For a little over the past 2 decades I have proudly been able to proclaim myself a member of the D&D community. It has been a pleasurable hobby that has lead to some great memories in all that span of time. One I have always hoped would keep on providing me with much more enjoyment to come.
Originally, I had planned to write a post today on a completely separate topic this morning, but an explosion of news swept the notion from my mind. After returning from our weekly store run I was greeted with a surprising development that, in short, has shifted my view of Wizards of the Coast. An informative article can be found here: 5th Edition D&D Announced.
What do I make of this news? Well, to be frank I am both amazed and hopeful. But one warning screams at me from the dark abyss of my mind: Beware the eggs that might seek your face. For many that comment may seem erroneous or one made as an attempt to lure you in with humor. Ironically neither are really accurate assumptions.
To explain, let me set a little scene here. Among my peers I grew long ago to be the default DM when it came to running games, especially with regards to the 3.5 edition of the rules. My players knew the material backwards and forwards, which lead to some fantastic games still spoken of often. Some of them even regarded in hushed tones as if speaking of legendary exploits. All that aside, when 4th edition was announced many of my players became cautious, some outright furious. For a long time I preached caution and restraint in hopes that with patience the new rules might grow on them. I even bought a players handbook and advocated a series of game sessions to give it a fair shot.
As I look back on it now, I feel terrible. I've even apologized to many of my players. Instead of listening to their objections I kept insisting that they had no basis and insisted they give 4th edition a chance. Sadly though as the games came and went I was quickly opening my eyes as well. To be fair, 4th edition is a fine game. Let's just get that bit out of the way, here and now. My issue is one that is based on my own opinion, and that is that it simply isn't D&D to me.
How can that be you may be asking, it says so on the products. It even goes so far as to have the same classes and races, etc. But at the very core of it, it's designed with a different spirit. While some of it's features I can admit are enjoyable - like special attacks/powers classes can employ at will or within set limits. But the sum total of it's parts leads it to be more like a super-power based fantasy board game. Restrictions like limited alignments, focus pushed on flash MMO-style combat, not to mention the removal of simple things like craft/profession skills are just some issues. Let's not even approach the economical matters we had to wrestle with house ruling.
Not every game group plays a heroic fantasy game, and as with my group we often found ourselves struggling to find within the material support for anything else. In reality we found suggestions that we not play such themed games. After 4th edition many of my players drifted and our games slowly dried up. The discovery of Pathfinder by Paizo renewed us and has spurred us to start trying to play again. And now this new news, that a 5th edition is entering development. One that promises to be everything 4th wasn't, and perhaps might prove to redeem WotC. Deciding to go ahead with a new edition this soon can only be, to me at least, a testament to 4th editions short-comings.
As much as I am trying to remain optimistic, I can still see the look in my players eyes as I spoke similar words before.
Man, do I hate eggs...
Monday, January 9, 2012
Sunday, January 8, 2012
Ambush Wisdom
There are times in our life where pearls of wisdom are presented to us. The catch, however, is that that very wisdom isn't always delivered by a sage-like figure or for that matter immediately recognizable as such. You can never truly predict who it may be that will deliver some valuable insight into your life, often enough it simply ambushes you when you least expect it.
Over the years my own father has proven to be an effective agent of wisdom's attempts to ambush me. Now my father would be the first to deny any allusions to being described as brilliant. Instead he is more likely to site his own deficiencies at spelling and dismiss such claims entirely. But be that as it may, to me, mental prowess is something far more than education or I.Q.
As a child I often find myself(as I still do) gripped with curiosity. Unfortunately for me though I also would find myself struggling through school. I can't recall the precise event with any certainty, but I can recall something my father said to me once that has never failed me. I had approached him about the name of a plane I believe, since I was fanatically obsessed with various military vehicles and aircraft and I was certain he could tell me the answer. Without pause he looked down at me and quipped: "Look it up."
Confused , I am certain I must of sat dumbfounded for several minutes before he repeated his answer. Was it a clever cover up for something he might not have known the answer to? That I can say with some certainty was not the case at the time. As I got older I heard the same answer more and more though, and I am sure some of them were his own way at saving face in front of his children. But, either way, it directed me to a line of thought that hadn't occurred to me. Up to that moment I had always gone to someone else for an answer and then accepted it as fact only to move on.
Soon after my father first said those three little words to me I found myself grabbing one of our Funk & Wagnalls encyclopedias and began looking up the answer. Once I had located the answer another subject sprang to mind, driving me to reach for another book. I can easily recall countless times where I would set cross-legged in the floor with most of our encyclopedias laid out before me. Each entry would end with mentions to similar or connected subjects that would spur me on. And let's not even get into when I was introduced to Grolier and Encarta encyclopedia cd's, much less the introduction of the fabled search engine.
