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And just like that, we’ve almost run out of 2021!  This month is a busy one, with the 1st round of playtests for Immodest Proposal done, 1000 shows for the Telelibrary, moving apartments, and the release of the game I designed for Obvious Agency’s Care Package. And since this Month’s reading is all about the mechanics of gathering and connection, it seemed apt to share a some scratch notes from the development process for the Care Package — especially since my commission was “a game to help people reconnect.” Consider it an archive/playtest hybrid, and/or an excuse to text someone you like and haven’t heard from in a while.   


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As a theatermaker, one of my (many) obsessions is scale. I find there is a tendency in creative discussions to imagine and create things at epic scale, and to take anything currently functioning and ask “how can we make this BIGGER?” A “short” performance in a proscenium theater often means 70-90 minutes (no intermission), which is still a fairly hefty undertaking for any creative team (and with travel time there and back, is an evening-long commitment for any audience member).

I think these large productions can be amazing — I also think they represent a huge investment of time, energy, and resources, and that no ecosystem can exist with only “Charismatic Megafauna” in it. And so I often find myself asking how I can build work to fill those small niche spaces between what’s already out there.

An obvious benefit to working “small” is that it’s less resource-intensive; it’s far easier to embrace failure and reinvention when you’re not “too big to fail.” For the creator, you can roll harder on stranger choices when operating costs are low, and more easily adapt, adjust, or pivot material when you don’t have sprawling and interconnected production elements. Similarly, for audience members, shorter run times and lower prices can invite them to consider new experiences — even ones they aren’t certain they will enjoy — because the perceived risk is lower*.

*  in terms of understanding audience risk, I always think of the way my Clowning teacher Orlando Patoboy framed it for us; “If I come to your show, that’s not just $35 of my money. It’s not just two hours of my time. I have two little girls. If I come to your show, that’s two hours I will never get to spend watching my children grow up.” It’s a searing example, but I find that when I hold that as my understanding of stakes, I make work that I can stand by.

With a small overhead, suddenly the sky's the limit on some new opportunities. Pieces with little necessary prep or space restrictions are easily remountable on short notice. Pieces with low production costs or maintenance can be run a very long time. Both of those qualities lend themselves to iteration, evolving and deepening a piece over time. They also invite an artist to  leave a work “unfinished” (a term which could very much be its own essay). This is very exciting to me, because even as I tout the low stakes of small work, I remain a deeply unreasonable person, and so I also expect my small pieces to pack a big punch.

When I received the commission from Obvious Agency to create “a game to help people reconnect,” I leapt at the chance to try a new “scale” of exchanges: how can I facilitate without being present? How can I lower the barrier to entry to an activity, but still build something that helps evoke a new kind of relationship between two people? For this format, the best solution seemed to be to find a simple mechanic which can alter and grow over time. I gave myself two measures of “success” (that slippery word):

The first is the “Tardis Test;” is the thing I made bigger on the inside? Does it become a larger or more interesting experience than it first appeared to be? For me, this isn’t just about the “wow” factor of a broken expectation. It’s als a sure sign that the initial “ask” of the participant was both small enough to feel accomplishable but ultimately deep enough to hold meaning.

The second measure is ripped straight out of reading Ida Benedetto (and eventually Priya Parker, but if you have to read one, read Benedetto); how far was this experience Transformative? How far did the experience of completing it change the participant, in any way?

For the piece I ended up submitting, “Appraise,” I knew “compliments” are uncomfortable territory for many, so I gave a lot of thought to setting clear boundaries and limits (I have often goaded myself into unsavory tasks by saying “I can survive anything for 20 minutes). But in the process of writing and testing games, I was also interested in creating something that could be open ended—an invitation to carry an exchange around, and let it very slightly adjust the way you move through the world, because you are now doing so with someone else. And since I’ve been bitten hard by the “small games” bug, I decided to create a game for two players, inspired by how notoriously bad I am at texting anyone for months at a time. It’s called “See You Around.”


See You Around (V 1_3)
A scavenger hunt for two players
Sometimes it’s nice not to know what comes next. Read these instructions one at a time, and only move on when you’ve completed a step. You have 20 minutes to complete the first 3 steps. The last step lasts as long as you like — or as long as you can stand to wait for your glorious prize.
1. Begin by deciding who is Player A and Player B.
2. This is a competition, so let’s make it interesting.  Player A, think of a prize that the loser will give the winner. This should be something large enough to want but small enough to not mind losing: a drink, however strong; Lunch at that place we like; I’ll do your dishes; you buy me a book. Player A, text ideas for a prize to Player B until B finds one they can agree with.
3. Player B, pick a number between 5 and 8. Both players should now think of a word they love that many letters long (5,6, etc.), then text this word to the other player. When you do so, share something you love about your word.
4. The race is on.
Each player is going to attempt to spell their opponents word by taking photos of each letter as it appears “in the wild.” The letter must appear as the first letter on a sign, book, or other printed title (for instance, if you needed an “A,” you might take a photo of “Anastacia's Antiques,” an “Authorized Personnel Only,” or “A Brief History of Time”). If you can find two letters you need in a row (“CH” in “Chorus,” or “Charles,”) that’s worth two.
Once you have taken a photo, text it to the other player, along with a caption of any kind.
Each player may only send one photo a day. Players can’t use the same “source” 2 days in a row (books, street signs, business name, etc.), so mix it up.
First to spell the other player’s word wins, collects their prize, and lives in triumph—
until the next round.

Did I succeed? You tell me! I’d love to offer this as something to try with your friends and loved ones, or anyone you want a slice more connection with. If you do test it out, let me know what you think!

- How far (if at all) is it “bigger on the inside?”
- How far (if at all) is it transformative?
- Did you enjoy it? Abandon it? Give up after a day? Play 5 rounds in a row?

All feedback welcome, and all thoughts appreciated. As I said, I really enjoyed the challenge of crafting exchanges on this scale, and I’m working on a few more games at the moment, so if this proves interesting for you, you can expect more coming!

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Hey look, we’ve got 10 Archive Highlights on the books! I want to take this moment to once again thank all of you for your amazing support. My work and my life have been truly transformed by this opportunity to pursue my own projects first, and I can’t wait to share what the next 12 months have in store.

See you next year for something entirely different

Until then — thanks again for your support.

- Yannick

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A perfectly orderly transition from one apartment to another

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