Dream Project: SLY COOPER

I spoke last week about dream projects and my desire to reboot Army of Two. As I said then, that beloved bro-op shooter isn’t the only game series I’d love to bring back into the light. Another one that sits very high on the perch is Sly Cooper.

This iconic anti-hero is more of a treasure panda than a trash panda.

Set in a world of anthropomorphic animals, the original Sly Cooper follows the titular character—a raccoon thief who comes from a long line of such—and his buddies, Bentley the super smart turtle and Murray, a lovable hippo with more muscle than brainpower. As the series evolved, more characters—many playable—were added including love interest and foil Carmelita Fox, a police detective, and a veritable gaze of Sly’s ancestors.

Sly Cooper and the Thievius Raccoonus kicked off the series in 2002. Developed by the excellent Sucker Punch and published by Sony, it was—for obvious reasons—a PlayStation 2 exclusive. (This fact lent considerable weight when I later made the decision to jump into that console generation.) Players took on the role of the three main characters as Sly sets out to retrieve the pages of the thievius raccoonus, his family’s handbook on all things thieving, from a cadre of villains including a crafty bullfrog, a powerlifting bulldog, a mystic alligator, a fire-flinging panda, and the half-machine/half-owl head of the Fiendish Five, Clockwerk.

The game introduced the core gameplay of sneaking around good-sized maps, thwacking heavies with your crook, and picking the pockets of unsuspecting guards. Mission to mission, you revisit these maps, exploring new areas, confronting new challenges, and finding precious collectibles. The mix of enemies and opportunities—and that iconic “sneaky noise”—laid down a great formula on how to make a game about stealing stuff.

The game spawned three sequels. Band of Thieves and Honor Among Thieves quickly followed on the PlayStation 2. These games built on the origin with bigger maps, more abilities, and an escalating threat. The games were ported to the PlayStation 3 as the Sly Collection in 2010. The final game, Sly Cooper: Thieves in Time, capped off the series three years later on for that same system as well as the Vita. (The main character also got a Funko POP! which isn’t, like, rare these days but it still real cool and, yes of course, I have one.)

Filled with tight stealth gameplay, bright and beautiful art direction, complex but sensible level design, whimsical dialogue, brilliant sound design, and great voice acting, the Sly Cooper series is an easy recommendation.

What’s not so easy is finding them. A few years ago, I signed up for the top PlayStation Plus tier just so I could play Thieves in Time. At least I didn’t have to break into some mechanical bird’s stronghold to grab a copy.

The Sly Cooper series blends the best of comic book thieving with afternoon cartoon visuals. Sly, Bentley, and Murray are a perfect trio in their attitudes as well as aptitudes. From sneaking into well-guarded fortresses to protecting Murray as he tries to get into top secret areas to hacking datafortresses as a digitized turtle, the games offered up a nice variety of gameplay. As new characters were added into the series, you employed new skills in new levels against bigger and badder challenges. The games had a clear vision of their strengths and built on them with each installment.

Sly Cooper is a colorful, fun, all ages stealth-action game featuring anthropomorphic creatures straight out of a cartoon and it is prime for a comeback. Not to be immodest but I think I have a pretty cool angle for just such a venture. It’s a concept I’ve dabbled with numerous times over the years because even playing make-believe in that world makes me happy. Unfortunately, I’ve never been able to make the connections necessary to have the conversations you need to have to make something like that happen.

Rumors of a Sly Cooper 5 have popped up numerous times over the years with no official confirmation. I hope Sly gets a chance to return. Obviously, I would love to be involved—this is a dream project after all—but I’d be happy just to play. I’ll take any opportunity to jump back into a world that stole my heart over twenty years ago.

Stole my heart…and some comically-large coins.

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Dream Project: ARMY OF TWO

Dream projects are the blessing and the curse of the creative mind. Dream projects aren’t just things you want to do; they’re ideas that keep coming back to you over and over again. Ideas that get the heart and mind racing. Ideas that call to you like the setting sun, that promise a sense of accomplishment and fulfillment like no other. Ideas that make you go, “If I can do this, I’ll have done something.”

As with most creators I know, I have more dream projects than I have time left on this planet to do them. From original concepts to licenses I long to realize to beloved properties I feel are ready for revival, I am not lacking for ideas when it comes to dream projects.

