Showing posts with label connections. Show all posts
Showing posts with label connections. Show all posts

Monday, February 2

books books and more books

at the end of last summer, the family gathered on the edge of Idaho and Utah to see my paternal grandmother off on her journey from this world into wherever we find ourselves after. 

from among grandma's things, I was bequeathed an old 70s-style woven and leather bag (I have vague memories of grandma toting her students' papers and homework sheets and such around in it, once). most weeks now, at my house, it is a perfect home to my choir music and a bit of spare lip balm. 

but before I brought it home, more or less just as my dad handed it to me, I found a highlighter pen and a few scraps of notepaper in the bag's many pockets. one little note was a list of medications. the other was a list, in soft, properly-formed cursive pencil, of authors and a few titles:  

G.G Vandagriff
Lynn Austin
Thomas Perry
Linda Nichols - Not a Sparrow Falls 
Chris Stewart - The God of War 
Ted Bell - Nick of Time 
James Kunstler - World Made By Hand, The Long Emergency
Angie Sage
Jessica Richard Draper
Beverly Lewis

and then, in pen at the end, written slightly larger, 

Diana Crawford

when I got home and had a minute, I looked them all up in my local library catalog. of the available options they had for me to put on hold, only one author seemed interesting enough-- James Howard Kunstler. I've read three of his books from the World Made By Hand series now.

they're pretty neat. not all that earth-shattering, as far as post-apocalypses go, but well enough written and engaging. against the premise of oil-shortages and societal collapse, we have a tapestry of colorful characters surviving together. every horse that is mentioned gets described specifically by breed. every antique piece of furniture is given all the fancy labels an auction catalog could ever ask for.  

did grandma ever read these too? I'm not sure.  

I do know we both liked making things by hand from time to time. 

maybe I'll get my hands on some others from her list, eventually.  

more recently, I've been poking around at the short list for this year's Tournament of Books. I got my hands on Bunny so that We Love You, Bunny would have more context. not sure I liked the first-- its ending was pretty interesting though-- and we'll see how much patience I can muster up for the self-absorbed and anxiety-ridden MFA student collective that seems to be narrating the next one. at this rate I won't have time to read anything else at all in advance of the tournament, but so it goes. 

at dear friend Angela's house last month I perused her library for just a few moments and was tempted by a pair of slightly chubby fantasy novels by Naomi Novik: Uprooted and Spinning Silver. they were just the thing to offset the stress and chaos of a new spring semester. good, deep historical fantasy with rich cultural flavor and complexity of character-- I loved them both so much. the second especially so. it would look gorgeous in a video adaptation, I bet.

so of course now I am in a serious obsession with Naomi Novik novels. the other day I finished, too soon, the audiobook of A Deadly Education-- the first in the author's Scholomance trilogy. I loved it so much I think I'm having withdrawals from the world and the voices and the magic of it. it was all so vivid and gritty and perfect. please let the second and third audiobook copies arrive quickly via Libby, please. 

on paper, the series didn't sound that interesting. it is more than easy enough to think we've had enough wizard highschool stories, yeah? 

I'm glad I borrowed it anyway. it is a darker take on the international wizard school trope, but not at all trite or twee or annoying. I found it thoroughly enchanting, with superb world building and expertly balanced first-person narration. we inhabit for 13 well-paced chapters a snippy, mixed-race protagonist named Galadriel (El for short) who somehow, despite being perfectly stubborn and rude to all her classmates, is eloquently self-aware enough with her narrational monologues to come across as relatable and even likeable. I kept thinking of this as Kuang's Babel meets Harry Potter meets Wheel of Time. maybe. not the most apt comparison, I'm sure. ah well. 

books are awesome.

what have you been reading lately? 

Tuesday, September 30

the good fight

what does an average middleclass person in the developed world have to really fight for? stand up for? do capital-S Something about?

plenty of stuff, surely. but then again... fighting seems dangerous. difficult. as long as we have access to some safe-enough shelter, plentiful-enough groceries, functional-enough plumbing, a little companionship, what else could we need to really worry about? with those basic necessities secured, most of us will be content with the state of things, whatever mild to moderate chaos or metaphorical storm clouds may swirl around on the outskirts of our little routines. 

do I mean "be content with," or "get complacent about"?

photo of an art piece in downtown Indianapolis, with a neon crosswalk sign flashing "DON'T CARE" in blue all caps

both, I guess. the main difference between the terms is in the level of awareness each implies. complacency means ignorance. we can frame our implacable cockroach-like ignorance as blissful and cozy, or as a challenging opportunity to learn more stuff. or maybe as protective wall, willful and resolute. which way we see it (or if we see it at all, I suppose) is a decision to make. a mindset we get to set. more likely, multiple shifting mindsets that we trade in and out as days come and go. 

my list above of all the basics that would be worth fighting for if we had to didn't include any education, but really it should. what kind of teacher would I be if I couldn't say learning and knowledge are worth fighting for, standing up to demand, or working as hard as possible for, after all? we need good food and good information to really survive on this planet. we can't leave our brains out of the game. useful stories are what civilization is made of.

we've watched the newest Superman movie more than a few times this summer. is it a useful story? (perhaps I should ask "useful for what?" or "useful to whom?" here. stories can be made to do many kinds of work in the world. not every storyteller has the same kind of use in mind. not everyone understands their needs for safety, shelter, food, and information in the same terms as other people's.)

despite the comicbook/superhero genre not being my usual cup of tea, I did like the messages this one braided together for us. 

  • your biological family and their cultural values aren't the be-all-end-all of who you are or can be. 
  • seeking peace and justice is not easy; people will probably complain no matter what you try. 
  • success of any kind at almost any level takes a ton of collaboration: there's work for the superheros, for journalists, and maybe for the unruly canines too. 

not all fighting is physical or violent (thank goodness). inasmuch as my daily work might be considered a figurative battle-- to wrangle my modest expertise in technical writing into a series of effective lessons for a bunch of college students every semester-- to apply decently rigorous empirical methods to relevantly articulated research questions in the field of media studies-- and all the other paperwork and collaboration and sitting through meetings that attend my little academic career-- then we can say I've fought to defend my few square feet of shelter and my $600/month grocery budget. perhaps I also fight here and there for recognition, for friendships, for leisure time, for a little peace and quiet. what advocacy my life entails beyond these selfish pursuits is very small. smaller than a pebble thrown into a puddle, it seems.

professionally, I advocate for all the podcasts to have transcripts. for inclusive and non-punitive learning-centered pedagogy where students get to make a lot of decisions for themselves instead of merely following arbitrary instructions. for a rejection of the workaholic mindset that still pervades academic culture. for everyone to do their best to read more and communicate clearly and vote in all the elections.

does all of that make a difference? I'll at least say that it doesn't not make a difference, so that's something. I won't always be able to measure the difference it might be making. there is plenty of hope involved.

could I make more of a difference if I were a scrappy investigative journalist? 

more or less is not the right question here though. it'd be a different kind of difference, on a different stage, but another form of education in any case. keeping people empowered with accurate and relevant information about the present universe. meaningful work, indeed. 

but also... maybe scathing exposés about the far-reaching misdeeds of tech billionaires only bring about lasting consequences in comicbook movies with happy endings. 

what does an average middleclass person in the developed world know, really, about all the bigger things out there to fight for? all the things we could/should/might/ought to/would do capital-S Something about before it's too late? nobody can be rationally informed about everything everywhere all at once. it's too much. even if we are informed enough about reality, learning/knowing/deciding what to do about it is another set of mental battles in itself.

my currently second-most-favorite podcast Never Post published a roundtable episode on this idea, back in May. the host (Mike Rugnetta--the one and only. I know, I know, will I ever shut up about Mike Rugnetta?) notes the tension between how we use the internet and how we might wish we could use the internet. it is a global medium--that's why it was made. one of the coolest things we do with the internet is "to socialize and connect globally, which, you know, that's powerful and that's important," Rugnetta says, "but we can't act globally. [...] it's even hard to act locally given the state of especially American politics.
"And, you know, I feel like even my ability to even know how to act locally has perhaps atrophied a bit because of my focus on the importance of familiarizing myself with national and global events."

are there information diet plans out there, something akin to the handy food pyramid, but for sources of news instead of calories? probably. 

do they teach such things in grade school so everyone grows up knowing that your brain will not thrive on a diet of nonsense and trash? maybe somewhere somehow. bless everyone who dares teach grade school.

there is so much information in the world to be had. maybe I shouldn't say "too much," because that depends. too much for what? for whom? 

sometimes it does seem necessary to just stop for a little while though. to push back on all the information (the firehose, the overload, the deluge, the six-lane highway traffic jam) with a little carefully cultivated ignorance: "I haven't looked into that myself," "that's not my lane," "I trust someone else to be smart about and work on that particular problem" and so on. (this brings to mind some of Hank Green's recent vlogbrothers video in which he touches on the difficult value of trusting our fellow humans.) we can all find our own good fight to fight-- there isn't just one. 

hopefully we aren't all fighting alone and/or at cross purposes though. hopefully we have some kind of justice gang/league/squad to back us up at least some of the time. smart and good people don't only exist in the comicbooks and movies. the Green brothers are on my list of people I admire for trying to make the world better. academic acquaintances are on the list. non-profit organizations managed by people whose names I may never know are on the list. 

its been a week or so since I read this detailed breakdown of "The Dark Internet Forest" as a concept for understanding the possibilities and risks of all our globally mediated connectedness and was thus suddenly enchanted with its author, Erin Kissane. she comes back to the centrality of place-- real or physical or digital or conceptual, place is important to remember. positionality. relationality. places matter. where are you? what other places are within reach right now? who else is there? how can you join forces and do Something?

