How often do you think about the hivedoms of old? A queen, worshipped by a hundred coalescent drones, is more goddess than flesh: undying, but ever-decaying. No blade can wound an idea, but faults of mortal memory might. If you cannot remember your complete lineage, then I must recount these five.
does impersonation entail continuity of consciousness?
First, the flavor and framing. You go to sleep as normal, but when you awaken, you find yourself transported to a dark, underground lair, all tunnels and chitinous furnishing, ornamented with distended protuberances and segmented geometries. You glance around for any indication of what’s going on, and then… Your abductors reveal themselves as changelings who’ve been surveilling you and those around to you for several years. One of the changelings you can see has already copied your face. After all, they have extensive observational data draw on.
Whether it’s Worm or Worth the Candle, thoughtful stories often take power quantity to the logical extreme. Unique abilities are everywhere; the whole setting is lousy with them. But does this hold up to scrutiny? How do you even write such sheer abundance? One good idea requires creativity. A million requires statistics.
When you reblog a post on tumblr, you create a new post. It’s one of the weirder parts of how that hellsite is implemented. In programming terms, this is the difference between passing by reference and passing by value. On other sites, sharing a post is just a fancy way of linking to it. If the original gets deleted, it’s gone. Unless you saved a screenshot.
the unquestioned assumptions of parahuman abilities
A friend mentioned how frustrating it is to try to come up with powers, only to realize “Worm already did that,” and the exercise becomes less fun as a result of that lack of novelty. I can sympathize. I’m not the only one to notice that parahuman powers have a particular flavor or to grapple with it while trying to generate powers . But I don’t find myself worrying about copying Worm. (In part, this is because I have often copied Worm on purpose; the lack of originally doesn’t stop me) but I also don’t feel that I’m recapitulating Worm when I don’t want to. But am I right to think that?
First, let me reintroduce Newcomb’s Problem. For this thought experiment, imagine there is a predictor capable of observing human behavior and correctly deducing how one will behave in the future. Maybe this predictor has psychic powers, or is really good at reading body language. I often see it described as a superintelligent AI system. More on that later.
Ego Necromancy in Squiggle's Essays7.6k words 2026-06-02
on the dissolution of the self in collective minds
What are hiveminds made of? Interconnected minds, obviously. Or is it more complicated than that? Are selves more than illusion — a mere cope for apes pretending to be human? Perhaps truly picking the brain of hivemind means studying ego death and decomposition.
A chrylurk is a swarm within a swarm: each one a mortal’s corpse twisted in metamorphosis then possessed and puppeted by mosquitoes, spiders and slugs; each a thread in the ghostly web woven to ensnare the collective in a grand eusocial symphony. It is nearly as infeasible to describe a chrylurk as to describe a tree. One could gesture vaguely — a trunk with branches with leaves — but the exact arrangement is never repeated, subject to the vagaries of life-history.
The way I usually explain how alchemy works is the existence of two magical substances. Essence is the fundamental basis of alchemy, and it arises from the dreams and desires of a conscious brain. Why this is so is oft-considered one of the great mysteries of the world. But essence is innately unstable and reactive; whenever it comes into contact with physical matter, combustion-subsumption results and together they create limina.
does impersonation entail continuity of consciousness?
First, the flavor and framing. You go to sleep as normal, but when you awaken, you find yourself transported to a dark, underground lair, all tunnels and chitinous furnishing, ornamented with distended protuberances and segmented geometries. You glance around for any indication of what’s going on, and then… Your abductors reveal themselves as changelings who’ve been surveilling you and those around to you for several years. One of the changelings you can see has already copied your face. After all, they have extensive observational data draw on.
Whether it’s Worm or Worth the Candle, thoughtful stories often take power quantity to the logical extreme. Unique abilities are everywhere; the whole setting is lousy with them. But does this hold up to scrutiny? How do you even write such sheer abundance? One good idea requires creativity. A million requires statistics.
When you reblog a post on tumblr, you create a new post. It’s one of the weirder parts of how that hellsite is implemented. In programming terms, this is the difference between passing by reference and passing by value. On other sites, sharing a post is just a fancy way of linking to it. If the original gets deleted, it’s gone. Unless you saved a screenshot.
the unquestioned assumptions of parahuman abilities
A friend mentioned how frustrating it is to try to come up with powers, only to realize “Worm already did that,” and the exercise becomes less fun as a result of that lack of novelty. I can sympathize. I’m not the only one to notice that parahuman powers have a particular flavor or to grapple with it while trying to generate powers . But I don’t find myself worrying about copying Worm. (In part, this is because I have often copied Worm on purpose; the lack of originally doesn’t stop me) but I also don’t feel that I’m recapitulating Worm when I don’t want to. But am I right to think that?
