The small size of the attackers had not been due to mere distance; the bandits were of a tribe of Halfling nomads that roamed the deserts, and who rarely entered the cities of men. Tales had been told of these savages in many of the caravans that Sahm had escorted, but until that day he had not seen them in the flesh. They road their desert ponies with a deftness and skill that made Sahm's trained horsemanship seem clumsy by comparison, and the taught strings of their bows sang like crickets in the dawn as they loosed shaft after shaft at the fleeing caravan. Their nut brown skins were covered by sand-colored desert robes, cinched at the waist by black silk sashes.
"They file their teeth to points," Sahm had been told by a merchant who had purportedly been the only survivor of a Halfling raid. "They take anyone that they don't kill into the deep desert and feast upon the marrow in their bones. They feed whatever remains to their blood-hungry ponies, and use the sinew from their victims to string their bows. If ever you should face them, run and hide! Or, best yet, play dead! There is no hope for you otherwise."
Sahm had considered what the man had said, and had ultimately rejected it as a fanciful tale. Now, riding low with his bow in one hand and Asianne's reins in the other, he wasn't so sure. Qadil was two lengths ahead of him, his sword drawn and his robes fluttering behind him. The old man could fight, Sahm knew, but would this foe be too much for him?
Three of the Halfling ponies broke off from the attacking force and headed towards Qadil and Sahm. There was a piercing war cry from the tiny warriors that sounded eerily like an eagle's shriek. At fifty yards distance, two of them rose in their saddles, raised their bows, and fired arrows. Sahm jinked Asianne to the left as one of the arrows sailed by. He rose up in his own saddle, aimed at the oncoming riders, and fired back. Too high, the arrow flew well past the Halflings and shattered against the stone-like ground.
The remaining Halfling was armed not with a bow, but with a lance. It was obvious that he and Qadil were headed for one another, and naught but the gods could alter their course. At the last moment, the Halfling lowered his lance, plunging it into Qadil's horse, as the old man's saber cut through the air above the raider's head. The haft of the lance snapped audibly, and Qadil's horse stumbled and fell, raising a plume of dust high into the air. The old man rolled several yards, limp and apparently dead, leaving Sahm to confront the Halflings on his own.
As the three ponies passed Qadil's limp form at a gallop, Sahm brought his own horse to a sudden stop. With a graceful leap, he dismounted, smacking Asianne upon her rump, and sending her galloping towards the caravan alone. He could hear the Halflings turning about behind him, their bow strings twanging. A small arrow flew through his billowing robes before skittering upon the ground nearby. Sahm ran to the only cover he could see, Qadil's dying horse. The animal's breath came in pained gasps, and its blood fueled the thirsty ground beneath it.
Another small arrow whistled towards him, thunking into the belly of the dying animal. Its agony was such that it didn't seem to notice this new pain. Sahm, crouching behind the horse's bulk raised his bow in the direction of the Halflings and let fly an arrow. This time, his aim was unencumbered by Asianne's motion, and the shaft hit one of the Halfling archers in his chest. The little man cried out in pain and surprise, and he fell from his saddle onto the ground. His pony, now without a master, veered off and slowed to a trot, even as the remaining two increased their pace towards Sahm.
He had time enough for one last shot before they were upon him. Sahm drew another arrow and fired his bow at the remaining archer. The distance was short, perhaps thirty yards, and he could see the raider's eyes widen with shock as the arrow punched through his neck, spraying crimson blood into the air behind him. The Halfling dropped his own bow and brought his horse to a halt before sliding out of his saddle and onto the rocky ground. The Halfling who had killed Qadil's horse (as well as Qadil, or so it seemed, for he remained motionless in the dirt several yards away), rode his pony straight for Sahm. He had discarded his broken lance in favor of a small black scimitar, the edge of which glinted brightly in the rising sunlight. Sahm ducked as the Halfling's pony leapt over the horse's corpse. He heard the sound of the bandit's blade slicing through the air above his head, just before the desert pony hit the ground behind him and continued onward.
Sahm turned to follow the enemy with his gaze, his hands already drawing and loading another arrow into his bow reflexively. He drew the bowstring back, adjusted his aim, and fired. Like the two arrows before it, this one struck home, lodging itself in the Halfling's turned back. The small black scimitar flew from his grasp, even as he slumped in his saddle. The pony continued onward, oblivious to the fact that its rider was dead.
Qadil was bloody and bruised, but otherwise alive. A wide gash had been opened across his forehead, and blood had washed into his eyes. "Sahir?" Sahm ventured, reaching out a hand to roll his friend over.
Coughing, Qadil allowed Sahm to roll him onto his back. He opened his blood-filled eyes, then blinked them rapidly to try and clear his sight. "Did I get him?" he asked, a wry smile on his lips.
"You took his head clean off, sahir," Sahm lied, his hands deftly checking Qadil's limbs for broken bones. "I fear that he took your horse in payment."
"Better my horse than myself." Qadil sat up painfully. "What of the rest?"
"Dead, but for the half-dozen that swarm about the caravan." Sahm looked over Qadil's shoulder at the wagons. They were beset with raiders from all sides, and shouts and war cries echoed across the shallow valley.
Qadil used his hand to wipe the blood from his face, wincing at the pain when he discovered that his palms had been torn by his impact with the rocky ground. "Bring me my blade, Sahm," he instructed, "then go along without me and do what you can to save the wagons. Without that cargo, we aren't liable to be paid."
Sahm stood and fetched Qadil's saber from the dirt nearby, patting the old man on the shoulder. "Will you be well, sahir?" he asked.
"Yes, yes, of course," Qadil said, waving his hand dismissively. "Get moving! I'll join you when I'm able."
Sahm began to run towards the wagons, his breath burning in his lungs. Running wasn't something he often did, seeing as Asianne had always been there for him on these long ventures into the wilderness. His boots weren't made for it, and he stumbled several times on the rough, rocky, uneven ground. Somehow, he managed to avoid sprawling over the stony earth. The screams of the wounded and dying, paired with the sounds of his own panting, were all that he could hear.
05 February 2007
31 January 2007
Intermission
I was planning to continue the fiction non-stop over the next few days, without boorish distractions from Real Life (tm). However, I have to post today.
Molly Ivins is dead.
Now, I'm probably more of a conservative liberal than anything else. I rarely talk politics here, mostly because I'm not really into arguing. I think that freely expressing our opinions is one of the greatest boons of living in the United States, and anything that threatens freedom of speech is a cause for concern.
It's not like I knew Molly Ivins, except through her editorials. I started reading her Creator's Syndicate column regularly about a year or two ago. I may not have agreed with everything she wrote (albeit, I did agree with most of it), but she was funny and insightful and scathing. It was love at first read. On more than a couple of occasions, I considered writing to her just to give a thumb's up, but I never did work up the nerve. Today, I wish I would have written to her, because now I'll never have that chance.
More about Molly can be read here, her last column can be found here, and a tribute to Molly can be read here.
So I'm somewhat bummed by the news. No, I didn't know her, but she certainly made me think on more than one occasion.
Molly Ivins is dead.
Now, I'm probably more of a conservative liberal than anything else. I rarely talk politics here, mostly because I'm not really into arguing. I think that freely expressing our opinions is one of the greatest boons of living in the United States, and anything that threatens freedom of speech is a cause for concern.
It's not like I knew Molly Ivins, except through her editorials. I started reading her Creator's Syndicate column regularly about a year or two ago. I may not have agreed with everything she wrote (albeit, I did agree with most of it), but she was funny and insightful and scathing. It was love at first read. On more than a couple of occasions, I considered writing to her just to give a thumb's up, but I never did work up the nerve. Today, I wish I would have written to her, because now I'll never have that chance.
More about Molly can be read here, her last column can be found here, and a tribute to Molly can be read here.
So I'm somewhat bummed by the news. No, I didn't know her, but she certainly made me think on more than one occasion.
30 January 2007
Sahm's Tale, Part 5
Yelling above decks caused Sahm to stir. He opened his eyes in the darkness and looked around in vain. The rocking of the ship was less pronounced, though he could still feel the waves beneath its keel and hear the creaking of the masts echo through the hull. His mouth was bitter and sour-tasting, and his head ached. He swung his legs out of the hammock and lowered himself gingerly to the floor. Taking a tentative step in the direction of the door (or so he hoped), Sahm's head swam and he slipped, falling noisily to the ground. He cursed himself, scrabbling through a wet patch that stank of vomit – his own, though he didn't remember throwing up in his humble, closet-like cabin – and crawled to the door.
Outside, the light of the morning sun was just peeking over the eastern waves. The wind had dissipated, the storm passed. The ship's crew went about their business, as if he wasn't even there. A couple of sailors glanced his way, their eyes yellow in the dim light, but they made no comment, nor did Sahm expect them to. He made his way to the bow of the ship, pausing to let a group of sailors pass by. One of them muttered something, but Sahm ignored it. He'd heard worse from his own people, let alone from this mongrel breed of men from the north. Their insults washed over him like a gentle rain.
Once at the bow, he removed his head-wrapping. The stained length of cloth was haphazardly wound, anyway, thanks in part due to the restless sleep he'd endured the previous evening. His dark hair, freed from the wrapping, fell to his shoulders in a lanky mass. Sahm faced the sun, knelt on the weathered planks, and made his prayers to the sky. He prayed for forgiveness, for he had many sins for which to atone. He prayed that his family be spared humiliation for the things he had done. Most of all, he prayed for her, that she be forgiven for their mutual transgressions. His prayers finished, he rose wearily to his feet and wrapped his head with his turban. Securing the end of the wrapping, he placed his hands upon the ship's rail and stared at the horizon.
He had not always been a religious man. The faith had taken him by surprise. Lonely men seldom forsook their gods, and Sahm was no exception. He had seen amazing things in his time as a caravan guard. Likewise, his single taste of massed warfare had reinforced the fact that he'd rather believe in something than to die a faithless infidel. Even if the crows picked out his corpse's eyes, and the ants burrowed into his guts, Sahm knew that his true essence would fly amongst the clouds, one divine wind amongst many. He could think of few things finer than that.
"Four more days," came a gruff voice from behind. Sahm recognized the voice immediately, and turned to nod to the speaker. Kliner was the ship's captain. He was a savvy merchant who had been sailing the oceans since Sahm was a little boy. The man was older than he looked. Underweight, was Kliner, with short brown hair, a pair of mischievous hazel eyes, and a face that somehow resisted the weathering effects that the elements ultimately brought to bear on men of the seas. "The storm blew us a wee bit off course, and now the wind has fallen to little more than a breeze."
Sahm nodded that he understood, and tried to hide his disappointment. He'd expected to arrive at his destination tomorrow. Four more days on this wretched boat; he didn't know if he could manage it.
Kliner smiled, as if he knew exactly what Sahm was thinking. "Don't fret none," he said. "Keep to drinking water, and you'll be fine. The boys may not like ya, but I doubt they'll let ya die on their ship. 'Fraid of ghosts, they are." It seemed that the heathen prospect of his ghost eternally walking the decks of the ship had kept the crew from taking their assaults beyond mere insults. Sahm was glad for that, suddenly. He also felt that Kliner, being an honorable man, had likely been keeping an eye out for him. "Get yourself a drink, maybe try and keep some bread down." Kliner winked, then walked off towards the stern of the ship. Several of the men nodded to him deferentially as he passed.
Graven, the Halfling, was amongst the sailors that Kliner had passed. He looked up at his captain with wide eyes, as if he were hoping to be noticed. Kliner walked by, offering little more than a curt nod to the diminutive crewman, but it was enough. Graven smiled to himself after Kliner had passed, but his mirth faded when noticed that Sahm was looking at him. His eyes narrowed as he returned Sahm's gaze, and then he went back to work.
Halflings. Sahm's father had once said that the gods had created the little folk so that men could feel like giants amongst them. Sahm was not so sure. If the Halflings of the north were anything like those of the deserts, then Sahm could only hope that he could stay out of their way.
Outside, the light of the morning sun was just peeking over the eastern waves. The wind had dissipated, the storm passed. The ship's crew went about their business, as if he wasn't even there. A couple of sailors glanced his way, their eyes yellow in the dim light, but they made no comment, nor did Sahm expect them to. He made his way to the bow of the ship, pausing to let a group of sailors pass by. One of them muttered something, but Sahm ignored it. He'd heard worse from his own people, let alone from this mongrel breed of men from the north. Their insults washed over him like a gentle rain.
Once at the bow, he removed his head-wrapping. The stained length of cloth was haphazardly wound, anyway, thanks in part due to the restless sleep he'd endured the previous evening. His dark hair, freed from the wrapping, fell to his shoulders in a lanky mass. Sahm faced the sun, knelt on the weathered planks, and made his prayers to the sky. He prayed for forgiveness, for he had many sins for which to atone. He prayed that his family be spared humiliation for the things he had done. Most of all, he prayed for her, that she be forgiven for their mutual transgressions. His prayers finished, he rose wearily to his feet and wrapped his head with his turban. Securing the end of the wrapping, he placed his hands upon the ship's rail and stared at the horizon.
He had not always been a religious man. The faith had taken him by surprise. Lonely men seldom forsook their gods, and Sahm was no exception. He had seen amazing things in his time as a caravan guard. Likewise, his single taste of massed warfare had reinforced the fact that he'd rather believe in something than to die a faithless infidel. Even if the crows picked out his corpse's eyes, and the ants burrowed into his guts, Sahm knew that his true essence would fly amongst the clouds, one divine wind amongst many. He could think of few things finer than that.
"Four more days," came a gruff voice from behind. Sahm recognized the voice immediately, and turned to nod to the speaker. Kliner was the ship's captain. He was a savvy merchant who had been sailing the oceans since Sahm was a little boy. The man was older than he looked. Underweight, was Kliner, with short brown hair, a pair of mischievous hazel eyes, and a face that somehow resisted the weathering effects that the elements ultimately brought to bear on men of the seas. "The storm blew us a wee bit off course, and now the wind has fallen to little more than a breeze."
Sahm nodded that he understood, and tried to hide his disappointment. He'd expected to arrive at his destination tomorrow. Four more days on this wretched boat; he didn't know if he could manage it.
Kliner smiled, as if he knew exactly what Sahm was thinking. "Don't fret none," he said. "Keep to drinking water, and you'll be fine. The boys may not like ya, but I doubt they'll let ya die on their ship. 'Fraid of ghosts, they are." It seemed that the heathen prospect of his ghost eternally walking the decks of the ship had kept the crew from taking their assaults beyond mere insults. Sahm was glad for that, suddenly. He also felt that Kliner, being an honorable man, had likely been keeping an eye out for him. "Get yourself a drink, maybe try and keep some bread down." Kliner winked, then walked off towards the stern of the ship. Several of the men nodded to him deferentially as he passed.
Graven, the Halfling, was amongst the sailors that Kliner had passed. He looked up at his captain with wide eyes, as if he were hoping to be noticed. Kliner walked by, offering little more than a curt nod to the diminutive crewman, but it was enough. Graven smiled to himself after Kliner had passed, but his mirth faded when noticed that Sahm was looking at him. His eyes narrowed as he returned Sahm's gaze, and then he went back to work.
Halflings. Sahm's father had once said that the gods had created the little folk so that men could feel like giants amongst them. Sahm was not so sure. If the Halflings of the north were anything like those of the deserts, then Sahm could only hope that he could stay out of their way.
28 January 2007
Sahm's Tale, Part 4
The caravan was attacked by desert tribesmen in the middle of the journey's fourth week.
The time had passed quickly, and nothing of ill consequence had occurred since they'd left Uman. Aliz was, it seemed, within their grasp, and the men grew complacent as the expedition drew to a close. Qadil grumbled at their careless manner, exhorting them to be vigilant, but they laughed at him and called him an old fool when his back was turned. "Misfortune visits most often at dawn or dusk," he would chide, using an expression that was far older than he was.
