Torch Light

So, I was sitting here thinking about my next topic (I have several in mind) and a young man walked in and asked me if “this” was a store.

Now, I know sometimes it’s disconcerting to be in a new location and trying to get your bearings. On the other hand, I have a sign on the door that’s hard to miss and a large painted awning that also identifies the shop. I have the front windows framed in Christmas-like light strings and a big flashing red and blue Open sign. I have game posters on the walls and a large video display that displays random game-related images. Shelves ring the shop with all sorts of board games, card games, and roleplaying games.

The young man walked to the rear of the store, mumbled to himself while looking around, uttered the word “cool,” and walked out. My wife and I have a saying, based on the old ruler that restricts customers by height for qualifying to board a roller coaster ride: “You must be this smart (holding my hand at eye level) to shop here.” Sadly, some of the passersby don’t meet that criterion.

In fairness, however, he may well have been confused by the look of the shop. Nearly 50% of our precious floor space is offered as playing area for in-store gaming. The lad may have never seen a traditional game shop, with empty tables and chairs available for demonstrations, ad hoc games, and continuing campaigns. Unfortunately, shops like mine are closing regularly, never to return.

My motivation is the desire to provide a place for people to meet and play games, to try out new games, to share recommendations and gripes, and to meet other gamers with similar interests. Is this a store? Hmmm. I’m not certain.

Maybe it’s more like a clubhouse. . .

I’ve had some push-back on describing my store as a gamer’s “boutique.” Allow me to explain what I mean by that.

The concept is that my store is not intended to be a universal solution for all of your gaming needs. I do not carry anything electronic. I don’t have display space or gaming room for Warhammer 40K minis. I have a very limited selection of party games and general interest games.

It doesn’t make sense to try and compete with WalMart or Target. My unit costs are significantly higher. In addition, obvious to anyone who has visited the store, my space is very limited, about the size of a two-car garage, maybe smaller.

So, I came up with the boutique idea: selling only a subset of the thousands of games and accessories, but remaining open to my customers’ tastes and suggestions. At the beginning, I selected items that were highly rated, recommended by individuals whose judgment I trusted, or on my “must have” list. Now I usually try and ask for comments from customers about adding to my stock and filling in missing items. I have active accounts with the largest distributors, as well as several niche distributors, so I can stock nearly anything currently available.

The message is simple: just tell me what you want to see in the shop and I’ll try and get it into my stock. In only makes sense for me to sell what you want to buy.

I’ve noticed that many of the people who stop into my shop are just curious. They have no idea of what they want, but they are willing to take a quick look at what I have in stock. Others, however, see “game shop” on my sign and immediately assume I sell video games. They come in for the latest Wii game, for the latest first-person shooter, or a replacement controller.

I don’t sell video games. We have a nice store here in Pacific Beach that specializes in console games and accessories. I send them there.

Some folks come in looking for fine chess or backgammon sets. My shop is in a beach community a block from the ocean. Hardly a day goes by where I don’t see a surfer parked in front of my shop doing the towel dance and changing into or out of a wetsuit. (Sometimes, I see too much.) With few exceptions, I carry products listing for under $100. With only about 400 square feet, I just can’t afford to invest in higher-end, slower-moving stock.

What, you might be asking, do you carry? Fair question. I have all of WotC’s fourth edition Dungeons and Dragons titles. I have nearly everything Paizo has made available for Pathfinder. I stock all of the Mongoose titles for Traveller. I carry Paranoia, Star Trek, and White Wolf RPGs. You’ll find board games like Arkham Horror, Tower of Mystery, Battlestar Galactica, Talisman, Warhammer: Invasion, Descent, Horus Heresy, Starcraft, Settlers of Catan, Puerto Rico, and many others. I also carry Heroscape, as well as a few WotC and Reaper miniatures.

