The Elephant in the Room: “Of Course I Did It. I'm Me.”

I will never forget when I found the black-haired girl, in the real world in of November 2020, and realized holy shit it's her. I stared down, at my phone. I screamed. I threw the phone. Sat down. My head swam as I sat down and looked at the floor. And then considered checking myself into a funny farm. I thought about it long and hard. I decided not to, because who was going to take care of our kids? Maria would have to work.  The kids would be wondering what the heck happened, and I would never be able to explain that. And how do you explain to a spouse that you checked yourself into a psych ward because you recognized someone from a dream???

So. That was off the table. Whatever was going on, I had to figure it out.

Boy, lucky me!

So, I sat down and examined what I was feeling. It wasn't "I think I know this person." It was "I know this person. I know her, and I have never seen her before in my... oh shit." The response was a combination of recognition, shock and utter fear. I couldn't find any wishful thinking anywhere in my response. I couldn't find anything that was trying to make this person more meaningful to me. If anything, the opposite was there. I am Maria's, thank you very fucking much. That is something that has been a part of me since seven years old. It is not going to change, for so many reasons.

So... what the hell was I feeling? What was this? Who was she?

And why did it feel like she was in trouble? Oh goody, how ridiculous is that? I sneered, ignored it. But the feeling kept going, until I thought it was going to drive me actually crazy. So, I did the one thing I could: I prayed for her. It was all I had. No ethical contact was possible, or even desirable. There was either praying for her, and feeling like I was as at least doing something, or there was just.. sitting in this overwhelming  push to pray for her. It was like someone had opened up my brain and began a constant download of this need to pray for her.

But it never got so overwhelming that I couldn't ask: why me?

Like, seriously, why me? 

Why was I feeling this? 

I had not the privilege for doubt, which is one of the most insanely painful  things you can imagine. I wanted to doubt, and couldn't. It made absolutely no sense, but it was happening, and there was nothing I could do but pray for this stranger and hang on for dear life. I could feel I was burning a trail, somehow, with every last bit of me on fire to keep this person supported.  I felt like I was in a continuum of flame, with a river I couldn't understand extending before and behind me indefinitely.

So late 2020 through 2025 gave me absolutely no time for answers.

2026, and suddenly the overwhelming push stopped. Poof. Gone. Along with all memory of that river of fire. It was like someone reached down, plucked me out of this fiery existence, and dumped me back on dry (and cool) ground.

And then let me be.

I have had enough spiritual experiences in my life to not be terribly surprised that the memory of the experience left. The Spirit, when He stops doing a particular thing, takes it from you, and that's it. You knew what you needed to know, and now that you don't need to know it, it's gone.

But the question remained.

Why me?

This was a question that burned me in me all of 2026, up until... a few days ago.

At the top and center of all Orthodox churches hangs the Pantorcrator: Christ the Judge. He holds the closed book of judgement, the one where you find out if you treated the least fortunate like Christ. It's closed, because no one will know how they did until the end.

I have a habit of looking dead in the eyes of the one that hangs above us as I go up to communion. During that time, ever since I knew who the black-haired (now) woman is, I have felt the urge to pray for her. It's a brief moment of wishing that, whatever I get from communing, she gets it too.

For the past five years I have looked up, into the eyes of the Just Judge, and slowly, over the course of the five years, a question began to form in my mind, in the form of a Silent, Still, Quiet, Voice.

Why you?

The Voice became quieter and more forceful with time. Each time, there was some variation of "I don't know, but I'm doing it anyway. If it's wrong... please forgive me. I don't know what else to do." The sense was always that the answer I gave was honest, but it was incomplete. But as the question got more and more forceful, so did my honest response: "I don't know, but You won't take this from me, so I am going to do it!" And that, again, felt honest. It was the best I could do, and that was enough, for right then and there, but it wasn't right.

The night before liturgy, I lay day next to Maria. And in that moment, I felt the familiar twinge of overwhelming attraction I've always felt for her. Over the last ten years, since remembering being abused as a child, I have had a difficult time with the reality of my pull towards Maria, for reasons that shouldn't take much to suss out.

But this night, I lay next to her, and I knew. Knew. That the pull was simply because we existed. It had no moral component to it. It was a symptom of something that was simply us. We existed, and we belonged together, and it was my peculiarity that I needed her as much as I always have. Twelve years in, and I'm practically like a teenager around Maria, even now.

And for the first time in ten years it felt okay that that was how it was. Smiling, I stroked my wife's shoulder in affection, and went to sleep. I just was what I was.

The next day, as I went to communion, I felt the tug to pray for the black-haired girl. I did. I looked up, like I always did.

Why you? 

And this time I looked into the eyes of the Almighty and said, with a calm tremble:

“Because You made me to do it. This is who I AM. I could do nothing else. Of course I did it. I'm me. Thank you."

Yes, I capitalized it on purpose, for in that moment there was a feeling that something far larger and incomprehensible joined me for those two words.

For one second the One Beyond Defining met a little micro/macrocosm.  Two voices spoke. And the voices were joined. And were one.

Why me? Because what was needed was precisely what I did. It happened because, faced with someone that good and pure-hearted, it wouldn't even seriously occur to me to take what wasn't mine. I was content. I am Maria's. Content, I could do what needed to be done.

There's other questions I still have: why show me that vision of the future? Why take it from me, along with everything else? I remember that I had the vision, once, but I can't remember it directly anymore, because it has been removed. Why do that to me? 

But the primary question I had for going on six years is now quiet. And that quiet is such a blessing.

The Fall of the King of Sota: Chapter Eleven

 

You know, I finally had a lesson coalesce with this particular chapter session: if people want fantasy, they want a magic sword, the big fights with the monsters, the passionate romances, all that. That's how it is, that's what they want. For a very long I fought doing those kinds of moments in fantasy RPGs, and after this particular session I know why.

You see, supranatural good and evil only really as a breakthrough of the glass ceiling or floor. You must have a sense of the mundane of that world. You must learn what feels normal, boring, happy, sad, desperate. There’s a reason Tolkien writes about trees so much: so when you don’t have them, it hurts. And when you get them back, you’re relieved. 

And when Elendil’s light comes out of the vial, you feel that you are witnessing something unique, something you can hold as holy.

Crescendo sticks you in your character’s head, gets you in his darkness. His foibles. So that you yearn for goodness. For absolution.

For mercy.

That way, when it happens, you feel it. Because you have felt the continuum of wretchedness, and the mercy hits all these cracks that you felt, and there's one answer to so many questions, all at once.

