#but anyways when i wanted to unify the island in peace i had no idea that the process for that would get so fucking dark w/ handling tektus

[synthmama]

@glowfelt requested:  quinn and geiger clinking their bottles of nuka cola together as a toast to celebrate ?????? something worth celebrating!

[mellow-elbow]

talk more about tikal in SA3!! i love her and im excited to see her have more concrete importance to stopping chaos! (im a bit fuzzy on the original plot but iirc, she was a magical background force that helped sonic stop chaos? correct me there if im wrong)

👀👀👀

Tikal is the daughter of Chief Pachacamac (I call him Patch for short) of the Knuckles Clan- an Echidna tribe that lived in the mystic ruins 4,000 years ago before they were mysteriously wiped out- the truth would later be uncovered in Sonic Adventure 1 that Tikal’s father took his role as Chief after his mother, the previous Chief, passed away and began his reign of terror. Tikal shows flashbacks to the heroes of Sonic Adventure 1 to give them an idea as to what happened to warn them of the future repeating itself.

If you go through all the flashbacks, there’s a lot of truly despicable stuff. One of the most important scenes/quotes that still sticks with me is this one:

[image ID: Chief Pachacamac, a red Echidna in tribal garb, is ignoring his daughter Tikal- a peach Echidna- as she begs him not to attack. The subtitles of Tikal are “Attacking other countries, stealing and killing....” end /ID]

Other countries. The Knuckles clan was traveling, pillaging, and desecrating. But what were they doing in other countries?

[image ID: the same scene as before, this time Tikal’s subtitles read “No one has the right to take their holy grounds.” end /ID]

Taking their holy grounds. To the Echidna’s, their holy ground is the Master Emerald shrine. My theory is that there are other Master Emerald shrines across the world, possibly one for each Chaos Emerald (this translates well seeing thag in Unleashed there are ‘Gaia’ temples that restore the emeralds, I believe they were originally meant to be shrines.) I believe Pachacamac was sending troops to steal valuable information and even the Chaos Emeralds themselves to gain power.

Part of what always made Tikal so interesting to me was her color scheme. She’s much lighter than any of the other Echidna’s we see and I wanted that to have some sort of significance. So, after MORE research, I ended up giving the Emeralds their own geological shrine for each of the continents introduced in Sonic Unleashed (the game that was made of scraps from the original Sonic Adventure 3 concepts). Angel Island in the United Federation became home to the shrine of the White Chaos Emerald- or the Unity Emerald, as it’s called in my notes.

White is the color of purity, innocence, harmony, and unity- which kind of fit with the continent being named the United Federation in modern day. The emerald was also titled this because of something Tikal says in Tails’ flashback:

[image ID: Tikal is reciting an ancient mantra in front of the main temple in the Mystic Ruins. The subtitles read as follows: “The servers are the seven Chaos.” “Chaos is power... Power enriched by the heart.” “The controller is the one that unifies that Chaos.” end /ID]

“The controller is the one that unifies that Chaos.” This mantra was passed down to Tikal in secret for whatever reason, as there’s no mention of Pachacamac knowing it. So why was it so important for Tikal to never forget it?

[image ID: concept art by mellow-elbow featuring Tikal in a super-form with a white aura striking a powerful pose with a look of determination. There is a bright light emanating from where her corneas should be. End /ID]

She was a Guardian.

In my Sonic Adventure 3 pitch, Guardians aren’t only limited to Echidna’s- there were once Guardians for each geological shrine. Where’d that idea come from? Well, you may have seen this image once or twice:

[image ID: the mural from the Knuckles boss fight at Hidden Palace Zone in Sonic 3 & Knuckles; the mural depicts a large entity in possession of a green emerald that may represent the Master Emerald. To the right of the mural is a blue figure surrounded by a yellow aura. There are 6 similar aura’s without figures behind the large entity. end /ID]

Everyone is always so focused on the blue figure surrounded by the yellow aura and scream and shout “Super Sonic! That’s Super Sonic!”... but everyone always seems to ignore the six other auras coming from behind the giant boss. To me, this mural depicts a spiky blue entity in a super form distracting the antagonist while 6 other super-formed individuals attack and defeat it.

My story goes that Pachacamac knew Tikal was a Guardian and wanted to use her powers to aid him in his warmongering ways. Before Pachacamac’s mother passed, she was hellbent on drilling peace and unity into Tikal to ensure it would never happen. Her efforts were fruitless, however, as Pachacamac began his reign of terror without Tikal and still succeeded.

When the time had come and he was ready to take the powers of the Chaos Emeralds for himself, Tikal stood in his way and begged him to leave the place be. Her cries fell on deaf ears, as Pachacamac ordered his men to stampede through Tikal and a herd of Chao- upsetting Chaos who used the negative energy to become Perfect Chaos and decimate a good portion of the Knuckles clan.

We don’t see exactly how Tikal stopped Chaos, we just know that she somehow sealed her spirit inside the master emerald with them. I wanted to introduce the powers of the Unity Emerald in SA3 and how she stopped Chaos, as it would be important info that would help the new Guardians defeat the main antagonist.

Tikal’s spirit would make a return in SA3 where she would help locate the new Guardian of Unity and teach the new Guardians how to defeat their enemy by showing how she defeated Chaos.

