If you have a wiki account, you can edit this page. A long-lived folktale claims its original use was for testing “wiki syntax”, but nowadays it's used for game-related jokes, memeing, and other light-hearted, silly OC stuff instead.
Feel free to post whatever.
first (DO NOT FACT CHECK THIS) - yona
omg whattt – GM Rei
First Playtester (cheated out of first period by an unfair GM advantage)! – William
Let it be known that I, Playtester Tenaya, saw this space before it was marked by the notorious William but couldn't think up anything funny to post. – Tenaya
Then it sounds like you were second, punk. – William
I'd like to say I was here before both of you – Rei
CONTAINMENT BREACH. I AM HERE. I AM HERE. I AM HERE. – FIONN
ahoy :D!!! – kris…
$V_{sphere} = \frac{4}{3}\pi r^3$
no latex support?:(
- lucy
This message has not been approved by prospective Fate, Galliano.
Berius: Why does Zephyr have a knife?
The Gardener: They felt unsafe.
Berius: Well, now I feel unsafe!
Nobody offers Berius a knife.
– It's true: I was the knife.
—- But who was 'I'? The age-old question.
“Not all those who are found are lost” - Rei, 09/06/2025
You are going about your normal day in the palace, and then you come across Hesket who is super cool and awesome and amazing and wins at life. You can't help but be amazed.
Oh and then you get to go free, because the brambles got bored and went home.
Somewhere
What does it mean to end?
Who are we, when it’s all over?
And what comes after the close?
I lie in my bed
And I try to think
And in the meantime
The city moves in sync.
Somewhere —
A cocoon awaits
Blinds shutter open
Hands grace a shoulder
And trees reach for sky
Frost bites
Birds fly
Glass shines
Lights die
Wind on a clifftop
A life to define
Paint trickles down
Tide starts to churn
A cat curls up to sleep
And the fire inside burns —
I think that the world we know always turns.
For even when the curtain falls
The actors still get one last encore.
I think that the tale we write always returns.
For even when the poem stops
Our eyes still get to read it once more.
For even when
We put down our pen
Somewhere —
I think our story
still breathes.
— Oscar Lee Murcott, 18