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Realpolitik

As those of you who know my in-game persona of Elostian will undoubtedly acknowledge, I enjoy talking. A lot. As such, my (long) entry into this phenomena called (we)blog will hardly come as a surprise. In fact, upon due reflection I will conclude that this form of interaction is infinitely preferable, since it saves me the trouble of constantly having to type OTO SILENCE, PUNY MORTALS!, GODCURSE (PUNY MORTAL) NOVOICE 10 DAYS and COMMAND RESPECT (from puny mortals). This should hopefully allow my uninterrupted train of thought to reach new heights of uselessness and chaos. Yes, you read those two words correctly.

Unlike my counterpart of infinite wisdom, endless knowledge and overabundant sarcasm, I am disorganised, lazy and useless. I am not even particularly smart: I have not invented the cure for cancer, I understand very little about advanced rocket science and I do not have an answer to the question if god exists. Well, actually, I do to that last one, She’s called Estarra and she speaks with The Word. Or six words actually. Dreaded words that every single volunteer administrator of Lusternia comes to know like our personal version of the Ten Commandments. Though unlike the changeable nature of the granite that the commandments had been carved into, our own version has been cast in unbreakable divine steel, forged in the Fires of Creation and hardened in the arctic recesses of the Void. Unchangeable like the very fabric of creation and inexorable like the movement of Time itself.

These words are: “No, I don’t like that.”

This will necessitate some explaining. Please bear with me as I attempt to garner some order into the rather unlikely logic underlying this article.

Contrary to popular opinion, I was not born into Godhood. In some distant, mythical past now long forgotten by anyone but myself and Eternal Estarra, I too was an Ephemeral. This is a time best left forgotten, since I already mentioned my laziness, uselessness and tendency towards disorganisation. In fact, my early days of Ephemeralhood were about as efficient as the Five-Year Plans for the National Economy of the Soviet Union. When I finally did get around to finishing my pet and moving on towards an area (this is such a grey and distant past that no one had even conceived pockets before) I brainstormed up a few ideas, sketched out a few quests of world-shattering importance and steeled myself for the Tribunal (better known as ‘Hey Estie, have a moment?’).

Three hours later, all my ideas had been met with the Commandment, completely scrapped and discarded, followed by the custom ‘you know, what if?’ and I was catapulted with the area concept that would eventually turn into Zoaka (a multi-year project that was called the Maur gorge at that time, and it wasn’t actually finished by me, but that’s an altogether different story). Since then, in my many dealings with Estarra for other projects (mostly Hallifax-related) are customarily met with the same Commandment, and it’s not just me, every Admin has been at the wrong side of the Commandment at one time or another (though, in fairness, Est’s gotten a lot better at not being quite so brutal over the years).

Why then, if all our ideas are constantly shot down by the Commandment, do we Admin persist in putting up with this Terror of the Multiverse? Is it merely that every human is a masochist at heart? Do all admin possess a Cluster C personality disorder? Or did we by some giant fluke of Karma all have a difficult childhood with a history of abuse and neglect that not even Freud would be able to put down to sexual frustration? I would argue that the answer to these questions is no (and not just because Eventru is very clearly a Cluster B personality).

“But,” I hear you thinking (yes, would you mind thinking a bit less loud?) “then surely this means that all Admin are insane?” While neither me nor any of my esteemed colleagues would deny this valuable personality trait, this is not a conclusion that may be elucidated merely on the basis of putting up with Estarra’s Commandment. While the Commandment is annoying, frustrating, terrifying and capable of driving even Morgfyre to pull at his non-existent hair with his suction cups, there are also advantages that may not be immediately apparent. After the Magnora aspect of the Eternal has thoroughly devoured the initial idea, the Dynara aspect kicks in with the counter to the Commandment, call it the Amendment if you will. This takes the form of the following four words.

“Hmm, but what if?”

The Amendment is the cue that your idea has been accepted in its basic shape and that at this point the Negotiations begin (though here it should be noted that Estarra negotiates like the British did during the early days of the Commonwealth). In all this entire process is a large part that has ensured the high standard of any type of addition to Lusternia, areas, history and events alike. And for that, every single Admin loves lusternia more than enough to occasionally put up with our private version of Chancellor Bismark’s Realpolitik.

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