This is the official website of the Really Nasty Bastards Freelancer Clan. You are not welcome. No-one is, for obvious reasons.
Explore our site, read our mission statement, read our profile. Then you will decide whether you are with us, or against us.



History

We are an established organisation, and have been since the beginning of time. In fact, make that 15 minutes before the beginning. Consider this. The universe, when it was created, was meant to be a happy place, where people could be at peace with themselves and one another. But there was a problem. A child was dropped in radioactive waste at the "Hull Happy Nuclear Bomb Joy Making Plant", and when he emerged, he had changed. The beta particles he was exposed to mutated his mind, and he became the first ever 'Bastard'. He dedicated his life to this subject, meditating on some weird lonely mountain. Hikers and climbers who ventured to close to his position were drawn into learning more from this extraordinary man, and he taught all those who asked it of him.

This man died at the age of 84, when after 56 years of him not buying a round of drinks for his students, he was murdered by those closest to him. But his ideals lived on, and around three generations later, at teatime, one apprentice Bastard had a revelation, which transformed him into pure energy, and he became what was later known to be the 'Real Bastard'. This being then travelled the world, and possessed others, who became Bastards themselves. His non-physical state allowed him to annoy ordinary happy people to the full; and the universe that was once so happy and full of joy became the universe we know today. Whenever you lose your keys, the Real Bastard is at work. Whenever your mum finds your secret porn stash, the Real Bastard has struck again. Et cetera.

But there is yet one more chapter in the tale. How, do you ask, did 'Really Nasty Bastards' come about? Well, the Real Bastard was doing all he could to spread misery around the globe, but there was one place where his powers were not strong enough to penetrate. On-line games. Even though the real world was full of deceit and suffering, game players were enjoying an Eden over the net. Something had to be done. The Real Bastard went back to the weird lonely mountain that he had left millenia ago, and recruited the most evil, repulsive, and twattish to spread havoc over the net community. Well, those that had their own computer, anyhow.

They are the elite. They are the chosen ones. They are the Really Nasty Bastards. Fear them.