The Sanctum

Welcome, traveller. This be the realm of Jay Niner, where everything be possible, and nothing ever happens. If, perchance, thou wisheth to tarry, then find thou a page from the Grimoire and read. For we are here in eternity, and we are in medias res.



The interesting thing about mornings, any and all of them, is the fact that it is a new beginning. Of and for anything whatsoever; but recently things have been very interesting. Of late, especially.
For example is the cancelled study tour. Even my own sources did not reveal much; if this is a conspiracy, it's worthy of Jason Bourne, for the following reasons:
1. No one knows where the study tour is going
2. No one knows who is going.
3. No one knows when we're going.
4. No one knows how we're going.
5. And the clincher: no one knows if we're going.

And finally, one day this week, I'll find out, after all the cancellations and all the postponing, I'll wake and find out that one message from my beloved not-yet alma mater has made its way through the haze of connectivity: "You have a study tour going to XXX-XXX, please pack your bags and assemble outside the designated buses by 7.30." And true to form the message will be received at exactly 6.30, not a moment before.
But we'll get up, grumble, and half-heartedly make our way to the buses. And wait, and wait and wait.
Of course, this is under the Improbability principle: shit may or may not happen, but it will mindfuck you in either case.
On that note, I find it necessary to maintain an altogether positive outlook, and while this is not a herculean task, it is still somewhere in the realm of possibility, perhaps just under "go to chernobyl" on my "to-do" list for the next forty years.
Still, all we have to do is cross our fingers and hope. Hope is all we have. All that Pandora didn't let out of the box, and we can hope that she's learnt better. A writer I admire for both his research and versatility has one of his characters remarking, "hope survives best at the heart. To win you must surrender as well." Thank you very much, Master Yoda.
Yes, well, we left, or at least I did, leave my hearth behind for foreign shores that promised glory and riches and power, the three things that matter to any self-respecting conquistador who searches the unknown. I thought of getting some peace at last, absolute power be damned.
Oh, yes, there's one piece of interesting news; I recently installed one of the Mount&Blade series, titled Warband. Prior to installation I was labouring under the conception that this was Neverwinter Nights with better horses; how wrong I was. It is literally Mount&Blade; you have a mount and you have a blade. Go fuck yourself.
No, it's not that bad; it's actually quite good. The sheer range of options you have is amazing; and on a fully-open world map that stretches from deserts to sea and mountains of ice, with seven or eight different cultures (all human, which was slightly disappointing, given its fantasy nature), this boasts a world without any plot whatsoever.
The only alternative to this sort of freedom I can think of is Sid Meier's Pirates!, circa 2004? I'm not sure. Except that, as the name implies, you have a ship and a bunch of pirates, and sadly, a rather annoying plot line. Like GTA San Andreas, that sort of freedom, except that even San Andreas had a very lengthy but abrupt plot. Mount&Blade has no set plotline; ah, freedom is bliss. Conquer castles, rescue princesses (or princes, depending on your character's sex) become emperors or generals, plunder and raze or nurture and grow, be a politician or a brute.
And that brings me back to the beginning; when games like these give out such freedoms, who wants real life? An interesting topic I'm going to expand on later.

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