I was once asked about my work at a party only to have a total stranger interrupt and announce, “Oh, you study freaks.” Debating with ignorant people is a frustrating task. There is a special place in heaven for those who can do this without losing their patience. To say that, “vampires don’t exist,” is patently absurd. As a social reality, vampires absolutely exist. It really doesn’t matter whether their claims will ever be confirmed by science. Geneticists argue over whether the concept of “race” has any scientific basis, but this hardly means that the privileges and prejudices associated with race will go away if we simply pretend that “race” doesn’t exist.
Similarly, to say that, “it’s all in their head,” is an unwarranted dismissal that illuminates noting. In the 17th century, the philosopher René Descartes showed that the reality “in our heads” is the only reality we have. I could hit a man with my car and tell him, “You aren’t really hurt, it’s all in your head.” At that point, it would be my subjective experience against his. With further evidence—testimony from witnesses, x-rays, etc., we might safely conclude that the accident victim’s version of events was correct, and mine was wrong. With vampires, we are only beginning to collect this kind of evidence. We don’t even know what kind of evidence would be needed to support or refute the experiences that vampires are describing. Ultimately, we can never experience anyone else’s reality, so it is highly presumptuous to pass judgment on experiences that we are not privy to.
This is not to say that whenever I do research, I take everything the subject says at face value. However, we have to maintain what is sometimes called “epistemological modesty.” This means acknowledging that even when we are skeptical of someone else’s worldview, we must be open to the possibility that we might be wrong and they might actually be right.
Joseph Laycock, “Vampires Today: The Truth about Vampires”
Len shoves a sword into a black guy but gets tentacle raped. Gakupo tells his life story and Kise cries, so the black guy turns into a fountain of rainbow mix. Aomine rains dead people from the sky, makes Big Bird out of ghosts, and tosses it into the sky. Then the guy who thought he was at a masquerade ran away and got fucked up by Fishlord’s sword which was actually a huge fucking laser. And then a morgue ran up and hugged Aokise.
nothing… other than so that this happens…
No, most likely I’d be either dead or really, really messed up in the head (think Frankenstein).
So if you have a dead person and take the brain and swap it with another dead person’s…
Anyway, assuming by some miracle I live to tell the tale, there are several schools of thought of what would happen with my soul, which would theoretically be the root position of my consciousness.
If you take the crown chakra to be the central gateway and anchorpoint, I would most definitely end up a different person unless the brain transplant was done somehow to mitigate that effect, in which case I might end up the same, just with my brain all screwed up.
If you take the root chakra as the center and anchorpoint, I might have a good chance of ending up with my soul intact.
If you reject the entire chakra system, then the seat of consciousness may be in the brain itself, so in that case, yes I would end up a different person.
If you reject soul anchoring, then yes I might stay the same person.
If you believe all this metaphysical stuff is bullcrap, then you would probably believe that then entirely of identity is resulting from physical continuity, in which case no you would not be the same person.
Of course I might just be reading too much into your ask and maybe you just want to toss Theseus’ paradox at me, in which case I would retort by tossing psychic signature at you, which doesn’t change even as parts are replaced.