Perspective

I lost a job today. A real one, not a freelance writing/design gig but one where I show up to work and get paid in the real world doing real things. Pizza delivery, to be exact. And I got a call last night telling me that my services were no longer required, effective immediately. 

It's a kick in the nuts, for sure, but not altogether sure how upset I am about that. Enough to blog about it, yeah, but only because having the extra cash was really helpful in these tight times. What's worse is that it's because $60 went missing during my last shift there. Not that I was accused of anything, just that my services are no longer needed. Which means I was fired for stealing or incompetence. Seeing as the job was under the table, nothing to do about it. I don't even feel an insult to my honor because it's not the only slap to my integrity lately. 

The better part of yesterday was spent in legal mediation and while I can't get into the details, allow me to simply state it was a bigger slap to the face than I had expected. Being accused of stealing/losing $60 is nothing compared to being told I can't hold down a job for long and therefore would not have had a successful career as a press operator. 

But I'm not here to bitch about the details. I'm here to write about the heart of the matter. Perspective. It's what we all try to discern in times of crisis and losing it causes us to lose our identity along the way. We become embroiled in a cloud of doubt and define ourselves based on our struggles and not our accomplishments. After having my testies verbally handed to me yesterday, it's become apparent that I've lost perspective on life and my battles. I'm so unbelievably tired of defining myself by these events and allowing them to eat away at my spirit. I've spent so much time concerning myself with how my choices and actions will be viewed and interpreted only to have everything thrown in my face in a way I did not expect. And these struggles aren't going away any time soon. If anything, they're digging in their heels. 

Well, so am I but I'm also not going to focus my attention on them either. Let me focus on how I am and simply be that person, let all these barbs, whips, and chains flail around as they will. I can't let myself be defined by what others think of me or do to me. I need to be me. 

A New Direction For The Hood

You may or may not know this but I've been writing an online column for Roleplayers Chronicle going on two years now called Under the Hood, dealing almost exclusively with RPG mechanics and the industry from a design/publishing standpoint. While it took a back seat to my brief rest period over the past couple of months, it returned to the forefront this past weekend with a new direction: detailing the entire design process for a new project I've undertaken, tentatively called "Phoenix."

Check it out, if you like. Details are a bit light at the moment and additional posts arrive every Sunday (give or take) on Roleplayers Chronicle. 

40

Today is my 40th birthday. 

Ugh. Let that be an indication of how I feel about today. 

For the past year, I've been dreading this day. Like, from the moment I turned 39, I've been mentally and emotionally prepping myself for today. If anything, today and the dreary build-up to it has probably played a significant part of my mood lately (duh!). 

Why? It's the halfway point of the ride that is Life. Odds are pretty solid that reaching 80 is not in the clouds (none of the men from either side of my family have hit that milestone) and 40 is pretty much when the body hits that marker like a marathon runner midway through the race. You see where you are at that point and time compared to the other runners and begin to evaluate what you need to do in order to catch up and overtake them. What seems to be bothering me the most is that I'm far back from the rest of the pack in what matters most for the last half of this marathon: financial security. To put it simply, I have $78 in my RRSPs, rent my house and have no investments or assets. And this is not entirely because of the accident, that simply pulled the last rug out from under me (my credit score, which is now about as low as a dung beetle sinking in quicksand). 

To explain this properly, let me give you the answer from a financial advisor I saw two years ago when I was trying to sort out my debt problems. I had no job, no timeline when I could return to work and owed quite a bit to some rather pushy collection agencies. "There's nothing you can do," I was told. "You have nothing to protect and nothing they can take instead. You can't even file bankruptcy. You have no option other than not paying your debts because what little you have has to go towards basic needs and support." Ouch. And that was two years ago. It's only grown mold since then. 

