Author Archives: shoutybeardything

En garde!

Phenomenon is over for another year, and it’s back to reality once again. Booooo! 11 sessions in total, and I was running for all of them I think it’s my first time being fully booked at a convention. As always, massive thanks go out to my players, the con orgs and my play-testers. You’re all worth your weight in gold. By the end, I was, I think, 2 players short of fully booked, a feat which is both incredibly flattering and utterly terrifying. Despite the terror, it’s been a good few days for my ego, with numerous compliments flowing my way afterwards, one saying my game last year inspired his game this year, to say nothing of hearing one guy had adapted and re-run one of my old ones for his home group, so the legend of Tarrasque lives on. My throat has mostly recovered from all the talking, shouting and laughing (A couple of other GM’s briefly lost there’s) and a massive chunk of today has been spent napping to recuperate. The older I get, the more time I need. So, how did it go, I hear you ask?

It was a joy. There’s the usual first couple of session nerves, and the last session exhaustion and insanity. I had one person say in future they’d try to book my last session and I’m choosing to take that as a compliment. First session there was stress, as I realized I’d forgotten to print the stat sheets, Fortunately I still had the playtest versions with me, so with some addition the stopgap solution worked and an early morning Officeworks visit fixed it. They’re a godsend. The two late Sunday sessions left me with a bad dose of ‘can’t sleep, too anxious’ which is never a fun situation. I don’t think anything went particularly wrong in them, though a couple of sessions did go long. Poor time management, too much anecdoting and not moving things forward owing to players having fun are long term problems of my GMing. There was a wonderful moment where a long term player gently reminded me of my knack for over-anecdotes, and if you’re reading this, I really appreciate the tact of it. Also, it could have been finding that Niece, Age 15, chose the femme fatale character in her session not realizing that when I said her partners have a tendency towards accidents, I meant that she arranges them. Whoops. She did really well, but as it was my first time running for her there was a little extra nerves. The event itself was an experiment at running something a bit darker, with some more depth than my usual fare. Now, while I threw out most of that tone about 1.3 seconds in, it was still there in the characters, and a few players jumped in and worked with it, some incredibly well.

Don’t get me wrong, the ones who didn’t did nothing wrong. However the player reads the sheet and forms an interpretation of the character, that’s fine by me. There wasn’t any sort of “I don’t think the character would do that’ thing. I’ve not had that at Pheno, short of the guy who made a Holocaust reference during a Tarrasque session. For the life of me, I can’t remember who it was, but it was gratifying to see the rest of the table immediately join me in shutting it down, and he didn’t try to bring it up again. It’s a collaborative experience, between player and GM, and that variety is one of the joys of it. Half the reason I keep coming back is the variety, of seeing what each group does, where they take things. You can run an adventure 10 times, for 10 different groups and get 10 different solutions to the problem. The adrenaline hit when that ‘they want to do what?’ moment kicks in, it’s a hell of a thing.

Some sessions had less dice rolling than normal, with the last few mostly being descriptive and the dice kept for the really important stuff. I attempted, on the advice of my playtesters, a flashback mechanic, which sometime worked. There was even one guy who was familiar with the system, which was a first. Being fully booked is shattering, but the feeling of being in demand is wonderful. The sense of ‘all these people want to experience what I’ve written’, no matter how many I run, I still get butterflies in the stomach. I’ve talked about having a co-GM for tabletops so I can have a rest or run a few more sessions, but it doesn’t feel right for me. This may sound arrogant, but I feel that a large part of my event’s popularity is my GM style, and while I’m sure other GM’s could do a wonderful job at it, certainly with more intensity and rules knowledge, it wouldn’t be me. I’ve heard talk of GM’s running each others games, or all writing games based on a single blurb and seeing how things go. Hell, I’ve contemplated “Gav’s con game roulette”, where the players show up and a random con game of mine is chosen. Prize giving was, as always, a nightmare. Everyone was deserving of an award, and I do try to give at least 2 each con to people I’ve not run for before. Encouraging newbies is a good thing.

Selected highlights and quotes follow:
The prison break where three people all claimed to be the lover of one very unsuspecting prisoner.
The session where the Cardinal wasn’t played by Tim Curry, but Tom Baker. “You’ve performed a wonderful service for Galli-France.” To say nothing of “Consider it done, and I didn’t even need the sonic screwdriver!”
Commenting how the prisoner has been worked over to an extent the NSW Police Force would think excessive. Yes, I did re-watch Blue Murder recently, and yes, I wasn’t proud of that line.
The use of the phrase “Upside down Miss Jane” in an incredibly unsettling accent, which prompted my response “It puts the squiggle in the basket or it get’s the hose again.”
The last session who engaged with my internal logic of the game being a low budget 1970’s BBC show like no other. I returned from a toilet break to find them explaining the actors had a tea break, not to mention the grumbling about other actors getting better fitted costumes and how they should have read their contracts.
Each session having at least 1 George Takei cameo, with him in perfect renaissance garb commenting “Oh my…”. I don’t recall why it started, but by session 2 it became a challenge to work it in.
Bardcore versions of Yackety Sax, Eye of the Tiger and Hot For Teacher.

“Storming the Bastille sounds like a dangerous idea.”
“I dunno, it sounded revolutionary”

“The voice over says The Cardinal’s boys are in a fine mess.”
“Well, the tricolour is painted on the roof of the carriage, the General De-Gaulle…”

“Caught on fire.”
“Cordon bleu!”

“There’s butter in every room.’
“Well, we are in Paris and it could be the last tango.”

“It is a wonderful day in the Bastille and you are a terrible poltergoost.”

“I lost my liver in a poker game to Oliver Reed.”

“The best way in is going to be as a prisoner. Any volunteers?”
‘Alright, I’ll be the prisoner.” *punches the Guard in the face*
‘I’m not wearing that uniform, fuck it I’ll punch him too!”

“I’m gonna take him out the washerwoman exit.’
‘I’ve not heard it called that before…”

“French maids outfit, French maids outfit, German maids outfit.”
“I’VE COME TO CLEAN YOUR ROOM. JAH VUHL!”

“That’s what you can’t read it, it’s in Comic Sans.”

“Still, life could always be worse. We could be English!” *loudly spits*

*A purse of coins has just been retrieved from a prison wallet* “That’s the shittiest business deal in history.”

More quotes will no doubt follow, as the document was extensive. I’m having ideas for next year, but none of them are at a working stage yet. Mostly they seem to be freeforms, as I’d love to get a chance to play (and nap) again. I’ve an idea for another Babylon 5 one, and am kicking round ideas for one set in the ‘Cold War spies, but with magic’ idea I had a while back. I still haven’t had a game where I can wear the wand holster I own, and I may have to write the damn thing myself in order to. Based on the post con chatter, there’s a lot of freeforms being planned. Who knows, there’s plenty of time to decide.

Time for bed. Good night. Sleep well. I’ll most likely kill you in the morning. Be seeing you.

Clothes make the man, do they not?

So, struggling with something at the moment. Both my brain doctors says I’m doing well, and the increased dosage seems to be working, but other matters continue to plague me. Not frantically writing my event for Pheno, trying not to buy all of the Dungeons and Dragons costume range or putting into words just what the riff in Whole Lotta Rosie does to me (Hint: A lot of air guitar is involved*), but it’s more my identity, my self image that’s the issue. Talking about stuff helps me work through it, so… It’s late at night as I start to this, I still reek of smoke from the backyard fire I lit earlier in the night (To celebrate a friends kids birthday – there are reasons we call her The Arsonist), some vintage AC/DC is playing and let’s fuckin’ go.

So, my personal style? I remember once describing it as part gamer nerd, part rock and roll fan, with a dash of disposal store chic. I have a lot of love for band shirts, both to advertise the stuff I love, and as self expression. It’s a non-verbal “Yeah, this is who I am and what I’m into”, and gives more chances for ‘the nod’ between people wearing the same bands shirts. They can feel like armour on bad days, or a middle finger to the rest of the world on really bad days. There’s been times I’ve had people back away from me, (When I’ve not been carrying some sort of weapon), and it’s felt good. It’s not that I set out to do so, but it can be fun from time to time. Freaking the mundane’s and all that. Sure, I then also have the urge to check my fly is done up, but that sort of paranoia is perfectly normal. Mind you, it’s been a while since I wore my “You’re not just wrong, the rules also say you’re a dick!” shirt, but the looks I got wearing it outside of game conventions kinda put the kibosh on that one. Context is important.

