Vanatas is a collaborative worldbuilding project set on the eponymous fictional planet. Participants create a nation or nations to fill up the map, and then create said nationâs history, culture, geography, and more. Most of our work so far has been on our wiki, https://vanatas.miraheze.org/wiki/Main_Page, as well as our Current Events thread on RP Nation, https://www.rpnation.com/threads/vanatas-project-current-events-thread.507775/. This blog is for things that we want to publish in a more official capacity, but which doesnât fit either the wiki or news article formats. Tags will indicate whether a post is in character (IC), or out of character (OOC), as well as what nations, if any, it pertains to. Hopefully this can serve as a less strictly formatted outlet for worldbuilding than the other two mainstays. If youâre interested in joining the project, whether by making a nation or just an advisor, join our newcomers server (https://discord.gg/MngXWz7CMa) for more information. Enjoy your stay!
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Warbeats Studio (Aromese: Ăymidjâ ni Zni) is a prominent video game developer based in Slodos Seymi, Vircazihm. Founded by DzhĂčv Vzapt, the studio is renowned for its medieval combat simulator game, Total Brutality. Here is our interview with Vzapt.
Question 1: How did you get interested in game development?
Ah, you know, it's kinda funny. Ever since I was a kid, I was always fascinated by games. Growing up in Slodos Seymi, we didn't have a ton of high-tech stuff, but I remember getting my hands on an old computer. Started off just playing around with coding, making small text-based games. It was like a new world opened up, y'know? I realized I could create these amazing worlds and stories. That's what got me hooked. It wasn't just about playing games; it was about creating them, bringing these ideas in my head to life.
Question 2: Tell us about your first game, Echoes of Arom. It's pretty obscure. What gave you the idea?
Oh, "Echoes of Arom," that's taking me way back! That game was a passion project, really. I've always been intrigued by the rich history of ancient Arom, you know, the kind of stuff that's not in mainstream history books. There's so much mystery in those old stories and ruins. I wanted to create a game that wasn't just about action, but about exploration, solving puzzles, really getting into the spirit of being an archaeologist or a historian. The idea was to let players uncover the secrets of Arom at their own pace, sort of like unwrapping a mystery wrapped in an enigma, you know?
Question 3: That's great, but we know your real passion is strategy. Why the name Warbeats? It suggests war as a kind of dance.
Yeah, you're right, strategy games have always been my jam. The name 'Warbeats,' it's a bit poetic, I guess. I always saw strategy in war kinda like a dance â a rhythm, a beat to it. It's not just about brute force, right? It's about thinking, planning, being two steps ahead. The 'beat' part, it's like the heartbeat of the game, the rhythm you get into when you're deep in a strategy, making those critical decisions. So, yeah, it's war, but it's also about the rhythm, the art of it, not just the conflict.
Question 4: Now for the biggie. Before Total Brutality, the RTS genre was focused on science fiction and medieval fantasy, and fantasy as we know it is completely Alutran. You broke with with this and went with a strictly historical setting solidly based in Skephon with no Alutran factions anywhere in the game. Tell us why.
Ah, that was a big decision for us. You see, the RTS genre was kinda saturated with those themes, and honestly, I felt like it was a bit overdone. I wanted to bring something new to the table. Skephon's history is rich, diverse, and, frankly, underrepresented in gaming. I thought, why not showcase this incredible, vibrant culture and history? There's so much to explore there that's just as intriguing as any fantasy setting. It was about stepping away from the conventional and shining a light on a part of our world's history that's often overlooked. Plus, it was a chance to challenge ourselves creatively, to build something grounded in reality but still immensely engaging.
Final question: You've been criticized for not taking input from the game's fanbase. Much of the frustration seems to be from fans who wanted an Alutran expansion. What do you want to say to them?
You know, I totally get where the fans are coming from. We value their passion and their input means a lot to us. As for the Alutran expansion, we heard those requests loud and clear. But our vision for the game was always about highlighting the less explored regions like Skephon and surrounds. We wanted to stay true to that vision and bring something different to the table. That said, we're always looking for ways to innovate and please our fanbase, so never say never. We've got some exciting stuff in the pipeline, and we're always listening to what the players have to say.
Like several other mythical beasts, the exact origins of the amphiptere are difficult to pin down. According to Edward Topsell in the early 17th century, it is a snake about the size of a python, with leathery, bat-like wings. In Essex, England, it was supposedly seen in the same century, when a witness claimed the beast to be about 3 meter long (though obviously he didnât use the metric system) and having roughly the diameter of a human leg. The artist of this image took some creative liberties with the size.
