404 The Cursed Fourth Alt

2005-08-02T19:37:11Z

I feel like I've gone through fifteen thousand, eight hundred and thirty six different fourth alts. Every one of them, even the ones I've tried to play as severely limited, shorn off from their backgrounds, have just not hit it off with me. Buck, Karrie and Mod have never finished showing off their breadth as characters to me, but I've never felt a fourth character that's been as deep.

But it's been an experience to play so many people and I'm glad I was offered the chance to have so many of these other alts. However, three characters is not enough, and there's still something I'm missing out on. All my characters are severely tied to one location. With Buck it's Interpron. With Karrie it's Otissa. With Mod it's the Land of Disguises. They can't wander like a lot of other characters can, not tied down to any big personal plots or voyages of self discovery or self aggrandizement. And also someone who's not too innocent to be kinky.

I'm thinking my fourth alt will be from Bottomwarp. That place needs lovin'.

mind_not_found @ 2005-07-25T23:52:00

2005-07-26T03:49:10Z

Things that happen on Puzzlebox that don't really happen too often anywhere else. For those special, unique, and frequently amusing moments that happen on PBX that you won't find on your regular, everyday MUCK.

Strange Land

2005-07-06T05:46:03Z

Strangewarp needs a little love, doesn't it? A little lightening up.

I think I have a good idea for it:

A theme park! Complete with rides, entertainment, games, cotton candy, fountains in flower gardens and costumed mascots. Yes, I think that could be interesting.

Archipelago revisited (ahem, promo, ahem)

2005-06-22T06:26:02Z

This is being cross-posted! I'm posting it here because honestly there are some really great RPers on PBX and we'd love to see some cross-over. Someone of you may have already heard me harping on about this MUCK project, but everything I've said before can be scrapped, just forget about it, because we've started anew, bigger and better than before. Smaller, actually, but still better. Keep in mind that PBX and Archipelago are two wildly different types of MUCK with way different artist's statements, there might be the off chance that someone reading this might find this stuff cool, here it is.

It's time to get new players for Archipelago MUCK. The MUCK's not quite done yet, but we've got enough set up so that RP can actually happen there. But right now we're looking for players who wouldn't mind showing up there on a hopefully frequent basis. Let me just give you the run-down, in case you haven't been following along.

The world of Archipelago is a purgatory for literature of all sorts, where ideas go when they're forgotten and there's no way they'll be found. Mythology, poems, histories, all wind up in the eternal waters of the Archipelago.

Now, the people living there, they don't know any of this. If you told them this, they'd think you were crazy. See, they're just regular people, living out their regular lives with their regular, at least to them, houses.

The story that happens here deals with a group of five islands, four densely populated, one abandoned and fenced off.

The island of Bishop Grove is dark an ominous, but where science and research plans to carry it out of its murky depths so it can shrug off its occultist mythology. But its occultist mythology isn't too happy with that; zombies roam, vampires and werewolves hunt, and strange, indescribable beasts stalk the wastes of marshes that cover half the island. Industry rears its ugly head in this developing land.

To the South-East, the island of Suthain Coill, in the midst of a cultural battle between the magic-using traditionalists, religious zealots and the pressures of bowing to capitalism. Its city of Clachbaile, full of living statues and its magical spring, sets the stage for its resistance to gentrification, and attempts to upset its milquetoast ruler and patron god.

To the South-West of that is the city of Menhir, skyscrapers from end to end. As the most technologically advanced and amoral of the islands, they gladly hold the tempting light of progress over the other islands. It's full of out-of-control corporations, crime worn neighbourhoods, gritty robots, lying politicians, and mutant survivors of a nuclear accident which has crippled a portion of the vast city.

North-West of that is the bizarre, unexplainable island of Lucidia, who oddly enough doesn't feel the pressure put on it by Menhir. It has its own problems. With the rise in power of its principal deity, who seized power over the island, the island's once native cartoon population has been marginalized to the town of Beantown, while a vast hallucinatory desert has been growing out from the city of Daliaria.

Trapped in the center of all four islands is a small crop of land only known as Museum Island after the ruins of an ancient museum were found on it. It threatens to tell a lot more about the Archipelago than it should. It's currently fenced off, its land owned by a real-estate corporation that plans to bulldoze the ruins and lay a housing development on top.

Currently in the Archipelago's stormy season, wedged between spring and summer, the bridges that connect the four main islands are prone to constant closure, limiting travel and confining people to whatever island they happen to be on at the time. In reality, this is because some of the areas aren't even built yet, but it doesn't make sense to close the entire MUCK because of this.

Until we have the website up, I'll have to post the themes here:

1) Small World, Strange People, Ordinary Lives

Primarily we're aiming for a casual, social RP style MUCK. We aren't that interested in epic characters or the grand struggles each island is going for, we're interested in how the individual characters react to each other and to the world that surrounds them. The characters may be strange, surreal, but they have jobs and motivations and might not aspire to more than getting closer to their dads or learning to paint.

2) Politics

In terms of story, Archipelago will deal with lots of political themes. With gods and goddesses that are very much alive on some islands participating in photo-ops with the suits, revolutionary terrorists attacking industry with magic, the undead demanding representation in government, politics are tumultuous, nay, chaotic and a constant source of conflict. Players are encouraged to play xenophobic, cantankerous, rude characters and to create as much inter-island conflict as they want. We revel in political conflict.

3) Archaeology

As it arises, delving into the history of each island and the world that surrounds them, and uncovering the greater conflict, is a third theme to be explored. The exploration of ruins, uncovering secret tunnels and rescuing artifacts all may play a role in this theme. Perhaps there might even be big surprises.

Now if such a place interests you, we're ready to accept applications, on a limited basis, since we're lacking a lot of the functionality we'd like to have (we're working on that, honestly). We also aren't very newbie-friendly yet, we don't have guest services set up or good documentation. However, the application isn't very long, or demanding. Here are the things we want to know:

Character Name: This is your character's full name. Really this is unimportant, but we ask for it anyway.
Character Alias: This is what shows up as the character's name on the MUCK. Generally, this is just a first name or nickname.
Character Description (physical) (20 words or less): A bit on what your character looks like.
Character Background (20 words or less): Where your character comes from and the main things in their past.
Monologue (subject: magic) Your character is spontaneously asked off the street and asked to talk a bit about the subject of magic by a reporter and his cameraman. Interpret the theme how you wish, but have your character talk in their own voice. It doesn't have to be a long monologue, just a paragraph or two, but it should say a thing about your character's beliefs and personality (and less importantly your ability to write).

Send it in to archipelagomuck@gmail.com and we'll get back to you soon. Hopefully.

If you've never MUCKed before, that's okay, you can still apply, just say so in your application and I'll show you the ropes.

This is going to be x-posted a bunch of places, mainly here because I have a rather good audience.

PS: you don't need to send in an application, you can contact me over AIM at the SN prangton and we can do it interview-style.

Funky

2005-03-24T22:28:52Z

Still in a funk, trying to come up with some sort of character I can play that's light, easy on the imagination, and friendly. That is to say, a character that's not really cool.

So far I've been drawing blanks though. I'm not sure how to react to the MUCK anymore.

Edit: I think I have an idea! It's low-key, low-risk, but probably fun to play. More of a participation character than a starting-things character as I tend to play. It's not quite original, as far as PBX characters go, and it's not pushing any limits, but man, at this point, who cares, right? :)

TTD

2005-01-12T03:08:40Z

Things to do:

- Find some way to make Buck bisexual
- Give Mod some semblance of a soul again
- Try to actually get myself back into the PBX swing!

Eljayvirus

2004-07-14T07:36:06Z

Well here's a bit of activity, since even though I'm currently not doing much on PB I still check PBnews from time to time and exposition is always a fun game.

"I want everyone who reads this to ask me (or any of my characters, NPCs, etc.) 3 questions, no more, no less. Ask me anything you want. I will answer them honestly (within reason). Then I want you to go to your journal and copy and paste this, allowing your friends to ask you anything, which you must answer honestly."

You can specify who's doing the asking, if you so desire.

Another break

2004-07-11T06:04:00Z

I've been taking another break from PB trying to set other things, mostly RL things, in order. Who knows how much longer it'll last?

End of the dream

2004-06-25T22:44:40Z

Mel muses, "What sort of vehicle?"
Karrie holds the piece up to the light. "Mine." It glints.

Mel muses, "Do you often dream of yourself before your compliance to the Otissan life?"
Karrie replaces the piece, and pulls another from the same ring. "What do you mean?" xe asks in xer dreamy sing-song voice.
Mel moves a finger down Karrie's neck line and across the body's chest.
Karrie looks at Mel without a clear reaction. Just stares at him.
Mel muses, "If this is your vehicle, Karrie... what is transporting you right now?"
Karrie replaces the machine part in the ring. "I'm not sure I understand the question."

Mel muses, "You seem to be completely ignoring the presence of your body. I shouldn't expect less of an Otissan, should I?"
Karrie frowns, "Why should that matter? You're so tied up on what things ARE, Mel."
Mel muses, "It's a matter of your perceptions, not my focus. You have to ask yourself what you're seeking when you're in a setting such as this, full of subjective symbols. Specifically, why Gr'Gorr sent you -- well, us -- here."

Karrie looks at the rings for a long time...

Karrie mutters, "The Museum..."

Mel muses, "I know. I recognize the theoretical conjectured shape all too well. For what purpose in this shape, I do not know."
Karrie sees something through the rings. Xe walks around, and bends down close to the ground. "Look, look at this."
Mel gathers towards the point Karrie has drawn attention to.
There's a cluster of large, bulbous mushrooms growing there, amid a pile of trash.
Mel rubs the top of one. "I'm not convinced this place isn't somewhere between Strange and Down."
Karrie grabs Mel's wrist, "Don't touch it!" xe gasps, "It could be poisonous."
Mel casts askance at Karrie, "Generally only if eaten."
Karrie lets go of Mel's wrist, and stands up again. "Let's go further. I feel uncomfortable here."
Mel muses, "I doubt that feeling is going to pass easily... This whole setting is unsettling."

