Everwake sits right at the point of pervasive play/street gaming that interests me. The point where it crosses with and becomes linked to Interactive Theatre. The point where it offers an immersive world akin to that of Live Role Play, but without the need for the player to assume any character other than a heightened version of themselves.

I haven’t played anything like it. I’ve heard a lot about the Zombie game in Bristol, which has similarities, but not, I think, the same level of artistic aspiration. Everwake is definitely starting to achieve artistic excellence, in a sphere that has always had the potential to include that, but where it isn’t necessarily the foremost goal.  The character acting throughout was fantastic. The choice and dressing of every location we managed to visit was stunning (except perhaps the final room in a pub phone call scene). And it is on the way to figuring out how to be both theatre and game seamlessly.

I spoke with a theatre director involved in it, whilst waiting for a bottle neck to ease, and she said she hadn’t wanted people to need to be aware they were playing a game, once they were in it. With her work with the actors, I think she’d achieved this. They weren’t there just to provide instructions for the mini games their stories offered, they told us their stories, and held the games within them. They seemed to be able to comment a little, when prompted, about the major storyline characters, and they could deal with us without breaking character when we tried to offer alternative solutions whilst failing to solve the presented puzzle. In fact, I loved that I wasn’t sure whether we’d managed to pass a challenge or not, in one or two situations, or whether our conversation with them had led them to trust and give us items. (Other friends felt that they had met some characters who couldn’t go very far off script when questioned, so perhaps this wasn’t universal, but it was certainly much better than usual in this type of game).

The overall atmosphere was fab too – the encounters were spookily set up though not overly scary (having seen Ghost Stories last year I rather expected them to use bright light sudden noise, hidden touch more to mess with our heads), and the Shades prowling put the adrenaline in on the streets.

The weaknesses in terms of immersion were not in the acting and encounters, but in bits of the overall game design. In all games, there is a transition from realworld to gameworld – where the rules of the game cause players to act differently to everyday life. In a game like Everwake, there is a second stage transition to storyworld – for me, with a background in Live Role Play, and for this director, judging by her conversation, there is a desire for that transition to be as clear as possible – without needing to be dragged back into the gameworld to think about rules (or even worse, into the realworld to think about realworld rules).

Everwake had collisions with both.

Our photos were taken and armbands put on, by people in Event organisers t-shirts. This puts those actions into the ‘gameworld’ realm. As it turns out, both things were actually implicated in the storyworld, our photos logged us as trapped, and armbands were not just a rules symbol of alive or dead, but something which, it turned out through a ‘get a life back’ encounter, could be exchanged, exchanging life force. Additionally, there was lack of clarity over what effects a lifeband being turned red meant in terms of game behaviour (did the person get to carry on with us – interact with ghosts etc) and in terms of story (if you’re red banded when the serum wears off – what does that mean). Relatively minor niggles – but that could have improved immersion if they’d been worked out.

A more significant niggle to immersion – once in Storyworld who is giving instructions? In between the last two encounters, a person told us to go and take a phone call – but that person only had a game identity, not a story one (likewise the person holding the phone when we took the call, and I understand from friends another encounter where the game instructions were spoken by someone in high vis when they could easily have been written on a wall). Immediately we are in gameworld instead of storyworld – and somewhat confused. There are instances where this can be parked easily sideways as something that we simply accept (ie bottlenecks – no problem at all with those being dealt with outside of the story) – but for major transitions of storyworld information, like what to do next – it breaks immersion.  And that type of immersion break was particularly problematic for Everwake, because, in reverse, it affected the win conditions.

To ‘win’ the game, it became clear it was necessary not only to collect items from the ghosts but also to ‘not trust the doctor’. However gamewise, we couldn’t avoid returning to him. Not too bad, there was a story parallel – serum running out, no choice but to return.  We simply refused to hand over items to him and that way afterwards discovered we had ‘won’.  However many many teams did not make that choice. I don’t think it was because they had missed the clues not to trust him, I think it was because they were confused as to whether the instruction to hand over items came from storyworld or the character of the Dr dropping in to gameworld. The large bottleneck made it seem like this would be the final encounter. The handover would seem like ‘returning property’. So at the final moment the game blurred game and story world, and gave players a very unclear ‘win’ opportunity.  We were the last team to finish (having retreated from the bottleneck, rather than being late back), so I didn’t get to discuss with others afterwards how much of a disappointment that might be.

Likewise, the final encounter with Tom on the phone – which could have been pure story ‘you’ve done well’ had gameworld in it ‘you’ve won’ – another  minor but unnecessary hiccup which left me feeling a bit muddled.

This could have been eased if there had been a final guided transition out of storyworld into gameworld and then back to realworld. There was a pub, there were drinks, but a debrief which clarified in pure game terms how successful we had been would have been really useful. How many teams had survived (what actually was the mechanic of losing if two red banded people when related to the story anyway – was the team trapped, despite their serum running out?), How many teams had kept things safe from the Dr,  which ghosts had been protected from the Dr?  (Actually if Tom knows, he could tell us via the blog if any were missed – I think only about 3 teams kept their mementos and it would be a surprise if between 3 we had reached all the ghosts). It is important to remember that the players have come to a game, not to a promenade theatre, and acknowledging gameplay, (once having firmly closed off the storyworld so it is safe to use for future installments) is for me an important part of that.

