Friday, August 14, 2009
Tiles and Miniatures - prep for the neighbor's final game
Below are some images of dungeon tiles and miniatures I have readied for my neighbor's kid's last game (I'm moving to LA so our 2 year D&D campaign is coming to an end). I made the tiles by printing out sheets from the back of the 4th Edition D&D DMG and pasting them on top of foam core.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Draft 1: Maker's Conundrum
How will it begin...
Well, the difficulty is that the beginning is always forgotten. Or perhaps the beginning isn't ever perceived, since in the beginning there is nothing to relate to. No one ever remembers the moment when they were born, they just gradually begin to perceive that they exist - after much accordance with their surroundings and much agreement upon the terms of existence. It is a peculiar way to become a part of things.
For Robert J. Pelgreen existence here began on hilltop. He was staring at planes contemplating choices, then slowly he became aware of where he was. In remembrance, he assumes there was a sky, green grassy hills and some birds flying above the farm fields of a nearby village, but it was honestly a blur and it didn't feel like the very beginning - just where he began to remember some things. He thought of the memory as the feeling you might have if you and your mirror image had just traded places, only to stare at each other again once you did. He remembers heaving and puking. He remembers looking out at the planes and viewing the world as if existence was in duet with his personal desires, where neither source could usurp the other, but instead just became something all its own.
He didn't remember traveling to the nearby village, he always assumed he just walked there from the hill, he remembered feeling like he had walked too. He couldn't figure out which hill in the valley it was, where he began. The first thing he came upon in the village was his own reflection in a glass window. All too clearly he could see his own brown eyes, his short brown hair and some stubble on his face. He was in his mid twenties.
Well, the difficulty is that the beginning is always forgotten. Or perhaps the beginning isn't ever perceived, since in the beginning there is nothing to relate to. No one ever remembers the moment when they were born, they just gradually begin to perceive that they exist - after much accordance with their surroundings and much agreement upon the terms of existence. It is a peculiar way to become a part of things.
For Robert J. Pelgreen existence here began on hilltop. He was staring at planes contemplating choices, then slowly he became aware of where he was. In remembrance, he assumes there was a sky, green grassy hills and some birds flying above the farm fields of a nearby village, but it was honestly a blur and it didn't feel like the very beginning - just where he began to remember some things. He thought of the memory as the feeling you might have if you and your mirror image had just traded places, only to stare at each other again once you did. He remembers heaving and puking. He remembers looking out at the planes and viewing the world as if existence was in duet with his personal desires, where neither source could usurp the other, but instead just became something all its own.
He didn't remember traveling to the nearby village, he always assumed he just walked there from the hill, he remembered feeling like he had walked too. He couldn't figure out which hill in the valley it was, where he began. The first thing he came upon in the village was his own reflection in a glass window. All too clearly he could see his own brown eyes, his short brown hair and some stubble on his face. He was in his mid twenties.
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