(This was supposed to be have been posted back in August, but since lately I've started to wonder if perhaps I've opened Imohotep's Tomb the way my luck has been going I haven't had a chance to finish it. So here you go.)
Gen Con is a special time in nerd's year. A gathering of peers to enjoy four days of letting your inner dork out to par-tay. It got off to a rousing start when my alarm clock didn't go off, giving me about ten minutes to shower and finish packing. Needless to say I was running late. Thankfully so was the Swine, who was picking me up. We made it down to Greenville about twenty minutes late to pick up our third and we were off.
To continue the theme of awesome beginnings within minutes of reaching our hotel parking garage I walked into a trailer hitch shin first. My language wasn't very lady like at that point as I hopped around with a rapidly swelling leg. After a five minute wait in the will call line, like every other year (suck it Dareth) we were off into the vendor hall. I made a beeline for my overlord and master's booth, Paizo Publishing, to pick up an overpriced nerd book.
I wasn't alone. The line was epic, stretching around the booth twice over as nerds jockeyed for position. It was hot and a few of the nerds were in dire need of a shower, so it wasn't a pleasant wait, especially on a screwed up leg. Paizo could very easily set up seminars on customer service to other companies. Their staff to a man are unbelievably friendly even in the crushing face of a wave of geek. After getting my crap I wandered for a few before slinking back to the hotel room to crash for the night.
The next morning we got up bright and early. The Swine and I had an early morning seminar on being a good DM at the Marriot. The new one we learned, as there are actually two within a mile of each other. On the way there we were behind a lovely young woman that had jeans on so tight the fact she didn't walk like one of the Landstriders from the Dark Crystal is a miracle. On the way a man actually crossed the street to get ahead of her, not even attempting to hide the fact he was looking at her. As she passed he stopped to look at her ass and let out a long, drawn out, "Dammmmmmn." I should have hi fived him, but it was early in the morning and I wasn't thinking.
The seminar was one of the highlights of the con. The Swine and I met a lovely couple from Massachusetts whose full names we sadly didn't get. We also managed to almost make a poor pimple faced teenager cry when he tried to get the two of us under control in a simulation of a bad game. One of the best times I've ever had at Gen Con.
The follow up to it was a bit of a let down though. At least two hours of it was listening to a neckbeard ask trivial questions because his heart valves couldn't handle the stress of cracking open a PDF and reading. One good thing to come of it though was finally getting to vent to someone that could do something about my issues with Pathfinder Society. The New York City Venture Captain was polite and friendly, which has been kind of a rarity for me when dealing with PFS folk.
The night ended with a trip to the sacred grounds of St. Elmo's Steakhouse, where sadly the cuisine didn't quite meet the standards of my two companions and their refined palates. Perhaps had the food been slathered in buffalo sauce and served half cooked it would have been good enough for the twin Anton Ego's I was with. Perhaps.
Day three was a blur of activity, shopping, seminars and a Jason Lindsey sighting all topped off with the traditional Saturday night PFS game. The cattle call was far better organized this year then in years past and we were tabled quickly. Our DM was a nice enough fellow but with a voice that would make Ben Stein seem like Mike Patton. When running on raspberries and Monster you kind of hope your DM isn't the avatar of Lunesta but that wasn't the case. Also at our table were two old guys that were about as useful as a non psychic Kuato, some dork who thought his familiar was a second character and a loony tune 12 year old that when finding out he couldn't torture NPCs left, presumably to go set an ant hill on fire.
The adventure was a disaster. It was set up for role playing; something we rarely got a chance to do between White Noise DM and cranky old guys. All the pertinent skills needed were skills we lacked. I didn't even have the refuge of the Swine and I's usual table chatter as he decided to channel his inner Achilles and skulk the whole game. Things just got worse. We ran into a succubus that charmed every single memeber of the party at one point or another and the DM rather then say, making us drop our weapons or lose an action instead had the majority of those that failed wander away and unable to do anything for the rest of the adventure. Twelve dollars well spent.
My character eventually shrugged of the charm and was able to stop humping a pillow (yep, my character was charmed into masturbating like a spider monkey in an upstairs bedroom. Money well spent) long enough to jump buck naked out of a two storey window and huck bombs at the bitch. Alone I might add, since the majority of the table felt it was better to attack a secondary character then the kingpin. All and all it managed to both suck and blow.
And to top it off the Swine and I's archenemies were there: Fat Slash (dubbed so because he is a morbid globster that wears a hat like Slash from Guns and Roses) and his wife Starship Fupa (dubbed so because her giant, awe-inspiring in the Biblical sense of awe fupa. If you don't know what a fupa is Google is your friend. At least until you see what it is.) We've ran into them several times over the past few years since we've played a game with them and the dislike is quite mutual. Take the Comic Book Guy from the Simpsons and strip him of whatever charm he might possess and pair him off with an equally despicable, polyph-like female and you'll have a good idea of what the two are like. And as fate would have it they were close enough to us that we were showered in the gibbets of meat that exploded from their table after a steer was lowered down within reach of the two.