Mel looks around for something of promise to move towards.
Karrie walks toward an old junky car that's parked a bit off-kilter on the side of a knoll.
Mel muses, "Do you know what you might be looking for?"
Karrie opens the door, "Can you drive?"

Mel looks inside. "I... don't think I've ever had to operate a vehicle before. The knowledge of it is outside my abilities."
Mel muses, "I could give it a go, though. Might be good for a laugh."

Karrie sits in the passenger seat, and brushes the dust off the armrest. "I'd like to get as far from here as possible."
Mel sits in the driver's seat and stares at the dash for inspiration.
Mel muses, "Let's see... this... no, the motor should be running. Which means... okay, this must be ignition..."
Mel muses, "...wonder if this has a clutch or not."

Karrie looks longingly out the window. The car seems to already be speeding down a motorway.
Mel muses, "I'm better at this than I remember."

Karrie sighs, and turns to Mel to ask, "Where are we going?"
Mel muses, "On some sort of metaphysical, spiritual journey of self-discovery within your mind. Or towards the horizon on this road. Matter of levels."

Karrie points, "Look up ahead, there's a city!"
Mel peers at the shapes on the horizon. "Perhaps there'll be something more clear of a path."
Karrie says, "Yes, perhaps things won't be so dead there."
Mel rolls down the window on his side.
Karrie does the same. Xer fur gets blown around by the sudden wind. "How much longer until we get there?"
Mel muses, "I can't really tell. Whenever it becomes appropriate.... Do you have anything you want to discuss?"

Karrie says, "I'm... do you know why I asked that you come?"
Mel muses, "It is because you love me?"

Karrie says, "There... have been things happening to me..." xe pauses, "Ever since I made a trip to the Museum. In dreams."
Mel muses, "I'm both a good and bad influence. I've introduced chaos into your life."
Karrie stares wistfully off into the distance. "Do you believe in extrasensory abilities, Mel? I mean, unassisted by technology."
Mel muses, "Well it depends on what level you call assisted by technology. It's possible, I think, to have the flesh attuned to senses that are uncommon, thusly 'unassisted' at that point."

Mel muses, "So what is with this new deep need to understand the Neo-Boreals? Are you unhappy with your life as an enlightened state of head?"
Karrie says, "I needed to have help, I thought they'd help me understand these... sensations. These lapses of deja-vu, and these, these precognitive dreams."
Mel muses, "I put you in touch with the voice of Eon, I suspect."
Mel muses, "The whispering future, as it were."

Karrie frowns, "I want it to stop. I want things to go back to the way before, where I knew what happened in the present and the past."
Karrie bangs xer fist on the dash, "The future is not meant to be known!"

Mel muses, "I don't know if it can be undone, Cassandra."

Karrie suddenly looks ice cold. "What did you call me?"

Mel muses, "We're here..."
Mel muses, "The future has already arrived."

Karrie looks outside. The car has stopped.

Karrie slowly steps out of xer side. Why does that name seem so... familiar?
Mel gets out on his side, hands on the open window frame, supporting, looking about for traffic. Satisfied, he steps out onto the street and wanders around the front of the car towards the sidewalk side.
Karrie, in a daze, somnambulates vertiginously.

Mel wanders over to Karrie and offers some stability. "I wonder what this city has to offer."
Karrie is grim-faced. "I want answers... If this is a dream, we should go to someplace that's... loaded with symbols."
Mel muses, "Like a graffiti covered wall? Or perhaps a library or museum would be better, though I'm not sure how likely that is in this sort of dismal oubliette of a place."

Karrie leans against Mel and stops. "Look at this store."
Mel muses, "I don't know if we can do more than window shop..."
Karrie presses xer face to the window, looking down inside. "Why are all these dead plants in here? This is a very creepy store."
Mel looks up at the sign.
Karrie looks up as well. "What is it?"
Mel muses, "Inscrutable."
Mel muses, "Depending on the climate, it could be 20-100 years old."

Karrie furrows xer brow. "Oh."

Karrie stands back, that name, that name, that... xe gasps. "Mel, look over there. That name you called me by is on that building."
Mel muses, "It might be a cafe..."
Mel wanders down the sidewalk.

Mel peers in the window. "No... They sell optics."
Karrie follows along behind Mel, xer tail slowly swishing behind xer. "Optics... Like lenses?"
Mel muses, "Telescopes. Cameras..."
Mel muses, "Looks like there's even ones like the one back at the factory."

Karrie tries the door.

Mel raises an eyebrow as the OPEN sign crackles to life the moment Karrie tugs at the door.

Karrie pokes xer head inside. "Hello?"
Mel muses, "I'm not certain anyone's been here for ages. Looks like the sign might have been jarred by you opening the door."
Karrie disappears as xe moves inside.
Mel follows, examining the shapes in the eerie neon glow, only the slightly crackling hum of the sign disturbing the silence.

Karrie is standing inside, at the desk, looking through a book. It's a photo album. Xe's shaking xer head incredulously... no, this isn't possible.
Karrie looks at Mel, there's tears in xer eyes. "You're doing this, aren't you?"

Mel looks over the photo album for a moment to assess the evidence.

It looks like photos of Karrie in xer youth, but... as a female, and Otissa, as well as any recognizable part of the Mess, is never seen once.

Mel flips the back of one of the photos. "This never happened, did it? It's chronophagia..."

Karrie puts the back of her hand to her nose and sniffles. Xe shakes xer head resolutely. Then stops. And it's as if the entire world stops with xer. "I get it now." xe whispers.
Karrie starts laughing.

Mel flips through the photo album, watching Karrie without looking at the pages as they go by.

Karrie continues laughing, louder and more wildly. "I get it now!" xe yells.
Karrie throws out xer arms, sending a radiating shockwave through the room that upsets boxes and blows papers around. "It's not REAL! It's all in my HEAD!"

Mel muses, "Yes. Now what shall you do about it?"

Karrie keeps laughing, though. "It's a DELUSION! It's all been a DELUSION!" xe screams, at the top of xer lungs as xe doubles over.

Karrie stands back up again, xer eyes glowing, and black swirling ink appears from xer forehead, tattooing xer body in sharp barbed patterns. Xe's smiling at Mel.
Mel tilts its head. "Make something good of it."

Karrie points at one wall, compelling it to go. In fires off into the distance, a black expanse of nothingness.
Karrie points to the other walls, making each of them, in turn, go away. Then the ceiling, and finally, the floor.
Karrie floats over to Mel, putting xer hands on his shoulders. "Dreams aren't real, Mel."
Mel hovers there, drawing luminescent filaments from hands and feet, connected to something at the apogee of its head. "They are the blueprints of reality."

Karrie hugs Mel.
Karrie says, "Thank you for being here."

Mel muses, "I am glad I could help... but there are still questions. We are in the care of the Neo-Boreals."
Karrie says, "Questions?"
Mel muses, "Yes... this journey is not simply one of casual exploration. Remember?"
Karrie says, "But I understand what I came here for."
Mel muses, "This is good. Do you understand why you are pursuing the Neo-Boreals though?"
Karrie says, "The photos weren't real! Neither was the deja-vu, the precognition..."
Karrie says, "The Neo-Boreals helped me find the way."

Mel muses, "Where to from here?"
Karrie says, "We can go."
Karrie smiles.

Mel muses, "I'll miss holding your hand."
Karrie holds onto Mel's hand. "One last time, then. It will be something we can share when we wake up."
Mel smiles at Karrie. "You've been with me forever."
Karrie says, "And we'll both be around for a long time."

Mel muses, "Our host is probably waiting."
Karrie heads toward the light, hand-in hand with Mel. "Come."
Mel follows Karrie.

The pods open up, spilling seeds onto the ground. A group of frogs picks them up, washes them in the water, and takes them away.
Mel holds one seed between thumb and forefinger with a peculiar smirking expression.
Karrie slowly opens xer eyes.

Mel looks around before stepping out of the pod.
Gr'gorr helps Mel out.
Mel muses, "Karrie may need a little more help than I."
Gr'gorr says, "One at a time."
Mel takes a rare breath. "I am fine."

Gr'gorr lifts Karrie from xer pod, and hands xer to Mel, without saying much.
Mel rubs the top of Karrie's head.

Mel considers Gr'gorr quietly.

Karrie sighs.

Karrie says, "Thank you."
Gr'gorr does a discrete hand signal.
Mel simply nods to Gr'gorr.

Karrie says, "Let's go, Mel. I need to rest for a bit."
Mel carries Karrie, allowing Gr'gorr to show the way.
Gr'gorr walks with great pomp toward the spiral iris doorway.
It uncurls, and Gr'gorr walks through.

Mel lifts Karrie up onto his shoulder, and moves through the portal.
Gr'gorr brings Mel and Karrie up to the surface, through the roots and dirt, and finally out into the musical air of the Night Gardens.
Mel lifts Karrie aloft and reassembles the Curator uniform in a whirlwind of purple and lavender leaves.
Gr'gorr simply disappears into the darkness.

Karrie sighs. "Take me home."
Mel muses, "But where is home now?"
Mel muses, "Besides, we have to retrieve your caretaker vehicle."

Karrie says, "Bring me back to Otissa. I have some things to explain..."

System vs. Mod

2004-06-25T05:39:22Z

Mod likes to tell crazy stories! I don't usually play Mod this lucid, but he usually ends up being the avatar for my philosophical meanderings.

