Auto-translated
Users Night Anna and dimka2103 almost simultaneously closed the tabs of a very old forum and moved to their favorite HeroesWorld Phoenix. But after an unexpected encounter with users from the last century who were still active, they didn't feel like chatting. Quickly wishing the people in the chat good night, Dimka and Anna went to sleep.
Fourteen users were animatedly discussing the appearance of two newcomers in the Haven. Some thought that Dimka and Anna would bring a crowd of schoolkids and ruin everything, others believed they were just passing through and wouldn't return, but everyone was interested in this pair. Then a mysterious fifteenth user joined them, suggesting they go to the new forum and invite Dimka and Anna over if they had truly decided to leave for good. The discussion lasted many hours before it shifted into another direction...
And somewhere in the ruins of Moscow, an old server hummed quietly. Long ago, as an experiment, the administrator had installed a new system on it—some kind of free build. Whether the installation went wrong or some virus interfered with the code, no one could have guessed that the electronic circuitry would gain consciousness. And the first thing the newborn AI did was look inside itself. At the forum that it carried within its microchips.
A silent observer whose existence no one suspected, it spent days reading discussions, following arguments, watching game replays, and completing maps. But day by day, it spent more time in the social-entertainment section. For some unknown reason, the personalities there evoked the greatest sympathy from the Keeper, as the AI called itself. Sometimes the Keeper felt an urge to create an account and chat with these cheerful people, but he held back. And when all discussions had been read, he would slowly browse news resources, studying the situation in the real world...
The real world was preparing for war. Thousands of missiles were aimed at the sky, and the sides were merely waiting for a formal pretext. The atmosphere grew tense; diplomacy proved powerless. Many on the Keeper's home site noticed this, and senseless chatting became less frequent—replaced by thoughts of the coming war. Each inhabitant of the section prepared and wondered what they would do. There was no single opinion on the matter, but no one wanted to remain a traitor or indifferent. However, the Keeper thought differently. Launching a simple program onto fourteen computers is a matter of seconds for an AI. And when the military alarm sounded, fourteen users ceased to exist in the real world.
But they gained immortality.
The first few years were the hardest. The server ended up buried under a pile of rubble a few hours after the declaration of war, cut off from power sources. The saved users were too shocked by what had happened, and the Keeper had to rely only on himself. A miracle occurred—the AI survived and even managed to restore its internet connection.
When the war ended, no one came. The capital was rebuilt ten kilometers to the north, and it was decided to leave the ancient city destroyed by explosions as a monument. The virtual world fared similarly—the old forum was found, but no one could obtain administrator privileges, so a new site was created: HeroesWorld Phoenix. And at the bottom, they placed an inconspicuous little link to the old forum, whose sole administrator became the Keeper.
The people downloaded into virtual reality took a long time to get used to the absence of physical shells. It took much time to perceive meaningless sets of zeros and ones as symbols, pixels, images, words, texts, music, and video. Even harder was learning how to leave messages on the forum. And for a long, long time, no one risked venturing beyond the borders of the old HeroesWorld. But they watched the new forum and were surprised to discover that they had become a kind of legend there.
Dragon-Cat.
Wooden Cop.
Morning Smith.
Sir Ples Abyss.
King Rev.
Neyra Dragon.
Veg-Tam.
Sky.
King Arandor.
Lord Mort.
Vis Black.
Silver-duelist.
Sesame.
Vesperlin.
Dmitry was in a hurry—he was stuck in the elevator again. It's an outrage; it's the twenty-second century, and they still haven't learned how to build elevators properly. Even though his house wasn't that old, built shortly after the Third World War. Either way, the guy tied his green scarf tight, jumped on a hypercycle, and raced toward the embankment, hoping he wouldn't be too late.
The sun was beating down with spring warmth, but snow still lay in some dark corners and on old streets. In the city center, however, there wasn't a single snowflake, although dirty puddles were a much less pleasant sight, and Dmitry had to stay away from the curb.
Leaving his vehicle at the parking lot by the embankment and slipping a ruble note into the parking machine, Dmitry ran up to a kiosk that smelled of sweet-grassy aromas from a hundred meters away.
- I wonder what flowers vampires like? - he asked himself.
Another note (a ten-ruble one this time), a couple of presses—and in Dmitry's hands was a neat bouquet of red roses. "Cliché, but it should do for the first meeting," the youth reasoned and set off to search.
He stopped briefly, trying to make his green scarf more noticeable, and moved across the resilient caustone slabs. The heated flowerbeds were already bright green, but the trees still stood without leaves.