I could spend hours simply looking up information, something I often would be found doing. Where once I struggled with class work in a way that left me feeling, well - let's just say mentally inferior to my peers, I was now a master of some areas. In truth, I spent most of my elementary education split between the learning disability class and a standard one. Until one day I was sent from class to another room at the request of my teacher only to find a mysterious test awaiting me. It asked me questions on areas that I had been pouring over on my own, so it delighted me. The shock was when they informed my that my teachers had suggested me for the schools governor's cup team. A team predominantly consisting of the best of the academic team, and one that now requested I join as an alternate for all subjects. Since it was assured to me that there would be no public speaking or quick recall involved I decided to consent.
Ever since then I have been regarded among my peers as a go-to resource on a number of different subjects. A fact that has never lost a sense of irony with me. And one that all began when my father ambushed me with such basic wisdom. If there is something you seek to know; look it up. How many times a day do you see someone pondering the name of some actor in a movie, or some other piece of information only to shrug and go on? Our brains are a muscle, a fact many either forgot or take for granted. And as we age it is often a boon that we owe ourselves to keep it sharp.
Consider this: Have you learned anything lately? If not, don't you think it's about time you did? It is literally as simple as thinking of something that your curious about and then: look it up.
Over the years my own father has proven to be an effective agent of wisdom's attempts to ambush me. Now my father would be the first to deny any allusions to being described as brilliant. Instead he is more likely to site his own deficiencies at spelling and dismiss such claims entirely. But be that as it may, to me, mental prowess is something far more than education or I.Q.
As a child I often find myself(as I still do) gripped with curiosity. Unfortunately for me though I also would find myself struggling through school. I can't recall the precise event with any certainty, but I can recall something my father said to me once that has never failed me. I had approached him about the name of a plane I believe, since I was fanatically obsessed with various military vehicles and aircraft and I was certain he could tell me the answer. Without pause he looked down at me and quipped: "Look it up."
Confused , I am certain I must of sat dumbfounded for several minutes before he repeated his answer. Was it a clever cover up for something he might not have known the answer to? That I can say with some certainty was not the case at the time. As I got older I heard the same answer more and more though, and I am sure some of them were his own way at saving face in front of his children. But, either way, it directed me to a line of thought that hadn't occurred to me. Up to that moment I had always gone to someone else for an answer and then accepted it as fact only to move on.
Soon after my father first said those three little words to me I found myself grabbing one of our Funk & Wagnalls encyclopedias and began looking up the answer. Once I had located the answer another subject sprang to mind, driving me to reach for another book. I can easily recall countless times where I would set cross-legged in the floor with most of our encyclopedias laid out before me. Each entry would end with mentions to similar or connected subjects that would spur me on. And let's not even get into when I was introduced to Grolier and Encarta encyclopedia cd's, much less the introduction of the fabled search engine.
I could spend hours simply looking up information, something I often would be found doing. Where once I struggled with class work in a way that left me feeling, well - let's just say mentally inferior to my peers, I was now a master of some areas. In truth, I spent most of my elementary education split between the learning disability class and a standard one. Until one day I was sent from class to another room at the request of my teacher only to find a mysterious test awaiting me. It asked me questions on areas that I had been pouring over on my own, so it delighted me. The shock was when they informed my that my teachers had suggested me for the schools governor's cup team. A team predominantly consisting of the best of the academic team, and one that now requested I join as an alternate for all subjects. Since it was assured to me that there would be no public speaking or quick recall involved I decided to consent.
Ever since then I have been regarded among my peers as a go-to resource on a number of different subjects. A fact that has never lost a sense of irony with me. And one that all began when my father ambushed me with such basic wisdom. If there is something you seek to know; look it up. How many times a day do you see someone pondering the name of some actor in a movie, or some other piece of information only to shrug and go on? Our brains are a muscle, a fact many either forgot or take for granted. And as we age it is often a boon that we owe ourselves to keep it sharp.
Consider this: Have you learned anything lately? If not, don't you think it's about time you did? It is literally as simple as thinking of something that your curious about and then: look it up.
Saturday, January 7, 2012
Perpetuating A Macho Myth.
Within our culture a singular concept exists that has been reinforced in
countless forms, for as long as we can collectively remember. The simple
unspoken ideal that if it is broken a man can fix it. Anything from a leaky pipe
to a ancient tractor. Chances are if you've seen someone on the side of the rode
and they're male most people will assume that he must have it under control.
This established idea has puzzled me for years now, but not as you might
imagine. You see, growing up my father had a simple mandate - if he could fix it
himself he did so. And whenever he did any such repair we were required to
assist him. Actually, he also insisted as we got older that he would show us how
to perform a set task once, then he might assist us the next time. After that we
were expected to be able to accomplish said task at anytime without requiring
his direct supervision.
It was this very routine that we never questioned. As I became older it became
such a part of my upbringing that it never occurred to me that not everyone
experienced the same. Ironically enough I actually came to stand dumbfounded
when I was told many of my peers as well as other people I met couldn't preform
some simple repairs. I have met young men who had no clue how to change their
oil, replace brake pads, or even change out a section of pvc pipe. These were
the kinds of things I didn't have to go to school for, I learned them before
even entering junior high.
