Ruin Your Interests

I don't always have writer's block. Sometimes I experience writer's reluctance. It's not that I can't think of anything to write, or even that I'm reluctant to write, rather, it's that I don't want to ruin the ideas I do have. I have to imagine that, for those who don't write regularly, this may be a strange concept. 

Considering I sometimes struggle just to commit words to a page you'd think that I'd take the first idea that came to mind, so long as I could grab hold and run with it. Fresh ideas are also the most fulfilling to write, and that is where their magic lies. An unused idea can sometimes feel as though it has an almost indefinite shelf life so long as you keep it in your head. Of course, why would you keep a great idea in your head when you could splay it on a page? Well, for me at least, it's because I want to do the idea justice. 

If you've ever seen an excellent idea ruined by poor execution then you can probably relate. When writing about my interests, about the things I really care about, I naturally want to make them the best that I can. In writing about something for the first time there is a lot of zeal that sometimes doesn't return in the same way when revisiting a subject. And especially in the case of writing for an audience, such as with a blog where your first draft is frequently also your final draft, there aren't a lot of people who want to read six different reworks while you iron out the kinks. Of course I could also go ahead and do just that, since my primary focus is on practice and not audience. However, I like to consider this blog and No Book Unread to be simultaneous studies on both writing and marketing. (Although to be honest I really hate the term marketing and many of the words related to it for reasons I can explain succinctly.)

There are other issues with using an idea for the first time as well. The first time you write about a particular idea is when you'll be the most passionate, and often the most creative, at least for many revisions. So it can be tempting to frequently re-shelf an idea until you feel you are more proficient. Thinking on that now, that probably deprives me of a lot of ideal practice material. On the other hand, it also brings me to my next point. Writing about your favorite subjects can be very draining, especially because you want to properly convey your love of the subject. This typically results in two things; one, that you rarely feel satisfied with what you've written, and two, that you get bored with the subject and don't touch it for a while. That is, you run the risk of ruining your interests, even if only temporarily.

I should make some more attempts at working with my favorite subjects regardless, as the old adage 'How you practice is how you perform.' has proven true more than once. Writing isn't the only case in which I've kept my favorites 'in reserve', and in previous cases the things I didn't care for as much ended up being becoming what I was better with in the long run. Which just goes to show that if I really want to do my favorite subjects justice I need to practice them, which may mean botching them terribly. So, I guess that will be my first new bit of advice to myself, as well as the first new entry on my writing guidelines list. 

Note to self: Ruin your interests.

From Writing Block to a Block of Writing

Supposedly, the best remedy for writer's block is to just write anyways. According to the advice it doesn't matter what you write, or even that it is any good, the act of writing will clear away the block. The advice is sound, but it seems to me that it is more of a workaround than an actual remedy. Generally speaking, if you have writer's block you have one of two problems: a) You are bereft of ideas, or b) You have an overabundance of ideas. The idea behind writing anyways is that either you'll figure out what to write about or that you'll get some writing done regardless. So, even if you don't know what to write you might still end up with a nice block of text. The problem is that I feel the advice doesn't actual help with the actual issue.

Writing even though you are experiencing writer's block will still give you the benefit of having written something. The question is, does that writing benefit you? If all you're going for is practice, then sure, you gain a little benefit. If you were hoping for some quality content, however, I'd argue that you are pretty much out of luck. The best you might hope for are some good ideas or a few particularly good lines that you can transplant into something worthwhile. 

The thing about writing through a writer's block is that the problem isn't actually solved right away. You're essentially just breaking the damn so that you aren't still stuck the next time you sit down. If you'll excuse some bathroom imagery, it's like a stuck toilet. You can grab your plunger and jam it down in there. That will clear the block but you haven't actually achieved what you set out to do until you flush it all down. It's the same for writer's block. And on that subject, writing through writer's block is about as enjoyable as plunging a clogged toilet too. 

At its best working through a block can help you figure out what you actually want to write, in much the same way that doing anything when you're bored can help you realize what you actually wanted to do. At its worst though working through it can feel as though you've wasted an afternoon. Essentially, writer's block sucks. A writer writes though, and the advice to write something, anything, is still the most effective solution I've come across yet. If nothing else you are doing what a writer is supposed to be doing, even if the result looks like you murdered a dictionary. 

