Soft envelope of night drapes over the harsh desert. Searing heat becomes the bitter cold. Huddle together, close, teeth chatter over the nocturnal sounds. But this chattering is met with the unnatural chattering of the wind. Looking up, the desert floats in front of you, both lonely and loamy. Who can even guess what this earthen creature desires? Who can even fathom the wishes of a desert? It’s voice is carried on the wind. All creatures in the desert hear it, but interlopers can never relate.

[Halloween 2009] "You... make man?" "No. Woman." The immature perversions of a child trapped in an ageless body are difficult for his men to rationalize, or at least for those that retain some small semblance of autonomy. But he yearns and what he craves, he must surely get. Hunched over a jigsaw pile of cadavers in a Frankenstein lab. It weighs on anyone's mind. It warps it to compliment the pathos of the master.

Note - the Dogfish's legs are backwards, but it was too late to change this. I was consoled by someone "He looks awfully stressed anyways, so maybe he put them on backwards." ... ... It works for me.

[ebff2011] Starmen of all ages and military ranks! Do YOU have what it takes to conquer this miserable mudhole in record time? Want to be SUPER like Christine? Crush those squealing humans beneath your cold, hard heel? Feel superior as we stew these meat bags like prunes? (Get your paraffin set aside because we're going to be canning these suckers to take on the road) So shoot for the stars! It shouldn't be hard, because that's where we're from! So kick up your efforts, ramp up your assaults. All Starmen will receive a raise, only one in every one hundred twenty eight will be deemed SUPER enough to take away a rare sacred Earth treasure! Because when we're through, that's all that's going to be left.