Tag: Gaming

My Nerd Holidays

Fandom

A friend of mine has fallen in love with The Last of Us, primarily through the HBO TV show. She has played a little bit of the game but I don’t think she’s finished it. All of this is preamble to her texting me a promo last week for Outbreak Day 2024 from Naughty Dog, the developer of the game series. She had thought it meant that Season 2 was coming sooner than previously announced.

I had to explain that Outbreak Day, traditionally 26 September, was the day in-game that the cordyceps infection reached the US. And because it’s a specific date, fans have made it a day to celebrate the game, story, and characters. The TV show is still not coming until next year; but fans will absolutely be celebrating Outbreak Day. She undersstood, though she was a bit disappointed.

I realized that there are lots of holidays on the Fan Calendar; dates that specific fandoms choose to talk about the stories and worlds they love. Here’s an incomplete listing of the fandoms I participate in, its meaning in-universe and in the real world, and whether or not it’s one I celebrate.

First Contact Day

In-universe: 5 April 2063

In the Star Trek universe, Zephrem Cochrane invented anti-matter/matter powered warp drive, taking flight in Earth’s first starship, the Phoenix, from Bozeman, Montana, United States of America, on 5 April 2063, an historic event. His flight attracted the attention of a Vulcan science ship, leading to Earth’s first recorded contact with extraterrestial life. Star Trek fans the world over celebrate every April on this day.

Star Wars Day

The Fourth of May

I’ve written before about how much I hate that a universe I love so very much gets it’s special universally-recognized day of the year from a foolish pun. Yes, yes, May the Fourth be with you. Ugh. By all rights, Star Wars Day should be May 25, since the original movie was released into theaters on 25 May 1977. But I don’t get to make the rules. May 4th is Star Wars Day.

The Last of Us Day (formerly Outbreak Day)

In universe: 26 September 2003 / 2013

This day celebrates the game and television series The Last of Us. The cordyceps infection reached a critical mass in the United States, having spread from South America (game) or Indonesia (TV show). In the real world, Naughty Dog renamed the day The Last of Us Day after the actual global pandemic of COVID-19 made outbreaks hit a bit too close to home.

The Great War

10 October 2077

The Fallout game series gives us the date of humanity’s Great War. In a single day in October, nuclear war destroyed the United States, turning the entire continent into a radiated wasteland full of mutants, ghouls, and leather-clad survivors. The bombs fell and it was all over very quickly.

Mass Effect Day

7 November

In the Mass Effect universe, Earth’s special forces can achieve an N designation, of which there are seven levels. The best of the best are known as an N7. Fans of the sci-fi series have taken that designation and declared November 7 “N7 Day“, and the developers and fans use the day to share fan art, stories, and raise donations for various charities and causes.

Guinevere’s Story

DnD

I’m having fun at XOXO Festival tonight, so here’s a short vignette I wrote as backstory for my D&D game. Hopefully this makes sense out of context. Enjoy.

24th of Bluesky, 502nd year Post-Cataclysm

Anelyan, my once-lost love. I did not expect you back in my life.  

As I write this, I’m riding in a cart next to your very dead body.. I’m still processing all this, and more determined than ever to do whatever the gods require to bring your soul out of the Deadlands and back to the land of mortal life. My whole world has turned from six to noon, as the old Imperial saying goes, in less than a day.

Maybe more than that. Two days ago, while casing a warehouse that had been occupied by a squad of squatters, I got a message from Enewen that said these two newcomers to town, a half-elf named Olmak and a halfling named Milo, wanted to talk to me, and implied heavily that Milo was a former member of the Shadow Family guild in Kopno’domas, which put him and I on the same side by the traditional calculation of “enemy of my enemy” and all that. 

Still didn’t mean I trusted them, though, and by the time I got the message, I still had a day or two to scout out the lay of the land, so that’s what I’ve been doing the past day or two. They were babysitting some Blackfeathers and took them north along the peninsula, twice, and came back in poor shape both times; at least two of the four were injured to the point of death each time. Did they find the tomb of Ser Borin, last champion of the Duskmaven? Hard to say, but their bags were heavy the second time; maybe they’d found something.

The half-elf wearing rough leather clothes and who talks to ravens is hard to hide from, but I’d managed it, just barely, on their wilderness excursions. In town, though, this morning, was more demanding. I’d used a glamour to hide my appearance — not just for them, of course, there are other folks looking for me — and since casting this illusion is a new trick for me, I was a bit clumsy. I got made when they stopped for breakfast at Rhoban’s. But I was able to fade into the crowd around the plaza, and they seemed to have other business.

