Justin Achilli

Month: April, 2010

22 April 2010

Seeds in the Garden

 As a followup to the entry on building gardens instead of museums, let’s look at a few techniques that allow for flexibility in worldbuilding, player empowerment, and plot construction.

Let the Players Hold a Few Cards


Conan’s world is built on exemplary details rather than dogmatic statements, giving readers and players a chance to fill in the blanks, which invests them with a sense of co-creation.As you present information to your players, let them take a proprietary stake in the world. This is the tabletop setting version of the golden rule of MMO design, “let the players do it,” and in more open-ended video game environments, this solution works as well. (Tangentially, I’ve long wanted a video game in which my reward for exploration is being able to name the region.)

For example, a player might want to have a character origin from a city or location you mention in passing. (This was why you made the mention but left it undetailed, right?) As part of that origin, he mentions a certain lord, manor, or hermit. Even if you’ve got a backstory already worked out for the region the player adopts as a homeland, it’s an easy enough task to work the character’s creation into the mix.

As another example, over the course of play, a player takes a shine to an organization you presented as a tertiary antagonist. He decides that his Ventrue really likes the way . Sure, you may “lose” an antagonist, but you can always make another, and your reward is an empowered player, and an empowered player is a happy player.

Some of Those Cards Are Liabilities

It’s okay in this situation for a player to overstep himself. Does a player want to be the king’s daughter? Or the prince’s favored childe? No problem. She may certainly gain some benefit from that, but as the game master or designer, that gives you new hooks on which to hang story introductions. As well, the trade-off is that, for a bit of benefit, the player has effectively volunteered to be part of a subplot connected to the prominent figures to which they’ve attached themselves. They may have to solve a problem that affects their patron… or they may be the hostage taken in an effort to leverage that patron.

Plant a Seed of Doubt


What if it wasn’t the Goblin King who stole the baby, but the parents themselves, who were something other than they seemed?The seed of doubt is a revelation that establishes choice in a plotline. Itcan be a red herring, or it can be a clue that a clever player discovers that leads him to the truth. Instead of having a black hat who’s undoubtedly to blame for the priestess’s disappearance, what if you set up your plotline to cast equal suspicion on the jilted princess and the heretic witch? Either one could be the true culprit. Most importantly, whichever one the players suspect, they’ll have doubts that they’ve chosen the wrong one, so they’ll investigate further, which is more fodder for exploration and meaningful roleplay.

You, as the gamemaster or the designer, should be sprinkling seeds of doubt throughout the game. Why? Two reasons.

One: They add depth. Without possible outcomes other than the obvious, your story is linear. It’s not a question of if your players’ characters resolve the mystery, it’s when. They can never go awry, and the only surprise inherent to them is the moment of the reveal. If the players have choices, they get to enjoy the opportunity to solve rather than wait out a plot progression. They can choose the wrong one, which makes for consequences, which makes for drama.

Two: They give you options as a gamemaster. When used in tandem with the “Don’t Know” method below, they allow you to feel out the outcomes and decide if you want to pursue the one the players seem to prefer. Or, if your players prefer lots of drama and surprises, it lets you set them up to be wrong, and thus give them a debacle to solve their way out of.

Additionally, however you use them, they let the players feel smart for being right, or sets their resolve against being wrong again.

Don’t Know

Seriously, don’t answer a question you pose in play or in background material. Let the answer arise over the course of play. Keep your options open – you may write a storyline thinking that the disfigured monk is the culprit in your mystery, but the players have shown much more interest in interacting with the winter witch who lives near the standing stones on the hill outside town. Watch what your players are telling you they want to do and give them more of that. They’ll feel clever for “figuring it out,” and their reward is doing some of your work for you.

This isn’t to say that your plans are invalid. But games are a shared experience, after all, and you’re participating with the players when you let them (indirectly) determine the outcomes of events in the world. For example, you may change plans mid-chronicle to have the winter witch be an agent of the disfigured monk, or vice versa. But the upshot is that the players get to resolve the events to which they are central in the way they’d like to see the outcome, and you still get to flex your worldbuilding muscles in response to the criteria they’ve established. It’s a challenge that you’ll learn from, working within parameters that come from external sources.

Of course, don’t let them know that you don’t know. Part of the fiero of solving in-game challenges is them feeling that they’ve puzzled out your clues (and thus worked within the external parameters posed by your gamemaster’s role. So you both win).