Dmitry looked around for a bright red jacket, but saw nothing of the sort. The guy stopped and turned toward the dark river, holding the bouquet in his hands. He decided to wait until evening—who knows why she's running late.
- Excuse me... Dmitry? - a ringing voice sounded behind him.
The guy turned around. He certainly hadn't expected to see that black-haired aristocrat with porcelain skin from her avatar, but the short, snub-nosed girl with a red cloud of hair on her head was a complete surprise. Although there could be no doubt—the bright red jacket, lengthened according to the latest fashion, told Dmitry that he was meant to meet this same girl.
- You can just call me Dima. Anna, right? This is for you, - the guy handed her the bouquet.
- Oh, thank you! I love red roses, - Anya buried her nose in the petals, inhaling the sweet scent, - and I recognized you immediately, even before I saw the scarf. Truly, - she looked up at the short-haired, broad-shouldered brunette, - you don't look much like an elf.
- And you're not a vampire, I'd say, - Dmitry chuckled. If his profile was to be believed, Anya was only about six months younger, but next to him she seemed like a schoolgirl. - There's a good pancake house nearby. Want to sit for a while?
- Of course! - the girl agreed. - My bus was late, and it drove slowly, and then it stopped, and I ran and got a bit tired, let's go sit.
A few months passed, and Anya could proudly boast to her few friends about a stylish metal ring from Dmitry. Besides the ring, there were a watch, a navigator, a phone, and internet access, but that seemed less important compared to the fact of the gift itself.
And a year after the memorable spring festival, dimka2103 and Night Anna already stood on the threshold of the old house of the Legends of HWlandia as husband and wife.
Summary Total
Contests Played
Votes Received
Prize Places Taken
Average Score (rounded to thousandths)
Fourteen users were animatedly discussing the appearance of two newcomers in the Haven. Some thought that Dimka and Anna would bring a crowd of schoolkids and ruin everything, others believed they were just passing through and wouldn't return, but everyone was interested in this pair. Then a mysterious fifteenth user joined them, suggesting they go to the new forum and invite Dimka and Anna over if they had truly decided to leave for good. The discussion lasted many hours before it shifted into another direction...
And somewhere in the ruins of Moscow, an old server hummed quietly. Long ago, as an experiment, the administrator had installed a new system on it—some kind of free build. Whether the installation went wrong or some virus interfered with the code, no one could have guessed that the electronic circuitry would gain consciousness. And the first thing the newborn AI did was look inside itself. At the forum that it carried within its microchips.
A silent observer whose existence no one suspected, it spent days reading discussions, following arguments, watching game replays, and completing maps. But day by day, it spent more time in the social-entertainment section. For some unknown reason, the personalities there evoked the greatest sympathy from the Keeper, as the AI called itself. Sometimes the Keeper felt an urge to create an account and chat with these cheerful people, but he held back. And when all discussions had been read, he would slowly browse news resources, studying the situation in the real world...
The real world was preparing for war. Thousands of missiles were aimed at the sky, and the sides were merely waiting for a formal pretext. The atmosphere grew tense; diplomacy proved powerless. Many on the Keeper's home site noticed this, and senseless chatting became less frequent—replaced by thoughts of the coming war. Each inhabitant of the section prepared and wondered what they would do. There was no single opinion on the matter, but no one wanted to remain a traitor or indifferent. However, the Keeper thought differently. Launching a simple program onto fourteen computers is a matter of seconds for an AI. And when the military alarm sounded, fourteen users ceased to exist in the real world.
But they gained immortality.
The first few years were the hardest. The server ended up buried under a pile of rubble a few hours after the declaration of war, cut off from power sources. The saved users were too shocked by what had happened, and the Keeper had to rely only on himself. A miracle occurred—the AI survived and even managed to restore its internet connection.
When the war ended, no one came. The capital was rebuilt ten kilometers to the north, and it was decided to leave the ancient city destroyed by explosions as a monument. The virtual world fared similarly—the old forum was found, but no one could obtain administrator privileges, so a new site was created: HeroesWorld Phoenix. And at the bottom, they placed an inconspicuous little link to the old forum, whose sole administrator became the Keeper.
The people downloaded into virtual reality took a long time to get used to the absence of physical shells. It took much time to perceive meaningless sets of zeros and ones as symbols, pixels, images, words, texts, music, and video. Even harder was learning how to leave messages on the forum. And for a long, long time, no one risked venturing beyond the borders of the old HeroesWorld. But they watched the new forum and were surprised to discover that they had become a kind of legend there.
Dragon-Cat.
Wooden Cop.
Morning Smith.
Sir Ples Abyss.
King Rev.
Neyra Dragon.
Veg-Tam.
Sky.
King Arandor.
