Roleplaying games are my creative life. They’re my anchor to sanity. Over the past few years, as I’ve struggled through health issues, financial issues, sucky job issues, general life stuff, I can always fall back to either playing in a game, running a game, writing and fussing around with game stuff, or just blogging and forum-posting about games. It is called escapism for a reason. It’s a light spot in a sometimes dark and dangerous world. It’s my happy place.
There was a thread at The Dire Cafe recently where we talked about commitment to gaming, and people missing birthday parties and other events because they had a game. We talked about how, if you were on a softball team or a bowling league or something you could say “Sorry, that’s my X night” and folks would understand, but somehow view a standing roleplaying game group as in an entirely different category and something that can be blown off. Either way, people are counting on you to show up, and either way, it’s a recreational activity meant to help decompress, blow off steam, and continue to function in the stress-filled “real world”.
Roleplaying is my point of light, and I’m sure it is for many other people. It may sound silly, but it’s important to me, and to my health and well-being. It’s one of the reasons that, in spite of all kinsds of other things going on in my life, I need to be involved with SAGA, and my wife is encouraging me to take a larger active role in the organization. It’s also a non-profit, a by-gamers-for-gamers thing, which is important, because…
There’s a meme currently blowing through GTD blogs and sites about how over 100 studies have found that doing stuff for pay is a buzzkill. I’ve experienced it myself – I write UncleBear and other game stuff because I wanna, not because I gotta; when I feel like I gotta, it stops being fun, it starts feeling like a job, and ceases to be my point of light. Some stuff you have to do simply because you have a passion for it. It’s something in the way our brains are wired that we’re only beginning to understand.
Which brings me to the awkward segue to my next topic. Yesterday I was approached by two (2) different companies who want to be “the next Gleemax”. In the successful, let’s-make-a-social-network-for-gamers way, not the let’s-suck-ass-until-we-crash-and-burn way. They want to launch with a fair budget. Both of them want me “on the team”, and variously cite my track record with UncleBear as a nice site to visit with a clean layout, the way I’ve built The Dire Cafe into a nice little community, and my management experience in the real world. They want me involved, and they really want my input. The one thing no one’s stating, and the one thing I’m still figuring out how to ask, is how much they’re gonna pay me. Maybe that sounds a bit prickish, maybe it makes me sounds mercenary, but if it’s important and there’s a budget and my input is desired, that’s worth something. If I’m going to be helping you run a business at which you hope to turn a profit, I need cash. If I’m gonna do this –and yeah, on a lot of levels I wanna, but it will be work — I’m going to need some compensation. And if it’s going to end up being a buzzkill, something with the potential to blink out some of my points of light, I need something in return.