I especially loved that Kissane cites this beautiful pushback against the classic "tragedy of the commons" idea. Elinor Ostrom's book helped me write my dissertation. I should read it again sometime. 

doing capital-S something is not always (probably not often) gonna be easy even when you have a team of active, collaborative superheros to work with. it's still messy. pebbles in ponds sometimes and big splashing ordeals other times. 

flip a switch somewhere and set your mind to care at least a little. doesn't have to be about everything. just don't get totally complacent.

photo of an art piece in downtown Indianapolis, with a neon crosswalk sign flashing "DON'T CARE" in blue all caps and "CARE" beneath it in white

Thursday, September 12

fall semester, 2024

the word semester shows up in at least 130 of my past blogposts, which is a little more than 10% of all the posts I've thus far posted. considering that this little blog has always been roughly half focused on various academic and intellectual pursuits, this makes plenty of sense. semesters are like seasons.

the word itself is not even 200 years old, the etymology dictionary tells me: "...semenstris 'of six months, lasting six months, half-yearly, semi-annual,' from assimilated form of sex 'six' (see six) + mensis "month" (see moon (n.)). The word, and the idea, were picked up in the U.S., where the German higher education system served as a model."

apparently the Latin-y adjective forms semestral and semestrial are a few centuries older. interesting. 

anyway, I'm glad our semesters are not a full six months long these days. four months is plenty. 

and for these upcoming four months, I'm teaching three batches of students, including a few repeats from past semesters. the longer I hang out at this institution, the more that will keep happening I suppose.

COM 221: Technical Report Writing
counting the two sections I have this semester, I've taught practically a million versions of this course (okay, 15 total sections. that is still a lot). it's becoming a bit of a struggle to not get completely burnt out and bored of it, but I'm doing my best to keep it interesting for me. we're only in week 3, so I'm still getting to know the vibe of the students. we'll have some fun together I hope though.

HU 356: Audio Production & Podcasting
this one is going to be interesting no matter what-- it's a brand new class, only recently outlined and designed and proposed by me for our catch-all Humanities & Communication department. I am pretty excited to see how this goes. so far I'm having students practice various little audio recording tasks, then we'll level up to remixing all those clips into some fun story-arc, before finally moving on to pitching and workshoping individual podcast projects. the students all have great ideas so far. (wish me luck persuading the one who simply wants to copy Mr. Rogan's insufferably long-winded (at least it is to me) format into doing something at least slightly more inventive.)


what else? I signed up for a weaving class next month. some family is visiting next week. we have some more camping planned for during fall break. we're having a brand new screen door installed sometime soon. and our Monday evening D&D group is on the brink of moving up to level 8. in November, our crazy puppy will turn 1 year old.

at some point we should work on the mish-mash garden projects and other household tasks that need doing. and eventually figure out our holiday plans. 

or maybe we let go of shoulds for a while and enjoy the almost-autum while it's here.

Saturday, June 29

favorite conference

last week, my time was taken up by another academic conference.

I presented on semi-academic podcasts and how awesomely they seem to cultivate discussions about scholarly things for the consumption (and perhaps participation) of non-scholarly audiences. such a thing seems pretty rare, but maybe it's less rare than I'm making it out to be. after all, 

“Podcasting’s bridging of knowledge barriers in an intimate manner is one of its key, and most readily apparent, properties. Thanks to the medium’s wide accessibility— given its general affordability and portability— knowledge in diverse domains can be shared by individuals and groups around the world. Thanks, as well, to their intimate, personal and often-conversational natures, podcast episodes can help individuals of different educational levels cross disciplinary boundaries easily. Audience members need not be enrolled in an educational system in order reap their benefits” (Swiatek, 2018, p. 177-178).​

how's that for a minimalist literature review, eh? Swiatek's chapter is in the collection I used as a textbook for my introductory podcast course last year. good stuff.

bridging knowledge barriers can happen across all kinds of lines, not just those of formal higher education, of course. academia is only one of many domains of learning. 

but for my presentation, I concocted a fairly narrow set of criteria for the four examples I showcased. to fit in properly with what I wanted to talk about, the podcast needed to be...

- officially made by/with credentialed, institutionally-affiliated academics ​
- making use of the ethos and/or expertise of their degrees at least a little
- purposefully talking to and/or translating for non-academic audiences ​to some extent

I also limited my examples to humanities/communication-y topics, because that's my discipline, and a 15-minute conference talk cannot be much more comprehensive than that anyway. I am curious to look at other podcasts in this vein though. eventually. Huberman Labs would count. and probably plenty of others I haven't heard of yet.

my observation, as a fairly high level podcast fangirl, has been that most scholarly podcasts don't bother talking beyond their own discipline, much less beyond the academy in general. in a sense, that might be what "scholarly" means-- by, for, and of scholars. but I also knew of a few counter-examples. a few podcasts that managed to feel more openly, accessibly, publicly academic.

for this little starting-place of a conference talk, I looked at these four: Material Girls; Lingthusiasm; Think Fast, Talk Smart; and Professors Play

according to my proposal for the event, I wanted "to highlight these as particularly valuable examples of public scholars demonstrating from the ivory tower how playfulness, connection, and personality are key ingredients for learning, teaching, and thriving as 21st-century humans."

want to see my little digital handout with transcribed bits from each show? there's a link to my slides from there too, which in turn have a few painstakingly chosen, hopefully entertaining-ish, audio clips. 

it is perhaps silly to turn my little presentation from last week into a blog post here, but (now that I'm halfway through doing it anyway) it does seem to match the spirit of my whole point— academia doesn't need to keep all of its cool conversations to itself.

on top of making that point, my other goal with the talk was to have fun introducing whoever showed up at my 11:00am panel to a few very engaging podcasts. I called it "Public Scholarship as Playful Pedagogy," but the title easily could've been shuffled into “Playful Scholarship as Public Pedagogy”— I'm still not sure which sounds better. the lines between all these things are fairly slippery at the best of times.

the lofty version of my whole argument is something like this: podcasts are conversations, usually quite public ones that can shape the cultures and communities of the world we live in. sometimes they even create new communities, which in turn have their own world-shaping power. so it matters who gets to be part of the conversation. it matters how the conversations are designed. 


Computers & Writing is one of the best conferences. next year it'll be in Athens, Georgia. will I get to be there and keep talking about podcasts as scholarship or pedagogy or public pedagogical artifacts or anything like that? we shall see.

Tuesday, March 26

Kingsolver and current events

almost six months ago, my attention was drawn to all the conflict in Palestine more than it ever had been before. a house down the road from us began flying an Israeli flag all of a sudden. half of all the social media posts are still imploring everyone to speak up, to choose a side or else by default choose complicit cowardice. the news of October 7 and all the terrible news since has been rightly hard to ignore.

since December, my old land acknowledgements post from the summer of 2020 has been oddly popular. the basic stats in blogger tell me it's gotten more than 100 views within the last 30 days. by comparison, a typical post here in this random collection of internet musings gets fewer than 20 views and that's it. but this old post has consistently seen around 30 hits per week for several weeks now-- I'm still not sure why. is it because phrases like "colonial ruin" "violent displacement" and "racist horribleness" are highly topical these past months? I've let my proper Google analytics account languish without updates for too long, so I don't really have a way to find out.

also about six months ago, I was reading Barbara Kingsolver's Prodigal Summer. a lush and lovely novel--a braid of stories all about our relationships with land, trees, animals, nature, and each other. biology. ecosystems. extinction or conservation, and all our efforts inbetween.

there is plenty I've so far remembered about this novel, but the thing I've most wanted to blog about here is a pair of sentences in the middle of it. they are sentences about Jewishness and prejudice and history.

Lusa, one of the three point-of-view protagonist characters in this story, is half Polish, half Arab. she marries blissfully into a struggling-but-resourceful family of appalachian tabacco farmers, too soon loses her husband, inherits his parents' old farm house, and faces various tensions and pressures from her local, white, rural in-laws as a result. 

I keep thinking about this line of dialogue from one of Lusa's chapters. she's talking earnestly with the one in-law, a nephew, she feels closest to. 

