PEDRO LASCH, STEPHANIE ADAMS, DONOVAN MCKNIGHT, XANDRA EDEN, JODY SERVON, KATIE TYLER AND KEEGAN SMITH WEARING PEDRO LASCH’S MIRROR MASKS FOR IDWE AND MIGRANTS DAY AT SUPER G / PHOTO: CAMILO PERDOMO

See more photos of this event here: http://www.experimentalcommunities.net/international-day-without-english/2011/12/photo-report-idwe-and-migrants-day-at-super-g-experiential-residency-program/

Project Launch from IDWE Headquarters at Duke University in Durham, NC and Super G: Experiential Residency Program in Greensboro, NC.

The 2011 International Day Without English campaign will be launched from its headquarters at Duke University in Durham, North Carolina December 12 – 18.

In addition to what any other participants may be organizing around the world, a final launch event will also happen on December 18, 2011 from 1-3pm at the ‘Super G: Experiential Residency Program’ in Greensboro, North Carolina (*see directions below).

The event is a conversation about culture and migration co-hosted by Lee Walton and Donovan McKnight (Super G: Experiential Residency Program creators), Xandra Eden (Curator of Exhibitions, Weatherspoon Art Museum), and Pedro Lasch (IDWE producer and Duke University Professor).

We invite anyone wanting to hear or share ideas, stories or experiences of migration and culture to this event. Please note that half way through the event, beginning at 2pm, some of us will stop speaking English to observe International Day Without English. This will also be our way to participate in the UN/QMA/Creative Time/IMI Global Action for International Migrants Day.

*Where: Super G Mart, 4927 West Market Street, Greensboro, NC (when entering the store, walk straight ahead to the flea market, the International Day Without English booth will be on in that section)

GO TO MAIN WEBSITE FOR EVENT HERE

Project Launch from IDWE Headquarters at Duke University in Durham, NC and Super G: Experiential Residency Program in Greensboro, NC.

The 2011 International Day Without English campaign will be launched from its headquarters at Duke University in Durham, North Carolina December 12 – 18.

In addition to what any other participants may be organizing around the world, a final launch event will also happen on December 18, 2011 from 1-3pm at the ‘Super G: Experiential Residency Program’ in Greensboro, North Carolina (*see directions below).

The event is a conversation about culture and migration co-hosted by Lee Walton and Donovan McKnight (Super G: Experiential Residency Program creators), Xandra Eden (Curator of Exhibitions, Weatherspoon Art Museum), and Pedro Lasch (IDWE producer and Duke University Professor). We invite anyone wanting to hear or share ideas, stories or experiences of migration and culture to this event. Please note that half way through the event, beginning at 2pm, some of us will stop speaking English to observe International Day Without English. This will also be our way to participate in theUN/QMA/Creative Time/IMI Global Action for International Migrants Day.

*Where: Super G Mart, 4927 West Market Street, Greensboro, NC (when entering the store, walk straight ahead to the flea market, the International Day Without English booth will be on your left in that section)

War is long periods of boredom, punctuated by moments of sheer terror.

The third battle of the campaign was a lesson in patience for me, and a reminder about what I aim to do with this project.

Tactically, there was not a lot going on. The American force from the last battle had crossed the canal and set up a hasty defensive screen in a wide arc on the north side of the bridgehead. Exhausted, and with barely more than a platoon of heavy armor left, they did not have sufficient strength to continue the offensive. Their job was simply to hold the bridgehead so that fresh units, advancing from the rear, could continue the assault.

The Soviets were not in a position to take decisive offensive action either. They rushed in infantry from the flanks to hem in the Americans, and had only one (not very good) tank company nearby. Heavier reinforcements would have to wait. The Soviets had a small local force superiority, but nowhere near enough to contemplate a counter-attack to push the Americans back over the canal.

 My gaming partner this day was Trey, who chose to play the Soviets. He’s a skilled gamer, well-versed in things military, and (perhaps more than anyone else I know) understands my project. His intention was to use the forces at his disposal as an actual Russian commander might, rather than throw everything at me as a normal gamer would. To that end, Trey devised a plan whereby the Soviets probed my defensive screen, hoping to draw the Americans into an ill-considered attack.

In real life that’s perfectly realistic. Uncertainty is a huge factor in the battlefield experience. But there is no fog of war in most tabletop wargames. The players can see where all the tanks and whatnot are on the map. But the fictional commanders, drivers, gunners and artillery observers represented on the table can’t see all that’s going on. 

The disjunction between what players know and what the fictional characters in a game know is central to role-playing games and most players understand and honor that dynamic. Separating player from character knowledge is important, and leads to a richer gaming experience. This is usually perceived as irrelevant in a wargame, where the objective is to win, not to play a character.

