Spite

I'm so impressed by what, your ability to do something in a different game? "This planet" has been in its current format for 500 days and shortly after arriving we utterly whomped you. If we're bragging about our achievements in previous games, I think pretty much all of Mensa can beat you.

In other words you're shit at the game, congrats.

Sure sure... I remember I rolled you back when I started. Now look at my nation and look at your embarrassment of a nation.

I don't expect you to do anything, except reroll every time you get pwned.

There's a finite amount of resources. Not everyone could have a private jet. Not everyone could have a palace. Not everyone could have a brand new apple computer every year. Changing the political or economic system wouldn't change that. Essentially everyone would get an equal share of the pie. Currently if you divided the pie equally, it would work out at about $7000 each per year. Even if you remove profit margins (which you couldn't, because realistically the system needs to produce a surplus to reinvest in growth), then everyone would be living in poverty instead of just some people. And as that system of economic management, which by its nature needs to be statist and government managed, is so corrupt and bureaucratic, growth and development would be stifled. That is why the world has overwhelmingly rejected communism as an economic system and will continue to do so, despite the shortfalls that western liberal democracy obviously has.

Punjab, Pakistan. 11 years ago Around the fire, the dark eyes of the youths glinted. Green robes and sharp swords marked them as initiates, not yet ready for full membership of the Dioist front lines, but eager for battle. Amongst them sat an old whitebeard, his muscles stringy and eyes watery. His hands were gnarled like old tree branches, and every few minutes he tossed another branch into the fire, appreciative of it’s warmth now in a way he never was as a young man. “Gather round, my young swords,†the old man began. “Listen now to the tales of my youth, when the worlds were young, and Dio still walked amongst us as both man and God†Silence hovered after every pause the old man made. Young and strong the audience was, but they knew the wrath of the old man was not to be underestimated. One of Dio’s three hundred, he was a master of weapons such as all of them aspired to be some day. “Listen carefully…†Once, long ago, the Pakistani people were made from the Holy Sands of Pakistan. And when they rose, they were alone. Over time they realised that beyond the boundaries of their holy desert others had arisen. Some were tainted by snow; and the devils that lived in the arctic wastes were anathema to the good people of Pakistan. Others were merely men, not great but with the potential for greatness. As time went on, many of these men made pilgrimages to the Holy Land and dwelt amongst the Pakistanis. Friendships were formed and men and indeed women from foreign lands converted to the Dioist faith, meeting Dio and recognising in him the greatness that all Pakistanis knew. The people rejoiced at the first converts, and as faith took hold, so the Holy Sand responded to those converts as it did to true born Pakistanis. As time passed, war came to the world. The foul stench of the frozen North blew ever southward, corrupting many with notions of avarice and greed. The Pakistanis in their desert fastness were protected by the implacable hand of Dio, and were not affected by this plague. Their friends however, new converts and believers all, were swept aside by this new menace. Their cries of anguish reached Dio in the heart of his desert palace, and he assembled his three hundred finest warriors, and he spoke to them. ‘Our brothers and sisters outside the Land are suffering. We must not let them stand alone. Who amongst you will lead my people and take up the banner of war, driving the enemy forth?’ Of course there were many brave volunteers, but one amongst the many impressed Dio with his valour and loyalty: For it is known that Dio can see the hearts of all men. So Dio said to this one, ‘Rise Falcon’, and thus he rose. In front of the assembled ranks of Pakistan, Dio raised his hands. From the purest sand of creation he spun forth a sword of such power that the faithful shielded their eyes from its glare. With an edge sharper than diamond, it weighed less than the air itself. No snow-born creature could stand against it and the men cheered as Falcon took it up, for they knew no enemy could stand against them. Now let me tell you a known truth- although many Dioists today are seafarers, the Pakistanis of old were not. Safe in their desert, the sea to them was a strange beast. They knew the sky, and the land, and the darkness of the stars, but not the sea. However Falcon knew that to reach the battlefield he must take his men by sea. So he summoned the finest carpenters of the