Anyways SEGA please hire me to make Sonic Adventure 3 😔🤲🏻💙

[darealpatyu]

The Kingmaker Review: A Story of How One Family Screws the Philippines

Without a doubt, The Kingmaker is one of the best documentary films that I’ve seen in a while. I don’t know if that’s because it’s about a social issue that continues to haunt the Filipino people, or because the Marcoses are such a rare display of narcissism and greed that you can’t help but be astounded by the sheer incredulity of it all. The Marcoses are like the Filipino Kardashians, and it was both a treat and a pain to watch the whole circus of their lives unfold.

Could a Filipino filmmaker have made a documentary like this?

I would say that a Filipino couldn’t have created a documentary with this level of bluntness and sarcasm. Filipinos are more than capable of being sarcastic and artistic at the same time, but as a citizen living in this country, you can’t release a film as critical of current politicians as The Kingmaker was and not suffer consequences. You’d probably wake up dead if you did. Also, I think that the Marcoses wouldn’t have allowed a Filipino team to interview them and ask them about their regime because they already know that they have a band of haters in the country, and only haters want to find out more about that period in life. The Marcoses don’t openly acknowledge the haters, so I highly doubt they would’ve agreed to a personal interview like that. A foreigner conducting the interview, on the other hand, is a different story. The Marcoses love attention. If there’s anything they love more than money, it’s international acclaim. Interestingly enough, studies show that a telling sign of psychopathic tendency is their propensity to crave attention. I’m not directly saying that the Marcoses are psychopaths, but I’m sure you can piece two and two together. Anyways, Lauren Greenfield is an internationally recognized filmmaker, so you can imagine Imelda’s excitement when she found that she was to be her next subject. In the film, one of Imelda’s first lines is literally, “I miss the clout of being the first lady.” She misses the clout, everyone! Who even says that? Getting back to the point, I’m certain that the Marcoses and other prominent people agreed to be interviewed because they thought that they would be having a beautiful historical film about them – which is exactly what they got, in all fairness. Not only was this interview done for the clout, but it was probably also done because they knew that this documentary wouldn’t harm them in any way. They’ve already successfully revised history in the Philippines – they have a steadfast Marcos loyalist base that is only getting bigger. They literally have nothing to lose by taking part in this documentary. Think like Imelda – “I lose nothing, AND become relevant in the international sphere once again; I’ve gotta do it!!”

How were Imelda Marcos’ answers as the film progressed?

As the film progressed, Imelda was trying to portray herself as the victim of everything that had happened. She was trying to turn the experiences of all those innocent people who had suffered into her experience of suffering. I really lost my cool when she talked about how she was the mother of the Philippines and how she had been wrongly stripped away from her child. She would constantly try to victimize herself, probably because she realized that the interviewer’s questions were meant to attack her character, and not to give her the positive clout that she was expecting. When Imelda’s words of care for the country is contrasted with the reality of what happened in Calauit Island, it’s clear that she’s delusional. The historical information presented in the film was meant to be an antithesis to every word that came out of Imelda’s mouth because that’s the best way to expose a liar. You hear her saying she brought the beauty of exotic animals to the Filipino people, and then you see that she displaced over 200 families. You hear her feeling sad about the impoverished state of the country, and then you see her boasting extremely expensive paintings and giving out thousand-peso bills from plundered wealth. You hear her pride about the peace that Martial Law brought, and then you see the blatant disregard for human rights that occurred as accounted for by the Martial Law victims themselves. This presentation of historical truths, presented side-by-side with the proud lies of Imelda, was flawlessly executed. I could clearly deduce how far from the truth Imelda’s words were, and I’m certain that everyone who watched it experienced the same.

Thoughts on Sandro Marcos?

Talking about Sandro Marcos and his future role in Philippine politics, I do think that he has intentions to have a career in politics. I saw this 2017 article writing that Sandro had earned a Master’s degree in Development Studies from the London School of Economics. Given that his family has a solid reputation for lying about their academic credentials, I don’t think it would come as a surprise if he were lying too. Because the Marcoses heavily publicize Sandro’s achievements, I really think that they’re planning to make him continue the Marcos legacy of screwing our country as well. In the film, there was this part where in front of a crowd, Bongbong was telling Sandro that he’s ready to become a politician already – even though Sandro was only 21 years old at the time. This kind of mental conditioning – that you’re entitled to a successful political career even though you’ve achieved absolutely nothing and don’t have the passion for service – is the kind of conditioning that creates dictators at worst, and at best, corrupt political dynasties. When you have parents that constantly push you into thinking that your destiny is to dominate Philippine politics, you end up thinking that you’re entitled to it – willing to do anything to get what you want to make your parents and yourself proud. As a young adult, your entire self-worth becomes grounded on whether you become a successful politician or not. I assume Sandro’s conditioning to become a politician is the type of parenting that Bongbong was raised with, and look at how great he turned out, right?

My Three Takeaways on Leadership and Diplomatic Relations

The three takeaways about leadership and diplomatic relations that I got from the film are: 1) you need to be open to honest feedback to be a good leader, 2) just because you personally think a certain plan of action is going to be good for the group doesn’t mean that it’s good for the group, and 3) be critical of yourself and listen to your own words before and after speaking. My first learning was inspired by Imelda Marcos and her inability to acknowledge her haters. She seems like the kind of woman who listens to no one but herself. She hasn’t had any character development after all these years, and in the film, when she showed the picture frame of her acquittal from thousands of crimes, she had the audacity to say “the truth always wins” or something to that effect. She’s not open to feedback at all. My second learning was inspired by when Imelda brought all those animals to Calauit Island. She thought it would bring beauty to the Philippines when it actually had the opposite effect. My third takeaway is inspired by the fact that Imelda thinks she solved the Cold War. Leaders really need to listen to their own words and analyze their statements to understand if what they’re saying is factual and makes sense. If I were to compound all my takeaways into one unified idea, my one great learning would be: A great leader does not do anything that a Marcos would do.

