America: Write Your Own History
- Thread starter Royal Tenenbaum
- Start date
mrrandomplayer
Hopeless Situation Warrior
In DoC, the extra trade route, increased corporation output, and lower upkeep far surpass the Specialist production bonus and Windmill/Workshop food bonus of State Property. The stability bonus was moved to Totalitarianism.
Moai_Spammer
Ave, True to Caesar!
but if you have a couple of useless cities that produce wealth (north America has a few) you can easily make up for the loss
mrrandomplayer
Hopeless Situation Warrior
Yeah, but the extra trade route in all cities is amazing, while the bonuses State Property have to offer are pretty lackluster in comparison.
Moai_Spammer
Ave, True to Caesar!
it really all comes down to how you improve the land and your overall strategy
baseballpie
Deity
- Joined
- Nov 13, 2012
- Messages
- 2,090
Woodsworth
Canada ftw!
Canada ftw!
Atlantic Pacf.
Back from the dead
- Joined
- Jul 20, 2012
- Messages
- 400
Luigi Guglielmo (1876-1950) was born in Naples, Italy; he immigrated to Philadelphia in 1896 and attended college at Drexel University. He moved to New York upon completing his degree and became a creative writing teacher at Massapequa High School, where he was the chief adviser to the Massapequa Model United Nations delegation. As such, he was one of the two teachers present at the UN Shooting of 1921, which profoundly affected his views on American society, particularly with regards to racism. In 1927, he returned to Europe and settled in Bordeaux, France, where he associated with the American expatriate community of writers, including Ernest Hemingway, Gertrude Stein, and F. Scott Fitzgerald. He would go on to write three novels and a volume of twenty short stories, in English, French, and Italian.
Reflections of the UN Shooting, by Luigi Guglielmo (1924)
I remember that day as if it was new. The anticipation that the delegates had when they left the Clam House, with them hoping to win the school a gavel[1], with them wanting to return to delegating. Participating in caucuses, working with others on resolutions, and then chilling out once the stress-causing parts were over were all on their minds. Not on their minds was being shot by religious extremists, in broad daylight, in front of occupied throngs of people, under the shadow of one of the most prestigious institutions in the world. It's like the hubris of youth in general; the youth of our age expect a long life, that the world is their oyster. Full of hope, these students expect that some day, they would make their mark on the world, to make it a better place for all peoples. It's change that they want to make, and it's change that groups like the one that killed them want to prevent.
We therefore did not expect such a scene to happen. The chilling screams of teenagers as they lose grasp of their life force, the anxious shouts of bystanders, unable to do anything, and the screech of tires grinding the rocks between them and the pavement...these were the sounds that I remember. In the wake of what the worst of humanity could bring, what the best humanity could bring followed. Ambulance, blaring their horns first five blocks away, then four, then three, then two, and finally down to one, arrived in a desperate hope to salvage something from the wreckage. Policemen came and ushered everyone unharmed, including myself, away from this now-hallowed ground.
Three days later I arrived at the Gerrit Smith Hospital of New York. I immediately headed for the room of Katherine Silayev - for she laid dying. She was a student not only for Model UN, but for my creative writing course. And to be honest, she was one of my favorites. Whenever her usual friends were busy or up to things that were simply too stupid for her, she sat next to me and started talking. Our topics included everything under the sun - politics, religion, metaphysics, the weather. And even when things were tense, we ended each conversation in a cordial manner. Sometimes, these conversations ended up in her writings, where they never fail to amaze and humor me and others.
Her body was covered in strings and tubes- thin, spindly string for IV drips; fat, translucent feeding tubes, and green, red, and black wires crisscrossing and ending up in all locations on her. Her golden red hair laid down like a spider with a million loose legs. Her beady eyes looked up. I looked up and saw nothing but a tiled roof and florescent lights, but she saw something profound. I looked back down at her and finally noticed the bullet wound - in her stomach, it was violent, stunning, and grotesque. I saw wounds during the shooting out of the corner of my eye, but I managed to not look straight at them. Here, I compelled myself to stare into the eye of Death himself.
