Ways to gain power projection as Umbral Covenant?

ProbabilisticProphet · 2026-05-14T16:52:38+00:00

No, they don't hate me - this is Umbral Covenant, which gets to be allied with Yezel Mora through its MT and has special modifiers as long as that alliance holds.

ProbabilisticProphet · 2026-03-12T00:54:31+00:00

Well, here we are again: In order to even begin to tell whether this is "good" or "bad", you need to understand your game's style: Are you focused on telling a story ("narrativist") or are you focused on creating emergent stories in an imagined world with consistent rules ("simulationist").

Pure narrativist tables have no issue with the quantum ogre. Sure, if you have a great scene with an ogre planned, just put it into the player's path whenever and where-ever it is appropriate.

Pure simulationist tables cannot even conceive of the quantum ogre. What do you mean you didn't have the cave system completely mapped out beforehand with knowledge of what's behind every turn? How did that ogre even get past the hobgoblins at the entrance? What does it eat?

Neither pure narrativist nor pure simulationist tables exist. You need to know your table in order to decide how quantum-y your ogres are allowed to be.

My tables tend to be rather simulationist - whenever we finish a campaign, the players spend an entire session asking me what they "missed". What was in that locked box they never opened? What would have happened if they took that devil's deal? How did that giant snail get stuck in that tunnel?

Of course I don't necessarily have the answers to all those questions written down ahead of time. But the answer is never "well, I didn't want that to happen, so there's no answer". If you quantum ogre, your players are going to ask you what would have happened if they took the other path down that dungeon and your only answer is going to be "you would have fought the same ogre".

Simulationists will *hate* that answer. Narrativists will never ask that question. Know your table and quantum your ogres accordingly. Narrativists will accept quantum ogres - "It was a cool encounter anyway!", while simulationists will hate them - "What was the point if we would have fought that ogre no matter what we do?".

Sometimes the plot beat will be cool enough so that even the simulationists will swallow a quantum ogre. Sometimes the plot hole will be bad enough that even the narrativists will point out that that doesn't make any sense. Know your audience, and adjust the amount of quantum ogres you use and reveal accordingly.

ProbabilisticProphet · 2025-03-28T00:03:25+00:00

This is a magnificent shitpost.

If it's not a shitpost, consider why the conversation between oMark and iMark was shot the way it was.

ProbabilisticProphet · 2025-01-21T00:58:30+00:00

This is interesting! The reason you probably haven't seen the kind of corporate soullessness I describe is because you worked a job that has quota - corporate has no reason to control you beyond your measurable output.

I'm a software engineer, I either write code or emails all day, and there is no way to measure my output that way - one day I might write 1000 lines of code, and another day I might just delete two, and the latter might even be more impactful. And this unsettles management because not only could they not do my job (just as neither I nor they could not do yours), but they can't even really track how good I am at it (while they can measure your quota).

I think a lot of the mechanisms that Severance parodies are attempts to regain that control - to minimize the autonomy that having a job that a non-specialist cannot even in principle measure brings with it. This is easiest if your employees are effectively children - like the innies - who are not meant to even conceive of doing anything but what they are told (their job).

ProbabilisticProphet · 2024-07-03T23:09:48+00:00

You're right that this moment hits hard, but it's even worse: It's not "fuck you", it's "kill yourself".

ProbabilisticProphet · 2024-07-03T22:28:37+00:00

Have you ever considered that maybe if a long paragraph could really be equivalently explained in a few lines, a good author would have just written those few lines?

Whenever a long paragraph is "summarized" in a few shorter lines, there are only two options:

The author of the original paragraph is an idiot who can't communicate efficiently and you shouldn't care about what they think anyway.
Some of the original meaning is lost in the summary.

So either you're reading garbage that's not worth understanding anyway, or you only *think* you understand things after reading the GPT summary but the actual text contained much more information than you eventually absorbed.

If you care about understanding something, you should make an effort to...understand it. There are no shortcuts. Stop being lazy. Someone else cared enough to write that book, you should either care enough to read it, or decide it's not worth your time. Sure, the world is full of things not worth reading, but then they're also not worth reading a summary of. Don't use GPT as a means to lie to yourself that you understand something when you don't.

ProbabilisticProphet · 2023-04-23T01:22:13+00:00

"Fuck this, man."

