kingtycoon: (Default)
... Besides a little older.  There are a lot of birthdays in the old household this month - and so a little less time was devoted to this than maybe would have been best. And yet!  Look at the abundance, the multitudes-  consider - every item a story - every character who has one?  A Legend.


Rolled Up - Ready Pocket-Size Pinstripe Murdering Cause

Thought Up - Unhesitating Revenge on the Little Mobster - Everyone needs a cause, something to believe in.  One of yours is revenge - revenge against that little murdering bastard that stole so many of your loved ones from you.  You're ready, eager even, to plunge a dagger or ten into the short, foppish degenerate - whenever you see him.

Does What? Maneuver - Whenever you are facing the little gangster or his crew you get +10 to your initiative score.


Rolled Up - Broad Bark Helmet

Thought Up - Cap of the Woods  - Fashioned of birchbark & oak leaves this helmet helps you remain hidden in the deep woos & its broad brim protects your eyes from sudden glares caused by gaps in the canopy.

Does What? Suggested Maneuver - When you have the Cap & are in the woods you can reduce your Search Die by 2 steps.


Rolled Up - Despicable Ancient Granite Raft

Thought Up - The Massacre Plinth - Why you have this and what it could be used for remains to be seen, but you have a granite plinth that has been carved in an ancient age to resemble a raft.  The plinth was used in genocides of old.  The brutal antagonists would lash their adversaries to the raft and then laugh hideously as they 'set sail'.  Plinths like these sometimes show up on the shore - when the tide goes out - and here and there curious parties have gathered these implements of genocide as macabre mementos.

Does What? Suggested Maneuver - Sled the Stone Raft - Using the raft as a toboggan you can steer it into an adversary running over them with terrific force.


Rolled Up - Surreal Avant-Garde Lace Light Scavenged Screaming Costume

Thought Up - Nonsense Gown - You fashioned this dress out of scavenged bits of mismatched lace.  Its many mismatched patterns is difficult for people to look at, but it's impossible for them to look away.  The dress is a mishmash of frayed lace & none-too-subtle voids & gaps.  Naturally this dress, your dress, is best used for your ritualistic screaming fugues.

Suggested Maneuver - Dress Scream -  You're empowered when wearing your dress so that you shout with terrific force & terrible pitch.  Your screams shake the nerve of those who fail a save vs. devices - they take an amount of damage.


Rolled Up - Pitiful Behemoth Silvery Pouch

Thought Up - Tatty Whale-Coinpurse - This is a purse for carrying coins that's fashioned from the skin & hair of a cetacean.  The purse has seen better days, it's worn & greasy to the point of having a silvery sheen.

Suggested Maneuver - Spare Change - Shake the pure & turn it inside & out and you'll sometimes shake out one last coin that you'd misplaced.

Rolled Up - Tame Large Homemade Corrugated Resisting Tomato

Thought Up - Shaming Bomb - Toiling at home you've come up with the perfect fruit - the perfect fruit for pelting politicians & celebrities.  It's corrugations allow it to be thrown with terrific accuracy, it has a heavy, steady mass to it and it contains within it an abundance of juices & seeds which burst upon the target, soaking & sliming them at once.  This tomato specimen rots quickly and yet stays firm enough to be thrown - so it's not great for eating but for its principle use it is sublime.

Suggested Maneuver - Shaming Pelt - You fling your tomato(s) at someone who is using their social dice.  If you hit their dice are both reduced by 2 die tiers.


Rolled Up - Durable Grooved Bronze Homemade Dooming Sloth

Thought Up - Dooming Sloth - In the fashion of the augers who track the motion of birds, your people have watched the slow motion of sloths to anticipate what is to come.  Now, traveling is traveling and carrying with you a few sloths for their facility at anticipating the future is just outside of reason.  Instead you have your own personal bronze-sloth - something like the antikythera mechanism - but shaped like a corrugated sloth.  Naturally it portends the end of the world based upon the mechanical sloth's expectations regarding the eventualities of multiple comet strikes, fateful eclipses & planetary alignments.  To say nothing of the retreat of the ice & the advance of the barbarous steppes folk.

Does What? Suggested Maneuver - You can store an anticipation in your bronze sloth.  So long as it's in your possession and you've had time to study it you can use your anticipation to re-roll a saving throw once per day.


Rolled Up - Broken Fantastic Dentifrice

Thought Up - Faded Tooth Powder - This medicinal aid is a powder that when applied to the teeth would repair damage & improve the sparkle of one's mouth-stones.  It got wet though, ruined, but just a little.  The powder still will repair one's teeth but they all turn fantastic shades of varried colors.

Does What? Suggested Use - This is a healing item - so it can be applied to grant healing to a subject.  It should offer benefits & assistance when it's used to repair bones or teeth - increasing the healing granted by 2 die steps.


Rolled Up - Absolute Grand Scalp

Thought Up - Magnificent Coiffure - You've got the grandly flowing & supremely beautiful hair of a living god.  It cascades over your head & face in tremendous, thick waves.  It is the envy of everyone.

Suggested Maneuver - Flashing Headbob - you can toss your glossy hair in a provocative motion that distracts your opponents.  You can use this move to increase your Initiative by a die step.


Rolled Up - Quintessential Outsized Timeless Murky Berry Bird

Thought Up - A Four Winged Hoatzin - An Ur-Bird, one of the most ancient of the aves - your Hoatzin has a peculiar reptilian digestion, four wings, clumsy flight & a bad smell.  It ferments berries in its gut and exudes a rotten odor.  It is large & flies proficiently but is clumsy and resembles the movements of a bumblebee more than an eagle.  Your Hoatzin is one of an exemplary type-  bred for show & contest it is a champion in this rarefied field.

Suggested Maneuver - Noxious Belching Bird - Your hoatzin is trained enough to obey complex commands & it can belch out the murk of its guts creating a sickening smell that can affect a group of people.


Rolled Up - Timeless Ringed Quill Lyre

Thought Up - Old Melody Maker - The composer's lute has been around a long, long time and it hasn't been the possession, in that time, of just one person - rather The Composer is a title, granted and passed on to those in the court who compose the court's music.  The lyre itself has a stout body to it, which braced against the hip whilst playing allows The Composer to make notes & write music (using the cleverly attached inkwell & quill) whilst playing.  The instrument itself is plucked with five metal & horn rings which also fit into compartments on the body of the lyre.

Suggested Maneuver - Write the Major Theme - You compose a song during a fight or encounter based upon the actions of your cohort.  Thereafter, if you play this composed theme while they perform the same actions (more or less), they all get a bonus - usually to AC, Initiative or To-Hit.


Rolled Up - Mighty Overweight  Cubic  Cellulose Brooch

Thought Up - The Mighty Die - a heavy six-sided die made of alchemically prepared tree pulp.  It is transparent & can be worn as a brooch - though it is quite dense & heavy.  When rolled it produces only the best result - always a '6'.  The weight & heft rule it be so and so it is an unfair, but powerful die.

Suggested Maneuver - Boxcar to the Face - The innocuous die is much heavier than it looks - when you pelt someone with it it strikes for d8 damage & you double your To-Hit bonus against those who've never seen the die thus used.


Rolled Up - Zinc Manacles    

Thought Up - Crackling Cuffs - These manacles are not particularly strong, in fact they're slightly brittle - but they do have a couple of advantages over simple iron manacles.  First-  they stain the wrists and ankles of those they've been fixed to.  Second - they emit a rustling 'cry' when they are bent or disturbed-  this is loud enough to alert you to them being tampered with in your presence.

Suggested Maneuver - Cuff 'Em - When an enemy makes a melee attack against you, the to-hit roll of which does not excede your Armor Class - you can attempt a counterattack using these manacles.  You make an attack against the attacker & if you succeed, one of their extremities is bound securely in the manacle.


Rolled Up - Comical Petite Sapphire Bayonet

Thought Up - Sucker's Sword Charm - You've a little charm, sapphire, gaudy.  It hangs on a chain & you're meant to hang it from the handle of your own weapon, you've been told it brings luck, more importantly, you've been advised that ignoring it or abandoning it will bring certain death.  So you have this little charm that you can keep on your sword and everyone will know why and They Will All Laugh At You.

