The Festival of Shūjāō

by

Finley Vorden

Shūjāō's followers maintain that joy itself represents a form of spiritual transcendence, so if you're looking for a quiet, contemplative religious experience, may I suggest literally any other festival?

Shūjāō himself has no formal temples; instead, his worship happens in taverns, festival grounds, private homes, and whenever people gather in genuine camaraderie. This theological approach means his festivals can erupt spontaneously anywhere sufficient alcohol and musical instruments converge. I've witnessed impromptu celebrations in marketplace squares, aboard merchant vessels, and once memorably in a customs office when particularly creative travelers convinced the guards to join their “religious observance.”

Shūjāō's festival begins at sunset and theoretically ends at dawn, though enthusiastic communities have been known to extend celebrations until either the alcohol runs out or someone remembers they have actual responsibilities. Opening ceremonies involve communal toasts where participants share stories of joy, triumph, or embarrassing mishaps.

Traditional activities include competitive storytelling, elaborate drinking games, impromptu theatrical performances, etc. Shūjāō's festivals feature games ranging from traditional dice and cards to elaborate physical challenges that seem designed by someone with a questionable understanding of human anatomy. I participated in a contest that involved balancing increasingly absurd objects while reciting poetry, which sounds simple until you're trying to compose verses about turnips while supporting a potted plant, two loaves of bread, and someone’s pet ferret.

The “Sacred Competitions” deserve special mention. These range from eating contests featuring local delicacies to elaborate treasure hunts that send teams scrambling across entire districts searching for items like “something that once belonged to someone famous” or “the third-prettiest flower you can find.”

Practical Survival Tips

Pace yourself. This cannot be overstated. Shūjāō's festivals operate on marathon principles, not sprint timelines. I learned this lesson after attempting to match pace with a seasoned Revelator who turned out to have been training for this specific celebration for six months.

Bring comfortable shoes and clothes you don't mind losing, staining, or discovering in unexpected places the next morning. Festival activities tend to be physically demanding and creatively messy.

Learn at least three jokes and one song before attending. You will be called upon to perform, and claiming you “don't know any” will result in well-meaning strangers teaching you increasingly risqué ballads until you surrender and share something, anything, to make them stop.

Keep emergency funds separate from gambling money. The distinction will become important around hour eleven when someone suggests that high-stakes game involving painted stones and what appears to be local tax law.

The Morning After

Shūjāō's festivals traditionally conclude with communal breakfast and story-sharing sessions where participants attempt to reconstruct the previous evening's events. The cleanup process has become a celebration in itself, with communities working together to restore festival sites while discovering amusing evidence of the previous night's revelries. Finding someone’s forgotten hat in a tree or their shoe in a soup pot becomes part of the ongoing celebration narrative.