#it's theoretically and pragmatically wrong on multiple levels

[rotationalsymmetry]

I don’t know if this is what you are looking for exactly, but I enjoy writing for Postcards to Voters because they focus on non-presidential races. I am currently writing postcards against an anti-choice constitutional amendment proposition in Ohio.

I wish more people would do things like that, instead of making posts that guilt trip people for not being excited enough about voting for the Blue sexual harasser instead of the Red one.

Thank you for your highly sensible response.

I guess there's a thing where "just because someone takes 15 seconds to shoot their mouth off online about something that's annoying them doesn't mean they have the time/energy to do anything actually constructive, even more so for the people who took .5 seconds to hit reblog now on someone else's shooting their mouth of post" but I think it would be strictly better for people to spend that .5 second exerting a smidgen of self control and going "either it's actual GOTV or it's not, and if it's not I'm going to not reblog it."

And as the election is over a year away...I don't think "vote blue no matter who" is actually a Get Out The Vote action at this point in time. It's annoying enough when people do it in person but at least then there's occasionally some chance of having a reasonable discussion about it, but on social media between people who don't really know each other? Ha snowball's chance in hell.

(I haven't done Postcards to Voters the last couple years, but I did around 2019-2020 or so and they are fairly low barrier to entry as long as you have stamp money, super introvert friendly, you can be as creative or non-creative as you want to be, and as you can do it from your home on your own schedule pretty darn spoonie friendly as well. As well as covid-safe. And yes, there's a big focus on local/state campaigns, which warms my participatory democracy loving little heart.) (ughh sounds like an important campaign maybe I should pick this thing up again.)

[dundermifflin-this-is-pam-blog]

Good Omens MBTI

Spoilers for Good Omens ahead!

Aziraphale (ISFJ):

Aziraphale likes order and keeping things the way that they are. His primary function Si makes him hold onto small comforts found in the human world and which he doesn’t want to give up and value the life he has built for himself with his bookshop in London. Little comforts such as loving human food, and liking that people at restaurants all know who he is are what keeps Aziraphale attached to the human world (Si and Fe interacting). His second function Fe makes him feel for the human race and all its done in the world. Not just in a theoretical way, as in he only protects and cares about the humans because it’s his purpose to do so. He cares about them because he likes them and believes that they are good. And we see that because he can also be convinced that they are bad, and they deserved to be punished on an individual level. His 3rd function, Ti allows Aziraphale to keep up with Crowley. Although he generally prefers to deal with what he knows, Aziraphale can be very analytical and pragmatic such as when he leaves Heaven to go to earth in a creative way once his body disappears and finding a way to possess a body once he gets there. Finally, Ne is the last and inherently Aziraphale’s weakest function and it’s what Crowley primarily brings out in him. He struggles to come to terms with going against the status quo of Heaven but is convinced to see different ideas and perspectives from Crowley’s primary Ne function. While Ne is in conflict with Si and makes Aziraphale wary of going against the established order, once he really considers what good and evil means the choice is simple and the apocalypse must be stopped.

Crowley (ENTP):

Crowley’s primary function is Ne and he is full of ideas. He states quite clearly that he only fell because he hung around with the wrong people and asked questions. He sees multiple perspectives and questions to great plan at every turn, not necessarily because he believes it’s wrong but only because it’s limiting his constant flow of Ne ideas. Crowley’s second function is Ti and we see it in his multiple schemes and plots to make life easier for himself. The original plot of him and Aziraphale not having to work so hard and helping each other out by doing both miracles and temptations. However, he also finds a way to avoid Hastur for much of the later part of the season after his ‘traitorous’ actions are discovered. He uses his Ti to sort through his Ne ideas and this logical analysis is how he justifies his decision to avert the apocalypse to Aziraphale. His 3rd function Fe is where his interest in both Aziraphale and the human race comes from. His stream of ideas often comes up with sympathy for those around him and seeing the value of human people and their ideas. He also creates a strong bond with Aziraphale over time and seeing him be more than an angelic stereotype. He could have rejected Aziraphale outright as another angelic stereotype but seeing his seemingly contrary actions, Crowley analyzes his behavior through Fe and sees that Aziraphale is different. His final function Si is Azis main function and makes him uncomfortable with the status quo. He struggles with the old backwards ways of demons and while he attempts to do evil he does it with modern technology which other demons don’t understand. He however appeals to this Si value in Aziraphale when he sees how much the angel likes small comforts such as his bookshop, clothes and human food.

