Living in a Mystery

My speculations on the nature of the mysteries rarely venture beyond the generally accepted theories (or at least what appear to be such from a random sampling of ten or so other hypothesizes). However, there are times that I can not rein in my radical intellect and so I have posted such groundbreaking theories here for your admiration. Or scorn if you are too small minded to appreciate genius when it is lain before you.

Why are there no foxes in the city?
Why would one think that just because they can’t find a small clever animal that is very skilled at hiding, they are not there?

Where is Mr Eaten?
In the well, in the Forgotten Quarter
Admittedly this can probably be considered almost mainstream, as it is a combination of two very common theories. Also the subsequent speculations become much more fanciful and farcical at this point.

What price was paid for London?
19.95. Why 19.95? Because all sleazy offers from the traitor empress are 19.95.

Who makes the Clay Men?
Failbetter Games. Strangely enough, this corporation makes no appearance in any of the records of Fallen London, The Masters, or even the works of Edmond Hoyle. And I admit precisely how Clay Men fail better at games still eludes me.

I do hope this sparks some rather iconoclastic thoughts in my fellow denizens of Fallen London. I rather suspect however that I will have to settle for a wry chuckle or two.

I will not claim to be an authority on any of these questions, and thus will refrain from commenting on whether they’re plaussible or not, but it did make me chuckle, so rest assured that no matter what your effords have not been in vain.

Your confidence reminds me of a rather charming gentleman I met at a party recently, a sharp wit he had, especially one of his remarks stuck with me “The only thing that sustains one throught life is the consciousness of the immense inferioirty of everybody else, and this is a feeling I have always cultivated”. He actually wrote a book this summer, a rather scandalous thing, definitely a recommended read.

edited by Malt Jones on 1/10/2012

Similarly, “Why do the Masters of the Bazaar value echoes so?”
Because they use them to lure more people to Fallen London. From Facebook. And twitter.

[quote]What price was paid for London?
19.95. Why 19.95? Because all sleazy offers from the traitor empress are 19.95.[/quote]

…Hm. Have you been to the Empress’ Court yet? Towards the end, there are some very strong hints as to what the price was.

Why are prisoners masked?

The most common theory, and the one I myself entertained for quite a long time, is to strip them of their identity. Upon further consideration, I believe that this is at best only half the answer.

The masks are not there to remove there identity. On the contrary, they are there to preserve their identity. To protect the identity from perhaps the most innocuously named horror of the neath, the dreaded snuffer.[color=#FFFFFF]The snuffer is a hideous creature that strips the faces off of it’s victims and wears them as a disguise, and it is known that at least one calls Newgate Prison it’s home.[/color]

The other purpose is that unless a prisoner removes their mask, which they should not do while confined within Newgate as that renders them vulnerable to the snuffer’s predation, they will never seem innocent enough to be released. They must find some other means of egress.

Why do the Masters of the Bazaar value echoes so?
The symbol for Echos used throughout the neath, is a cross, or a bastardization if you will, of the prior currency of London, the pound, and a sigil of the correspondence. Why do the masters value echos which clearly have a connection to the correspondence or perhaps are the correspondence themselves? How could they not?
edited by Abraham Bounty on 1/23/2012

Why do the Masters of the Bazaar value echoes so?
An echo is the last sound a secret makes before it dies…

[quote=Wieland Burandt]Why do the Masters of the Bazaar value echoes so?
An echo is the last sound a secret makes before it dies…[/quote]
That’s what everyone says. But I’ve never seen the original source of this rumour.

[quote=Patrick Reding][quote=Rupho Schartenhauer]Why do the Masters of the Bazaar value echoes so?
An echo is the last sound a secret makes before it dies…[/quote]
That’s what everyone says. But I’ve never seen the original source of this rumour.[/quote]
Neither have I. ;-)
What about this: the Masters are giant bats who couldn’t find their own backsides without the use of echoes?
edited by Rupho Schartenhauer on 3/24/2015

Or perhaps the echolocation is metaphysical - they respond to the bond, the love, between a sound and its echo.

That’s… oddly plausible actually.

It makes a lot of sense… I for one have witnessed the Masters exhibit very strange behavior in the presence of sonic disturbances…

And it does say that “three decades ago London was stolen by bats”…

And given that the snippets we’ve learned about the Masters actual appearances… Well, them being somehow related to bats is strangely plausible, now that I think about it.

Though that might bring up a possible connection to the Vake. Food for thought, anyway.

Not to mention [color=rgb(255, 255, 255)]The Bishop of Southwark mistaking Mr. Hearts for a magical bat[/color] in the Labyrinth of Tigers.

If I understand you correctly you think the Wings-of-Thunder-Bat is actually Mr Hearts? I’ve never seen it that way… but it does make sense!

That’s exactly what I meant. I don’t think it’s being metaphorical when it comments on how your monsters tasted.

(On a related note, did anyone notice “Empyrean Redolence” is a clever stealth pun?)

Actually, I didn’t ^^" What pun?

Think about it. Look up the words if you need to. I don’t want to spoil the joke.

…I looked up the words, but didn’t come out with anything clever :s spoiler[color=rgb(255, 255, 255)]Unless the “redolence” (fragrance) is connected to the “dolence” (the tears of who never loved?)[/color]spoiler

I’m normally pretty hot on puns but my detectors are not firing. Help! The idea of missing a concealed pun is against my very nature.