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futurology2016-07-28 03:25 pm
selfimage) wrote in futurology2016-07-28 03:25 pm
Entry tags:
- !alastair npc,
- achilles (iliad),
- ahad (inheritance trilogy),
- alice liddell (american mcgee's alice),
- ana ramir (original),
- archer (fate/),
- ban (the seven deadly sins),
- dipper pines (gravity falls),
- evan friave-goodlace (original),
- fiona (borderlands),
- giovanni (dogs: bullets & carnage),
- haise sasaki (tokyo ghoul: re),
- hellboy (hellboy/bprd),
- jesse mccree (overwatch),
- keith (voltron),
- kida (atlantis),
- king (the seven deadly sins),
- koltira deathweaver (world of warcraft),
- loki (marvel comics),
- olivia (fire emblem: awakening),
- papyrus (undertale),
- rey (star wars),
- rhys (borderlands),
- riza hawkeye (fullmetal alchemist),
- sansa stark (asoiaf),
- shizuo heiwajima (durarara!!),
- tsukuyo (gintama),
- zenyatta (overwatch)
VIDEO. UN: LOKI
[ the sound of the wind storm hollows dully against the cave walls. Loki's squidge, Bacon, can half be seen crawling in the confines of his tacky green jacket and over his knee from where he sits, sometimes ducking and squeaking when a particularly large gust hits. to keep it from screaming, Loki offers his fingers absently, which the little squidge pulls on with its pudgy arms before ducking low again. ]
Hello there, it seems like we'll be waiting this out for some time considering the weather-type circumstances. While we're all rotting away, etcetera etcetera, I thought we could amuse ourselves with a game. A little bit of team bonding funtimes, so to say. [ he twists a dark nailed hand in the air, gesturing. ]
Soo—oo ... it's called Two Truths and a Lie. How do you play? Glad you asked, it's simple! Give two true statements about yourself and add a lie to the mix, shake it up then toss it out there and see if your team members know you well enough to spot the lie.
Usually this is done with copious amounts of alcohol, but we're lacking at the moment. [ pause. ] But—ah—you could always enjoy the satisfaction of being right. It's not like we're doing much else.
NOTE | Feel free to threadjack if that's your thing!! :****
Hello there, it seems like we'll be waiting this out for some time considering the weather-type circumstances. While we're all rotting away, etcetera etcetera, I thought we could amuse ourselves with a game. A little bit of team bonding funtimes, so to say. [ he twists a dark nailed hand in the air, gesturing. ]
Soo—oo ... it's called Two Truths and a Lie. How do you play? Glad you asked, it's simple! Give two true statements about yourself and add a lie to the mix, shake it up then toss it out there and see if your team members know you well enough to spot the lie.
Usually this is done with copious amounts of alcohol, but we're lacking at the moment. [ pause. ] But—ah—you could always enjoy the satisfaction of being right. It's not like we're doing much else.
NOTE | Feel free to threadjack if that's your thing!! :****
no subject
He scrunches his face up in a grin, and then smooths it, thinking.]
Well, they're not about soap, and I've never seen one that was literally an opera, so forgive the name for being a linguistic oddity contextual to a particular time and place. I can't imagine there are a lot of ads that happen during storytelling in your time and place. Television is so much its own beast.
But 'soap opera' refers to a genre of entertainment characterized by a great deal of melodrama and... [He's starting to realize that he should tread lightly about how he explains this, because calling something a soap opera is not really a complement. He clears his throat.] ... and usually by highly unusual, statistically unlikely, social situations that carry with them a lot of opportunity for high emotional stakes.
For example, a very classic soap opera plot would be something like... two young lovers find out that they share a parent, and one of them is a secret love-child of an extramarital affair whose paternity test was switched at the last minute; or someone marries a person, only to find out years later that they unknowingly married that person's twin; or... [he's having to plumb the depths here] or someone's lover dies and they decide to make a clone of them, only to have the first person revealed to not be dead after all and it turns out the clone's evil...
Yeah, uh. Hmmm. Statistically unlikely interpersonal situations played for emotional drama.
no subject
How exciting such stories sound! Yet as familiar as you are with these soap operas which your people tell, you would find my father's tale hard to believe! Among the Achaeans the tales that are best loved are those that tell of the gods, and those that tell of great feats and the men who perform them - we take pleasure in hearing of the trials such heroes must overcome, the lovers they take to their beds, and all of the rest. Who would care to hear the story of an ordinary man?
[What he fails to understand is that Evan's taste in stories seems not to match his.]
If you wish to hear a tale of strange circumstance wrought by Fate, then I should tell you of a king who until lately lived in Thebes. You shall find this tale to be as astonishing as those of which you have spoken, this I assure you.
no subject
...but no, ever since Sigma put into his mind the comparison of Achilles to an audiobook, he's been curious. Deeply curious.]
Achilles, I'd be honored to hear you tell one of your stories.
Would you mind terribly if I recorded it? For posterity?
[And in case Sigma was right and it's good fare to take naps to later.]
no subject
You mean to make from this a film story, do you? Very well - I shall speak plainly rather than sing, for although I have skill with the lyre I am not a bard by training nor by trade, but if it should please you to have my words to listen to when you wish, then I shall oblige.
[He now gives Evan a moment to set up a recording, and at his prompting Achilles shall begin the story.]
As I have said, this happened not so very long ago, in the city of Thebes - a city cursed with misfortune, loured upon by the gods and by Fate itself for the dark happenings that had come to pass and which would soon come to light. There great Oedipus ruled as king for his cleverness in solving the riddle of the Sphinx, in a time when the city wept for the murder of their previous king Laius. Peaceful and prosperous were the days in which he wielded the scepter and had in his marriage bed Jocasta, once the bride of Laius but now his rightful wife, with whom he had two strong sons and two beautiful daughters.
