True & Honest Fan
The Fall of the Geek Empire
There once was an empire, a beautiful empire. It had a hold on nearly every corner of the civilized world, and it showed no sign of weakening. Not only was it an economic powerhouse, the rest of the world would soon come to depend on it, and upon the skills of its people. This was the Geek Empire - a gathering of all geeks, nerds, techies, and so forth - a technological wonder that would define a millennium. The internet became the hub of communication, and it was good. Every form of media became digitized, and it was good. Intellectuals became idols, and it was good.
But it was all too good to last.
When the mainstream spilled upon the once sacred technological empire, it began an era of decadence and the inevitable decline. Strange social hierarchies built around the internet's instantaneous nature. Citizens became connected to one another not by common goal or intellectual interest, but by flimsy, superficial pleasure and false banners. How very Brave New World. As geekdom became increasingly popular, the defenses were lowered. The lines between the virtual and the physical became blurred. And it was no longer required of nerds to be smart. And the true nerds wept.
Generation Y, I am pointing at you. You were either not born when the empire rose to power, or were too occupied by football with Daddy or watching Mommy disappear into the limo to meet her "special friends." Either way, you do not know that geekdom didn't just fall out of the sky, ready to be played with by just anyone. But being the kind, open-minded people we were, we welcomed you into our ranks, letting you glob together across your Yahoo and your AOL and eventually... yes, 4chan. After all, we believed in freedom, sometimes bordering on the anarchic. You kept to your circles, and we kept to ours while still aiding yours. We would be friends, and would share the same bounty. There was no way of restricting it anyway without breaking our own unspoken Constitution.
Years passed by, and I began to regret that we ever made such a decision. As many of you were children when you first became citizens of our empire, you grew up to become rather obsessed with remembering that time. Rather than wanting to further the empire's goals, you began to chatter away about toys and games and even children's books (damn Harry Potter!). It became clear to me - nostalgia is the new opiate. Geek was no longer an intellectual, but a frivolous child-at-heart lost in their own little world. Just like a hippie. Internet culture does little to separate Geek Type Alpha from Geek Type Beta. When Alphas take on more Beta-like characteristics, the lines are even further blurred. Are you sick yet?
If you do not believe me, I invite you to examine such sites as My Life Is Average. It began as a silly parody of the more infamous F My Life, for people who live very average lives (i.e., people who spend an awful amount of time in front of a computer screen). A website parodying another website, hmm, seems appealing enough to geek culture. But when you examine it... dead gods! Harry Potter and Star Wars and ninjas and dinosaurs galore! Dress-up games and candy and superheroes! Parents who love the same! And how the masses gobble it up! One wonders whether Generation Y ever entered puberty. If I were a better philosopher, I would try examining the changing definitions of "adulthood" and what it all means, but for Cthulhu's sake I haven't even graduated high school.
It's rather funny, actually. Some Nazis theorize that the fall of the Roman Empire was caused in part by racial "dilution" of its rulers. As a Basement Trooper is always a Nazi's best friend, I cannot help but wonder what this principle means for the Geek Empire. Does the new dilution spell the end, or simply a new era? Can the old days regenerate themselves? And, most importantly, will nerds ever be smart again? Only time will tell.
This reads like bad Warhammer 40,000 fan fiction.5. So, Lindsay. Randomly googling her DA page wound up on this "post your favorite doll of the previous poster" thread on pixel-glam.com. Her username: "HackerOnHacker". This leads to a number of cringey places.
KnowYourMeme. Her username was "Hyperborea Odyssea Hackeron" and she links to her DA account on the forum. Impressive Ponyfag avatar. Nearly all of her contributions to KnowYourMeme had to do with notorious Black Metal murderer and arsonist Varg Vikernes, including uploading images like this one:
Varg and National Socialism in general had become a massive fixation for Lindsay by this point, which was also noted by her friends from the Random Insanity community (particularly her ubermensch status as an Asian):
(I didn't go through all of her posts on the RI forums, have at it.)
Cracked.com. Like millions of sad edgy teenagers everywhere, Lindsay was once a prolific poster at Cracked. Perhaps appropriately, this is where the Nazi fetishism boils over.
