Category Archives: My projects

Synanthropes: Big changes, big changes.

I have made a huge, huge, mega-huge update to Synanthropes; I have stripped out and completely replaced the central dice mechanic. Once it was all about collecting a dice pool, now it’s about rolling 2d6 and adding bonuses; for every +1 die in the earlier system, it’s now simply a +1. Other than that, it’s operating on what might be recognized as the Apocalypse World standard, where results of 10 or more accomplish the task, 7-9 accomplishes partially or at some sort of cost, and 6 or less means that not only do you not get what you want, but something bad happens besides.

Admittedly, I’m a LOT less codified than the Apocalypse system, as I have no such things as Moves, but the core remains the same.

Okay, why would I do such a crazy thing? It was not an easy decision! And yet, I am confident that it was the right one.

Why? Well, let’s consider some things.

Probability curves:

I spent some long nights on AnyDice, rolling and rolling and looking at curves, and trying to come up with ways to ensure that success when you didn’t have any bonuses wasn’t nigh-impossible, while success when you stacked the deck in your favor wasn’t as sure thing, and eventually I came up with something that looked perfect:

On a d6, 4 or 5 counts as a success, 6 counts as 2 successes, and 1 is a botch which removes one success from your total. You need a total of 2 or more successes to fully resolve the task, but a single success will let you partially accomplish your task, or accomplish it at a cost.

Oh lord, I didn’t need to playtest that. Just look at it! For criminy’s sake, it’s ridiculous! It’s so far divorced from the world of numbers that I might as well ask folks to buy a damn spinner or other truly esoteric randomizer.

(Note to self: what sort of interesting things can I do with a spinner? Makes it really easy to create an “I succeed IF I’m using an Artifact” or “I succeed IF being helped” option. Interesting and useful… the more bonuses you have, the more slices which count as successes. Interesting… but not for right now. Save that for next Game Chef maybe.)

Anyway, a standard 2d6 makes a familiar probability curve. I lose that “no math needed” thing, which is unfortunate because I really like not having to rely on even basic calculation, but adding 2 dice and a few random +1s isn’t much of a hardship… you can do that on your fingers (and if you run out of fingers, it means you have succeeded, so, that’s a tangible bonus).

Doubles:

Finding Clues is a central part of Synanthropes. It’s something I really want to be unexpected… a random occurrence, indicative of an interesting thing stumbled across. First edition: Clues came when you rolled to find them, which I didn’t much care for. Second edition: if you rolled extra successes, you turned them into clues, which was a little better, but still frustrated and didn’t work so well. Third edition: Any doubles turned into Clues, which was better (in that it meant you could fail your way into finding Clues) but still troublesome (in that the odds of finding Clues were still tied, very closely, into how many dice you were rolling and therefore your likelihood to succeed; I instituted a “one Clue per floor” policy to help mitigate that, but it honestly felt like a little more trouble than it was worth).

Now, it’s still doubles… but it’s doubles on 2d6. Odds of that? 1 in 6. Period. If there are six rolls on a given floor, one of them is guaranteed to dredge up a Clue. (Note: Edward does not understand statistics). Clues are equally likely when you’re flinging around wildly, as when you’re rocking a basically sure thing.

It also means I get a little more freedom to play around with species-specific bonuses and Hoard points… Roaches can roll an extra die, for instance, and count only the two highest, when going into situations when they might get hurt. Raccoons working with technology don’t change the dice they roll, but the “partial success” range is dramatically increased. This gives the different species unique mechanical attributes, which is something I always wanted (but since they’re Hoard-point activated, they’re still minor enough to keep things reasonably balanced.

Initial tests look promising.  Which is important, because the Wheels of Publication are starting to turn.

(They’re self-publishing wheels, to be sure. but they ARE turning all the same.)


This is just to say

I have taken down

the rules

to Synanthropes

that were on the navigation bar

and which

you might have considered

downloading

for your own personal interest.

Forgive me

I have big plans

for a big release

in the near future.

 

Okay, that was a bit silly. BUT I have removed the link to the current iteration of the game. Why? Because I have Plans, dear readers. Long-term Plans. More details will be forthcoming, but the short of it is, next year, if I can get all the logistics sussed out, there will be a Kickstarter. Oh yes.


Aperture Science Sokoban Testing Initiative

Last week I mentioned a game that I was working on in PuzzleScript. There was a link to the game in progress.

