Category: Conspirators

An interview with a laser

Almost fourteen years ago, in the summer of a quieter and cooler world, I seized upon a social media post from my old friend John suggesting that a musician who lived in my city might want to play his game Lady Blackbird. I can run Lady Blackbird, I typed into a vanished website. Okay, a stranger responded. In this now-antique fashion I gained a new friend, whose nom de loi is Laser, and whose work I have followed with joy and admiration ever since.

Because Laser, despite gaining world-trotting fame and keeping very cool company, will still return my text messages, I thought I would press my luck and send him some questions to officially (?) make this series something that I do maybe (??). The following has been edited for tk tk tk come up with joke later. Hyperlinks are my own; photos are not.


Laser with a guitar in front of a dressing room mirror

I’m maybe trying out this thing on my blog where I interview people about their tastes without ever actually using the word “masculinity” but just dance around it instead and then trust that both of my readers will get bored and close the tab before they realize that I’m trying this hard to be oblique and clever. So I guess my first question is, how come when you wear a black vest over a black shirt with a contrast tie you look like you might be in Superchunk, and when I do it I look like a wedding DJ who plays all the novelty songs back to back?

A lot of it is swagger, unfortunately.

Laser with Charlie James wearing a black shirt and vest with a contrast tie, and also 'swagger'

Bless you for the succinctness of this answer. I feel as if I have been struck apart by a katana so razor-sharp that I will not topple into two cleanly separated halves for an unknown length of time. While I await my doom… your new podcast, Not Real Men, has recently covered a couple of important topics: perseverance in the face of abrupt sociopolitical trauma overload by finding a niche to make a difference, and also Chad, the imaginary testosterone dude who lives in your brain and tries to seize the steering wheel of your libido. Who’s the most boinkable actor in your personal history of cinema, and would they post bad takes on the internet? Has this answer changed over time?

Laser next to Captain Phasma (I think?) with the caption Not Real Men: The Podcast

most boinkable? oh wow. I mean, colin firth is top always. I like to believe he would be wildly strong while also checking in constantly. He stays away from the internet, fortunately. this hasn’t really changed over time, I think because it’s easier to gain an imaginary crush, like music taste, when you are 14 and your brain is soft and nothing is real.

Speaking of movies, which I did because I wanted to ask this question, what kind of film nerd have you turned into? Like, we originally met because we both wanted to play a tabletop RPG that was more or less Firefly fanfic, which is in turn Star Wars fanfic, which is in turn kind of Kurosawa fanfic; these days I myself enjoy spending attention on Kurosawa more than I do on Star Wars. Meanwhile you live in LA, travel the world doing original shows, and probably hang out with a lot more working filmmakers than I do. What kind of work from the past do you like to study? What’s a movie or show you’re looking forward to in the future?

I do not really watch a lot of movies because sitting down to watch something is hard (ADHD) and exploring new stories is stressful (autism). But I do hang out with filmmakers, and when they make something that is really, really, personal, I like it. My favorite movie is Ghostbusters: Answer the Call because it shows the most realistic funny women I’ve seen (eating pizza) and all the men are stupid, which is a huge relief to me. I saw Wicked twice in theaters. I’m looking forward to Wicked part 2. I like it when people sing in theaters.

Speaking of tabletop RPGs, which I did because I wanted to ask this question, what secret ideas do you have in the back of your mind for an actual play series? What system would you want to use for it, and what tiny pet peeve of yours about the existing landscape of gameplay media would it fix?

I am not the target audience for Actual Play. Possibly I am spoiled because I have plenty of people to play games with, but honestly I don’t need to watch Actual Play – if I wanted to sit quietly while other people take their turns playing a game, I would just invite 4-5 people over to my home. SORRY.

I do enjoy improv because I love being bewildered by the act of creation, so when people play Fiasco or other rules-light games, I’m very, very in. I did produce an all-trans actual play series a couple years ago called Strumpets and Flagons, and that was a delight. That fixed the problem of non-trans people talking. I’ve really enjoyed watching Dimension 20 — primarily because it is edited. I guess my dream actual-play show would be a season of Dimension 20 with an all-transmasc cast aggressively flirting with Brennan Lee Mulligan. Like Dungeons and Drag Queens for boys.

