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#10 | ||
Flame of the Ainulindalë
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Quote:
So putting my two cents to the topic. I think we have yet another possibility, which is the age-old "birthday dreamer" role. There a person picks someone fex. on N3 and gets the role that person has. That might just be enough "dreaming" to justify the parallel with the seer in the narration, and would also account for the randomness of the alignment of the role in question. But whatever the role is, it looks like it would include a possibility for change in alignment or gaining a gift, whether chosen by the person or happening on her/him. The consequences would be radically different in the two cases. Quote:
![]() I would put it in a bit more stronger terms, though. Declaring your vote to be random, you declare you are not going to stand behind your vote - and that no one should have a say in why you voted the way you did as that was "random". The point here being that "declaration of randomness" with which this sneaking away from responsibility happens. Like Legate says, even if you have very little or nothing to go on with, you always have impressions, gut feelings etc. to work with. It's only the wolves who need to come up with invented grounds for their votes. And I do think here lies a big difference between goodies and baddies. We all have these feelings of initial trust or suspicion because we don't know who is good and who is bad. But the baddies do not have them as they know things already. So whereas we can be honest with our feelings the baddies need to invent them every time they try to argue for their "suspicions" or tell about their "feelings"... (which they don't have). So accepting random-voting only aids the baddies and thus should be strongly disapproved, with the threwat of lynching I would say. Having that kind of mood around is one of the best ways to force the wolves into the open with arguments (which are by definition always false). And that is what we need to do. EDIT: Uh, did I write that post over half an hour? So X'd with a host...
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Upon the hearth the fire is red Beneath the roof there is a bed; But not yet weary are our feet... |
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