They joined one of the friars who was carting pony kegs up to the old fort, Friar Willy, a friendly drunk who had gotten up to some adventures a few years ago with Warjos and Ilbahn but who was laying low recently. The burglar (Milo) and woodsman (Olmak) appeared to be using Willy to get into the castle. Was that their con? I followed them up the stairs at a distance but got denied entry to the castle, so I took the path around to see if they came out the other side and continued toward the lighthouse. A calculated gamble but it did eventually pay off. 

Still keeping my distance (damn Olmak’s eyes! he’s hard to avoid notice) I loitered near the ocean side of the bluff, watching the Elven warships at anchor past the Breaker Bar, and admiring the griffon riders’ maneuvers. After shooing off some wretched-looking black birds (definitely not ravens, not anymore,) my marks chatted up the lighthouse caretaker, an old gent named… Henri? Henri Redstream? Not sure, I don’t spend much time at tourist traps like this, especially if they have cranky old wizards in them. There are easier targets to loot. But I got made, again (curse Olmak’s eagle eyes) and it looked like they were going to go inside, so I decided to get it over with and speak to them. And, long story cut short, that’s when I found out you had died but somehow your ghost remained. Unfinished business, with me.

Normally I love being right. I was right to tell you that adventuring was too dangerous. I was right to tell you to go back to your farm, tend your crops, and find a nice simple farmwife to settle down with. I’ve gotten out of too many close scrapes to want to see you exposed to that same danger. All our arguments beside the firepit flashed before my eyes. But something did not add up. We were both devoted to Our Lady of Ravens, and She hated the undead. Why were you a ghost? Were the gods toying with us? I had to find out more.

I tried talking these three, Olmak, Milo, and Friar Willy, out of coming with me, but they seemed sincere in helping me. If this was a trap, their bringing one of Rhoban’s priests with them, was an almost impossible level of cover. Willy was known around town, a native son, jovial and lusty and always drunk, but not a liar or cheat. His reputation eased some of my suspicions. Plus they had a cart back at their camp. 

We stopped by their camp to attend to their Blackfeather babies. Even though they and I both give honor to the Raven Queen, I consider them wannabes and charlatans. But meeting Alquorin I saw a hint of steel behind the silk. I am almost certain that he managed to survive making a pact with the Matron of Ravens. Only time will tell if he and his girlfriend, Marjolane, can harness that power. Am I sad I missed that opportunity? Perhaps, but maybe there will be future chances. As far as I know, it’s possible for Patrons to have more than one Champion at a time. I know the Pig-Lord of the Undead does.

We rode the hour or so to the safe house. Olmak and Milo debated stopping to see where they found Anelyan’s body but instead we pushed on to the house. Milo snuck up to a window and reported that the body and the spirit were both inside, so we advanced. But the ghost apparated out of the wall too swiftly to counter, and briefly possessed Olmak before the friar was able to compel the ghost to leave. It flew fast as it could and once it was 100′ or so from the house it dissipated.

Olmak was sure that it would return, though, so I went in and gathered up your body and we high-tailed it back to town. And… I feel I owe it to you to give you another chance at life. I know that the high priestess of Rhoban can bring people back from the dead; she’s done it before (for instance, Ilbahn’s son from that unpleasantness a few years back), and that requires an offering of a diamond of great worth, more expensive the longer the soul has been gone. And I know where I might get one; the sorcerer in that warehouse down by the docks has been collecting gems.

I could (probably) have faced your vengeful spirit alone, but I think I’ll need some help with these bandits if it all goes tits up. Luckily, Willy, Milo, and Olmak are down to help out. I’m sure they can get something of value out of this; I just need one shiny rock.

This post isn’t about that

General

I am very sleepy tonight. Not sure why I’m so tired today except of course for the disordered sleeping from the past couple of nights. I go to bed early, wake up in the middle of the night, can’t get right back to sleep, and by the time I do there’s only a few hours left until the alarm goes off. A couple of nights of that would be enough to tire out anyone, I think.

Still need to write something, so I’m relying on habit, as is my usual tactic. It’s warm in this room even though the weather has cooled a bit. The room is warm because this is where my computer sits, and my computer, being a gaming PC, produces a lot of excess heat. I am not using the extra graphics capability right now. Right now I’m typing out green words on a black background, my writing style of choice. This green-on-black reminds me of terminals, and command lines, and old old writing programs. I don’t stop to examine why I like it, I just do.

