Jeff Mach's Blog

   To the fortunate recipient of this missive:

   Congratulations!

Your son/daughter/wife/husband/relative/pal is a hero! They have been commended for acts of bravery vastly above and beyond the norm, and bear in mind that once you are cleared to hear what they did, you’ll want to break open a Jereboam of champagne. In fact, why not stop by your local wine shop and pick one up now?

Oh, and totally, 100% alive. Absolutely. Very, very, very alive, healthy, kicking, swinging, all the things living people do? Your loved one is definitely up to all that.

Secretly.

You see, the Dark Lord is incredibly insidious. Yes, of course, as you’ve heard, she’s dead, very dead, completely dead. But she’s tricky, and she might rise from the grave at any moment.

We’ve therefore decided to take the entire army and put it under the strictest of secrecies.

Our wisest generals, our most talented scouts, and our most powerful Wizards have cloaked the entire Army in a vast, moving Undetectability Shield. The enemy will never know where we are!

You won’t either, but you don’t have to. All you have to know is that everyone is safe, everything is good, and we have completely won.

Oh, and if the Dark Lord sends some sorts of emissaries in your direction, claiming to have defeated the army? Just tell the emissaries that you’re much too smart to be fooled by the sad remnants of her forces, attempting to pretend she still exists to extort and threaten good, honest people.

Of course, if you’re good, honest people, you won’t talk to them in the first place.

So you may not hear from your brave warriors for a while. But rest assured that they’re safe and sound! Break out the celebratory wine, and very soon, we’ll be sending an entire caravan of bread and a couple of very amusing circuses in your direction.

Everything is excellent. Trust us.

Very sincerely yours,

Your Loving Rulers & Their Wise White Wizard Counsellors

The post A Patriotic Letter To The Families Of The Army of Light appeared first on Jeff Mach Writes.

On Cubes:The Proud Hunter Skins His  KillThe Milliner said, “Look. I can’t make a hat from this
As he started at the corpse of the cube gelatinous.
“It can’t take needle. It can’t take thread.
Why not just wear it before it was dead?”“It would have swallowed me,” the Adventurer said.
“Maybe it knew your sense of taste,” said the Milliner, his face a stone.
“Now please go kill me something with at least one bone.”__The Umber HulkTo some, they’re horrors, tunnelling, huge
Good for nothing but strapping to a centrifuge
They have strange eyes; avoid perusing
As the effects are quite confusing.(I was once with an adventuring team.
Which had Hulk-Slaying as their dream
But they looked in its eyes…and began to kanoodle
What happened next was fairly brutal.)So I swore vengeance was what I wanted
And they became Restauranted
And now, at Long John Umber’s
You can get chitinous Hulks in tremendous numbers.Turns out the Ocean is their origin
And they are indeed crustacean.
We campaign to Save the Whales
While serving broiled Umber Tails.We’re making money hands over fists
Our only fear’s environmentalists.
They fear the Hulk will go extinct;
“Who cares?” is our reply succinct.So if by my town you wander near
Tell ’em you heard about it here.
Forget your hunger and your sulking!
Get out there and Happy Hulking!__A Fate Worse Than GermsI know a terrible hypochondriac
Sure that if she went out, she’d never come back,
Slain by some insidious germ
Fortunately, she was eaten by a Purple Worm.O Purple Worms, how to praise you first?
You make it seem pleasant to die of thirstYou may not be of the keenest with
But that’s quality acid that you spit.You’re very difficult to slay.
Which is why in the cities I’m glad to stay.
But a thousand Orcs travel to you as we speak,
They’ve got a barbecue planned. It’ll take a week.___Tripodal Evolutionary ProcessesA few words about the tripodal Xorn
In my side, always a thorn.I’ll get them though. For I have bred
Other tripods; and drawn a thread.
At great expense, and peril sure,
I’ve imported Triffids…thousands or moreThey’ll eat the Xorn. I’m sure of it.
And then cry out for more of it.
They’ll find their ecological niche. No fuss.
I’m SURE that they won’t turn to us.___Rust MonstersI hope you weren’t feeling lusty;
I’m about to talk about Monsters, Rusty.They’re something like giant rats
If they were magical, spat acid, and ate cats.They’re not impossible to kill,
Don’t sap your level. Just your will.
Your magic sword slew it. This is true.But now it’s a bubbling enchanted stew.To what possible problem of evolution
Could magic rust-eating be the solution?(Or was the Master of Dungeons exercising his talents
Annoying the players, but maintaining the Balance?__The Fate Of The Kuo-TuaThe Kuo-Tua worship Dagon
Who is, unfortunately gone
The reason why might draw no scorn
And here’s why the KT do not mourn.Dagon is of the Fellest of Fells
But even He’s not fond of spells
And I think we can all agree:
Dungeon-Land’s overrun by Wizardry.So Dagon opened a dimensional gate
(We didn’t see. It was very late.)He’s gone from there. Kapoof!(And in this world. And on your roof.)Leaving the lonely Kuo-Toa
With their civilization a protozoa
Many of them simply thought of fleeing,Serving some other eldritch being.Blibdoolpoolp is horrifying and viciousShe sleeps with the fishes;Her priests are in a sanitarium
And she’s in the aquarium.Rob Adventurers? That’s insane.
Too little coin. Leaves a stain.
But we’ve the finest tourist attraction underseas(That’ll be $17.95 per corn dog, please.)_________Find me at patreon.com/thatjeffmachAlso, if you’re in the Northeastern US, you might enjoy the Odditorium Carnival.