I’ve got dice, many-sided and many colors: metal dice, crystal dice, and exotic dice. I have dice games like Inn-Fighting, Dragon Dice, Catan Dice, To Court the King, and more. I have dice bags: small, medium, or large; plush velvet or bright and shiny metallic cloth; even custom-designed and satin-lined.

I stock card games like Race for the Galaxy, Gloom, Fluxx, Chrononauts, Munchkin, Killer Bunnies, and Court of the Medici. Of course, I also carry Magic the Gathering starter kits, booster packs, and accessories.

My personal pride: I stock may indie and small press games–I carry a bunch. You’ll find Spirit of the Century, Dogs in the Vineyard, A Penny for My Thoughts, Mortal Coil, Colonial Gothic, Trail of Cthulhu, In a Wicked Age, Fiasco, Burning Wheel, Burning Empires, Mouse Guard, and many more titles. I like indie games.

I have been able to pack quite a bit of stuff into 400 square feet and still have a couple of tables for in-store games and demos.

If that’s the kind of shop you crave, bring your list. This is the right store for you.

One of the mainstays of gaming is certainly imagination. It takes a real imaginative process to envision and hone a game from scratch (although none of us really work “from scratch” anymore). It takes imagination to run a game, and it takes imagination to be a successful player.

But how can you exercise your imagination? How can you get better at “imagining?”

For a while, many years ago, I fancied myself as a fiction writer. Science fiction and fantasy–we called it “speculative fiction” in those pretentious days–were my forté, and I insinuated myself into a group of professional writers who all took their writing quite seriously. Even though I personally never sold anything, I learned a lot about the craft of writing from those who had.

I also learned that “real life” is much stranger than anything anyone can reliably anticipate. I’ve been predicting implantable cell phones coming “in the next 5 years,” for the last 10 years. It hasn’t happened. I recall reading a story about an implantable phone back in the first edition of the Dangerous Visions anthology in 1970. From a point-of-view based on logical extrapolation, it seems reasonable, but, as I said, it hasn’t happened yet.

Instead, most of us have lived through a quiet revolution with monumental social implications in the last few years, the introduction of the always-on, Internet-in-your-pocket cellphone, linked by SMS and Twitter that keep us all connected all of the time.

I don’t recall anyone “predicting” that back in the 70’s, or even the 80’s. Yes, Gibson had good short-term vision about the coming “jacked-in” generation, but let me be more specific. I’m not discussing cyberpunk, but rather connectivity.

Today, I read an article in the New York Times (hardly an avant garde source of comment) about “flash mobs” wreaking havoc in Philadelphia. It was headlined, “Mobs are Born as Word Grows by Text Message.” Quoting, “… so-called flash mobs have taken a more aggressive and raucous turn [than the performance art groups of previous years] here as hundreds of teenagers have been converging downtown for a ritual that is part bullying, part running of the bulls: sprinting down the block, the teenagers sometimes pause to brawl with one another, assault pedestrians, or vandalize property.”

The enabling technologies here are text messaging, Twitter, and, in particular, the ubiquity of cellphones.

If you are writing a story with a dystopian slant, or building a campaign in a crumbling future, have you considered the effects of near-universal connectivity in your plans? If this is happening today, what will things be like in 20 years? Flying cars? Implanted cellphones? Well, maybe, but how will future refinements in technology affect society with regard to expressions of frustration, lack of entitlement, and random violence? Those are the specific questions I’d like you to consider.

Whether you’re a writer, a GM, or a player, answering those questions is a great exercise in building your imaginative skills.

The future happens, whether or not we choose to participate. You must, however, sharpen your awareness of now–the present–to see the seeds of tomorrow in today’s events. Ultimately, our shared reality is the foundation for imagining our future.

It’s the height of presumption for me to comment on this topic with only a very few weeks of experience under my belt, but that’s never stopped me before.

