Give me the EPIC fictional reason for how you got your username!

I won Ozoneocean after climbing 15 mountains, fighting 20 dragons, and learning magic magic from a dark arch-mage deep in a stinking dungeon buried deep bellow a designer fashion house in Milan.
That wizard had the most stylish robes ever, his posing was meticulous.

Well, way back in 1982 I proposed a new scientific theory. Genetics. As it was so far into the dark ages everyone was a bible thumper and would not hear of it, in fact I became a joke in the scientific community. It took many years and even more back handers but finally my life's work was validated. I took the name genejoke as a reminder of those dark times when belief trumped proof.

Years ago, I was wandering through the streets of the city and stumbled upon a psychic shop that I had never seen before. Inside, through a haze of gauzey curtains and hookah smoke, sat a woman whose vaguely orientalist garb and crystal ball just screamed “new-age hack.” I thought I'd have her read my fortune just for laughs, and she gave me some spiel about journeys and spreading love in the world. I scoffed and refused to pay, muttering “%&#$ hippie” under my breath as I turned to walk out. I think she must have heard me, because I suddenly collapsed. The last thing I remember is her standing over me, speaking angrily in a language I couldn't understand.

I awoke some days later in a field. As I got my bearings I realized that my arms and legs had been replaced with rubber tires, and I could feel an engine chugging along inside where my heart once was. Through my windshield I could see a group of long-haired young people lounging in the warm grass, one of them lazily strumming a ukulele. Since then I have lived as a sentient hippie van, doomed to carry wanderers and festival-goers about on endless road trips - serving the very people I had mocked.

I've mostly come to terms with it at this point. Typing is hard, though.

Well, I'm actually in an Epic right now…

You see, I really am Kimber Lee Luster! I'm dreaming an epic story right now, and this site is really just sort of a place to store my dream journal, which I call the Godstrain.

By the way, none of you other DDers are real - you're all just parts, parcels, and permutations of my demented mind, so don't hang on to any long-term dreams of your own. because when I wake up (and I will someday) you're all… *poof*

I was watching Coronation Street and doing a spot of ironing one day when, instead of a crumpled shirt, I pulled a small, crumpled blue man from the clothes basket. The poor little fellow announced himself as Bravo Blaggins and told me he'd entered our world through a magical portal at the back of my pantry, to hide from the Germanian Goblin King, who'd seized control of the underworld. This vile creature had enslaved all the faerie folk and encased everything in an inpenetrable layer of Ben and Jerry's.

Well I'm not one for cold weather, but I didn't like the sound of this humourless gnome, so I told Bravo Blaggins I'd be along presently, as soon as I'd ironed a scarf. He disappeared back into the pantry, uttering the words Iron, Scarf, Iron, Scarf, as he went. It was only a minute or so before I followed on, but apparently, time is quite different in the underworld and the rumours of the coming hero with the iron scarf had been building for several months.

Now it turns out that iron is a powerful element in the underworld and this fortuitous misunderstanding had labelled me a mighty warrior, feared throughout the seven kindoms of pixiedom. With the help of Bravo Blaggins and my scarf, I was quickly able to amass an army of faerie folk. We fought our way through the seven kingdoms, drinking, dancing and ridding the land of vicious trolls until we finally forced the vile Goblin King back into his shadowy lair.

A huge celebration was thrown to honour the mighty Ironscarf and there I learned my selfless bravery had won me the hand of a faerie princess. I politely declined, wishing to return to my unfinished smalls, but within minutes of meeting the beautiful Lady Scarf to be, I fell hopelessy in love and agreed to stay on, becoming King of the Underworld. A new epoch of peace, happiness and quality neckwear began.
Many great adventures followed, but after seven millenia, my reign was over and I appointed a new king, the fearless warrior sage, Bravo Blaggins. Lady Scarf and I said our fond farewells and skipped through the pantry back to the mortal realm, just in time to catch the end of Coronation Street.

On very dark and very quiet nights, in clearings in the woods, tiny voices can still be heard singing songs and recounting tales of the benevolent king Ironscarf. Lady Scarf has adapted well to life in the mortal realm and never seems to arouse suspicion, despite the mischievous sparkle in her eye and her prodigious use of magic. As for me, I'm still working my way through that ironing pile.

I finally managed to find half of it searching the library of a mansion in London. For the other half, I got in a knife fight with the bookman on Portobello Road.

