Humanity has spread out into a massive sprawling empire throughout the galaxy. The edges of the sprawl remain poorly guarded and sparsely settled after all humanity throughout a thousand stars has always been alone save for their own creations which once waged war against them. This is no longer true now an unknown force has begun to attack sector 63 and other sectors and it is up to poorly supplied and desperate sailors to hold them back.


You are the Admiral of the naval fleet of sector 63 one of nearly a 100 rimward sectors on the edge of settled human space. The war has finally turned in humanity's favor the once unending horde of bird ships, who you now know are called the Argono have finally ebbed away. Your industry soars and the first of the friendly fleets have begun to probe from Mid Rim sector 63 in your own sector to hopefully soon relieve you.

You're currently on patrol facing off against a small fleet of enemy ships made up of 4 battleships, 2 battlescruisers and 12 Heavy cruisers facing off against your veteran picket line of corvettes, destroyers, and several light cruisers along with your freshly converted semi guided missile cruiser. The enemies' lasers dance around the picket line as the push forward even as your missile cruiser comes to a stop and turns to give the enemy their broadside. There's several large flashes as all 12 of its missiles fire and burn fast toward the enemy capital ships. There is some swearing over comms as the missiles zip past the picket line and your strike craft but the pilots and captains are too busy dodging incoming fire as they loose their own torpedo strikes to give too much complaint.

Could I get a 1d100 best of three please

Past Threads:https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=BrinkQM

>be you
>be at the edge of the world
>your people are finished
>the last great city is a sinking husk behind you
>the Old King is dead, choked on his own prophecies
>the crown is in your pack, heavy with failure
>ahead lies only the Black Sands, a sea of ash under a dying sun
>the scrolls say nothing lives there
>the scrolls were wrong
>something is moving in the ash, and it has seen you
>the survivors at your back are silent, waiting
>choose

"JESUS FUCK." A bit of spit leaves the girl's mouth with the utterance of the expletive. The thin blonde man shoots an annoyed look at his coworker as he leans on his broom, watching her wipe the spit from her chin.

"Hey, management said we couldn't curse. Get that side for me." The brunette gives him an indifferent glance, grabs a dustpan, and starts sweeping in various things: rose petals, scrapped, <span class="mu-s">badly framed photos</span>, a dust of cocaine that had slipped from some celebrity's torn pocket. She scoffs at the discovery of a used condom leaking all over the concrete.

"Just saying. You'd think that at a big event like this, people would be a bit more dignified." She turns to look at the big black block letters that burned boldly on the arena sign.

<span class="mu-s">MILLER V HAWKE</span>
<span class="mu-s">FATHER V SON</span>
<span class="mu-s">TONIGHT</span>

(1/5)

>AI Overview

>Community theater quotes capture the passion, humor, and unique challenges of local stagecraft, focusing on shared human experience, the magic of collaboration, and the joy of live performance, with lines like "The play was a great success, but the audience was a disaster" (often attributed to Oscar Wilde) or "Love the art in yourself, not yourself in the art" (Julie Theobald) highlighting the dedication and quirks of the scene.

You love these 85IQ simps. You're the new director for the local catlic theater. Ever since you were a kid, I mean, you're still a kid because where you are, you've got to be 65 to be not a kid. But anyways, ever since you were a kid, you've participated in all the theater stuffs every season without fail. Mostly at your same local theater, but also the summer camps and your college degree, and now it's finally happened, you've been chosen to be the new director.

Who even are you?
>Garry Hermano
>Cunty McCuntface
>Sophy Artho
>Steven Johnguy
>Jeff Joo

You are GEROME. You have been jailed pending trial on the charge of the RAPEMURDER of multiple infant babies. You are in the LONGHOUSE PENITENTIARY. You want to escape.

What do you do?

What are your daily objectives?

Welcome Back! Due to some new job shenanigans this is a bit late but I hope you guys enjoy the new cover art for this thread. Last time we played; Mark had accepted a night shift working the guard detail for Bruce Wayne, suspected target of Kal. C. Late and Anarky...

Previous threads: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Gotham%20City%20Beat%20Cop%20Quest

======

"Let's put Bunko and Chen in the car by the road. No offense to 'em but Bunko's a little lazy and if he can take a shortcut patrolling he will."

Hawthorne chuckles dryly with a nod.

"Looks like you already got the next lesson taken care of. It's important to know your strengths and weaknesses but it's better to know your fellow officer's. Because when shit really hits it, it helps to know what to expect."

"Like with you?"

"Right. You know to be there to help me pull the boot out of their ass when I'm done with em." He chuckles with a wry grin that could be taken as cocky. But the glint in his eye lets you know it's well earned.

A conflict of muffled voices at the front draws your attention and just as fast as he grinned, the smile is gone and his jaw is set as he marches stiffly to the front. You watch him freeze in the door and a vein begins to creep up his neck.

