A typical day on the set at Tabletop

This is from my Tumblr Thingy. I thought it would be relevant to some of your interests.

QUESTION: Hello, I have a question about Tabletop (don’t worry, it’s not “when will you make more 😋). When you would film an episode, when would the interstitial commentary from the players be filmed? Because it seems like they should be like, during breaks in the game, so that people can give their thoughts as they come up, but during extended episodes I can’t see where that would cut and film them and rejoin, so maybe it was after? I can no longer sleep at night, this question haunts me. Ok bye now 😊

ANSWER: Good question, and you have it mostly correct.

What we’d do on a given day went like this:

I arrive and we run through the day’s schedule.
I shoot the introductions for the two episodes we are filming that day.
The players for the first game arrive, go to makeup and wardrobe, then spend about an hour with the game publisher’s rep and Ivan Van Norman, our games expert, to make sure they understand the game and its basic strategy.
While they do that, I shoot the rules explanation for each game.
Players are seated at the table with me, and we begin. Each game has a rough halfway point, usually determined by the points scored, and we’ll break at that halfway point. For a narrative episode like an RPG, we’d break around the end of the second act.
The players and I are interviewed about what we did in the first half of the game. We call these OTF interviews. I believe that’s a documentary term of art which means “On the fly.”
We play the second half of the game, until there is a winner.
We shoot the loser’s couch segment.
We shoot the trophy segment.
Now we shoot the OTF interviews for the second half of the game.
The players are finished, and we break for lunch. They can stay and eat lunch with us if they want, but most players choose to get on with their day.
The players for game 2 show up right as lunch ends. They’re always welcome to come before lunch, if they want to eat with us. I’d say about half of the players did that.
We sit down, and play the first half of the second game.
We break and shoot OTF.
We finish the game.
We shoot the loser’s couch.
We shoot the winner’s wall.
We shoot my OTF for the second half of the second game, so I can be finished and sent home as soon as possible. My union rules guarantee me 12 hours between when I leave set and when I come back, so we always try to get me wrapped (finished) early, so we don’t have to start later the following day.
We shoot the remaining OTFs.
Everyone goes home! That’s a wrap.

I’m glad you asked this question, because I got to revisit some of the joy that I felt when we were making Tabletop, Geek & Sundry was the greatest place in the world to be making awesome content, and I got to play games for my job.

Gamers vs. COVID-19

My upcoming eSports competition show, Gamemaster, has been delayed like everything else, but the people involved wanted to use the resources they had already mustered for production to do some good at a moment in time when it’s so desperately needed.

So we’re organizing to 3D print what we can for our frontline healthcare workers!

“As the spread of COVID-19 continues to impact us all, GAMEMASTER takes solace in friends, family and the indomitable spirit of our players, cast, crew and brand partners. When Reagan Stewart, web developer and an overall tech guru for GAMEMASTER, brought the idea of our team helping to make, distribute and organize PPE for medical professionals as they experience shortages, we immediately saw a way that we could help. Thanks to our amazing and generous brand partners, we have not only been able to set up a 3D print operation in Atlanta, but, we have also developed a network for healthcare providers and first responders across the country to connect with makers in their community to get the specific PPE that they need, quickly and without cost. Thank you all!:”

I’m so proud, and so honored, to be part of this show. I’m so excited to share our first effort to join the fight against COVID-19. If you’d like to get into the fight with us, and add your resources to ours, we have a sign-up page, here.

walked upon the edge of no escape

My friend, Will Hindmarch, is a brilliant writer and game designer. He’s one of the smartest people I know, and his weekly newsletter always challenges and inspires me.

In this week’s newsletter, he talks about playing a videogame called CONTROL, which by coincidence, I began playing over the weekend.

I wanted to share some thoughts here that I shared with Will privately, because I’m interested to hear your thoughts on my thoughts.

Will said:

> As of this week, I’m also playing Control again, and glad to be doing so.

Here’s my reply to him:

This game is beguiling me. I have only faced three boss battles, and I’ve nearly quit during each one. I love the story, I love the visual and audio design, and I love the puzzles. But boy do I hate it when it becomes a video game with a boss battle, especially when it takes two dozen or so runs at it to get the shape of the level, and you have to sit through 30 second loading screens every time you die.

It’s like I’m intrigued by the story, but my skills as a FPS gamer just aren’t where they need to be for me to get through those video game bits without ragequitting at least once a day.

I had a thought about Control: I’ve been playing RDR2 since it came out. It’s literally the only game I’ve played, I’ve even replayed it, with a replay of RDR1 in between. I have been able to adjust the difficulty setting so the game really holds my hand and makes the video game portions of the story simple and satisfying to get through. In a way, I’m getting to live inside competence porn, right? And I’m a middle-aged white dude in that game, which is significant when I compare it to Control, which is REALLY FUCKING HARD … and the protagonist is a woman.

So I’m thinking about how REALLY easy life is for middle-aged white dudes, especially when we compare our lives to the lives of young women. My current experience has become a metaphor, which has been intellectually stimulating and challenging (in a really good way).

In RDR2, I have (effectively) unlimited ammo, (effectively) unlimited health items, and because I only cared about the story and exploring the world (sidebar: riding my horse all the way across the map, stopping only to engage photo mode, like I’m a tourist in the old world, is really satisfying and fun), I adjusted the difficulty to reflect my personal difficulty level in the real world, which is to say I put it on the easiest setting.

