25 posts from 2007

I think I figured out the big stumbling block that was stopping Glass and Steel. I'm having mechanical problems because I'm trying too hard to tie a system to this particular storyline. Actually, the Glass and Steel storyline would work much better as a campaign or "module" to be attached to a more general system (in which the constants are a repeating scenario playing out until a goal condition is met.) Although I might not choose to explicitly place the story in a modular context, designing the mechanic as such would probably be the best idea nonetheless. I still get into some of the same problems of goal and mechanical motivation/reward, but this perspective might present some better solutions.

I think I might just cobble it all together into a play-testable format, regardless of flaws, and see how it works, then go from there.

And, in a further attempt to burn through my First Eleven Games that are Likely to Suck... I think I might have another idea worth committing to paper. It's a bit of a cliche concept, but then again, sometimes a simple concept has more potential.

Universal Remote

It's the old standard: Television characters transported to stories that are not their own. (Also embodied in the "zapped myself into the TV" genre.) Players play archetypically-centered television characters from a variety of stories, trying to blindly achieve their own "scripts" and return to their channel. All players have a stated goal, usually tied to their role in their original story, and points are awarded toward progress achieved to that goal.

In every "channel" is hidden the Universal Remote, a device that changes the channel and swaps the setting. An optional endgame is that once the players achieve a certain level of Goal points (or possibly spent Aura, see below), finding the Remote will take them back to their original story, permanently.

Another interesting aspect is Aura (name pending). When players play to their roles very well, they can gain Aura points. By burning Aura, they can shape the current setting to become more like the story they are used to (although they cannot control the manifestation of this effect.) In essence, their powerful role "bleeds" their story onto the current one.

The game is meant to be light, absurd, and humorous, with an amorphous storyline and improbable, overblown situations.

A note to developing photographers: before you go out on that midwinter walk to take photos of whatever meets you, BE SURE TO CHECK ALL SETTINGS BEFORE YOU GO! I got back to find that it was set on a high ISO, and my photos were grainy as hell, grumble grumble. Still, I did manage to get one good photo from it...

Just bought an IR filter off Ebay yesterday. Oooooh. Trippy white-tree photos, here I come!

I need to get out with the camera. Photo tour, sometime?

Geeking out, hitting a bit of a question mark. I don't want to throw this out to the heavy-hitters at indie-rpgs.com yet-- it's not that wrapped up yet. I'd like an opinion if you've got one--

The latest incarnation, called The System. The pitch is: A blend between D&D, Brazil, Idiocracy, and the Vogons from the movie version of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.

I've written up an intro, something to get the players into the story, as well as some notes about what the game's about and what I'm thinking.

Have a look! -- This is my ongoing "Notes" file.

I'm hitting a bit of a wall, but instead of the wall of "This isn't working", it's more one of "This is going to be a lot of work", which I suppose is a good wall to hit. Really, I'm looking for feedback on a few major points: 1.) Does the intro "read"? Is it compelling? Does it relay the story adequately and engagingly? 2.) Does it seem "playable"? Does it appear to have the latitude to support campaigns, and does it seem to be something you'd like playing?

I think one thing I need to reflect more in the notes, which I'll do later (too late now), is introduce some how-to-play-your-character notes that define more of what these people are like. I'd like to see them played as a direct reflection of their environment. Like in Idiocracy, the environment has shaped these people so much that instead of seeing their dismal surroundings as oppressive, they've simply evolved to take feeble-minded joy from astoundingly simple pleasures. Likewise, anything outside of their ordinary life causes them disproportionate fear and anxiety (represented by "fear points", a stat on a par with physical hitpoints). The bar for "bravery" is low. The PCs are only able to persevere because they've been infused by their special quest.

(A side point to this: Every oppressive society needs their police force. I'm planning on having security guards scattered throughout who, due to the general populous' cowedness, are dumb, inept, and nothing more than surprised when people go against their demands.)

More whittling down the story... I think I like how this is going. More meat, less fluff.

Like a chill splash of water hitting you in the face, you snap awake from the world that you've been in as long as you can remember.

