The world is changed. I read it in the updates. I see it in the posts. I feel it in the Likes. Much that once was is lost, for few remain who remember it. It began with the foundation of the Forums. Three for the heart of Bungie: the Septagon for its community, ancient and proud; The Universe, for all of Bungie’s most beloved creations; The News Forum, a grand repository of all tidings from the lords themselves. Next came a new breed, quieter but more focused: The Voting Booth for the community’s voice; The Gallery for its hands and minds to craft its own interpretations of the lords’ creations; The Classified for the rampant recruitment of eager volunteers for budding bands of brothers, though many cries fell unanswered into the dark abyss of eternity. The game forums blossomed with every new era; each shone as a beacon in the mediocrity and despair of the Internet, gathering all towards their alien worlds, beautiful, yet menacing. Then there was the Flood, whose denizens above all else crave anarchy. Equilibrium was brief; The Flood boiled and writhed in its freedom. The fires of war erupted as its peoples spewed hatred at each other. Towers as high as mountains tumbled into themselves as walls of text collapsed into nonsensical pits, snapping and churning any who dared challenge or enter their illogical arguments. It is in this bedlam, dear reader, that we find ourselves. “TAKE COVER!” Dr TimothyLeary looked up. “Another attack by COWPIE?” “What?” Bungie Sam cried back. “No, Challenger X being a dick about lonepaul again.” “Oh, ok.” DTL nodded. “We’ll need a counter: Capiton!” The disgruntled Myth zomble turned to him. “Yuh-huh?” “Prepare your wang.” And then every cheered. “Potassium cannons are ready!” Camm kalled from her korner. “Canon cannons ready,” Lord of Admirals and Chronarch added. “Awesome,” DTL responded. “Tartan, is the parody canon cannon ready?” “What? Do you even know about the parodies?” “[i]Whaaaaaaaa?[/i]” Camm chimed Britishly. “ERMAGERD CERGHMMTERCULERGH" Tartan gushed, the red bits nearly popping out of the holes in the 8. “I have a banana here with your name on it. And I don’t mean the fruit this time.” “One banana?” ChaosFighter laughed heartily, his white-on-black, bird-on-shield emblem proud on his chest. “I have MORE THAN ONE. MOAR.” Tartan grinned at him. “But less than three?” “Oh, of course,” Chaos gleed. “I mean fewer. Damnit. Doesn’t work with proper English. Do I need a semicolon there? Guhh.” “MENTLEGEN!” DTL thundered. “Damnit, you got me so mad that I said-” DJ Mentle span on his chair, staring at everyone with his horrified Reach marine face. “ohai…. and too far. Okay, back to work.” “Damn straight!” DTL yelled. “This is [i]important[/i]!” edableshoe span on his chair too. Somehow. Maybe he used shoelaces. “Spinny office chairs for everyone… nausea for everyone…” “beatingadeadhorse.gif” SonOfTheShire opined, kicking his hairy hobbit feet playfully. DTL facepalmed. “Did either of you have a point? We’re in the middle of a battle here. A really important battle for the sake of the-” “Well, there’s what sunk Kitchen 8 and Schwippy Tree,” Ch33zyburrito fretted, ch33zing about and pointing at the radar screen. “THEY’RE SINKING THREADS WITH A GIANT . .╚⊙ ⊙╝.. ╚═(███)═╝ .╚═(███)═╝ ..╚═(███)═╝ ...╚═(███)═╝ ...╚═(███)═╝ ..╚═(███)═╝ .╚═(███)═╝ ╚═(███)═╝ ╚═(███)═╝ .╚═(███)═╝ ..╚═(███)═╝ ...╚═(███)═╝ ...╚═(███)═╝ ..╚═(███)═╝ .╚═(███)═╝ “Okay, that’ll do for now!” DTL snapped, his double chevron aquiver. “In between that, Rose, the army of Camnator alts led by Comms Officer not because they’re the same person but because ‘Officer’, Fox News spreading propaganda because ‘news’, and angry0lbgrampa, PSU and BADMAGIK just generally being terrible human beings, what else we got?” “If by ‘we’ you mean the British master race,” lonepaul piped up, the Hunter watching everyone wryly as he approached a Cabal monstrosity, “then plenty.” He snapped his fingers. “ARGH! No, say I clicked my fingers!” “Bongistanians!” bellowed IIx luke xIII, surprising everyone by looking like Kat but having a male voice. “Assemble!” Somewhere, Big Ben- well, not somewhere: London. Big Ben struck seven o’clock. There was a rush of wind smelling of salted chips drowned in vinegar, accompanied by fried cod, as well as tea, teeth, and stereotypes. DTL blinked. Camm