Every PAX we do I try to update the number of shows I've done in my head. Usually, anyway. At a certain point it's just kind of an N+1 thing. I think it might be more helpful to be granular about it: this is the tenth East, a show that rose from the haunted warren of the Heinz center which could barely contain it even in its first year, to the BCEC, a building so large that I felt touring it was a waste of time because we could never possibly need it.

Man, this Thursday start for hashtag PAX East is something I still have to get my head around. Doing the first day of the show and then rebuilding my mind - from something designed for instant output to something more measured - is wild as hell mid-show. For West, it's after the third day, so I'm so tired that the words just fall out. Today's comic follows Wednesday's, in the terrifying nineties, and concerns a kind of dark equine prophecy.

I don't talk about it as much as it deserves, nowhere near, but I don't want to annoy people with it; this makes me uniquely ill-suited for the social media era. It's quite true, though: there's an Acquisitions Incorporated supplement for D&D coming, and what's more, it's an official book made in concert with Wizards of the Coast. This means, among other things, that when you put it next to your other D&D books it will look like it's part of that august tradition. Because it is!

Sekiro is pretty special, I think; of course, I'm invested in From's success because I like the weird stories they make, but I also need them to make a lot of money so they can make the Armored Core and Chromehounds games I need. I need them to make so much money that that can make a game that only I purchase and Q1 still looks okay.

I'm not sure I want a new gaming platform right now, one that isn't connected to anything I already own or any of the people that I know. At this point in the perpetual ebb and flow of centralization and decentralization, this is just what's happening: the real vigor is supposed to be elsewhere, and you're supposed to borrow it forever. I understand why it's a good business model, but it's so clearly a model in search of an audience that I'm content to just let their wet tentacle slap against the windowpane for a while.

This, or something very close to it, really did happen. It's a brand that brings people together, forging a connection between them, even if they should be discussing the infection that is - even now - gnawing at the root of his lifespan.

Kirby's Epic Yarn was cute and fun back in the day, that's a game I played with a younger iteration of my daughter Ronia, and the Extra version is similar except that it also allows you to play the game while driven by the very whips of hell.

One of the the things I like about Games Workshop's 40k shit is that one of the fundamental tenets of the grim darkness of the far future is that nobody understands how anything works. Not really. This doesn't mean that they are ineffective, or that they constitute non-factors in the events that surround them. Quite the contrary; it's just that the range of expression available to human beings is very narrow. Society has essentially been distilled into a weapon. It describes a culture where all of its points are in one thing.

Wow! Huge refresh on the AI shirts, with custom character art by Gabe, plus some real inside baseball at the end for the true connoisseur. I'll have you know I spelled that correctly the first time.

Gabe's "Brightgrave" campaign continues apace, revelations have been… revealed, and he literally had a point where something big happened and the Title came up. This is some pretty meta shit: it required describing, as an object inside the shared hallucination of the game world, a word materializing and then hanging in the air.

Gabe is literally playing Gambit Prime as I type this, and despite what we might say in the strip he's over there tooling team after team. It can't help but activate an ill-timed sympathy response: he's like a wicked ghost, iterating a malevolent grudge throughout eternity.

Gabriel went into incredible detail about today's strip already, so I don't think I'm one hundred percent required to. A smarter person would look at the double threat nature of a MIke Krahulik and say, "Huh. Maybe my utility here is precarious," but not me. Not me! Not having to do a post for a comic I didn't have to draw is the optimal scenair - "scenair" being the new truncation I've come up with for scenario. I wouldn't have had the time to make that great word if I'd been doing worky type horseshit.

I was invited to participate in the career day at my son’s middle school last Wednesday. However when I arrived I quickly discovered that they had forgotten to put me on the list of presenters. Each of the adults who came had been given a room, and all the kids had a guide book that told them who was in each room and what their job was. I am never one to make a fuss and so when they told me they would find a room for me I just smiled and waited patiently. As it turns out they had a veterinarian not show up and her room was free. As a teacher was guiding me to the room it dawned on me that all the kids I was about to talk to were waiting to hear from a vet. I was assured that this would not matter very much but I did not find that to be the case.

I'm not going with him to this one, but I certainly have in the past, and it's always a little weird to figure out how to tell students what they need to know in a way that a) they can understand and b) won't make their parents really, really mad about the weirdos their school inexplicably brought in.

Anthem continues to unfurl its dark fronds, casting doubt on the fortunes of a once legendary house. Such houses generally fall either to dissipation or treachery. I don't know what it would be like to toil on something with the understanding that absolutely everything relied upon it. I can scarcely imagine what it must be like to spend years in the manufacture of my own mausoleum. Who could withstand it? What happens now?