I started earlier this week with the intellectual idea of re-visiting the games of my youth; to explore their themes with the eyes of a trained adult. It was to be a diversion and perhaps an interesting point of study for future work. But it turned out to be a lot more.
I wrote before of tapping into older WoW characters to get a read into my earlier mindsets; I then took the idea farther by moving them to Dark Iron and counteracting the ill-will I felt from my previous guild dramas. The concept is enumerated in various psychological works (although the circumstances vary.) and I feel confident in my data regarding the matter.
But this was much more then a simple walk a few years backwards. This was the era I had just begun to realize the power of words, and I was filled with an incredible passion for storytelling. The nostalgic power of the games reminded me of the unbridled potential of youth and equally limitless potential of the storyteller.
My first real exposure to the "fantasy" genre was via two very old computer games: "Champions of Krynn" and "The Magic Candle". To this day "The Magic Candle" remains one of my earliest and most powerful influences on the worlds I have created. This is something I did not even realize until I had played the games again after all these years.
T.M.C was one of the first open-ended (or sandbox concept games) of the RPG (or any) genre. There was no final boss, no linear storyline and very little "required" questing to beat the game.
Instead you have 1000 days to find a way to keep the lord Dreax imprisoned, each day the candle burns a little lower until he finally escapes.
It was a simple concept for a game, but the execution was where it shined. Many tasks required the party to break into groups... potentially dangerous with the agents of Dreax hunting you. It required strict resource management and has quite possibly the best-balanced characters I have ever seen for a game. The "weaker" combat characters have everyday professions and the game is nearly impossible without the extra gold they bring in. The right balance of fighting power, hunting power, money making and magical utility is quite difficult to strike exactly.
The intensity of the game didn't force me into an older mindset as was the case with Adul; instead I encountered something new: at first a raw emotional response. But the nostalgia of the game was a powerful catalyst for a fusion of thinking.
I was calm, felt no deep emotional pain or crushing despair over my current situation. Emotionally I went back to a different era completely. It was relaxing to delve into such a rich story without any distractions. With the clarity I found I could recall specific thoughts, threads of my earlier thinking. I followed it for awhile; linking the old and the new.
The fusion of old and new. Experience and passion. The application of new ideas to old problems stirred in my soul a kind of... yearning. There are new answers, new strategies and problems waiting for me to uncover. These problems before me now are nothing more then speed bumps and the pain and worry I have over them is without merit.
Friday, February 29, 2008
Saturday, February 02, 2008
Broken
The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong in the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry.
-Ernest Hemingway
When a person is part of your life for a long time; you can't help but feel the loss keenly. Like a submarine under deep water it buckles and eventually crushes the heart. I tried for a time to avoid it; but could not. I lost the closest person in the world to me, my best friend and my partner in all things.
I sat in the emptiness that was our home for two weeks. The kittins I loved so dearly gone, no internet, no cable, no phone and my car across town and out of reach. It put my feelings front and center, I had nothing to distract me from those thoughts and I had to face them raw and naked.
It grinded me down into a shallow depression, a listless lethargy. My health moved between fair and bad as it always does. Even a "friend" took opportunity to kick me while I was still down, but a special few rose to the occasion and helped me pull through it.
Hemingway was right: the world breaks us. But we heal, grow stronger and overcome.
I live with my family now far away from my friends, far away from the life I knew. It doesn't bother me that I am far away; a distance of miles is meaningless. It bothers me that the true distance, the unfathomable barrier between people is wider then it has ever been. I could be a million miles away but the distance between me and everyone else is greater still.
-Ernest Hemingway
When a person is part of your life for a long time; you can't help but feel the loss keenly. Like a submarine under deep water it buckles and eventually crushes the heart. I tried for a time to avoid it; but could not. I lost the closest person in the world to me, my best friend and my partner in all things.
I sat in the emptiness that was our home for two weeks. The kittins I loved so dearly gone, no internet, no cable, no phone and my car across town and out of reach. It put my feelings front and center, I had nothing to distract me from those thoughts and I had to face them raw and naked.
