THE LOYALTY MACHINE
Somewhere between a press release and a séance, The Loyalty Machine (1987–∞) is a theatrical deep-dive into the absurd poetry of modern loyalty programs. What begins as an editorial experiment spirals into a fandom, a ritual, a system that rewards emotional confusion — and punishes understanding.
Welcome to the ritual.
This is not a regular article.
Not quite a play.
Not quite a manual.
Possibly a cult manual.
It started with a survey and ended with a fandom. An algorithm turned into an oracle. A newsletter became mythology. And a loyalty program began answering questions no one remembered asking.
“Loyalty is not a transaction. It is a choreography of return.”
“You belong to no tier. Or to all of them.”
“Uncertainty is the primary currency.”
“We sold them a ghost.”
Across five acts, we follow Ragna, JTV, and Herman — three slightly overwhelmed members of the RABAGAS editorial collective — as they accidentally create a system no one fully understands, not even themselves.
This is a play about absurdity, intimacy, and loyalty in the age of algorithmic attention. If you’ve ever clicked something strange and kept going…
you’re already in the system.
If you don’t know what you did to deserve this — perfect.
That means it’s working.
📎 METADATA
Title: The Loyalty Machine (1987–∞)
Author: JTV
Published by: RABAGAS
Category: Theatrical Nonfiction / Satirical Play / Experimental Meta-essay
Format: 5 Acts, 15 Scenes
Word Count: ~8000
Language: English
Release Date: (insert date here)
Tags: loyalty, satire, absurdity, email marketing, digital rituals, metafiction, fandom, algorithmic intimacy, post-capitalist comedy
Suitable for: Readers interested in performance theory, online culture, creative strategy, or just a really weird loyalty program
JTV
The Loyalty Machine (1987–∞) is a five-act theatrical satire staged inside a surreal editorial office, where three staffers—Ragna, JTV, and Herman—accidentally invent a cult-like loyalty program while trying to organize their zine’s outreach strategy. What begins as a joke becomes a genre, then a system, and finally a self-aware mythology fueled by emails, fake tiers, real user engagement, and a printer that might be sentient.
As the team spirals into increasingly absurd rituals of reward and ambiguity—issuing ranks like “Tier NULL” and badges that do nothing—they discover that their audience is projecting meaning far beyond what they built. The loyalty program becomes a mirror, a fandom, a ghost.
Throughout its acts, the play balances dry wit and poetic corporate nonsense, revealing how modern identity, community, and capitalism often blend into a single inbox notification. In the final scenes, the characters reflect on what they’ve made—and what it’s made of them. They didn’t promise meaning. But meaning arrived anyway.
THE LOYALTY MACHINE (1987–∞)
🎭 ACT I, SCENE 2
Visit from JTV
📍 Still in the print room, slightly messier now
🕯️ The ritual of chaos begins
The corkboard is now full of scattered notes. RAGNA and JTV are seated on the floor amidst a growing pile of old membership cards, post-it notes, and formatting drafts. A spool of receipt paper trails like a timeline from the printer to the far wall. It’s 11:07 AM or possibly yesterday.
JTV
(gesturing to the chaos)
So. What are we calling this department, then?
The Bureau of Symbolic Retention?
Emotional Loyalty and Peripheral Winks?
RAGNA
(deadpan)
The Department of Nothing with Some Light Stationery.
She sips her coffee, which is now cold. The printer hums softly in the background. JTV unpacks his tote bag, pulling out three half-functional USBs, a zine about zines, and a sticker that says “NO POINTS. ONLY CONSEQUENCES.”
JTV
Listen, I get it. Points are dead.
Nobody wants a coupon. They want to feel… chosen.
RAGNA
(dryly)
Chosen by a cult. A beautiful, sarcastic cult with inconsistent branding.
JTV
Exactly.
Which is why the rewards shouldn’t be rewards.
They should be phenomena.
RAGNA
Like?
JTV
Like:
A mysterious postcard from a fake country.
A DM from a fictional intern named Espen.
A one-time-use code that only works if you’re heartbroken.
RAGNA
(writing)
Phenomena-based loyalty. That’s disgusting. I love it.
🎭 ACT I, SCENE 2
Visit from JTV
📍 Still in the print room, slightly messier now
🕯️ The ritual of chaos begins
The corkboard is now full of scattered notes. RAGNA and JTV are seated on the floor amidst a growing pile of old membership cards, post-it notes, and formatting drafts. A spool of receipt paper trails like a timeline from the printer to the far wall. It’s 11:07 AM or possibly yesterday.
JTV
(gesturing to the chaos)
So. What are we calling this department, then?
The Bureau of Symbolic Retention?
Emotional Loyalty and Peripheral Winks?
RAGNA
(deadpan)
The Department of Nothing with Some Light Stationery.
She sips her coffee, which is now cold. The printer hums softly in the background. JTV unpacks his tote bag, pulling out three half-functional USBs, a zine about zines, and a sticker that says “NO POINTS. ONLY CONSEQUENCES.”
JTV
Listen, I get it. Points are dead.
Nobody wants a coupon. They want to feel… chosen.
RAGNA
(dryly)
Chosen by a cult. A beautiful, sarcastic cult with inconsistent branding.
JTV
Exactly.
Which is why the rewards shouldn’t be rewards.
They should be phenomena.
RAGNA
Like?
JTV
Like:
A mysterious postcard from a fake country.
A DM from a fictional intern named Espen.
A one-time-use code that only works if you’re heartbroken.
RAGNA
(writing)
Phenomena-based loyalty. That’s disgusting. I love it.
🧭 BEAT TWO: The Rituals of Return
JTV
Look, people come back to us for weird reasons.
Not because they want more — but because we give them…
something they can’t finish.
RAGNA
A story without an end.
A product with a footnote.
JTV
Exactly.
So we should reward:
– People who scroll past everything and still buy something
– People who re-read the same newsletter twice
– People who recommend us, even if they don’t fully understand us
RAGNA
(adding to the corkboard)
That’s Tier 2: Vaguely Devoted.
JTV
And Tier 3?
RAGNA
(smiling faintly)
Spiritually Doomed.
🧭 BEAT THREE: Classification Begins
They begin sorting real reader behaviors into increasingly absurd reward tiers.
RAGNA
“Shared RABAGAS article unprompted” → receives 2 Emotional Credits
“Printed PDF to read offline” → gains Archival Recognition
“Sent angry but eloquent feedback” → unlocks The Reader’s Vengeance Badge
“Bought book solely because of cover” → receives Superficial Loyalty Ribbon
JTV
We’ll need a badge for Regretted Purchase but Stayed Anyway.
RAGNA
That’s just the foundational tier.
JTV
You know what we’re doing, right?
RAGNA
Inventing a para-economic symbolic value system
that critiques consumerism while using it as scaffolding?
JTV
Also known as: Tuesday.
