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|Tuesday, January 6th, 2015|
|Wraith 20 Kickstarter - Down to the Wire
Normally I hate self promotion. It's a flaw in a writer, I know.
We are down to the wire on the Wraith 20 Kickstarter
. We have achieved marvelous things, and there are a few more in our grasp.
So if you haven't climbed on board yet, now's the time. Help us get those Necropolis writeups in the book and the next big chunk of the Book of Oblivion written. Come see what all the fuss is about. Time, as they say, is running out - we wrap up in under 5 hours.
Come on in. The afterlife's fine.
|Wednesday, December 31st, 2014|
|2014: Your Mileage May Vary
Lots of great times. Had a blast taking Melinda with me to Brazil, speaking at a game conference there and gallumphing around Porto Alegre with old friends and new. Got to meet the mighty Mothman statue. Took a trip down a creative memory lane by starting the wheels turning on Wraith 20, and realized that with 15 years’ new experience, I had a lot to say in that space. Fulfilled a lifelong dream and went to a World Series game, courtesy of dear friend Dustin Clingman. Attended a powerhouse storytelling conference courtesy of Lance Weiler and Christy Dena, and was humbled to be a part of it. Wrote some of the best short stories of my life, got to be part of some high-powered anthologies, and tried my hand at board game design for the first time in ages. Kicked off a super secret project with some highly respected professional peers, once again had the pleasure of running roundtables at GDC, and ran a successful narrative track at ECGC with some incredibly smart folks. Made the annual pilgrimage to the farm, and cooked and drunken Scrabbled with Melinda’s Aunt Dolores. Took my family to the Outer Banks (first time for Mom and Dad), made Staggering Squirrels at NECON, and blogged in interesting places. Bought some interesting art. Continued my flailing participation in a 20+ year old fantasy baseball league, no thanks to guys like Jedd Gyorko, and crossed Nationals Park off my list of “stadiums to see a game in”. Saw friends succeed at numerous creative endeavors in books, in tv, in games, and was happy to see it all. Did cons. Did lectures. Got to look at some incredible pieces of gaming history at the Strong Museum. Got the fluffy cat through an ongoing health crisis and continued to serve the whims of the calico princess. Took my goddaughter fossil hunting in deepest eastern North Carolina, took my dad to ballgames, and saw my wonderful niece and nephew grow up a little more. Got more time with my siblings; got more time with my mom. And of course, had a year of wonderful madcap adventures with Melinda.
Bad stuff happened, too. But we’re not going to talk about it, because that’s not what I choose to take away from 2014. Here’s to the good memories. The hell with the bad ones.
Onward to 2015.
|Thursday, December 25th, 2014|
|On Wraithing Again
"Every time I’m out, they pull me back in."
Actually, not true. I was out for a long time. Out of writing and designing for tabletop games, that is. Sure, I kept writing stuff after I left White Wolf for video games (“You leveled”, the head of another company told me at Origins after I announced I was changing jobs). Kithbook: Redcaps. The intro fiction to Orpheus
. Some Hunter material, some other things. But I wrapped it up with bits in Abyssals
for Exalted and The Book of Changing Breeds
for Werewolf. Those were the goodbyes to the stuff I’d worked on and that I identified with most strongly.
Over the years, I occasionally got asked to contribute to projects. I always said no. No because I’d moved on, no because my sparse-on-the-ground spare time was needed for trying to get my fiction career going, no because it felt like going backwards.
Last year, I got offers I couldn’t refuse. James Wallis, whose work I have the utmost respect (and space in my game closet) for asked me to do a stretch goal piece for a project he was working on. And old friend Rich Thomas asked if I’d be willing to helm the 20th Anniversary Edition of Wraith: The Oblivion
My response to Rich was literally unprintable, but it ended with the word “yes”. Because it was Wraith, and I’d have been kicking myself forever if I’d let someone else do it when I had the chance to do it myself.
Wraith was, after all, where I got my start. My first paid writing was 2 chapters in the Haunts
sourcebook, contracted by original developer Jen Hartshorn. (I overwrote. Some things never change.) I wrote on Wraith for Inphobia. I wrote a big chunk of the Wraith Players’ Guide
, and then I got hired as the developer and moved to Atlanta and got a phone call from Harlan Ellison and became, professionally speaking, who I am.
Because of Wraith.
So really it was no choice at all, despite the fact that I was signing up for a part-time gig doing what used to be my full-time gig on top of my current full-time gig which is frequently a more-than-full-time gig. And yes, it feels weird slipping back into the old role, flexing old muscles that haven’t been used for a long while and melding them with the things i’ve learned in 15 years in pixel-land. At the same time, though, it feels good - good to be doing those things my mental muscles remember, good to be doing them better with the help of all those years of experience. I remarked to a friend tonight that I was running my writing staff like a dev team; I hadn’t realized it until I said it.
