Nuju Metru

Just so you guys are aware, I haven't forgotten about the Mangaia exploration. I'm reviewing submissions as we speak, and should be able to say which one I'll go with shortly.

IC: Wiremu watched Korsu as Hahli spoke. There was an imperceptible flicker in the diplomat's smile when Hahli said 'mutual protection pact;' evidently, Wiremu had not been the only one to have noticed a subtle absence of mutuality in the military protection Korsu had requested on behalf of Onu-Koro. Hahli was sharp, and had deftly pinned the negotiator with a new set of terms that he couldn't refuse without admitting his intended neglect. Korsu nodded genially to the Akiri, conceding his defeat in their unspoken game of wills. Both wore matching smiles, as mechanical a function for them as the meshing of two gears. Even using metaphors like that, Wiremu had to admit to himself that diplomacy was a machine he'd never quite understand. "Mutual protection," Korsu echoed through his smile. "Our Koros will stand together in these troubled times. Onu-Koro rejoices at its new ally, and we hope that we shall never have need of it." He stood; Hahli followed suit. They clasped hands and shook, looking each other in the eyes. "We are happy to have come to an agreement. A team of our engineers will arrive as soon as possible to refit your navy with the agreed-upon technologies; I assume we should present this augmentation order to your merchants when they arrive?" Hahli nodded. "Excellent." Wiremu and Hofi followed Korsu's example and stood. Hofi had stopped scribbling at the pad; the three Onu-Matoran nodded respectfully to Hahli. "Thank you for your hospitality," Korsu said as she waved them to the door of her hut. "Our Ussalrymatoran, no doubt, enjoyed their short stay in your beautiful Koro. I'd expect the engineers to arrive in a few weeks; merely direct them to your shipyard, and they'll take it from there. May the Great Spirit watch over you, Akiri, and goodbye!" Hahli's face was an unbroken mask even as Wiremu caught the last glance of it out of the corner of his eye. She was, he decided, very good at applying her smile, certainly more practiced in this art than Korsu was. Perhaps it was an inherent advantage; Ga-Matoran had a reputation for being the most polite, after all. Onu-Matoran, for all their skill with making things, were less subtle. The three ambassadors emerged once more into the bright Ga-Koro sun, felt the strong sea breeze, and quickly recovered the two guards that had accompanied them into the Koro. The group wove their way along the bustling lilypad squares until they reached the front gate once more. The last two Onu-Matoran were still waiting there, and they took Korsu's lead back to the Old Fusa Path. The party from Onu-Koro departed the same way they had arrived. OOC: Onu-Matoran back to Onu-Wahi. Those of you who volunteered your characters are now free to pursue your other missions. Ga-Koro may henceforth assume the technology agreed upon in the negotiations.

Notice: I will stop taking submissions for the Mangaia discovery tonight at 9:00 PST. Figure out what that means for your own timezone, and I look forward to your submissions!

IC: In the past of nowhere, one encountered the other. You are here, once again. Yes. It is as I foresaw, and as I anticipated. Yes, and it is as I expected: you are smug. I welcome you. Your return has brought me joy. You are too self-righteous to acknowledge the stirring of your spirit - what you call joy - as the relish of conquest. Have I again become your mirror? Your joy does not surprise me; you like to feel me suffer. I never like suffering, even if it is yours. No, you misunderstand: my joy is the joy of liberation. The people I love are, at last, free. Indeed, they are… free. You seem humored. Their freedom, above all else, assures me that your joy shall be as short-lived as the tide. Joy lives long in my heart, and in the sky. Joy lives only until it encounters despair. The sky, weighted by night, cannot support itself. Every setting of the sun, the sky dies at the hands of darkness, and so dies joy. Yet, the stars shine. The stars are dead. Do you believe I have reason to despair? You have more reason than even I. I sleep yet. Yes.

WANTED! Character(s) armed with: curiosityample daringa three-dimensional personaplausible reason for going into the dark heart of Mangaia Character(s) in question are needed to make a discovery. I'll only need one individual or group; troupes of travelers/rapscallions are just as good, if not better, but it'd be best for me if a single representative per group approached me about the opportunity. If interested, please submit basic character details (of yourself and, as applicable, your teammates) and your credentials for voyaging so far below the earth. I'll look at submissions until the end of the weekend. While you may request for your character(s) to emerge undamaged from these escapades, such requests will be seen as demerits on your application.

Hey, Geardirector, Remember when you read in the rules that personal conversations aren't supposed to take place in this topic, and are better off as PMs? Remember that? Because I think you should listen to it.