Oh, and finally, the realworld collision – chase and roads. Yes there was a safety brief, and yes I’m sure the Shades (those chasing on the streets) had it as well. But there’s a tweak here – I think they were probably briefed also that their win condition was either ‘to catch as many people as possible’ or ‘to scare people as much as possible’  - those kind of briefs to crew always tend to override safety. A better brief  would be that their win condition would be ‘the most interesting scare’ or ‘the furthest you could make people go off track’ with capture only an incidental benefit. It should keep the tension just as high, but avoid situations where they decide to use busy crossroads to trap people by jumping out of trees.  The Shade that did that offered an amazing shriek, jump and terror moment, and it would be nice to have experienced it somewhere that didn’t immediately throw us back into the real world because of safety.

I’m really looking forward to more from the Everwake team. And more than that, I think they’ve convinced me that their pre-game stuff would be worth investing time in (they were calling on people to research ghost stories of Canton, which I’m now relatively confident that if someone had done, they would have included the story in an encounter somewhere).

Its also inspired me to push making some pervasive games content up the to do list. We don’t have anything of this scale in the planning box at the moment, we do have an all day engagement game to run at play festivals which should both stand alone and support other games, and connect well with any place we take it do. Just need to find a way to raise the time, and maybe even money to make it.

Wig packed. Check.

Water Bottle in Bag. Check.

Phone Charged. Check

Must be off to a pervasive play/street gaming event then. Starting the day with the 40 minute walk from Splott to Canton and I know I’m going to finish up with sore feet despite the trainers. The wig, incidentally, is something I told myself I would always pack after the first Sandpit I went to seemed to be full of games of chase, hide and escaping recognition.

First pleasant surprise – I arrive late, and the games haven’t filled up already. In fact 20minutes to slurp a coffee and I’m off to play my first of the day – though I’m not going to review them in that order.

I’m too excited by Search and Replace, and must froth about how good it was as a game. Simple, clear instructions from the off – make a team with some other confused looking people, pick out 5 squares with letters on them (or blanks, like scrabble) then roam the streets using the letters to replace letters in words on the street and make new ones – collecting the right words to fill in the blanks on a prewritten story. We had Ben with us, so obviously the first thing we did was replace the C in Police with a T, and get shouted at from the Police Station window. Young Will also gave us the tip of the day – use perspective to make the letters fit right.

A game of race against time, of exploring different spaces (could Polish words give us interesting English words – no!), of creativity and tactics (we decided to collect a lot of words fitting the different things we needed – which ranged from weapon to names to animals to clothes and make the story later) and a really nice showcase element, where upon return the teams had to perform their new story – only showing the pictures of the words if they were challenged. (Nice rules query – one team had replaced the a in sapphire to make sapphire – excused, on a first play through – but not quite right. We might have been harsher if we hadn’t used perspective to make World turn into Wild).

The story sharing (with a touchy feely everybody did great, everybody won ending) was a nice transition out of the game – though I found myself compelled to hunt out other players and discuss tactics afterwards. Also impressed by how tiny tweaks to the rules could give the game a different feel – if we’d known we weren’t going to show all our pictures we might have cheated more, making it a game of bluff as well as creativity for example. In fact I can see myself enjoying playing (running?) an entire day of search and replace – with the challenge at each iteration changing, and teams building up points across several games. It could push the artistry further as well…

Unfortunately,  the other games of the day I played were less memorable, or memorable for not entirely the right reasons.

I started out with Phone Frenzy – which was actually a lot of fun, but was less a game, and more a promenade performance by a single character actor (mostly voice only, down phone lines). There were clues, that could be worked through – but the path was entirely linear (despite it looking like there were 5 locations available at any time) and the final encounter had a clue in it that meant even if you missed all the others, you got the right answer. (Fair enough actually – the game was billed as Ark Lark, not Use Your Noggin – I really like the categories that guide you to what you’ll get). On the upside, there was a really nice IC rules brief, and a perfectly clear, if abrupt ending, and the character work was strong, and the surreal storyline lightly entertaining.  I might not have been so disappointed, if it hadn’t been that I thought we’d run  into a really brave games designer – we’d sauntered to our first appointment and got there to find the phone we wanted to talk to dead (off the hook) – I thought it was our punishment for being slow… turns out it was scripted and planned.

