It is 3:24 AM. Myself, Sheldon, Greg, and the Amazing Neil just finished re-mixing all six songs on our demo.
It is done. And it sounds amazing.
Those who come to the birthday party on the 10th will get a pre-release copy.
See you there!
Discordian Typo of the Day
“My bang twinged this morning.”
I’ve been packing, anticipating the inevitable move. When I got up this morning, there was a distinct soreness in my back. When I sat down to check my e-mail… pain.
I laid down for an hour, a heating pad under my spine.
I’m better now, but my body has given me the warning sign. I will obey it.
(All typos are international intentional.)
GeeksOn.com
The GeeksOn! podcast just spent about fifteen minutes or so geeking out about my games. You can get to their podcast by clicking on the logo above or you can get to the actual show they said nice things about me here.
Praise for Wilderness of Mirrors
My little clandestine spy game, Wilderness of Mirrors, has gotten a lot of praise lately.
“(a) fascinating little spy game where you really CAN be a James Bond-esque secret agent.”
— Stan!
“(I)f Q made an rpg–packed a ton of gaming coolness in like 15 pages.”
— Justin D. Jacobson, Blue Devil Games
“Fixes every problem I’ve had with spy games. I’m really glad I found something like this.”
— Paul Tevis, Have Games Will Travel
Ken Hite also said nice things about it at Gen Con, but he hasn’t said anything official yet. 🙂
Test Band Logo
Mister Cooper
I hadn’t seen him in I don’t know how many years. We’d both changed, but I recognized him when he came in the door. I’d grown a beard and he’d grown some pounds.
He put his guitar cases down and introduced me to his son. His father’s bright, intelligent eyes mixed with that silk coffee skin.
He showed me the bass he made himself, looking like a piece of driftwood with a fretboard, polished up to shine. He plugged in, I sat down, and Sheldon started playing chords.
It was choppy at first. Sheldon insists on throwing people in the water to see how they react. From behind the bass, he watched carefully, picking up chords, asking questions. There was a light in Sheldon’s eye and I knew, from behind that homemade bass, he was asking the right questions.
They began talking like guitarists, speaking that occult language I recognize but do not fully understand. When we played “Miskatonic Morgue,” and Sheldon sang some of the lyrics, he giggled, recognizing the references. Sheldon and I passed a stealthy smile.
It took an hour for us to really warm up. He was jotting down notes in his book, recognizing the theory behind the music, applying bass parts that complimented what was already there. We took a break. I kept playing. Every moment behind the kit is magic for me and if I could spend every last minute of this brief life behind that kit, I would. Break was over and we started on the last two songs.
We finished. He seemed to understand what we were doing. Coming out of a prog rock garbage band, he liked the change of direction. “You guys hit it,” he said. Sheldon and I smiled.
Fifteen minutes of rehearsal time left and he asks to play a couple songs a few more times. We go through “Victimless Crime” again. Then, we play that New Orleans song.
Right off, I could tell the adrenaline had hit us. I was playing a little harder, a little faster. Sheldon’s fingers were warmed up, familiar with the fretboard and flying. And over in the corner, the new guy hammered the bass. During the break down, I was watching him, and there was a moment when eight of his fingers were moving on that guitar. Eight. I laughed out loud and shouted something I don’t remember.
We hit the climax of the song. The part where I get two moments of just me playing as hard and fast as I can. The first one was perfect. The second sang. So I added a third. Sheldon laughed and shouted at me. “What are you doing?”
I laughed back at him. “I don’t know!”
Afterward, in front of the rehearsal studio, we all talked for a while. The boy with the bright eyes was smiling. We were all smiling. I hugged my old friend, his father. It had been too long.
We went out for Pink’s after that, still catching up, old friends getting to know each other again.
A band of friends. That’s a lot to ask for.
Other People’s Children
There’s a trend in drumming lately, something I’ve been listening to, and frankly, I don’t like the sound of it.
There’s a trend in drumming… let’s see if I can explain this. It seems as if a lot of drummers don’t really have any sense of rhythm anymore. Maybe rhythm is the wrong word. Yeah, I think it is. It’s something else that I can’t quite put my finger on.
I mean, drummers like Neil Peart and Chad Gracey, they have a real sense of… what’s the word?
Ahah! “Composition.”
When I listen to a pattern from Gracey, there’s a sense of composition. That is, every stroke means something, lending itself to the greater score.
What I hear from a lot of drummers (and see on Youtube) is this overwhelming desire to play as many 18 stroke double diddle periddles as possible. And all with each limb. It’s this… boy, am I gonna get in trouble for saying this… it’s a big fat meaningless noise. And, frankly, it’s only purpose is to show off in front of other drummers.
A drummer is a musician, just like like every other musician in the group. And his part has to add to the song. His job is to contribute, not smash as many 32nd notes as he can into one bar. With both hands. And both feet. All playing in different times.
I’ve never been a big fan of jazz for this reason. Jazz looks like showing off. And that’s fine, but I’m not a fan of it. I like music that feels like each person is playing with the other, all making a single composition.
Drummers need to put away their dicks and pick up their sticks again. Stop playing triple quadadiddleripplefiddles and learn some groove.
___
My Friday rants are getting friendlier. I must be getting older.
PS: Oh, and another thing. A very important thing. DOUBLE BASS IS A POWER ONLY TO BE USED FOR GOOD! If you find yourself playing double bass all the way through a song… give it up, man. That’s like double fudge chocolate fudge fudge fudge chocolate whipped cream fudge chocolate whipped cream chocolate chocolate fudge ice cream. And nobody needs that.
The Lovecraft Game… Re-Write
I just got done with an incredible meeting. Someone with a real knowledge of scripts and screen writing who was willing to sit down and tell me how to make The Lovecraft Game a real script as opposed to what it is now.
And his suggestions made it 100% better. I can’t wait to start revising.