Raise Your Hand for For Robot Arms

Have you ever wanted to trade your organs in for 'upgrades'? Hey, don't give me that look, it's a valid question. Especially since the general consensus is that we are living in the future now it's something you might want to start considering. To clarify though, just so no one thinks I have some good offers on black-market kidneys, what if you could upgrade parts of yourself?

Perhaps it's because I've been playing Xenosaga lately, but the question has been on my mind. If you have even a passing interest in science fiction perhaps the question of body modification has crossed your mind as well. Supposedly, when the future arrives, we are likely to be split down the middle with indecision and heated debate over which is better: biological engineering or bio-mechanization. In other words, raise your hand if you want to be genetically enhanced super-human. Good, now for those of you who didn't raise your hands you'll be getting robot arms and possibly part of a super computer in your brain to help you dwell about your life as you lie awake at night. Last, those of you who opted for neither are part of the 'purist' group, you'll get to enjoy being overshadowed by all your peers who opted for either genetic engineer or robot parts. 

I kid. Sort of. There are some really smart people though who honestly believe that this is going to happen at some point in the future. I even watched a documentary called The Singularity which interviewed a scientist who believed man and machine would eventually merge. Perhaps he's not too far off the mark though, even if he was a bit over-optimistic on the timeline. Even now we are already using technology to prolong our lives, pump our blood, filter our blood, even to help us reproduce. Who's to argue that we won't eventually become the equivalent of elves, and beyond that, reach a point where it's only natural to seek body upgrades for quality-of-life.

To be honest I don't feel that I can really argue the point about whether or not the whole body upgrade phase will ever happen. I don't think it's a matter of if but when. Of course, I also believe that it's not going to be a matter of which but rather which first. Seriously, why choose sides in these things? I never understood the concept that machine integration and biological engineering were mutually exclusive in the long run. If you look at history, even relatively abrupt changes have a natural progression to them and this supposed Singularity, the merging of man and machine, doesn't have to mean that humanity abandons being human for functionality of being a machine. 

Ignoring the whole concept of Artificial Intelligence, for the time being, why can't you have some sweet robot arms but a bio-engineered power supply for said robot arms? Why can't you have computer aided logic as part of your brain and biologically enhanced reflexes? The future, to me, doesn't so much seem to be choosing a side but instead determining where you would fall on a scale. Certainly I think some people would be much happier just outright replacing some of their more finicky organs with some form of machinery  if they felt it would help them live more comfortably day to day, while others would prefer to 'keep their parts' as it were and just attempt to improve or remedy existing functions. Somewhere in-between there is also the whole nano-machines argument. While, strictly speaking, nano-machines are technically a unification of man and machine it seems to fall somewhere more in the middle, as the general concept behind nano-machines is that they are supposed to enhance instead of replace. 

When it comes down to it I'm pretty comfortable with either option these days. Robotic eyes? Sure, as long as I don't have to pop them out and clean them every other day. I'm lazy, and this is supposed to be the future damnit. When it comes down to it I feel like it's hard to lose your humanity just by swapping out a few parts. We humans are remarkably adaptable and pretty much anything we change will naturally become a part of us because that's just how our brain works. Now, when the day comes when we can trade our brains for digital ones, maybe then I'd think twice. Our brains are a massive part of what makes us who we are, so I'd have a hard time accepting the argument that transferring a copy of your brain to a computerized version is 'the same as you were'. Then again, I'd be surprised if we are able to create a computerized replica of the human brain in the next four-hundred years. 

Of course, there is one part that I especially dread with the coming age of human enhancement more than anything else. The emails. 'DON'T JUST ENLARGE YOUR TROUSER SNAKE, MAKE IT PREHENSILE!!!' 
You know it will happen, and it kinda scares me.

Don't Shoot the Mechanic

I was sitting and enjoying the weather, a perfect 76 degrees with a light breeze. I was lost in the middle area of another book, Dragonwing this time, almost oblivious to the world around me. 
"Your car is ready." 

I looked up from my book. I was in the waiting area at my local mechanic; the windows and door were open to take advantage of the nice weather. A warm breeze wafted through, I suddenly wished that I was still lost in my book. I walked up to the window 

"That will be $246.52."

