Comedies & Tragedies
Two thoughts today, one happy, one sad.
First, the strange case of Ansar Mahmood, intrepid pizza delivery man, who has just been deported. Yes, Mahmood was in the country legally, from Pakistan. So what wuz Mahmood's crime? Apparently, he was taking pictures in the wrong place shortly after September 11th. So the local police threw 'im in the brig. Sure, whatever, mistakes were made, minor note, right? Well, for whatever reason, the cops decided that they had a big-time criminal on their hands, and decided to see if they couldn't find something to pin on him. What was it?
Wait for it.
Apparently... he helped people get a job and an apartment. Except those people had expired visas. Qué horror!
Now, if you're helping terrorists get an apartment, that's one thing, although you then have the issue of "Well, I thought he just took his faith seriously, didn't imagine he'd be a terrorist, etc." But these two other people have never been accused or charged with terrorism. So they're just some guys. And Mr. Mahmood says he didn't know they had expired visas- like it's his job to check.
I can't wait to see where this line of thinking goes next. "You! 7-11 guy! You sold a slurpee to a guy with an expired visa! What, do you just hate America or something, helping illegals use services & spend money? And what was that guard at the State of Liberty thinking, when he let that expired visa man to read the poem at the bottom! Deport the people there, too!"
The law against "harboring illegal aliens" I always imagined as the excuse for prosecuting "the middleman on the smuggling route from Mexico who keeps 50 illegals hidden in his cabinet." In a case like that, you're part of the smuggling enterprise, and definitely know these people are illegal immigrants. Merely helping some fellow immigrants find jobs & apartments?! When, prima facia, they're legal, since I'm going to assume that at one time their visas hadn't expired? Even still, he got something like "probation" as the penalty, but apparently that's enough to deport him, according to the INS! Rules are rules, and all... nice to know we are now safe from helpful pizza delivery men.
---
So Scattercat linked me to some random amusing thread on the RPG.net forums, which I had noticed on that big list of top forums I posted earlier. Anyway, the site also had a review of Ebberon, WotC's latest d20 setting. When I had first read about it (a long time ago; haven't really been following RPGs since), it seemed straight up steampunk, which as a genre I think is super-duper-neato; but the reviewer was rather underwhelmed by it, and it was less steampunk than "mishmash." That's neither here nor there, though; of import is one odd feature the reviewer noted that Ebberon included... the Warforged.
So, uh, Warforged are basically terminators. And playable as 1st level characters (never mind that Golems in D&D tend to be matches for parties of 9th level and up). And they can be made of, at 1st level, even better materials than standard D&D Golems (Iron Golems are beatings and a half; you have first level PCs made out of adamantium). The reviewer made some sarcastic comments about the hypothetical 1st level Warforged PC who they let die, but lives on thanks to all the neat weapons & armor they made from his corpse. Or even just pressuring him to sell of a few unneeded body parts for cash.
You know, this could actually be really neat, if the campaign setting acknowledges this is true (they probably won't). Warforged members of society are literally worth more dead than alive, which is powerfully depressing. I mean, compare the amount of money nice weapons cost (3,000 gp+) to the amount of money an average civilian makes in a day (1 gp). I'm thinking Death of a Salesman here. This is dramatic stuff, people.
~Death of a Warforged~
A Tragedy in Three Acts
Mom: "Dear! Your left arm!"
Dad: "I know, I know! It's okay... you know I've been thinking about it for awhile..."
M: "My business just needs a bit more time, that's all! We'll be making money soon enough! You didn't need to go that far..."
D: "Well, the haul was bad again. Competition with the Moolian ore mines and all covering our shortfall, keeping prices low... I don't know what world the kids will grow up in."
M: "But... the replacement... it looks so flimsy! What is that, clay? It'll break in a year! Especially with all that work you do..."
D: "It has to go on. Besides, it's for the children..."
One year later
*clank clank*. Heavy footsteps. Sound of a door opening.
M: "Hmm? That noise? Home from work early, my lo- oh my! What happened?!"
D: "Oh, we all evacuated in time. Accident at the mine- you know they always send us in for the dangerous stuff, thanks to our strength. But the replacement arm..."
M: "There's no way you can use that anymore! If only my business hadn't been foreclosed on... I hear it's actually making money now... Where are we going to get the money for another replacement? You can't work on that wrecked piece!"
D: "..."
Offstage: Sound of children playing, obliviously
One week later
*knock knock*
Mom: "Who is it?"
Ominous Voice: "Uh... we have business with you, ma'am."