My wife and I have been talking about it over the past week since I admitted to myself (and everyone else) that I'm depressed and she had a theory on why that is. "You live in the now. If you don't like what you're doing, you just stop doing it." Hearing that spoken out loud by someone else is one of the revealing no-baronets that flicks on the lightbulb. It's something you know all by yourself, but smacks you across the face when it's acknowledged by someone else. And it's true: I've never done things with forethought and great personal planning. I go with the flow and see where it takes me. If I don't like the ride, I get off and take a cab home. 

What's helped over the past couple of weeks has been the direct recognition and offers of moral support I've received. And while I generally find Facebook birthday wishes hokey, it has shown something I've banked over the years: people who genuinely care enough to take the time and write or call to offer their support and encouragement. Something about that helps, especially today. 

Ok then. Let's splash a little water on the face, swig down some Gatorade and work on the last half of this race. I hear the hills get bigger when you hit the 50s marker. 

12 Angry Mercenaries

During my temporary break from the rigours of the world, I did schedule in some GMing/playtesting for my little critters in Xenopedia. Did I simply run an ordinary game of Savage Worlds substituting other aliens with my own creations or write a new adventure specifically to test these buggers out? Nope, not quite.

For a few months now, I've had an idea to test out an action/survival style of play akin to Aliens or Dog Soldiers. While the intention was to try it out for a different, Optional System-style system, something about Savage Worlds seemed appropriate so I said, "Fuck it!" and dove right in. The object is simple: have each player start with 4 characters, each one an exact clone as the other 11-15, and whittle them down to a few surviving 3 or 4 PCs.

A tskohan striking a pose. One of the new
xenon found in the upcoming Xenopedia.
Illustration by Andrew DeFelice.

Here's the plot. In this particular version of Mercenary Breed, a platoon of mercs work for the Ryleh Corporation, which specializes in prisons and remote law enforcement/security. Tasked with dropping off a high-profile inmate to a maximum security installation known simple as The X, the PCs need only escort their prisoner - a particularly bizarre xeno called a tskohan (see the concept artwork to the right) - from their shuttle to its cell and they're on their way back home.

If only that were true. Something's gone horribly wrong at The X. No sooner do they arrive and leave the comfort and protection of their ship, cells are flung open and a massive riot begins all around them. Their ship is ejected from the docking bay and blasted into bits, security droids are dispatched to eliminate the mercs, and everything in this place is looking to kill them. All of this orchestrated from unknown forces operating from the prison's main level. The mercs must now do everything they can to stay alive and figure out what the hell's going on in this floating madhouse of mayhem and death.

Here's the catch: each PC in the game does not start out as a full-fledged Wild Card. Kind of a half WC, half extra build. They all start with the same abilities (Agility d8, Smarts d4, Strength d8, Spirit d4, Vigor d6) and can assemble their own weaponry/armor (using the standard $500 starting point). All players have 4 mercenaries to start with. Once they've selected their gear and slapped on a name for their mercs, it's go time. Right into the action. As each merc is killed one-by-one, all currently surviving mercs receive 1 point towards character enhancement to spend as if they were still in character creation. What this does is allow each merc to become more and more defined as time goes on, plus allowing the players to adjust a merc or two to suit the challenge at hand. For example, if the players find themselves constantly in need of a tech in their crew, all it takes is one survivor to slap that point towards a Computer skill and now you have someone who can try and break the security code on the door.

Not Too Much Death, Not Too Much Survival

The challenge in adapting characters for Savage Worlds play is giving it just the right amount of death. This one's key because character progression is based on mortality, so just like any other system, you need to progress at just the right level. As I intended this adventure to run about 5-6 sessions and leave each player with at least 1 merc standing by the end, I needed to remove around 1-2 mercs per session. That would allow survivors to gain a couple of skills or even an Edge once per session.

Pulling this challenge off has been tricky. After two sessions, only 1 merc has died and the source has become obvious: Bennies. Rather than spending a Benny to re-roll a weak die, players are using them for soak rolls. As this is a playtest adventure and you never know what will happen until you try it, I decided to keep the Benny rates the same - each player starts with 3 per session. Not enough to give every merc a shot, just enough to leave one of them hanging out to dry. It turns out this has become a major kink in mercenary death/progression rates and a change had to be made.

