[veritas]

Originally Posted by Strikta

ENTJ

ENTJ Warlord

(Not done yet!)
"Your destruction is not my goal, but merely a stepping stone to higher ends."
Charm: Oratical
Adaptability: Average
Planning: Grand schemer
Survival Preparations: Diligent
Weapons Skill: Average
Intelligence: Masterful
Warm Fuzzies: Antarctic
Leadership: Imperial
At the Point of No Return
When the nuclear holocaust comes, the ENTJs will instantly mobilize all their assets—their spouse, children, dog, parents, grandparents, ex-girlfriend/boyfriend, next door neighbors, coworkers, the mailman, and any passerbys—and form a militia that they will drill incessantly in an underground radiation shelter. Even the dog will learn to field strip an AK-47 in under a minute, and will become one of the most loyal soldiers.
By the time the radiation has diminished to what is now considered the new “safe” level, the ENTJ will have a pocket army ready to do his or her bidding. Some might be satisfied at this point, but for the ENTJ it is only the beginning of a more far-ranging strategy.
They will choose a small rural town and order their army to seize the major's office; the coup will be swift and bloodless. Although the townspeople will initially be resentful, the ENTJ will soon come to be regarded as a folk hero since his army will hold back the incursions of zombies, mutants and INTJ Masterminds.
Now that the ENTJ has a base of operations, it is time for stage two: digging an underground rocket silo. At this point the borders of the town will be sealed and no one will go in or out without being observed by hidden cameras. Strangers will have the creepy feeling of being watched and hasten on their way. The townspeople will become a taciturn, surly lot with cultlike solidarity.
Good job! It's time to begin stage three.
When the silo is complete and the rocket has been installed, the ENTJ has two choices. First, he can incorporate a nuke and try to blackmail the world with it. Unfortunately there's not much left to blow up at this point. So instead, the ENTJ will fill the rocket with terraforming supplies, load up the best of the workers, scientists and soldiers, and head off to Mars to begin a new chapter in the destiny of humanity. When he arrives on Mars, stage four will commence.
Unfortunately, several million other ENTJs are also at stage four. The supply of Martian ice is limited, and nobody has any fuel left. On the plus side, this will give us an invaluable opportunity to study the sociological organization of an ENTJ-only society.
Of course, there will be a few ENTJs whose projects were sabotaged by annoying ESTP Troubleshooters or a strike of the slave labor union, delaying their launch schedule. As they sit in their throne room, brooding over the delay, a messenger will arrive and tentatively inform them that Mars has spontaneously combusted from unknown causes, possibly a new INTJ superweapon. There goes plan A.
Plan B involves copious amounts of evil laughter, which always gets the creative juices flowing. After giving the matter some serious thought, the ENTJ will decide to conquer the world as a stepping stone on the way to bigger objectives—such as finding a spouse. (A difficult proposition since the INFP Mystics have mysteriously turned into dustbunnies and the ESTJ Commanders have all taken their toys and headed underground.)
In fact, save for their bohemian lifestyle, the ENTJs who are left on Earth will have it pretty easy at this point. The tragic combustion of the Martian ENTJ population and the mass exodus of the ESTJs will leave a huge power vacuum that will be quickly filled by a relatively small number of individuals. These ENTJs will take over the nearby cities and become warlords and tyrant queens. Their territories will grow and grow, until one fateful day they touch.
In a way, this will be a good thing. The ENTJs were getting tired of easy victory and wanted a real challenge. Even their favorite sport of ESTP hunting was losing its luster, and the ENTJs were beginning to sink into existential depression. But now they will be delighted to devote their enormous energies to the task of destroying their fellow ENTJs.
Fortunately for the rest of humanity, the battles will be diffuse enough that they will not result in the spontaneous combustion of the planet. Unfortunately, they will be fierce enough that not even the mutated African hissing cockroaches will be able to survive in the resulting no-man's land. There will be winners and losers, and eventually the world population of ENTJs will be reduced to a viable number, say three.
One of them will end up holed up Australia, fighting a losing battle as they try to buy time to breed an army of mutant battle kangaroos. Another ENTJ will make the mistake of trying to hold Asia, but his opponent will make the even worse mistake of mounting a winter campaign against Moscow. (A somewhat inevitable situation, given the ongoing state of nuclear winter.) Once the two superpowers have duked it out to exhaustion and their frostbitten armies are spread paper thin, the Aussies will emerge and begin a blitzkrieg. The weakened ENTJs will be helpless against the hopping hoardes.
Solving the Spouse Problem
Once you have subdued the frozen fools, the world will be your apple. With laughable ease, you will conquer the rest of continents and achieve total world domination. For awhile, it will be fun. You'll have plenty to do:
Reduce crime by eliminating ESTPs and INTJs
Build an ultimate fortress that can fly
Restore the transportation system
Defend coastal cities from giant saurian mutants with fusion breath
Breed an army of saurian mutants in flying mecha suits
Build robotic versions of saurian mutants
Breed tiny lapdog-sized saurian mutants and keep them as pets
Crossbreed saurian mutants with battle kangaroos to create giant kangaroos with fusion flame breath
Hunt ESTPs and INTJs for sport with giant fusion-breathing kangaroos
Establish crime preserves to protect the world's dwindling supplies of ESTPs and INTJs
Crossbreed ESTPs and INTJs and hunt their terrifying ENTP spawn for sport
Fix the economy
Unfortunately, at this point you will start running out of ideas. Life will grow dull, and you will wonder what the point of your existence is. Worst still, you will have the sudden realization that you are the last of the ENTJs...the only one of your kind.
ENTJs have no weaknesses, but occasionally—in strict privacy—they will exercise their atrophied tear glands just in case they have to strangle an enemy with them.
One day, while performing one-glanded pushups to the accompaniment of intellectually stimulating violin music, there will be a knock on your door. Wiping the sweat from your cheek, you go to answer it. It is your trusty captain of the guards.
