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What do you love in Tolkien's stories, and in a MUD?

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What do you love in Tolkien's stories, and in a MUD?

Postby jimhabegger » Sun Jun 22, 2014 9:23 pm

Pondering what I was hoping to find here, I realized that what I love most in Tolkien's stories is not Tolkien's world. What I love most is the characters, and their stories, and I might love them just as much, if they were told in a science fiction setting, a historical or futuristic setting, or even a modern world setting. What I love above all is the fellowship and the love. I also love the exploring, the adventure, the romance, and the escape from danger. There might be more than that, but that's what comes to my mind now. I might prefer a fantasy setting over other kinds of settings, and possibly Tolkien's world above all others besides the world of L. Frank Baum, but I don't think I would play any game, just for that.

This will be my first time playing in a MUD, but at this point it looks like what I was hoping to find here, is what I found in a few rare and brief moments in another RPI game, characters that I like and admire who have an enduring friendly interest in my character.

What do you love in Tolkien's stories, and in a MUD?
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Re: What do you love in Tolkien's stories, and in a MUD?

Postby jimhabegger » Sun Jun 22, 2014 9:51 pm

I'm still struggling to pin down what I was hoping to find in a MUD. Something like rich, evolving friendships and fellowships, immersed in the kinds of stories that I love, in a make-believe world.

Besides what I was hoping to find, now I also want to be able to give my character the same aims and purposes in life that I have.
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Re: What do you love in Tolkien's stories, and in a MUD?

Postby EltanimRas » Sun Jun 22, 2014 10:30 pm

Aesk, on love & friendship, wrote:A bronze-skinned, green-eyed young man tells you in Westron, "But those are the mysteries of the great exchange...others' burdens are lighter."

You murmur in Westron, smiling curiously at a bronze-skinned, green-eyed young man, lacing her fingers together in her lap, "The great exchange?"

A bronze-skinned, green-eyed young man tells you in Westron, "Well, not many folk care to think hard on such things, but we actually live our lives in each. That is why is wrong to seek your own gain at the expense of another, but very good to seek the well-being of another at a even a dear cost to your self. Our very life is in this exchange."

A bronze-skinned, green-eyed young man tells you in Westron, "That is also why when I carry my own woes they weigh down on me like a mountain of ore, but when a friend lifts them, they are light as a feathered arrow for them."

You murmur in Westron, glancing down, unlacing and relacing her fingers before looking back to a bronze-skinned, green-eyed young man, "Ah, well. ... Do you have many friends in the city, Mister Aesk?"

A bronze-skinned, green-eyed young man tells you in Westron, wincing slightly, "Many? No, not many. Friend...is a potent word."

You murmur in Westron, pausing, letting her eyes close for a moment before she nods in reply, "It is, isn't it? I ... I'm still learning what it means, I think."

You thought: I'm still hoping it means something.

A bronze-skinned, green-eyed young man tells you in Westron, blinking and looking you in the eye, "Tell me what you have learned."

You murmur in Westron, running the tip of her tongue over her upper lip before she answers, returning a bronze-skinned, green-eyed young man's gaze, "I've been told that a friend is no less a friend because one keeps a secret from them."

A bronze-skinned, green-eyed young man tells you in Westron, nodding sagely, "That is true, a friend will trust and think the best of the intentions of the other. Even if there is wrong done, friendship acts as the sun evaporating the dew by the next morning."

A bronze-skinned, green-eyed young man's eyes scan the face of you.

You thought: (echoing her companion's words to herself) 'The sun evaporating the dew by the next morning.' Forgiveness, you mean.

You murmur in Westron, her gaze clouded - doubtful, perhaps, or worried, "I am told that friendship eases loneliness, but does not cure it."

A bronze-skinned, green-eyed young man tells you in Westron, taking in a deep slow breath and sighing out his response, "Aye, eases. Only one thing cures."

You murmur in Westron, her brow lifting, though the gaze she rests on a bronze-skinned, green-eyed young man is clearly doubtful now, "One thing cures, Mister Aesk?"

A bronze-skinned, green-eyed young man tells you in Westron, "The greatest exchange of all...love."

A bronze-skinned, green-eyed young man lifts his eyes then drops them to look at his hands on the table in front of him.

You murmur in Westron, her expression falling, doubt shading into something like disappointment, even sorrow, "Oh."

You thought: Lirana, Taleryn.

A bronze-skinned, green-eyed young man tells you in Westron, "But why do you look as if I just spoke of death? Love can be a tyrant, but she is beautiful."

