So, I've been slowly going through games published last year. One of the crop was Shock: Social Science Fiction, which has found great response from a selective clientele, my teenage crowd in Upper Savo included. Which is strange, as they're the typical illiterate teenagers whose closest encounter with classical scifi is Battlestar Galactica. But anyway, while playing Shock: in January, the discussion drifted to other science fiction games, and eventually to Bliss Stage, the game in development by Ben Lehman. A couple of the youngsters got all hot and bothered by the idea of a NGE-like roleplaying game, and they've been bugging me about it ever since.

One thing leads to another, so I ended up requesting Ben for the latest draft of the rules to see whether the game happened to be in a playable state. (Ben's development schedule had coincided with my own projects all through 2006 enough for me to lose contact with the project.) This being indeed the case, I proceeded to study the rules with the intent of playing the game with the teens at a night gathering they had at the end of the winter vacation. This was yesterday, and here follows my experiences and notes from the game. The rules seem to be well on their way to being publishable, so really, for the most part it worked rather well.

Set-up:

Me and three other males, all pretty experienced with indie games. Ages between 17 and 19, I understand. One had brought Polaris and MLwM to the session with the idea of playing one of them, for instance. I'd played extensively with two of the three previously, and had some good discussion with the third, so we were rather comfortable with each other. One of the teens I'd describe as otaku, with extensive interest in all things anime. One was pretty unfamiliar with the genre Bliss Stage references, as well, so we had a pretty wide range in that regard. We began play after a couple of short boardgames left a lull moment in the action, drafting the group out of a larger set, the rest of which continued with the boardgames (actually moving on to Mexican Standoff after a bit, I understand).

Bliss Stage has a definite situation set-up that precedes any group customization, so I started by explaining that. Before the game I'd shown the prospective players some material from the game and explained conscisely what it was about, so the basic gist was familiar: we'd be playing heroic teenage pilots of giant robots fighting against an alien invasion, bolstered by the loves and loyalties of life among a desperate guerrilla band.

Now, a bit I've learned from playing games like Dogs in the Vineyard, Polaris and Nine Worlds is that if your game has an elaborate setting, that's something you shouldn't just take for granted, you need to give some real tools for the necessary exposition phase where one player is giving the run-down for others, so we can get to playing. I'm never going to create one of these without very explicit instructions in this regard, such is the bother of trying to get a game going when we could be playing something that doesn't require that exposition in the first place. Bliss Stage didn't seem to have anything special in mind here, so I chose to start by simply reading aloud the timeline: at this moment, on the evening of 9th of March 2007, the Bliss Stage hits Earth, felling nearly all adult humans. A year later, and the infrastructure has fallen apart... and so on, until at year seven, a small band of guerrilla fighters - led by an authority figure who managed to fell an invasion drone - has scavenged the necessary technology for sending individual pilots into the dreamworld where they are able to project ANIMa, powerful machines that are capable of fighting the elusive and incomprehensible foe.

This exposition-via-timeline seemed to get the basic setting across in a reasonably short time, so we were ready to go in that regard. However, we also needed to do some setting definition before beginning chargen: where is the resistance, what do the aliens look like, how does the ANIMa technology work and so on. As the book recommends playing in a familiar setting, we opted for setting the game in the Iisalmi area of Upper Savo, an agricultural zone dotted with small towns of couple thousand residents, centering on the city of Iisalmi which itself clocks in at around 22 000 people, and that's counting the surrounding farmlands up to 20 clicks to all directions. So not exactly metropolitan area.

A point was made about the effects of winter on the blissed out adults. We acknowledged the fact that Ben might not realize that pretty much everybody would die of cold during the first few weeks instead of lingering on like they might do in a more temperate environment. We ended up deciding that while several hundred might have been dragged into centralized locations like hospitals by the children, the great majority of Finns would have died outright when heating shut down, need for food or not. The other option would have been to presume that the Bliss protects from cold and wild animals like it does from need of food, but that didn't suit the aesthetic, it seems.