The Sunday game was a vast improvement, even if the traditional mutant sat next to me. I have a freak magnet or something on me. Whenever some cat piss smelling transient bellies up to a PFS table he always, always sits next to me as he slurps potted meat and reeks. While this guy apparently wandered under running water once in a while his character sheet consisted of a few scrabbled on note cards and Certs wrapper. He had no real clue as to what he was doing and got pissy whenever someone tried to help. He played the least fighting fighter in the history of RPGs, content to do absolutely nothing. As a result my paladin had to do.....questionable things in order for us to win the day, including supplying a recovered addict with drugs. Victimless crimes I says. I should have been stripped of my paladin-ness, but the DM was, on top of being really really good, merciful in the face of the goon playing with us.
As we finished and were preparing for our return to the van and the open road we ran into Fat Slash and the Fupa. They actually harrumphed us like they were Lionel Barrymore or something. It was sweet and the perfect topper for a great Gen Con. Only finding out that they were caught at the border and rendered down into candle tallow would put me in a better mood.
The normally four hour drive home rounded into a seven hour one due to the Swine's sudden development of diarrhea. One could put forth the hypothesis that it was due to him eating half the menu at the Waffle House we stopped at, as well as ordering the fry cook to scrape the leavins on the flat top off onto his glistening grease omelet, but according to him you'd be wrong. As the sun set I found myself at home at last, Xenophon making it to Trabzon, or Swan making it back to Coney Island if your tastes run to the more modern. All in all, perhaps the best Gen Con I've attended and I eagerly await next year's.
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
Thursday, August 8, 2013
Goodbye Yellow Brick Road
It's strange; the odd little moments one can recall with perfect clarity. I was hiding in Bill VanSickle's room waiting for drama practice. It was winter in Michigan so that meant the sun set at roughly noon. I was going through a period where Elton John could do no wrong in my book, along with the Eagles and sure, Steve Miller. Within a year I was scoffing at myself, having learned that Pearl Jam wasn't a toe condition and Soundgarden was really really good. But not then. I was listening to Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboy after having beat Madman Across the Water into a bloody pulp of repeated listening. Someone Saved My Life Tonight came on as thick angel feather flakes of snow fell from a dark sky.
It was a moment. I can remember sitting there in the dark listening to that song over and over, starring at the snow in that strange non light that comes with the right kind of snowfall. I sat thinking about things that seemed so important to me at the time; getting Erin Garnett to pay attention to me in a way that didn't remind me of someone desperately trying to escape a street performer, doing my homework in the quickest, least effortful way possible, the dungeon I was running at the time, etc. I'd like to say I was waging an internal point/counterpoint argument of Hume's view of moral philosophy but that special brand of pompous ass wouldn't be rearing itself for another good four years. I was a 16 year old listening to a strange Englishman talk about how he almost killed himself because he didn't want to get married, thinking all those naively arrogant thoughts that all sixteen year olds have on how they were gonna be something dammit.
And now half my life later I'm in the dark listening to that same song. I have a house now, and a girlfriend that isn't Erin Garnett or any of the other endless parade of "Oh I care about her so!"s who I could probably walk by and not recognize. My knees and back sound like someone breaking boards, hopefully for a red belt. I'm not a writer or an actor or any of the other Walter Mitty dreams I had, yet I don't have any regrets. I've learned that life is a circular ride. It goes up, down, around. Sometimes you feel on top of the world, others? Well you're green and dizzy and that funnel cake isn't going to taste quite as good coming back up. But it's a ride in the end, the snake that eats its own tail, always coming back around. All we can do is remember.
It was a moment. I can remember sitting there in the dark listening to that song over and over, starring at the snow in that strange non light that comes with the right kind of snowfall. I sat thinking about things that seemed so important to me at the time; getting Erin Garnett to pay attention to me in a way that didn't remind me of someone desperately trying to escape a street performer, doing my homework in the quickest, least effortful way possible, the dungeon I was running at the time, etc. I'd like to say I was waging an internal point/counterpoint argument of Hume's view of moral philosophy but that special brand of pompous ass wouldn't be rearing itself for another good four years. I was a 16 year old listening to a strange Englishman talk about how he almost killed himself because he didn't want to get married, thinking all those naively arrogant thoughts that all sixteen year olds have on how they were gonna be something dammit.
And now half my life later I'm in the dark listening to that same song. I have a house now, and a girlfriend that isn't Erin Garnett or any of the other endless parade of "Oh I care about her so!"s who I could probably walk by and not recognize. My knees and back sound like someone breaking boards, hopefully for a red belt. I'm not a writer or an actor or any of the other Walter Mitty dreams I had, yet I don't have any regrets. I've learned that life is a circular ride. It goes up, down, around. Sometimes you feel on top of the world, others? Well you're green and dizzy and that funnel cake isn't going to taste quite as good coming back up. But it's a ride in the end, the snake that eats its own tail, always coming back around. All we can do is remember.
Saturday, June 8, 2013
Salieri Is My Homie
Well being the responsible person that I am, rather than work on the adventure I have planned in two weeks I'm on here. Go me. I imagine I would have a literary output matching Tolstoy if I didn't have an Internet connection. I sit down to write and then after a few sentences I'm either typing "Screw Flanders" over and over again in frustration because I don't know what to do or I'm looking at pictures of Suicide Girls going, "huh".
