An infinitely shorter post, but trust me it would behoove you to take a look

http://stuffershack.com/player-responsibilities/
This here, this is very very useful to know and digest, I would implore you to check it out.
-Ryan

It is fucking hard being a GM. long post, I think it's worth it to those playing my games or are players...

Nuff said...

        BUT wait there's more, there always is... So I feel that this year is summing up to be enjoyable but damned difficult for GM's, aside from the one campaign I had going that turned into a fantastic ride of amazing filled with delicious awesome, all the other's either disintegrated into nothingness :C or are TBD...to this day. And while playing a certain game, which will remain unnamed, I realized...once again...it's fucking hard to be a GM, and not just a casual "fuck it I'll GM because why not and no one else wants to" but the kind that actually...wait for it....give it time...C A R E. Yup, caring is in insanely short supply these days, if you care you're either overly sensitive, a douche, or just fucking stupid, if you care about mundane stupid shit, you're a'ok, but if you don't care whatsoever, you.are.a.god. Yup, that's my view on things lately, because damn it all if I haven't heard that saying of "I don't care" over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over...and over.....and again.... :3 Seriously though, those of you out there that care, that care enough to make the effort, to make a game, to try, to reach out, to always strive to be better, that actually make an effort to communicate, that are receptive and seek out feedback (good or bad), that spend countless nights, thinking and thinking and thinking and thinking, only to realize just go for it and sod the rest, to you, I love you...no I don't just love you, you are my gods damned hero. You make this fucking world bearable, your make me think that you know, some people do give some shits, hell they give LOTS of shits! And for that, the world seems a little less brown if you know what I mean. AND here this allllll leads back to how it's hard to be a GM, but wait there's more! I can already here the sarcastic rebuttals "Aw man you just wing it, c'mon is it reaaallllyyy that hard? Dude, we don't care its ok man, you can take the story wherever I just wanna kill shit..." FFS firstly, have you all seen my map? No? Well you're blind, take a closer look at my background to this blog...yup that's 36 X 45 inches of good ol' tolkien inspired goodness...3-5 months I spent on that bad boy, and I don't remember the exact date because fuck you I wasn't recording it for humblebrag purposes you damned heathen. Secondly, I FUCKING care, at least 10% of GM's, maybe more, care, they care enough to get up and instead of sticking their hands in their pockets and be like "you know just do whatever, I'm whatever about it," they instead put the time and effort into a campaign, a world, a million effing npc's to entertain all, because damn it all we love it. And lastly, though this was part of the secondly bit, if you just wanna kill shit, or are here just to talk philosophy because I'm basically the reincarnation of Descartes, either play COD, or LARP. COD is a fps (first person shooter, to those living under a rock) that is on the Xbox 360, PS3, Xbone, PS4, and PC. Play that, kill shit, do it online, pretend you're rolling dice, rinse repeat, live a repetitious life. As for Larp'ing, I believe there are some groups in the SC mountains that roam around and whap one another with foam swords while in some strange fashion change their voice to sound like Eric Bana and Russel Crowe had a baby that went on to make a sequel to gladiator. So there are your options for those of you that want to either kill shit, or talk philosophy like I'm a badass Plato, bitch, last bit of that was writer exaggeration...gods I hope it was. I know I know, philosophy may be hard to talk while whaping one another with foam swords, but from what I've heard afterwards you can sit around a fire, drinking on overly alcoholic mead (because that's all that is out there), and chat it up with one another, a perfect time to make your inner conversationalist shine, while being medieval, hazaae...!

        So that aside, now that I've redirected those that have secretly just wanted a larping version of COD, GM's its fucking hard to be one. You get up in front of (possibly) 6 random ass people, tell a damned story, hope they like it, all the while juggling literally a minimum of 4 to 5 plots and ideas raging around in your mind, sometimes 10 to 20 things. Truly the reason I'm posting this is as I said in the beginning, it's been a tough year of sorts for me, and other's I'm sure, GMing wise, while one group may flourish, the other flounders, and while one may flourish, the floundering ones have been more numerable, which in the end means there's one good game for a million shit games, though that may be my inner fatalist talking. To my GM's out there that care, please please please don't stop caring, there are magnificent players out there that work wonderfully with others, you will make a game so memorable and fantastic, you may dream about it for weeks afterwards, but with the good, there must be bad, so we can recognize the bad. It's fucking hard to be a GM, read my previous posts to know why, and why a GM's job and learning NEVER ends, it never does and never will, I'll never stop pursuing more tactics on being a better GM, I'll never feel that I've finally reached that zenith, I'll never feel that I'm basically a godly version of Tolkien, never.NEVER. But that's ok, because that means I'm always looking to improve myself, I'm always going over previous games and seeing what I can improve on, I'm ALWAYS reevaluating myself, and taking the shit I did and fixing said shit into something playable. So it's fucking hard to be a GM but we love it, we work at it, and damn you cut us some slack when we do GM, because if we get a group of complete assholes, it's nearly impossible to GM well for a group of assholes, really people, its just not a pretty picture. I suppose I'll leave you with these tidbits about why I'm ranting.

