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GodOfOrder

Well-Known Member
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#1
I am Zachary, but you may call me GodOfOrder.

I am a university student majoring in political science and minoring in philosophy. Among my greatest interests are philosophy, classical music, playing my violin, and researching any bovine excrement field I can come across.

Incidentally, that is how I came here. Not to say that this is bovine excrement:D
In my many eclectic studies, I developed an interest in the discredited, but still highly interesting, field of alchemy. That led to a study of Carl Jung, and Jungian psychology. This led to researching typology. After discovering typology, I wondered what my personality type was. Apparently I am an INTP. Research into that led me here.

Well, that's me

I look forward to talking to you on the forums
 
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#2
I am Zachary, but you may call me GodOfOrder.

I am a university student majoring in political science and minoring in philosophy. Among my greatest interests are philosophy, classical music, playing my violin, and researching any bovine excrement field I can come across.
Are you a god of order GodOfOrder? You don't seriously wish to order political science or philosophy, do you? Laying out of fields is okay though.
 

GodOfOrder

Well-Known Member
Local time
Today, 12:37
Joined
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Messages
520
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West Virginia
#3
Ha

My name is not related to my fields of study in any direct fashion. The name, like all of my other names on any other forum, is intended as a private joke, and as a way to tell everyone else that I am at heart a rather pompous and somewhat pedantic ass. It is playfully sarcastic. If you want to dissect my name, I suppose I would be willing to try and give it a justified explanation. (Though do remember, I am not serious and this logic doesn't really stand)

My name is derived from two parts. I am a god, and my dominion is order.

God is a rational agent, and a mover in the universe. I am a rational agent and a mover in the universe. Therefore I am god.

As a rational agent, I am by nature, ordered. As is everything in my domain.

In all seriousness though, no I do not have domain over my fields, and no I do not think myself god. However, I am quite logical and, while everything in my life is unorganized and sometimes rather messy, I strive for logical consistency and strive to find an underlying order to even the most seemingly random events. ;)
 
Local time
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Joined
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Messages
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#4
Then welcome to this Forum where you will find many are looking for order while others throw things up in the air hoping the random display can ultimately be ordered.

Me? I look for "figuring it out" and have recently learned I can get angry when someone hurls a blinder in my direction. May you survive and prevail over such things.
 

TheScornedReflex

(Per) Version of a truth.
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#5
*runs in and pokes BAP in the eyes* You mad?:p

Any way welcome to the forum GodOfOrder. Just so you know I like chaos!! *kicks you in nuts*
 
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#7
Pfft! and welcome!

The Pfft was not directed at you but rather the idea that science has not yet explain the presence of Order in the universe, despite them claiming that they have proof that the whole thing started with a handful of primordial 'bovine excrement" which somehow was suddenly motivated to create the whole damn bovine and all of its accessaries (galaxies, solar systems, planets, planets with grass etc.)

They can't even work up the nerve to label ordering as a positive force, No, it has to be anti-entrophic, a mere derivative of the concept of entropy...

Like I said,

Pfft!
 

GodOfOrder

Well-Known Member
Local time
Today, 12:37
Joined
Jan 10, 2013
Messages
520
Location
West Virginia
#8
Pfft! and welcome!

The Pfft was not directed at you but rather the idea that science has not yet explain the presence of Order in the universe, despite them claiming that they have proof that the whole thing started with a handful of primordial 'bovine excrement" which somehow was suddenly motivated to create the whole damn bovine and all of its accessaries (galaxies, solar systems, planets, planets with grass etc.)

They can't even work up the nerve to label ordering as a positive force, No, it has to be anti-entrophic, a mere derivative of the concept of entropy...

Like I said,

Pfft!
I would say that the mere concept of science is an admission of universal order, because the concept of the scientific method relies on the discovery of pervasive natural patterns. In science, a theory is tested in an experiment over and over again. This is done with the assumption that, if all the conditions are kept the same, the end result will always be the same. Therefore, according to the most basic principles of science, the universe is ordered.

Therefore, science need not explain it, because the existence of science, and the concept of intelligibility in the universe are enough to confirm, or at least postulate, it's existence.
 

Duxwing

I've Overcome Existential Despair
Local time
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Joined
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Messages
3,783
#9
Pfft! and welcome!

The Pfft was not directed at you but rather the idea that science has not yet explain the presence of Order in the universe, despite them claiming that they have proof that the whole thing started with a handful of primordial 'bovine excrement" which somehow was suddenly motivated to create the whole damn bovine and all of its accessaries (galaxies, solar systems, planets, planets with grass etc.)

