A Dream of Kensei

Work and life have been pretty hard the past few weeks. My days have been spent doing the 9-5 grind, and my nights have been spent doing writing for various writing projects. Add the occasional con or event, and I'm more or less putting down three jobs with only one of them paying right now.

Meanwhile, I've been dreaming of Kensei, the world martial arts tournament larp I've been working on for almost three years now. It's been hard going. I knew that making a boffer larp that was explicitly Character vs Character was going to be difficult. Most boffers are made with the characters taken on the Environment taking on the fore, with most of the CvC having to conform to those rules, oft times with major imbalances in mechanics. I didn't realize what kind of animal I was trying to tackle.

I researched a lot of material, from martial arts movies up and down the gambit (the Jean Claude Van Dam library has a lot of these) , to movies about sports tournaments, to video games and comic book arcs. I've even gotten back in to watching WWE again (As I'm writing this, I'm watching one of the best women's wrestling match ever on Wrestlemania). I wanted to understand how one could tell a story through violence, what brings people in to these situations, what are the stakes entering and what happens after the fight?

I'm still working on the details. The devil is in the mechanics. The problem is to make the game 1) fun 2) balanced and 3) as inclusive as possible. I am not a mechanics man, but the scaffolding is slowly being built. Metatopia 2015 was a big boon for me, helping me narrow down my view on the game in terms of "this is what people do and are here for."

But what's been sitting in my mind recently is how I would love to have this game played. How I want it to look when this is all said and done. I see games happening four to six times a year, no more or less. It takes place on a campground somewhere, a place that allows for sprawling views (and relatively soft ground). It also allows for events that can go on for a few days as tournaments and matches can happen during the night. An ingame radio (or hell, a podcast, technology exists here) is playing music and keeping the grounds (and people not at game) aware of the goings on.

The fights go on, the merchants sell off their wares at a part of the camp while the med techs have taken over another section to work on medical issues that happen. The reporters have dug in somewhere in to some bullpen that's a cross between William Gibson and Hunter S Thompson. The Schools have meetings in cabins at night, run promos during the day. The local underworld elements make deals and sell on the side while hiding from the authorities or worse, the press.

And all the while, the powers that be play their games. Agents and Sponsors move about, watching for ways to lobby

I don't want this to be a game just about beating each other with sticks. That's stupid. I want this to be a story about competition told through violence. What brings people to fight and compete against one another? What are the stakes? I want the roleplay to fuel the matches, and the matches to create more roleplay.

And, at the end of the 'season' of events is the big event. The blowout, where storylines can change and the stakes really matter. Right now, I have the makings of a three-five year arc. It's in my head, and I'd love to get as many people involved.

But  that's when we get this off the ground. First there needs to be smaller events, to tweak the mechanics, to build interest. It's going to need players invested. It's going to need people wanting to help make the game. This game is going to require a lot of marshalls on deck, both to officiate the matches and to make sure that the rules are being fulfilled in the spirit in which they are intended.

First we need to make it real, then we get to live the dream.

Later.

Dreamation 2016

So I feel like I just had a rough make out session with an angry steam roller. You know what that means, I just helped run Dresden Lives at Dreamation 2016. The con drop is pretty severe this time around. I described it to people that my drawer of spoons--the metaphor for my social-emotional energy reserves--was not only empty before I got to the convention, it was on fire. Work has not been entirely gentle on me (hence the lack of blogging) and I have been catching up on five different kinds of writing and sleep. Is it possible to get con drop before walking in to the con? I'm pretty sure I got close to that answer.

It was a full docket at Dreamation. Working with Phoenix Outlaw Productions, I helped to run three games. The first of them was the Time Traveler's After Hours. Set in Death (of the Endless)'s bar, famous time travelers from fiction met, snarked, and generally fucked up time in six different directions. The first thing I heard walking in was hearing someone yell "Okay! Who made Biff Tannen the president of the United States." Things went downhill fast after that. Time broke up in to multiple fractured lines. The US was removed from existence in one, roving bands of Mongol Death Metal Hordes thrashed across the steppes in another. Taco Bell became the dominant mega power in another (thanks Deadpool), massive Brains took over the universe, discovered the internet, and effectively became the four-chan version of the Borg. The Kender and Deadpool engaged in a revolution using mind controlled dinosaurs, only to fall to civil war. Then came the Dead-Kender Accords, and all was well in that world.

Some other timelines...weren't as lucky. Neutrino Bombs claimed one timeline, The Warcraft Wars spilled blood everywhere wave after wave of ceaseless expansions. But all that was constant was that England was spared in a great time bubble protected by its four greatest guardians: John, Paul, George, and Ringo. The storytelling was pretty light here, and was mostly at the whim of the players. It was honestly the funniest experience I've ever had, and there were many times where I had to stop drawing the timeline in order to compose myself.

Afterwards was a haze of hanging out and catching up with friends I had not seen in a while, including the Outlaws. I'd forgotten how much I'd missed interactions with people, and very much loved talking and even just listening to conversations. Just that level of interaction kept me going until the wee hours. I wasn't on the hook for anything until Friday afternoon, I could afford for once to be a night person again.

Friday afternoon was the first of our Dresden games. While connected to our modern game, this was set in the 1930's. It's always amazing to see a lot of players from our normal game come in to try something a little new. Some came in as new characters, others came in as ancestors of their or other players modern characters. It was interesting to watch people who had worked with each other for years as one set of characters find a different tack. A lot of the first hour or so was just getting everyone settled in, and then we'd make the plot go.

It was a fun take, that ended in sacrifice and destruction. All in all, it set the bar for what people should have expected for the modern game on saturday night. We'll get to that in a moment.

After that was my friend Ericka's game of Agents of SHIELD, set in the era of Agent Carter. As much as I wanted to play the game, I knew my limit. I had fun, but I was burned and knew that I was on the hook for two more games back-to-back saturday. I opted out, and heard rave reviews from those I spoke to.

The rest of my night was spent in the lobby, again listening and talking to others. I actually did try to work on Kensei and some lightsaber stuff, but those books ended up never leaving my pocket. I got in to a lot of heated debates about Star Wars, and did get to go on a twenty minute diatribe about Kensei and all the things I'd like to do and things that need to be done for it. So far, people seem interested. Now, I think, it's time to build a team and make that sucker happen.

