Something clever goes here.
Just for future reference, when I’ve brought a vehicle to an event, the loading order is thus :
And it’s always good manners to chip in some gas money.
It had been nearly a year since the disappearance. They hadn’t found a body, they hadn’t found any evidence or any witnesses. That hadn’t stopped the rumours. They’d had a fight, he’d blacked out, she’d gone missing. To say that people were suspicious of his story was an understatement. The hostility had grown over time, as he had tried to live his life, attend classes and deal with the hole in his life where she had been. He’d been trying to function, but it had gotten progressively harder.
He’d gone out for drinks a few times, with the few people that were still willing to hang out with him, but when they’d called it a night, he’d kept on drinking. Every so often, his drinking would combine with circumstances to create an “incident”, and he’d need to find another bar to drink in. Preferably one further from the school, were he was less likely to run into people who knew his story. This usually worked fora while, though never for more than a few weeks.
And then one night, shit got really weird.
Last time I checked out iCandy, I was in a strange mood. I sat in a dark corner entertaining people with the neon wand and typed up an article on my phone, something that was technically against the rules of the club. This time, I’m in the same corner, but I’ve brought along a laptop and so my ability to type has greatly increased. I’m sure on some level, this is probably against the spirit of the rules, though I doubt anyone has been strange enough to bring a laptop with them to necessitate such rules. But, as always, I am the exception that prompts the rules, or at least the discussion regarding the rules.
Much of this intro can probably be discarded as irrelevant and pointless, but part of the process is to just develop the content, let the fingers flow across the keys and see what flows out. Sometimes, it’ll be something interesting, and sometimes it’ll be random noise. But there’s something to be said for the RNG. And at least I didn’t pull out the laptop and start playing KoL.
As a venue, I’m fond of Club 8×6. I still think the sound can be overwhelming at times, especially right now, while the pounding base is making it hard to type. Still, the people on the dance floor seem to be enjoying it. Briefly, I’m remind of the rave from Blade, and raves in general. This place has something of that in it, in it’s own way. The dance floor is less packed than one would expect from a rave, but there’s still a decent crowd enjoying it.
This particular piece won’t be making it into EV, since I’m currently focused too much on my own navel gazing. More than half the EV staff are here tonight though. Reive is around somewhere, I think. I am pretty sure I saw him earlier, though I haven’t spoken to him. I know our mysterious Editor and her man are around here, I checked in with them earlier. I was reminded that if I’m going to get people to embrace Slack I need to make better use of it myself. Mikey and Dave Toxic are around, I’ve spent a bit of time chatting with both of them. They seem in high spirits, which is good. Mikey is thinking he wants to work on his New Years piece. I suspect the battery on my hotspot will die before then, unless I stop at 7-11 for a cheap USB cord to recharge it.
Here I am at a party, near the supplies that one could use to write up a name tag, and yet I haven’t bothered to make one for myself. I could put myself out there, with the green card. I could make an effort to signal and communicate non-verbally, my interest in play of various forms. Except that to do that, I’d have to actually be able to put into written word what my interest is. And despite the various fantasies that still exist in my brain, I’m not sure what I’m actually interested in at this point. I’ve interest in things, but I’m not sure I know how to handle the fancy wiring bits to turn the facade into something functional.
Interestingly enough, so far only two people have commented on the laptop and the fact that I’m sitting here typing away. I’m not sure what that says about our culture, if anything at all.
Earlier, I was playing a board game, Splendour, with one of the cupids, the on site matchmakers. Nice guy, and he picked up the game fairly quickly. I think it fits in as one of the appropriate games for this sort of venue. It’s simple enough to teach in a few minutes, requires no complicated communication, and the cards and tokens are nicely resilient. The fact that we were playing a board game seemed to draw a considerable amount of attention, with a couple of people watching the majority of the game. Then again, it might have just been the time of night it was, early enough that things were still getting started. Hard to say.
Nearly 700 words at this point, and only a handful that could be recycled into an article that is actually about this event. I suppose I could consider various approaches and focuses that would actually lead to a real article, but currently I’m not sure I have the fortitude for that. I think my navel gazing will continue for a bit longer.
Given the article I wrote the other day on consent culture over on EV, I should be making an effort to connect with people and to play. But for whatever reason, I’m uninspired to do that. I think it’s the loud music and the lighting. It doesn’t strike me as a place to develop the rapport that I currently feel that I need. Though that might just be an excuse, a lie I’m telling myself to justify my lack of motivation, and my lack of motivation is probably rooted in my expectation of rejection. Polite rejection, I’m sure, but also inevitable rejection. I’m sure when she reads this, Recklie will roll her eyes, since she’s convinced that I’m the one rejecting connections. Or at least that was what she saw when she was looking through my chat logs the other day.
Ah, fun. The fellow who triggered that unpleasantness the other night is standing over there. Also, standing across the way is the source of the original unpleasantness, though I’ve no concern about a conversation with him. His ego will protect me from that. The other fellow though, he might try to make conversation, though I suspect he also has other fish on his hot plate.
Despite the negativity in my current view, I seem to be writing with a certain wit, one that I can’t recall having access too recently. Perhaps I should continue with the Drunken Wormhole project. Though I really need to rename that. It needs a proper title, something that hints at the end game, rather than throwing it out there without the appropriate ceremony.
It’s funny, I’m feeling like my bubble is being invaded by the people flirting near me. It’s gotten to the point where it’s actively disrupting my ability to write. Damn.
More later, perhaps.
While I showered this morning, I thought about who I am and how I communicate. In some ways, I’m a fairly private person, and in others I’m rather open about things. I try to be transparent about things, and that means it’s mostly things that I feel have no ability to harm me. Areas where I feel vulnerable, become fairly obfuscated. They are still there, but I tend to adjust the lighting around them so they’re harder to notice.
For the most part, these tend to be things that I feel would be “whining” to talk about. I find I’m more about to write about them, because then I’m not actively taking up someone’s time, unless they choose to take the time to read it.
I don’t recall how much I’ve actually expressed about various things. I know I’ve ranted about them from time to time, but it’s generally been to a fairly limited audience.
I think I need to work on that. But in the mean time, I suspect I’ll just spend more time writing about it here.
Background : (Why I got the game, skip if you don’t care about context)
A while back, I heard great things about Xia from a couple of different people. A guy at the local Trumpeteer Gaming club was drooling over the copy he’d gotten from the Kickstarter campaign, and it was mentioned by a couple of podcasts I’d listen to. I’ve gotten a bit burnt out on Kickstarter, after the Zombicide and Miskatonic School for Girls failed to live up to the hype. I’ve still got the bonus minis for Zombicide, which are apparently selling for a ton each, though not locally, and I’m trying to decide how best to sell them off. With that in mind, I wasn’t sure how much of the game’s hype was the post-Kickstarter rationalization process and how much was legitimate appreciation. Anyways, the other night, I accidentally sold off some Warhammer stuff that I’d had kicking around the basement and managed to get a copy of Xia : Legends of a Drift System in trade for the balance.
The game is 3-5 players, and we happened to have 3 players over at my house last night. That gave us a choice between Xia and Dead of Winter, which I still haven’t played. Given that we’d spent a bit of time talking about Star Citizen that day, Xia was the obvious choice.
Components and Setup :
We opened the box and were impressed with the quality of the components. The materials feel great. Solid cardstock and a nice variety of pre-painted ships. And plenty of plastic storage bags for sorting out the components. It took us a bit of time to understand all the pieces and where they should go.
We watched the Tutorial video on FarOffGames site, it helped quite a bit, though it didn’t go into the mechanics much. We read the rules, played the into game, the one with the 5 point goal. It went quickly, with Dimestore almost wining the game in his first turn, through a nice bit of luck in the draws. The other player, Kilo, managed to blind jump into a star, killing himself instantly. With that under our belt, we reset the game and started up again.