IC: "So," she said, clasping her hands before her like some sort of self-help Guru. "What can you tell us of this island? People, places, politics, plants, animals, customs... almost anything will do at this point." What can I tell you? First off, my head hurts. Eugch. This old lady chick, the Turaga-looking one, was getting on my nerves. Pompous, facetious, and wrinkly... She was reading my mind, too. Is reading my mind... Was reading...? I'm having verb confusion, and I'll explain. Tell the truth, it gets rather confusing to narrate this. See, if this narration is my thoughts, me telling my story, it should be in the past tense. That's our normal arrangement here. Put another way, it's like you're reading me telling you what happened, and I'm relaying how I felt about it all through such literary devices as tone, sentence structure, and comedic understatement. The normal deal, right? Right. Not right, it can't be so simple. Here's the hitch: I'll be honest and say I don't know how this story ends yet (case in point: where am I even telling it from?), so it isn't technically in the past. I'm telling it to you as it unfolds. That's how first person narration works, I know my literature. Honest, I do, don't question what I just said. So, since this is a story told by me in the present (me telling the story right now is part of the story, storyception!), I can't just relay exactly what happened like it's behind me, because it isn't - wasn't? So if these are my thoughts, she had - has - the power to be inside them. She was inside them during this part of the story, see, so it's only fitting that she's here now, in the part of the story where I'm telling the story. Namely, in the present... of the story. Which I'm telling. In my present. But your past, based on tenses. Whew. Glad I just made all that clearer. So if she's in my thoughts, she should be in my narration, because my narration is my thoughts- :I'm right here: she reminded me. Or reminds me. Tenses. Language. Gah. :Bear in mind that I can hear what you're saying about me, Grokk, and do try to be more civil.: See? Hearing her inside my head was aggravating as- :Is as aggravating: Sue corrected. :What do you keep talking to yourself in the past tense for? And stop calling me Sue, I already told you I don't like it.: How come I can't see into this chick's head? Pea-pod and String-bean seemed to have been able to converse with the great tense-confuser- :It only works one way. If you wish to converse with me, you merely need to make plain what you're thinking. You're already a very transparent mind-: By virtue of this incessant narration. It is, as we discussed above, my past tense present. I'm not at all affected by her pokes about my mental capacity- :Lies.: "Big whup, lady," I say aloud for the first time since she's come into my head. "Calling me a liar is like calling the ocean green, or scarves on a man pinktacular." It was weird; the whole time she and I talk in my head, the less aware I am of my surroundings. I was reawakened to the fact that I am on the Ta-Koro beach, with Pea-pod and String-bean- :Those are not their names: -whatever, standing around me. That freaky energy blade thingie is still making stained glass windows in the sand. I'm amongst these foreigners, and Prune Lady- :That is not my name: -wants all my information. I wouldn't tell her my Social Security number, maybe, but just about anything else to get her out of my head at this point was hers for the taking. :Thank you for your cooperation.: Karz, I hated this. "You ask a lotta big questions, Sue," I say, replying directly to her earlier query. "I frankly don't know where to begin... This is the karzforsaken island of Mata Nui, named after some deity spirit tofu-in-the-sky thing. The main residents are silly little people, who look a lot like you... Are you Toa? I can't tell, look just like 'em though. There's also foreigners here, like me, the superior races; most of us washed up here and don't talk much about our pasts. Not 'cuz I don't remember it, or some tripe. I remember it all, believe me; I just choose not to delve into it, to spite some people you can't see right now." Wink, wink. I was sort of starting to enjoy all this, and I'm sure she wasn't happy about that. :I still don't understand why you think to yourself in the past tense.: None of your beeswax. And hey, she should have let me finish, geez luweez. If you wanted to keep interjecting into my head- :I don't want to be impolite.: She already was. "Okay, that's the people, and the place... Politics, was that another thing you asked about? Politics. Politics are fun. We deal with six Koros (like, city-state things); six almost-enemy tribes of people. I'm playing that 'almost' up, myself, as I stand to profit from their discord. What else... Plants? Look behind me. None have a diet of Skakdi, so I don't pay them much mind, but I'm sure there's a host of botanical bonanzas for anybody willing to poke their noses into a leaf or seven. Animals here are mostly cute and cuddly, and love to be petted, especially the big ones-" :Lying again.: "Stop pointing that out!... Why did I say that out loud. Why am I still saying things out loud? Yeesh. Okay. Island customs... well, you're all painfully polite to each other. Just act like that everywhere else, and ya should be fine. Not lying this time, see?"

IC: "...What I would like to know is whether it would be possible to retool such a thing to propel our merchant ships and our navy quickly and more efficiently," Hahli said as Wiremu flicked through her folder. On its flax-paper pages were specifications related to the Ga-Koro fleet, though he noticed certain obviously classified figures to have been omitted. Those didn't matter to him, as all the technical information he would need was provided. "And, more importantly," Hahli went on, returning her focus to Korsu, "What you ask in return for such an upgrade." The diplomat nodded in response. "We'll delve into the technology shortly," he said, noticing Wiremu's still-moving eyes. "Regarding our demands, I can easily relay to you what my Akiri wants. Any trade strengthens our Koros' bonds of friendship - very much in line with Nuparu's wishes, of course - but in our troubling age, he would like to have more than good sentiment to rely on for the defense of our Koro. Nuparu wants your word that, should Onu-Koro be attacked, he can rely upon the aid of Ga-Koro's fighting forces and upon the use of Ga-Koro itself as a site of asylum for our people, if necessary." Hofi scribbled away as Korsu continued; Wiremu had finished with the folder, and listened to the diplomat resume presenting Onu-Koro's price. "Aside from this, Nuparu also wants larger crates of food in the future. This is merely an expansion of our previous portion of your yield, which, as you recall, was the original price for the construction of the greenhouses. We would request an increase of twelve cubic bio per shipment; a modest, but important, expansion. What do you think of these terms, Akiri?"