That said, some of those ideas stand taller than others. Those are the special ones. The ones that get the ol’ mind factory working overtime. The ones I would throw down my tools to help bring into this world.

One of those ideas–one that has a nasty habit of preoccupying my hippocampus for long stretches of time–is rebooting Army of Two.

Tyson Rios and Elliot Salem form the Beast with Two Fronts.

Army of Two is a cooperative third-person shooter that megapublisher EA put out back in 2008. Unlike a lot of coop shooters, “cooperative play” wasn’t just a bullet-point. It was the game’s raison d’etre. From the Aggro system of drawing heat away from your partner to special coop moves like the one featured in the image above to impromptu roshambo in the middle of the battlefield, the game’s driving premise was clearly evident.

Army of Two was born of the same initiative that gave the world Mirror’s Edge and Dead Space. It was followed by two sequels, The 40th Day and The Devil’s Cartel, as well as graphic novels, action figures, and other tie-ins.

I was so stoked for the original Army of Two to come out. I hung on every preview. I remember racing to GameStop to pick up my preorder and having the game taunt me all day on my desk until I could go home to play. I finished the campaign numerous times. I recall staying up way too late with the DLC trying to get every achievement during the alternate Dalton boss fight ending from the Veteran Map Pack.

I remember advancing one room ahead on my save and locking my coop partner from getting into my game. An event that became a running joke (I hope?) for years to come.

I was just as excited when the sequel got announced and I have so many fond memories of the fictional Shanghai from running out of a towering inferno to racing through the zoo. It really ramped up the sense of urgency and adding moral choices where players made decisions that had interesting (if shallow) ramifications.

The third game changed things up by replacing the main characters of Rios and Salem with player stand-ins codenamed Alpha and Bravo. Running through the streets of a wartorn Mexico felt more like an arcade shooter with after-action reports between levels.

I absolutely love all three games. Though they share a common core as coop-focused third-person shooters, each stands apart from the globe-hopping origin story of the first to the growing tension along the midpoint to the tragic reveal at the end of the last game.

It’s been eleven years since the world has seen a new Army of Two game. During that time, the gaming paradigm has shifted but, with the successes of campaign-based cooperative shooters like The Division, the new Ghost Recon games, Helldivers 2, and the venerable Gears series, I think there is more than enough space for a reboot. And, to be absolutely frank, I would love to lead the effort. Keeping the core concept intact while bringing in learnings and innovations from the past decade-plus, I think a new Army of Two could be something truly special.

Alas, the fate of Army of Two is not mine to decide. The folks at EA need to make that call. I hope they do. If not me, I hope they find someone just as passionate as I am to lead the effort. I hope it satisfies us long-time fans while bringing in a new generation of folks who are down for a dark yet funny, gritty yet flashy cooperative shooter that puts cooperative on the same level as shooter.

You feel me, bro?

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Just Played: PAJAMA SAM

Not all heroes wear capes. But a lot do.
Not all heroes wear capes. But a lot do.

I just finished the first three Pajama Sam games. I was 20 when the first game came out and didn’t do any real PC gaming until later so I never played them. I remember seeing the boxes on the shelves of the Kmart I worked at though so I was familiar with the series.

I’m basically just seeking comfort these days and the idea of a funny point-and-click aimed at kids sounded right up my alley. I had no idea what I was missing. I totally get why those who played the games back when speak so highly of them.

I want to put down some thoughts on what stood out to me. This won’t be long or detailed–my brain is begging for this post to be a few thousand words–but I hope to hit the highlights.

FUNNY AND ENGAGING
Pajama Sam is genuinely funny. Each story launches a simple premise toward inspired absurdity. The first game starts with Sam getting tucked into bed for his first night sleeping with the light off. His quest to overcome his nervousness launches him into a world of make-believe where he meets a boat who’s afraid of water, a carrot plotting a rescue mission for his brethren trapped in the refrigerator, and a Tic-Tac-Toe-obsessed wedge of cheese. Each game oozes imaginative concepts.

INTERACTIVITY EVERYWHERE
Each scene is packed with one-off interactions and gags. If the arrow turns solid when over something, CLICK. You will be rewarded. A lamp may turn into a flower on the first click and a set of spinning helicopter blades on the next. Maybe a bug will come out and do a little soft shoe. There is so much happening in each scene that you won’t want to rush through.

