Monday, June 16, 2014

Thursday, May 8, 2014

The Queen's Cavaliers Kickstarter Is Live

With my son's baseball team deep in the playoff chase and All Stars just around the corner, I failed to notice that The Queen's Cavaliers Kickstarter is live at last.

Since it's already fully funded, that early backer excitement and mystery is put to bed, unfortunately, but hey, sometimes a sure thing is just what you're looking for.

Given Caoimhe's track record and the way she's approached this project to date, I'll put my own rep on the line and say. unlike so many other crowd-sourced roleplaying game projects, this is a no-risk Kickstarter - you'll get exactly what you back, and in a timely fashion.

Thursday, March 13, 2014

Fate and The Princess Bride

There's a thread on Big Purple right now about using Fate to model the duel between Westley and Inigo atop the Cliffs of Insanity.

It makes Fate sound as much fun as doing my taxes.

Ever see something out of the corner of your eye that grabs your attention, but when you look straight at it, it's nothing like what you thought you saw? That's Fate for me. It's a game I really want to like, but whenever I read the rules, or an actual play report, all I hear in my head is gears grinding.

Tuesday, October 22, 2013

"Not with a bang but a whimper"

When I set out to create my blog, one of my goals was to write something every day, to establish Really Bad Eggs as a source of inspiration for roleplaying gamers interested in swashbucklers and to hone such writing skills as I possess. Writing every day was a real challenge, and even composing a substantial post three or four times a week proved to be difficult.

Since the spring of this year, even maintaining this modest output proved very difficult, not for a lack of ideas and topics - there are some fifty partially completed posts sitting in my queue as I type this, and dozens more ideas floating around in my head - but simply because the time I used for writing was devoted to other things, primarily keeping up with the Cabin Girl and the Cabin Boy's array of activities, but also a growing social circle of families. One of the unexpected benefits of participating in youth arts and sports is the other parents you meet; I've been fortunate to make some good friends in the process. As a happy consequence, what free time I have fills even more quickly.

Even maintaining my desultory pace of posting is difficult. There are only so many hours in the day, and in prioritising that day, blogging simply doesn't rank highly on the list. What time I have to devote to gaming I want to devote to my campaign directly: keeping up my wiki, which is badly in need of updating and expanding, as well as playing by email in the months between when we can play face-to-face or via Skype. Put another way, playing is more important than writing about playing, given my constraints.

I've pulled back from the handful of forums where I participate as well; those are an even worse time-sink than blogging, and with far less to show for the effort.

This is not good bye; as I said, I have far too much that I still want to address. What it is is the recognition that Really Bad Eggs will, for the foreseeable future, be relegated to the status of an occasional pastime.

Sunday, October 13, 2013

The Pen and the Sword: Treasure Island

At last in strode the captain, slammed the door behind him, without looking to the right or left, and marched straight across the room to where his breakfast awaited him.

"Bill," said the stranger, in a voice that I thought he had tried to make bold and big.

The captain spun round on his heel and fronted us; all the brown had gone out of his face, and even his nose was blue; he had the look of a man who sees a ghost, or the evil one, or something worse, if anything can be; and, upon my word, I felt sorry to see him, all in a moment, turn so old and sick.

"Come, Bill, you know me; you know an old shipmate, Bill, surely," said the stranger.

The captain made a sort of gasp.

"Black Dog!" said he.

"And who else?" returned the other, getting more at his ease. "Black Dog as ever was, come for to see his old shipmate Billy, at the 'Admiral Benbow' inn. Ah, Bill, Bill, we have seen a sight of times, us two, since I lost them two talons," holding up his mutilated hand.

"Now, look here," said the captain; "you've run me down; here I am; well, then, speak up: what is it?"

"That's you, Bill," returned Black Dog, "you're in the right of it, Billy. I'll have a glass of rum from this dear child here, as I've took such a liking to; and we'll sit down, if you please, and talk square, like old shipmates."

When I returned with the rum, they were already seated on either side of the captain's breakfast-table—Black Dog next to the door, and sitting sideways, so as to have one eye on his old shipmate, and one, as I thought, on his retreat.

He bade me go and leave the door wide open. "None of your keyholes for me, sonny," he said; and I left them together, and retired into the bar.

For a long time, though I certainly did my best to listen, I could hear nothing but a low gabbling; but at last the voices began to grow higher, and I could pick up a word or two, mostly oaths, from the captain.

"No, no, no, no; and an end of it!" he cried once. And again, "If it comes to swinging, swing all, say I."

Then all of a sudden there was a tremendous explosion of oaths and other noises—the chair and table went over in a lump, a clash of steel followed, and then a cry of pain, and the next instant I saw Black Dog in full flight, and the captain hotly pursuing, both with drawn cutlasses, and the former streaming blood from the left shoulder. Just at the door, the captain aimed at the fugitive one last tremendous cut, which would certainly have split him to the chine had it not been intercepted by our big signboard of Admiral Benbow. You may see the notch on the lower side of the frame to this day.

That blow was the last of the battle. Once out upon the road, Black Dog, in spite of his wound, showed a wonderful clean pair of heels, and disappeared over the edge of the hill in half a minute. The captain, for his part, stood staring at the signboard like a bewildered man. Then he passed his hand over his eyes several times, and at last turned back into the house.

- Treasure Island, Robert Louis Stevenson