Friday, November 30, 2007
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Magi cooked a wonderful turkey on Thanksgiving Day. I had not eaten solid food for three days, and she made a Thanksgiving dinner that I could eat comfortably. She even made adjustments to the sweet potatoes so I could eat them (she usually uses pecans). I thought it was the most wonderful turkey ever, but she thought it was a little dry. She had used a method of cooking she had watched on Food Network and was not satisifed.
We went out to get groceries on Saturday night and she still was talking about the turkey and about how if she had to do it over again, she would have used her tried-and-true method. All of the white meat was gone by then and she's not a big dark meat fan, so as we passed by the turkeys, I suggested she make another so we could have sandwiches for lunch all week. She immediately grabbed the exact same-sized turkey and put it in the cart! On Sunday, she did just that. It was perfection, of course, and you could see the pride in her eyes when she cut the breast open and it was as moist as could be. We've now had even more wonderful turkey sandwiches and at this moment, she has the leftover turkey in a soup cooking in the stock pot with carrots, celery, and onions.
I love the fact that she cares so much about the food she prepares for us. I love the fact that she has such personal pride in what she does. But I think what really gets me the most is the love in her eyes when Sera and I show how much we enjoy what she cooks. Love really is the most important ingredient in our lives.
And you thought this post was about turkey!
Monday, November 26, 2007
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Saturday, November 24, 2007
An hour later, while we were at the grocery store, she broke out into hives around her wrists and hands, with one on her eye. We went over any new food she had tried, finding nothing on the list (despite remembering being amazed that she ate a slice of lime with gusto), and then remembered the pepper. She had rubbed some on her eye while she was getting tired at the grocery store, too. A soothing bath later, she was fine. The hives are gone, the redness is gone, and she's fast asleep.
Then I started kicking myself. Gee, genius, they make a spray out of this stuff that is a skin and eye irritant. You think it's a good idea to put a 19-month old's hands in the stuff? We've washed all of her clothes, including her bath towel, so there's not much chance of it coming back.
Hives aside, I find myself strangely at peace tonight. We have our tree up and lit, it was a beautiful night to be out with family, and my oral surgery has cleared my sinuses. For the first time in a year, I have been able to breathe through both my nostrils for an entire week. I thought it was allergies that prevented me from breathing well, but as it turns out at least part of the problem had to do with my upper wisdom teeth. The learning continues.
*We have two ways of eating at Carrabba's. One is celebratory, where we order bruschetta or a wood-fired pizza and a full dinner of Chicken or Steak Marsala and drinks, usually about $70. Then there's the way we went tonight, which we call "Carrabba's on the Cheap." Spaghetti with meatballs and meat sauce with angel hair pasta for two, with salad, bread and soda, $33 with child's meal. We do this one far more often than the first. That's usually saved for birthdays and anniversaries.
Friday, November 23, 2007
Magi and I have no family within 700 miles of here, so we use Amazon.com to take care of Christmas. Free shipping is wonderful! So instead of leaving the house to fight the crowds, we get to set up our Christmas tree and spend time with each other instead.
Sera touched snow for the first time today. She was nervous about it at first, but when she saw me pelt the dog in the face with a light snowball (which he ate, of course), she wanted to try it too. With the look she had for snow, I can hardly wait to see what she thinks of the Christmas tree with all of its lights!
Thursday, November 22, 2007
and the finale...
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
His website has a number of cool features, too. He has "How to Draw" sections for the X-Men Evolution characters, including hand theory, one of my weak points. His theories on animated design are a lot like others I have seen (draw straight lines opposing curves, for example) but it's good to have it all in one place. If you ask me, I think he should be putting out a book on how to draw for animation. He has more useful stuff on his website for free than many of the books I've paid for.