WORLD FEELS ALIVE
Characters greet Sam when he enters the room. Some will be reacting to something the player initiated in another scene. Sure, many times characters are idle–of course they are–but they’re active enough that the world doesn’t feel static. The narrative supports this with lines that advance often and have a good variety of alts.

REPLAYABLE
Objectives can be in different locations with different obstacles. Collectibles can spawn in different spots. There are optional mini-games to find. After completing each game, I looked up walkthroughs and saw things I never encountered. I wanted to dive back in and find everything.

SURPRISINGLY SUBVERSIVE
A vegetable lecturing on being a political prisoner. A “chair man” of the “board” (quotes to denote the words are literal here). A mine cart struggling with the state of its life. Children’s media will often include mature nods for any adults in the audience and Pajama Sam is no exception.

PLAY THESE GAMES
If you work in games, you should play the Pajama Sam series. It doesn’t matter if you’re not making a game aimed at kids, or with a humorous tone, or that isn’t an adventure game. There is so much to learn from these games even thirty years on. Pay attention and you will take away SOMETHING. Each two-hour game goes so much harder than it needs to and I cannot applaud or recommend the series enough.

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Okay, So It’s Been a While

I haven’t updated this site in nearly three and a half years. In my defense, I’ve been busy. In the time since I last posted, I’ve switched jobs, met an incredible woman who agreed to marry me, fostered a better than ever relationship with my kids, and done a lot of fun stuff.

If you look at my published works, you’ll notice I have this Clue interactive audiobook listed there. I want to talk about that for a second.

I’m fortunate that I have friends who look out for me and that was definitely the case here. When toymaker Lunii reached out to a famous author friend of mine to do a Choose Your Own Adventure style audiobook for kids, said friend had to politely decline due to scheduling but, in doing so, they offered me up as an alternative. They were well aware of my deep love for children’s media, branching narrative, kid detectives, and the Clue board game. I chatted with Lunii and it was clear early on that we were a good fit for each other. They showed me what they wanted, I pitched some ideas for it, and a little back and forth aaaaand…

…that all resulted in this:

It was Mr. Blair, in the Basement, with the Flowchart!

Over the course of many months, I worked with my great editor at Lunii to realize a fun, engaging, and oh-so mysterious interactive audiobook for their My Fabulous Storyteller device. You can check it out here, available in English and French.

As someone who has absolutely loved Clue since they were a child, this was a dream project. The new take on the characters is just stunning–modern, elegant, enticing–and I got to breathe life into these absolute icons. I cannot think my author friend, Lunii, and Hasbro enough for this opportunity.

In addition to that, well, I’ve been living life. Going to shows, seeing live music, having incredible food, spending time with my family, and trying to take advantage of every day. If you follow me on socials, you…probably noticed I’m barely on them anymore. It’s for good reasons though.

I won’t promise to update this often but just know that, as of right now, things are going well. I love my job, my people, and all the incredible experiences we are having.

Much much love to you all. I hope you are doing well too.

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Things I Wished I Had Said to My Dog as I Drove Her to the Vet to Be Euthanized

I love you. I have loved you since I first saw your wide grin and big brown eyes. Since the moment you flopped over on the pet store floor and demanded scritches. You were loving and playful and ready for a new home. 

You were almost four. I don’t know how anyone could have given you up.

I had sworn I would never get another dog. Not after my last broke my heart. But you were special. I knew then you belonged to us. You were already a member of our family.

You were such trouble. The little escape artist. There was no fence you couldn’t dig under, no closing door you couldn’t rush through. You would disappear and we would chase after you. Following your nose, your signature troublemaker, you would run into traffic without a care in the world. We would drive around and call your name. Eventually, you would find your way back. That big grin would be plastered on your face. You’d want food and loving and you’d act like nothing had happened at all.

You destroyed the first kennel I ever bought you. It lasted less than thirty minutes. I underestimated your drive to be free. Nothing could or would contain you.

I took you to training classes and you laughed. The instructor warned me that dogs like you were clever and bull-headed. She was right.

You wouldn’t be trained but I still enjoyed that time together.

