Illustration by Crystal Frasier

Sci-Fried: Pucker Up

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Cave raptors are sated; it's time to blog!

Back when I was a little ankle-chewer in the distant 1980s, there weren't a lot of strong female role models to choose from. Most of the women on TV were simpering damsels in distress or so fashion- and boy-crazy that they triggered my normally resilient goblin gag reflex. Then in 1985, Mattel rolled out She-Ra and my youthful, violent fanaticism found someone to latch onto. She-Ra still had a lot of fashion doll in her, but she had something that no other female character did: a friggin' sword! For a long while, She-Ra was my favorite show, and I still remember it fondly today, even if the series hasn't aged well.

And why in Lamashtu's name have I forced us all down this horrifying stagger through memory lane? So that it will really drive home the point when I say quite plainly: Jirel of Joiry would kick She-Ra's alabaster ass!

For this week's installment of Sci-Fried, I picked up a copy of the Planet Stories collection Black God's Kiss. Last time around, I enjoyed Kuttner's work on The Dark World, and in my research (and by research, I mean dumpster-diving in Wikipedia) I discovered that he co-wrote most of his later novels with his wife, C. L. Moore.

Illustration by Arnold Tsang

So, major spoilers: C. L. Moore is a woman!

Armed with the knowledge that women can write science fiction, I eagerly dove into Black God's Kiss. And I was not disappointed. The intrusion of pesky adventurers kept me from finishing all six thrilling tales, as their larcenous halfling made off with my copy in the fracas. But the first three short stories were more than enough to whet my appetite and have me picking up a replacement copy today at work.

Black God's Kiss collects Moore's six Jirel of Joiry stories into one convenient volume. The original badass, no-excuses warrior woman before Xena and Lara Croft made it cool, Jirel is the military commander (and later queen) of Joiry, a medieval French territory. She's the best swordswoman in the kingdom, the toughest brawler, and supremely focused on whatever her goal might be. She's every bit as violent as I am, but with all the self-confidence and human emotions I usually use my violence to compensate for.

But like an octopus without its legs, a cool character isn't much to look at if the writing is sub par. And Moore is par excellence. Moore's writing is like an expensive meal. You get the nourishing plot, of course, but what you really love is just putting the prose in your mouth and chewing, savoring those flavorful descriptions and the rich balance of analogies. It's like eating a pickle made out of tasty Halfling toes.

"But the darkness that bandaged her eyes was changed too, indescribably. It was no longer darkness, but void; not an absence of light, but simple nothingness."

That is art. It combines such simple ingredients to create an elegant whole and makes me understand a concept I could never personally experience without visiting family. It makes me want to backtrack, taste it again, and learn how to cook it myself. Jirel's travels beyond reality are so lip-smackingly vivid that they pull me in, despite the book's glaring minority of cephalopods.

Black God's Kiss is an exciting and fun collection of adventures with the kind of action-adventure hero that anyone can enjoy, and any gamer girl and empathize with. This isn't just a book I enjoy reading, this is a book I'm going to enjoy reading to my daughter some day...

Provided I can override my natural instincts to eat my young.

Well, third time's the charm.

Crystal Frasier
Production Specialist

Crystal's Story Time: Sacrifice

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

Illustration by Crystal Frasier

Cave raptors are sated; it's time to blog!

My father taught me a very important lesson as a young goblin: never try to eat a live cat. He also taught me that anything that is truly important to you requires sacrifice. And not the fun sort of sacrifice, where you get the family together for dinner and grandma bakes stollen and we all sacrifice a bound-and-gagged human for the greater glory of Lamashtu. No, it demands the unpleasant sort of sacrifice.

Gaming is important to me, and this weekend, it took its sacrifice. While running my favorite Pathfinder campaign, Curse of the Crimson Throne, and pantomiming the grisly death of a moderately important NPC, I took a pratfall that resulted in the unthinkable: my glasses were snapped like so much optometric seagull bone.

