Nouns & Scenario Design

 “It is common sense to take a method and try it. If it fails, admit it frankly and try another. But above all, try something.”

— Franklin D. Roosevelt

I’m enjoying a spate of adventure design and writing as I prepare a Pulp Egypt scenario for an upcoming convention game. I haven’t run a roleplaying game session in a while; it’s been a few years since I penned one (and that’s still not seen publication). But I’ve wanted to run a new Pulp Egypt adventure for a while and this idea had been percolating in the back of my head for a while. I’d thought of writing it as a D6 System solitaire adventure (much like Trapped in the Museum, but a bit longer), with the character pursuing a mystery around notable locations in Cairo, but I wasn’t ready for another fully involved programmed adventure. So when friends asked me to run something at this upcoming convention, I started putting ideas on the page. It all proved an opportunity to try something different with my scenario design and writing process.

WEG Memoirs: Rejection Letters

 “Correction does much, but encouragement does more.”

— Goethe

West End Games headquarters, a warehouse
in the middle of nowhere, around 1993.

These days I’m thinking more about my time as the Star Wars Adventure Journal editor at West End Games back in the mid 1990s, before the company went bankrupt in the summer of 1998. Right now I’m still stumbling through a job search in various fields, rather unsuccessfully, and managing the discouragement one feels in today’s impersonal job market dominated by algorithms and artificial intelligence reviewing applicant qualifications. Maybe I’m too sensitive, having applied a more personal touch in my former editorial duties and having focused on customer service in various part-time, face-to-face office support jobs since. I’m sure many folks seeking jobs could have benefited from having an actual human offering guidance, advice, and encouragement. Personal interaction seems secondary to displacing whatever tasks we can onto computers...a trajectory I don’t see improving as we careen carelessly further into the 21st century. But I take some small solace remembering some of the care I took back at West End Games, working with potential authors, reviewing and critiquing their work, all with the ultimate goal of publishing good Star Wars Roleplaying Game source material.

“Write What You Know”

 “For my part I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream.”

— Vincent Van Gogh

On those rare occasions people ask me for writing advice, I tell them “Write what you know”...and it’s just as valid for game design. It’s one of those trite maxims we parrot as “advice” that, without reflection, means little beyond its superficial simplicity. Yet it’s not an axiom on which to sit complacently, to limit one to writing or designing only based on what they know at that moment. It is a challenge. Write and design what you know...and if you want to work with something you don’t know, strive to know it. Research. The concept is related to another saying worthy of reflection, from Socrates: “The only true wisdom is in knowing you know nothing” (expressed in other times and cultures by various people). And if we know nothing, we must go out and learn something, experience something, so we can draw on that knowledge in our future endeavors...especially activities we do for fun.

So Long 2024

 “Think only of the past as its remembrance gives you pleasure.”

— Jane Austen

I dislike the year-end cacophony of click-bait news stories looking back on the old year. A recap of top 10 news stories, cultural fads, and other vapid remembrances. A retrospective on celebrities and notables we lost. How various aspects of our lives have changed (rarely for the good). I also dislike looking back on my own experience of the past year. Sure, it was punctuated with high points, sometimes exceedingly positive events. But these stand out as pinpricks on the vast dark canvas of everyday life. I shouldn’t complain; I have much for which I should be thankful. Still, I can’t help but look back on even Hobby Games Recce and try to find some positive signiificance in it all.

HGR’s Notable Posts

I’ve not done any retrospective of my Hobby Games recce work in a while and wanted to provide a sampling of some of my best, most popular writing for those seeking a taste of my past work. I started blogging more-or-less weekly in November 2010. At first I’d hoped to write 700-900 words each week on some issue relevant to the adventure gaming hobby. Now the blog has more than 550 posts, with most above 1,200 words...meaning I’ve written more than half a million words here (the equivalent of about five novels). Not every post at Hobby Games Recce is my best work; sometimes finding a compelling subject and an interesting angle doesn’t quite come together (and I’ve missed weeks here and there for various reasons). Not every post engages every reader; my content ranges across the subjects of roleplaying, board, and war games, as well as a commentary on our overall gaming culture. But I wanted to highlight some of my best writing about adventure game hobby issues, both by the numbers and by my personal standards.

The Lost Reference Library

 “I do love perusing the dictionary to find how many words I don't use – words that have specific, sharp, focused meaning.”

– Geoffrey Rush

Way back in second grade, after I had so much difficulty learning to read in first grade, I remember my teacher stressing to us the importance of using the classroom dictionary. The maxim seemed simple: if you saw a word you didn’t know, get up, go to the shelf, and consult the dictionary to learn its meaning. And we rarely bothered. Getting up, paging through the thickest book we’d ever seen, and rummaging around just for a word we didn’t know or to check spelling seemed like too much effort. These days, of course, we have online resources, spell- and grammar-check, and auto-correct. They’re great if we actively take advantage of them to improve our vocabulary and knowledge, but it’s far more tempting to simply rely on auto-correct to spell words properly (and reliance on that often leads to new problems).

Art-Inspired Game-Writing Prompts

“Writing is truly a creative art – putting word to a blank piece of paper and ending up with a full-fledged story rife with character and plot.”

– William Shatner

Wandering around bookstores one often comes upon a rack of notebooks labeled “Writing Prompts” and other such inspirational titles (usually near the blank notebook section). Occasionally I pick one up, check out the exercises, and imagine how something like that might apply to inspiring roleplaying game writing and design. I think these exercises can prove useful both to newcomers seeking to explore their writing potential as well as experienced authors continuously honing their craft (although they rarely have time to indulge in such frivolous experimentation...though goodness knows I should find the time). In ambling around the vast cacophony of ideas and opinions inundating the interwebzes I stumbled upon two resources that provide inspiration for game-writing prompts...or more precisely prompts for creating source material for fantasy roleplaying games. Unlike the “writing prompts” notebooks I’ve seen, these offer visual inspiration specifically attuned to roleplaying gamers.

