The Bereaved: Session 2

Mokola woke up, face down, in the snow. He could barely feel his fingers and toes and there was frozen blood on the back of his head. Four of the five orcs were dead, with wounds that matched weapons that were delivered by Midnight Guild members. with no sign of Karl. Mokola checked his pack; in the scuffle that had killed the other orcs his pack had been smashed; he had one day of rations left, from his original 11. Mokola examined his torches and was pleased to find that they were not damaged. He found a hollow tree and lit a fire, but managed to cut himself because of how cold he was.

After successfully applying a bandage Kenin the Ghost showed up. She revealed that it was indeed Midnight Guild members, six or seven of them, led by Yron (the Midnight Guild member who had been encountered earlier) who had killed the orcs, with the other one fleeing. Only two or three had been sent by the Headmaster to look for the missing soldiers, however. They also left Mokola behind, something that the (more-or-less) honorable Guild of Midnight Stalkers would never do. Kenin followed them, trying to see where they went. Turns out that it's only a few hour's walk to Dragonskull Fort. So, after warming up, Mokola set out for Dragonskull, following Kenin. Mokola has a Cloak of Shadows, a gift from a friend that, when properly attuned, helps to make a character practically invisible, but it takes a day to attune. Mokola begins to attune to the Cloak as he travels and finally finds Dragonskull Fort.

Dragonskull Fort was set in the side of a mountain, inside of a massive dragon's skull. The area in front of Dragonskull was hollowed out natural spring, with more water added in from a redirected nearby river. The artificial lake itself is filled with spikes, cemented into the lakebed, and every foul substance you can imagine; rumor has it that if the whole lake will catch fire if a match is lit nearby. Even now, in the middle of the dead winter, one can smell the lake from way up on a nearby mountaintop.  In the area above Dragonskull Fort loose and sharp rocks have been layered, making assault by a large force upon the top of Dragonskull impossible.

Mokola, looking down upon the fort and holding his nose, started to look for a way down the sharp rocks above Dragonskull Fort. Not only did he find a way down, but he also found an enclosed area nearby, which let him sleep unmolested for the night, even in the cold with a fire. He also found a weaker area in the rock formation which, if a rock was thrown at it, would create a rockslide. The next evening Mokola made his move. He gets down the hill because of the Cloak, but he trips and sends a number of rocks down, onto the Dragonskull Fort below, cutting himself.

A group of trained assassins are not going to miss that. About a half dozen or so of them come out and see Mokola with no difficulty. Mokola lit a torch and threw it onto the lake and it lights up, startling everyone. Mokola tried to use the distraction to hide, but couldn't; his compatriots saw right through the ruse, and began to shoot at him with bows as other assassins started going up the hill, after Mokola. An arrow hit Mokola and he fell to the ground, unconscious.

Mokola woke up, chained and in a prison cell, face to face with Yron. They verbally spar, with Mokola trying to appeal to Yron's honor as a member of the Midnight Guild as well as the pragmatic question "What happens when the humans are wiped out?". Yron shuts down these avenues, however, stating that he's with the winner, who is going to be Lord Kuntal, the leader of the orc horde. The orc with a cleaved face from last session is brought in, as a traitor. As it turns out this orc had decided to betray Lord Kuntal, and so therefore he was marked for being the Orc Queen's sacrifice as well.

After a few hours of being alone with the unbound orc Mokola was finally able to get a response out of the orc, who is fiercely loyal to Lord Kuntal and agrees with the punishment that he is given. Mokola tries to figure the orc out, but the Orc Queen comes in... who is a bombshell raven haired human woman. She takes the orc and Mokola out, paints them in feces, and kisses them both, planting spiders in their mouths. The spiders, when spat out, turn into flame. Chanting in a tongue that was unlike any tongue known to men, the orcs cursed Mokola and his orc companion.

They are then set on fire.

The Bereaved: Sessions 0 and 1

"Angry Orc" by tomcii

This all started because of an apology. I'm running two solo Burning Wheel games (of which posts shall be made as well) and was talking to my buddy Andy about this, and just suddenly felt incredibly guilty. I was the GM who first introduced Andy to RPGs, only to find that I had an unintentionally created a monster. Andy is not kind of a good GM and definitely not kind of a good player: he's one of the best in both categories that I've encountered. But for the last ten years Andy has GMed for me, not the other way around. I generally go to him when I'm tired of GMing and he very nicely lets me play a game.