The same guy ran Concrete Jungle – again his strengths as a character actor and enthusiast for games were clear – but the game itself was a bit random, and we kept trying to figure out what to do before he told us, because we could see the set up in front of us…

Unfortunately my worst game of the day was the one I was most excited about. Gatecrash. It was billed as riddle solving, thinking, and had Alice connotations. Well it sort of delivered the Alice – in costume and nods. But there was no game at all. There was a cute craft activity to get started but then one character told you to go to another, collect something and pass it on. All locations shown on a map. So it was a point to point walk. The character acting was ok, but not especially interesting.    It had a really nice thought about introducing people to quirky local shops – a character was in a cafe and another in a sweet shop – but it failed to get you to put any money into the local economy, or pay much attention to the shop itself. So it also felt intrusive.  And it stuck a book in the outer area of the library, which was just really irritating, because thinking about trying to solve clues (would it be in the Ears section, or the Lewis Carroll section, or…) led you to nothing.

OK so I’m hyper critical as ever. It didn’t stop me enjoying the day as a whole. I’m fascinated by what different people feel constitutes a game, and I had a good time discovering that. The hang out area being behind the reception desk was a little nerve wracking, but ok once you got used to it, but I’m told that it was really difficult to get the student games designers to show you their work in the digital suite. Nothing ran very late, and the organisers were all really friendly. My only overall criticism is that I think they went seriously overboard with the over 18′s rating. Of the games I played, only Phone Frenzy had anything content wise that might have been offensive, and safety could have been dealt with throughout as ‘Family Friendly – but under 16′s must be accompanied by an adult’ (and I’d only keep it at 16 if insurance wouldn’t let me bring it down to 12). Gate Crash especially might have benefited from a family audience. And getting parents to bring kids is a great way to hook them into remembering that games are fun for them too.

The best bit of the day, was that a friend of a friend dropped out of Everwake – so I got to go…

I was spoiled for conferences in about 2005/6 when Nalgao introduced open conferencing and market places to its annual events – since then I have really struggled with every ‘sit and listen to talks’ event I’ve been to. PlayArk had the advantage of finishing early, so the day of sitting wasn’t too long. It also gave a really broad overview of what Play and Gaming is meaning to a range of different people (from business to academia, to autism) which I found interesting.

So what did I learn? Alice Taylor’s new project combining avatar creation with online gaming, 3d printers and dolls seems to be a work of evil genius. Matt Locke  has some great perspectives on audience attention patterns in the 21st Century. Some people doing interesting things in creative education for autistic children have not learnt how to talk about them engagingly or convincingly. Oh – and Dan Dixon from the Pervasive Play lab at UWE is doing fascinating thinking based off Victor Turner’s work, about how games cross into a liminal (or liminoid) space, and how well/badly the transition into and out of that space is handled. He also highlighted one of my areas of interest -how much do street games connect with the actual area they are played in. His talk helped me place a lot of the things I’ve been thinking about since I started playing these kind of games, and definitely influenced how I analysed the PlayArk games the next day.

I also learned that even (or perhaps particularly) great, natural presenters can be rambly, overuse slides and don’t always command the stage as much as they could. Interesting that the work we are doing with one of the companies I work with advising Insurance Managers on how they present at their internal conferences is aiming to push them to beyond the level some of these real hot ticket speakers are reaching.

Finally, tons of ideas for how I would tweak format for events of this nature – probably because I hate the networking section over lunch/coffee, and feeling of not being part of the ‘in crowd’ – I’d want to help structure that for people like me! Now what do I want to run a conference about?

In a sense, we failed. I think we’d be hard pushed to find a clubber who had a sense of the story we were trying to tell, or of how their actions changed the events of that story. Layers of  little ‘uncover me’ plots went entirely unpoked at, never surfacing, and therefore never influencing the main story.

On the other hand we had a great time, and we provided two impressive installations and a series of walkabouts that clubbers blatantly enjoyed interacting with. The sea dragon puppets – at 4am on Friday, just wire frames, one partly covered in Kapok – were decidedly cute, they danced, drank punters drinks, ejaculated orange glitter in the top room and birthed baby glow dragons onto the foyer dance floor, and made it into The Londonist’s story in pictures. (bottom left, puppeted here by Conrad).

The voting system was a great decision making option for clubgoers. Just as I hoped it could be either a momentary interaction or something people returned to, to check on progress…  over the course of the evening, we ran 5 or 6 votes each with 40 – 60 votes cast. And yes, the votes did influence ‘what the seadragons did next’ but I don’t think it was particularly clear, and often the results of the various votes suggested conflicting paths. For the future, I’d want to write those votes and their consequences as a Choose your Own Adventure flow if I was going to focus on a visible, tangible narrative emerging. It also helps that our photographer Si White is a major games designer – from his vantage point behind a Victorian box camera, he pointed out that a ‘reporting back’ mechanism could also be helpful if the goal really was to make the narrative something people could follow and be moved by.

There were other successful elements – fabulous clockwork hunter walkabouts – one on stilts – no photos as yet – though he was stopped for the purpose numerous times! Also, our cast operated as ‘meet and greet’ in the foyer in the early part of the evening – a great way to introduce our presence, and for Dom and Conrad apparently the most fun of the evening.

