Randomization.
There is a beauty in emergent complexity from simple rules and random inputs that I have always found captivating -- it's bordered upon obsession for years. In counterpoint, there has always been a tedium in the sketching of graphs -- but today I find myself sketching graphs for fun.
The method is imprecise and complicated, and involves graphs I can't currently photograph, so I will pass up that aspect of the process in favor of a less graphical explanation.
Our story opens with our hero in a state of contentment, which rapidly declines to anger, then panic. We're not surprised by this -- it makes perfect sense. The surprising bit is what comes next. Graham begins a rapid up-and-down pattern that lasts for at least the next four scenes, alternating between extreme depression and joy again and again -- four times. He seems to plateau briefly at a state of serene peace for a moment, but then becomes enraged and loses it.
That would be interesting enough, but there's more.
For the sake of convenience I will break this into twenty-five sections. This is the story arc. (and, apparently, our story ends on a good note, if we limit ourselves to twenty-five sections. We shall see.)
The story starts on a low note, with the speed of the plot rising precipitously. If I had to guess (and I do, because there's nobody who knows the answer) the plot starts with the cursing of Graham.
And then it gets confusing immediately. Because the next scene (which is the same tone, emotionally) directly influences the outcome of two other scenes (five and eleven). I don't even know. This is like playing Tetris with algebraic expressions.
I've been trying to make sense of this for days, and I think I've got it licked, to some extent. I'll post the twenty-five sections' outline format later, though.
For now, we have a new character to introduce. Darlough.
mannen alene kan gå i dagevis
og trenger ingen mann å følge
inne i hodet hans dusinvis
danse på visjonen sin galge
(The man alone can walk for days
With no-one near to follow
His fellows dear in dozens
In memories dance the gallows)
I wanted to write a poem, but I didn't want to do it in english since I've been doing that quite a bit lately. So, being in love with randomization and liking the look of Norwegian, I decided to try to write a rhyming stanza to see whether I could do it. Eventually, I managed to get something that looked legit enough (and rhymed) -- and the translation made me think of a character concept, which was the whole idea. And almost rhymed.
Forty years ago, a group of robbers were captured, sentenced to death, and hanged. By chance, one of their number was using the restroom when they were set upon, and managed to hide, watching from a distance as they were sent, one by one, to the gallows.
They were his family. Moreover, their posessions were all he had. He was left alone and penniless.
But, frightened and grief-stricken, he was unwilling to turn back to banditry, and instead planned to become a singer, as it was the other travelling profession with which he was familliar and he wasn't sure how to take up a trade.
It turned out he didn't need to -- as he taught himself to sing, he gradually found the world around him changing in response. He was a wizard -- a powerful one. Since, he has ascended to the throne of the northern isles, where his mastery of the wind and waves provides a safe harbor in the formerly-unclaimed (and uninhabitable) crags and fjords.
He has also made something of a name for himself with regards to curses, which he generously bestows on anyone he finds irritating. It is unlikely, though, that he was behind this particular one -- his strengths do not lie in fire.
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