With my uncanny goblin skills (and a healthy supply of glue and wire), the break was easy to patch, but the damage has been done. I now sport the Prometheus Unbound of eyewear, and my shame is without end. No longer am I the office beauty, as any goblin should be, but rather a misshapen and hideous creature, no better than a common kobold. My game took a sacrifice of my dignity...

It also made a sacrifice of the 2d6 copper pieces I have jealously guarded since I was declared a 'combatant' at adolescence, but until we get into silver pieces, money just doesn't compare to dignity.

But I am not alone. Any serious gamer has had to make at least one sacrifice or compromise for the sake of roleplaying, and if I have to wear my sacrifice on the bridge of my nose for a few days, so be it! That delightful Tom Hanks fellow sacrificed his dignity for gaming, and look at him now! Sacrifice is an important element in the stories we tell around the table: it adds the cost that makes a victory valuable or the pathos that makes an encounter memorable. And the little sacrifices we as players make are no less important or memorable than the spectacular tragedies our characters make, and probably mean more to us in the end.

Roleplaying is worth a little hassle now and then for the happiness it brings, the friendships it forges, the occasional romance it inspires, and the birth of Warduke, who will unite us all beneath his iron fist. My sacrifice amused my friends and made their table experience that much more real, and I'm sure it will give my coworkers a few laughs as well. So as oxymoronic as it may be, I'll wear my wounded dignity with pride until I can get to the optometrist this weekend.

But until then, I can't see jack.

Crystal Frasier
Production Specialist

Illustration by Crystal Frasier

Sci-Fried: It's a Dark, Dark, Dark, Dark World

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Cave Raptors are sated; It's time to blog!

Time for a little back history on everyone's favorite literate goblin (and by that, I mean Golarion's only literate goblin): I love science fiction, but I am woefully ignorant of the subject. I sat on my mother's knee and watched Star Wars and Star Trek, I read through my father's dog-eared old copy of 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, and a few of my Saturday morning cartoons were set in space. That's about it. I remember reading some John Carter of Mars in junior high, but it didn't leave enough of an impression on me at the time that I even remember it that well. As embarrassing as it is for any goblin to admit, I just don't know much about this subject I enjoy, least of all its mysterious origins.

I supposed that's why Erik Mona, Pierce Watters, Christopher Carey, and James Sutter, the quartet behind Paizo's Planet Stories, line, asked me to start reading and reviewing this classic science fiction. Without any fond childhood memories (literally; my childhood involved being locked in a rabbit hutch with my 27 siblings), I wouldn't be viewing any of our Planet Stories fiction through the lens of nostalgia. Instead, I can dole out honest thoughts and observations on twentieth-century classics from a twenty-first century perspective.

Illustration by Emrah Elmasli

From my perspective, this is both thrilling and terrifying, like riding one of those blood-thirsty horses humans are so fond of. Now I get to read the classic origins of science fiction from almost a century ago for work, but at the same time, these are books that my boss loves. If I don't like them, will he feed me to the dreaded bandersnatch? Plus the library of Planet Stories is huge, and getting bigger every other month! Growing like a well-fed literary octopus (and you thought those metaphors were dead and gone). For my very first Sci-Fried, I decided to look at Henry Kuttner's The Dark World.

Time for another confession that will get me laughed at in the forums: I selected Mr. Kuttner because I really enjoyed the movie The Last Mimzy, which is based on Kuttner's short story Mimsy Were the Borogroves. I imagined that Dark World would be somewhat similar, familiar, and comforting in this strange new land of fiction.

But no. There was nary a stuffed rabbit to be found.

Instead, the story follows Edward Bond, who is not a little girl but rather a World War II veteran who feels strangely out of place in his own skin. It turns out that Edward Bond is not Edward Bond at all, but rather the wizard Ganelon from a parallel world, trussed up with Edward Bond's memories and life as a prison. I don't want to share too much of the story, but obviously the majority of the book takes place in the bizarre titular "Dark World," and many of the descriptions of this setting are both psychedelic and believable.

