Upon Mars.

Some more stories on the site: http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/33724458-the-witch-of-tugly-wood http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/33050150-bartimaeus http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/33776868-lake-of-fire Extract: "The young lad tugged his ear; "How can you mam, content me more? Is not a roof, food and wine on the table and a night in your bed more than enough for anyone?"" -the Witch of Tugly wood part 1.

New content: The prologue has been changed radically: http://www.freewebs.com/geneforgeremaker/apps/blog/categories/show/1363321-prologue Additional twists were given to Gottesch's meeting to Andras ressembling more the the G2 meeting of Barzhal and Stannis. http://www.freewebs.com/geneforgeremaker/apps/blog/categories/show/1531558-gottesch Pentil plains has been rewritten: Extract: ""Let me go first" said Andras. "I will plunge first. Let me ready you with speech and a spell: You lot, bloodied, bruised and broken, are serviles, you were never meant to fight. With one swift hand any thahd can break your neck whereas the angry ornk mocks the blow of the lone servile and deals it back. An artila may spit acid into your face leaving you blind and unfit to work, whereas the agile fyora goes for your neck. The roamer fights you with fire. The vlish makes the spearman ill with surrender, the clawbug turns you white in fear. The battle alpha tosses your lot across the ground about like a pebble across water, his wasps burn any who may try to slay him in his sleep. The glaahk threatens five of your wand bearers, where a single Drayk may coerce one of your cities to surrender up your wealth and livestock." -The stone and the hammer, Chapter 13 Pentil Plain's: http://www.freewebs.com/geneforgeremaker/apps/blog/categories/show/1318492-chapter-13-pentil-plains

Fantastic work guys! If you want I can even make images for the prologue and endings like Andrew Hunter did once, that is when you've finished cracking this hard nut and start thinking storywise! Keep it up, you're going to make it through!

I've charmed turrets before as successful a means of defense, but I don't know about charmed spawners. I suppose you can, can't you?

Absorbing and hurting a person with a pyro-roamer results in a crime in G1.

There's a plenty going on than BoG: as stated before, Avadon comming up, Books being written, the geneforge wiki still waiting for users to take notice of it... Hell not much has changed that much really. From my perspective Spiderwebsoftwere was always like this: a calm, cosy place where people talked nostalgia...

Why is this myth of Spiderweb forums "dying out" popping up regularly?

Andras meets Astrov : http://www.freewebs.com/geneforgeremaker/apps/blog/show/32819178-defniel

If geneforge has to be remade certain things perhaps need to be addressed: Something needs to be done about that beginning speech which is way too long and contains info we will anyway rediscover. I also suggest doing more about thinking about balancing gameplay in terms of spells (to be able to cast elemental cloak instead of augmentation, to cast a regenerating mass restore even in combat) in terms of creations (giving some of the Pc's creations more potency, for example, by giving 9 ap to the thahd, the pyroamer a caustic explosion, the roamer a decent cursing bite and the clawbug a personal spine shield. Why not also give the battle alpha a personal spine shield and the battle beta more strength and a lighting aura in melee?). Also perhaps why not include more art and more music (in such a way it doesn't not interfere with the game's naturalistic approach.)?

I take care of children, read books, play chess and tell and write down stories. Actor clubs are nice and drawing's fun. I also go out for walks with a reed in my mouth. Running after girls or boys or both can also take lots and lots of time...

Hi I'm having difficulties in translating arabic how would you translate this? لا يوجد هناك من أحافظ على رشاقتي من اجله The best translation so far was "there is no swiftness of safeguarding from him"; understandably I don't think it sounds very English.

It´s lots of work...

Diarazad is complete: http://members.webs.com/manageapp/blog/show/30178665-diazard Tombs as well: http://members.webs.com/manageapp/blog/show/19611344-tombs

Actually the idea that serviles being not magical can't produce ghosts makes sense.