Despite my best efforts I usually only work when it's crunch time. The motivation of failing to complete the adventure and having my friends give me silent Lee Trevino-esque shakes of the head over my failure to deliver a good game being the primary force kicking me into motion. I am very much a creature of Newton's First Law; and good luck getting my bloated carcass going when it doesn't want to.
I have nothing but respect for game designers. It's work brotha, and grinding, oh so grinding work at that. Ideas don't flow from you like some sort of divine conduit onto the paper. There is a force of will involved that I have a hard time lassoing, a willingness to hammer through the lack of ideas to get what you want. I hop around from project to project like a methed out squirrel without completing them hoping that some finger of providence will smack me in the head and give me the ability to slap pure nerdy gold onto the table, but I think I'm going to be waiting a long time for that to happen.
It's kind of more of a bummer when you do actually complete something and work up the cojones to send it off in an attempt to get your crap published and it falls flat on its face. Honestly the rejection letters aren't too bad. They're usually at least polite in telling you no. It's the no response that kills, that heavy feeling that you've crapped the tub so bad that you're not even worth sending a bugger off letter to. And then you start reading the stuff that did get accepted and your inner Alex Forrest starts to bubble up to the surface, wondering how the hell that could get the nod while the work of unrivaled genius you rattled off is now wedged between a puke stained shirt and a copy of Chunky Asses in a garbage scow.
Well to be fair I'm probably not cut out to make a living being a writer. I'd just blow the money on a chariot drawn by ten midgets dressed like cowboys or something equally weird. And I'd be spending most of my time rubbing it in certain people's faces, cause I'm classy that way. It's kind a rotten thing to admit to oneself that one of your primary motivations is being a ball of spite and pettiness but there you go. Still though, doesn't mean I can't try.
Despite my best efforts I usually only work when it's crunch time. The motivation of failing to complete the adventure and having my friends give me silent Lee Trevino-esque shakes of the head over my failure to deliver a good game being the primary force kicking me into motion. I am very much a creature of Newton's First Law; and good luck getting my bloated carcass going when it doesn't want to.
I have nothing but respect for game designers. It's work brotha, and grinding, oh so grinding work at that. Ideas don't flow from you like some sort of divine conduit onto the paper. There is a force of will involved that I have a hard time lassoing, a willingness to hammer through the lack of ideas to get what you want. I hop around from project to project like a methed out squirrel without completing them hoping that some finger of providence will smack me in the head and give me the ability to slap pure nerdy gold onto the table, but I think I'm going to be waiting a long time for that to happen.
It's kind of more of a bummer when you do actually complete something and work up the cojones to send it off in an attempt to get your crap published and it falls flat on its face. Honestly the rejection letters aren't too bad. They're usually at least polite in telling you no. It's the no response that kills, that heavy feeling that you've crapped the tub so bad that you're not even worth sending a bugger off letter to. And then you start reading the stuff that did get accepted and your inner Alex Forrest starts to bubble up to the surface, wondering how the hell that could get the nod while the work of unrivaled genius you rattled off is now wedged between a puke stained shirt and a copy of Chunky Asses in a garbage scow.
Well to be fair I'm probably not cut out to make a living being a writer. I'd just blow the money on a chariot drawn by ten midgets dressed like cowboys or something equally weird. And I'd be spending most of my time rubbing it in certain people's faces, cause I'm classy that way. It's kind a rotten thing to admit to oneself that one of your primary motivations is being a ball of spite and pettiness but there you go. Still though, doesn't mean I can't try.
Thursday, June 6, 2013
It's a Fire Mister, And All Fires Are Bad
There comes a time as a player and a DM you'll run into a disaster game. Sometimes it comes on slow and grinding; the initial rush of the start of a game giving way a sinking feeling that you're watching the wave about to broadside the Poseidon. A quick look around shows that your friends are either starring at cell phones or making phallic symbols with dice piles. This is not a good thing.
Sometimes you'll know right away, and the ominous words of the Grail Knight will echo in your skull, and the game you're about to play is a born dog. It might be that the DM has just waxed poetical about how their campaign world is like Byron meets Yeats meets Stephine Meyer, or perhaps has to explain why they have a plywood box with four eye screws dominating their living room (don't ask). Regardless, you've just stepped into a mine field.
It can be a hard spot to be in. Most of the time the person running the game or playing in it is your friend, and real feelings can be hurt when explaining why you'd rather be pounding drywall screws into your forearm then play at that game. As a DM it can be easier. Talking to your players and finding out why they're bored out of their skulls can be an ego bruiser, but a necessary evil. Sometimes what you have planned and what they want is simply incompatible. If what you want to run isn't what they had in mind then hash it out and see if you can salvage things. If not put the game into the freezer and wait till you have more compatible players for what you have in mind. Sometimes its the brutal truth you simply suck as a DM. This could mean a change of system or needing to go back to the drawing board, or hanging up the shield.
