Lies, Dirty Lies, and Propaganda

[HamsterIV]

Muse has given us a world with 6 factions. Each faction has to convinced its people that war with the other factions is justifiable. Enter the hard working propaganda minster, who through clever words and outright lies, justifies their nation's struggle against the outsiders.

As a fun writing project come up with some creative slander about one of 6 factions. Tell us about their secretive past. Why they are responsible for the fall of humanity. How their current leadership is unfit to rule. How their people are weak, cowardly, and deserving of conquest. As a bonus try to write from the point of view of one of the other factions and sign your work as that faction's propaganda minister.

We are not trying to establish any lore here, and are most certainly not trying to hurt anyone's feelings. Keep it fun and keep it silly. Here are some examples:

For all we know Chaladon could be ruled by a vast thinking machine that was created prior to the cataclysm that turned much of the the world to ash. Perhaps this thinking machine controlled a network of skybound vessels. A Skynet if you will. It recognized the feuding nations would one day destroy the entire planet and decided it would give the process a kickstart. All the while preserving an isolated island that housed its central core.

Sadly this machine miscalculated the durability of its physical systems and after a few decades was in sore need of maintenance. It tricked a small population of refugees that washed up on its shores into thinking it was a god and used their agile human fingers to clean and maintain its internal systems. The Skynet used its advanced knowledge of human psychology and agriculture to cultivate its people and its island into a garden of Eden.

Ultimately all Chaledonians are slaves to a homicidal machine god. They do not understand the technology which they serve, but accept its control because it has allowed them to lead lives of abundance. Without the influence of their mechanical overmind they are a weak people only suitable for enslavement and pillaging.

Sincerely Yours,

The Angelean Propaganda Ministry

Have you ever wondered how the Angeleans could survive in their vast arctic tundra? They say they harness thermal energy from within the earth, but that is a lie. No human could stand the noxious gasses and extreme temperature differences.

Any child knows all human life needs food grown in the light of the sun to provide the nutrients for good health. Yet the sun rarely shines on the Angelea's domain. I posit to you that the Angeleans aren't really human, but a race of Lizard people from the center of the earth. Our two races lived in blissful ignorance of one another until pre cataclysm man kind's greed for fossil fuel caused them to drill too deep.

Any records of mankind's contact with the lizard people have been lost but reputable schollars believe a cast of these Lizard people carry the Chamelion's color shifting ability. They no doubt  used it to infiltrate pre cataclysm human society with the intention of turning man on his fellow man. Ultimately this precipitated the great war that nearly destroyed this planet's fragile eco system. Were it not for the guidance of Chaladon's founding fathers and the lizard people's inherent fear of great bodies of water this planet would have been overrun by a scourge of lizard people.

Do not trust the Angelean's promise of shelter and meaningful labor in their underground cities, the lizard people look upon humanity as a food stock and nothing more. That is right, your friends, family, and neighbors who were taken in Angelean raids now rest comfortably inside the bellies of those forked tongued fiends.

Next time you see one of those lumbering brutes wrapped in their furs and armor look closely for scales and reptilian eyes. Then you will know the truth, Angeleans are not to be trusted.

Respectfully,
 
The Chaledon Ministry for Truth.

[HamsterIV]

The so called Yeshan "Empire" claims to be a meritocracy where even the lowest born thrall can aspire to own land and title. Yet one must wonder what trait could merit such a rise in status? Could it be Loyalty, Honor, Compassion? No, it is the first of their "Guiding Principals:" Ambition.

Their culture is despite its outwardly ordered appearance is a seething mess of political backstabbing, corruption, and envy. Everyone from the lowest farmer to the grandest admiral has one eye coveting the position above them, and the other eye wary of the underlings yearning to unseat them.

With both eyes occupied acquiring or maintaining their status they are blind to the past and the horrors that brought the downfall of mankind. It was the ancestors of the Yeshan who forged alliance on top of alliance with neighboring countries so that they would not have to send their own sons and daughters to war. Yet this diplomatic house of cards could not stand its own weight and collapsed into the war that burned the planet.

