Who started Boards?

The Wiki does fail to to convey the correct level of fetid stench surrounding the quake alumni's most vituperative venture, though. (vituperative is the wrong word but I wanted to use it so screw you guys) Boards grew organically from the carpet in sandwith street, a bit like the potato/lemon clock, I'm convinced of it.

Steveire wrote:

Will you rewrite it then? I probably wrote whatever it is in the biki you're talking about, and I never really played quake or doom, and I wasn't around this site then either. I just picked stuff up from old posts and a bit of creative googling.

Meh. The history goes as follows:
Brown Plastic chairs in the Hamlab, a dark hot geothermal subterranean computer lab in Trinners, probably around 1am.
Twitchy nerds in the process of dropping out of college, along with twitchy nerds who supposedly have grown up and have real jobs play quake with other twitchy nerds on the opposite side of the country, while Slutmonkey points out that quake is brown and frankly seems to be a lot of effort, unlike typing rubbish commentary into Valhalla MUD, much to the disinterest of all concerned. Said nerds then dissipate once the gladiatorial ructions have reached their epic peak, with much weird commentary about the various "tactics" involved, which may or may not involve watching things twitch about on a screen and shouting random gibberish, while apparantly not cheating, for reasons best known to themselves.

Dublin nerds then repair to the local doss house, a hovel by the name of Something Sandwith Street, what might be best described as an ill-planned cardboard box halfway under a railway bridge containing one (1) right angle between its walls, two bedrooms (containing anything between 5 and 7 occupants), a sitting room containing no television, and a door off what is used as a kitchen that is passed off by the landlord as a bathroom but is effectively a corner of the back yard with a tin roof over it. Only worse smelling. Meanwhile, the country nerds repair to what Slutmonkey dismissivly refers to as cow-**** ridden hovels, quietly enjoying the missed irony while attempting to stop the never-cleaned carpet from growing over his feet while he sleeps.
Meanwhile, Tom "DeVore" Murphy babbles excitedly at high speed about the latest brainwave to course through his skull until Joe, the Most Sarcastic Nerd In The Universe, a man who could make an orgasm sound like a chore, tells him to shut up, which only causes him to change tack breifly until he realises that his audience is unconscious and talks to the wall instead, probably getting a better reaction in any case. On the opposite side of the country, his erstwhile partners in future crime sleep blissfully unaware of the horror he is about to unleash on their lives, while Regi has his life ruined by The Slapper From The Black Lagoon.

The fateful day comes. The culchies and the faux-snooty Trinners crowd meet for weekends of quake, drinking, and talking absolute rubbish at high speed, a contest hotly debated between Reaper (points for vehement blinkerdness), DeVore (points for being several steps ahead of himself in many cases), Zero (points for aggression but generally too quick to realise he's wasting his time and finding something else to do) and PJ, the non-quake playing resident asylum escapee (points deducted on all counts as he is usually arguing about something completely different to the rest of the table, with no recourse to logic, without listening to a word anyone else says, at a very high volume). Slutmonkey observes all the attempted one-upmanship until such time as he feels the need to point out that the rest of the table are, in fact, nerds, papishers, Irish, culchies, or quake players as appropriate, to which the rest of the table conspires against him by accusing him of being a snobbish west brit proddy, to which he enquires what their point is.

And thus boards croaks into existance, powered by buckfast, brown lumps bought from the ultra-scobes in Fenian St flats, desperation, mexican showers, Zero's almost-unnerdy normal bloke exterior, and Bunny's obsessional enthusiasm as he debates the merits of Philosophy vs. professional quake playing. Personally I blame Cloud for providing Dev with the facilities to actually implement one of his crazy ideas, which as anyone who knows him can tell you is not usually a good idea as it takes over his life, and several other people's as well.