Conversation · Steban, the Student Communist

"Perhaps, but it's a fantasy that pays for things, like your hostel bill..."

"Let's just say the human body starts to do some weird things when it's been in a tree for seven days..."

"You've got our attention. Let's see where this goes..."

"I'll tell you how I infiltrated the Wild Pines for my investigation..."

"Sounds like old-fashioned revolutionary espionage. Let's see where this goes..."

"Let me tell you about a little incident I had with this woman at my hostel..."

"A story with an erotico-political angle. Let's see where this goes..."

"There might be something to that. I recently finished 'The Greatest Innocence'."

"Hmm, don't think I'm familiar with it. Give us a quick summary, if you don't mind."

Now's your chance to end this interview on a high-note. You quickly gloss Lopez de Fuego's essential argument, peppering it with your own commentary and asides...

Like a river emptying into the sea, the discussion winds its way toward the character of the innocence herself.

"... but then, any critical account of Dolores Dei's reign has to seriously reckon with her atrocities in Magritania and La Vuelta during the Mesque secession, don't you think?"

"Lopez de Fuego seemed to think she was pretty great regardless."

"Total nonsense. The greatest thing Dolores Dei ever did was get blasted by her own therrier."

"If he wants a real critical history, he's got to read 'On the Material Conditions of the Mirovan Boilermakers'."

"It's so good. Brutally revelatory."

"In any case, I think we've heard enough. We could use someone with your perspective in the group. With just a bit more theoretical foundation, I think you'll be making real contributions."

These kids are eating out of your hand, practically. Another quarter of an hour disappears. The questions come rapid-fire, but you have an answer for every one.

Now, you can sense things starting to slow down. The interview must be reaching an inflection point...

"... but to Comrade Ulixes' point, isn't there value in reading really difficult books, just for the sheer challenge of it?"

"I tried reading this extremely depressing Graadian novel."

"Oh, right. 'Sixteen Days of Coldest... Whatever'. What was your take on it?"

Now's your chance to end this interview on a high-note. You ably summarise the novel's characters and themes...

Even better, you're able to connect those themes to your critique of the novel's formal qualities, such as they are.

"... so anyway I had to give up. There was no point in subjecting myself to needless suffering."

"It's no wonder you couldn't finish it. Sounds like turgid bourgeois social realism." He nods approvingly.

"And Graadian realism is the worst realism. It's nearly as bad as Gottwaldian critical theory."

"Makes you want to gouge your eyes out. Or better, gouge the author's eyes out."

"In any case, I think we've heard enough. We could use someone with your perspective in the group. With just a bit more theoretical foundation, I think you'll be making real contributions."

These kids are eating out of your hand, practically. Another quarter of an hour disappears. The questions come rapid-fire, but you have an answer for every one.

Now, you can sense things starting to slow down. The interview must be reaching an inflection point...

"... but eventually I finished it, however much physical pain it caused me."

"Sounds to me like a typical bourgeois social novel, designed to assuage the egos of frustrated housewives and win international awards."

This is a good start. They're starting to loosen up. You feel relaxed and in control. You ably summarise the novel's characters and themes...

"I'm more into works of pure imagination, like 'Wirrâl'."

"Wait, you play 'Wirrâl'?"

And just like that, all trace of irony drains from his voice.

Now's your chance to end this interview on a high-note. Soon you're all animatedly debating the political subtext of character creation...

Come on, let's really impress them. Overturn the race-class paradigm. The more esoteric, the better.

"... I'm just saying it's heavily implied that welkin are the bourgeoisie of the Wirrâl setting..."

"But humans have all the most reactionary skill specialities."

"That's a fair point. Personally, I've never understood the point of picking a human in the Wirrâl setting, but to each their own."

"Completely counter to the spirit of 'Wirrâl'. What's even the point?"

"I just don't understand why welkin get all the coolest sub-races."

"I do hope they revise it in the next edition. But for now, I'm quite proud of the high welkin I built for our most recent campaign."

"Steban's welkin is so mega. He's got this umbral stave that gives him ungodly bonuses against shadowborn."

"It's pretty awesome, I won't deny it."

"Right, which is why the dweorgr are definitely the labouring class."

"There's no doubt about it." He nods. "I just wish they had more flexibility with their sub-races."

"I still like the hill dweorgr for their Master Ironworking feat."

"I reject the race-class paradigm. My personal build is a highly experimental welkin-pygmy hybrid."

"Combining the best race with the worst race... Not sure about the skill progressions, but I bet the role-playing opportunities are wild."

The young man's companion says nothing, but the expression on his face reveals a begrudging respect for your experimental approach to character creation.

"But seriously, the next campaign, you've got to be there. I need to see this hybrid in action."

This is a good start. They're starting to loosen up. You feel relaxed and in control. Soon you're all animatedly debating the political subtext of character creation...

"Listen, books are fine and all, but to be straight with you, they're no substitute for a real story."

"To be honest, these days I prefer escapist stuff, like classic Dick Mullen."

"I'm sure as a gendarme you have a very interesting take on the Mullen character."

Now's your chance to end this interview on a high-note. This is your area of expertise, after all...

That's right. These two young men naturally defer to your aura of authority, which you nevertheless wear as lightly as your halogen watermarks.