A slight, dark-haired lass lifts a hand to her hair, pulling a section forward over her shoulder, smoothing it out there before returning her hand to her lap.

You murmur in Westron, answering a bronze-skinned, green-eyed young man softly, simply, "I was thinking of death."

You thought: Of the dead. Were you not?

A bronze-skinned, green-eyed young man's brow wrinkles into a troubled expression.

A slight, dark-haired lass dips her head to a bronze-skinned, green-eyed young man, the gesture vaguely apologetic.

A bronze-skinned, green-eyed young man tells you in Westron, leaning forward across the table toward a slight, dark-haired lass and gesturing with an open hand, "Pass this thing to me that is troubling you, dear one."

You murmur in Westron, exhaling softly before she smiles to a bronze-skinned, green-eyed young man, "I have missed you, Mister Aesk. But tell me, perhaps, something you know of friendship?"

You thought: It seems for a moment - with that gesture of kindness, even if know not how to accept it - not so sad a substitute for love as one might think.

A bronze-skinned, green-eyed young man swallows.

A bronze-skinned, green-eyed young man tells you in Westron, "I know that sticking to a friend in trouble is the stuff of heroes. I know also that there is little else more important than making and keeping promises...all of them, big or small, because friendship has to be nurtured like a tiny seedling."

A slight, dark-haired lass nods slowly, soberly.

You thought: What have I promised? That I had 'no tale to tell', I know, but ... anything beyond that?

A bronze-skinned, green-eyed young man tells you in Westron, "Friendship grows with trust, and trust is woven into both the warp and woof of life, like all good weavers teach."

You murmur in Westron, her features touched by a soft smile, though it does not reach her eyes, "But there is forgiveness in a friendship betrayed, yet? The dew evaporating in the morning sun?"

A bronze-skinned, green-eyed young man tells you in Westron, blinking earnestly as he looks into the face of a slight, dark-haired lass, "Aye. And what is more, Friendship is particular, there is no such thing as abstract friendship or love of humanity in general without loving this particular person, with all the messiness that entails, including forgiveness."

[etc.]


The old SoI -- which this log is from -- had less flexible emote and speech code than this new one does, which is why almost every line has the same basic structure. You'll see a lot more variety if you play now.

Also, I was originally thinking of posting a sampler of short snippets from lots of different characters and friendships, but this first "snippet" came out way too long already. Oops.
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Re: What do you love in Tolkien's stories, and in a MUD?

Postby jimhabegger » Sun Jun 22, 2014 10:33 pm

Good work Eltanim! Thank you!
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Re: What do you love in Tolkien's stories, and in a MUD?

Postby EltanimRas » Sun Jun 22, 2014 10:42 pm

Well, if you're going to encourage me ... Here's an actual short snippet.

Marlowe wrote:A bald man with green eyes and a scar tells you in Westron, still pointedly not answering the question, "Ever since we first started talking in these hidden-truth laden innuendos, I've spent some effort thinking about secrets. And I think they are nothing if not vulnerabilities- the only things worth hiding are those that can hurt us. But I suppose that's fairly obvious, isn't it..."

You thought: My foolish longing for moment of truth, that connection.

A bald man with green eyes and a scar tells you in Westron, continuing, watching a scantly-built, smoky-grey-cloaked person as they continue to walk, "What is more interesting - more pertinent, perhaps - is how any one person doles out their secrets. The persons and manner by which implicit trust is exchanged. That is... Well, it's bloody interesting."

You thought: That's none of your business.

Or two.

Tennet wrote:The typically-built, midnight blue-masked person says in Westron, in quiet agreement as his gaze dances away before returning, "It does. Do you know... well, I'm hardly unique in this. You say friends, we are. There is something... missing, Mairi."

You ask the typically-built, midnight blue-masked person in Westron, her tone mild, but by no means uninterested, "Oh?"

You thought: There always is, but ... what is it you have in mind?

The typically-built, midnight blue-masked person tells you in Westron, his words both clinical and somehow deeply personal, "By and large... Men are selfish creatures, Mairi, and that self is in the heart of everything we do. We cherish our friendships because they give us a sense of worth... they give us a sense of being trusted, depended upon. And we value that."

A slight, dark-haired lass sits back, observing the typically-built, midnight blue-masked person expectantly, waiting.

You thought: And ...?

