hic iuro, sub stellis

In middle school biology, we did an experiment. We were given yams, which we would sprout in cups of water. We then had to make hypotheses about how the yams would grow, based on descriptions of yam plants in our books, and make notes of our observations as they grew.

Here’s what was supposed to happen: we were supposed to see that the actual growth of the plant did not resemble our hypotheses. We were then supposed to figure out that these were, in fact, sweet potatoes.

What actually happened was that every single student in every single class lied in their notes so that their observations perfectly matched their hypotheses. See, everyone assumed the mismatch meant they had done something wrong in the process of growing the plant or that they had misunderstood the dichotomous key or the plant identification terminology. And, thanks to the wonders of a public school education, everyone assumed the wrong results would get us a failing grade. We were trying to pass. We didn’t want to get bitched out by the teacher. Curiosity, learning, science - that had nothing to do with why we were sitting in that classroom. So we all lied.

The teacher was furious. She tried to fail every student, but the administration stepped in and told her she wasn’t allowed to because a 100% fail rate is recognized as a failure of the teacher, not the class. It wasn’t even her fault, really, though her being a notorious hard-ass didn’t help. It was a failure of the entire educational system.

Not in the sense that two days would be 60 hours, but more that the days overlap between midnight and 6 AM. So, for instance, it something happened 2 AM on Sunday, you could say “2 o’clock on Sunday”, but you could also say “26 o’clock on Saturday”.

Which MAKES SO MUCH SENSE. When you talk about things happening “last night”, it doesn’t suddenly stop being “last night” the instant the clock strikes midnight because I’m not Cinderella.

This is most common in TV schedules:

http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OtakuOClock

Anime aired from around 11 p.m. until the wee hours of the morning, occasionally indicated by the odd-looking “22:00-27:00” notation. […]

The trope name refers to the odd way of noting when the shows start airing; it’s common to see a show aired at 1:00 am listed at “25:00”. This is largely done to align the schedule with that of the previous day; many Japanese TV networks still sign off in the middle of the night, and those who don’t will only switch to “the next day”’s programming at 4 am or so.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Date_and_time_notation_in_Japan

Times past midnight can also be counted past the 24 hour mark, usually when the associated activity spans across midnight. For example, bars or clubs may advertise as being open until “26時” (i.e. 2 am). This is partly to avoid any ambiguity (2 am versus 2 pm), partly because the closing time is considered part of the previous business day, and perhaps also due to cultural perceptions that the hours of darkness are counted as part of the previous day, rather than dividing the night between one day and the next. Television stations will also frequently use this notation in their late-night scheduling. This form is rarely used in conversation.

cultural perceptions that the hours of darkness are counted as part of the previous day

Any commentary they make in response to you raising the issue of someone else's diagnoses should be something to the effect of "it's possible that they have x disorder, but it's more important to focus on how their behavior affects you / the relationship."

If your therapist says "you parents are narcissists" or "your ex is a sociopath," that either didn't happen, or they're creating an ethical violation.

They aren't allowed to diagnose someone who isn't their client, i.e. has consented to treatment.

Even if they were allowed to do that, your secondhand account of that person doesn't constitute an assessment.

Even if they were allowed to do that and could use your secondhand account, they wouldn't be able to tell you about someone else's diagnoses because of confidentiality.

Further, your therapist can't diagnose you with "narcissistic abuse syndrome" etc. because it doesn't exist. There are no legitimate diagnoses based on the (speculative!!!) diagnoses of an abuser; you're likely talking about complex PTSD, which commonly results from abuse (including emotional abuse).

I don't trust therapists who slap diagnoses on their clients' abusers. You shouldn't either. You should know the basics of clinical boundaries and the correct terms for things so that you don't feed into stigma or put up with a therapist who's willing to engage in unethical practice.

Dungeons & Dragons is owned by Hasbro. Yes, the same Hasbro that owns Monopoly and My Little Pony.

Hasbro wants D&D to be the only tabletop RPG that anyone plays.

In order to accomplish this, Hasbro needs D&D to be a universal entry-level game.

D&D is not a universal entry-level game.

All game rules are opinionated about how the game ought to be played, and as tabletop RPGs go, D&D's rules are more opinionated than most. This is not a flaw, but it's not what Hasbro needs.

D&D is also on the high end of complexity as far as tabletop RPGs go, and it's complex in a way that strongly rewards system mastery, so it's pretty far from "entry level".