The post Yet More Dungeon Doggerel appeared first on Jeff Mach Writes.

On Cubes:The Proud Hunter Skins His  KillThe Milliner said, “Look. I can’t make a hat from this
As he started at the corpse of the cube gelatinous.
“It can’t take needle. It can’t take thread.
Why not just wear it before it was dead?”“It would have swallowed me,” the Adventurer said.
“Maybe it knew your sense of taste,” said the Milliner, his face a stone.
“Now please go kill me something with at least one bone.”__The Umber HulkTo some, they’re horrors, tunnelling, huge
Good for nothing but strapping to a centrifuge
They have strange eyes; avoid perusing
As the effects are quite confusing.(I was once with an adventuring team.
Which had Hulk-Slaying as their dream
But they looked in its eyes…and began to kanoodle
What happened next was fairly brutal.)So I swore vengeance was what I wanted
And they became Restauranted
And now, at Long John Umber’s
You can get chitinous Hulks in tremendous numbers.Turns out the Ocean is their origin
And they are indeed crustacean.
We campaign to Save the Whales
While serving broiled Umber Tails.We’re making money hands over fists
Our only fear’s environmentalists.
They fear the Hulk will go extinct;
“Who cares?” is our reply succinct.So if by my town you wander near
Tell ’em you heard about it here.
Forget your hunger and your sulking!
Get out there and Happy Hulking!__A Fate Worse Than GermsI know a terrible hypochondriac
Sure that if she went out, she’d never come back,
Slain by some insidious germ
Fortunately, she was eaten by a Purple Worm.O Purple Worms, how to praise you first?
You make it seem pleasant to die of thirstYou may not be of the keenest with
But that’s quality acid that you spit.You’re very difficult to slay.
Which is why in the cities I’m glad to stay.
But a thousand Orcs travel to you as we speak,
They’ve got a barbecue planned. It’ll take a week.___Tripodal Evolutionary ProcessesA few words about the tripodal Xorn
In my side, always a thorn.I’ll get them though. For I have bred
Other tripods; and drawn a thread.
At great expense, and peril sure,
I’ve imported Triffids…thousands or moreThey’ll eat the Xorn. I’m sure of it.
And then cry out for more of it.
They’ll find their ecological niche. No fuss.
I’m SURE that they won’t turn to us.___Rust MonstersI hope you weren’t feeling lusty;
I’m about to talk about Monsters, Rusty.They’re something like giant rats
If they were magical, spat acid, and ate cats.

They’re not impossible to kill,
Don’t sap your level. Just your will.
Your magic sword slew it. This is true.

