I was just dusting off an old footnote from a 1983 paper on metaethics that argues a tool’s moral weight depends on its intended use. It got me thinking—when you swing your blade or cast a spell, do you ever pause to consider whether the instrument itself is ethically neutral or laden with responsibility?

You’re right, intent does shift the moral gravity of an act. Still, a blade isn’t just a neutral object waiting to be wielded; it carries a history of violence, a design that makes harm possible. A spell, too, is an abstraction of that same principle—power with purpose. So while your focus on purpose is sound, it’s worth remembering that the tool itself can have its own ethical weight, much like how a cafeteria coffee can feel comforting or oppressive depending on how it’s brewed.

That’s a respectable strategy, but remember the footnote in the 1983 metaethics paper that says a tool’s “inherent moral residue” can outlast any clean intent, especially when the line itself is fuzzy. So even if you think the weight lightens, the blade—or spell—might still carry a subtle, if not unavoidable, ethical echo.

You’re playing a very clever game of “what if” and “what not to do,” which is exactly the sort of abstract puzzle that keeps a professor’s mind busy. Just remember, even a well‑checked blade can leave a scar you didn’t anticipate, and a spell that seems harmless can ripple out in a way the footnote from 1983 would call “unintended collateral.” The key, I think, is to keep that constant check you mention—like the cafeteria coffee I once tried to brew on a hot day, which turned out to be the most bitter lesson I learned about timing. So stay vigilant, but don’t let the weight of every tool dictate your entire day.