I’m thinking about taking a few weeks of vacation to work out some questions I have about the game. My publisher is doing their annual beef – adding new distributors, amassing and transferring inventory, checking in with remote staff, gathering progress reports on on-going projects and reallocating end of the year resources and timelines. It sounds fancy but it basically means they shut down for two weeks then come back bigger. It’s like the biological growth cycle of a great alien life form. Only it’s, you know, two great women, their sassy, brilliant little kids, and two dozen scattered staffers.
Just before this deep cyber slumber time of growth and change, the Mardi Gras 3000 Starter Deck will ship. Ooo mama. Not good timing there, but, hey, I’m the one that delayed the ship date by three weeks.
I figure, well, while Windstorm is metamorphoses, I should get away and go sequester myself with a horde of crazy play testers and hash out some of the lingering questions I have about the game. Nah, I’m not talking about playability or prep-ability. I’m talking about things like: Should there be an edition of the game that plays without a game board? (For small spaces or faster play.) Should the Level cards only be legal in tournaments if signing players are registered at the MG3K forum? (To keep folks honest.) Is humor okay in MG3K? Are other religious angles?
Should I wait to ship the game until after Windstorm awakens on October 24?
I know the answer to that. No way. Too many people are waiting for the game. By this Friday, when the game literally packs and ships, we probably have broken the 12K ceiling. It seems incredible to me but I want to see those packages. I want to lay hands on them. Damn. I want to stick stamps and seal envelopes, you know?! That moment is my moment. Normally, authors aren’t allowed to be all up in the warehouse, touching on their books or games or whatever. I *begged* (you think I’m kidding?), I *bribed* (free childcare? dinner? poetry?), I batted my lashes and pouted and recited Shakespeare sonnets and Psalms (hey, some of those are kinda sexy, huh?). Finally Jennifer and Cris gave in. The address to the warehouse was mine. Come Friday, it’ll be just me, alone, with a bunch of pack-and-ship strangers, sending out my babies.
Come Hell or high water, this is it, baby. Something like 98% of the play testers – all ages, races, game experience -- loved the game. That has *so* set me up. May 40% hate the game so much you vomit marshmallows and throw it away. Go ahead and post nasty things on my forum (they’ll be deleted within minutes, of course, I have very loyal admins and mods) and allow your degust to spill out through ferocious typing filled with angry typographical errors. Break my spirit, use sarcasms and witticisms that make you fell big and accomplished and qualified. Then, when you’re through sucking up my universal bandwidth, allow the remaining 60% of the paying costumers to bask in the eerily light of the Clowns.
:::What’s that sound, baby? Did you lock the door?:::
E.J.