Long before I ever had a degree I could manage to take care of a lot of things
myself, even troubleshoot some issues. And now that I have been to college I have
found with the right reference material there is even more I can tackle with
some degree of faith in myself. Is it rocket science? No. Do I expect the average man
to do a major overhaul of a HVAC system's unit? No. Should the average man
have some idea why his mower won't start or how to change a toilet's float
valve? Yes.
The cultural stereotype that a man can fix anything may be somewhat erroneous,
but it is a notion that many men out there could do with perpetuating. Perhaps I
am biased because of my background, but there is some sense of self-
worth/accomplishment in fixing even the most trivial of issues. So next time you
have a problem do yourself a favor and just ask if it's something you can
handle. You can always read a article or watch a video online if you need some
help. It might surprise you and those around you to discover not everything
requires an expensive repair man.
countless forms, for as long as we can collectively remember. The simple
unspoken ideal that if it is broken a man can fix it. Anything from a leaky pipe
to a ancient tractor. Chances are if you've seen someone on the side of the rode
and they're male most people will assume that he must have it under control.
This established idea has puzzled me for years now, but not as you might
imagine. You see, growing up my father had a simple mandate - if he could fix it
himself he did so. And whenever he did any such repair we were required to
assist him. Actually, he also insisted as we got older that he would show us how
to perform a set task once, then he might assist us the next time. After that we
were expected to be able to accomplish said task at anytime without requiring
his direct supervision.
It was this very routine that we never questioned. As I became older it became
such a part of my upbringing that it never occurred to me that not everyone
experienced the same. Ironically enough I actually came to stand dumbfounded
when I was told many of my peers as well as other people I met couldn't preform
some simple repairs. I have met young men who had no clue how to change their
oil, replace brake pads, or even change out a section of pvc pipe. These were
the kinds of things I didn't have to go to school for, I learned them before
even entering junior high.
Long before I ever had a degree I could manage to take care of a lot of things
myself, even troubleshoot some issues. And now that I have been to college I have
found with the right reference material there is even more I can tackle with
some degree of faith in myself. Is it rocket science? No. Do I expect the average man
to do a major overhaul of a HVAC system's unit? No. Should the average man
have some idea why his mower won't start or how to change a toilet's float
valve? Yes.
The cultural stereotype that a man can fix anything may be somewhat erroneous,
but it is a notion that many men out there could do with perpetuating. Perhaps I
am biased because of my background, but there is some sense of self-
worth/accomplishment in fixing even the most trivial of issues. So next time you
have a problem do yourself a favor and just ask if it's something you can
handle. You can always read a article or watch a video online if you need some
help. It might surprise you and those around you to discover not everything
requires an expensive repair man.
Friday, January 6, 2012
Howitzer Howard.
I have always held my grandfather to be an exceptional man. Ever since I was a child I would marvel at his noble gait, and the way he would humbly hold his head as he gazed about. As I grew up I came to understand that he had served this nation when asked to without question and did his duty like so many others. A fact that instilled in me from my earliest memories a life-long admiration for that service and a willingness to do the same.
Sadly, I must confess that while I scored highly on the ASVAB, a standard aptitude test given in high school to assess students who might later choose to serve, my health prohibited my desires. Now, my grandfather was not my only family member to ever serve, but out of my two grandfathers he was the only one alive as well as the only one I had ever been able to get to know. For me he was and still is a shinning example.
I have always maintained a fascination with history, ancient cultures, languages, but military history has always held a special place for me. Perhaps it is a burning desire to know all that I can about those who came before us and fought to earn for us the right to stand where we now do. But for whatever the reason I have and still do find a passion within me for knowing all that I can. And for that reason alone something has always puzzled me. All I have ever known about my grandfather was that he had served in the military, he had seen some of Europe including Germany and a handful of humorous anecdotes.
For years I would relish those small moments when I was regaled with jests about comedic events in training or how silly fellow soldiers were when they would trade my grandfather their chocolate for cigarettes. To him the trade was ludicrous since he didn't smoke and chocolate was a precious simple delight. But as I grew up and studied more and more I often found myself driving over to deliver a meal of left overs or some other little task and would set for hours just talking to him. And in all those times he never said anything more about his service. No real mention of his branch, his MOS (basically what he was designated as his duty), or even anything as simple as his station or unit assignment.
I have always heard countless tales about my own paternal grandfather's exploits growing up, but my maternal grandfather was somewhat of a mystery. Even when I would tactfully attempt to broach the subject I was never even met with a simple "I'd rather not talk about." When other relatives were asked, nobody knew, not even my own mother. To her knowledge, not even as a little girl was anything ever said nor did anyone ever ask or speak of it.
But in the last several months my grandfathers health has been declining somewhat prompting him to move in with my parents. Curiosity has been something I have always had a weakness for, so I soon found myself turning back to research. Only this time I was able to locate public records thanks to the internet. Located within the national archives was a singular treasure in the form of The World War II Army Enlistment Records File and Access to Archival Databases.