Its defining trait is that it has no legs and two tongues, one of which is a regular tongue while the other is shaped like an arrow. The amphiptere is supposedly a subspecies of the amphisbaena. It prefers to flee when it spots humans, but can nonetheless deliver a dangerous venomous bite if threatened.
(image source 1: Becker&Mayer)
(image source 2: âDraken: een geĂŻllustreerde geschiedenisâ by K. Shuker. Illustration by Edward Topsell, 1608)
I hope this letter finds you and the orchard well. As I sit here in my tent, pen in hand, I cannot help but think of the trees that surround our home, and how I long to be there, to smell the sweet scent of the blossoms, to taste the apples.
But alas, I am far from home, and tomorrow I will march into battle. The Invasion of Gladomyr has been a long and grueling campaign, and we have seen many of our brothers fall. Yet still we march on, driven by duty and honor, and the hope of victory.
Tonight, as I write this letter, I do not know what fate awaits me on the battlefield. But I do want you to know that I will fight with all my heart and soul, for Salia, for our people, and for our way of life.
I cannot help but think of our orchard, and the trees that have stood strong for generations. Like those trees, I will stand tall and proud, facing whatever may come, knowing that I am fighting for something greater than myself.
Please do not worry about me, dear Mother. I am strong, and I am brave, and I will do my duty to the end. If fate should take me from this world, know that I will rest well, knowing that I fought for what I believed in.
I love you, Mother, and I will always be with you in spirit.
my girlhood was unscarred by bullets,
tormented by chores and schoolwork
under the hot sun
and boys,
not soldiers.
i remember the beautiful sand dunes
where i would play,
when the light colored the sand white
and violet in nighttime
before being stained red with blood.
i remember when they built new buildings
and trains ran ten minutes late,
when alarms signaled the end of school
and the beginning of life,
not bombing raids
and the end of it.
now those buildings are rubble
and the train comes once a week,
taking me to hundreds of boats
anchored in port,
telling me my country has died.
i could not believe it
and stayed by the ocean for years,
waiting for god to kiss my country
and bring it back to life,
but no use.
i left my girlhood behind
and stepped on a boat,
taking me to a new country
where i fell asleep to the sound of rain
and cars,
not distant artillery.
where there were roads of stone,
not dirt
and walls of glass,
not stone
and green grass
and trees as far as the eye can see.
oh, i wondered to myself
what a lucky place,
where i died in the cold,
not warmth,
surrounded by green,
not white,
to the sound of rain
and cars,
not explosions.
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I hope this letter finds you and the orchard well. As I sit here in my tent, pen in hand, I cannot help but think of the trees that surround our home, and how I long to be there, to smell the sweet scent of the blossoms, to taste the apples.
But alas, I am far from home, and tomorrow I will march into battle. The Invasion of Gladomyr has been a long and grueling campaign, and we have seen many of our brothers fall. Yet still we march on, driven by duty and honor, and the hope of victory.
Tonight, as I write this letter, I do not know what fate awaits me on the battlefield. But I do want you to know that I will fight with all my heart and soul, for Salia, for our people, and for our way of life.
I cannot help but think of our orchard, and the trees that have stood strong for generations. Like those trees, I will stand tall and proud, facing whatever may come, knowing that I am fighting for something greater than myself.
Please do not worry about me, dear Mother. I am strong, and I am brave, and I will do my duty to the end. If fate should take me from this world, know that I will rest well, knowing that I fought for what I believed in.
I love you, Mother, and I will always be with you in spirit.
Interview with Giy JĂŁáčus, Ulete cultural ambassador
Interviewer: So tell me about your childhood.
Giy JĂŁáčus: I was born and raised in the highlands of Upper Vircazihm, among the Ulete people. Growing up, life was simple but fulfilling. My parents were farmers, and I helped them tend to our crops and livestock from a young age. I have fond memories of waking up early to watch the sunrise over the hills and of playing with my friends in the open fields.
Our community was tight-knit, and everyone knew each other. We would gather for feasts and celebrations, and I remember the joyous atmosphere of those occasions. However, there were also times of hardship. The weather could be unpredictable, and there were occasional droughts and floods that would affect our crops. I learned the value of hard work and perseverance from watching my parents and other members of the community overcome these challenges.
