Roleplay By Monologues

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A teacher was giving his pupils some schoolbooks. He wrote something on the boards and asked for their attention.
" Just don't believe everything written in those books. We don't need people to know the truth. The truth is boring so we covered it a bit with cowboy stories so nobody will know the differences. And if you are going to vote, please don't look at the persons themselves but choose who your parents want you to vote for. And keep in mind; ignorance is your best friend here and tolerance is your worst enemy".
The children wrote these golden rules and started to play a game they only could understand
 
The children had to be told when it was almost time for school to be dismissed, because all of them had forgotten to read a clock. And when they did leave the school, although Trinity and Ghost happened to be passing by, not one of the kids--even Matrix fans--recognized them, because Trinity now had long hair, and Ghost was not with Niobe. The kids had not learned enough reasoning skills to be able to figure out that Trinity COULD grow her hair longer, or that Ghost COULD be working with someone besides Niobe.
 
While Trinity headed off to visit the Castle RP thread, Ghost began stalking two suspicious men who appeared to be selling narcotics to sixth-graders. Closer observation corrected the first impression: it was the sixth-graders who were selling drugs to adult men. "That school is REALLY messed up," thought Ghost, and set out to trail the buyers.
 
...while Bat-Bat stayed stalking the sellers in case they decided to go on vampire RP quests with all the money they made.
 
Ghost soon learned the reason why the men he had seen were buying drugs: they wanted to escape from ONE PARTICULAR facet of reality. The one facet of reality they couldn't stand was that each man had a 13-year-old daughter who had gotten engrossed in online roleplaying. The fathers did not automatically oppose fantasy; but these girls had become SO caught up in imagining that they were 13-year-old runaway princesses riding horses on lonely quests which no icky adult could understand, that they had even forgotten the names of their own actual family members.

"If I had a daughter like that," Ghost said to himself, "I might go crazy too."
 
Meanwhile, the executives at Walden Media were holding another conference to determine if there were still other great stories they could intentionally ruin. One of the empty suits thought he had a brainstorm: "How about scrambling up some actual history? How about a hatchet job on Sergeant Alvin York, the American Christian patriot from World War One? All sorts of distortions to be made there! In reality he was a fantastic marksman; but we could say that he was so clumsy, he could shoot at the ground and miss it..."

"Oh, yes, yes!" squealed a female executive, warming to the possibilities. "We could say that Sergeant York had a six-year-old sister who sneaked along to the war with him...that SHE really shot all those German soldiers...and that he STOLE the credit, because ALL men are evil patriarchs who refuse to admit the superiority of women!"
 
Bat-Bat, who really was a nice bat in real life but who at times forgot that Aslan is gentle and merciful, waited outside the Walden Media building. His initial intention was to throw his batarang at that woman's head, but then Emmett the gunslinger appeared and told him that that was unchivalrous, although very funny. Bat-Bat of course listend to Emmett and realized that was not good bat behavior so he decided instead to wait until she was gone and then fly to her office. Bat-Bat was going to check her computer activity there because he was sure that that woman executive had started all the Vampire RP nonsense.
 
Bat-Bat learned that, although this woman executive did not have sole control over vampire stories in popular entertainment, she WAS part of a secret society which had for decades been working to guide a trend in horror movies and similar things. The plan, mostly accomplished by now, had been to take horror stories through three stages:

1) Classic horror stories, in which it was still "permissible" for God to have something to say about events--thus, crucifixes being highly effective against vampires, etc.

2) Pessimistic horror stories, in which there is NO power on the side of good at all, faith in God is shown as utterly worthless, and evil is depicted as unbeatable.

3) Humanistic horror stories: offering relief from the hopelessness of evil always winning--but NEVER through ANY connection with God, ALWAYS by the unassisted efforts of powerful humans, usually women like Buffy the Vampire Slayer, or Milla Jovovich's "Resident Evil" character.

The third stage was the ideal state of things for the secret society: let human heroes, who made up their own morals, be the ONLY defense against monsters who ALSO made up their own morals and were mostly distinguishable from the "good guys" only by being uglier.
 
Emmett the gunslinger invited Bat-Bat again to the restaurant for another fruit dinner and Bat-Bat gratefully accepted. He had not eaten anything since the last time when he had set straight that pseudo writer who made his living writing vampire stories.
 
Bat-Bat was impressed at the Gunslinger Steakhouse having so much vegetarian food available. To this Emmett replied, "Ain't no rule that a fella who eats meat CAN'T eat fruits and vegetables too. God Himself, now that the kosher laws of the Old Covenant have served their purpose, reckons as how all foods is clean, givin' us freedom in our diet. (Yep, I have been talkin' with the parson pretty regular.) Old Joe Squid fills the niche for the folks who judge vegetarianism to be healthier for 'em; but for himself he's with me on freedom of culinary conscience. Which is why he really goes for the 12-ounce prime rib here at my place."

"Isn't it a little weird for competitors to eat frequently at each other's restaurants?" asked the superhero.

"Not when they're friends and fillin' different market niches, it ain't," insisted the gunslinger. "Free enterprise don't haveta be cutthroat bushwhackin', you know, even if movies make it look like it is. I try to even out times when I go there and Joe comes here."
 