Which leaves me roughly where I am, which is to say adrift on a sea of manuscripts, juggling social media stuff for the Kickstarter, coordinating a staff of ridiculously smart and talented writer-types and trying to remember what I was thinking and why I was thinking it all those years ago.
It’s going to be very interesting seeing where it all leads. And I, for one, am looking forward to seeing how I get there. In the meantime, however, I’ve got manuscripts on the grill.
*pours a finger of scotch*
Back to work. See you on the other side.
(And if you feel like checking out the Wraith kickstarter, you can find it here
|Sunday, December 21st, 2014|
|Wraith 20 KS Update
Well, we're just past halfway on the Wraith KS, and here's where we stand:
We're funded! Woohoo! Big thanks to all the Wraith fans out there who are helping us bring the game back. Now it's a question of stretch goals, which we're using to back A)more material for the main book B)a fiction anthology (and wait until you see who I'm lining up for that), and C)additional projects like the Book of Oblivion.
Also, we've added what are being called "Rich Goals", which is a nice way of saying when we hit certain numbers I dig into the memorabilia vault and tell stories about the development of Wraith 2nd and various and sundry other hoary legends of Wraith. You can find the stories - and the Kickstarter - here
So, onward! And more words-ward!
|Tuesday, December 9th, 2014|
|Wraith: The Oblivion 20th Anniversary Edition Kickstarter
is my big personal project for the next few months - a chance to go back to the game I got my professional start with, armed and armored with 20 years of professional gamedev experience, and working with some supremely talented writers both new and old to the setting.
I’m very happy to say we’re past 300% funded and still rising, and that every stretch goal we hit lets us add more. So if you dig horror, or RPGs, or ghosts, or horror RPGs about ghosts, or just want to know what I’m rambling on about these days, check it out.
|Tuesday, December 2nd, 2014|
Most of the blogging I’m going to be doing over the next few months about the Wraith: The Oblivion 20th Anniversary Edition
Kickstarter and Project is going to be either A)over on the KS page as updates or B)on the Onyx Path blog as, well, updates. That’s perfectly cool with me, as it’s an OP project and they therefore have dibs.
But before the Kickstarter launches on Tuesday, I did want to ruminate on the project for a little bit. Wraith was the First Big Thing that I ever did in gaming. I was hired by Jennifer Hartshorn to do two chapters in the Haunts sourcebook back in the day, and that was my first paying, professional work. Most of it was actually written in the basement of a church in suburban Boston, where I was proctoring fake SAT tests for the Princeton Review and cramming myself and high school juniors into chairs designed for third graders, but that story’s been told a million times. After that, I did some work on the Wraith Players’ Guide, and an article for Inphobia on keeping your party together in Wraith games, and then I got contracted for Artificers
and did a bunch of stuff on Changeling and got pulled in last minute to write the back end of Toybox
Whew. It was a long time ago, and if you draw a straight line from then to now it runs right through the middle of a big patch marked “Insomnia”. But I will say this: I have always been incredibly proud of the work that went into Wraith, both my own and those of the many people I collaborated with. I was very sad to see it get shut down back in the day, though I appreciate White Wolf’s choosing to let me wrap the line up neatly with Ends of Empire
instead of just putting on the brakes. I’m pleased and excited to be climbing back onto that (bony, skeletal, undead) horse again, and I confess to having let “so what would you do differently?” rattle around in my brain for the last fifteen years or so.
And I am of course really excited to be working with many of the classic Wraith writers from the old days. And I know, that sounds pollyanna as hell, but it really is fun bouncing ideas off them again, seeing their prose (and how much it’s improved in the last fifteen years - don’t tell them I said that), and just generally swimming in the same pond with kindred spirits. There is something to be said for getting the band back together. Hell, just having an excuse to pick up the phone and call Clayton Oliver makes me happy. The fact that the conversation largely consists of “You’re doing great stuff, now add these additional bits” is icing on the cake.
I will be talking a lot more about the project over the next few weeks. I will be singing the praises of the new folks on the project, writers who haven’t worked on Wraith before and who are hitting the ground running. I will be talking about what we’re changing from the old edition and what we’re keeping and why I am cheerfully spitting in the legendary Wraith Curse’s eye on this one.
And right now I’m already neck-deep in manuscript redlines, turning around various chapters to various writers with various suggestions. Though to be fair, I appear to have gotten kinder and gentler over the years. Bruce Baugh wanted to know who I was and what I’d done with the real Rich Dansky; apparently the memory of the time I told a freelancer that he’d written me a lovely Wings Hauser movie but now I needed some game material still lingers. The rust, though, is coming off. The old muscles are being flexed. The red pen is my non-crosspieced lightsaber, and I wield it with Jedi-like precision.
But I’ll talk about all that later. Right now all I have to say is that it’s good to be back.
|Sunday, November 30th, 2014|
|Things I Think About The New Star Wars Teaser Trailer
- It is definitely a teaser, which, by definition means “largely content free”. And that’s fine. I’m more than a little done with the modern trend whereby you get roughly 2/3 of a given movie’s footage from the various trailers and teasers long before it actually comes out.