Education was also an important part of my childhood. My parents made sure that I attended school regularly, even though it meant walking several kilometers to get there. I enjoyed learning, especially about our history and traditions. I also developed a love for reading, and I would spend hours poring over books whenever I had the chance.
As I grew older, I began to feel restless. I wanted to experience more of the world beyond our small community. So, in my early adulthood, I made the difficult decision to leave my family and move to the capital city of Slodos Seymi. It was a daunting prospect, but I felt ready for the challenge.
Looking back on my childhood, I feel grateful for the simple but fulfilling life I had. The lessons I learned and the memories I made will stay with me forever, no matter where life takes me.
Interviewer: So I understand you moved to Slodos Seymi when you were 17. What did you think about being in such a big city for the first time?
Giy JĂŁáčus: Yes, that's right. Moving to Slodos Seymi was a big change for me. Growing up in the highlands of Upper Vircazihm, I was used to a quieter, more traditional way of life. The move to the big city was overwhelming at first. The noise, the crowds, the traffic - it was all so different from what I was used to. But at the same time, there was a sense of excitement and possibility. Slodos Seymi was a place where anything could happen, where you could make your dreams come true if you worked hard enough. And I was determined to do just that. It wasn't easy, but over time, I grew to love the city and all its quirks and challenges. Slodos Seymi became my home, and I can't imagine living anywhere else now.
Interviewer: So, here is the more sensitive question, what was it like for you being in an Aromo majority city for the first time in your life?
Giy JĂŁáčus: It was definitely a culture shock for me, as I had grown up in an area where the majority of the population was Ulete. However, I was fortunate enough to have some exposure to Aromo culture through my studies and interactions with classmates and neighbors back in Upper Vircazihm. So, while there were some differences in customs and ways of thinking, I didn't find it too difficult to adapt. In fact, I found it really interesting to learn about the different traditions and practices of the Aromo people. And I think that being exposed to a variety of cultures is a valuable experience that has enriched my life in many ways. Of course, there were some challenges and misunderstandings along the way, but overall, I think that my time in Slodos Seymi has been a positive experience for me.
Interviewer: Tell me, what are some things about Aromo culture that surprised you the most?
Giy JĂŁáčus: Oh, there were definitely a few things that caught me off guard. For one, the Aromo people are known for being really outgoing and expressive, which is very different from the reserved and traditional Ulete culture I grew up with. I remember going to a party with some Aromo friends and being amazed at how loud and energetic everyone was. But after a while, I found myself joining in and having a great time. Another thing that surprised me was the importance of coffee in Aromo culture. I had always liked coffee, but I never knew how much it could be a part of daily life and social interactions. And of course, the superstitions and beliefs in the supernatural were fascinating to me as well. I remember hearing stories about the "winged snake" of Vircazihm, which some people believe to be real, and being both intrigued and skeptical at the same time. Overall, I think that the Aromo culture has a lot of vibrant and colorful aspects that I never would have experienced if I had stayed in the highlands.
Interviewer: I understand you tried stand up comedy but bombed horribly. Tell me what happened.
Giy: (laughs) Yes, that was quite an experience. I thought I was pretty funny with my Ulete sense of humor, but I quickly learned that comedy is not universal. I decided to try an open mic night at a local comedy club, and let's just say it did not go as planned.
I started off with a joke about my cultural background, but the audience just looked confused. Then I tried to make fun of some cultural differences between the Aromo and Ulete, but it fell flat. I think I was just too nervous and my delivery was off.
But I learned a valuable lesson: comedy is all about knowing your audience. Just because something is funny to me and my Ulete friends doesn't mean it will be funny to a mixed audience. Maybe one day I'll give it another shot, but for now, I think I'll stick to my day job.
Interviewer: Do you remember any of the jokes you told?
Giy: Sure. It's still a bit traumatizing for me. I can still see the blank looks on the faces of the audience staring at me, but here is one:
"It's like the Aromo are the life of the party, while the Ulete are the ones who say, 'I'll just have one drink' and end up leaving early to go home and read a book. But hey, at least they'll have some great stories to share at the next family gathering!"
And here is another one, I remember:
"So, if an Aromo person spills their grandfather's ashes, they panic and immediately run to an exorcist to get rid of their angry ancestor's ghost. But if a Ulete person spills their grandfather's ashes, they'll just calmly clean it up and continue with their day. I guess it's all about how you handle life's little spills!"
Interviewer: Oh, I completely see now why you failed at stand-up. When did people start calling you a cultural ambassador?