Saturday morning was the Dystopia Rising mod. All of my friends and roomates are, or were, staff at one or more of the numerous DR games that have swept the nation. To say I was the vocal minority in the "fuck, please, no, I need sleep" category is to make an understatement. I did however go down for a bit to say hello and wish people good luck. Then Michael Pucci, co-founder of Dystopia and its parent Eschaton Media, looked at me and said "You wanna take a peek?"

So I got a tour of the game space. Michael wanted to simulate a hurricane in post-apocalyptia. Now, I want to remind you all that we were in a hotel in Morristown New Jersey. But it's amazing what you can do with several industrial fans, some spray bottles, a sound and lighting system I'd kill for for New York Jedi, and a mad-genius mentality. Folks, they put a goddamned hurricane in to a hotel ballroom.

I left the game area with the very strong impression that Michael is the evil mirror universe version of Willy Wonka...and that room was the psychedelic gondola.

I took the rest of the morning to pick up a few things. Of them was the World Wide Wrestling RPG. It was my first time with a system Powered By the Apocalypse, and I think I'm going to do a review of it in the coming weeks. I'm not the only Outlaw who has it, and I'm pretty sure that one day soon we'll be having the Phoenix Cup tournament. (Pretty Please?)

The afternoon saw ExArcana. This was my first game working as a marshall for them. The rules for ExA and Chronos are both very straightforward and very different and really do rely on a lot more improvisation than what I'm used to. I also got to play my PC, Lin, who while he didn't do much got to make several decisions that may come to bite him in the ass in the near future. The main plot of the game revolved around a love story, which is something you don't inherently see a lot of in american theater larps. More on that as the plot develops.

And then, the Main Event: Dresden Files. It was the first time we had run a Dresden game for our local players since July. Since then, a lot had happen both in plot and for the game itself. So, of course, we opened up by laying it all on the line that the world could, conceivably, end. There was a moment in the storytellers meeting a week or so previously where we realized that with all of the factors running around that they world could get so borked that we would be forced to reset the game.

The game started off with a death. My NPC, Joseph Parrish, was a Warden of the White Council. He protected mortal magic users from supernatural threats and from themselves. He put one renegade wizard under his probationary gaze. However, due to a full blown war, Parrish lost sight of the Wizard who took part in a ritual that caused the deaths of hundreds of mortal combatants. The White Council doesn't like people who murder with magic. It's their first law. And, as the Wizard's keeper, Parrish was as culpable for those deaths as the Wizard was. So the game was kicked off by Warden Parrish getting executed by his colleagues.

It was rough for me, because I liked that character. There were conversations previous to the scene where Shoshana had to sit me down while trying to write a badass ending for him and went "Craig, he's gotta take a knee." And he did take a knee, and then he laid down. I found out later that several people cried when he died. I consider this a victory as a storyteller.

The game ended with the world relatively saved. But people had sacrificed a lot. People made personal sacrifices to get to the warzone, losing core truths along the way, only to find that the battle had ended (that wasn't planned). Watching the horror and dread reveal themselves on the characters (and players) faces was amazing. People left the game feeling 'mindfucked' about what had happened, but in the best possible of ways. Dresden can do that to people.

In the end, Dreamation was fun. Tiring, but fun. I'm sad I missed some fun stuff, but I'm also glad I got the free time I did. Energy is at a premium, especially coming straight from work to the convention and then right back to work less than twelve hours after it ended. The next convention, Dexcon, is going to be even more challenging as I am tentatively on the hook to be a part of four to six games. I don't intend to sleep much July 4th weekend. As always, the convention gave me a lot of new ideas to putt around here. Expect some new posts as they come. I know I haven't been on much, but I'm always thinking of new things for ya.

Later,

C

Stunt Lightsaber Combat: A Review

Taking over my less than scheduled blogging (sorry, life hit me in a hard way. I've got like six blogs sitting in queue that I will finish.) I wanted to a review of a book I read today. It's not a game book, it was a book on lightsaber dueling. Stunt Lightsaber Combat For Beginners: The Unofficial Guide to Dueling Like a Jedi, by Carey Martell. It is a guide to help fans of Star Wars to spar or choreograph fights using prop lightsabers.

As many of you know, lightsabers are kind of a passion of mine and sort of an amateur profession. I have been a member and instructor with the New York Jedi, the oldest lightsaber choreography group in the fandom, since February of 2009. I am currently one of the Headmasters for Terra Prime Light Armory, which seeks to use Real Life martial arts to make the lightsaber into (as close to) a real martial curriculum. I've taught lightsabers privately and with other groups, as well as written a few papers on lightsaber combat, particularly on the subject of the Seven Forms of Lightsaber Combat.

I'm saying all of this for a few reasons. I want you all to know where my biases are in regards to this. I also want you to know that I'm someone who actually takes this seriously, or as serious as you can take running around with a glow stick for the entertainment of yourself, your friends and whatever audience you cater to. Finally, I'm mentioning all of this to underscore that I am a massive nerd who has had a lot of time on his hands in his life. But most of you have read this blog, you already knew that part.

All that said, I was interested in reading Martells book. Because there is very little discussion about lightsaber dueling as a real world thing. As someone who writes about this stuff and teaches this stuff, I get enthused about new material because it helps me gain a new perspective. It's amazing how something that is make believe is really hard to develop. Perspective matters.

So, imagine how bummed I was reading the introduction for Martells book. In his introduction, he acknowledges the lightsaber groups, and then casts them off as amateurs on Youtube "squabbling" (his word) about the word "Master". So, in his first paragraph he undercuts the community who would most likely want to buy his book. But, dear readers, fear not! We are promised in this book that, Martell claims, is "so obviously missing from the market" that there will be no showboating! Not at all!

While I don't nearly have the martial prowess as Mr. Martell or even that of my peers in the lightsaber groups (one black belt and a gumbo of whatever I picked up from my better trained friends), I do have experience in one thing: promoters trying to sell themselves by undercutting the other people in the 'market'. Lightsaber dueling, either staged, sport, or spar, is a great gateway for geeks who never thought they would learn a martial art to get in to it. I know people who have gone from learning the lightsaber to being instructors in Kung Fu.

But a lot of the individuals in the community starts off alone and looking for some help about this weird hobby. So in comes a promoter that goes "Hey! Look at me! Don't look at these guys! I can help you here!" and then promptly sell their wares on you. It's a predatory kind of mentality, a mobile McDojo. It's not cool, it's not fun, and everyone who has been in the community long enough recognizes it and is zero impressed by it.

