Hey, friends, supporters, consumers, and colleagues. this one is a little important.
I hope the best came for you in major holidays for each culture and religion or lack thereof that came before this post, and the same wishes for you in the festivities (or lack thereof!) to come. Please stay safe in the continuance of COVID-19 and the many dangers all marginalized people face, and seek joy in every moment – even if it’s fleeting, it heals more than all the rest.
That being said, this is me. Beau Sheldon.
Content warnings for discussion of mental illness, physical disability, financial insecurity, gender identity, gender dysphoria, mention of hallucinations, mention of schizoaffective disorder, mentions of political and social issues in the United States, and details of creative dysfunction.
Thoughty remains! So does Script Change. I still hope to do some interviews, as mentioned, very periodically. I want to talk more about design, and about leadership in games. I want to talk about the things I personally enjoy in games, break them down, see if I can make them make sense. I hope when the worldsuck eases I’ll release more games, though I doubt anything I do solo will be as big and fancy as Turn. I’ll be separately supporting my partners with their projects. Oh yeah, and I’ll still be accepting guest blogs here when I can build up a larger fund for paying creators!
Times do change.
My first interviews were before Thoughty – on my previous and now defunct site that I ported here with Systir Productions & 616, and on Gaming as Women with attendees of a Gamerati game day and then Judy Bauerof all people. I kicked off Thoughty and Five or So Questions in 2014 as a continuation of the original blog, but only the interviews really stuck around.
I have done over three hundred interviews on Thoughty, about 250 of those being Five or So Question interviews. I have only had a few interviews fully fail to be completed due to scheduling, and one pulled by the creator. I’ve interviewed people about not just tabletop but also card, board, and video games, plus lonely solo games, huge collections of tabletop and live action games, their artwork, their design process, their Kickstarters, and more. I have had an exceptional opportunity to pick the brains of the most brilliant designers in tabletop games, from legacy designers like Ron Edwards to genius women designers like Dr. Jessica Hammer and Meguey Baker to groundbreaking modern designers like Jay Dragon and Rae Nedjadi. Many of these people I have grown to consider friends and colleagues, and I’m so grateful for the amazing things I’ve learned from them and shared with you.
I have been supported by my Patreon supporters primarily for these interviews, enough funds to pay for my website and a bill every so often, some busy months enough to help me pay medical expenses. I am incredibly grateful for my supporters, for everyone who has shared an interview, recommended a creator to reach out to, or praised my interviews, regardless of whether they supported me financially!
You may ask, if this is so great, why does the title say you’re ending interviews? What does this mean for Thoughty? Why has the site been so slow recently, anyway? Well, that’s what I’m gonna try to answer here. This is… a bit long. I’m still me, you know.
I wanted to let you know that there are some changes happening here at Thoughty, changes that I hope will be temporary. As you may know, I’ve been running Thoughty in some form for about eight years, more intensely for the last six. It can often seem like a slow, easy job, but there’s a lot more work behind the scenes doing stuff like juggling interviews and researching games and constantly researching game community and culture. But.. your nonbinary boy here is pretty wiped out.
The last two years of Thoughty have been wracked with stress over some of the major crises in games, as I have been personally affected by some bad shit that happened, especially with the effect on my mental health. Plus, trying to arrange interviews has become even more challenging – as I try more and more to interview marginalized creators, I have to deal with the fact that those interviews are more likely to take twice or three times as long, get dropped, or need to be rescheduled because marginalized creators are super overloaded. This makes it harder to keep things on schedule, and it also can be pretty exhausting constantly chasing people down and feeling like I’m just bugging people for interviews when they obviously have better things to do. It’s hard on me as an interviewer. And man, Zine Quest 2 was rough…
I also know that I have been slower in my responses. Since my accident in 2017, keeping up with written communication is harder, especially if it’s combined with stress, and I have been struggling with my own mental and physical health. This means that I have several reviews I’ve just put aside because reviews involve a lot of reading (which is very hard since my head injury), I have not been able to seek out interviews as much and have had to rely more on requests for interviews (which have been pretty great!), and I have not created a lot of additional content that I wanted to.
While I love interviewing, I also have felt kind of… icky about the fact that so much of my interviewing is strictly driven by Kickstarters and capitalism. The Kickstarters can be stressful for timing if the interview goes slow, but the bigger part is that sometimes I struggle with supporting Kickstarter and organizations like it when they’re doing things like trying to prevent union formation in their company. And even though I do love itchio, it’s still just about selling things – there’s a lot of pressure to be successful financially in the industry, and I feel it too. I feel strange sometimes being personally opposed to making our work be about its financial value, then framing interviews as focused on how to buy things – but it would be unfair to interviewees not to highlight their work and try to get people to invest in them!
All of these various things have made me worry – maybe I’m just no longer fit to run Thoughty, maybe I need to find a new person to run it, maybe it needs to shut down. It’s possible some of these are true. I am not ready to make those decisions though!
