My housemate and myself have been playing Star Wars
Rebellion.
He’s the galactic Empire, a power with more resources
than all the real-world Empires of our history combined. I’m a plucky band of Rebels, darting from
planet to planet, attempting small-scale missions in the world-weary attempt to
cause entire worlds to rise up.
The box says 2-3 hours.
It’s been at least 4. So far, he’s
not found my Rebel base, so far I’ve not completed nearly enough
Objectives. It’s a war of attrition. And it’s dark outside, like the inky black of
space. And twice as cold.
I’ve been tired this year, and I’m not sure why. I started with the intention to write a whole
host of new poetry. I have a document on
this computer which is called, quite conveniently, Poems 2016. But none of them are of a quality I’m happy
with, and none of them are finished.
Obi-Wan Kenobi has been captured.
I wrote a poem about the 2015 York Floods, but found it
too crude and blunt for a complex issue which affected an entire City. I wrote a poem about William Shakespeare, but
it’s just not intricate enough to be worth the niche-ness. In all frustrating seriousness, I’m in a bit
of a rut.
My housemate lands on a planet, which was my Rebel
base. But I moved it. Sneak
Clearly, neither of us are enjoying this game very much
anymore. We could easily quit, and recommence
in the morning. But we look at the clock,
guestimate another 30 mins and crack on.
30 mins passes and Obi-Wan Kenobi has been frozen in Carbointe. I know the feeling.
So I’ve tried to change my diet, and get some more protein
in. It feels like it’s helped
somewhat. I cut out eggs and milk
without too much commitment to the proper replacements. I’ve added back in eggs, but trying to make
up the difference with more Quorn, spinach and kale.
I tried to blow up the Death Star, but didn’t send in enough
ships. The Death Star blows up another planet. The Rebellion isn’t looking too healthy.
That’s not to say I haven’t been busy. The Say Owt events we’ve run have been great,
and I’ve been doing plenty of busy work for the Laurence Batley Theatre and
Harrogate Youth Theatre. Me and my good
chum Nat have been making a theatre show for touring in 2017 (dinosaurs, punks,
y’know, the usual). Oh and blogging.
But sometimes the best laid plans for mice and Sith Lords
go awry, and you find yourself, at 23.49, writing a blog as a kind of apology
to yourself.
I’m starting to think up new pieces for my next fringe show,
a continuation of Up The Nerd Punks imaginatively titled Up The Nerd Punks 2. I have some poems in my head. I even started writing a new one the other
day.
It’s hard when the Empire have a Super Star Destroyer and
you’ve just got a few Transport ships.
It can be hard when there are so many productive people
in your scene, and genre. Making new
poems, getting gigs, getting commissions, getting praise. If you’re a bit stuck, there’s no one to
blame but yourself. I’m not talking about
being stuck due to mental illness, anxiety of depression, you can’t help
that. But stuck because nothing’s really
flowing, well. The force flows through
us all.
The game ends sometime around 1am. Chewbacca has been turned to the Dark Side,
but in doing so I can ‘cash in’ my Objective to not have any of my characters captured. We half-heartedly argue about whether Chewie
is considered ‘captured’ if he’s not part of the Empire’s side.
It doesn’t matter, I’ve won simply by holding out. The Base is secure, the Empire will
eventually be toppled and freedom will reign across the Galaxy someday.
You can keep plugging away. Trying different objectives, holding out,
defending or attacking. Consolidating or
controlling. As long as the Empire haven’t
force-choked you into submission, there’s always a New Hope.
One day those fireworks with spark over the moon of
Endor.
I sleepily pack up, and we promise to try the Game of
Thrones Card Game this week.
No comments:
Post a Comment