Dungeon World for Parsantium?

Tags

AD&D, D&D, Mythic, Role playing games, RPG, story telling, Story telling game

Our group got together, minus one (or two if you count Alan who can only very rarely join), and this usually means that the  Parsantium  campaign usually takes a back seat for boardgames.

This time we asked Simon to take up the role of DM to play a single episode RPG using the Dungeon World rules.

Dungeon World (DW) claims to provide original D&D feel with next to none of the D&D mechanics. At first this seemed a ridiculous claim until I compared my experiences with what I remember from playing 1st ed AD&D so long ago in my teenage years. Back then, I seem to recall, the rules were more like pointers or aides memoire rather than a concrete set of instructions. We just talked shit and if we needed to roll a few dice every now and then we did. Today I look at D&D5e and despite its massive simplifications it’s still a mechanistic process laden with detail.

So what was the special element that DW brought to the table? Thinking about what your character was doing rather than simply manipulating a set of attributes in a mix-n-match boardgame, basically.

Now you could do this naturally, of course, and if you have been moving towards story-gaming this is the way you do it. But it does seem to me that we, as the game buying public, have been spoilt into accepting finished, completed, wrapped up products. It’s an exercise of selecting just-the-right shaped game tool and applying it. Complete with art and seamless mechanics and all the other shit that we used to dream about as kids. And the effect is that it dumbs you down to expect and be only able to respond in a limited, approved fashion. DW kills that.

I could wax lyrical on this topic – and have been until I deleted it. But you either understand what I mean or you don’t. Back in the 80’s we used to talk about the difference between Role players and Roll players. Either this means something to you and you happily fit in one camp or the other, or it means nothing, in which case I’m not sure how to reach you.

In any case, what are the key mechanics of DW that facilitates talking about doing stuff in your imagination as opposed to running a fantasy skirmish wargame? (Both are OK, I hasten to add: they are just very different.)

Dungeon World changes the task resolution roll from a simple Yes/No result to a Yes/Yes But/No (and sometime No And).

In D&D (and any other mainstream RPG) you roll a die (or dice), add or subtract factors, and if you roll better than a target you succeed, if worse you fail. ‘His armor class is 16. You need to roll 16 or better to hit him.’ and so on. Hit or miss. No story to speak of.

In DW you roll and if your results indicate you succeed as advertised (do damage, pick the lock, climb the wall, whatever), or you succeed BUT something else happens that you can choose (sword stuck, dislodge a stone and make a noise, etc), or you fail and the DM may inflict something on you. This simple change creates results that propel a story and do not just produce an exercise of rolling dice.

When you think back on a combat or an action in ordinary D&D you make up the story, ‘remembering’ to enliven the dull rolls with action. DW makes that happen as it happens. You don’t need to make up the story about what your roll might have meant. Your roll tells you.

Dungeon World is not the first game to try to do this. Mythic was a magnificent introduction to the world of telling stories rather than beating dice rolls. But DW bridges the gap between traditional pen and paper RPGs and genuine Story Games by constraining the elements into known parameters. Bards do Bard things and are typically bardish people. In this way it is reminiscent of Risus where that character class is just a set of cliches rather than a set of rules. This restriction may seem constricting if you think the purpose of the set of rules is to provide you with mechanical factors to min/max. But a short and broad set of guidelines is a lot more free than a very long list of concrete rules.

So what, you might ask? As a long time DM and only seldom player I can tell you that the pressure of being the entertainer for a group of people can be quite daunting. In traditional RPGs the DM has to know everything, be everywhere, have it all sorted out and know the answers. You can abrogate this responsibility by using prepared material, but the result is the same. Some people get to live in the world and your job is to make it happen for them. That’s a lot of work and responsibility. With this set you get to explore and discover the world with the players.

Anyway, what did I discover about Parsantium using Dungeon World?