I have strong opinions about this topic, because–as a gamer myself–I know some of the ins and outs. Or at least I think I do. By and large (with notable exceptions), gamers tend to be shy. If you’re welcoming gamers to your shop, you can’t be all, “Hi, where are you from? Let me show you this. Can I validate your parking? What’s your sign?” and so on.

It’s best to give the typical gamer some breathing room and perhaps just ask, “What sort of games do you like?” That’s usually an easy question to answer and a good conversation starter. For us, there’s no shame in being a gamer.

Rule One: Give your customer space.

Let me be specific: you can’t drag the average person off the street and “sell” them games. If someone is looking for a beer, or an Internet cafe, or a clothing shop, games certainly aren’t on their radar. Additionally, I don’t sell electronic games. They just aren’t in my business plan. Electronic games (PC games, console games, online games, etc.) have a different distribution system and aren’t something I know very well. I sell board games, roleplaying games, dice, and card games. I’ve never touched an X-Box or a Playstation. I’ve never had a WoW account. Killing rats in EverQuest was as far as I got in MMOLG, or what ever the proper acronym is.

I wouldn’t be very good at selling electronic games. It’s not my niche.

Rule Two: Sell what you know.

And that’s not to say I’m an expert by any stretch. I have significant gaps in my gaming background–just like anyone else. So I ask. My shop is tiny. You can take it all in and have a few ticks left in your minute. “What am I missing? What titles should I carry that you don’t see?” More often than not, my customers will be glad to help me out and tell me exactly what I’m missing. And nine times out of ten, I take their advice.

Rule Three: Ask for customer suggestions–and listen to the answers.

Some folks come in looking for entertainment, that is, they want me to entertain them. “Is this game fun?” Or, “tell me about this one,” or, perhaps, “I need something for a 12-year-old boy.” Of course, I’ll do the best to answer the questions. I’ll usually as them something about their interests: books, comics, movies, TV shows; how many in their gaming group; the age range of the players; and so on.

“So, would you recommend this?” Really, I’ve just met you. I don’t even know what you like. If you’re buying for someone else, I certainly know less about him or her. But they want some closure. They want a guarantee. Some sort of “it’s-the-right-choice-and it’ll-be-fun” guarantee.

“Sure, from what you’ve told me. Tell you what, if it doesn’t work out, bring it back.”

“Oh, we’re just visiting from Colorado. Boulder. Do you have a shop there?”

“Sorry. Just this one.” Nope. The Gamer’s Torch is not a franchise.

“Well. . . we’ll think about it. Thanks.” No sale is sometimes better than the wrong sale.

Rule Four: Your customers are responsible for their own fun.

My shop is tiny–only about 400 square feet. But it’s not jam packed and crowded. I try and maintain a somewhat open, airy impression by only stocking items that appeal to me and/or my customers. I’d love to sell a broad selection of miniatures, but I just don’t have the space. Every game I sell, and every item I stock, can be used right there in the shop. I enjoy doing demos, and, even more, I enjoy watching groups settle in and have some serious fun with my games. Unfortunately, I don’t have the space to host a serious miniatures campaign. Perhaps some day, if we can afford a larger space. . .

Rule Five: You can’t sell everything.

We are located in one of the busiest sections in Pacific Beach, just a block from the ocean. People shuffle past all day long, some on foot, often carrying their surfboards to and from the water, many on beach cruiser bicycles, or skateboards–I’d estimate fewer than one in a hundred give our place a second glance. Some read the sign aloud as they walk past, “The Gamer’s Torch,” as if I’d never heard it spoken.

Occasionally, a young woman will look in disdainfully and then back to her cellphone as she walks by, headed for the salon on the corner. Once in a while, a person will storm into the shop and walk all the way to the rear, and then spin and walk out without a word. Inexplicably, some even seem vaguely offended, as if we were selling porn or worse. (This seems odd in a town full of bars, tattoo and piercing parlors, and quasi-legal pot dispensaries.)

