Sabina's Castle: Session Twenty

Anneli: The elven female main character, played by Andy. Anneli is a member of a group of (mostly) humans that are meant to go to the Island of Eternal Youth to make a wish. She lost her "key", a toy sword, to her traitorous sister Nomi. Anneli then teamed up with the nearby human military to go on a reconnaissance mission, only to fall afoul of a female ghost who was after one of her soldiers, Salomo.

Salt: Spar's daughter. The last time we saw her she had been saved by Anneli from certain death by the hands of the revenant Herminus.

Pyrite: A dwarf that knew Spar, now allied with Marian, Salt, and Telos.

Marian: A member of The Ones Who Sailed, a mysterious group who have made it to The Island of Eternal Youth. She had picked Anneli to be her successor by giving her the toy sword. Which she's lost. Great.


The Ghost was inside Anneli's skull, screaming for revenge against Salomo. Clutching her head, Anneli screamed at her to shut up, now. It worked. Everything was quiet again.

But they were now surrounded by fifteen orcs.

Anneli's unit began to form up into a circle, shield to shield, spears out.

And then it began.

The orcs charged and smashed against the shields and spears, trying to overwhelm Anneli and her unit. They had to dance back, out of the range of the spears. Anneli lashed out, killing a number of orcs in a few strikes. They began to inch their way over, but Anneli tripped over one of the corpses and went down, hard. Someone else began to bark out orders as she got to her feet... the wrong way. Anneli tried to show over the din of the battle, but it was too late: they had cut themselves off.  Anneli stepped out, spear a blur, and took on the rest of the orcs by herself. The soldiers got away.

And it first it seemed to be going well! Anneli killed a few more orcs, and had them down to a manageable number... until one of them stabbed her in the gut. And then another one picked her up and slammed her into a nearby wall. She fell to her knees, gasping for breath. One of the orcs grabbed her by her hair, mourning the fact that his orders prevented him from drinking her sweet elven blood from her delicate elven neck.

Anneli drew her sword and gutted him in one smooth motion.

The others closed in. She was back on her feet. Ready.

A pillar of fire descended from the heavens amidst a whirlwind. The orcs who weren't utterly consumed ran around the wreckage, screaming, before falling over in a twitching mess of flesh, burns, and swiftly fading agony. Anneli fell to her knees, begging for mercy from whomever had just unleashed Hell. Anneli was encircled by someone's arms, and she heard Marian shushing her. Rocking in Marian's arms, Anneli told her she had failed: Nomi had the toy sword. Marian assured her that wasn't important, not right now, that she was just happy she'd found Anneli again. Anneli told her she needed to go back to the human's fort, that they were going to help her get stronger. Marian promised they'd go back, but first they needed to tend to her stomach wound.

When Salt saw Anneli she slapped her. And then Salt saw her stomach wound and hugged Anneli, weeping.  They got her to Pyrite, who was able to stitch her up and disinfect the wound. They all resolved to make their way back to the human fort and figure out what they were going to do from there. Salt commented that even she was sick of the little hole they were in.

Heroes of the Grid: A Personal History

It's probably not much of a secret that I love Heroes of the Grid. I mean, y'know, all those character musings and whatnot. It's a bit of a left field thing for me, honestly, because confession time!

I am not that big of a Power Rangers fan.

I don't own any action figures (although I'm jealous of anyone who owns a dragon dagger), I'm not currently watching the show and I really have no plans to. I mean, I watch older seasons on Netflix from time to time, as a counter to the usually dark and gritty stuff that I like to consume, but it's certainly an exception to the rule of my bleak and grim tastes. In fact, I sometimes find my brain refusing to shut off and critiquing the show's philosophical underpinnings of using a grid as the basis of all life and whatnot. It strikes me as Cartesian, and thus post-Enlightenment, and thus dumb.

Yes, I did that, sober. Getting me drunk only makes me less restrained.

Yes, my Associate's Degree is focused in Philosophy. I'm that dude who can go on multiple hour rants about the philosophical underpinnings of practically anything, much to the annoyance of all around me. And Power Rangers does not walk out kindly from such rants and ravings, metaphysically speaking. Life is not cartesian-

Sorry. About started again.