Scarf, that sounds like a mixture of Stairway to heaven, Lord Dunsany, Tolkien and CS Lewis XD
Effing Awesome tales of high adventure and deep woe guys! Kim's was particularly clever.

The name Ozoneocean was ACTUALLY acquired by me after a perilous space voyage.
My team and I landed on a barren, rocky, crater-marked grey moon, circling far out from an ominous red glowing gas giant that loomed over us all like a horrible glaring eyeball. They exited the landing module to EVA in their bulky white suits while I stayed back to finish another page of Pinky TA.
Well, next thing I know our orbiting mother-ship has picked up an incoming object on radar- a weirdly dark blue glowing asteroid turned meteor bearing pretty dam close!
I ran the numbers through the computer and saw it was gonna hit the moon, on the far side from us though so we should be safe. I checked and rechecked to be sure and alerted the guys on the walk, telling them to come back quick, just to be safe.

Those fools… those brave damn, stupid fools! If only we'd known, but it happened too fast.
They told me they'd found some interesting objects, pieces of a strange alloy possibly of alien manufacture. It was too good a chance to pass up, they said they'd risk it.

The thing streaked into the far side of the moon. There was no sensation of impact but I saw a blue flash on the ground monitors and the mother-ship showed me the impact from the remote cameras. Next thing I know ALL the warning claxons went off at once! The automated systems on the mother-ship were telling me to get off there quick! I tried to raise the guys on the com but the radios were hit by a wave of static. I had ZERO time… no choice but to leave them.

The asteroid was a massive chunk of vicious frozen ozone. A bizarre thing to happen but strange stuff occurs in space. On impact it liquefied and washed all over and around the moon. I escaped under a MASSIVE load of Gs in hard, bone splitting acceleration. There was nothing, nothing at all I could do for the team. They were swamped under the instant freezing, highly reactive HELL of the ozone ocean. No way their suits could cope with that. They were frozen in seconds their suits breached and their bodies starting to burn shortly after. At least it was quick.

When I got back to the survey station the guys branded me with the name… Partly as a mark of everlasting shame, partly for the novelty of being the only man to ever live to witness something so unique and terrible.

The lesson is of course to ALWAYS STAY BEHIND TO FINISH YOUR COMIC PAGES!

I take it Banes was the lone survivor who had mutated into an orange hairy thing and hunted you for years trying to get revenge. Being in fact the very BANE of your existence. At last you and he came to an agreement and became fast friends. Realizing the name Bane belonged to DC comics group he added the s to avoid the lawsuit. Also over the year he had developed many curses to plague you in fact being the cause of many banes and woes in the long and storied career of Ozoneocean.
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During the Third World War of August 1985 a single company of tanks from the New Jersey National Guard so distinguished themselves at the battle of Fulda Gap. They reenacting a sort of tank Thermopylae to stall the hordes of Soviet Armor to save the NATO forces from ruin and allowing for the eventual counterattack that won the day and forced the fall of the Soviet Union.


That unit, Bravo company 1st of the 102d armor perished except for one lone tank. I took the name Bravo1102 to forever commemorate the bravery of those men, two women, three dogs, several feral cats and a plush beaver named Bucky I fought along side.


The great speech by President Reagan in June 1987 was the address at the official treaty of Berlin ending the inconclusive war. The war is also commemorated in the hit song 99 Red Balloons. It is nearly forgotten now except for the lone stone pillar at Fulda Gap marked with the names of that brave company of brothers/sisters/dogs/cats and Gund stuffed animal.

The night was long and sad like a red eye train south bound from the one true love I ever knew, aside from the bottle. Loneliness touched my shoulder with trepidation, like a stranger with a lost child. The fog smeared the street light from one dive to the next and unpaid tabs barked after me echoing in the emptiness and the cool night air. My shoes were heavy and my pockets were thin, and my knuckles pulsed with pain, but I already couldn't remember why. I was doing something. I was walking somewhere. The black lump on the curb grabbed my feet and reminded me where the ground was with a wet pop to the skull, and that's when I saw you again. looking at me. We stared at each other for a while there in the gutter. I remember you now. Don't you worry. That guy won't bother you again. My knuckles are telling me you won't see him again.
You're not blinking. You're not seeing anyone again. I laid with you for a while. Until it got awkward. I pulled up to my knees and fished the bill fold from your vest pocket. No kid pics, no lady? Your life was flashing before my eyes, and it was a real killjoy.
Good name though, “Bruno Harm”.
I like the sound of that..