[meeedeee]

Cancel Culture: The Internet Eating Itself RSS FEED OF POST WRITTEN BY FOZMEADOWS

As social media platforms enter their collective adolescence – Facebook is fifteen, YouTube fourteen, Twitter thirteen, tumblr twelve – I find myself thinking about how little we really understand their cultural implications, both ongoing and for the future. At this point, the idea that being online is completely optional in modern world ought to be absurd, and yet multiple friends, having spoken to their therapists about the impact of digital abuse on their mental health, were told straight up to just stop using the internet. Even if this was a viable option for some, the idea that we can neatly sidestep the problem of bad behaviour in any non-utilitarian sphere by telling those impacted to simply quit is baffling at best and a tacit form of victim-blaming at worst. The internet might be a liminal space, but object permanence still applies to what happens here: the trolls don’t vanish if we close our eyes, and if we vanquish one digital hydra-domain for Toxicity Crimes without caring to fathom the whys and hows of what went wrong, we merely ensure that three more will spring up in its place.

Is the internet a private space, a government space or a public space? Yes.

Is it corporate, communal or unaffiliated? Yes.

Is it truly global or bound by local legal jurisdictions? Yes.

Does the internet reflect our culture or create it? Yes.

Is what people say on the internet reflective of their true beliefs, or is it a constant shell-game of digital personas, marketing ploys, intrusive thoughts, growth-in-progress, personal speculation and fictional exploration? Yes.

The problem with the internet is that takes up all three areas on a Venn diagram depicting the overlap between speech and action, and while this has always been the case, we’re only now admitting that it’s a bug as well as a feature. Human interaction cannot be usefully monitored using an algorithm, but our current conception of What The Internet Is has been engineered specifically to shortcut existing forms of human oversight, the better to maximise both accessibility (good to neutral) and profits (neutral to bad). Uber and Lyft are cheaper, frequently more convenient alternatives to a traditional taxi service, for instance, but that’s because the apps themselves are functionally predicated on the removal of meaningful customer service and worker protections that were hard-won elsewhere. Sites like tumblr are free to use, but the lack of revenue generated by those users means that, past a certain point, profits can only hope to outstrip expenses by selling access to those users and/or their account data, which means in turn that paying to effectively monitor their content creation becomes vastly less important than monetising it.

Small wonder, then, that individual users of social media platforms have learned to place a high premium on their ability to curate what they see, how they see it, and who sees them in turn. When I first started blogging, the largely unwritten rule of the blogsphere was that, while particular webforums dedicated to specific topics could have rules about content and conduct, blogs and their comment pages should be kept Free. Monitoring comments was viewed as a sign of narrow-minded fearfulness: even if a participant was aggressive or abusive, the enlightened path was to let them speak, because anything else was Censorship. This position held out for a good long while, until the collective frustration of everyone who’d been graphically threatened with rape, torture and death, bombarded with slurs, exhausted by sealioning or simply fed up with nitpicking and bad faith arguments finally boiled over.

Particularly in progressive circles, the relief people felt at being told that actually, we were under no moral obligation to let assholes grandstand in the comments or repeatedly explain basic concepts to only theoretically invested strangers was overwhelming. Instead, you could simply delete them, or block them, or maybe even mock them, if the offence or initial point of ignorance seemed silly enough. But as with the previous system, this one-size-fits-all approach soon developed a downside. Thanks to the burnout so many of us felt after literal years of trying to treat patiently with trolls playing Devil’s Advocate, liberal internet culture shifted sharply towards immediate shows of anger, derision and flippancy to anyone who asked a 101 question, or who didn’t use the right language, or who did anything other than immediately agree with whatever position was explained to them, however simply.

I don’t exempt myself from this criticism, but knowing why I was so goddamn tired doesn’t change my conviction that, cumulatively, the end result did more harm than good. Without wanting to sidetrack into a lengthy dissertation on digital activism in the post-aughties decade, it seems evident in hindsight that the then-fledgling alliance between trolls, MRAs, PUAs, Redditors and 4channers to deliberately exhaust left-wing goodwill via sealioning and bad faith arguments was only the first part of a two-pronged attack. The second part, when the left had lost all patience with explaining its own beliefs and was snappily telling anyone who asked about feminism, racism or anything else to just fucking Google it, was to swoop in and persuade the rebuffed party that we were all irrational, screeching harridans who didn’t want to answer because we knew our answers were bad, and why not consider reading Roosh V instead?

The fallout of this period, I would argue, is still ongoing. In an ideal world, drawing a link between online culture wars about ownership of SFF and geekdom and the rise of far-right fascist, xenophobic extremism should be a bow so long that not even Odysseus himself could draw it. But this world, as we’ve all had frequent cause to notice, is far from ideal at the best of times – which these are not – and yet another featurebug of the internet is the fluid interpermeability of its various spaces. We talk, for instance – as I am talking here – about social media as a discreet concept, as though platforms like Twitter or Facebook are functionally separate from the other sites to which their users link; as though there is no relationship between or bleed-through from the viral Facebook post screencapped and shared on BuzzFeed, which is then linked and commented upon on Reddit, which thread is then linked to on Twitter, where an entirely new conversation emerges and subsequently spawns an article in The Huffington Post, which is shared again on Facebook and the replies to that shared on tumblr, and so on like some grizzly perpetual mention machine.