Where was I? Oh yes, style. Mine is elegantly scruffy, from clothes to hair to beard. I scrub up OK on the odd occasion and I enjoy those, but a large chunk of the time I’m in clothing I don’t much give a shit about as it’s about to be covered in dirt, dust and sweat. And the more I think on that, the less happy I am about that. It’s not that I think it’s a bad thing, but it’s messing with my head. The impulse to dress, I want to say, fancier, more often of late has been rattling round my skull. To want to look good and feel it, two things that rarely go together for me, though my wife would loudly dispute that assertion.

I’m not sure where it came from (I normally only get the urge after I watch a Bond film or two), but I can’t dismiss it. it’s not a drastic change, I’m still going to be me. I’ve no ambition to start wearing spandex or neon, but I want more flash in my wardrobe, if that makes sense? To take more than a few seconds over my appearance, to look in the mirror and feel good. To look neat more than once in a blue moon. Not junking all the black in my wardrobe, but adding more colour. Maybe buying another cape or two. I don’t know, I don’t have a wish list set up yet, though that’s an idea. To add to that, the itch to get a tattoo has popped up again. The leading design is still the word ‘Polarity’, but reversed (It’s a Doctor Who thing), while the idea of getting a rapier along my inner right forearm has entered my head and refused to leave. My wife and her two best friends have been talking about getting matching ones, so this may not have helped.

It’s the same sort of thing that’s trying to summon enough willpower to do some actual exercise. There’s no fear of me going full gym nut, as I like friends more than abs. Also, I don’t have the discipline or focus and enjoy snacks too much. And while my wife claims to be used now to my arms having muscle, the way she flinched upon putting her arm through mine a few years back still amuses me, followed by a loud cry of “What the fuck is that, that’s actual muscle? Where did that come from, I married a geek!” But a bit more cardio and a bit less in the belly would be nice, I think. Not being quite so knackered after sword or LARP would be useful. Crom help me, I’m enjoying physical activity, something I never thought I’d say. Is there a goal to this? Dunno. Feeling better should be enough, though there’s a part of me that wants someday to have enough self confidence to look down a camera lens and yell “CAMERAMAN, ZOOM IT!” *sighs* Twitter just isn’t the same without the Iron Sheik telling me to go fuck myself.

I don’t know, was there a point to all this? Given my current situation plans are all I can make. Still, it feels good to talk it over, and that’s an important thing. Good night all. Sleep well. I’ll most likely kill you in the morning.

*I occasionally wonder what the people who see me furiously air guitaring at shows think, but a lot of the shows I go to are full of people acting that way. And while I kinda want footage to exist, if only to show my wife, I also really don’t want to watch that footage.

An exhibition of sheer precision

The urge to write has kicked in again, so here’s what I’ve been up to since the last actual proper update. There’s been some gigs, some leather and more thoughts on LARP. So, let’s start with the music shall we?

Gig 1: The Sunnyboys. One of the leading lights of the early 80’s Sydney rock scene, embarking on their farewell tour. I had to travel down to Newcastle for this, though managing to book a room above a pub barely 200 meters from the venue was a masterstroke on my part. Also an accident, but enough of that. It’s been a while since I’d seen a gig with that much love in the room, and tears of love and joy. The songs were just as wonderful live as they were on record, with Trouble In My Brain hitting a lot harder knowing of both singer Jeremy Oxley’s undiagnosed (at the time) schizophrenia and my own brain issues. I’m Shaking and Tunnel of Love were beautiful in their intensity and Alone With You had the audience cheering and weeping in equal measure. I’d have loved to have my wife there to fall into her arms and weep. That song has quite the effect on me.

Gig 2: Heilung. A band best described as Iron Age folk music and who’s gigs are described as rituals, I was really glad to manage to get a ticket for it. Presentation and atmosphere wise, it was 10/10 and more shows should begin with an acknowledgement of country. A curious mix of people in the crowd, ranging from goths to Vikings to goth Vikings. Between the light show, the band chanting and people wandering round stage with swords and spears, there was no shortage of things going on. It also featured one of the most Australian things I’ve ever seen, with the cheers at the end of one song punctuated with a loud cry of “Aww, fuck yeah cunt!” Very glad I saw it, but the songs did kind of blend into one another, though not in a bad way, more a Ramones circa It’s Alive kind of way, if that makes sense. More atmospheric than air guitar, but it was a hell of an experience either way.

Gig 2: Metal Gods. A tribute to the works of Judas Priest and the late great Ronnie James Dio, fronted by former Priest vocalist Tim ‘Ripper’ Owens and featuring former AC/DC drummer Simon Wright. This was a night of air guitar, flailing limbs and HEAVY FUCKING METAL, some of my favourite things. Look, Ripper’s between song banter could have been trimmed, but getting Kill the King, Electric Eye, Hell Bent for Leather and The Last in Line all performed in a row was basically an out of body experience for me. And that’s without mentioning the two older gentlemen near me who were having the time of their lives – the excited hug they gave each other when the intro to Holy Diver started didn’t just warm my heart, I damn near wept. Yes, I can weep with joy and air guitar – it’s called multitasking. Guitar solo’s probably should have been left back in the 80’s, or when the singer badly needs to pee mid concert, but the encore of Heaven and Hell made it all worthwhile. A glorious night at which I air guitared as if my life depended on it, and I regret nothing. I’ve talked with my wife more than once about bringing her to one of these shows so she can watch me. She likes doing that.

Gig 4: Henry Rollins. The artist I’ve seen the most over my life (in band and talking mode), it had been far too long since he’d graced our shores. Basically, he will hit stage and talk at (not to) the audience for around 2 and a half hours barely taking breath and I’d missed it so damn much. It’s hard to explain unless you’re there, the way he can go from side splittingly funny to brutally emotional in about 2 seconds flat, but he manages it like no other artist I’ve ever seen. It was a friend of my wife’s first time seeing him and I’m not sure she had any idea what was about to hit her. She’d heard his spoken word albums, but the experience of seeing Henry in the flesh is something else.

So yeah, there’s been some great shows. Some other great things have arrived in my house of late – there was the giant hat I wore at Path of the Warden, which took nearly a year to arrive but was worth the wait. Thanks to an op shop I got my hands on a long held dream, that being a heavy biker style jacket. My wife calls it my Ramones jacket, I call it my mid-life crisis. Sleeves are a little long for my arms, but putting the thing on just makes me feel good, and really, that’s what’s important. Though I’m torn between feeling hell bent for leather and wanting to hitch a ride to Rockaway Beach… Lastly, some armour! I was at a recent medieval event, demoing with my sword group, and while wandering early in the day, saw it. The leather worker was kind enough to let me try it on, it fit, and unknown to me my fate was sealed there. I checked with my wife, who approved, and while I held out as long as I could, by the end of the day the urge was too strong and I raced back and purchased it. it’s not exactly a fit for my Warden character, but I’m eyeing it off wearing it at Lost Settlers next year.

Speaking of Warden, it’s been on my mind a lot, or to hear my wife tell it, “It’s all he’s been able to talk about.” She’s not wrong. Future events are still unknown and my feelings are “Don’t give me hope.” Don’t get me wrong, if one is announced I’ll be there like a shot, as I adore my character and want to continue his story, but only if things are worthwhile. I don’t want an event for the sake of one, but only if there’s a good reason in character for it. I don’t want to cheapen the experience, or have diminishing returns. If I lived closer I’d be petitioning for a smaller scale event, whether that be my character’s wedding or the PC’s coming back together to tell bullshit stories about our exploits. I also just really want to see all the other players and crew again, as they were universally lovely. To spend more time with those I barely talked to that game, swapping “No shit, there I was” stories and bouncing round terrible ideas, like a convention after party but with foam weapons. *ponders* There’s an idea in that…

It’s also had me musing on how much the short format event pushed me out of my comfort zone and to get shit done, as does the threat of perma-death. I’m sure I’ve talked about this before, but for new readers I’ll give you the short version: basically, I need deadlines to get shit done. Regular events have me going “Oh, I’ll do that thing next session” whereas one shots have me all “Gotta get stuff done ASAP!” I like getting stuff done in games, it helps things stick in my head. All too often a session will end and I’ll think “What actually happened that session?” It’s no slight at all to the other players or GM, just how my brain functions. I really enjoyed how much I managed to get done/experience at Warden, and hope to continue that at future games I get to. I’ve been looking into getting to Concord at some point, game in New Zealand again, or even trying to run something myself again, hopefully having learnt some lessons from my last few attempts. Pheno first though, for which I should be writing.

