Just a Song

“Breathe,” he told Thorn. “Slowly. And time your steps to your breath.”

It wasn’t that the Tycherosi woman had no grace; there were times she moved like a shark through the water, hungry and with dark purpose. Other times, however, she acted like a child who was about to be hit, or who craved a toy she could not have. Song needed her to be consistent. They were about to swim among a different kind of shark, and those nobles would smell blood in the water.

“I’ve done this before, you know.” Her tone was a little indignant. “I taught at the university, and we would have parties all the time—some of them would be very nice, except you could feel their eyes always looking at you.”

He grinned. “Breathe. Exhale as you bring your good foot forward. No, don’t copy me exactly, you’ll need to focus on your left. As if you were about to lunge to stab someone.”

“I don’t need to stab anyone, Song.” Thorn met his eyes, and a chill ran through him. Those sleek, shining black eyes reminded the Skovlander that she was as much of a predator as he. Continue reading “Just a Song”

Arkham Horror: Lone Wolf

“Essex county? You sure you want to go there after that awful train wreck?”

Rex Murphy grabbed some pencils and threw them in his satchel. He looked at Minnie. “I’ve got to, Minnie. You remember that other night at the Clover Club?”

Lone WolfThe photographer frowned. “That one where you ran off and almost got yourself killed when some ‘rival thugs’ busted up the place?”

Rex pulled some petty cash from the drawer despite Minnie’s protesting gestures. “Wasn’t a rival gang.” He hadn’t slept since that night. Whatever that thing was, some amalgam of horrid spheres that moved and undulated and—no. He had to stop thinking about it.

She folded her arms and gave him one of her looks. “I know. I ain’t stupid. You aren’t as good at lying as you think, Rex.”

“Let me tell it to you straight, then: I’m going to Essex county. Alone. There’s something dangerous going on.”

“All the more reason we should go together.”


There was an awkward silence in the empty office, and Rex realized he had shouted at her. His heart sank, and he felt himself shaking.

“We’re a team, Rex,” Minnie whispered.

“No,” he repeated, slinging the satchel over his shoulder. “Not right now we aren’t. Tell Harvey… ah hell, I don’t know. And Minnie, please, for your own sake, don’t follow me.”

The door slammed shut behind him as he ran out.

Arkham Horror: The Card Game is a cooperative Living Card Game by Fantasy Flight Games. My vignettes are appreciative fanfiction of a game I love and highly recommend.

Arkham Horror: Prepared for the Worst

“We’ll need a few things,” Zoey said, leading them into a yard. She pulled a key out of her apron and walked over to a small shed. Skids followed her.

“Look, lady, I’m not saying I don’t appreciate your help back there. I mean, sure, I burned my house to the ground because this other woman—”

“My name is Lita,” the other woman interrupted. Skids sighed. He wasn’t sure which of the pair was the craziest. Roland was along, too, but he was a Fed and Skids wasn’t about to trust him, even with all hell breaking loose. Still, they were stuck in it now, whatever “it” was.

“Lita. Fine. I’m just saying I don’t know what a short-order cook is gonna have in her shed that could possibly—Jesus Christ.”

Prepared for the WorstThere was an arsenal in there. Two rifles, a shotgun, a rack of knives—not just the kind butchers used—and…

“Is that a sword?” Skids asked.

Zoey hefted the blade in her hand. Roland had already taken the initiative and picked up a shotgun, grabbing some shells off a shelf.

“For slaying demons,” she said while looking Skids right in the eyes.

“Yeah.” Skids frowned. “Yeah, I can tell this is gonna be a good night.”

Arkham Horror: The Card Game is a cooperative Living Card Game by Fantasy Flight Games. My vignettes are appreciative fanfiction of a game I love and highly recommend.

The Fall

Beaten and arrested by the Bluecoats, Lizete was interrogated for days. Her connection to the Firebirds, and their ringleader Rubix, was recent and questionable, but the ‘Coats wanted to call their investigation a success. Lizete’s only advocate came in the unlikely form of Inspector Narcus Prichard, who had been piecing together evidence against Rubix for months. But Lizete wouldn’t budge, and Prichard had to watch as his carefully assembled investigation unraveled at the hands of this woman.

Lizete Dalmore, aka Vestine, aka Adelaide, aka Crow—one of the last ones—hung for high crimes against the City of Doskvol and His Majesty the Immortal Emperor (All Glory to His Name) in a dreary courtyard in Ironhook, the only attendant being Harker, a friend of hers currently doing one of his many stints in the Hook.