- It was fun seeing X-Wings and the Millennium Falcon again.
- I am glad that many people seem excited about the teaser and are having fun with it.
- I would very much like to see a fun new Star Wars movie, as the Star Wars universe leaves behind most of what makes it unique and fun when it goes for some combination of grimdark, political, or overtly kid-friendly.
- I do not have a major emotional investment in the new Star Wars movie except as something I hope will be a couple of hours of enjoyable entertainment.
- I feel sorry for the people who have already decided that they will not enjoy the movie based on approximately 30 seconds of rough footage.
- I think getting preemptively upset over how the proposed details of a weird-looking lightsaber glimpsed for approximately 5 seconds will ruin the movie may be putting the sandcrawler before the bantha.
- I do not dispute anyone’s right to not enjoy the trailer or not look forward to the movie. I do dispute endless attempts to ruin other people’s enjoyment as a means of reaffirming one’s own tastes.
- They say there is a desert planet that is not Tatooine. I am forced to ask whether it is Arrakis.
- Stormtrooper armor looks very hot. This is probably not a good thing on a desert planet.
- John Boyega was very good in Attack the Block. I expect he will be very good in Star Wars.
- Disney has officially thrown out the Star Wars EU canon. Therefore, please do not quote the Star Wars EU canon to “prove” why John Boyega shouldn’t play an imperial stormtrooper or why a weird lightsaber with cross hilts can or can’t exist, because it’s irrelevant.
- There will probably be lens flare in the movie. It is OK to make fun of lens flare, as J.J. Abrams is to lens flare as Michael Bay is to explosions or Tim Burton is to letting Johnny Depp get weird haircuts. Making fun of JJ’s lens flare obsession is our way of telling him we still love him.
- "There has been an awakening" is exactly the sort of dialog we make fun of M. Night Shyamalan for. But that’s OK. It’s a teaser. It’s not the movie.
- If you insist on being “right” about what the teaser means, you’re probably missing the point.
|Saturday, November 8th, 2014|
Very pleased and proud to be giving a keynote at SBGames 2014
. I'll be talking about The Writers' Journey, or at least my version of it, which included stops in Boston, Atlanta, and a giant pile of dice.
|Thursday, November 6th, 2014|
|Ruminations on Trick-or-Treating
There are a lot of reasons I like trick-or-treating (besides the leftover candy, you heathens), but the biggest one is this:
It’s a reason to talk to your neighbors.
Once a year, you’re guaranteed to have folks from all over your neighborhood - in theory, at least - knocking on your door, saying hello, and generally being pleasant. And the people having their doors knocked on are also being pleasant, and saying hello, and participating in an honorable social contract within the community: if I leave my light on (my part of the deal) and you wear a costume (your part of the deal), I give you something nice.
[Side note: all that nonsense about razor blades in apples is exactly that. I wouldn’t be surprised if it were started by the people making fun sized candies of various persuasions in order to get us to buy more bags of tiny Butterfingers that are mostly wrapper. “Fun sized”, my ass.]
And implied in that was that you talked to all your neighbors. You didn’t knock on some doors and not on others because of politics or what church someone belonged to or whatever. You went, neighbor to neighbor, in a simple, human interaction.
Now, of course, trick-or-treating is on a downturn. In too many places, it’s being replaced by “Trunk or treating” or mall treating or whatever. And yes, I can see the benefits of limiting this to a controlled time and space, and not gambling against the extremely minuscule chance that one of your neighbors will, when asked for candy, instead respond with a chainsaw.
But I still think it’s a bad idea. Mall treating just reinforces consumer behavior - go store to store and get stuff. Trunk or treating is generally done within the bounds of an existing social group - a church or a school, for example - so there’s no reaching out, no getting to know your neighbors, no meeting the new.
Yes, I know, not every neighborhood’s great (or viable, or safe) for trick-or-treating. Not every neighbor wants to be reached out to, and there are a myriad of reasons to do something controlled and scheduled and above all, safe. But it feels sad that our neighbors don’t feel safe, that our neighborhoods don’t feel worth connecting with, that we can’t take as long as we need to make the circuit of the neighborhood and that at the same time as so many kids are trick-or-treating at the mall, so many people are shutting their lights off and hanging “no trick or treating” signs on their doors lest their evenings be disturbed by occasional friendly interruption.
We will, of course, keep the jack-o-lantern flame burning as long as we keep getting knocks on the door. But it’s always a little disappointing when this year’s knocks are fewer than last years, and last year’s were fewer than the year before’s. And in the back of my head I think of Ray Bradbury’s short story “Pillar of Fire”, wherein the last dead man on earth tries to reinvent Halloween and all its frights all by his lonesome in a world that’s gotten over being scared of the dark.
|Friday, October 31st, 2014|
|Why I Write Horror: A Rumination
It’s Halloween, and I’m more-or-less a horror writer, which means that ‘tis the season I get questions like “What horror novels should I read?” (Answer: Mine, of course) and “What’s the scariest thing you’ve ever read?” (Besides a royalty statement?) and, of course, “Why do you write this stuff?”
