NerD&Diest Xmas Ever

 Merry Christmas, my ten of readers!

Our holidays and gifts will always be a little nerdy just because of who we are, but this year’s felt even more so than usual.

Audrey got me this cute Dice Dungeon, so I can incarcerate dice that fail me as a player.

Bryce and Sara gave us this wonderful personalized decoration for our tree, and gave the girls some scented candles shaped like polyhedral dice that I forgot to photograph.

But I was very happy with the gift Audrey and I put together for the group of us, and gratified that it was well received.

A couple of years ago, Bryce and Sara asked if I could teach them to play D&D, which I was only too happy to do. And although I had no intention at the time of running yet another campaign, we eventually folded the Tyranny of Dragons campaign I was running with the family and started Rime of the Frostmaiden with Bryce and Sara.

Bryce’s sister Jenni, a doctor doing her residency in Vancouver, was curious about playing and then her boyfriend Joe (another doctor) asked if he could watch one time. Obviously I refused, rolling up a rogue with him instead and he seemed to enjoy himself as well. Now the group has eight players, but it is rare that everyone’s schedule allows them to attend at the same time - possibly for the best!

Not too far into the campaign, set in the far North of Icewind Dale, Bryce suggested giving their group a name - something very rare from when I started playing, but increasingly common nowadays. I appreciated it because referring to the group as “the party,” “the adventurers,” or “those guys” and so on can get pretty tiresome. His suggestion of “Icehawks” met with the group’s s approval and was thus adopted.

Then I started noodling around with Word (my graphic design program of choice, solely because I don’t know any others), I came up with a logo, and Audrey and I decided to get it printed on some baseball shirts a la The Hellfire Club from Stranger Things.

We got them done up by Print Machine in Old Strathcona (delightful people to deal with), picked them up in November and somehow managed to hide them and not spill the beans until Dec 18 when we got together in Fort Saskatchewan. Bryce, Sara, Bobby and the girls were instructed to open their differently wrapped gifts at the same time, and the response upon the reveal was very positive indeed!

Joe and Jenni got theirs Christmas Day and were quick to share another group picture. Joe’s testimonial was succinct but articulate: “Team shirts are dope.”

So! The next time you are stuck for gift ideas, consider custom nerdwear - it worked out very well for us!

A Messi Finish - World Cup 2022

I am not the biggest sports fan in the world by any measure, but do root for my various home teams and enjoy a good contest sometimes even without context, but I do have an enduring weakness for international team sports.

When all the talk of contract negotiations, free agents, salary caps and whole teams being bought and sold like chattels, it can be difficult to discern the difference between the sports pages and financial section sometimes. But in an event like the World Cup, when everyone competes for a spot on the national side and then fights to qualify for the tourney and then tries to battle their way out of group and eventually lift one of the globe's most iconic sports trophies, and only get to make the attempt once every four years? That's something pretty special.

And even though the governing body is almost irredeemably corrupt and the host nation bribed their way to an economic and sportswashing victory (and tip my hat to anyone with more willpower than myself, able to boycott this event), there are still thrilling stories to be found.

Canada scoring their first goal at a World Cup in more than three decades.

Amazing upsets like Saudia Arabia beating the eventual champions, Argentina.

So much of the world lining up to cheer for Morocco, the first African team to make it to the semi-finals.

I have a number of teams I cheer for until I have to make a choice (which, tragically, seldom happens) including England, Holland, my home nation (obvsly!) and most any African team (who seem to have a lot of the best nicknames, like Les Fennecs, the Atlas Lions and the Black Stars). But as we went into the final, it was less about my cheering for Argentina and Lionel Messi and more cheering against France, the returning champions. 

It wasn't always this way - I remember scheduling our return from a trip to Gettysburg in 1998 so that a friend could watch the final between France and Brazil, with el Canarhinhos heavily favoured but les Bleus obliterating them 3-0, a true underdog victory.

But their behaviour on and off the pitch in 2010, including a player strike and the team being recalled to France in semi-disgrace, really soured me on the team. And so I have resolutely cheered against the Gallic side, despite their obvious skill, despite their many strengths, and two marvelous players like the goalkeeper Lloris and 23-year-old phenom Mbappe.

After today though, and what many commentators are calling the greatest Wrold Cup Final in the tournament's near century of existence, and possibly one of the greatest matches of football in the history of the sport, I can let it go.

I was cheering for Argentina, eager to show up the reigning champions and hoping retiring legend Lionel Messi could gain the last accolade that has eluded him, and I got that, but I got so much more.

• Exemplary football played by gifted athletes with skill and tenacity.
• Besides stars like Messi and Mbappe, the chance to marvel at the astonishing speed of Enzo Fernandes and the astounding goalkeeping of Emiliano Martinez/
• An indomitable French side which, despite rumours of a virus infecting the team, managed to come back from a 2-0 deficit to push the game into extra time, then answer a goal late in extra time to push the game into PKs.
• Fantastic officiating, with Polish referee Szymon Marciniak making bold, tough calls in a high-pressure environment.
• After a grueling tournament and 120 minutes of play,m descending into a penalty shootout - possibly one of the most feared and hated ways to end a major tournament until you realize they used to replay the entire match or decide it with a coin toss.

Football is not everyone's sport, and overall I probably prefer the pace of hockey, but watching world-class athletes run around an enormous pitch for up to two hours of virtually uninterrupted play gives them a claim on standards of endurance no other team sport can hope to match.

It also might explain the surfeit of emotions at the ends of every elimination game: players on both sides with tears in their eyes of either relief or anguish, grown men wracked with sobs, inconsolable due to lost opportunities that may never come again. 

Today's final game was an astonishing window into human competition, in all its artificiality and sincerity. It ensured a legend for Messi bordering on divinity, and has wiped away my dispassion for an excellent French squad that I have no doubt will be a force to be reckoned with yet again in 2026.

Truly a match for the ages, and a sporting event the likes of which I may never see again. Amazing!

Stout Testers

 I have a deep-seated and abiding love for sharing the things I enjoy, and take tremendous pleasure in seeing people take an interest in the thing I share with them, whether it is a creative artist, a movie or album, a boardgame I introduced them to, or even painting miniatures. 

