Well, Typhoon Shanshan has now been downgraded to a “tropical depression,” which is a term I only learned yesterday is the next step below “tropical storm” and is not some kind of non-alcoholic cocktail. Shanshan was the tenth typhoon of the year for us here in Japan, which I know because typhoons are never referred to by their name here; they’re just called whatever number typhoon they are so far in the year. When I told my students that Typhoon 10 was actually called Shanshan they didn’t believe me. They insisted it was the name of a panda until I showed them the newspaper with “Shanshan” written across the top of the front page.
Shanshan was an unusual typhoon in how slowly it crept along the southern areas of Japan. Here in Kyoto, we were speculating for almost two whole weeks about when it would finally arrive in our region; the date kept getting pushed back more and more as it stubbornly refused to move on from the southern island of Kyushu. By the time it finally made its way to us—more than a full week after it was originally expected—it had dissipated so much that we didn’t even see much rainfall. Those poor folks down south took the brunt of the meteorological assault so that we could be spared up here.
Even so, in anticipation of what I thought would be heavy showers and strong winds, I had canceled my weekend plans and decided to stay in on Saturday and Sunday, which left me with an unexpected abundance of time to myself. And although it wasn’t exactly storming out, it was still rather gloomy, so I took the opportunity to indulge in a very indoor activity: something that I often think about doing, but rarely ever have the time to actually do: I played an analog solo role-playing game. (Warning: from here, the rest of this week’s newsletter is going to get pretty nerdy)
For the uninitiated, I should explain.
I’ve been playing tabletop roleplaying games in earnest for about 5 years now. I’m currently in two different groups that meet regularly (in person) for our ongoing games. We started out playing Dungeons and Dragons, and we’ve since moved on to other games, but for whatever game we play, the underlying concept is the same: a bunch of friends gathered around a table creating a story together. When you’re with a group, usually one person will take the role of a “game master,” whose role is to guide the story by throwing obstacles and challenges at the other players around the table, each of whom is roleplaying as a character that they have created specifically to live in the world of the story and go on an adventure with the other players’ characters, making choices that then affect the trajectory of the game. To put it more succinctly, while the game master populates the world of the story, the players are the ones who bring the story to life.
Recently, however, solo roleplaying games have taken off. Generally, with solo roleplaying games, the role of the game master is taken by a series of scenarios or prompts, and the player responds to them while roleplaying—usually by writing journal-style entries in the voice of their imagined character. There are games that have deep, complex rules and an amazing amount of prompts spanning hundreds of pages of a rulebook. And there are games for which the entirety of the rules can fit neatly onto the size of a business card. And while most of the games require pencil and paper for the player to record their progress of play, there are some that have you record voice memos on your phone, or create physical objects, and some are even played entirely in your head, leaving no physical remnant of your game behind at all.
Solo RPGs have been around for a long time, to be sure, but their popularity started to gain traction during the pandemic, when people were stuck indoors and unable to get together to play games with their friends the way they used to. Even after the pandemic, though, their popularity has only continued to grow as more and more people are discovering that these games have something unique to offer. You see, it has become far too common these days for people to mindlessly open up an app on their phone when they are bored—be it social media, or a game, or some source of video or audio entertainment. We have become a population that has willingly submitted ourselves to be hooked on these empty methods of brain stimulation. I’m not trying to be judgmental when I call them “empty.” What I mean by “empty” is that they require next-to-nothing from us in order for our brains to get the stimulating dopamine hit that it wants from being entertained. We don’t really have to do any work. It’s handed to us on a platter.
Solo RPGs, on the other hand, demand that you put in work in exchange for the entertainment they provide. They are an exercise in creativity, and even within the confines of their own rule sets, you are only limited by the bounds of your imagination. Even more than that, they can encourage mindfulness and careful attention to your inner voices. The more you sit unplugged from your devices, really diving deep and exploring your consciousness, the more enriching is your experience with a solo RPG.
Which is not to say that all of these games are deep and profound experiences. Many of them encourage you to embrace your sillier side and imagine yourself as a mischievous seagull with a shitty disposition, or use a Where’s Waldo book as a record of your hunt for a time-and-space-traveling menace, or just make up stories about strangers who pass by. And those can still be rewarding to play because you’re still exercising your mind to run the game.