First Real Game:
This time, we set the point counter at 10 and put together our ships. I made an attempt to travel into the the nebula to harvest plasma to sell on a nearby planet. I managed to get one cube worth of energy from the nebula before my ship’s power supply had been drained to the point where I was worried I wouldn’t make it back to the dock to recharge. Dimestore decided to try scanning for new systems, wary of blind jumping into danger. Kilo decided to pick up a couple of missions and managed to perform “Science!” on a local planet. Basically, the game was living up to the promise of being a sandbox. Dimestore blind jumped through the shields of one of the planets, getting himself a bounty in the process. We attempted to find the rules for getting rid of a bounty, but apparently you can’t buy them off, not that he really had the credits for it anyways. One of the discovered planets was willing to sell plasma so I was able to set up a nice trade route, running plasma from one planet to another. Kilo continued to perform missions while Dimestore explored, looking for a planet to deliver his mission to. He managed to find an amazingly powerful trade route, one that could be achieved twice during a single turn. These two trade routes turned into a race to see who could upgrade their ship the fastest, and we hit the 10 point marker before getting to play with the tier 3 ships. I think next time we’ll play a longer game.
We sorted out the components and cleaned up the game, and it’s definitely on our list to play again in the future. After that, I updated my game list over on Boardgamegeek, putting in ratings for a bunch of things we hadn’t bothered to rate.
Summary :
I like it, and I’ll play it again. It has a nice mix of space theme, cool mechanics and options for gaining Victory points. It is very much a sandbox game, which is something I’ve always been fond of in video games, but hadn’t really seen much of in the way of board games.
The models are all really neat and fairly distinctive. The ships each have their own special powers and the outfit system, which is basically an inventory-tetris mini-game for the various components and the cargo, works really well. I can imagine an expansion that includes missions with specific cargo requirements that would be really interesting.
It does require a decent amount of table space, and we probably need to come up with some better solutions for storing the outfits. While piling them up in stacks on the table sort of works, they tend to get messy once you start upgrading ships and moving them to make more space on the table.
I think one video game comparison would be FTL, though I’ve seen others compare it to Freelancer. Television wise, it’s clearly Firefly or maybe Red Dwarf. Or I suppose Cowboy Bebop.
I’m not sure how common the game is at this point, but it’s certainly not impossible to get currently, unlike a few other games I could mention. If someone in your local gaming circle has it, give it a try. If not, it might be worth getting, as the component are a good value for the cost and the game is quite a bit of fun.
“Let me get this straight, you’re pounding on his door to tell him his fiancée’s parents are going to murder him if he doesn’t get her home immediately” she paused, grinning “and he tells you that he just came out of the closet. And neither of you find that funny.” She quirked her eyebrow, “at all?”
“I would, if I knew where she was. Maybe.” He sighed and rubbed his head. The coffee was helping a bit. “I’m worried about her.”
“You two broke up, didn’t you? Why is it your problem where their spoiled brat ended up?” She frowned at James and then turned to the other man. “And what the hell Duggan, why are you playing their messenger boy?”
The grizzled man rolled his eyes. “Campus security, kinda my job. Faculty upset about missing student daughter, that’ll be paperwork.” His tone was light, but his muscles were tensed. “I’d really like to avoid another incident.” He quoted with his fingers. “The last one, do you know how many hours I spent staring at the footage?”
“John, look, I don’t remember much. I don’t even really remember the fight that Anna here has clearly heard about.”
“You don’t remember the fight? You don’t remember how she slapped you in front of a handful of your friends, and shoved you into the bushes. How can you not remember that!?”
“Oh, well, that does explain these.” James slides back his shirt sleeves and rubs his finger along a series of scratch marks on his forearms.
“Damn it man.” Duggan reaches down into his knapsack and pulls out a red kit. He unzips it and pulls James’ arms across the cafe counter towards him. His manner is mechanical as he inspects the wounds. He taps his earpiece once and resumes his examination. “Record. Medical supply log. James Gorman. Minor scratches on both arms. Application of disinfectant and the goo. Both containers still fairly full. End and mark for transcription.”
“Alcohol is the cause of and solution to all of life’s problems.” – Homer Simpson –
For James Arthur Gorman, it certainly started his problems. Gorman was invited out to a party to celebrate his recently published paper; not normally a drinker, the good news and lack of stress encouraged some indulgence. A whirling dance of images and sounds later, he wakes up to a pounding in his skull and on his door. Disoriented, he attempts to make sense of where he is. He’s on the ground, in a small space; reaching out his arms find the walls with ease. He can easily touch the four walls. Reaching up, he finds cloth above him. His hands continue to explore the room, eventually finding the something cold. It shifts and the wall behind him falls backwards, spilling him out into the light, burning into his brain. The image that floats above his tightly shut eyes is familiar to him, but somehow wrong. Then he realizes it’s wrong because while it’s his living room, it’s upside down. Except it can’t be, so he must be. The pounding continues, louder now.
His mouth opens and he tries to speak. The sound that comes out is incoherent, but the pounding stops. At least the pounding outside his head.
“James, are you in there? Open the damn door!”
James; that was him. He should answer. He should get up, and find water and pull himself together.
“James, we need to talk. What the hell happened last night?”
Last night – that was a blur. He tried to remember, but the images wouldn’t hold still. “I, we, celebrated…” his voice sounded hoarse but he was able to form words. “… I woke up in the closet. I’m about half way out so far.”
Well, I went out for New Years eve. And not long ago, I made it home. The last leg of my trip home was a 3 km walk, from Renfrew up to my place. During the walk, I had a decent amount of time to reflect. Right now, my gut says that it was likely my last night out at Noir or other kink events for the foreseeable future. It was not a bad night, but a few minor things have left me feeling like I need to take some time away from things for a bit. The difficult part of that is that I’ve recently committed to helping grow Erotic Vancouver, including a highlight article on the upcoming Taboo show. I’d also started to spearhead a charity project, but either someone else can pick that idea up or it can sit on the back burner for a while. I’m sure very little of this makes sense, and part of it is probably the result of the minimal amount of sleep I managed last night, but I need to pay more attention to my boundaries, rather than ignoring them as I’ve tended to do. If something makes me feel wrong or upset, I should get some space from it. So that’s what I’m doing.
Well, it’s the 29th of December. On Wednesday, I’ve got a shift, and then in theory, I could go out to Noir. I’ll have friends there, and I’ll have the excuse of having the neon wand set up for demos. Though if I’m doing that, I’ll be sober. And right now, I have an odd inclination to get drunk again. The problem with that is that I lack someone to make sure I get home safe.
Odds are, I’d be fine. I have a tendency to stay functional, no matter how drunk I get. But at the same time, I’ve got a certain paranoia about that.
It seems like it would be easier to stay home and play Dragon Age Inquisition for 18 hours straight, while drinking caffeine and perhaps something alcoholic. Or not. I bought the game for myself for my birthday, still haven’t opened it yet. Would have saved money by buying it on boxing day.
Money hasn’t been a big motivator for me, because when I start to think about it, I tend to become a jerk. If I ignore it, I’m not greedy, but if I start to focus on it, I become much more mercenary. It’s an aspect of myself that I don’t like. It’s also something that gets me in trouble, when I don’t bother to budget properly. But, I’m getting better at that.
This post, and probably the last few posts have lacked punch. They’ve lacked something worth reading. But, it’s better that I write and get things out of my head. It’s good to practice, playing with my words. One area I really need to work on is dialogue, since that’s an area I think I’m weakest in. I have a hard time with the nuances of natural conversation.
I’ve got two posts, maybe three, that are in my drafts folder. One of them has actual thought behind it. I think I need to take some time to work on them. But it’s hard to get into the right headspace lately.
I think I need to adjust my days off in the new year, preferably so I’m getting a pair of days off in a row, rather than the On-On-On-Off-On-Off-On schedule that I’ve been doing. I think that’ll help me in clearing my head and getting out of the bit of a rut that I feel like I’ve gotten into creatively.
With Christmas and New Years over, the next thing on the Horizon will be Taboo, which will be interesting this year. I’ll be working for Erotic Vancouver and we’ve got some awesome Taboo plans. After that, Valentine’s day, and with luck, my Saint Valentine’s day charity massacre. And then Gotta Con. I’ve got a few plans for that, though I suspect it’ll be a little weird.
