What is THE VIOLET SANCTION, both as a product and as your vision?
i’m working on a zinequest game for kickstarter called THE VIOLET SANCTION, a cooperative urban fantasy adventure that takes place in seattle’s capitol hill neighborhood. it’s one of the epicenters of queer culture in the area, and it also happens to be my home. as a product, the game is a multiplayer choose-your-own-story style gamebook, divided into episodes. episodes, which are named after streets in the neighborhood, are non-linear, crossing paths with each other frequently, leading to a grand finale in the epilogue.
the game eschews dice, leveling, experience points, and most combat (there are social encounters, certainly). as a vision, THE VIOLET SANCTION is my first art project in a very long time, after years of processing life’s many traumas. a mid-life crisis, transitioning to nonbinary, escaping a job that was devouring me; this game is more than just a reincarnation of my artistic spirit, it is a manifesto for social change, for art, for evolution. i’m new to this whole process, but i’m hopeful in ways i haven’t been in ages.
This sounds like such a fascinating project! How do you handle resolution of any conflict or social encounters in lieu of dice?
the gamebooks express the setting and obstacles similarly to
an adventure game, with a lot of the puzzles requiring specific actions at the
right places. this can include dialogue choices, magic being cast, classic
inventory puzzles, etc., but the charm of the system really comes from the
cards. every character has their own customized deck, which are written on,
manipulated, and sometime removed. a various points, the game queries cards in
hand or on the table, then directs you to the next scene accordingly.
my favorite example is the 9 of hearts, which signifies the
9 lives of the cat-human shapeshifter class. as they “lose” lives,
pips are shaded in or crossed out. rumor has it that cats on their last life
share a drink at a speakeasy hidden down a dark alley…
other scenes are resolved by playing cards from your hand to
determine outcomes, and one character class can even trade cards with other
players. however, cards are never randomly drawn, instead it’s a strategy
puzzle of figuring out what goes where and how.
As a nonbinary person, I’m always curious how other nonbinary people’s identity has influenced their design. How do you feel your transition to nonbinary identity has influenced the design and flavor of THE VIOLET SANCTION?
being nonbinary absolutely affects my writing and design. the game is largely de-gendered, with the exception of a few specific characters, like death herself, which was chosen intentionally. using THE VIOLET SANCTION as a platform for dismantling the gender binary and helping to solidify new language was incredibly important to the overall design. identifying as queer in general impacts the type of subjects i choose to tackle.
all art is politics, and education, and i think visibility for the queer spectrum is vital to our future. i spent my entire adolescence being told that my sexuality shouldn’t define me, that it was only a part of who i was, but then was simultaneously told i was a very small percentage of the population. as i’ve grown older and wiser, i meet people like me everywhere i go. i want the next generation to hear these stories and be able to do better for themselves.
What is The Watching Book, both as a product and as your vision?
The
Watching Book is a diegetic setting zine told as the journal of oracles. It
presents the religion, culture, and rituals of a fictional people through the
eyes of the women who guide them. Accompanying the zine is a short paperless,
gm-less rpg. In this, players take on the roll of children to enjoy a game of
mystery-solving and oral storytelling. Both the game and the zine are in-world
artifacts that can be used to enhance a campaign setting or be given directly
to players as found items during a game.
This zine is the second foray into the world of Soothsayer, my boardgame from 2019. The project started as a gift for my wife, and consequently the world is built around centering the lives and accomplishments of lgbt characters. By using different viewpoint characters throughout, I also get the chance to examine the ways in which the same ritual can take on different meaning to different people, even within the same group. I really wanted the world built by these games to explore real faith in fantasy by leaving some questions unanswered.
This sounds very cool! What are some of the ways you set boundaries and encourage creativity, either mechanically or otherwise, for players in The Watching Book?
The
Watching Book is more of a setting than a game in and of itself. But carrying
through from Soothsayer one of my design goals was to make sure to avoid
encouraging a “dark” look at the world. The problems faced within the
text are natural disasters, disagreements, or mysteries rather than acts of
intentional violence or hate. I primed the world to be not a utopia, but a
relatively peaceable sort of place where brutal content is very clearly
out of place and inappropriate. There are a lot of games and settings where
those topics can be explored, but this is not one of them.
