Blue

Oh right, the box has all the special friendship crowns or necklaces or whatever in it.

12% of the planets have 80% of the mass #Occupy Jupiter

It's detailing of a nitpick is all.

Rainbow Dash telling the truth and begrudged for it is better described as 'brutally honest'. While better than dishonesty in practice, it is not a very courteous or polite mannerism. Applejack being dead-set on applebucking by her self could be interpreted as blind-hearted dishonesty of the self, or stubborness. Although the episode chooses the latter, both are symptomatic of pride over rationality.

I didn't make the Mr. Twilight Sparkle image, I found it on deviantart and couldn't get that graph idea out of my head for the life of me. However I did become educated in the making of it: The font used in the MLP titles is "Generation B", a commerical font you can get for about 5 bucks at a liscenced Font website.

"We are free to choose between serving God or not serving God." Either we choose to serve God, or do something else, in other words. (The earlier Playwright Metaphor works for explaining the relative position of God and the oddity of questioning his purpose. However it does not, nor is it meant to, explain the purpose of man or the meaning of life.)

May God judge me justly.

@Lord Sinister Your ship's records still indicate that it has wet paint from the Shipwright's Dock it came from. Otherwise if that's what you want final, so be it. @Madman I still find the Wormholes thing really weird and of questionable relevance, and 15 meters is pretty tiny. Otherwise, you're a go.

All of the ponies have honesty issues. Either to others (Rarity, Applejack) or to themselves (Fluttershy, Twilight). It's one of the morals which greatly irks me that the show consistently eludes. They covered being patient, tolerant, understanding and told us not to lie (Bird in the Hoof, Swarm of the Century, Feeling Pinkie Keen, Dressed for Success, Green isn't Your Color) but Honesty is something they all seem to struggle with and don't really alleviate. Due to the limited nature of catering show stories to children and the fact that they need continual drama apart from monster-of-the-week (thus drama coming from communication failure) it's a flaw all the characters will probably have until the last episode or later. Sad really.

We are free to choose between serving God or not serving God. By my beliefs, there is a correct answer.

Interceptors Ar-Go!

Added you as well, P. Ninja. I also modified myself, now I am a Heavy Frigate with a Strike Craft dock.

Also, I figgered some better and less confusing science.

Righto then, I'll add you to accepted players.

Psychotic Ninja (Invisible)- Ship acceptable. Please indicate if you're ready to play. Luis (Great Fox)- Recommendations have been made. Please indicate if you're ready to play or going to be implementing them. Madman (Abandoned One)- Recommendations have been made. Please indicate if you're going to be implementing them. Srake (Tenrar)- Ship acceptable. Please indicate if you're ready to play. Bill Ludwick (Xielumbus)- Ship Acceptable. Please indicate if you're ready to play. Obsidian (Glain-Neidr)- Ship Acceptable. Please indicate if you're ready to play. Lord Sinister - (Shadow Spear) Ship Acceptable, recommendations have been made however. Please indicate if you're ready to play. Sorry this has been going on so slow everyone- Once this gets going, I'd like to be able to have any situation thrown at you guys and you all manage to figure out the best way to win, as opposed to having contrived situations for you guys to survive, because of you all being a bunch of specialists. Ooh, and I got a few questions from Bill in Steam: Can you repair your own ship? -That depends on the room your crew has to work with. Imagine the ability to do on-the-fly repairs inside a fighter jet, compared to a transport plane, compared to a naval destroyer. The answer is Yes, but To what extent changes depending on your Ship Build. Why are you being so picky about people's Ships? -Because once the game starts it's a lot easier to have Dynamic Characters than it is Dynamic Spaceships. Using that Team Fortress metaphor, this is indeed class selection, except its permanent- until if or when we need to weave into the story the Group Convoy stopping by Hankerin' Al's Discount Satelites & Rockets Emporium for someone to change their ship without breaking narrative. Why would anyone choose a Heavy Corvette over a Light Frigate? (Or other similar ship builds) -The bigger a ship is, the bigger its weapons are. The bigger its weapons are, the higher chance they have of success. The smaller a ship is, the more maneuverable it is and the harder it is to be hit. However remember that there's usually always a better pilot lurking somewhere...

Ooh maybe it may come of some interest that I made these The hardest part (apart from getting Dash's mouth right- it was screen capped from Sonic Rainboom, vectored, and then having the mouth turn from a frustrated frown into an energized smile) was making them 20% cooler. Thank God for Color Balance modifiers.

That question does not compute. It's like Hamlet asking the purpose of the existence of Shakespeare.

uoC7kuFV3oY I lol'd. Except I was thinking Gertie the Dinosaur. Still good though.

I don't much care for GMod. Additionally, Flash characters have never translated well into 3D.

