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Zyrxae

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  1. Upvote
    Zyrxae reacted to Chewett in PM's to email   
    Reminder for all: Reporting bugs in random posts, means the bugs never get fixed. The one you describe is known however and when i get time i will rewrite the emailing so its better.
  2. Upvote
    Zyrxae got a reaction from Phantom Orchid in PM's to email   
    "Clickable inactivity notification" is available under options, unless you're saying that it still sends those messages even with the box unchecked.
     
    How is reading an emailed message and deleting that same message before reading it in-game effectively different from opening a PM, quickly copying its contents into a text editor, hitting "read later" on the PM, and then deleting it?* Both allow the intended recipient to read the message without the receiver believing it has been read; the latter just has slightly more potential for human error.
     
    I'm for pms to email because it simplifies what I do anyway.
    If this does get worked on soon, I'd also like to ask about the line breaks not showing up in emailed PMs, at least in Gmail and Yahoo. (000A being converted into 0020, just for you Chew)
     
    *Of course I've never done this..
     
    EDIT: everyone's and DD's concern is valid, although I'd always seen this as more of a fun feature than an issue needing solving. If it comes down to it, though, the waiting period's fine by me.
  3. Upvote
    Zyrxae reacted to Burns in HC crisis.   
    ^Says it all.
    When coming off second in the biggest combat competition MD has to offer on a regular basis is something you have to fear, the whole competition is meaningless and should be stopped, or reworked until number ten in the ranking can still be like "Yeah, i was in the top ten of HC recently, that's how you spell dedication."
  4. Upvote
    Zyrxae reacted to dst in Forum Reputation System Poll   
    Click the button showing the reputation.
  5. Upvote
    Zyrxae got a reaction from John Constantine in Forum Reputation System Poll   
    I've talked to Chewett and apparently the following reputation options are possible:

        •    'Like' system—what we currently have. You can now view who likes what posts, by the way; thanks Chew!
        •    Positive and negative, transparent rep
        •    Positive only, transparent rep—almost the same as the like system, but you have to click to view who liked what
        •    Negative only, transparent rep
        •    Positive and negative, opaque—what we used to have
        •    Positive only, opaque
        •    Negative only, opaque
        •    No reputation system at all—means what it sounds like.

    Transparent means you can see how people have voted on posts; opaque means you can't.
     
    Options such as making negative but not positive votes transparent or vice versa aren't supported by the forum software.
     
    Some discussion has already taken place on this topic, but it's been over a month and people's opinions may have changed.
     
    Lastly: I have an opinion about this topic. If you consider this poll biased, say so and we can go from there.
    A tiebreaker poll could be used in case of a runoff, but that may be unnecessary—we'll see.
  6. Upvote
    Zyrxae reacted to No one in My neg rep   
    SPAM : Super, I am No. 2  in something. For this post you have a +1 :D
     
    On Topic:
    First of all : you "attacked" me, therefor I MUST respond thus this topic cannot be closed.
    Second: Are there any posts where I didn't neg rep you ?
    Third: maybe you should have considered then the result of your actions : you post -> you get feedback.
    In most of the topics I neg rep a person, I post something unless there are similar topic where I said something against it.
     
    Forth: having a feedback should tell you that some ppl like or not what you say and that is the real purpose of the reputation.
     
    Fifth: now that you are older, do you still consider that what you said in those posts don't deserve neg rep ?
    Hint: don't post when you are angry, just save you post in a text file and next day review & update & then post it if it is still the case.
     
    Six: Last but not the least important: Why do you think I bought you as a "slave" ?
     
     
    --------------------------------------------
    Update:
    Ok, you made me curious. I took just 5 posts (January - February this year) totally random. 3 were without any votes but the others .... just check them :
    http://magicduel.invisionzone.com/topic/13681-uses-for-resources/?p=131791
    http://magicduel.invisionzone.com/topic/13686-funeral-for-friend/#entry132170
     
    Then later on I found more and more
    http://magicduel.invisionzone.com/topic/13735-bhc-test-trial-of-agony/#entry132646
    http://magicduel.invisionzone.com/topic/13731-hc-crisis/page-2#entry132645
     
    I don't remember ever posting something that would request something to give ME an advantage so I am not ashamed of anything I wrote.
    But I did replied whenever I've got attacked directly and the proposals would have influenced others too. I am also not ashamed of writing those also.
     
    I really don't understand why I've got the neg rep ...  in most cases.
    As long as I thought I did something good I didn't cared for neg rep as I don't care now. If I have something to say, I will always say it.
  7. Upvote
    Zyrxae got a reaction from Maebius in Spread the love!   
    Thank you, Nimrodel, your words touch me in returning.
     
    In all honesty I feel more than a little funny accepting the wishpoint, maybe most of all because it feels like it makes the submission less genuine or more "commercial" (no insult to Nimrodel or others)...but then again this wouldn't have been finished, let alone made public had it not been for this topic. Disputing the reward would look (and probably would be) insincerely self-sacrificing and childishly attention-seeking and rude to Nimrodel, whose generosity should be rewarded, not punished.
     
    To that end: No idea if this is still happening or if the TKs are the only deciders here, but I'd like to nominate this topic for a wishpoint. (Nim, I'd give you one right now, but no bets how long you could keep it..!)
    Correlation's twitchy eyebrows be damned, the hate has simmered down since this topic was started and improved by each contributor. I think that deserves at least as much recognition as any one entry.
     
    EDIT for posterity's sake: The TKs gave Nim her well-deserved wishpoint.
  8. Upvote
    Zyrxae got a reaction from Hedge Munos in Spread the love!   
    Thank you, Nimrodel, your words touch me in returning.
     
    In all honesty I feel more than a little funny accepting the wishpoint, maybe most of all because it feels like it makes the submission less genuine or more "commercial" (no insult to Nimrodel or others)...but then again this wouldn't have been finished, let alone made public had it not been for this topic. Disputing the reward would look (and probably would be) insincerely self-sacrificing and childishly attention-seeking and rude to Nimrodel, whose generosity should be rewarded, not punished.
     
    To that end: No idea if this is still happening or if the TKs are the only deciders here, but I'd like to nominate this topic for a wishpoint. (Nim, I'd give you one right now, but no bets how long you could keep it..!)
    Correlation's twitchy eyebrows be damned, the hate has simmered down since this topic was started and improved by each contributor. I think that deserves at least as much recognition as any one entry.
     