This is the first Chapter of my fan fiction but it's also the epilogue of the story. "Sucia island has been Barred. Now we leave. Many supplies are being left behind. I have not explicitly listed them since, by the time we return, many of them will have spoiled or otherwise been made unusable. A fresh list must be made at that point. Defniel, Corata and Danette boarded a boat away this morning. All were upset, Corata especially. He arrived late, and we feared that he may have to be secured. Something was odd there, but it is none of my concern. I know much of what was done here. I saw the presentations. I saw the results. And, to whoever comes here later, whoever reads this, I want you to know this. The leaders were angry when Sucia was Barred. But most of us? We were not. Our leaders see the glory. But they do not see the risk. We are all sad at what is being lost. But we are glad that Sucia has been Barred. And we hope it remains ever so." - Vandrik [1] docker of Sucia isle. At the end of the eastern docks, a band of Cryodrayks and Battle Betas creations are looking at a small, wooden sailboat as it recedes into the horizon across rough waves. The ship has several pairs of oars. It is a small craft, only large enough for a few people, and the mast is not even erected. A synod of black angels circles the boat. The choir of trumpeting birds are following the small seacraft, using it as they see fit. Inside the boat, lone hooded figure at the oar is tying to erect the mast and to figure out how the sails work. His name his Andras. The black robed Shaper has left Sucia isle for the mainland which grows in front of him, leaving for the changing horizon of a better future and leaving the products of his skill and work behind him. As he rows the green mile that cuts him from the mainland, his hands glows under the dark sky, it too rolling towards the mainland. A storm is about to hit. - [1]The name Vandrick, is composed of Van, "of", and Drik or Dric "the people".

I sadly regret that I cannot help more in this regard, I have worked hard trying to maintain the wiki page up and I my site is indeed an extensive fanfic, with non canon elements. I however specialize in developing ideas from G1 and G2 from which I have amassed a decent amount of knowledge... so if you want to know more... I'll be glad to help as all of us I am sure.

I'm sorry to dissapoint you Nalyd but I do have also some art work of my own on Polandpact's account; Polandpact's demotivators and andrew hunter's art are not mine, but the doodles are ^^: http://polandpact.deviantart.com/art/Geneforge-sketch-352028087

I've read a very very funny book : 33 lessons in philosophy by and for bad boys! By Alain Guyard.

I solemnly declare that the Faerie and a peasant story is finished: http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/31957650-a-peasant-and-the-faerie

You might want to put this on while reading: "It wasn't a military, refugee or religious expedition which first found earth. It wasn't a ship or a fleet of ships with shiny ridges or well polished and stylish interiors. No it was a big space junk van, rough in color and round, a perfect sphere with a bronze tan. Not as beautiful as the other ships or cities which grew in the dark reaches of space. The aliens inside having mastered mortality and copied their very consciousness on light and fields beyond 21st century man's wildest dreams and where merely interested in collecting huge quantities of dioxygen and water as to supply their "earthly" brethren who had not yet left flesh when they came to man's solar system. And there it was. That silver and blue marble. A toy called home. And so they descended upon a world of tool makers, blasting radiowaves and still struggling with philosophy, science, mortality, art and the premises of things to come should they survive their first jump into outer space. So small, so puny, they were, they had seemed, that no contact had been previously made suggesting that their existance would be like that of a shooting star, bright but breif in the night sky. A race of beligerent tool makers who clumsily built things out of rock and wood when evreyone had done so many wonderfull things beyond that, man had seemed to have had climbed out of savagery only to become brutes, but none the less brutes equipped. It came to our utter surprise when the earth men decided to lock not just their sights unto the ship as it drew out tons of water from the sea into the ship's cargo bay. The warnings were clear enough, as the earth men did present a warning strike to the ship. What came next for earth was hell. The small craft fell to earth the colossal straw connecting it to the ocean fell into the planet with such a thud I could be heard and seen for miles and miles away. Not ones to exact vengeance too quickly, the aliens had a plan: they would possess the collective minds of men and while remaining counscious kept them alive for centuries in excruciating agony. When the aliens became bored however, they left the apes a gift of centuries worth of technology and information. It wasn't long before man rose up from his cradle and made war across the stars. They had become the masters of the universe having exacted vengence on the gods who had tortured them and evolved beyond the constraints of their former masters which they tossed about like a cricket ball across space. Moral of the story: the bite of an ant may be dull but so long as you don't sit deliberately on an ant hill." Original text: http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/32005272-pissing-on-an-anthill

