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<blockquote data-quote="Kid Charlemagne" data-source="post: 500912" data-attributes="member: 93"><p>Somewhere around 120 sessions, over 8 years. Only the past 60 or so are represented in the SH, though</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Reader feedback is awesome. Its especially nice when people who aren't a part of the gaming group enjoy the story.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>All five of them.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Page views mean a lot, since it gives you an idea of how much people are enjoying your work. That said, when starting off, its very easy to feel extraordinarily depressed by how low the number is, so the only reason to REALLY write is for your own benefit and that of your gaming group.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>I can't really say that there have been any moments like that. Ther biggest problem was making sure I got the details right.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>1. Representing the actual game experience well.</p><p>2. Good Grammar.</p><p>3. Captivating story.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>1. Again, good grammar, paragraph breaks, etc.</p><p>2. Levity to break up the story is nice, but jokey Story Hours can be tough to read at times.</p><p>3. The ability to convey the PC's quirks and differences.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Right now, 4 or 5. I've been lax lately. Initially, I wrote the SH from the perspective of several years away, more recently, I'm writing within a week or so of the session.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>My first SH installment was written after the entire run had already finished. In the more recent installments, I hope I've never played to the crowd, so to speak.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>They enter the room where Brisco is, and Jovah asks him again what it is that the soldiers want him for. Brisco explains that the soldiers work for a man named Terrence Forge. Forge has a large number of men in the northern, unclaimed territories, and they are training for some kind of mission, but no one knows exactly what. Terrence Forge is a rich, rich man. He owns the Forgeway Company along with his older brother. The Forgeway Company is a large, powerful, Caradinian-based enterprise that makes money from Inns, mail service, and other things; sort of a medieval Wells Fargo. The party stayed in one the Forgeway Inns while they were in Norridge, Gavin points out. </p><p></p><p>Another of the Forgeway Company’s businesses is Magical and Alchemical research. This work is done primarily for the Caradinian military. This is the division of the company that Brisco got hired into. Forgeway’s contracts with its alchemical researchers are notorious for not having out clauses, as Brisco found out. </p><p></p><p>“Why would anyone hire you to invent stuff for them?” Jovah asks incredulously. “You’d be spending half your time inventing cherry-flavored halberds, or something…” </p><p></p><p>“They didn’t hire me just ‘cause they wanted me to be some minor guy!” Brisco protests. “I had an invention that I wanted to try and perfect! Forge saw the value of it…” the gnome’s voice trails off. </p><p></p><p>“That’s why he wouldn’t let me go.” </p><p></p><p>Jalea looks at the little gnome, and leans up against the wall. “This oughta be good,” he says to himself. </p><p></p><p>“What was it?” asks Aris. </p><p></p><p>“I’ve got some here! I can show you!” Brisco takes a wooden cup and a candle from the table, and then holds them under his cloak, turning away from the party and hunching over. </p><p></p><p>“Trade secrets. No peeking.” </p><p></p><p>The gnomish inventor feverishly works away under his cloak for a minute or so, whistling a tune as he goes. The party looks on, half amused, half confused. Finally, Brisco turns around. He’s wrapped the cup in cloth, and torn up the candle, removing the wick and sticking it into the rags. He lights the wick from another candle in the room, and sets the thing on the pillow of the bed, and looks at Jovah with a grin and a look of satisfaction. </p><p>Sir Brennen is unimpressed. “So what! That isn’t even a very good candle! What the H…” </p><p></p><p><strong>WHOOM! </strong></p><p></p><p>The cup explodes into splinters; the window above the bed is shattered and pieces of glass land in the alley behind the Inn. </p><p></p><p>Jovah is knocked flat on his back, and Sir Brennen stands in the middle of the room, blinking like he’s just had a flashbulb go off in front of his eyes. </p><p></p><p>“What the H*** was that!” Jalea screams from the corner of the room. </p><p></p><p>Brennen looks at the elf uncomprehendingly. “Speak up! Did you just say something!” the Sword of Kelanen says, too loudly for the room. Gavin and Reanna start putting out the fire that has started on the bed. </p><p></p><p>“Dear god in heaven,” Aris mumbles. </p><p></p><p>“The miserable little creature rediscovered the formula for smokepowder!”</p><p></p><p>“Are you telling me he invented that for the government of Carrandor!?” Reanna yells. “Should I gut him now, or do we need to ‘interrogate’ him first?!” </p><p></p><p>“Hold on, hold on,” says Jovah, holding Reanna back. “He’s my cousin! I’m sure he has a good explanation for all this,” he adds, not particularly hopefully. </p><p></p><p>“They don’t have it any more,” says Brisco, keeping on the far side of Jovah from Reanna. “I destroyed the formula, and blew up all the stored powder.” </p><p></p><p>“Okay, that means I can kill him now, right?” Reanna struggles against Jovah and Sir Brennen. </p><p></p><p>“No,” says Jovah. </p><p></p><p>“Maybe just beat him up a little bit?” Reanna asks plaintively. </p><p></p><p>“NO!” yells Jovah. </p><p></p><p>During the night, Jalea finds the bag of smokepowder Brisco is concealing in his backpack, and replaces the powder with a reasonable facsimile. The next morning Brisco seems none the wiser. Jalea makes a note to himself: Avoid open flame. </p><p></p><p><em>Jalea has a 7 Wisdom. His chances of remembering this in a moment of crisis are remote. </em></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>See the Sig, snookums! Also, see <a href="http://enworld.cyberstreet.com/showthread.php?s=&threadid=109" target="_blank">here!