Post by phyphor on Jul 11, 2012 23:49:34 GMT -5
Day 1: Unknown Unknowns
“There are known knowns; there are things we know that we know.
There are known unknowns; that is to say there are things that, we now know we don't know.
But there are also unknown unknowns – there are things we do not know we don't know.”
-Lando Calrissian
The True Scotsman gathered his compatriots together, clad his trademark Connery mask. “Friends,” he said, and objections were shouted from the crowd. “Allies,” he shouted, and accusations of bias were roared back at him. “Fellow arguments!” he yelled, raising his arms to the sky as the assembled beings demanded as one to see his proof, raising their fists in defiance. “The time is almost upon us! Only one thing stands in our way.”
The crowd fell into a dull murmur, leaning forward.... they were surprised. They believed he had called them together to announce the attack, but what was this almost...? The Scotsman’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Fellow arguments, there are... philosophers among us.”
Silence. Arguments looked at each other, and shrugged.
“No, I mean REAL philosophers! Logical thinkers! Servants of Logos. No true attack begins before the ranks are purged, and purge we must! We cannot hope to succeed without the death of those whom we oppose!” A wave of noise washed through the group. Philosophers? Rational thinkers? Possibly even mathematicians?! The noise built, the crowd turning ugly... argument staring at argument, wondering, considering, speculating.
The Scotsman levelled his decisive finger at them. “No true argument would tolerate these interlopers. Now, you can, you must, you will find these imposters and destroy them!!”
The arguments turned to face each other, glowering, and all at once a torrent of accusation poured forth from every voice. Chaos reigned as fingers pointed every which way. Over it all the Scotsman watched, wondering which of them were the betrayers...
It was bedlam in the village square.
Oh no, Bedlam! Someone’s got to save him! thought the Appeal to the Majority. Everyone knows he’ll die this night!
But no attack appeared.
How can people want him dead, just because he went murderously crazy a few days ago? If they only knew the real Bedlam, they’d know he had his reasons! thought the Appeal to Pity.
But still, no attack came. At least, not yet, and not aimed at him.
Accusations flew. Suggestions were quietly whispered in the ears of unsuspecting arguments. Shouting matches broke out. People’s mothers were mentioned far more than anatomically possible, and while no one was looking, a calm, cold hand fell on the shoulder of the Appeal to Pity. Turning, he peered into a set of calm, collected eyes. “You do understand,” the being said, “that someone can be completely earnest, completely forthright, and also completely wrong?”
“I... I... who are you? I was... wait, don’t, please, I was only just getting staaaarted...”
Deductive Reasoning watched dispassionately as Pity faded slowly away. Meeting the eyes of a few others, he disappeared back into the din. They had agreed, he had acted, and while they were working their own careful calculations, he had other business to resolve.
Meanwhile, the crowd was in utter disagreement. In the center of the din, The Strawman towered above them, his itchy arms waving. Finally, he settled on his target. “You!” he rasped, snatching the Appeal to the Majority into the air. “People who know what others think are clearly, clearly too well versed in linear thought. And do you know who else thinks linearly?!?”
The Appeal to the Majority never got a chance to answer... mounds of straw in his mouth, he was battered into oblivion before he could object.
The rest of the arguments looked at each other. Julius had, unfortunately for him, ended up in the center of the circle. “That’s good enough for us”, a few arguments shouted. From the back someone yelled “are we even sure the tally makes sense?” but at this point no one much cared. The arguments fell on Julius in a rage, and above them, the True Scotsman smiled behind his mask.
warban - Appeal to Pity: got no sympathy from the Good Arguments
Cythraul - Appeal to the Majority: beaten by The Strawman
Julius: - argued to death by the vote
Top Five Vote Earners
Julius - 4
Phyphor - 3
Premium - 3
jdarksun - 2
Matev - 2
Mill - 2
Cythraul - 2
Stever777 - 2
warban - 2
TheRoadVirus - 2
First of all: were those guards?
