Nearly two years ago, Appleswitch bequeathed the power of administration upon Ryoko. What did Bobwithkeycard think? Cue shitstorm. I was fiddling around on this site earlier and I realized that Ryoko actually does a smooth job; so smooth that I didn’t think about it, and indeed, Ryoko’s admin powers seemed to me like unto a myth rather than a reality. (Kind of like CLIQUE.) What is the thought of our fair populace?

ahuxley was nice enough to list some bad CLIQUE habits for us:

• tight tunnels
• light up stairways
• ledges
• dead ends
• lots of detail in a box room
• strip lights along a long straight tight tunnel
• doors to no where
• height as some ‘feature’
• all the junk people pass of as ‘creative’

This is a very convenient list, because if you want to be in the CLIQUE, you will never get there without first making a map with all these bad habits. And, if you want to rebel against the CLIQUE, then you need to make a map with none of these bad habits.

<ray>: all you have to do is pay your CLIQUE taxes

…And then it was law.

You may not be able to tell from this simple sentence, but it was implied that I was to have the burden of coming up with the rules for paying the CLIQUE tax. I don’t really think paying the CLIQUE money is a good idea, and I feel terrible for having to come up with the rules and enforce them, but it’s my job. I think you’ll be able to tell from these simple rules that I’m looking out for everyone’s best interests.

First of all, all non-CLIQUE members must pay taxes to the CLIQUE members. However, CLIQUE members that pronounce it (or have pronounced it) as “kleek” do not get any of the money. The money that would have gone to them goes to me (Again, sorry).

The amount of money you owe is based on several things, so pay attention. We will be checking everyone’s tax forms and people that don’t pay will…well no one’s ever been stupid enough not pay up.

You start with the base amount. This is a flat rate of $50 + $100 dollars for every month after January 1st, 1990 that you weren’t alive. Then you add an amount based on how often you visit the #alephone chatroom. If you are there less than 11 hours a day, you pay $10 for every hour you weren’t there. If you are there for 13 or more hours in a day, you pay $10.50 for every hour you were there. If you were there from 11-13 hours in a day, you pay $20,000 for every second it took me to write this.

If you don’t want to pay the CLIQUE tax, the only way out of it is to collect the amount owned by 100 people that aren’t in the community and give it to me.

I hope you realize that these rules were carefully thought out, and that your interests are what matter to us most. Have a good day.

(If you did not like this post, you will have to double your CLIQUE tax).

NEW YORK CITY: Under a lethargically rising Sun, a young man wandered into the playing field known as #alephone@irc.freenode.net, more commonly shortened to #a1. He saw before him a variety of men, surrounded by force fields that denoted their status in #a1. There were regular people, most of them silent by choice, some chattering like monkeys. Then there were the obvious governors of the realm, statuesque upon their golden thrones: those who bore the symbol @ upon their brow. They had the power of God in this small universe, and the will to go along with it.

After a few opening courtesies, the young man realized that the Sun had topped the surrounding landmarks just enough to illuminate a third caste in the playing field, a small group of people with the scarred rank of +v engraved in varying zones on their epidermis. Some seemed to have this mark repeated in more than one place, and some had artificially smooth skin from which the rank had been erased. As he participated in the banter surrounding him, he took advantage of a lull in the conversation to ask what this +v meant.

The immediate reply from all comers was the most obvious: One of +v has the Voice. That made sense to the young man, and he was satisfied for a short while. But after the moments faded away behind him, he once again found his eyes and thoughts resting on that jagged scar of the Voice. Why did they need Voice on this field, when all were free to speak as they wished? Even a newcomer such as the young man could raise his words to the highest of Kings there. Soon enough, a pattern emerged: those with +v nodded and spoke along with the governors, in league with them on more levels than the young man understood. A single mind seemed to control them at times.

He pardoned himself and raised a new question, begging to know about this subtle group. Lower men with neither Voice nor Power quaked and hid their faces in their hands, gnashing their teeth to drown out the inevitable answer: the group he detected was the CLIQUE.

Just then, one of the Voicèd ones released a torrent of offensive laughter. All eyes looked toward him. From the outstretched hand of a CLIQUE Governor came a bolt of fire that struck the most prominent scar of honor in the shape of -v, melting that flesh back together, leaving a gagging odor of cooked meat. The young man winced and withdrew himself from the sight of the CLIQUE.

Suddenly, the CLIQUE addressed him in unison. They told him he had taken a false step; he was the unlucky man whose body would become the scapegoat of the CLIQUE’s anger. YOU WHO ARE WITHOUT VOICE SHALL HAVE THE VOICE RENT FROM YOU, came a mighty wave of thought. No! he screamed, I do not wish that fate, and after all, I have not the Voice to begin with!

YOUR OPPOSITION IS IN VAIN. ACCEPT YOUR PUNISHMENT.

Then there was only pain, and behind his eyes, he saw an image.