As her neck snapped, a small pewter mantis tumbled from her hand, smuggled in by Harker and given to her there at the scaffold. It had belonged to Cricket, the ex-Firebird and former friend she had once been a fellow servant with at the Kellis estate so many years ago. Cricket and the Firebirds had killed Lizete’s gang, killed her friends, and destroyed the only place she’d ever truly felt at home. In a rage at the tower months ago, a lifetime ago really, Lizete fell from a window attempting to take revenge against her. She had been so angry, so broken.

There, at the end of the rope in Ironhook Prison, the broken girl finally stopped falling.

You can find more adventures of the Firebirds in our game of John Harper’s Blades in the Dark on DistractedElf’s Twitch channel every Monday from 21:00 – 01:00 Eastern Time or catch up on her YouTube channel 24 hours a day.

Arkham Horror: Helpless Passenger

“We need to restart the engine!” Jenny shouted, yanking her other pistol from her purse and slamming a magazine into it. “Leave him!”

Helpless Passenger

“I won’t!” Zoey clutched her cross in one hand, and tried to pull the frightened man to his feet. Outside she heard something scrambling on the side of the train. One of the demons, no doubt. There was something else… metal creaking. The bridge!

Suddenly a large form burst into the car. Zoey readied herself to face…

A dog?

“Duke, if he won’t move, bite him in the ass ’til he does!”

Zoey recognized the road-worn man calling out. The drifter she’d met back in town.

“Pete!” Jenny yelled, and Pete’s dog began barking loudly. “I thought they wouldn’t let you on the train.”

The passenger finally stood up, more afraid of Duke’s teeth than of pressing on ahead in this maelstrom.

“Don’t worry, ma’ams! Ain’t been a train they could keep ol’ Pete and Duke off of yet!”

“Fine, but we have to go!” Jenny nodded to the door, adjusted her hat, and sighed. “This is absolutely the last time I am riding coach.”

Arkham Horror: The Card Game is a cooperative Living Card Game by Fantasy Flight Games. My vignettes are appreciative fanfiction of a game I love and highly recommend.


It’s cold out tonight, and I’m worried about Taylor.

Of course, I’m at home, cozy in my apartment in southern Maryland, and Taylor is stranded on a moon somewhere between here and Tau Ceti IV.

I don’t know Taylor’s gender. I do know they’re young, a science student, and the last apparent survivor of a ship called the Varia. I know they cared about the rats they were tending to before everything went to hell. And I’m their only human connection.

I started playing Lifeline by 3 Minute Games yesterday. It’s a Choose-Your-Own-Adventure-style  game that plays out on your smart phone or watch in something similar to real time. Taylor starts trekking across the surface toward a destination, and I don’t hear anything for a few hours until something happens. Now and then I’m asked to make a decision. Should Taylor go east, or west? How about battering down a door versus leaving it alone?

Whenever my watch chimes with an incoming message I check to see if it’s from Taylor. I’m waiting right now, because I just pressed them onward to what might be something terrible, but I know staying put isn’t going to get them off that moon.

Tau Ceti is 12 light years from where I’m sitting. A little less than 4,000 kilometers away there is another person I care about, whom I’ve never met in person. Unlike Taylor, she isn’t fictional, nor am I her only hope to survive a barren world. Yet in much the same way, we stay connected to one another across the vast distance. I think about her, I worry about her, I try to plan ahead and figure out how to bridge that gap.

In the same way I want our relationship to grow and flourish, I want Taylor to live. I’ve questioned some of the decisions I’ve made. Lifeline is good at presenting you with several opportunities to “turn back” after you’ve committed to something. Taylor asks me what to do, achieves some of it or faces an obstacle, and asks me again if they should keep at it or stop?

Will this work? Am I thinking this through? Am I thinking too much? How can we overcome this barrier?

Taylor’s ultimately just a dialogue tree, but I feel for them. I wasn’t expecting it when I loaded Lifeline on to my watch, but there are broad parallels between this fictional situation I’m in, and my own personal one. Beaming back and forth across the void, we’re holding on to an intangible lifeline.

I want us all to make it through okay.


NOTE: This story is a fan work for Friends at the Table, and was originally published in the COUNTER/Weight Fan Zine, edited by Quinn Milton.

