[This is what I do when I see a cow out the car window. Just replace ‘blog’ with ‘cow’ and it’s the same dialogue. It is incredibly endearing, and never annoys anyone else in the car.]
I know you can HEAR ME COW.
So, yeah — let’s shake some cobwebs off. My production of Pippin is finished, so now I can reroute those system resources back to all of the other plates I have spinning in the ether. Let’s list them! YAY, LISTS.
1. Spell/Sword Zeta Draft. This would be an amazing name for an anime. This is the big project, my main focus. Incorporating all the feedback from my Beta Readers, and working my way to the penultimate draft. I’m planning to add about 5000 words to the draft, so I’ll need to get one last set of eyes on the manuscript before I move forward to Self Publishing Ragnarok.
2. Self Publishing Ragnarok. Also an amazing anime title. My goal is to get the book into a buy-able format, through CreateSpace and Kindle Direct Publishing through Amazon. I’m researching all of the technical knowledge needed for doing that, so when I am ready to move forward it won’t be a giant learning curve clusterfuck.
IS THE JPEG OF YOUR COVER ART BELOW THE MAXIMUM PIXEL LIMIT???
3. Cover Art. I’ve seen some early sketches from Mike/Poopbird, and I can’t wait to see the finished product. Got to make sure I have all the specs for pixel limits, image size, etc. to make it easy and painless for him once the design is complete.
4. Titan’s Wake. My occasional Pathfinder campaign. Time to kick it in the shins and get the PC’s moving toward something approaching the plot. Scheduling has been an issue, leading to some signal loss — gotta get the players on some sort of regular game night schedule, or the campaign is just going to fizzle.
5. The Ocean of Not. New and shiny Legend of the Five Rings campaign! Meeting with the players in early January to make characters, and hopefully kick off the game shortly thereafter. I’m planning on having a forum component for this one, and most of the players are Lodestar alumni —very excited to get back in the trenches.
6. Shadeaux Bros. Christmas Album. Got to jump on this one with both feet, as it does have a built in deadline. Unfamiliar with our previous work? Take a listen and be forever changed.
7. A Few Good Men. I have a small part in the next Mainstage production at the theatre. I get to play an actual person, which is not my strong suit.
Broad physical comedy is what I do.
8. Regular Blogging. I need to get back on a regular update schedule, 3-5 times per week. Maybe I’ll bring back Story on Demand to prime the pump, but I’m hoping now that working on the book is moving back to my main creative focus, I’ll have more time and writerly thoughts to expound upon.
Lot of stuff. Lot of cows. I love the feeling of energy and mind-space coming online – really looking forward to all of these projects!
We work so hard to build this little world. A better world, a world of lights and shadows. The world we all want to live in. Our Twilight Kingdom.
And it is fleeting. From its birth, it begins to decay. To fall through the sand-glass. We pour energy into it, it shines. We dance, we sing, we appear. We wear the clothes of our better selves, or the masks of our hidden villains.
But then it ends. Fade, extinguish,explode. One way or another. We leave the Kingdom with nothing.
So be it.
Come and burn with me.
Come and fly.
But only for a little while.
Hmmm…I was planning on continuing the ‘Three Falcons’ bit I was working on — but I honestly kind of like how it hangs right now.
This piece is background/world information for my new tabletop campaign and I think it serves the purpose well enough. Introducing some flavor of the world, a tragedy and a bit of a mystery. Too much more and I’ll start giving things away to my players — and we don’t want that do we?
I, of course, was not present at the Battle of Jato Valley. The Fox Clan was not involved in this skirmish between the Great Clans, and our presence would have been looked at with great anger and disdain by Matsu Tsuko, the Lion Clan general. She would have viewed the inclusion of a small clan of no particular renown in her day of glory as an affront. And her rage at our clan being the witness to her ensuing shame would have been great indeed.
And, of course, I was only seven years old.