As a player though, things can be trickier. You've agreed to play in this person's game and now you find yourself in a mudpit wasting your valuable time. If you can salvage a glimmer of hope from the game then stick around a few sessions. Everyone has off days and your DM might just be having one. Most of the time simply talking to the DM can resolve a lot of your issues, be it the game or perhaps a fellow player you're not compatible with. And sometimes the only answer is to walk away. Remember: it's a game and meant to be enjoyable. Don't lose your mind over something you're not having fun at.
If nothing else learn from why the game went down in flames. Some of the best lessons I've learned as a RPG player have come from train wrecks. Pay attention and try to avoid the screw ups that you've either committed in the past or what the DM did. If you're starting a game with a group of people that you know prefer a combat heavy game and have seen them get glass eyed and bored when another DM tried to run them through his version of the Age of Innocence, tailor your stuff accordingly. Take advantage of every opportunity to improve yourself as a RPG gamer, even if it's a disaster game.
Sometimes you'll know right away, and the ominous words of the Grail Knight will echo in your skull, and the game you're about to play is a born dog. It might be that the DM has just waxed poetical about how their campaign world is like Byron meets Yeats meets Stephine Meyer, or perhaps has to explain why they have a plywood box with four eye screws dominating their living room (don't ask). Regardless, you've just stepped into a mine field.
It can be a hard spot to be in. Most of the time the person running the game or playing in it is your friend, and real feelings can be hurt when explaining why you'd rather be pounding drywall screws into your forearm then play at that game. As a DM it can be easier. Talking to your players and finding out why they're bored out of their skulls can be an ego bruiser, but a necessary evil. Sometimes what you have planned and what they want is simply incompatible. If what you want to run isn't what they had in mind then hash it out and see if you can salvage things. If not put the game into the freezer and wait till you have more compatible players for what you have in mind. Sometimes its the brutal truth you simply suck as a DM. This could mean a change of system or needing to go back to the drawing board, or hanging up the shield.
As a player though, things can be trickier. You've agreed to play in this person's game and now you find yourself in a mudpit wasting your valuable time. If you can salvage a glimmer of hope from the game then stick around a few sessions. Everyone has off days and your DM might just be having one. Most of the time simply talking to the DM can resolve a lot of your issues, be it the game or perhaps a fellow player you're not compatible with. And sometimes the only answer is to walk away. Remember: it's a game and meant to be enjoyable. Don't lose your mind over something you're not having fun at.
If nothing else learn from why the game went down in flames. Some of the best lessons I've learned as a RPG player have come from train wrecks. Pay attention and try to avoid the screw ups that you've either committed in the past or what the DM did. If you're starting a game with a group of people that you know prefer a combat heavy game and have seen them get glass eyed and bored when another DM tried to run them through his version of the Age of Innocence, tailor your stuff accordingly. Take advantage of every opportunity to improve yourself as a RPG gamer, even if it's a disaster game.
Monday, June 3, 2013
Though It Be But Small, It is Fierce
Well my usual track record of poorly maintaining any sort of blog continues. Ah well. Saturday we had a smaller group of players than usual meaning the meat grinder, ass destroying dungeon I had been working on for the past few weeks was probably going to be a bad idea. So after an afternoon of hellish, neurotic introspection I quickly slapped together a two hour adventure. And hey, the players really seemed to enjoy themselves.
The tendency exists, especially when you have a group as cat-herdingly likely to get together as ours, to try and get a five to six hour game in. But such a game can also lead to boredom, which in the world of hand held wireless internet, can lead to looking at cat pictures and porn at the gaming table, which leads to the ADD, porn addicted DM to stop to look, which force feeds the Ouroboros of suck that you find yourself in. The quick pickup game can be an enthusiasm shot to the arm your game needs. It's a chance to try little quirky ideas that you might not be able to shoe horn into a large adventure. It can also be a chance to work out your free-form muscles, especially if you tend to be a DM that over plots things.
I myself use them for this. I tend to over plan and overwrite when prepping an adventure, which leads to the infrequency I run games. It's a good exercise to say, "OK. This is the situation. Let the players work through this and I'll respond in kind." While I don't endorse loosey-goosey games all the time since they can lead to players milling around confused, its at times better to run that then nothing.
For example, the last game the party was given the task by Dwarven Mr Miyagi as voiced by Scruffy the Janitor to retrieve a crystal that is needed to open a door into the dungeon I had planned. It was being used as a bit of bling by an ice oni that had taken over a tribe of frost giants. Now what I did was work out a few set pieces and design the giant camp and think to myself a few ideas of what the players *might* do to get in and get the gem key so I wasn't completely unprepared.
It went well. The party managed to negotiate with one of the giants for entry, who as a whole weren't real thrilled with the sadistic oni running things. Now the party could have attacked the giants, they could have tried to hide from them and try to sneak into the camp, they could have done any number of things I didn't anticipate. But the cool thing is the party got to work things out themselves rather then have it rammed down their throats. It lead to a fun, challenging fight with the oni and a couple of his goons and some fun role playing moments that might not have happened with a larger group.
You don't have to have a smaller game be free form. I simply prefer my more free form games to be smaller since the shorter the time the less chances of you doing a royal pooch screw. Free form games are fun, but are a juggling session. The longer you have those balls in the air the better chance you have of dropping them. You can run a very fine, well prepared shorter game and I have done so many many times. But don't be afraid of improvisation.