Sahm allowed himself to experience a cautious sort of relief, despite Qadil's constant warnings. This trip would bring him a healthy sum if the cargo sold well, and Aliz was a rich metropolis filled with all the wonders of the deep south. Gold, silks, exotic beasts, ivory, and fine eastern steel. All he needed to do was find another caravan to escort back to Uman, and he could retire for a while. Perhaps, he thought, settle on a wife. That should please his mother.
Hashim had talked of nothing but the strange woman in the passenger wagon for the past three weeks. He seemed obsessed, craning his neck none too discreetly if the wagon's flap so much as fluttered in the wind. Despite himself, Sahm found Hashim's boorish interest contagious. He often found himself stealing a glance when the lady's servants entered or emerged, but he never caught sight of the lady herself. Qadil caught him gazing at the wagon one morning, and nudged him gently with his crop.
"The watchman's eyes should gaze at the horizon," he said. Sahm had blushed in response, which brought a chuckle from Qadil.
Sahm climbed into the saddle, and absently patted his horse's flank. It was a fine animal, a gift given to him by his father on his sixteenth birthday. He'd named the horse Asianne, or "rising sun," due to the golden color of her mane. Two years later, his brother had joked that the horse was the only bride that Sahm would ever have. The jibe had angered him, though he didn't show it. He would have been angrier still had he known how true it would ring five years later.
The two rode out ahead of the caravan. The drovers had yet to harness the camels to the carts, and the cooking fire still smoldered in the chill morning air. Neither spoke. Instead, they listened to the sounds of the desert around them. They moved slowly, checking their mounts' speed, until they'd gone two hundred yards or so. They could see the wagons and carts in the distance, lining up, and they could hear the drovers whistling and clicking their tongues at their beasts as they did so. The cool breeze had gone, replaced by a sudden stillness in the air. Sahm shivered.
He glanced to Qadil, who was looking back at him. "Did you feel that, too?" Qadil asked, and Sahm nodded. The two looked back in the direction the caravan in time to see a wave of horsemen, ant-like in size at this distance, descending upon it from behind. The rear guards, their bellies full of breakfast and their eyes still sandy with sleep, had not yet noticed. Qadil muttered a blasphemous curse and dug his heels into his horse's flanks. It leapt forward with a cry as if stung. Sahm did the same, spurring Asianne to follow Qadil's lead, even as the bandits loosed a volley of arrows at the rearmost carts.
The rear guards cried out in alarm. Their voices, made small by the distance and drowned out by the pounding of his horse's hooves, were cut short as the shafts of arrows pierced them through. Qadil had been right after all, Sahm thought.
The time had passed quickly, and nothing of ill consequence had occurred since they'd left Uman. Aliz was, it seemed, within their grasp, and the men grew complacent as the expedition drew to a close. Qadil grumbled at their careless manner, exhorting them to be vigilant, but they laughed at him and called him an old fool when his back was turned. "Misfortune visits most often at dawn or dusk," he would chide, using an expression that was far older than he was.
Sahm allowed himself to experience a cautious sort of relief, despite Qadil's constant warnings. This trip would bring him a healthy sum if the cargo sold well, and Aliz was a rich metropolis filled with all the wonders of the deep south. Gold, silks, exotic beasts, ivory, and fine eastern steel. All he needed to do was find another caravan to escort back to Uman, and he could retire for a while. Perhaps, he thought, settle on a wife. That should please his mother.
Hashim had talked of nothing but the strange woman in the passenger wagon for the past three weeks. He seemed obsessed, craning his neck none too discreetly if the wagon's flap so much as fluttered in the wind. Despite himself, Sahm found Hashim's boorish interest contagious. He often found himself stealing a glance when the lady's servants entered or emerged, but he never caught sight of the lady herself. Qadil caught him gazing at the wagon one morning, and nudged him gently with his crop.
"The watchman's eyes should gaze at the horizon," he said. Sahm had blushed in response, which brought a chuckle from Qadil.
Sahm climbed into the saddle, and absently patted his horse's flank. It was a fine animal, a gift given to him by his father on his sixteenth birthday. He'd named the horse Asianne, or "rising sun," due to the golden color of her mane. Two years later, his brother had joked that the horse was the only bride that Sahm would ever have. The jibe had angered him, though he didn't show it. He would have been angrier still had he known how true it would ring five years later.
The two rode out ahead of the caravan. The drovers had yet to harness the camels to the carts, and the cooking fire still smoldered in the chill morning air. Neither spoke. Instead, they listened to the sounds of the desert around them. They moved slowly, checking their mounts' speed, until they'd gone two hundred yards or so. They could see the wagons and carts in the distance, lining up, and they could hear the drovers whistling and clicking their tongues at their beasts as they did so. The cool breeze had gone, replaced by a sudden stillness in the air. Sahm shivered.
He glanced to Qadil, who was looking back at him. "Did you feel that, too?" Qadil asked, and Sahm nodded. The two looked back in the direction the caravan in time to see a wave of horsemen, ant-like in size at this distance, descending upon it from behind. The rear guards, their bellies full of breakfast and their eyes still sandy with sleep, had not yet noticed. Qadil muttered a blasphemous curse and dug his heels into his horse's flanks. It leapt forward with a cry as if stung. Sahm did the same, spurring Asianne to follow Qadil's lead, even as the bandits loosed a volley of arrows at the rearmost carts.
The rear guards cried out in alarm. Their voices, made small by the distance and drowned out by the pounding of his horse's hooves, were cut short as the shafts of arrows pierced them through. Qadil had been right after all, Sahm thought.
26 January 2007
Sahm's Tale, Part 3
The roiling of the sea churned Sahm's stomach. It was a malady that he'd been cursed with since he'd set foot upon the ship. He had barely kept anything down for a week, and the weakness in his legs and arms was a telling result of his nausea-induced starvation. Speed was essential, or else he might have plied his skills on a northbound caravan instead of paying what little gold he had left for a passage northward by sea. Such a course wouldn't have been wise, for the men who sought him knew his manner. The caravans leaving Uman would be the first place they'd look.
Like the desert, the sea had its share of bandits. The rough weather that had risen suddenly as the shadows had grown long with the coming of night would keep the ship safe for the time being, but it presented its own dangers in return. Storms, brought on by nature's fickle whim and fueled by the winds that he worshipped, could tear boats to matchsticks and leave few traces of life behind. Sahm muttered a silent prayer as he gripped the rail, his knuckles white with the effort.
Pirates, they called them, these bandits of the waters: vagabonds who rode the waves in vessels both great and small, preying on wealthy and poor alike. Sahm did not fear them, and would, in fact, welcome the change of pace were such an encounter to occur. It would likely mean a quick end to his voyage, given the state of the crew. Though they seemed competent sailors, he didn't sense much fighting spirit in the men that crewed the ship he rode. Like as not, they would heave-to and allow their assailants to board without struggle.
"Best get below decks!" a crewman called, and Sahm turned towards the voice. It was the one they called Graven, a young Halfling with chestnut hair and a northerner's complexion. Sahm knew of Halflings, having seen them in his own homeland. The desert Halfling tribes were aloof, moving from oasis to oasis with the shifting sands of the wastes. Occasionally they would trade with the caravans that Sahm had accompanied, should their paths cross. On other occasions, they would raid them, quietly stealing into camp at night to pilfer cargo, or ambushing them en masse if the opportunity presented itself.
Sahm nodded to Graven. He could see that the weather was not going to improve. Though he despised going into the ship's cramped body, he saw little choice. The place stank of humanity, mold, and the creaking of the timbers was all around. Even though the horizon would not be visible, the violent reeling of the ship could still be felt. In fact, it seemed more pronounced down there, as items suspended from the ceiling swayed and swung in a manner that was far from hypnotic.
One more heave, Sahm thought, his stomach sour and his head beginning to ache. He retched over the side, but naught came up but yellow bile and foam. Spitting, he crept towards the ladder that would take him below, to the hammock that he'd scarcely slept in since his exile began. Graven watched him intently, his face betraying little sympathy for Sahm's discomfort. He, like the rest of the crew, was of northern descent. The men of the Southern Empire were good partners in times of peace, but the armies of the South had also been known to march north in search of conquest. A long history of war fueled distrust between their peoples, and Sahm could not blame the small sailor for his prejudices. He feared that he would find little hospitality at his destination, either.
The hammock waited in the dimly lit chamber, swaying with the rough tide. A lantern, suspended from the ceiling by a carefully-secured wire, swung in time with it. The room was close, little more than a closet, but it was a sanctuary of sorts. He climbed into the hammock weakly, shivering with wet and sickness, and closed his eyes. Anywhere but here, he thought. Had she been worth this? How could he have known, at the time, that his path would lead him here?
No, consequences were the last thing that had been on his mind.
Like the desert, the sea had its share of bandits. The rough weather that had risen suddenly as the shadows had grown long with the coming of night would keep the ship safe for the time being, but it presented its own dangers in return. Storms, brought on by nature's fickle whim and fueled by the winds that he worshipped, could tear boats to matchsticks and leave few traces of life behind. Sahm muttered a silent prayer as he gripped the rail, his knuckles white with the effort.
Pirates, they called them, these bandits of the waters: vagabonds who rode the waves in vessels both great and small, preying on wealthy and poor alike. Sahm did not fear them, and would, in fact, welcome the change of pace were such an encounter to occur. It would likely mean a quick end to his voyage, given the state of the crew. Though they seemed competent sailors, he didn't sense much fighting spirit in the men that crewed the ship he rode. Like as not, they would heave-to and allow their assailants to board without struggle.
"Best get below decks!" a crewman called, and Sahm turned towards the voice. It was the one they called Graven, a young Halfling with chestnut hair and a northerner's complexion. Sahm knew of Halflings, having seen them in his own homeland. The desert Halfling tribes were aloof, moving from oasis to oasis with the shifting sands of the wastes. Occasionally they would trade with the caravans that Sahm had accompanied, should their paths cross. On other occasions, they would raid them, quietly stealing into camp at night to pilfer cargo, or ambushing them en masse if the opportunity presented itself.
Sahm nodded to Graven. He could see that the weather was not going to improve. Though he despised going into the ship's cramped body, he saw little choice. The place stank of humanity, mold, and the creaking of the timbers was all around. Even though the horizon would not be visible, the violent reeling of the ship could still be felt. In fact, it seemed more pronounced down there, as items suspended from the ceiling swayed and swung in a manner that was far from hypnotic.
One more heave, Sahm thought, his stomach sour and his head beginning to ache. He retched over the side, but naught came up but yellow bile and foam. Spitting, he crept towards the ladder that would take him below, to the hammock that he'd scarcely slept in since his exile began. Graven watched him intently, his face betraying little sympathy for Sahm's discomfort. He, like the rest of the crew, was of northern descent. The men of the Southern Empire were good partners in times of peace, but the armies of the South had also been known to march north in search of conquest. A long history of war fueled distrust between their peoples, and Sahm could not blame the small sailor for his prejudices. He feared that he would find little hospitality at his destination, either.
The hammock waited in the dimly lit chamber, swaying with the rough tide. A lantern, suspended from the ceiling by a carefully-secured wire, swung in time with it. The room was close, little more than a closet, but it was a sanctuary of sorts. He climbed into the hammock weakly, shivering with wet and sickness, and closed his eyes. Anywhere but here, he thought. Had she been worth this? How could he have known, at the time, that his path would lead him here?
No, consequences were the last thing that had been on his mind.
24 January 2007
Sahm's Tale, Part 2
The sands of the desert had cooled, though the breeze out of the west still carried a trace of the day's dry heat. The wagons had been circled, and tents of various shapes and sizes had been erected around them. Three small fires were burning low within the ring of wagons. A handful of men stood near the fires, talking in hushed tones. The scent of strong coffee mingled freely with the earthier smell of the animals that had been tethered nearby. Sahm sat within earshot of the assembled men, rubbing the blade of his shamshir with an oily cloth.
He'd ridden ahead of the caravan that day, which meant that he was allowed to rest that evening. Tomorrow night he would patrol the camp's perimeter, probably with Hashim or Qadil.
He sighed forlornly in spite of himself as he thought of being paired with Hashim. The man — hells, Hashim was practically a boy — prattled on like a woman. He was full of gossip and vanity, bragging about his father's wealth and the endless herds of camels that roamed his family's extensive properties. The discussion, which was always one-sided, grew tiresome quickly. It was all that Sahm could do to hold his tongue once Hashim got started. If there was a bright side to patrolling with Hashim, Sahm was unable to determine what it was.
Qadil, on the other hand, was an older fellow, probably a dozen years Sahm's senior. He'd been a caravan guard most of his life, and his lined and weathered face revealed untold wisdom and knowledge. When he spoke on patrol, which was rare, it was to convey something of importance. Sahm had learned quickly to listen to Qadil, and he had developed a great deal of respect for the older man. The one time that Qadil had spoken to Sahm at any length, he'd talked about his family. Two wives, fourteen children (ten of them boys), and a number of horses waited for him back home. He made a comfortable living riding with the desert caravans, his experience commanding quite a sum from the merchants that employed him.
The caravan had set out from the great city of Uman ten days ago, the silks and spices in its wagons destined for the vast markets of Aliz in the south. Passengers had also come with the caravan, occupying a richly-appointed wagon that was kept close to the center of the column as it trundled along the winding north/south road. Sahm had seen two of the passengers, servants or slaves by the looks of them, running about in the mornings and evenings, fetching food for the mysterious guests in the opulent carriage.
As they scouted that morning, Hashim had boasted in a whisper that he'd spied the enigmatic travelers the day before. "A woman," he'd said, looking sidelong over his shoulder in the direction of the wagons in the distance.
Sahm shrugged, trying to seem uninterested in the boy's nattering.
"Her eyes are like jade, Sahm," Hashim continued with a sigh. "Skin so fair, it would seem the sun has never had the pleasure of shining upon it. And her face..."
At that, Sahm shot Hashim a disapproving glance. "You saw her face?"
Hashim held up a hand, trying to hide the wayward grin that fought to manifest upon his chapped lips. "I could not help it, Sahm. Had you been with me, your eyes would have been held captive as well."
Sahm grunted, intrigued in the tale despite himself. "Is she alone?"
Nodding, Hashim went on. "She has servants, of course. Young girls, mostly, but none of them anywhere near as lovely as she is."
"Of course not," Sahm said.
"Five more weeks," Hashim mused. "I'm sure you'll have a chance to catch a glimpse of her, Sahm. Don't be jealous of my good luck."
"Don't worry," Sahm replied. "I'm not."
Yet Sahm was, even though he didn't want to admit it to himself. Much less admit it to the likes of Hashim. He'd seen twenty-three years, yet he'd never found a woman that he cared about enough to marry. His mother wrung her hands endlessly when she thought of her son's perpetual bachelorhood. His father was somewhat more forgiving, though even he was growing tired of the endless matchmaking. Sahm's brothers had all married. Aside from his youngest sister, who had yet to see her eleventh year, each of his siblings had found a bride or been married off to a husband.
He didn't particularly mind the bachelor's lifestyle he'd become accustomed to, but he did occasionally wonder what he was missing. The girls his parents had introduced him to were, by and large, vapid and naïve, insufferably young, with little knowledge of the world outside of their bedchambers. Homely, too, despite their mothers' attempts to hide their features with veils and heavy robes. Sahm could not be bothered to pay much attention, and like as not his would-be brides would leave his father's house in tears. Mother would wag her head, and Father would roll his eyes, but they never seemed particularly surprised at the outcome.
"Your eyes seem far away," said a familiar voice, rousing Sahm from his reverie. The blade of his scimitar shined yellow-orange in the flickering firelight. Looking up from the folded steel that had once served his grandfather, Sahm saw that Qadil had addressed him. "Might I intrude?"
Sahm nodded, and Qadil sat down next to him. Crossing his legs, the older man pulled his sheathed dagger from within the folds of his robe and placed it near his feet. "What troubles you?"
Sahm shrugged, sheathing his scimitar in his plain steel scabbard. "Brides that might have been."