It grinded me down into a shallow depression, a listless lethargy. My health moved between fair and bad as it always does. Even a "friend" took opportunity to kick me while I was still down, but a special few rose to the occasion and helped me pull through it.
Hemingway was right: the world breaks us. But we heal, grow stronger and overcome.
I live with my family now far away from my friends, far away from the life I knew. It doesn't bother me that I am far away; a distance of miles is meaningless. It bothers me that the true distance, the unfathomable barrier between people is wider then it has ever been. I could be a million miles away but the distance between me and everyone else is greater still.
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
An untapped ability
My first real hobby was gaming.
Not games in any organized sense of the word; not roleplaying games and not even video games.
I collected junk, things that other people deemed useless. Bits of machinery, discarded packaging and smatters of my own toys and trinkets. With nothing more then my imagination I created and destroyed worlds, empires and entire races even. Over time I devloped a rudimentary roleplaying system, long before I ever picked up dice for Dungeons and Dragons.
As I got older my systems became more and more sophisticated, I would roleplay with my friends are recess and share my worlds with them. It was in those years; those humble beginnings that I found both my confidence and skill as a storyteller. I learned how effective patiomine was; and how to use hooks to draw people into a story. I reached a point around 6th grade where I could not improve upon my skills any longer. I didn't have room to grow, I didn't have teachers who understood well enough to instruct me. So I took my focus from a storyteller and shifted to studying the mind.
Psychology was for me... a hallway that lead to infinite possibilities. It was like opening pandora's box and realizing it's too late to cram the lid back on. I followed my curiosity into the darkest reaches of the human psyche, into the unrelenting light of the human soul and farther then the child who built worlds could've ever dreamed.
My gift all along was in people. It was in understanding them, giving them sympathy and knowing when to be tough. I took a very roundabount way to discover my gift. Going from a shy nerd to a charismatic man... I took great pains to cultivate that skill and hone it into a fine point.
In the wake of my illness and the unfortunate events following it I locked myself into isolation. turned my back on humanity and my gift. And we all know if you don't use it you lose it.
This week was the first time in years that I have seriously considered walking away from my life. Taking a few key possessions and beating a path out of town. It isn't that I hate the people that are in my life, or that I hate where I live or the things that surround me. It's that for the first time in as back as I can remember I have no idea what to do. My health is poor at best, I have incurred medical debts, I have no way to afford school because the work that I am good at literally makes me sick.
I'm hopelessly stuck right now.
I can't help but think if I leave, go as far away as I can that I can outrun my problems. It has to be a special brand of desperation that I have never felt before. I know intellectually that a reckless exodus to another state would be a deathwish. Without friends and family support I would do far far worse then I am now.
If I could magically cure myself I would have no problem paying off my debts and going back to school.
Years ago, that may even have been possible. I was a different stronger person. I remember once that I sprained my ankle and then proceeded to walk to work in the snow. Work an 8 hour shift and walk 2 miles back home. All before seeing the doctor. I ignored the biting cold and I poured my life into everything that I did... and somehow it didn't matter when I was sick or down because I knew that I was strong and had confidence in myself... and my abilities.
It seems like my default now is weak, sick. Anemic. I loathe it, perhaps thats what I want to escape.
But I need something to change this; either from within myself or a deus ex machina that shifts the entire balance my life is built on. I look at my abilities and think "how amazing if I could utilize them properly". They are uncut diamonds, imperfect but with the amazing unseen potential. How do I do it? How do I use my talents with people if I cannot be in bright light or near loud noises?
If you think of a job that requires people skills and takes place in a quiet dark enviroment please let me know. And if it's a bookstore don't bother I've already checked two dozen of them.
Not games in any organized sense of the word; not roleplaying games and not even video games.
I collected junk, things that other people deemed useless. Bits of machinery, discarded packaging and smatters of my own toys and trinkets. With nothing more then my imagination I created and destroyed worlds, empires and entire races even. Over time I devloped a rudimentary roleplaying system, long before I ever picked up dice for Dungeons and Dragons.
