Here's an in-universe greeting to our forum. Take what I say with a grain of salt, but enjoy it nonetheless.
You find yourself standing in the atrium of a great castle. A mosaic of light streams through stained glass windows bearing the visages of such great men as Socrates, Plato, Godel, Picasso, and Nietszche and creates bright, dappled pools the dim vastness. Two white-bearded old men argue unintelligibly over what looks like calculus, but could very well be abstract modern art. A cloaked figure emerges from the shadows, bearing a leather satchel with your name.
"Hail, traveler, and welcome to our quiet halls. You'll find a room down five doors and on your left-- mind the cobblestone floors, it's easy to stub your toe. The nights are a bit cold, drafty, and damp, but there's plenty of hot, crispy, succulent roast boar and cold, sweet, clear mead to wash it down. And, if I may be so bold, I recommend that someone so, and pardon my unintentional pun, alienated head down to our ramshackle mental hospital, whose creaky, scream-filled halls can be entered herein:
http://intpforum.com/forumdisplay.php?f=12. Our treatment may be a bit shabby, but we don't give up.
This place has a glorious history of titanic battles among the great knights of our order: Cognisant, Architect, Da Blob, and ProxyAmenRa, just to name a few. And in our finest hours, we've taken trophies: the heads of Norse Gods, the crimson blood of dreamers scorned, and the still-beating heart of a troll. Yet, if love a trade you seek, other manors may better able to help you.
INTP's often find love in the mysterious yet practical idealist: the INFJ. Flighty, yet warm, intelligent, yet intriguingly irrational, they steal our hearts and return them full of Aphrodite's dreamy drink. Their castle lies deep within the bowels of the earth, and we often exchange philosophical musings for hug potions-- if our trade caravans can survive the oft-itchy trigger fingers of their guards.
Not only do we interact with the dreamers, but with other rationals as well. The one-hundred story glass tower that you saw on the way in is a colony of ENTJ's; their very similar structure and yet different perspective on life have made trade and friendship with them both lucrative an interesting. Yet they are just as 'soulless' as we, and few have ever tried to mate with them-- a course I that highly recommend maintaining.
As a final detail, even we of the rational temperament can fall victim to our emotions. Try to remember that in your posts, as even a simple, "Alright, let's let this cool off for a few days" or "Oh, that must have hurt something awful; here's a dry shoulder, dude *hug* " can work wonders when another poster is angry or upset."
With a gentle nod and the wink of an eye, he hands you the satchel. Therein you find your room keys, cold, slippery slices of partridge carefully wrapped in parchment paper, a small, hearty loaf of bread, and a frosty glass bottle of water from the castle's spring.
"Just in case you decide to leave, let this be a gift from our order" interrupts the figure "Oh, and do dig deeper, you'll be pleasantly surprised."
Reaching further into the satchel's murky depths, you find a scroll on which is written in small, neat script, an oath:
The Thinker's Creed
In brightest day,
In darkest night
No falsehood shall escape my sight
Let those who worship Madness' might
Beware my power,
Pure logic's light!
The cloaked figure touches your shoulder and asks:
"Swear you this oath? For only through it shall you find Truth, be it in the Void or another code. In times of darkness, let it be your candle."
-Duxwing
That's like reading your first book and it's Far From the Madding Crowd....although we're a better choice 
Did you happen to write that old DOS-based text game, "Adventure"?
