Every year as July approaches I get a little glum about the summer of
1998 when West End Games filed for bankruptcy and pulled the rug out
from under numerous employees, creative freelance writers and
artists, and fans of the company’s groundbreaking Star Wars
roleplaying game. “Consider yourselves unemployed,” was how the
company’s owner initially broke the news to the puzzled editors,
graphic designers, and sales personnel unexpectedly summoned to his
office. These annual, bittersweet recollections send me into a spiral
of memories from which I can usually extricate myself by focusing on
the positive aspects of that time. During my five years at West End I
worked on many projects that still make me smile with a proud sense
of satisfaction: certainly The Official Star Wars Adventure
Journal; Platt’s Starport Guide; the
revised and expanded version of the game’s second edition; the
Star Wars Introductory Adventure Game (and similar products
for the Men in Black and Hercules & Xena game
lines); numerous solitaire tutorial adventures (including the
standalone book Imperial Double-Cross); and a revision of the
roleplaying game’s Star Wars Style Guide that helped authors
with all aspects of the submission and writing process (which notably
resurfaced a few years ago on the interwebzes as the guide George
Lucas supposedly ignored when making the prequels, certainly not
its original intention). It was a dream job, despite constant
anxiety, vicious office politics, and what I expect are the general
idiocies that plague any modern American workplace. But the occasion
also gives me an opportunity to reflect on the many good things West
End brought into my life and other people’s lives.
* Badges and programs from numerous conventions, including GenCon and
smaller, regional cons where I entertained attendees as a guest and
ran numerous game sessions.
* A letter and some photos from a New York Times best-selling
Star Wars author thanking me for inviting him to a dinner I
hosted at DragonCon in 1995 for Star Wars Adventure Journal
authors and artists.
* Numerous Lucasfilm holiday cards, often with playfully appropriate
Star Wars artwork.
* A thank-you card from a Bantam Star Wars editor I invited to
the dinner I hosted for 50 or so West End Staffers and Journal
freelancers, artists, and other contributors in the Hyatt’s
revolving restaurant at GenCon 1996.
* Copies of positive magazine reviews of my work at West End, both
for the Journal and the Star Wars Introductory Adventure
Game. “I’ve paid twice as much for products with half the
substance of one Star Wars Adventure Journal” (Pyramid
Magazine). “[The Star Wars Introductory Adventure Game]
is about as clearly explained an introduction to roleplaying as you
could imagine; everything is approached clearly and methodically and,
a lot of the time, entertainingly” (Arcane Magazine).
Some of the correspondence
helped remind me about my role
in giving talented fans a chance to write and illustrate for their
favorite galaxy far, far away. [Names
have been redacted to protect the innocent...and if they manage to
see this blog entry in all the vast, cacophonous clutter of the
interwebzes, then I hope in their anonymity they accept my apologies
and perhaps smile slightly with fond remembrance.]
I’ve previously discussed how some authors responded to the lengthy
rejection letters I sent them, replete with detailed critique of
their writing (“Upon rejecting my story, you wrote me a
three and a half page letter explaining why it was not up to the
standards of the Star Wars Adventure Journal. I thank you for
that. You see, it would have been just as easy for you to have sent
me a form letter, but instead you paid close attention to what needed
improving in my story and in my writing in general.”). Here’s
another I discovered from 1994 that’s typical of the letters I
sometimes
received
from authors whose work I critiqued and rejected:
I just wanted to write to thank you for the prompt response you gave to my submitted story.... I appreciate the time and effort you took to write a personal response instead of sending the traditional form letter. In retrospect I found myself agreeing with most of your objections. The Adventure Journal is a wonderful periodical, and I hope you are able to continue it long after Mr. Lucas’ next trilogy. Thanks again.
Sometime in 1995 I received the following letter that – reading it
all these years later – reminded me how my role in the then-growing
Star Wars franchise could have a positive impact on people’s
lives:
Dear Peter:
My name is [XXXXX], and I’m [YYYYY]’s fiancee. I just wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done for him. It’s nice to know that because of you, he’s been published both as an author and an artist in something that he truly loves – Star Wars, and that my theories about him are true. I guess I am biased in thinking he’s a genius, but hey, that’s what a fiancee’s for.
By the way, no matter what you think, [YYYYY] did not put me up to this note. I’m proud enough of him and his success that he doesn’t have to be!
And then, of course, there are the regret-filled well-wishes upon
hearing news of West End’s demise:
Dear Pete,
I heard the sad news about West End Games. What a shame! So may good things came out of your hard work. I appreciate all the help and constructive criticism you have offered over the years. And I thank you for giving me a chance to be a part of the Star Wars universe. I have met so many wonderful people along the way. It has been an exciting ride.
A freelancer made a card from some wonderfully appropriate Mike
Vilardi artwork of a drone taking out a bounty. They were obviously
aware – as many others would become – of the incestuous business
relationship between West End and its parent shoe company, Bucci
Imports. On the cover it read, “Bucci Imports gives WEG employees a
pat on the back for a job well done.” On the inside: “At least
the REST of us appreciate you!” A longer note was tucked inside the
card with a few choice sentiments:
I’m dismayed and terribly saddened by this whole situation. You folks at West End Games have done more to expand, add depth, and watchdog the continuity of the SW universe than anyone, and it’ll be a shame if this is how all your hard work ends. The Journal in particular was my favorite as the only place to find all-new, original short stories that didn’t revolve around the Big Three or brief scenes from the movies. It was also the only way to get backstories on some of my favorite secondary characters introduced in the novels.... You guys did a terrific job; be proud! I and a lot of other people will miss you.
The legacy of West End’s Star Wars Roleplaying Game
continues to grow beyond us. What does it say when numerous online
groups still play, discuss, and develop material for the game? How
have D6 System games evolved and spread since then? Why does
the current Star Wars roleplaying game license holder think
it’s important to release an anniversary, slipcase edition of the
original rulebook and sourcebook? Why do we continue seeing
references to setting elements West End created in the Rebels
series and even Solo: A Star Wars Story even after the
“Expanded Universe” continuity was dismissed? The West End Games
I worked for may be 20 years dead, its talented staff scattered to
the four winds, but its inspiring legacy continues far beyond what we
could have imagined. It bears a moment of remembrance and reflection
that we might find some positive inspiration for our lives today.
