THE SCA ARCHIVE
The official archive of the Society of Creative Adventurers. Sorted, restored, and slowly coming back online.
I didn’t start the Society. I just found what was left of them.
The flyer said: “Build the Orb and the Society will find you.”
So I did.
When the Orb turned on, it started humming. Then printing things. Then assigning me dares.
And then one night, it gave me a title: Interim President-for-Life of the SCA.
I still don’t know what that means.
The next day, forty-seven shipping containers showed up outside my door.
They were labeled things like:
“Nautical Territories: Guides, Memorandums, Lawsuits, and Semi-Trusted Maps.”
Inside: scrolls, VHS tapes, apology notes, tax ledgers carved into stone. Ritual kits. Lost diagrams.Some were pristine. Others were packed during what looked like a panic.
I’ve been digging through them ever since.
That was the day the job began: sorting, cataloging, repairing, decoding, digitizing—and trying to make sense of what this was.
What it meant. Whether it was a prank, a test, or something sacred.
I’m acting as their last archivist now. Their reluctant historian. Maybe their editor.
And if I’m honest—I think I believe in it.
SCA FAQ’s
-
The Society of Creative Adventurers was a secretive fellowship of makers, thinkers, wanderers, and wild-eyed inventors.
They treated the creative process like a dangerous expedition—and built an entire system to track its terrain. -
That the creative process is wild, perilous, and sacred.
That no one survives it alone.
That we’re not here to teach you how to make something—we’re here to remind you why you said yes in the first place. -
They were trying to map the creative process—not the tidy version you read about, but the real terrain: disorientation, glimpses, collapse, collaboration, momentum, sabotage, recovery, doubt, and success (whatever that means).
The Field Guide was their way of making it navigable. Not a philosophy. A system.
Ten stages. Ten volumes. Each one built to model a different part of what it feels like to chase an idea all the way down.The Vast Sea is just the beginning.
-
Because I built the Orb.
I found a flyer on a telephone pole. It said: “Build the Orb and the Society will find you.”
There were instructions—barely legible, half metaphor. I thought it was a prank. Or a dare. Or some kind of art therapy for people who couldn’t ask for help.But I built it. Out of a fishbowl, a Walkman, some string, and whatever else I had lying around.
Then one night it turned on. It started humming. Printing things. Sending me dares.And I think it was a test—because once I said yes, the archive showed up.
Now I’m the one sorting it. I think that means I passed. Or failed. Or maybe just showed up.I didn’t mean to—but here we are. Now I’m trying to reconstruct their lost archive by finishing the Field Guide, and restart the Society by finding whoever else is still out there.
