The Game of Quality

How to make a mythic pattern language

Kevin McGillivray
Foolish Journey
25 min readJan 2, 2021

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In the airplane, black rectangles hang from the ceiling. A salve to ease the burden of our bonds to time.

We have always held forth fictions before a dark background and illuminated the night with stories when all we can do is watch and wait.

In the absence of my friends and without a campfire circle, the black screen encourages me; at least I will be entertained.

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Dear Fellow Fools, Amateurs, Wizards, Divers, Hearthtenders, Druids, Bards, Warlocks, Scoundrels, Nobles, and Rogues —

Last time we spoke, we mused about pattern languages, both mythic and mundane, and how sharing patterns with each other might be one way to…

  • Rebuild the mythic realm and navigate the meaning crisis?
  • Move toward future relevance? Relate at higher levels of complexity?
  • Imbue our days, relationships, and works with the Quality Without a Name?

In general, to live more poetically, freely, wholly within ourselves and with other people, and to tune our perceptions to better sense the shifting and nebulous yet patterned meaning all around us.

We’ve doubled down on weirdness, maybe even quadrupled down, and now I’d like to leave the clouds and lightly touch the ground to share a classic down-to-earth how-to guide based on my experiments with mythic pattern languages over the past year. A guidebook for a game I’ve been calling The Game of Quality.

If Dr Jason Fox’s Ritual of Becoming/Character Handbook is a player’s handbook/spellbook for mythic mode, perhaps this is a hint toward a potential outline of a Game Master’s Guide/Worldbuilder’s Manual for mythic mode. It’s a practical game manual for creating sacred/arcane patterned places in which myths might emerge, and for day-to-day navigation in the mythic realm in between washing the dishes and joining the next video chat.

The metamanual: secrets of patternfinding

Whoops, this game manual starts with a meta game manual to read first. And it’s not really a rulebook, it’s more like a series of clues that hint toward even more secrets… it’s a pre-pre-game manual that is itself a mystery game! This is likely to get meandering and disorienting, but I promise there will be a fun game and even some dice rolling later. Every good game night starts with someone reading the rules, even if it’s hard to follow and it would be more fun to just start playing. If you’d like, please feel free to skip the tutorial and I’ll catch up with you further down the page. Otherwise, join me as we examine three mysterious clues on our quest to discern the Secrets of Patternfinding.

1. Better than random

We’re here to talk about patterns and pattern languages, and it’s difficult to define what a pattern is. We considered it briefly last time, but it’s worth revisiting before we dive deeper.

Patterns are a “term of art” commonly used in the context of both physical building and software design, but the principles can be abstracted to many contexts. Here’s a very incomplete sketch of a definition: a pattern is a repeatable structure that stabilizes forces at play in a complex system.

Gordon Brander’s sketch is also illuminating here:

It’s a pattern when it does better than random.

In the randomness of life, patterns emerge on their own. When a structure “does better” at resolving tension between forces than default randomness (the garden is just far back enough from the public street that it gives the gardener the right amount of privacy, the kitchen table has the right amount of light to focus attention toward the center, the fish survives to create another generation, the riverbank holds steady against the flow of the water, particles coalesce into a planet), it is more likely to be repeated in loops and cycles, thus making a pattern.

It takes great care and patience to discern a pattern. Randomness may appear patterned when it isn’t, and a true pattern often appears random at first due to its organic complexity. However, once even a single pattern is perceived in the nebulous clouds, no matter how simple, it’s difficult to tell what is random and what is pattern. The randomness becomes part of the meta pattern, a negative space defined by its absence and always in relation to it.

A key characteristic of patterns is that they are temporarily stable yet not permanently fixed. A pattern that was once stable may become unstable and fade away due to a change in its context. A pattern may be forgotten not because it stopped being useful but just by chance, or because a new pattern supersedes it (for better or worse). New patterns emerge as other patterns shift around, and each specific instance of a pattern is similar yet distinct from other instances of the same pattern, like leaves on a tree.