Laser smiling next to Brennan Lee Mulligan

I remembered that you once had a Fiasco podcast, which is what inspired this question, but despite my best efforts to follow your work I did not know about Strumpets and Flagons! I really like how you phrased being bewildered by the act of creation. Do you ever feel bewilderment in retrospect when you revisit your old songs or other creative work? Alternatively: can you give me any advice on how to develop taste without also cultivating chagrin toward one’s younger self?

Haha – I mean I am impressed with the young version of myself. He wrote over one hundred songs. What a talented, hard-working freak! I do need to take a couple years at least to look back on my art and enjoy it… but the further away I am, the more I am truly impressed.

I think there was a wonderful advantage that younger me had, lacking the self-censorship that comes from being rejected by gatekeepers, from being around people who are judgy about other people’s art, from having a lot of negative youtube comments thrown at him. He just made stuff that made him happy and it was so much easier for him than for me.

Laser smiling in a very classy rugby shirt

A lack of self-judgment is a huge gift. You have to make a lot of “bad” things to make good things… but also… some simple things are good. So why don’t you just make things and watch the puzzle fall into place? HUH? BRENDAN?!!! And don’t forget that you need to listen to the people who are encouraging you. When you don’t believe in yourself, you’re calling them liars. Don’t do that to people who love you!

Well, on that note, many years ago you had me moderate a panel for your band at Stumptown Comic Con, and I was so delighted and proud to even have been asked. Then you continued to be a musician for many years without requesting that I represent you in any way ever again, which was undoubtedly wise. Can you think of other areas of taste you have developed by learning from mistakes?

Hahaha I love you Brendan, you are incredible, and I am sure I only didn’t ask you again because I wasn’t given the chance to pick my own moderator. Also I got very tired of doing panels. Because of you. And how much asking you to moderate was a huge mistake. Wait…

I’ll be honest, I don’t spend a lot of time dwelling on “mistakes,” I like to think of them as “lessons.” Living a life with regret as an option just makes decisions harder to make—and when I was a full-time self-employed artist, everything is always a difficult decision with high stakes. But I have learned many things. Be nice to the sound guy, even when he is clearly a sexist prick. Make a schedule that leaves lots of time for flexibility. Give yourself a little treat when things go wrong. Don’t write songs just because you think other people will like them.

Laser standing in the sea with a shark fin behind him, with a trans flag and a caption reading "A Shark Ate My Penis"

The more specific you are when you write, even to the point of being specific only to yourself — the more relatable it will be, and the more other people relating to it will mean to you. If like 30%+ of your fans are trans, you are too, actually. And also 20% more of them are closeted trans people. Figure out ways to collaborate that don’t involve you bankrupting yourself (this is not a thing I am good at). Keep all of your emails and documents somewhere searchable. Live, laugh, love.


Laser in a windowpane suit, grinning with a microphone on a stage

Laser showing off tattoos with a denim shirt and a dragon jacket

Three Lasers superimposed on each other with a microphone in front of a red velvet curtain

Laser wearing a crown

Laser with his boyfriend Maddox and a dog in a sweater of unknown provenance

Laser with Charlie James at standup microphones on stage

Laser doing social media poses with Amy Vorpahl and a Tyrannosaur

Laser with blurry rope lights and a cigar in the black-on-black outfit, looking more like Groucho than a member of Superchunk

Laser in a black shirt and black vest with a contrast tie

Dual Reflections on Cruel Intentions

It’s time once again for Reel 90s Kids, the podcast you have forgotten that we did one time! We have now done it again. Here is the audio click button thing that tells you the wrong file duration, and below it are the show notes.

Audio Player

0:00 – Thanks to Oliver Schories for this episode’s intro song, which I think has a 40% chance of deeply irritating my cohost.