"That's what I was thinking, too. Families lose their land for a million reasons. My dad's parents had this wonderful farm in Poland, which they lost for being Jewish. And my mother's people got run off their land for not being Jewish. Go figure."

this pair of contradictions struck me, as I read it for the first time in fall of 2023, so much more definitively and potently than it might have at any other time.

and when did Kingsolver write this? my idle curiosity is easily answered: Prodigal Summer was published almost a quarter-century ago. in October, 2000. 

from devouring her other early novels (Pigs in Heaven, Flight Behavior, Unsheltered), I know Kingsolver has a deft way (sometimes subtle, sometimes less so) of commenting on potentially controversial political realities-- like this seemingly endless conflict in the middle east, or like the relative failings of public education, or like the impact of settler colonialism on indigeneous families, or like the nonsensical state of US healthcare systems. 

in October of 2000, I was an almost-17-year-old. what on earth did the words "Israel" or "Palestine" mean to me then? the first I only knew from a bunch of biblical prophecies and hymns, the second from Laurie R. King's A Letter of Mary (1997) and O, Jerusalem (1999), if indeed I'd really heard of Palestine at all. in neither context did I think very critically about what these stories meant. honestly, I was probably quite detached from both versions of the place. their respective peoples. they all may as well have been equally, ineffably, untouchably fictional.

halfway between then and now, I must have seen this rather haunting animation make the rounds on the internet. you've probably seen it, too.

unsurprisingly, there are dozens of new comments on that page since the events of last October.

looking into the piece again this past week, I realized that a full-length film version was produced and likewise donated to the public domain in 2018. do I have the time and spiritual energy to watch it? hopefully someday. (I've also now realized that the artist, as generous as she has been with her artwork, seems to have some not so cool opinions about the social construct of gender, so there is that to grapple with too.) 

{ the Palestinian flag, as if made of butterflies, borrowed from this kind soul on deviantart }
 

being Jewish. 

not being Jewish. 

we might say Lusa's ficitonal comments here are oversimplifying things.

and yes, I'm usually the first to say (to myself if nowhere else) there must be more to it there's so much we don't know how can anyone have a truly worthwhile opinion what's the use in trying to fully understand it anyway it's so complicated and what can I do about it or about anything, little me with my little blog and my little comfortable life?

what's truly oversimplified is any inkling of a thought that this single roundabout post regarding my country's rather terrible, rather unconscionable involvement in the horrors of this geopolitical situation is anything like enough to counter my general day-to-day silence on the topic. 

no matter how many times I might ponder bringing it up to my students or asking all the ROTC cadets how they feel about Aaron Bushnell or posting something to instagram with a hashtag like #CeasefireNow or #GazaWillBeFree... thinking about a few lines from an old Barbara Kingsolver novel and mentally wringing my hands about all the knotted historical roots of this conflict aren't enough at all. 

I don't know what could be enough. write to congress? to the president? just once? or every month? every weekend? with a few pleading letters or phone calls to these more-powerful-than-me people, can I then say I've done my part? 

I don't know. it doesn't seem like it. no number of letters or public protests, and certainly no ocean of hashtags, no matter how many, seems like enough.

so for now, current events continue to sweep across the world, sort of but not really dragging me with them. even so, we are all connected. we are all somehow jointly creating this world. the fact that I'll never be able to single-handedly fix anything on the other side of the planet doesn't mean I can safely give up, right? even if I don't-- or can't-- truly know if my impact on the sprawling web of the universe is leading to more preservation and less extinction of light and goodness, I have to keep trying. 

is it up to me to decide which side of the scale my feet are on? to judge my own quotas of light vs. dark?

for now, it is. I'm the only one who can. am I doing my best?  

Wednesday, January 31

goodbye, January

since the eve of 2024 one month ago, it feels like so much has happened. some of it too fast, too soon, too painfully. 

the grief of losing the first little doggo that I ever really shared my longterm day-to-day life with... I cannot describe it. as much as I'd like to keep trying to, the feeling altogether and gargantuanly transcends words. the whole experience is impossible to talk about in any satisfying, accurate, indubitable way. "losing"? "letting go"? that we "had to" say goodbye? what kind of stupid, broken euphemism circus is this? everything about our language-cloaked expressions of such pain just feels utterly inadequate.

pine trees silhouetted against a morning sky: blue above white above orange glowing above the mountain horizon
{ I suppose we can't have sunrises without some sunsets. }

a happy pug, white fur with darker ears and nose, his mouth open as if smiling for the camera
{ and nothing lasts forever; dog-years are too extra short. }

it is probably irrational to think no one else could ever know what I mean, even if the words and metaphors feel so flimsy. it's not like I'm the only person to ever experience this sort of sadness. nor is this the first unexpected loss in my life. but it has been the closest and the sharpest. so far.

on new year's day I wrote something about how the world (a world so embroiled in hate and genocides and ugly senseless conflict!) is an absolutely crushingly horrific mess, how my heart hurts and hurts and hurts, and how this loss seems to prefigure and to threaten-- or, even more, to promise-- every other inevitable loss I will ever have to face for as long as I live.

it's one thing to philosophically observe, in general, that nothing can last forever. okay. of course. to confront and deeply feel it-- specifically-- as one solitary ending to the life of a inimitably cuddly goofy fuzzy little domesticated animal... that is different.

other aspects of this January were plenty normal, whatever that means. most of my activities seem to come with rather suitable words with which to sketch them into sharable imagery: going to bed early and sleeping in. checking out library books. reading and ignoring and sorting and replying to emails. seeing friends. enduring snow and rain and cold. demonstrating crafts at the museum. putting birdseed in the feeder in the backyard. talking with family on the phone. eating quiche. drinking tea. making soup. needing a haircut but not yet ever managing to go out and get my hair cut. sweeping the floor. running errands. craving hot chocolate. writing lists and syllabi and assignment sheets. spending money. making things. existing. 

{ eclipse shadows from October, 2023. Wesley's last weekend camping trip with us. }

sure, nothing lasts forever. change is nature. this too shall pass: all of these phrasings alternatingly as full of solace as they are of tragedy, representative of a fact more solid than perhaps any other so-called fact. death and endings are, from one point of view, more normal, more mundane, more irrefutable than any of the other relatively comfortable, unassuming, smoothly proceeding lifestuff I might casually document and remember about this particular month of the year. that's what feels so difficult and impossible about it.

the vortex of this heartache felt immeasurable, indescribably vast and infinite, from the inside. 

even so, from a day or two or ten beyond, it begins to shrink and fade. all future moments frame it into something more manageable.

but again the words seem to balk and fail me. "manage"? is that what we are meant to do with these feelings? this grief? is that actually possible? the stringy, endless paradoxes curl up inside of each other, confounding my basic little human brain with ineffability.

{ classic pug-under-the-table photo, new year's eve 2023 }

January, perhaps fittingly, seems so very long. all the transitions it spans-- all the shifting, deepening of the dark season, the post-holiday recoveries, the shiny new beginnings of a calendar year and of an academic semester-- all of that is a lot for 31 average winter days.

I don't know if it really did feel longer for me this year, or if I'm only saying that because it seems like an appropriate thing to sigh into this semi-bleak and impermanent world. 

one month ago, as the cold moon began to wane and the spinning earth began to tilt just barely back towards the sun, our little old dog ate his last breakfast and went on his last stumbling walk and took one final car ride, sitting on my lap. I only knew him for half his life. I wasn't sure if I'd get along with such a beast at first. but we did get along, so well. I loved that pug and I'm glad he was here to share so much of the too-short day-to-day of my life for a while.

Friday, December 15

two more very unfair comparisons: the semifinals

the semifinals
The One Ring vs Vampire: the Masquerade (5e)
and
Star Wars: Force and Destiny vs Dungeons & Dragons (5e)


initially, I imagined this could be a short post, even with the two matches put together. I'll do my best to be concise. it may not be easy.

for most of the prior match-ups, I had decently strong feelings about the winners. all that changes now. these are the four best RPGs I've ever played. to decide between them is going to be an arbitrary, subjective, and pointless endeavor. that is what it means to model a summer-autumn-almost-winter writing project on the Tournament of Books. (sidenote: the 20th annual ToB itself is very nearly underway! the shortlist of 16 was just recently posted.)

as I pondered this next step in the tournament (inbetween grading final projects and exams and such earlier this week), I thought back on my approach during the opening round, to my not-really-a-rubric, and I tied my brain into knots figuring how to quantify my sense of these games' mechanics, aesthetics, and user-friendliness. while I'd sketched out the rubric categories, I never gave them a metric. am I measuring out of 5 stars? percentage points? some other nice round number of cute somethings?

I re-read my past reviews, hoping to distill the elements I most value in an RPG and build some useful yardstick out of it. obviously, design is important to me, both aesthetically and in terms of user-friendliness. overall style and world-vibes are important, too-- I clearly go more for fantasy than for sci-fi, more for glowing heroism than for grim dystopias. (Vampire seems a glaring exception on this though. hmm...) 

additionally, I value vividness, simplicity, and consistency (not just in games but in most art, now that I think about it). I have the most fun in games that gives me nicely-defined frameworks, clear rules, and then practically infinite freedom to invent within that space. is there a more apt way to describe that? not just the logistics of it all, but the feeling? a feeling of sinking all your imagination into a marvelous, immersive vision but also having the power to make it new and yours? I hope that makes sense to at least somebody.

