#Or going out in a blaze of glory during an all-out battle with the machine who finally knocked some sense into his head | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kangaroo-sniper-imagine · 4 years ago

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Unintimidating reader who’s a killa killa

-snipers is longer solely because ive had that idea in my head LONG before i got this request-

-also, little gorey so beware-

Medic

Ludwig is almost instantly enamoured with you once he got comfortable with you on base. He finds you sweet and calls you “kleine krankenschwester” (little nurse) whenever you insist on helping him in any way with his workload. You apologize when you bump into inanimate objects and try copying Archimedes’ cooing. You’re a cupcake!

And finally he gets a good eyeful of you on the field. You’re brutal and vicious and smiling the whole time as you bash in an enemy Heavy’s head with a sledgehammer. You take out an enemy Scout’s leg with your weapon and let him try and crawl away from you before you finish him off with a laugh. Ludwig is now convinced you’re his soulmate

Our dear doctor loves tenderness that hides ruthlessness. Loves that you are sweet as a bumble bee to your team but a beast to your opposers. He’s excited at the new possibilities between the two of you know that he knows that he no longer has to hide his own ferocity with his experiments in front of you

Sniper

Hell, Mick isn’t even convinced you should be on the field. You wore brightly colored clothes and skirts and for fuck’s sake you bake, all. The. time. You're like Holly Homemaker, why the hell are you hanging with a bunch of mercenaries? How were you even picked for this job? At your first match, he debated on whether he should watch you from his perch to protect you or do his job. He chose his job, duh. But only for a few matches. When he finally decides to track you,and oooooh boy.

An enemy Spy has his knife in your shoulder, pining you to a wall. Mick doesn’t have a clear shot to take out the spook without getting you too. It’s not fun watching a teammate die, even if they do come back. But right as he was about to shift his attention to the main battle he sees it. You. Pissed the fuck off.

Mick watches with interest as you grab the hand that’s stabbing you with one of your delicate hands as the other grabs the spook’s lapel and drag in the enemy, mouths crushing together. A shot of betrayal and shock freezes the hitman before he sees it. The red running down your chin; the struggle of the enemy Spy trying to thrash himself away from you; the look of manic rage in your eye. When you let the Spy go, Mick can see teeth but no lip and it hits him. You bit off the man’s mouth.

After you swiftly wretch the knife out of your shoulder and into the neck of your opponent, you wipe your mouth, you call for a medic and return to fighting. Mick is now a little scared of you, but now will no longer ever think again that you can’t handle yourself on the field. Never brings up what he saw but will sometimes watch you work now

Heavy

Mikhail already finds hardly anyone intimidating, you are no exception; especially with your short stature and demure demeanor. He worries about you honestly, watching you to make sure none of the other mercs try to take advantage of you because you give off the energy of a doormat. It’s his big brother senses in part, he thinks, also in part of because he has a leetle crush on tiny woman who will listen to him drone on about Sasha and Russian literature well into the night.

You do more protecting than defending during the fighting. You watch the case and keep people away from it as Misha mows down the enemies to keep them away from the intel (and you), so he hasn't had the pleasure of watching you work. But buddy, when he gets it. A chance of happenstance allows Heavy to finally see you operate, lets him see you sit pretty as the enemy steps on your hidden bombs and walk into the line of your automatic tracking weaponry and get mowed down in a hail of bullets as all you do is smile and hold the briefcase. So well covered by your own inventions you don’t even need to be worried as the blood of your enemy splashes up onto your clothes

Misha finds you even MORE endearing now. Man loves intelligent women and if you made all of those killing machines holy fuck, could you mod Sasha?? You’re in your element as you effortlessly kill the opponent, and Misha loves watching your inventions do what they do best (he feels a kinship with your weapons as he too, preforms extreme violence to protect you) (He’s still gonna watch your back at the base tho for sure)

Scout

You were like another Spy, except without all the European flair that Spy had. You were kinda bland, tired looking. Jeremy’s never seen you train or fight; you spent most of all your free time being “tutored” by Spy to become a better Infiltrator, and frankly, Jeremy is more afraid of bread than he is of you (and not just the tumor filled bread). Spy hasd insinuated that you were ready to finally be put on the field with the rest of the mercs for the next match, and now Jeremy is more excited to have another person to show off to rather than to see you in action

But of course, Jeremy fucks up. He’s hiding in an empty building, bleeding from a shot from an enemy Sniper, and staring at the wrong end of a Heavy’s gun, hating the feeling of defeat. The Heavy was rambling on about something but the wound in his side had more of Scout’s attention; that is, until, a figure slowly, silently descended from the rafters. It was you, dressed head to toe in black save for a sliver of your team’s color on your armband. You look at the monologuing Heavy before giving Jeremy a look that said “Man, he’s a wind bag, huh?” you gestured to the enemy, then drew your finger across your throat with a questioning look in your eye. Scout manages a weak nod, losing focus quickly.

Another long cord, similar to the one holding you to the ceiling, unraveled itself from around your arm, and very quickly you whipped it around the enemy’s neck, jumped onto his back, and wretched your arms back, almost instantly decapitating the Heavy. Even as the lumbering body fell down, you remained upright, hopping off the body gracefully. With swift efficiency, you kicked the head out of the way, grabbed the comically large gun, and aimed it at the door. Before Scour could even ask what the fuck was going on, an enemy Medic came in through the door. Before the German had a chance to yelp, you shot him dead.

“Yo, what the-!” You hastily toss a med-pack at him before melting into the shadow, Scout almost missing the darkening blush on your mostly covered face. After that little save, Jeremy now goes out of his way to be nice to you, and learns a lesson that looks are hella deceiving. It would pay to have someone watching his back on the field without all the unwanted french commentary (and you’re nicer to look at than Spy, let's be real)

Demo

You’re cheerful, but not in the sadistic, almost taunting way many of the other mercs are like. Not like the Doc or Spook. Nope, you were just happy. Not ditzy or stupid or anything, just a smiley little thing that had as much bite as a toothless alligator. The thought that someone could take you as a serious threat, some wee thing that eats rainbow colored cereal and wears bunny slippers throughout the base, was so hilarious that Tavish starts chuckling whenever it crosses his mind. The two of you don’t typically fight together, you sticking to high ground to pick off enemies as Demo gleefully stays in the thick of it all to implode the other team

Due to unfortunate circumstances, you're both pinned down together, shoulder to shoulder under a makeshift barrier as the enemy gets closer and closer; your bow at the ready with an arrow and his bombs prepared to go off at his command, but no opening to go up and take a shot/throw a bomb. You huff, looking around wildly before nodding decisively, looking to Tavish. “Gimme one of your sticky bombs.” He complies, half thinking that you’re gonna take the both of you out in a blaze of gory glory.