    EDIT for posterity's sake: The TKs gave Nim her well-deserved wishpoint.
  9. Upvote
    Zyrxae reacted to phantasm in What would you do?   
    i would build a treasury/capital building in Tribunal public so all can view alliances, land votes, etc
  10. Upvote
    Zyrxae reacted to Liberty4life in What would you do?   
    bring back spark of md, wheres inner magic and other elements of game that kept ppl intrigued and really pinned to the game, that somethin which was beyond the game itself, md was always for me more than a game, now... now its just a game, when it comes to combat its just another click-to-grind game, when it comes to rp its awesome sandbox, althout i like chews idea of new coders, burns idea of remake of combat, seighs idea of major changes, it all falls towards improving md into better game, but at cost of its soul, i am personally not here for game, i am for somethin of higher value that stretches beyond game itself, if it were about combat no matter how good or even if i was the best, i wouldnt be playin this game more than 2 months, if it were about rp, no matter if i could become anythin my imagination ever desired, i wouldnt be playin more than 3 months, if it were about quality of player base and relationships, i wouldnt be playin more than 4 months, truely by end 08 i would quit the game, only thing that made me stay and return is the endless potential to awe and explore new things which are unseen to me ever before, finding connections about things that have never been found before by anybody and attempt to figure out how to do the "impossible", becoz exploring magic concepts made you feel that way, all of this were ideas md was based on, seein game move away from that special base spice is very hard for me to accept

    and i dont expect any player who havent played before start of 10 to understand the above
  11. Upvote
    Zyrxae reacted to Chewett in Forum Reputation System Poll   
    Clear +/- reputation has been put onto the forum.
     
    All members should be able to see who has given them reputation, if you havent your permissions are broken for that subset of groups, and please PM me to tell me you cant.
  12. Upvote
    Zyrxae got a reaction from Hedge Munos in Spread the love!   
    [log='Principle of Transposition']
    You said if a man sits in place long enough, with enough will and water he will turn into a tree, and so you did.

    You showed me how the man who gave you limbs was really just a man, and I shouldn’t worship him for doing what we all do naturally, just with a healthy dose of charisma. I said (wanted to believe that) charisma can make all the difference.
                  
    You essayed to write a poem a day, and sent me them for a while. One was second person and I thought it was for me. You said Not so. I say Forer effect, and the molding of ideas to fit their containers, how they stiffen when the heat fades.

    You said you read Coriolanus that night and so I stole it from the place with short ceilings and never gave it back, despite going back a couple months back. I still haven’t read it, like everything else, but I intend to.
          Intention is a little.

    Death you once called a fur about your neck, in which I saw a grandmother’s whole mink slung with eyes for exes, that you hadn’t seen.

    Your scent is apt: spring, all potential: the wind through this window. Your light is the morning highway with Photoshopped black & gainsboro birds and the Pretenders.

    We fought our separate clichés and hashed them down together. Who started it doesn’t matter, just how we finish them off put them down stop this once and for— It’s no use, they’ll always be around the corner, crouched.
          But we can wait there, too.
     
    I read you 2 October '10, and you said it was very like its author, which was true. It was very him.
        Mur exudes himself, but who doesn't? Our words are fingerprints, and some of us just can't wait to make our mark on the panes.
     
    You once told me we had our own language. As always, your words speak truer than mine. Where mine are halting and just a smidgen over the top in places you are smooth and piquing and a subtle breakthrough. Where I can’t but speak formalese, you ringed circles around my prose and called me the tern—the winderwild—that stopped at only the ionosphere, when it's too late to turn back and the wax is coming undone.

    Late one day in the summer I lay on my father’s bed and the circle and its void point came to me. 
I told you but you were taken by other things.
              Like Sanskrit, this idea iterates variedly:
                    - One needs three points to define a specific circle and a fourth point to complete that circle.
                    - Two qualities, graphed, mapped into two dimensions, is 22, is four points. (23::R3::sphere, and so on out to Riemann.)
                    - Numbers are defined, encircled by void—we stop counting because there is no more to count without retracing the circle.
                    - Humans achieve self-actualization through creating something greater than themselves.
                    - Whenever an attempt is made to close a system, a leak will appear that leads into a larger system. This is the smaller system’s point of void.

    I pɔərd over waves and sines. You thought I meant signs of hello/goodbye, and so they became.

    You asked me in anger how I twisted backwards and fit through the needle’s eye.
             Your words, not mine.
                    I said: With {among other things} splitting and headphones and a flashlight and matches and the admiration of small children and fossils and big rain and the kick of a cat and a slew and a spate and spats and the same thing over and over and less rain now and bicycle rage and plodding and plotting and hating and waiting and time.

    The friend who showed me Richard Siken says this reminds her of him, and since I consider you like him (ENFP), that fits.
                I showed her once your ballerina and my fields and asked which was whose. She got it right, but it took a while.

    Your longest, best friend here I never got to know and she always seemed tired and a little confused but with reason to be—as though she’d spent a hard day trying and just needed a rest is all. Maybe it was the lowercase.
           She gave me Nina Simone, you Here We Go Magic and don't take my life away.

    Portrait: the overlaying of several roads into the sun with power towers reflected on asphalt that aches to end with the sidewalk.

    We once decided your job was to make me uncomfortable like the sculpture that can’t stay settled and so keeps moving until it finds a place to stay, whereupon it dies, sharkic.

    I get your jokes.

    Just now I reread what I had written you as advice and thought you wrote it to me. This is why I never put names on these records: so that one day this might happen and I could be as good as you were when we first met.
                    As I reread this happens more and more, but maybe I just want to believe you rubbed off on me.

    Your once- (still?) friend introduced himself to me at the foot of your less-animate rival and from there we went to sea.

    I spent forty hours sleepless to see what it was like, because he said that sixty was when the voices came. He once tried to go crazy and stopped because it was working too well. You said you were crazy and that was the only way to be, because the world was. I agree that the best people are worse off sane.

    Bards, he said, stole all the girls with their pretty talk. But it’s not nearly so much glurgey flowers as emotion tied into the syllables.
              By all definitions of “bard”, you’re one.

    I winced away three nights in inverted chutes drawing I had no clue what, but definitely for you. You didn’t know what to verb preposition it but could look at it for a while, which is fair and was all I asked or expected. Its sun just hung there while people flowed.

    Once you thought I’d mastered something of yours, and it was an honor. “Verb preposition” resembles that style, and that will have to do because copying straight is out of the question.
    There's something about copying exactly that just doesn't feel right, like recorded music: the same each time, not fitted differently for each audience, one exact sequence of bits or pock-marks of sound—broken-up waves.

    I [don’t][didn't] have to tell you how I feel for you to know, and that[’s][was] huge.

    You can't stand people who aren't, who pack their emotions like suits into waterproof gutproof resealables overhead—Either they irk you or I impose my own views on you, or somewhere along that scale.