RPGs are especially tricky to judge because they are more than the sum of their published material. they are not static boxes; so much depends on the storyteller, the game master, not to mention the other players. if I were to judge these four in terms of how much I loved my past gameplay in each system, that might be somewhat easier. but that's not exactly what I'm trying to do here.

nor am I comparing them merely on which story or world I might like best. it is interesting that three of these four are games live solidly within circumscribed gameworlds based on pre-existing lore. D&D is the exception, and even it has more than half its roots in the fantasy of Tolkien, so. that these four have come so far mean that such specific worldbuilding feeds into the sense of vividness and definition I value so much.  

alright, alright-- I'll quit stalling. here we go.

 

The One Ring vs Vampire: the Masquerade 5e

for months I have worried that Vampire would end up against The One Ring in the final round; both were strong contenders all along, but now here they are, one fated to force the other out of the running.

atwo hardcover game rulebooks-- The One Ring and Vampire: the Masquerade

Vampire has years ago earned my steadfast affection, for whatever reasons (see its prior match-up reviews for more on that), and contrarily The One Ring is a newcomer in my life.

they are so different, aesthetically and mechanically. for approachability I'll rank them as equals. both have plenty of depth and complexity, all made passably navigable with lovely book design. isn't it interesting their covers match so well? black and white and red, with barely-there serifs on those elegantly bold all-caps titles. not many RPG books come with fancy bookmark ribbons, but these both do.

The One Ring sells itself as "rules-light," which is a point in its favor given my preference for simplicity. skimming the book the other day, I did question this label a bit though. there are plenty of rules and guidelines for an epic, detailed, highly-managed roleplaying campaign, even if those rules are designed to sit in the background and let narrative take the stage. 

the striking style of Vampire feels incomparable to me, which is a point or two in its favor. but you all heard me gush about The One Ring's design. that's what makes this so difficult a match. which artfully drawn style is the best one, for me, today? the glossy, bloody, immortal danger of the urban fantasy plot? or the warm, antiqued, semi-rustic valor of the high fantasy adventure?

I still can't decide.

-

now I've written the rest of this post and proofread it twice, still struggling to make up my mind. The One Ring is gorgeous, and simple, and it ticks so many boxes for the kinds of stories and worlds I love to consume. I really hope I get to play it again in the near future, to explore it more as a full game. 

and Vampire is so evocative and unique. as I've explained before, how often do we get a framework to fight against ourselves, to struggle for a lost humanity? it's so interesting and novel to me, despite (and because of?) the potential discomfort and challenge of its dark, gritty, violent settings.

in a truly infuriating Tournament-of-Books-esque manner, I think I'm going to give up on reaching a judgement via all these relevant, fundamental aspects of the two, and grasp desperately at something-- anything-- for which I can easily pinpoint an obvious preference. if I had to choose just based on the two books' covers, for example, Vampire would win. that faux marble look and the shiny embossed title-- it's perfect.

but doesn't that seem so cheap and superficial? I don't hate The One Ring's cover, even if its use of red strikes me as garish. almost to make up for that stark and somewhat depressing first impression, The One Ring has buckets of marvelously good art in the rest of its pages-- all those chapter spreads, the little ink-scraped edging around the call-out boxes, the sepia sketches here and there. it's so neat and fitting and cohesive.

so. 

I think that's it-- the deciding factor. after helplessly trying to compare blood-red apples to elf-grown oranges all day long, I'll choose The One Ring for its artistic and stylistic consistency. that, and the timeless allure of high fantasy.

 

Star Wars: Force and Destiny vs Dungeons & Dragons (5e) 

where to begin? I love both of these games. I've played the one more than the other in terms of hours at the table, but I'm tempted to say my Star Wars roleplaying took on a quality that could easily outpace the more casual kind I have often tended toward in my quantity of D&D gameplay.

how much does that matter? 

it matters as much as I decide that it does, I suppose.

top-down photo of two game books-- the Players Handbook for D&D and the Force and Destiny rulebook for Star Wars

in terms of aesthetics, neither of these games knocks my socks off entirely. the on-paper designs of each feel equally solid, good but nothing exquisite.

D&D has the simpler mechanics, I think: simpler character creation, fewer charts to reference, and more straightforward dice. altogether it's not more than a few fractions of a point simpler, but it's something.

on the other hand, Star Wars has the more defined world. playing as a Star Wars character has been some of the most vivid, immersive roleplaying I've ever done. perhaps the existence of all the films helps with that, providing my brain with so much visuality to remix. perhaps it's "limits are possibilities" at work once again. Star Wars is a certain kind of story with preset rules and rhymes. that framework and direction help my style of creativity a heck of a lot.

so how do we weigh the merits of a whole multiverse of magical realms and adventure against those of a vast galaxy full of pseudo-magical, destiny-rich alien interactions? which one, for me, today, should win?

relative simplicity and fantasy win again, it seems. if I must-- and in this case I must-- I pick dragons and treasure and potions and spells over any number of futuristic laser swords and spaceships. it isn't fair, but it is my verdict.


next up, the final finals:
The One Ring vs Dungeons & Dragons

Wednesday, November 29

certain shades of darkness

quarterfinals match 3:
World of Darkness vs Vampire: the Masquerade 5e

since opening match 1, our zombie-plagued World of Darkness chronicle has ended. my stubborn, workaholic Andi Garcia did survive, somehow. in the end, wrapped in a metaphorical shroud of mourning and dampened ambitions, she held on to just enough hope for teaching the younger survivors everything they could want to know about the technologies of the past. given the campaign's Lake Michican setting, Andi's epilogue has some real Station Eleven Museum of Civilization vibes-- in my imagination anyway. a little bit like that. but different.

sadly, I have not played any more Vampire this year. but I do think about the world and the system fairly often. driving past a self storage compound on the highway, I wonder how Anarch vampires could use such a space for hiding their renegade plans and secrets. hearing news snippets about a rapper on trial for drug trafficking, I wonder what kind of vampire story that might be, if the drug dealers were in thrall to vampires, or if the rapper himself were undead, using a late-night partying lifestyle to disguise his sun allergy. it would definitely be depressing to be a vampire in real life-- but isn't it interesting to ponder the logistics of living in darkness for decades on end? I can't be the only one who thinks so.

mechanically, these two games are almost identical. the one system encompasses the other entirely, pretty much, and the other is a sharply focused specialization of the first. on that point of my rubric, I cannot really distinguish them. 

in terms of relative approachability, there are perhaps some differences but not substantive ones, for me. World of Darkness can stand alone, just as this version of Vampire can. the possibilities for branching out or remixing other subsets of the world don't take away from that.  

so does that mean my only meaningful axis of comparison, other than past gameplay experience, is aesthetics?

I initially summed up the vibes of World of Darkness as "film noirartsy" and "alternatingly grunge/emo/punk," with a heavy tinge of romance and mystery. then, in Vampire's opening match 6, I wrote, "let's take everything I said about World of Darkness in opening round #1, but add a few gallons of flawlessly immortal elegance and deep red, viscous blood."

so... which is more worthy of this arbitrary prize? the artsy black-and-white film noir? or the highly polished, classic gloss of black-and-white-and-blood? which one looks best posed against the backdrop of a perfectly staged alleyway at night?

 
SYSTEM     World of Darkness   
Vampire: the Masquerade 5e            
back cover tagline = "Your greatest fears aren't
make believe; they're real."
"Death is not the end."
publisher =
White Wolf
White Wolf
pub. date =
2004
2018
original cost =
$24.99 $55.00
length =
8 chapters / 223 pages 13 chapters / 400 pages
my exp. level =
more than some
lots

 

it is a difficult choice. both of these styles please me. both games and gameworlds have helped me experience visceral, intense struggles and tell sweeping, tragically beautiful stories. 

my decision comes down to a fairly small nuance, I guess. for all that these two systems share, the one is by design very broad and open-ended, accomodating of plenty fairly typical man-vs-monsters adventures. World of Darkness will most likely have you roleplay a communal struggle against encroaching supernatural evils from who-knows-what great beyond. and while that is is awfully heroic and awesome, it is a bit less unique. 

to instead struggle against a persistent, internal, irreversable corruption inside your own blood... that is different. it feels... more, somehow. less trite, less bounded by the rules of a proper hero's journey and all that. the focus of it, the individuality of it-- it makes the struggle a lonely, desperate, mostly hopeless one. how much more romantic can we get than that? and with the focus of Vampire, we get to fight-- for whatever idealistic or misguided or prideful reasons-- against something our own fallen selves have become. that dark conflict gives this game a more unique and interesting trajectory for stories than any other game I've ever played. so far.

 

next match-up review (the last before the semifinals!): The One Ring vs A Song of Ice and Fire

Friday, October 20

here there be dragons

opening match #8: Shadowrun 5e vs A Song of Ice and Fire 

this final opening round match-up review one has taken me a bunch of extra time for many reasons, firstly being that our mini-campaign of A Song of Ice and Fire spanned 5 whole weeks, plus a delay or two and a good session zero. thank you very much to friend Caroline for joining in on that game-- it was a most intriguing whirlwind of an adventure!

secondly and thirdly: I had been rather intimidated and hesitant about grappling with the notoriously labyrinthine Shadowrun book again. and I am a tad busier now than I was in August.

