The Time Machine

To quote some person I never knew, "It's pretty much the best chat ever." Alas, it appears he/she/it/other doesn't know the half of it.

Brief insight to the barely known historical events of questionable importance
Once, a lowly fellow stumbled into the world. He brought a blue police box and a little, glowing, whirry stick. After some obscure dueling involving fourteen cyborgs, some french toast, a glass of white wine vinegar and a twenty-eight foot mushroom, the afore-mentioned fellow upgraded his blue box for a slightly better red one. Thus, The Time Machine was born! (Due to some crazy time-related paradox, this hasn't happened yet. Apologies for any incorrect information, this is all based on heresay and what the rumour-mill spouts out. Any reference to actual persons or events are either coincidental or accidental)

Judging by graffiti in various taverns across the world, some years after this mysterious past (or years before [or, quite frankly, simultaneously with]) the Time Machine finally ran low on gas. It was parked outside a station and remains there to this day, awaiting its precious "Premium" to become affordable. Many carjackers have forced their way in and out over the years (leaving after the slow realization that a red wooden box that doesn't look like a car, but in fact looks like a red wooden box, isn't a shiny blue sports-car after all) and with them went the original owner.

Today, (this day, not the present, which isn't now but in the future, because the past is the present and thus the future, making them synonyms and yesterday tomorrow and thus allowing us to have refueled several times over already) the box has been putting along through space, picking up hitchhikers with shiny thumbs and sketchy travel guides, and using wavelength manipulation to make people believe the aforementioned is all true.

Despite all preceding paragraph transition words such as "today", even more recently (though possibly not yet but more likely old news) the Time Machine was (is being or will soon be) stolen by a masked hooligan that knew how to drive boxess that defy reality without melting their own brain. This unknown person is still (perhaps was or will) at the helm with nine mosaics on the wall signifying the number ten in about two thousand and nine codes put together. With the aid of this mystical number brainwashing the local fairies and mushrooms into servitude, the Time Machine went on to star in a key role of "Pirates of the Caribbean" under the disguise of a plank of wood within a ship's hull. For convenience, however, the Time Machine's passengers may instantaneously find, lose, depart, or arrive simply by quoting the ultimate question to life the universe and everything in Latin converted to binary.

Rules


It is often said that he with little knowledge of rules willn't get far in places with them. However, it's not as if this is the whole truth. The willn't can be replaced by willnae, will nay, will not, won't... etc. He could be a she, an alien, a cyborg or other being of undefinable gender, this line still holds for them. Either way:


 * While spelling, grammar, punctuation, context, etc. are helpful, they aren't necessary. That being said, at least try to show some effort in this respect, else we won't understand you... and we'll make that clear as day. Or they'll be our hired pedants correcting all your mistakes. So, after a long think, forgetting that I is a capital i is the only leeway you'll have ^_^


 * As awesome as "all-caps" might be, turn Caps Lock off. Anything fully capitalised will be ignored. Basically, Caps Lock is not cruise control for cool.


 * When you win a badge or card, do not copy the text alert saying you've won into the chat. We know that you are tremendously proud that you won 5 points for pressing the start button, but it's still spam.


 * No links to sites such as MyBrute or MyMiniCity that tell you to actively spam such links.


 * Plus, no flaming. No one likes having people argue with countless swearwords popping up each second when trying to play a game.


 * Lastly, if you're bored, play a game. That's what the site is about. Gaming, talking, fun.

Troll Population
Trolls, as in most places, pop up from time to time in the Time Machine. How they get past the doors reinforced to resist black holes is a mystery but they get here none the less. The local troll population has reached a low point these last couple centuries and its members come into contact with civilization infrequently. An average troll will usually play out in one of three ways, the first of which is a rapid-fire muting causing them to leave with their capability to spot potential victims greatly maimed. The second possibility is them getting overwhelmed by how well trained the residents of the Time Machine are in the skill of publicly humiliating trolls. While the previously described method is considered less favorable than the others, it frequently achieves its goal of ushering trolls out of inhabited areas. The final situation is the involvement of professional troll exterminators, burning away any persistent nuisance.

Such control measures over these beasts leaves it no mystery that the troll population is far lower than that of many other rooms.

The Regulars
In a place where physics is a mere rumour, where you can fit thousands of people in a few cubic feet's worth of space, there are people. Some of these people pop in and out often, some stay for in excess of three minutes. The latter part enjoy the joys of a joyful reference. How joyous they must be now!

sirferret2 Developer icon.gif
[Member since January 16, 2008]

Rumour says he's a ferret in human form trying to take over the pet shop industry, one shop at a time. Some say it's two shops at a time. I, for one, am a firm believer of the lesser known tale. He's a ferret dressed as a fox in horse form. This horse is quite adept at transformation and thus has turned into a ninja. The ninja was picked up by a nobleman and paid to be a jester. Once sirferret2 had enough money to legally change his name, he changed it to fert and hides in the sewers below The Time Machine. He pops his head up on a near-daily basis for a round of cookies and milk and avoids speaking of his past unless drunk.