One of the most rewarding examples though was introducing my brother-in-law Jerry to the joy of strong dark beers, particularly Russian Imperial and Bourbon barrel-aged stouts. A few Christmases back we got into some of them and they have become a perennial favourite since. In fact, since moving to Houston Jerry has made a point of picking the limited edition Goose Island Bourbon County stouts that are only available on Black Friday, and has been relentlessly generous in sharing them over the holidays and when I visited him and Tara in October.

Last year at Christmas, I was shocked when gave me a lovely gift box of a vertical tasting of Bourbon Countystouts from 2017, 2018 and 2019. Unlike regular beers strong stouts like these (e.g. 14.2% ABV) can be cellared like a wine for years, increasing in complexity as they mature. Jerry had heard that you were taking your chances once you got past the five-year mark, and had suggested to me that drinking these three lovely bottles might be something to be done sooner, rather than later.

I found two willing testers in Totty and the Rare Hipster, and when I told Jerry earlier in the week that we were tucking into them on Friday, the excitement in his voice was palpable. Quite extraordinary for someone going into the hospital tomorrow night for chemotherapy in preparation for a stem cell transplant!

Before the lads arrived, I printed placemats so that we could have all three vintages served at once without risk of misplacing a glass and having to guess which glass held which year. I had seen this done by the Glenlivet people when I won a chance to drink a 50-year-old single malt.

I decanted the beers into Kolsch glasses - not the best choice for a stout, honestly, but I felt that consistency between the vessels would be critical for identifying different characteristics - and both gentlemen in attendance commented on the rich aroma coming from the tall, thin glasses.

With little preamble beyond talking about the provenance of the Bourbon County brand and reading the copy from the back of the gift box, we tucked into the beers.

In our excitement and zeal we started with the oldest first, which was probably a mistake but WOW, did that 2017 bottle make an impression. Smooth, rich, dark, sweet and strong, with more caramel than chocolate notes as Pete observed, and hints of dark fruit detected by Mike.

Compared to the 2018 and 2019, I felt the mouthfeel was different; smoother and perhaps a touch less carbonation. But honestly, my palate is not sophisticated enough to articulate the differences between the three. I agree with Pete that the 2019 had more of the dark chocolate aftertaste I normally associate with these types of beers, but in truth, the differences in taste and texture were subtle while the flavour and nose were impactful and delicious. 

As the beers warmed, they became even more complex, with the strong boozy taste moving more forward and prompting us to savour each successive sip, and taking deep appreciative sniffs in between.

And of course, giving them high scores and rankings on the beer tracking app we all use, Untappd - apologies for not initially tagging you Jerry!

Perhaps best of all, we had no agenda beyond drinking the beers and enjoying each other's company - no games to set up, no shows to get back to. Languidly draining our Kolsch glasses gave us a long overdue opportunity to catch up at a busy time of year.

All too soon however, the Goose Island beers were gone, and we moved on to some others the lads had brought. I quite enjoyed the Robo Crow imperial stout from Sea Change that Mike had purchased upon release today (and which has a delightful label) and also appreciated the smooth Nitro Milk Stout from Left Hand that Pete had brought. I will have to try them again later, while not under the immediate shadow of something as amazing as the Bourbon County variety.

So much to be grateful for that Friday night - a generous brother-in-law with exemplary taste in beers, the outstanding stouts themselves and having dear friends to share them with. Thanks to all, and to Goose Island for making such amazing beverages!

Cold Weather Comeback

Last Thursday night saw a significant shuffling of cars and unraveling of extension cords in our household, as the overnight low approached 40 below zero, Celsius.

The Jeep that Glory drives to work at the diner was booked in for emissions recall the next morning, and the block heater cord on the Flex had been torn off somehow prior to the previous winter. This meant the older Ford needed to be brought into the garage and the Jeep plugged in out front to ensure both vehicles would start the next day (which, mercifully, both did).

Having the day off felicitated this, a trip to Costco, and the ability to pick Glory up at the end of her school day so she wouldn't have to wait at the bus stop in weather bitterly cold even for Edmonton.

Less than 24 hours later, however, it had warmed up enough that Canéla and I actually made it to the dog park for the first time this week. The cold and snow required dressing her up in her jacket and boots ("Muttlucks"), something she is not fond of in the slightest, but which was achieved without bloodshed.

The wind kept it a bit below -20° C, but once we passed through the double gate at Lauderdale Off-Leash Park, she spent most of her time there on the run, playing with several other dogs (for a change).

I've been bringing the clicker and treat bag with me to try to improve her recall, and while I don't appreciate how much more food-motivated she appears to be these days (not leaving strangers who have given her treats, etc.), watching her come running towards me is still pretty rewarding.

There are so many more important things to talk about at the moment that it honestly feels quasi-irresponsible to spend one of my weekly blog posts talking about simple successes and basic joy despite the best efforts of the cold. 

But all the important stuff - the Alberta Sovereignty Act, the growing healthcare crisis, the enabling of fascists and anti-democracy types in social media and elsewhere - they all make me angry, and there are enough other, smarter, people writing about them that taking time to focus on a happy dog running to me across the snow felt like the right choice after a really enjoyable weekend.

A New Classic or Modern Misstep? Guardians of the Galaxy Holiday Special, Reviewed

 James Gunn's Guardians of the Galaxy Holiday Special takes a few of its cues from 1978's near-mythical Star Wars Holiday Special, which is ironic, as the latter is almost uniformly derided and has never been rebroadcast or released on home video.

Like the SWHS, the GotG Holiday Special mixes animation, music, humour, action, and sentiment to try to reach an increasingly jaded audience with a message about the values of this season. Does this unlikely-seeming mashup transcend the original, or is it destined to join Chewbacca's on Lumpy in pop culture's fickles trash heap?

Yeah, I think they nailed it. In fact, at this point, having watched it twice, I am ready to give GHS the number two spot in my definitive (and highly subjective) all-time Christmas TV shows ranking.

