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Tycho is off getting his first tattoo today and I’m really excited for him. I like the design he chose which is more than I can say for my first tattoo. In fact I know a lot of people who aren’t thrilled with their first tattoo. I got my first one about twenty years ago when Tycho was considering his Gargoyles homage. We were living together at the time and I was looking through some of his RPG books. I found this illustration of a heart with a crown of thorns around it and decided that would be my first tattoo. It’s still sitting there on the back of my calf. If nothing else it reminds me of that time in my life and who I was back then, even if I’m not thrilled with the design itself anymore. 

All the tattoos I’ve gotten since then have been much more meaningful. Right after that I got the Pac-Man tattoo that Gabe has in the comic strip. He has it on his right arm and I have it on my left but otherwise it’s the same. After that I started on my right arm sleeve. It started with a Snake and a Monkey since I was born in the year of the snake and my first son Gabe was born in the year of the Monkey. Then when Noah was born I had a Tiger added. The piece has some other stuff in it as well, all relating to fatherhood and my boys.

Just last week I got another tattoo this time on my left forearm. I’ve been hesitant to get any of my own work tattooed on me. I finally decided that I love the Daughters of the Eyrewood so much I was ready to get one permanently inked on me. I still wasn’t ready to draw it myself though so I went to a local artist named Scott Falbo and asked him to read the Eyrewood stuff and give me his take on a Daughter.  I really love his work and I was super happy with his finished design. In fact I like it so much I think I may ask him to expand on it and turn my left arm into a sleeve dedicated to the Eyrewood.

Speaking of the Eyrewood and my kids, my son Gabe asked if he could be a Lookout. I’ve been drawing Noah a lot since I’m still kicking around ideas for a children’s book with him in it. I figured it was only fair to draw Gabe as well. Here’s the piece I did for him last night.

(click for super big)

Tycho’s tattoo starts at around noon. I’m guessing I’ll get the first “this fucking hurts!” text by 12:15.

-Gabe out

Tycho / 3 days ago

I feel compelled to tell you that I am not at the office.  I’m not even writing this!  I am having a man I barely know dredge a needle through the skin of my forearm, over and over.  And, as if that weren’t enough, he’s dipping the tip of this needle in ink so that even once they’ve healed the scratches this miscreant is scratching will leave permanent marks.  It’s rude at best.  What’s more, I’m paying this highwayman for the privilege of being thus savaged!

It’s a gruesome inversion of the natural order.

If there is anything to be said for this violent werewolf, at least he is giving me some say in the shapes he indelibly carves.  I work with text enough to know that it only holds meaning for so long when looked at; words become shapes very quickly.  That’s one more reason not to get the tattoo rendered in the strip.  I make these posts out of what is, essentially, dry sand; I have to pile it up fast before it becomes a big ol’ heap of bowls and serifs.  That’s what I like, though, words I guess, and I think I’ve squared the circle.  I’ll post a picture of it later.  I mean, you tell me.

The problem is that I’ve had too much time to think about what to get, now; I’ve wanted to do it for, oh, twenty years let’s say.  Of course, back then I wanted to get Goliath.  From Gargoyles…?  Or some shit?  I can’t really see my back, just because of, like…  where it is on my body, so I have often fantasized that I did do it.  But then I think about having to explain the mystic admixture of ferocity and nobility the Gargoyles represent every time I take off my fucking shirt, and I think “maybe I saved myself a bunch of time.”


Tycho / 5 days ago

I got these three frames in a text message a few nights ago, and I can’t prove it but I think he may have drawn them on a pile of spare printer paper, in his lap, while also playing Destiny.  I mention it, because I can barely do one thing at a time.

Hey!  So, I got kind of a weird opportunity a week or so, and I jumped on it.  I was asked to write flavor text for a game called “Apocrypha” on Kickstarter.  Sort of surprised nobody took that name already, but there you have it.  I agreed to do it, of course, because it’s being built by Mike Selinker.  His name there links to his BGG Designer page that has a lot of games on it, and it’s very broad, from his Pathfinder Adventure Card Game to Betrayal at the House on the Hill to Lords of Vegas to all his other insane shit.  You’ve played one of his games, most likely.  You may even have enjoyed it.

Apparently I was a stretch goal?  It is weird to be a “stretch goal.”  I was surprised that he asked me, to be honest; I thought I’d foreclosed any possibility.  We were walking through the hall once when he was gonna give feedback on Gabe’s Thornwatch stuff, and at one point he stopped, turned, and said, “You’re one of those people who doesn’t believe anything is real, aren’t you.”  Which was so weird, because I’m always trying to account for this belief in my conversations with people.  I’m always saying, “Dude, you seem really tangible today,” or “Keep on existing, like you obviously do!” accompanied by a double thumbs up and a smile that says “There’s a reality independent of our observations!”

He did ask me, though, part of the reason I accepted is that the text I’m writing for the cards goes where the art would go in any other game.  Each of the cards I (and the others!) write are essentially very, very short stories, stories you equip that then deliver a game effect.  How could I not.


Something we’re working on…

Just a little tease.

-Gabe out

Tycho / 1 week ago

Captain Forial’s finger hovers over the communications circuit, withdraws.  Then it flips out straight, like a retractable antenna, only to retreat again.  Now she’s holding her fist against her mouth.  She would go through the cycle again, maybe, if the channel hadn’t flared open, if a tiny version of her nemesis hadn’t appeared.

“Captain,” says the tiny, glowing light man.

“Yes, Admiral… Neeb,” is her precision engineered reply.  She had discovered that saying Neeb without laughing was as hard as anything she’d done in her life.  And she’d recently secured Captain over a Chiss.  So.

“We’re moving the AT-ATs to Endor, as you saw in my recent communique.  After their tremendous success routing the Rebels on Hoth, I see no reason not to press this advantage on other fronts.”

“Excellent, Admiral.  We await their arrival.” Establish a front.  Then, flank: “Have we considered that there may be environments whose native terrain might deliver even greater results than on…”

“AT-ATs are All Terrain vehicles, Captain,” burps Admiral Neeb.  His voice is fringed with exhaustion; he can’t believe he has to explain this.  “All Terrain.”

From the observation deck, she looks out at Endor’s third moon.  It’s green.  Very, very green.  Except where it’s blue.

“I forget,” she says, her voice thin.  “Does Hoth have any trees?”

He doesn’t answer right away.  She hears him typing something.  And when he comes back:

“No, no trees.”

“Just a big ball of ice, right?”

“Snow and ice.”

She lets that one go.  She has to.  If she swings at the console, she’ll need the medical droid again.  And then, the medical droid will need the repair droid.  Again.

She thinks about moisture for a little while.  Specifically, farming it.  She wonders if it’s too late for a career change.


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