aspect as philosophy

So, what do you actually do as an agnostic secular witch?

(here’s and draft of expert from the zine I’m working on about my personal practice of witchcraft)

I’ve joked that my personal practice of witchcraft looks like a cottage or hearth witch got set loose in a punk house of a Philosophy major drop-out who read too many Discworld books.

However, that statement doesn’t mean much to you if you don’t know what a cottage or hearth witch is, some aspects of Philosophy, or the glory of Terry Pratchett’s Discworld witches’ concept of “headology”.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

what do you do if you know you belong to an aspect axis (time/space, mind/heart for example) but relate equally to both sides? which one should you pick?

Alright, so, before we get into the answer, I’d like to talk a bit about the problems with the usual paradigm of title interpretation. See, most people have cottoned on to the whole relationship between character traits and titles thing, and the idea that a character’s title describes their overarching goals as a person, which appear to be a constant between all iterations of that character. But there is also usually very little attention given to how we’re supposed to be able to tell what those overarching goals are– natural inclinations are often seen as a key culprit, but most characters in Homestuck, being well-written and therefore complex, have different sets of inclinations within their own personalities that work at cross-purposes to each other. The character who is most explicit about this is of course Dirk– he is naturally very protective of his friends, but is also helpless to prevent himself from ruining shit for them. Other good examples, adjusting of course for their own goals and vices, include Vriska (at least before the retcon) and Jake.

Leaving the effect of a title over someone’s life at “natural inclinations” alone also presents another issue– namely, certain aspect axes actually include natural inclinations of varying descriptions as part of the big ideological divide between the aspects that comprise them. Heart and Mind are the prime example here, but I would argue that Time and Space, Light and Void, and Rage and Hope, are also very much about this issue. Many Heroes of the second set of aspects (Mind, Space, Void and Hope) should find triumph in acting against their “natures”, or at least refusing to play by those rules.

The answer that I prefer for these problems also happens to be the answer to your question– if you know what your key focus is (e.g. Change for Time/Space, Identity for Mind/Heart, Meaning for Light/Void and so on), the perspective you ought to adopt on that focus is the one that leads to the “best” outcomes for you. This is kind of a messy judgment* to make in its own right, but usually comes down to user satisfaction (so to speak).

Which mode of thinking leads to actions that ultimately make you, in the long-term, feel fulfilled and accomplished? Take Time and Space– is it careful deliberation or moving swiftly that gets you where you’re needed most consistently? Are you comfortable with disconnecting your actions from your sense of self, or do you work at your best when you treat everything you do intensely personally? Most people are between aspects in at least some respect– finding which side you fall on is usually a matter of finding the side with the most plush puppet rumps to break that fall.

anonymous asked:

do knight of light!

anonymous asked:

Can I request an analysis of the knight of light?

Sure!

Knight of Light

Between their large ego and their small self-esteem, Knights usually come across as trying too hard in their attempts to act tough and appear confident. Their big break happens when they find something legitimately worth fighting for.

All Light players are concerned with providence and importance, whether or not they think in those exact terms about those phenomena. They assume that everything that they have, from material possessions to natural virtues and capabilities, was given to them for a reason, and that the universe acts like a narrative.

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10

In honour of the memory of resistance movements on the African continent and throughout the Black Diaspora, we are hosting @efo_sela’s HUNTER HUNTED exhibition from February 21st to March 21st 2017.


The exhibiton will also feature a conversation with Efo Sela about these new creations exploring historical memory, imagination and the fight/flight to spaces that offer more freedom.


Efo Sela’s art overthrows the convoluted foundations of “white supremacy” itself!


Sela draws boundless inspiration from traditional African symbolism and influential artists (like Bruce Onobrakpeya, El Anatsui, Moyo Okediji, Jean-Michel Basquiat, Ablade Glover etc)


Sela renders his highly cryptic and distorted figures like a “Post-Modernist Zaria Rebel”. His “New Sacred Art” highlights varying degrees of esoteric knowledge, deep aspects of Vodu philosophy, sacred Vodu aesthetics and indigenous religious iconography.

In a series of “chilling” abstract paintings and sculpture works, Sela visually explores the recurring issues that still plague Africans on the continent and in the Diaspora in our current neo-colonial era. Sela renders this profound imagery like a psychologically and emotionally traumatized young child haunted by the nightmarish horrors of constantly seeing the bodies of black men and women littered in the streets through all manner of despicable social injustice.