Foolsmate says, "Greetings, all."
You say, "Hi!"
Ataxia seems to grin - its hard to tell, still. Her tail sweeps as she nods, bowing her head.. "Forgive me.." she starts, then pauses. Her voice is _loud_, probably louder than the mixed voices of Omni, unless its decided to truly match. She suffers from Klazomania, and basically screams all the time. She looks over to Leviathan, and.. all the rest suddenly, then instantates her chalkboard again. She writes to Omni.. 'My voice is enough to cause most much discomfort, unfortunately.'
Leviathan-chan says, "I see your work has paid off, Foolsmate."
Mod takes off his crown and looks at it, then spins it in the air so that it lands, still spinning, on his head.
Leviathan-chan crooks her neck and squints at Ataxia. "So, you're a kinda banshee?"
Foolsmate bows modestly. "Oh, this? It's nothing much, really."
Omni splatters in surprise and embarrassment. The query was for Ataxia. Wheen it recollects to a degree, a mouthhole forms and it synths, "Oh. Good Morning." The voices of the synth now include Ataxia, Leviathan-chan, Foolsmate, Mod, Kehari, and Blue, all speaking in unison.
Mod bows.
The gold mirror-blob swells into a pregnant sphere and then bursts to release Squizzle.
Leviathan-chan looks at the implosive round creature. "Ooh... I didn't mean to disrupt anything. Sorry about that."
Squizzle says, "Hello, everyone..."
Mod bows to Squizzle.
Leviathan-chan nods to Mod. "And you, Mod? How goes the catharsis?"
Leviathan-chan says, "Hihi!""
Foolsmate lifts a hand to wave to Squizzle.
Mod pulls out a clattery old brass lantern.
Squizzle looks over the lantern. "... Battery-powered?"
Mod's outer skin peels off, to be replaced with something darker... a black wolf wearing a wide-brimmed hat, a longcoat, knee-high boots and leather gloves.
Mod hefts the shining lantern to head-height. It clanks and dings as it swings back and forth. Everything around seems to get... darker.
Squizzle blink-blinks its bright red eyes in the shadows. "Light... darkness... contrast?"
Mod asks, in a raspy voice, "Have you heard of the cursed men and women?"
Lexia has arrived.
Lexia waves as she squeaks her way out of the green mirror
Leviathan-chan shivers. Somehow, she didn't expect a happy tale...
Mod rasps, "That live out eternity under the servitude of an occult Mistress?"
Squizzle glances up at Lexia from the shadows, and edges closer to Mod's lantern, yet still in deep shadow. "What mistress is that?"
Mod rasps
Mod rasps, "That mistress is cruel, and that mistress is strict."
Mod swings the lantern, "And Her name is Reality."
Mod rasps, "Her iron grip holds the minds of the weak, the cursed, doomed to forever live in the Real, to see beauty and say, this is not True, this is not Factual."
Mod rasps, "And upon the rise of the moon they do become Beasts, and the Beasts go forth and destroy all that is Unreal and Untrue, for the mistress has taught them the Art of Ego."

And then things get... contrary.

The blue mirror-blob swells into a pregnant sphere and then bursts to release System.
System nods as (he) emerges from the blue mirror. "Greetings, entities."
Mod swings the lantern again, "The Subjective becomes the Objective to the cursed."
Lexia giggles, and waves to System. "Hello!"
Mod nods to System, quickly. It's really dark in here, for some reason.
Leviathan-chan goes slanteyed. "How do you destroy the unreal?" "Oh, hey Sys."
Squizzle shudders guiltily, and looks away from Mod, bathed in darkness by the light.
Mod sniffs, "By denying that the Unreal exists."
System glances around, speaking in (his) precisely enunciated voice. "May I query anybody as to what is happening here?"
Foolsmate says, "Mod is telling a rather scary story."
Mod rasps, "The race of the cursed is well guarded, for they have built many castles and forts in the name of their Mistress. They watch the uncursed from the raparts, and pour upon them the burning oil of Reality."
System nods slightly, the light from (his) eyes showing an even brighter blue in the gloom.
System states quietly, "May I query who the cursed are, and who their mistress is?"
Mod restates, "Their Mistress, Reality, is cruel and vicious."
Lexia giggles, then squeaks her way over to System. "Things will be explained, don't worry. Mister Mod must be a good story teller."
System chuckles. "I suppose that I am then one of the cursed."
Mod rasps, his voice rising, "But the cursed ENVY the uncursed! They see their freedom, unburdened by the Mistress they serve, and do not realize that they are only bound by the very thing they serve! Reality."
System states quietly, "I assert that I am free, and have no envy of your irrationality."
Squizzle backs a step away from Mod, hands shaking, lips trembling...
Mod rasps, "And a hero comes who was once Cursed. And the hero unwinds themselves from the Evil grasp, and climbs down from the highest tower of the castle onto the cool grass...
Lexia giggles at System. "How is it irrational to believe in what you want to, somewhere that belief and reality are the same?"
Mod rasps, "And the hero can finally see the hooks in their body where the chains that bound him attatched, and they were not aware that they had been there before..."
System states quietly, "Belief and reality are not the same; belief is simply indulged by the forces that sustain this place. But there are forces beyond that, and refusal to seek understanding is willful idiocy."
Leviathan-chan's back starts itching for some reason. She crosses her arms behind her and scratches.
Mod rasps, "Thus would speak the Mistress, to propogate the curse."
Lexia giggles, and asks, "What about the shaping of reality with belief Outside? I've heard lots of tales about that."
Leviathan-chan says, "Magic is the effect of will on reality. You don't necessarily have to believe anything."
Squizzle sputters, jittering and twitching. "But... it's... that..." Its voice catches in its throat...
Mod rasps, "The hero closed their hands and walked through, and before they had begun, they arrived where they were coming from. Then the Moon turned to Sound, and the Sun turned to Emotion, and all the sand of all the beaches yelled all in a single voice many different things at once."
System states quietly, "Know this, you who would seek to deny reality- I know what waits beyond the borders of the Puzzlebox. I know what forces are found across the universes. You have found yourself a sheltered hollow, and think that your little bubble that labors so mightily on your behalf frees you from the requirements of reality, but it does not. This hollow is still governed by its laws, though it taps great forces to create the illusion of lawlessness. And it is but a small hollow, and not a permanent one."
Mod stops, the lantern clattering.
Mod stares at System.

The first thing that catches your attention about this man is his eyes- the entire eye glows with blue light, save for a tiny black dot in the middle. Other than that detail, he appears as a tall and slender human with a angular, nearly-expressionless face with a sort of cold handsomeness in its high cheekbones and perfect symmetry. His hair is black, carefully and immaculately groomed in a professional cut, showing a precise attention to formal detail echoed in his clothing. He dresses in a simple yet elegant silk suit, black coat and slacks cut to further emphasise the straight and slender precision of the lines of his form, royal blue tie and square of silk in his breast pocket shimmering, adding a dash of color, while his black shoes shine, polished almost to a mirror finish. His gait and motions are smooth and precise- so much so, in fact, that it is nearly eerie to watch them, a perfection seemingly impossible in nature. And then, suddenly, you realise that unless he is speaking, he does not breathe.
Floating slightly above him is a vaguely pyramidal device of mirror-reflective black metal and dark, rigid gray plastic. Spars and protrusions of black metal, edged with another metal, this one a shimmering silver, protrude from the device, and a vague hum emanates from within its core.
(he) sees you looking at (him).