Jato Valley is a geographic location of little significance other than this battle. It lies between the Lion and Crane lands, in a small bit of land flanked by a granite mountain range to the north and a small river to the south. It is the homeland of the Falcon, a small Clan similar to our own in size and influence. How could they have angered the Fortunes so? To bring such calamity into their quiet corner of the Empire? I have visited their crumbling keep many times in my studies, and the only stories that Toritaka Yaki tells with any vigor are of the Battle of Jato Valley. As if that one day of blood and sorrow has forever dimmed the past, obscuring the older tales of his clan’s former glory.
I, of course, agree with him – but I would never dishonor the elder’s clan by voicing such thoughts out loud.
For the Battle of Jato Valley did much to obscure the light of many great samurai, and as my studies dare to suggest – continue to darken the honor of many of the Great Clans.
My apologies, honored reader. I write these words as if all were clear to you. We always write as if our time in this world is the only time, and that the things we deem of import shall remain so on down the ever spinning gyre of the wheel. As a young student I was often keenly aggravated by the ancient scholars prattling on for turns and turns of the scroll, before finally making it clear the thrust of their tale. So, I shall speak as if I am long dust, and you know nothing. For, if I may politely remark, when I was a student I knew a great deal of nothing myself.
Please accept my profound apologies. I am certain you are a credit to your clan, and your ancestors.
The Battle of Jato Valley is a riddle. A circumstance that still troubles the students of bushido, the priests of the kami, and lowly scholars such as myself. It concerns the most grave breach of the Celestial Order – a betrayal beyond the ken of the Sun and Moon.
The Emperor had three sons. And then he had three enemies. Blood against blood, the most shocking sacrilege. They fled the Voice of Heaven and took refuge with their allies in the one place they knew would receive them. The hall of Toritaka Yaki, their archery instructor as children — and a defensible position. None of the Great Houses would have dared to shelter them — but the Falcon spread its wings and brought them into the nest.
Hantei Pono. Otomo Tekiko. Otomo Yoru. 17,15 and 10. The heir to the throne and his two younger brothers – the greatest criminals the Empire has ever known.
I take quite a risk writing their names, here in fresh ink. The Emperor has made it a crime to ever refer to them from now until the End of Time. If I were a wiser scholar I would blot them, but I have an unfortunate flaw in my character. I pray that my honored reader will do their best to ignore my indiscretion.
When the Hantei himself stood over their broken bodies, he is said to have called for fire. He took the brand in his own hand, and poured the pitch over them — taking great care, of course, to never touch them. The flames burned for hours, leaving only their bones. The Emperor had their remains put into three jars and had them painted with the mon of the Falcon.
Matsu Tsuko carried the jars herself, and laid them at the feet of the Falcon daimyo and spat in his face.
“The Emperor commands you to keep these urns with you always.” She is recorded as saying. ” These Falcon traitors, these three sons of Toritaka shall forever be a reminder of the dishonor you have brought to your Clan.”
The Lion general then turned and stalked out of the hall, speaking no words of her own dishonor that day.
For the overwhelming force she had brought to bear against the pitiful rabble that had dishonored themselves so greatly to serve the Three Falcons had paid dearly for her arrogance. The Battle of Jato Valley is one of the few defeats that the Matsu had ever experienced, and with such high stakes – the very honor of the Emperor himself, ah. She had thought to fight an easy skirmish, outnumbered her enemy five to one.
The Matsu’s army won the day — but only at the price of half her army. The Three Falcons and their allies, ronin all, fought like gods of death.
They showed the truth in their souls. And for such dishonored men to show such strength, is perhaps the most disturbing portion of this tale for many of my respected colleagues.
Honor is the samurai’s might. How could these vilest of traitors have faced down so many of the Empire’s best?
If you’ve been wondering why the blog has been so quiet — here’s your answer. I’ve been directing a production of this musical at our Friendly Neighborhood Theater, the Town & Gown Players.
Here’s the part — were I a normal human being — where I would gush about the show. Partly from genuine excitement and pride; partly in a cynical, manipulative attempt to convince you to come see the show.
But as this blog provides ample evidence, I am not a normal human being. I have a complicated relationship with positivity. Most evident in creative projects where I am invested. I have a, shall we say, extreme reluctance to speak without restraint, to truly commit to the excitement. How about a list of your neuroses related to this, I hear you all shouting with animation and curiosity at your computer screens. Okay!