Rather than fill GD with uneducated guesses, let's return to the source material.

I'll probably buy one, medium. I think the image is beautiful, and ought to be about as big on the shirt as it was last year.

IC: "Indeed," Korsu smiled back. "And may our bonds of trust ever strengthen." It was a nicety Wiremu wasn't sure Korsu meant sincerely, but it was one that the little engineer neglected to comment on. He merely readjusted in the chair, a bamboo thing very unlike his engineering stool. Wiremu noticed that Hofi was looking around the hut, as if examining its structural soundness; once a miner, always a miner, Wiremu reflected. Korsu was the last of the Onu-Matoran to sit, and he gestured to the other two politely. "Before we continue, Akiri, let me please introduce my companions. To my right is Hofi; he is here as a scribe, so that our own Akiri will have an accurate recording of our conversation. Hofi will be recording what we say on that task pad of his." On cue, albeit slightly flustered, Hofi pulled out his pad and began to scrawl away at it, the little pen in his hand recording his handwriting on the screen. "He won't say a word, don't mind him. To my left is Wiremu," Korsu went on. "He's the technological consultant." Wiremu nodded politely to the Ga-Matoran, avoiding more than fleeting eye contact. He'd always been a bit shy, and he hated himself for it. "Hello, Akiri Hahli," he said, looking away. Hahli, if she was offended by his attitude, was gracious enough not to show it. Wiremu felt himself go a bit red; Korsu ignored this as he continued to speak. "Wiremu is here to tell us if what you're asking for is going to be possible; you did, after all, send a communication to Akiri Nuparu about a transaction. So," he said, leaning back in his chair and clasping his hands, "Would you prefer to discuss your side or our side of the bargain first?"

IC: "Of course, whatever would please you, Akiri, is our pleasure," Korsu nodded with a polite smile. "Lead us where you want to go. However, if I may, I would remind you that the reasons for our visit are relatively sensitive, and it may be more reasonable to conduct our meeting in a more private location." Wiremu didn't consider the reason for their journey to Ga-Koro to be all that confidential, but he reminded himself that he wasn't the diplomat here. Korsu probably wanted to sequester their dealings to somewhere private, he thought, so that Hahli wouldn't have any reason to put on airs for the people around her; it'd be more productive if she was direct with them. And, if the negotiations unexpectedly turned south, they wouldn't be surrounded by Hahli's people. Not that that would happen; it had no reason to. Korsu was, Wiremu decided, taking precautions, and he approved of that strategy. "Perhaps we could convene in your hut," Korsu suggested. "And our guards could all go feed themselves together. I'm sure that our fine Ussalrymatoran, after our long trek, would be glad of food and a little tour about Ga-Koro while we're talking. A gesture of good faith."

If you have/want an Ussalry Matoran character who isn't doing anything, feel free to assign yourself to being one of the guards in this post. First come, first serve.

