For the past 20 years I have helped Skeins spin their own stories, weaving them into a larger tapestry, the design of which could only be partially seen, partially understood - even by me. Furthermore, this design endlessly repeated itself, each iteration differing from the last thanks to new Spinners, new storyworlds, new choices made. We have at critical points made decisions that peeled away a layer of the meta-arc, but each revelation has merely served to revealed deeper mysteries and more unknowns. At times I've referred to this as The Drachurae Cycle and at one point, Bhaloidam was going to bear the same name (I'm really glad it doesn't, it's better than that).

Earlier this year, my Skein were present for the destruction of the world. Truth be told - they caused it intentionally, guessing (correctly) that only its destruction could save all of reality. And with that decision we began the meta-cycle anew, only this time three of the primary movers, the three recurring Weaver-controlled characters whose machinations have launched countless stories and even more conspiracies, well - this time those three characters' stories will be spun by the Spinners rather than by me.

This will give us insight into the how - if not the exact why - the cycle progresses, resulting in the creation and destruction of the world again and again. Perhaps it's the natural order, perhaps it's due to a flaw of design, or perhaps it's due to the presence of a hidden sinister force. Only time will tell, and as the title of this campaign suggests, we have all he time in the world.

Stay tuned for a post on Chapter 1: The Garden later this week, in which I'll share details about how we're using the Lifewheels a little differently for the first few chapters.

Give that a listen and add it to your mental queue for later when I post about how storytelling is actually a game.

I'm sitting in a coffee shop, using my new iPad to manage my social network feeds, update my blog, answer email, etc while I wait for my credit union to open so I can wire money to Panda GM for Bhaloidam.

But this post isn't about Bhaloidam.

And yes, I bought an iOS device and made my declaration of "my next computing device will be a tablet" come true, although not in the way I expected.

But this post isn't about that decision either.

A coupe of months ago I ran into a problem with Kubuntu on my netbook. It was related to the Ion2 card and the third party driver that made the GPU sharing work under Linux. Normally I would have spent a day or two resolving the problem, but I had work to do so I switched over to my Win7 part, synced my files from the moon (that one's for you, Courtney), and got back to it.

When faced with the decision of how to present Bhaloidam on the web, I abandoned my long-standing Wordpress install (along with its spaghetti bowl of plugins) and moved the whole shebang to a single Sqaurespace-hosted site.

This post is not about either of those things.

I'm pretty sure my next computer will be a Mac Mini and that I'll be buying a keyboard/case for my iPad before the summer is out.

I'm also not gong to talk about that right now.

But it does raise an ineresting question. Why is my relationship to my technology changing?

And that's what this post is really about.

I have hit a major milestone in my professional development. The first Bhaloidam handbook is done, off to the manufacturer, in the digital paws of backers, and available for free right here on this very website.

In addition to continued Bhaloidam plans, I have our next project's timeline to plan and start working on.*

Beyind that project, I have three more at the ready.

Next Tuesday we're closing on a house.

I've always said that every technology platform has strengths and weaknesses. Each is best suited to a different audience. I have been what my wife calls a Mucker. This has meant I'm more comfortable with Linux and Android. I not only don't mind, but rather enjoy, the technical challenges these platforms often provide. And if that came at the cost of being able to run games, or use an elegant UI, I was okay with that.

On the opposite end of the spectrum are Apple's platforms. Not only do they aim for stability and elegance, they often seem to directly thwart a Mucker's love of tinkering. But they're stable, secure, and - I have to admit - compelling platforms to use. They rarely get in your way when you set out to get some work done.

Windows lies somewhere in between the two. Not as stable or Mucker-proof as OSX, not as secure or customizable as Linux. My current Win7 install is already showing signs of needing a scrape and reinstall, something I used to have to do every 6-9 months if I wanted continued performance.

And the long and the short of it is - I no longer want to have to muck to get my work done. I enjoy my work far too much to have to stop and resolve crashes, solve configuration issues, or ensure all my third party drivers are up to date. Never mind deciding which graphics card drivers work best with my specific hardware, or what kernel will extend the battery life of my mobile device.

In short, I want my too sullied technology to melt and resolve itself into a dew. I want it to get out of my way and let me work.

And thus, I simplify the environments through which I move and get out of my own way.

* Renown is returning as To Rule Over Mars, with a clarified set of rules and a fun new aesthetic.

