What A&E Does for Me — Jim Vassilakos
There appears to be a certain addiction
involved with the APA, an addiction
of the contributors to contribute. I
mean, there is a compulsion, I think,
to take part in some form of
community regarding a pastime with
which one finds endlessly fascinating.
As Patrick mentioned, last issue, there
is something special about A&E or
else we wouldn’t keep coming back.
After all, The Internet is cheaper and
is, for most of us, I’d presume, readily
accessible. It’s there, 24/7, and the
types of interaction are plentiful, from
Mailing Lists, to PBeMing to
Blogging to other, less common
methods. And I’m sure that most of us
make use of these to some extent, yet
we keep coming back here, to this
long-running, paper-and-ink
monstrosity. Why is that?
Partly, I think, it’s because A&E is
an established community of those
who wish to take part in it. It has
longevity, long-time members, people
who return month after month as a sort
of ritual of their lives, an activity they
found somehow important enough to
take part in, not merely once but as a
recurring withdraw on the finite time
that we all have. That’s quite a thing.
Is it merely because we desire to be
heard? Or is it because we wish to be
part of such a community, to exchange
our thoughts… or, perhaps, to confess
our sins?
Opinions are like sins, I suppose.
They detract from that negligible
quality we all have aside from them.
Indeed, opinions expose everything
about us in all our ignoble glory. They
announce to others what will often
appear ugly blemishes, either because
we find someone’s opinion an affront
to our better-considered sensibilities,
thereby igniting our scorn or, perhaps,
even our wrath, or because we simply
think we know better, perhaps because
of some divine grace that we alone
inherently possess.
I can see, in part, why people were
angry with Ty, because his opinions
were stated with such certainty as to
be perceived as arrogant. But, I think
people who seem arrogant can still
have opinions worth considering, and
listening to what they have to say can
often be illuminating, in part as a
consequence of the passion they apply
to their arguments. They’re not trying
to trick us into believing something
that’s wrong. They’re trying to
convince us of something that they
believe is right. There’s a big
difference.
So, I think if one passionately
disagrees (which is at some point
inevitable), that it perhaps makes more
sense to reply, “What you are saying
is very silly, you know,” than to be
genuinely angry, because, for fuck’s
sake, we’re all roleplayers, are we
not? We’re all roleplayers who deem
fit to spend part of our lives writing
these zines, for no more apparent
reason than to reach out to one
another, pontificate and be
pontificated to, teach, learn, think,
grow. That’s what I think we are
doing. At least, it is what I am trying
to do.
This is why I am pained whenever
one of us leaves, particularly one of us
who has gotten into more than merely
gaming topics, and it is why I grow
even more distressed when one of us
is being shunned in the direction of the
door. It’s annoying enough even when
those who shun have a legitimate
grievance, but when they are reduced
to hurling personal insults…and then
when someone leaves as a result…
there is a loss that occurs…more than
a loss, really…it’s more like a blemish
of our collective, a fight that we’ve
written down in our own words, some
participating, others standing-by,
mute, perhaps disinterested…perhaps
not seeing the point of posting yet
another opinion in what has become
an increasingly destructive
conversation.
But what really burns me most is
when that target/victim leaves, not
SHOUTING AT THE TOP OF HIS
LUNGS like some in our past have
done when they have departed, but
rather when he withdraws like a
gentleman, tactfully, perhaps with the
notion of returning at a later date, and,
at any rate, cognizant of there being
no point in prolonging an unnecessary
argument.
Why should this make me angry?
What business is it of mine? It’s my
business because I feel very strongly
that when we let this happen, we are,
each of us, culpable.
To tell people to leave… to tell them
that you hate their humor… that their
opinions are idiotic… all the things
that get said here… it reminds me of
caged monkeys throwing their feces at
each other. Now there’s a novel way
of expressing one’s disapproval! But
in the case of the monkeys, it’s even
more understandable because they’re
driven insane by their confinement,
and, obviously, they can’t talk. All
they have are their actions, including
their screeches of one emotional state
or another. (“Eeeeek-eeeek… you are
really pissing me off!”)
But we have words, and just as with
our actions, we can choose them. We
can cultivate, or we can burn. It’s all a
matter of choice. And some of us
choose the latter.
Hence, when someone leaves for
these reasons, and they leave quietly,
not screaming abuses, it fills me with
a feeling of despondence, not because
they didn’t fight back, but because
they rationally decided that fighting
with monkeys is a pointless endeavor,
and that life is too short to be wasted
here dealing with people who ought to
know better but for some reason
apparently don’t.