Time for bed now. Be seeing you,.

Now is the time for the clashing of swords…

“All of life can be broken down into moments of transition, or moments…of revelation. This had the feeling of both.”
Babylon 5 – Z’Ha’Dum

Alright, I grant you that’s a portentous way to begin a long, long overdue update. But I have had a revelation, a most enjoyable one in fact. I spent the recent long weekend in Adelaide, at a LARP called Path of the Warden, and bugger me with a fish fork it was the most fun I’ve had in a long, long time. It seemed like one of those “Oh, after all this time this is the sort of thing I’m into” kind of moments. It was one of those times when everything gels – the venue, orgs, players, rules set and mood, just clicked. And I’m going to talk about it, at length, so STRAP IN KIDDIES IT’S ABOUT TO GET GEEKY.

Now, I know I’ve talked about it in the past, but that was the past and you may need a refresher. The setting is heavily inspired by The Witcher series, with a grim and dangerous world in which monsters are real, the Elves are all dead (Whoops…) and humanity’s saviour is an order of monster hunters, called the Wardens, who are organised into 3 schools.
1: The Ox. Heavily armoured and enhanced by potent mutagenic elixirs, they use two-handed weapons to crack through the toughest of monster hides.
2: The Raven. Adept at using rune-casting, the only school of magic available to humans.
3: The Serpent. The support staff, who brew potions, patch wounds and keep an eye on everyone else.

So, what actually happened? Well, there was swordplay, alchemy and sorcery. Brewing potions, studying ancient and terrifying lore. Desperate battle against savage beasts, frantic moments of terror, hands slick with the blood of grievously wounded comrades. Ghosts, monsters and an oddly lovable Harpy. A Troll who’s death was mourned. Death. Romance. An engagement. New and swiftly dear friends. Excitement and an unexpectedly massive emotional investment in my character from yours truly. It was a bloody good way to spend a long weekend. I don’t have enough time or space to give a full highlight reel, but I’ll try to summarise the highlights.

To start with, the rules were a joy. Simple, elegant and easy to get the hang of. None of this counting hit points stuff (Not that there’s anything wrong with that), but a more Nordic approach – if you take a light hit in the limb, you roleplay pain. Take a big hit (AKA, a two handed laboured strike with an appropriate yell, or a hit from a large creature), the limb is incapacitated, and a really big hit, it’s shattered and you’re down and/or screaming. See, simple. So long as everyone is up for the roleplay, right? Not having to count my hit points, or worry about what target zones don’t count (Obviously head and groin shots are banned) – it felt really freeing, and a lot more dangerous. Now, if you’re armoured, you can tank a certain amount of blows that hit the armour. Note, that doesn’t make you invulnerable though. Repeated blows will crack open even plate armour. This sort of thing can lead to hilarious situations, such as me on the Saturday night having my right arm savaged by a blow from a Necrophage (A cannibal mook, in short), and my left broken by a blow from a Troll. (A Troll who was previously a member of the Wardens, one of the Ox school who had overdosed on mutagens. STEVE WAS PEOPLE! PEOPLE!) Myself and another PC bonded over our various wounds that night, a moment which led to something wonderful, but more about that later.

The GM’s and crew were bloody lovely. I was nervous as all hell in the lead up to the event, with various shades of panic rattling through my head (Is my character sensible, will my kit match the standard?), so to be welcomed so wonderfully helped put my mind at ease. The players were also universally lovely and a pile of them have swiftly become near and dear friends. We fought together, bled together and triumphed together and that’s bonding. There was inclusivity (IC and OC pronouns were asked for and given), mechanics for escalation and de-escalation of roleplay were explained, combat demonstrations and how hard to hit given for those who’ve not gamed with them before. All wonderful stuff, and really appreciated.

And now, the event itself. We were playing trainees of the Wardens, the next generation of monster hunters. Some of us were here willingly, some to avoid the noose. Actually, about half of us were there to avoid the noose, my character among them. I was playing my regular well dressed idiot, who went by the name of Audemar DuLac, but with a scoundrel bent to him – a bit of Lando Calrissian, a pinch of Rick O’Connell and a lot of me. It’s easy to play, fit within the setting and meant I wasn’t too far from my comfort zone. Also, I had a very fine hat.

Hello there…

We had come to train, to learn and hopefully carry on the Warden’s mission, and were told that not all would survive, which we found out pretty damn quick during sword training when a PC tried to grab the instructor’s blade and got his throat cut for his trouble. Turned out later he was an NPC plant, but it sure as hell felt real at the time. There was a lot of learning on Day 1, how to use a sword, not eat leaves offered by Satyrs or accept deals with them unless you’re incredibly careful (Bargaining a rare flask of whiskey having eaten a leaf that was an aphrodisiac was worth it, though IC concealing a boner most of the day got awkward.) Mercifully the Lore Master had arranged that all deals were non-binding, but we’ll come back to the Satyr later*.

If the effects of Satyr Leaf last longer than 4 hours, please, see a doctor.

There followed lessons in rune-casting and potion making, which was the first massive revelation of how much work went into this event: we were actually making potions. Potions class was laid out with a mortar and pestle, small cauldron and other accoutrements at each table and we proceeded to crush, stir and brew up healing juice, known as Gulp. For someone used to collecting laminated tags in the woods this was fucking stunning and incredibly immersive. I believe the stuff was actually drinkable, but I, like several others, went for the role play option. The day passed in a blur of learning – target practise against a Necrophage, and combat training against a Troll. Both beasts were chained, though the guy holding back the Troll was about half the Troll’s weight, leaving him looking like he’d break free at any moment, and did, in the case of one PC who got badly mangled by him. That night brought forth dinner, bloody combat and the Troll both breaking loose and my arm. Bonding happened, more of the results of which will follow. A good first day.

There was a 6 month IC time gap between days 1 and 2, which my character had spent setting up a small black market on the garrison. Nothing heretical, just booze, party drugs, smut and birth control – important stuff for a lonely outpost in the middle of nowhere. Other PC’s spent their time doing things like teaching illiterate PC’s to read, the do-gooding chumps. (I kid, it was lovely) There is a further development though – remember the mention of the broken arm thing? Another PC I was in there with queried that morning as to whether we’d bonded further in the intervening time, and why not? Hell yeah I’m up for character development and connections. That led to discreet inquiries with the GM’s about relationships within the Wardens and I’m getting ahead of myself. Day 2 was more training, brewing fresh potions and extracting Troll fat. From the Troll. He’d had prosthetic wounds placed over his body, which we had to cut open, shift past the ‘muscle’ tissue (Blood soaked cotton wool I believe) and squeeze out the fat from underneath, and let me tell you, playing nauseated at that was VERY FUCKING EASY. Major points for immersion though. By that stage, we had chosen our Paths and were ready to begin, which involved reciting the oath and taking a dose of pepper to the tongue. Ow. Next up, emotions!

You see, as Serpents it’s part of our job to keep the others alive and the Run of the Ox (AKA their initiation) doesn’t always go well. So, when one of the Ox collapsed in front of me and we couldn’t save him, it was devastating. The PC had started as arrogant jerk, but his mauling by the Troll had cooled his blood somewhat. As I said at his funeral, he was an arrogant, overdressed jerk, but was one of us damnit. The surviving Ox hearing that only 1 died this year was a shock to them, as much as it was that they had to do the pepper test as well, a moment that had several of us Serpents inwardly fist pumping. I’m not sure what the Ravens had to do, I assume more pepper? Late in the day was more monster hunting, our first giant beast, though before that was me telling the PC I’d bonded with that I’d like to spend more time with her if I get back. The rest of my band (Adventuring party of one of each type of Warden) was suitably happy at the good news, and we managed to kill the beast without too much trouble, though a common theme of the hunts were people getting caressed on the inner thigh by the beast. Kinky… (Also, I love the random mechanic used for each hunt. This group may face a glass cannon, the next a tank etc.)

