First, I mentioned some months ago that I found myself in a role where I was contributing to the quarterly reports for a list of companies. It's December. I barely managed to get details sorted for the menu before the terrible storm of the last quarter of the year reaching its fruition. I've had less time to write a post and less time for anything. Today I have a lull, but I'm not done yet. I'm simply in a holding pattern.
Secondly, the menu was never truly created for an online market. Here, let me put up some pictures and I'll explain.
The image appears blue, but that's a characteristic of the reflective light and the depth of texture inherent in the menu cover's quality. The menu is jet black, in fact; it's supple to the touch and positively luxurious. The silver-gloss pig is sweet and friendly. This isn't remotely captured online as it would be were I to put the menu physically into your hands. And those who have already received the menu will back me up on that. The menu's appearance is surprising. It's astounding. I've already sold a copy, cold, to an utter stranger in a coffee shop. I've personally witnessed dozens of raised eyebrows from persons who know little to nothing about D&D, and yet are blown away by the appearance. Commonly, I get a response along the line of, "How in heaven's name were you even able to do this?"
Inside and out, this is a thing of absolute beauty. Those who have said, "Well, I'll use it once maybe, but then it will wind up in the back of some closet," can say it only because they haven't had the opportunity to share this jewel of an object with others. No, it will go on a treasured, carefully protected shelf ... and occasionally you will take it out for a guest and say, "Oh, hey, look at this." And your guest's eyes will pop out, and they'll say, "Wow," and you'll feel like a brilliant effete for having decided to own this thing.
But ... since all the common world online has is a picture, and not the tactile, graceful work of art as they would if they encountered my table at a game con, I don't see much sense in frustratingly beating the woeful online community for a few sales. When I do start selling these at a con, they will fly off our table. And they will be shown to others at the con, who will rush to my table to get their own copy. Which I will sell face-to-face, in a friendly, mutually respectful manner, without a post office and an unreliable delivery system stuck between us.
So if I don't pound a drum like James Raggi did, or like Timothy Brannan does, or any of the other hacks around who have ceased blogging about thoughts and now only hawk constantly whatever's on sale this week, it's because I have another agenda. This is not the "Tao of Menu." This is the Tao of D&D.
In any case, I have something new and different that's starting February 1st, that this month of constant work is wonderfully paying for. I have to use my energies to get ready for that.
Alexis, I just pickedup my menu from the old house. Unboxed it and ... it's gorgeous! Wow!
ReplyDeleteNow I have to decide whether to put the Piglet, as a specific location, in the "Fallow-like" starting zone of my campaign beginning in the new year ... ... or use the menu items piecemeal. Thinking the latter - use the taproom items for a tavern, use the finer dining items for a restaurant frequented by merchants and those with governmental positions or flourishing businesses...
[starting new campaign on a generously sized mostly-settled island during monsoon season, to limit newbies to one area for a while ... limited economy w/o mainland resupply, lots of area to explore, known but rarely-trafficked quiet spots, friendly NPCs, clan politics w/ character generator tweaked to give larger families to PCs, and at least one gold rush-esque land grab kicking off at some point. gonna go snag your rules for wind/heat/precipitation effects on combat and travel, IIRC they're quite complete.]
My favorite detail in the menu is that items such as absinthe deviate from a standard 'equipment list' style description. Or the "fried eggs" - a simple item conceptually but they're not just "cooked in oil/fat", they're "stolen fresh from our hens..." The hot spice entry is another good example.
ReplyDeleteThe feeling as I read was of a restaurantkeeper, proud of his hard-earned literacy, pouring every word he knew into the descriptions, and occasionally getting carried away with himself. [your achievement of the effect was controlled, of course.]
I noticed a typo BTW. Under Sideboard - Brown gravy: "an layer of sauce".
By the way. One more comment I've been meaning to make.
ReplyDeleteI've become an obsessive poetry fan and occasional poet over the last threeish years. Browning and Hopkins are my favorites.
There's a portion in Browning's Cleon that reminds me of you every time I revisit it.
Thou, in the daily building of thy tower,—
Whether in fierce and sudden spasms of toil,
Or through dim lulls of unapparent growth,
Or when the general work 'mid good acclaim
Climbed with the eye to cheer the architect,—
Didst ne'er engage in work for mere work's sake—
Hadst ever in thy heart the luring hope
Of some eventual rest a-top of it,
Whence, all the tumult of the building hushed,
Thou first of men might'st look out to the East:
The vulgar saw thy tower, thou sawest the sun.
Sigh. A spelling mistake makes it more authentic. I never saw a menu without one.
ReplyDeleteI suppose Browning has it right. I do seem obsessed with the sun and not the tower, and my desire to make others understand there's a sun to be seen once they have towers of their own.