I’ve long been known to rant about my frustration with the modern world in regards to the signal to noise ratios, specifically the frustration I have with the difficulty of recognising craft from dross.
We are in an era where everyone can have a voice, but most haven’t developed the skills required to recognise when it is wisest to be quiet.
In various circumstances, that ignorance benefits those who are either playing the odds or who are oblivious to negatives of the reactions they generate. Some individuals are happy to spray forth a stream of generalised inquires, happy with their 1% (or less) response rate, because they are at least getting responses.
I tend to prefer to craft something personal, taking the time to consider what I can learn about them from what they’ve written and what I think the possible connections could be.
The problem is, both of those messages appear in the inbox in the same way. While I can do a little to distinguish myself from the horde, the messages will only convey that to someone who is actually looking for it, and most are simply scanning, as it is but one of fifty plus messages that they’ve received since their last log on.
It is a case of signal to noise. Like using an old analog radio in a crowded space. As you twist the dial, you’ll pick up snatches of content. Sometimes, you’ll find something that interests you, but most of the time you’ll settle on something clear, rather than finding what you really want.
This is the fourth or fifth time I’ve opened a window and stared at the page, trying to clean up my thoughts into words. The last few times I’ve decided to install Linux or browse Facebook instead of actually writing.
I’m having a hard time expressing myself because I don’t consider my current concerns to have high stakes. They are meaningless in the bigger picture. Petty and small, yet somehow they are still managing to cripple me.
Not to long ago, I looked at a thread on reddit asking people why they were really single. While I thought about what my answer would be, I scanned through the list, plenty of people with answers along the same lines as mine would have been. Obviously I’m not alone in being alone.
A friend was trying to help me with my OK cupid profile the other day. She’d found a great guy on there, and figures I should be able to have the same luck.
I appreciate her support, but a big part of the problem is that while I’m lonely, I’m not sure how ready I am to actually be involved with anyone.
A few months back I met someone from the site and we got along well. It seemed like it was something, but suddenly it was gone. Before that I think I’d made various attempts at dating, but my recollections aren’t overly clear.
I know at one point I’d thought I had chemistry with someone at a kink event and then been told that the person didn’t have time for any other relationships in their life. Not long after, that same person started complaining in her FetLife status posts about a lack of sadists in her life. At that point, I could have approached her, I could have commented on it, or a few other tactics. Instead, I removed her from my friends list, as it was my discomfort that was the issue.
Perhaps that is a cowardly way of dealing with the issue, I likely would have considered it that a few years back. On the other hand, it was my problem. I was the one bothered by what was communicated and I had no real investment in the “friendship”, so best to move on.
Is this a pattern of avoidance on my part? There is one girl that I’ve been talking to for a year or more, who I originally tried to help get out of an abusive relationship. We’ve hung out a few times, talked about it going somewhere, but it hasn’t gone past teasing. She also has an fwb who she is loyal to, but who doesn’t seem to deserve that loyalty. From what she has said, their relationship has violated her boundaries a few times, and she’s accepted it. It bothers me. She showed me what he got her for Christmas. That was a wake-up call for me. I’ve told her that I’m going to be distant for a while, that I’m probably going to be getting more distant. It bothers me that someone I am fond of is taking part of something that makes her sad.
I’m sure I could talk longer about this, but I’ve run out of time for now.
Back from dinner with the family, attempting to recover my train of thought.
I have a handful of people that I’ve managed to open up to, but the amount I’ve opened up has probably been reshaped over the last few years. It’s probably deceptively shallow, in that the stuff I’ve gotten comfortable with has gotten broader, but the specific details have faded away.
Apparently my psyche is best compared to a bog at this point. Random patches of solid ground surrounded by a mess of unstable soil, punctuated with random sink holes.
The girl I’d mentioned earlier got upset with me for posting about her, rather than talking to her about the issue. I posted about it because I’m trying to understand the pattern that I’m going through. It was about her, but only in as much as she was someone who was there for it. The bigger issue, the thing I was writing about, was how I was handling things. Rather than making an attempt to compete, I’m backing down and wandering off.
I’ve been doing that lately, but it’s also something I picked up a while ago. I don’t see the point in competing for people. Part of it is that people aren’t prizes, so competing for them isn’t something I’m comfortable with anymore. Part of it is that I’ve gotten a negative view of my own self worth.
I should be in a good place. I’ve got a job that I like and that I’m good at. I’ve got friends that I enjoy spending time with. I’ve got interesting projects that I’m working on. I have been getting a good night’s sleep most nights. My back isn’t bothering me, nor is my bad knee.
And yet I’m not. I’m aware that I’m in this weird downward spiral of negativity. I don’t know how to get out of it. I’m fully aware of it, but nothing seems to help.
I should get out and exercise more, maybe that will help. I took a walk today, maybe I’ll have time for one before work tomorrow.
I attempted to make connections with people, attempted to find someone on a dating site, but that just leads to me doubting myself and my value. Not to mention the random blows to my ego that come from just being on a dating site.
The whole dating site concept bothers me. I was having a conversation with someone on one of the sites, she asked for some info. I provided her with the information and a few days later asked if she’d had time to read it. Her response was that she that she had over 100 messages in her inbox, so she’d get back to me eventually. That’s great. I’m sure part of it is the whole shiny newbie fresh meat thing, but it’s also the fact that there are always plenty of men on dating sites, and from what I’ve seen, the majority of them are eager to find something. Hell, some would argue even desperate.
When it comes down to it, it’s a signal to noise ratio issue. And I don’t have a clue how to build an amp, and I certainly can’t help anyone install a filter. I suppose the best I can do is look for alternative channels.
I’m over at my parents place, fixing their network connections and being social. In theory, I’m here for a holiday dinner. And another one later in the week. Given how little sleep I managed to get last night, I’m a bit on the grumpy side. When I got here, I took a shower, to freshen up and wake up a bit. While in the bathroom I used the scale. I haven’t used one in a long time, probably a good 6 months, maybe longer. I’m heavier than last time I looked at it, which makes sense. I’ve been walking daily, but I’ve also been more sedentary than prior to starting this job. So, 332.6 Lbs at 33.087 years old.
Sometimes, you find a certain pocket of reality, a sweet spot in the the slipstream of fate. It’s a delicate little hollow, that you can only know by feeling the disruptions along the edges. As long as you ride with it, everything works. I had one of those nights tonight.
It’s been nearly a week since I posted. The last week was a rough one. There was a bit of an issue at work which resulted in some of extra hours, and I managed to turn my cold into a respiratory infection for a few days. All in all, I’m really grateful for that lovely electric fire that faces my bed. I don’t think I’d have recovered as fast without it.
I found out I’m going to be losing another friend, but this time on good terms. I won’t be able to make it out to his going away party, but we had a nice meal the other day.
I’m still trying to figure a few things out. I’ve wasted another weekend, because I didn’t feel up for anything. Partially it was a health issue, partially it was a lack of things I’d like to do, and people I’d like to do them with.
I’ve got Thursday off this week and I’ve booked that evening for hanging out with Dimestore. There is a chance we’ll try out Doomtown Reloaded, or maybe some Netrunner, or some other random board game. I’d like to find a few more people to join in for that.
Speaking of Netrunner, in a previous post, I said there were two Tournaments this month. Well, I managed to fail to attend both of them. The first one was because of complications and the second was health issues. Either way, I haven’t built a deck I’m happy with in a while, so it wasn’t a big loss. I need to get deeper into that mindset. Either that or I need to spend more time on OCTGN.
I can’t recall the last time I’ve been out for a munch. Probably at least 3 months. I made the time to come out to this one, expecting to go out to the TNG group to support them. However, I ended up at the Kinky and Geeky, though I’m not exactly sure why I made that decision.
One factor would be that there’s a one shot game of the Laundry files happening at the Kinky and Geeky and I haven’t played an RPG in ages. We’ve attempted to get our Shadowrun game up and running again for a while, but without much luck.
