MEPAcon Fall 2010 After-Action Report

MEPAcon Fall 2010 After-Action Report — Blue Ink Alchemy

In Pennsylvania's northern reaches, amongst mountains wreathed in fog and criss-crossing freeways, the Ramada at Clark's Summit feels like a secluded retreat from big-city civilization. It's a nice hotel in an interesting position, and twice a year it plays host to the Mid-Eastern Pennsylvania gaming convention, a.k.a. MEPAcon. This was my first experience at this event, and it definitely will not be the last. I arrived to run a demo of Maschine Zeit, a session of the StarCraft board game and to break in the diplomatically-oriented rules of Conquest of the Empire. None of those things happened. Going through the experience of sitting at empty tables inspired me to remember proper ways to survive a convention. In spite of this disappointment, however, a great time was had. The raffle, auction and other goings-on Saturday night informed me very much of the sort of people who attend the convention. It's hard not to feel at home amongst other gamers who hiss at new editions of Dungeons & Dragons, laugh at jokes about random number generation and cheer for plush Cthulhu dolls. I took a trip into the forgotten mists of the very early 1990s with a session of the video-driven board game Nightmare and tried out a trick-based card game called Spooks. I found myself wishing two things: that I had arrived sooner, and that I had brought my wife. Sunday brought the aforementioned empty board game tables but also a rousing game of the co-operative struggle against the Great Old Ones, Arkham Horror. I also took a break to try a new card game The Werewolves of Millers Hollow, a.k.a. "Are You A Werewolf?" The expansion New Moon was included and I did not have the wherewithal to call it the "Team Jacob" game, an opportunity my bride would have capitalized upon. Finally on Sunday I had a fantastic encounter with beloved spec fiction author C.J. Henderson. The experienced pen behind occult detectives and the adorable "Baby's First Mythos" gave this struggling author some much-needed advice on bridging the gap between unpublished and published. Many of his words bubble in my brain, and I'd like to stir the internal pot and relate his words in some fashion soon. I highly recommend checking out his work. He's also inspired me to spruce up this webspace a bit. With an overall drive time of just under two hours, even using a non-turnpike route, and very reasonable registration fees, I plan on making time to properly enjoy the next MEPAcon in April of 2011. I plan on bringing Maschine Zeit and StarCraft once again, along with Ninja Burger as a scheduled event and pick-up games of Chrononauts, Spammers (my prize from almost winning Nightmare), Three Dragon Ante (if I can get my hands on a deck) and possibly Magic: the Gathering. More than anything else, I've been inspired to write more fiction and columns related to these genres and hobbies, continue running and playing old-school tabletop games and find ways to include the missus as much and as often as possible. Big thanks to MEPAcon's excellent staff, the fine gents at The Portal Comics & Gaming and the folks good enough to put up with me. I look forward to seeing, speaking with and playing at the tables of the great people I met in the days, weeks and months ahead.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Into the Nentir Vale: Part 4

Into the Nentir Vale: Part 4 — Blue Ink Alchemy

The Nentir Vale is a campaign setting provided to new players of Dungeons & Dragons 4th Edition. It's present in the Red Box and most of the starting materials. For a party almost all completely new to D&D and a DM re-familiarizing himself with the latest edition, it's a great place to start a campaign. This will be an ongoing recollection of what happens to the party as they make their way through the Nentir Vale. Enjoy. Previously: Kobolds play in old tombs. They took time to rest. Melanie reflected on her spells, Lyria sharpened her daggers, Andrasian practiced his swings with the axe and Krillorien recited his prayers. When they were ready, they delved deeper into the so-called Kobold Hall, wary for trouble and unnerved by the caverns' growing chill. They walked into an open chamber with pillars and a frozen pool of water. Guttering torchlight cast dancing shadows along the stone walls. The party kept their eyes on the darkness for any potential danger, with the exception of Lyria.

"Oh my, is that a hangnail?" - Danielle as Lyria, getting surprised by Szartharrax

From behind the largest pillar in the room, a large winged shape pounced upon the party. Covered in snow-white scales and fixed on its prey with beady eyes, the white dragon Szartharrax announced his presence with a blast of cold breath and a palpable miasma of fear. The party was quick to respond, Krillorien blessing them with his prayers as Melanie assaulted the dragon with the vision of an imposing ogre. The dragon seemed unimpressed, however, and swiped at the humanoids with its massive claws.

