Check out what DXX World Champ Terrell Odom posted for their PPV (http://dxxrecharged.proboards.com/index.cgi?board=ppvrps&action=display&thread=726&page=1) YESTERDAY!
And now, check out the rp I posted (http://darkhorseonline.net/jackson/MWA/jax17.htm) in MWA on January 12th.
HOLY CRAP!
Anyone else find that really annoying?
OMFG... this dude is using all of my rps.
His last RP (http://dxxrecharged.proboards.com/index.cgi?action=display&board=archivesmassmayhem&thread=698&page=1)
And mine... from ESW, circa 2007: http://home.cogeco.ca/~darkhorseonline/esw46.htm
Holy crap, that is disguisting... you should send a PM to the fedhead with links showing your work (along with the forum post that shows the date and cant be disputed) and have him screwed over big time.
Gotta say, that must really suck as you put alot of time and effort into your RPs and you are a great storyteller. only for some jackass to copy and paste and change names on RPs.
Either that or feel flattered someone is using your work and its getting them championships elsewhere.
But yea, you should lay a few truths on this fed, maybe even publically on thir boards and shame this chump
I've always said that's my biggest problem with me being on the fringes of rping society: I'd never know if someone was swiping my old rps. Of course given how bad my W-L record was I would find it funny if someone did steal them. But yeah dude. Bring the hammer down hard on him.
Oh shiz... Fucker needs to be beaten to death with a nice heavy dictionary...
Either that or publically shamed. Yeah go with that.
Yeah, not impressed. Really. Dude's won the World Title with my rps. Hell, Brandy and Joyce get props too. MWA rp was a collab w Brandy, and the ESW one was a collab with Joyce. Fuckbag. I pmed the admins in the fed to report he's stealing. Guess I'll have to get the dude blacklisted on RK too.
Are you sure it's not that one dude that stole RP's from one of Leese's friends and used it IN Leese's fed? *rolls eyes*
And when I went to look, it said the boards were locked to non-members.
Oh, in that case... here: excerpt from his rp that he posted yesterday.
Quote
Living on hope is like being high. It's a nice way to pass the time, but doesn't really get you anywhere.
The Fixx || 1-28-09
I wanted this to be the real thing. I'm so fucking sick of pretending. I wanted it to finally be the real moment of truth. You know, that moment I've been preparing myself for all these years? I guess, with everything else falling apart, I needed something to be real. I need a moment like no other. One of those make or break epic deals. Instead my thunder was stolen by the silent masked man that came out of nowhere with reckless intent. Some fucking Tennessee hillbilly that was one shot of Bourbon short of telling me how much of a fucking liability I am to this company.
People caving in, everything falling to hell. Pieces scattering to the four winds, and here I am, this battle scarred warrior, lost and completely alone, or so it would seem. I got Helloween there to dish out the annuities. Got Devon Poole to take out the little bit of trash left on this roster. Seems to some that there is no limit on this. No ceiling. Shouldn't be so petty towards the likes of Jimmy James to come in and take this World Title away from me, but maybe I should start considering that a possibility. Takes out the beloved Jay Z and squashes some pencil dick jobber to prove his points. Wow. Shock me and put me at awe with that one.
I hate myself. I'm sure that comes as a fucking revelation. There's a little bit of that self-loathing that comes with being in this business. If we loved ourselves, we would be content doing anything, instead of feeding off this limelight bullshit. Listen to the words coming from the void, and understand.
Your voice sounds so hollow. You sound some goddamned desperate. What are you reaching for, my friend? What is it that's eluding you? Eloquence? Reality? Where would you like to be in 2010, Jimmy? Out from under the shadow of fools like Tristagi or Kyle Deathlocke??
Here's the real kicker. I don't give a rat's ass about that hollow shit. I choose to be who I am, and do what I came here to do. I don't want to get up under the bright lights, smile that shit-eating grin, and fight over trophies and belts like the rest of you sorry shits. Gone are the guys like me, the throwback purists. I just want to trade a few holds, and go home with a few fresh bumps. I want a fight. Knockdown, throwdown, drag out punches. I want you all to know me for who I am. I am the King here. I am your God.
I want to break some faces, and fuck the place up. This place needs some fucking up.]
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..::-Chapter Eight (Inevitability)-::..
1-10-09 || Quezon City
He stood and walked slowly towards the railing, feeling the wet wood slick against his bare feet. He leaned down, resting his elbows on the balustrade; swollen fingers laced together, hands and arms out in the warm rain as he looked over the sleepy town. He'd expected it to be like this.
"Buttfuck nowhere," he muttered, cocking his head as he listened to the silence around him. Just the sound of the rain, rattling against the metal awning above his head. With his eyes closed, he could imagine the patter of little animal feet, running hastily towards some destination. He bent his head, letting the rainwater soak his hair, washing away the sweat, and grime from the gym. It felt nice to be quiet, a still moment of introspection that wasn't ruined by playing a role, or listening idly for his turn to speak.
The screen door creaked behind him; rusted hinges moving to allow someone passage onto the upper veranda of this small bed and breakfast inn. He didn't move, content to remain there with his hands clasped as though in prayer, rainwater dripping down his nose.
"It's air conditioned inside," she said softly, her hand snaking around his waist, fingers splaying against his clenched abs. She pressed against his back, feeling the familiar contours, despite the fact that he was a lot leaner than he'd been all those years ago when they'd first met. He was harder now, more sinew and muscle.