Since I could see what Trey was doing and since he’d vocalized his plans, I had to be mindful of the difference between what I thought the Americans would do in the situation and the opportunities for advantage I saw as a player. There were several times when Trey had to remind me that I ought not to be seeking to attack with units that had neither observed nor been in contact with his.

What resulted was a rather patient and uneventful game. We had turns where nothing happened over most of the gaming table. Out of roughly fifty units in play on each side, maybe half a dozen actually did anything most turns.

Most of the turn sequence in Challenger: Ultramodern Miniature Wargame Rules is: Player A movement, Player B weapon fire, Player A weapon fire, then B movement, A fire, B fire. These six phases normally comprise the bulk of game activity. We played out about 12 turns… 72 move-shoot-shoot-move-shoot-shoot phases. During at least half of them, no action was taken because our forces were sitting there, waiting… just like real life.

 There was a little skirmishing around the edges. Some of his probes met with a bad end. A couple drew some of my forces out into vulnerable positions. Neither side achieved anything decisive. At the end of the day, the overall position was much as it had been at the start.

Nobody won. And that was perfect.

Following the failure of the opening attack, the Lt. Colonel of 1^st Battalion (69^th Armored Regiment) relieved Company A’s Captain from duty. He placed 1^st Lieutenant Hillston (of 2^nd Platoon, Co. A) in command of the task force’s second assault of the bridges over the Mittelkanal.

[To aid readers unfamiliar with military jargon and modern weapon systems, I will use different colored text for Soviet and American units.]

The assault was preceded by an A-10 Thunderbolt (“Warthog”) attack run and artillery bombardment. The A-10 acquired and deployed cluster bombs against a platoon of BMP infantry carriers and BRDM-2S Sagger ATGW carriers in the tree line south of the central bridge.

At 06:30, 9 August 1985, Co. A and Companies G & H (2^nd Battalion, 8^th Mechanized Infantry Regiment), having regrouped, advanced from the vicinity west of Aspel. Smoke was deployed by artillery to cover the gap between the woods south of the canal.

All six artillery batteries at the task force’s disposal concentrated fire on the tree line at the last known location of a of T-72 tanks near the Birkenfeld bridge. All four T-72s of 2^nd Platoon (Company J, 4^th Tank Battalion, 40^th Guards Motor Rifle Berlin Regiment) were neutralized and unable to return the M1 Abrams’ fire as Co. A emerged from the smoke screen.

Co. H’s M901 TOW ATGW carriers went through the woods east of the smokescreen and engaged the BMPs of 3^rd Plat. (Co. E, 2^nd Battalion, 40^th Guards Motor Rifle Berlin Regiment) and the platoon of BRDM-2S’s . The M113s of Co. G followed through the woods behind.

After dispatching 3^rd Platoon’s T-72s, Co. A advanced towards the middle bridge, where 2^nd Plat. Co. A engaged 1^st Plat. Co. J. Two M1s and all five T-72s were destroyed in the exchange. The BMPs knocked out two M901s and then retreated through the woods back towards the bridge. After the loss of a BRDM-2S, the rest of that platoon also retreated through the woods towards the easternmost bridge, and on to Ritterbruch.

The American task force then split up. 2^nd Plat. Co. A and 1^st Plat. Co. G assaulted the west (Birkendfeld) bridge. 1^st Plat. Co. A and 2^nd & 3^rd Plat. Co G assaulted the central bridge. The M901s of Co. H approached the east bridge, engaged and destroyed the BMPs of 2^nd Plat. Co. E.

 South of Birkenfeld, the Soviet BMPs and infantry were overwhelmed by the M1 cannons, dismounted infantry and machine gun fire from M113s.

 American artillery fire concentrated on the central bridge. The BMPs morale broke and they fled to Ritterbruch, leaving their infantry on the north side of the bridge. The American infantry of 2nd and 3rd Platoons dismounted and successfully assaulted both bridge on foot, suffering some losses.

The American tanks and M901s then crossed the bridges, and engaged the final Soviet units in Ritterbruch. One M1, a number of M901s and the last platoon of T-72s perished. The few remaining Soviet units retreated north through Ritterbruch. 

 As the American forces assaulted the bridges, the A-10 came back for its second attack run. It failed to acquire any targets in Ritterbruch, and previously acquired Soviet units had been destroyed or routed, so it released no ordnance. 

Two SA-9 Gaskins and two Zsu 23/4s of the 2^nd Air Defense Battery, 359^th Guards Anti-Aircraft L’vov Regiment, on anti-aircraft overwatch engaged the A-10 as it passed overhead. The quad-autocannons on the Zsus were ineffective, but the rockets of both Gaskins hit and destroyed the A-10.