But I digress. The point here is that internet culture is best understood as a pattern of ripples, each new iteration a reaction to the previous one, spreading out until it dissipates and a new shape takes its place. Having learned that slamming the virtual door in everyone’s face was a bad idea, the online left tried establishing a better, calmer means of communication; the flipside was a sudden increase in tone-policing, conversations in which presentation was vaunted over substance and where, once again, particular groups were singled out as needing to conform to the comfort-levels of others. Overlapping with this was the move towards discussing things as being problematic, rather than using more fixed and strident language to decry particular faults – an attempt to acknowledge the inherent fallibility of human works while still allowing for criticism. A sensible goal, surely, but once again, attempting to apply the dictum universally proved a double-edged sword: if everything is problematic, then how to distinguish grave offences from trifling ones? How can anyone enjoy anything if we’re always expected to thumb the rosary of its failings first?

When everything is problematic and everyone has the right to say so, being online as any sort of creator or celebrity is like being nibbled to death by ducks. The well-meaning promise of various organisations, public figures or storytellers to take criticism on board – to listen to the fanbase and do right by their desires – was always going to stumble over the problem of differing tastes. No group is a hivemind: what one person considers bad representation or in poor taste, another might find enlightening, while yet a third party is more concerned with something else entirely. Even in cases with a clear majority opinion, it’s physically impossible to please everyone and a type of folly to try, but that has yet to stop the collective internet from demanding it be so. Out of this comes a new type of ironic frustration: having once rejoiced in being allowed to simply block trolls or timewasters, we now cast judgement on those who block us in turn, viewing them, as we once were viewed, as being fearful of criticism.

Are we creating echo chambers by curating what we see online, or are we acting in pragmatic acknowledgement of the fact that we neither have time to read everything nor an obligation to see all perspectives as equally valid? Yes.

Even if we did have the time and ability to wade through everything, is the signal-to-noise ratio of truth to lies on the internet beyond our individual ability to successfully measure, such that outsourcing some of our judgement to trusted sources is fundamentally necessary, or should we be expected to think critically about everything we encounter, even if it’s only intended as entertainment? Yes.

If something or someone online acts in a way that’s antithetical to our values, are we allowed to tune them out thereafter, knowing full well that there’s a nearly infinite supply of as-yet undisappointing content and content-creators waiting to take their place, or are we obliged to acknowledge that Doing A Bad doesn’t necessarily ruin a person forever? Yes.

And thus we come to cancel culture, the current – but by no means final – culmination of previous internet discourse waves. In this iteration, burnout at critical engagement dovetails with a new emphasis on collective content curation courtesies (try saying that six times fast), but ends up hamstrung once again by differences in taste. Or, to put it another way: someone fucks up and it’s the last straw for us personally, so we try to remove them from our timelines altogether – but unless our friends and mutuals, who we still want to engage with, are convinced to do likewise, then we haven’t really removed them at all, such that we’re now potentially willing to make failure to cancel on demand itself a cancellable offence.

Which brings us right back around to the problem of how the modern internet is fundamentally structured – which is to say, the way in which it’s overwhelmingly meant to rely on individual curation instead of collective moderation. Because the one thing each successive mode of social media discourse has in common with its predecessors is a central, and currently unanswerable question: what universal code of conduct exists that I, an individual on the internet, can adhere to – and expect others to adhere to – while we communicate across multiple different platforms?

In the real world, we understand about social behavioural norms: even if we don’t talk about them in those terms, we broadly recognise them when we see them. Of course, we also understand that those norms can vary from place to place and context to context, but as we can only ever be in one physical place at a time, it’s comparatively easy to adjust as appropriate.

But the internet, as stated, is a liminal space: it’s real and virtual, myriad and singular, private and public all at once. It confuses our sense of which rules might apply under which circumstances, jumbles the normal behavioural cues by obscuring the identity of our interlocutors, and even though we don’t acknowledge it nearly as often as we should, written communication – like spoken communication – is a skill that not everyone has, just as tone, whether spoken or written, isn’t always received (or executed, for that matter) in the way it was intended. And when it comes to politics, in which the internet and its doings now plays no small role, there’s the continual frustration that comes from observing, with more and more frequency, how many literal, real-world crimes and abuses go without punishment, and how that lack of consequences contributes in turn to the fostering of abuse and hostility towards vulnerable groups online.

