Show Posts

This section allows you to view all posts made by this member. Note that you can only see posts made in areas you currently have access to.

Topics - CryptCypher

Pages: [1]
Development / Inter-Realm RP
« on: May 05, 2020, 10:31:03 PM »
In light of the massive debate that took place in Belluaterra's OOC Ruler/Admin channel...

Its been a humbling reminder of what BattleMaster once stood for, and the intense inter-realm RP I fell in love with over a decade ago. Something needs to be said, so here goes.

At its heart - though each player prefers a particular set of mechanics - BattleMaster has always been a sociopolitical story generator; whether written or inferred.

We inhabit these fantasy worlds; weave our fates; and watch as dynasties, nations, and entire continents are reshaped as a result of our words and actions.

This week I came back to BM because I re-found a Battlemaster timelapse video on Youtube showing the rise and fall of nations over the years. In so many ways it was humbling to consider how many human beings, some of which are no longer among the living, sacrificed countless hours and sleepless nights to shape our history.

With age the tides have shifted as continents are increasingly depopulated, nations grown insular, and communication ever more frustrating.

Many recall how Belluaterra's daemonic invasions influenced every continental power from the freshest noble to the eldest kings - reshuffling our identities  and priorities every step of the way. The truth is that it wasn't the threat of Blight, or the massive armies who accomplished this feat: it was the simple fact that we had an avenue by which to include all nobles, all realms, all facets of continental society, bringing people together and giving them fresh ways to form individual paths toward a future unknown. Now, its too much to ask that admins regularly conduct such events, if even on a minor scale. That requires time, code, and principally, effort and availability. We understand that admins can't be the omnipresent gods we so desire. Not with so little population, so few subscriptions, and actual personal lives.

With these facts and the new experimental messaging systems in mind - perhaps a proposal is in order? What would it require to implement the means for inter-realm RP as a fundamental mechanism?

Perhaps a tab on the experimental messager/reader, or a checkbox that opts-in to sending/receiving RP's conducted across the continent by others who wish to do so - thereby a sailor or foreign dignitary enjoying a tavern crawl can delight the locals with stories of a particular event that took place on the opposite end of the continent, which local nobles can then cite in their own RP's and even pass some new RP forward for everyone's enjoyment.

Perhaps one can opt-in per message, or employ a tier-specific toggle per character/guild/religion/realm that forwards RP to all who wish to partake.

After using the new experimental messaging system, it seems like this might be possible. If not, then rather than a mechanic suggestion, we could brainstorm ways to fine-tune existing communication channels to better allow for meaningful interaction between the players... The existing limitations are why I and so many others grew tired and quit BM/M&F in the first place. There is so much wasted potential - if only it weren't such a massive pain to ease the RP and general inter-organizational process beyond the limitations of a single realm or guild.

Take the current Belluaterran situation for example.

For an Obean faithful of Obia'syela to RP with Thalmarites at all, let alone include Mordokian, Daishi and non-religious nobles, and the other realms involved in the whole transcontinental conflict - thereby making things so much more fun, interesting, and inclusive by allowing everyone involved to have their moment -- every single player involved must spend an inordinate amount of time copying, pasting, and forwarding messages, faithfully and without fail... Just to have organizations with perfectly good IC reasons to have meaningful interaction beyond marching our armies across the continent, being in the same region before a big battle, and frantically typing a short RP because you might get captured in combat and they'd be gone by the time you could post again so what's the point. That or creating a whole logistics chain of people willing to forward messages to and from a dozen different realms, religions, and guilds. Its just too much to manage or ask of anyone.

If we could improve players' ability to communicate between organizational levels, we'd have more time and sanity available to actually interact.

Quote from: Yxevarii Auru'in: Doom of the Enlightened - Battle of Ardmore
"We never saw them coming.

The bane of generations - an ancient scourge borne upon the howling wind.

Harbingers of a plague given form; their bleak silhouettes carved unto memory.

Souls of black without conscious spark.

...Or so we believed.

    A fell wind blew that night - that blasphemous wail of dark lament.

Profane mutterings born of an eldritch macrocosm far beyond Man's perception.

Shambling hordes scattered beyond leagues; devoid of cause nor destination...

By the naive nature of callous Men, we mistook them for naught but mindless wanderers.

How could we be so wrong?

    Putrid maws called out unto the darkness in a tongue Man cannot fathom - and something answered the call.

Like a plague of locusts they coalesced. A leviathan horde descended from the pits of oblivion to cleave our ranks asunder.

Despite the best training and preparation money can buy, our defensive positions were overwhelmed without warning.