I last played Shadowrun many years ago now-- 2018ish I suppose? we and some friends ran through a short 3-session arc once in Indiana and once again in Louisiana; both were quite fun. and since 2019 I've been a fan of a narrative podcast performance version of Shadowrun called Fun City. it's good stuff. Mike Rugnetta is awesome, as are his roleplaying friends, and their voices plus marvelous sound design all come together to make the system look impressively manageable, somehow. (sidenote: I also found their Float City story arc, a pandemic side project using the indie RPG system Stillfleet, extra extra cool. someday I may need to check out Stillfleet properly. I notice it calls itself "grimdark," too. interesting.)

anyway, along with all that in-person and vicarious storytelling fun, I remembered Shadowrun being supremely complicated and overwhelming. it took me a while to work up the energy to face it again with a (hopefully, sort of, somewhat) more open mind.

the A Song of Ice and Fire RPG, conversely, was totally new. I've watched the HBO show (much thanks to all the friends who ever shared their HBO subscriptions and/or couches and homes to facilitate that endeavor), read three of the Game of Thrones books, and this past summer we watched House of the Dragon, too. there is much about Mr. Martin's world that is utterly vivid and iconic. I'd say it deserves its fame. Jeremiah and I were excited to have this tournament as an excuse to actually try out the RPG system based on it all.

once more I've kept the same outline of sorts for this review: a tidy table of metadata, summaries of the few characters I've made in each system, and then thoughts on their aesthetics, mechanics, approachability, and preliminary(ish) judgements.

SYSTEM           
Shadowrun (5e) A Song of Ice and Fire 
tagline = "Everything Has a Price" 
"Adventure, war, and intrigue in George R.R. Martin's World of Westeros"
publisher =
Catlyst Game Labs
Green Ronin Publishing
pub. date =
2019 2014
cost =
$59.99 $49.95
length =
11 major sections
/ 496 pages
13 chapters
/ 320 pages
my exp. level =           
some

none prior



previous characters

sadly, I have very thin memories of my two prior Shadowrun characters. both appeared in different renditions of "Mr. Sandman vs. the Dragon," Jeremiah's tried and true 3-session adventure. and I know both were riggers, created as such on recommendation from my husband GM, for the sake of that character type's relative simplicity.

one was named Kitza and I think her character sheet is kicking around somewhere in a box... likely buried beyond any easy reference. the other was a dwarf, I think? maybe named Pablo... or something like that? I remember something about some family of his being trafficked by a megacorporation and somehow, for better or for worse, were able to crawl free from a shipping container on some crowded docks at the end of the story. maybe. 

all in all, not much to reminisce about here. onward to the fun new stuff!

new characters

when I (finally) got around to re-reading Shadowrun and wading through its differently-unique character creation system, I came up with a mystic adept half-inuit half-Japanese elf chick named Ingyaka. she's sort of secret agent-y in my imagination-- like a stealthy, nature-loving, spirit-whipsering Jason Bourne or something. since we didn't plan a Shadowrun one-shot for this tournament, I have no idea how she'd show up in actual gameplay, and indeed I confess that I called her finished enough once I'd chosen her many magic spells. the tedium of figuring out what gear and eqiupment to purchase with even just six thousand nuyen (6000¥)--the lowest amount you can possibly start with-- didn't seem necessary just to write about it for this review.

-

character creation in A Song of Ice and Fire is much less an individual affair than it is in most other RPG systems where one expects to play as a member of an adventuring party. in this particular game, players first collaborate in creating a noble house-- perhaps one as great and powerful as the Starks or the Baratheons, or perhaps one of lesser renown, one bowing at the feet of some grander pillar of Westerosi history. ours was built along these lines-- a smaller house under the protection of and bound by honor to the great and wealthy Lannisters.

we called ourselves House Portayne, a wealthy house ruling an island of silver mines just off the west coast of the Reach, south of the Iron Islands. Caroline primarily played Lady Alasta Portayne, and I primarily played her second-born child, Tobytha. we had some input on the Lord (the chaste and humble Elrin Portayne) and other children (an older brother, Ethon, and a younger girl, Joryssa), as well as some side characters associated with the family. together we came up with a name and some basic info for our family's maester, Maester Bridon (hailing from house Wylde). later on, for my second official character, I created Gwenna Fallside, a rough castle guard who quickly earns the family's trust and becomes castellan of Silverfont Castle. for a few highly intense B-plot scenes inbetween the primary roleplaying action, Caroline and I played as Gwenna and the Maester. one of us may have gotten forcibly tossed out of a tower window to their death. very Game-of-Thones-y, isn't it? the B-plots were all very neat, adding to the deep and expansive feel of the game. 

our mini-campaign was set to span the reigns of Aegon the Conqueror and Maegor the Cruel, and we knew ahead of time that House Portayne would not survive. it turned out that we were all utterly doomed to be poisoned by jealous Lannisters and chased down by pirates trying to escape the inevitable seige of our island. little Joryssa did grow up and get married off to a son of House Reed, so maybe she and her line will survive to remember her origins. exploring the long-ago past of the Song of Ice and Fire universe like this was incredibly cool, even if all evidence of our House was hopelessly erased in the end.

aesthetics

these two games both come with quite intricate worlds-- one explicitly grown from the richly detailed, sprawling civilizations in Martin's novels and the other from the remix of almost everything else a person could want to tell a story about. both are alternate versions of something like western civilization, in a way. in A Song of Ice and Fire, we have an alternate history of European geopolitical conflicts, with zombies and magic and dragons and extra murder on top. in Shadowrun, it's an alternate near-future, with ruthless megacorporations and magic and dragons and cyberpunks all the way down. 

A Song of Ice and Fire, as an RPG system, seems to me like a vast, ornate, and orderly library of fairly traditional fantasy ideas-- spacious yet organized, and more or less tidy. it may have dozens of secret passages and a skeleton or two hidden in the corners, but generally it's presentable and logical, even if there's a lot going on. its illustrations have a soft realism, not lacking in the violence you'd expect from this particular setting, but lit by torches and candles so it all seems not quite mundane, but not quite so shocking or garish either. the book's design feels monestarial, with a tinge of rennaissance, maybe a little bit fancy-Shakespearean on the edges. there is a lot of all-caps, angular and serifed, strong and delicate at the same time, perfectly high contrast and comfortable to skim through.

conversely, the Shadowrun system feels like a massive kitchen sink full of influences. some of the art reminds me of Paul Kidby's style, which does seem fitting somehow (he's the artist who illustrated plenty of Terry Pratchett's work). other pages and spreads are more evocative of comic book and/or videogame art. like I said-- it is a mishmash. in a good way.

if this system were a physical room it would be a somewhat grimy, mostly abandoned, very magical attic full of random knickknacks, old photo albums, broken electronics, weird porcelain figurines, and wildly colorful posters, all collected over many decades and now surrounded by a tangled sea of wires and cables and spikes and jewelry. it's got all the neon-and-fishnets and glossy high-tech punk style of Cyberpunk mixed in with an animistic spookiness. we could say Pathfinder and Mage and Werewolf got put in a compost heap with all the other urban, cyberpunk techno-fantasies you've ever heard of, and Shadowrun is what crawled out, dripping with lightning and breathing fire. here, orcs and elves and magic and machines coexist with normality just like anything else that ever might have evolved on the planet Earth.

funnily enough, dragons and dragon imagery show up far more prevalently in the Shadowrun book-- little tattoo-ish line-art dragon symbols glow red in the bottom corners of every page, next to blocky page numbers and footer text-- than in A Song of Ice and Fire. Shadowrun gives us 8 lines of index entries under "dragon(s)," whereas "dragon" doesn't even show up as a unique entry in A Song of Ice and Fire's (much shorter) index; over there we only see Dragonbone, Dragonglass, and Dragonstone. that's interesting, eh? what if we wanted to play Targaryens?

mechanics

summing up the game mechanics and rules for these two isn't going to be easy. but I'll do my best. at least they have one wonderfully simple thing in common: rolling a bunch of d6s all at once based on your rating(s) in whatever skill.

for character creation, Shadowrun gives you 5x5 grid of options, across which to prioritize various character elements: metatype, attribute points, skill points, magic abilities, and extra funds for gear/equipment. for each column, you can only choose from the options included at one of the 5 priority levels. 

the Shadowrun priority table, a 5x5 grid labeled horizontally with character elements and vertically with priority levels A through E
{ the Shadowrun 5e priority table. choose one option per priority level A-E }
 

within the basic constraints of those priorities, you'll then assign ratings to 8 core attributes, a few derived stats (Edge, Essence, and Magic) that I still don't totally understand very well, and however many relevant skills you can afford. and good gracious it seems like there is an almost infinite list of skills. the actual rules even allow for making up your own skills if you find that the pre-written lists don't fit what you want to do. so how's that for flexible? if your character uses magic, a you'll also take a magic ability rating and choose some related skills and spells. there are plenty of spells to choose from, too, and they can be learned in any order.

finishing touches for your character will involve choosing qualities and spending some of the 25 Karma you start with. Shadowrun qualities work kind of like the advantages, merits, and flaws in World of Darkness-- adding positive qualities costs you a few Karma, but adding negative qualities (like addiction, a bad reputation, etc.) can earn you some of it back. Karma is one way you'll level up as your game progresses, so you don't have to spend it all at character creation, but you have to spend at least some. 