• Elves pretty much believe that only they have souls. Everyone else, the short lived creatures, are more or less biological robots
• There are few than 20,000 elves left in the world
• A civil war amongst the elves long ago was precipitated by a pact with a demon. The losers of this civil war were exiled, entombed, imprisoned magically
• The surviving victors of the civil war, those who opposed the demon and its perverted elves, are weak, few and are more or less becoming extinct
• The barriers holding the perverted imprisoned are becoming weaker. They call out to be free

Advertisements

Loose ends from the Typhoon Maiden’s visit to Cadiz

Tags

Mythic, Role playing games, Story telling game, Wargaming

When I started this story I randomly generated a name. That was, ‘The Mascot’. This still makes no sense, but it is worth keeping in mind as the final episode of the campaign should specifically tie up that loose end.

These are the other loose ends and thoughts about this episode:

1) Jump/Gate tech. The Typhoon Maiden (TyMa) arrived in Imperial Space using it’s own warp engines. These are now useless because the mutant Navigator is dead. However, they have been modified to work with the JumpWeb gates using the Keys supplied by the Charioteer’s Guild. Given that few of the remaining mutant Astrogators understood the working principles of the warp drive, and the Engineering staff are concerned with keeping things running rather than understanding, it seems likely that the TyMa is completely at the mercy of the Charioteer’s Guild. Their monopoly is not challenged by the TyMa. Therefore, port authorities in each system will deal with the TyMa in exactly the same way as they would any other ship arriving and leaving by exactly the same mechanism: the gates.

2) The Astrogators have turned their complete attention to listening to the warp to reestablish contact with their immortal god/demon in the Imperium. This will have interesting consequences as they traverse the gates and suffer/enjoy the Sathraic Mysteries. What are the implications for the activities of the Religious Police (RePo)?

3) The TyMa stayed in Cadiz space for over a year, repairing itself, reconfiguring its engines and trading. It then powered out system for a couple of months to the gate. There will be a lot of new (alien) technology and goods aboard. It is likely that there are many new people on board, and many may have stayed on Cadiz.

4) Of the characters, Lantedo would not be missed; Locum was registered but such a small fish it would be assumed he came to a bad end somewhere; Pårole was at a loose end and had not been incorporated into any new military or civil structure, and it would be assumed he probably went AWOL on Cadiz; Gnosticos was a robot and so no one would care. Phesigns would be missed by his father, who would make enquiries. It would be known that he was detained by SePo but then released. It might be known or guessed that he went down to Cadiz, but that would be all that could be determined. Phesigns’ father might agitate amongst the other families (need to explore the families in more detail sometime) because he suspects foul play. The shuttle is unlikely to be missed in any case as it was only one of thousands of vehicles that come and go from the vast hangers every day. Ultimately, the disappearance of the party remains either a mystery or unnoticed as the TyMa powers out.

5) With Phesigns’ father making enquiries, SePo may open a case (as might Criminal Police KriPo). Missing citizens is nothing in itself, but all of the recently detained people simultaneously disappearing does seem more than a coincidence. We can assume that surveillance combing might uncover the initial negotiations on the park deck. These people will be subject to closer scrutiny.

6) All we know for sure is that the people that hired the party did not get any information back from the party. We know they were confronted by security forces – but whose? We do not know for sure. Whoever they were, they are now in possession of the damaging intelligence that the Vau conference and treaty was somehow sabotaged. House Decados is known for its superior intelligence network – does this mean that they somehow missed something vital and were digging it up, or were they always in possession of the information and were trying to bury it? Or was it someone else altogether, perhaps the Vau themselves? Massive open thread…

7) Finally, it will now be known that an alien ship, the TyMa, is in Imperial Space. Genetically and culturally the new comers are very similar to the indigenes. All of the Houses will be trying to work out how to use these visitors to their own advantage in dynastic struggles.

