Charles Mosteller

Welcome to Play by Mail gaming as we know it, as we experience it, as we live it. This place, dimension, this plane of existence where we suspend disbelief at will. For us, gaming reality is a dated experience. We’re stuck in a time loop. Honestly, we’ll never reach tomorrow.

But that’s just it - we don’t have to.

Things are as they are. GMs are who they are. Companies are the sum totality of what they aspire to be. What more could you as? It’s a perfect recipe for chaos.

And if there’s anything that gets my attention, it’s chaos. This isn’t Goldilocks and the Three Bears. It’s never gonna be “just right.” Too much of this, too little of that. The harsh reality of it all is that PBM gaming is a fairly barren landscape, yet it’s a landscape that has some glimmers of hope scattered throughout it. A slight improvement here, a nudge towards progress over there. And it moves at a glacial pace, if it moves, at all.

Me? I run in spurts. Sometimes, it’s long spurts. Other times, it’s short spurts. Bursts of energy. It only lasts so long, though. Gotta grab what you can, while it lasts.

It’s better than nothing. Or maybe not. Perhaps perspective is the real judge of that. You got a better way? Then let’s see it. Put it into motion. Bring it into reality. Rise to the occasion!

Otherwise, sit your ass back and enjoy the show.

This ain’t Candyland, people. No one rules the roost, here. None of us are slaves to PBM orthodoxy. What worked decades ago may not work, today - or at a bare minimum, it may not work as well, today, as it did back then.

And progress? Well, things that get called progress or are sometimes referred to as progress, where PBM gaming is concerned, may ultimately turn out to be anything but.

So, leave your websites the same. Keep on doing things the same old way. Experiment where you can, where you’re able, where you’re willing. Me? I do my own thing, whatever that “PBM thing” is, whatever it turns out to be.

You can either get off here, or you can tag along for the ride. That choice is yours. It always has been. It always will be.

And if any of you see Richard Weatherhead, tell him I’ll be by to pick him up. It’s what he’s been waiting for.