The “Why do you write this stuff” is the one I’ve been getting the longest, it part because it’s one my mother keeps asking. She wants to know, not unreasonably, when I’m going to write something a little bit nicer, and she often points to the fairy tale intro I wrote for Changeling 2nd Edition as proof I could maybe branch out into something with a lower body count once in a while. And that’s true, but I keep coming back to horror, and I suppose it’s worth noodling around a bit as to why. In no particular order:
I write horror because this stuff made a hell of an impression on me when I was a kid. To a six year old me, the story on the side of the 7-11 Slurpee Monster Cup for zombies was scary as all get-out. I used to lay awake at night debating whether to leave the door to my bedroom open (so the light from the nightlight in the hallway could come in) or closed (so if the zombies came up the stairs, I wouldn’t have to see them coming). By 4th grade, I’d been introduced to Ray Bradbury, most notably stories like “The Halloween Tree” and “Pillar of Fire”, and the simultaneous terror and fascination was locked firmly in place. My thesis was on Lovecraft; my first two published papers were on HPL and Charles Robert Maturin, respectively. In short, it’s been a part of me for a very long time.
I write horror because it’s interesting. What scares folks - the outward manifestations of inward fears, as Ambrose Bierce put it - is really meaty material to chew on. Know what terrifies a character and you know something about that character. Know why that terrifies them and you know the character entire.
I write horror, not because I’m interested in writing critters or spattering bodily fluids on walls, but because it’s possible to write the scary stuff without resorting to fangs in neck or blood on walls. Some of the most enduring pieces in the horror canon (such as it is) offer neither beasts nor blood, but manage to chill the reader just the same. That level of skill and craft is what I aspire to.
I write horror because I’ve spent good chunks of my life scared - scared of getting beaten up on the playground, scared of failing, scared of not living up to expectations, scared of all sorts of things. And while those fears may not be much in the grand scheme of things to be afraid of in this life, they’ve been with me all my life, and writing the spooky stuff is how I finally figured out to take them on.
I write horror because I was told I couldn’t or shouldn’t. Because the stories I submitted to Annie Dillard’s writing class at Wesleyan came back with the words “We have nothing to say to each other” on them. Because bringing along Dan Simmons’ “Carrion Comfort” as my subway reading material on orientation day at my MA program got me instantly labeled as the Not Actually Serious About Books Guy. And yeah, maybe twenty-plus years on I should be letting that stuff go, but old embers can still burn hot.
And finally, I write horror because I’m good at it. Those are the stories that come naturally to me - the small child making a bargain with unseen powers as he plays at the beach, the impossible thing in the man-made lake, the slumbering power underneath placid suburban real estate - these are the things that call out to me when I sit down to write. These are the things whose stories I know how to tell instinctively. These are the things I can wrestle best with in words, and I’m OK with that.
|Sunday, October 26th, 2014|
|The Three Stages of Adulthood
As near as I can tell, there are three stages of adulthood:
Stage one is when you decide that you are too grown up to eat horrible sugared cereals with marshmallows in them, even if you have lived your whole life loving Booberry with an unreasonable passion. Being grown up means putting away childish things because you are, well. grown up. And so when Halloween season comes around and the familiar boxes reappear on the shelves, you say, “No, no, I’ve outgrown it. I’m an adult now.”
Stage two is when you realize that you are in fact an adult and that means that you can do any damn thing you want, including slamming down whole boxfuls of sugary cereals that are dyed a color blue that does not exist in nature, or, alternately, pouring them out so you can pick out the marshmallows. As an adult, you have the right to do foolish or childish things because that’s your decision to make, and you’re making it right now. Anyone who calls it immature simply doesn’t understand that you’ve grown beyond simple labels like that, and have become more comfortable with who the adult version of you is. The fact that adult you like Booberry is just another facet of who you are, and that’s just fine.
And stage three is where you realize that you are perfectly within your rights as an adult to eat a box of Booberry every year when they release it again, but for the love of God there’s absolutely no reason you should because that stuff is terrible.
As of this year, I have achieved stage three.
If there’s a stage four, I don’t want to know about it.
|Tuesday, October 7th, 2014|
|A few thoughts - A Most Wanted Man
The opening shot of A Most Wanted Man
is of water. It’s a simple shot of water sloshing up against a seawall, then sloshing slightly higher as a boat’s wake rolls past. It is, in a word, fluid. Then, a man pulls himself up out of the water and up a ladder, onto dry land. He’s soaking wet and anonymous; he does not speak. At this point, he, too, is completely fluid.
As the movie progresses, we learn more about this man. His name is Issa. He is half Chechen and half Russian. He was jailed and tortured. He is indeed a wanted man, and he is many other things.
