Glitter + Ashes Page 22

  During scenes, players shift between a few different responsibilities: playing as their main character, playing as their setting element, and contributing to a vibrant story world overall.

  Main characters have guidelines for how to play them, including something called moves. The story unfolds through those moves, with plot arcs leaping forward. The main characters work together, fall in love, fight, hurt one another, heal together, enact ill-advised plans, and all the rest.

  The whole thing wraps up after about 3-4 hours, and everyone walks away – maybe grinning, maybe with tears in their eyes. Play is rarely done for an audience or a record. It’s done just for the fleeting joy of itself.

  The Facilitator

  One of the players will also act as a facilitator.

  The facilitator is responsible for gathering supplies, teaching the game to new players, and guiding everyone through the setup process. They make sure things run smoothly. If you’re reading this, chances are good you’ll end up being the facilitator for your group.

  If there are more than enough people, the facilitator may decide not to play at all, to just facilitate and nothing more. But the default assumption is that they’ll be a player just like everyone else.

  No Dice, No Masters

  Some of you reading this will have a long history of roleplaying games under your belt. It’s worth noting some of the ways that this game deviates from the norm, because some instincts developed in other games may lead you astray here.

  This game is diceless, relying on a structured freeform system of choosing narrative prompts from a list. Play is driven by the choices that players make. It’s not strictly competitive or cooperative, instead exploring the drama that wells up between the main characters and all around them. Players are encouraged to make authentic, interesting choices with a spirit of curiosity.

  There’s no Game Master or “MC” to guide the story and its outcomes, which also means that no one has prepared a story in advance for the characters to play out. You’re creating all the fiction on the fly. Anyone can jump in and play a minor character or antagonist, whenever the scene demands it. Authority over the wider setting is divided into a series of six setting elements that are distributed around the table.

  Play is a conversation, an exploration, and an experiment. It starts with a lot of discussion and curiosity, and evolves from there. You play to find out what happens next.

  Gathering

  When reaching out to people about playing Dream Askew, you’ll need to pitch the game to them. Tell them a little bit about the setting and premise, and why you think they’ll like it. Mention any difficult content you think they might want a heads-up about. New players are sometimes surprised by the amount of time it takes to play a roleplaying game, so make sure to clarify how long you expect it will take.

  Dream Askew takes about 3-4 hours to set up and play, and is designed for 3-6 people total. It works best when played around a table, as there is some writing and shuffling of pages involved. Ambient noise can make it hard for some players to engage and immerse in the shared story, so finding a quiet space to play is best if possible.

  Before getting together, print off a copy of the play kit (found at buriedwithoutceremony.com/dream-askew). The play kit contains: the overview, an enclave worksheet, six character roles, six setting elements, and a page or two of additional resources. In addition, gather the supplies listed below.

  What You Need

  These rules

  A printed play kit

  Pencils or pens

  Index cards, or similar

  A central pile of tokens (around 5 per player)

  Food and Comfort

  The game takes 3-4 hours to play, demanding a lot of attention and creativity. Be generous and merciful to your friends by establishing a food plan together before you play, and ensuring that everyone is physically comfortable throughout.

  If you’re hosting the session at your house, consider cooking a meal for everyone. Eating together gives you a chance to catch up and bond, before clearing away plates and getting down to creative business. Cook a meal if you have the opportunity, so you can feed your gaming group and everyone you live with. If people ask what they can contribute, keep it simple: chips, drinks, little confections, or anything your group would like to snack on.

  If you’re playing somewhere else, especially in a public venue, bring some simple, no-fuss snacks to share with everyone. Some bananas or a box of granola bars can be a saving grace for anyone who forgot to eat before showing up.

  Offer people water and make sure they know where the bathroom is. Let them know that you’ll take stretch breaks regularly, and then remember to do so. Before play starts, give everyone an opportunity to name any accessibility needs they might have. Let people know that the game will involve reading aloud during setup, and check whether anyone would prefer to opt out of doing so.

  The time you put into making sure that everyone is fed and comfortable will absolutely pay off and result in better play.

  Safety

  Dream Askew explores emotionally-fraught terrain. It’s important to create a trusting atmosphere for play, and to introduce safety tools that people can use to express their boundaries.

  This text offers a humble tool: pause. To use it during play, all someone needs to do is say the word “pause.” The game will freeze, and the player will be given a chance to state their boundaries or needs. Play will proceed in a way that feels okay for everyone involved.

  Pause puts the focus on the needs of whoever uses it. If that person wants the last thing that was narrated to be edited over with something else, with no explanation given other than “I’m not okay with that right now,” that’s fine. If they want to take a moment to explain how a particular scene hews close to their real-life trauma, before deciding that it’s okay for it to continue playing out, that’s fine too. Pause can lead to a directive like “I’m down for this storyline to continue unfolding, but I need everyone to agree that by the end of the session, Jackbird’s betrayal will no longer be a secret.” If ever two people have conflicting boundaries or needs, try your best to work out a solution.

