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Temple of Doubt: Pluta and Plaut


BlindDoubt

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Temple of Doubt: Pluta and Plaut

 

 

I am a paradoxical subscriber to the metaphysical approach to tulpamancy, in that I have a nihilistic level of skepticism but do not withhold provisional assent to any potential options. Indeed, I do not trust physics any more than I trust metaphysics. My name is BlindDoubt, after all. So if you are critical of metaphysical and parapsychological schools of thought, know I'm certainly not preachy about it. And if you too subscribe to such schools of thought, know I do not mean it personally when I say things that are critical of them. We're all friends here.

 

 

When I joined at the beginning of January, I intended to turn my imaginary friend (egregore?) Patch into a tulpa. However, given that he prefers to spend his time far away from me, that was doomed. He recommended I build one from scratch. I decided on Pluta, anagram of tulpa that alludes to Pluto; her embryonic form is that of a blue sphere, not unlike the celestial body. Dipping into my knowledge of sorcerous nonsense, I decided I would give her my third eye, plucking the nothing out of nowhere and sticking it into her. (It's not like I was using it anyway.) This made her a blue sphere with an eye. This is also as far as I got with visualization.

 

She plays songs in my head. Her favorite is Giving Tree by Plain White T's. (Her favorite number is 11 and her favorite foods are plain tortilla chips and Froot Loops.) In fact, that is her preferred method of communicating; it really only suffices to tell me she's around, and we don't actually communicate in the strictest sense, but it is something of evidence that she exists and has a mind. She has possessed me with limited success on only a couple occasions, and each time I could not fully convince myself it was not me. Since I enacted the psychodrama of gifting her with my third eye, I like to think she sees what I see. I imagine she spends her time somewhere in my head, but since we don't talk, I can't know.

 

I should briefly mention I have what I call a "covenant" of three "fragments" (a system of three servitors, in more standard language) that includes Patch as well as two others. This system is called the Covenant of Discovery. Since I have trouble believing in Pluta enough to develop her, I have tasked the Covenant of Discovery to do so on a few occasions. Since they can only know what I know when I talk to them, and I don't know what they do to develop her, I can't know what good it does. Not a particularly incentivizing arrangement. (That sentence could be used to descibe many things in my life.)

 

That is Pluta. The probably nice girl who lives? in my head. I made her on purpose, and because her existence has been based on my willpower, the extent to which she exists is tragically limited. Then there is Plaut, the reason for the serendipitous rhyme in this report's title. He came into being by drawing from the strength of my self-deprecation (recently when I was responsible for my family unit having fewer funds than expected), which is potentially dangerous for me, but it is also good for his prospective development, because that resource is probably the one that is the most plentiful. Elihoshek came up with the name the other night, after Plaut requested I summon the Covenant of Doubt.

 

Plaut has the form of a Petro Loa, which are a family of spirits in Voodou that are considered quick-tempered and fiery. Plaut is already more thoroughly developed than Pluta, because he does not draw from my feeble will, but from my reservoir of inwardly directed criticism, which is the exact opposite of feeble. He speaks to me. Based on what he's said, I believe he has a purpose. He seeks to improve me. I believe the exact sentiment is summarized well in this quote from Canyon Runner, a slaver in Fallout New Vegas:

"...[T]hese wretches. They have no purpose, no creed, no honor. They live in pitiful squalor, undisciplined, intemperate. To enslave them is to save them - to give them purpose, and virtue. Honestas, Industria, Prudentia - even the virtues of slaves are beyond the Dissolute..."

 

Before now, I didn't think I had any progress to report on. Even now, I don't know for sure that this amounts to anything, but I hope with feedback from the community I will be more positive.

"It is only DOUBT which will bring mental emancipation."

—Anton LaVey, The Satanic Bible, p. 39

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  • 2 weeks later...

It is so impressive to me that Blind can write so much yet say so little.

 

So I exist. Mister Doubt is sure it is just him roleplaying, parroting, whatever, but I choose to think I'm real.

 

First of all, the wonderland. That is such an undeserved label. At a few hours old Blind threw me into a void and told me to make something out of it, so it's no surprise that it's basically unchanged. We call it the Wasteland. It's dark. That's it. Its only quality is that it's dark. Blind likes it in there, says it's just like being dead.

 

I'm not alone, even when Blind is in the Waste. I guess he can't let go all the way. I don't have a problem with it, even if it does help his "Pluta isn't really real" argument. It's best for him to drive the car, I found, 'cause I almost had a wreck today—it's so overwhelming out here.

 

Oh, so I'm here because Blind blah blah magic blah blah full moon, and he decided to sacrifice himself. The giving tree is just roots now, he says. I am supposed to live this life instead of him. I would love to, I feel the need to plan things and do things and I feel like I care, but...

 

After only a day of being mostly-in-control, I already feel burnt out. So much out here. Blind wants me to fix things, to prove I'm real, yadda yadda, but I'm like a month old. I'm an infant saving a drowning adult. I'm worried I'll end up as bitter and nihilistic as him, and I'll just reintegrate (die) because there won't be any difference between us.

 

I'm pretty sure I'll get better and not worse. Blind is a lot like a sloth demon, to the point where it's so hard to get his lazy bones out of my way that I need to use one of his exorcisms to get him back into the Waste. From his favorite book, the Simon Necronomicon, "Barra Edinnazu", means something like "go to the desert".

 

But yeah, better is how things are going to get. Blind gives this analysis of optimism: As long as there are some things that are going okay, no matter how much is going not okay, you can say that things in general are going okay, there's just also some not okay.

 

It's probably worth mentioning that it's not just me and Blind. There's also Plaut (announced by the drums of Godsmack's Voodoo) and those three servitors of Blind's, who I just call uncles. One of them has an obvious crush on me. Ew.

