05-23-2017, 12:53 PM
(This post was last modified: 04-17-2018, 10:43 PM by Dane Regan.
Edit Reason: Polishing off some spelling/grammar
)
Summoning was weird. It still had rules, yes. But that didn't change how the process seemed to disregard everything Dane knew about physics. The Omnilium he could access felt infinite in potential, yet also limited. Like someone was stopping him using too much. With regards to what he could create, it seemed as if any thoughts he had over an object were sent through a complex flowchart, which boiled down to a simple question: "Can I summon this? (Yes/No)". He didn't even have to go to the trouble of actually attempting to create anything: just thinking and visualising something while holding the coalescing orb of colours (or simply focusing enough) gave him the mental feedback. Sort of. It was a bit more instinctive; like he himself knew - he just had to consider it to find out. For example, he could think about shields all day, but would never know for sure if he could summon one until he tried.
And so, that's what Dane did. But first, he set about keeping track. Sitting down with his back against a tree for a little over five minutes, a book with blank A5 size pages along with a few pencils weaved themselves into existence. He scribbled a quick table with the headers: "Date", "Object", "Can summon?", "___". Not knowing what to put in the first column, he wrote 0. Using the days since his arrival would work well enough until he found a standard calendar. The object column was to be filled with brief words and descriptions; the "Can summon?" one he planned to use ticks and crosses; the last column was left blank, simply in case he later needed to add additional notes.
Lazily stumbling to his feet, his mind swam with ideas. Writing while walking was nothing new to him. With a thick enough book, it was easy enough. Which just meant he could only write on one side of the page. Once in the past, he'd been ambushed while working on one of his books, but usually, he was aware enough to avoid walking into trees, tripping over rocks, or straying from his intended path. In the time his lack of attention had backfired, they'd just been common thieves. People who fled at the slightest hint of magic. One might think Dane would have been warier in a foreign land. Those people didn't know him. For an intelligent person, he was pretty careless. Thus, he worked on his notes without a care for the world.
Yeah, that should mean we can do something like...
Not yet? That doesn't make sense.
Perhaps it means we don't have enough Omnilium? Yes... it does mean that.
Then how do we get more?
We'll probably find out eventually. But, it's either like magic, where the more you use it, the stronger your core gets. Or we can mine, make or steal it.
Perhaps Omnilium is just a medium? Our connection to Omni, or some energy.
What about ones we haven't seen. Like pikes, which no one back home uses anymore. They all prefer halberds.
We've never seen an avocado before, even in a picture.
We don't even know what they are, so it's probably going to be a no.
Yaaaay.
That was sarcastic.
Actually, it does give me ideas.
So we can summon things that don't actually exist, as long as we can define them. That makes sense. We just need an appearance and purpose - I think.
We do need to test all these things, though. I mean, we've just briefly thought about summoning each object and got an OK. We don't know if the outcome would actually be as expected.
Finally deciding on a use for the blank space he left earlier, Dane noted "Have summoned?" at the top. Most boxes were left blank, besides the hat and writing tools Dane summoned previously. He
Dane did have brief aims, and the slowly setting sun reminded him of that. The experimentation, if it could even be called that, was effortless. It was easy to continue and he soon found many pages filled with possibilities. Dane had already spotted a pattern. But now it was glaringly obvious that anything he could describe seemed to be able to summonable - although in some cases the process of doing so felt restricted. In other words, he just needed to know the key properties but knowing the mechanism itself didn't matter. So he could probably make a stick that just happened to shoot lightning, which was infuriating to his logical mind. Unspecific requests could still get a yes as a response from the Omnilium as long as he could imagine the outcome and none of the previous rules were violated. Thinking fruit made a basket of apples, oranges, peaches, pears, grapes, and the like appear in his head, with a yes as feedback. There was still a few anomalies. Anything with a key benefit to Dane, primarily combat focused, of with benefits in that area, felt like it would actually cost him Omnilium - that it would drain his supply or his allowance. Not that food and hats wouldn't, just that their "cost" was minuscule in comparison. Anything larger than about a cart or small shack was also like that. Which was strange. Couldn't he just individually summon the parts and make something larger by hand?
He'd have to test that at some point, he decided. He also had to properly test whether or not he could summon the stuff he'd ticked off. And everything he'd crossed - but he didn't want to try those. It was similar to holding a hand near a fire; you could touch it, but why would you? Trying to summon something he'd crossed out felt just like that. It was getting dark, he could try that tomorrow, now was time to make some food, a tent, and test out the bacon tree. So that's what he did.