5:23 – I could put links to the Wikipedia articles for Les Liaisons Dangereuses and Dangerous Liaisons here, but you can type names into Wikipedia as well as I can.

8:37 – A 1954 Jaguar Roadster.

10:48 – Sorry, Mr. Lester.

12:41 – Shooter the 2007 movie; Shooter the 2016 TV series. Since we recorded this episode, USA has apparently decided we’ve had a long enough gap between mass shootings to actually premiere and air it! Yaaaay

17:03 – Judge for yourself.

19:03 – I cannot put anything about the confluence of Bittersweet Symphony and Shakespeare in Love in the show notes, because my brain completely manufactured it. Why did I think this was a thing?! If you have a clue, please call our toll-free line.

20:13 – Audio taken from this Fusion interview.

22:48 – Movie studios were forced to stop running their own theaters by United States v. Paramount Pictures, Inc, in 1948.

24:36 –

28:44 – The eclectic production history of Cruel Intentions 2, a “2000 American comedy-drama prequel.”

31:13 – I neglected to congratulate her, but Anne batted a thousand on these!

35:55 – The Deadline story in question. Alas, Cruel Intentions was not picked up to series after all.

37:35 – See you back here for the Drive Me Crazy episode in June 2019!

38:11 – And thanks to Jade Berlin and her terrifying accompanist for our outro music:

A Timely Varsity Blues Podcast

Kids dressed up like the characters from Varsity Blues. It's cute

Apparently the thing I do here now is, once a year, post a podcast I made with friends about a movie that already came out. This time I made one with my friend Anne! It’s about the non-classic 90s Teen Film Varsity Blues, for no clear reason that either of us could recall. Despite our claims at the beginning, we DID think of a belated title for it: Reel 90s Kids.

Because we remember.

I’m not going to link to the site we discuss for the latter half of the podcast because I don’t want to make anyone’s life sadder, including yours. I have faith in your ability to find it if you want to. Please don’t. Special thanks to small genius Aidan James for our outro music!

Audio Player

By now all this is past the point of relevance

But it needs to get written down anyway. On Saturday morning, September 7th, I woke up feeling grumpy about the way nerds had treated my friend Elizabeth and made the following series of ill-advised tweets.

If you see the numbers under those widgets you can see that they became the most far-reaching things I have ever written. I did not plan for that. They were tossed off, poorly thought out, and not particularly intended to stand in the record. This took a while to dawn on me, and when it did, I considered deleting them. I chose not to mostly because it wouldn’t undo anything, and because I should be held to account for my words.

I failed as an ally and a writer in several ways by writing what I did. The most significant and glaring is that I didn’t ask Elizabeth before posting them. That’s enormous. She and I had talked privately about the abuse she was getting, so it was on my mind, and I am so used to violent misogyny being directed at women who point out flaws in popular culture that I failed to consider her public stance about it. But even if she had discussed the hate more openly, I still should have asked. At the very least I should have reconsidered using her twitter handle, which made it even easier for a new wave of garbage to find her.

Also, as several people have pointed out, those three tweets are not exactly an iron syllogism. Elizabeth wrote a strongly worded post taking a strong stance against PAX; all I did was briefly express disappointment. I still think someone with a feminine name and icon would have received more abuse than I did for that tweet, but I certainly am not doing the kind of work Elizabeth does, and should not have tried to accord myself her stature.

There are other things about my phrasing with which one might well take issue, but those two are the most basic and important: I didn’t show my friend the respect she deserves. I can’t undo that, but the least I can do is point out for other people who want to be allies where I went wrong. I hope this helps someone else avoid a similar mistake in the future, especially if that someone is me.

As for the original matter of the controversy, I’ve been wrestling with it, but the simplest way to put it is that I take a version of Elizabeth’s view. I’m not going to PAX in 2014, I’m definitely not volunteering there, and I won’t be back unless and until they demonstrate change from the top down. It won’t be enough for PAX to come up to the standard of games conventions; from here on they’ll have to be twice as good as everyone else to make me consider attending.