Suggested Maneuver - Dazzling Daze - When the sun is high in the sky you can whip your sword about flashing the charm in an almost hypnotic motion.  Those who see it must save vs. Devices or lose their next turn.


Rolled Up - Nice Full-Size Spying Lemur  

Thought Up - Your Friend Joey - It's Joey The Lemur, the friend to mankind.  A furry sort of monkey friend, he really does shine!  Your lemur is nice.  Your lemur is a clever spy as well.  It sneaks & creeps & returns.  It can't talk, poor thing, but it can draw in the dust & sand just fine, and in this respect it's handy to have because it gathers scouting information for you, secretive like.

Suggested Maneuver - Clever Rescuer - You've trained your lemur to save you from some types of danger - whenever you're tied up or trapped in some way Joey can help you escape.  It takes him d4 rounds to do so.


Rolled Up - Recreational Considerable   Cotton Cloak

Thought Up - Hopscotch Mantle - You wrap yourself doubly or triply in this big cotton cloak.  It's thin enough that that isn't encumbering, and its thin enough that you need to wrap it that way to get warmth out of it.  Of course it has other uses - and they're all detailed on the embroidered & printed patterns that lie upon its surface.  There are a variety of games & simple pastimes that the cloak can be used to help you play - it's a sporting garment for the garden set.

Suggested Maneuver - Preparatory Exercise - Using the cloak as an exercise guide has a beneficial quality for you and your aides who all improve their initiative die by one step on the next conflict they face, as the exercises give them the dash & pep they need to win.

Each of these was made with love using the indispensable Book of Ten Trillion Things

kingtycoon: (Default)
Today and until next wednesday here's the special thing that's happened - youngster Agatha will be 14 and I'll be 41.  I was curious about any special notes or developments from the year 1441 and of course it's just one of those archetypal early-modern years where some unremembered war had some unremembered breakthrough in the Low Countries.

I decided not to have my march party.  The one I threw/throw for people in celebration of my and my daughter & my mother & my aunt & my cousin & my sister-in-law & my other cousin & two other cousins & one great-aunt's birthdays.

This is a thing I've done for years now - since I was 35 - so... Yeah a long time now.  I'm not doing it this year.  There's republicans in my family & I'm not gonna throw any of them a party.  That's all there is I got to say about it now.

I'm really thinking of taking young A to a beach on a plane for a long weekend - do that instead of the family party.  She's never gone on a plane and I feel badly about that.  Never seen the ocean - and I feel badly about that.

So I'll see if I can solve something thataways anyhow.

So that's what's up.

Oh - and next week I turn 42.  Send presents.
kingtycoon: (Default)
Blue Horse Whisper - Precision horsemanship isn't everyone's idea of a good time, dressage or steeplechase are some people's great enthusiasms.  Blue Horse Whisper is something created for those enthusiasts by the people who are purely interested in horses themselves.  The riding tonic, when applied, dyes the horse's ears blue - but it makes them  much more amenable to being guided precisely by those who whisper in their ears.

A Final Offer - You've been asked, again and again to join the Old Firm, to follow in the diabolical footsteps that have led your kin all alike to hell.  You can always just succumb, give up your soul & all common decency to get that perfect, immaculate, glorious gift - the one tainted with the vileness of hell.  You've got this in your back pocket, a bargain with devils that the devils just can't wait to close.
Umber Helm - Made of blackened obsidian & darkened night this helmet - fashioned in an antique style with cheek & nose-guards & stylized eye-hles - plumed fetchingly with a spray of crow feathers  - the Umber Helm is all but invisible in the dark - leaving only the faint impression of your ferocious disembodied eyes.
Marble Powder     Manufactured Dust - A pouch of dust - each grain carefully ground to a sphere.  The powder is as useful as any powder - though it flows more easily and often acts like a liquid.

Five Eyes of the Ceolocanth - These eye patches were worn by the marines of the ship Ceolocanth in order to train themselves to be able to see in the dark and over cannon flare.  The eye patches are made of wax & fit to anyone's eye socket snugly and are easily peeled off.  Some say that people can train one of their eyes to be good at seeing in light and the other to be good at seeing in dark using these.

Fists of the Desert Halflings - Tiny and aged, these corroded bronze gauntlets are made to resemble the desert oryx, a favored mount & work animal of the desert halflins.  The durable fists are identical gauntlets with parallel horns for more violent punching.  They're too small for anyone but a child or halfling to use.

The Gallant Red Breastplate - A fabulous, vibrant garment -the Gallant Red Breastplate is a comfortable & clean shirt of a obsolete style which has a red-metal convexity to cover the vitals.  It stays nicely pressed and clean - though also out of fashion even while providing protection.  A mechanism within the garment is what's used to cinch & open it.
Redblue Venom Plaster - A thin layer of this plaster is all that's needed, indeed any more would be possibly fatal. This is a medicine which, when applied gently as a plaster dries up as it poison's the patient, lightly.  The poisoning is benign however as it is effectatious at leaving the patient alive whilst killing off pernicious diseases.

Tasteless Lap Armor - Of the 9th tier of quality, and somewhat shabby even for that, this solid armor skirt is intended to protect the goin and thighs -but its design, possibly comical to exceptionally lowbrow audiences - incorporates an exaggerated, sharply pointed penis into the form.

Vanity Helmet - It's your helmet, and everyone knows it, because it is emblazoned with your crest & name, the mask that protects your face is a very flattering depiction of you.  Overall this sturdy helmet conveys an abiding etotism.

Megatherium Mantle - In the misty dawn of time just at the edge of history a megatherium - enormous & deadly was hunted and killed.  Its pelt is now a cape, the arms & limbs worn wrapped around your body many times, the hood comprised of the beast's massive head - this pelt, when worn, feels lke a warm  long embrace.

Skill Oil - The oily distillation of the brains of executed thieves, this therapuetic oil can be applied to one's hands & feet, granting memory & facility sufficient to engage in the arts of subterfuge more capably.

Fiftieth Claw of the Dream Eagle - The dream eagle - a creature of popular fable & myth in the distant west is a creature purported to have 100 wings and 50 talons.  Each of its talons is said to stroke the earth, ceating one particular part of existence - such as mountains or rivers.  The fiftieth claw bestows death and in this mythology the 50th claw is an idealized weapon - a rake-like spear of polished alabastar headed with a bladed claw.  Difficult to keep sharp, yours is dull but yet effective.

Singular Dugong - Not like the others, your dugong's tusks are long and it's quite strong besides.  Big & aggressive, your dugong loves to bite.

Longarm Spaulders - Made for someone perhaps taller than yourself, these cross-strapped shoulder pads are unused and in their original condition.  Nevermind that their original condition includes carved depictions of some kind of profane sexual rite.

The Shield of Fickle Fate - Strangely significant in your homeland, this wooden shield fitted with steel and bossed with lurid - unseemly images of a grotesque witch's sabbath was once the determiner in a major religious court.  Deemed offensive & heretical but not actually forbidden, the shield opened up the rules of the religious state allowing witchcraft to be openly practiced.  For reasons, it's in your posession now.
kingtycoon: (Default)
Average Despotic Helping Javelin Casting-Spears of the Conqueror were manufactured for seven decades at the slave-factories of the Coal-Fed-Undercroft. These were the symbols of the despot’s rise, the emblem of their reign & the signal to their foes. Despite the 70 years’ of war the despot never did conquer the land and died ignominiously in a pit. The javelins are still prevalent – a peculiar surplus of a bygone war.

Worldly Endeavoring Innovative Sharp Serpentine Cheetah Disguise (Whew) Sensational Cat Masque worn at the height of the winter season at the demesne of a petty, but connected prince, this masque was the unconventional star of the gala. Though it is de rigueur for bored & contemptuous nobility to wear such a masque – this one is nevertheless rather avant garde. Fashioned to resemble the always weeping face of a cat, the masque has concealed within it the fangs of a deadly cobra – which can be used surreptitiously to poison one’s social superiors or rivals.