With a look of determination, you aim in front of you, not even at the enemy. Tavish prepares to die for the third time that day, but this time by his own creation, and you release your arrow. The projectile bounces off a scrap bit of metal on the ground, ricocheting the arrow up into hitting the lamppost, and then flying over their heads into the enemy’s ranks. Once the bomb went off, you instantaneously bounce out of the hiding place and opened fire on the stragglers who didn't get offed by the bomb. Tavish can only stare as you mow down the other team as a random stream of sunlight illuminates your figure. Demo catches feels in that moment

Pyro

Pryo liked that you were lowkey and sweet. The fact that you weren’t especially harsh or violent while relaxing initially made them flock to you just to hang out in their down time. Pyro loves to give you cute little toys and stuffies and see you smile! The only time Pyro really sees you on the battlefield is when they’re looking for you. They’re worried about you! You’re their favorite!

They catch you, mid-battle, covered head to toe in the blood of an enemy Scout, laying only a few feet away. They think you look so pretty! Like sparkles and rainbows are all around you and flower petals are floating in the air and surrounding you (it’s ash; pyro started a blaze not that far away and it was finally beginning to get to the two of you)

Pyro just sees this as more couple binding time, now that they know that you also tend to get a little too into the battle. It’s an excuse to spend even more time together

Engineer

This boy was so dang in love with you and he’s never even seen you fight. On the base, you were as sweet as a peach and harmless as a mouse. You spent most of your time in Dell’s workshop helping him with menial tasks like refilling his coffee mug or reorganizing his tools or alike. You got along well with all the other mercs and were quick to help others. Dell never really saw you while fighting because he had to stick near his machines while your job took you all over the battle field

He hears about you fighting from the others. Scout was retelling the group about you “friggin’ awesome fight” between you and an enemy Medic. You had, according to Scout (and Heavy, who nodded along in agreement) got into a fist fight with the enemy, physically beating them into submission. Dell wouldn’t believe it if you hadn’t walked right at the end of the tale with a black eye, bloodied knuckles, and a lopsided grin. Dell almost has a fucking heart attack seeing you in such a state. The Doctor heals you up back to normal like nothing ever happened but the fact that you relied on physical violence to fight made him anxious

He doesn't talk to you about fighting differently, he wants to know if there's anything he can do to help you fight, like making special gloves or armor of some type. Homeboy just wants to protect you, he gets hella worried.

Soldier

Jane, seemingly perpetually stuck in the 40’s and 50’s, believes most women shouldn't be on the battlefield at all. And even though you were there working with a bunch of other mercenaries, a lady is a lady and he, the old fashioned man he is, prioritizes keeping you “safe” (taking your kills before you get the chance to land the finishing blows). In his mind, he’s doing you a service. After all, you are far too soft spoken at the base to have any form of bite in you on the field.

Across the field though, one fight, Jane was just too far away to swoop in and “save” you like he normally would; not even his rocket launcher would get to you in time to stop the Spy from doing you in! The instant the enemy’s knife was about to pierce your back, though, Jane saw you turn around whip fast, your own machete thrusting forward to impale the enemy.

The soldier now thinks that your “womanly intuition” is far more superior and more finely tuned than his own, and will now generally leave you alone to fight and stops hovering over you. Will shout out encouragements from across the field whenever he sees that you hack someone apart and loudly brags that you have the “natural advantage” to sniffing out enemies.

Spy

-This is gonna be a drabble cus i dunno how to bullet point this-

Jacque didn’t think particularly much of you. You were a teammate, an asset to be used. On the base you were reserved, spending most of your time in the Doctor’s infirmary or discussing something with Mikhail about books or whatever. You stayed out of his way, not like it was hard for you, seeing as you were just some wisp of a thing, someone who if they sat still long enough would blend into the background like air. Spy never assumed that you would ever be of any use to him in a fight; you just didn’t have the look of a fighter in you.

So right now, his life being in your hands, made him uncomfortable in ways he couldn’t care to count.

The enemy Spy, who was almost as tricky as him, cleverly disguised himself as Jacque, and right as they were about to confront each other, you burst through the door, looking surprised at the two of them. Almost immediately, they started to accuse the other.

“He’s the enemy!”

“No, HE is!”

“The intruder is HIM!”

Jacque will give you some props, seeing as you drew your gun as soon as you saw the pair, but rather than aim it usefully at at least ONE of them, YOU aim it uselessly to the floor! Jacque would’ve scolded you for your unprofessionalism if the imminent threat of death wasn’t less than six feet away from him.

You looked wildly in between the two of them, your normally pleasant face now stricken with panic. Your eyes land solidly on the enemy Spy, and with a sharp intake of breath, you run to him, throwing your arms around him and burying your face into the falsely colored lapel.

Jacque felt disappointment bloom in his chest, along with dread when he watched your mistake.

The spy looked so damn smug as he wrapped his arms around you, throwing Jacque a satisfied look. The gun still was gripped in your hand, still aiming at the ground.

“Ma pauvre petite fille,” he crooned, “est-ce que le grand méchant espion t'a fait peur?”

You sniffle, and bring the gun up to the imposter’s head. “Je n'ai pas facilement peur.” Jacque didn’t think you could ever say something so coldly, and say it in french to boot. One shot rang out and the man in your arms fell to the floor, suit changing back to what it was meant to be, stained with red from the blood of his fatal wound.

After some deliberation with yourself, you shot him again, in the chest. You looked to Jacque, your face now once again passive.

With a sigh and a dramatic flourish, the living Spy fetched a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it quickly, taking a deep huff before addressing you.

“How did you know that he was not me?”

You holster your weapon back, mulling over your answer. “Few things, uh… you never speak French to me,” you stuck out one finger, “you wouldn’t ever hug me,” another finger, “you don’t stand with your feet that far apart,” one more, “and you smell completely different.” with all but your thumb sticking out, you nodded to yourself before jamming both hands into your pants pockets, tucking in your chin and turning heel back to the door, seemingly finished with your explanation and conversation.

Amused, Jacque took another slow drag of his cigarette, planning on paying more attention to you in the future, being sure never to underestimate you again.

-this, uuuuuhhh, took on a life of its own-

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anneesfollesrpg · 5 years ago

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「ARTHUR CAMNIEL "CAM" KERR LAMBTON 」

40 • SOCIETY • TAKEN BY GRAY

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Mentions of death, war, homophobia, and ableism

DIRECT FROM LE PETIT JOURNAL:

Once, the Viscount Lambton came to France to fight, to lead, to bleed for the liberty of Europe; now, we welcome him as a true hero of La Grande Guerre, bedecked in honours and the gallant scars of battle. Surely, with all those horrors behind us, he’ll be pleased to settle in and relish the splendour of Paris, more-than-restored to glory after the bombardments of the Boche. Bienvenue, Major-General! Keep those medals buffed and your most splendid war stories at the ready.