Persistence & Professionalism

Several factors came together last week to remind me of two important elements from my own game-writing experience: persistence and professionalism. I’m puttering around tidying up parts of my office (along with other bits in the house long-neglected in my fight against the Lords of Chaos and their glaciers of clutter); I stumbled upon some letters and materials from my earliest game submissions in my high school days, embarrassing tidbits from a time when I didn’t quite know what I was doing. My brother-in-law’s family got me Stephen King’s On Writing for Christmas, in which I’m finding some inspiration and re-affirmation. It’s all reminding me how much persistence and professionalism have played a role in my growth as a writer.

Dictionary of Adventure Gaming Biography

Way back in my high school days I frequently took refuge in the library. During the occasional free period each week (after suffering through mandatory “study hall” as a freshman) I’d hang out in the library using the now-extinct card catalog to research interesting subjects (mostly geared toward my Dungeons & Dragons hobby), browsing for science fiction to read (not much at the time), and even trying out new game designs with friends in the group study area (until a British librarian kicked us out for “gambling” because we were using six-sided dice...).

The school library had a full set of the Dictionary of Literary Biography (DLB) which, as part of various English class projects, we occasionally consulted. I was delighted to find a volume covering fantasy and science fiction authors, many of whom had captured my imagination. While the articles didn’t help my academic pursuits, they showed me how various authors got their start and the scope of their literary accomplishments. My college library also had a set of the DLB which I occasionally consulted when seeking refuge among the labyrinthine stacks. The DLB still exists today, possibly as a relic in some libraries, but more prominently as a website accessible through paid subscription. While one might consult Wikipedia and other online repositories of group-contributed knowledge, the old DLB still holds authority (at least for me) with edited, well-researched materials under a tried-and-true brand.

The Challenge of “Anything Can Be Attempted”

“Role-playing games, however, aspire to an ideal where anything can be attempted, where the player can direct that a character attempt any action that one can plausibly contend a person in that situation might undertake – the referee...decides the results.”

– Jon Peterson, Playing at the World

I’ve done my fair share of writing across the various fields in the adventure gaming hobby: lots of roleplaying game material, some miniature wargaming rules, even dabbling in board game design. Each requires its own set of skills, a particular approach to organization and execution, and a great deal of work. By far writing roleplaying games, and particularly scenarios for them, remains the most difficult. Even the most fantastical wargames and board games have established rules, ordered turn sequences, limited, clear, yet meaningful player choices, and a relatively predictable set of outcomes. But, as Jon Peterson noted in Playing at the World, in roleplaying games “anything can be attempted.” And therein lies the challenge.

Board and wargames follow fairly rigid structures, both in general game presentation and in actual gameplay processes. Some have elaborate rules and numerous player choices, but overall these strive to establish patterns of action and steer players away from the concept that “anything can be attempted.” For instance, a board game usually has an outline of the player turn, often summarized on a card or reference sheet. A wargame follows predictable steps of movement, combat, and resolution (including casualties, morale, and reinforcements). Players try to achieve their goals within the scope of the actions the game allows them to choose.

WEG Memoirs: Young Writers Workshops

Sifting through boxes in the basement often uncovers lost bits of my past. My latest foray brought forth a small packet of papers: a pile of photocopied Star Wars line art from West End Games products, a sheaf of double-sided worksheet forms about creating planets and aliens, and some note cards with talking points for a seminar I gave way back in the mid-1990s. Long ago while working as an editor with West End I had several opportunities to participate in young writers’ workshops in my hometown. As a writer and editor who worked on the Star Wars Roleplaying Game and managed its quarterly Adventure Journal I found myself in a position to combine the exciting Star Wars universe and my career experiences to inspire creativity in young people. Having the resources and professional credentials to participate in these workshops remains one of several aspects of my work with West End I miss.

In my early adulthood I’d always maintained contacts with my old high school where I grew up in Connecticut. At the time I still knew teachers and administrators with whom I could work to share with students the professional skills and experiences I’d recently acquired. While working as a reporter and editor at the Ridgefield Press – where I gained a great deal of my professional editing experience – I ran an after-school writers workshop at one elementary school and occasionally spoke to classes on various journalism-related subjects. When I left to edit the Star Wars Adventure Journal for West End Games I was a little more than a two-hour drive from home; so occasionally participating in school-related presentations remained possible. At the time my mother was a third-grade teacher in the town’s school system, a connection which also offered opportunities to talk about writing and publishing with kids. Perhaps the most interesting activity was an annual kids writing workshop one Saturday every spring. Here students from the town’s third, fourth, and fifth grades could sign up for the day’s activities, which included a group assembly and talk from a notable author, two subject-specific seminars, and a wrap-up writing session with educators. Being only an hour north of New York City, the workshop drew many notable news media and publisher personalities for some very diverse offerings. For two years I volunteered to give workshop presentations related to my work on science fiction and Star Wars. The first year I went on my own; the second I brought several editors from West End who had ideas for their own workshops.

You Are What You Read: Gaming Inspiration

Where do we find our inspiration in creating new game material?

I’m asking myself this question as I start a few new projects. I’m looking to revise and reinvigorate my repertoire of roleplaying game adventures for conventions, so I’m seeking new sources of inspiration. I’ve also suddenly and seemingly inexplicably found myself inspired to draft a set of simple yet easily modified skirmish wargaming rules, a result of my recent reading and dabbling in similar games (and my publication of Valley of the Ape to entice kids into wargaming). I’m examining both where I find inspiration and how to harness sudden enthusiasms that emerge from those same sources.

