Monthly Archives: August 2024

2 funerals, 2 spouses and a board game victory

So, a friend posted this recently in a group chat we’re both in:

I have rarely felt so called out (in a good way) and so relieved there’s a name for what I do. Sending things to people I think they’ll like brings me joy – I’ve been at it so long that large chunks of my online time now consists of little more than “Ooh, this person needs to know about this show”, or “I know someone who’ll get a giggle out of this.” Seeing the appreciative reactions makes me happy, it’s how I show people I care about them. Or cursing them, depending on what I’ve just sent. it’s the little things that bring me the most joy, much like getting my comment read out on A Wheezing Groaning Sound*, as I found to my joy last week. (It’s in Part 3 of their look at The Green Death, for those curious enough to partake)

There was a short trip to Adelaide last week for a relative’s funeral and while I could say fuck cancer, I’m all but certain the deceased in question wouldn’t want me using such harsh language. My family tend towards the conservative side of things, bless them, and while I’m fairly straight laced compared to most, I’m by far the odd one out in the family compared to them. I have embraced the role. I don’t like funerals at the best of times, as I tend to react to confronting my mortality by screaming and running in the opposite direction. Case in point: I was recently pondering whether to use an image of Cohen the Barbarian as the main image for my next birthday party invite, or to save it for my 50th, at which point my wife said “Well, it’s not that far away!” Ah, love. I did spend some afterwards pondering a funerary playlist, and at the time of writing Brillig’s The Old Captain, (AKA the theme tune for the Pirate History Podcast) is still what I’d like to leave to. It seems fitting compared to my current earworm, which is bardcore versions of Klingon songs. Some days I out nerd even me.

The second funeral, of sorts, was scattering my wife’s Godfather’s ashes at their favourite camping spot. I endure camping at the best of times, and I’m hoping the leech bite I got on Sunday calms down soon, as I’ve never had a reaction like it. The rash is healing, but there’s been moments when I’ve all but wanted to carve the offending skin away. At the very least, some superpowers would be nice – it would compensate for the itch. I’m sure the deceased would have fallen about laughing watching us struggling to open the container of his ashes, and the levity was much needed. The story telling afterwards was how I’d hope to be remembered, and I’m not sure how, but discussion of memories, and when we’re forgotten led to me introducing one of the assembled to the story of Ea Nasir later that night. It seemed rational at the time. In any case, the deceased will be be sorely missed, but now his watch has ended.

I was hoping to catch up up with some of the LARP folks I know while I was in Adelaide, but only managed to meet one. On the bright side, it was my LARP fiancé, which means my spouses (Real and fictional) have now met. Can’t lie, I wasn’t sure how it was going to go, but things went very well and based on how well the game of Pandemic: Reign of Cthulhu we played over dinner went, IRL wife considers LARP fiancé something of a good luck charm. The Lost Dice is a lovely venue who do a very nice burger and I’ll make sure to go back when I return. It’s a bit optimistic to have a copy of Twilight Imperium when you’re open less than 24/7, but the staff member who served us said they’d talked about an overnight lock in to play it. That’s a glorious idea that I in no way at all have the attention span for. Surprisingly, there wasn’t much LARP talk, but I continue to hope there’ll be another Path of the Warden event so our characters story can continue. Please?

Lastly, in the news I’m sure you’ve all been hoping for, I’m all but adjusted to the haircut, except for during high winds. I do find myself running my hands through it a lot, which means I have a new nervous tic I guess? That and I need a bandana before sword comes back (The hall we train in is being used for democracy the next couple of weeks), as 9 times out of 10 I’ll put my mask on only to have a strand come down over my eyes. *sighs*

Good night all. Be seeing you.

*Warning: Listening to Wheezing Groaning Sound can result in fits of uncontrollable giggling, an unhealthy curiosity as to what courses the Open University was showing, and the urge to solve problems using the Pertwee Method, namely by yelling “HAI!” and karate chopping people on the shoulder blades. You have been warned.

Been a while.

Last week I typed “I am not good at selfies” into my phone.

Auto correct changed that to “I am not good at self-esteem.”

I have not felt that personally attacked in a long, long time.

What prompted that particular exchange was something I’ve also not done in a long, long time. Brace yourselves people, but a bit over a week ago, I got a haircut.

