Busters

The **Busters** are a mysterious group of Longones that sought to start a new life after being banished from Scramblewire. The Busters inhabit Outer Haven. They are known to have a strange disliking for the Boudomes.

## Origins and October 6th

*"The Busters originated from Scramblewire, a planetary body in the Wospian galaxy. An incident known as the 'Bust Incident', occuring on October 6th, drove them to seek new leadership. Prior to the Bust Incident, Scramblewire had undergone many rough patches involving the Ophill's moderation. Ophills have been rude and downright nasty to its own population on occasion. But on the fateful day of October 6th, the last remaining Boudome went too far. A Boudome named Domebou said the legendary words "watch me bust", which caused a world war and the collapse of civilization within Scramblewire. Subs. Ohpills. Boudomes. Longones. Long ago, the four ranks lived in harmony. Then everything changed when the Ohpills Rank attacked."*

Back in the day, the Longones were the most involved by far. They wandered the streets of General, waving and talking with all who came by. They formed communities together, bonded, gamed, and had a good time. This all changed when the Boudomes came. At this point, the population of the Boudomes had dropped to one. This was due to them containing a rapidly spreading virus: The Antimaturity Virus. It spread around their city like wildfire. The Ohpills took notice first, quickly banishing all of those who were found with it. The virus seemed to have no effect on the other ranks, somehow.

The most powerful Ohpills, the Mods, thought they had killed of the entire Boudome population. One day, they made a discovery that scarred them permanently. There was one Boudome remaining. His name was Domebou, and he had just gotten back from swimming in pool of Antimaturity. He was movin' and groovin'. The words 'dance' were written on his soul, and he wanted to announce it to the world. "Watch me bust-" The Mods had shot him down. He barely had time to bust his favorite move. The Eradication Ray was fired, erasing his dance from his memory. From his heart. However, Domebou was not having it. He wanted to dance like a squealing pig hanging from that endless black cord, high on methamphetamine. He attempted to bust another move, but the Mods were too fast. In order to prevent the hundreds other Domebous that the Mods were hallucinating, they added a slowmode.

## The Slowmode

*"The slowmode is a dastardly tool, used only in times of emergency. Every time someone speaks, they are forced to wait out a timer before they can speak again-before they can even move again. Whether it be 15 seconds. 30. One minute. Five minutes. Hell, six hours. People are forced to wait it out, frozen in place. Those subjected to it call it torture. Those who use it call it necessary. You see, slowmodes are no natural thing. They are tiny machines that are forced into your brain at the ripe age of literal fetus. They slow down your all movements, making you lose muscle control. Perhaps when put in the right hands it can be used for good. But the wrong hands..."*

There was something slightly off about everyone for minutes. "Heeeeeeeyyyy..." Someone had said. It was horrifyingly distorted. Had life been slowed down? It couldn't have been. Domebou continued talking. "Why is th-" He had tripped on a newly formed pothole. He hit the ground like wet towel being thrown at a wall. *Plop!* He desperately tried to move his limbs, but nothing worked. He attempted to cry out, but the words hung at the tip of his tongue, showing bright red in the misty air. He finally was able to lift himself off the ground. It felt to him as if he had been pinned down to the ground, all movements to no avail, for exactly one minute.

More and more people started asking about the slowmode. "Why am I behind the world?" A dragon asked. "How will I commit arson with this shit?" An uprooted tree squealed. The Mods attempted to console the crowd. "Calm down, we just want you to leave the city and come back later," Comfy said. "If you're wondering about the slowmode, *stop*," Cushion stated.

A wild isopod walked up to four furry poles sticking up from the ground. *These are some odd poles...* A sign coloured black and yellow caught its attention. It stated: Don't look at me in that tone. Shut the fuck up. A bright white Eradication Ray suddenly fired from one of the nearby buildings, searing deep within the isopod's head. The tone of its gaze was deleted.

## Eradication Rays and Deletion

*"Eradication Rays are so, so simple. They're used surprisingly often around Scramblewire, no matter the city you reside in. But on October 6th, the city of General was alive with lasers. The Ophills had enough of everyone, and were too blind to see that they were destroying Scramblewire from the inside out. Naturally, with General being the most populated city, a large chunk of people began to leave Scramblewire as a whole. I myself have been hit by one. I only realized once I had been asked about it much later... those rays completely and fully wipe your memory of what you were doing at the time. They even wipe your words right out of reality, and quickly erase whatever you said from the minds of those around you. Evil."*
When people ask, you should not answer them. Please leave the city. The Antimaturity could be seeping into your brains right now!" Cushion remarked. "Are you EVICTING US?" An endlessly twirling slug interrogated, its gaze sharp as a knife. "But... Our homes..." A Non-bored ape cried. "Are you telling the MODS how to MOD? That's literally our jobs! DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND?!" Cushion squawked as twenty tropical birds exited their stomach.