But now it’s a bubbling enchanted stew.To what possible problem of evolution
Could magic rust-eating be the solution?(Or was the Master of Dungeons exercising his talents
Annoying the players, but maintaining the Balance?__The Fate Of The Kuo-TuaThe Kuo-Tua worship Dagon
Who is, unfortunately gone
The reason why might draw no scorn
And here’s why the KT do not mourn.Dagon is of the Fellest of Fells
But even He’s not fond of spells
And I think we can all agree:
Dungeon-Land’s overrun by Wizardry.So Dagon opened a dimensional gate
(We didn’t see. It was very late.)He’s gone from there. Kapoof!(And in this world. And on your roof.)Leaving the lonely Kuo-Toa
With their civilization a protozoa
Many of them simply thought of fleeing,Serving some other eldritch being.Blibdoolpoolp is horrifying and viciousShe sleeps with the fishes;Her priests are in a sanitarium
And she’s in the aquarium.Rob Adventurers? That’s insane.
Too little coin. Leaves a stain.
But we’ve the finest tourist attraction underseas(That’ll be $17.95 per corn dog, please.)_________Find me at patreon.com/thatjeffmachAlso, if you’re in the Northeastern US, you might enjoy the Odditorium Carnival.

The post Yet More Dungeon Doggerell appeared first on Jeff Mach Writes.

As a writer, I believe that I have a duty to attempt clarity, unless I’m part of a college course, andhopefully, i’m not.

So I’m talking about the end of the world. Not metaphorically. Not “the music today is ruining everything.” Not “You can’t get a decent pizza delivered by the same persontwice.” I mean Literally: burning stars plummeting from the sky, rivers of overboiled blood, the sun turning black with sinister little pink strips, the Moon changing from carefully-balanced green cheese to some kind of crumbly dust, the galaxies stripped of their cores like figs at a glutton’s table, the whole apocalyptic nine billion yards.

And yet—spoiler alert—we’re still here. The planet keeps spinning. The sun still rises, regardless of how hard we try to convince it otherwise.

This is because the Universe loves books, and we used to make a lot of them.

Now we WRITE a lot of books, but too many. We don’t, for example, have time to support authors as well as we’d like.

The Universe has simply decided that this was a pretty decent try, but it needs to start over.

And somehow, despite every deadline humanity has ever set for itself, the world has stubbornly refused to cooperate with our collective nervous breakdown

.Let’s review a few highlights, shall we?

Around 634 BCE, the Assyrian king Ashurbanipal recorded a solar eclipse that terrified his court astrologers so badly they declared the gods were about to wipe out civilization. They performed frantic rituals, sacrificed livestock, and begged for mercy. Civilization continued. The sun came back out. No one’s quite sure what the livestock thought about the whole thing.

(Crowley did, in fact, summon some of their ghosts, but was unable to get them to converse about anything other than food and mating. They got along well.

In 66 CE, when the Roman general Vespasian besieged Jerusalem, a comet appeared in the sky. This was definitely a coincidence. The historian Josephus wrote that many Jews took it as a sign the world was ending. They didn’t buy more books, they didn’t stockpile canned goods—they just assumed the end was nigh.

(Then again, Josephus cheated at lots. He’s not one of MY favorite authors.

Jerusalem fell. The world kept going. The comet eventually left. No follow-up prophecy about “the end of the world in 67 CE.”Fast-forward to 999 CE. As the first millennium ticked toward 1000, panic swept Europe. Chroniclers recorded mass pilgrimages, people giving away all their possessions, monasteries overflowing with repentant sinners, and entire villages convinced the Antichrist was due any minute with the Y2K Virus When January 1, 1000, dawned and nothing happened—no trumpets, no horsemen, no lakes of fire—people quietly picked up their pitchforks and went back to plowing, which shows two important differences between then:

Thye had a lot more pitchforks.They must have been short on torches.Regardless The world had the audacity to continue. No one got a refund on their indulgences. In 1260, the Franciscan friar Joachim of Fiore declared the Age of the Spirit would begin that year, ushering in the end of history. Thousands believed him. When it didn’t happen*, they revised the date. Then revised it again. Eventually they stopped revising and just quietly went back to being Franciscans, so they could eventually inspire “The Name Of The Rose.” priorities are important.

