Unholy Covenant began as a Star Wars Galaxies, Kettemoor-Rori based player association on the somewhere in November of 2003. Cassia founded the organization, and she ran it like a black hearted dominatrix until a major Madame Bovary like dramatic meltdown found the guild in ruins. Joachim Peiper picked up the DNS name, helped to rebuild the guild with new leadership: Vandrav and his faithful sidekick Spudsin. Vandrav and Spudsin eventually left the Kettemoor scene during another meltdown around the time EQII emerged from Sony's San Diego womb. For a time, many wandered the emotional wilderness of their barren lives on the virtual wastelands of Kettemoor without a place to call home.

Up until October 24th, 2005 we managed to carve a small enclave of fun people which survived in spite of Sony On-Line Entertainment's best efforts to bastardize this remarkable property.

Now, I aspire to see the Unholy Covenant transcend the world of centrally controlled MMORPG narrative experience. I hope that I can persuade even a small amount of people that there is more to life than just grinding away as a commercial firm's annuity stream.

Players of a subscription based MMORPG title provided to the mass market via sweat shop labor are not gamers to that firm's management. They are cash flow opportunities and annuity streams. Gamers are a headcount to be monetized and eyeballs to whom the firm can push a brand impression. The cash from your wallet supports commercialized content, avoids controversy, and otherwise imposes the values of its management upon the players creating the content. This generally occurs in the context of a game play repetitive infrastructure. This genre manifests itself as the new homogenized Hollywood, and we can expect it to be peopled by the same personalities, temperament, and ideologies that you find in the late 20th century cinema industry.

The narrative experiences over which mass market focused commercial firms maintain a Farenheit 451 like grip can be broken through the application of our collective imagination to the virtual spaces in which we choose to live. This web site is my meaningless manifesto, my chasing after the wind, and a delicious cyber-Burrito Supreme with extra jalapenos aimed at the heart of the MMORPG machine. One person's tilting at an insurmountable windmill can make a difference. Act like what you do matters. It does.