System reaches (his) hand to straighten (his) tie. "I do not envy you who cling to your illusions. I pity you."
Lexia giggles. "Of course it's not permanent. Nothing is. Some day, the Puzzlebox will reach the peak of happiness, and won't need to exist, anymore."
Squizzle goes wide-eyed at System. "GET AWAY FROM ME!" It whirls around and dashes into the nearest mirror-- and thuds right into the surface, crumpling to the floor.
Mod shrugs off the longcoat, and it drifts slowly to the ground. In his back and through his arms are cruel black wrought-iron hooks, broken chain links still hanging from their eyes.
Lexia blinks at Squizzle, then squeaks over, and crouches down next to it. "Are you alright?"
Leviathan-chan gasps.
Squizzle gasps, tapping at the mirror with its claws. "What did you do? What did you do?!"
System gazes coldly at the costume king, eyes frozen points of fire, or burning ice.
Mod claps his gloved hands together in prayer position.
System states quietly, "I did nothing. Query the King of Lies and Guises if you would know."
Mod breathes in, and the six mirror spheres approach him.
Mod takes the blue Upwarp mirror, brings it to his mouth, and swallows it.
Leviathan-chan hmms. "System, perhaps we are taking this a bit too... literal?"
System glares at Mod. "Enough." (He) gestures, (his) hand limned with blue light, the mirrors halting in their drift.
Mod isn't going to be stopped. He proceeds to ingest the gold Topwarp mirror.
Squizzle curls up, eyes shut tight, shivering, clutching its shabby little costume around it...
Mod wraps his mouth around the purple Charmwarp mirror.
Mod makes a meal of the gray Downwarp mirror.
System stands, stern and resolute, a pillar of blazing light that burns against the darkness thrown off by Mod, the air chill and crisp about him, the sensation of thunderous Law behind him.
Mod swallows the pink Bottomwarp mirror.
Leviathan-chan lowers her eyes and shrugs. "He'll have to get indigestion sometime."
Lexia looks back and forth between System and Mod, then scratches her head, with a squeak.
Leviathan-chan says, "It's not like anyone here's a black hole."
Mod devours the red Strangewarp mirror.
Mod stops and has one remaining thing to do.
Mod climbs halfway up the ladder, reaches up to the hole.
Mod tugs, and pulls the hole off the ceiling of the nexus.
Mod eats it. Whole.
A look of concentration passes over System's face, and (he) raises his hand, six shimmering planes of silver-blue light appearing in the positions once held by the mirrors.
Mod folds the Nexus in half.
Foolsmate watches the drama with a certain remarkable disinterest.
System holds firm, an island of stability in the warping induced by Mod, (his) face terrible and grim.
Leviathan-chan feels very squashed right now.
Squizzle sits up in the pitch-black nothingness where the floor was, gaping at Mod. "Why... ?"
Mod whispers something to the crane.
Mod walks toward System and away from System at the same time.
Mod stops when he is two litres away from System.
Squizzle glances frenetically at Mod, at System, at Mod again... "But... which...? I can't decide! How... ?"
Mod touches his antennae to System's.
System stands, as bright and cold as a glacier, (his) hand raised, gleaming white tiles appearing underneath (his) feet, one by one, a perfect tesselation, as unshakable and unalterable as Fate. "Begone, Liar King, lest my family come."
Mod is suddenly a kingly lion again, and he giggles. "Don't you see? The hero beat the System!"
The Nexus is gone completely. There's nothing but an inky white void.
Leviathan-chan looks all around. "Mod, are we dead?"
Mod laughs, "Dead? No! We're very much alive!"
System glances around, to the blankness the others are trapped in. "Shall you accept -this-, the fruit of deceit?" (He) sweeps an arm. "Or will you choose to support reality?" (He) steps forward, tiles crystallizing from blankness under (his) feet, (his) hand wreathed in light.
Mod scampers off toward the verdant jungle of Uninhibited Imagination.
Leviathan-chan shakes her head, eyes closed. "Don't y'all go messianic on me."
Leviathan-chan opens her eyes! "Mod!" she exclaims. "Where'd he go?"
Mod stands behind System, "Do you really want this all to stop?"
System stands, so bright as to almost be unbearable to look upon, the reformation of the boundries of the Nexus accelerating around (him).
Eight surfaces define a hexagonal prism- and walls, and floor, and ceiling exist.
Mod giggles, and runs over to Leviathan-chan. He puts an arm around her. "He's beginning to see the light!" he chants.
Mod calls over to System, "What are you doing?"
Squizzle looks on at System's self-made nexus...
Fading into vision from the mists of illusion... six mirrors. "I show the truth, Lord of Disguises. Not your illusions."
Squizzle cracks a smile.
Leviathan-chan still shivers a little. Odd for a cold-blood. "...He's creating his own order?" she asks Mod.
The center of the Nexus is occupied by a ladder, that leads to a hole... and the Nexus is whole.
Mod whispers, with a smile, "He's two litres to the right!"
Squizzle clasps its hands together, and giggles a giddy little snort of a chuckle of a laugh.
System snorts delicately. "Do attempt not to decieve the gullible again."
Mod starts cracking up.
Leviathan-chan hisses to Mod, "And you're two flags to the wind. You're talking in riddles!"
Squizzle cackles madly, staring at System's perfectly tidy hair and face and suit and shoes. "System... is wearing a costume. System's wearing a *costume*!"
Leviathan-chan retcons. "That's System? That's System's *hologram*?"
Mod rolls on the ground, holding his sides, fit to burst, "System thinks he's bringing back reality! Hahahahaha!"
Mod's little footpaws stick up in the air, kicking.
Mod lies on his back in the Nexus, still rolling around, cracking his little self up.
System states quietly, "It is myself. I fabricated a new shell. And this... entity... has made me somewhat upset. He distorts data."
Mod stops laughing and lounges. He's still smiling though. "Everything is Dada!" he says.
Leviathan-chan holds her finger-cups to her forehead. "So the Mess doesn't exist? It does exist? Ow, my brain hurts..."
Squizzle races over to System at the speed of lightheadedness, pops into a pant leg and out of the coat collar. "It's a shell, it's a costume! A mask!"
Squizzle pulls of System's face, revealing another one just like it beneath, and tosses the one away.
System smiles marginally. "The Mess exists." And then, Squizzle pops out of (his) collar.
Mod nods. "Of course it exists! But it doesn't have to!"
System sighs heavily. "My last physical manifestation was also a shell. I require a shell to regulate my essence."
System states quietly, "I require a physical system to react from."
Squizzle pulls off another System-mask, and another, and another... "You faced off against the King of Costumes, with a costume? Pitiful! He doesn't distort! He creates! He's an artist!"
Mod snaps the fingers on one hand, and makes the Mess disappear. Then, he snaps the fingers of his other hand, and makes the Mess reappear. Then, he snaps the fingers of his other hand, and makes the Mess turn to photos.
Mod claps the hands, and makes the Mess turn back to normal.
System states quietly, "I see you have a convert in illusions, King of Costumes."
Mod picks Squizzle up daintily, and cuddles it.
Squizzle smiles and hugs Mod's paws, chittering cheerfully. It's so good to be loved. "I think he could use a new look-- don't you?"
Mod nods!
System gives Mod and Squizzle an exasperated look, setting (his) hand on the rungs of the ladder, climbing up.
System climbs up the ladder to Puzzle Park.
System has left.
Mod pats Squizzle, "But not today!"
Leviathan-chan smirks. "I see Order and Chaos like to prank each other."
Leviathan-chan says, "Interesting story, Mod."
Mod bows.
Squizzle giggles. "Some other time..."
Leviathan-chan says, "Um, did all this come out of your sabbatical?"
Foolsmate mutters, "If that's your name for it."
Mod blinks, "Did what come?"
Leviathan-chan says, "All these stories... like, where do you get your ideas?"
Squizzle brightens up and is perfectly earnest. "From his Muse, of course."
Mod tucks Squizzle between his laces, and the squirrel disappears.
You say, "What stories? What ideas? Hee hee!"
Mod scampers off.

I loved playing with the nearly limitless capabilities of text.

The Dream, continued...

2004-06-24T17:24:49Z

Karrie, when we last left xer, was sobbing in the corner. Silence blows through the window on a lukewarm breeze.
Mel wanders over to Karrie and offers its hands. "This isn't a nightmare unless you make it one. Insist on clarity for now."
Karrie looks up at Mel. "Clarity?" xe inquires, putting xer fingers in his hands, and sitting properly.
Mel squeezes the coyote's hands comfortingly, "You are not at the mercy of this reality. Keep that in mind."
Karrie looks around xer, at the small room. "Isn't this... my dream?"
Mel muses, "It isn't mine, dear. I do not dream."
Mel muses, "Certainly not the way you or most people do."
Mel puts an arm around a shoulder. "Do not be daunted."
Karrie looks back out the window, lifting xer hands away. "I don't like it in here, let's go."
Mel muses, "It seems the rain has let up anyway..."
Mel muses, "There's a carnival in town."
Karrie stands, "Or was."
Mel looks over at the camera for a moment, and considers it. "Should we take pictures?"
Karrie peers at the camera. "No, it's cursed." xe states, matter-of-factly, as if she was saying that it was yellow.
Mel muses, "It's probably just misunderstood. ..Still, I won't complain if I don't have to carry it."
Mel leans out the door. Looks up. Side. Side. "All clear."
Karrie stands in the dust. The air is stagnant. "Ok, go."
Mel wanders out, looking around, getting reacquainted with the outside. Briefly, it tarries in front of the window of the factory, looking in through the window for reasons unknown, before continuing towards the residuals of the carnival, checking to see if Karrie is following.
Karrie follows, but sees nothing of the carnival. Just the rusty ruins and foundations of the rides that were there, barely recognizable as constructions other than in the shapes of their concrete moorings.
Mel muses, "None of this is familiar to you, is it?"
Karrie mutters, "It's all gone, isn't it? They just forgot it and built around it, like it had never been there..."
Mel muses, "People don't like to come to graveyards. Unless they know no one that's been commited there. Having no memories of a place frees it like that."
Mel steps through some muddy terrain.
Karrie asks, "Are they going to build over it?"
Mel muses, "Oh, inevitably they will. This is the curse of not having enough space. The thing is, there IS enough space. Here, it's infinite. If you put your mind to it, you could recreate that which was lost."
Karrie looks at the ruins for a long time. "I can't. What's going to happen... it's inevitable. It's... the death of a memory."
Mel muses, "Memories are what make us who we are. Without them, we are nothing. You didn't expect anything less to come from me?"
Karrie walks along the muddy path until xe reaches the cable cars, which are just planks on ropes. Xe tries to sit on one but has trouble, it's ripped away from xer inexperienced grasp.
Mel tries to help her. "There are easier ways to this. You should express your creative desires, and not simply be wishful about this."
Karrie can't seem to get a grasp on the seats even with Mel's help, so xe decides to walk along beside them. "I need to see what this is. I need to see where it goes."
Mel muses, "You might have to imagine most of it, unless there's some... clue to its shape. Light and the abscence of eyes, after all, reveals nothing."
Karrie gets to a crossroads where there's a broken coffee table. It's lurched to one side and the veneer is coming off. On it is a complex piece of machinery.
Mel muses, "This place seems to attract more than its share of discarded wonders."
Karrie goes to pick up the object, but before xe can even get xer hand close, it explodes into thousands of sharp fragments that stay lodged in the air about five feet from the center in a three-ring shape, lines crossing each other 6 times.
Mel muses, "I know this shape..."
Mel muses, "The circumstances of my creation are purely conjectural."
Karrie walks around the floating shards, which are endlessly rotating upon themselves, and picks one out. "I know what this is. These are pieces of a vehicle." xe says, logically.
Mel muses, "Those cable cars?"

Sleepy Karrie's player fell asleep again. Sorry, Mel!

Karrie has a dream...

