As a Lord, I often have to deal with people who are just not able to adjust to a society where I am god in all but name.
Now, like most of my fellow Lords, I have dungeons to deal with such deviants. (Except Lord Loony who has those weird pits with the polo mints.)
But I think those Lords don’t really get the point of the such facilities. Their dungeons are dark and bleak where the echoing screams of the tortured victims rattle through the halls. The food, if any is served, is hideous and overflowing with those creepy crawly thingys.
And newly incarcerated rebels shit in a hole in the floor of the common cell, surrounded by thousands of roaches, lice and the appreciate gazes of a hundred men drawing lots to see whose bitch the newbie will the be for the night.
Now all of this MAY sound like the perfect antidote for the rebellious spirit. And to be fair, it usually is enough for the average thief, rapist, murderer etc, whose spirit can be crushed like Simba’s father in that wildebeest stampede.
BUT It all breaks down when they encounter that “one, lone” person.
You know the one.
That one person whose spirit refuses to be crushed. They are plucky. They spit in the eyes of the guards and toss off pify one-liners in the face of the torture devices.
These people will always escape from the “inescapable” prison in a “daring” manner, usually through some incinerator vents or something.
And in time, after they have overthrown the “brutal” rule of the Lord and “restored” peace to the land, their heroic biography will highlight their “learning” and “growing” time in prison as the chapter – ‘formative years’.
This chapter will usually precede the chapter labelled – “Beginning the fight back.”
So naturally I find this method counter productive.
Now my dungeons have two sections – the usual one with the whole “abandon hope all those who enter” motifs and corpses.
But the minute any one-lining, unbreakable spiriting is detected among the more political of the lot, that one is promptly kicked down a flight of darkened stairs to the ominously labelled – “lower levels”...
…where they will land in a pleasure harem that could only be described as the earthly incarnation of heaven.
There will be beautiful girls, boys, and fountains of wine and whiskey. There will be fresh cream and strawberries and the best meals my finest cooks can prepare.
There will be Yoga in the morning, massages in the afternoon and tasteful bonfire sessions in the evening with dancing classes and singing.
There will be soft feather beds, air conditioning, cold water and perverted sex fantasies.
That may sound crazy at first glance.
BUT, when their rebel friends break into the jail in a daring night time raid – here is how I imagine the conversation will go –
“Quick! Wake up! We have come to rescue you! Viva la Revolution!”
“What the? GUARDS! GUARDS! HELP! THEY ARE TAKING ME AWAY! NO! NO! I STAY! I STAY! LET GO OF ME! GUARDS!”
One quick massacre a la Revolution later, we can all go back to sleep peacefully.
(Just make sure NO ONE ever finds out though. Otherwise they will be bleddy queuing up to get in the fucking jail and then you will be back to the old “shoot everyone, find out crimes to pin to them later” technique. )