Giy: Oh, that's a funny story. It started about a year after I moved to Slodos Seymi. I was attending a cultural festival and noticed that the Ulete representation was lacking. I decided to take matters into my own hands and put together a Ulete cultural performance. I gathered some of my friends from Upper Vircazihm and we put on a show with traditional Ulete music, dance, and storytelling. It was well received by the audience, and many people came up to me afterward, thanking me for sharing the Ulete culture. From then on, people started referring to me as the Ulete cultural ambassador, and I even got a few requests to organize more Ulete cultural events.
I mean, I tried my hand at being a cultural critic, but everyone told me I was too nice for that.
When Two are One: On the Cultuurgroepen of Eduran Society
By Prof. Leiden Tildman
Translated into Interspeak by Dr. Maria Shotosotobosko
It has been said by many that Edury is a nation of opposites. Ecoralian/Eduran language but Sedic law, urban life but agrarian dreams, surrounded by monarchy (well, mostly,) but staunchly republican, living for pomp but austere in dress. This is perhaps best shown in their cultuurgroepen, or culture-groups. Namely, the working-class, urban, and older Tuinmannen, or gardeners, and the middle-class, suburban, and slightly younger bestuurderen, or drivers.
What they arenât
Now, it should be noted that these two are not distinct groups, but subcultures of the larger native Eduran zeitgeist. They both eat the same food, they both celebrate the same holidays, etc. Two Edurans, one tuinmann and one bestuurer, from the same town of the same social standing (weâll get to that,) will speak with the same accent.
As one last point of contention to drive home the fact that these two groups are part of the same whole, we must bring up the topic of social class. It is true that once, a tuinmann would (almost) always be an urban, unionized, labor-voting worker, and a bestuurer would have been a suburban middle class clerc, that just isnât the truth anymore.
Today in Edury, it is possible to find bestuurer factory workers and miners, tuinmann bank managers, and every which one in each area and field. These are purely cultural groups, rather than the socio-economic ones they used to be; since the great kerfuffle of â72, they have been mixed. Weâll get to that in a bit.
History & Context
As with so many things in Eduran history, we must go back to the Revolution of 1801 to find the basis of both these groups.
After the death of Marshal Jager and the cementation of the political system of Edury, many people didnât really know what to make of themselves in a socio-psychological sense. Before the Revolution, there had been strict caste denominations, with sumptuary laws and other regulations clearly defining who was where. Bonded peasants at the bottom, and the hereditary mercantile nobility at the top- mind, these laws were certainly less appreciated by those at the base than those at the pinnacle. However, come the new peace, people were adrift in terms of class definitions.
Many of the previous castes had been ripped asunder after the civil war and revolution. Many of the guild-member craftsman class were newly wealthy, taking a place as factory owners or bankers, but many of this same caste were forced into utter destitution. What's more, there was very little to legally define these new stratified peoples. Technically, everyone belonged to the same, one, new caste; citizen. However, as the second of the three revolutions- the industrial- marched on, it became clearer and clearer that this was just a pretty thought in the minds of the bourgeoisie.
The Electoral Commission broke people up into blocks for voting for their representatives, and determined who the new Lord-Magistrate would be. These blocks afforded the working poor very little representation, as this Commission weighted rural, agricultural districts nearly as strongly as urban, industrialized ones. As cities swelled in size, districts were slow to be updated with censuses and redistricting. And as time marched on to the late 1840âs and early 50âs, the ascendancy of Lord-Magistrate Johan Vorhees and his conservatives would only continue this trend. The anti-sumptuary laws of the revolutionaries were repealed, allowing the nouveau riche to wear splendid and fancy dress once more, flaunting their wealth; the poor were legally allowed to do the same thing, but no person who worked in the eastern mines or southern factories could ever afford the beautiful beaver hats or silk kerchiefs. Whatâs more, Vorhees and his cabinet would punish the working poor for their attempts to unionize and organize, until his grating personality, unpopular policy, and willingness to use violence to repress the workers movement would lead to his downfall.
In the late winter and spring of 1861, the new revolution swept the nation as a brushfire, not overthrowing the old system but appropriating it; the new unions would not only be workers associations for collective bargaining, but also social clubs, charities, political parties, and for a time, militias. The leader of this movement would turn out to be Barend de Boer, who is sometimes credited as the first tuinman. De Boer was born Martin Cain, in Lathadu. His family moved to Edury when he was a young man, and when he began his organizing career, he took the name âBarendâ, the Bear, as a nom de plume (and then nom de guerre.) As he gained more notoriety, he also adopted the name âde Boerâ, the farmer, as part of his idealization of the agrarian way of life. This will be visited again later.
