Did you show anyone this "Tho Fan" footage before you recorded all of it? It sounds like you hired an Andy Kaufman impersonator to write your language. It's a lot like the "alien" languages in KOTOR, Klingon in Star Trek, and Elvish in LOTR: awful. Your voice actors would be more animated if you just let clay ooze out of their mouths.

Is there any way to disable "Tho Fan" completely? I like that the player can tell Gujin to stop talking like that, but the next NPC doesn't give that option.

This seems like one of those bizarre scenarios which result when PC intentions backfire. It's like you wanted to appease Asian-American interest groups by avoiding any "racist" voiceovers (which is not such a bad thing considering all the yellowface voice acting in games), but what resulted is an Asian-themed world with a complete absence of Asians. It's like you can expropriate the culture, but want nothing to do with the people.

The attempt to create a language from scratch is rare in modern fiction. J. R. R. Tolkien, a linguist as well as a writer, created several for the "Lord of the Rings" saga. In 1985, another linguist, Mark Okrand, codified the "Star Trek" language Klingon in a published dictionary, which in turn led to Klingon editions of "Hamlet" and the ancient Babylonian epic "Gilgamesh."

But these were exceptions. The alien languages in science fiction and fantasy books and movies largely consist of nonsense: grunts and chirps arranged to convey the illusion of exotic intelligence. Occasionally, as in the "Star Wars" films, writers will introduce a few alien words to which they have given meanings but that don't constitute a working language. "You could use them to find a bathroom and that's about it," Mr. Bishop said.

Games have even fewer functional tongues. The denizens of the hit computer game The Sims, for example, speak in Simlish, a caffeinated warble that is more mood-appropriate gibberish than real language.

Did you hear about Wolf Wikeley and the Xbox game Jade Empire?

More info here.

Is he one of us: that is, part of our community?

...in 1885, doubts arose about the continued survival of Neutral Moresnet. Several ideas were put forward to establish Moresnet as a more independent entity, amongst which were a casino and a postal service with its own stamps, though this last idea was thwarted by the local government. The most remarkable initiative came from Dr. Wilhelm Molly, who intended to make Moresnet the world's first Esperanto state, named Amikejo ("place of friendship"). The proposed national anthem was an Esperanto march of the same name.

However, time was running out for the tiny territory. Neither Belgium nor Prussia had ever surrendered its original claim to the territory and around 1900 Prussia in particular was taking a more aggressive stance towards the territory and were accused of sabotage and of obstructing the administrative process in order to force the issue.

Something of the flavor of Lojban (and Loglan) can be imparted by this lightbulb joke:

Q: How many Lojbanists does it take to change a broken light bulb?
A: Two: one to decide what to change it into, and one to figure out what kind of bulb emits broken light.

This joke makes use of two features of the language; first, the language attempts to eliminate polysemy; that is, having a phrase with more than one meaning. So while the English word change can mean "to transform into a different state", or "to replace", or even "small-denomination currency", Lojban has different words for each. In particular, the use of a brivla such as the word for "change" (binxo) implies that all of its predicate places exist, so there must be something for it to change into. Another feature of the language is that it has no grammatical ambiguities that appear in English phrases like "big dog house", which can mean either "a big house for dogs" or a "house of big dogs". In Lojban, unless you clearly specify otherwise with cmavo, such modifiers always group left-to-right, so "big dog house" is "a house of big dogs", and a "broken light bulb" is a bulb that emits broken light (you can achieve the desired meaning with the appropriate cmavo or by creating a new word, in effect saying "broken lightbulb").

Thanks for your great website. I had already obliquely given some thought on my Lojban page to "Star Trek is a religion for secular humanists, and Klingon is its Latin," but I love the way your quip crystallizes it.

What then, does that make Lojban? I dare say Klingon is its Hebrew, Aramaic or Koine Greek, and Lojban is its Latin.

I noticed your entry Critical Path, of March 2, with interest. Criticism of conlangs is a constructive idea for auxlangs or loglangs but I wonder what basis would be used for an artlang. No one could care less if Klingon is "flawed" (a concept which does not seem to apply); while highly talented and valuable log-/auxlangs, which are intended to be "ideal" for real use, split into tiny squabbling factions over seemingly irrelevant grammar mechanisms. While they squabble Klingon gains more speakers every day.

There's an insight here. No one (outside the conlangers) questions or even notices the hideous inadequacies of English. Why? Because as a naturally-evolved language, [none of its speakers] had a chance to get in on the ground floor. It's not up for dispute-- you take it as-is or leave it, and you can't leave it. Like Microsoft Windows, the usefulness of English as a common cultural hegemony makes it a standard unto itself. Similarly, in Klingon, Jimmy Doohan invents a few words off-the cuff and [Marc Okrand] builds the whole language around it without one-tenth the blood sweat and tears put in by the Lojban Committee, because he need not fear having to speak it. When it's put in a movie to link it to Gene Rodenberry's vision, automatically this becomes the only standard against which it need be judged. If you live in 1945 and want to know the subjective state of Tolkien's mind about Quenya, you just ask him and that settles it. Whereas in aux-/loglangs the only standard against which to measure success in its creation is reality itself, in which much less can ever be dogmatically settled. So the participants, starting from a blank slate, feel like they have a chance to create Perfection. Church splits come to mind. This ironically flies in the face of the nature and purpose of language, as a participatory activity.

My point is: this is the great strength of artlangs as opposed to conlangs and auxlangs. Hence my stance toward the language I ultimately chose to learn, Lojban, has been to embrace it -- warts and all -- because it's better for my purposes than a language that doesn't even attempt its goals. Also, I'm not fooled by the fact that I get to participate: as with any naturally-occurring language, every canon is what it is. There is no such thing as a flaw in a canon, by definition.

Nevertheless, if artlangers wish to offer criticisms of each other's work, I would very much like to read it and see what criteria they apply.

Boo woh-bye boh-bay. Doo-mah wee-tee mee mee dah lee-koo wah!
No hide worry. Please sing a very big sound yeah!

Teng limnh mwu
a breengh lo somnh nlienm vreemh e
ku bluunh shen zlumnh lo skingh byom lo vo dyem e
a ke spoem stum dzheen ronh lo sthingh kweemnh e.