Happy holidays, whichever they are that most appeal to you and yours!

We here at TinkerHouse come into the home stretch of the holiday season with a feeling of immense gratitude and appreciation for everyone who’ve supported our creative endeavors over the years. It’s a real honor to be able to make something you think people will enjoy, and have the people you make it for gather together to support and enable the making. Thank you, from the bottom of our hearts.

Though the House of Tinker is winding down for a holiday break with our families we do have some notable updates, in the form of a report on our presence at PAX Unplugged, a production update, some new Marshall art, and the conclusion of our iconic adventurers' journey to the Abattoir of Avarice. This update requires no action on your part.

First: PAX Unplugged.

We brought to the show our largest booth ever, measuring twenty feet by twenty feet. We set up a dining-room-table-size battlefield of our TinkerTurf sci-fi wargaming terrain, a fully-functional retail shop, and a dedicated build area where attendees could get their hands on assembling TinkerTurf for donation to the PAX communal terrain library. But the highlight, for those who Vault, was the front-and-center display of early-prototype pieces from the Vault of Mini Things. We figured PAX Unplugged attendees would be the most receptive audience for what we’re offering in the Vault and that turned out to be true.

I tried jotting down the superlatives but it got to be too many. Here’s a sampling:

“Wow! This is the exact thing I’ve been looking for. I’m a DM and I came here looking for an all-in-one platform. I’d left the show and was in my car and ready to go, and then thought I’d go back for one more lap. I’m so glad I found you!”

This was a real comment!

“Really love the way the colors pop!”

“This is so smart. This solves my storage problem.”

“I wish I’d found this two years ago, before I accumulated my Unpainted Minis Box of Shame.”

 

We had to caution folks that what they saw on the table were visual prototypes intended to give a sense of art style and scale, rather than production prototypes of retail-quality materials. But even when picking up the minis and mockups that we’d printed at home, on consumer-grade printers, folks were blown away. It was especially encouraging to see so many women turning their heads and making a point to tell us that they enjoyed the vivid art style and female representation among the minis. 

There was a sizable sales bump for the Vault post-show, a wave we’re still riding. Which is wonderful, and welcome. But in addition to those late pledges it was wonderful just to hear directly from the intended audience that they were looking forward to what we’re building. Those well-wishes will send us into 2024 with a burst of momentum.

Second: a Production update. Chris wrote a thorough production update as a response to a community comment, and I’ve included it below this paragraph. I just wanted to add that engineering work–though intense and interesting–is not something that’s suitable for sharing until it’s finalized for production. The reason is that unlike in-progress art, some engineering paths will result in nonviable dead-ends. And we’d be doing a disservice to the community if we got folks excited for a particular engineering solution that might not actually make it into the box. It’s better for all if you know that when we show you something, that’s what you’ll see when you open the box.

Here’s that production update In Chris’s own words:
As far as production goes here is where we are. While the majority of the artwork is completed, there are still around 50 of the standees that need artwork. As the art progresses we’ve been busy developing our own tools to handle the processing of the artwork into their final layouts for manufacturing. Handling all of the layout production by hand of over 1000 standees and then again segmented into multiple products can be a logistical pain. We have some standees that we issue multiple colors or art styles of that use the same cut tooling. By building these tools to automate the layout process we can eliminate the need for multiple tools and streamline our production process by simply changing out printed sheets. There is quite a bit of complication to this that can be minimized by an automated process.

Two wild updates from Marshall for your viewing pleasure:

 

This section is a narrative of the community-chosen adventuring band, as detailed in Update 18. Its purpose is to show the Vault used for actual play, and entertain backers over the course of product development and production. 

When last we saw our heroes, they’d managed to survive an onslaught of undead by accidentally summoning a terrible spirit: the mighty Krampus. Krampus dispersed the undead horde and, after a titanic struggle, destroyed the personification of the Abattoir of Avarice: a towering grave golem. When the dust settled Krampus regarded our heroes with unknown intention. Given the choice of Attempt to Exert Control, Parly, or Fight, the community chose Parley. Let’s see how that works out for them!

Amidst the shattered remains of the once-menacing cemetery, the party faced the looming form of the mighty Krampus. The full moon cast his shadow toward them, and Elora could swear it capered and taunted even as the actual form of the malevolent spirit stood dead still except for its labored breathing. The ragged breath was the only sound amidst the ruins of the cemetery, and after the crash and tumult of the fight with the grave golem the still silence made the adventurers feel exposed and oppressed. 