October 13, 1884: thence came the “Great Disappointment” of the Millerites. William Miller calculated the Second Coming would occur sometime between March 21, 1843, and March 21, 1844. When it didn’t, he revised it to October 22, 1844. Tens of thousands sold their farms, quit jobs, and waited on rooftops in white robes. When the sun rose on October 23 and Jesus had not appeared, many were devastated. Others shrugged, said “math is hard,” and went back to farming.

(Where the HELL were those pitchforks?)

Again. There were BOOKS. The Angels weren’t going to rain hellfire on perfectly good hardcovers they hadn’t even skimmed yet.

The world kept turning.January 1, 2000: the real Y2K bug. Millions believed computers would crash worldwide at midnight, planes would fall from the sky, power grids would collapse, society would dissolve into chaos. People stockpiled canned goods, water, guns, and gold.

That’s what happened, of course, and we all live in this rather pleasant post-Apocalyptic Universe without the Internet and—oh, I’ve just been informed that this is not true in your particular Universe. This is awkward. Nevermind. As I was saying…

When the clock struck 12:01 a.m. and the only thing that happened was a few VCRs blinking 12:00, the world collectively exhaled. We still have the canned goods, though. They’re in the back of the pantry, judging us.

And now—here we are in 2026—people still occasionally whisper that the end is nigh. Climate, politics, AI, asteroids, supervolcanoes, the collapse of civilization as we know it. The usual suspects. Every generation thinks it’s the special one that finally gets to watch the credits roll. But here’s the thing, gentle reader: The world has never ended because someone didn’t buy a book.

Not once in three thousand years.
Not when Ashurbanipal’s astrologers panicked.
Not when the Millerites waited on rooftops.
Not when the Y2K preppers had to explain to their kids why they owned seventeen cases of Spam.The world has never ended because someone failed to click “Add to Cart” on an indie title.
It has never ended because someone skipped a $4.99 ebook.
It has never ended because someone didn’t hit “Buy Now” on a paperback with a cool cover.

If the apocalypse were waiting on book sales, it would have given up millennia ago and gone home to sulk. The end of the world is not sitting on your wishlist, refreshing the page, wondering why you haven’t checked out yet.So breathe.The stars are not falling like figs because you haven’t read the latest dark fantasy novella.

The rivers are not turning to undrinkable gravy Kool-AID. because you passed on the $3.99 short story collection.

The moon is not turning to sackcloth because you didn’t back the Kickstarter.You can, if you wish, buy the book anyway.

Not to avert the end of the world.

Just because it’s a good book.

Because you like stories.

Because you like supporting weird little writers who still believe words matter.But if you don’t?
If you close the tab, walk away, and go make tea instead?The world will keep spinning.

The sun will rise tomorrow.

The stars will still be there.And somewhere, in a quiet corner of the internet, an indie writer will sigh, shrug, and keep writing anyway.Because that’s what writers do.The end is not coming today.
Not even if you skip the book.

…probably.

Not definitely.

But probably.

______________________

patreon.com/thatjeffmach

 

* Unless it did and we’re all just in Purgatory.

I mean, it COULD be.

The post The World Is Less Than 7% Likely To End If You Don’t Support An Independent Author Today appeared first on Jeff Mach Writes.

It’s the most over-the-top Tiki bar in the Underdark.  Black-lava walls dripping with neon-pink and electric-lime tiki torches, bamboo-and-obsidian barstools, a massive bubbling 7000-degree lava-lamp fountain in the center, spider-silk hammocks swaying from stalactites, a house band of Drow in bell-bottom spider-leather pants playing wah-wah funk on (probably not humanoid) bone flutes and electrified harps, and every cocktail served in a skull-shaped coconut with a tiny paper umbrella made of bat wing. The vibe is pure disco-Drow decadence—Lolth would approve, but only if the lighting is flattering.

“I don’t mean to brag, but I’m already bleeding. Care to finish the job, or shall we draw it out over a flaming Blue Hawaii and whispers in the corner booth where the spider-silk curtains hide everything but the anguished screams?”

“I know what happens to males who stare too long at a Matron. Lucky for you, I’ve always preferred the view from the bottom of the web… especially when the web’s draped over a tiki barstool and the strobe lights hit your retina.”

“Your House sigil is on my throat already, love. Shall we make the mark permanent, or do you prefer temporary collars—maybe one made of the crushed black velvet and tiny glowing lava beads they sell behind the bar?”