I have dear friends in and around the Penny Arcade organization, many of whom work tirelessly to create safe space, and I’m not going to spurn you or your work for being involved with PAX. But I will say that attending any conference without a clear, detailed, rigorously enforced harassment policy is a bad idea. PAX rose to that standard in 2012, but when internal pressure from the volunteer corps relented this year, they failed again. That alone is a valid reason to stay away.

Some people can’t do that. PAX is a big part of how money works in games, and if the choice is between taking a stance and making your rent this year, I don’t have the moral authority to stand in judgment. I hope you’ve got other avenues for promotion too, though. I won’t see you there.

This isn’t even counting BAX, which would technically make this year’s begin in fucking February

There’s this thing called con season. It is mostly called that by people who make and sell things at conventions, which are warm-weather phenomena, beginning in March of each year and winding down in the autumn. I don’t currently sell things, but I find myself talking about it anyway, because con season has been the dictator of my travel plans for several years running.

There’s Gamestorm twenty minutes north of me, in Vancouver, Washington, and then there’s a local house-sized gathering called Nemocon in May. June sometimes has a Fabricated Realities in Olympia and always (I hope) has Go Play Northwest in Seattle. This year, for the first time, I am flying to Indianapolis to go to the nerd-gathering granddaddy, Gen Con. (It’s hard to explain exactly why I’m going in much the same way that it is hard to explain why Indianapolis holds a convention named for Lake Geneva, Wisconsin.) And then there’s PAX in September, and Geek Girl Con the month after that, unless I go to Indiecade too–and then at last we rest. Until it starts again.

It’s kind of grueling. I’m going to have to cut back in 2014: I want to travel more outside the US, and save money, and this shit devours that budget. But what do I cut? The answer would be easier if “what” didn’t so easily swap out for “whom.”

There are a lot of variations on the con circuit: some people do tech conferences, some people do sci-fi cons, some people do cultural gatherings or music festivals or films and documentaries. All these gatherings have a rationale for getting lots of people together at a specific time and place, but over time, I suspect, the rationale becomes just that. I used to go to gaming conventions to play as many games as I could fit into a weekend. Now I play games at gaming conventions because that’s what my friends are doing.

Weddings, funerals and cons. You don’t get together just to do the thing, you get together because the thing you do is the way to concentrate as many of these far-flung people as you can. Many of the people I love are locative: available in a specific place at at specific time and then too quickly dispersed. Jackson and Avery and Joe and PH and Matthew and Chris and Elizabeth and John and Shannon and Paul and Tony and Daniel and Twyla and Andi and Ryan and Lily and Will and Lisa and everyone I’m forgetting and everyone I have yet to meet. We only get so many rounds of this, in the warm season of our lives, and it’s hard to think about missing any of them.

Sandbank Diner

For my 10,000th tweet I created the monster called RealBrendan. When I noticed that I was approaching 15,000, I wanted to do something along the same lines, if possibly a bit less splashy and horrifying. I’d been playing around with the “real name” field on my Twitter profile, disturbing a lot of people by changing it to Dank Nerd Basin (an all-too-accurate anagram of Brendan Adkins). When I went to visit New York last weekend—a great trip I should really write up here as well—Leonard, who was also graciously hosting me, helped me unlock this particular weird joke.

I’ve crowdsourced my name. If you mention @BrendanAdkins in a tweet, and if there are 20 or fewer characters in that tweet (ignoring URLs and usernames), and if those characters contain a B, R, E, D, A and two Ns, the new bot will pick it up and set my “real name” to that. It checks in ten times an hour, and it takes the most recent valid submission.

A lot of people were doing full anagrams or superset-anagrams yesterday, which were delightful—And Snark In Bed, Nard Skin Benda, Danken d-brains, Kind Banner Ads, BADSKINNY DICKKISSER—but you don’t have to work “Adkins” into it at all if you don’t want to. As of this writing, it’s “Brendan poops?!?” and I encourage you to make it anything else as soon as possible. (THANKS, ANNE.)