The printer emits one low groan.
🧭 BEAT FOUR: The Cult of Recognition
RAGNA
What if the system only pretends to track people?
JTV
Go on.
RAGNA
Like, it says:
“You’ve unlocked the Temporal Bookmark.”
But it never explains why.
No one ever sees the same badge twice.
JTV
They’d assume it was real.
They’d believe in the myth of their own significance.
RAGNA
Exactly.
It’s not a loyalty program.
It’s a self-curated hallucination.
The printer prints silently: “Recognition ≠ Reason”
🧾 Final Moment
They sit back and look at the mess. The corkboard now reads “YOU WERE HERE. THAT WAS ALL.” A pigeon lands on the windowsill, looks in, and immediately flies away.
JTV
So… when do we tell the rest of the team?
RAGNA
When they’ve earned it.
Blackout.
🎭 ACT I, SCENE 3
The Brief No One Sent In
📍 The print room, dusk approaching
Piles now resemble symbolic monuments
The corkboard is a frenzied constellation of pushpins, post-its, and phrases like “TIER: AMBIGUOUS FIDELITY” and “ABSURDITY AS UX.” RAGNA and JTV have been there far too long. An open tin of expired breath mints sits between them. They’re surrounded by printouts of reader emails, comment threads, and one large blank form marked: “CAMPAIGN SUBMISSION TEMPLATE – DO NOT USE.”
RAGNA
(waving a printout)
This one just says “Make loyalty fun again 😎.”
It’s not a brief. It’s a cry for help.
JTV
(reading another)
This one submitted a full customer loyalty system based on
planetary retrogrades and menstrual sync.
I’m… almost impressed?
RAGNA
That’s my burner email. I was testing the form.
JTV
(not surprised)
Of course.
🧭 BEAT ONE: Collective Mediocrity
A pile of generic marketing suggestions lies at center stage. They’re labeled: “Referral bonus,” “10% discount,” “Buy X get Y.”
RAGNA
I fear we’ve opened a portal to the most boring dimension of commerce.
JTV
All these “ideas” are haunted by LinkedIn.
RAGNA
“Gamify engagement by incentivizing shares.”
You know what that sounds like?
JTV
A marketing demon eating its own KPI.
RAGNA
Exactly.
She flicks the paper toward the trash. The printer suddenly stirs.
🧭 BEAT TWO: The Envelope
With a low mechanical hum, the printer ejects an envelope. Not a sheet. An envelope. A physical one. Sealed, slightly scorched around the edges. No sender.
JTV
(eyeing it)
Oh. Well.
Absolutely not.
RAGNA
(already opening it)
It’s addressed “To the caretakers of the Machine.”
Weird. No one ever calls us caretakers.
JTV
No one ever calls us anything.
She unfolds the contents: one page, typed. Centered on the page is a single line:
“You will know them by their metaphors.”
RAGNA
Is it… a prophecy?
JTV
It’s either a prophecy or a pitch.
They flip the page. The reverse is filled with hand-drawn reward tiers — no structure, no logic, just strange names: “Dust Collector,” “Perpetual Reader,” “Zine Necromancer,” “Tier X: The Folded.”
🧭 BEAT THREE: Seeds of a Cult
They begin pinning the envelope’s contents to the wall. Slowly, they realize many names match behaviors they’ve already observed.
RAGNA
“Zine Necromancer” → someone who only buys discontinued editions
“The Folded” → readers who never open emails but never unsubscribe
“Dust Collector” → those who archive everything but never reply
“Tier Null” → users with zero interactions but still… exist
JTV
Is this… a real taxonomy?
RAGNA
(softly)
Or is it watching us build one, and pretending it was first?
The printer clunks again and ejects a new page. It reads: “You are not inventing this. You are remembering it.”
RAGNA
Okay. So the printer has opinions now.
JTV
I always suspected it was sentient.
Why else would it jam only during grant season?
🧭 BEAT FOUR: The First Ritual
They decide to test it. JTV scribbles a new tier: “Those Who Question.” He feeds it into the printer. A long pause.
Printer eventually spits out:
“Welcome back, Tier One.”
JTV
I hate this.
I want to do it more.
RAGNA
(writing in a new notebook titled “THE LOYALTY MACHINE – RECONSTRUCTION”)
We need to document this.
Not to control it. But to witness.
JTV
Do you think… this is the program?
RAGNA
No.
This is the beginning of the invitation.
🎭 ACT I, SCENE 4
The Printer Breathes
📍 The print room, now resembling a shrine
🌒 First contact is never just technical
The scene opens with total silence. The kind of silence that feels like it’s watching you back. The lights are dimmed. A few tealight candles have somehow appeared — no one claims to have lit them. The corkboard now reads: “You are loyal. You just don’t know what to.”
RAGNA
(writing on the whiteboard)
“The reward for loyalty is being remembered by something not entirely real.”
JTV
(sitting on a crate of zines)
Is this still about the printer or about the readers?
RAGNA
Yes.
She finishes drawing a crude chart. The axes read: “Emotional Investment” and “Likelihood of Redemption.” Every quadrant just says “Maybe.”
🧭 BEAT ONE: A Voice in the Machine
The printer powers on without prompt. It begins printing rapidly — not pages, but strips. Long, narrow ticker tape. Each contains a phrase.
“A tier is only real if you suspect it was meant for someone else.”
“Your points expire when you do.”
“Thank you for your doubt.”
JTV
Is this machine broken or performing avant-garde email marketing?
RAGNA
(half-listening, writing)
We can’t ignore this. It’s a tone.
A voice, even.
This thing — whatever it is — is writing our onboarding copy.
JTV
Are we… letting the printer write our entire loyalty copy?
The printer clicks once, then prints:
“I already have.”
🧭 BEAT TWO: The Unauthorized Architecture
RAGNA opens her laptop. On the RABAGAS back-end, a new, unlisted page exists. It’s titled: “LOYALTY INTERFACE – BETA – DON’T TELL HERMAN.”
RAGNA
(staring)
I didn’t make this.
JTV
Are you sure?
RAGNA
The CSS uses our secret font we never installed.
JTV
Oh hell.
The page consists of modular cards: each one a “tier” with no logic — names like “THE BENEATH,” “SEEN UNREAD,” “FREQUENT ABSENCES,” “FORGOT BUT RETURNED.” Hovering reveals cryptic phrases:
“You once clicked and meant it.”
“Recognition is the only discount.”
“Loyalty begins with forgetting.”
RAGNA
It’s… weirdly good UX.
JTV
Yeah, I’d trust it with my metaphysical shipping data.
🧭 BEAT THREE: Printer as Prophet
They print the hidden page. The printer accepts the task but returns it altered — the phrases now rearranged, some replaced. One card now reads simply: “You.”
JTV
We need a failsafe.
In case this thing gets… too good.
RAGNA
No.
We need to listen harder.