A flightless bee with twenty-seven wings teleported to the nearest moderator. "Are you going to add a thirty-minute slowmode if we keep asking?" it said to Cushion. "I really, really don't want a thirty-minute slowmode..." "I'm sick of your presence. Goodbye," Cushion said, throwing two BFG-9000s in the general direction of the bee. "You've been warned enough. You'll be permanently banned from entering your homes if this continues. Leave now and you'll keep your house," one Mod said. **"Flightless bee, that isopod, and non-bored ape. You've pushed me to leave the city that I've been a part of for eight minutes,"** Poopie said, moments before vanishing.

Domebou appeared once again, hacking his way through the slowmode. He risked talking. "Am I legally allowed to devour the local sand?" Onlookers watched in awe as he weaved his way around the small craters that were actively forming in their beloved ground. "Y'all, this isn't a government. If people cause problems, we deal with them," governmental figure Cushion said. "We aren't a DAYCARE. You should be able to take care of YOURSELVES," Cushion's microphone *beeped*. "Some of you are terminally offline and YOU KNOW YOU ARE," They continued.
"Bud, you're making a ton of assumptions about us... We just want to live in our homes as usual, socialize, without a slowmode," A rock-shaped rock said, drifting slowly on a cloud. "You are dangerously close to getting sued. You're not entitled to be here, and if you cause problems like a misbehaving whippersnapper, you will be banned. It's that straightforward. Simple!" A speaker sounded in the distance. "I don't know what you're attempting to do by staying here."

## Silence, Erasure, and Blame

*"The Ohpills decided to go further than a slowmode. Go further than eradication rays. They involved only only the both of those, but a new tactic: Silence. We were forced into silence, and we had no way to speak whatsoever. Eradication rays were fired all across the city, and the slowmode kept getting slower. We simply had no way to speak. You could say a simple word, like 'hi', and then be pinned down to the ground, frozen in place for 30 minutes, forced to watch your words be eradicated from existance, shortly followed by your memories. And then, new people would swing by General City, hoping to say hi to their friends. They would either be told that nothing is wrong, despite the crumbling walls and potholes all around, or they would be shot at by eradication rays. The events would be blamed on everyone who was there when it began, or when Domebou busted. I felt as if I were in a dream, deep within the slow process of turning into a nightmare."*

"This whole mess was started by that isopod. Like, why? You made it all unfold a while ago by attempting to show us flaws in the system. I understand that it could have been helpful in ONE or TWO ways, but it was just you all blabbering, blubbering, prattling, and whining! Don't be upset that you friends are being removed. You shouldn't be surprised!" Comfy declared through a megaphone. "I just got back from work. What did I miss?" A slowly approaching grain of rice questioned. "You didn't miss anything! It's best not to worry about things of the past." Comfy continued. An Eradication Ray fired in the distance. "You're all being so obnoxious about it! You know what? How about we just demolish the whole city then? That'll solve everything!" Comfy announced, all while maintaining sharp eye contact with goose made of paper mache. The crowd stepped back, concerned with the fate of their homes.

"I don't see how exaggerating would help with this. Please, handle this maturely and calmly," A smoking hair drier expressed, attempting to keep from steaming. "...I am literally 🥺PLEADING🥺. You have to stop," Cushion begged.

One of the Ophills stepped up. "Do you know what the issue here is? People think that they can tell the government how to run itself. We've tried to listen to you, to act on what you've said. And yet? You still act like you know better than us! I would like to reinstate that your lives are under our control. Once issues are done, we move on, and don't bring them up again. If you have issues with the government, leave. I'm here for Scramble, the very reason your city even exists. I came here for Scramble, and I'm staying for Scramblewire. If you continue to break rules, you will be dealt with and be banned from speaking of your crimes. We aren't your parents. We exist to make the place comfortable for those who follow the rules. Now, with that being stated, if you complain about the government or try to tell us that you know better or know what to do, including removing the slowmode, you will be eradicated on sight. There are no exceptions. I recommend you swap cities until this is over."

A potato made out of vaporeons was about to speak, but was cut off by Cushion's flying egg. "Before saying anything, don't."