That night’s combat was hellish and stressful – between the Empty One (The Necrophage boss), the Haggard Bride (Long story, and I missed most of it) and the constant ghost attacks we were kept incredibly busy. A brief interlude, aka me telling the PC I’d bonded with I loved her made EVERYTHING WORTHWHILE. Not to mention the potion mistress’s face when I explained why I was shaking. Seriously, romance in LARP can be really fun and you should try it more. Telling the Serpent in my love’s hunting band she’d better keep her alive was a wonderful moment, and getting to play nervously waiting for them to return while we could hear the screams and yells of combat was incredibly stressful and utterly magical.

The Empty One just wants a hug, you know?

My abiding memory of the night, outside of my declaration of love, was of desperate surgery (The prosthetics I described earlier came out a couple more times, though thankfully were just sewing them up this time) and frantically trying to keep everyone alive. To my pride, we didn’t lose a single PC in the medical area that night, though I believe we lost a couple in the field. Healing was mostly warming people up who’d been touched by ghosts, or making sure injured people had taken Gulp. Those worse off had to take Bone Grow, and roleplaying setting a shattered limb back in place, it’s an experience. (As an aside, I really like roleplay healing not being immediate) I was kicking myself IC for not starting a betting pool on one PC, as it seemed he was attached to the med tent by a giant rubber band, so often was he back. I began to bleed pretty badly at a couple of points, shouting at one person that I’d stab them myself to keep them awake, or nearly screaming when it was pointed out to me my love had returned badly wounded. Emotions are wonderful things and I feel them, a lot.

Long and bloody was the night’s combat, unrelenting and brutal. Much blood was shed, both Warden and foe but ultimately we emerged victorious. Post time out drinks and talk followed and reinforced how bloody lovely the group is. Also, I knew none of them beforehand, which means they’d heard none of my gaming stories and my wife wasn’t around to count how many times she’d heard me tell them. *air guitar solo*

Monday was a half day, with another time skip, our IC graduation and choosing our first assignments, at which points we said our goodbyes and walked off into the world. I shed a tear of two of joy. More emotions and photos followed. You’ll be pleased to know my IC lady and I got some of us as a couple, at which point I took off one of my rings and dropped to one knee (I’d warned her beforehand and given her the option of refusal, but I’m really glad she went for it) and oh, there was a mighty squeal of joy from some who noticed. I cannot wait to see the photos, though I’m slightly terrified of what expression is on my face. I was told later I was her first LARP boyfriend, to which I responded I can only hope I’ve set a near unattainable standard for any future ones. The epitome of modesty I am. And then it was pack up, clean up, and back to reality.

I was in no way ready to go back there though. This game has done a number on me, to the extent I’m writing fanfic about my band’s further adventures, something I’ve never felt like doing before. It was a joy, and I can’t thank everyone involved enough. I began as a petty scoundrel who cared not about death and ended up a Warden, proud of my achievements and engaged to a mighty woman. True, it doesn’t take the cake for most emotional damage (Red Sister’s, Black Skies still holds that record), but it came damn close. The most frustrating part was that it was designed as a one-off, and I’ll be gutted if I don’t get to play Audemar again, not just cause I may have some notes on his wedding vows somewhere. (I don’t want it to be a massive part of any future event, but the idea of getting to play it amuses me greatly.)

It was emotional, exhausting and inspiring. I can’t wait to do it again. It’s games like this why I love LARP so damn much.

*My lady may have arranged for a threesome with us and the Satyr when we return. I missed the IC signals during dinner, but when explained was up for it, even without more Satyr leaf.

(In game pictures from the Path of the Warden Facebook group.)

“Toss a coin to your Warden, o valley of plenty.”

Look, a lot of my regular updates are about things going wonky, usually my brain. And yes, that continues. Shocked, gambling, winnings etc. So, as a nice change of pace, I thought I’d make this update about a few things that are going right in my life, or that deserve some celebration. Trying to concentrate on the positive is tricky, but needs to be done from time to time. I’m sure my brain will sabotage it soon, but for now I will embrace it. Or in the words of Kurn, son of Mogh, “This is not a time to worry about stabilizers. It is a time to celebrate, for tomorrow we all may die!”

I could listen to Tony Todd read a phonebook. I suspect I am far from alone in that. *ahem* I also suspect that my relative lack of interest in Star Trek: Discovery can in part be traced to the fact it’s Klingons just aren’t hair metal enough for me.

The first big of good news! I graduated at sword! Having recently demonstrated my skills against different opponents, I have qualified as a Scholar in Single Sword and Sword and Dagger. A 2 minute bout may not seem that long, and a kilo may not seem like much to hold up, but that changes quickly. Very quickly. Having an opponent who prefers longsword come at me no holds barred, no beg your pardons was something of a shock and took some frantic adjusting to – I’m used to a more measured offence from the other rapier fencers in my group, and dirty tricks from my instructor.

Either way, I’m all but certain this is the first sporting trophy/certificate I’ve ever gotten that wasn’t participation based and to say I’m pleased by it is something of an understatement. Having your instructor tell me afterwards that at the start of the term he didn’t think I was going to pass, has me feeling, I want to say, pride? Sure, there’s some shock and astonishment as well, but I’m genuinely proud of the achievement and it’s been a while since I’ve felt that about something I did. Last term was full of that sort of thing – bouting against him halfway through he said he had to reach into the top of his bag of dirty tricks to hit me and I walked away from that lesson flying. My wife has already framed the certificate, another reason I love her so much.

Am I a good fencer? Possibly. If I was good I’d dodge more forearm shots, or not give my opponents the opportunity for them in the first place.
Am I having fun? A resounding HELL YES.

My wife has noted that swords brings me more joy than well, near anything, right now, even more so than gaming. Physical exercise and I have never been friends, but put a sword in my hand and all of a sudden it becomes something I’m willing and eager to do. Maybe things are just more fun with swords? I do know I’d dearly love the chance to tell the likes of Mandy Patinkin, Oliver Platt and Michael York just how happy their work has made me, and that without them I may never have picked up a rapier. My life is better for having done so, and I can’t thank them enough. I have a blade of my own due at the end of January and the anticipation is killing me.

That fight may even best the Duel on the Cliffs as my favourite cinematic fight, because as jaw dropping as the choreography is, and it’s truly amazing, at no point do Inigo or The Man in Black look like they’re actually trying to kill each other. Yes, I’m aware they’re both Flynning, I’ve read the book, but that’s not the point. The point is, I watch the above clip and Michael York genuinely looks like he’s trying to kill Christopher Lee and that make it feel more authentic. Plus it’s one of the few cinematic duels I’ve seen where both participants are exhausted by the end of it and I bloody love that touch. I’d dearly love a comprehensive making of documentary for the films, as I’ve read numerous different accounts of injuries, actors having to double for their stunt doubles or the conversation between Oliver Reed and Christopher Lee that went something like: Then I said to Oliver, ‘Do you remember who taught you how to use a sword?’ He said, ‘You did.’ And I said, ‘Don’t you forget it.’ I want, nay need, the full version of that story.

Going from steel swords to foam, I’ve booked at an upcoming LARP, Path of the Warden. It’s a 3 and a bit day event loosely inspired by The Witcher series, running in SA mid next year and I’m kind of excited. It was a fairly spur of the moment thing – I’ve been waiting for Swordcraft Brisbane to announce dates, this one was running and I need things in the calendar to keep me going, so yeah… There’s a structure to the event that appeals, as my big issue with large events is “What do I actually do?” I’m pretty rubbish at things like making my own fun at large events. That’s why while I’m keen to go something like Swordcraft Quest, I’d prefer to go as a group, as if I go solo it’s likely I’ll get overwhelmed, and spend the entire time nervously wandering round and not actually doing anything. Hence the appeal of Warden. Now comes the frustrating part – what character do I play? The eternal struggle begins again.

