#so old code might clash with these things cause the update is big and there is lots of new code i get that

[prototypelq]

(sigh) oh to play with mods in 2024

so when a random tiny itty bitty simple hotfix comes along you are forced to update your game and now (1) of the hundred of the installed mods installed is broken and there is no way to know which one unless you painstakingly check them one by one and each check requires a reload of the entire game

like, I am very glad to know rain world is getting new stuff, that's great, but also please don't talk to me at the moment, I've spent an embarrassing amount of time on checking my mods and still haven't found the broken culprit I am mad right now

[secretgamergirl]

RPG Campaign Setting Thoughts - The Actual, You Know, Setting

Continuing along from here and here, I suppose I should take a moment and get my head out of the clouds with all this structure of the planes and metaphysics malarkey and put down a few words about, you know, the actual world people are going to be going on adventures in... but I don’t wanna!

I’m actually kinda serious with that. I’m still not sure to what degree this whole thing is something I’m really going to sit down and do something with vs. a total pipe dream vs. just some general thoughts on what changes I’d push towards if in a relevant position at a big company and all, but one really big issue I’d want to seriously address if I end up actually publishing anything here is the fact that everything about fantasy RPGs is entirely too white, and unfortunately, I myself am also entirely too white.

As previously mentioned, I 100% want to have orcs coded really heavily as colonialist European types as a major setting antagonist, to push back against decades of appallingly racist coding, and by extension I’d like to have humans who are visually and culturally representative of, you know, the rest of humanity. Some having to deal with orcs raiding and planting their flags everywhere, others totally not dealing with that and having their own much more interesting things going on. Get away from the stock imagery of castles and knights in a barely repainted England, get some cool stuff inspired the rest of the world in there as some basic imagery and all.

And... yeah I’m just not really qualified to do that. More importantly though, I know a ton of people who ARE, and they’re all super cool, and don’t get enough chances to do this sort of world-building. I don’t want to make my ignorant stab at a setting heavily informed by Indian history and folklore when I know someone who’s both an experienced game developer and a Hindu Pandit. I don’t want to play around with fantasy-Jerusalem when thinking about that is basically the life’s work of one of my favorite people in the world. I could keep going with this. I have a lot of really amazing contacts I would absolutely love to just give blank checks to to collaborate on a campaign setting full of all their personal passions and drawing on their heavy historical and cultural knowledge bases.

But... I’m also unemployed, barely able to keep a roof over my head, and fully aware how generally doomed any sort of project like this is and I doubt most of the people I’d be inclined to tap would want to commit to something like this even if I could pay them what they’re worth. Really, I’m the worst person to try to put together some sort of cool overqualified world-building all-stars team and make a setting together, and if someone else wants to take the initiative on that I am all for it, but, if they are nobody’s telling me. So... for now I’d just kinda like to keep the details really sketchy about specific nations and all that and stay focused on my weird non-culturally specific fantasy weirdness. Keep the real meat and potatos stuff in the dark until I get committed enough to kickstart a book and try to sign on cool writer friends as stretch goals or something.

Races for instance! I think I’ve mentioned before how much I just don’t like them, and I’m used to not really caing about them having done a lot of Pathfinder writing, but like Pathfinder, I kinda want to keep all this as backwards compatible with Pathfinder and 3.X as I can, which means I don’t want to drop them entirely, and I already have orcs. So... OK.What can I do with everything else that’s not just borrowing some real-world culture?

First off, we have dwarves. I.... really don’t particularly have any strong feelings about dwarves. The one big problem coming in the unfortunateness of “dwarf” referring to, among other things, the fantasy race, something a bit different in Norse mythology, and actual human beings with a rare condition that leads to a lot of discrimination. I’ve yet to meet anyone who actually has a vocal problem with that, so, please give me feedback there if you have any. Otherwise... I think dwarves kinda fall under “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it?” Dwarves are exactly the same in every game that has dwarves. Nobody’s had cause to put a new spin on them, which over the years has made them into this really big fantasy touchstone. Something to be said for that stability.