Monday, November 19, 2007
The swelling has already gone down considerably and the pain pills are doing their job for the most part. Eating is an adventure, but that will make Thanksgiving that much more enjoyable.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
The game setting was in the Top 10 world created by Alan Moore and South Bend native Gene Ha. Eric went to high school with Gene, and he's kind of a local hero to many of us. Anyway, the game was set in the Top 10 world of Neopolis, where supers are called "science heroes" or "science villains" and the world is just full of them. So many that there are too many to fight crime and they all have to get jobs. Our group was a set of US Marshals assigned to prisoner transport, pre-created by Eric. I played Astro Hound, a robot ("Post Organic") dog who was formerly the sidekick of the Silver Space Hawk. I was drinking a can of Cherry Coke and when it was time to speak in character, I drained it and talked into the can so that my voice had a metallic sound. It cracked the new guy up. The new guy, Jason, played Waypoint, a character who could teleport and phase through objects. Steve played Nightwren, a darkness-based character.
The story opened as we were transporting a science villain named Captain Seven to Neopolis from San Francisco. Captain Seven had run a church called the Order of the Sept and had been convicted of tax evasion. We were just outside of Neopolis in a rural area when the bus had to stop because of a downed tree. When the driver stopped, a 15-foot tall red guy overturned the bus. We quickly got out of the vehicle and confronted the bad guys who were obviously there to break out Captain Seven. We lost the initial fight as the bad guys cast some kind of impenetrable mist and made off with the prisoner, leaving us blind in their wakes.
As we made our way to the station house to file our reports, we started doing some research to find out who these guys were. A couple of names were quickly called up and we used some good old-fashioned detective work to find out some of the formerly imprisoned bad guys' unusual habits. We discovered that the big red guy was called Blood Envoy and that he actually had to absorb blood to survive. The church that Captain Seven had run was located in San Diego, so we started there. We found out that a slaughterhouse had experienced a break in recently and there had indeed been blood stolen. We went to the church itself and discovered a Kirbyesque machine in the basement that was transmitting illegally wired cable television into another dimension! Assuming that was the source of the untaxed income that Captain Seven was imprisoned for hiding, we took the device and removed it from the church to a place of our choosing for the rematch, thinking that they would be on the way to find out what happened to their revenue source. Sure enough, when the bad guys arrived, our new plan and choice of opponents paid off and we defeated them, recovering the prisoner.
The game itself moved quickly and we had fun playing it, but that's hardly ever the most fun that gamers have. It's the fun of the comments made in between combat turns and the in-jokes that only we would get. One such joke was when we would make our "you're under arrest" statements and someone would throw in a Firefly reference ("You are bound by law"), bringing laughter to the whole table. It's this kind of humor that binds people like us and separates us gamers from the everyday crowd. I value this kind of camaraderie and I'm looking forward to having a regular game to play in with guys I've known for many years.
Posting might be irregular here for the next few days. I'm getting my wisdom teeth pulled tomorrow and I'm told that the medication can make you a bit loopy. I sure hope so! I don't want to hurt like I have this past week.
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Here's an op-ed by Lost producer/writer Damon Lindelof that claims that episodes of Lost have been downloaded "hundreds of millions of times." The producers claim that there's no money in the internet? Let's lowball the estimate and say that there have been exactly 100,000,000 downloads. If the writers were paid a tenth of a cent per download, they would be receiving $100,000 instead of the $0 they get now. Think the producers made nothing on the downloads? Think again.
The last WGA strike in 1988 lasted 22 weeks. This one, unless the producers put electronic media residuals back on the table, will go longer.
Friday, November 16, 2007
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Back when I was growing up we hunted, fished, canoed, swam, and did all the outdoorsy stuff. Sometimes I really miss that. Sera really loves the outdoors and today we had snow flurries. I can't wait to see her rosey cheeks outside in a pile of snow. She is going to have so much fun!
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Top 50 Favorite Songs EVER!
