The joy of imagination

I think what I enjoyed most about Christopher Nolan’s spectacular Inception is that it neatly captures the allure – and the peril – of throwing yourself into the imaginative task of building worlds out of the ether.

When Ariadne builds a Paris dreamscape and Tom Cobb helps tweak and change it, I’m reminded of working with my cohorts on OtherSpace as we built a world’s grid, described the rooms, and developed the lore around them.

Similarly, the scenes of the “memory” area in Cobb’s mind, where the ocean of time churns and starts tearing down the monuments of creation, reminds me of all the old unused grid areas on OtherSpace. Some use outdated room code and look broken. Some aren’t even properly attached to anything else on the world grid. Bits and pieces of a lost age.

The Island: Day 1 – “That new MUSH smell!”

This morning, Marson informed me that the new MUSH was up, per my request. So, I logged on and set about digging the fundamental grid to get a sense of the layout of The Island. I don’t plan to build much more than a basic town and island grid. Development of the game world, by design, will be in the hands of players who get to bring their own flair to the strange environment.

I created the character object for the Sheriff. Began pondering his back story. So far, I’ve decided that he’s very old and quite determined to keep his location as secret as possible.

Installed an in-game bulletin board for development chatter. Also added a functioning clock in the town square, so that you can look at it and see the current time of day. Added a +who list. Imported the room parent from Chiaroscuro. It’ll need some tweaking.

Now in the process of installing a Wiki.

More to come as development continues.

Classic Reach of the Empire Log: “Light of Day”

This real-time collaborative storytelling scene took place sometime in 2002 online on Star Wars: Reach of the Empire. I played the roles of C4PU and Dash Rendar:

Infirmary (Imperial Prison Facility: Kessel)

This sterile-looking facility is where prisoners who are injuried in the mines receive medical treatment. Rows of beds extend outward from the walls, and several medical droids move about from patient to patient. From the look of things, injuries in the mines are a common occurrence, and new patients, many in very serious condition, are brought in in a nearly constant stream.

From Bacta Tank, Phoenix doesn’t open her eyes and her cuts slowly stop bleeding. The bacta’s still a muddy purple colour from the blood released already though. The teen floats in the tank, hands unbandaged and looking beat up to the extreme.

C4PU walks into the infirmary, arms bowed outward as he approaches one of the worktables.

Elaer tilts his head to the side, looking at the human in the tank curiously. Seems he can’t help but wonder what happened to the young woman to beat her up so badly. The droid finishes wrapping his ribs, pulling the wrapping tight to make sure everything’s held in place, eliciting a yelp of pain from the Duros.

C4PU rearranges the swabs and medical gear on the worktable. Quietly studies the new formation. Makes a “tsk” sound and goes about rearranging them again.

From Bacta Tank, Probably not anything all that much – just shift duty. A braid that’s waist length or longer hangs down, piling up slightly at the bottom of the tank. Ix continues to sleep or whatever it is she’s doing, a small smile crossing her face – whether or not it can be seen from under the rebreather is hard to say, as is the cause of her happiness.

Elaer glances at the protocol droid, examining it with a quiet confidence, an assessing look. It’s the kind of look you’d see from someone well versed in droid matters. He nods politely to the 2-1B droid as it finishes tending to his cuts, scooching back a ways on the bed to sit with his back against the wall and watch the room easily.

C4PU turns and makes his way toward the bacta tank. His optical receptors flicker for a moment, and then he and his reflection turn toward the 2-1B droid. “How much longer do you anticipate this patient will require bacta treatment?”

The medical droid replies, “Her bacta treatment is anticipated to last 24 hours although it may be longer if her hands are not healed by that time.” Ix just..floats and smiles, a stream of bubbles coming from her rebreather.

“Oh, my,” the protocol droid replies, turning his attention back to the prisoner adrift in the bluish-green fluid. “That is most unfortunate. The overseer made it quite clear. He wants her back in the mines this afternoon.”

Classic Chiaroscuro Log – “The Arkadys”

This real-time collaborative storytelling scene took place in 2003 online on Chiaroscuro. I played the role of Arkady.

Residence (Silkfield)

The spiraling stone stairs lead from the receiving hall to this cavernous, chill chamber of torch-lit stone shadows. The walls are festooned with the twisted visages of sneering, leering and snarling gargoyles with horns and fangs and wildling claws, gazing down on those who inhabit the residence as if prepared to pounce.

Jamot Seamel, first master of the Brooding Keep, carved the exquisite sculptures from gray marble taken from a quarry in the River District and, in the third year of marriage to Anae Nillu, had his vassals install the sculptures as a ward against the Shadow’s Touch. In the fourth year of their marriage, shortly after Anae celebrated her nineteenth birthday, one of the sculpted gargoyles cracked and fell from its stone perch as she strolled beneath it.