To-day, there is a link to the game which is done: Aperture Science Sokoban Testing Initiative.

It’s Portal, told as best as I can through the game engine. Which, honestly, came out pretty great, given that my last experience attempting to code a game happened on a TI-83+ graphing calculator. 

I’m quite proud of myself. For designing levels which people have found challenging but possible, for punching out bugs wherever I discovered them, and for writing which, in my mind, serves as a pastiche of what made the Portal series so entertaining, without simply hitting identical beats; in the same way that Portal 2 featured some callbacks to the initial game (companion cube, cake, etc.) without simply repeating the bits which had become memetically entertaining.

I gave myself a challenge to do something relatively new with “cake,” and I honestly think I achieved it. But that’s a spoiler, technically, and this isn’t a post-mortem analysis. This is an announcement that a thing has been completed!

Go, play Aperture Science Sokoban Testing Initiative! Push some crates, fling some portals, eat some cake, and enjoy!


Synanthropes, simplification, and emotional beats.

Hey there folks; it seems like it’s been a dog’s age since I last mentioned Synanthropes. Let’s me fix that.

Synanthropes.

It’s been a while, but I finally started working on the game again; you’ll note that the versions in the sidebar have been UPDATED.

With Synanthropes Lite, I didn’t have too much to do; I changed some of the wording, I altered the Roach’s attitude toward the Artifact to encourage a bit more fussing, and I dropped the timer down to ten minutes, which is a bit more reasonable than fifteen for pure arguing. There’s a semblance of mechanics there as well; indeed, I’m pretty sure I’ve created the world’s simplest game engine: you can do anything that you say you can do, unless someone says you can’t do that, in which case… you can’t.

(I’m sure I’m not the originator of this game engine, which owes a lot to the third grade “Nuh uh, ’cause I have a laser shield” brand of narrative construction).

As far as Synanthropes proper, there have been a few more changes, one of which is a baby-killer: no more career dice.

I think one of the advantages of not looking at this game at all for almost two months is that it allowed be to clear away some of the assumptions that I had been making, and instead throw a fresh pair of eyes into the problems. Before, players had a Career; it gave them a bonus which they could use once per floor, allowing them to either re-roll a failed roll OR allow another player to re-roll a failed roll, if that roll had some sort of relationship to their career. It’s… it’s fine enough, I guess. It’s really useful, at times! It does some of what it needs to do: gives players a meaningful way to work together AND to have a sense of self-identity not tied solely into their species. Plus, it seemed like a great idea when I made it, which was at a time when characters were nothing more than their species.

Also, it was a fiddly thing to track. It wasn’t commonly used. It was often unhelpful. In playtests, I would make an effort to use it every floor, and other players would… not often remember it existed. Sometimes they would take advantage of it, usually because I prodded them. It may have been useful, but it wasn’t memorable and it wasn’t FUN, so it wasn’t used. I had to have a bit of a think about why that was, and that think happened subconsciously over the course of October, springing forth the instant I clapped eyes on it this week.

“If I am a soldier,” I thought to myself, “I can use this re-roll when I fail when I’m fighting. But, if I’m fighting, shouldn’t I… not fail? Shouldn’t being a ‘soldier’ be something that helps me do well, not something that fixes it when I don’t do well?”

Consider it an issue of emotional beats. If you haven’t read Ryan Macklin’s commentary on this, well, you should, but the hyper-brief summary is this: every action you take produces an emotion, and you should ensure that the emotions created by the mechanics are able to work with the emotions created by the fiction. Career dice were producing a toxic situation here.

In the fiction, I set up to do a difficult task, attempt it, and (hopefully) succeed because I had the skills and resources. Call that the narrative progression. Mechanically, I gather my pool (which re-enforces the idea of marshaling my resources, a positive or at least appropriate emotional beat). I roll the dice and count the successes (it’s an analysis moment, so it disrupts the emotion but only very briefly… call it almost neutral). I see I have sufficient successes, and accomplished the thing (hooray, I did well) or I do not, and I failed (oh no, what goes wrong?), either way my reaction as a player to the roll of the dice matches and re-enforces my reaction as a character to the situation.