Families (dad, mom, and one or two kids) walk in, the dad asks a question about an obscure piece of merchandise, and they leave, saying something about “looking it up online.” Then, after a series of frustrating encounters, I’ll have somebody walk in and just stand and stare, taking it all in. I might say, “nothing electronic,” or some other inane opener, and the response is often, “No, that’s okay. I haven’t seen a shop like this for years.” They are the ones who get it. Thankfully, they really get it.

Rule Six: Know who your customer is.

[to be continued. . .]

As I write this, Apple has just announced its new tablet, the iPad. While it’s not entirely everything everyone wanted or predicted, it’s enough, I think. Perhaps it’s more than enough.

My own predictions–and I’m no pundit–were that:

1. The tablet would be a superb multimedia player. Check–that’s for certain.
2. The tablet would focus on the education market. Well–textbooks were mentioned, but it wasn’t a focus. The jury’s still out. I still believe it will happen. I has to. Pencil this one in.
3. Jobs would announce his retirement. I still think this will happen, too–probably this year–but he didn’t even hint at it today. No check.

Will the iPad change the world? Yes, without a doubt. The iPad will make inroads in personal video, work patterns, and lifestyle issues. Vertical markets–in addition to eliminating the need for grade school children to shoulder 40 pound backpacks–will be in many areas: photography, music, art, medicine, communication, management–perhaps even retail. And the book reader will certainly give the Kindle a run for its money.

So, if the iPad is so durn attractive, where does it fall short? What’s left to add? Anything?

Quite a bit, actually. The processor is a bit underpowered for state-of-the-art video. I doubt you could plug this into a large TV and get a decent picture, but that remains to be seen. I know that I own 2 Apple TV devices that also run at 1 GHz, and the TV images are okay, but not perfect. Also, the iPad lacks a front-facing camera. Is that important? Actually, I’d say it’s essential. This device needs a Web cam so it can do video iChat. Yes, it’s really an important missing piece.

Lastly, Apple has yet to get its cloud infrastructure geared up to handle the “holy grail” of this new technology: iTunes in the Cloud. Amazon offers streaming video on demand. I have purchased some movies and TV shows that are stored on Amazon’s servers and that I can watch anytime using my Roku boxes. The Roku is a tiny, WiFi-enabled, $100 device that streams audio and video from your broadband connection. This content takes no storage on any of my systems. It all exists on Amazon’s servers in the cloud.

Everything in iTunes should be stored in the cloud and available to your iPad device as a video or audio stream. You should no longer need to download and sync your player if it’s an iPad. All those bits should live in the cloud.

Unfortunately, that was not announced.

However, let’s discuss what was announced: the iPad is a gorgeous platform for displaying PDFs, eBooks, and other textual content. My feeling is that, by at least the end of this year, if not by this summer’s Gen Con, gamers will adopt the iPad as a required accessory. Imagine carrying your entire library of rulebooks on this pound and a half tablet. With full color. Searchable. Only half an inch thick.

Add in the plethora of iPhone apps already available like dice rollers and character generators, as well as new stuff like mapping programs, virtual tabletops, and sound effects. Yep. The iPad will change our world. Big time.

So, if gamers shift en masse to PDFs and eBooks, where does that leave little gaming shops like mine?

Well, that’s the question I keep asking myself.

Any game–but especially roleplaying games–can include self-indulgent players who annoy other players in the group. This can include speaking or acting out of turn, play so deliberate that it seems the player has no idea what to do, being rude or argumentative, working against the best interests of the party, or offering unsolicited, spontaneous criticism of another player’s actions.

I spent four or five years some time back as a classroom instructor training adults in various technology topics. It was interesting to see how quickly some students in the classroom, who were well over 21, reverted to behavior most typically seen from students in high school or middle school. When placed into an old, familiar context, old habits bubbled to the surface. Certainly, it’s the same with some adult gamers.