"We can't keep doing this," his voice was a low murmur, almost lost in the sound of the rain, hitting the roof like stones. Harder now.
The sigh that came from between his lips as he lifted his head was filled with weariness. How many times had they gone back and forth, around and around again? Seemed like at least a thousand. Maybe more.
Was he only handing her the means to destroy him again? Weakness, for sure, but once upon a time, it had been love. God knows, the blame didn't rest solely on her shoulders, or his. Like lightning striking in the same place twice, they were bound by fate.
"Why can't we?" She snapped, her voice rising in challenge, matching the wind driven rain for intensity.
"I hate this." He turned in her embrace, hands closing over her shoulders. Strong fingers dug into the bones, but she made no sound. Defiant.
"No, you don't." She countered, her eyes flicking back and forth as she studied his face. Rainwater matted his hair down, turning the grey strands to black, peeling away some of the years that had been unkind. "Besides, you need me there. You know I keep you level, Terrell."
His eyes narrowed, features transforming into that glower that she found so amusing. She was a cancer, and if he let her get that foot back in the door of his plans for dominance, let her take root again- he'd need to slice her out, forcefully excise her. The thought of cutting her excited him in ways he didn't want to think about right now, not with her hands still wrapped around him like that's where she belonged.
She still turned him on. Every movement of that flawless body of hers drove him mad.
"Stop it, Olivia," he ground out, shaking his head slowly. "This is not where I want to be right now, arguing with you about shit that's already done. Hell and Devon's in. You'll have to fucking learn to coexist."
He pulled away from her, returning to the railing. He leaned over again, letting his hands dangle free in the rain. He'd been trying so hard to steer clear of the bad nights like this. Moments of sheer insanity, trying like hell to tamp down that angry fire that threatened to turn into a blaze. "I can't let you fuck with my head again," he growled, eyes fastened on the rain-slicked streets below.
One hand stole up to the back of his neck, squeezing the base of his skull where the headache loomed. It was always lurking when she was present. She infuriated him to no end. Maybe that was why he loved her so much.
She said nothing, bowing her head as she moved closer to him, reaching up to pull the elastic from her messy ponytail. She tossed her head, knowing that he could sense what she was doing as she dragged her fingers through the loose streaked strands. "No," she said softly, resting her hand against the small of his back, slipping it beneath the edge of the damp t-shirt. The touch elicited goosebumps in its wake, and he shuddered as she worked up towards his shoulders.
"What do you want from me?" He lamented, his voice cracking slightly as he turned his head to look at her.
"Try honesty." The smile that curved her lips was more knowing than the Mona Lisa's. God, she had too many moods, too many damn layers for him to keep track of. "Look me in the eyes, Terrell. Tell me that you don't want me there, and I'll go. Tell me with that steel in your voice, and fucking sincerity. Can you do that?"
The shirt was bunched up now, dragged up against his chest, so he grabbed it behind his head, and pulled it off, letting it drop to the wooden planks. In the dying gray light, she traced the contours of the tattoo that covered the skin, feeling the old scars beneath the ink lines. She remembered when those were fresh, still red and raw. She remembered when he didn't have the tattoo there at all. She'd been sixteen then. She didn't think he'd even remember back that far into their past.
Memories were comforting to her as she let her hands explore his warm skin. Silence spilled out around them, and for a moment she'd forgotten that she'd baited him. She'd forgotten there were questions, let alone a challenge between them. All that mattered was the rediscovery. "I still love you, you know." She said finally, as though the confession had been a long time coming.
"I know," he replied. He turned around in her embrace, pulling her against him. His lips pressed against her forehead. "I love you too."
And no... it's not the same dude. This is a dude I sorta know. A dude that I almost had respect for. He was in PWX with me... and I was in DXX for about a month and a half.
Seriously... Ugh... I almost wanna be sick.
Yeah, it's pretty much word for word with just name changes. Makes me fucking angry. Really.... really.... really angry.
Hmmm... Angry with PMS... I'm stayin' out of the way.
Gotta agree....he needs to be beaten to death with a very large book.
Ok, update. From what I can see his last SEVEN rps there are all mine. So his 7-0 record... is also MINE. Reported him to the fed admins, they asked for proof so I gave lots. Looks like other than the recent MWA one, jackass has been swiping my old PCW and ESW rps. He also stole Aleksander Lyashenko. Hrm, I do believe that character is COPYRIGHTED in my novel. Ooooh... that's bad juju right there.
I had someone steal my character once. Well, sorta... I never actually saw what he did with it.
I got an email from someone, randomly, who linked me to some fed and this guy had "Kameron Chase" as one of his background characters. No biggie, I thought, it's just a name.
Then I looked further and he was using MY banner that I made for MY character -_-
I hate thieves.
holy shit, I just read his response to you Lisa... He is actually trying to justify it. that shit is Fucked up
hehe I get the feeling by the time you get done with this wanker he will be blacklisted from more feds than I am :o
Yeah. Oh I love how he was like "you were a bitch to me so it's ok to steal your shit and the fed is dying anyways."
Yeah... and if it wasn't it will now. The dude who won the World Championship did it with stolen rps. I'm sure the people he beat are gonna want to stay if he's not blackballed forever.