Author: john wick

We wanted to start at 7. Trekhead was late, so we started at nine. I meant to go to midnight.

Things moved fast. Before I knew it, the clock read twelve, and the momentum was going too fast for me to stop. They were having so much fun, I said, “What the hell. Another hour.”

Two o’clock. “What the hell…”

We quit at 3:15 AM. Everyone still wide awake, everyone still ready to play. Six hour stretch into the wee hours of the morning. Twelve hours of gaming in the span of twenty-four. Man, it’s been a while since I done that.

They got to see Marcus’ face last night. It isn’t pretty. It was sad to see him go. But, my boy sure knows how to make an exit.

I had more fun last night than I’ve had in a hundred Cam games. My previous conclusion (I have fun with my friends — the fact that we’re at a Cam game is incidental) is solidly reinforced.

The game last night went so well, I’ve gotten roped into running it again tonight. “We’re not quitting there!” they yelled.

I feel good.

Oh, and Steve. One word. Shovel.

TT Vampire tonight. I’ve been waiting a month to run this game again. So have the players. Everybody’s very excited.

On the other hand, things just get bleaker in the Cam. Frankly, the only reason to keep playing is it’s the only chance I get to see some people. If it weren’t for them, I’d drop it all together. The Tremere chantry thing is a complete fuck up. Complete. Walker’s death is far more compliated than I suspected. The new “venue” system is so poorly thought out and so full of loopholes, it’s hillarious. I don’t trust any of the STs (okay, I trust two). The whole organization is filled with wankers, cheaters, and whiners — from the top to the bottom. In fact, the only way to protect your character is to be a better cheater than the other cheaters. Then, I discover one of the biggest cheaters is an ST. When the STs are cheaters, what’s the point in playing?

A couple of friends asked me to run a Dark Ages troupe game so I sent out e-mails to the membership — and I didn’t get any response at all. The lack of enthusiasm was inspiring.

I made a promise to Trekhead and my chapter. I intend on keeping that promise. However, even if Walker lives, the only place he’ll play is in The Fool’s game (she’s one of the two I trust). I won’t play him in any other ST’s game, and I won’t play him while I’m AST in Trekhead’s game. I may just let him fade into being an NPC. And Marcus? I put too much effort into making Marcus live and breathe to have him get shmozzed by a jabroni.

Anyway, I can play Marcus at the TT game — he was scaring people there for years before he ever came to the Cam. Besides, I don’t have to get his bugs approved, or his curse, or anything else about him. I can just let him be Marcus and not have to make him Vanilla Marcus. He can be Double-Fudge Ripple Rocky Road Marcus, and I don’t have to ask anybody’s permission.

Top it all off with the fact that three of the reasons I play in the Cam are moving to Santa Barbara in July. That leaves… (hold on, counting)… two reasons to stay in the Cam. I don’t need it as a creative outlet, I don’t need it to “authenticate” my muse. I just like telling stories with my friends. That means if I can get a troupe game started, and get the people I like involved, I drop the Cam.

(Consult The Fool’s Journal for an explanation. Questions asked by John, answered by The Wick.)

What is my real name: John’s true name? You’ve got to be kidding. I’ll keep that secret to myself.

Where did we meet: In Ontario, California.

How long have you known me: I’ve known John for… what? Almost ten years now.

How well do you think you know me: I know John better than he knows himself. I know what buttons to push, what levers to pull, and what plugs to… well, plug in.

Do I smoke: When he was fifteen, John picked up smoking. Not just
cigarettes. He stopped when he was seventeen. Cold turkey. Little bastard has some will on him. But, not when it comes to his “opinion fits.”

When you first saw me, what was your first impression: Heh. Nice kid. Full of romantic notions. Like “honesty,” “honor,” and that most devious of delusions: “love.” I showed him the error of his ways.

My hair and eye color: He calls himself a “blond,” but it’s really a dishwater brown. He’s got blue eyes. And great lashes. Girls really fall for the eyes.

What’s one of my favorite things to do: Pine.

What’s one of the first things I said to you: “Get out of my head!”

What’s my favourite type of music: Mine? Nine Inch Nails. His? Tom Waits.
These days. He also loves Rush.

What’s my best physical feature: Not his stomach. Heh.

Am I shy or outgoing: Depends. There’s times when he has to be quiet and think to himself. That’s his problem: he thinks too much. Then, he gets in that I’ve got to be the center of attention mode, and you just can’t shut him up.

