It is the 21st Millennium. For more than a hundred centuries the Emperor of Offtopic has sat immobile on the Golden Toilet of Bungie.Net. He is the master of Offtopic by the will of the moderators and master of a million crappy copypastes by the might of his inexhaustible alternate accounts. He is a rotting carcass writhing invisibly with power from the Dark Age of the Flood. He is the Carrion Lord of the vast Imperium of Offtopic for whom a thousand dead memes are sacrificed every day so that he may never truly die. Yet even in his deathless state, the Emperor continues his eternal vigilance. Mighty battlefleets cross the banhammer-infested miasma of the Forum, the only route between distant posts, their way lit by the Porchstronomicon, the psychic manifestation of the Emperor's attention span. Vast users call each other names in His name on uncounted posts. Greatest amongst his soldiers are the Adeptus Altstartes, the Meme Marines, meme-engineered super alts. Their comrades in arms are legion: the Forum Lurkers and countless Offtopic defence forces, the ever-vigilant Ban-Happy Ninjas and the meme-priests of the Adeptus Memechanicus to name only a few. But for all their multitudes, they are barely enough to hold off the ever-present threat to Offtopic from #Destiny, Moderators, Common Sense -- and far, far worse. To be a user in such times is to be one amongst untold billions. It is to live in the dumbest and most pointless regime imaginable. These are the tales of those times. Forget the power of technology and science, for no one here payed attention in high school, those lessons never to be relearned. Forget the promise of progress and understanding, for in the grim dank future there are only political arguments. There is no peace amongst the Forums, only an eternity of bans and temper tantrums, and the laughter of thirsting Bungie Employees.