Next up we have elves... and OK, here’s my spin. Elves actually mature and age at the same rate as humans, BUT, every 30-70 years or so, they... basically have a Doctor Who regeneration. Big metamorphising event, they end up with a radically altered appearance, possibly some significant changes to their personality, possibly some memory loss. We keep the staple of elves being functionally immortal, and the sort of physical mutability present through the whole history of fantasy RPGs to one degree or another, but we get a nice out for the whole Immortal Blues issue you usually get with elves, where they outlive everyone they meet. If you’re a teenage elf, you can go hang out with a bunch of teenage humans, grow up together, have a lot of adventures, and then when everyone else is getting old and dying and it’s just depressing, you do your whole elven ritual of renewal thing, and tada. You’re young again, maybe a redhead this time out, maybe a different gender even. All that kinda fades from immediacy, like your old life is just a story you’ve heard a lot, and you’re free to go make new connections with new peers. I think there’s a lot to that as a foundation for cultural stuff, and an interesting setup for telling stories. Needs to be a proper racial power of course, with some restriction on how often it can be done, but hey. This also keeps them from becoming stuffy traditionalists with ancient cities. On a long enough timescale they’re kind of all nomadic drifters.

Half-Elves, which again, are their own race here, probably get a weakened version of that. Maybe they change a little less when they try that renewal ritual. Maybe it doesn’t always work, or it’s really unpredictable. Definitely they have a cap on how often they can do it, so you still have the long-lived but mortal thing going.

Half-Orcs... I need to think about some. The whole “they’re their own race” thing gets all the gross rape crap sweeped nicely away, but they still have to resemble orcs enough to face discrimination to a degree, since, that’s what you have half-orcs for. I might break my rule about no real world cultural models and have them largely stand in for vikings? There’s enough similarity to how I’m doing orcs for confusion’s sake (nautical raiders and explorers and all), an association with violence and generally being all big and tough, but pretty clear We’re Not With Them vibes?

Halflings, I am sticking with my earlier pitch about essentially being humans just created at a different scale. Honestly I’ve always kinda resented D&D even having them, because I mean, everything else has some basis in someone’s folklore, but halflings are just a race swiped directly out of a book series that was super popular at the time, then forced to change the name for copyright reasons. And they clearly just exist to make Bilbo expies, with the stealth bonuses and all. I would totally give them the boot if I could get away with it, but, yeah, tiny humans essentially.

That still leaves gnomes, where I’m still stymied. Again, I really love Pathfinder’s take on them to death, and kinda just want to keep that.

I think that’s a decent spread of new ideas and old ideas that won’t clash with properly varied human culture, right? Next update I’m probably going back to gods and magic. Have some very very nerdy thoughts about the spread of religion based on bored wizards working out astral projection to flesh out.

As always, feedback on any of this is appreciated.

[rockinrpmemes]

Shrek the Musical (2013) meme

Adjust/change pronouns to fit your muse!!

It was a pretty nasty place, but he was happy because [ogres] like nasty.

We’re ugly, that’s why the world hates us.

It's a big bright beautiful world, with happiness all around.

It's peaches and cream, and every dream comes true... but not for you.

I party on my own anyway, doin' what I can with a 1-man conga line!

Keep your big bright beautiful world! I'm happy where I am, all alone.

Your big bright beautiful world is all teddy bears and unicorns, take your fluffy fun, and shove it where the sun don't shine!

Sure, I'm fated to be lonely, and I'm destined to be hated.

If you read the books about me, they say it's why I was created.

Being liked is grossly overrated!

I always dreamed I’d get a ‘ever after,’ if this is it? It BLOWS!

A torturous existence?? I don’t remember this part!

I know, he'll appear, ‘cause there are rules and there are strictures.

I believe the storybooks I read by candlelight.

My white knight and his steed will look just like these pictures!