But with career dice in play, there’s an extra step: I fail, and I have to ask myself if I can use my career here, if I have already used it, if the situation is important enough TO use it, so on and so forth. Emotionally, I am already disappointed by my failure, and the flow of the narrative is even more disrupted by another round of the “what resources do I have” game, with a resource that is more rare and finite than Artifacts, allies or even hoard points. Even if I do re-roll and succeed, I succeed having already been irked by my failure earlier; emotionally, it becomes a toxic moment, destroys the flow of the game, makes me dislike thinking about my career, and does not bring the fun.

Damn! No wonder everyone ignored their career dice! If anything, being a soldier and trying to do soldier-ish things is actively DETRIMENTAL to feeling like you’re good at stuff. Not only are your odds of success only slightly improved, but often those successes don’t FEEL good.

So what do I do? I get rid of it. Oh, there’s still a career die, but now it gets put in your pool like everything else; simplicity, consistancy, and now the awareness that “hey, this is the sort of action I’m trained for” is a part of that marshaling of resources which is where I want it to be!

As for giving someone else a boost with your career, that’s been folded into Hoard points. Again, one less thing to track (now, the only mechanically-limited resources you have are your hoard points, which you can track easily). You can’t re-roll for yourself (which means that for the actual roller of the dice, there isn’t an additional hiccup), but you CAN offer your career-based boost to other players; this is a different emotional response. For one thing, it means that, in a situation in which you are otherwise outside of the roll, you can still be invested in it and participatory in it. For another, the emotional journey of “Oh no, I failed! Wait, Seneca is here to help me? Huzzah!” MAKES SENSE; it’s a case in which the mechanics track with the fiction, instead of fighting against them, while simultaneously re-enforcing the theme of working together (or attempting to work together) which flows through the piece. At the same time, if it’s tied to Hoard points, it still remains a relatively valuable commodity (which means I might need to consider awarding Hoard points more often, in light of their increased value and necessity).

The question is whether this will make careers more useful; my gut says that it will mean players can have a greater investment in their careers, which will translate into an increased tendency to show them off. Whether that is true or not, time will tell.


Synanthropes: How much difference can one word make?

So, here I am, working my way from Synanthropes v. 3.1 to 3.2. It’s a bit of a slog. But there’s one change, at least, I’m very excited about: DANGERS are gone. Stricken from the game. OBSTACLES are in.

Oh, there are other tweaks going on… Dice are different, in that you start with more of them but only succeed on sixes. In theory, this will increase the odds of doubles being rolled, and increase the imperative to seek out every opportunity to net an extra die possible, because seeking out every little advantage is very much in character for these little explorers. Will it work, or will it just make you feel too weak, too helpless against this big, scary world? We’ll see.

Clues are being tweaked as well, to keep the game pace rapid. I’m decreasing the number of clues required by two, and doing that by making the answer to one question a clue for the next. Other advantage: this means that the answers to questions will be by necessity spread out a bit… it’s a bit less freedom in the clues you get, but should make the overall flow of the game better. Will it work, or will it make the whole affair seem a bit too stagnant? Time will tell.

There are a few more nips and tucks in the works, but honestly, I think the most important change I’m making from one version to the next is replacing that one word, turning Dangers into Obstacles.

Because I believe in the power of words. A game lives and dies on its terminology. The difference between a successful run of any given game and an unsuccessful one (or even a great run and a merely good run) is in the attitudes that the players bring to the table, and those attitudes are shaped by a million different units of context, making them brave or timid or prone to explore or vindictive or argumentative or straightforward or whatever. The only means I have at my disposal of manipulating the attitudes of players (especially when I’m not at the table, facilitating) is through the appropriate use of words, to tick the right little boxes in that contextual supercomputer that is the brain which activates the subroutines for, in the case of Synanthropes, “I want to explore!” “I want all the stuff!” “I want to argue!” and so on.

For instance, “Artifacts” is a good word for making folks want something. It sounds important! That’s why each floor contains a Human Artifact. If it were called “Human Trash” or “Human Detritus,” then why would anyone care? It’s valuable, because I SAY it’s valuable, but if you keep referring to a thing as trash, over and over, then you begin to think of it as trash, or at least, begin to underestimate its value because it’s being associated with trash. But Artifact? Well, that’s a dead sexy word. Sounds like it belongs in a museum. There’s a hint of magic to it. It conveys in inherent mystery. Human Artifact.

So why are Dangers now called Obstacles?

