10:24 p.m., MST
Not too much to report tonight. I sent another 8k to Zeitgeist games today, a 2 part story to help promo their Living Blackmoor Project. I'll let you know if they like it or hate it.

I know I've said it before, but it bears repeating. It's strange, being given room to write in Blackmoor. The setting is older than I am, so what right do I have to invent new people and places?

For me, it all comes back to respect. When given worlds and characters, we need to try to divine and intuit the "soul" of the story/world. Superman has always got to be Superman, and Batman has always got to be Batman.

Heh. How's that for sleepytime wisdom? :)

Jeff (Ashlock) got a gig doing work for Goodman Games, which is great news. With a little luck, he and I will be sharing a title together. We're still waiting for Chris and Chrissy to get back from their honeymoon. I hope they're doing well. And send Ed a little love if you have the time.

Catch Up Q&A
Kam asked a good question a little while back:

"Why would [Garrote] kill the only ally who had a chance to unlock the Star? Was he really just trying to lure Col into a duel? Can't wait for Part 3."

Well, these questions are due to poor writing, but you've probably guessed that by now. I made the choice to sacrifice exposition for momentum, but I may have gone too far.

Garrote was using the mage as a dupe to get at the Star. Sort of like using the halfling retainer to check for traps. The arrogant mage never suspected that a (gasp!) 1/2 orc could have been manipulating him, and believed that he was the master of his own destiny.

When the mage activated the gem, it set off two spell traps set by the Cabal:
The first teleported Col to the gem. The second made a grab for the mage's soul.

Put yourself in Garrote's shoes: your arrogant partner is getting his face ripped off by a gem, and -POOF- your arch-nemesis drops in for tea.

Time to chop heads and ask questions later. You take the most insane escape possible ("I'll flee into an army of ghouls!") trusting that "they'd have to be crazy to follow us."

Fortunately, it just so happened that Col was crazy enough to follow ... Cut to part III. :)

Sorry for the confusion, and I hope this clears up any questions. Although, with my writing skills, there are likely plenty of other plot holes that I'm missing. :)

And to answer Rachel's question:
I'll be dropping off H at the airport on Friday morning, and then I'll be headed up to the Fort. Rob has found a midnight showing of Casablanca, and then we are going to try to shoot some footage of the two of us falling down on concrete in skateparks.

And H's birthday is March 8. :)

You Promised Us the Doctor!
Sadly, I still haven't met Doctor Dre. But the story goes like this:

So for 14 days, I'd been working 10+ hours a day cooking for the X-Games. The chefs taught as we went, so that by the end, we peons were cooking for all 1000 of our best friends. Not a bad deal, if you're interested in learning about cooking and working hard.

Around Saturday we had 6" of fresh snow and grilled hamburgers were on the menu, so I was sent out to brush off the grill and fire up some burgers. Not a big deal, you might think, but in my mind I was in mortal danger of giving the entire ESPN crew some serious food poisoning. After all, I'm not a cook, I'm just the guy willing to get up at 3 in the morning and hustle.

But 1000 hungry camera men aren't going to wait forever for their burgers. I rev the grills up to speed and start flipping endless patties.

The way I saw it, I had two options: I could leave the burgers a little pink so that by the time they made it to the tables, they would be just right, or I could char them to a crisp, until there was no chance in Aspen or Hell that bacteria lurked inside.

Well, if you've spent any time with me and my paranoias, you know exactly which I chose:

Crisp it was.

Now think back to early 90's MTV, when it seemed like every rap video featured a backyard cookout, with a hundred brothers and sisters getting down on a Sunday afternoon. It wasn't long before my imagination kicked in and that's where I was. Massive X-Games speakers helped out, with a medley of rap and rock, and sure enough, along comes Doctor Dre over the speakers, assuring me that all we had to do was "run shit as if I was the mayor."

A few hours of this go by, and nobody sends any burgers back or drops dead of food poisoning. Our shift ends, and I head up the mountain to get some turns in.

A friend and I ride to the top of Aspen and bomb down the otherside, intent on getting two runs before they shut the place down. We get to the bottom of a run on the backside of Aspen and realize the lift isn't running. Even more strange, there are 20 or so folks hanging around an access road.

Of course, the lift is already closed. Me and my 21 best friends are stuck waiting for rides back to the main lift.

My buddy and I decide to hike it, rather than get chewed out by the ski patrol for missing a sign that clearly wasn't there. We walk for about a mile before coming across a trail "closed for the X-Games."

Not for us, it wasn't.

We cross over, drop down a gulley, and over a smallish cliff to find ourselves smack behind the X-Course, a monster terrain park designed to put the fear of God into little kids watching from home.

I already fear God, and we were fed up from 10 hours of cooking meat. So we drop in and ran the course, blasting past the patrols on our flight to the base of the mountain. We dodge the 20' gaps and drops in favor of a quick descent and a ride out into the parking lot.

We boot down, hop in the truck and are off in a flash.

Good night, y'all, and have a safe weekend. I'm thinking about you.


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