I must have made a face because the lady behind the counter looked apologetic and said something to the effect of "Yeah, I know it adds up quick."

I experienced a mild sense of deja vu. Or maybe I was just overwhelmed by a sudden resurgence of memories. In either case this scene seemed to have reoccurred quite frequently over the last few months. This time it was tires and an oil change. Last time it was a new manifold for the exhaust system. The time before that one of the rear calipers decided it had had enough of my shit and ate through the break pads before moving on to the rotor, which made a lovely grinding noise, like a slab of granite was stuck in the wheel-well, for about a week before I could afford to get it fixed. I blamed the other rear caliper for being a bad influence, as it had screwed up only a few months previous.

To be fair our car, a Nissan Altima, serves us (my wife and I) well but it does seem to be about time for a few parts to be wearing out. The car is approaching 200,000 miles and runs like the day we bought it, but some of the other work-horse parts are starting to be phased out at this point.  This year it just so happens that there is a bit of a queue forming. If the trend continues we should have 1/3 of a new car by 2016. 

Back in the office of my mechanic I stared at the red number at the bottom of the invoice and punched in my debit pin a moment later, my lips a grim line. I still need the bearings in one of the wheels looked at, though whoever did the paperwork last time forgot to write down which one. I've also got a half dozen other big expenses due before the snow hits the ground a few months from now. I try not to think to hard about it, because somehow we always find a way to make things work and I haven't had to sell any organs yet, mine or otherwise. So there's that. 

The bill was stamped paid and I folded it neatly in three parts. I'll be tossing it in the glove box in a moment, as part of a service record history in case we ever sell the car (even though we probably never will). Meanwhile I fantasized about being able to work on the Altima myself, and occasionally taking a break by laying on the pile of money I was saving by doing my own work. 

I certainly feel I have the aptitude to do my own work. I have the trouble-shooting skills from working on computers for years, and I'm apparently competent enough that I managed to get a certification in computer repair, not that I've put it to use yet. So given enough time I'm sure I could learn my way around an engine. I can see myself leaning over an engine, covered in grease and dripping sweat into the organized jumble of parts beneath the hood. I've got my hand snaked down into the engine as I try and prize loose a corroded bolt, my muscles straining. Essentially, the complete opposite of computer repair; since your goal is to vehemently avoid dripping sweat on anything, any sign of grease is a cause for concern if not outright panic, and using much more than a golf putt's worth of pressure is a sign that you're about break something (unless you're installing a heatsink in which case the corroded bolt scenario still applies). 

However, I digress. That won't be happening any time soon, and I highly doubt at all. Learning to work on cars now would mean acquiring tools, dozens of hours of learning (in my experience about half that time is spent staring at something half taken apart with a mixture of despair and grim determination), and I'd still end up paying a good chunk of change for the actual parts. Better that I just stick to what I know, computers, and let the mechanics do their thing. Maybe someday I'll pick up enough mechanic's skills and tools to keep the basics of my car in order. For now though I'll have the satisfaction of keeping my computer running and the minor admiration that comes from the non-tech-savvy, who seem to regard anything relating to computers in the same way most people regard calculus problems, or snakes, or a calculus assignment tied to a snake. 

I latched the glovebox shut and started up the car. It was still 76 degrees out, a perfect day by most people's standards. I cranked my music and rolled down the windows as I pulled out of the lot. The car felt good. It's probably just in my head but the car always feels a little better when I leave. The new tires I had just bought felt like they stuck to the road better. The difference is usually subtle and I sometimes wonder if it's worth shelling out hundreds of dollars for. I need this thing to keep running though, the Altima isn't even paid off yet, though it's nearing that point. Still, the drive home is nice. I guess it's worth it.

At least that's what I'd like to say. There's got to be some point of equilibrium in which the concern over the money spent is canceled out by the peace of mind brought about by vehicle reliability. Right now the expense versus reliability scale is still skewed enough that it caused me to forget what page I was on. Clearly an unacceptable level.