Also, using the “seeds of doubt” technique is a great way to stoke player imaginations and sort of stock the pond for the “don’t know” technique. It’s fine to have possible answers and allow the players to make the decision (behind the curtain) from among them.

This is much harder to accomplish in video games than in tabletop games, because video games have to be coded and the content arranged to answer the questions when the player resolves them, but with creative uses of content creation and story advancement models, it’s possible. But it’ll be expensive.

Know When You’re Right


Sometimes the good guys is the good guy. If the concept is solid, “shading” techniques will only detract from his function.In many cases, you will have made a decisions, and it’s for the best. Know when not to change. In particular, elements that relate to the theme and mood of your game enjoy some sacrosanct status, as changing them can result in a shift from the direction that you’ve established for your campaign.

Some of these are obvious. If you’re running a pretty straight-faced game, you won’t want to make your vampire prince a talking bear, or have the lone unexplored planet in the solar system have an atmosphere high in nitrous oxide. But others of these you’ll have to learn as you hone your craft. Will it change the flow of things for the negative to have the sentient garden instead be an underground grotto, or to have the faerie manhunter instead be a woman? Only you can guess at the answer to these questions.

3 comments
21 April 2010

Belluna Session Three: A Worm on the Hook

 Can Deo fast-talk his way out of captivity? Let’s hope so.

Click here to read the account of session three.

Leave a comment
19 April 2010

Worth Watching: Spartacus: Blood and Sand

 If you haven’t been watching Spartacus: Blood and Sand, or, worse, you started watching it but gave up on it, go give it a look-see. I’ll admit, the first episode or two is a bit of a slog, but it picks up. If you can get past the heavy-handed homage to 300 – which, yes, probably goes beyond the definition of “homage” – the show really is a dramatic treat.


Last Friday was the season finale and, holy smokes, does it end with a bang. The conclusion wasn’t as strong as episodes 11 and 12, but it does a great job of tying up all of the individual plotlines that have slow-burned up until the frenzy of the final three episodes.

The breakout star of the show is Manu Bennett, who plays the Gaul Crixus, the Champion of Capua until events conspire to take the title away from him. His surprisingly vulnerable love affair with the slave girl Naevia takes him beyond the position of Spartacus’s foil with a dramatic range that’s surprising to see from a beefcake actor.

On the whole the cast is great, from the charismatic Spartacus to the loathsome Ashur to despicable Batiatus to the sneering Ilythia to the doomed Varro and honorable Doctore. The only cast member who doesn’t really pull her weight is Spartacus’s wife, but, uh, at risk of spoiling, you don’t have to worry too much about her for too long.

Spartacus is a great plot model for a Vampire game or an action-combat game of your choice, depending on where you place the emphasis. The action happens not in Rome but in a distant city of the empire, which makes for a wonderful example of “other places matter, too” in the context of a large setting with an important central location. Indeed, you never even see Rome, but you feel its influence.

Give it a shot if you haven’t already. It’s Netflixable and the first two episodes are available at the Starz site. It’s an action-heavy soap opera for men with enough emotional tension and cliffhanger betrayal to satisfy the intrigue junkie as well. 

8 comments
16 April 2010

Build Gardens, Not Museums

 Worldbuilding comes with perils, not the least of which is often the tendency for a designer or writer to want to answer all of the questions he puts forward. This is a natural instinct. It creates a feeling wholeness and integrity. It suggests that the created world is a logical place, and that cause has effect. From a perspective of vanity, it demonstrates that the designer knows what he’s doing: No loose ends means nothing can unravel.


Two geniuses conspire drunkenly. What are they planning? WAIT, WAIT, DON’T TELL ME.Where’s the fun in that?

If you’re a writer, leave some loose threads. If you’re designing a game world, leave some of those stones unturned. The interstices, the lacunae, that’s where a world comes alive because they invite the creative participation of the readers or the players. A player or reader who finds a gap or shadowy bit in your world uses her imagination to fill that gap or shine light there. It makes her feel the world is partially hers.

(I’m not saying make your plot a sloppy mess — but we’ll cover plotting more in part two of this topic.)

Now, many worldbuilders don’t want to hear this. They hold up their worlds as bits of virtuoso craftsmanship, unassailable, unchangeable works of sovereign genius.

