Think Forward.

Fantasy

How being a parent, a game designer, and a Dungeon Master in D&D all stem from the same skill: worldbuilding. [re-written] 5868

GiANTS game design, 2 mon.
The role of a parent is to be the architect of the world within which their kids grow in, and inevitably grow out of. At least, that's what the experience of fatherhood has been for me, so far. For some, there is an obvious comparison to be made here with the role of a Dungeon Master (DM) in Dungeons and Dragons (D&D). This is a slippery slope that can quickly lead one to certain delusions, so let's nip that in the bud right now: a DM is not a parental figure to their players, a parent shouldn't attempt to control the fate of their children, and a game designer shouldn't be so obsessed as to turn their kids' life into a game. Let's keep those three things compartmentalized while we identify the root from which these roles all stem. The shared element between a game designer, a DM, and a parent is the skill of worldbuilding. But first, for those unfamiliar with the role of a DM or how D&D works, here is a gross over-simplification: D&D is a tabletop role-playing game where players control characters within a world entirely designed by the DM. The DM enforces the laws and nature of the world, as well as narrates consequences of the players' actions, and might control the actions of Non-Player Characters (NPCs), but poses no action in the story. The Players' characters (PCs) have complete agency over their own actions but cannot change the fundamental laws of the universe. So let's take the scenic route first, and explore worldbuilding as a DM. The flexibility and/or rigidity of a DM's rules in a campaign represent the very fabric of reality within the campaign, shaping the environment for the players. I've read fascinating background stories that DMs keep hidden indefinitely from their players, but are intrinsic parts of the campaign that allow the DM to sculpt a solid fabric of reality for their players to adventure in. For example, in one fascinating story that was shared on Reddit, the entire universe is the fabrication of a dying child's mind while in a coma, in which the main villain, an NPC controlled by the DM, is the incarnation of the child's understanding of death. The villain senses that the universe is begging to collapse and his mission is to prepare the universe for the end. The player characters are each manifestations of the child's mind struggling to prevail against death itself. While the players may never learn this backstory, it serves as a foundation for the DM to consistently enforce or bend the world's rules and limitations. Worldbuilding requires an unwavering belief in the reality you're creating, even if that world is fabricated.  If a DM bends the rules - say, resurrecting a player's dead character - it has to mesh well with the rest of the universe they've built, otherwise the whole woven tapestry falls apart. Similarly, parents and game designers can and should apply worldbuilding principles to shape experiences, whether for children or players. As a parent, your worldview influences the environment you create for your kids.  I am a person who grew up in an insidiously oppressive environment. I'll spare you the sob story, but I carried this baggage with me for most of my adult life, and eventually I realized that I had two choices:  pass on my bleak reality to my kids -or- choose to view the world differently and pass that on instead. One thing that became very clear in that moment though was that ultimately, the worldview I adopt will shape the world my kids inhabit. To make this change, I had to mentally construct a new way of viewing reality - a better one - and believe in it fully. All so that I can authentically and sincerely pass on something truly good and healthy to my children. Anything less would just be a well-crafted lie delivered by a well-trained actor playing the role of a good parent. In other words, "fake it 'till you make it". One of the house rules I constantly repeat to my kids is: "we say what we do and then we do what we say." This is so simple, but it's rooted in neuro-science, human psychology, trust-building, and self-regulation, all of it based on my experience and research on the matter. They don't need to know the complexities of it, just that it works. They must be given just enough information that they can identify a clear and subjectively desirable objective, as well just enough tools to manage themselves towards their objective while navigating their obstacles. Just like you don't play a deckbuilding card game with full unlimited access to all the cards. You gradually unlock more options as you play. And you gradually unlock a deeper understanding of the overall game the more times you play the game, based on your interest in that game. This is true about life as well. For fun, here are some more of those bite-sized rules that I've created for my kids: - "Bad guys make trouble and good guys stop trouble." - Addendum to the previous one, revealed much later: "REALLY good guys make good things happen and REALLY bad guys stop good things from happening." - "The truth brings us together, and lies make us alone. Stay with me in the truth and we'll figure it out together." - "Failure leads to learning, which leads to more ways to have fun." - "Your feelings are like kids in the backseat of your car: listen to them, but don't let them drive." These rules are foundational to the world I'm building for them, but they're completely different from the ones I grew up with. I aim to provide a better reality - one with hope, agency, and a clear path to success. It's fascinating to realize that these rules are indeed almost arbitrary; I've chosen them as part of a world I've constructed, and it all comes down to my faith in my own system. Unlike the harsh environment I knew, my kids will grow up in a world where mistakes are just stepping stones to success. This new reality shapes their future, and allows my old one to fade into memory. I hear you, those with teenagers who don't give a rat's ass about anything and who actively reject everything around them like it's an Olympic sport. I'll admit my kids are still quite young, less than 10 years both of them. But you see, this is what's fun for me; it's a calculated gamble. I'm not here to enforce consequences - reality, the one I've shaped for them, will do that. They can lie, cheat, steal, party, and experiment, or just be lazy all they want, and if my reality is consistent and balanced enough, it will handle the consequences. If my rules are solid and coherent enough, they'll understand what went wrong and how to fix it. My role is simply to be present, help them pick up the pieces, and guide them back on track. Hell, if I'm lucky, maybe they'll even be able to identify nefarious activity from afar, and give it wide berth. Regardless of how they end up handling it, my goal is to watch them build their world on top of mine, as I slowly watch my own world crumble gracefully into memory and sink into the bedrock under generations to come.