Chapter Eleven: September 13th

This one moment, right at the end, when Seren pulls the Sword of Uriel out of the ground and destroys Eoc with it in one stroke, cannot be replicated in any other media. Everyone had been in this downward spiral. They'd lost their home, New Sota City, compromised themselves over and over, in some cases doing outright evil, and they couldn't stop. This wasn't a passive thing: it was active participation in rapid degeneration.

And then someone got a sword from an angel, and reminded us all, after all that pain and awfulness, that life really can be that simple.

And that, when goodness acts, there isn't even a body for evil left on the earth.

Notice it's the dude playing the monster who cheers louder than anyone else.

That exact feeling going through everyone's frame was why Crescendo was made. It is why the game exists.

I'm still in awe that it works.

The Fall of the King of Sota: Chapter Ten

 

The Ideal for Weaving

Crescendo's name for the host is the Weaver. I hate it when TTRPGs have a name different from the Game Master... and my game has a different name for it. So. The name was chosen for a good reason. The Weaver's function is to combine all the bits from his Setting with the Player's Beliefs and the results of Hitting the Books. His job is not to know what is going to happen, or to even do any starting scenario, but to know his Setting well enough to pivot on a moment's notice to what's going on. While GMs are expected to do this, it is not their primary function, unlike the Weaver: it is not a function of the the Weaver, but the primary function.

Because Crescendo takes away all session prep from the Weaver, their primary job is to build a world that they understand, and then take the punches as they come, weaving together all the seemingly disparate threads with the world they built.

Chapter Ten was a pretty darn good example of it.

August 28th Through September 5th

Unfortuntaely, Arriquard's player had to step out, due to a ton of scheduling conflicts. So we had to write him out. It was a sad day, but this is a long-running game, and it happens.

On August 28th, the werecrocodiles launch a short sortie against Newport, but are rebuffed, and Lord Arriquard sacrifices his life in the effort. King Lucian himself fought like a demon, earning the admiration of all.

August 29th

Lady Marie connects with the other heads of Newport, especially Lord Phillippe, and they begin to rebuild the city, on *their* dime. This doesn't go unnoticed. Or unappreciated.

From 28th-31st

Seren and Silvy venture out into the woods with the newly-consecrated exorcism cauldron, and spend the day exorcising the strange fire spirit from there. It flees south, away from the Serpent Forest... where it suddenly *vanishes.*

September 1st

The new year! Celebrations all around!

September 2nd-5

Lady Marie takes over the standing army that Lord Arriquard had built, making them the security forces of *all* the rice farmers, specifically. It was not accomplished without a fight: Silvy the elf, known for her deeds of heroism, tried to take over as well. In the end, however, Lady Marie won out.

By the end of September 5th it's clear that something disastrous is developing in the farms surrounding Newport: wives are accused of going into the city to cheat on husbands, en masse. Rumors abound about everyone, and morale in the farms is becoming disastrously low. If this isn't dealt with, you will all lose your food supply due to violence.

On September 5th, the monstrous Abbadon, along with his fell beast, parks outside the city walls of Newport. And sits. He's impossible to miss. He does not threaten everyone. He just sits.

September 6th Through 10th

Lady Marie provides support for stopping the forest fire. She takes over the Civilian Army, formerly led by Lord Arriquard, to help get the fire put out and supply the volunteers who are helping. Food is secured and spread.

Seren finds Bishop Tatius, and encourages him to go through the city, spreading encouragement and hope.

Unrest continues in the farms around Newport, which Seren begins to investigate. Abbadon has continued to sit outside the city walls. He doesn't threaten anyone, nor does he really comment upon anything. He just sits.

September 8th was the Feast of the Mothers, when all the mothers of the Outsider, and the mothers of all the heroes, saw the future, and knew what their children would become. Children are handed charcoal, and allowed to go into the churches and scribble on the walls. The priests use these scribbles for fortune-telling purposes throughout the year.

Chapter Ten: September 11th Through 12th

The Fallout

Unfortunately, Kuri was pretty upset with how the chapter went down. I offered to talk, and we figured out what happened. I was given explicit permission by her to write it down here.

I accidentally had blocked one of Kuri's turns. Kuri was set to Defy, dice literally rattling around in hand, and I accidentally skipped her, when I shouldn't have. Kuri, being a polite human being, tried to sit back and wait for a gap... but she was contending with Golden and I, who are both very extroverted and have a habit to get on a roll. Now, I know this about myself, and have spent most of my life working myself from it. But, occasionally, I'll slip up.

And that's exactly what I did here.

I told Kuri that anyone has explicit permission to just say "Nathan, shut the fuck up," and I will immediately do so, and assume that I missed a social cue. I apologized to her, and gave her an extra kicker, as she didn't get anything of what she wanted from the chapter. We didn't break anything that happened in this chapter, and it flowed naturally from the fiction that had played out.

I was gonna write what it was.

But you know what? No. Let the players be surprised by what Kuri's got now. I owe her.

This kind of thing happens, unfortunately, but it's a normal part of a healthy social game: cues are missed and things have to get addressed.

What Crescendo Feels Like

There’s a particular texture to a long Crescendo campaign (called an Epic), that’s hard to explain to anyone who hasn’t lived inside one. It starts messy. It gets complicated, less a game you play and more a pressure system you inhabit for a couple of years.

This is my best attempt at putting that feeling into words.  

Honestly, the first six sessions are usually like static: random stuff happens, there’s not that much of a flow to it. At first, you’re just trying to win. Everyone is enjoying playing their characters to the hilt and causing as much damage as possible. There’s this sense that only your actions matter, and the world doesn’t really track what you’re doing.

Then you hit the first Storystein, where your gameplay is judged, and only one person doesn’t get kicked in the balls. The punishments are randomly assigned, with varying levels of harm handed out without rhyme or reason.

And then you’re thrown back into the mix. And you're told that the Storystein will happen another two times this Book, and may God have mercy on you, because the next time may be worse and nobody will know till we get there/

The game rewards you for good RP. It punishes you for being stupid, hard.

Around session six, patterns begin to emerge in Hitting the Books. Results begin feeding into each other, and suddenly you get the suspicion you are in something way larger than the group’s squabbles. The world is changing, and it’s changing in ways you can’t expect, and suddenly all those other players are starting to look more like allies… but the game rewards you hurting them. And you need those Fate Points. So you poke just enough to get your Fate, but not too much to get too comfortable. You never know when someone will harvest Fate from your misfortune, so you have to stay on your toes.

By the time the first Book ends, you are exhausted. You just went 12-24 sessions, brutal knock-down drag-out brawls, with your friends, and you feel different. Your character feels different. And maybe you feel like stopping. For good. 

