In his work the Everlasting Man, G. K. Chesterton argues that man is not simply a specialized animal, but rather a unique and special element of God's creation. Although his prose are beautiful, but his logic is fatally flawed.

The basis of Chesterton's claims lies in his interpretation of man's inherent desire to create art. He claims that Man is the only entity known to create Art; thus, he is far more than an animal, an uneducated brute. Man's Artistic Intent forms the foundation for the arguments Chesterton present during the rest of his work, culminating in the conclusion that Jesus Christ could have been nothing other than the true-born Son of God. But alas, Chesterton's arguments crumble like a Grecian temple amidst the passing of time.

My counter-argument is quite simple: Elephants. It is a solid fact that Elephants can and do paint. Painting produced by these Elephants are often sold in order to raise funds for various conservation groups. So, immediately we come upon an example of yet another creature that can, at the very least, paint. Scientific fact proves wrong Chesterton's basic assumption, and any logical construct founded on wrong assumptions is also wrong.

But now we must really dig into the meat of the issue. Chesterton did NOT claim that Man alone can paint, but that Man alone can create Art; and, herein lies the rub. What constitutes Art?

Can we really classify an Elephant's trained chicken-scratches as art? How can we know that the Elephant possesses no creativity?

Now that it has been shown that Animals can also create, Chesterton's arguments rely on making and proving distinctions between those respective creations of Men and Animals.

One of my gaming groups recently had a bit of a TPK, the fallout from which led to an interesting discussion regarding  some epistemology between myself and my Game Master.

My lines are illustrated in Blue, while his are in Red.

 

So Role playing has a really unusual dynamic when it comes to Player and Character knowledge.

 

The idea is that there is a vast set of things that a Player *cannot* know, but that a Character *must*.

Examples: If I'm playing a Forest-type Ranger, it *must* be assumed that the Ranger knows how to clean and prepare a deer, while Blue has trouble opening cans. A Magic-User has a grasp of how magic *works* that Blue can't have. A Fighter can use a sword to defend himself, while the most Blue knows is that the pointy end goes in the *other* guy.

 

These are basic examples, and may seem fairly obvious. But if we extrapolate to the rest of the campaign world we see that there are fundamental aspects about the Game World that a Player can't know, but that a Character would. We get to things like the name of the local Sherriff to the names of specific flowers.

This might seem obvious and reasonable thus far, but here's where it gets tricky.

*It is impossible for the Player to know that he doesn't know.*

 

We boil it down to this

There are two kinds of ignorance.

A) Primary Ignorance is when someone doesn't know something; but, he knows that he doesn't know. For instance, I know I can't clean a deer, but I know someone else does. I know it can be done, and I just have to find a way to learn.

B) Secondary Ignorance comes when a person doesn't know that he doesn't know. For instance, an Amazonian tribesman has no inkling of what Quantum Mechanics is, so it doesn't even occur to him to ask about it.

 

The Player's knowledge of what his Character knows falls into the latter category.

As a Player, I have no idea how the Game World works, born as it is from the deepest, dankest recesses of a mind so nightmarishly twisted and vile, fueled on the soulless soda-husks of diet mountain dew and and dessicated corpses of stale Cheetos (i.e. the GM thinks it up).

So the Player is forced into a state of imposed pseudo-ignorance, knowing that he doesn't know a thing, but not knowing what that thing is, left ever-grasp at the gray edges of his consciousness.

This is just something that I've been pondering over the last year.

Its a problem that simply can't be avoided, and it's literally only one of two things that can rub me the wrong way about GMing.

Side Note:
The other thing is actually what Red was mentioning about the oil flasks as grenades. When the players can get away with completely stupid stuff, it takes away a critical sense of consequence. But that's another discussion.

But issues that fall into the domain of this Knowledge Gap always irk me. It's really the only thing that bugged me when Steve or our freind Mike GM-ed. It bugs me more when I do it.  But it literally cannot be avoided. It persists.

And whats weird is that the more in-depth a GM makes their world, the more he prepares, the worae the problem becomes. A rigid game world creates rigid world-physics (i guess ill call it that), which makes the problems more apparent and blatant. So the "better" a GM is, the more he faces this challenge.

Its a problem endemic to roleplaying, not any one person

 

Generally, I find discussions about epistemology as frustrating as I find discussions about physics. When they involve epistemology or physics within the context of gaming, I have even less interest. 

Sorry I'm not going to be any help here.

Biblical Truthiness

One of the tenants of Christianity that causes quite a bit of fuss is the assertion that the Bible represent the literal Word of God. This tenant of the faith never fails to stir up men's emotions, causing harsh and even bitter arguments, even among the truest of friends. While I have come to understand the positions of those on both sides of the issue, I've reached a point in my life at which I can confidently say that I just don't care.

My position, one that I believe to be unique amongst both the Faithful and the Godless, is that the question of whether or not the Bible comes unadulterated from the word of the Almighty is moot. It simply has no practical implications for me. and my reasoning is quite simple: It's because I've READ the Bible.

I know what's good about the Good Book; and to be utterly fair, it really is good. The message carried by the New Testament: one of Faith, Hope and Love (I usually ignore Leviticus) is one so profound that I think it speaks for itself. I think the words stand on their own.

I don't think the Bible needs the additional credibility associated with Divine Mandate. The lessons learned from it's parables carry no more weight when narrated by the Angels than by a Jewish carpenter who never went to work. It makes absolutely no difference to me. I don't agree with the Bible because of Heavenly Writ, I agree with the Bible because I think it's right: an opinion utterly unaffected by it's origin.

I treat the Bible as a useful moral and philosophical tool, providing insight in moments when I find myself sucked into a the depths of a moral quagmire. I don't care if I buy a hammer from Home Depot or Lowe's. I care if the hammer helps me build a fence. By the same logic, I don't care with from whence the Bible comes. It's there. It's useful. I'll use it.

If the issue of it's authorship is really so crucial to your Faith, then by all means continue the arguments; but I'm going to grab a beer, I've got a fence to finish.

I recently gave a speech at a memorial for Howard Terry, the founder of the Terry Foundation, which provides scholarships for students to attend Texas Public Universities:

My name is Charles Cliff.
Some of you may know me. Some of you may simply know of me. Some of you may be surprised that I am speaking to you today; I confess I'm a bit surprised myself.
When Blythe asked me to speak on behalf of the Terry Scholar Alumni, I set ut to collect my thoughts and compose an epitaph to honour Howard Terry.

But, to be honest, I found this extremely difficult. I met Howard Terry only in short, sparse encounters. I cannot honestly say that I knew the man; and, I have never been entirely comfortable speaking on subjects with which I am so unfamiliar.

So I found myself doing something I had not done in several years: I opened my Bible.

And in Mathew, I found something not entirely unlike an answer.

This particular verse says: "Thus you will know them by their fruits".

Reading this, I realized that perhaps I knew Howard Terry better than I thought. If I wish to know Howard Terry, I need only look to the young men and women here today.

Because I know Chris Moore, I know Howard was hard-working.
Because I know Alexandra Wilson, I know Howard was kind.
Because I know Tania Foster, I know Howard was a bit bossy.

But above all these things, I know Howard was immensely proud of each of you, because I am proud of you.

I have seen each of you grow into bright and strong men and women. The works that you have done leave a testament that can never be over-written.

Howard Terry's memorial will extend beyond this one day to the rest of ours.

Howard Terry will be known through the lives you scholars choose to lead.

The Things we do will continue to etch his story into the pages of history.

My friends, let's make that story a good one.