Totodile3
[Member since October 12, 2008]

By far, one of the most awesome gals ever to have entered the vague walls of this box, until she suddenly disappeared. Known to like pokemon and being awesome, she can be summed up in four words: A We So and Me, in that order. She, like fert, was once a lowly creature who suffered a series of (mis)fortunate events. Not so extreme to have a series of books written about, but pretty darn close! She was a young crocodile in the deep dark recesses of Pennsylvania but made the mistake of winning a Round-the-World trip from an un-aired episode of Catchphrase, which lead her to be abandonned on Japan. Whilst here, she (it has been told in half-whispers, nothing more) tinkered with thermite, serious poisons and radioactive atoms. Due to these strange interests, and a strangely large amount of money, she was awarded a Colpey Medal in 2003 for her discoveries on the immune systems of rats, cats, dogs and trucks. But, much to her dismay, this was revoked after some rumours involving some of her subjects. Stolen by John Gurdon. After 14.153 suicide attempts (where only 4.69 were successful), Toto became mutated and thenceforth was saved by some wierd guy from the Nintendo conspiracy. From hereon out she has been a huge part of Pokémon, and due to some strange paradoxical time-slump this latest meeting happened 4 years before she even visited Japan. After news of this anomaly was leaked to the media, Totodile was left by Ash with Professor Oak so Ash could cheat on her with other monstrous beings and from there ran to this paradox machine. Of course, that's only what she tells us, so this might all be a convoluted lie (Fert's got all the information he needs, he's just stuck trying to add 2 and 2 together. He keeps saying he gets three, but I think he is missing something obvious)

Person: so i heer u liek mudkipz?

Toto: NO I LIEK TOTODILEZ!!!!!

slipknotsystem2
[Member since December 10, 2008]

As many a noobling'll tell you "Stop calling me a noobling!". If you listen to them long enough, they'll also mention this guy. Everyone looks up to him, in that way they must. He's really really tall. Size aside, he's a big part of this corner of t'internet (think of the internet as some very spiky ball, we're in one of those spikes). And, if it helps, he's your man if you want an overly complicated ASCII face made (maybe as complicated as :) or =D, who knows how far he'll go O.o')NOBODY KNOWS >:{D


 * ...except about eight people. --Sirferret2 14:50, 24 April 2009 (UTC)

moorsy
[Member since December 22, 2008]

A burning sensation welled up in Harold's throat. The strong drinks always had that problem, but he was comforted by the knowledge that the next few he threw back wouldn't sting so much. It was his birthday gift to himself; he needed to be inebriated before he stepped stumbled out of his basement, into the wide world, and to strike the biggest deal of his lifetime.

Once he'd drained the bottles of their respective elixirs, Harold fell up the stairs. "I'm missing a shoe", he observed, unaware that he was wearing a single wellington boot and a 9" stiletto. He ambled through the kitchen, sending pots, pans, plates, knives, fridge magnets, empty milk cartons, chairs, toasters, microwaves, kettles and a refrigerator on their quick descents, before realising that it's easier to leave a room through a door than wandering around it. Finally! After nigh on 2 hours, Harold made it to the local cornershop next door and stood behind the counter. "It's my first day, I can't let anything go wrong... maybe I'll even sell something!", he hoped.

As if in answer to his prayers, an angelic chorus chimed and a bright light filled the room. The passing ambulance sped out of view; at which point Harold noticed a figure looming over him as he laid amongst a pile of glockenspiels - he had momentarily passed out again. The silhouette asked, in a strikingly deep voice, "I'd like a 4B pencil, a can of Dr. Pepper and a reasonably good recipe book for explosives, if I may".

"M-m-m-most certainly, sir", replied Harold, amazed at his luck, "That'll be £5.67, please", and promptly handed the fellow a £50 note, the requisitory items and a shoelace. And that's why moorsy prefers shopping online: he already has enough shoelaces.

moorsy's a stoic, sarcastic, pedantic cynic, among other things. He'll burn holes in your pockets for money, or holes in your unused condoms for giggles. He'll make you tea if you're thirsty, happy if you're sad, clothes if you're na... ok, he'll laugh at you for that one, but he tried... Talk to him if you'd like to know anything else (his usual sleeping habits, planned Valentine's day activities, views on long pieces of string, definition of caltroptophilia, skeletons in his closet or any other plausible question), but only if you aren't one of those people who cherish their sanity...

moorsy'd also like to tell you that this is the best game on Kongregate [http://api.ning.com/files/i*tyNPbV0B6DJzWw6DsCrdzaMQJ*84CkVZ-Dpd4-diHKNUXT8Hp-qB7f*97jkHCVsRR9h0c*6v6NiloWr8TwGZj6MxRpUKIu/lostthegame.jpg Here it is! You'll love it!] You may have to wait for the Wikia guards to let you out, or the page to load.

Tibbles
[Member since November 26, 2008]

Fert and Toto aren't the only animals that frequent this hell-hole (that's a hole in hell where the weird benign people hide, we got lost... ok?). Tibbles is a runaway cat who sook refuge in the only place he could physically hide: outside of physics. He has been known to steal fert's milk and eats small fish which are caught by our avid fishermen. Just make sure never to feed him after midnight, unless it's 8am (GMT)

bloonsoverlord
[Member since July 07, 2010]

bloonsoverlord was never a normal child, not from the day he was discovered in a cupboard in the Time Machine that no-one had noticed. It was soon discovered that he could survive any hit dealt to him (yes, even if the hit was made by an atom bomb) and he put his talents to good use. Well, he would have, except he couldn't be bothered - he decided that it was too cold outside and stayed to chat with Tibbles and epic. It was during these coversations that he discovered his other amazing powers: the power to talk in capitals a lot, spam, rickroll, and annoy. He was soon taught a lesson by being chucked off a cliff.