The Gods only forge the Great. 1645

EL MONO MAS GRANDE, 8 mon.
One day in deep meditation the Biggest Ape met an unborn boy. The boy was alone, scared and deeply disturbed. When he saw the Biggest Ape he ran towards him, heavy tear drops running down his cheeks. - "I saw my future!" cried the boy, kneeling in front the Biggest Ape. - "And?" grunted the Biggest Ape. - "It's horrible!" screamed the child in terror. "It's all treasons a many, strife, pain and suffering, for 20 years from the moment I hit 5." - "What happens, after 25?" Inquired the Biggest Ape. - "I don't know, I was too scared to keep looking." - "Come." said the Biggest Ape. He took him to the top of a mountain, to a secret doorway that leads deep into the earth. For many hours they walked in silent darkness until they heard the sound of metal pouding against metal. They pressed on for a few minutes entering the biggest forge the boy has ever seen. At the center a solitary figure, a big burly man, shirtless, with a long grey beard was pounding a huge piece of metal with a gigantic hammer. He was very hairy, reminding the boy of the Biggest Ape. The man raised his eyes at the Biggest Ape and nodded, the Biggest Ape nodded back and motioned the boy to move closer. -"This is going to be a magnificent sword", whispered the Biggest Ape. "fit for a God". Then gesturing to his left he pointed to a heap of scrap metal. "There are all the metal pieces that could not withstand the hammering and the tempering. They broke, they *abandoned*" . The boy was fascinated. The Biggest Ape placed is right hand over the boys eyes, completely covering his face. The little man let a scream, opening his mouth in astonishment. -"What did you see?" -"I saw the most perfect man, the man beyond man. I saw temples, and statues erected of him centuries after his death. I saw his name on paper and walls for Millenia." -"That sword is being made for him. And that man is you". Then looking at the pile of scrap metal, the deep voice of the Biggest Ape echoed in the forge: == "The Gods test everybody, but only forge the Great." == -"I understand", replied the boy. Thus Spake Apathustra.