Qadil chuckled at that, scratching his chin thoughtfully. Despite his weatherworn features, he was a fine-looking man, with grey-white hair and a closely-trimmed beard. His hazel eyes twinkled in the firelight. "Pretty ones?"
By way of reply Sahm scoffed, following it with a wry chuckle.
"Your first wife must always be beautiful," Qadil said. "Otherwise, your eyes will wander. You'll save the ugly ones for your second and third wives, if you know what's good for you."
"I can do naught but trust in your wisdom, sahir," Sahm said.
Qadil waved his hand dismissively at Sahm's compliment. "You are young yet, Sahm. You will marry in time, I am sure."
Sahm nodded quietly, and turned to look at the fire even as his thoughts turned to the caravan's mysterious passenger and the rumors of her beauty...
He'd ridden ahead of the caravan that day, which meant that he was allowed to rest that evening. Tomorrow night he would patrol the camp's perimeter, probably with Hashim or Qadil.
He sighed forlornly in spite of himself as he thought of being paired with Hashim. The man — hells, Hashim was practically a boy — prattled on like a woman. He was full of gossip and vanity, bragging about his father's wealth and the endless herds of camels that roamed his family's extensive properties. The discussion, which was always one-sided, grew tiresome quickly. It was all that Sahm could do to hold his tongue once Hashim got started. If there was a bright side to patrolling with Hashim, Sahm was unable to determine what it was.
Qadil, on the other hand, was an older fellow, probably a dozen years Sahm's senior. He'd been a caravan guard most of his life, and his lined and weathered face revealed untold wisdom and knowledge. When he spoke on patrol, which was rare, it was to convey something of importance. Sahm had learned quickly to listen to Qadil, and he had developed a great deal of respect for the older man. The one time that Qadil had spoken to Sahm at any length, he'd talked about his family. Two wives, fourteen children (ten of them boys), and a number of horses waited for him back home. He made a comfortable living riding with the desert caravans, his experience commanding quite a sum from the merchants that employed him.
The caravan had set out from the great city of Uman ten days ago, the silks and spices in its wagons destined for the vast markets of Aliz in the south. Passengers had also come with the caravan, occupying a richly-appointed wagon that was kept close to the center of the column as it trundled along the winding north/south road. Sahm had seen two of the passengers, servants or slaves by the looks of them, running about in the mornings and evenings, fetching food for the mysterious guests in the opulent carriage.
As they scouted that morning, Hashim had boasted in a whisper that he'd spied the enigmatic travelers the day before. "A woman," he'd said, looking sidelong over his shoulder in the direction of the wagons in the distance.
Sahm shrugged, trying to seem uninterested in the boy's nattering.
"Her eyes are like jade, Sahm," Hashim continued with a sigh. "Skin so fair, it would seem the sun has never had the pleasure of shining upon it. And her face..."
At that, Sahm shot Hashim a disapproving glance. "You saw her face?"
Hashim held up a hand, trying to hide the wayward grin that fought to manifest upon his chapped lips. "I could not help it, Sahm. Had you been with me, your eyes would have been held captive as well."
Sahm grunted, intrigued in the tale despite himself. "Is she alone?"
Nodding, Hashim went on. "She has servants, of course. Young girls, mostly, but none of them anywhere near as lovely as she is."
"Of course not," Sahm said.
"Five more weeks," Hashim mused. "I'm sure you'll have a chance to catch a glimpse of her, Sahm. Don't be jealous of my good luck."
"Don't worry," Sahm replied. "I'm not."
Yet Sahm was, even though he didn't want to admit it to himself. Much less admit it to the likes of Hashim. He'd seen twenty-three years, yet he'd never found a woman that he cared about enough to marry. His mother wrung her hands endlessly when she thought of her son's perpetual bachelorhood. His father was somewhat more forgiving, though even he was growing tired of the endless matchmaking. Sahm's brothers had all married. Aside from his youngest sister, who had yet to see her eleventh year, each of his siblings had found a bride or been married off to a husband.
He didn't particularly mind the bachelor's lifestyle he'd become accustomed to, but he did occasionally wonder what he was missing. The girls his parents had introduced him to were, by and large, vapid and naïve, insufferably young, with little knowledge of the world outside of their bedchambers. Homely, too, despite their mothers' attempts to hide their features with veils and heavy robes. Sahm could not be bothered to pay much attention, and like as not his would-be brides would leave his father's house in tears. Mother would wag her head, and Father would roll his eyes, but they never seemed particularly surprised at the outcome.
"Your eyes seem far away," said a familiar voice, rousing Sahm from his reverie. The blade of his scimitar shined yellow-orange in the flickering firelight. Looking up from the folded steel that had once served his grandfather, Sahm saw that Qadil had addressed him. "Might I intrude?"
Sahm nodded, and Qadil sat down next to him. Crossing his legs, the older man pulled his sheathed dagger from within the folds of his robe and placed it near his feet. "What troubles you?"
Sahm shrugged, sheathing his scimitar in his plain steel scabbard. "Brides that might have been."
Qadil chuckled at that, scratching his chin thoughtfully. Despite his weatherworn features, he was a fine-looking man, with grey-white hair and a closely-trimmed beard. His hazel eyes twinkled in the firelight. "Pretty ones?"
By way of reply Sahm scoffed, following it with a wry chuckle.
"Your first wife must always be beautiful," Qadil said. "Otherwise, your eyes will wander. You'll save the ugly ones for your second and third wives, if you know what's good for you."
"I can do naught but trust in your wisdom, sahir," Sahm said.
Qadil waved his hand dismissively at Sahm's compliment. "You are young yet, Sahm. You will marry in time, I am sure."
Sahm nodded quietly, and turned to look at the fire even as his thoughts turned to the caravan's mysterious passenger and the rumors of her beauty...
23 January 2007
Sahm's Tale, Part 1
Sahm was uncomfortably aware of the biting, salty wind that caused his eyes to redden as he stared into the distance from the prow of the mighty ship. Better to have a loyal horse beneath him than the surging deck of a trader’s vessel, he thought miserably. Despite its placid appearance from the relative safety of shore, the ocean was a veritable desert, the countless sands replaced by briny, forbidding depths. There was little comfort in the analogy. To lose oneself here, thrown overboard by storm, or madness, or unruly crew, was to die and be forgotten.
He was a man who knew the wastes of his homeland well. Sahm had ridden across the breadth of the great desert many times, in service to half a dozen caravans. He had leant his bow and blade to the protection of the goods and folk of his country, loosing arrows at bandits, raiders, and the unholy spawn of the shifting sands. In between these meandering jaunts, which often lasted months at a time, he served with his father and brothers in his lord’s army.
It was not often that they were summoned to fight at the behest of the Caliph, but such a thing was not unheard of. Even Sahm had seen the ugly face of war, where men became beasts driven by bloodlust, and were rarely tempered by faith. There was no war here, upon the waves, unless it was between the sea and the endless sky that sat above it. The sun was setting, and the planets and stars had started to reveal themselves in the eastern sky. The sight of the stars in the heavens drew Sahm’s thoughts to another night, several months past, spent in a much better place...
He was a man who knew the wastes of his homeland well. Sahm had ridden across the breadth of the great desert many times, in service to half a dozen caravans. He had leant his bow and blade to the protection of the goods and folk of his country, loosing arrows at bandits, raiders, and the unholy spawn of the shifting sands. In between these meandering jaunts, which often lasted months at a time, he served with his father and brothers in his lord’s army.
It was not often that they were summoned to fight at the behest of the Caliph, but such a thing was not unheard of. Even Sahm had seen the ugly face of war, where men became beasts driven by bloodlust, and were rarely tempered by faith. There was no war here, upon the waves, unless it was between the sea and the endless sky that sat above it. The sun was setting, and the planets and stars had started to reveal themselves in the eastern sky. The sight of the stars in the heavens drew Sahm’s thoughts to another night, several months past, spent in a much better place...
21 January 2007
Ignore the Man Behind the Curtain
The Unspeakable Cat is a weblog I put up a while back, as a sort of joke intended to cheer up my wife. The central character is Hastur, who is Amy's fat, grey cat. We named him Hastur in part because we are both fans of the Chthulhu mythos, and in part because he's always been somewhat naughty.
Hastur in Kittenhood
Though affectionate, Hastur prefers to seek attention on his own schedule. He is still naughty, generally on a daily basis. His badness includes lots of cat-like behavior, such as clawing at the carpet or sofa, leaving stinking piles of waste on the carpet to protest our son's dubious affections, and rampaging in the wee hours of the night. His favorite things to ingest are milk and raw beef.
Hastur Loves Milk, Especially When It's Not His
He's quite fond of eating. Sometimes Hastur is so enthusiastic that he eats way too much and ends up doing his bulemia impression all over the carpet. He never learned to bury the things that he deposits in the litter box. Rather, he paws at vertical surfaces nearby: walls, the exterior of the litter box, or whatever else is available. To say that Hastur's spoor smells bad is a cosmic understatement. In all my years, I have never smelled anything worse.
Hastur "Buries" His Litterbox Leavings
It's a lot to tolerate, I suppose, but I manage to do it despite my aversion to his occasional extra-litterbox leavings.
I got out of the habit of updating Hastur's blog, but I've recently started up again. It's mostly a creative outlet, albeit an absurd and occasionally scatological one. Feel free to check it out; read the archives. Comment, too, should you feel moved to do so. Hastur won't mind. And if you're really nice, maybe he'll be merciful to you when the world inevitably collapses beneath the weight of the Great Old Ones...
Though affectionate, Hastur prefers to seek attention on his own schedule. He is still naughty, generally on a daily basis. His badness includes lots of cat-like behavior, such as clawing at the carpet or sofa, leaving stinking piles of waste on the carpet to protest our son's dubious affections, and rampaging in the wee hours of the night. His favorite things to ingest are milk and raw beef.
He's quite fond of eating. Sometimes Hastur is so enthusiastic that he eats way too much and ends up doing his bulemia impression all over the carpet. He never learned to bury the things that he deposits in the litter box. Rather, he paws at vertical surfaces nearby: walls, the exterior of the litter box, or whatever else is available. To say that Hastur's spoor smells bad is a cosmic understatement. In all my years, I have never smelled anything worse.
It's a lot to tolerate, I suppose, but I manage to do it despite my aversion to his occasional extra-litterbox leavings.
I got out of the habit of updating Hastur's blog, but I've recently started up again. It's mostly a creative outlet, albeit an absurd and occasionally scatological one. Feel free to check it out; read the archives. Comment, too, should you feel moved to do so. Hastur won't mind. And if you're really nice, maybe he'll be merciful to you when the world inevitably collapses beneath the weight of the Great Old Ones...
18 January 2007
17 January 2007
Definitely Not Duracell
My laptop battery is in its final death throes. No longer will it hold a charge.
Given that life without my computer is unthinkable, I've ordered a new battery from Dell. Expensive? Yeah, it was. Can I afford it? Yes, just so. I'd planned to spend said money on something less utilitarian, but I know that I'll be happy once that battery light stops blinking red.
I had news today. It was good news, but not to me. I can't say I expected a different answer, but I am, nonetheless, somewhat down about the whole thing. Should there be a next time, perhaps I will have better fortune.
I'm hankering to DM/GM again. It's been too long. I think I've lost my train of thought, the one that was chugging around my brain in December. Derailed by neglect, I may yet bring it back at some point. For now, the future use of my dining room table is uncertain. My dice, unused, will remain in their little black pouch, set aside like impotent orbs that once brimmed with random chance.
The good news is, my blood pressure has gone way down. As in, it's normal. I don't feel much of a difference (and I likely won't). I guess that's something that I should be happy about, hm?
I complain sometimes about waiting. Well, in a couple of instances, at least, my waiting is done. In at least four other instances, it continues. At least one of the latter cases, the impending birth of my daughter, has a definite due date. The other three remain unknown.
Given that life without my computer is unthinkable, I've ordered a new battery from Dell. Expensive? Yeah, it was. Can I afford it? Yes, just so. I'd planned to spend said money on something less utilitarian, but I know that I'll be happy once that battery light stops blinking red.
I had news today. It was good news, but not to me. I can't say I expected a different answer, but I am, nonetheless, somewhat down about the whole thing. Should there be a next time, perhaps I will have better fortune.
I'm hankering to DM/GM again. It's been too long. I think I've lost my train of thought, the one that was chugging around my brain in December. Derailed by neglect, I may yet bring it back at some point. For now, the future use of my dining room table is uncertain. My dice, unused, will remain in their little black pouch, set aside like impotent orbs that once brimmed with random chance.
The good news is, my blood pressure has gone way down. As in, it's normal. I don't feel much of a difference (and I likely won't). I guess that's something that I should be happy about, hm?
I complain sometimes about waiting. Well, in a couple of instances, at least, my waiting is done. In at least four other instances, it continues. At least one of the latter cases, the impending birth of my daughter, has a definite due date. The other three remain unknown.
14 January 2007
Why Am I Not Surprised?
I don't often bring up politics here, but today is different. From CNN:
President Bush, facing opposition from both parties over his plan to send more troops to Iraq, said he has the authority to act no matter what Congress wants. "I've made my decision, and we're going forward," Bush told CBS' 60 Minutes.
Emphasis is mine.
A typical response from this power-hungry administration. So much for democracy or public opinion. I continually get the feeling that this country is being run with a "father knows best" mentality.
I, for one, am not a child, and the way that the Bush administration operates continues to be incredibly insulting to the citizens of this nation.
President Bush, facing opposition from both parties over his plan to send more troops to Iraq, said he has the authority to act no matter what Congress wants. "I've made my decision, and we're going forward," Bush told CBS' 60 Minutes.
Emphasis is mine.
A typical response from this power-hungry administration. So much for democracy or public opinion. I continually get the feeling that this country is being run with a "father knows best" mentality.
I, for one, am not a child, and the way that the Bush administration operates continues to be incredibly insulting to the citizens of this nation.
Cost of the Hobby
Is gaming too expensive? Are the prices charged for RPG products too high?
Five or six years ago, I might have answered "yes" to both of those questions. It didn't stop me from buying books and other gaming products, though. I've always found ways to keep my costs down, to look for the best bargain I could find.
There was a time, many years ago, when I worked at a local game shop for $5.75 an hour. As an employee, I had a 20% discount on anything I bought from the store. Needless to say, I sunk about half of my income into the store, and came away with a stack of books over the course of my 13 month stint in retail. The fact that I still lived at home in those days, without rent or a plethora of bills and expenses hanging over my head, was partly to blame.
After leaving the game store for a more profitable position with a company in the manufacuring industry, I was no longer privy to that employee discount. In fact, after spending 5 days a week for over a year in the store, I rarely paid my old employer a visit. I suppose I could've gone down and begged my old co-workers to ring me up with their discount, but that seemed ill-mannered.
Instead, I started to patronize a store down in Clairemont called Dwarf Mountain. Dwarf Mountain discounted everything, even CCGs and miniatures, at 20% off. It was like a built-in employee discount, except I didn't have to work there. Their selection of products was good, too. I also patronized a comic shop in Escondido that had a frequent buyer program, wherein you'd pay $10 per year for a 20% break on certain comics and all gaming books.
I don't know how long I profited from these discounts, but eventually Dwarf Mountain went out of business. I don't know why, though it seemed that the other game stores in the area felt that whatever had happened had been well-deserved. Though the comic shop remained in business, the frequent buyer program was eventually revised. Instead of the membership fee and built-in discounts, it turned into a "buy $100 and get a $5 gift certificate" sort of program with stamps and cards used to track purchases.
The only other alternatives left to me was buying products online, or finding them used. Amazon.com offered substantial discounts for everything from CDs to books and movies, while another game store in San Diego (Game Empire) had a pretty hefty selection of used products. Between the two, I kept my collection growing despite the fact that my financial obligations had continued to grow year after year.
These days, I still buy the lion's share of my products online. I don't buy all of them online; I do patronize a FLGS, but I usually only buy card and board games there since the RPG selection isn't very good: they only stock the RPGs that sell well, which means D&D and NWoD. I buy all my D&D books on Amazon, and I don't play NWoD. I've asked about other titles, but they're not willing to stock them.
