[MU] - DECEMBER STORYTELLING / MEMORY SHARE

[lifeaftr_mods]

Something is wrong.

This may not very well be obvious, at first. The Storyteller is not present to put forth yet another diatribe, informative or apologetic, and the backdrop of guttering flame and sandy campfire is as present as ever...albeit briefly.



Those who tell their stories will start to notice something...odd taking place. Indeed, no matter how they intend to begin their tale, the land of Mu will immediately start to warp to accommodate it, or something utterly unlike it, until storytellers and listeners alike may find themselves in an exact recreation of a seemingly random memory, in the most stark and painstaking of detail. There is no altering the memory, nor is there any preventing it once it's begun to play - you will simply have to witness memories that are not your own this go around.

Furthermore, stories that take place in worlds other than LifeAftr will be, frankly, inevitable. Those memories, too, will be recreated, to be relived by the teller and lived by the listener.

---

It is time, once more, for you to tell a story...with a slight twist! This is, in fact, our first player plot, as provided by Dragon! The initial setting will be familiar for oldcomers, and newcomers will recognize it from the introduction they received in their dreams.

Yet for this Storytelling only, people can imagine whatever stories they wish, from both their homes and their time on LifeAftr, as long as they don't mind the fact that others will be reliving those stories in the form of an impromptu memory share.

Even those who prefer not to voice their stories aloud are not safe this time around. If the memory is recalled in essence, Mu will shift to accommodate it in full.

There is, however, a benefit to this: those who venture memories to be relived will receive both a befuddled apology from the Storyteller, who will assert that this was most definitely not meant to happen (they're the Storyteller, not the Rememberer!), as well as a tired promise that the relived memories will be worth two offerings each, as if in compensation.

Not that it counts for much, probably.

Comments

2: Weigh My Heart Against A Feather

[greatcleavage]

“Well, Mr. Greenhilt, I’ve heard all that I need to hear. I’m ready to render a decision.”

The Bureaucratic Deva smiled at her screen, apparently finding whatever she read pleasant. Roy wondered, briefly, how a computer could actually work on a celestial plane that was aspected to Good. He also wondered if he would actually remember what a computer even was when he was resurrected. That seemed like the sort of thing that would raise a lot of questions, and damned if the fourth wall wasn’t barely holding on by a thread at best these days.

“As a friend of mine might say, ‘dunh, dunh, DUNH!’” At least he still had a little snark left to him, even as he’d lost everything else but a mental conception of his spiritual form. “Except for the total lack of suspense due to it being a forgone conclusion.”

The deva looked back over to him. “Excuse me?

Was it a joke, or just a factor of being a celestial, and thus a being that exemplified Law? Even in its best form, that meant bureaucracy and occasional rigid thinking. “Look,” Roy said. “I know it’s your job to rake me over the coals—“

“No, you’re thinking devil, not deva.”

Considering she’d just interrogated him on several of his choices in life, choices he was not particularly proud of – abandoning a friend to an unknown fate, for example, or leading a psychopathic, hateful, murderous little halfling and making full use of his talents to the best of Roy’s own abilities to accomplish a goal – Roy was pretty sure he hadn’t misspoken in the slightest. But rather than fight that fight, Roy stuck to his original point, lifting both his hands to emphasize what he’d known from the beginning. “ —but we both know this is moot, because you can’t let me in due to my dear old dad’s Blood Oath.”

That damn Blood Oath of Vengeance. Eugene Greenhilt had sworn it against the murderer of his wizardly master, then abandoned it until he discovered that it would keep him out of the afterlife and pass down through his family lines, at which point he’d promptly asked Roy to tell his kid sister. Because Eugene Greenhilt was a horrible man who viewed anyone without arcane power as basically a nonentity.

So here was Roy, dead at age 29, because he’d decided to go kill a lich to rub his father’s face in his actual ability to accomplish anything with a sword instead of a spell. Great work, Roy Greenhilt. Definitely his best work.

“Mr. Greenhilt,,” the deva said with a frown, “we do things “by the book” around here—“ She pointed a little ways away, to where a giant tome floated in midair, aglow with brilliant radiance and surrounded by angels. “—and it just so happens that the book in question is 100 feet tall and alight with holy fire—“ She leaned in slightly so that he sat back in his seat, the better to not put himself too close to her glare, “and it says that I need to evaluate you regardless of any mitigating circumstances that may or may not be in effect.”

