Saturday, 4 February 2017
Kay and Morphei talk about why Gods allow bad stuff to happen to humans
“Why must graceless men exist?”
“Because humanity is a great experimentation of character. You are not
very clever, you are naturally lazy and your only superpower is solving difficulties
under duress. You can stack experience to almost no limit, soon able to think
on your feet with almost no intuitive pre-programming. We did create the likes
of Neanderthals first and they got nowhere – for all their superior
intelligence, they were crafty, artistic, peaceful, loving and – wedged. It
wasn’t until we introduced Cro-Magnons into the playfield, a race half as
clever, wanting nothing more than rape and kill and take what others have
appropriated, that humanity moved out of the cave. Neanderthals learned
everything about nature and still failed to tame a single chicken. Cro-Magnons
harnessed animals, elements, water, earth, made machines, you name it. When
they ran out of caves, they built cities, when they ran out of land, they built
boats and sought the new ones. What kind of a madman thinks, when he stares at
something as vicious and bloodthirsty as the sea: I want to see what’s on the
other side. You don’t THRIVE, Paper, in the Garden. That’s why none of your young
kinsmen chooses to live in the Garden; they all want the world first. Every
other creature in creation serves a benevolent, almost benign purpose, stagnant
and flawless. Humans were made to better God. It will hurt to get to there, it
may take a little while, but everyone is betting on you. Why do you think this
planet of all the others has been spared time and again, fertilised time and
again, watered and warmed and seeded, regardless of what ill befell it, time
and again. You don’t think Mars is but a twin who eventually got left out of
the race?”
“It’s a little bit of a cruel experiment.”
“Ye, we get bored after a few billion years of staring at sea anemone court.”
“What does Herne get to say about all this?”
“You are his favourite children, but his children you are.”
“He is okay with his Father allowing this?”
“His father is busy with ruling the skies and the endless oceans of
darkness between possibilities that may arise some day. He hardly has time to
scold his descendants for every questionable action they offer.”
“It is not a very complicated family up there, is it, yours?”
“Let me put it in terms you will understand… If Herne’s clan were the
Medici and humanity were the renaissance artists, doctors, war marshals and explorers,
we are the plague that inspired you to get off your behinds and out of the Dark
age.”
Blimey. Alright then.
Friday, 3 February 2017
In other news,
England retroactively pardoned nigh 50.000 men for the crime of buggery – TOO FUCKING
TOO LATE YOU FUCKING ASSHOLES – and Berkeley university did nothing much to
stop a bunch of rioting LGBT lunatics from tearing down the school grounds in
order to promote love, tolerance, acceptance and social justice. The reason? The
Nazi white supremacy misogynist Milo Yiannopolis was going to speak there…
Nevermind that Milo is a gay BBC loving Jewish immigrant whose only crime is
questioning the logic of the SJW clique… The clique who promises to burn down
every copy of his book, because he is a Nazi.
You know? THAT
logic.
Bearing served
a scary quote by his boy Churchill: The
fascists of the future will be called Anti-Fascists … I know it only means
that people doing the clean-up after party will be the worst, but still. Irony much.
The Good Suramaritan
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| The original rebel and main quest giver, Thalyssra |
I have spent the last two days doing the Good Suramaritan achievement, completed by ten chain quests which take you through the fall (and hopeful rise again) of the Nightfallen - a messed up tribe of hot peeps on bad times. They have managed to ruin their civilisation much in the same sense that their relatives the Night Elves, by relying too heavily on their source of power, a Night Well. (There was also that bit where the Legion came and their queen betrayed them and broke the world, but details.) Having been cut off from their magic, they withered into insane, starved wreaks, some behaving entirely like animals, others scraping by, begging for help. You find a hopeful niche - quite literally - in the storyline early on, a cave with an old powerline crossing and a tree with an option of being revived. A LOT of questing later, and some really well written quests those were - the cave becomes refuge for the saved, salvaged and reinstated Nightfallen and the tree, with a little help from yours truly and several other colourful characters, starts to bare fruit. Although the officials continue to need your supply of mana to keep them going, refugees bode well and start to make the cave a cosy home.
The quests send you all around Suramar land, but mostly into the annoying fucking city, handsome as it may be. You get to wear a mask, but it is easily broken by guards and several missions take you into elites areas. On the plus side, you get to fly to your corpse, as running around the city is a nightmare. And so, slowly and surely, you cross paths with vicious lot (which is sooo fun to murder/assassinate eventually), with kind lot, with angry lot, passionate lot, the needy and so on. Truly, a lot of work. And it makes you feel genuinely accomplished once you've done everything you've done for those people.
Ridiculously well written script that is.
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| Shielded city, locked in timelessness and away from moonlight. The capitol Dalaran in the back |
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| The garden where you get to make vine and see your contacts get murdered. |
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| Messed up beyond repair folk |
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| The cave with a new tree showing promise |
Wednesday, 1 February 2017
“I am an avid student of kitsugi for
one, and more importantly, getting your attitude from underneath your
plastic-surgery-induced-coma remains the easiest and the hardest chapter of
your haptics to date. Half of it stuck to the skin and wouldn’t be scrubbed off
even if we tried. You were an incredibly stubborn carcase. And before you
accuse me of it - I didn’t try to serve you back some skim-read version of your
memories like a complete snake doctor, sieving them through some timely
morality and an apex of a pop-referential jargon. I barely had to lift a
finger. You left the front gate wide open. The bulk of it trickled through the
umbilical cord to Marowit’s personality and trope guidelines as he inherited them along with the seat.
You may think him an unworthy hiemal sun, but the connection ... I mean, I was
the connection, now that I think about it. And I’m titanium.”
(Kay, assuring Morphei she knew what she was doing salvaging his optimism.)
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