Not Writing Games

Happy pride I'm trans.

New name: December

New pronouns: She/Her

I've been on HRT for about 5 months now and according to my endocrinologist I'm pumped to the tits with estrogen.

I'll be changing my name across publications and spaces as time allows. I'll still be Michael on paper for a while and that's fine. I do not have a dead nam relationships with my past self.

Three collections of supplements for the award-winning Slugblaster TTRPG, named after the much beloved Canadian compilation albums! Each volume is full of new locations, signatures, gear and even new rules for misfit teens sneaking into other worlds:

Land a 360 kickflip from the roof of a house party. Win nega-friction beer pong in front of your crush. Maybe even save the Hillview town fair!

Collect and trade multiversal phone charms. Loot Rescue agents for random contraband. And learn new tricks for the new Portal Yo-Yo signature!

Put the crew into your favorite fantasy dungeons. Argue with a magic talking sword. And get chased by legally distinct extra-planar monsters!

A bit of backstory: I started writing Big Shiny Scores in 2022 as I fell in love with Slugblaster. Creator Mikey Hamm had already honored me with a writing spot for the original game, as well as the opportunity to write solo rules for the Game of the Year Edition published by Mythworks. I'm even writing for the Slime, Warp and Solder zines right now! You'd think I'd have my fill, right? No! I love Slugblaster and I can't stop making stuff for this weird wonderful world of hoverboarding teens.

Depending on how well the project funds, each volume of Big Shiny Scores will contain up to five individual pieces: from tables of multiversal junk to actual rules for using fantasy dungeons as Slugblaster runs. Each piece will be formatted to a single sheet of paper so you can print out the ones you want to use and just throw 'em on your table! Some fold in half like a booklet. Some fold in threes like a pamphlet. Some are just a poster. All of them are easy to use!

“Riding the eye is a young wizard’s game,” the aged stoner slurred. “Your minds are still malleable, and seeing in all directions at once won’t be quite such a mental strain. It can be hard, seeing yourself and seeing how other people see you all at once.” The old man went silent, stroking his long beard as he gazed into the fire.

The assembled students looked between each other uneasily in the silence. Some looked back at the college beyond the copse of trees, invisible in the darkness cast by the camp fire. 

“Ah, never mind all that though.” He flashed a wide, warm smile. “It’s fun! It’s a fun spell. If you’re feeling sick or want to stop just say so or cross your hands in front of you like we talked about and I’ll dispel the eye. Just try not to float it too far off. Remember, it’s invisible.”

“Is there no other way?”

The assembled priests who were not asleep at their desks sighed or rolled their eyes. They had spent 3 days arguing this exact question. Of course the underpriest they delivered the message to would have this question. Of course all the small folk would have heard rumours. All those who had served them in this hall would have overheard their yelling and screaming and the fist fight on the second day. 

And no one had the energy to go through it all again with some underpriest still 2 years away from getting his robes and gazing upon the divine.

“Boy no questions please,” said Leila, the priest from the Urtain Chapter. “Just say back to me what I told you so that I know you have the right of it.”

The young underpriest nodded, frowning. “Find a volunteer in town. Magic work for the church. Compensation for families. Must know how to write.” 

“Very good,” Leila patted him on the shoulder. “On you go.”

“What sort of compensation?” He insisted. “Why not simply do it yourselves?” Leila took a long, fortifying breath. 

“Because all we know about this spell is hearsay and conjecture, and much of it contradicts what we know of the divine. If god did make a rhyme with the world and breathed life into it, and all of us can return to the beginning and join with God when we die, then nothing can be left in the bodies we leave behind. Right?”

The boy nodded and Leila put her hand on his back and led him out of the hall, speaking softly.

Ty and Zeke were bejeweled, encrusting, almost doubled over in rings and bracelets and necklaces. The torches in the castle's courtyard caught a million points of light in the inset jewels and polished gold. They would surely be spotted, had they not spent the last of their money paying for a round of drinks at the guard’s favourite pub outside the walls.

“We’re fucked,” hissed Zeke. “We’re absolutely fucked mate.”

“Shut up,” whispered Ty. “She’ll be here, I told you.”

“I can barely fucking move mate,” Zeke said through clenched teeth. “This is too much, I told you it’s too much. I can’t drive a horse like this, how the fuck am I even gonna get on?”

Ty almost fell over when he saw a small flame flicker in the darkness of the nearby stables.

“Y’alright?” A squat woman appeared from the dark, four feet tall, hair a tangle of brown curls and pale hay obscuring her face, but parting for a long wooden pipe.

“The fuck are you–” Zeke started as Ty stepped closer. 

“Thanks Sammy, you’re a life saver. Got that spell handy?”

Sammy nodded, “Yeah man, all clear. Told the horses to take the night off, y’know? Eat some apples by the orchard. Good shit.” She smiled.