The rest of the defining ideas were pretty much derived from the necessity of molding the game concept to fit the realities of life here in the boonies: the resistance would base its operations on a set of trucks, which would retain some maneuverability in the thick forestry road network of the area and reduce the necessity of defensive fortifications to practically nothing. Power supply in Upper Savo after the crash would be based on the plentiful wood supply (and rudimentary wood gasifiers, to the extent that motive power or electricity would be needed). There would be no statists in the group, the rules-mandated twelve people would be more than enough trouble to feed and keep comfortable. The ANIMa technology would be actual technology, represented by scavenged medical sensors suites and Beowulf clusters of the plentiful home computer hardware left around after the crash. "Brain-wave frequency modulation" was the technobabble of the day, used to justify the premise.

The unlikeliness of military scifi set in our home environs out of the way, we moved to specifying the guerrilla group. The leader would have to be an adult authority figure who's kept himself awake forcibly through the seven years of darkness, so he couldn't be any old bum. We settled - with a good amount of irony - on the nigh-legendary Upper Savo statesman, parliamentary member since 1987, Doctor in Social Sciences and minister of defense Seppo Kääriäinen. This is funny in the context, because Seppo is both familiar and revered for the people of the area, a member of the locally dominating Centre Party (aka Agrarian League) and very current right now, as we're having parliamentary elections. The choice proved pretty central to the character of the story, and eerily suitable as well.

Anyway, we figured that because Seppo had been doing election work around here lately, he would probably be caught by Bliss Stage in the middle of Upper Savo. Which he of course wouldn't leave even as infrastructure started to fray, the wellfare of the region being central to his ambitions. Instead, he'd base himself in a cabin out of the way of the rowing gangs of teenagers, starting to prepare for the eventual return of sanity. Obviously the homely and unassuming resistance leader wouldn't keep himself awake with meditation, drugs or entertainment (some examples from the book); rather, he'd immerse in logging and weary construction work whenever sleep threatened to take him. Consequently, our Seppo in 2014 would be a nigh-cripple from the constant self-caused accidents with the axe. A very grim character, straining credubility. Which was kinda proper, as that let all the other fantastic propositions of the game's premise in with nary a complaint.

After creating the authority figure we moved on to the pilots: this was a very sketchy phase, with not too much detail to begin with. Our pilots were a veteran called Niko, a desperate lover called Reino and an eager young soldier called Joonas. Nothing particularly significant was created in terms of personal history, largely because the rules didn't encourage such. The players were enthusiastic and skillful, so they started creating relationships without any encouragement; I also emphasized the significance of blood relationships to statistics, which led to Niko and Joonas being siblings.

I also created three anchors: the tempestuous Heidi, caring Johanna and stable Anna. The guys quickly determined that Anna would be a sister for the two sibling pilots, while Johanna would be Reino's sister. We also divided the anchors to players without much trouble.

The rules call for five extra secondary characters, which was easy: a player immediately suggested a secondary pilot, which was shot down by the rules (only PC pilots), so we upped the ante with Juulia, a girl who tags along and wants to be a pilot, but is stymied by Seppo, who apparently has a thing for keeping the girls away from combat (as is evidenced by the fact that all three pilot characters are boys). At this point it also became evident that we'd need more "adult" characters to get our preferred social mix, so we stretched the implications of the setting a bit and decided that anybody who was under 18 years old seven years ago could conseivably still be kicking, albeit in the grip of constant nightmares. This gave us some leeway (up to 25 years of age, in fact), which was used to create Heikki Petäjä and Pikkarainen, a hunter/scout and a mechanic, both rather useful for the everyday operations of the guerrillas. Somebody suggested at that point that we'd also want to have an overly traumatized child along for sympathy points, so that was Mari, age 10. That left us with one slot, which was filled by the elder sister of Heikki Petäjä, Jenni, age 25, who proved rather central to the plot: it was she who figured out the ANIMa technology (with support from weird dreams and freshman studies at the university of Kuopio) and brought it to Seppo Kääriäinen to be put to use. The last addition pretty much satisfied us that the group was reasonably functional for what it was supposed to be doing.