Thanks to what some might say was trivial information I was able to see his army serial number, when he enlisted and a handful of other facts. For example, he was only 19 years old and had only a year of high school education at the time. Armed with this info I was able to let my mother know at least something about her own father. Little did I know what something so trivial might unlock.
To my very delight I was asked to mention my findings to my grandfather. I will admit I was more than a little apprehensive. The feeling soon melted away when I was met with the singular quiet unassuming claim of: "You know, I still remember my service number." Instantly a veil was lifted and I was given insight into so much I had never known. Once enlisted my grandfather was placed into a standard infantry unit as a rifleman. However something set him apart, something that for whatever the reason lead him to being reassigned within a few weeks to a separate unit. That unit, as he likes to refer to it, was known as a '105.' For those of us unfamiliar, it was a unit who operated a 105 mm M2A1 (M101A1) howitzer. A standard light field howitzer for the united states in world war 2. A piece of rugged and durable equipment that has seen effective use for many years, even still seeing use today.
My grandfather's was responsible for the weapons angle of elevation and trajectory according to him. A job that no doubt required more than just a point it and pull a trigger approach. Which happens to be a revelation that has helped me to understand something about my grandfather that use to make me think he was somehow magical. You see, he has always been a skilled carpenter, one often sought after. But I have always marveled at how, almost by instinct he could look at something and within a split second comment on it's angle or distance with laser like precision. A feat that now makes perfect sense.
Another thing he said to me has stuck in my mind like finding a old puzzle almost complete but still missing some vital piece. He said to me upon learning of the national archives: "It is good these things are memorialized now. So many have forgotten or their loved ones don't know what was done. I'm glad they are recorded." The remark slowly festered in the back of my mind nagging at me. Until one day my father added a key piece of insight.
While watching t.v. together a history program was on, one that documented the liberation of Dachau a German concentration camp noted for it's horrific and sadistic events. Already thinking back on his life my grandfather said to my father such simple words regarding the documentary: "We were there." The phrase alone slammed home in me the name of a German area he had mentioned only a handful of time. A name that given the classes and personal research should of caught me sooner. My grandfather had taken part in events pertaining to such locations noted for their atrocious activities, had seen some of their nightmarish scenes himself, and I had never known.
He has never complained of his time in service to his country nor has he claimed dubious honors. All he has ever done was nod his admittance that he served and that was that. It has always hurt my heart at how some veterans are treated or how some families take the service of loved ones for granted without knowing the extent to which they have sacrificed for others. And yet some of these noble souls have done all that we asked of them, without question or fail and then simply went on without praise or gratitude.
My grandfather has always told me as he looked up from a fresh cut length of wood that if a job is worth doing at all, it is worth doing right the first time. At his very core has always been this belief that commitment to a job done right is all the validation needed. Many a cabinet or home has benefited from his belief. And never once has anything ill been spoken of his work, nor has he proclaimed with pride at his efforts.
Fred R. Howard, one of the noblest souls I have ever had the honor to know, whose blood runs within my veins. So much gratitude is owed to men like him. We must never forget what they have done. If you have a loved one who has ever served in war time or peace, thank them. Let them know their service is appreciated. Honor their memory, for we walk a road paved by the sacrifices of those who came before us. And if you know nothing of their service, endeavor to learn. You owe it to them and yourself.
Sadly, I must confess that while I scored highly on the ASVAB, a standard aptitude test given in high school to assess students who might later choose to serve, my health prohibited my desires. Now, my grandfather was not my only family member to ever serve, but out of my two grandfathers he was the only one alive as well as the only one I had ever been able to get to know. For me he was and still is a shinning example.
I have always maintained a fascination with history, ancient cultures, languages, but military history has always held a special place for me. Perhaps it is a burning desire to know all that I can about those who came before us and fought to earn for us the right to stand where we now do. But for whatever the reason I have and still do find a passion within me for knowing all that I can. And for that reason alone something has always puzzled me. All I have ever known about my grandfather was that he had served in the military, he had seen some of Europe including Germany and a handful of humorous anecdotes.
For years I would relish those small moments when I was regaled with jests about comedic events in training or how silly fellow soldiers were when they would trade my grandfather their chocolate for cigarettes. To him the trade was ludicrous since he didn't smoke and chocolate was a precious simple delight. But as I grew up and studied more and more I often found myself driving over to deliver a meal of left overs or some other little task and would set for hours just talking to him. And in all those times he never said anything more about his service. No real mention of his branch, his MOS (basically what he was designated as his duty), or even anything as simple as his station or unit assignment.
I have always heard countless tales about my own paternal grandfather's exploits growing up, but my maternal grandfather was somewhat of a mystery. Even when I would tactfully attempt to broach the subject I was never even met with a simple "I'd rather not talk about." When other relatives were asked, nobody knew, not even my own mother. To her knowledge, not even as a little girl was anything ever said nor did anyone ever ask or speak of it.