Second: We have a minimum of more 5 days before we can possibly win. Going to be a long game
“There are known knowns; there are things we know that we know.
There are known unknowns; that is to say there are things that, we now know we don't know.
But there are also unknown unknowns – there are things we do not know we don't know.”
-Lando Calrissian
The True Scotsman gathered his compatriots together, clad his trademark Connery mask. “Friends,” he said, and objections were shouted from the crowd. “Allies,” he shouted, and accusations of bias were roared back at him. “Fellow arguments!” he yelled, raising his arms to the sky as the assembled beings demanded as one to see his proof, raising their fists in defiance. “The time is almost upon us! Only one thing stands in our way.”
The crowd fell into a dull murmur, leaning forward.... they were surprised. They believed he had called them together to announce the attack, but what was this almost...? The Scotsman’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Fellow arguments, there are... philosophers among us.”
Silence. Arguments looked at each other, and shrugged.
“No, I mean REAL philosophers! Logical thinkers! Servants of Logos. No true attack begins before the ranks are purged, and purge we must! We cannot hope to succeed without the death of those whom we oppose!” A wave of noise washed through the group. Philosophers? Rational thinkers? Possibly even mathematicians?! The noise built, the crowd turning ugly... argument staring at argument, wondering, considering, speculating.
The Scotsman levelled his decisive finger at them. “No true argument would tolerate these interlopers. Now, you can, you must, you will find these imposters and destroy them!!”
The arguments turned to face each other, glowering, and all at once a torrent of accusation poured forth from every voice. Chaos reigned as fingers pointed every which way. Over it all the Scotsman watched, wondering which of them were the betrayers...
It was bedlam in the village square.
Oh no, Bedlam! Someone’s got to save him! thought the Appeal to the Majority. Everyone knows he’ll die this night!
But no attack appeared.
How can people want him dead, just because he went murderously crazy a few days ago? If they only knew the real Bedlam, they’d know he had his reasons! thought the Appeal to Pity.
But still, no attack came. At least, not yet, and not aimed at him.
Accusations flew. Suggestions were quietly whispered in the ears of unsuspecting arguments. Shouting matches broke out. People’s mothers were mentioned far more than anatomically possible, and while no one was looking, a calm, cold hand fell on the shoulder of the Appeal to Pity. Turning, he peered into a set of calm, collected eyes. “You do understand,” the being said, “that someone can be completely earnest, completely forthright, and also completely wrong?”
“I... I... who are you? I was... wait, don’t, please, I was only just getting staaaarted...”
Deductive Reasoning watched dispassionately as Pity faded slowly away. Meeting the eyes of a few others, he disappeared back into the din. They had agreed, he had acted, and while they were working their own careful calculations, he had other business to resolve.
Meanwhile, the crowd was in utter disagreement. In the center of the din, The Strawman towered above them, his itchy arms waving. Finally, he settled on his target. “You!” he rasped, snatching the Appeal to the Majority into the air. “People who know what others think are clearly, clearly too well versed in linear thought. And do you know who else thinks linearly?!?”
The Appeal to the Majority never got a chance to answer... mounds of straw in his mouth, he was battered into oblivion before he could object.
The rest of the arguments looked at each other. Julius had, unfortunately for him, ended up in the center of the circle. “That’s good enough for us”, a few arguments shouted. From the back someone yelled “are we even sure the tally makes sense?” but at this point no one much cared. The arguments fell on Julius in a rage, and above them, the True Scotsman smiled behind his mask.
warban - Appeal to Pity: got no sympathy from the Good Arguments
Cythraul - Appeal to the Majority: beaten by The Strawman
Julius: - argued to death by the vote
Top Five Vote Earners
Julius - 4
Phyphor - 3
Premium - 3
jdarksun - 2
Matev - 2
Mill - 2
Cythraul - 2
Stever777 - 2
warban - 2
TheRoadVirus - 2
First of all: were those guards?
Second: We have a minimum of more 5 days before we can possibly win. Going to be a long game