Simple. A Danger is something you avoid. It’s there to be evaded, worked around, worried about, and, if necessary, faced–but not faced willingly.

An Obstacle is something you OVERCOME. It’s there to be pushed through, to be dealt with, to be faced as a matter of course… you want what’s on the other side of the obstacle, because it’s important! If it weren’t important, why would there be an obstacle in front of it, eh? Eh?

As a player, dangers are scary, obstacles are inviting. As a Narrator, Dangers are vague… they could be put anywhere, be anything, wiggle around uncertainly. Obstacles are concrete: they are between the players and the door, or between the players and the Artifact, or both. Sure, a clever Narrator can and should play around with placement, but when in doubt, “this thing is in front of the door to the stairs” is a never-fail proposition.

Certainly, there are other implications, one of which being that everything on the list of obstacles must be something that stands between the players and the conclusion of their mission. I’ll drop a few of the more argument-based dangers, and add a few more creatures and constructs to stand in everyone’s way. That’s minor. That’s just… busywork, at this stage. The shift in tone and presentation is going to be more relevant, I think, to keeping the game moving the way I want it to.

Will it work? Well… I’ll find out Tuesday, I suppose.


Post-PAX

Oh man, PAX. Oh daaaaaaang you guuuuuuuuys, I did a lot of PAXing in the past few days. I ran through four quiet years, each less quiet than the last. I wandered around an expo hall, frightened by all the loud noises and blinking lights. I saw a really cool Tom Servo puppet, and other cosplay that didn’t include puppets so whatever. I met some interesting folks, I ate a delicious salad, I hung out with a friend, and I Networked like a business-minded mercenary.

(On the other hand, what with all the preparations and stuff, I completely fell off track with regard to editing the novel. That’s okay, I only have like twenty manuscript pages left on this particular draft, and I will get to them tomorrow. It’s my Big Plan for tomorrow.)

Perhaps most importantly, though I wasn’t able to run through the full version of Synanthropes (due, mostly, to folks being more interested in Quiet Year, and that being a game which is playable by only two), I did get four runs of Synanthropes Lite in, teaching me a few important lessons:

  1. Synanthropes Lite works! It is fun and interesting and folks had a good time. VICTORY.
  2. Synanthropes Lite drags, just a bit. Just a bit. Maybe instead of fifteen solid minutes of argument, I make it ten minutes, which means that the entire game (including the brief introductions and wrap-up questions) becomes a fifteen-minute affair. And of course, that time is as adjustable as you want to make it. Also, I should make a note that if the conversation about the Artifact ebbs on its own, that’s as good a call as any to fade to black a minute early, just to keep us from needing to harp when we’ve discussed something to death.
  3. A fifteen-minute con game is a great idea. Like, totally. There were several situations when my game ended with an hour or so before the next sets of games began, There were lots of people who thought an idea was good but didn’t want to spend two hours when there’s so much PAX to do. There were people who I wanted to do stuff with who had other commitments but a few hangout minutes to spare. There were people waiting for games to start, or waiting for another person to sign up for a game, with a little time to kill. There were people who had never played story games before, and would balk at a two hour commitment. ALL of these were events which occurred, and ALL of them were treated with a direct application of Synanthropes Lite, and (at least from my end) all of those games went really well and ended with happy people leaving the table having enjoyed themselves. And of course, happy people leaving the table having enjoyed themselves is basically what gaming is all about for me. (Maybe you disagree. Maybe you’re all about messages and learning and feeling and growing as a person and whatever. That’s fine too. That’s not how I tend to play, though).
  4. Synanthropes Lite works! Worth mentioning again, because it was a last-second sort of project but managed to hang together into something interesting, so… yes. Super happy.

Synanthropes cover design

I’m not much of a visual arts guy, but when the mood takes me I can make things I’m pretty happy about. Today I made a cover suitable for putting on the front of a nice printed booklet for Synanthropes, if I were in the habit of printing out nice booklets.

Synanthropes cover

(Am I in the habit of printing out nice booklets? Well… not as such, but I am going to PAX next weekend, and I will be running indie RPGs for two days, and, well, who knows?)

 


Synanthropes post-playtest notes!

Okay, Synanthropes playtest, time to do a little after the fact deconstruction and contemplation and all that rot. What’s WORKING, what’s NOT, and what needs to be CHANGED.