These are not necessarily in order:
Don’t Stop Believin’—Journey
Edge of Seventeen—Stevie Nicks
Hotel California—The Eagles
Sultans of Swing—Dire Straits
Baker Street—Gerry Rafferty
Broken Wings—Mr. Mister
We are the Champions—Queen
Celebration—Kool and the Gang
The Way it is—Bruce Hornsby and the Range
The Devil Went Down to Georgia—Charlie Daniels Band
Comfortably Numb—Pink Floyd
Don’t Stop—Fleetwood Mac
YMCA—The Village People
Star Wars Main Title Theme—John Williams
Superman Main Title Theme—John Williams
Dirty Laundry—Don Henley
Where the Streets Have No Name—U2
Learning to Fly—Pink Floyd
When You Love a Woman—Journey
Money for Nothing—Dire Straits
Heart of Rock & Roll—Huey Lewis and the News
Miami Vice Theme—Jan Hammer
In the Air Tonight—Phil Collins
Danger Zone—Kenny Loggins
Eye of the Tiger—Survivor
Don’t Let Him Go—REO Speedwagon
Still Rock & Roll to Me—Billy Joel
Love will Keep Us Together—Captain and Tennille
My Sharona—The Knack
9 to 5—Dolly Parton
Kiss on My List—Hall & Oates
Eye in the Sky—Alan Parsons Project
Down Under—Men at Work
Centerfold—J. Geils Band
Maneater—Hall & Oates
Do You Really Want to Hurt Me?—Culture Club
Owner of a Lonely Heart—Yes
The Heat is On—Glenn Frye
You Belong to the City—Glenn Frye
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Code Name: Domino
Real Name: Paul LeMasters
Occupation: Student/Lucky Dog vendor
Marital Status: Single
Known Relatives: None (orphan)
Place of birth: Unknown, assumed to be New Orleans
Date of birth: Unknown, birth certificate says 10/31/1987
Group affiliation: Nightwatch
Base of operations: New Orleans
First appearance: Nightwatch #1
Height: 6’ Weight: 175 lbs.
Eyes: Blue Hair: Black
Paul LeMasters was found abandoned on the steps of an orphanage in the Ninth Ward of New Orleans, Louisiana in November, 1987. It is estimated that he was no more than a month old when he was found. Given a name by the priest who ran the orphanage, Father Paul Chauvin, LeMasters was raised in this very poor community with little support. Despite this disadvantage, Paul developed cognitively and physically at an amazing rate, easily memorizing anything he could detect with his five senses. Unbeknownst to Paul, several families had tried to adopt him, but Father Paul denied them all, keeping young Paul at his side.
When he reached fifth grade, Paul received a scholarship to attend Holy Cross School, where he excelled for the next seven years. With his amazing muscle memory, Paul found that he could bowl a perfect 300 game after the first time he saw a bowler roll a strike. After watching a no-hitter at a Zephyrs game, Paul became a dominant high school pitcher, with several major league teams preparing to acquire his services after his final year of high school. With a perfect SAT score in-hand, Paul was courted by university after university. At the beginning of his senior year, Hurricane Katrina struck the city and Holy Cross School was damaged beyond repair, like most buildings in the Ninth Ward.
Father Paul had arranged for the children of the orphanage to be evacuated to Houston, but he was strangely compelled to get back to New Orleans. Taking young Paul with him, Father Paul was forced to sneak back into the city. Wading through filthy flood waters, the pair approached the orphanage in the dark. Debris flowed past and around them as they made their way up the steps. When they reached the top, Father Paul crossed himself as he saw the orange spray painted “X” on the door. At the top of the mark was “9/30/05,” the date that the building had been checked. To the left was “NOPD,” and on the bottom a zero, indicating that no one had been found dead inside. The powerful stench of mold almost overwhelmed young Paul, but Father Paul remained steadfast. He marched to the top of the stairs where his office was located, while young Paul remained at the door, illuminated only by the moon. Suddenly, the sound of splashing footsteps took Paul by surprise and he was bowled over by two burly men. A knife was immediately at his throat.
The office where Father Paul had gone remained silent, but from high above, a cloaked man descended onto the two men from a shattered window. The knife disappeared from young Paul’s throat and the snapping sound of a spiral fracture from the burly man’s wrist could be heard over the pounding heartbeat in Paul’s ears, followed by a primal scream of rage and pain. Paul tried to clear his head, but the suddenness of the attacks had left him disoriented in the dark.