The Hunter Huntered exhibition shuffles through African history to re-examine and highlight several critical issues as a visual narrative.

Efo Sela is based in Accra with a professional art practice that draws from an amalgam of African symbolism and philosophy. Sela is also a Visual Anthropologist, writer, researcher of African art & Ewe Religion.

Sela’s work is heavily inflenced by Võdũ aesthetics, natural patterns of nature and Uli designs .His works covers broad themes such as class struggle, colonialism, spirituality and religion.


HUNTER HUNTED was curated by


Mantse Aryeequaye

bladekindeyewear via ficklefandoms:

shizukateal said:

How did you realize what your God Tier was?

My supposed title (Seer of Doom)? It’s a long, boring story. A couple title tests, a lot of personality tests, a lot of understanding about classes and aspects, some serious analysis of my personality, my method of approaching problems, my belief system, my fears and motivations, my quirks and habits. But most importantly, the firm confidence that I am not 100% sure of my own hero title, and never will be.

Let me repeat that. I’ve stated my supposed title with relative confidence. I usually do! I’m… I dunno, somewhere between 75% to 90% sure that it’s my title, as opposed to one of the runner-ups like Sylph of Light, or something a little different. But I believe that even if you can feel absolute conviction about other people’s titles, or of those of characters in fiction, you should absolutely never think you know your OWN, PERSONAL title with absolute clarity. Not unless a magic video game gives you the answer.

Thinking you’re 100% sure of your own title is dangerous. It’s a form of willful blindness – arrogance, even! – which, at worst, could negatively impact your life and those you care about. Do you, at your current age and place in life, completely know yourself and all your faults, the true shape of your potential? And even if you do, will you still understand yourself next year, when you’ve gone through so much more? The year after that? A decade from now?

Self-awareness is a constant battle, and one of the most important psychological traits you should hone as a person. (Part of why I think everyone should see a good psychologist every once in a while in their lives, regardless of mental health; they’re great at teaching you this.) Learning about yourself, about who you are, how you operate, what you’re actually doing and why you’re doing what you’re doing, is not something you’re ever going to be “done” doing. There are always things you are doing wrong. There are people – yourself, and people other than yourself – who will be hurt by the things you’re doing wrong. And the ultimate betrayal to them is to fail to examine and reexamine your actions and motivations, to fail to make an effort to recognize what you might be doing wrong and why. You need to be self-aware. You must FIGHT to be self-aware, constantly, against your automatic subconscious. Because if you can’t learn how your behavior is negatively affecting others – if you can’t even SEE how you might be negatively affecting others – you have exactly a zero percent chance of fixing that behavior, or even accepting that it exists.

You’ve met people who critically lack self-awareness, and hurt those around them because of it. People who you can’t imagine anyone putting up with, who you distance yourself from. The instant you stop questioning what you’re doing and why you’re doing it, you’ve switched train-tracks toward becoming that sort of person. People will sever ties with you, and you won’t know why. You won’t even see it happening. At worst, you could become a poisonous cloud, a scalding hot potato that nobody wants to have to deal with. And when you’re finally completely alone, you’ll ask the world why, and be absolutely deaf when it tells you that the answer is “you”.

…well, that’s not completely true. If you’re an optimist, you might believe that someone who reaches that point might finally listen to the answer, realize something’s wrong with their behavior, and work towards becoming a better person. Maybe! If it happens early enough in life. But the more time you spend stewing in a lack of self-awareness, the worse your behavior will hurt others, and the harder it will be to even BEGIN to accept who you are and start to change that, because accepting who you are would mean accepting fault for all the pain you’ve caused others. And if you’ve become a truly caustic person, it’s probably too late for you to bear that kind of realization. So your psyche will ignore it. And you’ll be stuck until you die.

…okay that went to a lot darker a place than I meant it to. (Probably because my dad is in that “stuck” place, and has caused enough oblivious damage that I’ve cut ties with him completely.)

Dark rant aside, the point is, it’s arrogant to declare that you know yourself well enough to know your hero title for absolute certain. You can use a hero title to help with self-discovery, but you shouldn’t believe it to be an unshakable truth. You can’t be sure you know yourself that well. Only God, or the Flying Spaghetti Monster, know you that well.

