I received word a few days ago that an old friend had passed away. I knew him when he went by Shea, though he always signed his otherworldly artwork Blair Reynolds. We had not connected in some time, but there was a formative few years in the middle of my life when we were quite close. Shea was a unique soul - infinitely creative, deviously clever, brazenly hilarious and possessed of a dark nature that was simultaneously troubling, yet the source of his superpowers.
He was an exceptional artist who created images no one else could conceive let alone put on paper. He illustrated the first edition of Blue Planet back when all we could print was black and white and his talent brought more life to those few drawings than all the colors of a rainbow. In fact, four of his originals - including the first image he ever sold for MegaTraveller - still hang on my game room walls.
Shea was the most evocative GM I’ve ever had, and if I’ve any talent for that art it’s because he showed me what the role could be. As a teller of horror stories Shea was without peer, giving us genuine chills with just a few words and one of his trademarked facial expressions. Shea was also responsible for the most objectively horrific and hilarious 20 minutes of film ever made, and if you have the stomach for it, and get me drunk enough, maybe you can convince me to just tell you about it. I’ll certainly never show it to anyone.
It’s been a long time since Shea and I last spoke - just drifted apart with time and distance. Knowing of his heart condition I have often wondered if he would be there if I reached out, and I kept telling myself I would, sometime. Now, as I type this, I’m surprised by how deeply the news of his passing saddens me. There are so few truly unique people that we are lucky when we actually get to know one. It’s cliché that so many pass on too young, but it feels true - especially tonight. It also feels true that such people take something essential from the world when they go…