“Paul! Get down!” came Father Paul’s shout, but young Paul could not locate its source. All he saw was a masked man squaring off with the other thug, who had drawn a small revolver. The gun fired wildly, the muzzle flash blinding Paul momentarily, while the rustling cloak seemingly swallowed the man completely. The pair momentarily grappled, and the rotten wood floor beneath the pair began to give way. The cloaked man began to fall, and then a final shot rang out. As the cloaked man collapsed through the gaping hole in the floor, the looter grabbed his friend by the arm, eliciting another scream, and bolted for the door, the pair falling down the final three steps into the water. They scrambled to their feet and disappeared into the night.
Paul rolled the fallen hero onto his back, and to his surprise he saw the kind face of Father Paul behind the mask, smiling oddly serenely, despite the terrible, gaping wound in his chest. As blood bubbled from Father Paul’s chest, he rasped out his final words. “Paul,” he whispered, “when one Domino falls, it sets another into motion.” With his last breath, Father Paul withdrew a key from the cuff of his glove and pressed it into Paul’s hand. With that, Father Paul was dead.
LeMasters removed Father Paul’s simple costume, but left the body on the doorstep of the orphanage, where he tipped off the police it could be found. He used Father Paul’s cell phone to make the call, made mental note of all the numbers and contacts in the address book and promptly threw it over the levee into the slowly receding waters. Paul searched the priest’s office and found nothing salvageable there. He discovered a hidden watertight compartment behind a statue, from which he guessed Father Paul had gotten his disguise. He watched over Father Paul’s body for two days from a safe distance until the police arrived to pick it up. They changed the “zero” marked on the door to a “one.” A single tear fell from Paul’s eye. He blinked it away and fell fast asleep, nearly exhausted from his vigil.
Father Paul’s funeral was a short affair, attended by few. Most of the Ninth Ward evacuees remained out of the city, and there were few workers available to handle entombments when there was so much work to be done. Father Paul’s body was kept in storage until the archdiocese was able to claim it and place it in their mausoleum. Paul held back tears until he found himself reliving the moment of Father Paul’s death in excruciating detail. When the gun went off for the last time in his mind, he fell to the ground, doubled over by his guilt.
It was weeks before Paul found the key’s lock. He knew it was for a Wells Fargo safety deposit box, but he had no way of knowing which branch it was in. Temporarily employed by Entergy, the local power company, Paul worked in the city as one of the few allowed to remain within the city limits. As part of the crew working to restore power to Wells Fargo, Paul used the chance to work his way to the deposit boxes. Finally finding the correct box, Paul emptied its contents into a backpack and went back to work until the end of the day, when he deliberately let it slip that he was only 17 years old. Freed of his obligation to the company, he picked up his final check and went to work.
The backpack contained several items, including a 16mm movie reel. Paul headed back to the orphanage, equipped with a gasoline-powered generator he had borrowed from Entergy. He knew Father Paul kept old equipment of the type he needed. Pulling out an old Bell & Howell projector from the audio/visual storage room, Paul threaded the film from memory, marveling at the age of the celluloid, which had been spliced in several places. Using a moldy bed sheet as a screen, Paul watched as his future unfolded on old linen.
In a series of clips dating back to before talkies, men dressed in cloaks and simple domino masks explained and demonstrated what it means to be the next in succession in a long line of costumed adventurers called Domino. “From the time of the American Revolution,” the movie explained, “there has been someone called Domino fighting injustice. Sometimes from the barrel of a gun, sometimes from the blade of a sword, other times with empty hand, but always fighting to preserve justice and the ideals of decent people, Domino has prevailed.”
“Under usual circumstances the passage of the mask goes from father to son, but when that is impossible, a successor receives these instructions. If you are watching this, your predecessor was unable to train you him or herself. Follow these steps carefully, and within a few years you will be ready to take up the mask.”
Paul shut off the projector and paused quietly in the dark to think. Was Father Paul waiting for me to turn 18? Was that what the desperate trip to the orphanage all about? Why was I selected? My memory tricks? The fact that I have no family? He turned the projector back on and finished watching. In the last few minutes it was clearly Father Paul behind the mask, talking about taking advantage of modern technology to keep up with criminals. First thing I need to do is transfer this film to digital storage, Paul thought to himself. Wait. Does that mean I’m doing this? Of course it does. I owe Father Paul everything.