A collective wisdom exists among humanity that nothing is original, that our creations come out of our lifelong experiences, including the media we consume. “Originality is nothing but judicious imitation,” Voltaire said. “The most original writers borrowed one from another.” Perhaps novelist and Fight Club author Chuck Palahniuk put it best: “Nothing of me is original. I am the combined effort of everyone I’ve ever known.” In this spirit – and as an effective means of looking for inspiration – I find research one of the best ways for me to fire up my imagination. I look in several places for new ideas or approaches: exploring related subjects on Wikipedia, paging through old game books, browsing my small yet satisfying personal library of non-fiction materials, and occasionally sitting down to watch a genre-related video. Everyone has their favorite novels, films, comics, television shows, and games. Most folks cultivate interests related to and apart from their media consumption that can also inform and influence their game writing. Ultimately our creations incorporate bits and pieces of ourselves – books we’ve read, films we’ve seen, comics we’ve followed, games we’ve played, and an entire lifetime of original experience – all interpreted, re-assembled, and transformed into a new form, our “original” work. The more we read/watch/play/experience, the more material we have for inspiration, the more elements we have to recombine into new forms that please ourselves and others.

The Editor as Everyone’s Advocate

The internet’s filled with people’s infinitely varying opinions on every subject imaginable (and a few beyond imagination, I’m sure). The definition of a good editor remains subject to those opinions; but I tend to agree with one claiming a good editor serves as an advocate for readers, and that’s a fair if broad summary. In my experience a good editor serves as an advocate on behalf of three masters: the reader, the publisher, and the author. This assumes one agrees editors still have a relevant place in today’s Internet Age where people far too often assume a spell- and grammar-check program is enough to ensure intelligible and clear communication in e-mails, blogs, and even published newspapers, magazines, and books. In a time of relatively easy self publishing enabled by computers and the internet, many talented individuals possess the sense of professionalism to produce solid work for free or for pay without the need for an entire editorial team and art department a publisher offers.

Editors primarily seek to finesse an author’s manuscript into a format easily appreciated and comprehended by the intended audience. This includes the obligatory adherence to consistent rules of spelling, grammar, and style, plus a good deal of moderating the language, varying word choice, and otherwise helping to shape a manuscript into an engaging piece of reading. But editors also represent a publisher in molding manuscripts to fit a professional objective encompassing subject matter, production schedule, and future projects. To this end editors also serve authors as guides in the writing process and in improving skills for future submissions. Publishers often need writers for upcoming projects; the more proven authors available, the better the choices in matching writers to assignments.

The letter below represents perhaps the best aspect of my work as editor of West End Games’ Star Wars Adventure Journal in the mid-1990s. I keep it to remind myself that – despite a host of game supplements I loved writing and developing, all the interesting people I met, and all the fantastic gaming experiences I enjoyed during five years with West End – I’m most satisfied I made a small yet positive difference in the lives of many young people and aspiring writers who might otherwise not bothered exploring their potential:

Dear Mr. Schweighofer,

A few months ago I submitted a short story to you…. 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.

When I first received your letter I must admit that I was crushed. Writing for Star Wars meant – and still means – a great deal to me. I put the letter away for a while without reading the whole thing, the weight of the rejection pressed on me so hard that reading criticism felt like it would have caused a collapse of my confidence in my writing ability. A few days later I mustered up the strength to read the letter through. I resisted some of the points, but others were too clear to be denied. As time passed my bias against the other points faded and they were like crystal as well. Soon after, I began to look at the letter as a tool, something to help me see my weaknesses as a writer clearer. At about the same time my quest to locate a copy of Damon Knight’s Creating Short Fiction bore fruit, and the art of writing became more transparent to me. I am still in the process of learning. I write every day, and upon reading that writing the next day I blush and write something better, which I blush at a day later. I thank you a thousand times for rejecting [my story]. I realize its weaknesses more and more each day and I wonder how I could have considered submitting it. However, I know at the time it was the best I could do and I respect that. It was an important step for me as a writer, made all the more important by a compassionate editor who paid attention to a 19 year old kid struggling to forge himself into a writer.

I write you this letter so that the next time you receive a rough story from someone struggling to become a writer you might share with them the insight you shared with me (and keep on recommending Mr. Knight’s book, it is excellent). Thank you for your time, and know that this isn’t the last piece of my writing you will lay your eyes upon. Good luck and continued success with the Adventure Journal (it is fabulous).

The letter arrived in my West End Games’ office in December 1995, about halfway through my all-too-brief career with the company; I cannot recall if we actually published any of the writer’s later work, and I don’t know if the author continued his writing aspirations afterward. I’m grateful I found the time and motivation to write short critiques even of the material I rejected; in many cases it later bore fruit in the form of far more polished submissions that found their way to publication. Those short stories, source material articles, and game adventures that ultimately appeared in the Star Wars Adventure Journal endured far more scrutiny and much longer critique letters. All these efforts supported my editorial role in advocating for the interests of readers, the publisher, and authors in the name of engaging writing.

That same work ethic – spending time working with authors not simply to improve the project at hand but their overall abilities for future assignments – gave other writers guidance for improving their work later reflected in other mainstream West End projects. I recall spending an hour or so with an author at GenCon discussing a hard critique of a rough manuscript for a sector setting sourcebook; he was a fan, not a writer (though a talented professional in another field) who many years later went on to contribute to both Wizards of the Coast’s and Fantasy Flight Games’ subsequent iterations of a Star Wars roleplaying game.

Few professional editors have this kind of time, especially when faced with massive slush piles of submissions or a huge backlog of manuscripts awaiting their editorial attention in the often rushed process to bring material to publication. I’m grateful I had both the time and the position to evaluate writers’ work and offer some small guidance in improving their craft; I hope many have continued exploring their potential as writers, especially given the far more numerous outlets for their work in an Internet Age enabling many to disseminate their writing to a broad audience. Thanks to social media I occasionally encounter someone who says something like, “My proudest moment trying to break into the industry was my rejection letter from the SWAJ,” or “Do you remember that submission I made to the Adventure Journal years ago?” I’m humbled that I have in some small way contributed to their further work as fans or professionals in the adventure gaming hobby, from fanzines to freelancing and beyond.

I suppose at heart I have a large teaching streak in me; I’ve often considered, and quickly set aside, the prospect of becoming a professional teacher. At various points in my past I’ve tried encouraging people to pursue their interest in writing through editorial critique letters, workshops for young people, and other publication-related activities. I don’t believe everyone’s a New York Times-bestselling author, but I think anyone with an interest in writing deserves a chance – and a little encouragement – to explore the craft and engage their creativity.