“Sir,” he says, “We captured a mutant trying to get into the base. Would you like to interrogate them or shall we throw them into a vat of nuclear waste?”
“I'll interrogate them,” you respond listlessly. Perhaps a good interrogation will recharge your extravert batteries, which were getting low because you've been spending so much time alone. Not bothering to straighten your wrinkled cape, you sigh and head down to the interrogation room.
When you get to the interrogation room you are surprised to find yourself looking at a rather attractive young mutant with wide pink eyes, soft pink hair, and a pair of delicate white wings. As you are to find out, she is an INFP Mystic. Your trusty guards have already put a psych-inhibitor collar around her neck to prevent her from trying to assassinate you.
“What brings you to my fortress, foolish creature?” you snarl, though not with your usual enthusiasm. The INFP's large, expressive eyes begin to fill with quivering tears, causing your lip to curl in rather hypocritical contempt. You've seen the ESTPs do far better before you tossed them into vats of nuclear waste.
In a voice of frightened nobility, the INFP declares, “I have come to speak to you about the plight of the ESTPs.”
“What, did they run out of beer again?” you ask, annoyed at your favorite prey's growing sense of entitlement.
“You're hunting them down like animals—for sport!” the INFP cries.
“What of it? They like it,” you respond.
“They do not!” the INFP says, aghast at your blunt yet accurate assessment of the ESTP attitude towards your activities. But you are always up for a good argument.
“Of course they do,” you say reasonably. You will then outline several excellent proofs for why the ESTPs enjoy the system that you put into place. Chiefly, I.) They like excitement, and you provide that in spades; II.) They are lazy, and appreciate the easy life in the preserves; III.) They breed like rats, and if you didn't hunt them, they would overpopulate their habitat and turn to cannibalism. But none of this will make the slightest dent on the INFP's beliefs, which are based on feelings rather than logic. Her response will be a passionate emotional outpouring of compassion for the “poor” ESTPs. This outburst will not make the slightest dent on your beliefs, which are based on logic rather than feelings. You are frustrated at your utter inability to communicate with this strange creature. No doubt she is a Liberal-Arts major. Still...
“Shall I throw her into a vat of nuclear waste?” your captain of the guards asks, sensing that the conversation has come to a close.
“No, have her taken to the guest chamber for further interrogation,” you reply, half of you wondering why you are sparing her. Misery loves company, you rationalize, and perhaps you will enjoy more debate with this irrational mutant later.
That afternoon you take nasty satisfaction in hunting ESTPs and having them thrown into vats of nuclear waste. After a hard day's hunting, you go the locked “guest” chamber and show yourself in with an unpleasant smile of satisfaction. The INFP looks up at your entrance with the expression of a startled fawn. You had intended to brag about your exploits, but somehow the look in those strangely colored eyes makes you feel ashamed.
“Er...are you enjoying your accommodations?” you say brusquely, trying to regain your lost initiative.
“Since you've decided to keep me prisoner I suppose I have no choice,” she says with a brave, martyred expression. You had expected a snappy ESTP comeback, and her acceptance of the situation catches you off guard.
“Get used to it!” you growl. “You'll be here a long time!” With a dramatic flourish of your cape, you stalk out. But ESTP hunting will never be the same again afterwards.
Whenever you feel depressed and frustrated, you will take to visiting your guest to vent your feelings, though of course you won't cry so much as obsessively clean the guest chamber, which she will turn into a Perceiver rat's nest. At first you will tell yourself that arguing with her makes you feel better, but after awhile it will become painfully apparent, even to you, that she herself actually makes you feel better. A strange but pleasant feeling seizes you whenever you meet her over-sized eyes. You try to find ways of being nice to her, such as providing her with internet access and books of poetry and fantasy. (She will like these better than the physics textbooks you got her earlier.) After awhile it will become obvious that you are defeated.
Sighing, you call your trusty Gamekeeper. “Tell the ESTPs that hunting season is closed for the foreseeable future. I'm shutting down the preserves.”
The INFP will be delighted with you and throw her arms around you in a gooey hug. Normally you dislike hugs and all forms of physical contact, but this time it won't be so bad. Your subordinates will think you've lost your mind as you walk around your fortress grinning stupidly and giving them unjustified compliments on their performance.
Of course the ESTPs will raise a howl of protest the next day when there are no items for them to loot in the shops. But you never cared much about what the masses thought of your decisions, because you base your decisions on logic and are therefore right 99% of the time (unless it involves feelings).
Infinitely adaptable, the ESTPs will next begin making up mocking songs about you, hoping to goad you into hunting them and reestablishing the preserves. This will irritate you—they really know how to hit where it hurts—but you will hold firm, if only to spite them.
Finally they will somehow find out the truth (curse them). At this point they will put on their most pathetic faces and drape themselves miserably across the steps of your fortress, where the INFP will see them and be filled with pity.
“Oh dear,” she says in her soft little voice. “What's wrong?”
Wretchedly the ESTPs look up, tears filling their soulless black eyes. You shoot them a look of disgust, but they pretend not to notice. The most persuasive ESTP falls to his knees and makes an impassioned plea for the reestablishment of the preserves and the hunting season, which shocks the INFP. You fight the urge to say “I told you so.”
At this, the INFP will dither, not certain what to say, and finally you will step in with a compromise and offer to reestablish the preserves and hunt the ESTPs with harmless tranquilizer darts. They will instantly agree and thank the INFP with lavish flatteries, totally ignoring you. They know who holds the real power now.
Well, at least that’s one problem out of the way. With your INFP spouse at your side, you can move into the next phase of your life: Feelings.