Throughout the later half of the 1800âs, the tuinmannen, and their political party, the National Workers Association, would be politically and culturally ascendent. They gained their name, partly because of their idealization of the agrarian way of life, and partly for their habit of having small urban gardens in their backyards, windows, and rooftops. Until the first world war, they were the primary subculture of Eduran society; either you were a tuinman, or you werenât. Ironically, many leaders of the NAV (Nationale Arbeidersverengening, or National Workers Assoc.,) werenât Tuinmannen. Towards the turn of the century, many of the party leaders had been much wealthier than their partisan counterparts, which weâll get to later. This was tolerated, however, because of the nature of the NAV (and later, its main opposition, the Liberal Union;) the local chapters and branches of the parties diverged in many ways, and so the party leadership was- and still is- beholden to the rank-and-file of the party membership.
This would continue until after the first world war. At this point, tram lines, interurbans, and subway metros had allowed for suburbs to be set up and flourish; in fact, these suburbs were endorsed and planned by tuinman and NAV leaders, who saw these suburbs as a way for the workers to get to live out their agrarian fantasy, away from the city, and with the ability to retain their employment. However, as these progressed, there soon came to be a moment of national reckoning for these suburbs; many of the ones based upon streetcar lines or urban metros had grown so much that they became part of the city they had split off from, and indeed many of our largest cities started annexing these suburbs as wards or districts. Further afield from these, a new type of suburb came about, based on one invention; the automobile.
Of course, this is part of each groupâs story. In actuality, while many of these streetcar suburbs were amalgamated, many of them are independent politically and culturally today, and these âauto-suburbsâ arenât actually much different from their older cousins. In fact, the automobile was much, much older than even some of these streetcar suburbs. That was part of the problem.
Largely, before WWI, automobiles were eye-wateringly expensive, both to purchase, and to upkeep; they required an inordinate amount of fuel, as well as daily cleaning and maintenance that required their own mechanic. Cars were such a status symbol, that some people put off buying one until they could afford both a mechanic, and a separate driver, the eponymous Bestuurder. Of course, the people of the class that could do this were certainly not tuinmannen, and were in fact largely despised by the primary subculture. That is until fuel, maintenance, and cars themselves became affordable enough for common people to own.
After WWI, this began to happen; shopkeeps, clercs, bank managers began to buy cars, and as they got cheaper, even bank tellers began to buy these now plain and simple cars that were, unmistakably, still status symbols. These people were derided as chauffeurs, bestuurder, by the main Tuinman politicians. Soon, these people began to form social clubs in the guise and aesthetics of the salons and etc. of their former economic betters, but in function were no different from the associations of the workers and laborers. Eventually, in 1920, these would form the Liberale Unie, or Liberal Union, which derived much from their older NVA counterparts.
While you would get Bestuurder members of the NVA and vice-versa for quite some time, these two groups would remain distinct until â72, when the great coal collapse rendered the NVA asunder. For decades, there had been a growing rift between two factions within the NVA; the dominant one, the ertes, enacted policies of top-down regulations and state-owned enterprise, whereas the other faction, called simply the anderen (others,) wanted regulations decided by groups of industries, and worker-owned collectives which would compete rather than single state owned industrial blocs. When March 12th, 1972 happened, and the final three anthracite mines in Edury closed, there was foaming discontent in the NVA, which to this point had been a dominant party, and had only lost the Magisterial chair once since the revolution.
Due to both human and institutional error, a cabal of moderates had held a choke-hold on the party leadership of the NVA. It is regarded by many economic historians that this cabalâs handling of the anthracite industry led to its collapse; in trying to run it both in a centralized, top-down and decentralized, competitive way, they ended up killing it and setting off the economic domino effect that would last years. The Lord-Magistrate and executive chairman of the NVA, Beucephalous Paardman, had an uproar on his hands, and he handled it poorly. Scores of anderen chapters of the NVA would declare their succession from the main body, some forming their own associations. Many, however, elected to join the Liberal Union, in what seemed to the Bestuurer leadership to be a splendid idea in taking members from their great enemy.
For various reasons, this backfired; as the former NVA partygoers were largely unionized laborers, and the splinter parties of the NVA collapsed and melted into the LU, all of a sudden there were as many Tuinmannen as there were Bestuurderen. The ideals of the splinter-chapters and the liberals merged; while the LU to this day still desires for less government regulation and more competitiveness in Eduran economics, they argue for worker-owned collectives, industry unions to set regulations, and other such policies. Today, you are as likely to find a Bestuurer in the NVA as the other way around.