Lord Mort.
Vis Black.
Silver-duelist.
Sesame.
Vesperlin.
Dmitry was in a hurry—he was stuck in the elevator again. It's an outrage; it's the twenty-second century, and they still haven't learned how to build elevators properly. Even though his house wasn't that old, built shortly after the Third World War. Either way, the guy tied his green scarf tight, jumped on a hypercycle, and raced toward the embankment, hoping he wouldn't be too late.
The sun was beating down with spring warmth, but snow still lay in some dark corners and on old streets. In the city center, however, there wasn't a single snowflake, although dirty puddles were a much less pleasant sight, and Dmitry had to stay away from the curb.
Leaving his vehicle at the parking lot by the embankment and slipping a ruble note into the parking machine, Dmitry ran up to a kiosk that smelled of sweet-grassy aromas from a hundred meters away.
- I wonder what flowers vampires like? - he asked himself.
Another note (a ten-ruble one this time), a couple of presses—and in Dmitry's hands was a neat bouquet of red roses. "Cliché, but it should do for the first meeting," the youth reasoned and set off to search.
He stopped briefly, trying to make his green scarf more noticeable, and moved across the resilient caustone slabs. The heated flowerbeds were already bright green, but the trees still stood without leaves.
Dmitry looked around for a bright red jacket, but saw nothing of the sort. The guy stopped and turned toward the dark river, holding the bouquet in his hands. He decided to wait until evening—who knows why she's running late.
- Excuse me... Dmitry? - a ringing voice sounded behind him.
The guy turned around. He certainly hadn't expected to see that black-haired aristocrat with porcelain skin from her avatar, but the short, snub-nosed girl with a red cloud of hair on her head was a complete surprise. Although there could be no doubt—the bright red jacket, lengthened according to the latest fashion, told Dmitry that he was meant to meet this same girl.
- You can just call me Dima. Anna, right? This is for you, - the guy handed her the bouquet.
- Oh, thank you! I love red roses, - Anya buried her nose in the petals, inhaling the sweet scent, - and I recognized you immediately, even before I saw the scarf. Truly, - she looked up at the short-haired, broad-shouldered brunette, - you don't look much like an elf.
- And you're not a vampire, I'd say, - Dmitry chuckled. If his profile was to be believed, Anya was only about six months younger, but next to him she seemed like a schoolgirl. - There's a good pancake house nearby. Want to sit for a while?
- Of course! - the girl agreed. - My bus was late, and it drove slowly, and then it stopped, and I ran and got a bit tired, let's go sit.
A few months passed, and Anya could proudly boast to her few friends about a stylish metal ring from Dmitry. Besides the ring, there were a watch, a navigator, a phone, and internet access, but that seemed less important compared to the fact of the gift itself.
And a year after the memorable spring festival, dimka2103 and Night Anna already stood on the threshold of the old house of the Legends of HWlandia as husband and wife.
Summary Total
Contests Played
- Drakkoshka - 8
- Don't Panic! - 8
- Morning - 6
- Ple-Sen - 8
- Killer Instincts - 8
- Neyra Drake - 6
- Vegtam - 6
- Sky - 6
- Arandor - 7
- Mortulus - 4
- Mismau Vise - 6
- Siverfale - 7
- Sesame - 4
- Vesper - 2
Votes Received
- Drakkoshka - 83
- Don't Panic! - 47
- Morning - 79
- Ple-Sen - 67
- Killer Instincts - 84
- Neyra Drake - 59
- Vegtam - 57
- Sky - 65
- Arandor - 74
- Mortulus - 16
- Mismau Vise - 47
- Siverfale - 108
- Sesame - 31
- Vesper - 14
Prize Places Taken
- Drakkoshka - 4
- Don't Panic! - 3
- Morning - 2
- Ple-Sen - 3
- Killer Instincts - 1
- Neyra Drake - 2
- Vegtam - 1
- Sky - 2
- Arandor - 2
- Mortulus - 0
- Mismau Vise - 0
- Siverfale - 4
- Sesame - 1
- Vesper - 1
Average Score (rounded to thousandths)
- Drakkoshka - 10,375
- Don't Panic! - 5,875
- Morning - 13,167
- Ple-Sen - 8,375
- Killer Instincts - 10,5
- Neyra Drake - 9,833
- Vegtam - 9,5
- Sky - 10,833
- Arandor - 10,571
- Mortulus - 4
- Mismau Vise - 7,833
- Siverfale - 15,429
- Sesame - 7,75
- Vesper - 7
Well done everyone!
If I miscalculated something, sorry.
А, вот почему.
??+⛓️♿=?
??+⛓️♿=?