I think Andrew Hussie understands this at some level. That’s probably why he doesn’t brag about having a certain hero title, or even admit he thinks he knows what his best-fit title would be.

Since ficklefandoms pulled this out of the ask compilation and reblogged it, figured I’d put it up myself like this in case people want to share it separately.

anonymous asked:

Can u do a comparison between light and hope thx

While I was coming up with an aspect for myself (note: aspect-first classpecting only works on yourself, or if you otherwise have access to a large selection of your target’s priorities in life and other endeavours and (somehow) not a large selection of actual things that they have done), I actually did consider Light for a while, specifically as an aspect that is very similar to Hope.

Where do they differ? Hope players are much less demanding of the objective state of affairs– they put less effort towards confirming things that they already think of as “solved mysteries”. The purpose and reason that they do argue in favour of is generally self-generated rather than discovered (the latter being a hella Light perspective). It’s a little like the discussion about whether maths is discovered or invented, except expanded to include a bunch of other things, like beauty and fate. Light players want to be important to the universe; Hope players are content with being important to themselves.

The Deconstructed Reactionary

If one reads Quotations from Mao Tse-Tsung, one realizes that a core aspect of Mao’s philosophy is in open confrontation: both with the enemy, and within oneself (in the individual, particular sense and general sense, I believe that for an analysis of Maoist thought to posit these as part of a singular “one” is useful, as well as for a meaningful discourse on Maoist courses of action) extending to one’s own ranks as well. For Mao, there is the individual, but additionally the individual within the Party, the manner in which there is no Communism without a Communist Party, but additionally no Communist Party without Communism. The tautological structure of this claim is in fact a sort of technique of establishing the relations by which Maoist thought may be reached, how one may in fact begin to encounter others as a revolutionary subject, how one is subjectivized and in turn subjectivizes, and the revolutionary potential of such.

Badiou talks many times about leaflets, posters, acts of writing within a context of Maoism, with splintering and rhizomal groups all claiming some sort of unique insight into Mao’s work that presents them as the true Maoist inheritors, the most meaningful realizers of Mao’s thought. What is made apparent by Badiou’s account is that ironically enough, this very process is contradictory to Maoist thought on the resolution of contradiction, in that facing contradiction must be done in a fashion that involves a meeting within a certain rhizomally-structured party. The hierarchical structuring of the party is maintained in order to prevent the manner in which an apparently representative structure is placed upon the body of the state in order to disguise its despotic head; ironically enough, the hierarchical elements of the Maoist state most indicative of what is known as the “Cult of Personality” in some ways repudiate this despotic structuring. While denying the hierarchical structure of Maoist organization in China is ahistorical at best, to additionally ignore the radical rhizomality of both Maoist ideology and actual development following from it is to ignore the manner in which Maoism’s contingency can inform its adaptability.

Rather than the need for continual investment in the hierarchical body of the state, Mao emphasized a need for a party that could be called fractal, in that each smaller unit of the party was itself a node within a larger rhizomal structure, that the rhizomes of the party were able to resolve contradictions within themselves and moreover to determine the difference between unsalvageable differences with reactionaries and those between the people and potential allies. Mao rejects the process of talking behind the backs of fellow party members, instead positing that difference must be placed in the open, must be critiqued and moreover critiqued openly in order for the party to function. The manner in which this constitutes a potentially deconstructive act is rather clear: while the final conclusion of the resolution of contradiction is itself important in a way different from the processual structure of deconstructive reading, the way in which assemblages of a claim must be articulated and examined together, through a process of examination, of finding departures and contradictions in the text of a claim and drawing them out, allowing those contradictions to show the structure of a claim. 

To elaborate upon this process of contradiction, I wish to refer to Derrida and his writing upon language specifically, and to then return to a more general discussion of deconstructive processes. In Of Grammatology, Spivak’s specific translation of Derrida provides a great deal of questioning of the manner in which language and knowledge interact, in that the question of how language, the act of inscribing (as well as of writing as a specific sort of inscribing), and the relationship between the two may be meaningfully linked to both action and knowledge. Derrida’s refutation of the notion that writing is an inherent mark of sophistication (or that the lack of writing is an indicator of a certain relationship with an unaltered naturality) comes in the form of discussing first encounters with writing, and how the act of communication through writing does not require intelligibility in the inscription itself, but rather that the semiotic gesture of writing communicate be communicative. That the writing may communicate an unknowable knowledge, a knowledge precluded from that which writing is most associated with, is important to Derrida’s claims here. The significatory act in question is beyond that of that which is taken as writing in itself, but cannot be separated from it. The process of structuring the Party’s goals, in this way, is similar in that it goes beyond the mere choosing of this or that course of action, it must be understood contingent upon the way that the party allows for structuring of choice.