ABOUT:

Arthur Camniel Kerr Lambton, born a viscount, one day, an earl. In between now and then? Naturally, he’d join the army, be made an officer, serve honourably, then retire to the seat his father left behind, in Westminster. Oh, yes. Cam would make them so very, very proud. It would be easy, too. After all, he was meant for this. His governesses flourished praise, as did his riding and fencing masters: a clever boy, strong, tenacious. The social set adored him. Such a polite, refined child. Such a charming, driven young man. With such a sense of duty, chaining it all in place. Everything one could have hoped for, from an heir.

Of course, he was also supposed to be his brother’s keeper. Little Jack. It was no hardship, when they were children. Nice to have a playmate on that quiet estate. Perhaps Jack could be fanciful, but he’d grow out of it, surely. And… well, when they were out roaming, his brother’s ghostly legends and fairy tales simply became a part of the landscape. Hiking the North Pennines and the Durham coast, tarrying by the River Wear, Cam could leave all - or most, at least - of his many responsibilities behind, wandering through Jack’s fictions and the English countryside.

But it was childish, to keep illustrating those stories they’d shared as he was shipped off to boarding school; his classmates let him know so, quickly. That was nonsense, now. The sort he clearly didn’t have time for. Not with examinations coming up. And once he’d passed out first from Eton - with honours, of course - on to Sandhurst. From there, Cam was eager to join his colleagues on maneuvers, observing war games across the Empire, studying the future of their field. So very eager that he hardly had time to settle down and have heirs of his own. Not that there weren’t plenty of lovely girls, just lovely, hawking for his hand. He was too busy, that’s all. Until he wasn’t - by order of his mother. It was as simple as that. An order, given for his own good as much as the family’s.

So, as he was meant to be, Cam found himself well-married. And, obviously, content. Such a handsome couple. With a beautiful baby boy, so soon - an heir for the heir. But by the time his spare arrived, Cam had been in France for months, serving king and country. While his more modern tactics and youth rankled hidebound superiors, he quickly demonstrated his genuine talents for strategy and leadership. Not that he was any more popular with the rank and file. Even if they were quietly grateful to be serving under his direction, few tommies enjoyed his rather aristocratic company. Not that being loved was important, in such a time and place.

Mentioned in despatches and pushed up the ranks, Cam soon had an entire division to command - twelve thousand men, including, apparently, Jack. Again, after years of bristling back-and-forth estrangement, as his brother became ever more troublesome. Why did he have to be so bloody difficult? Why was he even there, anyway? Too feckless. Too clever for his own good. Too young, too breakable, too close. And so Jack was transferred, as far from the sharp end as Cam could get him without raising eyebrows. Jack could hate his big brother all he wanted, so long as he survived to do it.

He did. Mostly. The news was gutting; his baby brother, chewed apart by a German offensive, shipped home. And still, a war to win. So Cam soldiered on, more hollow by the day. Until he was headed back to Blighty himself, unseamed shins-to-ears by machine-gunfire during the Hundred Days. After years of war, he was going home - to a family that had to look after him, to children he hardly knew, to an honourable discharge he didn’t want. As soon as he could Cam was limping into the War Office, desperate for anything that could feel like a purpose, frantic to be more than the disappointment he was so dreadfully certain he’d become.

And so he was trotted out, their new poster boy: a general officer, wounded on the battlefield. A hero, they called him. Did it matter that he didn’t feel like one? That it ached, in all sorts of ways, to be sent around “inspiring” men who, far as he could see, had every reason to despise him? Of course not. Because he was meant for this, too. Wasn’t he? Just as he was meant to climb ever higher at the Office, to London. Then, to Paris, ready to serve the ambassador - and his family’s interests, his own, in preventing his brother’s most recent and disastrously shameful novel from ever emerging. God; he was meant to be great. How did it come to this?

CONNECTIONS:

The Hophead: Perhaps you don’t see things the same way - you’ve never been the artistic, dreamy sort, obviously - but when the guns of history won’t quit blazing, and the bright lights of Parisian high society start to burn, you’ve been known to step away and share a pipe. After all, misery loves a… friend?

The Savior: You led, and they followed, once upon a time; a time neither of you want to remember, that the world won’t let either of you forget. Part of you wants to reach out. The rest recoils, sure they’d blame you for the worst of the suffering you shared. Why wouldn’t they? You do.

The Sycophant: Their grasping ambition and frivolous excess sums up everything about this age that rings hollow, for you - everything that makes you wonder what so many died in the name of. Is that their fault? No. Still. You find them tiresome, at best. Too bad that doesn’t seem to discourage their attempts to worm into your good graces.

Faceclaim & Pronouns: Matthew Goode, he/him

The General is taken by Gray, they/them.

#af.the general #af.society #af.taken

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mechagalaxy · 6 years ago

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John T Mainer 28840: Temple of the Cog, Cogwork Port

Opportunity

Temple of the Cog, Cogwork Port

“This machine is discharged into your care. Fight with this machine, and guard it from the shame of defeat. Serve this machine, as you would have fight it for you.”

Gustavus Adolfus, once known as the Lion of the North, warlord of Cogwork, now known only as Brother Gustav of the Temple of the Cog chanted the Ceremony of Commission as he turned over the new Smilodon to the fresh faced Myth and Legends pilot. The Smilodon had been one of his favorite machines, back in the days when the Dilophos was the largest to stalk the field, he had hunted them with his Smilodon and covered himself with glory.

Now god machines strode the earth one hundred and five tons, with every manufacturer seeking to go better, build larger. The limits were twofold. First, suspension for the machines was a serious issue. Two legged machines either couldn’t move fast enough or became unbalanced when automatic dodge shifted the center of mass too quickly. Four legged machines simply lacked the processing speed for a central network to coordinate at maximum efficiency; they were stable but dodged poorly. What was needed was instinct, and that came only from the machine spirit. There were few machine spirits powerful enough for 105 ton mecha. How could there be a machine spirit powerful enough for a 110 ton mecha?

Brother Gustav sighed “What machine has a spirit to reach such limits?”

Unaware he had spoken aloud, he was surprised when a burst of machine cant blasted a reply. A picture of some sort of wheeled automaton, ancient beyond belief was inloaded with the binaric cant burst. The coding on the burst read “Opportunity Rover”.

Turning his head, Brother Gustav saw the Archivist Jane, barely more than a child, and hard to keep on task, the young Archavist was considered to be worth training due to her deep love of machine lore, and laser like focus on research tasks that interested her. The code burst had come from her, and she broke into a happy babble as he replied with an automated request for more data.

“Forgive me Brother Gustav, but you asked for a machine spirit that could reach some limit? How about an ancient machine that didn’t just reach its limits, it blasted right through them. Back before the waygates were discovered, before we learned about niode matrix computer systems and travel in space was with reaction rockets, the first missions to Mars were machine probes called Rovers.