Dungeons and Dragons Part 2 - Shepherds of Wandering Attentions

Last time (A Tangled Web of Rules):

Patrick seemed to appear out of nowhere one day. He befriended Brandon seemingly overnight and soon he just seemed to be hanging out with us all the time. He also happened to bring with him years of D&D 3rd edition experience. It seemed impossible that anyone could comprehend and effectively wield the living mass of rules that was 3rd edition, but somehow he managed it. Little did I known that I would be drawn again into D&D's siren call, or whatever sound a small tome's worth of technical fantasy jargon sounds like. (In my previous experience it typically sounded like a book slamming shut followed by a defeated sigh.) With Patrick offering to take the helm of a D&D campaign, however, my fate was sealed. The legwork was going to be taken care of and after so many years I couldn't help but want to give it another shot...

Dungeons & Dragons can be addicting in a lot of ways, or at least the idea of it can be. 
One of the more romantic aspects of the game is that it provides a proactive outlet for your imagination. For many people who spend a large portion of their day doing things they don't particularly care for (school, work, or otherwise) it can be incredibly refreshing to be able to use your head in a fulfilling way. D&D requires you to sit down with a number of other people and collectively use your imaginations to interact with characters, slay monsters, search for treasure, perform extraordinary feats, or, as is sometimes dictated by the dice, fail spectacularly. The addicting part is that you are being rewarded for being creative, usually just with imaginary riches or fame, but also with good times spent with friends. To those who haven't played, it might seem strange, but you can forge bonds over D&D that are almost as strong as if you had actually been adventuring together.

There are a few catches to the game, however. Much like communism D&D typically works out best on paper since it is difficult, at best, to account for the human element. (Or as 'the human element' is more commonly referred to in D&D, with a mixture of disdain and bemusement, 'the players'.) Although D&D's concept is quite romantic the reality can be much more akin to a wrench being tossed into a woodchipper (alternatively a vacuum encountering a length of shoe-string). The effect can be disconcerting to say the least, and worse, there are endless ways to disrupt the flow of a game. Players can be easily distracted which makes it hard to progress through events. In some groups treasure and loot are the source of endless squabbles. Players can be spiteful, either to the DM or to other characters. Cheating, tangents, confusion over rules, arguments over interpretation of rules, and small fires resulting from disputes over final arbitration of rules are frequent and difficult hurdles that must be cleared in order to run a successful game.

I know all of this now that I have years of experience with role-playing games like D&D  and particularly because I have spent most of my time playing as a DM. (D&D is not the only one of its kind for those that were unaware.) That is to say I spent most of my time running the game itself and trying to simultaneously screw-over and reward the players. Being a DM can be a thankless job, and learning how to be a good DM is the single, most prominent factor in determining whether or not a game runs smoothly. As a DM, you are everything in the game world but a player, as well as a mediator, arbitrator, rule-keeper, and shepherd of wandering attentions. It's the sort of job that you can't do well, or at least for long, unless you can consider being DM its own reward (more ramblings on DM'ing in a future post). It's for this reason that nearly every DM, at one point or another, decides that they want to try their hand at being a player for once. 

 That's where Patrick came in. For most of High School, a small eternity at that point in my life, I had been running my 4312 campaign. Although I generally enjoyed acting as DM, seeing how much fun my players regularly had left me wanting to try my hand at being a player too. Around that time Patrick inserted himself into our group of friends, claiming to understand 3rd edition D&D's rules and boasting of his past experiences as a DM. It was a bit jarring at first, though not unwelcome. D&D had always seemed to exist in the vacuum of my social circles so meeting someone else who had actually DM'ed was unprecedented. It was like being a master of a skill in small town. In theory there are other people who do the same thing, who are, perhaps, even better than you, but for all practical purposes they don't exist because you never run into them.

Regardless, when Patrick presented the opportunity I decided I would try being a player. Even from the few brief sessions I played back then, the difference in perspective was immediately apparent. As a DM your perception of the game world is frequently hazy except for certain well planned details. In the best of times the world is connected seamlessly together, every element seems to have its own history and purpose, and on-the-fly ideas fall into place like they were planned all along. At its worst your world can seem slap-dash, with story ideas and facets of the world nailed together with plywood scrap while random ideas teetering precariously like a haphazard pile of junk. As a player however, so long as the elements presented to you make sense, you will have no idea how flimsy or fleshed out the ideas holding the world together are. As a DM the world and the story are a thing, constantly growing and shifting to accommodate the players. As a player the world and the story are just there, lurking in the background. For the player the real story is being made with each roll of the dice, each decision, and every action they take. Players don't usually talk about D&D like a story because as a player it is an experience. It's not, "Hey remember the arc where there was an evil wizard was threatening a town with giant lizards?", it's remembered first hand like it actually happened; "Hey, remember the time we tracked down that wizard bastard who was terrorizing a town we were hired to guard?"