What historical facts did I uncover through the film?

During the film, there were a lot of significant historical facts that I didn’t know about; these facts should really be taught in school. The historical facts that I was not aware of were: 1) exotic animals were brought to Calauit Island, 2) Ferdinand Marcos had affairs with other women, and 3) the reason why Imelda was the chosen diplomat was that the Marcoses were anticipating a coup d’etat. Also, I don’t know if this historical fact is verified but it shocked me when Imelda said that she checked into a psychiatric hospital before her husband became president. Is that true? I’m sure you can understand why I’m a bit wary of Imelda’s stories.

The Big Conclusion

To conclude this lengthy blog entry, I think that the greatest lesson to be learned from this film is that leaders are here to serve us, and not the other way around. They are not gods – they are fallible and must be held accountable for their mistakes. If we fear our leaders, follow them blindly, and make excuses for their incompetence, we encourage a culture of fascism, fanaticism, and corruption. Sadly, a parallel reality of the Marcos regime is happening today. If a dictator will not take advantage of the current political climate now, one will eventually find a way soon. That’s why this film should be making waves and reaching the masses. If only more of us knew about what is happening in the political landscape, we’d take the problematic status quo seriously. This documentary deserves to be acknowledged as educational material for the sole reason that history is being rewritten as we speak, and it is the duty of those who know the truth to let everybody know as well. There are so many material facts that remain unknown and hidden from the public, and it’s ridiculous that people don’t know about them. People need to know because we might just make the same mistake again, and that’s sad.

In conclusion, MARCOS IS NOT A HERO. THE FACT THAT THERE’S A MARCOS LOYALIST BASE IMPARTS A SENSE OF URGENCY TO THOSE WHO KNOW THE TRUTH. HISTORY MIGHT REPEAT ITSELF.

We really don’t want to see what happens if it does. #NeverAgain

[asterinjapan]

Peach cental

Good evening from the city of peaches!

Today was a travel day, but it was the least cumbersome of all my travel days, so I still had time to Do Stuff. So I’ve been busy, and I’m definitely going to bed early considering I have already reserved a train ticket for tomorrow at 8:30, haha.

So, from Fukuoka to Okayama! Here we go. As it turns out this entry got long, so apologies in advance...

I got up early to have breakfast in peace, had a very quick check-out, and proceeded to make my way to the station. I think this might be the first day my legs are legitimately protesting, and that’s mostly because I had to drag my suitcase with me. Thankfully, my hotel is pretty close to the station, and the entrance for the shinkansen trains is nearby as well. Of course, I was way too early, so I watched the Nozomi (the fastest of the shinkansen, which I can’t use with m JR pass) come and go before my train showed up, the Sakura.

It was a little under two hours to Okayama, passing Hiroshima and Fukuyama on the way. Fukuyama castle is a literal stone’s throw from the station, but I noticed the main tower was partially covered, so I’m glad I went to see that one last year already!

After a smooth trip, I arrived at Okayama station and all but went deaf upon exiting, because there were all kinds of events going on. Today is a national holiday (Health and Sports day I think), so I guess that had something to do with it. Also, it’s hot! I was already regretting my warm pants, but what can you do.

I’m staying in the same hotel as last year, which is very easily found from the station anyway, so that was only a quick trip. In the lobby, I took out the necessities for my ‘daily backpack’ and then asked if I could leave the rest of my luggage here, as I was too early for check-in. Thankfully I could, haha, because I had Plans that would be significantly troublesome if I had to drag my suitcase with me.

So, out of the hotel I went, following the Momotarou street down to Okayama castle! Okay, two things: Momotarou is everywhere here. He’s a character from a folk tale, in which an elderly couple found a giant peach in the river and upon cutting it open, a boy jumped out. They raised the boy as their own and he ended up becoming a hero, as he teamed up with a dog, pheasant and a monkey and went on to defeat ogres. His name is Momotarou, which basically means ‘peach boy’. The story is more or less set in the region – there’s a prince called Kibitsuhiko whose story might have inspired Momotarou, and the shrines dedicated to him can be found in Okayama. I talked about this for a bit last year too, when I stayed in Okayama for the first time. Anyway, this has a predictable result: peaches and Momotarou everywhere. So down from Peach boy Road, onto the castle!

I visited the castle last year with my friend, but there was a little something we didn’t get to do, so I was taking this chance to rectify that.

Upon arrival however, it turned out there was a festival of some kind going on. Fun atmosphere, but it did mean it was pretty busy, hmm.

Into the castle I went anyway! They want you to start the tour on the top floor, so I meekly followed that advice and made my way down. The Thing I wanted to do would start again at 1 PM, so I took my time exploring the different floors and reading the Japanese signage (not a lot was translated except for titles, but I found the general guide boards pretty easy to follow). There was also a special exhibition with works by Masago Kimiya, who has an affinity for drawing historical figures from the Three Kingdoms and Warring States eras. I had no idea what to expect, but these works were beautiful! They look more like glamorous photos than the stylized portraits from back then, and to top it off, the hall told the story of Ukita Hideie, who completed the castle after taking over from his father. He was a big name, actually. (History lesson to follow!)

