Was Google+ Gaming's Camelot?

Okay, so it's been a little over a month since Google+ died (at least for the gaming community), although most of us escaped to new online homes well before the proverbial axes fell and our heads hit the basket.  But G+ was such a vital organ of the hobby, a landscape where it truly thrived, that nothing like mere escape could ease the effects of its passing.  And, not surprisingly, it's taken some time for me to process...

First off, Google+ was the social media platform of a media giant; so being there felt something like having our own cable network.  We were sending (and receiving) across an immense public sphere.  Of course, this wasn't a universal sentiment or our beloved G+ would still be; but for those of us in the tabletop world it felt like we were broadcasting to a substantial chunk of the hobby, because we almost certainly were. 

Imagine being in Time's Square on New Year's Eve.  More on that bit later...

But its reach, even among the gaming set, went far beyond the hobby - and tabletop enthusiasts weren't the only ones using the platform.  Its home feed could be a window on the world (remember that 90s promise?) depending on what you followed.  Mine was a motley assortment of news, tabletop gaming, and music.  From the tragic death of Tom Petty to the 2016 presidential election, Google+ kept me in the know.  I get that all social media makes this possible; but G+ did it on a bigger scale, or so it seemed.

Google+, for all its supposed failures, succeeded at being an immense and public facing phenomenon, the social-media equivalent of a personal cable network.  Now I can see legions of online types waiting to quote figures and demonstrate where I'm objectively wrong about (insert _______ here).  But this post is about my feelings and experiences with the platform, something largely immune to objective analysis, even if I'm wrong.

But perhaps the best way to express the experience of Google+ is to look at what happened in the wake of its demise.  At first everyone pitched their best alternative and made for the escape pods.  And it's not like there wasn't lots to choose from.  But quite a few of us made it MeWe, including those who didn't originally want to go.  The migration was big enough that the new landlords had to make accommodations, which speaks well for them, but also to the enormity of the move itself.  And it absorbed only some of the refugees!

MeWe isn't a wealthy tech giant, and its passion for privacy means that it's more intimate (and insular) than Google+ ever was.  That's a two-edged sword.  My circles are smaller, but also stocked with authentic friends, something I'm immensely grateful for.  The friendships started on Google+ were the most valuable things there.  But as a person who enjoys feeling connected to a larger public, I miss the sheer reach of my former home and its "one stop shopping" atmosphere, which brings us back to the whole New Year's analogy...

So it's New Year's Eve in Time's Square.  People are everywhere, and it's easy to get whipped up by the crowd.  It's a noisy, festive event; and if you're standing in the right place at the right time, you just might show up on TV.  But your friends are there too, forming intimate little clusters, familiar eddies in a fast-moving stream.  MeWe is more like a small gathering in a friend's apartment - and there's nothing wrong with that.  

But Google+ was a veritable Camelot for tabletop gamers.  A massive, thriving kingdom that spoke to the public at large.  It benefited greatly from the sheer number of voices and the ease of which new ideas and products could be disseminated.  Bloggers and publishers alike could spread their respective wings and reach an impressive audience.  This was good for the game publishers, obviously; but ours is a hobby that needs new products as well as fresh ideas, and Google+ absolutely enabled this unprecedented creative economy...

Which is to say: the Google+ era was special, and Robyn and I are both immensely glad for the five years we got to be part of it.  And we've held on to the best parts...

I don't say this because it's over, but because it's in recovery.  There's no squelching the creative urge, and that goes double for gaming.  The same voices that made Google+ such a great community are alive and well in new online homes.  History shows us that kingdoms don't just fall.  They also rise from the ashes.  For a decent chunk of us, MeWe could be a pit stop along the way or the start of a new golden age.  History (and gaming) goes on...  

Lightning Strikes In the Games We Play (and Some Real-World Safety Advice)...

Lightning spells are ubiquitous in gaming, and it isn't hard to understand why.  There's something decidedly elemental about these powerful (and visually impressive) displays of nature's fury.  And given that the ancients saw lightning as a sign of divine displeasure, electrical bolts from the heavens, it certainly feels at home in worlds where magic works and the many gods are real.  Electrocution is deadly, but the ability to wield lightning is highly sought after by warriors (Thor's hammer) and wizards alike... 

But have we ever taken the time to quantify the staggering power of lightning?

We're not talking dice here, although 9d6 is clearly powerful.  No, we're looking at things in a real-world sense.  How hot can lightning get?  And how often is it deadly?

As for heat, lightning is the movement of an electrical charge which, strictly speaking, generates no sensible temperature.  However, environmental resistance to this movement does generate heat; and because air is a poor conductor of electricity, the heat thereby produced is just incredible.  How about 53,540 degrees Fahrenheit or five times hotter than the surface of the sun, although this is, admittedly, its coolest layer.  Pure power...

But how often is it fatal?  Luckily, only in about 10% of cases, which means your typical gaming displays are probably deadlier.  Sadly; however, many survivors suffer painful third-degree burns, and that's not all.  Metal jewelry can swiftly melt, leaving a painful tattoo, while a victim's blood vessels explode in so-called lightning trees or Lichtenberg figures, a temporary scarring outlining the internal damage.  Indeed, lightning can stop the heart instantly, making cardiac arrest a leading cause of lightning-related deaths.   

Short of death, however, lightning can cause permanent blindness, deafness, and brain damage, which is horrifically tragic.  Gaming oversimplifies this, but let's forget about the fantastic for a few minutes and talk about real world safety.  I became a meteorologist because my younger self was enamored with the weather, but also because I cared about protecting others from its (frequently) more turbulent moods.  Lightning is dangerous, especially as we enter severe weather season - but the following is for everyone...    

When thunder roars, go indoors (this one's top of the list, folks). 

If outdoors and unable to find shelter, crouch low, with as little of your body touching the ground as possible (strong electrical currents can run along the surface).

Stay away from concrete walls, floors, or shelters.  Avoid electrical equipment of all kinds and corded phones (cordless or cell phones are safe to use, however).

Go HERE for more advice and stay safe!  No matter where you live, lightning is deadly - in gaming and in real life - and we want you healthy and enjoying the hobby.

The above trivia can enhance a game.  For instance, GM's who seek realism and allow critical injury can incorporate lightning's effects well short of death; but even those who play straight might better describe either end of a failed saving throw.  And who knows, generous referees (in the spirit of charity) can grant bonuses to those characters who take the right precautions against these displays.  Do what you want, but in this real life we hope you'll play it safe and protect yourselves (and others) from the angry heavens...