Making the jump from casual/for-fun writing to being a published author is . . . well, it’s fun. It’s terrifying. It’s great and it’s awful. You go from being nervous while your friend reads your fanfic to being nervous while you wait for the publisher to send back edits.
Over the last almost-year, basically all of our socializing has gone online out of necessity.
There are a lot of positive points to that. We’ve got “party” setups for streaming services, businesses and events are learning how to manage online counterparts, and a lot of us are becoming versed in streaming.
But with that increased connectivity comes a new wave of issues to navigate—among them the blurring line between the social and the parasocial.
I was planning to play Cyberpunk 2077. I’d even pre-ordered it on Steam. I was aware of the issues—both content and coding—and I wanted to play it myself and review it. The good, the bad, and the ugly. But after reading an early review, I discovered that might be difficult, if not dangerous for me.
Thing is, I have epilepsy, and I like video games.
Right now, the world seems kind of unfair. There are some things we can affect, but there are also a lot of things we can’t. What do you do when you’re feeling helpless? Take in a few murder mysteries.
No, really.
I wear a lot of different hats at work, so I get asked a lot of different questions. How do I get a book published? How do I submit a story to a news website? How do I avoid being nervous when faced with my favorite celebrity? (I still don’t know the answer to that last one, sorry.) But the question I get asked most of all is: How do I get started drinking tea?
For the longest time in tabletop games, I made sure to give my characters high Intelligence and Wisdom scores. I suppose I figured I could handle being clumsy or a bad fighter or uncharismatic better than I could handle being unobservant. But in my most recent campaign (5e, Forgotten Realms, for the curious) I bit the bullet. I did the thing. I decided to play The Dumb One.
To be fair, memes I’d seen in the past were focused on how to “cope” with rolling up low INT or WIS scores: how to “punish” the DM for not letting you buff them up at the beginning by overplaying your character’s foolishness to a game-breaking degree. But watching other people address their characters with full enjoyment (see Egbert the Careless) got me to give it a go. And if you haven’t given it a go, you should. I promise, the whiffed Perception and Insight checks are worth it.
I’m not new to tabletop gaming (I’m not an old hand, but I’ve been in a few games before)… but in this particular game, I knew literally no one except for the DM. I was coming in when everyone else had worked their way up to Level 6 in-game, working my way into a party that had already had adventures together and built up friendships, and I felt super awkward. I knew that awkwardness would probably come through as I attempted to become a part of the group.
Having a character who just, by nature of her personality, didn’t catch on to things gave me room to ride out those first few sessions. Getting the hang of a new character, a new game, and a new social circle is a lot, but I could work any of my anxiety-driven absentmindedness into my new bard. Whether that’s your story, or you’re new to gaming in general, it definitely gives you wiggle room to find your way.
As a writer, I love “big picture” thinking. In another game I’m playing (in which I play a Halfling Cleric who may be pulling a Martin Luther pretty soon), I have to compartmentalize what she knows and understands, and what I know and understand. Even with fairly standard stats, I have to decide on the fly what she personally would glean from visions and records and intel, based on where I feel her story arc may be going.
Not so for Typhoon Macroburst, Air Genasi Bard. She lives in the here and now, with her main focus being going to cool parties and escaping her surprise arranged marriage. Do I have some idea of where her story may be going? Of course: I know our DM, and we have shared influences when it comes to entertainment. But I never once have to question whether Ty would have those same ideas. She absolutely wouldn’t—which forces me to play more in the moment and find the fun already in front of us.
When your character is already inclined to trip over their own feet or not see what’s right in front of their nose, that dreaded 1 feels a lot less dire (when it’s not a Saving Throw, at least). Ty can take a crit botch in stride… and even play it off in character, because there will definitely be something else attracting her attention at any given moment.
On the other hand, that Nat 20 is mind-blowing, because it’s neither necessary nor expected. Come to that, high rolls in general are just a bonus treat, because it’s like she’s had a magic moment of clarity. It may never come again, but for one second, she was putting in maximum effort. Dice rolls are always going to be stressful, but the encouragement to play off a bad roll rather than dread it is always good.
Sometimes characters are just doofy. (See, again, Egbert the Careless.) But what does that mean for them? Is there a psychological reason? A medical reason? Is there literally no reason? Is it something they embrace, or something they wish they didn’t have to deal with? What does this mean for family and friend interactions?
A good gaming party embraces each other’s differences and has fun with them, which can (and likely will) be very different to whatever happened in their back story. In the case of Ty, it’s a major part of why she’s out in the wide, weird world in the first place. The party understands and cares about her, in sharp contrast to her family. But just how much that means to her (and what it has to do with the current events of the story) isn’t out there to the other players yet… and it’s going to be very interesting when it is. Similarly, there are compelling (or funny, or sweet, or sad) ways this stat can work into your character’s story.
When I say “braver” here, that’s not to imply everyone isn’t already doing crazy things. (Have you seen most D&D parties?) But if your character is basically up for everything and leaves the thinking to the rest of the group, the suggestions will come out, and they will be fun. Case in point, our druid polymorphing my bard into a T-rex during a battle. Why? It’s fun, and she would definitely be up for it.
What’s kept me going at least during this time is gaming sessions where we can blow off steam, have fun, and where the problems of our fantasy world don’t bear any resemblance at all to the problems of our real world. And stepping outside my comfort zone character-wise has helped with that immensely; seeing other people take something I’d been told by other players was a punishment, and turning it to big fun. And then doing it myself.
So next game… take the negative modifier. Have fun.
We could all use a breather right now, couldn’t we? Just some time to sit down, collect our thoughts, and take in a mug of our warm beverage of choice. There’s nothing quite like the ambiance of a café and the camaraderie of a familiar barista. Failing that at the moment, there’s always Coffee Talk.
My friend Ginger and I go a long time between in-person visits as it is: she’s in Illinois and I’m in Virginia. So we’re used to not hanging out face-to-face except once a year or so. Our next visit was planned for, well, literally right now. And, unfortunately, we knew months ago that this would probably not happen.
Right now, most of us have a little extra time (at least) to take in some new movies or shows. The recommendations I’ve been seeing around the Internet—including here at The Sartorial Geek!—are just fantastic and worthy of your time. But there’s one lovely movie still floating just under the radar that deserves your attention now that you’re in need of a good watch.
Ten years ago, Ashes to Ashes aired its final episode, closing the curtain on a five-season metaseries that kicked off with 2006’s Life on Mars. The pair of BBC series followed Sam Tyler and Alex Drake—two modern-day police officers whose respective brushes with death sent them on time-traveling odysseys to the eras of their childhoods. After by-the-book Sam Tyler navigated the rough-and-tumble world of 1973 Manchester, Alex Drake navigated being the sole female officer in 1981’s Fenchurch East police station. And in both cases, Sam and Alex found themselves on the turf of DCI Gene Hunt: tough and arrogant on the surface, but driven by a strong sense of justice.