Here's an extract of part 2: "Two Formorians had been on the look out on a bridge. "Why can't we just go back home? Pack something and go into the wildest parts of Greece and hunt for a year and a half the last of the golden stags, the boars of the Thracian groves, wilder and more ferocious than lions or the rats of Crete large as dogs? Why must we stay here, clad in glamour, hiding, monsters amongst men? When was the day where we could posing not as humans but as what we are formorians giants and pick on a Faerie, until it went mad with fury and burned the woods and the countryside? Where are the talking fishes which granted wishes when you released them? The things of man have made them all disappear, their apples taste like grass, their corn makes my stomach ache and spear in bronze and sword in iron wards off our kind and kills the things of the river if they don't turn them blue with their tanners and soaking textiles. When will we depart? I herd that some have left for ever, some deep under ground..." The other look out groaned "Why can't we make preparations for the best and go live amongst humans, forget about it, live as they do, build amongst them and marry their kind? Is it so hard? We have done so for years and years before men came and made use of tools or fire? Now keep your eyes peeled we have a job to do." "**** this life and this job! Man is turning into a creature of day, worse than fire and has dealt with forces beyond it's comprehension, with him has feed the gorgon and the basilisk who turn his foes to bone and stone. He is now empty all in, forgotten the old gods and for what? Market-places? Roads? Boats? When will this stop? When will taste man-flesh in an age of iron and dogs-turned wolves?" "Will you please shut up! There's one of them coming!" said the other Formorian and with that a small contingent of armed men with a well protected chart tried to pass the bridge.3In the name of your Lord and master the King we have orders to let us pass." said a man big as a mountain. The Formorians looked at one an other and then one responded: "Gives us the orders. Do you have a royal seal?" The soldier descended from the cart with a ring of pure silver. "Aye here it is." "Good then" said the tall Formorian. And quick as a flash a raven caught the ring as the soldier revealed it. The company having lost the seal shrieked in anger, arrows being shot at the raven bird but none would catch or hurt. The small company moved and the Formorians dressed as soldier began to disperse. They went where most Formorians go: under a bridge. "

Well, thanks, really! When I was very young I was regularly told by very different teachers I could never do it, that I could never find my place and that I should forget about science or writing. So it's heart warming really

New short story extract: "Once upon a time lived a peasant, who had lived all his life working, praying and toiling the land of the lord of the land to which he belonged to. Opposite to the castle of the lord lied a forest black, inhabited it was said by wicked creatures, daemons, spirits of old and was filled with powerful magic which had never receded with the passing of man. So our peasant lived a hard, tough life, toiling the ground, unconcerned about stories of witches, wolves and spirits save when it came down to listening to bedtime as a child or as a parent telling those stories, his heart in hand and love on his lips as he told about bogarts, sprites and dragons. A heart which broke in two as his land was torn apart by a wicked king, who's person under the form of statues of wood, stone or iron watched all over the country, their eyes ever opened. As with all kings who give themselves the chance to excesses, this king became a blight on the poor, a pig to women, a executioner to men and a terror amongst the young and old. Knights and merchants however, became richer and prospered as the people laid crushed by taxes, for the conquests were many and trade routes acquired quickly. Such wealth our peasant could never dream of having. Life was hard enough before, pleasing lords, paying taxes, making things grow, being kind to animals which had to be killed for meat, banding with the other peasants against the occasional knight who had an itch for young girls and working in the fields under the heavy rain or the hot sun when disaster struck: though a time of plenty for those above him, hunger filled the land. So the peasant began to cry each and evrey day and unable to make himself beg for food, he began to scavenge. Unaware of his crime, for stealing became a crime in those times when the king became wicked, he had poached a single rabbit he had found under a pear tree at the edge of the dark enchanted woods. When the knights came, they arrived with a rope and had no need of gibbets, for an oak's strong branch in the wild woods was one. Our peasant fled into the dreaded woods filled with monsters, chivalry trying to cut his running short through the thorn bushes. It was not long before huge slabs of stone began to appear out from the huge bramble bushes and a clearing covered with tall healthy poplar trees began to appear. Covered all over with drawn figures of archers pursuing wildmen crowned with antlers and crossing their legs, the stones were so huge they made one with the dark treetops. It had seemed our peasant had entered another world, where spirits of the dead where kings, trees were gods, fire not yet discovered and the woods of old were once more filled with the very creatures which had bred in man, fear of the dark. Then with a sudden sound of robes, a tall dark figure rose up in front of the peasant and his riding pursuers and it too had two great horns on it's head: "Who dares approach uninvited and unwanted?" said the host with a scream louder than that of human but yet painful whisper in tone. The knight jabbed back, horses bolting from all sides as arrows fired by learning children: "Go back to your forest fiend! And dabble back to your magical toys, the lad is ours, as are all men and to be brought back to face the justice of our lord. He has committed an offense before the community of christians through which the Holy Spirit makes word and action, thus an offense towards God. Make no attempt to intervene and no harm will come." "If you are a man of law," said the dark changing figure, "you must know of the ancient border which separates my lands from those of your lord and emperor and the pact bought in blood with your ancestors with my kind. If not, know that any encroachment by armed humans is to meet certain death." The knights drew out their swords. "All death is certain." Replied the knights to the flickering black figure. "Not to my kin." Replied the dragon." more can be read here: http://members.webs.com/manageapp/blog/show/31957650-a-peasant-and-the-faerie

Nice intro!

WAM! It's a TRAP!