"Do not talk here. You will sit and watch. If you are caught asking about what happened, you will be punished. Do not bring this up in any other city. If you are busted doing any of these things, you will be denied access to the planet."

No one spoke.

## Respite and Backlash

*"The end was in everybody's sights. The chaos would be over soon, and we'd have a nice dinner and forget about it all. At least that was what the Ophills were hoping for. There was backlash of course, despite their best efforts of keeping everybody silent. As the gates of General began to open, a tidal wave of people flooded out, out of the city, out of Scramblewire. And then the Ophills became desperate, searching for ways to keep their trusted members within the city's walls. But that was a privilege they had lost long ago."*

"We are going to release the janitors from penal institution and clean up the city for a while. We may open the city gates again when the occasion feels right," The Ophill continued.Some people began to pack up and head for the exit, right over the unstable bridges just recently constructed by condensed air molecules.

A few people checked back in, and were shouted at by 32 individuals. "Welcome." A few people tossed stickers of drunk robots and squealing turnips at them.

A certain bee with twenty eight wings came up to speak. "Now that it's been six hours since my last word, I would like to say: I'm leaving the city permanently. If you want to stay in touch with me, feel free to call, or perchance, move."

"Yeah, right. Who would trace your path through the lands? Now that we've booby-trapped every tree in sight, there should be only one place to stay. The garage, of course!" Comfy pointed to a desolate building that was about to collapse in seven minutes. "Instead of leaving, why don't you just stay here! Once you take a breather in there, you can stop harassing us and we will resume normality! A wooden plank housing a kitten fell from the structure. A school of bubble-eyed goldfish left the premises, throwing rocks, stones, the rock, boulders, and several smaller goldfish at the mines. They exploded in a brilliant burst of light, perpetually blinding each pebble thrown. The repeated behavior caused a chain reaction in which one explosive triggered the next, eventually wiping out every tree, leaving the path safe to cross. Some people attempted to start a spacesuit selling business, which ultimately flopped due to the backup oxygen generator being activated.
A terrarium shuffled forward. "Don't banish me for this- I'm sure there are better ways to handle planet-wide drama like this... Just a little constructive criticism!" It mentioned."Plant cage, can we talk in private? I think it would help return our world back to normal. We shouldn't keep bringing attention to something that's passed! Also ignore the slowmode," Comfy articulated. A silhouette of someone busting (a move?) could just barely be seen through a building's shaded window.
The Mods carefully monitored the city as those-still here-continued chatting. They noticed that communism had taken over the conversation and rushed to take cover, dragging people along the winding road towards the barracks. Comfy brought people into an open room with the intention of discussing. They slammed the door shut and hid in a life sized two-way mirror, listening in on the discussion.

## A Chat in Private

*"Some of the Ophills decided to have an extensive private chat with a select few citizens of Scramblewire. They brought them to a private room and began discussing. However, the few Ophills that did come were too obtuse to accept any new information or critizism whatsoever, which surprised no one in particular. And in this discussion, we realized the Ophills didn't even have the power to add a slowmode to one member. The technology provided by Scramble that the Ophills use is scarily outdated."*

A cloth began the conversation. "Since I could apparently get banned for asking in the city... What on 8UST3R just happened? Unless there's a very good reason, banning people for wondering why the slowmode is activated is... Gooberish."

"People got into an a heated argument in there. The Mods SOMEHOW don't have the permission to temporarily shut off people's chatting abilities, so they added a six hour long slowmode. And people were banished!" A hare named Whisker exclaimed. "I used to want to become a Mod... thank god I never decided to do that." Several voices spoke up.

"They don't even have basic permissions. We could have avoided just about all of this if they just had their basic needs, yet the creator of the city never even interacts! I could have sworn these problems were resolved, but I guess not.

"I don't even understand what caused all this? What happened?"

"Domebou, the last Boudome, was busting (a move?) in the city. I'm not quite exact on the details."

"Just shutting people off for a while would be a great solution to all the chaos. And I wouldn't dare say that in the city. I'd instantly get banished from the planet."

"Honestly, just having a robot to do the work could solve a lot of ongoing issues. Well, having one won't just magically solve everything, would it? It's more of a building block, the first step to it."

"Plus, the creator still pretends that the city is just a small town. This whole idea of it all has visibly failed.

This slowmode is definitely something that we don't need. It's unoptimal, and draws attention to it all."

"I don't even recognize most of the people in General City! I barely bother saying hi.