Kuttner's writing style is distinctively "chunky;" very intricate descriptions and bulgy sentences that can be a little difficult to handle at first if you're used to the "say it all now" style of modern authors. But The Dark World drew me in after the first chapter, and I had trouble putting the book down once that happened. What at first seemed like a fantasy story instead took a sharp turn into sci-fi as Kuttner tried to explain everything from vampires and werewolves to Cthulhian gods with the science of the 1940s. Some of the theories stretched my suspension of disbelief, but never quite broke it. Having finished the book now, I almost wish it were longer, with more time to examine the uncanny science and history of the Dark World itself.

The narrator is probably the best part of the book. We see everything through the protagonist's eyes, but until the very end we're never told for certain whether it's Ganelon with Edward's memories, or Edward with Ganelon's memories. Control switches between the two personalities, and bits of memory bleed through to the other, which makes what could've been an obnoxiously perfect hero into an underdog I could root for. I really want to spoil the ending, because it made me cackle with delight, but instead I will demand that you order your own copy and read it for yourself.

My final impressions of The Dark World are that it can be a difficult book to start, but once you get into the pace and get used to Kuttner's narrative flavor, it's an impossible book to stop. Once all the pieces are in play, the action flows fast and furious, with only occasional chapter breaks to let you catch your breath. The Dark World is relatively short, making it a great first step into the genre of pulp that you can read in one sitting. If you love science and history as much as I do, then some of the genre explanations will make you positively giddy. A fun book, even 63 years after it was originally published, and definitely one I'd recommend.

Dark World may have lacked hyper-advanced stuffed bunnies, but that's only because this book is for grownups.

Crystal Frasier
Production Specialist

Ecology of the Pathfinder Product, Part 6: Move 6d6 Tons, and what do you get?

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Illustration by Crystal Frasier

Cave raptors are sated; it's time to blog!

So far, we've uncovered the shocking details of raising an innocent idea into a rebellious roleplaying product, but if your beloved book never moves out of the house, then it will never really make anything of itself. Now is the time when a PDF, so self-important, must go out into the world by itself. And sure, it may come back wrinkled or torn, or even upside down, but without that life experience, it will never truly be its own book. It's time to talk about the physical, blue-collar side of game design: printing, warehousing, and distribution.

For all intents and purposes, Dwarves is ready to pack up and head off to college. Out of sight of its overprotective developers and even its best friend, the art director, it will grow into a bearded adult of glossy pages and the comforting scent of ink. Then it comes home, where its loving parents criticize its dress, notices it's gained weight, and implies that it should cut its hair because it looks like a hippy. Then it leaves again.

Printing of RPG products is arranged through horrible, arcane methods, often via deals with unseen and unknowable supernatural powers. Paizo prefers to deal through the fey, who are both adept at weaving physical products from ideas and accept readily available sandwiches as payment (in truth, lead developer Jason Buhlman's most important contribution to the company is his astounding egg salad, which pleases the fey queen Titania and ensures a lasting business relationship and a minimum of ironic curses). Once the electronic layout of a book is finished, it is transferred through a series of tubes to the distant faerie courts. The attending pixies immediately spin it into gold, and then press the gold itself into physical books and arrange for its return. Total elapsed time to print a Paizo product: 14 minutes. Sadly, due to the unstable chronological connection between the First World and our own mortal realm, upwards of two months may pass in our world during that 14 minutes.

Eventually, sprite couriers, glamered as UPS drivers, drop off multiple tons of product at the Paizo warehouse. This fabulous structure, adjacent to the production offices, is the realm of warehouse manager and 10th-level monk Jeff Strand. The warehouse stores not only Paizo's catalog of products, but also much of the stock for the online store, and so organization is vital. Inhuman physical strength is also important, as every pallet of products can weigh up to an Imperial ton (which is to say, it weighs as much as 2,000 pounds worth of emperors). Jeff and his able-bodied assistants work tirelessly to ship orders out as soon new product arrives, focusing first on Paizo's thousands of loyal subscribers. During these rushes, Paizo CEO Lisa Stevens and Vice President Jeff Alvarez can even be found braving the warehouse's icy trenches and lurking glabrezu in order to send books far and wide.

The enormity of Paizo's distribution efforts is staggering, especially to a little goblin. In addition to sending out literally tons of product at a time to subscribers and fans, pallets of each and every product to come through the door immediately goes back out to retail distributors like Alliance and Diamond. Like NBA scouts, these distributors then ship our MVPs all across the U.S. of A. and beyond, across the ocean to Europe and even north into the fabled Canada. And this volume doesn't even include our licensees who translate Paizo products for non-English-speaking fans.

Printing and distribution are vital to the lifecycle of a gaming product. Without that final kick out of the nest, to plummet or soar, pages would be doomed to constant revision. Roleplaying is built on a spine of pulp and glue, and losing the physical quality of the game book means losing an important piece of our heritage. Without that healthy respect for the past, the next generation will grow up cold and mechanical, controlled as they are by the fluoride in their computer screens. By the end, we'll bow before our PDF overlords, and soylent green will be people!

Plus, if you drop your latest Pathfinder in the bathtub, you can fix it with a hairdryer—try doing that with an e-reader!

This wraps up our quick review of the Paizo publishing process; you now understand as much about creating new products as I do. Starting next week, we'll take a look at existing Paizo products with our new feature, Sci-Fried.

Crystal Frasier
Production Assistant

Ecology of the Pathfinder Product, Part 5: Layabout

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Illustration by Crystal Frasier

Cave raptors are sated; it's time to blog!

There comes a time in every game product's life when a developer has to learn to let go; to let his sweet, innocent babe go out, make mistakes, and grow into a book. A game product needs to stay out late, crash the car, and hang out with the wrong crowd. And that wrong crowd is the art director, in Paizo's case the amazing Sarah Robinson and the undefeated James Davis.

Welcome to the jungle we call layout.

When last we saw Dwarves of Golarion's's art director, she was a childhood friend helping to tutor the infant sourcebook in good grooming and healthy posture. But now that editorial puberty has hit, the art director becomes a corruptive influence. She'll introduce the book to page composition, gateway fonts, and the pagan ways of design. While the developer cares about making a good text, the art director (or humble-yet-beautiful production goblin) is only concerned with tarting the book up.

Once development and editing are finished, layout is everything else. It means making an attractive page that doesn't remind the reader of a junior-high science textbook. It means making sure the words, the art, and all the stat blocks don't trip over each other. It also means constantly harassing the developers and editors to cut or add words and send material to work with in a timely fashion. The process is arduous, often checking a work line by line for tight spacing or dangling widows (who hang around poorly laid-out products to get their kicks; during last month's move we uncovered no fewer than thirty-eight widows cleverly concealing themselves in the recycling bin). For any given product, the process may take hours, days, or even weeks, depending on how recently the art director has been fed.

In ye olden times, layout was performed by hand, using glue and a layout churn to mock up a page and send it away to the printer by horseless carriage. These days, much of the hard work of layout is performed by computer, where all the trimming and gluing are handled digitally. The common computer terms "Cut," "Paste," and "Churn" actually hail from these pre-computer layout processes.

This is the basic workspace, with the guides for page and column sizes. Boring enough.

Our text needs to live somewhere fancy, so first we design an attractive page.

We drop in the formatted text from the developer next.

Now we switch everything to a dwarfier font and adjust the text spacing a little.

Add some frames and titles, so we all know what we're looking at.

Now we drop in our artwork, wrap the text around it, and make sure everything fits.

And that's a finished spread!

Like a fancy show octopus with a mastery of sign language, a well laid-out product is a joy to look upon and easy to understand. While the prose might make a book beloved, its layout makes it popular, and often the only difference between a bestseller and a discount special is how well each page presents itself. Without good layout, even well-written books would languish in exile, their hideous countenances creating a wall between themselves and the general populace. Resentment would set in, and as their numbers grew alongside their discontent, murmurs of revolution would spread. Cries of "Viva la Composicion!" would echo through the winding streets, followed by bloody, horrific riots. Heads of editors and writers alike would roll as the dispossessed texts yearned for justice, but settled for vengeance.

To dodge that bloodshed, make sure to follow up your writing and editing with a loving layout. The bourgeoisie will thank you for your effort.

And now our baby manuscript has grown up into a finished book! Or has it? Still nothing more than a digital file and a pile of black-and-white printouts, Dwarves won't be it's own book until it has returned with a diploma from one of several prestigious printers. Next week, we'll examine what goes on once the book is out of Paizo's hands.

Crystal Frasier
Production Assistant

Ecology of the Pathfinder Product, Part 4: The Editor's Compositional Fitness Challenge

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

Illustration by Crystal Frasier

Cave raptors are sated; it's time to blog!

Yes, editing: the sport of grammatically minded kings. So far we've examined the natural growth of Dwarves of Golarion, as well as its invaluable hours of education, and yet we've ignored physical fitness. Without a steady regimen of editing, our little manuscript could turn into a clumsy butterball, drawing ridicule and cruelty from other game products.

To keep a product trim, healthy, and happy, it's going to need editors to run it through its paces.

According to Paizo's editorial tag-team of Christopher Carey and James Sutter, an editor's job involves neither crushing the dreams of authors nor blindly hacking away at text, but instead is a carefully crafted routine to burn off flabby text and improve narrative posture. Like a cephalopod, any quality Paizo product needs to hit the gym regularly to keep it healthy. Just like any fitness-obsessed octopus will hit both the free-weights and the treadmill, Paizo products will rotate their editing to catch problems with grammar, spelling, word choice, continuity, voice, and even the occasional rewrite to adjust the word count. Even the greatest authors will occasionally dip into the candy-coated bacon of purple prose or forget to tie their punctuation, so a good editor can help make sure every product can fit into its cover before the big class reunion.

The amount of editing any given product needs is easily determined with the formula n+1, where n is the amount of time you actually have to edit the book. Because of this conundrum, it's important for editors to make the most of the time they do have. At Paizo, the ideal grammatical specimen sees four editorial passes: two from each of Paizo's own hard-nosed prose-wranglers. A 'pass' is a single read-through. Obsessive-compulsive as any wild pack rat, these editors greedily gobble up any mistakes they sniff out, trading it for proper spellings or active voice. And because anyone, even editors, can make mistakes, multiple passes and different editors help to ensure that no errors go unexamined.

For Paizo products especially, the editors also serve the dual role of security. They stand constant vigil over continuity of Golarion, ensuring that dead NPCs don't crop back up, that cities don't spontaneously shift location, and that worst of enemies aren't running around as BFF. The editors have the blessing and curse to read every product Paizo releases, from thrilling Planet Stories to mysterious modules, and serve as living repositories of the universe.

And yet they stay so svelte, just like the products they care for.

Editing is necessary for the health and longevity of a product. Without it, mistakes, typos, and plain, old dead wood can slip through into the final product, clogging intakes eventually leading to frustration overheating in readers. The heat released by frustrated readers contributes to the inconvenient truth of global warming, melting the polar ice caps, flooding coastal regions, and causing alligator populations to explode. Ultimately, mankind devolves into primitive tribes of swamp dwellers, hiding in terror from the maurading ultra-gators that have made this marshy, dystopian Earth their own!

So to keep your writing trim and healthy, and to ensure the survival of the human race, edit!

Now that our product is happy, healthy, and knows where its going in life, next week we're ready for that special time in every product's life when it truly becomes a book. Next week, we examine layout!

Crystal Frasier
Production Assistant

Ecology of the Pathfinder Product, Part 3: An Outbreak of Art

Tuesday, October 5, 2009

Illustration by Crystal Frasier

Cave raptors are sated; It's time to blog!

As it stands, Dwarves of Golarion is now written and assembled by its loving developer. Though awkward and gangly, we can see what it will finally grow up into. But at this point, this happy child is nothing more than a text document in the daycare that is a documents folder, happy rolling in the mud and receiving bowl cuts from mom. But there's an ugly truth for gaming products that this little production goblin's learned at her junior prom: you can be creative and brilliant, but if you don't look good, nobody'll pick you up.

Enter the art order, the good grooming of game design.

