Revving up for GenCon!

Cross posted at Stone Baby Games:

I'll be at GenCon this year dividing my time between The Forge/IPR and the Ashcan Front booths, and will have games available at each: Steal Away Jordan at The Forge/IPR and Tales of the Fisherman's Wife at the Ashcan Front.

I've been hard at work on the latter. All the books will be hand-bound and full color. I'll have about 12-15 extra special editions. No two covers will be alike, and they'll have 5 extra collaged images. Tales of the Fisherman's Wife is for mature audiences. At one point I had considered making available a "clean" version, but I'm running out of time! And the design concept for the book a Japanese pillow book. In that spirit (and in the spirit of the game), the book contains sexually graphic images (classic ukiyo-e shunga).

Tales of the Fisherman's Wife is and ashcan, but I do know the game works and it's fun. Here's what makes it "ashcanny": there is an untested mechanic, which in theory sounds very fun. I want to see it in action though. While I've played the game several times, I want more play-testing. I want to know how it plays when I'm not there. Also, this game lends itself well to creating beautiful custom hand bound versions. I want to get good at it, and practice makes perfect.

So what do you get by buying a really pretty ashcan? It depends on what you do with it. Within the next six months, hopefully you'll play it. (It takes no more than 2 hours for a whole game!). Then you'll post your play report at the Forge, or Story Games, and let me know about it. Or send me feedback by email on the text or the mechanics. If you do this, you get a free pdf of the official release, a hard copy at printing cost, or a custom hand bound edition at a discount.

I have not decided on a price for either the basic or special hand bound versions. I will have pictures of some of the special ones soon, but I'm up to my ears in book binding right now. I may not post anything until after GenCon!


And here's more (what I'm not quite ready to disclose on my "buy my games" website, heh heh) : The elevator pitch for Tales of the Fisherman's Wife could well be "A sex positive roleplaying game for lovers with demons and octopuses." Yeah. It's a tough concept to market, which is another reason why it's still an ashcan. I would love it if I could sell this game in other venues beyond games stores. See ya in a couple weeks or sooner.

Mission Statement Mission

In the past couple of years, I have committed a great deal of time and money to playing and designing role playing games. I'm getting to the point where the hobby pays for itself financially and I've received significant personal, social, and creative returns. So for now I'm getting what I put in. It can't hurt to ask occasionally, why make the investment, and to ask when the investment makes a positive impact on one's life.

There's an interesting conversation on Story Games on using cards (vs. dice) in role-playing games. It's prompted me to consider why I decided to write a role playing game, what keeps me interested in designing role playing games, and who is the audience I'm trying to reach with my games. So I'll ask my third question first.

I want to make games that would attract people who aren't Role Playing Gamers, in the traditional or "indie" sense. RPG's can be fun for people who hate TV, people who like board, card, or dice games, storytellers, folksingers. I would like for these people who don't come from an RPG background to bring what they like about story (or game) and play.

I think about how long it took me to actually play a role playing game, from the time I was first interested (elementary school), to when I first bought one (late 20's), to when I actually played one (a few years later). The things that kept me from jumping in when I was a kid were much different from the things that prevented me when I was an adult. As an adult, it was time, money, and stories to be told didn't grab me.

What I did like was the possibility to hang out with friends, not watch tv, and tell stories. I think those are attractive endeavors to more than just Role Players. So I want to make games that tell stories that perhaps you already know (like folk tales and myths), but you tell them at a different angle, with a different conclusion, different middle, or you bring in characters that don't have a great voice in the original telling, but could.

Also, the time thing. With two kids and full time job, my game time is quite limited. I won't rule out making a game that could go on for months or years, but I like the idea of shorter, single or multi-session games, so you get the satisfaction of a conclusion. This is a conversation I need to continue with myself.

Here's why I included the octopus picture: The Octopus Dating Game.

Octopus Falls in Love with You

Utagawa Kunisada.
Floating Bridge of Dreams
(Yume no ukihashi), 1854.

I'm making a game for Chris for two people, inspired by my freaky tattoo thing (so you know what kind of game it will be), called Tales of the Fisherman's Wife: Roleplaying the Floating World.

Set sometime in a fantasy Japan. When the Fisherman leaves for sea, he gives his wife 6 words to weave a story while they are apart. The Wife creates a story from his 6 words (see title of this post for example), which she tells him when he returns.

He rolls the d4 to determine how long he will be gone. 1-4 days. The longer he's gone, the more they miss each other. The more they miss each other, the more graphic her story.

