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The Golden Age of Indie RPGs
My End of Year video is on the "Golden Age of Indie RPGs," from roughly 2010 to 2025. I start with Apocalypse World's release, work through the Google+ Era, and follow design lineages and historical events that have impacted the tabletop RPG hobby up through 2025.
It's easily the most I've worked on a video. 16k words, 9 interviews, 96 minutes. I hope it does the brilliant people in this scene justice.
Transcript here.
All I know is a door into the dark.
Seamus Heaney, Door into the Dark; from 'The Forge'
I realize now that I just don't have the mental bandwidth to write an entire fic, but I do still want to inflict my HammerHedgeAnvil idea upon you all.
((Part 1 of The Flea Bottom Tour))
It begins like this: Baelor lives! And by virtue of Dunk swearing himself to Baelor before he keels over, he is extremely attached to Dunk now. Practically begs Dunk to come back to Kings Landing as his sworn sword.
Dunk is very good at his job! If you are a Targaryen within his sight, you are the safest person on the planet. Matarys attaches himself to the hedgeknight Egg style (because he's only a year or so older than Egg in my dululu land) and now Dunk has two princelings following him around like ducklings.
Maekar (who has followed them to KL instead of going to Summerhall, he just can't let Baelor out of his sight rn) has BIG FEELINGS about all of this. His favorite brother (the brother he has not-brotherly feelings for that he is trying desperately to ignore but just Can't) is now never without this stupid fucking hedgeknight. The same knight that beat the tar out of his own son. And it was deserved!! He's grappling with the reality that Aerion is a little fucking Monster and will not stop trying to hurt others. He raised that! MAEKAR made that monster. And Baelor (and Egg he discovers later ((trigger warning, child SA))) paid the price.
And the one who is protecting his family from Aerion (from Maekar) and the vipers of the court is both competent and kind, like his beloved brother is. They're two peas in a pod, Baelor and Dunk. Ser Duncan may not have the silver tongue Baelor has (quite the opposite most times), but he's honorable, righteous and ferociously protective.
And Dunk's so so soft with the young ones. (Headcannon that Maekar turns into the gooiest, most dotting softy around babies/young children)
And that kindness, that chivalry, it extends to Maekar too! Dunk DEFENDS him, saying of course you fought for your child. That's what a good father does. And it tears strips off of him every time, because if he was a good father, Aerion wouldn't be the way he is, and Aegon wouldn't have attached himself so thoroughly to Dunk. Baelor wouldn't have had to fight and almost die for a hedgeknight's (for their family's) honor.
So Maekars extra prickly, trying simultaneously to watch over and keep his distance from Baelor, and finding himself to be loathsome in comparison to a hedgeknight. While also developing feelings for said hedgeknight and trying (failing) to squash feelings for his brother.
Now here comes the inciting incident of the would-be fic that I can't quite figure out, and don't really want to because I'm tired and this is for fun. Somehow, someway, by conspiracy and treachery, Maekar is lured out of the keep to be assassinated. To undermine Baelor somehow, throw the Targs into chaos or something. Dunk shows up and saves him, because he's got a pretty vast network of informants by now, sweet personable man that he is, and he's the only knight/guard who even wanted to save Maekar (he's been extra lately, no one but family wants to deal with him rn).
So it's like 7 vs 1, Dunk vs Traitors, with Maekar a little roughed up already trying to figure out how to help Dunk, but he's half slumped against a wall or some shit.
Que @raethereptile 's idea of Dunk absolutely WRECKING SHOP, holding nothing back because he's so outnumbered (and also because there is Maekar, usually so big and loud and angry and flawlessly clothed, now small and scared. How dare they. HOW DARE they touch Dunk's family)
Charles Algernon Tomkins (1821–1905), “The Forge”
mezzotint, n.d.
source
Hello again blacksmith, and excuse ny tariness. I'm sure you didn't mean after dark when you said after hours. Time ran away from me while I was leading a training session for the new recruits, and their need for correction and discipline turned out to be more dire than I thought. I came as soon as I could, I hope you don't mind me being fresh from the field?
You are quite right about the armor, no harm in letting a professional take a look at it. Would you prefer it say on or should I take it off? I'll admit the heat of the forge makes the latter more appealing, but for this I am yours to command.
After dark suits me just fine, Captain. I know you're very busy getting the hounds in order before your upcoming trip to Bloodhaven. And my, you must've been training them hard today, you're covered in sweat. You must be exhausted
I'd kept the furnaces running in my wait, it's certainly too warm in here for this time of night. Come sit on the stool here, I'll help remove your armour. Hmm, is this your blood or a foes? I can tell you like for it to linger on your armour, you've got some little rust spots here. I'll buff these out for you. A smart enemy will exploit these spots, and I'd hate to see such a wonderful body come to harm
Speaking of, let's get this chainmail off and get you measured up. Am I allowed to touch your chest, Captain? I'd be happy to take my own tunic off if it would make you more comfortable
Star Trek: Enterprise - Season 4 Episode 7 "The Forge"
source: spockvarietyhour