age, and with their skill they built a great fleet. With that great fleet, the Dioists sailed to the far North. There, for many months, they fought. Aye, I was there. No, I will not speak of it- but you may imagine it. The ice cold breath of hell on you every moment, only the fire of Dio to keep you going. Pray that you never face such a thing. When the fighting was done, and the Dioists, victorious and jubilant, boarded their ships, much celebration and joy was spread. A hundred times along the great voyage back to Holy Pakistan they stopped to celebrate their victory. At each stop men got off and spread the joy of Dio to new lands, safe now under his hand. Finally, the fleet arrived in the Indian ocean. However, as they approached the shore a great storm arose, with waves a hundred feet high or more, and like the dark maw of some great shark the sea came for them. Facing down the waves was no more evil than facing the glaciers and ice-storms of the North, and the loyal Pakistanis braved the worst weather. As the storm grew, the fleet became separated, and each ship struggled in their mad dash for shore and safe harbour. Finally the storm settled, and the Dioists made landfall. One by one their ships landed, until at last only one was missing. Falcon’s own ship had gone, and was never seen again. One month to the day after the last ship made landfall, Falcon walked up out of the sea. His eyes had turned from inky black to deepest blue, and he would never speak of what had befallen him in the icy realms of the ocean deep. Only one thing was known for sure. Somewhere, in the ocean depths, he had left behind his sword. Around the fire, dark eyes gleamed, and behind one set of eyes a young man dreamed of the sea, and of another. A dark eyed warrior who had heard the call of Dio and come back a green eyed Prophet. That night the young man dreamed, and in his dream he saw the bright blue sky, the deep blue sea, and beyond it all, he heard the voice of Dio. This story has no real beginning and no real end, but as far as beginnings go, it is as much to say that this boy’s dream was it. The next morning he woke, cast off his initiate’s robes, and walked out of the camp, and the desert, and the world. For eleven long years he was gone, until one day, like Falcon before him, he came walking from the sea. Punjab, Pakistan. Present day. “Oh that we understand the minds of those driven by Dio out beyond the sands. Pray their guidance his forebearance that they may gain wisdom and survive to pass it on.†~ Dioist prayer, author unknown At the centre of the great deserts of Pakistan lies a city of stone and iron, baked by the burning hot sun of central Asia. Surrounded by shifting sands, this mighty citadel was assembled by Dio himself in a single day. It is here, surrounded by the most holy artifacts of the faith, that the High Priesthood of Dio gather to debate matters of law and the guidance of the People. It is here that the great God Emperor himself is known to appear. Here in this sanctum of sanctums a man stands. His hair is cut short, and his beard shaven. His eyes are a deep black and his skin weather beaten and pale. To all in the room he seems an outsider, but he has shown the articles of faith that only a Pakistani born Dioist knows. Facing a silent ring of bearded priests, he begins his story. I was fourteen and in my final year at the madrasat almuharib when I heard the call. I slept a deep and dream-filled sleep, and I saw the dark sky and the moon hanging over the ocean. In my dream I heard for the first time the voice of Dio, and he commanded me to seek out the ocean’s depths. He told me that the alqadr, the course of my life, would take me to many foreign lands, and I would face mighty trials as the warriors of old. He told me that my reward would be further suffering and pain, and eventually my death. I set out the next day. I walked across the deep deserts of Pakistan without encountering another soul, and made my way through forests and jungles until I found myself at the sea. As I stared out across the vastness of it, I realised that it to was a desert of another kind. For a week I waited there for my destiny, drinking water from a stream I had dammed and eating wild animals I caught with my sling. At the end of the week, I saw sails on the horizon and within a few hours small rowing boats landed on my shore. The men there were tall and had light hair and eyes. Wary that they may be Unspeakable Ones from the North, I approached them. They were shocked at first to see me, but after some time we found common tongue in the language of the West. They were traders from the Netherlands, a nation from far away which did not know the word of Dio. They had made landfall to replenish their water on their long journey to the East. When they came to leave they offered me a place on their ship and shared food and drink with me. I agreed and that same day I