Hipshot Manor

As promised, I have not deliberately thought about this while not here working on it. First thing I needed was a name. I like to have a name before I know what's going on; they're more enjoyable if the name has a collaborative part in making the character of a place, rather than being purely a result of it. The name was arrived at by randomly referencing a copy of Mrs Byrnes's Dictionary of Unusual, Obscure and Preposterous Words, a regular first stop when looking for a word without context. Hipshot sounds like a country home of an old rich family, and apparently means having one hip lower than the other due to dislocation. Excellent start.

On Random Reference

This might be obvious to many, but I have met enough people who are surprised by this process to believe it's not quite so ubiquitous. Simply, random reference is picking a book (optionally: at random) from a bookshelf and thumbing through while lazily dragging your eyes across it and letting them land where they like. You might be on the hunt for a word, or a phrase, or an idea, which you pluck out and butcher to make whatever it is you're cooking. You might even take it a step further and engage in full-blown bibliomancy, asking a question and taking your answer from the first place you land. It's an excellent way to get out of a dead end.

This works best with reference books, religious texts and poetry. Prose is a bit too slow in getting to the good bits usually and lacks the concept-density of the others. PDFs don't work at all, it's gotta be a book.

If this sounds confusing, I would suggest just not over thinking it. Understand that the book talks to you, is correct, and you just need to figure out how.

Map Cut-Up

The map is taken wholly from the first floor of Hatfield House. I like to do this at it saves time and ensures an organic, living shape (because people lived in it). The choices come in through how you use it. In this case I enjoy the two wings flying off from the main body, they look like turrets. So that's just what they are now. The bottom block is top-down, the two wings are now side-on cutaways of the turrets that sit on either end of the manor. There's no rule saying we can't wildly change scale or perspective as we please, right? It's a nice way to add verticality to this dungeon without committing to scores of room on each level. It has to be quick(ish). Number them up, slap in some hidden doors as it pleases me, and white out anything I don't like. For now I'll leave the original room labels on since they might provoke something when filling the dungeon later.

What now?

I'm thinking to have a broad filling of the rooms done the next time I sit down. It might not happen, but it pays to be optimistic on these things. If I counted words and pages every day I'd lose hope. This always feels very slow, and maybe the holiday period isn't exactly helping, but then when is ever a good time to create something? What I might lose in routine, I gain in peace over this period.

So next time, I think I'll crack open a copy of The Works of James Gillray and lean on them heavily for the stocking of the house. Something of the tone of Švankmajer's Alice, where the players are a force sent to sweep it all away. I will pick what is interesting, and work them together backwards. Place two things side by side and ask why later.