The Laundry Files is a series of books by a British author focused on the bureaucratic solution to the problem of non-standard math allowing people to access the parts of reality where the really nasty things live. The Laundry is a department that doesn’t exist, that employs people who have seen things that shouldn’t be seen and survived. Better to give them a job and a pension rather than melting their mind while trying to wipe it.
Once again, Live blogging from an event, because that’s something that I find amusing.
We’ve all just arrived to work and we’ve been called up to Mahogany Row. Based on the file they gave us, they want to send us to West African nation for reasons they’ve yet to explain. I’m playing a female computational demonologist, carrying an iphone with some pre-loaded spells and a laptop with some warding.
Around the table with me are a variety of other people playing other members of the Laundry. Of them, two have familiarity the Laundry and the others with passing familiarity with Lovecraftian horrors. Overall, probably a decent group for a horror RPG.
Great, our job is to rescue hostages from a Liberation army. Rebels aren’t the friendliest in the best of times, but in a dictatorship, that seems suicidal. Especially an isolationist dictatorship. No diplomatic contact in more than a few decades.
As a demonologist, I’ve no idea idea how I’d be useful in a situation like this.
We’ve got an extraction team, which might come in handy, once we find the hostages. If we find the hostages. Bloody students. Why did they get themselves in this sort of trouble? And why do the the powers that be think it’s a good idea for us to be sent in to get them out?
Oh. Right. Cults. That explains everything.
There was a dagger, it was used by a cult, and it was lost in the country before the diplomatic channels were cut off. We need to find it and recover it. We aren’t allowed to destroy it without getting clearance from Mahogany row.
The hostages are secondary priority, if that.
We’re being flown into hostile territory.
I attempt to install the Thaumometer into my Warding Laptop to create a better scanner system. I succeed, creating a short burst scanner that’ll allow me to check a single building in a burst. So, once we find where the knife is likely being kept, we’ll be able to narrow it down in a hurry.
The Military checkpoint is nicely intimidating, like any good military checkpoint into a west African dictatorship. I’m not carrying any obvious weapons. The other members of my team have weapons, but nothing that would be a threat against the mounted guns that the guards have trained on us.
The city that we are driving through looks like a shanty town, something out of the worst of the third world. But given that they’ve been cut off from the rest of the world for decades, that’s not surprising. What is surprising is that there are some fresh power lines that have been run out to a large facility. There are also cellular towers. Given that we know they’ve been working with the Chinese to improve their infrastructure, it isn’t surprising, but it is strange, the limited nature of the upgrades.
And now we’ve arrived at a colonial mansion that has been upgraded with the latest technology. Big Screen TVs and leather couches. The place is kitted out like a 5 star hotel.
We also get a better view of the power grid, confirming that it was running out to the Chinese compound. Which has a certain alien aspect to it.
The solider in the party manages to arrange for a tour of the facilities. I stay back in the rooms to do some hacking, while the rest of the team checks out the mansion.
Now we’re in a meeting with the headman, who has decided to telecommute to the board room. So we’re in a mansion, and he’s up in a palace some place in the hills.
We’ve got a possible lead with the cultural museum. It’s possible the knife ended up there. We’ve also got a criminal mastermind, so she can probably locate the underground, and through that find the rebels and perhaps negotiate with them.
The translator, rather than asking the guard where he could shoot his gun, he asked the guard where he could shoot at him. This appears to have caused some commotion. The stealth members of the team took advantage of this to escape out over the wall. Actually, judging by what the captain said, he offered to carpet bomb some villages.
And then the translator decided to cast a crazy powerful scrying spell, by hand. And despite the huge penalty, he managed to succeed. Though this might have melted his brain. It may have also melted my Thaumometer. But I didn’t notice, because I was in the hot tub, gambling for bullets with the guards. I apparently turned my two bullet stake into six bullets. So I returned the original pair of bullets to the solider on our team.
The diplomatic officer used the Sleep-App on the necronomiphone to contact our superiors. She received some serious information, the sort that required her to gain a new clearance level.
The stealth team managed to find out that the local church appears to be controlled by the cult of the bloody tongue. The stealth team cocked their pistol, and then the guys dragging the body to the altar dropped the body and turned their guns on the stealth team, and the cultists. The stealth team managed to dive into cover, the majority of the bullets went into the crowd of cultists, who didn’t stop chanting.
They managed to escape into the night.
The translator has woken up in the morning and decided to burn the paper he had used the night before to cast the spell. He failed to notice the smoke detector, so the guards decided to come in. The guards heard the alarm and tried to enter the room. He responded with “Don’t come in, I’m enjoying my fire time.” At this point, the guard broke down the door, finding him in the bathroom, with blood smeared on his face, and dark circles under his eyes, and a bathtub filled with burnt paper.
At this point, we have a briefing. We know that the knife is in the Chinese compound, where it may be guarded by otherworldly monsters.
We know that the cult leader can use the knife to become an avatar of the bloody tongued one, who is probably an elder god of some sort. There also appear to be Ents with iron teeth. Ah, right. it’s Nyarlathotep.
I glance down at my phone. Its 4:04. Having spent far too much of my life online, the first thought that crosses my mind is 404, file not found. Then I start to reflect on my circumstances.
I have a place that I reside. It isn’t home, but it’s the place where I’ve spent the last decade and where I’ll likely spend the next decade. It should be home, it has all the elements of a home. Somehow there’s something missing. Most likely its only in my head.
Home is where the heart is, the cliche says. In that case I’ve no idea where home is, as I’ve long ago lost track of my heart.
On some level, I moved my home online years ago, when I found a community out there that I was comfortable with. And as the new shiny stripped away the oldbies, singly or in batches, that feeling of home faded into nostalgia. So with nothing to hold me to that place, I’d go wander the back alleys of the global village, looking for another quiet virtual corner to hang up my hat in.
The problem with the net is the disconnect that some people have between their meatspace and wirehopper faces.
For whatever reason, I grew out of that distinction. I suspect its because I have no faith in my ability to project a persona that would appeal to people. Rather than trying to appear as someone more likeable, I just accept that I’ll be misunderstood and embrace my inner curmudgeon. Some people will disagree that I qualify as such, but I think when it comes down to it, I’ve got it down. I want people to do the right thing, but I expect them to act like selfish idiots. I’d like to be proven wrong, but more often than not, they’ll make a choice that’ll make me silently shake my head.
That’s not to say I’ve lost my ability to be silly. Just that my internal auditor has slid his chair closer to my inner ear and he’s making sure he’s heard over the other impulses lurking there.
This seems to result that people see me as more stern and disapproving than I would want to be.
Well, I’m sitting here about to have some BBQ at Memphis Blues with our good friend The Tallest, aka Tall Alex.
Earlier today, I popped onto Facebook today to check in on things and saw he was actually online for a change. His plans had been buggered, so I offered to help him out with the move. We set up a plan and head out for a meetup near Stadium Skytrain. After I get on the bus, he calls me with an update. He’s getting a 1-ton for tomorrow, so the rush job with the Modo truck isn’t needed today. Instead, we can hang out and be social. I can’t remember the last time he and I hung out. It was probably back in October.
Anyways, he gives me the news that he’s heading out of town. Back to Ontario. The man who has crossed the country for love once has decided to do it again. Well, I wish him the best. For now, we’ve got BBQ and some (root) Beer.
The other night I noticed that Oculus had shown up on Netflix. I’d been wanting to see if ever since FlayOtters a.k.a Charlie from Austin had talked about it on Horror Show Hot Dog. I hadn’t gotten around to seeing it in the theatre, though that’s no surprise. I almost never see anything in theatres these days.
Last night, I decided to watch it before bed. It probably would have been better to watch it with someone, but opportunities for that are rare lately. It has a nice tense atmosphere and for a change, I didn’t get bored and start playing games on my cell phone.
It’s a smart film, with the horror kept mostly subtle. At this point, I’d say if you intend to watch it, stop reading. What I’m going to discuss after this point will probably spoil some if not most of the fun of watching it.
The film revolves around a mirror, which contains something evil. It extends a sphere of influence in which it can screw with reality. It drains the life from plants and small animals, using that energy to create hallucinations and to corrupt people. It’s a smart premise, a nice clear set of boundaries.
