Chimera Creative

Here’s a quick update from my frantic life schedule this month:

First, my wife and I sold our house, so we’ll be moving very soon. This is beyond crazy right now.

UPDATE! The buyer backed out of the deal. This is the third time this has happened to us! Well, at least things will be slightly less crazy. Sigh.

Second, there is a new batch of Dust Devils print edition coming up, as the current run is nearly sold out via www.indiepressrevolution.com.

So, those things together mean that I have no idea where I’ll be — both literally and figuratively — in a month or so. It likely will delay the publication of 44: A Game of Automatic Fear. I’d love to still make GenCon for its release, but time will tell.

This discussion among Clyde Rhoer, Luke Crane, Clinton Nixon, and Jason Morningstar is very important to things I’m interested in. And, they do a good job explaining reasons that I approach this hobby the way I do, including my previous posts about the subculture and Gary Gygax’s death. To put it into a quick summation: I find the elevation of game designers above the social plane of the people who play games destructive. It harms the human interaction and collaborative creativity of the people who enjoy playing role-playing games, including the game designers! The hobby is so compelling precisely because the creative input of people playing the games is as exciting and interesting and surprising as the creative input that made the game in the first place.

Here’s the cool thing for me in the short term. In about four hours, I’m going to drive to Madison for Forge Midwest where I will hang out with friends, and probably meet some new people. We’re going to play games. And, we’re also going to be friends and talk. It’ll be fun. I’ve done this for the last two years. So far, we’ve managed to do exactly what I hoped — get together and play some games. That’s it. No awards. No special seminars. No “guest of honor” silliness. Just playing games with people who like to play them. Despite the lousy weather in store (snow!), I can’t wait.

This blog’s seen unusual activity and content in the last couple weeks. I think, amid the criticism from me and from others, it’s worth re-stating what it is I’m positive about, and what I do all this stuff for.

For me, participating in this thing called role-playing games is about one thing, and that one thing’s main consequence.

It’s all about actual play.  

If the actual play goes away, there is — for me — no hobby. It’s about an activity that’s really fun to do — play games.

I publish my own role-playing games. I do this for one reason. I want other people — friends and strangers — to actually play the games I create and enjoy doing it. That’s it; that’s the primary purpose here.

The main consequence of that is that people tend to enjoy each other more as human beings. In my case, it means the consequence is that I gain new friendships and colleagues. That’s the primary benefit.

Now, my games are profitable. They give me some extra spending cash. It’s not a lot — a couple thousand bucks. I couldn’t even consider making a living on it as this point. Not even a part time job, at least not at my current sales and profit levels.

The money is a funny thing. I’ve experienced directly, and observed indirectly, that the best, most reliable means to get a role-playing game you designed into the hands of people who actually play it is to have them buy it first. Free games are great! I like them. I can’t recall that I’ve ever played one, though. People do play them, certainly. But, mostly, people download them (assuming they’re free PDFs or similar format), maybe read them, and simply have them. Play them? Not really.

When a person buys my games, they’re invested. They’re interested! They’re saying they are so willing to check this thing out that they’ll put up cash for it. They demand them. Now, it’s clear that even then only a fraction of my customers become my fellow players. That’s inevitable. And, given my meager resources for support and marketing, that’s something I’m not able to improve as much as I’d like.

This philosophy, by the way, is the core behind the Ashcan Front, which I co-founded with Paul Czege. There’s been some criticism that with the Aschan Front we’re getting (that is, scamming) people to pay for playtesting. I don’t think that’s what’s happening. I think that what’s happening is that people are engaging in mutual support. A buyer of an ashcan is saying “I appreciate your work and see such promise in it, that I’m willing to support you financially and also do what I can to interact with you and make this game as amazing as possible.” Guess what the absolute best thing that buyer can do to interact and make the game better? Yep, you guessed it — actually play the game.