    More and more you’ve resigned yourself to the body and its bounds, or so I believed.
          You sent me flowers of glass with a baby in a carriage and you on the too-green lawn with the hose to nowhere that ended with your grandmother sipping carrot juice and shattering a daylily whose perfumed center hadn’t quite yet worn away. It stopped at an absurd poem, which elided perfectly because the whole thing was way oversaturated, but then sometimes life is too colored, too.

    You insisted that things came in fours and wouldn’t explain why, but I couldn't let that go.

    You've been called the transposition master. I agreed, because you more than maybe anyone else have transformed me into someone who could speak (sometimes), and movingly. But I wonder if it’s like a spell cast by a witch who’s killed: the glamour fades until a toad is just a toad once more.
        In that sense, this is a plea.

    {Xxxx xxxxxx xxxx} and I didn’t know what to say, so we didn’t, and we haven’t since.[/log]
  13. Upvote
    Zyrxae got a reaction from Ivorak in Spread the love!   
    [log='Principle of Transposition']
    You said if a man sits in place long enough, with enough will and water he will turn into a tree, and so you did.

    You showed me how the man who gave you limbs was really just a man, and I shouldn’t worship him for doing what we all do naturally, just with a healthy dose of charisma. I said (wanted to believe that) charisma can make all the difference.
                  
    You essayed to write a poem a day, and sent me them for a while. One was second person and I thought it was for me. You said Not so. I say Forer effect, and the molding of ideas to fit their containers, how they stiffen when the heat fades.

    You said you read Coriolanus that night and so I stole it from the place with short ceilings and never gave it back, despite going back a couple months back. I still haven’t read it, like everything else, but I intend to.
          Intention is a little.

    Death you once called a fur about your neck, in which I saw a grandmother’s whole mink slung with eyes for exes, that you hadn’t seen.

    Your scent is apt: spring, all potential: the wind through this window. Your light is the morning highway with Photoshopped black & gainsboro birds and the Pretenders.

    We fought our separate clichés and hashed them down together. Who started it doesn’t matter, just how we finish them off put them down stop this once and for— It’s no use, they’ll always be around the corner, crouched.
          But we can wait there, too.
     
    I read you 2 October '10, and you said it was very like its author, which was true. It was very him.
        Mur exudes himself, but who doesn't? Our words are fingerprints, and some of us just can't wait to make our mark on the panes.
     
    You once told me we had our own language. As always, your words speak truer than mine. Where mine are halting and just a smidgen over the top in places you are smooth and piquing and a subtle breakthrough. Where I can’t but speak formalese, you ringed circles around my prose and called me the tern—the winderwild—that stopped at only the ionosphere, when it's too late to turn back and the wax is coming undone.

    Late one day in the summer I lay on my father’s bed and the circle and its void point came to me. 
I told you but you were taken by other things.
              Like Sanskrit, this idea iterates variedly:
                    - One needs three points to define a specific circle and a fourth point to complete that circle.
                    - Two qualities, graphed, mapped into two dimensions, is 22, is four points. (23::R3::sphere, and so on out to Riemann.)
                    - Numbers are defined, encircled by void—we stop counting because there is no more to count without retracing the circle.
                    - Humans achieve self-actualization through creating something greater than themselves.
                    - Whenever an attempt is made to close a system, a leak will appear that leads into a larger system. This is the smaller system’s point of void.

    I pɔərd over waves and sines. You thought I meant signs of hello/goodbye, and so they became.

    You asked me in anger how I twisted backwards and fit through the needle’s eye.
             Your words, not mine.
                    I said: With {among other things} splitting and headphones and a flashlight and matches and the admiration of small children and fossils and big rain and the kick of a cat and a slew and a spate and spats and the same thing over and over and less rain now and bicycle rage and plodding and plotting and hating and waiting and time.

    The friend who showed me Richard Siken says this reminds her of him, and since I consider you like him (ENFP), that fits.
                I showed her once your ballerina and my fields and asked which was whose. She got it right, but it took a while.

    Your longest, best friend here I never got to know and she always seemed tired and a little confused but with reason to be—as though she’d spent a hard day trying and just needed a rest is all. Maybe it was the lowercase.
           She gave me Nina Simone, you Here We Go Magic and don't take my life away.

    Portrait: the overlaying of several roads into the sun with power towers reflected on asphalt that aches to end with the sidewalk.

    We once decided your job was to make me uncomfortable like the sculpture that can’t stay settled and so keeps moving until it finds a place to stay, whereupon it dies, sharkic.

    I get your jokes.

    Just now I reread what I had written you as advice and thought you wrote it to me. This is why I never put names on these records: so that one day this might happen and I could be as good as you were when we first met.
                    As I reread this happens more and more, but maybe I just want to believe you rubbed off on me.

    Your once- (still?) friend introduced himself to me at the foot of your less-animate rival and from there we went to sea.

    I spent forty hours sleepless to see what it was like, because he said that sixty was when the voices came. He once tried to go crazy and stopped because it was working too well. You said you were crazy and that was the only way to be, because the world was. I agree that the best people are worse off sane.

    Bards, he said, stole all the girls with their pretty talk. But it’s not nearly so much glurgey flowers as emotion tied into the syllables.
              By all definitions of “bard”, you’re one.

    I winced away three nights in inverted chutes drawing I had no clue what, but definitely for you. You didn’t know what to verb preposition it but could look at it for a while, which is fair and was all I asked or expected. Its sun just hung there while people flowed.

    Once you thought I’d mastered something of yours, and it was an honor. “Verb preposition” resembles that style, and that will have to do because copying straight is out of the question.
    There's something about copying exactly that just doesn't feel right, like recorded music: the same each time, not fitted differently for each audience, one exact sequence of bits or pock-marks of sound—broken-up waves.

    I [don’t][didn't] have to tell you how I feel for you to know, and that[’s][was] huge.

    You can't stand people who aren't, who pack their emotions like suits into waterproof gutproof resealables overhead—Either they irk you or I impose my own views on you, or somewhere along that scale.

    More and more you’ve resigned yourself to the body and its bounds, or so I believed.
          You sent me flowers of glass with a baby in a carriage and you on the too-green lawn with the hose to nowhere that ended with your grandmother sipping carrot juice and shattering a daylily whose perfumed center hadn’t quite yet worn away. It stopped at an absurd poem, which elided perfectly because the whole thing was way oversaturated, but then sometimes life is too colored, too.

    You insisted that things came in fours and wouldn’t explain why, but I couldn't let that go.

    You've been called the transposition master. I agreed, because you more than maybe anyone else have transformed me into someone who could speak (sometimes), and movingly. But I wonder if it’s like a spell cast by a witch who’s killed: the glamour fades until a toad is just a toad once more.
        In that sense, this is a plea.