Running a game with little prep is great exercise every now and then and will help your DMing in the long run. Thinking on your feet is an acquired trait and has little to do with how smart you are. Some of the smartest people I know are horrible at it. It's something you're only going to learn by putting yourself out there. It's the nature of the beast and it's best to get used to it. Now before we get ahead of ourselves let me caution don't step out cold into the game. Even the best comedians have a lot of their material pre-memorized. Sitting and thinking through as to what you think your players might do is a very good idea so you're not caught completely flat footed. Understand though that nine times out of ten they're going to do something you didn't think of, and a lot of times the best thing you can respond with is, "Yes."
It's a tendency of DMs to panic when an idea comes up they didn't think of. I'm as guilty of this as anybody. But I've learned if the idea isn't hand roasting hot dogs stupid ("I wanna hug this clearly trapped statue! Pass the Buffalo Sauce! Woogadity WOO!") go with it. Stop a second and think it through when you're shooting an idea down. Are you doing it because it's a moronic idea or because you didn't think of it and your knee-jerk reaction is shooting it down? Trust me; going with it leads to much better free-form games that your players will like a heck of a lot more.
Well this post kind of drifted off subject but ah well. As a final note I am currently working on a story, which a lot of my wanting to write mojo has gone into. If there is any interest outside of the people that have already seen it I'll post some of it here to see what people think. As always please feel free to leave comments so that the black hole is my ego can be fed. I'm telling you, when this sucker gets a 100 views I'm going to post a video of my polypy self dancing a jitterbug. Just cause.
The tendency exists, especially when you have a group as cat-herdingly likely to get together as ours, to try and get a five to six hour game in. But such a game can also lead to boredom, which in the world of hand held wireless internet, can lead to looking at cat pictures and porn at the gaming table, which leads to the ADD, porn addicted DM to stop to look, which force feeds the Ouroboros of suck that you find yourself in. The quick pickup game can be an enthusiasm shot to the arm your game needs. It's a chance to try little quirky ideas that you might not be able to shoe horn into a large adventure. It can also be a chance to work out your free-form muscles, especially if you tend to be a DM that over plots things.
I myself use them for this. I tend to over plan and overwrite when prepping an adventure, which leads to the infrequency I run games. It's a good exercise to say, "OK. This is the situation. Let the players work through this and I'll respond in kind." While I don't endorse loosey-goosey games all the time since they can lead to players milling around confused, its at times better to run that then nothing.
For example, the last game the party was given the task by Dwarven Mr Miyagi as voiced by Scruffy the Janitor to retrieve a crystal that is needed to open a door into the dungeon I had planned. It was being used as a bit of bling by an ice oni that had taken over a tribe of frost giants. Now what I did was work out a few set pieces and design the giant camp and think to myself a few ideas of what the players *might* do to get in and get the gem key so I wasn't completely unprepared.
It went well. The party managed to negotiate with one of the giants for entry, who as a whole weren't real thrilled with the sadistic oni running things. Now the party could have attacked the giants, they could have tried to hide from them and try to sneak into the camp, they could have done any number of things I didn't anticipate. But the cool thing is the party got to work things out themselves rather then have it rammed down their throats. It lead to a fun, challenging fight with the oni and a couple of his goons and some fun role playing moments that might not have happened with a larger group.
You don't have to have a smaller game be free form. I simply prefer my more free form games to be smaller since the shorter the time the less chances of you doing a royal pooch screw. Free form games are fun, but are a juggling session. The longer you have those balls in the air the better chance you have of dropping them. You can run a very fine, well prepared shorter game and I have done so many many times. But don't be afraid of improvisation.
Running a game with little prep is great exercise every now and then and will help your DMing in the long run. Thinking on your feet is an acquired trait and has little to do with how smart you are. Some of the smartest people I know are horrible at it. It's something you're only going to learn by putting yourself out there. It's the nature of the beast and it's best to get used to it. Now before we get ahead of ourselves let me caution don't step out cold into the game. Even the best comedians have a lot of their material pre-memorized. Sitting and thinking through as to what you think your players might do is a very good idea so you're not caught completely flat footed. Understand though that nine times out of ten they're going to do something you didn't think of, and a lot of times the best thing you can respond with is, "Yes."
It's a tendency of DMs to panic when an idea comes up they didn't think of. I'm as guilty of this as anybody. But I've learned if the idea isn't hand roasting hot dogs stupid ("I wanna hug this clearly trapped statue! Pass the Buffalo Sauce! Woogadity WOO!") go with it. Stop a second and think it through when you're shooting an idea down. Are you doing it because it's a moronic idea or because you didn't think of it and your knee-jerk reaction is shooting it down? Trust me; going with it leads to much better free-form games that your players will like a heck of a lot more.
Well this post kind of drifted off subject but ah well. As a final note I am currently working on a story, which a lot of my wanting to write mojo has gone into. If there is any interest outside of the people that have already seen it I'll post some of it here to see what people think. As always please feel free to leave comments so that the black hole is my ego can be fed. I'm telling you, when this sucker gets a 100 views I'm going to post a video of my polypy self dancing a jitterbug. Just cause.