Puberty does strange things to some people, and it appears to have mindfucked Lindsay with a turgid penis of National Socialism.
Thread: Google What You Love. Lindsay googled "The Holocaust". More adorable fascist pixel dolls. More not so cute ones:
More edgy dreams of murdering minorities. More Varg Worship (it's gone now but her avatar was a "classic shot of Varg Vikernes, back in his church-burning days.")
And, uh, weird Nazi parallel universe fiction:
Wrote this a while ago. Part of this sort of 'universe' I'm working with, and have finally started to translate into actual story. If you're thinking "These characters sound like Nazis," it's because they are. Nazis. Concepts like that of Ultima Thule and the Hyperborean were lifted straight from Nazi mythology. This led to a rather interesting discussion when I put this through my fiction workshop.
When I grow up, I want to be a propagandist.
Only in the glorious Empire are duty and destiny so rightfully intertwined. All of life is battle, and every battle we fight upon this planet is fought in the name of the Emperor, who himself fights in the name of cosmic supremacy. But ours is not a war of profit, nor of politics - it is a manifestation of the Will, the spirit of conquest that flows as life-force through our veins. Emperor Svastikron himself is the very embodiment of that force. It is his own word that war has neither beginning nor end, but is an eternal force in the universe that humanity has the power to harness.
Yet there was a time when Emperor Svastikron was but a Dark Lord that war was thought to have ended. There was no Empire, only fractured nation-states clinging desperately to borders that were growing meaningless as each nation lost its identity. The subhumans found themselves able to infest once-proud civilizations, and bring the children of conquerors to their knees, all in the name of something they called "equality." We know that a world in which all are equal is one where all equal zero. Like the Emperor is the bridge between man and god, so the subhuman is the bridge between man and animal. How every night was filled with their incessant barking and mewling, whether they were crying to be fed or calling at potential mates. The government was required to provide both. The Will was all but abandoned. But what did it matter to these lesser men? It was a time of peace! Though a disgusting peace. For the lack of glory, the people turned to indulgence. Gold for gratification, gratification for gold! Is it any wonder that the fools and traitors have referred to that time as the "Golden Age?" Humanity remained in stasis, with the ignorant proletarians in a constant state of infancy, suckling from the shriveled teat of government.
But Svastikron was not one of them. No, he was always a man of honor and glory, he was born an Emperor. He had greater plans than anything that the government could offer him. He had dreams of war, and dreams of cosmic supremacy, but what's more, he despised the government! He despised their talk of peace and love, when society was crumbling to pieces. One day, he swore, he would tear everything down, even if he must do so with his teeth.
"I fear the end is nigh," he said, "If man is no longer fit to rule, then let this be where the reign of man ends." He looked out the window of his concrete tower, and saw a burning sky. The cosmos appeared to agree with him that day.
And it was with the ignition of the sky that a mysterious vigilante had begun a new crusade! The corpses of degenerates were found on the ends of hooks, swinging from lampposts, sliced so their foul blood would drain into the gutters to which they belong. Then came the bombs. Dens of depravity would be razed to the ground in great conflagrations, the likes of which were unseen since the previous war!
"Who is this anonymous hero?" wondered Svastikron to himself. "What sort of superman can hold on to the spirit of conquest in a time such as this?"
"A butcher," came the reply. There he stood in Svastikron's very window, disguised as an elite guardsman, with face shielded behind a dark helmet, and his body behind a cloak. He stood tall and muscular, the opposite of the dough-bodied proletarians. A foul smell emanated from his shape. The smell of decay, and burning flesh.
Svastikron marveled at the stranger who came from the dark. "Who are you? Why have you come to me?"
"I am the Butcher, and I have chosen you, Dark Lord, to deliver mankind from this age of degeneracy." His voice rumbled from deep within his chest, rolling across tortured vocal cords like a tank over a battlefield strewn with corpses.
"This tells me nothing! Reveal yourself, you scarecrow!"
"Lord Svastikron. At midnight, you will come to me where Death is king, in the darkest veins of the earth lined with the bones of the fallen. The ancient crypt. I will reveal myself there. For now, I must wash the blood from these hands." And so the Butcher took off into the darkness, leaving Svastikron to marvel even further.