Lately, thanks to contacts in social networking, I’ve considered contacting people with promising game ideas and offering to develop, edit, and produce their work. I’ve not followed through much; I suppose I’m wary of working to publish other people’s gaming projects when many of my own sit on the back burner thanks to my lack of time, focus, and energy given my full-time parental duties. I’ve done a little editorial consulting, an endeavor I might pursue more in the future; the entire editorial critique process seems much easier in a world with e-mail and online face-to-face conferencing instead of printing out letters to send off in the post. I realize I miss working with authors to further develop and refine their ideas and presentation with an eye to bringing a project to publication and (hopefully) appreciation by a growing fan readership. It’s easier with the backing of a brick-and-mortar professional publishing house (and a world-famous intellectual property license); but for now I’m content that my past editorial work and the few people it inspired remains a small candle to sustain me.

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Permanence of the Written Word

I consider myself first and foremost a writer. The fact that I happen to have spent much of my life writing game material comes from merging my ability to distill ideas onto “paper” with my enjoyment of various diverse subjects (literary genres as well as historical periods) and a fondness for ordering things within rules and related systems.

I am fond of the past and the ways of my younger days. As a youth I learned to touch type on a reliable Smith-Corona portable typewriter. I still relish browsing the stacks in a used book store. I don’t care much for and don’t use electronic devices like tablets and laptops at the gaming table. For me words set down on paper still retain a kind of powerful permanence that even words in today’s ubiquitous electronic internet media still do not and cannot possess.

Even as a young gamer I had an overwhelming need to write down rules, scenarios, and other bits to make them “official” in my own eyes by their very act of occupying the page. Nothing was real until it existed on paper in text or map format. Even when I received an electronic daisy-wheel typewriter as a going-to-college gift I still wrote out adventures longhand (and made some nice pocket money in the age when a college freshman could make $1 a page typing term papers for other students at 70 words per minute). The mystique extended into my more mature gaming days, when I typed out (on an electronic typewriter, then a personal computer) or printed manuscripts of scenarios for the James Bond 007 Roleplaying Game, Cyberpunk 2020, Space 1889, and, of course, the Star Wars Roleplaying Game. I still have binders with those printouts...documents far more accessible than the computer files (and 5.25- or 3.5-inch floppy disks) upon which they were originally written and stored.

I’m not alone. I’ve heard about folks who print out their favorite PDF game books and take the time to bind them; not just three-hole-punch them and stick them in a binder, but actually indulge in the mostly lost art of book-making to create actual tomes to read and use at the gaming table. Some board and card game designers have turned to the “print-and-play” model, releasing game components in PDF format for players to print, mount, trim, and otherwise prep for actual analog play. The roleplaying game hobby – particularly among fans of the “Old School Renaissance” movement – has seen a recent upsurge in printed gaming zines. I have tons of gaming PDFs on my computer, but when I get a zine in the mail, I sit down immediately and read it...and it resides on a shelf where its physical presence reminds me it’s there filled with interesting ideas to bring to the game table. I can’t recall the numerous free gaming PDF files I’ve downloaded to my computer and simply forgotten about after absently perusing. I print the most noteworthy and file them in binders or folders, but these remain an extremely small fraction of the material on my hard drive.

I understand printed words will eventually fade, the books fall apart, the paper disintegrate – and all of it’s prone to physical damage by unfortunate events, natural and man-made – but since such physical artifacts do not require an electronic interface to read (one that contains built-in obsolescence and a dependency on electricity and compatible software platforms), one can enjoy them at nearly any time and place.

I fondly remember my old production manager mentor at West End Games who was, in that naive pre-Internet Age time, enthusiastically proud of the Starfighter Battle Book: X-wing vs. Tie Interceptor and Lightsaber Dueling Pack products, combat picture book games designed by and based on Alfred Leonardi’s award-winning Ace of Aces line of World War I aerial combat books and the Lost Worlds fantasy combat booklets. They allowed two people to play out a head-to-head dogfight or duel without the use of a computer, network, or electricity. You didn’t need a computer, you didn’t need a compatible operating system platform, you didn’t need power. Granted, you had to haul the books around, but they provided some fantastic head-to-head gameplay in a medium that didn’t require a large board, pieces, and dice.

Don’t get me wrong...I immensely appreciate the freedom and ability to share gaming material enabled by today’s technology. Electronic publications make it possible for gamers to carry around their entire library in their tablet device or laptop for immediate reference, without hauling around bulky backpacks or wheeled dollies. Certainly the internet has granted gamers the means to reach around the globe on an unprecedented scale to share their ideas, from basic opinions and reviews to adventures, settings, and entire games. Even then, though, they maintain only a fleeting presence. Some folks claim things never die on the internet, though I can recall several items – interesting PDFs, articles, blog posts, forum posts – I’ve sought out and found no longer available. Perhaps the domain disappears, the files get deleted, websites fold. Some PDFs exist on people’s computers and tablets, some remain in virtual bookshelf libraries for future access, but they don’t maintain a physical presence and thus remain subject to the whims of the internet.

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A Tale of Two Freelance Projects

[Introduction: I wrote this blog post more than two years ago, when my toddler son, the infamous “Little Guy,” was a little over two years old (so we’re talking around the summer of 2012). It initially served as a reflective piece about a personal learning experience; I kept the text to someday use in the blog, but primarily to remind myself to remain true to the kinds of projects that suit my creative strengths and my unconventional work situation. I am grateful to the folks who hired me for “The Game Project” since they have subsequently hired me for several other enjoyable assignments in the time after I first drafted this article.]

Not too long ago I finished two freelance projects for very different clients and learned a lot about myself in the process. One was quite enjoyable, despite the initial uncertainties of what was expected of me and my lack of familiarity with the source material. One was a trying misery mitigated only by a patient and understanding editor; I walked away from it having completed as much as I could and canceling any prospect of future contract work on subsequent, related projects I might have expected.