I'm still a little hazy on the first session I played with Patrick. I think I played a ranger, although possibly I was playing a druid. All I remember for sure was that I had two animal companions, a hawk and a falcon. In my first battle I tried to use my hawk to distract an ogre while I made a bow attack. The ogre who happened to be wielding a small tree as a weapon responded by wiping my hawk out with a single swing, ending what was probably an all-too-short friendship. The moral of the story? If you're a woodland creature you probably shouldn't befriend my ranger. That session wasn't particularly memorable beyond that because we never played that particular campaign again, but it was significant because I realized, either due to my age and experience, or perhaps just through repetition and a knowledgeable DM, that actually playing D&D 3rd edition wasn't just theoretical. It really could be done!

The next campaign I played with Patrick as a DM was much more instructive, albeit only slightly longer-lived. I played a monk assigned to keep peace between Tim, playing a half-demon, and Brandon, playing a half-angel. Again, I'm rather hazy on the details of why or how I was expected to keep the peace between such over-powered characters but the experience was rather telling. Over the course of several sessions I began to get a feel for how Patrick liked to DM. The thing about running a game, and with D&D in particular, is that there is a lot of room to have your own personal style. No two authors tell a story in the same way, each has their own voice, their own characteristic flair that makes the story their own. You wouldn't expect Tim Burton and Quentin Tarantino to design similar worlds, even if working from the same template, and that's how DM's are too. Patrick's worlds tended towards the fantastic, even for a fantasy game. He liked his players well-armed with magical trinkets and custom abilities. His campaigns were typically generous with gold and even from a low level the stakes were high and the characters extreme. In my head I sometimes compare Patrick's games to blockbuster action movies; they are melodramas that carry you swiftly from big event to astounding discovery while making it hard to complain that the sessions aren't exciting. And then there was the combat.

Combat is a big part of D&D. It's in the title almost: (loot) Dungeons & (slay) Dragons. So how you run combat has a big impact on the flavour of a campaign. In my 4312 campaign my battles were typically a very descriptive affair. You described what you wanted to attempt and then rolled to see if it worked, often followed by a detailed description of exactly what happened and how it did or didn't fail. Then again, my 4312 game was also very free-form by comparison to 3rd edition D&D. In Patrick's case D&D 3rd's combat was a well-oiled machine that only occasionally warranted an extended description when you used a special ability or the dice decided to roll toward the extremes. Under Patrick's DM'ing combat was swift and efficient, like clockwork. Hits, misses, and damage numbers fell from his lips like a a judge's verdict. You could call Patrick's combat sequences a bit dry at times, but you could never accuse him of dragging it out. Although the most impressive thing was that he could remember most of the conditional combat rules and often the specific rules for abilities without reference. Often combat was distilled down into a series of questions designed to present those of us, unlearned in the ways of the compendium of D&D rules (now with added appendixes for fantasy building codes and regulations), to make more informed combat decisions. For the most part that wasn't necessary though. Many of the rules in 3rd edition only existed in the event that there was something specific that a player wanted to do. There were dozens of options that provided the DM with tools designed to allow for what the player intended without unbalancing the game. Over several campaigns with Patrick, however, I confirmed what I had always suspected. Most of the rules weren't necessary. 

I went on to play a half dozen (usually short) campaigns with Patrick in the years that followed, and somewhere along the way I fell out of DM'ing. All things considered it probably wasn't being a player that did it. If I had to wager a guess it was trying to cope with the responsibilities of being an actual adult, because DM'ing wasn't the only thing I fell out of around that time. That period was roughly the equivalent of life punching me in the gut, taking all of my money, and then calling me mean things as it walked away. Long story short I was in no mood to be a DM at the time, but I digress. Instead of DM'ing I spent my time as a gnome warrior who wrestled bears and assaulted forts with only my cantrips (low level spells), or on other occasions as a paladin who later discovered that he followed an absent and possibly dead god. Throughout all the sessions I always ended up thinking about how I would run things though. Ideas for settings, towns, stories, and confrontations would leap into my brain and scream out for release. It wasn't that I unsatisfied with Patrick's DM'ing, it's that once you DM and do it well it's hard to go back to being a playerSha.