There’s three base classes, or Warden Schools – The Ox, who are all big weapon potion make strong smashy smashy, the Raven, who use rune magic to empower their weapons*, and the Serpent, alchemists and healers, more support staff. Of those three, it’s the Ox and Serpent that interest me more. Initially it was just the Serpent, but then Anvil of Crom came up on my playlist and well, long term readers will have some hint as to the effect that song has on me. Actually, a lot of decisions in my life have revolved around when I last heard Anvil of Crom. I’m still a bit saddened I didn’t get to play it during the Zedtown at the SCG, even if only while the crew made our venue check. Just to hear “Between the time the oceans drank Atlantis, and the rise of the sons of Aryas” and I could have dropped dead happy. I sorely miss that game, though I doubt it will ever return. Alas.

So, characters. The idea I’m currently running with is ‘the spare to the heir who’s determined to do something good in his life’, which is a minor variation on well meaning and very pretty idiot, basically my stock RPG character. It’s got a decent dramatic hook, potential for growth and lets me dress fancy. One of these may be slightly less important than the other, but a large part of why I LARP is costume, so yeah. The second most prominent idea was ‘unrepentant thief who may discover responsibility and comradeship in a good cause’, I’d like to say inspired by Avon and Villa from Blake’s 7 with a tiny dash of Locke Lamora. Mostly the idea of being introduced to the other PC’s while I’m being unlocked from shackles amuses me greatly. You’re finally awake…

There’s the typical flood of other ideas (Former City Watchmen dragged out of retirement and very much Too Old For This Shit was one. I’d need to re-read the City Watch novels if I chose that one, and oh the horror that research would be), but weeding out the one’s that are going to be fun for me to play in the long term has always been far harder than coming up with the ideas in the first place. I’m pleased that a lot of them aren’t based around a piece of kit or weapon – that’s been the downfall of many a character of mine in the past. Playing an older man who’s near death, who has lost everyone in his life and seeks to do something worthy of remembering has a nice dramatic hook, but when it comes to character bleed I’m a haemophiliac, so that one may not work so well. It’s been more than 5 years and I still get a little emotional hearing Sabaton’s Night Witches. if you read this, thank you Melody.

Other issues include the fact that I’m flying there, so while taking large weapons and heavy armour isn’t impossible, it’s certainly inconvenient. Clearly another vote for Serpent. And yet, as I write this, I’m still tempted to clank it up. The War Factory make a gorgeous looking leather cuirass (The one in their store appears to have recently sold), Make Your Own Medieval have a decent breastplate in their discount section, and the overwhelming options begins again. Sigh. What mostly puts me off is how long it’s been since I’ve regularly worn armour and the faint memories of hauling it around. It’s a good drawback to remember, much like how much less kit is needed to fence rapier rather than say, longsword. Still, I’ve time up the sleeve, thankfully.

Moving along, Glass Onion is a sheer delight and immensely satisfying. If you’ve not seen it, or Knives Out for that matter, run and do not walk to do so. And if you’ve no idea what I’m talking about, do so as well. Just don’t watch any trailers – there’s a reveal in the first film you won’t want spoiled. To say it utterly caught my wife and I by surprise when we watched Knives for the first time was something of an understatement. The first things that comes to mind are me nearly falling off the couch laughing during The Fart Song from Bob’s Burgers, or my wife when Kylie Minogue appeared on Galavant. I’m not joking – her jaw dropped in shock and I was genuinely concerned for a second, before she burst out laughing and didn’t stop till the song did.

Every time I watch that show I somehow forget that Timothy Olyphant can sing. Not sure how I can manage that, as he’s a wonderful voice, but that’s my brain for you. Turning to styles of music more my tastes, Skindred and Metallica have both announced new albums and it’s about damn time for both groups. I’m expecting to be disappointed tour dates wise, but new material will help cover that wound. Combine that with the (relatively) recent announcement from Scott Lynch that he’s sent new Gentlemen Bastards material to his editor. By Crom it’s good to have things to look forward to again.

Time for sleep. Night all. Sleep well. I’ll most likely kill you in the morning.

*Also, I don’t think Explosive Runes is a thing in the setting otherwise I’d be all over that.

“You know where the **** you are?”

Guns N’ Roses, with Cosmic Psychos and The Chats.
Accor Stadium Sydney, November 27th.

This was a day a long time coming, and I don’t just mean the gig, delayed near 2 years owing to Covid. This was something 13 year old me had dearly hoped for and 42 year old also dearly hoped for. As a beardless youth (Yes, back in the dawn of time you could see my chin) Appetite for Destruction was the angriest thing I’d heard, and while it’s long been eclipsed on that front (I hadn’t yet heard Slayer for one thing), side A (Kids, ask your parents what that means) still holds a lot of nostalgic power for me. For all I talk about my punk credentials, at heart I’m a metal guy, and the more over the top the better. Call me what you will, just don’t call me afraid to air guitar.

As for Guns, that early fire soon died away in a chemical, financial and egomaniacal haze. With singer Axl Rose the last remaining of the original group, it didn’t feel like Guns anymore. The bad blood between Axl and everyone else was legendary, the endless squabbling and lawsuits, and the seemingly never ending saga that was the Chinese Democracy album, to quote the song Pretty Tied Up:
Once there was this rock n’ roll band
Rollin’ on the streets
Time went by and it became a joke.
We just needed more and more fulfilling… uh-huh
Time went by and it all went up in smoke

So, news of guitarist Slash and bassist Duff McKagan’s return in 2016 for the aptly named ‘Not in this Lifetime’ tour was met with joy and nervousness. Could they set aside all that bad blood? Could they recapture the fire they once had, and lost to drugs and egos? Could Axl’s voice hold up? Could Slash’s top hat still stay magically attached to his head? Did Axl ever destroy the white biker jacket he wore in the Paradise City video, or did he pass it on to Lars Ulrich? Inquiring minds want answers!

The choice of supports was baffling, to say the least. To be fair, Guns have a history with Australian rock, covering Rose Tattoo’s Nice Boys (Don’t Play Rock And Roll) back in the day. But choosing two of the more aggressively well, Australian, acts out there, despite the Psychos long history and the Chats hot new thing status, still doesn’t match to me, with the last burst of genuine aggression from the 80’s LA glam scene. Still, that’s why I’m not booking gigs I guess.

I enter the venue and embark on a journey to find my seat as the Psychos are early in their set, and Nice Day To Go To The Pub blares out. It’s frequently a thankless task as a support band, but they do their thing with abandon, guitarist John McKeering showing off his… substantial lack of abs during closer David Lee Roth. Next up, The Chats, and I find myself craving a pub schnitty. Coincidence? The venue’s verging on half full by the time they start, and that’s where things get…. Hmmm. Now, the bass sound for the Psychos I’d expected, but the Chat’s sound is even worse, not helped by the bands seeming tendency to play even faster than on disc. In a smaller venue that might work better, but in a half full stadium it turns the gig into a blur. I’m reminded of the difference in the Ramones albums It’s Alive and Loco Live – the former is at full speed, the latter is at ludicrous speed and the worse for it. Mostly it reminds me of my preference for smaller venues – stadium size pyro and staging are a lot of fun – it’s always amazing seeing the giant Eddie emerge at an Iron Maiden gig – but being packed in a tiny room and 3 feet from the stage while jams are kicked out, that’s a feeling like few others for me.

“Who’s keen for the Gunners? Bad news, we’ve a couple more songs.” That line from Chats singer Eamon Sandwith immediately lodged itself in my ‘Greatest Things I’ve Heard on Stage’ List. Off they go, and then comes the rain. And yes, the gig was in November. *sighs* The skies been threatening all afternoon, and now the heavens open. This delays Guns by about 20 minutes or so, waiting for lightning strikes to pass, but the intro tape finally begins, the bass rumble of It’s So Easy starts up and we’re off and running. I am also off and air guitaring, in news that should surprise no-one. There’s Ukrainian flags side stage and Axl has an Aboriginal flag and kangaroo warning sign on his pants. Nice. He also has a fine line in stage jackets, at least two of which I was disappointed to find replicas weren’t available outside the show, not to mention the hat he wore during Paradise City. Cosplayers, do your thing!