Like the Star Wars special, this one also includes an animated flashback, rotoscoped for extra retro charm. Peter Quill, as a young boy on a Ravager starship, enlists first mate Kraglin in trying to recreate Christmas with a stubby tree and presents. Yondu, unsurprisingly, does not approve, and gosh but it is good to hear Michael Rooker in that role again!

But once you return to live-action, a good holiday special has to be entertaining, and it can do this through suspense, action or drama, but will most commonly draw from comedy. It must also walk a delicate balance between sincere emotion and treacly sentiment or nostalgia. My number one pick, How the Grinch Stole Christmas, remains my favourite example of this because animator Chuck Jones is a bona fide genius.

But GHS does the humour just as well as The Grinch, particularly in conveying an alien's perspective on just how ridiculous much of our Christmas lore and holiday traditions would seem to an extraplanetary outsider. And best of all, they do it in a song performed by alt-country legends The Old 97s very early in the show in order to set the stage for the mayhem to come. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CQOb1fybgW0

The rest of the music in the special is a great mix (dare I say "awesome"? 😋), enhancing Gunn's already significant soundtrack reputation with artists ranging from The Pogues to The Waitresses and Smashing Pumpkins 

There is also a ton of slapstick and some very well-done fish-out-of-water comedy demonstrated by Mantis (Pom Klementieff) and Drax (Dave Bautista) as they return to Earth and wander around Hollywood looking for the gift that they believe will save Christmas for their dear friend Peter (Chris Pratt) - the legendary Kevin Bacon.

Saving Christmas can be a contrived goal of the highest order when handled poorly or literally (or both) in fare like Santa Claus Conquers the Martians, but it works here because these two Guardians aren't trying to save Christmas for the entire world or even save it from itself  (like they do so well in my number three pick, A Charlie Brown Christmas) - no, they are trying to save a memory of Christmas for someone they love and respect, and one of them has a great reason for doing it which I shall not spoil. 

For us MCU nerds, it is also a chance to check in on the cosmic corner of an increasingly expanding catalogue of people, places and things before Vol. III of GotG comes out next May. This special is the capstone for Phase 4 of the MCU and doesn't waste any time with major linkages, but there are some offhand references and a couple nice easter eggs (and a post-credits scene, natch). I was also glad to finally hear the voice of Cosmo the space dog, but have to confess I alway heard their voice as male when reading the comics. 

The Guardians of the Galaxy Holiday Special is the whole package: great laughs, wonderful music, cracking dialogue and a heartfelt message about why Christmas can matter to everyone, regardless of their beliefs and proximity to Sol III, and whether or not they have heard of it before. And it is only 45 minutes long, so definitely consider adding it to your selection of Christmas tv shows, at least for this year. 

Tabletop D&Debut

We hosted our dear friends the Hawkins this weekend - the first time they have been able to stay with us since 2019. Even through the pandemic we have managed to at least maintain our traditional pre-Xmas get-togethers, even at the zoo or with Fort Edmonton standing in for one of our homes.

Normally we try to get in some sort of outing, but no one was really feeling it this year, so instead Jon took me up on my offer of teaching him and his boys Caleb (gr. 10) and Josiah (gr. 7) how to play D&D, something he hadn't done since university. And that was how we spent the majority of our Saturday afternoon. I had found some cool dice sets online that even came with cool-looking bags, and we rolled off with an oversized d20 to see who would get first pick of the colours.

Fenya and Bobby joined us, both to get in some extra visiting and add a little oomph and experience to the party. I found some pre-made character sheets for first-level characters (possibly from Lost Mine of Phandelver?) and everyone rolled off to see who would get first pick.

 A short while later, Thoradin the Dwarf cleric (Jon), Galendan the Elf wizard (Caleb), Z'baltazar the archer (Josiah), Tilly the Halfling rogue (Fenya) and Halbard the axeman (Bobby) were duly assigned and miniatures chosen that at least roughly approximated them. (I was actually pretty chuffed that Josiah selected an old Grenadier model for his archer  that I had painted back when I was probably his age!

We took a few moments going over the different dice and then went over the character sheet in a moderate amount of detail, but before anyone could get too bored, we kicked off our adventure.

I had purchased a set of short adventures called Defiance in Phlan when I was introducing the game to Bryce and Sara; five mini-quests designed to be playable in a single evening at a game store. I highly recommend this, and the segment we played (The Dead at Highsun) was an ideal introductory scenario wherein a cemetery official asks the party to accompany him while he investigates a crypt.

The game kicks off, not with a fight, but with a trap, seeing the players working together to solve a puzzle within a sealed crypt while gas seeping in kept the pressure on.

Then they had to explore the secret catacombs beneath the crypt, fighting skeletons and zombies (very tough opponents for a first-level party!) while discovering their secret weakness.

And when all was said and done, Z'baltazar simply had to know what happened when he poured the blue beaker into the green cauldron in one of the previous chambers, and was horrified to discover it reanimated the skeletons they had already fought! I applied a little creative license and leveled them up before the undead rematch, and everyone managed to make it back and receive their reward - only one death save ended up getting rolled.

When we were all done and packing up, I asked everyone what they thought of D&D and was a little surprised that Josiah was the first one to speak up, saying "I want to play again." Delightful!

Listening to him and Caleb relate their adventure (and misadventures!) to their mum Michelle over dinner reminded me of similar tales related to my family and other non-players when I first picked up the game in junior high. Nerd persecution was a bit more pronounced back then, so finding other players could be difficult but it was always gratifying to find someone else who knew what saving throw or armour class meant.

Now nerdy stuff is mainstream and even kind of cool, and D&D is a hugely successful product with its own pop-culture cachet and even a major motion picture coming out. (I know it's not the first - we don't talk about the Jeremy Irons one.) But as big as it gets, and even with a plethora of how-to books and tutorial videos and live-play sessions to guide newbies through the rules, learning to play with friends around a table is still the best kind of experience, and one I was pleased and privileged to introduce Caleb and Josiah to.

I hope they get to use their new dice again soon!

Treasure or Salvage? - Black Panther: Wakanda Forever, Reviewed

I can't say for sure why the death of Black Panther actor Chadwick Boseman two years ago had such a profound impact on so many people, myself included. 

