With focus about to return to the expedition team as it nears Krakow, I threw together a relationship map for the factions and actors described in the Broadstreet Dossier. Right-click and select “open image in new tab” to slightly embiggen.
It may also be worth reviewing the dossier itself…
And finally, here’s a sync table of the two groups’ timelines since the expedition departed Poninka.
It’s a cold late-autumn night in Ponikla. Snow is still on the ground from the season’s first heavy snowfall, but about a quarter of the village is gathered around two oil drum fires outside the radio studio, where Alexei is hosting the first Minka’s Home Remedies Hour.
In the machine shed that’s become the village’s armory, Arkadi is rebuilding a carburetor for alcohol fuel while he covers radio watch. His flow state is interrupted by, “Ponikla, Ponikla, this is Starosa House, come in.“
Arkadi sighs at the complete lack of communications security and picks up the microphone. “Starosa, Ponikla, go ahead.”
“We’ve had an attack here,” the caller from the North Farms reports. “We have four injured, one critical. Two enemies killed, the rest driven off. Is the d– is the nurse available?“
At least they remembered not to refer to Red as an actual physician on an open channel. “Starosa, stand by.” Arkadi steps to the door and whistles for one of the railyard teenagers. “Pawel! Go get Leks and Red.” No further explanation is needed. Both men will know that if they’re needed at the radio, there’s a problem somewhere.
Continue reading →Back to Charleston, WV for another iteration of a surprisingly good pocket-sized gaming con. I first attended with Tracker7 when he and I were rooming together in Lexington, half a lifetime ago – no con report for that trip. More recently, I’ve attended – and reported on – the 2024 and 2025 instances. Even better, it’s one of the few reliable times I get to see Tracker7 these days, and it’s becoming something of a summer reunion con for the Louisville Gaming Mafia.
The TL;DR is that the CharCon organizers continue to pack a shocking amount of gaming into a space whose size and geometry both should be more limiting. I have a few issues with various aspects of the con, but these are noteworthy for their low magnitude.
Continue reading →A user under the handle of Ryan Pendergast recently posted this to the Juhlin forum. It’s too good not to preserve and repost. This is a briefing map for the summer 2000 NATO offensive in the first edition Twilight: 2000 timeline. It really illustrates how far out on a limb 5th Infantry Division was even before they ran into the Soviet counterattack.
With Leks having turned a corner in his journey into the Bracia Wilków brotherhood, it’s a good time to roll up some of the story and mechanical considerations that have gone into this arc (and that have informed the on-screen appearances of Filip and his pack throughout the campaign).
First things first: I don’t know if the Venn diagram of Steelshod fandom and this campaign encompasses anyone but me. Even if no one else is positioned to catch this, though, I’d be remiss and unethical if I didn’t acknowledge the massive influence of /u/MostlyReadRarelyPost’s epic campaign log and, more specifically, his setting’s Ulfskennar. My vision for the Bracia Wilków has always hinged on that work. Not incidentally, if any of my three loyal readers are looking for a deep, sweeping fantasy campaign log into which to delve, just… go to /r/MostlyWrites and start chewing. I hope your chair is comfortable.
Continue reading →As noted at the end of the last entry, this scene played out privately over Discord. What follows is the writeup the player behind Leks provided for the rest of the group after the dust – rather, the snow settled…
Continue reading →We’ve all been waiting a while for this arc, which we played out on the group’s Discord server. What follows is a lightly-edited log of the chat between myself and Leks’ player.
Continue reading →Something seems to have broken the color palette in the site’s theme. I think I’ve figured out the stylesheet variable overrides, so everything should be back to its usual blue-grey.
The tag cloud is staying colorful because it makes me nostalgic for the days of 16-color MUDs played over dial-up.
A con is liminal space. It’s a pocket of unreality bounded by the host city’s build environment. It allows us to unmask, or at least to loosen the strings a bit. It’s a seasonal gathering place for the nomadic tribes of dice and media, complete with entertainers, merchants, and revels. For a weekend, we raise the varicolored tents and gather around the fire circles that burn well into the night. The neurodivergent are the majority here; the neurotypicals, for once, find themselves exiled to the sidelines of incomprehension if they aren’t willing to learn others’ rites and revel in the ways those others deem appropriate and normal.
For a weekend, we are safe to be.
Alexei went on a shopping trip and ran into some complications. Today, Alexei’s player fills in the gaps in that story.
Alexei pulled the bike over to the side of the road and checked the wound on his right bicep. Still burned like a bastard, but at least it was dressed and clean. Thank god that the fuel in the tank was both alcohol based and flammable as hell. Considering what had inflicted the wound, he was lucky he didn’t have gangrene already. Red would still need to give it a once over once he made it home. Alexei turned the bike into the wind, pulled his scarf over his face pressed on.
TWO DAYS PRIOR
“So, wait. You want to do what?” Alexei Brandt asked. Leks sat across from him in the cramped confines of the studio. The big man was very careful not to bump into the stacks of cassettes and LPs stacked haphazardly around the room.
“It’s a test of sorts. I need to prove myself, you could say.” Leks replied.
“Prove yourself how? You’re already kind of a badass. I mean, dude. You carry that machine gun like a toy. It looks like a toy compared to you.”
Leks chuckled. “Yes, but this is different. I would have to leave the MG behind.”
“So, what? Something smaller, like a nuke?” Alexei snorted.
Leks’ expression turned serious. “Nothing modern, Alexei. No guns, no plate vests, no explosives.”
“Holy fuck.”
Continue reading →