TO ALL MY GM READERS:

1. Fucking communicate and actively seek out to improve yourself, if you don't you're fucked. the.end. I'm not kidding.

2. We can only do so much, if the players suck, they suck because of a variety of reasons and they either need to pull their heads out of their asses or you need to find a new group, that too I'm not kidding.

3. Keep caring, because once you don't care any more, one you buy into this "well I really don't care" mentality, your games will be droll, repetitive, and awfully shitastic, that as well I'm not kidding. And you will have an eternal friend of me for caring, so that's a little smidge of something right? :3

TO ALL MY PLAYER READERS:

1.DO.NOT.BE.A.SHITTY.PLAYER

2.DO NOT FUCKING BE A SHITTY POWER GAMING UNCARING PLAYER

3. How do you not be 1 and 2? Easy, talk with your GM, figure out how to have a good gaming experience, don't be a selfish asshole and think of the party as well as your own desires, don't take a feat or ability or equipment just to be O.P. don't just be an O.P. ass hat to be an O.P. ass hat. Flow with the story and if you feel left out, its probably because you're doing something you can't see, communicate gods damnit. More than anything have fun, but by doing so don't fuck with the GM, because we spend a helluva lotta time working on this for you, work with us damn you.

4. Don't go off on your pseudo enlightened conversational bullshit unless it is completely contingent to the story, seriously, we give no fucks that you major and minored in neo-classical theology and early greco-roman philosophy. Just cause you pigeon holes the hell out of yourself and therefore can't scratch that tumorous itch of the philosophy you feel pulsating away in your brain, does not mean DnD is a viable outlet for that, know when and when not to implement small doses of that, this is not a fucking college class, or Socratic seminar.

5. Be a good fucking player. the end.

SO! I hope that helped to elucidate a few things, I'm extremely tired am going to hit the hay, but for all those awful readers out their with the attention span of a mite

TL:DR

GMing is a passion but hard as fuck, you GM's out there communicate and keep endeavoring to better youself. Players can be assholes, don't be an asshole player, how to achieve that? Communicate.

All my love and attention

Don't forget to roll your D20,

Ryan

p.s. when you give me an angry look and are confused as to why I did something, I will happily say, "read my blog" when you see this, then maybe you'll finally understand.       

Everyone wants to be a writer...

        But damn it all not everyone becomes one, and holy hell could someone just type in "writer" in Google and not get a stream of pessimism and self-declared arrogance? Damn, sometimes holed up here in my little hovel of "avoid all people" do I forget how many people are "Authors" and "Writers for (insert random web page no one has heard of .com)". NOW This is not to denigrate all those who actually write, and do it damned well, but amidst the wonderful friends I have that do write, and often, there are 1,000,000 others that are pretentious humblebraggers, just learned that term and I rather like it...although Irony is, I could be part of that...hard to say really, and if I am a million apologies! In any case enough of that, for now, dystopia time! I've been thinking of maybe axing this, as I have stories involving my world 'Entrathia' and how that will lead to way more Pathfinder heavy games, but then I figured, I'm kind of enjoying this, so why not! BUT make note of this people, and those beginning to read this again, I will be including stories, lore, and things pertaining to my world 'Entrathia' which will come up in some sort of fashion in my games, I would suggest, if you can manage it, to read what I have listed, it may be important, and it may just earn you a hero point ;). Welp where were we, ah yes, Sanctum, Conduit Engineers, blunt heads and the zealot war, things that could be misconstrued (or not misconstrued), into something kind of telling and possibly predicting, albeit a very very glum disastrous prediction. The happiest is when I am wrong, for I am a very down trodden cynic, so being wrong means, YAY better days ahead :3 Ok enough of that, I hope you enjoy this, frankly I quaver at the thought of making parts of this story, because almost every story has this, where there's dry things happening, information, back story, leading up to more interesting and captivating things, frankly I feel sometimes it needs to happen, but as this is a weekly blog update thing, I'm not sure if that's the best idea, we'll see, throw me some feedback, lemme know your thoughts, or don't sheesh I don't have a gun to your head.