Welcome to the Accursed Farms Text Based Adventures. Please select a game: 1) Dig Dug 2) Zork 3) Bad Dudes Vs. DragonNinja 4) Dementia: descend into darkness 5) Star Wars X Your choice:_

sounds more like you twat face.

There is no way Nagisa wishes she were a bird. For everyone knows about the word.

A haunting Poem for a hallow's eve: There are strange things done in the midnight sun By the men who moil for gold; The Arctic trails have their secret tales That would make your blood run cold; The Northern Lights have seen queer sights, But the queerest they ever did see Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge I cremated Sam McGee. Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee, where the cotton blooms and blows. Why he left his home in the South to roam 'round the Pole, God only knows. He was always cold, but the land of gold seemed to hold him like a spell; Though he'd often say in his homely way that "he'd sooner live in hell." On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way over the Dawson trail. Talk of your cold! through the parka's fold it stabbed like a driven nail. If our eyes we'd close, then the lashes froze till sometimes we couldn't see; It wasn't much fun, but the only one to whimper was Sam McGee. And that very night, as we lay packed tight in our robes beneath the snow, And the dogs were fed, and the stars o'erhead were dancing heel and toe, He turned to me, and "Cap," says he, "I'll cash in this trip, I guess; And if I do, I'm asking that you won't refuse my last request." Well, he seemed so low that I couldn't say no; then he says with a sort of moan: "It's the cursèd cold, and it's got right hold till I'm chilled clean through to the bone. Yet 'tain't being dead—it's my awful dread of the icy grave that pains; So I want you to swear that, foul or fair, you'll cremate my last remains." A pal's last need is a thing to heed, so I swore I would not fail; And we started on at the streak of dawn; but God! he looked ghastly pale. He crouched on the sleigh, and he raved all day of his home in Tennessee; And before nightfall a corpse was all that was left of Sam McGee. There wasn't a breath in that land of death, and I hurried, horror-driven, With a corpse half hid that I couldn't get rid, because of a promise given; It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say: "You may tax your brawn and brains, But you promised true, and it's up to you to cremate those last remains." Now a promise made is a debt unpaid, and the trail has its own stern code. In the days to come, though my lips were dumb, in my heart how I cursed that load. In the long, long night, by the lone firelight, while the huskies, round in a ring, Howled out their woes to the homeless snows— O God! how I loathed the thing. And every day that quiet clay seemed to heavy and heavier grow; And on I went, though the dogs were spent and the grub was getting low; The trail was bad, and I felt half mad, but I swore I would not give in; And I'd often sing to the hateful thing, and it hearkened with a grin. Till I came to the marge of Lake Lebarge, and a derelict there lay; It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a trice it was called the "Alice May." And I looked at it, and I thought a bit, and I looked at my frozen chum; Then "Here," said I, with a sudden cry, "is my cre-ma-tor-eum." Some planks I tore from the cabin floor, and I lit the boiler fire; Some coal I found that was lying around, and I heaped the fuel higher; The flames just soared, and the furnace roared—such a blaze you seldom see; And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal, and I stuffed in Sam McGee. Then I made a hike, for I didn't like to hear him sizzle so; And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled, and the wind began to blow. It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled down my cheeks, and I don't know why; And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak went streaking down the sky. I do not know how long in the snow I wrestled with grisly fear; But the stars came out and they danced about ere again I ventured near; I was sick with dread, but I bravely said: "I'll just take a peep inside. I guess he's cooked, and it's time I looked"; ... then the door I opened wide. And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm, in the heart of the furnace roar; And he wore a smile you could see a mile, and he said: "Please close that door. It's fine in here, but I greatly fear you'll let in the cold and storm— Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee, it's the first time I've been warm." There are strange things done in the midnight sun By the men who moil for gold; The Arctic trails have their secret tales That would make your blood run cold; The Northern Lights have seen queer sights, But the queerest they ever did see Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge I cremated Sam McGee. The Cremation of Sam McGee, by Robert Service. Happy Halloween, Accursed Farmians.

But we are not only Biological beings. We reason: we want to know How, What, Where, When, Why. We predict: we enjoy and fear both the past and the future. We express: Art, Science, Philosophy. These do not exist simply because we have a natural affinity to waste time when not reproducing. Because life (using the metaphor that life is like a test on a sheet of paper) has this blank after the question "Why are we here", it demands to be filled, and I for myself have reasoned that "Nothing" is not an acceptable answer. The answer that has made the most sense for me is that God created the Universe for his Glory. God very well could have created a toy universe in which all the beings and substances existed simply to automatically give him praise. He could have, but he did not. God created a Universe, with creatures made that were shaped like him, that had free choice and a will of their own, that could decide by their own volition to give Glory to God. Obviously with the more powerful the thing given the ability to self-direct, there is just as much potential for this self-directing power to do terrific Good, or do terrific Evil. Apparently God thought this worth the risk.