“Excuse me?” Zeke took several small steps to get closer to them, jingling as he went. “What do you mean you got rid of the horses? That was our way out!”

A report on the testing of spell number 69553, “Animal Messenger.” Students Teague and Wellows and Student Ryan of the Royal House Tell. 

Hypothesis: The spell will command the will of a small creature to deliver a message to a described recipient in a described place. Student Teague cast the ritual, described the recipient and place. Student Wellows was the recipient. Student Ryan kept notes.

Testing by animal, alphabetical:

Baboon: Emitted a series of terrifying shrieks.

Badger: Performed rhythmic movements accompanied by snorting.

Bat: Assumed prank nothing recorded.

Cat: Sat and stared at recipient until spell wore off.

Crab: Produces bubbles from mouth parts and gesticulation with claws.

Eagle: Never arrived. Sender blamed the recipient for wearing a hat they had not worn in previous tests. Recipient said they were cold.

Frog: Croaked several times. Words were reported that did not match message. 

Hawk: Screeched in a rhythm resembling the message. Recipient now aware of sample message due to technical difficulties of test. May have hampered subsequent tests. 

Lizard: No verbal communication.

Owl: Repeated hooting that at several parts resembles language.

Piranha: Confirmed prank.

Rat: No sounds audible to recipient.

Raven: Recipient noted words and language for the first time. Remarked that the words even had the accent of the sender. Message recorded and verified.

I understand this is how things are done at this college but I must formally protest. I have heard that Sir Gray is leading a workshop to test an advanced version of this spell for purposes of animal labour. I would like to register my intent to join such an endeavour. I would much rather charm a goat to turn a mill then work with these two another day.

I do not wish to press my heritage but please remember that if I am displeased and bored I have more reason to report my mood to my mother.

Kind Regards,

“Why didn’t you use that spell with the monster?” The hired guide asked the ranger.

“What spell?” the ranger asked as she unpacked her bedroll next to the camp fire.

“The one you used on the squirrels who found us them nuts to eat.” The guide spread his own bedroll on the other side. “Would’ve been a lot easier to mutter some things with a bit o’ bread and tell the floating eye thinger to piss off.”

“Beholder” the ranger sighed as she laid down and closed her eyes. “It’s called a beholder and it’s not a beast.”

“Not a beast?” the guide laughed. “Covered in eyes, big ol’ mouth o’ teeth, floating all over and shooting magic every which way. Sounds like a right beast t’me.”

“Well it isn’t. The spell wouldn’t work,” she turned away from him. “It needs to be a beast.”

“Who says?”

The fire snapped and crackled. The ranger sighed and rolled over to face the guide. “What are you getting at?”

The man shrugged, “Just sayin’ seems a bit off that you’d go through all that trouble of making a spell in the first palace but think, ‘Well, it would work on squirrels and dogs and a wolf or two but we must not worry about beholder things or other things what got tentacles or can float about with no wings.’ I mean who gets to say what a beast is and isn’t?”

The ranger shook her head and turned on her back to look at the stars. “I don’t know. The college or Major Arcana I guess.”

“Hmmph. Well I’ve been called all sorts of things by those fancy priests and learned folk, not yourself for sure, but I’ve been called an animal and a brute and a base beast and everything else that God protects. That mean you could work that spell on me? Send me up a tree for nuts?”

The ranger didn’t reply. The guide picked up a nearby stick to poke at the coals of the fire.

“Strange thing, magic is,” the guide said to the night.

***

So for a little bit now I've thought that you could take each spell in D&D (I'm using 5.5) and use them as prompts to tell a fun story. Then I saw this Flash Fic February challenge the Story Collective was doing and thought, what the hell.

So each day this month I'll post a short (less than 500 words) story about D&D spells and the sorts of worlds they suggest, starting alphabetically.

I've been posting these on my Bluesky account, but thought I would start putting them here too.

Enjoy. I certainly have.

Acid Splash

My name is Glim and I make acid. 

I was ten when folk from the city came ‘round looking for those who could do sums. There was work to be done, they said. Ma and dad told me to go off with them, small as I was, and near useless at the farm. The men of the factory made us stand and answer math problems when we got there. I got all three right without much thinkin’.

Those who passed were taught the acid spell. Say some words and make a gesture with a hand, and it appears nearby in a great bubble. If you aren’t careful you’ll burn yourself awful. Some got hurt so bad they couldn’t make the signs or mouth the words. But those who could make the bubble burst in a brick well ten times in a minute were named first apprentices of the first Acid Works. There was a great party. Priests came ‘round to bless us.

Time went on, they taught us how to make different acids. If you changed how you said the words and moved your hand, they’d be useful for different things. The sing-song acid was good for fertilizer and mining. The hard slap was good for clearing rust. The shout acid for artisans and alchemists. 

