#margin fiction

OK, who told you that the Fuchsia Ruler has anything to do with the Yellow Yard? That's unsubstantiated fanwank and I will have no part in it.

**ARC-measurement mnemonic**, n.: a set of actions of graduated difficulty that are used to benchmark how much Accumulated Roleplaying Coefficient you happen to have, based on how many of them you can actually perform. Generally specific to a Classpect pair, although lower-accuracy measurements are still possible as long as you share an Aspect with the classpect that the mnemonic was designed for.

Impossible and eldritch gods? Really? One of them's pots of overcooked spaghetti with keysmashes for names. The other is winged sperm that are also on fire.

First, second sessioners, they think Sburb’s like Dwarf Fortress: endless procedurally generated worlds and lore, infinite replayability, boundless depth, never gets old, etc.

Paula hauled the grill out of her sylladex and dropped it on the ground in front of her. It was followed by a rolling drawer cart full of food, a minifridge, a shade tent, and a gallon of ice cream. That gallon of ice cream had to be from presession - nobody’s found a way to alchemize the stuff and have it still taste adequate. She’d been saving it for weeks, then. This cookout must’ve been a big deal to her. “So,” she said, plunking herself down on a folding chair. “I want to start experimenting with the flow of the Battlefield. It could buy us months of session time, but it could also trigger the Reckoning prematurely, so I want to make sure I have everyone’s permission.” She pulled out six clipboards, each with a sheaf of papers and a pen, and started passing them around. “First, look at section 1a...”

The population of paradox space is uncountable. But we do know how many living people are on Replayer networks as of this timestamp: 2,091. This is approximately a large high school’s worth of people, or a small town just large enough for a proper main street. From some perspectives, this is a spectacularly large number. We have the expertise of thousands, about a hundred organized groups, a multiversal web archive dozens of petabytes deep, and more people than you could make friends with in several lifetimes. But this number is also frighteningly small. It is small enough that every single death notice will devastate someone you know. It is small enough that if you do not do something yourself, it is likely to never get done. Even a relatively broad interest may only have a hundred people in it - and, if you’ve alienated those people, then you may well have nobody left to talk to.

You agree not to hold Skaianet liable for any loss of life, limb, computers, data, property, reputation, heirlooms, luck, ideas, senses, sleep, appetite, friends, family, relationships, pets, self-esteem, words, cutlery, discernment, sharpness, innocence, religion, sanity, afterlife, hope, destiny, past, future, network connectivity, or any other tangible or intangible goods.Furthermore, you acknowledge that the risk of loss of any and all of these goods is intrinsic to Sburb, and cannot be prevented or mitigated.

Eventually, I got so tired of waiting for things to break that I broke them myself. This was going fantastically, up until someone decided that I needed to be saved.