The Similarities
In order to talk about what separates the two cultuurgroepen, we must first establish what unites them. In addition to both being aspects of the wider Eduran psyche, they are also both capital P capital R Post Revolutionaries, in the sense that their machinations are in response to all three great Eduran revolutions; 1801, 1861, and Industrial.
Relating to the first two revolutions, both groups have an almost pathological desire to look humble in dress and manner. The Tuinmannen define themselves by their proletariat beginnings. The Bestuurder define themselves by the fact that they are common folk, not the pre-revolutionary aristocracy that the Tuinmannen accused them of being. However, both of these also inherited the large importance of ceremony and pomp in Eduran culture, which is far older than either group, going back (as some archeologists say) to pre-Ayekist times. As such, both groups put an emphasis on non-ostentatious, but still formal clothing, as well as other aspects of Eduran life. However, interestingly, there is another love that both groups have which they imported; an idealization of rural, agrarian life.
The Tuinmannen get this largely from their founder, Barend de Boer. A Lathadun immigrant himself, he kept close contact with his homeland, writing letters and perhaps even meeting such figures as Pol Cambuc and Carmac Kneale. As de Boer was leading a movement of urban laborers, however, this love of all things rural was really a romantic light to shine upon city life. The eponymous gardens were a method for de Boer to get his followers (both tacit and fanatical) to become more food independent, as well as to go back to an idealized simpler time. His final appeal to idealized romantic rural life was the notion that each worker should have the ability to retire, and move onto their own little farm to sustain themselves in the twilight of their life, and so that their children might be able to grow up in a pastoral paradise before moving to the city to make something for themselves. As the decades marched on, the suburbs that sprouted out along tramlines became a way for workers to live a little bit of this rural fantasy before they could actually settle down on their own acre and a half of land.
The Bestuurder, having formed much later, had a similar but slightly different idealization. For them, the focus was not on the individual farmer living on their own little acre and a half, but on the rural village life. Many suburbs set up in the 1920âs-30âs would bill themselves as villages (despite being within a 20 minute train ride or drive of a large city,) and advertised themselves as a way for middle class families to own their own little hill cottages, and still work in the metropolises.
The Differences
Now that we know how the two groups are part of the same culture, we can talk about what truly makes them different. In a word: minutiae. In a sentence: not a whole lot, but details of daily rituals and idealizations that mean a great deal to the people who live within these two groups.
In regards to their love of rural life despite living in a quite urban country, the Tuinmannen have this idea that a perfect acre-and-a-half of land is how a person should end their life- although in the modern day, this ideal retirement is more of a rural vacation home, rather than a permanent dwelling. The Bestuurderen, however, treat their ideation as a way of life; itâs an ideal to have your own little slice of the countryside in the form of a single home somewhere, which can be your own little cottage. This subtle difference can be traced back to how the two groups were founded; the Tuinmannen were first an organizational and political group, which over time became a cultural one, whereas the Bestuurderen at first were social in nature, and only came to politics after they had developed their own distinct cultural identity.
This develops further. While both groups are in love with the supposed rural past, the Tuinmannen are unmistakably an urban, industrial culture. Most people who self-identify as Tuinmannen live in cities with population densities above 2,000 people per square kilometer. Most people, in fact, live in such dwellings; 80% of the population lives on 50% of the land in Edury. The Tuinmannen typically live in urbanized areas where rowhouses, townhouses, and apartments are the norm, and where you are more likely to walk or bike to work or the shops. As such, most of their daily rituals which have major import in Eduran culture are based around this urban, industrial lifestyle. The most popular example is how for the Tuinmannen, lunch is the most important meal of the day, with most Tuinman places of employment offering up to 2 and a half hours off for lunch breaks to go home and eat (60 minutes is the usual legal minimum in Edury.) They are also of the persuasion that simple button-up shirts, no ties, and cloth flat caps are appropriate attire for work and professional life, stemming from the days where most Tuinmannen worked in hot, dangerous workshops and factories, where wearing a tie could get you decapitated and a suit jacket would cause you to get heatstroke.