Now what were those exact words
just one more time?
“Could your zine be any more
dull?”
Joshua, what was it exactly that set
you off? I mean, seriously…what was
it exactly that you were shooting for?
Did you think he’d read your
comment and be thinking to himself,
“Well, gee…is my zine really dull?
Wow. I didn’t realize that. Hmm…
thanks, Josh! Your comment is so
helpful. Thank you for taking the time
and the space in your zine to let me
know that I’m wickedly dull and
unfunny. You, my friend, are a real
pal.”
Was that your idea? Or was it
something more along the lines of…”I
don’t like him (for whatever reason),
so I’m just going to vent some abuse
in his direction because I feel like it.”
I really want to understand what set
you off. I mean, you don’t normally
hurl abuse at people. What did Louis
say that made you so angry?
And, of course, I don’t wish to
imply that members don’t have the
right to criticize one another, because
only through criticism can we really
be jarred into re-thinking our basic
assumptions, but it is to say that
there’s a right way and a wrong way,
and A&E has occasionally gone the
wrong way, and this is particularly
true with respect to Louis. He’ll be
back, he tells me, but for now he’s got
other interests which beckon, and
that’s really easy to decide when
someone starts throwing shit at you.
I cannot really express the depth of
my disappointment, aside from writing
down my thoughts in this format and
discussing what I feel about them, but
one unwelcome realization I have
come to is that I'm feeling increasingly
bitter against the APA for what it does
to new people who decide to open up
enough to speak their mind about
things that matter to them. If that was
too rambling, let me put it another
way. I think this, what we are doing
here, has as much to do with the
writing as it has to do with the
reading.
Patrick Riley asked a really good
question in terms of what A&E does
for each one of us, but he asked it
from the point of view of the readers
rather than the writers. He said, if I am
reading him correctly, that when it
comes to campaign write-ups, what is
most interesting to read are those
which provides insight into the
players’ or the GM’s perspective of
the campaign. He also likes system
design discussions. “What do you like
to read?” he asks.
Well, I like that also, absolutely, but
I also like Louis’ joke of the month,
and I like the monthly picture of
A&E’s favorite daughter… there she
is like clockwork, each month
growing up just a little bit more… and
I like Ty when he’s talking about
Traveller or ranting about politics, and
I like Paul when he’s pontificating
about the nature of roleplaying, and I
like Spike when he’s being erudite on
a topic that he knows very, very well,
and Louis again when he’s making
predictions… certainty rising in his
tone from the phenomena of having
been right before. I like Brian Rogers
when he’s discussing one of his
enviably multitudinous campaigns or
when his wife jumps in to say that
she’s still putting up with him (was
never a better woman save, perhaps,
for my wife who is, quite
miraculously, still putting up with
me). I like Michael Cule when he’s
telling us about his employment woes,
the little anecdotes of his life, as well
as whatever latest snappy lines
emerged from the mouths of his party
of perspicacious players. And I like
the wealth of material that Misiaszek
puts into his zines, whether a
campaign write-up or product review
or convention report or perhaps all of
the above. And to those I didn’t
mention, well, it’s because this is
already a longish paragraph, and I
don’t see the point of going on
forever.
From the point of view of being a
reader, there’s a lot to enjoy, but from
the point of view of being a
contributor, I’d have to say that there’s
a great deal more. As a reader, of
course, I prefer what’s usable, and
given the segmentation of the market,
which I commented to Louis about
last issue, what’s most generally
usable would seem to be the campaign
anecdotes where we can draw, as
Patrick indicates, some sort of insight
into the players’ or GM’s experience
of the campaign, in short, the parts
where we can ponder and perhaps
learn something. System-related
articles, as well, are worth pondering
to a degree, because, after all, rules
matter. So I agree with everything that
Patrick said.
But I also think that it’s good just to
read about what the other contributors
are passionate about, or what they find
amusing, or simply what parts of their
lives and their inherently unique
perspective they feel like sharing.
When Louis was talking about politics
and history, for instance, or when he’d
quote the Bible or perhaps, just as
interestingly, some gaming blog, from
his choice of topics to the very words
that he chose to write, he was telling
us about himself. Even from the way
he chose to quietly withdraw, he spoke
volumes about his good temperament,
his reason, even his reasonableness,
which is saying a lot for someone who
is perhaps even more attuned to
conspiracy theories than I. (Which of
us is crazier I’ll leave as an exercise
for the reader. Try not to have too
much fun with that.)
