Some think Berg is Nord. But Berg is Jotun, Giant. Just puny type.

Name for Giant come from Norse mythology. Berg know this because he has wikipedia. Of course, Berg name come from same place. Bergrisar, mountain giant. This Berg know because mod author is s’nua amott, lazy cunt.

When Berg milk mohroktha, mammoth, he wonder why author cannot give Berg own name like others. He have to steal it. Berg think his word for woman come from German word because author more lazy. So to author, Giant is part Nazi. It make no sense, just like Berg’s metal club. If mod author had woman, Berg would beat him into cheese then make him cuckold. Then he make female grunt like fat cow. Berg only need chance.

But Berg know no fraulen in Mundus fat enough to sleep with mod author, so point is vrokmot, moot.

Some think Berg was first choice. But he not. Berg only exist because big Jotun no talk. So author make puny Jotun and give him round ear. Now author know how make Giant talk, but does he give Berg new ear? Does he give Berg wood club? No, he keep Berg puny because he ikja rakki, bitch.

Forgive Berg, he not always complain so much. He blame mead sauce made by cranky Nord, which not Berg’s people. Real Nord hurt neck try to kiss own face. Berg not so vain. He knows he born puny. But he knows he fight big. Jotun see this and someday teach him make cheese. Someday Berg even make chief, and own many wives. This Berg’s biggest pride. Then he give all other Jotun metal club and see how they like.

But Berg digress. He finish by say jakranu, word of thanks. He think blog is orend klorun, sucks.

Let’s say you own a home. A modest one, but a valuable commodity nonetheless. Now, if I offered you a million forks for it, you would probably reply with laughter, then derision, followed by more laughter combined with hurtful pointing, and when you were finished laughing and chiding and posting videos of me to YouTube you would pick up the phone and promptly call the authorities. It wouldn’t matter that the cumulative value of the forks exceeds the value of your place. It’s like trading 101 pennies for a dollar. At some point, the math doesn’t apply. I’m not selling forks. I’m selling junk.

Now imagine the same scenario, only the homeowner happens to run a successful dinnerware business. She not only owns the stores to sell the forks, but has the distribution infrastructure to deliver them to shelves across the country. For her, I’m not selling forks. I’m selling treasure.

You might say the success of Eldar‘s business plan depends on a variety of factors. The location is important, as are the overencumbered adventurers who stock his wares. However, the hoarding of items isn’t nearly as critical as Belethor’s ability to move them. And move them he can. Every 48 hours he will spin brooms into gold and be back for more. In fact, no matter what you throw at the old Breton, he will not only purchase it, but he will boast about his ability to sell it. For him, none of it is ever, ever junk.

Some might say this is a gameplay device, and like the 7000 steps to High Hrothgar, not something you take literally. Others will contend the dialogue for Belethor, where he repeatedly talks about the value of trash, is there specifically to imply the goods are being moved. And whether you believe one or the other will dictate whether Eldar thrives, or starves.

In this sense, the economics of the world are often determined by player choices. If you are the kind of person who chooses to play realistically, you might withhold selling Belethor piles of junk, effectively turning him into an ordinary merchant. However, if you take advantage of the loopholes in the gameplay, raising your speechcraft and stocking his store every week with hundreds of dirty bowls and brooms, then you are essentially creating a world where Belethor has the ability to sell them. A world where he is more than happy to sell his home for twice the value in junk.

Eldar talks about playing the market, and how it can affect what kind of junk Belethor is willing to buy. What Eldar doesn’t realize is the market, for all its whims and vagaries, is ultimately determined by one person, and one person alone. You.

When we all transfer our DNA into hard drives and live in a virtual paradise, the one thing that is certain is that it will be full of beautiful people. Sure, there will be times when we all get bored of being hunky/sexy supermodels and role play a club-footed midget, but for the most part we are lazy and it is simply easier to live our daily lives as a more ideal version of ourselves.

We will all be beautiful. We will all be confident, for whatever weaknesses we had could be erased with the appropriate software. We will all be more or less perfect.

While there’s a Stepford-ian quality to such a utopia, this is not a bad thing. There will still be diversity, it will simply come from our various interpretations of beauty. There will also be Orcs and Khajiit and Fairies and Hobbitses, and that outweighs any fears of the kind of banality we now associate with the suburbs. In fact, the analogy probably works better in reverse. The virtual world will be full of breasts, beauty, beasts, and blood. It will be total hyperbole, and we will forget all the plain ol’ folks we left back in the real one.

The modding world is but a teaser for this dichotomy.  It adds to Skyrim hordes and hordes of beautiful, talented, badasses and quirky, adorable companions. For creators of smaller NPC mods, it makes sense, as there’s a marketing aspect to consider.  However, if you combine them all together, what you end up with is a Skyrim less like it was intended to be, and more like our virtual playground of the future.

That is to say, no one will want to download a companion mod featuring an insecure, submissive man with a bird for a haircut. In a vacuum, this person would not stand out. However, in a world full of beautiful, amazing, and eccentric people, the universe’s last pathetic weakling seems almost refreshing, and Nitter (Tom Shortridge) is all kinds of pathetic.

While Hjoromir‘s weaknesses are almost masked by his unwavering bravado, Nitter is no such thing. He is an obvious submissive, making himself an easy target in a city full of cutthroats. For the PC, Jaree-Ra is at best a partner and at worst someone entirely beneath you. For Nitter, he’s a chance for acceptance. He’s a friend. So while all the warning signs are there, he chooses to ignore them. Moreover, he has an incentive to ignore them. It’s not so much the loneliness that drives him, as he’s become numb to the feeling. It’s the joy of having someone muss his hair, even when the fingers are coarse. Nitter will commit crimes, he will act against his own interests, because for him, nothing was as euphoric as that feeling he belonged.

Which is why the only cure for his destructive behavior was true acceptance. In Ma’zaka, he found someone who not only forgave him, but understood him. After all those years cooped up in an old lighthouse, perhaps they needed each other. Sure, the relationship mirrors a mentor and his student, but in terms of their friendship, Ma’zaka is the first person to ever see Nitter as a peer. So while the pairing may not be perfect, and there will be days they annoy each other, in the end, having each other’s company is something they both find ideal.