“They say males exist to serve and die. I’m willing to serve… slowly… if you promise the dying part comes with your teeth and a double rum runner with extra grenadine and a little paper spider on top.”

“I’ve survived three assassination attempts this tenday. Yours would be the only one I’d let succeed. Name the time and the sill. Bonus points if it’s in the hammock swing by the lava fountain while the band does a cover of ‘Evil Woman’.”

“You smell of spider venom and ambition. My favorite combination. Shall we see which kills me first—your bite or this piña colada that’s somehow glowing under the blacklight?”

“In the Underdark, love is a blade between the ribs. I’d let you twist it, just to hear you laugh when I gasp… especially if the laugh is accompanied by a little umbrella twirl and the scent of coconut rum.”

“I’ve watched you sacrifice lesser males without blinking. Do me the honor of making mine last longer than a heartbeat—say, the length of one slow dance on the lava-glass floor while the torches flicker in time. You can buy a whole platter of pink margaritas with my inheritance.

“In Menzoberranzan, trust is a myth and betrayal is foreplay. Shall we begin the ritual—here, in the booth with the velvet cushions and the little flaming volcano drink between us?”

“I’ve lived long enough to know desire is just hunger with better manners. Feed on me, Matron. I promise I taste like surrender… and pineapple, coconut, and a hint of whatever that glowing blue liqueur is they keep pouring tonight.”

_____

patreon.com/thatjeffmach

The post Tiki Bar Drow Pickup Lines. appeared first on Jeff Mach Writes.

If there’s one thing each of my skulls relies in,
It’s the high quality of this here poison
For while Lust is good for society,
It’s totally useless to me and me.

We’re powerful. We slowly age.
There are advantages to being a mage.
You live near an eternity,
All the time in celibacy.

I assume it’s humor. I assume it’s jest.
That those whose Magic has flair and zest
Have lived a century or more
Without wife, lover, concubine, or whore.

Magic’s capricious. This Tellurian
Is less fun than traveling in a DeLorean.
The price of power cosmic and great.
Is little of the middle, and too much pate.

All I know is, your frustration
Is powerful for your education.
But if for Love’s madness you really wanna,
Come here and sniff some Belladonna.

It’ll leave you half-made and poison you
Very similar to how Love makes noise in you.
With one trick: when our drugs dissipate,
We’ve all been there. We can relate.

Some try potions. Some try books.
I, personally, like tempting crooks.
With many a cunning twist and gudgeon,
I live in the back of a horrible dungeon.

No-one who enjoys precious views
Would pic some Gryphons for their mews;
And no poem’s onliest begettin’
Comes from housing an uncouth Ettin.

With ward and lock and pact and rune
And guard and pit, my home is strewn.
(If you think the monsters mean
Just imagine what they take to clean.)

Only the boring and the dullest
Have an ordinary castle and portcullis
Some people have waiting rooms;
My decor is baiting tombs.

Some people bake pies and meringues;
I bake Golems with vampire fangs.
My Giant needs meat in giant slabs;
I grow it for him in my labs.

Some people retire to Fort Lauderdale.
I prefer to watch Adventurers fail.
Although I know, if they get past
They might kill me, no matter what I cast.

On the whole, I think that sex
Is a distraction for the Sorcerous Rex.
Clearly, sexual frustration
Is the key to dungeon fumigation.

I know my life nears its underture
At  the coming hands of someone of Adventure.
But as I’m finally slain by those adventurous mooches,
I’ll lament: Maybe I should have tried the smooches.

_________

patreon.com/thatjeffmach

 

 

The post A Small Ode To DarkMagick: On Liches And Celibacy appeared first on Jeff Mach Writes.

If there’s one thing each of my skulls relies in,
It’s the high quality of this here poison
For while Lust is good for society,
It’s totally useless to me and me.

We’re powerful. We slowly age.
There are advantages to being a mage.
You live near an eternity,
All the time in celibacy.

I assume it’s humor. I assume it’s jest.
That those whose Magic has flair and zest
Have lived a century or more
Without wife, lover, concubine, or whore.

Magic’s capricious. This Tellurian
Is less fun than traveling in a DeLorean.
The price of power cosmic and great.
Is little of the middle, and too much pate.