Mythic Ravenloft – Scene nine

Tags

30yw, 80 Years War, Campaign, Mythic, Story telling game

When they woke, this time for real, they were in a dimly lit and dingy church. Significant damage had been inflicted on the structure: holes gaped in the sagging roof and ragged apertures pierced the walls. Stains streaked the walls from the rain, and rubble was strewn across the floor mixed with smashed pews. The altar was partially smashed, with claw marks rending its surface. Statues and frescoes were defaced, with amputated limbs and smears and slashes from unknown liquids and weapons.

A figure crouched at the altar, mumbling feebly. Grubby candles cast a dismal light as the darkness gathered outside.

*********

The fight had been short and simple: Dide sidestepped Ernat’s clumsy lunge and clubbed him behind the ear. Then, one at a time, he dragged the hardly protesting soldiers to the decrepit church at the north side of town. There he found the emaciated and barely sane priest and, with his help, had revived the men.

*********

Ernat was furious at himself and stalked about the church kicking at rubbish and cursing the unknown forces that had rendered him insensible. The rest clustered about holding their heads, either in shame or in hangover recovery or both.

“What the hell is going on, Jurisco?” Ernat demanded. “You’re the God-botherer around here. What’s the meaning of this?”

Jurisco ran his thumb along his crucifix as if testing the blade of a razor.

“Some sort of devilry, certainly,” he said, uncertainly.

“Let’s burn this shit hole to the ground,” declared Albergio. He lurched to his feet and wrenched out his uncared for sword. “Christ on the cross,” he said, “The bugger’s nearly rusted through!”

He started shouting the others into order until Jurisco reminded him that they were in a church. Warming to his task, the camp priest started to lecture the group on their tardiness to duty, conveniently overlooking his own fall into debauchery. His tirade was cut short before he could work himself up into lather by the sound of thumping at the door.

“Expecting someone?” said Gari.

“It’s begun,” wailed the pathetic parish priest from his altar, and he renewed his Latin prayers in a louder, though more fearful voice.

“What’s begun?” said Ernat as he strode to the door and threw it open.

There were a dozen, maybe more, people waiting outside. Their skin was pallid and drawn around their mouths revealing teeth drawn in a rictus of hunger. Bones protruded against their collarbones and elbows and their yellow eyes were febrile with a hunger for something other than food. As the door opened their arms raised as one with a clawing motion as if to grab, grasp and rend, and then they staggered forward. The movement of their walking forced the air from their lungs past their voice boxes producing a repellent moan. Their breath, as it washed over Ernat, was a cold mist that reeked of decay and corruption. Ernat recoiled involuntarily at the tide, his mind overwhelmed by the crashing perversity of the scene confronting him.

“Who the fuck are they?” said Eduare.

“The dead!” shrieked the cowering village priest. “The dead that walk.”

This was the cue that Albergio had been looking for and he leapt forward.

“Dead, my arse,” he said. “But they soon will be. The buggers.”

Despite the dullness of their weapons and the out-of-form rustiness of their movement, the party quickly overcame the mass of shambling monstrosities. Only minor cuts and bruises were suffered, all from weak and seemingly random scratches. The creatures that had gathered at the door were now dismembered hunks of putrescent meat. A foul stench filled the church, but this seemed a minor concern to the soldiers of Spain so used to the carnal house of slaughter in the Low Countries.

“What the hell was that about?” asked Ernat, turning back to the village priest. “What were these Protestant monsters?”

The priest did not answer. He was partially covered by the now still body of one of the creatures, fended off at the last moment in a desperate defence. Dide threw the noxious corpse aside and knelt down beside the clearly dying priest. Blood spilled from a half dozen rends in his chest.

“Ireena Kolyana,” he said, and coughed blood.

“Who the hell is that?” said Eduare as he looked down, wiping the ichor from his sword on a ripped tapestry.

“Shut up, fool,” said Jurisco. He knelt beside the dying priest and prepared to receive his confession. He started to recite the necessary rites but was interrupted again by the failing, gurgling voice.