MOTHER opens door. A smartly dressed LEADER wearing a chain shirt and fatigues is at the front. His sword is made of glimmering black metal, similar to the Mother. Behind him are 3 thugs, also armed.
Mom: "What is it?"
Leader: "Well, how to break the news... your husband has done a very heroic thing."
Mom: "..."
Leader: "I think you know what it was already."
Mom: "He didn't."
Leader: "You didn't find the note? Or perhaps he didn't leave one, fearing he'd be found out. Yesterday, he came to us and asked us to take him apart for his... components. I must admit, the amount of money gained from such a sale should be enough to insure your financial stability for some time.
Mom: "No! It can't be! He wouldn't leave me!"
Leader: "Ah, but he has. Furthermore, he should have done more research about the people he was doing business with. Rather isolated place you have, out here... nobody would notice anything untoward happening. You see, I have no intention of paying you for your husband's materials- I will have both your wretched bodies, for free!"
Mom: "You monster! You are ruining a fam-"
The three thugs charge and bowl the mother over, holding her struggling hands to the ground. By the time the conversation resumes, the MOTHER is restrained rather completely.
Leader: "I'm sorry, you were saying, ma'am?"
Mom: "You are ruining a..."
MOTHER pauses a moment. An echo of the sound of their kids is heard, only to her, in her memory, and she stares at the Leader considering what kind of man he is.
Mom: "More than you know."
Leader: "Oh, how heroic. She thinks she's saving her kids by not telling me about them and trying to beg for mercy. Do you think us numbskulls? We killed 'em this morning. The runts don't provide as much as you grown ones do, but I don't care. Here, let me show you their remains, which shall be forged into my mighty armor! In death, they shall serve me- as shall you! Hahahahahahahaha!"
Mom: "Noooooooooooo!"
Oh, and that's just for the scattered immigrant families, preyed upon by greedy brigands. Imagine the Warforged conclave, where they all band together under the benevolent leadership of a few, who surely have the best interests of all of them at heart? I mean, Boxer will be sent to happy grazing pastures as his reward for his long work, not to the glue factory, right?
Wow! I think I like Warforged after all, despite appearing a dumb 13 year old idea at first. So much potential for horror! Theatre-inclined people, the above play will cost a mere $1,000, if you're interested. Get the rights while they're hot.
First, the strange case of Ansar Mahmood, intrepid pizza delivery man, who has just been deported. Yes, Mahmood was in the country legally, from Pakistan. So what wuz Mahmood's crime? Apparently, he was taking pictures in the wrong place shortly after September 11th. So the local police threw 'im in the brig. Sure, whatever, mistakes were made, minor note, right? Well, for whatever reason, the cops decided that they had a big-time criminal on their hands, and decided to see if they couldn't find something to pin on him. What was it?
Wait for it.
Apparently... he helped people get a job and an apartment. Except those people had expired visas. Qué horror!
Now, if you're helping terrorists get an apartment, that's one thing, although you then have the issue of "Well, I thought he just took his faith seriously, didn't imagine he'd be a terrorist, etc." But these two other people have never been accused or charged with terrorism. So they're just some guys. And Mr. Mahmood says he didn't know they had expired visas- like it's his job to check.
I can't wait to see where this line of thinking goes next. "You! 7-11 guy! You sold a slurpee to a guy with an expired visa! What, do you just hate America or something, helping illegals use services & spend money? And what was that guard at the State of Liberty thinking, when he let that expired visa man to read the poem at the bottom! Deport the people there, too!"
The law against "harboring illegal aliens" I always imagined as the excuse for prosecuting "the middleman on the smuggling route from Mexico who keeps 50 illegals hidden in his cabinet." In a case like that, you're part of the smuggling enterprise, and definitely know these people are illegal immigrants. Merely helping some fellow immigrants find jobs & apartments?! When, prima facia, they're legal, since I'm going to assume that at one time their visas hadn't expired? Even still, he got something like "probation" as the penalty, but apparently that's enough to deport him, according to the INS! Rules are rules, and all... nice to know we are now safe from helpful pizza delivery men.
---
So Scattercat linked me to some random amusing thread on the RPG.net forums, which I had noticed on that big list of top forums I posted earlier. Anyway, the site also had a review of Ebberon, WotC's latest d20 setting. When I had first read about it (a long time ago; haven't really been following RPGs since), it seemed straight up steampunk, which as a genre I think is super-duper-neato; but the reviewer was rather underwhelmed by it, and it was less steampunk than "mishmash." That's neither here nor there, though; of import is one odd feature the reviewer noted that Ebberon included... the Warforged.