What we decided on was to reload the Benny pool so that each player starts a new session with a number of Bennies equal to the number of dead mercs on their hands. If you start with all four of your mercs alive, you gain 0 Bennies. Down to the last one? Then you have 3 Bennies to start the session, just like a real character would provide.

I'm hoping to run the third session in a couple of weeks with the revised Bennies rule. Hopefully, that will do the trick and help get me back on par with my quota of character death (which is an odd thing for a GM to consider). Until then, I'm not sure if I want to share too much of the plot seeing as I may want to publish this adventure (as a stand-alone Savage Worlds thing or a unique addition to the Mercenary Breed setting) and will need to run a new playtest to ensure all revised rules work from the very beginning next time around. Guess there's only one way to find out.

You can read more about Mercenary Breed and Xenopedia from Mystical Throne Entertainment's website. 

A GM's Day Tribute

It's GM's Day, a time for those of us seriously dedicated to roleplaying games and the craft of GMing (whether you appreciate the work of another or strive to become the ideal model of gamemastering) take the time to give a shout out of thanks and snatch up some sweet stuff from our wish lists. As a publisher, I could simply take the time and push my own products through DriveThru's massive sale but it seemed lacking of the day's intent.

Then it hit me. I don't think I've ever taken the time to publicly thank the other GMs who amuse, entertain and enlighten. So wrong and I'd like to take this time to fix it. These are the select duo who have always impressed me with their hard work and dedication, inspiring me to make my own skills better. I'm not confident enough to say I've been successful, but my heart's in the right place and that's good enough for me right now.

The first is perhaps the most passionate GM I've ever known and one-half of an inseparable pair (despite the two living in different countries). I've known Derek for over 25 years (ouch) and while we're not in contact any more, I'm not sure there's anyone else I've ever met who invested so much of his soul into his games. He has an infectious enthusiasm to every one of them and prides himself on getting new players to take up the dice. Derek is also a builder; carpentry runs in this man's blood and he's used it to create some truly impressive displays over the years. While I've never been handy enough to consider some of the goodies he's made over the years, it's one story in particular that remains locked in my mind.

We're going way back to high school for this one, back to the days of Dark Sun. While we normally played in his parents' basement, we came over for a midday game (I'm thinking we skipped school because there was no one else home) and gathered around the dining room table for a change of pace. There was a map laid out on the table and we were knee deep in the adventure (not entirely sure which one we were playing as I've never been good at remembering that part) when one of the players discovered a secret passage.

"Grab the other end of the table," Derek said and the two pulled it open as you would to add an insert. Secured underneath the table was a secret underground layer to the map, resting in secret for hours while we played unsuspecting of the awesomeness he had waiting for us. All miniatures and furnishings were firmly in place, waiting to be unlocked. And if you know Derek, you know he's completely unable to keep a secret without having a giant grin on his face. That sense of awe he created by catching us off-guard is something I want to produce in every game I run.

Next, we have the second half of the Dynamic Duo: Dave. Also someone I've known since elementary school, Dave's thing in high school was running Ravenloft and he was very good at it. Not just because there were more miniatures than you could shake a stick at (for which he probably had a stick-waving miniature we never had a chance to see), maps aplenty, and every supplement/adventure published under the sun, it was how his version of Ravenloft became our One True Campaign. PCs died and others lived, but not without scars, stories, and a heavy dose of fear. What I remember most about those long nights of Ravenloft was not how my character was scared but how I genuinely felt that our characters were screwed. In a good way.  