How does one defeat an enemy who feels no pain; which never tires; that knows no fear?

We never stood a chance.

    First they ambushed our scouts. Then they probed our response - unveiling vulnerabilities we were too blind to notice.

The flood broke upon our flanks like a tsunami - consuming the front-lines like loose grains of sand.

They were too swift, too vast a force to reform our lines. There was no second charge.

What few men survived will forever relive that night in their darkest nightmares.

We've doomed us all."

East Island / The Path of Conflagration: From Ash unto Flame
« on: January 31, 2018, 09:42:08 PM »
End of an era... And the rebirth of opportunity. The Path of Ashes may be over, but the Conflagration has only just begun...

Letter from Sigrid Gudrun Auru'in   (1 hour, 23 minutes ago)
message to all nobles of Redhaven

...The Path has come to an end.

Religion Lost   (2 hours, 9 minutes ago)
message to everyone in The Path of the Paragons

With the loss of its last temple, your order The Path of the Paragons has lost its powers and influence, forcing it to close down. The order has been disbanded and your membership terminated.

Sigrid Gudrun Auru'in
Baroness of Sermbar

Lets take this opportunity to rekindle the [Xavax] Flame - the Old Way.

Out-of-Character from Sigrid Gudrun Auru'in   (just sent)
message to all nobles of Redhaven

:| Well that was terribly anti-climactic.

Our downfall is quite clear: we made the faith too insular and it never had a chance to gain traction. We can have a faith that deals primarily in Xavax-inspired lore, but without excluding others in the process. Its all about keeping things dynamic enough to apply to other cultures, and substantive enough to merit interaction between its members and outsiders. Unfortunately, we lacked both options.

Beside using its channel as a clandestine political faction headquarters, there was little-to-no actual interaction of faith or lore, nor development of such. If any took place it did so in private channels or long ago - making the organized religion and its channel a pointless exercise in the first place. Add the fact that our Saoi had zero tolerance for alternate ideas and excommunicated the first person who expressed a challenging view, and we were dead before the blood dried.

Since no one else can spare the time & effort to keep faith, allow me to propose a [counter-] reformation, hearkening back to the multi-national origin of Xavax faith.

I believe that a clever splicing of Paragon-Path and Phoenix-Cult, with some new ideas thrown in, will fare better than the Path did.

If anyone has any ideas, lets get the ball rolling. I have no problem making Sigrid a Priestess - as a younger character it prevents the Xavax from losing far more experienced and important characters and denying Redhaven their substantial recruitment pools.

RP was always my strong suit anyway. I can contribute far more as a diplomat and deal-pusher than an extra body on the field.

BM General Discussion / IC Greatest Snubs of All Time
« on: January 25, 2018, 03:19:22 AM »
Been on the receiving end of a brilliant snub? Witness someone cut down to size? Care to share your favorite telling-off or insult?

After writing one of my own, I wondered what amazing insults and snubs have taken place throughout the years. I'm sure some of you have incredible stories to share!

I guess I'll start with the inspiration for this thread. Behold: the human insult-generator, Astros Renodin, finally getting a taste of his own medicine.

Letter from Yxevarii Auru'in
all nobles of Obia'Syela
Trainee Astros,

You flatter me. Unfortunately, it seems you are incapable of comprehending the most fundamental basics of leadership, diplomacy, or communication. You -do- know how to read, I presume? If your goal is to play the fool, I commend thee: you'd be a mighty fine actor, knight Astros. Can you hear the applause? Take a bow, as you so love to do.

Allow me to express what every single Obian has come to think; every time a letter from the glorious, all-powerful Astros Renodin graces us with your eternal wisdom. I'll be sure to use a few more of those big fancy words you so love to hear. I might even rhyme a few times just to humor you. Feel free to have your scribe read and translate this letter aloud to you, just like all the others.

 You've crawled out of the woodwork to exalt yourself as the great, the mighty, the genius, the savior with all the answers yet none of the skill, knowledge, wisdom, humility, or plain common sense to back it up.

The smell of power intoxicates you, and all you care about is getting your next fix. You don't care that the lives of all faithful are at stake here, and not only that: the fate of the world is on the line.

You are a parasite, Astros Renodin. A bottom-feeder suckling at the teat of greater men. You wield Obeah's name like an assassin wields poison: as nothing but a tool by which your ambitions are set in motion. You speak so much of heretics, yet you are the greatest infidel of all.

