Happy Don’t Be A Dick Day!

When I gave my 2007 PAX Prime Keynote, I said

Arcades were more than just magnificent geek Shangri-Las, filled with all sorts of video games and pinball machines. They were a vital part of my generation’s social development. If I beat another kid in a two player game and taunted him mercilessly, with explicit references to his mother's sex life and my role in it, the way some online gamers do today, he would have justifiably kicked the everliving shit out of me. So I learned – in arcades – the importance of good sportsmanship. Because arcades were real places, staffed by real people, we had to worry about much more than getting kicked off a server if we were complete idiots in a game. I guess this is a double-edged sword, and I’m feeling like a cranky old man by even mentioning it, but would you all do me a favor? When you’re playing online, have fun, and don’t be a dick, okay?

I hoped that it would catch on, and that people would spread it around, live it, and eventually make online gaming fun again. 

I got lucky, and it did catch on. Within a few days, people were using it as their forum signature. The Enforcers at PAX called it Wheaton's Law, and used it as a sort of Prime Directive. Maybe it's the blue car syndrome, but since 2007, I have seen and heard people referencing those four words all over the place, and I hope that they're taking it to heart. I sincerely hope that it will spread throughout our culture, and it will give our fellow geeks/nerds/gamers/humans/muggles a sort of mantra, so we'll all be kind to each other.

So, yesterday morning, CB on Twitter showed me a picture of their calendar, which had my birthday and NASA's birthday marked down for today. The calendar said, "In his honor, don't be a dick!"* 

I thought that was cute and awesome, but my brain positively lost its shit about it.

"DUDE!" My brain screamed, "LET'S MAKE YOUR BIRTHDAY TOMORROW THE OFFICAL 'DONT BE A DICK DAY!'"

"Okay, first of all, it's technically our birthday. Also, I don't think we can just pick a day and decide that it's a thing."

"Are you kidding us? It's fun and it's silly and what else are you going to do today anyway? Upvote more cat pictures on Reddit?"

"Well, I was… but now I think I'll be upvoting all the scumbag brain pictures in solidarity."

"You're adorable," my brain said, "let's see you do that… without control of your central nervous system!"

I shit myself, then. It wasn't my fault.

"Okay," I said, "You've made your point. I'll get to work on it."

I registered a domain, put my incredibly impressive* graphic design and HTML skills** to work, and about 45 minutes later, Don't Be A Dick Day was born. 

I'm not gonna lie, Marge: I really hope this becomes A Thing.

A few notes, and a story, about this whole idea:

First of all, epic thanks goes to Jemina, who made that beautiful artwork I ended up using as the centerpiece of the thing.  

A non-zero number of people have suggested that every day should be Don't Be A Dick Day. I agree, but we should start with baby steps, right?

Most of the Internet took this in the spirit it was intended. Sadly, some folks decided that I was being arrogant by suggesting a day I made up should be a thing, and some other folks decided that I was doing this because I want attention. I'm very sorry that those people missed the point. 

The FAQ for Don't Be A Dick Day is simple by design, but for those wondering how specifically to not be a dick, and why this is something I talk about, I offer the following story.

When I was in my early 30s, I had major sinus surgery to correct a severely deviated septum and to remove so many polyps I could hardly breathe through my nose. In the pre-operation phase of the surgery, I had to fill out a lot of paperwork, including something called an Advance Directive, which told the hospital what my wishes were in the event something went wrong.

As I filled out that form, instructing the hospital to pull the plug if I something happened that was going to leave me in a persistent vegetative state and give all of my organs to people who needed them, for the first time in my life, I had to really think very clearly and honestly about the possibility that I may go to sleep and never wake up, leaving Anne without a husband and our kids without a father.

I can see it so clearly now, years later: I'm sitting in my office. The ceiling fan is on low. My dog, Riley, is sleeping near my feet. I'm listening to New Order on iTunes. It's late afternoon, so the blinds are closed to keep the hot sun out of the room, and they glow brightly around the edges like there's a spotlight on the other side of them. From the living room, I can hear Nolan playing Call of Duty on the Xbox. My chair creaks as I lean back in it and before I know what I'm doing, I'm on my feet, walking into the living room.

"I need to talk to you for a second," I tell him.

