These are the tales of Ishmael the Wise, former citizen, scholar, priest and soldier of Khemi.  His exploits were many and his downfall tragic.

I, Sasur-amen, chronicle the many exploits of those bound to The Great Serpent through devotion to the Sacred Crocodile of Set Militant.  Read and hear my words and know this tale of wonder.

Now the Library was nearing completion when Ish-mael of Khemi began to frown and say, “How can Father Set be glorified at The Oasis of Nekhet when the Priestess Safiya has been away so long? Our order will move the Sanctum so that all will know the power of Sobek, the Rager of Set”.

And when I, Sasur-amen, saw that Ishmael was full of consternation I replied, “My lord Ish-mael the Wise, perhaps we should tarry longer and wait, there is still much to be done and the slaves are happy to toil for the glory of Set!  Let this be His glory for now!”

But alas, Ishmael, being full of militant fury for Father Set, did order the engineer to construct a trebuchet, and thus did threaten the Setite Priestess in her domain.

Now the Priestess Safiya got word that the Order of the Sacred Crodocile was building beside her temple and that their leader, Ishmael of Khemi, was demanding the Sanctum be moved so that “Father Set could be properly glorified.”

And Safiya, being enraged by these words, and that she was away seeking counsel from her mentor, left the East at once and returned to her home.

What she had in mind for Ishmael, she held to herself in the council of her own dark heart.

But after arriving in her chamber, she took quill and parchment and then wrote a letter addressed to Ishmael.

This is what she wrote: “Dear Ishmael of Khemi, leader of the Order of the Sacred Crocodile of Set Militant, I am Safiya, High Priestess at Nekhet, let us share a meal and put aside our differences.”

Once he had received the letter and read it, Ishmael, called the wise, wrote his own letter and sent it to Nekhet in the hands of a slave.

“Dearest High Priestess Safiya, chosen of Father Set, I am happy to join you for dinner this evening.  It will be lovely to make the acquaintance of my close kin and to enjoy a proper Stygian meal.  And, as you know, I would like to discuss the condition and placement of the Sanctum.  Sincerely, Ishmael of Khemi.”

When the time for the dinner came, Ish-mael wisely directed his personal guard to accompany him and the two then left and met Safiya at the bridge near her quarters.

Upon seeing the two, High Priestess Safiya asked of Ishmael, “Will I be setting two plates for our dinner tonight?”

Upon hearing this question and seeing that Safiya was exceptionally beautiful and seemingly harmless, Ishmael made a fatal mistake and sent his guard away.  For upon completion of the dinner, and when Ish-mael was reclining next to the beautiful Safiya, her treachery revealed itself and Ishmael was fatally wounded by a poisoned dagger.

And as Ishmael lay dying, Safiya’s guards took him to the altar of Set, and while Ishmael cursed and called on his devotion to Set through Sobek,  Safiya sacrificed his heart on the Sanctum altar.

Thus did Ishmael perish, and his body was properly cremated.

So says I, Sasur-men, archivist at Apepthys. 

I previously mentioned that I would cover “death” in this next installment of Sociological Observations 2 until I became enmeshed in an IC (In-Character) storyline that has forced me to think more deeply about what it means to “love” another person.

It’s an age-old question that has been addressed by many, many others in the past, and for good reason.  Because Love, after all, is the only real treasure in this entire world, and we all know it.

Soren Kiergarde, in his famous book Works of Love, pointed us to the Christian conception of agape love, a notion that gives us a potential benchmark to understand the varieties of “love” that can and does exist in human relationships, real or IC.

In the case of what the bible calls “agape love” it has been understood as the love that God shows to all of creation, i.e. a perfectly unbiased and unconditional love that knows no boundary.  Now we can debate whether or not the god envisioned in the bible is in fact as loving as his followers claim him to be, but that is beside the point here.

The point is to give the reader a conceptual reference point for thinking about the varieties of love on a scale, or as types.  Putting scaling aside for the moment, I want to describe types.  Well known among types of love are of agape, but also eros and phileo.  Eros is erotic love and phileo is a loving friendship.

I have long been familiar with these conceptions of love but my own in-character relationship has tested my understanding of the later two.  But how?