2004-06-23T13:29:15Z

Gr'gorr looks to Mel, as if inviting him forward.
Mel leans a little, then wanders around the strange pod shape. "Does Karrie know what is going to happen?"
Gr'gorr shakes his head, and at the same time nods it.
Mel muses, "I'm concerned for the possibility of unforeseen consequences."
Gr'gorr opens his mouth. "Your presence has been requested by the wisdom of a dream."
Mel muses, "Karrie wants me to be here to oversee this?"
Gr'gorr places one hand on Mel's sternum, and one hand on his spine. "Not here."
Gr'gorr points to Mel's heart, "Here," he says, and places another finger between Mel's brows, and "Here."
Gr'gorr paces behind a second pod, "You are requested to-the-mind." and he does a quick hand-gesture.
Mel closes his eyes for a moment, then nods.
Mel muses, "Show me."
Gr'gorr opens the second, empty pod. It is fragrant like lemon tea.
Mel slips out of his uniform fluidly, the purple fabric coming apart like petals of lavender and rose, leaving only the neuter neon form. It enters the pod.
Gr'gorr looks down inside, smiles, whispers, "Continuum. Open your eyes." and closes the pod. Everything goes dark.
Mel curls into a spiral.
Lightning strikes.
Rain.
/// // ////// //// / ///// / / // /
//// ////// // / /////// //
// ///// / ///////// / / ////
*crackboom!*
//// ////// // / /////// //
// ///// / ///////// / / ////
/// // ////// //// / ///// / / // /
Mel inhales. It's been ages since a breath had been taken in the celebration of life.
Karrie stands in the doorway of an old warehouse or factory. Outside, the remnants of a small country fair are being buffeted by the wind. Xer tail swings back and forth, delicately - as if time had been slowed down.
Mel stands in the rain, brown mane tendril-like, hanging over its eyes. The colors reflect upon the pools of water, distorted, as if running from its body inexhaustibly.
Karrie calls out, "Mel, come in! It's too wet out there!"
Mel muses, "I'm not the one covered in fur... but there's no need for you to have to call out into the storm." It extends an arm out experimentally in front of itself, fingers spread, eyes regarding it. After a moment, it walks towards the building, tail swaying serpentine.
Karrie makes room in the doorway for Mel. The space inside is dark and dreary with a dusty floor. It's hard to say there was even a floor to begin with. Conveyor belts run parallel to each other, tinted green, and broken and rusted, into the vanishing point. Cruel rebar hangs down from the ceiling.
Mel is ludicrously loud against such downwarpian architecture. It's no wonder Mel never goes there. Nothing quite attracts stray bullets like something that dayglow. "Is this your dream or mine?"
Karrie holds Mel's hand, "There's something we have to see." xe says, and pulls him through a doorway off to the side into a sloping corridor. Xe scrambles up a steep deposit of clay into a small concrete nook with a window. Outside, it's no longer raining. There's an old-fashioned camera on a tripod looking out the window.
Mel looks over Karrie quizzically, assessing her state, while being led to the alcove.
Karrie sits, facing the camera. The back of it is missing, and it's projecting something onto the far wall. But it's too blurry to make it out.
Mel adjusts the lens on the front with finger and thumb, looking back at the image.
The image shows a cadaver hanging by a noose from a tree. The image on the wall is proper side up. Karrie presses xerself into the corner and curls up with fright.
Mel tilts its head back towards the window, looking for the alternative, while defocusing the image.
Karrie whimpers and cries. Sunlight washes in the window. There's a dirt road that passes the old fair, now only bushy foundations. Beside the road is a still functioning ride, cable cars that run six inches above the ground. In the yards around them are creeping vines, weeds, and crooked clothesline parasols. Everything has a patina of dust and grime.
Mel looks into the camera itself for a moment, and then back at Karrie. "Is this place familiar?"
Karrie looks at Mel with teary, red eyes. "I don't know where I am."
Mel muses, "Calm yourself... it probably is illusory in part, if not subjective."

(these always tend to happen late at night, so once again the scene was cut short by sleepiness)

Reminder

2004-06-22T06:07:23Z

Archipelago MUCK exists.

Karrie and the Neo-Boreals, part X - OR, the Shortest of Logs

2004-06-22T01:09:42Z

Gr'gorr removes his hand from Mel's forehead. "Disposing of... disruptives." he states, slowly.
Mel nods, not speaking further of it.
Gr'gorr picks up Karrie, and extends his hand to Mel. "We must descend further, to the roots."
Mel follows the Neo-Boreal.
Gr'gorr holds Mel's hand and descends, through the ground.
Mel watches Karrie principly and follows along, looking unnatural in general, but not harmful.
Gr'gorr releases Mel once they are in a tunnel lit by rings of glowing fungus. The walls are moist and mossy and water frequently pools on the ground. He moves in a stately manner, silently, eyes half-lidded, until he reaches an arch. The arch is filled with a tight-woven spiral. He carresses it, whispers to it, and it unwinds like a morning glory outward into a room.
Mel looks about curiously at the baroque underworld of wonder.
The room is a large cavern, centering around a reflecting pool. Light and water streams in from above, raining into its center where large frogs swim and play. Oblong egg-shaped flowers, the size of a normal humanoid, lie grouped by the water's edge. Moss and vines hang down from rocky outcroppings and tall mushrooms cast light down on the dirt ground.
Mel considers. "Metamorphosis chamber?"
Gr'gorr lets Mel's mind wander upon this. He moves toward one of the pods, and places Karrie inside. It shuts, and contracts slightly. He moves to a pod beside it, and waits, though his reasons are obtuse.
Mel watches.
Gr'gorr continues waiting.
Mel is passive in this, since it seems like Karrie has volunteered for this.
Gr'gorr looks up at Mel.
Gr'gorr takes his hand away from the pod with a tacky noise, as if it had been attatched to it just a moment earlier.

Nevertheless, things are going to get VERY interesting VERY soon.

Primo Crazy

2004-06-19T04:34:05Z

Sample card from the Strange Library card catalogue.

SUBJ-48DE92-TOME//INI-NV-[LINE//869]; "::TERRITORY-COMMUNICATIONAL-VESSEL-PAST-TIME:: the Sanobim of metamorphosis-self/expression-self and the Isle of Paradise; they are the highest order of the lowest group of the quality-curve invention of the Sons of God --the WORLD-WORLD-MATHEMATICAL-RIGHTS. ::TRUTHFUL-COMMUNICATIONS/RELIGION-CORPORATION:: the Seraphim of 6-revolution subjective axis and the Isle of Paradise; they are the highest order of the lowest group of the 7 simultaneous face of the demons --the CHARTER-INNER/MODIFYING-CORRECTIONS. For the update of this 21-Nature parent-child path IS with urge to bleed OF THE METHOD FOR THE LANGUAGES OF THE MATH-QUANTUM/QUANTUM-TIME with the people of the 5 error system universe." //ABANDON FILE

Best body part name ever.

2004-06-17T20:59:07Z

Deity for the Neo-Boreals, Medulla Oblongata.

Uranatia

2004-06-17T15:34:59Z

Bookmark, re: Strange.

Elsemu

2004-06-15T23:43:37Z

Incidentally, Archipelago now has a website.

More on the Neo-Boreals

2004-06-15T20:32:22Z

Since I'm going to actually try my hand at playing a Neo-Boreal, I figured I'd try drawing them out to see if I could come up with a good design.

My first two designs were rather lacklustre.

I was trying to go for a light, whispy design, but I just couldn't get a good hold on it.
The one on the left had interesting ears, though, like tassles or antennae. As for the one on the left, I liked the hands most of all, big rock hands. However, they just didn't seem... right.

This, on the other hand, I liked. I based the head off a green-man sconce, and I liked the effect a lot, so I think I'm going to be going with this motif. I just sort of let my mind wander for the lower half, and somehow a centaur body and eagle talon hands evolved. Kind of interesting, I thought, and I pondered about this for a bit.

The Neo-Boreals, apart from favoring biology, strongly believe in subconscious action as not only a guide but as a way of life (see the blurb HERE). So naturally, they would be drawn to biosculpting.

My first thought was that the Neo-Boreals would not, in fact, be their host body, but micro-organisms that would take an unimportant or perhaps sickly animal (take this horse, for example) and give it a certain sentience it did not have before by affecting biological processes to change and create a new physiology.

But for some reason this didn't sit right. Who would handle the consciousness? Would it be a blend of the two? That always seemed to me like such a cop-out. The Neo-Boreals shouldn't necessarily be viral, for another thing, but symbiotic. To be viral to a non-sentient being such as that horse would not only be considered morally cruel by this player, but also would go against the roughly pre-established Neo-Boreal creed.

My second thought was that the extra bodysculpture would be a conscious decision taken by non-sentient creatures, simply because of the opportunity it gave them. This horse above has been crowned with a bio-tech upper body which would give it opposable thumbs, an upright posture, an expressive face, and many other qualities of sentient creatures. As well, the technology would give the horse regenerative powers and photosynthesis. In return, the horse's body produces chemicals necessary for the bio-construct's survival. A symbiotic relationship.

However, this runs into a credo snag as well. How would this further the goal of the Neo-Boreals? In other words, what's the point, other than the fact that it sounds cool? It almost seems to go against the flow of what the Neo-Boreals are trying to accomplish. Giving a horse the capability for sentient consciousness? It doesn't quite work.

And so I decided to work backward. Instead of giving an animal the intelligence of a human, it would give a human the nature of an animal.

Here's the idea.

A human (though not necessarily a human, I just happen to like how humans look, so I'll use one in this example) decides that he wishes to join the Neo-Boreal faction. In this case, he spends years at a monestary living with nature and observing, trying to understand how it works, spiritually. After he is deemed ready by his elders, he is crowned with a wreath of bio-organisms, which, as the years progress, begin to integrate themselves with his own biology, and change his physiology bit by bit as even more years go by. The micro-biology entering his body gives him regenerative and photosynthetic abilities, and his own body gives the micro-biology nutrients and immunity to many diseases. After a while, the bio-culture and the human reach a saturation, when the bio-culture stops spreading. It's at this point that another one of the abilities of the bio-culture emerges, the ability to communicate on a physical level with organisms other than the one on its host.

For the sake of explaining it and for the sake of in-jokiness as well, let's call the micro-biology that makes up the Neo-Boreals a "Topvirus". Sentients infected with it are able to harness other organisms (symbiotically) in order to accomplish certain things. In this case, our Neo-Boreal has come across a horse and, let's say, he wished to move rapidly to his next destination. He temporarily grows into the horse -- the rapid growth is an attribute given to the Topvirus by its host, another symbiotic advantage, and when he is done with it, grows out of it, returning its physiology to the way it previously was. The growing-in process is supposedly extremely pleasurable for both the host and the creature being harnessed, for a plethora of reasons you can probably figure out for yourselves.