All I know is, your frustration
Is powerful for your education.
But if for Love’s madness you really wanna,
Come here and sniff some Belladonna.

It’ll leave you half-made and poison you
Very similar to how Love makes noise in you.
With one trick: when our drugs dissipate,
We’ve all been there. We can relate.

Some try potions. Some try books.
I, personally, like tempting crooks.
With many a cunning twist and gudgeon,
I live in the back of a horrible dungeon.

No-one who enjoys precious views
Would pic some Gryphons for their mews;
And no poem’s onliest begettin’
Comes from housing an uncouth Ettin.

With ward and lock and pact and rune
And guard and pit, my home is strewn.
(If you think the monsters mean
Just imagine what they take to clean.)

Only the boring and the dullest
Have an ordinary castle and portcullis
Some people have waiting rooms;
My decor is baiting tombs.

Some people bake pies and meringues;
I bake Golems with vampire fangs.
My Giant needs meat in giant slabs;
I grow it for him in my labs.

Some people retire to Fort Lauderdale.
I prefer to watch Adventurers fail.
Although I know, if they get past
They might kill me, no matter what I cast.

On the whole, I think that sex
Is a distraction for the Sorcerous Rex.
Clearly, sexual frustration
Is the key to dungeon fumigation.

I know my life nears its underture
At  the coming hands of someone of Adventure.
But as I’m finally slain by those adventurous mooches,
I’ll lament: Maybe I should have tried the smooches.

_________

patreon.com/thatjeffmach

 

 

The post A Small Ode To DarkMagick appeared first on Jeff Mach Writes.

“…quite clever, really, in concept.

It takes a good decade for a single Wizard to learn to cast a single fireball the size of your fist. It’s a complicated magic for a number of reasons, one of the simplest being that the air doesn’t want to suddenly catch fire.

But indeed, if you want flame, the Nineteen Hells all have significantly more of it than they will ever use, and those dimensions—both the inhabitants, and the actual dimensions themselves—want nothing more out of existence than to spread their flames here.

This creates an incredible serious change in the dynamic. Certes, it takes power to open a Gate to another dimension, but if that dimension is already hungering to be here, you’re essentially no longer required to generate the energy necessary to, say, create and hurl a ball of heat sufficient to harm a soldier, or, indeed, an army. The energy is there, and it’s hungry.

Suddenly, the entire area of war-weapons changes from ‘How can we create the biggest, most devastating blast’ to ‘All right, all we need to do is contain the flames which will come pouring through this Gate, and then close it again.

This issue of containment is one of the core reasons this kind of spell hadn’t really been tried in battle before. That, and, of course, all dealings with Demons involve a number of fairly complex risks.

Almost all of the energy involved in summoning Demonic Phlogiston is in controlling it.

What if you didn’t really need to control it?

This is the question some very bright young Wizards asked.

Figure this:

The Armies of Light are different from the Armies of Darkness on a soul level, since they’re evil. This is obvious; otherwise, why would they be an Army of Darkness?

Ergo, what if the problem was a conceptual one, not a magical one?

Demons despise the Pure of Heart. This is a known fact. They hate them because they can’t touch them, can’t affect them.

Sadly, no magical technology can actually peer into the ‘heart’. It’s proven significantly more difficult than detecting, say, lies, or lack of a sense of humor.

But these young Wizards put forth a series of complex determinants and characteristics which the Pure of Heart would be sure to have.

They then went through the vast Armies of the West and interviewed hundreds of warriors. No-one wanted a repeat of that ‘banish negativity’ spell.

Those familiar with the aforementioned incident might wonder, in advance, if the criteria turned out to be imperfect, if the Pure of Heart were fried along with the Armies of Darkness.

You need not worry.

In point of fact, it does appear that many of those Warriors were, indeed, Pure of Heart.

The great Gate of Fire opened above the vast battlefield, and tongues of acquisitive burn fried half the battlefield to a crisp.

Half of everyone.

The Orcish armies had expected some kind of attack. Nevertheless, the hellfire was overwhelming, and some of them fled.

The Armies of Light had expected, vaguely, to be bathed in sort-of a glowing light as their enemies were incinerated.