But there are also those that give you an opportunity to really wrestle with some complicated emotions. One of the more famous games of the last few years is The Thousand Year Old Vampire, in which you create and roleplay as a vampire that lives for (you guessed it) a thousand years. This is a journal-keeping game, and the rules instruct you on how to write entries to keep a record of the people and experiences your vampire has in its thousand years of life. The twist of this game, though, is there is a strict limitation on space in your journal, for after all, your memory can only hold record of so many names and faces. Eventually, inevitably, you have to let go of things and people you once regarded as precious enough to write down. The game forces you to make gut-wrenching decisions again and again over which memories you choose to erase and which you hold on to. Because you are the creator of all the “memories” your vampire character accrues, each one naturally becomes significant to you, the player, so you never really know what the best choice is. You can’t possibly give up the memory of your real family from before you became a vampire, right? But you cling to that memory at the expense of others! And after a thousand years, how much does it really matter, anyways? The game is brilliant, and deserves all the multiple awards it has won since its release.
It had been over a year since the last time I sat down to play a solo RPG, so I was excited to have the time to do so, and I knew exactly which game to pull from my shelves. I pre-ordered the game Koriko as part of a crowdfunding campaign that I had supported almost two years ago, and it finally arrived earlier this year. I knew as soon as I saw it that the game would be right up my alley, and I was so excited to finally have it in my hands! Time, however, has never been kind to me, and I just could not find the right opportunity to really sit down with it (a good solo RPG session usually requires several hours of your time, if you really want to get something out of it). But now I suddenly found myself with a whole day of unexpected freedom! I couldn’t have asked for a better opportunity.
Koriko: A Magical Year is, according to its creator Jack Harrison, “a bubbling cauldron of simple rules and writing prompts, stirred together to produce the story of a teenage witch spending a year away from home in an unfamiliar city called Koriko. The game’s primary inspiration is Kiki’s Delivery Service… I’ve watched the film countless times as it’s one of my son’s favorites, and its story and themes have burrowed their way deep into my soul.”
Kiki’s Delivery Service is the second Studio Ghibli film I ever saw, after Princess Mononoke (the movie that is the reason I’m here today), and I also adore it. The charming story of a young witch struggling to figure out who she is and how she fits into the world is one of the absolute coziest and warm-fuzziest movies out there. So the idea of playing a game based off of that vibe, and creating a teen character who will go through her own battles to find herself and find belonging was supremely appealing. Plus, the artwork in the rulebook is so adorable!
Koriko’s book guides you very gently through the process of creating your witch character and bringing their world to life. It’s a really well-designed set of rules, giving you enough suggestions that I never felt like I had to strain my creativity, but at the same time allowing enough freedom that I could run with any idea that I had and it never clashed with where the rules were taking me. Over the course of about 4 and a half hours, I fully created my character, Atsuko, and had a series of journal entries of all the events leading up to her departure from her hometown and her arrival in Koriko. And that’s only the beginning! The game actually plays out over several sessions—and it’s recommended that you take a few days’ break in between each—as you continue to build more and more on the story of your character’s year in Koriko.
Needless to say at this point: I am a fan of this game. I really enjoyed my time with it and I will definitely be taking the time to continue making Atsuko’s story. In the meantime, I thought I would share some of what I created. This was all hand-written in a notebook, but I’ve typed up the first few journal entries to give you a flavor of the game. If you enjoy it, maybe I’ll continue to tell Atsuko’s story in future newsletters bit by bit. Let me know what you think!
Atsuko’s Story: Part 1
First Journal
Well, here I am. My name is Atsuko. I’m a sixteen-year-old witch-in-training, and when you first see me, you’ll probably notice my coke bottle glasses, the birthmark on my left temple, and my snaggle-toothed grin. I wear a yellow knit beanie and a pair of baggy jeans, and I carry a fallen star fragment in a small glass jar with me pretty much everywhere.
You might also notice my familiar, Edgar. He’s the skittish spider that never leaves my side. Our bond is so strong that we can even talk to each other—though you probably won’t understand us.
Most folks from my village would say I’m hot-headed, I think. The people close to me make it clear that I should always be modest. As for me, I think I’m pretty helpful. And I’d really like to be more admired after I become a full-fledged witch.
I’m writing this from Rosehall, the quiet little village I’ve lived in all my life. I’m here with Munificent Holly, the village witch. She’s my aunt (on my Dad’s side). People in the village say she’s intimidating, but she can actually be playful when it’s just us.