The blunt force of the marble form did considerable damage to her head, but the blow was not instantly fatal. She lingered for six weeks while the healers ministered to her, and while Jamot struggled to keep hope and faith against the misery of realizing that what had been meant to protect his beloved, created by his own hand, had felled her.

A gap exists in the circle of gargoyles – the fallen sculpture never got replaced in this chamber that became known as the Sorrow Vault.

Arkady yells, “Fat Arkady! The Shadow take you, keep your bloody hands off that gargoyle!”

Standing near the top of the stairs, the stout form of Arkady waggles a beefy finger at a particularly obese younger version of himself, who is trying to grab at a gargoyle perched on a pedestal. Other boys, ranging in age from toddler to teen, move among the gargoyles. Some boys are tall. Some are short. Some are skinny. A couple are fat. Some are hairy. Some are hairless. All seem to be just a step away from getting into deep trouble with the older man. “Now, I mean it! Hands off the sculptures! This is why we have nothing nice, lads!”

Chamber doors fling open and out staggers Jafron. Barefoot and with mussy hair, the noble frantically buttons his silken shirt before spotting his new guests. His face is crimson in an instant and he freezes mid-button. An instinct from deep within suggests to the soldier that if he should remain perfectly still, and make not so much as a whimper, he shall go unnoticed.

Arkadia brushes her unbound hair back over her shoulders as she hurriedly steps out of the suite *right* behind Jafron, almost running right into him. She tugs at her clothing and tries to cast a quick, reassuring smile toward the nobleman, but her own face is rosy with heat. There’s a glimmer of mischievous merriment twinkling in the girl’s green eyes, however. “Papa! What are -you- doing here? And with the -boys-!”

There seems to be no trace of merriment in Arkady’s face as he reddens and turns toward the sound of the whooshing doors, the blurted inquiry of the woman. Distracted from critiquing the gargoyle-handling by his sons, Arkady growls, shaking his finger at Arkadia. “We come to take you back, Arkadia.” He narrows his eyes, lowering the finger and glaring at Jafron. “M’lord, I mean no great offense, but she is yours in service to the house – not in service to your base needs. I hear things, down low where we are, and it bodes ill. I come here, and I see it for myself. Have you no fine ladies to bed, that you must soil my only daughter? An abomination, you are, m’lord, I must say it, I cannot keep my tongue. So, me and the little Arkadys come callin’. If you be a man of honor, you’ll release her, free and clear.”

Classic OtherSpace Log – “The Question”

This real-time collaborative storytelling scene took place online on OtherSpace about 11 years ago. I played the various roles of the “guides” Fulton encountered during his vision quest on the planet Quaquan:

Vision Cavern

The centerpiece of this round chamber with its low ceiling and walls carved with stick-figure heiroglyphs is a gurgling blue spring surrounded by a rough ring of yellow stones and lit from below by luminescent moss growing on rocks within the spring. That glow gives this chamber its only illumination. The echo of the water dances off the walls.

A young Qua boy walks into the cave, without a word, bearing a basket of cloth-wrapped dry white bread – a small loaf. He sets the basket on the edge of the spring.

Fulton glances at the boy. “Thank you.”

The boy ponders the offworlder for a moment. He seems about to speak, a question on the tip of his tongue, but he stops himself, turns and walks away.

Fulton watches after the boy, as he leaves, then looks towards the basket.

With a small nod to himself, he turns his gaze towards the spring. Spirits? Nonsense. Thoughts cruise up and down his mind, but he quickly shakes them off, deciding its best to focus on that which needs to be thought upon.

A sweet-smelling mist begins to roll into the cave through vents low on the rock walls.

Fulton sniffs the air, quickly looking around. “What in the-?”

The mist smells like orange blossoms – and it tends to put you at ease. It does not harm you, or render you unconscious. It simply makes you feel…content to be.

Fulton turns his gaze back at the spring. Tilting his head slightly back, he closes his eyes, and feels calmness sweep him over.

You hear the sound of feet padding into the cave through the entrance, and rapid, raspy breathing.

Fulton opens his eyes quite slowly, not at all startled, and glances towards the entrance, looking for the source of the sounds.

Opposite the spring from you stands a wolf with gray fur, strong haunches and bright blue eyes that study you with brilliant intensity. Thanks to the effects of the mist, it doesn’t seem to surprise you at all, really, when the creature speaks: “You seek the wisdom of the guides?”

“I do.” Fulton replied simply, staring at the wolf.

The wolf’s tongue lolls out, a look that might almost be mistaken as mirth on its face. “What is your question?”