This is what comes of occupying a transitional period in history: one in which laws are changed and proposed to reflect our changing awareness of the world, but where habit, custom, ignorance, bias and malice still routinely combine, both institutionally and more generally, to see those laws enacted only in part, or tokenistically, or not at all. To take one of the most egregious and well-publicised instances that ultimately presaged the #MeToo movement, the laughably meagre sentence handed down to Brock Turner, who was caught in the act of raping an unconscious woman, combined with the emphasis placed by both the judge and much of the media coverage on his swimming talents and family standing as a means of exonerating him, made it very clear that sexual violence against women is frequently held to be less important than the perceived ‘bright futures’ of its perpetrators.

Knowing this, then – knowing that the story was spread, discussed and argued about on social media, along with thousands of other, similar accounts; knowing that, even in this context, some people still freely spoke up in defence of rapists and issued misogynistic threats against their female interlocutors – is it any wonder that, in the absence of consistent legal justice in such cases, the internet tried, and is still trying, to fill the gap? Is it any wonder, when instances of racist police brutality are constantly filmed and posted online, only for the perpetrators to receive no discipline, that we lose patience for anyone who wants to debate the semantics of when, exactly, extrajudicial murder is “acceptable”?

We cannot control the brutality of the world from the safety of our keyboards, but when it exhausts or threatens us, we can at least click a button to mute its seeming adherents. We don’t always have the energy to decry the same person we’ve already argued against a thousand times before, but when a friend unthinkingly puts them back on our timeline for some new reason, we can tell them that person is cancelled and hope they take the hint not to do it again. Never mind that there is far too often no subtlety, no sense of scale or proportion to how the collective, viral internet reacts in each instance, until all outrage is rendered flat and the outside observer could be forgiven for worrying what’s gone wrong with us all, that using a homophobic trope in a TV show is thought to merit the same online response as an actual hate crime. So long as the war is waged with words alone, there’s only a finite number of outcomes that boycotting, blocking, blacklisting, cancelling, complaining and critiquing can achieve, and while some of those outcomes in particular are well worth fighting for, so many words are poured towards so many attempts that it’s easy to feel numbed to the process; or, conversely, easy to think that one response fits all contexts.

I’m tired of cancel culture, just as I was dully tired of everything that preceded it and will doubtless grow tired of everything that comes after it in turn, until our fundamental sense of what the internet is and how it should be managed finally changes. Like it or not, the internet both is and is of the world, and that is too much for any one person to sensibly try and curate at an individual level. Where nothing is moderated for us, everything must be moderated by us; and wherever people form communities, those communities will grow cultures, which will develop rules and customs that spill over into neighbouring communities, both digitally and offline, with mixed and ever-changing results. Cancel culture is particularly tricky in this regard, as the ease with which we block someone online can seldom be replicated offline, which makes it all the more intoxicating a power to wield when possible: we can’t do anything about the awful coworker who rants at us in the breakroom, but by God, we can block every person who reminds us of them on Twitter.

The thing about participating in internet discourse is, it’s like playing Civilisation in real-time, only it’s not a game and the world keeps progressing even when you log off. Things change so fast on the internet – memes, etiquette, slang, dominant opinions – and yet the changes spread so organically and so fast that we frequently adapt without keeping conscious track of when and why they shifted. Social media is like the Hotel California: we can check out any time we like, but we can never meaningfully leave – not when world leaders are still threatening nuclear war on Twitter, or when Facebook is using friendly memes to test facial recognition software, or when corporate accounts are creating multi-staffed humansonas to engage with artists on tumblr, or when YouTube algorithms are accidentally-on-purpose steering kids towards white nationalist propaganda because it makes them more money.

Of course we try and curate our time online into something finite, comprehensible, familiar, safe: the alternative is to embrace the near-infinite, incomprehensible, alien, dangerous gallimaufry of our fractured global mindscape. Of course we want to try and be critical, rational, moral in our convictions and choices; it’s just that we’re also tired and scared and everyone who wants to argue with us about anything can, even if they’re wrong and angry and also our relative, or else a complete stranger, and sometimes you just want to turn off your brain and enjoy a thing without thinking about it, or give yourself some respite, or exercise a tiny bit of autonomy in the only way you can.

It’s human nature to want to be the most amount of right for the least amount of effort, but unthinkingly taking our moral cues from internet culture the same way we’re accustomed to doing in offline contexts doesn’t work: digital culture shifts too fast and too asymmetrically to be relied on moment to moment as anything like a universal touchstone. Either you end up preaching to the choir, or you run a high risk of aggravation, not necessarily due to any fundamental ideological divide, but because your interlocutor is leaning on a different, false-universal jargon overlying alternate 101 and 201 concepts to the ones you’re using, and modern social media platforms – in what is perhaps the greatest irony of all – are uniquely poorly suited to coherent debate.

Purity wars in fandom, arguments about diversity in narrative and whether its proponents have crossed the line from criticism into bullying: these types of arguments are cyclical now, dying out and rekindling with each new wave of discourse. We might not yet be in a position to stop it, but I have some hope that being aware of it can mitigate the worst of the damage, if only because I’m loathe to watch yet another fandom steadily talk itself into hating its own core media for the sake of literal argument.

