Cedric took his feet off the console and stretched his legs moving out of the bridge and down the lonely corridor. The bird was on her last leg though he hated to admit it. It bugged him to think after all the travels he had ventured with her, he was going to have to say goodbye. Tradition typically involved the crew saluting as she was set to be destroyed, but it had been months since he had even a skeleton to run the ship. He turned the corner and walked into the engine room where her heart was quietly purring still. Running his hand over the shell reminded him of a few close calls where that old and now obsolete engine saved his life getting out of a jam. The intercom squawked from the docking bay master informing Cedric deconstruction was ready to begin once he exits the ship. He sighed heavily with one last look of his old friend and started walking out. A few steps before he reached the ramp, however, his eyes spotted a flickering light in one of the side wall panels. It followed no pattern, and he never remembered ever seeing it lit up before. Curiously he opened the panel up and realized it was coming from the ship’s main analytical system, essentially the ship’s brain. It was an aftermarket chip he had installed himself to give the ship a sense of intelligence that recorded, calculated, and gave generalized suggestions to various occurrences. Although his next ship would not be compatible with the chip, he placed it into a small steel locket and hung it around his neck. The ship may soon be gone, but he knew she was close.
For some players in a role playing game, inanimate objects sometimes are personified by various ways such as unique situations or their level of value in service. It could be a sword that seems to make you roll very well when you absolutely need that Natural 20 or it could be a space ship that gets you out of a sticky situation when all hope is lost. Whatever the case may be, something gives life to what would otherwise be a lifeless item. They tend to become part of you, the family or the party. A rag doll that was given to the party by a little girl who they saved could become an iconic symbol for the party’s mission, but it could also become the group’s mascot even though it does little more than lay on the ground.
These things generally acquire the same personality and perspective towards it as a household pet. We view them as entities that can be expected to respond to situations or at least give us the perception to do so. A vehicle truly responds only when someone or something interacts with it, yet we often will thank the vehicle for getting us out of trouble. The actual machine gave us the opportunity to escape from danger, but it was not done from its own power or free will. This way of thinking comes from our natural thought process of human interaction. We generally feel that ordinary, non-living things cannot readily achieve the unthinkable. A rock cannot actually save our lives because it would do nothing unless it was put into use by someone. It may be in the right place at the right time to block something from hitting us, but the rock itself did not do anything other than happen to be there at that moment. The latter part of that sentence even put some personality into the rock by implying it had a choice in the matter to be in that spot when, of course, naturally occurring phenomenon such as rock slides from erosion moved the rock into that place.
And it’s interesting to analyze what it takes for us to begin perceiving objects as living beings. Compare a castle with a space ship you designed. The former will protect you from incoming invasions, withstand catapults, keep out wildlife, provide shelter from harsh weather, and give a sense of comfort having something to call home. Yet if the place is razed, you probably would not be so concerned with the idea of the building “dying” after what it provided for so many years as you would be disheartened to have to come up with the resources and time to rebuild the thing again. A space ship, on the other hand, does almost exactly what a castle can do in its own environment (protect, shelter, etc.), but we tend to give it a name, take special care in its condition, and feel truly disheartened if the ship were to ever be destroyed. We see it as a living thing instead of a ship and the castle as just a structure yet they are very similar in purpose. Even if you were to name the castle, it probably won’t hold a candle to the character the ship will have to you.
The same goes with a sword. It literally is a piece of metal that does nothing unless someone picks it up and uses it as a weapon. It has the same principle purpose as a rock can have if used similarly. Yet the rock is unappealing to us, ordinary in its own right. The sword is an extension of our arm, the very tool we need to easily defend and attack someone if need be. We give it a wild and exotic name. We begin to rely upon it to get us out of trouble. Once again, our notion of an object takes on life, and it may be relating closer to things that tend to save our lives and protect us. Then again, we don’t usually give shields names or think of them as we do for swords.
In the end, it boils down to our own way of viewing things. We think squirrels are cute but despise rats though they are both rodents. A castle has no “character” like a space ship. The castle is made of cold stone walls, hard iron, and could even be considered “too large” to have personality. Think of the giant capital ships in Star Wars, and they feel just like a machine. Yet the Millennium Falcon was practically another character in Star Wars. Having said that, Luke’s X-Wing took him all over the galaxy and was wrecked into a bog on Dagobah, but we think of it as an X-Wing like the others that Red squadron flew. So it’s more the experience the item has that gives it the life that we take it to have.
A volley ball is just another ball to play with, but draw a smiling face on it and suddenly it becomes Wilson, Chuck Noland’s best friend while stranded on a deserted island in Cast Away. He wouldn’t have done such a thing living back home with his family, but in that situation and experience, the ball is given life.
It’s interesting to see what brings character and life into lifeless things.
Until next time, lie about your dice roll as much as you can get away with. Thanks for stopping by.