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They really have no concept of how this works. Their perceptions are so distorted that they think they’re being generous.post a comment
Well, the last week has been quite an adventure. I can’t get into details, but we’re working through a bit of a “legal hiccup” and we’ve been forced to delay the launch of the Kickstarter just a little bit. Evertide Games is treating this as an opportunity to add even more stuff to the campaign and make it even more awesomer-er… est. Our delay is your gain.
Nevertheless, I still want to offer my deepest apologies for this delay, which will be as short as we can possibly make it. I’ll keep you posted as much as I can through this blog or on Twitter.
Also, check out just a few of the stretch goal rewards that will be offered to supporters…
As always, thanks for reading!
~Thuntpost a comment
Two articles I've read recently that impressed me.
If you like your fantasy grimdark and your protagonists just this side of evil, Tor.com's doing a reread of Glen Cook's Black Company series. Note: although the first volume's ebook version is on sale for $2.99, if you want the whole series in ebook format, it'll be cheaper in the long run to get the collections instead. The reread's going to go fairly quickly, at a book every two weeks, so be prepared for that. :D
Well, the title more or less says it all, but let me say it again.
We want to do an omnibus edition of Digger. You guys asked (repeatedly!) and we think it’s a great idea!
The downside (and the reason we haven’t done it already) is that hardcover omnibuseseses require a big chunk of cash up front—we’re talking a big print job here, on the order of the Bone omnibus edition, and that does not run cheap. (Plus, of course, while people keep asking, we’re talking a spendy beast here and we want to make sure there’s enough interest to justify doing it!) Plus, if we get a LOT of interest, we can do all kinds of neat extras, like color inserts and cover embossing and extra stories and giant wombat balloons in the Macy’s Day Parade!*
So, in a couple of weeks, we’ll be Kickstartering! And we will have all kinds of neat goodies for sponsors (postcards! pins! pickaxes!) and also all kinds of mildly absurd goodies for sponsors (I believe at one level, I name a tree in the yard after you and put a little plaque with your name on it…) so watch this space for more information! You’ll be the first to know!
(Also, hey, Digger got nominated for the Mythopoeic Award, which is neat, too!)
*One of these things is a bald-faced lie.55 comments | post a comment
“Cammy is the perfect woman,” says Dennis Hof, owner of the Moonlite Bunny Ranch. “Cammy has a value system that comes from the fifties. We were on an airplane, and a pilot – a lady pilot – introduced herself to me. When she went back into the cockpit, Cammy said, ‘I’d rather she be serving Cokes and peanuts, and let a man be the pilot.’
“She designed her life around, ‘How can I please a man?’ She went to massage school, cooking school – she bought a book on blowjobs. I wish more girls would do that. If more girls did what Cammy’s doing… my business would go down.”
And good Lord, I am filled to brimming with revulsion.
The thing is, I’m not revulsed by Cammy’s choice. If Cammy is content living subserviently, and that makes her happy, then I say “Go, Cammy.” (Even if I suspect Cammy is perpetuating an elaborate ruse to extract cash from gullible men’s pockets. They say the best salesman never appears to be a salesman. Cammy’s probably getting exactly what she wants, from men who probably deserve it.)
But I’d never want a woman whose whole job was dedicated to pleasing me. That has nothing to do with feminism; it has everything to do with the fact that ultimately, I think humans turn into monsters when they have all of their needs met without cost.
Maybe that’s because I worked in retail – where if you’re smart, the attitude has to be, “The customer is always right.” Because you don’t want the customer to feel dumb; nothing closes a customer’s wallet quicker than, “Gee, your concerns are stupid.” And they’ll tell people how they were insulted, spreading bad tales about you wherever they go.
So when they cram your mouth full of shit, you swallow it and smile.
Working retail, eventually you come to realize that “reasonable” is determined by past history. You think it’s reasonable that a cup of good coffee is $3.95 because you grew up in a Starbucks culture… but talk to a guy who grew up in the 1950s, when coffee was an inflation-adjusted dollar at best. You think it’s reasonable that drivers will give you the finger and honk at you in traffic, because you grew up in Manhattan. You think it’s reasonable that people smoke in restaurants, because you live in Europe.
The important point: that “reasonable” creeps up, depending on what people do.