At battle’s end, the Soviets had lost an infantry and a tank company. A handful of units escaped north, and a single Soviet infantry platoon continued to hold the easternmost bridge. The Americans lost three M1s, most of the M901s of the anti-tank company, a couple M113s and associated infantry, and the A-10 Warthog.

On the right (east) flank, the six M113 armored personnel carriers of Company D’s scout platoon exchanged machine gun fire with and destroyed a Soviet BRDM2 scout car at a farmstead south of Horst. Half the platoon took up defensive positions there, while the other half moved on towards Horst. After routing a second BRDM2, they occupied Horst and set up a defensive screen to the north and east.

The M1 Abrams of Company A used their smoke generators to provide cover for the armored personnel carriers of Companies G & H following them. On the approach to Aspel, Company A took light fire from Soviet BRDM2 scout cars in Aspel and a small farmstead to the southeast. These were quickly eliminated or routed.

Company A took anti-tank guided weapons (ATGW) fire from the woods north of Aspel, losing one M1 Abrams of 3^rd Platoon. Two additional M1s came to a halt and refused to advance. The bulk of Company A, followed closely by the scout platoon of Company H, bypassed Aspel and engaged Soviet elements in the woods.

1^st Platoon of Company G dismounted its infantry to occupy the farmstead and then took heavy artillery fire neutralizing three of its four M113s.

Company A destroyed an ATGW weapons carrier and at PT-76 light tank in the tree line, but suffered the simultaneous loss of four M1 Abrams and an M113 from artillery fire and from a platoon of T-72 tanks in the woods just south of the Birkenfeld bridge.

Having lost nearly a third of its tanks, at 06:10 the commander of Company A ordered his company to retire from the field to a pre-designated rally point outside Nettelstedt. Unable to advance without tank support, Company G also withdrew.

Company D’s scout platoon remained in Horst. The scout platoon and anti-tank platoons of Company H took up defensive positions in Aspel facing north.

The Americans had little to show for their losses– a few kilometers advance and two villages. They had dislodged Soviet scout elements and reduced Soviet visibility over the battlefield. The next American assault would be bolder, and show greater tactical finesse.

My intention is not just to host a bunch of tabletop wargames. We will create a story (a fictional history) based on the outcome of those games. Most fiction writers know ahead of time what story they’re going to tell. They have themes or characters to develop, and the actual plot tends to be a delivery system to explore those themes or characters.

But what if we took, say, Animal Farm, and subjected it to arbitration-by-gaming? In the big battle scene where the animals evict the farmer, what if Orwell had decided the outcome of that battle by actually playing it as a game? Different characters may have been killed or wounded. The humans could even have won, changing the whole direction of the story.

In this project, I don’t have any predetermined outcome in mind. I’m just intensely curious about how it might turn out. I don’t consider myself to be any kind of novelist or fiction writer in this endeavor. A fiction will be created, but it will create itself. My role is in setting up the initial scenario, and then letting it work itself out.

Some authors describe their writing in a very passive way, describing the creative process as one in which the story tells itself. But in those cases, however little they feel their conscious mind is involved, the author is still in total control, even if only at the unconscious level. In this story, the players are in control. And the players’ actions will be limited by the rules of the game itself, and by the resources the scenario puts at their disposal.

I’m not sure what to call that. It’s creative. Maybe it’s storytelling. But, if it is storytelling at all, it’s a weird kind of storytelling. I don’t think I’d call it art. Though I would not necessarily argue the point if someone chose to call it art.

Sunday, Oct. 16, 10:00-1:00

Tuesday, Oct. 18, 10:00-4:00

Friday, Oct. 21, 11:00-5:00

Saturday, Oct. 22, 11:00-5:00

Sunday, Oct. 30, 11:00-5:00

Saturday, Nov. 5, 11:00-5:00

Depending on how much headway I/we make on those days, I may tack on more future dates.

It is helpful for my project for folks to come for long or short periods of time. And also to some singly or with others. I can make use of visitors in any variety of formats.

Most people play miniatures wargames the way they would a boardgame—as one-off, stand alone sessions. One game of Risk or Scrabble is not really connected to the next. Similarly, the way most people play involves no storyline or ongoing campaign. The background setting might be fleshed out (Middle Earth, the Civil War, Europe in the 1980s) but individual games are not usually understood to influence a broader gameworld (the fictional setting of the game itself).