Hasbro could produce a version of D&D that's at the very least less opinionated and more entry-level than it presently is, but they don't want to, because they've determined that certain rules features which run counter to both of those goals are critical to D&D's brand identity.

They also don't want to produce multiple versions of D&D tailored for different audiences, because they want every single D&D group to be a potential purchaser of every single D&D product; they'd be effectively competing with themselves for their own customer base if the published game was actually modular in any meaningful way.

So how does Hasbro square that circle?

Simple: they lie. They insist that D&D is in fact a universal entry-level game in spite of all evidence to the contrary, and back their advertising up with sponsored thinkpieces and podcasts and such to "prove" it.

Further, they've spent decades fostering a culture of play which conceals the gap between the game they're advertising and the game they're selling by ascribing any appearance that D&D isn't a universal entry-level game to the incompetence or malice of individual GMs.

The game the rules want to produce disagrees with the game the group wants to play? Nonsense – even the rankest beginner should be able to produce any experience of play using any set of rules, and if your GM can't, they're a Bad GM.

The game is hard to learn? No, it isn't – your GM is merely gatekeeping you. This wouldn't be a problem with a Good GM.

The upshot is that the published rules are more or less irrelevant with respect to achieving the desired experience of play, because they're operating within a culture of play which dumps 100% of the work of making that desired experience of play happen on the GM.

Indeed, much of what modern D&D presents as GMing best practices are really methods of working around the fact that the rules you're using disagree with you about what kind of game you're playing.

(It's not a coincidence that D&D's entrenched culture of play also insists that it's normal for GMs to be miserably overworked and treats GM burnout as a big funny joke, then turns around and loudly wonders why there's a constant GM shortage.)

The trick is, because you're still at least notionally using the rules of D&D, the fruits of all that GM labour are perceived as the product of "playing D&D", not of the GM's hard work.

In essence, Hasbro's business model for Dungeons & Dragons is selling you your own GM's labour with a D&D sticker on it.

It's a very neat trick, if you can pull it off.

Now, at this point some readers may be asking: well, sure, but not all GMs are doormats. What about "killer" GMs who do gatekeep and railroad their players and otherwise act like complete tyrants? I hear horror stories about them all the time.

As noted above, all game rules are opinionated about what kind of game they wanted to produce. This isn't just a matter of setting (though setting-neutral games are often misleadingly called "universal" games), but also a matter of the basic structure of the narrative which emerges when you follow the rules.

The rules of Dungeons & Dragons are not less opinionated than those of your average indie RPG, and in fact are more opinionated than most. (Again, having strongly opinionated rules is not something that's wrong with D&D; it's merely something that's inconvenient for Hasbro's marketing goals in a way they're unwilling to address.)

In brief, D&D really, really wants your game to be a sword and sorcery dungeon crawl. If the GM is using the framework of play furnished by the rules at all, or if the players are responding to the rules' player-facing incentives even a little bit, it's going to squish your game into something dungeon-crawl-shaped.

(This should not be surprising; it's literally in the name!)

The rules of D&D being opinionated in this way tends to fly under the radar for a couple of reasons, one less problematic and one more so.

The relatively benign reason is that many popular RPG premises are not done any great violence by being squished into the shape of a sword and sorcery dungeon crawl.

A cyberpunk smash and grab caper? Basically a dungeon crawl already.

A special forces op in a modern military game? That doesn't need to be shaped like a sword and sorcery dungeon crawl, but it can be shaped like one and remain intelligible as what it's supposed to be.

Gritty logistics-driven survival horror? Not inherently dungeon crawl shaped, but the two genres are compatible – a game can be both at the same time, as video games like Fear & Hunger and Look Outside demonstrate. (Indeed, Look Outside's apartment building follows the structure of an old school D&D megadungeon nearly beat for beat!)

Thanks to D&D's pervasive cultural influence informing what people expect a tabletop RPG to be, as long as this kind of compatibility is present, many folks won't even notice their intended premise is being squished into the shape of a sword and sorcery dungeon crawl.

If your chosen premise isn't compatible in this way, or if the group notices what's happening and decides to push back against it, though? That's where the sleight of hand I alluded to above starts to come into play.

Remember: a Good GM™, even a total novice, ought to be able to use any set of rules to produce any desired experience of play, right?