As humans, we’re bounded by other people’s reactions. And if everyone acts like you’re completely normal and wonderful, you internalize that.. even if you’re completely awful. On some level, we all think, “Well, if we get out of hand, someone will tell me I’m too much trouble.”
Remove those blocks – and sure enough, you start becoming too much trouble.
Wanna know why celebrities implode? Because they’re swaddled in a culture that caters to their every whim because they’re a non-replaceable entity, and when normal people see them it’s usually in a gawking fawningness of “Oh my God, it’s you! I’m so pleased to meet you!” So their waiters go to extra miles that no normal person would get, and when they casually ask for a Diet Coke at precisely 45 degrees with a titanium straw in it, everyone just brings it to them. Nobody notes this is actually really a pain in the ass to do for them, or if they do, they agree that oh, you absolutely need a perfectly-chilled drink.
Eventually, you come to think that this is reality. That the 45-degree Diet Coke with the titanium straw is not just you, but universal and easy to do, it’s happened a thousand times before. And then a waiter forgets and you get the wrong drink – and for the celebrity, it’s like they got brought a cup of transparent coffee with broken glass at the bottom. It’s such a stupidly-done thing that it feels like an insult. How could they not know?
So: embarrassing shitfit in a public place. And to some extent, it’s not the celebrity’s fault – it’s the fault of all these people around them, nodding and agreeing and convincing them that yes, this is the way the world is. Sure, the celebrity went off the fucking rails, but all of their PR agents and fans and entourage quietly removed the rails months ago. In some ways, it’s astounding that they kept on the right path for as long as they did.
And you see that in retail, where people think, “Oh, I’m always right! So I’ll sit in the coffee shop and slop coffee all over this magazine I have no intention of paying for, then leave it sprawled on the counter in a pile of sugar and drool.” They think, “I’m always right, so when I bring back a tattered book with no receipt and want cash for it, the clerk who’s refusing me needs a good, solid yelling.” They think, “I’m always right, so why aren’t these clerks catering to my every whim?”
And yes: you get more money from these nitwits. But you do so by catering to their dysfunction. Which means you get richer off of exploiting people’s psychological weak points. (A point I make, in a somewhat more hammer-handed way, in my story Dead Merchandise.) You actually make them a little insane – and some of them a lot insane – to harvest their cash.
So for me, having someone eager to cater to my every need makes them, in a low-grade way, the enemy of my sanity. I want people who question, who remind me of the work this took, who tell me when I’m inconveniencing them. A woman like Cammy (or at least how Cammy presents herself) would undermine the integrity of the person I’m trying to be, give me an inflated sense of self-esteem I might not deserve, slowly push me towards the land o’crazy expectations.
She’s not the perfect woman, Denis. She’s a perfect servant, perhaps. But perfect servants come with hidden costs, and I for one would be very reticent to pay them.
Cross-posted from Ferrett's Real Blog.This entry has also been posted at http://theferrett.dreamwidth.org/303879.h
Haven't read it yet (I saved it to Instapaper to read later), but Longreads pointed out this article: Anatomy of a Cosplayer.
Long-time readers will know: May is the time my Seasonal Affective Disorder usually creeps in. For a few weeks out of the year I’ll become a sniffling pile of self-hatred, sometimes skidding as far as self-harm, weeping and curling into a ball. This misery lasts for about three to six weeks, during which in lesser moments all of my suicide attempts have arrived, and when I emerge it’s a slow crawl.
This is where the sadness usually starts to tickle. And… it hasn’t yet. Which concerns me.
The thing is, if there’s any year when I might not have my usual SAD, this would be it. I’ve had major surgery in January, which my body is still recuperating from in some minor ways. I’ve changed my diet and exercise habits. And I’m on new medications, specifically a heavy dosage of Vitamin D in order to get my cholesterol and body chemistry back to proper levels.
So is it going to arrive? Maybe. I felt very sad on Saturday but then I ate a sandwich and realized my blood sugar was low, and everything went better. I’m feeling a little low now, but is that SAD or just a reluctance to charge ahead with a tedious work day?
No clue. Until then, I’m sort of waiting for the axe to fall – maybe it’ll show up late. (It used to arrive in June.) I’m on alert, trying to be careful about how I react, so I don’t take anything too much to heart.