I apologize in advance for this self-indulgent missive, part confession and part self-reflection, which might offer readers some insight into the chaotic world of freelancing. To paraphrase John Dewey, “education equals experience plus reflection.” I consider this piece a reflection on two very different freelancing experiences.

To place my plight in context, bear in mind that I am a full-time dad taking care of a Little Guy who was fully engaged in the Terrible Twos at the time; I was trying to help him learn about the world around him, and his own feelings, while he was busy testing his limits (usually to the accompaniment of body-shuddering screams); I also handle as much of the housework as my time allows, plus the duties of a homeowner, and somehow find time to write semi-regularly for a blog and do some game development and writing (with no significant output in the two years I’ve been a father). My wife works full-time in her career of choice and helps out as much as she can given her work commitments and other interests.

I have more than 20 years of professional publishing experience. Although most of that comes through my involvement as a full-time or freelance game designer and writer, I got my start in journalism, spending three years working on my hometown, weekly newspaper…two years as a reporter and one year as an editor. This provided a firm foundation for my later editorial work and a good work ethic for my freelance endeavors. I’ve done a lot of freelancing for the adventure gaming industry over the years. Like anyone who works with numerous clients on projects of varying natures, I had good experiences and bad ones, had trouble getting paid sometimes, and saw a number of projects languish or die before publication, despite lots of work researching, developing, and writing material.

To protect the identities of those involved, I’ll call one freelance assignment the Game Project and the other the Business Project.

The Game Project

The Game Project consisted of developing and writing six creatures for an at-the-time unpublished roleplaying game in an innovative setting. While the game system was based on one with which I’m very familiar, I spent some time learning how it modified rules from the baseline I understood. Beyond that I was given the freedom to create stats and descriptions for six creatures that would fit into the setting, with an established word limit on each.

The clients and I agreed on terms and maintained a “gentlemen’s agreement” about content, word count, deadlines, and pay rates/schedules. I don’t usually operate without a written and signed contract covering all the bases, but I had a good feeling about this relatively new gaming company; besides, the project was small enough that I wouldn’t feel particularly upset if something fell through.

Compared with past clients, these folks treated me quite generously with the pay schedule: half upon committing to the assignment, and half upon submitting it to the editor. Bear in mind that many contracts under which I’ve worked maybe pay half on approval of the work and half upon publication; most in the industry pay only on publication. The pay was also generously more than the usual per-word rate most adventure gaming writers get. Enjoying the assignment and working for friendly and supportive clients were welcome perks.

I’d not done freelance game material writing for a while. After re-acquainting myself with the game engine and immersing myself in the setting material the clients sent, I started thinking about creature concepts to develop. I tend to work out material in my head, let things percolate a little, then write everything out and modify ideas as I go along. This was all work I could undertake in the hour or two each day I had to myself between fatherly and household duties…morning time interrupted by requests to read books and make breakfasts, maybe an afternoon hour during nap time, and evening time after the Little Guy went to bed. Creating six creatures for the setting was quite enjoyable, the writing was a snap, and it was all a refreshing taste of what I’ve missed being out of the gaming freelancer loop. It also helped that the folks for whom I was working respected me, made sure I knew they admired my past work, and remained in constant touch to guide my efforts. I was very pleased with my final submissions and performance on the assignment; I’d work for them again without a second thought.

The Business Project

The Business Project consisted of writing short features on clients who took out advertisements in a quarterly business supplement a local newspaper was starting. The length varied based on the size of their ad, but required me to contact them by phone or e-mail, find an angle for the article (beyond “this is what our business does and we started X years ago”), write an engaging article within a limited word count, and get their approval before submitting it to the editor. I not only had to work within the constraints established for the publication by the editor, but work to make sure clients were happy with what I wrote.

I freely admit I had reservations about taking this assignment from the beginning and reasons to try making it work despite the constraints a two year-old constantly placed on my time and focus. The job had the prospect of continuing for future quarterly issues of the business supplement, giving me work, contacts, and exposure for that inevitable time with this full-time father must re-enter the workforce (though ideally he’d prefer to develop, write, and publish games full-time…). I was quite intimidated that I could fit all this around my paternal responsibilities; I recall a particularly bad day I was having when I called the editor to decline the job, and he managed to talk me into taking it (after having a weekend to reconsider).

I should have listened to my instincts. I knew I was going to have to manage with a two year-old, but I didn’t take into account the massive amount of legwork calling businesses and hoping to interview someone for an article. I spent far more time phoning and e-mailing than I did actually writing. I quickly found that business people are, understandably, busy running their businesses and thus have little time for returning calls (or reading e-mail) on a deadline, let alone during the hours when a full-time father can handle phone calls. The project also started several weeks later than I anticipated, cutting my time for work by one quarter thanks to a previously scheduled family commitment. Everything but the writing was like pulling teeth: getting people to understand I was a writer and not an ad rep selling advertising; leaving messages and having folks call me back when I was out (despite asking them to call in the afternoons, when my toddler routine allows me time in the office); understanding their business enough, and posing engaging questions to get them to give me enough material for a good feature.

In the end I turned in about two-thirds of the project completed, submitted any additional notes about the businesses that didn’t find time for me, and walked away. I didn’t like doing that – I hated doing it – but the project deadlines conflicting with a previously scheduled family commitment combined with non-cooperative interview subjects made finishing the project impossible.

I submitted my invoice and got paid about two weeks after the supplement’s publication, and I only got paid a set amount per piece that reached publication. Adjusted for those pieces I completed and submitted (as opposed to the entirety of what I’d expected to write), the sum was only very slightly more than what I got paid for the Game Project.

What Did I Learn?

Both assignments taught me several valuable lessons. I suppose I was fortunate enough to undergo these quite different experiences so close together, for the contrast between them gave me some insight into what I like and don’t like, and it boils down to this:

I don’t like depending on other people to successfully complete my job.