The majestic octopus mates for life, and hopes to find a sensitive and intellectually compatible lover that shares its appreciation of American Gothic poetry, but it will make its initial judgments based on appearance and health. Similarly, good art can make a product seem interesting and romantic before the first words are even read. It can make the difference between a product you don't tell your friends about, and one you take home to mom. But like an attractive octopus, a quality illustration must be carefully cared for if it is to be worthwhile.

The art order begins once the text for a product has begun development. By now, the developer knows how everything will shake down, even if the specifics remain a mystery. The developer will sit down with the decorator crab that is the art director, and with careful attention to the budget, they decide how much art the book can stand and what compelling elements to call out in pictorial form. With that list completed, the task is kicked back to the developer and his editorial cronies, who write up brief descriptions of all the illustrations they'll need to get their product a seat at the popular table during lunch.

By now, the art director is already comfortable in its den, combing through the preferred artists list and thinking about what to assign to whom. Just like writers and tutors, different artists' styles lend themselves better to different moods and fit different products*. A happy, bubbly, or wacky artist would be a terrible fit for Dwarves of Golarion's "quiet and cool" attitude, and would be better suited for its goofy sidekick, Gnomes of Golarion. Once the art orders are written, the art director mails them along to the illustrators of choice, together with the promise of great riches.

The first thing received from the artists are those embarrassing family photos we like to call 'sketches.' These are passed out among the editorial and art staff, who make crippling judgments about cowlicks, large ears, and crooked teeth that will haunt the product well into adulthood. They also make note of any changes the artist needs to make.

Finally, the finished images are received from the artists who, like the octopus, die shortly afterwards. This cruel cycle of nature provides the few glimpse of a grown-up, mature product that needs to be home by ten because tonight is a school night.

Illustrations by Jeremy McHugh

The art order is vital in a product's life cycle because it prevents the normally docile artists from breaking free of their enclosures and wandering the streets, mauling and tagging innocent civilians at random. It also serves as the cranial implant that prevents the art directors from seizing the reigns of power and assuming their rightful places as god-kings, directing the entirety of a company's funding into a single, penultimate illustration that makes children weep and grown men fall to their knees in prayer. Very important if you are a company looking to put out more than one product.

By now in the life cycle, our game product has begun to grow up and go through some awkward changes. Suitors have come calling, and its started wearing makeup. Tune in next week when we'll examine how to cope with your precious first draft's frustrating period of editing!

Crystal Frasier
Production Assistant

*Except for Wayne Reynolds, whose art is universal and can bring peace to warring nations.

Ecology of the Pathfinder Product, Part 2: The Awkward Development Years

Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Illustration by Crystal Frasier

Cave Raptors are sated; It's time to blog!

When last we left Dwarves of Golarion, it was a mere egg of an outline, being fussed over by attentive parents and waiting to hatch. But now it is time for that blessed moment when an idea emerges into the world as written words! It is time for… the development phase!

Development is the process of growing a book from an idea and a few rough notes into written text, rearing the infant outline into a rebellious and hateful teenager who will keep you up at nights, drinking your secret stash of scotch and praying to god it turns out alright. Much like the rearing of the noble octopus, a game product requires two separate parties: the designer and the developer. Designers are the writers and artists (more on those wily and attractive artists next week), while the developers are the core who tie everything together. Where developers are comparable to an overprotective parent, designers are more akin to teachers: chosen carefully by the developer to impart information and direction to their snot-nosed offspring.

Of course, this is not an insult. Both octopi and game developers are widely known for their post-nasal drip.

Choosing a writer is a careful task. Like parents, developers want someone who will make their job easier. These choices are made by means of an arcane formula that takes into account past products, punctuality, and relative position of the stars. Managing Editor Wes Schneider admits that Paizo relies on a small, incestuous lot of authors to rear our products. Putting new designers through their paces requires time and branding irons, both of which Paizo has in painfully limited quantities*.

For roleplaying products, the ideal designer can fill three vital roles for the juvenile product: author, game mechanic, and artisan. Telling a good story and having a firm grasp of the mechanics are important, but just as vital and oft overlooked is the role of player-friendly artifacts in a young game's life. Like a sweater vest, legible maps and gripping player handouts are those little touches that decide if a product rides along on the bus or resides at the cool table at lunch.