A lot of the time bloons can be found chasing after badges, or making terrible jokes that he realises aren't that funny. When nobody laughs he marks those people on a list. Legend has it that he has the power to kill everybody in the Universe - perhaps he is going to get his revenge? Only time will tell. Although that's a bit silly, as he lives in a time machine.

Feel like pwning somebody? Steer clear. You will be ruthlessly cut down and slaughtered. That is the power of the bloon. The power to be awesome. The only insult that can defeat him is a REALLY good one. Go on. Try him. I dare you.

Miatog
[Member since October 01, 2008]

Miatog is far older then anyone in the Time Machine. He's lived for over 2024 years and has recently (by who's time frame? I mean this is a time machine) founded a religion based on smacking down noobs and cheaters who use walkthroughs. Miatog is not someone you should be messing with, unless you're a stupid lunatic like fert. Especially when he's trying to get a badge that's rather annoying. The Miatogi are known to be as, if not more, secretive than the Illuminati, but lacks the conspiracy, secrecy and government controlling. The Miatogi intend to use the governments of the world in their own ways to conspire against Christianity and purge the Earth...ernet of cheapskate gamers!

faddyabc
[Member since October 07, 2008]

Faddyabc is a guy. If you are dumb enough to NOT read his bio, than he suggest's you get off the internet and find a rope strong enough to hang your rotund girth.

A few things though; Grammar is nice, Yellow is cool, Redundancy is ironic-considering it's usually coming from a small child. Although it must be admitted that whoever thinks that clearly doesn't understand irony.

I, Faddy, do say this though: I like to provide thought; ideas that make you think. Because when I do, you're usually to slow to catch on. Assuming that my supposed ideas aren't really just covert insults.

Also, here is my facebook. Yes, I'll say who I am on Kong. I could care less about fat nerds who make fun of me when they probably could stand to lose some pounds and get a life.

AgentLampshade
[Member since November 26, 2008]

A mysterious entity with a mysterious purpose. Hailing from 2026, AgentLampshade is the last Agent Of Time, the rest being utterly destroyed by Pingu58 and his penguin army. To this day, AgentLampshade harbours a secret fear and loathing of penguins. Sporting a nice black suit and a pair of shades which serves as his eyes, he recently accepted a mission to spread the message "000100101101010110" (and before you ask, no, it's not binary...but far worse and I'd explode if i told you). Another important mission is the protection of what he calls "The precious Lamp of The Time Machine" (We're not sure if the Lamp actually exists, it could just be a figment of his imagination) and he now considers this a top priority (again, no-one knows what the Lamp is). A founding member of A Really Secret Enterprise (A.R.S.E), an organisation so secretive that their secret must remain TOP SECRET, and thus, they do not exist...Shhhh. Usually maintains a less-than- serious attitude when chatting, but be prepared, insult him and he'll out-logic you and leave you humiliated (i.e. He feeds trolls until they overload, get confused, and shut up. Similar tactics may be viewed in many other members of chat, e.g. sirferret2) - You have been warned. He believes he is a reincarnation of the Greek God Zeus. His nemesis is Pingu58 (He eats people...I swear it). If you need any useless information, this is the guy to come to - He's The Time Machine's official encyclopedia of useless information. (Seriously! What the hell is the Lamp!?)

Pingu58
[Member since November 26, 2008]

The Time Machines 5th animal based freak of nature (I'll leave it to you to decide who the other is). Born in the fires of Antartica (Don't ask, we don't know either), he was part of the penguin revolution in the year 2246 but was captured by the goverment and genetically altered as part of a science experiment. He brought down the organisation by 2253 but was caught in the time rip he caused to destroy the organisation and something something, I wasn't really listening...The nemesis of AgentLampshade, due to the fact that Lampshade is the last Agent of Time, who have been after Pingu for some time. He turns up at the most unusual times (Usually between X o'clock and Half past Y)and promptly disappears again as if he was never there, vanishing like some sort of Black-and-White Ninja. and seems to believe he is Kongregate's official Pleb Translator. (sidenote: He also feeds trolls, feeds them well...And is proudly Scottish). He has recently got into the habit of typing in his accent, thus making many inhabitants unable to understand what the hell he is talking about.

SunsetDown
[Member since November 19, 2008]

Forged in the fires of chaos, a malevolent and powerful being emerged. That was not him. SunsetDown enjoys chatting to everyone in the room, even if they are ignoring him. He also enjoys long walks on beaches and eating pudding. If you poke and prod him enough, he may give in enough to show you the true ultimate secret of life that solves any and all problems: Fire. Never question his methods. Or do. He doesn't care. He also has a profound relationship with his guitar, aptly named Alice, which he plays constantly annoying the neighbors and having the cops called every third friday of May. Oh yes, and recently he has acquired a unsanitary taste for Emoskater312's flesh.

