I'm Baaaaack! Post-Con(s), Hugo Presenter's Speech for Best Game, What's Next

After three weeks of bananapants(1) travel and several attempts to stop doomscrolling(2), I have returned to an overgrown garden and succulents that are so leggy they’d be perfect for the Radio City Rockettes. And then, a deadline. DOM DOM DOM!

But first, this newsletter.

(1) I have yet to draw said bananapants. It’ll happen! If I don’t, I encourage you to!

(2) Don’t know about you, but I am having several moments of cognitive dissonance. Yes, my experiences these past few weeks were wonderful! But also: horrors. A fascist shot a Black disabled military veteran on the waterfront while I was in Seattle. And, on the flight home, I heard a story about a 90+ year-old-man who was flying overseas for a funeral, and wasn’t sure he’d be let back into the country.

Step One: Thank You!

I can’t tell you how much I appreciate all of you. I met several of you during Gen Con and World Con, and it’s wonderful to connect, tell stories, and laugh. I forgot I still had fans of my work out in the wild. I haven’t been going to many conventions these past few years, and it’s easy to get lost in creative solitude.

Thank you for remembering me—especially those of you I hadn't seen for a very long time—and for taking the time. Y’all rock!

Step Two: Caffeinate

I am out of coffee creamer. This is a travesty! Other sources include tea. I’m skeptical. I could go for straight up espresso. Or some chemical confection that should not exist but does. Decisions, decisions.

(Pause for a commercial break. This newsletter format will make sense shortly. I promise.)

I found non-dairy whipped cream in the fridge. Unexpired! I am so happy! Made cappucino with it. Extraordinarily decadent and made of win. Woo!

Step Three: Lunch

I opened the fridge. Checked a few dates. Frowned. Closed it. Heavy sigh. Whipped up pasta bianca. Thankfully, had some minced garlic and asiago.

Step Four: Give a Career Update

So, for those of you who haven’t seen me for a hot minute, the story goes like this: during the Great Pause I made a list of everything that makes me happy and started doing that. I’ve pursued some wonderful opportunities in my existing and adjacent fields. Little sprouts are popping up, but some things are taking longer than I initially expected. Multiple creative industries are on fire right now for multiple reasons ranging from shipping to genAI to tariffs, etc. There’s also been some annoying setbacks related to my website and past works; I do not have the time nor the inclination to fight with Amazon to re-credit myself for my work. I do have to make time to learn WordPress blocks. Meh. In summary: I'm looking ahead, brushing up on my skills, and am keeping my options open for new-to-me opportunities.

Here’s the good news if you haven’t heard: I have a new agent! Her name is Gabrielle Harbowy. I got a chance to hang out with her at Gen Con and World Con. She’s amaze. My convention workshops at both shows were jam-packed-and then some! (Since the folks at Kobold Press sold out of their guidebooks at World Con, I want to point you to Valentinelli on DriveThruRPG, where you'll find over 100 titles I’ve either contributed to or created outright.) My peers were amazeballs on every panel and the Hugo Awards were memorable, too. Wooo!

Looking ahead! I have 7,562 emails to send, then I’ll be flipping back to writing. I have a deadline I need to meet before crushing my To Do list. I had a great response to the Wonderland-themed game Pinching Tarts last year, so I'm also wrapping up a new demo for my guest appearance at Game Hole Con, which takes place in mid-October.

In Real Life MattersTM, I’m winding down on gardening-related projects and will be pulling out lots and lots of yarn to knit a massive blanket. This Fall/Winter I have my creative projects sorted, want to learn how to sew, and am keen on decluttering further. I might even have to gasp attack my digital and analog filing. Clippy is my nemesis. Let us hope they don't make a live action movie out of that monstrosity. Hoping for a restorative and peaceful winter. So say we all.

Step Five: Presenting at the 2025 Hugo Awards

I think the last time I was on an actual theatrical stage, doing a solo bit, was over twenty years ago. It felt weird to be back, but also familiar. Beforehand? Panic. Afterwards, I daydreamed about how I’d have fun with the ceremony; when my creativity kicks in, that’s a sign I’ve had an amazing time.