So what the hell is going on? Why am I writing so much about this game?

Get in the box.

No, I'm not a Dr. Who fan. But I do think the Tardis is pretty cool.

We're going to take the time-machine, way back to 2007. I was growing more and more disillusioned with 3.5 Dungeons and Dragons. Now, if you're a 3.5 lover that's all well and good, but I think the game is hot garbage.

Yes, really.

No, I am not being all that unfair. 3.5 is objectively flawed

OK, maybe I'm being a little unfair. Doesn't change the fact that I don't like the game.

Now, before you go and start edition-warring in the comments, hear me out: there are objective cracks and flaws in 3.5 that should not be ignored. Linear fighters and quadratic wizards, the mathematical ridiculousness that is prestige classes and multiclassing, the fact that if you're wanting to actually emulate the fantasy genre then you're really in the wrong game, as DnD is its own genre, flat, and Pun-Pun the frickin' kobold. I know people still have fun with the game, and I certainly do as well, but that's not what objectivity is about. I think that word has been abused to all hell and back, into a beat stick for someone to get away with being a jerk.

Yes, I am getting to why I love Heroes of the Grid. But this stuff is important. You need to know it to get why I'm here, now, writing about this game.

Now, objective stuff is independent of one's opinions and whatnot. It's non-personal. I know many people adore 3.5. That's fine. No issue. But its objective flaws were really rubbing me the wrong way at that point, and I found that I could not love the game. And that was a shame! I'd bought a lot of books, especially the later stuff, and found there was stuff in it I still enjoyed a lot.

But man, when 4e was announced I was excited. Every last thing that I had issue with in 3.5 was getting addressed. Broken characters? Gone. Encounter design that actually made sense? (Don't pretend 3.5's does! Don't do it!) Thank God yes! A greater emphasis on party cohesion and making combat more fun? YAAAAAAS!

Notice how objective I'm being.

No, if you can't take the (double-edged) joke I don't suggest continuing to read.

I was so excited, in fact, that I began piecing together 4e from the bits of playtest and preview material that was being released and playing it, months in advance. By the time 4e debuted I had more than a good idea of how the system worked and was hardly surprised by any single piece of it. It was love at first sight. And that continued, for most of 4e's lifespan.

4e, at its best, was a rocking combat game, with tons of interlocking character and monster bits. Players had a suite of powers, class features, and feats, all of which were designed to explicitly work in the overall context of a team. Classes were grouped into roles, which were much looser than most of the naysayers wanted to admit. The monsters in the game were also put into roles, with fewer but much more memorable abilities. The encounter design system was so easy that one could throw together fights in a matter of minutes. Monsters could have their levels tweaked so easily that you didn't even have to write the changes down. And players had pretty easy markers to tell when they were in trouble, both in the short term of a combat encounter and over the long term of a session. If the DM was half-awake the players would find that their resources dwindled quickly, causing the players to have to think on their feet. Or, at least that's how it worked in my games. I was extremely good at pushing that system (and the characters within it) to its brink, without being overwhelming.

I had a good thing going. I knew the system, understood it as a child understands riding a bike, and could do pretty much anything I wanted to with the encounter system. It was the first game that I ever deeply and truly loved. And together, we were an unstoppable force. Hell, I had people coming to watch the sessions, years before streaming was ever a thing, because the campaigns I ran with 4e were that good. And dark. And intense. No really, folks came and sat down and had a running commentary on the game. It got so loud I had to start kicking people out so that way I could focus. It was grand!

Of course Andy had to ruin everything. He has a habit of doing that.

Of course Andy had to point out that 4e is a glorified combat simulator.

Of course Andy had to point out that I was trying to do complex character development with a system that didn't support it in any objective (SEE HOW THAT WORD COMES BACK TO BITE ME??) fashion.

Thank you Andy! 

Now, thanks to Andy, I GM three Burning Wheel campaigns. I would do more, but sleep. Yes, Andy, this is all your fault. As usual.

And it's awesome.