An Elite Cutting Cutter A Master Shiv – one of the fabled relics of the depths of Eternal Bondage Warren Seven, the shiv of shivs, the cutter of cutters. A crude implement fashioned with so much malice, so much terror & cunning that it cuts other blades as it cuts flesh – and it certainly cuts flesh. Hidden until needed, and frequently needed one of the master shivs is never noticed until it is too late.

Grotesque Trendy Triangular Grayscale Mercantile Marble Measuring Rod Ostentatious Merchant's Scale - Both tacky & flashy, this is a marble rod with a few commercial uses. The scale is a sign of petite bourgeoisie affluence in the culture that fashioned it. It measures coins by size - if one follows the marks along its grotesquely carved sides - which are made to resemble naked women of improbable proportions. It also measures by weight - if it is laid on a firm surface the angled instrument - all made of gray marble - can be used to measure out, with good accuracy, the weights of small objects.

A Scrupulous Fabric Rerebrace Mantle of the Saint's Shroud - The true believers who follow the faith of the saints regard their martyrdom as a passage into the next world, a beautiful and perfect world at war with an evil and corrupt earth. The relics of the saints are considered holy & magically powerful. So much so that the death shrouds of the departed saints are commonly fashioned into suits of armor - stiffened with the blood of the slain saints - these mantles are worn into battle by the most devoted of the saint's believers.

Extraordinary Pudgy Serrated Kaleidoscopic Ectoplasm Flail Ghost Rainbow Pendulum - The implement of a large creature - maybe an ogre or an orc - this extraordinary flail is composed not of steel & chain but of the jagged ectoplasmic substance of ghosts. In the right light the flail casts a shimmering cascade of whirling colors, almost hypnotic. In the hands of a giant this might be an inscrutible tool but at your size it makes a crediable weapon.

Pestilent Endless Dark Frightening Possum Plague Totem - This unseemly beast - a scrawny, tattered & dingy possum has been in your family's possession for generations. It is undying & possibly unliving. It is endless. It is also a harbinger of disease & a vector for plague. You can brandish it, when you wish, to universal dismay, but you cannot get rid of it. It is a totem creature and it always seems to find its way back to you.

Comical Significant Flame Coat Famous Clown Coat - A long and comically proportioned coat. This garment is ragged & patchwork by contrivance - meant to elicit a humorous response - its main comedy gimmick is how it bursts into flames on command. Not quite magical and not quite alchemical, the process by which the coat bursts into multihued flames is a trade secret that you have to re-rig intermittently. The coat's fame derives from its previous owner - a performer of renown.

Useful Massive Regular Fang Tool-Tooth - One of your front teeth is notably larger & stronger than the others and it is remarkably useful. Good for severing ropes, prying apart stuck items, even for gnawing through wood or metal. You've been known to sharpen blades & cut through bolts with your tool-tooth and at need your old fang makes a fair weapon - though it's never quite pleasant biting a monster or enemy.

Ritualistic Slender Next Champions Diamond Frustrating Slug Gastropod Idol - The champion must run a race, each year. This is what keeps the sun in the sky, the running of the race by a champion. Of course they wouldn't be much in the way of champions if the race were easy. No. Everyone in the polity must attempt to frustrate the Champion and they do so by throwing effigies and idols of the dark gods of the pantheon - those who wish to extinguish the sun. When your turn as champion came you chose something else. Either run the race and be pelted possibly to death, or take the idol and go. It's a slender affair- resembling a kind of slug- one of the baser villain gods of the pantheon - and it's encrusted with jewels, diamonds. It's worth a small fortune no doubt but not enough to die for - and look, the sun is still rising anyhow.

Spearing Insect It's a Mosquito - You have a pet mosquito

Stern Tremendous Tattered Marine Gold Koi The Great Gold Carp - not quite lucky and not quite unlucky the Great Gold Carp is auspicious. It's moustache-like whiskers are long & grant the creature and intense, almost hostile expression. It's quite large of course, almost as big as an Orc and it's gold. Not gold in color, but gold. Its scales are pure gold, that is, where they remain intact. Treasure hunters haven't been kind to the Great Gold Carp. It's up to you to care for the creature - which is why you've brought it with you.

Denim Coat Your Dad's Sweet Jacket - Your dad is pretty cool. That's what he tells you. You're not so sure but maybe he was once cool? His Sweet Jacket seems to suggest that he might have been. It's a torn & beat up denim jacket that' pinned together with patches & emblems of bands & gangs & fictional nations. It's pretty much The Coolest. And it kind of still fits your dad - so maybe he's right. Anyhow - he gave it to you because you're going on an adventure.

Disconcerting Mongoose Rikki Tikki Terror - As mongooses go, this one is pretty weird - it's unpleasant is what it is. It's like a typical mongoose except for how it's also a cobra. It's got a cobra hood and it does a cobra's hypnotic dance… Still, it's got four furry legs and hunts snakes. Doesn't make it any less creepy.

Enthusiastic Liliputian Pioneering Tawny Majestic Beaver Invasive Miniature Beavers - Somewhere in between a mouse and a rat in size, these shaggy little creatures are flat-tailed aquatic dam-builders, beavers. They're common in your homeland - known for breeding at a terrific pace and for damming & controlling the flow of rivers. They're an essential part of your home's ecology - so why not bring them to the North as a boon to future settlements? The few you carry with you were given you by the kings & queens of your homeland - from the regnal stock, they're the exemplary specimens of these beasts that can be found

Beautiful Mini Textile Belt Quilt Sash - A lovely wide belt made of many beautiful scraps of patterned cloth. It's quite comfortable and very distinct.

Impossible Baby Millionth Immaculate Baize Staff One Millionth Baby's Green Felt Staff - An edict went out - centuries ago - that every baby be swaddled in green felt - and that in time, the swaddling clothes be wrapped tightly and formed into a rolled up tube - a staff. Each of these felt staves - given rigidity by the tightness of the wrapping & the application of secret varnishes became emblematic of the many generations as each was carried by everyone in the culture. The edict, the ancient mandate held that the thousandth-thousand child would be the last, the final progeny of the line. And so it was. You might be the last baby of your society - or you might have the last baby's staff from an unrelated culture.

Lithium Pitons Mermaid Fireworks - These arrowheads of elemental lithium are stored in a small keg full of naptha. When properly used these arrowheads are exposed to water where they react vividly by exploding into silvery light which burns luminously undersea.

Opportunistic Ruby Dagger Barbed Hairpin - A ruby crusted hairpin that hides cruel barbs when the rubies on its stem are properly manipulated. The hairpin makes a cunning and pernicious dagger that's easily concealed.

Dumb Garnet Gilded Ladder Preposterous Carriage Stairs - This small, portable stairway was intended no doubt for the royalty of some opulent nation. Now in your possession, these golden stairs encrusted with garnets give easier access to carriages, help you mount horses & are otherwise modestly useful for reaching things on top shelves.

Adequate Coruscating Forged Enchanting Staff Tool Wizard's Reservior - In the land of your origins there are wizards of no small power and have been for many generations. Among them they carry their vanity in the form of fabulous staves - each brimming with enchantments. The staff of a wizard requires a goodly bit of maintenance in order to remain magically effective - and so the invention of one wizard became a sought after item - the Wizard's reservior is an adequate little device that bends the dimensional harmonics so that it can re-enchant magical staves & other items.

Obdurate Advanced Trapezoidal Burnt Mechanical Rabbit Hedgehog Stubborn Mechano-Pet - All the rage long ago, the mechano-pet was a vaguely wholesome combination of clockwork, phlogiston, rabbit & hedgehog. Yours still is all of that, and stubborn too. Where the others have quit, given up the ghost, ceased to function - yours still works. It's a rarity & an oddity in most places, but a few in the world will recognize it fondly as one of childhood's own gimcracks.