"Hold on," he says, without looking away from the screen.

I wait. I really hate this game, and I don't understand the culture of dickishness that seems integral to its multiplayer experience. Through the headphones he's wearing, I can hear barely-pubescent voices curse each other in a myriad of colorful ways.

I wish Nolan enjoyed the RPGs I enjoy, so we had something more in common. He's either 15 or 16, and everything I like, everything I do, every breath I take is so lame. I've pretty much lost him to the Teenage Years. I don't know that I'll get him back when he's 20, and though I know not to take it personally, I still do.

The screen changes. Based on the squawking in his headphones, one team was victorious because the losing team was too busy fucking the winners' mothers.

He puts the controller down and sets the headphones on the couch next to him. He looks at me. I sit on the coffee table and face him.

"I'm having major surgery tomorrow morning," I say, gently.

He barely nods.

At least he didn't roll his eyes, I think.

"And it's very unlikely that anything will go wrong… but just in case, I have something I have to tell you."

I look at him, really look at him, and hope that my words are getting through. I realize that I'm dangerously close to tearing up, which I know will make him tune me out. I take a slow, deep breath to steady myself.

"If something happens to me and I'm not here to continue raising you, I want you to remember these things: I want you to live your life honestly, honorably, with kindness, compassion and generosity."

A cloud passes across his face and briefly disturbs the mask of indifference he's been wearing for a year or more.

"So please, please, if you don't remember anything else I've said to you, please: be honest, be honorable, be kind, be compassionate, and work hard."

His expression doesn't change at all. "Okay," he says.

He has the headphones back on and the controller in his hands before I've stood up.

"Okay. I love you."

"I love you too." He says it by rote, like a kid reciting the pledge of allegiance. Just words he know's he's expected to recite. My heart aches a little bit.

I hope I got through to him, I think, regardless of what happens to me tomorrow.

I've been closing my talks at conventions with a version of that story, and leaving a similar wish with the people who are there. I don't mean to be preachy or anything, but I figure that if people are going to listen to me talk, I should at least have something meaningful to say.

So if you're still reading, I hope you'll join me in the celebration of Don't Be A Dick Day, I hope that you'll take it in the spirit that it's intended, and I hope that you'll:

  • Be honest.
  • Be kind.
  • Be honorable.
  • Work hard.
  • And always be awesome.

 

 

*Actually not impressive at all, even by 1999 standards.

*** Well, I guess it's slightly impressive that my code validates.

The conclusion of Tabletop’s Fiasco

Part one of Saturday Night 78 ended with quite a cliffhanger…

…so here's part two!

 

If you're intrigued by Fiasco, I highly encourage you to get a couple of friends together and play it at your next game night. And if you want to give the Saturday Night 78 playset a go, you can download it from Bullypulpit.

Also, if you've played Fiasco and want to give another non-traditional RPG that focuses on storytelling a try, pick up my friend Paul's game A Penny For My Thoughts.

Even more adventures in Homebrewing

Northern Brewer sells these recipe kits that aren't clones of commercial beers; they are the actual recipe from the brewery, using the same grains, hops, and yeast strains.

Today, I homebrewed one: a Surly Cynic Pro Series Kit.

Surly is a brewery in Minneapolis, and the Cynic is a Saison. What's a Saison? Well, allow Wikipedia to tell you:

"Saison" is French for season, because these ales were traditionally brewed in the autumn or winter for consumption during the late summer harvest for farm workers who were entitled to up to five litres throughout the workday during harvest season. Today they are brewed year round. As the saison style originated before the advent of refrigeration, Belgian brewers had to brew in autumn or winter to prevent the ale from spoiling during the storage period. After brewing, the ale was stored until the late summer harvest. Although now most commercial examples range from 5 to 8% abv, originally saisons were meant to be refreshing and thus had alcohol levels less than 3%. Because of the lack of potable water, saisons would give the farm hands the hydration they needed without the threat of illness.

Like most interesting beer styles, this one developed because there was a need for it. It persists because there is a different need.

One of the most important aspects of homebrewing is controlling the temperature of the fermenting beer. Too cool, and the yeast will go to sleep. Too hot, and the yeast will go crazy and produce all kinds of yucky flavours that are yucky. Also, yucky.