It’s actually “Twitters Brendan”

When I was a kid I had asthma. Growing up largely fixed that, but I still got attacks when I went running in cold weather; since running is the only exercise I enjoy or have ever been good at, I got into the habit of slacking off as the weather got colder. In late fall, for many years, I’d slip into a comfortable lethargy, stop caring about what I ate or how much I moved, and gain a bunch of weight that I’d then try to work off in the spring.

After I started recognizing this pattern I wanted to change it. Because the only motivation I understand is self-mockery on the Internet, last September I made a new Twitter account, WinterBrendan. I’d post as him when I caught myself in moments of sloth, gluttony and self-loathing. He hasn’t actually written that much, which is a good thing! It kind of worked, and I ate a lot better and worked out more (aided by the fact that I figured out how to run without asthma, which deserves its own post).

But WinterBrendan was only the beginning.

Within two weeks of his appearance, SOMEONE WHO SHALL NOT BE NAMED created SpringBrendan, which is the worst thing that has ever happened. SpringBrendan is a machine gun of incredibly lewd jokes, which, well, fine, except all those jokes have my face on them and people instinctively believe I am writing them. The worst part is that he’s fucking hilarious. The only thing worse than people scolding you for coming up with horrible things is people praising you for coming up with horrible things when you did not, and indeed could not.

There are apparently people who still don’t believe I don’t write SpringBrendan. Look! Here! I AM NOT SPRINGBRENDAN. YOU CAN TELL BECAUSE HE IS FUNNY, AND LIKES HIMSELF.

Unfortunately everyone else likes him too. Around the time this was going on, I realized I was coming up on my ten thousandth tweet. Because my friends (and their friends, and total strangers) seemed to enjoy seeing my face plastered on any old garbage, I took a grumpy few hours and wrote my first Twitter client, RealBrendan. It was pretty simple: a text box that hooked up to my actual account and posted whatever you typed. My 9,999th tweet was a link to it, and my 10,000th was “Go.” Then I went to lunch with a friend.

When I got back I was in Twitter jail.

As soon as people realized it was legit, they had unleashed a hideous torrent of raw, anonymous Internet. I once thought of my followers as a carefully curated selection of clever, thoughtful people with taste; now I know better. RealBrendan only went silent when it hit the ceiling for allowable-tweets-per-hour, which turns out to be 128. I got a lot of texts along the lines of “are you okay???” and “WHAT ARE DOING, TURN OFF,” and one person even figured out how to send DMs as me. Exciting! (If you authorize the Exquisite Tweets app, you can read a complete archive of the horror.)

I revoked the app and was allowed back on Twitter the following morning. I did feel a certain sick fascination with what had happened the day before, so I tinkered with the machinery so that it would maintain a queue and post at a more reasonable rate, then hooked it up to its own new account. Once people figured out there was no more immediate gratification, the torrent dropped to a trickle, but now there’s this kind of anonymous group-fiction thing going and it’s kind of fun.

Because ideas are unkillable, there are other accounts as well, and once again I DO NOT CONTROL ANY OF THEM. Summer called them Brendan-shards, which prompted me to start thinking of them as my Horcruxes, because it would be awfully hard to track them all down and also each one represents a horrific murder. They are GrampaBrendan, JoelBrendan and BrendansMcdald, and I strongly encourage you not to follow any them. Or the other ones. Or the actual BrendanAdkins, really.

Please RT.

I had a deep and personal talk with a dear friend, electrocuted dozens of middle schoolers for science, ate fresh bread and good cheese, played on swings and left treasures in a protogeocache, watched earnest college students (SO YOUNG) sing Doctor Horrible, ran a personal best 10k next to a pretty girl I hadn’t seen in years, cooked a giant lunch, took a walk in the sunshine, and spent hours at Planet Motherfucker eating incredible barbecue and laughing with smart people. I am very lucky. This was a good weekend.