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Saturday, 13 June 2020

EDITING STOLE MY TIME: A REPORT FROM A FUGITIVE.


After two years of sound and video editing on a weekly basis, I thought I knew my way around editing. I’d learned the basics the hard way, as usual. No surprises there. I’d set up my boardgame/roleplaying YouTube channel to handle gameplay videos. But I had to learn basic video editing before I combined that skill with table management.
   Table management is the big thing in running boardgames with many moving parts, especially when the management is on behalf of players on other continents. And so…


Four-part scan of the game board, achieved at great risk. I do all my own publicity stunts.

   Week in, week out, I stuck to my cardboard guns and made videos about whatever the hell I wanted to say that week. I stole that idea from this blog. No one is coming to arrest me for stealing from myself.
   The virus is here. And it’s the worst time for a lot of things. Where’s the positivity? For a boardgamer, it’s the best time to game online. I’ve been gaming online with people for weeks on end. And I filmed most of those games, just to pick up hints and tips from myself on how the hell not to do things.
   It’s not all technical. Just feels that way. Finally, press-ganging Canadian author K. Woodward into proceedings, I embarked on an epic saga into the depths of madness. We filmed a game for general consumption.
   Then I edited the hell out of it. Editing stole my time. We played PANDEMIC HOT ZONE: NORTH AMERICA. This is a short experience. It’s a smaller version of the main PANDEMIC game.
   Why choose that smaller one? It arrived on my doorstep and demanded to be played. A smaller shorter game generates computer files that aren’t mega-bulky when that game is filmed. (No, come on, stop laughing. If you aren’t laughing, I have shares in a paperless office to sell you.)
   The mystic calculation involves the square root of the R in the month, but I use a machine for that. Take a short game. Add two authors. Play game with many a diversion into non-game topics: boozy tea, hamster equipment, supervillains…
   You know the drill.
   We came for the banter and banter ate all the cake. More to the point, we enjoyed our daft musings. Well, someone has to enjoy daft musings by law. We had permission, written in crayon on toilet roll.
   Seemed legit.
   It’s a half-hour game. We spent two hours on that. Then editing stole my time. I broke the video into eight sections, and edited one slice each day. After a shade over a week, I’d cut roughly fifteen minutes from the movie.
   What went?


Example of reference cards scanned and beamed to intergalactic players.

   There are things I shouldn’t do when making videos. If I gesture without talking, and delay speaking my thoughts on the original footage until my hand leaves the screen, do I leave the isolated gesture in…or cut it completely?
   It doesn’t matter which version of STAR WARS is out there. I don’t think George Lucas ever fixed a sonic blooper involving Vader and Tarkin. We discover that the Princess lied about the location of the rebel base.
   Pay close attention to Vader’s speech and his gestures in that scene. We’re an hour and three minutes in on the COMPLETE SAGA Blu-ray. Vader’s hand should accompany his speech – very useful when there’s no expression coming at you from the mask. But the movement goes nowhere and achieves nothing.
   It’s tricky to shift the audio around. But I found new ways to do that. Hand gesture and spoken thoughts go together, and you wouldn’t know any different.
   This is about boardgames. If I get a rule wrong and spot it, I leave that in. When two collaborators talk over each other…
   You go first.
   No, you go first.
   I insist.
   No, I insist.
   In the space of no time at all, serving no end, cross-talk dies a death on the editing sword’s keen blade. If I mess up badly and don’t spot a blunder, I am required (by Canadian law) to add a video explanation long after the event.
   What else did I learn? Don’t bump into the camera while talking. If I bump into the camera while making a silent move, I can cut that bump out and delete the silence along with it. There were so many cheeky and tricky sound/vision edits that I lost count.























I count at least 40 editing moves in this small section of gameplay footage. Something tells me there are a few more.

   Part six dragged on in editing. This is after most of a week spent creating an editing machine that moved at a fair clip. I learned lots of new ways to edit. Sometimes I created a blurry transition and just left it in for the hell of it.
   I kept one comedy pause in place for the effect…
   She and I both listened to radio programmes and learned the golden rule. Thirty seconds of silence on radio is punishable by removal from radio. I softened a lot of sharp visual cuts, and that led to snipping away at the silence.
   Rarely, I cut audio altogether and left a blank space for a tiny amount of time, letting microphone-generated sound drop away completely. This is an editing sin if performed to excess.
   I explained in the blurb what was going on, but not too spoilery. Episode seven was particularly annoying to watch, as I burbled nonsense the whole time. I thought I was playing the full game of PANDEMIC and not the shorter version. Basic gaming rule: apply the rules of the game you are playing. It’s easier on all parties concerned.
   Yes, lots of room for improvement in managing the table and the camera. At least future sessions will have better film quality. Zoom is not the great fix for our time. It is simply there. And it records a meeting in audio-visual, with an extra separate audio track. I find that useful, true.
   But the video size shrinks on Zoom. You’d think with a name like that, you’d see more and not less. But I had to zoom in on the footage when editing, to make it fit a YouTube video format. Ah, so that’s why it’s called Zoom.
   The answer, in future, is to film locally and share my screen intergalactically.
   Editing took up my time, and then some. I dropped loads of extra snippets in there to liven up the awkward visuals, and to improve the quality of footage.
   There was no point trying to make it perfect. I stumbled over a few difficult editing moments, but mostly I just rattled through in an effort to get the job done. I’d say we’re on the right track. We go in thinking it’ll be smooth sailing. Look at the pretty storm clouds.
   As I built up to a finished series, the Canadian dropped in to remind me that perfect is the enemy of finished. We’d created a sloppy mess of gameplay that made us laugh, and that was enough…
   My great enemy is autofocus.
   We meet again, at last. When I left, I was but the learner. Now, I just ignore you and get on with it.
   The camera resets focus after every move. Oh, yes, the camera moves. It’s on a rail system that allows it to move forward and back, left and right, up and down…with some adjustment I’ll set the camera to film a few of those rare portrait game boards sideways when needed.
   Game designers. Landscape boards only. See to it.
   That gripe’s not just about the awkwardness of filming portrait boards. When introducing a game to new players, it’s customary for the introducer to sit on one side of the table with the board upside-down. (And if it's a really tedious game, face-down.) When you know the game front to back and back again, you put up with the inconvenience and make the board as easy to understand as possible for the new players on the other side of the board.
   This method is far easier to employ with landscape game boards than it is when using portrait ones. My gaming gripes are always the same. Don’t put your game in a tin. Use black text in your rulebooks, and not white. Put a reference guide on the last page of the rules for ease of use. No portrait game boards. Never get them wet. Don’t feed them after midnight.
   Banter intrudes. Let it leap in.
   I could switch autofocus off, but that leads to other difficulties and it’s easier to put up with the beastie as is. It’s easy enough to edit static autofocus glitches away. Trickier to do that if the camera is on the move. It can be done. Or, at least, the glitch may be lessened.
   Why move the camera at all? For variety. A change of scenery every once in a while does the video some good. I scanned all the game cards and dropped those scans into static shots to waylay the monotony of a static camera.


Infection cards. Coded symbolically, to reduce difficulties with colour blindness.

   Also, I had to keep moving the camera over to the side to show off other areas away from the game board. I could do that with multiple cameras trained on various locations around the table, but the camera is on a rail and I use the rail.
   Game board. Cards on card holders. A display for keeping track of just who the hell goes next. It pays to move the camera selectively. For games behind the scenes, not filmed, I found throwing the camera around offered seasickness to the audience.
   What did I learn from the gameplay video? That I over-corrected the seasickness issue. Here and there, I should’ve moved the camera over to the cards more often, especially when talking about the cards.
   I’d have noticed a massive game blunder in episode seven. Despite my participation, we won the game anyway. Fun was the thing, and the thing was fun. As far as filming gameplay goes, I hope I learned enough filming the first one to make filming and editing the second one far less painful.
   No. Stop laughing. Come on.

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