"Why do we roll shit when we get all these bonuses?" "Because RNG hates your guts." - Eric & Danielle

The dragon did not have the advantage of surprise for long. Lyria, forgetting all about her apparent hangnail, sank her blades deep into its side as Andrasian kept it at bay. Krillorien's sword sang the battle hymn of Pelor as Melanie conjured the terrifying image of a mind flayer. Set on its scaly heels by the assault, Szartharrax struck back, only to overextend its reach and leave itself open to a counterattack by the cleric, who unleaded a brand of righteousness upon their foe.

"It misses like a champ." "Then I kick it in the balls." - DM & Ben

The dragon quickly found itself on the defensive. Another flurry of blows from the halfling sent it into a mad frenzy, causing it to breath cold once more. This time, the sellswords were ready for it. Spells and strikes meant to shatter bones and cleave limbs came into play, even if every blow did not land as intended.

"RIGHTEOUS BRA- oh, a 7. Nevermind." - Eric, on Ben's Righteous Brand roll

Szartharrax had begun by attacking Lyria and Melanie in an apparent bid to rob the party of its lighter-armored members. Now, it focused all of its attention on the elf in scale mail. Perhaps the metal scales reminded it of some metallic foe of its past. Perhaps the elf's blows were the most telling. Whatever the reason, Szartharrax lashed out at Andrasian, first with its claws and then, unsatisfied, snapped out to bite the elf. Andrasian felt the cold teeth sink deep, but struck back at the dragon with all his might.

"It's okay, I still have Elven Accuracy just in case. *rolls a 4* ...I use Elven Accuracy..." - Mike

The dragon was clearly beginning to feel its wounds. Its movements slowed but were still deadly. Melanie reached deep into Szartharrax's juvenile mind, pulled out its deepest fear and made it real with her phantasmal force. The metallic dragon that suddenly appeared roared at Szartharrax, giving it pause. That was the opening Lyria had been waiting for. With a running start, she sprang onto the white dragon's snout, somersaulted behind its horns and bent to bury her dagger in its eye up the hilt. The white dragon squawked in surprise, then toppled to the ground.

"YAAAAAY WE DID IT! *claps like an infant*" - Ben

Among the dragon's hidden belongings were the bit of dragon hide Teldorthan had asked Andrasian to recover, a sum of gold along with a decent-sized pearl, a longsword with a handle wrapped in black leather with a small silver skull for a pommel, and a letter written in Draconic offering an alliance to the kobolds from Irontooth, the goblin warlord wishing to conquer the Nentir Vale. It spoke of taking the long-unoccupied dwarven manse south of Fallcrest and using it as a staging point for the invasion of the town. Krillorien realized that was why the goblins kept attacking his house. The party left Kobold Hall, returning briefly to Fallcrest before making their way south to Winterhaven east to Harkenwold. While they had ended the threat of Szartharrax and his kobold minions, the ominous portents of the letter and word of a death cult beyond the southern hamlet eastern barony meant their adventures were only beginning... All locations, NPCs, spells and equipment copyright Wizards of the Coast unless otherwise noted.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Surviving a Convention

Surviving a Convention — Blue Ink Alchemy

It's been a while since I've attended a convention of any kind. Gaming and other geek conventions differ from writing conferences and business convocations in several ways. They tend to be a bit more fun and free-form. It's easy to lose track of time, belongings or personal needs & hygiene in the encapsulated environment of a hotel ballroom converted into a parlor for the celebration of geekdom. And when you're away from it for a while, as I was, it's easy to forget a few of the basics. Hopefully, this will be helpful for others as it could have been to myself, say, yesterday. Hindsight is 20/20 and I've got my butt-shades on.

Bring Your Own Food & Water

A few dollars spent at a grocery story can go a long way in extending your convention enjoyment. A few bottles of water, some snacks and the means to make easy food like sandwiches or maybe a salad will likely cost you the same as a meal at the local fast food joint. Not to mention the greater degree of control over your consumption means you can make healthier choices. For the record, the next time I come to one of these shindigs, I plan on picking up a six-pack of water bottles, some baby carrots and almonds, a bag of chips or pretzels, a loaf of bread, peanut butter, jelly and marshmellow fluff. Because fluffernutters are awesome.