Years later, that is to say now, I am convinced that whatever you start as, player or DM, is what you eventually come back to. When you are fresh and just getting into role-playing for the first time you tend to gravitate towards what suits you the most. After the first few sessions you have either fallen into the player category or you are running the sessions as a DM (or secretly plotting to steal players from the group you started in once you realize you want to DM). In my case I've been a DM from the start. And although I've learned the joys of being a player I can't turn my back on DM'ing. As a DM it is up to you to create an immersive world, but you have endless possibility at your disposal, the only limit is your imagination. You have the opportunity to bring an entire world to life, to share your ideas in an engaging way that most arts struggle to achieve. It is your job, or rather, your privilege to allow your players to share in that feeling...oh, and also try to kill them. That too. 

(The last and final part of my Dungeons and Dragons series coming soon!)

Dungeons and Dragons Part 1 - A Tangled Web of Rules

I was in middle school when it happened. I cannot recall why, but the sensation hit me suddenly. A impulse rose through my chest and bubbled over into my head, swirling about like pasta in a rolling boil. I suddenly wanted to play Dungeons and Dragons (D&D).

At that time in my life D&D was no more than a vague notion for me. I asked my father what D&D was like and his only recollections were playing with a group of college buddies and kicking a rust monster to death. That aside, my only other knowledge of the game was a faint acknowledgement that there were lingering assumptions that it was evil and that those associated with it were of irredeemably nerdy. Given that, at the time, I was knee deep in nerd culture, having developed a liking for Magic: The Gathering cards, the latter did little to keep me from investigating and my curiosity easily overwhelmed the former.

I discovered a short time later that if D&D were truly associated with devil worship that there were almost certainly more affordable ways to get involved. The first books I bought were $20 a piece, a small fortune for me at the time. I'm still uncertain as to how I managed to come into enough money to afford two of the three core books I needed at the time. 

I set about reading the first rulebook and was almost immediately overwhelmed. My first taste of D&D was 3rd edition, which to this day is still a tangled mess of rules, although I can't deny that it had a lot of flavor. The arcane texts I pored over seemed to be written in some combination of foreign language, ciphers, and a particularly sadistic form of algebra. Determined to play, however, I valiantly forged ahead trying my best to pretend I had any idea of how to play the game. I still remember the first time I sat down to play a session with my friends and slogged through roughly two hours of confusion over rules and a single encounter. That session also happened to coincide with my first attempt at DM'ing. (DM = Dungeon Master aka. the person who runs the game.) My best friend took over the DM's role on the next session and had a little better luck, but the game never quite caught on in our circle.

My first forays into D&D were not a complete loss however. I was fascinated at the concept of the game, an imaginary world in which all the actions and interactions took place soley in the minds of the players and the DM. I adapted the concept into a game which used randomly chosen Magic: The Gathering cards to determine encounters and potential resources. Somewhat surprisingly it was a hit with a few of my friends. From that was born the inspiration for a new game world, one which I played without any form of rules or equipment. It was the essence of D&D in its purest form, a game of the imagination, with only a sheet of paper to keep track of gear and items you picked up along the way.

To this day I still consider it unfortunate that D&D 3rd edition turned me off with its complex web of rules and perverse love of tables. Fast forward a few years, however, and I began to develop a taste for a little more structure. The expensive set of dice I had bought to play D&D continued to tempt me, untouched as they were for so long. Their bright contrasting numbers and geometric shapes called out for use and I obliged. In high school, on a whim, I began crafting my own role-playing game. Had Wizards of the Coast, the company that publishes the D&D books, known at the time I'm sure they would have wept bitter tears for their lost profits. I stole the dice system and the combat rules that appealed to me and mashed them into a simplistic yet effective framework for my own custom game. I didn't even have classes, you were just your character. I later named it 4312 for the year in which the game took place. It was an absurd post-apocalyptic sci-fi fantasy smashed together from all my interests and it was an instant hit. 