It probably has something to do with the intersectionality of Boseman's dedication and compassion combined with the intrinsic nobility of T'Challa, the royal leader and superhuman protector of an afro-futurist kingdom in a comic-book universe. He was an actor who recognized the significance of being the first black superhero on the big screen, and carried himself like a king, but with abject humility. Such a loss!

Following up the immense success and cultural impact of the first Black Panther (2018) would have been a tall order even if Boseman had lived; with the director and studio refusing to recast the character, how do you carry on? 

Well, to begin with, you lean into the grief.

Black Panther: Wakanda Forever opens with the death of the eponymous character from an unnamed disease and carries on from there with the grieving of T'Challa's sister Shuri (Letitia Wright) and his mother Queen Ramonda (Angela Bassett), as well as the kingdom of Wakanda. 

But Wakanda must also deal with an increasing number of nations becoming increasingly desperate to obtain the African nation's greatest resource, vibranium, and are becoming ever more forceful in their efforts. Wakanda's uncompromising defensive stance makes it all too easy to blame them for an attack on a ship that has found the miracle element at the bottom of the Atlantic. 

But a new player has entered the MCU -the undersea kingdom of Talocan and its headstrong ruler Namor (Tenoch Huerta) - and like his vainglorious namesake from the comics, Namor does not hesitate to demand Wakanda turn over the scientist who helped locate the oceanic vibranium so they can be killed.

Director and co-writer Ryan Coogler has to deftly weave together a story that not only balances personal grief and geopolitics, but also introduces established comics characters like the Sub-Mariner and Ironheart, while establishing a credible way for the Black Panther's mantle to be passed on to a worthy successor.

The fact that he does this as well as he does should not come as too big a surprise, but the fact that he does so almost exclusively through the lens of black women, including T'Challa's lover Nakia (Lupita N'Yongo) is absolutely amazing, in my opinion. Coogler and his co-writer Joe Robert Cole (who also co-wrote the original BP) have re-entered the world of Wakanda and its amazing people at full stride in one of the MCU's better sequels, with a screenplay that blends Lee/Kirby comics chutzpah with realpolitik out of John LeCarré or Tom Clancy, all against a backdrop of ongoing family tragedy that is Shakespearean in both its depth and scale.

Is it as strong a movie as the first? Sadly, no. It is probably a smidgen too long (at 2:41, the second-longest of all the MCU), and Namor's imperiousness is no match for Killmonger's righteous anger from the first film. There is a hint of a same-sex relationship that Marvel again fails to capitalize on and no one can be surprised that the climax of the film is a massive set piece that begs to be reenacted with action figures.

But that last bit, despite feeling a bit inevitable or compulsory when considered alongside most ot the other 29 MCU films, makes sense in the context of this story, and is engaging and unpredictable as it sets the stage for a possible revenge. 

And Namor's origin and that of the Talocans (a stand-in for the Atlantis of Marvel Comics) is a brilliant mix of science and fantasy that will prevent any comparison to the undersea denizens of the Distinguished Competition, and firmly establishes him as more of an anti-hero, despite his undeniably villainous actions. Design-wise, I think Namor is also the best cinematic homage to the comic look since the Vulture in Spider-Man: Homecoming. The green trunks are in play and yes, they even managed to make those tiny ankle wings cool - don't ask me how.

And I am always glad to see the corners of the MCU fleshed out a little bit, as they do in a handful of scenes featuring CIA Director Valentina Allegre de Fontaine (Julia Louis-Dreyfus) and operative Everett Ross (Martin Freeman). I hope they repeat this and more things like it a few more times before the release of Marvel's Thunderbolts in 2024.

Most importantly though, is that every scene with established characters drips with belief and power. Bassett's grief as Queen Ramonda feels real. Wright's anger at Shuri's inability to save her brother is evident even in scenes where that is not the focus. The frustration and shame of Okoye (Danai Gurira) is palpable. And even Huerta's Namor vacillates between imperious and marginalized in a complex manner that is compellingly charismatic. 

Wakanda Forever may not feel quite as seismically significant as its predecessor, but it continues the story of Wakanda - and introduces those of Namor and Ironheart - with grit and feeling, right in the sweet spot between the comic book fantasy we love and the real emotional heft we need. And you can feel the spirit of both Chadwick Boseman and T'Challa throughout the film - hats off to Ryan Coogler and company for taking what could have been merely the salvage recovered from tragic circumstance, and turned it into a treasure of a touching adventure film.

Answering the Call...of Cthulhu!

Last weekend we finally got started on a role-playing game campaign that has been in the works for literal years: The Masks of Nyarlathotep, a legendary campaign for the venerable Call of Cthulhu system.

By venerable, I mean the gaming system for pitting hapless mortal investigators against the machinations of H.P. Lovecraft's other-worldly horrors has been around almost as long as Dungeons & Dragons itself, and is currently in its 7th edition.

I remember my friend Dave dismissing the appeal of the game when we were in high school: "Oh yeah, you and your elbow-patched academics in the middle of Prohibition, grabbing a tommy-gun to fight off Yog-Sothoth or whatever? Hard pass!" And for years, I shared that opinion - my love of a fair fight precluded my interest in such a paradigm, and I only had a middling interest in Lovecraft's works anyhow.

But while visiting my friend Jim in Calgary - three years ago I think - he described how the H.P. Lovecraft Historical Society had commissioned a radio play based on one of Chaosium's most popular adventures, the aforementioned Masks, and gave me an MP3 so I could listen to it on my drive home to Edmonton.

I had three of the eight one-hour episodes under my belt by the time I got home and listened to the rest in very short order, and felt myself really drawn into this tale of a largely random group of people drawn into battle with a global cult trying to destroy the world. The fact that this audio adaptation had great voice acting with period-appropriate musical cues and tremendously produced commercials ("the only toothpaste with radium) only added to my enjoyment.

This of course piqued my interest in perhaps running this campaign myself, once we wrapped up The Tyranny of Dragons, anyways. Everything I read about Masks of Nyarlathotep suggested an enormous and challenging (for both the player and game master) story with a scale incomparable to almost anything else. Almost every list of best adventures published for any system includes Masks somewhere in the top five, and there have been five different editions of it published since the first one in 1986; like I said: venerable.