Our ancestors bore the brunt of this war, serving with honor on the front lines. Their ancestors grew fat and wealthy selling ever more destructive weapons to both sides. In the end our ancestors realized they could only trust men and women of honor and not empty ideals spouted by the greedy and corrupt. By then we had turned much of the world to ash in our rage.

While the fleet and resources of the Yeshan seem great they are not a unified fighting force. Each soldier, sailor, and officer is fighting for their own advancement. Their engineers will not expose themselves to fire so that they can reach critical components mid battle. Their gunners will not target a hostile ship with an ally if their own ship is in immediate danger. Their pilots will not ram an enemy's guns off angle to rescue an injured comrade. Just like their perfidious ancestors the modern day Yeshan lack the commitment of true soldiers.

Stand firm with your lords sons and daughters of the Baronies. The Yeshan menace may seem as numerous as the waves of the ocean, but just like the waves of the ocean they will crash and break against the rocky Fjords of our native land.

For the Honor of our Ancestors,

Arch Herald of the Fjord Baronies

[Indreams]

The Fjord Baronies pride itself to have come from ancient nobility, dating back to the Great War. They promise to be the lords and the protectors of their people. This, my friends, is a lie.

When you meet a Baron, ask him to prove his "noble" lineage. You'll be able to count his ancient ancestors in your hands.

And ask what is noble about his lineage. The scholars rummaging through the great Archive of our empires have discovered that these so-called "Barons" descend from cruel, bloodthirsty and insane power-maniacs and murderers and war-criminals. They promise peace, but they are living representation of violence and madness of the Old World.

The Barons promise to defend their citizens. Do not be deceived. You, the citizen of our glorious empire, live comfortably within the walls of cities, in good weather, under just rule, and with many opportunities. They, the citizens of the false Baronies, live in unprotected hamlets, freezing in the cold, beset by raiders and pirates, and with no chance to improve their status. Know this my citizens, you live in the best and the safest place the world can provide.

Friends, know that the seeming magnificence of the Fjord Baronies can only be false.

Stand firm with the Yesha empire. The treachery of Barons is a treachery only we can defeat.

May your ambition be rewarded.

碩虎, 偉大的學者 of Yesha Empire.

[RedRoach]

My friend,

I hear you find the recent pact with Yesha to be a most agreeable idea, and for the moment, I believe that too. But only for the moment, to get back at those who caused our losses. Do you really, truly, want to become a slave, a worker in the field for those oppressive rulers? I would consider your options carefully once our revenge is complete.

Being a scavenger is what they labeled me as, a picker of trash, he who goes and kills without discretion just to get the scrap off of their ships. They see me, no, our entire way of pushing forward with the technology of the past, as simply seeing if we can make the most grotesque death possible for our enemies. You know me, and my... ah, lack for sincerity. But I hinge on the truth when I say that death is not what we live for. We live to advance, to grow, to outclass these men who believe that sheer manpower could trump tech.

I have read stories from books of those in bunkers hidden throughout the Dusty Plains, and I've found what I think they work like. You wouldn't understand, and I won't lie when I say they don't exist anymore, but I think with their desire to become a strict orderly nation, they're beginning to wane with their decisons, letting a ruler dictate how they live. Maybe now, that ruler is looking towards our advanatage. But should we permanetly join with those... ugh, Yeshans, then they'll begin to attempt to push their authority over us. And soon, we'll all be underneath the heel of a single man who decides on a dime if you should die on a spike, in front of a gatling, or underneath the cannons of a Scylla Mortar.

From your friend in Anglea,

(The message stops there. Smudge marks lie where the name should be.)

[Indreams]

Our scholars have recently unearthed historic documents that mentions barbaric pillagers who pestered our ancestors. These savages were called Mongols.

Mongols were savage people, with no language nor civilization. They lived in inhospitable steppes of the North. They refused to make an honest living but raided villages for man-flesh to devour.
They said, and I quote word for word:

The greatest joy for a man is to defeat his enemies, to drive them before him, to take from them all they possess, to see those they love in tears, to ride their airships, and to hold their wives and daughters in his arms.