You would eat until there was no more food you could reach. We were really looking forward to that artisanal loaf of bread we bought at the Farmer’s Market. But you decided it was yours and ate almost the whole thing.

Other dogs didn’t interest you, unless you thought they were in your turf. You wanted to be around the people. You weren’t shy about demanding attention. You’d stick your muzzle into my face to say hello and lick my eyelids until I gave you enough pets.

But you never got enough pets.

When I moved away from the family to start a new job, you came with me. It was just us down there for a month. Every night, after your adventures in the backyard, you’d jump up onto the couch next to me and sleep. I found such comfort in your little rumbling snores.

When everything in my life imploded, years later, and I was living on my own for good this time, you came to stay with me.

I wanted to spend every evening sunken into a depressive funk but you demanded your walks. You got me moving, got me out of my head. After, you’d demand a treat and some cuddle time on the floor.

You couldn’t jump onto the couch anymore.

I’d take a selfie of us and post it online. You knew when it was picture time and you’d try to get away. You didn’t like having your picture taken but I got the shot anyhow.

Six months into our new life, you stopped walking very well. Your back feet knuckled under you. You’d lose balance. You’d look up to me for help.

The vet said it was degenerative. It was only going to get worse. It was common in dogs like you. Especially older ones.

I didn’t want to admit it but you were old.

We celebrated your thirteenth birthday, just the two of us. I got you special treats. We made an evening of it. My special girl’s big day.

I knew. I knew it would be the last birthday you ever had.

When I went looking for a new house for us, to get us out of that apartment, I wanted a big yard for you. And we got one.

You spent all day every day out there. You’d wake up in the morning and I’d help you down the stairs. You’d gobble up your breakfast and demand to go outside.

I’d check on you throughout the day. You explored every inch of that yard. You were so happy.

Every evening, I’d help you back in. I’d help you back up the stairs.

Out every morning. In every evening.

Those ins, those outs. They were getting harder for you. Too hard.

You’d come in and you’d eat and you’d drag yourself over to the rug. You’d sit and you’d shake. You’d demand love. And I would give it.

I’m not mad at you. I know I’m crying and I know I’m screaming but it’s not at you. We are turning onto the last road and I have been driving tear-blind this entire time. One hand on the wheel. Another, gently rubbing your back.

You did nothing wrong. You were such a good girl. You were with me and you loved me when I didn’t feel like I was worth any love at all.

You healed me. I never thought I’d want another dog. I thought I could never love another dog. But you healed my heart.

I can’t imagine a world where you’re not with me. Cuddled up next to me. Snoring those sweet, sweet snores. Demanding pets. Giving even more love than you got.

You saved me. And I wish I could save you. I wish I could snap my fingers and make everything better. But you’re very sick. And you’re in a lot of pain. And there’s nothing anyone can do to take that away.

I know you don’t understand. I know you think we’re just going for a drive. You loved drives. I forgot to mention that.

But now we have to say goodbye. And I’m not ready. My hope, my dearest hope, is that you are. And I’m not some monster who takes away your life when all you did was love me.

We’re going to go into this room. You’re going to go to sleep. I will be with you. I will be crying. I will be screaming. But I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at everything but you. I’m mad at life. And I’m mad at me. And I’m mad at a world that gives us such sweet creatures and then takes them away.

I love you. I love you.

I will love you always.

I hope you can forgive me. I hope, in some way, we get to see each other again.

I love you. It’s time to go to sleep.

I love you. I love you. I love you.


Lainey the Beagle

05.05.2007 – 10.14.2020

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Try Now: Full Deck Roleplaying

A new story-focused roleplaying system from the creator of Little Fears and Streets of Bedlam.

A few months ago, I was inspired to create a roleplaying game system that used standard decks of playing cards to create dynamic, engaging stories through play. RPGs with card mechanics aren’t new but I wanted to make the cards you play more than your usual randomizer. I wanted them to introduce elements into the story, for the system to be as active in the storytelling as the players.

The result is Full Deck Roleplaying. I am currently working on the complete ruleset for release later this year but I wanted to get the core mechanics out to as many people as possible to read, play, and give feedback on how the system worked for their group. This isn’t intended as simply a design experiment but a full, functioning game system that can accommodate a wide array of genres, characters, and settings.