Now, that isn't to say that Martells text isn't good. As far as technique, it is a passable manual. But not for lightsabers. "I believe trying to create a functional sparring art based on a choreography which was only ever meant for the silver screen is folly," he says. This is odd because it contradicts part of the function of the book: to help choreograph fights. It also takes away one of the core aspects as to why someone would want to read a book on lightsaber dueling: the lightsaber itself.

In the book, Martell discusses the lightsaber as a prop. As simply what it is: a glorified flashlight with a polycarbonate tube shoved up the opening to create a blade with no edge. Martell's terminology openly tells you to disrgard that, and uses the technical terms for broadsword and fencing. The 'sabers' in the illustrations look more like longswords than lightsabers with crossguards added 'for hand reference' This is itself fine, in fact as far as sword manuals go its not bad. But this feels like someone wrote a decent longsword manual and added 'lightsaber' to it to make a draw. If I'm going to read a book on lightsaber dueling, I want there to be more than just lip service about the lightsaber.

If I'm going to read about lightsaber dueling in real life, I want to talk about the spirit of what is going on (because science hasn't made it practical yet) and try to find ways to make it real. I want to discuss ways of blocking and defending with a weaon with no real blade and that cuts at all angles, something that Martell actively disregards, insisting to use edge terminology of traditional swords. We're talking fictional martal arts for a fictional weapon. Let's get creative. Use real world stuff as an anchor and go for it.

Also,I want it to be stated in no uncertain terms that regardless of sport, spar, or stage combat, you're are effectively playing make believe. Lightsabers are the coolest weapons in fiction, tied in to a lush fictional culture of good guys and bad guys. Regardless of why you picked one up, you're choosing to use a lightsaber because somewhere the little kid inside you wants to play Jedi with your friends. Yes, it's geeky as hell, but it also means you have an active imagination and a degree of courage. You'll need both if you're running around public parks with a neon shinai.

And unfortunately, Carey Martells book treats lightsabers just like that: a glowing practice sword. Again, it's a passable book on basic drills, strikes, and footwork, but it does it at the cost of its main selling point. It's a book about lightsaber dueling that doesn't want to be about lightsaber dueling. If I wanted to learn about longsword and fencing, I can dig up a few manuals and study, or call up some instructor friends I met through that community Martell was quick to disparage. If any one who reads this wants to learn how to make make believe real, I suggest you check for these groups:

New York Jedi: World Famous Lightsaber Stage Combat Group, oldest in the community
Terra Prime Light Armory: Martial Artists making the unreal Real.
Saber Guild: Lightsaber Choreography Fan Group, Recognized by Disney like the 501st.
Ludosport: Lightsabe school and system for sport lightsaber combat

In the end, I give Stunt Lightsaber Combat For Beginners: The Unofficial Guide to Dueling Like a Jedi, by Carey Martell 2 out of 5 stars. 1 star for being a passable modern manual on swordplay, and another star for being one of the first published works on the subject of lightsaber combat. I assure you, it will not be the last and the bar will raise higher. It loses points for not really discussing being about lightsabers and for outright being condescending to the reader and the demographic who would actually buy this book. It isn't worth the 9.99 on kindle or the 20 bucks in print.

Reflections on Metatopia 2015

It's currently wednesday as I write this, that may change when I post this. First of all, for the four or five of you that actually do read this blog, I'm sorry for the gap between posts. Work, Freelance Work, Imaginary Work and a dozen other things took over my life. There's also the fact that I'm not larping once a month any more, which lessens how often I get to think about things and ruminate. However, now that Metatopia is done, I have a few things to share with you all.

Going to Metatopia as a game designer for the first time was nerve racking to me. It was kind of funny to sit down and notice the panic attacks the days before. They were regularly scheduled and pretty much anticipated. I was presenting a game for the first time, I was going to be on a panel for the first time in a very long time. 

The first thing I recall from the convention was that this was really the first time that I was constantly doing stuff. Whether it was running around to prep for my panel, or for my game, or just talking to people, I was doing something. Normally at these conventions I have a few hours between events to rest and recharge. I didn't have that here, and I was surprised to find that I didn't need it as much either. Getting home, however, proved to be a lesson in paying up on my sleep debt. In many ways, I still am. 

As I said, I went to present Kensei as a game concept in a Focus Group. It wasn't a playtest, but a stress test for information to make sure the game was feasible. As a Character vs Character boffer larp tournament, I wanted to make sure that the game was feasible and that there was a market for it beyond stick jockeys thwacking each other (that's going to happen, I just want to know other people were interested in it as well). I had two slots. The friday morning slot went about as well as one thought: it was pretty much empty for the most part. It was friday morning, people either hadn't shown up or were still zonked out from travelling or networking the night before. I spent that time writing notes of my own, figuring at the very least I could get some work done on Kensei

Someone did eventually show up, game designer and academic Evan Torner. We talked casually for a while, mostly on Living Games Conference (where we had met a year and a half previously) as well as his recent run of Just a Little Loving, a Nordic Larp set in the early 80's and focused on the LGBT community during the initial outbreak of AIDS. We also spoke of the upcoming run of New World Magischola, a Nordic Larp inspired by the Wizarding World of Harry Potter and run in a similar fashion as College of Wizardry. 

We did, eventually, talk Kensei. The setting was fascinating. The setting was, of course, all I had. He gave me advice on how to start fashioning the mechanics to create the game I wanted: focus on what the theme was. If the theme of the game was the community forming around these fights, then the mechanics should be centered around that. That sounds so simple, but it was something that I wasn't grokking on at all while building this game.

To sum up the experience, here is an excerpt from a conversation I had with my friend Josh:

Josh: So how'd it go?

Craig: Not bad, only one person came in to look at the game. 

Josh: Who was it?
Craig: Evan Torner

Josh: So five people came in to look at Kensei, good.

The next day was more populated, with players I know from Dresden and from DR. One person was a practitioner of Aikido, Kenjutsu and Iaido. I made noises like a seal because I could sit and talk a different kind of shop with them for a few moments. In the end, they gave me a really great place to move on to next in developing the game, and solved a major problem I had fixed myself in to. That being said, people want to play this game, and I think I can make it.

This game is going to get made. 