And so for the next fifteen minutes, she did nothing. I presumed that she was or had slipped into a coma. Then for the last five minutes of her life, she started mumbling. At first, it was just that, mumbling. Then it became nonsense, until finally she uttered her last words: "Bill, I vowed to marry you. I know that it's not happening. But perhaps it will, symbolically." I remembered her saying that to Bill Lucas at the Philadelphia Model United Nations. "So," I said to Bill, "do you want to marry at the tender age of sixteen?" Back then, it was a joke. Now, it was real.
And then her eyes glazed over, her heartbeat flattened, and I knew that she became the last in line to the doors of Hades.
A month later, our Secretary General[2], Arianne Khorasani, returned from the hospital. She was in a wheelchair; the murderers robbed her of the use of her legs. Yet she seemed happy. No; she was happy. When she arrived through the cafeteria doors, the entire club rose up in a standing ovation. She wheeled herself over to her usual spot at the front of the cafeteria, where she presided along with the other Board members. There were three other members there, three survivors. Space was made between them, where two of the dead (and another still at the hospital) were amongst the Board.
As everyone sat back down, there was silence. Everybody knew that our family, the Bethesda Preparatory School Model United Nations family, has gotten smaller. "The B-MUN Family" is a concept that we embrace. We are all friends here when we start, or at least cordial with each other, but as we progress through the year, a bond starts connecting between us. As much as I loathe to admit it, it is probably through our shared struggles in this club, whether it be handing in things on time or trying to juggle writing a position paper[3] with five different school projects or trying to be eloquent as possible in order to win that elusive gavel, in which we became closer. The shooting was yet another struggle, more sudden and severe than the others we have faced, but it was a struggle never the less, and we clasped ourselves in its wake. At that point, we truly felt like a family, and we felt the felling of our comrades as if a parent or a sibling was slain.
Then out of the blue, Michael Freedman ran up to the front table and embraced Arianne. His large ears and cheeks rubbed against her bright eyes and hawkish nose. Both smiled. Both teared. For a second time, the club rose in a standing ovation. For this was more than a welcome back. This was love, perhaps the strongest of the emotions felt by human beings, overcoming its equal and opposite, hate.
The extremists, as powerful as they seem on the surface, are actually not. They are only a small minority of the entire American population, and the majority are against them. They know this, that they can't beat the populace's fists. So instead, they beat the populace's minds and hearts. This is terrorism. The extremists, whether they are racists or nativists or socialists or capitalists, are learning to use terror to advance their goals. The killing of teenagers is a supreme use of this - that those who need our protection are no less a target for the extremists strikes fear in all of our hearts.
Terrorism is nothing new. The minorities of this countries know it all too well. The Negro was terrorized by the KKK - ghostly figures killing, kidnapping, and raping indiscriminately - in order for him to learn his "place." Before that, there was the slave master and his whip, used exactly for the same purpose. More recently, the New Immigrants - Italians like I, Russians like Katherine, Persians like Arianne, Indians like Prithvi and Payal and Mayil and...we know violence. For example, the nativists accuse the Indians of spreading Socialism to American soil, despite the fact that many, if not most, of them were refugees from the Socialist Indian government or were professionals and bourgeoisie who would've disagreed anyway. Same thing for the Russians or the new German immigrants. They fear us, with their fear being based on half- and non-truths. They retaliate by bringing fear onto us; that fear is real and concrete.
The murderers have been dead for at least two years, whether they met their final fall by the end of a policeman's bullet or by being cooked in the electric chair. But their ghosts still cast shadows upon us, shadows of fear and hate and division. Ten MHSMUN members are dead as well. We cannot change that, regardless of whatever capacity for hope we are willing to release. What we can hope for, however, is that their ghosts, their memories, would inspire us to create a world that they wanted - a world of peace and security, of integration and understanding, of fun, wonder, and amazement! What the extremists represented are the problems of our generation, and what those students represented are the hopes and dreams that come from solving these problems. Our job then, as the living, is to find solutions to these problems in order to achieve those hopes and dreams, to create that better world for all, to ensure that they have not died in vain.
