Showing posts with label Fyrecon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Fyrecon. Show all posts

Saturday, November 17, 2018

Lone Wilderlands - where Shelly can finally be a fire-breathing Ankylosaurus






From sci-fi novels to a fantasy RPG? Why not?

I really liked role-playing games as a kid, but finding a group and a place and a time that worked happened only twice. Scratch that, it was only once, because my friend running the game forgot to get his books and maps out of his room before his mom shampooed the carpet. "What if I walk across the carpet? Your mom won't get mad at me," I said. I was right, but my friend knew it still wouldn't save him from the beholding gaze of his Great Mother. "Unless you have Drow elf powers, we have no game." No treasure type D&D that day.

I stumbled across Mertwig's Maze a few years later, loved it like crazy, and modified it into a solo game I played for hours. Ouch. Did I just admit to that level of introversion? Well, the concept percolated for a long time, and then started to leak out. Rather than plug said leak, I organized and edited and play tested and here you go, an open-ended fantasy adventure game. A little like choosing a hero from Catan with a bigger island. Or adding a storyline and dice to Munchkin.

I figured some less-loner-than-me types might enjoy it too, so I made sure it would work for a group. I also had a professional gamemaster take a look. Really! That's her job title. She pointed out how useful to her it would be for world-building, simplifying her job significantly. Hey, bonus!

Thanks to the print-on-demand board and card game gurus at TheGameCrafter.com, it's available right here:




Here is my ever-growing Play Tester List of Gratitude. May you all have a seat in the Halls of Mandos!

Ion
Mellie
Max
Mr. Whitato
El Corona
Cannon
Fyrecon 2018 students
JW Dalton and Irish younglings





Thursday, December 21, 2017

Nutmeg Apprentice, Yeah!



Those are the mis-heard words my kids sing to a Christmas song. It sounds like a jingle about a barista learning to spice the Polar Express hot chocolate. While dancing on the backs of the seats. I really should pen the rest of it.
But first, I have other projects.

Lone Wilderlands. I’ve always wanted a card game/tabletop RPG that can be played solo and is more portable than a book, but I’ve looked and looked and never found one. The mechanics of most RPGs don’t model physiology and psychology the way I’d like, either. So, I made my own. In the spring of 2018, I hope to have Lone Wilderlands: The Solo Sandbox RPG in a Cardbox available for purchase at TheGameCrafter.

SpaceBoots. My first young adult sci-fi is novel is complete. It’s currently on an editor’s desk at a publisher. Where exactly on that desk and under how big a pile, I don’t know. But how fun for Leo Jones and Hophnia Zimmerman! Maybe someday dozens millions hundreds of people will experience the heroes’ dual timeline misadventures in American middle schools and US Navy starships.

Fyrecon. I was recently invited to present at a three-day conference on writing and art in science fiction and fantasy. In June 2018, I’ll be teaching a workshop on Aerospace Medicine and perhaps a few other disease and pestilence things. It’s fun to dust off Mr. Dalton the high school biology teacher, and even more fun to spend time with writers.

Untitled Work in Progress. This one gets me really excited! I’m doing background reading for what I call frontier punk historical science-fiction. Did you know all the great scientists in history had bodyguards? No? They didn’t either…
So, that’s my Holiday Card to everyone: Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukah, Peaceful Solstice, Fab Festivus, Jolly Kwanzaa, and brilliant Boxing Day.
Did I forget anyone?

Oh. The nutmeg. Here it is in recipe context. Original lyrics by Isaiah, music by George Frederick Handel, and modifications by my offspring:

Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah!
For the Lord’s Nutmeg Apprentice, yeah!

But the Nutmeg Apprentice isn’t the best musical malapropism to come out of my house. According to my age 8 son, Boris Karloff describes the Grinch a little more harshly than Dr. Seuss intended:

You’re a three-decker sour crotch and toadstool sandwich.


Put that on a Holiday Card.