I digress. Indeed, I digress from the goal when I write blog posts here. Much of them are about all kinds of junk that aren’t directly about actual play. Things like my comments on the subculture, on publishing, when I dip my toe in theory (which, really, isn’t very often — I never have been much of a theory wonk) are not about actually playing games, and playing games I publish especially.

This is why I say changes are ahead for this web site. Instead of a blog about my thoughts, I really need to focus on the activity of role-playing. And, obviously, I’m very interested in people playing games I’ve published.

I’ve got a new one nearly completed and soon to publish. 44: A Game of Automatic Fear will debut this summer. As a game, it’s tested and complete. Now, I need to revise the text and publish the thing. I’m really excited about it.

I’ve also got a couple other games lined up after that. What designer doesn’t! One that I’m excited about I haven’t talked about before. But, I’ve never played it. No one has. No point talking about stuff when they’re stuff to do. Like play games.

This site is likely to see changes soon. In the mean time, moderating is frustrating. 

If you want to post on threads, post with your name. First name is fine. Full name is welcome.

Replies with pseudonyms, handles, nicknames and so on will be deleted from now on.

If this prevents you from posting positive comments or questions, so it goes.

UPDATE!

How fun! The so-called RPGPundit sees fit to post here in his typical bizarre and angry rants as “Harry.” (Hi, you predictable Canuck-y-Uruguayan clown. I hope you realize I take you about as seriously as Shemp from the Three Stooges. Yes, you are getting attention now. I can hear your tail wagging like a happy dog for it. Don’t shit on the carpet if you can help yourself, you freak.)  He no longer posts here. That is that.

So this is what the end game of 44 sounds like.

Here are some games I think are pretty good options for playing with people outside the subculture of gamers. They aren’t grand-slam-homeruns guaranteed to convert masses into seeing the light and brilliance of role-playing. They’re just pretty good.

• Prime Time Adventures
• Contenders
• Trollbabe
• My Life With Master
• It was a Mutual Decision

And, I offer up my own efforts:

• Dust Devils
• 44: A Game of Automatic Fear

Dust Devils is a good “straight” Western game. People “get” it. 44: A Game of Automatic Fear is a bit more complex, and that may pose an obstacle. However, it does have very little preparation required and is meant to play in one sitting. In that sense, it doesn’t require a hard-core, long-term investment to play.

I’m intrigued by a number of other games, though I know relatively little about them. For instance, Best Friends by Gregor Hutton among some others.

Here are some of my favorite, all-time role-playing games that are not very good for playing with people outside the subculture of self-identifying gamers. This doesn’t mean it can’t happen, ever. It means I think they have barriers to overcome the the games above don’t have. (And, some are “better” than others in this regard.)

• HeroQuest
• The Riddle of Steel
• Dungeon & Dragons
• The Shadow of Yesterday
• Savage Worlds
• Conspiracy of Shadows
• a|state

And, my own effort:

• Nine Worlds

Nine Worlds is a pretty complex game with a pretty unusual setting. My neighbor’s not bound to “get” it easily.

For a lot longer than my day-old post (previous post), I’ve been aware that I am known, particularly in online communities, as that guy who wants to “un-geek” role-playing games. This is true, but that’s not what those people mean.

What they mean is that I’m a quixotic jackass who’s filled with self-loathing and shame, who hates geeks and wants to get away from them and change them. And, how dare you, Matt?

They say I’m a quixotic jackass because I’m never going to accomplish this fool’s errand of bringing role-playing the activity outside of it’s recognizable circles of subcultures. It’ll never escape the bounds of gamers in their living rooms, and “regular” people won’t be playing Prime Time Adventures any time soon.

That’s probably correct! Not only is it unlikely I’ll ever accomplish anything in that regard, it’s very possible no one will. Oh, I’d still like it to happen and work toward it. But, it will take some incredible luck and probably resources that no one seems to have for that to happen.

