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alias: byrd of prey.
application: http://deadcity.jcink.net/index.php?showuser=1
plotter: http://deadcity.jcink.net/index.php?showuser=1
want ad: http://deadcity.jcink.net/index.php?showuser=1
age: 99
self-given title: goddess of vanity
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Joined: 28-December 14
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Last Seen: Aug 16 2015, 01:20 PM
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kixpin

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Jan 16 2015, 10:39 AM
[dohtml]<center><div style="font-family: arial; font-size:9px; text-align:justify; width:350px; text-transform:lowercase; line-height:100%; ">Well hello there, person of which I may or may not know. Here's an introduction for you. Have fun.<br><br>I go by many aliases, but my favorites right now are <b>allaryce</b> and <b>kixpin</b>. I'm known to go by wallflower, mirrkith, neverland, and many more. Those are just the most common of them all. I am a member of <a href="http://adoxographyv2.boards.net/user/1299/">adoxography 2.0</a>. I recently got into coding as a hobby and have came quite a long ways since when I first started. You can take a look at my <a href="http://kixpintesting.jcink.ne">jcink testing forum</a> if you want to see what I'm up to with coding for jcink, my <a href="http://never-the-reality.proboards.com">proboards testing forum</a>, and you can visit me on <a href="http://east.jcink.net/index.php?act=idx">east</a>, also as kixpin. I am an avid coder, role-player, writer, and am an aspiring psychologist and anthropologist. I have chronic insomnia and constantly have writer's block. I enjoy photographing things (<a href="http://cue-the-cannibal.deviantart.com">my deviantart</a>) and am in love with the taste of raisins. Also, some random "fun-facts--"<br><br>I'm a huge Harley Quinn/Joker fan; I have to listen to something to sleep because I hallucinate in silence (generally auditory hallucinations, such as hearing voices that aren't there or hearing music. Very minor.); I am afraid of the dark, showering, all insects/bugs, and dislike uncleanliness; I am easily scared of anything that could potentially be a weapon (in other words, knives, large things, basically anything that could be painful); I love cats; I love fedoras; interested in criminology; I am ambidextrous.<br><br> Let's see, some else, you say? I dislike blonde hair on most women, unless they have a particularly nice jawline and cheek-bones and skin-tone that can accommodate said color. Hmm, I have a tendency to talk like an idiot when I'm ignored and insert myself into conversations like an idiot, also when I'm ignored. I very-much dislike emoticons and know the difference between an emoticon and emoji. I call myself "the goddess of vanity" for no particular reason. I am obsessive, wash my hands twice, can't stand most people's faces, and love water just a bit too much. I'm a diabetic of <b>one year</b> and have excellent hair. Even when something is perfectly clean, I am agitated by it because I think it's dirty. I am horrid at playing against bosses and strongly believe that there should be a quote "skip boss-battle" button in all games. I am beginning to ramble. I wake up at 5:00 AM and occasionally four and get in bed at 6:00 PM. I'm bisexual. I have a terrible way of seeing life. I am disgusted, not by blood, death, or crimes, but by uncleanliness that likely doesn't even exist. If you want to know more, just ask.<br><br>That's all you need to know. Cheers.</div></center>[/dohtml]
Jan 7 2015, 05:07 PM
[dohtml]
<style type="text/css">
/* LITTLE BLACK BIRD */
.blackbird {background-image:url('http://i.imgur.com/HFa555p.jpg');width:200px;;color:#fff;text-align:center;font-family:'Oswald', Sans-serif;padding:20px;border-bottom:10px solid #000;} .littleblackbird:a {text-transform:uppercase;}

/* PARAGRAPH STYLES; LARGE BLACKBIRD. */
.smallishbird{font-family: 'Oswald', Sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: justify; width: 200px;padding-left: 5px;padding-right: 5px;padding-bottom: 15px;} .manlycoloringyay {color:#87AFC7;} .womanlycoloringyay {color:#E8ADAA;}

/* MISTER BLACKBIRD */
.mrblackbird:hover {margin-left:60px;-moz-transition-duration:.9s;webkit-transition-duration:.9s;o-transition-duration:.9s;transition-duration:.9s;}</style>

<table>
<tr>
<th><div style="font-family:calibri; border:10px solid #000; font-size:10px;text-transform:uppercase;padding:10px;text-align:right;width:240px;background-image:url('http://i.imgur.com/HFa555p.jpg');text-style:bold;background-color:black;color:white;">the men.</div></th>
<th><div style="font-family:calibri; border:10px solid #000; font-size:10px;text-transform:uppercase;padding:10px;text-align:right;width:240px;background-image:url('http://i.imgur.com/HFa555p.jpg');text-style:bold;background-color:black;color:white;">the women.</div></div></th>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><div style="font-family: calibri;font-size:10px;text-align:justify;width:230px;text-transform:lowercase;line-height:100%;"><div class="manlycoloringyay">arbitrary gnome.<br>
gnome b-gone.<br>
get to-knome.<br>
gnome reference.<br>
italian peanut.<br>
mister banana.<br>
little clown.</div></td>
<td><div style="font-family: calibri;font-size:10px;text-align:justify;width:230px;text-transform:lowercase;line-height:100%;"><i>olivia wilde</i> is <i>dominika e. all.</i><br>
learn to-gnome.<br>
harley quinnie.<br>
harleen quinzel.<br>
poison ivy.<br>
bad skills.<br>
retired op-duck.</div></td>
</tr>
</table>
[/dohtml]
Dec 31 2014, 12:17 PM
[dohtml]<style type="text/css">
/* LITTLE BLACK BIRD */
.littleblackbird {background-image:url('http://i.imgur.com/HFa555p.jpg');width:400px;;color:#fff;text-align:center;font-family:'Oswald', Sans-serif;padding:20px;border-bottom:10px solid #000;} .littleblackbird:a {text-transform:uppercase;}