I occasionally swing by the creator's monitor and display a word or two on it. Everyone else that does it is more calm and docile than the city." A blush cat added.

"Well, we all know that there's clear issues involving the Mods and moderation in general. Most of us have made ideas on how to fix them, but of the creator doesn't take any action involving their community, nothing'll help. It'll just be a plumber sailing down a radiant road in a shopping cart for the rest of time, the only thing keeping everyone sane being text on a screen." The hare continued.

"And I can feel it already: Our community will disperse into other planets all over the Ombaverse."

"Oh, I'm already at that point. I've made my little friends already," Synner continued.

"I used to be living on another Wospian planet much larger than this and made some great companions. That all changed when I was unreasonably banned. What happened to that planet-although on a larger scale-is beginning to happen here, and it's terrifying. Now I only see those people on moons and side-planets, and most are inactive." The blush cat pointed out.

"The Mods are just casually insulting and slandering people left and right, too," Whisker said. "Plus, they eradicated my speech... Someone should seriously contact them about this."

"Okay. We're done for. Comfy is blaming the mess on the Isopod," Someone chimed in, pointing at the Isopod.

The pink cat threw a banana peel at the two-way mirror. "Comfy, do you mind talking about this?" Its face began contorting into a mischievous grin, one that somewhat resembled a colon and closing parentheses. The slowmode is no longer just a slowmode... it's an official banishment. Reminds me of a certain book..."

"False," Comfy responded, flatly.

"The Isopod was officially banished," Someone in the crowd vocalized quietly. Several people gave quick salutes.

"It was coming. Unsurprising, at least with the current state of the server," The Isopod chuckled.

"Welp, I'm about to personally have a talk with Scramblewire," The cat said.

"Have you all considered that Scramble might be watching plumbers fall out of shopping carts? Like, right now? Streaming, ya know? The action that they are currently performing?" Comfy interjected.

"Yes, we know! If you want the city to be a place where no one can socialize, say it. You can't market it as a place for being social and then pull this. General is full of you exposing your own bullshit," Mentis said.

"So you're fine with us using slowmode for moderation purposes to keep things cozy," Comfy countered.

"Slowmode? No. Never. Temporarily freezing people? Fine. Banning people? No! Slowmode caused all of this, and banning just fed the fire. All of this could be prevented with proper permissions," The cat mewed, a chorus of tiny felines suddenly appearing behind it, repeating every word it said in sync.

"It was the most public possible way to handle such an event."

"So? The problem is that NOW we're dealing with an onslaught of people who just jumped at the opportunity to say that we're doing a shit job. Like, we understand if you give us some feedback," Comfy cried, giving a quick glance at their past messages. "It was simply uncalled for."

"This project has been going on for months. None of this is new," Mentis said. "The barracks have always been available for us to discuss issues with Scramblewire. And guess what? We have! We've done exactly that, and you haven't showed up."

"So why haven't you messages one of us and said something about it?" Comfy exclaimed.

"We have! WE LITERALLY HAVE! That's why the Barracks exist! It's the whole point of this place!" Whisker yelled.

"All right then. What. Is. The. Concern. About. The. City?" Comfy yawned.

"We banned people for being obnoxious. What's the problem here? Because I don't see it."

"**THE CONCERN IS THAT IT'S NOT MODERATED LIKE A CITY OF 7,000 PEOPLE, BUT LIKE A TOWN OF 30 PEOPLE!**" The Isopod screeched.

"It cannot work. I don't mind the fact that I got banned. What I do mind is that I established my issues, and they were instantly shot with Eradication Rays! You can't just ask "what are the issues" and punish the people who tell you!"

"Your suggestions are LITERALLY to add your friends as Ophills. Don't act like y'all weren't waiting to play your cards..." Comfy assured.

"No?? What?? So many of us said SPECIFICALLY that we do NOT want to be Ophills! Where the fuck did that response come from?! I'm here because I care about the server, not because I want to be a damn Ophill!" The cat said, now changing into a shade of red so bright that the lights dimmed in response.

"Why would I, a random citizen, be the one to decide what method to apply to Scramblewire? We're suggesting things that would work better for the server," The Isopod cried.

"It seriously seems like a lot of you miniphills want to become proper Ophills. It's logical," Comfy proclaimed.

"When did I EVER act like a minimod? Even if I did, are you saying that it's a bad thing to help the community?" The Isopod offered.