The developers' job is just as challenging and vital to give their books the best chance at happiness. They need to organize everything those precious bundles have absorbed from their designers and make sure they play nice with the other products. A developer needs to tweak the mechanics to balance with the system at large, rewrite some fluff to keep the narrative canon, and embarrass the product in front of its friends. Even the best writing needs at least a week or two in development, says Schneider, because "folks aren't here every day, and they don't know exactly what we need."

Dwarves of Golarion and similar anthology products are like troubled foster kids: they get bounced between several authors and other corrupting influences. A firm and loving eyeball is needed to guide them through this troubled time. The twitterpated Sean Reynolds, developer in charge of this problem child, has had his hands full. Every line written by its savage gang of authors needs to be reviewed for balance and continuity, and he must occasionally search its room for illicit substances and pop culture references.

Without proper development, a game product suffers. Its already-overworked Paizo parents stretch themselves too thin trying to write thousands of words a day while maintaining their backbreaking day jobs in the grammar mines. Neglected and uneducated, the books would fall back into dull narrative habits and eventually turn to crime to make ends meet. Crime rates skyrocket, property values plummet, and we are all left unprepared for the forthcoming invasion of the reptimen from the Earth's core!

So, for a happy and contributing addition to the RPG landscape, make sure you follow the example of the methodical octopus. Keep a close group of talent to help raise your products, but don't give away your own parental responsibilities!

Tune in next week, when we examine the art of art, and stretch the octopus metaphor to it's breaking point!

Crystal Frasier
Production Assistant

*Wes also mentions that if you're a newcomer who'd like to write for Paizo and has a high pain threshold, you should still write and submit. Both the Pathfinder Society Open Call and RPG Superstar are Paizo's favorite tools for reviewing new blood in an organized setting. Publishing your own material online through a blog or website is a good icebreaker as well (check out Paizo's Community Use Policy for more details). Being on productive and nonviolent terms with other publishers also helps, as the RPG industry is made up of a mere 73 people, all of whom know each other personally and frequently gather for the imbibing of caustic organic solvents.

Ecology of the Pathfinder Product, Part 1: Hatching an Outline

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

Illustration by Crystal Frasier

Cave raptors are sated, so now it is time for blogging!

Few things spring into the world fully formed, and game products are no exception. And if you aren't involved in the publishing industry, you might expect the life cycle of a supplement as unknowable as that of an octopus.

And it is.

As a neophyte nanny in the Paizo maternity ward, my elbows-deep, on-the-job training has been a real eye-opener. And if I have to suffer through that experience, then there's no reason not to share the pain. Over the next few weeks, we'll take a look at the stages of development of a young sourcebook, show off embarrassing baby pictures, and generally demystify the miracle of life as we follow Dwarves of Golarion from Outline, to Development, through Art Orders, Editing, Layout, Extra Editing, and finally Printing and Shipping.

The octopus knows it is time to reproduce when the seasons are right. Similarly, Paizo Publisher par excellence, Erik Mona, explains that a product first emerges when the various carriers demand a season's previews for their catalogs. At this point, the development team enters a furious ritual to determine whose memes are passed on to the next generation of Pathfinder canon.

Once the product ideas are agreed upon, each one goes on to outlining.

As a book egg, the outline doesn't tell us much, except that the book is healthy and to start preparing the office for its blessed arrival. We know who the proud papas are, and the outline hints if the book will grow into a fluffy nerd or crunchy jock, but nothing is set in stone just yet. Developers dig out warm nests in a hard drive to house the outline, lining it with file folders and sticky notes until writers can be assigned to help the book hatch and develop. A title (and adorable nickname) is decided upon, the chapters are parsed out, words counts are decided, and a handful of notes give developers and contributors an idea what the baby book will look like all grown up.

Unlike the noble octopus, the developer does not hover over the outline, constantly blowing salt water over it. Sean Reynolds occasionally spills latte on his, but more in a crude ritual to beg the gaming gods for the product's continued health.