TIMEtoDIE785
[Member since May 18, 2009]

An alien from Deimos, one of the moons of Mars, TIMEtoDIE785 (oft shorten to "Time") is the founder of the great city/empire of Spartaaaaa, OHIO. He has a secret moon base armed with every weapon known to man(and several known to dolphins. Yes, they have more advanced weapons than us, after all, they are the second most intelligent species in the universe to our third, What do you mean that's nonsense? Haven't you ever read/seen Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy? It is dolphins that were smart enough to realize the destruction of the Earth was near! Oops, that was a secret... uh... crap...*injects reader with amnesia* Anywho, where were we? Oh right, I was just preparing to close this parenthesese. Bye!), and uses them to solve every problem to ever encounter his wrath. Although he has all these fancy wapons, his weapon of choice is his stun knife and immunity to jet lag. Anger him and this knife will more than likely decapitate you. He loves the game/movie/game DOOM and will often play it on his iPod while chatting. Time is always correct, even when he is wrong. Some say that Time is not actually a solid form. His ability to travel through time and space without any help gives the impression that he is from the Twilight Zone. He references MGS3 very often. His favorite saying is "Snake? Is something wrong? Answer me PLEASE!!! Snake? SNAAAAAAAAAKE!!!" He generally only says this when the chat dies or will PM it to someone who is not responding to the chat. Just remember that he has the big guns upstairs and WILL use them if you piss him off. Don't piss him off. Please... he fights to the grizzly end and we just don't have time or space for all that blood in here. (What do you mean 'we have infinite time and space here'!? I know we do, I just don't think we should be using it for blood! The last time the cops put the heat on, we nearly lost slipknotsystem2!!! ...yes, that was intended to be interpreted as a bad thing!)

OHIO

The Game has been lost.

elofish
[Member since April 13, 2009]

A fish with a dark obsession for grapes and lepers. Lately she was released from rehab for the leper issue but it was deemed the grape obsession is incurable. She can gallop about on her trusty steed kangaroo just as well as swim, so escape is a difficult prospect if you somehow find yourself on her bad side. You gotta really deserve it though if you find yourself there, so I may as not warn you of any more of her secret tactical methods. She has the night time janitorial shift on kongregate due to the fact that this was written from the perspective of some American showing little consideration for Australians. Her proficiency with a mop is so much beyond legendary that none of you have ever heard of it and this sentence doesn't exist. What were you just reading? I don't know... Why are you here? What? Oh! Elofish... Well, elo is a fish with great prociciency in the art of graping. She's a trained professional grapist, sneaking into little kids rooms in the middle of the night and graping them in the mouth. And that's just the begining of what she's capable of. For more information, please schedule a meeting with her secretary. White chocolate cookies and a basket of grapes are required for every visit. But be warned: those grapes are used for grapings, so yes, you just screwed yourself when you made that appointment. Because she's a grapist that uses grapes to grape grape victims with grapes that she uses in grapings. In the mouth. I hope you like grapes!

64Golden
[Member since March 20, 2009]

Being 64 years old and made from gold, you can guess where I get my name from. Peaches. That's right, it's peaches. C'mon, it's obvious isn't it? Peachy little peaches. Panademic pink pathetic peaches that peel patrioticly in the sun on a sun-day, the day reserved specifically for such a peachy activity in the light of a peach filled afternoon. Not just any old peaches though. These peaches come from deep in a dark devolved hole (see: Devolution of the Inanimate Vol. - 2, Section 8, Subsection 3) in a pencil sharpener made from blue-tack. Learning up to four-thousand words a day they are among the most intelligent creatures to walk the earth's jet stream which is known to be quite unwalkable. They have a tendancy to anger greater beings and therefore they must divide divine divinities divulgingly and delugingly by de-moscing a mosc in order to avoid a total and spontanious existence failure. These fears of total lack of being around to fear their own lack of being thus causing the fear they fear since they don't want to have to fear it are why they're such an inspiration to 64Golden. He will strut around peachily all day flaunting his golden tinfoil hat if you let him, but that generally doesn't get to happen considering how we will have him strapped to the ceiling and watched by at least one armed guard at all times.

hmp511
[Member since August 09, 2009]

Currently residing within the Evil Popcorn Death Whale of the northern seas, hmp makes a living salvaging small pieces of cardboard and sometimes even actual pieces of wood from other consumed artifacts of misfortune. As a result of this lifestyle, his bad luck ratio estimate has not too long ago entered the region of "Curesed for life". He is, however, fortunate to have lived even this long. Most creatures would be long dead if they resided in the death whale for such an amount of time. This is not to mention that this is the Death Whale of Evil Popcorn, which can be described more accurately as being like razor blades than being like popcorn (even if they're salted with butter on them). The secret to his success here, is his body's composition. He is 38% authentic hemp blankets which, when digested, creates a horrible alergic reaction for any unsuspecting Death Whale. Death Whales are known to have very good control over their organ systems and, as such, can specifically avoid actually digesting an object even after ingesting it. On the weekends, hmp holds small rave parties inside the whale's esophagus and may even step outside for an actual bite to eat as apposed to his usual nutritional methods of absorbing semi-edible substances into the sponge-like fibers of his blankety skin. Nobody knows what he does with the rest of his time, aside from collecting his scraps of salvaged carboard. It is not even known what the carboard is intended for. Rumors do exist but they have been discredited as only 74% accurate, which is simply not acceptable.

FatalllyToo
[Member since April 23, 2009]

A wild card. He's either spamming, ranting on about one unfunny thing(which is awesome and everybody loves it; come on - admit it), or being the most awesome guy ever. He enjoys having pony parties and hunting ferrets (run, ferrets, run!). He's a sexy stripper named Teren, married to a female supermodel. He's a drag racer that makes things more interesting by driving only with his left hand. And I mean ONLY. He can speak French, in Russian. While in Germany without getting shot. He is the most interesting man in the world... Has recently gotten into the habit of vandalizing this page. He can get competitive at times, but that's what makes him, him. Anyone that isn't already should meet this man :O.