Be Prepared

Gamers can be a fickle, impatient lot. Go over the convention schedule, know what you want to do and where you have to be at what time to do it. Otherwise, you may find yourself administrating an empty table. If someone else failed their time-comprehension check or they have a loved one hacking up a lung, it doesn't hurt to bring some entertainment of your own. A laptop or portable gaming system can amuse yourself, but conventions are supposedly social occasions. For the sorts of conventions I'm discussing, bring card games: Fluxx, Chrononauts, Three-Dragon Ante, etc. Feel free to toss a couple Magic decks in your luggage as well, just in case another planeswalker appears.

For Cthulhu's Sake, WASH

This hasn't been much of a problem of late, but I remember attending a few conventions where someone decided to keep the fun going all night long and neglected to take ten minutes to wash some of the funk off in the shower. It's common courtesy to not stink up the joint, after all. I tossed a stick of deodorant in a plastic bag just in case I found myself rooted to a table for hours and completely lost track of time. That didn't happen, but it falls under the "Be Prepared" rule. Tomorrow I'll give more thoughts on my current con experience, and Tuesday we unbox the Dungeon Master's Kit before I subject my victims players to its contents.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Games I Miss

Games I Miss — Blue Ink Alchemy

I play a lot of games. I'm in the process of preparing for my trip to MEPAcon as I write this. When other people aren't around, however, and I don't have the spare gas and snack money to hang out with other people, and my desire to play tabletop games goes unfulfilled for other reasons, I hit up the video games. This is a habit I've had for many years, and in that time some of the games I've really enjoyed have faded into the background, or disappeared entirely. Two in particular stick out in my mind, and they both involve spacecraft shooting at aliens and monsters. One is the shoot-em-up. Space Invaders and Asteroids are arcade games as old as I am and pretty much set the standard for "here's your ship, shoot what comes at you" games. Galaxian, 1942, Gradius, the list goes on. My favorites were always one lone ship against an alien horde and their staggeringly huge motherships. I hear the genre has a bit of niche appeal now but is being overshadowed by the ever-expanding scope and budgets of AAA games. Still, it might be a good starting point for someone looking to get into game design. The other is the space sim. A lot of time when I was young got devoured by Wing Command and TIE Fighter. The knowledge that I'd die long before we got into the sort of universe we see in Wing Commander or Mass Effect was apparently already with me, as slipping into the persona of a daring space pilot in the cockpit of a starfighter was pretty much my favorite form of digital escapism. Even when later Wing Commander sequels gave the protagonist a face and a name, I was on board for the experience, because that face belonged to Mark Hamill. I mean, back when I was a lad and Star Wars hadn't been pissed on by Lucas, being a more seasoned Luke Skywalker was the next best thing to self-insertion. What are genres of video games that you miss?