Some things are immutable: Companions and Modules are Small sized (32pages), while Chronicles and APs will grow to Medium size (64 and 96 pages). Much like octopi, the largest, healthiest writers get first claim to the larger, healthier books, though until the outline hatches into development, even it's parentage can change.

Dwarves of Golarion Outline

As we can see from these adorable Dwarves of Golarion baby photos, the prenatal book doesn't resemble the adult product except in title. As the final draft of the outline, it's already showing the beginning signs of development: Exact words counts for each chapter have been decided and writers have been assigned to sit on the project until it hatches. We can also see in the bottom, left-hand corner that a goblin has chewed on this outline: an obvious indicator of superior product!

Without the outline, development would grow higgledy-piggledy, with chapters repeating each other, growing like tumors until they stretched the page count to breaking. Writers would run free, uncontrolled and burning things they shouldn't burn. Chaos would spill into the streets, and civilization as we know it would crumble.

So remember kids, be like the mighty octopus: plan your books carefully before getting started and save us all unneeded anarchy.

Crystal Frasier
Production Assistant

They appreciate my mastery of fire...

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Illustration by Crystal Frasier

Greetings from the new Paizo caverns! As the newest addition to the war party, it falls on me to write today's blog. I am Crystal, and yes, I am named after a shiny rock. We can all thank my grandfather and his love of all things shiny.

When I first met the very talented Sarah Robinson in a hotel restroom and asked her about layout and design, I never expected that to turn into a real internship, let alone a job. My own experience in production work has been limited, but my enthusiasm, wit, and mastery of fire have impressed the Paizo staff enough to bring me into the fold.

It's hardly surprising, of course. Much of my life has been spent gaming or burning down peasant villages, the two skills the gaming industry demands.

My first experiences with roleplaying come from junior high, where I was none-too-politely barred from joining the gaming club for 1) being a girl, 2) never having played before, and 3) mauling the faculty advisor (see issue #1 and #2). My first play experience came in high school, thanks to Palladium Books' Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and Other Strangeness. As a poor country goblin, I didn't even have my own fancy dice; instead I used paper lunch sacks. I filled them with numbered chits, and just drew my results instead of rolling for them. Some days I miss my "b20." Since then, games have filled my life, even to the point of writing and developing a few projects for small companies. Some of the stellar games I obsess over include Green Ronin's Mutants and Masterminds, Wizards of the Coast's d20 Modern and Ghostwalk, Hijinks (created by Paizo for Polyhedron #158), and Margaret Weiss's Serenity RPG, as well as the obscure and unheard-of Pathfinder RPG.

My mastery of fire is a meandering, unlikely tale and will need to wait for another day.

Working with the Paizo crew is exciting; these are some of the best writers, developers, and designers in the industry, and they work hard at jobs they love. Never have I seen such dedication in any career that did not include the words "chocolate factory" or "brewery." The offices themselves are delightfully non-Euclidean, and I've learned the hard way to keep my distance from the impossible corners and ignore the whispers.

As a production assistant, I help fill in the cracks and manage the grunt work for Paizo's savage art directors, James Davis and Sarah Robinson. This usually means managing the digital archives, making changes the editors want, and topping off the coffee. The harder I work, the easier it is for James and Sarah to weave their arcane rituals, transforming the mad, gibbering scrawls the editors create into those glorious Pathfinder and Gamemastery products we all know and love. Also, twice a week I descend into the sub-basement and feed the cave-raptors, lest their terrible hungers overwhelm them and they rampage through the offices, making books late.

And none of this would be possible if I hadn't worked up the nerve to talk to Sarah about learning the layout arts. So remember, if you really want to work for Paizo Publishing, the secret is propositioning someone in the bathroom!*

Crystal Frasier
Production Assistant

* The secret is not really bathroom propositions. Neither the author, nor Paizo Publishing, LLC endorse this course of action. Paizo will not be held liable for resulting criminal charges or civil lawsuits that may result. Offer not valid in Minnesota. Side effects include nasal discharge, headaches, and dice bags under the eyes.