    {Xxxx xxxxxx xxxx} and I didn’t know what to say, so we didn’t, and we haven’t since.[/log]
  14. Upvote
    Zyrxae got a reaction from Hedge Munos in Eon, we miss you!   
    "Tag! I'm still It!"
    My favorite part.
     
    I like to believe that Eon would remember these:
    Liberty: if one were to invade loreroot which would be the best course of action to conquer it?
    Eon: If someone was going to attempt to take over Loreroot, the best way to do it would be to teleport everyone inside to the lighthouse in GG. The person would then march their army inside.
    Eon: They would make sure I was on their side and station me at the front entrance to slow people down who try to take it back.
    Eon: They would load up with killing items beforehand and kill off anyone who tried to fight back.
    Eon: That's the best way
    Eon: You completely clear loreroot out in the beginning, and then kill off anyone who tried to get it back.
    Eon: Not up for debate

    Liberty: correct answer was
    Liberty: ..........
    Liberty: burn down the forest
     
     
    http://oracleofbacon.org/
     
     
    0111001010000100010000101
    1100101101
    =
    #E50885
    32D
    Coincidence? No way..
     
     
    In all seriousness, Eon had a unique perspective on his place in MD, without which he couldn't have gotten where he did. Say what you will about however else he reached his goals, he was an expert on quiet power.
    He approached situations as logical problems, but there was something elegant about his solutions that went straightforward into something more than plain answers. He made rules into shields and weapons as only the best lawyers/accountants know how. He was excellent with metadata: second only to dst (who to be fair has several years on him, and counting) at using information about quests' organizers/judges to determine his course within those quests. He understood not only the system but the actions if not always the motivations of the people who made it work. In his own dotty way, he was exceptionally Good At MagicDuel. I miss him.
  15. Upvote
    Zyrxae got a reaction from Kyphis the Bard in Eon, we miss you!   
    "Tag! I'm still It!"
    My favorite part.
     
    I like to believe that Eon would remember these:
    Liberty: if one were to invade loreroot which would be the best course of action to conquer it?
    Eon: If someone was going to attempt to take over Loreroot, the best way to do it would be to teleport everyone inside to the lighthouse in GG. The person would then march their army inside.
    Eon: They would make sure I was on their side and station me at the front entrance to slow people down who try to take it back.
    Eon: They would load up with killing items beforehand and kill off anyone who tried to fight back.
    Eon: That's the best way
    Eon: You completely clear loreroot out in the beginning, and then kill off anyone who tried to get it back.
    Eon: Not up for debate

    Liberty: correct answer was
    Liberty: ..........
    Liberty: burn down the forest
     
     
    http://oracleofbacon.org/
     
     
    0111001010000100010000101
    1100101101
    =
    #E50885
    32D
    Coincidence? No way..
     
     
    In all seriousness, Eon had a unique perspective on his place in MD, without which he couldn't have gotten where he did. Say what you will about however else he reached his goals, he was an expert on quiet power.
    He approached situations as logical problems, but there was something elegant about his solutions that went straightforward into something more than plain answers. He made rules into shields and weapons as only the best lawyers/accountants know how. He was excellent with metadata: second only to dst (who to be fair has several years on him, and counting) at using information about quests' organizers/judges to determine his course within those quests. He understood not only the system but the actions if not always the motivations of the people who made it work. In his own dotty way, he was exceptionally Good At MagicDuel. I miss him.
  16. Upvote
    Zyrxae reacted to DarkRaptor in [Suggestion] Moo spell.   
    *some* attempts later...
     
    [url=http://s1285.photobucket.com/user/darkraptormd/media/Cow_002s_zpsf869122f.jpg.html][/URL]
    [url=http://s1285.photobucket.com/user/darkraptormd/media/Cow_002a_zpsf0b8914c.jpg.html][/URL]
     
    :D
     
     
    also in frustration.. a crazy one appeared..
    [url=http://s1285.photobucket.com/user/darkraptormd/media/Cow_003s_zps1208c2f9.jpg.html][/URL]
     
    :P
  17. Upvote
    Zyrxae got a reaction from Mallos in Forum Reputation System Poll   
    Challenge accepted. It ends up being something like "the longer you stick around and talk, the more opportunity people have to form an opinion of you one way or another". (The graphs and simple regressions will get their own topic in due time..)

    Meanwhile, this has been up for a good while and the majority opinion received more than half the votes. Based on this poll, I recommend that the forum switch to a system of transparent positive and negative reputation.

    Final tally:
    "Like" system (current) (4 votes [10.26%]) Positive and negative, transparent rep (22 votes [56.41%]) Positive only, transparent rep (0 votes [0.00%]) Negative only, transparent rep (1 votes [2.56%]) Positive and negative, opaque (what we used to have) (7 votes [17.95%]) Positive only, opaque (1 votes [2.56%]) Negative only, opaque (0 votes [0.00%]) No reputation system at all (4 votes [10.26%])
  18. Upvote
    Zyrxae got a reaction from Aelis in Spread the love!   
    [log='Principle of Transposition']
    You said if a man sits in place long enough, with enough will and water he will turn into a tree, and so you did.

    You showed me how the man who gave you limbs was really just a man, and I shouldn’t worship him for doing what we all do naturally, just with a healthy dose of charisma. I said (wanted to believe that) charisma can make all the difference.
                  
    You essayed to write a poem a day, and sent me them for a while. One was second person and I thought it was for me. You said Not so. I say Forer effect, and the molding of ideas to fit their containers, how they stiffen when the heat fades.

    You said you read Coriolanus that night and so I stole it from the place with short ceilings and never gave it back, despite going back a couple months back. I still haven’t read it, like everything else, but I intend to.
          Intention is a little.

    Death you once called a fur about your neck, in which I saw a grandmother’s whole mink slung with eyes for exes, that you hadn’t seen.

    Your scent is apt: spring, all potential: the wind through this window. Your light is the morning highway with Photoshopped black & gainsboro birds and the Pretenders.

    We fought our separate clichés and hashed them down together. Who started it doesn’t matter, just how we finish them off put them down stop this once and for— It’s no use, they’ll always be around the corner, crouched.
          But we can wait there, too.
     
    I read you 2 October '10, and you said it was very like its author, which was true. It was very him.
        Mur exudes himself, but who doesn't? Our words are fingerprints, and some of us just can't wait to make our mark on the panes.
     
    You once told me we had our own language. As always, your words speak truer than mine. Where mine are halting and just a smidgen over the top in places you are smooth and piquing and a subtle breakthrough. Where I can’t but speak formalese, you ringed circles around my prose and called me the tern—the winderwild—that stopped at only the ionosphere, when it's too late to turn back and the wax is coming undone.

