Series: September 2007 Archives
Imagine a scene in your head. I'm sitting in some large conference room with some ad agency representing some client. I fire up my Powerpoint and explain my strategy to use unspeakable horror and some of the darker emotions in the artistic palatte to tell a story about the risks we don't pay attention to. I get to the slide where I'm supposed to make the argument that helps them sell more LimeWidgets. I click "next" and there is nothing but a blank slide, mocking me and my stupid idea.
Then I wake up and remember that the heart of independence is that I don't have to get anyone's permission to do Eldritch Errors. I don't have to have a sponsor. I don't have to convince someone of the marketing efficiency of the storyline. In fact, if I really think my idea is any good, I should be able to figure out how to wring a return on that investment myself inserting LimeWidgets, GrapeWidgets or brand new SchmeldritchWidgets I come up with myself.
There are certainly advantages to getting someone to say "yes" because frequently the question they are answering is "will you give me money to do this wacky thing that we think we can convince you will work?" It also means that someone else's goals become central priorities in that new collaboration ... which begs the question: if we didn't have to incorporate other goals, what would be our priorities for establishing our own goals?
During the initial pilot, we were purposefully mysterious about exactly what Eldritch Errors was. Most of our need to define it initially was motivated by making sure that fictional threats weren't mistaken for real threats. Now our need is motivated by helping new participants and the press make sense of what Eldritch Errors is, which requires a little more finesse and a little less mystery. The first 8 questions in the new "frequently asked questions" list we're building focus on the basics:
In October 2006, we started laying our plans for an episodic, immersive narrative experience: a thriller about security, nightmares, suffering, hopelessness and Pandora's boxes all rolled together through the lens of H.P. Lovecraft's "weird fiction" legacy. In April 2007, Eldritch Errors launched with a flurry of strange packages, cryptic Craigslist ads from a goth psychic plagued by nightmares, and a bickering community of Internet security experts. By the time you encounter this blog in early September 2007, we'll have reached the end of the "first book" in this on-going series, "The Providence Prophecies," and be entering the "first interlude" -- the less narratively intense breathers in between books.
Schmeldritch is something that happens in between the episodes of Eldritch. It is an opportunity to share some tidbits from behind the scenes and some "how to" tutorials for other immersive narrativists dissecting the production. It is a place to discuss intent and theory with the participants, the audience and the broader community of other experimental storytellers. We have a substantial two-year arc sketched out for Eldritch, so there will always be a huge number of topics that we choose to keep tight-lipped about (we don't want to ruin any surprises.) What we post here at Eldritch, though, is meant to stimulate discussion (don't be shy at striking up conversations with us in the comments!)
Interludes aren't particularly long, though. And once the interlude is over and the more intense action starts unfolding again, Schmeldritch will be a quiet place until the next interlude.