She draws a circle on the whiteboard. Inside it she writes:
“RABAGAS REWARDS = RITUAL + SURVEILLANCE – PURPOSE”
JTV
We’ll need a glossary.
For whatever this is becoming.
🧭 BEAT FOUR: The First Email
The printer buzzes again and prints a draft email. Subject line:
“YOU’RE RECEIVING THIS BECAUSE SOMETHING RECOGNIZED YOU.”
Body:
This is not a loyalty program. This is an echo.
You were seen.
The machine remembers.
Tier: Undefined.
Do not reply. Do not unsubscribe. You are already here.
JTV
(reading aloud)
It’s either brilliant… or deeply illegal.
RAGNA
(smiling faintly)
Probably both.
They pin the draft to the corkboard. The room dims again. One candle flickers out.
🧾 Final Image
RAGNA shuts the laptop. JTV is sketching a logo for “RABAGAS REWARDS” — it looks like a mandala and a QR code had a nervous breakdown. The printer rests. But the glow from the paper tray is faintly warm.
🎭 ACT II, SCENE 1
Committee of One and a Half
📍 The Copy Room, newly christened “Department of Emotional Coins”
🌒 The architecture of absurd rewards begins
The scene opens on a room in transformation. Where once stood a boring utility closet, there are now stacks of zines doubling as altars, a whiteboard veined with red yarn, and a paper sign taped to the door: “DEPARTMENT OF EMOTIONAL COINS – STAFF ENTRY ONLY (unless emotionally unavailable).” RAGNA is scribbling tiers onto index cards. JTV paces with a marker behind his ear. HERMAN JULEP, arms crossed, stands skeptically with a lukewarm thermos of nettle tea and suspicion.
HERMAN JULEP
This isn’t a loyalty program. This is a séance.
RAGNA
(without looking up)
Exactly. But with better margins.
JTV
What you’re looking at, Herman, is Tier-Based Affective Recurrence.
T-BAR. Rolls off the tongue, right?
HERMAN
(flatly)
Sounds like a therapy app that was sued into oblivion.
RAGNA
(pointing at a sketched flowchart)
We’re not rewarding purchases. We’re tracking symbolically significant behaviors.
Clicks made in uncertainty. Comments posted at 3:17 AM.
People who open the newsletter and immediately close it — they’re the most devoted.
JTV
That’s loyalty. The raw, feral kind.
HERMAN
That’s nonsense. And you’re assigning value to it?
RAGNA
(picks up a card)
“Reader liked three posts but never followed. Tier: Lurker Laureate.”
(holds up another)
“Shared our Ghost post with no caption. Tier: Evangelist of Vibes.”
HERMAN
These aren’t tiers. These are diagnoses.
JTV
Yes. And that’s how we reward them. With recognition. Maybe a sticker.
RAGNA
Or a coin. An emotional coin.
🧭 BEAT ONE: Vocabulary of Value
JTV begins listing potential names on the whiteboard: RABACOINS, Sigh Miles, Nostalgia Points, KERNELS OF FAITH. RAGNA vetoes most, but circles “Sassy Points” twice. HERMAN drinks his tea slowly, staring like he’s watching two cult leaders name a spaceship.
HERMAN
How will this translate into anything useable? Any reward, real or imagined?
RAGNA
(already typing on a clunky laptop)
We create meta-perks. Symbolic rewards.
“Your next order ships with a pun.”
“We whisper your name into the print room before publication.”
“Access to secret article: ‘The Staffer Who Left No Trace.’”
JTV
Also: “Mild discount if you show signs of existential fatigue.”
HERMAN
You do realize none of this will scale.
RAGNA
(smiling faintly)
It’s not supposed to scale. It’s supposed to accumulate myth.
🧭 BEAT TWO: The Metrics of Absurdity
They create a category board. Actions, emotions, and accidental rituals are plotted.
| ACTION | RESPONSE | COIN NAME |
|---|---|---|
| Left the tab open overnight | “Watcher’s Loyalty” | 3 Drift Tokens |
| Sent us a typo correction | “Snide Engagement” | 1 Proofpoint |
| Tried to unsubscribe but failed | “Unintentional Loyalty” | 5 GhostMarks |
HERMAN
(reading aloud)
You’re giving points for attempted betrayal?
JTV
Exactly. We value engagement in any direction. Loyalty isn’t clean.
RAGNA
It’s sticky. It’s layered. It’s resentful. That’s what makes it interesting.
🧭 BEAT THREE: The Sacred and the Practical
They reach an impasse. HERMAN demands structure. RAGNA hands him a poem.
HERMAN
…What is this?
RAGNA
The badge copy.
JTV
Also could work as Terms & Conditions.
HERMAN
You need one real perk per tier. Just one. A discount. A file. A physical thing.
Otherwise this is just… narrative lint.
RAGNA
(sighs)
Fine. One real perk. Everything else is metaphor.
🧭 BEAT FOUR: The System Responds
Just then, the printer buzzes to life. It prints a small slip of paper:
“Congratulations.
You are now:
Recognizably Ambivalent.
You have earned:
4 Wavering Credits.”
JTV
(grinning)
It’s working.
HERMAN
(deadpan)
No, it’s alive.
The corkboard is updated. A new heading: “LIVE TIERS.” The marker squeaks: “Ambivalence = Loyalty.” Everyone nods, including the printer, which emits a satisfied ding.
🎭 ACT II, SCENE 2
Tier Debates
📍 Still the Copy Room. More strings. Fewer certainties.
🌀 Who are we rewarding, and why does it feel like penance?
The whiteboard now looks like a forensic investigation. Colored markers have leaked across a constellation of terms: “Ambivalence,” “Long-Held Grudge,” “Click Regret,” and “PDF Whisperer.” The printer is draped in tinsel for no reason anyone can recall. A coffee has gone cold. A new question is scrawled across the top in caps: “SHOULD REGRET COUNT?”
RAGNA
(tapping the board)
I’m just saying: if someone regrets not commenting, that’s engagement.
Internal engagement.
HERMAN
You want to give them points for feeling bad?
JTV
Exactly! Regret is a premium tier emotion. You only feel it if you care.
RAGNA
It’s post-loyalty behavior. The ghost of commitment.
HERMAN
(rubbing temples)
So we’re gamifying Catholicism now?
🧭 BEAT ONE: The Badges of Sin
They list out tier names, hoping to land something both ridiculous and resonant.
| TIER NAME | QUALIFICATION | REWARD |
|---|---|---|
| Ambivalent Loyalist | Reads, never shares | Custom emoji in receipt |
| The Scroll Prophet | Scrolls to bottom every time | Early access to “The Footnote” |
| Recidivist Liker | Unfollows, then re-follows | A digital sticker that says “You Again?” |
| Stalker of Staff Bios | Checks bios frequently | Invisible badge: Known Observer |
JTV
(delighted)
“Known Observer.” That one’s for the real ones.