The evil barbarians! They deserve only the most abhorred death!

Our ancestors built a Great Wall to defend themselves. It was an architectural wonder, designed by the best masons and bureaucrats of the time, but it not enough to stop the savages. When the walls crumbled, the Mongols took over the entire world.

They brought about an reign of chaos. Murder, hunger, and rape became commonplace. They beheaded entire cities for "entertainment". They burned books and buried alive scholars. It was a dark age for mankind.

My fellow citizens. Let us learn from the mistake of our ancestors. It is not enough to the keep pillagers at bay. We must eradicate them, clear the danger from the face of the earth.

Arm your Galleons and fly north. For your Ambition and Empire's Honor, destroy the Angleans!

May your ambitions be rewarded.

碩虎, 偉大的學者 of Yesha Empire.

[HamsterIV]

Trade is the life blood of a humanity, and just like the blood that courses through our veins it carries what is in abundance to where it is in need. Be it Angelean Manufactured Goods, Yeshan Silks, Barony Fish Oils, or Chalidonian Foodstuffs, our fellow nations contribute something to the overall good of humanity. They are like separate organs they each producing a vital humor and we are the blood which flows between them keeping everything in balance.

Yet there are some who take and take with no intention of giving back. I speak of course of the cancer that lives among us, the Arashi League. They live like parasites stealing just enough to stay alive and scurrying for cover when ever the host takes notice. They profit by keeping the other nations at war with each other through a mixture of lies and false flag raids. It is only when the great nations are thus distracted that a cancer like the Arashi can grow and spread.

Considering the lifeless expanse in which they live, it boggles the mind how these urchins could find enough food and water to sustain life. In recent years a new theory has come to light. They eat the flesh and drink the blood of the dead. It may sound like madness, but ask yourself "Doesn't it take madness to want to live in so barren an environment?"

Fear not noble tradesman, for though the Arashi is without morals or even a human soul, they are poorly versed in the art of war. They do not need to be as their desert is a greater foe to an airship than any bullet, rocket, or shell. An Arashi ship may fire a rocket or two at a convoy, but it is just a lure to pull the escort into a dust storm. Once out of sight the Arashi go to anchor and let the savage winds and biting sand do their dirty work for them. So long as one sticks to guild approved trade routes and not venture after the odd Arashi Pirate traversing the desert sands can be a safe and profitable experience.

To a profitable venture,

The Guild Bureau of Foreign Affairs

[RedRoach]

Partner,

I have seen your letter telling me your concern of your current alliance. I find such a thing to be a pity. Even if the nation I've grown to accept flies against you this day, there are others I worry far more than any other. The Chaladonians around me whisper rumors of Arashi fleets flying around, blowing up both of our armadas without mercy or merit. They live to kill, and destroy, and slaughter. I understand that is what you believe my job is, but my contracts are much more refined of an art than to mow down my foes with a gatling onto my enemies.

These Arashi members are the very core of barbarism, the ones that cleave through bone and bullet for the feeling they call bloodlust. Step but a hair into their space, and you will be obliterated where  you stand. If not by their gunners using rockets several kilometers away, then by the dust storms that they call home. Such a volatile enviroment has enriched their kind with the will to murder, to pass on their tradition of death forward onto the rest of the world. They seek to help spread the destruction they've suffered onto the rest of us, so that they themselves may feel redeemed. To put it simply enough that you can understand and spread; They're the embodiment of the very sandstorms they were born from.

No one can stand in the way of the Arashi League, who bathes in the blood of it's foes. Sandstorms, flying about, maybe even the one that has wrecked your poor squid on the simple practice run outside of the city airspace. There is only one way to truly make the skies safe for all, even a man of my expertise due to their unpredictability, and that is to crush these barbaric monsters under our heel. I feel your rage at the Fjiord Baronies at the moment, but a more pressing matter awaits us under the dunes.

Signed,

ߘ∆˚∫ˆ´ø∑¬ƒ

[Indreams]

A report of the final words of a Arashi chieftain, as recorded by his son.