There are two main characters, a brother and a sister, who first encountered the mirror as children. The “present” is a decade later, when the brother has been released from the psyche ward, and is trying to get on with his life. The sister has managed to recover the mirror and intends to destroy it. She has done her research and is fully prepared to fight it. The brother is in denial about it, his therapists having convinced him that the events were tragic but mundane. So, we’ve got the nice pairing of believer and skeptic.
For a change, the believer is playing it smart. She’s rigged up a series of systems designed based on what she’s been able to research about the mirror. She has a few cameras set up to observe it, some fancy sensors, some analog clocks to remind her to change the tapes and to eat, and something akin to the sword of Damocles; a boat anchor positioned to smash into the mirror and destroy it. This dead man’s switch is her protection against the influence of the mirror, the idea being that if she’s dead, she won’t reset timer and so the mirror will be destroyed. And since the mirror seems to be intelligent, it’ll know that. However, she wants to prove that the mirror is evil and responsible for the death of her parents. So, she needs to give it some time to screw with them before destroying it.
On some levels, this premise really fits. You’ve got a reason for them to be there, a reason for them to be interacting with it rather than just actively destroying it, but you’ve also got a fairly high probability that something will go wrong. It works, and there are times when you initially wonder if the issue is just in her head.
The problem is that all of her precautions rely on humanity. A few are electric, but she expects those to fail. The anchor is on a kitchen timer and thus in theory out of reach of this thing. Except it screws with people, and there are two people in the house who could effect the timer.
In some ways, this movie reminds me of 1408. It isn’t someone being screwed with by something they have no idea about, it’s someone trying to face down something they are prepared for.
I enjoyed it, and I think it’s worth watching. And I’ve decided not to spoil the ending.
Well, Dimestore and I got our Warhorn clearance today. We can now register for the various festivities. Well, we could, if the site was actually letting us register, which it doesn’t seem to be doing. (After a quick email to the organizer, it is now working.)
I’m wanting to do the midnight game again, as it’s an experience you can’t get anywhere else. But I wonder if that’s being selfish. We’ve done it before, maybe we should leave the slots for people who haven’t experienced a multi-table game before.
I think I want to compete in a few of the tournaments. Netrunner, for sure. Lords of Waterdeep, probably. Not sure what else would be fun.
I’ve got my tickets for the Nude Hope and Portal 2 show. Those should be good, I enjoy what the Geekenders have together in the past.
I wonder if Dimestore and I should put together a Shadowrun Missions session or maybe a game of Crossfire.
If I had access to more copies of Arctic Scavengers, running a mini-Tournament of that could be extremely amusing. Call it the Frozen North Tribal Challenge. Perhaps pick a few other games with a similar theme and make it into a charity event. I like that idea. I wonder if I can convince anyone else it’s worth doing.
I’m experimenting with adding social media functionality. I don’t know if I’ll keep it or not. In theory, it makes it easy for people to pass along my thoughts to others. But I can’t help feeling like it’s begging for more eyes, and I’m not sure I like that. Well, no, I am sure, I dislike it. But it’s how the net works, so I should at least give it a shot before ripping out that functionality.
Evolution is easier when you are able to yank out the parts you dislike and replace them. No need to wait for successive generations, just adaptation. That’s the real appeal of cyborgs. They are the epitome of instant gratification in personal improvement.
There’s a tournament at Starlit on Saturday. Dimestore and I signed up for it. However, he’s got a couple’s day with his wife instead, so I’ll be going in solo. This tournament has a special prize for flatlines, so I’m working on a killer deck for a change. I’m a bit stumped on ice balance currently. I’ll probably work and rework it for a few hours tonight.
After the tournament, there’s two options depending on the timing. Make an effort to go check out the local vampire LARP or relax for a bit. I’ve got a birthday party later that night, so that’s where I’ll eventually be, unless I start feeling antisocial again. Though I’ll probably show up as I bought the host a present and so I should go at least to deliver that. I think in theory it’s something he’ll enjoy, but perhaps I’m wrong.
Monday I helped friends move. Showed up with a cargo van, we loaded it to the gills, drove over, unloaded it. Rinse and Repeat. No major hassles, no injuries. A couple squished fingers but no blood for a change.
Afterwards, the timing worked out for me to hit up the local ingress cross faction meetup, something I haven’t done for ages. I probably haven’t done it since I got this job, if not perhaps a bit longer. Given that I tend to only have a weekday night free a week and I’ve had a backlog of social obligations to work through. But, I was parking the moving van nearby that night, and the food there is decent, so I dropped in to be social. A few people were glad to see me, a few people didn’t know me, and a few people were weird. But that’s no surprise. I learned a few things, and I had a few beer. Interesting flavors. That is the one benefit of eating there, you can usually find a tasty brew to go with your meal.
Things got a bit uncomfortable for me when a former friend showed up. I thought about leaving, but I’d already made plans with Dimestore for him to swing through on his way home to grab a datapack from me, so I decided to stick around. For the most part, it was clear we weren’t at the same table. When Dimestore showed up, I pointed out that he was there, they said hello and had a nice conversation. Mildly interesting, since this friend had cut ties with Dimestore and I at the same time, since my stubbornness was obviously contagious. Anyways, it was uncomfortable for me, and I almost regretted that I’d made an effort to extend an olive branch the week prior, even though it was the right thing to do. I was relieved that despite my efforts and the obvious advantages of the situation for him, he’d decided not to bother with it.
Then Tuesday, I saw that someone had started making an attempt to make the geek community a better place in Vancouver. And I thought that would be great. Until I saw that they’d tainted the well already. I’m sure they had the best of intentions, but inviting the rather defensive girlfriend of a man who abuses the word community for his own profit into the group meant to repair the community… I just can’t see that turning out in a positive manner. Given his actions regarding Zombiewalk and various other things, I’m uncomfortable dealing with him. I’ve burnt out on it. I talked to the guy who’d done the inviting for the group and the guy who’d started the group, let them know that for health reasons, I’m not interested in being involved. My experiences with that individual have been so toxic that probability of his involvement was enough to make me not want to be involved, to avoid that ugliness in my life.
I’m torn between ranting about him further or just trying to put the whole thing out of my mind. On one hand, if I rant, it has the potential for people to understand where I’m coming from, balanced against the potential for him to use my writing against my friends who still deal with him. On the whole, it’s probably healthier to just put it out of my head. Except this is my place, so I should be able to write what I want here. Eh, I’ll just leave it for now.
Afterwards, I was looking into some of the symptoms of PTSD, as someone in my extended social network had been interested in the job opening here, but had mentioned he had some doubts about taking the job while he was still sorting out his PTSD and his treatment. I noticed that the symptoms for PTSD match up with what I’ve been experiencing. It’s something I need to examine and it’s resulted in me doing some reflecting.
As far as I can recall, there aren’t really any specific events that would qualify as traumatic in my life. My childhood was pretty alienated and I have some issues with betrayal and belief, but there are specific major incidents, just a variety of times when things were rough.
I posted on my facebook that I was beginning to consider the idea that I was dealing with something that had similar symptoms to a mild form of PTSD, and that it was related to my dealings with the Zombiewalk and goth drama. I was vaguebooking, something I hate to do, but after the lecture I received last Saturday for going into too much detail, it seemed reasonable. In response, I got told off for comparing my bullshit to being in a war or being raped. Obviously my traumas weren’t severe enough for me to qualify for even a mild form of something similar to PTSD. My response was hostility and I opened a chat with the person, explaining to them that they really didn’t understand the whole story, and I was trying to work through something, not trying to whine. Apparently the hostility came across pretty strongly, as they got rather upset and wanted to end the conversation, since they felt I was bullying them.
Yes, I was bullying them for responding to a negative comment on my facebook page. Well, I guess that’s how the internet works.
Maybe it’s a case of my words being chosen poorly, or coming across hyperbolic. Maybe the symptoms only fit because of a psychological version of hypochondria. I do know that I have some things that are pretty nasty triggers for me, and that I need to sort them out. Not dealing with them is probably partially responsible for my current state of isolation.