The typically-built, midnight blue-masked person tells you in Westron, shaking his head, "It is why I asked you earlier, why? Because I do not find that in you, in whatever it is that we share. You depend on me for nothing... you trust in me for nothing. What am I, save for a curious distraction? I don't know."

You ask the typically-built, midnight blue-masked person in Westron, a wry smile touching her features, "Could I not say the same of you?"

The typically-built, midnight blue-masked person says in Westron, considering, as he tilts his head to one side, "Could you? I speak to you, my fears and the my terrors, the shattered state of mind... things no sane man ought to tell, that most insane men would be wise enough to keep to themselves. As if you were my mother, and your affection for me, interest in my well being, assured. I have shown you my place of sanctuary and released you into the world. In a real way, I depend on you for my very life... I trust in you to see it protected."
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Re: What do you love in Tolkien's stories, and in a MUD?

Postby Hawkwind » Sun Jun 22, 2014 10:46 pm

You always have the most interesting logs, EltanimRas.
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Re: What do you love in Tolkien's stories, and in a MUD?

Postby EltanimRas » Sun Jun 22, 2014 11:55 pm

I have a ton of awesome stuff that I can't find anymore, because it's buried in junk. It's under there somewhere. :?

Vrai wrote:A tall, stormy-eyed man murmurs in Atliduk, answering a willowy, flaxen-haired young woman quietly but levelly, "Your priorities are different than mine... or perhaps your heart is more open. Cailyn is such a person; she thrives when she is surrounded by those she can give to, and receive from. I value fellowship greatly, when it comes, but that is not the center of my world, Ardiana."

You murmur in Atliduk, "What is?"

You thought: Again I ask.

You thought: And Cailyn ... Cailyn says she has not -thrived- in many years.

A tall, stormy-eyed man murmurs in Atliduk, the word given quietly after a long pause, as his arms again lower from their press against a thick, green wool tunic to hang at his sides, "...magic."

You murmur in Atliduk, echoing softly, letting the word hang, "Magic."

A tall, stormy-eyed man murmurs in Atliduk, his chin lifting slightly for a moment, before his features turn placid even as he points northward, toward the distant mountain range, "What do you see, when you look that way?"

A willowy, flaxen-haired young woman turns to look where a tall, stormy-eyed man points, lifting her gaze to the distant peaks.

You murmur in Atliduk, quietly, still looking off into the distance, "I can give no answer beyond the obvious, Vrai."

You thought: And I know not why you ask. Though it was the only direction you did not ... object to, earlier.

A tall, stormy-eyed man murmurs in Atliduk, pivoting to fully face a willowy, flaxen-haired young woman as he murmurs quietly in turn, "I can. Not now, but... there have been times when I've sensed something else, something different. And when I glance at you I see pale skin, pale eyes, pale hair... but when I truly -look- at you, Ardiana, I see something else. The elves call it the Unseen World. There is a less pleasant name for it in the East. When I truly -see- you, or the thing in the north, or even Tatyanae as she calls forth her song - that is beauty beyond comparison. That is what opens -my- heart."
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Re: What do you love in Tolkien's stories, and in a MUD?

Postby tehkory » Mon Jun 23, 2014 1:09 am

A momentary shred of background: Once, in payment for a task, Leoht, a cowardly scout, earned ten questions, one song, and three tales from Vrai, a rather mysterious and dangerous figure. By this point he had only five questions remaining.

Tentatively titled:
If I told you, I'd have to kill you, Mr. Leoht


A tall, stormy-eyed man tells you in Atliduk, gaze straying to a
fair-skinned, curly-blond haired man abruptly, before he calls toward the
man,

"Mister Leoht. I have a question concerning the Wardenry."
You tell a tall, stormy-eyed man in Westron, nervously, needlessly, and fruitlessly fiddling with the cuffs of a heavy midnight-black, wide-collared, wyrm-emblemed overcoat before he begins to step over,
"And I may have an answer."

A tall, stormy-eyed man pushes back the chair opposite his own at a
round table covered by a clean red tablecloth with a booted foot, his gaze
lingering openly, musingly, upon your approaching form. His own
expression, however, is also touched with lingering fatigue.

You sit at a round table covered by a clean red tablecloth, pulling out the chair a tad, subtly peering under the table before he takes a seat.

A tall, stormy-eyed man murmurs in Atliduk, speaking quietly across a
round table covered by a clean red tablecloth's expanse to a fair-skinned,
curly-blond haired man as the other man sits,
"Two questions, Mister Leoht. The first: who instituted the rule that
newcomers were to be questioned? I find it a very good rule, as it
happens, but I am wondering how it came to be. My second: will that rule
remain in effect even with Caraneleth's departure?"