 * If he drives with only his left hand, what's he doing with his right? --moorsy 17:41, 01/08/09

sky7dc
[Member since October 17, 2008]

To some, known as Peace. To others, known as Sky. To other-er others, known as ERR:VarUndef. (The opinions of the latter group are known to cause bugs in reality and, until a patch is produced, will not be considered in this article. Thank you for your understanding of our harsh biases.) Sky had been a regular to the time machine in ages long since past, until a great shadow loomed over this land and needed defeating because shadows always metaphorically represent something bad. Sky rose to the occaision and set off on a great journey through the time vortex to the lair of the shadow. Since then, he had not been seen nor heard from for many decades... In recent days, however, he returned from the vortex! The shadow is reportedly slain by sky's valorous efforts and his equally valorous pocket flashlight. Today, he lounges in the pool all day. Any complaints about this unfair hogging of the pool are met with responces commonly on the theme of who had lately killed how many sinister entities. Three weeks from now (do not think about that very hard. Time Machines are the number 4 causers of migraines) sky was/is/will be hit in the head with great force by the very flashlight that had once aided him in epic combat. The blow to his head caused a terrible amnesia, wiping all his memories of being in the vortex with the exceptions of when he first entered and when an omnidimensional table got the better of him in a long game of strip poker. Cheating is suspected.

corkerman
[Member since June 08, 2008]

A mighty being with countless occupations. Corkerman first arrived in the Grand Infiltration of OHIO (see below) in 1739. It was a cold and lonely era, where dragons ruled and the sun often wandered off with the moon to play a few round of bingo. Corkerman, in his inexplicable ways, persuaded the sun that playing bingo was code for "scissor scissor eighty seven", which nobody understands but it still made the sun stop shirking in its duties and resume shining upon the land! With an increase in sunlight, the photosynthetic dragons exploded in a shower of suger-rush (thus inventing candy) and the non-photosynthetic dragons moved away in search of a little shop that sells cute sunglasses. Corkerman used his leftover supply of Awesome-Points to invest in the newly started Spiffy Pants Foundation (SPF - see below) when a stray boulder woke up from a nap that never started, ie, became sentient. That investment has since payed off and he is now a top high priest of SPF, preaching the message of the great, grand, and gratuitous boulder known as ᾍδης. Other than that, he is great at lying, with an ego the size of Russia. On his sparetime, he loves himself, to mess with people's head, manipulate, set friends up against eachother, backstab, conspire and being a plain bugger. In other words, he's a right prick, that cork. Recently, he started badmouthing The Timemachine, and has got very few that support him.

emoskater312
[Member since April 25, 2008]

Emoskater is a four legged creature by the name of John Ellis Manning-Vallard. He was born in Prague, but was forced to run away from the Na'vi (or was it just Navi? That fairy is mean as hell!) as a child refugee. He then called Poland his home, where he learned to skate, but got into a brutal accident that he will never forget. He had fractured his left calf (the right calf, center calf, and their mother cow mourned for months to come) and gained deep lacerations down his forearms. It was moments after the accident itself that a crowd of onlookers gathered and took the injuries to mean that he had become a deeply depressive emo. In the following days of ostracization (they made him the size of an ostrich. It was horribly tramatic), John Ellis Manning-Vallard lost his appreciation for young cows and large birds. He decided to flee from his residence to find people who did not know of the rumors surrounding his accident. He would flee to... internet dating sites! But halfway on his journey to the mystical Cave of the Internets, he stumbled across an ominous red wooden police box. Utilizing John Ellis Manning-Vallard's immense distractability, the box convinced him that he was named after the things most frequently on his mind, that he had a strong fondness for squirrels, and that he should enter the box. And so, ever since that moment, he has been known as "Emoskater312" and has been trapped within the wooden box, also known as The Time Machine, which is simply unwilling to spit him back out (much to some people's dismay). Today, emo enjoys bowing down in worship to random stones, being in his corner, and seeking chocolate cake! (Of course, just because he loves cake doesn't mean he's obese or any such thing. It's just that he loves his Sweet Desert! ...that's a desert made of dessert, in case you didn't know. And the dessert in question is a variety of cake called "The Desert" due to its coloration. Plus, most of the dessert is made to be eaten in the desert. In short, it's the Desert of Desert-Dessert, named Desert. It is also notable that this place is the leading cause of suicide amongst grammar nazis.) Emo also wishes it to be known that he is in debt to FatallyToo forever, after he had saved emo's only children (Steve, Jorge, and Jose) from the infamous Evil Popcorn Death Whale's endless, buttery fury(a.k.a President Bush).