For all its flaws – and with all its potential – the internet is here to stay. Here’s hoping we figure out how to fix it before its ugliest aspects make us give up on ourselves.

          from shattersnipe: malcontent & rainbows https://ift.tt/2V13Qu4 via IFTTT

[loquaciousquark]

Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E18 (May 15, 2018)

@eponymous-rose​ is out tonight, so here I am instead, tiny-footed in her enormous...shoes? This metaphor’s escaped me.

Preshow is the crew filling a whiteboard with chat-directed drawings. It includes Mollymauk covered in pyramids, Jester’s lollipop, and Caleb on fire. You know, as it happens. Liam smiles very convincingly next to it.

Anyway, tonight’s guests are Liam and Sam, who arrives late and brings his Emmy. This fool.

Tonight’s announcements: new website! Critrole.com. It’ll have updates, news, events, and Sam suggests a daily vlog from BWF. The hardcover version of VM Origins will have its launch date announced this Thursday morning on said website. Liam pulls out a copy of the thing and it looks great. Also, everyone except Liam will be participating in the Stream of Many Eyes livestream in LA June 1-3, which will include multiple live D&D games. More information and tickets here. 

Crit Role Stats! Nott currently has the most kills of the MN with 16. Her HDYWTDT on the hill giant puts her at 5, tied with Molly for the most.

Caleb has cast the most spells of the group with 146. The next closest is Jester with 100. Liam: “It’s that ritual casting, yo.” However, Jester’s cast a larger variety of spells (22 to Caleb’s 20). This doesn’t include the Wand of Smiles (Caleb: 1, Jester: 4).

Sam is still stuck in character creation in Pillars of Eternity. Liam calls BS since he asked how to walk, but Sam reminds him you walk before going into the CC. He’s spent an hour and a half making a Cipher. BWF made Pike, but picked the wrong voice. Liam suggests picking Grog’s voice in his remake. Liam played the opening nine times and eventually had to reinstall the whole thing to unlock the VM portraits. Sam has a traumatic realization that he has the same problem & will have to reinstall as well.

Caleb is strongly regretting entering the Victory Pit due to the exposure it’s gotten them. He didn’t think there would be any bigwigs this far out, but he was “shocked” to find he was mistaken.

Nott isn’t happy with the notoriety either, but she’s conflicted; “she enjoys the supportive glances of her comrades, her teammates, but every once in a while is reminded other people are watching too.” Both agree the afterparty went badly.

Re: the Trent namedrop, Liam: “I can’t believe he’s here, this far out... I didn’t take in a lot of what happened for the next twenty minutes.”

During a discussion of distractions during an episode, Sam talks about how he and Laura were drawing a shared picture last episode whose arms and legs became dicks over the course of the episode.

Nott was surprised to find she was of value to the team during the hill giant fight. She’s still getting used to her abilities, but being so small and taking down something that big was a confidence boost. “She’s super jittery and nervous about everything and she drinks to compensate. I think this is going well for her, helping the team.”

Frumpkin happened post-asylum, so there was no danger of Trent recognizing him. Liam: “He was tapped for school at 15, meets Ikathon at 16 & goes with Astrid & Aeowulf, goes home for the first event with his parents about a year later, burns the house at age 17, and then was in the asylum until age 28. He ran and was totally alone when he got out; the first step was a cat, the second step was a goblin, and the next step was a group.” Sam: “Your guy was institutionalized for over a decade? I should reconsider who I travel with...”

Nott doesn’t necessarily believe Yasha is a spy, but she doesn’t know why she keeps disappearing or what she’s doing. She doesn’t even know what Yasha is, just that she’s super powerful and scary.

GIF of the week: @trisail. It’s the Trent reveal moment with overlays of Caleb shorting out. Heh.

Lengthy discussion about the “leave the table” moment. Liam found the scene super satisfying as it played out and doesn’t regret it. However, it’s a game for his friends first and foremost, and the primary purpose must be to entertain his friends and make them laugh and gasp, and this way robbed them of their reactions. He doesn’t think there would have been an issue with them being at the table--they’re all respectful audience members, and they’ve all been present before at other reveals. Plus, his story is very complicated, so “what am I gonna do? Spill it out all over again for Fjord, for Jester? It just didn’t seem feasible.” Caleb’s story has been in Liam’s head for a long time, so he was glad to get it out. Liam got the most responses on Twitter ever after his first tweet that he’d told his friends to go back and watch.

None of the other cast members aside from Ashley & BWF have watched the Caleb scene yet. Ashley found it pretty crazy and “a lot.”