But once a year, I usually have to endure a time of knives and anguish. That may or may not show up this year. In some ways, waiting for it to hit is nearly as bad as the depression itself, being tensed for a blow that may never arrive. On the other hand, I’m relatively content, and finishing up my novel.
A strange place to be.
Cross-posted from Ferrett's Real Blog.This entry has also been posted at http://theferrett.dreamwidth.org/303809.h
I blew into the early morning time slot a few minutes late. The two players were brand new to the game, though, so I didn’t feel too bad about grabbing a soda from the drink machines while they set up and went over the rules.
The guy that blogs at The Rhetorical Gamer was running the game. As much as possible I tried to bite my tongue and let him do all the teaching. But… it is a totally classic game. There are so many cool things about it, so many rules, tactics, things that have happened…. You can very easily overwhelm the new guys. I probably did. But hey, it was Trial By Fire, so we might as well have just jumped in.
The Panther is forced to come out from his cover….
We divided up the mechs for our side. I offered to take the wimpiest one and they went with that. I didn’t want to be too pushy and make them do everything I thought was best. But at the same time… I wanted them to have enough information that they could make informed decisions throughout the game. At the early stages of the game, they ended up holding their position in cover while I charged in. I was hoping to draw enemy fire and maybe even make an opening for them. (I remembered the Jenner to be a fairly serious threat back in the day….)
This turned out to be a major tactical error, though. We missed an awful lot. One guy never hit at all the entire game. When we did hit, the only place we landed a decent concentration of damage was in the center torso. As we started crunching through the internal structure, we never got any criticals, either. This ended up being the proverbial tough row to hoe.
Getting in our last licks before the opposing mech could leave the board…!
Meanwhile, the one of the first hits I’d taken had caused an engine hit. Did that ever make me wished I’d overheated my mech already! I just lurched along after that contributing only a shot or two each turn… until I got into a decent enough position that I could unload everything. This hit next to nothing and promptly shut my mech down.
Did I mention that we were playing novice mechwarriors? I tell you, that extra penalty on the to-hit rolls that we had made it really tough on us. To make matters worse, though, we lost initiative far more often than we expected to as well. That pretty well sums up our game, though: we did really good except when it came to making to-hit rolls, rolling criticals, and winning initiative. Doh!
But you should have seen that enemy mech when he finally made it back to base. His center torso was blown wide open with maybe one or two strands of myomer fibers still holding it together. (I’d really like to have a better strategy if I was going to try this again. Maybe if we had ignored taking cover altogether and got into short range a little quicker…. But then, maybe that mech would have just clobbered us! So who knows….)
At any rate, a couple of new players got walked through the basics of BattleTech. And they got to do it with a really nice set of models, too. It was a good game. It was just enough to whet my appetite, though. I don’t think I’ve seen the last of this game system…!
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Sometimes you just can't wait for all the information you need to carry out a plan successfully. If your GM is doing the job right, this might actually occur more often than not. But you have to go ahead and make the best of things anyway. Do things right even despite the lack of full information and the rewards should be all the greater.
Assuming you survive.
For rix_scaedu: “Home alone with a toddler”>
Check out how to make your very own lawn Ogre (Stormtrooper not included) at the Derivative Crafts blog.
– Daniel Jew
Warehouse 23 News: A Patriotic Cthulhu?
That seems to be the case with our Firecracker Chibithulhu.
This cute, cuddle, sanity-blasting plush comes with huge, adorable eyes; a red, white, and blue Uncle Sam hat; and a firecracker on his chest.
And this toy includes a special rule which will help you during Munchkin Cthulhu games. post a comment
Test pilot Benjamin J. Grimm, trying out a new flight simulator, is surprised to find the interior bathed with brilliant green light. When he opens the hatch, he realizes he's being carried across the desert toward a crashed spacecraft, whose dying pilot gives him a green ring, inducting him into an interstellar police force, as a totally fearless and honest bearer.
I had been dimly waiting for some sort of e-mail notification, but
apparently the Hugo Voter Packet is now up at the LoneStarCon 3 website...... post a comment
2176. Even if calling out characters for critical hits is encouraged, no talking the crit hit monster into naming his character Skjor.
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I went to New York City this weekend to attend a meeting of the Board of the Robert Schalkenbach Foundation. I was re-elected as a director, and other business was transacted and discussed. This why the last edition of the Red Queen's Race was Thursday rather than Friday.post a comment