No, the biggest flaw of that game was the camera perspective, the wretched voice acting, the terrible combat system, the mediocre plotline, the bad writing, and the fact that it was a completely different genre. The presence of killing was not the debilitating flaw of that game.

I LIVE! Flesh and blood and bone! I am alive! Hahahahaha! I swore I would scratch and crawl my way back into the world of the living and I have done it! I'a Dagon! I'a Hydra!

But, seriously. The upcoming release of Quest for Glory II: Trial by Fire VGA should revitalize this forum. Let's bring it back to life. The storm has already begun, now we only need for lightning to strike!

Quest for Glory II style. Even though QFG4 is my favorite of the series, I loathe it's combat engine with a fierce and burning passion.

...The Countdown has begun, ladies and gentlemen, although I have not discerned the number. Official thread here. http://www.agdiforums.com/forum/viewforum.php?f=18&sid=25e4e6c8256f6e34cbbc085fb74e3498

In addition, the AGDs are requesting assistance with bandwidth, detailed in their newest post on their main site.

It is a sad tale, our Great Fall. Once, there were many. Like the Roman Empire, we were once mighty, now weak and broken, fragile, our power reduced to a shadow of what it once was. Much that once was is lost, for none now live who remember.

After the forging of the Fifth Game, many disciples attempted to take up it's banner. But few had reckoned with the reckoning they were undertaking, and long before the goal, many fell by the wayside. Only a few had the strength and the will to push on, as one by one, they all perished.

There are a few of us left. The Anonymous Developers, the Infamous Adventurers, and the Six Heroes still linger on. Perhaps there are others, concealed beyond the great mists. But I have not seen them.

Lord Surez continued making pointers on the map of suspected locations of the tribe's war camp. It was long, tedious, and for the most part, pointless - most of these places had already been searched by Falworthian scouts. "We believe the Crocmen are using the river and streams to move through Falworth unnoticed - most of their camps have been near water. This would allow them to slip past our watch towers and guard posts unnoticed. Ultimately, the King's warriors and his bannermen could defeat the Crocmen and Goblins in a pitched battle, but they seem determined not to give us one, instead letting us spread out forces thin trying to protect our people. We don't have the manpower to simultaneously scour the lands and defend our homes."

Surez shifted his weight slightly, uncomfortable on his feet. "The King sent word to a company of Hesparian Mercenaries, promising them wealth in exchange for their aid. General Claudius is on his way, but we believe it will be several weeks before he arrives, possibly long enough for the Crocmen to complete their passage over the strait. If we are able to wipe out the Saushai tribe, we can prepare a proper reception for the rest of the Crocmen fleet..."

Surez seemed to continue, but the sound of splintering wood and cracking stone interrupted him as a small boulder smashed into the inn, crumpling the wall opposite them and flying into the bar, shattering dozens of bottles of wine and cracking kegs of beer. The high-pitched shrieks of Goblin warriors and the Guttural battle-cries of Crocmen streamed from the forest outside.

Surez picked himself up and began barking orders, drawing his sword as he did so. "Stand to arms! A raiding party! Deploy for battle!"

The men-at-arms and militia arrayed outside gathered their weapons as dozens upon dozens of Crocmen and their diminutive allies streamed out of the woods like a green-tinged storm, waving their spears and short blades, and smashed upon the mail-clad forces of Falworth. Battle was joined.

The Golden Rose Inn was once a peaceful and pleasant rest point along the great road that crossed the nations of Gaul and Falworth. But now, with the great war raging, it had turned into something far different.

The Banners of the Kingdom of Falworth, red stripes bordering broad orange. A few bare hundreds of soldiers surrounded the inn, cooking what little food they had managed to hunt or scavenge on a feeble fire. In the handful of months since the invasion began, Many of Falworth's ancient castles and fortresses had been thrown down or captured, and desperate commanders had been forced to use inns and homes to command from.

Inside the tavern wasn't much more pleasant. A handful of knights, mercenaries, and adventurers surrounded a few tables. The leader of the soldiers, Lord Ferdinand Surez, sat on the far side in a corner, three mail-clad knights around him, poring over a map. An atmosphere of fear and desperation hung over the common room.

Lord Surez stood up and stepped out into the center of the room, his presence drawing the eye of the mercenaries and adventurers in the room. "I'll be quick. Time is precious. We're in a desperate situation. The Crocmen have outmaneuvered us in every way. Crocmen raiding parties are running all over Falworth, and by the time we've even located one of their war camps, they're already moved on and sacked another town. They're always two steps ahead of us. That's why you're here."