The Wife rolls the d4 to determine how many fish he caught. The more fish, the more leisure they will enjoy. The more leisure they enjoy, the more input the Fisherman gives.

But the Fisherman and his Wife have caught the attention of kami, oni, or otherworldly beings who try to seduce, possess (or supplant), devour, or serve them. While the Fisherman fishes, the "Wife" Player plays the part of the being attached to him, and the Fisherman player plays the being attached to the wife. Players take turns playing out what happens while the lovers are apart and vulnerable to the demons or spirits.

Players must successfully hold off the spirits until the couple is reunited. The Wife's story should incorporate the couple's escapades while they are away.

It uses dice and cards. A short game, no more than an hour. That's what I have so far, what I came up with at work last night. Now I'm going to sleep on it.

A Very Merry Black History Month To You!

or, blah blah Black History Month.

Dude, every month is Black History Month for some of us. I was going to run a special at Stone Baby Games to celebrate the shortest month of the year, but I changed my mind. That said, you can purchase and download a pdf of the snazzy new revised Steal Away Jordan at IPR.

Instead, in celebration of the time when Black History gets a fighting chance to be considered American History, as opposed to something unique and largely unimportant to any other American, I bring you Black Hyperlinks! (which come in all different colors!)

On Friday I stuck a Barack Obama sign in our front yard. That same morning I woke up and I was an African American, just like the day before and the day before that.

Here's something you might not know about me (unless you're my mom, the Director of the African American Studies Department at University of Memphis): I was Harold Ford, Jr.'s escort to his beautillion in Memphis.

Chris and I just watched Prince Among Slaves. I really enjoyed this, so much so that I want to read the book. I was doubly pleased with the realization that one could tell this story using Steal Away Jordan! Yay, me! (A Black Woman in February!)

There's an awesome conversation about one of the Steal Away Jordan sessions I ran at Dreamation over at Story Games.

Best of all, and most significantly for me, Black History Month is the same month Ingrid joined the world, a decendent of both Americans, Africans, and Vikings.

So there you go, now go out and celebrate!

Diversion and Almost Famous

I've been in a funk for the past couple of weeks, and then I came across this. This is why I love You Tube.

Also there's a huge photo of me in the local paper today, along with Meg, Emily, and Vincent. They did a whole article about the local role playing game designing and playing scene. I bought six papers!

Playtest Me!

**Playtesting is over! Buy a copy!**

Last night I put the finishing touches on the rules draft of Steal Away Jordan. You can download the .pdf and the ugly character sheet here, on the condition that you playtest it and send me constructive feedback.

I've been going back and forth on the name. It's supposed to be the title of a spiritual, but it's actually the combined titles of two spirituals: "Get Away Jordan" and "Steal Away to Jesus." Jordan refers to the Ohio River. Cross over Jordan and you're in free territory. "Steal Away Jordan" just sounds good, though, and who's to say there isn't a song by that name?

Thanks in advance to all those nice playtesters who send constructive feedback.
Please leave a comment here if you download something.

Update!
The first playtest report!
The characters of the first playtest!

Mary Jackson 1885--??

On your right you see the one who looked most like how I imagined Mary Jackson, aka Parvati the Elastic Lady, formerly known as Elizabeth Batchelor to look like. I was first drawn to her eyes. She's cuter than she's beautiful, and I didn't imagine Mary to be a "hottie" per se, but to look as if she never aged a day over 17 (the age she was when she was almost lynched in New Orleans for Edmund's crimes.) I had mentioned earlier that I wanted to have fun with the idea that she could "pass" (she was caught impersonating a white woman), but unless she was shapeshifting, she wouldn't. This woman could probably pass if she wanted to. Judging from her clothes (and her wedding dress in the other picture), she came from a middle class black family, which was Mary's background. She joined the circus when her parents sent her to away to school. I think she knew she had a gift and wanted to see how she could use it. And she wanted to go on an adventure. The more she understood the gift, the more she liked the money and fun of grifting, and she realized she could not go back home. Then she got in trouble and really couldn't go home. Elizabeth Batchelor was dead. She was Mary Jackson.
And there's that ruffle. At first is was distracting, but did fit her, and stylishly concealed the noose scar.

So now that I have fabricated a history for this young lady, and our game is over, I'm really curious as to who she really is. Unfortunately, most of the portraits from the collection are of unknown men and women. Oh well. Elizebeth (with an "e") Batchelor (1873-1935) is actually a relative of mine, and she is buried in the family cemetary in Brownsville, TN.