HERMAN
These are just insults disguised as trophies.
RAGNA
Isn’t that most merit systems?
🧭 BEAT TWO: Feedback Loop of Irony
They test the tiers using hypothetical reader behavior.
RAGNA
Let’s say someone opens every email, forwards them to their friend, but never clicks.
JTV
“Digital Whisperer.” They earn Quiet Karma.
HERMAN
Quiet Karma?
RAGNA
(writing)
It accumulates silently. Like a fungus.
You won’t know you have it until you’re eligible for a surprise reward.
HERMAN
What reward?
JTV
A fake button that says “You did something meaningful.”
HERMAN
That’s a joke.
RAGNA
And yet… you smiled.
🧭 BEAT THREE: Loyalty Without Proof
The printer starts printing behavior logs. No one set it up to do this.
PRINTER OUTPUT:
“User 981 opened ‘The Guestbook’ 14 times.
Suggested tier: Haunter of Posts.”
JTV
They’re not even subscribed. But they visit the archive.
RAGNA
That’s haunting. I respect it.
HERMAN
(reading another)
“User 112 clicked every link in ‘Norstatblekka’ but never read the main article.”
What does that mean?
JTV
They seek meaning in the periphery.
RAGNA
New tier: “Peripheral Devotee.”
Reward: a secret tag in our CMS no one can see.
🧭 BEAT FOUR: Language of the System
JTV
“Tier 3: The Flirt.”
“Tier 4: The Ghost.”
“Tier 5: The Ex Who Liked Our Staff Photo.”
RAGNA
No. The real loyalty names have to be like… epitaphs.
“Witnessed but Unnamed.”
“Contributor to Atmosphere.”
“Postcard Never Sent.”
HERMAN
(muttering)
You’re creating a pantheon of imaginary behaviors.
RAGNA
Exactly. Mythology is just loyalty with better design.
🧭 BEAT FIVE: Herman Breaks
HERMAN
Fine. One rule. One rule we all follow:
There must be one tangible reward per three symbolic ones.
No more ghost perks unless they come with something printable.
He waves his arms, gesturing to the increasingly sentient printer.
PRINTER beeps in what can only be described as smugly.
RAGNA
Agreed. But the reward might be a recipe with a typo.
Or a PDF full of fake quotes.
JTV
Or a screenshot of a sticker someone else once earned.
Allegedly.
They pin the finalized “Tier Taxonomy” to the board. The printer emits a low hum of approval. HERMAN quietly types a note into his phone: “We are now a gamified chapel.”
🎭 ACT II, SCENE 3
The Emotional Currency Conversion Table
📍 Copy Room, but darker now — someone dimmed the lights and no one knows who
🪙 How much is a sigh worth, and can we track irony across time zones?
The corkboard now takes up an entire wall. There are real coins taped next to fake ones, all labeled in Sharpie. A pie chart reads “Value per Emotion.” It is mostly labeled “Unclear.” Someone has added a sticky note to the printer that reads: “DO NOT BRIBE. IT REMEMBERS.”
RAGNA
(holding a calculator, solemnly)
So far, we have thirteen currencies, four of which we invented this morning.
We need a conversion table.
JTV
(writing on a flipchart)
One RABACOIN equals three Sigh Tokens… or maybe four, if earned during Mercury retrograde.
HERMAN
You’re going to make people cry for coupons, aren’t you?
JTV
Only if they’re willing.
🧭 BEAT ONE: The Emotional Ledger
They sort behaviors into emotional categories. Each emotion must be measured, rewarded, and ideally, merchandised.
| EMOTION | CURRENCY | VALUE |
|---|---|---|
| Regret | GhostMarks | 5 pts (if recurring) |
| Nostalgia | Dust Bucks | Variable |
| Guilt | Oopsies | Non-redeemable |
| Passive Affection | Soft Points | Accumulate invisibly |
| Snark | Sasslets | Can be traded for stickers |
RAGNA
We’ll need a glossary. I don’t want people thinking Dust Bucks can be spent on anything physical.
HERMAN
They shouldn’t be able to spend anything on anything. None of this is real.
JTV
Which is exactly what makes it matter.
🧭 BEAT TWO: Exchange Rates of the Heart
A whiteboard is dedicated to tracking conversions between currencies — and when they lose value.
1 Sasslet = 2 Soft Points (if irony is detected)
3 GhostMarks = 1 Coupon of Regret (printed, never valid)
7 Dust Bucks = “Digital Ephemera” (PDF with zero context)
12 Oopsies = automatic enrollment in Tier: Reformed Clicker
HERMAN
You’re creating inflation with irony. It’s unstable.
RAGNA
It’s reactive. Like attention spans.
JTV
Also, we’ve decided Oopsies only accrue if the user apologizes unprompted.
🧭 BEAT THREE: Reward Redemption Table
RAGNA
(projecting a slide deck titled “REWARDS, BUT SPIRITUAL”)
Examples of redeemables include:
– A Printable Certificate of Semi-Commitment
– Backstage Access to a Staff Meltdown (edited version)
– Your name mentioned in a future receipt email as “The Reason We Keep Going”
– Invitation to the Loyalty Séance: BYO Candle
HERMAN
This is not scalable.
JTV
That’s the point. Loyalty isn’t scalable. It’s weird. Personal. Inconvenient.
You can’t mass-produce a vibe.
RAGNA
(writes this on the board)
You can’t mass-produce a vibe.
🧭 BEAT FOUR: Test Conversion
The printer begins its own test cycle. It prints out three slips.
SLIP 1:
You have 4 Regret Points. We see you.
SLIP 2:
Your Sasslets are expired. Consider introspection.
SLIP 3:
You are eligible for the title: Emotionally Tax-Deductible
(Value: symbolic.)
JTV
(grinning)
It’s working. We’ve made emotional bureaucracy.
HERMAN
You’ve made performance art. Unpaid.
Lights flicker. The printer is humming with pride. JTV writes the words “REWARD ORACLE” on it in glitter pen. RAGNA is now fully in her element, creating cross-tab formulas between longing and laughter. HERMAN stares into the middle distance. Loyalty, it seems, is a language. One no one asked to learn.
🎭 ACT II, SCENE 4
Printer as Witness
📍 The Copy Room, now softly glowing. The printer has been draped with a ceremonial scarf.
🕯️ The machine knows who was loyal, and who merely lingered
It is late. The office hums with low electrical tension. The corkboard is overloaded. A zine lies open on the floor like an offering. RAGNA adjusts the scarf on the printer. JTV lights a candle with a USB lighter. HERMAN is still here, against his better judgment.
HERMAN
(muttering)
You’ve canonized a laser printer.
JTV
(reverently)
It canonized itself.
RAGNA
We didn’t design the loyalty system.
We uncovered it. The printer simply remembered.