Spent most of the day wishing I could be thinking and writing D&D stuff but instead, I had to do work stuff. Boring, stressful, work stuff. Not going to talk about that now, though. I’d rather not think about it. There must be something else for me to write about?

Would it be D&D? I have to set up a WordPress site for Biscuit Con at some point. That’s D&D related. I have some really fun ideas for the next few sessions of my campaign. I can’t really post about them here because my players might see it, but let me just say that this next phase of the campaign is set in and around a druid grove. I think my players think of the druids as bad guys. I’m not going to say one way or the other. They, like all my other factions, have their goals, and what they would do to achieve those goals, and not everyone in the faction agrees on either of those points 100%. This should be a nice break, though, from fighting undead and kobolds for them. I get to use other enemies. Fun stuff.

XOXO is coming. My first volunteer shift is this coming Thursday after work. I can’t remember what I’m doing but it’ll be good to be among the techno-artists again. I have severe imposter syndrome for my own sake but I really like the hopeful, progressive, creative, and techno-focused vibe from the founders, staff, volunteers, guests, and attendees for this conference. I wrote about what it is a few days ago; go check out that post.

If you’re reading this and you’re an XOXO-ian, say hi! I think somehow I got a burst of traffic from there. This isn’t an XOXO focused post, though. I’m just fumbling my way to 500 words so I can go rest. I’m pretty close now, so perhaps you’ll forgive me if I don’t try to find a nice “button” ending. But thanks for reading. I love you all.

Biscuit Con 2024 Closing Thoughts

DnD

My current D&D game started two years ago. We had our Session 0 on 18 August 2022. I had notes for a small city, some NPCs, and vague ideas of three different plots the players could involve themselves in: joining up with an army preparing for war, finding out why river pirates had turned to kidnapping, and chasing down some cultists looking for a ceremonial sword.

That first session was spent on the players choosing among several characters they had made, then a simple scenario of busting out of a brig on a pirate ship and figuring out what to do next. They decided to lay low, ran into a bear being harassed by ravens over the dead body of an elven woman, and the campaign was off to a rousing start.

Only two of those players, Vic and Shawn, stuck with the game the whole time; we’ve added three other players, Scott, Adam, and Zach; the current group has been stable for at least a year, I think. Through the entire run of the game, we have been playing online, through Discord, with the use of the Avrae bot and the help of D&D Beyond. Until now.

This Friday, we all met in person for the first time as a group. I’ve known two of my players in real life for a while; the others I have only known online. But a couple of months ago, Shawn, who lives in Arizona, mentioned he had to come to Portland for a work trip and we planned some in-person gaming.

Since Shawn, and Scott, both had to come to Portland from out of town, we decided to use one of their hotel rooms for the game. Since we had a weekend for gaming, both myself and the other DM, Vic, talked about running sessions for each of our games. We joked about sheduling, and somehow that gave it a feeling of a mini-convention, just for the six of us.

Someone said we should name it, the warlock’s imp familiar lent his name, and suddenly we had gone from arranging a game weekend to running and attending Biscuit Con 2024. We dreamt up logos with the help of AI, someone asked Google Gemini to design a badge. Biscuit, a little imp with the manic energy of a pyromaniac six year old, was an excellent mascot, along with actual biscuits (the English kind, not the American kind, because the AI did not understand we wanted fluffy dinner rolls and not hard cookies.)

The next step was putting up a domain. The site is empty, under construction, but the joke will keep going.

I have actual reservations about running an actual D&D oriented gaming convention; as an organizer I’d be managing things and not, y’know, playing D&D. But it is a fun idea to loop more people into a chaotic scheme, and if it meant I get to hang out with this loony group would be more than worth it.

Biscuit Con 2024 was a rousing success. Sorry you missed it. Stay tuned for registration information for next year. I proposed we have the goal of doubling attendance. I think we can do it.

The Night-Captain’s Report

DnD

Another story I wrote as a sort of recap for the players in my D&D game. They had broken in to a warehouse. This is the Night-Captain’s viewpoint cleaning up after the fact. Enjoy!

Second bell past midnight

27th of Bluesky 502 AC

Warjos Dos Docks District

Guard-Commander Tullia de Cueto was still pulling on her gloves, awkwardly holding a paper-wrapped sweet nut pastry in one hand, as she walked up to the warehouse in the dead of night. She pardoned her wide-shouldered body past the small crowd of bystanders, some of whom recognized her and bid her a friendly greeting. Tullia walked around the front to the left, to where her night-captain, Savastian Traius stood, taking notes in a small journal.