He pulled his map over and slapped it down on a table. It was a view of Falworth, with a series of red pins jammed all over it. He tapped one, near the shoreline. "This is the town of Dharmad. Three days ago, the Saushai tribe of Crocmen raided it and burned most of the town to the ground. The Saushai have been the most prolific and deadly of the various tribes raiding our nation, and we believe that their Chieftain is leading them."

Lord Surez ran his fingers over the map. "The Saushai tribe's fleet landed along the Strait of Berane, and we believe their main War Camp is still somewhere in that area, protecting their leader. So. We want you to locate the Saushai War Camp, and, if possible, assassinate their King. We believe that if we are able to destroy the Saushai tribe, it will break the back of this invasion."

Surez pulled a pair of pouches off his belt. "This, for finding them. And this, for killing their leader." He dropped the bags onto the map and undid the laces, revealing stacks upon stacks of gold coins. He laced them back up. "Any questions?"

At the rate this forum moves at, it may not be a problem, actually. You may still be able to get into this anyway.

Shouldn't be a problem.

Sure. The character looks fine to me. Welcome to City 17. It's safer here.

Guy, since we're doing a Forum-Based RP for now, computer issues won't be as much of a problem. In any case, if you have issues, I know of means to keep your character alive and active even if you're unable to post for several days. I do not anticipate this RP moving at any great pace anyway.

I'll give Guy a few days to decide and make his character. We'll start this on Wednesday, assuming I have no objections.

Sure. Welcome aboard. Nothing against Paladins, but I wanted to start a story from Square One rather than starting in the middle of the Hero's Journey.

Yeah, but it goes beyond typical QFG satire into outright parody.

Anyway, after some heated internal debate, I've decided I'm going to make a character too, mostly because this is, to put it lightly, silent as the grave.

Name: Aberon Ral-Shidar

Age: 21

Species: Human

Class: Fighter

Equipment: Shapeir-forged Scimitar, small steel buckler, boiled leather chestpiece, four Dinars and six centimes.

Personality: Aberon is outspoken, forthright, and eager for a fight. He hates to be still for very long, and has a strong desire to win fame and glory. He has a bit of an ego. If you catch him off guard, he'll often say strange things, in particular, referring to people as 'Effendi', or warning them about the dangers of the desert.

Appearance: Aberon keeps his hair trimmed extremely close, almost shaved, while keeping a grand moustache and goatee. His skin is dark, befitting an upbringing in Shapeir, and he is rather well-muscled. His bearing is tall and straight, almost military. He still wears the colors of the Shapeirian Guard, although he no longer possesses any of their armor or gear other than his sword.

History: Aberon, born in Shapeir had the ambition of becoming a great and noble warrior his entire life, and on his sixteenth birthday, joined the Shapeirian Guard. However, he soon began to chafe under their strict orders and the dullness of life, watching hero after hero enter the desert to do great deeds, while he stood by the gate with no other duty beyond passing on messages and warning them - futilely - of the dangers of the desert. Although he rose quickly through the ranks with his ability, quickly elevating from being a mere Gate Guard to patrolling, and often getting lost in, the labyrinthine alleyways of the city, he left the Guard four years after joining, and instead decided to become a Freelance Wariror, hoping his training with the Shapeirian Guard would allow him to compensate for the lack of any real training as an adventurer. Upon hearing of the great war breaking out in the Western Lands, he took the last of his money and joined a caravan heading to Gaul, whereupon he haded further west until reaching the Golden Rose Inn, where he hopes to gain information on the Goblin and Crocmen whereabouts, and possibly join a group of adventurers.

It's a cleverly disguised birthday thread.

And Avoozl arises. I'a, I'a! Ph'nlgui Mglw'nafh Avoozl Rl'yeh Wgah'nagl Fhtagn! In his house at R'lyeh, Dead Avoozl waits dreaming until the stars are right! That is not dead which can eternal lie, and with strange aeons, even death may die! The Necrophilicon speaks of it! When the stars become right, and Avoozl awakens from his ancient slumber to rise up from his rift to bring a glory to the land the likes of which has never been seen! I'a Dagon! I'a Hydra! I'a! I'a Avoozl! He rises to teach us a new way to revel and wreak a great glorious destruction! I'a!

Amon Tillado saw it in his dreams, and found the Necrophilicon buried in the sands of Shapeir! And now, Avoozl rises, and a great host rises with him! I'a! I'a! As his great disciple celebrates the anniversary of his birth, Avoozl will rise and rule the world! I'a! I'a!

Please do, Swift. I'm not the most reputable person around here, even with my recent conversion from being the incarnation of Chaos to a more orderly mindset.