1. Pure superstition. If I say that the show is good, amazing, colossal, etc. etc. I’m calling down the attention of the gods. I live in Athens and hubris-smiting is most definitely on the menu. A musical is a super-complicated, involved creative endeavor with thousands of moving parts. Everything has to gel – the music, the movement, the acting, the vocals. Layered on top of that is the spiritual mumbo-jumbo of any community – you want every person’s chi to align just so. I do not need Hermes to start
This doesn’t happen in the show. Only in my heart.
feeling capricious or mercurial[HAR HAR HAR] and throw a wrench up in my show, just for giggle-shits.
2. Cynical Directing Style. I’m not quite sure where I picked this up — but I truly believe that if I tell an actor that what they are doing is good, they will immediately get worse. As an actor myself, fear is the best motivator. If you believe that you are doing a good job, you will stop working to get better – you will relax, get comfortable. It’s a short trip to Craptown. Every rehearsal, every performance you should be striving to exceed your previous attempt. Add to that the weird parental aspect of being a director — actor-children work much harder when they are unsure of Daddy’s approval. It’s cynical, but it works. Most of us performers have some sort of approval-need or bone-deep insecurity, as a director you might as well plug in to that and use it to get them to do sharper pirouettes. I’ve actually made a point to get better about this one, giving GRUDGING positive notes. Baby steps!
3. First Impressions. The beginning of a play is a holy moment. The moment when the lights go down — it’s pure, unbridled potential. Anything could happen — a whole new world is being born right in front of you. I treasure that moment, and I hate to pollute it. Especially with generic ‘Rah-Rah Show’s SO AWESOME’ posturing. So, if I started rambling on about how great the show is, or how much I like X scene, or Y song — then I’ve put things in your head. Expectations, judgement, etc. The less said the better. Come to the temple with your eyes unclouded.
So, what can I say about the show – through the net of my psychosis?
The set looks amazing. My designers really outdid themselves – I can comfortably say that it is unlike anything we’ve put on that stage in the past 10 years, easy.
The light design is also excellent. My bacon was Epic Level saved by the last minute addition of our Light Designer.
The choreography is excellent, thanks to my crack Choreography Squadron.
The band is crisp, and the musical director’s re-scoring of several key moments is inspired.
Pictured: The Cast of Pippin
The cast? Solid. I know that sounds like faint praise — but I’ll double-down. This cast is Solid Snake.
I won’t say anything more, due to neuroses listed above. But when the curtain opens Friday night, that’s where you want to be. I want you to see what the cast has accomplished, has earned through months of hard work. I believe you are going to see something exceptional.
If you are anywhere within a 50 mile radius of Athens, GA – you should make a point of attending.
Click on the image up top to buy tickets. You can pick your seat and everything, through the magic of the internet.
Okay, let me explain. If you get the reference, just go with me on this.
I enjoyed the newest installment in the hoary James Bond franchise quite a lot. Skyfall is a moody, textured look at the character and icon of 007 — personally I found it a perfect addition to Daniel Craig’s tenure as the character. I’ve heard varying reports about whether or not this will be his last film as “dude’s old”. But if this is his final performance as Bond, this is a perfect way to go out. Exploring the last part of the hero’s career, and a true brush with mortality and frailty.
But I there’s one thing that is revealed, that concerns me.
Spoilers henceforth.
One of my favorite sections of the movie is the final act. Bond retreats to the moors of Scotland, and we get a glimpse of his childhood — something never shown previously in any other film. [Not even the wacky-ass original Casino Royale.] There was something primal about him returning to his ancestral manse, on his noble steed [the Aston Martin!]. Some serious low-tech battle prep — followed by the usual helicopter explosions, high kill count, brutal kicks to the face and a knife fight [of sorts] — all the action required for the end of a Bond film.
It wasn’t until the second time that I watched the movie, that I noticed something.
Right there, on the top of the gate leading to Bond’s family home.
A stag.
This can only mean one thing.
James Bond is a Baratheon.