I'm not averse to paying full price for products at local game shops, but the discounts I get online, combined with the lack of incentives and poor customer service I've experienced at the larger stores, guarantee that Amazon will continue to get my money for years to come. There's also the question of travel: outside of the smallish store nearby with its limited stock of RPGs, the rest of the stores are thirty (or more) minutes away by car. The price of gasoline and the time it takes to drive there and back definitely add into the equation.
So, back to the question of expense. Are RPGs too pricey? Let's reckon that the typical hard cover book with 220 full-color pages runs $30. Individually, this doesn't seem like a lot when you consider that the book might contribute to hours of entertainment for you and your friends for years to come.
Compare this to a computer or console game title, which routinely runs $40 to $60. Unless the game has a lot of replay value, it's more than likely that I'll play through it and put it away once I've completed it (or been defeated by it). Say I spend 30 hours to beat a $40 game. That comes out to about $1.30 per hour, just for my own entertainment.
If I use a given $30 RPG book in a campaign that lasts for five six-hour sessions with a group of five players (myself included), that comes out to $1.00 per hour (or $0.20 per player per hour). Given that I will continue to use the book for years to come, so long as I'm still playing the RPG in question, it will probably end up paying for itself. Compared to the console game that I will only play once, or maybe twice, before I shelve it, I think that's a pretty good deal.
It's not that simple, I know. Role-playing games aren't designed with the one-time purchase in mind. Each product line must grow and evolve in order to maintain some measure of profitability. I choose to buy a good deal of these books, especially those that pertain to the games and settings that I enjoy, as well as the ones that I do freelance work for.
Other players who don't have the professional interest that I do will obviously have a different outlook. To them, the $30 per book benchmark might seem like a lot of money to spend. Casual players, especially, might only ever buy one book (core rules for a system, perhaps). In that case, I think the value per dollar of RPG books is a matter of opinion. My opinion is that the prices of books, taken together as a whole, can be quite intimidating. If, like me, you try to maintain an up-to-date collection of 2 to 3 titles/product lines, it will entail a significant investment for anyone.
In my experience, virtually any hobby requires a significant investment of money and time. Anything from riding dirt bikes, to collecting stamps, fishing, reading books, or going to the movies will end up costing you a hefty sum in the long term. I know people who don't bat an eye when they pay $50 for a pair of shoes, a purse, or a meal in a fine restaurant, but will look at me like I'm crazy if I mention the cover price of my Player's Handbook...
Five or six years ago, I might have answered "yes" to both of those questions. It didn't stop me from buying books and other gaming products, though. I've always found ways to keep my costs down, to look for the best bargain I could find.
There was a time, many years ago, when I worked at a local game shop for $5.75 an hour. As an employee, I had a 20% discount on anything I bought from the store. Needless to say, I sunk about half of my income into the store, and came away with a stack of books over the course of my 13 month stint in retail. The fact that I still lived at home in those days, without rent or a plethora of bills and expenses hanging over my head, was partly to blame.
After leaving the game store for a more profitable position with a company in the manufacuring industry, I was no longer privy to that employee discount. In fact, after spending 5 days a week for over a year in the store, I rarely paid my old employer a visit. I suppose I could've gone down and begged my old co-workers to ring me up with their discount, but that seemed ill-mannered.
Instead, I started to patronize a store down in Clairemont called Dwarf Mountain. Dwarf Mountain discounted everything, even CCGs and miniatures, at 20% off. It was like a built-in employee discount, except I didn't have to work there. Their selection of products was good, too. I also patronized a comic shop in Escondido that had a frequent buyer program, wherein you'd pay $10 per year for a 20% break on certain comics and all gaming books.
I don't know how long I profited from these discounts, but eventually Dwarf Mountain went out of business. I don't know why, though it seemed that the other game stores in the area felt that whatever had happened had been well-deserved. Though the comic shop remained in business, the frequent buyer program was eventually revised. Instead of the membership fee and built-in discounts, it turned into a "buy $100 and get a $5 gift certificate" sort of program with stamps and cards used to track purchases.
The only other alternatives left to me was buying products online, or finding them used. Amazon.com offered substantial discounts for everything from CDs to books and movies, while another game store in San Diego (Game Empire) had a pretty hefty selection of used products. Between the two, I kept my collection growing despite the fact that my financial obligations had continued to grow year after year.
These days, I still buy the lion's share of my products online. I don't buy all of them online; I do patronize a FLGS, but I usually only buy card and board games there since the RPG selection isn't very good: they only stock the RPGs that sell well, which means D&D and NWoD. I buy all my D&D books on Amazon, and I don't play NWoD. I've asked about other titles, but they're not willing to stock them.
I'm not averse to paying full price for products at local game shops, but the discounts I get online, combined with the lack of incentives and poor customer service I've experienced at the larger stores, guarantee that Amazon will continue to get my money for years to come. There's also the question of travel: outside of the smallish store nearby with its limited stock of RPGs, the rest of the stores are thirty (or more) minutes away by car. The price of gasoline and the time it takes to drive there and back definitely add into the equation.
So, back to the question of expense. Are RPGs too pricey? Let's reckon that the typical hard cover book with 220 full-color pages runs $30. Individually, this doesn't seem like a lot when you consider that the book might contribute to hours of entertainment for you and your friends for years to come.
Compare this to a computer or console game title, which routinely runs $40 to $60. Unless the game has a lot of replay value, it's more than likely that I'll play through it and put it away once I've completed it (or been defeated by it). Say I spend 30 hours to beat a $40 game. That comes out to about $1.30 per hour, just for my own entertainment.
If I use a given $30 RPG book in a campaign that lasts for five six-hour sessions with a group of five players (myself included), that comes out to $1.00 per hour (or $0.20 per player per hour). Given that I will continue to use the book for years to come, so long as I'm still playing the RPG in question, it will probably end up paying for itself. Compared to the console game that I will only play once, or maybe twice, before I shelve it, I think that's a pretty good deal.
It's not that simple, I know. Role-playing games aren't designed with the one-time purchase in mind. Each product line must grow and evolve in order to maintain some measure of profitability. I choose to buy a good deal of these books, especially those that pertain to the games and settings that I enjoy, as well as the ones that I do freelance work for.
Other players who don't have the professional interest that I do will obviously have a different outlook. To them, the $30 per book benchmark might seem like a lot of money to spend. Casual players, especially, might only ever buy one book (core rules for a system, perhaps). In that case, I think the value per dollar of RPG books is a matter of opinion. My opinion is that the prices of books, taken together as a whole, can be quite intimidating. If, like me, you try to maintain an up-to-date collection of 2 to 3 titles/product lines, it will entail a significant investment for anyone.
In my experience, virtually any hobby requires a significant investment of money and time. Anything from riding dirt bikes, to collecting stamps, fishing, reading books, or going to the movies will end up costing you a hefty sum in the long term. I know people who don't bat an eye when they pay $50 for a pair of shoes, a purse, or a meal in a fine restaurant, but will look at me like I'm crazy if I mention the cover price of my Player's Handbook...
10 January 2007
Thieves' World Gift Set
This month, Green Ronin is releasing the Thieves' World Gift Set: a ginormous set of five books dedicated to gaming in Sanctuary. Along with the original titles in the series, it also contains an exclusive fifth: Black Snake Dawn, an adventure set entirely in Rankan-era Sanctuary. The asking price is $100, which is a great deal.Also, looks as if anyone who preorders the Gift Set will receive an added bonus: a book plate signed by Lynn Abbey.
For more information, check this link.
07 January 2007
New Year's Sushi
Last week, on New Year's Eve, Amy and I (and the boy) drove down to San Diego and picked up some sushi fixin's. Our typical shopping trip includes cucumber, avocado, masago, nori, and sashimi-grade tuna. We also needed some Japanese mayonaise, which is a little sweeter than the American variety. As it is, we've got plenty of rice, vinegar, and hot sauce in the cupboard.
The market we go to is down in Clairmont, called Mitsuwa, is an Asian market that sells all manner of Japanese foods, not to mention books, magazines, videos, and just about anything else you can think of. As it was New Year's Eve, the place was packed when we got there. We managed to get in and out pretty quickly, and once back to the car we packed our fish and masago in our portable cooler to make sure it stayed nice and fresh.
Once home, with Stephen in a much-needed nap, Amy went about the chore of making sushi rice. I don't remember all the steps required to do this, but I know it involves rinsing the rise mutliple times, steaming it, and mixing it with rice vinegar and other stuff in a special wooden tub called a hangiri.
Later in the evening, Amy got to making the rolls. We enjoyed California rolls and spicy tuna rolls. All told, we spent about $15 on fish and ended up with five whole rolls (with leftovers!). Anyone who goes out for sushi knows that $15 will usually buy you one or two rolls, depending on where you prefer to go. There is a certain savings involved, though it is also a lot of work (though not as much work as baking cookies).
So, without further ado, I present what Nikchick refers to as "food porn": pictures of Amy's sushi rolls. We plated them on some sushi plates that our friends JD and Keri gave us for Christmas.
California Rolls with Masago
Given that fish was involved, we had plenty of interest from our cats. The chili sauce used in the spicy tuna rolls wasn't their idea of good eats, though, so the felines were held at bay somewhat.
Hastur Presents: Spicy Tuna Rolls
As we ate our sushi dinner, we watched one of the DVDs we received for Christmas: The 'Burbs. An awesome movie, if I do say so myself, though probably not to everyone's tastes. We were in bed before midnight, but I do recall hearing some firecrackers at the midnight hour's passing. It's odd, because only a few years ago, I would've insisted on drinking to excess and staying up until midnight on New Year's Eve. I guess I've outgrown such indulgences...
The market we go to is down in Clairmont, called Mitsuwa, is an Asian market that sells all manner of Japanese foods, not to mention books, magazines, videos, and just about anything else you can think of. As it was New Year's Eve, the place was packed when we got there. We managed to get in and out pretty quickly, and once back to the car we packed our fish and masago in our portable cooler to make sure it stayed nice and fresh.
Once home, with Stephen in a much-needed nap, Amy went about the chore of making sushi rice. I don't remember all the steps required to do this, but I know it involves rinsing the rise mutliple times, steaming it, and mixing it with rice vinegar and other stuff in a special wooden tub called a hangiri.
Later in the evening, Amy got to making the rolls. We enjoyed California rolls and spicy tuna rolls. All told, we spent about $15 on fish and ended up with five whole rolls (with leftovers!). Anyone who goes out for sushi knows that $15 will usually buy you one or two rolls, depending on where you prefer to go. There is a certain savings involved, though it is also a lot of work (though not as much work as baking cookies).
So, without further ado, I present what Nikchick refers to as "food porn": pictures of Amy's sushi rolls. We plated them on some sushi plates that our friends JD and Keri gave us for Christmas.
Given that fish was involved, we had plenty of interest from our cats. The chili sauce used in the spicy tuna rolls wasn't their idea of good eats, though, so the felines were held at bay somewhat.
As we ate our sushi dinner, we watched one of the DVDs we received for Christmas: The 'Burbs. An awesome movie, if I do say so myself, though probably not to everyone's tastes. We were in bed before midnight, but I do recall hearing some firecrackers at the midnight hour's passing. It's odd, because only a few years ago, I would've insisted on drinking to excess and staying up until midnight on New Year's Eve. I guess I've outgrown such indulgences...
03 January 2007
Happy (Belated) New Year
I've been lax lately, blog-wise. Not much to say, really. The holidays are behind me, which means that I should have more time. Theoretically. At least until the new baby arrives, sometime around February/March. All bets are off then.
Haven't done a lick of gaming lately, unless you count the occasional card game. Schedules have been too conflicted to schedule anything meaningful. Given that one of my regular players has consigned himself to a life of servitude in a Starbucks that is part of a local B&N, I wonder how much we'll be seeing of him in '07.
I've been reading a little, though. Picked up Expedition to Castle Ravenloft with an Amazon gift certificate, and I'm liking what I see enough to consider running it. I'm not generally a fan of published adventures (unless I'm mining them for ideas), but this one seems flexible enough that I might enjoy it. I'll probably put my own spin on things.
The Liberty game is gearing to start up again, so at least I'll be playing something...
As far as work (meaning writing, as opposed to the orthodontic salt mine), things are in stasis presently. I've got a project or two promised to me later this year, but no dates are set yet. I do have some rules that I need to finish reading. Outside of that, I get to hurry up and wait. I'm wondering if I should beat the bushes a little bit, but I also know that once I get something else lined up, all Hell will break loose with my current obligations and I'll be swamped.
Then again...I'd sort of like to be swamped. It either means that I'm in demand, or that I'm too stupid to say no to a project. Or, more than likely, both are equally applicable.
I've got some photos I need to download off the camera so that I can properly document the holidaze on my Freelance Father blog.
The boy is now three months from turning two, and he's definitely showing signs of terrible twoness. I was naive to think that my son would be different somehow, that the terrible twos were for other children and not my own. I was mistaken. Life is now a near-constant struggle with the child for dominance, punctuated by much cuteness and love (which makes it hard to stay annoyed for long). His favorite word is "no," and any question posed to him is answered the same way.
"Do you want a bath?"
"No."
"Do you want to read a book?"
"No."
"Can you say 'car'?"
"No."
"Can you say 'no'?"
"No!"
You get the point.
I also seem to be developing a case of the Christmas Crud, which (I'm sure) is closely related to Con Crud. My co-workers have been sick and feverish, which means that I, too, will probably grow sick and feverish in short order thanks to the germ mill. I made a comment to a co-worker last week that it seemed to me that the only people who were in the office were the sick ones. Everyone else was on vacation or holiday. Except me, condemned soul that I am.
Haven't done a lick of gaming lately, unless you count the occasional card game. Schedules have been too conflicted to schedule anything meaningful. Given that one of my regular players has consigned himself to a life of servitude in a Starbucks that is part of a local B&N, I wonder how much we'll be seeing of him in '07.
I've been reading a little, though. Picked up Expedition to Castle Ravenloft with an Amazon gift certificate, and I'm liking what I see enough to consider running it. I'm not generally a fan of published adventures (unless I'm mining them for ideas), but this one seems flexible enough that I might enjoy it. I'll probably put my own spin on things.
The Liberty game is gearing to start up again, so at least I'll be playing something...
As far as work (meaning writing, as opposed to the orthodontic salt mine), things are in stasis presently. I've got a project or two promised to me later this year, but no dates are set yet. I do have some rules that I need to finish reading. Outside of that, I get to hurry up and wait. I'm wondering if I should beat the bushes a little bit, but I also know that once I get something else lined up, all Hell will break loose with my current obligations and I'll be swamped.
Then again...I'd sort of like to be swamped. It either means that I'm in demand, or that I'm too stupid to say no to a project. Or, more than likely, both are equally applicable.
I've got some photos I need to download off the camera so that I can properly document the holidaze on my Freelance Father blog.
The boy is now three months from turning two, and he's definitely showing signs of terrible twoness. I was naive to think that my son would be different somehow, that the terrible twos were for other children and not my own. I was mistaken. Life is now a near-constant struggle with the child for dominance, punctuated by much cuteness and love (which makes it hard to stay annoyed for long). His favorite word is "no," and any question posed to him is answered the same way.
"Do you want a bath?"
"No."
"Do you want to read a book?"
"No."
"Can you say 'car'?"
"No."
"Can you say 'no'?"
"No!"
You get the point.
I also seem to be developing a case of the Christmas Crud, which (I'm sure) is closely related to Con Crud. My co-workers have been sick and feverish, which means that I, too, will probably grow sick and feverish in short order thanks to the germ mill. I made a comment to a co-worker last week that it seemed to me that the only people who were in the office were the sick ones. Everyone else was on vacation or holiday. Except me, condemned soul that I am.
19 December 2006
A Quick Post
Saturday morning, I took care of Christmas cards, under the watchful eye of the boy. He divided his attention between the television and myself, until it was time to wake up mommy (one of his favorite activities, right up there with waking up daddy). All in all, it took me a long time to get the cards done, and even then, I didn't get them mailed until Sunday night (which really equates to mailing them on Monday, anyway).