The little states making up Japan until 1600 were at constant war with each other, called the Sengoku (Warring States) era. Attempts to unify the country were made by Oda Nobunaga and then Toyotomi Hideyoshi. Hideie sided with them and ended up being one of Hideyoshi’s five counselors, along with a guy called Tokugawa Ieyasu. Yeah, there he is again, That One Guy. Anyway, after Hideyoshi was assassinated, Ieyasu took control and two camps emerged: the one on Ieyasu’s side, and the loyalists to Toyotomi, including Hideie. At the decisive battle of Sekigahara in 1600, Ieyasu’s side won, unified Japan, and Hideie was to be punished. He fled to what is now Kagoshima until he was eventually betrayed and exiled to the island of Hachijojima, Tokyo, where he lived out his life until his 80s (!). His wife, princess Gou, stayed loyal to him and kept sending him support (like food, since rice barely grew on the island) until she passed away.

Later the castle went to the Ikeda clan, and it was being maintained until the Meiji Restauration in 1869. The Meiji government wanted to break with the samurai era and actually tore down a lot of castles, although it left Okayama castle alone, filling the outer moats and leaving the rest as it is. In 1945, bombers destroyed the castle as yet with the exception of the Tsukimi Yagura (watch tower for moon watching), and so the current reconstruction is from the 1960s. The lion-fish on top are gilded now, but in the old days, the main keep had gilded roof tiles too. It was thus also known as the Golden Crow castle, since the exterior is mostly black.

Whew, so far for a lot of history, haha. Can you tell I really like this castle? I definitely do. So much so that I read up on it, haha, although the exhibition hall was also very informative and had information in English.

On the second floor, there were some photo spots and the Thing I wanted to do: dressing up as a feudal era princess! Okay, look, the kimono on display is really pretty and the dress up is free, come on, I’m not gonna pass up on that opportunity. I had to hang around here for quite a while, as I was about an hour early, but once it was time, I was first in line! And wow, they’re not playing cheap here even though this is free. I got dressed up in a fancy kimono, got to pose all over the special room, got a wig on, got dressed up in another fancy kimono, and overall really got to make the most out of this experience. I checked my camera; there are literally a hundred pictures on there! One hundred! Wow.

So that was a really fun activity and I’m really glad I came back for it. I got a castle parfait at the café (with peach, of course, I was surprised they even offered strawberry as a different choice), and then went back outside again. I think the festival had a stage for a Momotarou something or another, geesh…

I made my way back to the station, foregoing checking into my hotel as I had another destination in mind: nearby Kurashiki!

You might remember last year’s floodings which hit Japan hard. Kurashiki was one of the cities hit, and so we didn’t end up visiting despite how close it is. So now for a second attempt, I took the local train bound for Kurashiki, which took like fifteen minutes. Told you it was close, haha.

Kurashiki is mostly known for its Bikan historical area, which is the old merchant quarter from back when the city became a river port and was so important it was placed under direct control of the shogunate. Many of the buildings are 17th century style wooden warehouses, now filled with restaurants and shops for the most part. There are also some curious museums nearby. (There was also a little shop with a board outside for figure skater Daisuke Takahashi, and that’s how I found out that both he and Keiji Tanaka hail from Kurashiki, haha. The more you know!)

I mostly went for the views, which were definitely a treat once I found the Bikan historical area: the description ‘Venice of Japan’ is surprisingly apt. There are tourist boats going through the canal area and they’re beautifully framed by the willows here. It’s also apparently a very popular backdrop for cosplayers, since I saw a TON of people dressed up as their favourite characters and posing for pictures here, haha. Guess that’s what I get for going on a holiday. It was fun to see though!

Nearby was Ivy Square, also aptly named as it contains buildings overgrown with ivy. It was the area where the first modern cotton mill of Japan was built, and the company from back then is actually still active.

I only wandered around here for a short bit though, and then found one of the little museums I mentioned. I hopped into the Momotarou Karakuri museum! Yep, peach boy strikes again. Karakuri apparently refers to a type of doll, which I did indeed see here, but the museum itself as a strange mix between optical illusions and a museum of Momotarou memorabilia. Not the first combination I would have thought of myself, but the staff was enthusiastic and led me through the illusions (all Momotarou/peach themed of course), encouraging me to try them out and taking a picture with my head through a giant peach, so now I can pretend I’m Momotarou myself, haha. Granted, the illusions weren’t super new, but they were very open about that (‘trick first invented 150 years ago’ listed), and it was still fun going through them. Next was a delightfully trippy little maze full of ghosts and ogres, since Momotarou had gone on a quest to defeat the ogres after all. I got better scares out of this one than out of the self-proclaimed haunted house in Huis ten Bosch, Sasebo some years ago, haha.

I was then led upstairs, which was very interesting as this was the museum part, showcasing all knids of Momotarou goods dating back hundreds of years in some cases. There was also a little English book with the story on display, and apparently they made a Mickey Mouse set at one point with Donald, Goofy, and Chip and Dale as the animal companions, haha.

This was a nice little break. Parts of it were definitely aimed at kids, but that didn’t make it any less fun.

 I had another museum planned, but I was getting rather tired, so after a quick round on Ivy Square, I walked back to the station. This time just taking the main road, because I had tried to take the shopping street route on my way here, but I somehow managed to – uh, mess up on going right ahead and had to google Maps my way out, oops. So the walk back to the station was significantly shorter, ahem.