once gameplay gets going, it's pretty action focused. the whole concept of Shadowrun is that you and your party get hired as Shadowrunners-- fairly unscrupulous folks taking on dangerous semi-legal jobs on the fringes of society, hoping to get away with it every time, earn an excellent reputation, and rake in millions of nuyen (¥ = the currency of this particular dystopian future). no matter how sneaky you might be, things are bound to go wrong.

combat works using very short "combat turns" of 3 seconds each, during which each player acts according to their initiative score. for some reason, there are also 6 types of initiative depending on what kind of combat is going on-- are we in the real world, or in the matrix, or in the astral plane somewhere? the various initiative options provide different numbers of d6s, so you'll roll that number of initiative dice, add your initiative attribute rating, and that total is your initiative score. whoever has the highest score goes first, and so on, til the end of the round. then everyone subtracts 10 from their score, and those who still have a positive number can act again.

actions are divided up into free actions, simple actions, complex actions, and special "interrupting" actions. very Pathfinder-esque, overall. whatever the action or test, you'll add your ability and skill ratings, then roll that many d6s. a 5 or higher is a hit, and depending on the task difficulty, you'll need some number of hits to succeed. rolling a 1 means a glitch in whatever you're trying to do. and usually that's bad.

as your team completes shadowruns for all their shadowy clients, you'll earn cash rewards and Karma, with which you can then purchase more gear and any upgrades that make sense for your story, according to whatever you can afford.  character progression is all quite customizable. 

-

I've briefly mentioned the group House creation aspect of A Song of Ice and Fire already. once you've created your House, each player creates a character, either working from scratch or starting with one of the provided archetypes. the system here reminded me a lot of the Wrath & Glory character creations options, except there are more of them available. I do think having a good range of pre-made templates to which you then add your own flavor is really nice. 

I want to say the individual character sheet for A Song of Ice and Fire is one of the simplest I've ever seen. rather than attributes + skills, we just get one list of 19 abilities, nice and alphabetical all the way from Agility and Animal Handling to Healing, Languages, and Marksmanship, and on to Warfare and Will. scores for each normally start at 2 and go up from there. most abilities also come with a range of specialties (skill with a certain weapon, or a certain approach, etc.) that can grant you bonus dice on relevant rolls.

your characters' age will also play a major role in some of their other stats. younger characters have fewer points to spend on ability ratings, but more destiny points to start with. destiny points can be spent for bonus qualities, or they can be used in various ways during gameplay to add bonus dice or change the outcome of a scene in particularly dire circumstances. as your character ages, they'll gain more experience but also more flaws.

the system allows for free creative decision making with some things, but also gives you fun tables full of options to roll for with others. the dice may dictate which part of the continent your House is from, how established or respected they are, how much land, population, defense, wealth, and influence they have, and whether or not there's an heir or a maester or an army at your disposal. as your game progresses, you'll make House Fortune rolls fairly often to see how all those stats change over months and years of in-game time. this was some of the most fun we had storytelling the big picture-- coming up with the story of a new resource or alliance that could explain the increase of wealth for our House, or imagining the crimes or plagues that would explain a drastic dip in population added to the pure fun of rolling dice for the quantitative stats. 

on the smaller scene-by-scene scale, gameplay in A Song of Ice and Fire involves combining your ratings and speciality bonuses for each ability, rolling that many d6s, then adding up all the results. it's more math than just recognizing the 5+ dice as successes and ignoring the rest, but it also feels a little more dramatic that way too. even if you roll low numbers, if you're rolling enough dice, it might still add up to a success. difficulty levels range from "automatic," requiring no roll at all, or "easy," requiring at least 1, all the way up to "very hard" at 18 or "heroic," requiring a total of 21 or more.

critical successes are a thing only if your total roll when attacking is double the total of your opponent's defense. fumbles are optional, only if your game table is into the higher stakes of something unexpectedly awful happening when all your dice land on 1. 

there are some special rules and procedures for tournaments (jousting and other non-combat contests), battlefields and warfare (large-scale multi-unit combat) and intrigue (social combat in simple, standard, or complex modes)-- most of that is laid out in a pretty clear way as a reference.

for character advancement, A Song of Ice and Fire is an XP system, though you can also earn coin and status through gameplay. during our game at least, leveling up seemed a very gradual process. there are only three ways to spend XP in the book: it costs 10 to add or improve a specialty, 30 to upgrade an ability rating, and 50 to buy an additional destiny points. it seems somewhat limited (and expensive), but not inappropriately so.

 

approachability

neither of these games sits firmly in a category of those with cozy, simple RPG mechanics. beyond the nice, clean familiarity of the stalwart d6, there are layers of rules and exceptions and variations that make both systems at least a little more daunting for the average player. but with a good GM to guide you through it, the struggle can be minimized a great deal.

the first chapter in A Song of Ice and Fire is a primer on the world of Westeros. the book doesn't assume readers are intimately familiar with the world and in fact rehashes a good amount of the history, the map, and the vibes for us. there's enough here that you could get by without much prior knowledge of the books or show if you had to (though why that would ever be the case is a separate and valid question). 

I found it quite odd that the book uses SIF and SIFRP as its chosen abbreviations, rather than the ASoIaF that I've seen way more often out in the sea of internet discourse about the books. perhaps the 2009 publication of the first RPG edition pre-dated the rise of ASoIaF as the more ubiquitous acronym? or perhaps leaving out the articles and prepositions and conjunctions seemed more official? I have no idea, but so it goes. however odd it seems to me, I suppose it doesn't matter so very much.

the order of things may matter a bit more. the introductory chapters make sense enough-- setting, rules, character creation... but after that we bounce back and forth a bit-- chapters 4 and 5 go over general abilities and specialties, then destiny points and qualities. only then do we get into the chapters on house and lands, with all the procedures and tables for creating our house and determining its history and fortunes. that seems backwards, but I suppose the beautiful affordances of a codex mean we can reference any of its contents in whatever order we like. good crossreferences and wayfinding and beautiful visual hierarchy all make that easy enough, here.

if, despite my general pickiness about the ordering of things, I can forgive the A Song of Ice and Fire RPG book for a bit of wonky ordering, it appears that I (still, these five years later) cannot forgive Shadowrun for similar crimes. 

I hope I'm not belaboring the fact that Shadowrun is pretty intimidating as a book and as a system. the fact that there is so much detailed content pulled from fantasy and sci-fi means that it really ought to be handled and designed as carefully as possible for its readers... and perhaps they did their best? who knows. almost since I first touched this game book I have harbored persistent gripes about the mismatched non-parallel lists here and there and everywhere. on any given page, a trio of stats may be listed out A, B, and C, only to have the same stats or categories printed on a standard character sheet in the opposite order, or scrambled to B, A, C instead. why? for the sake of all the dragon-hoarded treasures in all the universes, why would anyone do this?

adding to that the relatively small text, plenty of jargon, and so many options for customization among various slightly-different categories and subcategories, I'd wager a brand new player would need to fall very deeply and very hard in love with this setting to want to tackle the complexity of learning the system from scratch. or maybe it just takes confidence to bend the system to your own creative will?

preliminary verdicts

Shadowrun, upon my revisiting it this past month, really was a lot cooler than I remembered it. one must appreciate its ambitious scope and uniqueness, if nothing else.

I found A Song of Ice and Fire quite unique as well. I'm less a fangirl of its base media, but I still think it's fair to say this game evokes Martin's novels just as well as The One Ring evoked Tolkien's for me.

my experience levels with both systems are pretty even here. both were fun gameplay experiences, both are interesting, and both are significantly different from some of the more popular or mainstream RPGs I've covered so far.

so... do I let my annoyance at Shadowrun's inconsistencies of arrangement knock it out in this first round?

yes. 

yes, I do. while I recognize my response to these things as (perhaps more than) a little bit nitpicky, those issues have frustrated my practical experience of the game in a real way. and it all could have been avoided with even the merest ounce of designery forethought or technical editing attention. that this version is the 5th edition makes it even less excusable. 

congratulations, A Song of Ice and Fire RPG. for what it's worth, I think most poeple would agree with me on this ruling, even if not for the same reasons.

what's next?  

I'll summarize my 8 quarterfinalists and articulate a few final reasons why they win in a recap post next week. after that, dear Jeremiah can help me match them up for a new round. since all the most extensive exploration and research has already been done, future rounds will probably involve much shorter, broad-strokes reviews for comparison purposes. ideally I'll cut 8 down to 4 before Thanksgiving, and from 4 to 2 shortly thereafter, so perhaps we'll crown a first ever TTRPG champion by the end of the semester. fingers crossed. 

and after that? I'm not sure. there are still so many more RPG books. maybe we do a tournament of expansion content, setting books-- like the new Tal'Dorei setting book I have barely looked at, or individual published campaign adventures? I could explore Stillfleet properly. Coyote and Crow surely deserves some attention. or it could be fun to invite a whole roster of judges besides little old me, but that would also involve a bunch more structure and planning and logistics. we'll see when and how anyone has time and energy for that sort of thing.

in the meantime, let me know-- how would you rank these 16 games if you were the tournament judge?