One observation that readily comes to mind is that through this kind of play the PC must come to terms with the tactics of love.  When I first thought of this idea of tactics as a matter related to creating romantic IC relationships and storylines in-game, the first next thought that came to mind was a passage from the bible.

Now before we get to the bible passage, let me be clear that I am not suggesting that any religion is sufficient to understand the concept of love; and much less does religion seem to have answers concerning the phenomenology of love. 

That said, the passage that came to mind is 1st Corinthians 13:4-8:

⁴ Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. ⁵ It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. ⁶ Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. ⁷ It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

⁸ Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away.

For me, these seem rational, true, and the embodiment of what I have called here “the tactics of love”.  Nevertheless, I do not assume that these high and noble-sounding ideas are the embodiment of “love” for every player and there may be other points of reference for role-playing.

Another observation that comes to mind is that playing a loving character who loves is much more difficult than playing a hateful character who hates.

And finally, I am struck by the fact that there has been social pressure in my RP group to abandon “love”.  

And I promise next time will be death. 

 

Pan had only been working in the tavern in a few days when he first laid eyes on sweet Natsuki, the Yamatai girl.  She was seated at a table talking to a Stygian woman of the darkest complexion and motives.  And being wise, Natsuki saw Pan and asked him to take a seat beside her lest the Stygian, who she took for a witch, tricked her and cast some sorcerous spell upon her in their solitude. 

So Pan being Pan, and always friendly and polite, obeyed and sat beside the two.  The one woman was barely covered with anything at all, but and the other, namely Natsuki, was dressed in full armor and her face was covered. 

As the ladies talked Pan listened and wondered why the one lady had her faced covered.  But as he listened the conversation to just that: the mysterious mask covering the face of the armored and petite younger woman.  

A few moments later Natsuki, as Pan would soon learn her name was, removed her mask and Pan saw the most beautiful face he had ever seen in his short life.

But that is a story for another day because today’s story is the story of Pan, a former prisoner of the Bone Caravan, now rescued and coming face to face with the Demon-man Roble.

When Roble came into the Worldy Pleasures Tavern Pan did not recognize him but he saw and imagined that he was a warrior of great strength and power.  And being frightened by Roble, Pan hesitated a moment before mustering his courage and walking up to him and saying, “Welcome to the Worldly Pleasures Tavern, I’m Pan, can I get you anything?”

Roble, being Roble, did not answer the young man, but instead asked the room a question, “Was there an undead attack on the tavern today?”

Hearing this Pan mustered up his brave side again and replied, “Yes sir, and I helped Lord Faust to drive the minions from the porch!”

Just then, Muirne, who was standing nearby groaned and said, “Pan, see about that ALE I asked for!”

“Yes sir, replied Pan as he quickly turned to get Muirne his ale and Roble said, “Then I shall require a pound of your flesh!”

Terrified, Pan handed the mug of ale Murine and asked, “What does he mean Samirah?”

Samirah had been standing near the stairs the whole time, not saying a word. And so when Pan turned around for the ale he saw her and was comforted.

“Pan,” said Samirah as she took hold of his arm, “Come with me right away!”

“Yes mam,” said Pan as he obediently followed Samirah, terrified and in tears.

The two ran down to the basement and out the back door and then to the elevator up to Adutos, Lord Faust’s keep.  Once safely inside the Keep Samirah and Pan continued up the stairs and eventually up onto the roof.  From there if things worsened with Roble, they would be able to see him coming and perhaps slow him down and escape capture.

“From here I will be able to shoot Roble with an arrow to the face and keep you safe Samirah!”, explained Pan as he regained his sense of courage and nocked an arrow in his bow.

“That is the plan, but we will only be able to slow Roble down Pan, and let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” replied Samirah, still visibly shaken and serious.

“Roble? He’s no match for Lord Faust!”, replied Pan confidently.

“I hope you are right…”, replied Samirah, but not as sure.

(To Be Continued)

Pan never expected to be exiled in the first place! He was strong, or was it brave? and he hadn’t done anything wrong!

On the contrary, Pan had been an exceptionally obedient slave in Stygia, had always loved his life, and was happy serving the Ptelomaes family.  The Ptelomaes were not Stygians but for some reason- a reason unknown to Pan the slave child- were allowed to live among the Stygian Nobility at Luxor.

