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Well, that was interesting. A couple of months back, my mate Dom approached me about New Year's Eve. What am I doing? Nothing much. How would I like to come along as part of the crew for a Steampunk night at a London nightclub?
What was I going to say?
I ended up playing Boriz, the chef, and having three responsibilities. I was to help run the Now Infamous Saratov Wodka Game, to manufacture a prop to detect the drunkenness of a guest about to play said game, and I was to build an alcove-shrine to hold and backlight some rather lovely tarot cards, along with miscellaneous other shrinefluff as tends to accumulate on such things: candles, flowers, votive offerings and the like. Not particularly onerous responsibilities: I've done prop builds and scenery stuff before, and I'm a LARPer, so improv and "being ambient" in character is pretty simple.
The problems kinda started with the breath-tester build, to be honest. It was built to call to mind a small pressure vessel, with brass and aluminium panels and little slot-head screws everywhere. A little breathalyser keyring drove the whole show, with the LEDs rewired to drive a nice moving-coil gauge, with a jointed pipe for the user to breathe into. It was to be mounted on a leather vambrace, it looked lovely and as I was putting the final touches on it and getting ready to fix it to the vambrace I did something (still don't know what) and the sensor stopped responding. I either shorted something or opened a fatigue crack in one of the solder joints, and the whole thing stopped responding, at all. Given that there was prep work to be done for the alcove and my lift was due to arrive in a couple of hours, there wasn't much I could do but give up - debugging would likely take more time than I had, and the project was already massively over time-budget. I'd only slept about four hours the previous night because of all the effort I'd put into it, and it wasn't coming with us. Not the best way to start a party.
Still, cut the parts for the alcove, packed all the tools, character kit, duct tape, para cord and the usual rigging accessories, got in the car and travelled to London. Cable is a bizarre and interesting space under the Bermondsey railway arches, near London Bridge station: Victorian brickwork, huge industrial air-conditioning and a slight damp problem. We were led through to our "space" (the chill-out room at the club was to be transformed into the Servants' Quarters, which was our domain, while the rest of the club ran a fairly normal service), and started installation. Now, due to the trouble I had with the Wodkameter, I only had a fairly loose plan of how the alcove was to go together: I knew where all the parts went, but not their exact measurements or how they would be attached. Myself and a man I still only know as "Triumph" (his IRC nick - we were introduced, but I forget) got straight into it, and the next few hours were filled with the measuring of gaps and the driving of screws. The original design used a string of anchor bolts to run wires across the front of the alcove, from which the cards would hang, and to screw some shelves to the wall at the back to mount lights and offerings, etc. This plan went out the window when we learned something interesting about Victorian brickwork: our drill bits could barely scratch it. The 8mm bit was blunt within 5mm of penetration, which took the best part of two minutes (and while I'm inexperienced with masonry drilling, I'm not THAT bad). With four 60mm-deep 8mm holes to drill, and seven 14mm holes for the anchor bolts, and two hours till the club as due to open, we needed a new plan and I was running on vapours and prayers, having not eaten or rested since we got there.
We were absolutely saved by the Production Manager, Santi, who suggested we run wire along the front of each shelf and hang the cards from that, supporting the shelves by fixing them to the back of one of the modular staging units sitting idle nearby. We had just enough spare screws to be able to make it work, and half an hour later the shrine was finished. It looked pretty creditable, as seen in this photo (part of a set of photos from the night taken by Ara, a professional photographer who was also crewing the NYE event). The shelving Triumph and I near-sweated blood over almost completely disappears in that shot, eclipsed by the lights and cards, which is of course exactly how we wanted it :)
So, Nightmare Build over, and everyone else was in costume, briefed, fed etc. This is something else I'm entirely used to from my backstage days during high-school and college, and I don't begrudge them it. Five minutes to decompress, ten to jump into costume and eat some of the chips someone had thoughtfully acquired for us, and I can put Dan down to wibble and twitch in the corner, while Boriz runs the show for the rest of the night.
The rest of the night. The rest of the night was good. Boriz was written as a miserable old wretch who has been dragged to the party by order of his lord and lady, and I mostly managed to play him as such (though it was difficult when Doktor von Science was prestidigitating in the corner and the Sullivan Singers were singing showtunes on stage). Tricky to maintain the facade when the room started filling up with people I know from other places, trickier yet when I had to do some running between rooms to handle a complex situation I don't mean to go into here, and had to interact with some Normal revellers as well as the Steampunks, but I think I mostly pulled it off. The fact that the club polarised pretty rapidly into Steampunks in the Servants' Quarters and Normals in the Techno Room once all rooms were open was kinda amusing, but also useful, as it meant we didn't have to deal with drunks and scallies, for the most part. The fact that our dressing room and out-of-character area was outside, accessed via the smoking area was less useful, but livable. The Wodka Game, incidentally, went without a hitch (except a few irritating bits of tangled string, but that's a story for another time, perhaps).