As for
creativity, I stay away from explicitly answering any of the religious and
spiritual questions that exist about the world. Are the spirits actually real?
Are they real, but different than how most people interpret them? Readers and
players in the setting have room to develop their own opinions and explore
beliefs without being handed a yes or no answer within the text.
It’s lovely that this was inspired by your wife. In what other ways than the people is The Watching Book a queer game and product?
I made
sure that at every step of the way I tried to include people of different
outlooks and communities. Ezra, the artist, describes themself as a Queer
Jewitch Farmer. That’s a material way I’m using my work to give back; hiring
other LGBT people to work with me.
Additionally
I am happy to adopt a policy that’s gaining traction in the ttrpg community; as
part of the campaign I have included Community Copies of the zine. These are
donated copies from generous people that are available to anyone, no questions
asked. In this way I can make my zine a little more accessible to those having
a hard time.
What is Thistle and Hearth, both as a product and as your vision?
Thistle and Hearth is a game of belonging outside belonging that combines a dark fairytale aesthetic with the experience of growing up as a Lutheran in Minnesota. Inconvenient spirits, punishing winter, and mercurial fae challenge the community. True Names, vows, and acts of creation bring them comfort.
To be honest, the idea for Thistle and Hearth literally came to me in a dream. It was some sort of high-action romp, but the things that stuck with me were the aesthetic notes of deep forest, deep winter, and elk riders. These aesthetic notes weren’t really enough to turn into a game until I shared them with my co-designer, Natalie (@rpgnatalie). The most exciting thing about designing this game has to do with genre – a thing I love playing with in games and game design.
To me, a lot of the indie game space for the past decade has been in pursuit of genre. Apocalypse World gave an approachable toolkit for replicating specific fictional genres in games, leading to countless hacks. Dream Askew//Dream Apart followed a number of years later, using similar tools to subvert existing genres, rather than just replicating them. What Natalie and I have done with Thistle and Hearth is create a genre that exists nowhere else by making playbooks and motifs that assume archetypes for this genre-that-doesn’t-exist. People expect playbooks to rely on tropes, but we’ve created playbooks without the tropes, and it turns out that creates a really unique play experience.
A Thistlefolk by Mahar Mangahas.
It sounds like you’re bringing forward a very specific experience. How does the life of a Lutheran in Minnesota connect to dark fairytale aesthetic, and what are some examples of how players will experience this?
So the game is influenced by Aven’s experience growing up in a Lutheran community and Natalie’s experience in community with people who were part of the church. The way the church manifested was heavily influenced by the local climate – months of winter where it was too cold to go outside, with too little sunlight, where the climate becomes a thing you have to guard against in certain ways. The game has five motifs that determine the themes and forces that will be at play in your game, and each one reflects a different aspect of our experiences.
This is represented in the game very literally with the Winter motif, which brings scarcity to the community, and asks how do you make do with less than you need? This can also lead to tension between playbooks. For example, the Forged and the Morning Frost respectively represent a tension between repurposing what we have in order to get what we need, and making things that bring joy or beauty but may be a frivolous use of resources.
The church also often had an insular narrative – we didn’t necessarily think things that were outside of our community were bad, but we didn’t understand them, and there was a prominent narrative that we did not belong out there – in the cold, in the wider world, or, in Thistle and Hearth, in the Woods. A part of this was coping with the fact that we lived in a place where living is hard and grueling most of the time – by making the unfamiliar undesirable, we made the familiar desirable.
A ghost by Mahar Mangahas.
The Thistlefolk, our name for the fae, represent how power works sometimes in communities of faith. There are often people who you know little to nothing about but who either you as an individual or the wider community are beholden to – they hold power over you and their rules must be followed. Both the Thistlefolk and Family motifs explore questions over how power is distributed, and how it affects someone who is part of the community in ways that are not explicitly violent or economic.