A hard sell

        "Wow, that's something isn't it Ved, damn, its not every day that someone asks you to head out into that hell hole." Nalia was being crass as usual, but this time there was an  inflection in her voice, something which caused Ved to stir slightly in his seat, not just the fact that she had finally dragged him to one of these trendy bars. 

        "It's not exactly public knowledge yet Nalia, so try to keep your voice down, more than usual." Ved imparted with a joking aside. Nalia just playfully scowled at Ved before taking a large swig of her beer, she normally enjoyed a mixed drink of some sort, but she at times drank an ale, and this was one of those times. 

        "So, director Harp's already filled me in but still, you've seen exactly what I've seen out there. Old Oakland is a damned wasteland, the buildings are filled with psychotic bluntheads, the wildlife has gone rampant and if the mountain lions and feral dogs don't get you the tribes sure as shit will, and don't even get me started on ol' 24." Nalia the whole time was looking straight ahead towards the shelves filled to brim with different alcohols and liquors, her eyes glossy as if she were in Old Oakland at that very moment.

        "Nalia, you don't have to tell me, Christ I'm the one out there in my exosuit, shoveling the filth those bastards dump every day." Nalia twitched a half smile at his use of obscenity but Ved merely shrugged, regardless if using those words were taboo due to the nature of what they caused for damn near three decades, Ved liked to blurt those words out every now and then, he would draw curios stares from people, but that's all it ever amounted to. 

        "Look Nalia, that prissy Harper has allowed me, through his gushing benevolence, to let you continue on as my exosuit monitor, now I don't trust any of the new half trained minnows that come out of the academies and schools, so-"  

        "Just can't get enough of me eh? I get it Ved, I'll act as the monitor, but look we need to talk about the training, the time we've got, what's in store for us." Nalia interjected, as she always did to Ved, he just smiled and took a large gulp of his drink.

        "Well your idea is as good as mine, we got a week to live it up, I'm sure on their expense, and then a month of training exercises, from there...the barrens." Ved said the last part with a short pause, looking behind him at the lit up city, across the bay, San Francisco was brimming with life as well, small crafts hovering above the water were coming and going, different flickering beams and so forth emanated every so often from the city, it looked to be alive, doubtless with everyone living to their fullest, ignoring the massive 200ft wall standing resolutely just north, south or east of them.

        "Ved, there's no telling what we're going to encounter out there, namely you, just promise me if the shit hits the fan-"

        "You know I'll be the first back to the air lock or one of the safe zones, Nalia," Ved felt the words on the tip of his tongue dissipate quickly as he felt the liquid courage of his beer seep away, "Let's get some sleep, it's late and we got a lot to think on." 

        They hugged each other goodnight, Ved mentally kicking himself for his cowardice, slumping home in a haze of alcohol and regrets, and quickly zipping up to his apartment flopped into his bed. He slept soundly, though every now and then he awoke to what he thought was the smells and sounds of the outside, the Barrens, realizing it was his mind conjuring it up in his drunken sleep, quickly retired once again.

        Light softly streamed into the room, Sandi making her usual announcements and Ved shrugging them off as he went about his morning routine, as he began to walk towards the hexagonal bunker that was the Conduit Engineers headquarters, he realizes he had a week's paid in full vacation, with an extra recreation credit they had generously allotted to him, he figured it was the least they could do before throwing him to the wolves, and he chuckled at his own ironic sentiment. He quickly pivoted, and calling up his display phone hologram, called Nalia, he offered to take her to San Francisco, to which she heartily agreed, and reminded Ved that she received a credit to her account as well. The rest of that day, and subsequent week was spent in various cities within the Sanctum. Their first day at San Francisco was light hearted and both thoroughly relaxing and enjoying their time off, they perused the newest gadgets being sold from what came out of the technological hub of San Jose, the sky scrapers towering far into the sky, different strange people coming and going. Ved had heard stories of the strangeness of the city before the war broke out, not much had changed, or was likely too unless this Sanctum also fell apart like the other one, but then, most held out in the end, people just wanted their peaceful consumerism more than barbarism, though both had their ups and downs, some more down than other's.

        The rest of the week was spent touring the other parts of the Sanctum, taking a quick ZipCab to San Jose, seeing the cutting edge technology being excreted out of there on almost a yearly basis, which they so diligently made sure was visible to all as they walked through the glass and holographic environments and so forth, every inch of roof space being taken up by Solar Panels. Ved and Nalia then headed for Santa Cruz, taking the underground VoltTrain to the sunny beaches of the city now known as a resort city, heading as far south as they could go before getting to the Sanctum Barricade itself, Ved amusingly imparting how the other side was a town known as Freedom, both Ved and Nalia getting a good laugh out of the notion. The week was spent trekking around the Sanctum, enjoying the small slice of paradise, with the threat of the Barrens just outside a massive steel wall 200 feet high and some 40 to 60 feet thick.