left the Holy Land behind to begin my journey. We travelled first to the Indies, and then to far-away China, to the dark side of South America and to wild Africa. Across the world their mighty ship, De Reis, travelled. At first I had the most difficult and dangerous jobs; to scale the rigging and change sails. My youthful build allowed me to reach higher than the full grown men. In time my skills were recognised, and I grew as ship’s quartermaster, then second mate. Five years after my travels began I became first mate, and two years after that the Company selected me as captain of a new ship they had commissioned, De Vliegende Oosterling. Despite my success and my happiness, I still did not see the path that Dio had made for me. Our maiden voyage was to be to deliver a fresh load of munitions and supplies to a Company outpost in the Caribbean. Our stores full to bursting, the huge ship sailed from the harbour- it was a proud moment. I see your confused faces at my love for a ship, when all you love is blades. But that is the way of the sea, it entrances you. Well, my love affair was not to last. A hundred miles South and East of landfall we sailed directly into a storm, one of the mighty beasts the Westerners call a hurricane. It drove us before it, ripping the mainmast clear from the deck and killing half the crew. After hours of battle, we managed to slide out around it and limp back towards shore- any shore. Our trial, however, was not over. On the way we encountered two ships flying the black flag, and were boarded. The crew were exhausted and could barely keep the ship afloat- out of all the men only I fought. I was driven back toward my cabin and knocked unconscious. They killed all my men, but for some reason they spared me. When I woke I was tied to the mainmast and another storm had risen. From where I hung I could only hear fragments of shouted commands, but it seemed they were fleeing much as we had. The ship, loaded now with goods from my captured merchantman, was heavy in the water. I watched as the crew threw the least valuable items over the side. Despite their efforts, the storm gained. Oh my mouth is dry thinking of that storm, bitter cold and driven from god knows what hell. I felt the cold breath of snow on the back of my neck and thought of my ancestors fighting as the old man had told me. For two long weeks they battled that storm, and I hung with no food or water. Each night I slept thinking it was my last, and each morning I woke renewed, the fire of Dio burning in my veins. When the storm finally ended, the captain sent a man to cut me down and toss me out to sea. He nearly died of fright when I laughed in his face. The men saw me as an omen- they believed that I was a sea spirit and I had preserved them. I told them that the fire of Dio had kept me alive, and a fear came into their eyes- it seemed that they at least had encountered my brethren. In a reversal of fate, I was given fine clothes and a cabin, and through my days I followed the Captain like a mascot. In my travels I had picked up many languages, and I proved useful to the Captain- reading captured charts and the like. Once or twice on his journeys I even negotiated with prisoners to find hidden cargo in exchange for their lives. The pirates could be cruel, but they were honest- their bargains were kept in good faith. For three years we travelled the sea, and I learned all my skills again- for despite their great skill the Dutch traders didn’t live at sea as these pirates did. It seemed that their ship was held together by raw skill and hope alone, for it was the most shabby and ancient craft I had seen. Every tiny fraction of speed that could be gained was gained, every corner that could be cut was. I once saw that ship turn ninety degrees almost on its own keel to better catch a passing vessel. It was more than seamanship, it was magic. Now the pirates of the ocean are not a people like we are, but rather a collection of peoples. Each ship is like a tiny kingdom, and on the ship the captain is king. They come from all realms, and yes there are even Dioists amongst them. Unlike kingdoms of old, people come and go as they will, and the places they do that are called Sanctuaries. Pirate towns, the Sanctuaries are places where goods can be fenced, men can ship out or rest, and information is exchanged. On the final year of my travels with the Pirates, I went to shore with the Captain in a Sanctuary town north of Madagascar in Africa. A smokier, dirtier cesspit is not known than a pirate Sanctuary, and this was no exception. The one place of character in the town was a vast Inn called the Monkey’s Nut, where Captains and their seconds would go to exchange information, drink and conspire. That day when we arrived we found only one captain and a quiet bar, which was unusual at any time of the day. The lone captain explained to us that for the first time in many decades, a