EpicGirl95
[Member since June 13, 2010]

EpicGirl, Epic, EG, Egg, Eg-Ge, Eggy (or Aggy, as no friends call her) shares her name with a collection of Icelandic rocks. These rocks are long and cylindrical in shape, and their respective names can be ascertained by taking a cross-section and reading it off either flat end (Legends portend that these rocks taste like sugar). I, for one, have a distant relative of these rocks called Poole: a common mis-spelling of Paul. But I digress. EpicGirl had a short career writing children's stories and, in recognition of her talents, Nickelodeon hired her to write a series of cartoons. The most famous of her productions features a young girl and anthropomorpic friends as they scour the world, teaching the audience various degrees of Norwegian. The young lass, Nora, is rarely seen without her beat friend Doc. Martin (the Baboon). Together, each episode, they are asked to find a certain object for an unknown contact and, to engage their little viewers, the duo oftentimes ask the children if they know where to get the aforementioned object. Every journey they take involves regular helpful insight from the combined omniscience of Cigarette Paper and Suitcase of Non-consecutive Bills, the latter being a happy blue box filled with numerous Lilliputians called Bill. Now, Epic knows full-well that no successful TV program is without it's own antagonist; a position filled by the seemingly-evil Spiker the Pretzel. Spiker, as his name suggests, is a large Pretzel and, without fail, tries to spike one of Nora's many drinks (leading to shouts of "Spiker! No spiking!" from the children now glued to the screen). Unfortunately, even though this titbit of information is very useful, the viewers are likely to forget by the time they get their first taste of Rohypnol. Nickelodeon were fine with everything to this point, but were dubious of the name of the show, Nora the Disorder, since it alluded to her off-screen tourettes and drinking problems. Epic tried to change the story to a hat that was slightly too large for people's heads: Dora the Fedora. This was looked upon with disgust. Dora the Angora, a ball of fluff that would occassionally become matted; Dora the Menorah, a nine-branched candelabrum fed up with Jewish ceremonies and Dora the Ant (note the lack of rhyming, a clear sign of Epic's desperation) were all cut short just moments before their pilot episodes. Epic finally snapped when Nick Jr. (synonymous with 4Kids) stole the plot line, changed a few names and made a "child-friendly" series instead. Epic, now having lost all source of income was forced out of the streets, became rejected by the homeless and went to sleep in a conveniently placed policebox. And the rest, as they say, is history... well, that was too, but you know what I mean... OK, so it might not have happened yet due to paradoxes, timeslumps, lethargy and torpidity...

Mnayin
[Member since April 08, 2009]

Mnayin, after (or before) hearing Totodile's claim to fame as a scientist, decided to get in on the action. Toto rejected the kind offer, so Mnayin turned to science instead. Now, as we all surely know, the only way for a budding young sciencer (low-budget scientist) to make a name for themselves is to come up with some radical new theory or discovery... or they could make their own name. However! this cannot be a new theory about O3 radicals, because that's just cheating. Mnayin, in hir infinite wisdom, decided that the much-overlooked time-travel was the key to stardom (rockets are better, quicker and much more easily understood... but time-travel's surely not rocket science, is it?). Time-travel, also, was conceptual at best even with so-called "contempory science", so it was a good idea from all angles (except from here). After much researching, or rooting through neighbours' sheds, shi found the most effective way to make one is via the amalgmation of a banana skin, a hammer, a 1930's style clock and a red, wooden box. Days after Mnayin started hir journey of nigh-on-epic proportion, shi stumbled upon a red, wooden box. Exactly what shi was looking for! So, in shi wanders and, with said paraphenalia in hand, shi goes back in time. Alas, shi was uneducated in the ways of the Time Machine, left the brakes on, and teleported hir body into that of hir former self. Shunned by the ever-hopeful physicians and the friends who dare not speak of that one fateful day, the inhabitants welcomed Mnayin back into the box, where shi has lived ever since.

Geega17
[Member since November 22, 2007]

Once upon a purple moon (a blue moon just above the horizon), Geega was a budding psychologist. For his university thesis, he hoped to study the dormant psychic capabilities of jack-in-the-boxes. Having collected a few thousand in a vain attempt to quash unexpected varibles, he was told he had to study real people. So, to please the lecturers, Geega undertook the first serious investigation into the degree of dyslexia among square lemon salesmen. Weeks are the research should have been handed in, Geega suddenly noticed that square lemons are actually in the shape of a cube! Such a profound mis-use of the english language could only mean one thing: Americans were involved at the heart of this. With this in mind, he skedaddled over to the Googleplex in California to search at the insanely high speed of a frozen snail. In the deep, dark depths of the dingest den, Geega found a big, blue box (the blue box was Google's ultimate non-server computer) and with it, he found a red box therein and links to Amazon where one could purchase very square lemons. Aha! The lemons were originally square! Having bought a crate of them and tracked the parcel, he learnt that the lemons gain a dimension as they slip into the pockets of the lowly salesmen; a fourth as they enter the Time Machine's mailbox; a seventh (skipping two intermediary levels) when are brought into the Time Machine and finally the third when they are sent into the grasping hands of the illiterate many. With such a disregard for the workings of physics, Geega felt he should upload himself to the Time Machine and has been stuck in our freezer ever since.

The Irregulars
Of course, on occaision those who have rioted through this box in the past do something illogical such as visiting the strange realm of "Earth" and losing sight of the path back to the safe white padding of insanity. These individuals who have been on the list entitled "The Regulars" but no longer can find their way home are as follows:

Unknown_Mystery Owner.gif [[File:Moderator_icon.gif]] (Ex-Room Owner)
[Member since August 02, 2009]