But that’s not interesting. If the player can’t change the world through his actions, or if the reader’s every bit of creative enjoyment takes a back seat to the writer’s omnipotence over the world, that leaves the audience disengaged. Especially in the modern communication medium, participation is key.

That’s not to say a writer needs to relinquish his “canon,” or that a game world needs to be slave to every passing player caprice. Writers, your readers don’t commit their details to print or digital permanence unless you let them, but they’re going to remember your work for far longer if you let them come along for the ride instead of just watching from the station. Gamemasters and designers, you’re building the world on a macro level, but isn’t it all really just a stage upon which your players can shine? Doesn’t it exist for them to explore, solve, and wonder about?

After all what’s more compelling, a block of quarried stone, or a sculpture?


Blasphemy? Or have I witnessed a secret resurrection? Let me savor not knowing for a while.This was the stock in trade for Vampire when I was running it. The writers and I would spend a few paragraphs putting together a situation or setting, and then we’d cast a bit of mystery over the idea by suggesting that the opposite might be true. Prince Umbrageo holds the city in his iron grip… or does he? Who are those vampires over there? Is there some truth to the fledgling Martina’s claim that she holds the Prince in blood thrall? What’s the real story here? Even if a chronicle never investigated that little quandary, it made the fictional world seem like a bigger place. It gave the sense that not all of the answers had been discovered, that some mysteries still exist.

Not everything fits in a neat little box. That, friends, is where the imagination can shift into high gear. Even though it’s tertiary to the central story (which it must be, because a world of nothing but smoke and mirrors is as unfulfilling as a “museum world” in which you’re not allowed to touch anything), the little things keep boiling in your players’ or readers’ minds. It keeps them coming back to you, hungry for more.

Next time: putting the theory in practice. Get out your gardening gear, as we’ll be planting some fecund seeds of doubt.

3 comments
11 April 2010

Belluna Session Plans: Negotiation Skill Challenge

 With Deo about to meet Fra Otto Piedini — who could be either a valuable patron or a relentless antagonist — I’m ready to construct my first skill challenge of the game. I don’t want Deo dancing at Otto’s whim just because the friar tells him what to do. I’d rather he had a little room in which to negotiate, to better secure an outcome for himself other than “This NPC says to go fetch, so hop to it.” As well, as a player, I’ve built Deo with certain skills, so I’d like to test those skills with a possible favorable outcome rather than just have Deo suck it up because he didn’t make a synchronistic choice.


Let’s hope it has a little better outcome than this experiment might.That said, this shouldn’t be easy. He’s going to need to hustle a priest who’s designed to be a manipulator.

With those principles in mind, I make the following design choices about this skill challenge.

  • It’s a level-one challenge. Piedini knows how well this individual fared against his temple guards, so his expectations are in accordance. At moderate difficulty, that makes the DC for this challenge 15.
  • It’s a complexity 2 challenge. Deo will need to accumulate six successes before he fails three times. He needs to effectively sell himself to Piedini, but not indenture himself. Thus, this challenge is a little more complex than a simple conversation, but not so complicated that he’s negotiating a treaty between nations.
  • In a certain sense, Deo has the edge. He’s a thief, and while Otto may have ordered a few larcenies in his time, he’s not exceptionally insightful as to how the criminal underworld works. Thus, I’m going to let Deo negotiate using his Streetwise skill (which currently has a +5 bonus) rather than forcing him to use Diplomacy or Bluff (ahem… +0). Of course, he can choose those methods if he wants.
  • I’m going to need to have Fra Otto Piedini’s stats on hand. If things go awry, Deo’s going to attempt to fight his way out of the situation. Without knowing anything about his captor-slash-patron, he’s going to consider this a last resort, but perhaps a necessary one.

So there I have it. Deo’s negotioation with Fra Piedini is level one, complexity two, and has Bluff, Diplomacy, and Streetwise as the primary skills.

With Deo’s +5 to Streetwise, that means he has a 50 percent chance of succeeding or failing on any given roll. Since he needs six successes before three failures, he’s more likely to fail than succeed, given the even split of the probabilities of any given roll. While that’s certainly not optimal for him, it’s part of the challenge. As a player, I need to accept that he may fail. As a DM, I need to think about what’s in store for him if he botches this negotiation with the friar.