Full Deck Roleplaying will be released as a standalone system that players can use in whatever worlds they desire, but I am also working on official settings that use the system at its core with tweaks and adjustments particular to the setting’s needs. Through these settings, players will see the dials turned in different ways that show off the customization options and scalability of the Full Deck Roleplaying system.

Currently in development are:

Seven Thunders

In a world after the Rapture, a war between Angels and Demons ravages the globe. Human bands, the remainders who didn’t make it to Heaven, try to survive and thrive as they attempt to find a way to end the constant fighting.

No Mere Mortals

Superheroes strive to protect humanity against a dark, extradimensional menace that threatens reality itself. Inspired by such comics as Umbrella Academy, Doom Patrol, and Justice League Dark.

Wyrd is Bond

A new version of my magic-hits-the-streets setting from 2004, this new edition of Wyrd is Bond is set in an alternate modern day where practitioners of magic are in the mainstream, releasing hit singles, streaming gang wars, and recruiting neophytes while serving clandestine agendas and hidden masters.

You can get a copy of the Full Deck Roleplaying Playtest Document for absolutely free over at DriveThruRPG. You can chip in a few bucks if you want but there’s no obligation. The PDF includes everything you need to play the game and let me know what you think. People who submit feedback on the game will get a 25% discount when Full Deck Roleplaying hits virtual shelves later this year.

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The Allure of New Horizons

I have always been plagued by the demon known as Ambition. As a youth, I never felt at home in the place I grew up in. I always wanted more. I knew my life was elsewhere. I wasn’t entirely sure what I wanted to do but I knew I couldn’t do it in the rural NEOhioan town in which I was raised.

In my late teens, I met a girl. A girl I would end up marrying. Her career would take us to the Cleveland suburbs–which offered more but still wasn’t enough for me. I took jobs that weren’t good fits but would do for now while I figured out what it was I was going to do for a career.

I worked hard, I put together a tabletop game called Little Fears, which became a critical darling and an indie hit. It opened up doors for me in the field of game design. In 2004, I accepted a position with Human Head Studios as the director of their adventure games division. It was a big opportunity in a new city, a new state. I uprooted my wife and our young daughter to Madison, Wisconsin. I moved them away from family–both mine and my wife’s–in pursuit of a dream. I worked at that studio for a few years before moving on to a local video game startup as an associate game designer. When that place shuttered, I turned to freelance to keep afloat.

The entire time, I looked for a new opportunity. A new position. A new studio. A new place. I eventually found that in 2012 when I accepted a position at Volition in Champaign, Illinois.

Once again, I pulled up the family stakes and relocated us–my wife and now two kids–to start over. New city, new friends, new jobs for both of us adults. A clean slate.

The move was hard. I went ahead and lived in an economy hotel for a week before settling into a rental home for a month while my wife got everything in Madison ready for transition. A huge endeavor that she handled alone. Eventually, they moved down and we started our life there. We made friends, we bought a house, our roots began to tendril into the soil and take hold. But I would soon yank them out.

I stayed with Volition until Spring 2018, when I accepted an offer at Funcom in Durham, North Carolina. A lot of reasons, a lot of emotions, went into that move. I didn’t have to go. It wasn’t like it was in Madison where I was at the whim of contracts and my own meager publications to stay afloat. But, still, it was a new opportunity, a new title, a new studio, and I felt the pull of Ambition telling me to “Go. Go now.”

It wasn’t the first opportunity to leave Volition that I had. I had interviewed at multiple other places, gotten offers, accepted one, and even planned to follow through with it before life went south. My dad got sick. My friends asked me to stay. It was a lot on my shoulders, and I eventually had to pull out of that opportunity. I stayed at Volition for another year or so.

But the demon Ambition was ever-present on my shoulders. My dad passed. My mom was looking to relocate, to be nearer to us. I thought the opportunity at Funcom would be the right one. A good place for us all to be. A big job title at a company whose games I dug.

Again, I packed up the family and moved us far away. Goodbye, friends. Goodbye, jobs. Goodbye, Champaign.

The demon Ambition smiled.

But life in North Carolina was rocky. We went through the motions but they were so hollow. My family was unhappy. My wife and kids were far away from long-time friends. My wife’s community was states away. Intellectually, I knew that. I thought I understand. But I was blind to what that really meant.

