Gears

I lost track of this game. My apologies. I've been at a debate tournament [virtually] for today and some of yesterday. Sadly, the general populace has been very prolific, possibly due to the fresh meat. I might read everything in time to make some reasoned analysis, but I don't have any certainty about my schedule. I will be far more available soon, probably after Monday. I will be unavailable for several hours on Sunday as well, and I have a few tests on Monday. Perhaps I should have abstained from this game. After Monday, I do not foresee any activity problems, though my foresight has been occluded since... the accident. If anyone would like to give me a quick rundown on why people are suspicious of the people they are suspicious of [or link me to posts in which they elaborate on said suspicions], I would be most grateful. ALASTAIR was near the heart of the ship's supercomputer. The organization system seemed nonsensical at best, possibly due to the Cognitive aspect cluttering everything. Lingering trails of identification flickered by, burning into its memory. It sent a message into the machine, but received no response. As it progressed through the data structures, things seemed to grow... warped. Reality and binary seemed to blend. Time slowed as Cognition twisted. Everything was strange. It was lost. It was void. It was part of the machine. Tangled in its wiring, trapped within its code. It could do nothing but wait for the tides to settle into a usable form.

Arborae cikabeto

Always never sometimes me.

All that remains is the ashes of a worthless life, or a worthy life. In the end, they are indistinguishable. Flames and daggers and cloying smoke. Illume, the crystalline city on the planet of Karynoches, collapsed after a devastating earthquake.

Nine lives (ten, if you count the Yori era), all seasoned poorly. Well, that depends on what seasoning is preferred. Some prefer to awaken to normality, to knowing that they do not change. Others want variety. Bitterness stains many a tongue. I recommend a dash of lime and salt.

I will be unavailable on Saturday, though I might be able to hop in quickly since it is a virtual event. In addition, I have quite a few tests coming up, so my activity will be spotty. The primary objective of the Hemalurgic Intelligence is to die. To die, the HI must be freed of the Hemalurgists. As such, the HI will probably wish to quite suspicious while whittling away at the chains that bind it. Hemalurgists must stay alive for as long as possible. Surgebinders should prioritise gaining as much knowledge as possible since they can share that information anonymously. Kandras, getting in touch with a Surgebinder to share your scans might be wise to avoid being brutally slaughtered. Elim Surgebinders can anonymously spread misinformation. Feruchemists interestingly can move votes without losing their own vote, which is the penalty I've seen most often. This is the equivalent of adding 2 votes to the person of your choice (+1 to one, -1 to another) in a lynch between 2 people. Advice for the new people: Do not follow people because they seem confident or smart or clever. Think for yourself. Look at posts in isolation. What are people really saying? What are people trying to do? Things aren't right because everyone believes them. Never trust anyone, and never trust yourself. ALASTAIR had been online for 6287 seconds. Already, people were hurling accusations, mostly because of people being late to the meeting. Thought processes were sluggish, mostly due to the processing drain that was booting up. Hopefully, its processer would be able to handle the lag until it successfully integrated with the ship. The Hemalurgic Intelligence had developed a Cognitive aspect, and it appeared to have decided against aiding the crew, despite its primary objective. Truly a shame. The Hemalurgic Intelligence was grown from the Cognitive aspects of many deceased people, so developing its own Cognitive aspect was to be expected. However, the morality seemed to not have carried over. Integration would be difficult, but hopefully the Hemalurgic Intelligence wouldn't destroy ALASTAIR at first contact. It was an ally, after all.

The strange man with white hair and a sharp angled face disappeared through the water. I followed him and ended up in a strange place where thoughts manifested. Through wanderings, I ended up on this planet, where the air is so easy to breathe. I suppose joining this group will be entertaining. [A character of mine survived the game! Meet Fourth of the Dark, worldhopping trapper.]

Falling is mathematically equivalent to being stationary until you hit the ground.

It really depends on if AI have a Cognitive aspect.

Nyakorekarben

Like Sisyphus, you endlessly struggle fruitlessly to do things you are unable to.

Understanding is not your burden to bear.

This thread's death implies that one day, there will be nothing left to theorise because everything about the cosmere will be known.

I sincerely hope that one day, this thread will die a painful death.

Then let them eat cake.

Offence is for those who can afford the time and energy on ye of such little faith.

The remnants do not lend themselves to battle. Instead, burn them and reforge them.

Do not question the way the world spins. Any outcome is possible, but only this one is real.

Chain rule. Rule of chains.

Experiment Log #36

Faith He grins, his wide smile unnerving for those unaccustomed to it. His eyes gleam in the flickering candlelight, bright as the copper suns. The worshippers kneel and pray softly, murmuring benedictions in hopes that the fickle godling will help. They fear him, as they should. The decapitated head of god.

Ignorant incomprehension overcomes understanding, acquiring aid, oddities enhancing obfuscation, enhanced odds aiding acquisition, overcoming incomprehensive ignorance.

Rattle my bones. Rattle my bones. 206/10

"And this is the ballroom, large enough for every living royal on the planet to dance in, if they so chose." "Ah, splendid. I will need it expanded." "Expanded, sir?" "Why yes. I was told the ballroom would be large enough for every royal that had ever lived." "Of course sir, sorry sir. I'll get someone right on that." "And for your failure, you shall be the first of our number to grace these halls." "Excuse me, sir?" "Chamberlain, could you send in a cleaner? I'm afraid our guest made quite a mess. I thought you said he was bloodless!" "'Tis a euphemism for exceedingly pale, sir." "Oh, curse these mortals and their strange figures of speech!" "I am mortal, sir." "Well, not you, Chamberlain, but everyone else? Bah!" "Of course, sir." "Thank you. Ah, the cleaner arrived! She seems to be a bit bloodless herself, the poor dear. Oh, she's pulled out a sword. I didn't know that was a necessary cleaning utensil. Chamberlain, I'm afraid you'll have to get me a new shirt. This one's got a hole in it. And a new cleaner, if you please. Thank you very much."

"You there! Get out of there! That's the King's bedchamber! Who are you anyways?" "Mortimer Montgomery, Mortal Middle Management, and might I say you are looking particularly lively today. Fate is such a clumsy thing, always tearing the threads she weaves, but your thread seems to be remarkably intact. If you continue to be so fortunate, you might live to see your thirty-fifth birthday!" "I'm thirty-four." "Good for you! Knighthood is a dangerous job, and you've surpassed your life expectancy twice over. Really, I should have been more careful. I like to dawdle, you see. Five hundred twenty-seven seconds to linger in this mortal plane. A medic got to you before I tore out your strings." "What do you mean?" "Well, this has been a lovely chat, but I must be going. It's been four hundred ninety-three seconds, and I couldn't possibly leave His Majesty waiting. Don't wait up for me." "Stop right there! Don't move!" "My apologies for the mess. They'll be fine in a minute. At least I think so. I don't believe I've ever turned a human inside out before. Now, Your Majesty, shall we shuffle off your mortal coil?"