I have a couple more interviews to release, but aside from the occasional interview through the requests and my own movement to feature more Black creators, I’m currently planning to back off of doing timely project interviews as my primary purpose for the blog, and suspending reviews. I want to talk more about game theory and my own game work, plus my experiences playing games and how they influence my thoughts on design. This should be temporary, because I do actually rely on the funds from Thoughty and I do not expect people to stick around for my ruminations – I know the primary interest is promoting people in the community and making people aware of Kickstarters that are currently happening.
However, I am hoping it will give me a break and allow me some time to recover from the stress of interviews that have felt like a strain for all involved. I want there to be enthusiasm, and more timeliness, when I return to asking people questions about their projects! One permanent change is Friday Hi-Day is obviously dead – the response was virtually nonexistent and that was emotionally draining. It’ll be archived and maybe someday something better will exist in its place.
Thank you all for understanding! I hope you’ll stick with me through this, and understand that this is the only way I can think of to address the burnout I’m experiencing. If you go, please check in someday to see when the typical content has returned!
Hey all! Today I’ve got five or so questions with Michael Bacon about the game Dangerous Times, which is currently on Kickstarter! Hope that you like hearing about this game of journalism in the 1920s!
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Tell me about Dangerous Times. What excites you about it?
Dangerous Times is a small role-playing game for two or
more players, published in zine form, with a focus on storytelling. It’s about
reporters who risk their lives to expose corruption, crime and injustice, all
in a version of 1920’s New York that’s just learned stage magic is real. So now
magic is everywhere: children play with fire and levitation in the streets,
wall street moguls consult soothsayers before making investments, crooks turn
hypnotism and escape-artistry to devious purposes… and of course those who
seek power are messing with things best left alone.
One of the aspects I’m most excited about is the history
involved.
New York of the jazz age is a surprisingly modern time.
Broadway is decorated with neon lights, cars fill the streets and the subway
rumbles below. There’s even a budding intercontinental network of wires and
radio waves used to share photographs and news around the world.
It’s not just the technology that makes the twenties
modern, though: so many familiar social issues are present and cultural shifts
are happening, often in ways that resonate with the current time.
I’d love it if players were able to engage with all this history, and find ways to incorporate it into their play. I’ve tried to encourage that in the design. So even though the problems they bump into involve the supernatural, I’ve attempted to make those plotlines echo historic reality. It turned out to be… not easy (I’m still not sure I’ve got it right), but at least surprisingly straight-forward. This makes sense, though, because this is the culture that produced so many of those genre-defining fantasy, horror and mystery stories; they couldn’t help but bring reality into the fantastical.
The 1920s were a complex time in New York! I know that many Black Americans and queer people were among those living in the city. What kind of research are you doing to ensure that you have appropriate representation of the history and the people of the era?
I’m glad you brought this up, because how people treated
each other during this era has been a major focal point of my research.
I’ve been lucky enough to lean on the work of historians
who’ve spent their entire careers studying aspects of this, exploring how
specific conceptions of race, gender, sexuality and nationality influenced and
were influenced by society at large. There’s even a page at the end of the zine
dedicated to resources and references, so that players interested in learning
more can know where to start.
Going into this I’d only known the broadest shapes of the
era, and I was very excited to learn about ways society seemed to be expressing
interest in diversity— this romantic idea that New Yorkers at large were going
out to speakeasies, immigrant neighborhoods, jazz clubs, queer dances, and
encountering all sorts of other lifestyles and backgrounds— but when I started
doing the reading it turns out that these interactions served to reify existing
hierarchies as much as they transgressed against them.
And then the years rush ahead through the Great
Depression, WWII, and McCarthyism, all of which exacerbate expressions of
social backlash and undermine tentative steps made towards civil progress.
All this is to say that the past is a different place,
not a kinder one.
I have, however, made a serious effort to research and represent all the people living in the city, not just the ones in most easy reach. What this directly translates to is mention and often discussion of things like the black press, targeted enforcement of new immigration laws, police raids on cross-racial or queer dances, and so forth throughout the zine… though it’s difficult to fit all the nuance required within just 40 pages, especially when those pages also have to convey the core game mechanics and process of play.
One thing that drove me to set the game in the 1920s was
this article talking about Harlem’s Hamilton Lodge Ball, where hundred of queer
men and women annually danced in joyful defiance of prevailing gender and
sexual norms. These events became a sensation, with thousands from all over the
city showing up to observe and sometimes take part; notables in attendance
include Nora Holt and Wallace Thurman, even the Vanderbilts and Astors. The
newspapers at the time treat this with a range between shock and fascination,
but I can’t help but smile when I picture it— twirling on the dance floor,
fancy suits and gowns, and people from all over the city celebrating.
I’ve tried to make the game as much about players
encountering and protecting this positive parts of life in the city, as it is
about mystery, magic, and the dangers that are encroaching.
What kind of mechanics do you use in Dangerous Time for things like investigation, violence, and other things that might come up?
This is actually the area that’s seeing the most change, as I continue to playtest and refine what I’ve developed.