So, as I was talking to him, I realized I could do a game for him. And then I wanted to do a game with him. And then I was talking about it and realizing that two Burning Wheel games is going to be a lot of work, so adding a third was probably not a good idea. Andy and I are both gaming snobs. We also like exploring new games and enjoying mechanics that no one else has thought about before. I'd been wanting to try Whitehack for almost a year, having bought the game and gotten a Notebook copy of it for Christmas, one year ago. So I suggested it, and somehow Andy decided this was a good idea.

And then I couldn't think of a campaign idea. Nothing.

So I just had Andy start making a character. Because sometimes whole campaign ideas can spawn off of just one random fact about a character. So Andy sat down and began to make a character. He picked his class first. Now, in Whitehack there are three base classes: the Deft (specialists in a field), the Strong (the combat monster and able to harvest special abilities from dead critters), and the Wise (Miracle workers who pay for their spells with HP).


Andy went for the Deft. Deft characters' Groups are not tied to stats, and they also have access to special tricks/mentors/items that no one else does, one active and one inactive (switching between them takes a day). Andy decided his active Mentor would be a ghost by the name of Kenin, who was a rival of his, back to haunt him. His inactive benefit is a cloak that can hide with anything. It's not magical, it just... blends...

Kenin sparked off an idea for a campaign, and I had something to pitch. Kenin had died in a failed assassination attempt of the orc lord Kuntal, who had overwhelmed the country of Crondas and was at the capital city, Terl's, gates. Kenin would not talk about why she failed, but she came back and asked Mokola (Andy's assassin), her rival, to finish the job for her. But in the interval Kuntal had destroyed Terl, destroying it. The royal family had managed to escape, but it's the dead of winter and nobody can last that long.

So the campaign begins with Mokola's talk with the leader of his assassination guild, the Guild of Midnight Prowlers. In the wake of the wholescale slaughter of the Kingdom of Crondas the Guild has allied itself with the crown. A few days ago some scouts of the crown had been sent out to examine Fort Dragonskull, which was neslted a few days away to the east in the Dragonbone Mountains.These scouts have not returned and so the headmaster is sending Mokola out to figure out what's going on. The headmaster has already sent a number of his agents out, but he's worried about their loyalty, and is sending Mokola as a back up to the back up.

After gathering some supplies Mokola set out. After being taunted about how much he sucks and really has no drive by Kenin, Mokola sent her out to check out a nearby campfire.Kenin came back, laughing, and told Mokola they were no threat even to someone like him. Mokola approached the campfire and found five individuals around it who were heartily sick of each other. One of these survivors, Karl, asked to come with Mokola. Karl was a bit grouchy, but he tried to keep up with Mokola the best he could, asking whatever questions he thought Mokola would answer. Mokola kept Karl safe from gigantic eagles and helped him outrun a group of orcs, even burying one of the orc's blades in his face.

They also ran into one of the survivors of the Guild's party: Yron, who clearly was not happy with the headmaster's idea to make them friends of the crown. As they staged a perfectly normal conversation Yron motioned for Mokola to kill Karl, since he was nothing more than a rube civilian. But Mokola refused, and instead asked Yron what had happened to the others. Yron told them that his other compatriots were dead, slain by orcs, as were most likely the king's men. Yron did not offer to journey with them, instead turning back for home camp, telling the pair to watch out, or else they would wind up dead.

Karl finally had to rest, after going all night without rest because of the relatively clear weather. Mokola, who needed to scout, warned Karl not to rest unless he thought he could do it safely, and stepped out to re-orient himself. But the temperature dropped significantly and the winds howled, driving Mokola to reconsider his course of action.

Which is when Mokola found himself surrounded by orcs, including an orc with a deep impression of a blade in his face. Mokola could hear a captured Karl behind him, begging him to run, that the orcs were trying to cut off his escape routes.

Mokola fled. Karl's shouting stopped abruptly. Mokola realized that he was almost completely cut off, so he tried running right at one of the orcs, elbowing him in the face as he went by.

But the orc grabbed Mokola by his head and slammed his head into a tree.

The Whitehack: Read-Thru Review

I've always had a bit of a fascination for the Old School Renaissance. There's something about the uncompromising, focused play that I find alluring. While I generally disagree with the level of nostalgia and dogmatism that the movement gravitates towards I've always wanted to try one of the movement's games. And, after paying attention to the movement for years, I've decided to try out Whitehack first. The things that have drawn me to the game are its simple, flavorful, and emergent gameplay.