Morbid Smallish Blocky Immaculate Metropolitan Toga Your Mourning Toga - As a child you wore this toga frequently - a garment used as a sign of official mourning, it was in constant use as plagues and famine struck the great city of your birth. Over time the toga - 10 yards of dark wool, finely woven - came to represent many, many failings & difficulties in your life. You keep it now, and wear it when it suits you - an elegant momento of a more tragic age.

Secondhand Sturdy Religious Lens The Sin-Seer's Monocle - The Sin-Seer of your town was a wicked individual, coarse & full of harsh punishments. When you held the mirror up it was a scandal - on you of course - for your impudence - but more on the Sin-Seer, the mirror wouldn't relent & the old cleric fell into a fit. You swiped the Monocle for yourself & ever since you've had the knack for spotting the dirtiest deeds that stain the hands of the wicked.

Pitiful Baggy Crude Slug Mortar & Pestle Petrified Snail Mill - You crush the roots & grind the leaves, you make powders & poisons, tinctures & tonics. It's not just the ingredients though - that you know. It's the vessel - an ancient snail-shell, of some kind - a fossil maybe? And for the pestle, the petrified remnant of the snail - or maybe a slug? It's ugly to look at, puffed & wrinkled as it is, it looks like... Well, it's not polite to say in mixed company just what the wrinkled old gray thing looks like - but it grinds the leaves & roots just right, adds a bit of antique magic.

Dreaded Trim Hazy Sand Sling Sand Caster - A weapon without like or peer, handed down to you from its inventor. This armament - simple in design - a sling woven of cloud & dust, the gauzy tendrils of the sirrocco bound together into a sling. Used to scatter & scare the desert jackals rather than to kill - it throws volleys of grit rather than stones - unerring little projectiles that irritate rather than harm. And yet, in many ways much worse than a simple stone between the eyes.

Useful Asbestos Sundial Fire Clock - What the sundial lacks in nighttime utility the Fire Clock adequately compensates for. When placed in a fire, any fire, the Fire Clock stays cool to the touch, impenetrable to heat it nevertheless reacts to light. When placed int the fire the clock shows the hour, as if the flame knew it and were happy to tell.

Awesome Common Primal Whole Arcane Poniard Complete Blade - In ancient ages when the gods created the heavens they did so during a war amongs themselves & the void that divides. Among the gods' champions were the umpteenth powers, the mountains & the oceans & the moons - all of these living geomorphs, covering the unformed sky - battling with space itself left marks that remain in the world still. An old broken hill, small for a mountain but of an ancient temper - a fallen comet, a mountain from space that was once a warrior - its fingers long spikes, its nails complete swords. Complete. There were 10 once, all of the awesome swords fallen to earth, the fingers of a mountain that was a soldier in the sky. You've one - a whole one - complete.

Subtle Microscopic Maroon Seraphic Samite Descending Talisman Kiss of a Falling Angel - Once, when you were born an angel came to see you and left a mark upon you - its unutterably white lips against your maroon, just born lips. A kiss that passed on the germ of the angelic, the dust of stars & the image of heaven itself - retained in your mind, a permanent notion of what could be and what might be lost. It abides in you, subtly, surfacing only at times of despair when need for clear vision is greatest.

Putrid Shadowed Lead Pills Those Bitter Bullets - A small passel of bullets - lead balls used for slings & as shot for harquebuses. These though, are peculiar. Having been used at some point to pierce the tenebrous hide of the Night Monster they have become somewhat tainted, somewhat mystic and somewhat sought after. These bullets are colored with the blood of the Night Monster & it's ichor scored them with hideous epithets in its strange, starry language. Now they grant peculiar powers over shadow - allowing you better vision & better stealth when you have the nerve & the desperation to actually swallow one.

A Quantity of Crafy Voluminous Aboriginal Miasma Sheep The Plague Drove - Those who settled in your homeland brought with them their own breeds of barnyard beasts. Among them were the diaphonous wooled ewes of modern providence. This particular breed - while giving a fine wool has an extremely unhelpful, even dangerous feature & that is that their wool gathers & disperses contagion. Where this drove of sheep go there follows a plague. Driven away & out the shepherds of this storied breed relenquished their herds and you ended up with a few.
kingtycoon: (Default)

It seems last year was caves and this year is resistance.

Listen. It's very dispiriting. But also.

The situation was this - and I understand the situation a little for reasons. The reasons:

The game store where we all used to meet to roll the dice is by the airport - right between there and some really unfortunate housing projects. Kind of a food desert. Kind of a messed up place to be. But cheap rent on storefronts for sure. So next to the game shop, for a long time, was this Somali restaurant - and it was REAL Somali - as in for & by the local Somali community. My family style Arabic barely got me a non-threatening glance (I know arabic isn't Somali or whatever dialect is spoken by African Horners - but it's still kind of spoken around & most people know about as much as I do). Anyhow - their goat was good - their rice was terrible. Always their parking lot was full of cabs - because the Somali community around here is made up of a lot of cab drivers and we kind of learned that, all about that by proximity.

So We're marching up the entryway to the airport - which I've previously walked up out of a mad rage of weird feelings (it's pretty weird to walk out of the airport- you factually may have to run across 2 or 4 lanes of freeway traffic) - so I kind of knew what was up and pointed out to my friend we were with that - well, this is a dead end route and if we want to go back on the train, we're going back the other way. Which we eventually did -but I was interested to see the Black & Red team leading the parade - it's interesting because this is march #2 for me this month & #3 for me in life - and I don't tire of seeing the fluid dynamism of groups of people and how some, who've trained & practiced, kind of lead the flock. (I did honestly think of the judas goat, truly. I don't sign up any petition, for example- because how many people asking for signatures are FBI? Probably a lot, that's my thought). But the black & red anarchists did a fair job of leading a march & chanting.

My experience of marching - the women's march the police were even a little smiley. This time at the airport there was a much more cold, aggressive look coming off of them. When seeking justice for Tamir - then the police were extremely hostile and did get shitty with people and it was intimidating and frightening.

This time - the cabs all rolled through the crowd - the cabbies had gone to get their families - to see what was being done - to see us and they came through with their fists up and waving and I for real got moved, with a feeling. Seeing people who would have been and might be put out and who I take to be part of the fabric of my city and knowing that there's a lot of us, who will do what we can for each other. It was good. I'm sentimental and I choked up.

I really don't know what else to do. Besides this. It's ceremonial, I think, demonstrating displeasure, finding the others. We talked to the people getting off at our train stop - a little. I wasn't very chatty. I try, but I'm a body in the crowd - my participation is a bit on the quiet side, but I'm very, very present. I didn't know what to say and we all shook our heads wondering if we'd be doing this again next week.

I mean, I really don't know. It's gone all crazy.
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Hey! We did a thing! Before Noon! On a Saturday!

If you're playing at home I make fun of and fuss over that kid because I'm genuinely proud of her all of the time and I want to help her motivate herself rather than just be bossed.

Or whatever. Sunday morning I was all grouchy when her friend called at 1:30 to invite her to do something and I had to go and wake her up to talk to him. Sleepy teen & the barely tolerant father - that's the story being written. Anyhow it seems she stayed up very late working on her animation so I... What are you gonna do right? Hard working on personal projects, missing sleep & etc... Cause at 2 in the morning I'm definitely sleeping so there's no chance I'll jump up and make her go for a walk or see the outside of her room.


For real I don't mind her ways it's just that I'm not equipped to be good at helping her when this is the way that she is - we're at a point where we've diverged and I...

So there's a lot to say about this - I tell her: "You know, I spent the last 10 years or so getting boring, learning to stay home on weekends and not go out late and not to be really out & social because I spend my time raising you. And now I'm in a place where I figure you'll just consider your pop to be dull & uninteresting - because that's how it goes right? They are trained to be dull for their kids' sake and then their kids think they're dull? But she's not ready to be real cool, or something?"

Did I tell you about her one friend's drunken gun-having mother? That had been her go-to sleep-over buddy and now it's forbidden that she be there because of all the drinks I had with the mother and her confessional exposition. You can't trust these people! These mothers. They're maniacs.