    Late one day in the summer I lay on my father’s bed and the circle and its void point came to me. 
I told you but you were taken by other things.
              Like Sanskrit, this idea iterates variedly:
                    - One needs three points to define a specific circle and a fourth point to complete that circle.
                    - Two qualities, graphed, mapped into two dimensions, is 22, is four points. (23::R3::sphere, and so on out to Riemann.)
                    - Numbers are defined, encircled by void—we stop counting because there is no more to count without retracing the circle.
                    - Humans achieve self-actualization through creating something greater than themselves.
                    - Whenever an attempt is made to close a system, a leak will appear that leads into a larger system. This is the smaller system’s point of void.

    I pɔərd over waves and sines. You thought I meant signs of hello/goodbye, and so they became.

    You asked me in anger how I twisted backwards and fit through the needle’s eye.
             Your words, not mine.
                    I said: With {among other things} splitting and headphones and a flashlight and matches and the admiration of small children and fossils and big rain and the kick of a cat and a slew and a spate and spats and the same thing over and over and less rain now and bicycle rage and plodding and plotting and hating and waiting and time.

    The friend who showed me Richard Siken says this reminds her of him, and since I consider you like him (ENFP), that fits.
                I showed her once your ballerina and my fields and asked which was whose. She got it right, but it took a while.

    Your longest, best friend here I never got to know and she always seemed tired and a little confused but with reason to be—as though she’d spent a hard day trying and just needed a rest is all. Maybe it was the lowercase.
           She gave me Nina Simone, you Here We Go Magic and don't take my life away.

    Portrait: the overlaying of several roads into the sun with power towers reflected on asphalt that aches to end with the sidewalk.

    We once decided your job was to make me uncomfortable like the sculpture that can’t stay settled and so keeps moving until it finds a place to stay, whereupon it dies, sharkic.

    I get your jokes.

    Just now I reread what I had written you as advice and thought you wrote it to me. This is why I never put names on these records: so that one day this might happen and I could be as good as you were when we first met.
                    As I reread this happens more and more, but maybe I just want to believe you rubbed off on me.

    Your once- (still?) friend introduced himself to me at the foot of your less-animate rival and from there we went to sea.

    I spent forty hours sleepless to see what it was like, because he said that sixty was when the voices came. He once tried to go crazy and stopped because it was working too well. You said you were crazy and that was the only way to be, because the world was. I agree that the best people are worse off sane.

    Bards, he said, stole all the girls with their pretty talk. But it’s not nearly so much glurgey flowers as emotion tied into the syllables.
              By all definitions of “bard”, you’re one.

    I winced away three nights in inverted chutes drawing I had no clue what, but definitely for you. You didn’t know what to verb preposition it but could look at it for a while, which is fair and was all I asked or expected. Its sun just hung there while people flowed.

    Once you thought I’d mastered something of yours, and it was an honor. “Verb preposition” resembles that style, and that will have to do because copying straight is out of the question.
    There's something about copying exactly that just doesn't feel right, like recorded music: the same each time, not fitted differently for each audience, one exact sequence of bits or pock-marks of sound—broken-up waves.

    I [don’t][didn't] have to tell you how I feel for you to know, and that[’s][was] huge.

    You can't stand people who aren't, who pack their emotions like suits into waterproof gutproof resealables overhead—Either they irk you or I impose my own views on you, or somewhere along that scale.

    More and more you’ve resigned yourself to the body and its bounds, or so I believed.
          You sent me flowers of glass with a baby in a carriage and you on the too-green lawn with the hose to nowhere that ended with your grandmother sipping carrot juice and shattering a daylily whose perfumed center hadn’t quite yet worn away. It stopped at an absurd poem, which elided perfectly because the whole thing was way oversaturated, but then sometimes life is too colored, too.

    You insisted that things came in fours and wouldn’t explain why, but I couldn't let that go.

    You've been called the transposition master. I agreed, because you more than maybe anyone else have transformed me into someone who could speak (sometimes), and movingly. But I wonder if it’s like a spell cast by a witch who’s killed: the glamour fades until a toad is just a toad once more.
        In that sense, this is a plea.

    {Xxxx xxxxxx xxxx} and I didn’t know what to say, so we didn’t, and we haven’t since.[/log]
  19. Upvote
    Zyrxae got a reaction from Nimrodel in Spread the love!   
    [log='Principle of Transposition']
    You said if a man sits in place long enough, with enough will and water he will turn into a tree, and so you did.

    You showed me how the man who gave you limbs was really just a man, and I shouldn’t worship him for doing what we all do naturally, just with a healthy dose of charisma. I said (wanted to believe that) charisma can make all the difference.
                  
    You essayed to write a poem a day, and sent me them for a while. One was second person and I thought it was for me. You said Not so. I say Forer effect, and the molding of ideas to fit their containers, how they stiffen when the heat fades.

    You said you read Coriolanus that night and so I stole it from the place with short ceilings and never gave it back, despite going back a couple months back. I still haven’t read it, like everything else, but I intend to.
          Intention is a little.

    Death you once called a fur about your neck, in which I saw a grandmother’s whole mink slung with eyes for exes, that you hadn’t seen.

    Your scent is apt: spring, all potential: the wind through this window. Your light is the morning highway with Photoshopped black & gainsboro birds and the Pretenders.

    We fought our separate clichés and hashed them down together. Who started it doesn’t matter, just how we finish them off put them down stop this once and for— It’s no use, they’ll always be around the corner, crouched.
          But we can wait there, too.
     
    I read you 2 October '10, and you said it was very like its author, which was true. It was very him.
        Mur exudes himself, but who doesn't? Our words are fingerprints, and some of us just can't wait to make our mark on the panes.
     
    You once told me we had our own language. As always, your words speak truer than mine. Where mine are halting and just a smidgen over the top in places you are smooth and piquing and a subtle breakthrough. Where I can’t but speak formalese, you ringed circles around my prose and called me the tern—the winderwild—that stopped at only the ionosphere, when it's too late to turn back and the wax is coming undone.

    Late one day in the summer I lay on my father’s bed and the circle and its void point came to me. 
I told you but you were taken by other things.
              Like Sanskrit, this idea iterates variedly:
                    - One needs three points to define a specific circle and a fourth point to complete that circle.
                    - Two qualities, graphed, mapped into two dimensions, is 22, is four points. (23::R3::sphere, and so on out to Riemann.)
                    - Numbers are defined, encircled by void—we stop counting because there is no more to count without retracing the circle.
                    - Humans achieve self-actualization through creating something greater than themselves.
                    - Whenever an attempt is made to close a system, a leak will appear that leads into a larger system. This is the smaller system’s point of void.

