I’ve been looking forward to GAMA Trade Show, the game industry’s only real trade show, for months now. With all the stuff we’ve got going on, it should be our most triumphant GTS ever. We’ve got a lot of great books coming, including the Nocturnals book that just went to print and looks like a million damn dollars. We have cool licenses like the Red Star and the Black Company that we’ll be marketing there. The Origins Awards nominees will be announced at GTS and hopefully we’ll see a few of those too. And, of course, it’s always nice to spend some time in Vegas (no, not gambling, but eating in fine restaurants and socializing with friends I don’t see as often as I’d like).

Now though, the GAMA nonsense I alluded to in my last entry is putting a pall over the whole show. I’m going to have to go to meetings that are sure to be bile-filled and contentious. I’m going to have to debate with lying sacks of shit I’d rather not even see, let alone talk to. Nicole is likely to be pissed off the entire time as well, which will certainly cut down on the fun aspect of being in Vegas.

It would be so easy to just give up, to let the fuckers win. I just can’t do it though. My bullshit detector is in the red. The lies are piling up, the innuendo doing its dirty work, and the backroom shenanigans are in full effect. Certain people have crossed the line and I’m not going to sit idly by. I can’t, in good conscience. So GTS will certainly be triumphant for Green Ronin, but it’s also going to be bloody and ugly.

As Iggy Pop said, “No fun.”

But as David Farragut said, “Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead!”

I can be a cantankerous son of a bitch when I’m pissed. And I am officially pissed.