Liam reminisces about seeing Vex’s heartbreak at Percy’s death and Grog’s privy conversation with the sword, even though he wasn’t part of those scenes, and wishes he hadn’t excluded his friends from his reveal. “I didn’t get a cat o’nine tails out of Taliesin’s closet and flagellate myself, but...a small course correction.”

Caleb’s reveal clarified some things about how Nott views Caleb; neither Sam nor Nott are dumb, and they both knew that he was suffering from something terrible. This just confirmed that & fleshes out the details. Nott’s views of Caleb’s victimhood, and her wishes that he no longer have to suffer, have not changed. 

 Liam points out that the intimacy of the show has changed over time, allowing them to pursue deeper conversations between characters instead of just the wacky hijinks they started with. As an example, he points out the difference between the first Liam/Keyleth scene where people hid behind hats vs. later Percy/Vex scenes where everyone was respectful and quiet. Sam enjoys that they can now have fun-fun (getting out of tricky situations and fighting together) alongside adult-fun (deep conversations and new relationships). BWF points out they’ve spent more time with these characters already than a full 5-season primetime show.

Sam became addicted to playing D&D precisely because of the level of depth you could reach with these characters, which you can’t achieve anywhere else.

In the thirty minutes before the Caleb conversation, Liam was wildly conflicted about what he was going to do (reveal everything, reveal only parts, lie). At the same time, “it’s killing [Caleb] to keep it all bottled up,” and even though Caleb’s really smart, he’s not a mastermind, and it may have still been too soon. However, Liam was also ready to stir the pot--he’s getting antsy that so many backstories haven’t been revealed, even though they’re theoretically a sixth of the way through the show. He also points out that Caleb has achieved his goal of finally getting into the library, so there’s nothing keeping him from leaving at any time. “That’s Caleb talking, not Liam.”

Laura & Travis interrupt to Facetime in & pretend they meant to call BWF’s mom for Mother’s Day. It’s pretty darn funny, and they confirm they totally watch this show from home when they’re not on it. Nerds.

Sam also takes a moment to loudly, angrily remonstrate Laura & Travis for taking pho home to eat. “You do not take pho home to eat. You eat it at the restaurant. It does not travel.” Discussing Sam’s food snobbery, Liam reminisces about how proud he was of some homemade blueberry pancakes he made after his kids were born. He shared a picture of them with Sam, who then sent back a picture of pancakes Sam’s wife made that “looked like something out of a magazine, there were raspberries, and everyone was like OHHHH, OHHHH, and I was alone and tired in my kitchen.” Sam: “I’m the worst person.”

Sam had guessed that Caleb’s backstory had something to do with fire, but had thought maybe he’d accidentally hurt/killed someone. “It’s pretty bad to accidentally hurt someone with fire. It’s super bad to intentionally kill someone with fire who is related to you.”

Caleb has no idea what happened to the other two children. The last thing he remembers before hospitalization was the house. Liam still thinks of Caleb as young since he’s essentially lost eleven years.

Sam asked Liam why he wanted to play someone so dark after Vax instead of someone more lighthearted. Liam’s just attracted to these kinds of stories; “this is what I want to do with my spare time.” He’s fine with other people being jovial instead of him.

Fanart of the Week: This gorgeous thing by Wesley Griffith. Apparently, Travis said this is his favorite representation of Fjord so far.

Nott doesn’t think she can do powerful magic; she’s just excited to be able to do small things. Liam’s dying to know Nott’s backstory: “She’s like a little bag of knives who’s hyperintelligent and drunk.”

Sam pauses to plug a new organization, Nerds Vote, a nonpartisan encouragement to register to vote.

In re: Beau’s reaction to Caleb’s reveal, Liam discusses his other options. He thinks Fjord is very intelligent but an unknown who might be evil. Jester he thinks would be the most likely to be repulsed or run away. Yasha’s her own kind of stranger who always leaves. Molly’s a 24/7 party animal that’s wildly different from Caleb. He feels Beau was the best choice; Beau had something he wanted anyway (and had shared a secret with him) so he didn’t have second thoughts acceding to her request.

Even though Nott has forgiven him, Caleb’s not looking to be forgiven or have anyone pat him on the back. He doesn’t believe “it’s going to be okay or it’s not his fault.” He knows he’s absolutely to blame and there’s a massive degree of self-loathing, so Liam feels Beau was the absolute perfect person to tell since she was going to be dry, pragmatic, and real. “No fluff, all...elbow-corners.” He didn’t want someone to coddle him and she was the perfect person for that.

He recognizes that they’re both Empire kids and share that history. Caleb also has been paying attention to everyone, and he feels Beau is clearly not happy with the Empire regardless of what she says, which aligns with Caleb’s feelings as well. Liam thinks it was a great choice to break it to her first, & he feels it wouldn’t have been fair to exclude Nott if he were to finally spit it out.