Paul watched the film again in his mind. Every detail burned into his memory, he made his plan. Digging into the backpack, he found a passport in his name for which he remembered applying when he was 16, $50,000 in cash, the key and deed to a French Quarter apartment, a Credit Suisse account number, and a detailed map of Northern China, with a mountaintop marked in red. Perfect, Paul thought, I already speak Spanish, French, and Creole. I always wanted to learn Mandarin. Also in the backpack was a simple black leather mask, sculpted to match his facial features on the inside, but padded within to disguise the contours of his face. Attached was a Post-It note reading, “When you’re ready.”
While he waited for his visa to be approved, Paul celebrated his 18th birthday being courted by baseball scouts and college admissions representatives. He told them up front that he was not interested in their proposals, but they were not dissuaded. He ate at the finest restaurants in the French Quarter, many of which were still open for business. The meals, complete with visits with the head chefs, arranged by his hosts, were exquisite. He had no idea that food could taste so good. Some of the chefs graciously showed him their techniques. Paul absorbed everything. The manual dexterity of their sous chefs was simply astounding. He had never seen knives move so fast. He asked if he could try preparing some vegetables and was able to replicate precisely the style of the woman he had watched. “Wow,” she said, “you may have a future as a chef.” Paul smiled for the first time in weeks, but kept his thoughts to himself.
Two Years Later
The China Air jet landed nine minutes ahead of schedule at Louis Armstrong New Orleans International Airport. As Paul LeMasters stepped off the plane and down the ramp to the international terminal, no one was there to greet him. Forgotten by those few acquaintances he had left behind, he wouldn’t have been recognized if anyone had watched him. The way he carried himself with inner peace and confidence belied his tender age. He stretched for a few minutes to relieve the kinks from the 14-hour flight. Then the twenty-year old took a cab to his French Quarter apartment and unpacked. The last item he unpacked was the leather domino mask. He put it on. He was ready.
To Be Continued…
Monday, November 12, 2007
Sunday, November 11, 2007
I took Friday off as a personal day because Sera was going to be without daycare, so I have spent the past three days with her, every minute that she was awake. I enjoyed every minute of it, especially this afternoon when she fed me cereal from my own bowl while she ate the majority of it. It's been a wonderful three days. I'm sure it's the same everywhere, as every parent thinks his or her child is the cutest of all. Well, they're all wrong, because mine is!
I never thought I would be a good father. I was extremely hesitant to agree to adoption because of my fear. My parents didn't exactly provide good role models for me in that regard. I have written before about this, but not in great detail.
As I played with Sera today, I noticed something. Every time she comes running to me, I pick her up and kiss her on the cheek. I must have done that a hundred times over the past three days. I don't even remember my mother ever kissing me, or even hugging me for that matter. For the most part, when I lived with my mother I also lived with my stepfather, the guy who used to beat me. I can't imagine what it was like for my brother, who was just about Sera's age when we went to live with that man. It just boggles the mind that anyone could treat children in that way.
Tonight, while giving Sera her bath, I had a flashback. Not a severe one, like combat veterans sometimes have, but enough of one that when she splashed water on me, I realized that my attention had drifted. I was thinking about how when my brother, sister, and I took baths when we were young, I had to go first in scalding water, so that when I was done, they could get in the tub and still have warm water. When I tell Sera that it's bathtime, she gets excited because she's going to have fun. I remember bathtime far differently. I remember having my head held underwater and having to fight my way back to the surface. I remember being scrubbed raw even when I was 11 years old and starting puberty because I smelled like an adolescent. Sera has bath toys galore. She has stacking cups that sprinkle water, two squirting toys, and letters that stick to the side of the tub. I had ten minutes to get in and out of the tub before the water got too cold for my brother and sister.
I get the feeling that being a father is going to bring a lot of these memories back to me. And I feel comforted that my daughter is going to have good parents who show her love and affection.
My mother has told me that she allowed me to leave her home when I was 12 to go live with my father because she thought that my stepfather was going to kill me. During our most recent conversation the last thing she said to me was, "You didn't have it all that bad." Well, if by that she meant that he didn't kill me, I guess she was right. But the bar she had set for herself as a parent must have been set pretty low. I'm setting mine a lot higher.