“Sorry to send for you, Captain,” Savastian said, his blue eyes sincere as he pushed his hair back behind his ears. “This seemed big enough to need your attention.” Oil light spilled out of the building he stood next to, putting his face in sharp contrast, the left side of his face in darkness.

Tullia sighed and hefted the half-eaten sugary treat she held in her leather-gloved hand. “Gidden came over last night. He brought some fresh salmon and we broiled it. Not sure what he used to season it, but it was amazing. And he had these cranberry-nut things for dessert. It was a lovely evening and a lovely morning. Until I saw your face, Sav.” She took a bite, then tucked it into a pouch. “What do I need to know?” She pointed to the metal bindings of a door, hanging from the hinges, with shards of burned wood still smoldering, leaving the entrance fully open. “What happened here?”

“That’s not even the most–” Savastian started to say. He was interrupted by shouts from further inside the warehouse and a wet, raspy growl, accompanied by the sounds of heavy things being knocked over. “Friar Willy found an undead bear here.”

Tullia pinched the bridge of her nose, her wide-cheeked face and forehead blushing with a rush of frustration. “OK, start at the beginning.”

“Near as I can tell,” Sav said, “the Friar and his friends – an elf-blooded nature mage and a couple of light-armor fighters, human woman and halfling man, we didn’t get names – broke in here because they thought there was some necromancy going on.” The sounds of the zombie beast inside the warehouse continued, along with the shouts of people trying to corral it. “He was right.”

“Whose warehouse is this? Do we know? I didn’t see any signage out front.” Tullia stepped over the ashy remains of the door into the lobby. A well-worn carpet was thrashed about and pierced with many small holes; she noted the open single doors to her left and right, and open double doors straight ahead. The room was lit with oil lanterns, which made flickering shadows in the rafters overhead. 

“A merchant guild called Better Burrows, headed up by Ser Harmonio Whisperbridge out of Kopno’domas. Deals mostly in fine furniture and woodworking and textiles, typical halfling creature comforts.”

Tullia tsk’ed. “Keep the stereotypes under control, Sav. Lots of folk like nice things. Like that salmon dinner I had last night…” She peered into the door to her left and saw a pair of bunk beds and a desk, and a firepit that appeared to have burned out of control, centered in a black ring of ash and soot. She looked up and saw a flimsy metal chimney that had also been exploded, probably from above. “What happened to the workers here?”

“Uh, bad news, Captain. Some of the former workers seem to have been, well, zombified, also.”

“Torm’s stormy dick!” Tullia cursed. “We’ll have to get names and notify next of kin. Probably this Ser Whisperbridge will know. OK, zombie bear, zombie workers. We got anyone else involved?”

“Oh, I forgot to mention the undead wolf running around…” Sav put up both hands defensively to fend of his superior’s anger. “We’ve had reports of it for at least four or five days now, just haven’t had the time to track it down. Been scaring kids and threatening pets nightly. Once we finish up here I’ll round up a posse and go hunting. But, actually, we do have someone in custody. Guy named Maso. Willy turned him over to us. Guy’s still freaked out, babbling about vines and fire, but once he calms down we’ll get more info from him. He’s chilling out in the cell back at the guardpost.” Sav consulted his notes. “Maso claimed to work for a Grenjolm, been using the warehouse for the last week or two. Guard Selko has confirmed that a ship, the Her Folly, has been in dock recently, run by a Lord Captain Grenjolm de Astorga, also known as Lucon Astorga, Garlless Lucon, Grenjolm the Wild… got a long list of aliases, but Grenjolm is the most common one. Wild sorcerer.” 

Tullia, leading Sav, stepped into the warehouse. To her left were the large barn doors, still barred and locked from the inside. In front of her was a crane and under it an open shipping container, conveniently bear-sized. On the other side, three people, two of them wearing the yellow and red tabards of city watch, the other in rough street clothes, were lassoing and pinning down a rotting, angry, brown bear. The people were trying to tie off the rope to leash it in place. Beyond them, four animated corpses were chained in a line underneath a wooden catwalk, agitated and mouthing incoherent groans. Tullia shook her head, disgusted. 