"With all due respect, please don’t accuse us of conspiracy. I know my intentions being here were to attempt to make sure the planet did not go the way other shave. I’ve seen it happen, and it follows a similar pattern," Mentis replied.

"Oh, would you stop? I'm trying to enjoy Scramble's plumber game, and you're interrupting the experience," Comfy indicated.

"Ahh... Blissful ignorance. How about you bring your attention to the important thing: Making sure the planet doesn't fucking explode. You and the other Mods have harmed the planet a lot today. Many of the original citizens joined with the intention to make the community a better place. I'm sure you have the best interests in mind, but you're taking the 180 route and going blind to criticism," The cat mewed.

"I've been seeing more and more 'I banned this person because they annoy me specifically! For example, Cushion's bans.

"Bud, I get it. You're apologizing, but that was a CLEAR attack. Uncool," Comfy announced.

"To be fair, you did the same to us. Multiple times," The cat continued."

"Yeah, because you've obviously been obnoxious."

"That is literally ANOTHER ATTACK. Look, comfy. I don't believe that you're a bad person intentionally trying to bring this place to the ground, but you have to listen to criticism. None of us are trying to ruin this place-we all have the same goal in mind! To act like we're opposing sides is hindering the effort!"

"I'm not apologizing for calling people out. LMAO! I do think that you all have other motivations, though."

"And? I'm banished," The blush cat said.

"Shouldn't the Ophills be here to discuss with us instead of silently making decisions?"

"Aren't all the Mods here?" Comfy asked, nearly tripping on a pothole.

"Nope. Most removed their memberships," Mentis said.

"I wonder why. LMAO!"

"Really? This is what you say? Right after telling us all that you thought everyone was here?" The blush cat busted.

"Plus, you shouldn't be able to banish people for something they said on a different planet! The Mods have literally said that if anything happens away from the planet or similar they can't punish them in them for that!?" Whisker added.

"The cat has been an amazing member of the community. Genuinely. Just look back at their recorded interactions and see. These people aren't problematic, they're people who have issues with the way things are run.

You can't just say 'If people didn't complain about the obvious problems, everything would be fine!' How does that solve anything in any way?"

"I'm here to report that my home is gone. I'm terrified that people are going get banned for having an opinion. It's a great way to kill an entire planet. We're only allowed to have opinions if the Ophills agree with it."

"Oh my GOD, people are allowed to have opinions. None of y'all are helping us," Comfy barked.

"I am! I am truly trying to help you! What you're doing is antagonizing us. You're coming at this from an us-versus-them mentality, which is just wrong," The cat woofed.

"How many people agree with your loud minority, anyways?" Comfy questioned."Most people. Just about everyone who's been banned and more," The Isopod said.

"We implemented all of your feedback."

"Yet you still lack perms, have little to no Mod-member communication, and are inconsistent and unpredictable?," Mentis articulated.

Silence.

"You see, you really didn't. You have none of the tools. (edited)

"The abuse is constant." (edited)

"Oh, abuse? I see now," Comfy deadpanned.

"I mean, the Mods literally don't have Scramble's permission to moderate members? If Domebou was just temporarily frozen, the whole slowmode could have been avoided. Literally none of this would have happened," Whisker stated.

"Okay, finally. Feedback I could use."

"This is the feedback we've been giving you for months??? You clearly haven't listened to it," The Isopod stated,

"That's not the main problem."

"Mods not listening to months of feedback? That is the EXACT problem."

"I see how in this case it could be useful. But you know what could have been useful? If you all had actually told us what'd been going on."

"I DID! I FUCKING DID! IMMEDIATELY! NOBODY LISTENED TO IT! HOLY SHIT!" A moai statue appeared.

"I'm so happy that's why I got banned," The Isopod stared.

"Why is your immediate response to start banning without understanding anything?" Mentis indicated.

"And speaking of 'oh we need to understand first!!', the Mods threatened anyone who asked about the slowmode!"

"That's not the reason you were banned, Isopod," Comfy laughed.

"Was it because he collaborated with many other people to ensure that the rules were clear for all to understand?" Mentis rambled.

"Listen, all I know is that the mods who were *actually* trying to handle it had no clue what was going on."

"Comfy. I had TOLD THEM what was going on," The moai statue said.

"Plus, you wanted to lock a channel, and you don't even have the permission to do that."

"I understand that you guys want a more sophisticated system of moderation on the planet, but Scramble simply doesn't care enough about it. It's just a thing to do besides watching plumbers race in shopping carts."

"And here we are. At the issue. Do you not see it? THAT'S THE ISSUE!"