After a matcha latte at the station, I went back to Okayama and decided to reserve some tickets for trains. Of course I had to secure my one-way trip to Tokyo, as that one will take about 4 hours, yikes. I should arrive at Shinagawa station around 12:30 now, plus half an hour added to get to Ikebukuro, so at least that’s not the entire day wasted on trains, haha. Although the shinkansen are super nice. There’s enough space for me to put my luggage in front of me, although it can get a little cramped for hours on end.

And then my second ticket: tomorrow, to Matsuyama! This is also quite the trip, over 2.5 hours, but it’s just one train, so I can hop on, doze off, and hop out at the terminal station, haha. I wanted to visit Matsuyama last year, but due to the same floodings, it was impossible at the time. And so I wasn’t going to wait much longer and made it my first daytrip from Okayama this time.

Anyway, after checking in to my hotel, I went back to the station for dinner, lamented the fact that one of my favourite restaurants from last year was closed for renovations along with a big part of the food court, found a different restaurant, and promptly ordered their super cute Halloween plate, haha. And now I’m back at the hotel for tonight!

 I suspect my report and photos will be up a little late tomorrow, ahem. Have a good evening, see you!

[ciathyzareposts]

The Black Gate: A Microcosm

Pride goeth before the fall.

                      Lord British wasn’t quite as bad as I suggested in the last entry, although I might have expected a warmer greeting (and an explanation) from someone I haven’t seen in 200 years. It occurs to me that Lord British and the Avatar aren’t really “friends,” as such, and come to think of it, he probably would prefer that I weren’t there. I mean, let’s look at the evidence. First–and this blew my mind when I realized it–Lord British has never actually summoned the Avatar to Britannia. When the Avatar comes in Ultima IV, it’s because moonstones and lore books were scattered throughout the multiverse in hopes that someone who could become the Avatar would find one. Lord British didn’t know that the person who became the Avatar, specifically, would find it.

      Dupre, Iolo, and Shamino were responsible for the Avatar’s arrival in Ultima V, and they weren’t acting on Lord British’s orders because he’d been kidnapped. The gargoyles summoned the Avatar in Ultima VI to kill him. It’s not clear who opened the moongate in this game except that Lord British specifically denies doing it. Note, too, how quickly Lord British sends the Avatar back to Earth after each game. There’s absolutely no denouement–the Avatar gets shoved through a portal the very moment he completes the main quest.

     The reason becomes clear when you think about it: The Avatar is a threat to Lord British’s own power. The Avatar is a spiritual figure who enjoys almost universal love, admiration, and recognition. He’s shown himself wise and courageous enough to save Britannia from destruction several times over. He’s built and re-built himself from Level 1 to Level 8 half a dozen times. He’s mastered the arts of war and magic. He knows everyone important in the kingdom. And by Lord British’s own standards, the Avatar the only person virtuous enough to bear his title. Would you want him around if you were a monarch? 

         The conversation starts out well.

        But he’s not dumb enough to recognize the Avatar’s utility, and he’s aware that a few things are clearly wrong. The most obvious concerns magic. It’s been going wonky lately. Spells don’t work. Mages, including his long advisor Nystul and Rudyom in Cove, are going insane. Rudyom had been studying something called “blackrock.”

Almost immediately, he wants to know if I brought my Orb of the Moons. I thought the backstory had me grabbing it, but it’s not in my possession, so I say no. This concerns Lord British. He worries that I’ll be trapped in Britannia. He gives me his Orb so I won’t have to stay, suggesting that it might work better for me because I’m freshly arrived.

           “Feel free to try it right now.”

          As we saw last time, Lord British is a bit naive about the Fellowship and Batlin, but he is aware that something is going on. In addition to the trouble with magic and the ominous rumbling, he says, “there is something wrong in Britannia.” He’s not sure exactly what, but: “Something is hanging over the heads of the Britannian people. They are unhappy. One can see it in their eyes. There is nothing that is unifying the population, since there has been peace for so long.” He wants me to go hang out with them and see what I can find out.     He is horrified to hear about the murder in Trinsic. He remembers a similar one from four years ago in Britain, and he suggests I talk with the mayor, Patterson, about it.               

I ask him about the earthquake, and he’s 100% up-to-speed on that. He says that for some reason, the Isle of Fire where I defeated Exodus has recently risen from the ocean. He warns me to watch out for the remains of Exodus and to make use of the shrines of virtue that I might find there. “Shrines of virtue?” I reply, confused. Yes, he says. In addition to the shrines to each individual virtue that I visited repeatedly in Ultimas IV through VI, Lord British also had built three shrines to the three principles of virtue: truth, love, and courage. These were on the Isle of Fire when it sank.           

You lose more credibility with every word you speak.

                I’m not sure how much I buy this little retcon, which not only suggests that Lord British conceived of the Quest of the Avatar before Sosaria became Britannia, but that first three shrines he had built were coincidentally unneeded during the actual quest. He goes on to say that the shrines are “meant for the use of an Avatar only,” so not only had he planned the quest before building any of the other shrines, he was so sure that it would succeed that the first three he built presumed the quest would be completed. Uh-huh. Anyway, he gave me a deed to a shop, docked near Vesper (Vesper’s back!) if I wanted to visit the island.      Beyond that, we make a little small talk. The castle has been renovated. He likes it but is annoyed by the nursery, which the Great Council talked him into implementing for his staff. (I’m 100% sure this reflects something happening at ORIGIN at the same time.) He’s kept my stuff, including a spellbook, in a chest for 200 years; I’ll find it in the west side of the castle; the key is in Lord British’s study.           