“OK, OK, knock yourself out,” Roy said quickly. ‘Good is not nice’ and all, but damn. “Geez.”

Apparently satisfied with his entirely sensible refusal to argue further, the deva settled back down, lapsing into the sort of pedagogical tones that seemed appropriate for a grand pronouncement on the fate of the soul, as delivered by a bureaucrat. “There are two sets of criteria I needed to consider before assigning you an afterlife. Are you Good, and are you Lawful? Luckily for you, your lack of piety isn’t an issue, only your alignment is brought into question.” Was that literally true in the absolute, Roy wondered? He wasn’t an atheist, after all, just nonpracticing and cynical in the extreme – but the deva didn’t give him time to consider the question further. “I don’t think there is any doubt that you’re a Good man… you regularly battle the forces of Evil without expecting compensation. And I see very few truly Evil acts… Nothing here even merits a blip on the Malev-o-meter.” She paused, her eyes flicking back to her computer screen and her projections there, before adding in a less pedantic voice, “Though sometimes you enjoy verbally lambasting your friends and friends and foes a little too much for our tastes. You might want to cut down on that if you do end up being raised.”

Maybe she had a point, but… “Yeah, but think of how many fewer punchlines I would get if I did.” Gods knew he was already perceived as the boring one. ‘Oh boohoo, Roy, you aren’t getting enough plot development! Your major character-driven quest that gives this whole story a reason to exist needs to go away so we can get back to the zany adventure of Elan being stupid and Belkar being evil!’

“Now as far as Law…” the deva said. “You’re a man who has sacrificed most of his adult life fixing the mistake his father made when he swore the Blood Oath of Vengeance against Xykon. By talking to you, I can see you’re someone for whom the idea of Responsibility is central. That certainly who be Lawful enough for us—“

After all those interrogations, this was like discovering the test you thought you’d bombed had gotten one of your highest grades. “Yes!”

But he hadn’t noticed the pause. The deva continued, running roughshod over his delight, “ —except that you often veer toward Chaos in the execution of your perceived responsibilities.”

“Crap.” Really, though, it had been his own fault for actually having hope.

“Tricking your friends into participating in a quest to fix your sword—much less conspiring to work behind the backs of an order of paladins—are not acts that scream ‘Lawful’.” Her finger quotes were, somehow, more damning than her words. “Using Chaotic means to fulfill Lawful obligations strikes me as fairly Neutral… I don’t think my superiors would blink if I kicked your case over to the Neutral Good afterlife, but there’s one factor preventing me… You’re trying.”

“You’re trying to be Lawful Good.

That… what? She’d just made it clear that regardless of his efforts to achieve Lawful ends, he’d been Chaotic in his execution. She gave him a moment to try to process that, but his confusion must have shown on his face.

“People forget how crucial it is to keep trying, even if they screw it up now and then. They figure that if they can’t manage it perfectly every waking second, then they should just pick some other alignment because it’ll be easier. But it’s the struggle that matters. It’s easy for a being of pure Law and Good to live up to these ideals, but you’re a mortal.
What matters is that when you blow it, you get back up on the horse and try again.
You…well, your record is full of grey spots, but you never stop working at improving it.
That’s what’s important. To us, anyway,” she added with a little smile, as if she was aware of his own thoughts on how much results counted.

She stood, extending a hand to him to seal the deal. “Welcome to the Celestial Realm, Roy.”

On reflex, Roy stood and shook her hand, even as his mind struggled to catch up with everything she’d just poured onto him. “Wait, what? What about the Blood Oath of Vengeance? I thought—“

“It’s not a problem for us. Go on up.”

“WHAT?!?

Eugene Greenhilt, had he been alive, might very well have just killed himself. How long he’d been listening, Roy didn’t know. Not long enough to hear all the embarrassing stuff, he hoped – but when he turned to see his father’s apoplectic rage, the tendons in his neck standing out, his teeth clenched and the muscles of his face so tight they looked like they were going to rip clean off his skull, he knew he’d have gladly sold every miserable secret of his life just for this sight. And perhaps a man who had just been told that trying to be Lawful Good was important and who had just been admitted to the afterlife that embodied those virtues shouldn’t openly smirk at his dad’s fury, but Roy sure wasn’t about to let that stop him. ”In lieu of Paradise, can I just get a picture of the exact look on his face?”

