Fuck me I swore I was going to go back to reviewing. It is almost impossible in this benighted era to turn around for one second without some maladaptive social justice freak saying something utterly retarded. Thus it should come as no suprise that I am about to weigh in on the topic of some brain-damaged social justice freak saying something utterly retarded.
Even a mildly critical appraisal of this piece of slash-fic vaguely disguised as a narrative leads one to conclude that this person renew her perscription medication. Yet the rallying cry of the strong, independent
professional victim and obvious liar damsel in distress managed once again to raise an army of sex-starved self-loathing dimwits to leap to m’ladys defence. And lo before we blink our disbelieving eyes a host of emanciated stick figures and blue-haired, unshaven flesh-balloons did waddle effeminately onto the battlefield, waving rainbow-coloured banners and mismatching gender-neutral white platemail, did gather in a great circlejerk, performed the mother of all virtue signals and declared a socjus Kanly upon the benighted shitlord holdfast of Wyrd Miniatures. And a great sighing and facepalming did resound throughout the universe.
I should post my habitual disclaimer so I am proof against the Mysognist label that my millions of avid readers are no doubt slavering to unleash upon my humble person in understandable envy at my fame and writing prowess:
Blah blah freakish discivilisational marxist subhumans blah blah cynical exploitation of rape-victimhood for finanfical gain blah blah actually hinders actual rape victims which you are not you are nothing blah blah laugh heartily at your misfortune blah blah strange death cult blah blah crybullying blah blah.
A rational man and a tactician would suppose that, with the rising opposition against the by now obvious societal cancer of SocJus and their 3rd wave feminist/BLM cohorts, they would learn to inject their bogus and increasingly threadbare narratives with some element of plausibility. One would be wrong. Like a gender-fluid otherkin version of Robert E Lee, the regressive Left instead uppes the ante, daring you to disbelieve their obvious lies and going so far as to label you unperson for the mere act of asking for evidence. A bold, if desperate move indeed.
Naturally, the following quote from the CEO of Wyrd miniatures puts the statement in very obvious perspective. The actual quote may be found on facebook, of course.
You’d think Wyrd is a fucking nest of MRA’s (not that there is anything wrong with that etc. etc.) or something, but the reality is that these attacks tend to be directed at companies that are fairly liberal and progressive themselves, because the truth is that their weird accusations and threats and lies would not work on people that were genuinely guilty of them. Why would a racist care if he is called racist? Perhaps he would disagree, but there would be no emotional component to the insult, and thus very probably no action. It is nothing more then a shaming tactic, an static-laced shriek meant to identify someone as the other.
This woman is correct that our hobby has a problem. It has the same problem western society at large suffers from. It is the problem of social justice warriors. There is nothing they will not say, no lie so heinous, no claim so incredible, in order to shame, bully, harass, threaten and dox normal, ordinary, decent human beings until they become wholly subservient to a sick, totalitarian ideology that preaches racism, hatred, anti-democracy and death. They have shown, time and time again, that they are not amendable, indeed, wholly immune, to reason. They have shown that they are not ammendable, indeed, wholly contemptuous, of facts and reality. They have shown they will not let people live their lives in peaceful disagreement or mutual understanding and respect. They belittle and shame and harangue constantly, for to stop for a mere moment of introspection would reveal to them the blackened tar that is their lives.
There can be no peace with such creatures. There can be no respite until they have been cordoned off from the body of civilisation, belittled, villified, condemned, discredited and left free to wallow in their sickness and delusion in the darkness where they so righteously belong. If we are to endure, they must falter, or gaming, and civilisation as a whole, must be destroyed. I speak of course, of Native American Gamer Terrorists.
Gaming has a Native American Terrorist Problem; A heartrending nonracist tale of abuse and personal tragedy by PrinceofNothing (Patreon Account in Link Below!)
It is time to make a very poignant announcement. I am giving up gaming. I used to use the force with my vulcan jedi and fight the dwarves in Dark Heresy. I used to ride in my broomstick with Harry Potter and Frodo, defeated small-brained women into dust with my knitting prowess and do those other things that gamers do because I am a gamer.
I cannot do it anymore.
Since July of 2015 Native American Fans of the game Cartoon Action Hour have been attempting to overwhelm me with rape- and deaththreats. Nary a day goes by when I do not look out of a window and see the blackened clouds of their signal fires, calling for my scalp. Spectrum Games is silent on this matter and hangs up whenever I get some time off from tumblr and call them in my most shrieking and nasally voice, screaming like a lunatic. Given the fact I have analysed the smoke with a team of climatologists and they unanimously concluded it came from a rare species of deciduous conifer that only grows in the garden of the CEO of Spectrum Games, himself a native american, the culprit is glaringly obvious. I have since sent the smoke signals to the CIA and any institution with a mail box, but given that I am white, I am not suprised no one has responded to my claims.