----------------------------------------------

My sons, I've lived countless years, fought in countless wars, and defended my pride countless times. Now, as I lay dying, I'd like to pass down my wisdom. Listen well.

We are born with nothing but our freedom. We die possessing nothing but our freedom. Freedom is your innate right. Freedom is tied to your life. Defend your freedom as you defend your life.

To this end, do not be led astray by the Chaladon. Their mysterious utopia is like a mirage of a desert. It'll lure you to your death.

We are born on the sand. We die on the sand. The hardship of the desert is our lot. It is not a pleasant lot, but it is the righteous lot. Hardship tempers body and mind. Rusted metal must be scrubbed, heated, and beaten to become a bullet, a gun, and a ship. We must be challenged by the desert to become great men.

To this end, know that the Guild are pigs. Disgusting pigs. They are only loyal to wealth. They'd sell their mother for few bits of scrap. It is just that we punish these slime.

----------------------------------------------

At this point, the chief went into a fit of cough. He spoke no more afterward.

[HamsterIV]

A wise man once said "To dwell upon the past is to squander the future." No where are those words more appropriate than to describe the backward conclave of the Fjord Baronies. Here ancient superstitions and barbaric customs have fused into a culture that can no longer function in the modern world.

Instead of laws and reason the people of the Baronies are bound to the whims of hereditary despots. Each citizen must swear an oath to a lord and submit to every craven desire of that individual on pain on death. To maintain legitimacy each lord must prove a familial connection to the ancient founders of the Baronies. This lead to a program of inbreeding so pervasive that the current crop of "Barons" are nothing but physically and mentally stunted homunculi more suited to the carnival freak show than positions of power.

Even the source material for the Fjord's nobility is suspect. Records show the first "Barons" were renegade generals bent on perpetuating an endless war for personal gain. It was they who scorched the earth and poisoned the sea to prevent the population from ever growing past the state where their personal charisma and bloody handed rule could keep humanity in line.

The soldiers of the Baronies act in constant fear of their lord's disapproval. Any hint of cowardice or disloyalty could mean death not just for them but their entire family. The military is so dependent on its cult of personality that entire fleets are put to route the moment the Lord in charge of it is killed. Under such circumstances we occasionally see Barony ships fire on one another. One can only assume that the Barron's sniveling offspring war amongst themselves to determine who will inherit the now vacant title.

May the shining path forever guide you,

Provost of Foreign Studies,
Yeshan Central University

[HamsterIV]

Those who make their home outside the sacred Arashi desert grow fat and idle, but none more so that the corpulent denizens of the Mercantile Guild. They sit in their walled cities consuming food and luxury goods acquired by swindling those who are unfortunate enough to trade with them. Any who refused to be duped by these greedy mongrels are robbed at gunpoint under the pretense of "breach of contract."

The Guild's reliance on contracts, treaties, and other meaningless scraps of paper are an indicator of a people with no soul. Where a mother would demand compensation before giving her child milk. Where the wisdom of the tribes elders are locked away from all but those wealthy enough to buy it. The guild do not even bother resolving their own disputes, instead they purchase fleets of hired guns to impose their will on others.

These hired guns, like their masters, are loyal to money above all else. They can easily  be convinced to give up the chase if the air becomes too sandy for their delicate machines, or if the cost of fuel exceeds the bounty they hope to receive. They do not care to uphold the honor of their family and bring vendetta against those who have wronged their brothers or sisters. As far as a Guild sailor is concerned the man standing to their left and right are competitors for the post mission spoils.

The guild is incapable of surviving on its own. It needs to be constantly expanding its trade relations and spheres of influence. If for a moment it were to stop, the complex web of economic interdependency would collapse in on itself like a water starved pack animal. We need only wait a little longer for the guild's foolishness to doom itself. Then we can descend and pick the carcass clean.

May the desert winds be favorable
Elder Mott of the Arashi

[RedRoach]

Hey friend,

I just wanna let you know that there are other trading partners more wise than the Mercantile Guild. You think trading might be an excellent idea with their influence at your fingers, but Angleans here all agree with me when I say that it's not them you're using, it's them that's using you. You think that they're all trustworthy people, someone to fly with and expect to share profits simply because you hold their banner high? You don't know the wonders a tongue can spin.