They can't even work up the nerve to label ordering as a positive force, No, it has to be anti-entrophic, a mere derivative of the concept of entropy...

Like I said,

Pfft!
Well, actually, we don't know what caused the Big Bang itself yet, so please be patient while the scientific community works on an answer.

And, @God of Order

Here's an in-universe greeting to our forum. Take it with a grain of salt, but enjoy it nonetheless. And I encourage you to answer the question posed at the end in your own literary "voice".

__________________________________________________ ___________________

As winter's snowflakes drift from clouds on high, you make soft strides o'er the ground below. Beneath your coat, bandages cover the wounds of battles past. You think of how your blood had run red as an autumn apple, making little crimson pools in the freshly fallen snow. Yet you didn't let the darkness take you; with fury that burnt like the summer sun, you'd risen, angry tears pouring down your cheeks. You'd wanted to make the seas run red with the blood of those who'd attacked you; to choke the rivers with their bodies; to rend the night with their screams of anguish! But they had gone, and you were alone.

You took what little you had left: a beaver-skin coat too ragged to sell, wool pants too tattered to wear, and love note-- now wet and nearly ruined-- from a Jane, girl you'd met in the last town you'd been to, Evair. On that first night you'd met at the New Year's festival, she'd wrapped you in her coat when he'd seen you shivering, she'd listened when you'd ranted about the cold, and she'd had just that certain twinkle in her eye. When the night had ended, she'd taken you back to her house. Suddenly, you'd realized that you liked her, but not like that; she'd noticed, slapped her forehead, put her palm over her face, and said, "You're right, I'm taking things too fast; I'm sorry. Here, I hope that this helps," and offered you a silver piece to get a room at the town's inn. You'd said goodbye, walked down the steps, and off to that nice warm bed. There's a silver lining to every cloud, you'd thought to yourself.

The next day, you hadn't seen her. You'd looked for her by the ashes of the bonfire, in the tavern, and even in the jail. No luck. In desperation, you'd walked back to her house and knocked on the door. No response.

Oi, what a strange girl: Eager to get frisky one day and hidden the next. had rung your thought. How could anyone be so shaky with their feelings?

But as your eyes had passed over the top of her door frame, you'd found the answer. A Latin motto, in black gothic letters upon the worn white wood, had been there. It had read, Logica, Scientia, Veritas. Classic INTP.

I guess that Fe had gotten the best of her

And as the days had passed Jane had become but a foggy memory, and your time at the inn had come to an end. The innkeeper had given you a few hours that morning to pack your things: spare clothes, a few pieces of bread, a jug of water, a small knife. As you had been putting them into your leather satchel, you'd heard a knock on the door to your room. "Who is it?" You'd asked. No reply. You'd sighed, gotten up, and opened the door. There had been no-one there, only a note. "To God of Order," had read the title. Within, there had been all the signs of a love-struck thinker trying to express herself: crossed out words replaced with ones that were themselves crossed out and replaced with words whose definitions you could barely remember, forcefully pressed pen-strokes, and even a horridly scribbled picture mentioning a visit to a place called "INTP Forum". Another sigh had passed your lips; 'twas cute.

So with note in hand you had left that town, and with note in hand you'd been beaten down, cut, stabbed, and hurled against a sycamore tree by a roving gang of robbers. They'd left you for dead, but they had been wrong. And you had risen from your snowy resting place to take revenge by living-- living in a place where one could walk in peace. You'd ripped some cloth from your meager clothes and fashioned bandages to keep your wounds at bay, gathered your strength, and pressed on into the cold.

And so you stand in the freshly fallen powder like a springtime bud: hardy, strong, and alive despite the bitter cold of nature. You stride forward, eager to know what the world has in store, eager to forget the battles past, eager to let the wounds heal and let you live in peace. Zzzip! An arrow zings by! Snapped back from your thinking, you leap behind a snowbank!

"Halt, who goes there?" cries a woman's voice.

You press closer to the bank, shut your eyes, and shudder.

"Who goes there?!" she cries again.

Your chest rises and falls like a drum beaten by a madman.

"In the name of the order of the INTP forum, who goes there?" the woman cries out once more.

Your eyes flash open. You recall the note that you'd carried in your pocket. You realize that you might be saved!

"H-here! I-I'm h-here" you chatter, partly from cold, partly from fear.

"Then stand and unfold yourself!" comes the reply.

You rise and shout back, "I-I a-a-am God of Order the B-Brave!"