I…I…don’t know how I feel about this.
This changes everything.
For the uninitiated, House Baratheon is from George R.R. Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire, currently more popularly known through the HBO series, Game of Thrones.
I don’t know how I feel, because the Baratheons are all, well… kind of dicks. [Or all kinds of dicks? How does that phrase work?]
Not the most august of families — even acknowledging the political power they hold throughout the narrative. Does super-cool, badass James Bond really belong in this family?
Well….maybe, maybe not. But I do think their House words fit him to a tee.
Okay.
Maybe I can get on board with this.
But if in the next Die Hard movie, it turns out that John McClaine is a Stark, Targaryen or Green-Apple Fossoway, I’m done.
The Lodestar Crew, in their finest. ARTIST/W.Steven Carroll
Lodestar is an odd beast. Telling a story live for two years across thousands of words online, and scores of tabletop games it’s easy to get lost in the thickets. At least I know I often did, and at least nominally I was in charge of the story. Killervp asked for some Lodestar related blather, so I’m obliging. These are 5 things that the players either never knew, didn’t notice, or never encountered. Some of these are missed plotlines, or NPC backstories — or just things that I thought about a lot in the shower, but never actually mentioned in-game. Now that I had some time and distance from the story, here are a few things way back in the freezer of Lodestar.
1. The Precursor Homeworld
Oh, man. This was going to be amazing. Admittedly, this was part of the ‘Machine Unleashed’ end of Act 3. [More on that later in the list.] After a few failed attempts to defeat the Machine, the crew of the Lodestar was going to discover a hidden cache of Precursor knowledge [through clues in the sadly neglected Arkanic Computer, Carbunkle.] and discover Teon’s notes reconstructing the route back to the homeworld, along with the Song of Change that would have finally unlocked the Lodestar’s sleeping heart/psyche. [LEVEL FIVE!!!] The whole ship was going to gain an Interstellar Travel Mode in epic Flight of the Navigator fashion and the crew would have gone on last ditch quest across the stars.
There they would have encountered the Dark, the nebulous force of ultimate evil that forced the Arkanics to flee to Aufero. I don’t know what it is, but it scares the shit out of me — so, definitely nasty. Making their way through a shattered planet, finding lost technology and twisted Precursor-spawn — fleeing from the ultimate negation, the destroyer of all. They would have no chance of defeating it, but would have found something that allowed them to defeat the Machine. A glimpse into the larger cosmic battle beyond their own world — and foreshadowing for the next tale in Aufero.
2. Shadar Logoth
Ah. My unabashed crib from the Wheel of Time series. In Jordan’s first book, it’s a lost city filled to the brim with an ancient evil. In middle school, it really fascinated me, so I wanted to have it in my game world.
Immediately after the crew saved Talitha from the Shadow Knight in Brom, they had to deal with the temporarily-riderless and wounded Giant Roc, Bird. The druid managed to tend the creature’s wounds through and pulled a sizable stone chunk out of one of the bird’s wounds. A quick inspection revealed that it was overloaded with negative energy, a clue that the party could investigate to lead them to Shadar Logoth. They would have found an open conduit into the Umbral Plane, and the remnants of Izus’ battle with a large manifestation of shadow creatures. The players didn’t really miss much, but it was an opportunity to learn a lot more about the Plane of Shadow much earlier in the campaign.
And, of course there would have been a dagger with a ruby in the pommel.
3. Enton Blake, Scion of the Neclord
Oh, this still burns my players — because they know they missed this one. So, not totally a secret, but I like to rub things in.
Early in the campaign, I ran a ‘murder mystery’ adventure styled around Murder on the Orient Express. The main point of it was to introduce a new antagonistic group, the Seafoam Trading Company. The somewhat-evil multi-national conglomerate that controlled most airship and naval commerce in Aufero. There were about eight red herring suspects, and unfortunately I made the clue to who was the real killer too hard to notice. So, they had their ‘drawing room scene’ and accused one of the Vice Presidents of Seafoam with the crime under the evidence that he was an evil dick. He was evil, and they had a good fight — but he wasn’t the killer.