    I pɔərd over waves and sines. You thought I meant signs of hello/goodbye, and so they became.

    You asked me in anger how I twisted backwards and fit through the needle’s eye.
             Your words, not mine.
                    I said: With {among other things} splitting and headphones and a flashlight and matches and the admiration of small children and fossils and big rain and the kick of a cat and a slew and a spate and spats and the same thing over and over and less rain now and bicycle rage and plodding and plotting and hating and waiting and time.

    The friend who showed me Richard Siken says this reminds her of him, and since I consider you like him (ENFP), that fits.
                I showed her once your ballerina and my fields and asked which was whose. She got it right, but it took a while.

    Your longest, best friend here I never got to know and she always seemed tired and a little confused but with reason to be—as though she’d spent a hard day trying and just needed a rest is all. Maybe it was the lowercase.
           She gave me Nina Simone, you Here We Go Magic and don't take my life away.

    Portrait: the overlaying of several roads into the sun with power towers reflected on asphalt that aches to end with the sidewalk.

    We once decided your job was to make me uncomfortable like the sculpture that can’t stay settled and so keeps moving until it finds a place to stay, whereupon it dies, sharkic.

    I get your jokes.

    Just now I reread what I had written you as advice and thought you wrote it to me. This is why I never put names on these records: so that one day this might happen and I could be as good as you were when we first met.
                    As I reread this happens more and more, but maybe I just want to believe you rubbed off on me.

    Your once- (still?) friend introduced himself to me at the foot of your less-animate rival and from there we went to sea.

    I spent forty hours sleepless to see what it was like, because he said that sixty was when the voices came. He once tried to go crazy and stopped because it was working too well. You said you were crazy and that was the only way to be, because the world was. I agree that the best people are worse off sane.

    Bards, he said, stole all the girls with their pretty talk. But it’s not nearly so much glurgey flowers as emotion tied into the syllables.
              By all definitions of “bard”, you’re one.

    I winced away three nights in inverted chutes drawing I had no clue what, but definitely for you. You didn’t know what to verb preposition it but could look at it for a while, which is fair and was all I asked or expected. Its sun just hung there while people flowed.

    Once you thought I’d mastered something of yours, and it was an honor. “Verb preposition” resembles that style, and that will have to do because copying straight is out of the question.
    There's something about copying exactly that just doesn't feel right, like recorded music: the same each time, not fitted differently for each audience, one exact sequence of bits or pock-marks of sound—broken-up waves.

    I [don’t][didn't] have to tell you how I feel for you to know, and that[’s][was] huge.

    You can't stand people who aren't, who pack their emotions like suits into waterproof gutproof resealables overhead—Either they irk you or I impose my own views on you, or somewhere along that scale.

    More and more you’ve resigned yourself to the body and its bounds, or so I believed.
          You sent me flowers of glass with a baby in a carriage and you on the too-green lawn with the hose to nowhere that ended with your grandmother sipping carrot juice and shattering a daylily whose perfumed center hadn’t quite yet worn away. It stopped at an absurd poem, which elided perfectly because the whole thing was way oversaturated, but then sometimes life is too colored, too.

    You insisted that things came in fours and wouldn’t explain why, but I couldn't let that go.

    You've been called the transposition master. I agreed, because you more than maybe anyone else have transformed me into someone who could speak (sometimes), and movingly. But I wonder if it’s like a spell cast by a witch who’s killed: the glamour fades until a toad is just a toad once more.
        In that sense, this is a plea.

    {Xxxx xxxxxx xxxx} and I didn’t know what to say, so we didn’t, and we haven’t since.[/log]
  20. Upvote
    Zyrxae got a reaction from Phantom Orchid in Spread the love!   
    [log='Principle of Transposition']
    You said if a man sits in place long enough, with enough will and water he will turn into a tree, and so you did.

    You showed me how the man who gave you limbs was really just a man, and I shouldn’t worship him for doing what we all do naturally, just with a healthy dose of charisma. I said (wanted to believe that) charisma can make all the difference.
                  
    You essayed to write a poem a day, and sent me them for a while. One was second person and I thought it was for me. You said Not so. I say Forer effect, and the molding of ideas to fit their containers, how they stiffen when the heat fades.

    You said you read Coriolanus that night and so I stole it from the place with short ceilings and never gave it back, despite going back a couple months back. I still haven’t read it, like everything else, but I intend to.
          Intention is a little.

    Death you once called a fur about your neck, in which I saw a grandmother’s whole mink slung with eyes for exes, that you hadn’t seen.

    Your scent is apt: spring, all potential: the wind through this window. Your light is the morning highway with Photoshopped black & gainsboro birds and the Pretenders.

    We fought our separate clichés and hashed them down together. Who started it doesn’t matter, just how we finish them off put them down stop this once and for— It’s no use, they’ll always be around the corner, crouched.
          But we can wait there, too.
     
    I read you 2 October '10, and you said it was very like its author, which was true. It was very him.
        Mur exudes himself, but who doesn't? Our words are fingerprints, and some of us just can't wait to make our mark on the panes.
     
    You once told me we had our own language. As always, your words speak truer than mine. Where mine are halting and just a smidgen over the top in places you are smooth and piquing and a subtle breakthrough. Where I can’t but speak formalese, you ringed circles around my prose and called me the tern—the winderwild—that stopped at only the ionosphere, when it's too late to turn back and the wax is coming undone.

    Late one day in the summer I lay on my father’s bed and the circle and its void point came to me. 
I told you but you were taken by other things.
              Like Sanskrit, this idea iterates variedly:
                    - One needs three points to define a specific circle and a fourth point to complete that circle.
                    - Two qualities, graphed, mapped into two dimensions, is 22, is four points. (23::R3::sphere, and so on out to Riemann.)
                    - Numbers are defined, encircled by void—we stop counting because there is no more to count without retracing the circle.
                    - Humans achieve self-actualization through creating something greater than themselves.
                    - Whenever an attempt is made to close a system, a leak will appear that leads into a larger system. This is the smaller system’s point of void.

    I pɔərd over waves and sines. You thought I meant signs of hello/goodbye, and so they became.

    You asked me in anger how I twisted backwards and fit through the needle’s eye.
             Your words, not mine.
                    I said: With {among other things} splitting and headphones and a flashlight and matches and the admiration of small children and fossils and big rain and the kick of a cat and a slew and a spate and spats and the same thing over and over and less rain now and bicycle rage and plodding and plotting and hating and waiting and time.