I love Burning Wheel. But it doesn't address a lot of things that I had come to love in 4e: the focus on combat, the teamwork, the interaction between roles, powers, and feats to create a very unique character, and the intricate puzzle that was combat. I've tried to go back to 4e but I always found that its flaws had become unpalatable. And that broke my heart. Over the next few years I found myself looking back, wistfully, at a game that had meant so much to me, but that I could no longer connect to.

I don't deal with loss and death very well. I'm that one dude who will sit by a dead dog that I didn't know and just sob for the poor thing. So not being able to connect back to a game that meant so much to me at one point? You know that's not going to go over well. It's a problem I'm going to keep trying to solve, probably for the rest of my life, because I am that sentimental. At times.

I did not back Heroes of the Grid on Kickstarter because I saw its similarities to 4e. I backed the game because Bargain Quest is the best game I (STILL!!!!!!) don't own. The design is infectiously joyful and hilarious. And so, when I saw that Jonathan Ying's name was plastered on the box, I backed it. Not only could I reconnect with childhood nostalgia but (and more importantly) the game design looked amazing.

And when I finally got to play it was an immediate connection. I just couldn't stop thinking about it, which is a phenomena that I find to be rare and disconcerting. It took me months to figure it out. But I started to notice things about the game, and the harder I pulled on the thread the faster down the rabbit hole I fell. At this point I'd say that if 4e was forced to take a paternity test it would be paying some hefty child support to Heroes of the Grid. The characters are definitely put into roles and have unique abilities that have to be understood by the whole group in order to be used well. The monsters are unique yet not obtuse. The game centers around a moving, interlocking puzzle, that requires all of the player's mental, emotional, and social faculties to overcome. Heroes of the Grid took all the things that were best about 4e, and got rid of the long and plodding combats, skill challenges, and all the rest of the stuff that just plain old didn't work with 4e, improved the good stuff, and used it to become its own game.

Heroes of the Grid is not a direct translation of 4e, but it preserved and passed on the spirit of 4e at its best. The camaraderie, the incredible rush of pulling off a combo with your fellow players, the slow grinding into nothing that 4e was so good at, and the feelings of empowerment and urgency were all translated over. And, after all these years, I found that I could move on, which is something normally accomplished by applying a crowbar to my backside. So this a welcome change! And, as it turns out, I have a lot to say about this new thing that I found, honed from years of experience with a fantastic game that doesn't deserve the bad rap that it got.

And so here we are.

Onward.

The Undertow: Session Two

When the morning came Mikansia and Jabez dressed up in their best formal uniforms and walked the mile to their headquarters. Entering the building they headed for the back, which is where the Captain's Office was. Most of the soldiers were in their usual informal clothes, and so they stuck out like sore thumbs. Captain Akseli and Firstsword Yngvar were also in formal attire, along with another soldier, who was there to record the proceedings.

Formal introductions were made. Captain Akseli explained that Mikansia was being charged with lying to an officer in matters that concerned unit safety. As her formal council Jabez asked to confer with Mikansia a moment; the motion was granted. Jabez Mikansia to plead guilty, under extenuating circumstances. When she did so Captain Akseli asked her to clarify. Mikansia told him that Krakeru had destroyed her family, being responsible for her mother traveling into the void. This incident was part of what caused her to join the Sword Singers in the first place, so that way nothing like that would ever happen to someone else, ever again. She hadn't meant to lie, but she was overwhelmed by hearing Krakeru's name and had no idea what to actually say. She apologized profusely, and promised it wouldn't happen again. Jabez stood up and related how distraught Mikansia still had been last night, and that she only needed some help in unpacking such a surprise. She was still very dedicated to the unit and punishment was not something that Jabez could recommend, not for such a momentary lapse of judgment.

Captain Akseli and Firsword Yngvar told the recorder, Mikansia, and Jabez to recess, while they conferred. That was disconcerting for Mikansia, but Jabez joked that Captain Akseli just didn't want it going down on the record the nice thing said about a Singer. The recorder didn't talk to them at all, still bitter about having to show up at all, particularly in uniform.

They were called back in. Captain Akseli told them that all charges would be dropped, but that Makinsia would need to talk with him more to make sure they could assign her to the proper place in the unit.  She agreed. Everyone was dismissed. Mikansia thanked Jabez for helping her. Smiling, he told her it was truly his pleasure to do so. 