And it worked. It took the better part of an hour, but it actually worked. There was a tree, twenty feet tall, and on it grew raw rashers of bacon; the trunk was still brown, but the leaves were a dark, crispy, reddish-pink. It looked weird. It shouldn't be able to exist, and it would probably die out due to the nutrients required to produce bacon instead of normal fruit. But that was OK. It was alive now, and any specifics in the biology could be modified at a later date. It smelt nice too.
Jumping into the air like a kangaroo, Dane plucked a handful of the rashers off. The leaves definitely smelt like cooked bacon, which was no surprise. It was how he'd imagined it after all. He set up a campfire and reread his notes, leaving the bacon to cook. A better stove would have been nice, but Dane was feeling lazy. His current setup would do. Living on bacon was a perfectly good way to go.
What haven't we considered?
Making two bacon trees?
Testing some other alien-like thing?
Wait... that gives me an idea.
It was worth a try. But, beings as we're not familiar with him, I doubt we could replicate him.
What about:
How would we tell the difference?
We can't. So, it sort of wouldn't matter.
Then are we a copy?
We have no way of knowing. Probably not. Or maybe. I don't know and it doesn't matter. Clones that are the exact same as the original might as well not be a clone at all.
Then maybe...
Indeed.
But they're dead... how?
They'd be a clone. But we don't care about that.
Hmm... should we though? Wouldn't they remember? And we killed two of them.
Technically it was three...
No. No, it was two.
Regardless, I'm sure they'd be grateful to be alive. And anyway, we could just kill them again if they're not. It was for a good cause the first time, though.
You sound like a sociopath.
Psychopath.
We saved lives. They'd have got the village and our men killed. Just because the protocol says to do something doesn't mean it's the best cause of action. We won that battle. And they were going to kill us for "having the nerve" to suggest they were wrong. If anything, they should be thanking us.
Let's sleep on it.
The bacon, as expected, tasted like bacon. It was good. Dane packed up his small collection of things, flopped into his tent, and fell asleep. While thoughts and ideas plagued his mind, he was able to push them back well enough.
And so, that's what Dane did. But first, he set about keeping track. Sitting down with his back against a tree for a little over five minutes, a book with blank A5 size pages along with a few pencils weaved themselves into existence. He scribbled a quick table with the headers: "Date", "Object", "Can summon?", "___". Not knowing what to put in the first column, he wrote 0. Using the days since his arrival would work well enough until he found a standard calendar. The object column was to be filled with brief words and descriptions; the "Can summon?" one he planned to use ticks and crosses; the last column was left blank, simply in case he later needed to add additional notes.
Lazily stumbling to his feet, his mind swam with ideas. Writing while walking was nothing new to him. With a thick enough book, it was easy enough. Which just meant he could only write on one side of the page. Once in the past, he'd been ambushed while working on one of his books, but usually, he was aware enough to avoid walking into trees, tripping over rocks, or straying from his intended path. In the time his lack of attention had backfired, they'd just been common thieves. People who fled at the slightest hint of magic. One might think Dane would have been warier in a foreign land. Those people didn't know him. For an intelligent person, he was pretty careless. Thus, he worked on his notes without a care for the world.
- Can I summon a new hat, exactly the same as my one from before? Yes.
- Can I summon a new hat, the same as before but not itchy? No.
Yeah, that should mean we can do something like...
- Can I summon a hat, similar to before, but with smoother and neater weaving? Yes.
- Would it be itchy? ...
- Can I summon a set of loose-fitting leather armour, with lots of pockets? Yes.
- Can I summon a set of Axemerax's armour? No.
- Can I summon a set of thick plate armour that just happens to enforce movements, and work and look similar to Axemerax's armour - but in my size?
Not yet? That doesn't make sense.
Perhaps it means we don't have enough Omnilium? Yes... it does mean that.
Then how do we get more?
We'll probably find out eventually. But, it's either like magic, where the more you use it, the stronger your core gets. Or we can mine, make or steal it.
- Can I summon Omnilium? ...
Perhaps Omnilium is just a medium? Our connection to Omni, or some energy.
- Can I summon a greatsword? Yes.
- Can I summon a dagger? Yes.
- Can I summon a longbow? Yes.
- Can I summon a quiver of arrows? Yes.
- Can I summon a crossbow? Yes.
What about ones we haven't seen. Like pikes, which no one back home uses anymore. They all prefer halberds.
- Can I summon a pike? Yes.
- Can I summon a ballista? Yes.
We've never seen an avocado before, even in a picture.
We don't even know what they are, so it's probably going to be a no.
- Can I summon an avocado? No.
- Can I summon an apple? Yes.
- Pears? Yes.