Saturday, November 10, 2007
I once sat in a living room during the first night of a campaign, and we never even got to that phase. The gamemaster had set up the common origins of the player-characters as gaining their powers as the result of being saved by the computer of a crashing spaceship. We spent two hours in the scenario trying to persuade the computer (also known as the gamemaster himself) to save us in a way that would also grant us powers. No matter what we did or said, the guy who created the scenario would not let the origin that he created happen. Finally, after two hours, the GM was satisified and I was mad. Talk about a waste of time. That was a game to which I did not return. Like Bill Cosby once said, I told you that story so I could tell you this one.
At least there was roleplaying involved in the scenario I just described. What generally follows the introductory story can be even more painful. When the heroes are finally together and unite to fight crime, they need a name under which to operate. Here's where the fun begins. We have the Justice Society, the Justice League, the Justice Machine, the Fantastic Four, the Avengers (on many coasts), the Defenders, the Teen Titans, the Champions, the New Warriors, the Guardians, the Ultimates, the X-Men, the Legion of Super-Heroes, Honor Guard, the All-Star Squadron, Squadron Supreme, the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, the Outsiders, Alpha Flight, Generation X, the Next Men, the Southern Knights, Gen13, the Doom Patrol, Wild CATS, Excalibur, the Exiles, the Freedom Fighters, Freedom Force, Stormwatch, the Authority, the Eternals, the Liberty Squad, the Liberty Legion, the Protectors, the Inhumans, the Elementals, the Atomic Knights, the Seven Soldiers of Victory, Infinity Inc., the Challengers of the Unknown, X-Force, Force Works, Checkmate, the Manhunters, Strikeforce Morituri, Team 7, the Darkstars, Heroes for Hire, the Thunderbolts, Power Pack, Youngblood, the Tribe, and the Rising Stars. Those are just the published superhero team names I could come up with off the top of my head. There are probably dozens if not a hundred more! I once spent hours with a group just trying to figure out a group name.
So what to call your team? I was lucky when I joined the Aegis campaign because they already had the team name and the infrastructure established. When I started my own campaign, we struggled for a little while, but since the team consisted of the first superbeings in the world, they called themselves the Genesis Foundation. I learned after a few experiences like that to have a team name already in mind when they get started.
In one Champions campaign I ran, the team were recipients of a clockmaker in semi-fictional Crescent City, and they were called Nightwatch. In the last Champions campaign I ran, I knew it was going to be set in Chicago, and I had a common origin story set up for the team. At the climax of the story, the player characters would join hands under a collapsing roof, only to discover that they had created an impenetrable force field that saved them. They would call themselves the Untouchables.
Now I'm thinking ahead to the Mutants & Masterminds campaign we are about to begin. I wonder how long it will take us to come up with a team name? We are going to be based in post-Katrina, post extradimensional invasion New Orleans. Any suggestions?
Friday, November 09, 2007
Thursday, November 08, 2007
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
She started the day at 5:15 AM, 45 minutes earlier than she usually gets up, so Magi suggested that we use the extra time to have breakfast at Eddie's Steak Shed. I married a smart woman! I had steak and eggs, which consists of a 12-oz. ribeye steak, two eggs, hash browns, and two pancakes. Sera had the Mickey Mouse pancakes and bacon. Yes, that's one big pancake with two little ones attached to it as ears. Shhhh, don't tell Disney! She devoured her pancakes once I put syrup on them. Since she never eats syrup on her pancakes at home, this was a brand new taste!
We got to the doctor's office right on time, and everything was great! She's gaining ground in height and weight, and is still well ahead developmentally! She got a shot, cried for 15 seconds, and was happy.
She was nearly falling asleep at the doctor's office, so we went home for her to nap. After she got up, we went out to get new comics (Jonah Hex, Metal Men, Superman, Midnighter, and the Heroes hardcover) and then to Little Ceasar's for a cheap lunch. The rest of the afternoon was spent playing on the living room floor and napping. A guy could get used to this stay-at-home dad stuff!