With all that in mind, you may think that the Bestuurderen are the rural counterpart. Not so; theyâre more suburban, as a generalization. What ties they have to the Eduran agrarian past are things that their ancestors did not need to give up when they started industrial work. For example, breakfast and dinner are more important for Bestuurder families, as largely, these middle-class descended worked shorter hours. Today, most Bestuurder workplaces average around 1 hour and 15 minutes of lunch break, although this varies as these establishments tend to offer multiple shorter breaks, with one longer one in the middle of the day to eat in the break room. In most other cases, Bestuurder rituals are modeled after the âprofessionalâ middle class; workplace attire is at least a waistcoat (yes, even at the time of writing,) and formalwear must at least include a jacket and tie. Bestuurder also typically lead urban or suburban lives, but tend to prefer municipalities where detached housing is the norm, and are more likely to take a metro or bus to work than walk or bike. Of course, all of these are generalizations for both groups.
At the end of the day, the Eduran preoccupation with ritual- both public and private- is a topic for another essay, involving the rise and fall of the Ayekist churches, as well as, of course, the Revolution. Which is in itself a topic of another one. To close this essay out, we call attention once more to the fact that the primary differentiators between these two groups are which Eduran rituals they place the most importance on, and what they are descended from. These is, of course, one more great unifier of both groups:
They are both equally insufferable tourists in Lathadu.
Don was never a particularly popular boy. In his mind, it seemed to stretch all the way back to his birth, when he wasnât popular enough with his parents for them to bother raising him. The other boys at the Ă Cloigeann Salian Boarding School for Huenarnoan Boys didnât seem to like him much either. They bested him at ergyd, not that he much cared for the sport. Most subjects bored him as well, with one exception. When he was younger, he was very good at remembering Salian history and politics; he could speak for hours on end about how Ăadal mac Cloige united distant Salia, or how Arth map Duny conquered even more distant Lathadu. Then, for no obvious reason, he lost heart in his old passion. The one thing he cared about, gone.
This seeming lack of talent turned away every prospective adopter. They usually chose the academiacs, the ergyd captains, the ones who had a chance of becoming someone in the outside world. 19 years old, with not one person taking notice of him, he spent his time doodling whatever passed his mind. Sometimes they would be of what he learned back when he listened to classes, other times creatures or people he created in his own mind. And he did so whenever he pleased; he would draw a loroon-hawk hybrid while the teacher taught Salian linguistics; he would sketch the chimeric god Cuiv, with his vulpine head, corvid body, and serpentine tail, while the rest of the boys prayed at his shrine; and he would draw MĂșinteoir uasal ChroĂ with a less concealing garment while she lectured about biology.
So it should come as little surprise that when Mainri Higari, Emperor of Huenarno, the most powerful native in the Salian Colonial Government, came to visit the Boarding School, Don showed little interest. Indeed, he was in the process of doodling Higari trampled by livestock when the man entered the room. While everyone else stood to show their respect to the emperor, he was finishing off the last details of the ground sloth defecating on the manâs mangled skull. His seeming disregard for Higari was not lost on anyone in the room. Students held their breath. MĂșinteoir Fforth was furious when the boy refused to show his respect to His Greatness, threatening to drag him out by his hair. But before the teacher could make true of his promise, the Emperor held up his hand, and the room went silent.
Higari, with clothing that is the closest approximation of casual one can get from an emperor in public, strode up to the rebellious teen. He casually stole a chair from a nearby standing student who could do nothing to stop him and sat next to Don. Don, for his part, continued doodling with distant interest in the man beside him.
âHello,â greeted Higari, âmay I see what you have drawn?â
This got the attention of the boy. Not many had asked to see his drawings, and even fewer had been indulged. But in an effort to get a rise out of the person who dared bother him, Don passed the notebook to Higari.
He stared at the page for a beat. Everyone in the room held their breath.
And he laughed. He laughed and laughed and laughed like it was the funniest thing the man had seen in his whole life.
No one quite knew how to react. Students who were still standing eyed each other or looked to MĂșinteoir Fforth for guidance. The teacher, for his part, was simply dumbfounded, his mind struggling to comprehend what just occurred. Perhaps the most important reaction would be from Don. And he was very, very confused. He wasnât quite sure what to make of the Child of the Dragonflyâs show.
Finally, Higari calmed down enough to actually speak coherently. He wiped a tear from his eye, and sighed.
âI must say, young man, you have quite the artistic talent. May I attach a name to your work?â
â . . . Don mac Duine,â the boy responded.