Friday, September 8

once and future risks

opening match #7: 7th Sea 2e vs. Cyberpunk RED

this one is quite the contrast, isn't it? I almost can't get over how strikingly different these games are. we have one all about heroism and romantic adventures on the wide open seas, where explorers will risk their lives for honor and glory to stand bravely against the shadowy villains of a preindustrial, magical world. and then the other, a game of cybertech and surveillance and hacking and drugs and shady alleyway deals, set in perhaps the most hectic, grimy, yet also sparkly version of the future, where a bunch of tortured, damaged antiheroes emerge from however much generational trauma you want to imagine, just trying to make it through the night under the echoing buzz of a corp-ruined, crime-ridden, chaos-loving city. 

while I didn't have any prior experience with any Cyberpunk RPG before this, there is plenty of cyberpunk-ish content in the world that I have seen. a handful of Gibson novels, of course. various hacker shows and hacker characters. Mr. Robot, Altered Carbon, (still need to finish watching both of those series, someday.) and even The Matrix films in their way. on top of such general pop culture exposure, I've played a little Shadowrun (more about that in the final opening match, soon-ish), and I watched husband Jeremiah playing Cyberpunk 2077 once upon a time, but none of that counts as playing the RPG of Cyberpunk RED. this one was totally new. 

7th Sea, in contrast, is a game I've got some experience with. not a ton, but some. and while we're diving into relevantly themed pop culture, surely I have ingested even more swashbuckling-esque content than I have cyberpunk, since it is often more "mainstream," we might say. all those charming Johnny Depp movies about pirates. The Mask of Zorro. Casanova. Master and Commander. The Princess Bride, even. practically any good classic adventure movie could fit the bill, from Indiana Jones to The Mummy. I'd even count the tv show Firefly, at a stretch. (and could this reenactment gun show festival thing count too, somehow?)

for this penultimate opening round, I've yet again used a similar outline of sorts: quick table of metadata, summaries of prior characters and experience with each system, new characters, then thoughts on their aesthetics, mechanics, and approachability. as I write and revise this post, I'm still deciding which way my preliminary verdicts will lean.

SYSTEM     7th Sea
Cyberpunk RED           
tagline =          
"The roleplaying game of swashbuckling and intrigue."
"The roleplaying game of the dark future."
publisher =
John Wick Presents / Chaosium Inc.
R. Talsorian Games
pub. date =
2016
2020
original cost =
$59.99 $60.00
length =
9 chapters / 304 pages
14 major sections / 456 pages
my exp. level =              
some 
none prior


previous characters + pop culture and such

our online gaming group began a grand swashbuckling 7th Sea adventure somewhere in the murky months of 2020, in which I played the young totally-not-Scottish scholar Effie McIntyre. we sailed from totally-not-Great-Britain all the way to totally-not-the-Caribbean and started exploring some spooky ruins. our storyteller wasn't loving it though, so we switched back to D&D after a bit. 

Effie and her compatriots were fun while they lasted though-- we all sailed out from the troubled Highland Marches on the Righ Eileen, a merchant brigantine captained by Effie's uncle, crewed by a trio of cousins and other NPCs. Effie's brother (Baltair-- played by dear Jeremiah) served as first mate. I remember encounters at sea and along the coasts of the pirate-ruled Atabean Islands. there was vengeance afoot, and secret societies, precious ancient artifacts and supernatural skullduggery.

some years later, we got another 7th Sea game going, this time set more firmly on the continent of Théah and its various totally-not-European nation states. for this one, friend Chris and I created and roleplayed a pair of noble cousins from Castille (i.e. totally-not-Spain)-- Zetallia Fierro Greca de Tomas de Rioja y Carleon (yes I stole her first name from Catherine Zeta-Jones because of Zorro, so what?!) and Baltasar Cabello de Carlos-Miguel de Monte Ciervo (known to and loved by his close friends as Baz). the third in our trio was a mysterious Vodacce (i.e. totally not Italian) woman called Andolina di Amati, Lina for short, played marvelously by friend Alyssa. 

same friend Alyssa happened upon and recommended to us a neat little 7th Sea podcast about the time we were getting the game started, and I jumped into that wholeheartedly. it's not live-streamed/raw-footage play like the Critical Role folks do, but for me the editing and shorter episodes make it far more digestible and enjoyable. do check it out if you like pirates and fabulous voice acting. 

our adventures with Zeta and Baz and Lina only featured a few teaspoons of pirates, relatively speaking. but what a range of adventures we did have! lavish feasts with drinking and dancing in the old castles of the Glamour Isles, deadly intrigue in the dirty streets of Carleon, voyages alongside selkies, and desperate fighting against monsters, inquisitors, and worse. somewhere inbetween all the adventure, Zetallia was given a holy vision of Theus and chosen as a prophet. I wrote a little bit about her reactions to that, and her feelings about home and family and priorities, over here.


new characters

my new 7th Sea character for this tournament is a duelist from the heart of the totally-not-France country of Montaigne. I named her Irène Valois; she is a tall, toned, somewhat vain woman-- a skilled fighter with frizzy dark hair and deeply olive skin. having been raised with all the privilege her noble family could provide, she has trained hard to become a Musketeer, to protect and serve the capital city of Charouse. she also nurtures two competing dreams: to venture east and hunt monsters in the deadly Lock-Horn Woods, or-- perhaps the safer path?-- to join the highly selective Lightning Guard and keep even the mere shadows of any revolutionary assassins far away from l'Empereur's chambers. when she has a night off duty, she loves to spend much of it looking up at the stars.

for Cyberpunk, I made two new imaginary protagonists: Cortessa the lonely, moody Tech and Jaq the brash, vengeful Netrunner. any romance they come with is surely of a very different texture than the classic swords and sorcery of 7th Sea.

Cortessa also goes by Cortex or Tex in their closer circles. I imagine them like an incredibly androgynous mix of Benedict Cumberbatch and Tilda Swinton-- curly, silvery mohawked hair, pale skin with grease stains up to the elbows. as a Tech, Cortessa tinkers and breaks and fixes and builds stuff with bits and wires, hardware and software and cyberware, scraping by as a freelancer and hoping someday to move out of the dingy streets into an actually nice, actually safe apartment somewhere in a corp arcology. will such dreams ever come true? hard to say. even if they do, they might not be as dreamy as anyone hopes.

Jaq "the jungle queen" Aranda is the Netrunner character I decided to play in our very awesome one-shot two Fridays back. she's from the streets too, but not quite so whiny or desperate about it. she is tough. or at least she looks tough enough that it amounts to the same thing.

a photo of a half-colored sketch, in ballpoint ink, sharpie, and highlighter. she's got spiky blue/purple hair, pink sequined overalls, and a chunky gold leather belt
{ a sloppy sketch of Jaq }

Jaq's only ambition is to get by one day at a time and brutally punish anyone who gets in her way. for the last several months she's been tracking down the rotten Arasaka execs who must have been behind the kidnapping of her family and the death of her 4-year-old daughter. she's going to make the corp let the survivors go or she's going to burn it all down.

our one-shot was quite an enjoyable rollercoaster of violence, hacking, stealth, and playing dress-up. it was great. maybe we will write some spin-off short stories someday.

aesthetics

Cyberpunk RED evokes all the slick and glitchy neon you might expect. crazy punk hairstyles. strobe lights. mirror shades. implants and biotech of all shapes. plus a ton of cutting-edge slang, of course. the single best word to describe Cyberpunk is 'attitude.' and we must acknowledge that attitude can never just be a regular, innocuous noun. there is far too much connotation in it now-- it is a word bursting at its seams with tension, negativity, and conflict. that vibe infuses the whole setting of Cyberpunk, setting the stage for some pretty intense stories.

and 'intense' is another good word for Cyberpunk. it is loud. bold. unabashed. aggressively nonchalant. the book itself blends the look of graffiti and old-school monospace computer console typography. there is heavy use of all-caps and small-caps and drop-caps. the setting and the system also seems to be a bit of a catch-all-- this rebooted cyberworld is to Gibson and sci-fi as D&D's ever-expanding world is to Tolkien and fantasy. from its first pages the book takes up a very "choose your own adventure" kind of layout; all the thumbnailed cross-references in the intro chapter want to be hypertext. they want you to click on them and be whisked to the right page.

every little thing has a place here in this overcrowded futuristic hive. but it feels chaotic anyway. there's too much. it will burst into dark and senseless violence at any moment. I'm seeing Cyberpunk RED as a flashier, more disco, more in-your-face version of World of Darkness. of course, it's more high-tech and futuristic, too. there's not much hope, not much safety or goodness-- just survival.