You thought: (not even noticing the instinctual need to ensure his surroundings
are safe)


You murmur in Atliduk, with a faint shake of his head, features doubtful as he switches tongues,
"Up until this conversation, I'd've considered it unlikely to continue.
It was not even in effect while Caraneleth was still here, in fact--But
I do agree. A very good rule. I'll be doing my best to ensure it remains
in effect myself. But it's up to others, and I don't know enough of
Eothelm to see if he considers it as essential to this town's safety as
he does the war effort. He seems a warleader, not a peace keeper."


A tall, stormy-eyed man murmurs in Atliduk, muted unease touching his
features, his reply given to a fair-skinned, curly-blond haired man
belatedly, after he shifts slightly in his chair,
"It -is- an essential part of this town's safety."

You thought: Maybe that's what we needed. What am I? What am I doing this for?
Peacekeeper? Trainer? Simple mercenary? If I was to be doing it anyway, I might
as well gain prestige, authority, and coin while I do it? So unlike me, it
feels. Have I always longed for it so?

You murmur in Atliduk, with a short, quick nod, his bare smile fading swiftly,
"Hence why I remarked on it in that way. Eothelm has taken a lead, but--I
suppose if I have to, I could go up to the Heafodman Dreodin. I'll I
think--Mmm. It'll be done. If I end up having to do this, what questions
would you put to Outsiders, then?"


A tall, stormy-eyed man murmurs in Atliduk, that muted unease still
lingering in his features as he replies quietly, levelly, to a fair-skinned,
curly-blond haired man,
"Their names. Where they're from. Their business in town. And each Dreng
needs to be watchful of newcomers, especially ones asking questions.
This is very important, Leoht."


You murmur in Atliduk, glancing aside to those gathered at a cozy river-rock and clay fireplace, then back to a tall, stormy-eyed man, a wry look coming on his features,
"Consider me on it. If that means you consider it done, so be it--If that
means you feel the need to hunt another man down, so be it as well."

You thought: I spend my time lecturing people not to call me Thain--That I have
no purpose inside these walls--then Vrai comes and turns all this upside down.

A tall, stormy-eyed man murmurs in Atliduk, gaze fixed unwaveringly upon
a fair-skinned, curly-blond haired man now, his answer given as if he had
not heard, or acknowledged, the man's last words,
"Anyone that asks too many questions should be held with suspicion. And
-- this is most important -- newcomers that manage to arouse the
Wardenry's suspicions should be searched before leaving the town, either
by gate or boat."


You murmur in Atliduk, nodding but once, unease overtaking exhausting and wryness on the man's features,
"It'll be done, Vrai. Five questions. What's this really about? Four
questions, now."


A tall, stormy-eyed man murmurs in Atliduk, very quietly, rather flatly,
"Come with me."

You thought: How you must hate these questions.

OOC: Rolling vs. wil... you pass.


You get up from a round table covered by a clean red tablecloth, a momentary smile twitching over his lips as he rises.

You begin following a tall, stormy-eyed man.

A tall, stormy-eyed man turns mutely, somewhat stiffly, and makes his way
out of the Inn's common room.

You thought: Respect the gravity of the situation, Leoht.

A tall, stormy-eyed man steps out of the inn into the street outside.
A Four-Way Intersection at the Boar's Head Tavern
Exits: north east south west

This main thoroughfare of town sits intersecting four major
roads that lead off in the cardinal directions towards the low
stone walls of the village. Set at the preeminent spot of this
haphazard town center is the Orrs' Boar's Head Inn, its oft
puffing chimney filling the square with the scent of mead and ale
and the sounds of gossip and gambling at all hours. A large,
brightly painted green front door depicts a fierce, tusk-faced
boar's head, where one could surely enter the inn or
stand back and get a better view of the structure.


The air here carries the subtle aroma of impending rain.

A solid granite bench has been set here.
A huge bell of beaten iron has been suspended here, held aloft by two sturdy
wooden legs.
A plain wooden barrel is here next to a huge, raised bell of beaten
iron, marked "EMERGENCY".
An armored footman stands here calling out patrol status.