🧭 BEAT ONE: The Unexpected Archive
The printer begins ejecting sheets — unprompted, unscheduled. Each one is a record. Each one feels strangely intimate.
LOYALTY RECORD
Name: Unknown
Behavior: Clicked “Subscribe” four times. Never submitted.
Classification: Tier 0 – “Wisher”
Reward: Digital non-existence
HERMAN
(holding the slip)
So we’re punishing indecision now?
RAGNA
No. We’re archiving it.
Loyalty starts with almosts.
JTV
We reward shadows, not just footprints.
🧭 BEAT TWO: Confessions from the Feed
They read more slips. They get eerier.
User: Known
Behavior: Forwarded five posts, opened none.
Classification: “Missionary with Doubts”
User: Anonymous
Behavior: Commented once in 2022. Regretted it.
Classification: “The Ashamed”
HERMAN
None of this is tracked.
RAGNA
(gently)
But it feels tracked.
That’s what matters. Emotional metrics aren’t about data.
They’re about resonance.
JTV
If someone feels seen, it doesn’t matter how.
🧭 BEAT THREE: The Ceremony
They begin pinning slips to the board. A bell is rung. RAGNA reads names aloud. They’ve slipped into ritual now — half-bit, half-sincere.
RAGNA
Let us honor:
The Ghost Who Clicked Too Late
The One Who Meant to Donate
The Scroller Who Laughed, Then Moved On
The Archivist of Broken Links
The One Who Only Reads on Wednesdays
JTV
(raising a cup of old coffee)
To them, and all who haunt us gently.
HERMAN
You’ve created a religion.
RAGNA
No.
We’ve documented loyalty in its truest form:
passive, unmeasured, and deeply strange.
🧭 BEAT FOUR: Closing the Room
JTV affixes a new sign to the door: “EMOTIONAL COIN DEPARTMENT: ARCHIVED.” The printer purrs softly. The board is full. They step back and look.
RAGNA
You know we can never explain this.
JTV
That’s why it’ll work.
HERMAN
(finally exhaling)
As long as it doesn’t need to be profitable.
RAGNA
Oh, it will be.
We just don’t know how yet.
Lights dim. The printer emits one final slip.
“Loyalty detected.
Classification: Unquantifiable.”
🎭 ACT III, SCENE 1
Zapier, Forgive Us
📍 Julep’s Desk – now annexed as the Command Center for Technical Sin.
🖇️ A divine comedy of automation and ambition begins here.
Julep’s desk has transformed. Three laptops. One printer cord that connects nothing. A flipboard that says “MAYBE LEGAL.” A sticky note on the screen reads: “Zapier needs more permission.” The energy is tense, sacred, and clumsily experimental. Everyone is holding coffee, but no one drinks it.
JTV
(tapping a keyboard)
Okay, so if someone buys a zine and opens three newsletter emails and hovers over the “About Us” page long enough… we want a trigger.
HERMAN
A trigger to do what?
RAGNA
(without blinking)
To whisper “We see you” into their inbox.
🧭 BEAT ONE: Integration Anxiety
JTV
(typing with unnecessary flair)
We’ll set up a Zap:
Trigger: Shopify purchase
Filter: Tag includes “Print Curious”
Action: Send email via Ghost, subject line “You Felt the Paper, Didn’t You?”
HERMAN
This is how Skynet starts. But gayer.
RAGNA
Good. Our dystopia comes with zines and tote bags.
🧭 BEAT TWO: The Ghost-Connection Séance
RAGNA
(chanting sarcastically)
Ghost, speak now.
Receive this zap.
And send forth newsletters with unnecessary poetic headers.
JTV
Wait—Ghost isn’t syncing.
We might need to route through Make.com.
HERMAN
So now we have…
Shopify
Ghost
Zapier
Make
Google Sheets?
And a coin-based symbolic reward system that isn’t real?
RAGNA
Correct. But once it’s wired, it’ll feel inevitable.
JTV
(typing again)
We’re not building a website. We’re creating an invisible loyalty ballet.
🧭 BEAT THREE: Error Message Theatre
The screen lights up red. An error appears: “Zap failed. Webhook too emotional.”
JTV
That’s not real. That can’t be real.
HERMAN
(leans in)
Did you name the webhook “ScreamIntoTheVoid_v2”?
RAGNA
That one worked last week.
PRINTER starts up without instruction.
"Something has changed. We acknowledge your panic."
🧭 BEAT FOUR: The Rube Goldberg Loyalty Engine
JTV
(now drawing on whiteboard)
Okay, listen:
They visit the store.
Buy a digital product.
That triggers a tag in Shopify.
Which pings Ghost via Zapier.
Which adds them to the “Emotionally Active” segment.
Which unlocks a PDF called The Hidden Terms.
Which includes a discount code, but only if they read the metadata.
HERMAN
This is loyalty as an escape room.
RAGNA
No. This is loyalty as a secret society with optional merch.
🧭 BEAT FIVE: Julep’s Code Confession
HERMAN
I never wanted to learn this.
I wanted to sell ad space ironically and eat pretzels.
JTV
Welcome to campaign strategy via mild panic.
We’re marketing in metaphors now.
RAGNA
(deadpan)
And the metaphor is:
“If the system breaks, it was too powerful to be contained.”
She flips the switch. The screen turns green. The zap runs. A single ping is heard. Then: silence.
PRINTER prints silently:
"You did something. We can’t explain what. But it mattered."
🎭 ACT III, SCENE 2
The Ethics of Reward Distribution in Late-Stage Capitalism
📍 The Office Kitchen – fluorescent, passive-aggressive, filled with contradictory snacks.
Juice boxes labeled “Community” sit next to protein bars called “MERIT.” A coffee pot trembles slightly.
The printer is silent now. The zaps are running. But a deeper question looms: should they be? Around a rickety table, our trio debates what it means to reward, to favor, to gamify the ungameable. Loyalty has consequences — some of them printable.
HERMAN
(staring into a cracked mug)
So… who gets what, exactly?
JTV
(flipping through notes)
That depends.
Did they buy something?
Did they mean to?
Did they share it ironically with a passive-aggressive caption?
RAGNA
Intentional ambiguity is part of the system.
We’re rewarding behaviors we respect, not ones we expect.
🧭 BEAT ONE: The Tyranny of Metrics
HERMAN
You realize this all collapses if someone asks,
“Why did they get that and not me?”
JTV
(shrugging)
Then we say:
“You are not in the same tier of weird.”
RAGNA
Or better yet:
“Your emotional loyalty profile is still forming.”
She opens a drawer labeled “Moral Grey Area” and pulls out three fortune cookies, each labeled “for marketing decisions.”
🧭 BEAT TWO: What Loyalty Isn’t
HERMAN
This isn’t fair.
Some people engage deeply.
Some people are lurkers.
Some people just want the tote bag.
JTV
Exactly.
