Down on the Farm; Out in the Maze (James)

[James Fawcett]

"A group?" James repeated, uncertain at first what that might mean. It was only after his echoing question had fallen from his lips that he recalled roleplaying groups at college. Some of the other musicians had been into that sort of thing; he'd been too shy to even consider joining in, and nobody had asked. Perhaps everyone had assumed he wouldn't be interested, recognizing that he rarely agreed to social events that weren't directly related to music performance.

With no personal experience to draw from he had only absorbed ideas from other people about roleplay. He was pretty sure that math was involved, because he'd heard people say on occasion that roleplaying had improved their math grades.

And then there was Focus on the Family.

Focus on the Family had a profound impact on Evangelical culture, and their attitude towards roleplaying was nothing short of hysterical. James had been a child when he'd first heard of Dungeons and Dragons through the radio play Adventures In Odyssey, in which two boys become involved in literal dark magic because roleplaying games were gateway drugs to satanic activity.

He'd been terrified of Dungeons and Dragons for years, up until meeting people who actually played it. Somehow they hadn't seemed all that evil, even the ones who wore pentagrams and joked about the state of their immortal soul. He'd vacillated between wanting to like them and worrying that this was Satan tricking him for a long time before falling on the side of this is a harmless form of storytelling and my parents and their friends don't know what they're talking about.

"How d'you...do that? D'you dress up? D'you gotta solve math problems? I dunno if I'd be very good at it, but it could be fun."

[Simon and Cyrus Ettinger]

Cyrus realized that he hardly looked the part of the typical roleplayer. Himself, all grace and charisma, long legs and symmetrical features, hair that obeyed his comb without poofing out or becoming frizzled in the humidity, not a pair of glasses or contact lenses in sight; he had never even touched a pocket protector, and neither he nor Simon had required braces in youth.

He - Simon, rather - had been born at the height of the Dungeons and Dragons panic, to which their parents had paid no attention as a young, upwardly mobile Jewish couple who would no more recognize a Chick Tract than the average Evangelical could discern the difference between a Havdalah and the Hanukkah shamash.

The Panic had largely subsided by the time SImon entered kindergarten, long before Cyrus had been willed into existence. The Ettinger children had access to video games and trading cards and comics with relatively little oversight, parents more concerned that a nude deck might fall into Simon’s hands before sex ed explained the birds and the bees than about the expanse of the imagination - so long as Simon attended his practices and lessons and events as scheduled.

Then, at college, there had been a comic and gaming shop a few blocks off campus, readily supplying anything that their friend group required - not merely for roleplay, but HeroClix had been unveiled their senior year of high school, and there were tournaments held at the shop on Saturdays - and a number of collectible board and card games ranging from The Settlers of Catan to Fluxx to regional Monopoly.

Fair or not, Cyrus credited this activity with giving SImon half of his friend group and keeping Cyrus himself from exploding into a ball of white-hot rage on Election night 2004 when the results were called for Bush’s reelection. They had switched their campaign, then, to become more political for the next year and a half, at his suggestion.

“Sometimes we dressed up,” Cyrus admitted. Another bump sent their kneecaps pressing one another quite abruptly, and he deliberately did not jerk away as was the typical human reflex to a surprise motion. “There are a couple of different types of games like that - LARPing and table top. You’re thinking of table top with the math; LARPing mostly has counting.” That was the extent of the math involved, keeping track of your life points, while the leader was tasked with calculating the effectiveness of powers and spells.

“It was a lot of fun, a good way to meet people and let off some steam after classes and tests.”

[James Fawcett]

The sudden closeness caused James's heart to leap into his throat and heat to spread across his face, but he didn't jerk away either. Instead he attempted to focus as hard as possible on the discussion of roleplaying.

"Oh. Right. There was some vampire group that met up on campus sometimes. So you...do which one again? The tabletop or the LARPing?"

[Simon and Cyrus Ettinger]

Cyrus enjoyed the touch every bit as much as James did - and through his empathic reception, was certain of this reality - although he had greater self-control. When was the last time he had blushed? In bed, surely, not out in public surrounded by strangers and their superhero-obsessed toddlers.

Not that he particularly cared what other people thought of him. He wasn’t ashamed of who he was. And while he was, on the whole, inclined to move more quickly - not one-night stands but to make the first move - James was so skittish and he wanted to do this properly, to coax him out rather than risk scaring him off. With the confirmation that the other man liked him back.

Cyrus could move more quickly with someone else, but he didn’t want someone else. He liked James.

It was almost surreal, the conversation focused on roleplay groups while their knees touched and bumped and slid along, and if he was fifteen years younger it might be almost impossible to concentrate on vampires - not even his preferred genre - but he did understand the appeal.