About three years ago, we started writing a holiday letter (thanks to Lynn for the inspiration) to include in our cards. The letter only goes to people who might have some interest in our family life. Further, close friends, who already know the details, might also be spared the letter. After all, they see us all the time, so I don't think they need a recap of our boring lives.
The holiday letter, printed and folded into quarters, was done. But wait, there's more. I am one of those people who can't just put a blank card with a holiday letter into an envelope. No, I have to sign and inscribe a message into each individual card, tailored to whomever the recipient(s) happen to be. This, of course, takes even more time.
So, yeah, they're mailed. If you don't get one and you think that you should, send me your address (because I probably don't have it!).
Saturday evening was Amy's company Christmas party. We ate at a place called "When In Rome," which is in Encinitas. It's a somewhat upscale Italian restaurant, very good food. I had an Italian beer (can't recall the name) and a glass (or two) of Merlot. I'm not normally a wine person, and I immediately understood why when I'd taken a sip of the stuff. Dinner consisted of four choices (lamb shank, sea bass, stuffed chicken breast, or filet mignon), plus a salad course, a pasta course, and dessert.
It was a good night, even though we had to leave early to rescue my parents from my son (who is well into the swing of the terrible twos).
Sunday. I had plans for Sunday, but none of them came to fruition. Instead, I ran errands. Grocery shopping, primarily, since the cupboards were bare and we needed supplies for baking. We'll be making cookies this week, though I don't know how many we'll bake, or if we'll even ship any out. I'll also be making banana bread tonight or tomorrow night. It's a big hit with my co-workers, so I reckon I shouldn't disappoint.
It's well past time for me to ready myself for work. More later...
About three years ago, we started writing a holiday letter (thanks to Lynn for the inspiration) to include in our cards. The letter only goes to people who might have some interest in our family life. Further, close friends, who already know the details, might also be spared the letter. After all, they see us all the time, so I don't think they need a recap of our boring lives.
The holiday letter, printed and folded into quarters, was done. But wait, there's more. I am one of those people who can't just put a blank card with a holiday letter into an envelope. No, I have to sign and inscribe a message into each individual card, tailored to whomever the recipient(s) happen to be. This, of course, takes even more time.
So, yeah, they're mailed. If you don't get one and you think that you should, send me your address (because I probably don't have it!).
Saturday evening was Amy's company Christmas party. We ate at a place called "When In Rome," which is in Encinitas. It's a somewhat upscale Italian restaurant, very good food. I had an Italian beer (can't recall the name) and a glass (or two) of Merlot. I'm not normally a wine person, and I immediately understood why when I'd taken a sip of the stuff. Dinner consisted of four choices (lamb shank, sea bass, stuffed chicken breast, or filet mignon), plus a salad course, a pasta course, and dessert.
It was a good night, even though we had to leave early to rescue my parents from my son (who is well into the swing of the terrible twos).
Sunday. I had plans for Sunday, but none of them came to fruition. Instead, I ran errands. Grocery shopping, primarily, since the cupboards were bare and we needed supplies for baking. We'll be making cookies this week, though I don't know how many we'll bake, or if we'll even ship any out. I'll also be making banana bread tonight or tomorrow night. It's a big hit with my co-workers, so I reckon I shouldn't disappoint.
It's well past time for me to ready myself for work. More later...
07 December 2006
Getting to Know Your Friends (Holiday Edition)
Holiday Edition of Getting to Know Your Friends
Welcome to the 2006 Holiday Edition of Getting to Know Your Friends! You know the drill. Highlight, copy, and paste and change my answers to your answers.
1. Egg Nog or Hot Chocolate?
(Mexican) Hot chocolate. With bourbon.
2. Does Santa wrap presents, or just sit them under the tree?
He wraps them. Or, rather, we wrap them. I can't imagine having unwrapped presents under the tree.
3. Colored lights on tree/house or white?
White.
4. Do you hang mistletoe?
Nope. It's poisonous to cats, AFAIK.
5. When do you put your decorations up?
As soon as we get the tree, usually mid-December.
6. What is your favorite holiday dish (excluding dessert)?
Ham.
7. Favorite Holiday memory as a child:
Getting a bunch of plastic machine guns and military gear from Santa, and then (make-believe) shooting my friends with them. We were all army brats, so violence came naturally to us.
8. When and how did you learn the truth about Santa?
I don’t remember, but we never had a chimney anyway until we moved to California.
9. Do you open a gift on Christmas Eve?
At my grandparents’ house, yes. At home, no.
10. How do you decorate your Christmas tree?
White lights, ornaments.
11. Snow! Love it or Dread it?
Love it, but haven't had to live with it for a quarter of a century.
12. Can you ice skate?
Sort of. I'm much better at sprawling.
13. Do you remember your favorite gift?
I got a big, black trenchcoat one year that I wore almost daily throughout high school.
14. What's the most important thing about the Holidays for you?
My son.
15. What is your favorite Holiday Dessert?
Pecan pie, though we make these peanut butter/chocolate cookies that are wicked good.
16. What is your favorite holiday tradition?
Decorating the tree.
17. Which do you prefer: giving or receiving?
Both are nice.
18. What is your favorite Christmas Song?
"Jingle Bells, Batman smells, Robin laid an egg..."
19. Candy Canes! Yuck or Yum?
Yum.
Happy Holidays!!
Welcome to the 2006 Holiday Edition of Getting to Know Your Friends! You know the drill. Highlight, copy, and paste and change my answers to your answers.
1. Egg Nog or Hot Chocolate?
(Mexican) Hot chocolate. With bourbon.
2. Does Santa wrap presents, or just sit them under the tree?
He wraps them. Or, rather, we wrap them. I can't imagine having unwrapped presents under the tree.
3. Colored lights on tree/house or white?
White.
4. Do you hang mistletoe?
Nope. It's poisonous to cats, AFAIK.
5. When do you put your decorations up?
As soon as we get the tree, usually mid-December.
6. What is your favorite holiday dish (excluding dessert)?
Ham.
7. Favorite Holiday memory as a child:
Getting a bunch of plastic machine guns and military gear from Santa, and then (make-believe) shooting my friends with them. We were all army brats, so violence came naturally to us.
8. When and how did you learn the truth about Santa?
I don’t remember, but we never had a chimney anyway until we moved to California.
9. Do you open a gift on Christmas Eve?
At my grandparents’ house, yes. At home, no.
10. How do you decorate your Christmas tree?
White lights, ornaments.
11. Snow! Love it or Dread it?
Love it, but haven't had to live with it for a quarter of a century.
12. Can you ice skate?
Sort of. I'm much better at sprawling.
13. Do you remember your favorite gift?
I got a big, black trenchcoat one year that I wore almost daily throughout high school.
14. What's the most important thing about the Holidays for you?
My son.
15. What is your favorite Holiday Dessert?
Pecan pie, though we make these peanut butter/chocolate cookies that are wicked good.
16. What is your favorite holiday tradition?
Decorating the tree.
17. Which do you prefer: giving or receiving?
Both are nice.
18. What is your favorite Christmas Song?
"Jingle Bells, Batman smells, Robin laid an egg..."
19. Candy Canes! Yuck or Yum?
Yum.
Happy Holidays!!
06 December 2006
Ord Vaxal Revisited
My first paid publication was Ord Vaxal: Prison Planet of the Empire, which appeared in the Polyhedron portion of Dungeon #106. I was doing a little vanity searching today, with "Ord Vaxal" as the search item, and I came up with a couple of cool links that I wanted to share.
The first is Jeff Carlisle's site. Jeff did some of the art for the article, including the map of Tof Soren (which must've been based on the hand-scribbled map I'd originally submitted with the article). He's got some of that art posted on his site (including the aforementioned map). Check it out.
The second site that came up belongs to a fellow who goes by the moniker Jedime, and he creates custom Star Wars action figures. One of those figures, viewable here, is one of Tof Soren's peacekeepers. I am quite amused.
The first is Jeff Carlisle's site. Jeff did some of the art for the article, including the map of Tof Soren (which must've been based on the hand-scribbled map I'd originally submitted with the article). He's got some of that art posted on his site (including the aforementioned map). Check it out.
The second site that came up belongs to a fellow who goes by the moniker Jedime, and he creates custom Star Wars action figures. One of those figures, viewable here, is one of Tof Soren's peacekeepers. I am quite amused.
05 December 2006
Latest Player Type Quiz
JD asked us to take this test, so I went ahead and did it. This isn't the same one I took back in July, and my ratings between the two show a little variation.
So here goes...
You scored as Storyteller. The Storyteller is in it for the plot: the sense of mystery and the fun of participating in a narrative that has the satisfying arc of a good book or movie. He enjoys interacting with well-defined NPCs, even preferring antagonists who have genuine motivations and personality to mere monsters. To the Storyteller, the greatest reward of the game is participating in a compelling story with interesting and unpredictable plot threads, in which his actions and those of his fellow characters determine the resolution.
With apologies to Robin Laws.
What RPG Player (Not Character) Type Are You?
created with QuizFarm.com
So here goes...
You scored as Storyteller. The Storyteller is in it for the plot: the sense of mystery and the fun of participating in a narrative that has the satisfying arc of a good book or movie. He enjoys interacting with well-defined NPCs, even preferring antagonists who have genuine motivations and personality to mere monsters. To the Storyteller, the greatest reward of the game is participating in a compelling story with interesting and unpredictable plot threads, in which his actions and those of his fellow characters determine the resolution.
With apologies to Robin Laws.
Storyteller | 75% | ||
Character Player | 75% | ||
Tactician | 65% | ||
Casual Gamer | 50% | ||
Weekend Warrior | 40% | ||
Power Gamer | 25% | ||
Specialist | 10% |
What RPG Player (Not Character) Type Are You?
created with QuizFarm.com
04 December 2006
Cyberpunk Triggertime
We had the crew over on Saturday evening for Cyberpunk, but we didn't play. Two of the PCs had to be finished, and the other two needed to finalize equipment. We mostly BS'd and prepped for the next session, which (God willing) will be the 17th. Yeah, a Sunday, I know, but with the holidays approaching, gaming is going to take a back seat to Christmas carols, Yule logs, and eggnog.
I finally got to play out a game of War of the Ring, too. We overlooked a couple of rules here or there which might have contributed to Sauron's victory over the free peoples, but we'll know better next time. Overall impression: it's a good, good game. The event cards really add a lot to the game's mood, while at the same time being useful.
At first blush, it seems that the Free Peoples have the crap end of the stick. For the most part, their forces are scattered and underpowered, they have fewer action dice, and the Shadow has a lot of units. As I played (as Sauron), I began to realize that I had a few distinct problems. For one, aside from the four Nazgul I started with, I didn't have any leaders. Between the members of the Fellowship and numerous leader figures, the Free Peoples have a lot of leadership to spread around.
What leaders do is allow for re-rolls after combat. Say you roll your dice to attack, and you have two leaders in your army. This means you get to re-roll two (or more, in the case of some of the companions) of your failed combat dice. Aside from the Nazgul (each of which has a Leadership of 1), the Shadow only has three other figures with any sort of Leadership: Saruman (who can't leave Orthanc at all), the Witch King (who activates all Free People nations when he comes out), and the Mouth of Sauron (who only appears if all the Free People nations are At War).
This means that you have to use action dice to juggle the Nazgul around if you want one or more leader re-rolls, which takes time away from actually moving and attacking. Plus, a lot of the Shadow's combat cards require one or more Nazgul to be present in the combat before you can use them.
There are a bunch of event cards that the Free Peoples' player can get that are a real kick in the goonies, too. For instance, Robert pulled a card that had the Ents tearing down Orthanc. I didn't expect it, and since I only had a single unit there in reserve (along with Saruman), the day ended with Saruman dead. Quite a blow, indeed, especially when combined with my losing Dol Guldur due to an invasion of dwarves from the north.
The victory was purely military on my part. I pressed the advantage of numbers, which is pretty much all I had past a certain point. I massed a lot of forces around Minas Tirith, but that was more of a decoy meant to keep Robert busy reinforcing the city while I set my sites on Rivendell (the defeat of which ultimately won me the game).
Next time, I want to try my hand at the Free Peoples. I see some potential in one or two military strategies, but they're risky and will require a lot of luck.
Anyway, time to go back to work.
I finally got to play out a game of War of the Ring, too. We overlooked a couple of rules here or there which might have contributed to Sauron's victory over the free peoples, but we'll know better next time. Overall impression: it's a good, good game. The event cards really add a lot to the game's mood, while at the same time being useful.
At first blush, it seems that the Free Peoples have the crap end of the stick. For the most part, their forces are scattered and underpowered, they have fewer action dice, and the Shadow has a lot of units. As I played (as Sauron), I began to realize that I had a few distinct problems. For one, aside from the four Nazgul I started with, I didn't have any leaders. Between the members of the Fellowship and numerous leader figures, the Free Peoples have a lot of leadership to spread around.
What leaders do is allow for re-rolls after combat. Say you roll your dice to attack, and you have two leaders in your army. This means you get to re-roll two (or more, in the case of some of the companions) of your failed combat dice. Aside from the Nazgul (each of which has a Leadership of 1), the Shadow only has three other figures with any sort of Leadership: Saruman (who can't leave Orthanc at all), the Witch King (who activates all Free People nations when he comes out), and the Mouth of Sauron (who only appears if all the Free People nations are At War).
This means that you have to use action dice to juggle the Nazgul around if you want one or more leader re-rolls, which takes time away from actually moving and attacking. Plus, a lot of the Shadow's combat cards require one or more Nazgul to be present in the combat before you can use them.
There are a bunch of event cards that the Free Peoples' player can get that are a real kick in the goonies, too. For instance, Robert pulled a card that had the Ents tearing down Orthanc. I didn't expect it, and since I only had a single unit there in reserve (along with Saruman), the day ended with Saruman dead. Quite a blow, indeed, especially when combined with my losing Dol Guldur due to an invasion of dwarves from the north.
The victory was purely military on my part. I pressed the advantage of numbers, which is pretty much all I had past a certain point. I massed a lot of forces around Minas Tirith, but that was more of a decoy meant to keep Robert busy reinforcing the city while I set my sites on Rivendell (the defeat of which ultimately won me the game).
Next time, I want to try my hand at the Free Peoples. I see some potential in one or two military strategies, but they're risky and will require a lot of luck.
Anyway, time to go back to work.
02 December 2006
Weekend Report
The long week has passed me by, and it's finally Saturday morning.
My big box came from Fantasy Flight on Thursday, but I didn't pick it up until yesterday. One of the games I ordered was missing, but I contacted FFG and they're sending me a replacement.
I don't know when we'll get around to trying these games out, but they all seem to be pretty nifty. Going over what I picked up...
The three Horizon books that I was missing. For those of you who don't know, Horizon was a line of mini-RPGs released by FFG using the d20 mechanics. They're all of them pretty neat, and easily mined for cool ideas if you don't intend to use them as games unto themselves. I already had Grimm and Redline. The three I was missing include MechaMorphosis, Spellslinger, and Virtual.
MechaMorphosis is a thinly-veiled adaptation of the Transformers. It's pretty cool. It's a bit mechanics-heavy, but seems playable nonetheless.
Spellslinger is fantasy meets Old West. It's not historical (or even quasi-historical, like Deadlands), and is more akin to a fantasy setting that is derivative of Western cliches. Overall, I like it, though there are only three character classes available.
The last one, Virtual, is a lot line Tron, where the PCs portray programs. My first impression of the game is favorable, but I have yet to delve too deeply into the rules and setting.
The rest of the games I bought were board games. I've wanted to pick up the Lord of the Rings Trivia Game for a long time, but I was somewhat hesitant to spend the full retail price on a game I doubt I'd ever get to play. You see, I'm not exactly a LotR expert, but I'm probably a little more knowledgable than the average Joe. Still, for $10, I couldn't say no.
The rest of the games I bought were in FFG's "Silver Line." They're small format board games, which is nice -- they don't take up the same kind of space as a full-sized game.
The first of these is Arena Maximus, which is a game about chariot racing. The track is laid out randomly using tiles, with segments being revealed as the players race their chariots. This is probably the one I'd like to try out first.
The second was Kingdoms. I'm not sure if this is going to be a good game or not, but given that it was written by Reiner Knizia, I figure it's got to be decent.
Number three is Magdar. The premise is similar to the tale of Moria from Lord of the Rings. The players are miners (dwarves, I think) who are digging for Mithril. If they dig too deeply, they end up disturbing Magdar, a demon. I reckon all bets are off once this occurs.
Scarab Lords is the fourth title, and it's also the one that wasn't in the box. Can't say too much about it, in that case, other than it sounded neat (which is why I bought it).
The fifth is Senator, which I picked up mostly for my wife. She likes all things Imperial Rome, and this one sounded right up her alley. Each player is a Roman senator who wants to become emperor. After Arena Maximus, this is probably the next on my list of games to try out.
Last of all, we've got Wreckage. The game pits players, who are driving Road Warrior-esque cars to destroy one another in an attempt to get all the gasoline. It seems to me that it's a bit closer to Car Wars, since you actually move your car around, and use an included ruler to measure range, etc. I'm interested in trying it out, but I don't know if anyone else I game with will be interested or not.
So that's my haul from the FFG sale. It's still going on, too.
Okay, what else for the weekend..? Cyberpunk tonight, for one. Which reminds me, I need to get some work done on that before the players show up tonight. Between the errands I need to run, I have a feeling it's going to be a busy day.
My big box came from Fantasy Flight on Thursday, but I didn't pick it up until yesterday. One of the games I ordered was missing, but I contacted FFG and they're sending me a replacement.
I don't know when we'll get around to trying these games out, but they all seem to be pretty nifty. Going over what I picked up...
The three Horizon books that I was missing. For those of you who don't know, Horizon was a line of mini-RPGs released by FFG using the d20 mechanics. They're all of them pretty neat, and easily mined for cool ideas if you don't intend to use them as games unto themselves. I already had Grimm and Redline. The three I was missing include MechaMorphosis, Spellslinger, and Virtual.MechaMorphosis is a thinly-veiled adaptation of the Transformers. It's pretty cool. It's a bit mechanics-heavy, but seems playable nonetheless.
Spellslinger is fantasy meets Old West. It's not historical (or even quasi-historical, like Deadlands), and is more akin to a fantasy setting that is derivative of Western cliches. Overall, I like it, though there are only three character classes available.
The last one, Virtual, is a lot line Tron, where the PCs portray programs. My first impression of the game is favorable, but I have yet to delve too deeply into the rules and setting.
The rest of the games I bought were board games. I've wanted to pick up the Lord of the Rings Trivia Game for a long time, but I was somewhat hesitant to spend the full retail price on a game I doubt I'd ever get to play. You see, I'm not exactly a LotR expert, but I'm probably a little more knowledgable than the average Joe. Still, for $10, I couldn't say no.
The rest of the games I bought were in FFG's "Silver Line." They're small format board games, which is nice -- they don't take up the same kind of space as a full-sized game.
The first of these is Arena Maximus, which is a game about chariot racing. The track is laid out randomly using tiles, with segments being revealed as the players race their chariots. This is probably the one I'd like to try out first.
The second was Kingdoms. I'm not sure if this is going to be a good game or not, but given that it was written by Reiner Knizia, I figure it's got to be decent.
Number three is Magdar. The premise is similar to the tale of Moria from Lord of the Rings. The players are miners (dwarves, I think) who are digging for Mithril. If they dig too deeply, they end up disturbing Magdar, a demon. I reckon all bets are off once this occurs.
Scarab Lords is the fourth title, and it's also the one that wasn't in the box. Can't say too much about it, in that case, other than it sounded neat (which is why I bought it).
The fifth is Senator, which I picked up mostly for my wife. She likes all things Imperial Rome, and this one sounded right up her alley. Each player is a Roman senator who wants to become emperor. After Arena Maximus, this is probably the next on my list of games to try out.
Last of all, we've got Wreckage. The game pits players, who are driving Road Warrior-esque cars to destroy one another in an attempt to get all the gasoline. It seems to me that it's a bit closer to Car Wars, since you actually move your car around, and use an included ruler to measure range, etc. I'm interested in trying it out, but I don't know if anyone else I game with will be interested or not.
So that's my haul from the FFG sale. It's still going on, too.
Okay, what else for the weekend..? Cyberpunk tonight, for one. Which reminds me, I need to get some work done on that before the players show up tonight. Between the errands I need to run, I have a feeling it's going to be a busy day.
30 November 2006
Seduction Quiz
This one seems to be floating around the internet at the moment. It's amusing.
I didn't think I was such a push-over. Maybe I should ask my wife to confirm...
I didn't think I was such a push-over. Maybe I should ask my wife to confirm...
28 November 2006
Dirty Laundry
No, no. I'm not about to make any sort of spectacular confession. Not without a lawyer present, anyway. I'm talking about dirty laundry, literally. Clothes so filthy and mired with grime and sweat that, given the right climate and a couple more weeks, they'd be able to walk (or slither) about by themselves.
Tonight's the night for dirty laundry. The magic trick, as you might know, is sometimes referred to as washing. This involves water, and a miraculous substance known as either soap or detergent. Where I live, washing takes place in a facility that houses about twenty mechanical washers and dryers. The washers wash, the dryers dry. Funny how that works, hm?
In order to get these contraptions to wash your clothes, you have to feed them hard currency. It costs $1.25 to wash a load of clothes, and another $0.75 to dry them. The entire process, from start to finish, probably takes about 90 minutes. It may seem like a monumental waste of time, but believe me: clean clothes are a necessity.
All joking aside, tonight is Tuesday. A small assignment has landed in my lap, due by the end of the week. Something to occupy my mind, finally. It doesn't pay, but it might lead to grander things in my future if I do it well enough to get noticed. Wish me luck.
I'm having the crew over to play Cyberpunk this weekend. I hope we can manage to get a little trigger time in. I've got the outline for the introductory session ready, but I need to get down to brass tacks. This means writing up NPC stats, all manner of descriptions, that sort of thing. Typical GM stuff.
It's been a long time since I've GMed anything. It feels like it's been forever, in fact. I know that it's like riding a bike, and that you never quite forget how it's done, but I still get to wondering if everything will click. Will the game bloom, or die?
Oh, and one more bit of news: Wizards has announced the impending release of Complete Champion on their web site. This is the one that I contributed to, the one I've been keeping under my hat this whole time. If you're feeling particularly generous, go to Amazon.com and pre-order a copy today.
Perceptive readers will notice that my name is not on the cover of the book. There is, I assure you, an explanation for this. Generally speaking, only four names fit on a book cover. I happen to be the fifth author, and my contribution was also the smallest. As this is a mere mock-up of the final product, there is a chance that my name will grace the exterior of the book with the rest of those talented folks. If not, I'll still have interior credit, for which I'm quite pleased.
An old friend of mine recently asked me if I'd ever like to write a novel. This question is not uncommon, coming from other people as well. The answer, plain and simple, is, "I don't know."
I'm sure that, someday, I'll be hit by a bolt of figurative lightning, and I'll leap up and shout, "Eureka!" Until then I'm happy to freelance, contributing my own thoughts and ideas to existing properties and product lines. If I decide to write a novel, and pursue its publication, I can only hope that my list of freelance publishing credits will help me to get my foot in the door, and lend some air of credibility to my work.
So that's it for now, folks. I've pontificated enough for one night. As always, I'm sure there will be more later on...
Tonight's the night for dirty laundry. The magic trick, as you might know, is sometimes referred to as washing. This involves water, and a miraculous substance known as either soap or detergent. Where I live, washing takes place in a facility that houses about twenty mechanical washers and dryers. The washers wash, the dryers dry. Funny how that works, hm?
In order to get these contraptions to wash your clothes, you have to feed them hard currency. It costs $1.25 to wash a load of clothes, and another $0.75 to dry them. The entire process, from start to finish, probably takes about 90 minutes. It may seem like a monumental waste of time, but believe me: clean clothes are a necessity.
All joking aside, tonight is Tuesday. A small assignment has landed in my lap, due by the end of the week. Something to occupy my mind, finally. It doesn't pay, but it might lead to grander things in my future if I do it well enough to get noticed. Wish me luck.
I'm having the crew over to play Cyberpunk this weekend. I hope we can manage to get a little trigger time in. I've got the outline for the introductory session ready, but I need to get down to brass tacks. This means writing up NPC stats, all manner of descriptions, that sort of thing. Typical GM stuff.
It's been a long time since I've GMed anything. It feels like it's been forever, in fact. I know that it's like riding a bike, and that you never quite forget how it's done, but I still get to wondering if everything will click. Will the game bloom, or die?
Oh, and one more bit of news: Wizards has announced the impending release of Complete Champion on their web site. This is the one that I contributed to, the one I've been keeping under my hat this whole time. If you're feeling particularly generous, go to Amazon.com and pre-order a copy today.Perceptive readers will notice that my name is not on the cover of the book. There is, I assure you, an explanation for this. Generally speaking, only four names fit on a book cover. I happen to be the fifth author, and my contribution was also the smallest. As this is a mere mock-up of the final product, there is a chance that my name will grace the exterior of the book with the rest of those talented folks. If not, I'll still have interior credit, for which I'm quite pleased.
An old friend of mine recently asked me if I'd ever like to write a novel. This question is not uncommon, coming from other people as well. The answer, plain and simple, is, "I don't know."
I'm sure that, someday, I'll be hit by a bolt of figurative lightning, and I'll leap up and shout, "Eureka!" Until then I'm happy to freelance, contributing my own thoughts and ideas to existing properties and product lines. If I decide to write a novel, and pursue its publication, I can only hope that my list of freelance publishing credits will help me to get my foot in the door, and lend some air of credibility to my work.
So that's it for now, folks. I've pontificated enough for one night. As always, I'm sure there will be more later on...
27 November 2006
Adios, Long Weekend
Wednesday afternoon, I sat on the cusp of a long-anticipated four-day weekend and thought, "Come Sunday night, I'm going to wonder where the weekend went."
Self-fulfilling prophecy, maybe?
It's Monday morning (or should that be "mourning"?), and I'm up at the crack of dawn to start another glorious week. You never realize how long a five-day stretch of work is until you've spent more than two or three days in a row off. The length of the week seems magnified, somehow, stretching off into an infinity of monotonous tasks. Tuesday arrives an eternity later, and you wonder, "Shouldn't it be Thursday by now?"
Another self-fulfilling prophecy, I reckon.
The long weekend, in retrospect, feels correspondingly long. Thursday including the usual turkey-gobbling with family. Friday was a day of errands, following by listless sloth on my part. Saturday, we drove about, spent a little bit of money, and enjoyed a meal out. Sunday, we cooked our own turkey after what seemed to be days of prep time, and shared it (as well as stuffing and mashed potatoes) with friends.
Having friends over last night, we decided to play some games. I finally got to give War of the Ring a shot; our pal Robert helped me on that account. It seems to take a long while to set up, and we had a few fits and starts as we read the rules between moves. I sat myself in the inimitable role of Sauron, while Rob played the miserable Free Peoples. My evil plans came to naught, however, because by the time we'd gotten the hang of things, it was time to clear the table for dinner.
Curse those meddling kids.
After dinner (which turned out quite well, thanks), my brother in law, Adam, as well as Rob and myself, tried out Cthulhu 500. We played that until my son went to bed, after which we pulled out the Lord of the Rings boardgame. With my wife included, we managed to account for four hobbits. The first two boards seemed easy, but Shelob's Lair messed us up good. By the time we'd made it to Mordor, it was a forgone conclusion that we were all going to die. A series of very bad tiles destroyed Sam (me), Pippin, and Merry, leaving Frodo to witness Sauron's ultimate victory first hand.
I've actually played in a game of Lord of the Rings where we made it to the end and destroyed the ring. I think this must've been a stroke of luck, because I can't imagine ever doing so again. As much as I enjoy the game, I have to wonder what the statistical odds of success are. They can't be high.
After the game ended, we kicked everyone out, cleaned up house, and went to bed. It was a late night, and here I am some six hours later, tired and somewhat maudlin about the long weekend that passed me by. Another two hours in a warm bed next to my wife sounds like some approximation of Heaven, but I'm too responsible to call in and make a half-assed excuse in order to delay the inevitable.
To the shower with me, and then to the orthodontic salt mine I go.
Self-fulfilling prophecy, maybe?
It's Monday morning (or should that be "mourning"?), and I'm up at the crack of dawn to start another glorious week. You never realize how long a five-day stretch of work is until you've spent more than two or three days in a row off. The length of the week seems magnified, somehow, stretching off into an infinity of monotonous tasks. Tuesday arrives an eternity later, and you wonder, "Shouldn't it be Thursday by now?"
Another self-fulfilling prophecy, I reckon.
The long weekend, in retrospect, feels correspondingly long. Thursday including the usual turkey-gobbling with family. Friday was a day of errands, following by listless sloth on my part. Saturday, we drove about, spent a little bit of money, and enjoyed a meal out. Sunday, we cooked our own turkey after what seemed to be days of prep time, and shared it (as well as stuffing and mashed potatoes) with friends.
Having friends over last night, we decided to play some games. I finally got to give War of the Ring a shot; our pal Robert helped me on that account. It seems to take a long while to set up, and we had a few fits and starts as we read the rules between moves. I sat myself in the inimitable role of Sauron, while Rob played the miserable Free Peoples. My evil plans came to naught, however, because by the time we'd gotten the hang of things, it was time to clear the table for dinner.
Curse those meddling kids.
After dinner (which turned out quite well, thanks), my brother in law, Adam, as well as Rob and myself, tried out Cthulhu 500. We played that until my son went to bed, after which we pulled out the Lord of the Rings boardgame. With my wife included, we managed to account for four hobbits. The first two boards seemed easy, but Shelob's Lair messed us up good. By the time we'd made it to Mordor, it was a forgone conclusion that we were all going to die. A series of very bad tiles destroyed Sam (me), Pippin, and Merry, leaving Frodo to witness Sauron's ultimate victory first hand.
I've actually played in a game of Lord of the Rings where we made it to the end and destroyed the ring. I think this must've been a stroke of luck, because I can't imagine ever doing so again. As much as I enjoy the game, I have to wonder what the statistical odds of success are. They can't be high.
After the game ended, we kicked everyone out, cleaned up house, and went to bed. It was a late night, and here I am some six hours later, tired and somewhat maudlin about the long weekend that passed me by. Another two hours in a warm bed next to my wife sounds like some approximation of Heaven, but I'm too responsible to call in and make a half-assed excuse in order to delay the inevitable.
To the shower with me, and then to the orthodontic salt mine I go.
22 November 2006
The Blues
I'm feeling incredibly glum today. It's little secret that I've been feeling glum a lot lately. There are a number of things on my mind, and while no single one can be blamed for my gloomy mood, taken together they present a formidable host.
I suppose I need to pull myself up by my bootstraps and make things happen. It's increasingly obvious that my problems aren't likely to solve themselves. Half of them, though, involve waiting for something that I am unable to otherwise hurry along. The other half might be solved by quick (or, at the least, imminent) action on my part.
Forgive me for not making a list of these issues. Some of the things on it will appear far too trivial to the average joe, I'm sure. It hardly helps that I'm tired. I must not be sleeping enough, or perhaps I'm getting old. I've come to appreciate a late morning or afternoon nap on the weekends. I fear that I will eventually find myself nodding off in movie theaters.
Thanksgiving is tomorrow. We're feasting with my family, as is the norm for this holiday. I look forward to four days away from the office, though I'm sure they will pass by all too quickly. I have little planned, aside from attending tomorrow's meal.
Incidentally, Fantasy Flight Games is having a holiday sale. Most items are available for $5, and this presents several good deals. I myself have succumbed to the temptation of cheap games. You can even buy the Fireborn books for $5 each, if you so choose. Even though I didn't write them, I must issue a heartfelt recommendation for the books in the Blue Planet line. You can pick up the entire series of Blue Planet books for $5 each, which is practically theft considering the high quality of the title.
Back to work...
I suppose I need to pull myself up by my bootstraps and make things happen. It's increasingly obvious that my problems aren't likely to solve themselves. Half of them, though, involve waiting for something that I am unable to otherwise hurry along. The other half might be solved by quick (or, at the least, imminent) action on my part.
Forgive me for not making a list of these issues. Some of the things on it will appear far too trivial to the average joe, I'm sure. It hardly helps that I'm tired. I must not be sleeping enough, or perhaps I'm getting old. I've come to appreciate a late morning or afternoon nap on the weekends. I fear that I will eventually find myself nodding off in movie theaters.
Thanksgiving is tomorrow. We're feasting with my family, as is the norm for this holiday. I look forward to four days away from the office, though I'm sure they will pass by all too quickly. I have little planned, aside from attending tomorrow's meal.
Incidentally, Fantasy Flight Games is having a holiday sale. Most items are available for $5, and this presents several good deals. I myself have succumbed to the temptation of cheap games. You can even buy the Fireborn books for $5 each, if you so choose. Even though I didn't write them, I must issue a heartfelt recommendation for the books in the Blue Planet line. You can pick up the entire series of Blue Planet books for $5 each, which is practically theft considering the high quality of the title.
Back to work...
21 November 2006
Box Office Hobbits
And so it appears that Peter Jackson will not be directing the movie adaptation of The Hobbit, after all. I am somewhat disappointed by this, as a live-action version of The Hobbit would be a spectacle, indeed. I’d be really interested to see a CGI Smaug in action.
I’ve been a fan of Peter Jackson’s for a long, long time, well before he was thrust into the limelight by his adaptation of LotR. Bad Taste was the first movie of his that I’d seen. While Dead Alive (titled Brain Dead everywhere but the USA, AFAIK) wasn’t really my cup of tea, I enjoyed both The Frighteners and Heavenly Creatures. Still haven’t seen Meet the Feebles, and King Kong, while pretty to look at, was somewhat long IMO.
I guess I appreciate his low-budget work more than his high-budget films. Don’t get me wrong, I respect his attempts to bring Tolkien’s world to life. He got a lot of it dead to rights, but I also feel that he got an awful lot wrong. I don’t want to go into specifics: this entry isn’t intended as an item-by-item critique of Jackson’s Lord of the Rings trilogy. We’ll save that for another time.
There’s been a serious lack of good live-action fantasy flicks. I can name but a handful that are, in my estimation, worthy: Conan the Barbarian, Krull, the Harry Potter films, Ladyhawke, Beastmaster, and Excalibur are but a few of my favorites. There are even some movies, such as The Sword and the Sorcerer, that I absolutely adore, but which are admittedly horrible when taken on their own.
Back to the topic of The Hobbit: I guess that New Line will recruit another director for the movie. I wonder who it will be? Will the fact that Jackson isn’t directing it detract from its success? Only time will tell.
On my to-do list: see Casino Royale. I’ve heard a lot of good things about the latest Bond flick, and I’d really like to get to the theater within the next few days and see it.
Oh, by the way, I did get to have breakfast with my friend Dave, and we talked a good deal about many things, especially Cyberpunk. Talking about it with him made me want to play it, dammit. I yearn for the old days. We had some good games back then, I tell you. I don’t know if they’d be good by today’s standards, but they definitely served a purpose, and they continue to live on in my memory.
So, yeah…we have to get Cyberpunk rolling, and soon.
I’ve been a fan of Peter Jackson’s for a long, long time, well before he was thrust into the limelight by his adaptation of LotR. Bad Taste was the first movie of his that I’d seen. While Dead Alive (titled Brain Dead everywhere but the USA, AFAIK) wasn’t really my cup of tea, I enjoyed both The Frighteners and Heavenly Creatures. Still haven’t seen Meet the Feebles, and King Kong, while pretty to look at, was somewhat long IMO.
I guess I appreciate his low-budget work more than his high-budget films. Don’t get me wrong, I respect his attempts to bring Tolkien’s world to life. He got a lot of it dead to rights, but I also feel that he got an awful lot wrong. I don’t want to go into specifics: this entry isn’t intended as an item-by-item critique of Jackson’s Lord of the Rings trilogy. We’ll save that for another time.
There’s been a serious lack of good live-action fantasy flicks. I can name but a handful that are, in my estimation, worthy: Conan the Barbarian, Krull, the Harry Potter films, Ladyhawke, Beastmaster, and Excalibur are but a few of my favorites. There are even some movies, such as The Sword and the Sorcerer, that I absolutely adore, but which are admittedly horrible when taken on their own.
Back to the topic of The Hobbit: I guess that New Line will recruit another director for the movie. I wonder who it will be? Will the fact that Jackson isn’t directing it detract from its success? Only time will tell.
On my to-do list: see Casino Royale. I’ve heard a lot of good things about the latest Bond flick, and I’d really like to get to the theater within the next few days and see it.
Oh, by the way, I did get to have breakfast with my friend Dave, and we talked a good deal about many things, especially Cyberpunk. Talking about it with him made me want to play it, dammit. I yearn for the old days. We had some good games back then, I tell you. I don’t know if they’d be good by today’s standards, but they definitely served a purpose, and they continue to live on in my memory.
So, yeah…we have to get Cyberpunk rolling, and soon.
17 November 2006
Video Game Quality
It's a good thing I got those XBox games cheap, I tell you.
Don't get me wrong, I've really enjoyed the Brothers in Arms titles (even though I think that they were a bit on the short side), and Midnight Club 3 is a lot of fun (I'd probably've paid full price for it, in fact). In the case of Medal of Honor: European Assault, though...I've played through the first scenario, and I've pretty much had it with the game.
As far as FPS games go, there's always a little bit to get used to. The controls, for instance: there are always minor variations on the way the controller is set up. I can deal with that. I have to say, though, that the Brothers in Arms games have spoiled me in relation to WWII-themed shooters. They're twenty times better than European Assault. Not to mention, European Assault is campy. The squad interface is primitive. The animations fall flat. The level of realism is pre-kindergarten (taking out a tank with a frag grenade? Pah-lease!).
I figured that, even with the silliness of the game, I could probably play through it and enjoy myself. I wasn't expecting much for my $10. The sad truth is, I can't. I'm going to yank the disc out of the XBox when I get home, slap it in its case, and put it up on the media rack to collect dust until I decide to give it or throw it away.
Anyway...
My Amazon order arrived yesterday. Pieces of Eight looks as neat as it looked at Gen Con. I can't wait to try it out, though I am a bit uncertain how I should stack my "deck" (as your coin-comprised "ship" is called). The instructions detail the different coins and their varied effects, but they don't provide any ideas or examples for how one should put a deck together. It's going to take some experimentation on my part to figure out what works.
Cthulhu 500 is going to be entertaining. It's a simple game that will be fun to try out. Maybe tonight.
Tomorrow, I'm going to try and see if I can do something about my radiator leak. I'm no vehicle expert, so I can't rightly say if it's fixable, or if I should just put a bullet in the car and be done with it. More on this mechanical enigma later on. Right now, I've got to clock in from lunch and get back to work. Huzzah.
Don't get me wrong, I've really enjoyed the Brothers in Arms titles (even though I think that they were a bit on the short side), and Midnight Club 3 is a lot of fun (I'd probably've paid full price for it, in fact). In the case of Medal of Honor: European Assault, though...I've played through the first scenario, and I've pretty much had it with the game.
As far as FPS games go, there's always a little bit to get used to. The controls, for instance: there are always minor variations on the way the controller is set up. I can deal with that. I have to say, though, that the Brothers in Arms games have spoiled me in relation to WWII-themed shooters. They're twenty times better than European Assault. Not to mention, European Assault is campy. The squad interface is primitive. The animations fall flat. The level of realism is pre-kindergarten (taking out a tank with a frag grenade? Pah-lease!).
I figured that, even with the silliness of the game, I could probably play through it and enjoy myself. I wasn't expecting much for my $10. The sad truth is, I can't. I'm going to yank the disc out of the XBox when I get home, slap it in its case, and put it up on the media rack to collect dust until I decide to give it or throw it away.
Anyway...
My Amazon order arrived yesterday. Pieces of Eight looks as neat as it looked at Gen Con. I can't wait to try it out, though I am a bit uncertain how I should stack my "deck" (as your coin-comprised "ship" is called). The instructions detail the different coins and their varied effects, but they don't provide any ideas or examples for how one should put a deck together. It's going to take some experimentation on my part to figure out what works.
Cthulhu 500 is going to be entertaining. It's a simple game that will be fun to try out. Maybe tonight.
Tomorrow, I'm going to try and see if I can do something about my radiator leak. I'm no vehicle expert, so I can't rightly say if it's fixable, or if I should just put a bullet in the car and be done with it. More on this mechanical enigma later on. Right now, I've got to clock in from lunch and get back to work. Huzzah.
15 November 2006
Soup Night
It's tortilla chicken soup night here at the Astleford household. I've been hard at work, slaving over a hot stove, since I got home. My wife is chasing my son around, making him laugh hysterically so that he can't stand up on his own. Soft music is playing on the stereo, and the paper cut from this morning's session of filing (at work) is screaming bloody murder because I got jalepeno juice (or salsa or something) in it.
Gen Con SoCal is not in the cards for this weekend. Sorry, folks, I just ain't doing it. My car has a radiator leak which, combined with its general unreliability as of late, precludes me from making the drive. Not that I would have gone were my car in tip-top shape; I'm sure I would've made some other excuse, either due to finances or (most likely) time.
This doesn't stop me from seeing a friend of mine on Sunday, though; a guy that I only see at conventions named Dave. Dave is an Aussie that I met at the very first Gen Con SoCal. He was a player in a massive Cyberpunk 2020 game that I was helping to run, and by chance I ended up moderating for his table towards the end of my evening out. I'm not sure when he noticed my name, but he recognized me instantly as "Ocelot," author of a handful of homebrew Cyberpunk articles from "back in the day."
As neat as it was to be recognized, it was also a bit uncomfortable. Granted, it would've been a heck of lot more uncomfortable if he'd expressed negative opinions about the design work I'd done in my youth. I managed to get over it, though, and he and I have since become friends. In the years following, he moved from Australia to the USA, and now lives a few scant hours away in the Arizona outback. On his way home Sunday, Dave plans to stop by my place, and we're going to head out for breakfast. It'll be good to talk with him again.
Aside from my car acting up, I also got the results of my latest blood test. Don't worry, folks, I'm not dying or anything. At least, not yet. In fact, I guess I'm pretty healthy for a fat guy who does little else but type all day. That is, except for the levels of triglycerides in my bloodstream. Who knew this stuff could kill you? So I'm going to be heading for a low-fat diet in a matter of days, which is pretty much what I've been doing for the past week or two, anyway. Not that I've noticed a difference.
This past weekend, I went to the first movie I've seen since V For Vendetta. I've been a big WWII buff for a while now, and I realized last week that Flags of Our Fathers had been out for a while. Overall, I enjoyed the movie. It was a good mixture of grueling battle scenes intermixed with a story that was somewhat removed from the rigors of war. I was especially interested in the film for two reasons. First off, my grandfather was a sailor aboard an LST that landed at Iwo Jima; and secondly, there have been few good "modern" films that center soley on the Pacific campaign.
By "good 'modern' films" exploring the Pacific aspect of the war, the only one I can really think of that I approved of was 1998's The Thin Red Line. I'm probably the only person I know who liked the movie, though, being as it was largely tropical eye-candy interspersed with the self-reflection of the characters and only sparsely populated with combat scenes. There have been other films, sure, but I consider the majority of them (including the banal, Titanicesque Pearl Harbor, and John Woo's overly fiery Windtalkers) to be cinematic crap.
If you can think of other worthy "modern" Pacific theatre WWII flicks, by all means, let me know.
Okay, so past that, what else is up? Hmm. I ordered copies of Atlas Games' Pieces of Eight and Cthulhu 500. I regret not buying Pieces of Eight at Gen Con this past August, and so I'm making up for it now. As for Cthulhu 500, we can always use another light-hearted card game for those occasions when RPing is not on the agenda, but gaming of some kind is.
I also discovered that there's a re-make of Conquest of the Empire, which was the Roman equivalent of Axis and Allies when I was but a lad. The new edition looks damn fine, and along with a rules update (as well as some expansion, from the looks of things), it's definitely on my list of games to buy within the next month or two.
So I'm babbling tonight, yeah. There's very little of consequence for me to say, actually. Schwalb is heading to see Queensryche tonight; I never figured him for a QR fan. I've seen Queensryche live on two occasions, the second of which included a backstage meeting with 3/5ths of the band. They seemed like a great group of guys, and it was a good show to boot.
I've got some stuff to do, so I guess I'll cut this post short. There will be more later, I'm sure.
Gen Con SoCal is not in the cards for this weekend. Sorry, folks, I just ain't doing it. My car has a radiator leak which, combined with its general unreliability as of late, precludes me from making the drive. Not that I would have gone were my car in tip-top shape; I'm sure I would've made some other excuse, either due to finances or (most likely) time.
This doesn't stop me from seeing a friend of mine on Sunday, though; a guy that I only see at conventions named Dave. Dave is an Aussie that I met at the very first Gen Con SoCal. He was a player in a massive Cyberpunk 2020 game that I was helping to run, and by chance I ended up moderating for his table towards the end of my evening out. I'm not sure when he noticed my name, but he recognized me instantly as "Ocelot," author of a handful of homebrew Cyberpunk articles from "back in the day."
As neat as it was to be recognized, it was also a bit uncomfortable. Granted, it would've been a heck of lot more uncomfortable if he'd expressed negative opinions about the design work I'd done in my youth. I managed to get over it, though, and he and I have since become friends. In the years following, he moved from Australia to the USA, and now lives a few scant hours away in the Arizona outback. On his way home Sunday, Dave plans to stop by my place, and we're going to head out for breakfast. It'll be good to talk with him again.
Aside from my car acting up, I also got the results of my latest blood test. Don't worry, folks, I'm not dying or anything. At least, not yet. In fact, I guess I'm pretty healthy for a fat guy who does little else but type all day. That is, except for the levels of triglycerides in my bloodstream. Who knew this stuff could kill you? So I'm going to be heading for a low-fat diet in a matter of days, which is pretty much what I've been doing for the past week or two, anyway. Not that I've noticed a difference.
This past weekend, I went to the first movie I've seen since V For Vendetta. I've been a big WWII buff for a while now, and I realized last week that Flags of Our Fathers had been out for a while. Overall, I enjoyed the movie. It was a good mixture of grueling battle scenes intermixed with a story that was somewhat removed from the rigors of war. I was especially interested in the film for two reasons. First off, my grandfather was a sailor aboard an LST that landed at Iwo Jima; and secondly, there have been few good "modern" films that center soley on the Pacific campaign.
By "good 'modern' films" exploring the Pacific aspect of the war, the only one I can really think of that I approved of was 1998's The Thin Red Line. I'm probably the only person I know who liked the movie, though, being as it was largely tropical eye-candy interspersed with the self-reflection of the characters and only sparsely populated with combat scenes. There have been other films, sure, but I consider the majority of them (including the banal, Titanicesque Pearl Harbor, and John Woo's overly fiery Windtalkers) to be cinematic crap.
If you can think of other worthy "modern" Pacific theatre WWII flicks, by all means, let me know.
Okay, so past that, what else is up? Hmm. I ordered copies of Atlas Games' Pieces of Eight and Cthulhu 500. I regret not buying Pieces of Eight at Gen Con this past August, and so I'm making up for it now. As for Cthulhu 500, we can always use another light-hearted card game for those occasions when RPing is not on the agenda, but gaming of some kind is.