I did a short stint as a poet, composing 3 bespoke poems for partygoers (a love sonnet, a ‘good luck on your trip to china’ and a ‘return to the world of steampunk’ finding I could use rhythm and meter to create quickly – though the sonnets still need more work). The model of game interaction Si and I discussed (essentially: ignore, look, poke, interact, provoke further interaction) would allow me to build this up into a full act – it needs better signage to improve ‘lookability’ and a roulette wheel or other way of handing out pre-written poetry to fulfil the ‘poke’ criteria – commissioning a poem is a jump to a high interaction level very fast.

The Nautilus Heat Exchanger – probably the piece of kit that took up the most build time was in the lower stairwell, and nearly everytime I passed there was a sea-captain or other reproprobate having their photo taken in front of it – but I can’t find any of them. Perhaps we’ll hire it for use in a photographers booth for a future WM or other steampunk event!

All in all, it was a massive effort  - and the best thing about it was using the opportunity to pull together a vast team of creative people who hadn’t collaborated before – and so – a quick name check…

Black Lab Ltd – Ben Mars company which does computer animation by day, and other things in between, built the dragons, and the heat exchanger, as well as providing (via associate member Nigel Potts) the main dramatic conflict, setting and plot, and Nigel and Ben both joined the cast.

Dave Kingett of Mothership (a now mostly defunct clubnight) built the clockwork hunters and the voting system display, with assistance from Stephen Dorman a long term crew member from Mothership and Black Lab, and both joined the cast..

Firecat Masquerade provided the stilts, two character actors, and a lot of reassurance – being the only other people we know who’ve tried game/installations in clubs, mostly at Seductive Alchemy

Norwich based It’s a Trap provided a ton of steam punk props – including lending us the wonderful Mrs Carruthers from Arms Race

Nat Rouillard and Conrad St John Jones were our two other character actors – both of them also run games - Insurrection and Necrogenesis.

Finally I did the shopping, some of the building prep (I got forearm ache from sanding) the twiddly plot that didn’t get used, and the general panicking and pulling it all together!

Will there be more? – almost definitely, both on the side of Installation/festival/club walkabout (I really want to develop the Poet character) and possibly on the ‘game in an unusual setting’ – we have thoughts about advance seeding of ideas – moving into pervasive/arg spectrum – but also about simply writing freeforms to play out within a club, and buying group bookings to an appropriate club. My long term dream is actually run a cabaret night that is entirely and totally a game – with every act influenced/determined by audience actions – probably marketable more to Punchdrunk/No Fit State fans than a club audience… but the possibilities are definitely there!

Will we be back to White Mischief – well that’s up to Tobias!

At Bristol there were some highs. Martin Maudsley (seriously underrated, if the frequency which storytellers get booked at festivals outside their own area is anything to go by) was in virtuouso mode with family wonder tales – despite having broken an elbow and smashed up his face the day before. Michael Harvey was stomping about as a Giant (I didn’t know the Wrekin Giant also visited Pontypridd, you’d have thought he’d have got wise to the shoe trick). Paula Brown had some lovely little palette cleansers for the open mic session, and David Ambrose gave a very convincing conniving fox in a sheep stealing Welsh tale. Steve Killick and Francis Maxey were bravely experimenting with clowning and storytelling combined. As it happens I don’t think it particularly worked – sorry guys (the swapping of hats to switch teller was layered on on top of the tale rather than coming from within it, even though they had the perfect opportunity within the tale since they were working with the Hunchback of Baghdad which comes with a dead body pass the parcel built in) but just the fact of seeing the experimentation was a delight. I didn’t make it to the beginning or the end of the day, there may well have been other gems.

But the story marathon – giving as it does opportunities to amateurs and professionals alike – had the same issues to deal with that story rounds do. Some of it just isn’t very entertaining.

Now different story rounds have different aims – some are for the benefit of the tellers, and it doesn’t matter that the quality of the performance varies, in fact it’s essential for developing work (last month the lovely people at Telling Space put up with me interrogating a grimm tale at them rather than telling it) and this is great. But many are open to listeners as well, and may be someone’s first introduction to storytelling.  It is to each organiser to decide how to make their evenings work – I go to two of the very long running rounds (Tales at the Edge and South Lakeland Storytelling Club) regularly  - both of these have a policy of allowing some music, plus poetry, monologue – an anything goes approach which seems to keep it lively and interesting. Other clubs stick to the storytelling, but change things up by having themes and moods. But what of us as performers – don’t we have a responsibility to make these sessions as entertaining as possible?  I think we do – and it’s not (as I once thought) about keeping our mouths shut until we have a perfectly shaped tale to tell.

This, after many many evenings at story rounds (curse you you storytelling trainers who first sent me to them to make sure I hear lots of storytelling, and now satisfied I’ve done that say I must keep going to practice my craft) is my starter list of pitfalls to avoid if you want to be entertaining in a public round. I would love to hear whether people think any of these are a bit harsh/off beam in some way – and if other people have additional tips to add. Please note I am absolutely not advocating for any particular style here!