They had not expected half their brethren to be flash-cooked.

They ran like hell, and they’re still running.

And Alice, to her chagrin, had won again, and needed to administer another Land.

Which she really, really will do.

After she finishes reading one more book.

Maybe two.

The Orcish Armies, receiving no particular orders to march upon Human civilization, began a feast and celebration which lasted a week.

There is no truth to the rumour that a number of the Warriors of the West joined the Orcish army thereafter.

There may be some truth to the idea that fried Orc is delicious, but this is hardly a surprise to anyone, least of all Orcs.

__________-

patreon.com/thatjeffmach

The post The Flaming Death-Weapon Which Will Not Harm Those Who Are Pure Of Heart: An Excerpt From An Essay By Dr. Ernst Beeker, Necromonologist appeared first on Jeff Mach Writes.

Pluses of remaining Human:

Food can be nice. I don’t think liches eat.

Although I imagine they can feel physical sensations, since otherwise, it would be very difficult to pick things up.

Other pluses of remaining Human:

…

Liches like cats.

Cats are reputedly fine with liches, although this doesn’t stop the furry little traitors from rubbing up against the legs of any Adventurers lucky enough to slay one.

___

CON: Students would be disappointed that they can’t invite me over for a home-cooked dinner.
PRO: Students are terrible cooks.

___

Method: Necromancy.

Slay large number of people in dark ritual.
Harness collective soul energy in unholy rite designed to create a horrifying parody of Human life.

Pros: Seems logical.

Cons: Famously never works. Makes you extremely unpopular. Disposing of a large number of corpses is difficult, even if you have a lot of allies who eat Humans. Also, won’t improve relationships between your allies and any possible friendly Humans for them to spend the next six months bragging about the incredible homo sapiens luau you gave them.

Method: Seek out Adventurers and have them slay the Liches and bring you their writings.

Pros: Will acquire more books, also interesting notes and charts.

Cons: Adventurers are idiots. No matter how many times you say ‘Bring back EVERY PIECE OF WRITING’, they persist in coming to you with chest after chest of enchanted treasure, of which you have plenty, and then they say, “Oh, and we dropped off some books at your Library.” Your Library has seventeen entrances. It can take DAYS to find whatever they managed to find and thought was worth bringing back.

PRO/CON: The phrase “We threw out some books to make room for more treasure” is now punishable by death via torture everywhere throughout our Realm.

CON: Liches obviously burn their notes on Immortality for unknown reasons. This is terrifying, when you think about it.

METHOD: Send teams of Librarians searching through every obscure library and bookstore for useful knowledge.

PROS: Books.

CONS: Inevitably leads to the Necronomicon. Continue to be embarrassed every time Nyarlothotep asks for a date. He will not take the hint.

METHOD: Ask currently known Liches for advice.

PRO: Not a bad idea.

CON: Should have tried this BEFORE the Adventurer Slaying Liches route. Oh, well.

Attempt Rite of Ashkente and ask Death to make you immortal in exchange for…

…what the Hell does Death want? No need for money, all the power you could ask for, don’t want to know about sex….

On hold for now.

Method: Do independent research until I FORCE the Universe to give up the secrets of eternal semi-life.

PROS: Will require a LOT of research.

OTHER PROS: Will require a LOT of books.

CONS: Am unfortunately ruling the World. Needs to be administered reasonably well or it will fall into chaos and nobody will write any more books.

FACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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Wikipedia says “The Force” is….

“…a metaphysical, mysterious, and ubiquitous power in the Star Wars fiction franchise. Within the galaxy in which the franchise is set, characters refer to the Force as an energy that interconnects all things, maintaining cosmic balance. Particularly “Force-sensitive” characters, usually through rigorous self-discipline, training, and mindfulness, are able to connect to the Force and thus access and wield certain supernatural abilities such as limited degrees of superhuman strength, telekinesis, and clairvoyance.

Heroes like the Jedi, a peacekeeping group of warrior-monks, largely seek to ‘become one with the Force’, matching their personal wills with ‘the will of the Force’. This is evidenced by their ability to channel its powers, which they do towards selfless goals. Meanwhile, the Sith and other villains try to bend the additional abilities gained through the Force toward their own selfish and destructive desires. Throughout the franchise, this distinction is referred as the light side versus the dark side of the Force. In the conflict between the light and dark sides, characters’ actions are often described as either helping to bring balance to the Force or, its opposite, causing a disturbance in the Force.

