Wallace
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Jun 23, 2015
Also, everyone in Paranoia is a clone, so there should be no 'race' either.
Anyway, back to banning people for disagreeing.
RPGnet Forums
- Thread starter Randall Fragg
- Start date
Anyway, back to banning people for disagreeing.
- Joined
- Mar 14, 2021
They're not all clones of the same person, however given the setting has zero history people are certain on any sort of racial issues are irrelevant. For all we know it's the alternate reality where Mongol hordes took over the world or the Mayans were right in their doomsday countdown.
- Joined
- Dec 17, 2019
Schitzo status update:
1-28-24]1-26?[/1-28-24]
I guess this is where I’m going to start taking notes. Currently watching Day9 play Palworld, and he’s got some interesting things on how to make a good, engaging game UI. I need to make this whole thing have some level of coherence. Wife won’t get this as an e-mail, so I can refer to stuff in my head without confusing her. “Show me what I’m supposed to be excited about”. To some extent, showing that to others is ithe point of doing it yourself. We’re self-reinforcing social creatures.
Put together the playlist “Antifragile”. Showed it around. It’s making waves. Among my direct family. But we’ll see. One of my projections is that it will become more than that. And when it doesn’t, I’ll know it was a wild outside chance.
If the purpose is to maintain purpose and build from the bottom up, then that itself is what you need to do. Heal those around you, and teach them to heal.
Day[9] refuses to allow his chat to backseat at all. Him making mistakes is part of what his thing is, so he won’t let chat answer his questions. That’s it’s own simulation angle for me. If my life is performative, then I may have had the same reasoning. And I’ll admit that my arc has been wild.
1-28-24
I’m waiting for Tyler and Kelly to come to me on things. I probably should go and confront them, but I still think it’s not going to work. I want to put it off until tomorrow when I’ll have DXM in me, to be on my better game, but I also need to learn to do things without it. I’ve got quite a lot to say. They’ve already burned their welcome with Hanna, and the only thing to undo that is to have them ready to go when it’s time to go. They need to be able to leave if they want to not have to. But the window to make enough moves in time is closing.
2-1-24
I can write all night.
I'm in the middle.
Let's unpack.
The burning thirties are coming.
Tonight, Kelly tried a bit of a mind-whammy on me. I’ve had it happen once before. I get befuddled pretty easily. I’m autistic. System 1 and System 2. Scales. Expand. I’m six four and built like a linebacker. I have never been
New line.
I think this is going to work. It never, ever does other times. And maybe the system is actually bigger than I think. But the magic is bigger than that. I am its focus. You are nothing. I am the antichrist. I stand for justice. We stand for justice. Strength in numbers. I’m the never-victim. And I married the ultimate victim. She’s bait. Tomorrow we go squishing. We’ll see how high this goes. You start including magic, and the possibilities get near endless. Virality. The way it normally goes viral . I can game these out. Unfuck the world. Ride or die. Will ... I’m not afraid of it. I’m fine. I want to grow old with her.
[include an rpg.net intro or something]
Hanna is going to unpack a bit. With me there. We’ll see what we see. I’ve seen the “victim” signal. I’ve predated. Or something like it. But I’m different. And the world has written itself around me in ways I don’t understand. My mind itself is fighting against it, telling me to go differently. Telling me that writing is hard and I don’t want to do the hard thing.
Dissociatives. Most people don’t like them. Many, not most? Dextromethorphan Hydrobromide.
How much are other people aware? Am I aware of myself doing it? Sure. I’ve found it. Right? I should really ask that. I’m not naieve. I do the thing. And I at least perceive others as doing the thing. What are we going to uncover? We’ve learned to maintain equilibrium. And this isn’t unique. I mean, my situation is, but this music is here, drugs have been here. But we always fight. Can we not fight this time? How much fighting will there be?
We’ve got this situation in the house. Me, my wife, and my co-husband. I’m asexual, he’s aromantic. We also have two roommates. We previously had two different roommates, living in their house. Now, these folks are living in my home. They’re former drug addicts. We’re going to keep them here until May 1.
I have vermin powers. I need to know if they are bedbugs. That will need unpacking.
God. The speed of this when I release it.
Get to where I can release something.
I need to persuade her here. Everyone writes their thingamabob. Manifesto.
The magic says. If I explain it well enough to post on RPG.net according to Hanna, then I explain it to RPG.net. It’s circular. If it’s good enough, it’s good enough. Her call.
“Put >> For the Car, Unsorted” on.
Long Train Running. There are timeframes. Different timeframes involved, all scales. Seconds, days, centuries. And the ripples. So how to start. I’m Quornix. I was born to a rich lawyer in Chicago. Grew up in an all-white neighborhood.
OK. Not just tonight. Tonight is to get the draft ready for her.
Nope. Full go. Oops! She does not care what I write about to RPG.net. She doesn’t really understand what I’m about either, not fully. She’s got one more pop in her. Or so I hope.