When a student group, or a certain party, or any individual, writes certain claims about another member of the party, they are in a certain sense requiring an encounter with both the claim and the material implications thereof: they are at the very least opening up a line of critique, are claiming a reactionary structure to the actions of the person in question. Reactionary thought is not unusual: rather, it is in fact the largest structuring antithetical within Mao’s thought. The great amount of time Mao spends separating the “people” and friendly elements within the bourgeoisie from the bourgeoisie themselves, and in emphasizing that reactionary ideology can be contained regardless of class standing, is important specifically because it is part of the triangulation of reactionary ideology and the restructuring of reactionary flows between oneself and others. 

The process of self-criticism is not akin to what Mao, Badiou, Deleuze, and others would call the Stalinist process of the purge; rather, it involves a specific process through which reactionary ideology is critiqued, is triangulated in order to deconstruct it. Deleuze and Guattari deal greatly with Oedipal processes, Oedipal conceptualizations of the individual, but it is in order to critique and provide an alternative manner of approaching these processes that they do such. Mao’s concept of the reactionary is part of a larger concept regarding the People and the People’s War: conflict is welcome so long as that conflict results in the defeat of the enemy. Unnecessary conflict, conflict with no resolution and no gain, is to be avoided. Contradiction is contrasted with conflict in that rather than opposition that characterizes the relationship one has with reactionary elements, contradiction is between like minds, is toward similar goals and requires similar precepts. It is not any singular status that makes one a reactionary, it is rather a specific recourse to the Oedipal structure of the state, one shared by the bourgeoisie (inside and outside the party) as well as the landlord classes, the “well-to-do peasants” and the peasantry at large. The manner in which Maoism deals with this is important specifically because it acknowledges that the proletariat is not simply an a priori and eternal group: it requires a revolutionary raising of consciousness, and a continual process of fighting reactionary ideology. 

Losing your religion

I just added the following to my Space and Time post, near the end:

In other words, your aspect is the way you ascribe meaning to the world, and your class is how you express your relationship to it with your actions. Your title as a whole paints a far more complete picture of your personality than just one or the other; it’s more than the sum of its parts.

We can break this down into logical steps and phrase them as rhetorical questions for Sburb players to ask themselves. For them, the answers are vague thoughts and decisive actions; putting them into words is our job.

  1. What is my basic concern about existence?
  2. What beliefs do I hold about it that make sense to me personally?
  3. What is my relationship to that which I find meaningful?
  4. What should I do about this relationship?

Each question has major implications for the next, and for a character with a well-defined personality the answers should fall into place naturally once they understand enough about themselves. The game answers them for you in advance in its typical cagey fashion, giving you a title instead of telling you outright how you’d answer the questions. Also, as we’ve seen with The Choice, Skaia is kind of a hardass about fencesitters, so compromising on your beliefs isn’t really an option if you expect to survive. You’ll get situations where you have to pick one extreme or the other and you can’t just say “maybe.” Thus, aspects show up in pairs (not triplets) based on questions 1 and 2.

For argument’s sake, let’s assume you can never change your mind about question 1. In fact, let’s say it’s genetic, so an exact clone of you will always answer question 1 in the same way. That limits the ways you can think about question 2, but it has no bearing on your actual answer, so if you and your clone are raised in totally different environments, you’ll give different answers.

Now let’s say you find out that your clone is way more successful in life – and considerably happier – with an answer to question 2 that contradicts your own. Doubt creeps in. You question your own identity and values, and think that maybe you totally misunderstood yourself (and the world) all along. In short, you are grappling with your own beliefs. It’s possible (though by no means certain) that you’ll change your mind about that critical second question.

I call it “critical” because it implies a lot about what your behavior means to you. The questions are in that order for a reason. If I could prove that the world is just a video game, it would no longer make sense for you to think or act in ways that assume it’s real life. If you question your beliefs, you also question the behavior you’ve built on those beliefs.