What Dave also taught me was that roleplaying games were stories told to an audience smaller than an off-Broadway production of a phone conversation but 1,000 times better. We all wanted to create our own winding campaigns because of his and each of us dabbled in all of the many settings TSR released in their heyday: Forgotten Realms, Dark Sun (as mentioned above), Planescape, even Birthright. None of them ever compared to Dave's Ravenloft campaign. Playing those games was not about the individual session; it was about the campaign, something I miss terribly as an adult trying to get a single story arch told in 6 sessions, let alone an evolving campaign running three years and 15 levels. He taught us to respect our enemies because they had no respect for us and he played all his monsters this way. Mortality was our greatest nemesis and the only way we would learn to respect it was to confront it.

Both of them showed how fun it was to run a game and while it's been years since I've seen them, let alone sat down with them for a game, there's little time gone by when I haven't sat in the GM's chair and hoped I could invoke that same feeling into my players.

So to Dave and Derek, out there in the world prepping their next game, I say thanks for killing so many of my characters and keeping me wanting more. Happy GM's Day, guys. 

Weight of the World

Anyone who's used to reading this blog, catching the infrequent post here and there, or simply know anything about my work may have noticed one indisputable fact: I ain't written a damn thing on here in over a month. Yeah, it's been a while and like all absences, there's a reason. Maybe even several but they're all lumped into one category. Regardless of those reasons, it's become manifested in a near inability to write. Anything. Regular readers may notice something missing from the start of this post, a signature catch phrase marking the beginning of every other post every made on this blog because it just doesn't seem appropriate right now. Or any more.

I've been having a very hard time lately. Stressed, weary, and depressed. It seems the weight of the world has finally bore down on these shoulders that have endured so much low these past three-and-a-half years, leaving me with only two choices. Carry on as I have been for some time and push these struggles aside until yet another date or accept reality and do something about it. In a bizarre way, I've gone with a lazy version of the second choice and dumped a few challenges from my list.

My readership is low, so expecting everyone to know what's going on is silly. Even then, I've never truly shared my burdens and those of my family, instead willing to tease snippets and move on before anyone can poke and prod. Big mistake. I've been keeping a lot to myself for a while now and it's taken a toll, such as...

• The physical pain. Mild compared to what many others with chronic pain endure on a daily basis, yet still an issue nonetheless. Yes, there's medication but those come with side effects as well, from lack of appetite to riding the high and the following lows when you have to take a lot of pills. Winter has always been tricky with regards to pain as the fluctuating temperatures cause the nerves to fire up or slipping on a patch of ice tweaks my foot in just the right way to send me out of commission for the rest of the day. Mix that with bad knees and a propensity to lean heavily on my good (left) side too often and you have a glimpse of what's going on. 
• The cognitive issues. This has recently become a serious concern as my full-time job ramped into high gear during the ski season. Working in a low-traffic, average office setting started out well and I was rather impressed with myself for being able to operate - even thrive - in an open environment. Now that people have been moved around and this place has become a phone-ringing, conference-calling, power-meeting place-to-be for everyone in Front Office, things have become complicated. I've suffered five episodes of what I call "fuzziness," including one incident where my co-workers called 911 when I was passed out at my desk and was non-responsive for several minutes. By the time I returned to functional, the paramedics had already arrived to do their thing and I was done for the day. 
• The workload. Related to the cognitive issues, this is more about the number of things on my plate at one time and is also the area with the most control over my situation. In a given week, I had my full-time job at Calabogie, a part-time job delivering pizzas until midnight, freelance work writing for Xenopedia/Mercenary Breed, keeping up with house chores while my wife powered through her school work, taking online classes, rough designs for projects like Optional Core, walking the dogs, tutoring and finally trying to have some time to relax and re-power the engines. I'm a very task- and deadline-oriented person and failing to keep up on so many duties was doing serious damage. My schedule was so crowded, I had to bail on visiting my family for Christmas and I still haven't had a chance to see them for the holidays (they're only a two-hour drive away from us). 
• The financial problems. I've never been good with money. Something I said last month stuck with me and has become my new motto: "I've never had money but I've always had my pride." The accident brought on serious consequences to our finances, especially when I wasn't able to work for three years and had to support my wife with her own problems. (We're getting there, don't worry.) Money was always tight and the only means we had available were through the insurance company (who bailed after two years) and the still-ongoing lawsuit. Now that I'm working from the bottom of a new ladder and still struggling to keep up with our payments - including rent - all while busting my ass to keep up with these waves, money problems have become a major sore spot. To the point that I literally shake and feel chest pains when I see a bill in the mail or try to sit down and update our personal budgets. 
• The missus' medical issues. My wife has a serious form of epilepsy (she's also been unable to work for three years now) and depression. Before the accident, I was her rock and was able to keep the world immediately around her stable while she learned to cope with her recently diagnosed conditions. Since the accident, it all became too much for her and there have been problems I will not go into here. They aren't my problems to share but the stress of knowing I'm powerless to do anything about them is mine and I'm sharing that. 