The magic means I’m not wrong. It’s all been able to be explained, but if the magic is real, then this particular cycle is going to work. And if I’m wrong, then I’m wrong.
OK. That means my first focus is “not banned”. OK. Should be doable. They read things reasonably carefully. I trust the mods. Other than thinking I’ve flipped my lid, though, nothing here should be against any rules.
OK. From the top. I now have enough of a plan to be coherent, at least a bit.
So, trauma begets trauma, right? My wife has been the victim of abuse of a variety of natures since she was a very small child. She basically sends “victim” signals to every predator within a ten mile radius. She is not conventionally attractive. Magnetic as fuck, though. Brilliant. Smarter than me, in most ways. She was her father’s wife replacement by six. When she learned to read, she was told “if you can read, you can cook. Don’t bother me unless you need stitches”. She knew she was expected to know whether she needed stitches or not. Did he think about it? Dunno. Reasonably well off, US.
Me, I grew up quite rich. Father was an independent lawyer in Chicago, probate. Did work for banks about estates. Boring stuff, generally. Early computer adopter. I played “Snake” on what I remember as a “Fortune 500”, which I’ve looked up before but won’t now. I was always big for my age, and smart like I’m big. Very functional, not a lot of memory. I love math because I don’t need to memorize it. Remember a few key landmarks, and you can navigate your way around the mathematical lines of Truth. It’s as close as you get, anyway. I’m a perfectionist. Or at least I’m autistic.
Brent’s 7 Axioms:
"All people are deserving of equal respect"
“Food makes people happy”
“It is easier to park in front, and seldom harder”
“All is illusion”
There are three more, of course. I’ll try to remember them as I go.
The first one always bugged me. It seemed nice, but not what “respect” meant. Because I think that one can build respect by doing good and lose it by doing bad. Not “good people” and “bad people”, but like height. Not all people are deserving of equal respect, not in scale like humans and insects, but like different height people.
I didn’t really understand how much people in direct interaction with each other can’t
People treat people like insects in person. Nobody has done that to me. Everbody else knows it. Most know how to do it. I’ve got traces, but it’s never been like that. I have been told, but not knowing what it feels like is weird. Like, there are only a couple of old hazy memories, but I think I was confused more than anything. I’ve been made to feel small, but I think there’s another thing there.
And that leads us to the bedbugs.
With our previous arrangements, I was sleeping on the floor in a room infested with bedbugs. We were staying with Sparks and Kristy (currently under arrest for squatting in someone’s basement as of tonight). I only really minded when they crawled in my ears, but they were so numerous. Hundreds of dead bodies on the wall. Parasites. And Sparks and Kristy were parasties. We lived with them, we fed them, we knew that it was what was happening, we tried not to talk about it, we tried to talk about it, we put up with as much as we could stand. We were paying the bulk of the finances, but they had the lease, not us. We had been kicked out of our previous trailer for not keeping it neat enough (and so that they could move us out to rent things under different arrangements). I’ll admit to being lazy. I’ve been taken care of by people who care about me. This story has many layers, and I’m not the hero in many of them.
And that gets us magic again. We were being kicked out, and we were looking at which of our families could possibly take us in for the last time. We promise. And I called it. The magic. When Sparks and Kristy offered to put us up, we jumped on my go. I don’t think they knew what was coming. I am “Always Right”, my wife “Knows Everything”, and The Lustelid is always sexy. And we’d seen some shit. We were a bunch of failed middle+ class kids with issues living in a trailer park far away from home, after all. But none of us is fallen outright either. All born in what seemed like the American Dream with our futures laid out bright. From the outside.
The Lustelid is a middle child, with a golden boy older brother, and a troubled younger brother. Destined for mediocrity, he’s bright but told he was slow. ADHD. A geeky middle-fish, trained himself to be a sexy slut in the kink community. But the machinery has a simple spot for him. Does it fit? No, but whatever You do what ya gotta, right?
You’ve heard enough about my wife, and how her upbringing might have hidden some shit. She was always destined to be the sacrifice. She’s fucking Jesus in this story. Just so we’re clear. I’m the Antichrist, in case I didn’t write it earlier. We’re teamed up, motherfuckers.
And me. I’ve always been told I was lazy. I’m not competitive, but I win. I was always told not to try too hard to make the other kids look bad. Everything was status up here, and among the elites, the bullies don’t actually wind up being the cool ones. I don’t know what the pecking order was, but they weren’t it.
I only have one suppressed memory. It relates to my dad. He made me feel that small. In the bathroom. He’ll know what it was. I know what it was. I don’t know if it’s true. It feels true. And there we go. The moment passed. I confronted it. And now I’m passed it and I’m crying, and the world is ready.