But that’s not what this article is about.
This is not the first time I have been raped by Native Americans. Nor is it the 50th or the 1000th. Every time I try to go out and speak up on this important topic, people look at me as though I were quite clearly mad and call me a racist and then I get raped again by Native Americans. The Oxford dictionary defines Racism as: “Prejudice, discrimination, or antagonism directed against someone of a different race based on the belief that one’s own race is superior.”
Astute readers will note that there is no provision for Native Americans that rape you, even though based on dubious if not outright fraudulent studies funded by myself and the small cabal of race-baiting lunatics I consort with, I have calculated that Native Americans rape about 9 million white people a day. As we all know, rape happens to white males exclusively, and thus it is a very serious affair indeed.
I am 13 years old and on my way to a game store. My bag is filled with firewater and mirrors. Inside, a Native American, feathered headdress blotting out the counter and war paint proudly displayed upon his red face, stares at me with lust in his savage eyes. In the back, several Native Americans are dancing around a fire and practicing archery and also gaming because this is about gaming.
“HAAAOOW old are you?,” he barks.
“Sixty-Nine,” I say, for it is my favourite number for some reason.
“White Man Talks with Cleft Tongue!,” he says, and the rest begins hooting and chanting until I flee the store. When I come home, my firewater and mirrors are gone. As I looked around, a Native American raped me. Damnit.
Make no mistake that this is terrorism. Native Americans have a vested interest in raping me. Because of their excellent bushcraft skills, law enforcement is ill-equipped to handle them, for at the merest hint of a siren they will dissapear like ghosts into the underbrush, leaving behind no trace of themselves. When combined with the prevalent racism towards white people, Native Americans have free reign to rape me in our society.
I am at Cartoon Action Hour Con at the local Casino, waiting for a fellow white man to finish his game of Dark Continent. A Native American friend appears behind me suddenly, offering me a peace pipe. I take it and pass out, travelling along the heavens with Coyote on a grand vision quest. As I wake up, I am raped by several hundred Cherokee Indians. My scalp is missing. Still receiving visions of Sky-Bison, I go outside, the Native Americans momentarily forgetting that they could easily stop me since I am drugged and it would be ludicrously easy to prove their guilt. The Con supervisor, Hiawatta, laughs at me and strokes the feathers of his headdress as I recount my tale of suffering.
“Ho Ho Ho Ho Paleface. We have reputation to protect that does not need protecting since everyone biased for Native Americans. If you call police we say you are never here, despite several dozen witnesses making that claim ludicrously easy to disprove.”
I nod numbly. I think I am crying and also pooping my pants. I stumble into a kayak in the river and sob until I can’t breathe. When I am calm, I call the police and report the attack.
When I report the incident to the police, he smirks at me through the telephone. “Ho Ho Ho Paleface. Do you not understand we own this world?” I could have found a non-native american police officer or gone to the press, but all the police officers in my country are Native Americans.
He is right. As I navigate several rapids and also a waterfall, I am accosted by several Native Americans riding bears. They rape me yet again and then they make fun of my hair. When will this end?
Still tearful from my rape at the hands of Native Americans, I go to the Supermarket to get some milk. As I brose the aisle, I notice several feathers poking over the rows of yoghurt and milk. A tomahawk embeds itself in a nearby pack of vanilla yoghurt. Several Native Americans rape me and also the yoghurt and the supermarket attendees, feathering any who resist with arrows.
I have no more tears, for the Native Americans have stolen them.
What is so shocking is that I am invisible. I have a blog, write about my hobbies, but I cannot do so in perfect safety. I am the only one in the world that is being systematically targeted by Native Americans. Why won’t anyone help? As I type this sentence, I have been raped several times by Native Americans that dissolve into smoke as the police arrive but they won’t because they are totally working together.
It is 2012. I report my billions of Native American rapes to the police, finally, not a Native American. I totally win the case but he looks at me for a moment, and I see that he is a white man and can therefore be trusted.
“Why do you do it Prince? Why do you involve yourself with those barbaric Native Americans? Everyone knows they cannot be trusted and they rape white people.”
I choke up, struggling to breathe, my anus a ruined orifice that could accomodate a small navy vessel.
“I guess I just love Cartoon Action Hour so damn much.”
“You gotta get off the hobby kid,” he says not unkindly, “or you are going to die even though statistically that is a ludicrously unlikely occurence and I have no facts to back this up.”
“Why would you bring up the fact your advice is bullshit?,” I ask, somewhat concerned.
He gives a small grin. As he grins, several Native Amerians drop down from the ceiling and rape me. Curses and Vexation!