The entire unit began to prep for rapid deployment to Elfharrow. Spirits were high. And then the rumors started. A new series of orders were said to have been passed down. New sightings of The Nameless on one of The Thousand Isles, and everyone was passing the rumor around like wildfire. Another day of prep passed, with no official news. That night, the same creature from before showed up in Mikansia's dreams, showing her the release letter, as well as Jabez's sword.  The next day Captain Akseli gathered the unit together and conformed that their orders had indeed changed: they were going to rapidly deploy to fight The Nameless! The whole unit rejoiced. Now that was real combat!

Mikansia tried to rejoice too; she couldn't. She continued to pack and get ready, but her heart really wasn't into it. This was the first time she had heard Krakeru's name in seventy-five years! When would she hear it again?

Mikansia and Jabez bumped into each other that night, at the guard fire: neither could sleep. Jabez asked Mikansia if she would take a walk with him. They wandered out the gates of their base. The wind was howling, but neither one minded it that much.

They got to the edge of the island and looked down. Below them the planet was dark, awaiting the sun. The stars shown in the black. The wind screeched like a beast. Somewhere below them a light winked in and out of existence. Jabez became anxious. Mikansia asked him what was wrong. Jabez smiled.  Mikansia took his hand. He asked her if she knew the primary duty of an officer. She nodded, mission first! Jabez swallowed, and said he couldn't stop thinking about how Krakeru had ruined her life and where her duties should lie: the unit or her shattered family.  He asked if she was actually going to deploy with the unit.

Mikansia tried to answer, but found that she couldn't. Jabez wasn't surprised. He took of his cloak of office and sword. Mikansia was puzzled

Jabez tried to push Mikansia off the island.

Mikansia jumped to the side and drew her sword. Jabez recovered and sat down. Confused, Mikansia asked what the hell was going on. Jabez replied that he was trying to help her. She couldn't outright break her oath, yet she couldn't not avenge her family. So Jabez had taken off his regalia. And there may or may not be a ship, floating below them, but not for very much longer. 

Mikansia nodded, and said she was -

Rocketing like a stone.

Whistling air. 

WHUMP

Mikansia spent the next few minutes gasping for breath. There was laughter all around her. Human laughter. Off to Elfharrow they would go, came the cry! They flew to the surface, in a (stolen??) elven ship, signing bawdy songs about how much better human men were in bed than the elven ones (HEAVE! HO!)

And throughout it all Jabez continued in his vigil, staring at them until he could see no more, cape clutched in his warm fists.

The howling of the wind seemed all the louder.

May the Power Protect You: Tommy Oliver (MMPR Green, Gift of the Dragon)

Caveat: I playtested a prototype version of Gift of the Dragon. Kind regards and thanks to Jonathan Ying and the rest of Renegade for letting me playtest!

I'm not going to lie, the instant I saw what Gift of the Dragon did I was concerned. Tommy's deck was built around Loner, how the heck would it work with something else? As you're about to see, I view the interaction between character ability and deck as incredibly important. The deck is the raw material that the character ability works upon. But Tommy was different, at least in my mind; the two elements were fused. His deck was built to rely upon Loner. Tommy was the only character who could not be torn apart. Right?

One of these days I will compile all the dumb things I've said about this game. It would fill a book.

Repeat it with me, children:

ARM CHAIR GAME CRITIQUE IS WORTHLESS

 

Very good! Again!

ARM CHAIR GAME CRITIQUE IS WORTHLESS

 

For those of you still confused: critiquing a game you have not played enough to understand is absolutely (defined here in an ironclad sense) stupid. Critiquing an element of a game you have not personally played is not quite as dumb, but it's still pretty bad. Telling the designer that you doubt the design based off of arm chair thoughts you had on the toilet because you were bored is about as bad as it gets. I do not brook exceptions to that rule. You may say that you do not care to try a game, or that the point of a game is offensive, or whatever, but if you have not played the game leave the design the hell alone.

Oh, if only we lived up to our own ideals! What a world it would be!

So, stupidly doubtful, I sat down and saw how he played. And, just like I usually am when poking at this game's mechanics, I was surprised at how well he played.