But the story of Pan’s life as a boy in Stygia must wait until another day! For now, the story is about Pan, living and working at the Worldly Pleasures Tavern, in exile; it is the story of Pan, the free man, who is still a slave boy in attitude, maturity, and spirit.

When the undead began their attack on the Tavern Pan felt terrified until he spotted Lord Faust, standing like a stone wall, confident and ready to defend his Tavern and the people who live their lives bound to his patronage.

So seeing that his master was strong and courageous Pan said to himself, “I will help Lord Faust, I have been practicing my archery every day!”

And then Pan said out loud: “I will help you turn away the minions Lord Faust!”

“Then take your position upon the parapet while I drive away these undead from the porch!”, replied Sir Faust.

Pan didn’t know very much about Faust, except that he appeared to be was a mighty warrior, and was apparently of Noble birth… though he wasn’t sure about the noble birth part exactly… but Pan always assumed anyone who wasn’t a slave was a noble, “in this way nobody would ever be offended or angry with me”, he reasoned.  But Pan was greatly impressed with the older man, Faust, the man that he now considered his master, even though he was “free”– “whatever that means?” thought Pan. 

So after hearing Faust command him, Pan ran up and into the keep and then onto the roof of the tavern.  From that vantage point, Pan could fire down at the undead beasts with his bow and help drive the wicked swarm from his, now beloved, tavern home.  Pan fired his arrows over and over again at the minions and only once accidentally hit Faust.

“Damnit boy! Watch your aim!”, yelled Faust as he narrowly, but expertly, blocked the arrow, “Slow down if you need to, do you hear me!”

“Yes sir, sorry sir!”, replied Pan as he tried to obey and fire straighter through his feeling of embarrassment after being chastened.

“No time for feelings,” thought Pan as he said out loud to himself: “I am brave and I am a good shot, and I will not accidentally fire an arrow and hit my Lord Faust!”

Wooossh, thunk, thunk. thunk, woosh!

Pan began again to fire arrows at the undead in a steady motion, and as he focused on his timing and his training, his accuracy began to improve.

“Lord Faust! Lord Faust! they are beginning to withdraw! you have saved us!”, cried out Pan, feeling confident and happy that his home was safe again, if only for a little while.

But Pan did not hear the reply because only a microsecond after he said those words of confidence he was, suddenly and quickly, knocked out and captured. One of the Necromancer’s minions climbed had onto the roof in silence and had then easily overcome the young man… and then slipped away…

(To be continued)

It has been 7 months since my last set of sociological observation notes.

In February of 2019, I listed some broad social dynamics that I routinely observe as a role-player, dynamics that I believe have a significant impact on how online RP (role-playing) culture, specifically situated around Discord, is socially constructed. You can find those sets of observations here.

In those notes, I focused on the social group that is Discord with concepts that are more oriented towards society in the techno role-playing community.  The focus of the comments that follow will be the individual Role Player, his or her emotional experiences, player character death, and how power shapes gaming experiences on selected Conan Exiles servers.

First “emotions” and “emotional experiences” — there is a term for the experience that I have almost every time my character is in a role-play where strong emotions are also in play.   That term is “emotional bleeding”.

 A Google search of the term provided the following references:

https://geekandsundry.com/coping-with-emotional-bleed-during-roleplay/

https://www.asanet.org/virtual-rituals-community-emotion-and-ritual-massive-multiplayer-online-role-playing-games

https://search.proquest.com/openview/ebf0afea3f45dd628bc4ace29ee79ecf/1?pq-origsite=gscholar&cbl=2032023

https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/the-squeaky-wheel/201509/video-games-impact-your-feelings-in-real-life

Click to access 05163.50372.pdf

Podcast: https://www.podbean.com/media/share/pb-sbab7-877f8c

It follows that the more “skilled” and/or “experienced” role-players have more skill in separating “character emotions” from “player emotions”, and are able to control the bleed.

Although I have observed several OOC (out of character) arguments, in-game and out of game,  bleed is often effectively governed (or regulated) by server rules, peer pressure, and admin intervention.

My own experience with bleed has been painful and instructive. Painful because I have been surprised and troubled by the intensity of the emotions that I have experienced as a player.  Most, if not all, of these highly charged emotional events, have been fantasies of my own construction, based on very little information, and full of wild-eyed madness.

And so I hypothesis that any serious role-player will experience bleed as a normal phenomenological experience that all must past through and process.