I also took part in my first panel at a Double Exposure convention. It focused on the use of Sanity Points in games to denote mental health. That's a whole conversation in and of itself and will get a blog post of its own in the near future. The panel consisted of myself, Elsa Henry, Kelly Osborne, and Will Hindmarch. It shows how new I am to gaming and the gaming community when I recognized Will's name but couldn't put my finger on where I knew it. Then Elsa announced his contributions to White Wolf, especially in the writing of Mage the Awakening. 

For those of you keeping score at home, why yes, I'm a fan of Mage the Awakening. It is my favorite setting in the New World of Darkness line, even if it did drive me to drink after a while. So to have Will next to me was kind of a high note. I thanked him for Mage after the panel. The panel itself went beautifully, we could have been there for another hour and only just gotten in it. Signs point to a repeat next year.

The rest of the panel was playtesting. I tested a freeform larp called Waiting for Slenderman....which is as horrible and amazing as it sounds. The game was designed and run by KN Granger and Jacqueline Bryk. An hour or so in the dark while your character, who either thinks Slenderman is a hoax, real, or is neutral to the situation, is waiting for a promised appearance by Tall, Pale and Faceless itself. 

Another playtest was Nicholas Malinowski's tabletop game, Nementia. A steampunk world based on Welsh mythology? How could I resist. The game shows a lot of promise, and its a setting that I would dearly love to run a campaign for at some point. 

I also got to test Evil hat's Dresden Files Cooperative Card Game. The system was interesting, and since I suck out loud I'm going to leave it to Evil Hat to describe it better. What I can say is that the deck of character cards you get to play are amazingly in keeping with the characters themselves. I got to play a game where Harry Dresden, Michael Carpenter, Karrin Murphy, The Alphas, and Susan Rodriguez got to take on the Storm Front casefile. I got to play Michael, and it felt like I was able to play to the character's strengths and got to have a flavor for 'this is how he does it'. I'm looking forward to seeing how it develops. 

The rest of the convention was talking and chatting with people. I hit that point in my experience at these conventions where I don't always feel like a wallflower. Most of us talked about past experiences in previous clubs, while other conversations were about incoming video games. I also got in to a very passionate conversation about Star Wars (surprise!) and other conventions in the area. 

I also hit that point in my stay there were people assume I've been at these conventions or in the community a lot longer than I have. This is a talent I have no control over, and it happens every time. People assume I've always been in the community. Moments of mentioning someone I haven't met yet as if I would remember them. I know this isn't uncommon, but this happens a lot to me every time I go in to a new community. If I knew how to magically insert myself in to people's timelines, I'd have a much easier time.

The convention was not without its problems. Not to me, specifically, but there were stories of behavior that really didn't seem to jive with the attitude I had attributed to Metatopia. There were a few incidences of playtesters telling designers that there games should use an established system instead of building a new one. There was one incidence of a playtester telling a designer that they should go to the traderoom and buy all of the Fate games to fix their understanding of Fate Core. 

The prize winner, for me, was when one designer was told by one person that her game had no relevancy. To be clear, this game was a bout a sensitive topic in the world (I won't go in to specifics as I do not have permission to disclose). The dissenting tester went so far as to invoke his status as a "Southern Gentleman" to emphasize how little he felt her game was in any way relevant. The quotes are there because this was what was told to me. This is hearsay, but due to the climate of gaming

Let's get a few things straight, one: this was bullshit on the highest level. If it isn't your cup of tea to play, don't play it. No one person or group has the right to say what should and should not be presented. Secondly...a "Southern Gentleman"? Seriously? At what point was that actually relevant to the discussion? What criteria were they using? Normally, if a man is invoking his right as a Gentleman, then someone was entitled to challenging him to a duel for the insult he laid on this designer. It is such an absurd thing to say, made all the worse by the gatekeeping he was perpetrating at a convention where people are invited to develop and try new things. 

I think that was a point that some of the convention goers missed when they registered. Metatopia is, as far as I could tell, a place where designers and testers get together and try out new shit. Its not Metatopia where you drive the new hot car on to stage, its where you have the blue print for a hot new car and want others to look it over and test drive a model. It's an experimental jam session, where designers can tweak their games with the help of their peers and also to hang out and network with one another. It's informal, and there was a small rush of people who seemed to want to make it something a lot more.

But talking to the convention runners, that doesn't seem the case. Avie and Vinny are amazing people. That they were able to sit down with convention goers and talk over their input on the con--both things to fix and things to keep--is something refreshing. I never get the sense that we're just convention goers to them, they know us to one degree or another and are open to reception. 

Metatopia was a great experience for me, and one which I already look forward to having again next november. Hopefully by then, Kensei will be ready for testing. Goal set, see you there.


Later,

C

Final Fantasy VII Retrospective 'The Midgar Arc'

This is the first installment of my retrospective on Final Fantasy VII. FFVII had a very major impact on my gaming experience growing up. The concept of story and games was novel to me at the time (I was 11, sue me) and from that point on I was hooked. With the release of the game on to iOS, I felt I needed to give this game another go. This retrospective will cover things I noticed, and may not be entirely linear in its approach. This will NOT be a walkthrough, but a commentary on the game, my memories, and my hopes for the recently announced Remake and other projects. I will also, of course, discuss how this relates to us in roleplaying.

This entry will contain roughly the beginning portion of the game set in Midgar. Warning: This will contain spoilers of FFVII. If you have not played the game and don't want to know the score, please don't continue.

The game begins with everything running. Literally. You hope off of a train as the protagonist (Cloud Strife) in this dirty city surrounded by what look like industrial stacks. Your first action is to take out guards, and then advance onto one of the stacks which are actually high powered Reactors sucking natural energy into a refined energy called 'Mako'. This is killing the planet, and you're going to do something about it.

So, cool, you're here to save the world. You're doing awesome. You're....planting a bomb at the very heart of the reactor....uhm...guys....guys...? This one could go hard and to the--

Well, crap.

Going through the game, I was shocked at the notion that I was playing the part of an eco-terrorist whose first mission was essentially a bombing run on a nuclear reactor. If you look at that video, during the Reactor going full on Praxis, several explosions to the left of it occur. Those were houses. People were sleeping.

Congrats. Twenty minutes into the game and you've killed countless people in their sleep. Well fucking done.

The concept that, yes, you're a terrorist is brought up, but its done in a very broad sense. Cloud's a generally ambivalent about the whole thing, which makes it easier for the Players to make up their own mind. Barrett and his AVALANCHE squad of doofuses are too comical to be taken seriously as a group. But we're also viewing it from Cloud's POV, he could just be viewing them as being doofuses. People around them certainly take them (and Barret 'definitely not based on Mr. T' Wallace) like a serious threat.