And as the movie progresses, the shots we see change. The early ones are full of the images of liquid. Every establishing shot shows water in the background. We get shots of whiskey glasses, of coffee, of tea. The fluidity is there in the imagery. But as we move along, those shots go away. They’re replaced by rigid images - brushed steel and chrome, dry land and building guts. The coffee cups get covered up. Things are settling into a single pattern. The future is increasingly less fluid.
And eventually, Issa is defined - for the people who want to use him, and for us, the audience. He is what he is. His possibilities have been whittled down to a single one. He is no longer fluid.
Which is where the story ends.
But there’s another guy in the movie. He’s a spy, played by Phillip Seymour Hoffman in his last role, and he’s also caught up in the narrowing of focus, the loss of possibility. It’s a brilliant performance, with Hoffman shambling through the film like an aging, wounded bear, underestimated but still dangerous. Of course, Hoffman’s character is the one drawing the threads of possibility closed. He’s got an endgame in mind, and he relentlessly cuts off every other character’s other options until there’s only one way things can possibly play out. But he’s caught in it, too, as trapped as any of the people he’s been manipulating “to make the world a safer place” all along.
And when the final step is taken, when the endgame goes horribly wrong, then we realize that Hoffman’s character’s story parallels Issa’s. That in thinking he was master of his own destiny, he was led to a place where there was only one way things could end, and it was not the one he imagined. That like Issa, he had retreated from a bloody past in hopes of perhaps drawing some good out of evil, and that he was encouraged to think this was a possibility in order to serve the ends of others.
I’ve seen reviewers call this a “minor” film, but I don’t think that’s quite right. It’s a minor key film, where the stakes are high in human terms but the plot is distinctly lacking in showpiece explosions. Everything is understated - conversations and plots, interrogations and chases. There are maybe half a dozen moments of physical violence in the film, and no blood. And that’s fine. Explosions and blood would have made this about the moment of conflict and the adrenaline rush of the race for survival. What A Most Wanted Man
touches on instead is the bigger game, and the notion that big things are made from small actions, combined and conjoined in myriad ways.
There’s one moment in the middle of the film, unrecognizable when it happens, when Hoffman’s character is offered a way out of what’s coming. It’s an admission from his American contact that it was her people who blew his op in Beirut, who got his people killed, who got him demoted to Hamburg. It’s a suggestion that she shouldn’t be trusted, and that he should walk away while he still has the chance.
He doesn’t walk away, doesn’t even realize what he’s being offered. And so everyone’s fate is sealed, in minor gestures that have major consequences.
If you’re getting the impression that it’s not a cheerful film, you’re absolutely correct. To watch A Most Wanted Man
is to watch a failure of hope, to see good intentions and a desire to lessen bloodshed cynically used for the benefit of the ambitious and uninformed, to observe old failures repeated in a way that will recreate old problems. It is, in its own quiet way, vastly pessimistic in a way that shouts “it doesn’t have to be this way”. And as such, it’s worth seeing, and listening to.
|Saturday, September 20th, 2014|
|On the Loot That Is Character
So here’s the great thing about the Telltale story-driven games.
It’s not that they’re “GREAT STORIES”, though they are in fact excellent examples of the storyteller’s art, showing keen understanding of their respective properties (Walking Dead and Fables, respectively, for those of you yahoos who haven’t played them yet, and if you haven’t, what are you waiting for). There have been, much to the surprise of many, quite a few excellent stories in games over the years. No, that’s not what makes these two, Walking Dead and Wolf Among Us, stand out.
It’s because Telltale figured out a mechanic - a mechanic! Yes! A game mechanic as a storytelling tool in a game! - to make you care about the characters in the game world.
And how do they do that? By stripping away all of the “game” elements of the game until those character are all that’s left. You don’t level in The Wolf Among Us. You don’t collect loot. You don’t get XP or better armor or a +3 sword of fable-smiting. In fact, they have taken absolutely everything that you normally use to keep track of your progress and advancement in a game and stripped it out.
The only thing that’s left? Character. More specifically, your relationships with the other characters in the world. There is, quite literally, nothing else to hold on to.
And that is, by and large, the mechanical function of those characters in the design as well. They’re not quest givers. They’re not there to give you combos or unlock skill trees or shoot bad guys or do anything mechanical for you. They are there to be a part of the world, the only part of the world that matters from moment to moment.
It’s a remarkable achievement, and an elegant one. To make characters mean more, give the player less. Bravo.
|Sunday, September 14th, 2014|
|The Pro Con Goer
So I went to PAX.
Not because I wanted to GO TO PAX. I mean, I’ve seen show floors before. Lots of them, many of them more conducive to keeping my hearing intact that the Vegas-like carnival that flourishes inside the Washington State Convention Center.
And not because I wanted to “do business”, whatever that means, for someone in my position. (Seriously, I have no idea. Suggestions are welcome.) I did have one panel, moderated and organized by the estimable Chris Tihor, that I was a part of. But that was literally my only formal commitment while I was out there. I didn’t talk to any media or take any meetings. I did show off some of the cards for Squatches and Scotches, the card game I’ve been working on, but that was really more in the interest of getting ego gratification for the incredibly funny things I’ve written as card text, and less about actually flogging the game per se.