There's a princess, any princess, take your pick, they're all like me.

I’m still waiting, and they’re out living ‘happily.’

‘Ever After’ better get here, I want love in seconds flat!

I'm a vandal now as well, hope he won't mind?

I'm a find, I'm a catch, and a very gifted bowler!

Don't make waves, stay in line, and we'll get along fine.

We all have our standards, but I will have perfection.

Thanks to my new dress code, the fashion's never clashing.

We make one mistake, and we get the rack!

Oh what the heck, I must confess I love a road trip!

He's as chatty as a parrot, more annoying than a mime.

Oh look, a sign! ‘Yunita Pal Avenue’ straight ahead!

This ass of mine is asinine, why ME?

I didn't see no ‘Open House’ sign, is this is a Trick or Treat?!

You need to brush up on fairytales, friend.

My, what big teeth you have, they're so... sparklin' white.

I like a girl with a dazzlin' smile and tic-tac on her breath.

This is how I pictured you: climbing in to rescue me, this was always meant to be.

Ah jeez, I'm like a crack pot magnet!

Shut-in girls are delicate!

I've longed for this my whole life long, now you're doing it all wrong!

Say your affirmations and love will come to you!

Pink ponies, happy sky, pink ponies, happy sky--Oh my God we're gonna die!

I'd write a verse, recite a joke, with wit and perfect timing.

I'd share my heart, confess the things I yearn, and do it all while rhyming.

I could be a poet and write a different story, one that tells of glory and wipes away the lies.

Of course I'd be a hero, and I would scale a tower to save a hot-house flower!

Standing guard would be a beast, I'd somehow over whelm it.

I'd get the girl, I'd take my breath, and I'd remove my helmet.

We'd stand and stare, we'd speak of love, we'd feel the stars ascending. 

I'd find my destiny and I'd have a hero's ending, a perfect happy ending!

What a lovely day... the sun's so big it hurts my eyes!

Last night I was a monster, but this morning I'm ok!

I've heard better I'm just saying, ‘A’ for effort thanks for playing.

No warm regards, no Christmas cards, and every day was Hell on earth!

My dad and mom sent me away--- it was my birthday.

Twenty years I sat and waited, I'm very dedicated.

I think  got you beat, YEAAAAAH.

On the walls the days were added, luckily those walls were padded!

Daddy didn't talk much, he barely said hello.

He'd simply mutter "Heigh ho", and off to work he'd go.

My momma was a princess who left her crown behind.

She married way beneath her... beneath her knee, I mean.

Me and my old man, a tale as old as dirt: a bitter distant father in a tiny undershirt.

It's total domination with some torture just for fun, hee hee!

There’s something going on around here, I've been watching and the signals are clear.

With a giggle and a flip of her hair, I smell the pheromones in the air...

They need my help here in setting the mood.

You got to make a move and don't be afraid!

Reach for her hand and maybe give her a kiss, she's waiting for a move to be made!

I know you can't hear me right now, but if you could, I would want to say a few things to you, like: I am in your corner buddy.

You have got to tell that girl what you are feeling deep down, you may not get another chance.

You got to shift into gear! You got to buckle down and give it a whirl!

The scene is set right out of a book: with a sunset and a beautiful girl.

When words fail, how will she know how I feel?

You remind me of that moon, because it's big and bright.

And by big I don't mean chubby---Obviously you're not fat.

Your personality is piggish, is what I meant by that.

Sorry 'bout that fat thing, I'm on the hefty side myself!

Do I have a snowball's chance? Are my prospects just too grim?

I spent my life stuck in the mud, now I'm crawling out on a limb.

If words fail, she'll know what I mean.

If words fail, she'll just take my hand.

She sees me like no one else has... If words fail, she'll understand.

Can't you take a hint, am I getting through at all? Just get outta here!!

I was told the world would despise me, so I should have known.

I thought these two might be different, well now I know, they're just like all the rest.