Mr Brownstone and Chinese Democracy follow, as does the first cover of the night, Velvet Revolver’s Slither. First impressions are that Duff McKagan has aged very, very well while Axl’s voice has lost a little of it’s youthful power, that scream still remains. I could make a unfair comparison to Vince Neil‘s recent vocal struggles, but that would mean admitting his voice had any power in the first place and that’s a hill I will die on. Voices change for most people and that’s fine- there’s only one Ronnie James Dio after all. Anyhow, we get the first of several indulgent solos (Link Wray’s Rumble, to be precise), till a familiar echo pedal kicks in and we know where the fuck we are, we’re in the jungle baby! I’m pretty sure my grin is a mile wide at this point. On goes the show – Live and Let Die, despite the middle section, cracks like thunder, and the solos (For Slash and rhythm guitarist Richard Fortus) during Rocket Queen have me thinking it’s time to quest to the toilet. Any discomfort is forgotten at the intro to You Could Be Mine – I’m curious what the people around me though what was I doing as I raise my arms to the sky in joy, assuming they weren’t looking at the stage AS THEY SHOULD BE. It’s around this time I notice there’s a sizable gap around me – the people a few rows in front are wearing plastic ponchos or dealing with the rain and most of the people behind have retreated under the awning, so I have several rows to myself. It’s as if the universe went “See the mad fucker air guitaring like he’s possessed – just stay the fuck away from him.”



I’ve no idea if anyone was watching me. At the end one of the friends I went with said “You looked like you were having a good time” I’ve not gone thought their footage yet to see if I made the cut, and I’d likely be incredibly embarrassed to see myself. Live music light’s a fire under me like few other things can. There just seemed to be a lot of folks just in their seats watching the show calmly and those who’ve been with me to shows know that is most certainly NOT how I roll. Once again, my bladder desperately tries to get my attention, as Axl hands the mic over to Duff, but another familiar rumble begins and suddenly I’m going nuts to I Wanna Be Your Dog. I seem to be the only one around me doing so. Philistines. A massive Ukrainian flag on the monitor intros Civil War and Slash get’s another solo. I’d rather have heard Out ta Get Me or Don’t Damn Me myself, but let’s be fair here – the man could walk onstage, fart in a kazoo and leave and we’d still likely go ape shit. Sweet Child O’ Mine induces a massive sing along as the place is lit by smart phones and November Rain feels oddly short. Worth it for the solo though.

We’re getting close to the end of the night and I’m feeling punch drunk with joy and exhaustion. No time to rest though, as the intro to AC/DC’s Whole Lotta Rosie has me up and racing around, albeit nervously, as I’d rather not stack it over the chairs. I love the idea of mosh pits, but I know my tolerance for pain and it’s piss poor. Knocking On Heaven’s Door and Nightrain close things out and I mercifully collapse. A short wait and they return, with Coma and the acoustic double bill of Don’t Cry and Patience cooling things, but the couple in front of me tenderly embracing through the former 2 songs warms the heart and makes me wish my wife was there. The selfie I sent her earlier can in no way explain how happy I am. Live music isn’t her thing (with the notable exception of the upcoming tour by K-Pop group Stray Kids), but she does like seeing me happy.

To end things we get Paradise City, and a singalong ensues, before several thousand rather damp people try to find a train home. A group of people at the train station call out for Adam, a call that’s taken up by fellow passengers. Several calls of “I’m Adam and so is my wife!” ensue, along with “ADRIAN!” It’s good humoured, unlike some post gig moments I’ve had over the years. The 1:47am coastal express from Central brings back unpleasant memories. Soon enough it’s my own bed, and trying not to wake my wife.

Many, many thanks to the friends who bought me a ticket all those years ago – hopefully you could tell how much fun I had. Hell of a show. Not without fault, between sound, setlist and an odd choice of supports, but no gig is perfect, with the possible exception of Maiden in 08, and Birdman at the Gaelic – they opened with Do The Pop and my head damn near exploded. But I can’t complain. 13 year old me got to live out a dream, and 42 year old got to look like a fool all in the name of fun. What more can you ask for?

To swash a buckle or two?

Stuff. Feeling over tired and ratty, mostly owing to not being as diligent as I should be in turning the light out, putting the book/device down and going the fuck to sleep. I’ve got tickets to three upcoming shows, Metal Gods, Sunnyboys (on their final tour) and Heilung, each of which promise to be very different shows. I have really missed live music, though I must admit that my anticipation for Heilung is mostly based around how the hell will they actually perform this stuff live? I mean, there’s video, yes, but it’s such a bizarre idea that I’m genuinely curious to see how they’ll pull it off. The current term at sword will either greatly improve my fitness, or kill me. We were going to be doing single sword, but it’s now all bouting exercises, all the time. Based on last week I’ll be spending the few days after class with my sword arm and thighs screaming at me. It’s been fun so far. Hopefully I’ll survive long enough for the sword I’ve ordered to arrive. *fingers crossed*

Feedback came through for my Pheno event and it was… accurate. Thank you for not telling me during the con, as my nerves were so high that anything may have shattered me. I’m not saying the feedback didn’t hurt a bit, but it was true. Look, I’d like to say the reason we hadn’t started the final meeting with 30 minutes was important, but mostly because people seemed to be busily running about getting stuff done and I didn’t want to interrupt that. Not wanting to interrupt fun for actual story has long been an issue with me as a GM. It’s something I’ll have to remember for my next event, of which I’m trying to bash out some basic concepts and give it a few weeks to ferment in the back of my head. I’m hoping that will then leave my head for a bit, so I can get back into prep work for The Troubleshooters, which is woefully overdue from when I first got a group keen on playing. I might pick up a season of two of The Man from UNCLE and Mission Impossible to get the brain going again. Oh, and actually try to learn the game’s system. No matter how simple the system, I always struggle with them. Case in point: I love the idea of Genesys as a system, but I find I hate it’s implementation into Star Wars. The base idea is fine, I like the set of mechanics around success and failure, though it’s too fiddly for me to actually run it. I’m happy to use ideas like that and have, but the implementation of it just makes my brain hurt. Also, it conflicts horribly with the vision of Star Wars in my head, something that’s fast moving action adventure, not having to scroll through 5 pages of Specializations to remember whether you have a thing that will let you roll an extra die on this check. But that’s my take not yours, and I in no way want to shame people for their taste in systems. Unless it’s FATAL, in which case, fuck off.

Speaking of things that refuse to leave my head, here goes. I’d post this in LARPS I Will Never Run, but I still have some hope of actually doing something with it someday. For background: about 10 years ago I ran a tabletop swashbuckler I can sum up as ‘The Three Musketeers, but with monsters.’ It went rather well, being the first con game I’ve run that I felt actually worked, in that it was fun for me to write and run. It used the system Honor + Intrigue, though the idea was inspired by the RPG All For One: Regime Diabolique, a game who’s premise I love, but who’s system I just could not get to grips with. Still, there’s a Savage Worlds conversion should I ever wish to head down that route in future. There were sequels, the first of which taught me that sometimes my references can be too obscure (The McGuffin was a gourd of Getafix’s magic potion, which surprisingly few people got. One player nearly falling off his chair in laughter made up for a lot of that) and a later ’15 years after’ sequel, which introduced gender equality to my events in the form of 3 members of the Queen’s Musketeers (The idea was taken from an All For One supplement). I look back on them fondly, and from time to time have had thoughts of running more. I’ve long contemplated a re-run of the first adventure for my niece’s gaming group, as while I have no issue with them playing nothing but D&D, I do feel that expanding their horizon a little is a good thing. Also, I don’t believe they’ve seen any Musketeers films, and that us something I cannot let pass.

