I don't remember the last time I traded in a video game, and this is coming from someone who - at one point - had an EB Games "Edge" card with over five hundred dollars in credit on it. I used to have no more than three or four games per system because I routinely harvested my collection with no hint of remorse. A couple years ago I began to wonder if the practice was on solid footing - if it had, as its outcome, the nourishment of an industry that had so elevated my leisure hours. I had no good answer, and as such, could not act.

I'm going to preface this post by saying that my job is rad. I cannot thank you all enough for letting me do this shit.

So a while back I mentioned the Dwarven Forge. They make some really cool 3D terrain for table top games and I was curious about how it worked. Well the Dwarven Forge guys saw it and actually sent me a set to try out. It showed up yesterday which was perfect since Monday is our game night. I was able to use what they sent me to construct the first two encounters of the night and my players loved it.



The first thing I noticed when I cracked the box open was just how heavy the individual pieces are. I had imagined them sliding all around the table as people move their minis but they don't. not only do they have enough heft to stay where you put them, but they have really classy felt bottoms.

As you may recall, the PAX 10 is our annual independent games showcase - the entries are judged by a panel of gamers, journalists, and industry veterans, and the top ten entries set up shop in a booth we provide in the PAX Exhibition Room.  It was a huge draw last year for pretty much everyone, so it's an amazing opportunity to get your stuff in front of people.  We'll be accepting submissions through May 9th, which will probably come sooner than you think. 

The Kindle has begun to proliferate substantially here, so that almost half the people I work with either own one currently or stand on the threshold, hands clasped, awaiting its imminent arrival.

1up is running an anti-drug campaign based on the idea that getting high will affect your usefulness in raids.

You might have heard that we were recently honored by the state of Washington. We do not absorb accolades especially well, being surrounded by a nearly impermeable membrane of self-doubt and residual teen vengeance. Even so, the grandeur of the setting elevated things to almost New Hope, medal ceremony levels. The addition of the following line:

So i attempted to dedicate last night to Killzone's multiplayer. I'd jumped in a few times before and really enjoyed it. I had planned to spend last night trying to unlock some new equipment. The game had other plans though. Last night I experienced two hard crashes, each one eradicating all my work in that particular match. The first one I decided to just accept and roll with but the second one was too much. After nearly thirty minutes of play the game locked up and after restarting I saw that none of my points from that match had been calculated. That's a deal breaker for me. I'm a big fan of persistence. I like the idea that the time I invest in a game is earning me new skills and abilities. The problem is that if you're going to make my time with the game valuable, you can't ever fucking steal it from me. If WOW crashed and I lost a night's worth of XP I'd never play it again. Tycho told me that this happened to him in Asheron's Call and it was the reason he quit. So I'm done with Killzone until I hear about a patch of some kind. It's not like I'm hurting for other games to play.  

I don't play in Gabriel's campaign, and I don't run it, but still I am present. I am there in the eager, thirsting roots of the gravetree, in every primal ululation of some forgotten race. Whenever he runs something by me, I am quick to suggest that it could be substantially more brutal. His group can scarcely believe the stories I tell them about earlier versions of the game, of sundered stats and experience loss and THAC0, when players could win and still lose.

This has gotten out of hand.

We've got a couple conventions coming up here pretty soon. Tycho and I will be at Emerald city as well as Sakuracon, both of which are in April. I'm working on an exclusive poster that I'm hoping the Sakuracon crowd will appreciate.

Dollhouse is not an enjoyable television program.

Episode 2 of our D&D podcast is now live on iTunes and over on the official site. Since we recorded these podcasts I've had the opportunity to not only sit in on a few different games but actually run my own game. One thing I've noticed is just how different D&D is depending on the group and the DM. From hardcore min/maxing motherfuckers, to groups where it seems like the rules get in the way of their acting. What I enjoy about the game is really the table talk. That is to say I like having my friends around the table,cracking jokes and telling stories. My feeling is that the core D&D rules are there for you to use as much or as little as you like. In my game I try really hard to strike a balance between what the rules dictate and what's going to be the most fun. 

We exhibit a curious psychology in our writing: whenever we create a character for the sole purpose of reviling it, eventually we come to see things their way. We have a kind of sympathy for these shuffling creatures, even though their entire purpose is to act as pinatas in some aggressive adolescent fantasy. We want to make their imaginary lives better. The Chuck/Charles dichotomy is a good example, but even the villain Franzibald gets his due: his pathetic works take on a kind of inverse grandeur, and exploring their cursed plain produces a sensation which is not unlike pleasure.

I haven't seen it mentioned anywhere, but checking the game's update log purely for shits and giggles, I saw this:

With Gabriel home sick on Friday, we each purchased Noby Noby Boy independently with an eye toward creating a strip based on it. We agreed to play it for an hour apiece, and then convene our fraternal order to perform the Ritual of Writing.

Five years ago, it was our goal to create a convention that recognized gaming as a cultural event.  We hoped that people would respond to it, but we could never have anticipated the depth of that hunger.  There is a lot of hunger.