“Daughter… daughter, they say, of the Mayor. She is the key.”

Before anyone could start with some kind of puerile speculation the priest continued. His voice was weaker now, though he seemed determined to finish.

“… she is not his natural daughter. He found her, at the foot of the cliffs. Old Kolyan took her in. But she is the key to our salvation…”

Mythic Ravenloft – Scene eight

Tags

30yw, 80 Years War, Campaign, Fantasy, Mythic, Ravenloft, story telling, Story telling game

Dide blinked and looked around. It was midday and he sat in the middle of the town square along with the rest of the party as they usually did on days that were not raining or snowing. Today the sun streaked thin through the grey clouds, imparting a mild warmth that was just enough to provoke germination of the winter vegetables languishing in the fields.

A couple of tables sat between them, roughly piled with flasks of harsh liquor and cold roasted meat. Ernat sat hunched forward, desultorily carving his initials even deeper in the table that was already covered in an arabesque of his work. The others slouched or sprawled as was their wont as chickens pecked around their feet.

Drunk, as usual, Dide thought. And only midday, if that. He looked at the diffuse glow of the sun and tried to calculate the time. How long have we been this shit-faced, he wondered. Five days, five weeks, more? He could not remember. His entire time since that first night after the gypsy visit had blurred into a haze.

Dide squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. Then stretched them open and tried to stand. What the hell was going on? Women were nearby. Some were working: carrying and fetching. Others hovered as if they expected something of him. Many, perhaps all, he recognised as one he’d taken: but when? And who were these kids that scampered nearby that gambolled over to call him Dad? He slapped one away as the snot-nose tried to crawl in his lap and he pushed himself away from the table. He tipped backwards and landed on his back in the mud.

“God’s teeth,” he bellowed and staggered to his feet.

In a fury he tried to draw his sword but it stuck in the scabbard. Looking down he found that his sleave was ragged. So was his tunic. His trews were torn at the knees, and his boots had split. How had he not noticed this? What the hell was happening?!

From a nearby fence Dide heard the familiar, ‘Farrrk,’ of a crow. There were three of them perched in a row and they seemed to be taking a particular interest in his confusion.

“Devil take you, bastard,” he said and drew his pistol. But the spring was unwound, the pan unprimed and rust defaced its surfaces.

“Faaaaark,” repeated the biggest of the crows, who then threw himself into the air and, followed by his two brethren messengers, fled north.

Dide followed their path with his eyes until they focussed on the castle, perched on a sheer outcropping up an impossible mountain. His jaw dropped and he wondered how he had not noticed this outlandish structure before. Or had he? Something tickled his memory, but the enormity of his sudden sobriety came crashing in upon his senses.

“Get up, you ugly bastards,” he shouted, and heaved the table nearest to him on its side, spilling the food and drink into the mud.

Eduare lurched to his feet and started to say some placatory sentence that just from his look Dide suspected would be pathetic and unworthy of hearing. Without allowing the words to form Dide brutally kicked Eduare in the guts. The younger man fell to his hands and knees and started to vomit.

Ernat looked up from his carving and his eyes took on a harder glint. Changing the grip on his dagger he stood. His eyes said murder, but they were also the eyes of someone in a dream. As he stepped around the table Dide knew that Ernat was a better knife fighter than him, but this was not a sober Ernat. This Ernat was, as were they all, drugged, or enchanted, or something.

“You can try, chief,” Dide said, “but not before I’ve beaten you awake.”

Mythic Ravenloft – Where has the time gone?

Tags

30yw, 80 Years War, Campaign, Mythic, Ravenloft, story telling, Story telling game

Mythic Ravenloft is a story telling game that I started in 2009. It was based on the AD&D module Castle Ravenloft and used the mechanisms of Mythic Games Master Emulator to allow me to create a GMless story. My story is in a roughly historical context set in the year 1620 during the cataclysmic 80 Years War. The protagonists are a group of Spanish harquebusiers that have left their own lines around Breda to forage for food.