I guess this is why I’ve been
pleading in vain for some minimum
standards. When you tear another
down, pointlessly, you diminish us all.
And the APA is further diminished
when the members simply let it
happen, perhaps mutely resigned to
the fact that monkeys will be
monkeys. Not that I want to start a
huge flame war where everyone is
taking sides; I’m just saying that there
should be some minimum standards of
decency. And the only way that this
might ever happen, I suppose, is if
more contributors are disapproving
when someone clearly and needlessly
crosses the line (wherever they might
think that line ought to be drawn).
What A&E does for me is it gives
me a sort of family, so to speak, of
people who are gamers…it’s a gaming
family, essentially, people who stick
around for what is hopefully a really
long time, people who identify
themselves as role-players and who
offer comment on whatever happens
to be going on, gaming-related or
otherwise…but yes… let’s do try to
keep it gaming-related. That is our
purported focus, after all. But let us
also be demanding of a certain level of
consideration. We are, after all, a sort
of family, unless, of course, you
disagree.
Comments on A&E #400:
Myles Corcoran: Please email me the
link for the music archive if it is still
available. I have some music freely
downloadable from PureVolume for
you as well, if you’re interested.
Re the hijack with a timer:
Interesting idea. I’ve only used a timer
in combat situations where the players
were taking too long discussing
strategy in situations where the PCs
would not have time to plan. In those
situations, I might say, “I’ll give you
all fifteen seconds to tell me what
you’re doing…starting now,” and then
try to keep up as they all start talking
at me at the same time.
Michael Cule: Very much enjoyed
your reflections on the lucky the
unlucky. Ah, saving Carrot in the nick
of time, good write-up. “To fight
fiercely, like Harvard, and then lose,”
seems perfectly apt. And, on top of it
all, you’ve reminded me that I need to
try out that program Louis mentioned.
Robert Dushay: Will reply to you on
my blog. Please see http://jim-
vassilakos.livejournal.com (1/21/09)
Lee Gold: Re: grace under pressure:
I’ve always heard it attributed to
Hemingway, but as a quote, not as part
of a novel. Thank you for mentioning
the Yezidi.
Re: morality being erroneously
coupled with success: Good point. I’m
not should how this ought to be
handled in the context of children’s
stories, as I’m not sure if children
have an innate knowledge of morality
or if this must be taught by example.
My guess is probably the latter, but I
don’t know. Nonetheless, how might
martyr tales be perceived by children?
I have no idea.
Re technology: it seems that we’re
into semantics, but as I said before,
habitability, marginality, and non-
habitability are really a continuum
rather than hard & fast classifications.
Kimberly Marshall: Thanks for
mentioning Eternal Lands. I’ll
definitely have a look-see when
sufficient time presents itself. Also,
loved The Effects of Toadstool
Consumption on the Elven Brain.
More, please…
Paul Mason: It’s good to see you
back again, even if it is to be only
briefly, and congratulations on the
novel.
You write, “With gamebooks, I
think there is a form of dislocation
which comes from being confronted
with choices.”
I would argue that although this is
probably true to some extent, what
intensifies the dislocation for me is
having to search for the next event
(item number) as though it were some
word hidden in the middle of a
dictionary. However, if the effort
involved were reduced to the level of
say, pushing a button, I think the
experience of the game book would be
greatly enhanced. This was, to some
extent, what they did in Wing
Commander, the CRPG with Mark
Hamill among others, and it was also
used in Star Control II. Likewise, I’ve
played a number of what used to be
called Interactive Fiction programs,
Zork, of course, being perhaps the
most famous, although there were lots
of individuals, hobbyists in essence,
who were doing the same using
various adventure creation programs.
Most of these adventures are sort of
lame, but there are some good ones.
Also, I’m to understand that there’s
now something called hypertext
fiction. In any case, my point is that
several of these have done a good job
of telling their story even though they
gave the user some leeway in
determining his/her own, or at least
creating an illusion to that effect.
Regarding railroading feeling to
some extent like a game book: Yes.
Regarding role games being defined as
you say, active intervention of the
participants (I think Fine called it
shared fantasy) and how this is
fundamentally different from other
forms of entertainment: We already
know this. What you’re saying is self-
evident to anyone who’s ever
roleplayed.