Phenomenology, the study of consciousness as experienced first-person, is an excellent way to understand the player experience of emotional bleed.  I say this because, in the case of emotions felt by the player, the player most often has very little to no information about other players in real terms.  Instead what each individual player has is a composite of information about the persons they are playing with that is based on role-playing experiences, character biographies, consent sheets, and OOC interaction in-game and on Discord.

This means that emotional content is highly first person oriented and based on symbolic interpersonal relationships, past experiences with others, or some other material content that has shaped their PC (Player Character).

I sense that there are other observations to be made about the role of emotionality in techno-roleplaying communities, but bleed is the central concept.

I’ll cover death in the next post.

A Letter with a handwritten date:

To: All the faithful who remember the Pharaoh as “Set in the moment of his power!”

From: Call me Sasur-amen. Long have I been writing down the exploits of the Warrior-Priests who gather under the banner of the Sacred Crocodile. These were great Stygian souls who defend both Faith and Pharaoh and did manifest the deific power of the Great Pharaohs of Stygia.

Naturally, the accusations against the Order can be nothing but false, given our great and abiding love for the Stygian religion.

But curse my circumstances now!!

For I do not know what will become of me… or the Order… or of what mysterious plans the Great Serpent has?

And curse my circumstances!– because I find myself condemned, and here in this dungeon beside many of the persons of Ish-mael’s company.

And so reader, I, Sasur-amen, a condemned man, soon to be exiled, leave this note behind to document the secret that my confession before the Crown (Set save me!) was false.

……I suppose this is my honor to die for such a noble cause. But I do not wish to meet my final end!– there are still many stories to tell, and wonders to archive!

Nevertheless, my will to live aside, my fate, and my faith are in the coils of the Great Serpent of the Ocean, who guides even the darkest of ships on their journeys.

BUT if I, Sasur-amen, do live, know that there will be tales of wonder written down; there will be tales of those who survive exile, and of those who live, breath, eat and make love under the eyes of the gods.

Farewell, my country,

Signed Sasur-amen of Khemi

Writing about the ocean on a day when I feel about as far away as a person can get.

There aren’t any waves except the ones I’m making, the tide just went out,

The seagulls aren’t bothering me.

There’s no sand in my shorts or ferry boat ticket stubs in my car,

No sudden burst of coconut scent when the bronzed waitress passes by to deliver Mai Tai and Margaritas,

No sneaking out back with the band to smoke a joint,

No chicken shit bingo.

I’m about as far away as a person can get.

“If he had only listened to me none of this would have ever happened in the first place!”, thought Theodora as she prepared the petals.  She had been drying the rose petals inside her diary for quite some time, and before that, she had died them black.

She had never intended to send them in a letter, but now she wanted to let a certain treacherous thief that she knew what he had done to cause her so much trouble.

So Theodora took out 13 of the petals and placed them inside one of her envelopes,  sealed it with her waxy Red S, and sent it West with her raven.

“When he gets this he will know that I know,” thought Thedora.

How had things gone wrong with Kitsune?  It seemed like a budding alliance: he was a Setite, he was a thief, and she knew that he would make a good ally and a solid member of her clandestine organization in service of King Chaka.

“I should have never left the camp, despite my fear!”, she said out loud to herself, “But if I had stayed here… I wonder… with the necromancy, and the corruption in mind… how would things have gone for me?”.

(to be continued)

The guard took hold of Theodora as she almost fainted upon the sudden knowledge that it was Shani who was arresting her, “and what for?”, she asked herself as her heart broke and she began to weep.

“Shani! What are you doing to me!?!”, screamed Theodora as she wept.

“You will be bound until your trial Theodora of Vendhya”, replied Shani, flatly, sternly.

At this Theodora tried to fall again as she struggled with the guard and wept in large waves of body shaking sadness that fell upon her like a stone.

“Shani, I was your comfort when you were a slave in this camp!”, cried Theodora, “show me mercy now, what have I done to have you before me like this, my only and closest friend, how can this be?”.

“Look here Theo, at entry 8 of your diary!”, replied the Queen as she showed Theodora the book, “you have condemned yourself and will face trial!”.

“My diary!? You have access to all my thoughts because I love you Shani, you are my closest friend, my only friend, that is why you have access to my diary!”, she exclaimed, and then she turned inward, whispering, “you break my heart…”.