Monday, February 25, 2013
A Horrible Experience of Unbearable Length
Last Saturday after my Pathfinder game my friends and myself settled in to watch Deathstalker, kindly purchased for me by the delightful Chris Card. For those who don't know because they've experienced joy and hope in life, the Deathstalker movies are a horrible, horrible series of ever-increasingly cheap sword and sorcery flicks that are hilarious in their incompetence. While we live in the era of the Bad Movie (the fact that Michael Bay can have money fights with Steven Spielberg after they've Cleveland Steamed my childhood fills me with a sense of cosmic depression) as any trip to the local cinema will show, the wonderful era of the delightful bad movie is sadly past us.
Which I find regrettable. I can look back with warm nostalgia at the mind-blastingly bad movies of my formative years. Movies like Troll, Trilogy of Terror I and II, The Re-Animator, Beastmaster, The Blade Master, Dolomite; true testaments to the human spirit. I really couldn't to this day tell you what Lifeforce was really about but I still rank it as a special movie, mostly because it was the first time I remember seeing a naked woman (not counting pressing my face against the TV watching scrambled porn channels like some sort of degenerate Magic Eye poster).
The death of VHS and the death of the video store were the end of that golden era. VHS was the perfect format for the bad movie, picking up the torch after the drive in let out a death rattle and plunged off the cliff. It allowed people like St Corman and the Holy Church that was American International Pictures and its chosen disciple Orion to cheaply pump out the finest schlock and knockoffs Italy had to offer. It allowed anyone with a camcorder and a dream to browbeat their friends into helping them to fulfill that dream. The dyed Karo syrup flowed, boom mikes were visible and people that vaguely remembered high school Spanish classes were given jobs as dubbers. All was right in the world.
The video store was the market of these dreams. The small business, Mom and Pop stores where you could find 2001 A Space Odyssey sitting alongside Metalstorm: The Destruction of Jared Syn. The hours I spent watching horrible Euro-sleaze movies that were dubbed by what I assume were actors given horse-grade, Keith Moon approved tranquilizers were some of the happiest of my young life. Even browsing the titles was a treat, especially when spotting the same movie under two different titles and with two different sets of box art.
Occasionally one would find a gem amid the filth. Tombs of the Blind Dead at times almost approached something that if you turned and squinted could be called artful and inventive. The Resurrected is horribly overlooked when discussing the best Lovecraft films of all time. Waxworks 2 should be required viewing by anyone that rolls dice and plays make-believe. The Eliminators is like watching someones out of control, mad, brilliant RIFTS game played out. And of course the king itself: The Last Dragon, perhaps the finest Motown Kung Fu film ever produced in that august genre.
A certain pity fills me thinking of how the generations to come will miss out on all of that. Chain stores and their depressing, mediocre selection killed off the Mom and Pops, and have in turn been driven to the fate of the Dodo by Netflix. Tastes have changed too I suppose. The moronic single beat slasher picture has given way to somehow even more tasteless borderline snuff film torture porn and Dramamine required found footage films.
I guess this is more of trading across the line then any sort of improvement or degeneracy. The slasher genre has always been one I've poked with a stick, backed off, gingerly approached and then poked again before scuttling off. I always preferred the cheerful stupidity of the sword and sorcery genre and the gooey gooey hamster gablooey mentality of the Italian horror film of the 70's and 80's. But to each their own.
Time passes and inevitably things you love will fade and vanish. We are the stuff that dreams are made on after all. But as the Boss once said, "Maybe everything that dies someday comes back". So maybe someday the craptapular movies of my youth will make a resurgence. Let's hope so. I mean, Robert ZaDar needs work too people.
Which I find regrettable. I can look back with warm nostalgia at the mind-blastingly bad movies of my formative years. Movies like Troll, Trilogy of Terror I and II, The Re-Animator, Beastmaster, The Blade Master, Dolomite; true testaments to the human spirit. I really couldn't to this day tell you what Lifeforce was really about but I still rank it as a special movie, mostly because it was the first time I remember seeing a naked woman (not counting pressing my face against the TV watching scrambled porn channels like some sort of degenerate Magic Eye poster).
The death of VHS and the death of the video store were the end of that golden era. VHS was the perfect format for the bad movie, picking up the torch after the drive in let out a death rattle and plunged off the cliff. It allowed people like St Corman and the Holy Church that was American International Pictures and its chosen disciple Orion to cheaply pump out the finest schlock and knockoffs Italy had to offer. It allowed anyone with a camcorder and a dream to browbeat their friends into helping them to fulfill that dream. The dyed Karo syrup flowed, boom mikes were visible and people that vaguely remembered high school Spanish classes were given jobs as dubbers. All was right in the world.
The video store was the market of these dreams. The small business, Mom and Pop stores where you could find 2001 A Space Odyssey sitting alongside Metalstorm: The Destruction of Jared Syn. The hours I spent watching horrible Euro-sleaze movies that were dubbed by what I assume were actors given horse-grade, Keith Moon approved tranquilizers were some of the happiest of my young life. Even browsing the titles was a treat, especially when spotting the same movie under two different titles and with two different sets of box art.