”I did both. LARPing was fun, but I might be a little over the hill now.” Said with a self-deprecating laugh; he was only 34, and took good care of himself, but cavorting around the woods (the less said about their own adventure last month the better) was often a younger person’s pursuit. “I’d be happy to get together a group for either, whatever other people were willing to do. Table top might be easier to recruit for.”

[James Fawcett]

"So how do you find people to do that kinda thing with if you're not in college?"

Social activities determined by forced proximity was truly the easiest way, but he wasn't going to assume there were enough people interested at the apartments or among their fellow Hammel faculty. "If you're willin' to teach me I'll give it a try. No promises I'll be any good, though."

[Simon and Cyrus Ettinger]

College made all social events easier. Cyrus, for all of his affability and extroversion, admitted this as a practical matter. Roommates provided the basis of friendship; even if one failed to click, antangonism was rare, and one could make inroads with one’s roommates friend group. To say nothing of being surrounded on all sides, occupying an entire building, of other boys and girls your same age, in the same stage of life. Among them, there were at least a handful of others who shared your interests.

Clubs met regularly, date, time, and location advertised for all to see, and welcomed new faces. Teens and young adults stayed up late and had an abundance of energy - men peaked in their early twenties - and the effects of peer pressure lingered enough to leave many otherwise reticent people open to new experiences, at least occasionally.

Classes were relatively uniform as well, with the average credit load some 14 or 16 class hours with some lab time or homework, nothing like the standard 40-hour adult workweek and the additional time teachers spent on grading, lesson plans, and other tasks.Time was in abundance, with an evershifting crowd of available partners in addition to one’s core group of friends.

However, Cyrus was charismatic, outgoing, and resourceful. One way or another, he could find others for a gaming group, consisting if not of fellow teachers, than young adults met through town or otherwise willing to travel up to Salem from more distant part of the county.

”First things first, we ask around the school and see if anyone else is game. If that isn’t enough, I’m sure I could post an ad or a message board.” The digital equivalent of a community corkboard, which had always been successful in the past. If random strangers years ago could coordinate flash mobs, then surely he could put together a half dozen for a tabletop campaign.

As James agreed, Cyrus turned the full brightness of a smile on him. “I’m happy to teach. And you’ll do fine. Once you get the hang of it, it’s infectious.”

[James Fawcett]

"So how many people d'you need?" James asked, uncertain what the protocols were here. "Does it take a long time?"

Clearing his schedule for an hour or two on a regular basis wasn't precisely the easiest task, but he would make a herculean effort to do this so that Cyrus could have his group again. And to learn this hobby that his friend liked enough to want to put together a group as adults, when so many people had put aside that type of pursuit.

[Simon and Cyrus Ettinger]

The tractor turned right, leaving behind the corn maze and the scarecrows, while up ahead the delighted squeals and coos of children carried on the wind intermingled with the oinks, baas, and clucks of the menagerie occupying the petting zoo pen.

“Another three to five if we were to do a table top game. At leas five for a proper LARP, so the table top might be easier for numbers, but it has more math.” It might be easier for a number of reasons - time commitment included. “It’s usually a few hours each stretch, once a week or once every other week, whatever works best. Every other week might work better if we went with the LARP, to give everyone more time to recuperate from running around for half the day.” His resting expression tugged into a wider smile, as though he was telling a joke.

Perhaps he was, with only a touch of exaggeration. Granted, his last dedicated LARP had been a few years prior and the Internet was rife with jokes about turning thirty and suddenly finding wrinkles in the mirror and suffering the same aches and pains afflicting the elderly. It wouldn’t be terrible, he thought.

But the table top would likely be easier to organize and could persist no matter the weather conditions. As they were already facing November and the Northeast winters were on the horizon, this was yet another point in its favor.

“If we did tabletop, we could eat and play at the same time.”

[James Fawcett]

James lapsed into silence, reveling in the autumn breeze that ruffled his curls and the closeness between himself and Cyrus. For whatever reason his friend was willing to spend this time with him, running all over town for activities that he would have been too shy to attend on his own.

It was nice having someone to go with.

Without Cyrus he would have stayed home, would have missed out on the scarecrows and the towering ears of corn and the smell of funnel cake and grilled meat and the shriek of joy of the children riding gently plodding ponies near the petting zoo.

"LARP involves a lotta running around? You can't just stay in one place? Cause if you found the right place for a secret superhero base I can play ambient organ music. Just gotta rent a place that has an organ. Maybe one of the churches wouldn't mind..."

[Simon and Cyrus Ettinger]

At first blush, one might think Cyrus wouldn’t understand, couldn’t understand; he had no reason to, after all. All confidence and popularity, connecting as easily as he made eye contact, how could he know the oppressive weight of leaving the house, when

But he and his other half was inexorably entwined, a shared body and closely linked minds made him privy to his emotions, his thoughts, his needs and fears. And while Cyrus used that most often for course correction and compensation, he still felt it himself, vicariously.