Some players interrupt. They talk over other players, and even respond to questions ahead of the referee or game master, jumping in with the answer they feel most appropriate, but which is often self-serving. Some criticize, calling attention to another player’s mistakes or lack of understanding in an aggressive or belittling manner. Some snipe from the sidelines with cruel or sardonic comments, fading back before they can be challenged. Some ask inane questions or play out their turns with exasperatingly slow deliberation. Some come unprepared, lose track of the game’s progress, or allow themselves to become distracted, checking e-mail messages, texting, or paging aimlessly through a rulebook.

In point of fact, I contend, they are acting the same way they did as children, falling into the same patterns of play and responding with the same immaturity they did way back then. How can you deal with this?

My first suggestion is intentionally to make the offending individual the center of attention. Ask him or her quesitons: “Gnath! The Princess is in danger. What should we do?” or “Esmirelda, do you think you can pick off those guards from this distance?” Make the party’s success a personal stake for the troublemaker. Prod them, prompt them, and get their focus on the group’s success. Make it clear that everyone is depending on their decisions.

Bad behavior is generally driven by ego, so feed the fires of their ego enough to nudge them back into problem-solving mode.

Another approach you could take is to use what leadership trainer Dr. Tom Gordon calls the “I” message. “I have a problem, and that problem is you.” Of course, you have to phrase it more delicately than that:

1. Without blame, describe the person’s behavior.
2. Again without blame, describe the tangible effects.
3. Still without blame, say how you feel.

For example: “Sara, you are criticizing Roger’s decisions as the GM. When you do that, the game’s flow is interrupted and often the other players fall into bickering about the rules, too. I would feel so much better if we could just get through these encounters following Roger’s outline without arguing.”

If that doesn’t work either, then kick the offending player to the curb and get on with the game. Win or lose, the game should be fun for everyone.

Okay, sooner or later I’ve got to write this post, so I might as well get it done.

On one side, the 3.5 proponents say that WotC needlessly orphaned their community, made their investment in 3.5 materials obsolete, and is pushing everyone to the new edition for one simple reason: money. The 3.5 edition is “pure” D&D, while the new offering is watered down, gimmicked up, and hopelessly commercial.

This, while the other side slowly shakes their heads and points out the flaws in the older editions. Like grapple rules. Or, like how deadly 3.5 can be. 4e is a refinement that deserves to be at the forefront of the D&D community. It’s just better, they shout.

So, who’s right?

3.5–and previous versions of D&D–is more deadly. Grapple? I just finished a session of 4e where a character tried to grapple, but unfortunately she missed the roll. So, nothing proven there.

I’m amused when I hear players refer to D&D version 3 or 3.5 as “old school.” I had the D&D white box, Chainmail–even AH Outdoor Adventure–back in the 70’s, several years before Advanced D&D was released. That’s “old school.” 3.5 is a recent glimmer. Wanna see a contemporary version of the original D&D rules? Download this: http://www.swordsandwizardry.com/BRV5001F.pdf. The “White Box” edition. No criticism of this obvious labor of love, but these rules are pretty stark by today’s standards. If you want real “old school” D&D, though, you should start here.

Originally, D&D was an adaptation of miniatures wargaming. That’s where Chainmail came in. In addition, rules were not strictly structured (see Rule One in the download above.) Roleplaying was not emphasized nearly as strongly, and the fantasy elements of the game were not well-defined. Sessions focused on maps, marching order, and random encounters. Rests were almost always interrupted by wandering monsters, for example. The party–and particularly magic users–were fodder for goblins, orcs, gnolls, kobolds, and–of course–dragons. Did I mention undead? No, I won’t do that. . .

It’s hard to lose a character in 4e, but the differences between 4e and 3.5 are minute as compared to their differences with the original versions of Dungeons and Dragons. 4e is a bit more accessible and less deadly for the players’ characters. 3.5 is perhaps a trifle more “authentic,” whatever that means, and truer to the game’s traditions. WotC’s 4e is the current “official” version, but Paizo’s Pathfinder is an elegant continuation of the 3.5 tradition.