But then you’re told there’s probably another… wait…. 30-50 sessions waiting? After a full arc, where you definitely feel like stuff got wrapped up. So the question becomes: "How???" It's a full story arc, what else could be lacking?

Crescendo has a secret weapon: the Book Number. It is a simple concept: each Epic is organized into Books, and you give each Book a number: 1, then 2, then 3, etc. This Book Number is factored into the difficulty of dice rolls as well as how explosive their results are, how punishing the game is, and how many resources the Weaver gets to throw at the players.

The Book Number is a difficulty and scale slider. Book 1 is generally pretty grounded and low-fantasy, Book 2 is a bit louder, and Book 3... well it's practically Armageddon. 

So, if you just give it one or two sessions in Book 2, after Book 1, suddenly those next sessions are harder. A lot harder. The Conditions are worse. Rolling dice is more expensive and they blow way up faster. And the Fate Point rewards go up substantially, more than enough to cover it and then some… opening up other avenues. Like slowing down or speeding up the actions of the Weaver and the other players. Suddenly a bidding war has become a big part of the game, as y’all squabble, more and more, over time. Book 2 becomes cerebral and more primal, at the same time, baffingly so.

Book 3 turns this up even more. Suddenly the apocalypse is always around the corner, yet you have more power than ever... and yet you've never had so little control. Things go sideways at the drop of a dime. The slightest mistake goes so far south that Antarctica is looking surprised. And it's fun! It's tons of fun! But... it's exhausting. The ending is coming up, and you can feel it.

I've never gone to Book 4. So I have no idea what that feels like, but my goodness I've never seen anyone want to go that far.

And that right there takes you about... two or possibly three years to play out, which is more than long enough to make you feel nostalgic for those early days. So if you go for it again, you suddenly are given a new tool: the journal from the previous Epic! And suddenly all that information you spent two to three years recording? It starts to filter into the next Epic, creating curious new through-lines over the next Epic that you weren't ready for.

So, even though you started all over, you can't, not really.

The early static is gone for good. You can still hear it in the distance—those first messy sessions where nothing mattered except the next swing—but you can’t live there anymore. The journal won’t let you. Every new Book One arrives already carrying ghosts: old debts, quiet vendettas, strange coincidences that only you and the Weaver fully recognize.  

And somehow that makes the whole thing heavier and more compelling at the same time. You’re not just playing another Epic. You’re continuing a conversation that started years ago, whether you meant to or not.  

That’s the part no rulebook prepares you for. Crescendo doesn’t simply get louder. It gets into your bones. And once it does, even the silence between campaigns feels like part of the music.

RPGs Have an Identity Problem

"We think that we know a man or a woman, when so much of what we know is actually that man's or that woman's situation, his or her place on the board of life. Move the pawn to the last row and see her rise in armor, sword in hand." 

— Gene Wolfe, Home Fires

"In so far as I am not loved, I am unintelligible to myself."

- St. Dimitru Staniloae, The Experience of God

The central problem of most RPGs is the lack of any real-group dynamics, also known as the "get along gang": people who are together and it makes absolutely no sense as to why. They haven't killed each other, but they're not friends, despite having lived through tumultuous circumstances together. There's a gray zone where nothing is truly established in the group, and people just sorta... muddle along. No matter what happens, nothing changes between characters, not really.

For an extreme structural example: in one game a player ran an openly evil character who began committing escalating acts of coercion and sexual abuse against an NPC. His alignment was known, yet it still left the table unable to read the situation. I thought it would do enough, but it didn't, because there were still too many gray spots. Was this coherent (if reprehensible) roleplay? Boundary-testing? A cry for help from a player who was personally deteriorating? Because the characters had no real relationships or shared moral baseline, and the players had no deeper knowledge of one another’s characters or states, everyone stayed stuck in that gray zone—uncertain how, or whether, to respond.

Old-schoolers will think that I am solely referring to modern DnD tables there, but no. The same things can happen at old-school tables, and it looks about the same, between the characters and their players.

See, both games do the same thing:

"Hi, I'm Nathan, and I'm playing Xenith, a lawful good paladin".

You see the problem? These are aspects of someone, but they're not who the person is. If anything, these are the makings of a parasocial relationship. Xenith is a lawful good paladin, sure. But nobody would know what to do with that. You get a picture, but you don't get a person out of that. How far can you push Xenith's lawful tendencies? He's a paladin, but why? What drives him in being a paladin? What get him to stop? And how might Xenith change his small and personal aspects, the stuff that actually makes roleplaying fun? These are questions that players actually need the answers to, in order to roleplay. And, let's be clear, sometimes players do need to ask these questions. A game that's about playing a role shouldn't make you guess as to how to address them. That utter lack of clarity makes the central point of the game a matter of luck or tons of trial and error.

Which games are specifically supposed to not do!

And before some smartass points out that DnD's source material doesn't do this, it absolutely does, even with Conan, who was said to wander because he was struggling with depression and black moods that he tried to avoid. You know exactly who Conan is: a man driven by his darkness to find life, however he can get it, morality be damned.

And, again, before some smartass points out this is theatre kids shit, I remind you that 1e ADnD literally has a table for how the races are supposed to interact with each other, and penalizes you for ignoring it.

Yes, RAW 1e DnD enforces RPing. But it also falls into the same problem: the center of what makes a character a character is not actually addressed. It has better tools, sure, and you could use them better, but better doesn't mean good, it doesn't make roleplaying a game.

This problem was solved, almost entirely, the instant I went to Burning Wheel. See, Burning Wheel has what are called Beliefs, and they are public knowledge. Here's Xenith's Beliefs, if I were to put him into Burning Wheel:

1. Bahamut the Platinum Dragon spared me from a life of hardship; my sword is his.

2. Honor is the only thing that matters.

3. Elkvor took advantage of my mercy. I will not let that happen again.

The difference really couldn't be starker, could it? You know exactly what Xenith is about now. The Beliefs are public, and nobody has to guess about what Xenith is about. And because the other players don't have to guess, they will treat Xenith in a consistent way, and that consistency will create a sense of identity.

And with identity, there's relationship in return. And now you have a cycle going. A loop that will keep people coming back for more.

Not only that, but thanks to the artha system, you know I am rewarded for playing my Beliefs to cause drama, and for playing against my Beliefs, if I think it a good idea. There's even a "Go do something so awesome that it just isn't captured by your Beliefs" reward, and it leads to some truly elevated roleplay. Now other players can decide to write Beliefs that clash with mine, or that work with it, and they get rewarded with power regardless. The most basic social element, choosing to ally or be against, suddenly becomes an actual choice in the roleplaying game. Alliances and grudges now have gameplay weight, because identity is clear.