The real killer was that guy’s nebbish secretary, Enton Blake. I wrote a ‘confession‘ of sorts here on the blog several months later. And he was a vampire.
If they had uncovered the true killer, it would have served two purposes.
It was a neat link to the old campaign that spawned this game world. The Neclord was a master vampire who nearly toppled an entire country with his schemes. The old heroes had quite a time dealing with him, so I liked the nod to the old campaign.
Enton was the only Scion remaining — the only Child of Zed to survive the purge by the Forces of Light. His mission in life was to keep his existence a secret, as he slowly prepared over many, many decades the return of the vampires. Not quite sure whether he was going to resurrect the Neclord, or BECOME THE NECLORD HIMSELF. MWAHAHA.
Hey, you know what? It can still happen! Thanks, heroes!
4. Nyver Moonbeam and Jan Wise.
Sometimes you have a really cool backstory for an NPC or villain.
Sometimes you are just about to open your mouth, and lay down some narrative jazz and blow the players’ minds.
Sometimes the players kill that NPC or villain. Right. Before. The. Reveal.
Early in their career, the Lodestar crew did some work for a local crime lord in the city of Flenelle, a Dark Elf known as Nyver Moonbeam. They uncovered the edges of some sort of nefarious plot he was hatching, and decided they needed to take him down. They enlisted the aid of an alcoholic ranger named Martin Wise, who had a serious grudge against the crime lord.
When the party went to face Nyver, it was in the wreck of an abandoned galley that had been turned into a saloon. He had a female bard chained to the wall, forcing her to sing for him in between intermittent bouts of torture. The barbarian freed her, but they wouldn’t learn much about her until later.
As mentioned, the party made quick work of the nefarious Dark Elf. The only little nugget of the backstory I managed was his dying words to the ranger.
“You know I really loved her.” Nyver sighed.
“It don’t mean a damn.” Martin Wise replied. “And you know that too.”
“Yeah.”
So, yeah. Here’s the big backstory. Martin’s daughter, Jan fell in with Nyver early in his career. She was his lieutenant, and eventually his lover. The wrinkle was that the dark elf had a predeliction for causing pain, an inescapable compulsion. Jan allowed herself to receive the brunt of his abuse in an attempt to help him work through the condition. I don’t think she enjoyed it, but she was a willing participant.
Enter her father, the renowned ranger and adventurer, Martin Wise. He rolls into town and finds
By Rui Tenreiro.
bruises and scars on his little girl, and immediately commences to tracking down her villainous boyfriend. An epic duel erupts, Jan gets caught in the middle, she dies.
Ironically, much of Nyver’s sado-masochistic leaning is broken in this event. He still feels the compulsion, but then he will see Jan’s face on his victims and stop. His bard prisoner had some clues to the effect.
Martin started drinking, and didn’t stop. He even sunk to the level of taking odd jobs from Nyver’s growing criminal syndicate to make ends meet. He had some ale-soaked thoughts about working his way close enough to the dark elf to get revenge, but they didn’t amount to much.
5. The World of the Machine
The other way the last half of the campaign could have gone. The entire first arc of the game involves the discovery of the Shadow Plane — and some sort of being trapped within that is frantically trying to break into our world. Through travel and investigation the Lodestar crew learn that the trapped entity is a giant machine, built by the Precursors to destroy the evil that filled their homeworld. In typical Frankenstein fashion, they made it a wee bit too powerful. A large portion of the race’s population sacrificed themselves to create the Shadow Plane and imprison the machine.
The big moment at the end of Act 3 hinged on two options. Will the heroes stop the Machine from breaking free, or will it run amuck across the globe?
To my chagrin, the heroes succeeded.
But, oh. The Machine. It was going to be so freaking sweet. Just stomping its way across the world, crushing cities to dust. The party was going to need to ally themselves with Seafoam [and maybe the devils and Izus] to even have a chance to survive long enough to get to the next leg of the adventure.
I just loved the idea of spending over a year building all these communities, cities and countries — then pulverizing them. Admittedly, the 13 Day War that came later did just as good, but it was going to be a giant robot!