    The friend who showed me Richard Siken says this reminds her of him, and since I consider you like him (ENFP), that fits.
                I showed her once your ballerina and my fields and asked which was whose. She got it right, but it took a while.

    Your longest, best friend here I never got to know and she always seemed tired and a little confused but with reason to be—as though she’d spent a hard day trying and just needed a rest is all. Maybe it was the lowercase.
           She gave me Nina Simone, you Here We Go Magic and don't take my life away.

    Portrait: the overlaying of several roads into the sun with power towers reflected on asphalt that aches to end with the sidewalk.

    We once decided your job was to make me uncomfortable like the sculpture that can’t stay settled and so keeps moving until it finds a place to stay, whereupon it dies, sharkic.

    I get your jokes.

    Just now I reread what I had written you as advice and thought you wrote it to me. This is why I never put names on these records: so that one day this might happen and I could be as good as you were when we first met.
                    As I reread this happens more and more, but maybe I just want to believe you rubbed off on me.

    Your once- (still?) friend introduced himself to me at the foot of your less-animate rival and from there we went to sea.

    I spent forty hours sleepless to see what it was like, because he said that sixty was when the voices came. He once tried to go crazy and stopped because it was working too well. You said you were crazy and that was the only way to be, because the world was. I agree that the best people are worse off sane.

    Bards, he said, stole all the girls with their pretty talk. But it’s not nearly so much glurgey flowers as emotion tied into the syllables.
              By all definitions of “bard”, you’re one.

    I winced away three nights in inverted chutes drawing I had no clue what, but definitely for you. You didn’t know what to verb preposition it but could look at it for a while, which is fair and was all I asked or expected. Its sun just hung there while people flowed.

    Once you thought I’d mastered something of yours, and it was an honor. “Verb preposition” resembles that style, and that will have to do because copying straight is out of the question.
    There's something about copying exactly that just doesn't feel right, like recorded music: the same each time, not fitted differently for each audience, one exact sequence of bits or pock-marks of sound—broken-up waves.

    I [don’t][didn't] have to tell you how I feel for you to know, and that[’s][was] huge.

    You can't stand people who aren't, who pack their emotions like suits into waterproof gutproof resealables overhead—Either they irk you or I impose my own views on you, or somewhere along that scale.

    More and more you’ve resigned yourself to the body and its bounds, or so I believed.
          You sent me flowers of glass with a baby in a carriage and you on the too-green lawn with the hose to nowhere that ended with your grandmother sipping carrot juice and shattering a daylily whose perfumed center hadn’t quite yet worn away. It stopped at an absurd poem, which elided perfectly because the whole thing was way oversaturated, but then sometimes life is too colored, too.

    You insisted that things came in fours and wouldn’t explain why, but I couldn't let that go.

    You've been called the transposition master. I agreed, because you more than maybe anyone else have transformed me into someone who could speak (sometimes), and movingly. But I wonder if it’s like a spell cast by a witch who’s killed: the glamour fades until a toad is just a toad once more.
        In that sense, this is a plea.

    {Xxxx xxxxxx xxxx} and I didn’t know what to say, so we didn’t, and we haven’t since.[/log]
  21. Upvote
    Zyrxae got a reaction from Maebius in Spread the love!   
    [log='Principle of Transposition']
    You said if a man sits in place long enough, with enough will and water he will turn into a tree, and so you did.

    You showed me how the man who gave you limbs was really just a man, and I shouldn’t worship him for doing what we all do naturally, just with a healthy dose of charisma. I said (wanted to believe that) charisma can make all the difference.
                  
    You essayed to write a poem a day, and sent me them for a while. One was second person and I thought it was for me. You said Not so. I say Forer effect, and the molding of ideas to fit their containers, how they stiffen when the heat fades.

    You said you read Coriolanus that night and so I stole it from the place with short ceilings and never gave it back, despite going back a couple months back. I still haven’t read it, like everything else, but I intend to.
          Intention is a little.

    Death you once called a fur about your neck, in which I saw a grandmother’s whole mink slung with eyes for exes, that you hadn’t seen.

    Your scent is apt: spring, all potential: the wind through this window. Your light is the morning highway with Photoshopped black & gainsboro birds and the Pretenders.

    We fought our separate clichés and hashed them down together. Who started it doesn’t matter, just how we finish them off put them down stop this once and for— It’s no use, they’ll always be around the corner, crouched.
          But we can wait there, too.
     
    I read you 2 October '10, and you said it was very like its author, which was true. It was very him.
        Mur exudes himself, but who doesn't? Our words are fingerprints, and some of us just can't wait to make our mark on the panes.
     
    You once told me we had our own language. As always, your words speak truer than mine. Where mine are halting and just a smidgen over the top in places you are smooth and piquing and a subtle breakthrough. Where I can’t but speak formalese, you ringed circles around my prose and called me the tern—the winderwild—that stopped at only the ionosphere, when it's too late to turn back and the wax is coming undone.

    Late one day in the summer I lay on my father’s bed and the circle and its void point came to me. 
I told you but you were taken by other things.
              Like Sanskrit, this idea iterates variedly:
                    - One needs three points to define a specific circle and a fourth point to complete that circle.
                    - Two qualities, graphed, mapped into two dimensions, is 22, is four points. (23::R3::sphere, and so on out to Riemann.)
                    - Numbers are defined, encircled by void—we stop counting because there is no more to count without retracing the circle.
                    - Humans achieve self-actualization through creating something greater than themselves.
                    - Whenever an attempt is made to close a system, a leak will appear that leads into a larger system. This is the smaller system’s point of void.

    I pɔərd over waves and sines. You thought I meant signs of hello/goodbye, and so they became.

    You asked me in anger how I twisted backwards and fit through the needle’s eye.
             Your words, not mine.
                    I said: With {among other things} splitting and headphones and a flashlight and matches and the admiration of small children and fossils and big rain and the kick of a cat and a slew and a spate and spats and the same thing over and over and less rain now and bicycle rage and plodding and plotting and hating and waiting and time.

    The friend who showed me Richard Siken says this reminds her of him, and since I consider you like him (ENFP), that fits.
                I showed her once your ballerina and my fields and asked which was whose. She got it right, but it took a while.

    Your longest, best friend here I never got to know and she always seemed tired and a little confused but with reason to be—as though she’d spent a hard day trying and just needed a rest is all. Maybe it was the lowercase.
           She gave me Nina Simone, you Here We Go Magic and don't take my life away.

    Portrait: the overlaying of several roads into the sun with power towers reflected on asphalt that aches to end with the sidewalk.

    We once decided your job was to make me uncomfortable like the sculpture that can’t stay settled and so keeps moving until it finds a place to stay, whereupon it dies, sharkic.