Session to transpire Monday, and perhaps an adventure log if time permits.

3 comments
9 April 2010

Worth Watching: The Hayao Miyazaki Canon

 My daughter loves Hayao Miyazaki’s movies. She’ll be two soon.

I love Hayao Miyazaki’s movies. I’m 36.

I’m sure we both take different things from his movies — at least, I hope we do — but I’m glad she enjoys them. When my wife gave me the boxed set for Christmas, before Madeleine was born, I was hoping that at a vague time in the future, I’d be able to sit down with my wee bairn and watch My Neighbor Totoro and Kiki’s Delivery Service and we’d have that as a “thing” between us. Kind of like how I remember my dad dragging me on my sled to the Sizzler in the hip-deep snow when I was naught but a tiny scudder myself. I still remember that vividly to this day.


But, yeah, the Miyazaki movies are absolutely brilliant. Without a doubt, he knows how to create a world, and how to evoke it in the details. The gaps in between details he leaves are as compelling as the stated facts — why have all the men left to find work elsewhere in Porco Rosso, and what exactly made the wastelands in Howl’s Moving Castle? As well, none of the Miyazaki movies have “text dumps” of dialogue that exist only to foist the setting onto the audience. They’re like folk tales in this regard: They assume you either know the detail, or that the detail isn’t important to the story at hand. As someone who likes to play games and climb on compelling settings like jungle gyms, I love the interstices he leaves, because thinking about them becomes an exercise in creativity. Even if the question has an answer — the men left Italy because Porco Rosso happens in a time between WWI and WWII, and Italy’s depressed state between the wars and just prior to the rise of fascism meant there was no work — that detail isn’t important, so one you make up is just as valid and salient (and, if you actually know the truth, it feels like you’ve discovered something, which is an example of mild fiero in narrative design).

As well, the feel of Miyazaki’s worlds hit a special note for me. A little while ago, I did a post about how indie retroclone Elegia summarized what I love about worlds that share this same feeling. To reiterate, I love the melancholy feeling they evoke. That’s mostly because as I get older, I place an increasing value on the simplicity lost to youth and the irretrievability of time, and I mourn the big ol’ Robyn Hitchcock song that is my life, but to not get so navel-gazingly sickening about it and to quote Elegia, each Miyazaki

world is suffused with a vague, quiet, mostly unspoken sense of lamentation. Nobody knows why this is so, because most of the world’s true history has been forgotten.

Now, this may not be wholly true of Miyazaki’s creations, and almost certainly isn’t the case in all of them. We can assume that somebody in each world knows the answers, but those answers just won’t change a thing. The world is what has been wrought, and the drama happens in its undeniably flawed vessel. And the flaws are what make those worlds such gripping places.

It’s no secret that I’m not usually a fan of licensed games, but I would absolutely love to play in a world built by Miyazaki. Which isn’t precisely fair, because it would almost certainly be better in the undefined promise of a game-world by Miyazaki than in the implementation, which would suffer the letdown of reality when compared to the infinite promise of anticipation.

What I do, then, is I plunder certain bits and pieces of Miyazaki’s palette to use as I will. In particular, I’ve found the following movies to be exceptionally inspiring.


The Castle of Cagliostro

The two most appealing aspects of this movie to me are the believable use of a roguish hero as opposed to the standard-fare movie ubermensch, and the technology, which isn’t quite twee steampunk, but neither is it dependable modern mechanics. It feels like something you might find in Neuschwanstein, or perhaps in a forgotten cottage on a Ruritanian hunting trail.


Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind

This is my favorite of the Miyazaki films. It’s the absolute model of John Higgins’ quote about lamentation and lost history. Its characters are rustic and passionate, and they’re overshadowed by a world bearing the scar of their ancestors’ sins. It’s impossible to watch this and not feel a sense of loss, but also hope. The characters in the tale are veritably PCs and foil NPCs, and the emerging plot is both compelling and simple, a clash of kingdoms and the perils it places on the world around them. The costumes are exceptional in their believability, and the gaps in technology call to mind the golden age of fantasy fiction, before sci-fi and fantasy were two separate and stagnant genres. And it does all this with a conflict that seems like it’s man versus man but is actually man versus nature, which makes for an amazing expansion of scope when taken to the gaming table.