Upon hearing these words and seeing that Theodora was in great distress, Queen Shani hesitated, and tears began to flow down her cheeks as well, “and you break my heart Theo, why have you forced me, forced us, to arrest you? Can a King rule without laws, you must face trial!”

Suddenly the Queen’s demeanor was stern again and she became angry and said, “Why did you flee? and not stay and seek justice with Chaka?”

“What justice my Queen?”, replied Theodora, “did you not see what he did to poor Audhilde before I slew her?”

The Queen continued, ignoring what her prisoner had said, “And I am angry that it is I imprisoning you right now Thedora!”; “You will be allowed to move about the camp under guard, but do not try to leave, on pain of death, do you understand Theodora?”

“As you wish my Queen,” replied Theodora, and then she did not speak to Shani again.

Theodora’s Diary Entry 11:

Here I sit and weep. All that I have done is to make Chaka a great king. But he torments me night and day and will not forgive me for killing the Nordheimer. Curse Sekhet! She asked me for it and then colludes against me. Taking my slave Kitsune and inciting Chaka to tar and feather me. I will never forgive her for her this. I would have given her an army. Nevermind her. For now, Chaka is my hope, he always was, and all I have done is for him.

But now my heart is broken beyond repair. My friend has handed me over. Where is Pia? she would not keep her comfort from me in my hour of need. I hope that they kill me so that I do not have to look at her or be in her company again, it is too painful. Why has she done this to me? She even took my things for the bracelet.

I will never speak to her from my heart again. Farewell, my love. 

 

Theodora left her tower in the cold mountains, she left everything.

And now she longed to see her beloved friend again, “Shani, how I miss you Shani, soon I will see you again!”, she thought to herself as she got out her quill and parchment.  She then happily wrote a letter to let Shani know– sending her raven with it to Camp Bone Claw, the center of the Darfari in Exile Kingdom.

Necromancy changed Theodora and her mind had become clouded with corruption.  Only the time away from the camp had given her mind a chance to cleanse and refresh. Her thoughts were clearer now and she longed to return to her tower and to her Shani.

 She penned her letter thus:

“Dearest Shani, I am returning. While I have been away I have come to realize that the necromancy has been corrupting my mind and keeping me from my goal of removing the bracelet. I will return to my tower in preparation to go back to the Black Keep and get the next artifact. Your friend, Theodora the Vendhyan.”

After that, Theodora started the long trek back to Camp Bone Claw.

When she arrived at her tower room the first thing that she noticed was that Shani was not there as she had said in her letter.  Then she looked inside her chest to find that all of her precious things, things needed to remove the bracelet, were gone.

“Where is Shani?”, she said to herself, “I long to see her and she is not here.”

After that, Theodora sat down to wait a while and write in her diary:

This is what she wrote:

“I have returned to my tower in the Darfari camp.

I do not know if I am safe here but I was losing my mind before I left for the north, though I did not know it at the time.

The necrotic powers that Oteku gave me were causing me to lose focus and enter the world of the corrupted undead– it is likely because I am not fully skilled in the arts as I should be.

I will stay here until I am ready to venture forth again to the Black Keep and secure the next artifact I need to remove the bracelet.

Hopefully, the corruption that has afflicted me will not hinder my goal.

–But it is nice to be back in my room. Shani is here sleeping now. She is my beautiful guardian and my best friend. The great Serpent blesses me with such a friend. But what will Chaka do? I wrote him that letter and shamed him, will I die here in this camp? Gods help me.”

When Theodora had finished writing these words in her diary she became restless and went out onto the balcony of her tower and called out, shouting: “Shani, Shani! Where are you! I must see your face at once!”

It wasn’t long before the Queen came riding toward her tower on the cable car, and Theodora’s heart leaped for joy.  “Shani!” said Theodora, jumping up, and with a bright smile and joy in her heart.  The Queen smiled and waved back as she walked down from the car and into the tower.

Theodora waited on the balcony for her. Then, when Shani didn’t appear as soon as she expected her to, went down to her room to find the Queen there, with a guard.

“Shani! It is so good to see you again!”, said Theodora as she hugged her Queen in joy.

Queen Shani’s face did not return the smile… and soon Theodora was in chains.

(to be continued)