The relationship scores required by the rules were assigned on the fly by the players as we created the secondary characters, with some consolidation and switching around at the end. The particularly pertinent points in the fiction generated by the process were:

• Everybody had very high trust for Seppo Kääriäinen, appropriately enough.
• All characters had a very high intimacy with Heidi the anchor, with scores of 4, 5 and 5. The exact implications of this were left for later, but the significance was noted.

In other words, the relationship allocation process didn't create very much notable fictional content, although the priorization process itself was interesting, and it seemed to me that the players were forming some initial impressions of the secondary characters, even if most of those were not clear enough to get verbalized or noted upon. Perhaps it was simple information overload, as we created so many characters all at once.

And what was the group supposed to be doing? The next step was to set up two (number of pilots minus one) Hopes, which would be the concern of the missions set for the guerrilla group, to be resolved at the end of the game. We dropped a couple of initial ideas and settled on "May the young be saved from the Bliss" and "What are the aliens?". In other words, not so much all-out aggression, but more like information war.

The set-up phase all told took slightly below a couple of hours, I think. It was considered an interesting and satisfying endeavour in itself by the group, being that the end-result was a concrete and suitably framed piece of fictional organization. Had I had the choice I'd have left the actual play to another session, but as we were in effectively convention environment, there'd be no guarantees of a second session; therefore we continued, as I narrate in the next post...

Note 1: The rules don't mention starting Bliss, but I seemed to remember from some previous version that it would be equal to starting age, so that's what we used. Doesn't matter that much for a single session of play.

Mission:

When I asked about it, Ben recommended starting the actual game with a mission briefing, so that's what I did. Seppo had set camp on top of the Kulju Hill east of the town of Sonkajärvi, which implied an operation to that direction. (We had earlier specified that the ANIMa trucks would have disk antennas used to project the consiciousness of the pilots on the radio waves; the implication is that the best military position would be a high point accessible by car, thus increasing the range of operation to all directions.) After a couple of days on position Heikki Petäjä (who was depicted as keeping himself at arm's length from Seppo's crazy plans, but hovering nearby to take care of his sister should she get in trouble) returned to the group with news, which started the briefing scene.

According to Heikki, one of the black spider-like drones had come to the town of Sonkajärvi on an occasional rampage, as they've been doing for several years. Sonkajärvi is one of the prime points of rebuilding for the decimated society of Upper Savo, as there is more than enough farmable - and more importantly, grazeable - land in the immediate vicinity of the built downtown, with complete industrial agricultural equipment at hand. Consequently it's not that surprising that a spider-drone would have finally noticed the place, threatening to destroy the efforts. However, this drone was acting in a peculiar manner: instead of walking over buildings and seeking victims, it just stood vacantly near the church. It had not moved for three days, according to the fearful locals.

Seppo thought that this was a prime opportunity to begin the guerrilla war he had been preparing the teenagers for during the last year. We determined at this point that while all teens had had some practice with the equipment on practice runs, only Niko with his one Trauma had actually faced combat; this was almost instantly developed into Seppo being still apologetic about sending Niko into the fight before training any backup half a year earlier, and ultimately to Niko being quite suspicious of Jenni Petäjä, who'd acted as the anchor for this unspoken "first mission".

I played Seppo as quite subdued in his leadership, mainly because I couldn't imagine him taking a militaristic stand on the endeavour, even while the children were keen to play soldiers. Seppo asked the pilots to comment on the objectives and priorities of the mission if they felt like it, while also telling them that he wouldn't require anybody to go if they didn't feel ready for it. The objectives were as follows:

• Navigate your way to Sonkajärvi in the dream world.
• Destroy the drone by surprise.
• Bring back any evidence, if possible.
• Protect the locals from coming to harm.

Seppo said that he was quite willing to compromise on the objectives depending on how many volunteers he'd get. As all pilots volunteered to go, I decided to keep all objectives. As can be seen, Seppo has only a vague understanding of what the dream world is, so he's thinking of it in real world terms. We as players didn't have any sense at this point for whether the last three, or even any, of the defined objectives would be entirely relevant in the dream world context.

