The Seventh Spring, Part One
It’s been quite awhile since we investigated the Cardboard Tube Samurai, an oversight we chose to rectify this week. With Gabriel down south this week, steeping his heir in The Cult of the Mouse, it seemed like a well-timed return to the old ways. “The Seventh Spring” runs until Friday. We had a lot of fun doing it.
Emerald City Comic Con was not altogether unpleasant!
We attend two conventions in the same building, one weekend after another, which grows increasingly surreal each year. This is compounded by the fact that PAX takes place in the same building, which (after several iterations of this process) gives one the impression that your life’s set budget has seen drastic cuts. Also, since the second of these shows is attended (at a rate nearing 100%) by Teen Witches of various kinds, the needle of one’s crazometer begins to shiver behind the glass.
Here though, at this con, before the progressive decomposition of my mind has begun in earnest, there is time to reflect. A host of luminaries too numerous to catalogue made Seattle their home this weekend: I was startled to see Merediph Gran out in our neck of the woods, where we use terms like “our neck of the woods” to describe nearby locales. I did my best to make her feel welcome. Kris Straub, by his lonesome, makes fully two of my favorite comics, and I tried to not to be intimidated by him.
Since the whole of Acquisitions Incorporated was here for the show, Gabriel and I put together an adventure for them - a kind of High-Fantasy Heist Movie - that everyone seemed to enjoy. Melding the remaining players with Gabe’s regular group, we created a scenario where one party did something devious while the other party ran a distraction, and he and I ran each group separately. It worked much better than expected, with a largely combat focused group in the basement countered by another group intent on using social engineering to “hack” into the upper crust. It was entirely fucking nuts and I’m shocked it worked at all, but it’s now established in the narrative that they meet for one job a year. We have already begun to plan.
I haven’t actually run a game in well over a decade, as sustaining an entire universe mentally is taxing, and full responsibility for another person’s enjoyment is never something I hoist willingly. I did my best to embroider the complexities of moving through public spheres, and the players didn’t appear to entirely disgusted, so apparently my failure was not absolute.