Again, this doesn't get looked at too in depth because the game is constantly moving and constantly setting up little pieces that are going to go off eventually. Tifa and Cloud's past together and their connection. Cloud's mysterious flashbacks/memory voices that pop in at weird times. Mentions of the great warrior, Sephiroth. The sheer callous evil that is the Shinra Corporation. And then, all of this starts to go off when Cloud falls through a Church roof and meets a flower merchant.

The plot of the game, the real plot of the game, begins when you meet Aerith (I know the US translation insists on Aeris. I'm using the universally accepted version). She is a mysterious woman who looks and has the skills of a flowery and squishy Mage, but is actually a bold tomboy. Her involvement is ultimately what makes this a simple story of freedom fighters against a Capitalistic Regime into something on a much grander scale.

During this current run on the game, I realized how fast they were going by everything. Details about the world, some of the people and characters. They were playing fast and loose. You were given just enough information to get the gist, then we'd move on to the next piece. The only time it felt like I was in what would be a now traditional RPG was during the whole Wall Market affair where I was doing errands and chores for the entire Market in a bid to sneak into some place with the most success. Other than that, the story was entirely linear.

The entire story in Midgar could have been an entire game right there. From the assault on the Reactor to the  the rescue up the entire 70 floors of Shinra Headquarters in the heart of Midgar, that's set up-second act-denouement right there. The game could have been over, Cloud could resolve the sticky little triangle he suffered between Aerith and Tifa (or the girls could leave him alone, either way). But no. It's only until you reach what would be the end of the story that you're introduced to the real  problem.

This Bitch Right Here

It's not until the creature known as 'Jenova' appears that the narrative changes. When things go pair shaped at Shinra HQ and Jenova bursts out of her/its cage, Cloud stops the show and announces that Shinra, the evil empire they and we've been dealing with for the past few hours, aren't the major threat to the planet. Keep in mind that Cloud up until now has only been doing things on a personal basis, even including saving others because they mean something to him. Cloud goes from ambivalent about the fate of the world to pointing us at the threat really fast, and with good reason we'll find out soon enough.

Now, going through the game, the dialogue and writing of the game's text has not held up well in the past two decades. Because of a lot of graphic limitations, we have to be told how bad things are instead of being shown how bad things are. But even then, we've no real context to go on. How bad is it on the outside, is there even an outside left? There's mention of a war that had gone on a few years before, but that's it. All we know is Midgar at this point.

We've no context as to where Midgar is compared to the rest of the world metaphorically speaking. We are shown more in the few minutes of the Remake announcement that cements that Midgar's environment is slowly degrading than the first act did. That's one of the reasons this game deserves a remake. So much detail was clearly put into the setting of Midgar that a full blown game could have been done by expanding the first three hours of material, but so much of the time was spent tell us about it. In a modern game, we can get the nuances of the setting and the character for granted, whereas before even though we were seeing the scenario it was so stylistically and graphically coarse that we had to fill in the gaps still.

The Midgar Arc serves the purpose of getting the player acquainted with the main characters, the antagonists, and kick starting the major problem in the setting. Because once you leave the walls of Midgar, it is an entirely different world out there.

- Later,

C

Designs (an Ex Arcana Fic)

This is my first crack at trying to write for my Ex Arcana character. All information is OOC, this is just a fun experiment.

            Lin saw red.

            It wasn't a violent color. It was steady. The color of fire, live and vibrant. It pulsed like life's blood. Lin followed that pulse, following its rhythm and design. He felt it guide his motions, guide his hand. He didn't move, not intentionally. He let the color move him. He could feel his cheeks flush at the thought of the heat in the color, and the memory of the monsters he'd seen, the boy who became flame and the Phoenix he knelt before.

            Lin let the red flow through him.

            When he opened his eyes, the design was done. It was a simple piece of line work, which is sometimes the hardest. No breaks, a focus on a continuous line. This one began as a pulse beat, and then became the New York Skyline until it became the another pulse again. The lightly tanned skin that bore the work began to glow with life and blood. Nearly an hour of work and activity and energy would emphasize the color and lines there for a few hours, maybe a day or two.

            The girl whose wrist had been Lin's focus for the past hour also glowed. She was coated in a patina of sweat, and her cheeks were flushed. She looked like she'd just come back from a light jog or had some mildly exertive sex. Lin knew some people where getting a tattoo and getting laid were part of the same car pool, but he wasn't sure if this girl was one of them.

            She looked down at the ink and smiled. "That," she said, her voice heavy as molasses. "That is exactly what I wanted."

            Lin returned the smile with a shrug, "You gave me a good design. Glad you liked it." He dressed the tattoo in plastic wrap, to avoid abrasions, a tube of vitamin E and a card with directions for how to treat the tattoo when she got home. It was practiced and professional, Lin had been doing this for a while now. "Follow that for about a week. After that, you'll have an awesome conversation starter for the rest of your life." He smiled at her, which in turn broadened the girl's smile.

            She had eyes that reminded Lin of olives, a subtly ripe green. Her skin was the light bronze that made Lin think that her family was only a few generations away from some Mediterranean country like Greece or the Southern end of Italy.

            There was a heavy moment between them, and Lin knew what was going to happen soon. "You said that this was for your dad?" His words broke the tension, and his client blinked her olive eyes a few times as if in recoil.

            "Yeah," she breathed. "My dad was a first responder on 9/11. He made it out, thank god, but the cancer got him shortly after. He loved this City, and I don't think he ever felt resentment for getting sick for doing his job."

            "It shows," he said. The girl smiled, but the question was clear on her face. Lin sat down  next to her and held out her wrapped up wrist. "You designed the pulse, right? It's been a long while since I'd been hooked to an EKG, but that looks like an average pulse. I'm willing to guess you're in the medical field, right?"

            "EMT," she said.

            "Which also explains the love of the City, you know it intimately. You know the areas that are bad, and the areas that are good. You know when something seems off and to recognize when you're vulnerable. You've seen the bad moments and keep going." I pointed to the pulse beat after the skyline ended, as if it went back to normal. "This is a part of you, as much as it was for your father. You've pledged yourself with this tattoo...am I wrong?"

            The look she gave Lin was intense, "How do you know all of that?"