But in the last several months my grandfathers health has been declining somewhat prompting him to move in with my parents. Curiosity has been something I have always had a weakness for, so I soon found myself turning back to research. Only this time I was able to locate public records thanks to the internet. Located within the national archives was a singular treasure in the form of The World War II Army Enlistment Records File and Access to Archival Databases.
Thanks to what some might say was trivial information I was able to see his army serial number, when he enlisted and a handful of other facts. For example, he was only 19 years old and had only a year of high school education at the time. Armed with this info I was able to let my mother know at least something about her own father. Little did I know what something so trivial might unlock.
To my very delight I was asked to mention my findings to my grandfather. I will admit I was more than a little apprehensive. The feeling soon melted away when I was met with the singular quiet unassuming claim of: "You know, I still remember my service number." Instantly a veil was lifted and I was given insight into so much I had never known. Once enlisted my grandfather was placed into a standard infantry unit as a rifleman. However something set him apart, something that for whatever the reason lead him to being reassigned within a few weeks to a separate unit. That unit, as he likes to refer to it, was known as a '105.' For those of us unfamiliar, it was a unit who operated a 105 mm M2A1 (M101A1) howitzer. A standard light field howitzer for the united states in world war 2. A piece of rugged and durable equipment that has seen effective use for many years, even still seeing use today.
My grandfather's was responsible for the weapons angle of elevation and trajectory according to him. A job that no doubt required more than just a point it and pull a trigger approach. Which happens to be a revelation that has helped me to understand something about my grandfather that use to make me think he was somehow magical. You see, he has always been a skilled carpenter, one often sought after. But I have always marveled at how, almost by instinct he could look at something and within a split second comment on it's angle or distance with laser like precision. A feat that now makes perfect sense.
Another thing he said to me has stuck in my mind like finding a old puzzle almost complete but still missing some vital piece. He said to me upon learning of the national archives: "It is good these things are memorialized now. So many have forgotten or their loved ones don't know what was done. I'm glad they are recorded." The remark slowly festered in the back of my mind nagging at me. Until one day my father added a key piece of insight.
While watching t.v. together a history program was on, one that documented the liberation of Dachau a German concentration camp noted for it's horrific and sadistic events. Already thinking back on his life my grandfather said to my father such simple words regarding the documentary: "We were there." The phrase alone slammed home in me the name of a German area he had mentioned only a handful of time. A name that given the classes and personal research should of caught me sooner. My grandfather had taken part in events pertaining to such locations noted for their atrocious activities, had seen some of their nightmarish scenes himself, and I had never known.
He has never complained of his time in service to his country nor has he claimed dubious honors. All he has ever done was nod his admittance that he served and that was that. It has always hurt my heart at how some veterans are treated or how some families take the service of loved ones for granted without knowing the extent to which they have sacrificed for others. And yet some of these noble souls have done all that we asked of them, without question or fail and then simply went on without praise or gratitude.
My grandfather has always told me as he looked up from a fresh cut length of wood that if a job is worth doing at all, it is worth doing right the first time. At his very core has always been this belief that commitment to a job done right is all the validation needed. Many a cabinet or home has benefited from his belief. And never once has anything ill been spoken of his work, nor has he proclaimed with pride at his efforts.
Fred R. Howard, one of the noblest souls I have ever had the honor to know, whose blood runs within my veins. So much gratitude is owed to men like him. We must never forget what they have done. If you have a loved one who has ever served in war time or peace, thank them. Let them know their service is appreciated. Honor their memory, for we walk a road paved by the sacrifices of those who came before us. And if you know nothing of their service, endeavor to learn. You owe it to them and yourself.
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
From The Top Shelf - Part 3.
Reading an interesting article this morning that touched on a simple question: What are your favorite beginning scenes from SF/F?
Now I have read a decent amount of science fiction and fantasy works over the years, some great, some not so much. But I can admit there are some opening scenes that stick with you forever. Of all my favorite works I can think of two that leap to mind. Both of which reside on my top shelf, and both still manage to captivate my imagination.
The first such work, and one I still hold today as one of the greatest pieces of science fiction to date is Neuromancer by William Gibson. The book alone has received far more prestigious acclaim than my humble remarks but for me it's value lies not in a critics remarks or it's sales. Instead it's value lies in the story itself and the masterful telling.
For example, the opening lines alone seize me with a mental image that still speaks to me.
"The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel."
Such a simple sentence, one that paints the initial image of the book. How many times have, well some of us, looked at such an image on our t.v. screen? As a child even how much did that single sight often fill us with a sense of loss and sadness. Like the promise of so much had just been dashed away by forces beyond our comprehension or control.
The second opening scene that remains forever etched into my mind is that of Robert Heinlein's Starship Troopers. Here it is the opening narrative itself that speaks to me. I can actually picture Rico as he sets in his drop pod waiting to be launched into action. There is a certain appeal in how a trained and experienced soldier can still get the jitters before a mission. The whole description of how they're delivered into battle and everything that is done to prepare them reinforces everything to come. It really lays the foundation.
