Craft Wondrous Mixtape

Some thought it inevitable, others impossible - tasteless even, but the proof is in the well-produced pudding: I recently won a mix tape competition among roughly a dozen of my colleagues. This, in spite of (and it turns out, thanks to) my appreciation for metal and all things nerdy.

I have three general rules about music. If a song includes:

1. Vocals that sound painful,

2. A guitar solo, and/or

3. Rock organ

I am almost certain to like it. If it has neither, it's working at a disadvantage.

This is apparently an opinion shared by Anastasia Pantsios, former music critic for the Cleveland Scene and current Contributor/Brilliant Judge of Goodness at OhioDailyBlog.com, which is packed full of relevant political goodies and life lessons. Anastasia found my mix to be "artfully blended," and I'm only out fifty bucks for all of the good press! Thank you to Anastasia for her diligence and willingness to listen to all of the entries. If you're interested in hearing the mix, you can stream it here. Anyway, check out this awesome comic to the left and the third entry in Arthur Monroe's tale below.

Entry 3

With time, the summer took shape around me and the sun grew ever present, burning at the shadows that hid my fearful search from the villagers. Lamps and candles burned dogs’ tallow and oils whose acrid fumes mingled with the musk of adrenaline to nauseating effect. I was in frightful condition; emaciated and miserable enough to blend in with the throngs of hellish creatures that I dared wade through down the directionless avenues of limbo. Never before had I been so reckless nor so desperate.

For a time, the Hound had seemed a willing mentor. It shared secrets with me and asked reasonable tasks in return-mostly using me to gather items from this world. Ivory pieces, a golden relic stolen from a church, sprigs of autumn flora, ashes from a funeral pyre; some mundane and some terrific, I was always willing to bring what it sought in order to learn one more terrible secret. I realize now, that I have paid a terrible price for each.

Arthur Monroe Continues...

Entry 2

There were countless preparations to make. I first suspended heavy satin tapestries over the walls and door – each with unique and ancient markings, which writhed and melted into one another behind dancing mists of incense. Unfathomably intricate shapes flowed up the sturdy threadwork like thirsting rivers reaching for the rain filled summit of a mountain. At the ceiling they merged with the circular pattern on yet another cloth- a perfect square of porous silk, permitting unseen stars beams to permeate both wood and cloth above and settle on the markings that I scrawled below. My markings ought not be recorded here, for fear of discovery by someone of lesser will or talent, but they were made from the bone white ashes of burning sandalwood on a charred plane of slate.

Throughout the springtime, I repeated this process of preparing and dismantling my chamber, slowly exhausting my supplies. I spent uncounted hours searching through darkness and fire, but could not find the Thing that I had grown to rely on so dearly. I sought each of my usual informants and extracted every unpaid favor that I could from the devils. I commanded and bargained, I tricked and bribed, and I wondered in feverish panic. I could scarcely sleep at night, nor eat more than was absolutely necessary. I grew too weak even to conjure the petty exploits and effulgent ruses that Dianne loved so much.

Where was my brooding contact? Where was my teacher, my patron, my master?

Role Playing: The Value of Your Character's Background

There is no question in my mind that a good back story is one of, if not the most important element of creating a character in D&D or any other role playing game. It can frame motivations and behaviors, set the tone for your character's interaction with others (hopefully in fresh, if not gamechanging ways), and most importantly for me: it provides a self-controlled medium in which to craft the budding romances and tragedies of your character. When I'm feeling inspired, playing through an adventure or module is about more than the culmination of another quest; it is the addition of a new chapter in the growing mythology of a character that I've already begun to fall in love with.

It was in this spirit, while under the influence of a collection of Lovecraft short stories and a noir run of Madame Xanadu, that I began to entertain the seeds of a dark and sorrowful character whose shortsighted, morbid curiosities would leave him a shaken husk in the hot, mystic winds of self destruction and remorse.

I decided to embrace the serialized essense of my inspiration and release a couple paragraph's of my upcoming character's back story to my D&D group every day or so. I'll admit flat out that I failed utterly in doing so due to procrastination, and ended up emailing it all at once about an hour before playing. Here, however, I have the opportunity to start fresh with a larger - if nonexistent - audience.

Over the next couple weeks, I'll release small segments with hope that they offer enough suspense to pull the reader back through the conclusion of the tenth and final entry. At that point, I'd love to discuss best practices, etc.

Without further ado:

Entry 1,

My name is Arthur Monroe, and it was on an oppressively humid summer evening that my experience, and the cause for this account, began. My wife and I had recently moved to a small village a day’s travel from Haversford. Being the first woman in town able to read or work numbers, Dianne found work at once as an instructor and aide to the local marm. Owing to her rare skills and charm, it was mere days before she was an adored member of our new community, leaving me time and privacy to engage in my own studies.

Our residence consisted of a small plot with humble improvements. It’s only uncommon feature came in the form of a small structure in the rear, shaded by our home in the morning and by the bordering woods in the evening. Roughly seven feet in width, length, and height, it was perpetually hidden from the world’s view, which suited me perfectly, given the arcane nature of my work. I had long been on the road, and it had been weeks since I had spoken with the Hound.