The door was open, and a ghost emerged. It was a raptor. Ibex watched as Detachment sped toward him, screeching pain and fear and joy. A still-open hatch in the Divine’s side offered him a view to the picked-over bones within. Something caught in his throat. He had not seen it, not that moment, and yet the memory burned within his mind as vividly if he had. A metal hand, reaching out…

* * *

The hatch was open. And there his younger brother, Jerboa—no: Quentin. Always Quentin. Lifeless. Floating. Ibex stood on the bridge of the Seventh Sun, choking down his pain and keeping his face a calm, stoic mask. The monitors of the ship flared with Righteousness, a brief, burning expression he could not allow himself to give. His nails dug in to his hand, bleeding…

* * *

“The door was opened,” Ibex said into the comm of the old Rigger. The thing belonged in a museum. Perhaps he did too. Time had picked them both clean. Ibex gripped the controls of the machine; it had no grace or order to it—modern OriCon tech couldn’t, why would something so ancient? Now he had to wait for the others. He touched the console, willing a righteous purpose he didn’t truly feel into his hands.

* * *

The ghost ripped at him. A fragment of Liberty, a memory of Quentin. The decaying husk of Detachment was still a raptor, and its circling talons tore an impotent arm from Ibex’s Rigger, then another, then another. Desperate for some last action, he launched a blade from the ancient mech, but Liberty or Detachment or whatever it was now batted it effortlessly away. “Damn it!” he shouted, slamming his fist down on the console. He had relied on Righteousness for so long; without it, how could he trust his own frail hands?

Something else was coming through the door. Something massive and undeniable. Rigour. Liberty relented in its assault, darted off and away, leaving only memories to rip at Ibex. “One last close call,” he muttered into the comm. They heard him, the gathered forces of the Golden Branch. Years in the making, one last hope for the sector. “That’s all this was.” He touched a few buttons on the console, diverting all his power into the thrusters, surrendering the Rigger’s useless arms. He didn’t make it far before his comm sprang to life and a familiar voice filled the cockpit. Another memory. His hands trembled.


Rigour approached him. It was close now, he could see inside. Ibex—no: Attar… it had been so long since he allowed himself to be Attar Rose—looked into the face of Maryland September, the woman he had loved. But the thing from beyond the door that looked back at him was only a skeleton, like everything else he had left.

Her metal hand, reaching out…

I’m sorry, Quentin.

Flensing his flesh from the bone…

It’s like I told you…

Attar, floating…

It’s a fucking vulture.

Trans Women Are Amazing

If more men, cis and trans, came out to talk openly about dating trans women, less trans women would be subject to violence and murder.

Morgan M. Page, July 26th, 2016

I like trans women.

No, we’re adults, let’s not be coy: I am sexually attracted to trans women.

Saying that, or writing that, sounds strange and fetishistic. That’s one of the reasons I’m writing this. We’re here in Transgender Awareness Month, and while I’m generally cynical about “awareness” as a method of social change, in light of what women like Morgan M. Page and others have said, I think this situation could use some airing.

Thanks to social media, over the last few years I’ve made the acquaintance or sometimes even the friendship of wonderful, talented trans women; it seems only natural that I’d fall for some of them.

There’s a lot to talk about in such a simple statement as “I find trans women attractive.” I worry about it, and not necessarily for the reasons you might guess.

First of all, to trans women, I worry about sounding like a chaser, basically someone who likes trans women solely because they are trans. I think the exact definition and opinion of chasers varies from woman to woman, but in general I get the impression they can be a bit creepy and obsessed with genitalia. Being interested in someone sexually tends to involve a bit of thinking about private parts anyway, but having had or not had top and/or bottom surgery isn’t something I hinge my attraction or acknowledgement of a trans woman’s womanhood upon.

I’d be lying, though, if I said “being trans” doesn’t play some part in my attraction to trans women. It’s certainly something I mull over: is that bad to think? It is transphobic? Trans women are women, and cis women are women, but trans women are not cis women and vice versa. I don’t know exactly how to talk about that, not just in the context of this blog but even to myself. Honestly in daily interactions it never comes up; I flirt with trans women in pretty much the same way I flirt with cis women. “Being trans” isn’t the entirety of why I might find a woman attractive, but it can be a part of why, and that’s as far as my current understanding goes. All I can really do is work on improving my perspective as time goes on.

When it comes to other cis folks, I’d like to think—at least among people I know and trust—that the reaction to what I’ve said is: No big deal. Were that the whole world was so easy. I don’t have to imagine disgust, or calls of “Well, don’t you like cis women?” (Or, to be more honest about how they’d put it, the awful “Well, don’t you like real women?”) I’ve seen those things. I’ve listened to men say them. Men who probably watch transgender porn, because a lot—and I mean a LOT—of cisgender men do.