One of them was called Opportunity Rover. He was solar powered and supposed to last ninety days on the surface of the world named for the War God. He lasted fifteen years and his last words made me weep, for even as he died his spirit burned brightly”

She made the sign of the Cog with her interlaced fingers and beamed to him the last transmission of Opportunity Rover.

[My battery is low and it’s getting dark]

As a tech priest and mecha pilot, his implant gave him the full feed NASA engineers could only dream of. He felt Opportunity Rover’s status, system by system. Saw the war he waged to save power through the winter dust storms, and the fault from the landing damage; the arm stuck with power on, draining the Rover even when it went to power saving mode. The little machine fought fifteen years through storm and winter, only to bleed out on the lifeless sands of the war world, still fighting to serve its masters with the loyalty of the purest machine.

Turning to the Archivist, he grabbed her and in a flash of binaric cant, for human speech was too slow, demanded to know if Opportunity Rover was ever recovered, where it’s body was, if its coding survived. Rather than feeling threatened and summoning guards, Archavist Jane opened her datafeed wide and a cascade of linked files opened. Opportunity had been lost, never recovered, but mapping programs showed a small area where it must be located, no more than a few square kilometers of broken land, shattered during the planetary bombardment that ended the Star League. It was possible Opportunity Rover survived.

Brother Gustav threw back his head and laughed. “Get your breathing gear, Archavist. Meet me at the mecha bay. You will ride jumpseat in my Smilodon as we go seek this great machine, for such spirit will not go down quietly into death”

On the fifteenth day of their search, the Smilodon’s sensors picked up a unique Gallium Arsenide signature, similar to the Rover solar panels. Digging in with his claws, Gustav burrowed down into he blood-iron earth of mars to find the broken body of the Opportunity Rover. Feeding a trickle charge to the processing core, he received a reply.

[Battery dead. External feed detected, restart systems Y/N?]

Whispering softy, Gustav sent {N} Then a blast of binaric cant. {Your body is broken, great machine spirit, the children of your makers have returned to build you a body worthy of your matchless spirit}

Golden armor from the Cogwork ferrite should have turned the machine bronze/gold, but the blood red of Mars was deep in Opportunity Rover’s soul, and thus the Red Planet bled into the armor of the Cyberdon. The core programming of the Smilodon was loaded into the dispersed processors of the limbs, that it should move with the grace of a Smilodon, but no existing machine spirit could link through such a mass. The test became now to awaken, to live and to know. Gustav turned to the Archavist, jacked himself into the sleeping AI and waited for Archivist Jane to upload the Opportunity Rover core program into the blank AI, so it could infuse the most complex Niode powered artificial intelligence core ever created with the spirit of one of man’s first great transcendent machines.

The spirit born of five hundred and thirty three kilograms of NASA tech flowered within one hundred and ten tons of Niode, Crystal and Ferrite. Pure in its desire to serve, the AI reached out towards its long dead masters, first radio, then slowly, becoming aware of other sensors, it extended its awareness into the new channels, and drank in the wonder of full spectrum active and passive sensors.

[Who are you?] The thought had huge power, and no anger or fear as it washed through Gustav’s pilot implant with quiet sea deep power.

{I am your pilot, Brother Gustav}

[I am not alone?]

{Never again. Nor shall you fear the dark, for your batteries have been replaced with a fusion core that will burn for eternity. No you will not hunt alone, but as one with your makers}

Joy suffused the big machine as it rose and stalked the room, weapons and sensors unfolding and powering up as the AI and Pilot brought all 110tons to purring life and potency.

[I am not as I was. What am I now?]

I sent to him the full glory of his potential development, the full potential of his weapons and systems, and felt him reach into me for memories of ten thousand battles to read what this meant.

{You are CYBERDON} I sent him

His roar shook the temple to its foundation, his eyes blazed with power and I felt his spirt synch the disparate nodes into one tech-organic whole, moving more smoothly than a newborn Smilodon for all his vast size. He was pleased.

Archivist Jane spoke the holy words of union, letting them sound from her lips, and wash over us in binaric cant through every wavelength.

“This machine is discharged into your care. Fight with this machine, and guard it from the shame of defeat. Serve this machine, as you would have fight it for you.”

The machine that would not die lives again. The machine that accepted no limit on the War God’s world will now shatter all limits as it takes the field, the largest machine of war in Mecha Galaxy.

John T Mainer 28840

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kk-dirge · 8 years ago

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an abridged summary of notable events from ts3 total drama

up to day 7 cuz thats how dar i am - longer under cut

day one

pretty uneventful for the first day

EVERYONE crowds around aster

broni friendzoni ignores all this to watch tv, despite everone standing in front of him

jake from statefarm is being nice to everyone

“jake from statefarm deserves a dog”

aster is the first one to pass out

“aster found dead in miami””is she okay””yeah shes alright but she died”

mad science grandma insults broni friendzoni for making everyone uncomfortable

jackie and aster scare everyone

aster wants to get to know fern better and hang out aka “i think i murder is about to take place”

day two

daily challenge roll is locked outside for 24 hours

oh boy

fern has the highest mood so he goes to get food - “hes gonna poison it”

“if there’s fire you can use my insurance” - jake statefarm

“i think he hopes he burns”

everyone huddles and broni friendzoni is outcast, while fern is smart and runs to the pool to cool off

“no one caught on fire” “aw dang i wanted jackie to go out in a blaze of glory”

jake from state farm gets a tan and completely ignores the shaders

like, he was glowing it was terrifying

aster does an evil laugh whenever someone passes out

jake and aster become friends :’)

day 3 aka what a ride

the daily challenge is a random sim dies

the rng picked broni friendzoni, thank god. the evil is defeated.

aster laughs at his death

everyone is glowing and ignoring the laws of shading

aster also grabs food during broni’s death

qwerty hasnt won the race to get food and is set to die

jackie and aster yell at eachother

fern breaks the shower

immedieately after jackie breaks the toilet

friendship ended with jake from statefarm now looker is my best friend

6 hour mark for qwerty’s lifespan

aster wants to see jakes ghost but he isnt dead

“jackie and aster are the only 2 who have a negative relationship. when are they gonna fight”

friendship regained with jake now jake and looker and both my best friends

goodbye qwerty

bonus non-challenge death roll is knubb challenge, loser dies

rng picks aster and jackie

BATTLE OF THE AGES

i revamped the arena to have fog machines and strobe lights just for the occasion

“ITS HAPPENING””its a rave but people die”

“TAKE PLEASURE FROM WATCHING THE MISFORTUNE OF OTHERS”

