Savage Space

A couple months back, when the world was young and new, I had occasion – at my brother’s behest – to start a backup campaign for weeks when a couple of my players were unavailable. With her fibro, Kansas is something of a plague for Miss Jonikka, which makes her frequently unequal to sitting at her computer in an upright position for any period of time after work. And Brian is pretty much living at the epicenter of chaos with his job and recent move. So… yeah. Seemed like a reasonable request.

When I first started running Savage Worlds games back in the days of yore, before the Mayans tried to kill us all with diminishing numeration, I allowed my players to select our first adventure from a collection of available scenarios. Perhaps they were just in tune with my predilections, but they picked the space horror game. And that’s what we did.

With 3 of my 4 players now being fairly new to the game outside of some convention one-shots, I thought I’d go back to that well and pick something with a similar vibe. I sifted through my published adventures from the PEG Kickstarters and found Moon at the Edge of Oblivion. While I had to find ways to play up the horror element, the tense sci-fi adventure had a pretty solid premise that I felt would be easy to knock out in a couple of sessions. Which they did.

As always, I looked for opportunities to tie the episodic scenario into a big picture development, and the answer essentially fell into my lap. The principal foil in the scenario was an AI that was malingering in a derelict cruise ship. And my brother had been canny enough to provide us with a robotic PC. So naturally, when he happened to be the last person to interact with the ship’s systems, I had the AI jump into his system.

Last week we had a chance to revisit these characters, and I selected yet another published scenario – a one-sheet for The Last Parsec setting called Ghosts in the Machine – and parted it out a bit to fit my theme. We finished it up last night, and toward the end of the mission the AI made itself known to the PC who had been kind enough to bring it along and helped them – with strong encouragement, as it happens – escape the mine. And of course, it copied itself to the local system so it could hack into the alien tech that was taking the facility apart and use it for undisclosed chicanery.

While the horror elements were still pretty light, the players are now starting to imagine the possibilities of setting this rogue AI loose with a bunch of powerful new toys. At this point, it pretty much writes itself.

What I find intriguing is that this wasn’t the direction I had intended to go with game at the outset. The first scenario took place near a black hole, and I was going to introduce some seemingly supernatural BS to make everyone jumpy… but the vibe of that mission wasn’t really lending itself to that effect, and so I followed my players’ lead. Now I’m working with a far less mysterious villain, but I’ll go with the alien technology angle to give it some terrifying twists and turns.

I honestly haven’t put a ton of thought into it. It is, after all, a backup game that will only hit the table on occasion. Which is why I’ve used published scenarios thus far. But I, too, am starting to imagine the possibilities… and my imagination is informed by decades of scaring the pants off of players.

At this point, I have quite a collection.

Sojourn

I’m a smidge on the exhausted side. The good kind of exhausted, where you feel like the languishment is validated. Where you feel accomplished.

I took my daughter to Dodge with me yesterday to get her first tattoo. There was no question that we’d be making the trip to see her Uncle Brendon, and I think it was his recent move back to Kansas that cemented the plan in her mind. It wasn’t a big hairy deal – a small piece of art on her arm representing her bond with her kitty cat, who is pretty much the closest thing to a grandchild Jonikka and I are ever likely to have. And it was fun.

It’s a four-hour drive from Manhattan, so I wanted to make the trip worth it. After we got the ink, we stopped at the brewery for a bite to eat and then made our way back to my brother’s place to try setting up my new recording rig for his drum kit. We were just dialing in mics and testing the system, seeing how things sounded in the room, and getting some presets saved in my software… but it was worth the trip. Next time I go down – hopefully here in just a couple weeks – it’ll be to lay down some tracks on a couple of songs.

The journey to which I allude in my title, however, is not the trip to Dodge City, but rather the work on the current album.

Fans of the Tuesday Nite Blues Band know that we released our debut album in 2011, played a few shows to support it, and then kinda disappeared. It was a difficult time, and letting go wasn’t easy… I continue to be so very proud of that album. Between the composition, the performances, and the production work, it is easily the best-sounding musical project I’ve had the pleasure of being involved with. And it still sounds great today.

Over the years that followed, my focus shifted away from writing songs. I penned my first novel, which I published in 2018. I focused on work and family and education, dealt with a medical event that consumed the better part of a year, and then the world ground to a halt for a bit in 2020. You probably know why. And it was in that space that I finally found the drive to start writing music again.

