Leaderboard

Hi everyone, First and foremost, Happy New Year! We hope you all had a great time celebrating and spending time with loved ones over the month of December. Recently within the community there have been several threads offering thoughts, feedback, and opinions. We'd like you to know that Management are listening and changes are coming, thank you for being patient with us! As we enter the new year, we intend on regularly promoting the RAGE server in the run up to a relaunch date being announced. We recognise that updates and visibility have been limited for a period of time, and that hasn’t gone unnoticed. Going forward, this will change. In the weeks ahead, we’ll be increasing the frequency of marketing material and communications, offering clearer insight into development progress and what’s being worked on behind the scenes. This ramp-up will continue steadily right up until release, ensuring the community is informed, aligned, and confident in the direction we’re taking. The development team ( @danut and @n0de101 ) have been churning out updates and fixes for the RAGE server with the help of our tester team and RAGE Insiders and we're looking forward to having this experience available for the wider community. Without further ado, here's our January Community Update: Illegal Faction Team We've had a rough month as IFC/T, as many of you are aware of - as a result of both the holiday period and the current state of the server, things have been slow all round. Following the resignation of two of our Illegal Faction Council members, we're currently considering a number of applications for the role of IFC. There's currently two roles to fill and while the applications are not currently closed; we're excited to announce that @SammyG has been added to the Illegal Faction Council to support IFC/T in rebuilding their structure and focus on supporting the community. We believe that his experience within the illegal roleplay scene will be a great asset to the team. Keep your eye on future announcements, as there's still some strong applicants being considered for the remaining role. I feel that there may be some expectations for us to address the recent discourse that many have seen across the forums and discord, however I feel as though enough has been said on this matter. We're hoping to leave the negativity in 2025, and have a productive and positive new year - onwards and upwards! To make it absolutely clear to the community, IFC/T will continue to support both RAGE and SAMP servers for as long as either or both exist and we've got some exciting things coming soon for both servers! If you've missed it, our wonderful SAMP developer @Robstrap has returned from holidays and already got cracking with a highly requested feature which is now in it's testing phase. You may have seen the below image in #snippets on the LSRP discord. This is a hefty addition to the server, we're excited to work out the kinks alongside the tester team. This feature will reduce the reliance on schemes and applications for the community to be able to participate in realistic drug roleplay without the paperwork. We will also be opening the Illegal Faction Team applications in the new year, so keep your eye out for the announcement if you'd like to get involved. The Illegal Faction Team play a pivotal role in shaping the direction of future updates and features. We encourage anyone interested in supporting SAMP and/or RAGE to get involved. I'd also like to acknowledge that there's not been our usual monthly newsletter, this is due to a number of things - the server is obviously pretty quiet currently and there's been little note-worthy faction activity aside from the unfortunate closure of some of our long standing official factions such as Eastside Hustler Crip. Currently IFC/T needs a lot of work internally before we can produce a significant update for the community. We appreciate all of the feedback we've received, and are hoping that with some time the community will see the changes and updates planned for the server. Staff Update Here are some of October's Key Metrics: There were a total of 678 reports handled There were a total of 399 help requests handled There were a total of 138 character applications handled Congratulations to our newly promoted staff members ... Senior Admin Danut Senior Tester SammyG - demiGee Welcome back to our returning staff members ... Game Admin Spanion