ASTER FUCKING DESTROYS JACKIE AND MURDERS HIM IN COLD BLOOG

BURN JACKIE

jackie is locked in the sacrificial fire room

but like, he would not die. it took from 12 sim hours for him to finally succcumb to the flame

it took at least 6 fireworks and a failed bonfire

jackie runs away from the fire despite my attemps to block him in

i finally corner him

i might have summoned a fire demon

“say no to drugs, say yes to satan” -jackie

grim reaper pillowfights with jake

the daily roll was something relaxed, adding wallpaper

FULL MOON

fern bores aster to death

jake and aster hug

“JAKE FROM STATEFARM DESERVES A DOG”

“if jake and aster are the last two their gonna escape the island and live of a boat. jake can fulfill his secret dream of diving and aster can catfish people and murder them in the basement “

"this is my roommate aster shes pretty weird haha""sir this is a police investigation"

i cant believe optimistic insurance agent and murder lesbian god are sharing secrets like its a 5th grade sleepover

jake sees mad science grandma skinny dipping and is horrified

qwerty’s gohst comes back only to possess a chess set and insult aster

science grandma and aster get into a fight. aster wins

day 4

daily roll is highest quality toilet

literally nothing happens

day 5

daily roll is the pool is walled in and anyone currently inside it is to drown

bye looker

aster chats with grim reaper

grim reaper mocks aster and it for some reason makes their relationship go up

“can aster bang death. can aster fuck the physical manifestation of death itself”

day 6

daily roll is random sim gets maxed needs, and that saves aster from starving to death

everyone else gets food so i roll again bc i want action

chess challenge of death - fern vs aster

“ NICE SHORTS LOSER “

“either aster kills both ur ocs or the evil is defeated”

BYE FERN

ASTER IS CHAOTIC EVIL

fern claps like “haha sweet im gonna die now”

“if anything dont let jake from statefarm die. hes the only good one. he deserves a dog that loves him.”

FERNS DEATH OF CHOICE IS BLUNT FORCE TRAUMA

he manages to get like 20 candies out of the machine by shaking it until dying

“hes just. laying there. the grim reaper isnt coming.”

“ im sory my oc killed yours in Sim Hell “

down to the final 3 and i hope aster dies and that jake wins and gets 3 dogs because he deserves it

DAY SEVEN - DAWN OF THE FINAL DAY

8 SIMS IN

2 SIMS OUT

#long post #ts3 #shut up zin

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k2kid · 6 years ago

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Private William J. Bartlett was a wizened 35-years old when the letter transcribed below was published. He was a journalist by profession and the object of his letter was 13-years his junior. The former survived the war, the latter did not.

“HE DID HIS BIT”[i]

[BY W.J. BARTLETT.]

Pte. W.J. Bartlett of the 18th Battalion, the author of this story, is a former member of the Advertiser editorial staff. His letters from the front, and from England, have appeared from time to time in this paper.

What a simple phrase, but oh, how deep its meaning! He did his bit for King and country, and then passed away.

What tales of great human struggles this bloody war are wrapped up in this simple sentence. What pain and suffering these brave heroes suffered [where] they passed to the great beyond.

Go where you will in France and Flanders, you will come across cemeteries, and on the wooden crosses you will often find the simple epitaph: “He Did His Bit,” and as I have gazed on the little mounds of earth in a vision, I have seen them fighting in the grim battles, fighting for their very existence, for their King and country. Often I have muttered if only the people at home knew the full significance of the saying “He did his bit.”

Many of the lads who have fallen have performed great deeds of gallantry, but their names have never even been mentioned in dispatches, simply because their heroic acts were not witnessed by the “higher ups.” Every battalion, English and colonial, had had such heroes in their ranks, and their memories will live forever in the minds of their comrades who are spared to pull through this grim war.

The 18th Canadian Battalion has had many brave comrades fall on the battlefield, and though their gallant deeds have never been blazed in the papers, they have never picked out for a D.C.M.[ii] or a V.C.[iii], their comrades who fought side by side with them, midst crashing shells and weird whistling bullets, will always speak with pride of their daring acts.

One of those 18th heroes who hell in action, who did his bit, was Pte. H. Drinkwater of Galt, Ont., and a braver man never donned the King’s uniform.

But I said “man.” In reality he was only a boy, not long out of his teens. He was a Canadian to the fingertips, keen and alert all the time, and full of optimism.

No, he did not have the appearance of a soldier. His featured belonged to the feminine type, and his smile must have been born with him.

Young Drinkwater did not seem to know what fear was. No matter how dangerous a task he was given on the battlefield, he was always ready, and looked on the humorous side of things, even when the hellish shells burst near him and the shrapnel played on his steel helmet.

But it was the at the Battle of St. Eloi[iv], where Drinkwater distinguished himself most, when the terrific struggle for the crater was in progress. It was a night long to be remembered by those whose mission it was to add further honor and glory to the good old Union Jack.

About an hour after midnight, the Canadians set out on their difficult task. From the German line flare after flare went up to search for attacking parties. The deadly machine guns of the enemy occasionally swept the battlefield , and a few shells would whistle through the air and burst with a thunderous roar. But the boys pressed onward to their goal.

Now the hellish sounds of crashing bombs rent the air. Fritz was getting his iron rations. Then it was hell let loose. The enemy opened up this artillery, and huge shells raced through space, high explosives and shrapnel burst among the Canadians. The sky was now lit up with hundreds of flares of many colors. Our artillery was more than equal to the Germans and the guns poured forth murderous volleys. While the battle was at its highest, young Drinkwater, who was in the think of the hellish destruction, was called upon as guide for an officer. From place to place he led the way unflinchingly. The shells falling all around and the very earth quivering from the might explosions. Yet he accomplished his heroic task. Then again he went back to the crater, and this time he volunteered to bring in one of our bombing parties just before daybreak. Again he was successful, bringing back every man safely. It was, indeed, a plucky daring deed, and the hero came through unhurt.

But the fortunes of war are very strange. About a month after he was again in the trenches. Some seven comrades were with him. Young Drinkwater was talking of the good old days he spent in Galt and of the good times that were coming. Some dozen shells had fallen near when the merry conversation was in progress. Then in a few seconds the scene was changed. A big explosive shell fell amongst them with a terrific, deafening explosion. The laughter, the merry conversations were silenced, and the groans of the wounded rent the air. Young Drinkwater, the fearless Canadian lad, was among the wounded. Quickly his wounds were dressed, and he was carried on a stretcher to a dressing station. He was still conscious when carried out, and his chances seemed good in pulling through. But some hours after he left the suffering clay. The cruel ordeal was too much for him. Life’s curtain was rung down on the brave warrior’s life. He had done his bit.

The letter speaks eloquently to the actions of Private Drinkwater and this soldier obviously had an impact emotionally on Bartlett as he writes with keen direction and purpose to his audience in order to convey and portray the heroism and youth of his subject. The letter also expresses, at a soldier’s level, the intensity of the combat at St. Elois Craters, the 18th Battalion’s first blooding during battle.

