Hi Reader, Welcome. Please, come in. Have some tea. I've got chamomile and Earl Grey. It's full-on spring now. The crocuses are coming up, but I'm not picking them—they just need to grow. This week, I’m in a heads-down, plugging-away mindset. I got good feedback from Lyla (aka Jar of Eyes), the dev editor for Defy the Gods. It's the kind of feedback to make you almost wish you hadn't already put out a public beta. (Which you can play right now.) It makes you want to make it better. I need to keep at it. My ADHD would rather flit from one big idea to another. But if I focus on little things, it keeps me grounded. Like when I used to go running, keeping my eyes on just the ten feet in front of me. Turns out, focus is how people get things done. ​Or so I'm told. It takes longer than I expect. It's easy to feel like I don't have enough time for everything, or even anything important. But if I chip away on every front with a constant, low-key rhythm, eventually, I'll do amazing things. I don't know. I'll let you know when I get there. 😅 My friend W recently characterized his ADHD this way: "Starting projects is fun! They're new and full of promise. I get a dopamine hit from starting them. Continuing projects and finishing them is a slog. I'm over the new idea by that point, and I miss the dopamine. So I start a new project." (Or words to that effect.) I hadn't thought of it quite that way before. When you're planning a big project, it's hard to see it the way you'll see it after working on it for umpteen months, just a few months before you finish. Or need to finish, or want to. I recently set aside time to paint some miniatures, so I could play a wargame with my dear friend P. I've never gotten into this part of the gaming hobby before. It's patient, painstaking work. You wash the models, file down their flash seams, prime them, paint a base coat, paint shadows and highlights, fix all your messes, varnish them, and cover the bases with terrain. You do most of it with tiny brushes, looking through a magnifying glass. It's a lot. Eventually, it becomes meditative. But you can't rush it. You have to put in the hours. At the end, you have these little guys to show for it. Combined with your friends' contributions—more little guys, and the elaborate environment they move through—you make an amazing experience. It happens the same way you tell a the story in an RPG, but it's visible and tangible. And unlike RPGs, you have artifacts to show for the experience afterward. Like Lyla's feedback, and W's ADHD description, the miniatures shed a light on game design for me. After the glow wears off, after the big ideas hold no more mystery, there's nothing but how well it plays for others, and whatever the game needs to play better. Or so I hope. Here's to patient work. Cheers, P.S. "Umpteen" should tell you how good I am at estimating project lengths. P.P.S. You can get the rules and links for Defy the Gods right here. I'll update it soon and let you know. |
🌈🚀 Reliable wonder engine. I make narrative role-playing games that imagine a weirder, queerer, more connected world.
Hi Reader, Welcome! Please, come in. Sit down. We've got some cold fizzy water and some pizza from this place up the road. On the table and chairs there's an oiled bronze sword, a boiled leather shield, a skeleton key mottled in verdigris ... let me get all that out of the way. There. As you can tell by all the detritus—We're just a week and a half away from the end of the Defy the Gods Kickstarter! So far, we've unlocked an embroidered patch, a spot-gloss upgrade for the standard edition, a...
Hi Reader, Whew! Please come in, out of that gale. Here at the table, there's a tranquil bunch of violets and some herbal tea. Those winds are Origins Game Fair blowing through Columbus like a hurricane. Also—related—Defy the Gods blowing past its second stretch goal. This week has bowled me over. I sold out of all my raccoon dice and enamel pins. I sold over fifty Quick Starts for Defy the Gods. Several people also backed the Kickstarter right there at the booth. Since I don't have a...
Hi Reader, Welcome! Please, come in, make yourself at home. On the table, next to some humble, xeroxed character sheets, is a tiny ceramic pot holding a lush orchid. I've been thinking about the densely packed experience lately. Like movies. Even though they're today's prestige storytelling format, even a great movie is just two hours (okay, two and a half) of light and sound. But in that time, it takes you on a rollercoaster. When it drops you off at the end, you feel richer—not twenty...