When I started CONTROL, I immediately noticed that I have to manage my ammo, and health is WAY more vulnerable than it is in RDR2. There’s no computer assist in aiming; I have to do it all myself (and I am NOT good at it). Mechanically, I have to work really hard to kite around the bosses without dying, and the game is just totally unforgiving when I fuck up.

Maybe I’m overthinking it, but I feel like the experience I’ve had with these two games is a really strong metaphor for the different experiences men and women have in the world, online and off.

I don’t know if any of this makes sense outside of my head, but now that I’m thinking about the hours I spent playing Control yesterday, and thinking about how, even though it can be REALLY hard and REALLY frustrating, it’s also compelling. I’m not entirely sure it’s worth the effort, with my limited free time (when I ragequit last night, I said, out loud in an empty room: “This is such a waste of my time. I am not having fun and I don’t know why I’m even giving this goddamn game my time,” and yet here I am, thinking about trying it again today.

This is a new experience for me, to be seriously challenged in a game and not know if I’ll be able to overcome the challenges that exist between me and the resolution of the story. After nearly three years of something that’s less gaming and more competency porn, I’m finding out if I can actually rise up to meet a challenge (and if it’s worth the effort) that I can’t skip or have help overcoming.

I feel like it’s a powerful and meaningful metaphor, and it’s caused me to examine and reflect upon my privilege, and I appreciate that. At the same time, I feel like the point of games is to be fun, and this game isn’t really “fun” the way RDR2 has been “fun” for me.

But I don’t think that’s the game’s fault. My son is 30 and he loves games like this that are REALLY hard (he loves something called Dark Souls that reduced me to tears in about thirty seconds). Most of the games I looked at when I was trying to decide what to play instead of RDR2 seem to fit into this difficulty curve, which I suspect may just be the state of games today, and I’m an old man who is outside the demo.

There’s another metaphor for ya.

horsin’ around

Red Dead Redemption 2 is the most emotionally profound game I have ever played. When I finished it a couple months ago, I felt a kind of wonderful sadness that something I loved was over, secure in the knowledge that I’d be able to experience the story, spend time with the characters, and explore the world all over again whenever I did a replay.

So about a week ago, after I had finished replaying the story in Red Dead Redemption 1, I started my replay. I already have a deeper appreciation for the early character interactions, because I’ve spent a hundred hours more with them than I had the first time around, and I know now that I really want to spend as much time in chapter 2 as I possibly can.

But I know that you’re not here for my philosophical ruminations on the deeper story that is happening around Arthur and his gang, and I know you aren’t here to read a thousand words about why it feels so good to leave this awful world behind for a few hours every night.

You’re here for horse names. I see you.

So Hosea wants me to go hunting with him. I know there’s a legendary bear in our future, and I know that we aren’t going to take it down on our first try, because I’ve been here before. But what I don’t remember is that Hosea wants me to take this old draft horse to the stables in Valentine and sell it, so I can get a new horse of my own.

I already have a horse, and he’s fine, but there’s nothing special about him. He’s sort of a starter horse, and he’s a good boah, but he isn’t that fast, even after we’ve reached our maximum bonding level.

So I go to the stables, I sell this big draft horse, and I pick up a Palomino. She’s beautiful, with a gorgeous white mane and some dappling on her haunches. She’s fast, and she’s going to cost me $150 of my $155.

It’s a lot of money to spend on my horse, and it’s going to be challenging to rebuild my savings this early in the game, but the alternative is a $50 horse who I don’t feel anything for. Even in a video game, an emotional connection with my horse is important to me, so I spend nearly all of my money, and buy her.

Now the game lets me give her a name, and I have to make the most important decision I’m going to make in this game for the next 24 hours of gameplay.

I have already used Mane Weidlin and Neighlor Swift. I briefly consider Nagnes Moorehead, but it’s kind of a walk, and it’s too long for the number of characters I get, anyway.

So I start thinking about horse-related terms, and I end up with “Steed” in my head…

Which is why I am delighted to introduce you all to my new horse, Tara Steed. She’s a little bit of a mess, but she means well and is doing the best she can.

She’s no Neighlor Swift, but who is, really?

The Roll Model T is in its final days.

We are in the final days of my Roll Model T-shirt with Stands, and I felt like this was a good opportunity to post all the amazing graphics Riley at Stands has made for me to use during the campaign.

These are all based on original AD&D books, and I love them so much I kind of wish we could make them into prints.

I’ve been busy with work, and struggling with my mental health, for months, now. I’ve learned that a big part of my self care routine is to be grateful for good things, even if they seem very small, because those little bits of light in the darkness can come together to help guide me out of a painful place. These images have reminded me of the decades of joy I’ve had playing D&D, and have reminded me that there have been incredibly good times in my life, even at a time like this when all I can seem to feel is sadness and despair.

So I guess I’m tying to say thank you to Riley and everyone at Stands for not just giving me the opportunity to put something fun into the world (when I was on the Star Trek cruise earlier this month, I saw some people wearing Owl Bear shirts and it made me so happy, like we were fellow travelers who were sharing an inside joke), but also for indirectly granting me a strong connection to happy and joyful memories.