From the article archive
Rogue Thoughts: The Cuckoo
The Cuckoo
A very ingenious animal, though some might say lazy, the European cuckoo is what biologists term a “social parasite”. While there are a few different varieties of cuckoo, the European cuckoo basis its propagation off of the labor of other bird species. A cuckoo will lay its egg in another bird’s nest. They have been known to lay upwards of 20 eggs in as many different nests. Not just any bird nest will do though. Each female cuckoo lays eggs that resemble those of another bird species. The European cuckoo (Cuculus canorus) parasitizes eleven different bird species on a regular basis, and cuckoo eggs have been found in the nests of a hundred different bird species. When the cuckoo egg hatches, the owner’s of the nest usually end up raising the baby cuckoo.
This kind of survival strategy doesn’t sound too insidious, right? Well, at least not until we add a little murder and mayhem into the mix. The female cuckoo usually destroys or carries off at least one egg when she lays her own. If the baby cuckoo hatches before its nest mates, it takes the opportunity to stack the odds of survival in its favor. Doing the best Fireman’s Carry that one can manage with wings, the baby cuckoo systematically disposes of its adopted siblings by pushing the eggs out of the nest while the duped parents are away. Should the baby cuckoo not have the opportunity to “off” all of its nest mates while they remain in their shells, it has no qualms about shoving them overboard after they hatch. Since cuckoos are usually quite a bit larger than the species they freeload from, brute strength usually prevails. Their larger size not only helps them dispose of the competition it ensures that the bulk of available food falls into the cuckoo’s mouth. The adopted parents often run themselves ragged attempting to keep the young cuckoo well fed.
In myth and legend, social parasites take on monstrous form. Coincidentally, the games we play often draw upon real world myth for the horrors that our characters encounter. Vampires, zombies, changelings, and doppelgangers, all these and more await the careless or unlucky character in our game worlds.
Frankly though, I’m not very concerned about our characters at the moment. I want to focus on the players. The most entertaining and memorable game sessions I’ve ever been a part of were those where the in-game action had an emotional effect on the players. That kind of involvement doesn’t just magically appear when the characters are poked, prodded, or cut in half. There has to be something more, something that effects the player on a visceral level. For many people, myself included, that visceral pull is often the result of opposing a well played social parasite.
A horde of zombies is driven solely by the desire to feed, which is in itself a little disturbing, and shows no strategy or coordinated action. But I’ve gotten the same queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach from being the victim of the diabolical machinations of an insane changeling that I have facing zombie hordes. A social parasite certainly doesn’t have to exhibit intelligence or cunning to draw a strong reaction. So what is it about social parasites that can cause paranoia, scramble our wits, and put a lump in our throats? Not surprisingly, I have a theory.
In general, human beings apply a sacred status to their individuality. Any assault on our identity, any breech in that sense of self, causes warning lights to go off and sirens begin to howl. Our uniqueness, our free will and self image are all under siege when faced with a social parasite. The may want to kill their victims also, but they don’t stop there. A social parasite will steal your identity completely, or at least make you one of them. While only our characters have to face being victimized by monstrous social parasites, I believe that the symbolic power of the violation carries over to us, the players, and we become uneasy, defensive, and more deeply involved with the in-game action.
Agree? Disagree? Think this article stinks worse than a womp rat’s ass? Leave a comment on the articles page or head to the Article Discussion forum and let it all out. You’ll feel better.
A very ingenious animal, though some might say lazy, the European cuckoo is what biologists term a “social parasite”. While there are a few different varieties of cuckoo, the European cuckoo basis its propagation off of the labor of other bird species. A cuckoo will lay its egg in another bird’s nest. They have been known to lay upwards of 20 eggs in as many different nests. Not just any bird nest will do though. Each female cuckoo lays eggs that resemble those of another bird species. The European cuckoo (Cuculus canorus) parasitizes eleven different bird species on a regular basis, and cuckoo eggs have been found in the nests of a hundred different bird species. When the cuckoo egg hatches, the owner’s of the nest usually end up raising the baby cuckoo.
This kind of survival strategy doesn’t sound too insidious, right? Well, at least not until we add a little murder and mayhem into the mix. The female cuckoo usually destroys or carries off at least one egg when she lays her own. If the baby cuckoo hatches before its nest mates, it takes the opportunity to stack the odds of survival in its favor. Doing the best Fireman’s Carry that one can manage with wings, the baby cuckoo systematically disposes of its adopted siblings by pushing the eggs out of the nest while the duped parents are away. Should the baby cuckoo not have the opportunity to “off” all of its nest mates while they remain in their shells, it has no qualms about shoving them overboard after they hatch. Since cuckoos are usually quite a bit larger than the species they freeload from, brute strength usually prevails. Their larger size not only helps them dispose of the competition it ensures that the bulk of available food falls into the cuckoo’s mouth. The adopted parents often run themselves ragged attempting to keep the young cuckoo well fed.
In myth and legend, social parasites take on monstrous form. Coincidentally, the games we play often draw upon real world myth for the horrors that our characters encounter. Vampires, zombies, changelings, and doppelgangers, all these and more await the careless or unlucky character in our game worlds.
Frankly though, I’m not very concerned about our characters at the moment. I want to focus on the players. The most entertaining and memorable game sessions I’ve ever been a part of were those where the in-game action had an emotional effect on the players. That kind of involvement doesn’t just magically appear when the characters are poked, prodded, or cut in half. There has to be something more, something that effects the player on a visceral level. For many people, myself included, that visceral pull is often the result of opposing a well played social parasite.
A horde of zombies is driven solely by the desire to feed, which is in itself a little disturbing, and shows no strategy or coordinated action. But I’ve gotten the same queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach from being the victim of the diabolical machinations of an insane changeling that I have facing zombie hordes. A social parasite certainly doesn’t have to exhibit intelligence or cunning to draw a strong reaction. So what is it about social parasites that can cause paranoia, scramble our wits, and put a lump in our throats? Not surprisingly, I have a theory.
In general, human beings apply a sacred status to their individuality. Any assault on our identity, any breech in that sense of self, causes warning lights to go off and sirens begin to howl. Our uniqueness, our free will and self image are all under siege when faced with a social parasite. The may want to kill their victims also, but they don’t stop there. A social parasite will steal your identity completely, or at least make you one of them. While only our characters have to face being victimized by monstrous social parasites, I believe that the symbolic power of the violation carries over to us, the players, and we become uneasy, defensive, and more deeply involved with the in-game action.
Agree? Disagree? Think this article stinks worse than a womp rat’s ass? Leave a comment on the articles page or head to the Article Discussion forum and let it all out. You’ll feel better.
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