Bad enough that Simon so often went without because he couldn’t summon the strength to leave his bed, let alone travel across town, or mount the confidence or the energy to speak to a stranger to transform them into a friend.

Cyrus wouldn’t allow James to suffer that as well, not when he was available and enjoyed going out, caring more about the travel and the time together than the exact destination or activity involved.

But he kept that to himself. Choosing instead first to direct James’s attention to the petting zoo and what appeared a particularly adorable baby goat, and then to focus on his friend’s question. “What do you mean in one place? A lot of LARP involves looking for clues, sometimes chase scenes and battles. We can stay in a designated area, but we need more than a room or two to keep up with the story and to avoid being on top of each other. Usually we used the campus facilities or a public park, because it was free.”

And students, and then young adults in their first jobs, were mindful of the price tag associated with each of their hobbies and diversions. Between rent, student loan repayment, and the other costs of living, what remained at the end of the month was always in flux.

“That’s an idea and three quarters,” he remarked with a smile. “Can you play a Casio or is that too…trite?”

It would be easier to borrow a portable keyboard than find a venue with an organ, but he had no desire to dissuade his friend, showing interest in the activity when he had been so confused and hesitant at first.

[James Fawcett]

"Oh, right." James responded, allowing his gaze to drift to the goat that Cyrus had pointed out lest he spiral into a guilt cycle over not thinking through what LARP might actually entail. Of course it wasn't an activity that could easily be done in one place.

He exhaled before dragging his teeth along his bottom lip, trying not to mentally chastise himself and failing. Sometimes it seemed incredible Cyrus wanted to spend time with him given how many stupid things came out of his mouth.

"I can play a Casio, no problem. But I guess if everyone's tryna think about battles and clues and stuff it might be too distractin'. Maybe if you have people who....what's the word, the uhhh....bards? Who fight with music?"

[Simon and Cyrus Ettinger]

There existed moments when Cyrus yearned for greater power in his repertoire than the myriad limitations of his prowess. Stronger, more confident than Simon, greater access to their potential, but still ultimately restricted where certain other psychics could prevail.

How he wished, right now, that he could show James how Cyrus viewed him, with all of the positive qualities he had demonstrated over the past few months of their friendship. Thus distracting him from this path of self-recrimination over what ultimately didn’t matter. Why kick himself over asking a question about a hobby that he didn’t know anything about?

That was an effect of the anxiety, he knew, could feel it himself, but he was ultimately powerless to stop it without a direct suggestion (which was an abuse of their friendship). Leaving him to work with the clumsier tools of speech and distraction.

But, just as he opened his mouth to speak, James found his own words and stumbled along with the conversation. The empath was proud.

“Bards,” he confirmed.”And there are usually interludes in addition to bards. When I put together games, I care more about making sure everyone has a good time than sticking too closely to a script. I’d prefer everyone get to play a character they like than getting stuck with something just because it balances out the group. So if you want to be a bard, we’ll make you the best bard we can.”

[James Fawcett]

"There are scripts?" James asked as the wagon rolled to a stop back at the location they had boarded from.

The family whose child Cyrus had rescued stood, toddler tugged on the mother's hand towards the steps, babbling in excitement about superheroes. James didn't stand, preferring to wait until the other passengers had all disembarked before doing so himself. Otherwise he found himself feeling nervous about holding up the people behind him, and besides, it was nice sitting here.

There was no sitting in the corn maze.

[Simon and Cyrus Ettinger]

“Not with set dialogue or anything like that. More of a guideline for the plot, and then archetypes. I don’t like for people to feel that they can’t play a character of their choosing because there might already be a bard or we already have someone who can teleport.”

Cyrus remained seated as well, smiling at the child as they passed by, tiny fingers curled around their mother’s while repeating the names of all the superheroes they knew. Parents of older children followed, and a young couple on a date stepped down, arms linked as they discussed what of the available foods for sale might taste the best.

Soon, James and Cyrus were the only ones left in the wagon, and the empath rose to his feet to make room for the next batch of visitors crowding the steps for entrance. Hopping down, he then sun around and offered a helping hand to his friend should he need or want to make use.

“The corn maze next? Or do you want to stop in on the petting zoo and meet the goat in person before we go off on our next adventure?”

The other man had mentioned his poor sense of direction and fear of getting lost to the exclusion of other activities, after all. Cyrus was less concerned but remained accommodating.

[James Fawcett]

James accepted the hand in the spirit with which it was intended. Haha, no, scratch that. He accepted the hand and privately hoped that Cyrus didn't know how exciting that was because wouldn't that be embarrassing?

The only true way to cope with impossible crushes was by pretending they didn't exist.

"I think the goat's on the way," He commented, even though now that he tried to bring to mind the layout of their tour he wasn't actually sure if the goat was on the way or if the goat was after the maze exit.