7th Sea may dabble in chaos and darkness, but it's not the senseless kind. it's a dramatic, sweeping, perfectly orchestrated sort of chaos. like the perfect long-take chase scene across a crowded ballroom. there may be villains and darkness in these stories, but none of it stands a chance against our heroes. I was describing this game to a friend last week as "Zorro + Pirates of the Caribbean + a handful of stereotypical renaissance faires" and I think that conjures plenty of the right vibes: swords. ships. lots of nautical imagery strewn about. maps and compasses. coastlines and courtiers and caped crusaders. many fancy costumes, masques, intriguing magical trinkets, and maybe a few fairy wings if you're lucky.

rich shades of brown and sepia, with touches of copper here and there, all keep the relatively simple book design feeling cohesive and authoritative. chapter headings are in nice big loopy, swishy handwritten type. the art is glowing and neat-- almost-but-not-quite like a bunch of actual portraits from the actual 17th century. it's all more like snapshots than portraits: candid moments of drama and danger, a dash of the mystical here and sprinkles of the mythical there, all laid out to evoke vast possibilities for exploration and adventure.

photo of the chapter 3 art from 7th Sea: two figures dueling against a backdrop of a palace room on fire
{ photo of one of 7th Sea's chapter spreads }
 

mechanics

character creation for 7th Sea is fairly involved, but really fun at the same time. there are no templates or sample quick-builds or other shortcuts. instead, the book invites you to start with a concept: a national origin and a shred of personality, and then build from there using a full 20 questions about their backstory, psychology, and connections in the world. from this deeply creative foundation, only then do you move on to choosing Traits and Skills, Advantages, Quirks, a virtue and a hubris, etc. characters are pretty customizable despite the relatively simple set-up of 5 Traits and 16 Skills. the range of backgrounds and advantages to choose from feels just about right-- not so many that it's overwhelming, and not so few that it's boring.

part of the variety comes from the setting itself. there are 10 nations your character might call home-- from the island nations of Avalon and Inismore to Vestenmennavenjar in the far north and Vodacce off to the south-- each one roughly based on some actual part of 17th-century Europe, but far more mystical and far less racist and misogynist, thank goodness. each nation has a few exclusive backgrounds and a few favored advantages, too.

7th Sea uses all d10s, which is familiar enough to us at this point-- 8 of the 12 systems I've reviewed so far do. but in this system they do not work the way dice work in most other RPGs. rather than simply adding up numbers and comparing them against some kind of difficulty level, a player in 7th Sea will roll their handful of d10s (based on ranks in a given Trait + Skill + any bonus dice) and then tally up how many sets of at least 10 can be made from the results. each set of 10 is called a Raise, and that's the important number. bonus dice can come from all kinds of places-- using one of your advantages, spending your own Hero Points, enacting a virtue or a hubris or a quirk, or in receiving help from other characters.

depending on where your story is at, you'll roll dice for either a free-flowing Dramatic Scene or for a more structured Action Scene. each character in the scene will have so many Raises to use to effect change. narrative control for Dramatic Scenes is shared however it makes sense. for Action Scenes, it starts with whoever has the most Raises, then in descending order. how you spend those Raises depends on how your character views the scene, its risks and consequences, opportunities, etc.your traits and skills will guide your approach to any given situation, but the system rewards narrative prowess more than it rewards having a lot of dice to roll (though of course more dice = more Raises = more potential for showing off your narrative prowess). the idea is to spur creative, narrative storytelling and build a dynamic, collaborative epic of your own. maybe it's also less math? or maybe it's just different math. 

over multiple sessions, character advancement happens in lockstep with the narrative-- each character is writing their own story, outlined in smaller "story steps." accomplishing all the steps in your story will let you level-up a Trait or a Skill related to it. Zeta's first story involved finding a mentor to teach her a bit of dueling. once she did, her Skill in Weaponry went up from 1 to 2. 

mechanically, that's pretty much all there is to playing 7th Sea: roll, count up your Raises, and tell a cool story. all the rest is true roleplaying.

-

Cyberpunk RED is also all about the d10, though some d6s show up here and there. we have three options for building a character in this system: one fully custom/from-scratch process and two shortcuts or character templates, which are quite nice as scaffolding, because holy cow there are a lot of aspects to consider. to start, you choose your character's Role, and most things follow from that first decision. there are 10 Roles altogether, from Rockerboy to Nomad (and who on earth knows why they are in the order they are in-- Rockerboy, Solo, Netrunner, Tech, Medtech, Media, Exec, Lawman, Fixer, Nomad-- it's not alphabetical and I can't quite suss out any other organizing principle. is it pure random chaos? who knows). there are nifty flowcharts and tables to help you build your character concept from basically nothing but vibes: pick a Role > Run your Lifepath > Buy your Stats > and so on. it's a pretty fun process too, but does drag on a bit. some of it reminded me of the Wrath & Glory system, where you can choose and archetype and build from there. 

thankfully all the flowcharts and template options make it a little easier to make decisions about all the rest. on top of the 10 different Roles, there are 10 key Stats and like an impossible number of Skills. 30? 40? I don't even want to go count them all again, it's so many!

gameplay proper is a bit more straightforward overall, though there can be plenty going on if you've picked up lots of gear, fancy cyberware, or lots of hacking abilities. each specific Role comes with a key Role Ability. for my Netrunner, Jaq, it was the Interface ability. she starts at rank 4, which unlocks a certain number of sneaky, hacker-y "Net actions" (in contrast to "Meat actions," which are normal actions anyone can take in meatspace). Jaq has a cyberdeck with 7 programs installed-- some offensive and some defensive. in our too-short 3-hour one-shot, she used them to divert power from her sketchy landlord's defense systems, infiltrate a hospital's records and surveillance cameras, and switch a stolen helicopter into autopilot for a while. super cool. 

hacking aside, the basic mechanics of gameplay involve taking your base rating for each skill (the relevant stat plus your skill level) and then adding the result of a d10 roll. rolling a 10 is a critical success, meaning you can re-roll that d10 and add that result to your total. if you roll a 1, that's a critical failure. same deal, but in reverse-- you'll re-roll the d10 and subtract it from the total result. depending on your character build, and how lucky they are, you'll also get a pool of Luck points that you can spend to add, 1 per point, to your result.

specific stats for weapons and armor and other equipment may add bonuses or change the damage for some actions-- those are the trickier things to keep track of along the way (though no tricker than weapons or spell slots and such in D&D, really).

  

approachability

I mentioned the "choose your own adventure" layout of Cyberpunk earlier. in some ways, that makes navigating the many many sections and options in the book a fairly flexible process, provided you're paying attention to those cross references and the other wayfinding signals in the margins. I didn't always see or properly parse those things until I'd already flipped through three other sections looking for the information I needed. the order of things is a little confusing at times, so I'm glad the writers put some good thought into breaking it down and signalling where to turn. the book does work hard to make itself accessible in plenty of different ways for players with different levels of familiarity. does it always succeed? I think that depends on how each reader's brain works.

{ photo of the margin thumbnail cross-references in the Cyberpunk RED book}

with so many options for character builds, this can feel like a complex system. but much of the complexity is front-loaded, so once you get yourself set up the game itself can be pretty straightforward. basic dice, basic math, lots of fun. my view of this may be a tad skewed, given that our one-shot barely gave us a chance to get used to how our weapons and damage and health points all worked, but so it goes. 

-

7th Sea has its own intricacies, but you can take your time uncovering them as you play. the 20 questions character creation is the most in-depth part of the set-up. with the core book, you've got everything you need in a relatively simple, readable layout. it's a fairly different system, but I'd hardly call it intimidating. it invites a fairly hardcore style of roleplaying and collaborative storytelling, which may not be for everyone. but still, everyone is invited.

if in comparison to other RPGs, 7th Sea seems more difficult or unwieldy as a system, I'm gonna put that down to a general oversaturation in gaming culture of d20 systems like D&D. the abundance of information out there on those systems doesn't inherently make d20 systems easier or more accessible-- it just facilitates an invitational feedback loop of "hey most people are playing these kinds of games, so maybe I'll join the party," on repeat. based on that, D&D may seem easier for most people, and it may in fact be experienced as easier, but mostly for structural reasons rather than game-design reasons (here I'm gonna attempt to cite this scholar on twitter who has made similar arguments somewhere in her feed but I cannot find the exact specific posts).

I suppose it may or may not be useful to talk about structural access vs. inherent access in my review here. but I wanted to mention it. this game is beautiful and it is well-loved and it can be awesome for players who really gel with the roleplaying style. the game seems especially designed for folks who love the voices and the improv and the in-the-moment seeing what a character will do, taking time for describing actions and faces and lines of conversation, reveling in those dramatic moments. it is different from the more broad-strokes, action-for-action's-sake sorts of RPGs in the world, and that means it might require some significant mindset adjustments for players who aren't used to it or who are expecting more quantitative dice-rolling momentum.
 

preliminary verdicts

it's almost hard to imagine more heightened contrast between any two games. no other match thus far has captured such extremely and intensely different worlds and different vibes. 

my 7th Sea experiences have been complicated a bit by interpersonal ups and downs, while my Cyberpunk adventures seem minuscule and rushed in comparison. how to choose? 

there is a sense in which the roleplaying style of 7th Sea is almost-but-not-quite as intimidating and discomfiting to me as the huge, superpowered contexts of Scion and Exalted. its invitation to creative flair within a simple matrix of approaches and dice hasn't totally gripped me as a roleplayer. and yet its setting is intensely alluring. 7th Sea is all the thrilling legends from all my favorite old stories. I think my heart wants this one to win out, even against the attention-grabbing silver chrome neon styles of Cyberpunk, just for the romance of it.

next match-up review: Shadowrun 5e vs A Song of Ice and Fire