As I got older my systems became more and more sophisticated, I would roleplay with my friends are recess and share my worlds with them. It was in those years; those humble beginnings that I found both my confidence and skill as a storyteller. I learned how effective patiomine was; and how to use hooks to draw people into a story. I reached a point around 6th grade where I could not improve upon my skills any longer. I didn't have room to grow, I didn't have teachers who understood well enough to instruct me. So I took my focus from a storyteller and shifted to studying the mind.
Psychology was for me... a hallway that lead to infinite possibilities. It was like opening pandora's box and realizing it's too late to cram the lid back on. I followed my curiosity into the darkest reaches of the human psyche, into the unrelenting light of the human soul and farther then the child who built worlds could've ever dreamed.
My gift all along was in people. It was in understanding them, giving them sympathy and knowing when to be tough. I took a very roundabount way to discover my gift. Going from a shy nerd to a charismatic man... I took great pains to cultivate that skill and hone it into a fine point.
In the wake of my illness and the unfortunate events following it I locked myself into isolation. turned my back on humanity and my gift. And we all know if you don't use it you lose it.
This week was the first time in years that I have seriously considered walking away from my life. Taking a few key possessions and beating a path out of town. It isn't that I hate the people that are in my life, or that I hate where I live or the things that surround me. It's that for the first time in as back as I can remember I have no idea what to do. My health is poor at best, I have incurred medical debts, I have no way to afford school because the work that I am good at literally makes me sick.
I'm hopelessly stuck right now.
I can't help but think if I leave, go as far away as I can that I can outrun my problems. It has to be a special brand of desperation that I have never felt before. I know intellectually that a reckless exodus to another state would be a deathwish. Without friends and family support I would do far far worse then I am now.
If I could magically cure myself I would have no problem paying off my debts and going back to school.
Years ago, that may even have been possible. I was a different stronger person. I remember once that I sprained my ankle and then proceeded to walk to work in the snow. Work an 8 hour shift and walk 2 miles back home. All before seeing the doctor. I ignored the biting cold and I poured my life into everything that I did... and somehow it didn't matter when I was sick or down because I knew that I was strong and had confidence in myself... and my abilities.
It seems like my default now is weak, sick. Anemic. I loathe it, perhaps thats what I want to escape.
But I need something to change this; either from within myself or a deus ex machina that shifts the entire balance my life is built on. I look at my abilities and think "how amazing if I could utilize them properly". They are uncut diamonds, imperfect but with the amazing unseen potential. How do I do it? How do I use my talents with people if I cannot be in bright light or near loud noises?
If you think of a job that requires people skills and takes place in a quiet dark enviroment please let me know. And if it's a bookstore don't bother I've already checked two dozen of them.
Tuesday, January 01, 2008
A New Years Kitty
Reflecting on the year used to be something I enjoyed; Looked forward to even. This year has been terrible, aloft of it is stuff I have no control over... but a significant amount is stuff I can and haven't wanted to deal with. I'm going to keep the inner reflection down a few notches because most of the things I have to reflect on aren't that great.
I'm really very tired of being sick. I look terrible, I feel terrible and I perform terribly at most things that I do now. Not long ago I was successful at what I did, I made more then enough money and I was both happy and healthy. The contrast between to two is stark... which is perhaps why I often mistakenly yearn to return to the past.
A perfect life example is right before me here, Holley's parents came across a stray kitten a few days back and have left it in our care. The poor creature is obviously sick and hungry, but it goes deeper then that. He is starved for love and affection. I look into his eyes and I see the cold hurt creature within. I feel not merely sympathy for him, but a kindred feeling. There was a time in my life I was homeless, times when I had been abandoned and only wanted someone to love me.
I won't ever forget that feeling of being completely alone, as if all the excess had been burned off my soul and only the hardened core remained. I survived and became stronger, like I will survive and grow from this trial.
It is a an important part of creation to first destroy. I have to look at the potential I now have. It's an opportunity for me to honestly reexamine and challenge years of belief and convention. This poor kit tin has the chance for a new and loving life and I will make certain he receives it. As for me I have a different opportunity... the core of who I am is not unhurt; it would be pure deceit to say I was undamaged.
It helps sometimes to visualize, to put a complex subject or concept into a image. Right now I'm thinking of the forging of a good sword. The dross is melted from the slag until it becomes pure... then it's forged by repeated strikes. A sword is a thing of great beauty... it belials a strength that is not seen.