</a></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Kid Charlemagne, post: 500912, member: 93"] Somewhere around 120 sessions, over 8 years. Only the past 60 or so are represented in the SH, though Reader feedback is awesome. Its especially nice when people who aren't a part of the gaming group enjoy the story. All five of them. Page views mean a lot, since it gives you an idea of how much people are enjoying your work. That said, when starting off, its very easy to feel extraordinarily depressed by how low the number is, so the only reason to REALLY write is for your own benefit and that of your gaming group. I can't really say that there have been any moments like that. Ther biggest problem was making sure I got the details right. 1. Representing the actual game experience well. 2. Good Grammar. 3. Captivating story. 1. Again, good grammar, paragraph breaks, etc. 2. Levity to break up the story is nice, but jokey Story Hours can be tough to read at times. 3. The ability to convey the PC's quirks and differences. Right now, 4 or 5. I've been lax lately. Initially, I wrote the SH from the perspective of several years away, more recently, I'm writing within a week or so of the session. My first SH installment was written after the entire run had already finished. In the more recent installments, I hope I've never played to the crowd, so to speak. They enter the room where Brisco is, and Jovah asks him again what it is that the soldiers want him for. Brisco explains that the soldiers work for a man named Terrence Forge. Forge has a large number of men in the northern, unclaimed territories, and they are training for some kind of mission, but no one knows exactly what. Terrence Forge is a rich, rich man. He owns the Forgeway Company along with his older brother. The Forgeway Company is a large, powerful, Caradinian-based enterprise that makes money from Inns, mail service, and other things; sort of a medieval Wells Fargo. The party stayed in one the Forgeway Inns while they were in Norridge, Gavin points out. Another of the Forgeway Company’s businesses is Magical and Alchemical research. This work is done primarily for the Caradinian military. This is the division of the company that Brisco got hired into. Forgeway’s contracts with its alchemical researchers are notorious for not having out clauses, as Brisco found out. “Why would anyone hire you to invent stuff for them?” Jovah asks incredulously. “You’d be spending half your time inventing cherry-flavored halberds, or something…” “They didn’t hire me just ‘cause they wanted me to be some minor guy!” Brisco protests. “I had an invention that I wanted to try and perfect! Forge saw the value of it…” the gnome’s voice trails off. “That’s why he wouldn’t let me go.” Jalea looks at the little gnome, and leans up against the wall. “This oughta be good,” he says to himself. “What was it?” asks Aris. “I’ve got some here! I can show you!” Brisco takes a wooden cup and a candle from the table, and then holds them under his cloak, turning away from the party and hunching over. “Trade secrets. No peeking.” The gnomish inventor feverishly works away under his cloak for a minute or so, whistling a tune as he goes. The party looks on, half amused, half confused. Finally, Brisco turns around. He’s wrapped the cup in cloth, and torn up the candle, removing the wick and sticking it into the rags. He lights the wick from another candle in the room, and sets the thing on the pillow of the bed, and looks at Jovah with a grin and a look of satisfaction. Sir Brennen is unimpressed. “So what! That isn’t even a very good candle! What the H…” [b]WHOOM! [/b] The cup explodes into splinters; the window above the bed is shattered and pieces of glass land in the alley behind the Inn. Jovah is knocked flat on his back, and Sir Brennen stands in the middle of the room, blinking like he’s just had a flashbulb go off in front of his eyes. “What the H*** was that!” Jalea screams from the corner of the room. Brennen looks at the elf uncomprehendingly. “Speak up! Did you just say something!” the Sword of Kelanen says, too loudly for the room. Gavin and Reanna start putting out the fire that has started on the bed. “Dear god in heaven,” Aris mumbles. “The miserable little creature rediscovered the formula for smokepowder!” “Are you telling me he invented that for the government of Carrandor!?” Reanna yells. “Should I gut him now, or do we need to ‘interrogate’ him first?!” “Hold on, hold on,” says Jovah, holding Reanna back. “He’s my cousin! I’m sure he has a good explanation for all this,” he adds, not particularly hopefully. “They don’t have it any more,” says Brisco, keeping on the far side of Jovah from Reanna. “I destroyed the formula, and blew up all the stored powder.” “Okay, that means I can kill him now, right?” Reanna struggles against Jovah and Sir Brennen. “No,” says Jovah. “Maybe just beat him up a little bit?” Reanna asks plaintively. “NO!” yells Jovah. During the night, Jalea finds the bag of smokepowder Brisco is concealing in his backpack, and replaces the powder with a reasonable facsimile. The next morning Brisco seems none the wiser. Jalea makes a note to himself: Avoid open flame. [i]Jalea has a 7 Wisdom. His chances of remembering this in a moment of crisis are remote. [/i] See the Sig, snookums! Also, see [URL=http://enworld.cyberstreet.com/showthread.php?s=&threadid=109]here![/URL] [/QUOTE]
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