I read something interesting about the Sexodus and male responses to feminism tonight, and I’d intended to comment on it, but I’m already over my 1K words and it’s nearly time to catch my bus so that’ll have to wait for another entry.
This is just a stream of thoughts and impressions that I’ll use to write up a review later for Erotic Vancouver.
Markus had advertised the event as being more pub like than club like, but I think I misunderstood what he meant by that. Its got similar lighting as the last time I was here. I was expecting a little brighter and a bit more mellow. Attempting to play board games here will be tricky. Certain games might work, but the random ones I brought with me probably require a brighter and quieter space to work. King of Tokyo, I could see working.
Some people sat down and picked up my copy of cards against humanity, that I had sitting at the table in front of me, without asking. I could care, but as that copy has been through hell, I’m not overly concerned. I’m wondering how long it’ll be before they think to ask, or they touch something else on the pile.
The pile currently consists of One Night Ultimate Werewolf, Arctic Scavengers and my neon wand. Funny that they picked the item I care least about.
A friend came up and started chatting. I mentioned the games, and the people didn’t seem to realise they were being rude. And now others have come over and asked about it and the male of the pair is explaining the game as if it was his own copy. I find this a mix of amusement and irritation. I’m pondering why someone would feel that touching another person’s toys is acceptable, even if the toys are board games. In the geek world, the general awareness of the value of a collection acts as a deterrent to most people touching without permission. It is possible that the lack of awareness of the value is a factor. It is likely that they have assumed that the games were provided by the venue. Not a terrible idea, but a bit of an assumption. It fits with the behaviour that was commented on previously with regards to patrons and the magic wands.
Offhand, I can’t think of how our hosts might deal with this assumption. I think such assumptions should be rare in a place focused on consent culture, as the default permission should be assumed to be the negative.
They haven’t managed to start a game of CaH, or clean up the game that they started. They’ve gotten engaged in some conversation with the couple that had approached them and used the game as an ice breaker. Its mildly amusing that it served that purpose. And mildly annoying that it was used in such a way without being respected.
Then again, I’m at a fetish event and I’m wearing jeans and a T-shirt. I don’t exactly fit in. Perhaps its made me invisible.
Except of course to those who know me, most of whom seem to be wearing volunteer badges tonight, at least so far.
The music works, its nice mellow jazz, but its a bit drowned out by all the people. I suspect its just the acoustics of the place. I wonder if some baffles would help create the impression of greater intimacy by shaping the conversations into tighter spaces.
I was expecting to be able to find some electrical sockets where I had found them last time, but unfortunately they don’t seem to be accessible this time. Removes option of the neon wand in the lounge area, something that was great fun at the Mad Hatter party.
—
Markus and VanJoe managed to find me an electrical cord, so now I have the neon wand going.
—
Spent about an hour demonstrating electricity via direct and indirect methods. People would randomly come up to me and ask to give it a try. It was nice to educate people.
Overall, the neon wand was a hit again.
At some point, they killed the music and brought out a comedian. The acoustics worked against him, and the crosschatter drowned out most of his act, if you weren’t over by where he was standing.
In theory, linking his mic to some of the other speakers could fix this problem, but I’m not sure that would help, as part of a comedian’s performance is visual. Alternatively, shaping the acoustics to isolate the areas better could create more of a feeling of different spaces.
At this point, I’d probably attend this event again, through I’m not sure I quite understand what the intended demographic is. The mix of kinksters, swingers, and explorers creates an interesting environment, but I feel it lacks something in terms of community consciousness, coherence and shared expectations. However, I’m sure things could be done to foster that.
Interesting. Someone stepped over me to talk to people, kicking my knee in the process. He apologised, but it was an afterthought. It seems to be an intoxication issue.
Am I so mellow that people lack concern for offending me? Or is the vibe such a peaceful one that the sort of hostility that such inconsiderate behaviour would evoke is inconceivable? Nah. Drunken fools are as they always are.
—
Nice to have a conversation about serious matters to remind me that I’m old and bitter and take matters far too seriously.
And then ten minutes later, run into another friend and have a random happy conversation that reminds me that the community contains plenty of people who have a passion who are looking for ways to express it. Be it Spaz and his music, or Nathan and his paintings. Or Mikhail and the things he does in the dark dark places.
And interesting mixture of individuals and their motives. Steps taken to foster understanding between the different cliques seem like the obvious direction. Given that Markus is already running a 420 munch, I think he has the right skill set for that challenge.
I’m in this coffee shop on the corner, a block away from the party I’m supposed to be at. I changed my shirt after work, but didn’t bother with anything else. I packed some gears, but gave no real thought to my appearance. In theory, one reason to attend this event is to be social. To meet people. To flirt. Yet I’m totally unprepared for that. Instead I’m sitting here having a dark chocolate mocha so I’ll stay awake. I’m sure there’s something I’ll learn from this on later reflection, but right now I’m just staring my own foolishness in the face.
But hey, at least I got out of the house. Though a wise man would have probably just stayed in front of the fire rather than driving icy roads.
—
Well, I just got a rather subtle reminder to trust my gut. My first instinct when I parked was to grab the exceeding conspicuous bag from the bag and take it to the coffee shop with me. But instead I back to the car, tried to find a closer parking spot, and ended up circling the block for no good reason. And parking in that exact same spot. Ah well, at least Modo counts as a universal resident permit.
As often happens in November, my body has become an production facility for disgusting slime. The process is resulting in a combination of lethargy and disassociation; a feeling of weary calm.
For many years I was a mouth breather, as my twice deviated septum and enlarged adenoids limited my nasal oxygen flow to less than 10% of my airflow. Eventually, I got over my paranoia over hospitals and had something done about it. As a result, I’m actively conscious of my breathing, in terms of quality of airflow.
Of course the thing that got me over the paranoia about hospitals was the stabbing pain in my lower back that happened one Sunday night when my gallbladder developed a bit of an issue. That attack was immediate and severe enough that I didn’t have the time to be paranoid about being knocked unconscious and sliced open.
My point? A painful and unexpected attack was the thing that allowed me to get over my inertia and paranoia. It allowed me to get to the point where I was able to make the change that needed to be made to make things better.
I’ve always claimed that there is no knowledge that is gained without a price being paid in pain, be it physical or emotional or spiritual or however you perceive it.
The take away from this? Perhaps it was a metaphor or an allusion. Of course it is also just my life experience.
Oh, right, and I’ve been having trouble falling asleep until after 4am, possibly because my sleep schedule got disrupted by the 3 days I spent mostly unconscious trying to recover from the nastiness in my respiratory system.
That was why I picked the title after all.
Neither the hero nor the monster, but both could fit, if the bits weren’t too broken to make sense of it. Didn’t work as it was, attempted modification, without much skill. Disassembled, reassembled, jumbled and bumbled. Best they get is barely better than a wreck. Not enough of any individual design to be recognised. Adapted and survived but not thrived.
I’ve been involved in the Vancouver kink community for my adult life, though you’d be hard pressed to find someone who’d actually seen me do anything particularly kinky at any of the events. With the exception of running electrical play demos at Noir, most of whatever kinks I might practice have been behind closed doors.
I have issues feeling like I don’t fit in, like I don’t belong, and my way of dealing with those feelings was to pitch it. I’d carry gear, I’d show up for set up or tear down, I’d drive people home, I’d help enforce the rules, etc. It was how I contributed and how I got over feeling like I didn’t belong. I’ve volunteered at various events, including MVK, Taboo, Sin City, and Noir.
I enjoyed the munches I’d attended, and so when Kink UBC stopped having their TNG/Under 35 munches, I started my own. I checked out a couple of restaurants, talked to the managers, found a time when they’d be happy to let us take up the tables for a few hours in exchange for extra business on a quiet night. I invited a few friends out and we made it a thing we did. It worked, and we kept it up for several years until I finally felt like I was too damn old to relate to the younger newbies and that someone else would do a better job. I’d been trying to get someone to take it over for a while at that point, but it just hadn’t worked out.