You sling badly-inflected words of petty passive-aggression like a primate flings fresh feces - yet even if you strike your hapless target, you're covered in it by default. And yet... You don't notice the stink because you've been wallowing in filth for the entirety of your meaningless existence. You are a disgrace to the Inquisition, the Enlightened, and all who hold Obeah in the highest.

Yet you just won’t give up, will you? Subject to incredibly brash mistakes that crash and burn when your “perfect vision” proves to be little more than a lie - told so often that you -actually- think anyone believes a single "clever" word that spills from your diseased mind. You are far too self-absorbed to survive in the real world. Your grasp of power will be a passing fluke, after which your inability to maintain the most basic of virtues will promptly bury you - that and you'll be stabbed in the back by those with a little more tact and good sense.

You, Astros Renodin, are the epitome of a lesser man - a condescending narcissist, habitually hawking your negligible worth as if your skull contained any more than hot air. Your entire delusional existence consists of one giant over-compensating ego serving as a shaky conduit for your ambitions toward unattainable power - yet in reality you're a helplessness, miserable manchild and third-rate subordinate unworthy of the lowliest charge. Obeah-forbid you ever rise to power: you will undoubtedly take it for granted as you do everything and everyone else, swiftly overstep your limited abilities and nonexistent boundaries, and promptly find yourself at the losing end - time after time. Unfortunately, you will drag this entire realm down to burn alongside you.

The profound responsibility of leading a realm is a burden you will never value nor understand.

Yxevarii Auru'in

Q&A / Human Interaction
« on: January 02, 2018, 06:47:43 PM »
Can we interact with Humans yet? I'd like to post a chapter about the creation of music/language/spoken word in living beings.

We've got animals and Humans, but outside of the names given by Immortals, these beings have yet to develop language or songs of their own. :) Before they can begin assembling true cultures, we must give unto Man the gift of wisdom ;)

Or dreams, for that matter... Hmm... If allowed, I'd like to sort-of make Apsu the god of dream/songs to continue his backstory and start adding substance to the newly-created Mankind.

May I, or do we need to finish the 3-chapter bit since Astalos made them first?

Work in Progress / Geography Experiment
« on: December 23, 2017, 05:08:50 PM »
Noticed interesting parallels between the crescent-moon and the big pangea-style continent concepts.

Decided to "fill in the blanks", so to speak, accounting for some breakage, continental drift, etc, factoring in an idea that some sort of cosmic impact caused said breakage. (Happened to be researching impact influence on earth's formation of continents, and hypothetical Hadean Era organisms, so it came up.)

Pardon the horrible quality, everything was done in MS Paint. Had a little too much fun adding detail to the (sub?)continent I made. If anyone thinks the idea works out, I'll type up a little chapter for it. Otherwise, I'll just make something up from scratch like everyone else and hope we can figure out where to stick/orient everything down the road :P Actually... Are we designing multiple continents in parallel yet, or are we focused on a singular origin continent? A bit confused about that. Sorry.

Work in Progress / Communal Creation Myth
« on: December 22, 2017, 02:55:56 PM »
Shall we work out a creation myth together?

Ideas so far:

Quote from: Tom-Tempus
"Pah, Youngsters!", the ancient being thought to itself upon opening his eyes on yet another universe. He had been through more than one already, starting his life as a mere mortal and later becoming a powerful mage, powerful enough to survive the end of the world and be reborn as a god into the next one. Maybe there had been others beyond that, maybe even many? His memory was not what it used to be, a side-effect of achieving immortality late in mortal life.

His resentment of basically everyone and everything else had clung with him through his incarnations.

Tempus looked around, and the world was barren.

"Really? They can't even get the most simply things done before waking an old man?"

Someone in the last universe had called him "grumpy". He had shown him what grumpy looks like.

Quote from: Lapallanch-Astalos
From the dark void between the thousand fires, a powerful being gained consciousness. The being existed even before the time of creation but it came to recognize itself as a singular entity not as a part of the greater whole until now. To distinguish itself from the whole it separated from, it gave itself a name 'Astalos'. Upon its naming, Astalos felt a strange attraction far from its place of awakening. Astalos parted itself from the void and began its journey toward the place which attracted its very being.

Quote from: Jaune-Kalma
There was a huge egg which bursted out from sun. Time passed and egg was circling around the Sun. One day egg hatched out and pale skinned man came out from it. Egg shell pieces fell down to the sea, creating islands.

Sun was burning his pale skin. He started to look for cover from sun.

His name was Kalma, bastard Son of the Sun.

Quote from: Andrew-Solarus
Long and complex, better to link to it:,8131.0.html

Quote from: CryptCypher-Apsu
From the Void burst forth a Song of Dreamers, so now as infinitely before. Infinity bore the Seed of Creation's Womb, whose tireless chant churned the primeval sea of nothingness to coalesce dreaming gods and spirits without form. Of the Dreamers who bore the Songs of Creation, echoes of a Time before Time, Apsu was but One Voice among the Many. In a place beyond places, in the house of cosmic waters, dead Dreamers lay waiting. They who sang Creation into being, They who gave form unto the formless, whose ceaseless chant conferred dimension unto limitless Void. And so Apsu <We/They/Dreamer(s)> churned, and chanted, among the Countless and the Ceaseless, the gods and spirits beyond infinity by whose dreaming would coalesce existence once more.

If we draw parallels between our concepts, perhaps we may begin fleshing out a rudimentary creation myth, or series of myths. Some of us seem to be going for the long-game, more of a universal-scale "In the Beginning", while others like Kalma are focusing on the more short term solar-system. No reason you can't do both, or any number of segments in the logical sequence of {multiverse-/} void - creation (universe) - expansion - nebulae - stars - worlds - life.

Raw example of such sequential breakdown:

Q&A / Creation Myth
« on: December 22, 2017, 01:12:11 PM »
Noted Tom's comments on the island creation myth bit from Kalma's character.

Is there a particular limit to the island/continent/landmass creation? Since liquid bodies also contain life, unique geography, forces, etc, often alien to that of land, are we limited to land-based efforts or can we go all Cthulhu/Outer Gods on ya?

Characters / Apsu
« on: December 22, 2017, 12:03:41 PM »
From the Void burst forth a Song of Dreamers, so now as infinitely before. Infinity bore the Seed of Creation's Womb, whose tireless chant churned the primeval sea of nothingness to coalesce dreaming gods and spirits without form. Of the Dreamers who bore the Songs of Creation, echoes of a Time before Time, Apsu was but One Voice among the Many. In a place beyond places, in the house of cosmic waters, dead Dreamers lay waiting. They who sang Creation into being, They who gave form unto the formless, whose ceaseless chant conferred dimension unto limitless Void. And so Apsu churned, and chanted, among the Countless and the Ceaseless, the gods and spirits beyond infinity by whose dreaming would coalesce existence once more.

(Does that work?)
[Apsu: Sumerian for "Beginning" ("One who exists from the beginning.")]

Other Games / Discuss: Legends
« on: December 21, 2017, 11:43:01 AM »
...Just want to say, Tom, you're a friggin' genius. You've no idea how BIG this can get. Every RP/MUD lover's wet dream right there!

"Lukur ina etuti asbu..."

Eighty-eight silhouettes lay silent beneath a dim Winter sun as D'hara's desperate charge breaks upon enemy flank. As the sounds of steel upon flesh and the final cries of dying men subside, the howling gale shrieks deep in all its horrid glory. Raging bonfires cast remnant shadows across a vast sea of Mattan grain, as the odor of sun-baked gore carries across its glimmering bronze stained crimson-black. With the acrid smoke of charred flesh welling unwelcome tears in the eyes of its survivors, the blood of monsters and men commingle as the scarred plains drink every blasted drop.

Across the jagged Mattan coast lay quaint fishing villages whose strange peasants pray the mourning vigil in the blasphemous name of even stranger Gods... Accursed congregations toiling in those bloodied fields upon which greater men are sacrificed time and again. Trapped in a waking nightmare from which there can be no escape, their lives sustained by the profane ritual of convenient massacre come every blasted winter. The faint scent of mind-numbing Spice lingers upon one's miserable breath, a welcome diversion to ease the stark reality of this hell they call home. Though suffered years may come and go as conquering nations rise and fall, the sacrifice must always be paid - for the Old Gods' thirst is unquenchable. For the respite of those quiet villages and their peculiar denizens, the gift of life bears an unspeakable price: one whose blood-price unwitting nations have paid since time immemorial. As the pyres cast ash unto the maelstrom, and the flames die down to mere cinders, empty prayers are whispered by the foolish spawn of those who dare claim the daemon bounty of Mattan grain.

"Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn... "

From the oft-clawed-upon shores of Sallowtown and Port Raviel, to the deathly undulations of Mattan and the Desert of Silhouettes, unwitting noblemen march without sense or reason. Opulent palaces and towering citadels abandoned to wise stewards whose craven pacifism guarantees another day may die with body and soul intact - for those who delve too far behold horrors Man was not designed to see. A distant dream by whose battered fists our soldiers cannot grasp; shattered hopes left to rot like so many bodies in a burning pyre; the collapse of proud, decadent empires whose blasphemous curiosities malign the yawning gulfs of time. Slumbering fools, dead before a drop has spilled, frayed nerves like the cords of heedless ambition grown slack as the noose by which all inevitably die.