The woman wears a thick, russet tunic-- warm enough to brave any chill-- navy blue pants, full mail, and hard leather boots. She carries a hard-used, rusty broadsword upon her hip, and, upon one of her rough, strong arms, a buckler that bears the image of a quill and inkpot. Beneath the symbol are the words, "Logica, Scientia, Veritas". Her mien is one of confident determination, and her eyes look upon the world with the air of long-dead heroes. Relieved, you walk toward her and exchange stories. Her name is Jennywocky, and she's been guardian of the order of the INTP forum for years and asks if you'd like a place to stay. You nod, teeth still chattering in the bitter cold.

The two of you walk for hours on end, crossing wind-swept hill and frozen dale. The snow, which once fell but one flake at a time, now falls in huge sheets and piles in great drifts as far as the eye can see. The wind howls and roars like a demon, ready to swallow you both up. You shudder and shake, but Jennywocky has nothing to wrap you in. The winter wonderland has become a frozen waste, and the sun, which sets early in the winter, falls below the horizon. The night is as black as pitch.

"H-how are w-we to g-get t-to the O-order?" you ask, teeth clattering together.

"Well, I know a song that will help us get home," she replies:

"In winter-tiding's starry night
See abbey fires burning bright
See the north-star's e'er fixed light
And you will find your home to-night"

Her voice croaks a bit with the cold, and you can barely hear the words over the blasting wind, but for that moment, she looks happy-- like woodpecker caught in a thunderstorm who finds brief respite beneath a tree. Yet the snow pounds down like huge bricks of lead. Each step is harder than the last, and you eventually drop to your knees in exhaustion.

"J-Jennywocky, g-give th-this n-note to a girl n-named J-Jane in E-evair. T-tell h-her th-that i-it had k-kept me warm. Th-then, r-raise y-your s-sword to s-s-tormy c-clouds o-on h-high, th-then b-bring i-it d-down u-upon m-my n-neck; i-it's a b-better way t-to d-die."

"God of Order, where is your courage?"

"I-in the d-drifts of s-snow"

Alice pauses, looking down at her boots. Then she kneels down before you and looks you in the eye.

"Come pain, come death, come suffering, your name is forever. Like a legend, it carries you thousands of miles. So rise, brave God of Order, rise and take the name that you were given!" Your jaw quivers a bit. Your whole body tenses up. With one great breath, you straighten to a height that you never known that you'd had. With the fury of the summer sun, with angry tears frozen on your cheeks, with all the courage of your name, you rise.

"Death's scythe shall clang upon the armor of my rage" you shout, too furious to chatter.

And so it does. Made warm by the heat of a summer sun within your breast, you press on for miles through the night and eventually come to a titanic castle. You barely make out a motto on its towering iron doors, "Logica, Scientia, Veritas". Alice smiles at you as you mouth the words. The sentries, who stand upon the walls, call down through the howling wind, "Jennywocky the Guardian, who stands beside you?"

"G-God of Order th-the B-B-Brave!" you scream up at them "A-and I-I'll c-climb up th-that t-t-tower and r-rip y-your throats o-out i-i-if y-you d-don't l-let us in! A-AM I-I C-C-CLEAR?"

Jennywocky nudges your ribs, "Easy, easy, take it easy. We're reasonable people here, no need to shout".

"W-wait? Th-they're a-all INTP's l-like m-m-me?"

"Well, yes, for the most part; however similar we may be, though, some of our most colorful members aren't INTP's at all.". You tilt your head questioningly.

"Cognisant, for example, is an ENTP, and he's practically melded with the floorboards. The place just wouldn't be the same without his Ne-fueled dreams of humanoid robots and sentient AI. Just be careful with his feelings, though: he's sad and lonely so he tries to pretend that he's emotionless."

One sentry runs down and opens the a small door in the larger ones. The two of you enter and proceed into the bailey.

"My, my, my, is this God of Order the Brave?" asks the guard. You snarl at him like a hungry wolf. He gulps. "For the title is well deserved!" The sentry directs you toward a large stone building just a little to the left of where you'd entered. He tips his helmet disappears into the falling snow.

"Well, I suppose that this is goodbye, God of Order." says Jennywocky as the two of you stand before the building's door, a tinge of sadness in her voice. "My place is out there, standing watch and searching the woods for others like you." She gives you a hug as warm as a crackling fire, a lonely sigh under her breath. Then, she too disappears into the drifting flakes and howling wind. You open the door and enter.