  A word of advice: don’t use pause to attach a cost to narration in order to manipulate people into doing what you want, like saying “Okay, that can happen, but your character will suffer for it in this way.” Don’t try to penalize other players in the hopes that they’ll stop doing something that bothers you. Just tell them what you want to have happen.

  Pause is an agreement: if your trust or safety are jeopardized, the group will stop what they’re doing and find out what you need. They’ll work with you to the best of their ability. Pause isn’t there so that we can make a rosy story where nothing bad happens; on the contrary, it allows us to take risks and play seriously, knowing that we have tools to work with if something goes awry.

  If you’d prefer to use a different safety tool, perhaps one borrowed from other games you’ve played, do so! Build trust and safety around your table in whatever way makes the most sense for your group. No matter what tools you use, remember that they’re there to supplement (not replace) what players already know about tending to their own boundaries and emotions.

  Some groups find it useful to name boundaries upfront, before the first scene of the game. Maybe there’s content that’s likely to come up that you’d rather skip altogether, something which you’d find particularly upsetting or triggering. Talk it through.

  Regardless of whether the group names boundaries upfront or not, continue to evaluate as you play. If someone looks distressed, you might want to call for a water break and check in with them. Be kind to one another.

  If someone needs to bow out of the game midway through, give them your blessing and check up on them later.

  Asking and Correcting

  Dream Askew plays with contemporary queer archetypes, as well as a storm of possible gender identities (some rich with extant meaning and some void of it). Players will come to t
he table with different levels of familiarity and fluency. More tools are in order!

  The first is simple: ask questions. If you are unsure of a word, concept, or element of the setting, it’s always okay to ask. Maybe someone can explain it, or the group can look it up, or even invent a meaning together.

  The second is simple too: gentle corrections. If someone makes a historical or cultural error that bothers you, it’s always okay to quickly and gently correct it. For example, you could say: “if I might, two-spirit is an indigenous term – one that speaks to both gender and sexuality within those communities.”

  Roleplaying can bring up strong emotions; how much more so, when we’re playing with the history or future of a real-life marginalized group! Remember that everyone playing is being brave and making themselves vulnerable. If someone does correct or question you, be gracious and appreciative. If someone makes a mistake, be gracious and forgiving. We’re all learning together.

  Emergent Teaching

  As the facilitator, it is your job to teach everyone at the table how to play. There’s no one right way to do that, because every player is going to come to the table with different learning needs. Some will be familiar with this style of roleplaying, and others won’t. Some will be immediately comfortable embodying a character and making messy choices on their behalf, while others will need gentle coaching and reassurance. What follows are some guiding principles for how to teach emergently and responsively.

  Teach the concepts and context players need to make their next decision, then take it from there. This creates a natural rhythm of learning and application, and it avoids overloading people. Keep explanations short and sweet.

  Teach to the curiosity of the players, answering questions as they come up. Some groups will eagerly interrogate the structure of the game upfront, while others will be happy to take it as it comes.

  Use examples. Make your explanations concrete and meaningful by expressing them through example scenarios.

  Model it clearly through play. You’ll be a player just like everyone else at the table, so you can demonstrate exactly what playing the dream looks like. Make obvious choices. The first time you do something, explain a little as you do it: “Okay, clearly I need to react to this affront! I still don’t have any tokens, so Tyrus can’t really act from a place of strength. Maybe I should make a Weak Move, so I can set myself up for proper vengeance down the road. I choose: reveal your secret vulnerability to someone. I think what happens is this…”

  Create Characters

  Start by reading aloud the “What is Dream Askew?” section at the beginning of this text.

  Next, randomly distribute the six Character Roles between the players. Each of the roles is a crucial figure whose skills, challenges, and perspectives help shape the fate of their community. Some have a profession, while others eke out survival in the margins.

  Going around in a circle, have everyone introduce the character roles they’re holding by reading out the left-hand column. Once they’ve been read aloud, everyone picks which one they’ll use to create their main character. Put away any that aren’t chosen.

  To create a character, go down the middle column of the sheet, circling as prompted. Encourage people to talk about their character as they go - weighing options, announcing choices, and fleshing out details about what they’re imagining. You can turn to a search engine or fellow player with any remaining uncertainties, or make up your own definitions.

  Some of the prompts are shared among all the character roles, like choosing a name. Others are unique, reflecting the distinctive skills and power, or problems and predicaments, that mark that character’s place in their community.

  You’ll be prompted to choose two relationships. Your choices will reveal more about your character’s life, but they’ll also help to define the community around them. You can choose to flesh out the minor characters mentioned in these relationships right away, or leave those details to be discovered through play.

  At the bottom of the column is a prompt to choose a question to ask of the person sitting to your left. Think about which question seems most interesting, but hold off choosing for now – these questions will come up later, when you are filling in the enclave worksheet.