And I certainly didn’t go to PAX for the frequent flier miles. As a matter of fact, I kind of botched my travel roll - a first for me in ages - and booked myself into a hotel in Bellvue when I thought I was booking a place near SeaTac and light rail. On the bright side, this allowed me to make new friends out of numerous Lyft and cab drivers in the greater Seattle area, but Lordy, new friends get expensive if you have to keep on making them a half hour ride at a time.
No, I went to PAX - and really, this is why I go to most conferences, conventions, kaffeklatches, gatherings of the tribe and so forth - to see people. To talk to people. To immerse myself in a pool of very smart people whom I think very highly of, so we can talk of things various and sundry. About writing, about games, about scotch, about ACC football (if it comes to that, which it occasionally does), about what we’re working on and what we’re not working on and what we want to be working on.
Why? Why fly cross-country and subject myself to an Au Bon Pain in DFW at 5 in the morning, just for the odd bits of conversation?
Because that stuff is what’s really important. It recharges my batteries. It stimulates new ideas. It gives me new ways to tackle existing problems. It feeds new data into the system, which is exactly what I need to be re-energized and get back into the word mines with a jaunty tilt to my cap.
And hopefully, talking to me helps do the same thing for the folks I talk with. Or at least provides them with a good laugh or two.
I joke, but I’m also quite serious. Getting out of headspace inhabited solely by me or the few people I interact with on a daily basis is a good thing. Filling that headspace, even if it’s just for a couple of days, with other folks is both a genuine pleasure and good for the Muse, who gets cranky if left to endlessly peruse the old magazines in the waiting room of my mind.
So young’uns, take heed - there’s much to be said for getting out there and talking with smart people to make you better at what you do. It’s a worthwhile investment of time, of money, and of energy, and it would be if all you got out of it was the chance to spend time with people whose company you genuinely enjoy. Throw in the added benefit that it makes you better at what you do, and, well, it looks more appealing all the time.
So, to all the smart and generous folks I had the good fortune to hang out with at PAX, I say “thank you”. Not just for the pleasure of your company, which is considerable, but for the energy and inspiration you provide. And to those of you who don’t think you need to mingle with your professional peers now and again, well, it might be worth reconsidering.
|Tuesday, August 19th, 2014|
|On the Priority of Falling Rocks From Space
Got home the other night well after 11, after the local gamedev drink-up at an Irish-ish pub in downtown Raleigh. When I reached the front door, I remembered that this week was the Perseid meteor shower. Tuesday was supposed to be peak activity, which turned out to be not such a good thing, schedule-wise; Tuesday night here could best be described as “ark building weather”. Thick cloud cover, torrential rain and the omnipresent chance of being flash-fried by a couple of zillion volts makes for a poor meteor shower viewing experience.
Tonight, though, was clear. And it was late and it was quiet and it was reasonably dark, except for the street corner light and the neighbors’ outdoor light and our porch light, which had been left on so I wouldn’t have to try to figure out in pitch blackness which of the 84 keys I carry was the the right one for the front door.
Best viewing conditions would be, of course, out in the country. Up by Falls Lake, maybe. Away from the city. Not on my front lawn, with porch light and neighbor light and street light.
I went to go inside, thinking “there’s going to be another one.” Or maybe I was thinking “I’ll catch them next year.”
And without realizing it, I said to myself, “How many more of these things are you going to get a chance to see?” Not because there’s anything wrong, or I’m in imminent danger, or I’m feeling the weight of my creeping middle age particularly heavily tonight. It was just a thought about how taking that sort of thing for granted - assuming that the thing you skipped out on today will always be waiting when you want it tomorrow - doesn’t always pay off.
I tried taking my nephew and his friend out watching for meteors earlier in the summer. We set up too early and saw bupkis. Opportunity, gone.
But it was late, and I was tired, and tomorrow’s a school day, metaphorically speaking. I went up onto the front porch, Opened the door.
Thought about it for a second, then reached in and turned off the porch light. Turned around, marched myself back onto the lawn, and held up a hand and an iPad respectively, to block out the neighbor’s light and the streetlight.
Easy enough to just dust that off with a “Cool story, bro” or whatever, and move on. It’s another “stop and smell the roses” thing, right? Of course it is.
I looked up. I waited. And a minute later, I saw a meteor.
Just one. This wasn’t a precursor to Day of the Triffids, after all, with the sky on fire with a million bits of cosmic leftover raining down in fire and light. It was the waning evening of a trip through old cometary incontinence, left behind for us to swing through and ooh and ah about. One bit of dust that hit the atmosphere and took a short trip and flamed out.
I looked around. Nobody else was out there. On my block, at least, that moment and that vision were all mine.
Which was enough. I waited another minute, then inside and shut the door.
