Last night we played Polaris for the second time.  If our game sessions were musical pieces, last night would have been a Queen power anthem, with the bass undulating like living thunder and flashing pyrotechnics blinding the audience with polychromatic splendour.

Our first session would have been a petrified little kid at a piano recital tapping out a stumbling rendition of "Chopsticks". 

Now that's evolution!

Okay, so perhaps I wax hyperbolic.  But we definitely found our rhythm this time.

We played four scenes, one Heart scene for each protagonist.  It worked out that way not because of any disdain for Mistaken scenes--a number of which occurred in our first session--but rather because we all wanted to get into the action, on our own terms, of the particular part of the story we were telling.  This could be an interesting, recurrent feature of play in our group: we eagerly wanted to be where the action was, so weren't content to let our adversaries take the reins.

My personal revelation for this game session was in the utility and necessity of the Moons.  While I think the text adequately describes the role of the Moons, I don't think we truly conceptualized the importance of their contributions until after this very successful session.  Our Moons were vital.  Where they contributed as much as the Heart and the Mistaken, our scenes sang.  Where they were relatively silent, our scenes stumbled. 

I think part of the realization of the impact of the Moons came about because we were jettisoning the notion that they "only" play NPCs.  Okay, frankly, I won't attribute this notion to any of the other players (though perhaps they thought the same, and I'd love to hear from them); this was my problem in our first session.  I simply wasn't as committed to bringing Moon characters to life in the same depth as Hearts or Mistaken.  I thought they were stage props for the principals.  But in this session I realized that the game mechanics wouldn't steer us into unwelcome territory:  if the Moons got too lippy, the Mistaken and the Heart used their power to temper them.  And so I--and the other Moons--sprayed all sorts of juicy story bits all over the place, gleefully making a mess with the understanding that we weren't really going to hurt anything.

This zeal for contribution extended past NPCs, though.  We Moons provided a near-ceaseless litany of commentary, advice, and suggestions, all of which became vital to moving scenes along.  We were suggesting things in and out of conflict for Heart and Mistaken alike.  Now, admittedly, trials and tribulations make for interesting story, so if we targeted our suggestions toward the Mistaken a little more often than to the Heart, I hope we can be excused for our enthusiasm.

We also liked to escalate conflicts.  As an example, at one point I lobbied hard for the Mistaken to use "And furthermore..." instead of "But only if...", to give the harder mechanical hit to negotiations.  I almost convinced him, too...

So in summary, for our group the Moons were absolutely critical in helping to keep the energy levels high.

It was interesting to see the different strategies we applied to conflict.  I for one had a fairly aggressive dice-flinging strategy.  From a statistical standpoint it wasn't particularly sound, as I was (at the beginning of the night, at least) a low Ice/Light Heart calling for rolls.  Basically, I was the only one employing "It shall not come to pass" with any regularity; not surprisingly, I ended the night with the lowest Zeal.  But I approached rolls with the same zeal that I approached rolls in Dogs in the Vineyard: they're always bound to complicate your life in interesting ways.

And speaking of complication, my wife tried an interesting strategy: at one point, she manipulated her Heart into launching a conflict not by making a grandiose statement to oppose, but by using  "But it was no matter" against a Moon's interesting suggestion.  It worked like a charm:  her Mistaken took the bait and took the Moon's position, and that position was thus amplified by all the ensuing negotiation. 

And what a negotiation!  If the standard conflict strategy of my adversary and I could be likened to a tense hostage exchange, then my wife and her counterpart were undertaking a United Nations Security Counsel debate.  Their "But Only If..."s and "And Furthermore..."s stretched into the distant horizon, mostly because they were getting such a kick out of complicating the lives of their own Hearts.  Perhaps not precisely in the spirit of Heart guidance, but deliciously fun.

Before I wrap up here, I'd like to make a quick observation about scenes.  The book suggests that rotating around the table is highly recommended; I'd point out one dramatic reason why that is, at least as our group experienced it.  Simply, playing the Heart/Mistaken relationship can get incredibly intense.  While there was never anything socially problematic with that interaction–no frayed tempers or irritation or the like–the adversarial energy was an emotionally powerful presence.  For me, it was always a welcome relief to "turn off" that relationship and take up the mantle of the collaborative Moons. The creative tension between us evaporated, and just like that we were happily working together to complicate the lives of the other two players.

To sum up my thoughts about all this:  Ben, you've created a powerful force here.  Thank you!

Moments Frozen from the Flow of Time

Behold...

THE ICE FIELD buckles and tears, a silver shower of frozen crystals piercing the chill air as a massive frozen behemoth erupts from below.  It is all glinting, shining sharp edges, a primal notion given form and ferocity, and it lashes out in deadly violence, hewing through the ranks of the misshapen Mistaken...

THE HALLOWED KEEPER cleaves through the ever-closing ring of demons with untiring vitality, struggling to reach the side of her embattled and bitter rival, to rescue him from crushing maws and slashing talons...

THE NOBLE GENERAL takes in the scene with a critical eye, noting the spreading pool of blood and the slumped body of the Senator-Magistrate, and without hesitation motions his faithful Dragoons to his side and begins cutting a swath out through the Remnant's guard...

THE SHADOWS BETRAY him, but he meets the ambush with the naked blade of the Starlight Sword, rending his masked attacker.  He is a moment too long in the doing, though, and the man he would call lover is dragged away, his form melting into darkness...

- Kit

It worked like a charm:  her Mistaken took the bait and took the Moon's position, and that position was thus amplified by all the ensuing negotiation

I have nothing I can say but: Awesome!

I want to make this post required reading for Polaris players.

Also, as a note, this "hitting our stride in session 2" thing seems really common with Polaris.

Awesome!

yrs--
--Ben

Ben wrote:
this "hitting our stride in session 2" thing seems really common with Polaris.

Sydney wrote:
Ah. Since when I finally muster three other people to play this (my regular group's exactly and consistently three), I want to instantly gratify with maximum hallucinatory chivalric tragic goodness without waiting, are there play tips to bear in mind?

From this thread, "the Moons should gleefully stir up trouble" seems one non-obvious good idea, but there must be others.

Ben wrote:
this "hitting our stride in session 2" thing seems really common with Polaris.

Sydney wrote:
Ah. Since when I finally muster three other people to play this (my regular group's exactly and consistently three), I want to instantly gratify with maximum hallucinatory chivalric tragic goodness without waiting, are there play tips to bear in mind?

From this thread, "the Moons should gleefully stir up trouble" seems one non-obvious good idea, but there must be others.