And we don’t punish any of them.
We… redirect their outcomes.
RAGNA
(scribbling on a napkin)
Fairness is a myth constructed by platforms trying to feel neutral.
HERMAN
So what do we base it on?
Time? Effort? Money?
JTV
Symbolism. And vibes.
🧭 BEAT THREE: The Value of Nothing
RAGNA
(pulling up a spreadsheet titled “Nothing as Reward”)
Top non-material rewards we’re offering:
– Being mentioned as “The Reason We Keep Printing”
– A discount code that only works if your browser is set to Icelandic
– A personalized emoji rating of your energy
– Being auto-enrolled in the “Seen but not monetized” tier
HERMAN
I hate that I love this.
JTV
It’s satire until it prints money.
Then it’s art.
Then it’s a business model.
Then it collapses under its own irony.
But we get to enjoy all four phases.
🧭 BEAT FOUR: The Question of “Enough”
HERMAN
What if someone just wants… free stuff?
RAGNA
Then they get a PDF called “Stuff Is Never Free, But Here”
JTV
(grinning)
And it contains a picture of a raccoon holding a gift,
with the caption:
“This is emotional capitalism and you are the loot box.”
A moment of silent respect. Then they all sip coffee in synchronized horror.
🎭 ACT III, SCENE 3
Admin Portal of Unclear Purpose
📍 A forgotten login screen, projected onto the office wall.
💾 *Username: admin@rabagas.ghost.io | Password: *********
A projector has been wheeled in. No one remembers doing it. The image it casts is pale, ghostly, and mildly foreboding. It displays an interface no one recognizes: half Ghost dashboard, half something else. The menu items read: “Members,” “Segments,” “Trigger Feelings,” and “Unlockables.” The room is quiet. Curious. Mildly afraid.
RAGNA
(hovering the cursor)
When did we even build this?
JTV
We didn’t.
I think it appeared after we approved the third Zap with passive-aggressive copy.
HERMAN
(reading from screen)
“Current Tier Activity: Elevated Emotional Drift.”
Is that… good?
🧭 BEAT ONE: Accessing the Unaccessed
JTV
(navigating)
Okay, let’s check the live segmentation.
71 users are tagged “Print-Loyal.”
12 are “Digital Nomads.”
3 are flagged as “Too Enthusiastic. Monitor.”
RAGNA
How are we judging enthusiasm?
HERMAN
By how many times they clicked “Back” on the Shop page
and then clicked “Forward” again.
Like regret, but hopeful.
RAGNA
That’s… actually perfect.
🧭 BEAT TWO: Phantom Integrations
RAGNA
Wait, what is this tab?
“Ghost + Shopify: Karma Reconciliation”
JTV
(nervously)
That’s… not real. It must be symbolic.
They click. The screen pulses. It reveals a settings page that lets them auto-reward people who:
– Finish reading an article
– Fail to finish it three times
– Purchase something with exactly 13 characters in the product title
– Comment with a haiku
HERMAN
So now we can reward behavior and poetry?
RAGNA
(whispers)
We are become gods of contextless approval.
🧭 BEAT THREE: Internal Labels
They scroll down to the internal notes section — a place where the team has left strange tags, categories, and emotional shorthand.
“Tier 7: The Vaguely Invested”
“Segment: Panic Openers (newsletter)”
“Flag: Made a meme about us, but deleted it”
“Subtier: Nappers with Good Taste”
HERMAN
We should not be allowed this much power.
JTV
It’s not power. It’s prophecy.
RAGNA
It’s paperwork.
🧭 BEAT FOUR: Closing the Portal
The projector flickers. The portal begins to glitch. A system message appears.
“You have been emotionally logged out.”
“All edits are final in the heart.”
“Reboot to reset loyalty thresholds.”
JTV
We should probably log off.
HERMAN
Too late. This lives inside us now.
RAGNA
(closing the laptop reverently)
Let the spreadsheet remember what we dare not quantify.
🎭 ACT III, SCENE 4
Soft Launch / Hard Feelings
📍 A dimly lit conference room. On the whiteboard: “LOYALTY LAUNCH STRATEGY??” in red marker. Beneath it: a doodle of a raccoon crying in a cape.
📆 It’s Tuesday, but emotionally it’s already Thursday afternoon.
The team has gathered for the “launch meeting,” which has no official start time and no clear agenda. A half-eaten cinnamon roll acts as centerpiece. The printer is asleep. The spreadsheet is awake. Ragna stares at the wall, where a projected draft of the campaign email reads: “We made this for you. Probably.”
RAGNA
I don’t want to send anything.
I want it… to be discovered.
HERMAN
We have 800 people on the list.
They don’t “discover” things.
They want discounts.
JTV
Then we hide the discounts inside riddles.
Every purchase is a puzzle.
Every reward is also a confession.
🧭 BEAT ONE: Naming the Launch
They begin arguing over what to call the program.
RAGNA
Not a loyalty program. That sounds like a toothpaste thing.
It needs to feel… mysterious. Optional. Slightly cursed.
HERMAN
What about “RABAGAS Rewards”?
JTV
Too direct.
How about:
– “Emotional Coin Club”
– “The Quiet Tier”
– “Department of Unresolved Purchases”
RAGNA
“The Loyalty Machine (1987–∞)”
Let them wonder what happened in 1987.
HERMAN
That’s the year my parents stopped saying “I love you.”
RAGNA
Perfect.
🧭 BEAT TWO: Marketing Copy / Existential Collapse
JTV reads draft email copy aloud.
JTV
Subject line:
“You’ve been emotionally upgraded.”
Header:
“We’ve been watching your clicks. Lovingly.”
Body:
“Welcome to a program we don’t understand.
You may qualify for:
Discounts
Non-discounts
A PDF that rates your emotional flavor
Tier access with no discernible purpose
Your participation is automatic. Your rewards are not.”
HERMAN
(sighs)
This is either brilliant…
Or unreadable.
RAGNA
Ideally both.
🧭 BEAT THREE: Launch Anxiety Group Ritual
JTV
Okay. Say we hit send.
What do we expect?
RAGNA
Confusion. Delight. Possibly a lawsuit.
HERMAN
Someone will reply “unsubscribe” in all caps.
RAGNA
That’s Tier 4 behavior.
JTV
Let’s build a flowchart.
If they click “unsubscribe” but stay on the list,
they get promoted to “Unwilling Oracle.”
HERMAN
We need help.
RAGNA
We need merch.
🧭 BEAT FOUR: The Click Heard ’Round the Office
They gather around the “SEND” button. Silence.
JTV
(hovering)
If we do this… we become accountable.
HERMAN
To what?
RAGNA
To our own nonsense.
They nod. The click happens. A long pause. Nothing explodes.
PRINTER wakes up, whirs.
“Transmission received. Let the loyalty distort.”