Indeed.

                  A couple of entries ago, in relation to Trinsic, I noted that the increased realism of the simulation and graphics made it increasingly hard to regard the small number of buildings and people in the city as a representative sample, leading us to the uncomfortable conclusion that a major city houses only 10 people. Ultima VII, like the Elder Scrolls games but unlike, say, Baldur’s Gate, has chosen not to fill the streets with generic NPCs or provide matte backgrounds suggesting untold miles of city blocks beyond the few that we can walk and experience for ourselves. Nonetheless, many of you argued that we should still regard the few buildings we see and the few NPCs we meet as a small representative sample of a much bigger world. While I have logical problems with this, I noted more and more signs of the truth of this view as I explored the tiny Castle Britannia.             

A) It’s kind of weird to denigrate your own sister as “prudish.” B) You’re so very, very wrong.

          The fortress is a single story, except for a roof with four corner rooms. The main floor has a courtyard in the middle with Lord British’s throne room north of the courtyard. When he’s on the throne, it’s just him and four guards–no advisors or courtiers or anything. The guards are all generically named “guard” (an exception with the “no generic NPC” rule), and they all call me an idiot for asking about their jobs.              

The Avatar’s eye twitches. His hand floats towards the hilt of his sword . . .

           Moving clockwise around the castle from Lord British’s throne room, we first come to the dining room and kitchen. A woman named Boots (it’s been her nickname since she was a child) runs the kitchen and cooks for the entire castle. She turns out to be the matriarch of a family that is all in service to Lord British. Boots’s husband, Benny, is the head butler. Her son, Charles, is a servant in love with a bartender at the Blue Boar named Jeannette. Her daughter, Nell, is a chambermaid. More on Nell in a minute. Anyway, Boots tells me that her husband is going absent-minded and forgot to order a bunch of mutton from Paws; if I go there and pick it up, she’ll pay me 3 gold pieces per loin or chop or whatever mutton is divided by. Surely there’s some kid who could do this?             I guess being the Avatar doesn’t qualify me to eat whatever I want from the kitchen, because the first time I grabbed a piece of bread, every NPC in the area screamed bloody murder and the guards came running.           

Great. Lord British’s own guards are open to bribery.

                  Lord British’s hated nursery comes next. It’s run by an old woman named Nanna. While she loves her job, she complains about the class system in Britannia and the crushing level of taxes imposed by the Britannian Tax Council. (I’m not sure that we ever meet these people, which is more evidence for the idea that the NPCs we do meet are just supposed to be a representative sample. Clearly, the Tax Council exists somewhere). Nanna has recently joined the Fellowship.          

Oh, right. Somehow Sherry the Mouse is still alive, too. I don’t believe any explanation for the ability of the mouse to talk is ever given, let alone its longevity.

            Nanna’s charges are three toddlers, and the weird thing is that only one of them is a child of an employee. What Nanna is really running is an orphanage. Max is the son of Miranda, who serves on the Great Council. A toddler named Kristy was found in an abandoned building in Paws. (The fact that there are no abandoned buildings in Paws is a perhaps evidence for the idea that the buildings we see are just supposed to be a representative sample.) Nicholas, the youngest, was left at the castle gates one night. He can’t even really speak. Sometimes, the kids are sleeping in cradles, which you can rock by double-clicking on them.           

If this was a modern console game, getting them to rock all at once would probably be an “achievement.”

           It’s a point of amusement that the Avatar’s script–NAME, JOB, BYE–never wavers even when he’s talking with children, who are particularly confused about the idea of a “job.” This is particularly funny for me because ever since I read this XKCD comic, my default reaction to being presented with a friend’s new baby is, “I hope it does a good job.”          

The Avatar’s dialogue options don’t change even when the subject is pre-verbal.

             We learn that Nicholas’s “job” is to try not to wet his diaper. At this, he has apparently recently failed, and the Avatar has the opportunity–this is not only a “first” in CRPG history but likely an “only”–to replace it with a fresh one by double-clicking on the clean diaper and then double-clicking on Nicholas. You want to get this right because there’s also a dirty diaper in the room, and if the Avatar uses that one, Nicholas’s vocabulary develops real quick.          

“Nurture” wins the old “Nature/Nurture” debate.

               While we’re on the subject of diapers, Spark complains at one point about the smell of them. You wouldn’t think three children, two of them almost too old for diapers, would produce enough to really ruin a room, particularly in an age that didn’t otherwise have actual toilets. Here again is some evidence that we’re supposed to imagine more children, perhaps even more staff members, in this area.

Continuing on, we pass a servant’s bedroom on the way to the Royal Council Chamber, which has only three seats despite having at least five members. I say this because the one member present, Miranda, mentions that she’s one of three women on the Council, and the gargoyle in the chamber, Inwisloklem (doesn’t that would like it would be an Ultima V spell? IN WIS LO KLEM!), says he’s one of two gargoyles. Miranda suggests that three women is in fact a small minority. I’m not sure we ever get an actual number of people on the Great Council, but let’s assume it’s at least 12. This provides us quantifiable evidence that the real size of the world, its buildings, and its people is supposed to be about four times what we actually see.              

Miranda will learn that such things must be possible for any free speech to be possible.