TRIGGER WARNING: Child Abuse

I can still viscerally remember reading Maurice Sendak's In the Night Kitchen for the first time. I found it on the library shelves of the Newark Valley Elementary School, took it over to a table, and forever changed the way I thought about reading. In fact, it forever changed the way I thought about life.

A darkness runs through Sendak's work. Even this seemingly light story about a dream evokes a sense of dread, even of impending horror. You're not entirely confident until the final page if Mickey will survive his ordeal intact.

This, of course, has made his books highly controversial. Whether the focus of the upset was the "ugly monsters" of Where the Wild Things Are, or the exposed genitals of Mickey in In the Night Kitchen, I believe the true concern over Sendak's work was that pervasive streak of darkness that runs through them.

As an abused child who came to learn very early that life contains dark elements, Sendak's book spoke to me on a very direct and very personal level. In the Night Kitchen especially, almost as if Sendak encoded a second layer of information in the book, just for me, to assure me that the events were not just a lark, not just a fanciful dream, but a terrible struggle for identity in the face of injustice and brutality.

The vulnerability of Mickey's forced nudity, the futility of donning a protective layer of pie-crust, the terror of a macabre trio of over-fed Hitler's (never did I confuse these menacing giants with Oliver Hardy) whose casual sing-song attempts to minimize their crime of baking, and by extension eating, a cake made with human flesh.

"Milk in the batter. Milk in the batter. We bake cake. And nothing's the matter."

All of these elements were too familiar to me at too young an age.

But throughout it all, Mickey remained brave, asserting his identity, trumpeting his successes, refusing to be silenced. Even his bravery reflected my trauma, turning harm and shame into celebration and pride as he stood - naked - and crowed, "COCK-a-DOODLE-DOO!"

It may strike you as odd, given how vocal a person I've become, but confidence in my right to express myself is a lesson I'm still learning. I suffer a great deal of anxiety whenever I assert my worth, or even simply ask someone for something. The enforced silence that went along with my abuse took a far greater toll than I'd realized and it took nearly passing out from a panic attack (more than once and both during the Bhaloidam Kickstarter project last fall) for me to realize the extent of my respondant training. With some help, both from mental health professionals and the ever-supportive and loving Rachel, I'm learning to speak-out without first building up a head of steam, whether it be anger or defensive posturing.

Yesterday was a rough day. Maurice Sendak, aged 83, died as a result of complications from a stroke. In accordance with what I imagine any artist would wish, I spent the day reflecting on how his vast body of work has touched my life. And I kept coming back to that first read of In the Night Kitchen. I could feel the paper under my fingers as I slowly turned the pages. I could feel the hush of the room around me, faint noises of a class on the playground outside the windows. The navy blue polyester skirt of the school librarian. And, of course, I revisited that first glimmer of awareness that I was not truly alone, that someone else had experienced horror in their life. That they remained confident and bold against all adversity. That, even if we should never meet, I had a friend who understood.

And I believe Sendak did understand. He struggled throughout his life with depression, his sexuality, fear, and self-expression. He shared details about his childhood on Fresh Air in an open and frank fashion. He seems to have often wrestled with life, possibly until his last moments.

But he used this struggle as an opportunity to share himself with the world, not close himself off. Speaking about his last book, Bumble-ardy, he told Terry Gross, "When I did Bumble-ardy, I was so intensely aware of death. Eugene, my friend and partner, was dying here in the house when I did Bumble-ardy. I did Bumble-ardy to save myself. I did not want to die with him. I wanted to live, as any human being does. But there's no question that the book was affected by what was going on here in the house. Bumble-ardy was a combination of the deepest pain and the wondrous feeling of coming into my own. And it took a long time. It took a very long time."

Thank you, Maurice Sendak, for sharing your journey with us. We will miss you, but we'll also celebrate, because you're free of the Night Kitchen at last.

Being Other:

Games, like most media, have the ability to let us explore what it’s like to be someone other than ourselves. While this experience may only encompass a character’s external circumstances–exploring alien worlds, serving with a military elite, casting spells and swinging broadswords–it’s most powerful when it allow us to identify with a character who is fundamentally different than ourselves–a different gender, sexuality, race, class, or religion. This official re-launch of the Blogs of the Round Table asks you to talk about a game experience that allowed you to experience being other than you are and how that impacted you–for better or for worse. Conversely, discuss why games haven’t provided this experience for you and why.