Because I don't currently have a big awesome refrigerator that I can use to control my fermentation temperature, I have to brew "in season" using yeasts that can tolerate warmer or cooler temperatures. That means in that I'm doing wheat beers and saisons right now (the #VandalEyesPA was an exception, because I convinced Anne to let me turn our guest bathroom into a 69 degree cold box for two weeks. Totally worth it.)

So the yeast I used with this beer is from Wyeast Labs. It's called 3522: Belgian Ardennes. It is happy from 65 to 85 degrees, so the 70-74 degrees I can keep a fermenting beer at in my office without much effort is going to be perfect.

The brew day was a delightful experience. Anne went to work early, and I ran up to the store to buy some water and a big bag of ice. Last night, I prepared my yeast so they'd be ready to go to work today. I talked to them whenver I walked past the packages on the kitchen counter: "Oh, you guys have no idea what you're going to get to do in a few hours!" and "I hope you're hungry, little yeasties!"

This isn't weird at all, I assure you.

So I took all my gear out onto the patio, and started heating up water for the Mash. The Mash is what it's called when grains are soaked in water to get all their sugars out. The water is collected after a thing called the Sparge, and that water — which is now full of tasty sugars and colored depending on the type of grain that was mashed — is brought to a boil and turned into beer.

It was really hot today, but not so hot that milk would be a bad choice, if you were into drinking milk, which I am not because milk is disgusting.

Anyway.

It was hot, and I decided that, since I was all alone in my backyard and nobody would be disturbed by the sight of me, I took my shirt off. I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the window, and I was surprised to not see a pudgy guy staring back at me. I guess working out three times a week, drinking less beer, and eating a really healthy diet is paying off. Go me.

I got the water to the temperature I needed, added it to the grains, stirred it, and then played Hungry Hungry Hippos for an hour while chemistry did its thing. I heated up some more water to do a thing called the Mashout (heating the water to a point where sugars stop coming out of the grains), then I did the Sparge.

This recipe does a neat thing called first wort hopping, which is where you put hops into the brew kettle before any heat is applied. I've never done this before, but it sounds really cool. Here's how master homebrew genuis John Palmer describes it:

An old yet recently rediscovered process (at least among homebrewers), first wort hopping (FWH) consists of adding a large portion of the finishing hops to the boil kettle as the wort is received from the lauter tun. As the boil tun fills with wort (which may take a half hour or longer), the hops steep in the hot wort and release their volatile oils and resins. The aromatic oils are normally insoluble and tend to evaporate to a large degree during the boil. By letting the hops steep in the wort prior to the boil, the oils have more time to oxidize to more soluble compounds and a greater percentage are retained during the boil.

Only low alpha finishing hops should be used for FWH, and the amount should be no less than 30% of the total amount of hops used in the boil. This FWH addition therefore should be taken from the hops intended for finishing additions. Because more hops are in the wort longer during the boil, the total bitterness of the beer in increased but not by a substantial amount due to being low in alpha acid. In fact, one study among professional brewers determined that the use of FWH resulted in a more refined hop aroma, a more uniform bitterness (i.e. no harsh tones), and a more harmonious beer overall compared to an identical beer produced without FWH.

The FWH I used were Styrian Golding, an awesome hop that I don't normally use because I make Pale Ales and IPAs, usually, with American hops. Styrian Golding is grown in Slovenia and has this fantastic, spicy, grassy aroma. It's really different from the American hops I usually use that have piney, floral, or citrus aromas and flavours.

I set all my timers, wrote down a bunch of notes in my journal, and turned on the Sonos. I always listen to music when I brew, and I keep notes about what I played because… um. Because of reasons. Today, I listened to Pink Floyd and Yes, because it just felt like a prog rock kind of afternoon.

Everything went off without a hitch. I didn't have any boilovers, and my dogs kept me company the whole time. I did get a little sunburned on my shoulders and neck, but I'll just take that like a badge of honour (Badge name: Stupid Wil Forgot To Put On Sunscreen.)

