Page 7 of Stops Along the Way
“Did you check in for your flight?” my sister asks.
“Oh, shoot, not yet.” I glance down at the mess of cardboard and glue in front of me. “Can you do it for me? I’m trying to get this all put together so I can submit it early before I leave.”
There’s loud keyboard clacking streamed through my hearing aids as Amelia jumps into the task. “Sure, is your password still the—”
“Yeah, should be that same one. Maybe add an exclamation mark or two on the end.”
I cuss beneath my breath, having started to work too hastily and cut the corner of one piece too short. Setting down the knife, I take stock of all the pieces I still have left to cut out. Is it really worth rushing to finish this before flying out to Amelia?
Then again, I have the momentum now, and the vision for this project in mind. I’ll only be more stressed if I put this off for later when I’ll end up with less time to finish everything. It’s just these connecting board pieces—the town square, courthouse, cottages, woods, and lake tiles—that I need to get this crafty with. The deck portion, with the accusation and enchantment cards I ordered through a photo printing website, should be delivered this afternoon,justin time for me to take all these components to the first playthrough scheduled at Roll Again tonight. It will be good to make sure the wholegame isn’t a mess before I leave it in the submission pile that Bryce has offered to bring over to the expo for us on early registration day.
Admittedly, I’m approaching this the way I did all my homework assignments throughout high school and middle school. I never understood when my classmates would take time to revise a paper over and over again. How much better could it really get? There’s such sweet relief in just submitting and being done with something.
The judges are either going to like the concept or they’re not.
Why waste extra time?
“I’m logged in,” Amelia confirms, followed a minute later by, “Okay, you’re all set with the boarding pass on the airline app and all that. Let me know if you need help figuring any of that out too.”
“Thank you.” She’s babying me a little, but since it’s my first time ever flying by myself, I’m happy to follow her lead. “How are finals?”
“Ugh, I need to get back to studying for my next exam, like, now.”
I laugh. “Of course you do. Thanks for squeezing me in.”
“Hey, don’t worry, you’ll be sick of me soon when we’re stuck in the car crossing the country.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
.....
It’sa dreary, rainy evening as I walk over to Roll Again. Peyton wanted to come playtest but had to cover a shift tonight for her cousin who flaked last minute. I’m carrying my game box wrapped in a garbage bag so I don’t jumble all the work by carrying it sideways in my tote.
The cards turned out really nice, but the back image with witchy symbols printed a smidge blurry, which the preview online didn’t indicate at all. The website customer service bot offered a partial refund but not a replacement.
Ah well. That’s the vibe this project has, honestly.
If it wins, then my game will be produced professionally and look as beautiful as I know it can.
I went back and forth on the name but ultimately landed on Craft a Witch, which seems to fit this accusation-style blend of a party game pretty well. Besides Mafia/Werewolf, a game I could list as a reference title would probably be something like Clue, yet it really does feel too grand to try to compare my little creation to huge existing games that everyone knows and loves. I guess that’s the only way for people to get a sense of what elements and gameplay to expect.
It does make me a little giddy, though, to imagine people playing this at Roll Again tonight and being like,Wow, this is such a brilliant game.
Even though it’s probably trash.
The reality has to be somewhere in between, right?
The parking lot is more deserted than usual. Through the chiming door, I step inside and discover the small store isempty. Except for Declan, who is sitting on a stool behind the counter, wearing green today, hunched over a pile of dice and an even bigger notebook than his usual recordkeeping journal.
I clear my throat, but he doesn’t look up. I walk all the way to the counter, and he still doesn’t seem to notice me. “Hello?” I say.
Declan glances up but doesn’t say anything.
“Isn’t it a test run night?”
“Yep.” He nods slowly, rearranging some of the dice in front of him into different piles, consulting an eight-by-eight-inch laminated chart of numbers, then adding a scoring token to a separate pile. I’m guessing this is his game creation. After taking his time with these calculations, he looks at me again. “You brought garbage?”
It takes a second for me to realize what he’s referring to, and I quickly free Craft a Witch from its plastic-wrapped confines. “…It’s raining.”