The setting and the mechanics are meant to reinforce
each-other, but I’ve also tried to keep them out of the way of the real point,
which is telling stories. So there’s some simple outcome randomization using
six-sided die, but there’s also a mechanic in place that lets players spend
this resource— credibility— to ignore the dice.
So for example this lets me keep reporters very squishy,
only distinguishing between “healthy”, “injured”, and “dead”, because the
transition between these states is almost always intentional.
The idea is that reporters sometimes exaggerate how
dramatic a situation is for the sake of selling more papers, so when you spend
credibility to succeed at something it actually means somebody, somewhere in
this article that your building, was lying.
And of course credibility is important when figuring out
the outcome of an adventure, because you might survive the big encounter only
to find nobody believes what you’re printing, and then the world gets worse
instead of better. Maybe dying for your ideals was the smarter choice.
Then there’s the investigation, which is where I’ve been
doing a lot of iteration lately. I’ve been toying with different ways to have
players encounter and build stories, but one piece I think I’ve finally got
down is the start of everything— the staff meeting.
The latest version has the editor (the player who runs
the game) stating a fact about the world and then questioning the other players
about it.
So you open the meeting with “Rats and pigeons have been
dying”, “Strange sounds drift through the air”, “Discarded bits of clothing
keep turning up” and then start asking questions. Why are the rats dying?
Where are they finding the clothing? When are the sounds
being heard?
Who told you about this? What does this other group say
about it? Make it weirder! Do they contradict each-other?
These become the rumors players investigate, and with a little bit of work by the editor they get incorporated into and reshape the various archetypal plots written in the zine.
What are the kinds of experiences and actions players can have in Dangerous Times? What do they do, and what do they feel?
Mechanically and thematically, Dangerous Times is a game
about determining truth, and working out how a bunch of truths all fit together
into a narrative.
Players start the game by generating rumors and leads,
then tell stories about how their reporters follow up on those leads. Dice
rolling is used to give guidance during this process, letting players know when
a scene should provide answers or raise more questions. They also make
decisions about who pursues what leads, when to use magic or break laws during
the investigation, when to split up and investigate more leads, or to focus on
one lead together, reducing danger and increasing the chance it’ll pan out.
All the while players are accruing trouble, which
eventually comes calling, and they’ll use their dice, skills, and other
resources to get out of it— or they go out in a blaze of glory, getting one
last epic moment before they fall.
Finally publication starts, and players have to take all
these facts and rumors and fit them together into articles, coming up with
witty headlines for bonus points. The paper’s credibility, circulation, and
debts come together to influence decisions about what gets printed, and then
the impacts of the publication on the world and the newspaper’s future are
discussed.
Ideally players start out with interest and confusion,
and as the story progresses they get that slow, awesome sense of the facts
coming together. They feel pressure brewing as trouble builds up, and they make
decisions about which risks are worth taking. When the trouble finally happens,
they feel excitement and danger, but also in control— players are the ultimate
arbiter over their character’s fate, and they’ll have to weigh when sacrifices
are worthwhile. During publication they get to look back on the adventure,
recapping all those feelings mixed together with hope, satisfaction, or regret.
Finally, in a game called Dangerous Times, I have to wonder, how do you plan to encourage safe and respectful play at the table?
The way tabletop gamers have thought critically on player
safety, developing tools and methods to encourage everyone has a good time, is
one of the things I like best about this hobby. Coming from video games, where
the discussion really isn’t there yet, it’s like a breath of fresh air. So of
course I’m happy to reference things like Lines & Veils and the X-card, so
players new to the hobby or unfamiliar with these concepts can play with a
safety net.
As to the design itself, well. Dangerous Times opens with
a staff meeting, and there’s a note in the zine about using starting that off
with a quick conversation about the things players do and don’t want to see.
It’s my hope that this becomes a natural place to establish boundaries, proffer
ideas, and flavor the tone of upcoming play. If someone mentions they find
baseball boring but love ghost stories, the group can keep that in mind as they
start building rumors and playing the game. With luck this normalizes the times
when people need to draw boundaries, whether that’s to avoid deep-seated trauma
or just because they’ve had a shitty day.
Addressing the other part of your question, one of the
things I’ve been very careful with the plotlines inside the booklet is to keep
them (hopefully, respectfully) adjacent to reality— players encounter history
and fix fantasy. So there’s no rushing in and suddenly solving real-world
injustices that persist into the present, at least in the booklet as written. I
think it’s fine if players want to play that way, but it’s not the game I
wanted to write. Instead I’ve provided supernatural and imaginary plots, noted
parallels to real history, and tasked editors with “making the real
unreal”— drawing inspiration from the real world, but making it into
something everyone can feel comfortable playing with.
I’d be happy if the experience of playing can be informative and challenging, but first and foremost it has to be enjoyable. It’s my hope that the game can support both hard-hitting encounters with history as well as light-hearted escapism. Groups can and should play at their own comfort levels— the twenties were a terrible, dangerous time, but also one that could have promised a better future. If nothing else, playing in that space should be fun.