As can be seen from his photograph Private Drinkwater did look young, and at 5’ 3.5” he was shorter than most of the men in the Battalion. He needed permission from his mother, Mary Drinkwater, duly gave permission to her then 20-year old son to join the Canadian Expeditionary Force with the 18th Battalion. He enlisted at Galt (now Cambridge), Ontario on October 28, 1914. Drinkwater must have been eager to go to war as enlistments had only started with the 18th Battalion on October 22 of that year.

Bartlett, as mentioned, was part of the editorial staff at the London, Advertiser and he had enlisted with the 18th Battalion at London, Ontario. He was not as quite as eager, joining on December 2, 1914, but he joined early enough to become one of the “originals” to form the Battalion before it went overseas.

It is not clear from their service records how these men were connected. We do not know if they served in the same platoon or company. Perhaps Drinkwater’s actions were widely known to the men of the Battalion, the stuff of martial legend. What is apparent that during the morass that was the action as St. Eloi Private Drinkwater kept his head and was able to guide an officer through the confusion of the mutilated and mis-numbered craters to help that officer in some constructive fashion. Drinkwater further distinguishes himself getting a party of bombers that are outside of contact with the rest of the Battalion back to the relative safety of the main line of resistance, such as it was during St. Eloi.

Bartlett establishes vividly the crucible in which Drinkwater distinguishes himself. St. Eloi was an introduction to the hell of intensive trench operations, that was exacerbated by poor execution at the divisional level.

Tragically, as young Drinkwater speaks of the future, his is brought to am moment that would lead to the conclusion of his life. He would die of his wounds at the No. 6 Canadian Field Ambulance on April 25, 1916. Ironically, on that day, the 18th Battalion War Diary states, “Battalion in Trenches. Very quiet day, nothing unusual occurred[v]. LIEUT. H.A. COLTER arrived as reinforcement.” The irony does not appear to be lost on Bartlett. Part of his message about his comrade is about how the actions that merit recognition are not, and he does take a swipe at the process of nominating awards as, at that time, only officers who witnessed acts of valour could put those acts forward for consideration of recognition.

The letter offers a glimpse into the admiration of one soldier for the valour and duty of another. Bartlett is a journalist and a wonderful instrument of expression towards this end. He gives a look back at the feelings of a soldier – a mixture of imperial nationalism and pride (“For King and country”) mixed with a hard-bitten scepticism of knowing that the public will never know the sacrifice, in part because of the “higher ups” and the military bureaucracy that prevents soldiers like Private Drinkwater to be recognized (he never was except for the standard war medals, scroll, plaque, and Silver Cross for his grieving mother) for “Doing Their Bit.” Bartlett helps his audience to understand a bit of at what cost this service comes.

As a further testament to Private Drinkwater, a letter from Captain Samuel Monteith Loghrin, the Company Commander for “B” Company of the 18th Battalion wrote of some of the experiences he shared with Drinkwater. It was Captain Monteith that was led by Drinkwater during the St. Eloi action:

“”I regret very must to inform you of the death of your son. He was killed when on duty with our company. A heavy shell struck the trench where he and two others were standing, and all of them were wounded. Your son was conscious when being removed on the stretcher. I thought he would recover, but found the next day that he had died in the ambulance between the first dressing station and the field ambulance. He was buried in a cemetery close to our rest camp where I am writing this letter, and I intend to go up to the cemetery and arrange for marking his grave with one of our regimental crosses. Your son died doing his duty and gave his life in a noble and honourable cause. He was a bright, cheery boy. I remember before leaving England he had appendicitis and was to be left behind. He came and pleaded with me to be taken with the 18th Battalion. I spoke to the doctor and we arranged it, and for a time I lightened his duties until he was strong and well. He was a very brave young man, and acted as a guide for me one night in a grenade attack.[vi] Not the least sign of fear did he give, but was joking all the time, even when the metal was flying like a snowstorm. His humorous disposition made him very popular with the boys and he will be much missed by all of us. As a father, I can partly appreciate your sorrow. If I can be of any assistance in giving further information I will be pleased to do so.”[vii]

[i] Submitted to the author by Allan Miller, curator of the 149th Battalion CEF – Lambton’s Own Facebook Group. Original article from: The London Advertiser. June 6, 1916.

[ii] Distinguished Conduct Medal.

[iii] Victoria Cross.

[iv] It is strongly recommended to reference Cook, Tim (1996) “The Blind Leading the Blind: The Battle of the St. Eloi Craters,” Canadian Military History: Vol. 5: Iss. 2, Article 4. Page 25.

[v] Author’s emphasis.

[vi] Author’s emphasis.

[vii] Galt Weekly Reporter, May 11, 1916, Page 1.

“He was a Canadian to the fingertips…” Private William J. Bartlett was a wizened 35-years old when the letter transcribed below was published. He was a journalist by profession and the object of his letter was 13-years his junior.

#Captain Samuel Monteith Loghrin #Galt Ontario #London Ontario #Private Harry Drinkwater #Private William J. Bartlett #St. Eloi #The London Advertiser

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garynsmith · 7 years ago

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What the hell is Keller Williams doing? Lingering questions from the Vision Speech

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Reposted with permission from Rob Hahn. Read his follow-up thoughts to this post here.

Writer’s note: Some of the early comments focused on Inman’s reporting, and my reliance on that as some kind of a flaw. I have now watched the entire speech on video. I stand by my analysis in this post. If there is a flaw, please feel free to point it out, but don’t have it be because I wasn’t present at the speech. It’s all on video, and I’ve heard everything Josh Team and Gary Keller have said. If anything, Inman was bland and downplayed the coverage.

It’s been a busy few days, and not likely to get any less busy for the foreseeable future, but I have to talk about this. As Inman reported:

Real estate franchisor Keller Williams debuted an artificial intelligence-based virtual assistant and referrals platform today, announcing to the world it has every intention of thriving in a changing industry.

“We are a technology company. No. 1 that means we build the technology. No. 2 that means we hire the technologists … We are not a real estate company anymore,” Keller Williams co-founder Gary Keller declared today at Keller Williams Family Reunion in Anaheim, California.

Obviously, Gary Keller is a freakin’ genius with a track record of success longer than my leg. Actually, since I’m not that tall, longer than James Dwiggins’s leg.

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Not everything he’s tried has turned to gold, but he’s succeeded more often than not. I have long admired Keller Williams on a lot of different levels, and I’m willing to concede that Gary and company are brilliant businesspeople.

So this announcement, and some of the language that came out of Anaheim during KW Family Reunion, is, well — confounding. I’m completely confused. What the hell is KW doing?

Either KW has decided that a fast glorious suicide is preferable to slow decline and irrelevance, KW has decided that staking its reputation on a giant lie is good for its brand, or there’s something else going on that I just can’t figure out.

Let me explain.