The reason I’m rambling on about this is that over the last decade, I’ve gotten involved in the back channels of the local kink scene. I’ve seen the work that goes into the various events, I’ve seen the cooperation and the fighting. For the most part, things have gotten better over the years. It’s also allowed me to see some of the uglier aspects of the community and hear some of the worse horror stories.
This knowledge, combined with the cynical sense of humor in the goth community is part of the reason I ended up with the nickname Gravedigger, since I was the guy who knew where all the bodies were buried.
I’m going to open up about a few of those, not in any specific detail, but in a general terms. Maybe specific enough that some people will be able to piece things together, but if they can manage that, they probably already knew enough of the details anyways.
I’m not doing this to air dirty laundry, or to paint targets on anyone; but so I can discuss some of the common circumstances, how they were handled, what might have been improved, and other thoughts that come up while writing them up.
One of the big difficulties when dealing with sexual assault, be it inside the kink community or in society in general, is that it gets hidden. The truth gets buried, for various reasons, including fear, shame, guilt, and denial.
Well, I know where some truth was buried, seems like it is time to dig it up.
December brings two Netrunner Tournaments. One at Starlit Citadel and the other over at Connections. In theory, this means I should work on my decks and get some practice in so I’ve got a decent shot. In practice, unless I manage to get some time on octgn, I doubt I’ll get any games in.
Still, I’m looking forward to them. I enjoy the game, even if I’m not great at springing traps to kill the runners. Or evading traps meant to kill me.
I have a tendency to not apply enough pressure, something I should work on improving.
Still, it’s always nice to hang out with Dimestore, even if his evil engineer brain makes things more complicated.
When I originally started this, I had an idea of who might read it, but no solid plans for how to reach any of them. I figured I’d focus on what I had to say first and worry about who I wanted to read it afterwards.
However, as the internet is a strange mixture of ephemeral and everlasting, of fluid and static, and of random interconnections, I have to consider who else will read it and what impact that might have on my life.
I know at least one of my coworkers knows of this place, as he helped me setting it up. Other coworkers know that I own the domain, but I don’t know that they’d go out of their way to read it. They might, they are a surprisingly great group. The other day for my birthday, they got me a cake and a card. As I’ve only been working there a short time, I was surprised that they’d go to the trouble. And I was touched that they had. I’d been a bit grumpy with a couple of them a few days before because of various customer related issues. It helped remind me of the importance of being part of a team, something that was lacking at my last few jobs.
I posted to my Facebook that I was working on my blog and a few friends asked for the link. And then my mother asked for the link, I warned her that there will likely be things on here that she doesn’t need to know, but she decided she wanted it anyways. So far, I haven’t shared it with my grandmother, but I don’t doubt she’ll find it before long, she’s a sharp cookie.
So, aside from friends and family, current coworkers and various others I currently know, there will also be people I don’t yet know. People who only learn about me through the words I’ve written here. In most cases, I suspect the words I write will create a much better first impression than bumping into me on the street or in a bar.
Then again, I have to ask myself if it matters what impression I make. What matters most is that my words are taken seriously, not that people like the person writing them.
The most common questions that people ask when they see this site is Murder Hobo Club? Really? What the Hell? Are you advocating getting together to murder the homeless? Or are you homeless murders who share tips? Are you insane? What the hell are you thinking?
Well, the phrase murder hobo is something that has some resonance for me. For reasons I can’t understand, it’s something that has come to mind randomly over the last few years. I think I originally heard it on the Order of the Stick forums, or the Pathfinder forums. It referred to a style of gaming that I think has become all too common. The characters, the heroes of the narrative, rather than having a noble goal, end up wandering around, with no ties to a society, randomly murdering monsters, some of which have been proven to be intelligent. And for the most part, rather than questioning the implications of such actions, gaming culture has glorified them.
I recall one public roleplaying game that I was playing in, during which the majority of the damage done to the party was the result of my chemist character throwing around magical molotov cocktails. He was being effective, the enemies rarely had a chance to harm any of the party members. From one point of view, this was a well built character. He efficiently removed the opposition to the party.
From another point of view, he was something of a monster. Even if he was doing the right thing, for the right reasons, he going about it the wrong way. He had completely disregarded the advice of Nietzsche. He had quite clearly become a monster, while fighting monsters.
At that point, he and the party of adventurers, they weren’t heroes, they were wandering murder hobos. Around then, I realized that something just wasn’t quite right and I took a break from playing that character.
Later, I was running a public game and I realized that I hadn’t been alone in my descent from hero to monster, it was something more common to the gamer experience. While most systems have rules that make it less likely that you’ll do splash damage to innocent civilians, many systems have impressive destructive powers that would have at the very least a psychological impact on the civilians who observe your actions. Rather than praising these “adventurers”, writing songs about them, looking up to them, and all the things that these grateful villagers supposedly do, it seems more likely that they’d either be hiding from the party, or getting out the pitchforks and trying to chase them out of town.
The shift towards anti-heroes in fantasy media and geek culture isn’t something new, but I think in many cases the consequences of this shift are neglected or ignored.
When I’m playing Shadowrun, I know I’m taking on the role of someone who lives outside the system, as the game is about being a deniable asset. While it is possible to create a party who are all on the right side of the law, this is not the expectation or the norm. It’s understood that you’ll be breaking the law, and getting well paid for it. It is a game that focuses on the many shades of grey.
Fantasy Roleplaying games, and by that I mean games in the style of Dungeons & Dragons or Pathfinder, tend to assume that the party are heroes. The core assumption is that you are the good guys, trying to save the world from the forces of darkness.
Both D&D and Pf have the 2 Axis of Alignment, Order vs Chaos and Good vs Evil. There are plenty of memes and postings out there talking about how alignments gets abused, and for the most part, it gets treated like a joke. After all, these are games, we are playing them for fun; we’re rolling dice to enjoy a story with friends, to relax. To get a chance to escape from the stress and mundane aspects of our ordinary lives. So, why take them seriously?
Well, at some point, we realized that the idea of role playing had some merit as a tool in psychotherapy. We realized that being able to play out various scenarios helped us to engage with ideas on a less cerebral way than merely thinking about them. So, if role playing is valid as a psychological tool, then shouldn’t we consider the psychological aspects of our roleplaying?
Tonight, Noir happens. Friends of mine will be there. I could go and join them. In previous years, I’d have planned to celebrate the fact that I’ve survived yet another trip around the sun. I’m going to be a designated driver tonight, so that won’t be an option. Even without that it’s been a while since I’ve had more than a drink with a meal.
Alcohol as a social lubricant bothers me these days. The idea of buying someone a drink seems distasteful, but not in a way I can explain clearly. Perhaps it is the fact that the effects of alcohol tends to lead to stupidity and I prefer intelligence.
I’ll probably have an alright time if I go, so I might as well go. I just have this feeling a few years ago I’d have been more enthusiastic and that I’ve lost something along the way.
Today: a Netrunner tournament at a local gaming shop with my friend Dimestore; (At least that’s his nom de net).
It’ll be first constructed tournament, and my second Netrunner tournament overall.
My corp deck, I’m pretty comfortable with, I’ve played it a few times and I know what it needs. Then again, I swapped out a handful of cards last night and I’m not sure how much impact that’ll have.
My runner deck, not so much. Its been evolving over the last little while, but I’ve not played it enough. It’s been virtually scrapped twice in the last 24 hours. I started with a something that straddled two different ideas, but its now much tighter and focused mostly on a single concept now.
Odds are good I’ll write up a summary after the tournament, with some thoughts on what worked and what didn’t. There’s two more tournaments coming up next month and I’ll be able to play in both of them.
Right now, I’m riding the bus and I’m typing up this post as a way to clear my mind and warm up my brain. To me, it feels like the writing style is different than my usual style, but I’m not sure how much that’ll come across. I feel like I’m being more deliberate and less casual about my word choice.
On some level, that’ll be because I’m typing on the phone, and I have to concentrate more on the typing than I do when I’m at a keyboard.
I’ll get there shortly, I’ll get registered, then have a coffee while I wait for things to get started. Or maybe a hot chocolate, since I don’t need the caffeine jitters.