WORKING! All of the Synanthropic species. Okay, they’re not perfect yet… some Traits don’t have any real use, some are too easy to fall upon for everything. Some Mysteries and Legends are reliable at prompting fun clues and motivations, some are just a bit weird. Some species have more hooks for being appealingly alien than others. But at the capsule summary level, every one of them has worked as a character concept, and THAT makes me happy. Godspeed, you lot.

ALSO WORKING: Hoard points! Again, tweaking is needed, some ways to gain them are easier than others, some uses are more powerful than others. Some things didn’t come up in this last game at all, and it’s impossible to tell, offhand, the difference between an ability that wasn’t useful this one time and an ability that straight-up isn’t that useful, but the idea works, and has proven way more intuitive and functional than the fiddly dice. Mechanically, everything else is proving functional, expecially…

PROBABLY WORKING: The new method of finding Clues. Pacing-wise, we found nine Clues over the course of ten floors, which just about perfect. Narrative-wise, we found them in many ways: successfully making a daring leap, failing to hold our ground, knocking another character about, getting knocked about, all over the place. I was pretty sold on Clues being things that we stumbled across all over the place. On the other hand…

NOT QUITE WORKING: Narration privilege getting passed to whomever last found a Clue. As was pointed out last night, this meant that some people didn’t get to narrate very often, and others more than they expected (both lame). Now this bears a digression.

The Indie+ testers thought that shared narration might not have been worthwhile, that a single narrator might be more effective. I spent some time considering it, because, well, it’s an important issue, but ultimately I could not disagree more; the advantage of a single narrator in an RPG is a consistent voice. The GM has an idea of what’s going on, and can make sure that everything links up in a way that makes sense… which is not what I want. If the narrator wants this building to be military in nature, then suddenly it is, and every danger can be twisted to reflect that, every floor to somehow relate to that… even if the Artifacts can’t be directly military, their placement and other details can attempt to rectify that and produce a setting that’s internally consistent with the narrator’s vision.

That’s good, if that’s what you want. But I want the characters to be out of their depth. “What is this place?” isn’t just a question for the Synanthropes, it’s for the people at the table as well, and it should be shared self-discovery. Ideally, they will start forging toward a specific conclusion, but… it has to be forged. Not really knowing what this building is about isn’t a failure condition… knowing immediately and all-too-well what this building’s for IS, because that denies them the ability to truly explore something mysterious.

Having the narration ping-pong around semi-randomly was meant to facilitate this (and, incidentally, keep any one player from dominating the clue-finding field, since it meant nobody could find two in a row), keeping everyone off-guard with respect to who would be up next to narrate. Is that necessary, though? Just moving clockwise by scenes is more fair, perhaps, and gives folks time to prepare to narrate, while the danger oracle will still throw a wrench in the ability to craft a specific plan. Oh, incidentally:

WORKED BUT COULD STILL WORK MUCH BETTER: The Danger Oracle. Lots of ‘meh’ options to weed out, and it was suggested that some of the specificity could work against me, meaning that multiple games can get a bit same-y. Imagery over description might be a better bet, (not necessarily literal, but not necessarily not). It’s fine enough as it is, but I’m thinking of the ability to have a few smaller, imagery-oriented lists, from which elements are matched… an item from column A and an atem from column B sort of thing. It’s worth consideration, enough that I’ll give it a try on the next big test, I should think.

So, TO BE CHANGED: Passing of narration, format of the Danger Oracle, and the setup of the character sheets (in that there’s some blank real-estate that could be made more useful, which isn’t really a thing that WORKS or DOESN’T but is, you know, just a thing).

But yeah, the core game is functional and makes me feel good, so I’m smiling here. Woo, Synanthropes.


Synanthropes, v. III

Synanthropes Version 3.0!

Another ruleset, this time complete with the sixth and final synanthropic species: the Gecko. Based on the house gecko which infests urban areas throughout Asia, they’re built to be the “rogue” class, in that they’re a society built on asocial paranoia, because they’re tiny lizards. Hopefully, they’re fun. I’ve also tweaked the Clue rules, enabling characters to stumble upon Clues even when they fail at tasks, which makes a lot of sense. Also, as previously discussed, the Hoard dice have given way to Hoard points.