The new album currently has 13 tracks in various phases of production. A couple of them are songs dating back to earlier years in my musical journey, but most of them were penned in the last five years. I’ve explored life in the wake of the pandemic, love, loss, the trials of getting older… it’s all in there. And once again, calling it a “blues” album would be disingenuous. We’re likely to indulge in some rebranding before we start sharing anything.

So here’s a funny thing. In the old days, when you recorded a band, you started with drums. Everything else needed to be laid on that foundation so the rhythm and timing elements could be matched up while layering other instruments. And many drummers, while excellently expressive and full of the right energy, are not necessarily the most reliable timekeepers. Songs might speed up and slow down as the energy of the song changes. Which, by the way, is fine.

As a matter of fact, a goodly number of classic compositions in rock ‘n roll history will defy a metronome more adamantly than you would guess.

My brother, however, has damned near perfect timing and rarely pushes or drags the tempo. This gives me the opportunity to lay down other parts first, recorded to a click. It’s a very liberating process, in that I can layer instruments and work on arrangements on my own time, and we were able to work on arrangements while we still lived 1500 miles apart. I have several arrangements with some scratch percussion recorded on his electric kit, but now its time for the real enchilada.

So this month we start laying down real drums on the album, coinciding with Bonnie’s vocal sessions and some additional piano and strings. It’s been nearly five years since I penned the bluesy rock track Nobody’s Home. In the years that followed, I laid down guitars and sent it to Drew for some quality BASS, shared it with Bonnie so we could workshop vocal arrangements, Anne to help me find the soul of the song with the piano in their parlor, and Brendon to lay down some rudimentary percussion. Now it’ll be one of the very first songs we wrap.

And then to Bullet Ride to see what we need to do to actually make it sound like it deserves.

And still I hesitate
Afraid to break the silence of my soul.
I know, this conversation’s getting old.
But if I take these reins
And break these chains
And make a change
My story will be told…

Yeah. It’s good.

A Shadow in the Mind

“May you live a thousand years…”

A blessing, not a curse. I remember having to look that up. Like… the sentiment seems generous on the surface, but you hardly have to spelunk very far to find potential subtext. Despite the superficial well-wishing generally borrowed by the phrase, precious few of us see even a century of life, and far too few of us even half that.

Thus, it seems imperative that I find a way to contextualize the first half-century of my life. My 50th birthday approaches in something like 11 days, and while I frequently watch my birthdays pass with little more than a friendly nod on the way by and seldom any significant fanfare, it seems incumbent upon me that this particular milestone be recognized.

I have surprisingly few regrets attached to this period of my life. My achievements include a fair number of things that bring me joy: loving wife and children, quality friends, artistic accomplishments, self-respect. Even a legacy of sorts in my hometown. Lots of good memories. I’ve managed to learn from most of my failures and avoided doing folks wrong wherever possible. I’ve taken care of others because it’s the right thing to do, and I’ve made an effort to love freely and without reservation.

I’ve come up short here and there. I’ve shifted careers three or four times and never reached high enough to satisfy the specter of my father’s perceived expectations (not a real thing, I know). I’ve remonstrated with myself over the education of my children. Like many people my age, I’ve breezed through a few relationships that I could have handled better. I’ve leaned heavily on my collaborators to try to more powerfully ignore my own shortcomings.

And if you’re my age, you know… the years just fly by. Fifty years really is a long damn time. It doesn’t feel like it nowadays, but it is. That’s the reason we all say that we’re getting old, or commiserate over feeling older, because it’s kind of a surprise if you’re not paying attention.

Tempus fugit. Time flies.

So how should I celebrate? Because I really think I should. Celebrate, that is. Not just give it the usual companionable nod, but somehow grab it’s sleeve and share a quick drink, at the very least. Many of my friends have already crossed this threshold, and maybe you had similar notions… or maybe you just beheld the befuddled grace of its tactless aerial display as it flew by. No judgment here, right? One thing we know by now… we’re all in this together. And none of us get out alive.

Heh. That’s trite, but still satisfying at some level.

How about… tempus est umbra in mente. Roughly, “time is a shadow in the mind.” Ran across that in a Stephen King novel recently. Stuck with me.