I get the feeling I'm complaining a lot, and it was a really draining, tiring night what with one thing and another. The other thing it was, I'll say again to reinforce, was a Lot Of Fun.
Now, I just have to try and fix my sleep schedule...
Not much clank yet. The mail shirt doesn't so much clank as jingle, but one thing at a time. Anyway. I'm back from Maelstrom Event 1, more or less unpacked and still kinda tired.
It was an awesome event. Over the course of a four-day event I sang, ate, fought, charged, fled, gambled and slept, at least a little. The next one can't come soon enough (about fifty-five days, for those as are counting). I don't actually want to say too much about it here, because there's the risk that other players might run across it, which could be bad for my character and his friends in future sessions. I'll talk about it happily enough (indeed, I've found you'll be hard pressed to stop me once I get onto the subject).
As is usual in my posts, I've tried to use an amusing but relevant title. This one was a little harder than usual, but I think I've managed. Today's title revolves around an ... accusation that was made mostly in jest on Monday afternoon by my in-game employer after the final time-out had been called. Like many society ladies, she had a lot of appointments to keep, and I happened to have a timepiece that looked appropriate for use in character. Thus, she referred to me a lot for the time and, most of the time when I had her back and things looked bad, she was busy trying to do something else. Thus, apparently it seemed to her that I was less of a bodyguard and more of, in her words, a "chainmail pocketwatch". I suppose it's all about perceptions really: if it appeared I was doing nothing at all, I guess I was doing my job right.
That said, of course, I'm slightly worried now that she might have, secreted somewhere in that outfit, a pocket large enough to hold me...
Still. When we're all in character, that sort of thing fades away, much like most other things. Sleeping and eating, for one. It's surprising how much the character overrides you when you're immersed in the setting for three days straight, leading to things like one and a half square meals a day, drinking bottles of mead without blinking and running up and down the field in heavy armour. My shoulders hurt for days, AFTER the event was over.
Finally, I suppose I should mention the other puzzling side-effect of setting-immersion. I very consciously entered the festival in character, and met the group of which I'm now a part in character. Consequently, I hardly know the people behind those characters. It's a strange sensation, walking up to someone you've stayed with for pretty much the entirety of the last four days, conversed with, laughed and sung with, and finding you have nothing at all to say to them. Quite disconcerting. I have the choice of either getting used to it or getting to know the players, as well as the characters. I suspect we all know I'll choose the latter.
How did it get to be 2AM? These weekends, they are bad for you...
Yesterday, I had a morning! I actually woke up before midday on a Saturday, at 0830 no less, so I could get to the tool shop and still be in Fishersgate for 11AM. Of course, I missed my connection at Brighton station (my train was late, and the connecting train pulled out of the platform just as our doors opened), thus balancing out my good fortune until that point.
Still, eventually I got there, to flannelcat's house, to help with the building of a [CENSORED] to be used by the [CENSORED] in an upcoming live roleplay game. It took flannelcat, Will and me a couple of hours to thrash out the exact design we were going for (it's got to hold a person, amongst other things, so it needs to be built right), but we finally had a set of plans and a bill of materials sorted out: over 70ft of 2x2 timber, 40+ coach-bolts and other assorted hardware. So, we set out to the builders' merchant, to get said supplies. Unhelpfully, they were closed.
Irritating, really. Turns out they were only open till midday on Saturdays, and we got there around two. Still, we got the design sorted out, which means flannelcat can shop around for decent prices in the week, and we did get sausage and bacon sandwiches for lunch (oh yeah...). So I didn't haul a rucksack full of tools to Fishersgate by train for no reason, even if we didn't use them.
Still, Will is an interesting person, and that's the first time I've met him as himself, rather than a character. He has an irritatingly forgettable face, in that I can't describe him, but recognise him whenever I see him (sometimes as somebody else). He's a Maker of Things, builds props for a living, and some of his work is just beautiful. The pump-action blunderbus/crossbow/spring-gun (ultra-low power, of course: it's a larp prop, firing foam projectiles a maximum of about twenty feet) is a case in point - full size with a carved wooden stock, etched brass sideplates, custom-turned components, the works. I'm looking forward to working on a few particularly tricky bits of costume work with him in the near future.
So, we failed at the whole construction thing, but it was a good day out. Next up, we have to do it again, but with the appropriate resources to hand so we can actually build the darned thing!
A new year, just like last night at about this time, and still I haven't written anything of it down to supplement my unreliable memory. Well. My unreliable *personal* memory: facts and figures are easy, but what I did yesterday, who I met, what I said... fade, with time, and not much of it.
Anyway...