            He shrugged, "What people design tells you something about them. It's a signature, a ritual, almost." Lin tried to keep the wry sarcasm out of the last part.

            They both kept silent for a moment until she spoke, "Listen, would you be up for a drink some time?"

            Lin pulled out his business card, a simple design with the letters LD in sumi-e. His work number and email were typed on the back neatly. He smiled back, "I'm always up for a drink and a chat."

            "I'm Callie," his client said.

            "I know."

            Before the conversation could go any further, someone knocked on the station door. Morgan was a blocky woman built like Rosie The Riveter's punk granddaughter. She was well built and was covered in tattoos, many of them contributions from the various artists who worked in her shop over the years and probably a few she did on her own.

            She looked worried, "We have a problem. Duck's here."

            Lin looked to Callie and said, "Can you stay here a moment until I come back? I'll knock before I come in." Callie, a little confused, nodded. Lin got up, brushed off his black pants and t-shirt, and turned to Morgan.

            His boss lead the way from the work station to the front counter. Nolan, Morgan's husband, stood arguing with a gentleman Lin had met once or twice. The man was tall and lanky, and looked mal-nourished. His skin was a pale yellow and had the consistency of melted candle wax. Badly drawn tattoos dotted his skin at random places, including a series of black and white diamonds--the kind on a poker card--on his right cheek. His hair was a knotted mess that once could have been blond but was now a colorless mass. He reminded Lin of a scarecrow or some form of ritual moppet, a construct of a human. His eyes were glassy and fever bright, the kind that only fanatics or crazed truly get.

            The man known only as Duck was angrily banging against the counter. "I know Carlo's here, man! I know he's here." He raised himself over Nolon, and yelled out to the store behind him. "Come on out you coward, I need the Stuff!"

            "Listen mate," Nolon said. "Carlo's gone, we fired his ass months ago for selling that crap. Last I heard he's in Riker's for a very long ti--"

            "Don't you fuckin' lie to me!" Duck slurred. He called out again, "Carloooooooooo! Get your ass out here."

            As Lin approached, he could see Morgan and Nolon's muscles tense. Nolon was built just as well as Morgan was. They had met in the army and stayed together when they were discharged. They knew violence, and restraint, and they were both somewhere on the line between the two. Duck's life was very much at risk.

            Not good.

            "Ducky," Morgan said, joining the conversation. She kept her arms out and open to show she wasn't a threat to him. That could change quickly, and Lin knew it. "Let's get you some food, okay?"

            "Stay back bitch!" Duck said. He punctuated the sentence with the snap of a knife opening. The blade gave off a dirty, greasy gleam. "Give me Carlo right now, give me the Stuff!"

            Nolon and Morgan both stopped dead. Their bodies tensed with fear and apprehension, and also preparedness. Ducky, Lin knew, had just gone from being a problem to a threat. Ducky would end up in the hospital and then jail for reasons he'd never fully understand.  

            Not everything has to end in violence, Lin believed. Not unless it has to. Lin found himself less paralyzed by the sight of the blade. Not because he didn't realize the danger, but because things like this lose their edge when a man wishing to vent his spleen puts the tip of an honest-to-god sword to your carotid. You begin to appreciate what it is and not sweat the details as much.

            Lin could talk him down, but he didn't want to take it to chance. He needed an edge. He looked inside him for the right Color. Even after a year he still called them Colors, even though he had long since learned their true name: Aethers. He knew of Black Empyrean and it's control of Intelligence, of Green Geodyne and its focus on Strength and Endurance. He knew of Red Vulcan's enhancement of Dexterity. He knew of them, and that he could tap into them. He'd been able to tap into them for years now without ever knowing what they really were. A year had taught him what they meant, of the others who could use them as well and of the hidden war that had been raging for centuries because of these Aethers. He knew now what they were, and he knew how to use them right.

            And he knew of the fourth Aether, the Blue Ondine. He knew it the best, and standing in the tattoo parlor, he found within himself a strong well of Blue. There were many sources, but he one in particular was strong. He felt it, tapped into it, and let it flow through him. Calm coolness and professional grace flowed through him. He felt wave after wave of coolness take over him and let it stay there.

            "Ducky," he heard himself say. "Put the knife down. Look around you. What is a knife going to do to get you what you need?"

            Lin was perfectly, casually, still. With Ducky a jittery mess and Nolon and Morgan so tense with restraint and fear, it made Lin something of a fixed point in the room. Lin felt Duck's full attention fall on him. For that moment, Lin was the junkie's whole universe.

            So if this fucks up, Lin thought. Morgan and Nolon can hit him while he shanks me. We all win.

            "Come on, Duck. Drop the knife and let's get you some place where you can eat."

            The coolness flowed out of Lin with every word, until he felt it ebb out of him. The Color, the Aether, had run out.

            Ducky, his body jerking as if pulled muscle by muscle in various different directions, dropped the knife. It clattered on the floor with a dull thud. A split second later, Ducky dropped just as suddenly. The smell of offal filled the room.

            "Jesus," Nolon said. He immediately moved towards the Duck's limp body. "Someone call an ambulance!"

            Footsteps thudded quickly from behind Lin Callie, Lin's client, was running down towards them. She moved to Duck's limp body and began checking his pulse. She didn't have her gear, but she was moving with the professionalism of a trained Emergency Responder. She began giving Nolon orders. Callie couldn't have weighed more than a hundred pounds with weights on and had a swimmer's build, but the way Nolon responded would have made you think she was an army Colonel on the field.

            Lin sighed, the energy flowing out of him. He would need to visit Lovecraft after this to refuel. He felt Morgan's quiet presence next to him.

            "You know," Morgan said. "I've always known you were good with words, but seriously, Lin...." she looked back to Duck's limp form. Callie and Nolon were propping him up and EMS had been called in. "Damn, son."

            "You can do a lot with a kind word and an unblinking gaze than you can get with just a kind word," he said weakly.

-----

            An hour or so later, and the world quieted down. Ducky had gone into an ambulance, the prognosis being withdrawal and malnourishment. Callie went into the Ambulance with him, she seemed to know the EMTs. Morgan and Nolon let Lin go while they took care of the shop.

            St. Mark's carried on as it always did, completely unaware that a knife-wielding junkie was just put down with a word. They saw the ambulance, but many didn't pay it head and just moved on as they did.

            It was times like this that Lin wondered if the Shaitan Oath was upheld just as much by people's willing ignorance as their unceasing vigilance against revealing Magic to the 'Silent'.

