Quizlibet's Story

THE STORY OF HEALTHYUNCLE

• As told by  Quizlibet in verse form, edited by  theschlozmeister

Gather around children, and Quiz will tell you a tale,

of a brave, handsome, clever mod and a bitter, jealous goblin.

A long time ago, in the mists of beta,

There was a beautiful server, filled with creativity and beauty.

The oldest of all servers, this marvelous land was a haven for everyone who wished to create.

Of course, as with all such places, the more beautiful it became, the more it inspired jealousy;

many angry trolls came to hurt the server,

but they were held back by a stalwart force of justice

a hand-picked cadre of the server's best and brightest, who upheld the ideals of the server so

that the admins could maintain the world for all its people: the mods!

One player, new to minecraft, saw these mods and dreamed of greatness,

so he worked hard and played nicely, and one day, he got a tell from an admin.

For weeks and weeks he revelled in his position, but all was not well,

you see, though no one knew it at the time, the server was sick

There was a tumor, one who had been there longer even than the young mod

It was genial, but emotionally stunted: polite to the staff, but vitriolic to all others,

It's name... was HEALTHYUNCLE

Just as the young mod had worked for recognition, so did the jealous healthyuncle ply the staff

with favors and gifts, shmoozing without shame,

The mod grew fearful of uncle, but said nothing

Then, he heard that the mighty admins had taken note

They spoke of the skill of the uncle, how his buildings pleased the eye, and how his favours had

been sizeable.

The mod was wary, and took to staff, telling his comrades that the uncle could not be trusted,

that he was not ready for the title, but the staff rebuffed him, telling the mod he was jealous.

The mod eventually grew quiet, and uncle became a mod

At first, the uncle performed acceptably,

upheld the rules, punished transgressions,

but then, something snapped within him. His tiny black heart shriveled in his chest.

He banned without reservation, and scoffed at new players

Soon, he began to covet more power

After all, should not he be rewarded for all his bans?

Why yes... he should.

He should be an idol... a god...

... an ADMIN.

But the staff had begun to see behind the uncles mask,

suddenly, the young mods warnings didn't seem so farfetched

Then came the tipping point: The mighty riot would not grant the uncle an adminship,

The uncle was enraged,

He raged against the server, the mods, the admins

Suddenly the faintest spark of an idea flared to life in the dusty recesses of his mind,

he didn't need to be adminned,

in fact, he could go further,

after all, there is a pinnacle to power

beyond the donors, beyond the mods, beyond even the admins...

There is... Riot!

but there was a problem...

In order to have the power he sought, he would have to leave freedonia and build a new world,

and the uncle was not clever enough to make a world as nice as freedonia,

So he resolved to commit a wicked, wicked sin

on a rainy night, like this one,

he stole... ideas

he snuck to every corner of the server, and grabbed every idea, every clever notion,

and shamelessy took them to a deep, dark pit of webspace

there, he clumsily banged them together, and squealed with joy,

for he had wrought, from his thievery, a twisted, misshapen shadow of freedonia,

a lawless, twisted landscape devoid of cleverness of originality,

the howling desolate wasts of BHSMineCraft

The other mods were curious of the server, and came to see what the uncle had done,

But the uncle was terrified,

if the mods came, then the poor, naive players he had entrapped,

would learn of his crimes

so he quickly gathered to him a crew of thugs and sycophants

an ordered them to chase off any freedonians on sight

You see, BHSMinecraft has good players,

Those who do not know, or do not care, about the crimes of the uncle,

but it is a kingdom of lies, presided over by an oaf in a kings clothes,

since then, uncle has kept to himself, mostly

sometimes sending marauders to freedonian shores, sometimes stealing more ideas,

but sometimes, on moonless nights

when you feel the hair on the back of your neck stick up,

if you turn around quickly enough, you might see, out of the corner of your eye,

a blue nameplate that should never have been.

-Quizlibet