You're looking for a monster, it's your lucky day, I’ll be what you want!

What a fool to think she might love me, I opened my heart and let her walk through.

Gonna build me a wall, a perfect place to hide--hey world, stay on your side!

The best way to conquer they say is to divide.

Gonna build a wall, gonna be what they say, gonna harden my heart.

We spend our whole lives wishing we weren't so freakin' strange.

It's they who need to change--the way they *think*, that is.

Sing:  ‘hey world, I'm different, and here I am splinters and all!’

We've got magic, we've got power, who are they to say we're wrong?

All the things that make us special, are the things that make us strong!

Let your freak flag fly! Never take it down!

What you so fondly are told isn't always so, there's more to the story.

If true love is blind, maybe you won't mind the view?

I know I'm not the handsome prince for whom you waited...

I don't have a fancy castle, and I'm not sophisticated.

You've never read a book like this, but fairytales should really be updated.

It's a big bright beautiful world, I see it now, I'll let it in. 

I'll tear down a wall and clear a spot for two... to be with you.

I waited all my life, lived it by the book, now I know that's not my story.

You take me as I am, love me as I look.

I am sweetness, I am bratty, I'm a princess, I'm a fatty. I'm a mess of contradictions in a dress!

When I'm with you, I am happy.

We make a perfect pair: radiant and rude.

You laugh at all my jokes, even though they're crude, you don't mind that I'm not classy.

We are different and united: you are us, and we are you.

[bothsandneithers]

Day 2775

To arrive at this particular gas station: Take i-25 past Ikea, through Castle Rock, Colorado Springs and Pueblo, and then turn right onto the old i-25 to Walsenburg. Here, like in most other gas stations and grocery stores in Colorado, you can now purchase full-strength beer -- as opposed to the prohibition era “three-two beer” (3.2% alcohol by weight), which used to be the only permissible beer sold outside of liquor stores. But, while the change in legislation was state-wide, not all gas stations carry a particular Apricot Ale beer that I like.

The guy behind the cash register reacted similarly when he saw it, “I love this stuff! I used to buy it in Denver!”

“Yeah! That’s where I’m coming from!” I said, with enthusiasm that surprised me. Though this trip wasn’t motivated by a recent fallout with the city of Denver, a planned three days of solitude happened to dovetail nicely with mounting disappointment of the recent election.

A few years before state lawmakers updated the alcohol laws in Colorado, Denver implemented an “urban camping ban” that prohibits tarps, sleeping bags and tents in public -- in effect, criminalizing someone who puts a blanket over themselves trying to stay warm, and in turn, making it illegal to experience homelessness.

That sounds cruel. I want to think that most people I know would agree.

However, most residents didn’t vote to repeal the ordinance when they had the opportunity to do so this month. Instead, only 19% of us did, making me wonder: Do a small number of us just conceptualize human rights differently than the rest?

It is also worth noting that the mayor that signed the ordinance into law has credible accusations of sexual harassment against him, but still managed to receive more votes than any other candidate in this present election.

It seems, then, that the voters of Denver, though critical towards the national political landscape, recalibrated their moral code for which they hold laws and politicians to at a local level. And, I’m not shy to decry this hypocrisy in public places.

One such locale in which I rebuked the “classist rhetoric” of supporting the urban camping ban was while standing in the vestibule of the Whole Foods, a place that has its own classist implications, ranging from the upscale prices (preventing many from being able to afford its food) to the powerful, seemingly above-the-law conglomerate owning it (which paid no federal income taxes in 2018, for example). This juxtaposition of not affording food and being too big to fail nicely signifies late stage capitalism, where people have too little and corporations have too much. Yet, I still choose to spend my money there, in turn doing my part in sustaining the mechanisms that spur on inequality.