It is a time of devastation and cruelty; a time that gave rise to apocalyptic visions. The protagonists are not good men, and they are drawn to the Realm of Shadow (or whatever) as some kind of punishment, penance, or test. I don’t know yet: that’s the point of the story.

Many years have passed since I last wrote for this story and there are many reasons for that. Partly it has been the lure of other periods and topics, partly it has been because of weariness with the darkly romantic late Renaissance. But lately my thoughts have returned to that period, and my minds-eye again looks across the valley of Barovia and up the impossible mountain to view Castle Ravenloft. And I wonder: what became of the soldiers of Spain exiled there? What have they been doing all this time? Certainly they have not solved anything and found peace – because I would know if they had. They are still there. Mired and trapped like flies in honey, docile and drugged like the cattle-people of the village.

Now it is time to wake.

Here are the preceding story elements in order:

Introduction

Character development

Setting development

Rules development

Tools for the rules

Scene one

Scene two

Thoughts on the ecology of zombies

Scene three point one

Scene three point two

Scene four

Scene five

Scene six

Scene seven

The main deck of the Typhoon Maiden

Tags

Mythic, Rogue Trader, Savage Worlds, Story telling game, WH40k

The main living deck of the voidship known as the Typhoon Maiden generally resembles a lowrise city. The ceiling is some four stories from the floor, and living spaces are built just like free standing buildings within that space. This creates streets, alleys, crossroads, and courtyards, and gives the whole space an organic feeling.

Originally the roof was painted in pleasing shades of blue with some cloud and was lit from concealed lamps that simulated a normal terrestrial pattern. However, over the years the roof has become dirty with smoke from cooking fires, pock marked from gun fights and generally stained to a sepia colour through countless exhalations and no maintenance (much like the polluted atmosphere of Earth, I guess). Many of the lamps have expired and have never been replaced, leaving a variable lighting system of some electric light and predominantly local solutions such as burning torches.

Architecturally the orginal design of the city was based on psychosocial engineering principles to make the spaces pleasant for human life. This tended to resemble medieval alleyways and gothic buildings, with walled courtyards, centralised fountain squares, and numerous nooks and crannies, balconies, stairways and ‘hidden treasures’. It is a very ‘human’ environment, consciously mimicing the structures of the distant past that grew from organic action rather than cold calculation of efficiency. This irony: planning to look unplanned, produces many side effects. At the simplest level the designer’s goals were achieved. Humans live and move in the spaces provided, discovering and creating ‘homes’ and finding privacy in a very densely occupied area. On the other hand the same town planning principles produces havens for filth, dark corners where murders can occur, and an almost endless choice of warrens where the venal can congregate. It is a place where washing lines are strung accross the lane, where excrement is thrown in the street, where bodies are found in the gutter, where wild street parties end in druken orgies and riots, where you can get a great meal from a trattoria that you have to find by personal direction because it is not signposted, and where you can slip into a basement bar and arrange a robbery.

This is the home of the majority of the 18,000 crew of the Typhoon Maiden: a space 1.5km by 500m (75 hectares or 185 acres).

One’s accomodation is a reflection of your wealth and power. The trading barons, for example, have multi-story homes that have walled gardens attached, where they can retire under a comparatively high ceiling and hold their parties or just meditate. The poor, of course, can be found in limited comfort apartments in one of the crumbling, sweating brown-stones.

I’ll try to be more specific on some of the streets, shops and houses in the future. But that will do for a general impression now.

Along the sides of the city, closest to the outer hull, runs a pair of canals. These canals collect the ‘rain’ water that is periodically sprayed over the city to clean it, and also any other waste water of products that is ejected from the houses. The water flows from nose to tail of the ship, where it is returned to the engine spaces for sterilisation and recycling back into the general use water. Gigantic pumps force the ‘clean’ water to the nose of the ship, producing a constant flow down the lateral canals. It is a popular place, therefore, for little boys to sail boats, lovers to sit beside, and for use as a dumping spot for bodies.