            Lin made his way down through the streets and past the people as he made his way further into the East Village to Lovecraft. The bar was one part meeting hall, watering hole and refill station for the community of magic users known primarily as The Eldritch. It was a lot of other things as well, as Lin found out in his research. A small iron key hung around his neck, belonging to something in the lower reaches of the building. Considering the bar's namesake, he wasn't in too much of a hurry to find out. He just wanted to get to the bar, drink some absinthe, and refuel on his Aethers. He was nearly depleted of his Ondines and his Vulcans, and of the four Aether, he relied on them the most.

            As he walked through Tompkins Square, his phone buzzed his in his pocket. He didn't recognize the number.

            "Hello?"

            "Adolin," the voice said. It was familiar, woman's voice. An old rage began to boil in Lin's chest.

            "Go away," he said. It was barely a rasp. He didn't want to draw attention to himself this late at night.

            "But I'm worried about you," the woman said pleadingly.

            Lin's face tightened in a sneer, "I doubt that."

            "I'm your mother," she said.

            "Which is why I said 'Go Away' and not 'Go Fuck Yourself'." He hung up the phone and tried to forget about it. His mother had stopped factoring into his life choices long ago. He was going to Lovecraft, he was going to get buzzed on Absinthe and probably stoned on drawing in Aether from the Threshold buried in there. He wondered if people developed an addiction to drawing in Aethers, or different types of them. People definitely developed a euphoria as they let the power into them, Lin himself one of them. Then there was the situation with Extract and--"

            His phone rang again, breaking him from his tangent. It was the same number. Part of him knew to ignore it, but something in the way it vibrated in his hands made it feel like a challenge.

            "What?" He said in the phone.

            "That," his mother's voice said, heat in her tone. "Was rude. Ad--"

            "You do not get to say that name," he rasped. Everything in his worldview took on a momentary azure hue. He had let himself use the last of his Ondine, out of rage. It was less of a calming tide and more an enraged Tsunami. The energy coursed through him and around him. It was gone as fast as he had said it, "You don't get to say it. Not until you tell me what it means."

            The one or two people around him stopped and looked at him. He looked at them, acknowledging their presence, and they all went back to what they were doing. No one wants trouble, and while he didn't use magic, per se, they probably felt the strangeness coming off of his and his words. They wanted no part of it.
            His mother's voice held firm on the other end, "I have my reasons."

            "Yeah? Then your reasons don't involve me. Leave me alone."

            There was a pause on the other end. Lin could practically hear her shore up her own resolve. He had to have gotten it from somewhere, and his father died too early for him to qualify. "Fine. Dear. We'll have this conversation when you're in a better mood."

            He had made his way out of Tompkin's Square and made a turn South. "I'll be in a better mood when you tell me the truth." He sneered, "It's not like you just conjured it out of the Aether, right?"

            Silence on the other end. Lin hung up the phone, and shut it off.

            Yes, now he needed that drink.

-----

            The Lovecraft's basement smelled faintly of water, that's what happens when you were one of the neighborhoods submerged during Hurricane Sandy. The bar itself was a mixture of browns and brass and stone. He wasn't entirely sure it had been built by the Magisters, or if the Threshold and the magic around it told the designers that that's how it worked. He didn't ask these things, the answers scared him some. But the place was exactly as one expected with a name like Lovecraft: it looked and felt like the Absinthe den of a long dead occultist.

             He had long since refilled his Aethers at the threshold, it was the first thing he had done. He could feel the colors back in him. Blues and Greys, mostly, Ondines and Empyreans. A glass of bright green absinthe--his third--sat half finished on his table. Two note cards laid next to it, and a black brush-pen lay on top of that. There were two words on each sheet. One read:

            Adolin Dain

            And the other:

            Lin Dain

            Lin had never known why his mother, Marjorie Dain, had named him Adolin. The name did not exist before him. Where did it come from, why give it to him? He knew so little of his parents' past. He remembered very little, before running off. He remember rituals, and meetings. He remembered men who felt powerful coming to meet his parents, and him he remembered. They were interested in him. And he remembered a word: Babalon. When he read the word in the Libris Ex Arcanum, it unnerved something in him, tore the hinges off something he'd shut down for years.

            Part of Lin was afraid that all of this was connected. The magic, the monsters, and him. After years of running, hiding, conning and stealing to keep away from his mother's legacy, he may have ended up a part of it all. He didn't believe his mother was an Eldritch herself, that would be impossible considering all of the precautions taken by the Arcanum before the Century of Silence. But things had been known to slip up, and there were other elements out there that were aware and waiting between the two or three generations where the magic left and came back. None of those options particularly thrilled Lin.

            "What people design tells you something about them," He said to no one in particular. He took the notecard that said Adolin Dain on it and placed it over his tables candle. The small flame burned a black and brown hole into the card. It made him think of ritual offerings, of leavings for prayer to some god. Lin wasn't sure if he believed in any god enough to worship them. He'd met at least three beings in the past month that certainly qualified for the distinction, but without naming names he let out a small prayer of whatever plots and plans were in store to come over him.

            He doubted anyone heard them.

            He looked down at the last note card, the one that read Lin Dain. In a fit of pique, he grabbed his ink pen, uncapped it, and wrote out A, D, and O, restoring his name back to full.

            "What was your design with me, mom?" he asked to the trailing plumes of smoke. "How am I your signature, how am I your ritual?"

            No answers came to him that night, as they hadn't for all the nights he asked.

            

On The Fury Road: Notes from GenCon 2015

36 hours after trudging my suitcase back up my Bronx apartment, I find myself sitting at my laptop trying to process the trip I just went through. I've just come back from my first trip to GenCon, the four day convention in Indianapolis which showcased any and all forms of gaming. Video Games, Card Games, TableTops, War Games, and Larps. It was a celebration of all things games, and a meeting of the industry that creates them and the fans that play them (who are, most often than not, both).

My trip began last monday, July 27th. I crashed with the members of Phoenix Outlaw productions. Shoshana, Josh, Nico, Justin and Abigail had all been to GenCon before. They had tried to explain to me what I was going to. Now, I'm a veteran of New York Comic Con. I've done DexCon and most of the Double Exposure conventions this past year. I knew what they were saying, and I wasn't getting parts of it. Like the scope wasn't right in my head. 

Eventually, I told them that I was going to have to treat this like the Matrix: I couldn't be told what GenCon was. I'd  have to see it to believe it.

