This topic has 10 replies, 9 voices, and was last updated 7 years ago by 
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10 have been chosen tonight for what? A focus test? I’m not buying it, I bet something much bigger is in store for these people, what do you think is going to happen?
We are currently all pawns on the chess board, I strongly believe they may be getting positions within Sinclair Industries tonight, something we’ll all Lust after. This could get messy quick.
Noah – is the Queen
We don’t know who the King is, yet.
thebuz –
julierei –
wanda102 –
nothenrygale –
shankfx22 –
anakindrew –
russell –
mike –
pandace88 –
hazelverse –Good luck to all of you tonight!
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The powers that be swore to destroy our hearts. And their target is the one place they know we are all vulnerable: the community.
That’s why they didn’t pick who attended and left it up to individual community members. Because no matter what choice those people made, they would face scrutiny and resentment from others. “Interaction jealousy” is totally a thing here. And Sinclair sure as hell knows this. I think he and the OSDM get off on watching everyone squabble and fight for their attention.
Whatever happens tonight, I’m willing to bet these 10 people will be given tasks. And those tasks will involve the rest of us. Something to test us and/or create more strife.
At the very least, these 10 people will be looked at with total suspicion going forth.
(And as someone who was one the receiving end of that throughout all of Tension, I don’t envy them that position).-
@kasch — Get that lightning rod up, boy…Mr. Dark’s Pandemonium Carnival has gathered its first set of guests.
“The seller of lightning-rods arrived just ahead of the storm. He came along the street of Green Town, Illinois, in the late cloudy October day, sneaking glances over his shoulder. Somewhere not so far back, vast lightnings stomped the earth. Somewhere, a storm like a great beast with terrible teeth could not be denied.
So the salesman jangled and clanged his huge leather kit in which oversized puzzles of ironmongery lay unseen but which his tongue conjured from door to door.
‘Howdy, boys!’ called the man all dressed in storm-coloured clothes. ‘Folks home?’ The boys shook their heads.
‘Got any money, yourselves?’
The boys shook their heads.‘Well – ‘ The salesman walked about three feet, stopped and hunched his shoulders. Suddenly he seemed aware of house windows or the cold sky staring at his neck. He turned slowly, sniffing the air. Wind rattled the empty trees. Sunlight, breaking through a small rift in the clouds, minted a last few oak leaves all gold. But the sun vanished, t he coins were spent, the air blew grey; the salesman shook himself from the spell.
The salesman edged slowly up the lawn.“No money, you say?’
The man, grieved by his own conscientiousness, rummaged in his leather bag and seized forth an iron contraption.
‘Take this, free! Why? One of those houses will be struck by lightning! Without this rod, bang! Fire and ash, roast pork and cinders! Grab!’
The metal thing was hammered and shaped half-crescent, half-cross. Around the rim of the main rod little curlicues and doohingies had been soldered on later. The entire surface of the rod was finely scratched and etched with strange languages, names that could tie the tongue or break the jaw, numerals that added to incomprehensible sums, pictographs of insect – animals all bristle, chaff, and claw.
‘That ‘s Egyptian.’ Jim pointed his nose at a bug soldered to the iron. ‘Scarab beetle.’
‘So it is, boy!’
Jim squinted. ‘And those there – Phoenician hen tracks,’
‘Right!’
‘Why?’ asked Jim.
‘Why?’ said the man. ‘Why the Egyptian, Arabic, Abyssinian, Choctaw? Well, what tongue does the wind talk? What nationality is a storm? What country do rains come from? What colour is lightning? Where does thunder go when it dies? Boys, you got o be ready in every dialect with every shape and form to hex the St Elmo’s fires, the balls of blue light that prowl the earth like sizzling cats. I got the only lightning-rods in the world that hear, feel, know, and sass back any storm, no matter what tongue, voice, or sign. No foreign thunder so loud this rod can’t soft-talk it!’But Will was staring beyond the man now.
‘Which,’ he said. ‘Which house will it strike?’
‘Which? Hold on. Wait.’ The salesman searched deep in their faces. ‘Some folks draw lightning, suck it like cats suck babies’ breath. Some folks’ polarities are negative, some positive. Some glow in the dark. Some snuff out. You now, the two…I – ‘
‘What makes you so sure lightning will strike anywhere around here?’ said Jim suddenly, his eyes bright.
The salesman almost flinched. ‘Why, I got a nose, an eye, an ear. Both those houses, their timbers! Listen!’They listened. Maybe their houses leaned under the cool afternoon wind. Maybe not.
‘Lightning needs channels, like rivers, to run in. One of those attics is a dry river bottom, itching to let lightning pour through! Tonight!’
‘Tonight?’ Jim sat up happily.
‘No ordinary storm!’ said the salesman. ‘Tom Fury tells you. Fury, ain’t that a fine name for one who sells lightning-rods?”
‘But which house, which!’ asked Will.
The salesman walked slowly across the lawn as if approaching a huge time-bomb that ticked silently there.
He touched Will’s front porch newels, ran his hand over a post, a floorboard, then shut his eyes and leaned against the house to let its bones speak to him.Then, hesitant, he made his cautious way to Jim’s house next door.
Jim stood up to watch.
The salesman put his hand out to touch, to stroke, to quiver his fingertips on the old paint.
‘I’m on my way. Storm’s coming.’And jangling his case full of iron rods, the salesman wheeled about and charged down t he walk blinking wildly at the sky, the roof, the trees, at last closing his eyes, moving, sniffing, muttering. ‘Yes, bad, here it comes, feel it , way off now, but running fast …’
And the man in the storm-dark clothes was gone.[Something Wicked This Way Comes; edited]
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I can totally buy what you’re saying @kasch.
There’s a part of me that also thinks that they/Noah wants to grow the community via recruiting people not yet part of the experience. It was key to the beginnings of Tension and it may work even better now that there’s a much more established foundation.
I feel like part of what wanda102 was originally asked (to choose someone from the public) is going to come into play sometime soon. Maybe even a pyramid scheme of sorts is in the works.
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I agree that this does seem to be where Lust / Noah is going. We had to work very hard to build and maintain this community last year, and what I’m seeing is intentional provocation of the same problems and issues that Tension could not handle, which at times threatened the game itself, and left some friendships in tatters.
I’m not very entertained by this, it feels exploitative and ungrateful.
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@111error It does feel exploitative right now (and I agree with @kasch’s theory above) – but for the time being I think it’s probably also a good idea to remember what @coryphella said the other day. The Creators deserve some trust based upon what Tension ended up becoming, and given how fresh this experience is, we should keep that in mind. Not much has happened yet, and ultimately, it’s up to the community to keep itself united against the efforts of the Sinclairs, or any other divisive force.
Granted, given that Darren and Clint no longer appear to be involved anymore that makes the trust issue a little more complicated… but it just makes our collective responsibility as a community that much greater.
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@kasch this wild theory of yours has been something I’ve entertained a bit. 🙂
That war backfires thus leading to Adrenaline where we all are running for our damn lives.
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That would be an inspired sequence of events, @kasch and @mkarrett. This experience has always been pushing the boundaries of what control means in an experience like this. How active can the audience be? So much of the essence of lust and specifically Noah’s system is about taking control of your own destiny. What comes after we get it? We’re done being led around from room to room. We aren’t audience members any more.
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@mkarrett And then Nefarious would mean… they catch us, I suppose?
Woof.
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