My memories flicker in my brain like a film strip. The accompanying cassette speaks to me on each still, voicing over the events until that sound. That dreaded BEEP to remind the sleepy teenager next to the projector to rotate to the next still.
There is no clear order for the stills. I don't know what comes next as each beep rings out. But I know something is coming because the cassette doesn't really have an end. It just asks you to flip over to the other side to continue.
Over and over again the cassette gets flipped and the film strip never runs out. My memories are a science class run by a substitute teacher dozing in the corner. The tinny voice of the mono speaker reminding me of each moment. Just barely keeping me awake in the dark, too warm room.
BEEP
Dice rattle on a standing table in a crowded convention hall. The air is both cold and warm from the struggling AC fighting with the thousands of bodies generating heat. Heat and sweat, which stinks. It just stinks.
But the dice rattle and you shout a retort as blades are drawn. For the first time you remember roleplaying being given teeth. The clever thing you say strikes a point towards resolving who gets the sword. It is going to be you or the dwarf.
Fuck that dwarf.
BEEP
It is warm fall evening, so the garbage smell is so strong you can taste it. It is distracting, but you ignore it as you stalk the streets of Manhattan. The conversation is too good. No one writes a game based on the lyrics of a heavy metal track. It is bleak and wild, and you can't stop asking questions.
Not as you dodge drivers. Not as you pay for tickets. Not until Tears of the Black Tiger starts playing on the screen can you shut up. You gotta play Under the Serpent Sun.
BEEP
Who knew meeting a new Burning Wheel gaming group would be like going on a blind date? When you were a kid, it was just your existing friends you tapped. As an adult, you get introduced, arrange a meet at a neutral location, and see if you're compatible.
So here you are at a bar on Chicago ave looking for three dudes. At least they wanted to meet at a decent bar. It isn't a trendy spot or a shitty chain. Better than even odds you will join their game if asked.
BEEP
Angry words are growled out and dice fly onto a small coffee table. It is your first legit Duel of Wits and you are arguing with an immortal. Nothing is going well in this conversation, but it isn't because of bad rolls. There is magic at the table happening that you're only vaguely aware of.
The conflict ends with you losing and you have to get up and walk down the little hall of the apartment to center yourself. Holy shit, what just happened?
That memory is the important one when it comes to the game. All the others are tied up with friendship. Messy, human memories, some of which hurt.
So I need to stop the cassette. I need to focus on the game.
I will admit, I was skeptical of the concept of the Duel of Wits when I first read and then demoed the game. The very idea of tying mechanics to roleplaying was anathema. Wouldn't that break the flow? Wouldn't that ruin the moment?
The truth is, not only did it not ruin the roleplaying, it actually heightened it. An attempt to convince an immortal to aid the weary rebels of our game transformed from a conversation to an argument that had stakes. The result was something intense and passionate and unexpected.
I felt the tension of the moment. My body had a visceral reaction. As the dice fell with each exchange, I had to think. I needed to pivot and dance, not unlike a real attempt to convince someone to do something they don't want to do.
For the first time, the bard, which is essentially what I had burned up, was interesting and powerful. Not because of stupid spells or a high charisma. No, the character had skills and a tool by which to influence the game in a human way. With voice and conviction, the character of Skeld the Joyous became something worth playing even though he was surrounded by more conventionally competent characters.
My experience has long been that most people, when they encounter the game, get excited by the Life Paths for character creation, the unforgiving combat system, or Artha, the spiritual engine of the game. Those things are all great, but other games had those at the time Burning Wheel came out.
I talked about some of them in previous essays in fact. The Riddle of Steel. Sorcerer. These games hit those types of mechanics too. They are special, but not unique.
As finely tuned and interconnected as The Burning Wheel's version of those mechanics are, they don't hold a candle to the Duel of Wits mechanics. That is the thing that makes this game special, and has made it a part of my life for a long time.
Words have power and meaning. They are where most of our agency lies in our every day life. The things we say land in other people's hearts in ways we can't fully control. Your tone and words can create or destroy with shocking ease.
And yet, most games put all the agency into acts of violence.
If I had to guess why that is, it is because it is easier to build systems on violence. It is easier to connect the cause and effect of the swing of a punch. It is a lot harder to connect the dots between a cruel or kind word and a person's sense of self 20 years later.
Burning Wheel decides to do the hard thing instead. I don't know if Luke intended this when he designed it, but his mechanical marvel is the closest thing I have seen to capturing what I am talking about. It has been years since I have played that long campaign filled with memories, and still those duels haunt me.
I don't even remember any of the fights other than the very last one...
Luke created something beautiful and terrible. Something tremendously human. Something that bucked against an industry that is highly conservative. An industry that is still conservative, rewarding nostalgia and artifice over art and substance.
Burning Wheel is art. It is substance. It taps the human soul whether we want it to or not. It creates memories that are hard to wrestle with sometimes. It challenges the sense of self in ways that are uncomfortable.
It makes words matter because they do.
Testament - Segnom and Dhmelos
Broken into five parts, Segnom and Dhmelos continues the journey of mortals and immortals reshaping them with every step. Segnom explores what it costs you when you climb back up from defeat. Conversely, Dhmelos explores the price of power and what is required of leaders to be worthy of it.
Each page of Testament was block printed, hand painted, and handwritten. Those pages were then faithfully reproduced within.