We had to keep track of each spell we did and for what acid and tell the foreman after each shift. If you couldn’t remember or said the wrong amount or hurt yourself, your pay was docked. If you made too much fuss or spoke of the Crows who cawed outside the factory and said awful things about the Church, you got sacked. 

When I was apprentice second class they made a dorm for us all so we didn't need worry about rent in the city. When I was apprentice third class one of the brick wells caved in and some of my friends fell into the vats below. The foreman said there was an award for turning in those you thought might be Crows, who he said sabotaged the mortar in the wells.

I’m apprentice fifth class now, and eighteen years old. My throat hurts when I say the words. My fingers are stiff from all the scars. 

I wonder what I’ll do when I can’t make acid.

Aid

“Why a white strip of cloth?” the High Priestess demurred. 

“We are not sure, your eminence,” Sister Vogo replied. “The magical force was detected only when white cloth was used in conjunction with the words and gestures as you have seen, we attempted with–”

“What do you mean by detected?” the high priestess turned to face Vogo.

“Well ever since the Church declared that all magic should fall within its jurisdiction, this humble nunnery has attempted many experiments to detec–that is discover various arcane uh… behaviours, using the materials at our disposal.”

The High Priestess folded her arms in front of her as she stared down at Vogo, who became fascinated with the bricks beneath her eminence’s shoes.

“Are you telling me that you have had these women speaking gibberish and making hand signs in an attempt to discover new spells?”

Vogo’s mouth opened and closed several times in an attempt to respond. 

“We uh, we have found with the spell in question that the magic seems to increase blood production substantially, not in a way that overflows the body, but replaces blood that is lost. Some sisters wish to put forward a theory that there exists in blood some materials that seal cuts, diminish bruises, and maybe even make the sick and elderly well, your eminence.”

Vogo closed her eyes as the high priestess sighed.

“So would you say that this spell causes a… youthful vigor in the recipient?”

Vogo nodded quickly, “Absolutely your eminence. We have had many subjects report so.”

“Very well, sister Vogo. Your nunnery shall receive another year of protection from your Chapter and the Church. And I would like to experience the effects of this spell in my chambers before I leave. Attend me this evening, after dinner.”

“As you wish, your eminence,” Vogo bowed and sighed, relief flowing through her.

Alarm

To the Esteemed Dean of Major Arcana, 

Thank you again for sending your new spell to our humble cloister for testing. It took us a time to secure enough bells and silver wire, but rest assured we have spent the last month deep in practice and reflection.

There was some initial confusion as to the volume of the verbal ingredients of the spell, as the described effect seemed to happen each time we completed the spell in initial testing. But then one of our brethren recalled being a guest at a lecture you gave at the blessed Cathedral of Hanam last year, and your wise preference for a softer cadence. 

Having applied a volume barely above a whisper, we found success in testing the spell with the intended effect: if a person crossed the marked territory the sound of a bell did ring out. Moreover we found the same effect with cows and pigs we keep here in abundance.

We also found that while casting your spell, if a louder verbal component is applied, there seems to be an inverse relation to the size of creature that can cross the threshold without raising the intended sound. A whisper produces the effect as described above. Saying the verbal components at a volume at a mumble or quiet prayer, the alarm will only sound if something the size of a dog or chicken crosses the threshold. Producing the verbal material at a level we would describe as below conversation, the spell only triggers an alarm when a mouse crosses the threshold.

We are excited about the various practical applications this can provide you and your college, and the imminent wisdom in your choice of naming the spell “Alarm.”

May we be so bold as to ask a question of you and your college? To return to our initial observations of the spell when cast at a loud speaking volume, such as at a pub or spirited school debate, the alarm is triggered almost immediately. Is the college aware of any creatures that could cause this alarm that are smaller than the eye can see?

Alter Self

He stood in front of the mirror in his room, alone, sweating. He wore only a loose tunic, something a classmate had left behind after a tryst one night. He heard boys chasing each other through the dormitory halls outside. He would graduate from the college of Major Arcana at the end of the year.

He took a deep breath and stared into his own eyes. He was focusing on a simple spell from his fundamentals of transmutation class. It had no material components. It wasn’t animating a cauldron or gifting a beast with language. The professor had described it as having simple but vital utility. Growing gills and webbed fingers to avoid drowning. Turning hands into talons in case you were ever ambushed by brigands. 

But there was another application for the spell. A thing you could do if you took your time on the last three syllables and moved the somatic gestures away from the neck and fingers and instead focused on the face, chest, and pelvis. Something transgressive that beautiful students whispered to each other in dark corners late at night where something inside him feared to go.

He readied his hands and fixed an image in his mind: a painting of a knight that hung in the hall outside the cafeteria. It portrayed a young woman standing in front of a mirror as she was attended by her squire.

He cast the spell and his breath caught in his throat.

A wrong had been righted. A scale tipped towards balance. A knot inside untied.