I am happy to join with you today in what will go down on this forum as the greatest dream in gaming in the history of our community.
Ten score years ago, a great man, in whose symbolic shadow we fly today, built the first airship. This momentous feat came as a great beacon of light of hope to millions of Earth-bound slaves who had been seared in the flames of the withering world. It cames as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of gravity.
But one hundred years later, the People of earth still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the man is still sadly crippled by the manacles of level segregation and the chains of player discrimination. One hundred years later, the people of our fair community lives on a lonely playerbase of friendliness of a vast ocean of toxicity and micro-transactions. One hundred years later, the Players are still languished in the corners in the gamer scoiety and finds himself in exile in his own world. So we have come here today, to dramatize a shameful condition.
In a sense we've come to our community's forum to cash an opinion. When the developers and creators of our community wrote the magnificent code of the game and the rules, they were signing a promissory note to which every Players was to fall heir.
This note was a promise that all men, yes, New players as well as old players, would be guaranteed unalienable rights of play, fun and the pursuit of improvement.
It is obvious today that GoIO has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her players of rookies are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, GoIO has given the new players a bad rep: A rep which has come marked as "Shitty scrubs."
But we refuse to believe that the players of the community is toxic. We refuse to believe that there are shitty scrubs in the great amounts of our playerbase of opportunity of this game. So we have come to cash this opinion - an opinion that will give us upon demand the riches of friendship and the pursuit of low toxicity.
We have also come to this hallowed place to remind GoIO of the fierce urgency of now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of pubstomps or to take the tranguilizing drug of raging at your crew.
Now is the time to make real the promises of help. Now is the time to rise from the hate and desolate valleys of cursewords to the sunlit path of equality and politeness. Now is the time to lfit our community from the quicksands of bad sportsmanship to the solid rock of solidarity. Now is the time to make fun a reality for all of Gabriel's Children.
It would be a fatal for the playerbase to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering spring of the rookie will not pass untill the new matchmaking system is put in place that invigorates an april of politically correct and friendly spirits. Twenty fourteen is not an end, but a beginning. Those who hope that the new players needed to blwo off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the community returns to business as usual. There will be neither rest nor tranguility in GoIO untill the rookie is granted his playing rights with others. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our community untill the day I am banned.
But there is something that i must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of politeness. In the process of gaining their rightful place we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let them not seek to satisfy your thirst for hate by letting them drink from the cup of rage and toxicity. We must forever conduct their struggle on the high skies of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative builds to degenerate into lies and trolling. Again and again we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting Kill-ships with our soul flares.
The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the rookie community must not lead us to a distrust of all old players, for many of our veteran players, as evidanced by their tournaments today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. And they have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our skills. We cannot play alone.
And as we walk, we must made the pledge that we shall forge ahead. We cannot exit match. There are those who are asking the devotees of Community standards, "When will you ban me?"
We can never be satisfied as long as the Rookie is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of Rage and toxicity.
We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of waiting, cannot gain lodging in the lobbies of the veteraned and experienced lobbies in the server list.
No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like bullets and flames like a Greased hades-
I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great tutorials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow ban lists. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for levels left you battered by the storms of accusations and battered by the winds of stacked teams. You have been the veterans of gaming suffering. Continue to work your aim on the lumberjack, till that one day your captain accepts you.
Go back to Desert Scrap, go back to Anglean Raiders, go back to Labyrinth, go back to Raid on the Refinery, go back to Flayed Hills, go back to the novice matches of our american-based serverlists, knowing that somehow this capture point can and will be taken. Let us not wallow in the Deathmatches of despair.
I say to you today, my friends, so even though we face the difficulties of experience of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the Community Ambassadors program.
I have a dream that one day this community will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "Engaging in these behaviours will lead to appropriate corrective actions being taken, including private warnings, editing or removal of offensive content, temporary suspension of account, and permanent banishment from the game and/or forums."
I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Red sepulcher the sons of former Gents and the sons of former Ducks will be able to sit down together at the table of Clans.
I have a dream that one day even the Region of Antarctica, a state of no players and impossible match finds, sweltering with lack of any and all players, will eventually have its first expeditionary match run.
I have a dream that my four crewmen will one day live in a game where they were not shot down by abuse of longrange guns, they will not be judged by the class of their pick but by the content of their loadouts.
I have a dream today.
I have a dream that one day down in Battle on the Dunes, with its captains' dripping with the words of ship builds and instructive learning, that one day right down in Duel at Dawn little new Engineers and gunners will be able to join hands with little captains and old veterans as sisters and brothers.
I have a dream today.
I have a dream that one day ever capture point shall be exhalted, every Crazy king King and resource race shall be captured, the rough fight with a Fire ext-Chem Spray-Buff tool engi shall be made null, and the crooked lobbies will be made straight, and the glory of the Eric shall be revealead, and all flesh shall see it together.