Yet all was not as it seemed, and these happy days would be swallowed in plague unleashed by Phoebus Apollo, the distant deadly archer, whose all seeing eye knew the wicked truth which lurked in the house of Oedipus.
no subject
When he's ready, he nods, and sits back to listen while Achilles begins to spin his tale.
Oedipus is, of course, a name he recognizes, and his eyes go wide a little -- but he can't recall the way the story begins from his elementary-school level education on the Greek classics. This has got to be that Oedipus, hasn't it? There isn't another Oedipus lingering around Greek literature?]
Plague, you say?
[It's a prompt for more, which, he hopes, is a custom that dates back form the earliest days of storytelling.]
no subject
Indeed, a plague which ravaged so thoroughly the people of Thebes that Creon, son of Menoeceus and brother of Oedipus' queen Jocasta, sought wisdom at the temple of Apollo in Delphi. It is Leto's sleek-haired son, after all, who casts light upon the truth when it hides from mortal eyes. There he learned of what displeased the gods so: Laius' murderer had never been brought to justice in all these years, and the darkness which lurked in Thebes' breast could not be dispelled until he was found and fairly punished.
Long had been the years since Laius was slain. How was anyone to know what had become of the murderer? Where was Oedipus to begin, should he wish to save again the city which he so dearly loved although he thought it not his native land? There was none who knew but far-seeing Teireisias, that famed prophet who needs no sight to know the signs of birds and the hearts of the gods. He knew that the culprit was there in the house of Oedipus.
Yes, truly! For you see, it was Oedipus himself who had slain Laius at the crossroads ere he arrived in Thebes. Rumor has it that an argument arose between the two, and fury so blackened Oedipus' heart that he raised his sword against this stranger and struck him down. Yet this was not his most wicked crime. You might now wonder, what could have brought Oedipus to the crossroads where he slew Laius and thus doomed himself?
no subject
He even successfully fights down a grin, as he has an inkling of where this tale goes.]
Dare I ask? It sounds as if it must be something particularly heinous.
whoop there it is
Right you are to balk in the face of such dark truths! For you see, Oedipus happened upon those crossroads after fleeing his home in Corinth. He had lately learned of a terrible prophecy, which declared that he would murder his father and spoil the marriage bed of his mother. And so to avoid such an ignoble fate as this he left behind his dear native land, for what man would wish to be the slayer of his father and the husband of his mother?
In truth, however, Corinth was not his dear native land - and in trying to flee Fate, Oedipus ran headlong toward his terrible destiny like a river rushing in winter's spate! It was not Polybus of Corinth who had begotten him, but the man whom he met there at the crossroads - Laius of Thebes. Well did Laius and Jocasta know the prophecy which loomed over their son when Oedipus was born, and so to spare their family this black fate they bade a servant to abandon the infant to the wilds. But unable to bear such cruelty done unto a helpless babe, the servant instead gave him up to a shepherd of Corinth, who would bring the hapless Oedipus to his king Polybus. So ignorant was he to what cruel misfortune he wrought in saving the infant from a kind death!
In this manner, the prophecy came to pass. In seeking to please Phoebus Apollo and bring the murderer to justice, Oedipus uncovered the truth of his star-crossed existence. Jocasta, both his mother and his wife through the abominable design of Fate - her womb, the womb from which he exited the selfsame as that which he entered when he begat his children - she could not bear the burden of such a crime, and so she hanged herself. So horrified was Oedipus by that which he now saw, that which no man should be made to suffer, that he took pins from his wife-mother's dress and with these gouged out his eyes - so that never again must he see.
no subject
He may have seen where it was going but he's pretty grossed out now that he's here.]
I'd say that's oh so very soap-operatic, but I think I'd be hard-pressed to claim that a voluntary blinding would be that much of an overreaction to unknowingly marrying one's own mother.
No one in that story wins, do they? What happens to the guy's kids? Slash siblings?
[Not being up on his Greek mythology, that's a genuine question. Are there even stories of Oedipus's terrible, incestuous offspring? There must be, he reasons.]
no subject
Indeed, none in the house of Oedipus was left untouched by the curse placed upon his head, just as a plague will spread from one to another through the foul air the victims share.
Some time after accursed Oedipus was exiled from the city he had once saved, his sons born of his own mother's womb, Polyneices and Eteocles as I have heard their names, mounted armies one against the other to determine who alone should wield the scepter over Thebes. The two blood-cursed brothers entered into single combat and each struck the other down into the house of Hades. I've not heard what ever became of his daughters, but I am sure they cannot have found happiness in their ill-gotten existences.
no subject
Now, I've never heard of a transmissible curse, but there you are, I suppose. Incest usually comes with more genetic problems than, say, metaphysical ones, although I can imagine finding out after the fact that your father is also your brother would do a number on the mental health.
[Here's Evan, trying to un-squick himself by babbling semantics.]
Thank you for the tale, Achilles. You've got a knack for storytelling.
no subject
[Here were more words which he knows not, however.]
But what is this you are saying? Do not such unthinkable crimes bring misfortune upon those who dare commit them across all lands? Surely for all the differences among races of men there cannot exist any land where spoiling mother or daughter would go unpunished.
no subject
[Of course, he's never looked into incest laws back home, and now he's curious despite himself.]
Even then, though, I doubt anyone would hold it against the children for being unlucky enough to be born from such a disaster. It's not exactly their fault.
no subject