With Beliefs public and rewarded, the gray zone collapses. Xenith is no longer a collection of labels; he is a person the table can see, push, support, or oppose. Alliances and grudges gain weight because identity is no longer a guessing game. Move the pawn to the last row, and the character can finally rise in armor, sword in hand—because everyone at the table now knows who he is, including his player.

The Fall of the King of Sota: Chapter Nine

 

It Has Begun

The beginning chapter sessions of Crescendo are always chaotic. The story begins to explode in different directions, seemingly without rhyme or reason, and players hang on for dear life, as the story seems to go anyway it likes. These sessions are incredibly fun, but they are the minority in an epic of Crescendo. Somewhere between six to twelve chapter sessions, the journals have built up enough critical mass that patterns begin to emerge. And then suddenly the players become aware that the game hasn't been exploding randomly:

It's been constructing a funnel with their journal entries.

And now they're in it. And they can't get out. Each twitch draws the net tighter, makes it more definite, gives it more shape, pushes you along the funnel.

The further you get into this seemingly random funnel, the less random and more inevitable things feel. By the time session thirty or so comes around... you're ready for it to close. You want to know how it ends.

The BROSR has "convergences". Crescendo has the funnel of consequences.

Last night, Chapter Nine started that process. A whole bunch of pieces clicked together, and a definite shape began to emerge. It's still too undefined at the moment, but mark my words:  by the close of the second crescendo session (which is coming in the middle of this month), people are going to start feeling it definitely.

There is nothing else like this in any other RPG: destiny is pushing you along, and yet it is your choice where you go while you're being pushed, so long as you keep going.

Chapter Nine (August 30th)

This was another session that just came out of left field... and yet the sense of purpose has begun to leak in. It takes players a long time to get used to just how differently Crescendo operates. It requires only that you put in journal entries, and that you RP to the hilt, and that you let the consequences be completely unexpected, like they were tonight.

(Oh, and in case anyone wonders if this kind of redemption is the actual point of Crescendo, beneath the PVP, the seeming upheavals, and the utter craziness of it all.... well it is a game based on Gene Wolfe. You shouldn't be wondering.)

The Elephant in the Room: Moving On

 

Months have gone on since what I thought of as the end of this series. And, here I am, writing more. Why? Simple. I have absolutely no idea what to do with... all of this. 

So, let's recap: from 16-37, almost 38, I had continuous dreams of a black-haired girl, who aged linearly, properly, as you would have expected. These dreams covered her maturation, and included some pretty gnarly stuff, like being set on fire, fighting monsters for her, and then sitting with her as she grew up and tried to process whatever was going on in her waking life. I started recovering these dreams after literally dying and coming back. And then, once I wrote A Conclusive Holding Pattern, I had one more dream, which I wrote down, and then everything stopped. Or, I think it stopped. I have a feeling it's still going on, but for whatever reason it's been blocked.

Almost 17 years (I didn't dream at all in the Army, so there's four years gone there) of some of the most vivid, cathartic, awful, and tender things got burned into my memory, and then it stops.

What the fuck.

Now, I'm not judging what I'm writing. I'm just going to write and post. I've done that for years, and it's served me well.

But this one post, I am second-guessing that. Maybe I should.

But here we go.

I know why I was allowed to remember. I've heard other people's experiences, enough of them to know I'm not alone in having this kind of thing happen. The difference is I was allowed to experience it sharply enough to not be able to deny it. And it was a mercy that I did. See, I had stopped believing in my ability to be a good person. It wasn't that I thought I was a bad guy, it was that I could no longer believe I was a good person, in any capacity. I had no confidence in my ability to do the right thing.

These... whatever they are... were forced back into my consciousness to make me unable to turn away from one fact: I do actually have a spark of goodness left. It's there. I can't fight it. I can't hide from it. I am capable of great acts of goodness for people I don't know. And I know this person is in the waking world, right now. I know this. I also know talking to this person, just out of the blue, will do no one any good. The decision to not bother her was made so quickly that it barely counts as a decision. It was reflex.

I saw her. I knew it was her. And I knew somehow that it was none of my business whether she remembered or not.

Okay, cool, again reflex.

It's an act of grace I would dearly love to deny, but I can't. I know what I chose to do, and I know it's binding, and that's not  the thing that I care about.

I cannot stop asking myself why the dreams stopped. I can feel it needed to happen. The ability to handle the dreams was slipping from me. I had four years of consciously remembering them in real-time going on, and that takes a toll, and it was time to let me rest. I get this.

In my head.

But four years.. it becomes a part of you. And now it's not. And it's not even been six months, and I simply do not know how it's supposed to flush out of me.

I am not trying to find a solution.

I am simply admitting that, on some level, there's an open question and I don't know how to address it, but I'm going to try to here:

What was the point?

I'm not sure, but I do know the following things. 

Lies have an actual impact upon your body. Take it from someone who has been facing the truth of two childhood rapes and multiple years of abuse atop it: every single time I have uncovered a lie told to me by my oppressors that I believed, it hurt me, and not just psychologically and spiritually, but especially physically. It has always been a drain. And I have lot of lies I internalized, and the further I get into this the more I realize just how much it has screwed up my physical health. One of the greatest obvious lies of the modern age is that believing a lie can be healthy. The concept of the "noble lie" has absolutely no basis in reality, whatsoever. Sorry. I've yet to encounter one. 

So there's no "who cares if it's factual or not, as long as it heals you?" If it heals you it's because there's truth in it. Period.

The truth, on the other hand, has always had a positive impact, once ingested properly. There are hard truths, and those hard truths can be extremely difficult to figure out how to contextualize. If you are withholding the truth from someone because they may not be willing or able to properly utilize it, that is a very different conversation. You withhold the truth because it may not be useful, but it is not an ideal state, and hopefully you will be able to end that. The truth is something that must be frequently wrestled with, but doing so, in hope, is always a healing process.

Always.

And I know this: every single moment of these last years has been a gauntlet, right to the face. Finding the black-haired girl in the real world was horrifyingly difficult, but it awoke tenderness in me that I didn't know I could have for my wife and children. The effects of knowing the dreams hurt, but it kept making me a kinder, gentler person, in remembering them. Dying and coming back from the dead with this vision burning in my chest was extremely harsh but, once again, the effects have been healing, soul-mind-body. 

Lies.

Cannot.