Call of Cthulhu is a horror RPG, and maintaining the necessary atmosphere in an online game seemed impossibly difficult to me. Besides, the game makes extensive use of marvelously produced player handouts - posters, letters, newspaper clippings and book pages - so I asked the local G&Geeks what they thought, and they were keen on the idea. So much so, in fact, that they split the cost with me for the deluxe slipcase edition of Masks, with 666 pages of adventure, plus a special Keeper's screen and 97 handouts for the players! 

Then I came across the Gamer Prop Set for the campaign by the HPLHS, the same people who produced the radio drama; clippings and full broadsheets printed on actual newsprint! Torn out notebook pages! Period maps, cardstock flyers and a physical matchbox! I mentioned it to the players more as a point of interest, but their ultimate response was "why the heck wouldn't we split the cost on this as well?"

And so we jumped in with both feet, and the box came in June, more than two years after I floated the idea to the group, which was a year after a chance encounter with a fake radio drama. And last weekend we finally got to play!

We had gotten together over the summer to play a few one-shots with pre-made characters, then spent a couple of evenings this fall getting everyone a proper player character (and a back-up character - Call of Cthulhu is legendarily fatal!) so we could get stuck right in to it.

In the first evening of play, we unraveled a bit of the story, and I got to show the players a few of the props I had been provided:

The clipping which drew several of the players to Peru

The telegram welcoming them to the expedition

A gorgeous map of Peru

The coins (bought separately) used as tokens to reward good role-playing

We are still getting our feet wet, and scheduling remains the greatest challenge to any type of consistent group gaming, but I feel we are off to a great start. My fears about the unlevel playing field have given way to the real potential for dramatic storytelling and heroism within a system both incredibly asymmetric and unbelievably unforgiving. It is not a system or adventure I would have really been ready to enjoy before I was probably in my mid-thirties. And so far everyone is keen and intrigued, even without a single combat roll in 4-5 hours of play!

Which is good, because the amount of material (and the experience of those who have completed it) suggests that playing twice a month or so will likely see our Masks campaign wrap up in 2025!

Ghost Story?

We had a Hallowe'en theme for our team meeting at work this past Thursday, and as someone willing to speak publicly, I was asked if I would like to share a ghost story - this is what I said (as best I can recall).

Asking me to tell a ghost story is kind of a tricky proposition. Do I believe in ghosts? Well, not really, but kind of?

I believe in the soul, in a way that no religious belief can fully lay claim to. I don't think most people would question the existence of a part of us that exists beyond or physical and mental selves. Is the emotional axis simply a subset of our minds? Perhaps, but then you could argue that consciousness itself is simply a fragment of our physical brains.

No, I believe the feeling part of us is potentially even deeper and less understandable than the thinking piece. And I appreciate that this assertion requires a bit of faith on its own - if a soul exists, it does so without any ability to be measured, categorized or catalogued in any meaningful way.

And something that ephemeral and immeasurable is, by definition, without limits. So if a soul is real, is it possible to determine what it might be capable of? And could this even extend to a soul somehow surviving the corporeal death of the body that formerly hosted it?

Who can say?

When I lived in Toronto and worked for Games Workshop, one of the Brits who came over to set up the Canadian operation was a good-natured and very smart fellow named Martin. One night over drinks the manager of the Queen Street shop (our oldest store at the time) was joking about the day that rats displaced the mice that you would sometimes hear running across the suspended ceiling.

Martin smiled and said, "When I was a lad, in Tipton, I heard a thumping and sliding noise from the attic above my bedroom.  I figured it was a rat, and I grabbed a stick or a hammer or summat and headed up to sort it out. But when I got up there and shone my torch around, I couldn't see anything, so I figured I must have heard something hit the roof and slide off..

"A few days later, I heard the noise again, kind of a thump! sssslide kind of sound, and it repeated. I pulled the ladder down from the attic and raced up, but same as before, couldn't see anything. It didn't even look like the dust up there had been disturbed, and it definitely sounded like something being dragged right over my head.

"The following week, I heard the sond again: thump! sssslide, thump! sssslide, thump! sssslide. I went down stairs and told my mum I was getting freaked out by a noise in the attic."

Someone interjected, "How old were you, Martin?"

Martin stroked his chin, saying "Ten or eleven, I think? Old enough that my mum laughed that I was getting wound up by mice running overhead.

"I told her, 'No, mum! It's bigger than mice, I thought maybe rats, but there's no tracks or scat upstairs, and it sounds like something being dragged around.'

"'Like what?' Mum said, and I banged my foot on the floor and dragged it a couple of times, to imitate the thump! sssslide, thump! ssssslide sound I had heard.

"I dunno what I was expecting, but it was not to have all the colour drain out of my Mum's face. She looked at me with serious eyes and said, 'that's the sound of your grandfather's walk. And he died in this house.'

"I thought she was taking the mickey out of me, and I said 'Wot? No way Mum!' but she went on. 'You were too little to remember, but your grandfather hurt his leg in a bad bike accident and dragged his right foot behind him all the time after that.'

"I laughed and said, 'Are you trying to freak me out or something?' but she shook her head. 'Go ask you Gram,' pointing to the living room. 'She'll tell you.'

"I didn't really want to know at this point, but at the same time I felt I kind of had to, y'know? So I went into the living room where my blind Gram was knitting and had the tv on so she could hear her stories, and I asked, 'Gram, did Granddad walk with a limp?'

"'Ooh, yes,' she said, 'he dragged his foot behind him til the end of his days - I could always hear him around; thump, slide, thump, slide...'

"She said that, y'know, and all the hairs on my body stood straight up. And then she said, 'I still hear him.'"

We all sat there, looking at Martin and exchanging uncertain glances with each other, and he continued, "I'm an atheist, and I don't want to believe in ghosts, but if you asked me now if I believe in them, well, I couldn't rightly say 'no', now, could I?"

Buc-ee’s, The Texas-Sized Pit Stop

I am in Texas! Tara and Jerry flew me down because after his stem cell transplant in November (well, December now), they will have to go into Covid-style lockdown for 100 days. 