"Very well then! I shall meet this Butcher, and see for what he has chosen me." It was then that Svastikron leaned out the window of his tower, to see two bodies splattered on the pavement, clutching guns. This Butcher never stopped his work, did he? But Svastikron did not have much time.
He encased himself in armor before heading into the ancient crypt, and carried his axe, as wary of death as a Dark Lord must be. Yes, this was the sacred crypt, the network of tunnels dug out over hundreds of years and supported by the very bones of our ancestors. That night, they were all watching Svastikron, knowing that the future of their descendents depended on him. All depend on Svastikron, such is life, and so such is death. "Butcher! Reveal yourself! It is I, your chosen!"
A shape emerged from behind a pillar of bones. It had the stature of the Butcher, without a doubt, but without a mask it must have been Death himself. The Butcher had no face. Strips of rotting flesh were attached to the exposed muscle, seemingly stapled on, giving some illusion of a hybrid of mask and face. Yet he had neither. He wore armor that was a strange parody of Svastikron's, made of dismembered corpses rather than metal. And like Svastikron, he carried an axe.
"So, Dark Lord. Shall I tell you now who I am?"
"You," said Svastikron. "You have no face."
"My face was my first sacrifice in the name of justice." His skin mask contorted in a way that almost resembled a smile.
"Even though we have the technology to restore it?"
"No need. Many have tried to give me a face. None have succeeded. Forever shall I be an invisible, faceless force of judgment."
"Very well then. What makes you call yourself a butcher?"
"Have you ever stood before the window of a butcher shop? The cuts of meat hang there, fresh. Fresh meat, pulled from the bones of fattened animals, to be fed to other fattened animals for the right price. The world has its sheep, its pigs, its chickens without heads. I see the public pushing itself towards the slaughterhouse like ignorant cattle. The illusion of choice is reduced to thus - feed from the trough, or become a cannibal. I see before me a world hungry for justice... but there is only meat. No, I decided I would not join the herd, for it so badly needed culling. I decided that I would be a butcher."
"Who were you then, before you became this Butcher?"
"No one. I was always so. Let the illusion end here - I am not one of the masses. I was not born, rather I rose from the viscera of fallen patriots."
"So you are not human."
"No one is any more."
"Why is it now that you come to us?"
"The time of man is coming to an end, is it not? The cosmos has no use for a stagnant humanity, and so, the sky burns! But I come to you, from the distant Ultima Thule, giving mankind a warning to redeem itself before it is too late."
"Ultima Thule is not merely a legend? The land of the supermen, the land of infinite power? I cannot believe it! I stand before a Hyperborean!"
"Yet Ultima Thule exists outside of your reality as you know it. In Ultima Thule, reality is meaningless. It is a universe unto itself."
"I do not understand."
"I did not expect you to. No human is prepared for Ultima Thule. Humans are too corrupt, too occupied with the worship of flesh to understand that there is an entire world beyond. Yet Ultima Thule is the answer to your burning sky, the chance of escape from a solar system that will one day surely die. When I say that the time of man will end, I also say that the time for greater man will begin. Dark Lord Svastikron, I trust that you will purge the filth from your kind, and through the fires of war create this greater man! As man has conquered earth, the greater man will conquer space and time. When the very laws of physics become as tools in your hands, then the greater men will become gods, and earn passage to Ultima Thule! You will be one with the cosmos."
"I accept my destiny as conqueror, dread Butcher! I will go forth and purify the human race. My war will not end so long as there are men left to fight! Let the lesser man fall, in the name of the greater man!"
"And that is why I have chosen you, Lord Svastikron! Of all the warriors left in the world, the spirit of conquest flows strongest through you."
"Warriors? I thought that they all had become extinct, or been absorbed into the masses."
"They are alive still, but hidden from sight. Imprisoned, and forced to do the work that the subhumans should be doing. They had dared to question the laws put forth by a government that would do anything to suppress the fire of the great warrior and the great thinker. The great thinker did not accept the versions of science and history that would benefit the subhuman, and thus, he was imprisoned. The great warrior, why, all he had done was look the subhuman in the eye and say 'I am a warrior!', and so, he too was imprisoned. And so the conquerors become slaves, all in the name of -"
"Equality. I know too well of my masters' evils. But I am fortunate enough to be a free man. Therefore, it is my duty to liberate my brothers... Butcher, might I make a request? You are a freer man than I, and can do things that a man with a face can not. Lay aside your pursuit of the criminal and the degenerate for only a short time, so you may direct your fire unto those who have imprisoned my kind. Do this, and I will fight at your side."