In Summer 2019, my life imploded. My wife asked for a divorce. She and the kids went back to Champaign. Funcom and I parted ways. I floundered. I desperately submitted resumes to everywhere. I had some really promising calls. But it was an opportunity at a place I had once contracted that was the no-brainer. I was offered a job in Chicago, just a few hours away from where my kids would be. At a studio I liked, working with some people I had known for nearly two decades.

But my mom had bought a house in North Carolina just a couple months prior and was relocating. She had an offer on her house in that small town in Ohio I grew up in. That house I grew up in. She was uprooting her life, everything she had known for 40 years, to be closer to her family. Just in time for all of us to go away.

The demon Ambition laughed. It had claimed yet another victim. Another casualty of my selfishness and narrow-minded tunnel vision. How had I become so greedy? So self-centered? So blind to the fact I had sworn to share a life with others, not just drag them along in my wake as I went where the whim and the whimsy took me?

I couldn’t stand what had happened. It was like looking at a seven-car pileup that you had caused. It was too big to comprehend. Too painful to absorb at all once. All I could do was reel from the impact, segment, and dissociate as I worked through what my life–what so many lives–had become. Because of me.

I started my new job in September of last year. I love it. I’m getting to use design muscles I haven’t flexed in years. I work with an amazing team. The project is dope. I like being in the Chicago suburbs. My kids visit me and I visit them. I got to take them to Medieval Times to see the new show. I get to pop into IKEA to grab cheap Scandinavian furniture whenever I want. Well, I used to before the pandemic happened.

I live in a small apartment just minutes from the office, though that’s less of a benefit given the entire state is under a Shelter in Place order. But still.

I’ve been here now for seven months and I’ve tried to get settled. I’ve tried to find “home” in this place even though I’m going through a divorce, live away from my kids, and my mom is now 18 hours away, living near no support system whatsoever.

My job has been the one port in this storm that has kept me sane and kept me grounded while every other aspect of my life raged around me. Over time, I’ve calmed and settled and taken stock. I’m slowly establishing something here. But there’s still been a sense of detachment. I look around and I’m trying to find my life in all this. The one drop of paint in the ocean.

And that’s where I’ve been for a long time now, awash amidst so much newness and uncertainty. Smashing against the rocks like my family did every time I grabbed them by the shoulders and shoved them in a new direction.

Ambition is still on my shoulder, jumping up and down, demanding attention. But I don’t listen anymore.

I stopped listening after everything blew up. I realized what a demon Ambition was. I realized what it had cost my family and, in turn, what it had cost me.

The pieces of the puzzle had been assembling for months. I was starting to see the picture of destruction and devastation but I was missing a vital piece. Again, I understood it intellectually but it wasn’t internalized, it wasn’t realized within me.

Funnily enough, it was a video game that helped me truly sort it out.

I picked up Animal Crossing: New Horizons for the Switch earlier this week. I originally got it so that my son and I could play and share our experiences. But, as I got more and more into the game, my eyes opened to feelings, realizations, that had been dormant inside of me, awaiting a light to be shined on them.

It started with placing the tent, establishing where my character would live on this new island. It’s one of the first things you do in the game but it places a stake in the ground around which everything else revolves. You don’t truly understand the ramifications of this choice until later, until more people are involved, more of the island comes to life.

The first few days of playing, I went through the routine: gather resources, complete objectives, build what’s needed, talk to people. My duty was a shopping list: do this, get that, do this, get that.

I was having fun but it was surface. Then I got some fun furniture and decorations. I put them on the wall. I built tables and chairs and a bed and I meticulously sorted everything out. I planted flowers around my house, around my neighbors’ houses. I put up a fence around the museum and planted a tree. I fussed over where to put the outdoor furniture in the homes I was building for new villagers to enjoy.

I visited other islands, saw what people had established on their own. I saw the pride in which they were creating their new world. I took ideas, inspiration, and brought it over to my island. I did more. I planted more. I built more. I had a new drive, a new purpose. I had…pride.

I wanted to make my little home on my little island the best it could be. I wanted to set down roots for my character and build a community for them. I talk to the other villagers to build relationships. I give them presents. I want them to be happy. I want them to be my community. I want to stay on this little island and make it somewhere I can call “home.”