Whitehack's gameplay is simple. This is generally the opposite of what I go for in games, mostly because complexity can lead to a greater amount of richness in the narrative of a game. Rule-lite generally strips things down too far and forgets that, first and foremost, RPGs are games that make stories, not make sessions of shared make-believe. There needs to be systems that can trip up the players and that can complicate the narrative in ways the players do not expect. Whitehack solves this problem by making sure what systems do exist generate complications. Players are defined by Groups, which can be either races, affiliations, or vocations, not your Class, which is merely how you accomplish your goals, not what you are. These things are determined by group decision. You merely say that you are an elf knight and you get a greater chance at succeeding when doing things that pertain to those aspects. You simply say what you do and the rules give a framework to challenge you in the way that you defined.

Whitehack's simplicity lends itself to flavor. When Andy and I sat down to come up with a campaign concept I couldn't think of anything for a campaign. So Andy looked through the classes and decided he wanted to play a Deft character, someone who is a specialist in his chosen field. By the time he was done making up stuff I had a campaign idea, as he had come up with a ghost who helped him in tight spots and had a cloak he could do fun tricks with. I started asking questions about the ghost and the assassin's guild that Andy was a part of... and we just took off. None of these elements design have a whole lot of mechanical weight, yet. Whitehack runs off of group fiat, and what the group says is permanent. This means that, as time goes on, the mechanics are reinforced differently as one's understanding of the world evolves.This in turn creates more flavor that you have to circumnavigate.

All of this adds up to what Whitehack promises: emergent gameplay. The ruleset is intentionally sparse; most of the game rules can be summed up within 20 pages. You wouldn't know that the game has this element from its spartan ruleset, but this is where Groups come in. Groups are sources of your characters' expertise: affiliations ("groups" you belong to), races (I hope I don't have to explain), and vocations (which are things like woodcutter, knight, assassin, etc.). Every time you are faced with a task that you think a Group applies to you must state how it applies and then roll 2d20, taking the better of the two (the game calls his a double positive roll). You get two of these groups to assign to your stats (one Group per stat!) with and, as the game progresses, you get more. And that's the thing: you get more. As the game progresses you get more flavor and mechanical weight, which means that the game fundamentally changes with the addition of each Group. Each of these Groups fundamentally alters the setting, which alters the story, which alters your player. Most of the classes end with 5 Groups. That's 3 seismic shifts per character (except the Deft, they get 6! And their Groups aren't tied to Stats! So powerful!) It doesn't look like much, and that's the trick.

I'll be posting more as I play, but these are my initial impressions. Can't wait to write more!

A Theoretical Manifesto

It's been a really long time since I've written on GMing. Part of that has to do with having a kid, leaving the Army, moving, and changing jobs; it's hard to GM when you've got so much going on. But, thanks to the wonders of The Burning Wheel and The Whitehack and solo campaigns, I'll be starting not two campaigns soon, but three. I've had some time to think about my methods and madnesses, and this is my manifesto: people need structure, ring plots are awesome, re-incorporate often!

People need structure. I don't mean structure as in "this is what the players are going to be doing today". That's called rail-roading. What I mean is that people, narratively, flourish with a structure that the GM follows. Now I'm assuming a Burning Wheel-esque structure: character sets Beliefs and Instincts and the GM challenges them, as opposed to the GM coming up with a plot to walk the players through. This means deciding, ahead of time, how you, the GM, are going to challenge the character(s) in a general fashion. And when I say general I think I should say "vague". The way I like to conceptualize what I'm talking about is to use Story World cards. The image draws up associations, which can be used to throw at the players' BITs.

If someone was to have a  Belief I must stop my brother the Duke, no matter the cost and I had that card to challenge the player with, I'd try and show just how similar the two brothers really are. I'd take the other two Beliefs the character had and copy them exactly. If one of the Duke's minions is an evil douche have the Duke punish the guy, publicly, in a manner the player agrees with. Have the Duke be horrified by any bad outcomes from his actions, whatever they may be, and swear to fix them. And do this for all of the Beliefs for everyone in the game. The thing is that this card can create completely different outcomes.