Castle in the Sky

Again, Miyazaki’s pervasive sense of isolation and loss characterize much of this film. The setting itself is a cornucopia of elements that can shade a good game setting. From the lost flying castle itself to the blissfully isolated mining town to the charismatic sky pirates to the charming architecture and geography to the secret treasures and technologies of the sky kingdom itself. This whole film just begs to become someone’s game setting, because every aspect of it is a gold mine. And skyships! Unsurprisingly, this is my very close second-favorite.

My Neighbor Totoro

While this is undeniably a children’s movie, it has a strong sense of place that obviously shapes its characters’ attitudes — it’s safe, but punctuated by occasional weirdnesses that are cast into sharp relief because of it. As well, the titular nature spirits make for fae who are almost understandable, not quite good-natured, but friendly to those with similarly innocent or “uncivilized” perspectives. This attitude is especially poignant when they help the troubled girls who become lost in the complications of the “real” world.

Kiki’s Delivery Service

In this one, I love the sense of isolation between the centers of civilization, and the quaint but contemporary feel of the world. This seems to happen somewhere in Europe, where Old World charm and sensibilities exist, preserved alongside semimodern technology. Plus, you know, witches.

Porco Rosso

This film has the same feel of nostalgic Europe as does Kiki’s Delivery Service, but the edges are a bit harder, a bit more hospitable to adventure and danger. Bounty hunters, seaplane pirates with quirky gangs, looming war, political stress, and individual vendetta combine to make this a veritable contemporary swashbuckler.

Princess Mononoke

This is many people’s favorite, but I find most of it incomprehensible. The parts that do speak to me, though, are the heroic prince who sends himself into exile to help his people, the primal princess who has likewise been cast out but found a new home amid the kingdoms of the beasts, the territoriality of those beast kingdoms, the scheming monk, the isolated village of hapless men and reformed brothel worker women, and the sheer kinetic energy juxtaposed with the slog of war. The story in this one is a mess, but the world has numerous treasures to be found and savored.


Howl’s Moving Castle

I find the details in this one a bit confusing, too, but the lavish, baroque backgrounds make for another wonderful world to explore. The soldiers look great, the “goblins” are interesting, and the sense of magic as an inherently untrustworthy art that can be turned to social gain under the right circumstances is a nifty social dynamic. Also, more implied than express, are the once-again isolated civilization centers, with vast swaths of “wastes” in between which can be bleak or stunningly beautiful. And those wastes are the domains of witches, wizards, and other nefarious types.

Spend some time with the Miyazaki films. You’re sure to find that they ignite your imagination at the same time they affect your emotions. My one-sentence mash-synopses don’t do them any sort of justice. The man himself is fascinating, as well, with his own quirks and passions that appear as motifs throughout his work. He’s a true wonder and irrefutably a treasure of cinema.

11 comments
8 April 2010

Belluna Session Two: Coming To

 I’ve just updated the campaign blog over at Obsidian Portal. The latest entry in the solo saga of one of Belluna’s intrepid native sons sees our champion Deo Capeti having his clavicles rearranged by an inhospitable spider and making first contact with his… savior? Or captor?

Click here to read the account of session two.

Leave a comment
6 April 2010

“Too Fair”?

Often, in games that don’t let me roll my own dice, I suspect the random result of the roll.


Keep your eye on this guy when you game together. He cheats.That’s silly, to be sure, but it happens. It’s most prevalent in video games, which obviously have no physical dice to roll, and I suspect that the detachment from the resolution system is why I regard it with such a gimlet eye. Are you sure, oh, benevolent computer, that I rolled so poorly?

Of course I did. The computer has nothing at stake. It’s not a person who cares if it wins or loses. Some fancy variant of random = rand() % takes place in the guts of the machine and the output tells me if I’ve succeeded or failed, and that’s where the disconnect happens. It’s my character undertaking the action, and when someone other than myself not only adjudicates but uses the implement that determines the chance-based outcome, I feel like I haven’t been allowed to “plead my case” as fully as I’d like.

“The game cheats!” my brothers and I used to protest during the 8-bit era. It didn’t actually cheat, of course, but it sure felt like it did, and that perception colored our experience. Whether or not the game actually cheated is a secondary concern, if I leave feeling like I didn’t get a fair shake. I really enjoy the Button Men iPhone game, but it sure feels like my d20 rolls therein turn up more results in the bottom quarter of the yield, even if the actual statistical outcomes show that not to be true. ( I feel especially foolish when I have bad dice rolls but still manage to win, as if I’ve called someone a cheater and it’s turned out to not be true.)