         My friend Corey, who is black, once told me that the true test of whether a white man is free of racism and prejudice is not whether he has black friends or whether he generally gets along with black people, but how he feels when he finds out that a black man is dating his sister. (“Daughter” also works well.) The CRPG version of this, for me, was finding a couple of gargoyles occupying prominent positions in Lord British’s castle. I confess I actually had a bit of a reaction to it when I first played this game back in the 1990s. I mean, it’s one thing to not want to see them victims of genocide, but to put them on the Council? What was Lord British thinking? That sort of thing. Naturally, I was expecting it this time, but I thought it was still an amusing example of art reflecting life.     Anyway, Inwisloklem reports that there’s a lot of tension between Britannians and the gargoyles, starting with the relatively inhospitable island, Terfin (which one had Lord Blackthorn’s palace), that they were given to settle. He’s considering joining the Fellowship, apparently unaware of their involvement with the Britannian Purity League. A second gargoyle named Wislem is lurking around the castle, claiming to be Lord British’s advisor. He reports that Lord Draxinusom is still alive, and he suggests that I visit him to report on the death of Inamo. Draxinusom will know if he has family.             

You would have thought 200 years was enough.

            Miranda, who’s something of a feminist, wants to see more women in government positions and would like to ban fantasy depictions of women in revealing armor. At the time, they’re working on a bill to outlaw the pollution of Lock Lake, and Miranda wants me to take a copy to Lord Heather, Cove’s mayor, for his signature.     Continuing onward, we find the quarters of Lord British’s personal bodyguard, Geoffrey, who despite his title spends all of his time training in his quarters. The quarters are notably spartan; Geoffrey appears to sleep on a bare mattress. I’ve always found Geoffrey to be the least interesting and most useless of my old Ultima IV companions–enough so that I generally play a fighter in that game so I don’t even get him in the party. He has nothing important to say here.          

For your sake, I’m going to forget you said that.

                Chuckles stands in the entry hall to the castle at the far south. Chuckles is perhaps the worst NPC in RPG history–and yes, I’m including the Adoring Fan. The classic jester character in fantasy–think Wit from Brandon Sanderson’s The Stormlight Archive or Robin Hobb’s Fool–is funny and witty but also somewhat deep and tragic. He has wisdom when it’s called for. Chuckles has none of that. He’s just a jackass. His jokes aren’t even funny. And you know what? Lord British doesn’t even seem to like him. I’m not even sure he really works for Lord British. He’s never in the throne room. He’s always hanging around the entryway to the castle, as if he’s some Britannian version of Mister Myxlplyx, and Lord British found it easier to just ignore him than deal with him. I mean, he’s been keeping up his shtick for 200 years now. What kind of sociopath does that?   Here, he wants to play The Game. It takes a few attempts at dialogue to understand what The Game is. I didn’t remember it from last time, but I picked it up fairly quickly: It’s to speak only in single syllables. A few lines of inane dialogue later, and I had a CLUE to consult the fortune-teller in Minoc. I’m sure the CLUE will turn out to be something about saving the gargoyles in Ultima VI (I don’t actually remember), so I’m not going to hustle off to Minoc real soon.           

Why couldn’t the first option have used “kill”?

         The west side of the castle goes quickly. Nystul’s quarters are next, followed by a random servant’s quarters, Lord British’s study, and two more servants’ quarters. Nystul has gone senile from whatever is happening to magic, but he still sells spells and reagents. There isn’t otherwise much to say about these rooms except for the books. This entry is already getting so long that I’m going to offer some book commentary as a separate bonus posting.

I’ll also note here that the Avatar can sleep in any of the beds, even Lord British’s, as long as he beats the true occupants to them. Another party member asks what time he wants to be awakened, and the Avatar specifies a time between 0 and 12 hours. I have no idea where the other party members go during this period, only that they’re back when it’s time to get up, and almost certainly they’re complaining about hunger. They’re really just like my cats in that regard. As I sleep the first night in the castle, the Guardian’s voice taunts me: “Yes, my friend, rest and heal, so you are strong and able to face the perils before you. Pleasant dreams.” It’s amazing how well the voice actor is able to turn such pleasant words into menacing threats.

In the northwest part of the castle, we have Lord British’s quarters. I note first of all that his “king” bed is just two double beds pushed together. It’s surrounded by bedcurtains that can be double-clicked to open and close. I’m slightly disappointed that the mirrors don’t reflect anything. (Even in 2020, have we seen any games with realistic mirror behavior?) You can also double-click the candles on his end tables to light them. How were 50 more games not created with this engine!?!

An astute explorer has noted a ring of servants’ corridors or guards’ corridors surrounding all of the rooms to the castle. Lord British’s changing room is the only place that offers access from this side, via a partly-hidden lever in the north. In general, secret doors in Ultima VII are denoted with barely-visible square stones in the middle of the wall textures. Sometimes, you can just double-click on them to open them, but other times they require a switch or lever. Here, almost every room in the castle has them, but they require a lever on the other side. This would make me uncomfortable, frankly, if I had one of these bedrooms.             

The arrow points to the lever. The wall to the northwest has one of the “secret door” symbols.

            Once you have access to the outer ring of walls, you can go up a flight of stairs to the castle roof. There, you can access a pair of cannons pointed down the drawbridge, although to no real purpose. I violated my “no theft” rule only once this session by “pocketing” one of the barrels of gunpowder next to one of the cannons; they’re just too damned useful to ignore. Incidentally, you mistake regular barrels for gunpowder barrels–which light and explode in response to double-clicks–exactly once.      Each of the four turrets has a corner room at the top. In the northwest room, I find the gear that Lord British was talking about: A shield, a bedroll (allowing me to sleep almost anywhere), a two-handed sword, some gold, some magic boots, some food, and my old spellbook It comes with a full set of Level 0 spells–basic cantrips like “Awaken,” “Weather,” “Douse,” and “Ignite”–and a few other scattered spells from the first through the third level: “Cure,” “Light,” “Fire Blast,” and “Heal.”           

