Twenty two dreams for the month of September. Shit, I don't know if that's a record or not for heptapod.org. At least I reached my goal of reaching 950 without cheating. A little forgetfulness on my part may give the illusion of cheating but the dream was dreamt in September 2007 so it's a legit old dream.
Damn, 50 dreams in three and a half months.
Can I reach 1000 dreams by 2008? My response is a humble "lol wut?"
It boils down to knowing what they want out of a game. Once that's puzzled out, give it to them in spades and slowly add in elements that the game master would find appealing in games. An epic game does not have to be one single, continuous and contiguous campaign. Have the same game running once a month every month, or when the players are like "I'd really like to play Projects and Pitbulls™again! I have a cool idea for my character Latrell!"
The advantages are using a bank model. People want to go to the bank because their money is there. If a player has a vested interest in their character then they have a vested interest in the game. A campaign on an infrequent basis could maintain interest by firing the imagination of the players. Of course with such a schedule gaming would be episodic and ought to be wrapped up by the end of the game session or when the host declares their sleepiness.
Puzzle out the gaming backgrounds of your players. Do they read comics? Are they die-hard vidya game players? Is this their first game ever that didn't have a board? What about the player who's just along for the ride for the simple reason their buddy is at the table that night? One of the worst things you can do is ask them outright regarding their interests because it puts the player on the spot and actually reduces communication.
By the way, I think a game that would be called Projects and Pitbulls would be really fun but astoundingly racist.
Outside there was a blonde chick who was at least ten months pregnant and painfully so considering her slight frame. I wondered if doctors would have to remove her pelvis in order to deliver her litter. She was really trashy too wearing tiny cutoff jeans and a mesh see-through top that showed her disappointing b-cups with thumb-sized nipples. Guess when I muttered "classy" under my breath in a sacrastic tone that's what made me lose my car.
Longer than I spent going up and down the aisles of the supermarket, I sought my car in the vast parking lot like Odysseus sought Ithaca. Night fell and desperation beset me that I started relentlessly pressing the fob to make some noise and lead me in the right direction of my car. Turns out that several other cars shared the same signal and their trunks opened, their brake lights flashed among other oddness. Long story short, too late, I found my car near dawn but I had misplaced the carriage.
With luck I was able to recover my food. The lettuce had turned into grapes and the potato chips had become barbeque chips. Relieved I began the journey home. At least I tried because I couldn't find the god damned exit out onto the main drag! Suddenly there were a bunch of dogs around the car so I slowed down, rolled down the window and patted them on the head where I realized one of the dogs was a short girl with freckles holding their leashes. Up ahead was a dog grooming salon where more wet, spiky haired dogs were lumbering down the stairs so they could warm up in the morning sunshine.
I fell out of my car and was surrounded by dogs. Soon my face was full of inquisitive noses snuffling and licking me. I was laughing so hard and the feeling was so intense that I woke up.