I can’t say those things don’t affect me, or that I absolutely don’t have concerns about them. I do. I live in this society, I come up against my privileges just like anyone else. Yet a year or two ago I read something by a trans woman, which I can only paraphrase because despite my efforts to track down the quote I couldn’t find it. Basically, if all the men who watched trans porn stood up for the rights of trans women, they would have nothing to fear.

There are of course other men who’ve written about being attracted to trans women. Several have been published by major outlets. Laverne Cox even had some things to say about men who like trans women. One thread I always see running through these articles, and it’s one that irks me, is the constant reassuring to straight cis men that liking trans women doesn’t make them gay. Are we truly so fragile that we need this constant coddling?

The answer is a resounding yes. We are immensely fragile about our manhood and our identities as heterosexuals that men kill trans women they are attracted to because they are attracted to them. That is quite frankly one of the most fucked up things in the world. As actress Jen Richards says:

There’s a huge bag of homophobia and transphobia right here. It literally kills people. That’s why it is important for men to talk about this, and talk about it openly, respectfully, and aware.

Just like cis women, not all trans women are interested in men, but for those who are, the risk of being involved with cisgender men can be extreme. The responsibility doesn’t fall on those women not to be attracted to men; it’s on us men to stop constantly reinforcing the awful culture we’ve created. We’re not going to do that by staying silent.

“If cis men do not get engaged in conversations about the trans women they date WITH the trans women they date we’ll continue to see violence”

Morgan M. Page, October 11th, 2016

I also worry that these words fall flat because I haven’t actually dated any trans women. I’m more likely to meet cis women in my day-to-day life anyway, and in a small, conservative-ish city like my own those odds are even greater. Yet I knew I liked cis women long before I ever dated them, and no one would question that. I’m not worried about “actually” being into trans women. A much more real concern, one I know trans women often have to grapple with, is if I’d suddenly give in to that societal shame and say, “I can’t do this.”

Of course, the Internet helps with making connections, but then there are the issues of distance and resources. There is, at this very moment, a woman I’m quite taken with but I lack the funds to take any real steps toward seeing that further. And I’m generally petrified of dating apps. But these are things for me to sort out on my own.

Trans women are awesome, they’re funny, they’re hot, they’re smart. They don’t deserve any of the shit they get on a constant basis. This single blog post isn’t going to change the world, or make life better for them, but like so many other things we need to start talking. In an increasingly hostile world such as the one we’re facing, with the US election looming in two days’ time, we have to start doing something because people are dying.

I’ll continue to give trans women the support I’ve tried to, and be more honest about my affections.

Not Built For It

Son, are you okay?

I am thirty-two years old, and my father has walked in to the house to find me furiously sobbing. His immediate instinct is to offer me comfort. I shake my head, wave my hand at the cellphone on the small serving table in front of me, and manage to choke out the words: “It’s a stupid radio show.”

It’s actually a podcast, but there’s no way I’m going to detail the differences to my father in my current state. Potential danger to his offspring averted, he nods, offers up an “Okay, then”, and goes to change out of his work clothes and probably wonder just where he went wrong as a parent.

The podcast in question was the season finale of COUNTER/Weight, the second season of Friends at the Table, “an actual play podcast about critical world-building, smart characterization, and fun interaction between good friends.” I had spent most Thursdays of the last year of my life tuning in to several strangers playing a role-playing game, and having a wide variety of intense feelings about the lives of their fictional characters.

I’m such a big fan, I help edit the wiki.

The COUNTER/Weight wiki was started in January of 2016 by my now-friend @ice_cream_jones. I leapt for the opportunity to help out. I had already been kicking around the idea of making a guide to the ever-increasing number of characters and relationships in the series. I hadn’t had an audience in mind for the guide, it was more of an exercise for myself, but here was this wiki for this great series I listened to and why shouldn’t I help put some detail into it?

Shaun Joins the Counterweight Wiki
My first day on the job.

What would become the “Counterweight Wiki Council” formed pretty quickly. There were six of us, each eager to contribute. A Slack channel was set up, and we established some tentative plans for what the wiki would entail. Episode synopses, character histories, plenty of links to figure out just who was related to whom. We discussed how to feature fan art, and I recall sending a nervous e-mail to Carey Pietsch, who is a professional comic artist and one of the more prolific fan art creators. 