Ring plots are awesome. So the cards alone aren't going to be enough, because how do you balance all of this out? The point of a structure is to provide something that doesn't move so players can feel free to riff off of it. But some variance is needed; you can't just go and do the one card, over and over again. There needs to be a structure to the images, a series to run the campaign on. You can pick any structure you like, I suppose- 4 act, 3 act, matters little- but I like the ring cycle, as popularized by Star Wars. It can be summed up as Introduce, Subvert, and Re-Introduce, summed up as two cards. Determine how many sessions you're going to play each card. For a Burning Wheel game I suggest 4 sessions a card.

1. Introduce-  Using a card, lay out a new situation for the player. Use the card and the Beliefs at the table to craft this scenario. There is much less science to this than art, feeling out what about the Beliefs and the card evoke from you. Each session advance the plot using the imagery on the card. Again, play it loosey-goosey with how you challenge. If you think a dog in an image should be used for loyalty in one session and cowardliness in the next, then who cares? Do it. You've got several sessions to play around with the image. Regardless of how you play around with it, this card is used to mollify the players. Whatever their Beliefs are, treat them as if they are utterly true! Let the players cement themselves into their convictions, playing with them very little. Let them feel secure for awhile.
2. Subvert- This the card that knocks your players over. Destroy them with everything you have. Take these sessions to utterly contradict everything the players throw at you. You've spent several sessions allowing the players to build their stuff and to trust that their points of view are correct. Destroy their confidence.
3. Re-Introduce- Now take your first card and introduce the same kind of stuff you did before, but flipped with the subversion in mind. Combine the two cards, with the first card being taking precedence. Go for tying up loose ends. You've laid down the groundwork and then destroyed it, now use all the pieces and bring it to a conclusion.

Re-incorporate often! Once you've laid down the Introduction step revisit those things. When in doubt, use a previously existing element in a new way, as opposed to introducing completely new things, whole cloth. It's always a good idea to take an old toy and break it and bash it up or build it up. This creates a sense of continuity and helps the players feel like they're in a world. And it will make them confident in doing whatever it is they like, knowing that you will honor their contributions before adding any of your own.

This will, in theory, create a good 12 session arc for Burning Wheel, or any other game. You can create a second arc by swapping the order of the two cards and running the players through the steps discussed above. Want another arc? Reverse the cards again.  You can do this as many times as you wish, until the campaign naturally comes to a conclusion, although I suspect 

Now there will be a few  objections to this method: it limits the GM's creativity, it's not organic, and it will tire over time.

To the first: limits to creativity can be a good thing, as can structure and order. In fact, limits on the human mind makes it sharper, not duller, so long as the limits are not meant to destroy the ability to work. This method is meant as a spring board, not a prison.The cards and the structure are meant to evoke comparisons and give you a place to return to when in doubt. If you're using the structure as a prison that is not the intent. 

To the second: vegetables and what's "natural" grow best with order to hold them up. Ivy and vines grow best with scaffolding to hold them up, it's why they attach to buildings and trees and anything. I don't know about anyone else with creative urges, but I find them to be wild and random, striking when I least expect it and doing whatever they like. If you give this seeming chaos structure and a place to fill up it will do it, organically. 

To the third: of course it will tire over time. Stories conclude. There's a reason why most American sitcoms are garbage: they just retread the same crap, with no actual ending to them. The problem is that most GMs don't know when their stories naturally conclude and want to keep them going as long as they can. Making a story structure can allow you to accept that you need to do so that your players can have the closure they deserve. Planning for closure means your players will get it, somehow. And there is nothing worse than a game that doesn't have even a half-fitting conclusion. Plan for it and accept it and your players will have a bittersweet time, not just a bitter one. 

Like I've said in the title, this is all theoretical. I've been sitting on these thoughts for a little while and am planning to try them out. Hopefully my players won't mind my experiments. And hopefully y'all won't mind following me as I post about the results of them. Onward!

For Parents/Spouses Only

I write this post with the knowledge that some will think I've over-anthropomorphized God. This is not inaccurate, I suppose, but I do have one preemptive point in my defense: truth is not one statement, but a paradox: two equally intense and equally opposing viewpoints. The truth of God's impassibility is not lost on me, especially as an Eastern Christian. But, without posts like this, the truth is incomplete. I present this as the other half of the truth.

This is a stand-in for your baby.

God sees you the way you see these people. Except a heck of a lot more.