Sometimes the mothers would come over to my house, together, and nervously chuckle and trade glances and want to talk and talk to me for hours and look at all my weird shit that my house is full of - museum style. And what do you say to them? I get cues like they're waiting to be asked out or something - I don't ever know. Mothers!


There's confusing things about how to be toward people. Sometimes it's obvious & clear - you wake up and take the train downtown and chant against the asshole and the assholes who put him in authority. It's nice when what you ought to do is obvious & clear. Especially as it's been obscure anymore - or uncertain.

I'll get my footing again, act with certainty, be real certain.
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Chicago is pretty much the best to me. Chicago - the girl from Chicago, plus her mastery over the spot - it's good here. She's a goddess, a queen, the whole thing - the whole perfect sink for all my feelings and so on. But beyond - right, past all the purely magnetic things that go between two people - she's got the qualities that are virtuous just beyond and one of them is her almost faulty generosity. We got pedicures after she got me the fanciest of cowboy boots and then we went to Argentinian steaks and then for a lot of short walks in the cold, cold air.


Today's been a low day of long recovering, we hurt ourselves a little badly, I think, with poor wine or maybe that combined with hard, hard cold. Lazy on the couch and bed. I ran to the store to remedy her barely forgivable lack of asprin - but it's all to the good. Tonight I roll home on a bus and then it's straight to work in the morning. Which makes this all seem like a dream, since I ran here right from work back on thursday.

I couldn't tell you more than this, what I'm telling you, I guess. I've got that thing, where the telling of things has been all wrung out of me, as we lay and talk and wander and talk. It's so cold and we can't go walking - though it's my natural state, my regular way. There's a chill and a hush and grilled cheese griddled to the tune of pet sounds and... Would you think badly of me if I told you I don't want to go?
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Chicago this weekend.  Again.  I've been getting out there every 4th weekend.  Those are the weekends A goes with her mom.  I'm having all kinds of feelings - about that aspect of things specifically.

On the weekends when she's here - Agatha, there's a lot of doing nothing.  She's falling into herself now - almost 14, almost interested in things.  There's the thing, she has, I have it and maybe she got it from me - the self containment, the paucity of visible affect.  I tell her, because she's having friction with her mom about it - I tell her "Your feelings are yours, you don't owe it to anyone to perform you rfeelings, you don't have to demonstrate enthusiasm or sorrow or whatever."  I mean it too.  But it's tricky to deal with, between us.  I get why people don't respond very... positively to me, at least, why they seem confused.  I say, without any demonstated enthusiasm:  "That's great."  and I mean that I think it's great.  I guess people take it for sarcasm, or that I'm disingenuous.  I don't care to perform.  At all.  But especially I don't feel like my feelings are for other people to have or use.  But I don't think it's guardedness, exactly.  It's just that I don't do that.  I don't act out my bad or happy feelings and maybe I'm fucking inscrutible, but that's my affair.  That's really where I am on this.  I don't see it as a problem.  If it is, it's not mine.

But I see what they're saying - because Agatha does it.  To me, and it's a little confusing.  I say to her-  make a list, write down the things you really want to do.  This way, I'll know and won't have to interpret.  We'll have straightforward experiences.  I'm tired of her being so idle.  It agitates me.  And then it doesn't.

Saturday night and it's closing on midnight, she's apparently done nothing all day and I'm frustrated that she won't show an interest in even getting food, I'm getting aggravated and bored, really bored - and then she shows me what she's been doing- animating all day.  Furiously working on her work.  And.  Well that's me isn't it?  I'm planning to measure my output this year in feet.  As in how high the stack of books I'll make will be.  I think I have a foot, for sure, but I'd like to try for two.  And that's a lot of solitude, and effort and apparent indolence.  The appearance right?  So I'm aggravated & kind of bored but not.

And I start thinking about Chicago, and how I'd like to be with her, and it gets into a cloud of emotions right?  Because I shouldn't want to be apart from my kid - and I don't.  I don't want to be apart from her, but I also, I'm feeling like I don't need to be with her-  like - she's self contained in a way that makes a lot of sense to me.  We're occupying space and sometimes the things we make correspond and correlate - but often enough we're just working in separate rooms.  14.  And then?  She's about to be 14 and she's about to need me in a way that's less fun.  Less engaging.  So I think about it.  This stuff.

I'm not gonna do anything - nothing rash or ill considered - but my experience of feeling these things is worth documenting.
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Our prescriptions aren't close. I'm hard of seeing, as they would say, if they were cleverer.

So it's been some time right? And... Autobiographical isn't a voice I can summon so easily. I was talking about this - about during what I perceived to be a golden age for old Livejournal - maybe 10-12 years ago? You'd have this practice, especially among other livejournalists, where you'd be generating critique and recitation of what you were doing while you did it. So you'd have a layered awareness of what was what while you'd be doing what you're doing. An extra depth added to the experience.

Now my autobiographical memory is somehow weaker. And here's I guess what I've come here to talk about, after all this time.

So what was it? Early October? It must have been - she came here to do a thing in an unpleasant place and I'm... I'm good at helping one face unpleasantness. I think about that line in Gatsby - something about how he had a nice smile and people must have told him so he smiled a lot & you could tell. I've got the right kind of imposing presence and people like to tell me about it and I am more imposing because of it. Like, I throw effort at it. It's 3:00 and 2 strangers have commented on my height today. That's regular. Strangers talk about how I look to me a lot. It's not weird for me.

So I'm good at hard appearances. That goes... a way. An okay way but still, there's someone else in the picture and I'm not anxious to join. It's just a Sunday night in October, maybe saturday.

Later I'm invited to her house - which is far off, in Chicago. And I go - that's much more dreamlike and idyllic. Then, a lot happens. It's very much like a dream, uncertain bounds between events - seemingly unrelated by any narrative- there are scenes and then scenes and then departures & arrivals. I went back, and then she came and we went to caves and then I went back and then she came again. I'm going next week. It's a lot of going & coming. I can't quite keep it straight.

Is it dreams & strangeness that makes it all so unrememberable? Or maybe, just maybe, it's antidepressant medicine. I thought of this. About how I did tend to have superior autobiographical recall - First Grade Ms. Morrison, blue eyes, 80's hair, smiled nice. Second grade Ms. Taylor, severe look, jowly, kind of harsh but also sweet, loving to me anyway. Brown on brown. Third Grade Mrs. Rupp, match-curls blue eyes, uninteresting, plain. Fourth Grade... I mean - it goes on, trust that I remember them all and more. Scenes and faces. And you know, they have said - that one dude, who had perfect recall, wasn't he some sadness-champ? Some hero of depressions? I get it. It makes sense - everything is mundane when you've already done it. Nothing is exactly a surprise when you've anticipated it. The most optimistic people I can think of were all salesmen, and dumb ones. To them - tomorrow would be the day it would happen. It would happen, certainly and do not doubt it, though it might be sensible to doubt it, or reasonable or even crazy not to doubt it. But if you can't remember your faults you can't believe they'll occur down the road.

But I have my work (Please consider buying and or reviewing!)  and the work I'm paid to do, and my kid and family. In the same amounts - or more generously applied, slathered on really, a thick rind of sugar-gone-stiff over whatever essential force lies at the bottom or the center of the self.
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I mean, if you want to know the facts of it it's pretty simple and exactly what you must have come to expect. I found love again and this time in a cave.

My thing is that energy. I feel very lazy, I feel very like a log lying still, and yet... It seems I get a lot done. NaNoWriMo is passing away and I feel a little sorrow that I didn't write a novel this year, but hey, I made some other books. A few actually. Not novels, splatbooks & supplements for my cool OSR game about art & creation. I made those.

I made pictures and art for a lady too. That energy you know, to make & do & do again.

In her cool car she takes us to KY to see the longest cave and the birthplace of Lincoln. And people, and cities and small towns and nice places. All nice places. It's again that thing of brief moments and long travels, and a far off place where she lives and I can barely go.

I do okay in this mode. I have the most to offer the frequently absent object of my affection as I'm frequently absent. Busy, complicated. And yet.