/* PARAGRAPH STYLES; LARGE BLACKBIRD. */
.largeblackbird {font-family: 'Oswald', Sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: justify; width: 420px;border-bottom: 10px solid #000;padding-left: 5px;padding-right: 5px;padding-bottom: 15px;}

/* MISTER BLACKBIRD */
.misterblackbird:hover {margin-left:60px;-moz-transition-duration:.9s;webkit-transition-duration:.9s;o-transition-duration:.9s;transition-duration:.9s;}</style>

<div class="littleblackbird"><div class="misterblackbird">001. dead city's offical opening.</div></div><br>
<div class="largeblackbird">
Dead City is officially open for the joining. Sure, I could leave it at that and just post the topic but I won't. I'll go into detail and say some more things that are of little importance and utilize my ability to write quality pieces of literature on things that have little meaning.<br><br>

It's the thirty-first of December, 2014. Currently it is 9:05 AM and I have done some advertising for the site, putting it out there a bit before I posted this topic. You could conspire that I forgot to make this topic but that isn't all true; it was lingering in the back of my mind and I simply just didn't.<br><br>

Now, I would like to inform all of our future members and all of the passersby that we are, indeed, open for the joining. It is fairly obvious, having that we have advertisements out there. But, still, an official, solid date of opening to the public is necessary. Though, to some, it may seem as if it is just well-and-good, something that most sites do. But, to us here at Dead City, we like to think of it as a date of which we were birthed and now we are growing with the help of all our members and our staff. A solid date not only provides a mile-stone, but it provides a deeper engagement of our society into the rest. By posting this topic, we're providing something to look back onto when we're older.<br><br>

Now that my adoxography abilities have subsided, we'll continue with the actual update--<br><br>

Playable, in-character boards are still being added but I, byrd of prey., give my solemn swear to get them up soon. That may not seem like a huge deal to you. But that's only because it isn't. I'm big on procrastinating, you see. I have the amazing ability to hold things off that I said I would do. But I'll get it done.<br><br>

Alright, moving on! The beginner's guide is the one information topic that still needs to be finished. But no worries-- I'll have it done soon. I also need to finish the in-character posting-template, plotting template, and some more templates. But those aren't required just yet.<br><br>

Alright, if you've stuck around long-enough to read this entire topic, obviously you're interested in the site. Any questions should be directed toward me, byrd of prey., and mentioned in the c-box if you're a guest. I'll get around to it as quickly as I can.[/dohtml]
Dec 29 2014, 08:20 AM
jcink, if, align=center.

CODE
[align=center][IMG]http://i.imgur.com/36wAhGw.jpg[/IMG]
{ [URL=http://deadcity.jcink.net/index.php?showtopic=3]i.[/URL] } { [URL=http://deadcity.jcink.net/index.php?showtopic=5]ii.[/URL] }{ [URL=http://deadcity.jcink.net/index.php?showtopic=6]iii.[/URL] }{ [URL=http://deadcity.jcink.net/index.php?showtopic=7]iv.[/URL] }[/align]
Years ago something happened to the world -- the universe -- that no one-man could believe. It wasn't that zombie apocalypse so-many teens grew to love; it wasn't a world-war III, and it wasn't an out-break of any disease -- What this devastating event was was an invasion from outer-space. But who invaded were not the black-eyed, wrinkled-green-skinned, friendly beings of good ole ET's race. No, they were made of metal and no soft-organs or bones could be found inside their bodies; wires were all that controlled them, other than an intelligent computing system contained within their exo-shell encrusted heads. They were synthetic beings, incapable of any emotions. They were monsters of destruction. And they were on a mission.

What these metal-lugging beasts wanted from earth was unknown in the first years they lived on the humans' planet. They simply marched around every street of every-town and city each morning at 4-AM, their heavy feet clunking a cadence against the ground. For many years, this seeming-ritual baffled the natural inhabitants of earth; they awoke one-morning to the sound of metal being plastered against the ground and a feeling of dizziness. When they looked out their window, all they saw was a seemingly-endless flow of six-foot, silver robots who marched in a uniform pattern, eyes glowing red and the low hum of their machine-insides. The occasional sound of a monotone, computer-formed voice could be heard by the one robot who lead the rest. He said one-time every hour a string of non-understandable letters, "Dep saey, ahnlava." The voice rang out to all of the other robots and they all stopped marching at the same-time to say the words, "Dayp saey, lanva-ahn." Over and over again for five minutes, the robots spoke those words. Disturbed humans stared in pure-terror at the robots, afraid to leave their houses.