Holley wants to name the cat Deckard or Elrik. I'll proceed to the second line of thought tomorrow. Goodnight.
I'm really very tired of being sick. I look terrible, I feel terrible and I perform terribly at most things that I do now. Not long ago I was successful at what I did, I made more then enough money and I was both happy and healthy. The contrast between to two is stark... which is perhaps why I often mistakenly yearn to return to the past.
A perfect life example is right before me here, Holley's parents came across a stray kitten a few days back and have left it in our care. The poor creature is obviously sick and hungry, but it goes deeper then that. He is starved for love and affection. I look into his eyes and I see the cold hurt creature within. I feel not merely sympathy for him, but a kindred feeling. There was a time in my life I was homeless, times when I had been abandoned and only wanted someone to love me.
I won't ever forget that feeling of being completely alone, as if all the excess had been burned off my soul and only the hardened core remained. I survived and became stronger, like I will survive and grow from this trial.
It is a an important part of creation to first destroy. I have to look at the potential I now have. It's an opportunity for me to honestly reexamine and challenge years of belief and convention. This poor kit tin has the chance for a new and loving life and I will make certain he receives it. As for me I have a different opportunity... the core of who I am is not unhurt; it would be pure deceit to say I was undamaged.
It helps sometimes to visualize, to put a complex subject or concept into a image. Right now I'm thinking of the forging of a good sword. The dross is melted from the slag until it becomes pure... then it's forged by repeated strikes. A sword is a thing of great beauty... it belials a strength that is not seen.
Holley wants to name the cat Deckard or Elrik. I'll proceed to the second line of thought tomorrow. Goodnight.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
A Grim Flavour
I haven't roleplayed in several months. In large part it was due to my health. But to a lesser extent boredom caused it.
You see I've been a storyteller my entire life, and the hardest part of being a good storyteller is to tell the stories that your audiance wants to hear. Too many storytellers don't do that. I have to limit myself to what my players can both handle (in terms of skill) and enjoy. My setting has a distinct flavour which I am very proud of. A dose of high fantasy, a touch of sci-fi, a few sprinkles of drama and intrigue. It reflects it's creators broad range of ideas as well as being a deeply fascinating mesh.
It would be unfair to say that I am bored of my world, or the ideas it represents, or the stories and characters therein. Closer to the truth would be to say I am bored with using the same tools, inspirations and general Mileu. I've added to my arsenal of storytelling almost non-stop for the last ten years. I've played in almost the same exact way for even longer then that. Its become a mold that stifles my creativity and bores me. I've been playing with an idea for a few months now. I've decided the time is right to gather some players and do it. I call it dreadspire.
It started with a simple image in my head. A row of battered bleary eyed heroes standing on a barren blasted landscape. Each looks with a combination of dread and awe upwards. It is wrong to call the dreadspire a tower, for towers are made of brick and morter. The dreadspire appears to be a giant ebon screw twisting itself into an empty sky. It's a marval of magical engineering; the spire itself breaches the ancient dimension of horrors, it appears to be made of whirling unspeakable darkness, but in truth it is the very fabric of reality twisted to new purpose.
It was an interesting idea, I had always intended to add more gothic elements to my setting but never had the time or inclination to follow them through. I took that inital interesting idea and melded it into my settings existing history. The tower was constructed by the 3rd apprentice of Zom who attempted to enslave the horrors of the otherworld. Being undead he was resistant to the effects of the horrors at first. But slowly it started to erode what remained of his sanity. With what remained of his wit he attempted to seal the breach between the two dimensions. Although partially successful the taint from that dimension has leaked into the countryside... a remote valley kingdom along the eastern border of Brenntor and Kokuran.
The tiny kingdom's armies are soom engulfed by lesser horrors and the crazed necromancers now escaped minions. It escapes the notice of the major powers completely. Mordathal has been sacked and the children of Taia greatly depleted. The knights of Brenntor and the Elves cannot leave the Worldseed unguarded and therefore cannot be of aid. Most of the other powers suffered heavy losses in the war of the sundered soul, the only two major players to remain unscathed were the demons of Kilrah and the Celestials of Sethror. Both had refused to venture troops to the mortal plane and it appears that trend would continue.