Nott’s not concealing anything from anyone about her backstory; it’s just that no one’s asked. Caleb never asked about anyone’s backstory because he didn’t want return questions.

Sam likes Liam’s story choices and calls them brave.

The original idea for Caleb stretches back so far that Liam thought of the name Astrid even before Matt introduced Pike’s cousin, Astrid. When they started discussing character creation for the new campaign, Matt okayed repeating the name. The German accent came much later in character creation (i.e. after the development of backstory). To Liam, Caleb’s backstory reads more like KGB or Pet Murderer over Hitler Youth, since as far as he knows it was only the three children involved, not an army.

Of the choices available to the group, Sam most wants to go back to the Gentleman. Liam wonders if Pumat has skeletons in his closet. (How many closets does Pumat have, I wonder?)

Sam segues into his difficulty remembering the difference between the Soltryce Academy and the Cerberus Assembly since they both have “C-A” sounding names. Liam: “Look, folks, he can either be really funny, or he can know the details.” Sam: “And that’s... where Ikathon is? And then there are the Halls of Erudition? There are too many things!” I have never identified more with him than this moment right here.

I have a brief, violent heart attack when an accidental keypress navigates me away from this page and I think I’ve lost it all. False alarm, please reduce heart rate to under 100bpm.

After Dark: Emmy and a lovely mace for Pike Edition

Liam elucidates the difference between a mace and a morningstar. Sam just about knocks his Emmy off the shelf getting the aforementioned mace for demonstration.

Sam’s asked which 90s Disney Afternoon show his character would like best. Sam: Darkwing Duck, Talespin, Gummy Bears, Fraggle Rock. Liam: Duck Tales.

Does Nott regret saying she’s Caleb’s mother after knowing what he did to his last mom? Sam: “Oh, wow. I didn’t even think about that.” Liam: “How could you not? I’ve been thinking about it for weeks!” Sam: “Well, it’s not like he’s a Terminator-style hunter of only mothers...” Finally--no, it hasn’t crossed Nott’s mind, but Sam will inform her soon.

The ultimate food sin for Sam--transporting pho is pretty high on his list, but he decides on ten-dollar wine. (Two-buck chuck, you know what you’re getting, swillwater flavored like wine; ten-dollar wine is actual wine that is terrible.) He recommends splurging for the fourteen-dollar wine. Sam loves cheap Chinese but Panda Express doesn’t count as Chinese. “No good Chinese restaurant ever advertises, ever.” Salted vs. unsalted butter is also a big thing. This is all because of Sam’s wife, he says; Liam points out that a year after they first met, when Sam moved to LA, Liam went over to Sam & Sam’s wife’s terrible apartment where they made very fancy salmon wrapped in that clear waxy rice paper stuff I can’t remember the expensive name for.

Caleb had very little left offensively in the hill giant fight. All he had was Sleep and Shield and a weak cantrip, so all he could do was gamble and guess on the timing. When he first cast it, Sam told Laura it was a big mistake. 

A viewer question tries to goad Liam & Sam into a tickle fight. Liam threatens BWF with the mace instead. 

Sam agrees to grow a small beard for Liam’s birthday, a little “chin music.”

And that’s all for the night! Is it Thursday yet?

[alwrath]

Fullmetal Alchemist 2003: Homunculus MBTI Types

Spent some long hours matching the ‘03 Homonculi to respective MBTI types, with the help of @afgunst. 

I’ll be comparing tendencies of MBTI types to their personalities’ revealed throughout the 2003 canon! 

Spoiler warning if you haven’t finished the series!

Greed: ESTP

Greed fits stereotype of the risk-taking, fun-loving ESTP to a T. He’s a natural leader who lives in-the-moment, challenges conventions, and seeks life’s pleasures. A type known to be adept at influencing others, people to be naturally drawn to his rebellious spirit.

In the series, Greed is presented to us as the homonculus who dared to defy Dante. While escaping from Lab 5, he forms a band of outcasts who naturally come to respect him. 

However Greed tends to look before he leaps, landing him and his followers in a dire situation.  But he’s adept at thinking on-his-feet – even using his final defeat to encourage Ed to complete the mission that Greed himself couldn’t.

Pride: ENFJ

In his career, Bradley (Pride) exudes natural insight, compassion, and authenticity. ENFJs are natural communicators who are adept at creating comfortable connections with others.

Despite being a leader of a violent military state, he regularly jokes with those below him and attempts to place himself on a personable level. Havoc recounts that the work environment created by Bradley was so harmonious that it led soldiers to forget that they were part of an aggressive military force.

ENFJs are known to be more reserved than most extroverts, often coming off as a bit distant or inaccessible. Due to this, their true intentions often come into question. Bradley’s story in the last ten episodes places this common suspicion at the heart of the series’ plot. What true feelings could he be hiding behind his demeanor?