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Meanwhile, the evil movie-studio executive, unaware that Bat-Bat had uncovered the existence of the evil cultural conspiracy she was part of, continued working to undermine people's belief in heroism and high moral standards. Her next project was to outline a distorted historical movie about Clara Barton, founder of the American Red Cross. She didn't like smearing someone who was both a woman and theologically very liberal--but it was worth it for the sake of pulling down heroes generally. So she wrote a treatment in which Clara Barton quarrelled with everyone, cheated and stole, had an endless series of adulterous affairs, etc., etc.
 
Captain James Hook, pirate extraordinaire, felt the audacity of hope for a change he could believe in when a politician came to Never-Never-Land. The politician began advocating a Fairness Doctrine, under which, for every time Peter Pan won a fight against Captain Hook, there had to be a fight in which Hook defeated Pan. But the Indians and the Mermaids all sided with Peter Pan, even when the politician shouted the word "Change!" at them. For some reason which was incomprehensible to a pirate-sympathizing politician, the Never-Never-Landers regarded "fairness" as meaning that good should be superior to evil.

So the disgruntled Captain Hook and his pirates left Never-Never-Land altogether. They tried their luck in Hardly-Ever-Land, Occasionally-Land and Fairly-Often-Land. It was in Most-Of-The-Time-Land that they struck it rich: finding and stealing Captain Hummingbird's hidden treasure trove. They came away with rum, gold pieces, rum, silver pieces, rum, diamonds, rum, rubies, rum, emeralds, rum, pearls, rum, and some excellent photographs of Keira Knightley. There were also pictures of Lindsay Lohan, which they used as cage-lining for the ship's parrot.
 
Captain Hummingbird went on the piratical nightly newscast (PNN) to issue a formal complaint that an unregistered illegally immigrating group of pirates who only spoke NeverSpeak had absconded with his rum, gold pieces, rum, silver pieces, rum, diamonds, rum, rubies, rum, emeralds, rum, pearls, rum, and some excellent photographs of Keira Knightley.

"Where has my rum gone?" he demanded. "The government owes me some!"
 
Captain Hook retorted on his weblog that Captain Hummingbird was an illegal immigrant EVERYPLACE he went.
 
Captain Hummingbird went out onto a freeway overpass and stood with a cardboard sign saying "Someone (I won't say who, but his name starts with Hook) took my rum. Please have pity on me and give me money."

Several passerby of course promptly waved cash at him out of their windows just because he was holding a piece of cardboard and looked scroungy. It was easily enough to buy plenty of rum and to take out multiple glossy magazine ads and prime-time television spots accusing Captain Hook of welfare fraud and of harboring illegal amoebas.
 
Meanwhile, Jake brought Trinity back to the Gunslinger Steakhouse and introduced her to Emmett. Emmett was disappointed to learn that Trinity's heart belonged to someone who looked like Keanu Reeves; but then he brightened, remembering his pessimistic contest with Copperfox. "Do me a favor, Miss Trinity," he said: "pretend that I made a pass at you, and hit me."

Once assured that he meant it, Trinity slugged Emmett hard in the jaw, then delivered a spinning kick to the side of his head. Emmett bounced up from this immediately; while not having the woman's kung-fu skills, he had a long-developed toughness which could absorb a lot of punishment. "Thanks, Trinity. Now I can brag to Copperfox about scoring the first new rejection since the contest began."

Trinity was hired on as the new hostess--and bouncer in case of emergencies.
 
Back in Never-Never-Land, things grew boring for Tinkerbell with the pirates gone; so she grew herself to human size, mounted a horse, and rode off alone to pursue a mysterious quest that no one else understood.
 
The problem with having a quest on an island is you eventually come all the way back around and find yourself where you started. Alas for Tinkerbell, this was her fate. Round and round she and the horse went, wearing a path through the jungle fronds until the rest of the inhabitants began to be rather annoyed about it all.

"Now look here," Tiger-Lily said, jumping out of the bushes into Tinkerbell's path. "What exactly are you questing for anyway? We'll help you find it!"

"Hi-yi! Hoo-yoo! Hoi! Hoi! Yah!" shouted all of the Indians happily, anything was better than listening to yet another of Tiger-Lily's boring stories or playing marbles.
 
"I'm not sure _what_ I expected to find," confessed Tinkerbell. "I just know that lots of 13-year-old human girls think this is a fascinating thing to do."

Tiger Lily, who had gotten connected online a year or so ago, explained to the fairy: "That's part of a narrow subculture, found online. A lot of 13-year-old girls have a fantasy of being so superior to everyone around them, that supposedly those others could never begin to understand what lofty goals the 13-year-old girl has. Thus there's no point in including anyone else in the pursuit of those goals...even if the 13-year-old girls are in fact not yet intellectually sophisticated enough to define _what_ would make a lofty goal. The horse represents the availability of strength and speed, without being a rival to the girl's inflated estimate of her own wisdom. The whole concept, for many of those obsessed with it, is a way of scorning and dismissing other people."

"You want intellectually unsophisticated?" snorted Tinkerbell. "Spell that T-H-E L-O-S-T B-O-Y-S!"

"Oh, I know the Lost Boys very well," said the Indian princess. "But at least they have adventures _together,_ instead of each one deciding he's too good to be bothered with other players."
 
"Wow," the horse said (for it was a Narnian horse), "Tiger-Lily sure is a verbose, erudite and well-educated for a red-haired fake Indian maiden on an isolated island. She must have come on the same Narnian shipwreck that I did!"

"Hi-yi-hoi-hoi!" the boys hollered, completely ignoring the talking horse. Boys love to hear themselves holler, the louder the better. They beat on their drums.

Somewhere off in the far distance the Mermaids began a lagoon conga-line.
 
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