In other words, if you turn your back on your aspect (answers 1 and 2) you also turn your back on your class.

This is the phenomenon that BlastYoBoots calls inversion, though he hasn’t explained it like this before because he doesn’t look at aspects this way. People argue about his inversion theory all the time because a lot of people find its predictions far-fetched. On a few occasions I’ve tried to disprove them myself, only to arrive at similar answers and find better evidence for some of the same claims. So despite the shaky details, I’m convinced the idea has enormous merit, especially since it can be demonstrated using different lines of reasoning.

There are caveats to my explanation, of course. I made an assumption about question 1 which might turn out to be false, and I’ve made no mention of how exactly an inverted aspect would lead to a particular class. Furthermore, if this definition of “aspect” is totally wrong, my whole argument breaks down. These are issues I can’t think of a way to address right now, except to say Hussie’s rules for the canon characters might be somewhat arbitrary. Other explanations would have very different implications. I hope I can discuss the possibilities with everyone, but in the meantime I’ll just worry about the aspects themselves.

I’ll post about Light and Void next, along with specific examples supporting my definition of inversion.

possiblypossessed-deactivated20  asked:

You said that each aspect lines up with a philosophy or area of philosophy. What would each aspect's corresponding philosophy be?

Well, keep in mind that I’m not an authority by any means; I’d have to spend maybe ten more years doing enough reading to be seriously confident about what I think I see. That said, here’s a quick summary of my notes, listing overall movements first, followed by individual thinkers whose writings seem especially mature (or at least, self-consistent):

  • Time: Stoicism / ???
  • Space: ??? / Aristotle
  • Heart: ??? / Plato
  • Mind: Empiricism / Immanuel Kant
  • Light: Late medieval Christianity / Thomas Aquinas
  • Void: Absurdist existentialism / Jean-Paul Sartre
  • Doom: Christian existentialism / Søren Kierkegaard
  • Life: Hedonism / Epicurus
  • Hope: Rationalism / Renée Descartes
  • Rage: ??? / Schopenhauer
  • Breath: Early Eastern (incl. Gnostic) asceticism / Gautama Buddha
  • Blood: ??? / Friedrich Nietzsche

I’ve bolded some names where I think there’s a particularly strong case to be made, and left some question marks where I can’t point to any names in particular. Most of these are examples of writers who made early and drastic departures from what those around them were saying, but these gaps could probably still be filled in (and my mistakes corrected) by turbosmart parkour master chefs who know way more than me and have actual insight about this.

The overall pattern I’ve noticed is that there are schools of thought whose understandings of metaphysics are in total opposition, and whose ethical systems are founded on accordingly irreconcilable terminal values. But later on, they sort of move towards each other, and often arrive at the same conclusions from opposite directions. I’m convinced that this is a sign of something incredibly clever and interesting, but trying to actually pin down what that might be is an exercise in frustration. I’ll either figure it out just in time to have it confirmed an hour later in an update, or go mad and start filling up my blog with woodcuts of Mustafa Kemal Atatürk freeclimbing a space elevator.

Anyway, there are already a couple messages in my inbox with more questions and suggestions, but beyond what I’ve said here (and a few more details I’ll post later when I figure out how the heck to explain that stuff) I don’t know that I’m the best person to discuss this with.

EDIT: Wait, there’s one thing I forgot to point out. Sometimes, people talk about philosophers as if they represent perfect, finished ideals that you can distill down to a few sentences and never have to think about again. That’s rarely the case, even with smartasses like Epicurus. A philosopher’s writings are always a work in progress, and life is never simple enough to be solved by dogmatism. There is always more to learn about yourself, the world, and (in this context) your aspect. I’ve noticed that some of the conversations from the comic even seem to reenact certain dialogues between schools of philosophy that played out over centuries, except here it’s rephrased in the vocabulary of teens being dicks to each other on the internet. It’s especially obnoxious in Act 6, since the pace is more rushed and the characters just blurt out all these epiphanies about what they’ve been doing wrong.

anonymous asked:

How about Breath versus Light?

These philosophies tend to have a similar basic theme– you can’t control every little thing in life, and sometimes it’s better to let go– but they approach this in very different ways.

