#but they frame ‘liberty’ as selfish. but the other options in the game do nothing to uproot the systemic inequality that the setting is

[olberic]

triangle strategy freedom path 🤝 tactics ogre chaotic path : better stories than the “ideal” path that the game pushes

[beesartandstuffs]

Shot in the Dark- Game Plan

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~~~

It was rare that the ego “household” was in complete agreement. Typically, their ideas for "domination" were wildly— and often humorously— different. Darkiplier had learned early on that in order to corral his brothers— ahem— counterparts— he'd have to tailor his plans to include their various interests. This was easy enough, as usually all it would take would be catering to their, well, egos. And Wilford was happy as long as he thought it was his idea all along, and that was simple to fabricate. 

Eris was happy as long as Wilford and Darkiplier were happy. Her increasing attachment to the pink-moustached wild card was concerning, but he dismissed it for the moment. It was actually helping to keep her engrossed in the egos' world, which was exactly what he needed. So he allowed it. That wasn't the point, anyhow.

The point was that for the first time in a long time, the egos were rallying behind him.

He stood at the head of the large conference table. For once, Wilford was sitting down at the other end. Eris sat in his lap, feeding him pieces of candy from a large bowl. They were content, and relatively stable for now.

The other egos sat around the table, uncharacteristically quiet (save for the Host narrating under his breath). Watching Dark expectantly.

He smiled, taking the liberty to bask in the moment. It was a long time coming. Toil and hardship had led up to this, bloodshed and tears spilled to make it happen. 

His eyes fell to Eris’s. Wide and silvery-blue, hopeful and blindly trusting. But not empty, no. A sharp intelligence hid behind the dark veil of his influence. Intelligence he had wound around his fingers like a blood-red thread. Manipulated like a wooden puppet. 

She smiled at him, expectant like the others. The cavity in his chest filled with a strange, not entirely welcome sensation. 

His outline split, echoes of a grief-filled scream and a roar of rage made the egos recoil in fright. The lights flickered, shadows filling the corners like a malicious fog. Eris clung to Wilford, who seemed unperturbed and was busy trying to pluck a gumdrop from her trembling fingertips. 

In a breath, the room was lit and Darkiplier was composed and smiling, as if it had only been imagined. The egos relaxed. Certainly they’d experienced similar outbursts, but they were never any less frightened. And Dark was always quick to smooth it over with a charming smile and his chocolatey-rich voice. 

“Gentlemen ...and Dear Eris,” he began, letting his gaze sweep back over the table, carefully avoiding Eris’s eyes the second go around. 

They waited in anticipation. 

He allowed his smile to widen, to become dangerously genuine. This moment was too important not to indulge a little. “We have found him.”

Cheers and whoops erupted from around the table. Google nodded once. Eris kissed Wilford on the cheek. Wilford laughed and slapped the table, rattling the bowl of candy. 

Dark waiting for the ruckus to quiet before continuing. “You can be certain you’ll all have a chance to repay him for how he’s wronged you, but first, he must be captured.”

“I’ll invite him to play on my show!” Bim Trimmer piped up. 

“He can be a guest on one of my ads,” Ed Edgar countered. 

“We could force him into hiding by framing him for murder,” Google muttered. Wilford and Eris both flinched, and Darkiplier nearly did as well. 

“No,” Dark said simply, to all three suggestions. 

“Then I suppose you have a better idea?” Dr. Iplier snarled. 

Dark looked up, toward the other end of the table. A bit distracted, Eris was fishing a piece of candy from the bowl while Warfstache was stroking his mustache and nodding sagely, most definitely clueless as to what was going on. “Wil. Your...television channel. From a while back.”

“Ooh, yes, that was a doozy, wasn’t it?” Wilford giggled as Eris found a sour candy and waved it in front of his nose. 

Darkiplier suppressed a sigh. “His current role is that of an actor. He is just as selfish and manipulative as he ever was and we… have an opportunity to beat him at his own game.”

“Whatever you say, Damie—“ Eris shoved the candy in Wilford’s mouth before he could finish. Darkiplier flickered coldly, continuing with a clipped tone. 

“Jims.” The Jim Twins, crammed into the same swivel chair, perked up. “Set the station back up. Get your brothers to help.”

“Yes, sir,” they chirped, and in a second they were gone, the double doors banging behind them. 

“Doctor, you’re replacing the on-set medic. Start finding out his and his co-stars’ physical weaknesses.”

“It’s what I do best,” Dr Iplier grumbled, stepping through the portal Dark opened for him. 

“Edgar, Shepherd, and Trimmer: distractions. Keep the media away from him. Make him the least interesting person on the planet.”

“We’re far more interesting anyway,” Bim Trimmer said as the three left via portal.

“Host, start on a script. We need a perfect narrative to trap him.”

“The Host nods and leaves the room, already formulating ideas in his mind.”

Darkiplier turned to Wilford and Eris, who were both looking at him expectantly. Eris was still perched in Warfstache’s lap, and he had his hand on her waist. They were the picture of a young couple in comfortable love.

Disgusting.

“Wil, Eris, oversee preparations for the show. I’m counting on you to make it a hit.”