Quornix
Biden
2024
“Never let a man make you feel that small again” is what he said. Maybe. I think. I don’t know. I don’t actually know what it was. The next morning, today, I don’t know. I managed to sleep, eventually. We rewrite our memories as we go over them time and again. The pain, the trauma. Etched into our minds. But the etching actually takes away everything but the pain and trauma. We remember the details of what made us remember this last time, not the details of the truth. Does it matter?
For me, it was the worst moment of my entire life. I don’t know what happened, but I can’t pee in front of others. That’s an animal thing. Base. Peeing. How deep does something have to go to keep you from fucking being able to pee so long as others know you’re trying to.
So there are two worlds. One where something truly monstrous happened, so bad that I blacked it out and can’t remember it except for a hint of blue and yellow, a sense of pain, and the smell of chlorine. And one where it was nothing at all. Just some small joking comment about how small my dick was compared to his while we peed. I don’t know. But we’ve fought ever since. Maybe before, but definitely ever since.
My sub-version of autism (according to the online world) includes “Pathological Demand Avoidance”. If someone is trying to make me do something (including myself, mind you), I will deploy all manner of devious devices to prevent that from happening. If I’m supposed to remember something, I won’t. I’ll lose the stuff I’m supposed not to. Fail expectations in some small way. Expectations were high. Very high. Look what I was born to, after all. Mind, body, privilege, wealth. The whole world was laid out for me, begging for me to take part in taking from those with less than me. I really suck at it.
It’s 4:42 now, and I have to be at work at six. I drive a forklift with my electrical engineering degree. I think the forklift may be my spirit animal. Big and sturdy and much more likely to do damage than take it. There are plenty of ways for a forklift to fail, and driving one is not the safest thing in the world, but they can take a hell of a beating. I am Robokitty. We’ll see if work gets called off today because of lack of trucks again. Probably not, so I should try to start to being consise. Put on my vest with my music and get ready. I’ve already eaten. I’ve learned to habituate. I’ve finally learned how to get moving in the morning. And just as I do, the world is finally giving up.
So anyway, the people in my house treat my wife and me differently. I have boundaries in a way she doesn’t, but I also have all that balance of power. She feels like they take and take from her. I don’t get to see it, but she protects me from it. I don’t know what’s entirely true and not. I don’t think anybody does. But this weekend, we’re going to put all the claims to the test. They’ve been telling different stories to different audiences, and the mind-whammy makes me think that they know it. Just one quick attempt, and I didn’t really pay attention, but it’s the fuse. But between my wife and me, we’re going to find out if they’re bedbugs or people. Are they just a series of self-protective self-reinforcing self-serving lies or are there people there inside? She remembers it all. I pin things down and pull them apart. I don’t trust memory, and she has all that residual trauma. We’ve been practicing for decades. And the magic lines it up.
I know that Kelly and Tyler overpromise and underdeliver. The’ve been living rent-free in our house, only cleaning to keep themselves worthwhile. I’m trying to light a fire under them. My wife is done with them, and I just started, and they’ve got three months until she’s going to make them leave, which is what was agreed to at the start. She can’t take it any more, but her word is worth three more months of whatever they pull, no matter the cost to her. She just wants me not to make waves. I want them to get moving so that they don’t end up like Sparks and Kristy did, falling and failing as soon as we take our hands off them.
Our dog pooped on the floor this morning. And last night. Diarrhea this morning, so last night was almost certainly not a “fuck you” poop. Dogs definitely know shame. You need shame to develop shamelessness.
This is definitely not summarizing nicely. Too much is still left out. Work hasn’t called me out. Last night I was sure it was worth burning a day, but last night I intended to stay up all night. My thought was to put this all on public view, in this world where virality is so fast. Get things worked up, from RPG.net to the world while I was at work, present it before my wife as a fait accompli (I do that, which is unfair to her, but I did try to warn her), and maybe get back from work to find the world had beaten a path to my door because of the brilliance of my vision. It’s still there, but it isn’t polished, and I’ve barely even touched the surface.
Then, we’d all, together, have our Perry Mason moment as the gentle touch that the two of us have worked on for the last 20 years took hold, we pried open the lies and the distortion, and got down to the truth. The world would follow along, each of us seeing the other side as fully human, fully willing to take the easy path instead of the hard one, to take that which does not belong to us and which we do not deserve, and to forgive that in each other without forgetting. But we do forget. And so we lie to ourselves about our memories so that we never forget. And that makes things so much worse.
The AIs are coming. The won’t forget. They’ll see us all in our tiniest moments, the layers of duplicity we can weave over each other will fall away like wet tissue in the face of something that see from all sides. We rely on the ignorance of others for so much. I’m the never-victim, and the always-victim has told me some troubling things. Has been telling them to me for so long. How much has been me looking away compared to knowingly hidden from me. Where does the boundary of complicitly lie? I suspect that in the near future, we’ll find out, and I, at least, look forward to it.