"Bunko." He says in a seething whisper. "The man said no shoes..."

=====

The meeting between you all is short. Hawthorne makes his position clear, outdoor patrol goes to Banks and his partner while Bunko and Chen handle the main road. There's hardly any time for small talk as the butler, Mr. Pennyworth, is less than subtle in his desire for their to be as few people in the manor as possible. Hawthorne sets the channel for your radio checks and sets them for the top of every hour. Everyone nods in quiet agreement and you break for your patrol routes until Banks catches you by the arm for a quick moment.

"Hey D, just wanted to ask you about Kimble real quick. I worked under him and everything but we aren't like... tight or anything. But I know he feels kinda shitty because he gave me a hard time over the undercover stuff and he didn't know about-"

You cut off his rambling.

"On the clock, Banks. Whaddya need from Kimble?"

"I just wanted to invite him camping. Let him know it's water under the bridge, y'know?"

"Sure thing man, I can let him know. I'm sure he'd be interested, military dudes love camping right?"

Banks shrugs but lets out a relieved chuckle.

"Guess we'll find out. Have a good shift, D."

"You too, Banks. Be safe."

You watch him head out with Costas but you can't help but notice Costas' expression as he glances at you over his shoulder. Eerily reminiscent of the first glance you got from Rogers at the gym. His eyes flick over your shoulder and he quickly turns away, you glance yourself and see a stern faced Hawthorne.

A Tale From The World Of Frostpunk

The year is 1909, and the Great Frost hangs over the heads of every living man, woman and child. In the previous decade, global temperatures dropped to an unsustainable point, and the geopolitical landscape of Earth was changed forever. Mass refugee crises. Starvation. Hypothermia and frostbite. War. Nobody survived unscathed, and billions perished in the chaos.

Many of those that survived huddled around grand Generators, built by hundreds of engineers, acting as mechanical monuments to warmth and survival. Others sought out bold new technological developments, endlessly-running trains, subterranean colonies and grand zeppelins flying above the clouds. But for the majority, there were the Generators.

You never knew the world before, having been one of the “Frostborn” — those that felt their first breath of air in this icy world. Your parents were British refugees, fleeing north from Newcastle with thousands of others. Things were very hard growing up, and you feel strange absences in your memory, repressed parts of your youth locked away by your developing brain. Mum and Dad always told you that the less was said about the White Years, the better. That was the worst time, you’ve gathered.

Since then, many cities have fallen, crushed beneath instability, lack of resources or sickness. Others have developed into busy, industrious centres that now begin to hesitantly chart out the Frostlands beyond just the immediate scope of their perimeter. Your own city, Beacon, is one of the latter.

The world has forgotten what memes really are.
Mike 1 is an independent researcher who has studied the occult science and magick of memes, working alongside the creators of memetic engineering and now they need to take the chance of the meme reset trend to expose the truth.

For months, they have been working alone, trying to untangle the threads of the history of memetics and developing a new evolutionary taxonomy to explain all aspects of reality. But now they’ve come back online to launch the Meme Reset Lobby on all social media platforms, an experiment, a fake satire ironic ARG trying to lead people down the clues to fit the pieces of the puzzle together. Memetics couldn't develop as a science because governments and corporations studied it in the shadows.
Everyone has now forgotten that a meme is a unit of cultural evolution, akin to the gene in nature.
But it’s not too late to change the course. This is where you come in.

The Meme Reset Lobby exists, and its mission is clear: break free from the matrix of culture, the web of cultural information that is now overrun by misinformation and manipulation.
It’s time to wake people up and understand the real power of memes. They are not just jokes or viral videos, they are cultural replicators, physical, informational or mental units that shape society across environments, matrixes, and mindscapes.

Mike One has already laid the groundwork. The content is out there, scattered across platforms, explaining everything.
You can make a difference by posting a meme you want to live and telling others to tell everyone that a meme is a unit of cultural evolution on January 1 the reset can really happen with memetics. All memes can be saved like all animals, old characters can be brought back like the dinosaurs.
Start sharing what you know.
Use the memes already built and add your own twist. Investigate with others.

Tell the world about what memes really are...they are not just jokes.

Post your creations on TikTok, YouTube, Reddit, Instagram, wherever you can. The more memes we spread, the more we wake people up.

If you haven't already, visit the Meme Reset Lobby.

Remember, the Matrix can be hijacked only by understanding how replicators and evolution work.
They shape our reality more than you can imagine.

Mike One has given everything they have for this mission. Now, it’s your turn to join.

Start posting, start creating, and start spreading the truth.
It’s time for the #greatmemereset #2026

So while searching for stuff to delete for more storage I found this picture on my phone and idk how it got there
All I know is that there's some text hiding and can't find out what it says
Ive kinda given up on finding it out sp im kinda hoping if anyone here can do it for me
I'd be really happy fr