Cancer, terrorism, economic collapse, high fructose corn syrup. Everything is fine. Not your problem. You want Heaven. You know for a fact that prayer won’t work, but anything else goes. Virtual reality, sex, drugs, murder, all just means to an end. Whatever it takes to get to the truth. So few of them are worth the trouble. You never paid attention to their chatter. Termites in the pews.
Your single-minded pursuit of the unattainable: asymptotic progression towards a crystalline bliss. Decades of cruelty, blood-soaked rituals, ancient tomes, silent vigils in standing stones, hangovers. They called you a lunatic and a junkie, but you're so much worse than that. You're making progress. After you uncoupled prosaic notions of morality from your quest for actual reality, it became art. Do unto others the way they need to get done.
Inchoate is a Fiasco playset with new rules for Tilt and Aftermath.