    I get your jokes.

    Just now I reread what I had written you as advice and thought you wrote it to me. This is why I never put names on these records: so that one day this might happen and I could be as good as you were when we first met.
                    As I reread this happens more and more, but maybe I just want to believe you rubbed off on me.

    Your once- (still?) friend introduced himself to me at the foot of your less-animate rival and from there we went to sea.

    I spent forty hours sleepless to see what it was like, because he said that sixty was when the voices came. He once tried to go crazy and stopped because it was working too well. You said you were crazy and that was the only way to be, because the world was. I agree that the best people are worse off sane.

    Bards, he said, stole all the girls with their pretty talk. But it’s not nearly so much glurgey flowers as emotion tied into the syllables.
              By all definitions of “bard”, you’re one.

    I winced away three nights in inverted chutes drawing I had no clue what, but definitely for you. You didn’t know what to verb preposition it but could look at it for a while, which is fair and was all I asked or expected. Its sun just hung there while people flowed.

    Once you thought I’d mastered something of yours, and it was an honor. “Verb preposition” resembles that style, and that will have to do because copying straight is out of the question.
    There's something about copying exactly that just doesn't feel right, like recorded music: the same each time, not fitted differently for each audience, one exact sequence of bits or pock-marks of sound—broken-up waves.

    I [don’t][didn't] have to tell you how I feel for you to know, and that[’s][was] huge.

    You can't stand people who aren't, who pack their emotions like suits into waterproof gutproof resealables overhead—Either they irk you or I impose my own views on you, or somewhere along that scale.

    More and more you’ve resigned yourself to the body and its bounds, or so I believed.
          You sent me flowers of glass with a baby in a carriage and you on the too-green lawn with the hose to nowhere that ended with your grandmother sipping carrot juice and shattering a daylily whose perfumed center hadn’t quite yet worn away. It stopped at an absurd poem, which elided perfectly because the whole thing was way oversaturated, but then sometimes life is too colored, too.

    You insisted that things came in fours and wouldn’t explain why, but I couldn't let that go.

    You've been called the transposition master. I agreed, because you more than maybe anyone else have transformed me into someone who could speak (sometimes), and movingly. But I wonder if it’s like a spell cast by a witch who’s killed: the glamour fades until a toad is just a toad once more.
        In that sense, this is a plea.

    {Xxxx xxxxxx xxxx} and I didn’t know what to say, so we didn’t, and we haven’t since.[/log]
  22. Upvote
    Zyrxae reacted to BFH in BFH's Seven Puzzles Quest   
    A year later this person appeared and claimed her reward via email. I never quote any emails I receive to my official md adress, but this time I did as an exception.
     
     
     
    I verified the email address and she is indeed the missing winner. I will proceed with the reward of a Wish Point to zyrxae.
     
    The fact that I'm announcing this here is because I want things to be very clear to avoid confusions. I value the time spent on any of the quests, events or festivals I organize, and if I promise a reward I will give it.
     
    If anyone needs any further evidence feel free to contact me.
     
    B
  23. Upvote
    Zyrxae reacted to Jester in Public items, resource gathering and STEALING!   
    Not grab the thief, but accuse them. Enough accusations could give a thief tag with additional penalties.
     
    One thing I really like about stealing is that anyone would be able to get any resource, not just people who happened to be given a tool.
     
    Stealing should be interesting, but a related possibility is items that take a long, long time and lots of community effort to build up, with a way for different groups to vie for control. The stealing mechanism seems like it could build up to this.
     
    I think that not only should you be able to steal resources as they're being harvested, but after more recipes are introduced, you should be able to steal from anyone who has enough resources hoarded up and hasn't used them for anything. Items should NEVER be able to be stolen however.
     
    Land based mechanisms that could be used to increase the strength of one land or take away from another could be used as well. Could relate to torches, instead of the annoying AP system it used last time, each land could have items that could be built or destroyed that effect people in the land, reducing or increasing AP cost, giving stat bonuses, being able to push people out of your land... the possibilites are endless.
     
    Land affiliation bonuses could be controlled this way too. Reduce your land's AP timer, increase stat bonuses, even control how many alliance seats you have. I think it would encourage a lot more unity amongst the lands and give people a goal to work towards together. Items within a scene could also effect how quickly your land's resources regenerate.
     
    Even inner magic could be related to this, being able to use ingredients as a focus for spells or something (if thats how they work, I've never heard of anyone actually using inner magic). Get enough people together and you could cast a spell.
     
    A resource that people are given based on Active Days could also come into effect, and be used to support an idea. An interface where people could come up with a new alliance idea or the garden like Rumi could let people put their Active Days in, and once enough support has been gathered, something new could be created. Items with new uses and new recipes could fall in this category as well.
     
    Whoops, I got way off track there, sorry. I got really excited. Most of that should probably go in another topic. The way those things are related to stealing is that stealing could apply to things being created, not just resources being gathered I guess.
     
    This could revolutonize MD and make the gameplay infinitely more fun, if its implemented in an interesting way. I would probably never stop playing.
     
     
     
    EDIT: Ok, I'm going to continue my previous ideas and link them to stealing. Things being created could be stolen from the same way resources being harvested could be. While building something up, others could come and take your materials. An example would be lands being able work on building something that would reduce their AP timer, while other lands try to steal the resources from it and use it to build their own. Putting a limit on how many resources could be used per day, as well as allowing those resources to be stolen during that day, would work for this.
     
    EDIT 2: Another idea: creating items that work similarly to heads, but that can be used in items. Example: A totem that stores these "heads" and can be stolen from. After stealing the "heads", the person needs to get back to their land without someone attacking them and taking the "heads". After doing so, the heads can be deposited in the item for a special effect.
  24. Upvote
    Zyrxae reacted to Chewett in Free Magistra   
    Fool me once, Shame on you, Fool me twice, Shame on me

    Everyone deserves a second chance, letting her spend a day, or a month in jail at this point will not make her learn her lesson any more or less i feel. If she does something like this again, i will not be there to suggest she is freed, and will even go as far to cite this issue, stating she has not changed, or learnt from this.

    I believe she has changed, and that we should let her move on. I certainly dont want to drag out the issue anymore. And if im wrong, you can come say you told me so, but in my eyes, she has wronged rophs, vertu and me. So surely we should get a say in her punishment?

    And if im wrong? she will likely to go jail for a lot longer, and on the even bigger plus side, you can say "i told you so"
  25. Upvote
    Zyrxae reacted to Dan in Interim Dream Quest   
    and btw, i think the background could use another color. The current one is not very helpful. It is impossible (for me) to see the borderline of white pieces.
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