Would you say I’m funny: Sure, if you like self-depreciating humor.

Am I a rebel or do I follow the rules: He follows a strict set of rules. Except when he’s listening to me.

Any special talents I have: I guess you could say he has a talent for writing, although he can never find the words for the images in his brain. That’s why he likes storytelling so much.

Would you consider me a friend: We have a love-hate relationship.

Have you ever seen me cry: Yes. (evil laugh) Every time.

A good nickname for me would be: He’s been called “Trapper.” As in “Doctor Trapper John.” That was in high school when all the girls came to him for advice with their boyfriends. They saw him as a “good guy” they could talk to. I taught him how to read tarot cards and convince those same girls they should dump their boyfriends and go out with him instead. “Girls don’t like ‘good guys,'” I told him. “They like jerks.” I was right. He couldn’t keep them away with a stick. He got into the occult and his buddies started calling him “Strange.” As in “Doctor Strange.” Hey — am I telling too much? Heh. Too bad.

Am I in love, and with who: He’s trying so hard to fall out of love and fall in love at the same time. It’s cute.

Say anything to me here: I’m not in any bottle.

Have I ever been hospitalized and what for: Not for any physical malady.

Have you ever had a crush on me: On John? No. He’s not my type. He’s not self-destructive or self-obsessive enough.

No sign of the Gray Faerie just yet. Very sad. Soon.

Went out to dinner last night with friends and realized just how much I miss the company of women. Not neccessarily in a romantic way, just friendly female company. I spend all my time with men. Not good.

Julie’s coming down soon. A week or so. That’ll be good. She’s my sister. There’s even a slight family resemblence. We got confused as brother/sister once, and it stuck.

She’ll be with her husband, which means we won’t get any time alone, and he’ll be looking at me weird. “This is that soul brother she keeps talking about” kind of looks. “The guy she can tell anything.” It’ll be awkward. It’s always been awkward. For me and her. Introducing Julie to any girl I’m romantically linked with has been uncomfortable. “No, we were never lovers, but we’ve been very close for almost… God, fifteen years now.” Try explaining that kind of relationship to anybody — let alone a lover — and you’ve got problems. Hurm.

Anyway, back to work. Got to finish up the Magax Saga.

I held a (very) unofficial poll today: should the beard stay or go?

It isn’t really a beard. More of a mustache/goatee thing. But, I asked, and I got answers. I asked all the women who have seen me with and without it. The results were pretty one-sided, but I was really looking for two opinions in particular. One said, “I love beards. Keep it.” The other said, “Ditch it. Right now.”

Heh. Women. Figures. Can’t they ever make up their minds?

A very nice girl here at work helped me with the html, making it look just right. Check it out…

http://www.neopets.com/browseshop.phtml?owner=orkboss

Nothing’s for sale (yet), but I’ll pass any compliments over to my html-toss-down buddy.

By the way, if anybody’s got any Jhudora items I don’t have yet, let me know. I’m willing to trade. I’m specifically looking for Jhudora’s Collar.

And no comments from the Freud gallery.

I killed the “john@wickedpress.com” e-mail because all I ever got was porn. Now, my new e-mail is getting besieged with “HOT TEEN GIRLS!!!”

What the hell?

i am extremely intelligent and very wise. i think logically and rhetorically in order to get problems solved. if i’m not mad now, i’m getting very close.

how mad are you?

this quiz was made by piksy

“You’re serious about this, aren’t you?” she asks, her grin more than a little wicked.

“I am,” I tell her. “It’s the Great Secret.”

“‘The Great Secret,'” she says, taking a sip from the Daphne’s cup.

“If a woman wants sex, it’s because she’s ‘sexually liberated.’ If a man enjoys sex, it’s because he’s a pervert.”

“Go on,” she says, smiling.

“Men are in the subservient position in the dating game. We’re waiting for women to give us the go-ahead. They hold all the cards.”

“That so?” she asks me, leaning a little closer.

“That’s right.”

Her smile curves just a little more. “You ever consider the fact women are waiting for men to give the say-so?”

I shake my head. “I did. When I was naive. Fact of the matter is, women hold all the cards. They can wait. Men have to do the approach. And, when they do, they can get a reward, or get their nose shoved in it. If a woman approaches a man, it’s because the yes is already on her lips.”

I take another bite. “Men have to ask permission. Women don’t even have to ask.”

“And you’re serious about this?” she asks.

My turn to smile. “’bout as serious as I am about everything else.”

“That’s a relief,” she says.