So get to work!

i.e., just as much of the game's putative approachability is the product of Hasbro selling the players their GM's labour in a D&D-shaped box, much of D&D's putative flexibility is the product of the GM being sold their own labour in a D&D-shaped box.

To be clear, this is not militating against homebrew content or rules. Homebrew is perfectly cromulent, and certainly, some games are more or less structurally amenable to it (though modern D&D tends to fall on the "less" side).

The problem is that what we've got on our hands is a culture of play that wants to have its cake and eat it too: when doing extensive homebrew is treated as part of the GM's basic, entry-level responsibilities, it's easy to fall into the trap of thinking of the product of that labour as merely being a feature of the game.

This is an industrial stand mixer (often it has a grating attachment to that round top port sticking out like a pipe end on the top left of the pic) and Hobart is a very popular brand for these machines, which are often nearly as tall as a person

the thing hanging from the mixing arm into the bowl part is a dough hook

it looks like this and spins around mixing the dough

Here is a smaller one, but you can see what it looks like when it goes

So one of my first kitchens, everyone who got shown how to use the enormous 5ft tall Hobart we had, they got some variation of this speech:

"DO NOT reach into the mixer while it's on. I know, you think that now, but you're going to get comfortable around it, it's going to seem like it's moving slow, and you're going to feel like reaching in there to check the dough or something without turning it off. DON'T. DO THAT. One guy a couple years ago went to the hospital with every bone in his arm broken and a dislocated shoulder and it was from reaching into this exact machine we're using today. You're going to feel like you can reach in real quick without stopping the machine, and I'm telling you, turn it off first."

I got that speech too, and sure enough, there came a day when I felt the urge. Which i resisted. But then. Then there started to be reasons to reach in there.

Like maybe the person using the grating attachment hadn't cleaned the port good enough and a couple of strips of grated carrot fell onto the dough, where it would stay sort of oscillating on the top of the dough ball for a little bit before getting sucked down to be kneaded deep into the dough. It's a single button to stop the machine, but, for some reason it just seems like such a hassle, and you've always wanted to do it, c'mon, look how slow it's moving...

So i did. And it was fine! Altho i could see why people get it wrong, what seemed like about a 3 second window actually turned out to be less than a full second once you got your hand down there, and there really wasn't as much space as it seemed like there was, and the angle you had to go at did slow you down just a little... But now that i knew all that, i should be fine to do it as long as i was careful, right?

Then one day it happened. I must of brushed ever so slightly against the metal of the dough hook. It is shaped and moving in a way designed to draw material in toward the center and down and it tugged my hand ever so slightly in and down.

Which would have been fine but I was already touching the dough, so it tugged my fingers into the dough just enough for it to get the slightest grip on them, which tugged my hand in just enough to get caught between the hook and the dough which gripped it surprisingly hard and yanked my hand down and in a circle like having someone hold your hand tightly and spin in a circle and all my joints locked up against each other painfully so fast!

Luckily I was able to get my arm out before I suffered more than a sore shoulder, hurt elbow, and sprained wrist and sprained finger... but things went from totally fine to sheer panic faster than anything i've ever experienced.

Even so, only a week later and barely recovered, I caught myself just before i reached my hand into the dough bowl while it was on, the siren call of the Hobart singing strongly still.

So many people felt it. I heard so many close call stories. Some models like the Hobart 660 comes with this wire cage safety guard now, and I guarentee it is 100% because no matter how you warn people, they can't resist reaching in while it's running

tags: #hobart is perfect size for arm of person perfect safe for to put arm in

_

PLEASE DO NOT THE MACHINE, IT WILL BITE

Also have a few guillotine cuts, can tell you that a paper cut from a 200g paper corner is way worse than a 70g one and that it does happen way more than you'd want or expect it to, and that you should never, ever, disable the safety stoppers.

And so much love to that poster, because it stuck with me, and really made me think about why I find Kel so compelling. And, in thinking about it, I've come to understand that the truth is that Kel doesn't get chosen. She chooses herself.

When Kel touches the door at the beginning of Squire, Neal tells her never to do it again, because the Chamber might kill her. And Kel proceeds to touch that fucking door every fucking year, to the point that the Chamber knows her, and remembers her, and is like, "Girl, you again??" And she's like, "Yep, it's me! Please torture me some more." She keeps coming back because she is afraid that she won't pass the Ordeal, and she keeps touching the door because when Kel can't do something, she works at it until she can. And so, she builds a relationship with the Chamber the way she does with everyone else in her story: by showing up, by being reliable, by having integrity, and by being the best version of herself she can be, every day.