Newer readers may be unaware of how long my I’ve had my hair that way, but it’s been near 30 years. I grew it as part of my nascent heavy metal fandom, and kept it. It was a signature, part of my style and identity, a silent declaration of ‘this is who I am and what I’m into’. Yeah, there was the odd cry of “Get a haircut!” and the like, but once it grew past the Beatle’s mop top length, it became my style. I’m certain the only people I’m in regular contact with these days who’ve seen me with short hair are family, and they were quite surprised when word got out. It was very much the ‘make sure you’re sitting down when you read this’ type of message. Why I did this was simple. Between some gentle nudges from my wife about it’s condition, and seeing far too much of the back of my head in the photos from Ravenswood, I bit the bullet. I’m proud of not bolting for the door at the salon and I certainly understand why she goes there, as the atmosphere was lovely. They even asked if I wanted to keep some of it, and while I was tempted to take a photo of the pile of hair on the floor, I felt no need for a keepsake lock or two.

As for how it looks now, well, it’s a lot shorter. There hasn’t been as much of the “Who the fuck are you?” when I look in the mirror, though given it’s now unrestrained I do find myself sweeping it back from my eyes a lot more. The reactions have been a mix of shock and appreciation, which has been much appreciated, though one acquaintance said it was a Samson-esque moment, and my brain went straight to Hercules Returns…

Turning to gaming, thanks to the generosity of a dear friend, I now have a physical copy of Feng Shui 2nd edition. For those who know not of it’s glory, it’s inspired by Hong Kong action cinema. If you’ve seen any of the work of John Woo, Tsui Hark, Jackie Chan or Jet Li, you’ll have a good idea of what to expect. The first edition was something of a revelation to me, for while I never did quite grapple with the metaplot, the idea of a game who’s combat was more than “I swing at him” *rolls dice* “And I miss”, where action movie wackiness was positively encouraged (To quote the GM advice book Blowing Up The Movies, “Any place you can have a rickety shelf packed with propane tanks, there will be a rickety shelf packed with propane tanks.”), it was a thing of beauty. Now owning a physical copy of the book has made reading it a lot easier (As opposed to the PDF), as well as learning the system (in as much I ever learn a system) and soaking all the detail in, one part of the book stood out to me. Short version: In the setting there’s a form of time travel, by accessing junctures in the Netherworld, the 4 main areas being 69AD, 1850AD, the modern day and the blasted post apocalyptic wasteland of 2074. Now, there’s a number of other junctures in the book involving alternate histories, cyborg apes and the like, all regular run of the mill stuff, but the one that stuck out the most tome shouldn’t be a surprise, at least not to anyone who’s played one of my convention games…

HOW IN THE EVER LOVING FUCK HAVE I NOT DONE THIS BEFORE? I’ve owned a PDF of the game since the Kickstarter ended near 10 years back, and somehow never noticed this. I can only assume I was rolling those particular Notice checks. It’s not that my events don’t have that particular style of wacky, but they tend to be more low budget BBC than Chow Yun-Fat diving through the air both guns blazing. This might have sparked a few ideas for bringing the Chi War to France, or reskinning the system to buckle some swash. Hell, maybe setting it in space. Firearms can pierce the hull, but swords don’t after all.. Well, unless we’re talking laser swords and that is damn tempting. Anyhow, I’m dead keen to run it, though more as the occasional one-off rather than a campaign.

Outside that, I’m still battered and sore from a sword class yesterday. A lot of time in it was spent blocking other people’s blades with my body, even if that wasn’t the intention. As a great man once said, it’s all in the reflexes. Walking today hasn’t been fun, though the shoulder that took most of the blows isn’t as sore as I was expecting. Which was nice. I need to warm up more and work on my reflexes. I adore fencing, but there’s days it really hurts.

As for the future, who knows? I’m still eyeing off going to the next Concord event to crew, hoping to hear about upcoming events (I have been very good and not been bombarding the Path of the Warden crew with questions) and am looking forward to new Lower Decks and Transformers One. Do I like Chris Hemsworth’s Optimus Prime voice? Not really. I’m also not a fan of the tone of it, at least based on the trailer, let alone the celebrity rather than voice actor casting. Peter Cullen’s voice casts a long shadow and Hemsworth based on the trailer doesn’t have it. Still, it’s not to have a reminder that at heart it’s a production for people who were my age when I first watched the show. I’m reminded of the age of the cinema audience when I went to see Muppets from Space.

That’s it, time for bed. Night all. Be seeing you.

PS: No, you don’t get a photo of my hair, you’ll have to wait till you see me in the flesh. My wife’s orders.