So, where am I going with all this? Well, the LARP’s All For One and Musketeers have been stuck in the back of my head for a while which means yes, I’ve had a Musketeers type LARP ratting round the back of the head for a while. I’ve got a Google Doc with a bunch of ideas that I add to every so often, but I’ve never quite had the nous to try to get it together. The positive feedback from Pheno may have given me some help towards that, but I have more than enough projects on the go at the moment. So, the idea was a traditional Musketeers type game, with dashing swordspeople, fancy garb and all manner of heroics. Intrigue involving the Spanish or English, discreet (and not so discreet) romance, drinking and brawls with the Cardinal’s Guards. To add to that – monsters! Gargoyles lurk amidst the nights of Paris, the forests echo with the howls of werewolves, cultists worship dark gods in horrific ceremonies and those rumours about a crocodile in the sewers are terrifyingly true. Permadeath is a thing, but the risk depends on the event. I envisage the game being a few weekenders rather than an ongoing monthly game, with each event having a risk rating. So, the grand ball would be a low threat of PC deaths, while the final battle against the enemies of France would be all bets are off.

From what I’ve heard about Musketeers, the fact it was a stealth sequel to an earlier game, St Wolfgang’s Vampire Hunters, was something of a surprise. The reveal that Athos, Porthos, Aramis and D’Artagnan were vampires apparently didn’t go over well with everyone. Fair call that. Likely the whole monster angle will be relatively public going in (IE, the players will know, but the PC’s likely won’t), but will be unavailable as PC’s. Yes, that means no PC vampires, wizards, etc.

I’m not sure quite why I want this game to happen so much. Probably cause I’m learning rapier, which has been the majority of my sword-type experience in the last few years, and I’d love to do more of it, albeit without the stabs to the face common to historical rapier. Because I want to wear a cape and a giant hat? Do I need another reason than that? And why the hell am I writing this instead of writing the game itself? Well, I’m mostly writing this to get it out, and thus to hopefully put it out of my head for the time being. I should be concentrating on Bombshells (Who’s last session didn’t go well, but that’s another story) and Troubleshooters, so other ideas taking up valuable brain space has been irritating. Therefore, I take this step.

Anyhow, the plan to have an early night tonight has long gone, but I still have my limits. So, be seeing you…

You’ve been down too long in the midnight sea


Dio: Dreamers Never Die (2022)

I laughed, I air guitared, I wept.

I’ve long tried to explain just how and why heavy metal means so much to me. How these absurd songs performed by (mostly) men in denim and leather* (and occasionally spandex) have given me a reason to get up, to keep going, to light my darkest hours. This is music that took a scrawny, perpetually anxious kid and gave him a sense of purpose, of strength. A feeling of belonging, the sense that someone halfway across the world felt as fucked up and miserable as I did, and put it in a song. For years Black Sabbath’s Paranoid was my theme tune and I still can’t decide if that was a good thing. Still, likely better than Snowblind, eh? To be clear, I had a relatively happy childhood, and love my parents. Don’t take this the wrong way. But depression and anxiety, we’ve known each other a very long time.

Metal became an outlet for my frustrations, a way of venting my fury at well, the world. An outlet for exploring things I denied myself, or didn’t feel comfortable admitting. I’m still coming to terms with a lot of those sorts of issues. It’s been said that my love of tales of rock and roll excess, while not partaking myself, is one of the great hypocrisies of my life and I’d agree with you on that. Control issues, and not being willing to let go? Yeah, that’s me. Despite all that, emotion is something I do at full blast, whether that be attempting to explain Babylon 5 to my mother in law without spoiling how Sleeping in Light breaks me into tiny pieces or the fact that just typing the words Tales of Ba Sing Se has me trying, and failing, not to cry. So, there’s going to be some wild and over the top hyperbole incoming, and I mean every fucking word of it.

I was aware of the works of Ronnie James Dio, mostly as an 80’s throwback. I discovered metal in the 90’s, aka the decade described by comedian and metal fan Andrew O’Neill as ‘when all your favourite bands went shit.’ It was a strange time – Iron Maiden and Judas Priest lost iconic frontmen (happily both returned after a few years), Metallica released the Black album and gained twice as many fans than they lost and to this day I still can’t stand Pantera – not that the band are bad, but every fan of theirs I knew at the time was a violent meathead and the association stuck. Now, I’m not saying every Pantera fan is a violent thick headed fuckwit, but you may have to work to prove you aren’t one. (I have the same problem with Australian flag capes and Southern Cross tattoos.) Singer Phil Anselmo’s far right outbursts over the years haven’t helped things either. It was a time when the more absurd excesses of the 80’s were (mostly) swept under the rug and songs about dragons and wizards were not on the agenda.

So yeah, I was aware of Dio, mostly through the gloriously Dungeons and Dragons-esque video for Holy Diver. It wasn’t until the release of the Black Sabbath compilation The Dio Years that I truly dug into his work and holy crap, it was one of those ‘Where has this been all my life?’ kind of moments, much like my first viewing of Big Trouble in Little China. Yes, these were ridiculous songs about dragons, kings and the power of rock and roll, and that’s exactly my aesthetic. And by Crom, that voice. For someone who claimed to have had no formal vocal training, the power in his voice could shake rooms. The way it lets rip in The Last in Line, or the sheer power in Falling Off the Edge of the World. His delivery of “Look out there’s danger. nowhere to run!” is enough to smash you back against the wall. Therefore, it was quite surprising to discover that his earliest releases were 50’s doo-wop. The man knew of a time before rock and roll…

We get taken through the evolution of his sound, the car crash that nearly killed him and the formation of Elf, who became regular openers for Deep Purple which in turn led to the formation of Rainbow when Purple guitarist Ritchie Blackmore quit. While massively popular in Europe and Japan, they couldn’t crack America and those cracks only got larger when Blackmore decided to move in a more commercial direction. Hence, the first of several dust ups (A running theme of sorts) when Dio stuck to his guns and quit.

Looking for work and running out of money, he stumbled across Tony Iommi in the Rainbow Bar and Grill and the rest, as they say, is history. The album that resulted, Heaven and Hell, lit a fire under Sabbath who’d spent the previous few years in a cocaine haze, but alas, things fell apart during the mixing of the album Live Evil and Dio was out on his own again. It takes us through the glory days of the 80’s, dust ups with band members (Vivian Campbell is heard, not seen) and the dark days of the 90’s, (There’s no mention of his short lived return to Black Sabbath for 1992’s Dehumanizer nor of his messy exit when he refused to support Ozzy Osbourne) and of his return to glory with the retro metal movement of the late 90’s/early 2000’s. Getting to see him with the reunited Sabbath, billed as Heaven and Hell, in 2007 was a bucket list moment, even with the prat a few rows over who kept yelling for Holy Diver. When someone finally managed to explain they were only doing Sabbath songs, the guy started yelling for Paranoid. *sighs*

Alas, we know how the story ends with Dio’s death from cancer in May 2010, and I have zero shame whatsofuckingever in admitting I was weeping at that point. We get to see his final on-camera interview, and given how he’s talking about making another Heaven and Hell record, it’s hard not to feel robbed. Yes, he was 67, but he still had more to give. It wasn’t over, he didn’t get to go out on his terms and that still hurts me.

The film’s a mostly warts and all story of triumph and tragedy, that showcases a man who loved music and was determined to do things his way, no matter the consequences. Someone who loved what he did, no matter how small the venue, and from the video footage we see of some 90’s gigs, the venues were pretty bloody small. Someone who’d anything for a fan, even to the extent of helping talk down a suicidal fan with the offer of a hug. The bonus footage from the cinema screening contained some extra gems, with the story told by Jack Black about Dio overpowering 3 top of the line microphones while recording his part for Tenacious D’s The Pick of Destiny a highlight for me.

If you’re a fan, you’ll be all over this. And if not, what are you doing with your life? Put some headphones on, Fire up Heaven and Hell and you too will know the glory that was Ronnie James Dio.

That he was taken shed a tear,
His legacy remains,
So he will never die.
Be aware that he’s coming for you.
Look out, look out, look out!
Three Inches of Blood – Look Out

* It brought us all together….

“Hello old friend. It’s been a while.”