I Saw Aicha Kandisha, And I Am Cursed To Never Forget 2207

Anas Bedraoui, 1 y.
3 min read.
Deep in the heart of Moroccan lore, where ancient spirits linger like echoes in the Sahara’s wind, lies a tale that turns the blood of its listeners to ice. This isn’t just a story; it’s a personal confession, a chilling recount of my encounter with the feared Aicha Kandisha on the night of July 15, 2009. It was the height of summer in 2009 when my interest in the myths of Morocco led me to a quaint village cradled by the Atlas Mountains. Among the local spirits, Aicha Kandisha is perhaps the most captivating and terrifying. Depicted with the legs of a goat and a bewitching beauty that belies her true nature, she is both feared and revered as a water jinn who brings a curse upon any man who lays eyes upon her. Driven by a blend of skepticism and intrigue, I dismissed the stern warnings of the villagers and made my way to a stream rumored to be haunted on the outskirts of the village. As the sun dipped below the horizon and the clock neared 8:43 PM, I found myself standing by the gently flowing waters enveloped in the heavy, sweet scent of wild jasmine — a smell that was soon accompanied by an unsettling sense of foreboding. At precisely 9:17 PM, a sudden, icy wind cut through the valley, rustling the leaves and carrying with it the faint murmur of ancient voices. The air grew colder, and I felt an eerie sensation of being watched. When I turned, my heart seized at the sight before me. There, by the water’s edge, stood a figure of both mesmerizing and horrific aspect. Her beauty was otherworldly, with eyes that smoldered like dark embers and skin that glowed softly under the moonlight. Yet, it was her legs that truly horrified — cloven and covered in coarse black fur, they stamped lightly on the soft earth as she moved towards me with an unsettling grace. Rooted to the spot, I watched as she approached. She spoke in a voice that was both melodious and laden with a deep, enduring sorrow, “Why do you seek me, son of distant lands?” Her gaze pierced deep into my soul, paralyzing me further. I was unable to speak, completely caught in her hypnotic presence. She circled around me, her intense fragrance of jasmine growing stronger and more heady, almost overpowering in its intensity. “Many have sought me out, driven by curiosity or what they perceive as bravery. Few have managed to leave without bearing some form of scar,” she whispered, her voice chilling as her breath brushed against my ear. The wind grew into a roar by 9:36 PM, now carrying with it the screams of those long tormented and lost. The waters of the stream began to thrash and churn as if something ancient and monstrous stirred beneath its surface. Fear gripped me entirely, and in a desperate attempt to communicate, I found my voice, “I meant no disrespect, I merely wished to learn more,” I stammered, my voice barely a whisper, pleading for some semblance of mercy. Her laughter rang out then, a sound that seemed to mock my very existence, resonant and echoing through the valley, “Then learn you shall,” she declared ominously, “But remember, all knowledge comes at a price.” She vanished into the night at 9:45 PM, leaving me alone by the now tumultuous stream, her lingering presence like a cold shadow in the air. I made my way back to the village, a changed man. The villagers saw the terror etched upon my face and the unnatural pallor of my skin. They knew without words that Aicha Kandisha had marked me, a silent testament that certain mysteries should indeed remain untouched. To this day, I am haunted by nightmares filled with the scent of jasmine and the pale light of the moon. Her mocking laughter echoes in my ears, a cruel reminder of my encounter. Each night as the air grows thick with the fragrance of jasmine and the shadows lengthen under the moonlight, I feel her icy gaze upon me from the darkness, watching and perhaps amused by my lingering terror, ready to remind me once more of the dreadful cost of my forbidden curiosity. The encounter has left an indelible mark on my psyche, a deep-seated fear that perhaps some secrets are indeed too perilous to explore, and that some spirits, like Aicha Kandisha, are better left in the realm of the unknown.
medium.com/entropies/i-saw-aicha...

Rock Lined Pockets 1794

Taha Mrichi, 1 y.
0 min read.
See the alarm in the shark’s cadence, Hear the sharp seagull’s cry: The merling king has come! The merling king has come! Jellyfish floating around his cloudy crystal crown Like translucent passive thoughts of aggression. Will he forgive your primate indiscretion? In his court of slime and rock sublime He beckons you with open tentacles to join his circle of hedonistic companions. The mermaid is a murderous creature. The dolphins are wanton and wild. What’s that in your pockets? The inquisitive mollusk asks. Rocks. Of the precious kind? No. His soft limbs curl back in plain disappointment. From under a shell a faint voice cautioned, Do not trust in the soft bodied rogue’s trade. Down here the written word is as fleeting as the spoken one.