Before I get to the speech, I want to point out two things: one, it was an absolute honor to introduce stellar finalists in the Best Game or Interactive Works category, and to announce the winner—Caves of Qud! Here, again, is a list of all Hugo Award 2025 finalists and the Hugo Award 2025 winners.

And two, thank you for taking an interest in what I have to say as a presenter. I have included the original speech and, following that, what I had to cut for time.

My Hugos Presenter's Speech

Notes for a 10-Minute Speech Introducing the Finalists for Best Game or Interactive Work Crammed into Two Minutes

(Including this title.)

Hopefully.

Tell a joke.

• If few people laugh, panic.

• If no one laughs, grab a towel.

Pause. Tonal shift.

This year's finalists gift us with the ability to fight literal and metaphorical monsters, solve puzzles, complete quests, and wander in pixelated and hyper-realistic worlds. Monsters like snapjaws, demons, occupants, darknuts, traffic warlocks and the color red.

That said, we're not here to recap gameplay.

Pause.

We're here to honor the teams who are often invisible or grouped under a company or studio name.

Note to self: Look up how many people worked on these titles.

Holy bleep! That's a lot!

A lot of...

stares hard into camera 

Irreplaceable, human creators who collaborated to:

• create characters

• devise narratives

  • build Thedas

    • Hyrule

    • The planet Qud

    • Our world...

      • …but with magic

      • …but after the Fall

      • …but surreal

For us. Game on!

Wait... Pause.

We've already won, thanks to the finalists. Now, it's our turn to honor them.

What I Cut (And Why)

The first bit I cut was to further address the monsters present in each finalist’s game. (This followed the sentence: "Monsters like snapjaws, demons, occupants, darknuts, traffic warlocks and the color red.") I don't want to wax poetically about the different games here, because I think my revision works. Essentially, the point I hoped to make was that games provide us with a healthy outlet to explore different facets of heroism. Games don't just entertain us, they also educate us, if we're willing and open to learn.

I cut this bit, because it does not accomplish what I was trying to say about the power of community, even in a work environment. I felt it drastically downplayed what’s happening in the U.S. and rest of the world right now and, as such, my metaphor didn’t work.

In today's polarizing environment, we can learn a lot from people who work in games. As the finalists have proven, it often takes a village to create a rewarding experience. In that village, you'll find many different kinds of people who share their talents and perspectives for a common goal. Sometimes, the work simply flows. Other times, it is shaped by tight budgets, pressing deadlines, and managerial oversight. No matter the team's size, every person matters and, hopefully, feels proud of the work they've done. Think compromise is a bad word? Look to the people who work in games. Ask them how they've weathered a capitalistic industry to master the art of compromise and collaboration. If it wasn’t for them, we wouldn’t have the games we do.

Lastly, I cut this bit, because it ate up a lot of time. It is the anecdote that means a lot to me, though, and I try to keep this in mind whenever I talk about games.

It is nigh impossible to honor the teams of people who've worked in mobile, computer, and video games, because their names are often left out. It shouldn't be a boss-level difficulty, but it is. Now, you might think this doesn't matter.

I can give you twenty-eight reasons why.

In the Before Times, I met with a classroom full of middle-grade students to talk about game design. Eyes glued to their computer screens, I expected they'd chatter on excitedly, but weren't engaging with me at first. I asked them: "Do you think you could design games, too?" "No," a student said. When I asked why, they responded: "Because there's only one name on the back of the box. I can't do that!"

That moment struck me. Here were twenty-eight, enthusiastic, bright students who all assumed they couldn't design games based on a lack of credits. When I told them that entire teams of people design games, and that they could emulate their heroes? They hopped out of their chairs. With a little nudge, they not only began collaborating, they encouraged each other to tap into their unique talents to design games as a team.

Giving credit where credit is due isn't just free, it's transformative.