#290 words

[datsderbunnyblog]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Tiny little vetvimes ficlet for you. I wrote this at 3am when I couldn't sleep, in a time-honoured AO3 tradition. Enjoy!

[oldtumblhurgoyf]

2. You are instructed to move an ability from one color to another. This ability must be something used in every set (i.e. discard, direct damage, card drawing etc.). You may not choose an ability that has already been color shifted by R&D. What ability do you shift and to what color do you shift it? Explain why you would make that shift.

I would move discard to red.

Flavorfully, red doesn't think about or prepare for the future and quite frankly, it doesn't think you should either. Thinking about what to cast next? Red knocks youupside the head and clears those thoughts right out. Don't think, just do. Never mind that it got rid of what you were just about to do.

Red suffers in the hand advantage department because it doesn't have great draw effects. Giving red discard gives it a way to mess with card advantage beyond just destroying stuff that has already hit the board. Red already has Wheel of Fortune effects; this expands it to punishing discard that doesn't get replaced. As far as red is concerned, it's making the playing field even. Pit it against blue, and red will do its best with this new ability to at least negate blue's card draw, forcing decisions about what to keep and maintaining card parity if not netting advantage.

Red is all about smashing face, and this lets red's punches to the opposing player make their head fuzzy. It's direct damage but to the player's hand instead of their life total. It's red saying, “Stop making plans. Just draw the next card you get and play it, like me!” Discard in red helps it make opponents play on its terms. It might mean getting rid of what would be a threat via forcing it to be discarded, and often means everyone is looking at their next draw to get an edge because nothing is in hand. Discard feels like a very natural extension of red's slice and encourages the sort of game play red is all about; hit 'em hard and don't give them time to think.

[twowug]

Language as a Weapon

I just saw a great zombie movie called Pontypool. It's very thought-provoking. The zombie virus spreads not through physical contamination, but through words. The entire concept is so fresh and interesting I found my eyes glued to the screen.

Certain words are 'infected' by a virus, and if people hear/see/utter an infected word, it gets into their minds. The virus compels them to think about the word, and they say it over and over and over, and eventually the word begins to lose its meaning. I looked up the linguistic term for this--semantic satiation. Eventually, infected people lose their sense of language and become zombies, babbling nonsense words over and over and over again, seeking out other words (and victims) like a satellite.

Around the midpoint of the movie, the main characters figure out that only the English language is affected. They theorize the virus was created by French-speaking Canadians as a terrorist attack against English-speaking Canadians. (The movie takes place in Canada.) This brings to mind some of the language friction we've talked about in the World Englishes course.

The movie also makes one question whether mass communication is harmful or helpful. The main character, Mazzy, is torn between staying silent or continuing his radio broadcast to get the word out about the virus (risking the chance to succumb to the virus himself or spread it further to others). The movie never pinpoints the origin of the virus, but it is heavily implied that Mazzy's radio broadcast from the previous day is the unintended culprit. This could be a metaphor, implying that mass messaging (particularly propaganda) is like a virus.

Turning language into a weapon--as a terrorist attack, propaganda, or whatever--is a scary concept.

[aspirewriter]

Monument

No one could take responsibility for its creation or its sudden appearance.

However, as hours passed, children began to climb on it. The sun didn’t shine so brightly, and the metal wasn’t hot.

Days passed and people began to pass by it just like they did with a new store or attraction, sparing it a few glances now and then before walking towards their destination.

A few couples carved their initials in it.

Grass grew around it.

Everyone gathered around it once more when a graffiti word was discovered, brazenly sprayed on its front.

Gradually more and more paintings appeared on the monument, and the weather chipped and scratched its varnish until its crevices wore off.

And then it fell over.

The next day it vanished. People couldn’t explain who or how it was taken away.

The day after that, a new one was in its place, shining in the sunny day.

Soon afterwards its perfection was broken by a scratch and a dent.

Children converted it into their playground, and so did casual artists. One of its wings was taken off by a car.

The bronze chipped off and rust crawled over it.

It fell over and took down a signpost. The next day, it was replaced by something the same shape, yet it was gold.

It took no chip or wear or scratch.

It resisted paint and marker and any sort of pen or brush.

The children climbed all over it.

Rust did not overtake it.

And in the end, the people respected their monument. 

[tonks-patronus]