That means that every time your poor little kid falls over and you flinch, but find it cute because it's really not the end of the world, God does that too. Every time your child screams about not being given a cookie and you wish you could give it to them but frankly the cookie's bad for them and so you have to say no but it's not the end of the world . The baby may think so, but you know better. You have perspective. So it is with suffering.

Wait, you thought any number of horrors you experienced were different than a child falling over and hitting their head?

The only difference between the cookie and your trauma is the amount of time it takes to recover from it, because you, the adult have actualized more of your potential and therefore there's more to damage. That is, in fact, the only difference. The principle is the same, especially when it comes to God's view of us.

Stand-in for your spouse

God knows you far, far more deeply than your spouse ever will. Each and every little tick of your face and body is loved. Your entirety is known, seen, acknowledged, thought about, and loved. That desire you feel for your spouse? The emptiness that yearns for the light inside of your spouse? Yeah, that isn't there. There is no need, just appreciation, pure and simple. It's not filled with the physical urges that, if not fulfilled, sour and must be wrestled with. There is no moment where that sourness turns to just plain old lust, because there is no need. The realization that you made at some point where it doesn't matter if your spouse is wearing clothes or not, their body was never the point? That was never a realization. All that has always been there, and for more than you could ever imagine.

All those times where your spouse has done something dumb and you found yourself angry at them, because you love them and how dare they squander that love so easily over something so trite? I have unfortunate news for you: your love isn't very great. Without God's love your love is nothing and so is theirs. God's love does not break down. The frustration we feel with our spouses is natural, God feels it too, far more often than you do. Why? We can't see into our spouse's minds, and thank God! We're incapable of going that far.

But God's able to go where you can't. Yet.

Oh yes, marriage is eternal. You are with that person, in all eternity. Come the Judgment you will be able to finally love that person as God intended you to. This is all a warm-up. All of this life is. The new Heavens and Earth is a resurrected one. Nothing goes anywhere. So marriage sure doesn't either. But we're just getting warmed up here.

All of this is practice. And family helps us understand what it is that God wants, when we do the real thing.

One Saturday Morning

The previous night I'd had a really awful PTSD attack. Wave after wave of horrific anguish washed over me, and would have completely overwhelmed me if not for reaching out to God with the Jesus Prayer. You can claim to have faith all day, but when the night comes and the darkness comes in what do you do? Anyway, the next morning rolled around and I felt pretty awful. I was having trouble with the trigger, which was still riding it out in my body. I didn't know how long it was going to last, and frankly I didn't know if I could deal with the truth anyway. So my family and I went for a stroll.

It was still a bit cool; the sun hadn't reached its typical Oklahoma awfulness.  On this day you'd almost believe it was a normal August day anywhere north of the Mason-Dixon. My 3 year old was skipping along, and the wind was just the tiniest bit crisp. That's about as close to Fall as we'll probably get for a few more months yet.

I was enjoying the weather, despite myself. After all, it's not too often where you get a break before November in this wretched state and even I could tell it was a good morning, even if I couldn't appreciate it. The mind of someone deep in a trigger is of bolted down boards on roiling chaos. It's hard to adequately express it, only that at some point the body wears out of being in so much supposed danger all the time and you begin to feel depressed, since there's really not a whole lot more to do at that point.

And then we happened upon the graveyard.

Now, this graveyard was not a surprise; we live right across the street from it, after all. We'd known about it for a few weeks. But we'd never gotten to visit it. Well, today was the day. And I was welcomed with the greatest gift a troubled man can receive: silence.

No, I didn't say quiet. The graveyard was far from quiet. There were people doing maintenance and there was a woman walking, talking on her cell phone. But something hung here, in the air, serene, passive, and patient. The instant I stepped foot on this ground I could feel my body change. Gone were the aches and pains. In its place was the realization that what I was feeling would pass. These people lay here, awaiting the day they would come back. I was awash in something that is very rarely felt: peace. I found myself laughing as we walked between the gravestones, heady with the borrowed freedom of the dead, the knowledge that this too would pass. Oh, it was not not my freedom, and I knew it. I knew that, once I walked away, the battle would begin again. The memories would begin to fight to come back, and I would be faced with something new and horrific to suffer through, all over again. But, for that moment, staring at the dead's tombstones and realizing how little time I actually had, I was free. The Gift of Illuvatar was, indeed, just that: a gift! And  while that gift would be mine someday, it was not yet. And so I enjoyed my troublesome and stubborn flesh as we walked. These people were waiting. They were at peace. And one day I would join them, when it was time. Fortunately I do not dictate that time.