So, uh, Warforged are basically terminators. And playable as 1st level characters (never mind that Golems in D&D tend to be matches for parties of 9th level and up). And they can be made of, at 1st level, even better materials than standard D&D Golems (Iron Golems are beatings and a half; you have first level PCs made out of adamantium). The reviewer made some sarcastic comments about the hypothetical 1st level Warforged PC who they let die, but lives on thanks to all the neat weapons & armor they made from his corpse. Or even just pressuring him to sell of a few unneeded body parts for cash.
You know, this could actually be really neat, if the campaign setting acknowledges this is true (they probably won't). Warforged members of society are literally worth more dead than alive, which is powerfully depressing. I mean, compare the amount of money nice weapons cost (3,000 gp+) to the amount of money an average civilian makes in a day (1 gp). I'm thinking Death of a Salesman here. This is dramatic stuff, people.
~Death of a Warforged~
A Tragedy in Three Acts
Mom: "Dear! Your left arm!"
Dad: "I know, I know! It's okay... you know I've been thinking about it for awhile..."
M: "My business just needs a bit more time, that's all! We'll be making money soon enough! You didn't need to go that far..."
D: "Well, the haul was bad again. Competition with the Moolian ore mines and all covering our shortfall, keeping prices low... I don't know what world the kids will grow up in."
M: "But... the replacement... it looks so flimsy! What is that, clay? It'll break in a year! Especially with all that work you do..."
D: "It has to go on. Besides, it's for the children..."
One year later
*clank clank*. Heavy footsteps. Sound of a door opening.
M: "Hmm? That noise? Home from work early, my lo- oh my! What happened?!"
D: "Oh, we all evacuated in time. Accident at the mine- you know they always send us in for the dangerous stuff, thanks to our strength. But the replacement arm..."
M: "There's no way you can use that anymore! If only my business hadn't been foreclosed on... I hear it's actually making money now... Where are we going to get the money for another replacement? You can't work on that wrecked piece!"
D: "..."
Offstage: Sound of children playing, obliviously
One week later
*knock knock*
Mom: "Who is it?"
Ominous Voice: "Uh... we have business with you, ma'am."
MOTHER opens door. A smartly dressed LEADER wearing a chain shirt and fatigues is at the front. His sword is made of glimmering black metal, similar to the Mother. Behind him are 3 thugs, also armed.
Mom: "What is it?"
Leader: "Well, how to break the news... your husband has done a very heroic thing."
Mom: "..."
Leader: "I think you know what it was already."
Mom: "He didn't."
Leader: "You didn't find the note? Or perhaps he didn't leave one, fearing he'd be found out. Yesterday, he came to us and asked us to take him apart for his... components. I must admit, the amount of money gained from such a sale should be enough to insure your financial stability for some time.
Mom: "No! It can't be! He wouldn't leave me!"
Leader: "Ah, but he has. Furthermore, he should have done more research about the people he was doing business with. Rather isolated place you have, out here... nobody would notice anything untoward happening. You see, I have no intention of paying you for your husband's materials- I will have both your wretched bodies, for free!"
Mom: "You monster! You are ruining a fam-"
The three thugs charge and bowl the mother over, holding her struggling hands to the ground. By the time the conversation resumes, the MOTHER is restrained rather completely.
Leader: "I'm sorry, you were saying, ma'am?"
Mom: "You are ruining a..."
MOTHER pauses a moment. An echo of the sound of their kids is heard, only to her, in her memory, and she stares at the Leader considering what kind of man he is.
Mom: "More than you know."
Leader: "Oh, how heroic. She thinks she's saving her kids by not telling me about them and trying to beg for mercy. Do you think us numbskulls? We killed 'em this morning. The runts don't provide as much as you grown ones do, but I don't care. Here, let me show you their remains, which shall be forged into my mighty armor! In death, they shall serve me- as shall you! Hahahahahahahaha!"
Mom: "Noooooooooooo!"
Oh, and that's just for the scattered immigrant families, preyed upon by greedy brigands. Imagine the Warforged conclave, where they all band together under the benevolent leadership of a few, who surely have the best interests of all of them at heart? I mean, Boxer will be sent to happy grazing pastures as his reward for his long work, not to the glue factory, right?
Wow! I think I like Warforged after all, despite appearing a dumb 13 year old idea at first. So much potential for horror! Theatre-inclined people, the above play will cost a mere $1,000, if you're interested. Get the rights while they're hot.