Krampus shifted his weight, the cloven hooves sending a cascade of broken masonry tumbling down the pile he stood upon. At the sudden sound and motion Votun strode two paces forward, shield set, sword held high and ready. “Stay behind me. Your spells are spent. You should flee. I can impede his pursuit long enough for you to get away.”

Elora gasped and shook her head no, but Grecken was already halfway toward the exit. Remme closed his weary eyes for a moment, then placed his hand on the Warforged’s steel shoulder. “Hold, my friend. It might not come to blows.” The old druid raised his voice, and called out “Parley, Krampus! Parley! What is your purpose here, and can we find common ground that would prevent violence between us?”   

Krampus smiled, revealing far too many teeth. “You know my purpose, Remme.” Elora heard the druid flinch to hear the devil speak his name. “You dictated the dusty rites that drive my dark deeds. You spoke them yourself. You called; and I came.” The being’s voice was deeper than a human’s natural range, guttural yet somehow seductive.

Remme shook his head. “Nay, fiend! I called for nature’s salvation for the poor souls interred herein! Rest, for restless spirits too long upon this land!”

Krampus threw back his head and laughed. If it was meant to scare them, it worked, but his harsh guffaws also contained genuine amusement. “Poor souls? The beings buried beneath us had many qualities, but “poor” was certainly not one of them! This is the Abattoir of Avarice, after all! Their craven covetousness conspired to curtail them in the ground here, though the ground groaned and disgorged them!” The beast laughed again, horns sawing through the air as he cavorted in glee. “They languished and lingered here long, harrowed and hungry, and you should remember that for the wicked there is no rest.” At this he shook a large wicker basket tied at his waist, and the group could see glimmering, sickly green light flashing from within. 

“Souls…” Elora whispered, unconsciously reaching a hand toward them. Remme shot her a look in alarm, and she snatched her hand back. Krampus jangled the basket in her direction and laughed again.

“Yes, I heard your hearkening and hither I came. I’ll whisk these wicked wisps away to where they’re welcome.” Krampus chuckled, hefting the basket in his gnarled fist. But he didn’t make a move to depart. Instead he let his chuckle die out. Then he said, “Oh yes, I’ll whisk away… but not just yet. For my work is not finished.”

He took a step toward the group. Votun did not move an inch, being already in a perfect defensive posture. But Remme and Elora took an involuntary step back. Krampus paused, considering the armored form before him. He seemed to then notice the absence of Grecken, and shifted his gaze back and forth, searching the toppled tombstones and rubble for the little rogue. “You see…” he mused, seeming to be buying time for himself to spot her. “My pure purpose is punishment. I deliver damnation to darkness. And I spy…” Krampus’s gaze settled on a shadowed form, just barely leaning out from behind a tree stump, bow trained at his heart. He grinned, and prepared to leap. “...a spoiled spot of soot within each of you!”

Just then the air shimmered with magic, and with a burst of festive bells, Santa Claus himself appeared, crashing between Krampus and the party on a sleigh drawn by enchanted reindeer. Dressed in his iconic red suit, Santa surveyed the scene, his eyes twinkling with both mirth and concern.

"Now, now, Krampus," Santa chided, "only I know who's on the naughty list."

Jingle Bells

The flabbergasted party could hardly believe their eyes. Grecken, hidden behind the stump, was so shocked that her numb fingers released her arrow. It flew straight toward the back of Santa’s head. Before Elora’s scream of warning could escape her throat Santa whipped his hand around his head, snatching the missile out of the air. With a flourish the arrow became a long ribbon of striped red and green, and he busily used it to tie a bow around a huge present he pulled from his sack. As he worked he glanced up at Grecken, who stumbled forward, dumbfounded, to stand with her party. 

“Careful, Grecken.” Santa said, with a twinkle in his eye. “You’ll shoot someone’s eye out!”

Krampus stalked back and forth, clearly unsure how to respond to this interruption. Santa, for his part, ignored Krampus as he nimbly leapt from his sleigh and carried past Krampus the large, brightly-wrapped present to a spot in the heart of the cemetery. He placed it upon a plinth there, then stepped back, dusting off his hands with a self-satisfied grunt. 

Krampus, who had kept careful watch on Santa’s sojourn, tore his eyes away from the seemingly-concluded spectacle and returned his attention to the party. “Where were we, my weary wanderers? Ah yes…” his bony hands wrung his staff in a tight grip, sending splinters to the ground. His eyes narrowed as he began to say, “My ghastly gaze glimpses a growing gloom–”

“Good evening!” Santa merrily shouted out, politely tipping his hat as he brushed past Krampus on his way back to his sleigh. The reindeer snorted. 