I also discovered that there's a re-make of Conquest of the Empire, which was the Roman equivalent of Axis and Allies when I was but a lad. The new edition looks damn fine, and along with a rules update (as well as some expansion, from the looks of things), it's definitely on my list of games to buy within the next month or two.
So I'm babbling tonight, yeah. There's very little of consequence for me to say, actually. Schwalb is heading to see Queensryche tonight; I never figured him for a QR fan. I've seen Queensryche live on two occasions, the second of which included a backstage meeting with 3/5ths of the band. They seemed like a great group of guys, and it was a good show to boot.
I've got some stuff to do, so I guess I'll cut this post short. There will be more later, I'm sure.
10 November 2006
Okay. So It's Been A Month. So What?
As I sit here, watching the special edition of Aliens while my wife puts my son to bed, I'm trying to think back over the past thirty (or so) days and put everything into perspective. I guess there are some folks who might want to know what's been going on, at least from a gaming and/or writing perspective.
In mid-October, we (meaning, myself, the wife, and the boy) flew to Pennsylvania to visit family. Just prior to leaving, I'd posted an entry, complaining of earth-shattering news that I couldn't speak about. Well, I still can't speak about it, but there's even more earth-shattering news that I have already spoken about here.
If you're impatient, skip to the bottom of that entry and read for yourself. That particular news item has more or less eclipsed every other news item that might have arisen before and after.
The future looks bright, insofar as work (writing) is concerned. I'm in a sort of holding pattern at the moment, which allows me to concentrate on other pursuits. That isn't to say that my future, insofar as everything but work (writing) is concerned, looks particularly bleak. It doesn't. Leaner, maybe. Hungrier. But bleak? Naaaah.
Such "pursuits" in recent weeks, thanks to all of the XBox titles at the local Borders being on sale for 75% off, have consisted of a lot of video game playing. Titles such as Midnight Club 3: Dub Edition and the Brothers in Arms series of WWII FPS's have featured prominently. I might feel like a side of beef, sitting there with a video game controller clenched in my sweaty paws, but the price was right. I love a bargain!
I also picked up a copy of Fantasy Flight's War of the Ring boardgame. Haven't played it yet, but dammit! For as much as it cost me, I'm going to, even if it means marching all the way to Mordor.
As for gaming, there hasn't been much. With Thanksgiving (and, after that, Christmas) on the way, I'm sure that scheduling will become a royal PITA. And so it goes.
That's the sound of Newt screaming as her father is revealed to have a facehugger stuck to his mug. It seems to say to me, "Gary, wrap this up and do something else for a while before your laptop battery sputters. So, for now, adieu. I'll get back to the rigors of posting on a more regular scheudule. I promise.
In mid-October, we (meaning, myself, the wife, and the boy) flew to Pennsylvania to visit family. Just prior to leaving, I'd posted an entry, complaining of earth-shattering news that I couldn't speak about. Well, I still can't speak about it, but there's even more earth-shattering news that I have already spoken about here.
If you're impatient, skip to the bottom of that entry and read for yourself. That particular news item has more or less eclipsed every other news item that might have arisen before and after.
The future looks bright, insofar as work (writing) is concerned. I'm in a sort of holding pattern at the moment, which allows me to concentrate on other pursuits. That isn't to say that my future, insofar as everything but work (writing) is concerned, looks particularly bleak. It doesn't. Leaner, maybe. Hungrier. But bleak? Naaaah.
Such "pursuits" in recent weeks, thanks to all of the XBox titles at the local Borders being on sale for 75% off, have consisted of a lot of video game playing. Titles such as Midnight Club 3: Dub Edition and the Brothers in Arms series of WWII FPS's have featured prominently. I might feel like a side of beef, sitting there with a video game controller clenched in my sweaty paws, but the price was right. I love a bargain!I also picked up a copy of Fantasy Flight's War of the Ring boardgame. Haven't played it yet, but dammit! For as much as it cost me, I'm going to, even if it means marching all the way to Mordor.
As for gaming, there hasn't been much. With Thanksgiving (and, after that, Christmas) on the way, I'm sure that scheduling will become a royal PITA. And so it goes.
That's the sound of Newt screaming as her father is revealed to have a facehugger stuck to his mug. It seems to say to me, "Gary, wrap this up and do something else for a while before your laptop battery sputters. So, for now, adieu. I'll get back to the rigors of posting on a more regular scheudule. I promise.
09 October 2006
The Earth Shakes
Yes, earth-shattering news on my end, and it's not just North Korea testing a nuke. Nothing I can talk about, either, so I suppose I'll shut the heck up now and go on with my day as usual.
Three days of work this week, prior to our trip. JD's next installment of the Liberty D&D game is tonight, otherwise I'd plan to be out writing. Andrew (one of the other players) and I helped JD and Keri move and assemble their "ultimate gaming table" last night. It's a bit like the HumVee of gaming set-ups. I guess we get to try it out tonight.
I reckon I'll write either tomorrow night or Wednesday night. I've got a lot of things that need to get done before we leave, so my work is going to have to be curtailed for the time being.
Three days of work this week, prior to our trip. JD's next installment of the Liberty D&D game is tonight, otherwise I'd plan to be out writing. Andrew (one of the other players) and I helped JD and Keri move and assemble their "ultimate gaming table" last night. It's a bit like the HumVee of gaming set-ups. I guess we get to try it out tonight.
I reckon I'll write either tomorrow night or Wednesday night. I've got a lot of things that need to get done before we leave, so my work is going to have to be curtailed for the time being.
08 October 2006
Another Day
I'd forgotten how much I like autumn in California. Besides the seasonal transition from "winter" (a subjective term, especially here) to spring, the California fall is the best time of year. There's none of the heat (alternately dry and sticky) that plagues us during the summer time. The current weather report is cool, with a light breeze, somewhat hazy, with only a few clouds here and there.
Of course, the heat of summer bites, especially when living in an upstairs apartment with no central A/C. We've got the crummy window unit, which works, but it's not exactly efficient. There's no A/C in the bedrooms, though, so we end up soaking in our own sweat on summer nights with the windows open and between 2 and 5 fans blowing hot air on us from all directions.
Not exactly a romantic image, eh?
So, back to the present. I'm at the coffee shop, doing my warm-up before I dig in and start on a five hour session of key-tapping. I'm starting to doubt I'll be completely done by the time my self-imposed deadline rears its ugly head.
Of course, the heat of summer bites, especially when living in an upstairs apartment with no central A/C. We've got the crummy window unit, which works, but it's not exactly efficient. There's no A/C in the bedrooms, though, so we end up soaking in our own sweat on summer nights with the windows open and between 2 and 5 fans blowing hot air on us from all directions.
Not exactly a romantic image, eh?
So, back to the present. I'm at the coffee shop, doing my warm-up before I dig in and start on a five hour session of key-tapping. I'm starting to doubt I'll be completely done by the time my self-imposed deadline rears its ugly head.
04 October 2006
All Over the Place
I'm all over the place tonight. Three posts in one day is some sort of record for me, at any rate. One of them emotional, the next pondering, and this one...well, this one is just a decompress of sorts.
I went writing tonight, as I mentioned I would be doing. I wore my "Vader was Framed" t-shirt, and one of the girls (Danielle) complimented me on it. I got a good deal of work done, thankfully. If I can keep up this sort of pace, I'll be drinking champagne on Sunday night. After I got done at the coffee shop, I had to put a few dollars into my gas tank, or I'd never make it to work tomorrow. I decided to spent $5 on a touchless car wash, as my Corsica was so embarassingly dirty that I often feel like sneaking out to it after work so that no one sees me driving away in it.
Halloween is coming. It's my wife's favorite holiday, though she has yet to break out her massive collection of decorations. I'll keep bothering her about it until she gets busy. Maybe this weekend she'll feel up to it. I like having those decorations up, as the majority of them are pretty neat. I'll have to get some pictures and post them once she's made the plunge.
There was a time, back when I was still living at home, that I used to run a horror scenario just about every single Halloween. At least, that's how it feels. I probably only ran three or four (or maybe even less than that, eh), but they were always a good time. I'm considering doing it again this year, but I have to get up the energy to get past the current project first. I've already got a possible scenario in mind, a very Delta Greenish sort of plot. I'd probably use the Call of Cthulhu system, just because it seems to work well. Or maybe I can brush off my d20 Call of Cthulhu rules and give them the old college try.
Anyway, I'm on my way to bed soon. I went into work late this morning, so I can't really afford to miss too much time. Maybe the gods will smile on me and I can win the lottery or something.
Probably "or something."
I went writing tonight, as I mentioned I would be doing. I wore my "Vader was Framed" t-shirt, and one of the girls (Danielle) complimented me on it. I got a good deal of work done, thankfully. If I can keep up this sort of pace, I'll be drinking champagne on Sunday night. After I got done at the coffee shop, I had to put a few dollars into my gas tank, or I'd never make it to work tomorrow. I decided to spent $5 on a touchless car wash, as my Corsica was so embarassingly dirty that I often feel like sneaking out to it after work so that no one sees me driving away in it.
Halloween is coming. It's my wife's favorite holiday, though she has yet to break out her massive collection of decorations. I'll keep bothering her about it until she gets busy. Maybe this weekend she'll feel up to it. I like having those decorations up, as the majority of them are pretty neat. I'll have to get some pictures and post them once she's made the plunge.
There was a time, back when I was still living at home, that I used to run a horror scenario just about every single Halloween. At least, that's how it feels. I probably only ran three or four (or maybe even less than that, eh), but they were always a good time. I'm considering doing it again this year, but I have to get up the energy to get past the current project first. I've already got a possible scenario in mind, a very Delta Greenish sort of plot. I'd probably use the Call of Cthulhu system, just because it seems to work well. Or maybe I can brush off my d20 Call of Cthulhu rules and give them the old college try.
Anyway, I'm on my way to bed soon. I went into work late this morning, so I can't really afford to miss too much time. Maybe the gods will smile on me and I can win the lottery or something.
Probably "or something."
Gen Con SoCal?
One of the many things I'm currently mulling over is whether or not I'm going to attend Gen Con SoCal next month. Even if I did go, it'd be for one or two days instead of the usual four. As much as I'd like to support the largest gaming convention that's within 70 miles of my doorstep, I'm thinking that I'll be skipping it.
I may reconsider. For now, I'm thinking I'll spend the weekend prior to Thanksgiving at home.
In other news, I'll be heading out to the coffee shop in about an hour or so to continue my work in progress. With luck I can wrap it up this weekend, just in time to go to PA. Lord knows I won't have a scrap of time to myself over our family vacation to do any sort of writing. Not that a lack of work is a bad thing. This is, after all, a family vacation.
I may reconsider. For now, I'm thinking I'll spend the weekend prior to Thanksgiving at home.
In other news, I'll be heading out to the coffee shop in about an hour or so to continue my work in progress. With luck I can wrap it up this weekend, just in time to go to PA. Lord knows I won't have a scrap of time to myself over our family vacation to do any sort of writing. Not that a lack of work is a bad thing. This is, after all, a family vacation.
Forgive, Never Forget
Maybe you know who Charles Carl Roberts IV was. He's the fellow who took several Amish girls hostage in their one-room schoolhouse in Paradise, PA on Monday, and then ended up shooting each of them before taking his own miserable life.
When I read reports of this incident on Monday, I was appalled. How can any human being do something like that to ten innocent children? Given the description of the items he'd brought along with him, as well as his admission to molesting children in the past, one can only imagine what he had planned prior to the point that the police arrived.
So you've got the Amish now, and their faith teaches them that they have to forgive those who trespass against them, that they must not think evil of the man who took the lives of five of their children, and critically wounded five more, as they sat bound and helpless at his feet.
While I can respect the thought of forgivness in principle, my perspective on this crime is one buried in emotion. I am still deeply disturbed, and my heart aches for the victims and their families. It's these sorts of inequities that make me grind my teeth in frustration, and they happen every single day, all over the world.
Could I forgive Charles Roberts if my daughter was one of the dead or wounded? The simple answer is "no." Having killed himself, we'll probably never know why he did what he did, exactly, and we'll never, as a society, be able to punish him for it. Part of me feels that we're better off with the fellow cold and stiff, whether he took his own life or not.
I only wish he'd done us the favor of committing suicide before he'd taken the lives of five human beings, wounded five others, and caused depths of grief to their friends and family members that I hope I never experience.
When I read reports of this incident on Monday, I was appalled. How can any human being do something like that to ten innocent children? Given the description of the items he'd brought along with him, as well as his admission to molesting children in the past, one can only imagine what he had planned prior to the point that the police arrived.
So you've got the Amish now, and their faith teaches them that they have to forgive those who trespass against them, that they must not think evil of the man who took the lives of five of their children, and critically wounded five more, as they sat bound and helpless at his feet.
While I can respect the thought of forgivness in principle, my perspective on this crime is one buried in emotion. I am still deeply disturbed, and my heart aches for the victims and their families. It's these sorts of inequities that make me grind my teeth in frustration, and they happen every single day, all over the world.
Could I forgive Charles Roberts if my daughter was one of the dead or wounded? The simple answer is "no." Having killed himself, we'll probably never know why he did what he did, exactly, and we'll never, as a society, be able to punish him for it. Part of me feels that we're better off with the fellow cold and stiff, whether he took his own life or not.
I only wish he'd done us the favor of committing suicide before he'd taken the lives of five human beings, wounded five others, and caused depths of grief to their friends and family members that I hope I never experience.
01 October 2006
Brain Like a Fried Egg
That's what you get when you sit me in front of my laptop for five hours at a stretch. Right now, my head feels light and empty. It's not particularly euphoric. It's more disturbing than anything. That, combined with the fact that there is still a lot more work to be done, thousands more words to be written, lends to the overall feeling of despair.
Still, there's some feeling of accomplishment to be had. I've done a good deal of work this weekend, some of which I am pretty proud of. It's going to take several more hours of concerted effort on my part to complete what I've started. I only hope that the powers that be can look upon what I've generated and smile, knowing that I'm on the right course.
Gods, I hope I'm on the right course.
This is one of the first times I've written something (at length) from the perspective of someone who is so far removed from my own thought processes that it's similar, in some respects, to my years in high school drama. I was a method actor, and I immersed myself in the roles I played so much that I carried them around with me when I wasn't on stage. To hear my mother tell it, the two months leading up to my first performance as Scrooge in A Christmas Carol were some of the worst she'd ever spent with me. When she saw me on stage, she finally understood why.
I can't say much about the persona I've adopted for the current project. He's not like me in a lot of ways, some of them disturbing. He might be considered a good guy in the grand scheme of things, but I have trouble agreeing with that. There's more depth to him than that, even if it is to one extreme or the other.
Anyway, enough of that. I can't say anything about it, so I might as well shut up. I need to go home, finish what I've got so far, and send it off for review. Tomorrow, I get up at my normal hour and head in to work. Bother.
Still, there's some feeling of accomplishment to be had. I've done a good deal of work this weekend, some of which I am pretty proud of. It's going to take several more hours of concerted effort on my part to complete what I've started. I only hope that the powers that be can look upon what I've generated and smile, knowing that I'm on the right course.
Gods, I hope I'm on the right course.
This is one of the first times I've written something (at length) from the perspective of someone who is so far removed from my own thought processes that it's similar, in some respects, to my years in high school drama. I was a method actor, and I immersed myself in the roles I played so much that I carried them around with me when I wasn't on stage. To hear my mother tell it, the two months leading up to my first performance as Scrooge in A Christmas Carol were some of the worst she'd ever spent with me. When she saw me on stage, she finally understood why.
I can't say much about the persona I've adopted for the current project. He's not like me in a lot of ways, some of them disturbing. He might be considered a good guy in the grand scheme of things, but I have trouble agreeing with that. There's more depth to him than that, even if it is to one extreme or the other.
Anyway, enough of that. I can't say anything about it, so I might as well shut up. I need to go home, finish what I've got so far, and send it off for review. Tomorrow, I get up at my normal hour and head in to work. Bother.
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