Visiting Texas is a treat and with Jerry having great insurance from his employer and easy access to the M.D. Anderson Center, probably the best place on the planet to get treatment for leukemia, I have never been so happy for people I love to be living so far away!

They are both in pretty good spirits and well-supported by their health providers, so we have been relatively unrestricted in terms of activities, pending Jerry’s energy levels and overall stamina, of course. So on Saturday, following his check up at MDA, we decided to take a trip out to the Johnson Space Center, but made a critical detour along the way.

We drove maybe ten miles past the NASA HQ to Texas City and a big gas station right next to the highway, because no trip to The Lone Star State is complete without a trip to Buc-ee’s.

You are no doubt curious, as I was, as to why a highway rest stop would be warranted as a tourist destination, and the truth is, it is hard to explain what makes Buc-eee’s so distinct. After all, we have some big gas stations and Flying J truck stops to marvel at here in Canada, don’t we?

Well, to begin with, there’s the scale of it: where a big gas station in Canada might have a dozen pumps, the average Buc-ee’s has close to (or over) a hundred. And there are no semis or big rigs allowed, all private vehicles.

The size difference extends to the store as well - it isn’t just big for a gas station shop, it has a footprint similar to many Canadian Tires I have shopped in.

What do they do with all this space? Well, a lot of it is dedicated to a large, clean, bank of washrooms, one of the biggest draws for those travelling the Texas highways, but I felt inappropriate photographing it so I didn’t.

But like all such store, a large part of the floor space is taken up by racks of snacks, including the (in)famous Wall of Jerky.

Oh, you are a vegetarian? No problem, there are trays of fruit and salads in a cooler like you would find in your grocery store. There is also a roastery serving up paper cones of hot glazed pecans, cashews and almonds.  Need more than a snack? No problem, grab a hot, freshly made BBQ brisket sandwich or chicken on a bun from the sandwich stand.

There are racks and racks of fountain drinks of all varieties and a stand of slushies to select from, as well as coolers full of bottled and tinned beverages (including beer and wine, of course). But even then you are still only halfway through the store!

Next you hit all the Buc-ee’s branded merchandise; an astonishing array of stickers, tshirts, badges, hats and all that sort of thing of course, but also loungewear, sweaters, pyjamas, jackets and more, much of which is is high demand in my household. 

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And not just clothing - Buc-ee’s has a wide selection of branded home decor, including wall hangings, yard decorations and even charcuterie boards.

There are also unbranded apparel and decor items as well, most of which evoke a certain rustic or good ol’boy/girl/person sensibility.

And lastly, you will find a certain a decent selection of outdoor equipment and hardware, suitable for replenishment or possibly fully outfitting a camping trip or fishing expedition,  it which I didn’t think to document.

So there you have it - we really have nothing in .Canada to match it, and while it don’t think we need it, it is always a treat to visit Buc-ee’s, and once you know what it is, there is a weird sort of charm that makes it appealing.

But now that I think of it,  the idea of something so massive, so pervasive and so instantly recognizable within Texas but being virtually unknown  in Canada (and even in much of the U.S.) is probably a big part of its appeal to us…

Please feel free to disregard the preceding blog post - unless you visit Texas. Then I hope you visit a Buc-ee’s and see for yourself! I’m certainly grateful that Tara and Jerry insisted on taking us to one, and making a detour on this trip so I could revisit it.

GR8FUL

 A week after Thanksgiving, I am still consciously grateful for so many things in my life that it felt time to make an accounting of them. Well, some of them, anyways -an exhaustive list would be near impossible.

...for this warm fall day, brightly lit and dry, unseasonably so for mid-October.

...for a family that loves, respects and appreciates each other (and is willing to spend over an hour trying to snap a good fall picture before the wind takes all the foliage off the trees that line 97 street!). 

...for the opportunity to visit my sister and her husband in Houston next week, before he goes in for a bone marrow transplant in November.

...for my brother-in-law to be living so close to one of the best treatment centers in the world for his leukemia (and for the health insurance that lets him access it).

...for attending a church committed to life in the 21st century, and to reconciling with those we have historically wronged, like the Indigenous peoples and the LGBTQ2S+ community.

...for friends who I can spend hours with on the most ridiculous pastimes - or hours in conversation about almost nothing at all.

...for Sara's pregnancy going so smoothly (overall!) and her currently being scheduled to deploy another grandchild into our orbit in less than three weeks (a child who, like her brother, I will have no blood connection to, but have instead the immense privilege of having been asked to call myself grandfather! (Or, more accurately: Poppy.)

...for a canine companion who, though perhaps irretrievably insane, is a tremendous comfort and has filled much of the hole left in our hearts after Nitti left us two years ago. Now if she would just stop stealing my spot in bed when I visit the bathroom in the dead of night...

Peter & Ellen Got Married (By Me, of All People!)

Pete and Ellen have been a couple for well over a decade now, so when he proposed to her a couple of Christmases ago, it felt both inevitable and shocking all at once. I can't remember if they asked me to emcee or if I just offered it up, but that was established soon afterwards. 

A little while after that though, they asked me if I would conduct the civil ceremony for them, and that was surprising.

It turns out that in Alberta you can apply to become a Temporary Marriage Commissioner, with a one-day appointment. I felt tremendously honoured to have been asked, so I filled in the application form, read all the documents they sent me, and took custody of Pete & Ellen's marriage license and registration paper.  Then yesterday I married my dear friends on a beautiful autumn day with about 130 friends and relations in attendance.

What a wonderful day! What an amazing experience.

The ceremony and reception was held at the Chateau Louis here in Edmonton, outdoors in a lovely gazebo and on an unseasonably warm October day. Pete had offered to tux me up for the affair, and seeing increasingly few opportunities to wear one in the future, I had gratefully accepted; this meant I was also thankful for the shade the gazebo provided.

Pete and Ellen cleverly reversed the traditional bride and groom colours because hey, this was hardly a typical wedding, and more critically, Ellen looks great in black and knows it. This is probably why she allowed her daughter and Maid of Honour Liz to make her try on a designer gown when they were supposed to be shopping for Liz's grad dress. And it was by a New York designer and hand beaded and worth thousands of dollars but was also the last one and there was something funny about one of the armpits so she got it for a steal. 