I tend to believe that the purpose of the Ordeal is that the Chamber forces you to change--to realize something about yourself that needs to be faced so that you can become a better person--and that the Ordeal only ends once you've internalized that change. (This is why Joren dies).

Kel's Ordeal ends when she changes the way she thinks about the Chamber: "I thought you would be grand and terrible" she says "I thought you would make us grow up... This is just mean." She had put her faith in the Chamber to show her that she was worthy, but she was worthy from the start. This is what changes about her: she no longer seeks external validation from the Chamber; she no longer has anything to prove. She realizes was always worthy.

And the Chamber doesn't go on and on about how she's special, or the chosen one, or whatever. It just says: "You'll do."

When Blayce starts defying the laws of life and death, there is only one class of knights that the Chamber has access to, and Kel is the last candidate to enter the Chamber that year. She is the Chamber's last chance to enact any sort of will on the world outside its little room. And Kel walks in, and it knows her. She is the one who has been testing herself against it for years, and she comes back and gives it the metaphorical finger and tells it to fuck off. The entity in the Chamber is already searching for someone to do this important thing, but Kel doesn't need some elemental demi-god who exists outside of time to approve of her. She does that for herself. She chooses herself.

The Chamber didn't pick her in advance; it wasn't some mystical prophecy. It was holding a job interview, and Kel showed up and said, "It's me. I'll do it. (Also, go fuck yourself.)"

And the Chamber says: "Yeah, all right. (Thank fuck you showed up)."

What I love about Kel is that she embodies the kind of heroism that is possible for all of us. She is dedicated. She is kind. She is hard-working. She commits herself to the service of others. None of those things are superhuman. They are possible for each of us to achieve.

At the end of the day, being a hero isn't about being blessed or prophesized or having super-powers. It's about showing up every day and saying:

The second time I read it I paid more attention to those parts and realized that they were an essential part of the story. This key component of fascination with a human pastime is the axis that the themes revolve around.

https://wheelofnames.com/uh3-8jf

Also enjoyable:

The very British "bloody", as in "bloody hell", "bloody shit" but you can also put literally any word in there and make "bloody curtains!" or "bloody bleeping ogre farts!" or whatever

Various invocations of disease: "A pox on both your houses", "plague upon it!", "oh bloody diarrhoea", gamers sometimes call stuff "cancer", honestly if someone dropped something in my vicinity and immediately yelled "cholera!" I'd respect it

Various invocations of pests or unpleasant animals: "Rats!", "lousy", "you absolute donkey"

Various narrative insults, inspired by Gaelic cursing: "may your story have an unsatisfying ending and no sequels" goes kinda hard, as does "your author really only assigned you one character trait, huh?"

Various invocations of fire: "burn it!", "scorch it!", "oh light it up and throw the ashes in the sea", "what an absolute conflagration"

sometimes I address inanimate objects directly as though I am an evil emperor and they are peasants. "I am a human being! You are a computer! You are an inanimate object! I outrank you! Run the code I told you to run or I shall have you flogged"

an old expression for surprise is something like, "Well knock me down with a feather" or "Well blow me right over". You can exaggerate these for humorous effect as much as you like. "Well, break all my bones with a gust of wind and bury me anonymously, I didn't expect that to-"

the classic "Pants!"

if you are feeling particularly dramatic and wish to ham it up: "SORROW AND WOE! O GRIEF AND MISFORTUNE! O RUIN! O ENDLESS STRIFE AND TRAGEDY - "

you can capture a fascinating number of shades of meaning with different animals' shit. Dogshit, bullshit, horseshit and apeshit all have completely different meanings. You can just invent more of those. There's no reason you can't decide that raccoonshit or rhinoshit or eagleshit can't have whatever incredibly specific meaning you wish to give it

I used to think French and Spanish people said "murder!" - I now know that's not what merde / mierda actually translates to, but this did not stop me spending some years going "murder!" / "oh murder it" / "oh arson" / you get the idea

Bad Things Combined With Body Parts: "assface", "shithead", "fartbrained spineless shitface", etc

"No. Nope. Nopeity nope nah. Nopifying that immediately. Negative nopified nopeish nahhhh and, in addition, no"