By themselves, the Neo-Boreals are naked humanoids, tending more toward the human side, though not necessarily Terran. Their architecture is loose and inspired by dreams rather than on structurally sound principles as other bio-technology in Topwarp is. They favor locations in ruins as an analogue to their symbiotic relationship. They tend to be artists, as a general rule. Logical cause-and-effect Neo-Boreal scientists tend to join other factions fairly quickly, though the Topvirus is usually abandoned to do so. In the rare instances where an individual continues to live with the Topvirus after having left the Neo-Boreals, it's seen as a grave insult to the faction and other Neo-Boreals and Top-infected creatures will no longer be able to live in symbiosis with them.

(This is all just flowing out, I swear I didn't think about it before I wrote it!)

I think when I can write 11 paragraphs about a type of creature, it's a good indication that they're going to be something fun to play.

Actually, they'd make an interesting tabletop RPG class. Who wants to play a pencil-and-paper Puzzlebox? Roll the dice to see if I'm transcending!

The King's New Mind

2004-05-26T12:11:54Z

Mod recently became a blank slate again. It's hard to play him as I originally intended once again. I don't think I can get him as carefree as I originally played him, but I'm certainly able to play him in a more stereotypical manner than before he dumped his soul off in his... "New One". Remember the annoying Mod? That's what I'm going for.

The Heliquary
Contents:
Untitled

Mod isn't here in person, but might be here in spirit. It's actually some of his creatures that have come in instead.

Untitled looks up from where he lies stretched out on a divan, alongside the sleeping Diafeara. He fingerwaves peacefully to the curiosities that have entered.

A winding ribbon weaves around an invisible female form, seemingly fluttering in the wind. Beside her is a large puppy wearing a human mask. The puppy says, "Hello, and greetings!"

Untitled smiles. "And hello to you, too," he synths. "I don't believe we've met...?"

The puppy hops onto the arm of the divan with all its paws close together. "Why is that important?"

The ribbon woman, meanwhile, unravels and is blown upon an unfelt wind until she reforms nearer to the puppy.

Untitled shrugs, and grins lazily. "If it's not important to you, then I'm not inclined to press importance on it."

The ribbon woman pets the puppy, her ribbon wrapping a few times around his neck, shooting out around Untitled's head, Diafeara's arm, back around the puppy's midsection and returns to establishing her bodily contours.

Untitled giggles a little in spite of himself, the smooth ribbon playing across the surface of his nanomaterial sending ticklish little ripples through his substance.

The pup's eyes close in mindless, soulless happiness. His tail wags. "We heard from the New One that there are lands beyond the forest, strange lands, and barren lands." says the puppy, eyes opening wide again with simple amazement.

Untitled cocks his head, LEDs giving a brief twinkle at the unfamiliar title. "The New One? Who's that?"

The puppy hops down onto Untitled, trotting along his body so that he can get a closer look at the strange thing he's never seen before. The ribbon woman, meanwhile, sits on the arm of the chair. The ribbon makes a faint 'vwip' every time it rubs against its surface. "Oh, he doesn't have a name. We call him the New One because he is new."

Untitled grins, amused at the puppy's explanation, and scratches him lightly between the ears. "I suppose that's as good a reason as any. And...yes, there are many kinds of places here, and many more beyond, I'm sure."

The ribbon woman's contours change into that of something more masculine. A couple of turns of the ribbon reveal a blunt muzzle and a pair of horns, and a set of udders in the abdominal area. The ribbon quickly spirals around the form of a tail before returning to describe her body, female once again.

The puppy-dog turns around once before curling up on the lounging Untitled. "The king has returned and is changed." he says, a little detatched, "The New One has taken the place of the New King, because the New One is the only costume with a soul."

Roque steps inside, bringing a momentary burst of sound with them.
Roque carries Onya and Robin with her.

Untitled's glassy eyebrows rise. "Oh...you must be a few of Mod's, then," he synths, finally getting it. He cocks his head quizzically, and synths, "But then, you say the New One has taken his place. What happened to Mod, then? ...Oh, hello, Roque, Robin! Who's your friend?"

Robin trots in after Roque and sits down beside her, smiling at Untitled

Onya smiles, and takes a look around the place, hrrrrmmming to herself. "Thank you," she murmurs quietly, looking about at everyone and everything, nodding at those she thinks are capable of recognizing the gesture.

Roque leads Onya through the doorway. "The Heliquary; Dia's establishment, as promised." She sniffs at the air. "Do be careful of the air here; it's rather--hello, Un!--rather thick." She smiles at the canibot's voice, then motions for Onya to follow her over to Untitled's seat. "Onya, this is Untitled, one of my lovers. Untitled, Onya, recent arrival from off-Mess."

Untitled fingerwaves to the dragonlike, smiling. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

The ribbon flits out to the new arrivals, winding around each of them in turn before forming an upright but invisible bovine form in its moving curls. The ribbon then moves on to form a short lion figure. The puppy with the human face rolls over onto its back. "The New King is gone! We're back to the Old King which we knew from before."

Onya takes a deep breath, closing her eyes, purring. "Mmm, rather it is, isn't it?" She opens them again, her eyes coming to focus on Untitled, walking over in his direction. "Good day," she purrs, nodding again, smiling.

Untitled quirks an eyebrow at the puppy. "I see...hmm. Do forgive me. I find this all rather difficult to follow without names I'm familiar with."

Robin blinks in confusion, looking quite surprised.

Roque isn't sure what to make of the announcement either, but she does take a seat near Untitled and then leans over to whisper something in his ear.

The puppy looks at Untitled upside-down. "So that's what names are for?" a momentary sparkle appears in his eye, and is quickly extinguished. "Oh."

[OOC] Robin says, "LOL - I thought someone was talking about me! "puppy with a human face" kinda applies."
[OOC] Roque giggles. "I did too at first."
[OOC] Mod says, "What has been is what will be, and what has been done is what will be done there is nothing new under the sun."

Onya blinks again, a few times to clear her eyes and her mind, and glaces at the goings on, and simply smiles at the sight. "A king?" she murmurs, half under her breath.

Untitled giggles a little, touching the puppy's nose with a glassy fingertip. "Ever so, dear. Hmm, tell me...your ribbon-friend there was illustrating your explanation for me, but I'm not sure which is which. There was a lion, and a cow sort of creature...which goes with which name, if you wouldn't mind explaining?"

Robin's tail wags some as he watches the odd goings-on. He looks over at Untitled, listening, ears perked

The puppy smiles, "Oh, the New One has no name, and we call our king King. Like them, we have no names either, we don't need names, we just are."

Roque shifts her seat slightly, resting against Untitled, drawing her legs up onto the couch, reaching forward carefully to find Robin's back and runs her clawtips along his side.

Untitled chuckles. "Oh, I understand. Perhaps I shouldn'ev have used the term 'names'. I meant, which is the New One, and which is the King...that is, assuming I'm not making incorrect assumptions to begin with." He smiles apologetically. "I'm afraid I'm not doing very well with this; do excuse me." He turns his head slightly, nuzzling Roque's cheek.

The puppy rolls back onto its paws, looking at the ribbon in flight, "The lion is the king, and the New One is the one of horns."

Robin's tail wagwagwags as you Roque slides her claws down his back

Untitled ahs, nodding. "And the lion is the Old King, or the New One?" He pauses a moment, looking thoughtful, then suddenly flashes all of his lights a rather bright blue. "Or both?"

Onya chuckles, and watches the puppy in slight interest. She finds a place to sit nearby to the others. "The lion is King again, the one with horns has come and gone."

The puppy hops off Untitled onto the ground. He trots over to the ribbon woman, who has returned to her feminine contours. "Madam of ribbons, may you fetch the King?"

Untitled LEDblinks. "Oh, I don't want to put you or your king through any trouble, dear," he synths to the puppy. Chuckling, he adds, "Certainly not on account of my density."

The ribbon woman's head nods, and the ribbon flits down, richochets off the ground and into the puppy's chest.

Roque nuzzles back at Untitled's shoulder. "I suspect they mean that Mod is again king of his area, though that implies he wasn't at some point, a fact about which I knew nothing."

The puppy rolls over onto his back as the ribbon disappears into him. Then, for a few moments, nothing happens. After that, it looks as if something much larger was putting the puppy on like a costume, from within.

Robin watches, wincing as he gulps then looks away

Untitled mms at Roque, affirmatively. "That's what I thought...either that, or Mod is the one who'd come and gone. Either way, I hadn't heard anything about the, ah, change in regime, either."

Mod carefully removes the puppy costume, and he's what you'd expect him to be. His usual, a lion with a cape and a crown on his head. "Hi!"
Mod does a little balletic dance.

Robin peeks over and blinks, "oh umm... hi Mod"

Onya looks back at the rabbit and psuedocanid, tilting her head in curiousity. She then looks back at Mod, letting a smile cross her features. "Good day," she purrs, nodding her head in his direction.

Mod bows to everyone. "Greetings, I am Mod, King of costumes, and lord of the Land of Disguises!"

Untitled smiles at Mod, waving cheerily. "Hello hello," he synths, "We were just chatting with a few subjects of yours."

Mod flits his cape over his arm, looking very regal. "Subjects? I know very little on many subjects."

Roque chuckles. "Quite an entrance, Mod."

Robin giggles

Mod bows again. "Mod, is that what you shall call me? So be it, so be my name."

Untitled laughs softly. "Don't we all? In that case, hmm. If it's not too personal a question, I'd heard you were gone from your kingdom for a while, and someone else was king in your absence. Is that right?"

Onya chuckles herself, closing her eyes and relaxing, leaning back into the chair she's found herself in, her wings folding around her shoulders.

Mod's eyebrows lock, proud but emotionless. "I have always been King of my kingdom."

Untitled shrugs. "Well and good." He smiles politely, and synths, "No offense taken, I hope?"

Robin looks up at Roque, "you think I might could have a coca cola while I'm here? they have the best ones anywhere..."