There is a paper in your hand. Many papers have passed through your hands for as long as you remember, but this one is terrifying. Every other paper that has crossed your desk has been a normal white piece of paper-- Form 28192-EDFE-64iii/198: Request for Clarification Regarding Deadlines Pertaining to Filing Form 28190.28173-GNS-2918iv. Ever since the day you proudly graduated into adulthood, you have been here. You press your stamp on the familiar line labelled Authorization, scratch a checkmark in the familiar square labelled Pending Supervisory Approval, and place the sheet squarely on the stack of similar forms. After a few hours the stack of completed paperwork is taken away, and a new one is left. Always enough, never too much.

On the desk, however, sits a terrifyingly cream-yellow form entitled Form 8841-C: Request for Employee Vacation. Absent of mind, you must have placed that check in the box marked Full Time Employee, Salaried, and your stamp fell squarely above the line labelled Requesting Employee, and you realized it, but it's too late, and you're frightened and scared and alone you're the only one here and...

Here?

Office (Your Office)

You've been sitting in this room for 15 years, but the dense gloom of the place has never really struck you like it does now.

The buzzing of the yellowed flourescents lights a somehow suddenly sad scene.

In the center of the room sits your wooden hulk of a desk, with drawers containing everything you will ever need. On the desk is a pile of safe, ordinary forms and a clunky black telephone, lacking a dial, which hasn't rang in years.

To the right of the desk, on the floor sits a darkened mainframe terminal-- nothing your job requires. Against one wall are two filing cabinets, which may never have been opened in your tenure, and an Inter/FAX machine, a screeching monstrosity that has long since ceased to spit up papers with numbers on them.

Directly ahead of you, on the north wall of the room, is a simple wooden door. You think it's the one you sometimes use to go to REST ROOM.

You sit in your chair, which is now noticably uncomfortable.

> read form

(Form 8821-C)

(You force yourself to look at the strangely-colored paper. Slowly, your eyes focus and your skills from Forms Reading classes as a child trickle back to you. This isn't so bad.)

FORM 8821-C: Request for Employee Vacation

All requests for employee vacation must be approved by the Human Resources Division. Requests may be sent by Inter/FAX transmission to (251)2924-2012, by personal delivery to the Employee Incentives Division Reception Area, Room 251001, or by interoffice mail to: Human Resources, Attn: Employee Incentives Division, Box 18, Room 251013, 251st Floor. Pursuant to Policy Bulletin 29120-JJ-2019-xvi Amended (2), Form 8821-C may not be transmitted by Inter/COMP electronic bulletin, as a signature is required.

Please allow at least two (2) business weeks for the scheduling process. All vacation should be planned at least one (1) month in advance, so that proper scheduling arrangements may be made.

 [K.M. BARRETT]
_________________________
Employee Name

______________
Date

Employee Status
[X] Full-time, Salaried
[ ] Full-time, Hourly
[ ] Part Time, Fixed
[ ] Part Time, Consultancy

Please list all dates or ranges of dates you wish to request. Note that requests are granted only after available time verification, scheduling feasibility verification, and departmental approval.
________ to ________
________ to ________
________ to ________
________ to ________

> fill out form

You don't know the date.

> pick up phone

You hear a mechanical buzz then silence. Another buzz, interrupted by click. You hear the crackling voice of a young woman's singsong babble:

"Hello, hello, innnnn-formation-two-three-one-oh-six-nine hello hello can-you-hear-me is there someone out there an-ny one out there tell me can you help me get me OUT of this god-forsaken place that I..."

She continues into piercing shrieks and loud thumps then with a click, the connection is dropped.

> pick up phone

Nothing but the mechanical buzz.

> get up

You are now standing.

> look in file cabinet

The cabinet opens with a rusty squeal. Inside is a small manila folder, which is closed.

> open folder

(Taken)

The folder contains a certificate and a small photograph.

> read certificate

Let it be known that KONICA M. BARRETT has completed all prerequisites and all filing procedures, and is this day awarded the title of GRADUATE from the Greater 192nd Floor Municipal Preparatory School, among the School of Request Approval, with all rights and responsibilities therein.

