So, what’s all this then?

Well, it turns out that people didn’t stop making RPGs once I finished writing and posting The RPG Medium. Go figure. On top of that, it turns out that there are a lot of games that I didn’t see before I wrote the treatise, some of which fit better than the ones I had chosen to support a specific concept or question.

I’m not going to rewrite my old work, but over time enough new RPGs have crossed my path that it makes sense for me to continue the treatise; an Errata, if you will, that brings in new ideas and supports some old ones.

So to start with, I’d like to lay out a few assumptions going forward; things that are important, but aren’t substantial enough to warrant their own post.

A month and some change later, and I’m back. Am I ready to be back? That’s a different question. I have pondered the idea of extending my hiatus, but that way lies inertia, and I have enough issues with that these days, thank-you-very-much. So every concern must be dismissed. My buffer is still unsatisfactory…but what would be enough? Noriama still little better than a second draft? Let it be seen anyway, warts and all.

I swear I didn’t plan it this way. I wouldn’t have if I could have; I’m put now in a somewhat difficult position of wrapping up both The Poems of Madam Albithurst and The Watch in the Sand in one post. I’d rather do it over two, but time and tide wait for no one; So… The Poems of Madam Albithurst Did my experiment work? It’s obviously not my place to say.

November 15, 2048 Serious discussion begins on the Boards on how to restructure the governments of the world, given the advances in communication and Nanocule technology. Some in America suggest decentralizing the major halls of policy; demolishing the White House, 10 Downing Street, the Kremlin, et. al., and moving all official correspondence to the Boards. Others argue for dismantling the concept of representative government entirely, and moving to a pure democracy.

And that is how my poem ends. A satisfying ending for myself, and certainly for my companions, though I am sure it hasn’t entirely ended for all of them. Mx. Image and Mr. Porist, of course, left for the Tides of Three Shades, though Mr. Porist seemed far more insistent than Image. The poor Marq turned an eye towards me with a mild click of bemusement before they both left. I think our chitinous friend had already attained more than xer goal could provide.

Now I suppose you desire an explanation for what happened once we had finished our dance. Alas, this is a poem, and poetry provides truths not through narrative, but through thought, heart, and soul. The Great Construction was completed, but so far I think never used. The engineers and scientists went home, happy with their efforts and with the simple assumption that someone somewhere might finish it someday. A commonplace occurrence for those who are only responsible for the middle of a project.

The door was large and steel. The room was cold and dark. My Archonarchian friend ushered me inside, and closed the door behind me. The light came from high above, creating a cold silver circle for me to stand in. I certainly felt at the time that the dark emptiness was a refreshing change from the chaotic outside. The noise had given an ache to my head, and now I found myself at rest.

June 20, 2036 An upgrade is released to the Boards, allowing Nanocules to record sensory input, rather than requiring an external phone or recording equipment. Hand-held devices are now unnecessary to completely utilize the Boards, as video recording is done through the users eyes, while audio recording is done through their ears. Physical recording equipment begins to disappear. Professional cameramen begin to train themselves to keep their gaze steady without blinking for long periods of time, while sales of professional recording equipment drops sharply, as even the high end recording devices cannot compete with the perfect quality and ease of Nanocules.

In the centuries before recorded time, before the Myriad Worlds were set in their spiraling dance, the great giant Yurghyn stood tall on the land of Ut-cart. Ut-cart was, among the known world, the most verdant and beloved of lands, with people who cared well for each other and the balance-of-things. Yurghyn, however, did not care for the balance-of-things, for the evil that he saw in the wasp sting and the viper’s tooth repulsed him.

I am not ashamed to admit, I was crying when we left Lady Song. I did not look to see if my companions too had been affected by her words; more fool me, I thought it polite. Of course, had I been born of another time and perhaps another place, I would likely have found it the height of callousness to allow them their thoughts alone. Of course, that lovely part of me that embraces my Sensate nature was already crafting a poem — but now I found myself in conflict twice over.