The rest of the wedding party looked great in their tuxes and dresses, especially the bridal processional in their white Snoopy sneakers.

Ellen's mum Margaret read "The Art of Marriage" by Wilferd Petersen, but when Pete's ghodaughter read "All I Know About Love" by Neil Gaiman, the emotions really began to swell. 

This is everything I have to tell you about love: nothing.
This is everything I've learned about marriage: nothing.

Only that the world out there is complicated,
and there are beasts in the night, and delight and pain,
and the only thing that makes it okay, sometimes,
is to reach out a hand in the darkness and find another hand to squeeze,
and not to be alone.

It's not the kisses, or never just the kisses: it's what they mean.
Somebody's got your back.
Somebody knows your worst self and somehow doesn't want to rescue you
or send for the army to rescue them.

It's not two broken halves becoming one.
It's the light from a distant lighthouse bringing you both safely home
because home is wherever you are both together.

So this is everything I have to tell you about love and marriage: nothing,
like a book without pages or a forest without trees.

Because there are things you cannot know before you experience them.
Because no study can prepare you for the joys or the trials.
Because nobody else's love, nobody else's marriage, is like yours,
and it's a road you can only learn by walking it,
a dance you cannot be taught,
a song that did not exist before you began, together, to sing.

And because in the darkness you will reach out a hand,
not knowing for certain if someone else is even there.
And your hands will meet,
and then neither of you will ever need to be alone again.

And that's all I know about love.

It is a wonderful piece, and Miranda is getting married herself next year, so it may have been more impactful due to that, but when her voice caught twice during the reading, and she shook an accusatory finger at Pete, you could see the ocular humidity increasing throughout the assembly. Which I appreciated, being who I am, except that it didn't make it any easier to read what I had prepared.

I had asked the happy couple if they wanted me to say anything during the ceremony - a short message I kept erroneously referring to as a homily, but essentially a secular sermonette, if you will. Pete had grinned when I asked and said, "Well, knowing your background and eloquence - yeah, we are kind of expecting it, actually!" 

So here is what I said.

When I was a kid, I remember a series of ads for Reese’s peanut butter cups; chocolate and peanut butter would somehow, improbably get mixed together, with one person exclaiming, “Hey, you got your chocolate in my peanut butter” and the other person replying “you got your peanut butter in my chocolate!” They would then taste the combination and exclaim this is great, and the tagline was “two great tastes that taste great together.”

I had thought for years that this ad campaign, widely remembered by people of my generation  - show of hands? - meant that this tasty confection was introduced in the 1970s, but I recently learned that they actually date back to 1928, and have been a perennial best seller ever since. In terms of longevity, you might say the snack “has legs” - it has lasted a good long while.

The Reese’s success just goes to show you that you never know what combinations are going to work, right? Take Pete and Ellen, for instance…

I met Ellen shortly after she and Pete became a couple but I’ve known Pete since university days

Pete and I became friends because he was the roommate of a friend of mine, and we would meet when we ended up at their place playing our various nerdy games. Look me up later, the list is far too exahsuticve and not the point. 

We discovered a number of shared interests and appreciation for each other’s wit, and he was one of the few Alberta friends who made it out to visit Audrey and I when living in Toronto. He’s been a true friend of the family ever since.

And I immediately loved Ellen because of her forthright expressiveness, that a person with so much charm and empathy was once described as being as blunt as a mud fence. And dedicated parenting? There might be better examples of the mother bear archetype out there somewhere, but most of them tend to stay off social media and stick to the darker ends of the National Parks system and the boreal forest.

I was immensely honoured to be asked to officiate their wedding ceremony here today.

Those of you who know the happy couple are no doubt well aware of just how diametrically opposed their two households are in most ways

Nerd vs jock, bachelor vs family, a woman who loves pets vs a man rumoured to have bought one of those digital hatrchliing toys, a Tamagotchi, just so he could watch it perish.

Human interactions are notoriously complex - how do you know when a relationship has staying power, has the capacity to go the distance, or “has legs” as one might say?

I have a funny feeling that if we shot Pete & Ellen up with some sodum nambathol or other truth serum and asked them independently we might get some different answers between them, and that is fine, but as a third party, let me tell you when I knew.

My increasingly faulty memory says it was St., Paddy’s Day about nine years back - my church had a festive dinner and my daughter’s Irish Dance School was performing, so Pete, Ellen, Kai and Elizabeth joined us. After dinner, I watched restless Malachi crawl all over Pete, as a restless boy that age is wont to do, and marvelled at the fact that Pete was not taken aback by this in the slightest. Watching Pete transition into a dad-like space like that was at once jarring and reassuring. 

Other examples came later - the driving, the cheering, the math tutoring and t-short that read “Bonus Dad,” they were these tiny milestones that marked a transition from satisfied bachelor to happy father-figure and today - husband.

And conversely, we also have Ellen’s embracing some elements of a nerd culture she claims to despise, like dressing up as Rachel from Blade Runner for one of Pete’s legendary Geekquinox dinner parties. 

Truly, an impossible pairing - like peanut butter and chocolate. 

There is a continuum of weddings and this one is probably an outlier in many ways - not wide-eyed youngfolk, ready to leave home together, but two people from disparate backgrounds and interests who have improbably found love - lasting love

We can see the foundation they have spent the past decade creating together, the family that has risen so naturally in the fertile crescent created by the thin overlapping of their Venn diagrams, the clear sense of individuality that these four excellent people share paired with their immense and tangible commitment to each other and which is shared by their extended families - can I get an Amen? -  and by their many friends - do I hear a “testify!”? - 

We all know the same thing, don’t we?

It's got legs. 

The rest of the ceremony involved me diligently reading the Civil Marriage Ceremony booklet I had been sent, trying not to trip over the words (occasionally successfully), and getting Pete and Ellen to repeat the critically important affirmations and vows. No one spoke up when I asked if anyone had a reason why the wedding should not take place, and I was grateful (even though I felt moderately prepared if someone did thanks to the clear instructions provided to me by Vital Statistics).