On the far side of the canals, over decorative bridges, access can be gained to the galleries that offer panoramic external views. These galleries make excellent private meeting spots and are popular places as the ship moves in system to view the planets. When in the Warp the galleries are generally shunned for fear that looking out might attract the attention of something that might want to look in.

Global Slum – a story-telling game

Tags

hyper capitalism, Mythic, Science Fiction, story telling, Story telling game

After what seems an eternity, Simon and Greg and I managed to get together for a story-telling game. We used many elements of my story toolbox, including Brewer’s Dictionary of Phrase and Fable, several decks of cards showing randomised locations, emotions and characters, and a stack of dice. This time I rolled out some large sheets of paper in case anyone wanted to doodle, as we had found in the past that visuals can help, but no one did.

I took notes at the time and where I have these notes and/or remember I will record the actual decision points that led us down different paths. These notes will occur in square brackets [like this].

Our story-telling games start with some random seed words to help us get an idea of the genre, the time and the place. Instant Game has some tables for this, but a table is by definition a limitation by virtue of what it excludes, so we referred to Brewers to get some seed ideas.

They were:

Falling Stars

Order of the Garter

Crikey!

And after some discussion we described the following world. This picture developed through the course of the story, but I will write it here as if we had the whole picture at the start:

On a distant planet (or in some future time) hyper-capitalism has reached its zenith. Fantastic advances had delivered unprecedented wonders and luxuries, from synthetic meat products to robotics to new power sources. But only for the few that can afford them. The world is mostly an ecological wasteland, overpopulated at ground level. The population has been segregated into the descendants of the mega-rich, the Cranes, the 1% that live in cloud piercing megacities, and the Worms, the teeming billions that eke out savage lives building and rebuilding in the ruins of the crumbling global metropolis below. For the Cranes, life is a dreamland of plenty, comfort and freedom. Their daily lives are accompanied by purified air, mood matching auto-scents and background music. They are clean, hairless, healthy in their hermetically sealed environments, probably products of genetic manipulation to enhance these traits, and contemptuous of the brutal animals that live on the ground – if they think about them at all. The spire cities are largely independent from the surrounding countryside.

For the Worms, life is a nightmare of disease and privation. Natural resources are all but exhausted. Sources of high tech energy producing materials, such as radio-actives, are monopolised by the Cranes using lethal force. Little natural wildlife or vegetation remains, and that which does is contaminated with industrial waste. The Worms swarm through the middens of the former functioning cities, building over and reoccupying the same ground, but never managing to clear and restart. Traditions are rich down here, one imagines, but at the same time the only prey left are other humans and one gets the impression of a Rapa Nue, only on a global urbanised scale.

Overall, the inhabitants of the Global Slum are ‘free’, in that there is little in the way of government other than local arrangements between gangs. Worms are ‘free’ to work hard, save their money and they too may earn a place in a spire city… except that the price of such an enterprise is astronomical given the paltry sums available.

The Cranes know they are ‘free’ to pursue their own goals and destinies. No governments rule them. Their monopolisation of the wealth and resources of the planet has produced islands of plenty in a sea of privation.

Woven into this we had the Order of the Garter, an organisation rumoured to be powerbrokers in a way similar to the masons or the Jesuits. Themes of religion and false prophets ran through these discussions, but we concluded that though religious differences between the Cranes and the Worms it probably did not impact us directly (yet).

It was a planet of slums. Naturally, there is some kind of activity and economy going on down at ground level but who knows what it looks like? Not us, we discovered after our first question: are we (the protagonists of the story) Cranes or Worms?

We turned out to be Cranes: a cunning ranger, a romantic agent, and a nefarious crone (though we concluded that a crone in this setting probably means someone who looks older than 29).

Satisfied that we had a general artistic impression of the setting, we started the actual ‘story’.