Gift of the Dragon is the subtlest character ability to date. You cannot understand at it on a random glance and see its true worth. Nor can you see it within a round of play. It has to play out, over the long term. You have to see what loaning a card to another person can actually do, over the course of at least a game, to see the moments that it enables, the likes of which you can get from literally no other ability in the game. The thing is that, unless you get  knocked out, the person you loaned that card to gets to keep it. So you can loan multiple cards, over the course of a game, as is necessary, and they stay around. Now, you may say "Why the hell would I want to do that?" Never, ever, underestimate constant effects in this game, since very little in this game stays that way. I can't even begin to go through all the permutations that could happen. What I am going to recommend are the two cards you should always give, without hesitation.

The most obvious card to give is Dragon Shield. I mean, why wouldn't you? Dragon Shield may cost an energy, but it boosts the offensive capability of the person who uses it. Giving it to a character who has enormous damaging boosting capabilities just makes them that much better. And, since you're not really not the damage dealing machine in this form, it doesn't make much sense for you to keep it. 

The other thing you need to give up pretty quickly is Dragon Rush, particularly to characters like Aisha (MMPR Yellow) or Rocky (Zeo Blue), who benefit from KOs. Yeah, I know, it means swallowing your pride, but there are other characters who can just flat out use that card better. And it's your job to give those characters the incredible power of that card, which lets those other characters become sweeper-lite. It will be very rare that you actually use any of your big moves while you're using Gift of the Dragon, because of the wonderful combos that can come up with other characters using those moves. Get used to it.

There are plenty of other ways to use Gift of the Dragon, but it's going to be hard to predict those permutations. Experiment, find out what works for you!

So what are you going to do while everyone's using your cards? Plug in the gaps. Solo Strike in particular will help you clean up cards that are not worth your team's time to kill, cards with 1 HP and the like. Dragon Rush can be used to much the same effect. You're not going out to be a rock star if you're playing Gift of the Dragon, so don't go and try be flashy. Without the power from Loner you just don't have that ability anymore, so hang back, let everyone get their stuff out, and be patient. Your time will come.

Gift of the Dragon Green Ranger is incredible, but it takes a lot of skill to use correctly. Don't expect to be the big MVP of the night, the guy who lands the clutch hit. You are that person's best friend. Help is your middle name. Every team has gaps, points where they just inevitably run out of cards, don't have enough life, or just flat out can't make the play. Your attack options don't run out. You are that last line of defense. Be the team's rock.

How to GM: How I Come Up With Campaign Ideas

I have been told that I come up with very intense campaigns. It's usually meant as a compliment, which I'm happy to accept, as well as a criticism, which I'm just as happy to listen to. Some people have asked how GMs come up with their concepts. I've always struggled to come up with an answer to this, mostly because to me it's a very intuitive, very personal, sometimes horrific picture. I assume that people do not want to use the method that I keep stumbling across, no matter how hard I try to run from it, but sometimes people get desperate. They want an idea to grab the group they GM for, they want something more than what they've been doing. And what I do definitely produces that. It produces a lot of other things as well and is definitely not perfect, but what works is better than what is just in your head, gathering dust. The process is as follows: I found out what my favorite stories are and why, what those stories made me feel, and then the thoughts behind those feelings. Taking those concepts, which are at the core of who I am as a person, I then use these concepts as themes in all my games.

Um, yeah. That probably sounds weird, if not convoluted. Let me explain.


I have always gravitated towards stories where victory comes at a price. If my protagonists do not walk out looking or feeling like poor Mal over on the right, I'm generally not very satisfied with said story. If Frodo didn't go West I would not have liked it as much as I do. Severian wipes out almost all life in order to save his planet. Cost cost cost! The Reavers almost killing the Serenity crew was one of my favorite scenes from that whole series! Just the sheer intensity of these types of stories is an amazing experience.

Oh, for the record, these are some of my favorite movies, in no particular order:

- Serenity
- Ostrov
- Schindler's List
- The Big Short
- The Last Jedi
- Brick
- Pacific Rim
- The Amazing Spider-Man 2
- Chronicle

Eh, why not put some books too?

