Love Life Continued

My main/gaming PC is currently under repairs, which has been odd. Using a netbook for my primary PC purposes means I haven’t had access to Illustrator, but that should hopefully be fixed soon. Meanwhile, my thoughts are often with Love Life and how I wish to progress.

Among my next steps is to actually go in Illustrator and design out the board so that people have a visual, and so that I can make a vector image so as to know on what scale I wish to be working. The materials for making a physical copy sit in a box (oh hey, I recently moved), so once I get everything finished, it’s just measuring, cutting, baking the moving pieces, et cetera. I started a Google Wave to update on progress, though my own updates on it have been sporadic at best. The more I talk about it, the more I push myself into actually finishing this project, however.
Back in January I took out a notepad and scribbled down two drawings–it was amusing to use geometry, considering I hadn’t in ages.

Image 1:

This was a simple measurement to figure out how many pieces I wanted in my clock, 24 to represent the hours in a day. From there I figured out the degree my triangles would take. As you see, there is a bisection, because the right half is not needed–or so I thought, but more on that in a moment.
The note below it reads: “Creates segmented look, breaking smooth 360 degree circle. Life is not smooth. Discrete days contribute to flow, but is distinct.” The decision for a segmented look was a practical one that later made sense in how I wished to portray the game–since I will be making the first copies by hand, having a full circle would make creating it a bit more difficult. I also believe the segmented look will contribute to the idea that while this is a clock, what is being represented is as much about an hour as it is about a day–events. While they all lead into each other and contribute to the whole, they are not one giant mass. They are each their own self-contained story contributing to the greater whole.
Image 2:
Here is where I focus on the actual pieces, figuring out the angles the four point would need. This little rhombus also gave me a basic understanding of the type of scale at which I was looking, though not providing any actual numbers.
Originally, I was going to only use the left half of the piece, ignoring what would be the center of the circle, or the right half of what I’ve illustrated. The original concept of the game was such that the couple who was playing, after one became terminally ill, would drift apart physically on the board. It occurred to me that this was an inelegant solution for two reasons:
1. It required more math than was necessary (and besides, I want to switch from using dice to color-coding the board and using a spinner–so as to simplify the game, and focus on the storytelling).
2. This is not always the case. I believe I want to change the rules so that at any time, one or the other of the partners could decide that they wanted to leave the relationship–or they could go on together. However, instead of ending the game through this departure, I wanted to reintegrate the inner circle.
The inner circle already has its math drawn out, so I just need to incorporate it into my design and not just cut it out to leave it to be discarded. The other reason for this becomes symbolic–as they go on through their life, they go through circles, yes, but ever tighter ones where the focus is much more rapid, and the inevitable becomes clear. It becomes a downward spiral the players are forced to traverse.
The other concept on which I was thinking was how to make this a more inclusive game. As it stands, the stories told are wholly separate from those surrounding them. I have always observed people, and among the things I observe is that while couples often have a tendency to seclude themselves away, when they do often socialize, it comes in groups with other couples, or people in relationships. This is why, with only four colors on the board, it seemed perfectly conceivable to expand the storytelling aspect so that if all parties agreed, if two parties are on the same color, the one who lands on it second can expand on the story of the first.
An example: let us say that the couple prior had landed on a space to allow themselves to tell a story whereby they went to a class together to learn more about cooking; the second couple, once they landed on a similar space, could then add they were in the class and interact with the former couple, adding both another perspective, and building on the concept of communal storytelling.
The purpose of this is also devious, to be honest. I wondered how much people would be affected by the death of a couple whom they barely knew. Human interaction colors how we react to events, and if there is a tendency for everyone to be involved with each others’ stories, I believe the end goal of the game, one person’s death, would have more of an impact.
Just further thoughts I have now recorded.
Now to replace the fan and secondary hard drive on this PC.

About Denis Farr

Writer interested in intersectionality, games, comics, nerdy stuff in general, theater, and how it all mixes. Graduate of Wabash College, with studies in Theater, English, German, and Gender Studies.
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