulling him aside. "If you'll excuse my companion, you'll find he's simply very excitable," he said, speaking with business-like professionalism. "He's simply had a hard week. Haven't you, Maestro?" The bald man pointed the edge of the knife towards the man who'd greeted them. "Hungry? I'm more than willing to cook," he replied, opening his coat wide and revealing a string of grenades on either side, their pins hung to a string that dangled in the air. "But like Leader said... we're here to eat." His face lowered, his teeth sparkling a magnificent white as he bared them through his wide smile. "I'm sure we'll have time to play later." The Leader pushed the glass up the bridge of his nose, mumbling to Faythiel. "No alcohol please."

The bald man smiled, glancing at this man, hand on his blade. His tongue flicked out from his lips, sliding upon the upper carnivores of his teeth, a smile creasing along his face. "Are you our waiter?" he asked, moving to the newcomer, sliding alongside him, his right hand passing up the man's back and up to the man's arm, his fingers settling firmly at his shoulder. "I just... I just hate, hate to be kept waiting." "Maestro..." cautioned the Leader, taking a step to the two of them. "Don't you think we'd better eat?" "Oh, of course," he said, shaking his head, lower lip turned outwards as if mocking his associate. "I'm dying to eat." His face turned back to the man at his side, pulling him in closer, so that their faces were only a few inches from each other's. "You know, we live in a culture where people hate to get close. They just... I don't know what what it is, it's like they just don't want to be next to each other. Some culture's men will hold other men's hands." He stopped a minute, grinning, eyes looking wildly at those of the man who'd stepped up to meet them. "Not that that's my cup of tea, but you know, we could do with a little more friendliness, don't you think?" The man who'd stepped up to the trio seemed unsure of what to say, confused by the bald headed Maestro. "Well like we were saying," he continued, his left hand sliding up his stomach, moving along the vest which he wore, "We're all just... well we're hungry. It's been a while, and the big guy over there..." His head nodded towards the seven foot giant. "He's got real exotic eating habits. You don't want to to know what his diet consists of. That's Goobbue, by the way. I'm Maestro but you can call me Jill for all I care." A glint of light could be seen as a blade the length of a man's hand sudden flashed from the Maestro's chest, his hand raising the blade to the stranger's neck in a second. "Now about dinner."

In Remembrance of War Season, and all the noble Agarnorn who gave their lives on the sands of Altepa: Under sun burning bright They went to the west And went by the road most known They gathered large And raised up the flag And walked as the sun did show They had not guns But bows and swords They looked to the western cliffs They marched to the edge And then without rest Did go to war's sweet kiss Fathers and sons Mothers and daughters None would be spared that day From all of the land They went to the west They went on their final way Into those rocks On Altepa's sand Through the hills they marched to the fore And saw in the eyes Where their enemy lied The color of the coming war Then all came to be In war did they see The spirit of their fighting men They raised up the voice And having no choice Gave their bodies to the weapon's edge Their courage showed And blood was sown That freedom come the harvest day The world would not see But the people'd be Free because of the price t'was paid

"Come one, come all, gentlemen," the Maestro said, gathering a crowd about him. "Now maybe you caught word of that fire at the Bismarck. Shame, shame." He held up a finger. "Worth a laugh though, and worth some money if you bothered stripping the dead once the deed was done. Now, I'm not saying I was there." He paused, taking a step away from the table. "Though, truth is, I was. An innocent bystander, but a bystander who's got what all of you might want. I mean jobs of course, the sort of jobs you all are looking for. Something a little exciting, something with some profit to it. Maybe, just maybe, something that'll make you rich." They were a stupid looking lot for the most part, a bunch of easily manipulated ruffians with scars on their faces and chests that when added would make up their I.Q.s. "Now, some of you may or may not have heard of the Eldamane Trader's Consortium." He paused, eyes going to the roof. "Wait. Is that Eldamane Trading Company? Trader's Post?" His foot tapped on the floor, his eyes scanning the wood for a moment before he looked up again. "Whatever it is, the point was this..." he said, reaching into his pocket and taking out a handful of coins, which he tossed casually into the air. Immediately a couple of the brutes began to push each other out of the way, forcing themselves to the fore as they attempted to grab at the money. The Maestro shook his head. "See? You all must be hungry. I'm guessing your boss doesn't feed you well. I've got the hunch some of you work for One-Eye. Maybe some of you work for Fikker." He took a knife from his vest, tossing it downwards through the top of the table. "Well guess what gentlemen, you all work for coin, and that's exactly what I'm offering." The smile he'd worn to now suddenly faded, his face becoming emotionless and cold. "What I want to know is, which one of you is a killer?"

A bald man stepped inside, grinning from ear to ear, his eyes glistening. At his side, a well dressed looking businessman, spectacles on his nose, beckoned for their third companion to walk in. The giant, eight feet tall and seven hundred pounds, looked malformed, his jaw gaping open and eyes unsettled. The bald man's chest was lined by knives, his belt the same, while the well dressed looking gentleman was armed with a saber at his waist. The giant held two large maces in his hands, though none looked especially excitable at the moment. "Well Leader, think we can find anyone here?" the bald man asked, his teeth grinding against each other as he settled into a spot. "After all the nonsense you put us through in Limsa Lominsa? Maestro, you'll be lucky if we're not thrown to the wolves here for you idiocy." The bald man laughed, looking up. "Where's the service around here? You'd think with a big city like Ul'dah close by these people would want to keep their customers happy!" The giant took a finger, running it inside his lips and sucking on it, looking for all the world like a deviant baby. "Goobbue hungry." "Oh, biiiig surprise there," Maestro growled, passing an angry grin at the giant before looking once more about. "IS THERE A WAITER IN THE HOUSE!?"

I'll be honest I had plenty of times in the Crawler's Nest where I just let my guy wail while I watched TV.

Well I'm interested in seeing where this goes. The truest test will be to see how many people help get it off the ground.

This just made me want to hook up my computer to my 50' HDTV