Martin boards the Time Machine
Ooh, the flightcase, good choice, the scientists mutter as they crank up the time machine. The gargantuan truffle funnel rattles ominously as a blue light fills the room. There is the sound of infinite things being torn apart, and a small, white crack in the fabric of reality appears before you. Clutching the flightcase, the medi-kit and the parleur you step through the shimmering vortex…
It is dark around you, except for the strips of light on both sides. You are standing on what appears to be a runway in the middle of the jungle. But it is not a real runway: As you turn around you notice that the lights are only primitive torches stuck in the mud, and the airplane in the bamboo hangar behind you seems to be made of straw and wire. What kind of strange mockery is this?
A half naked savage comes walking toward you, out of the rickety control tower, wearing a headset fashioned from a coconut. He speaks to you, repeating the same phrase over and over again. You reach for the Parleur, but then you suddenly understand what he is saying. He is chanting in some sort of warped English: Roger, out, roger, out, roger, out…
Now you understand. You have come to Papua New Guinea by the end of World War II, and you have stumbled upon a sacred ritual of one of the Cargo Cults. These cults, scattered all over the region, had existed since roughly the 1850’s but they were brought to their peak by the war in the pacific.
There had long been the sightings of ships and airplanes, but now there were paratroopers and air supply drops as well, first by the Japanese, then by the Americans. This contact with western civilization, especially all the nice goods from misdirected supply drops, led to the construction of elaborate belief systems among the locals: Tribal ancestors were the source of the material possessions, the Cargo, that were now controlled by the whites. To mollify the ancestors and redirect the flow of Cargo to the rightful recipients, rituals had to be performed.
These rituals included ceasing all productive work, destroying crops and killing pigs to demonstrate a sincere belief in the imminent arrival of Cargo. But many places, there was also the ritualistic enactment of "white" behaviour to trick the airplanes into dropping Cargo. This is what you have encountered.
The tribes of the region speak many, many different languages, not all of them documented. If you are lucky, you may find help in the Parleur. To survive on these hostile islands, you clearly need help. You might be able to pass yourself off as a Cargo God, using the artifacts from the Flightcase and the Medi-kit to trick the natives. Unfortunately, many of the local tribes are convinced cannibals, so you’ll have to think fast.
Good luck!
It is dark around you, except for the strips of light on both sides. You are standing on what appears to be a runway in the middle of the jungle. But it is not a real runway: As you turn around you notice that the lights are only primitive torches stuck in the mud, and the airplane in the bamboo hangar behind you seems to be made of straw and wire. What kind of strange mockery is this?
A half naked savage comes walking toward you, out of the rickety control tower, wearing a headset fashioned from a coconut. He speaks to you, repeating the same phrase over and over again. You reach for the Parleur, but then you suddenly understand what he is saying. He is chanting in some sort of warped English: Roger, out, roger, out, roger, out…
Now you understand. You have come to Papua New Guinea by the end of World War II, and you have stumbled upon a sacred ritual of one of the Cargo Cults. These cults, scattered all over the region, had existed since roughly the 1850’s but they were brought to their peak by the war in the pacific.
There had long been the sightings of ships and airplanes, but now there were paratroopers and air supply drops as well, first by the Japanese, then by the Americans. This contact with western civilization, especially all the nice goods from misdirected supply drops, led to the construction of elaborate belief systems among the locals: Tribal ancestors were the source of the material possessions, the Cargo, that were now controlled by the whites. To mollify the ancestors and redirect the flow of Cargo to the rightful recipients, rituals had to be performed.
These rituals included ceasing all productive work, destroying crops and killing pigs to demonstrate a sincere belief in the imminent arrival of Cargo. But many places, there was also the ritualistic enactment of "white" behaviour to trick the airplanes into dropping Cargo. This is what you have encountered.
The tribes of the region speak many, many different languages, not all of them documented. If you are lucky, you may find help in the Parleur. To survive on these hostile islands, you clearly need help. You might be able to pass yourself off as a Cargo God, using the artifacts from the Flightcase and the Medi-kit to trick the natives. Unfortunately, many of the local tribes are convinced cannibals, so you’ll have to think fast.
Good luck!
posted by Mikkel at 10:06 AM
10 Comments:
This reminds me of the "you-are-the-main-character"-books I used to take from your room.
The reason those books sucked, by the way, is that you'd make choices, like "I want to try crossing the bog, because it's probably faster than going around." And you turn to the appropriate page, and it says "you slip into the mud and die a horrible death. Your adventure is over." And you're left with: "wow, thanks. I really learned a valuable lesson, there."
Your way is better. ;) I'd actually heard about cargo cults before, but didn't realise what was referred to.
Funny you should mention those books. I'll teel you why later.
The reason why you've heard about cargo cults, is that Richard Feynman talked about it in a lecture once, as a metaphor for a pseudo-science which has all the trappings of a real science. It has become sort of a buzz word for any kind of weird materialism. But the real thing is way cooler, don't you think?
I do, indeed.
Richard Feynman. It rings a bell...
I've looked him up in Wikipedia, but can't find out why I should know this guy.
The name sounds incredibly familiar. Maybe he was quoted in something I've read often? Do you know where I got the name from?
I remember those books! And yeah, they were crap - after dying horribly and unpredictably a couple of times, you would inevitably just backtrack to the last post instead of retreading your step all the way from the beginning, defeating the whole purpose of the game in the process. Fortunately, my Amiga came back from the shop quickly.
The best thing about those books were their corny titles, such as: "Escape from the sorcerers mountain". Great stuff!
"The adventure of the magical masks" is the one I remember best.
or something like that, right?
I remember one with a castle in the desert, and another with an ice fortress. Apart from variations in climate, though, I think they were all pretty much the same.
I seem to remember the name of the series being Terrors and Treasures, or some other uninspired, fantasy-themed alliteration.
Sword & Sorcery?
Dungeons and Dragons?
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