Lutheran communities often build their identity around shared histories, but these are not always true to what actually happened. In Thistle and Hearth, the dead can come back to speak their truths, and that may complicate the things that the community hold as sacred, or it can be used to reinforce this shared history. They can also function metaphorically as a representation of people who have left the community but still have a connection to it, and can demystify the unknown in ways that breaks down the in-group/out-group narrative.
Exploring genre, or the surpassing of genre, is something that fascinates me. How did you use the Belonging-Outside-Belonging system to develop this new genre and how does it influence play?
PbtA games use move-like-mechanics to establish what people do in the world, and the fictional consequences of acting in those ways. This is used to reinforce genre by recreating the paradigms of action found in therein. Belonging Outside Belonging games go a step further by codifying what kinds of action makes characters vulnerable, and what kinds of action allow them to advance their agenda.
In Thistle and Hearth we included moves and grouped them in ways that either subvert existing genre influences, or else completely ignore them in favor of something new. For example, one of the Forged’s weak moves is “lash out in anger.” In other genres, this would probably be a strong or regular move for a physical-strength oriented playbook like the Forged. In this game, and this genre, it is something that they do to show their vulnerability.
If moves and their categorization makeup one part of the genre of the game, another important mechanical aspect of genre is the motifs. Motifs (which might be called “situations” or “setting elements” in other BoB games) establish fictional powers in the world, and the players together control them and influence how they are used in play. The group’s collective experiences, while perhaps based on their existing cultural knowledge, create a new genre when combined together.
The Woods by Mahar Mangahas.
Without shared control of the motifs, it would be up to individuals in the group to understand, synthesize, and then reproduce for everyone else. That would be much, much harder, and it would be more likely for the player’s existing cultural knowledge to leak into their creation of the genre. The motifs may be familiar to players individually, but the game leads to play that explores how they connect to each other to define a fictional world. The space between the different motifs has a somewhat defined shape, but it is only through play that a group can discovers what fills the empty space.
In contrast to Dream Askew, the lists that players pick from to define motifs are quite broad in Thistle and Hearth. There is a tendency towards higher variation between the motifs from game to game. The genre that the players explore together can have a vastly different texture depending on the options they choose. In one playtest, the Thistlefolk hoarded secrets, so much so that they sent a member of their brethren into the community to steal a particularly juicy secret. In another, the Thistlefolk craved music and violence; we elaborated on them as extravagant party-throwers who could appear at the drop of a hat and stay for days, leaving little time for sleep or solitude.
Such a lovely title treatment! By Mahar Mangahas.
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Thank you SO much to Aven and Natalie for this interview!! I hope you all enjoyed it and that you’ll check out Thistle and Hearth on Kickstarter today!
What is Campfire Memories, both as a product and as your vision?
Campfire Memories is GM-less one-shot game about families going on a difficult camping trip and then looking back on the experiences fondly later. It’s going up on Kickstarter as a Zine Quest project from Feb 4 through 16. I want this game to be an accessible, light way for people to get talking. In addition to the camping problems in the fiction, it usually brings up real anecdotes from the player’s own trips, which is perfect! Interestingly, after talking with my editor, the safety tool we settled on is the Luxton Technique from your website!
My experiences camping as a kid always had a fair share of troubles to encounter! What sort of troubles do players in Campfire Memories encounter that make their time difficult?
The complications in Campfire Memories are best framed as man-vs-nature obstacles. These can take the form of broken gear, bad weather, animal encounters, or other things. The important part is that they pit the characters against their environment, not each other. Characters can, of course, get upset with each other but that becomes more of a sub-plot than the focus of the game. When a player has their turn setting a scene, it’s the job of the player to their left to come up with the complication.
What do you do, mechanically or otherwise, to provide structure to the camping trip and story for the players and keep them engaged?
There are a couple mechanical widgets that keep players engaged in the game. Players all take turns setting scenes and creating complications. In my experience, most folks are super excited for the chance to do one of those. Also, characters are built with a goal, the kinds of experiences they want to have on their trip. This provides a lot of direction for players to push their characters in during camping scenes. The goal comes back into the play during the reflection phase, as the characters look back on their trip!
