So, we have a considerable number of people living in Spire-Emporiums.
We got enamel toliet bowls invented in 1885, then Mr. Crapper (it is a real name) invented flushing toliet in 1891 in UK (the ingame year is now 1893). For the poorer lodgings or the more remote ones I can see people just emptying chamberpots and some such, and I suspect the Sanctum (time oddities) and the Hotel (mind oddities) doesn’t have to worry that either.
But Spire-Emporiums are kind of in the unique situation of being a fancy high-rise based on a living crab. What if my acquaintances served me a lacre-dinner with poo-poo potentially mixed in? What does the Master think? Does the Bazaar cry so much because there are so many people literally pooping on it? Do we have plumbing, or do we empty chamberpots like splash-of-cosmogone over the Bazaar Sidestreet so only people with 100+ Dangerous and Shadowy are permitted to enter? Do we brew all of that into Darkdrop Coffee? edited by Estelle Knoht on 12/19/2015
But another question comes to mind: since we know tears of the Bazaar, both liquid and frozen, have special properties (as do all of its body parts, really), then what about the Bazaar’s feces? Does it simply never excrete them? And if it does, what magical/alien properties do they possess?
I expect that Spire-Dwellers also use chamberpots. The only difference is that they have people (servants or Clay) to empty them.
(Now, if you want a truly disturbing thought, consider toilets in Polythreme)[/quote]
Yeah, this was the conclusion I came to when the question randomly came into my mind one day. I’m not sure how much the Bazaar has been altered to accommodate residents, but plumbing seems a bit much to agree to.
Well there are mentions of sewers in the stories every now and then so I guess London has a working plumbing system. However I also prefer the chamberpots angle. There might be enterprising individuals with cosmogene inspiration that may use the resulting night soil for compost for raising both edible and intelligent fungi.
This was not an image I needed at this time of the day. Really.
(No, really though, it gave me a good laugh :D)
I’m fairly sure there was some form of plumbing by the time the 1890s rolled around… I mean, if London was taken in the 1860s, there might be a good chance there was some rudimentary form of sewage treatment in place already. However, the sewage back then was instead washed out to sea… so would the citizens be dumping tonnes of waste into the Zee instead? If they’re not using chamberpots, I mean.
[quote=Estelle Knoht]So, we have a considerable number of people living in Spire-Emporiums.
We got enamel toliet bowls invented in 1885, then Mr. Crapper (it is a real name) invented flushing toliet in 1891 in UK (the ingame year is now 1893). For the poorer lodgings or the more remote ones I can see people just emptying chamberpots and some such, and I suspect the Sanctum (time oddities) and the Hotel (mind oddities) doesn’t have to worry that either.
But Spire-Emporiums are kind of in the unique situation of being a fancy high-rise based on a living crab. What if my acquaintances served me a lacre-dinner with poo-poo potentially mixed in? What does the Master think? Does the Bazaar cry so much because there are so many people literally pooping on it? Do we have plumbing, or do we empty chamberpots like splash-of-cosmogone over the Bazaar Sidestreet so only people with 100+ Dangerous and Shadowy are permitted to enter? Do we brew all of that into Darkdrop Coffee? edited by Estelle Knoht on 12/19/2015[/quote]
Mr. Crapper, that other Master that even MR. EATEN doesn’t want to talk about.
Joseph Bazalgette had already begun his project of modernising the sewers of London as of 1861 - it was still early days, but if the new parliament convened to replace those who had been eaten were still amenable, it’s possible the process might have been continued. As noted above, the flush toilet actually dates back to antiquity - but, the aptly-named Mr Crapper was already in the plumbing trade by '61, and it’s entirely possible that he lived to implement his own contributions to the field (including a personal favourite, the patented floating ballcock) in the Neath.
Personally, there’s two guesses I’m ready to make. One, that Fallen London stinks. Two, that any chasm, ravine or cleft that can be semi-safely accessed serves as a dumping-ground until it either fills up, or whatever dread creature inhabits it comes clambering out to object.
Knowing the Neath, we might have the same situation on our hands that happened in good ol’ Beersheba - under Flute Street and everything else, there is another London, even more Fallen, constructed from nothing but sewage accumulated from the Fifth and all previous cities. No one can say what smelly horrors dwell within.
Failbetter, please make this an Expedition destination.