The temples to the gods are destroyed in this tiny country, the monasteries for monks, the wizards towers. The survivors are pushed back farther and farther. Heroes, adventurers, knights, sellswords and even the occasional supernatural rise up to fight the spreading corruption. Most are cut down or driven insane. Some become undead and others are twisted by the otherworld into soulless monsters.
Finally from the west comes a hope. The crusader Pell brings his army of undead hunters, with him are an order of Chronomancers who intend to seal the rift of the Dreadspire.
The genre of Gothic horror is famous for some elements of this situation. The powerlessness of the local government, the fall of heroes, corruption of even the most noble or powerful. The themes are plentiful. But what makes them interesting in the context of my setting is what I bring to bear against the unspeakable horrors. Often in Gothic horror the heroes are portrayed as being powerless against the old ones except for a bit of rare lore or a powerful artifact. In my setting magic is plentiful and replaces technology in many regards. The old ones are powerful but they are they are not indestructible. Mortals have the power to combat them. The breach can be repaired by the Eternal Order who watches over the health of time and space. The undead are not so fearsome to Pell's crusaders who have fought them for two decades.
Also one thing makes my Gothic horror sub-setting better then most others. No werewolves fighting vampires. Seriously. We get it. Cut it out with the vamps v wolves thing.
You see I've been a storyteller my entire life, and the hardest part of being a good storyteller is to tell the stories that your audiance wants to hear. Too many storytellers don't do that. I have to limit myself to what my players can both handle (in terms of skill) and enjoy. My setting has a distinct flavour which I am very proud of. A dose of high fantasy, a touch of sci-fi, a few sprinkles of drama and intrigue. It reflects it's creators broad range of ideas as well as being a deeply fascinating mesh.
It would be unfair to say that I am bored of my world, or the ideas it represents, or the stories and characters therein. Closer to the truth would be to say I am bored with using the same tools, inspirations and general Mileu. I've added to my arsenal of storytelling almost non-stop for the last ten years. I've played in almost the same exact way for even longer then that. Its become a mold that stifles my creativity and bores me. I've been playing with an idea for a few months now. I've decided the time is right to gather some players and do it. I call it dreadspire.
It started with a simple image in my head. A row of battered bleary eyed heroes standing on a barren blasted landscape. Each looks with a combination of dread and awe upwards. It is wrong to call the dreadspire a tower, for towers are made of brick and morter. The dreadspire appears to be a giant ebon screw twisting itself into an empty sky. It's a marval of magical engineering; the spire itself breaches the ancient dimension of horrors, it appears to be made of whirling unspeakable darkness, but in truth it is the very fabric of reality twisted to new purpose.
It was an interesting idea, I had always intended to add more gothic elements to my setting but never had the time or inclination to follow them through. I took that inital interesting idea and melded it into my settings existing history. The tower was constructed by the 3rd apprentice of Zom who attempted to enslave the horrors of the otherworld. Being undead he was resistant to the effects of the horrors at first. But slowly it started to erode what remained of his sanity. With what remained of his wit he attempted to seal the breach between the two dimensions. Although partially successful the taint from that dimension has leaked into the countryside... a remote valley kingdom along the eastern border of Brenntor and Kokuran.
The tiny kingdom's armies are soom engulfed by lesser horrors and the crazed necromancers now escaped minions. It escapes the notice of the major powers completely. Mordathal has been sacked and the children of Taia greatly depleted. The knights of Brenntor and the Elves cannot leave the Worldseed unguarded and therefore cannot be of aid. Most of the other powers suffered heavy losses in the war of the sundered soul, the only two major players to remain unscathed were the demons of Kilrah and the Celestials of Sethror. Both had refused to venture troops to the mortal plane and it appears that trend would continue.
The temples to the gods are destroyed in this tiny country, the monasteries for monks, the wizards towers. The survivors are pushed back farther and farther. Heroes, adventurers, knights, sellswords and even the occasional supernatural rise up to fight the spreading corruption. Most are cut down or driven insane. Some become undead and others are twisted by the otherworld into soulless monsters.