Regarding rollercoasters and
dreams: I don’t seem to have dreams
in quite the same way that you do,
judging from what you’ve described.
You write,“…they rarely offer us any
conscious choice or input.”
remember very few of my dreams
these days, but for a short while I kept
a journal of my dreams. This was
many years ago.
I guess what I was going for was
lucid dreaming. Somebody told me
that if you kept a journal of your
dreams, you’d remember more and
more of them, and that gradually, in
time, you’d even be able to control
your dreams. I ended up passing
through the threshold of what they
call… I can’t remember what they call
it, but it’s basically where you realize
that you’re fully asleep even though
you’re deep enough under that you
can’t wake up without some willpower
being put into it. There are different
sensations that can go along with this.
In one case, my whole “body” felt like
it’s was vibrating, almost like
somebody flipped a switch and my
spirit was buzzing with energy. Or
maybe that was just me snoring. How
the hell should I know? In another
instance, much more recently (which
was odd, as I was not keeping a
journal at this time), it felt more like a
dream within a dream where
everything took on a tremendous
amount of detail, a sense of actually
being there in a place that I knew
could not possibly be real. I ended up
getting distracted by some writing on
an imaginary tee-shirt hanging from
the wall, and eventually went looking
for my wife (who was sleeping right
next to me, which caused me to
suddenly awake).
In any case, I’ve long stopped trying
to record my dreams. Probably I am
just too lazy to put out the effort of
trying to write before becoming fully
awake…of trying to push my memory
further and further back into the dream
events, all the while wanting to creep
back under warm blankets and let my
head go thud on the pillow.
What can I say? I’m a slug.
Nonetheless, what I discovered was
that my dreams often ended at a moral
crossroads, almost as though different
parts of me were being tested: my
courage (or rather lack thereof), my
patience (or instinct to reason before
succumbing to anger), my…well…all
my virtues and vices, I suppose. I
discovered that many of my dreams
contain moral tests, and when the end
would come, I would have to make a
split decision… a gut-level choice on
I what to do… and I didn’t always make
the right one. I could go on about this
at greater length, but suffice it to say
that while dreams may not offer us
conscious choice or input, they do
offer us subconscious choices, and
perhaps those choices that we make
are closer a reflection of our true
selves than we would like to admit…
that is assuming that we can even
remember having made a choice. If for
no other purpose than your own
exploration, I would encourage you to
try.
Regarding the unification of “good”
novels and how rough edges would
make their story feel more like real
life: Consider for a moment the
possibility that life has no rough edges
but that every moment of it has some
potentially unifying meaning… just
kidding.
Regarding the possibility of wholly
unexpected events occurring within
our form of roleplaying and this being
the drawing factor: Yes, once again
with the obvious, but you do say it
nicely. And you make a very good
point at the end, about the feeling of
reality not necessarily coming from
the proverbial infodump. However, it
may be worthwhile to note that any
sort of art can be admired on different
levels, and if the players are able to
look back on the story and draw
inferences and conclusions and
basically discuss the events and the
characters and their multitudinous
connections as much or more than
they actually play the game, then
perhaps you’re doing something right
as a GM. And if the game is written
out as a PBeM, then the possibilities
for analysis and revision are no less
than those for novels. In this sense,
perhaps, the PBeM is a sort of
crossover artform. In short, if I were
you, I don’t think I’d be too eager to
downplay all aspects of roleplaying
save for the one upon which you are
currently focused, although I agree
that this surprise at the unexpected is
certainly central.
I was reading a novel recently,
Diving Rod by Michael Knight, and it
strikes me that not all authors do the
infodump the same way (it’s now
apparently my turn to say the
obvious). I mean, some do it more
artfully than others. Sometimes it’s
intrusive, and sometimes it’s not, and
sometimes not only is it not, but it’s
told in such a way that it significantly
adds to the story beyond merely the
information that is being conveyed.
Regarding the artistic impulse of the
GM running counter to the shared
creativity of the group, particularly in
railroaded campaigns: Yes, but only
beyond a certain point. Think of the
GM as creating a kite, and each of the
players adding something on the end
until the kite ends up resembling one
of those bizarre, oriental dragons. The
GM has to create the first part, but he
or she also has to know when and
where to let go and let somebody else
take over for a bit, and a lot of this, as
we both know, is more art than
science. And what often happens, as
you indicate, is that the GM often falls
too far on the side of controlling
things, limiting the players’ capacity
to reinvent the campaign.
