Vision & Design

Embarking on this Zine project leads, once again, to an intersection of my vision loss, at this point with design. In conversations with the designer working on the project with me, the question of art direction obviously arose, and there were samples of other work that we looked at. The drafts I had rendered, ineffectually at best, had a very clean, sparse look to them, contrary to most of the samples. 

I buy a lot of zines, and the current trend in RPG design seems to be in an opposite direction, tending towards the dark, grim, and forboding, or towards highly designed and colorful interfaces. Because of my vision loss, the current aesthetic hotness ramps up inaccessibility, though I can definitely see the appeal!

So what to do? Do I follow the wave, even if it means not being able to fully appreciate, let alone fully discern, the graphic design of my own product? Do I push, or insist, on a design that is accessible to me, but that others find uninteresting or unappealing? How does accessibility, visual accessibility, fit with the world of Knock, Mork Borg, and other cutting-edge publications? What are the interesting, design forward, user-friendly, accessible models that I/we can lean on, or draw from, for this project?

The first example, and I'm sure there will be others after I post this, is Luke Gearing's Volume Two Monsters &. It is riffing off of traveler, but also hazy in the background, and this choice resonates throughout the work. It is direct, easy to read, and simple to operate.

Once, Again, Into the Brink

Well, five years, new name, new scene, less vision, radical shifting gaming approaches, and lots of new directions. Perhaps the biggest shift since I last posted has been the loss of vision. Miniature games are now few and far between, in part because of the pandemic, but primarily because I can no longer make out many of the details or figures on the board. I have stopped painting for the same reason.

However, as I have adapted in the past, I continue to adapt now. I have shifted over to role playing games primarily, running multiple groups through a new and evolving world, The Dim. I've put together a cool little Zine, CraftWork, to make manifest how I think about role playing games at the moment, and that should be out in the world within the next couple of months. More on that later!

As far as directions in this venue, I can definitely see using it as a place to post additional content for the Zine, to address new changes and adaptations and disability issues in gaming, and, obviously, to share other sources and approaches that I find interesting.

Do You Choose Games or Do They Choose You?

It may seem obvious, but as life changes, your games probably should change as well. Income fluctuates, children come, grow up, and leave (then come back!). For me, all those things happened and my disability intersects in various ways with the changing circumstances. However, we can't escape some games; they have a hold on us, they have become part of who we are, so we are left with some choices.

Choose your games to fit your life and limitations. When I stopped being able to drive 15 years ago, I tended to play big games with big models, from tanks to Carnifexes, and I kept playing those games for a number of years. As time went on, I noticed I was spending more time, and money, on ways to get all that stuff into bags that were possible to manhandle onto the bus, as I had stopped being able to drive. I slowly shifted to skirmish games or variants, and now 15mm; I can head down to the store with a couple tactical options, dice, tape, rules, and templates in a backpack or shoulder bag. I still have several of the big armies, but they are reserved for when I can get a rides, larger events, etc.

The other route, definitely not mutually exclusive(!), is to let that mindworm of a game sit inside, ferment, for years, until another opportunity comes along. For example, I hardly have the time to sustain GM-ing a Role Playing Campaign, but every summer I run a week long camp for middle school students where my homebrew RuneQuest based world and system can see the light of day. While I started it over 35 years ago, and it lay dormant at times, every year I make progress on one small corner of the world, deliberately choosing areas of the landscape that I have not attended to previously, and the world grows and deepens just a little bit more.

Game Changers

When I started to think about games that changed the way I think, the list making became interesting. Then it became complex.

We played Capture the Flag at night in the woods as a teen. Bruce and Mark's family had a house near a lake in New Hampshire (See right for view from their barn), and the excitement built over the days preceding the event. With flashlights and flags, two dozen or so of us divided into two teams and spread out over acres of woods, old granite walls, and overgrown fields and pastures. Running, chasing, skulking, hiding, sneaking, shouts in the dark, chains of jailed players, and the end of night swim in the lake all combined in a swirl of nostalgia. This is everything a game could or should evoke, 40 years later: breathless excitement, anticipation, planning, and strong friendships.

As a game, it had a loose rules structure, no real boundaries except the center line, very low stakes, and a high level of repeat satisfaction/replayability, even though the basics did not change much at all. It was the interplay with the ephemeral qualities, I think, that propelled it into my head first. Would any other game capture all of this? Do they need to? Do they refract parts of it?

Operation Slapstick for Chain of Command

One game I am enjoying a great deal is Too Fat Lardies' Chain of Command, a platoon+ tabletop miniature game geared towards simulating small actions in the 1930s and 40s. It has been adapted and expanded to operate well in other time periods. One really nice aspect to the game and the company is the willingness to accept, even encourage, fan and enthusiasts' efforts.

While reading through source material and histories, I found Operation Slapstick, a brief operation at a turning point in the war. It was small enough to be researched, mapped, and turned into a series of scenarios. It easily could be made into a short campaign, with the defending side trying to delay the attacker as long as possible, but that was not our intent.

This project is not an effort at an exacting historical recreation, nor does it contain specific force breakdowns or lists. I adapted and adjusted, approximated, and took some artistic license. I attempted to make the series fun and reasonably balanced.

Please follow the link below for a .pdf of a series of scenarios based on Operation Slapstick, a British Airborne operation in S. Italy, September 1943.

Let me know what you think! Suggestions and corrections appreciated.

Size Matters

One aspect of gaming and creation that has been a HUGE boon is making terrain. With low vision, the scale of pieces gets much more manageable and the level of detail starts to matter less and less. Not that there isn't detail, but getting the dot in the eye or the blending on the cloak is not the level I am shooting at.

In making terrain I am going for feel, effect, or an overall look that speaks to the scale, game, setting, and the players. Terrain involves color, mass, shape, and how the pieces look as a group on the tabletop. How will the figures interact with the terrain? Can the players access everything? Is it stable? These are all questions where diminishing vision is not so much of an issue, where touch and feel matter.

On top of that, the tools are bigger! Saws, rasps, craft knives, big paint brushes, pots of paint instead of vials, pints of sand instead of pinches, and so on. Any mistakes are more easily covered up, incorporated into the design, or remedied.

Visibility

Keeping track of stuff on the table can be a major challenge. The following work for me. 

Buy bright accessories. 
With the option of fluorescent plastics, orange is the new black. I can see the templates and markers, and they are all glowy around the edges. If they don't come bright, paint them, mark them, or otherwise make them stand out.

Count things. 
I brought 10 figures in this box, 8 dice, etc. it may seem neurotic, but I have left Farseers, Swamp Gobbers, snipers, and servo-skulls to the hands of the fates, so I can't help it. I try to label my boxes and containers so I know I have everything, then sweep the table clean of scenery. This often shakes loose the odd figure. Also, check with the folks you are playing with, asking them if you have everything 

Put things down in one place. 

Not a good color scheme for the visually impaired...

Then put them there again after you use them. I am not so good at this, especially with my tape measure, which contrary to the bright accessory advice above, is still matte black, and which I put down in the oddest of places, like right in front of me, and then I can't find it. I also have been known to look for something which is in my hand, though this is probably not due to vision...