One of the intentions behind the wiki was to create a resource not only for fans, but also for the creators of Friends at the Table. You get enough characters and situations in your game, it starts getting difficult to quickly connect the dots. Wouldn’t it be great if we had all the characters, their affiliations, their physical appearances, and notable connections all in one easy-to-access place?

Those were the days.

SPOILER ALERT: we talked about spoiler alerts. There was a bit of a debate on how to deal with them, or if we should deal with them. After all, people were starting to listen to the show more and they’d surely want information about who all these fictional characters were. At the same time, wasn’t the wiki supposed to be an easily accessible resource to connect the dots between characters?

Spoilers were the first sign of impending difficulties. The allegiances of factions or characters changed; did we make separate pages for each of those, include those all on a single page, or what? Did we display the most recent information about a character, thus spoiling things, or only show the initial data and put everything else behind spoiler tags?

Austin is very cruel to Orth and Orth doesn't deserve that at all. Shame on you, Austin.
We never shied away from the hard truths, though.

Those episode rundowns were a lot of work, too. An episode of Friends at the Table runs anywhere from 1–2 hours, and that’s not counting the rather epic holiday special (and eventually the massive finale). The point of the wiki was to be a comprehensive guide, and so it was important to capture all the details. That meant listening a lot. That meant taking notes. It meant hitting the rewind button again, and again, and again. I made a detailed outline of the first episode, at some point. It was nine pages long. I think I listened to nothing but Episode 01: I Would Like A Bribe for four days straight.

On the 25th of February, 2016, I made two tweets that were a portent of things to come:

On some level, though, it had felt like work, hadn’t it? You don’t put in four days of effort on cataloguing a single episode of a show and say, well, no effort on my part really. Hell, we’d been mentioned on the show! What a thrill!

The members of the wiki had grown closer and started to get to know one another. I ran a Fiasco game with @ice_cream_jones and @Hadrian, and it was a blast. I wanted to do more. I’d been in a roleplaying drought for years, and it felt good to be back in the swing of things. Helping out with the wiki had me hungry for more than just listening.

In April I started a game of The Sprawl, which had become available for public purchase. It was great listening to it on the podcast, how great would it be to actually play it? Fan artist Emily Blau caught wind of my tweets and asked if she could join, and so we invited her in to our little circle.

Playing The Sprawl was great. It still is great! It was everything I wanted. It felt good to be back in the saddle after so many years of not running a game. Here were people I connected with, who weren’t the bickering players I found myself encountering time and again during the past few years I’d tried to play offline.

More and more, we were doing less and less on the wiki. Every now and then we’d bring it up. It was something we were behind on, something we needed to buckle down and get back to. Then every other Friday would come along and we’d get wrapped up in the messy cyberpunk world of the Southern Florida Metropolitan Area. Or we’d share YouTube videos, or photos, or art, and we’d cry about the latest episodes together and we’d talk about our lives.

I’d feel a pang of guilt on occasion. The cast would go to look up something and I knew it wasn’t on the wiki. We hadn’t put it there yet. Most of it still isn’t there yet.

I am thirty-three years old, and I am worried about my roommate walking in to the apartment to find me furiously sobbing. I have no idea what she would think, here at two in the morning as I huddle over my laptop writing. There’s a new episode of Marielda coming out today, the lead-in to the third season of Friends at the Table, and on the FatT Discord server people are discussing how to best manage a Hieron wiki.

In an interview on First Person Scholar following the season finale of COUNTER/Weight, Austin Walker said:

But the phrase, “the continuing adventures of the Golden Branch sector,” makes me feel like a failure in that the thing I want to get across with Friends at the Table is the joy of collaborating with your friends and building a world that’s yours. That’s interested in the problems that you’re interested in. […] I don’t want to publish the encyclopedia, to come back to that. I don’t want to give you the catalogue because I don’t want you to be satisfied with the catalogue.

So here I am, part of the Counterweight Wiki Council, presiding over a site that is devoid of activity, but we ourselves are absolutely brimming with potential and life. As Austin said, “we have escaped the pull of the encyclopedia.”

I don’t think I will ever stop listening to Friends at the Table. I love it too dearly. But nothing will ever quite compare to the very long day I spent with the COUNTER/Weight wiki. And I’ll revisit those memories, and relisten to them time and time again to laugh and to cry and just for the hell of it. But I don’t think I’ll ever write down another word of what I hear there.

I’m just not built for it.