First, let me reintroduce Newcomb’s Problem. For this thought experiment, imagine there is a predictor capable of observing human behavior and correctly deducing how one will behave in the future. Maybe this predictor has psychic powers, or is really good at reading body language. I often see it described as a superintelligent AI system. More on that later.
Ego Necromancy in Squiggle's Essays7.6k words 2026-06-02
on the dissolution of the self in collective minds
What are hiveminds made of? Interconnected minds, obviously. Or is it more complicated than that? Are selves more than illusion — a mere cope for apes pretending to be human? Perhaps truly picking the brain of hivemind means studying ego death and decomposition.
imagine a omniscient god-like entity, or some hypertechnological race, or anything of the sort really — this is just the background premise that isn’t too important. what matters is the profound accumulated knowledge they have access to amounts to a near-perfect fidelity data-mapping of an entire world. they know the location of every atom and electron on the planet and beyond. but there’s a problem: this is too much information. what can you actually do with all that? you don’t care about a cloud of a trillion atoms, you care about the objects and what they’re doing.
a well-known bad way to write about nonhuman characters is using mere synonyms . this is what it meant by accusing someone of “calling a rabbit a smeerp.” the writer uses a weird alien term for a familiar concept as a way of evoking its ostensible alienness. but nothing about how they use the concept is alien. it, to speak in oft-trod writing jargon, is telling instead of showing .
How often do you think about the hivedoms of old? A queen, worshipped by a hundred coalescent drones, is more goddess than flesh: undying, but ever-decaying. No blade can wound an idea, but faults of mortal memory might. If you cannot remember your complete lineage, then I must recount these five.
A chrylurk is a swarm within a swarm: each one a mortal’s corpse twisted in metamorphosis then possessed and puppeted by mosquitoes, spiders and slugs; each a thread in the ghostly web woven to ensnare the collective in a grand eusocial symphony. It is nearly as infeasible to describe a chrylurk as to describe a tree. One could gesture vaguely — a trunk with branches with leaves — but the exact arrangement is never repeated, subject to the vagaries of life-history.
The way I usually explain how alchemy works is the existence of two magical substances. Essence is the fundamental basis of alchemy, and it arises from the dreams and desires of a conscious brain. Why this is so is oft-considered one of the great mysteries of the world. But essence is innately unstable and reactive; whenever it comes into contact with physical matter, combustion-subsumption results and together they create limina.
A veil softly clad the swamp, delivering it from desolation. The chrylurk foundress perched centermost of the web she’d woven. Her claws lightly brushed at the silk drawn atop of rotting log, combing away pollen grains and morning dew. Once, wizenblight had befestered this land to its very depths. The rot of all things, turning soul against itself, were no more than an abortive mockery of parascixion, but perhaps it spreads so far and wide for that very simplicity.
Serivane was silk that had evanesced beyond the veil that separates the physical and the ephemeral. At least, that was the theory. This Hive we name Ravaging-With-Downpour was built in the caverns behind a grand waterfall at the very rim of the highlands. Serivane ghosted through stone just fine, but running water? The threads always seemed to fray a little bit faster faster.
—O Rancor? Line? (No response.) Where’d you scuttle off to? Noon sun floated high, but clouds and mist left the grasslands awash in gray. In faint wind, the land roiled like an lake with sharp green waves. The stalks didn’t reach her katathorax — dangerous place for the hive to operate, but such was the only territory left to claim. By rule, all who left the tunnels by day wore concealing cloaks — and only the upright castes even got that honor. That Trist was granted such a privilege stung like the slightest of insults.
To Furtive Niona : Oh, miserably do I pick up the pen once more. To think, exscient I was, this exercise ever brought me any mote of joy or satisfaction! How could anyone descry these limp squiggles of ink and find in this anything but locus of limitation and confusion? I have begun this piece in the posture of a rant, then proceeded accordingly — and that alone is evidence enough of the deficiency, I think. The indignity of a beginning! The insult of a linear procession!
Related Works in Vermin Cathexis843 words 2026-03-18
Vermin Cathexis
It bears mention this project has drunk from many sources to sustain its inspiration, cannibalizing both our own past works and lifting concepts from other media — hopefully with meaningful innovation! Some popular culture osmosis goes without saying: the changelings from My Little Pony and the xenomorphs from Alien are very distinct touchstones. Taylor’s swarm abilities in Worm , or the focus on silk and weavers in Hollow Knight: Silksong also undeniably left a mark on this creation.