moistened. “BEHOLD!” cried the gleaming humanoid titan of Union Flag and TARDIS that now stood before the The Flood. “CORN- I mean PSYCHOLEMON GATSBACON.” Zizou looked on, his glorious mane sagging with the disappointment that he lived in the Republic. Or does he? I think he does. Let me check my PMs. Aaaaaaaand all we’ve talked about is Game of Thrones. Oh well. At least you’re in, Ziz. ;) A Cheese Potato also looked on. He lives in Australia. No debate there. The cheese sagged and the potato sagged. Then perked up happily with this cameo. edableshoe span back to face DTL. “Oh yes, I remember what- Sir, call from the president for you.” DTL inhaled deeply, his eyes on the Transformalike’s iron hide, clad in Lemon’s impenetrable sarcasm. Maybe there was hope. He turned to the screen. “Ooh, I love the little tickly sound Skype makes… Sir. Wait, you’re not Tartan.” “I’m glad you noticed,” Plasma Eagle replied. “What’s the situation?” “With the awesomeness of the Brits and all of us working together, we might just stand a chance,” DTL explained. “Yay!” Tartan cried suddenly, leaping from his chair. “Brits AWAAAAAAAAY!!!!!!!!!!118” “Wait,” Gatsby murmured. “Tarty, if you keep using your own number instead of Bungie’s to unite us all, this isn’t going to-” There was a crash. In a hail of crumpets, Jammie Dodgers and bow-ties, the Brittron 7000 collapsed to the ground and the screen shook like in a cartoon. Go on, shake your computer screen. Yes you, INSERT FLOODIAN NAMEDROP HERE. “Me?” “Shut up, Beetle.” “By Marty’s melodies,” Eagle sighed, rubbing his forehead, or at least attempting to. Because he’s a bird made out of plasma. “What in Seven, uh, Sevens are we going to do?” “Sir, new contact,” burrito began, making everyone spin towards him, and therefore feel sick once more, including DTL even though he was stood up and not on a chair, the silly ragamuffin. “Okay, can I-.... unknown classification.” DTL glared at the radar over shoe’s shoulder. An ankle, if you will. Or not. Let’s go with not because it was burrito who’s in front of him. “KakaCarrotCake, obligatory Dragonball meme reference?! I mean, what does the scouter say about his power level?!” “Btw it’s Vegeta who says that, but I don’t think- uh, IT’S OVER NINE- Oh, wait, my bad, it’s…. [i]7777[/i]!” The very air itself shuddered and thundered. There were cracks in the very seams of space and time, and reality itself seemed to distort. “whut” Hipi said Dinklagely. The roof ripped off. The Flood stared upward in awe as a septitude of ...oh, okay. Google Docs reckons septitude is indeed a word. Uh, where was I? Oh yeah, [i]a septitude of lightning bolts cracked the sky and should I stop the italics? Too much?[/i] Okay. And stop interrupting myself, probably. Lightning bolts cracked the sky as a figure descended from the heavens, clad in bronzed or purple or his favourite coloured armour, and sporting a pair of sunglasses and a smug grin. “ALLFATHER ACHRONOS,” Elegiac wailed in fear, fearfully fearing that this was indeed his final stint of shitposting, despite being a well-loved member on Our Side, or is that just me? “Has the day finally come?” Forky croaked, gazing at the sky until his neck ached. Or his fork tines could go no higher. And consequently ached. “Ow.” “What, July 7th?” Achronos asked. “Yeah.” “Awesome,” True Underdog grinned from the HFCS bunker, deep under the bowels of The Flood HQ. That’s right, [i]under[/i] the bowels. This shit goes deep. “What do we get this year?” “Something that didn’t actually happen on Bungie Day,” Achronos explained with a chuckle. The laughter deepened with a metallic echo, and the Overlord’s chest armour unfolded, revealing a chamber in his chest. Reaching into his torso, he heaved out a titanic, oval-shaped object, a fin on one end, holding it aloft. “Well, I meant the day that Achronos nuked the Flood, actually,” Forky said. “So yeah. Also, Achronos as a nuke-producing cyborg? That's either hilarious or awesome. Hell, why not both?" “I don’t care,” Smiggles laughed, shaking her head. “I’m totally drawing that shit.” The bomb tumbled to the earth. The world watched and waited. Then, Achronos whipped out his shotgun and detonated the thing prematurely, much like a Floodian inside a woman. Also, because Achronos is a shotgun whore. Seriously. Bungie Podcast. Listen.