IC: The small party of Onu-Matoran continued on down the Old Fusa Path in single file, brushing aside bamboo leaves in their way. Dead shoots from the plants cracked among the sandy dust underfoot, but this noise was little compared to the rustling of the stalks, which swayed here and there at the mercy of a strong sea breeze. The path, descending between two white-walled cliffs, was like a wind tunnel, and the Onu-Matoran squinted against the salty air as they strode forward. Above them, the blue sky was peppered with clouds; it was a normal, sunny day in Ga-Wahi. At the front and rear of the party were four bulky Ussalry Matoran, all lightly armed, but wary of their surroundings. They forged the path for the Matoran behind them, and made sure no threats would ambush from behind. Sandwiched between the guards were three other Onu-Matoran; a diplomat named Korsu, a surveyor named Hofi, and an engineer named Wiremu. Wiremu was easily the smallest of the party, and he was last in the line save for the Ussalry members bringing up the rear. Wiremu's goggles, intended to be used for welding, were pulled down on his face so that the lowly situated bamboo leaves that nobody else bothered to push aside wouldn't get in his eyes. His feet were tired from the long days of trekking, but his soul was the opposite; Wiremu loved seeing the island, and the knowledge that any moment Ga-Koro would come into view gave him a fresh dose of energy. Last time Wiremu had been in Ga-Koro, he'd been with Joske, that time when Joske had turned into a Toa. He realized how long ago that seemed. Wiremu held up his forearm to bat aside a stray shoot of bamboo. He could still remember Joske as an impulsive, charmingly narcissistic Ta-Matoran, an athlete with an ego like a hot air balloon. He and Joske had traveled together for a time, and Wiremu had thought of him as a friend, or enough of one, until Joske had transformed, taken off, and never seen Wiremu since. He could have at least popped by to say hello, Wiremu thought, reawakening his old resentments. But, he reminded himself, Joske had no doubt been called up by the Great Spirit to do greater things. Wiremu wasn't of the same sort of importance as Joske; Joske probably didn't have much free time, let alone time enough to visit his old companions. Not that Wiremu did, either. Ever since Nuparu had become Onu-Koro's Akiri, Wiremu had had twice as much on his plate as ever before. As an engineer, he was an important set of hands, and Nuparu used him as fully as he could. Wiremu was glad to be useful, and gladder still that he was able to be useful at the same time as he was voyaging around the island. His technical savvy was at a level with Onu-Koro's leader, so Nuparu trusted him as a liaison for these kinds of outings; Wiremu was a technological consultant, and a good one. At last, Ga-Koro came into view. At the sight of the sparkling seaside village, Wiremu pulled up his goggles and smiled. It looked just as it had the last time he had seen it, though he knew that beneath the turquoise water was hidden Ga-Koro's new system of submarine greenhouses; in her correspondences with Nuparu, Hahli had said they were functioning perfectly, and very productively. He heard Hofi pull out his task pad, and start to tap away at it, recording what he was seeing as they drew nearer. Korsu tapped Hofi on the shoulder. "Put that away," he said. "Use your memory." Wiremu knew that Hofi, a miner by trade, was new at his job; Hofi nodded to Korsu, trying to hide his embarrassment, and slid the task pad back into his bag. Korsu, as was always clear, had been Ussalry before being assigned his new rule. He wouldn't take risks. The party of Onu-Matoran descended at last into Naho Bay, and took the short walk across the beach to the gates of Ga-Koro. Korsu approached the Marines at the entrance, and after a few minutes' deliberation - they had an appointment with Akiri Hahli, which the guards verified - they were allowed into the Koro. Two of the Ussalry Matoran had to remain outside; they stayed close to the gate. Wiremu trotted along behind the others, listened to the portcullis of Ga-Koro close behind him, and soaked in the scene.

Nuparu hasn't done much yet because I've been rather busy of late in my life outside the game; what little BZP time I've been able to muster has mostly gone towards dealing with approval PMs. But things are finally slowing down, so I should be activating my Koro more in the near future. On a related note, I'd suggest not trying to pull any crimes there.

IC: After the two chicks I'd had the food fight with retreated to their submarine and sandwiched with what looked like a superior officer (submarine sandwich, heh), I wiped the coconut off myself and started to reassemble my beach chair, carefully watching the beings down the beach as I did so. I couldn't hear them, but the looks they threw up to me (which I answered with enthusiastic waving) definitely gave me the impression that I was the subject du jour. At some point, an old lady - she looked like a gnarled apricot; or in other words, looked like a Turaga - appeared, tailed by two shuffling Matoran-types who might as well have had their mouths shut for all the talking they did. Pea-pod suddenly started kowtowing herself in front of this old lady. Weirdos. By the time five of them - good ol' String-bean and Pea-pod, along with as Apricot and her seedlings - were walking up towards me through the white sand, I had settled back in my chair, as visibly relaxed as before, though my Zamor pistol (which doubles as my best friend) was hooked lazily around my finger. The sun hat hung over one of the chair's spokes, and in the open palm of my free hand was a fun little wind-up toy I had nabbed from a merchant stand in Leva Bay. It was Onu-Koro made - easy to tell, they had quality toys over there - and it looked like a crude Fusa kangaroo. You'd wind up the spring in back, and it did these itsy bitsy back flips in your hand. Needless to say, it distracted me for hours on end. I was winding the Fusa Flipper up for another bout of acrobatics when Apricot addressed me. Before I even had a chance to offer her a salutation coconut to the elderly knees, any notions of pulling this serial prank were smacked clear out of my head with the force of a well-crafted Kohlii stick to my donkey teeth. "A word with you, Grokk," she said. I almost dropped my toy. Hey, quit giggling. What? You woulda probably spazzed a lot worse if somebody you'd never met (somebody who'd had no access to your impressive reputation, either) called you by your name. But I'm adaptable; I quickly recovered my cool, and pulled my shades down my nose to look at Apricot. "Nice parlor trick. Can't say it's one I know how to do. You are?" "Tsura," Apricot smiled politely. "Tuh-sue-raa," I repeated, elongating the syllables deliberately. "Great, I'll call you Sue. Cool? Cool." I set my Flipping Fusa on my palm again, and watched it crouch slowly, then pop into a spin. Hilarity ensued. Or should I say... en-Sued. Karz, I'm good. Except I'm bad. I love being bad. And the chicks love a bad boy. But that's not the point right now. Again, the fun Fusa flipped flippantly, and I smiled jovially. Pea-pod seemed angry about my nicknaming of her grannie - that chick had serious anger problems, yeesh; attractive, I'll admit, but so not worth the trouble - and her wee fists clenched. "Hey again, Nickie!" I called to her, grinning; she gave me a forced smile in return. String-bean glanced quickly around the ground, probably looking for a mango to say hello with. "Nice gal, Nickie," I confided in Apricot with a wink. "Feisty." "Nihi," Pea-pod said under her breath. "Yeah, whatever," I agreed, before returning my attention to Apricot. "Now, Sue, what can I do you for?"

IC: It wasn't long before a few of the strange chicks noticed me; unsurprising, considering what a magnet I am for female eyes. I suppose I was even more of a sight than usual, too; with my clawed feet leisurely crossed, wide-brimmed sun hat shielding my face from the bright sky, superfluous but oh-so-essential shades propped up on my nose, I was doing everything I could to be a spectacle. I've always liked attention (no, really?), which may have been why - according to you - I felt subconsciously compelled to place my chair highly conspicuously in their line of sight. Psychoinvestigate and diagnosticate me all you want, I know you won't hit the mark. I'm an enigma, witches. I was sawing absentmindedly at the top of a coconut I'd picked up on the way to the beach with a little knife I nabbed; the straw and mini umbrella were waiting in my bag. As I prepared my tropical snack, two of the flashy-clad foreigners looked my way and, after exchanging words with a third one, started up the beach towards me. I assessed the sitch; they were weaponless, good, but the way they walked implied at least a smidge of hostility. They had haughty (and hottie) faces, like they were offended I'd decided to exist. They finally got close enough to me that we could address one another; they stood at the foot of my chair, looking down at me. "'Sup," I smiled cordially, my gold tooth bared. "Nice to see you ladies strutting on the beach, it's a great sight for these tired eyes. Hey, wouldja mind moving a tad to my left? You're blocking my sun, and I'm just desperate for a tan-" "Is this one of them, Nihi?" the first one, slightly taller than the other, asked her companion. She was pretending not to have heard me. "One of who?" I interjected. "No," the short one, who I guess I should (but won't) call Nihi replied after a pause. "No, this one's face is not known to me. But he is of their type." "What type?" I asked, quickly losing my faith in getting an answer back. "What are you-" "You are a Skakdi," String-bean (the tall one) broke in, surprisingly addressing me. She looked down her nose at me, bright eyes staring out from behind her mask. "Yes, I am," I agreed, puffing out my chest and sitting up straighter. "And not just any Skakdi, one of the handsomest, the most talented, the most dangerous-" "Do you know others of your species?" Pea-pod (Nihi) inquired. "...Yes..." I said with furrowed eyebrows. I wasn't at all sure where this line of inquiry was coming from. I was thoroughly bamboozled. "Why do you-" "How many?" Pea-pod pressed. "How many do you know?" "Dozens," I grinned. "I've got a lot of pals. None of them are as great as I am - we can all agree - but we're all strangers here, so we stick together. We have a support group, meets every-" "Then they could be anywhere," String-bean qualified. "We will keep our eyes peeled for them, Nihi. In the mean time-" They were back to addressing each other, not paying a whiff of attention to me. That bugged me. I broke String-bean off by chucking my half-sawed coconut at her chest. It broke open, the milky contents splattering all over her nice crystal armor; waste of a snack, but had to be done. String-bean took the hit, too shocked to move, and Pea-pod growled, raising her empty hands. I was just about to laugh at her stupidity - no weapons, remember? - and reach for my gun when I felt a powerful force pull me and my chair backwards, up and into the air. I was thrown into the hot sand, and Pea-pod strode closer, intent to finish the deal. The folding chair landed on my stomach. "Whoa, whoa," I croaked, the chair having winded me a bit. "Whoa, let's take a breath, chickadee, you seem to have some anger issues, I can tell, you should get that looked into, maybe get psychoinspectediagnosticanalized-" But Pea-pod had already stopped moving. String-bean, wiping the coconut off herself, was approaching her companion and giving her a significant look. Neither of them moved, but I could tell they were communicating. Some secret eye language? Dunno. At last, Pea-pod relaxed, and her shoulders eased down from her ears. String-bean came to me and offered her palm to help me up. I shoved the bamboo folding chair off myself and took her hand; she was surprisingly strong. For an instant I stood next to her, and I delighted in the few inches I had on her. Then String-bean stepped back to Pea-pod and addressed me. "I am sorry for Nihi's actions," she said. "Like me, she is not versed in the culture of your land; so, she took your action as an assault, and I am sure you intended it as only a polite greeting... Is breaking fruit on others a greeting, here?" "Why, yes," I nodded earnestly to String-bean. "Yes, and I feel ever so impolite for not having given, uh, Niki, the same salutation as I gave to you. One moment, miss." Hardly containing my chuckle, I dashed into the jungle behind me, picked up the first coconut I could find and, with a colossal windup, threw it to nail Pea-pod in the gut. But before the coconut reached her, it had reversed its trajectory, and slammed instead into my chest. I licked some of the projectile coconut juices off my face as Pea-pod smiled back at me; her eyes were cold above the teeth, though. "I greet you in the ways of your people," she said through that grin. I could tell which of the chicks was the cleverer; String-bean's delighted face was naive. "Have I done so correctly?" "Yes," I smiled, revealing all my pearlies in a convincing facade. I didn't like how she looked at me. "Welcome to Mata Nui."

IC: I guess I've always liked to see stuff to believe it. Hey now, don't you roll your eyes at me. That's hurtful, and it gives me the impression you're not taking me seriously. Besides, think about it; I'm such a liar, why would I trust anybody other than myself to gather my truth for me? Don't blame me for wanting some verification on the oddball rumors; seriously oddball, really. If you want some advice (and let's face it, advice from me is like gold), get them checked yourself. But hey, if you trust me - which you shouldn't - you can use my first-hand account as an objective source of data. I recommend not doing that; you'll start thinking everything I say is true- on the other hand, heck yeah, sure, call me the objective source here... But I digress; the stuff I'd heard was too wacky to be believed without some first-hand snooping. This found me on the beach with my sweet reclining chair. Oh, I'm getting ahead of myself, aren't I? I do that a lot. People tell me I have a problem with that. Not that I listen. I talk a lot more than I listen; listening is so boring, especially when people stay on one subject for more than a few seconds. Surprised? Oh, yeah, some of you might be new, here. Ahem, 'scuse me. If you don't know me yet, then welcome, reader. You're in for quite the ride, tagging along inside my head here. Don't mind all the wacky wall decorations, the nicknacks on the floor, or the tutu-wearing scorpions crawling around here and there; it's probably better for your sanity if you avoid thinking about all that. Focus on the external: what I see, what I'm looking at. Or, if it pleases (which I know it does), you can always look at me. I'm quite the handsome devil. Thanks for reminding me, I was doing it again. Getting off-topic. Grokk, that's me: Skakdi extraordinaire. Feats too numerous to name. So I'll move on to my interests: I love money, gambling, substances that can't be good for me, women, taunting other people, and taxidermy. And talking, if you couldn't tell. I like living easy, carefree-like, stealing what I want and killing who I'm paid to knock. It's a good life, I gotta say. We're in a bit of a dry season, contractually, but things are gonna pick up soon, I can feel it. It's like how some people know if it's gonna rain. If I was a dog, I'd be a hot dog, we can all agree; but after that, I'd probably be a "money hound." Again, I digress, sorry - not really sorry, I don't care - so I'll refocus. Whew. Calming thoughts. Swaying trees. Hanging people in swaying trees. Tutu scorpions on the ankles of hanging people in swaying trees- Okay, I'm here. Collected. On the beach. It's a nice enough day, and I've got my cool shades on, my hypermasculine satchel draped over one shoulder, a straw hat perched jauntily over my face, and a folding bamboo-and-wicker chair tucked under one arm. I had a friend - friend, no; right, hostage - design the thing for me. Handy, it was, and well made. I should never have let the little guy go. His wheelie-dealie whirry turney-wurney device broke fairly quickly after I drove it into that tree and, full of the righteous outrage of the cheated consumer, I dropkicked this Matoran off of a cliff into the ocean. Who knows where his little body washed up; I only stayed long enough to watch the fantastic splash. Got my chair. Yeah, no more, I promise. I set it down in the white sand, unfolded it, and took a reclining position midway up the beach: best seat in the house. I set my satchel down next to me, but within reach - fast draw was always a possible necessity - and tilted my hat down over my eyes, making myself appear comfortable and casual. Watching with almost as much attentiveness as I afforded shapely cloud clusters, masterful pickpockets in the act, and self-destructive tendencies in other people (oh ho, more about that one later!), I observed the scene before my eyes. There was plenty to watch, and all my wildest fantasies of strangeness were confirmed by my keen gaze. Blue and gold-armored beings, accented here and there with this flashy and totally ridiculous - but, I can admit, swagtacular - crystal armor, flocked about their beached vessel, going to and fro and in and out of it like it was an honor to be so busy all the time. People like that annoy the karz out of me. Surely you get what I mean; they bowed curtly to one another whenever they passed each other; I couldn't hear them, but I could just tell they were talking about smelling each others' feet and guessing as to the rosy aroma therein. Suckups make me sick. But they were also all women of Amazonian physique. So, staring at them through my dark lenses, I didn't much mind the formal pretension of their attitudes. Actually, their lithe figures were even accentuated when they walked by the sternness of their- Heh, you're blushing; I'm not stopping because you're uncomfortable. I'm stopping because I was about to stray from the point again. Trust me there. Back on track. Okay, the passengers aside, the craft itself was remarkable, too. Like a dead green whale, the strange ship was flopped at a slight angle in the sand, above the danger of even a high tide pulling it back into the ocean. How these people still had anything to do around their sub so long after it'd landed was beyond me. How they even got it up on the land was beyond me. But, like bees, they swarmed busily about the green submarine, exchanging remarks and comparing leaf and rock samples. I wonder what that was about. My eyes didn't stay on the leaves for very long. One of the athletic gals was walking from around the sub, and before her raised hands hovered this immense wooden carton. She wasn't touching it. I know there's a mask that does that, and I recognize enough Kanohi to notice that she wasn't wearing that mask. Freaky.

Introducing: the Living List! Considering the general technological advancement of Mata Nui since the Makuta days, I've decided that some steps forward have to be tangibly taken. I've decided to create a "Living List" of token Native Tech items or item types that may be acquired by PCs in-game from realistic places without approval. This is a new addition to the profiles rules, under the "Technology" heading. If players wish to suggest other technologies to add to the Living List, they may PM those suggestions to me with the subject line "Living List." Please note that suggested items, once submitted, will not be up for negotiation; they will receive merely a yes or no. Please read the list in the profiles topic before you submit ideas, in case your idea has already been approved. Here is my initial list. Looking forward to hearing your suggested additions! Glass lenses with various focusing/diffusing properties. These are used in telescopes, magnifying glasses, and lamps. Such lenses, usually employed in Lightstone lanterns, can also be purchased separately, as they're prone to breaking.Onu-Koronan task tablets or "iStones" with abacus, note-taking, and some document-holding possibilities. These are very difficult to open without damaging the machinery inside - they've been manufactured to break this way by the Onu-Koro engineers on purpose, so that their computing abilities remain essentially unreproducible.Basic metal tools such as hammers, axes, pickaxes, and even scissors. These items were available before, but now they're more easy to acquire; the best come from Ta-Koro.Simple clockwork devices with gears, springs, and even little bells. The most complex and expensive sort are the smaller ones, especially rudimentary, one-handed watches. Many varieties of little wind-up toys are also available, from bouncing Fusa to rolling Manas.Disk launchers have propagated, reducing the need for skill when using a bamboo disk as a weapon. Some launchers hold more disks with spring or gravity-loading magazines.Photothermic powder, also known as "Stralix Powder" after its inventor, made up of mixed lightstones and heatstones. This powder is slightly more potent than the explosion of a Madu Cabolo, and is much safer to store and use. Sharp impact, or fire, can set it off.Kites and gliders, while usually impractical, can be produced on request by the right craftspeople. Huge, delicate hang gliders are made best in Le-Koro.

If players with Onu-Koro loyal characters would please PM me those characters' profiles, I'd appreciate it.

Nuju was introduced to the game during the Locus Abeo stage, if I remember right, and also was important in the Aesetr Derrum stage, so rampant whimsy and strained relations were commonplace then. You must not have done much to keep your finger on the pulse of the game those years but I know there was constant conflict. On Abeo certain people were taking advantage of everything they had and were finagling a lot, particularly towards the end of the year, and on Derrum we had the near-disastrous phase of guilds and contesting egos. They were dark times to be sure, and as someone who was already an experienced GM during those days I could certainly feel the tension was not healthy. Were there responsible players? Of course, but we weren't all angels and I think, regrettably, that Nuju was a part of the new, impressionable crowd surrounded by ruthless veterans and it was from those experiences that he based his judgement. Indeed. I wasn't around during the "glory days" of the first BZPRPG story. I arrived during its dying throes. I didn't mean to disrespect anyone with my post, Tahakki; I was just sharing my thoughts on the general trends at the time, and the culture of the game back then. If I was criticizing anybody, it was my former self - I used to be one of the worst offenders of powers-before-personality ideal.