great ingathering had been called by the Grand Admiral of the Pirate Fleet, and all of the Captains were heading back to the Caribbean to hear what had pushed him to doing so. My Captain was angry, since we were due to head East into the Indies and there was scant pickings in the West. Go we did, however. It took us over a month to reach the Caribbean, and the men were mutinous by the time we arrived. Finally we pulled into the great Pirate City of Ogdagonia, hidden in the depths of a rocky chain of islets. The men tumbled overboard like a nest of rats fleeing a sinking ship and we made our more dignified exit later. The Captain was wearing his best, and insisted that I do so as well. He had the ship’s cook-an excellent man with a blade of any sort- shave me and cut my hair short in the fashion of the West. I dressed in stolen finery and we made our way to this great meeting. Through wide paved streets we walked, flanked by great statues- actually the figureheads of ships taken by the Pirates of the City. The Grand Admiralty was a single story building, modest in its height but wide and deep. Inside the floors were polished oak and the ceilings were high and beamed. Light shone smokily through grey windows and oil lamps hung from hooks placed evenly along the walls. Walking down the corridors of this dark palace, I realised that the amount of wealth that flowed to build a place like this would be comparable to that of most nations. I reassessed the loose power base of these pirates and realised that despite the chaos, there was some order there. Finally we arrived in the meeting hall of the Admirality- a vast room with tiered seating on three sides, like a colosseum. Along the fourth side a series of chairs sat, one larger and more throne-like than the others. We took our place in the front row of the seating, and slowly more and more Captains arrived. Finally the admiralty filed in, and the Grand Admiral addressed us. It was war, he told us. We would be fighting a great battle against another people, who had grown weak and was an easy target. To succeed though would require many ships and the cooperation of many crews. There was great interest in this, for despite their fractitious nature the pirates loved to fight and they loved to loot. Their people are united by greed- only their hatred of organisation frees them from the curse of the Northern Terror. When the meeting ended, the Captains began to leave. As we stood however, the Grand Admiral approached us and asked my Captain to attend him in his quarters. My Captain followed the Admiral from the room, and as was my custom I followed him. When we arrived in his quarters I found a room full of marvels from through the known world, collected by admiral after admiral since the first pirates sailed in ancient times. The Admiral explained that the war would require information, and that our ship had proved masterful at reconnaissance and identifying the soft underbelly of potential targets over the past few years. As he outlined the plan however, I began to feel a deep pulsing within my chest. At first I panicked, fearing poison or some other nefarious action on behalf of the Admiral. However he continued to talk in measured tones and I realised that if he wanted me killed, he would simply order his men to finish me. I closed my eyes and concentrated. As soon as I closed my eyes, I realised that despite the darkness of the room, I could see a glowing shape. Opening my eyes, I stared into the darkness of the room. On the wall of this chamber hung an ancient piece of board, as if from a wrecked ship. On that board hung a great sword. The sword of Falcon. Oh yes, I hear you gasp. That which was lost has been found, and it is in Ogdagonia! “Many still speak of that prize (That Holy Prize!) Given by the hand of the God Intended for holy reprise In the depths of the sea, it lies (forgotten, forgotten…) Who knows when, once more it will rise?†Dioist Hymn, GnolTac the Unlyrical, 4th century AD (after Dio) Ah, the Sword of Falcon. Whispered of for generations as the mightiest of weapons. Not more than steel in the hand of the unbeliever, but the surest and most powerful weapon in existence if in the hand of a true believer. One of the most holy relics of Dioism, one of the few items to be made from the True Sand after Creation. Every Dioist in the world would fight for it’s recovery, and now it has been found. When that young boy, who became a sailor, then a pirate, laid eyes on the sword- well it was all he could do not to jump and seize it immediately. The hardest of things, to see your destiny and to turn away. For he knew that whilst he could take the sword, he would never escape alive. So he bided his time, and slipped overboard, and swam to shore, and walked back across the merciless desert, and back into the World. What now? Za Warudo It must be war. tl;dr coming to reclaim our ancient heritage