We left early tuesday morning. There were detours early in New Jersey, which delayed our entry into Pennsylvania until the early evening. I don't know if anyone has ever driven through Pennsylvania. As someone who has relatives in the center of that state, allow me to state a theory: Thomas Penn founded that state using Illuminati magic and the bones of the Great Old Ones. PA does not function in the Space/Time Continuum like normal places, and has been known to drive, quite literally, most motorists insane.

Hours of Non-Euclidean Road Tripping lead us to crash in a hotel outside of Pittsburgh, where we were then joined by the members of Clan Jaffe (of Nerdy City, the developers of Pacfiic Rim: Rise of Tiburon; and ExArcana: the Chronos Mage game). We knew as well, that somewhere out there, the members of Eschaton Media (Dystopia Rising, Chronos, and many others) were also close at hand in the vicinity.

It should be mentioned that this trip was littered by quotes from Mad Max: Fury Road. A bunch of eccentric geeks not unfamiliar with the End of the World driving through unending roads and adventures. And as the three gaming companies moved through the east coast and into the interior states in a demented form of Wacky Races, with the burning sun of an imminent August coming down on us, it felt appropriate.

And Now...the Weather.

Getting into Indianapolis early Wednesday afternoon, I was immediately struck by what I saw. Downtown Indianapolis, for blocks around the Convention Center and the hosting hotels, was taken over by gamers. The hotel we were in, which was a converted trainyard, was filled with staff and nerds. Our keycards were printed with Settlers of Catan images. They knew us, and they welcomed us. The pub we went to for the Indie Game Developer Network party was full of eccletic peoples all talking and networking and being there for games, as was the bar where I got to watch the Diana Jones Awards be announced. By the end of the week, 60,000 gamers were in Indianapolis for this event. NYCC doesn't get that level of takeover. The only other conventions I know of of that level is San Diego Comic Con and DragonCon in Atlanta.

As mentioned before, I was working with Phoenix Outlaw productions. My main job was on Friday. During most of the convention, I helped Shoshana get to her panels which ran from all the corners of the convention. I got to see an industry panel for Evil Hat Productions, panels of diversity in gaming and women in gaming post-gamergate. The rest of the time was spent on the vendors floor, or as a runner for errands that needed to get done before the Dresden game while other members of the team were running Smoke and Glass or Dreamdiver.

Dresden Lives was an interesting excercise. Many of the people who attended weren't just first time players of the game, but first time players of larps. This lead to a challenge that I think we accomplished, and I think we showed the accessibility of the system and the setting. At one point during the game, I realized that the The Dresden Files books had become a gateway for people to try larping, inspired by the want to be a character in a favorite and accessible world (thank you, Jim Butcher). Likewise, there were many people who after playing the game wanted to read the series if nothing more than to get a better feel for the setting we were running in.

We were a packed house that night, playing to 55 people. That number would scare me, but after running a game for 85 in the beginning of July, 55 just doesn't have the same zing as it used to. Every game sees the players and the staff up their games and come up with something new and dynamic. And while it is always tiring at the end, it is a thrill to experience and be a part of.

Though at one point, I had to make a call to the Caffeine Gods...

We also got to use tokens for Fate Points. One of the things about Dresden Lives is that it is powered by the Fate Core system, which relies on Fate Points to power character Aspects and other special skills. Campaign Coins (shameless plug) was selling brass tokens specifically for Fate, and we were lucky enough to sell Phoenix Outlaw a set of them for the players. I felt this kept using the points all the more real to the players, as they had physical reminders of the cost of their actions and the rewards of doing something that may cause them drama. 

Fate Tokens in the Center, Plus CC's numerous Fantasy Currency

After Dresden, the volume of the weekend seemed to die down. We were off the hook collectively and could get some leisure in. I managed to get in a game of Ex Arcana, run by Sean and Megan Jaffe of Eschaton Media and Nerdy City. I don't think I've talked of Ex Arcana much here, but it's a game of Victorian Mages finding themselves in modern days to train the new generation of magic users while finishing the war that forced them in exile. So, Steampunk Magic in Modern Day. Yes, I'm a fan. Especially when places like Lovecraft in New York City and the Union Station are considered setting appropriate.

Excuse Me. I'm having Feelings Again.

This game of ExA was very intimate, and actually allowed me to find my character more. My Character, Lin, is a bit of a cypher to every one including himself. He's a pragmatic rebel, a loyal opposition. He's someone who prefers to talk things out, while also trying to figure out the angles and the exits. He's not the best thief, he's not even the best mage. But he's someone who can see where one could use the other. For someone who has been playing this character for a year, it was nice to finally get him settled in with that.

The Game was also very well crafted and executed, which has become the norm for Nerdy City. While they always use the mechanics provided (the Chronos Cards) they also allow for challenges that must be done live. Having cards that could solve puzzles means nothing, you need to actually DO the puzzles. This leads to an interesting interaction between Craig and Lin. Craig is ambivalent about puzzles, Lin effing loves them. It comes from a history of picking locks and doing art. He likes to use his hands and he likes exploring designs. Lin's more of a pragmatist than I am. These puzzles also keep us engaged in the game, and not drifting off, especially with a deadline.

The quiet moments, what few there were, were spent talking and drinking and getting to know people better. It's fascinating seeing so many people at this place, talking about this. I got to learn about the business and the politics of gaming a little --which is a good and a bad thing, for those of you who follow those sorts of things. I ran into friends whom I haven't seen in years, and some whom I'd only known in cyberspace. I made a few connections and got introduced to people whom I would never have gotten to meet otherwise. I also had a group of friends I could hang with, which for someone with a raging cause of social anxiety is worth its weight in silver.

I've mentioned this before, but I never really had a place growing up where I could feel like I belonged. There was no real language for being a geek, even during college I'd never really been able to say "I'm a geek". I had to graduate for me to accept that. So coming to something on the scale of GenCon was a massive eye opener for me. Watching geeks and gamers of various shades, stripes and structures live in this town for a week to celebrate gaming and geek culture makes me feel like I'm actually a part of something.

The drive home was more subdued, driving head long into the night. After 18 hours, I asked myself if it was worth it and worth coming back to? Yes, and Yes. Next year, I want to meet more people, do more panels. I want to get my ideas out and get people to notice.

So I'll be back in Indianapolis next year, I hope to see you there.

Later.

C