- Ocean at the End of the Lane
- Stardust
- The Graveyard Book
- Lord of the Rings
- Children of Hurin
- The Book of the New Sun/ Urth of the New Sun
- The Farthest Shore
- The Tombs of Atuan
- The Last Battle
- The Great Divorce

So, after that, I ask how those stories make me feel? Well, the common thread that I keep running into is exertion. These stories are intense. They deal with intense problems, require solutions that may or may not kill the person who's attempting to fix them, and rarely come out clean. Morality is grey; there are no good people, no bad people, just people trying to make the best decisions they can. Even if there is a transcendence in these stories it's harder to find, often requiring the characters to make decisions without the benefit of an intact inner compass. They do what they can, and pray it works. It often doesn't. But on the other hand there's a beauty that goes through these stories of pain, supporting and holding these characters through their trials. This interaction of pain and divinity creates moments of pathos and beauty.

All feelings have thoughts behind them. So these feelings of pain and divinity have some basic idea behind them, that holds them up and allows them to continue. So, after thinking about those for a while, I came to the conclusion that the two thoughts running through these stories is "This world is doomed. There is no saving it." and "This world was never the point. Let go of it." I find that, no matter where I turn, these are the two thoughts that drive who I am, as a person, and that they always have been. And so therefore these are the things that I explore in all my campaigns: the inevitability of one's world (interior and exterior) collapsing, and how there is so much more than what we thought we had.

I then take every single plot or concern of my players and wrap that thought in, somehow. This usually means that players will come to me with a pitch  these days. I'll ask them what they want, I'll give some feedback, and then I'll take over from there. I take their ideas, and run them through the above process, until I get something that I would like to run. I then ask them about it, and we then discuss what we want the campaign to be about. And then we just keep playing it out. There's not much of a plan beyond the guiding principles of contrasting misery and divinity. Sometimes I have some overarching ideas about how to implement that, but so long as I keep my themes in mind I can address pretty much anything on the fly.

There are notable exceptions to this, of course. The Giggling Dark was an idea that I had, that I couldn't not run, and so I took it to Ryan, cause I figured he would want to play it. He did, and his feedback turned the campaign into something far greater than I ever could have imagined alone. But exceptions prove rules and all that.

So, by way of example, when Bryna and I decided to do a Burning Wheel game, I had a few ideas for what I wanted to do, but I only gave broad setting strokes. Bryna responded back with the specific stuff she wanted to investigate within that framework, which was being the daughter of a rape victim. Given my history with the subject I had some questions, and together we hammered out exactly what that would look like. There was a lot of back and forth at this stage, as we decided on ground rules for what is an admittedly pitch-black concept.

So, what I do is figure out what the core of my interests are, theme-wise, I then get some basic ideas (either from myself or others) of a campaign, run them through those themes, and then begin to collaborate like crazy with the player(s), sketching out what they want to get out of the campaign. And, of course, we then decide upon how long the bloody thing is going to run for. All of this is something that takes place pretty naturally. Now, obviously not everyone does anything even close to this. But it is what works for me. And it may work for you, dear reader.

Being Reclaimed by Mythology

I've got a bit of a confession to make: I've not read much mythology lately. I know, I know, I went on an 8 month rant about the benefits of mythology and how Star Wars was a modern mythological marvel, The Last Jedi especially. Yeah, kinda hypocritical of me. Yup. I mean, don't get me wrong, I've been doing as close to daily as possible my Scripture readings, which is an extremely similar process if you take into account St. Maximos' teachings on how Scripture is meant as a decoder for your life, but classical mythology? Nah, I've not. I got really burned out doing the Star Wars posts, and frankly every time I tried to put myself back into "The Story" I'd just be overwhelmed by my own darkness. But something happened that changed that.

A few months of EMDR therapy later (which is essentially becoming a part of the story you didn't want to acknowledge) and I found myself in a bookstore with my family. We were having a great time; the kids had been at the train table for a long time, the in-laws were happily browsing, and my wife had her hot chocolate. But we were getting hungry and needed to go home for food. Life was good.