We can only stop Native Americans by submitting to my Will. Anything I say must be treated as literal gospel. If I ask you to drink something, you must drink it, even if it makes your eyes water and it reeks of ethanol. You must be willing to tear down Mount Everest with your bare hands at my whim and devour newborn babes after you have robbed them from their cradles. Anything I want, you must provide. If you question for but a moment, you are guilty of all these millions of rapes. I am the Voice that drowns out all Others. I am the Thousandfold Thought.
It is 2021. I work at a miniature store with my native american co-worker. An opressed trans-gendered minority walks in.
“Do you have models of space marines or maybe lizardmen that look like me which is an entirely reasonable and not at all fabricated question?”
The Native American puts on a white KKK robe and begins peppering the minority with watermelons and swastikas.
Xe never returns.
Do you feel uncomfortable? Weak? Angry? Dissapointed at the choices of life? Resentful? I can heal your aggrieved conscience. I can make you feel like you are just and righteous. But only for a time. Only for a time. And then you must find a new foe. I am the water that will sweep away all that has gone before. You need but submit. Utterly. Totally. I am the King in Rags and Tatters. I am the Final Prince. I am the Circular War. I am the Worm that Devours Its Own Tail.
It is 2010 and a young white man with a checkered suit, a top hat and a guitar case is talking to me about the comparative merits of Dark Continent vs other colonial games that use humanoids as a stand in for minorities. I tell him we have drop in games and invent a fictional anecdote about racism to pass the time.
“HAI! PALEFACE SPEAKS WITH CLIPPED PALETTE.YO-HA-HANAH YO-HA-HANAH,” say the Native Americans.
I apologise but he has already fled. As he dissapears into the distance, the Native Americans start raindancing and conjure up a storm so his guitar gets all wet. I cry a single tear.
I try to report it to the owner, but he turns out to be six Native Americans that rape me and also kick a puppy and make fun of cripples.
It will never end, until we rise up and submit to my demands.
I am a Lie. You cannot believe I am real. You can fool yourself only for a time. But you keep trying to wake up. You are too sane. You must drown out your misgivings in battle eternal. You must cast off reason. I will maim you. I will make you so I become Real. In your anguish you will only hate more and more desperately. I am a Lie. But You cannot Wake up. You can Never Wake Up.
Disclaimer (and this is the only fucking time): It goes without saying that racism and rape are serious issues and nothing does more damage then co-opting them to further a sick, dyscivic, fraudulent, racist, misandrist and false narrative meant to divide and destroy. And doing so does a lot more damage to actual victims (of ALL and I mean ALL no exceptions Races, Genders(m/f) and orientations) then a fucking stupid story about native americans raping people. Fuck you if you cannot take a joke. A pox on the cynical idiot who concocted this attention-seeking bullshit and the willing sheep and useful idiots that support her.
UPDATE: Therpgsite seems to be the only place that is actually looking into things. Hollah at you boys. Shit starts at page 10, the rest is more eye-rolling gender representation song and dance. Can you imagine if fucking Warhammer 40k gave a shit? Man that would suck.
Original contact with an obvious social justice entry-ist named Ferossa, suggested to be the same person. Its always the same fucking song and dance routine. “We want to join but your customs are hurtful to us and therefore you need to adapt to US. Why are there no more female models. Bwaaaaaaaaah!”
Begins a shouting match when her psychotic hatred of men becomes obvious through a casual off-hand remark. Wyrd miniatures pays for is inclusion by hovering perilously close to the SocJus Event horizon. Sorry Wyrd, you can have a succesful company that is really into satisfying its customer base or a very much less succesful company that is really into promoting social justice, not both, because SJW customers only have loyalty to social justice.
Still, props to that Nathan guy for showing some spine when neccesary. Already evidence of serious modding/SJW infestation. The entire thread is riven with it and as you can see it disrupts organised civil conversation and debate, like it is designed to do.
Choice pickings (entire thread is infested not just this one person, converge and die or resist and root out Wyrd, not much choice unfortunately):
Infection Level Omega-: Clearly it is our duty as a company that makes tiny metallic figurines used by man-children to promote Social Justice.
“Absolutely we as individuals need to confront negative behaviors in the real world, but pretending like the cultural baseline set by the games we play, the music we listen to, and the films we watch doesn’t matter is frankly ludicrous. We aren’t asking Wyrd to “fix” sexism, or prevent threats to any individual by any other individual, that’s way beyond the scope of the conversation, and beyond any reasonable expectation of Wyrd’s influence.
Wyrd can, however, effect the cultural baseline by including more non-sexualized women, non-white, and/or queer characters on the table and in the world. As I and Edonil (and others) have said, this change can and should be an easy one to make but it can have a profound (positive) effect on the community that the game attracts.”