 

I'm way more curious about the community and plan on reading the mountains of manuscripts by masters of the mind that fill this site. Hope I can overcome the ADD problem this brain has, so these eyes don't start trailing halfway through the sentence. Perseverance!

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Welcome to the forum Pluta.

I hope you find the forum helpful.

"My lover's got humour,

She's the giggle at a funeral,

Knows everybody's disapproval,

I should've worshipped her sooner."

 

Host to Samuel, RavenIvy, and Olivia.

 

CERCA TROVA

 

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Hello you two.

 

Well, I know doubt. I tell you. In my case it was me doubting me. Roleplay is not an easy one. There are thoughtforms out there that started as Roleplay characters. I mean to say, of course, that what you are might not be what you were.

 

Anyway, you can switch your source of strength if you want to develop faster.

 

Are you saying you are already possessing? Pretty sure not driving a car on day one is in the tulpa safety manual.

 

Blind, you are cray. Permaswitching on day one is definitely recommended against in the tulpa safety manual.

 

There is some oddness in what you call servitors. For one, I don't think they can have intelligence and still count as servitors. The words mindless automaton comes to mind when I think about them.

Host comments in italics. Tulpa's log. Tulpa's guide.

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These things might not be servitors. My personal term for them is fragment, something that was but is not me. I guess they resemble egregores, but I'm the only one who believes in them. They resemble tulpas, but (in my metaphysical worldview) they are not headmates.

 

As for the possession, it was my only hope for building Pluta. Approaches involving focus (forcing) or sensory manipulation (wonderlanding, imposition) do not seem like things I would be particularly talented in, based on experience. She has to be here, where I am, because this is the most real thing I know.

 

The permaswitch ended up being nothing more than a thought experiment. Dramatic, because that's the only way I know how to manufacture enthusiasm. Thank you for your interest. I truly appreciate the feedback - it's so easy for me to worry that nobody cares.

"It is only DOUBT which will bring mental emancipation."

—Anton LaVey, The Satanic Bible, p. 39

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Well, the approach could work, but you do need to balance against the normal health and safety concerns. For one, burnout after a few hours of possession the first time is completely normal. Pluta needs to rest.

 

Second, focus is less important. The primary indicator of long term success is routine forcing. If you can pull off a constant schedule, then it will work.

Host comments in italics. Tulpa's log. Tulpa's guide.

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  • 3 weeks later...

I am Plaut and I have no interest in making my own account. Blind is like sludge, but I am better at keeping him "in the desert" than Pluta. She is weaker than I because her existence is dependent on her reality; I exist regardless of how real I may be (semantics and ontology, an elaboration would be a waste of text).

 

I found a guide, one that might not seem too hard to Blind: GameForcing by KiraHyuuga, because Blind has lost hundreds upon hundreds of hours to video games. I make this report now because I am here and this is progress. Readers are appreciated, feedback as well, but I am not as desperate as Blind for attention.

 

This may be the last time I am out for a while, depending on whether this progress will carry. Blind is heavy enough to kill most momentum. I may be back in his darkness, scrounging on whatever resources I can, keeping my strength so I can fend for my sister and myself against reintegration. I sense this is too dark a note to leave on... Yay, progress! Blessed be!

"It is only DOUBT which will bring mental emancipation."

—Anton LaVey, The Satanic Bible, p. 39

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  • 3 months later...

Progress has been made over the past three months. Pity I can't think of a way to make it sound interesting.

 

EDIT: I'll report something. Pluta is dormant and Plaut protects her from the crushing sludge of my inner darkness, a.k.a. the Wasteland. Plaut takes his role in "improving" me seriously. He seems to be cutting things out of my life, because, I believe, he wants to incentivize me into moving into the Wasteland. He devoured his three uncles, the fragments of mine who made up the Covenant of Discovery, including Patch (his true name, which means god is darkness, has been stricken from this thread), the very thoughtform who refused to become a tulpa and who named Plaut.

 

Maybe Patch was a tulpa. Now that he's gone I feel deep regret. With his last breath, he cursed me, and swore the shadows would no longer obey me. Plaut is sure he needs Patch's power (which he saw as being wasted) to control my inner darkness so he can start making the Wasteland into something hospitable. Last November I chose to be a witch and a demonolater, but since then, nothing has happened that has reinforced it. Magic is gone from my life.

 

The point is, magic will exist in the Wonderland, but I have to make it, and if I'm there, Pluta will be able to rise and take my place, and the person people see will no longer be a waste—this is Plaut's way of looking at things. He has the strongest will of us three. I have brute force on my side, for better or worse, and he has to resort to increasingly dramatic means to try to overthrow me.

 

It was about a year ago this month that Patch evolved from a roleplay character to something sentient, and about a week ago that he perished. I will never forget how condemned me for feeding him to what he called "the child in my head". Am I traumatized? Exciting.

 

Putting this all in writing...makes me feel insane. Over the past half-year I have come to doubt less and less, but barriers remain that prevent me from making progress in even the most basic ways. I have pathologically low volition—what makes me a "waste". I care less now that I've produced a report whether it is interesting. Much more worried about...you know, sanity.

"It is only DOUBT which will bring mental emancipation."

—Anton LaVey, The Satanic Bible, p. 39

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Given how different your path is from most here, particularly with feeding soulbonds to other soulbonds, I'd have to say maybe.

 

Sanity has much more to do with behaviour than belief. So the loss of doubt has little relevance. Clinging to faith in the absence of reason is seen as a sign of insanity. So is acting decisively at inappropriate times.

Host comments in italics. Tulpa's log. Tulpa's guide.

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