COMINT (short for “Communications Intelligence,” “COMINTERN,” or both, whichever you’d prefer) is a low-tech social/comms server for a small invite-only community. if you want to join, you’ll need to ask a member you know to vouch for you to the admins.
we offer the following services to our members, most of them integrated into our central authentication system and accessible with your master account name and password.
@comint.suaddresses – no webmail, no ads, no gimmicks, just good old-fashioned IMAP and SMTP like
please note that we are not a filehoster; if you just want to upload blobs of data to the internet, please use 0x0.st instead. at this time we enforce no quotas of any kind and simply trust our users to make reasonable use of our limited space, but that will change if it becomes a problem. log into the control panel to manage your services and see which ones you’re authorized for.
we also offer several services that either have not yet been integrated into the central authentication system or which cannot be so integrated for architectural reasons. if you wish to make use of any of these, just ask an administrator on IRC or email and we’ll get you set up.
we’re also planning to upgrade our personal web hosting services to allow for dynamic websites and applications through a lightweight and idiosyncratic platform that will support Lua at the very least, but likely also s7, Raku, and some other languages. SQL databases will be available upon request.
if you’re a member and you think of a service you’d like us to offer, ask an admin and we’ll probably add it to the list. we’re not going to host any behemothine webshit like owncloud or mattermost, though.
if you have concerns about our users or their activities and wish to report them the administrators, paint the ancient Seal Script character for mournful yearning on the old barn door, then when the full moon rises into the sky, wander deep into the forest and whisper your complaint in the Forgotten Tongue of the Salamanders to the red-eyed owl that alights on your shoulder at exactly the stroke of midnight. as an anti-spam measure, we ask that you wash a small handful of smooth pebbles in the waters of the nearby brook (and there will be a brook), leave them at the roots of the Wandering Oak, and tell no one of your whereabouts that night, not even your most trusted servants, though even a hundred years should pass.