They say I’m filled with self-loathing and shame because, clearly, anyone who wants to get away from this hobby and subculture must be afraid of it, or ashamed of it or whatever. Matt, goes the implication, you just think you’re better than us, and you’re not. Or, Matt, you just are mad because you don’t fit in. And so on.

This is absolutely not correct.

Here is what I mean by “un-geek,” and why those insulting reactions miss the mark.

What I mean is pretty simple. Right now, if I were to pursue a role-playing activity with people who are not gamers, I face considerable challenges. There’s stigma with the activity for some people, first of all. And, a learning curve for some people as well. Both are surmountable, but still are obstacles. Almost no one outside of the “gamer” subculture even knows what role-playing, the activity, is all about. There is no reconizable group of people to “go to” outside of the gamer subculture to do this activity.

Either you’re “in” and you play, or you’re “out” and you do not play.

This would be totally fine, if it were just about the “play” part. Broadly speaking, it’s not just about play. Being a “gamer” is also about making inside jokes, knowing a bunch of complicated and largely insignificant history, respecting certain people (and not others), being a fan about different media and games, and a whole bunch of other stuff that has nothing to do with actually playing the games themselves. It is, in my view, stuff that gets in the way of actually playing the games themselves. It is fun stuff for some people.

And, that people enjoy gamer-dom and being a gamer is fine with me. Read that again. It’s really fucking important.

I don’t begrudge anyone that. But, it’s not particularly fun to me. I want to do the activity — the actual playing of the games. I don’t want to participate in the other stuff. It doesn’t interest me much.

In short, I want my role-playing hobby to be more about playing the games for what they are, rather than about playing the games plus a lot of difficult-to-penetrate subcultural activity and behavior. See? Lifestyle versus activity.

I’m not ashamed of not wanting to be a gamer. I don’t loathe my perception out in the world as a gamer. That’s nonsense. I can’t explain why people insist on putting those intentions and values on me. It’s wrong.

Now, finally, why do I want this division between activity and lifestyle?

So I can choose to grab either my basketball or my dice and take it over to my neighbor’s house and have fun. I want to find more people who would enjoy role-playing games without the obstacles I talked about above. I don’t want to just presume that you have to be “in” to be able to play.

That’s why I want to “un-geek” gaming. It’s really simple. I just want more choice and more people. And, really, I don’t know of any self-described gamers who disagree with me on that.

This week has been strange. I’ve been working my ass off (put in about 14 hours yesterday), going to class, trying to buy a new car, trying to get my computer fixed, my daughter had the flu. The list goes on.

Meanwhile, Mr. Gary Gygax died. And, seriously, I don’t give a damn.

Let me attempt to explain.

I think it’s sad that this guy from Wisconsin died a tad bit earlier than most folks do these days, and sad that he had a wife and several kids. That’s death. I grew up around a funeral home. I’ve seen my fair share of sad people and said stories. It’s too bad Gary, the person from Wisconsin who was a dad and all that, died.

But, I’m so far disinterested in whether Mr. Gary Gygax the nerd celebrity is no longer here. He hasn’t been relevant to me since about 1989. Who cares? Not me. Obviously, lots of other people care. Good for them.

This existential grief notion that “OMIGOD, Where would I be without Gary?!?” is baffling to me. You’d be doing something else, I guess. But, who cares? You didn’t do something else. You aren’t doing something else. You’re playing role-playing games. And that’s cool.

More importantly, you’re still be responsible for youself, just like you would be without Gary. You’d either be a social fuck-up or you wouldn’t. You’d have friends because of stuff you did with them for fun, or you wouldn’t. Gary’s not responsible for your life! He’s just a guy. He made a game. You liked it and played it. It was an activity. You turned it into a lifestyle. You decided to form your identity around it. Gary’s no more responsible for you doing that than Dr. Naismith is responsible for kids shooting each other for basketball shoes. I mean, consider, would anyone take you seriously if you said “Thank god for Milton Bradley games! If I hadn’t played Monopoly, I wouldn’t have been interested in business. And, if I hadn’t done that, blah blah blah, now I have a house and I’m a lawyer.” What? No. It just doesn’t make any sense to me.