When you brew beer, you want to hit a number called Original Gravity. This number measures how much sugar and potential alcohol is in the wort (the wort — pronounced like the kid with the wooden leg in Diablo — is what your boiling mixture of barley and hops is called until you put yeast into it). Every beer has a Target Gravity, and the closer you get to the Target Gravity, the more likely you'll make the beer you wanted to make. The Target Gravity on the Cynic is 1.053, and I ended up at 1.052. That's close enough for me, and within the margin of error. I should finish with a beer around 5.2 or 5.2 percent alcohol, which will be a nice break from the 6.5% of #VandalEyesPA.

When the brew was done, I cooled my wort, poured it into a fermenting bucket, added just under a gallon of "top off" water to bring it up to five gallons, and pitched the yeast. 

"Okay, little yeasties!" I said to the first packet, "you guys have so much awesome sugars to eat! Go have fun!" 

I poured the yeast into the wort and got the second packet ready. It was so swollen, I was afraid it would explode, so I whispered to it: "Hey yeasties! Guess what? There's about 100 billion of your brothers and sisters in this bucket here, and I'm going to let you join their party. Just relax for a minute while I vent some of this pressure off…"

I gently tore a corner of the package and took a tiny blast of yeast to the face.

Go ahead and make your own Peter North joke here, gang.

"Okay, go hang out with your pals, and get to work!" I said. I poured the second packet into the wort, sealed the lid and stuck the airlock into the top. I wiped yeast off my face and put my hands on my hips.

I did my "I'm so very pleased with myself" move, and went to the patio to clean up from a successful and thoroughly enjoyable brewday.

My beer will ferment for about 2 weeks. Then I'll move it into a different fermenter to continue for another 2 to 4 weeks, depending on some things. Then, I'll bottle it in big bottles (because that seems like the right thing to do with a Saison) and let it condition for two weeks.

If everything goes according to plan, this should be ready to drink right around PAX, or just after, which is when it gets really hot here in Los Angeles… and is perfect Saison weather. 

Introducing As Seen on Tabletop.

Tabletop on Geek and SundryEvery day, I get emails, messages on Twitter, and Ravens from people who have played a game because we played it on Tabletop. The stories and pictures are super awesome, and I want to share them with the world.

So I set up a Tumblr called As Seen On Tabletop for viewers to share your stories and pictures from your game nights, game days, and game shops.

You can either use the SUBMIT function there, or you can send email to tabletop (at symbol) wil wheaton (dot goes here) net.

 

 

The newest #Tabletop is a real #Fiasco!

The newest episode of Tabletop is Fiasco, my absolute favorite storytelling RPG of all time.

Fiasco is "a game about ordinary people with powerful ambition and poor impulse control. There will be big dreams and flawed execution. It won’t go well for them, to put it mildly, and in the end it will probably all go south in a glorious heap of jealousy, murder, and recrimination. It’s designed to be played in a single session, usually around two and a half hours, with no prep."

When you have a Fiasco, you use a playset to establish the things the players are going to ruin their lives trying to get, who they are to each other, and where everything is going to get all fucked up. Some of my favourite playsets are Los Angeles 1936, Dallas 1963, and Flyover.

Saturday Night 78. A Fiasco Playset written by Wil Wheaton and Will Hindmarch, and Jason Morningstar.

The playset we used for Tabletop was written by me and Will Hindmarch, and Fiasco's creator Jason Morningstar. It's called Saturday Night 78. It is described thusly:

New York City, 1978. Last year, the city endured the chaos of the blackout of ‘77 and the terror of the Son of Sam killings. This year, Studio 54 makes millions by giving beautiful plebs and dazzling celebrities a place to party at $20 a head. Condensed sweat rains from Studio 54’s mirrored-laminate ceiling—sweat evaporated from the brows of celebrities, maybe—and falls back on the dancers below.

This is a time of rock and disco, of reckless hedonism and casual sex, a time before consequences. Debauchees high on blow, poppers, or Quaaludes dance and laugh and lust and cry in swank clubs and dirty dives all over the city. Whoever your characters are in the daylight, come dark they transform into sordid stars or disco royalty, beautiful disasters or pitiable victors, ricocheting off each other into the glittering wreckage of imploded parties. Every Saturday night the city’s alight with spectacular fiascos.

What's that you say? It sounds like an awesome setting that you'd like to use yourself? We've got you covered! You can download Saturday Night 78 for free right here, and use it in your very own Fiasco. And if you do, you know that I want to hear all about it in the comments.