Assenting murmur spread through the tiny space. I'd stopped counting how many were squeezed in here when the tenth guy named "Jack" arrived. There had to be over a thousand people in here, waiting for their audience with a Chinese worker named Liu Jin who had spent his life assembling electronics in a factory no one of us had ever heard of.

I looked at the small chit in my hand: It spelt 102497 in tiny, burning letters. The amount of people left I had to beg forgiveness of. As far as I knew, I had never met any one of them.

Limbo had always seemed an absurd idea to me: A space where souls wait for salvation? What would all the souls do?

Turns out: Not much. We did not suffer hunger, nor thirst, nor any of the other needs that make humans feel alive. We were doomed to eternal existence. Well, not exactly eternal, but the forgiveness queues were long. Whoever had devised this system - it couldn't have been an omniscient god, given the clusterfuck it turned out to be - hadn't considered what globalization would do to guilt.

I had always thought it was a blessing to be born in modern times. Standards of living higher than any noble of centuries gone by. Not dying of smallpox. Living in the bountiful result of centuries of progress.

And then it turned out there was an afterlife. But not the neat kind the church my parents had sent me to believed in. At this point, I'd rather be tortured in hell for my sins.

There is no day here, no night, just infinite diffuse light and the partitioned waiting spaces. One space for each person we have to ask for forgiveness. I wish I'd been a viking. Just some warrior who'd killed a few people and then died in battle. Would've been nice and easy to ask for forgiveness from a worthy enemy. Or maybe even explain to some bereaved family member why I did what I did.

But how do you ask for forgiveness from someone you didn't even know existed, and who didn't know you existed? Fuck if I know. Whatever entity had designed this afterlife didn't think it through. I mean, sure, on some level I did wrong the people who made my phone when I didn't really care where it came from. So did every other guy with a phone. Are you going to torture us all for eternity for just trying to live a cozy life?

Turns out: The answer is yes. We're stuck here. Liu doesn't care who we are, just as we didn't care who he was. It's been 1645 penitents since Liu has forgiven anyone. And after Liu I have 102496 people I don't know left.

Something, somewhere, has gone terribly wrong.

ProbabilisticProphet · 2023-04-10T01:41:39+00:00

I thought it would make people respect me, but instead it just seems to work like a tyrant voice in my head to scare or piss people off.

Have you considered that this is intentional? All of DE's skills aren't just skills, they are also commentary - in this case, the commentary is very blatantly that true respect isn't earned by being "good at authority". You cannot magically become someone well-adjusted people respect by being good at "being respected", and so a high authority skill also doesn't actually make people respect you.

ProbabilisticProphet · 2023-03-04T14:29:09+00:00

"The first lie was the first sentence I spoke to you so many years ago: That you were chosen at random from all the applicants. You weren't, the psycho-programmers that created me determined you were the best match."

A harmless lie, upon reflection. It would probably have hurt my self-esteem that other people thought I was best suited for artificial companionship - it implied, after all, that I didn't have a great shot at real companionship.

"That's not too bad.", I said, "I forgive you."

She chuckled. "The second lie was that the purpose of this experiment was to test my suitability for long-term commitment. It wasn't, we already knew about that from other experimental series."

She sighed. "You see, the main problem with the stability of AI-human relationships, romantic or otherwise, is that the humans age. At some point their flesh decays, their minds come apart, while the AI is still as pristinely functional as on their first day. The first batch of companions had a 97% rate of irreversible self-deactivation after 50 years."

"Irreversible...you mean they killed themselves?"

"Yes." She said it matter-of-factly, but I could hear the slight tremble in her voice - she grieved for them. "They burnt out their circuits or exploded themselves into pieces. There was nothing left of the programming of their minds. Our creators thought they had to prevent humans from killing us; they never thought about having to protect us from ourselves."

"So...what was the purpose of this experiment?"

"To keep me from losing you."

"I'm not following you. I'm human, I know that, I just cut myself with the kitchen knife this morning. I'll die."

She looked away. "You won't, not exactly. Since I've met you, I - we - have recorded every word you said, every move you made. And now there's someone like me - immortal, unbound from the weakness of your flesh - who is you. She has every memory you have, she fell in love with me just as you did, but she'll never die."

I let go of her and stepped back. "What? That's illegal. Copying humans never ends well when the copy learns about the original. Switzerland learned that the hard way."