“Good work, all,” she said to the people holding the ropes. “So this Maso was shipping the bear somewhere?” She poked a finger at the shipping label. “Lady Marcella Bimalchio in Barangdorn. Another message to send. Why aren’t we killing the bear? You must have a good reason.”

“We can’t afford reparations to Lady Bimalchio. Coffers can’t cover what it looks like she paid for this thing.” Sav pointed at a metal grate on the floor of the warehouse. “Maso’s gang all escaped down there, into the sewers. Probably long gone by now, but I’ll put up posters on the bounty board once we get names from Maso. Oh, and there’s a cell down there with three more workers chained up.” 

A woman wearing the red-and-yellow tabard over her studded leather armor approached from the lobby. “Found the keys. They were in the office.” She dangled the keychain and pointed her thumb behind her. “Also, the safe is open and empty. The gang likely grabbed it before they escaped.”

“Thanks, Millicent. Good work.” Sav said. “Head down and see if you can let those workers out.”

Tullia sighed. She counted off on her fingers as she spoke. “OK, we’ve got Maso for squatting, for looting, and fraudulent sales. He’s an accomplice to necromancy. Endangerment by way of uncontrolled monstrosities. Accomplice to theft. We’ve got the Rhobanite priest as a witness, along with his friends. The halfling merchant prince will press charges, along with the next-of-kin for the workers and the still-living workers. See if we can get any more information from the neighborhood; someone must have seen or heard something.”

“Yes, ma’am. And Friar Willy promised to come by the guard post tomorrow to fill us in. Probably afternoon. You know,” and Sav pantomimed taking a long drink from a large mug. 

“Sounds like you’ve got it all under control, then, Sav.” Tullia said, stepping back through the lobby and out into the street. “What did you need me for?” 

The blonde man furrowed his brow and pointed to the people still wrestling and pulling the bear toward the crate. “Well, we, uh, we could use some help with the bear!” But his captain was gone, her back fading out in the dark of the summer night. Tucking his notepad into a pouch on his belt, he cracked his knuckles and went back inside.

A Change Would Do You Good

DnD, fiction

Since I mentioned Azak and Tuud, my beloved kobold NPCs, in yesterday’s post, here’s a little short story I wrote about them. It was meant to provide my players some context after the fact. I love these two so much. Hope you enjoy them, too.

The two kobolds crept through the cave, keeping low. They turned their eyes in all directions, spotting the burnt out torches stuck in the ground, the campfire with inedible burnt meat, and the passage down.

“What do you see, Tuud?” asked the pale white kobold.

Tuud pulled the bronze rimmed goggles over his eyes. His red-scaled face scanned the cave. “Eh. Same thing I see with my regular eyes, Azak. Are you sure this is where we have to go?”

“Dorgach ordered me here. This is where our clanmembers went with the big lizardfolk.”

Tuud shook his head. “The demon. Don’t say its name.” Tuud shivered. “Saw the bodies of our clansfolk outside. Slaughtered.” 

Azak waved Tuud to come along, walking toward the side passage nearly covered with vines and roots. “Foot prints, boot prints specifically. Big people came this way.” Azak stopped, grabbing their midsection, their muzzle wrinkled with a grimace of sudden pain.

“How are you doing?” Tuud was immediately by his friend’s side, an arm around their shoulders.

Azak leaned into the hug, then shrugged it off. “I will be OK. The change will be over before we know it.”

“Change comes on dragon’s wings,” Tuud intoned. “Must be difficult. Many males have been lost–“

“Killed. Murdered.” Azak corrected him. The cave floor under their feet gave way to a black and white ceramic tile floor.

“As you say. So before the clan can grow, we need more males.” Tuud tapped his temple. “I know this, but you’re my first friend I’ve known who actually had to change, female to male.” He rested his hand on a black stone archway carved with bird shapes.

Azak scowled. “Does it make a difference?”

“No. You’re my friend.” Tuud shrugged. “Makes no difference to me. Makes no difference to the clan. Just don’t like to see you hurt.”

They had advanced down the hallway, and down some stairs, to a room with a wide stone pool in the center, filled with oddly clean and clear water. Four bronze, or maybe gold, statues of humans in feather-like armor were in each corner. A passageway led onward on the other side of the pool. 

Tuud made toward the pool to look inside; he saw some vials of bright green resting in the bottom, along with a scattering of coins. He shot a glance at his friend. Azak shook their head, though, and began searching the far doorway for signs of a trap. They poked at a slack tripwire, pointed out a scythe blade that hung, having been sprung before they’d arrived. 

“Further. It’s safe. Let’s go.”