—
An hour later, registration is done, maintenance has been taken care of and people are socialising before the tournament.
Given the number of people attending, its unlikely I’ll be taking home one of the prizes today. This one has prizes for the top 8, so my odds weren’t terrible if only a dozen people showed up, but I think we are at twice that number.
I had my coffee at the Starbucks after I arrived. The app told me it was free because of my upcoming birthday; a pleasant surprise.
I’m not sure a peppermint mocha was the best choice. It was tasty, but I’m feeling a little bit twitchy. Hard to tell if its the caffeine or the nerves.
Still, I’m not here for victory, as much as I might covet getting a cool play mat, I’m here to have a fun social Saturday.
Afterwards I’ve got to run some errands and then I’ve committed to heading down to Noir. In theory I should take my violet wand with me, and do some electrical play demos.
And now, it begins.
—
The first match up is over. My runner deck lost, a combination of card draw issues and memory issues. My corp deck won due to the timer rule. It was close though. Initially my adjustments and his choice of runner threw me off, as the math was slightly different than I was expecting.
Time for a bite to eat, then the next round.
Dimestore lost one and tied one, the tie being one he had the advantage on, but the time wasn’t on his side. He tends to play rather slowly, so this isn’t unexpected. His matchup had the amusing coincidence of a set of neutralisation elements for the other players ability.
—
Next round was Dimestore and I, which was a brutal matchup. We’d played each other a few times, so it was a semi predictable battle. Our first battle took forever, but I managed to just barely win. Our second match was high speed, as we had less than 20 minutes to play the entire game. My opening hand was amazing, his was a stalled hand. He had a deadly deck, but I managed to stay alive.
—
My third match up is against Nels of Terminal Seven.
—
That was a hell of a pair of games. I’ll need to actually write them up in detail for the Netrunner geeks, but suffice it to say that it was bizarre. The first game was one of the longest I’ve played in a while. We finished with less than 10 minutes left. And then started the second game, which ended with a 4-3 time over victory.
It was some of most fun I’ve had in a while.
—
Fourth game, I’m feeling burnt out. I suspect a sugar crash. I should have planned better in terms of caffeine and snacks.
I lost both games, my worst pair of matches of the day.
—
Fifth round, I got a bye. I’m not sure what that means in terms of my overall ranking, but I don’t think it’s a good sign. Still, it’s been an interesting day. I’ve still got to run those errands before heading down to Noir, but I’m quickly running out of time.
—
So, got the final rankings, and I came in 15th out of 20 players. Dimestore came in 19th. He was happy not to be dead last.
A blank page is an intimidating thing, more so when it’s the first page of something greater. A single page can easily be crumbled up and thrown away, but a page that is part of a book leaves evidence of its passing when removed.
They say the first step is to write something, write anything. If you’re happy with it, great. Most of the time, you aren’t, and but if you focus on getting to be happy with it, you’ll never get into that place where the words flow effortlessly from your fingers as fast as they come to you mind. Or at least to the place where you can manage to put something down and you don’t erase it moments after.
For me, this has always been a problem initially. I’ve had trouble getting started, getting comfortable with the tone. So, the initial post that will be going up won’t be much more than rambling as I try to warm up a set of skills that I’ve let lie fallow for the last little while.
Prior to this, most of the writing I had been doing was for Erotic Vancouver, trying to contribute to the local alternative community. I’ve written a couple of pieces, and I’ve enjoyed working with them. Hopefully in the future I’ll write more pieces, but while writing for them I am always aware that what I say needs to be acceptable to their brand. This hasn’t been much of an issue in practice, but the idea of that has always added to my anxiety about my writing. It’s that vague gnawing in the back of your mind, that what you’ve written isn’t good enough yet. That it doesn’t convey what you meant it to say, that it’ll be misread and it’ll offend people. That concern is more present when you’re writing about something that has an inherent probability of offending. Many of the articles I’ve wanted to write have been fraught with that feeling.
So, instead of feeling like I’ll damage the reputation of Erotic Vancouver and its spearhead, Reive, I’ve now got this place to write what I think. If I write something I think works for EV, I’ll leave a copy on his virtual desk, and if it doesn’t work there, it’ll go here. And if something I write here works for EV, maybe he’ll ask me to put up an expanded version over there.
I’ve posted some of my ramblings in other places, but this is the first time I’ve made a serious effort to have a place for my ideas, distinct and unique. And I think that’s something that deserves some exploration and perhaps an explanation, though how much can actually be explained, I’m not so sure of.
Over on Erotic Vancouver, I’m known as Ashton, because that’s my name, and I felt that in a Erotic/BDSM/Kink context, Gravedigger might put people off. I wanted people to take my writings seriously, and while there is potentially some risk to my future in having those writings out there under that name, I felt it made more sense than a pseudonym.
Speaking of the pseudonym Gravedigger, it’s one that was given to me about a decade back, and part of a story that I will likely tell here one day when I lack inspiration about something to write up and also feel like I haven’t updated in a bit.
When we lived in smaller social structures, it was easy to be able to perceive who was contributing what to a community. In theory, we would know if someone wasn’t able to pull their own weight and why; since everyone would know if we weren’t pulling our own weight, it would be harder to shirk our duties. As societies expanded, we had more people to keep track of, and instead of tracking individuals, we began tracking groups and cliques within the society. Strategies develop for dealing with this issue, including internal grape vines. Just as societies develop specific individuals tasked with other tasks that would have previously been the shared responsibility of the tribe, a new role develops inside the system, and thus Journalism is born. Initially, the job is simple, to collect and redistribute knowledge so that the society has a better understanding of the things that individuals may understand need fixing, but often have yet to be addressed. The more awareness brought to a problem, the more likely a solution will be developed. As society gets more complicated, and traditional social codes are replaced with laws, these problems potentially have a greater depth and breadth of complexity. The position of journalist becomes one requiring greater skills and one that has greater value to the society. This greater value results in the office being hijacked and converted into pieces of the propaganda engine. Over time, various individuals adjust what it means to be a journalist; how we perceive this embodiment of social conscience. On a grander scale, this social conscience has become less about giving us the truth and more about giving us something to digest, shifting from the role of truth teller to the role of entertainer. There are some individuals who have managed to develop the telling of truthful story into an art, that that is something I greatly respect.
I hate to be the one to tell you this, but this whole ritual sacrifice thing going on here, while very nice, just isn’t going to work out the way you’ve planned it. Allow me a moment to explain.
The great old ones, they’re kinda like food critics. If you can manage something pleasing to their palate, they’ll provide you with plenty in return. But, they’re really picky and easily bored.
You try to serve them the same old sacrifice they’ve had before, odds are they won’t hate it, but they won’t like it either. You’ll get a middling review, they’ll spare your life, blah blah blah.
That’s why most of these rituals don’t work. They might have worked, once, back in the day, when they were new, and that’s how the recipe got written down in the first place, but following the same recipe isn’t going to cut it.
Of course random improvisation isn’t always such a great idea either. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumours of rituals gone horribly wrong, and mess that results. That’s them being displeased. There usually aren’t many details, but the pattern is there, if you look for it.
There are occasionally those that get it right and gain whatever it was that they wanted badly enough to perform the damn ritual in the first place, but those are few and far between.
Just between you and I, I think it’s more a case of a lucky accident than anything else. But you’re the high priest, you’ve got the fancy altar and the pointy knife, I’m sure you know best.
As her spearhead caught on one of my ribs, I looked her in the eye. She sneered, as I growled out the question… “Why?” She drove the blade back in, bringing her lips to my ear, whispering “You never should have firebombed Atlantis.”
There was a sound that I can only describe as not being completely unlike the sound of a tinfoil phone book being ripped in half and a flash of a color that reminded me of a lime green tuxedo I’d worn to a costume party once. As my vision returned, I realized my couch was now on fire.
fallen bodies lie in the bay
limbs shorn off
they float
some free, some in chains
enough that you can nearly walk across the bay
I remember
even in death
they are deadly
Shifting, rolling, moving
Crushing.