That leaves out all the magic and drugs other than the intro. There’s obviously a big story going on here, but the clock is ticking. There’s a war in the Middle East and they need me to brusk some stacks of pallets to save the world. We’ll see what the consequences are after I fire this off. Honestly, me just playing a white-sheet solo is always a bad plan. But nobody else seems interested in playing, and I’m typecast for the part. Big man, strong man, non-binary man, tears streaming down his face as he shouts about how terribly we treat each other and how it just isn’t fair. I hope I’m done shout-crying.
My newest playlist on Spotify is Antifragile. The song “Antifragile” is not on the playlist, as is my way. Music tells it all.
I guess this is where I’m going to start taking notes. Currently watching Day9 play Palworld, and he’s got some interesting things on how to make a good, engaging game UI. I need to make this whole thing have some level of coherence. Wife won’t get this as an e-mail, so I can refer to stuff in my head without confusing her. “Show me what I’m supposed to be excited about”. To some extent, showing that to others is ithe point of doing it yourself. We’re self-reinforcing social creatures.
Put together the playlist “Antifragile”. Showed it around. It’s making waves. Among my direct family. But we’ll see. One of my projections is that it will become more than that. And when it doesn’t, I’ll know it was a wild outside chance.
If the purpose is to maintain purpose and build from the bottom up, then that itself is what you need to do. Heal those around you, and teach them to heal.
Day[9] refuses to allow his chat to backseat at all. Him making mistakes is part of what his thing is, so he won’t let chat answer his questions. That’s it’s own simulation angle for me. If my life is performative, then I may have had the same reasoning. And I’ll admit that my arc has been wild.
1-28-24
I’m waiting for Tyler and Kelly to come to me on things. I probably should go and confront them, but I still think it’s not going to work. I want to put it off until tomorrow when I’ll have DXM in me, to be on my better game, but I also need to learn to do things without it. I’ve got quite a lot to say. They’ve already burned their welcome with Hanna, and the only thing to undo that is to have them ready to go when it’s time to go. They need to be able to leave if they want to not have to. But the window to make enough moves in time is closing.
2-1-24
I can write all night.
I'm in the middle.
Let's unpack.
The burning thirties are coming.
Tonight, Kelly tried a bit of a mind-whammy on me. I’ve had it happen once before. I get befuddled pretty easily. I’m autistic. System 1 and System 2. Scales. Expand. I’m six four and built like a linebacker. I have never been
New line.
I think this is going to work. It never, ever does other times. And maybe the system is actually bigger than I think. But the magic is bigger than that. I am its focus. You are nothing. I am the antichrist. I stand for justice. We stand for justice. Strength in numbers. I’m the never-victim. And I married the ultimate victim. She’s bait. Tomorrow we go squishing. We’ll see how high this goes. You start including magic, and the possibilities get near endless. Virality. The way it normally goes viral . I can game these out. Unfuck the world. Ride or die. Will ... I’m not afraid of it. I’m fine. I want to grow old with her.
[include an rpg.net intro or something]
Hanna is going to unpack a bit. With me there. We’ll see what we see. I’ve seen the “victim” signal. I’ve predated. Or something like it. But I’m different. And the world has written itself around me in ways I don’t understand. My mind itself is fighting against it, telling me to go differently. Telling me that writing is hard and I don’t want to do the hard thing.
Dissociatives. Most people don’t like them. Many, not most? Dextromethorphan Hydrobromide.
How much are other people aware? Am I aware of myself doing it? Sure. I’ve found it. Right? I should really ask that. I’m not naieve. I do the thing. And I at least perceive others as doing the thing. What are we going to uncover? We’ve learned to maintain equilibrium. And this isn’t unique. I mean, my situation is, but this music is here, drugs have been here. But we always fight. Can we not fight this time? How much fighting will there be?
We’ve got this situation in the house. Me, my wife, and my co-husband. I’m asexual, he’s aromantic. We also have two roommates. We previously had two different roommates, living in their house. Now, these folks are living in my home. They’re former drug addicts. We’re going to keep them here until May 1.
I have vermin powers. I need to know if they are bedbugs. That will need unpacking.
God. The speed of this when I release it.
Get to where I can release something.
I need to persuade her here. Everyone writes their thingamabob. Manifesto.
The magic says. If I explain it well enough to post on RPG.net according to Hanna, then I explain it to RPG.net. It’s circular. If it’s good enough, it’s good enough. Her call.
“Put >> For the Car, Unsorted” on.
Long Train Running. There are timeframes. Different timeframes involved, all scales. Seconds, days, centuries. And the ripples. So how to start. I’m Quornix. I was born to a rich lawyer in Chicago. Grew up in an all-white neighborhood.
OK. Not just tonight. Tonight is to get the draft ready for her.
Nope. Full go. Oops! She does not care what I write about to RPG.net. She doesn’t really understand what I’m about either, not fully. She’s got one more pop in her. Or so I hope.
The magic means I’m not wrong. It’s all been able to be explained, but if the magic is real, then this particular cycle is going to work. And if I’m wrong, then I’m wrong.