It’s not so terrible to have a choice.

Gamers seem to love talking about their preferences for “crunchiness” (game mechanics) or “fluff” (the game’s story, backstory, and other seemingly non-essential information). Which is paramount?

For me, the story is always seemed a bit more important than the mechanics, but I’m not typical. I understand that some players treat learning a new game as something akin to prepping for a bar examination. They take considerable pride in becoming “rules lawyers,” and in knowing the nuances of paragraph 7a, subsection 17, or some such. Fun for those folks, I guess. . .

In any event, my comment isn’t that rules should be ignored, or even that an obsession with the rules is necessarily bad. Nor am I trying to make the point that a good story justifies wholesale, ad hoc modifications to the game’s mechanics.

No, my point is that a good game, whether it’s a board game or a roleplaying game, usually benefits from a balance of storytelling and mechanics. In the best of circumstances, the game rules should help advance the story, and the story should flow inevitably from the implications of the rules. Taken together, the balance of these elements suggests a basis for an extraordinary game.

Do you agree?

How’s that for a pretentious title?

The truth is, whenever I’m writing, and whenever you’re reading, it’s only “now.” It may be the 21st century, or–in my case–2010, but it is–and can only be–”right now” for each of us.

So, what is there to say about gaming “right now?”

Let’s make a list:

1. Gaming is ritual, or, at least, most gaming has the element of ritual as a prime component.
2. Gaming is usually a shared experience. Solitary gaming is possible, of course, but it’s usually much more fun to play a game with at least one other person.
3. Gaming involves manipulating the environment in some way. Whether it’s filling out a crossword puzzle or laying down a hand of cards, gameplay is usually applied change.
4. Playing a game usually involves tools of some sort: game pieces, dice, printed rules, cards, and so on. Certainly you can play a game by saying, “Guess the number I’m thinking of,” but it’s a better game if the first player writes the number down on a slip of paper, isn’t it?”

So, how is gaming now different from gaming a hundred years ago, or a thousand years ago, for that matter? One word. . .

Technology.

Gaming now involves the use of technology to facilitate every aspect of gaming that I’ve mentioned. Games hosted on or facilitated by computers are now ubiquitous. I can recall a time before the first commercial electronic game (the arcade game, Pong) and even before the first online game, which must have been some form of Colossal Cave, a text-based adventure.

The first computers were primarily game machines: the Apple ][, the Atari 400/800 series, the TRS-80–all widely sold before the introduction of the IBM PC in the early 80’s. Yes, there were CP/M-based small computers in the late 70’s that were geared for business, but the personal computer market was always driven by gamers.

So, WoW and the other massive online games not withstanding, technology-based gaming is relatively recent, only really taking hold as we’ve entered the new century.

I play a couple of games online weekly with a group of players spread across the US and into Canada. We use an online tabletop system called kLoOge.Werks for visualizing and facilitating the game, and an online audio system called Ventrilo. Of course, it’s widely-available broadband access to the Internet that ultimately makes this possible.

We use digital recording tools to capture the screen and audio of our sessions for players who miss a session, or just for those of us with imperfect memories.

Message boards and e-mail conversations facilitate planning, strategies, and updates asynchronously when the games are not in session. Electronic documents (PDFs and Google Docs) are used for rules, maps, images, and character sheets. The progress of one of the games is tracked and published on a Web site.

Even for traditional face-to-face games, players are often signed up initially via online forums and e-mail. Game and player availability has certainly been affected by the universal quality of the Internet. You want to play a session of ShadowRun at 3AM next Tuesday? I’d bet you can find players somewhere who will be happy to join you.

So, whether you crave the immersive nature of a massive multiplayer online game, or you just want to put together and host an old school D&D campaign, technology is your friend.

Which is good, because “now” technology is unavoidable.