The relationship between apparent disordered randomness and evolving pattern is the first clue in the Secrets of Patternfinding. In navigating the meaning crisis, we are confronted with seemingly incoherent and disorienting forces. Luckily, patterns thrive in randomness. Where there is constantly shifting randomness, patterns emerge, no matter how slowly or how small. They’re an antifragile response to chaos and absurdity — infinitely adaptable and evolving within newly emerging contexts, as long as we don’t cling to them too tightly or let go of them too quickly. Sometimes we are too eager to abandon a reliable pattern for an untested novel idea, or too hesitant to let go of a favorite old pattern when a promising new pattern emerges.

With even a single, shifting landmark of pattern to navigate by, the apparent meaninglessness isn’t quite so terrifying or inescapable, and we might even learn how to enjoy being disoriented for a while, knowing we’ll have a safe harbor to find again. The lesson patterns teach is that we don’t need unquestionable, permanent, stable meaning to navigate. We can adapt and find centers of meaning everywhere in the nebulosity.

2. The wholeness from which it came

When a pattern emerges, being better than random is only a starting point. After a pattern is established, it tends to continue evolving morphogenetically, like a cell dividing again and again into a more complex organism. It starts as a whole and evolves in a way that maintains its wholeness within rather than being expanded with external additions or starting over from pure randomness again. Patterns are characterized by wholeness and roughness — they are complete without being finished and ordered without being organized.

Patterns flow into to one another in a logical grammar. Larger patterns are comprised of smaller patterns, and when listed in an ordered sequence or laid out in a semi-lattice chart, they describe a comprehensible whole that anyone can understand and re-create. If you can find one pattern, it’s likely you can find another next to, inside, or surrounding it, and gradually discover a coherent pattern language within complexity, at least until they inevitably evolve again.

When humans are involved, the wholeness of the “forces at play” includes the humans themselves and their relationships with each other — their whole selves, each their own universe-sized bundle of layered complexity. A pattern within a home or neighborhood or smart phone app must consider the needs, social roles, and shared relationships of the people who live within or use the space to be effective, and every pattern will naturally encourage or discourage the particular human activities, rituals, and events that repeatedly play out within the space.

This intrinsic wholeness is the second clue in the Secrets of Patternfinding. In the meaning crisis, we experience a disintegration, a loss of belonging and connection to a whole, within ourselves and within a community. We know we can’t rely on outmoded traditions, tribes, and roles built on the belief in an eternal, fixed meaning, because meaning itself isn’t eternal and fixed. We know patterns are temporary and shifting, and yet they are characterized by a hidden wholeness/holiness that includes our own needs and inner forces. Perhaps by discerning pattern languages more sensitively, we can find a way toward coherence and wholeness amidst disorientation and fragmentation and we can discover what is whole/holy for us, for now.

3. Mundane, metaphorical, and mythic perception

Patterns are practical to the point of being mundane. They’re so commonplace and useful that we talk about and use them all the time without realizing it. They shape our homes, neighborhoods, software, tools, stories, and art, and we use them to answer common, day-to-day questions. How should we arrange the kitchen counters? Where should we plant the vegetable garden? Which office chair should I buy? Why does this street feel dull and unfriendly and that one feels cozy and lively?

Patterns are so essential to us as embodied beings that we translate patterns from physical spaces into metaphors to make sense of digital “space.” We imagine websites and software as places we move within through metaphorical sense perception, and distribute the complexity of our selves and our social roles across an array of online homes.

Our common fluency with patterns and ability to translate them in metaphorical layers is the third clue in the Secrets of Patternfinding. We’re already adept at making metaphorical places for our roles to inhabit. The roleplaying we used to do in sacred sites and rituals now takes place in a different form online. But the power to invoke a metaphorical lens to transform mundane patterns is still there.

This is the essence of mythic mode— seeing the mundane through archetypes and metaphor, to see through the overwhelming stimuli in our senses and perceive underlying pattern. Seemingly mundane patterns are halfway in the archetypal realm already.