[Where are we? Underwater, the place deck informed us.]

After tossing around many possibilities we used one of the starting conditions: Falling Stars. We had been travelling on a Needle, one of the hypersonic air shuttles that connected the spire cities, and it had crashed. This was a mystery, of course, because needles never crash. The technology was so mature, so automated that accidents of that sort simply did not happen. Clearly it had been brought down by some external agency.

Tuning the cabin wall to be a screen for an external view, we found that we had come to rest half submerged in a vast cesspool. The crashing needle had left a kilometres long scar in the cities. Fires burned behind us. Thousands (of Worms) must have been killed.

A crowd was already forming and there were clearly hostile. Also in the crowd was a well-dressed man, clearly a Crane. What was he doing here? An excellent question. But another one that was equally important was, what are we doing here?

Consulting Brewers we found Cadre, and concluded that we were military professionals and the rest of the passengers were our greenhorn charges. Our task, we decided, was to get these guys back to the nearest city through this clearly hostile environment: a Blackhawk Down training scenario, perhaps. (And at this point it felt a little like an inside out Escape from New York to me.)

Exiting the cabin we were immediately revolted by the smell and feel of the place. Filth clung to our pristine whites and we were all nauseated by the stench. Sloshing out, we decided to approach the mysterious man, but he eluded us through the crowd. A few well placed high energy shots cleared a path and we picked our way over the dozens of smoking corpses.

Our quarry breasted a rise and we found ourselves in a cleared area. [Where does he lead us: Desert, from the places deck.] It was still rubbish strewn but had no structures. More strange in this overpopulated hell was the complete absence of sound. This unnerved us as we had been surrounded since birth with comforting sounds of the megacities, such as music, the human voice, the humming of machinery and simulated sounds of nature.

However, the scene changed dramatically as we descended [Scene interruption: PC Negative. Negligence, Pain]. The Ranger, despite his caution, stepped on some kind of explosive device. Though he was unharmed, the sudden shock sent our naïve troops into a frenzy. They formed a hedgehog and blasted the surrounding area till their powerpacks were empty, vaporising the buildings visible beyond the rim of the depression we occupied and probably killing thousands of Worms that had gathered to watch our progress. As their weapons cooled with musical tinkling sounds, we realised that we were now out of ammo.

The Agent (Simon) noticed that in one of the remains of a sheared building, water was still running. This implied either a pump operating somewhere, or it just implied that the local were not so useless that they could still produce usable plumbing. In any case, we hastily investigated before the surviving locals recovered their wits and ripped us limb from limb.

In the rubble we found a piece of smart paper. The known emblem of the Order of the Garter was still visible, though decayed.

Then we found an entrance to an underground passage, and descending we found ourselves in a large chamber. Along the walls stretching into the far distance there were cylinders that appeared to contain lifeless humans. On investigation we discovered several things. Firstly, they appeared healthy, not decayed. It seemed likely that they were in some kind of suspended animation. Secondly, and shockingly, they had hair on their heads and groins. It was positively bestial as far as we civilised Cranes were concerned.

Searching further we were confronted by four people dressed as civilised Cranes, though they too had hair in the manner of the savages. One was the first man we had seen. With him were another man and two women, the last of whom had a natural authority.

And at that point we decided to quit for the night.

Tune in for the next episode.

There’s been a murder, and someone is responsible

Tags

Mythic, story telling, Story telling game

Something about the onset of winter has me thinking about story-telling games again. The Last Valley needs some more work – I’ve been developing the wargame rules for Ganesha for a while now, but have not explored any personal stories for a quite some time. Also on the list was Hellfrost, but although I have built the supporting material that Dark Ages kind of story has always been Greg’s passion, and so this one needs to wait a bit longer for the green light.

