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For too long we have been the playthings of massive corporations, whose sole aim is to convert our world into a gargantuan shopping mall. Pleasantry and civility are being discarded as the worthless ephemera of a bygone age; an age when men doffed their hats at ladies, and children could be counted on to mind your Jack Russel while you took a mild and bitter in the pub.

The twinkly-eyed tobacconist, the ruddy-cheeked pub landlord and the bewhiskered teashop lady are being trampled under the mighty blandness of "drive-thru" hamburger chains. Customers are herded in and out of such places with an alarming similarity to the way the cattle used to produce the burgers are herded to the slaughterhouse. The principal victim of this blandification is Youth, whose natural propensity to shun work, peacock around the town and aggravate the constabulary has been drummed out of them. Youth is left with a sad deficiency of joie de vivre, imagination and elegance. Instead, their lives are ruled by territorial one-upmanship based on brands of plimsoll, and Youth has become little more than a walking, barely talking advertising hoarding for global conglomerates.

And what has Youth got to look forward to? The life of the lumpen officetariat consists of toiling away all day in front of computer screens, transferring swathes of dull information from one terminal to another. In their spare time, they are to be found at large halls of misery, where chemically laden beer is fed to them while they ogle sport events on larger versions of the same screens they have been staring at all day. the resulting "culture" of this state of affairs can be summed up in one word: . ...But now, a spectre is beginnining to haunt the reigning vulgaroisie: The spectre of Roleplaying. May Roleplaying save us all from certain vulgaroisie. Just remember to avoid munchkinism, the dark side is everywhere.

P.S My name is Michael and I like to draw, roleplay, paint, read, play the guitar and doff my hat at bypassing ladies.


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       By: ephemeralstability

The city of Nausopol is built on stilts. Lots of very sturdy stilts and butresses, of course, because it rises about five hundred feet from the ocean. Even the most terrific of storms is only heard in the city as a distant cacophony of blasts as waves strike the solid stonework fathoms below. It has never been attacked because of its isolation and impregnability.

It's not a place for the faint-hearted: vertigo and sea-sickness are not desirable traits. But when you are standing in the middle of the city there is no way you could tell that you were standing above an ocean, separated only by a gulf of air and a few stones.

A thousand steps lead down from Nausopol to the floating docks. These docks are pitch-coated wooden and can be raised by winches during squalls. Trade with other cities and countries is good: Nausopol is built over a sunken atoll whose minerals are still mined by divers, and it was from this that it originally derived its wealth.

But the principal method of getting to and from the city is by riding the giant sea-eagles which have been captured and bred for that very reason.

Ideas  ( Locations ) | September 24, 2002 | View | UpVote 1xp


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