“Now, see,” the deva said with a frown, “that’s exactly the sort of comment we’d like you to cut back on!”

”Maybe a 50-foot marble statue…”

[prettypurpleparlor]

Oh, dear- I probably shouldn't be amused by seeing something with such major theological ramifications.

[Also, it's rude to laugh at other people's memories, anyway. Muffet insists on remaining polite.]

[...And maybe she'd rather focus on trying not to giggle than think too hard about how this meant Roy had died at least once. Tonight was shaping up to be depressing enough already.]

Even if it does raise a lot of questions about angels, given what I still swear by...

[greatcleavage]

[Roy can't help but frown, after reliving all that. Knowing what he knows now, he has to wonder if he'll still receive a welcome in the afterlife should he go back to it. He did just go to some effort to massive meddle in affairs of the divine, after all... But then again, principle is principle. Lawful Good planes had to respect that.]

Honestly, to me, it raises a lot of questions knowing that other people don't know what awaits them after death.

[Roy heaves a sigh, then glances up at Muffet. Speaking of memories he doesn't want to get into...] I talked to Celia about this, once. She's not mortal, she's from the Elemental Plane of Air. When people like her die, they just merge back into the elemental essence they were born from. It's a lot different for humans.

[prettypurpleparlor]

We know what happens to our bodies, certainly- but the knowledge of what happens to the soul is regrettably beyond us.

[Muffet seems to take it in stride, focused as ever on practical matters.]

Still, many people want to know the answer, and they've never stopped studying such things. Perhaps someday we'll be able to say with more certainty.

Is it a comfort to you, knowing?

[greatcleavage]

It is, I guess. If I die again tomorrow and can't get raised this time -- you know, not counting here -- [Roy waves an irritable hand at their dreamscape-ish surroundings] -- then I'll be rewarded for everything I did in life. On the other hand... everyone else knows that too. So people become just that much more willing to risk death, when the afterlife awaits. That's a disadvantage.

[prettypurpleparlor]

I'm sure it doesn't help the naturally reckless to know that death is curable, no- though I can regrettably tell you from experience that an unconfirmed afterlife doesn't prevent some impressively risky behavior all the same.

What prevents everyone from being raised, as you were?

[greatcleavage]

First, you need a cleric who has the power to cast the spell. That itself isn't common -- raise dead is a complicated spell that only works for two weeks or so after death. Longer than that, and you need a resurrection spell, which very, very few clerics can cast. If you don't have enough of the body, you need resurrection too. If you don't have any remains, no raising at all, period. Then there's the cost -- five or ten thousand gold pieces depending on the level of the spell. Long story short, that level of magic is only available to adventurers or the very wealthy and important.

And trust me, you don't want to rely on the spells. I learned that the hard way. I was in a party with a cleric who could raise me, and through bad luck and tragedy, it took six months for them to raise me.

[prettypurpleparlor]

My condolences on your... delay, since 'your loss' doesn't seem appropriate here.

[Or is possibly slightly too appropriate, since he literally got lost somewhere...]

Why the cost, exactly? I can understand the difficulty in finding and training spellcasters of sufficient power, but what makes it so expensive beyond that- or is it simply compensation for their time?

[Metaphysics might not be her field, but matters of money, Muffet gets.]

[greatcleavage]

Spells require components as part of their execution, including material components. Spells that require greater power or have significant effects beyond what would normally be within the bounds of magic take greater or more complicated components to enact.

[prettypurpleparlor]

That does make a certain kind of logical sense, at least. Is there any sort of link between what the spell does and the components required?

[greatcleavage]

Typically, yes. Fireball, for example, takes bat guano and sulfur -- you know, building blocks of gunpowder.

[prettypurpleparlor]

[Muffet nods in understanding.]

Fascinating. What does resurrection require to cast, then, besides the body of the person in question?

[greatcleavage]

Sprinkle of holy water, somatic and verbal components. The verbal components are the name of the spell, spoken reasonably clearly and distinctly.

...and since it takes ten minutes to cast, that's a lot of repetition of the word 'resurrection'.