The Avatar claims his spellbook.

         The northeast room has some armor, but I can’t figure out how to open the secret door to get in there. The southeast room is an empty jail cell. The southwest room holds Weston, husband of Alina, who I met back at the homeless shelter in Paws. Weston confirms that he stole apples from the Royal Orchid after the overseer, Figg, quoted an absurd rate. (He also reported that Figg has been giving free apples to the Fellowship.) Weston offers no excuse for his “crime” other than the poverty inflicted by an unjust class system. Every one of his lines is mocked by a nearby guard whose entire job must be to stand outside this one cell, because he continues doing it after Weston is freed. The guard is a satire of the modern cable-news-watching, talk-radio-listening observer whose political views are entirely devoid of nuance. Right and wrong are defined by rigid adherence to the law and those in power. Any attempt to excuse or mitigate crime is saying, “Boo-hoo; it’s society’s fault.” His father was poor and yet somehow managed to get by without committing crimes, so that anecdote should apply to everyone.           

Do you think the official term is “Paviaphobia?”

          I return to Lord British, who expresses horror at Weston’s story, searches the records, concludes that someone had “usurped mine authority,” promises a full investigation into Figg, and orders Weston released at once. This happens so quickly that the cell is empty when I return.            

I half-expected him to next say, “I usually execute people for that!”

         Before we wrap up, let’s return to Nell and her family. Nell is the castle’s chambermaid. She is pregnant and engaged to Carrocio, an entertainer who runs the “Punch & Judy” show out in Britain. When questioned about her child, she says that Carrocio is probably the father. She muses: “Then again, it could be . . . no, probably not him. Or could it be? Hmmm, that would be interesting.”                

Given your situation, I think you might waive that requirement.

            I don’t know if it’s possible to solve this mystery without killing Lord British, but–after taking a save, of course–that’s what I did. A few times a day, Lord British stands at the doorway between his throne room and the courtyard, looking into the latter with satisfaction. If at that moment you double-click on the plaque above his throne room door, it falls off and embeds himself in his head, supposedly a joke based on an incident in which a piece of metal fell off the ORIGIN building and hit Richard Garriott in the head, sending him to the hospital. To drive the joke home, the Avatar nonsensically yells, “Yancey-Hausman will pay!” This is the name of a still-extant commercial real estate firm that owned ORIGIN’s building.          

The Guardian is pleased with this turn of events. Note: To avoid the discussion, I have speech turned on, but if you just HEAR the Guardian, it doesn’t really help in a screenshot.

          Lord British’s corpse–for which the graphic artists designed a gruesome imagine of the plaque stuck in his head–holds only one object: His will.             

Being of sound mind and body, I hereby bequeath all of my belongings to . . . Nell, my beloved chambermaid. She has kept me warm so many nights, which is more than I can say for most of my bloody subjects! And to our unborn child I bequeath my crown. Long live the king. Or queen, whichever it shall be!

                 There’s so much to unpack in this letter, and a huge question is whether we’re to regard it as canonical. If it is, wow. No one would begrudge Lord British a love interest, of course, but it’s a little troubling that he keeps her and her entire family in servitude instead of recognizing her and at least elevating her to queen-consort or something. More important, he’s willing to let another man raise his unborn child, only recognizing the child if he dies, at which point he won’t be around to see the havoc that this causes for Nell and Carrocio’s marriage. Even worse, the letter shows a secret contempt for his subjects that we’ve never heard from his mouth, and he clearly expects that his government will continue as a hereditary monarchy.         

I didn’t do anything. I was just reading a plaque.

       You could argue that the letter is just supposed to be an Easter egg, an in-joke, accessible only by doing something that breaks the game, but that’s hard to countenance because it’s the second half of the mystery that Nell introduces in regular dialogue. Either way, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: If some ORIGIN employee is responsible for this note (and the general portrayal of Lord British in this and the next game) without consulting Richard Garriott, it was a pretty mean thing to do to one’s boss. If Richard Garriott was aware, or if it was his idea, then it’s a pretty weird thing to do to your alter-ego.            Oddly, no one in the castle has any reaction to Lord British’s demise, so perhaps he wasn’t all that beloved after all. Suspecting that his death makes the game unwinnable, I of course reloaded. 

             She said loudly and clearly while looking around her nervously.

             But we can’t go without finding out how Lord British reacts to being changed with a dirty diaper. I gave it a try while he was sitting down to dinner. The answer is: he screamed, fled to the corner, and then turned around and killed everyone in the entire room with fireballs.

        A diaper brings out the king’s true nature.

           I’m definitely saving one of those for Batlin.

Wow. Over 4,000 words on the castle alone. This is a very content-rich game. Shall I continue with this level of detail, or is it getting to be too much?      Time so far: 7 hours        Edit: I woke up in the middle of the night realizing that someone would ask what happens when you attempt to put a clean diaper on Lord British. I was mildly terrified by the possibilities but I knew I had to try it. Thankfully, he (and any adult) just says, “Those are for babies.” Nothing else happens. Whew.

source http://reposts.ciathyza.com/the-black-gate-a-microcosm/