1) Length. It’s too long. Almost without a doubt. If you’re just starting out, stick to 5-7 minutes, maybe 10-12 once you’ve more experience if it’s  a piece you are really confident with. If it’s any longer than that and you’re sure it needs to be (see below) then let the round know it’s going to be long, ask their indulgence and don’t do it every month.  My big early crime – I remember Taffy, always too much of a gentleman to criticize, just sort of doing something with his presence that let me know I wasn’t finishing my first tellings up at the South Lakeland Club smartly enough. I got better (mostly).

2) Length 2. It really is too long. Especially if you are using dialogue at every opportunity instead of selected opportunities, or if you are adding description to all sections instead of selected sections. This is particularly problematic if its a story the audience is likely to know, because their minds will get ahead of you, and then they’ll get bored.

3) Length 3. It’s not too long, but in making it short enough, you’ve made it too short for itself. Confused? Well this is one I can be guilty of often – at present I’m working on Idun’s apples, and a mash up of Molly Whuppie/Boots and the Troll. To make either of these short enough for a story round I end up pretty much sketching my way through the events. Not very interesting. Another crime that is worse if you are telling a well known story. Don’t give me a short sketch version of something as deeply rooted as  the Loathly Lady – I know what happens – tell it to me in such a way as it makes me feel something or don’t tell it at all.

4) Well known tales – an escape route. I’m tempted to say only tell them if you know you’ve really made them your own. But there is another way. Accept that the audience knows it. Appreciate that. Chris Lowe’s Mr Fox is a classic example – he doesn’t really do anything different with it – it’s not the most sinister version, or the most gory or moving – but he has it working so we can all join in and in the Black Country each October we’re waiting to hear it again.

5) Rhythm is your friend. This links particularly to number 4. But in all circumstances. Are you aware of the rhythm of your piece? If you aren’t, get aware, because your audience will notice if it hasn’t got a pulse. As an addendum it might be that instead of the rhythm of your piece, it’s your own personal rhythm that dominates. This can also work. (I’m thinking particularly of Appalachian old time tellers here but there must be other examples)

6) Well known tales – another problem. Some well known tales are quite slight – important, enjoyable but not epic. When trying to make them your own, be careful you haven’t given them too much. In terms of delivery, in terms of description. (another big flaw of mine – trying to develop a ‘high performance style’ and putting it in inappropriate places). The Stonecutter is one of those that I’ve seen this happen to a lot (and used to do myself with a Jack variant of it).  Incidentally this also often makes the tales – yes you’ve guessed it – too long.

Well those are my starting thoughts. Not sure what use they are, except perhaps to provoke debate, since I do like the fact story rounds are open to all and relatively non judgemental spaces, and you can’t go giving people a scary list of tips like that when they start out. But maybe i’ts something that its worth all of us who tell at rounds a lot reflecting on – because public storyrounds are so often a gateway to the art form – we should all want to be telling at our best.

Katrice Horsley – Devil, Maiden and Crone @ Birmingham Storytelling Cafe

I do hope Katrice will forgive me for saying that whilst I had every respect for her as a consummate storytelling professional, I had only seen her tell single tales before and found her style a little over the top for my taste before this January. I say this not to criticise – but because it is one thing to write glowing praise of a teller who is a favourite, another to sing loud about something whn expectations did not start out high.

The Devil, Maiden and Crone is a really great show. It is built around Katrice’s own interpretation of Pretty Maid Ibronka – a Hungarian tale, and is quite heavily patterned and scripted. I was utterly gripped, and fascinated – particularly by the way in which Katrice played with the rhythms I associate with pure poetry as well as the classic storytelling rhythms. Phrases threaded their way through the whole evening and wrapped in to the listening brain – whilst questions – of duty and desire – were subtly raised, gracefully interrogated. It was however, a show which seemed to not quite fit within the storytelling cafe – where space is tight, and audiences close. I have a sense that there were many places where Katrice had to choose to hold back, not to push – be it volume, intensity or emotion.  She made the performance work for this audience – but left me with a sense that in a different space, it could be more.

Nick Hennessey – The Ruined House of Skin

Nick was the first featured storyteller at Dreamfired Storynights in 2011. Like Katrice’s show, this felt quite heavily scripted (especially in the opening section which took me a little while to get into, less so in dialogue moments) though it uses traditional story patterns rather than drawing from verse as well. It is a series of Irish myths told inside the frame myth of the King of Ireland’s son. It goes deep and the audience reaction in the village hall was really telling. That perfect silence then applause, that went on long enough to make the performer a little uncomfortable – a desire to hold on, to keep the spell going.

Essentially I think that deeply connected shows like these offer a very different experience to a selection of stories despite the fact that we promoters tend to programme them in the same way. Even when those story collections are set inside a frame (eg with Dominic Kelly’s Crow or Joanne Blake’s Smiling Fox) if the stories come from different worlds and moods, then the audience are not taken so far, find it easier to come back… We have a guest stories section at Dreamfired Storynights, and, against the grain, it comes after the main act… This last month, with The Ruined House of Skin, was the first time I felt that that was a really big problem – because of breaking the spell.

