So there's a card game I own called
Once Upon a Time. In it, everyone has a hand of cards which show story elements (characters, items, aspects, events, and places), and a one-sentence, predefined ending. The goal is to play out your hand by working all your cards into the story, then end it on your ending card. However, only one person has storytelling rights at a given time, and there are mechanics to change control of the story to other players, so it becomes a free-for-all of storytelling mayhem (BUT, you still have to keep the story cohesive based on everything that came before). In other words, it's an OG in card game form.
Anyway, I wrote down one of the more amusing stories from last night:
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Goats Can't TalkOnce upon a time, there was a forest, and in this forest was a guard. The guard had been stationed there by the prince himself, but for the life of him, couldn’t understand just what about this forest needed guarding. There were no bandits who lived among the trees, nor were there any wild animals on the hunt. There were only trees.
“Stupid trees,” the guard muttered to himself. “Why do I have to be stuck out here watching you? I should have become a blacksmith.”
In the heat of the afternoon, the guard decided that he should at least make one of the trees useful, and he leaned up one and promptly fell asleep.
Had he stayed awake just a few minutes longer, the guard would have seen exactly why this forest needed to be guarded, for just after he dozed off, one of the trees transformed into an Ogre. This Ogre roared and charged off through the forest, hungry and confused.
The Ogre eventually came across a cottage, and outside the cottage was a goat. The Ogre stopped and watched it, trying to decide if goats were food or not.
Upon seeing the Ogre, the goat said, "Oh goodness gracious me, an Ogre!" and promptly fainted.
The Ogre stared at it suspiciously until it woke up. “Did you just say something?”
The goat replied, “Umm…..no.”
“Hmm,” said the Ogre, still carefully watching the goat. “Are you sure about that? It seems to me that you said ‘Hello’.”
“Definitely not,” said the goat. “Need I remind you that goats can’t talk?”
“Well, of course they can’t,” said the Ogre. “Which is why I’m confused about the voice I heard.”
“I assure you, it wasn’t me,” said the goat.
The Ogre stared, and thought. He had definitely heard a voice, and there was no one here but the goat. But naturally, goats can’t talk. But if goats can’t talk, how was this goat denying his ability to talk? Something just wasn’t quite adding up. He continued to question the goat for over an hour, the goat insisting that it was mute, and the Ogre trying to trick into admitting otherwise. Eventually, the Ogre concluded that the goat MUST be able to speak, or how else could he be having this conversation?
Now, Ogres (and especially Ogres which had up until very recently been trees) have a very limited worldview, and do not react calmly when their worldview is challenged. Goats cannot talk, and yet here was a goat presuming to discuss the subject. Yes, the goat was agreeing with the Ogre, but the simple fact that he was voicing agreement was itself a disagreement.
This was all getting far too complicated.
To protect his worldview, the Ogre knew what had to be done:
He swallowed the goat whole and went galumphing off.
Eventually, he came across a beggar.
“Hello,” said the beggar. “Could you spare some coins?”
The Ogre stared at him suspiciously. “Did you just say something?”
“I did, sir. I was asking you about coins.”
The Ogre paused and thought out loud, “But I thought beggars couldn’t’ talk.”
“Well, certainly some cannot. Those are what you’d call mute beggars. You’ll find that I, on the other hand, am quite loquacious. Loquacious Ed, they calls me, on account of I talk so much. I find it helps with the begging when you’re willing to ask for coins.”
“Hmm,” said the Ogre. A talking beggar. Something seemed wrong about that. “Are you sure it’s you talking and not, say, a goat?”
“Loquacious Ed, that’s my name. Besides, we all know a goat can’t talk.”
That was a relief. The goat must have been telling the truth.
“But neither can a beggar,” said the Ogre.
“Well, I assure you, sir, Loquacious Ed is nothing if not loquacious. Now, about those coins...”
Now, Ogres (and especially Ogres which had up until very recently been trees) have a very limited worldview, and do not react calmly when their worldview is challenged. Beggars cannot talk, and yet here was a beggar presuming to discuss the subject.
This was all getting far too complicated.
To protect his worldview, the Ogre knew what had to be done:
He swallowed the beggar whole and went galumphing off.
Eventually, he came across a woodsman’s son.
“Hello,” said the boy. “Are you lost?”
The Ogre stared at him suspiciously. “Did you just say something?”
“I did, sir. I was asking if you were lost.”
The Ogre paused and thought out loud, “But I thought boys couldn’t talk.”
“Most of us can,” said the boy.
“Hmm,” said the Ogre. A talking boy. Something seemed wrong about that. “What about beggars?”
“Well, some are mute,” said the boy, “but others are quire loquacious.”
“And goats?”
“It’s known to happen,” said the boy.
The Ogre rubbed his chin as he thought. Then he saw a mountain in the distance. He pointed to it and asked, “And that mountain. Can it fly?”
“I can say with some certainty that mountains can’t fly,” said the boy.
“So, some goats and beggars can talk, all boys can, and mountains don’t fly? That can’t be right,” said the Ogre.
“Well, I’m talking, aren’t I?”
“I don’t know. Are you?”
This went on for quite some time.
Now, Ogres (and especially Ogres which had up until very recently been trees) have a very limited worldview, and do not react calmly when their worldview is challenged. Boys cannot talk, and yet here was a boys presuming to discuss the subject.
This was all getting far too complicated.
To protect his worldview, the Ogre knew what had to be done:
He swallowed the boy whole and went galumphing off.
Eventually, he came across a She-Ogre.
“Did you just say something?” she asked.
“No,” said the Ogre. “Did you?”
“I did,” said the She-Ogre. “I was asking if you said something.”
They stared at each other suspiciously. “So you’re an Ogre, then?” they asked simultaneiously. “Yes,” they both answered.
“Oh, good,” said the Ogre. “You would not believe what happened to me. I met a goat, a beggar, and a boy, who all claimed that they could talk.”
“That’s absurd!” said the She-Ogre. “None of those can talk! But I’ve had it even worse. Some tree tried to tell me that Ogres are actually trees, and we can’t talk at all. They actually made me leave the forest for talking too much.”
“Well, that can't be right,” said the Ogre. “Clearly, we’re both Ogres and we’re both talking.”
It was obviously that they were kindred sprits, and they instantly fell in love, and lived long and happy lives together, eating whatever contradicted their worldview.
Meanwhile, in the forest, the guard was being yelled at by his prince. “You fool! What did I tell you about watching this forest. These trees are so stupid that they turn into Ogres!”
The guard eyed the prince suspiciously. “That can’t be right,” he said.
“Don’t argue with me!” shouted the prince. “When I tell you to guard a forest, I expect you to stay awake! You’re fired!”
After the guard left, the prince said to himself, “This forest is a damn liability,” and he set fire to the nearest tree. The fire spread and spread until all the trees were burning. And as the flames rose higher, the evil place was destroyed.