A tall, stormy-eyed man murmurs in Westron, voice pitched very quietly
aside to a fair-skinned, curly-blond haired man as he starts westward
across the square,
"I promised you answers, and answers I will give. Please consider these
two facts first, however, Mister Leoht. First: to answer your question,
I would be forced to betray a confidence that might well harm Caolafon.
Second: in order to keep that confidence, and not falter in the promise
I gave you, I would be forced to seriously consider killing you."


A tall, stormy-eyed man begins slowly walking westward.
You begin slowly walking westward, with short, quick steps.

You murmur in Atliduk, steps slowing as he eyes a tall, stormy-eyed man, features rather disturbed now, though his voice remains level,
"And here I was about to thank you for teaching me a little fearlessness.
I suppose that's an offer to retract the question?"

You thought: Well, shit. Might hate it a bit more than I suspected.

A tall, stormy-eyed man murmurs in Atliduk, steps slowing belatedly, before
he pivots to regard a fair-skinned, curly-blond haired man, his reply given
quietly but levelly,
"Yes."

You murmur in Atliduk, eying a tall, stormy-eyed man, features unchanged before he nods, once,
"Five questions. Would you kill me to keep that confidence, or are you
going to anyway? Four questions."


A tall, stormy-eyed man murmurs in Atliduk, answering a fair-skinned,
curly-blond haired man quietly, bluntly, as his arms fold over a thick,
green wool tunic,
"I will not kill you -- or anyone -- unless I feel as though there are no
other palatable choices. Violence is a blunt, coarse, and often
ineffective tool. You are a clever man, Mister Leoht, and a potential
aid to Caolafon; I have no reason to see such resources doused. But if
you demand an answer to the question you asked before, I will kill you."

You thought: Who would you kill for, Vrai?

You murmur in Atliduk, nodding but once, smiling thinly but without much humor,
"Threats are much more subtle. Good to know I'm in safe hands. Four
questions it will remain, then. Considering this is enough to kill for,
I won't press it. I prefer to remain living. Consider me on it, and
consider it done."

You thought: Saviira? Cailyn? Greywing? Mm. What is this about, Vrai? Which
strangers--Ahah. Narrow the question down, and the answer may come out.

A tall, stormy-eyed man murmurs in Atliduk, clearing his throat before
venturing quietly back,
"Mister Leoht? Some unasked-for advice: inquisitiveness concerning this
question, even if not directed toward me in particular, may be nearly as
dangerous for you as a direct request. If your curiosity threatens to
get the better of you, come to me first and swear a binding oath of
secrecy -- and then I will answer your question without harming you.
Otherwise, stay clear of my business."

You murmur in Atliduk, with a wry shake of his head,
"I'll trust your better judgement, for now. This is on your head, not
mine. Consider even this sworn to secrecy."

A tall, stormy-eyed man tells you in Atliduk, answering quietly, simply, in
what is perhaps no true answer at all, before turning away westward,
"Good night, Mister Leoht."

You thought: That man is a terror.

A tall, stormy-eyed man begins walking westward.
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Re: What do you love in Tolkien's stories, and in a MUD?

Postby EltanimRas » Mon Jun 23, 2014 2:27 am

Leoht wrote:You thought: That man is a terror.

:lol:

Did Leoht feel any differently about Caolafon Vrai? Did he ever use all his questions? What was the best question he never asked? Did I show you my 'pyschic bolt' log?

Should I not be derailing this thread?

p.s. I'm sure I have a Leoht-on-love-and-friendship log around here somewhere.
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Re: What do you love in Tolkien's stories, and in a MUD?

Postby jimhabegger » Mon Jun 23, 2014 2:44 am

I like this way of answering the question.

Now I'm thinking of asking people to post their favorite passages from the Tolkien's stories, here, or in a new thread. The first passage that comes to my mind, not necessarily my favorite, is the conversation between Frodo and Gandalf, about Gollum deserving to die.

I've thought for a long time that the part of the stories that I would most like to read again are in Frodo's journey to Buckland, and while he and his companions were there.
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Re: What do you love in Tolkien's stories, and in a MUD?

Postby jimhabegger » Mon Jun 23, 2014 2:46 am

Eltanim, I don't see you derailing this thread at all. I see you going right to the heart of it.
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Re: What do you love in Tolkien's stories, and in a MUD?

Postby Letters » Mon Jun 23, 2014 4:34 am

The characters themselves, and the stories of adventure, intrigue, or outright absurdity that they tend to generate, that some of us still remember years later.

I think the ones that I've had a hand in that people remember best fall at least somewhat into the latter category, though. :?
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