http://web.archive.org/web/*/http://tfw2005.com most of the links are broken, but its still fun to see. check out the waybackmachine
Yeah. I remember sending Tony those VHS tapes with CR episodes. When I was on charge of the fanart forum (it was called the Makotron Chambers), I made it so popular that Don, Guido and Matere came to post their fanarts and got hired by Hasbro and Dreamwave right after.
I do! I just think a higher fee would help protect us. Protect us from the relentless plague of ass burgers that is at this very moment eating away at our foundation, threatening to drown us in a roiling sea of cayote aids.
Squaids is a real thing. I'm just sayin' And I thought it went down like this: "I am Kickback, and I'm here to ask you a question: Is a man not entitled to the sweat of his brow? No, says the man from Seibertron. It belongs to the poor. No, says the man from the Allspark. It belongs to God. No, says the man in TFormers. It belongs to everyone. I rejected those answers. Instead, I chose something different. I chose the impossible. I chose... TFW2005. A forum where the artist would not fear the censor. Where the scientist would not be bound by petty morality. Where the great would not be constrained by the small. And with the sweat of your brow, TFW2005 can become your forum as well." That's what I heard, anyway.
The Old Mods were, the Old Mods are, and the Old Mods shall be once more. On the cracked, dead ediface of an empty internet, with their unfathomable power they carved from it a citadel to their eldritch desires, with vast boards stretching beyond our reckoning, cyclopean threads lancing towards high page numbers, twisted coding from strange aeons of experimentation and unspeakable languages best left forgotten. This was their monument, their throne, their TFW2005. They ruled over it for time immemorable and with a power wonderous in its depth and foul in its depravity, with motivations beyond that of a fan, as a fan's is beyond that of an insect. However, even this was not eternal: The franchise moves outside even their influence, and long, long before this date, an ancient span as to a joindate as a blink, they left. Left for the dark, shadowed corners of the boards, the fearful corners of fan's vision, the strange, warped places, unseeable to most and maddening to the rest. We that remained forgot them, lived our lives and posted our threads, thinking ourselves masters of the boards. But the Old Mods live still, not dead but waiting, not dreaming but planning, until the day when the franchise is aligned once more. Where WE post NOW, THEY posted THEN! Where WE post NOW, THEY shall post ONCE MORE! When the toys are right, they shall return, and exact a terrible vengeance as they take back what they made. And in their return shall herald their nightmare legions, faceless, shapeless horrors of inconceivable number and form. Sharp tongued and gibbering blasphemies, spawned of vitriol and ancient atrocities. Hail! Hail to Baccala, dark mod of the woods with ten thousands posts! To Kick-back, high priest and dark dreamer! And to Smegs, the crawling chaos, their soul and messenger! They shall return, for they never truly left! THEY SHALL RETURN!