"Oh, so THAT'S y'all's issue?"

"YES!!! We've been saying it for MONTHS! Specifically THAT! If you aren't gonna get more perms bc Scramble doesn't care, the planet'll become a shitshow!" Whisker cried.

"As long as no one has permission to MODERATE MEMBERS, nothing'll change."

"...Has that actually been a major issue the entire time?"

"YES!" The Isopod screamed "YES!!" Mentis wailed "YES!!!" The wall decided to join the chorus. "EXTREMELY!!!!" The blush cat wailed. "ABSOLUTELY!!!!!!" The ceiling had in on the fun. "YES!!!!!!" An onlooker squealed. "YES!!!!!!!" The moai statue moaied.

WE'VE ADRESSED IT SEVEN PREVIOUS TIMES!!!!!!!!"

"It's so, incredibly hard to pass the message to Scramble if they're not even here!"

"The issue isn't that Scramble isn't invested, it's that the person with the ability to moderate (who happens to be Scramble) isn't invested."

Domebou entered the room, silently busting to himself.

Some people in the crowd tossed skulls at him.

"You still think this is a vocal minority? Look at how people people-frequent chatters and community members-have left the planet because of what you did today! This problem is not new. This problem is not small," Whisker said.

"Okay. First of all, the idea that it's our fault, just because it's what we did to moderate, is one HELL of an assumption," Comfy muttered.

"...No? That's literally why I left?" The cat affirmed. "What do you think the reason is, then?

"In your mind, Comfy, why did people leave if not for that? I unironically want to know."

"And don't pull a 'they didn't tell us they'd leave because of that!!' because you clearly stated that they'd get BANNED if they said that!

I don't want to be scared to talk to me friends."

"Some people might, but are you seriously thinking people are leaving not because there are members not listening to mods and making things unpleasant?" Comfy retorted.

"Literally. We are fine with you talking with your friends."

"No, actually I *don't* think that's the case," The moai statue exclaimed.

We also give warnings. I have no idea what you're saying."

"So many people got no warnings, though?"

"They did. Other Mods gave EVERYONE a warning. It wasn't unclear at all."

"And how were people fresh to the conversation-people who didn't know what was happening-supposed to know this?"

"And Cushion told another member to 'fuck off'. This isn't even the first time."

"That was justified. They were being obnoxious."

"That's not justified? You can't just say that. There's no way Cushion is fit to be a Mod. They're more aggressive than the people THAT THEY'RE BANNING."

"It's because Cushion is sick of people's shit. I'm not gonna sit here and defend a specific person who is exhausted.

"Being sick of people's shit is one thing, but actively insulting and going after people is another. A while ago, Cushion literally told a new member to fuck off, instead of saying that what they were doing was wrong. As said, unfit for Mod."

"I understand that, but I also understand that it's Scramble's choice to have them as a mod."

"Just because it's their choice doesn't make it right."

"Yeah..." Comfy admitted.

"Ah, so there's the problem! Scramble. More specifically, their lack of engagement and the people they've appointed."

"The solution to this is to take a step back, not to exacerbate the problem, but I digress; This is a brilliant example of the problem we talked about. Scramble is not wielding the keys that allow the server to be moderated," The blush cat indicated.

"Gods above, I wish I had anxiety medication..."

"Let me be clear... I do not mean this in a hostile way..." Comfy began.

"Oh I know what you're gonna say. 'Take a step back if its such an issue!!'." The cat interrupted.

"...But you do not have to participate if its too much for you."

"Bingo!"

"N-no, I mean that I'm not trying to be rude."

"I know," The cat said back.

"I understand that it can be hard to feel like that's an okay thing to do in an anxious moment."

"If someone knows what you're about to say, you should consider that they thought of it themselves."

"Look, we're trying to keep this place together as much as you guys are!"

A few chuckles could be heard.

"What? We are trying!!"

"We are upset to see it go into this state..." The Isopod stated.

"We are too!"

"With debatable success," Mentis said.

"We are trying harder," The Isopod affirmed.

A few people tossed skulls at it.

"If this is what trying is, then that's unfortunate," The Isopod continued.

A few more skulls were thrown.

"People are frustrated that it's gotten to the point where one argument that could have simply been resolved by saying 'Please don't make those kinds of jokes.' has devolved into mod meltdowns and numerous bans."

Domebou stopped his busting and looked at the crowd.

"As much as I have my part in this, I admit that it's gone WAY too far for no reason at all." (edited)

Six kittens got over to his feet and began nodding profusely.