"For you, the savior of man, I will be sure to obey your every command."
"No. You will not follow me, for no superman is my servant. We fight together, as brothers in arms."
Dark Lord Svastikron led the bloodiest revolution in the history of mankind. Men with a thirst for glory, men who had long been rejected by the ignorant masses, men who we thought had become extinct eons ago, took up arms with Svastikron to purge society of those who are not worthy of being called human. When Svastikron took control of the nation, he declared himself a Dark Lord no more, but an Emperor, for then it was time to march across the earth and unite all of his noble kind under one banner. No longer would he stand to see his fellow warrior subjugated by the subhuman. The noble warriors would forsake all former allegiances, for the banner of the Empire was one that promised a greater purpose than gold, a greater purpose than flesh-worship.
"For the Empire! For the Emperor!" they cried, as the enemies of the greater man fell before them. They held within them the eternal force of war, so that the Emperor may fight eternally.
So question not why we fight, or why we kill. We are a race of warriors, the gate into the realm of gods, as the Emperor had made us.
Eternity Be Ours.
I'd just like to insert here as a service a reminder that this woman is extremely Asian. As in, her father was F.O.T.B. (and apparently very successful). And while it's not unprecedented, her fixation on the tenets of National Socialism (at least it's an ethos) were more about posting things like this in a "post your desktop" thread than anything ideological:
(At least until she tried to murder people.)
Her Cracked account is really a treasure trove of Nazi fetishism and teen angst, but I feel like we failed Lindsay in not directing her awesome talents at writing "pretend war speeches" toward the REAL Commander as the leading speechwriter for Deagle Nation:
Every so often, I'll find myself sitting at my computer, just typing things about war. A fictional war, without any canon that I know of. There's reference to an emperor, a revolution, a race of overmen, a Kommandar, a Dark Lord, a vigilante called the Butcher, but I still have no idea how it all fits together or why. I still don't know how much of the philosophies expressed within are "in character" and which are my own. It's incredibly confusing. As if I've tapped into an entire universe within myself and now it's bleeding everywhere and out through my fingertips.
But, without further ado, the monologues.
"We were placed upon this planet to be warriors, not bankers! Are these not the words of the emperor himself? Have you forgotten the year before our war? In consumption, we had consumed ourselves. When the masses cried, 'We need bread!' We looked down, and growled, 'Fight for it.' From then on, they would only come to us to cry for steel. Through the enemy, we gave them horror. We gave them death. We gave them glory.
"As the skies burn out, the time of man is coming to an end. We will not be the last men, no! The world must be inherited by our successors, who will become gods! That is why the emperor has bestowed us with the gift of superior genetics. We are the gate into the realm of gods. And that is why we must conquer."
"You new recruits are a shame to the entire empire! Blathering on about a golden age that never was! Yes, there was a time when there was peace. But a disgusting peace! A time when the masses, the villains and whores, would dredge through society's rot like maggots. They would trade their life-force for worthless fleeting indulgences, and their life-force was coin. Nothing more. Even their masters could not resist coin's decadence. No words would move their souls, for they had none. Thus it was only fortunate that the guns began to fire. Our war brought an end to their mockery of civilization. So coin's reign was overthrown by blood! The true life-force! And only the enemy's blood can bless us with the will to conquer. So that we die not as fools, but as heroes!
"And as you march on, soldier, leaving the ashes of that putrid world behind you, never forget – Pleasure is poison. Live to conquer, as we have conquered to live."
"And to believe you call yourselves patriots! Asking me, how many of our men need to die! There's only one question you should ask. How many of their men need to die, before we can reign supreme. We are not scholars, we are conquerors! Question not why we die, or why we kill. It is in our blood, as a nation of warriors!"
"Feel no guilt about slaying them, my comrades! They are a race of vermin! Scurrying about their land, full of resources that their primitive brains don't even know how to use. Their only power lies in their sheer numbers, as they breed like rodents! So let us reduce their numbers. Assert our supremacy in the universe. For we are men of conquest."
