Bluestocking's Organic Gaming

It's a Saturday. Just after noon. I'm sitting at a table with a money box, some sign up sheets, pens, the necessary coffee, and the RPG I'm designing and currently editing. There are people at tables behind me, playing games I helped organize. The coffee isn't hot anymore but I drink it anyways. Then he appears. My saviour. With his fair skin and loud voice and knowing eyes, I can barely hold myself from bowing down at his godly visage as he imparts his wisdom to my keen ears. His mouth opens and the wisdom of the ages falls from pink lips. He is telling me how to run a convention. A man. Is telling me. How. To. Run. A. Convention. Praise the fucking gods. How could I do it without this unsolicited advice? I resist the impulse to drop everything I'm doing and start taking notes. Instead, I respond to his comments with logic and a cool head. He eventually stops talking to me and looks down at his phone, loiters near me for a time, before he leaves the conve...

How much of yourself do you toss onto the table?  My answer: All of it. My character's name is Robin. Robin had an abusive partner who socially manipulated her. Robin felt betrayed and broken afterwards, especially when that abusive partner hurt someone she loved. Robin has trust issues, and tends to be easily socially manipulated because of her inherent sense of low self worth. She wants to have hope, but finds at every turn it's tossed in her face. My character's name is Aislinn. She's the daughter of a man who has an alcoholism problem and beats her. Her mother died a year ago. Aislinn is in high school and is mildly obsessed with dead things and hanging out in graveyards. She feels socially isolated because of what happened to her family, and doesn't feel like reaching out, because who could understand? My character's name is Oz. He's a rocket launcher toting badass who wants to bring hope to the world. He doesn't know how to do ...