“I wish I could punch cancer right in the fucking face,” said Mark. He slammed his book against the table. “I wish I could rip cancer’s fucking balls off, and knock that fucker to the ground, and fucking curb stomp it and…”
Mark picked up the book, slammed it onto the table again. He paused for one silent moment, his chest heaving, before finally sweeping everything off the table in a rage. He kicked the chair, knocking it to the ground. He dropped to the floor next to it. He put his hands over his face. Then he sobbed, big wracking sobs that left his body trembling. His angry crying bounced off the glass walls of the meeting room, anguish amplified.
Steve, Jordan, Samantha, and Kinsey sat at the table and watched Mark’s breakdown. It was clearly written on each of their faces that none of them knew what to do. Steve broke the spell just enough to glance over at Samantha. Tears rolled down her face. She didn’t seem to notice.
Finally, Jordan was able to seize the moment. He got out of his chair, moved over to Mark. He sat on the floor next to him. He reached out, took Mark in his arms, and held him. Mark wept uncontrollably. His tears quickly stained Jordan’s shirt.
Steve and Kinsey were still paralyzed. Samantha took Jordan’s lead, got up, and sat on the floor with the two of them. As she moved to the floor, she produced a packet of tissues from a pocket of her backpack.
Two librarians were heading quickly to the meeting room. Steve glared at them, his eyes saying “don’t you fucking dare.” They stopped, stood in awkward inaction for a moment, then turned around and walked back to the desk.
Kinsey was next. He too got out of his chair, sat on the floor next to the others. His eyes welled up with tears, but he said nothing. Finally, Steve joined the rest of the group on the floor.
All five of them sat there, staring at the green carpet. For several minutes, the only sound in the room was Mark’s sobbing.
Finally, Samantha said “I’m so, so sorry, Mark.” She immediately hated the stupid inadequacy of her remark.
But Jordan backed her up. “Yeah, me too, man,” he said. “Anything you need, Mark. Anything you need.”
“My aunt,” said Kinsey. His voice was filled with doubt most uncharacteristic of him. “My aunt, she had it, too...cancer, I mean. Breast cancer. She died, like, six years ago. It sucks, man, I know.”
Steve felt woefully inadequate to handle any of this. “Maybe we should just cancel today’s game, guys. Jordan?”
Jordan thought for a moment. He turned himself to face Mark. “Mark,” he said. “If you want to go, that’s totally, completely understandable. And if you need anything, again, man, let us know. But, maybe, you need some distraction right now? Maybe some role-playing could help, you know, get your mind out of this? If you want, of course...whatever you need, man.”
Mark took a deep breath, finally getting himself under control. He nodded. “Yeah, okay. No, you’re right. Let’s play. I need something. Thanks.”
“Okay, good,” said Jordan. He patted Mark on the back, then got off the floor.
* * * * *
That afternoon, the characters continued their exploration of the svenskar tunnels. The debate continued to rage between Kinsey and Steve on whether they should try and get to the tree at the center of the root system or simply continue to travel east in the hopes of getting home. Finally, Steve won out, and the characters emerge from the trunk of the svenskar tree.
“The tree opens out into a massive underground chamber. At the base of the tree is a large pond...really more like a small lake. Beneath the lake is a vast bed of glowing, orange fungi, or maybe coral? Enough to illuminate the entire chamber. The fungi also clings to the roots at the top of the tree, on the ceiling, too.”
“All of you emerge from the trunk and are now standing on a wide root that branches into the water…”
“Wait,” said Kinsey. “I thought we came from the ceiling. Is the tree upside down? Or….”
“The tree spans the entire height of the chamber,” said Jordan. “There are roots at either end of the tree, top and bottom. You guys came in from the ceiling, and are now close to the ground level of the chamber. At the top of the chamber, the roots are wide...wide enough for all of you to walk inside of, obviously...and they shoot in and out of the roof of the chamber. The roots on the bottom, entering the water, are much smaller, though still several meters in diameter.”
“Cool,” said Samantha, under her breath.
“How do we get out of this chamber?” asked Mark. His eyes were blood-shot.
“You don’t see any visible doors or tunnels or anything,” said Jordan. “Looks like you’ll have to go back into the tree. However, you do see some glittering objects along one bank of the lake.”
“Glittering objects?” said Steve. “Like...cyphers?”
“Could be,” said Jordan, grinning. “Several of them...five, at least, maybe more…they’re scattered loosely along a ‘shore’ of the lake, several meters away from you all. You also notice a few humanoid shapes, laying face-down on the shore. Motionless.”
“Does one of the trees roots extend out that way?” asked Samantha.
“No,” said Jordan. “You don’t see any way to get to the shore without going through the water.”
“I jump in—” Mark began.
“No, wait!” said Kinsey. “We don’t know if the water’s safe!”
“Oh. Right,” said Mark. “I’ll wait a moment.”
Jordan smiled. He was about to make a comment about how un-Mark of him that was, to show any kind of restraint. Jumping first and thinking later has been Mark’s character’s reputation this entire game. But Jordan stayed quiet, instead.
“I poke the water with the tip of my spear,” said Steve.