I’ve been noodling over a couple of different blog topics, whilst digesting the mammoth pile of turkey and dressing that I’ve recently consumed. Which sounds the most interesting to you, oh wanderer of the Internet?
1. Why I kind of like that show Elementary, despite it being an empirically flawed premise for a show. [Sherlock Holmes in America?!? Blasphemery!]
2. I recently completed a re-read of the first book of the Wheel of Time series Eye of the World. This was a series I loved as a younger reader, but lost interest in as the years and volumes piled up. I’m re-reading the first book to help me decide whether it’s worth plowing back through now that the very last book is being released. There would be lots of navel-gazing, musing and a de facto review of the book. Who doesn’t love an article on story structure?
3. That show I’m directing at Town & Gown, Pippin.
4. My nebulous new tabletop campaign, Ocean of Not [placeholder name.]
5. Lodestar.
6. Spell/Sword …you know, my book or whatever.
7. Potpourri. [You tell me what you’d like me to blather on about.]
Any of this sound remotely interesting or palatable?
[I know it’s been quiet here for the past few weeks. I’m hip-deep in a production of Pippin that I’m directing, plus holiday work volume, plus BLAH BLAH BLAH WRITE US A STORY ABOUT A GRYPHON. I should have some quiet time over Thanksgiving, I’ll try to be a better blog-content producer over the next few days. In the meantime, here’s my Director’s Note for the program of the show.]
The Players
This show is strange.
It’s one of my favorites, and every time I watch it I find another odd little quirk, or strange sequence of lines, or incongruous thematic element. This is the second time I’ve directed this show — and once again I’m left with a vague feeling of unease. Do I really know what this show is about? So many pieces that don’t fit, arcane and vivid.
I think this show is about magic.
The magic of youth. The magic of theatre.
The magic of choice. The magic of love.
And — bereft of descriptor — magic itself.
Who am I to parse the strange symbols and gestures of this incantation? Magic cannot be understood, that is its base element. A resistance to definition, to codification, and to the jaded understanding of maturity. Only the eyes of a child can glimpse the Leading Player’s riddle.
So, take your ease Ladies and Gentlemen. Become children with us tonight, and let us tell you a tale. The spell begins again.
seventypercentethanol: dreams of the shore near another world (.)
And then Nothing thought.
It’s first sin.
It wanted to be more than it was. It wanted to know. It wanted to have.
Emptiness filled.
The water grew dark. Regret, fear, desire. Seeds of our world.
All from Nothing. Thinking.
The Others were born, the Elder Gods. Then the Sun and Moon. Then their children, the brawling ones. Hantei and the rest. They shaped and formed our world, this Emerald Empire, this Rokugan.
The bones of our world, the secret in every drop of blood. The sin of Nothing. The filling of the empty, the darkening of the water.
Is this the secret to Shinsei’s path? To return to the serenity of the absolute, to be empty water once more?
Is it even possible? To live without regret. Or fear. Or desire?
A curious riddle.
This bears careful thought.
I hope my readers will forgive my small joke.
– Musings – Kitsune Miho
[With apologies to John Wick and Alderac Entertainment. I’m starting to do prep work for what could be my next long-running tabletop campaign. Returning to the hallowed system of yore, 1st Edition Legend of the Five Rings. I’m rereading a lot of the setting information for the first time in over a decade. Such a strange mashup of Eastern and Western mythology, neatly combining the Amaterasu myth with the Cronos/Zeus story.
And also forgive my crude use of Japanese. My only aide is Google Translate.]
of like how it hangs right now.
The Battle of Jato Valley is a riddle. A circumstance that still troubles the students of bushido, the priests of the kami, and lowly scholars such as myself. It concerns the most grave breach of the Celestial Order – a betrayal beyond the ken of the Sun and Moon.
themselves so greatly to serve the Three Falcons had paid dearly for her arrogance. The Battle of Jato Valley is one of the few defeats that the Matsu had ever experienced, and with such high stakes – the very honor of the Emperor himself, ah. She had thought to fight an easy skirmish, outnumbered her enemy five to one.
spell-sword.com 