Monday, January 23, 2012

Email From Thaddeus

Christie here. Thaddeus just emailed us. Considering how obvious the email address for this Blogger account is, I guess it wouldn't be that hard to guess. The guy is clearly crazy, but it's a lucid kind of crazy, so at least we don't have to sift through a bunch of gibberish, even if there isn't much meaning here beyond cryptic pseudo-informative bullshit.

Thought I'd copy-paste the message here. Enjoy.

You’ve heard of the Great Game, haven’t you? I know you have. You’ve read all the accounts out there. “We are the pieces”. “embracethearchangel”. “never alone again”. Everything.

But you don’t really know very much. You can’t know very much, because you’re one of the pieces. You look at the things you think are the players, and you think you understand. You think you grasp some small piece of it, because you put a label on it and you pretend that the analogy of a game is accurate.

It’s not. Nothing we could ever describe in English could ever even begin to approximate what the Fears are, or what they’re doing, or what the Game is. Nothing we could ever comprehend in anything even approaching sane, rational human thoughts could come close. But it’s handy to think about. It lets us feel like we understand it, even if it is completely wrong. It lets us keep from going entirely bonkers.

You call me an altar boy, Waterman, but you’re wrong. I was, once. No longer. But while I was, I saw a little bit of what things are really like. I looked up off the board and saw what was stretching away above us. And I got a little bit of a glimpse of what’s really going on.

You don’t understand the Archangel when you say it’s “the afterlife”. You don’t understand the Slender Man when you say he kills people and sticks their bodies in the woods. You don’t understand the Rake when you look at it and see this little white-skinned goblin with foot-long claws and teeth that would scare a great white. You don’t understand the Blind Man when you call him the Grandfather, or even when you look a little closer and see the howling abyss of nothingness underneath. You don’t know anything about what they are. You don’t know anything about what they want. You don’t even know which of them are the same thing wearing different masks and which of them are really different things. You don’t even understand why it might not matter which is which, or even if there’s a real difference between them, or how woefully inept the idea of a “game” with “rules” and “players” and “pieces” is.

Because you can’t know. No one like you can ever know. Not without making you like me. I can see. I can only see a little piece of it all. I don’t know everything. But I can still SEE. I can see a lot more than you ever could.

You have no idea what’s really going on. I do.

You don’t know who or what the players are. I do.

You don’t know what happens when a new player joins. I do.

You don’t know what happens when one of them gets upset and flips the table.


I can show you, if you like.

So that's Thaddeus, for those of you that were curious. Balls-out crazy and even he admits it. Plus he apparently gets his jollies from cryptic emails that really don't tell us jack shit.

Bedtime. Out of here in the morning. Even if the guy can keep sending us pretentious bullshit messages no matter where we go, we can at least keep moving so we don't have to deal with his insanity in person.


  1. ...Yeah, speaking as someone with access to over a century's worth of information, I'd say I've got a pretty good grasp of all the important bits.


    1. As much as I hate to side with the crazy (ex?-)altar boy, I don't think you know as much as you think you do.
      - Christie