I should add that I am talking about nature of event, not quality here. But as promoters, should we be trying to describe the different experiences more clearly, put them on in different spaces? And what is it about a space that allows for the deepest journeys on the one hand, and when will a collection of stories sing out best?  Michael Harvey wrote an interesting paper last year about how storytellers need to think to operate in arts centre spaces. Its all useful thinking. But from a promoter’s perspective, rather than asking storytellers to adapt – I find I need to be thinking about how I adapt my events to best suit them – and whether I can develop an audience which is able to listen in a range of different modes.

I adore the idea of it, but I didn’t think I liked it much. I’d been to some slams before I went to America, and my impression was of sitting through a lot of indulgent drivel before you got to anything worth listening to. The one poetry night I made it to in the States was not a good one. But I was fascinated by the way performance poets when they are working well use rhythm. I listened to Mark Smith talking about the US slam scene – the boos, the catcalls, the sheer demand from audiences that their poets work… and I loved the idea. On the internet I found Rives and his Kite. Its beautiful, worth listening right to the end for the moment that matters! Incidentally he also does poetic wrap ups for TED. 

Meanwhile my friend Mark Niel was slamming up a storm, getting so popular that a story/spoken word round I went to recently someone had learnt one of his poems to recite. I made it to the Midlands Poetry Slam that he was MCing back in December, and from there to Rrrants.

Sunday night, squashed in to a room at The Camden Eye – only donations to get in (maybe because most of the audience are also performers) – apparently the drinks were expensive but I wasn’t (drinking) so that didn’t matter. 18 different poets, 5 minutes each first time around, one poem each second time around.  Bloomin’ brilliant night out. So much comedy – but moments of anger and of beauty too.  Only 3 or  poets whose agenda – either political or personal – were too heavy for their weaker skills of expression, and only 1 whose delivery was too heavy for her words. Mostly, really worth listening to. And so many of them that I want to make an effort to see again that I thought I would list my favourites here – in case any of you might feel like heading to a spoken word night sometime soon…

So, in no particular order

Captain of the Rant – proper embodied performance, twisting anger, spitting suffering – maybe OTT for some – I loved it!

The Antipoet –  London punk double bass poetry – proper scornful –  am guessing they’re cabaret scene pleasers as well as spoken word agents

Christian Watson – he has the rythms and pace and pausing and gentle but non cloying heartache I associate with the American scene

Alan Wolfson – easily the most versatile of the evening – from serious, RSC accented, to more casual, finishing off with clever silliness ‘song titles as car adverts’ – where number one is Bohemian Rhapsody (go on, sing the beginning to yourself and find the Ford)

Faye Roberts – a gentle voice in the middle of the storm, personal/autobiographical and beautiful

Sophie Cameron – pure filth in a Lancashire accent whilst looking innocent. It could be just gimmick and gratuitous, but I think actually it’s a bit more than that.

I’ve always loved London best walking her tangled streets soaking up the architectural surprises. I should adore Peter Ackroyd’s writing, and would, if he could stop trying to sound like his conclusions are scientific. But back in 2002 I thought I hated the city as a place to live.

Since I was, at the time, going through a break up with an unemployed partner, a mild online gaming addiction, and a job which started out challenging but became tedious, perhaps the city was not so much the trouble.

I started falling in love with her again before Christmas, and continued this New Year. Partly, it is statues wrapped in plastic on a church near St Pancras, the fact that walking from Embankment to Archway is far from impossible, that pubs all over the city have free and quirky function rooms. But mostly, it has been down to a couple of weeks as a culture vulture.

A  present deal of a show each evening the week before Christmas saw Ben and I watch Bill Bailey with champagne, in a box at Wyndhams (they sell the box tickets only from the theatre, but cheaper than a lot of their other seats). Beautiful theatre, and the sense of occassion was great, and needed, because whilst Bill Bailey is funny, he’s not outstanding, and doesn’t seem to have figured out whether he is asking his audience questions or being rhetorical – whatever you do, don’t let on you recognise his cittern.

Ghost stories would never have been my choice – I can’t watch suspense on TV unless I can pace about the room – but I am so pleased to have seen it. I went in with a critical eye – grumbling about the half hearted attempt to transform the staircases, disappointed by the character acting of the first storyteller – but well before halfway I was a tiny ball of tension, barely able to look at the stage. Had to sleep with the light on. Admittedly, use of intense white light and over loud sound had a lot to do with it. But the craft of the frame narrative is outstanding. I’ll say no more, except if you’re going to see it lastminute.com tickets got us 3rd row seats.

The Glass Menagerie was my introduction to Tennesse Williams at age 15, and I was smitten. What it is about the dissection of the crumbling remnants of the American South that appeals to by middle class england sensibilities I don’t know. But I will only risk productions of his work with very good reviews. The Young Vic had them… but I spent the first 20 minutes on the edge of my seat, terrified the director had made the kind of mistake usually made with Chekov – forgetting to realise the play is funny. After that the audience warmed up, the actors’ timing seemed to get better – and it was every bit the broken squawking thing it should be.

