Doing This Right (Wyborn)

[Nameless Author]

Uh-huh. What about, oh, I don't know, the TOPICS YOU WERE DISCUSSING IN ON OTHER PARTS OF VGF. Whether or not you informed Firestorm, you said nothing outside of this topic about your reasons for leaving the entire BBS, and made it rather plain that you didn't intend to ever return.

I was in three topics total during my brief stay. Not exactly the sort of thing I really think will leave people stranded, particularly because I tied things up in the story one by Firestorm, and linked that roleplayed exit to Tazy's topic, where my character left. All roleplayed, all done nice and neat.

I also didn't think it was necessary to state my reasons for leaving. Naturally, I assumed that since I had only just arrived I could leave just as easily. Apparently not.

I can see where this applies to the Gunjin. Now please explain how his position as a top battler also means that he is representative of the entire VGF community. Because I honestly can't see that.

Note: The following comparison is not meant in any way to insult Wyborn or the Gunjin.

I like it to foreign countries and the USA. George Bush, Condoleeza Rice, and all the other high-ranked people in the government are being watched by those foreign countries, and the US is judged as a whole based on those observations. They see Bush keep upholding the Iraq War and they see Americans as bloodthirsty barbarians who can't keep their noses out of their business.

People held in high esteem by something or someone will reflect what an outsider sees. The outsider sees that someone of good standing keeps company with a downright criminal, the person of good standing is no longer respected. Same with the Gunjin. I see Wyborn, someone in good standing with the community, and I automatically think that the Gunjin reflects this person, or why else would he be in such standing? This is logical thinking.

Did I say 'you should have said and done nothing'? Where did I say that? I sure don't remember saying that.

And if you don't feel any empathy for others, well then, that's one of the most critical parts of the definition of 'N00b'. Thinking only of things as they relate to you in the emotional sense, and not caring about the impact on others. Logic is very good for math and for certain forms of science. For dealing with people, it flies about like a lead brick.

I said I lack empathy, that is correct. However, I also said that I follow what is logical. Being polite is logical. Being kind is logical. Happiness is logical. Thinking of whether or not I will offend is logical. Keeping others in mind with what I do is logical. That is my logic, not the narcissistic logic you have me pegged for.

If you haven't noticed, regardless of the facts of things you QUOTED, the things you SAID are largely either a: wrong, b: demonstrative of an inability to take into account the intrinsic value of other people, or c: blatantly inflammatory without due reason.

Name something I said that was wrong. Keeping in mind that in a debate the definitions of right and wrong fluctuate depending on the person.

I find that human beings do have intrinsic value, especially after seeing what they are capable of. Once again, not the narcissist logic you think I use.

I am never inflammatory without due cause. I am one of the meekest voices you will hear on the Internet. It's when I find a cause to fight for and know that logic is in my favor that I strike back.

Regardless of all else, my grumph over misinterperetation was about you interpereting the nomination for the N00b award as resulting from what you did in this topic.

That was more of a parting shot at whoever did nominate me. I honestly couldn't care less about awards or titles. I can look at my work and say that doesn't match what others say about me, so I can safely dismiss that.

****all about this topic, that award's for your overreaction to this topic by simply abandoning this entire social group as untenable. The manner in which you have chosen to continue this argument (and, in fact, the very fact that you came back for no other reason than to continue said argument, despite having ostensibly finished) demonstrates what is considered a N00bish attitude. I and most other people don't give a heap of rotting fishheads about your skill level or what you're used to, your attitude, particularly relating to the way you chose to assume that everyone on this entire BBS is exactly like one representative member (which isn't even a logical assumption, nevermind a valid one), and thus with no consideration to how it would miff, irritate, inconvenience, or trouble others, left.

I came back to set the record straight that Frost was dead and there was no reason for Wyborn to continuously drag this topic up unnecessarily. Nothing more. We began the argument on AIM, which was a pointless endeavor since he kept dodging my statements.

Nobody cares about my skill, not even me. I look at it as a talent that needs a lot of work in order to be useful. I don't look down on other writers based on their skill, because I was once at that level. I don't look up to other writers based on their skill, because I will one day be at their level. What I am used to is simple, fairness. Which was doing just fine until the final post. Simple enough to expect, yes?