Occasionally one would find a gem amid the filth. Tombs of the Blind Dead at times almost approached something that if you turned and squinted could be called artful and inventive. The Resurrected is horribly overlooked when discussing the best Lovecraft films of all time. Waxworks 2 should be required viewing by anyone that rolls dice and plays make-believe. The Eliminators is like watching someones out of control, mad, brilliant RIFTS game played out. And of course the king itself: The Last Dragon, perhaps the finest Motown Kung Fu film ever produced in that august genre.
A certain pity fills me thinking of how the generations to come will miss out on all of that. Chain stores and their depressing, mediocre selection killed off the Mom and Pops, and have in turn been driven to the fate of the Dodo by Netflix. Tastes have changed too I suppose. The moronic single beat slasher picture has given way to somehow even more tasteless borderline snuff film torture porn and Dramamine required found footage films.
I guess this is more of trading across the line then any sort of improvement or degeneracy. The slasher genre has always been one I've poked with a stick, backed off, gingerly approached and then poked again before scuttling off. I always preferred the cheerful stupidity of the sword and sorcery genre and the gooey gooey hamster gablooey mentality of the Italian horror film of the 70's and 80's. But to each their own.
Time passes and inevitably things you love will fade and vanish. We are the stuff that dreams are made on after all. But as the Boss once said, "Maybe everything that dies someday comes back". So maybe someday the craptapular movies of my youth will make a resurgence. Let's hope so. I mean, Robert ZaDar needs work too people.
Sunday, February 24, 2013
What Makes a Game Lebowski?
A few weeks ago I was at a nice little con called Almacon. As it was about a mile from my house it a must go to. While mostly an anime con it did have some role-playing, along with some seminars. I went to one that was called Winging It!: Doing Things on the Quick, or something along those lines. It was interesting but not in the way I believe it was intended. If I were giving out titles I believe How to Punish Your Players For Getting Lucky would have been appropriate.
I don't mean this as an insult or anything. The guy doing it was lively and was very passionate about running his game, and his present players seemed to greatly enjoy his style. Several people there were on the verge of shouting, "Preach it Brother!" while waving arms in the air, so I do believe that there were targets for the seminar. To myself what was far more interesting was the contrast in styles between how I approach gaming and how other people play the same game.
Differences in play styles have always intrigued me. The true strength possessed by RPGS over other games is that two people using the same game engine can come up with something completely different that is equally enjoyed by all. I ghost around at several RPG forums, and I'm always amazed at where people take RPGs. While at times it's aggravating to wade through forums and their vernacular (I feel the terms "nerfed", "play balance"and "tier" need to be shot out of a cannon into the side of a large, solid wall) I find people's issues with and discussions about their system of choice as an endlessly fascinating window into their games.
To get to the point what I'm curious about is what makes a great game to different people? What keeps bringing people back to the table time after time? What as a DM can I do to insure that my players are having a good time and leave the table raring to play again? There is a certain magic when everything clicks in a RPG, and I want to know what triggers that in different people so that I might incorporate that in my games.
A difficult quest to be sure. I've played with and read about all manners of players and DMs, some of which have quite different play styles and methods than mine. I've gotten lucky. Even when I've had players that were polar opposites from myself in terms of play style I've usually managed to insure they've had a great time. I'm fairly proud that in 25 years of DMing I've only had one player that I truly couldn't handle running games for, and judging from his reputation as RPG poison I'm not the only one. Regardless though, there is always room for improvement.
Of my own gaming style I prefer a rules-lighter game. I'm not as comfortable with the Pathfinder ruleset as I was with Advanced Dungeons and Dragons and I like maintaining a certain pace to my games, and I find having to stop and look at a rule book repeatedly during play to be a very tedious slog. I've played with people however, that enjoy that aspect of the game very much and tend to treat it as a tactical war game where you simply don't play if you don't have a map or minis available. I've played with others that simply seethe at the mention of minis being used and run the game without them or any sort of map. It can be an extremely hard time striking the right balance between the different, often extreme views on what player's derive their fun from.
So to me there it is. There is no right and proper one way to run a game and have everyone enjoy themselves. A good DM is willing to shift between play styles to accommodate their players, often within one game. A session can start off as a game of cat and mouse between the players and the villain before turning into a running battle through moon lit streets against his henchmen. Even the most harmonious party is going to have a different opinion between the players on what constitutes a great game. Any good DM is going to learn what that is and make the effort to insure that each player gets at least one moment of their preferred style.
I don't mean this as an insult or anything. The guy doing it was lively and was very passionate about running his game, and his present players seemed to greatly enjoy his style. Several people there were on the verge of shouting, "Preach it Brother!" while waving arms in the air, so I do believe that there were targets for the seminar. To myself what was far more interesting was the contrast in styles between how I approach gaming and how other people play the same game.
