The urge that dare not speak its name
The urge that dare not speak its name

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The urge that dare not speak its name

On Thursday - October 8th, 2009 17:50:24

Unfortunately, the Professor succumbed to the urge. Which urge? I dunno … I can’t really explain it, but it must be very common - without it, there would be no fantasy role-playing games. Imagine how short RPG campaigns would be without that urge: “As the prophecies foretold, the Lord of Darkness has returned to wreak havoc on our helpless country…revenge for the defeat he suffered decades ago. When we defeated him with that thing…you know, that thing that we’ve always kept close by and closely guarded since then, I mean, with the LoD’s return having been foretold and all that…rather than separate it into a dozen pieces and bury them or hand them out to random travelers. Now that would have been stupid.”

Yeah, that just never happens. No, whenever a hero or group of heroes have vanquished some great evil or other, the instrumental instrument in said evil’s defeat will inevitably get seriously mislaid in short order - most commonly, but completely inexplicably, in separate pieces at the bottom of vast, monster-infested underground structures in remote, inaccessible regions. Those parts are that are not disposed of in said manner will just be turned over to the next-best drifter that happens to come along - so they can carry it of towards the unknown before handing it on to somebody else…who will drift across the globe before handing it on to yet another person, and so on…until the item is separated from its last known location by a giant network of random exchanges spanning a whole planet and multiple generations, backtracking which will take any RPGing party long stretches of time drearily spent trading chickens for pots of honey with strange, derelict people standing in dark corners behind random buildings in remote, small villages. ._. And all of this when it was absolutely clear that the instrument in question would someday be desperately needed again…it must be some uncontrollable urge or compulsion. Rational people don’t act like that, and even most of the irrational people know better…

In many decades a group of young heroes will have grand adventures recovering the various parts of Professor Doctor’s punchcard from the most dangerous locations in the world…finally returning to activate the device again, which will at that time, once again, be the only thing standing between humanity and the zombiecalypse. And then they’ll find that the batteries are shot and they’re of a type that they don’t make anymore. ._. Poor humanity.

Strong as that urge seeems to be, however, I have no idea what you could call it. Aside from rank stupidity, that is.

More on Monday.

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