My teammates say we shouldn’t care what the audience thinks, because we’re just there to have fun & summon the dead with our pals. Are they right?

No, not at all! Perform the Rite of Unbinding (see “Lesser Rites & Rituals”), sacrifice the smallest among them to your patron or patroness, and find a new coven.

n.b.: Kidding! Don’t actually sacrifice anyone until you try and sway them to a better way of thinking.

This philosophy is, at its core, infantile. It seems to be resurgent, lately, and I feel almost as if I’m under a geas to stamp it out. Some who subscribe to this view even deign to unironically call improv “make-’em-ups,” as if to minimize the craft and, thus, minimize the emotional & mental risks they feel they are taking. As with many bad improv habits or thoughts, it ultimately stems from Fear. How can you fail, if you’re just “goofin’ around with your buddies?” Who cares what some “schlubs in the cheap seats” think if you only summon a handmaiden of Death and not Death herself? Ridiculous. Childish! If you just “wanna have a good time with mah frandz,” you can do it in a living room, or a properly-wattled cave. Or a jam.

If you perform for an audience, you are making art for consumption, whether you like it or not. That’s the simple fact of what is happening. You are on a stage — or an ornate, sanctified dais — generating art. And the people & spirits in the audience are there, consuming it. And you can have a bad show. You can trap the wrong demon, or turn stone to water instead of ice. It happens to the best of us! But, it’s art, and thus it’s a risk. An improvisator ought not pretend otherwise.

Is a starling an acceptable substitute for a robin redbreast, or a thrush?

Only in cases where you do not need the beaks or bones — so, NEVER.

Should I dress a certain way when performing?

Yes, of course.

For short form, any base material will do, so long as it is unblended. That is, it ought be pure wool, or pure polyester, etc. Mixing materials will result in poor conduction of your energies, slowing you down during speed rounds and fogging your mind during guessing games.

For long form, only natural materials will suffice. As it is a more complex working, the life-echoes present in natural fibers are crucial to cohesion & success. As well, your long form robes ought to be unadorned, so that any number of mental images may be projected onto you in the course of the improvisation. For short form, it may serve you to sew in the seal or sigil of your coven; this can enhance your team’s soulbond, and delight the simpler minds in the crowd.

In all cases, bring extra boots; for, after about fifteen minutes, they will be soaked through with blood, ichor, and/or kerosene. And, be sure to always bring zero pairs of sandals.

What makes an improvisator “Advanced?”

There are many symbols some carry in order to seem advanced; certain trinkets, trophies, or talismans. For example, some carry medallions with lists of their now-dead Harold covens. Some whisper old spells, passed on by Del Close himself, as if they were there at their crafting. And, occasionally, one finds those who whittle notches in their staffs, litanies of stagetime. But all these are empty glamour, if they haven’t blood & spirit to accompany them. Anyone may accrue stagetime, or parrot Close’s cantrips. The passage of time is common to all mortal beings of this plane, and does not an advanced improvisator make.

No, as with all things, it is much more nuanced and complex. Beginners are easy to spot, of course. They take delight in a simple rhyming hex, or find themselves surprised by the very notion of rune-reading. Novices in any field are clear enough. But how does one advance? What does that entail?

Part of it is, yes, the passage of time. One cannot advance without it. But true growth is only spurred by reflection and learning. Legends of improvmoots you’ve attended, tales of late-night workings in front of three laymen, memories of mentors long since vanished into the astral plane…these mean nothing if they are not attached to some kind of lesson in the mind of the one who tells them. An improvisator advances as he looks back on his past mistakes and chuckles, wondering how he could be so naive. An improvisator advances as her knowledge of the craft deepens, as she goes beyond rules & recipes to craft her own. An improvisator advances as it advances the art, forging new ideas from the old, finding new demigods to bargain with.

So no, not every old improvisator is a wise one, or an advanced one. True, one cannot get there without floating along the river of time. But if you simply nap in your boat, all you’ll do is pass it all by. Awake. Reflecting. Creating. This is the path to advancement.