CRUISE - BY @bill dippolito WARD Michael didn’t intend on staying long. His mother had said ten minutes, maybe fifteen, and he believed her. Hospitals weren’t places you stayed in. They were places you passed through, whether you wanted to or not. He’d been dropped off with a paperback he wasn’t reading and instructions to sit still and be polite. He did both. The hallway lights were still on even though it was late. They hummed softly, the way lights only do when there’s nothing else making noise. The floor shined like it had been recently waxed, and Michael made a mental note to walk slower so his sneakers wouldn’t squeak. He hated the sound. It felt like announcing himself when he didn’t want to be noticed. He knew the room number already. He’d memorized it after hearing it once. He didn’t know why that felt important, but it did. He stood outside the door longer than necessary, staring at the name on the plastic placard like it might tell him something useful. It didn’t. When he finally went in, the first thing he noticed was the sound. Not talking. Not crying. Just machines. Steady. Confident. Doing something they’d done a thousand times before. His father was already awake. Or at least his eyes were open. Michael couldn’t tell the difference yet. His dad looked smaller than usual. Not weak. Just… condensed. Like someone had taken the version of him Michael knew and folded it in on itself. The blanket covered most of him, and the bed rails felt unnecessary, like they were there out of habit more than need. Michael stayed by the door at first. He wasn’t sure if he was allowed to sit. Nobody had told him what the rules were. He put his hands in his pockets and rocked slightly on his heels, waiting for something to happen. Nothing did. He pulled the chair over anyway. It made a soft scraping sound that felt too loud in the room. He sat down and kept his back straight, the way his father always told him to. He didn’t look directly at his face right away. That felt rude, somehow. “Hey, Dad,” Michael said. His father didn’t answer. The machine answered instead, beeping steadily, like it was marking time for him. Michael nodded to himself. That was fine. His dad wasn’t much of a talker anyway. He looked around the room. The TV was off. The window showed nothing but darkness and a few reflected lights from inside. Someone had put a cup of water on the tray table, but it hadn’t been touched. “They let me stay up late tonight,” Michael said after a while. “Because of this.” He waited. Nothing. “I got picked for shortstop,” he added. “Coach said I got good hands.” The machine kept doing its job. Michael shifted in his seat. His feet didn’t touch the floor, so he crossed his ankles and tried to sit still. He noticed his father’s hands resting on the blanket. They looked the same as always. Big. Familiar. That helped. He reached out and touched one, just briefly. It was warm. That surprised him more than it should have. “They said you gotta rest,” Michael said. “So I won’t stay long.” That part felt important. Like a promise. A nurse passed by the doorway and glanced in, then kept walking. Michael watched the shadow move across the floor and disappear. “I don’t like this place,” he said quietly. “It’s too clean.” He didn’t know why he said that. It just came out. He leaned back in the chair and stared at the ceiling, the same way his father was. The tiles were arranged in neat squares. Michael counted them until he lost track. After a while, he stood up. He didn’t know how long he’d been there, but it felt like enough. He straightened his shirt and rubbed his hands together, then leaned in closer. “I’ll come back tomorrow,” he said. “So you gotta wake up.” He waited a second longer than necessary, just in case. Nothing happened. Michael nodded once, like the conversation had ended properly, and turned toward the door. He paused with his hand on the handle and looked back one last time. His father hadn’t moved. The machine hadn’t changed. That was okay. Things didn’t always change right away. Michael stepped back into the hallway and let the door close behind him. The lights kept humming. The floor still shined. Somewhere down the hall, someone laughed softly. He walked toward the exit with his book tucked under his arm, already thinking about how he’d tell his dad everything again tomorrow, the same way, in case this time it worked. WARD (P2) The next day didn’t feel like a next day. It felt like the same one, stretched thin and laid back over itself. The sky outside the hospital was brighter, but the light didn’t seem to reach inside. The hallway lights were still on. They always were. Michael came back with his mother this time. She held his hand tighter than usual, like she was afraid he might wander off even though he never did. She smelled like perfume she only wore for important things. Funerals. Weddings. Hospital visits that weren’t supposed to turn into something else. William was already there. He stood when they arrived, straight-backed, jacket still on even though the room was warm. He nodded once at Michael, then leaned in to kiss their mother on the cheek. Nobody said much. Words felt unnecessary now. Everything that needed saying had already been said the day before, even if nobody realized it yet. Richard looked the same. That was the strange part. Michael expected something to be different. Worse, maybe. Or better. But his father was still there in the same way. Eyes half-open. Chest rising shallowly. The machine still doing the talking for him. Michael took the same chair as before. He noticed it immediately. Same scrape against the floor. Same spot beside the bed. It felt important to sit where he’d sat last time, like moving would change something. His mother sat on the other side and took Richard’s hand with both of hers. She didn’t cry. Not yet. She just watched his face, studying it like she was trying to memorize it without knowing why. William stood at the foot of the bed for a while, arms crossed loosely, eyes fixed on the monitor. He looked calm. Michael knew better. William always looked calm when things were already decided. A nurse came in and checked a few things. Adjusted a dial. Smiled softly at Michael and his mother. The smile didn’t stick around long. It never did. When the nurse left, the room settled again. Michael swung his legs slightly, then stopped. He folded his hands in his lap and waited. That seemed to be the theme of the place. Waiting for machines. Waiting for signs. Waiting for someone else to tell you what was happening even when you already knew. His mother leaned closer to Richard. “I’m here,” she said quietly. “We’re all here.” Her voice cracked on the last word, but she didn’t let it break. Michael leaned forward too. He didn’t know why. It just felt like something you did. “Hey, Dad,” he said again. This time felt different. Not heavier. Just final in a way he didn’t have a word for yet. The machine kept beeping. Slower now. Michael noticed it without understanding what it meant. William stepped closer. He rested a hand lightly on the bed rail. He didn’t look at Michael or their mother. He watched Richard instead, like he was waiting for instructions that weren’t coming. The beeping slowed again. Michael felt it before he saw it. The room tightening. The air changing. His mother squeezed Richard’s hand harder, her thumb moving gently over his knuckles. Richard’s chest rose once more. Then again. The second time took longer. Michael held his breath without realizing it. The machine hesitated. Just for a second. Then it made a different sound. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just wrong. A nurse came in quickly this time. Then another. They spoke in low voices. Calm voices. Professional voices. Hands moved. Dials turned. Someone said his father’s name like it might still matter. Michael watched Richard’s face the whole time. It didn’t change. At some point, the nurse stopped moving. She looked at the clock on the wall and said a time. Michael didn’t remember it later. Numbers didn’t stick when they didn’t mean anything yet. The machine was quiet now. His mother leaned down and pressed her forehead gently against Richard’s hand. That was when she cried. Not loudly. Just enough to make it real. William closed his eyes once. Just once. Then he opened them again. Michael stayed seated. He waited for something to happen. For his father to move. To cough. To open his eyes wider and look at them like this was all a mistake. Nothing did. Eventually, a nurse put a hand on Michael’s shoulder and told him they were sorry. He nodded, because nodding seemed like the right thing to do. He stood when his mother stood. He followed when William turned toward the door. Before they left, Michael looked back one last time. Richard looked peaceful now. Smaller still. Like he’d finally stopped holding himself together. Michael didn’t cry in the hallway. He didn’t cry in the elevator. He didn’t cry in the car. He held his book tight against his chest and stared out the window as the hospital got smaller behind them. Somewhere deep down, in a place he wouldn’t understand for years, something settled into him quietly. Things didn’t always change right away. Sometimes they just stopped. WARD (P3) Two years later, Michael learned how to walk without making noise. It wasn’t something anyone taught him. It just happened. His footsteps softened on their own. He learned where floors creaked and where they didn’t. He learned how to stand still long enough that people forgot he was there. Grief did that. It made you smaller. Quieter. Easier to miss. The house felt different now. Not emptier. Just unfinished. Like a room where someone stopped painting halfway through and never came back. His mother kept things clean. Too clean. She filled the silence with routine. Dishes. Laundry. Television left on for company. William came by when he could, but William was always somewhere else even when he was there. Michael spent a lot of time outside. He walked. A lot. Not aimlessly. Just… forward. He liked the feeling of motion without destination. It made the days easier to stack together. He knew the name by heart. Alan Camuso. It lived in his head the same way his father’s voice used to. Not loud. Not constant. Just present. A shape you didn’t see until you turned the light off. Michael didn’t know why he started looking. Only that one day he did. Addresses weren’t hard if you listened. Adults talked more than they thought. Names floated through rooms. Numbers got written down and forgotten. Michael paid attention. He always had. The house was nicer than he expected. Not big. Just confident. Tucked into a quiet neighborhood where nothing ever seemed to happen. The kind of place where people left porch lights on and trusted they’d still be there in the morning. Michael stayed across the street. There was a low wall he could sit on without being seen. He rested his elbows on his knees and waited. Waiting was something he understood now. Hospitals taught you that. So did funerals. So did growing up around adults who never told you the whole truth. The sun was already low. The sky was doing that thing where it pretended everything was fine right before it went dark. The sliding door opened. Alan Camuso stepped out onto the patio like he owned the air around him. Older than Michael remembered, or maybe just more real now that Michael knew what he was looking at. He wore a collared shirt, sleeves rolled up. Comfortable. At home. Michael didn’t move. For a second, nothing happened. Alan looked out into his yard, one hand on the doorframe. He inhaled, slow, like someone who thought they were alone. Then the shadow behind him shifted. It was subtle. Just a shape where there hadn’t been one before. A person stepping forward without sound. Close enough that it felt impossible Michael hadn’t noticed them sooner. The wire came up quick. There was no speech. No warning. Just the sudden change in the air when something irreversible begins. Alan’s hands went to his throat immediately. Instinct. His feet scraped against the concrete as he tried to turn, tried to see who was there. The wire tightened. Clean. Efficient. Personal without being emotional. Michael watched. He didn’t cover his eyes. He didn’t look away. He noticed small things instead. The way Alan’s heels dragged. The way the patio chair tipped over and didn’t make as much noise as it should have. The sliding door rattling softly in its frame. The figure stayed close. Calm. Patient. Like this was something they’d done before. Like this was something that needed doing. Alan’s movements slowed. His hands fumbled, then dropped. His body sagged forward, held up only by the person behind him until it wasn’t anymore. When it was over, the figure lowered him to the ground instead of letting him fall. That part stuck with Michael. The care of it. The decision. The shadow retreated the same way it came. Quiet. Unremarkable. The sliding door stayed open, letting warm light spill out onto the patio like nothing had happened. Michael stayed where he was. His heart didn’t race. That surprised him. He thought it might. Instead, it felt steady. Heavy, but steady. Like it had finally found a rhythm it recognized. After a while, he stood. He didn’t cross the street. He didn’t go closer. He didn’t need to. He’d seen enough. He turned and walked the way he’d come, hands in his pockets, steps soft against the pavement. The neighborhood stayed quiet. Somewhere behind him, a porch light flicked on automatically as the sky finished going dark. Michael kept walking. That night, when he got home, the house was still clean. Still unfinished. His mother asked him how his day was. He said “fine” and meant something close to it. In his room, he lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling. Things didn’t always change right away. Sometimes they caught up to you years later, stepped out of the dark, and wrapped themselves tight around what you’d been carrying all along. Michael closed his eyes. For the first time in a long while, the quiet didn’t feel empty. WARD (P4) A month passed before anyone said Michael’s name out loud. By then, the neighborhood had learned how to talk about Alan Camuso without really talking about him. People lowered their voices. They said things like such a shame and you never know these days. Police cars came and went. Tape went up, came down. Life practiced moving on. Michael noticed who stopped making eye contact. He noticed who watched him walk past a little too closely. He noticed the woman two houses down who had curtains that twitched when he passed, even though she pretended to be folding laundry every time. That was how it started. They came for him on a Wednesday. Late afternoon. The sun still out, but tired. Two men in plain clothes this time. Polite. Careful. They spoke to his mother in soft voices, like volume alone could soften what they were about to do. “Just a few questions.” Michael put on his jacket without being told. The station smelled like old coffee and disinfectant. It wasn’t dramatic. No bright lights. No slammed doors. Just a small room with a table that had been wiped too many times and chairs that didn’t quite match. They didn’t handcuff him. That was intentional. One of the detectives sat across from him. Mid-forties. Tired eyes. The kind of face that had learned how to look sympathetic without feeling it. The other leaned against the wall, arms crossed, pretending not to watch. They started easy. Name. Age. Where he lived. School. Michael answered without hesitation. He’d learned that pauses invited interest. “You like to walk,” the detective said eventually. Not a question. Michael nodded. “Sometimes.” “Neighbors say they’ve seen you around. That night. Near Mr. Camuso’s house.” Michael shrugged. Small. Controlled. “I walk a lot.” The detective slid a photo across the table. Grainy. A still from a security camera down the block. A figure in a jacket. Head down. Passing through the frame. “That you?” Michael looked at it. Really looked. Then nodded. “Probably.” “Where were you going?” “Nowhere.” The second detective shifted his weight. The room creaked slightly. Michael clocked it. File cabinets settled like old bones. “You see anything strange that night?” the first detective asked. His voice stayed gentle, like the answer didn’t matter. Like this was just routine. Michael shook his head. “No voices? No arguments? No one coming or going?” “No.” They waited. Silence was a tool. Michael understood that now. He’d lived in it long enough to know when to let it sit. “You didn’t hear anything from the patio?” the detective pressed. “Didn’t see anyone else around?” Michael met his eyes. “No.” The detective studied him for a moment. Not suspicious. Curious. Like Michael was a puzzle piece that didn’t quite belong to this box. “You’re sure?” Michael nodded again. Same motion. Same size. He kept his hands folded in his lap. Still. “I didn’t see anything about how Alan Camuso died,” he said. The words were careful. Accurate. They let him go not long after that. No threats. No warnings. Just a reminder to come back if he remembered anything. Michael walked home alone. The sky was the same color it had been that night. That false calm blue. He paid attention to his steps. Made sure they didn’t echo. Made sure they didn’t matter. He didn’t tell William about the station. Not right away. WARD (P5) The woods were different. They always were. The trees didn’t ask questions. They didn’t lean in when you spoke. They stood where they stood and expected you to do the same. Michael liked that. Hunting had been their thing since before everything else broke. Before hospitals. Before funerals. Before names like Camuso meant anything at all. It was routine, but not empty. Something inherited. Something earned. William walked ahead of him, rifle slung easy over his shoulder. He moved like someone who knew exactly where his feet were going to land before they did. Michael followed, quieter now than he’d ever been before. They didn’t talk at first. They never did. The woods filled the space for them. Leaves under boots. Wind through branches. Somewhere far off, a bird startled and corrected itself. They stopped near a clearing. William crouched, checking the ground. Tracks. Signs. Things Michael was still learning to see without being shown. After a while, William spoke. “You been walking more,” he said. Not looking back. Michael nodded. “Yeah.” William straightened slowly. Took his time. “Cops come by?” Michael hesitated. Just a second. “Yes.” William didn’t react right away. He just adjusted the strap on his rifle, eyes scanning the tree line like the answer had changed the shape of the woods. “What’d you say?” William asked. Michael watched a leaf spiral down from above, catching the light before it hit the ground. “Nothing.” William finally turned to look at him. Not angry. Not relieved. Just steady. “Good,” he said. They walked again. Deeper this time. Far enough that the road noise disappeared completely. Far enough that the world felt old again. They stopped near a fallen log. Sat. Ate in silence. Michael chewed slowly, listening to the way sound died out here. William broke the quiet again. “People think talking makes things lighter,” he said. “Like if you give something away, it weighs less.” Michael didn’t look at him. “But that ain’t how it works,” William continued. “You talk, it don’t disappear. It just moves. Lands somewhere else. On someone who didn’t ask for it.” Michael nodded once. William picked up a stick, snapped it clean in half. The sound was sharp. Final. “There’s a difference between surviving and living,” William said. “And rats don’t do either. They just last. And not long.” Michael swallowed. “You see something you weren’t supposed to,” William went on. “You carry it. Quiet. That’s the price. You don’t put it on the table for people who don’t care what it costs you.” Michael finally looked at him. William met his eyes. The bond between them didn’t need words, but William used them anyway. Carefully. Like placing rounds in a magazine. “Family first,” William said. “Always. Even when nobody tells you that’s what you’re choosing.” The woods pressed in around them. Protective. Patient. Michael exhaled slowly. “I didn’t say anything,” he said. William nodded. Once. Satisfied. “Good,” he repeated. They sat there a while longer. No rush. No need to fill the space. When they stood to leave, Michael noticed something else. His footsteps didn’t make a sound at all now. And for the first time, he understood that silence wasn’t just something you endured. It was something you learned to carry.