Again, I was a drifter who had blown in, posted a bit, then decided to blow out. There was no one who was at all inconvenienced, because I took the time to tie up the loose ends before walking out the door. A drifter does not draw attention, and if he does then he is quickly forgotten after he passes through. Do you think that Galefore or Wyborn is remembered on KAF, even after their gaffe there? No, they were a couple of new people who came in, dabbled a bit, then left. Nothing new, nothing noteworthy, nothing to care about.

Again, my irritation is over a: the fact that you decided to respond to the existence of this argument in an inconsiderate, illogical, and unsensible manner and b: that you misinterpereted the award nomination as being because you argued with Wyborn.

I responded to the argument in the only logical way: by showing the evidence, stating my view of it, and clinching it all together in one neat package.

Particularly since, as Wyborn can tell you, I ARGUE WITH HIM ALL THE FETHING TIME about battle-related stuff- particularly physics, spirituality, and likely actions and responses of characters. And frequently, we each have to give up on convincing the other of something, and just try something other than what we originally intended. It's inconvenient to us, but considerate to each other, and to anyone who happens to feel like reading what we write.

Arguing is natural. Even if it were because I argued, why would I care about someone who thinks no one should argue? Arguing is what gets things decided.

So no, if I'm misinterpereting what you say, you're clearly doing just as badly at interpereting what I say. Communication is two ways, Nameless. TWO ways.

Indeed. And I am communicating based on what I see you communicating. Like you said, if you are misinterpreting me, then I am misinterpreting you.

Sidenote: Tazy, what the heck are you doing here?

Further sidenote: Incidentally, Nameless, if you intend to somehow make your argument more convincing by calling people names like 'naive moron', I strongly suggest other methods.

Logic wasn't working. I figured maybe harsh language would. That's not exactly my strong point, as you observed.

[Galefore]

Tazy, leave my job up to me. As of now, I'd prefer to let these guys work things out by themselves. They are more than capable. Still, I would be glad to lock this if you so desire.

[Nameless Author]

I'll respond to this situation in earnest in a few hours, since for whatever reason Frost stopped responding to my IMs last night without a word as to why.

I wanted to play World of Warcraft before I went to bed.

Ding. 66.

[Wyborn]

"Oh you uncouth pain in my ass!"

The words were heard everywhere because they came from everywhere, saturating the world with intent and irritation and shaking the ground. Things froze at those words; Wyborn ceased to breathe, and animals stood without blinking, and the water ceased to lap at the shores of the lake.

"I hate doing this. Even Stephen King could barely pull it off, and he was actually writing a story about writing. I'm embarrassing myself because you're embarrassing yourself; how stupid is that?"

The young man was walking on the lake, because he liked the Christ imagery juxtaposed against a much-vaunted haunted lake full of toxicity and crap like that. He wore no shoes, he didn't really know what fabric his olive-colored pants were made of, and the newest thing about his was his light blue long-sleeved button-up shirt. He looked comfortable, as he had been before this whole mess had lit a fire under his ass.

"I mean, do you even know what an olive branch means?"

He was skinny to a fault; at six feet tall he couldn't have weighed more than a hundred and forty pounds, and that thinness showed in his arms and his legs and his waist and everywhere. His eyes were sunk as if he were permanently sleep-deprived, but in spite of all of that he looked perfectly focused. Reading his expression was hard, as he tried his best not to let his face betray his emotions, but his thin mouth and large nose and unruly eyebrows looked like they could be very expressive.

"Yes, yes, and his hair was down to his shoulders and very messy as if it had been wind-blown all day, blah blah blah, the one word that could describe him was 'unkempt', I'm tired of this crap let's move on."

He stepped onto the shore of the lake and walked past Wyborn without so much as looking at him, making a bee-line for a pile of dust and ash only some thirty feet away form the epicenter of the psychic's attack.

"I tried to keep this out of the public eye, Frost; I did. I tried to be civil. I tried to reason with you. You won't let me be polite; you won't hold to your words, either to continue the fight or to simply go away. You are a burden to me, in front of people I consider friends. I'm doing this because it's more interesting for me than just writing up another post full of quote trees and out-of-character bitching."

He waved his hand, and the dust in the pile blew away, and the young elementalist was revealed.

"I also figured you'd be more likely to read the entirety of this as compared to a normal post, as you refused to even address my last one."