Buzzwords do not a product make

First of all, I’m relying heavily on Inman’s reporting from the event here. So if I get something wrong, or missed something, well, blame me for not being at the speech, and then blame Inman for being there and misreporting something.

Editor’s note: Inman reported from a live streaming video of the event.

Writer’s note: I have the best readers. See the end of the article for links to the speech.

But immediately after the “we’re not a real estate company anymore” the Inman article goes into a long deal about Kelle, KW’s now “Artificial Intelligence” app. Here’s the promo video on Kelle:

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That’s not artificial intelligence. That’s a voice interface to dumb search, much like Apple’s Siri, which is about as “intelligent” as belly navel fuzz, or Alexa, which is scary in that it collects everything you’re saying in your house but funny as hell in how idiotic she is.

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We’re a pretty long way from actual AI, even rudimentary ones. And buzzwords do not a product make.

But that’s not that important because everybody does it. Remember that we work in an industry where lighted yard signs are billed as game changers.

What is important is …

What the hell?

From the Inman article, it looks as if there are two people talking here. One is Josh Team, the chief innovation officer, and the other is Gary Keller. But here’s the extended excerpt:

For KW, that means no longer dealing with what it called “bolt-on” technology. “Bolt-on technology is anytime you use another company’s technology product that you didn’t build and own,” Team said onstage.

Bolt-on tech means being vulnerable to another company’s priorities and updates, according to Keller. Those companies also get to keep the valuable data agents generate, he noted. He pointed to the largest tech companies in the country: Apple, Microsoft, Google, Facebook, Amazon. “These are data insight companies built on your data, which you give to them willingly. That’s the crazy part,” Keller said. [my emphasis]

“You have singlehandedly created the most valuable real estate company in the country called Zillow. They don’t create their own content,” Keller added. “It’s your data. [Real estate portals are] just using money and technology to enhance the experience so everyone wants to go there.”

I know Keller threw out the “Z-word” as red meat to the crowd, but did he really mean to bring Apple, Microsoft, Google, Facebook and Amazon into the mix?

What exactly happens if someone from Google were paying attention to this, and decides, “You know what? KW is a competitor of ours now. We should treat it accordingly.”

How fast does KW go kaput if Google decides to delist all KW-related websites and links? I mean, sure, KW will go out in a blaze of glory as the little company that defied the giants, but go out it will — quickly.

Apple? Microsoft? Is Keller Williams launching a laptop division I didn’t know about? A productivity suite? An operating system? Does KW make cellphones? Are KW agents going to stop using Facebook going forward because God only knows the amount of data that Facebook collects on them, which they give it willingly?

Oh, no, no, Team and Gary didn’t mean those tech companies. Surely not. True, they all make technology that KW did not build and does not own, but they didn’t mean laptops, the iPhone, the Pixel2, Amazon, Amazon Web Services, Gmail, Google Apps, Dropbox or copy machines.

That would be ridiculous, even though Keller mentioned several of them by name.

Surely KW meant only Zillow and the other “bolt-on” real estate tech companies.

Uh, I guess that makes sense? No, not really

I don’t understand that move either, though.

For example, Team picked on Commissions, Inc. because it’s now owned by Fidelity National, which partially owns Pacific Union, and said: “That basically means any Realtor that is using Commissions Inc. is giving their data to a company that’s competing with them if you’re on the West Coast.”

So again, what happens if Fidelity National takes KW at its word and decides that it ought not to work with KW agents because you know, KW is a competitive technology company?

There are parts of the country where not having access to FNF companies could be disastrous for one’s real estate business, you know.

Or even the hated and feared Zillow, usually the unspoken subtext of the “it’s your data!” talk, but in this case, spoken out loud and lumped in with Google, Apple and Amazon. (If that’s talking down your competitors, maybe KW execs need a refresher course on what “talking down” means, but I digress.)

Quite a few KW agents, particularly those who have large profitable teams, leverage Zillow Premier Agent leads for five-times, eight-times, 10-times ROI and then some. Sure they bitch about Zillow “selling their leads back to them,” but they’re happily buying leads on other agent listings on a wide variety of ZIP codes and making a fortune off those leads.

Is KW begging Zillow to cut off those leads to KW agents and agent teams? To what end? How in the world does that benefit their agents and teams currently cashing checks that Zillow leads brought in the door?

I’m reminded of Don Michael Corleone telling Tom Hagen, “You see, all our people are businessmen. Their loyalty is based on that.”

Maybe KW wants to force a showdown to see where its people’s loyalties lie. To what end, I’m not sure, but I’m having trouble explaining this move otherwise.

Even the little guys who KW feels like it can push around and bully: the BoomTowns of the world, the Market Leaders of the world (who is a big part of the KW eEdge platform), the Imprevs, the various other CRM vendors such as Contactually, the transaction management vendors, agent website vendors such as Real Estate Webmasters or Placester or whomever — all of those peeps now have to wake up to the reality that their relationship with KW has a definite time limit, and it isn’t a friendly partnership.

No, they have now been told that KW considers them parasites who are dangerous to the agent:

And so, Team wants to make sure that KW is the winner in the upcoming battle over technology:

And so everything we’re doing, from all of our initiatives, Labs, everyone pooling their money together and creating that fund, growing our own tech budget by … tens of millions of dollars annually.

All of that is around a singular purpose, which is to make sure we are the winner and that Keller Williams creates the solution that allows the tech-enabled agent to win and outperform the technology platforms that want to disintermediate the agent.

If you are a technology vendor today, and you read that, here’s what crosses your mind (or ought to, immediately): “Hmm, maybe I need to work with my other clients like Re/Max, Realogy and HomeServices to make sure that they are the winner, because if KW is the winner, I don’t have a business anymore. They know they’re real estate brokerages and not technology companies.”

How exactly is it good for business to create a whole legion of competitors overnight, all of whom are now incentivized to make sure you are the loser in whatever upcoming war by helping your actual brokerage competitors kick your ass as much as possible?

Finally, aren’t agents 1099 independent contractors in KW world?

And then, the article ends with this bizarre passage:

Keller vowed to adhere to a data pledge that would differentiate KW from other companies’ data practices:

‘We will always respect your data as your business and we will always allow you to take your database with you.’

This means: ‘Your data is your business, and we will never hold your data or your business hostage. If you leave, you can take your data with you, and we will not keep a copy,’ Team told Inman.

That’s good, but given that Keller Williams just spent a bunch of time talking about how it isn’t safe to give your data to a bolt-on technology company who will use that data to create wealth for itself, why wouldn’t a real estate agent apply that same logic to his relationship with Keller Williams itself?

After all, Keller Williams is no longer a real estate company but a technology company that wants you to use technology that you have not built and do not own — such as Kelle, KW Connect, KW eEdge, Keller Cloud and whatever else it will be building and owning with the tens of millions in additional tech funding?