[1]As prizes at most MUN conferences, individuals win literal gavels for being good overall delegates, for having the best position papers (see below), etc. At NHSMUN, prizes are awarded to schools, since one room can have ~200 delegates.
[2]Many MUN chapters, and many school clubs, have student-run boards (in our universe, or at least where I live, called Executive, or E-Boards) that govern the clubs. In the case of MUN, the titles are named after positions on the real UN.
[3]Position papers are papers one would have to write before attending a MUN conference.
Reflections of the UN Shooting, by Luigi Guglielmo (1924)
I remember that day as if it was new. The anticipation that the delegates had when they left the Clam House, with them hoping to win the school a gavel[1], with them wanting to return to delegating. Participating in caucuses, working with others on resolutions, and then chilling out once the stress-causing parts were over were all on their minds. Not on their minds was being shot by religious extremists, in broad daylight, in front of occupied throngs of people, under the shadow of one of the most prestigious institutions in the world. It's like the hubris of youth in general; the youth of our age expect a long life, that the world is their oyster. Full of hope, these students expect that some day, they would make their mark on the world, to make it a better place for all peoples. It's change that they want to make, and it's change that groups like the one that killed them want to prevent.
We therefore did not expect such a scene to happen. The chilling screams of teenagers as they lose grasp of their life force, the anxious shouts of bystanders, unable to do anything, and the screech of tires grinding the rocks between them and the pavement...these were the sounds that I remember. In the wake of what the worst of humanity could bring, what the best humanity could bring followed. Ambulance, blaring their horns first five blocks away, then four, then three, then two, and finally down to one, arrived in a desperate hope to salvage something from the wreckage. Policemen came and ushered everyone unharmed, including myself, away from this now-hallowed ground.
Three days later I arrived at the Gerrit Smith Hospital of New York. I immediately headed for the room of Katherine Silayev - for she laid dying. She was a student not only for Model UN, but for my creative writing course. And to be honest, she was one of my favorites. Whenever her usual friends were busy or up to things that were simply too stupid for her, she sat next to me and started talking. Our topics included everything under the sun - politics, religion, metaphysics, the weather. And even when things were tense, we ended each conversation in a cordial manner. Sometimes, these conversations ended up in her writings, where they never fail to amaze and humor me and others.
Her body was covered in strings and tubes- thin, spindly string for IV drips; fat, translucent feeding tubes, and green, red, and black wires crisscrossing and ending up in all locations on her. Her golden red hair laid down like a spider with a million loose legs. Her beady eyes looked up. I looked up and saw nothing but a tiled roof and florescent lights, but she saw something profound. I looked back down at her and finally noticed the bullet wound - in her stomach, it was violent, stunning, and grotesque. I saw wounds during the shooting out of the corner of my eye, but I managed to not look straight at them. Here, I compelled myself to stare into the eye of Death himself.
And so for the next fifteen minutes, she did nothing. I presumed that she was or had slipped into a coma. Then for the last five minutes of her life, she started mumbling. At first, it was just that, mumbling. Then it became nonsense, until finally she uttered her last words: "Bill, I vowed to marry you. I know that it's not happening. But perhaps it will, symbolically." I remembered her saying that to Bill Lucas at the Philadelphia Model United Nations. "So," I said to Bill, "do you want to marry at the tender age of sixteen?" Back then, it was a joke. Now, it was real.
And then her eyes glazed over, her heartbeat flattened, and I knew that she became the last in line to the doors of Hades.
