It was a dark and stormy night, and the noder ran wildly through the undergrowth. Breath came in spasms as he hurried closer towards his home node. Branches, dripping with node gel whipped about his face, biting through skin, drawing the XP that was his very life blood.

The sound of his nodes being nuked was coming closer, the clacking of keyboards filling in editor logs ringing in his ears. The manicial laughter of Lord Brawl sounded over the site. Dannye raised up his hunting horn and blew, and Yossarian let nine9 and edb off the leash...

The noder slowed, the nodegel dripping down his face, splattering onto the ground. He tripped over a random node, face down. With a shudder, he rolled over, to see red eyes glowing in the darkness ...

"Told you, don't create getting to know you nodes. Hard link. Research. Earn your bullshit. And now you must pay the price." the eldritch voice whispered.

A bright light. A loud explosion. Then the nodegel was still. The user checked his pockets. A little XP was lost. Nothing more, except perhaps some pride. He lived to node another day ...


This is living proof, some nodeshells should die alone ...

One? How cute, if only you were so lucky. No, dear sir, one of the editors is not out to get you, all of the editors are out to get you. 

There was a day where it was only one, but they spoke about you at a Meeting of the Secret Cabal. You were actually a topic on the agenda, the meeting had to run overtime for all of the discussion that took place. There were follow up items put onto the list, and every meeting since has had you as a lingering follow up item, along with regular progress reports.

They've broken out editors into focus groups, and yes, that is also a plural used there. A multi-pronged attack was considered the ideal way to bring about success. One of the task groups has decided to split into two, they had so many members participating.

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