Except it isn’t.
Because, aging nerd that I am, I’ve always wanted to see meteor showers. They are, in a sense, important. they have a priority.
The problem being, that priority was always lower than the priority of something else I was doing at the time. It’s always a different something else, but each instance is higher priority at that given moment.
Which is how, if you look at it in the long view, “lower priority” becomes “no priority”. And “no priority” means “it never gets done, ever.”
I have a comic book spec script I’m working on now. It’s a project I’m excited about. But because it’s a spec project, it slots in behind Story X for Anthology Y or Game Project Z or Book Review Omicron, any of which may have a greater urgency at a given moment, but none of which are such high priority that they’ve got the heft to consign another project to the dustbin permanently.
But that’s the practical effect. (Note: this sort of thing applies at work, too. Check your task lists for the stuff that’s been lurking at the bottom for weeks or months or years. It’s never the most important thing, which is why it never gets done - until suddenly it’s the thing that needed to be done ages ago and ohcrap) And the end result of that practical effect is things left undone and regretted because of the always-excusable strict hierarchy of priorities. There’s no individual element of that decision-making that can be critiqued, because any given item, when weighed against the spec project, carries more heft. It’s only when things are seen in toto that the cost becomes apparent.
Which is why it is occasionally worth it to reprioritize based on on the long view, and not the short. To temporarily assign artificially high value to a particular project to keep it from forever defaulting to no value. And to, just maybe, trade a minute at the keyboard for a minute looking at shooting stars.
|Wednesday, August 13th, 2014|
|A Small Note On Depression
There are many better voices than mine to discuss what depression really is, how being rich or famous or good-looking is not an automatic counter to its ravages, and how it is a disease and not something that can be easily overcome simply through “sucking it up” (whatever that means).
That being said, I’d like to politely suggest that everyone who does think that wealth or fame counters depression, or that it is something that can be easily overcome with enough Arizona Diamondbacks-style grittiness check out some of these resources, leave their preconceptions at the door, and maybe put themselves in a better position to help the people in their own lives who are suffering from depression.
Because if your attitude is that those suffering from depression are weak, or have no willpower, or are lazy, then you are just making it that much harder for the ones you care about who are dealing with this to come forward, to get help, and to try to find a way to get better. You are, in other words, making things worse for people you know and love.
Don’t be part of the problem. Because there are people in your life wrestling with this, even if you don’t know it. And being stubborn or uninformed or disdainful towards the problem makes pushes in exactly the wrong direction.
|Sunday, August 10th, 2014|
|On the White Wolf Writer Factory
Robert Rath over at The Escapist does a lovely job of looking at how The Wolf bred writers, calling out Chuck Wendig, Mur Lafferty and myself, among others. There are oodles more - Dawn Metcalf, Tracy Rysavy-Fernandez, Lucien Soulban and many other scribbly types did work for WW back in the day - but I think it's a really well-written piece.Check it out
|Sunday, August 3rd, 2014|
|Things I Think I Think About Guardians of the Galaxy
- It was a wonderfully enjoyable movie. I laughed in all the right places, I sniffled in all the right places, and generally had a great time. No complaints.
- For something that is explicitly sold as a wacky good time in space, the film sure is violent and, on occasion, foul-mouthed. The commercials - and the 17 minutes of preview footage screened for fans a month ago - really de-emphasized how brutal many of the fight scenes are. There are stabbings. There is attempted murder. There are impalings. There are stabbings and explosions and various other unpleasant ways to go out inflicted on various characters, some of whom even have speaking parts. Not that I’m going all Hayes Code or anything here, but if you’re bringing your kids expecting nothing but cute talking trees and raccoons, you might want to adjust those expectations.
- Spiritually, this splits the difference between the ongoing Marvel films, which do an excellent job of mainstreaming obscure nerd properties with machinelike efficiency, and the mid-80s action comedies like Big Trouble in Little China or Buckaroo Banzai. It’s winkingly self-aware of the genre conventions it’s sending up, recognizing that they’re shared vocabulary that lets the film do something different. At the same time, the film is composed with mechanical, relentless precision. Every character gets their one moment of pathos, the climactic showdown plays out beat-for-beat like innumerable other action films, and there’s plenty of sly toy commercials built into the film. But that’s OK, because the craftsmanship of the film is so damn good.
- Vin Diesel really is Groot. This may be the defining performance of his career.
- I want some of the space technology that preserves audiocassettes, AA batteries, and earphone foam for multiple decades. Seriously. I’m not nitpicking. I’ve got a couple of aging cassettes that are shedding iron oxide faster than Donald Trump ditches creditors and if space technology is what it takes to save those suckers, I want it now.
- Director/cowriter James Gunn does an impressive job of shoehorning a ridiculous amount of exposition about the Marvel Universe into the movie without turning it into Adam Warlock Studies 101. Those who are paying attention can squee to themselves over the nice little detail touches that get worked in; those who don’t care or who don’t realize that all this infodump is the setup for about six other movies can simply relax because the only bit’s that actually pertinent is “blue guy in a hoodie wants to blow up the planet.” Everything else? Details.