He winced at the sight before him; he always found it easy to detach himself from the images he created, but this one was something like an accidental surprise and he was doing his best to think of the corpse as a collection of words. The boy's body was one massive fused pieces of meat, hissing and spitting as clotted blood pooled beneath him and grease popped in its mouth, its nostrils, the empty sockets of his eyes. The image made him ashamed that he could even create that sort of thing, but given the context he did not care overmuch.

"You like to throw around maxims, Frost, like they mean something to anyone, thinking to edify me concerning the 'high art' of authorship. I've got one for you, which applies to life in general but writing in particular: say what you mean, and mean what you say."

He reached down and grabbed the corpse by its neck; he didn't feel its skin, though he could imagine what it must have felt like. The thought made the follicles on his scalp prickle. He hoisted the little Frost up like a doll.

"If your little avatar - and let's be frank, that's all he really is - is so easy to kill, make it apparent in your narrative. Don't expect me to think he has normal human biology when he says in front of God and everybody that as long as he can control ice he can fight until his body turns to dust; if he stops controlling ice before that point I think it's just stupid to say, and that little bit of miscommunication is on your shoulders, not mine."

He put his free hand on the body's forehead, and it was sticky and hot and dry and slimy all at once.

"I mean, come on. If he stops controlling ice at a point before he turns to dust, that's really a point that's worth noting. Don't expect me to assume he runs on normal human rules when all I have to go on is his statements and the fact that he's some kind of magical prodigy capable of keeping himself artificially alive using the 'power of cold'."

He shook the boy's head.

"Live, damn you."

The boy lived; he would have coughed, but did not, as time had apparently been stopped except for that locality of the real Mary Sue's influence.

"Do you know how bad it is when I have to let Selene argue for me? Nothing against her, she's good at arguing when she has a mind to, but when you drive me to the point that I exhaust normal channels of conversation then you've done something special."

He shook the head again, and the burns ceased to ooze and hiss and pop and smoke. They began to close, and lighten.

"More than that, you refuse to accept anything I say; you skirt the real issues of this, which supercede any complaints you have. You won't play by our rules, you refuse to accept that the miscommunication was your fault - Hell, you don't even acknowledge that I call it a miscommunication. You're so intent on finding malicious intent that you refuse to see when I'm trying to smooth things over."

His fingers tightened on the boy-Frost's now-recognizable head. He could have crushed it like an eggshell, but he didn't. The imagery was grotesque, and he didn't want to contemplate it enough to make it real.

"So here's the gist of it: you failed to communicate, you left after throwing a hissy fit that a four-year-old would be ashamed of before storming out, you came back for the sole purpose of arguing some more when all I was doing was trying to spread some understanding, you're the one who came into this with what I'm beginning to suspect was the express intent of leaving on some trumped-up pretend reason, you're the one who deliriously talks down to anyone who tries to reason with you, and you are the chief reason hat this hasn't already been resolved and moved past. You are presenting yourself as rude, abrasive, unseemly, an ill representative of your style, bigoted, and...."

He thought for a moment.

"Ah, yes. A drama queen. You act like you have to be reminded that this isn't some kind of high-school anime centering around the escapades of the debate club, where you're arguing against the evil indigo-suited captain of some alternative philosophy with sinister ulterior motives. Your inability to communicate without referring constantly to some high-school concept of logic and harsh language leaves a foul taste in my mouth, and the rudeness you exhibit towards perfectly reasonable people is shameful."

He dropped the little sorcerer on the ground, and looked in the boy's face as if he were looking at the offending mind behind it.

"My name is Cameron. You came here and acted like a jerk, and you're still acting like a jerk, and the provocation for all of this is imaginary. Get over your vaunted concept of what role-playing on the internet should be and get back to having fun with it."

"But you know what else? I'm still leaving this open; I've ret-conned damage for you in the most explicit way imaginable, literally describing a process that is normally quite nebulous. I don't have any problems with you personally. I think you got the wrong impression, I think you're probably actually a reasonable, nice guy with a bit of a chip on his shoulder, and if you calm down and just think about the situation for a while you'll come to the same conclusion."

Cameron turned and walked away - he reflected that he had only been using pronouns to refer to himself up to that point because using actual nouns in the third person was as unnatural as anything he had ever done. How could King stand it?

"Either get back into the fight or go away. If you come back in here, leave your baggage at the door. The last thing anyone, anywhere needs is more pointless bitching."

Then he was gone.

"Come on, Frost!" Wyborn said.

"Show me what you got!"