“You emerge the tip of your spear into the water,” said Jordan. “Immediately, you see the tip of your spear begin to smoke and bubble and hiss. You pull the tip of the spear out, but it’s too late; whatever the water is, it melted the end of your spear right off.”
“You shouldn’t have used your weapon, dumb-ass!” said Kinsey.
Steve glared at him.
“So, those cyphers, are they in the water?” said Samantha.
“No,” said Jordan. “They’re on the ‘shore,’ just outside of the water.”
“Those are probably our missing travelers,” said Steve. “Just to confirm our suspicions, I yell out to them, see if, you know, maybe they’re just sleeping.” Everyone gave Steve a dubious look.
“Okay,” said Jordan. “You yell out to them and, sure enough, no response.”
“Well, looks like we’ll need to make a raft,” said Kinsey. “Time to cut some wood off this tree…”
* * * * *
Jordan cleaned up the meeting room that afternoon feeling truly, incredibly accomplished. This was his finest session yet, and just at the right time. To Jordan, there was nothing...nothing...better than pulling off a great adventure when the group really needed one.
And boy, did the group need one, thought Jordan. With Mark’s breakdown about his sister’s cancer, and the bad days at work Steve’s been talking about, the group was ready for a nice, relaxing-but-exciting escape into the Ninth World, and Jordan was able to provide. It was time, he thought. It’s time to go bigger.
When Jordan got home that evening, he immediately got to work on his website. The Northern Virginia Interactive Fiction Club (NoVa IFC) was almost ready to go live. When it did, Jordan’s plan was to gradually recruit more gamemasters and have role-playing games going on every day of the week. At first, the commitment from Jordan would have to be pretty big; until he found the GM’s he needed, he’d have to run the games. And he couldn’t just grab any GM’s; Jordan had plans to establish a standard. A brand. He wanted people to talk about the NoVa IFC as having a certain quality. This wasn’t going to just be a random group of amateur novel writers and anti-social nerds congregating; this was going to be a phenomenon. This was going to be something different and unique, a new way of entertaining in a new age.
Jordan put the final finishing touches on the website, then sent invites to his regular players. The website was ready, and so was the Facebook page for the site, the Google+ page for the site, the Twitter handle for the site, and the blog for the site. For the moment, Jordan put the YouTube, Vine, and Instagram plans on hold. He didn’t know how comfortable members would be with broadcasting themselves across the Internet, so he’d leave that one alone and address it later, when he had a larger following. The podcast, on the other hand, would probably begin in the next week or two. It’d simply start with his own recaps of his Numenera games, but as the club grew, he’d have a rotating panel of his GM’s discussing their games and the finer points of the hobby.
For now, though, it would just be him. He’d need a co-host, though. Anyone but Kinsey, he thought. He noticed Steve was online, and asked him to chat.
Jordan: Hey Steve. Did you like the game today?
Steve: Loved it! Great work! I think it was a great idea to keep playing for Mark. I think it really helped his spirits.
Jordan: Thanks. I did, too. I hope he’s alright.
Steve: He’ll be fine, I think. It’s going to be rough for a couple of weeks, but he’s tough, he’ll move on.
Jordan: Right. So how would you feel about co-hosting a podcast with me about our Numenera game?
Steve: A podcast? Really?
Jordan: Yeah. We’d basically just BS about the game after each session...like, not necessarily immediately after the session, later in the week...but we’d just talk about what went well, what our plans are for the future, that kind of thing.
Steve: Is this to go along with the website you just sent me an invite to?
Jordan: Yep! I’m going big-time, baby! I want this NoVa IFC thing to really take off.
Steve: How are you going to have the time for all of that?
Jordan: I’m not; I’m going to need to recruit some other GMs, get other games going to make it all work.
Steve: You got anyone in mind?
Jordan: Not yet. You interested?
Steve: In GMing? Hell no! I can barely handle playing!
Jordan: lol, you’re doing fine! Nothing to it.
Steve: Maybe. I’d like to play for a few more months though before I even consider running anything.
Jordan: Sure, fair enough. But do you want to do the podcast with me?
Steve: Sure. I’m just not sure what we’re going to say, you know?
Jordan: You can leave the agenda to me. I just need someone to have a back-and-forth with, you know?
Steve: Yeah, true. So what happens when others start signing up? Are you going to bring them into our Numenera game, or are you going to start a second game later in the week, or what?
Jordan: Both, depending on how many people I get. At first, I’ll just add them to our game, but once I have enough people, I’ll split them into a second group and run two games a week.
Steve: Sounds pretty ambitious!
Jordan: Well, it’s what I do, you know? EVERYONE should be playing role-playing games.
Steve: I agree. It’s a lot of fun!
* * * * *
Steve signed off of chat, flopped onto the couch, and watched some TV before bed. Man, Jordan is fucking crazy about this stuff, he thought as he idly channel surfed. He wasn’t sure about this whole “NoVa IFC” thing, though. Role-playing games require a lot of brain power, and he wasn’t sure a lot of people could handle doing this kind of thing on a regular basis. Steve himself was happy to have it in his life, especially considering how boring the rest of his life was, but he couldn’t imagine a father with kids and a full-time job settling into this on a weekly basis. Or a doctor or lawyer or someone who probably just wants to veg out on their downtime. But, hey, best of luck to him, Steve thought. Everyone needs a project.
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