A map

On inescapable things

Five of Cups: Messed up by ideology.

In a few weeks I'm going to be delivering a panel to a small local convention about politics in role-playing games (edit: transcript is here) and I'm going to make the – uncontroversial, grass-is-also-green – point that the moment you start making a model for stories, it will inevitably present a view of a world, as you feel it is, or as you feel it should be, or as you feel it shouldn't be.

On the economics of paper

Digest or large format? That is the question.
And yeah, White Wolf made that one on the right for me, and only me.

Just to say that yeah, we're still in layout, and for the first time in this whole project, I've... made a compromise. But this lets me talk about the format of role-playing games and how it's been shaped.

OK, look. The shape of a book has always been subject to economics. The book as we know it (specifically the sort of book to which the Romans gave the name codex as opposed to the more commonly used liber, a book in scroll form) became a thing because the early Christians a) were generally working class; b) tended to have a lot of books, some of which – only some of which – got compiled into the Bible. And you know what the main thing is about a book with covers and a binding compared to a scroll on a wooden roller? You can write on both sides of the paper.

We have books with covers and spines because they were cheaper than scrolls.

This is pertinent.

For a Song (in praise of ZEUK)

I'd never ridden on a carousel before yesterday. My kids have had that pleasure, and it's been glorious to see, but it was a thing denied my childhood; when I was old enough to go near one I always felt that there was nothing for me there. It's weird when you're an adult. Adulthood creates walls.

But when Marc Roberts, Marc's talented partner Ronnie and I passed the most exquisite merry-go-round I'd ever seen just opposite the St David's Centre, Cardiff, Marc suggested we go on it. "My treat," he said. He described it as a Wheel of Fortune.

And so, for the first time ever, I rode on a carousel, without self consciousness. We were the only people on it. It was, in some ways, an important experience. It was pretty great. I forgot I was old for a moment. 

Marc handed me this, too. The last one he had spare, he said.

How we've done so far

Layout.

 Chariot is in layout now.

Burn it Up. Tear it Down.

XVI. The Tower

As I write, the Chariot crowdfunder campaign, successfully funded and one stretch goal up, is over in about (looks at watch) 21 hours. It hit its goal twice over, and that surprised me because I  did not know if something that's so very much about my vision, and my very personal imagination would strike a chord with anyone at all. Like a lot of the things I've done, it has attracted a small number of people who are passionately invested in it.

Which is not a thing to be sad about. I'm of course going to keep writing, but as the last post before the finish line, I thought I'd post the last page of the book. 

Qeraf, The Seven Cities and One

The inevitable Crowdfunder update: Having sailed gently and gracefully past the £1000 mark like one of the aerial yachts of Caiphul, I'm pleased to say that I am able to pay Malcolm Sheppard money (and good, proper money, or something more approaching good proper money than the RPG industry usually offers) to write a chunk of material for the game, 10,000 words of it.

There are two days to go!  Please, even if you don't want to give us your money, share it on the usual social media, like Chariot on Facebook, follow me on Twitter and check out the Indiegogo campaign. Everyone who contributes more than a pound gets to see all the drafts.

OK, done. On to today's extract. 

I'm in an ebullient mood. So, one of the more fanciful, romantic corners of the setting today. Who doesn't love a flying island?