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
"According to the sources, CIA officers who subjected themselves to the water boarding technique lasted an average of 14 seconds before caving in. They said al Qaeda's toughest prisoner, Khalid Sheik Mohammed, won the admiration of interrogators when he was able to last between two and two-and-a-half minutes before begging to confess."
Monday, November 05, 2007
Sunday, November 04, 2007
November 8, 1987
Gamemaster: Doug Fisher
After their capture, Kanga and Dazzler became ill, Dazzler violently so. While being rushed to the hospital, Dazzler was sprung by the rest of the Magnificent Seven. Kanga, whose illness was not so acute, was very eager to help Aegis when confonted. Deprived of his trick boomerangs, Kanga led Aegis into Cordwayne Industries in South Bend, Indiana. Despite Willforce's best precautions Kanga escaped, and a trap set up by Mesmero was sprung. Combat ensued, and the Magnificent Seven was totally and utterly defeated.
And there you have it. Homemade villains combined with established comic book villains made for fun times in the world of Aegis.
I didn't record any more adventures until October of 1988, but I do have a ton of stories to share about the campaign and the guys who played in it.
Next Sunday: The evolution of Silverwing!
Saturday, November 03, 2007
A trip into South Bend and Mishawaka today made me start thinking about this. I stopped by two of the three comic and gaming stores in the area, and wondered how it was they were missing out on the cornering the local market. Downtown South Bend has the Griffon, a game and book store where I get gaming supplies like dice and paints. Toward Mishawaka is Buy Me Toys, which sells comics and action figures. In Town & Country shopping center is Uber Geek Gear, where they specialize in HeroClix and T-Shirts. All of these places are owned and operated by sole ownerships with no employees. But if I drove an hour and a half to Kalamazoo, Michigan, I could go to Fanfare, where I could get all of those plus comic book original art and sports cards if I so desired. That's the kind of store I would want.
I first visited Fanfare Comics and Cards on December 5, 1983. I know this because it was my 19th birthday. I was in the first semester of my freshman year in college, long past the time when I thought I would be reading comic books. The last one I had bought was in 1979 when I was a freshman in high school, and I was putting all of that childishness behind me. But when I arrived on the campus of Western Michigan University, I discovered that not only were there students reading comic books, but there were actual groups of students playing roleplaying games and having serious discussions about comics. Not only that but I learned from one of the groups that there was a local store dedicated to selling nothing but comic books. I had never heard of anything like this, so I took a bus to the store to see this wonder for myself.
Fanfare's original location was on South Westnedge Avenue, several blocks from where it is now. It was formerly a two-story house shared laterally with a country-western music radio station. When you walked in the door, there were tables along two adjacent walls. On the tables were longboxes with Marvel back issues, and below the tables were the DC back issues. On the right wall were shelves that held the new comics. It was a tiny little hole in the wall but it was the most glorious store I could imagine. I interviewed the owners, Tom Fleming and John Kowall for a paper I was writing for an English class. I was able to learn more about the hobby in that hour than I had in my entire life. Having grown up in rural Michigan, I had bought comic books either at flea markets, our local grocery store, or a book store in nearby Cadillac. I had no idea what I didn't know.
As time passed and the direct market took flight, Fanfare grew. John left for Mishawaka, his home, and Tom moved several times to better locations down the street, each time expanding its floor space and inventory. Now called Fanfare Sports and Entertainment, they carry sports cards, collectible card games, roleplaying games and supplies, t-shirts, used CDs, DVDs, video games, comic book art supplies, and now Tom is also one of the leading sellers of original comic book art. It's amazing what one man has accomplished.
When I lived in Kalamazoo, I was able to pick up my comics every Friday. It was a weekly ritual to which I looked forward. A bus ride downtown, one transfer, and I was at their store. It was a $1.50 round trip!
When I moved away, I was still buying lots of comics, but I lived 90 miles away. I started using their mail-order service. In eight years, they only made one mistake in shipping my comics to me. Unfortunately, I don't buy enough titles to even make an order worthwhile. I still make my way up there three or four times a year, and every time I do, I regret not living closer by. I've visited comic book stores all over the country, and Fanfare is still the best one I've ever seen.
Friday, November 02, 2007
Guess where we stopped for dessert on the way home?