You find yourself standing in the atrium of a great castle. A mosaic of light streams through stained glass windows bearing the visages of such great men as Socrates, Plato, Godel, Picasso, and Nietszche and creates bright, dappled pools the dim vastness. Two white-bearded old men argue unintelligibly over what looks like calculus, but could very well be abstract modern art. You wander through the softly rustling halls and hear the clinking of glass and the ringing of laughter down another hall. Though they are far away, these festivities have a distant quality in themselves-- like the horizon at sunset, always so far away; curious, you walk toward the far and merry sounds.

As you softly step over a fallen lectern, you hear the racket reach a climax. The laughter is still distant, yet roaring! You wish that you could enter, you wish that you could just walk in and slip into the crowd, you wish that you'd instantly be one of the members, but you know that such things take time; as you begin to walk away, the words of Jennywocky transfix you like one of her arrows, "So rise, brave God of Order, rise and take the name that you were given!". You imagine her standing beside you with that look of devil-may-care determination in her eyes, a gutsy smile on her lips, weather-beaten arms crossed over her breastplate, dinged and rusty sword hanging from her hip, and flakes of snow drifting from her hair. You stare at her and whisper, "But Jennywocky, I can't; I'm just a wanderer. They've likely got years of philosophical, political, and scientific education and experience behind them; I'm only a kid."

With an incredulous chuckle and a hand on your shoulder, Jennywocky replies, "Gimme a break, kid. These people were all once just like you: cold, lonely wanderers looking for a place to call home. And guess what? The order welcomed them with open arms."

"But that's inductive logic!" you reply, shoulder slinking back under her glove.

Jennywocky retorts, "The matter at hand is scientific, not philosophical. We're looking to create an empirical model that will predict the most likely outcome, not every outcome."

"But what if a black swan arrives?" you implore her, begging her to see the deeper philosophical question.

"I understand that my model does not account for every possibility, but since I am limited to knowing only inputs and outputs, not the true nature of the acceptance-rejection mechanism; therefore, the best that I can do is make an educated guess, and my guess is that you'll be brought into the fold swimmingly."

With a heavy sigh, you nod, "Point made, Alice, point made," escape the words. You glumly turn to face the entrance. Again her hand stops you!

"Hey? Is God of Order the Brave about to enter a room all sulky and sad?" she prods. Your silence unnerves her slightly, yet she presses on.

"God of Order, listen,." she begins, a hint of compassion entering her voice, "We all get nervous when we're going to meet new people: Nobody can tell you what'll happen, they could be crazy, they could be murderers, they even might want to kidnap you and boil your skin in molten salt-- the whole gamut of human existence is a possibility when meeting people for the first time--"

"--see! You're just going to get yourself--" you butt in, sitting down again.

She continues with a voice as soft as lilacs and as strong as mountains "--even though we know that the next person could very well harbor deep animosity toward every living thing, we keep talking, for long years of lonely sorrow can be outweighed by just a few of friendship."

A long, quiet pause breaks her words, and you reply without a sound. You reach your hand up and... find that she, being but a memory, isn't there. But her words echo in your mind, stirring a thunder in your heart. You rise without tears, a smile of fond reminiscence upon your face, whisper, "Thanks, Alice, turn toward the door, and enter.

A resplendent golden light beams down from a chandelier upon a long, broad banquet table piled high with all the beasts and plants of the earth. A sad boy of twenty-two years sits there, drunk, wearing a masquerade mask over half his face, and alone. But not quite. Around him, dressed in all the airs of high society, are figures made from brass and wood. From time to time, one raises an arm and brings it crashing down on the table as if it had heard something worth laughing over. Then the boy laughs, a creaking, distant, lonely laugh, one wet with the wine that had once been within the towering bottle by his chalice. As you walk in, he sees your shadow on the table. As he looks up, his mask falls, and he roots you to the spot with eyes full of pain and loneliness. Then, a softly shivered sigh passes his lips, he slaps his forehead, squeezes his eyes shut, then tips the table over with a tremendous crash and sprints out a door in the back yelling, "I have no soul! Emotions are but a defect of my design. See the men of wood and brass-- they don't even wince when they're lonely!"

Disturbed, you gulp and step out of the room. Was that Cognisant? you wonder. You return to the atrium; there, a cloaked figure emerges from the shadows, holding a leather satchel that bears your name.

"Hail, traveler, and welcome to our quiet halls. You'll find a room down five doors and on your left-- mind the cobblestone floors, it's easy to stub your toe. The nights are a bit cold, drafty, and damp, but there's plenty of hot, crispy, succulent roast boar and cold, sweet, clear mead to wash it down. This place has a glorious history of titanic battles among the great knights of our order: Cognisant, Architect, Da Blob, and ProxyAmenRa, just to name a few. And in our finest hours, we've taken trophies: the heads of Norse Gods, the crimson blood of dreamers scorned, and the still-beating heart of a troll. Yet, if trade you seek, other manors may better able to help you.