Infection Level Omega: Why are we not taking vague and unspecified action based on hearsay of events that transpired elsewhere? More identity politics.
“1) White men are OK to make villains because there are enough white males present so that they aren’t shown exclusively as villains. If you have large enough representation, then one character won’t pop out as much. 1/20 white guys being negative is not the same as 1/2 black women being negative.
2) Stop blaming Ferossa and her community. It’s not just her. It’s not just her gaming group. I also have seen it everywhere I go across the US. I’ve heard women and non-whites all saying the same things. Why are we ignoring all of their voices when we claim we are a loving community who welcome anyone who wants to share our hobby? Why are we shutting their voices out?”
The only defensible position:
“This debate is very simple for me.
Wyrd makes products that I enjoy, and I’d like to continue to give them money in exchange for items that bring me a lot of happiness. When they produce a model that I like, I’ll but it, and when they produce ones I don’t like, I won’t buy them. The gender of models makes no difference in whether I like the sculpt or not.
Therefore, I trust Nathan to make the correct decisions to expand his business. If Wyrd’s business model is to have an exactly equal number of models of every gender, ethnicity, sexual orientation, etc. that’s fine, and if they decide to continue with what they’re doing, that’s fine too. Basically I want them to make the choice that makes the best financial sense that makes them the most money so that they can continue to produce the products that they do.”
Clearly I am interested in wargame discussion and not a social justice colonizer(1):
“It’s discouraging to see an owner of the company repeatedly dismiss reports of harassment and sexism within the Malifaux community, especially when they come from someone who is trying to start the game. You have a new customer post to explain how the sexualised models give the player base license to make sexualised comments about women, which makes the poster uncomfortable participating in the hobby or inviting their friends. How many customers (and sales!) do you need to dismiss before you accept that this is a problem?
I don’t think I’ve seen anyone dismiss a new player as quickly as Nathan did. “Just be tougher” is not real advice.
I think other posters have done a very good job of explaining how the appearance of the characters sets the standard for fandom behaviour. Malifaux is a well-written setting with deep, representative characters. The longer the owners fight against expanding it, the more they make those deep and enriching themes look accidental.”
Clearly I am interested in wargame discussion and not a social justice colonizer (2):
“Breasts aren’t sexual unless a woman has given you consent to sexualise her. Breasts are not consent for sexualisation.
S’why you can’t call men babies. Babies know what breasts are actually for.”
Clearly I am interested in wargame discussion and not a social justice colonizer (3):
“It’s not a blanket statement when it happens in every city, in every community when I try to wargame. I have never participated in wargaming without receiving harassment and abuse, and other women and men have posted with their experiences. Wargaming, and nerd culture overall, has a problem with women. That problem is evidenced by the player attitudes towards sexualised female models, and the more sexualised female models there are in the game, the more sexual harassment female players receive.
When you don’t make women a part of your everyday setting (minion boxes), you send the message that women are not part of everyday Malifaux. Malifaux already sends the message that POC are strange anomalies, which is what happens when you have four black characters and two of them are “mystical”. Wyrd has a responsibility to pay attention to the themes and subtext they include in the game.
You don’t get to make a game based around narrative dynamics and then complain when players examine that narrative.
Finally, if you find yourself in the position of having to ban or fire a henchman for harassment, that’s something I would like to know about. It doesn’t make Wyrd look bad because they had an issue, it makes them look like a responsible company who cares about their community. The only people who will be scared off by that knowledge that the community ousts people are people likely to be ousted. Knowing that players have some recourse for bad henchmen or toxic groups is relieving and shows Wyrd cares about the community. Adding a feedback option for local play would be really cool.”
The Derail/Attention grab
“To whomever decided to respond by hunting down my personal e-mail and mailing me a bunch of illegal porn, I reported you to the authorities and I hope they SWAT you.
I’m now 3/3 wargame communities where I have experienced direct, targeted harassment aimed at driving women out of the hobby. Are we going to accept that there’s a problem?”
Notice everyone handling this with about as much sympathy as can be expected, some people politely ignoring it to keep on discussing wargaming, which is what this thread is actually for. At this point it is unclear if the porn was actually mailed (I suspect a lie, like the rest), but everyone just takes it at face value.
As can be observed, the presence of just a few social justice warriors has a corrosive and polarising effect on the atmosphere and the discussion. One does well to identify them when one spots them and to root them out as quickly as possible if one wishes to maintain a community that does something other then promote social justice. If one wishes to promote social justice without actually doing anything meaningful then I of course heartily recommend keeping social justice warriors within the community, only a few in the right position of power and a code of conduct should ensure that within no time, most of your community will be social justice warriors!
I wish Wyrd good luck and good hunting but goddamn have you got the wrong fanbase for this kind of fight.