The number of people on which one depends is inversely proportional to the chance of effectively completing the project on time; the more people, the lower the chance of success. For the Business Project I had to interact with more than 15 different contacts, some of whom remained unavailable for interviews; this directly contributed not only to my inability to complete all the articles but my overall frustration with the job and my decision to drop it. For the Game Project I relied on one person to provide me with the assignment parameters, basic source material, and guidance on how I was doing. Otherwise I relied on my own imagination, game knowledge, and writing ability, having essentially the freedom to fail or succeed on my own. I was not hobbled by others’ inability or unwillingness to help me complete the project.

Both projects required submissions by a deadline (and both offered about four weeks for completion). I like working at my own pace toward a deadline on assignments that depend on my creativity and writing ability independent of other burdens. Sure, sometimes I procrastinate, more so when I’m on my own; but when others procrastinate or delay their cooperation, I’m at their mercy and must then hustle to meet my deadline on their casual schedule.

Given my myriad other obligations in life at the time and the fact that I had little control over my own time, taking a freelance project whose success depended on the willing participation of other people during business hours was a mistake. I prefer being my own boss and working at my own pace to produce material that pleases me, my clients, and readers. Does that make me lazy or spoiled? My game-writing endeavors work well with my current paternal duties; I can develop and write game material when I find time (during naps and after the Little Guy goes to sleep at night) on my own deadline. I’m not as productive as I’d like, but I’m not stressing to meet someone else’s arbitrary deadline dependent on getting in touch with busy people during the most chaotic portions of my own day.

I’m sure with further reflection I’ll find other lessons learned from this experience. For now, however, I’ll remain content to work for myself and the adventure gaming hobby at my own pace, leaving the often arbitrary, indifferent, and unrewarding frustrations of the business-writing world to others.

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Short & Sweet RPG Source Material

Every so often I’m possessed by the urge to ramble on about my growing preference for short yet substantive roleplaying game materials...so before proceeding down that perilous path yet again I’ll beg the pardon of those who’ve already suffered through previous musings here and here (and the most recent one about the One Page Dungeon Contest here). In my middle age, with family and house responsibilities consuming my time, focus, and energy, I prefer keeping things simple in my gaming, particularly roleplaying games. I’ve recently been exploring and enjoying a design movement – intentional in some cases, fortuitous in others – in which creators present useful game material in concise yet meaningful format.

I like to see concise yet intuitive mechanics, books that don’t range much past 32 pages, and settings that don’t require a thorough reading to understand the key points and tone. Sure, I’ve occasionally indulged and immersed myself in some particularly enticing games and worlds – most notably Wicked North Games’ Westward (to which I also contributed) and Monte Cook’s groundbreaking and award-winning Numenera – but I rarely have the time or focus to sit down and digest a 300-page rulebook or even a 96-page adventure. I want the enjoyment of reading (and possibly prepping and playing) an engaging scenario with brief encounter descriptions without all the blow-by-blow details with a rules engine that doesn’t require me to constantly consult the rulebook tome.

So I’ve happily indulged in a wealth of short yet substantive material available for fantasy roleplaying games, primarily those that might garner the label of “retro-clone” or “Old School Renaissance.” I’m not looking for terribly epic storylines or expansive location and character descriptions. I want a juicy tidbit that offers some original, entertaining game value and that, incidentally, I can drop into my own game setting or campaign. Some even inspire me in content and format. Here are a few worthwhile projects (some more current than others) I’ve found that really hit that sweet spot for my inner gamer who really prefers concise yet fulfilling material:

Dyson’s Dodecahedron: Dyson Logos’ website offers a wealth of resources for fantasy roleplaying games, primarily in the form of his wonderfully rendered maps, but also in short adventures, zines, and the Dyson’s Delves books. The maps, many adventures, and zines remain free downloads (or pay what you want on RPGNow.com); those willing to contribute to Dyson’s endeavors can pay for one of the extremely useful Dyson’s Delves books (in print or PDF) or contribute to his Patreon campaign to support his creation of new maps that eventually make their way to the Dodecahedron website. The adventures he offers on the site and in the Delves books demonstrate how – with one of his maps – one can easily craft an engaging dungeon-delving scenario with brief descriptions. I recently bought Dyson’s Delves II in PDF for the principle reason of having ready-to-print scenario materials; set up the print preferences properly and you can generate a one-page scenario with the map on one side and a lined space for handwritten notes on the other.

Micro Adventures: Tim Shorts, who blogs over at Gothridge Manor and produces The Manor zine, refined the concept of the “micro adventure” and as set out on a mission to produce several each month. In Tim’s own words:

A Micro Adventure is a small adventure made up of a few encounter areas and maybe one or two battles or problems. Micro Adventures set up other adventures. Or they can be used between or during larger quests. Micro Adventures are generic enough to fit into your campaign world with little to no adjustments.

Tim’s Micro Adventures fulfill my search for short and engaging game material to drop into a fantasy roleplaying setting. Need a side trip on the way to a larger adventure? Looking for an incident as a hook to something more substantial? Need a brief encounter to introduce new players to the concepts behind fantasy roleplaying games? Look no farther. Like many creators today Tim’s offering his Micro Adventures for free online through his Gothridge Manor blog and is seeking supporters to contribute financially to his efforts on Patreon.

OSR Zines: In my recent exploration of OSR zines I discovered a few brief adventures that appealed to my preferences for short game material. The printed zine format – limited to a finite number of pages for production purposes – forces scenario-writers to stick to a shorter format than, say, a rambling PDF with no restrictions on page count. Some zines expand on adventure elements in related articles, such as new character classes, locations, monsters, and treasures...all kept tight and tidy with the small page count.

One Page Dungeon Contest: I’ve already featured this growing, annual contest inspiring and highlighting perhaps the quintessential “short and sweet” roleplaying game scenario format. The contest gives newcomers and veterans the chance to offer a single-page adventure; while the quality of maps, writing, and content varies, the contest’s esteemed judges help showcase the best entries. A compendium of all entries from the current year provides a substantial collection of scenarios from which to choose...and the organizers are working to compile past years’ entries in similar volumes offered for free/pay what you want.

This commentary is in no way meant as a comprehensive survey of short game materials currently available; I’m highlighting short, substantive game resources I’ve encountered in my internet wanderings.