Heal.

Painful as it is to admit, losing access to the dreams as they happen in real-time has also pushed me forward. I have had to learn to address the present again, in ways I forgot I even could. Knowing who the black-haired girl is is heinously difficult, just in the sense that I wonder what she knows, but being happy for her, without having a conscious part in it anymore while knowing I once did conscious knowledge, has made me a kinder, gentler, person. It's not comfortable, and it's made me face up to parts of me I'd much rather forget existed, but I am definitely healing.

There.

Are.

No.

Noble.

Lies.

And this realization that truth handled in hope always heals, and one cannot heal from lies, is a knowledge that is slowly but surely seeping into my bones. Little bit by little bit, more and more, I believe it. The random flashes that she is aware of me, which sometimes get me willing to try living again, are born of a genuine insight, however strange it may be. I need do nothing other than know it and let that knowledge heal me.

Somewhere, somehow, there is another person living a life and loving and living to the utmost, who occasionally looks into the sky, and wonders at the feeling that someone is looking back.

And one day, she will see me and go "I know you". And wave. She will be surrounded by her friends and family and be so happy.

And I, from my own tribe, mine own statistically impossible tribe, will smile. And wave back. And say "Yes, yes you do."

That is something to hope for. Hope does not disappoint.

The Fall of the King of Sota: Chapter Eight

 

I learned more about how to host a session in these last 19 days than I have in the last 20 years. And it was born because of pressure I found to be extreme.

So, first things first: we decided to play Crescendo two weekends a month. We're playing twice in those weekends, because there's too many players for me to run all at once, so the chaos is just incredible. The interlude plotting needed more room to breathe. So, we all talked like adults and figured it out.

I had two weddings to go to. Two weekends, back to back. I have several small children. So. It was going to be a shitshow, logistically. I warned everyone about this, and told them that I couldn't necessarily be on time with interlude orders. It was just going to be too much for me. Everyone gave the green light, told me to go at whatever pace I could.

The following was constructed by just... listening to what people wanted to do, and smashing it all together with a few simple dice rolls.

August 10th-17th

Silvy, after the three days of terror are done (see Chapter 7), helps with the survivors of the demonic possession. It’s contained, and very effectively.

Lord Arriquad grabs any food stores being hoarded, turning them into a City Army on a group of well-guarded wagons. He distributes food from these stores to fighting-men (anyone who joins the City Army) plus a couple of dependents each.

The City Army guards the food-wagons, and react to news of attacks by monsters or the eldritch by showing up and fighting. Fighting-men are more valuable than general civilians. There are regular patrols. They spread the idea that we, the survivors of the destroyed city, are the favoured, graced by Saint Laurentius, destined to conquer new lands - starting with the weak and iniquitous Newport. KING LUCIAN SHALL RULE”, is the declaration of the City Army.

After fording the river, a creature in a cloak, riding a fell beast, announced himself to the refugees. He called himself Abbadon , and claimed Newport as his domain. King Lucian greed to not usurp Abaddon. They merely needed a place to rest, as the peoples of New Sota City were tired. Abaddon withdrew, as the refugees made their way to Newport.

August 18th-27th

A strange man was seen carrying a sack as the convoy got to New Sota City. Silvy and Seren cornered him as he ran, and took the sack. The strange man got away. 

The bag was huge. And squeaked. And moved. 

Sily and Seren burned the bag. 

Suddenly there was a loud incoherent babbling, and the whole convoy turned on them. Miraculously, Silvy got away unscathed. Seren was not so lucky: his head was severely hurt. A kind family took him in. 

The charred corpses of rats were found in the bag, along with human bones.

Abbadon tries to take 100 soldiers from Arriquard for his own force, at the blessing of King Lucian. Warned by Eoc, Lady Marie manages to get ahead of Abbadon's propaganda and stops him. No one follows him.

King Julian, backed by Lady Marie's money, buys some of the slums in the southwest part of Newport, land generously granted by Lord Phillipe.

A healed Seren presents himself to King Julian and Lord Arriquard when they are settled, pledging allegiance.

A night time raid happens on the smithing guild, with a bunch of weapons stolen. The weapons are found very easily in the New Sota City Army.

Teller, head of the farming guild in Newport City, is found dead, smothered by a pillow. Nobody has any idea who it could be.

The forests across the river begin to burn, and it's rumored that something is dancing amidst the flames, singing an insane song.

August 28th: Chapter Eight

Not a single dice was rolled, and yet the tension was here. And the formula was simple: give a goal, give a time limit. It's so simple. As soon as there's a time limit and a general idea of how the world works, everyone starts to game it. They start to ask questions to try and figure out any niche.

This is the first time the players tried to game the Myth itself. And it worked, like a freaking charm. 

Sit down. Create a context. Give a problem. Set a time limit. Let the players figure it out.

Literally nothing else is necessary. If the mechanics of your game don't provide a framework for that, your game is worthless.

Evolving Braunstein Tech: Initial Situations

 

I have decided that the Non-Stop Braunstein is my thing.

That means all players meet regularly, in an evolving conflict, scheming between sessions in a rigorously enforced time schedule. The Judge sets up the intial conflict, maintains fog of war and enforces the general shape of the conflict. 

But there’s not just one kind of conflict. Below are the kinds of conflicts I have found. “Law” is defined as caring for the weak and group cohesion, best exemplified in monarchy. “Chaos” is defined as the triumph of the strongest individual, best exemplified by dictatorship.

If this is your first time being told monarchy and dictatorship are opposed, you got some serious reading to do.

Why Define Them?

Because implications choke communication, long-term. If you use these terms as the beginning of your conversations, to describe, rather than to restrain, everything will work smoother. If you find the game is changing its central kind of conflict, talk about it!

Anyone using this terminology as a straitjacket is not using these terms as intended.

Types of Conflicts… So Far

This list is hardly exhaustive. This is going to go in the Crescendo Core Rulebook. If you know of other types of conflicts, please suggest them!

Law Purifying

All the players are part of Lawful factions, with Chaos pressing in. The players will need to prove who is the most lawful, who takes care of the weak and the group the best. 

Chaos, managed by the Judge, provides a foil and canon against which the lawful prove themselves. If the lawful aren’t doing their jobs, chaos will figure it out quickly and punish the players.

We're currently running this kind of conflict for The Fall of the King of Sota.

Chaos Degenerating

The forces of Chaos have won. The strongest have prevailed… and now we play out Law trying to return. The players get to ride the elevator to Hell, with gusto. It’s a grand catharsis!