I stopped, took a deep breath, and walked into the area. There were single days on these gravestones, with toys (illegally) stacked atop them. The air itself changed; anguish overlaid itself on the peace of the rest of the yard. My wife and I stood, staring at the gravestones, and cried as we looked at our little ones, one strapped in a carrier to my wife and our three year old running around, oblivious as to where we were. Death may be a gift of release from this cruel world but that doesn't mean it's any less painful for those left behind. These little ones had such a small amount of time, months at the very longest. Looking at our little ones my wife and I were overwhelmed by it all.

Drying our eyes the best we could we left the silently grieving area and started trying to corral our three year old back to our house for food. It was almost noon, no one had showered, and we'd barely eaten anything. But, of course, a three year old in an open space is going to run like the dickens, and he had to be caught. Across the road, closer to our house, is a pair of fountains. We offered to stop there. Our son found this acceptable and, crossing the usually-busy road, we made our way to the fountains.

As you can see, there are multiple levels down to the water; we never let our children down to the last one, because it's so easy to fall in and with the reeds, we might never even notice what had happened. Fortunately our eldest son was in a good mood about that restriction today. Instead, he walked up to me, held out his hand, and shouted "JUMP DADDY!" I looked down at my little angel, one who at so many points infuriates the holy hell out of me, but then inspires with pure goodness a moment later. I looked down at the half of a six foot drop to the next level. He probably didn't need me to do it, but that was besides the point, wasn't it? I grabbed his small, delicate hand and, yelling at the top of our lungs, we jumped the half-six feet , to the next row below.

And we did it over, and over, and over again. Each time we laughed and, for the briefest second, there was something far better than peace. I only wish I knew how to describe it to you.

Lunch was delicious, by the way.

Catholics, Orthodox, and Tolkien, Chesterton, and Lewis

I'm absolutely appalled by most of my Orthodox brethren's treatment of Catholicism. Modern Orthodoxy's selective sense history (not to mention the ignoring of their own canons and anathemas) is frustrating. Don't get me wrong, there's problems with Catholicism, and they're all tied in with the Pope and Rome and the centralization of their ecclesiastical power. But there's still some hope for unity, and I think that's thanks to J.R.R. Tolkien, Chesterton, and Lewis

I mean, sure, who doesn't love LOTR? Well, quite a few. But there are a number of Orthodox who love Tolkien, who attribute their Orthodoxy, in part, to Tolkien. Even the most die-hard ROCOR I've met has sang Tolkien's praises. And it's not hard to see why. Tolkien's worldview is decidedly Orthodox: people fall and succeed because of their limited qualities, not because they're good or bad or whatever, the world is infinitely larger than the characters but can be profoundly affected by them, and victory is because of the divine, not the human. But the inherent tragedy of human existence, coupled with the fact that, for us Christians, death is no longer the tragedy it once was, is at the beating heart of Tolkien's works, which lines him up with Orthodoxy's hymnography and doctrine. And people can feel that out.

G.K. Chesterton is another great example of a Catholic who the Orthodox love to quote. His books Heretics and Orthodoxy and some of the most quotable and hopeful books I've ever read in my life and were part of my (still very much so ongoing) recovery from cynicism and a dead life. Chesterton's take on life as being a fairy tale that all others are based on is impossible to ignore, let alone talk down. Chesterton's fiction isn't quite as good as his non-fiction, but it has a charm that's all its own.

I don't know of a single Christian group that can actually hate C.S. Lewis. While he was nominally Anglican (c'mon, people, the Great Divorce puts him squarely into Orthodox territory at the least, if not Catholic)the fact of the matter is that The Chronicles of Narnia and The Space Trilogy have put Lewis as secondary only to Tolkien in the Christian world, and even that's arguable for a number of people.

Like I said, Orthodox and Catholic alike hold up these three giants without any shame. And that, to me, speaks to a much greater commonality than people on both sides would like to admit. An Emperor of China, when he wanted to know what his people were like, would go out and find out what art they were creating and consuming. And the fact of the matter is that, if a right-right ROCOR Orthodox can love Tolkien as much as a modern Novus Ordo Catholic, not all is lost. We can figure this out, somehow.

It very well may take the Anti-Christ to do it, but that's to be expected. We are only human, after all, and are a rather thick bunch.