Like a good short story, writing short adventures presents some challenges to authors. They must impart a unique sense of setting and tone through concise textual notes. Each encounter should last only a few sentences yet must impart essential setting and gaming details as well as advance the action toward the climax. The short form eliminates some of the more verbose language readers frequently come to expect in published adventures and cuts to the chase: a brief introduction of hook, concise location descriptions, short monster stat listings, usually keyed to a small map. The format leaves little room for anything terribly epic in the writing, yet offers gamemasters and players ready-to-play scenarios requiring little preparation.

I surprised myself recently on the “short and sweet” game material front when drafting my recent“Gaming Artifacts: Islands in the Sea of Dread” blog post. The revision of a bland island setting I’d created in high school gave me a fulfilling sense of satisfaction. I had fun designing a map, briefly describing a few locations, and pulling together a “chance encounter” table. It came in at about 1,400 words – not quite as “short and sweet” as I’d like as a reader – but would probably run three or four pages if I took the time to lay it out, drop in some illustrations and the map, and turn it into a PDF. I suppose part of the pleasant surprise came from the feeling of writing something useful and thematic; yet, in the context of my preference for “short and sweet” material, I realize I not only like consuming this kind of game information but also enjoy creating it.

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The One Page Dungeon Contest: Short & Sweet

I’m an advocate for brevity (though my writing rarely demonstrates that). I prefer game rules (both in mechanics and presentation) on the short and simplistic end of the spectrum given my lack of time and focus in a hectic life – a subject I’ve previously discussed here – though I have in my more than 30-year history of gaming indulged in “tome” games for both reading pleasure and actual play. So I’ve watched the past few years’ One Page Dungeon Contests with great delight because they not only showcase some outstanding, system-neutral short adventures but generate a host of free material for the gaming community every year.

I love short scenario material, whether a full-fledged dungeon crawl or some in-universe source prop with adventure hooks. Way back during the 2nd edition Advanced Dungeons & Dragons days TSR released several Deck of Encounters sets, boxes filled with oversized cards containing brief adventure elements keyed by location and difficulty level; I actually used one during solo play when the gaming scene in my life seemed slow. Some TSR boxed sets also contained one-page scenarios or adventure hooks with related player handout props. R. Talsorian’s Cyberpunk 2020 contained a section of adventure hooks with a “screamsheet” on one side – a one-sheet fax newspaper reporting on key events in the Night City setting, typical of what characters might find – with related scenario ideas on the other. The company used another concise strategy with its Castle Falkenstein game, offering one-page adventure outlines providing the extreme basics of set-up and plot along with brief stats for key allies and adversaries.

I’ve admired the One Page Dungeon Contest from afar for years, though I’ve never entered. I’ve tried to craft an interesting dungeon experience on one page; it’s quite a formidable challenge. The best I’ve managed – combining an adequate adventure with the constraints of one page – ended up being a whopping two pages: Labyrinth of Set, a Pulp Egypt scenario available for free/pay-what-you-want at DriveThruRPG. Creating an adventure with an engaging concept, enticing introduction, and challenging encounters in one page (including a map) seems a daunting exercise in clear, concise writing and tight game design. The contest entries, of course, range across a wide spectrum of quality, theme, presentation style, artistic finesse, and layout. It takes a lot of courage to submit one’s work, whatever it’s comparative quality, to such a very public forum. The contest offers a good opportunity for aspiring game writers to “get published” and gain some recognition for their work.

An esteemed panel of judges determines the most outstanding of all the entries, but all submissions receive recognition and online publication thanks to a creative commons license. This year’s judges include such game-industry notables as Ernie Gygax, Martin Thomas, Steve Winter, and Sean K. Reynolds as well as several others from online communities and the blogosphere. Winners in a variety of categories can receive prizes from a host of supporting sponsors. All entries eventually find a home on the One Page Dungeon Contest website so readers can view or download the PDFs and decide for themselves which ones they like best. Previous years’ entries remain archived on the One Page Dungeon Contest website to peruse and download. They offer a broad spectrum of adventures enterprising gamemasters can customize for game system, genre, play style, and character level.

I admire anyone who enters the contest: they accept the daunting challenge of fitting an engaging adventure (map and all) on one page; they have the courage to share their work in public; and they contribute to a greater body of work available to everyone seeking inspiration for a short adventure.

Don’t miss the April 30 deadline for submissions to the 2014 One Page Dungeon Contest. Develop an interesting premise, sketch out a map, and write some encounters...it can’t take forever because it’s only one page!

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Cutting Down to the Essentials

In adapting Fantasy Flight Games’ Star Wars: X-Wing Miniatures Game for play with a three-and-a-half year-old preschooler I’ve learned some lessons about cutting down a game system to the essential rules, a task applicable to the kid-friendly tank skirmish game I’m developing.

Star Wars: X-Wing Miniatures Game

My preschooler son has reached a point where he’s voraciously absorbing everything Star Wars we allow (i.e., only original trilogy material), primarily inspired by the numerous Star Wars toys, games, and other images in my office. Over the past few months we’ve read him the pop-up book, listened to the soundtrack in the car ad nauseum, got out some old Playskool figures (and the Millennium Falcon) he plays with, and finally watched Star Wars: A New Hope together (the pre-special edition version).

We spent a day at Historicon this past July where he inevitably noticed and intently watched the last half of a Star Wars: X-Wing Miniatures Game playing out, including such ships as Han Solo’s Millennium Falcon and Darth Vader’s advanced TIE fighter. Between that and actually watching Star Wars he was hooked. Luckily I found a nicely discounted copy of the X-Wing Miniatures Game in the Historicon dealers hall; after adding a few more starfighters acquired in numerous quests to gaming stores near and far we were ready to play.