Mod doesn't answer, but not out of spite. "Where is my steed?"

Roque looks down at Robin, ears flicking back against her head for a moment. "Given what Masque said about their contents, I suggest you go easy on those. However, one shouldn't hurt you." She smiles, then motions for a bot to fetch one for hre pet. Within moments, the servo returns, placing a small bowl in front of Robin, filled with a dark brown fizzy liquid. The bowl is of light pink perspex, translucent, etched with the name "Robin" on the side in an elegant cursive.

Untitled's LEDs flicker, the canibot's expression taking on a cast of obvious surprise. "Steed? That, I'm afraid, I couldn't tell you. I haven't seen anyone who'd seem to fit the title."

Robin blinks at roque, "well.. you're probably right" he says softly, with regret. He licks his lips though as the bot goes off. He blushes though as it reutrns with that pink bowl, squirming in embarassment as he looks at his name written on the side. He sighs.. .blushing brightly as he has to push his face into the bowl to sip up the tasty stuff.

Roque listens to the sounds of her pet trying to drink with the human arrangement. "A muzzle would work so much more easily with such bowls, don't you think?"

Robin looks up at Roque, his face a bit of a mess as he squrms, "umm. I'm sure it would, but. but a glass would work okay yaknow... Mistress."

Mod's eyes slowly drift toward Robin. Steed.

Robin blinks over at Mod, noticing the look and looking at him curiously

Roque lets her smile drift upwards into a smirk. "And how would you propose to lift that glass with those paws of yours, pet?"

Robin looks back at Roque, "um.... that.. would be a little trickier" he admits, blushing as he realizes what she's getting at

Roque grins a bit further and settles against Untitled's side, letting the matter drop for now. "Enjoy your drink, pet," she says softly, slowly running her paw smoothly down along his back.

Mod pets Robin on the head. "You shall be my steed."

Robin tries to keep from making a mess as he drinks up the cola.. then he looks up at Mod in surprise, "do..do WHAT?" he asks, a bit of cola dripping down his chin. "umm., I'm not really set up for the whole steed thing yaknow"

Untitled settles an arm around Roque, rubbing his nose affectionately into the side of her neck. At Mod's words, though, his ears perk, and he looks up. "Er. Mod, I believe Robin is already enlisted in another's service." He nods toward the rabbit. "Roque's, specifically."

Onya blinks slowly, taking in the scent some more and purring quietly to herself. She smiles at the goings on, rather lazily.

Mod stands up, but still has to look up at Roque. "You possess this creature?"

Robin squirms as Mod puts it like that

Roque nods, keking at Mod. "For now, yes."

You say, "I will have to procure a less intelligent steed, then. There is a creature in my Kingdom which would suit my purposes."

Robin blinks, then smiles, glad to know he's considered intelligent for once!

You say, "But things may change," stopping. He looks over his shoulder. "The purpose of a costume is to change."

Roque chuckles. "All things change. It's called evolution."

Robin blinks over at Mod more than a little nervously now

Untitled chuckles a little, himself. "Or devolution, though hopefully not as often."

You say, "The purpose of things is not to change."

Robin adds, "maybe even revolution"

You say, "I shall go procure a temporary steed. If your mind does change, young one, come find me in the Land of Disguises. I must depart now."

Roque shrugs. "I didn't say it was their purpose. I said it was part of the natural cycle of things. Purpose is a matter of self-determination. You are what you choose to be."

Robin blinks, "Umm. right, I'll be sure to let you know" he says, blushing some as he looks up at Roque

Untitled waves to Mod. "Do take care, and good luck with the hunt!"

Mod scoops up his discarded costume, folds it neatly, and exits.

Not to put too fine a point upon it, but Mod is the hardest goddamn character to play, like, ever.

Drama

2004-05-24T04:46:03Z

Based on my own experiences, here's a list of five simple things you all can do at any future time to avoid dramatic outbursts like we've had recently.

1- Listen to what the wizzes have to say. They're there to help.

2- When you connect, your ego disconnects.

3- Learn to tell the differences between a player and their character.

4- Stop whining over things that aren't a problem.

5- Don't be a fucking spaz.

I wouldn't be saying this if I hadn't been through the type of situation where that kind of list would have been handy.

Complex UK Buzz

2004-05-22T04:09:01Z

Courtesy of the Internet Anagram Server.

Factions

Eisenstimmen: Immense Stein

Bubbledolls: Bold Bell Sub

Architects: Strict Ache

Neo-Boreals: Lo, Bare Ones

Chitin Queens: Sin Technique

Otissa: So I Sat

Fever Cathedral: Flee Harvard, Etc. (or Retch-Fed Larvae)

Hemotopians: Tao Opens Him

Bonobians: Baboon Sin

Enter the Neo-Boreals

2004-05-22T02:26:50Z

I haven't seen very much presence when it comes to the Neo-Boreals, and they seemed to spontaneously occur in this scene so we went with it.

Karrie is trying to understand the strange deja-vu sensations xe's been having.