Even though my friend graciously did not call me out on my unfortunate setting for my diatribe, the discomfort felt in our silence would have been eased by someone coming onto the intercom and saying, “HEY! You’re part of it!” Overturning money tables while simultaneously making a Venmo request for Matthew to pay you back for lunch dampens the cause: Let’s fix you, as long as the solution ensures that I still have mine.

And with that, I shirked out of town with my frustration and complicitness in tow.

After you stop at the gas station in Walsenburg, you drive for a little while and you get to the vistas of the Spanish Peaks, which takes you over a friendly mountain pass, and on the descent you turn left instead of going straight. As you continue on the narrow and hilly road, the mountains are mostly in the rear view mirror, with some smaller hills in the periphery. Silhouettes of canyons and the desert are in the foreground, but it’s still green near the Rio Grande, and its affiliate rivers and streams.

And that’s where I stayed, to inhale fiction and sleep without listening to the sounds of ongoing traffic or thinking about bizarre moral arguments for how those without homes should live, and how much harassment is a negligible amount.

What I didn’t expect, but what always ends up being a terrifying treat, was a pack, or packs, of yelping coyotes.

If you are anything like me, this is how you might interpret the event: It is always disorienting when you first hear these cries, as they jolt you out of sleep. It sounds like a middle school slumber party gone wrong -- as if twelve children are screaming as they are running out of a house on fire. But then there is a shift in perception, and these panicked screams no longer seem to be coming from humans, but retain a fuller, non-human quality, which has been described as all of the following: “a bark, flat howl, yip, yipe, short howl, warble, laugh, irregular howl, scream, and gargle.” And, whatever the creatures may be, they are no longer a herd of victims, but rather a gang of perpetrators.

Finally, things begin to make sense, and you realize that these sounds are probably coming from coyotes. Now, they are no longer villains, but merely communicating in a way that is unusual but admittedly very effective. Unwittingly, you are brought into a moment of nature, in which you feel small and vulnerable, and part of some larger ecosystem that you are otherwise and unfortunately, completely out of tune with.

If someone asked you if there were three coyotes or fifteen, you might not be able to accurately discern the count. And there’s research to back it up: There tends to be a misperception that coyotes are more abundant than they actually are [1].

I actually didn’t drink any of the beer that I bought. Instead, it was a strange, affectatious burden that I carried around with me, keeping it in a cooler with a bag of ice that was slowly melting. But I wished that the ice would melt a lot faster, when I returned to my car, waterless, from a desert trail run.

I poked a tiny hole in the bag of ice, and tried to center it into my empty water bottle to collect what pooled water there was. When a handful of droplets were successfully transferred out of the bag, I would then smash the plastic bottle into my dust soaked face and then repeated the process. I imagined that I looked desperate, and a couple in a passing car confirmed it. They gently pulled up next to me. “Um, can we offer you some water?” The woman asked, as she grabbed a half-empty gallon of water from her back seat. “I think your water will be much colder, but you can have this water right now.”

Without first checking with the social conventions, I took her water and poured it into my smashed bottle. “Thank you so much!” I quipped, “I feel as if I am in one of those comics -- with the guy who is always stranded on the island -- and all he has is an ice block that won’t melt!”

What?

The car of kind strangers generously smiled, but my imagined scenario is not cartoon material, even if a stranded man on an island is a common backdrop in The New Yorker. It is not funny. Ice melts.

It's okay that I'm not always funny. For the most part, I have actually grown comfortable with some amount of distance between between my perceptions and reality: my jokes aren’t always good and the number of coyotes are difficult to estimate when you can’t see them. But, every once in a while, I am still stunned -- floored, really -- when my reality clashes with those around me, especially when we are used to being floored together, in unison against whatever state, group or movement that is collectively disappointing us.

I don’t know what to do about this. But I do know that I should have offered the kind strangers beer as a token of gratitude; it’s no secret that I had more than I needed. But I didn’t. I was too busy drinking down what was now mine.

https://digitalcommons.usu.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?referer=https://www.google.com/&httpsredir=1&article=1411&context=hwi ↩

Amy