Ever since we got our own server, we've had the issue of proper hosting. Every year without fail, we weigh cost versus supposed reliability versus bandwidth. Zman, for reasons I still can't quite figure out, still ponies up most of the cash each year, but in recent times we've helped out a lot more. We tend to favor servers that are reviewed as "reliable," since our previous host always seems to black out right before the year is up. This is a endless cycle that has only driven the price up to no real end. One thing is for sure; nobody should ever use Dreamhost, ever.

Gifts for Secret Satan range from pretty lame to very awesome. Some people really go above and beyond, like dressing a stuffed moose in little red boxers, and some do not, like resending the stuffed moose in red boxers they got last year. First Prize for over-the-top gift, however, must go to Loller. He sent Oriana a small treasure chest full of fake gold coins and other trinkets, and included with it a full walkthrough for a game that doesn't exist. It's one of the best Khakain fanfictions ever, since you could almost see it working as a game. It even had illustrations and a map. Charlie is totally allowed to forget to send someone a gift next year.

There really would not be a PGF without our robot friend watching over the place. He's what made the chat truly popular in its early days, back with the money system and gambling and horse racing. He's kept meticulous stats though MOST of the chat's life. The current model can tell you the weather in your area, define any word a bunch of different ways, retrieve the titles of links, leave messages for people, identify people, remind you of stuff you need to do, summon monsters, answer any yes/no question, and just generally brings the chat to life. He breaks down occasionally and Moiph is always slow to fix him, but it's part of his charm.

ZRPG is one of those places you may have heard about in passing from giant nerds talking about nerd things. Believe it or not, we were responsible for their creation. We found Kalimdel there, long ago. As the Khakainers that gave it life grew disinterested, internal drama set in among the native admins. And I mean, drama like we've never seen. Love pentagons, that kind of thing. The last sane admin, RABicle relayed some grim tales, saying that he would soon retire from adminship. It was decided that it would be best if he instead used the account to teach them a lesson. We essentially bent them over and tanned their hides. Nobody knows how the disciplinary action affected them, because nobody goes to check. Sources say that our disowned kid is at least happy.

Gimdin tried something that was pretty unheard of, and considering how little he was around it was downright ballsy; He took his two favorite boards, and got volunteers from both to go to each others' boards. We had had no previous contact. Very quickly we found that we got screwed in the trade. Khakain members were greeted with a rulemongering management not unlike Emo Khakain, lead by Maxy and his hubristic brother Inquisitor, and RPG Town's volunteers were practically absent. Though it had turned into a shitstorm and Gimdin's plan to make our two boards BFFs failed miserably, RPG Town's exposure to Khakain made it part of the family.

Let me get this out of the way; Rapehorse is a horse-man that travels through time and rapes your past. I didn't make it up, that's just how things are. It started as a remark aimed at Pigpen and Keiran quickly drew a picture to depict it. It just seemed to fit with the rest of our "bestiary" naturally. But the legend of Rapehorse does not end there. Someone registered the name with AIM and messaged people with long monologues about how he was raping them. Long after people forgot about it, treecko took the credit, which would explain how he kinda missed the whole "time travel" angle in the exercise. Nonetheless, Rapehorse is a welcome newcomer to our happy mascot family, but only because we're afraid what would happen if we didn't let him in.

This one's a little confusing. We used to have our own image board, called Khakainchan. It was found by Wtfux, a board for users that were banned from 4chan. They decided to spam our board with lolicon. It was clothed, but filling our image board with little girls still doesn't look very good. The board in that condition was found by a watchdog group, which reported the activity to our server admin, who deleted our entire server. Luckily we were making daily backups, but more profound was the effect on ftp accounts. Squirtle.khakain.com was obliterated just as it was getting going, and the Squirtles decided to just move to Khakain proper. Zrpg.khakain.com was also deleted, and they took the oppurtunity to register their own domain and move out from under our influence. Needless to say, we got rid of Khakainchan.

Nick Nack's an alright guy but he keeps some seriously bad company. The Light, Venso Howlie, WiththeDawn, Linktwin and Campin Carl all descended on the board simultaneously, answering Nick Nack's call, after he proclaimed Khakain the new home for their kind. We quickly found out what a bad deal this was; they were all very underage and very annoying. From their "embassy" they talked amongst themselves endlessly while periodically journeying out to unknowingly torment the people that were their sworn enemies just months ago. Their crap posting and overwhelming numbers nearly ruined the board, and Tim called for wiping the slate clean entirely and starting anew on an SMF board. Shortly thereafter Nick Nack took responsibility for their appearance and got all of them to leave, possibly by scaring them.

One day, Deamon gave us a huge list of email account passwords that he had gotten from some gaming site. Something in the league of tens of thousands. We were given permission to "go wild" with them. We may have caused a breakup or two. One particularly bad email had the above sentence in it verbatim. And so, in one email from the hacked inbox of a distraught teenage girl, from an account among thousands of others to choose from, a single sentence became an obscure joke on a private message board. Sometimes you guys make my head hurt.

Botch, wherever he may be, was no stranger to risky behavior. He went parasailing, he looked down the barrel of many a gun, and he got married. But no act was quite as dangerous as the one he performed in front of a faith healer. He was doing a paper on how they're all full of crap, so he decided to go to one asking him to cure his homosexuality. The healer's tactics seemed largely pummel-based, and Botch was sent into a fetal position by the FIRE OF JESUS. After the show he got the phone number of one of the healer's female assistants, all without revealing his secret.