The Judge plays out the forces of law attempting to rebuild, with military and culture and civilization trying to renew in the face of the wasteland that is Chaos.

Law vs Chaos

This is really straightforward. Players are divvied up between the two alignments evenly, and whoever wins, wins. The Judge sits back and ensures fair play.

Judgment Day

An end of everything has come. The players are divvied up evenly, and the Judge tries to destroy them, openly.

Red Tape vs Secrecy

From the conversations setting up Rylothstein. A large bureaucracy against a small insurgency. The bureaucracy must survive its red tape so it can find the insurgents, who are flexible but must not be found.

Free for All

From the conversations for the Streetstein. A bunch of equal factions who are trying to win. 

Returning To Tenra Bansho Zero

 

Tenra Bansho Zero is one of the most influential games I have ever read. Its translated titled ("All Things Under Heaven and Earth") is literally what I named this blog after... and I have also never played a full game of it. 

We'll get back to why in a minute. 

But. 

In so many ways, this one game has defined my tastes. At one point, I gave my very nice copy to Pau Villarreal of The Warning. Well, I don't know if she got it. I sent it via the mail, and have to hope it got there. I figured she'd like the setting and it would get her imagination pumped. Hopefully I was right, but we'll never know. Ironically enough, the giving away of this book began an era of reading and investigation into the BR/OSR... which is coming to an end, as I picked up another copy. Not the fancy one. You can't find that one for a reasonable price, not anymore. Pau's got it, and I hope she's enjoying it, assuming she kept it.

The heart of TBZ is The Aiki-Kiai-Karma system. Each character has three Fates, which are these really open-ended statements of character, such as "Emotion: Hatred of Lord Kutuwara", or "My sword is the answer". Very open-ended, very simple stuff. Whenever you do something awesome with these Fates that everyone else likes, they can give you Aiki chits. You can spend Aiki, but it's not very powerful. However, if you wait until a good moment, you can convert Aiki into Kiai, which functionally does the same thing as Aiki, but you get a ton more of it. Like, 5x-6x more. Tons. If you spend Kiai, it gets marked as Karma. If you accumulate 108 Karma you became an Asura, a demon who is utterly incapable of change. And you then hand your character sheet to the GM, who then uses him to torment the other players.

It cannot be understated how much fun this one little system is. Players handing each other chits, which they then have to hoard in order to be of use, and then have to be careful about spending, is... there's nothing like it. There just isn't. People begin to lean into what the other players like, creating a feedback loop where everyone slowly gets more and more into their character. This enthusiasm transmutes into power in the game... and can lead to tragedy. There's something so layered, so genuine, so beautiful, about this loop. No other game comes close to it. Burning Wheel gets close, and Crescendo gets closer yet, but nothing beats the immediacy and depth  of Tenra Bansho Zero.

The setting book is also the single best setting book I've ever read. Ever. It is a blanket of loose ends, open spaces, unsaid things, and tragedies. There's tons of mundane details in here, all of which are just right. It is the only setting book I've ever read that justifies its existence, and we'll get back to why that is in a second, as well.

That's two grenades. Jeez.

The setting book is short, sweet, and knows exactly how much information to dole out. I could probably make scenarios out of this sucker for years.

Two and a half grenades!

Let's pull one now! Why did I give the game away? To a person who doesn't know me? Well, simply put: I couldn't figure out a way to pitch it to people! The hyper Asian setting is not something that actually appealed to my players at the time. The mechanics are great, but we had Burning Wheel, which scratches a very specific itch, and we now have Crescendo, which scratches that itch better. TBZ is not a campaign game. The mechanics aren't suited to it, period. The changes are so deliberately rapid that you shouldn't necessarily make sequels with the same characters. I didn't have anyone who needed just a quick pick-me-up.

So I gave it away. Like I said, I hoped Pau would get something out of the setting book.

After that, a funny thing happened: I started to slowly investigate the BR/NU/O-SR. I kinda figured I could find something to pick up the "adventure game" niche that TBZ so nicely filled, which Burning Wheel and Crescendo so definitely don't. And... well... I didn't, overall. I got ACKSII and 1e and Wight-Box, which is actually pretty good! Not to mention the Into the Odd family of games! I love them and will use them! But... they didn't scratch the itch. Not the very specific itch that was slowly developing: a game I could sorta pour myself into, and bring out for short bursts, with people either willing to take a chance or okay with just doing a one-shot. And, honestly, I wanted to give this incredible game another chance.

So. I picked it up again. I am just going to go and make a scenario, walk into my workplace, hand them the character sheets, and tell them they're playing. They'll play, because they're bored and we have nothing else to do at some very particular hours. And we'll play. And we'll have a blast. I know we will, because they trust my taste and are just bored enough. Just.

And then I’ll do it again.

And again.  

Maybe that’s the point. After years of circling this game—giving it away, hunting for something that could replace it, finally buying it back—I’m done waiting for the perfect table or the perfect pitch. Tenra Bansho Zero has already shaped how I think about play, about character, about the quiet tragedy of becoming something you can’t take back. Now I just want to see what happens when other people get their hands on those chits and those Fates.

I’ll throw it at my coworkers. 

I’ll throw it at my kids. And if it works even half as well as I remember it working on the page, I’ll finally stop treating this game like a secret I was never quite ready to share.

Onward!

1:1 Time With John McGowan

 

This was an amazing conversation I got to have with John McGowan! Thanks, John, for coming and talking!

The Fall of the King of Sota: Chapter Seven

 

This chapter session was a chef's kiss. It took chapter six and utterly turned it on its head. There's really not a lot more to be said, as the session really does speak for itself.

I suppose the one bit of commentary I will put in is that the role of Weaver really comes into play here. The two players are corralled back to each other, where their natural aspects naturally rub against each other.

This is a ridiculously easy game to run. Just herd the cats back into the octagon, and watch!

Chapter Seven (8/9)

The Fall of the King of Sota: Chapter Six

 

This continues to be the greatest gaming I have ever had. The last two weeks on the Discord have been some of the best and chaotic scheming I've ever seen, leading to a short but extremely climactic Chapter, where everything changed.

We are down to one mortal city: the criminal haven of Newport. And we have an entire city's worth of people at it from New Sota City.

July 24-August 7

People were going back and forth in the DMs for the longest time. But it all came down to this one short statement:

A high-stakes propaganda war between King Julian, Father Laurentius, Arriquard , and Lady Marie played out. King Julian and his helpers began to spread news of Lady Marie's debauched evil, and how cruelly she had used him. Against all expectations, Lady Marie pre-empted them with propaganda of how much help she had actually done for the rice farmers and the city, and her adopted daughter was much talked about in terms of her generosity. 