Looking back, my 4312 game was a modern DM's fever dream. I introduced new rules whenever they were required, there were no books for the players to point to or pages of rules to pick apart. I kept my player's character sheets when they weren't playing since I was constantly upgrading and changing things around. I was still getting a feel for how to balance weapon damage, life points (aka. hit points), and determine which stats did what. And frequently I was the only one who really understood what my items were intended for or how finer details of the rules worked. While that might sound like poor practice, and in same ways it is, it also resulted in much more experimentation and creativity from my players. It was exactly what I had always expected from D&D. 

To this day 4312 is still the longest running role-playing game I have been involved with. I played with my initial players, Tim and Brandon, all the way through High School. I even managed to involve a number of other random people along the way. That is until Patrick showed up.

Patrick seemed to appear out of nowhere one day. He befriended Brandon seemingly overnight and soon he just seemed to be hanging out with us all the time. He also happened to bring with him years of D&D 3rd edition experience. It seemed impossible that anyone could comprehend and effectively wield the living mass of rules that was 3rd edition, but somehow he managed it. Little did I known that I would be drawn again into D&D's siren call, or whatever sound a small tome's worth of technical fantasy jargon sounds like. (In my previous experience it typically sounded like a book slamming shut followed by a defeated sigh.) With Patrick offering to take the helm of a D&D campaign, however, my fate was sealed. The legwork was going to be taken care of and after so many years I couldn't help but want to give it another shot...

It's All Vague

Earlier today, as I sat outside smoking a cigar and enjoying the humid heat of a Maine summer, it occurred to me how vague the entire world is. This wasn't the first time such a thought had struck me but, especially in regards to all my thinking about the art of writing, it seemed particularly poignant.

In a world where there seem to be more and more divisions and distinctions as time goes on, perhaps the concept that everything is ultimately very vague is rather counter-intuitive. But from where I sat this afternoon, trying to cool off, sitting in a stiff metal patio chair, and gazing aimlessly about a downtown area, the world did, in fact, seem quite vague.

Running the concept through my head yet again, the idea seems very Zen. All distinctions are a concept created by our minds. Hang with me, I'm not getting get hippy or stoner on you. When you get right down to it, society is comprised entirely of written and unwritten rules that aren't, at all, immutable.

Let's take a work environment for example. We'll start with a single department at just about any facility. You have employees and you have at least one supervisor in most cases comprising a single department. Although there is nothing that actually distinguishes, in physical reality, the supervisor and the employees they still work together because of the rules of the facility and the nature of jobs/work in our society. If the employees don't do their jobs, or if the supervisor doesn't do their job, they face consequences. Why? Because of the established rules of the facility/workplace and the expectations of society. However, those rules were created from, essentially nothing. One day someone decided that things would work better if they were done in a certain way. That someone creates a rule and finds people who will follow it. Further systems spring from that construct.

That was roughly how my train of thought progressed, and I began to expand upon the idea. If the rules that make up all of our society were created, upon either a logical idea or arbitrarily, then, other than consequences imposed by other people or physical realities, anything goes. Our economy in America relies upon a system in which people are evaluated by the tasks they are able to perform. People are evaluated by their work history and their proofs of education and experience. People earn money from working jobs that are classified and categorized into various tasks and roles. What is all this for? So people can earn money and make a living. Ultimately though you don't have to do this. Working is not required to live in the literal sense. Even in the context of the modern working world you do not have to get a job. If your goal is to earn money then all you have to do is determine a task in which you can convince other people to give you money. (Although you should perhaps consider taking into account the laws and customs of your region before you attempt this.)

In practice the fact that so many people abide by the rules of society, the economy, the justice system, etc. limits your ability to ignore the existence of established rules and systems or even to introduce new ones. None of this is really surprising given a moment's thought, but the thing that really made me pause was the realization that we are all just making this shit up as we go along. If you consider the the highest tiers of skill and knowledge in all areas, leadership included, there is nothing that determines your progress forward. There is no set roadmap for what is discovered next, or how to manage a country, or earn money. Our systems as a human race rely solely on a 'whatever works' policy.

All things considered this is kind of scary. The various forms of government, countries, justice systems, scientific advancement, education, economic systems, parenting, language, hierarchies, and just about anything you can think of distills down to "Hey, that worked! What now?" To which I suppose the proper response, the driving force behind all of our achievements as a species, would be "Huh, I don't know. Fuck it, let's wing it."