Often nicknamed "Unknown", "UM", or "OMG, a mod!!!", he/she/it is a mysterious moderator here with an unknown purpose. (Assuming it's not the way too obvious one of being a moderator on Kongregate.) He/She/It is of unknown gender, species, mindset, birth date, opinion on donuts, chess skill level, dance ability, hair color, hair amount, existence, breed, intention, pet ownership status, mysteriousness, real name, real avatar, favourite crayon techniques, pencil number, aliases, future iTunes library total songs number (presumably over 9000), view on memes, StarCraft skil l level, 'Dance, Dance, Revolution' high score, income level, bounty level, shoe size, shirt size, pants size, hat size, socks size, undergarment preferences, preferred glove texture, intelligence (presumably high), popularity, time traveling savviness, life expectancy, other pants size, location, number of earned intarwebz, pizza topping preference, shoe style, anti-virus software, operating system, taco count, credit card number, work place, telephone number, fax number, additional other pants size, political correctness, ability to spew on demand, secret intentions, sanitation, awesomeness (speculated to be higher than we know [so far: 3]), favorite number, progress in the quest for the holy grail, political preference, favored font, alt status, international travel means, paranoia, extra additional other pants size, favorite position, preferred brand of macaroni and cheese, view on macaroni and cheese, allergies, wiki site, and pants size. The only known thing about him/her/it (and even this is debated) is that he/she/it is/will be/was the Time Machine's room/square/vacant space owner/land lord/tyrant/butler.

NOTE: I did not write any part of this description. Unknown

rurin
[Member since October 13, 2008]

Rurin has, and does know a lot. When she's on, she has little time for gaming but will speak to her heart's content. Ask her, she'll tell you.

sd198
[Member since December 24, 2008]

Person of undisclosed gender of undisclosed nature.

shortstuffs117
[Member since November 13, 2008]

Lives in the nether regions of the Netherworld, speaks of speeches that are currently being spoken. Little else is known of this lad.

e1323
[Member since May 03, 2009]

Proof that the old adage "You are what you eat" still holds true in this day and age, e1323 ate tons of jelly, icecream and tasty E number tablets (like vitamin tablets, but taste like every fruit you can think of at the same time (and about as useless)) in a 4.3 year test in his 70s. I'm not entirely sure on the reasons behind the obscure transformations he underwent; some say it was an allergic reaction to oxygen, others lean towards the idea of one of the jellies being alive at the time of ingestion... but to cut a long story short, improvise on the now-missing majority, cut it again, translate it terribly back to english via at least four other languages and tell it: e1323 was actually a Cybernetic, Altruistic Motor Prompt or C.A.M.P. called Epsilon-372906160441327... (a 574 digit number) used for testing, since animals no longer suffice. However, due to the large consumation of sugary goodness, e1323 noticed that the 574 digit number was equal to e^1323 (unsurprising, in hindsight) so changed his name to ε-e^1323, and consequently to e1323. This last transition was partly due to the large numbers of E numbers he had devoted his previous 4 and a bit years to (thus showing a degree of insanity) and because he had become just that lazy. His designer noticed this once it was too late, and exiled his fructose-filled friend to the past. Noticing this alteration to space-time, we decided to ignore it... that was, until e1323 knocked on our door with cookies. We had to let him in then.

stinkystilton
[Member since February 10, 2009]

Pretty much is what it says on the tin.

Legends of Paradoxical Consequence
There has been talk, likely rumors but potentially more, of some slightly stranger things occuring in the Time Machine. Unfortunately for the reader of this article, "strange" is a term with unknown relative value. It is likely these stories are strange from the perspective of the inhabitants of this strange box. Strange to the strange of course, would be normal unless it is so strange it goes a level beyond strange and is recognized simply as plain "strange" to the strange one in question. Of course, as normal inhabitents of a strange box, they may be strange inhabitants fromt he perspective of a non-strange box, thus making them strange inhabitants of a strange box and so normal or beyond causing their idea of the term strange in relation to these stories to be strange to the point of mind blowing, extremely strange, simply strange, slightly strange, totally normal, or flatly boring. If it is indeed normal, however, then that too, must be considered within its unknown context to be either normal or abnormal and so leaving the options of what is strange to be overlapping and layered into a multi-dimensional concept. It is unknown whether strange minds are capable of multi-dimensional thinking due to nobody being normal enough to both experience it theoretically and reliably report this phenomenon and so the multi-dimensioned options must be compressed into the simple realm of a single dimension. This complicates things and divides groups into subgroups into subsubgroups. As such, how strange any strange thought may be must be catalogued through a complex sequence of codework in order for anybody to comprehend when it is uttered that it is strange as is may be strange catagory #869Alpha3 or something completely different such as catagory #hex999 (to the third root). These legends have generally been accepted as variety #8127 with a touch of #ju77x scattered around. It has been remarked that this whole description and introductory section is strange, however, so please completely disregard this until it is properly caged, tagged, labeled, and catagorized. This will be difficult if the ones to catagorize proceed to follow instructions and ignore it though. If they do not, they shall be fired and possibly terminated due to overall lack of competence in the field of following a simple order and all decisions made by them shall be undone. Please proceed with caution and wipe your feet on the mat provided.

The Curse of OHIO and Its Infiltration
As one who regularly observes the behavior here may notice, they are times when frantic and possibly panicked cries of "Ohio!" may be heard. These are oft delivered in full caps and with a multitude of exclamatory markings in order to convey the importance of this word. We who document this strange occurance have come to the conclusion that this is the dark curse of OHIO. One may wonder why it is "OHIO" as apposed to "Ohio" but one may also wonder whether a roll of paper designated for a restroom should hang under or over the roll, so it is obviously an utterly idiotic question to ask. The record shows that the origin of this subject is vaguely as follows with a 100% margin of error:


 * I was walking my dog Oswald the other day, when I figured I would ask my brother to say a state in chat. Now we all do it. It's cool.