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Blue Ink Alchemy

IT CAME FROM NETFLIX! Falling Down

IT CAME FROM NETFLIX! Falling Down — Blue Ink Alchemy

[audio:http://www.blueinkalchemy.com/uploads/fallingdown.mp3] I'm going to go out on a limb and make an assumption about you, the person about to experience this review. If you're above the age of university graduation, you're working a job you don't particularly like. Chances are, instead of being in a place where you do something that not only pays your bills but fuels your passion, you're in a position where one need is getting fulfilled while another is getting neglected. I know it's not going to be true for everybody, but for the majority of people interested in seeing Falling Down, the miasma of soul-crushing modern urban life coupled with negative daily experiences like a commute and estranged family are elements that are familiar, painful and a means to forge immediate empathy with a man who, despite his politeness and intelligence, isn't necessarily a very good person. And yet, he's our protagonist. His name is William Foster, but most people will come to know him as "D-FENS", the vanity plate on his 1979 Chevelle. Said car has a busted air conditioner and we find Foster sitting in the car, stuck in Los Angeles traffic on the hottest day of the year. For reasons not immediately explained but revealed bit by bit throughout the story, D-FENS abandons his car and declares he's going home. He walks from one part of the city to another, encountering little annoyances that most people deal with or accept with at least some measure of restraint. It's quickly clear, however, that D-FENS is unrestrained. Something has snapped deep within this man, and he is lashing out at whomever gets in his way. Store owners, gang members, by-standers, anybody. He begins his walk unarmed and seemingly harmless. As time goes on, the stakes get higher, his arsenal grows and a legacy of battered individuals and urban legends spring up in his wake. He doesn't care. He just wants to go home. Every step Foster takes not only takes him closer to home, but further down a very dark and disturbing path and brings us closer to a full understand of what made him the way he is. Thanks to a tour-de-force performance by Michael Douglas, we see Foster not as any sort of hero and, by the end, he barely qualifies as a decent human being. What's chilling about him is his single-mindedness, his ironclad determination to complete his journey and his deep resentment for anyone who tries to belittle or downplay his rights or his ambitions. This could literally be any one of a million people who work a job for most of their adult lives only to be told their position is no longer economically viable, are rejected by the people they love and get confronted by personal irritants at every turn. It may feel at times like D-FENS is being set up by some mischievous god, but the fact is that none of the people he encounters, with one exception, are better or worse by a large degree than he is. They're all selfish, self-involved and angry about something. He just has more guns than they do. This film was marketed, for the most part, as a revenge flick in the vein of Charles Bronson's many stabs at the action genre. But many stories in that style, from the ongoing urban reclamation of The Punisher to the faith-fueled rampages of the Boondock Saints, have an atmosphere of fantasy about them, the sort of juvenile wish-fulfillment that still exists deep in the heart of movie-goers like myself who remember and, in some cases, cling to the frustrations of growing up in a hostile environment and longing for ways to fight back. Falling Down does show us what could happen when an ordinary man indulges in that wish-fulfillment, but it plays the results 100% straight and never, ever lets us forget that what D-FENS is doing is wrong. The police get involved right away, and it's in this that the blurbs and posters fail, as the movie only gains its true depth and examination with the addition of Sergeant Prendergrast, played excellently by Robert Duvall. The differences between Foster and Prendergrast may at first seem jarring. Foster is a cold, driven, frighteningly intelligent and very bitter man, while Prendergrast is kind, considerate, quietly looking forward to retirement and seems a bit like everybody's dad. However, these two men are separated only by the thinnest of lines. Both deal with frustrating situations and inconsiderate people, but while Foster is acting out at all times against all comers, Prendergrast takes what he can on the chin. He doesn't lash out unless it's necessary. When it is necessary, he doesn't hold back. But his restraint, in stark contrast with Foster's lack of it, underscores the utter depravity of D-FENS' actions. At one point, Prendergrast points out that everybody makes choices. In dealing with a spouse, in pursuing a goal, in facing a situation that drives us up the wall with anger, we make choices. Some choose to deal with the situation as best they can, rolling with the punch and looking for an opening to push through to something better. Some fold completely under pressure and harbor resentment for later. And some pull out a gun at the fast food counter when they ask for breakfast at 11:34 AM when restaurant policy says breakfast stops getting served at 11:30. Most reasonable people would take a deep breath and order from the lunch menu instead.
"I don't want lunch. I want breakfast." And yet, as unhinged and wrong as Foster's actions are, we cheer for him. We delight in the revenge he takes on the cold, unfeeling world around him. We might even picture ourselves doing the same thing in the same situation. We would likely even consider ourselves in the right, as Foster does. Yet as the weight of his actions hurtles towards him, and Prendergast tracks him down, he comes to a chilling realization that's been clear to us as outside observers practically from the start. "I'm the bad guy," D-FENS says. "How did that happen?" From writing to direction, from acting to shot composition, this is an excellent film. The downward spiral of Foster and the mounting aggravation of Prendergast mirror one another perfectly, the motivations of Foster are revealed at a great pace and the action never feels unrealistic or contrived, with one or two exceptions. It's fun to watch and deeply engrossing at the same time. While we chuckle at D-FENS struggling with a rocket launcher, we also may see ourselves in his sullen, grim and bitter demeanor. Falling Down holds a mirror up to our lives and asks us how much we see in the reflection. It's less a revenge flick or action thriller than it is one of the most badass exercises in self-examination I've seen in quite some time. It definitely belongs on your Netflix queue if you haven't seen it before. Here we have evidence that Joel Schumacher can, in fact, make a damn fine thriller. I still want to take a bat to his knees for Batman & Robin though. And then I'm going after the idiots who don't give subtitle options on certain Netflix Instant selections. Now I have to wait a week or two to review Oldboy. Would a hammer be more appropriate than a bat? Or maybe a chainsaw. Wait, is that a sword hanging over...? Josh Loomis can't always make it to the local megaplex, and thus must turn to alternative forms of cinematic entertainment. There might not be overpriced soda pop & over-buttered popcorn, and it's unclear if this week's film came in the mail or was delivered via the dark & mysterious tubes of the Internet. Only one thing is certain... IT CAME FROM NETFLIX.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Enough Hours

Enough Hours — Blue Ink Alchemy

There are twenty-four hours in a day. Let's be generous and say the average adult sleeps for 7 of those hours. You're going to need to eat, too, so let's allot an hour for each meal. That gives us fourteen hours to work with. Fourteen hours seems like a lot of time, doesn't it? But if you work at an office, you need to get to and from it. There's a couple hours there. Even if you don't, there will be tasks necessary to maintain your living space that need doing, taking up another hour or two. The more you think about it, the less available time you have. There simply aren't enough hours in the day for us to do what we want on top of what we need. In the interest of not taking up any more of your time than necessary today, I admonish you to make the most of what time you have. If you want to be a writer, write. Want to be a game designer? Make a game, or at least play something critically. Don't just lounge on the couch poking the buttons to make the mobs go boom - examine the game and its mechanics, see what works and what doesn't, find the triggers for the player to become involve and ask yourself why they're there. Extra Credits has more. This isn't to say you need to fill every available hour with work. We as human beings do need our relaxation and decompression time. Not to mention exercise. So go for a walk, play with the kitten, call a friend, watch a movie, masturbate. It's all about moderation. If you do nothing but write all day, you'll likely go mad. If you do nothing but whack it all day... well, they say you'll go blind, but mostly you'll just have a hard time sitting due to all of the chafing. It's a sad state of affairs when we need to do more to pay our bills that takes us away from that which makes us fulfilled. I'm sure some people love flipping burgers or shoveling gravel, but others fill that time mentally being somewhere else, doing something more interesting. Despite the apparent success of some blatantly talentless people, the individual who has the gumption and wherewithal to pursue a passion to the point of profession is rare. Most of us schlubs work a profession to keep ourselves fed and pursue our passion in what spare time we can spare between dodging phone calls and pounding the porpoise. Enough philosophical wanking, I need to get back to work.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Enough Hours

Enough Hours — Blue Ink Alchemy

There are twenty-four hours in a day. Let's be generous and say the average adult sleeps for 7 of those hours. You're going to need to eat, too, so let's allot an hour for each meal. That gives us fourteen hours to work with. Fourteen hours seems like a lot of time, doesn't it? But if you work at an office, you need to get to and from it. There's a couple hours there. Even if you don't, there will be tasks necessary to maintain your living space that need doing, taking up another hour or two. The more you think about it, the less available time you have. There simply aren't enough hours in the day for us to do what we want on top of what we need. In the interest of not taking up any more of your time than necessary today, I admonish you to make the most of what time you have. If you want to be a writer, write. Want to be a game designer? Make a game, or at least play something critically. Don't just lounge on the couch poking the buttons to make the mobs go boom - examine the game and its mechanics, see what works and what doesn't, find the triggers for the player to become involve and ask yourself why they're there. Extra Credits has more. This isn't to say you need to fill every available hour with work. We as human beings do need our relaxation and decompression time. Not to mention exercise. So go for a walk, play with the kitten, call a friend, watch a movie, masturbate. It's all about moderation. If you do nothing but write all day, you'll likely go mad. If you do nothing but whack it all day... well, they say you'll go blind, but mostly you'll just have a hard time sitting due to all of the chafing. It's a sad state of affairs when we need to do more to pay our bills that takes us away from that which makes us fulfilled. I'm sure some people love flipping burgers or shoveling gravel, but others fill that time mentally being somewhere else, doing something more interesting. Despite the apparent success of some blatantly talentless people, the individual who has the gumption and wherewithal to pursue a passion to the point of profession is rare. Most of us schlubs work a profession to keep ourselves fed and pursue our passion in what spare time we can spare between dodging phone calls and pounding the porpoise. Enough philosophical wanking, I need to get back to work.

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Blue Ink Alchemy