And we signed some documents, and just like that, they were legally wed! Astonishing.

I had not sought approval for my remarks beforehand, so after the wedding I asked Ellen if they had been all right; she wrapped me in a warm embrace and said "It was just what I wanted, something light, but something personal; something funny but meaningful - thank you!"

Well, I could have just died.

I got quite a few compliments about the ceremony but the most significant came from Ellen's stepdad Bill, who is getting on in years and who sent someone over asking me to come speak with him. I walked over to his wheelchair and shook his hand, and he looked me directly in the eyes and told me in a strong voice how much he had enjoyed listening to me, then asked how long I had been doing it. 

"Doing what?" I asked.

"Been a marriage commissioner," he said. It was right around here that Ellen's sister and bridesmaid Krista told me that Bill had been director of Vital Statistics for a number of years; hired all the marriage commissioners and had officiated no small number of marriages himself.

I sputtered and thanked him for the compliment and explained that marrying folks was probably a one-time gig for me, but he suggested I do it on a regular basis, which I took as a very high compliment considering the source.

The reception went very smoothly as well -  a limited number of toasts, a hilarious FAQ session from Pete & Ellen that they fit all their acknowledgements and thanks into, and then onto the dance floor. Audrey expressed some displeasure that her table (filled with friends I have known for decades) was the very last one picked to go to the buffet, but that was really the only sub-par bit, and random and unavoidable. Honestly.

Because the happy couple had designed the day to be less of a ceremony and more of a party/ reunion, it was a hit. Everyone had a great time catching up with people - all but one of the players from my 1995 D&D campaign were in attendance and I reconnected with one of my tightest high school pals for the first time in at least half a decade - and the dance floor was never empty.

I am not one for omens and auguries, but I believe every journey feels better when it gets off to a good start. Pete and Ellen had one of the best weddings I have ever attended, and I am certain all their friends and family share my delight and joy at having been able to be a part of it, and to continue to be a part of their new life together.

Building and Painting Tiamat, The Queen of Dragons

When the opportunity presented itself to wrap up our two-year online D&D campaign in person at G&G XVI we all leapt at the chance. 

After two years of playing the first big 5e module for D&D, Tyranny of Dragons, the adventurers were ready to join the final assault on the Well of Dragons and try to stop the summoning of the five-headed Queen of the Chromatic Dragons, Tiamat, or at least prevent her from getting too far into the Material Plane.

And although I have access to more than enough dragon models, none of them were the proper scale (or had the correct number of heads) to represent a creature of such mythical status. 

Thankfully Jeff stepped in with a 3D printable design he found from Lord of the Print and dropped off a box of resin parts he had printed just prior to my birthday. I am by no means a master painter and was both intimidated and excited to paint such an immense and detailed model. After washing the parts to make sure primer would stick without issue, I laid them out and began pinning some of the larger pieces together.

Some tiny holes made with a minuscule drill called a pin vise, a bit of brass wire and a few calluses later, the wings, tail structure and a few other delicate bits were sturdy enough to survive a moderate amount of transport. The primary wings were especially challenging, since Jeff's printer at that time was too small to print them in one piece. Still, a couple of pins and a bit of green stuff to conceal the gap and seam seems to have stood up thus far.

The next step was using green stuff (epoxy putty to fill in the gaps between some of the larger pieces of the main body. I've never been deft with this stuff and it can be unforgiving to work with, keeping some water on hand and a damp modelling tool made it easier to keep the putty relatively smooth.

After letting the putty cure for a day, it was time for undercoating with some white spray primer...quite a bit, actually, except for the rocky base which I primed black. Given the size of the model, I decided to paint the body, tails, wings, base and each head separately and then aseemble it all before touching up any issues with gaps. The idea of dropping the model while turning it or hooking a wing on something and dashing it to the floor gave me anxiety, and I wanted to take my time with the heads and their characterful faces.

I glued each head to a popsicle stick and slid each stick into a slit in a small cardboard box so I could prime them all without having them roll around or get stuck to anything. Plus it would make painting each head much easier.

I started by laying some base colours down on the body, using my new Army Painter SpeedPaints to get a bit more depth on the red and orange with a single coat.

The wings got a similar three-colour treatment, and I was very happy with how the SpeedPaints brought out a bit of the texture without any additional highlighting.

Then I worked a bit on the multicoloured tail and went back to the body and picked out a few scattered scales to paint a matching colour which you can see above, so the transition from red to blue or green wouldn't appear too abrupt. These pictures were taken a little later on after I added some highlighting.

Then I could finally get to work on the heads. Despite being an unlicensed model, each head conforms to the look D&D has established for their evil chromatic dragons: black, green, white, blue and of course, red. Each face was characterful, expressive and a joy to paint, so I am glad I mounted them on the sticks.

Well, mostly glad - when I went to remove the sticks, sometimes the glue was stronger than the wood, and I would have to file, sand or scrape some super glue and wood off the neck. Ah, well - the net result was still good!

With the heads done, it was time to go back and apply some highlights to the main body...

...and the wings.

The base was mostly drybrushing but I took the time to pick out the little details they included like skeletons and old weapons, as I knew I would want to glue Tiamat on there pretty quickly once her body was complete.

At last, after more than a week of fairly consistent modelling and painting,  I was ready to begin final assembly! First, gluing her feet to the base and then aligning the heads with the necks (and pinning them as well)...

...then adding the tail assembly, as well as a bit of putty work for the gaps.

Finally, the wings, which were perhaps the hardest parts to align, particularly after reinforcing the joins with wire pins.

Some minor puttying and a few touch-ups, and Tiamat was complete at last! My satisfaction at seeing her completely finished and varnished was nothing compared to the surprise, horror and delight when I brought her to the tabletop at G&G a few days later.

By far the largest and most challenging model I have ever worked on, I am very pleased with how she turned out and with the reaction to her presentation. I have a hard time imagining using her again, but I won't lie, I am still working on it.

In the meantime, Tiamat has a place of honour on top of my figure case, and at least one visitor to the Batcave has recognized her, which is also highly gratifying.