Arriquard successfully began raising an army for King Lucian's church, which was being set up against Mother Elise.

BUT ON AUGUST 4TH

Were-crocodiles, an entire army of them, invaded from Montport. Turns out they had totally taken over that city! And they showed up out of the blue! However, thanks to Arriquard's efforts in the previous five days, there just so happened to be a standing army that was forming.

The fighting was intense, and many died. However, New Sota City prevailed, and the were-crocodiles were driven away.

It all came down to one problem: when were the were-crocodiles showing up? It took some time to figure out exactly how it worked out... but it just so happened to occur just when everyone else was at enough of a critical mass to where it didn't turn into a total slaughter. And then the defenders rolled really high.

Chapter Six: August 7th

The fallout of this Chapter Session cannot be understated. Two of the most chaotic characters in the whole game are dead, and to save everyone else. New Sota City has been abandoned. There's an entire train of people heading to the worst city of the old world... which happens to be the last one.

What could go wrong?

Read-Thru of Wight-Box: Book One, Heroes

 

Okay, look, we gotta talk really quick.

Coz I screwed up.

I backed this day one. Was really excited for it. Went through all three books. And went, "Meh, I'll look at this later."

If the Basic Expert reads this, yeah, I slept on this.

Okay, crow's been eaten. Onward.

So, after a few months of just not looking at these three little booklets, I just picked 'em up on random. I'd not given up on the game, just it had been sitting there for an opportune moment. Well, this was that moment. I sat down, followed the directions, and made a character in... ten minutes. Like, a fully formed character. Ready to go. And a good amount of detail for something so fast, too!

That's absolutely crazy.

Some of the directions (like with elves) could have been clearer, but a quick internet search and pinging B/XE's Discord server answered them. It is essential to mention that they're friendly bunch, who put up with me pretty well! So, I was able to get my answers pretty quickly. One could argue that I shouldn't have to do that, but I've written enough rulebooks to know that is always going to be a thing, so you may as well have your community be friendly while you're at it.

For some reason, what was an otherwise unremarkable book stuck at out me this time. I've found that I have plenty of stuff where I have to put some intensive effort into setting up. I generally prefer it this way, to be honest. I like having some set up, because I like having thematic coherence; I find it fun. 

However, there's something just so incredibly pleasing about being able to sit down, roll 3d6 six times, and then make the best of it. It is a fundamentally different experience, but I am a glutton for collecting experiences, so, I am beginning to find that Wight-Box is scratching an itch that I didn't know I could have... with a bit of crunch and depth. Which Wight-Box has.

But no thieves, kthx.

And honestly? That’s fine. Because what Wight-Box delivers in return is something I didn’t realize I was missing: pure, unfiltered play. No sixty-page character backstory required. No session zero spreadsheet. Just roll your stats, pick a class, and go be a murderhobo (or a noble defender of the realm, whatever floats your boat). There’s a beautiful honesty to it.

I’ve spent years chasing elaborate campaigns, and thanks to Crescendo they my track record of successful launches are getting higher and higher. And that's great! But Wight-Box just hands you a little sailboat and says “the wind’s already blowing.” 

Ten minutes later you’re actually playing the damn game. 

And that's pretty nice.

The Fall of the King of Sota: Storystein 1 (1-5)

 

Last night the players saw the full scope of Crescendo 0e. The Storystein is a capstone event designed with one view in mind: force players to change their status quo. Players turtle and never really get their goals done, and it shouldn't be up to the Weaver to make them do it. And yet, turtling is really bad for gameplay and stories. So, what does the Storystein do? Force consequences. You either get what you want, or you don't, but stop pussyfooting around and move on.

This forcing of consequences then coalesces the narrative as you are playing, as opposed to after the conclusion of the campaign.

The set up is simple. Players provide a written case for why their case should be the only one to win. Their arguments are rated and given dice. After rolling initiative, the players begin to roll to see who gets what they want, one a time. The first person to succeed automatically makes everyone else lose.

Storystein 1 (Oikoya 23)

The status quo change is pretty profound. I am hooked. Let's do this. I can't wait for the next one!

The Fall of the King of Sota: Chapter Five

 

One of the things that is hard to communicate about Crescendo is not only how different each session feels, but how the game absolutely refuses to go according to your expectations. You absolutely cannot follow the rules as intended and not be surprised each session. There is nothing quite like the sheer level of tonal variety that Crescendo provides.

And this session showcases that reality really well.

The players and I thought this session would be an absolute bloodbath: the elf who keeps the evil within Cleft Mountain sealed away and the monstrous Abbadon, together in a session! That should not have worked out.

And yet.

This session brings out tech that I didn't even think may be necessary anymore: the direct challenging of Beliefs by the Weaver. Turns out, sometimes the players do manage to pull it together, and the Weaver has to be ready to make up situations that subvert and challenge their Beliefs/Debts.

ALSO: apparently I have a lot of homework. The players walked in with lore based off of what I had presented in the Setting Bible, in the first session, it turns out I may have more homework coming up. This was fantastic! People are understanding the bones of the setting well enough to riff of it and tell me what the setting does.

Chapter Five: Oikaya 19

The Fall of of the King of Sota: Chapter Four

 

This. This right here. Is the steel chair session. People started getting used to the system, and it just.. it sang. Crescendo's mechanics are reactive to player action. They intensify it and push it back into the fiction, making things wild and unpredictable.

And in this session, for the first time, I saw those mechanics sing. They weren't just good or even fantastic. Crescendo actually hit a Platonic ideal.

Oikaya 13-17

And, of course, it all began in the Discord. At the end of Chapter Three, we had a mob march on Lady Marie's compound. It all looked gone for Lady Marie. 

And then this happened.

Lady Marie’s forces, after three grueling days of fighting with the rioters, defeated them. The mob would have gotten Lady Marie, if not for the timely intervention of a young nobleman, named Eric. A rice farmer named Arriquard, along with  Father Laurentius, who were leading the mob, were injured and went into hiding… at least until Fr. Laurentius reappeared and began preaching about the evils of the nobility, particularly Lady Marie and Mother Elise, who were employing long-forgotten dark elf rituals to gain immortality through drinking children’s blood. He then began to give generously to the poor and homeless.

Ghosts have been spotted in the ruins of New Sota City, post-riots. People are beginning to wonder if the town isn’t legitimately cursed.


On Oikaya 17, a bunch of stones dropped from the sky, killing some, injuring others.