Wikipedia and I may not completely agree all the time.

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Now, if you haven’t particularly read up on the Sith, And your basic concept of the force is that it lets you do spectacular acrobatics while fighting with beams of light, that’s perfectly fine.It’s just wrong.All right. If the Jedi are an ancient order of Force-users, dedicated to the use of the Light Side of the Force for peace and justice(we have never actually seen them embodying peace and justice particularly successfully; we mostly see them as something like white-hat gunfighters from the 1950s, whose unbending morality happens to be backed up by just plain supernaturally superior fighting skills. But we digress)…then what are the Sith, and why are there two?If you’re really familiar with the Rule of Two, pardon me while I give a quick note on it:“Always there are two. One to embody the power, one to crave it.”
-Kermit. Or Yoda. Some green Muppet, anywayThat’s how we learn of the Rule of Two. The Jedi believe in cooperation (in theory; I mean, we mostly see them as an intensely hierarchical order which ‘cooperates’ a bit more like feudal Knights and Lords of various ranks, but again, we digress…)—but the Sith, particularly the ones we see in the film, there are only two. One extremely badass warrior, and someone he’s afraid of.This is because the Sith realize that if the Force pervades everything, it could control everything. Wait, no, “control” is the wrong word. “Access” is probably the right word. I mean, the more powerful you are, the more you can bend the Force to your will, but the Force seems to have some kind of volition of its own; if it’s not with you, after all, you’re in bad trouble. It could access everything, and this would be an extraordinary amount of power.And in the Palpatine books, we learn that the Emperor is, indeed, attempting to essentially extend his presence in the Force throughout the entire Galaxy. (Or is it Universe?) For example, while we watch him manipulate two other extremely powerful Force users, Darth Vader and Luke Skywalker, he’s also canonically battle-meditating to empower the Imperial Fleet. The whole fleet, apparently. (Sorry. Admiral Thrawn figured it out. Sort-of changes the whole scene for me, you know?)

(And then we find out that he isn’t dead, either. And somehow, in the books, that’s not particularly a spoiler. And it’s STILL not as weird as Luke and Leia getting it on in Splinter Of The Minds Eye. But…we may be digressing again.)

Without giving you any spoilers, I can tell you: The Emperor is alive, he’s still one with the Dark Side of the Force, and he would really like to extend his influence in the Force throughout everything. He just hasn’t figured out how to do it yet.

This is because they don’t have LLMs in that Universe.

If they did, he could just iterate. He senses the Force incredibly well; he can probably sense its actions for many, many light-years. So he ought to be able to observe its patterns of use umpteen times until he knows its patterns incredibly well. He could probably do that in the background while he does…whatever Palpatine does for fun.

So if he’s able to tell the Force to extend his Forceness outwards, there seems to be no practical limit to how far his influence could reach.

…of course, he would then have very little control over it.

What if Palpatine’s influence in the Force could touch the hearts and souls of everyone in the Galaxy?

He couldn’t handle it.

I mean, he’s already pushing the limits. You know he’s not actually old, he just uses so much Dark Side energy that it enervates and ages his bodies and he needs to keep cloning new bodies?

(That’s not a spoiler EITHER, somehow.)

If the Dark Side WANTED to actually control everything, it would. Assuming the Dark Side and the Light Side of the Force are separate, which they aren’t; they’re both parts of the Force.

So all you’d end up with is…essentially…Palpatine’s influence extending over so many sentient beings that no entity, no matter how Force-infused, could possibly comprehend it in a sentient way.

There are two possibilities I see:

Palpatine would explode.Palpatine would, indeed, be a part of everyone and everything. But there’d be SO MUCH of everything and SO LITTLE of Palpatine that even if Palpatine is the most focused, the most powerful Sith in history, he’s not going to end up in control of everyone.

He’s going to end up insignificant in everyone, and completely outside of himself. Which would presumably end the Sith.

There is no Number Three.

This has been your Sith Nerd Moment of the day.

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