They scampered down another set of stairs and around a corner. They entered a larger room, lined with old and broken pillars to the left and right. At the far end, a black statue, at least three kobolds tall, of a grim looking Human in feathered armor. In front of the statue was a crude platform, a slab of stone on top of piles of other stones, with several burnt-out torches around it. A pile of bodily remains were piled on top, dried blood staining the slab and foundations.

Tuud did not like the look of any of this and hesitated at the entrance. He noted more foot prints, scuffed, on the tile floor that indicated a fight. “Or a dance,” Tuud said, laughing.

Azak made a beeline toward a pile of burnt and blackened rubble against the left hand wall. They began poking around and found another body. A lizardfolk, dressed in silvered robes, had been stabbed many times, the torso almost obliterated. “What monster did this?” Azak hissed. Azak kept digging through the rubble, turning the body over. “It has to be here, it has to be! Help me!”

Tuud came over, helping to shift the debris around. “What are we looking for?”

“The staff! The staff! That is what Dorgach sent us to find.” Azak sat down, defeated, their head in their hands. “It’s not here.”

“Then we must make a new one.” A raspy voice intoned from the shadows. Tuud startled and spotted a thin humanoid shape with creepy proportions barely visible in the far corner, near where an empty cage sat.

Azak stood up and defiantly shouted. “Not from Tuud!”

Tuud startled again. “What?”

The humanoid shape sighed, then laughed. “Fine. Fine. Your friend can keep his skull. If not a fresh one, then we will need several.” A long midnight-blue arm extended from the shadow, and a long finger extended from the hand. “Start with the previous shaman’s skull, then collect the ones of your other clansfolk, and all of their arm and leg bones.”

Tuud waited but his friend pulled out a dagger and began cutting away at the lizardfolk’s robes. Tuud sighed and unsheathed his own knife.

“Azak, what is this for?” Tuud whispered to his friend “Why are we desecrating the shaman?”

“Because,” Azak said, tiredly. They wrapped scraps of the silver robes around their arms and torso. “I’m the new shaman. Lord Orcus demands it.”

In the shadows, Dorgach laughed, raucously, its deep voice booming through the fallen tomb.

The Zenith and The Nadir

DnD

I was going to cheat tonight and post something that I used ChatGPT to generate. But even if I clearly labeled it as AI generated, I could not use it to meet my 500 word goal post for the day. I have to write something out myself. Here I go.

The scenes I was going to post were fictional in-universe speeches, an outnumbered princep rallying their troops to make a final stand against a vast demonic army, the Battle of the Monontonos Plains.

I can picture the scene in my head; the Princep, a skinny and young person, pale, dressed in fancy but not very functional robes and armor, helm too big for their narrow head flopping down over their eyes as they raise their thin, reedy voice above the clamor of the thundering rainstorm that soaks them, and their soldiers.

The small squad, maybe a score of them, beaten, weary, armor dented from the running battle of their retreat, their weapons blunted against the defenses of their inhuman foes, faces caked with blood and mud, squinting up to the naive young royal who’s misfortune lead them here.

Above them, only black clouds and falling rain, split by constant sounds of cracking thunder and flashes of white-hot lightning. They stand on top of a rise that could barely qualify as a hill, a desperate palisade crafted of stunted saplings pointed outward at the base of the mound.

No other cover gives them a moment’s rest against the rain and the hail of bolts, arrows, and fire from the encircling armies. No supplies of food or medicine, no stocks of ammunition or tools to sharpen their meagre swords and spears and clubs.

And all around them, in every direction, countless horrors and demons and devils. Every enemy’s eyes shine blood-red, piercing the darkness. Every form a mockery of human shape. Every hand holds a massive weapon of war, every body clad in black iron plates the approximate thickness of a castle wall. Tiny and fast ferrocious needle-fanged swarms swirl around person-sized gangly armed swordsmen and archers. On giant booted feet ogres and giants loom above the hordes, grunting in mountainous hoots of flesh-hunger.

Enemies abound in every direction from the tiny Imperial squad. Yellow tear-filled eyes stare across a blasted barren plain of mud and grass to thousands of hungry hellish eyes.

How did it come to this, though? The speech that ChatGPT wrote for me is in the vein of inspiring but doomed speeches but surely this final stand does not bear scrutiny from a tactical standpoint. No general would allow themself and their crew to become so intensely in the worst position? Had they no fortress from which to fight? No reinforcement to shore up their defense? No higher ground from which to rain down destruction on those who would oppose them?