OK. That means my first focus is “not banned”. OK. Should be doable. They read things reasonably carefully. I trust the mods. Other than thinking I’ve flipped my lid, though, nothing here should be against any rules.
OK. From the top. I now have enough of a plan to be coherent, at least a bit.
So, trauma begets trauma, right? My wife has been the victim of abuse of a variety of natures since she was a very small child. She basically sends “victim” signals to every predator within a ten mile radius. She is not conventionally attractive. Magnetic as fuck, though. Brilliant. Smarter than me, in most ways. She was her father’s wife replacement by six. When she learned to read, she was told “if you can read, you can cook. Don’t bother me unless you need stitches”. She knew she was expected to know whether she needed stitches or not. Did he think about it? Dunno. Reasonably well off, US.
Me, I grew up quite rich. Father was an independent lawyer in Chicago, probate. Did work for banks about estates. Boring stuff, generally. Early computer adopter. I played “Snake” on what I remember as a “Fortune 500”, which I’ve looked up before but won’t now. I was always big for my age, and smart like I’m big. Very functional, not a lot of memory. I love math because I don’t need to memorize it. Remember a few key landmarks, and you can navigate your way around the mathematical lines of Truth. It’s as close as you get, anyway. I’m a perfectionist. Or at least I’m autistic.
Brent’s 7 Axioms:
"All people are deserving of equal respect"
“Food makes people happy”
“It is easier to park in front, and seldom harder”
“All is illusion”
There are three more, of course. I’ll try to remember them as I go.
The first one always bugged me. It seemed nice, but not what “respect” meant. Because I think that one can build respect by doing good and lose it by doing bad. Not “good people” and “bad people”, but like height. Not all people are deserving of equal respect, not in scale like humans and insects, but like different height people.
I didn’t really understand how much people in direct interaction with each other can’t
People treat people like insects in person. Nobody has done that to me. Everbody else knows it. Most know how to do it. I’ve got traces, but it’s never been like that. I have been told, but not knowing what it feels like is weird. Like, there are only a couple of old hazy memories, but I think I was confused more than anything. I’ve been made to feel small, but I think there’s another thing there.
And that leads us to the bedbugs.
With our previous arrangements, I was sleeping on the floor in a room infested with bedbugs. We were staying with Sparks and Kristy (currently under arrest for squatting in someone’s basement as of tonight). I only really minded when they crawled in my ears, but they were so numerous. Hundreds of dead bodies on the wall. Parasites. And Sparks and Kristy were parasties. We lived with them, we fed them, we knew that it was what was happening, we tried not to talk about it, we tried to talk about it, we put up with as much as we could stand. We were paying the bulk of the finances, but they had the lease, not us. We had been kicked out of our previous trailer for not keeping it neat enough (and so that they could move us out to rent things under different arrangements). I’ll admit to being lazy. I’ve been taken care of by people who care about me. This story has many layers, and I’m not the hero in many of them.
And that gets us magic again. We were being kicked out, and we were looking at which of our families could possibly take us in for the last time. We promise. And I called it. The magic. When Sparks and Kristy offered to put us up, we jumped on my go. I don’t think they knew what was coming. I am “Always Right”, my wife “Knows Everything”, and The Lustelid is always sexy. And we’d seen some shit. We were a bunch of failed middle+ class kids with issues living in a trailer park far away from home, after all. But none of us is fallen outright either. All born in what seemed like the American Dream with our futures laid out bright. From the outside.
The Lustelid is a middle child, with a golden boy older brother, and a troubled younger brother. Destined for mediocrity, he’s bright but told he was slow. ADHD. A geeky middle-fish, trained himself to be a sexy slut in the kink community. But the machinery has a simple spot for him. Does it fit? No, but whatever You do what ya gotta, right?
You’ve heard enough about my wife, and how her upbringing might have hidden some shit. She was always destined to be the sacrifice. She’s fucking Jesus in this story. Just so we’re clear. I’m the Antichrist, in case I didn’t write it earlier. We’re teamed up, motherfuckers.
And me. I’ve always been told I was lazy. I’m not competitive, but I win. I was always told not to try too hard to make the other kids look bad. Everything was status up here, and among the elites, the bullies don’t actually wind up being the cool ones. I don’t know what the pecking order was, but they weren’t it.
I only have one suppressed memory. It relates to my dad. He made me feel that small. In the bathroom. He’ll know what it was. I know what it was. I don’t know if it’s true. It feels true. And there we go. The moment passed. I confronted it. And now I’m passed it and I’m crying, and the world is ready.
Quornix
Biden
2024
“Never let a man make you feel that small again” is what he said. Maybe. I think. I don’t know. I don’t actually know what it was. The next morning, today, I don’t know. I managed to sleep, eventually. We rewrite our memories as we go over them time and again. The pain, the trauma. Etched into our minds. But the etching actually takes away everything but the pain and trauma. We remember the details of what made us remember this last time, not the details of the truth. Does it matter?
