One of the premises of solipsism1, in many of the forms it takes, is that the only thing we can know for certain is our own minds. I don’t actually agree with this premise (I think). But one of the things that follows from the premise is that other people cannot be known, since we don’t live in their heads and the only thing we can know is our own heads. I’m not sure I agree with that, either. But it sure feels true sometimes. Continue reading
When I GM I give my players a piece of my self. Usually an important piece, an egg I’ve been nurturing for some time. Sure, I’m used to sharing. But it still matters to me.
So when I GM, I need to know my players are playing along. If they aren’t into it, there’s no point. No one is going to have any fun. And I’m certainly not going to brace myself on my knees and smoke for them if they aren’t willing to talk in character to me. Continue reading
The path was long disused, and it showed in the sounds of their passage: the dry crunch and soft rustling of a thick layer of leaves, the occasional soft clop of hooves on unpacked dirt. It looked it, too. Heavy leaf cover, fallen branches, thick foliage crowding in the path and over it, young shoots fighting with fallen leaves to make a life on the trial. The world was soft, quiet. Spring was around them, but here it seemed subdued. They were in a silence shaped by gentle noises. Continue reading
Dear Thief 