Neither one of these takes precedence over another and they all intermingle with each other. For example, working two jobs to try and stay afloat increased the pain, which bumped up the amount of meds I was taking, leading to that shitty feeling and fogging up my cognitive functions, meaning I had to miss out on some work days and not get paid for those missing days. All of this has been reasonably kept to myself. No more. 

It all came to head when my wife received $4000 from OSAP (Ontario student loans) related to her school work. We didn't expect this money and our first thoughts were on someone screwing up. "Nah, can't be right. Someone will realize their mistake and it'll be gone in a couple of days." At that very moment, I freaked out and broke down. Like lying on the floor in the fetal position broke down. The straw that broke the camel's back. Or so I thought. There was another situation but, like I said, it's not my problem to share. 

There are a lot of people in the RPG community who battle depression and I think it's safe to say I'm one of them. It's not the first time hitting this brick wall and it seems to be a reoccurring challenge for creative types in general. They've been bold and made a point of sharing their issues to varying degrees of detail through blogs and tweets and I commend each and every one of them for taking the first step: admission. Perhaps it's time I did the same. 

In all honesty, part of me wanted to do the same years ago and be forward about my struggles but I listened to my lawyer and kept it to myself. Not that I'm a chatty person (I'm very quiet in the flesh unless we're talking gaming and game design, then you can't shut me up) but in my writing. I write because I can't express myself verbally the same way I can do with my fingers. But I was encouraged against such posts simply because it was all related to the lawsuit and I just don't give a shit about that anymore. I've allowed myself to become victim to a system that assumes more than assures and let the accident dominate my life, only to let me down and leave me out in the cold. I want to become my own man again and prove to myself what I'm capable of so fuck what I've been told. I've been a victim for far too long.

It's what I learned about depression long ago - you have to get yourself out of it. That's my take on such matters and not to be taken as gospel in any way, just what I've discovered about my depression. It's about perception and opinion with little to nothing related to fact. I have many reasons to be proud and happy - I won a fucking ENnie award for my first ever original RPG design and I'm married to someone whom I truly love and loves me just as much, if not more - but my opinion is that I've failed myself and those who count on me. Kind words, gentle reminders, and coaching from friends and family can only go so far. The solution is up to the individual. I can't be depressed while my wife suffers from clinical depression, that's what I tell myself. I need to fix myself so I can help her and be what she needs. It's not something I'm saying for her sake; it's for my own and it's what's prompted me to do what is necessary for both of us. A happy hubby makes a happy wife and vice versa. 

To that, I've made serious changes in my life. First, I took a break from all writing, including work on Xenopedia and Mercenary Breed (to which major thanks goes out to Aaron Huss from Mystical Throne, the publisher, for his incredible understanding and help with the situation), changed my part-time job to another one with less hours and better pay, started working from home once a week, dropped out of my online graphic design course, stopped tutoring (for now), and started enjoying time at home without chores, tasks, or duties. The missus has also dropped out of her course and that has taken a huge load off both our shoulders. We're starting to see the benefits of these choices already and there are more smiles in the house than there has been for a while. 

