Formerly a member of the Hyperian Cult, I resigned once it was known that Hyperianism didn’t reflect Illuminism any longer. My work always stated that it reflected Hyperianism insofar as Hyperianism reflected Illuminist ideas which could transform the world in an authentic way, i.e., working-class solutions like public banking or the advocacy of a meritocracy.

The promise and hope for Hyperianism were great. Discussions would occur weekly and the thought of real-world transformation was hopeful. Over time, the expectation for real-world topics never developed, only selfish aspirations were discussed and critiquing scientifically absurd articles and age-old stories. I don’t have insight into how cults work, but I’d notice things that were not necessary to achieve a successful video chat or to communicate to an audience effectively. For example, followers would wait patiently (sometimes for an hour) until the goblin king appeared and would donate before he got there. What were they paying for? The greetings felt tedious and I found it necessary to say, “I’m here listening as I walk my dog”, just so I wouldn’t have to greet everyone by name. That was truly annoying.

The hours-long live feeds were a waste of my time, so I would simply turn my back and start drawing. No longer was I going to watch Morgue talk while I wasn’t doing anything productive. The prime directive was to change the world in realistic ways. Videos were made that weren’t live, with no community chat. Those were effective since no distractions or off topics were involved in them, just information about math, psychology, and philosophy. Yet something happened when switching to the live feeds. The goblin king would then wait and stretch time before going live, allowing the goblins to donate and chat among themselves, bonding with each other closer and closer as the weeks went by. Even when the goblin king went live, he waited until more goblins appeared, which meant more donations within a longer timespan of the live chat. More time meant more money. So, the goblin king waited about an hour before even starting a topic and even then took breaks to hang out in the chat and make friends, perhaps because friends in the real world didn’t suit him.

Why not simply deliver the ten-minute videos without all the garbage? Because the time was his money. Hyperianism was meant to involve more than just one person. There were many talking heads, but as the goblin king had the most viewers, would it not have been awesome to converse in real-time with another on a split screen? What about a debate with a person open to a challenge?

The Goblin King had previous notoriety on AMC’s Freakshow as a shock artist and applied it to Hyperianism. If the goblin king truly wanted to spread information without the distraction of his fame, appearance, or all the banter going on in the chat, why not wear a mask or talk over a graphic video package to avoid attaching personal views to vital information?

Apollonius made high-quality, informative videos. Why not create more videos like those? Because the goblin king wants to be adored and be the one to have the power to enable lost people. Anyone can compliment anyone else and make them feel special, but to do that en masse week after week is to receive a return in adoration a hundredfold all at one time. The one defines the many, as gurus do. The goblins roam the labyrinth still, but only when their goblin king disappears will the goblins have a chance to reverse their track through the labyrinth mentally unharmed.

In the 1986 film Labyrinth, David Bowie plays Jareth, the Goblin King. The film is a musical and in the song Magic Dance, Jareth stares down a goblin as he starts the song:

Jareth: You remind me of the babe. Goblin: What babe?

Jareth: The babe with the power.

Goblin: What power? Jareth: Power of voodoo. Goblin: Who do?

Jareth: You do! Goblin: Do what?

Jareth: Remind me of the babe!

Though David Bowie was only playing a character, the real goblin king still commands his legion of hyper-fooled followers.

The real goblin king will never be David Bowie, but will always wish to be. He is but a liar. Should the lyrics be read back to the real goblin king, it would read: “He reminds me of a liar. What liar? The Liar with the power. What power? The power of Voodoo. Who do? He does… reminds me of a liar!”

He’s a thief. Thieves, by definition, are not meritorious.