There are those moments where you evolve a thought & practice toward a new kind of life which can accommodate the other and this is really where I fall down when it comes to love as, as-it-happens there's the constant impediment of MeMyselfandI which is protected and unassailable - not owing to much but the various insecurities imposed by late capitalism. It's all too expensive you see and impossible. Except when it isn't. When dreams overthrow the banks of sense. You get it, you understand carried away. As one is when they find love in a cave. Who knows how fleeting, who knows what forever is or never.

But only think of me if you have some spare plane tickets to offer.
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At the store where they sell Dave Bowie votive candles and preserved tarantulas we get into a little conversation with the lady who says "I guess I'm going to have to be all punk rock again".

Laughing resignedly. That's thematic.

In the end I guess it'll feel good to hate the president again. Like an atrophied muscle in need of a workout.
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What I realized in the end is that I don’t like nice things.

It went down like so – I was talking to someone it’s been a long time since I talked to.  We made plans to meet where we first met all those years ago in Kent.  So Kent is a place I’ve always been fond of – something about growing up there, kind of.  And walking around – there are few places-  the 6 way intersection on Main where we stood around waiting – and the row of crummy frat houses – and then across the way… the new library or community center?  The coffee shop, I don’t care to discuss, the old neighborhood where I once lived – all Very Sleek – new & modern style.  Chain sandwich shops, that fakey weird ersatz plaza style you see around nowadays.  It doesn’t sit well and I talk a bit about how I really wish for a thing that is the same.  I wish kind of earnestly for continuity of place.  And I’m shut down and at a loss.  Places change.  I remember that buildings are supposed to make you feel good but most don’t.  I remember building buildings like this.  Quotes on yards of brick & block & stucco facades.  I remember tenants & feeling a vague shame about constructing these unappealing bunkers used only for commerce.
Things change whether you’d like them to or not, that’s the same old story.  We have our time in Kent and then she drives me back downtown and there I’m more at home.  There, you see the buildings, the good ones.  Something about them – you know, they make you feel good.  We’re walking and talking and thinking about it.  I’m thinking about it-  she’s got other matters in mind. 
Mass culture.  That’s the thing.  I used to have nicer things and I didn’t care to keep on chasing them.  At the bar where we end the night out I’m trying to explain – there’s the same bottle of the same bourbon and there’s the granite bartop and there’s the same lights and the same chairs and the same things, all the same things that you find at every other bar that’s putting on a demonstration of ambient class. 
I’m thinking now of that place in Buffalo where I went with the Dark Lord after his shift at the convenience store.  The walls were made of old car hoods and people were actively spray painting them – it was winter and the windows were broken – snow was drifting around them and the very extremely coked-up sex-workers who came to gawk at us and who threw bottles and had bottles thrown at them, and the glass all swept in the corner and left, and the home-made off brand moonshine in reused Jack Daniels bottles.  I’ve never seen something like that again, never before either. 
Mass culture – there’s a standard of what it is to be upper middle class and or aspirant to it, there’s a marketable, identifiable baseline of appropriate quality & form, and it’s always, always soft & bland and easy to digest.  I remember selling cars and being irritated-  you can have  beige interior or a grey interior.  Agatha says – “If I knew someone and they said their favorite color is beige – I’d think they were robots or aliens.”  Cause it’s not anyone’s favorite but they’re inoffensive and thus commercial.  So you have the strip mall of chain sandwich joints and the same bar in the lobby of all the hotels and nobody is offended – except maybe me.  I try explaining it but she’s onto something else & again and always – I know that I’ll never be able to explain an never should persuade a lady to enjoy the broken & horrible the way I do.
I’m told it’s because I have an excess of privilege because I’m huge and thus not fearful in the way that most people are.  Maybe that’s true.  I think about the times people have tried to make me feel afraid and usually it’s about money and usually I ignore them.  Don’t pay your bills and you can’t have nice things – that’s what they tell you.
But nice things are all nice in the same boring way.  Mass culture.  Buildings are supposed to make you feel good, but most don’t.  Downtown the buildings give you a sense of permanence & continuity.  They’re huge and stone and built more than a hundred years ago, you see, before mass culture and mass production, before things were inoffensive first.  They make you feel a good way about the world – or a bad or angry way.  But a way.  They command your interest.  They’re not nice but rather grand & impoing.
Nice things are all nice in the same way – ruined things – and I know this from my time exploring the ruins  -they’re all ruined in their own way.  Every ruin is its own place every wasteland is uniquely itself and unattainable.
We talk about the nice hotel rooms.  I tell her – downtown the best place is or was the Wilsonn school.  The abandoned elementary school that you have to enter through a partly flooded basement.  Some explorers went there and brought a bunch of carnival sized stuffed animals – the big prize ones and they set them up as an audience and presumably they put on a play. When I was there there were dusty programs laying around.  Every place is nice in the same way – but I’m one of maybe 30 people?  At the outside, who went to the Wilsonn school and saw the weird stuffed animal audience and experienced the uncanny personal efforts that are the part of a ruin that can’t be translated & can’t be made on a mass scale. 
“It’s not for everyone.”  That seems to mean it’s probably for me.
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A Jinglestaff – Priests of the Mnemnion consider all living things to be alive & to possess animating souls – as such they hold that harming any living being is an unfortunate wickedness.  They carry these types of Jinglestaves – light metal poles 10’ long, carved with a spiraling pattern of prayers and topped with a headpiece of jingling wind-chimes.  The intention of the stick is to help the priests focus on their prayers and to startle & frighten off any animals they might encounter so that there’s no danger of them having to fight them off, potentially killing them.  Since these priests are strictly pacifistic, It’s not too hard to get one of these staves, if you want it.

Diabolical Hand – You’ve got a diabolical demonic claw-hand.  It’s certainly at odds with just about any religion and it marks you as a heretic.  It’s your left hand and you can keep it hidden sometimes, but it’s also a serviceable weapon.  If you use your satanic hand to swear oaths or pledge allegiances you can’t be held accountable and really – who could expect you to be.  So why do you have this hand?  What did you do to get a horrible claw-hand from hell?

A Buried General’s Armor – In antique times the empress would quite rightly be entombed with effigies of her multitudes, representations of her endless sea of retainers.  Naturally  these would be interred in the burial site clothed in the arms & armor of their living reflections.  Over the course of events it’s just as natural that these effigies would be revealed by pernicious nature and that the ghost-empress would lead this army of golems to conquer the world once again.  Win or lose the mummy-army of the empress took the field in their splendid antique coats of arms – and now you have one, a memento of two eras of merciless conquest.

Some Blue Gods’ Thoughts – In the exotic outback of your homeland there are shrines built at all the cardinal & ordinal points – intermittently across great distances, these are shrines to the 8 Blue Gods – genii of wind & weather.  Their wills & the nature of Fate & Destiny itself is told by the motion of fans within these temples, fans of blue-tinted porcelain & glass, dyed & styled according to the 8 gods’ varied forms.  A Dragon, A Dove, A Raven, A Moth – for the Cardinal gods & for the ordinal: A Cloud, A Star, A Rainbow & A Zephyr.  These gods & their signs inhabit these fans – which function nicely as lovely fans, but which also are essential to proper fortunetelling.  You’ve got 8 of the fans which you use in your divinations.

An Alien’s Space Helmet – As hats go yours doesn’t quite fit, its got a peculiar shape and shapelessness & it’s made of a lustrous metal that’s deceptively light.  It’s a weird hat all right.  You found it, one day, in a shallow rudimentary grave – you didn’t mean to rob the grave, you were just plowing, like normal, and you dug up something strange – a burial site for someone that wasn’t quite a person.  Five arms, three legs, a couple of heads?  That’s what you suspect based on the ‘bones’ but they weren’t really bones.  The hat though – it wasn’t damaged, it wasn’t even scratched.  You handled it and it seemed…nice.   And you put it on your head and what do you know – it is nice.  Nice as in friendly, as in helpful.  It speaks!  This magic hat.  Gibberish at first, but over time it’s begun to talk in your language.  It knows things, about sums & distances, weights & measures.  Sometimes it gives you handy tips on how to accomplish things you’d normally struggle with, have to write down.  It’s a peculiar hat alright, but helpful.
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I have elaborate plans involving acrylic resins & printing on wood for the finished - extra spooky - versions of these but here goes my Creepiest & Possibly Worst iteration of outsider creep 'art'.
I gave myself bad dreams making these. )
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Where have I been? Where's the summer gone. I went away. I went on an impromptu kind of trip with Erinn & Brent - Panda house #4 - I put it at 3rd out of the series, maybe 2nd. It was good seeing those guys -but it's strange...

Okay - so here's THIS ONE CONFLICT that kind of summarizes my state right now.

So those guys are deep into middle class & their respective professions. These are matters that I never really took seriously - not when it was time to really plan these things out & take some initiative on the matter - mainly because I had another path in front of me.
So... Kind of I'm behind? I don't feel like it. I mean, I don't have that nice of stuff, but also, I really don't care? I'm pretty okay with my working-class situation, and honestly, I feel like it helps me to be a better kind of dude? I don't know.

They're in it though - their professions and their middle-class. I'm. I'm too busy. I guess? (although probably I don't get paid what I'm worth, and probably I'm just resigned to that being the situation that I'll always be in? Because I've totally lost any illusion that there exists in any state a meritocracy.)

If you could do anything, what would you do?

I mean - you're supposed to answer that question for yourself and do that thing. So I decided to be a game designer. I'm working really, pretty hard on this - and kind of! Kind of in solitude. It's nutty as hell but I decided to do it and I'm going to, with all the determination I can muster.
Here's where you can buy or look at these things:
or if you want a nice hardbound print copy:

I gotta sort out twitter & make sense of it. On FB I use the rules of the game to generate a random item every day and to make a new monster every week.

Plus I plan to try and put out a supplemental book every month. Every. Month.
So that's what I'm doing.

This month I'm writing a new adventure. I'll have to find time to run it a couple of times too - which won't be too hard.

The other things on the agenda - Video-playthroughs - this is for training purposes & so people can, I guess witness? My performance. I'm a good DM, I'll show them all! I'll show them all...

And like - a radio play? I'm working on that. Podcast. I thought about creating a bit of fiction - but then I thought- what if I made it a kind of show, so I'm trying to get people to get on that with me. Maybe by the end of the year?

I mean - plus I go to work every day and also look for & interview at better jobs - because of I hung out with my boys, and they were all: "You need to get paid more."

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Where to begin right? It's been busy. Earlier in august, faded & eased in the deep heat of summer we played this game where I improvise made up names for all the flowers. I reason that upon a time once this is what people did and why should they get all the chances when I'm alive and here and they are dead. Above see: Raccoons' Whispers.

Years ago, now, though it seems only months or weeks, there was another game of improvisation, and one before that - I think it must have started with the King of the Fairies, a bedtime story that's quite nice and went on to be beloved by thousands of unique visitors on my other blog. Then we played the game of 'Tell me about your other children dad!' which is played at restaurants waiting for food. Starting with A you work through the alphabet and describe the child & the terrible circumstances of their untimely death. I won't like - having gone through the alphabet a couple of times in a few years I went back to the same well a few times & a nontrivial percentage of my madeup children have died at the fins of Carps. Filthy carps.

Now it's making up flower names - it started out with Mexican Fairy Puzzles and has continued.

Through the week not much happened. Dinner with my folks is brief & kind of cursory - my brother-in-law is there and I get to play with his little daughter who is in a great stage of childhood where everything she does is prefaced by dramatic refusal. "Uncle is here! I want to hug him, but first I shout no and run and run." Sorry kid, I ain't chase anyone and especially after work. By the end she's after what all little kids crave & that is for a tall man to put them on the ceiling. Dad is quiet & mom is assertive in her plaintive way. Brother-In-Law is not to whatever place he gets to that causes him to rave like a maniac about politics. It's pleasant and I go home and am beat.

Tuesday I get caught in the rain in Shaker Square doing after-work work, I'm soaked on through and water drips off my glasses for the rest of the day, long after the rain is gone. Home & relax. This is a pattern - home & relax. Wednesday we do Dungeon World- though halfheartedly with half the players & the story progress halted - meantime the DM & his friend are thrilled up and down about their metal album dropping the next day and their hip-hop album dropping the day before. We have a useful conversation about self-promotion & I think a lot about how to sell books. I drink too much wine since they drink too little. You can't leave the bottles just open. That's wasteful, it'll be spoiled to vinegar if you just leave it. I think. I'll stick with that.

Then on to a blur of days culiminating in the weekend. Kid is a champion here's what she did:

A way's back she inherited my old roommate's fancy gaming computer - a big beast with neon lights and a bunch of noisy fans. I don't use it, I don't want it. Console for me. She has it and I do a very little work on it - installing her drawing tablet for example, hardware that needs a little intervention. She wants the Sims 4 and buys it with her going-back-to-school gift money, that and board games, no clothes, no, not her. EA makes a game that's a pain in the ass to install and that needs a bunch of nonsense - I don't want to help her so I tell her to figure it out herself. She does it, installs visual basic, all the other dependencies, figures out the updates & everything. I'm pleased as punch, good for her - figure out how to work your computer.

Earlier we'd bought a pineapple and eaten it up and while at the grocery in the baking aisle she noticed that there's lemon curd & cherry filling and so on but no pineapple pie filling - so I look up ways to make pinepple pie and sunday we made 5 of them.

The pineapple coconut chess pie was the winner - something I'd make to take to a party. The sour-cream-pineapple with merengue was the hardest to make and has the most promise - as a thing to eat, but asks for practice at making.

Today she's at the zoo with her Gramma & little cousin and I'm at work grubbing about with wiring and office remodeling. This is all there is, watching summer fade out and doing all that can be done to extract the pieces of happiness we can out of it.

Oh - somewhere along the way we had our favorite Chinese kind of food and watched Kubo & the Two Strings which was wonderful.
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Cracked Gray

I went to a hangout with my game-design bros and we met for tacos - this was a couple of weeks ago when it was still the hottest. So hot. We went out Lakewood way and ate tacos and drank tequila and talked game design & game mastery. My strength is in running the game but it's not always a matter of a specific skill-set as it is sometimes a talent for theatrical storytelling & descriptive immersion. I'm not awesome at giving everyone their own turns but I am awesome at letting everyone do what they want - or at least - letting them try to do what they want. These weren't simple things to learn, but they're hard to translate.

Game design discussion kind of focuses in on that- on the inability of the game to describe the GM's role adequately - you either do it well or don't and people know. I'm pretty good. We have tacos and my man Tim is all: "Wait do you eat pork?" And I am all: "Yeah, I'm not muslim." and he's all: "I think we talked about this before, about pigs being unclean." And I realized and said: "I think most of our conversations actually take place in character man."

Tonight is Dungeon-World which does it's level best to be intensely descriptive of the GM's role - there are strict structural cues on how to run the game - like, Table-Work which I find frankly intrusive & unwelcome - though it is plenty of fun to play - it's constraining to run. But I'm satisfied to play.

Game of the North is basically Done. I have to do the final pass on edits, rewrites & fixes - the BORING parts that are un-fun. I'll get through those, slap on the ISBN and be kind-of Done.

I'm going to keep on working on spellbook items - to make a splatbook of magic spells for it and probably finish up the campaign setting which is effectively a fancy-pants boxed set - which will probably cost $100+ to print on demand. I'm coming to the limit of what I can afford to straight up make & sell out of pocket.

Meantime - I'm scratching my itch to put together a non-OSR game - make something modern & sleek. Science Fiction - something I've worked on before and will start to really & truly develop. On that front I'm about to pay for an artist, commissions - crazy right? I just do what I want on this front - I advance the projects a bit at a time & wish I had the resources to really do it better. Here's the things I wrote to this artist about what I'm trying to make:

What I really need are a couple of strong aesthetic cues for this project - something that divides the different planets and groups (so the setting is effectively like Flash Gordon - with the different moons - like the Forest Moon or the Watery Moon or whatever - but with a bit more of Hard SF edge).

So an image, I'll try to describe in words a couple of scenes that I'd like to run/tell (I don't know how familiar you are with RPGs as a hobby?) go like so, I'll tell you these and if you want to take a crack at one, we can talk:

Scene - There's a planet with a few small moons visibile in the blue-sun daytime - it's a flatland except for the billowing almost floral protrusions of frozen geysers that can be seen irregularly piercing the landscape - the flatland itself is like a shallow muddy sea, and on pontoons there is a railroad track that traverses the larger part of the landscape and there is a train - probably really weirdly stylized that goes along this track - spouting rooster-tails of mud while manta-ray like creatures leap over it in strangely hyperbolic arcs. I feel like that could be a nice wraparound cover for a book.

Scene - some people in some kind of protective suits are climbing a mountain of prismatically lit ice - the forms of the mountains resemble billowing clouds and in the midst of these is a sea where a gigantic glass-bodied submarine rises up - with can be seen a city, lit up in the gloomy dusk of the frozen world.

Scene- People seem to be flying or leaping between blimps, they launch themselves great distances through the air and in the cloudy depths beneath them are enormous visible storms - huge cyclones that spin under them as they leap & play or fight on this flotilla of blimps.

Am I asking or begging for help? I mean, not exactly. But also, yes. I wonder if I'll get to a place where I could hire someone to make a noise about these things for me. I hate marketing.
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Conversations. Some are easy some are hard. Saturday I'm easy. Things are alright generally and I get over some bad feelings I have had and choose friendship. There's an amount of dancing and an amount of Whiskey. A large amount actually. Things go just right and it's good, there's sexy goodness at the end. Then sunday is lazy & easy until I'm called by my game-design bros to have hangouts - and I go & do - we have hangouts and our conversations are about what we make about math problems and suites of abilities & embedding the system into the setting & on and on. It goes late & good - we talk and talk and the train takes me home & I start putting plans to work - having left things go a bit.

The light train in the dark night is a right kind of scene, a good feeling in every city I've had it in. It's something solemn & peaceful - you can tell. You can tell by the lighted train in the dark city that the world will continue and there will be a continuity & a legacy - that it's stronger than it seems & will arc in the direction of strength over time. I could tell you, with some thought why I think trains and electricity give me this impression but I'm satisfied to leave it be, an unexamined feeling, a strong impression that helps without asking anything.

On Monday I work where there's disarray & a feeling of collapse impending. A sense of probable endings. It doesn't conflict with the long arc of forward momentum though, it feels like things ending, like the Autumn, like the last taste of ice-cream in your mouth melting.

Then I have dinner with my parents - the third of my conversations. It's always hard, and getting harder. My father, he's fading. He's well, strong, except his memory. And what can you do? He wants to work, to make money, to have it. We talk about this and I am into it - I suggest places where panhandling might work out for him and we're strategizing how to do it while my mother glares at me and is desperate for me to stop talking...

But I believe in him in the way I do myself, that you can be okay in the world because people will look and see you and be glad that they did, will think you're worth helping. I think he'd be okay. And maybe he wouldn't. I can't say. Should he leave the house or no? Should he do anything or nothing? There's uncertainty about the rate of his collapse and that's been a curse - My goal is to take these moments for what they are and to enjoy them and try to help him do the same - my expectation is that the worst is yet to come, the winter follows the autumn. So these times are probably the times to take note & to experience as fully as I can.

Then it's the train in the dark to home. Again and again, and it's dark & I'm tired and I think about the things I'd like to do and wish I could do but the days are too short and I'm wasting them on nonsense. Other people's. Then I read a note from the landlord and remember why it is I waste so much of my life.
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So day 4 of taking anti-depressents and I'm pretty sure that not only is society to blame but also will endure the consequences.

Minutes ago at the crossroads I got to stare down a fellow who is smaller than me Smaller & wekaer - I got to stare him down at the crossroads like you do the devil, hey. says I, and nothing says he because we are men and our language (should we choose, foolishly to speak is murder). Oh shit son (older man who thought he was ace) I'm bigger and stronger than you and you better take a long glance at the sidewalk while I drunkenly ponder the Robins1. You best know that I have the sharpest teeth of all the teeth!.

I do too. I use peroxide to make sure they're extra shiny. And straight. Oh man, I'm the worst dude to meet at the crossroads, cause of my skill at biting also at fighting and shit son, I'm stronger than you.

Before that I put in an hour at the club dancing to MJ B-Sides. Weird but DJ's are crazy. I ease into hard dance by drinking an amount of absinthe and rye - oh...

Before that I was hanging with my old lady who used to be my old lady but who is deep-in with the women and wants badly, to go be with the michigan wymnyns festival afterthought - a party I'm really, really not invited to but we have a drink or two and make some plans and she ditches me for ladies....

No blame. Right - we all want to be in our place. I figure to dare people to stop me - that being my place. I make people answer my questions playing questions. Gary effing Johnson - I dare you to talk at me about late capitalism.

In the game of questions between the Quebequious (a guy I met) and the DC transpalant from A-kron (his girlfriend) I announce that of the historical people I would choos,e to be if I coudl be - the Great Helmsman Our Grat Red Sun Chairman Mao.

Chariman Mao saw some shit, dude did did wrong for sure, but hardened his edge on the long march, fella did the things, the big things you can't image and then died out boning models. So yeah. If you gotta be a guy from history Chairman Mao is winning style. He did that thing where he made teenagers destroy society like in a Corman movie.

So that talk and then the X-Files on TeeVee and then an amount of time making my own outsider art and my own insider RPG. The story I tell is how I run for people who were at Lake Geneva and they like me better than they liked old Gary.

X-Files An episode about Hale-Bopp and the cult and I can only think about what it was to be handosome in the 90's and how easy the living was.

I walk home after dancing and talking at length with the indigents (my people the other wanderers, the other fearless broken fools tha tbeg & ask without a thought. Do you want a cigarette? Cause I do too, and also, which of the corners are the ones where you can go to ask.

Not above it, you dig? And whatever not a habit. I do what I want.

I dance till late and glare down the man in the dark. This is my crossroads. This is where I'm stronger than you and also...

This is where I catch my Nidorian motherfucker. I'm good at pokemon and fighting and scaring strangers in the dark!

Anyway Monstering.
kingtycoon: (Default)

Science! Also Health.

So back when I wen to the doctor about my buboe they had me fill out a survey - and because of that - because there are direct questions asked I got called up later by the poor young
physician who wanted to know is it all true? And yes, it's all true. Do you not enjoy things you used to? I sure don't! Do you have suicidal ideation? I sure do! All of those- which if not asked I would not volunteer.

So today I have some kind of follow up that the nice young doctor arranged and I'm going. Of course my stupid carbuncle is cured now so I'm in a very peppy & upbeat mood and I'm going to see someone later tonight that I haven't seen in too long and I'm looking forward to that - so I have authentic things to be kind of glad about and I'm going to see the head shrinker about my Deep Antipathy For Living In Society and I'm thinking about how I'm going to have to perform sadness- maybe put myself in a sad mood?

I perform cheer & friendliness, a casual, shallow good humor because generally, I won't talk to another person again and I know better than to ever demonstrate vulnerability to strangers. And everyone's a stranger. I like it that way. I guess. Probably these are defects of the mind! I'll go see this guy and maybe they'll fix me so I'm 100% always delightful instead of like, 5% and 95% bitter recluse.

I'm on the bump from having healed though - flush with good feelings - and so, like, weird.

I was/am working on the spellbook about Healing Magic- so that's a weird box of thoughts. Because what does it mean to have good health - to be whole? Like -if you could be magically cured of things well then who even are you? At the end of that tunnel? And how far down does that all go? When are you really, y'know, cured? What is the self! Health is weirdly linked to identity in a way that's hard to really get to the bottom of. But these are today's thoughts.


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