Dice were rolled and nothing went the way we expected. Lady Marie didn't go down, she got stronger. Not a damn thing that we thought was going to happen, did.

Chapter Four (Oikaya 17)

And then this utter apeshit craziness happened.

I don't have words. I genuinely don't. Cal and I talked on the phone afterwards, and were just... totally babbling about it. You have to see it to believe it. Every second is utter craziness. It really can't be summed up. It is a Platonic ideal.

Next week is the first Storystein. And that is when we make RPG history, because nothing else even remotely like this exists, anywhere. 

Demon City: Read Thru, Part Two

 

Welcome back! This week, we're continuing on with my read-thru of Demon City.

This game has found me in the middle of a really interesting transition, and it's relevant for this part of the read-through, so we're going to get into that first.

Yes, There is Objectively Good Design in TTRPGs

We have to get this out of the way, because apparently it's a controversial point. There's good game design, as an objective reality.

I will define what good design is for the purposes of this blog post:

Design that, when used properly, gives back more than it takes.

Random tables are objectively good design. They almost always give back more than they take. Obviously, it's possible for implementation to screw up a random table. Yes, it's possible to screw up implementation, but it's pretty hard to really screw up a random table. The point is, a random table takes a load off the GM that allows him to not spend so freaking much mental power during the game. It is objectively better to have a random table over not having one. Sorry not sorry.

There is also bad design:

Design that, even when used properly, takes more energy than what it gives back. 

The entirety of F.A.T.A.L. is an example of bad design. Overcomplicated, bloated, and needlessly detailed... oh and it's also one of the most hatefully stupid games of all time. Hilarious to read, though!

1:1 PVP Is Superior

So, for the last month and a half I've been running a 1:1 PVP  game, also known as a Braunstein. The players are all inherently against each other, and plotting against each other, Diplomacy-style. I don't plan situations, I just take their orders, make sure they make sense, and then adjudicate how everything collides together. Then, when the play sessions come up, I just focus on shaking things up as hard as I can, forcing the players to reconsider what they're doing.

And it is objectively the most fun I have ever had running a game. Just flat out. It's not close, it's not subtle. I don't plan. I don't push. I don't even think about the future. I manage. I just sit back, people fuck around, and they find out.

I have had a more meaningful time. You've got tape, right on this blog, of some campaigns I've run that are magical. Actual magic. 

But I have not had a more fun time running a game, ever. It's awesome.

Yeah, I spend "just about" as much time adjudicating actions between sessions as I did prepping, if not more so, but it's not prep: it's play. It's not work, it's fun! I'm having a blast! I get regular installments of this completely unhinged fantasy EVENT. All for the low price of setting up the scenario and telling everyone not to play nice.

So, to recap, 1:1 PVP gets me more enjoyment for far less work, if not less time, and has pretty much redefined what I want out of a game.

So This Game Found Me At An Interesting Juncture

Two months ago? I would have eaten this game up with a freaking spoon. Immediately. 

But Father Time is fleeting and cruel.

Now, I am absolutely not in the target audience of this book, not anymore. See, you have to convince me that leaving 1:1 PVP would be just as worthwhile as running it. And that is an ask. A real ask. Because I now got a system that automatically maintains moment, right through missed sessions and weird adult life schedules and other basic problems of "stop time" in RPGs, and I am absolutely happy with it. You have to really sell me on playing this game at this point.

The sections we're covering in the book today are the Host advice, worldbuilding help, actual pitches for campaigns, and some "sketches" to help the Host riff.

The Host Advice

Oh man, Father Time is so cruel. This should have stolen my heart. And two months ago, it would have. There's a distillation of all the different kinds of horror "plots", sorta like plot infrastructure for Hosts to use, without railroading players. And this section is brilliant. If you're not running 1:1 PVP.. you need to read this section. Like, you owe Zak S for this part of the book, alone. Zak breaks down different kinds of plot structures that players can move around in so thoroughly and well that it would be stupid to not get the book.

But, given that this wasn't two months ago? But was just read a few days ago?

Yeah.

I don't particularly need it. Which is incredibly weird. It's so well-written, and I could see adapting some of it, particularly the "dungeon style" plot, but this is fantastic advice for something I don't plan on doing that much anymore. It is, without a doubt, the best guide for "stop time" TTRPGs ever written.

Not close.

Worldbuilding Help

I loved literally every sentence in this section. The book breaks down how to access archives, how Uber drivers can be useful, and how the FBI actually works in a way that I find relevant. There's not a bad word in this section, other GMing guides should be legitimately ashamed that they don't think to put stuff like this in their games, and if they do, do it better. Kthx.

Seriously. Again, this is S+ tier stuff. Literally no notes.

Campaign Pitches

How the fuck is this section even better???

So, Zak breaks down how to make distinctive campaigns, with little modifications and hacks to the system to reward certain kinds of actions. If you're playing the game, just steal these ideas, outright. But if you're not, this section is a masterclass in manipulating the system lightly to provide a compelling campaign pitch to your players. Literally it's all perfect. This one section sells me on running Demon City by itself. I cannot praise it enough. There's about a half-dozen pitches in here, and they's even a Stranger Things kinda a pitch, and it's awesome.

Sketches

So, this one's a bit of a weird section, but it's essentially a bunch of just half-baked enough ideas that you can insert into a campaign. There's tons of ideas on how to weaponize crime in the interest of horror games. This section is worth revisiting, from time to time, to have it jog your imagination. Zak S literally rewrote how I think RPG books should be written, with this one section.

So Yeah. 

Demon City is an absolute masterclass in TTRPG design. Zak S cooked here. The Host advice is the best "how to actually run horror without railroading" material I've ever read. The worldbuilding section is criminally practical. The campaign pitches are pure rocket fuel, and the sketches section single-handedly raised my standards for what an RPG book should deliver.

If you're running traditional stop-time games—especially horror, mystery, or modern-day campaigns—you should buy this book yesterday. It will make you a better GM, full stop. Even if you never run Demon City itself, the ideas here will level up whatever you're doing.

But for me? Right now? It's bittersweet.

This game found me at the exact moment I fell in love with something else. 1:1 PVP has ruined me (in the best way). It delivers consistent chaos, player-driven drama, and zero prep guilt in a way that feels almost unfair to everything else. I still love what Demon City is doing. I respect the hell out of it. Parts of it will definitely leak into my Braunsteins. But the honest truth is I'm not rushing to switch back to traditional campaign play.

Father Time is cruel like that.

This was Part 2 of my read-through, focusing on the GM-facing material. There's still at least one more part to go. If I do not see you next week, I do not blame you.

It is no easy road.