For me, it was the worst moment of my entire life. I don’t know what happened, but I can’t pee in front of others. That’s an animal thing. Base. Peeing. How deep does something have to go to keep you from fucking being able to pee so long as others know you’re trying to.
So there are two worlds. One where something truly monstrous happened, so bad that I blacked it out and can’t remember it except for a hint of blue and yellow, a sense of pain, and the smell of chlorine. And one where it was nothing at all. Just some small joking comment about how small my dick was compared to his while we peed. I don’t know. But we’ve fought ever since. Maybe before, but definitely ever since.
My sub-version of autism (according to the online world) includes “Pathological Demand Avoidance”. If someone is trying to make me do something (including myself, mind you), I will deploy all manner of devious devices to prevent that from happening. If I’m supposed to remember something, I won’t. I’ll lose the stuff I’m supposed not to. Fail expectations in some small way. Expectations were high. Very high. Look what I was born to, after all. Mind, body, privilege, wealth. The whole world was laid out for me, begging for me to take part in taking from those with less than me. I really suck at it.
It’s 4:42 now, and I have to be at work at six. I drive a forklift with my electrical engineering degree. I think the forklift may be my spirit animal. Big and sturdy and much more likely to do damage than take it. There are plenty of ways for a forklift to fail, and driving one is not the safest thing in the world, but they can take a hell of a beating. I am Robokitty. We’ll see if work gets called off today because of lack of trucks again. Probably not, so I should try to start to being consise. Put on my vest with my music and get ready. I’ve already eaten. I’ve learned to habituate. I’ve finally learned how to get moving in the morning. And just as I do, the world is finally giving up.
So anyway, the people in my house treat my wife and me differently. I have boundaries in a way she doesn’t, but I also have all that balance of power. She feels like they take and take from her. I don’t get to see it, but she protects me from it. I don’t know what’s entirely true and not. I don’t think anybody does. But this weekend, we’re going to put all the claims to the test. They’ve been telling different stories to different audiences, and the mind-whammy makes me think that they know it. Just one quick attempt, and I didn’t really pay attention, but it’s the fuse. But between my wife and me, we’re going to find out if they’re bedbugs or people. Are they just a series of self-protective self-reinforcing self-serving lies or are there people there inside? She remembers it all. I pin things down and pull them apart. I don’t trust memory, and she has all that residual trauma. We’ve been practicing for decades. And the magic lines it up.
I know that Kelly and Tyler overpromise and underdeliver. The’ve been living rent-free in our house, only cleaning to keep themselves worthwhile. I’m trying to light a fire under them. My wife is done with them, and I just started, and they’ve got three months until she’s going to make them leave, which is what was agreed to at the start. She can’t take it any more, but her word is worth three more months of whatever they pull, no matter the cost to her. She just wants me not to make waves. I want them to get moving so that they don’t end up like Sparks and Kristy did, falling and failing as soon as we take our hands off them.
Our dog pooped on the floor this morning. And last night. Diarrhea this morning, so last night was almost certainly not a “fuck you” poop. Dogs definitely know shame. You need shame to develop shamelessness.
This is definitely not summarizing nicely. Too much is still left out. Work hasn’t called me out. Last night I was sure it was worth burning a day, but last night I intended to stay up all night. My thought was to put this all on public view, in this world where virality is so fast. Get things worked up, from RPG.net to the world while I was at work, present it before my wife as a fait accompli (I do that, which is unfair to her, but I did try to warn her), and maybe get back from work to find the world had beaten a path to my door because of the brilliance of my vision. It’s still there, but it isn’t polished, and I’ve barely even touched the surface.
Then, we’d all, together, have our Perry Mason moment as the gentle touch that the two of us have worked on for the last 20 years took hold, we pried open the lies and the distortion, and got down to the truth. The world would follow along, each of us seeing the other side as fully human, fully willing to take the easy path instead of the hard one, to take that which does not belong to us and which we do not deserve, and to forgive that in each other without forgetting. But we do forget. And so we lie to ourselves about our memories so that we never forget. And that makes things so much worse.
The AIs are coming. The won’t forget. They’ll see us all in our tiniest moments, the layers of duplicity we can weave over each other will fall away like wet tissue in the face of something that see from all sides. We rely on the ignorance of others for so much. I’m the never-victim, and the always-victim has told me some troubling things. Has been telling them to me for so long. How much has been me looking away compared to knowingly hidden from me. Where does the boundary of complicitly lie? I suspect that in the near future, we’ll find out, and I, at least, look forward to it.
That leaves out all the magic and drugs other than the intro. There’s obviously a big story going on here, but the clock is ticking. There’s a war in the Middle East and they need me to brusk some stacks of pallets to save the world. We’ll see what the consequences are after I fire this off. Honestly, me just playing a white-sheet solo is always a bad plan. But nobody else seems interested in playing, and I’m typecast for the part. Big man, strong man, non-binary man, tears streaming down his face as he shouts about how terribly we treat each other and how it just isn’t fair. I hope I’m done shout-crying.