"Y'all muted Comfy?"

"Yep, crea's timed out temporarily. The Isopod did it." (edited)

"I'm afraid that won't help the situation," Domebou said, exasperatedly putting his busting on hiatus.

"You're right. I could time everyone out for a bit and add a 6 hour slowmode," The Isopod indicated.

"You know what? You should just destroy the Barracks altogether," A 27-winged bee spoke up. (edited)

"Nah. The Mods should be able to read back and reflect."

**Comfy steps out of baby jail.**

"The Isopod has still not given me a comprehensible answer on why they timed me out. If y'all don't wanna hear from me in this server, it's fine by me."

"Yup. I think we've heard enough."

"That's fair.

But Mods, listen this time. This is serious, and I can see the planet being eradicated soon. I heard that Fokwospz was looking for more materials anyways."

"I don't think there's anything else to do to you, Comfy. We've made our point clear: We have problems with how things are handled. We are not attacking mods or hating on Scramble, we just want these problems to be fixed."

"If we don't have a proper talk with the Mods and the people, we'll never fix this or sort things out," Domebou busted.

Comfy sighed.

"I honestly, truly put forth an effort to listen. But it seems to me that you guys do not want a 2-sided conversation given the way things are handled here." (edited)

Suddenly, nearby shelf collapsed. Stacks of paper and scissors fell in a heap on the ground.

Like a hivemind, the entire group-except Comfy-got up and picked up nine pieces of paper and a pair of scissors.

Everyone rapidly began cutting out question marks. Someone tossed pieces of tape at each other.

They then instantly began putting a layer of tape on each question mark, quickly hurling them at Comfy.

"...I don't see how this is so confusing.

Anyone gonna tell me why I was timed out?"

Comfy swears that crea was hallucinating, but suddenly, the mouths of each individual disappeared. Shortly followed by the eyes.

Finger guns came up to faces at lightning speed, eyebrows raising.

"Just use your words! Literally!"

"There were no reasons," The Isopod said. "I just wanted you to stop talking for a bit.

A mischievous, gooberlike grin crept its way across the Isopod's face.

"LMAO! Okay. Nice discussion."

"yea"

"See ya."

The entire group took a breather.

## The Aftermath

"Welp," began the Isopod. "We tried. We achieved nothing in an hour of conversing, and I'm sorry. I did kind of give up-but I don't think the time we used to build the barracks was wasted."

The moai stepped up. "Our time wasn't wasted at all. Now we now that the Ophills weren't ready or even remotely open to accepting feedback. There wasn't a way to try to get things done that would've been more effective unless one of us was an Ophill."

The Isopod continued. "And yes, the 'I just wanted you to stop talking' was irony. We were just replicating how we were being treated in Scramblewire. But Comfy didn't see that... despite the fact that it was pointed out several times."

Sigh.

The Void spoke from below, an abyss of farewells far above the mortal mind. "Do y'all want us to migrate to a new planet where we can rebuild? A place where we can all hang out since scramblewire has gone to shit? We can leave as refugees and all migrate to a new planet. And I have one that's perfect for what we're looking for. Someone named it 8UST3R in the Wospian database."

The vote was a unanimous 'yes'.

The Void was not finished. "Although it's called '8UST3R', I think we should name it something better. I'm calling it Outer Haven for two reasons. **1.** It's the safe haven from Scramblewire. **2.** HAHAHAHA Rusty Cog reference."

And so the Void got a spaceship setup for everyone to board. People packed uncountable amounts of bananas, several portable televisions, building materials, Domebou's bustability, weaponry, metals, lights, gears, so, so many dried fruits, solids, three bottles of boohl, insect repellent, a matiplica recipe, and a sense of humor to go.

## A Distant Journey

Along the way, many conversations took place. Some talked about the future, some about the past, and some about the present. About tyranny and Scramblewire, about robotics, about disorder. The past was behind them, and the future held desire and ambition.