âWel-â
âY-Your Magnificence - sorry for interrupting you, I didnât mean to disrespect you, I just realized that I hadnât addressed you prop-â
âDon,â Mainri said softly but firmly, which stopped his rambling. âIf anything would offend me here, it would be your imagining of a ground sloth shitting on my broken skull.â
A few of the other boys, who were still standing, snickered at this. Fforth shushed them, still not sure how to handle his most loathed student being noticed by the Emperor himself.
âAh, but here it is too public for conversation,â Higari decided. âMĂșinteoir?â The teacher snapped to attention. âIâm sure you wouldnât mind if I took Don off your hands for a moment, hm?â
âOf course not, Your Magnificence, Child of the-â
The emperor was already walking past him, the young man in tow. The teacher and the student exchanged a look, one of severe uncertainty, before the younger of the two followed the greater of the three.
In the relative solitude of the library, the emperor and the child talked. The former asked questions of the latter, about himself. He told the well-dressed man about his times at Ă Cloigeannâs, his likes and dislikes, his favorite teachers and subjects, his friends, lack thereof. Eventually, the conversation shifted to his future.
âEh, donât really have much of a future, I think. In all honesty, youâre the only person whoâs shown any interest in me, beyond a sense of pity for the strange boy.â
âNo prospective families?â Higari asked with a sympathetic face, one that actually seemed genuine to Don. When he shook his head, Higari smiled and replied âI feel the same in a way.â
When Don looked confused, Higari shrugged. âBetween you and me, Iâve never really been interested in pairing with another in marriage. Not out of principle, mind you, I simply never felt that way about anyone else. Of course, as - ugh - âChild of the Dragonflyâ, Iâm expected to produce an heir for the stability of the empire and our . . . magnanimous overlordsâ government.â He made a face Don couldnât quite parce. âIn my mind, though, family need not be related. Bonds of mind can be millions of times more sturdy than ones of blood, for while the latter is static and given, the former is dynamic and earned.
âAh, but you have been given more than enough lectures, no?â Higari got up and stretched, limited by his tight, formal attire - which, Don noted, looked rather old and faded. âI have business to attend to - boring stuff, negotiations with the governor - but it was nice to speak to you. Iâm sure I can find time in my schedule, and in yours, to meet you again.â
Before Don could take in anything he just said, Higari turned around and walked out the room, leaving Don alone in the dusty, dark library, left to try to make sense of the most powerful man in the city talking to the least.
I am a food vlogger and I have a confession to make. After my first week in Slodos Seymi, Vircazihm, I was so disgusted and disappointed in myself I was ready to quit vlogging forever. I flew thousands of miles from Alutra to film myself enjoying Slodos Seymi street food. I never questioned that I, bro of the world, would do anything but love Skephonian street food. But how wrong was I?
Slodos Seymi was weirdly quiet for a big city the morning I arrived. Things picked up by 10:00 with serious looking people hurrying along and market stalls opening, but the real life didnât start until after 18:00 when things got lively. There was music blaring from every corner. There was so much talking and laughing, it was like a wall of sound. I even happened upon Vircazihmese dance-fighting right there in the street. I was ecstatic when they invited me to join. Too bad I couldnât manage to film myself doing it, I got loads of laughter from my attempt.
But, then there was the food. First thing I noticed was stall after stall of offal. The other main staple is some sort of gelatinous gruel made from lentils, rice, and barley. If your lucky they might mix some offal in with it. And, it is all flavored with ginger. Tons of ginger in everything. Did I mention, I hate ginger? The only thing without ginger was the Hutani horse sausage which is the blandest sausage Iâve ever had. I passed on the local favorite, sheepâs head soup with a whole sheepâs head floating in it. Then there was the cheese. How can you ruin cheese, bro? Vircazihmese cheese amounts to pungent, rancid, white lumps that are as appetizing as a dish sponge. This was some career ending shit for me, my bros.
Then I found my salvation, Nilo Piáže, literally Pork Palace. Nilo Piáže is the closest thing Vircazihm has to a fast food chain. This chain is the fast food version of highland Ulete cuisine. The menu is 80% pork, 10% lamb, and 10% chicken. You can get BBQ pork, roast pork, cured pork, pork sausage, and breaded, deep fried pork. With every meal you get a side of rice pilaf drenched in pork stock, and pork cracklins. And to drink? Three kinds of berry soda, or alcoholic ginger beer. This is mouth watering shit, my bros, and I can say it literally saved my life. The one thing is, I would recommend steering clear of their fried chicken. I mean fried chicken feet is one thing, but deep fried chicken heads. I think not.
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