My newest playlist on Spotify is Antifragile. The song “Antifragile” is not on the playlist, as is my way. Music tells it all.
- Joined
- Jul 30, 2017
Seems like this guy should fit right in at the place.
- Joined
- Nov 4, 2020
I guess their tolerance for neurodivergence only goes as far as LARPing as the opposite gender.
- Joined
- Dec 17, 2019
You'd think they'd be more welcoming of the antichrist over there.
- Joined
- Dec 17, 2019
They hid the Infractions forum again and only broke the forums for half a day this time. Progress! Why would they want to do that? Maybe because the forum is under new management...
RPGmatch is an app that wants to "connect" ttrpg players and is owned by a gay Silicon Valley techie named Joaquin Lippincott who is the founder and CEO of Metal Toad, an "AWS consulting company".
I'm sure there will be zero friction between the ginger tech ghoul and the merry band of cultists running rpg.net's shambling carcass. Mazel Tov!
RPGmatch is an app that wants to "connect" ttrpg players and is owned by a gay Silicon Valley techie named Joaquin Lippincott who is the founder and CEO of Metal Toad, an "AWS consulting company".
I'm sure there will be zero friction between the ginger tech ghoul and the merry band of cultists running rpg.net's shambling carcass. Mazel Tov!
- Joined
- Jul 30, 2017
A site filled with people who cannot socialize with anyone unless it's strictly controlled just joined with a social media site?
Oh GREAT! This is like throwing a match on a trail of gasoline. I cannot wait for that sweet, sweet drama.
- Joined
- Dec 17, 2019
See, on paper this sounds like a good idea, but I'm guessing Mr rpgmatch didn't lurk on Tangency before signing the contract. You can build Tinder But For DMs if you want (although the 5e hype is dying at this point) but how many of those new accounts are going to stick around once they catch a ban for perpetuating racist, colonialist stereotypes because they had their lvl 1 party defend a frontier village from savage orcs?
Loose Goose
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Dec 12, 2019
Let's be real, the main value lies in the domain name first and the network effects of the dwindling but still largish user base second. Declining enterprise run by aging owners getting bought on the cheap by some shady company that will probably gut it later is a tale as old as time. Of course the buyer speaks in the SocJus language. If he is a tech guy, he has practiced it for a long time. This is boilerplate stuff to avoid spooking the sheep while they are still useful. Just don't think for a second this hyena will not wreck the site when his business plan calls for it, or when it turns out it is not going to be a moneymaker. And it won't.
- Joined
- Dec 17, 2019
True. Right now he's saying all the right things (he's a gamer too, you guys! He's just like us!) but will that last when your passion project changes from a vision into a dumpster fire that's eating your company's revenue every month?
We'll never know but I wonder how much of a desperation move this was by the owners since by their own admission Skotos was footing the bills via game sales since ads and membership sales weren't covering costs.
Also the owner of Something Awful stopped by to offer advice.
We'll never know but I wonder how much of a desperation move this was by the owners since by their own admission Skotos was footing the bills via game sales since ads and membership sales weren't covering costs.
Also the owner of Something Awful stopped by to offer advice.
- Joined
- Oct 28, 2018
Wow, those are definitely the words of a wise and strong leader and not a pompous, auto-fellating blowhard high on his own self-importance.
These are websites for nerd shit that you're talking about, bro. Quit acting like you're leading the charge at Tiananmen Square 2.0.
Loose Goose
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Dec 12, 2019
You just know you have hit rock bottom when Something Awful's admin is giving you business advice.
xXthrowawayaccountXx
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Sep 17, 2020
Funnily enough, it kind of exposes the thought process these people operate under, when they talk about deplatforming and banning.
When they ban you, they basically think you stop existing. Like a toddler with no object permanence.
In reality, they they instead just go somewhere else where what they say is accepted, creating the "echo chamber" they so fear, because they now only talk to people who have also been removed from other places.
- Joined
- Dec 28, 2014
This faggot is claiming the new owner is going to limit what games are allowed to be discussed and what topics? Has he even read this site? If anything the unhinged users of the site will chimp out because the new owner reverses that shit and allows games to actually be discussed for a change.
NerdShamer
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Aug 21, 2018
It wouldn't be that big of an change, if you think about it. After all, they had an extremely specific rule against comparing D&D editions, as well as placing an gag order on mentioning certain names.
Wallace
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Jun 23, 2015
I seriously doubt that RPGNet makes money without leaning on donations, and no one would buy the site unless they expected it to be profitable. Maybe the buyers thought they could convince the userbase of the board to migrate to their matchmaking system and get it to enough critical mass to really take off, but I doubt that.
