The Fall of Armen ? Part One

     General Jain Erfindel stepped out of the darkness, not into light, for the only light here was that given from the faintly glowing threads of mikaela in the walls, but into the lesser darkness of the Chamber of Council.  He moved towards the dark form that he knew was his chair, stepping somewhat uncertainly in the dim light, if light it could be called; a faint glow that did not reveal objects but only lessened their ambiguity.  He sat upon his chair and gazed across the chamber, whose features became slightly more distinct as his eyes became acclimated first to the darkness of the hall and then to the dimness of the room.  He glanced at the threads of mikaela.  Mikaela, which glowed in the dark with a faint silver light, was a by-product of the production of adamant.  The glowing threads converged upon a large figure at the front of the Chamber, the Eye, the symbol of the kingdom of Armen, in which a large eye was inscribed within a circle.  He gazed around the table and was somewhat shocked as he noticed that he was not alone.

     Erfindel was always the first to arrive at the infrequent gatherings of the Council.  He used the precious moments before the Council to prepare what he would say and decide what to make public, what to seal to the Council (which kept the knowledge within the members of the Council alone), what to whisper only in a few ears (and which ears he would whisper in), and what to withhold altogether.  Knowledge was power, as the old saying went, and he was not one to deal out power carelessly.  And now, when he had the direst news in all the years that he had been general, just when this period of solitude was most vital, his solitude was taken from him.

     ?I knew that you would be here.?  Erfindel started slightly as the figure at the other end of the table spoke.  His voice was not loud, but it carried a good deal of force.  Erfindel could barely see the figure?s face in the dim light, but he could see that he was a Masked Councilor.  Masked Councilors, called Maskers in common parlance, functioned as spies for the King (though, of course, none would say so in his presence) and when they did come when summoned to the Councils, they always came masked.  Their identity was a closely kept secret, and only the king knew their true names and locations, yet it was possible for a shrewd observer to guess at their unmasked appearance and even their aliases while spying for the king.  Erfindel knew that he was not alone in having figured out the identities of a few of the Maskers.  Just now, the figure stroked his chin thoughtfully as if her were running his fingers through a beard hidden beneath his mask.  

     ?Well, now that I am, what is it that you wish of me??  At a time like this, delay was just as bad as a poor reply.  Delay betrayed uncertainty, and there were many who would take advantage of that weakness.

     ?There is something important that you must know.?  The Masker glanced this way and that, as though afraid to be overheard, despite the fact that in the dimness of that room he would have heard the footsteps of someone approaching long before he saw them.  He lowered his voice to almost a whisper, and above the endless echoes Erfindel could hear ?Aennor?You know of Aennor, yes??  Erfindel nodded.  Almost all of the Council knew of him; his skill as a negotiator was impressive.  Within two years of being admitted to the Council, he was already a member of the King?s inner circle, a position that usually took decades of work to attain.  ?He is a traitor.?

     ?How did you find this out?  Aennor has been invaluable as a councilor, and I cannot lightly toss his counsel aside.  Why would he defect after his success in Armen??

     ?You question my truthfulness, yes??  The Masker spoke as though through a smile.  ?I had expected that you would.  Always cautious.  I could sit here and tell you how much you can trust me until the sun drops from the sky and the world ends, but even then, I doubt that you would be convinced.  We have not enough time, at any rate.  But I am sure that you would be convinced by this.?  He made a circular gesture with his hands, and a sphere of light formed on the table in front of him.  Slowly, as though performing an action long considered but still unsure of the wisdom of performing it, he removed his mask.

     He brushed back a few hairs that had fallen over his wizened face, and seemed to smile.  ?This, of course, is not my true appearance, yet it is the guise that you will no doubt recognize.?  Erfindel nodded.  The man across the table was the owner of a small pawnshop in the Great Square, known more for his immaculate shop than the quality of his goods.  ?You see, there are some advantages to being a merchant.  For one, few guard their words around me, and some inquisitiveness on my part would not be taken amiss.  I am old, but age has not dulled my wits or hearing.  As for success?there is no better way to attain more information than to gain ranks, yes?  That should be enough, for more explanation would only waste time.  Any second now other Councilmen may arrive.  The fact remains: I am willing to give my life to rid Armen of this traitor (for you know, of course, that if my identity as a Masker is known, there will be many who would like to?shall I say?end my career).  Are you willing to sacrifice a bit of advice to do the same??

     ?Your words are well-rehearsed and intended to be pleasing to the ear, but I need time to consider the wisdom of their message.  Per-? the Masker froze as footsteps rang out in the hall.  He quickly replaced the mask on his head and extinguished the sphere of light.

     For the next few minutes, those who were summoned to the Council entered the hall.  Erfindel tried to concentrate on what he would say, but his thoughts were always dragged back to Aennor.  Was the suspicion of treachery enough to warrant losing such a valuable negotiator?  His gaze moved towards the door as Aennor walked in.  To the astonishment of all, he sat in the seat that only the King was supposed to occupy.

     The King?s chair was not more elaborately decorated or in any way different from the other chairs, for the Council was a place for ideas, not politics, and in that all were equal.  It was an unspoken rule, however, that each Councilor had a seat, designated by their position, that they and only they were to sit upon.  And there was an even stronger rule, a rule that custom had made as strong as law, that the chair under the sword was reserved for the King.  The sword shone slightly from the light of the mikaela, and looked as though it was about to fall at any time, even though it was suspended by a chain of adamant.  It was so gaudy that it could never be used in battle, but only as a symbol; a symbol of the enormous danger and duties that the King of Armen faced.  

     There was some murmuring at Aennor?s action, but none openly challenged Aennor.  That was the duty of the King, when he came.  It was not long before the sound of many footsteps wafted into the chamber, along with the flickering light of torches.  The King had arrived.  

     ?What is the meaning of this, Aennor??  His voice was strong and forceful, acclimated to the tone of command.  Many still remembered him as Sevron, for so he was named until he became the King four years ago.  But now he was the King, and had no other name; he was the office.

     ?I wished to see how you see this room.  After all, is it forbidden to sit in this seat??  

     ?A poor jest, Aennor.  You may consider it forbidden, as you knew very well.  Go to your seat.?  Aennor stood up and reluctantly moved towards his designated seat, but his face hid a smile.  The King strode towards his seat as the torches were lit, and his guards stood ready at their posts.

     ?I am sure that you have all heard of the message from the Rakonnen,? the King pronounced the word with contempt.  Heads bobbed in agreement around the table.  ?For those that have not, however,? he beckoned and a page handed him a sheet of thick, heavy paper, and he read ?To the King of Armen, Ruler in the Third Age, greetings.?  At this, some of the Councilors scowled.  The Rakonnen used their own system of Ages where it was customary to use the system of the recipients; in this case, the Seventh Age should have been stated.  

     The King read on, ?It is our right and duty, told to us by the seer Centhor, to conquer the lands of Erestor.?  Erfindel almost felt sorry for the Rakonnen leaders.  Ever since that wandering babbler Centhor, who called himself a ?seer?, appeared, they were bound hand and foot and had to do as he commanded, since the people of Rakonnen wholeheartedly supported him.  But nay, those leaders had wanted to attack Armen.  In this, at least, they were getting their way.  ?Having conquered all lands north of the Sorokim Mountains, our eyes now turn southwards, specifically, towards Armen.  Before you now are two choices: that of Olevion and that of Salethos.  We offer you only this counsel: Salethos surrendered and they now have leave to govern their affairs.  The dwarf-land of Olevion resisted, and we now have many useful, albeit half-sized, slaves.  Be wise.  Signed year 238 of the Third Age by Meldron, Imperator of Rakonnen.?

     ?Blessed be the name of the Imperator, and may each passing year bring him victory.?  Aennor barely mumbled the words, but the walls of the chamber magnified them and rendered them audible to everyone.  It was the benediction to the Imperator, said only by his Rakonnen servants.

     The King was the only one who seemed unmoved.  ?My word, Aennor!  You are full of poor jest today!?

     ?By your leave, sire, he means it as no jest.?  Erfindel pointed towards Aennor, ?This man is a spy for the Rakonenn; his words have just confirmed my suspicion.?

     Aennor laughed mirthlessly.  ?Erfindel, I am disappointed in you.  I would have expected one of your cunning to have come to that conclusion months ago.?  He now addressed the others, ?What this man said is true.  I am, indeed, an emissary of Rakonnen, and my time in false service of Armen is now ending.  Those who are wise would immediately join forces with Rakonnen.  They can, by force alone, destroy Armen, but with my council and information they are invincible.  And you!?  He laughed again and pointed at the King.  ?You chastised me for sitting in your seat, but ere long the position of King of Armen will exist no longer!?  

     He raised his hand and a ball of fire shot towards the hilt of the suspended sword, which hurtled downwards.  Only a quick step saved the King?s life.  Arrows whizzed towards Aennor, shot by the guards, but they bounced off, deflected by an unseen barrier.  Aennor laughed again, and began to Fade away, transporting himself back to Rakonenn.  Erfindel could barely make out the triple towers of Kashamador, the capitol buildings of Rakonnen, in the scene into which Aennor was Fading before Aennor left Armen.

What anti-d00d measures will be in Plane-Shift?  Here is an essay that may give some ideas.

An essay on d00dism and the MMORPG

(C) Copyright 2000 - Arios Truthseeker - Retired guild leader of the Circle
of Truth

It\'s Friday night. You and a group of close friends have gathered to play in
your favorite MMORPG. After many deaths, false starts, and wrong turns, you
and your party have finally reached the lair of the evil drog beast. You
give the order to buff the group. The sound of protective spells being cast
is accompanied only by the fetid sounding breath of the creature behind the
door. It has taken your group 4 weeks of hard play, tons of cash outlay for
equipment, countless deaths, and hours of corpse recovery to get here.
Knowing this, you can barely contain the excitement you feel at reaching
this goal as your casters announce their readiness one by one. This is it.
This is the moment you\'ve been waiting for. It doesn\'t get any better than
this.
All of a sudden, from behind you, you hear the sound of running footsteps.
You turn to look at what can only be yet another surprise, prepared for
battle, and...
...some player character equipped in armor, you\'ve never seen wielding a
weapon you\'ve never seen, moving faster than you thought possible, rushes
through the door. This person engages the drog, kills it in 2 seconds, loots
a weapon none of you have ever seen before, exclaims \'This suxor!\', then
offers to sell it to your fighter for an outrageous amount of cash.
Congratulations. You\'ve just met a kewl d00d.
Current evolutionary theory suggests that we evolved from voracious life
forms who fed on anything that they could possibly kill, with no regard for
anything other than their own hunger. Nowhere does experimental evidence
support this theory more than observing the feral estrus of greed known as a
\'kewl d00d\' inside MMORPGS.
Aside from the emotional conclusion of the above story (i.e. finding the
human on the other end of the avatar and paddling it\'s behind until it can\'t
scream anymore due to lack of breath), there are many reactions to this type
of player. Some attempt to oppose these creatures wherever they can. Some
others try to get on it\'s good side. A few attempt to rationalize with it,
usually to no avail. Some attempt to harness them into a collection of
creatures known as an \'uberguild\'.
All these reactions are useless.
The main purpose of this essay is to explain the problems and suggest
solutions about kewl d00dism in MMORPGS. Specifically, the best advice is to
treat them just as you would indigenous and dangerous creatures in the
MMORPG you are playing, attempt to avoid them at all costs and if you must
engage do so with caution, skill, and wit.
In order to see why and how this works, we have to understand the background
behind the d00d, why he exists, and what he really wants.
Let\'s start out with some basic concepts.
Determinism
There are various levels of determinism in any human endeavors which can be
briefly categorized like so:
Self-Determinism - In this, the lowest of the deterministic states, the
person is little different than any random biological creature out to
survive. Anything that is even remotely desired by a creature in this state
is taken by force, cunning, or whatever means works. Any creature in this
state will refuse to understand anything that does not relate directly to
the perceived and/or actual needs of the self.
Other-Determinism - The next level up is determinism for self and others. At
this point, the \'creature\' becomes a \'person\'. In this state, basic caring
and consideration (along with politeness) is expressed. This person
determines what is best for themselves AND others, and actually attempts to
understand what others need in this process. Not all others are considered
in this state, merely the ones that the person knows and cares about (e.g.
family, friends, lovers).
Pan-Determinism - This is the highest level of determinism known. The scope
of determinism is everyone, there is no thought towards or of self. All
determinations are made for the \'greater good\'. All people are cared about
relatively equally. Acts taken by such a person are generally in the best
interests of the entire community.
It\'s not hard to see that kewl d00ds are purely self-determined. One is
tempted to consider the lower end of the \'other-determined\' spectrum as
inclusive of d00ds. Unfortunately some d00ds are good at appearing to care
about someone, when in reality this appearance only serves as a tool to
satisfy their immediate needs.
So why is the d00d self-determined and not other-determined?
The profile of the d00d
It\'s very easy to theorize a profile of the kewl d00d in real life. The
typical profile is a human being in the age range of 10 to 17 with upper
middle class to wealthy parents, mental intelligence from mid to extremely
high, and emotional maturity in the fairly low to abysmal range.
Lets face it, our culture has a dismal environment for raising children.
Most kids share a televised reality which distorts the nature of beauty
until it fits a narrow category most people do not fit in. This reality
presents materialism as good and rewarding, and threatens to cast you out of
\'cool\' if you do not wear the latest styles, listen to the trendy depthless
music, or talk with the latest confusing lingo.
Most bright kids are aware of this at some level. Some have the courage to
attempt independence, some are so much smarter than others that others have
a hard time dealing with them, still others simply don\'t watch TV at all.
For this, and other reasons, bright kids tend to be ostracized by the
average intelligence peer, and this ostracization prevents the normal
development of other-determinism.
In simpler terms, when everyone is calling you uncool and teasing you, it\'s
really really hard to care about anyone other than yourself.
The end result of these pressures are not good:
* Self-worth is taken from outside stimulus (forget d00ds, most humans
have this one)
* A desperate need to be accepted by others, so as to influence and
reinforce one\'s self-worth
* A desperate need to gratify the ego, i.e. be perceived as \'better
than\', in hopes that this will achieve the acceptance they need
MMORPGs are an alternate reality. They are literally another world, where
the mistakes and memories of the real world can be rendered a distant
memory. This alternate world has different rules, a different social
structure, and most importantly a method to determine rank (levels and/or
possession of rare items). This ranking system, regardless of whether
meaningless or inaccurate, serves to distinguish players from the others.
High level players wearing cool stuff stand out from the crowd, are looked
up to, are accepted, and are considered \'better-than\' others.
The d00d is overjoyed upon seeing this alternate world. At last he has a
clear method to achieve this acceptance and ego-gratification. If only he
can get some levels and phat l3wt...
In this way, levels and/or equipment are seen as \'needs\' for the avatar.
It\'s something to prove, respect to be earned, and acceptance to be gained.
This is what the d00d perceives as real, never mind that this is not really
how things work. Remember that self-determined creatures will refuse to
understand anything that does not relate directly to the perceived needs of
the self.
Thus the d00d logs into the MMORPG, and the battle to regain his lost
self-worth begins.

The Fall of Armen ? Part One

General Jain Erfindel stepped out of the darkness, not into light, for the only light here was that given from the faintly glowing threads of mikaela in the walls, but into the lesser darkness of the Chamber of Council. He moved towards the dark form that he knew was his chair, stepping somewhat uncertainly in the dim light, if light it could be called; a faint glow that did not reveal objects but only lessened their ambiguity. He sat upon his chair and gazed across the chamber, whose features became slightly more distinct as his eyes became acclimated first to the darkness of the hall and then to the dimness of the room. He glanced at the threads of mikaela. Mikaela, which glowed in the dark with a faint silver light, was a by-product of the production of adamant. The glowing threads converged upon a large figure at the front of the Chamber, the Eye, the symbol of the kingdom of Armen, in which a large eye was inscribed within a circle. He gazed around the table and was somewhat shocked as he noticed that he was not alone.

Erfindel was always the first to arrive at the infrequent gatherings of the Council. He used the precious moments before the Council to prepare what he would say and decide what to make public, what to seal to the Council (which kept the knowledge within the members of the Council alone), what to whisper only in a few ears (and which ears he would whisper in), and what to withhold altogether. Knowledge was power, as the old saying went, and he was not one to deal out power carelessly. And now, when he had the direst news in all the years that he had been general, just when this period of solitude was most vital, his solitude was taken from him.

?I knew that you would be here.? Erfindel started slightly as the figure at the other end of the table spoke. His voice was not loud, but it carried a good deal of force. Erfindel could barely see the figure?s face in the dim light, but he could see that he was a Masked Councilor. Masked Councilors, called Maskers in common parlance, functioned as spies for the King (though of course none would say so in his presence) and when they did come when summoned to the Councils, they always came masked. Their identity was a closely kept secret, and only the king knew their true names and locations, yet it was possible for a shrewd observer to guess at their unmasked appearance and even their aliases while spying for the king. Erfindel knew that he was not alone in having figured out the identities of a few of the Maskers. Just now, the figure stroked his chin thoughtfully as if her were running his fingers through a beard hidden beneath his mask.

?Well, now that I am, what is it that you wish of me?? At a time like this, delay was just as bad as a poor reply. Delay betrayed uncertainty, and there were many who would take advantage of that weakness.

?There is something important that you must know.? The Masker glanced this way and that, as though afraid to be overheard, despite the fact that in the dimness of that room he would have heard the footsteps of someone approaching long before he saw them. He lowered his voice to almost a whisper, and above the endless echoes Erfindel could hear ?Aennor?You know of Aennor, yes?? Erfindel nodded. Almost all of the Council knew of him; his skill as a negotiator was impressive. Within two years of being admitted to the Council, he was already a member of the King?s inner circle, a position that usually took decades of work to attain. ?He is a traitor.?

?How did you find this out? Aennor has been invaluable as a councilor, and I cannot lightly toss his counsel aside. Why would he defect after his success in Armen??

?You question my truthfulness, yes?? The Masker spoke as though through a smile. ?I had expected that you would. Always cautious. I could sit here and tell you how much you can trust me until the sun drops from the sky and the world ends, but even then, I doubt that you would be convinced. We have not enough time, at any rate. But I am sure that you would be convinced by this.? He made a circular gesture with his hands, and a sphere of light formed on the table in front of him. Slowly, as though performing an action long considered but still unsure of the wisdom of performing it, he removed his mask.

He brushed back a few hairs that had fallen over his wizened face, and seemed to smile. ?This, of course, is not my true appearance, yet it is the guise that you will no doubt recognize.? Erfindel nodded. The man across the table was the owner of a small pawnshop in the Great Square, known more for his immaculate shop than the quality of his goods. ?You see, there are some advantages to being a merchant. For one, few guard their words around me, and some inquisitiveness on my part would not be taken amiss. I am old, but age has not dulled my wits or hearing. As for success?there is no better way to attain more information than to gain ranks, yes? That should be enough, for more explanation would only waste time. Any second now other Councilmen may arrive. The fact remains: I am willing to give my life to rid Armen of this traitor (for you know, of course, that if my identity as a Masker is known, there will be many who would like to?shall I say?end my career). Are you willing to sacrifice a bit of advice to do the same??

?Your words are well-rehearsed, and intended to be pleasing to the ear, but I need time to consider the wisdom of their message. Per-? the Masker froze as footsteps rang out in the hall. He quickly replaced the mask on his head and extinguished the sphere of light.

For the next few minutes, those who were summoned to the Council entered the hall. Erfindel tried to concentrate on what he would say, but his thoughts were always dragged back to Aennor. Was the suspicion of treachery enough to warrant losing such a valuable negotiator? His gaze moved towards the door as Aennor walked in. To the astonishment of all, he sat in the seat that only the King was supposed to occupy.

The King?s chair was not more elaborately decorated or in any way different from the other chairs, for the Council was a place for ideas, not politics, and in that all were equal. It was an unspoken rule, however, that each Councilor had a seat, designated by their position, that they and only they were to sit upon. And there was an even stronger rule, a rule that custom had made as strong as law, that the chair under the sword was reserved for the King. The sword shone slightly from the light of the mikaela, and looked as though it was about to fall at any time, even though it was suspended by a chain of adamant. It was so gaudy that it could never be used in battle, but only as a symbol; a symbol of the enormous danger and duties that the King of Armen faced.

There was some murmuring at Aennor?s action, but none openly challenged Aennor. That was the duty of the King, when he came. It was not long before the sound of many footsteps wafted into the chamber, along with the flickering light of torches. The King had arrived.

?What is the meaning of this, Aennor?? His voice was strong and forceful, acclimated to the tone of command. Many still remembered him as Sevron, for so he was named until he became the King four years ago. But now he was the King, and had no other name; he was the office.

?I wished to see how you see this room. After all, is it forbidden to sit in this seat??

?A poor jest, Aennor. You may consider it forbidden, as you knew very well. Go to your seat.? Aennor stood up and reluctantly moved towards his designated seat, but his face hid a smile. The King strode towards his seat as the torches were lit, and his guards stood ready at their posts.

?I am sure that you have all heard of the message from the Rakonnen,? the King pronounced the word with contempt. Heads bobbed in agreement around the table. ?For those that have not, however,? he beckoned and a page handed him a sheet of thick, heavy paper, and he read ?To the King of Armen, Ruler in the Third Age, greetings.? At this, some of the Councilors scowled. The Rakonnen used their own system of Ages where it was customary to use the system of the recipients; in this case, the Fourteenth Age should have been stated.

The King read on, ?It is our right and duty, told to us by the seer Centhor, to conquer the lands of Erestor.? Erfindel almost felt sorry for the Rakonnen leaders. Ever since that wandering babbler Centhor, who called himself a ?seer?, appeared, they were bound hand and foot and had to do as he commanded, since the people of Rakonnen wholeheartedly supported him. But nay, those leaders had wanted to attack Armen. In this, at least, they were getting their way. ?Having conquered all lands north of the Sorokim Mountains, our eyes now turn southwards, specifically, towards Armen. Before you now are two choices: that of Olevion and that of Salethos. We offer you only this counsel: Salethos surrendered and they now have leave to govern their affairs. The dwarf-land of Olevion resisted, and we now have many useful, albeit half-sized, slaves. Be wise. Signed year 238 of the Third Age by Meldron, Imperator of Rakonnen.?

?Blessed be the name of the Imperator, and may each passing year bring him victory.? Aennor barely mumbled the words, but the walls of the chamber magnified them and rendered them audible to everyone. It was the benediction to the Imperator, said only by his Rakonnen servants.

The King was the only one who seemed unmoved. ?My word, Aennor! You are full of poor jest today!?

?By your leave, sire, he means it as no jest.? Erfindel pointed towards Aennor, ?This man is a spy for the Rakonenn; his words have just confirmed my suspicion.?

Aennor laughed mirthlessly. ?Erfindel, I am disappointed in you. I would have expected one of your cunning to have come to that conclusion months ago.? He now addressed the others, ?What this man said is true. I am, indeed, an emissary of Rakonnen, and my time in false service of Armen is now ending. Those who are wise would immediately join forces with Rakonnen. They can, by force alone, destroy Armen, but with my council and information they are invincible. And you!? He laughed again and pointed at the King. ?You chastised me for sitting in your seat, but ere long the position of King of Armen will exist no longer!?

He raised his hand and a ball of fire shot towards the hilt of the suspended sword, which hurtled downwards. Only a quick step saved the King?s life. Arrows whizzed towards Aennor, shot by the guards, but they bounced off, deflected by an unseen barrier. Aennor laughed again, and began to Fade away, transporting himself back to Rakonenn. Erfindel could barely make out the triple towers of Kashamador, the capitol buildings of Rakonnen, in the scene into which Aennor was Fading before Aennor left Armen.

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