In the spirit of this wonderful post by Meg on the Forge from our Sorcerer game, here is a letter that Mary wrote to her sister after all was said and done.
Summer 1911
Dear Sarah,
I enclose this old picture so that you know that Elizebeth batchlor wrote this letter. You'll remember it was taken just before your wedding in '01. I've not been called Elizabeth in many years, and most who know me outside of Savannah call me Mary Jackson. I'm sure it is a surprise to know that I had been alive all these years. Even more surprising, I mostly live in Paris, France. Remember how much I hated our French tutor? Well, I was listening.

I returned home once in April '02, but you all thought I had been lynched in New Orleans, and that was essentially the truth, but I did not die. I did not let you all know I was home because after attending my own memorial service, where I heard the testimony of how much pain I had caused you all by running away, I could not cause more by having to explain what happened to me. When I returned to my wandering I did not contact you or our parents as I fell in and out of trouble. Trouble follows me everywhere, and I did not want that trouble to reach you all. Yet, not a day passed since I ran away from home that you all have haunted my thoughts.

A year into my travels I discovered the name for my chameleon talent. Here's a funny word for you: I am a 'Shapeshifter.' There are many of us throughout the world. We tend to live on the fringes of polite society (much to mother's chagrin, so don't tell her that), blending in when we want to, retreating to the shadows when we have to. There are all types, like races, I suppose. I was recently formerly accepted into a sorority of shapeshifting contortionists who specialize in theft of identity in Paris, my new home. I have travelled through Europe and America, as a performer, and I have made a name for myself as a gifted contortionist and acrobat. If you must tell Mother and Daddy about this letter, please don't tell them I am a thief. Tell them I am a stage performer, and you won't be a liar.

This past year I toured with an interesting group of performers throughout Europe. I will only say that I have made good use of my acrobatic and stage talents, as well as my more nefarious gifts. I have three main companions: Ozcan, the handsomest white man I've ever seen. He has been like an older brother to me. He has a sister in Ireland, and bacause of some things he has done, he is not able to send for her. I still have no interest in political issues, and I think his family problems are tied up in English politics. I don't pretend to understand them. Our troupe has disbanded, and I have not heard from him since. I read an English newspaper that said he had died, but Ozcan is difficult to kill. The newspaper showed a photograph of his body riddled with bullets. I know all those bullets couldn't kill him that easily.

Then there's Chintzer, who eats things like live chickens! He looks like he should live under a bridge, but you'll never meet a more refined human being. I've never been one to judge by appearance alone (given I can change mine at will), I am not one to marry or settle, and I don't enjoy men's company, but if the stars were aligned differently, and I was more amenable to marriage, settling, and men, I think Chintzer (Arthur is his real name) would be a suitable candidate for a mate. I will keep my eye on him, in the unlikely event that I change my mind.

And lastly there is Edmund, an odious animal who was the root of all my trouble in New Orleans. He was the killer who should have hanged in my stead, and I suspect he did terrible things before and after that. And when I say "animal", I mean he is a werewolf--a cursed cousin of shapeshifters. I have only met two before him, and they were decent fellows. But not Edmund. Edmund is covered top to tail in tattoos which I believe he had applied to hide the shame of his deeds in life. He is a truly frightful thing to see. I saw him cut a piece of a man's arm, cook it, and eat it. Perhaps he didn't know that a 17 year old colored girl would never see fair justice. There is a naive part of me that wants to believe that.

At any rate, Edmund is in the past tense. I had the pleasure of killing him several months ago, and it was worth the trouble that followed. I write this letter en route to England to finish off his sister. I know I sound cold and brutal. Being brutalized and hanged by a lynch mob will do that to a person.

I have missed having a sister and a family all these years. I close with the request you be the sensible sister that you always were, and if you tell our parents anything tell them that I take care of myself as best I can, but that my path in life leads me through down some dark roads. It is up to you to tell them when I actually died, either in New Orleans in 1902 (because so much of me did it would not be a lie), tell them I am alive and well and living in Paris. I hope you will take the trouble to write me back and tell me how everyone at home is. But if not, I will understnad. Just know that I remain your wayward but loving sister.

All my love,
Elizabeth

I Could Have Said The Dog Ate My Homework

I need one more day before the draft rules of Steal Away Jordan will be ready to email to the nice folks who asked for one. But it's not becuase I haven't been working on it. I just need to type up the stuff I've worked on all weekend. I actually have working rules! Well, they work hypothetically. I incorporated everything I had [maggot] brainstormed. Unfortunately, forces beyond my control prevented me from actually typing any of it into an electronic document. But I was really productive, just in the old school, computerless way.