- Oranges? Yes.
- A bunch of grapes? Yes.
Yaaaay.
That was sarcastic.
Actually, it does give me ideas.
- A tree? Yes.
- An apple tree? Yes.
- A bacon tree? Yes.
So we can summon things that don't actually exist, as long as we can define them. That makes sense. We just need an appearance and purpose - I think.
We do need to test all these things, though. I mean, we've just briefly thought about summoning each object and got an OK. We don't know if the outcome would actually be as expected.
Finally deciding on a use for the blank space he left earlier, Dane noted "Have summoned?" at the top. Most boxes were left blank, besides the hat and writing tools Dane summoned previously. He
Dane did have brief aims, and the slowly setting sun reminded him of that. The experimentation, if it could even be called that, was effortless. It was easy to continue and he soon found many pages filled with possibilities. Dane had already spotted a pattern. But now it was glaringly obvious that anything he could describe seemed to be able to summonable - although in some cases the process of doing so felt restricted. In other words, he just needed to know the key properties but knowing the mechanism itself didn't matter. So he could probably make a stick that just happened to shoot lightning, which was infuriating to his logical mind. Unspecific requests could still get a yes as a response from the Omnilium as long as he could imagine the outcome and none of the previous rules were violated. Thinking fruit made a basket of apples, oranges, peaches, pears, grapes, and the like appear in his head, with a yes as feedback. There was still a few anomalies. Anything with a key benefit to Dane, primarily combat focused, of with benefits in that area, felt like it would actually cost him Omnilium - that it would drain his supply or his allowance. Not that food and hats wouldn't, just that their "cost" was minuscule in comparison. Anything larger than about a cart or small shack was also like that. Which was strange. Couldn't he just individually summon the parts and make something larger by hand?
He'd have to test that at some point, he decided. He also had to properly test whether or not he could summon the stuff he'd ticked off. And everything he'd crossed - but he didn't want to try those. It was similar to holding a hand near a fire; you could touch it, but why would you? Trying to summon something he'd crossed out felt just like that. It was getting dark, he could try that tomorrow, now was time to make some food, a tent, and test out the bacon tree. So that's what he did.
And it worked. It took the better part of an hour, but it actually worked. There was a tree, twenty feet tall, and on it grew raw rashers of bacon; the trunk was still brown, but the leaves were a dark, crispy, reddish-pink. It looked weird. It shouldn't be able to exist, and it would probably die out due to the nutrients required to produce bacon instead of normal fruit. But that was OK. It was alive now, and any specifics in the biology could be modified at a later date. It smelt nice too.
Jumping into the air like a kangaroo, Dane plucked a handful of the rashers off. The leaves definitely smelt like cooked bacon, which was no surprise. It was how he'd imagined it after all. He set up a campfire and reread his notes, leaving the bacon to cook. A better stove would have been nice, but Dane was feeling lazy. His current setup would do. Living on bacon was a perfectly good way to go.
What haven't we considered?
Making two bacon trees?
Testing some other alien-like thing?
Wait... that gives me an idea.
- Can I summon Axemerax? No.
It was worth a try. But, beings as we're not familiar with him, I doubt we could replicate him.
What about:
- The blacksmith from Aerun, back home? Yes.
- The town guard from back home? Yes.
- The Demon King? No.
How would we tell the difference?
We can't. So, it sort of wouldn't matter.
Then are we a copy?
We have no way of knowing. Probably not. Or maybe. I don't know and it doesn't matter. Clones that are the exact same as the original might as well not be a clone at all.
Then maybe...
- Can I summon Ivy Flower? Yes.
- John Drake? Yes.
- Steve Ishmir? Yes.
Indeed.
But they're dead... how?
They'd be a clone. But we don't care about that.
Hmm... should we though? Wouldn't they remember? And we killed two of them.
Technically it was three...
No. No, it was two.
Regardless, I'm sure they'd be grateful to be alive. And anyway, we could just kill them again if they're not. It was for a good cause the first time, though.
You sound like a sociopath.
Psychopath.
We saved lives. They'd have got the village and our men killed. Just because the protocol says to do something doesn't mean it's the best cause of action. We won that battle. And they were going to kill us for "having the nerve" to suggest they were wrong. If anything, they should be thanking us.
Let's sleep on it.
The bacon, as expected, tasted like bacon. It was good. Dane packed up his small collection of things, flopped into his tent, and fell asleep. While thoughts and ideas plagued his mind, he was able to push them back well enough.
Quote:This felt a bit grindy. But, Dane testing all this is definitely something he'd do. I don't want to handwave it. Though I think Dane is a more interesting character when put near to others.