Wrath: ISFP 

Being in near-constant existential crisis during his screentime, Wrath has been typed by his qualities under stress and may not resemble a “healthy” ISFP. 

As an ISFP, Wrath lives primarily in a world of his personal emotions and values. He is motivated by what he feels is true and important. Once regaining his memories, he seeks revenge on Izumi and the Elrics after deeming their use of alchemy selfish. He is consistently seen taking action according directly to his emotional stance on principals, most of these instances being turning-points in his character development. 

Wrath is also highly attuned to the immediate, sensory world. With both his ability and way of fighting, he incorporates his environment on a whim to his advantage. Even before regaining his memories and powers, he was an astute observer who mimicked the behavior of the Elrics on Yock Island. 

A mix of his strong principals and immediacy of action can lead him to appear contradictory. He wants to use the philosophers stone to bring back Sloth — who he inadvertently killed due to his gut-reactions — and obstructs his own team in the final battle, due to a change of values.

In the epilogue of the series and in the film he is seen alone, “going-with-the-flow”. It seems that outside of his emotional outbursts, he is a quiet person who keeps his thoughts to himself. His seemingly conflicting traits of passionate emotion, awareness of the moment, and flexible attitude align with those of an ISFP.

Sloth: ISFJ (ISTJ wannabe)

Sloth was a difficult character to type, due to (possible?) character shift at the end of her story. In this analysis, we chose that interpret that shift as a reveal of her honest feelings.

Throughout the series, Sloth put on the pragmatic and reserved demeanor known to be common in the ISTJ. Dedicated to her work, she approached all problems in a logical, no-nonsense manor, rarely engaging with the antics of the other homonculi.

But moments before her death she reveals to the Elrics’ that the pain of having the memories of their mother caused her to actively suppress any urges of warmth. This internalization and suppression of emotions is a common weakness among ISFJs.

Like the ISTJ, ISFJs are also known to be pragmatic and reserved, but are most often defined by their unique talent as “guardians”. They direct their detail-oriented and logical talents to the care and safekeeping of others. Though their connections with others form a core of their motivation, they are often quiet, humble, and are slow to open up about themselves. 

Through managing the homonculi, her patience and sense of responsibility for others often leaks through. And despite trying fight against this part of her identity, she made the choice to take on the difficult role of Wrath’s mother. It is their closeness that ultimately leads to her demise. 

Envy: ESFP

Envy is essentially the theatrical, fun-loving ESFP gone horribly wrong (or having lived for 400+ years with an abusive mother and a deep grudge.) 

ESFPs are known for their showmanship and are drawn to excitement. Envy seems to be the most theatrical of the homonculi, turning his battles into performances. He uses his transformation abilities to shock, traumatize, and “wow” those he faces. They are drawn to experiences from which they can derive immediate satisfaction from, and often complain about boring tasks.

ESFPs are also known to place a particularly high importance on aesthetic, which may account for Envy preferring to take on a unique “cute” form in his everyday life. 

They are also known to be a highly sensitive and emotionally tumultuous type if hurt. Envy’s deep-seated feelings of rejection after abandonment by his father fuel a 400-year grudge that fuels his revenge narrative.

Lust: INTP 

Lust is interesting in being a character that is presented as highly feminine, but correlates strongly with an MBTI type that is rarely associated with female characters.

INTPs are highly intuitive types who live primarily in their own worlds of logic. When we see her in the first half of the series, Lust displays common INTP outward traits of straightforwardness and detachment. She completes her tasks fully and with ease — also consistent with the type’s avoidance of failure.

Once we learn more about her, it becomes apparent that (despite being unable to use it) she has an impressively deep knowledge of alchemy. She is the most open in teaching and discussing it, showing her preference for the theoretical.

Due to their ability to spot discrepancies in patterns, they can be highly suspicious of others and appear stand-offish. They dislike rule and authority, especially if doesn’t appear logically sound. Consistent with this, Lust is the first of the current homonculi to rebel against Dante, rightly suspicious of her motives. 

INTPs have been known to go to lengths to avoid deep emotional engagement. As the series progresses, we see her actively averting any opportunity for close connection  — especially if it is reminiscent of her past.

Gluttony: ISFJ

Due to being seemingly developmentally delayed, it was not possible to accurately type Gluttony. However we approximated by reading up on the types’ behaviors as children. ISFJ children are known to be quiet and polite, with a high regard for doing “the right thing.” Outside of his final form, he is relatively quiet and low-key.  Although Gluttony has an endless hunger, he rarely eats someone without asking for permission. In his singular attachment to Lust, he holds her to a high regard and respects her decisions.

For the MBTI nerds out there: these were typed using functions, but I used more general descriptions to make this accessible to multiple levels of MBTI knowledge. If you’re interested more in-depth, function-based analysis of any of these characters, please let me know!