A great many probably believe,
“Hey, this is my story,” and they
couldn’t be more wrong. And, just as
in my dreams, I haven’t always made
the best call as a GM. Every time, in
fact, it has been a new learning
experience, and there’s always this
question over how much I should lead
versus how much I should follow, and
I think we just end up doing it
however feels right, and that’s likely
to be different for different people.
I’m reminded of the first half of my
essay in A&E #363 (not that you
necessarily need to dig it up in order
to understand what I’m saying).
Regarding “online games”: What,
exactly, are you talking about? Do you
mean PBeMs, or are you talking about
something else? I’m going to guess
that you’re talking about MMOs.
Regarding “the dungeon” as a
durable symbol: Let us not forget that
it also gives us that warm sense of
nostalgia.
Overall, good essay. There’s lots of
food for thought, as is always the case
with your essays. This is the reason I
love your zines so much, so I do hope
you decide to stick around.
Now for something completely
different.
RYCT Ty Beard regarding his
assertion in #398 that objections arose
to his politics rather than his
demeanor: Actually, I probably said
this before he did. I don’t want to
make this overly long, but you’re
coming into this after what I hoped
would be the end of the discussion.
Hence, in order so that you may catch
up, please see Joshua’s comment to
Louis in #391, Myles’ comment to Ty
in #396, and my zines in #393 &
#394. This will give you more
background so that you can at least
consider in greater detail what you
believe to be the truth of the matter. If,
after reading all this, you still believe
that the discussion has nothing to do
with politics and only has to do with
Ty’s demeanor, please let me know.
As for Robert Rees, I’m to
understand that the episode involving
him had something to do with
Everway, although please correct me
if I’m mistaken. I was not paying
much attention to that particular flame
war. In any case, and again please
correct me if I’m wrong, he went
down yelling in retaliation, which isn’t
to necessarily say that he was wrong
about his views, but he didn’t defend
them so much as he attacked his
attackers, and so I didn’t have as much
empathy as I might have had
otherwise.
As for you being attacked in the
past, well, of course you were
attacked, you rude bastard, but that
doesn’t mean we don’t love you. But,
seriously, I don’t recall you being
attacked like Ty and Louis were
recently (and that both were attacked
and so close to the election seems to
me somewhat revealing), and the
nature of the attacks was so personal
that I don’t think the attackers were
really reasoning as fully as they might
have done.
In short, I don’t think it is Ty’s or
Louis’ or your fault that these attacks
happen. I honestly think we should
blame the attackers, and at this point,
after being moved to ridicule by
something that I doubt you’ve fully
researched, that includes you. But
don’t feel bad… we still love you. Or,
at least, I hope Ty still does. (Is this
his first experience with you? If so,
nice first impression.)
Pum (Paul Holman): Re demons and
“brutal hierarchy”: I tend to veer this
way as well. In the Jinx campaign, the
difference between demons and devils
is social, not racial (being that
“physical form” is arbitrary). Devils
are simply demons that fall under the
hierarchy of the Emperor of Hell,
while demons that don’t (those who
fall under competing hierarchies) are
simply called demons. But they’re all
under brutal hierarchies of one form or
another.
Simon Reeve: RAE Mondarron’s
Monocle. Re Vampires in London:
I’m currently reading Those Who
Hunt the Night by Barbara Hambly.
So far, it’s pretty good.
Eugene Reynolds: Re “Pirates rock,
but parrots rule!”: Sounds like a good
t-shirt slogan. Also, thanks for
mentioning Shock: Social Science
Fiction. I just ordered a copy.
Brian Rogers: RAE Turtling,
although I can’t remember ever hosing
a party so badly that they started doing
this, however, there was a point in the
Jinx campaign (that I have yet to
share, but I’ll get around to it), that
Jinx did feel pretty hosed in terms of
what “the administration” was doing
to her (and we’ll get to that soon), but
her player’s reaction is usually to try
something… anything, actually…
rather than hunkering down as good
sense might otherwise suggest.
Steven Warble: Thanks for
mentioning FreakAngels. I apparently
must have gotten into it, as I read the
whole dang thing. Here’s another
webcomic that you may enjoy
(http://well-of-souls.com/outsider). I
don’t know if I heard about it here or
elsewhere, but it’s also a decent read,
although, like FreakAngels, it’s a
work-in-progress.
Out of time & space. TTFN…