🎭 ACT IV, SCENE 1
The Analytics Don’t Know What We’re Selling
📍 Julep’s analytics dashboard — currently glowing with mild panic and six open tabs titled “HOW TO READ THIS.”
📊 Data is flowing in. No one agrees what any of it means. Some of it may not be real.
The office is quiet except for the hum of the espresso machine, which has decided to rejoin the narrative. A single screen shows the Ghost dashboard. Another shows Shopify. A third shows a meme someone made of RABAGAS saying “Your Loyalty Tier Is a Vibe, Not a Rank.” Ragna paces. JTV is cross-eyed from data. Herman is eating dry cereal from the box.
HERMAN
(chewing)
Okay, so:
Three people clicked the email.
One shared it.
Seventeen opened it, twice.
And one replied “help.”
JTV
That’s the ideal response.
RAGNA
(still pacing)
Check the shop. Did anyone redeem the secret code?
HERMAN
Which one?
JTV
The Icelandic-language one hidden in the PDF’s metadata.
HERMAN
Why do we hate ourselves?
🧭 BEAT ONE: Data as Divination
RAGNA
(staring at bar graph)
This data isn’t telling us anything.
It’s hinting.
JTV
It’s like performance art, but the audience is an algorithm.
HERMAN
(scrolling)
Why are we getting hits from Belgium?
RAGNA
That’s Tier 5. International Ambivalence.
🧭 BEAT TWO: Panic Metrics
JTV
We have a 34% open rate,
a 7% click-through,
and a 100% internal dread quotient.
HERMAN
(sighs)
And someone unsubscribed, but then came back two minutes later.
RAGNA
That’s… honestly beautiful.
She adds a note in the Loyalty Chart: “Re-sub Squad – Give them nothing. They know what they did.”
🧭 BEAT THREE: Misinterpreting the Audience
HERMAN
Okay, but like — what do they think we’re doing?
JTV
They think this is a real loyalty program.
RAGNA
It is real.
Just not measurable.
HERMAN
So what do we do now?
JTV
(slowly)
We lean in.
RAGNA
We write another email.
HERMAN
Another?
🧭 BEAT FOUR: The Next Move
JTV
Yes.
We say:
“You survived Phase One.
Now prove it.”
RAGNA
Make it theatrical.
Tease Tier Ascension.
Add a weird quiz.
HERMAN
A quiz?
RAGNA
“Which RABAGAS Department Are You?”
Possible results include:
Department of Passive Belief
Logistics of Misunderstanding
Seasonal Denial Unit
JTV
Yes.
Let’s make the data fear us.
Ragna slams the laptop closed. The room holds its breath. The coffee machine hisses agreement.
🎭 ACT IV, SCENE 2
The Press Release No One Asked For
📍 Julep’s desk, covered in stickered laptops, a ring light, a crushed dream journal, and a single Post-it that reads: “we are the algorithm.”
📝 Today’s task: write something that explains everything — without explaining anything.
JTV has taken the whiteboard. Ragna has taken a Xanax, or possibly a ginger chew. Herman sits backwards in his chair, inexplicably confident. They’re writing the official press release, which must do five impossible things at once: entice, confuse, include, exclude, and sound like it knows what it’s doing.
JTV
(writing header)
Okay. First rule: this isn’t a blog post. It’s a communiqué.
We’re not “updating our subscribers.”
We’re issuing a statement from a Department That May Not Exist.
RAGNA
Good.
Then we use diplomatic language.
Like: “After internal reconsiderations of external expectations—”
HERMAN
—or “due to the unpredictable behavior of time.”
🧭 BEAT ONE: Naming the Document
They brainstorm names for the release. None of them are normal.
JTV
Possible titles:
A Loyalty Correctional Memo
RABAGAS Tiering Announcement v0.4 (Unstable)
Rewarding the Wrong People: A Statement
You’ve Been Seen. Proceed Accordingly.
RAGNA
No colons. Only chaotic precision.
HERMAN
Can we call it “Tier Leak”?
Sounds scandalous.
JTV
Only if we deny it later.
🧭 BEAT TWO: What It Should Say
RAGNA
(typing)
“This program is not about points.
It’s about presence.
It’s about lingering in the checkout window and wondering who you’ve become.”
JTV
“It’s about clicking on things you don’t understand,
and being rewarded as if you did.”
HERMAN
(adding)
“And sometimes, it’s about getting 10% off socks.”
RAGNA
Optional footnote: “There are no socks.”
🧭 BEAT THREE: Public-Facing FAQs (Absolutely Useless)
JTV
(writing FAQ draft)
Q: What is the Loyalty Machine (1987–∞)?
A: A metaphor. But one you can wear.
Q: How do I earn rewards?
A: You already have. Or you will. Or we’ll pretend.
Q: How do I move up a tier?
A: Experience emotional growth. Or answer the newsletter quiz correctly.
Q: What do I get at Tier 7?
A: The truth.
(Pause)
Q: What is the truth?
A: Please see Tier 9.
🧭 BEAT FOUR: Finalizing the “Statement”
RAGNA
Okay.
Now sign it.
JTV
Who’s signing?
HERMAN
Nobody.
JTV
Exactly.
Let’s stamp it from “The Department of Emotional Logistics.”
Or maybe… “Signed in Shadow, by the Algorithm Itself.”
RAGNA
(smiling)
Perfect.
People will either love this or screenshot it in anger.
Either way — engagement.
JTV hits “Publish.” The post goes live. The room fills with the dull rush of consequence.
🎭 ACT V, SCENE 1
Title: “RABAGAS Rewards: LIVE from the Copy Room”
📍 A folding table. A webcam. Four sticky notes. A tier chart that’s begun to curl.
📡 They said they’d never do a livestream. They lied.
(The camera is live. Sort of. It’s unclear who it’s for. Ragna is centered, wearing a button that says “Don’t Ask Me, I’m Tiered.” JTV is off to the side, pretending to monitor audio. Herman stands like a man preparing to do something irreversible. The setting is lo-fi: printer behind them, disco light flickering somewhere, two fans for drama. A sign taped to the table reads: “RABAGAS Rewards LIVE: Do Not Refresh.”)
RAGNA
(deadpan to camera)
Welcome to the soft launch of Phase Two.
You are watching this because you clicked something strange.
Or because the algorithm regrets underestimating you.
JTV
Either way, you’ve proven… persistence.
HERMAN
(holding clipboard)
And you’ve been assigned a preliminary metaphysical score.
We won’t tell you what it is.
But we feel it’s correct.
🧭 BEAT ONE: The Faux Ceremony
(A small gong is struck. No one acknowledges it.)
RAGNA
Today, three things will happen:
We’ll induct several new ranks.
We’ll reveal a new, incomprehensible badge.
We’ll attempt to explain what RABACOINS are.
JTV
Spoiler: they’re not coins.
They’re a tone of voice.