I've had a change of heart. I feel like a politician to be saying this, but my position on custom traits has, over the past few days, evolved. After consulting with my fellow staff, weighing the opinions of some storytellers who I greatly respect, and sensing general discontent from the player base - the last kind of feeling I want to exist in what's supposed to be a fun game - regarding my recent approval strictness, I've decided to be more lenient in approving custom powers, masks, species, and elements. If you have a custom power, mask, species, or element that was just denied, please feel free to run it by me again, and I will review it with a more generous eye. The profiles topic and the first post of this topic have been edited to reflect the changes - or, really, the lack of changes - in the rules. Several staff stances on custom approvals have reverted to where they were last year. Custom powers, masks, species and powers are fair game to be approved again. Let me justify my prior actions - the rampant, probably cruel-seeming, denials - before explaining my current position, and preface what will follow by noting that my past misgivings regarding custom powers are still pertinent to a degree, and still weigh on me as I re-open the field. My worry has always been that superficial customizations distract players from focusing on the actual character of their characters. People will tend to think of their abnormal characters as "my black-fire Toa" or "my Mark Bearer" rather than "my person with the internal scars" or "my guy torn by competing urges." It makes sense that people fixate on unusual power sets in a world already full of superheroes, but this is something I think should be avoided. Because my goal as a Game Master is to enhance the meaningfulness of characters and character interaction, I've always therefore tended to see custom traits as detrimental. My perceived link between custom abilities and inferior character should be explored. It's never been a secret that I have a general aversion to custom species and most other custom abilities. This prejudice, I believe, can be traced to my earlier days in the BZPRPG, when I suppose I subconsciously associated unique powers with cardboard personae for the first time. To say that characters back then weren't as regulated as they are today would be... a huge understatement; any of you who also played in that era, during the last few arcs of the first BZPRPG, can certainly attest to the great and dangerous liberty that was in the hands of the players. Nothing ever had to be approved; you could do essentially whatever you wanted; and, disregarding the daily chaos of the game and the ill feeling between the players at that time, the characters of that age were bland and typical, more like video game avatars with juiced-up power sets than literary characters. My experiences playing as a part of a world of characters more defined by their strength than by their personalities affected me; the experiences of my past have colored my perceptions of the present. Back then, the "game" of the BZPRPG was to push the limits of legality as far as was possible; somebody who exploited loopholes to give their character more clout was seen as admirable. When I was a normal player in this era, I was just as much a part of this culture as anyone. It was only really once I'd ascended to staff that I was able to gain some perspective on the culture and decide that, considering the nature of players at the time - sharp and sneaky, resistant to regulation - a drastic tightening of staff power needed to happen for the sake of fairness, if nothing else. I helped convince Friar Tuck of this in time for the pre-Dataclysm BZPRPG reboot, and together we started putting down the first restrictions on character powers and the like. By the time we reached our current iteration, the regulations were even higher. My mindset was always to constrain more, regulate more; I was used to dealing with a player base that was generally uncooperative, and would sniff out any opportunities to circumvent the rules and get ahead. I don't know when or why it happened, but the timbre of players in the game changed over the course of last arc. People became more responsible, more respectful, more capable. Posts became longer, and characters became known more for their personalities than their power sets. Until now, I haven't really noticed how far we've come in the right direction; I was always too preoccupied with finishing some post or another to step back and see the big picture, but now I'm doing just that. You all are a remarkable group, to be honest - there's been an unexpected, quite welcome renaissance of the BZPRPG, defined by better, more character-focused storytelling. Reprimands are few and far between; you guys have done nothing wrong. So why, so many of you pointed out, did I feel the need to punish you? I hadn't thought of my denials as punishments, though of course they must have seemed like it. From my perspective, the start of the new arc was an opportunity to pull the game further towards order, regulation. It was a chance to eliminate most of those custom angles I had always though of as the enemy of character development. Unless a custom species could totally sell me on the otherwise-unachievable character development opportunities it'd give players (a difficult question under any circumstances), I resolved not to approve it; I am, of course, a very hard sale, especially in that department. I plowed on through my stack of approvals, happy to be proactively fighting the problems I'd seen so often in the past. On the other hand, the responsible, experienced players whose custom abilities I was denying - custom masks, powers and species that'd been played perfectly reasonably last arc - felt robbed of their fairly-earned, never-abused toys. That wasn't a fair deal, and it wasn't even justified under the circumstances of the game today. It never occurred to me to think less about what was being asked to be approved than about the player that was asking. By shutting down so many approvals and stiffening the regulations on custom powers, I hindered creativity and made the game grim, all in the name of vanquishing a non-issue; for that, I'm shameful. A key part of this game, what drew me - and likely, many of you - to the BZPRPG in the first place, is the creativity inherent in its sandbox environment. To have denied so many of your ideas in the approval stage was counter-creative, the opposite of what anyone wants. For the game to run enjoyably, a balance needs to be struck between order and creativity. In this case, I overbalanced the side of order, which hurt the potential for creativity. I hope that looking at custom abilities with greater leniency will help to rectify the imbalance. Last arc was excellent; the system worked almost perfectly, and custom game elements that were approved were not noticeably abused. I have been blind to the progress this game has made of late, and I hope you will forgive me for having pursued what I, in my closed perspective, thought was right. I'd also like to thank everyone who was willing to confront me about this issue; I appreciate community feedback especially when it's negative, because such commentary lets me know what needs changing. If it ain't broke, I figure, there's no need to fix it. The game hasn't broken yet - I've never been as proud of it, in fact - so trying to fix it was just a silly thing of me to do.

Attention Players: Those of you making new characters for this season have reason to rejoice, because another option has just been added to the list of allowed species. Everyone put your hands together for the Lesterin, our new playable race! Information about them can be found in this Wiki article. Congratulations to the species' creator, Ghosthands, and thank you to everyone who demonstrated their interest in the species. I expect to see nothing less than excellent and original personalities emerge into the game thanks to this opportunity. Enjoy making your Lesterin characters!

It hasn't been completely determined. I'm going to try and pin down a rough guide, to prevent people from randomly ego-tripping or handing out self promotions, but for the moment the guard structure basically goes: Akiri > Captain of the Guard > Deputy(ies) >Just about everyone else. I think this should be the structure of every Koro's military. The last season was full of arguments and misunderstandings because there were captains, lieutenants, generals, majors, sergeants, commanders, and every rank in between, and none of them had any relevance to one another. This is much simpler, and I think will make everything easier to deal with. There's one Akiri, one Captain, two or three Deputies, and everyone else can be a Guard, a Marine, or what-have-you. please please let's make this official It's up to Akiri to decide how to structure the armed forces of their Koros. Once things settle down on the approvals front, for instance, I'll be starting to organize the Ussalry into a force with a real chain of command. But this is their domain and responsibility to manage.