Well, at least that's my two cents worth. What about you? What are your favorite beginning scenes?
Now I have read a decent amount of science fiction and fantasy works over the years, some great, some not so much. But I can admit there are some opening scenes that stick with you forever. Of all my favorite works I can think of two that leap to mind. Both of which reside on my top shelf, and both still manage to captivate my imagination.
The first such work, and one I still hold today as one of the greatest pieces of science fiction to date is Neuromancer by William Gibson. The book alone has received far more prestigious acclaim than my humble remarks but for me it's value lies not in a critics remarks or it's sales. Instead it's value lies in the story itself and the masterful telling.
For example, the opening lines alone seize me with a mental image that still speaks to me.
"The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel."
Such a simple sentence, one that paints the initial image of the book. How many times have, well some of us, looked at such an image on our t.v. screen? As a child even how much did that single sight often fill us with a sense of loss and sadness. Like the promise of so much had just been dashed away by forces beyond our comprehension or control.
The second opening scene that remains forever etched into my mind is that of Robert Heinlein's Starship Troopers. Here it is the opening narrative itself that speaks to me. I can actually picture Rico as he sets in his drop pod waiting to be launched into action. There is a certain appeal in how a trained and experienced soldier can still get the jitters before a mission. The whole description of how they're delivered into battle and everything that is done to prepare them reinforces everything to come. It really lays the foundation.
Well, at least that's my two cents worth. What about you? What are your favorite beginning scenes?
And Then Came The Cheese Sandwich.
Almost a year ago a dear fiend, brother and fellow scribbler found his own inner ink running dry. Like any caring companion I endeavored to lift his spirits and pass on some wisdom shared to me by other writers. The advice was simple, enough so, that you might question it's value. When in doubt, write. If your suffering from writer's block, the solution can be just that simple.
My own twist to this was to add a bit of contextual humor. I simply suggested that one could write about quite literally anything, even a cheese sandwich. A proposal that has become a stick with which we now poke each other with in times of self doubt and when we need some friendly motivation. It is in that spirit that I have once again received the tossed gauntlet of the cheese sandwich.
Now, in my youth I cannot recall the precise moment I first came across something as simple as a cheese sandwich but I can tell you the most connected thing that it is tied to in my mind. My Father's mother, whom we all affectionately referred to as 'Nanny.' Every mental image of two white pieces of bread encasing a single piece or two of plain American cheese slices cannot form in my mind without it being in her kitchen or with me seeing her.
I cannot say for certain that it was there I first started eating them, but I can say that it was something that used to mystify her. No matter how many times I ate one or asked for one it would boggle her mind and send her reeling with confusion. "You don't want it grilled," she'd ask. "Nothing else, just cheese," she'd mutter.
Just cheese, I would always have to confirm. Nothing special, nothing complicated. It was just about as simple and un-assuming a meal as you can ever conceive. But it was something I loved, and still do to this day. I can't even begin to count the number of times in college or working my days consisted of the same such meals every day at lunch and dinner. Call me a creature of habit but something so simple never ever bored me. There was some comfort in it's simplicity and the fact I could rely on basic routine.
Could I have eaten something a bit more varied, sure. Perhaps even eaten out some. But economics and time restraints aside I came to enjoy the simplicity. As a writer we often overlook such things as well, just like someone asking themselves what they are going to eat for lunch. We can wrestle with trying to think of what to write or how we seem unable to write, when in truth it can be very simple. All you really have to do is just tell yourself; I'll just have a cheese sandwich.
Have the urge to write; then write. Period. It can be anything.
Hungry? Then eat. Sleepy? Then Sleep. Things may seem overly complicated sometimes when they may be just as simple as the proverbial cheese sandwich.
My own twist to this was to add a bit of contextual humor. I simply suggested that one could write about quite literally anything, even a cheese sandwich. A proposal that has become a stick with which we now poke each other with in times of self doubt and when we need some friendly motivation. It is in that spirit that I have once again received the tossed gauntlet of the cheese sandwich.
Now, in my youth I cannot recall the precise moment I first came across something as simple as a cheese sandwich but I can tell you the most connected thing that it is tied to in my mind. My Father's mother, whom we all affectionately referred to as 'Nanny.' Every mental image of two white pieces of bread encasing a single piece or two of plain American cheese slices cannot form in my mind without it being in her kitchen or with me seeing her.
I cannot say for certain that it was there I first started eating them, but I can say that it was something that used to mystify her. No matter how many times I ate one or asked for one it would boggle her mind and send her reeling with confusion. "You don't want it grilled," she'd ask. "Nothing else, just cheese," she'd mutter.
