The Smol Internet is a bastion and hold out against the corporate capitalist hellscape that is the state of the modern internet. Indeed, there are pockets of the interenet out there where people are not commodities. Where there are thriving communities of actual humans creating actual things of beauty and building relationships with nothing but feelings and ones and zeros. From these sanctuaries, gardens, footholds, the Smol Internet rejects the slavering, jibbering beast that is big internet.
The Feed Gang is an loosely federated group of individuals responsible for creating, updating, and distributing resources and communications. You are conjurers and couriers. Kind of a mixture of a mailman, a town crier, and a newspaper reporter. You fight crime!
You are a really simple syndication... zard. You are emphatically decentralized. Reports of your death have been grossly exaggerated. You are in constant danger of being supplanted by competing standards of Rsszardry
I don’t know, you’re not RSS? A gifted sorcerer in your own right. You have largely surpassed the Rsszard
New kid on the block. Friendly, familiar, easy, but somehow unsupported. Armed with curly brackets and double quotes, you lack the ability to document yourself.
Despite being nearly universally renowned as a means of serialization, data transport and storage, and configuration, you have for whatever reason somehow not managed to really make a name for yourself as a feed member yet.
Special: You’re welcomed wherever you go.
You’re the original decentralized, federated protocol. You’ve been around the block more than a few times. They really broke the mold when they made you.
Special: You are fully capable of creating a snoop-proof, end-to-end “cone of silence” between two parties, regardless of distance, so the can communicate privately, as long as both parties meet ahead of time and physically exchange keys, or any other kind of appropriately small trinket that can be used to identify the sender.
You’re a real people person. A connector. You deliver content and notifications between people. People often confuse you for a micro-blogging platform. But that’s not what you are. You’re like the glue between those kind of platforms.
I don’t think you’re even really a protocol. You’re a plain text file on a server somewhere, free from constraint. Followers? Pah.
A tireless cataloger, you create directories and link documents. You’re the Web That Could Have Been and most people have forgotten about you. The younger kids have never even heard of you. But you never went away. You’re still here, cataloging away. You can get away with including text content in your carefully curated directories, but technically that’s a hack.
Special: you can see whitespace and have an aversion bordering on phobia to spaces. Tabs r best.
Look at you, scrappy young cosmonaut!
Special: You can’t handle in-line syntax. When you have content or a thought to deliver, you have to deliver the whole thing before allowing any follow-up.
A small public unix server, a calm harbor in a storm. Home to artists, hackers, and learners. Part of the larger tildeverse.
The one true chat protocol.
You are a historian, the chronicleer and herald.
Special: you can effortlessly and correctly recall any knowledge recorded in your logs
You really put yourself out there. What even are you? Don’t know, doesn’t matter: you are in draft form and you want comments.
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You can alter the very fabric of time. Rewind the last five events that happened, swap the order of two of them, and then replay the events forward.