“It’s like you don’t know us at all, Dark!” Wilford said cheerfully. He stood, sweeping Eris into his arms, barely giving her time to blow Dark a kiss before popping out of existence with whatever reality-bending powers he possessed. 

Google tilted his head, frowning. "This is an elaborate plan for such a simple task."

"That's because it is not a simple task." Dark adjusted his tie. "Mark is a showman. He's going to want a show. And we're going to provide it to him."

The android snorted. "Then what use will you have of me?"

Darkiplier turned a pointed gaze to him. "I need you to keep an eye out for intruders. Anyone trying to alter the narrative. We've had interference before and this is a situation where that is not an option."

Google flickered. "Like that boy?"

Dark said nothing.

The android sighed. "I'll get on it."

"Good."

~~~

~~

~

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[anthonybialy]

Bad Goods

I'll never get over how mean it is to expect people to buy their own things. A paycheck takes work, which takes skill. The downward spiral of harshness drags humanity into the depths of commerce. The only thing crueler than having to do things to get money is figuring how to trick someone into paying you.

Capitalism sounds fun. That only sounds sarcastic to those who'd rather dedicate time to creating new genders than developing talents. Basic trading is the enemy of the useless. A way of life that rewards productivity irks slackers without even trying, just like how it naturally enables wealth. The process takes effort by those participating, which deeply offends those who feel people should be too dignified to perform tasks demanded by some boss. It doesn't have to work hard, but you do.

An alleged system doesn't need elaborate mechanisms to take effect, which people should take as a sign. Acting like capitalism is a competing ideology is how those who loathe the notion of prospering through their own toil prefer defining the debate. The natural way of interacting is naturally framed as an evil one at that. Contemporary commies have convinced themselves that the act of exchange which benefits both sides makes everyone poorer.

Those who ruin liberty claim liberty fails. Constant infiltrations into formerly free markets keep traders from interacting. Ensuing lapses are the fault of greedy businesspeople, of course. Acting like the government needs to intervene in housing, tuition, and insurance as if the ironically lawless brute doesn't already stomp around on those territories remains one way of flaunting ignorance self-righteously. Causing the problems one claims need solving is like claiming happiness will come for children once they have a birthday palace with pizza and video games. Chuck E. Cheese will break your kneecaps.

Issues resulting from government screwups are used as evidence we need government to repair. Our logical capital residents hire arsonists as firefighters. We presently enjoy the furthest thing from free enterprise possible while still pretending it's present. Take how health care has been rendered unaffordable thanks to countless promises by government to make it cheap. Note they're not the ones who'll be providing life-giving treatment. It's so kind to offer something by an order.

Viewing getting better as a purchase like any other is the way to make it obtainable. Free trade for health care beats dying on a waiting list while waiting for a promise to be completed. Medical treatment involves nothing more than buying and selling a needed service. The fact it's important is even more reason to not create costly shortages with the flimsiest of guarantees.

Paying for whatever's used is framed as some as an exploitative monstrosity, usually by those who are horrid at it. It's surely coincidental that their personal limitations overlap with their ideologies. Spending the time used to condemn capitalism learning a trade makes too much sense.

Countless interventions into transactions by those who claim to hate unfettered interactions means they got their wishes. Try to block out the sounds of the genie laughing. The notion that America is a harsh Ayn Rand-worshiping zero-government gulch is as preposterous as liking Subway. Haven't you tried somewhere with palatable meat? Businesses getting special protections when they're not being bailed out is risibly called capitalism because particular companies benefit when it's actually the policies of intervention aficionados in action.

The same tax rate for everyone is a crime against humanity. Sure, it's not just the ease of calculation in lieu of pondering if you can deduct meth because you need it to get through tax preparation. But we must keep punishing for success if we're to make progress.

A constant percentage would make it easier to advance. For now, your caring leaders will continue bribing those at the entry level to stay there. It's not like earners will just spend that money on stuff or salaries. Benefiting others by spending is selfish, according to those who claim what's yours belongs to the collective.

The fervor of objections indicates passion in its way. Stringent responses to unabashed commerce match the necessity of destroying opposition. They're totally into democracy except for the part where the government is the only option.

Deciding they have a right to determine how money earned by others should be spent is the totally not sinister way of helping all. We're told how easy it would be for, say, Jeff Bezos to buy insurance for every poor person if he'd just be content with keeping eight hundred dollars per week multiplied by his estimated lifespan.

Budgeting for one-time funding when something's ongoing indicates tremendous foresight. The same way they don't grasp that the wealthy don't just possess a lump sum from which they subtract shows the intellectual depth of arguing for class warfare.

The static thinking behind presumptions that there are just cash lumps explains why some people never get raises in the first place. Economics is nothing but deducting to those who presume value isn't created. How did the piles got that tall in the first place? Continuing to provide useful items and services to customers couldn't be it.

Be thankful those who can afford to quit don't. Many entrepreneurs want to keep working despite having enough cash to buy Triscuits and American cheese for snack time. They continue to receive compensation for helping, if basic business needs to be explained, which it apparently does.

Drivenness is a sin that must keep being committed if statists are to fund their oafish dreams. Assisting others by pursuing their own interests is how corporate titans show selfishness. The true way of assisting the whole is to get rich by providing what others want. By contrast, the collective benefits collectivists. They don't help.