Friday, instead of going to Drum and Dance as originally planned, I was to go grocery shopping and then to either Cafe Koko or Lady Killegrew/Montague Book Mill and geek out with my laptop, some tea, and a pastry. Well, Primo came home from the gym late (why he needed to go to the gym for 2 1/2 hours when he planned to go snowboarding all day on Saturday is beyond me, and to comtemplate it any further will just make me sound like a bitchy wife.). So I could only go to Cafe Koko. So off I went, laptop on my back, Smashing Pumpkins blaring in my ears. At least I had the good sense to wear hiking boots. The sidewalks were crazy slick, and the roads were just as icy. Halfway down my street, I lost my balance and fell hard on my ass. I had to crawl to less slippery ground. I got up and kept walking, even though I felt like I had broken my butt. Ouch.

So I get to the cafe, and there's a live band. Great. Now when I was in college, I indulged in my vice to a much higher degree and listened to music all the time while I studied and wrote papers. I was a Religion major. It kinda worked. So I figured, no big deal, I can write game rules while a little "different" (as we used to call it) and there's music--loud music playing. And my back still hurt from the fall. Well, it would have been easier if a good band was playing, but they sucked. I stayed anyway. I didn't want to walk home just yet. So I pulled out my laptop and turned it on...and nothing happened. I figured I needed to plug it in. Well, that would be easy to do if there was an empty seat near an outlet. Fine, whatever, I like to write stuff out longhand anyway. I wrote a few pages on the role of the Rootdoctor/Conjurer, and jotted notes on slvery and religion. But I wished God would show up and replace the bad funk bad with, say, Funkadelic circa 1975, so I could hear "Good Thoughts, Bad Thoughts" live. But She didn't. I went home at 10:30 and didn't fall once. When I got home I discovered that the laptop had actually booted up. That was strange.

Saturday I cleaned the house, went grocery shopping, and had people over for stuffed squid, simmered daikon, mochi, and pizza. I broke out the latest batch of kombucha. I accidentally didn't add as much sugar this time, and it was much fizzier and tangier than usual. Of the people who tried it, I like it, Ingrid likes it, Vincent said he liked it, Joshua defiled it by adding sugar and then he said he liked it, Bea said she liked it, but she didn't want more than a swallow. I don't know if anyone else tried it. The dog took a dump on the rug as people showed up. I poured myself a second glass of wine and took him for a walk. (I had the first while I cooked.) I had a third drink (some tasty beer) just before we watched The Illustrated Man. I didn't make to the end. I fell asleep sometime after Primo came home from snowboarding and before Emily left. Bad hostess! This is why I don't drink very often. Or maybe I fell asleep so quickly because I don't drink very often. Either way, no work all day on game, but time spent cleaning the house, running errands, enjoying the company of friends, and drinking more than I have since my wedding anniversary in November.

Today, Sunday, we went to my in-laws, and I brought my laptop. But I forgot the cord, and the laptop only had about 10 minutes of power-time. So again, I worked for a couple of hours and wrote in my cutie pie kitty cat notebook. I finished tweaking the rules and worked out some things that I can ask my mom about when she comes to visit. And now I've spent an hour typing an explanation for why I don't have the rules ready to give to all the nice people who asked, and it's time to go fold laundry.

Tomorrow evening, really and truly!

Parthenia is Pregnant...

with Ideas...

I see a theme rising. Even my frogs in their tank behind me are croaking their mating calls again.

Last summer, my friends Crystal, Tonya, and I operated a booth at the Greenfield Farmer's Market most appropriately called "Three Dreaded Ladies". Sadly Tonya dropped out midway, but Crystal, her business partner Julie, and I continued for the rest of the season. Tonya made jewelery, I do herbal products for hair and skin, Crystal, at the time, made cloth diapers and an occasional mei tai traditional Asian baby carrier. Julie and Crystal have parted ways and Crystal will be selling handmade clothes. I'm not sure if Julie will continue on as our one not-literally-dreaded lady, but they diapers would round out our booth nicely.

On top of all the other making stuff and idea generating (i.e. game writing), I'm revisioning my part ("Parthenia's Herbals") of Three Dreaded Ladies. I plan to focus bar soaps first, then bath salts, healing salves, balms, and herb infused oils (hair oil, massage oil, bug repellent). I will prepare fewer brewed herbals like aftershaves, skin toners, and hair rinses. Those are my favorites, but they don't sell very well. I will certainly have edible love potions, as those generate the most praise and positive feedback, and they make most everyone happy.