Note 1: the book doesn't comment on how to begin the game. As can be seen, I opted for a longish shared mission with all pilots on the premise of not advancing any one pilot over the others on the very first mission. This was a mistake, as will be seen; it would have been much, much better to keep the first mission short and definitely with only one pilot. Hopefully the final product will address this.

Note 2: the formal character ownership rules were ignored, I fear. I just now noticed that Heikki Petäjä, which I depicted as the grim ranger type, actually wasn't even my character to play. (Of course, with all pilots in the scene, each player would have had to loan their characters to me anyway. But we never even acknowledged the fact at the time.)

Anyway, going on into the mission scene, we started to stumble a bit: the characters got to choose their own anchors, which we managed to do after determining that we'd have to do a cycle to avoid having anybody play their own anchor. (Is that allowed, anyway?) Then we did sequential dream sequences with ANIMa formations, which allowed each player to say a couple of sentences for their anchors and pilots both.

However, it proved that not only is it insanely hard to do any real character depiction for two characters at once (plenty of reason to avoid a full-complement mission as a first try when all characters are still pretty thin), but we also had rather disparate visions for the dream world. I avoided taking sides about the exact nature of the dream world, as the rules instruct that the anchor makes the call and describes the dream world to the pilot. However, I did faciliate the discussion when the players were in disagreement about whether the dream could begin directly at Sonkajärvi (as in, having the pilot beamed directly via the parabolic antenna I described earlier), or whether it would begin at the Kulju Hill, with the necessity of travelling the distance in the dream world.

A bit of practice brought us into some kind of concensus on the dream world, but it would all have been much easier if we had just one full-time anchor in the mix, instead of three who were also playing pilots at the same time. In practice the players mostly avoided any elaborate description of the dream world after establishing some key facets, so as not to step on each other's toes. We also determined that one can't speak in the dream world so as to keep the anchors in the loop; the pilots could only converse with one another via the anchor personages.

Also, a weird turn of events was experienced when manifesting ANIMa battle armor. The way I explained it to players, each activated relationship of the character would correspond to an item of utility in battle, with the anchor relationship being represented by the actual armor. The characters in-game had only the most basic understanding of the process, thinking that the strength of the manifestation would be a factor of will-power and skill; however, they did know from Jenni's research that any extented stay in the dream dimension would prove fatal without protective armor.

So armed with this knowledge, the players described the armors their pilots manifested: the first one opted for a black, medieval-style mecha some six meters high, armed with sword and a motorcycle (!) for getting around. And that was the guy who's actually enthusiastic about mecha anime. The other two went for a four-meter high bondage representation of himself with lots of spiky armor, and a military uniform (yeah, not armor, uniform) + tank. In other words, the players decided to pretty much bypass the giant robot meme. Being that these seemed like earnest contributions, I had nothing to criticize.

After getting that out of the way we started the die-rolling necessary to succeed in missions. The obvious starting point was finding their way to Sonkajärvi in the first place. This part of the rules worked generally as you'd expect, with the players putting much effort into resolving objectives, avoiding Bliss and protecting their relationships, in that order. Most of the scene-setting devolved to me by the virtue of the above-mentioned dissolution of anchor authority, so I didn't hesitate with injecting colorful nightmare problems whenever anything but a '+' was placed in the nightmare category.

To describe the high points of the mission conscisely:

• You couldn't just wish yourself around the dream world; the motorcycle got stuck in the terrain when a short-cut was tried, which razzled the characters who didn't even realize that something so mundane could be a problem. Seppo of course had a map of the route via roads, which one of the anchors could relay to the pilots.
• In Sonkajärvi, it was established that the blissed out adults apparently lived in the dream world. However, they were a fearful lot, with Greek tragedy masks permanently affixed to their faces. While seemingly happy in the real world, here they were in constant agony.
• The reason for the sadness soon became apparent: the drone in the middle of town was not just standing iddle, it was feeding on the scurrying population of dreamers, picking them daintily with long dream tentacles from all over town. These two player-initiated facts settled much of the tone of the meeting between the aliens and the humans...
• Niko, the most experienced of the bunch, went totally solo and started rescuing the blissed souls into his tank. The futility was derided by his sister Anna, who acted as his anchor. Niko managed to take two of the souls with him in withdrawal, leaving the other pilots to face the drone.
• Reino made short work of the drone itself with one solid blow of his dream-hammer, shattering one of the spindly legs that kept the creature afloat; however, he was stuck under the falling main body, leaving Joonas to liberate him.
• Meanwhile Niko was surprised by the vicious nature of the souls he took with him on the trip back to base; they did not communicate nor sit calmly in his tank; rather, they came at him and started bashing him with their solid masks, making a wet thudding sound. This being the only sound in the dream thus far, pretty scary. This caused Niko to drive his tank out of the road, stranding him.
• Niko did, however, manage to subdue the two souls forcibly, dragging them back to base on foot over the dreamscape.
• Johanna, who anchored Reino, decided to pull the plug on his mission, leaving Joonas alone to defeat the yellow mat of tentacles that crawled out of the drone and threatened to grow to cover the whole dreamscape. Joonas managed it, but only barely, getting his black armor demolished in the process. He also took some yellow stuff to his bike's saddlepacks for further investigation, returning to base safely.

Mechanically, there were some relationship disconnects, and Joonas suffered as high as three points of Trauma before the end. He also broke his anchor connection to Heidi in his last roll. Niko also broke a relationship with somebody, I think; overall these were not considered that serious losses at this point, as the relationships themselves were just numbers on paper. Joonas had Bliss 23 at the end of the mission from his broken relationship, Niko 25 from some dice and a broken relationship, while Reino had just 17, the amount he began the game with.

Note 1: the dramatic flow from relationship damage suffered on mission to actual events in the real world related to those relationships is not touched upon in the rules text in any way. This would have been a major question mark for us, had we had time for doing a scene between Joonas and Heidi, whose relationship was at 5 intimacy (implying sexuality) before being broken. What would the loss mean? After thinking about this a bit, I've come to the conclusion that any changes in relationships caused by missions should be inexplainable and scary in the fiction as well: a character whose relationship you break on mission just simply doesn't remember you, or hates you, for some reason nobody else can understand, but everybody knows is because of the psychic presence of the aliens. So nobody can particularly help you two, and even explaining what happened to the person who was damaged in this manner doesn't bring the relationship back; he or she can't help not remembering you, after all. So yeah, partial amnesia and alien-implant memories is my solution, clumsy though it may be: what says the author, and what will the game say to instruct on this?

Note 2: Put in some instructions for the first mission, or even a ready-to-play mission. I thought I was acting reasonably, but in hindsight we'd have had much more coherent play and specifically, much more definite content if we did three separate missions instead of playing all at once. Also, should consider some anchor precedence rules for combined missions, perhaps: you could simply say that any pilots on the same mission have to be anchored by the same anchor, therefore removing the fiddliness of having two players present with near-equal moment-to-moment scene framing privileges.

Note 3: As I think I intimated in some email discussion, it's not a given that the game would be played as a mecha game at all with these rules. Perhaps this is fine, or perhaps there should be some clear setting exposition about the nature of the ANIMa technology, about how it specifically creates giant robots, not just anything. Depends on the style you're going for, I guess.

Interludes:

The first interlude after the mission happened immediately when Niko came out of it: Seppo came and forcibly dragged Niko and his anchor Anna, his sister, to the Kulju cabin he used as temporary office. Seppo demanded an explanation from the two for what they were doing out there: while Anna had at first tried to talk her brother out of hot-shotting, she had come around and supported his bid at awakening the two anonymous adults. I judged that whether moving or manipulating the spirit forms of the blissed out adults would have any effect in the real world would be my call as the GM, so I left that uncertain at this point; the characters would have to go to Sonkajärvi and see if anything they did in the dream would have a concrete effect in the real world.