Differences in play styles have always intrigued me. The true strength possessed by RPGS over other games is that two people using the same game engine can come up with something completely different that is equally enjoyed by all. I ghost around at several RPG forums, and I'm always amazed at where people take RPGs. While at times it's aggravating to wade through forums and their vernacular (I feel the terms "nerfed", "play balance"and "tier" need to be shot out of a cannon into the side of a large, solid wall) I find people's issues with and discussions about their system of choice as an endlessly fascinating window into their games.
To get to the point what I'm curious about is what makes a great game to different people? What keeps bringing people back to the table time after time? What as a DM can I do to insure that my players are having a good time and leave the table raring to play again? There is a certain magic when everything clicks in a RPG, and I want to know what triggers that in different people so that I might incorporate that in my games.
A difficult quest to be sure. I've played with and read about all manners of players and DMs, some of which have quite different play styles and methods than mine. I've gotten lucky. Even when I've had players that were polar opposites from myself in terms of play style I've usually managed to insure they've had a great time. I'm fairly proud that in 25 years of DMing I've only had one player that I truly couldn't handle running games for, and judging from his reputation as RPG poison I'm not the only one. Regardless though, there is always room for improvement.
Of my own gaming style I prefer a rules-lighter game. I'm not as comfortable with the Pathfinder ruleset as I was with Advanced Dungeons and Dragons and I like maintaining a certain pace to my games, and I find having to stop and look at a rule book repeatedly during play to be a very tedious slog. I've played with people however, that enjoy that aspect of the game very much and tend to treat it as a tactical war game where you simply don't play if you don't have a map or minis available. I've played with others that simply seethe at the mention of minis being used and run the game without them or any sort of map. It can be an extremely hard time striking the right balance between the different, often extreme views on what player's derive their fun from.
So to me there it is. There is no right and proper one way to run a game and have everyone enjoy themselves. A good DM is willing to shift between play styles to accommodate their players, often within one game. A session can start off as a game of cat and mouse between the players and the villain before turning into a running battle through moon lit streets against his henchmen. Even the most harmonious party is going to have a different opinion between the players on what constitutes a great game. Any good DM is going to learn what that is and make the effort to insure that each player gets at least one moment of their preferred style.
That Is No Country For Old Men
Right. So at the moment the campaign I have been working on for the past seven years is winding down. I'm not sure if I should feel relieved or sad. Honestly at this point the game is pretty much the PCs doing a victory lap around the campaign world, getting high fives and ol' fashions from good looking groupies. They're at a power level where climbing the highest mountain and punching God isn't too far out of reach.
I like Pathfinder; one might even claim I have a mild crush on Pathfinder as a system. I write its name on my algebra book in little hearts and my heart beats a little faster when it calls and says yo to me in the hallways. But let me tell you, there have been some hiccups. I've never been all that hot when it comes to high level games, and in a system as complex as Pathfinder that problem is simply aggravated, and I'm seeing that big time now.
I've always considered myself a player's DM. I like to challenge my players in different ways and give them that feeling of, "oh man. I'm hurting Sweet Chuck style" without actually wracking up a kill count. I want my players to feel involved with their characters and have them mean something. I want them to become involved in my campaign world through their characters. It's a kind of social contract I establish. You put the time and effort into making your character into something other then a set of numbers and I won't arbitrarily slaughter them. But I'm starting to wonder at my ability to challenge the players without doing overwhelming nonsense to them.
I'd like to believe I've been doing a decent enough job at it; I know Rick and Chris were making Shemp noises last night after fighting my Siviishian Slayers. But I still feel there is a fair amount of work I need to do on my part to master the system and learn proper encounter staging. I don't know if my next game is going to go from level 1-20. This campaign has taken way too long as it is and the idea of wrapping it up the next one the year I turn 40 makes me sad in a just watched a panda in a top hat get clubbed to death by Nazis sort of way.
So as an aside I will try to maintain this blog for the oh, let's say two to three people that will bother to read it.
I like Pathfinder; one might even claim I have a mild crush on Pathfinder as a system. I write its name on my algebra book in little hearts and my heart beats a little faster when it calls and says yo to me in the hallways. But let me tell you, there have been some hiccups. I've never been all that hot when it comes to high level games, and in a system as complex as Pathfinder that problem is simply aggravated, and I'm seeing that big time now.
I've always considered myself a player's DM. I like to challenge my players in different ways and give them that feeling of, "oh man. I'm hurting Sweet Chuck style" without actually wracking up a kill count. I want my players to feel involved with their characters and have them mean something. I want them to become involved in my campaign world through their characters. It's a kind of social contract I establish. You put the time and effort into making your character into something other then a set of numbers and I won't arbitrarily slaughter them. But I'm starting to wonder at my ability to challenge the players without doing overwhelming nonsense to them.
I'd like to believe I've been doing a decent enough job at it; I know Rick and Chris were making Shemp noises last night after fighting my Siviishian Slayers. But I still feel there is a fair amount of work I need to do on my part to master the system and learn proper encounter staging. I don't know if my next game is going to go from level 1-20. This campaign has taken way too long as it is and the idea of wrapping it up the next one the year I turn 40 makes me sad in a just watched a panda in a top hat get clubbed to death by Nazis sort of way.
So as an aside I will try to maintain this blog for the oh, let's say two to three people that will bother to read it.
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