Flames of Inspiration

The memory plays with what seems to be an exposed light filter or maybe it was just a yellow hue from the chandelier above my grandmother’s dining table... My small, seven year old hands arrange borrowed pawns from a classic SORRY box I pillaged from the game closet, upon a crudely crafted custom board game. Nine sheets of wide-rule paper drawn on with color pencil are taped to a plane of cardboard that I painstakingly carved from a discarded moving box with Klasko safety scissors. I finish placing the pawns, jostle my head and blow up and out the side of my mouth in an attempt to reposition the hair tickling my nose and cheek. Out of my peripheral I catch my uncle revealing a proud smirk as he casually shakes the commandeered Yahtzee dice. He can see my irritation with the quality of my work and releases a small high pitched chuckle. However, while completing my explanation of the rules I forget the worry of taped seams puzzling together my amateur art. The ache in my hand from butchering cardboard fades. The game begins and joy feels as though it will burst from my chest and flood the room. Excitement has my legs bouncing on the balls of my feet as I realize I brought people together and enabled them to interact through something I created. Now remove the yellow hue and fast forward through four years of Nascar comics and a Sonic the Hedgehog card games to feel the gentle bite of the crisp air belonging to Connecticut’s fall season. The breathtaking spectrum of color and diverse terrain became the backdrop of a modern fantasy book I began writing which of course casted all of my middle school friends. My magical environment inspired me to fill two separate notebooks with our adventures. Cue the sounds of a crackling fireplace. Like the school bus engine ushering me home from school, I am vibrating with the excitement of using my fantasy novel to easter egg a comic series I created in class. In the book, I would stumble upon a close friend reading a hip new title during lunch... The bus doors collapse and I race home with my loose hanging backpack slapping against my back end, keeping the rhythm of my stride. I burst into the apartment, only focused on recording this minute detail in my story, so I almost miss my stepdad at his computer in the dining room. I deeply search my room and find no notebooks. After rotating through multiple caches, I remember thumbing the coil while reading through edits over breakfast and fear immediately grips me. Flying down the stairs and sliding into the dining room I take a moment to swallow down butterflies. No acknowledgment of my entrance, just the quick clatter of a keyboard. I hesitantly ask my stepdad about the notebooks. Without looking away from his screen he responded “Shouldn’t have left trash on the table.” A void opens behind my sternum and the depth of my stomach forms tight knots as I drag myself to the fireplace. I find charred paper and blackened metal coils resting in the ashes. I went on to create plenty of more trash that would be belittled or destroyed. Tons of music, a few games along with fantasy worlds for stories I wanted to write. I was told for too long that my projects were a waste of time or that I had no talent, until eventually I was convinced it was true. However, at my core there is a part of me that must create. A large part of me that is not happy unless I am doing so with the ability to share my works. I allowed myself to love my creations. I nurtured my inner child and enabled that imaginative perfectionist to invent again. I am extremely excited for everyone to get to know Edward Abbing, learn the lore behind the Colossi and explore Dlairine woods. Due to the amount of time, energy, and now the finances the studio requires, I have felt I may have to let go but I don’t want to. I don’t know how and ultimately don’t think I should. I fully believe in my work. After watching strangers play and fall in love with Brewing Shenanigans I was convinced of the integrity of its design and playing through the game myself with these new faces allowed me to become a fan of the game again, trust myself, and ignore the irrational insecurities. Here at Nebulae Studios our mission is to foster immersive, inspiring, and inclusive experiences though our creative projects in hopes of bringing together a broader audience to the tabletop. We look forward to sharing more of the universe for you all to explore