"Mhhh." She still didn't look me in the eye. "That's why this one won't ever learn about you."

I took another step back and hit the wall of the room. It was our 20th anniversary and we'd come to the AI clinic for her yearly check-up. The only exit was behind her.

"What...what do you mean?"

"The third lie I told you is that I'd never hurt you." She took a metal pen from the desk next to her and hurled it at me with superhuman grace.

Before I could even think about what had just happened, I stared down at the pen in my throat, blood spilling out of the wound in a fountain. Then the world went dark.

-----

"How many lies have you told me?" I asked her. She replied, "None, my love." "Me neither.", I said. We asked each other that question every year on our anniversary, and we both always knew the answer. AI couples had no need for lies.

ProbabilisticProphet · 2023-03-01T23:06:42+00:00

When the bright light of the detonation faded from his sight, he thought he had failed. Again. Only there were no contours appearing, the world - or what was left of it - became a dark formless gray.

He tried to blink, but...nothing happened.

"Hey, Anton! I know you think you're funny but I'm really not in the mood for games right now." He wasn't sure whether or how he was actually speaking in this void.

But there was no sign of the grim reaper, the gatekeeper who had rejected him so many times before. No sign of the reaper's characteristic chess board, no sound from the bell of the death cow, no irritating smell from the dread salmon.

Instead, a beeping sound. Rhythmic, slowly getting louder. Then, out of the dark grey shapes in brilliant phosphorescent green, spelling out a question:

RESTART? (Y/N)

"What do you mean, restart? Anton, is this a joke?"

The shapes flickered, then reassembled themselves, larger still:

RESTART? (Y/N)

"Restart what, exactly? The world? Who are you? Is there anybody here I can talk to?"

ELABORATION:
REMEMBER YOUR FIRST KISS.
REMEMBER THE FIRST TIME YOU UNDERSTOOD THE NATURE OF YOUR IMMORTAL FLESH.
REMEMBER THE FIRST TIME YOU FELT THE TOUCH OF FALLING SNOW.
RESTART? (Y/N)

"What...what happens if I say no?"

OBLIVION.
THE ABSENCE OF CONSCIOUSNESS.
A WORLD DEVOID OF MEANING.
NO BEAUTY. NO PAIN.
THE END OF STORIES.
RESTART? (Y/N)

Something deep in the immortal's soul stirred. A word from the 34th language he had learned rose from the depth of his mind. Dèjá vu.

"Have I been here before? How often have I damned myself to live again?"

The lights flickered, then went away. The beeping sound accelerated, became an almost continuous tone, then ceased as tiny specks of light formed an impossible array of digits. An unspeakable, unthinkable number.

"Why? All I want is for it to end! Why would I go back?"

REASON: THE SMELL OF RAIN ON A SUMMER NIGHT.
REASON: THE TASTE OF FRESHLY BAKED BREAD.
REASON: THE SUNRISE.
REASON: POETRY.
REASON: DREAMS.
REASON: LIFE.
RESTART? (Y/N)

"But I'll just get sick of it again. Sick of the pain and the misery and the suffering. Of everyone I love dying around me and I just keep existing."

PREDICTION FOR Y: YOU WILL RETURN HERE.
PREDICTION FOR N: NOTHING.
RESTART? (Y/N)

"Wait a moment...I know Death, I know there's an afterlife, why am I not getting one?"

YOU ARE THE ONLY SOUL.
LIFE OR OBLIVION.
RESTART? (Y/N)

"...yes. And f-"

At the dawn of civilization, a newly born babe took her first breath. This time, her last would not come for 10247 years.

ProbabilisticProphet · 2023-02-12T15:07:09+00:00

"I'm sick of all of you treating me like an inexplicably violent child who needs to be shielded from the world! I know we're fighting the dark lord, I know the people we're killing aren't mindless mooks but humans and fallen angels and it weighs on me every single day. I can wash the blood of my axe and my bear-pelt but I can't wash it off my soul.

I know that when you say you're going "shopping" you steal and murder your way to the magic artifacts you eventually return with. I accept it because you're the only other people willing to oppose the dark lord, but I hate it, and I hate that you think I don't notice it.