It hit me like a slap in the face. This was what I had been missing in the real world. This sense. I had had houses, and friends, and routines but never a sense of pride, of community, of home. The demon Ambition had my head spinning, always looking toward the horizon for the next new thing. I never got to enjoy where I was, what I was doing. I left that to others. Sure, I fixed the toilet and hung up some pictures but it was rote. I was lacking that connection. I had routines but they were obligation at best.

43 years and it took a video game about animals building a town to teach me what comes naturally to so many others.

I’ve been a fool. I listened to the wrong things. I wanted the wrong things. And it cost me everything that mattered to me.

While it’s too late to undo the damage I’ve done in real life, I can start anew with this knowledge in hand. I can build a new life, can find joy inside a smaller radius, can look to the horizon and see the sunrise instead of a destination. I can decapitalize ambition and turn it from a demon to something manageable. I can still want without needing to salt the earth behind me.

I can and have apologized for what I’ve done in the pursuit of whatever it was I was chasing for so many years. It won’t untie the knot, it won’t put the apple back on the tree, but my sense of sorrow and regret is sincere. I am so sorry to those my lust for Ambition has affected. My family, most of all, but my friends, their friends, my community, their community.

I am still learning, still trying to figure this out. But I will continue to build, to live, to be, to grow. And if you stop my island–in the game or here in the Chicago suburbs–forgive the mess. It’s still under construction.

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Out Now: ABDUCTION JUNCTION

“Abduction Junction”

Abduction Junction, the first of my Patreon-funded mini-supplements for the Savage Worlds Adventure Edition roleplaying game system, is now available at DriveThruRPG! Here’s the pitch:

Watch the Skies!

The aliens have landed and humanity is in trouble! A quartet of extraterrestrial visitors have touched down on planet Earth and everyone in the town of Spring Water, New Mexico is in a tizzy! What do these strange creatures want? Are they here to hurt us? Hunt us? Capture us to work on some galactic chain gang? Help us unlock the secrets of the perfect ambrosia salad? Well, that’s up to you!

Abduction Junction is a setting and character combo kit designed for the Savage Worlds Adventure Edition system of rules. In this mini-supplement, you will find a story setup complete with a variety of hooks to engage your players and move the plot along, some possible truths behind the story, a cast of characters, and some not-so-friendly NPCs. While not a complete adventure in itself, my hope is it sparks enough of your own imagination to turn into something wonderful!

You can get your copy here.

If you enjoy it, please let me know! And you can help me make these over at my Patreon. Not only do you save some cash, you get the PDF early too!

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Something’s Wrong with Sissy: Part One

I have finished revisions on the first part (of five) of my Middle Grade supernatural horror novel, Something’s Wrong with Sissy. I’ve pasted the text below. I’m happy with it overall. If you like it, I’d love to hear from you with a comment.

Part One: Summer

It was this time last summer that Sissy stopped talking. I remember it clearly. We were in the backyard, near the woods. Midsummer, so it was really hot. She turned to me, face shining with sweat. She glanced at the treeline and grinned. I could see the mischief in her eyes.

“C’mon, Mags! Find me!”

Those are the last words she ever said.

She took off, clearing the lawn in no time. She had always been a fast runner. Before I could say anything, she had disappeared beyond the oaks and maples. I groaned as I got to my feet. I was tired already from the heat and really didn’t feel like moving.

“Come back, Sissy!” I yelled. “I don’t want to play!”

No response. I called out again. Nothing.

I stomped forward, slowly building up the energy for something faster than a crawl. As I reached the treeline, I shouted again.

“Sissy! I’m not playing!”

She didn’t respond. I figured she didn’t want to give away her position. She was a champ at hide and seek. It always took me forever to find her on the best of days. I was always a little annoyed by the time I found her crouched inside a box in the attic or stuffed in the lazy susan (after she had stashed the pots and pans inside the oven) or, one time, hanging from the top branch of the tree by our bedroom window.

Sissy had always been small. She was born that way. I was the big twin, that’s what people called me. Sissy was the little one. The sick one. The frail one. “Frail” was what Gramma Mullins always called her. Frail little Sissy.

But she wasn’t frail. She was strong. And fast. “A natural athlete,” our father said.