The fourth night of the week involved going to see the weak, blatantly evangelising Voyage of the Dawn Treader. Only because Ben just finished up a stint as animation director on a trailor for Skullduggery Pleasant and there were a limited number of Cinemas with showings.

Cultural consumption continued in the first week of January, with Rrrants at the Camden Eye. They get their own post, because I was so surprised and excited about it…   This followed up with Old Nick – a selection of Devil stories launching the 2011 Crick Crack Club program at the Soho Theatre… Tim Ralphs was particularly spectacular and versatile… a lilting, lyrical Merlin piece and a mash up of traditional devil stories, and an encounter with Old Nick in snake form in the vegetable section of the supermarket. Clare Murphy charmed the audience with her physical characterisations – especially Eve and the Devil’s baby, whilst Ben Haggarty in MC mode provided a dashing classic fairy tale devil.

Onto the next night – tracking down Xanthe Gresham trying out her latest work – an simple exploration of the Tempest – gentler than some of the Goddess pieces, and more traditional.

Could I live in the city again? maybe? Can I afford to? I don’t know… but less than a month ago I hadn’t even realised it might be a goal.

But, arriving late at Whitby in April 2009, I catapulted into Abney Park’s set and fell in love with Steam Punk. Then Ben saw the photos of Mr Bill Thomas in his diving suit and we both developed a yen to attend a White Mischief event.

The Eve of Tomorrow ball was a bit of a surprise – 1930′s rather than the classic victoriana of steampunk  - but with a  Trailer suggesting something a little more than just an ordinary theme party, and the fact that even V.I.P. tickets and suitable costuming put together were cheaper than my other plan of trying to go to Marrakech and we were bound for the headquarters of the R Frend Corporation.

I loved the touches of a location undisclosed ’til just before, I got a kick out of walking past a ticket queue and was impressed by the columns in the entrance hall of the Bloomsbury Ballroom. The true art decor of the interior was less impressive – lit for cabaret and dancing, the hall was not shown off to its best – but then the focus was on the cabaret and the guests by then – and they really were worth it.   There were FBI agents, workers in baker boy hats, flappers, and debutantes. There were a whole host of time refugees from the Victorian period – as you might expect for an event that is usually Steampunk – and one or two tables of VIP’s who spanned time, but made very credible airship crews. I envied those young and thin enough to cram themselves into true 30′s style dresses – but on the whole, one of the key things for me was that the demographic felt good – ranging from much younger to much older than our middle age (I still work on three score and ten, thus I am into my second year of middle age).  The photos online so far don’t really give the flavour of the evening – but costume porn was a big reason for attending, and the event delivered!

Another reason for being there was a chance to show off some of Ben’s work, so I got to parade around with amazing dieselpunk bodymods. Success! The first comment I got when I walked in was a delightfully in character “I’ve travelled world, and thats the most unusual thing I’ve seen so far”. This to be followed by people asking if they could touch them, and how much they hurt.

They were of course, a masterpiece of latex, collodion, cheap gem stones, snaz and profix – the photo doesn’t really do it justice.

I was also intrigued to see some UK cabaret. Dusty Fields was a top compere, the audience adored him, and he handled interaction with recorded screen characters really nicely; I liked Polly Rae’s work with feather fans, but I’m always looking for burlesque with that little bit more – shock, satire or surprise to add to the strip. The best thing about the 30′s theme for me was so much swing – whether it was the My Gosh Marvellous band, or the range of DJ’s. The other cabaret acts… mostly a bit meh (which has nothing to do with the quality of the event and all to do with me trying to work out whether I like cabaret) – though the pair of dancers inside silver ducting make a great stumble on event when they are loose in the room rather than on stage – and I’d love to see them at street theatre festivals.

Then, then, there was the big question, the question of the narrative. The party had narrative running on two levels – a story that was touted in the pre publicity and got me very excited about possibilities for gaming in a non gaming environment, and displayed on stage – a vid screen telecommunication device being launched, and subsequent messages from the future – which everyone watching the cabaret saw – and a mini interactive game you could join in by taking playing cards from one character you met to another. It was ambitious to fit into a New Year’s party – and I can only applaud that ambition. The recorded sections, the character actors I engaged with – the set up of the corporation and employee malcontent were all great. But it ran into a few flaws – some could have been avoided – others make me question whether New Year is the right time to run a narrative in a party – either as a story to be witnessed or one to be played with.

For the avoidable…

The interactive part of the game led directly to a milling situation. Mills (where people bunch together and wander round, only sort of knowing what they are doing) should always be avoided in games, but  if milling occurs, it should never be put on view of spectators. This mill stormed the cabaret stage. It could have been given things to hold (‘power cables’ or something) leaving just the lead character actor invade – better for players and non players alike.

A major turning point (possibly the climax, but I’m old, tired and wimped out at about 2.30pm so I’m not sure) in the plot (both the one the spectators were viewing and the one the players were playing) involved a machine being destroyed. A big one. In full view of the crowds.  If you’re going to have people destroy the mcguffin, make sure it blows up noisily and brightly – flash paper and sound effects if you need to keep the actual item intact.  (It is just possible that the attempt failed and it wasn’t destroyed – but the screen did go dark  - unfortunately with a mill on stage, communicating story clearly was not easy)

Finally, if you are the unfortunate compere that has this situation on the cabaret stage, it may seem funny to make wank gestures and tell the rest of the audience that these people are just roleplayers – but if you do that you’ve just undermined the entire narrative part of the event, and made your customers (even those, like me, who had extricated myself from the mill recognising it for what it was, and actually trying to play a game more complex than the one written – I was vaguely testing the edges of the game and looking for someone to warn in game about the approaching mill at the time) feel angry and embarrassed. Difficult situation to be in, appreciated – but almost anything else would have been a better reaction.

The lingering questions…

Even if those pitfalls had been avoided, if the simple pass the card narrative had had puzzle tasks in that might have captured a wider range of imaginations than just those that wanted to roleplay, could it have worked at an event of this scale. Because we are talking about an ‘I don’t know how many people’ party – where the majority agenda is partying and looking good.

I think it must be possible, on a random party night, to have a narrative enhance an event rather than intrude on it. I know J and H have some ideas (and put together the producer of one of London’s most popular cabaret nights in 09 and 10 who just happens to be both a gamer and someone with 2 or 3 years of running a club under his belt, with the man behind the gameplayof the big new hit on the LRP scene in 2010, and wonderful things could happen) but I’m not sure they plan to do anything right now. I have thoughts, but no experience in the club scene, and probably not enough will power.

But I ramble – my real big revelation from last week is that New Year is a really bad time. New Year has its own narrative. It is a simple plot, but it comes complete with turning point and transformation. We might be at a theme party – but we’re there to celebrate the beginning of 2011. In our heads, we each have our own narrative about what that means. On a small scale, you might get a group of people not so interested in the New Year narrative and prepared to play with a different one. On a large scale – there’s a clash.

So will I be at more White Mischief events – hell, yes! Do I want to attempt running games within parties? Of course I do, though I fear the need to break even or make profit would shatter my dreams. Have I turned into a New Year partygoer? No. no and no…. my goal for 2012 and forever after is to be working on New Years Eve – maybe starting with taking Pigs and Lords of Misrule to the streets of Bucharest…

I read and watched Armistead Maupin obsessively one summer a lifetime ago, I think in South Ealing, but it might have been somewhere else in West London. So I was conditioned to love San Francisco and I did. From walking up to the Green Tortoise one evening, to visiting the Coit Tower the next day. Didn’t even make it to the top because of the queues – just transfixed by the power of the fresco art.  Then, walked down from the tower into the steep garden streets of “Tales from the City” and was hooked.  Managed to see the sea lions, walk in golden gate park, and up and down a lot of the tram trailed hills, as well as eating a lot of bagels and seeing some very good Theatresports at Batsimprov (possibly more on why it was good sometime)  and some very poor Dario Fo (actually I’m not sure whether even very good Can’t Pay, Won’t Pay would work out of the context Fo created it in).

Was great to meet up with a San Francisco drama teacher and storyteller who I met in the UK last year, Rich Silberg, and get to tell at his school in Berkeley – where I found myself really using the space in order to refocus attention – running up and down steps in between stories! The school also has an edible schoolyard policy, so I spent my lunchbreak being attacked by chickens. Good food (Rich’s wife Laura works at this amazing co-op) and great company made a nice switching point before heading out to Yosemite.

Staying between Yosemite and Mariposa, at a mixed hostel/cabin site with great cake and good fires, we only made it into Yosemite itself for one day. I don’t have a great calling to go back (unless I can persuade the Ahwahnee Lodge to book me to tell in front of their fireplace someday – the park ranger we saw doing so had some sweet stories, and was really interesting as a conversational teller of park information after his performance – but just didn’t have the energy working right to entertain against such an impressive backdrop).

It isn’t that I wasn’t impressed. Yosemite is a powerful place. We walked to close to the foot of the upper falls and listened to the ice cracking. We ignored the “danger beyond this point” sign and scrambled over the ancient rockfall until we could feel the spray from the lower falls, and see the ice chunks floating in the pool below. If I hadn’t had sunglasses on and grown prematurely concerned at the fading light, I could have enjoyed the view of half dome peak in mirror lake for a good long time. But I didn’t like it.

I like my landscapes of a certain scale. Wild yes. Other yes. But in the Lake District or Snowdonia I can stand (a little way back from the edge) and let the wind blow through me, and feel part of the place. In Yosemite I felt like an intruder. And not in the post-colonial guilt sense either – a reaction to the scale and geometry I think, more than the history.

One day wasn’t enough really, but snow covered the meadows and the route to the sequoia groves, and I am not a snow creature. Besides there was a storytelling festival to get to. Mariposa. More on that another time perhaps.