> look at photo

It is a photo of you, wearing the traditional graduation mortarboard cap. One of your old classmates, whose name sadly escapes you, hangs over your shoulder.

> n

Corridor (231051-231052)

Directly to the north is a door, with a sign labelled "REST ROOM." To the south is your office, room number 231051. To the east and west are far-off places you've never been.

> n

REST ROOM

There is a toilet here, and a sink to wash up. You shouldn't spend long in here, though. You normally have to get back to work. Sometimes you hear noises, timid thuds on the door. There are other people out there sometimes, but you can't let them in. There are paper towels here. To the south is the door.

> s

Corridor (231055-231056)

You walk a bit further. There are doors to the north and south, and the hallway continues to the east and west.

> e

Corridor (231059-231060)

You continue onward. There are doors to the north and south, and the hallway continues to the east and west.

> e

Corridor (Information Window)

The corridor ends at an a large window with a small ledge set into the east wall. The sign above the window reads "Information". (Information. Similar to Clarification.) Angry spatters of dried blue ink cover the inside of the thick glass.

On the ground is a bell.

> take bell

Taken.

> ring bell

You hear the most beautiful clarion "ting" that even the dead hallway cannot dampen. From behind the glass, you hear a rushing series of thuds, and a crazed scream. Through the crusted blue ink, you see the form of a young woman, just a bit older than school-age, throw herself at the window. Her head collides with a shocking bang, shuddering the glass. She collapses below the window, and pulls herself up to the window, gasping.

"There's nobody here you've got to help me, I've been here for months and there's nobody here, just nobody, and I can't get out and I don't know what to do. The phone doesn't work, I can't call information because I AM information and I don't have any information I don't know I just don't know and can you get me out of here oh pleas..."

She stops in mid-sentence and jolts to a perk. "Information, 231st floor west, Approvals Pending Division. What can I do for you?"

Methinks the end of the world is about to fall... dramatically, even. There's a storm moving in from the Northeast (which never happens, and the light outside just turned an eerie shade of brownish-green. All that, and off in the distance, the tinkle of an ice cream truck.

Told you it would suck. Far too top-heavy. I think I need to start it mundanely, and slowly introduce the fantastic elements as the story winds on... you know, like a well-written story would.

Here's another try:

Form 8841-C
An Interactive Fiction by Rudy Fleminger
Release 1 / Serial number 070717 / Inform 7 build 4U65 (I6/v6.31 lib 6/11N) SD

You jolt awake into a dingy little office, holding a strangely pale-yellow piece of paper with your wet stamp upon it.

> look at paper

A wave of fear washes over you as you look down. Something is very terribly wrong.

For the last 23 years, without fail, you have quietly and satisfactorily performed your duties-- stamping the line marked Authorization with the red stamp on the right front of the desk and checking the box marked Pending Approval from Clerical Supervisor with the black ballpoint pen from one of the supplied standard ballpoints from the cup there, also on the right-front on the desk, on one of an endless stack of white forms entitled Form 28192-EDFE-64iii/198: Request for Clarification Regarding Deadlines Pertaining to Filing Form 28190.28173-GNS-2918iv In a Timely Fashion. You would then put that particular copy, one of many but serially numbered, of Form 28192-EDFE-64iii/198: Request for Clarification Regarding Deadlines Pertaining to Filing Form 28190.28173-GNS-2918iv In a Timely Fashion into an organized stack of the same on the left front corner of your desk.

In your hand, however, is a pale yellow form, plainly marked Form 8841-C: Request for Vacation, and you have quite clearly stamped the line marked Requesting Employee and checked the box marked Full-Time Employee (Salaried). You close your eyes for a moment and hope... then open them. No. There is still no stack of Forms 8841-C: Request for Vacation awaiting this one.

It's 9:01 according to the clock on the wall. Ted From Upstairs won't be in to take the stack of Forms 28192-EDFE-64iii/198 for hours. Nobody's going to be at Vending or Rest Room, and you've long since forgotten the telephone extensions of... anyone. Now there's this strange form that needs to be filed somewhere but you...