Pheno. Great Maker, it’s been far too damn long. My throat is sore, the adrenaline is crashing and I’ll like sleep like the dead now that I’m back at home. I hadn’t realized just how much I’d missed that con. The people, the atmosphere, the spirit, the snacks. The mix of familiar and strange. Friends I hadn’t seen since the before times. If you’ve not tried it, I can’t recommend it enough. They’re a lovely, welcoming bunch of weirdoes and long may they remain so. The appeal of conventions for me is games I wouldn’t get to play in my regular group is a massive part of why I keep coming back. The sheer variety of games on offer, and knowing that I’ll only get to play some, well, it’s the price we pay as GM’s. To say I was a bundle of nerves in the lead up was putting it fucking mildly. I’d had my game idea stuck in my head for what seemed like 5 years, and the brain hasn’t been co-operative at the best of times. Terrified of trying something out of my comfort zone, something in a universe that means so much to me, and terrified in general. A deep delve into obscure lore in a section of a near 30 year old TV show that has next to no existing canon? It’s a risk, right? The game itself was finished the night before (Naughty, I know) and in the lead up I kept telling myself that I’d never do anything this ambitious again.

And you know what happened?

It worked.

HOLY ZARQUON SINGING FISH, IT WORKED. The game worked, my players enjoyed themselves, I had a bunch of them costume (Including several home made Minbari head bones) and even the people who hadn’t seen B5 seemed to enjoy things. I had a couple of players say they were going to dive into the lore afterwards and there are few higher compliments to me. It wasn’t till halfway through the first session till I realized that it was working, and I damn near wept with joy. The first time I saw people in costume for my game my jaw hit the floor, and I was still reeling from a “Hey, I’ve heard people saying lovely things about your game” from a GM who’s Night Sisters freeform broke me into tiny little pieces several years ago. I still have trouble hearing something Russian and not getting choked up with emotion, but I’m certain that someone 5 miles away could whisper “The Tales of Ba Sing Se” during a thunderstorm and I’d start to cry. Hearing someone say they took a week off work to costume for your event, I’m glad they told me after the game as I may have collapsed in shock beforehand.

It wasn’t all me though, far from it. I can’t thank my helpers enough. To my Co-GM and proof readers/wranglers, you know who you are and an entire fleet of drinks can’t come close to thanking you for the help, improv and encouragement. If it wasn’t for them, the game would still be a half written Google Doc. Since I’m giving thanks, no mention of this event could not mention J Michael Straczynski and the late Mira Furlan, without whom my event would not have happened. It’s felt through a lot of the writing process I’ve had Furlan looking over my shoulder, saying “Don’t fuck this up” and yeah, it’s added a tiny amount to the pressure. It’s not for me to say whether or not I measured up to the show, but my players enjoyed themselves and that’s what’s important.

We also did our part to foster the next generation by taking Niece, Age 14 with us and given she’d only ever played D&D, to her to walk away with 3 trophies was quite the achievement. We’re very proud of the tiny lumberjack. I asked her afterwards if she was coming back next year as a GM and got a firm “HELL NO”, so given that I figure she’ll be running games in oh, 2-3 years. To top it all off, our team wound up winning the Diptych award, which means Squadron 40 will soon be engraved on that mighty trophy. Naturally, we have to return next year to defend our accomplishment!


As for what happened in game? Look, a lot of it’s a blur. The first 3 sessions elected a different Chosen One to lead the Council, while the 4th session decided they didn’t need one. It wasn’t a unanimous vote, but enough got it over the line. 10 minutes into the first session the Warrior Caste sent their entire fleet out to look for the Shadows. The second session was closest to the show, being more quiet and contemplative (The two introverts did wonderfully) and in session 3 one of the Council punched Ranger One in the face. The two Council members in Session 4 who went to talk to the Vorlon about exploring Z’Ha’Dum, and their faces at it’s response of “Ill advised. Have been warned.” My favourite quote is still “Valen said the Shadows would return. He didn’t say the Vorlons would return.” and look, they aren’t wrong. Seeing the ways my players took the sheets and ran with them, frequently in areas I hadn’t considered, was a joy. It’s one of the big reasons why I GM. There were a few people who’d queried their approaches with me, and to them I say “If that’s the approach you have from reading the sheet, then go for it.” Who am I to stifle player creativity?

I’m still buzzing on a high from the whole thing, and yes, I’m already planning for next year. Before the con I was thinking about going back to swashbuckling, but with the confidence boost I’m in the early stages of planning another Babylon 5 freeform, this one set in the Centauri Royal Court. No, this isn’t just to see what people do costume wise, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t thinking of that. I’m unsure as to the time period, but the current idea is the Emperor is dead, and that’s set the power vacuum to 11. Sure, everyone wants the power of being the Emperor, but no-one wants the giant target on their chest that results from sitting in the big chair. I have a strong feeling I should get a hold of a copy of The Prince for flavour while writing and should prep a bunch of spare characters, as I don’t expect everyone to make it out alive.

It has been a glorious weekend and I am spent. Time for sleep. Be seeing you, my good, dear friends…

*blows dust off* *coughs*

Been a while. I’d like to say I’ve been off doing stuff, having amazing adventures and what not, but I’ve mostly been in a brutal depressive funk. Now, it’s not been all bad. There’s been some delightful stuff in that time – I went to my first live concert in 3 years and holy crap I was feeling out of shape the next day. I wasn’t even going at it that hard. Lawnmower Deth’s Into the Pit has never felt so appropriate.

Speaking of things I’ve badly missed, I spent the long weekend at a LARP, and while there were parts I had issues with (Not in a bad way, more a me being tired and cranky kind of way), spending the Saturday night sitting around a fire and swapping stories while wearing a cloak, I damn near wept. I’d missed that so much. That game has ended now, and will be replaced by a fantasy post apocalypse game. Hmmm. I’m still planning on going, but I’d be lying if I said I was keen on the post-apoc angle. I like escapism in my entertainment, more so in times such as these. I still haven’t found a LARP that’s running near me that will let me buckle my swash to a satisfactory degree, and while I know of two games that are currently running, one’s a battle game and I had a bad first experience at the other that soured me on it. Lest you think I’m warning you off it, I’m told by friends who attend the admin team has almost completely changed, as has the atmosphere, so please don’t let me stop you. I have no interest in stomping on anyone’s fun.

Speaking of rock and roll, some Googling brought about a wonderful blast from the past. I’ve spoken in the past about a Datsun’s gig, where the normally 6 minute Freeze Sucker became a near 15 minute epic. I NOW HAVE VIDEO. Thanks to a kind soul with a YouTube account, 23 year old me is somewhere down at the front, skinny, barely bearded (Yes, it was a long time ago) and flailing around with a grin on his face a mile wide. I kinda lost touch with the Datsuns after that album, as their second one seemed to be writing songs as opposed to a jam session that was recorded, which was my take on their debut. That’s not a bad thing mind you – look at the difference in the Saints from I’m Stranded to Eternally Yours. While Nights in Venice has that full tilt everything’s about to melt down energy, Chris Bailey’s sneer of “It’s all so funny, I can’t laugh” on This Perfect Day is well, perfect and Orstralia deserves to be a national anthem.

Gaming continues to bring joy. Bombshells has added a new player, one of my wife’s work friends, and she’s fitted in seamlessly. Case in point, they were pursuing someone through a crowded park, and she proceeded to grab a picnic basket and hurl it at the fleeing suspect. She then immediately apologised to the couple who’s picnic she interrupted. Her character is Canadian after all. But on the flipside, I have players keen for Troubleshooters, but I keep staring at blank pages. To add to that, my Babylon 5 freeform has been accepted to Pheno in October, and I’m hoping third time’s the charm, both for the convention running and for me actually finishing the damn thing.

Kenobi continues to be wonderful, both to the nostalgia loving parts of my brain (Yes, I do have other parts to my brain, though my wife may disagree with that. To her credit, she continually tries to get me interested in things younger than I am, in the hope I’ll outlive more of them) and the part that is loving watching Ewan McGregor. For all I may mock the overly twirly moments, his lightsaber technique is gorgeous. Also, I hasped with delight at seeing Indira Varma, leading to my wife asking what that was about. At the end of the episode I explained, only to be met with a stern, “Yes, I know who she is, it’s hard not to forget her from Rome“, and while I’m mangling her exact words to remain spoiler free, YOU SHOULD HAVE WATCHED ROME BY NOW. I first met a friend when she was wearing a “What would Titus Pullo do?” shirt. Some of the people who asked were surprised by the sweary response. Can’t please everyone.

That’s enough for tonight. Be seeing you.