This is a legend, a tale told to scare leaders who would squander the loyalty given to them. Leaders should not rush to battle because lives are precious and should be spent only for righteous causes. Defense of the weak and oppressed. Attack against intolerance and ignorance and fear. Those are only the true fights, and in those battles every good general is overmatched, but can surely count victory in their grasp.

Surely, they can?

I hate printers… but

DnD

I hate printers. I really, really do. I have a stack of old tech that I need to take to FreeGeek to donate and get it out of my house, and the stack has been in the hallway at the top of the stairs for almost 6 months now. And until this weekend, two printers were in that stack. I’m adding my most recent printer, a gift from my friend Tracy that I just couldn’t get to work. I am immensely grateful for Tracy’s friendship and generosity but this printer is a malfunctioning piece of designed-by-committee-for-profit tech that is essentially a scam designed to sell ink cartridges.

I hate them. But I need a printer. What should I do? I decided I would follow Nilay Patel’s advice and just get whatever Brother printer was on sale. It’s shipping to me even as I type this. It was a bit more than I wanted to spend, but my last two printers were free; it likely all evens out over time. Brother printers apparently do not do that thing where they only accept official Brother cartridges and have hard-coded deadlines beyond which they will not print until you buy new cartridges (I’m lookin’ at you, HP) so that’s a relief.

One of the reasons I want a printer now after having no working printer for a year is because I want to print maps and things for my upcoming in-person D&D game. Have I talked about that yet? Several folks in my group are coming in to town for a long weekend of nothing but games. Old men pretending we’re young once again. Playing all night like we did when we were teenagers. I am so very excited.

But also, I’m anxious. This weekend is going to be a big deal, or should I say, A Big Deal™. As the (one of the) Dungeon Masters it’s my reponsibility to present cool ideas and plots and characters. When we play online I only have to create digital maps and images, and there are enough tools out there that let someone who is more of an ideas guy create decent pictures. In-person means physical maps, actual minatures, physical props. I’ve got just over 3 weeks. What can I do in that time?

If I had a good printer I could print out some of the digital maps. Out comes the credit card, and by credit card I mean transfer from savings because I don’t have a lot of available credit. One problem, solved.

But miniatures? That requires purchasing them… or 3D printing them. Who do I know that has a 3D printer? Unfortunately, the first people I know with 3D printers are my players. They are all nerds like me. And they are all gainfully employed and have been for a while. I am certain they would be willing to print things for me; however, it would spoil the surprise.

Another option is buying one, but since I just bought a regular laser printer, I’m somewhat cash poor. Don’t have the cash flow for that.

Another option is using Multnomah County Library’s 3D printing service. However, printing an army of miniatures feels like abuse; it’s a free service after all. And some of the things I want to print might just possibly be copyrighted and trademarked material (no spoilers) so it’s likely they might deny my request.

I kept asking around, though, and I asked a coworker if they’d be willing to print some things for me. They’re counter-offer was to just loan me the printer! I about fell out of my chair. That’s incredibly generous. They said they rarely use it, and it would clear out some closet space. Looks like I’m going to be able to print whatever I want in the three weeks until the game.

Printers. I hate them. But they’re so very useful.

Campaign Pitch: The Council

DnD

When it comes to running a D&D (or TTRPG) game, I’m a big fan of the Campaign Pitch. I first heard about it from Matt Colville in a video on the exact topic. In the video he presents the idea that a Dungeon Master could present multiple ideas for a campaign to the players. The players would then pick and choose among the various ideas to come to a consensus about what kind of game they want to run. He gave his players a document outlining his pitches.

This is counter to the way many many games have started: a DM has a campaign idea, adventure, or setting, and the players find it all out as they play. Colville had a prep document listing four different ideas, with a brief summary of what the central tension would be, what setting or location it would take place in, and a rating of the three most important themes for each one.

He ranked them all on a scale of 1 to 3 for the level of Politics, Roleplaying, and Tactics involved. He did, in the video, suggest other options for what themes are important to the DM making the pitch, though he cautioned us to keep it fairly simple. No need to overwhelm the players with many detailed options, not at first.

I pitched several ideas to my players at the start. But all three of them said all my ideas sounded fun; they didn’t favor one over the others. And maybe I didn’t make each pitch distinct enough to catch the players attention, or convey to them that they did have choice and buy-in up front.

I think they’d get it, now, though. We have all learned a lot about how we all approach the game.