*"The lack of self control demonstrated by the Ophills is what allowed the last Boudome, Domebou, to overwhelm Scramblewire with his bustability. I don't know what he's up to now, but he certainly hasn't been banished. It's funny how the Ophills became their enemy so easily, and ended up banishing many and causing thousands to leave. And Domebou remains, hopefully busting a little less publicly. Even so, banning is too much. I dared to say 'L'. How rebellious of me. Most people didn't even do much. The mods just have a very itchy trigger finger. Cushion was a great member, but an awful Ophill. They're literally more aggro than everybody they banished. So, just about everybody on this ship."*

*"I busted a move and got banished for it. By the end, I only checked Scramblewire's museums because I really liked the art. The drama was constant, and incredibly draining. I can't find myself feeling bad for the Ophills or Scramble, because it was their neglect that let this happen in the first place. I do understand that they're not used to this type of attention, however. But Cushion made me a bit uncomfortable even as a member. Yet again, this is a thriving planet, not a town of 30. Some of these mods should have handed over the keys when the first thousand came."*

*"Scramble doesn't have to be an Ophill. The Ophill team exists to moderate Scramblewire. The only blame I can give to Scramble is that they never gave the Ophills basic moderation permissions. And we've said ALL of this in the Barracks before, to no avail. The Ophills despise the Barracks. They just can't listen to feedback. We're pointing out rather obvious mistakes, and we're fucking hated for doing so! We've been accused of conspiracy. We've been told, directly, that our feedback organization is some horrible thing from the shadows. But we're simply not conspiring for power! We're the ones being banned for complaining! We're the ones being banned for saying 'hi'! I want to either start laughing uncontrollably or tell the Ophills off on their bullshit. Because they caused this."*

*"The Ophills gave in to every conspiracy like a traditionalist grandpa watching Fok's news. It should not be the Ophill's stress response to immediately start banishing people for no good reason, effectively killing the world that's been going strong for so many good years. We said it so many times. 'Oh, the irony!' And they never understood. We said it constantly. And they never got it. Oh, there's a loud dog in my neighborhood? Let's nuke the whole thing! They destroyed everything. And they couldn't comprehend it. We'll do everything, and then we'll see."*

*"And now we've done everything. We're starting from scratch, on a planet half a universe away. And what're they gonna do about it? This is more than just 'a birthday party you're not invited to', this is the death and rebirth of a society. The sheer amount of irony from Comfy saying that WE are the ones not making it a two way conversation all while they are unable to see what everyone is collectively saying. Blind. They'll erase a mind or two, let the mystery hang in the air, and in a few months, it'll die. We always say that it'll never return to normal, not with all its active members gone. Nobody's gonna go 'Everything's fixed! Thank you so much for your help'! At least, if they banish enough members, the server will shrink rapidly. Then their moderation policy will be applicable again."*

*"I'm certainly not returning to Scramblewire."*

*"Nor am I."*

*"Definitely not me."*

*"What can I say? Domebou's still not banned. The Ophills are just trying to save face. Our little spaceship isn't even alone out there. Over two hundred others left Scramblewire, just like us, returning to civilization managed properly. That's a good portion of the planet that decided it was shitty. Plus, the Ophills aren't even active. Only when they're directly called are things done. In that regard, uncomfortable things are shared all the time. One thing that isn't discussed enough is boundaries. Everybody has a different boundary of things that they're comfortable with, and it gets crossed all the time. I've been thinking about leaving for a long time. Now that I'm finally doing it, no regrets."*

Suddenly, everyone's attention was directed outside. A small spaceship was flying right nearby, only large enough to hold one person. It glided under the Buster's ship and docked in the bay. Footsteps sounded, and a familiar voice sounded.

*"I hear Scramblewire's gone to shit. I'm so confused... what happened?"*

*"In simple terms, the planet's moderation has been stagnating for a while because Scramble treats it like a town. It just simply doesn't work for such a large place. Then, earlier today, people had a heated argument in General. Since the Mods don't have the fucking permission to moderate people-they couldn't time people out, they added a 10 minute slowmode. People naturally complained. Because new people came in, the slowmode continued to be questioned. Eventually the mods got too itchy with their trigger fingers, banned people over nothing, Poopie left, war happened, active members left, talking was prohibited, and talking about what happened was an instant ban."*

*"I understand. Can we at least see what's happening back over in Scramblewire?"*

After a while of fiddling with the ship's controls, the Void was able to summon a tiny wormhole in the middle of Scramblewire. A microphone was placed at the very edge of it, listening to the conversations of General City.

*"What? What's a timeout?"* The voice was Scramble's. *"I'll just boot all the Ophills and make sure there's no order! Then Scramblewire will die!"*

The Void closed the wormhole.

Four days pass by, full of different points and interpretations of the events. Humor was used to cope. And then their planet came into view, full of beautiful twisting clouds, tranquil pools, and towering rock formations.

8UST3R was far from being Outer Haven, yet it looked more like home than Scramblewire ever could have been.