Battered helms slip over unseeing eyes. Rust-worn blades are whet in futile gestures. A mass grave takes form... And in the dying light of bleak afternoon, those greedy plains await their unholy tribute once more.

Masalu Auru'in // 11-10-17 ; 0402 EST // IC: Winter - Day // D'hara-Dwilight: Mattan Dews (Post-Battle I ; Pre-Battle II v. monster horde)

Roleplaying / Assorted RP's of Sigrid Gudrun Auru'in
« on: November 06, 2017, 03:57:24 PM »
A place to store the many RP's to come, so I don't lose them like with my old characters/accounts. :)

Roleplay from Sigrid Gudrun Auru'in   (3 days, 4 hours ago)
Message sent to everyone in the region Krimml (29 recipients)
(Non-English terms are Old Norse. Warriors are Northmen.)

A small retinue approaches from northwest from Commonyr, circa Oligarch.

My first vivid impression of Krimml was that of a squat city nestled unto the verdant hills of Braga.  The pleasant scent of her infamous meat pastries hung gently in the air as the great looming shadow of Oligarch cast wide from late evening's setting sun. Scarred by the passage of countless wars, her four-tiered stronghold rose stark and proud against the silhouette of bandit-infested forests. A distant cadre of trade-wagons creaked and scraped at the loose cobblestone road leading from the great forest toward Oligarch's main thoroughfare, caravan guards on alert for a chance skirmish by overzealous brigands. Tonight however, not a soul lay claim to the slightest footfall beneath her wavering boughs: for only fool or madman would stir trouble in these circumstances.

"Ýmirs frosteistna... Now that's a bloody army..." (Ymir's frosty balls)

A thousand bodies flittered lazily between clusters of hastily-pitched tents sown wide beyond the sloping rim of Krimml's outer reaches, inhabiting a sparse expanse of uneven terrain likely cleared by malnourished woodsmen and restless invaders of ages past. Scattered campfires spewed trails of smoke as the final rays of dying light shoze brazenly across the glinting armor of at least five-hundred infantrymen. Twenty-nine distinct banners fluttered in the evening breeze as heepish campwomen, hurried cooks, jingling traders, and assorted servants made up the hundreds wandering where chain and plate failed to betray soldier's garb. Small groups of wary rangers clumped together in various vantage points, the off-brown of their faded leather reminiscent of dried blood drops.

Though I could recognize scant few banners from a brief study of Oligarch's records, one stood out as being of decidedly foreign origin. Around fifty tired-looking rangers huddled beneath that foreign banner as the thick smoke of their camfires licked the sky. Perhaps a passing dignitary come to meet with Prime Minister Mersault,  or an early arrival for Duke Tandaros's wedding. Surrounded as they were by at least a thousand armed Sirionites, there could be no fear of foolish betrayal.

My own retinue of rangers, nineteen in all, gradually slowed their exhausted march as we approached the furthest camp. A few men briefly paused to look our way - gazing curiously at our single quivering standard - whence flew bloody Phoenix upon a background of sable flanked by argent flaunches. I wondered for a passing moment if any still recalled the old meaning of twin flaunches upon heraldic shield...  That archaic debruisement whence claimed the illegitimate spawn of a noblewoman must bear her arms with "a surcoat"; that is, on large flaunches around a blank center. Except the center of my own banner bore the shining crimson of a feathered bird from whose wings those brilliant white flaunches radiated like the rays of a Gods' light.

"Nei brandir! Takið þér yðart bogi... Ragnarr: hvar er bogi þitt, saurig víking skítkarl? Ja, yðart bogi, Ragnarr! Óðins skegg... Nei búinn, lítil píka? Ek várkann geirr hafa saurig arsgat þitt...

(No swords! Grab your bows. Ragnarr, where is your bow, you dirty viking bastard? Yes, your bow, Ragnarr! Odin's beard... Unready, little bitch? I pity the spear that takes your dirty !@#$%^&...)

Chuckling beneath my breath as my warriors laughed in stride, I bellowed a final command to the men as we strode through thickening crowds. The haggard and the battle-hardened, servants and soldiers whose sole purpose in life was to live and die beneath the glint of a blade. Such is the fate of all men who wage war, and upon whom war is waged: an effortless tide of conflict which none may escape for more than a brief moment of respite.

Pages: [1]