As I walked through the woods, I kept an eye up toward the sky. I was looking for a hint of her green shirt or white shorts or bright blue shoes–something to give away her position. On the ground, I gently kicked at any large piles of upturned earth or fallen acorns. She had never hid in the dirt, but I bet she could dig like a dog and make herself a spot in no time flat.

I called out again. Then again.

Nothing.

“Look, Sissy,” I yelled at the trees. “I’m seriously not playing this stupid game right now. It’s hot and I am going inside. And if you don’t come with me then I’m going to–”

I struggled to think of something appropriately wicked.

“–I’m going to throw all your books in the trash. After I burn them. I mean it!”

I screamed the last part so loud, it made my throat hurt.

Still no answer.

I was so angry by that point, I almost didn’t hear the thud.

All my anger sank to my feet and suddenly I felt scared.

“Sissy?” I called out. “Sissy, are you okay?”

I ran toward the sound, almost snagging my shoe on a tangle of branches. Some twigs stuck to my laces and I kicked them off as I ran. I spotted something white in the distance. My brain tried to process what I was seeing in the confusion of color.

White. White shorts. Green. Green shirt.

Blue.

Blue shoes.

Sissy.

I ran.

Roots scraped at my ankles, twigs crunched under my feet, leaves gathered into darkness above me. Every step seemed like a mile. I couldn’t run fast enough. Finally, I reached her. Finally, I saw her.

My sister, slumped against the rough trunk of a graying tree.

She looked like a broken bird. Arms bent at her side like dead wings. Her head at a hard angle, face turned away.

I stopped, unsure of what to do. Something inside me pushed me forward, my feet suddenly stones. My hands shook. My thoughts were nothing but a blur.
When I got close enough, I dropped to my knees beside her.

My mom always said never to move anybody who was hurt because you could make their injury even worse. While that warning was in my head, I couldn’t resist rolling her over. She was breathing, which was good. But her face. Her face was pale. Blood trickled from her nose in thin red rivers. Tears lined her eyes. A stream of saltwater trickled down her cheek and pooled inside her left ear. She stared at the sky, eyes wide, catching the beams of light breaking through the leafy cover of the woods.

I snapped my fingers in front of her face. She didn’t respond. No blink, no sound.

Nothing.

I didn’t want to leave her but I had to. I cemented her location in my mind. I memorized the path I took out as I ran back home to get our parents.
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Something’s Wrong with Sissy: Prelude

So I gave up writing.

It wasn’t intentional. It honestly just happened. A confluence of rejection, exhaustion, and anxiety wore me down and I stopped writing.

Outside of the day job, that is.

Time passed. Writing became something I didn’t do. I didn’t even think about it.

It was freeing. I stopped worrying about a lot of things and allowed myself to be okay with where I was in my career, in my life.

Then things started nagging at me. Unconsciously. I started to feel that anxiety when walking through a book store. I felt an aversion to reading. I got The Guilt over not having an agent and not having some big publishing contract. The tells.

The desire to write showed up soon after.

I dreaded things going back to how they had been. Back to being stuck in this constant cycle of unfulfilled ambition and unending self-defeat.

Then something else happened. I broke through a barrier, pierced some emotional membrane. I felt the need to write, the drive to create, but all those other anxieties melted away. I had the desire to go and make—and that was it. Nothing weighing me down, making me feel less-than. I fell back in love with both writing and reading without all this other baggage.

I wasn’t used to that. Depression, fear, anger had always been part of the package. Without those feelings, that creative fever I felt wasn’t a burden. It was exciting.

Admittedly, that made me nervous. I waited for the other shoe to drop and it didn’t.

Certain I wouldn’t be ambushed, I wandered into the writing fields again. I dusted off an old story of mine and started revising it. Free and clear and without. Without all those other, horrible things.

Which leads us to now and the name of this blog post. The story I’m revising, the story I’m finishing, is a Middle Grade horror novel called Something’s Wrong with Sissy. It’s a dark fable about a young girl named Margaret whose twin comes down with a strange affliction that only she can solve—or at least try to.

It’s about 20-25% of the way done now. I’ve posted some bits of it on my Twitter but will post longer excerpts here as I’m comfortable.

It appears I’m back writing. And for the first time in a while, I’m happy about that.

Stay tuned.

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