* * *
A month later, our Secretary General[2], Arianne Khorasani, returned from the hospital. She was in a wheelchair; the murderers robbed her of the use of her legs. Yet she seemed happy. No; she was happy. When she arrived through the cafeteria doors, the entire club rose up in a standing ovation. She wheeled herself over to her usual spot at the front of the cafeteria, where she presided along with the other Board members. There were three other members there, three survivors. Space was made between them, where two of the dead (and another still at the hospital) were amongst the Board.
As everyone sat back down, there was silence. Everybody knew that our family, the Bethesda Preparatory School Model United Nations family, has gotten smaller. "The B-MUN Family" is a concept that we embrace. We are all friends here when we start, or at least cordial with each other, but as we progress through the year, a bond starts connecting between us. As much as I loathe to admit it, it is probably through our shared struggles in this club, whether it be handing in things on time or trying to juggle writing a position paper[3] with five different school projects or trying to be eloquent as possible in order to win that elusive gavel, in which we became closer. The shooting was yet another struggle, more sudden and severe than the others we have faced, but it was a struggle never the less, and we clasped ourselves in its wake. At that point, we truly felt like a family, and we felt the felling of our comrades as if a parent or a sibling was slain.
Then out of the blue, Michael Freedman ran up to the front table and embraced Arianne. His large ears and cheeks rubbed against her bright eyes and hawkish nose. Both smiled. Both teared. For a second time, the club rose in a standing ovation. For this was more than a welcome back. This was love, perhaps the strongest of the emotions felt by human beings, overcoming its equal and opposite, hate.
* * *
The extremists, as powerful as they seem on the surface, are actually not. They are only a small minority of the entire American population, and the majority are against them. They know this, that they can't beat the populace's fists. So instead, they beat the populace's minds and hearts. This is terrorism. The extremists, whether they are racists or nativists or socialists or capitalists, are learning to use terror to advance their goals. The killing of teenagers is a supreme use of this - that those who need our protection are no less a target for the extremists strikes fear in all of our hearts.
Terrorism is nothing new. The minorities of this countries know it all too well. The Negro was terrorized by the KKK - ghostly figures killing, kidnapping, and raping indiscriminately - in order for him to learn his "place." Before that, there was the slave master and his whip, used exactly for the same purpose. More recently, the New Immigrants - Italians like I, Russians like Katherine, Persians like Arianne, Indians like Prithvi and Payal and Mayil and...we know violence. For example, the nativists accuse the Indians of spreading Socialism to American soil, despite the fact that many, if not most, of them were refugees from the Socialist Indian government or were professionals and bourgeoisie who would've disagreed anyway. Same thing for the Russians or the new German immigrants. They fear us, with their fear being based on half- and non-truths. They retaliate by bringing fear onto us; that fear is real and concrete.
The murderers have been dead for at least two years, whether they met their final fall by the end of a policeman's bullet or by being cooked in the electric chair. But their ghosts still cast shadows upon us, shadows of fear and hate and division. Ten MHSMUN members are dead as well. We cannot change that, regardless of whatever capacity for hope we are willing to release. What we can hope for, however, is that their ghosts, their memories, would inspire us to create a world that they wanted - a world of peace and security, of integration and understanding, of fun, wonder, and amazement! What the extremists represented are the problems of our generation, and what those students represented are the hopes and dreams that come from solving these problems. Our job then, as the living, is to find solutions to these problems in order to achieve those hopes and dreams, to create that better world for all, to ensure that they have not died in vain.
[1]As prizes at most MUN conferences, individuals win literal gavels for being good overall delegates, for having the best position papers (see below), etc. At NHSMUN, prizes are awarded to schools, since one room can have ~200 delegates.
[2]Many MUN chapters, and many school clubs, have student-run boards (in our universe, or at least where I live, called Executive, or E-Boards) that govern the clubs. In the case of MUN, the titles are named after positions on the real UN.
[3]Position papers are papers one would have to write before attending a MUN conference.
CaterpillarKing
Conqueror of Cacoons
Atlantic Pacf., that is tremendous. I keep forgetting that this didn't actually happen, you are an amazing writer and you bring life to this whole thread, keep up the good work!