Finally from the west comes a hope. The crusader Pell brings his army of undead hunters, with him are an order of Chronomancers who intend to seal the rift of the Dreadspire.
The genre of Gothic horror is famous for some elements of this situation. The powerlessness of the local government, the fall of heroes, corruption of even the most noble or powerful. The themes are plentiful. But what makes them interesting in the context of my setting is what I bring to bear against the unspeakable horrors. Often in Gothic horror the heroes are portrayed as being powerless against the old ones except for a bit of rare lore or a powerful artifact. In my setting magic is plentiful and replaces technology in many regards. The old ones are powerful but they are they are not indestructible. Mortals have the power to combat them. The breach can be repaired by the Eternal Order who watches over the health of time and space. The undead are not so fearsome to Pell's crusaders who have fought them for two decades.
Also one thing makes my Gothic horror sub-setting better then most others. No werewolves fighting vampires. Seriously. We get it. Cut it out with the vamps v wolves thing.
Sunday, December 16, 2007
PvP, All night long
This morning/last night was the first time in years that I have spent the entire night in WoW pvping.
It's funny because Adul isn't even geared or specc'ed for PvP. I built him for long fights and mana efficiency: slow and steady DPS. Despite my spec and gear being all wrong for it I dominated several games and rarely got under 3rd place.
The mage requires a very high degree of skill in WoW, He dies easily which means he has to constantly be moving around. However if your moving you can't cast your most powerful spells.
On top of that the recent hunter buff has taken away the one slim advantage we had over them. If an enemy ducks behind something and breaks your line of sight your spell fails.
Because of these and a million other factors a mage is easily one of the hardest and most reflex intense classes in the game. (I give rogues credit in this area as well.)
4 months ago I wouldn't have had the reflexes to do this, and my reflexes are still no where compared to what they once were. But tonight felt really good. WoW is a hobby, games are my hobby. But it feels incredible to start to reclaim this aspect of my life, because even (or especially) a hobby is worth doing the very best you can.
It's funny really, even though I was there for honor I didn't really care about getting more honor/wins. I just really enjoyed what I was doing. A lot of times people PvP to get better gear... for PvP but they don't enjoy it. It boggles my mind sometimes.
On a slightly related manner I'm getting everything gathered again to start work on my sorting. I got sick before I finished last time and I lost a lot of my progress. Most of my free time lately has been spent getting my WoW characters back to a playable level. It's really not the most productive use of my time but lately I haven't really cared. Maybe blowing everything off to kill horde isn't such a bad thing, it does relieve a lot of stress.
It's funny because Adul isn't even geared or specc'ed for PvP. I built him for long fights and mana efficiency: slow and steady DPS. Despite my spec and gear being all wrong for it I dominated several games and rarely got under 3rd place.
The mage requires a very high degree of skill in WoW, He dies easily which means he has to constantly be moving around. However if your moving you can't cast your most powerful spells.
On top of that the recent hunter buff has taken away the one slim advantage we had over them. If an enemy ducks behind something and breaks your line of sight your spell fails.
Because of these and a million other factors a mage is easily one of the hardest and most reflex intense classes in the game. (I give rogues credit in this area as well.)
4 months ago I wouldn't have had the reflexes to do this, and my reflexes are still no where compared to what they once were. But tonight felt really good. WoW is a hobby, games are my hobby. But it feels incredible to start to reclaim this aspect of my life, because even (or especially) a hobby is worth doing the very best you can.
It's funny really, even though I was there for honor I didn't really care about getting more honor/wins. I just really enjoyed what I was doing. A lot of times people PvP to get better gear... for PvP but they don't enjoy it. It boggles my mind sometimes.
On a slightly related manner I'm getting everything gathered again to start work on my sorting. I got sick before I finished last time and I lost a lot of my progress. Most of my free time lately has been spent getting my WoW characters back to a playable level. It's really not the most productive use of my time but lately I haven't really cared. Maybe blowing everything off to kill horde isn't such a bad thing, it does relieve a lot of stress.
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