HERMAN
(to camera)
If you feel confused, don’t worry. That means you’re logged in emotionally.
🧭 BEAT TWO: Tier Inductions (Live)
RAGNA
We have several users to acknowledge:
The user who emailed 5 times to correct our grammar:
Tier 1.1 — Department of Syntax Persistence
The one who ordered the same book three times under different names:
Tier 3.7 — Echo Loyalty
And the one who commented “what is this” on three separate posts:
Tier Unnamed — The Question Itself
(Herman salutes them with a banana peel. No explanation.)
🧭 BEAT THREE: The New Badge
JTV
(displaying a laminated symbol)
We now present:
The Absurd Loyalty Seal (Experimental)
It does nothing.
It cannot be redeemed.
It may show up on your account.
It may not.
RAGNA
If it does, you are obligated to say nothing.
If it doesn’t, you are still bound by silence.
HERMAN
You’ll know if you earned it.
Or you won’t.
The seal doesn’t care.
🧭 BEAT FOUR: What Are RABACOINS?
RAGNA
At this time, we would like to not explain RABACOINS.
JTV
But we will define their energy.
HERMAN
They are issued in bursts.
They are not cumulative.
They respond to vibes, comments, and ethically murky behavior.
RAGNA
RABACOINS are like karma.
But less pure.
🧭 BEAT FIVE: Closing the Ritual
(Lights dim slightly. A new email dings in the background. Ragna closes the laptop with theatrical finality.)
RAGNA
And with that, the Phase Two preview concludes.
JTV
If you were here, you are now part of the internal canon.
HERMAN
And if you weren’t… you still might be.
RAGNA
(to camera)
Thank you for your loyalty.
We never asked for it.
But we will name a tier after you.
(The camera feed flickers. Somewhere in Belgium, a user receives a push notification: “You’ve been upgraded to Tier Folly.”)
(The screen goes black. The Loyalty Machine purrs.)
🎭 ACT V, SCENE 2
Title: “Backstage Debrief and Lore Adjustment”
📍 The copy room after dark. A half-eaten tray of snacks. The livestream is over, but no one has left.
🧃 There’s a general hum of exhaustion, mixed with awe. Someone has lit a candle. No one claims responsibility.
(The livestream has ended. Ragna is collapsed on a folding chair. Herman is cross-referencing Discord screenshots with real names, which no one asked him to do. JTV is attempting to write the postmortem but keeps getting distracted by messages like “I feel changed.” A single post-it note on the wall reads: “This wasn’t supposed to work.”)
RAGNA
We did a show about nothing.
And it… meant something.
HERMAN
I have seventeen screenshots of people asking if we’re okay.
JTV
Are we?
RAGNA
(honestly)
No.
🧭 BEAT ONE: Quiet Shock
JTV
They believed in it.
The Tiers. The coins. The symbol.
We made a symbol, Ragna.
RAGNA
We didn’t make a symbol.
We made a gap.
And they filled it.
HERMAN
They named themselves.
They made fan theories.
One of them wrote a poem about Tier 3.
JTV
Was it any good?
HERMAN
No.
But the effort was sincere.
🧭 BEAT TWO: Micro Mythology Corrections
(JTV pulls up the unofficial wiki. It exists now. It has over 60 pages. Ragna has already edited five of them.)
RAGNA
Okay. We need to establish what’s canon.
Before the next drop.
HERMAN
We don’t have a next drop.
JTV
They think we do.
That’s enough.
RAGNA
Then we need to plant some fakes.
Tier 6 should include a riddle.
Tier 9 should reference a document that doesn’t exist.
JTV
Add a broken link called “truth.pdf”
HERMAN
Should we invent a banned tier?
RAGNA
Yes.
Call it “Tier NULL”
And make the page redirect to a blank post with the title: “It’s not for you.”
🧭 BEAT THREE: Emotional Debrief
(They pause. The room is quiet. There’s an energy neither celebration nor regret. Just… weight.)
RAGNA
Do you think they liked it?
JTV
Does it matter?
HERMAN
It made them feel like they mattered.
RAGNA
(softly)
That’s dangerously close to sincerity.
JTV
I’ll allow it.
Once.
🧭 BEAT FOUR: Preparing for Non-Closure
HERMAN
What if they ask for more?
JTV
We give them fragments.
A single phrase. A visual.
An empty envelope marked “Internal Use Only.”
RAGNA
We let the machine hum.
Let them wonder who’s still feeding it.
HERMAN
And we act like we don’t know what they’re talking about.
JTV
Perfect.
We give them loyalty.
And deny that we ever promised anything.
(They clink paper cups of flat soda. The printer behind them whirs. It ejects a blank page.)
RAGNA
That’s the final report.
Exactly as planned.
🎭 ACT V, SCENE 3
Title: “Ghosts of Loyalty Past”
📍 A slow pan through the RABAGAS archive. Echoes of emails, digital breadcrumbs, and one unopened envelope marked “You Were Always Here.”
📁 The past campaigns murmur quietly. The Loyalty Machine no longer hums — it breathes.
(The redaksjon is empty. Not abandoned — just resting. Lights low. Inboxes paused. Somewhere, the Tier Chart has been rolled up and tucked into a drawer. JTV returns alone to the copy room. He carries nothing but a flash drive and two questions he won’t ask aloud. On a desk: an old printout titled “RABAGAS Loyalty Draft v1.” It has coffee stains.)
JTV
(to no one)
We started this because we didn’t want to sell out.
And then we made a system for selling in.
(He sits. The printer light blinks once, then stills.)
🧭 BEAT ONE: The Archive Speaks
(He opens the Ghost dashboard. Clicks “Drafts.” Scrolls. The titles are ridiculous:)
“Rewards for Emotional Weather Patterns”
“Tier 4.5: For Those Who Waited Quietly”
“The Coins Are a Lie (But Also Real)”
“Backstage Pass to Regret”
(He smiles.)
JTV
We made all of this up.
And they believed us.
And then… we did too.
🧭 BEAT TWO: Unsent Messages
(He opens the newsletter composer. A half-written message stares back.)
“Dear reader,
We know you didn’t sign up for this.
But you stayed.
You clicked things. You asked questions.
You played along.
And whether you bought a book or just watched from the shadows —
That counts here.”
(He closes it gently. Hits “Save as Draft.”)
🧭 BEAT THREE: A Signal in the Static
(The inbox pings. One new message. From an unlisted address.
Subject line: “I never understood it, but it felt like a home.”)
(He doesn’t reply. He forwards it to Ragna with the note: “Add this to Tier 0.”)
🧭 BEAT FOUR: The Closing Note
(He leaves behind one new page. It’s blank except for a single sentence.)
“Loyalty is what you do when no one is rewarding you for it.”
(Then he powers down the screen. Walks out. The lights remain on, just slightly. Enough to invite someone back.)
✨ END OF SCENE
✨ END OF PLAY