Classic OtherSpace Log – “Blessing in Blood”

This real-time collaborative storytelling scene took place on OtherSpace back in 1999. I played the role of Rathorl, a reptiloid Nall competing against a rival for a mate:

Sun Goddess Square – Nalhom

Before you stands the very edges of a tropical jungle, amidst it a large, carved stone structure grants you entrance into the heart of this planet. During the daytime the sun’s warmth hits the very center of this lush courtyard and during the night the clear cool light of the planets three moons converge on this spot to form a spectacular light show. To the left and right of the carved structure lie huge buildings carved out of the same stone but much more ornate in their construction. One structure lies open allowing the suns rays to filter in during the day while the more ornate building is decorated with large bronze statues of a female lizard holding the sun above her head while Ydahri and other slaves look up in awe. Off to the left the ground flattens and appears cultivated.

Betoth moves, with a clacking of claws and a harsh, constant hissing, from the tunnel of the tube station. He is as he always is– Betoth, in his armor, bearing his weapons. Though his armor has obviously been polished, he has made no other concessions to the event.

Kh’rrtyris rustles into the Square, some ways behind Betoth. Upon seeing Rhas’eas, she hisses, nostrils flaring slightly, and bobs her head in deference to her mother. “Mother. Nalia shine upon you and grant you favor.” Her tail begins a slow, swishing movement from side to side, jaws opening a fraction as her tongue darts out to scent the air.

From her perch near the bronze feet of Nalia, Rhas’eas is resplendent in her finery, obviously donned especially for the occasion. As Betoth enters, she merely inclines her head. At Kh’rrtyris greeting, she raises her palm, “And may she shine on you, my youngling”

R’ikamvril tastes the air with a flick of her dark tongue, obviously eager for the battle to begin. She stands off to the side, but her eyes are keen and alert.

Betoth extends his palm to Rhas’eas, inclining his head. His hand then drops to his swordhilt. He draws it, the metal rasping out. He narrows his eyes, the wrinkles making his scarred flesh jut out ridgily along his cheeks. “I am prepared.”

Rhas’eas drops her eyes to examine the steel of his blade. Her mouth opens slightly with wry amusement. “I see you took my advice. Your sword is newly sharp, is it not?”

Top Sekrit Option No. 4

I appreciate the post Falk made about the three options that he sees for me going forward with OtherSpace.

In short, they are:

1) Shake things up again.
2) Hand the game over to someone else.
3) Close the game.

I’ve given it a lot of thought during the last week and I’ve reached the conclusion that none of these options addresses the fundamental problem: I miss *enjoying* what I like to do.

The most vocal players on OtherSpace make it clear that they don’t want their corners of the universe messed with anymore. Even just opening the door for them to make their own changes leads to people throwing words back in my mouth about keeping things simpler. If anything, they seem to just want systems fixed and/or finished so that they can plod merrily along with the game they want to play. I don’t suppose I have any room to blame them.

However, that doesn’t solve my problem.

Picking an heir apparent isn’t the answer. We’ve tried it before. It doesn’t work.

Closing the game would do nothing but make people angry. We’re not at that point yet, and I certainly don’t live under the false pretense that if I “can’t have it,” no one can.

So, I’m going with Top Sekrit Option No. 4. It’s a pretty simple option – painless to people who have invested themselves in OtherSpace, creatively interesting and potentially lots of fun for me.

I’ve started development of a modest side project that won’t get any major advertising. It’ll be a small MUSH with web character applications and invitation-only play, minimum age of 18. No badges. No medals. No Twitter feed or Facebook fan page. Just an easy-to-grok theme, story-driven, which won’t be designed to compete with OtherSpace.

I’ll probably have a little more to say about it as work continues on the project, but I’m optimistic that it will help rekindle some of my passion for this storytelling format.

The circle of ennui

Something Chiro wrote in the “Too many doors” post has stuck with me during the last week or so:

“You’re obviously not here for the same reasons we are.”

It’s accurate. When I think about why I started OtherSpace, the reasons are as follows:

* I enjoyed the fast-paced back and forth interaction of collaborative storytelling in a MUSH environment.
* I knew and liked many of the players/staffers and wanted to entertain them and to be entertained by them in return.
* I relished the challenge of building an audience for an original theme RPG.
* I wanted to do this for a living.

Well, look at where we are now:

* The interactions usually aren’t fast-paced anymore.
* Many of the folks that I liked entertaining are gone. Many of the new faces are awesome, but some, let’s face it, we just rub each other the wrong way and that doesn’t make you want to participate in my events anymore than I want to interact with you.
* We reached our popularity peak a long time ago.
* I do this for a living.

This leaves me less motivated, which may lead to more player frustration and boredom – a vicious circle that keeps feeding on itself.

I’m not sure where things go from here.

Too many doors to open

I think there’s just no room in even the above average attention span for a roleplaying MUSH to thrive anymore.

