SarosInfinity wrote: By assuming the possibility of another layer of paper, it means you sort of know that there’s gotta be something hidden you’re not sensing; though that certain something might be beyond your reach. UNLESS, you think like a witch-hunter. Left, right, up, down? Pshhh, 2 dimensional. Try going inwards or outwards instead. Yeah, that’s… that’s just called moving in three dimensions. It’s not exactly a witchhunter-tier accomplishment. You’ve actually been doing it a lot out here, you just don’t have a second mind’s eye for depth perception. The entire point of the “separate sheet of paper” analogy was that each “sheet” represented a whole three-dimensional universe. If you’re right, it doesn’t matter how far inward, outward, up, down, left or right you reach your little magicka line – you’d never reach across into the “next sheet” because it’s not in any of those directions. Rather than literally being on top of eachother like a stack of paper, the planes people summon help from would be lined up in some fourth dimension. And unlike a needle poking through papers, you can’t imagine what something reaching perpendicularly through multiple universes would even look like.

Felaeris wrote: You said they’re supposed to be holes in the Aetherius, right? IF we’re traveling on a flat sheet (in two dimensions) and falling through a ‘hole’ carries us to a third, a dimension perpendicular to the sheet, wouldn’t ‘falling’ through a ‘ball’ or ‘3rd dimensional hole’ send us falling through a fourth dimension. A plane orthogonal to the 3 dimensions we know? HaphazardAdventurer wrote: Imagine a world that exists on a flat piece of paper with a population of little 2 dimensional beings that can only perceve and traverse the flat plane of the paper. Now if you, as a 3 dimensional being, were to poke a hole through that paper, these beings would find an area of their world that, as far as their understanding of the fabric of reality allows, simply doesn’t exist. Unless… You think back to that thing you were always told, about the stars being “holes to Aetherius”. If the night sky were a giant black ceiling like you thought when you were little, then a hole poked through it would just be a circle. But… if someone cut a round hole in three dimensional space, it wouldn’t be a circle – it would be a sphere. A sphere-shaped hole leading directly in the fourth dimension! Of course, when you tried to slam your little magicka-line into the stars, it just bounced off the edges. This could mean the “holes to Aetherius” story is bullshit and you’re overthinking a children’s fairytale, or it could just mean that the hole is closed off on its edges. Given that you can move your magicka-line freely around the outside of the star, that really makes it less of a “hole” and more of a “tube”. And if the star is just a cross-section of a weird tube leading across multiple planes, maybe you could…

JJR wrote: Remember that book you panic flipped through? One of the pages was about creating a so called Standard Magickal Star Tesseract. Cheese wrote: Orient to the warrior head star, form the tesseract. Conjuration code: 8068480098 Fuck, that’s right, the book! Just before you went blind, you were looking at a magic book that mentioned otherworldly denizens, and there was a whole section in it talking about stars! You frantically try to recall details of what you saw. If your ridiculous and over-complicated idea about stars being tubes reaching through multiple planes of existence is right, you might be able to follow those tubes. If you knew roughly where the next step along a four-dimensional tube was going to be, following it might be as simple as, like, searching the correct spot in three-dimensional space. You remember the book had an almost map-like diagram of some constellations with six stars labeled, and if you could remember what…

The thought dwindles out as you feel a sudden silence in the air. Sigrid has stopped talking. Your brief reprieve to look for a magical solution is almost over. Moving fast, you drive your magicka-line toward the nearest thing that looks sort of like a constellation from the book.

You have no idea how reaching to another plane works, what this sort of magic is supposed to look like, or if you’re even on the right track with your dumb idea about planes and tubes. To make matters worse, you probably have seconds left before your silence seems weird and Sigrid knows something is up. Taking a deep breath, you close your already blind eyes, you try to concentrate on all six stars at once, and you reach.