"It is pathetic what passes for 'rebellion' these days, Kommandar. To think that we would be intimidated by them waving around symbols of peace! So we will let them paint "LOVE" across the concrete. It will only be washed away with their blood. Their romantic little words bear no weight against our machine. They will see just how powerful their 'compassion' and 'tolerance' are when they are all put to the guillotine."
"Brothers in arms, I come bearing a message from the emperor! These are troubled times for our glorious empire. Though the revolution has brought the age of the overman, and though eternal war has proven us as supreme conquerors of the universe, a new threat has emerged from within our borders…
"Or should I say…
"Over our borders. We witness the birth of a plague, unlike any plague we have ever seen. It does not carry across the air, nor does it fester in fluids. No, it walks among us. The lesser beings will see them as human, but we brothers in arms know better. These are no humans, but half-formed parodies thereof! Look at how they spread their pestilence through the streets, how they bark and clamor in the night like animals! They seek to destroy us! They seek to destroy all that so many of us have fought and died for during the revolution! Oh, but they are deceptive in their ways… They know better than to face us in battle, knowing that the overmen fear no pain. So when they do not bark, they mewl and beg, hoping to infect the minds of the lesser beings, and eventually, ours.
"We must end this plague before it grows too great! We must annihilate it with our steel! Extirpate it with flames and cannon fire! My brothers in arms…
"The empire depends on you!"
"I do not fear the wrath of your goddess. No. I fear her disease... the malignant parasite that would manipulate you into worshiping her, yet never calling it worship! I fear the society where your brains are allowed to deteriorate into such a condition where you may actually need this harlot of a 'goddess!' I loathe all harlots and those who would worship them!"
"How ironic it is to demonize someone like me. Though my methods are unusual, they're nothing compared to the city's twisted morality. It doesn't take insanity to see the villains conspire and exploit society's cracking foundations, before covering the stain with their money. Why do I hunt and slaughter? Because evil's the only thing those whores understand. And you dare call me the criminal."
"Let me tell you something. I can beat up a robber. I can tangle with mobsters. I can shove their boss off a building if it comes down to it. But I cannot save the city. I cannot redeem the wretched amorality, the greed that breeds villains and whores like viruses. The 'hero' you see before you? Just weapons and a mask. When that mask comes off, I'm just some freak. And it's up to all of you to be the heroes for once."
"Many have tried to give me a face. None have succeeded. I am an invisible force of judgment. They are but the frightened masses, writhing in the rot of their lies, seeking one peon to blame for their precious 'society's' fall. They'd want to blame my carnage, my murder of their mutant gods. So when I became the Butcher, my first slaughter was actually… My face. My face. Look at what remains. Tell me what you see."
"The perfect world is the world where our empire reigns supreme, our race above all others. Our concrete fortresses and glimmering pyramids dominating every landscape as monuments to our conquest. For the entire earth had been trampled beneath our boots, so the emperor leads us into the virgin territories of the cosmos. No planet will remain untouched by our soldiers. Meanwhile on Earth, our scientists are beginning to unlock the secrets of the universe, so we not only conquer space, but also time. We will reshape the world so there will be not a second in history when we were not there with complete power over the universe. And from then?
"We would ascend.
"We would become gods."
I wonder where she met the young spergs that followed her.
Artard, any information on them?
This reads like bad Warhammer 40,000 fan fiction.
Too bad she got arrested, now she won't come here.
This is really good research, @Artard and @chimpchan. As more people start putting more of their lives online, it's increasingly possible to find very detailed background information on those who find themselves in the media spotlight.
It goes without saying that we (and sites like /cow/) have among our users some of the very finest and most experienced online researchers - certainly way out in front of the traditional media.
Personally, I think there's potential money (or at least pocket cash) in setting up some kind of Kiwi news agency/investigative service. I don't know how it would work, precisely, though...
Actually @KatsuKitty did the best job I ever saw when he quickly capped practically everything Elliot Rodger had written before bodybuilding.com and other sites could delete it. Dunno how we'd monetize it but hey...
Here's Lindsay Kantha Souvannarath's high school yearbook picture: