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This is a companion fluff story for the /tg/ homebrew game Server Crash.

Hey, buddy. Sounds like you got some disposable income. You should check out the mod-shop in, ah, hell, I'll just say it straight up.

eBaum's. Yeah, yeah, I know what you're thinkin'. Why would I ever go to that ripoff shack, its hive of scum an internet lowlife. But you know what? They actually make a decent copy-pasta. What's left of them, that is. That fort? A lot of people didn't make it early on. But the people who did? Woo, they don't mess around. But underneath all that? They still need people. Things. Each other. When you need something useful, you look around eBaum's.

They do good work. Nobody rips apart and adds something neat on top of it like they do. You get used to the watermark after a while. But the modders they still have? That's what you're lookin' for. Last time I was in, I saw a soft-scripted learning bot linked to a tripod MG. Fancy is what I called it. Reasonable, automated, and small enough to mount on a lightcycle is what they called it. You might wanna check it out.

I can get you set up, if you like. Fort's pretty locked down, though. Firewalled Hyperlink access only. What dya say, pal?