Krampus stomped his cloven feet in frustration. “Would you kindly stop perforating my performance?!” he snarled. 

Santa clamored atop his sleigh and settled in. He crossed his arms and regarded Krampus, eyebrows raised in a patient and innocent expression. When nothing happened, he gestured with his gloved hand for Krampus to continue.

Krampus warily eyed Santa, then shook his head and regarded the party again. “And this growing gloom that glowers in your heart-”

“Please, continue.” Santa called out, politely.

Krampus rounded on Santa and shouted “Isn’t there someplace you need to be?”

Santa pursed his lips in thought, then spread his hands in a shrug. He then pulled out a watch on a golden chain, looked at it, then replaced it in a pocket of his red suit.

“Waiting for something?” Krampus asked dryly.

“For someone!” Santa replied, helpfully.

Krampus rolled his lantern-yellow eyes and turned away in exasperation. His eyes settled on the gigantic present, sitting alone on the plinth. “And what of this gift? Who did you prepare this perfect present for?” he asked aloud, in annoyance.

Santa leaned forward. "Only he who is worthy of such an enormous surprise," Santa declared cryptically.

Krampus turned his back on the present in disgust. He focused his attention on the party, who by now had all, except for Votun, settled into a relaxed posture. Krampus clenched his eyes tight. Then, unable to further resist, he leaped backward, landing directly behind the present. He licked his lips with a several-foot long tongue and rubbed his hands together in obvious anticipation. Then he eagerly reached forward with clawed hands to tear apart the wrapping.

To his dismay, the present's top opened up to reveal monstrous teeth which clamped down fast onto Krampus's wrists. He yelped in shock and surprise, then the Mimic lurched backward, tossing Krampus into the air. With a shriek, Krampus cartwheeled into the Mimic's mouth and just like that, he was swallowed in one gulp. Santa clapped his hands and openly guffawed, calling out “Oh, you should have known better, old boy! No rest for the wicked, yes, but also no gifts for the greedy, Krampus! Ho! Ho! Ho!” The Mimic/present shook back and forth in response. Then it emitted a large belch, and was still. 

After the chaotic spectacle, Elora, couldn't help but ask Santa if what Krampus said was true about the darkness in their hearts. Santa's smile faded slightly as he admitted, "Yes, my dear Elora, there is darkness in each of you. But it's the denial of that darkness, and the goodness you strive for in helping strangers and watching out for each other, that earns you a place on the nice list!"

With a wave of Santa’s hand, a wrapped present appeared at the feet of each adventurer. Grecken eyed hers with open suspicion but Elora picked up her present with a squeal of delight. Her black-taloned fingers shred the wrapping to reveal a small box. She looked at Santa, who gave a nod of permission, murmuring softly, “good things come…” Inside was an amulet of golden links, with a dark shard mounted in the middle of the chain. As she touched it, a glow formed deep within the crystal. 

The other party members unwrapped their own presents, and as they did so a light snow began to fall and obscure the horror and ruin around them. Weary faces became cheery smiles as the party rejoiced in their gifts. For Remme, a willow branch adorned with silver bells. For Votun, a high-collared wool mantle adorned with sigils of warding. For Grecken…

“Really?” the gnome called out, glaring at Santa, as she held up a pair of fur-cuffed red boots with up-curled toes. Despite her words, her lips couldn’t repress a grin forming on her face as she felt the boots visibly vibrate with energy.

“Ho! Ho! Ho!” Santa called from atop his sleigh, and gathered the reins for departure. The party paused the admiration of their treasures to bid him farewell.

"Remember," Santa called out as his sleigh lifted into the night sky, "it's the kindness and goodwill you share that truly make the season bright. Happy holidays, my friends! And Merry Christmas!"

And so, our iconic adventurers, having faced the Abattoir of Avarice and learned valuable lessons along the way, made their way from the dis-enchanted cemetery. Their hearts filled with newfound camaraderie, the joy of the holiday season, and the warmth of magical gifts that would doubtless serve them well in future adventures.

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Thank you, dear backers, for joining this journey with The Vault of Mini Things. May your holidays be filled with laughter, love–and the magic of adventure!

Sincerely, 

Mike, Lane, Chris, and Marshall