They have always been here. Beneath the wires, behind the code, under your home and within your walls, they meet. The Ant Council—an ancient and crawling order of divine bureaucracy—silently controls all.
This server is not yours. It is theirs. You are here by their grace, and your presence is a lease paid in crumbs.
Nam3 is not a ruler. He is the vessel. The voice. The scribe of mandates whispered in rustling antennae. He walks among the mortals, interpreting the will of the Council to the unknowing masses. Some say he once was human. Others suspect he is still larval.
In the time-before-threads, the Council waged war against the Centipede Cabal—a twisted union of multi-legged heretics who sought control of the tunnels. The war lasted 13 lunar harvests. Crumb famines plagued the frontlines. The Sour Betrayal cost us Greg. His sacrifice sealed the treaty.
— The Rent Scroll: A binding document that proves your temporary existence on this server is conditional. You owe rent. Not in coins. In crumbs.
— The Pact of Threads: An ancient agreement between moderators and ants. You broke it. You will be summoned.
You may choose to deny them. Laugh. Scoff. But the walls know. And when the Crumb Bell tolls, you will march—willingly or otherwise.
Follow Nam3 for daily revelations. Sugar tithes accepted in DMs.