#FREEVORONOV https://community.ls-rp.com/forums/topic/32023-freevoronov/?tab=comments#comment-312459

Valenti's Right Hand; A Luno Story With Respect

SOUTHSIDE TERRORISTS

I trolled here and there but Valenti made history on this server since it's initial inception Part of me, in many ways, wishes I would of gave it a shot in it's prime

The end of an era

Props to the realest and to my man Blaz, Tocilo sends his regards 🙂

It was an honor to keep Santino’s legacy alive.💰🔪🚬

Some old screenshots from around 2011 I was able to come across.

Voronov's out on bail. Send him your love.

Great roleplayer. Better friend. I leave this song to you in his honour.

everybody's pitching in for the bail money he'll be out soon #FREEVORONOV

thats just gold

Charles Cefalu sends his regards.

c yah some other time fellas stay safe ❤️

Our lawyer will be providing the community with an official statement in the near future. We ask that people avoid speculation and respect Voronov's privacy during this difficult time.

Sad news. Free Voronov for real.

#FREEVORONOV

Crenshaw house #1 with garage and basement

Recruitment for the faction is done in-character, and you will be expected to follow the server rules while associating yourself with our image. Be respectful to those around you and dedicate yourself to your characters development within the faction. The aim of 38th Street is to create a realistic sureño environment in El Corona. The Discord is accessible for those who are interested in joining the faction, we're currently open to new members and encourage those who are looking for something fresh to try it out, if there are any questions feel free to contact @risen or connect to the Discord, where you can find some information about the faction and ask any questions you may have.

