Clarion West Writeathon: 2013 Edition

Along Vera’s neck, on either side, are three round bits of grillwork, and when she comes in hard and fast, they scream, a whine that grates along all your nerves, even when you’ve heard it before.

They screamed now, and even muffled by the tents, they still forced Roto’s ears to flatten back, his whiskers tensed in an involuntary sneer and made me clamp my forearms over the sides of my head, muffling it. Shots barked out, then a rat-a-tat of semi-automatic followed by another like an echo. Vera’s own guns boomed.

There were screams.

I unfolded myself and started to rise. Roto yanked me back down just as a round of flying metal buried itself in the canvas bundle. If I’d stood, it would have decapitated me. We both stared at it. My ribs pulsed with ache and I realized I’d been holding my breath, I didn’t know how long.

There’s only so many ways for a group to attack you on particular terrain, and everyone had done exactly as they were supposed. The Bird Woman had a wing clipped, high and gouging the bone and all her children were fussing about her while Sieg bandaged it, the littlest with their heads buried in her skirts.

Bodies were slumped on the ground, five or six of them, but none of them were ours, so they didn’t matter. No one seemed worried about the post where the flashes of light had come from, so Vera must have taken care of those before coming down to us, as she was supposed to.

June was there with Vera, checking her over, fanning the long metal pinions out and examining them for wear and tear. The guns athwart her prow swiveled in two directions as though still alert, worried that something might happen. Pal was riffling that packs and pockets, but with little luck, judging by his expression, other than the pile of weapons slowly accumulating underneath the sign that read, “Trucks this way”.

Wren and two roustabouts who’d come on three towns ago were off to one side. On the road they didn’t smoke anything but jitter weed, and drank thermoses of strong black coffee, the good stuff, horded for when we were on the road.

Vera stirred as I went past, headed to bum a smoke from Wren. June turned, chuffing out a chuckle under her breath as she saw me.

“Miss Meg,” she said. “It’s just Miss Meg.” She patted Vera’s flank where she leaned up against it, and the war machine went quiet, though I could still feel its eyes on me.

“Good job, Vera,” I said, feeling daring. Most people didn’t talk to Vera. It was as though they forgot she could talk back. “Thank you for saving all our asses.”

June’s eyes widened, a tell so small I wouldn’t have noticed it if I hadn’t been watching her.

Vera chirped. “You’re welcome,” she said, after waiting a few seconds to make sure the chirp was not returned.

Neesh had most of the livestock out for a graze and mostly a poop. He knew the more of it they did on the cracked asphalt of the plaza, the less he’d have to clean out of the trailers. I checked the mini-elephants over out of habit, from the summer I spent tending them, but they were all unharmed, and engaged in eating all the nasturtiums out of the circular flowerbed in front of the runs that had once been a rest stop building. Out of habit I looked to see if it was loot able, but places like that have all been scavenged away, decades ago.

I got to Wren, Roto in my wake, and at my outstretched hand and upturned eyebrows, she shook a smoke loose for me and tossed it over.

“How long’s the break?” I asked.

Wren shrugged. “Never too short, out here in this heat. Once we get further down, we’ll be out of the heat.”

“We push on then?” I pursued. Wren shrugged again. She was affecting herself a bit in front of the new hires. She was circus born and bred, they were newbies, but she was still unused to the sway she held as their temporary boss.

Her nonchalance made me a little hot under the collar. She acted so cool. But she’d surely been hunkered down under cover like all the rest of us.

She narrowed her eyes at me as though reading my mind. “Problem, Meg?”

I shrugged and would have left it at that, but she just wasn’t content to let it go. Angry heat spiked through me as she stepped forward, towering over me.

I stuck my hands out to repel her.

She reeled back as my skin burst into flame.

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This essay originally appeared in the June 2001 issue of Imaginary Realities.

While finding new immortals for a MUD, MUSH, MOO or MURPE generally isn’t a problem, finding ones who will be a lasting and productive part of the team is. The first couple of weeks for a new staff member on a multiplayer game are the ones where the most mental adjustments are made, and the actions of other staff are often a crucial factor in whether or not those staff stick around. Armageddon MUD provides a good example of how this process can be made as painless as possible for both new and established staff members.

New immortals on Armageddon have undergone a fairly selective process to get there. When a gap is perceived, I post on our discussion board what the gaps are and who is being considered to fill them. In considering candidates, we look for the following:

• Imagination, creativity and writing talent
• Knowledge of the game and its world
• Ability to function as part of the team, including the ability to work with other people, to take input/criticism without feeling diminished or angry and a willingness to work within our guidelines and rules.
• A history of both integrity and trustworthiness
• Sufficient time and energy to dedicate for the game

At this point, I usually feel out the various candidates to see if there’s any of them who would not want to be on staff. Some people prefer to play, and do not wish to come on staff since the mystery of the game would be lost for them. If they’re interested and I haven’t seen past examples of their writing style, I might ask them to write up two or three possible small plotlines and send them to me as a sample. Other staff members post their impressions of the candidates or email in reactions to me, and in a week or so, we come to a consensus about which candidate(s) to approach.

Once that’s done, we set up the new immortal so they can start to read through our documentation, see what’s happening on the immortal discussion board, etc. Then they can log on and begin poking around, usually with another staff member walking them through the basic commands, questions, etc.

People come onto the Armageddon staff at the level of Storyteller. Storytellers run plots and clans, animate NPCs, build (etc). There’s a bewildering medley of options and expectations for a new immortal, so we assign a primary and secondary mentor, usually staff members who have been around for a while and who can answer questions. A lot of time they’re pointing people to the documenation.

We’ve got a lot of documentation, to the point where some new immortals have described it as daunting. But much of that documentation is devoted to helping the new imm: building and procedure guidelines, information about features in the world in the form of Who Is/What is pages and histories of the major clans and noble houses, tutorials for creating objects, NPCs, rooms, and documents. When a new immortal appears, I point them towards specific documents (the immortal discussion board, the guidelines for new staff members, the staff contract, and the mission statement) that I prefer that they read before logging on for the first time.

My feeling as far as new immortals go is that acclimating is much, much easier if they have some definite things they’re supposed to be doing. These should not be overly daunting. Running a clan, for example, requires a lot of organization and coming up to speed, so something smaller, such as helping with one aspect of a clan, or writing NPCs for it, may be a much better initial project.

Additional projects might include: asking them to come up with two or three mini plotlines to run, right off the bat; asking them to work with a plotline already in progress, which has already been planned and sketched out by someone who needs assistance running it; working with npcs in a particular area in order to get a feel for it; filling in gaps in the documentation. Generally, I try not to make these projects building an area, unless it’s a very small project that fits inside another one, like a couple of houses or an oasis.

Giving new staff feedback on what they’re doing is important, but during the initial stage this is not so crucial as is making sure they have resources and teachers who can help them get up to speed on things as painlessly and quickly as possible. Towards this end, make sure they know the rest of the team — I post on the immortal board to let people know who’s coming on board and what they’ll be working on. It’s good if the new staff member posts an introduction themself, with information like what they’re interested in working on, what their areas of expertise are, how they started playing the game, experience with past MUDs, and so on.

It’s also important that new staff know what’s expected of them, in terms of work and conduct. Documentation can help enormously here, but again, it’s having people that can explain things that is the most valuable resource.

In short:

• choose new staff carefully
• make sure new staff members have access to the information and resources they need
• work with them on coming up with clear, measurable tasks so they know what you’re expecting from them