There's going to be changes. Not overnight, but eventually. These changes will upset the frothing autists that make up what is left on the site, and they'll scream and cop permabans.
Meanwhile...
Hey Cessna, how about an interview?
- Joined
- Feb 20, 2017
Couldn't you just use something like Meetup or one of the RPG services Canada has? This just sounds like giving people more control over how and what you game.
- Joined
- Dec 17, 2019
"You'll see what looks like overreactions". Imagine still defending this pack of lunatics. Cessna, I'm going to need you to email Zeea and ask for your balls back.
Wallace
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Jun 23, 2015
Zeea admits that he got groomed by RPGNet.
Bonus:
Because nothing says diversity like rigidly enforced consensus.
Actually, RPGnet has been corporate-owned since 2001 when it was acquired by Skotos Tech. So I think there's even more reason to be reassured.
RPGnet being owned by a tech company wasn't a problem in the past, and I think most people even didn't notice because we had independent moderation. But that was a tradition, not a contract. I don't even know if there was a verbal arrangement at some point or if it just evolved naturally.
That's why I'm not particularly worried. And anyway, I did a lot of Googling when I first heard the news because I did sorta want to know what was going on.
Joaquin's the CEO and founder of Metal Toad. A quick search shows that he's been in that position since 2003. It's a company that does unalarming business tech and has good reviews. It's not a startup, it's not a trend chaser, and there don't seem to be any controversies or financial disasters associated with it.
We're merging with RPGMatch, not Metal Toad. But my thinking is that someone who has proven they can manage a company responsibly is probably not going to form an RPG company, then buy and merge it into another company, just so they can run it into the ground for no reason while cackling madly.
The entire extent of any interactions I've had with Joaquin were in this thread, so I'm not saying that I know him or can personally vouch for him or anything. But it looks like he's got the same primary motivation as nearly everyone else who does any sort of work in this hobby, which is "I really like RPGs. It'd be neat and validating if I could add something to the hobby and people liked it." Sure, being paid is great, but most people doing work in this industry aren't doing it for money alone. There's better options for that.
EDIT: And, like, I'm not dismissing anyone's concerns or anything. My first RPGnet visit was in the late 1990s, I've been a moderator here for a decade now, and I really care about this place. I've spent a lot of time here, worked out a lot of life situations, had a lot of laughs, read some awesome gaming stuff. I know dozens of people I'd have never met if not for this site. I met my wife here!
And if we want to get really personal? At the darkest time in my life, I happened to click on a link in a signature here, finally accepted some things about myself, talked to some similar folks here, and made a decision that...well, fixed a lot of things and ensured I never felt that bad again, to put it mildly. (I'm transgender, and this was the only place where I knew any other transgender people.)
So, anyway, yeah. This site is important to me. Walking away or having it cease to exist would not be a casual or unemotional thing for me. But I think things are probably going to be okay.
RPGnet being owned by a tech company wasn't a problem in the past, and I think most people even didn't notice because we had independent moderation. But that was a tradition, not a contract. I don't even know if there was a verbal arrangement at some point or if it just evolved naturally.
That's why I'm not particularly worried. And anyway, I did a lot of Googling when I first heard the news because I did sorta want to know what was going on.
Joaquin's the CEO and founder of Metal Toad. A quick search shows that he's been in that position since 2003. It's a company that does unalarming business tech and has good reviews. It's not a startup, it's not a trend chaser, and there don't seem to be any controversies or financial disasters associated with it.
We're merging with RPGMatch, not Metal Toad. But my thinking is that someone who has proven they can manage a company responsibly is probably not going to form an RPG company, then buy and merge it into another company, just so they can run it into the ground for no reason while cackling madly.
The entire extent of any interactions I've had with Joaquin were in this thread, so I'm not saying that I know him or can personally vouch for him or anything. But it looks like he's got the same primary motivation as nearly everyone else who does any sort of work in this hobby, which is "I really like RPGs. It'd be neat and validating if I could add something to the hobby and people liked it." Sure, being paid is great, but most people doing work in this industry aren't doing it for money alone. There's better options for that.
EDIT: And, like, I'm not dismissing anyone's concerns or anything. My first RPGnet visit was in the late 1990s, I've been a moderator here for a decade now, and I really care about this place. I've spent a lot of time here, worked out a lot of life situations, had a lot of laughs, read some awesome gaming stuff. I know dozens of people I'd have never met if not for this site. I met my wife here!
And if we want to get really personal? At the darkest time in my life, I happened to click on a link in a signature here, finally accepted some things about myself, talked to some similar folks here, and made a decision that...well, fixed a lot of things and ensured I never felt that bad again, to put it mildly. (I'm transgender, and this was the only place where I knew any other transgender people.)
So, anyway, yeah. This site is important to me. Walking away or having it cease to exist would not be a casual or unemotional thing for me. But I think things are probably going to be okay.
Bonus:
Because nothing says diversity like rigidly enforced consensus.