I've been thinking about offering other edibles like kefir and kombucha, but that would require a Board of Health permit. I could join the Western Mass Food Processing Center and move all of my brewing, mixing, cooking, and curing activities there. The advantages are I would have more room, better equipment, and a safer place to make soap and heat up oils. If I do soap at home in the kitchen, I need someone to keep an eye on the kids because I'm working with hazardous materials and can't stop in the middle of mixing or pouring to take care of boo-boos and arguments. The disadvantages are purely financial. Basically the farmers market last year paid for my herb preparing hobby and my Thai food habit, and that was fine with me. I'd like to expand this year. Kombucha and kefir are incredibly easy and cheap to make, bottling and labelling would really be my biggest expense. If they caught on and sold well they could cover the added expense of being a member of the Food Processing Center. Since there's already one local Kombucha producer, I would most likely do more kefir and herb drinks, and try to find a source for local milk. That's not hard at all. You can also put kefir grains into grape juice and make an interesting sparkling beverage. That could be fun, too.

The week after Ingrid's birthday I'll make the first batch of soap. If any of you local reader wish to learn how to make soap, I will show you how. The cost to you is your labor. In the next few weeks I'll also have spare kombucha babies and kefir grains. And I'm always looking for human guinea pigs to try my herbals. Email me and let me know what you're interested in. And the revised rules for Get/Steal Away Jordan should be done by the end of this week. I was so productive last night that I fell asleep at 3 am, sitting up with the laptop on my lap. Before I dozed off, I managed to type up everything I had handwritten earlier in the week, and simplify the rules and mechanics. Another self-awarded gold star for Parthenia (who is most certainly not physically pregnant)!

Stone Babies

This is from William Buck's translation/interpretation of the Mahabharata:
"Dhritarashtra lost his sorrow in Gandhari's love, as a river is lost in the sea. She became pregnant by Dhritarashtra, but a full year passed by without her giving birth, and longer, until Dhritarashtra sent for Vyasa in dismay.

"Vyasa came to the king and said, 'Gandhari carries one hundred sons. She will give birth at the end of two years. Be patient and know that there is no danger to her, and I will return when it is time.'

"Vyasa then spoke with Bhishma, so that when Gandhari gave birth there were a hundred bronze jars filled with clear butter, ready and hidden in the palace garden. From her womb came a hard ball of flesh that Vyasa took from her and washed in cool water.
"'Here are your hundred sons,' he told Gandhari, 'but there is more to do before they are formed.'

"Vyasa divided that ball of flesh into pieces. As he worked in the garden, Bhishma put each piece into a jar and sealed it. At the end there was an extra piece. Bhishma brought another jar and Vyasa said, 'There are now one hundred sons and one daughter. See that the jars are not opened for two more years; then they will be born.'"

Warning: not for the faint of heart, or for people who don't like to read about fetal abnormalities used as plot devices. I had a hard time finding an accompanying picture that wouldn't completely turn people off.

The word of the day is Lithopedion. I found out about them at the Human Marvels website under "Pickled punks." No this isn't going to be a happy post, but you were warned.
Last night I described the lithopedions to my fellow gamers, after we played our game for the night. It's always fun to share the freaky and strange things you learn about on the internet. Emily said, "It's like the baby you found in your attic."
"There are no babies in my attic, what are you talking about?" I said.
In Shizuka's attic, she meant. Oh yeah. There are no babies in my attic. What are you talking about?

Stone Babies are character and plot device jewels. They're like trichobezoars. Creepy and freaky, they require pathological behavior from the character. In order to create a stone baby, you need a fetus to die in utero, and a mother to neglect or forget or otherwise ignore the fact that labor comes to no fruition or labor never comes. Then the fetus ossifies, calcifies, undected for years before the mother begins to feel discomfort or pain.

Gandhari's seed born children, (stone baby cousins?), the Kaurava, were the antagonists of the Pandavas in Mahabharata. The first born, Duryodhana, is an avatar (incarnation) of the demon Kali (not the goddess).

Anyway, I had no idea what a Lithopedion was until Tuesday night, but I've read Williams Buck's version of The Mahabharata about four times, and parts of the whole poem (translated into English) when I was in college. I love it when things click subconsciously like that.

Here are my two bad haiku about Stone Babies:

Lithopedion
Conceived, forgotten, dead child.
Now we are both old.

You died in my womb
I forgot to give you birth
Now you're a stone child.

Another Mahabharata translation.
Much better Haiku
More Anatomical/Physical Items of Note