        Finally the end of their week vacation came to a close and on the Monday that their week came to an end, Ved found he was growing closer to Nalia every day and almost lamented at the fact that he would be entering into what many on the outside probably saw as hell itself. A courier message dinged in Ved's and Nalia's messaging, a hologram popped up as the two were out for breakfast in the morning, the message requested and required their presence in the Conduit Engineer's headquarters, Wing A, Induction Room. 

        "Well that was a fine time spent around the Sanctum, damn it all if I didn't wish we could get another week Li," Ved beginning to use the nickname for both endearing purposes and because there were times she acted more masculine than Ved, which he used to tease her, "Any last words?"

        "Oh shut the hell up Ved, you make it sound like a damn death sentence, in case you forgot you're the one going out into the Barrens, not me." While Ved smiled at her sentiment he could see the slight anxiety in her eyes and backed off, they were both feeling on edge about what was to come, but he had a nasty habit of making it worse rather than better in these instances. They made their way over to the Conduit Engineer headquarters, and after walking down some transparent corridors and making their way through the new recruit chambers and exosuit repair department, found themselves standing with 4 other pairs looking unkempt and a little disgruntled at what lay in store for them in the future.

        A lean muscular man came out of a thick heavy door, his eyes were cold and piercing, his hair trimmed short with a long scar running along from temple to the back of his head, there were three small line tattoos on the left side of his neck and he wore a uniform like exosuit, his head exposed surveying the room with the trainees within. 

        "Ok, I'm, not one to mince words so I'll get right down to it, right now you're in a secured room and have been chosen by your superiors because they felt you were able enough or fool hardy enough to do this mission and get out alive, my job is to keep you alive so you best keep your senses alert and your mind awake, clear?"

        Most replied with a resounding yes, or yea, he nodded his agreement and continued on, "Look, you're not soldiers, and you're definitely not Stratos Troopers, but they called me in, and I train some of the most hardened bastards you'll meet, men or women, they come out hoping they get to kill blunt heads and absolutely do not care if they come out alive." Ved saw the progenitors roll in their grave, but came to the conclusion that no matter what city state a person ever lived in, one could never escape some sort of military force, no matter how enlightened those people may be.

        "With that," continued the instructor, a stern finality in his voice, "My name is Fleming, I am not your drill instructor, I am not your recruit officer, I am only one thing, the guy that will keep you alive on the outside, so get this straight, no bullshit, no objections, got it?"

        Again he was met, though a little more vigorously, with the accompanying yes', and yea's, to which he nodded his approval, everyone seemed to understand that Fleming would be their best bet to insure they came back from the Barrens alive and healthy, or as healthy as one could be from exiting that place. 

        Ved looked to Nalia, who exchanged a bemused and slightly worried glance with him, but managed a halfhearted smile before returning her attention to Fleming. Ved could see the next month, unless they extended it seeing as this group may need the extra time, he could see intense exercise regiments, field aptitude excursions, tech comprehension testing, the whole manual condensed into a month or more. What Ved truly saw though, was the cold arid Barrens, the countless psychopaths that roamed the outsides looking for their fixes, killing man, woman or child without a second thought, he saw himself walking tentatively, taking one false step near some ruined old skyscrapers and a group of crazy cannibals chomping down on his lifeless skull, the last images would be of a blunt heads hammer bashing his head apart, it was not a fun future to picture, so Ved made sure that he followed that mantra, no bullshit, no objections. 

TBC (again...maybe?)

Hmmmm so perhaps this will go somewhere, perhaps I'll end it sooner, who knows! Well I do, but again I'm still on the fence about this, I have about a million voices telling me, I'm not crazy, telling me to scrap this shit and move on, that I'm fucked as a writer, BUT then everyone has that inner doubt, mine just happens to use a megaphone the bastard. Any who, I'll keep writing and see where the hell it goes, maybe somewhere good, maybe not...in any case feedback or not, read or not, I'm enjoying it so far! 

Welp as always people, till next time

Roll you D20

Ryan

p.s. I will of course update this bad boy with something other than this little short story, when I feel an epiphany for games or what not, BAM I'll put it up, luckily for all of us, heh, this story stuff keeps me writing on here.