Hi Reader, Welcome! Please, come in. Our dogwood is finally blooming, so I put some of its flowers in a bowl of water. Back in high school, I was a theater kid. Mostly tech, but on stage a few times. I hadn't decided if I was there to hide myself or show it. One day after school, I wandered past the auditorium’s stage door. On the door-glass, someone had taped a sign. In a high school student’s scrawl, the sign said: WE, the Bavarian Illuminati—WHO CONTROL EVERYTHING—issue you this warning:
YOU BECOME WHO YOU PRETEND TO BE.
That was it. I never figured out who wrote it. But it's stayed with me for 35 years. You become who you pretend to be. I've decided that can be bad or good. When it’s bad:You’re hiding your feelings—from everyone else, but inevitably from yourself, too. Your identity feels false. You’re living a lie, although most of the time, you think that's a rather harsh way to put it. You’re role-playing, but it’s not a game. If it ever was one, it stopped a long time ago. Most days, you forget it’s an assumed role at all. You need to remember. Tabletop role-playing games are great for this. Safely inside their "magic circle," you try on identities you know are false. Once or twice, you recognize yourself in them. Just a piece. It glimmers in the game’s half light. It retreats, but maybe you follow it. Regardless, the vision stays with you. It's becoming second nature to pretend to be someone. Games help you pretend to be someone else. Sometimes, it can be anyone else. When it’s good:Every day, you try on the person you want to be. Every day, that person fits you better. You act as them longer and get closer to being them full-time. In cynical moments—which may be most days—it feels fake. The vestiges of your old life are littered around you. You wonder if you're just pretending. But you'll become who you pretend to be. Or pretend to just be pretending to be. Because you know that "fake" person connects to something vital. Healthy, full of life. Hold onto that. When you play role-playing games, you might play a fantasy of your one-day self, to flex. Or an effigy of your old self, to bat around. Or someone in between. Games let you explore all their contours, connections, and contrasts. Find games that let you do that. Let go of games that feel flat or hollow—rat races of XP, dead monsters, and gold. Cleave to games that open up emotions you didn’t know you still had. It works if you work it. Keep working it. Trust the Bavarian Illuminati: You become who you pretend to be. Cheers, P.S. I'm pushing for something vital in every part of Defy the Gods. But the one character who really feels like this email is the Revenant. They died, but they escaped the Underworld. Whoever they used to be, they're not them anymore. They're figuring out who they want to be, and they ask their friends reflect that back to them. Check it out over at the public beta! |
🌈🚀 Reliable wonder engine. I make narrative role-playing games that imagine a weirder, queerer, more connected world.
Hi Reader, Welcome! Please, come in. Let me take your coat. Can you believe it snowed today? None of it stuck, but still. I've got a saucepan full of hot chocolate in the kitchen. Mugs are in the cupboard. So. Some wild things happened since we last met: I went to Big Bad Con in San Francisco, where I spent time with some of my favorite people, ran Defy the Gods, and met folks who will help me finish the book. I also went to U-Con in Ann Arbor, and I made the hard decision not to go to PAX...
Hi Reader, Welcome back. Please, come in, sit down. We have a little brisket left over from Rosh Hashanah if you want some. It's really good. "shhh ... this is my favorite part." Red Raccoon Radio, the podcast for Red Raccoon Games in Bloomington, Illinois, just dropped a new episode, and I’m in it! You can catch it here. We talk about Raccoon Sky Pirates—a natural fit for them!—and my next game, Defy the Gods. Hear me in the hot seat, answering "Why should people be excited to hear from...
Hi Reader, How are you? Please, come in, sit down. Dry off. Lately, it's like all the rain we missed in the summer has come at once. This summer, I heard from an old friend about a disastrous game she played. Her gaming group had just introduced a buddy of hers to role-playing. After enjoying their first campaign together, her buddy wanted to GM the next one. So he did. For a year. It turns out that in the first campaign, Buddy bristled against its safety tools—lines, veils, a certain amount...