For example, and though you likely didn't see it through the snow, the one-hundred story glass tower that you saw on the way in is a colony of ENTJ's; their very similar functions and yet different perspective on life have made trade and friendship with them both lucrative and interesting. But they are just as 'soulless' as we, and few have ever tried to mate with them-- a course I that highly recommend maintaining.

As a final detail, even we of the rational temperament can fall victim to our emotions. Try to remember that in your posts, as even a simple, "Alright, let's let this cool off for a few days" or "Oh, that must have hurt something awful; here's a dry shoulder *hug* " can work wonders when another poster is angry or upset."

With a gentle nod and the wink of an eye, he hands you the satchel. Therein you find your room keys, a thick, warm, cotton cloak, cold, slippery slices of partridge carefully wrapped in parchment paper, a small, hearty loaf of bread, and a frosty glass bottle of water from the castle's spring.

"Just in case you decide to leave, let this be a gift from our order" interrupts the figure "Oh, and do dig deeper, you'll be pleasantly surprised."

Reaching further into the satchel's murky depths, you find a scroll on which is written in small, neat script, an oath:

The Thinker's Creed

In brightest day,
In darkest night
No falsehood shall escape my sight
Let those who worship Madness' might
Beware my power,
Pure logic's light!

The cloaked figure touches your shoulder and asks:

"Swear you this oath? For only through it shall you find Truth, be it in the Void or another code. In times of darkness, let it be your candle."

-Duxwing
 

GodOfOrder

Well-Known Member
Local time
Today, 12:37
Joined
Jan 10, 2013
Messages
520
Location
West Virginia
#10
Thank you master Duxwing for welcoming me to this mighty hall. With good time I hope to see it all.

Though many men in these walls mutter, and sometimes I can only stutter, I one day hope to call them brother.

Swear I this noble oath? Dare I say what great men hath quoth?

Yes, indeed I do, for I have, in my heart, always known it to be true.

"In brightest day,
In darkest night
No falsehood shall escape my sight
Let those who worship Madness' might
Beware my power,
Pure logic's light!"

********

Duxwing,

I thank you for that. It was informative and most entertaining. It is quite a way to greet the new members. I love fantasy lit. and kept Tolkien like imagery in my mind the entire time I was reading that. I also love green lantern.

It sets a good tone.

-GodOfOrder

PS also forgive me if my poor skill in writing somewhat poetic language has offended you by killing the tone of your epic tale; or if you feel it violated some notion of artistic integrity ;)
 

Duxwing

I've Overcome Existential Despair
Local time
Today, 12:37
Joined
Sep 9, 2012
Messages
3,783
#11
Thank you master Duxwing for welcoming me to this mighty hall. With good time I hope to see it all.

Though many men in these walls mutter, and sometimes I can only stutter, I one day hope to call them brother.

Swear I this noble oath? Dare I say what great men hath quoth?

Yes, indeed I do, for I have, in my heart, always known it to be true.

"In brightest day,
In darkest night
No falsehood shall escape my sight
Let those who worship Madness' might
Beware my power,
Pure logic's light!"

********

Duxwing,

I thank you for that. It was informative and most entertaining. It is quite a way to greet the new members. I love fantasy lit. and kept Tolkien like imagery in my mind the entire time I was reading that. I also love green lantern.

It sets a good tone.

-GodOfOrder

PS also forgive me if my poor skill in writing somewhat poetic language has offended you by killing the tone of your epic tale; or if you feel it violated some notion of artistic integrity ;)
Wow! I had never expected you to think that I was the cloaked figure (I never intended it); I do like your interpretation, though. :) And your poetry was actually quite nice, especially your second stanza. The rhyme and verse actually enhanced the tone-- I felt chills when you said "In my heart I know it to be true"-- and I liked how you responded overall. It felt right. ;)

I've also made a few edits to the story since you've read it:

-I changed Alice's name to Jennywocky (a well-known empathetic INTP on this forum) due to their similarities
-I shifted some of the words around in the Cognisant scene
-I made the imagination sequence more logical with regard to body positions

These alterations are nothing to re-read the story over, but every little edit brings me closer to capturing the essence and ethos of this forum. Apart from those matters, I'm glad that you enjoyed my story: Hearing the praise and thanks of happy readers is part of what makes greeting people with stories so much fun.

Happy Thinking!
-Duxwing
 
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