Just cheese, I would always have to confirm. Nothing special, nothing complicated. It was just about as simple and un-assuming a meal as you can ever conceive. But it was something I loved, and still do to this day. I can't even begin to count the number of times in college or working my days consisted of the same such meals every day at lunch and dinner. Call me a creature of habit but something so simple never ever bored me. There was some comfort in it's simplicity and the fact I could rely on basic routine.
Could I have eaten something a bit more varied, sure. Perhaps even eaten out some. But economics and time restraints aside I came to enjoy the simplicity. As a writer we often overlook such things as well, just like someone asking themselves what they are going to eat for lunch. We can wrestle with trying to think of what to write or how we seem unable to write, when in truth it can be very simple. All you really have to do is just tell yourself; I'll just have a cheese sandwich.
Have the urge to write; then write. Period. It can be anything.
Hungry? Then eat. Sleepy? Then Sleep. Things may seem overly complicated sometimes when they may be just as simple as the proverbial cheese sandwich.
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Morph Then Meets The Optics
Some things captivate us as children. Universally speaking I can think of little else that can seize a young man's imagination like Transformers. Even to this day there is a certain magic to the very legendary sound of a robot changing modes. A fact that still wrestles at my mind often enough to drag me(somewhat willingly) to the land of daydreams.
In recent days, I must confess I've succumbed to a fascination that no boy ever truly outgrows. Finding some older Rpg materials I have been toying with some Transformer-esque characters etc. While my first foray into such a subject was about a year ago and yielded a Autobot based Osprey VTOL aircraft. I tentatively named him "Tilt," and set him aside at the time.
With Renewed fervor I decided to try my hand at a small band of both villains and heroes much like the Autobots and Decpticons of our childhood. The rules I used were for Mechamorphosis by Fantasy Flight Games. All in all it is a great system for something like a Transformers based game. It is a system that could still use some refining and expanding, but for what it is I would say it's about the best option out there.
The teams were each 3 man squads, that I thought might prove effective PC support/filler for even a small player or two game no matter the side they might choose. For the 'bot based heroes we have: Priss, Daen, and Carver. And for the 'con based baddies we have: Stryker, Icona, Undermine and his smaller half Discord.
Priss is a grizzled vet of old wars, but one with a conscious. She has served her kind on the battlefield for as long as she can recall, until her orders shifted from protecting her people to conquering others. That alone made the decision for her, leading her to leave the military. Now she champions the defense of her friends and fights against tyranny. In vehicle mode Priss adopts the guise of an an armored bridge layer providing support in the heat of battle. When she transformers her bridge becomes a massive shield she can wield to protect others and slam through opposing forces alike.
Carver has always been fascinated by the extremes of natural environments. His curiosity has lead him into countless rough spots in search of exploration and to rescue his damaged friends when others could not. When it comes to needing repairs and being in a tight spot Carver is the first 'bot many call on and about the only one you can trust to make it. In his vehicle mode he resembles a rugged snow and mountain rescue emergency vehicle much akin to a snowmobile with a little cab. And with his enhanced onboard sensors he can always find someone in need, even in the bleakest blizzard.
Leading the small squad is a loyal and devoted young 'bot called Daen. Hard working and dedicated, Daen has always followed orders to the letter and refuses to give up. Coming from a labor background Daen has seen his fair share of work and in truth would have it no other way. He still insists on getting his hands dirty alongside even the lowest ranks and tolerates no notions of him being above any other 'bot. Holding to his past Daen's vehicle mode is that of a GINAF specialty heavy duty labor truck. When he isn't fighting he can often be found hauling salvage or rebuilding damaged structures. Being idle is an alien concept to this worker.
A stark contrast to Priss, Icona is small, sleek, and anything but a push over. Designated for scout duty Icona excels at espionage and counter intelligence. Instead of front line combat, she prefers to utilize her skills of stealth as well as a cloaking field emitter to sneak herself and sometimes others behind enemy lines to strike where least expected. Coupled with her vehicle mode of a Icon light sport luxury aircraft has made her a deadly and deceptive foe.
Not content to hide in the shadows Stryker instead lives for the thrill of battle. A survivor of the gladiator arenas, Stryker has come to sadistically embrace bringing his superior strength and firepower to bear over weaker opponents. In vehicle mode he resembles his namesake - a Stryker M1128 Mobile Gun System to deliver artillery fire at foes. But is equally capable in close range with his shield and flail at devastating opponents.
Leading the 'con-like squad is a devious figure who loves psychological warfare; Undermine. Taking the vehicle mode of a Douglas A-26 strategic bomber, Undermine delights in tactical assaults where he can deploy his trusty subordinate; Discord. Taking the form of a bomb, Discord is often delivered from the air only to use his own talents to covertly transform and land without raising suspicion. Once unleashed, Discord can perform any number of tasks for his master - be it destroying key equipment, gathering intel, or even using his hysteria inducer to compel foes to perform tasks for his master. However, neither Undermine nor Discord is a slouch from combat. The villainous leader has many times over shown no hesitation to draw his shell launcher or heavy mace against his foes. Just as Discord is never seen without his blaster carbine or short sword.