@Flip No day goes by where I don't think about you

Garage (with illegal firearm storage/assembly)

Idlewood trap

La Famiglia wishes you all a Merry Christmas!

Imperial Kutz, barbershop at El Corona

Shoutout to the dream team 💪

free my bro

1488

i once tried being a bartender, rick denoia hired me but i was too shy to rp with yall again, my english is not so LCN suited n my rp is kinda lame

Wow! Good job, guys.. This is worth returning to.. Looks very promising.

@SammyG congratulations!

congrats everyone and happy new year ❤️ teaser lookin fire

Merry Christmas! ❤️

Nice man!

Keep SAMP alive! This game got me through hard times

Hi everyone, November is done and we're heading into the most wonderful time of the year! The last community update of 2025 is here, and we can't believe how fast this year has flown by. It feels like 2025 has happened in a flash! It might feel a little early to be saying this, but a Happy Christmas to those celebrating. Without further ado, here's our December Community Update: Development Team SA-MP Update (/startshift): A new system is here to let you earn money working shifts at businesses across the city, rewarding you for your roleplay in both player-owned and server-owned businesses. It'll be added to the server upon server restart within the next day/two however in preparation, here’s a quick guide on how it works: Player-Owned Businesses: If a player owns the business, only they (or high-ranking employees) can manage who works there. You must be an employee of the business and the business owner/manager must grant you the "Start Shift" permission. Once you have permission, go inside the business and type /startshift to begin earning! Once you're done and want to clock out, you can /leaveshift. If you decide to leave the premises of your workplace, you'll be automatically removed from the shift after 5 minutes. For Business Owners: You cannot use /startshift at your own business. This system is for your employees to use. Use /setshift to set the hourly pay and the maximum number of people who can work simultaneously (the "limit"). You can grant or revoke the "Start Shift" permission for any employee if you have the Modify Powers rank/permission. Be aware that the funds to pay your staff gets taken from your business cash-box, keep this topped up or risk some unhappy staff members! Server-Owned Businesses: These are businesses that the server owns (e.g., they have no character owner). If the server has enabled shifts for the business, you can use /startshift inside the building to begin working! If you decide to leave the premises of your workplace, you'll be automatically removed from the shift after 5 minutes. It'll take us a little time once the update is live to manually set each individual server-owned business to be used for /startshift. Keep an eye out on the forums and Discord for more updates on what areas have been handled; if there's a server-owned business that you'd like to make sure is added quickly, please reach out to a member of Commerce & Estate team with the business ID to speed things up. Illegal Faction Team It's been a relatively quiet month for the Illegal Faction Team, however as we go into the holiday period and the server slows down a little we want to continue to make sure we are still constantly providing whatever the server needs to maintain activity. As of late, there's been an increased interest in prison roleplay which we're always excited to see. As a response, we've opened our Prison Scheme & would like to remind anyone who wishes to roleplay long-term prison or parole to reach out to us for support if you'd like to be set up OOCly with either parole/prison time. We recommend anyone interested in getting involved to check out the forum threads for the White Car/Sureno Car and Black Car. We still have plenty of schemes available for both factions and solo players so if you do believe you or your faction might be a good fit for these please submit your application, or reach out the Illegal Faction Team with any queries you may have. We've been working alongside the development team, as usual to brainstorm ideas for future features and we're hoping to continue these discussions into December. As always if you have an idea that you would like to bring forward for possible implementation, please reach out to one of the members of Faction Team Council to assist with a discussion. We're also relaunching our furnishing competition, which was a great success last run. If you're interested in participating again - or for the first time - take a look at the thread and hit us up with your application! Once again, the winner will be awarded 2,000 UCP credits along with runner-up and participation rewards. Your application must be in by 7th December to be in with a chance at winning! With holiday season underway, even if you don’t celebrate it, The Illegal Faction Team hope you enjoy the month of December with your loved ones, friends and family. Remember to keep an eye out for our Illegal Faction Newsletter within the next week for a more detailed overview of the work going on behind the scenes to support the illegal roleplay community. Staff Update Here are some of October's Key Metrics: There were a total of 1497 reports handled There were a total of 1161 help requests handled There were a total of 266 character applications handled Congratulations to our newly promoted staff members ... Senior Admin Meri - Slice Game Admin husoparac11 Welcome back to our returning staff members ... Senior Tester DadoJ See you in 2026 for the next one!

* Word on the street, G-Money drops a new track roasting all his fake friends and haters.

* G-Money drops another hit about his recent events.