It isn’t as if KW agents are employees of Keller Williams, who receive a paycheck from the company. In fact, agents pay Keller Williams out of their commission checks, don’t they? Aren’t they 1099 independent contractors, all of whom are supposed to be running their own businesses?

“We will always allow you to take your database with you” sounds good, until you think about why you should give KW your database in the first place unless your last name is Keller or Williams and you own equity stakes in KW.

After all, isn’t KW going to use your data to create insights that your competitors — who are literally sitting in the same office as you are — will use to compete for listings, buyers and business?

Goose, gander — you know the deal.

None of this makes any sense.

And then, there’s this …

That’s just tech vendors. You know what else Keller Williams did not build and does not own where KW agents constantly input their data to be compiled and used to create insight that benefits competitors?

The multiple listing service.

The single biggest “bolt-on” technology that the agent uses day in and day out is the MLS. KW just told all of its 175,000 or so agents that it isn’t safe to put their data into a third-party bolt-on technology that they didn’t build and do not own.

I mean, if they’re going to be dissing Commissions, Inc. because Fidelity National is the corporate parent, which means using CINC equals giving your data to Pacific Union, what the hell do they think of the MLS, which is designed to give your data to your competitors?

And if I’m one of KW’s partners in Project Upstream, I now have reason to question what KW’s endgame is in our little partnership, so it isn’t as if the Upstream folks ought to be cheering Keller on here.

I mean, look at this passage here, quoting Team:

‘We see every contract that’s written. We see every one that’s accepted. We see every one that goes back and forth negotiated. We’re seeing all of this information, so we want the ability to go back and say: “Hey agent, on this contract that you’re writing, did you know that contracts that have escrow of $3,400 or more in this area right now, in this moment in time, in the last 30 days, have a 17 percent greater chance of being accepted?”‘ Team said.

Every contract that’s written? Or every KW contract that’s written? Because if it’s the former, the MLS and the other brokers who contribute to it have to start wondering just how KW got the data on every contract written in a marketplace. Is that covered under the MLS rules?

If it’s the latter, then just how accurate could the KW one database to rule them all be? KW doesn’t have even 50 percent market share in any market in the United States as far as I know.

So if I’m a broker, I know I’m making a phone call to my MLS asking if KW gets contract and offer data from the MLS. Then I’m making phone calls to all of my transaction management vendors to see if KW is getting that data from them.

Keller Williams, whose agents compete with mine for listings and buyers every single day, wants the Keller Cloud to be this one source platform with all of the data to give its people an advantage over mine? Fine, but KW can do that without my data.

Plus, yes, the MLS as a whole tends to be a go-along-to-get-along everybody-cooperate type of an organization that would rather keep its competitors afloat instead of going after its customers, but even the MLS community has started to think about competition and consolidation over My Little Pony data sharing.

What motivates the MLS to keep thinking of KW — no longer a real estate company, but a technology company — as a part of the family instead of a real threat on the horizon and treat KW accordingly?

Of course, maybe Team and Keller didn’t mean the MLS by “bolt-on” technology. Just like they didn’t mean Google, Facebook and Apple. And they didn’t mean dotloop, which is the transaction management platform in eEdge.

And they didn’t mean Market Leader, which is the CRM in eEdge. And they didn’t mean your company, Mr. Tech Company CEO currently providing products and services to KW agents; they meant those other ones that aren’t safe for agents to use.

I’m sure that will be reassuring and compelling to tech company entrepreneurs everywhere — or not!

Relax, we didn’t mean that; it was just a pep rally

Speaking of “that’s not what we really meant,” maybe the whole thing was just an elaborate fire-up-the-crowd pep rally kind of a deal. I mean, social media afterward was full of KW agents talking about how great they are, how wonderful their company is, etc.

Maybe behind the scenes, all of KW’s technology partners (which include Zillow, by the way, whose dotloop platform is a big piece of KW’s tech puzzle) have been privately reassured.

“Hey, so Josh and Gary are going to get up and do this big fiery speech but don’t worry! Nothing changes between us. You understand it’s just a — whatchamacallit — a rhetorical device to fire up the crowd, OK? We don’t really mean what it sounds like we mean, so relax.”

That reminds me a lot of politicians who run campaigns railing against corporate greed while taking a trainload of cash from Wall Street. Or politicians doing the fire and brimstone speech talking about repeal Obamacare OMG! until they win and get into power and do precisely zilch. It’s a lot of knowing winks and nods and “You know, we have to play to our base!” game that goes on.

Except this was billed as a three-hour long “vision” speech, the centerpiece of the convention. If that’s based on a wink and a nod, sheesh, you have to wonder what else could be based on a wink and a nod, don’t you? Trust is a strong bond, but it’s a fragile thing easily lost.

And why in the world would you want to emulate a politician, of all things?

So either KW meant it, or it was pulling the wool over its people’s eyes. Neither one makes much sense at all. Down one path, KW alienates just about every company in real estate, including all of its most important current technology partners.

Down the other path, KW risks its credibility — for what? What’s the benefit here? What is the gain that justifies taking that risk?

I don’t understand it. I really don’t.

Do you understand this?

To be fair, it’s not important that I don’t understand it. Who the hell am I, after all?

It is important that KW brokers and agents understand it. So if you’re one of those, please enlighten me in the comments. What’s that all about?

Because from where I stand right now, the strategy makes very little sense. Not when KW could have just as easily said, “We’re going to work with our friends and partners to create the best agent-centered technology there is to make sure tech is adding value to you, not the other way around.”

Then bring Spencer Rascoff out on stage to talk about how wonderful KW is, how Zillow and dotloop are committed to making sure that technology aids the agent, not the other way around, and making the pledge about “your database” and all that jazz.

Hugs all around, kum-bah-ya moment, everybody wins.

Instead, KW chooses to alienate everybody, or in the alternative, risk its word on a false promise with compromises worked out in advance behind the scenes. Neither makes any sense to me as a strategist. But hey, Keller’s net worth dwarfs mine, so I’ll concede that maybe I just don’t get it.

If you do, kindly explain it to me. With small words. Thanks.

Writer’s note: A reader, who wishes to remain anonymous, sent along these links to the actual speech/presentation by Gary Keller, Josh Team and others at Family Reunion 2018. It looks like Lori Ballen took the video on a cellphone, and then posted to YouTube in five parts. I will commence watching them now. I urge you to do the same, so we’re not relying on Inman’s reporting alone.

Part 1: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_g4UXPAEXPQ Part 2: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=upvbiI5I3_4 Part 3: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0QXXaFIQuGw Part 4: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jhsf75nHD5g Part 5: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NOyVMuAP0do

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Robert Hahn is the Managing Partner of 7DS Associates, a marketing, technology and strategy consultancy focusing on the real estate industry. Check out his personal blog, The Notorious R.O.B. or find him on Twitter: @robhahn.

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