Since I decided to become a witch she’s acted as my mentor, teaching me the basics of the old ways. We’ve learned a lot together, but now it’s time for me to put it into practice on my own, far from her guiding hand. Me and Edgar will be leaving on the next full moon, just two days from now, to spend a year away. I hope to hone my magic into something truly special, but I also want to chill out a bit and enjoy being a teenager away from home.
When I dream about my new home, I wake up with lingering memories of a great lake dotted with floating palaces and the sound of an orchestra tuning up. I wonder if it means anything. Either way, the anticipation is building within me.
Two days! The sooner I sleep, the faster it’ll come. Good night!
Atsuko
Second journal: 2 days to Departure
Munificent Holly asked me to make a potion for her—one that protects from mosquito bites. The recipe was more complicated than what I’m used to. She didn’t say this, but it felt like it was a kind of final trial before I leave. I’m sure that’s what it was.
I got so nervous that I overheated it in the last step, and when I panicked and tried to take the vial off the fire, I burned my hand and dropped it. It shattered and I lost the whole potion! I could see that Munificent Holly was disappointed. God, she must think I’m useless! She tried to smile at me and brush it off—she said that she’d been looking for an excuse to give the floor a good scrubbing—but her eyes gave her away.
I’ll be so glad to not have to make potions like that anymore. I’ve never been good at it. I want to get out in the world and use magic to help people more directly! That kind of academic study that requires precision and patience just isn’t for me.
I’ll miss this house, though. And Munificent Holly. Whenever it felt like I wasn’t good enough or I didn’t belong, she always knew exactly how to make me feel better. I always felt safe and loved and appreciated here.
Oh, I can hear her coming up the stairs! I’d better turn out the lights.
Atsuko
Third journal: 1 day to Departure
Dad came to ask me to help him with a job today. He’s a carpenter, and he was hired to repair the elementary school’s fence. He didn’t really need my help, but I bet he wanted to spend the day with me before I leave at midnight tonight.
At midday we took a break and sat and watched the kids playing in the schoolyard while we had lunch. He told me stories about when I was a kid like that. He said I was super bossy—always telling the other kids how they were messing up rules of the games we played or whatever else they were doing wrong. In the blink of an eye now I’m 16 and about to go out into the world on my own, he said. Then he got quiet for a while.
He told me to remember that most folks don’t like being told what they’re doing wrong. Especially not from a 16-year-old. So I should be respectful, and careful not to run my mouth off.
From the schoolyard we could see down the hill to practically the whole village. I realized it was the last time I would see it for a year. I wonder if anything will be different next time I see it? Probably not. At most, maybe a new road with a shop or two along it. I’ll be excited to come back and have Dad’s beef stroganoff again, that’s for sure. That’s all I want at my homecoming party.
Atsuko
Fourth journal: Take flight
Dad brought me back to Munificent Holly’s and said goodbye. He cried like a big goofball, but he knows that this last part is between me and her, so he had to leave us be. After the sun went down we packed the few belongings I need. Munificent Holly took me to the clearing. The one where my Mom is buried. She said it’s important to let her watch me go. That way I’ll be leaving with her blessing.
She told me to lie down, put my ear to the ground, and listen. When I did, I swear I could hear humming. It was soft at first, but then before I knew it I was humming, too, and so was Munificent Holly. Or maybe we were humming from the start and I just imagined the rest? It’s such a blur, it’s hard to say.
Munificent Holly laid her hands on me and I could feel her transfer some kind of charm to me. It felt warm, like a hug. She leaned over and whispered in my ear, “this will protect you from the cold while you travel. Now you are ready. I will leave you to take flight on your own.” She put both her arms around me and then let me go and stood back up. I caught her eyes as she did, and I could see a glow of pride in them. Then she turned, and left.
I stayed still where I was laying for a few minutes, or maybe more? I’m not sure how long. Then I said out loud, “I’m going now, and I’ll be fine.” I stood up, gathered Edgar and my things, straddled my broom, and took off.
So long, Rosehall!
Atsuko
Hi Loren! Can you tell me more about these games? I really think my granddaughter in Georgia would really like it. She is 17 and loves all things anime. Art is her passion. She will be turning 18 in October and i think one of these would be the perfect gift. Any suggestions? Thanks!