Stop. Get a hold of yourself. There's no need to panic. Think back on your training. There should be an employee handbook-- 91 dash something-- in the middle drawer of your desk.

> look at paper

Form 8841-C: Request for Vacation stares boldly menacingly at you.

> look

Office (in the desk chair)
This has been your home for 27 years, ever since the day you proudly graduated from Departmental School. You've never really stopped to look at it before, though, and now that you do, it's rather disheartening.

You'd never noticed the feeble yellow buzzing fluorescents or the gloomy pall they cast upon the room. The sparseness of the sagging wood-panel walls. The ragged gray carpet.

To the north of you is the door. It's always led to VENDING and REST ROOM.

Your heavy wooden desk sits precisely in the center of the room, flanked by neat stacks of forms stamped or awaiting stamping to either side. On the desk are: a black telephone, your self-inking signature stamp, and a ballpoint pen.

In the corner of the room is your CENTRAL TELEFAX machine, a loud and angry device through which the outside world sometimes intrudes.

> open desk

In the desk drawer is a copy of Manual 91A-19203-APD: Employee Handbook, Approvals Pending Division.

> read handbook

(Taken)

Your heart sinks when you look at the cover. This edition of the Handbook expired five years ago.

> open handbook

Why bother?

> Get up

I'm really liking the idea of portraying the player (and most of the NPCs) as people who have literally never, in their lives, left the office. People so entrenched in rules and standards that a misrouted form is an epiphany and an out-of-date manual is obviously useless. The outside world only consists of the bathroom and the vending machines-- the only two things necessary to life. These people, as a whole, are mentally and emotionally stunted from a long-gone lack of humanity.

I imagine this might suck, as it's the first draft, but here goes--

This was once a world filled with powerful magic. You've heard stories about the mischevious penny-spells of the town magicians, about the Enchanted Folk, and of the mysterious powers once kept under deep lock and key by arcane clans of sorcerers.

Progress began as a convenience. As ancient scrolls and sorcerers alike began to decay and lose their incantations, there was a push to codify, to sort, to file and to categorize. Ancient scrolls became folios in vast filing systems. Files, of course, had to be cross-checked and referenced, validated and signed in triplicate. There formed a vast Ministry of Magic. Great wizards gave way to bored bureacrats and seas of secretaries. The bureaucracy grew with every passing year.

However, after a few generations, the bureaucracy had grown so thick and many-layered, that not one hypercompartmentalized staffer inside the walls of the Bureau of Rotes (which it had becomed named) could find or even attest to what exactly they were shuffling paperwork for.

The grand spires of the Ministry of Magic building, and the last of this world's lost power, now lie choked in a lost and forgotten corner of the gigantic black building-town of Government Building Number 1. Entire generations of file clerks have lived and died without ever seeing the outside of its walls.

But where does that leave you?

You awaken in an office, holding a piece of paper with a stamp of wet ink on it.

> look at paper

A twinge of panic hits you. Something is terribly wrong.

For the last 17 years, you have quietly performed your duties-- stamping the line marked Authorization with the red stamp on the right front of the desk and checking the box marked Pending Approval from Clerical Supervisor with the black ballpoint pen on in the cup on the desk, always on a white paper labelled Form 28192-EDFE-64iii/198: Request for Clarification Regarding Deadlines Pertaining to Filing Form 28190.28173-GNS-2918iv In a Timely Fashion from the never-too-large stack on the left side of your desk. You would then put that particular copy of Form 28192-EDFE-64iii/198: Request for Clarification Regarding Deadlines Pertaining to Filing Form 28190.28173-GNS-2918iv In a Timely Fashion in the not-too-large stack off the right side of your desk. This is how you perform your job.

This, however, is quite clearly a pale yellow form marked Form 8821-C: Request for Vacation. You have quite clearly -- absent-mindedly, no doubt, stamped the line marked Requesting Employee and checked the box marked Full-Time Employee (Salaried).

I'd go on, but it's hellishly late, and Nicole's already bugged that I'm in the next room barfing this all on paper... err... screen and not in sleeping.