The game itself offers several levels of play, from the extremely basic quick-start rules to the main game and several more involved “additional rules.” The system includes some innovations on a style of miniature wargame “lite” popularized several years ago by the World War I aviation-themed Wings of War (an Italian game Fantasy Flight Games distributed in America). They’ve added several layers of complexity beyond the basic move-and-shoot system, including pilot actions (barrel rolls, focusing, evasion), pilot cards for each spacecraft to vary the pilot skill and actions, upgrade cards to enhance individual ships, and special eight-sided dice for attack and defense rolls.

Stripping this all down to the level of a three year-old seemed daunting at first, until I focused only on the quick-start rules, designed to get people playing right out of the box. These rules use the main ship stats, maneuver dial, movement templates, and dice in a very bare-bones game even young players can comprehend with a little adult gamer guidance. Gameplay focuses on the essential basics of movement and attack; no fancy actions, no dealing with pilot skill, no starship upgrades or special weapons. Granted, we play with lots of parental assistance using these extremely basic yet functional rules. From a parent’s perspective, it offers a chance to teach numbers using the movement and turn templates (“How far do you want your ship to move?”), counting dice to roll and their results, and direction (straight, left, or right; gradual turn or sharp turn). We also let the preschooler fly the Millennium Falcon, which, thanks to guns mounted on turrets, has a full 360-degree field of fire, so he doesn’t have to worry about lining up his target in a limited forward-facing fire arc. (It also gives him plenty of shields and hull strength so his ship has only rarely been eliminated during a game.)

We’ve played it several times, usually with Mommy flying Luke Skywalker’s X-wing fighter and Daddy fielding a pair of TIE fighters or the newly acquired TIE interceptors. With our help the preschooler has quickly mastered the basic game concepts (though his moves on the starfield don’t always make sense); so he’s recently asked for (and his parents desperately sought) some new additions to enhance his game experience. Although I thought he might appreciate the range rules -- allowing an extra attack die when firing on close targets or giving an extra defense die for those at long range -- my son saw the cardboard punch-out asteroid pieces used in some of the game’s missions and wanted to use those. Of course, they made the game harder for Daddy’s TIE fighters….

Panzer Kids Basic

My approach to a kid-friendly tank skirmish game takes a similar strategy as the X-Wing Miniatures Game’s incrementally more involved rules. I intend to release Panzer Kids in two stages, the free/pay-what-you-want PDF basic edition containing the barebones rules, several tank stat cards, rulers, and print-and-play top-down tank pieces (in lieu of miniatures kids can find or purchase from other sources). The for-pay Deluxe Edition would include all the basic rules plus tons of optional rules players can learn piecemeal and include in their game when they feel ready to add greater depth of play.

I’m in the process of drafting the core rules based on pages of notes and disparate paragraphs hastily written as inspiration came in the design process. As I write I’m finding a number of things to toss out of the basic edition. I knew I’d relegate many rules essential to complex miniature wargames to the more advanced deluxe edition -- hull down vehicle cover, static anti-tank guns, shots at close range, traversing difficult terrain, mine fields, and mission objectives -- but I’m still finding concepts I thought might work in the basic edition to move to the deluxe edition or even eliminate altogether. Here are a few I’d thought to include in the basic game that, in the course of developing a rules set for a younger audience, I ultimately decided to cut to stick more closely to the absolute essentials:

Variable Scale: I’d originally intended to include information (primarily speed and range, both measured in inches) for both 15mm and 6mm “micro-scale” tanks. I personally like wargaming with both, and have a small collection of tanks from the North African theater in both scales. But in considering what kids might have available to them, or what they might find in hobby, toy, and game stores, I decided to cut references to the 6mm scale. I’ll include some top-down pieces kids can print and play with in lieu of actual miniatures, but will relegate the 6mm information as an optional appendix in the deluxe version of the game.

Deployment Options: In determining how players set up games, I’d devised a few alternatives to the basic “put your tanks along your edge of the battlefield” strategy reflecting the terrain set-up and any slight disparity in the total unit point costs between Axis and Allied player forces. For instance, with cover terrain set up along the middle of the play area, the side with the slightly lower total point cost might deploy tanks up to 12 inches from their edge of the board. In writing these conditions out, however, I realized it might be too much for kids to comprehend amidst all the other nuances of miniature wargame rule. These options might go into a sidebar in the deluxe rules’ movement section, but they don’t belong in the basic game.

Unit Point Cost: The gamer in me insisted on rating each tank type with a “cost” to field it, a value reflecting its firepower, armor, and speed. Theoretically this helps each side build a force of relatively equal strength to make sure each has a fair chance of winning. But when I took a closer look comparing Axis and Allied tanks, I realized they had fairly close values. Rather than spend an entire section explaining the concept of unit point costs and balancing forces, I cut it and instead offered some suggestions for Axis and Allied tank face-offs (mostly from the North African theater). Most represent equivalent numbers of tanks (3 German Pkw IIIs against 3 British Crusader IIs), though the one exception proved the Pkw VI Tiger tank, which I paired against two M3 Stuart tanks.

Two miniature wargaming concepts remain essential to playing the game beyond simply moving and shooting in the open: line of sight and cover. Both might seem too complex to include in the basic edition, but through playtesting I realized they really form the core of tactical decisions for a small skirmish. Players need to maneuver their tanks around the available cover (mostly hills and oases in my desert games) to hide from enemy tanks and gain some small advantage from cover.

I also realize these rules remain bound to other constraints I’ve placed on myself, notably some foundation in the tanks’ historical performance (demonstrated in the tank stats themselves) and a desire to introduce young gamers to wargaming concepts one degree beyond simply moving and shooting. I have also, rather foolishly I might argue, taken on the challenge of trying to draft a set of miniature wargame rules intended for kids 10 and older to pick up on their own, learn, and play without adult supervision. Old Dominion GameWorks’ Mein Panzer Junior offers a set of basic move-and-shoot tank rules with some slightly more complex stages; but it presumes involvement and supervision from a miniature wargames-informed adult. (Downloading these free rules requires registration at the ODGW website.)

  

We’ll see how my continued development and writing for the Panzer Kids rules challenges my ability to hone rules down to their bare minimum while still clearly and concisely explaining game concepts to a younger audience.

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