by Simon

Greetings, pathetic mortals! He-who-must-not-be-flamed here.

My liege, the White Queen of the Lower Lands, has commissioned I, He-who-must-not-be-flamed (but you may call me "He") to go amongst you with tales of how I overcame the evil dragon that threatened our village, using only my skills as a creator of "very good games" to outwit the aforesaid abomination with the pretty wings and lovely deep blue-red eyes.

It all began many years ago as I toyed by the Fireside...

Yea, verily were the winter nights cold and long as the fire crackled and popped and lo, there was nothing on TV. And so, as I dreamed about the spring to come, the blue skies, and the flowers that accompanied it, I was visited by an image of myself, He-who-must-not-be-flamed ("Oy, You!" to my paying customers), autographing a box. And yes, was the box verily verily good.

And tho' I may walk through the valley of the five caverns after breakfast, it seemed to me that the people would love and honor one whose game came out and could be played with a lofty theme and much laughter and occasional derision.

And so I came up with a game about auctioning tulips.


And verily, the game was so good that my friends asked me to make them a copy to play with their brethren and sisters. And forsooth, although my mind does not easily turn away from modest thought, was I amazed and impressed because it was only made of cardboard chits and pretend flowers of the color-blind friendly type.

But nature moves in mysterious ways, and so after much pondering by pools and lackadaisical listening to lakes, and playing with my drawing app, did I grant the pleasure of my company to a gathering of knights of the round gaming table. And yea, did they agree to play my game after much arm-twisting and passing of cash under the table, and realizing they had nothing better to do. And after much pressing, the people were impressed and called me by my full name (He-who-must-not-be-flamed Weinberg) and yet others were happy to call me by my self-appointed nickname ("Who?") and the people laughed and were happy and the price of milk went down and birds appeared once more in nearby forests and the hummus was fresh and without sesame paste.

And yet, my lily-livered and quite frightened friends, be you only of little mental capacity and quite off your heads to have read as far as this paragraph, was there no knight, lady, or even jester or servant or scullery person brash enough to partake in the sweet wine of success that I offered, should they wish to put my game in a box with proper artwork and sell it to unsuspecting merchants or the lowly geek of little renown. And low, low low, low low low...life was hard and no one liked "Tulips" and I changed my name to "he-who-is-wasting-his-time, get a proper hobby".

But, then, like the famed phoenix rising from the misty and mysterious shores of the great kingdoms of the West, but smelling so much better, and not from Arizona, did I encounter on a dusky road at the break of dawn the White King and Queen.

Yes, they who shall be known henceforth (at least) only as "amazing people who believed in me"; they who play many times undaunted at the Fireside, sometimes playing games, too, did play my game and said, "We love you, He" — to which I replied, "Who, me?" and they said, "Yes, you" and all was sweetness and the coffee flowed unquenchably and the tulips were removed surgically and I said yes and signed a contract.


And so the quest began in earnest. From tulip fields in the Lowlands we traveled to many higher lands, from mythical creatures of the middle ages ("not funny") to mermaids of the middle ages ("I like the trident") to finally arrive in the world of Castle Panic ("It's still in the middle-ages") and behold, the dragon arose from their minds like a big dragon thing, and spread its wings, overshadowing all other plans as it breathed fire into the game box and destroyed it accidentally.


And yea, there were many ups and downs and lots of sticking and puzzling and talking and heart-to-hearts — but enough about my love life. Then they got back to me, and so my humble invention was reborn in the magnificent guise of a game that actually looks amazing and lo, were we wowed by how ace we are at this and we must do this again soon. And pretty villages rose out of the depths of our minds, leaving all the non-PG stuff behind, of course, and bribes replaced tulips and the game system was refined and improved and the people spoke and their will was done and The King and Queen were happy and all was good.

The End! of the Beginning...



•••

Fireside Games hosted a pre-release party for Please Don't Burn My Village! at a special overnight event attended by influencers, enthusiasts, and their families in Ravenwood Castle, Ohio on May 1-2, 2025. We had 30-odd people playing copies of the game, followed by dinner and a Q&A panel about game designing, pitching, the making of media content, and publishing. After that, we had a game signing and some fun playtesting. The venue was terrific — a miniature castle in the deep countryside.

For me, it was both mind-blowing and gratifying to watch people playing my first published game, particularly when they played it four times in a row!

Simon Weinberg