I am the Warden and I am depressed. I'm telling my story because it must be told, because silence only makes matters worse, and I want others to know they are never alone out there.

(To learn more about depression and its symptoms, I found this website to be helpful as a starting point.)

Filling the Galaxy - Phase 2: Assigning Categories

In the midst of this mighty vacuum is the potential for
thousands of unique aliens... but what are they like
as a people?

I am the Warden!!

The response we've received for Mercenary Breed 2.0 and Xenopedia has been outstanding and now the pressure is on us to keep that enthusiasm going and keep you pumped and anxious for the final release (scheduled for Spring 2014).

Personally, I was psyched when this fell into my lap too. I'd played some Savage Worlds in the past and really enjoyed the simplicity and well-rounded application of the system; it felt like D&D without the same feeling of strict limitations for character development. That's not what got my creative juices flowing when virtual hands shook and it was time to get started on Xenopedia. It was the idea of creating aliens from scratch.

I didn't want these aliens to feel like "game aliens." By that, I mean I wanted them to seem like real creatures - bipedal, four-legged, or slimy crawlers - discovered by NASA satellites and researched extensively before converted into Savage Worlds stats. They had to feel alive as a species before they could pop as individuals.

Think of humanity. As a whole, we are an incredibly diverse and ranged species capable of great deeds both pleasant and nefarious. As individuals, we may share genetic dispositions, traits, and habits based on geography and culture, but how would an alien culture view us as a species? Our culture defines our individuality as much as it explains our species as a whole, a crucial aspect I wanted to cover in Xenopedia when it seemed most others did not. Information such as how they ran their society, their tendency towards aggression and/or peace, and their grasp of technology could open so many doors for GMs looking to include them in their Mercenary Breed campaign (or any other SW campaign, seeing as Xenopedia is designed primarily as an open-source alien guide).

The trick was containing an entire species' potential within four pages in a 6x9 format with readable text. Plus there was the regular format set down by the publisher and Savage World standards. There was no extra room for the extra bits I wanted to add on, nor was it acceptable to shorten the details already required by the publisher. I needed a compromise.

Cue the categories.

The beginning of each entry starts with a shorthand description of the species' general scope of government, military, and technology. These three were chosen (with some helpful input from some G+ followers) as the dominant factors in understanding the species as a whole. For example, if an alien's home world is part of one massive empire, the alien is more inclined to share certain traits and habits (such as accents and dress) compared to an alien whose home world is divided into hundreds of different factions. An aggressive species with a full-blown military could mean an individual alien has military training and combat training versus a pacifist species with a focus on education and diplomacy. Finally, their use of technology dictates their frequency and reasons for being in the vacuum of space; a low-tech species may only be encountered on their home planet or been forced into servitude on other planets.

Every species begins with the following categories: Society, Military, and Technology. Each category is divided into four rankings numbered from 0 to 3, with zero indicating no connection whatsoever. For example, the cephlon is a solitary alien rarely encountered by mercenaries in their career and many other planets believe this species is a myth - they are ranked as Society 0 because they have no common government or communities. Compare that to the hokoth and their peacekeeping empire (Society 3) or the territorial jhet (Society 2) and you'll get a glance at the potential. Xenopedia's introduction contains a simplified explanation of each category's rank as a guideline for embellishing the alien's culture, practices, and home world.

Each category works as a cultural Trait, if you will. Much in the same way reading an alien's Strength at d12 tells you it is very strong, noticing a species' Technology category at 2 tells a GM it has a basic grasp of advanced technology, but has not developed its own means of interstellar travel. Just like regular Traits, categories are freely interpretative to whatever you need for your particular sci-fi campaign.

Next: Let's get to some aliens, shall we? In Phase 3 of Filling the Galaxy, I'll show you the early designs for one of the galaxy's fiercest threats - the crafty cephlon.