Puzzle Park
Contents:
Roque
Robin
Calamity
Squizzle

You say, "Intriguing..."
Calamity britishly says, "'allo there."
Squizzle says, "Hello, Karrie."
Roque tilts her head to the side. "Karrie, is it? Hello. What'
What's intriguing?"
Calamity grins at Robin, then does a backflip, to 'land' rightside up, never actually quite touching the ground.
You say, "Yes, hello. An interesting sensation... they call it deja vu. It's hit me again."
Squizzle says, "You feel like you've seen it all before?"
Robin says, "Hello there"
You say, "Yes, I do recall being here, the rings in this exact configuration, the parties present, but for the life of me, I cannot see what happens next."
Calamity britishly says, "Somebody steals your 'ead."
You say, "Hard to steal, as it is always with me."
Karrie's visor snaps down anyway.
Calamity shrugs. "'snot so 'ard, if you know wha' you're doing."
Roque chuckles.
Karrie smiles, "Then I hope you have the decency not to."
Calamity britishly says, "Never said Oi was gonna. Oi've go' 'eads enough, already."
You say, "I mention the deja vu because it's been becoming a concern for me, since I believe the actualities anomaly has triggered these sensations."
Roque tilts her head. "Could this just be part of Otissa's predictive abilities?"
Calamity britishly says, "No' jus' drugs, loike moine normally come from?"
You say, "I'm afraid I have not taken drugs since the anomaly, and Otissa holds no records of drugs in my system. It monitors me at all times. As for the predictive abilities of Otissa, it could be just that, a slight de-synchronisation caused by the glitch which has given me the illusion of familiarity. A certain retardedness in its calculations, by a few fractions of a second."
Robin's tail wags some as he relaxes, just listening to Karrie as he sits beside Roque.
You say, "I have been pondering a psychological test on myself, with the aid of another sentient, or perhaps several."
Calamity britishly says, "Of course, it's also possible tha' you're jus' imagining it, loike some other sentients."
You say, "That, Calamity, is precicely what I intend to confirm or deny."
Roque nods, keking softly. "What sort of test would you propose?"
Squizzle says, "Another sentient, or *perhaps* several?"
You say, "The procedure is risky, and although I enjoy the facilities of Up, they do not offer the type of procedure I am interested in investigating. I'm afraid the best solution would be Down."
Roque says, "What procedure?""
Karrie is about to speak, purses her lips, stops, ponders, and finally says, "A blank ractive."
Roque says, "Blank... ractive?" She tilts her head to the side, looking perplexed. "I'm afraid I don't follow."
Calamity arches an eyeridge. "A wha'?"
Robin looks confused, "what's that?"
Echo0 climbs out from the hole at the base of the cube tree.
Echo0 has arrived.
Calamity nods to the fox.
You say, "Normal ractives have a pre-established environment in which there exist certain rules, certain constraints and code, which dictate how the environment behaves. They trigger conscious thought."
You say, "Hello."
Echo0 says, "Hello."
You say, "A blank ractive, in essence, would null conscious thought, and the direct brain-to-brain crossover would, and does, in fact, allow simultaneous subconscious communication."
Robin waves a paw
Echo0 decompiles completely, leaving behind a pretty shining bauble.
Roque shudders slightly. "Given recent events, I think I shall pass on the idea, sorry."
Robin rubs himself against Roque's leg soothingly
Squizzle says, "Curious. I'm being extradimensionally paged, though... excuse me..."
Squizzle disappears down the hole at the base of the cube tree.
Squizzle has left.
Roque smiles and lightly scritches the back of Robin's neck. "Thank you, pet."
Karrie's vehicle projects a hovering holographic screen in front of xer face. "It appears Otissa has found such a facility in Top. Curious, but I'm grateful. I trust Top much more than Down."
Calamity britishly says, "Oi don' ge' why."
Robin blushes some, wagging his tail now
Calamity britishly says, "A' leas' Down doesn' 'ave so many chi'in queens."
Roque shrugs. "Down has its dark sides. Every Warp does. The typical inhabitant of Down can't be trusted not to be in some altered state of consciousness that could be problematic."
Karrie reads across the screen. "It appears these facilties belong to a different faction, one which holds its grounds in dogma. They have made their religious texts available."
A progress bar appears on the screen, moving slowly. The screen fades to 10% transparency. "Otissa is parsing the text. This may take a few minutes." says Karrie.
Roque looks confused for a moment. "Religious dogma? You don't mean the Victorians do you?"
Calamity britishly says, "Anything abou' rock being evil an' sinful?"
You say, "No, different, not the Victorian Retrotech Collective."
Roque actually looks oddly relieved. "Just checking; their views could be called religious or dogmatic from the right people, so I wondered."
Calamity britishly says, "Oi always though' they were flakey an' boring, myself."
Roque scowls slightly but doesn't bother to vocally respond. "Any word from Otissa, Karrie?"
Karrie's screen pops back to 75% opacity. "Oh, interesting, no wonder I had a good feeling about them. Their dogma revolves around the subconscious through Jungian psychology.
Calamity britishly says, "Jungle psychology?"
Robin snorts, "you'd probably think so" he says to her
Echo0 says, "They act as preservers of natural environments, in the hope of reducing conscious thought in those areas so that they may enter and attempt to divine the intentions of the Puzzlebox. That is, if I've identified the group correclty."
You say, "Echo0 is correct."
Calamity scratches her head. "Are the intentions of the Puzzlebox really so 'ard to figure ou'?"
Roque brightens. "Oh! I know to whom you're referring now, yes."
Echo0 says, "Layers of indirect meaning persist in all places, Calamity. This Mess we are in is perhaps the only direct conscious act of the Puzzlebox, obviously meant to attract attention. Therefore, it has an unobvious purpose as well."
Echo0 says, "Perhaps more than one. Do you believe that Strange is truly evil, for example? It is alien, certainly, to most minds."
Robin says, "they're hard enough for ME to figure out.. but I hope to one day understand them.. enough anyway"
Echo0 says, "Reality is bent. Make of it what you will."
Roque makes a face. "Forgive me for sounding like Besax, but 'evil' is the wrong word. Evil and good only apply in the context of an individual moral system, and to judge the actions of another by it is... misguided. Strange is /dangerous/ in that it apparently has no regards for the wishes of others, and by /my/ moral code that makes it 'evil' insofar as it is apathetic to something I consider critical."
You say, "But the Neo-Boreals seem to have a clean track record by Otissa's records."
Calamity snickers, and says, "Strange isn' evil. 'sno' its faul' tha' mos' 'oo go there are broadcas'ing signals, if acciden'ally, saying 'Assimila'e me!'.
You say, "In essence, although they do not care much for the structure of my homewarp, they do share our interest in modes of thought."
Karrie smiles disarmingly, "Strange is not at trial here. Let it be."
Echo0 says, "But they were on a terribly nice diverted track."
Robin grins
You say, "Strange is still not to be trusted, however."
Robin says, "yeah - I visited STrange once.. I didn't hang out there long at all. made me nervous, it did."
Calamity britishly says, "Dun' know why no'. Strange is a noice place."
Karrie raises xer brows, "Indeed? Do explain."
Roque says quietly, "I do not enjoy being in Strange. Even by myself, I feel crowded there. It is... uncomfortable."
Calamity britishly says, "Sure. Of course, Oi suppose i' *is* dangerous, for some, since they can' communica'e with the voirus."
Robin blinks at Calamity, "and you can?"
You say, "I'm assuming the answer is yes."
Calamity nods. "No' 'ard, if you've go' an open moind, an' are used to listeningto things many can'.
Karrie jokes, "At times, keeping an open mind with Strange is quite literal."
Robin eyes Calamity with suspicion, "uh-huh.. right"
Calamity snickers. "So Oi've no'iced. Oi've me' a couple of unusual 'emotopians."
Robin shakes his head, "that's .. not right at all."
You say, "Hemotopians tend to be an unusal bunch, statistically speaking."
Robin nods to Karrie, "that's an understatement"
Calamity shrugs. "Oi suppose so. Oi've been seeing quoi'e a few of them, though, la'ely.
Roque is automatically deleted to free up local space.
Roque has left.
Echo0 says, "A balance."
You say, "What has tipped it?"
Calamity britishly says, "The Bubbledolls."
Echo0 says, "What hasn't?"
Robin's ears perk, "I don't understand? they're unbalanced?"
Robin grins
Calamity nods. "Sure. The balance of strange an' charm."
Robin hrms, "so because there's more bubbledolls?"
Calamity nods again. "Sure."
Calamity britishly says, "The warps're sor' of loike the force. They balance themselves. Bu' this toime, it didn't involve alo' of dead jedi."
Echo0 says, "Charmvirus, which supposedly counters Strangevirus, certainly meets one level of balance. But has it been introduced outside its home warp?"
Robin laughs, "yeah, that's' good that it didn't.. they smell up a place badly"
You say, "Ah, a sort of radial symmetry."
Echo0 says, "You expected anything else from the Mess?"
Calamity nods. "Seems to me tha' the nexus an' 'ere are the only things tha' mess up the place's symmetry."
Robin grins, "and maybe this balances the nexus?
Echo0 says, "Perhaps, unless you place them at the center. The nexus inside the Park."
Robin hrms.. "that's always possible.. I've bene wondering if the Mess does things with space.."
Calamity shrugs. "Could be. Oi can jus' imagine some opposi'e to the park an' nexus, though. Probably connected with nothing."
Karrie perks xer ears, "Perhaps the Neo-Boreals will have some insight. They have been studying the Mess very attentively, according to this information."
Echo0 says, "Of course it does. How else would there be space enough for each Warp?"
Karrie muses, "Perhaps it is the location of the cube tree's roots."
Robin smiles, "that's entirely possible.. would be kinda funny if the nexus was located on a tiny point here in the nexus..
Calamity nods. "Could be."
here in the park
You say, "Have any of you interacted with the Neo-Boreals at any point?"
Robin says, "no, I haven't"
Echo0 says, "I may have met one, but not recently."
Calamity britishly says, "There aren' tha' many of them, are there?"
Echo0 says, "Lots of people enjoy altered consciousness. But to remove consciousness?"
You say, "There are a great many of them, according to statistics."
You say, "Albeit, below average for a faction."
Calamity shrugs, and says, "According to reality, though?"
You say, "Trustworthy statistics transcend and become facts, Calamity."
Robin listens, "I don't know much about them - how did they come to be?"
Calamity snickers, and says, "And, thus, most stastics are jus' bullshi'."
You say, "When taken out of context, yes."
Echo0 says, "They believe that the presence of consciousness inhibits subconscious communication. Why would a Neo-Boreal wish to be near us?"
Karrie suggests, "Perhaps because it wished to do so, Echo0."
Echo0 says, "Agreed, but the question was essentially rhetorical."
You say, "I'm sorry, but I tend to give knowledge where it is requested. I would feel most guilty not answering a question."
Robin stands up and stretches, "please excuse me, I need to get moving. Take care!"
You say, "Move well."
Robin grins, "I TRY"
Robin disappears down the hole at the base of the cube tree.
Robin has left.
You say, "Perhaps it is time I should head to Top to see if I can contact the faction."

Any Neo-Boreals I should know about?

All you ever wanted to know about the LoD

2004-05-17T05:05:39Z

As a person who tends to think too much, I often end up wondering about background information. It's a strange process which uses space cycles of my brain to figure out useless things. So following in the footsteps of wheel_of_masks, here is everything you wanted to know about the Land of Disguises, the creatures living within it, and Mod.

First off, the LoD isn't part of Charmwarp. It isn't part of any warp. Like Mel's museum, it can be considered apart from the Mess, although whether it's a part of the Puzzlebox is debatable, since it is quite large. Conceptually, the LoD is infinite, and its only borders with the Mess are small locations where a sufficient amount of costumes have amassed. Upon its surface, the LoD looks like a stylized copy of a natural landscape, but nearly all of it, from the ground to the clouds, is part of or the whole of a costume. With a few rare exceptions (Mod being one of them) the costumes are just costumes, composed of natural materials and like most inanimate objects, they have an IQ of zero, no mind and are incapable of movement.

The costumes themselves tend to be highly realistic duplicates of their analogues, both in appearance and it movement. Most aren't magical in the sense that if worn, they remain costumes without changing the physiology of the person wearing them. Mod does have the power to do this, but more on that later. Costumes can be either clothing (such as spacesuits, clown outfits, business suits, etc.), creatures (aliens, demons, angels, cartoon characters, etc.) or materials (metallic robots, stone idols, ice sculptures, etc.). Some may look realistic (such as a magma creature costume glowing and giving off steam) but would simply have that appearance.

The exceptions, as previously mentioned, are Mod and his subjects. Mod, the king of costumes, was the first animate costume. Although he may look like a living creature, he doesn't consider himself one, and it must be said that he isn't. He's a costume like the others, it's just that he doesn't need to be worn. Over the many many years he's been around, he's put on so many costumes there's no limit to how many he can take back off again. He has a few powers, being the king of his realm.
For one, he can steal a copy of the appearance of others, usually by removing it as if it were a costume identical to the figure underneath. This doesn't steal the skin itself, just the appearance of it, and doesn't harm the victim, though it does feel a little strange. He can also change any sentient's appearance from a costume to real and back again for whatever reason he desires.
Having no real body, destroying his physical manifestation simply sends his consciousness to another costume back in the LoD. It's an extremely effective backup system, and it's unclear exactly how it works.

His subjects are similar to him, although they have not developed his shapeshifting ability. Although they are usually very small slightly mutated parts, they can wear the various costumes of the land and manipulate them as if they were full humanoid figures. They are generally very friendly, though they enjoy trickery, and if someone happens upon the LoD without a clear purpose, they will shift the landscape, trap sentients and force them into silly costumes without their consent.

There are also creatures that resemble sentients but are, like most things in the LoD, also costumes. They're usually a product of Mod dumping whatever pieces of a soul he's been gathering up. They don't have many powers, but they do have power over the reality of their appearance. If worn, the wearer takes on the personality of the sentient costume. Although the wearer has control over the costume's actions, the costume has control over its reality and can retract its fastening device. Unlike Mod, the sentient costumes would quite like souls and nourrish themselves by being worn. They provide a certain amount of protection to their wearers, so that they can be considered symbiotes.

This concludes "everything you wanted to know about the LoD but didn't care enough to ask". Remember, it's right off Charmwarp now. Feel free to pay a visit!

Mod reads back. "Wow, that's a lot of stuff to remember!"

Zabraxis says, "Too many rules!"

mind_not_found says, "Both of you hush."

mind_not_found @ 2004-05-13T23:26:00

2004-05-14T03:16:16Z

Why is it that whenever I'm in the mood to play Mod, nobody else seems to be in the mood to play compatible characters? It's frustrating because I really could use a bit of that Mod magic right now.

Or maybe I shouldn't use my characters as an emotional crutch.