Anyway, despite Seppo demanding explanations and trying to explain to the wayward youth the importance of being rational in the face of the enemy, Anna stood steadfast by her brother and defended his right to make his own calls on the field. Seppo finally sent the two out when his headache started going worse and when Jenni came to report that the other two pilots had gotten out alive. We agreed that the scene could have been Trust building between the siblings, but as they had Stress, that wasn't possible. At the end we concluded that it wasn't anything else, really, so no numbers needed to be changed. (Strangely enough, now that I look at the character sheets, Niko seems to have 2 Stress towards Seppo. I wonder why the player didn't mention that, as the scene was pretty obvious as a Stress release between Seppo and Niko...)

The first interlude featured a trust break, as Seppo felt that Niko had dashed the expectations he had set out for the youngster who was also his most experienced pilot in this war the old politician couldn't really grasp technology-wise. Consequently, a follow-up: Anna went to Jenni (same player, tossed temporarily to another), to help with dismantling the equipment in anticipation of moving away from the hill before enemy retaliation. She wanted to know what Jenni thought about her brother's decision, whether he'd been wrong or not. Jenni's critique was the opposite of Seppo's: while the latter had berated the teenager for hasty conclusions and not using his senses, Jenni thought that it was of utmost importance to follow the orders, for how else could they hope to win the war? The scene was a humanization one, obviously enough.

Next, Reino had an immediate post-combat interlude with his sister Johanna, as he dragged her out of the mission truck and into the woods to berate her for aborting the mission and leaving Joonas into who-knows-what-danger out of misplaced protectiveness towards her brother. Reino got rather dramatic about it, saying that he didn't need his sister to look after him, and left Johanna crying at the end. The Stress release was rather obvious, but more suprising was that neither called for Trust decrease; the players agreed that this was an ongoing problem between them, and nothing either couldn't expect.

The fourth interlude was for Joonas later in the evening, when Juulia (the bratty boy-girl who wants to be a pilot) brought him food from the field kitchen and complimented his bravery (again, same player, character loaned to another); everybody could hear Heidi screaming during his lone battle with the yellow tentacle goo, which broke his ANIMa to pieces. Interestingly enough, Joonas went all gothic in the whiny bad-anime sense, berating the girl for having misconceptions about bravery, when the truth was that nothing matters, and they all would be dead soon enough when they hit 18 and the Bliss took them. Juulia tried to cheer him up, but as Joonas brushed her off, she went off in a sad mood. Obvious Trust loss, but also a Trauma reduction for the thoroughly tressed Joonas.

As immediate follow-up for the above, Seppo, who saw what happened, came to talk it out with Joonas. Joonas tried the same lines on him, too, but Seppo, a conscripted captain of the now non-existent Finnish Defense Force, would hear none of it: the child had no conception of the difficulties that might yet to come, but neither did he realize that the war might well be won next week, tomorrow, or even today. Who knew if this drone might, actually, have been the only one? Had Joonas ever seen more than one at a time? No? Then how was he to judge how close they were to defeat? For all he knew, Niko's foolish soloing earlier in the day might have lifted the whole #!"* Bliss already. And besides, Joonas still had what, three years to go before hitting 18? Three years in the past they were still hiding in the woods and banking the cooking fires in fear of the enemy, and now they actually had weapons to fight with (not that Seppo understood any of it, mind you). Three years from now they might well be spearheading the defense of the whole Eurasian continental disk, for all they knew. So getting depressed would seem, from Seppo's point of view, a bit early.

So yeah, Trauma relief without trust loss. Seppo is apparently a pretty cool guy, should probably vote him. After this scene we were almost going into the next one, but I realized that sleepiness was taking the kids, who are not naturally nocturnal, and I was in the mood for something lighter myself as well, so we agreed to break it up and continue with some light boardgames, instead. I didn't make any agreements about continuing the game later, but actually, writing about it now, it was kinda interesting. I think I'll call the guys and see if we could get a date for another session, I'm a bit curious about seeing how the crew lead by my father's favourite political figure would survive when the enemy strikes back. I went as far as telling him the high points of the Seppo's career in otaku fiction when I got home in the morning; apparently we have a similarly twisted sense of humour, as he seemed to appreciate it.

Note 1: players tend to call for scenes with their own characters pretty often, at least at the beginning. Might be simply because they are the characters they have most familiarity with at the first stages of getting to know the cast. I suggest a simple improvement: only assing the ownership of a given secondary character when she has her first scene, at which point you can assign it to whoever plays her in that scene. This prevents a player from grabbing the characters that interest him most to himself, ending up in a situation where his easiest drama possibilities are between his own characters. Also, with 12+ characters it actually might take one long into the second session before all characters are even featured on-screen, so it makes sense not to fix such an important thing before it needs to be.

Note 2: despite writing vehemently against any limitation of interlude scenes before the game, I was kinda getting to wonder how I'd know when to put in another briefing, there in the end. My solution would probably have been to exhaust the immediate impulses caused by the mission, which would have included perhaps another scene or two about the mission itself, and perhaps another scene set at Sonkajärvi in the morning, where the group or part of it would have gone to see if their endeavours in the dream world actually, you know, destroyed the drone in the real world. Meanwhile I'd have asked the players for any significant new developments in the relationship grid, and if they had no immediate ideas for something that would happen in the next couple of days, then I'd have called a briefing. So perhaps we'd have had the four scenes above, plus 3-4 scenes more before the next briefing. Too much or too little? No idea.

Pondering:

So yeah, that's my Bliss Stage experience. At the time it felt confusing at times, but in hindsight it went pretty well, with the players giving two thumbs up for the idea of Ben publishing this one and coming to visit us on the occasion to present it here in person. (A not-so-subtle hint, that.) Meanwhile, some more general comments and thoughts inspired by play:

The dream metaphor: I specifically asked the players after the mission but before the interludes what they thought about the whole dream thing with slightly chaotic and unexpected surroundings. The question was very specifically because I myself felt that it deducts a bit from the whole mecha experience; the parts I like best about NGE, for example, are the ones that emphasize the scale and human effort that goes into building the things. The dream level makes all this rather arbitrary. And now that I think about it, my own mecha game Age of the Warlords (development age equal to Bliss Stage: completion percentage magnitudes lower; it's obvious which one of me and Ben can design) is exactly about the industro-social side of the whole mecha idea, so perhaps I shouldn't be bitching about it here. Especially as all the players gave their approval to the concept, which makes the setting distinctive among mecha stories. Still, there was confusion with the whole idea of what the dream zone is and how it affects the real world and all such vague and murky tugging from different players that wouldn't get in the way if the setting was kept more conventional and easy to grasp. The otaku player I mention above agreed to this sentiment to a degree, and we discussed playing the game with real mecha instead of flies of fancy; at least he thought that removing the dream zone wouldn't break anything in the rules, as mecha pilots in a dramatic anime are dependant on their relationships for their will and calmness in the middle of the fight anyway.

Hmm... actually, my thoughts are starting wandering after writing the long session description. I think I'll come back to this later. Perhaps some pertinent questions to jog my thoughts into gear? I thought I had something to say about the design itself as well. No idea if it was useful, though.

Eero -- Thanks so much for posting this!

I have questions.

1) How did the Reino end up with no bliss gain from the mission?  Did he just not ever have a roll?  Did he get insanely lucky and roll no (-) results?  Did he opt to place his (-) results into active categories to avoid Bliss gain?

2) You seem definitely mixed about your experience (I can think of a few reasons, but we'll get to those in a second.)  What made it seem bad at the time and what makes it seem better in hindsight?

3) I'm totally fascinated that you ended up with a sympathetic Authority Figure, given that I set up the game to make them pretty despicable human beings.  Was this an intentional move on your part, was it from the whole group, or was it just emergent from play?  Can you talk a little bit more about it in general?

Okay, here's some rules stuffs, not a big deal, but for next time:

1) Every interlude scene has a mechanical result.  "No result" is simply not an option.

2) When I play the game, I totally talk about the pre-existing relationships while the pilots assign their starting relationships.  The intimacy and trust numbers, particularly the intimacy numbers, are cues for the present state of the relationship.  Apparently that didn't come across in the text as-is.  I'll make a point of mentioning it.

3) I've got some color bits about the setting if you want to use them next time.  It includes, as it happens (I wrote it before I read this) the idea that the dream world bubbles over into the physical world from time-to-time, answering your dream complaints.  The intent in the text (and I know this isn't clear) is that the dreamworld is just as real and concrete as our world -- it just obeys a different and stranger set of laws.  Your ANIMa aren't from your imagination, they're physical things assembled in a physical world from your very real non-physical emotional bonds.

This is, as it turns out, pretty damned important to the metaphor.  If it was a game about the power of imagination instead of the power of love, I would have written the ANIMa rules very differently.

yrs--
--Ben

Ben wrote:
1) How did the Reino end up with no bliss gain from the mission?  Did he just not ever have a roll?  Did he get insanely lucky and roll no (-) results?  Did he opt to place his (-) results into active categories to avoid Bliss gain?

2) You seem definitely mixed about your experience (I can think of a few reasons, but we'll get to those in a second.)  What made it seem bad at the time and what makes it seem better in hindsight?

3) I'm totally fascinated that you ended up with a sympathetic Authority Figure, given that I set up the game to make them pretty despicable human beings.  Was this an intentional move on your part, was it from the whole group, or was it just emergent from play?  Can you talk a little bit more about it in general?

1) Every interlude scene has a mechanical result.  "No result" is simply not an option.

2) When I play the game, I totally talk about the pre-existing relationships while the pilots assign their starting relationships.  The intimacy and trust numbers, particularly the intimacy numbers, are cues for the present state of the relationship.  Apparently that didn't come across in the text as-is.  I'll make a point of mentioning it.

3) I've got some color bits about the setting if you want to use them next time.  It includes, as it happens (I wrote it before I read this) the idea that the dream world bubbles over into the physical world from time-to-time, answering your dream complaints.  The intent in the text (and I know this isn't clear) is that the dreamworld is just as real and concrete as our world -- it just obeys a different and stranger set of laws.  Your ANIMa aren't from your imagination, they're physical things assembled in a physical world from your very real non-physical emotional bonds.

Hmm... My authority figures have been sometimes abusive, bad bosses, unable to take responsibility for their own failures, often drug addicts, threaten violence but can't carry through, and mostly concerned with their own survival.  I guess I just take a dimmer view of adults than you?

As for the distribution of narration, it's supposed to be rather clear from the text, but it does mean that the GM absolutely has to step back during mission scenes and mostly let the Anchor handle stuff.  I have some difficulty doing this myself, for me it's largely because I want to talk over people but I can't.  I'm pretty convinced it's a solid distribution, though.  I'll be more clear on it.

Making it clear that, as the anchor, you are in some ways a "mini-GM" for the mission scene may help.

With respect to interlude scenes, I find that any scene which develops the relationship in a meaningful way will usually fit into one of the categories, while any scene which does not is often Trauma Relief.  There's no need for extended play.  If you're really having trouble, make a call as a GM (go for Stress Relief or Trauma Relief -- they're the broadest categories) and move on.

As for the "intro mission" idea, I don't know if it's possible.  Part of the hinge of the game is that you have all these relationships available for resources at any time.  However, the idea of having some "primer missions" is a really good one, so I'll give it some thought.  In practice, I have a couple of missions which I usually use as starters.

Try starting the game with one interlude scene for each player, next time.

yrs--
--Ben

Starting interludes, check. Trust or Intimacy building, pretty much.

As for the distribution of narration in missions, I agree that it's pretty clear. It's just a ready-made mess if you end up with the same person playing a pilot and an anchor simultaneously in the first mission. I'll just avoid that the next time, and most of the problem will evaporate. It's still difficult to step back as the GM when the players expect guidance, but far from impossible.