The only society where there could be no money is one where there are infinite resources. All money is, is a rationing system for goods and services. However you want to call it, unless everyone has unlimited access to resources, then their portion of the total will be rationed. If it is unequally rationed, that is not communism. If it is equally rationed, then everyone is "paid the same", and the problems I mentioned will exist. So basically my argument absolutely destroyed your hypothesis and you have to resort to accusing me of not understanding technological development due to my use of popular nomenclature used within the gaming community of which we are all part? Sure mate.

Falsities by your judgement, the vast majority would disagree with you. Sure religion requires you to believe in something you can't measure with a microscope or a ruler. So do political beliefs. There's no science in kindness or social responsibility. Nationalism or ethics. Despite people's attempts to rationalise human behaviour, it's all based on individual belief and hope. In any case I'm not going to waste both our time arguing this- we've done it before. I'm certainly not going to try and convert you. I think in the long term, despite every atheist's fantasy, the majority will continue to be religious and that's something you'll just have to accept.

Way to generalise the attitudes of 84% of the human population. Are you going to group all philosophies and political beliefs into your hatred, or are you reserving it for belief systems with a supernatural element?

This is typical pseudo-intellectual bullshit. You think the average Joe cares about "mastering nature and becoming fully human". Sure it probably annoyed Marx that he had to live off handouts from his capitalist buddies whist he philosophised. The average person working though doesn't want to retire from labouring and sit thinking about human nature. What they want is to progress, to make money, to buy a bigger house and a car and have all the nice things and to pass a portion of that on to their children. Some people manage to achieve their goals, and some don't. Capitalism can be cruel and someone in a Bangladeshi village with no education isn't going to become the next Bill Gates- or at least it's fairly unlikely and I accept that. I myself would describe myself as a democratic socialist (in UK terms a fabian, in european terms, maybe ordoliberal). I believe the state has a strong role in providing the framework for success and to grant equality of opportunity by providing education, healthcare and equal access to employment. By encouraging trade unions and work-life balance and all that jazz. I don't believe that the chain between personal achievement and reward should be removed though. If you got the same money for being a doctor or a receptionist, why would you want the hideous hours and stress of being a doctor? If you start a company and work hard for 30 years, should you finish your career earning exactly the same as when you started? What is the motivation to work hard? You'd end up corrupt, doing extra jobs on the side. If you don't get fired or promoted based on performance, what's the point in working hard? Basically workers in a communist society are slaves to that society. They have no more encouragement to work hard than slaves in the cotton fields did, because they see no personal reward for their hard work. Asking someone to work hard to benefit their family is going to work. Even their company if it's small enough. But when someone says "your hard work makes our society of three hundred million marginally more productive! If everyone works harder we can all be wealthier together!" people don't care. They just don't. I know I wouldn't care. I know if I work hard, in one or two years I'll get a promotion. Since I worked hard the last ten years since I hit adulthood, I'll earn more than the national median wage. No doubt I will be promoted again if I keep working at improving my education and skillset as I am now. If I was going to get paid exactly the same regardless, would I work hard, study, apply for promotions? Of course not, who cares. I'd do the easiest job I could. I'd pull sickies, I'd slack off. Everyone would. Human nature demands personal development and growth and success. And no, I don't mean dreaming about moonbeams or whatever Marx imagined. Nobody cares about Marx anyway, he was proved wrong. There was no revolution, just a bunch of aborted social experiments that caused the deaths of hundreds of millions of proles.