For a time, to the on-lookers, the robots seemed innocent. But the humans' natural system of "fight-or-flight" prevented them from approaching the robots; most chose the flight path while some chose to fight. Armies of humans assembled in-font of the robots on the night of Christmas Eve, guns ready to exterminate the robots who invaded their world. When the commanders said go, their troops moved out and began to rage war against the invaders. Nothing seemed to penetrate their armor, however. The robots would fight back with one, simple beam of light that murdered the troops in an instant.

The world was ever becoming more agitated with the presence of these robots. By the tenth year, a whopping half of the population had been wiped-out by the invasion. The robots continued to march the streets every morning and repeat the same words for ten more years before leaving only a third of the population alive. December 24th, 2034, the robots assembled together and rose into the skies, leaving the planet in a massacre of bodies. The remaining humans had mostly gone insane, their brains not sure how to react to the situation. However, there were still a few competent humans left on the planet. They began to form groups that would fight to keep their race alive.

2040 marks the year that 100,000 competent citizens lived. That is this year.

While some are fighting for the better good, some are still fighting to tear the world down and to leave it in flames. It is conspired that these humans are inhabited by the robot race who had begun the apocalypse. Without any knowledge of how to tell a robot from a living, how are you to know who's your ally?

This very fact has caused great distress within the remaining numbers, most unable to look at another in the way they might have before. The apocalypse turned every adult into a protective machine, fighting to save their kin and children from what is to come.
Dec 29 2014, 08:15 AM
jcink, if, align=center.

CODE
[align=center][IMG]http://i.imgur.com/36wAhGw.jpg[/IMG]
{ [URL=http://deadcity.jcink.net/index.php?showtopic=3]i.[/URL] } { [URL=http://deadcity.jcink.net/index.php?showtopic=5]ii.[/URL] }{ [URL=http://deadcity.jcink.net/index.php?showtopic=6]iii.[/URL] }{ [URL=http://deadcity.jcink.net/index.php?showtopic=7]iv.[/URL] }[/align]
Years ago something happened to the world -- the universe -- that no one-man could believe. It wasn't that zombie apocalypse so-many teens grew to love; it wasn't a world-war III, and it wasn't an out-break of any disease -- What this devastating event was was an invasion from outer-space. But who invaded were not the black-eyed, wrinkled-green-skinned, friendly beings of good ole ET's race. No, they were made of metal and no soft-organs or bones could be found inside their bodies; wires were all that controlled them, other than an intelligent computing system contained within their exo-shell encrusted heads. They were synthetic beings, incapable of any emotions. They were monsters of destruction. And they were on a mission.

What these metal-lugging beasts wanted from earth was unknown in the first years they lived on the humans' planet. They simply marched around every street of every-town and city each morning at 4-AM, their heavy feet clunking a cadence against the ground. For many years, this seeming-ritual baffled the natural inhabitants of earth; they awoke one-morning to the sound of metal being plastered against the ground and a feeling of dizziness. When they looked out their window, all they saw was a seemingly-endless flow of six-foot, silver robots who marched in a uniform pattern, eyes glowing red and the low hum of their machine-insides. The occasional sound of a monotone, computer-formed voice could be heard by the one robot who lead the rest. He said one-time every hour a string of non-understandable letters, "Dep saey, ahnlava." The voice rang out to all of the other robots and they all stopped marching at the same-time to say the words, "Dayp saey, lanva-ahn." Over and over again for five minutes, the robots spoke those words. Disturbed humans stared in pure-terror at the robots, afraid to leave their houses.

For a time, to the on-lookers, the robots seemed innocent. But the humans' natural system of "fight-or-flight" prevented them from approaching the robots; most chose the flight path while some chose to fight. Armies of humans assembled in-font of the robots on the night of Christmas Eve, guns ready to exterminate the robots who invaded their world. When the commanders said go, their troops moved out and began to rage war against the invaders. Nothing seemed to penetrate their armor, however. The robots would fight back with one, simple beam of light that murdered the troops in an instant.

The world was ever becoming more agitated with the presence of these robots. By the tenth year, a whopping half of the population had been wiped-out by the invasion. The robots continued to march the streets every morning and repeat the same words for ten more years before leaving only a third of the population alive. December 24th, 2034, the robots assembled together and rose into the skies, leaving the planet in a massacre of bodies. The remaining humans had mostly gone insane, their brains not sure how to react to the situation. However, there were still a few competent humans left on the planet. They began to form groups that would fight to keep their race alive.

2040 marks the year that 100,000 competent citizens lived. That is this year.

While some are fighting for the better good, some are still fighting to tear the world down and to leave it in flames. It is conspired that these humans are inhabited by the robot race who had begun the apocalypse. Without any knowledge of how to tell a robot from a living, how are you to know who's your ally?

This very fact has caused great distress within the remaining numbers, most unable to look at another in the way they might have before. The apocalypse turned every adult into a protective machine, fighting to save their kin and children from what is to come.
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