 Most wargames are also built on rather flimsy premises. Two forces that face off and hurtle themselves at the other is a pretty common premise. Historical wargames are better for this, because there is a built-in context. But often a battle happens because, well, that’s just what Elves and Orcs do when they meet. Even in historical games, they aren’t generally interconnected. If the Confederates prevail over the Union at Gettysburg, that doesn’t create an alternate history influencing the next game. It’s easy enough to do. It’s just that most players don’t bother. Most probably aren’t interested in this aspect.

 One-off wargaming has been unsatisfying to me for a long time now. Especially given the effort and investment to prepare and play a miniatures game (the cost of models, painting, making scenery) it always seemed a shame to me that these games didn’t really matter, because they were not a part of something bigger.

 While my residency revolves around an inter-connected series of tabletop miniature wargames, I am approaching it to some extent as I would an ongoing role-playing game. I’m an unusual guy. I’m an unusual gamer. And I’m a really unusual wargamer.

 It is hard to parse out entirely how role-playing games influenced my friends and me. RPGs were such a big part of our lives, I think aspects bled into many areas. As intelligent children of liberal/progressive intellectuals, it was a given that we would develop powerfully creative minds. RPGs are an especially creative and unique kind of play, very different from that which normal kids encounter at home or in playgrounds.

 [Quick note—when I talk about RPGs, I’m always referring to pen and paper role-playing games, like Dungeons & Dragons. I never use the term to describe video games or any other type of game. Wikipedia does a fine job of laying out the distinctions.]

Role-playing games have a strong make-believe element. They are also generally ongoing, long-term games. The game isn’t over after a couple hours. Play continues session after session for days, weeks, and possibly years. Characters and story lines evolve. Even the gameworld can evolve, sometimes influenced by the player characters. RPGs require a certain degree of discipline, attention to rules and book-keeping that is not a part of normal children’s play.

This ongoing rhythm and the connectedness of one game to another would go on to have much influence on my other hobbies and even for my general aesthetic sensibilities.

 As a kid, I was the type of gamer most kids are—interested in killing monsters, acquiring loot and making my character more powerful. To the extent that I was interested in character development, it was mostly to make my character cool. The notion of playing a weakness, for the sake of character, did not at first occur to me.

As I got a little older, character and plot were more of a concern. I looked at rules less with an eye to exploiting them to become more powerful, and more as a vessel in which to explore a personality and see neat things happen in-game. I still played characters that more or less resembled me, or variations of me. But I, and my closest friends, branched out into unfamiliar types at a younger age than most other kids.

 In conjunction with higher expectations in terms of character development, we also started to put a lot of stock in realism. The games themselves did not need to be based on reality. We were happy to play games where heroes, monsters, magic, faster-than-light-travel, telepathy, etc. existed. But we wanted the world, and the events that unfolded within it, to be more or less realistic within the setting.

 Two not terribly well-known films were enormously influential to me– the 1981 sci-fi film Outland, and the 1976 film adaptation of Rudyard Kipling’s The Man Who Would Be King. Both were on heavy rotation on cable when I was young. Neither is really a favorite of mine, nor would they make a list of the best films ever. But I found (and continue to find) them impressive in their grittiness and realism. They are both stories where the details matter and where the chain of consequences of action and reaction are constant throughout. They caught me at the exactly the right age to capture my imagination and influence my aesthetic sensibilities. They helped set the bar for how I wanted my games to be.

 A preference for realistic books and movies, and a strong aversion to plot holes and inconsistencies in character was in place by age 13 or so. Again, I liked fanciful stories just fine, as long as they were internally consistent.

 I’ve never been attracted to RPGs where the fate of the world rests in the players’ hands. I don’t like to play powerful heroes. Big themes and big challenges just don’t hold much appeal. If dragons exist in a world, there should be few of them, not one in every cave. They should be a big deal—the kind of thing one hears about in legend. And meeting one should be the event of a lifetime. I like games where breaking an ankle out in the woods poses a serious mortal threat. Where running out of ammo actually happens. Where magic and powerful artifacts are not only rare, but potentially dangerous.

Even playing as kids, if a character skewered a peasant with a spear in sight of the town guard, we expected the town guard to try to make an arrest, and that they would recognize us if we passed through town a month later. We also expected that goblins would guard the entrance to their caverns, that piles of treasure would not be left unattended, or that mercenary scum like us (if we were playing mercenary scum) would not be paid in full until the job was done. We didn’t just expect it—we wanted it. We needed the gameworld, and its occupants, to behave realistically and to react to our characters realistically. It somehow robbed the game of its fun to beat an overly easy challenge or to get away with things we ought not to have.

 This desire and need for games to matter, as I experience mattering, is really why I’m doing this residency.