I don't think you understand how economics actually works. Wealth does materialise out of thin air like magic. Technology advances, methods of communication, industrial production, service provision and so on improve. The West is rich because we're so much further along the tech tree than everywhere else. The technological explosion that gave us that huge competitive advantage war born out of liberalism, free thought, capitalism and the anglo-saxon work ethic. That technological advantage meant that one man in a factory could do the work of a hundred men in India or China. The West became fantastically more productive and produced a huge amount of wealth. That process has continued to the present day, with the most successful countries being the ones who adopted a system with free markets, free thought, an emphasis on education, a strong legal framework that resists corruption and so on. China is, as you put it, becoming a much wealthier nation. Technology is advancing and ideally this would mean a switch to a more service based economy. Right now a lot of people have menial jobs in industry, true. There are machines that could do those jobs, but at present the cost of labour is lower than the cost of machines to replace that labour. As labour becomes more valuable, the population becomes more educated etc (on a global scale) then they will use machines instead of people. Kind of how people use tractors in fields, make noodles using machines, and so on ad infinitum. The main reason that so many startups and new innovations pop up in Western countries is that the infrastructure, educational standards, legal system and market economy encourages innovative behaviour. Countries like South Korea, Taiwan, Singapore, etc which have all of the above grow quickly. Countries with limited the above like China and India grow in a more imbalanced and overall less stable fashion. Countries without a robust legal system, education provision etc grow more slowly and less effectively. A culture where there is no personal reward for hard work, where the law exists to enforce equality, where achievement has no link to anything isn't a society where there will be innovation or growth. In addition, a society where everyone on paper gets equal provisions encourages corruption by its very nature. Corruption leads to inefficiency and lack of competition, which leads to monopoly and ultimately state capitalism. Western liberal democracy, with all the associated benefits (free markets, free people, good education, strong legal system, reliable infrastructure etc etc) is exactly the reason the West is so successful, and no it isn't a zero sum game- it just isn't. This can be proven simply by looking at the per capita income of the world. All that extra wealth just "came out of thin air".

The Archon of Bithynia admires the National Nursery of Arabia for their creative skills when entertaining the fantasies of their mad child Kaliph Abu "Mad Mad" Haddad.

I think if anything, there will be a growth in religious practice across Europe (previously the most secular continent) mirroring the Conservative backlash currently spreading. I think the collapse of any sort of meaningful ideological framework is associated with the decline of the traditional family and religious practice (I'm not saying there is a link, just that this is the perception). I think the wet liberal mindset people espouse these days represents something the majority can not and never will get behind. Whatever you might think, popular atheism reeks of elitism and ivory tower snobbery and that will always put people off. Even lazy catholics like myself are offended by your casual discussions on how eliminate religious people, and "re-educate" them. Implying that religious people are simply too ignorant to know how wrong they are. In my experience some of the most ignorant people are fedora tipping atheists. Also praise dio

Life goes on, the multiple previous extinction events have proved that. Humans have unparalleled control over their environment. Gradual climate change is certainly a big challenge but I don't think it's one we can't overcome

So basically you have no counterargument? Countries with a stable, liberal and democratic system and a free market become wealthy. Countries without those things tend to be poor. The values that liberal democracies espouse-personal freedom, free markets, robust legal systems etc are exactly what allow wealth to be generated. I'm not a rabid capitalist, but communism in a pure form goes against human nature, robs people of their self development, stops them leaving a legacy to their children. And that's exactly why it has never existed and never will. It's a philosophical pipe dream and even debating how awesome it would be is pointless.

Being Dioist is a good defence against all your people dying horribly in a war too!

The book of Dio is available in all good bookshops near you! Dioism isn't a theocracy, Dioism just is.

It's not a cult, it's a religion.Totally different. Dio is an all loving God who looks after those who are awesome enough to look after themselves. Also Mensa is awesome.

Needs more God Emperor Dio Brando

There is no clear example of either a pure communistic or pure capitalistic system in force in the world today. All systems are necessarily hybrids, and all systems are flawed. Some however are more flawed than others. For the most part, people would prefer to live in a western liberal democracy if at all possible. Hence the one directional immigration. Ergo, the most desirable system of government and the most desirable economic system are the ones espoused by the West.

You forget, mighty Soviet army fart Moonbeams and their unicorn cavalry would destroy pesky American sasquatch

I think an early imperial roman legion would have a very good chance of victory against any pre-gunpowder unit of similar numbers.

Now we just have wage slaves, which is the same thing except when your worker dies you lose nothing

Yay!

Ain't never going to be a two state solution, so there's never going to be a Palestinian state. Don't kid yourselves, the Israelis would nuke themselves before they let their country fall to the Arabs.