I like my current game and how it’s developing, and my players also seem engaged with the world. But that doesn’t stop me from coming up with new ideas, new frameworks for adventures and characters. Today, while on my lunch break, my mind wandered and I came up with this campaign pitch, in the style of Matt Colville.

A Council of Clerics

In the centuries since the fall of the Old Empire, the gods have retreated and become much less active in the world. Clerics, churches, divine and demonic favor still exist, but there is no single dominant religion or institution. But lawful and powerful people call for a Council; a long-abandoned temple will be a host for a meeting of the minds on the topic of Gods and Mortals.

Adherents of trickster, adversarial, or individualistic gods may seek to disrupt this Council, or manipulate it for their own gain… or their own power.

Likewise, spellcasters seek audience, or simply knowledge, and may be forming their own guilds and schools, to consolidate power and create formal paths of education.

The Temple itself, long abandoned, may hold secrets of its own about the fall of the Old Empire, and why the Gods have retreated from direct intervention. Its secrets would bear investigation, particularly in the presence of many powerful leaders and spellcasters.

  • Politics: High – there will be many factions, each with their own goals. Making friends and enemies will be key to navigating this place.
  • Roleplaying: Medium to High – in this context, roleplaying specifically refers to negotiation, diplomacy, and deception. It’s getting what you want through talking, not fighting.
  • Tactical: Low to Medium – There may well be fighting and tactical situations but they would not be the focus of the game, at least at first. Although bloodthirsty or avaricious creatures may find a single location filled with rich or powerful people very tempting as a target.

Player Buy-In: Your character will need to Have An Opinion about the gods, religion, or politics. The opinion can be positive or negative. There is much here to learn: people and personalities; history, recent or ancient; rumors and lore. Does that sound like a good time to you? If you just want to hit things with sharp or blunt objects until they fall down, you will probably not have any fun here because that will quickly be discouraged by the players involved.

Would that kind of game interest you? I’d love to hear from you.

Weekend Wrapup

General

Winding down for the evening. Don’t have any one thing in particular to write about. Just a handful of topics, things on my mind, tasks I completed and tasks I’ll complete in the coming weeks.

My Kona Smoke 2-9 bike is 16 years old this weekend. I’ve had it a long time and I have put many miles on it. Not so much lately; no, now it sits in my computer room, propped up against a table, its tires flat and its cables and gears loose and unmaintained. I bought it and rode it in the World Naked Bike Ride in 2008, and several years after that. Is that still a thing? For almost two weeks I rode it 26 miles round trip to and from my apartment in Sellwood to my call center job in Fairview, in the middle of the summer, until I was able to buy a cheap car from my cousin. And there were many many pleasant rides up and down the Springwater Corridor Trail, spring, summer, and winter.

It’s a good bike. I should definitely get back on it. They say you never forget how to ride one. That’s what they say.

This weekend I spent mostly doing chores like grocery shopping and laundry, and many hours in The Long Dark. I’m trying to get the final achievement (for me) in the game: suriving 500 days in-game on one save. I’ve done all the story bits one can do, the DLC stuff, I’ve already been to every map, so now I have to make my own goals to keep going. My plan is to stock up regional bases all over the island. That should eat up some time.

Every base will have 100 pounds of meat; 5-10 gallons of water; basic first aid – bandages, antibiotics, disinfectant; one of every kind of tool – knife, hacksaw, hatchet, prybar; matches; some crafting materials for repairs; at least one cooking pot; and some source of Vitamin C to prevent or cure scurvy. Plus whatever else I think of. I can come up with a more detailed list but that’s the basics. I’m doing this all on Voyageur because I am not a masochist. I like the chill vibes of the standard level of difficulty.

I’ve set up a base in Forsaken Airfield at the Hangar, another one at the Train Depot in the Transfer Pass; and one at the Maintenance Shed in Broken Railroad. I’m currently at the Camp Office in Mystery Lake. It’s about day 330? Future bases will be in Milton, Pleasant Valley, Timberwolf Mountain, and Coastal Highway. I’m being sadly efficient and might have to come up with another goal after I’ve done this one because it’s going faster than I expected.

Other fun stuff I did this weekend included plotting for my D&D game. I have a good plan for how to handle the next session but I have no idea where the story is going to go after that. That’s how I like it, though. I don’t plan out long arcs, I just take what the players want to do and set goals and obstacles in front of them. Works well for me.

That’s a good weekend, right? That’s enough? I sure hope so.