Next week, we celebrate the 12th anniversary of OtherSpace – an evolving collaborative space opera epic that’s been the shared creation of hundreds of participants from all over the world. We still manage to draw 50-60 people on our busiest nights, but the new blood is rare and the veterans just can’t do enough to gain and retain new prospects.

It’s no one’s fault. The world’s just so different these days. Back in the peak of our popularity, the worst distractions that threatened MUSH activity were:

* School/work
* TV shows
* Other text-based games

Now, we’re faced with those distractions, plus:

* Graphical MMORPGs
* Console games
* Smart phone apps
* Hulu
* Streaming Netflix
* Hundreds of cable channels
* Facebook – with Farmville, Castle Age, and Mafia Wars (among other attention funnels)
* Twitter

It’s not that hard to find a few minutes here or there to tend crops or help our friends fight boss monsters in a Facebook game. But who really has the time, energy, attention, and creative drive required to tell a collaborative evolving story?

It takes a special person to invest themselves in the effort of building a living novel, but such people, I think, are just becoming too rare a commodity anymore.

Sad but true: I envision a bigger draw for players to a web-based OtherSpace: Dominion game than we’ll ever see on the story-driven MUSH. It’s unfortunate, but it’s what people have time for. It’s as deep as most people are willing to go.

The age of the MUSH may really be over.

So, let’s assume it’s true. What’s next? Can the form evolve?

We’ve tried to experiment with other options – play-by-post in the forums and the Facebook fan page – but that’s never quite taken off. We’ve seen players start blogs to enhance the storytelling experience beyond the game. Again, they start, but they never really take off. Google Wave? Maybe, but that’s still less than elegant and not wildly popular.

I’ve heard some initial murmurings of a MUSH client for the iPad, but I remain skeptical that it would improve the likelihood of people committing themselves to the effort that’s necessary to create a quality storytelling environment on OtherSpace. It’s far more likely that iPad users would be drawn to apps like Plants vs. Zombies – quick fix, easy to drop, low intensity entertainment.

I’m not yet at the place where I want to call it quits with OtherSpace. However, I do think we might be reaching a point where we have to accept and embrace that the game’s never going to grow significantly and that the generation of players that we’ve got now may be the last of a dying breed.

Between the Lines: “The Messenger,” “Crack,” and “Shatter”

These three events were all fragments that came together as the introduction of a significant evolutionary shift in the history of OtherSpace. Oddly enough, so far they have proved to be among the most intimate of the adventures that I’ve run in a long time – and this has been for better and worse.

“The Messenger,” a weekend event in which a mysterious Mystic named Verdian Xos wandered Comorro Station asking people what they wanted, was my homage to one of my favorite episodes of “Babylon 5.” In that episode, a creepy character named Morden sought out Londo Mollari (among others) to offer power, influence, and wild dreams in exchange for some favor to be named later. I’ve always been of the opinion that in any kind of fiction, the best stories get to the heart of what the central characters want – what drives them, what motivates their actions, and what fuels their regrets. It was great just poking characters here and there to make the players explore those aspects.

“Crack” saw the arrival of the freighter Ainda – last seen with Zar Hideg Fekretu aboard, fleeing from this dimension with a Koltkamir battle cruiser in hot pursuit – aboard Comorro Station in a flash of blue light. This event was a fairly basic “mystery box” plot that was open to anyone hanging out in the docking hub. Unfortunately, it took far too long for people to get the flow going. In the end, it took five hours to go from “look, ship showed up!” to “look, we’re aboard the ship and here’s the reveal about why and how it got here!” That’s just insane. Part of it was slow posing, due either to RL distractions, multi-windowing, or simple lack of interest. Another part: Not enough peril or profit to make it engaging.

Things improved the next day with “Shatter.” In this event, I amped up the risk – the ship started powering up on its own and prepared to leave without anyone aboard. So, interested parties scrambled onto the Ainda to see where it might go. They were rewarded with a couple of interesting twists. First, they experienced a “reality compromise” as the artifact drive powered up – so, playing off some conflicts I’d witnessed between the players, they saw their doppelgangers killing each other and then riffed nicely off that with their characters in the prime reality. Second, they showed up near Demaria in a version of the year 2650 where Stumppaw Sandwalker lived and now served as Imperator. They learned that the Demarians acquired the interdimensional tech from Medlidikke leader Vard Bokren, who wasn’t too forthcoming about WHY he was so generous besides just wanting help in chasing down the ex-Zar. Fekretu, it seems, is on the run in that version of OtherSpace.

The “Shatter” event was much more “on rails” than the previous two. I think “The Messenger” was the best character evolution event of the three, while the second was a great opportunity for the players (had they chosen to do so) to really poke and prod at the tech, and the third was just an amusement park ride meant to deliver the new revelation and a fun afternoon.

Thanks are owed to those who participated!