Any merchant worth his salt, or hell, gold, considering that's all they care about, is gonna want to make a profit, and that derives driving a profit up with a silver tongue. The thing is, they don't stop at diplomacy. They have to be able to speak many different languages, be able to lie and deceive, undermine the competition, all in order to create their economic supremacy. If it wouldn't put them all in danger, I'd bet you they'd lie and cheat their way into the coffers of every single town, nation, and kingdom there is, even that small hamlet you call home. You simply just can't trust them.

Anyone who believes themselves safe should keep an eye out for a well-twisted lie. A Mercantile Guild member can easily influence himself into the realms of our privacy, stealing away all our money and commodities. I fear that, secretly, that has been their plan all along: not to gain a economic advantage, but to make us trade with them so reliably and commonly, that when they deny us trade, their installments through our nations will render everyone in disrepair. There is only one way to put them down, and that is with the gun.

From your friend,
 
(The name is heavily smudged, rendering it unreadable.)

[Indreams]

"a divided power in the state is impotent and at odds with itself ... if power was delegated for short periods only, it was so uncertain as to discourage any prolonged undertakings or wide-reaching plans ... for a great nation the only salvation lies in hereditary power, which can alone assure a continuous political life which may endure for generations, even for centuries."

-fragmented document discovered by Fjord librarians-


(This is from "Napoleon's Reasons for Making Himself an Emperor")

[ShadedExalt]

Greetings, Mercenary.  I welcome you to the Guild, and I can assure you that you have made the right choice by accepting our contract.  No other power has as many resources and ships availible to them.  But you see, the filthy Arashi rats want nothing more than to take everything we've worked so hard for away.  Not only to use it for themselves, but simply because they can.  Do not be fooled by their 'Honor' and 'Freedom'.  No, they are lies designed to lure you in until they can scour away and snatch up everything you are, everything you own, and everything you stand for, like the storms of dust that rage over the hellpit they call a nation.  Remember, friend, that one must never trust an Arashi rat.  Now go, and wipe out as many as you can.  I hope you find our partnership to be profitable...

[Recording of a High-Level Merchant in the Guild talking to their latest mercenary.  Please hand off to the next member of our glorious empire's spy network.  May the Shining Path forever guide you.]

[HamsterIV]

Brothers and Sisters of the Fjords I am sure you have noticed a decline in the quantity and quality of fish being brought in from the great sea. Every day more fishing boats leave our harbors and yet our fish markets are looking more barren than ever. Clearly some perfidious force is at work and we have to look no further than our Chaledonian neighbors.

We have all witnessed or heard tales of Chaledonian tech sorcery making barren land fertile again, but at what price? Those nutrients they infuse the soil with don't come from thin air, in fact they come from the sea. Using some form of witchcraft the Chaledonian have been depleting our fishing reserves to advance their own agriculture industry.

As our population grows with the influx of refugees, Chaledon seeks to impose a lopsided trade relationship that will ultimately lead to our enslavement. We must strike now while we still have the resources to overwhelm these Chaledonian leaches. Every day we delay Chaledon grows a little stronger at our expense. How long before even our mighty king must scrape and beg for the table scraps of a Chaledonian banquet?

To the Honor of our Ancestors,

The Fjord Minister of Commerce

[Charon]

Thought I'd leave this here for you guys.

"Here are five basic rules of propaganda, courtesy of Norman Davies in his extraordinary book "Europe: A History":

The rule of simplification: reducing all data to a simple confrontation between 'Good and Bad', 'Friend and Foe'.

The rule of disfiguration: discrediting the opposition by crude smears and parodies.

The rule of transfusion: manipulating the consensus values of the target audience for one's own ends.

The rule of unanimity: presenting one's viewpoint as if it were the unanimous opinion of all right-thinking people: draining the doubting individual into agreement by the appeal of star-performers, by social pressure, and by 'psychological contagion'.

The rule of orchestration: endlessly repeating the same messages in different variations and combinations."