We’ve discussed how patterns shape the rituals, activities, and relationships we can access. A place made with a clear and coherent pattern language is a place that cares for the needs and well-being of the people who live there. If we apply a metaphorical, archetypal lens to the patterns, perhaps we can also discover previously hidden mythic patterns that enable us to shape the mythic realm itself, and allow us to freely participate in new rituals and relationships in which new myths emerge. We can’t do anything directly to make myth happen. But we can prepare places in which myth might emerge, and be prepared to enter the myth and improvise within it when it does.

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The Game of Quality

Finally, it’s time to roll some dice and play the game. Well, almost. It’s time to read the main game manual, and then roll some dice.

This is the Game of Quality. The object of the game is to move toward future relevance, create a world more curious and kind, cultivate quality time with our favorite interests, people, and ourselves, rebuild the mythic realm, and imbue our days with the Quality Without a Name. But also, it’s to see what happens next and enjoy not knowing where we’re going.

As the game unfolds, new myths are made. However, rather than crafting a myth from preconceived ideas, we’re going to carefully and patiently discern patterns which we may weave together to create a space in which myth might emerge on its own. We don’t know what’s going to happen when we start playing, and that’s the point of mythic mode — to immerse in the story and navigate the unknown. In other words, we’re preparing for group improvisation as metamodern roleplayers.

Mythic roleplaying

I play a weekly tabletop roleplaying game with a group of friends. Each week we gather around the virtual table to roll dice, improvise, and embark on imaginary fantastic adventures. In my role as the Game Master, I need to be ready for the unexpected. I go into the game with an idea of what might happen, but neither I nor the other players know what will happen until it actually happens at the table. It’s a weekly exercise in thinking on our feet and preparing for the unknown. Often the story that emerges surprises all of us in its excitement, humor, and drama, even though none of us knew where it would take us when we started.

As the game master, I’m guided by an essential text that helps me prepare for these unpredictable adventures: Return of the Lazy Dungeon Master by Sly Flourish. The book is pitched as a way to quickly prepare for a fun game for people who don’t want to or can’t spend hours or days each week preparing ahead of time, but it’s also a guide for improvising your way through a fantastic story in general, in a way that makes the game exciting and fun for everyone. To get ready for our game each week, I run through the Lazy Dungeon Master’s Checklist from the book, and it leaves me feeling just prepared and flexible enough to respond to any unexpected event in the game, and ready to integrate any randomly emerging threads of story into a coherent narrative.

Tabletop roleplaying games are a structure in which stories emerge collaboratively with no preconceived idea or fixed ending, which is exactly what we hope to do in the Game of Quality. What if the Lazy Dungeon Master’s Checklist could be translated as a kind of template for mythic pattern languages?

How to make a mythic pattern language

Before we play, we’ll make a mythic pattern language using a series of questions. A mythic pattern language is made of characters, places, scenes, secrets, “monsters,” and treasures, grouped together in a chapter of varying lengths (more on each of these soon). Together, these categories make a sketch of potentialities, of what might emerge. My painting teacher calls sketching “being accurate within a range of uncertainty.” And that’s exactly what we’re doing with a mythic pattern language. We don’t know what will happen, but we can roughly shape and prepare for what might happen.

Ready? We’re going to start. Grab your sketchbook and fountain pen, and we’ll run through the checklist and make a mythic pattern language.

What’s the cycle / time scale / floop size?

You can sketch a mythic pattern language for any span of time — for a single day, a particular upcoming event, for a week, six weeks, ten days, a month, or a whole year or season. Or perhaps even a “floop”, such as a moon cycle. A floop is a word Buster Benson is using to describe a fractal time loop marked by natural events such as the orbits of celestial bodies. (I’ll link to his post about it here if he shares one.)

Floops drawing by Buster Benson.

A key distinction is that we’re not creating a deadline here. We’re not planning for what we should or must do by a particular moment. We’re imagining a span of time as a blank canvas, and sensing what might emerge, rather than forcing what we think should happen, or else.

Right now, it’s around the new year, so you might be considering the year ahead or the next few months. Or you might be considering a few days or weeks ahead. The longer the time frame, the rougher the overall shape of our pattern language will be. Either way, choose a time frame you’d like to try to imbue with a bit more myth and meaning.

Who is your character?

As metamodern roleplayers, we acknowledge that we are always playing roles in the world, and that the wholeness of who we are can never be fully summarized by any particular role. In this step, we want to better understand the roles we play, and also look at them through a mythic/archetypal lens so we might start to imagine how those roles might emerge within the game/story. This step has a fundamental shaping influence on the rest of the game and delving into self knowledge and self development is a tricky task layered with complexity, so it’s worth taking our time here.

In a game like Dungeons & Dragons, this is where we would be choosing a character class and crafting our character’s background story. In the Game of Quality, it’s applying a mythic lens directly to your own “in real life” roles and narratives you hold about yourself that shape your character. The most wondrous way I know to approach this step is to dive into Dr Jason Fox’s Ritual of Becoming program, wherein you might choose one word to represent the potential archetypal themes for the year ahead. Are you a diver, wizard, or sage? Are you a knight, healer, or astronaut? Are you a fool, rebel, or detective?

At minimum, at this step I would suggest making a list of the “mundane” roles you feel you play in your life, and the roles you think you might like to play in the future. Then, look at the list through a mythic lens. What might the archetypal name of those roles be? (Here are some good resources for finding archetype names: 99 Archetypes and Stock Characters, The Ultimate List of Archetypes.) This question alone contains endless depths and facets to explore, and might be one to revisit to explore deeper.

What other characters might we meet?

People and relationships are at the heart of every story. In a mythic pattern language, we consider the people who may participate in the story with us.

Squad goals. Illustration of our D&D group’s characters by Joshua Atkins.

Make a list of the people in your life likely to make an appearance during the cycle you’ve sketched out, especially the people you would like to spend quality time with during the cycle. If you’re playing this game with others, perhaps they’ve also chosen an archetypal word for themselves for the year, and you can list their self-chosen roles as well. Take a few moments to think about these people and what you know about them. What are their hopes and dreams? What are their interests or challenges? Do they have any significant birthdays or personal anniversaries approaching? What are you curious to know more about them? The intersection of all the players’ archetypes and their relationships to each other will deeply shape the myths that emerge.

You might not write much down here other than a list of names, but perhaps you’ll choose to journal about these people to explore the questions above and reflect on your relationships with them.

What fantastic locations might we discover or create?

This is where a mythic pattern language intersects directly with the pattern languages we use to shape our homes and neighborhoods. Every story takes place in an array of fantastic locations. Our homes and neighborhoods may seem a bit mundane, and we may dream of traveling to far away exciting places. Here we enchant both familiar and unfamiliar places so they might become waypoints to perceive the myth emerging in our day-to-day routines. As we explored in the Secrets of Patternfinding, the places we shape and live in have a powerful influence on the activities, rituals, and “scenes” that play out in our days. By perceiving these places through the mythic lens and imbuing them with mythic perception, we might enable deeper activities and rituals and discover hidden meanings.

At this step, make a list of fantastic imaginary locations, places you could imagine reading about in a story or seeing in a movie. For inspiration, consider your character archetype and the other characters from the previous step. My chosen word for last year was “Diver,” and my fantastic locations included the Reef of Small Wonders, the Cozy Sailboat Cabin, the Convivial Kitchen, the Ocean of Disorientation, the Treehouse Studio, and many others. A wizard might have a wizard’s tower, a pirate might have a secret deserted island, and a dreamer might have an old oak tree for long naps. Also consider the real places where you live or you might visit during the cycle and imagine what their archetypal name might be. Your neighborhood cafe might have a mythic name that doesn’t necessarily relate to your role or word, but still might serve as a location in a mythic story. These places may be very large, like an entire region on a map, such as a vast Hinterland, or they may be small, like a cozy reading corner in a library.

This list can be very loose — a list of names and perhaps three or five imaginary features you might see at each location. But you can also go a bit deeper. You might decide to draw a fantastic map showing how these locations relate to one another, or even invite the people you listed in the previous step to suggest locations or share how they imagine the locations you’ve identified in collaborative map making. Keep in mind that we may not be able to predict the locations we might discover, and we might not end up visiting every location we imagine.

Screenshot from an online game of The Deep Forest by Mark Diaz Truman and Avery Alder

What scenes might occur?

Based on the locations and characters you’ve sketched, you might already be imagining those characters interacting, or imagining what activities or events might happen if the characters visit these fantastic locations. For this step, make a very sketchy list of scenes that might occur. Again, let the character archetype you’ve chosen serve as inspiration. In the Diver archetype, I imagined myself going on dives exploring the Ocean of Disorientation, hiding away in a lighthouse writing correspondence to far away comrades, and swapping stories and songs with friends in the Campfire Cove.

Later, these imagined scenes may map to actual “real life” activities you do, either on your own or with others. However, keep in mind that this isn’t a list of goals or a scheduled plan, it’s only an informed guess at what conversations, activities, and moments might emerge in the game ahead. Through another lens, these might be translated as goals — “I’m going to write more”, or “I’m going to spend more quality time with this person”, or “I’m going to learn how to draw” — but with the mythic lens we acknowledge the complexity and unpredictability of life. While we might hope or expect certain scenes might occur, we must be ready to throw it all away if something else emerges in the game itself. When the game starts, we watch and respond to what actually happens rather than insisting on a particular outcome and feeling ashamed if we don’t “achieve” that outcome or it doesn’t play out the way we expected.

What secrets, clues, and questions might we share?

Every good story has a mystery at its center. Some unknown answer to a question and a slow drip of unraveling clues and hints that hook you into the story. Ideally, there are also some good cliffhangers and dramatic reveals. In a myth, we may never find any final answers, but we may find ever more clues and deeper questions together.

Here, make a list of questions you’re wondering about. They can be big, turtle-y questions, or very small and practical questions. Most likely they’ll relate in some way to your character role and your relationships with other characters in the game. “How might we rebuild the mythic realm?” is a nice, big question that led to this post. “How might I connect with my friend who moved far away?” is a tricky, engaging question. “What kind of job should I look for?” is another complex one. These are questions that feel important, but with very unclear or multiple conflicting answers.

In a non-mythic mode, we might try to find final, concise answers to questions like these. But in mythic mode, these questions are likely to evolve into more questions or to be answered in a parable or shifting pattern. You might ask other people playing the game with you what questions they’re wondering about, and together then make a list of hints and clues you’ve discovered that might lead to answers to these questions (while acknowledging it’s unlikely any answers will actually be discovered).

What “monsters” might we meet?

In many myths, monstrous beings like minotaurs, cyclops, hydras, krakens, and dragons appear. In Hero’s Journey stories, these creatures are often mistreated and harmed at the hands of the so-called “hero.” Often they simply represent the fears we hold about the unknown and uncertain. In the mythic pattern language, we’ll take a view of monsters less as evil, ugly, and wicked, and more as an embodiment of their root word, monere, a “warning.”

The Tarrasque

A monster might be a personal challenge you often face in the form of self sabotage, conflicting values, or hidden commitments. Or it might be a thorny, wicked problem within your community that is difficult to untangle. In each case, it’s helpful to keep in mind that in the world of myth the best way to interact with a monster is likely not to try to slay it. The monsters provide important messages, warnings, and portents, and from their perspective we might be the “monsters.”

Make a list of “monsters” you imagine you might meet, either on your own or in your community. They might be difficult-to-shake habits that you tend to avoid dealing with like “overworking and burnout” or “drinking too much caffeine.” Or they might be large problems that are so scary you don’t really want to look directly at them, like “climate change.” Yikes. Indeed, there are monsters here.

What treasures might we discover?

Gold, powerful tools, lost tomes of valuable knowledge… rare and wondrous items dot mythic stories like stars. What mysterious, magical, or valuable items do you hold, seek, or craft? Perhaps your coffee mug is a Vessel of Nobility. Perhaps your smart phone is a Scrying Slab of Cursed Scrolling. Perhaps the painting you’re working on will become a Canvas of Sensory Revelations. Or perhaps the guitar in your living room might become an Instrument of Charming in the right hands or moment. For inspirational examples of mundane items possessing mythic powers, consider The Crock and Dish of Rhygenydd Ysgolhaig.

Easy meal prep for a family of five, or an ancient and beguiling artifact of fantastic power???

This is a bit of both “enclothed cognition” and pattern magic. Just as a place can be a center of gravity that points toward particular activities and events, the crafted objects in our life might become touchpoints for entering mythic mode throughout the days and weeks of the game. Make a list of objects you frequently “bump into” in your daily routines, or objects that you may wish to create or acquire, and list them by their mythic names. You might also decide to briefly describe their qualities and mysterious powers if you have discerned them, although most often you might only know their name and their powers only become evident later.

What might be the strong start?

Now we’ve identified all the elements of our story — characters, locations, scenes, props, and the beginnings of some tantalizing mysteries. Now it’s time to play, so we have one last step to prepare. We need to make a magic circle.

All play moves and has its being within a play-ground marked off beforehand… Just as there is no formal difference between play and ritual, so the ‘consecrated spot’ cannot be formally distinguished from the play-ground. The arena, the card-table, the magic circle, the temple, the stage, the screen, the tennis court, the court of justice, etc, are all in form and function play-grounds, i.e. forbidden spots, isolated, hedged round, hallowed, within which special rules obtain. All are temporary worlds within the ordinary world, dedicated to the performance of an act apart.
Johan Huizinga, Homo Ludens: A Study of the Play-Element in Culture

The time and space for playing needs a clear marker, a boundary, so we know we can safely immerse fully in the game and exit again when necessary. Us tired and stuffy adults might also need a bit of encouragement to shed our practical, serious concerns and deeply enter an improvisational, uncertain space. The solution to both to decide on a strong start to kick off the “magic circle” and dive in to mythic mode.

This might be a clear change in scenery, especially a visit to a fascinating place you’ve never been to before. Or it might be a change in routine, such waking up earlier or later than normal one day and doing something you don’t normally do first thing in the morning. It might be a plan to catch up with a friend, or ordering that thing you’ve been dreaming of buying. Anything a bit out of the ordinary to kick off the game and mark the beginning of a new story.

The Magic Circle, John William Waterhouse, 1886

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Playing the game: grab your dice and spreadsheets

There are many ways to play the Game of Quality, and I can only share suggestions from my own experiences. To be honest, the game is in a perpetual state of beta testing and shifting “rules.” Most of the rules are made up along the way. You might discover other ways to play, and I hope you’ll share them with me if you do. For what it’s worth, here are a few ways I’ve played.

🤿 Dive in

Let’s say our game is a floop of ten days. On the first day, dive in to the strong start you’ve sketched. From this first step we learn the first lesson of mythic mode: just because you’ve chosen a strong start to prepare doesn’t mean it’s going to happen. Something else might come up that makes you change your idea and think on your feet. Be ready to improvise. The game is about watching what happens as both player and character, not forcing a pre-conceived idea to happen exactly as you imagined it. All of our preparation was only to tune our senses toward what might happen, not what will happen.

If you have several ideas for ways to kick off the game, perhaps roll a die to choose one. We want to lean into random emergence (more on this shortly).

🧙🏻‍♀️ Imbue the mythic in the mundane

As you move through each day, pay attention to which scenes are emerging in the “mundane” level of experience. Perhaps you’re joining a meeting, or making coffee, or having a conversation with a friend. This isn’t so different from “normal” life, after all. But, as you do so or later as you reflect on the day, consider what their mythic mode name might be. Is your coffee mug one of the treasures from your pattern language? Is your desk one of the potential fantastic locations you’ve identified? Do you find yourself embodying some aspect of your character role as you talk with your friend, or perhaps not so much?

Consider if there are ways you could imbue a bit more of the mythic version of the pattern in the scene. If you rearranged the items on your desk, would it better evoke the energy and purpose of the Cozy Sailboat Cabin pattern? If you went for a walk in the neighborhood, how would you move or dress if you were playing your role a bit more fully? If your mug were magical, would you take a bit more care in washing it and placing it safely in the cupboard?

The next time you expect similar scenes might emerge (these are repeated patterns after all, they will emerge again and again during the game), experiment further and see if you can make small adjustments beforehand to imbue a bit more of the mythic mode into places, conversations, objects, and actions. These adjustments might appear very minor on the mundane level, but may have mysterious effects on the mythic level.

Keep in mind that a mythic pattern can be evoked anywhere you might need it. Any place can be transformed into a fantastic location with small adjustments. The Convivial Campfire can emerge around any table or circle of friends at any moment, if we take a moment to evoke it. The Dark Forest can be explored on any properly brooding and unknown path. If you don’t believe me, ask any young human to show you how to do it.

📚 Keep a journal (or a spreadsheet)

What would a roleplaying game be without a character sheet? Boring! We need a place to keep track of what’s happened, happening, and will happen in the game. I write down my fantastic locations, potential scenes, characters, treasures, and all the other parts of the mythic pattern language in a spreadsheet (you might also do the same, whether on screen or paper). This spreadsheet is peppered with emoji symbols that serve as shorthand.

As I play the game, I keep a daily journal in the same spreadsheet (as often as I remember… there are no required tasks in this game). This is a bit like keeping track of turns in a game. Many days I’ll start by making a mini pattern language for the day for what I expect might emerge. Our forecasts get more accurate the shorter the time span. I might also identify what I feel is a primary focus for the day or perhaps each day in the week ahead: people, interests, or self (always keeping in mind what I expect may not become true).

This priming step re-tunes my perception and orients me toward what I might do to imbue mythic mode into the day. Later in the day, I often reflect on what actually happened. I’ll write down the scenes that emerged, and where I imagined them taking place. For example, if I spent the day at work on web development, I might write: “Built websites in the Treehouse Studio.” Of course, I was actually sitting at my desk, but mythically speaking I was in a treehouse.

As I look backward and forward over several days like this, I often see patterns emerge. Maybe I’ve been spending a lot of time in a particular location and haven’t visited others in a while, and that’s why I’m feeling a bit dull and unfocused. Maybe a significant scene I thought would emerge by now hasn’t, and I might be curious about why. As a result of these patterns, I might make some adjustments to encourage a change of direction or scenery, to see what happens. At this point, I often start to feel a sense of flow, curiosity, play, and wonder about how life is unfolding — a strong contrast from feelings of self-shame, judgement, and frustration people often feel when trying to set goals or meet resolutions.

🎲 Lean in to random emergence (dice and decks)

This is a new idea I haven’t tried yet. Consider making a paper or digital card for each location, monster, treasure, character, and secret/clue in your pattern language. Shuffle the locations and flip the top three or five over. Shuffle the remaining cards together and place an equal number in a pile below each location. When you find yourself in one of the locations, look at the cards in the pile. It’s your very own tarot/oracle reading from your own mythic pattern language! I have no idea what will happen if you try this. What does it reveal about your experiences? How does it change your perception of the place or moment? Pattern emerges in randomness. So lean in to random.

🛠 Build together

Pattern languages truly come to life when they are shared and spoken in a community. This is where isolated personal mythologies might become shared. As you play the game and interact with people playing other characters and roles, you might find your individual stories weaving together in complex ways. You might have a chance to expand your own language and contribute to others through common patterns. A bit like a multiplayer Minecraft server.

Building together doesn’t even require talking about mythic mode explicitly. In fact, it’s more fun if you don’t (characters in a story don’t usually talk about how they’re characters in a story… but sometimes they do). But you might find unexpected and subtle new ways to relate at deeper levels of complexity as you build up mythic-level awareness of the patterns others in your community are shaping.

🤷🏻‍♂️ Enjoy unknowing

All that’s left now is to immerse in the story, with only a fuzzy idea of where it might be headed. It might not even have a clear ending when the cycle is over, but at that point you might be able to look back on the game and see what story emerged, how your understanding of the characters, places, and secrets shifted, and which new patterns might be taking shape that may emerge in the next game. Or, it might be time to throw it away and start a new myth all over again. Either way, the dice will keep rolling and the Game of Quality continues…

Fresco of dice players in Pompeii

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