- Complaining about the post-credits scene is self-entitled nonsense. What we get is perfectly in keeping with the spirit of the film and a nice nod to a bit of Marvel’s history. No, it’s not splodey or ominous or plot-relevant; it’s fun. Talking yourself into thinking that it was going to be Ultron jello-wrestling Thanos while Nathan Fillion and the cast of Firefly cheer them on might have been fun forum fodder, but Marvel and James Gunn are under no obligation to match the fantasies you spun out of whole cloth. And besides, complaining about how the free stuff you just got is the wrong free stuff always kind of makes you look like a jerkface.
- Whoever decided that Benicio Del Toro’s version of The Collector would look like someone trying to cosplay the abominable snowman from the old Rankin Bass Christmas specials may want to have others check their work on future character redesigns.
- Part of me will always wonder how different a movie this would have been in StarLord’s mom had liked Yes, Pink Floyd and Jethro Tull instead of early 70s cheese rock.
- Did I mention I really enjoyed the movie? ‘Cause I did.
|Saturday, August 2nd, 2014|
|Interview - Marianne Krawczyk
I've posted an interview I did with the estimable and ridiculously talent Marianne Krawczyk (God of War
, The Long Dark
) up at my blog on Gamasutra, in which we discuss Aeschylus, the possibility of Kratos getting into a bar fight, and Sweet Valley High in space. Check it out here
|Sunday, July 27th, 2014|
|I Don't Like The New Suicide Squad, And That's OK
I read the first collection of the New 52’s version of Suicide Squad today. to be honest, I didn’t like it. It seemed needlessly brutal, wallowing in unnecessary character death and having the members of the Squad kill relentlessly in such quantity that after a few pages, the deaths stopped registering. Adding a hard edge to the notion of super villains working off their sentences on top-secret missions makes sense; the endless scenes of cannibal Hulk-wannabe King Shark chowing down on whoever’s in reach is cartoonish.
I confess, I was a big fan of John Ostrander’s run on the series. It tackled some of the same moral dilemmas the new series seems to want to take on, and it blew away the occasional team member as needed to make an impact, but it was never less than aware of the level of its violence. The new series, on the other hand, goes for a wannabe cool nihilism, camouflaging the ever-increasing body count Deadshot’s racking up under the blanket of “badass efficiency”. These are supposed to be character moments for Deadshot, you see, not just kills.
After a while, the camo starts looking mighty thin.
That being said, the last thing DC should do is listen to my grumping and backpedal to the way things were. Why? Because the last time I bought a Suicide Squad issue, it was two decades ago, give or take. I’m not the target audience anymore, and I’m not the guy the new book is intended to appeal to. I may not like the new direction, but it’s not like they’re going to lose a customer by pissing me off. And at five bucks a new issue, odds were pretty good that even if I liked the new stuff, I wasn’t going to be setting up a pull list at my Friendly Local Comic Shop.
Besides, the Ostrander issues aren’t going anywhere. I can still read them if I want and I feel like digging through my long boxes (now repurposed as a cat perch). The sort of Suicide Squad story I want is still available to me, even if it isn’t a new Suicide Squad.
But to expect a comics company to be governed by the nostalgia of those of us who haven’t actually been their customers in a very long time is to sit in a metaphorical rocking chair on the porch, shaking a metaphorical cane at those darn kids and their rock-and-roll musics. This goes whether we’re talking about Suicide Squad (did I mention that I hate that they’ve reimagined Amanda Waller to be skinny and young. Come on, can’t we have one character in comics who looks like they’ve eaten a slice of pie in their life?) or Thor fans who haven’t picked up an issue since the Walt Simonson days yelling on Twitter about the character’s gender swapping, or really anyone who doesn’t understand why comics can’t be exactly the way they were in the halcyon days of their youth.
To which all I can say is “Let it go”. The Ostrander Suicide Squad isn’t comic back, and even if he were put back on the book it wouldn’t be the same one I’d fallen in love with two decades ago. Those comics are our high school crushes; in memory they stay the same forever, but in real life they’re live in Des Moines, have two kids, and may have recently learned what words like “diverticulitis” and “heart palpitations” mean. To expect them to stay as perpetually dewy-eyed and young as our mental image of them is cruel and unrealistic, and leads to awkward conversations at high school reunions.
So shut up and let the new creators do new things. If you like those new things, hop on board. If you don’t, try to sound less like Abe Simpson when you criticize. But always remember, nobody’s writing for twenty-years-ago-you any more, nor should they have to. To think otherwise is to be as cranky and entitled as, well, as the guys who were clogging up USENet back in 1989 kvetching about how they should put Captain Marvel back in his old Kree uniform and what Batman really needed to be good was more of the good old BIFF-POW-BOOM.
I don’t want to be that guy. At least, not the noisy version of that guy. And neither should you.