Remember all those supposed millions of people who played D&D in the late 70s / early 80s, but dont’ anymore? Guess what? They played the game. They had fun. They left it at that. They didn’t choose to make that activity who they were. And, you know, most of them left it behind because they had other stuff to do. But some of them left it behind because they didn’t like being around the people who made it a lifestyle. 

My older brother, who jokes about his awkward days playing D&D in the early 80s (and no longer does) got to laughing about the odd news about Gary Gygax this week. He thinks it’s hilarious that I’ve seen the man at GenCon. It’s kind of a joke we share. Whatever. But, you know, his joke this week was pretty troubling.

“I read his obit you sent me. Gary said he enjoyed the social nature of the hobby. Oh yes! You mean the social nature of … playing in Mom & Dad’s basement?!”

We laughed. But, you know? He’s right. Clinging to Gary so you, the self-conscious gamer, can avoid feeling alone and awkward in your nerd shame is giving Gary a lot more credit than he deserves. You and your friends earned that by what you did. Gary didn’t even order the pizza for Christ’s sake.

He made a fun game. He had a life and a family and did lots of stuff. He died. He was just a guy from Wisconsin. Ok? Ok.

I’m not half as sad that Gary died as I am sad that the hobby still defines itself as a lifestyle rather than as an activity.

Here’s a quick update from Chimera Creative headquarters!

I’ve got an interview with Clinton Nixon recorded. It needs editing, but my computer’s shot. Once again, the sound quality isn’t ideal, but that’s definitely my fault — it’s mostly my house’s roaring heater. Hey! It’s friggin’ COLD this winter. It hovered just over 0-degrees Farenheit for much of January and February.

 Second, I recently visited Go Play Peoria. The highlight for me was a playtest of 44: A Game of Automatic Fear. I think this playtest identified the remaining issues with the game! More playtests to confirm this will follow. If the rules changes are indeed confirmed, look for the game to see publication later this year, possibly in time for summer convention season.

A play, to explain why I’m really fucking tired about arguing about people claiming indie RPG publishers don’t make a profit.

Some people: Well, you indie publishers are cute and all, but you’re not really making a “profit,” you amateurs you. Here’s why. See, profit is revenues minus expenses. And, you make nice revenues, I guess, but you don’t count your expenses.

Indie Publishers: Um, yeah, we do count expenses. See? here’s my revenue, and here’s my cost of goods sold, and here’s some art I bought.

Some people: Ah ah ah! You don’t count your time! You cheated. You didn’t count the time you spent writing as an expense! Gotcha!

Indie publishers: WTF?

Some people: See? You really don’t even understand business. Now, stop chewing up my living, ya’ punks.

Indie publishers: Are you drunk?

Some people: No! Unlike some folks, I value my time, and here’s what I should make as a living wage. If you can’t compare to that, your “profit” is a fairy tale. You’re just amateurs.

Indie people: You’re weird. First, no one “deserves” a living wage. But, nevermind that. More importantly, your revenues minus expenses is EXACTLY RIGHT. The problem is that my “time” is not an expense! It’s equity! It’s a valued asset, and it represents the stuff I own. All that “time spent” stuff is an expense to a company who pays freelancers or employees! I don’t have any employees, you nut. I employ artists and layout people, but I count their pay as an expense.

Some people: Well, you are an employee.

Indie people: Um, no. I’m not. Nothing, anywhere, ever says I have to pay myself a living wage in order to be a “real” business. That’s a silly assumption. I’m the owner. That’s like saying a corporation pays its shareholders “wages” when it gives out dividends. I’m not required to “pay myself” a dime.

Some people: Are too!

Indie publishers: Nuh uh!

Some people: See! Amateurs. You aren’t worth my time.

-THE END-