In many modern games, the opposite is actually true. Many games cheat in favor of the players, softening the outcomes of their rolls, permitting failure or gross failure only at certain frequencies, or causing the opposing drivers on the racetrack to take something other than the optimum course. The weirdest truth of the matter is actually that, in terms of implementation, this is harder than cheating in its own favor. Designing compelling AI that makes the player feel good without reducing the computer-controlled opposition to a complete idiot is difficult, a synthesis of engineering and psychology.


I know you’re not cheating me when I get to roll my own dice.Solutions? Let me roll the dice, of course. Failing that, reduce randomness. Puerto Rico, for example, has less randomness than Settlers of Catan. Street Fighter hits always find their mark if certain conditions are true, whereas in many MMOs, “you missed!” is de rigueur. As always, this is a design decision. Those scoundrel WoW devs want you to miss – and potentially even after you’ve spent some of your valuable in-game resource on the attempt! Fie on them, I say. (I also wonder if some of this is that legacy playstyle, with RPGs evolving from wargames, and MMOs evolving from tabletop RPGs.) And of course, the “solution” may actually be unnecessary. It may actually be that those designers do want you to miss sometimes, because you potentially missing means an enemy can potentially miss, and you experience a thrill when an enemy whiffs. To my tastes, though, it’s not an even trade. It’s less thrilling for an enemy to miss me, and it’s a greater frustration for me when I miss. And how do I even know that I really missed, when I can’t see the actual outcome of the dice? I have to trust that the information displayed to me is true.

And so I grumble.

3 comments
2 April 2010

Belluna Session Plans: Spiders, Man

So, if you’ve been reading along, you’ll know that my solo 4e D&D game, Belluna Serenissima, has gone off the rails in its single session. Thanks to some dismal die rolls and the subsequent spectacular failure of my protagonist to hold his own against enemies whose job it is to blow their own faces off when he thinks ill of them, my rough campaign sketch is no longer valid.

Big deal. I can handle this. I’ve written my way out of worse.


Fra Otto PiediniWith that said, I plan to accomplish this by giving a sooner-than-anticipated reveal to one of the campaign’s string-pullers. Fra Otto Piedini — “Brother Eight-Feet” — wasn’t supposed to show his face until three or four sessions in, once Deo managed to heist the bones from Tiempo Mattutino and slowly became aware of what he had done.

Shifting on the fly, I’ve decided that, having been mopped up by the temple guards under Tiempo Mattutino, Deo’s been trussed up and handed over to Otto, who wants details. Deo knows he’s done for if he doesn’t rat, but that the La Roccas will never accept him if he does rat. So he rats.

He’ll try to squirm out of that one later.

For the time being, though, Fra Otto decides to play along with Sebastias Pizzico’s plan. He offers to turn Deo loose with false bones, and to make a big show of having his temple plundered, to flush out whatever greater entity has chosen (so foolishly…) to hire Deo to steal the bones. For the present, Deo will look like he’s made good on his shady La Rocca contract, Otto can keep his eye on the development, and the La Roccas can plan their next move.

(Originally, I had planned for Deo to succeed and meet the La Rocca associate before Fra Otto, but Deo’s failure tells me I have to switch the chronology here.)

For the challenges Deo’s going to face in this episode of Belluna Serenissima, I want spiders. (“Brother Eight-Feet,” get it?) Given that Deo’s been unable to manage minions thus far, and that the lowest-level spider in the Monster Manual is the level-four deathjump spider, I need to do a little reskinning. I decide against lowering the level of the spider as printed, as I’m worried that its special abilities might outmatch this lone and hapless ranger. The bonus damage, superior mobility, and high initial damage dice steer me away.

Instead, I flip the page and see the lowly stirge. With a special ability easily mapped to what I want to accomplish with my spider, I simply put a spider mask on the stirge and decide that its bite attack with ongoing damage comes from clicking chelicerae and dripping pedipalps. Voila, a spider. Or several….

I hope to play the actual scenario tonight. Will update with updates, as appropriate.

3 comments
Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 1,838 other followers

%d bloggers like this: