TEXT: Ribbon
       Drive
  Ribbon
       Drive
  we tell stories about letting go on the open road.
  
  Dedications
  Daniel Wood,
   
  If doubt is to be our vehicle, let us hope the gas tank’s full.
  Jackson Tegu,
   
  Some truckers say you win when you lose some.
  Credit Where Due
  Writing and layout by Joe Mcdaldno.
  Endless support from Jackson Tegu, 
  Daniel Wood, and Ben Lehman.
  Text in Gill Sans.
  Examples in Adobe Caslon Pro.
  Title on cover in Thirsty Rough.
  Front cover photo by Vitaly Korovin
  Back cover photo by Kevin Allen Jr.
  For more, visit www.buriedwithoutceremony.com/ribbon-drive
  
  I’m going somewhere, and I want you to join me. It’s a place that always 
  seems just past our reach. A mixture of myth and reality. This place, it 
  smells familiar, and yet it beats the heart like first times do. It’s wedged 
  between a mix tape, a throw-away comment and  a shifter. 
  It’s going to take a lot  of open road to get to.
  But open road’s all we’ve ever really got, anyway.
  What This Is
  Ribbon Drive is a story game. It involves creating and pretending and 
  collaborating. We play the game by telling a story together, about a road trip 
  and the people touched by it. We do this in the comfort of a living room, over 
  the course of 3-5 hours. All we need to play is this book, some pens & scraps 
  of paper, several music playlists or mixes, and something to play them on.
  At the start of the game, we each create a character - one of the people 
  going on this road trip. During the game, we bring these characters to life 
  by pretending to be them and making decisions about their actions. These 
  characters are our individual responsibilities, but we also have a shared 
  responsibility: to describe the rest of the world that exists around them. We’ll all 
  contribute to narrating the obstacles and scenery that our characters encounter.
  In Ribbon Drive, we create stories about letting go on the open road. We 
  draw inspiration from road movies like Wristcutters, Everything Is Illuminated, 
  Broken Flowers, or Thelma & Louise. Our ultimate goal is to create a thought-
  provoking, meaningful experience. We let the music guide us. We let the road 
  throw us curves. We rethink our attachment to the future.
  The rest of this book will show us how.
  
  Making Mixes
  Some work must be done before playing Ribbon Drive. Luckily, it’s the fun 
  sort of work, the joyful obsessive type. Each person who will be playing needs 
  to create a playlist or mix (agree beforehand on what formats will work for 
  your group: CD, cassette, or digital device). There are a few guidelines for 
  creating mixes: they must be 30-70 minutes long, have a running theme, and 
  have an interesting, descriptive title. We all bring our mixes to the game, along 
  with print-outs for the lyrics of the first two tracks.
  The game works best if we don’t discuss the mix themes beforehand, and just 
  see what gets brought to the table. It’s interesting and challenging when there 
  are lots of similar themes, except for a single curve-ball. Once, I played in a 
  game where there was a punk mix, two dramatic indie-rock mixes, one really 
  eclectic rock mix, and then... a soft rock/pop mix populated exclusively by 
  cheery songs about marriage. It worked out really well in the end, taking the 
  story down an interesting detour we wouldn’t have ever seen otherwise.
  You, me, and a mutual friend agree to play a game of Ribbon Drive on 
  Friday. We all go home and make mixes beforehand. Yours is called Anxiously 
  We Go, and is about the thin line between hope and doubt. You included some 
  Mountain Goats, a Modest Mouse song, and lots of weird bands that I’ve 
  never heard before. My mix is called Heard Through Thin Walls, and is 
  about jealousy, messy relationships, and small communities. It includes some 
  Tegan & Sara as well as The Cranberries. Our friend made a mix called Die 
  Happy, full of emo and pop-punk songs about bad breakups. It’s got some 
  My Chemical Romance and Misfits. We all brought the lyrics to our first two 
  tracks. My second track doesn’t have any lyrics, which is okay - I just brought 
  the lyrics for track one. We’re now ready to play.
  
  The First Two Songs
  Once we’re all gathered with our mixes in hand, we can begin playing. We 
  randomly determine the order that our mixes will play in. We get the first mix 
  ready to play. The first stage of play is a series of visioning exercises where 
  we determine the nature of the road trip, who is on the trip, and what these 
  people are like. These visioning exercises are guided by the music.
  We play the first song, and listen to it in silence. Whoever brought this mix 
  should put out the song’s lyrics - people can choose to read along as the song 
  plays, or just close their eyes and take it in. Once the song is over, we pause 
  the mix and decide what our road trip is going to be like, inspired directly 
  from that first song. Some things that we might decide at this point: where 
  we’re going, why, what brought us together, and our expectations for the trip. 
  This discussion can take anywhere from 30 seconds to 10 minutes, depending 
  on the song and how the group dissects it.
  I’ve found the listening silently part to be really difficult. It’s an intensely personal 
  and intimate thing, to just be silent with others, listening and contemplating. 
  We’re not accustomed to it, or at least I wasn’t, until I played this game over 
  and over again. There are a few helpful strategies for bridging this possible 
  discomfort. Keep in mind that different interpretations are good, and that there 
  is no right answer. Further, it’s good if different people have different depths of 
  interpretation - if you are analyzing all of the intense subtext of a song, and I’m 
  just focusing on literal words, that’s good and fine! We’ll both be contributing 
  unique things to the conversation afterwards. No matter how we approach 
  these songs, we’re doing it right.
  We randomly select your mix to play first. We listen to the first song, which 
  happens to be Modest Mouse’s Spitting Venom. We listen in silence. I choose 
  the read the lyrics as the song plays, but you just close your eyes and visualize. 
  Our friend alternates between the two. When the song is over, we press 
  pause. There’s about a minute where we just look at the lyrics and try to sort 
  it all out. Then I suggest that we take the “damned gave us a road-map” 
  line and treat it literally. This becomes the seed of our idea: that one of us is 
  terminally ill (“spitting venom”), and a shady figure who might or might not 
  be the devil appeared, offering us a map to the destination where we would 
  find the cure. Having no better solutions, our characters take the mysterious 
  map and head east with it.
  
  After deciding upon our road trip premise, we each settle upon a vague 
  character idea. At this point, we want to establish very few things about 
  the character - a detail about who they are and how they relate to the 
  other characters on the trip. Once we’ve established those details for each 
  character, we hit play and listen to the second song.
  We establish that the character with the terminal illness is a guy, and I say 
  that I want to play the girlfriend of this dying guy. You think about it, and 
  respond, “I want to be the dying guy himself, if that’s okay.” Our friend asks 
  what he’s dying from, and you respond, “I’d prefer to avoid defining what 
  his illness is, if that’s okay. If it comes up later that’s cool, but for the moment 
  I’d like to maintain an air of mystery to it.” Our friend nods in agreement, 
  and then settles upon playing the guy’s childhood best friend. He gives the 
  character a name: Ricky. That’s all we know about our characters at this 
  point, and it’s all we really have a right to know. We hit play, and listen to 
  the second song in silence.
  It’s the second song that fleshes out our characters, and provides us with 
  those quirky little details that bring them to life. We each need to create a 
  character sheet, on which well record information about our characters. We 
  can use index cards or small pieces of paper for this. Each character has:
  a Name, 3 Traits, and 2 Futures.
  
  Our Futures are important for three big reasons: first of all, they dictate the 
  things our characters care about achieving, which shapes the direction of play; 
  second of all, there’s a rule that states that we aren’t allowed to talk about the 
  future unless it’s directly related to one of our named Futures (this means that 
  if no one takes the Future “I hope we reach Delaware in one piece”, then we 
  aren’t allowed to talk about whether or not we think we’ll reach Delaware - 
  we just have to wait till we get there); finally, the way in which we resolve our 
  futures shapes the game and determines who the protagonist is. At some point 
  in our story, a character will abandon both of their Futures, and doing so will 
  reveal them to be our protagonist. This is explained further in the Resolving 
  Our Futures section.
  At least one of the things we write down on our character sheet - Name, Traits 
  and Futures - needs to be taken directly from the lyrics of that second song. 
  Minor paraphrasing is fine. Taking the line out of context and making it mean 
  something radically different is fine - even encouraged! I tend to base one of 
  my Futures on something in the song, and take 1 or 2 of my Traits directly out 
  of the song lyrics.
  The name we choose is important, because we’re all going to be addressing 
  one another by these names over the course of the game.
  Traits are details about our character that we hope will come to light over 
  the course of the trip, and that might help us overcome obstacles that we 
  encounter. They can be single words (like virtuous or alcoholic), short phrases 
  (like loves classical music or graphic designer), or whole sentences (like I own 
  a house in the Bahamas or I used to be famous). The traits we choose are 
  important because they give us a starting point for playing our characters, 
  and because we rely on them to overcome obstacles that come up over the 
  course of our trip.
  As for the Futures, they’re things that might happen in the character’s 
  future, and likely that the character wants to happen. They are full sentence 
  statements, like “I’m going to find the cure for what ails me” or “We’re going 
  to reach Miami before this car breaks down.” They should be worded as 
  definitive statements, not questions. It’s advised that you make one of your 
  Futures a very long-term thing, and the other more immediate and related to 
  the trip at hand. The second song on the mix is “Step Off The Map & Float” by 
  a band named Library Voices. We listen in silence, and afterwards discuss the 
  lyrics a bit and write our characters.
  
  My character is named Amie.
  Traits: 
  My existence is a pinprick*.
   
   
  A high-paying job.
   
   
  Quick wit.
  Futures:  
  I’m going to be more confident in groups.
   
   
  I’m going to have kids soon.
  Your character is named Anthony.
  Traits:  
  Terminal illness.
   
   
  Stubborn as a mule.
   
   
  Excellent cook.
  Futures:  
  I’m going to cross this paper continent*. 
   
   
  I’ll die of old age.
  Our friend’s character, as previously mentioned, is Carlos.
  Traits: 
  I’ve got places to be but nowhere that I need to go*.
   
   
  Loyal. 
   
   
  Often drunk.
  Futures:  
  I’m going to fall in love.
   
   
  I’m going to go back to grad school.
  You’ll notice that each of those characters in that example has an asterix by 
  one of their Traits or Futures. That’s because those lines were taken directly 
  from the lyrics of the song. In the case of Amie, the line was originally “Your 
  existence is a pinprick,” and I changed it around a bit to make it fit my character. 
  In the case of Carlos, his first Trait is taken word-for-word from the song.
  After we’ve all finished visioning and writing our characters (this could take 
  from 2-5 minutes), we have the option to share them quickly - simply reading 
  their Name, Futures and Traits aloud. Or, we can choose to keep our written 
  information a secret that we reveal through play. I’ve had fun playing in both 
  modes, and it really boils down to what our group preference is.
  Either way, we’re now ready to begin the road trip proper. One of us hits play 
  again, and the third song begins.
  
  Alternate Routes:
  Initial Tracks
  Some people find that always having the first two songs guiding the trip and 
  character creation leads to lopsided mixes. People who’ve played the game 
  before might feel pressured to put specific songs up front, even if those songs 
  would fit better at a later point in the mix. If the technology being used allows 
  for it, here’s an alternate method for determining which songs get used for 
  inspiration in these visioning exercises. Determine which mix will be played 
  first, and put that mix on shuffle. The first song that comes up on shuffle is 
  used to inspire what the road trip is about, and the second song that comes 
  up is used to inspire the individual characters.
  Another option is to allow the mix designer to pick specific tracks to play for 
  the group during the visioning exercises. When it’s time to hit play and start 
  framing scenes, start at the beginning of the mix. This method will ensure that 
  the songs that inspire the starting situation are revisited during play.
  
  Getting on the Road
  The third song has started. We’re actually on the road trip now (though, in 
  reality, we’re likely sitting around in a living room, with comfortable chairs and 
  nice little snacks). The way we begin telling the story and narrating our trip is 
  that one of us frames a scene. Scene framing simply means that you narrate 
  where we are, when it is, and what’s happening. For a quick example, you might 
  say, “Alright, we’re all standing outside the car, and there’s smoke billowing from 
  under the hood. My character screams at you, saying, ‘Carlos, I thought you said 
  this thing was reliable!’” Quick, simple, creating just enough of an image so that 
  we’re on the same creative page, sharing the same imagined space.
  So, what do we base our scene framing upon? A mixture of two things: the 
  song that’s playing, and our own narrative sensibilities. Listen to the song for a 
  moment, and imagine what scenes might open with that song playing. Allow 
  it to inform the opening tone, perhaps even taking a snippet of the lyrics and 
  working that into how you frame the scene. And as for our own narrative 
  sensibilities, what does that mean? Well, if I feel like it’d be great to have one 
  scene be a direct follow-up of a previous scene, then that’s good. Later, if 
  you think that it’d be an interesting juxtaposition to go from a very intense, 
  dramatic in-car scene to a quite-unrelated anecdotal scene that takes place in 
  a diner, then that’s good. We don’t need to hold rigorously to any single pace 
  or tone, and we can let our narrative sensibilities guide our choices.
  When the third song starts playing at the beginning of the game, we are all 
  silent, thinking about how to frame a scene around it, one that will nicely kick 
  start the story of our trip. Whoever speaks first has claimed the first scene 
  frame as their own. After that, we’ll frame scenes in a round robin style, going 
  clockwise around the table.
  Once the scene has been framed, anyone can join into the roleplaying of the 
  scene. If your character was framed into the scene, then you can jump into 
  character and introduce dialogue. Regardless of whether your character is 
  there or not (and whether you’re talking in character or not), you can describe 
  things that are in the scene. If it isn’t mentioned, assume that the scene takes 
  place with everyone present and in the car.
  
  The third song on your mix is Neon Bible, by The Arcade Fire. It’s a song full 
  of foreboding, but it’s quiet and restrained. We’re all silent, thinking about 
  how to frame the first scene. I get a good idea, and say, “Alright, we’re all in 
  the car and have just left town. I’m holding the devil’s map in my left hand 
  and the Rand McNally map in my right, comparing the two. I look up at 
  you, Anthony, with a concerned look on my face. ‘Unless I’m reading this 
  wrong, the place we’re going is located in the middle of a national park.’”
  Since I didn’t say otherwise, it’s assumed that Carlos is also present. I’ve 
  framed the scene in such a way that we know both Anthony and Amie are 
  present. You respond by saying, in Anthony’s voice, “What? That doesn’t make 
  any sense.” My response is that: “I nod, and then shove the maps under your 
  nose, forgetting momentarily that you’re driving.”
  Our friend joins in by saying, “The rain is pouring down on our windshield, 
  and fog is starting to spread. Carlos is asleep on the back seat.”
  Note that in the example, I narrated my character’s actions in the first person, 
  whereas our friend narrated in the third person (“Carlos is asleep on the 
  back seat”). You didn’t narrate your character’s actions at all; you simply spoke 
  in character. All three are appropriate. There’s no need for us to be concerned 
  with these little details of how each of us immerses in the story. We can 
  alternate between speaking in first and third person depending on what feels 
  natural in a given moment.
  Once a scene has been framed, it is carried upon our narration and our 
  actions. That means that we’ll be talking in character, narrating what is going 
  on in the scene around us, and narrating what our characters do. Scenes will 
  have lots of dialogue, as we are traveling together and sharing life experiences 
  and using this road trip to address what’s been on our minds. When it’s 
  appropriate, we should introduce our Futures into the conversation, talking 
  about the prospects of them coming true, or maybe our concerns about 
  them. We all have the option to introduce new elements into the scene. 
  Although the scene framer determines the initial situation, any one of us is 
  free to introduce a twist, like perhaps narrating that we pass a herd of elk, or 
  enter a city, or that darkness falls.
  Aside from our named Futures, we cannot discuss the future. The reason for 
  this rule is that Ribbon Drive is a game about letting go, and experiencing life 
  in the moment. To fixate on the future, in general, is to remove power from 
  the here and now. This is very important because over the course of the 
  game, characters will resolve some of their Futures.
  
  Ultimately, one character will stop caring about both of their Futures (which 
  is the criteria for being named the story’s Protagonist, but more on that 
  later), and in that moment it is essential that they be grounded entirely in 
  the past and present.
  Scenes should go on until they hit a natural point of resolution. This could be 
  when the conversations that the characters are holding all come to a halt, or 
  when one of us says something that seems an excellent point to cut away 
  on, or when we all feel like it’s appropriate. At that perfect moment, anyone 
  can just say “cut.” If someone really wants to keep the scene rolling for a little 
  longer, possibly because they had something they wanted to add, that’s fine. 
  Otherwise, move on to framing the next scene.
  If the song changes mid-scene, it’s important to allow the new song’s tone 
  to leak into our narration and guide the direction we take the scene. We 
  shouldn’t slavishly hold to this rule, but take it as a guide.
  A scene might last from 3 to 20 minutes. Whatever we feel is appropriate and 
  fun is correct.
  We’re listening to that Arcade Fire song, playing out a solid first scene. The 
  song ends, and a new one begins - one that’s lighter, but also wistful and 
  nostalgic. I take this as a good opportunity to change the direction that 
  we were headed with the scene, and say, “At this point, we drive past a 
  playground, and it’s about noon right now. ‘Look at those adorable children,’ 
  I remark, pointing out the window at a group of girls on the swings. We keep 
  driving, and suddenly I’m filled with a pang of longing. I can’t wait until I 
  have kids of my own.”
  As a player, I want my character to say something along the lines of, “I really 
  hope that Anthony finds his antidote, so that he can be there alongside me”. 
  But, the prospect of Anthony finding an antidote isn’t one of my two Futures, 
  so that isn’t something I can narrate. Instead, I say to the group, “I really hope 
  that my children get the chance to know Anthony.”
  
  Activating Traits
  During each scene, we can each activate one of our Traits. To activate a 
  Trait, narrate something (maybe an action, visual detail, or line of dialogue) 
  that highlights one of your Traits. Say the name of your Trait aloud and put 
  a check mark next to it. Once a Trait has been highlighted, it can be used to 
  help overcome obstacles in future situations.
  Midway through our third scene (we’re now in a grocery store), I realize 
  that I have a perfect opportunity to activate Amie’s “My existence is a 
  pinprick” Trait. “Amie glances at the other people in the line,” I begin. “We 
  pull back a little bit, and see like twelve long line ups. Zoom in on Amie 
  again, and we see that she’s got a look of quiet desperation upon her face. I’m 
  activating ‘My existence is a pinprick’.” And then I put a tiny little check-
  mark next to that Trait.
  Notice how I describe zooming in on Amie, like we’re watching a movie? 
  It’s fine to do that. If you want to use language borrowed from theatre 
  (“Anthony exits stage right”), and I want to describe things as if seen through 
  a camera (“we cut to a close-up of Amie’s face, and see…”), that’s great. We 
  can describe the fiction in terms we feel comfortable using, with whatever 
  language comes naturally to us.
  
  Encountering Obstacles
  Sometimes, things get in the way of a perfectly good plan. Maybe we’re 
  going down the road, and find out that the bridge is closed for construction. 
  Maybe we run out of gas. Maybe the hitchhiker we picked up is having a huge 
  emotional breakdown and threatening suicide. Maybe someone steals our car.
  In Ribbon Drive there are specific rules for these situations, called Obstacles.
  If everyone else speaks before you do in a scene (whether narrating something 
  in the scene or speaking as their character), then you have the right to 
  introduce an Obstacle into the scene. You don’t have to introduce the Obstacle 
  immediately. You can join in, describing and narrating, and then at some later 
  point in the scene introduce your Obstacle. Finally, you aren’t by any means 
  required to introduce an Obstacle - this is an option, not a responsibility.
  Sometimes, several people will be silent through the start of a scene, perhaps 
  because they all want the right to introduce an Obstacle. I’ve developed a 
  way to silently ask “are you being silent because you want to introduce an 
  obstacle?” I hold my hand up in the shape of an O, and raise an eyebrow 
  quizzically. And then if they indeed have an idea for an obstacle, just like I do, 
  they might reply with their own hand in the shape of an O. Or, if they just 
  hadn’t thought to speak yet, they might jump in and narrate some stuff into 
  the scene, neatly giving me the Obstacle rights for the scene.
  An Obstacle is something that gets in the way of the trip, something external 
  to the characters. It needs to be something that we can’t ignore, something that 
  we need to either deal with or go well out of our way to avoid dealing with. 
  Example Obstacles include: being pursued by cops, hitting a deer, being 
  cornered by a couple bikers intent on mugging you, or finding out that the 
  bridge has collapsed during a recent storm.
  While obstacles should generally be external to the characters, there is some 
  flexibility in that rule. Once, I played a game where one of the players was 
  a veteran from the Vietnam war. He had a bad cough, and spent most of his 
  time drinking and smoking. My friend Gilbert was playing this character, and 
  he narrated that his character started coughing up blood, and that it got 
  really bad, and that all of a sudden he broke into seizure. Gilbert paused for 
  a moment, and said, “Alright. That’s the obstacle in this scene. I’m coughing 
  up blood and starting to seizure.” Although it wasn’t exactly external to the 
  characters, it was something outside of their control that they were being 
  forced to respond to. In that way, it was a suitable Obstacle.
  
  When an Obstacle is introduced, there are two options:
   resolve it, or take a Detour.
  Resolving Obstacles
  To resolve an Obstacle, one of us must have a Trait already activated which 
  would help overcome the obstacle. It might be a Trait which is directly helpful. 
  Alternately, it can be a Trait that, if revoked or flipped on its head in a moment 
  of character growth and transition, would become helpful. Whoever has such 
  a Trait activated can decide to cross it off their character sheet and narrate 
  how the Obstacle is overcome with the help of the Trait. Now, the Obstacle 
  has been overcome and we can continue to play as normal (now might 
  be a good time to end the scene, if it fits our narrative sensibilities). If you 
  introduce an Obstacle, you can’t also be the one to resolve it.
  When you cross off a Trait, it might mean that you’ve overcome or outgrown 
  it. Alternately, that Trait might still be integral to who you are, but it won’t be 
  the pivotal thing which helps resolve any further Obstacles on this trip.
  Taking a Detour
  To take a Detour (which we are forced to do if there are no relevant, activated 
  Traits, or if no one wants to cross such a Trait off permanently), we must 
  narrate how the obstacle creates an impasse and how we backtrack or detour 
  to get around it. We must at this point switch the mix. This immediately ends 
  the scene, starts a new mix, and changes the tone of the game.
  When an Obstacle is introduced, we need to play by these rules. If we 
  want to continue forward on our journey, one of us needs to resolve the 
  Obstacle by crossing off an already-activated Trait. If we don’t do that, we 
  need to take a Detour.
  There shouldn’t be an Obstacle in every scene! Most games have between 
  one and six Obstacles.
  If no one can remember who the last person to join the scene was, then we 
  can either let anyone introduce an Obstacle, or just decide that no one is 
  allowed since no one remembers earning that right. If someone has a really 
  good idea for an Obstacle and none of us remember who’s got the Obstacle 
  rights, I don’t see any harm in letting that person fire away.
  
  We’ve left the grocery store, and are now traveling along a winding country 
  road. Our friend framed the scene, and I was the first person to join in and 
  narrate anything after that. Since you were the last person to join the scene, 
  you’ve got the option to introduce an Obstacle at any point in the scene. You 
  hold off for the moment, describing the countryside, all of its gold and brown 
  and crimson hues. You continue, “Anthony takes out a pack of cigarettes, 
  pulling at the plastic. This is going to be his first smoke in months.”
  Amie and Anthony begin fighting about the cigarette. Our friend describes 
  how Carlos starts fidgeting with his phone, anxious to pretend that he can’t 
  hear any of this. We play out the argument for a moment, and then you get 
  an idea. You say, “While they’re fighting, they drive right past the last gas 
  station for a hundred miles. And twenty minutes later, the car sputters to a 
  stop. We’re in the middle of nowhere, with no cell phone signal, and we’re out 
  of gas. This is our Obstacle.”
  In order to resolve the situation, one of us would need to use (and cross out) an 
  already-activated Trait. I’ve only got “My existence is a pinprick” activated, 
  and our friend only has “Loyal.” I suppose our friend could use Loyal to resolve 
  the Obstacle, narrating how Carlos walks for a couple hours to get help. But no 
  one suggests that, and neither of us cross of our activated Traits. 
  Since we didn’t resolve the Obstacle, we need to take a Detour. We switch 
  mixes, and our trip changes tone. The next mix ends up being Die Happy. 
  We put it in and press play. Angry break-up music right after a big fight? 
  This could get messy.
  
  Switching Mixes
  There are two ways that a mix might end: it might naturally reach its 
  conclusion, or we might Detour in the face of an Obstacle. If a mix naturally 
  ends, we bring the current scene to a good ending point (wrapping it up 
  within two minutes, at absolute most). If a mix gets cut short by a Detour, that 
  scene ends immediately.
  We then randomly select the next mix, read the title, and put it in. We listen 
  to that first song in silence, or at least most of the first song. If it’s your turn to 
  frame the scene, and you want to start framing two and a half minutes into the 
  first song or something like that, you’re welcome to. You may choose to wait 
  until the start of the second song, or begin most of the way through the first.
  The point of this silence at the start of a new mix is to refocus our energy, 
  and to welcome in a change of tone. We should welcome the change, and 
  allow ourselves to be surprised by what comes next.
  
  Handling Conflicts
  Road trips don’t always go according to plan. Sometimes, they get messy and 
  awful. What do you do when two characters get locked into a conflict? How 
  does Ribbon Drive support the players in figuring out where the conflict leads?
  Conflict among the main characters doesn’t count as an Obstacle. Obstacles 
  are external problems. There aren’t any rules for deciding who wins a conflict 
  and gets their way, like there are in many other games. Because that’s not 
  what Ribbon Drive is about, right?
  Ribbon Drive is about letting the music guide us, letting the characters show 
  us who they are, and about figuring out the future. And we can turn to those 
  three things for guidance on how to resolve inter-character conflict when it 
  arises.  Let’s set up an example, and explore some techniques through it.
  Things haven’t been going well between Amie and Anthony on this trip. 
  Carlos has tried to smooth things over, but it’s only escalated the problem. 
  Anthony has lost hope in their trip, and in the miracle cure that they’re 
  chasing after. He feels like his death is imminent and inevitable.
  In the middle of an argument, Anthony goes silent. He just stares ahead 
  vacantly, grips the wheel, and presses his foot down on the accelerator. They’re 
  on a windy mountain road. Anthony is careening around blind corners 
  at alarming speeds and drifting between lanes. Amie and Carlos are both 
  yelling for Anthony to slow down and snap out of it, but he’s ignoring them. 
  He’s feeling helpless and this is his meltdown moment.
  In an act of desperation, Amie reaches over and grabs the wheel. The 
  characters are locked in conflict and there’s a lot at stake.
  So, what happens next? As players, how do we decide how this conflict ends?  
  To answer these questions, we’re going to return to what the game is about: 
  letting the music guide us, letting the characters show us who they are, and 
  figuring out the future.
  
  In moments like these, remember to pay attention to the music playing. If 
  Ladytron’s Destroy Everything You Touch is soundtracking this scene, that gives 
  us a strong vision of how this conflict might resolve - with Anthony totaling 
  the car, damaging Amie’s faith in him, and bringing the trip to a screeching halt. 
  If MGMT’s Kids is playing in the background, that gives us a different vision of 
  the conflict - instead of being about Anthony’s destruction, the scene might 
  be about Amie’s vulnerability and unwillingness to turn people away, even 
  when they do terrible things to her (“control yourself / take only what you 
  need from me / A family of trees, wantin’ / to be haunted”). If the song is 
  trying to give you the answer, take it.
  Look at the Traits on the character sheets. If someone has a Trait waiting to 
  be activated, and this situation is the perfect context in which to showcase it, 
  then bring it in and let it shape the events to follow. Is this the moment where 
  Anthony’s “Stubborn as a Mule” Trait gets activated, as he refuses to put a halt 
  to his dangerous behavior until his temper has resided? If so, you can add that 
  check mark to your character sheet, and narrate how these antics continue 
  until the car falls into white-knuckled silence. If the Traits are giving you the 
  perfect chance to showcase your character, take it.
  And finally, look at the Futures. Amie has “I’m going to be more confident 
  in groups.” This is a perfect moment to explore that Future. Does she take 
  decisive action, thus confirming that Future? Or does she instead fall into 
  stunned silence, letting go of that tentative conviction she had about who 
  she was becoming? Anthony has the Future “I’ll die of old age.” This situation 
  is almost too perfect a venue for exploring it. This is it: the moment where 
  Anthony’s hope and doubt are playing tug-of-war with both his mind and 
  the physical safety of the entire car. Does he get a grip on his emotions, and 
  remember that faith is a powerful and important thing in its own right? Or 
  does he give up on his belief that he’ll outlive the month, and descend further 
  into his fatalistic cynicism?
  The resolution of the situation isn’t the most important thing. The most 
  important thing is how these characters, and the context of the trip, is 
  reflected in the situation. “Does Anthony cause a crash?” is less important 
  than “Does Anthony want to crash?” and less important than “Is Amie in 
  control of her own life” and less important than the Joy Division song playing 
  in the background. Use the situation as a launching point for exploring what 
  the characters want, how they view the world and who they think they are. 
  Allow the resolution of the situation to spill, secondarily, from that.
  Those are the tools. Use them in conjunction with your own narrative sensibilities.
  
  Resolving our Futures
  During play, it is everyone’s job to bring their Futures into conversations. This 
  will allow us to steer the hopes and the expectations of the road trippers, as 
  well as add meaning to the eventual resolution of these Futures.
  Resolving Futures is one of the most important parts of play. Not all of the 
  Futures will be resolved, but the ones that do will be significant. There are two 
  ways that a Future can be resolved: it can come true, or it can be crossed out.
   
  A Future can come true over the course of play! If a Future comes true, circle it 
  on the character sheet. We should allow a scene in which a Future comes true 
  to focus on that as a pivotal event. If one of us has a Future (or both) come 
  true, that’s really exciting, but it also means that character isn’t the Protagonist.
  One of Carlos’ two Futures is “I’m going to fall in love.”  Our friend has 
  brought that Future into several scenes so far, having Carlos talk often about 
  his romantic frustrations. We’re just over two hours into the game, and the 
  current scene features a minor character: a young mechanic with curly black 
  hair. Since Anthony isn’t in this scene, you’re playing the young mechanic. He’s 
  talking with Carlos, and the two develop a connection. Carlos says, bashfully, 
  “Since we’re waiting on some parts arriving, maybe the two of us could go get 
  some coffee?” The mechanic smiles, revealing dimples, and says, “Sure, I’d love 
  that. There’s a cafe around the corner.”
  Our friend smiles, triumphantly, and circles “I’m going to fall in love.” It’s a 
  signal to the group that Carlos has fallen instantly for this guy, and that it’s 
  going somewhere. His Future has come true (which, incidentally, means that 
  he will not be the Protagonist of this story).
  A Future can be crossed off. This happens when you feel that your character 
  has undergone a transformation, and no longer care about the outcome of 
  this particular Future. This is not a transformation that occurs out of the blue; 
  instead, you will have introduced and explored your Future in several scenes, 
  and crossing it off will feel like an arrival of sorts. When this change occurs, 
  relish the moment. If things are going correctly, you’ll have our rapt attention 
  and this will be a big turning point in the story.
  
  To make the crossing out of a Future feel believable and significant, make 
  sure to demonstrate the change rather than just declaring it. Introduce the 
  Future into a variety of scenes to establish context. Demonstrate how this 
  belief or hope guides the character’s actions in little ways. And then, when 
  the transformation occurs, demonstrate how their actions and mannerisms 
  change to reflect. If any of us don’t understand or get the transformation, we 
  may call it into question. If this happens, it’s your job to help us bridge that gap 
  with further explanation and demonstration.
   It’s nearing the end of the game. Carlos has succeeded at “I’m going to fall in 
  love” (thus circling it), and stopped caring about “I’m going to go back to grad 
  school”. I’ve crossed out “I’m going to be more confident in groups”. You’ve 
  been bringing up Anthony’s “I’m going to die of old age” Future frequently.
   
  Our characters are in the car, and you narrate that, “Anthony sees a cemetery 
  to his right, and instinctively slows down and cranes his neck to see it better. 
  There’s a tinge of sadness in his gaze, and he zones out of the conversation at 
  hand.” It’s obvious to everyone playing that Anthony is contemplating his own 
  mortality, and that you’re reference his death-related Future. I’m trying to 
  figure out how Amie could extend more support to Anthony in this moment, 
  but don’t come up with anything. This is a sad moment in a sad scene.
  “It’s... you know guys, I don’t really care if this is a wild-goose chase at this 
  point. Who cares about the antidote? If this is all I’ve got left, this trip... well, 
  that’s enough.” I’m moved by your narration, and the sincerity you lend to 
  Anthony’s voice. The rest of the group is silent as we wait to see where you 
  take this scene. “As the graveyard recedes into the rear-view mirror, Anthony 
  returns to his original speed. There’s a different look on his face now. It’s 
  stronger and calmer than before.” You cross off Anthony’s “I’m going to die of 
  old age” Future. We decide that’s a good place to cut the scene.
   
  There’s a moment in play that the entire game is building toward. It’s the 
  moment when one of us crosses off their second Future. It’s the moment 
  when we suddenly have a character who is freed of all of their concerns 
  about the days to come, and is entirely grounded in the here and now. 
  They’ve let go on the open road. When a character crosses off both of their 
  Futures, they are declared the Protagonist.
  When a character is declared the Protagonist, we are given a new, retroactive 
  interpretation of what this trip has been about. In almost every game I’ve 
  played, when someone becomes the Protagonist, it becomes crystal clear 
  that they were the protagonist all along. Looking back, the hints and signs 
  underscored every scene. And if that doesn’t happen, if it comes as a quirky 
  surprise, that’s cool too. In Everything Is Illuminated, I was really surprised by 
  the fact that Alex emerged as the clear protagonist at the end of the story, 
  but he absolutely did and it was awesome.
  
  Arriving
   
  When one of our character’s becomes the Protagonist, that’s it. We’ve hit the 
  climax of our game, and it’s our job to bring it to a quick but meaningful close. 
  The scene in which a Protagonist emerges might be our final scene. Alternately, 
  we might have one or two brief follow-up scenes to tie up loose ends. Either 
  way, play comes to a close in a way that feels natural but doesn’t linger.
   
  We don’t need to reach our destination. We may. We might see the Welcome 
  To Aberdeen sign, proudly inviting us to “Come As You Are,” and leave that as 
  our final moment. We might have arrived at our destination halfway through 
  the game. These are all valid.
  Once the game has finished, take a few minutes and just sit there, as a group. 
  Discuss the best moments, praise work well done, or just let it all sink in. 
  Hopefully it’s felt like a meaningful experience.
  If you’ve got your mixes on CD or cassette, consider swapping mixes with 
  another player before heading home.
  The car has broken down again. Our characters are all standing around 
  on the side of the road, frustrated. Carlos and Amie are yelling at one 
  another about who’s fault it is. You interrupt with, “You both realize that 
  Anthony isn’t there anymore.” You’ve snagged our attention and curiosity, 
  and continue, “He’s wandered down the hill, to a patch of grass underneath 
  a weeping willow tree. He’s bunching his coat up like a pillow, and laying 
  down in the shade.” I get the distinct impression that this is building toward 
  an important moment, possibly even our climactic moment.
  Anthony calls out, “You guys, it doesn’t matter. Just… take a break. Let it 
  sit. We’ll get to where we’re going, or we won’t. It doesn’t matter.” You savor 
  the moment, and slowly cross off that second Future (“I’m going to cross this 
  paper continent”). I narrate that Amie pauses with a quizzical expression 
  on her face, before walking down the little hill and laying down on the grass 
  next to Anthony. Our friend narrates Carlos pulling out his phone, ringing 
  up the young mechanic he’s fallen in love with.
  You continue, “Anthony tilts his head up, watching the willow branches 
  swaying in the breeze. He doesn’t feel any anxiousness about getting back 
  on the road. His destination is out of mind entirely. Whether we make it to 
  the destination, whether there ever was a cure, whether the map was really 
  leading us somewhere… none of that matters anymore. It’s a sunny day. 
  There’s not a cloud in the sky.” And that’s where our story ends.
  
  Inspirations
  The movie which first inspired me to write this game was Wristcutters: A Love 
  Story (2006). Wristcutters is a story about three travelers in a special afterlife 
  reserved for successful suicides, coming together to help one of their number 
  find his ex-girlfriend. Offbeat, fluctuating between hilarious and somber, 
  possessed of an ambling indie darling charm.
  The movie which grabbed my heart and became my driving inspiration while 
  working on the project was Everything Is Illuminated (2005), a heart-felt and 
  moving story about what happens when you catch up to the past. The shifts 
  in tone are brilliant.
  Other movies that had a significant impact on Ribbon Drive, listed by 
  importance: y tu Mama Tambien (2001), in which two coming-of-age Brazilian 
  boys join a seductive older woman on a trip that reshapes their understanding 
  of sexuality and passion; Little Miss Sunshine (2006), a comedy in which an 
  estranged, odd-bunch family piles into a VW van to get their youngest to a 
  beauty pageant; The Heart Is Deceitful Above All Things (2004), a haunting 
  drama in which a drug-abusing mother takes to the road with her seven year-
  old son; Thelma & Louise (1991), in which two best friends find themselves on 
  the run after killing a man; High Fidelity (2000), in which John Cusak gets very 
  particular about the construction of mix tapes; Two-Lane Blacktop (1971), 
  an existential classic in which two men set to drag racing across America, and 
  probably never finish; The Doom Generation (1995), in which two messed-up 
  teens pick up a hitchhiker and try to drive through the surreal vomit that is 
  the American wasteland; Wild At Heart (1990), in which Lula and Sailor, two 
  young lovers, attempt to outrun the hit-men sent after Sailor; and, Go (1999), 
  in which a messy drug deal disrupts several lives and a road trip.
  Since completing the game, I’ve also noticed the affinity that Ribbon Drive has 
  to a few other road trip movies: Broken Flowers (2005), in which a man goes 
  off in search of the son he might or might not have; Transamerica (2005), in 
  which a transsexual woman juggles her desire to meet her son with fear of 
  rejection; Mouth to Mouth (2005), in which a disenfranchised teen girl gets 
  swept up with a volatile revolutionary movement; and, The Go-Getter (2007), 
  in which a teenage boy goes off in search of his long-lost brother.
  Sharing Our Mixes
  Want to share your Ribbon Drive mixes and listen to some that others have 
  created? Create an account at 8tracks, and search for the ribbon drive tag 
  (8tracks.com/explore/ribbon_drive).
  
  I’m going somewhere, and I want you to join me. It’s a 
  place that always seems just past our reach. A mixture 
  of myth and reality. This place, it smells familiar, and 
  yet it beats the heart like first times do. It’s wedged 
  between a mix tape, a throw-away comment and  a 
  shifter. It’s going to take a lot  of open road to get to.
  But open road’s all we’ve ever really got, anyway.
  Ribbon Drive is a story game about road trips, mix 
  tapes, and self-discovery. It draws inspiration from 
  movies like Wristcutters, Little Miss Sunshine, and 
  Everything is Illuminated. Our goal is to create a 
  meaningful experience. We let the music guide us. 
  We let the road throw us curves. We rethink our 
  attachment to the future.
  Created by Joe Mcdaldno
  For 3-5 players, 2-4 hours
  Buried Without Ceremony
  
SOURCE: textdata/thevault/Ribbon Drive.pdf