Prometheus stole the fire of the gods. I stole their mask. Sadly, obtaining the map and necessary details for breaking into the home of the gods cost me my name. I am now simply…Maskdt.

My name is actually taken from a ship. I love ships.
This was the greatest pleasure boat to ever sail the seas! A towering white and gold shining cruise ship, 350 meters long and 20 stories high. Filled to the brim with nubile bikini clad beauties, a non-stop party palace, blaring music, endless debauchery and decadence…

I was fortunate enough to win a cruise. We sailed all around the world, bringing joy to every port we visited. Tales of our excesses were legendary!

Sadly, during the great stock-market collapse at the end of the ‘80s the ship’s owners went bankrupt and the party ended.
She languished sad and empty for a few years at port, rusting away and mouldering inside, a shadow of the glory that once clothed it. In the early 2000s it was finally broken up at a breaker's yard in India.
That's when I took its name, “OH-Zone Ocean”, so I'd always remember those glorious, heady days.

My username is actually my legal middle name. My father named me after his grandmother who immigrated to the USA from the “old country.” I was never told which country is the “old country.” My father says that one day it will rise again as a major world power and I will be its queen. Until then I must keep this royal secret or I will be beset upon by ninja assassins. So, lets keep this between us, ok?

It began in the dark days of prehistory in the ancient land of Mon Hareesh. A wizard of some fame had been trying to predict the future of his people. He stared deep into his crystal ball as the sun set and the future seized him by the throat. They struggled until finally, in his dying breath, the wizard screamed one final word. . .

“KOTAAAAAA!”

So one night I had this dream I was strangling a wizard and he screamed “KOTAAAAAAA!”

Part I
It was a dark and stormy night. Suddenly, a shot rang out! A door slammed. The maid screamed.
Suddenly, a pirate ship appeared on the horizon!
While millions of people were starving, the king lived in luxury. Meanwhile, on a small farm in Kansas, a boy was growing up.

Part II
A light snow was falling, and the little girl with the tattered shawl had not sold a violet all day.
At that very moment, a young intern at City Hospital was making an important discovery. The mysterious patient in Room 213 had finally awakened. She moaned softly.
Could it be that she was the sister of the boy in Kansas who loved the girl with the tattered shawl who was the daughter of the maid who had escaped from the pirates?
The intern frowned.
“Stampede!” the foreman shouted, and forty thousand head of cattle thundered down on the tiny camp. The two men rolled on the ground grappling beneath the murderous hooves. A left and a right. A left. Another left and right. An uppercut to the jaw. The fight was over. And so the ranch was saved.
The young intern sat by himself in one corner of the coffee shop. He had learned about medicine, but more importantly, he had learned something about life. It was decided, he would take on the name ‘Killer Steak’.

THE END

You had me going for a moment there, until Kansas. Everyone knows Kansas is the fictional army base in the Phil Silvers Show.

I thought his name was part of an ill-fated attempt to expand the silent “K” from “N” words like “knife” and “knight” over to “S” words, which was a terrible failure, but even so he still keeps trying to popularise that one word because he loves steak so much…
Sorry, “ksteak”.

——-

Back in the ‘90s I was a fearless ecco-warrior, the mightiest the world had ever seen. Japanese whalers and rainforest loggers quaked in their sweaty socks from the Amazon to the Zambezi!
I sailed the seven seas, standing proud on the prow of a green painted lanteen rigged schooner. My hemp shirt and golden dreadlocks flowing in the wind, my smelly sandals slowly smouldering with stink.
“Ocean Ozone” they named me and I wore that name like a badge of honour!

But then the French came after us and exploded my ship. It was a dark time. I went into hiding and cleverly changed my name to “Ozoneocean” so they’d never find me. Ever.

The word “soda” should be spelled with a k.

“Ksoda”. if you sound it out, it sounds like you just opened one.

What a fun idea!
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I won my name in a game of Russian Roulette with a close look-alike. It unfortunately came with loads of murderous baggage and an almost empty tube of classic red lipstick. On the bright side, my funeral was beautiful.
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(Lack of modern forensics)

Epic?

I picked Konspiracy because I'm a conspiracy nut, and it's the easiest alias to remember. End of story. xD