I became conscious of an interior call, of some sort. I ignored it, at least at first. I mean, we were wrapping up to go, why now? But the pull persisted. It got so bad that I finally decided to heed... whatever the hell it was. Finally I decided to follow it. The call that came from my soul pulled me into the classics section. And from there to the mythology. And from there to Homer. And from Homer to the Iliad. I'd been down this road many times before, reading the first page and then putting the book down. Rolling my eyes, I picked it up, and opened it to the following words (more or less, as I was reading a different translation):

Sing, O goddess, the anger of Achilles son of Peleus, that brought countless ills upon the Achaeans. Many a brave soul did it send hurrying down to Hades, and many a hero did it yield a prey to dogs and vultures, for so were the counsels of Jove fulfilled from the day on which the son of Atreus, king of men, and great Achilles, first fell out with one another.

And which of the gods was it that set them on to quarrel? It was the son of Jove and Leto; for he was angry with the king and sent a pestilence upon the host to plague the people, because the son of Atreus had dishonoured Chryses his priest. Now Chryses had come to the ships of the Achaeans to free his daughter, and had brought with him a great ransom: moreover he bore in his hand the sceptre of Apollo wreathed with a suppliant's wreath and he besought the Achaeans, but most of all the two sons of Atreus, who were their chiefs.

"Sons of Atreus," he cried, "and all other Achaeans, may the gods who dwell in Olympus grant you to sack the city of Priam, and to reach your homes in safety; but free my daughter, and accept a ransom for her, in reverence to Apollo, son of Jove."

On this the rest of the Achaeans with one voice were for respecting the priest and taking the ransom that he offered; but not so Agamemnon, who spoke fiercely to him and sent him roughly away. "Old man," said he, "let me not find you tarrying about our ships, nor yet coming hereafter. Your sceptre of the god and your wreath shall profit you nothing. I will not free her. She shall grow old in my house at Argos far from her own home, busying herself with her loom and visiting my couch; so go, and do not provoke me or it shall be the worse for you."

 As I read this passage, which I've read over, and over, and over again, that call became a pit. The myth called upon my rage. It was a terrible thing to be asked for; it was decades old, and slowly fading as its underlying causes were being integrated. But here was the myth, asking for my rage, so that way I could do more than understand Achilles, so that way I could be Achilles. I did not fully understand what it was that I was doing, but I needed to do it. And, right there with my family minding their own business, I became Achilles.

Now, let me explain by what I mean by that. Cause that sounds crazy.

I don't mean that I had a hallucination. I was in a bookstore, the whole time. I could see that I was in a bookstore. I could hear everybody around me and was able to respond to them, albeit it took some concentration from me to respond. I just... inside of me something else was happening, and I felt that something distinctly different but just as important (if not more!) was going on, and it so happened that I felt like a completely different person, seeing the world as they did, feeling as they did, wanting what they wanted.

But I wouldn't say that I wasn't affected by what was going on, out in the physical world. My knees buckled, locked, and stayed that way. I swayed, however slightly. My family didn't notice. But I was no longer there. I was Achilles, killing and yelling. I had purpose. My anger drove me. But it was directed. It was not rage. I knew what I was. The anger had context. It meant something. And I wanted to stay there, I wanted to stay where my anger made sense. I wanted to stay Achilles.

I'm not sure when I stopped being Achilles, but at some point I returned. I know I wanted to go back, or better, bring that back to this world. But in order to do that I have to allow my anger and pain to make sense. Mythology may be practice to do that. It may be more than that. I don't know yet. But there's only one way to find out.

What I'm Thankful For

I suppose by writing this post I am making a statement of some sort about what I think of Thanksgiving. There's been a lot of nonsense being tossed around about Thanksgiving being a day of genocide and the usual hand-wringing nonsense of how evil our country is.  

Sit down, you amateurs, I'm a monarchist, I think the whole system is bad.

But that's not going to stop me from realizing that there are days when you actually do need to focus on how grateful you are for your life, and that it needs to be a cultural event. I prefer the original point of Thanksgiving, that of Abraham Lincoln instituting it during the Civil War, one of our nation's lowest points. In darkness praise and thankfulness dawned. That's an amazing thing! And yeah, we should keep doing it! The Pilgrim thing can come or go, I don't really care, but given how toxic the modern discourse is does it really hurt to have a cultural day of thanksgiving and positivity?

If you answered "yes, it really does hurt" then kindly go jump off a cliff. Or at least stop reading. Just go away. Bye!

For the rest of you who aren't currently looking for a cliff to go jump off of, thanks for getting through that preamble! Let's get on with it!

First off, I'm thankful to God. I'm thankful that I continue to breathe, nevermind exist, and that He has given me exactly what I need, when I need it, even when I'm not aware that I do. I am grateful for all the things that He has given me that I like and, most especially, the things that I can barely stand.

I am thankful for the PTSD. It is helping me grow. I am becoming so much more than I ever would have without it.

I am thankful for being such a flawed and (sometimes) awful person, because it means I have to cut others slack, because slack has been cut for me.

I am thankful for being so bloody tired, because it means that my children are growing and changing and I get to be there and experience it with them, at every juncture.

Also first off, I am so grateful for that angel who continues to love me, also known as my wife.  Thank you for existing, because it would impossible for me to think of a world that is good without you being in it. Thank you for being so kind and considerate of others, because I wouldn't have learned to give a rat's ass without your continuing reminders that I should. Thank you for your support, in everything, because without it I'd have floundered in mediocrity and evil a long time ago. Thank you for not putting up with my (continuous) crap, but doing so in a gentle and loving manner. Thank you for being such a wonderful mother to our kids. The beauty that shines out of them is because of you, by and large. You have shown them how to be luminous boys, and I am so grateful that I get to come home and admire what you have done for them by just being in close proximity to them.

I am so thankful for my for my firstborn son. He continues to show me that it's OK to be emotional and intense and to not be apologetic for it. There are moments when that little guy smiles and I need to go get sunglasses, because so much light comes out. Thank you for loving Calvin and Hobbes and lightsabers and Spider-Man and Thomas and all these other things that I love, but with a simplicity and passion that have always disarmed me and my cynicism. Half the time I'm not sure who's teaching who how to be a good person. The rest of the time I know it's you teaching me. Thank you for putting up with my grumpy self and just plodding right through whatever grouchiness I have on a particular day, for trusting that there is someone good under all that flotsam and jetsam. Thank you for loving your mother so fiercely, and for protecting your little brother to the fullest extent of your ability. You are one of the strongest people I know, little guy. I'm proud of you.

I am thankful for my second son. You are the only dude I know who was born with Polish Grandmother genes, and it's an amazing sight. You always make sure we're all together, warm, and well-fed, and that's quite an inspiration. Thank you for your little temper, cause it's adorable! I mean, I doubt you see it that way, but I sure do. Thank you for being so tough and durable in loving your brother, because you're both so small yet and so much that you'd like to say to each other can't be, not yet. Thank you for your little entourage of stuffed animals, of which at least one (usually Pooh) must be present at all times. And definitely thank you for stuffing all your food in my mouth, even if it was in your mouth first. No, I'll never let that be forgotten.

I am thankful for the rest of my family. You've all been so supportive, honest, and vulnerable, and I cannot begin to say how blessed I am for it. Thank you for being willing to work through all the crap that normally destroys families, and for being a large part of why it didn't destroy us. Most people I know roll their eyes at least once when they mention their family. I'm not one of those folks, and I'm so grateful for that.

I am grateful for Andy, who should honestly be credited as editor of this blog. I probably should do that more often. You've read most of the crap that winds up on here, and given feedback that is invaluable. Thank you for being honest, even if it means crushing some ideas mid-sentence, and for keeping this grumpy hermit of the wider trends of gaming, even when I really don't want to know. You keep me honest and good on this blog, and in general.

Thank you to whoever reads this bloody blog. Y'all know who you are. Thanks for sticking around. I hope I keep going. Don't let me stop.

Thank you to Luke Crane and Jonathan Ying, who have made my favorite games. Games are important, and y'all's games are particularly important to me.

I could go on.

And on.

And on.

And on.

There is so much to be thankful for, so much so that one can honestly spend the rest of one's life doing it.

I should try it.

Join me?