  Once everyone is finished, go around the circle and introduce your characters. To introduce your character, talk about what choices you circled for your character, adding in whatever details or explanations feel exciting to share. If you talked about your choices as you were circling them earlier, it’s still great to repeat that information now that you have the undivided attention of the group. Answer any questions that pop up. Make sure to read aloud your Lure, since the other players will need to know what it is in order to play into it.

  Give everyone an index card, folded into a tent. Have them write their character’s name, pronouns, and role on it for everyone else to see. If space permits, they can also copy out their character’s Lure. If you don’t have index cards on hand, improvise!

  Carly, Ian, and Ramon sit down to play Dream Askew together. They settle on character roles, and circle their choices.

  CARLY: “Okay, name is Cookie. I’m an old Hawker, and I run

  a rough-and-tumble boarding house. I’ve got an honest face and tattooed hands. I rock a mixture of scrounge-ups and gold chains. I’m a dagger daddy, which I’m imagining like: if Danny Trejo was really into giving hugs and feeding people. Anyway, my boarding house is a sprawling old building with thirty cramped bedrooms, none of them legal. I offer lodgings, easy food, and body-guarding. I accept lingering debts and fawning adoration as payment. My relationships are with the pissy killjoy next door, and the loan-shark who finally tracked me down.”

  IAN: “Me next! My name’s Impala, they/them pronouns. I

  have a masked face, slender arms, and gargoyle gender. My wardrobe is a mix of breathable athletics and black bloc attire. Here’s what I’m picturing: DIY parkour batman. Me and my gang are masked vigilantes who duck and weave through the city, evading gangs and whatever police remain. We run blockades and fuck shit up, kitted out with baseball bats, slingshots, and riot gear – I’m imagining bulletproof vests and utility belts as part of our costume. We’re supposed to have a commitment to non-lethal tactics, but my hungry-for-blood younger sibling recently killed someone. Since that unsettling murder, I’ve lost some trust; people are saying it’s my fault for not keeping them on a tighter leash. My other relationship is with the aging dyke who cooks me dinner sometimes.”

  CARLY: “Oh, hm. Is the pissy killjoy who lives next door to me the

  same person as the aging dyke who cooks you dinner?”

  IAN: “I like that! Maybe I see her as a generous elder

  with so many valuable stories to tell, whereas you mostly just experience her as a nuisance who’s always griping about your business.”

  CARLY: “Perfect. Yes. The boarding house is a pretty raucous

  place on a good night, so I can imagine having tense relationships with lots of neighbours.”

  Ramon introduces his character next: a Torch by the name of Rabbit. He’s a radical faerie who tends the community garden and oversees the enclave’s many festivals.

  Share the Setting

  Randomly distribute the six Setting Elements between the players. Going around in a circle, have everyone introduce the setting elements they’re holding by reading out the title and italicized flavour text. Just like with the character roles, it doesn’t matter who introduces which ones. Once they’ve been read aloud, everyone picks which one they’ll play. Put the ones that weren’t chosen in the centre of the table; they’re still part of the game.

  To flesh out a setting element, circle two things it desires from the list. What it means for a setting element to desire something is determined moment-to-moment during play. It might be expressed through the ambitions of minor characters or through strange developments in the landscape. Have everyone announce their choices.

  Ask ev
eryone to familiarize themselves with the “Pick Up When” and “Trade Away When” prompts on their setting element. Explain that throughout play it’s likely that setting elements will trade hands and be played by different people. The core idea for many of the “Trade Away When” prompts is that you don’t want to have to play both sides of a conversation; when your character is the one facing the challenge of a particular setting element, someone else should be responsible for playing that part of the setting.

  Create Your Community

  It is community that ties our individual characters together and situates them within the wider setting. Both dreams are about a marginalized group of people maintaining their own community, just beyond the borders of a dominant culture. The enclave and the shtetl are built on uncertain ground, rife with potential but also risk. What else is true of them?

  As a group, go down the left-hand column of the Enclave Worksheet, circling as prompted. Make the decisions collaboratively. If you get stuck, talk it through and look for compromises. Aim to set up a community that has something interesting for everyone.

  You’ll start by circling a set of visuals that define the landscape and vibe of your community. You’ll then circle three ideological or material forces that are in conflict with each other - a situation with no simple answers or stable solutions. As you circle things, talk about them and flesh them out. Discuss the scale of the conflict: is this a petty squabble between neighbours, or an entire town divided by rival ideologies?

  Expect that by the time you’ve filled out the left-hand column of the enclave worksheet, you’ll be 50-60 minutes into your session (not including any meals shared together).

  Carly, Ian, and Ramon turn their attention to the Enclave Worksheet. Their character concepts have already implied a few things about the immediate landscape, and they settle on 3-5 visuals quickly: a bustling market, glass + concrete, overgrowth, community gardens, and blockades. It’s a busy, fragmented city. Police try desperately to keep riff-raff out of functional neighbourhoods, vines and trees choke out the freeways and suburbs, and everywhere people are re-purposing buildings, parks, and public spaces.