Again, this is a plate-load of tripe to be disregarded. Everybody knows it is as follows now from this point. The naming of the state of Ohio was truly a misfortune filled occurence, with all men involved feeling bitter and annoyed once a name was chosen. It was chosen as a compromise, not so that they're all equally happy, but so that they're all equally annoyed. Soon, the opinion of distaste spread and everybody felt fairly and equally annoyed by this naming. But nobody dared change it because obviously they might pick something even worse like "Texas". With the overall percentage of unhappy people reaching 100% for the first few years of Ohio's existence, it became nearly impossible for the name to ever be uttered without causing a mass wave of unhappiness and sour moods. As time passed, however, some people got used to it and others moved in who had not yet felt the influence of the massive dislike of the name. The eerie wave of unhappiness still existed at the thought of the name though. It became embedded in the very land. The combination of the ingrained unhappiness and no actual reason for it gave it a new twist of utter confusion when the feeling came about. This, in turn, was ingrained into the land and people slowly became more anxious about it as they became aware of this spontanious and inexplicable feeling. Years went by and it grew to the point that anybody who was unfortunate enough to have the concept of what state they were in cross their mind would immediately have a mental breakdown, a minor seizure, and the speach center of their minds would be overridden with the treacherous word: Ohio. This whole type of reaction inflicted enough fear however, that the word soon started to come out in a more panicked fashion. Going from "Ohio..." to "OHIO!!!!!!". This is how the Curse of OHIO functions. Even today, as one, hypothetically, drives down the road and crosses the state boarder into Ohio, the vast majority of the time they have a massive muscle lockup and plow their vehicle into a tree as they scream the curse's titilular word.

Not too long ago in reletive terms of a Time Machine, many a man from Ohio entered into this box. With them came the worry, the superstitions, the accidents of the shunned name with three vowels and a consanant. This is how the Curse of OHIO slowly infultrated the Time Machine and gradually imbedded itself into the red panels and plaid silk illusionary cushion that make up the chat room. Be worried for the safety of your fellow creature (?) when a wave of the OHIO reallization sweeps through. The only warning we can give you is: Stay away from breakable valuables and do not resist. It kills more braincells than it saves.

SPF and ᾍδης
A cult of the occult yet nonoccult just the same. This group frequently refered to by the acronym SPF but formally entitled The Spiffy Pants Foundation has a weak (some would say nonexistent) stranglehold over the entirety of the Time Machine and its political workings (also said to be nonexistent) maintained with an iron grip that coincidentally is comprised of very thin alluminum sheeting. Cofounded by sirferret2 (also The Chosen One, wearing the sacred Fancy Pants of vibrant orange fabric) and corkerman, this wide spread (but localized) religion containing many regulars of the Time Machine follows the teachings of the great magical boulder-god (Not god of boulders. A god that is a boulder.), ᾍδης. The philosophy of the wise, floating, talking, ᾍδης generally follows around a couple simple principles: ᾍδης may be summoned via any improvised chant that is uttered with the sole purpose or requesting his precense and authority. When summoned, it is commonplace for somebody to get crushed by his immense weight as a sign of approval and possibly affection.
 * ᾍδης must be worshipped and accepted without doubt or question.
 * All pants worn must be as spiffy as possible in any given situation.
 * If pants are not an option, other leg garments worn instead must also strive for spiffy perfection.
 * If no garments of any type can be found to be used over one's legs and such regions generally inside a pair of pants, then one must find a writing instrument and make their very legs and such areas spiffy. This only has to be followed if it is expected that such a situation will last for at least three days.
 * On casual Fridays, and casual Fridays only, one may choose any garment to be spiffy. At least one spiffy garment is required at all times.
 * Even on casual Fridays, when being reviewed for membership, it is pants that must be spiffy.

Infection and Evacuation
It is generally agreed upon by most people that the Time Machine is suffering a rather unfortunate plague. For the well being of those who would be daft enough to care about such a meaningless place, many regulars are slowly being escorted out of the Time Machine. Their final destinations are, in most cases, outside of distorted and acursed place known as Kongregate altogether. A few such locations have also been named by some for example purposes. One may expect that such examples would be given as examples, but that is simply not the case. Henceforth, all who depart are considered legally dead and most likely burried, with any wills and other documents thoroughly taken care of already. Given a period of two months, all of a given hypothetical person's memories of anybody other than said hypothetical being itself should be expunged and gone forever. The death tole is rising daily and can be said to be quite deadly. The most potentially confusing bit would be those who claim that this whole plague issue is completely made up. Some say that this section of the room's articles was written by somebody that was biased with an incurrably negative and unfair view. Those "some" individuals, who we assume are large rats that learned English from a drunked Portuguese lad on a hot Friday afternoon one fine December, are most likely correct. That said, we implore those that do not fall under the category of "some" to completely ignore the existance of "some" and take this seriously. As additional information to add to one hypothetical reader's thoughts, studies have shown that when a hypothetical reader is asked to take the "Infection and Evacuation" section of this article seriously and the reader thinks to himself or herself that they are, they most likely are not even close to taking it seriously enough. We would now like to hypothetically kick the hypothetical reader right in his or her hypothetical teeth, which may or may not exist (hypothetically). An extent of seriousness that would, hypothetically, prove serious enough is what most people would refer to as "nearing a mad obsession".

ox