Light players care very much about the things that enter their purview, and they are deeply conscious of the care that they have. Objects and events and people all have their raison d’etre; their reason to exist. That something could exist without some kind of reason behind it is worse than unthinkable to a Light player– it’s downright unconscionable. To them, life itself would suck if there weren’t some higher purpose for everything, even if you have to accomplish that higher purpose on the strength of your own good conduct and ingenuity rather than having a good life delivered ass backwards into your hands.

On the other hand, Breath’s ideas of purpose are a lot less… definite than Light’s. Although they, too, trust that the things that happen to them have very good reasons behind them, they’re not particularly driven to find out what. In fact, they don’t particularly expect to be able to understand what the gods are thinking, let alone work it out somehow. Breath players are totally content to act as mere observers relative to the invisible movers and shakers that influence dumb luck, and reap the rewards accordingly– with no idea why whatever arbitrary thing that they did created the effect that it did, and no strong feelings about it either.

anonymous asked:

Hey there, I've been trying to decide if I'm a Heart or Mind player, do you think you could compare the two, specifically, how they see identity, and how they form their own identities? Thanks!

The big issue with deciding whether or not an individual is, for example, a Heart or a Mind player is that these labels fundamentally refer to patterns of progression rather than patterns of being. They’re more like a map from A to B than a picture of A or B, where A and B are things like “how you see identity”. I kind of fuck this up sometimes when I say “the Mind aspect says X”, because what I should be saying at those points is that X is where Mind players ought to end up.

Anyway, for the purposes of deciding on titles for characters (such as yourself), what this often means is that the question “is [a character]’s aspect Heart or Mind?” really translates to “what works for this character?” The base journey of any X of Y is about a positive transition, from which “inversions” and other failures of character are aberrations and problematic besides. So, for example, an Heir is the kind of character for which inspiring others to make sacrifices is something that completes them, somehow expressing the resolution of their internal struggle, and the struggle in question is all about how they don’t want to inspire sacrifice or profit off the heroism of others. Deciding on a title for yourself is as much about trying to figure out the parts of yourself that you think you ought to improve as it is who you are now.

Anyway, here’s some ideas about the two shifts– Heart to Mind and Mind to Heart– in terms of identity.

Keep reading

tordirycgoyust  asked:

Could I please get a comparison between Space and Void? I sense interesting things in that direction.

Alrighty!

Space and Void are both very preoccupied with free will and agency and potential and transformation of the self– they both have a very Mind-side take on the question of identity, if you will. Their big difference, I think, is in how they approach freedom. (Which, for the record, they define very similarly, at least compared to Breath.)

Space is decidedly in favour of transformation and growth. Shedding the weaknesses of the past is practically their favourite pastime, and any beliefs that a Space player might have to the contrary are more about whether or not such a transformation is possible than whether it is desirable. Void players, on the other hand, generally do struggle with the idea that they can take any action at all, because they’re more directly concerned with what it means to make a decision and whether or not they even exist as a person. 

Because of this, Void players are more susceptible to societal pressures and external codes of conduct, which a) forestall their dilemmas of choice by letting them outsource their thinking, and b) provide the illusion of a concrete self (that persists across all situations) by enforcing consistency across all their actions.

conceptualarchitect  asked:

This has boggled my mind for some time, but. What's the difference betwen Void, Rage and Mind when it comes to the sort of 'treachery of images'? Like, that things aren't as you think they are, or as it seems; it's hidden, disguised or otherwise dismissed behind a false pretense. That sort of thing.

Good question!

First of all, let’s talk a little about this idea of “treachery of images”. The basic claim made by several aspects is that our senses are not entirely reliable ways of discerning facts about the universe. This is evident in stuff like optical illusions and dreams, which often appear indistinguishable from reality until you actually think about how impossible they are.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

could you please describe what a rogue of time would look like inverted to a mage of space?

Alright!

Rogue of Time (and how it can all go wrong)

Rogues are charming characters who enjoy helping others, frequently to the point of their own detriment. This is sometimes exploited by unscrupulous jerks looking to make a quick buck, but fortunately Rogues are also armed with an arsenal of latent greedy impulses and a somehow endearing disdain for playing by the rules.

Time players deal with deterministic takes on causality. They’re concerned with the inevitable, and that one saying– “Your days are numbered.” As far as they’re concerned, we’re all living on borrowed time, but that just means that they have to make the most out of every minute; if you’re gonna do it, it needs to be right the first time. To this end, their favourite tools are devices that give them multiple shots at getting things right the first time– time machines!

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