Seasonal break with the family was nice, even if my brother was only able to stay a couple of days due to Work in his hometown needing him on the 27th. It was nice to catch up with people in Worthing (aunts, uncles, cousins, old school-friends and so on), and the week or so I was there wasn't really enough. I must try to sneak back there a little more (not least so the home improvement work at my mother's house doesn't back up again... ;) ).
After the seasonal break, well, I had a whole day to organise myself for a New Years' party in Fishersgate. The theme? An 80s night (since all the attendees were born in or remember the 80s). The invitation? Had a still from the movie "Beetlejuice" on it. Since I still have all the parts for my Brighton Below costume in the cupboard, Instant Costume! Well, plus a green furry wig/hat from a stall in Kensington Gardens.
Navigating the streets and stations of Brighton in such a costume is an interesting experience, and reminds me (again) why LARPers tend to travel incognito and finish rigging their costumes at the event itself. Reactions from passers-by, and there were many, were mostly positive (even if I was misidentified as the Joker by a 6-year old). "Holy shit, it's a bear!" sticks in the mind, and the ear, somewhat, but the speak^Wshouter was emerging from an off-license, so alcohol may have been a factor. Still, rigging at the party would have lost the impact of the entrance (although it was tempered slightly by finding everyone else in more standard 80s wear. Oh well.)
The party itself was good, what with period food (good), period games (NES and 80s Trivial Pursuit, better) and period music (best!). Around 2340 (and just as my team was about to win Trivial Pursuit, damnit!), the 1980s party was invaded by an allied party taking place in the 1880s. The Time Agency and the well-known Tempus Fugitives appear to have been responsible, but no-one was harmed, and the temporally-displaced people adapted quickly to the change in scenery, and more quickly yet to the buffet. As for the temporally-displaced... well, it turned out that about 60% of the cast and players from Brighton Below were there. And there's me in a tweaked version of my bbelow costume, thinking I was relatively safe in throwing it on quickly for the party. Had I known they were coming... well, I'd have worn something else. So it goes, I guess.
...it still freaks me out slightly that of the 1880s group, there were I think two people I didn't know (or, at least, couldn't identify on sight). Granted, some of them took longer than others ('chelle, in particular, taking almost thirty minutes). These days, I know more people than I can recall in one sitting. Even two years ago, I don't think that was true.
Anyway, the new year thing happened, plus the extra second to account for the Earth's inconvenient rotational period, and there are photos of me dancing inanely on Facebook somewhere. I blame the punch, which I know had the best part of half a bottle of rum in it (and I should know, I put it there). A while after midnight, our party invaded the 1880s for a bit (a five minute walk to the relevant house), then we wound things up and I found myself walking home at 0530 in 2009. About six miles in the cold, in a suit, with a rucksack, and at the end of a very long day. I've no-one to blame but myself, really: I could probably have found a corner of floor that wasn't being slept on, even if some Tetris was involved, and if I hadn't forgotten my sleep-apnea medication (stops me snoring loudly enough to wake the room every half-hour or so) and didn't want to get out of the full-face makeup. And, and, and... I finally staggered up the hill as dawn was breaking, and fell asleep at about 0650. Today I woke at 1400. *sigh*
New Years' Resolutions? I've more or less resolved not to make any, on the grounds that TODOs written down on one day are no more special than any other, and no more likely to be achieved. I'll write a list of something like Resolutions at some point in the very near future, incorporating things like "eat better and lose weight" and "try to focus on whatever I'm doing better", but I refuse to tag it to the beginning of the year, for no obvious reason.
I hope anyone reading this had a good holiday, and is looking forward to the challenges and triumphs that accompany this and every new year.
...now I just wish I felt as positive as I sound.
One of those days, following one of those weeks (so far, at least).
So far this week, I've not gone to a NaNoWriMo meet because I was going to fencing instead (at which I stood around trying not to go hide in a corner for no clear reason, and did a bit of coaching and reffing instead of, you know, actually fencing). Also, I haven't done the development kit upgrade I was supposed to do because I got caught up in a language reference manual I'm reading instead, which is going to be inconvenient in the meeting tomorrow. I think a working knowledge of SDL (the language in question) is potentially very useful in our future work, but I wish I'd learned it six months ago or so.
What with that and picking up the teaching load for an injured colleague, its been ... busy. I've not written word one for NaNoWriMo in the last three days and, although I've beaten my somewhat ignominious 13000 score in 2006, I don't see a lot more getting written. Which is a pity: I like the plot, and the characters, but...
I should be LARPing for a day at Brighton Below, this weekend, though, which will be a nice break, if nothing else goes wrong and I manage to get the makeup and costume sorted in time. Maybe I can just wander off into the Below. Yeah, that would be nice.
If this is really all life is, I want my money back.