Imperator Knoedel
Simperator Knoedel
Foster.
mrrandomplayer
Hopeless Situation Warrior
No posts in over an hour? What madness is this?
CaterpillarKing
Conqueror of Cacoons
I think everyone is just tired 
Moai_Spammer
Ave, True to Caesar!
DKVM
Joker
Moai_Spammer
Ave, True to Caesar!
oh danggit, i forgot to do my big super ultra 1000th post update
i think ill just replace it with an 1005th super ultra post update
i think ill just replace it with an 1005th super ultra post update
Atlantic Pacf.
Back from the dead
- Joined
- Jul 20, 2012
- Messages
- 400
NAACP Crosses the 300,000 Member Mark
The National Association for the Advancement of Colored Peoples (NAACP) has announced that it now has 300,000 members. Though its membership is mostly made up of Negros, there is a substantial number of member of other ethnic groups in its ranks, particularly Indians. With this increase in membership, it is expected to become a significant force in American politics, able to challenge the powerful KKK and other racist groups.
The NAACP was created in 1909 the wake of the 1908 Race Riot in Springfield, Illinois, Lincoln's hometown. In many ways, this organization was a successor to the Niagara Movement, a civil rights organization that began in 1905. When it began, it was dedicated solely to improving conditions for Negros, mostly by challenging Jim Crow legislation in the courts. It fought Wilson's racist policies, successfully campaigned for Negros to join the war effort against Germany, and held protests against the controversial film The Birth of a Nation. It also campaigned against lynching, which was and is commonplace in the South.
However, the 1921 UN Shooting publicized discrimination against other minorities, including European and Asian immigrants. Even before the Shooting, Indians, Russians, and other immigrants faced discrimination and violence, on the basis that they might be agents for Socialism and Communism. Many businesses are segregated against them, and many higher education institutions deliberately skew their admissions processes against them. As a result, as early as 1915 the NAACP began shifting focus from being solely a Negro organization to becoming a civil rights organization for all minorities. For example, it helped defeat the passage of the Immigration Act of 1917, which would had banned immigration from large parts of southern Asia. The Shooting did cause the greatest surge in Indian membership, however.
OOC Question: RT, will there be any involvement of the African National Congress? It was founded in 1912, and since S. Africa is part of the US, I would expect it to be involved some way in American politics at this point.
The National Association for the Advancement of Colored Peoples (NAACP) has announced that it now has 300,000 members. Though its membership is mostly made up of Negros, there is a substantial number of member of other ethnic groups in its ranks, particularly Indians. With this increase in membership, it is expected to become a significant force in American politics, able to challenge the powerful KKK and other racist groups.
The NAACP was created in 1909 the wake of the 1908 Race Riot in Springfield, Illinois, Lincoln's hometown. In many ways, this organization was a successor to the Niagara Movement, a civil rights organization that began in 1905. When it began, it was dedicated solely to improving conditions for Negros, mostly by challenging Jim Crow legislation in the courts. It fought Wilson's racist policies, successfully campaigned for Negros to join the war effort against Germany, and held protests against the controversial film The Birth of a Nation. It also campaigned against lynching, which was and is commonplace in the South.
However, the 1921 UN Shooting publicized discrimination against other minorities, including European and Asian immigrants. Even before the Shooting, Indians, Russians, and other immigrants faced discrimination and violence, on the basis that they might be agents for Socialism and Communism. Many businesses are segregated against them, and many higher education institutions deliberately skew their admissions processes against them. As a result, as early as 1915 the NAACP began shifting focus from being solely a Negro organization to becoming a civil rights organization for all minorities. For example, it helped defeat the passage of the Immigration Act of 1917, which would had banned immigration from large parts of southern Asia. The Shooting did cause the greatest surge in Indian membership, however.
Spoiler :
OOC Question: RT, will there be any involvement of the African National Congress? It was founded in 1912, and since S. Africa is part of the US, I would expect it to be involved some way in American politics at this point.