I suspect (though I won’t know this for sure until after the next few playtests) that I have the rules where I want them to be. That doesn’t mean that the process of testing is over and done… rather, it’s the big issues that are dealt with: the central mechanical interactions should be functional and entertaining, and the remaining changes are going to be relatively minor: tweaking the composition of the Danger Oracle, for instance, and the specific skills of the different Synanthropes (for purposes of balance) and the precise cutoff for delineating success and failure. These are important, but these are going to be alterations to what is present on the page already. Tweaks. Revisions, rather than full resets. To put it another way, the next time I throw up a copy of Synanthropes, it’s proooooobably going to be version 3.1, and the changelog won’t mention anything being added, just being altered.

That’s of course assuming that I don’t see something completely fall apart in the next couple of playtests, requiring me to go back to the drawing board on a major concept. That’s a pretty major assumption, but it’s one I’m happily making.

Anyway, here it is! ENJOY!


UPDATES!

In which Ed talks about his projects, and considers, abstractly, whether he should update the “Projects” page of this website.

…he should not.

What’s up then? WELL.

This week, This is How You Die came out. Today, I was finally able to pick up a copy for myself, and check out Tony Cliff’s AMAZING illustration to my story. It is… it is a perfect thing. The sort of image that makes me want to either get a big signed print or upper arm tattoo of Grun, lookin’ as introspective as an orc physcially can look. So man, that’s a thing.

Also, other comics and illustrations and stories, so all that’s well and good. Have you picked it up yet? No? Not even an e-book edition? Okay, well, I ain’t gonna tell you to do so, but I am going to think it pretty hard.

OTHER PROJECTS:

The Guild of Steamfitters was, for a long time, lying totally fallow as I was uncertain how to deal with a specific bit of mechanics. Eventually I opted to just wait until inspiration struck, and when it did, I jumped back in. Only, it’s not the Guild of Steamfitters anymore… it’s something new.

The working title is the Style System, and the goal is to be… sigh… a universal system. I know, I’ve asked myself the obvious question a thousand times… in a world where GURPS and d20 and FATE and Risus all exist, what makes me think that there’s room for another unversal at all? Huh?

Well. Short answer: I think that mechanically it hits a lot of what FATE does well (high narrative, pulp-heroics, etc.) while being a little more crunchy and not dependent on Aspects. Your mileage may vary on that one, but some folks aren’t super into Aspects. I like them okay, but… well, I’m often happier without them.

Longer answer: I have an idea about what I want to do with settings. You see… A lot of what makes an individual setting interesting, to me, is its mechanical interaction with the narrative… that is to say, with that the rules allow and encourage you to do (and by that token, what they forbid and discourage you from doing). To put it another way, the difference between a good cowboy game and a great cowboy game is whether the horses are treated as extensions of the character which can be ignored or entire mechanical subsystems which must be navigated. Being complex makes horses important, you see… but when they aren’t important, they shouldn’t be complex. That’s why the core of the Style system is modular rules additions. Guild of Steamfitters needs “Crafting (Inventions and Wonders of Science)” and “Factions and Reputation”. Anywhere else, those can be fudged. The Kaerlud City Guard needs “Magic” or a form specific to that city, and “Investigation and Clues” which, again, can be fudged anywhere else. Oh, you can slip in extra modules as needed, but on the whole, two should cover the important bits.

Anyway, it’s the very beginning of a huge undertaking. And if it gets to be too huge… I pull back into what I know, run it as Steamfitters, and push the base system and modularity to another time.

Book Binding. It’s my novel. It’s… I need to go over it again. I do, I always do. But it’s done, and I have a query letter, and I’m working on a synopsis and my wife made a list of agents to consider and we’re dreadfully, scarily close to the “WE DOIN’ THIS” point. Oh yah. We doin’ this.

Synanthropes. I’ve made a few changes, some big (Geckos have become the final species available for play) some small (all Rats can play music now) and some widespread (Hoard dice have become Hoard POINTS, as discussed some time ago). I’ve learned a lot from a couple playtests, and am super eager to do some more, because I’m very close to the point where the game is, like, done enough that I’ll want to spread it around. To the point where I won’t change a lot anymore. Where the oracle will be altered considerably and the legends and mysteries will be perfected and the layout will see a lot of action but the GAME will be ready to go. I might be at that point, but I haven’t been able to test the last iteration due to illness. So hey… we’ll find out soon.

And that’s where we stand on ED’S PROJECTS.