Well, there are the various characters so far. I may try to revise my character notes on them into a more cohesive stat-block and post their details later. I'm still in the process of forming a playable scenario/plot hook for any interested PC's. Perhaps you'll see something of it in the near future. Especially since I would love nothing more than to put these rules and characters through they're paces to test things out.
Feedback is always welcome and appreciated. Just ask yourself sometime, I am sure when you were a kid you probably had a favorite 'bot or 'con. Perhaps you even daydreamed of if you were a Transformer yourself. What kind would you of been?
In recent days, I must confess I've succumbed to a fascination that no boy ever truly outgrows. Finding some older Rpg materials I have been toying with some Transformer-esque characters etc. While my first foray into such a subject was about a year ago and yielded a Autobot based Osprey VTOL aircraft. I tentatively named him "Tilt," and set him aside at the time.
With Renewed fervor I decided to try my hand at a small band of both villains and heroes much like the Autobots and Decpticons of our childhood. The rules I used were for Mechamorphosis by Fantasy Flight Games. All in all it is a great system for something like a Transformers based game. It is a system that could still use some refining and expanding, but for what it is I would say it's about the best option out there.
The teams were each 3 man squads, that I thought might prove effective PC support/filler for even a small player or two game no matter the side they might choose. For the 'bot based heroes we have: Priss, Daen, and Carver. And for the 'con based baddies we have: Stryker, Icona, Undermine and his smaller half Discord.
Priss is a grizzled vet of old wars, but one with a conscious. She has served her kind on the battlefield for as long as she can recall, until her orders shifted from protecting her people to conquering others. That alone made the decision for her, leading her to leave the military. Now she champions the defense of her friends and fights against tyranny. In vehicle mode Priss adopts the guise of an an armored bridge layer providing support in the heat of battle. When she transformers her bridge becomes a massive shield she can wield to protect others and slam through opposing forces alike.
Carver has always been fascinated by the extremes of natural environments. His curiosity has lead him into countless rough spots in search of exploration and to rescue his damaged friends when others could not. When it comes to needing repairs and being in a tight spot Carver is the first 'bot many call on and about the only one you can trust to make it. In his vehicle mode he resembles a rugged snow and mountain rescue emergency vehicle much akin to a snowmobile with a little cab. And with his enhanced onboard sensors he can always find someone in need, even in the bleakest blizzard.
Leading the small squad is a loyal and devoted young 'bot called Daen. Hard working and dedicated, Daen has always followed orders to the letter and refuses to give up. Coming from a labor background Daen has seen his fair share of work and in truth would have it no other way. He still insists on getting his hands dirty alongside even the lowest ranks and tolerates no notions of him being above any other 'bot. Holding to his past Daen's vehicle mode is that of a GINAF specialty heavy duty labor truck. When he isn't fighting he can often be found hauling salvage or rebuilding damaged structures. Being idle is an alien concept to this worker.
A stark contrast to Priss, Icona is small, sleek, and anything but a push over. Designated for scout duty Icona excels at espionage and counter intelligence. Instead of front line combat, she prefers to utilize her skills of stealth as well as a cloaking field emitter to sneak herself and sometimes others behind enemy lines to strike where least expected. Coupled with her vehicle mode of a Icon light sport luxury aircraft has made her a deadly and deceptive foe.
Not content to hide in the shadows Stryker instead lives for the thrill of battle. A survivor of the gladiator arenas, Stryker has come to sadistically embrace bringing his superior strength and firepower to bear over weaker opponents. In vehicle mode he resembles his namesake - a Stryker M1128 Mobile Gun System to deliver artillery fire at foes. But is equally capable in close range with his shield and flail at devastating opponents.
Leading the 'con-like squad is a devious figure who loves psychological warfare; Undermine. Taking the vehicle mode of a Douglas A-26 strategic bomber, Undermine delights in tactical assaults where he can deploy his trusty subordinate; Discord. Taking the form of a bomb, Discord is often delivered from the air only to use his own talents to covertly transform and land without raising suspicion. Once unleashed, Discord can perform any number of tasks for his master - be it destroying key equipment, gathering intel, or even using his hysteria inducer to compel foes to perform tasks for his master. However, neither Undermine nor Discord is a slouch from combat. The villainous leader has many times over shown no hesitation to draw his shell launcher or heavy mace against his foes. Just as Discord is never seen without his blaster carbine or short sword.
Well, there are the various characters so far. I may try to revise my character notes on them into a more cohesive stat-block and post their details later. I'm still in the process of forming a playable scenario/plot hook for any interested PC's. Perhaps you'll see something of it in the near future. Especially since I would love nothing more than to put these rules and characters through they're paces to test things out.
Feedback is always welcome and appreciated. Just ask yourself sometime, I am sure when you were a kid you probably had a favorite 'bot or 'con. Perhaps you even daydreamed of if you were a Transformer yourself. What kind would you of been?
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