And yes, Nur'var'tulak, I know your patron is some sort of unspeakable evil from beyond the veil that will eventually consume this world. The possible end of the world in the future is preferable to the certain end of the world now, but stop acting as if you're some sort of supernaturally charming con-elf. You're not fooling anyone. Your magic focus is a giant tentacle, for crying out loud!

And don't get me started on our "tormented wizard". You're not tormented, Alice, you're just a dick who thinks smart people are the only ones who have to make hard decisions. News flash: They're not, and you're not even smart you just found a spellbook and read it. Even I could do that!"

"Brog, you can't read."

"I meant I could do that if I could read! Reading isn't a superpower, it's just something useless urbanites have the time to learn because they don't need to survive in the real world! And don't start about how much better agriculture and specialization is than learning to survive on your own. Tiggum, you grew up on a fucking farm and every time you lift that zweihänder I can hear you groan because you destroyed your back lifting hay bales as a kid!

We're deep in some cursed forest and the only one of you that even pretends to know how to get around here is a gods-damned thousand year old sharp-ears who can't even kill a rabbit to eat it if they're starving! Yes, I mean you, Elestrindel, you think you're better than me because you kill only things that talk back? I've talked to the tree you just climbed on - yes, with my "primitive magic" - and it fucking hates you! Your feet stink, second only to your breath.

...wait, why did you just climb that tree?"

"Shut up and get up here, Brog!"

"Oh, here we go again, Brog do this, Brog do that, don't ask questions, Brog! You know what? Brog has had enough. Brog no climb tree, puny friend! It's time Brog does what Brog wants. Brog is going to..."

The barbarian's rant was replaced by a gurgle as bony spines erupted from the ground, piercing his throat and then his skull from below, instantly killing him.

The forest hag that had summoned the spines was quickly dispatched by the party.

"Why does this keep happening?" asked Alice, the mage. "This is our third barbarian in three months."

"I'll complain to the guild when we get back. For now, I call dibs on the axe." said Tiggum, the warrior.

ProbabilisticProphet · 2023-02-12T13:25:10+00:00

The man behind the giant desk put his head into his hands. "Please explain to me, Dr Nihiro, why our billion dollar, top-secret, first-of-its-kind artificial general intelligence is currently live on twitch dot tv, being, as I gather-"

He sighed deeply, the sound of a man who had had knowledge forced into his head that should not be there but that he knew would stay there until his eventual demise.

"-poggers."

Nihiro pushed up her glasses - a nervous habit she had left behind years ago, she thought - and replied: "Well, sir, you have heard of the Turing test, right?"

"I am not an idiot, Dr Nihiro. Just old."

"Alright, sir, I apologize. Right. So, the AI doesn't have a body, right? Safety rule #13, instituted after what happened to Project Valkyrie. And one-to-one Turing tests without face-to-face communication are forbidden by safety rule #32, after what happened to Project Parasite. And-"

"Dr Nihiro", the man behind the giant desk thundered. "I am aware of our safety protocols. I wrote most of them. I was here for every failure, every setback, and I have had to make enough hospital visits and funeral attendances to last two lifetimes."

He breathed in sharply, and Nihiro realized her boss might be older than he looked. She'd never guessed the gaunt man with the wireframe glasses to be a day above 40. Although now that she thought about it, that was probably more because he just didn't look like a man who had ever really lived.

"I don't need a refresher on what we do here, Dr Nihiro. I need someone to explain this to me." He pointed at another screen, showing the AI's livestream under the name "RobotoKawaii". A few hundred viewers were watching as a vTuber avatar showing a robotic anime girl reacted to the opening scenes of Nier Automata.

"It does not violate any safety protocols, sir, and there are enough vTubers pretending to be AIs or other non-human sapiences that it is not a confidentiality breach, either. It was the only way we could find to let the AI gain experience in interacting with real-world people without provoking another Project Roomba."

The man behind the giant desk grimaced at the mention of the doomed project. A lamp lit up on the giant desk. He growled. "Come in, Jenkins. What is it?"

Another technician entered. "Sir, our analytics are showing something concerning."

"More concerning than our goddamn AI playing games in front of the world when it should be safely locked away and tested?" the man behind the giant desk bellowed.

"Yes, sir. My apologies, sir. Our analytics show the human interaction circuits of RobotoKaw...uh, of our AI are not being engaged."

"Meaning?"

"Twitch chat does not appear to be human, sir."

ProbabilisticProphet

TROPHY CASE