All of which brings me back to Hân Rokugan, the crime detection stories leveraging the writings of Robert van Gulik and the prepared setting of the Legend of the Five Rings. I’ve always seen this setting in a more classical Chinese way in preference to a Japanese interpretation, but the reality is none of us are expert enough to really quibble. The theme is a structured, cultivated, ordered society, in which the forces of law confront the aberration of the unexpected.

The specific location for the story will be Ryoko Owari, the City of Lies.

As tools we will used our well tested enquiry resolution table v11, the usual array of dictionaries and encyclopaedias and a bunch of tables that I may well make into cards.

And the story will start like this, “There has been a murder, and someone is responsible. A body has been found in the canal, and we must get to the bottom of this before the city is thrown into chaos and the Empire is imperilled.”

Because for a mystery there is nothing like a murder, and it cannot be just any sordid thing. It has to be a big thing: a defining moment in the history of the city.

After that introduction the story will hopefully take a life of its own as we ask questions, pursue leads, and draw conclusions. The goal is to run a complete investigation in a single sitting.

Enquiry table update

Tags

FATE, FUDGE, Mythic, Role Playing, Role playing games, Savage Worlds, Silhouette dice, story telling, Story telling game, wargames

The Enquiry Table has been one of the mainstays of our story-jamming activities. We use it for miniature wargames as well, and it would have easy application for a conventional role-playing game, though this is not something wedo any more.

Its last use was for the Strange Seas game at the Nunawading Wargames Club where I unleashed it on a totally naive audience. My impression is that it was received well. It certainly received questions and requests for copies.

Through repeated use I have found room for improvement. The original nine categories were derived from Mythic. When used, this seems to cause a brain freeze for many people as there seems too much choice. Often, the selection of category was either in the middle (50/50) or the extreme (million to one). The intermediate categories are so similar that they are redundant.

Reducing the number of categories to seven greatly improves this situation. Million to one, to Long shot, to A possibility, to 50/50 is an easier progression. Another advantage of the seven point scale is that it fits perfectly into a FUDGE/FATE interpetation, and I have added those alternate words for alternate use at the bottom. I used Steffan O’Sullivan’s new interpretation: VG (Very Good) FUDGE, as I think it is a superior and intuitive scale.

Below that I find that the seven point scale elegantly fits our Silhouette dice system, and below that the Savage Worlds dice system as well.

Technically, this tool covers everything required for a role-playing, story-telling, and wargame system. And it has built in conversion to the published systems that I admire.

The picture at top is just for illustrative purposes. Get a nice version here: enquiry resolution table v11

The Last Valley, week 2. Set up.

Tags

28mm, Mythic, the last valley, Wargame campaign, wargames, Wargaming

Last time, you will recall, Ernat and his company of soldiers had settled themselves into the valley.

A week later the weather had not improved and already there were rumblings of disagreement with the decision to stay and exploit rather than raze and move on. The sunsets had been blood red: a clear sign to the pious that God himself was in violent disagreement with the plan to lounge here in this den of Satan when a war was raging without.

The cavalrymen of Dide’s group were of the opinion that the decision to stay had been a poor one. Under the leadership of Lewis Wildgrube, they had met in an abandoned blacksmith’s workshop in Lansby Vale to discuss what to do about it. Their plan was two-fold. Firstly they would attempt to convince the musketeers under Jurisco’s command to join them. Then they would capture the captain and force him to issue new orders. If he disagreed they would kill him and elect a new leader – preferably Dide.

However, their plan was undone when Dide got wind of the plot and rode alone to confront them on that bitter windswept night.

The resulting fight between Dide and Lewis would change the shape of the company. This is the fight that will occur next, using Flashing Steel duelling rules.

And here are the raw dice rolls against the tables developed and uploaded earlier that informed this narrative:

Scenario for TLV Campaign. Week 2.

Internal or External event (odd – internal. Even – external): 2. An external event. But in the end the narrative made it pretty much and internal event, and I’m OK with that.

Weather: 3, no change. The weather continues cold with rain.

Where: 14. Lansby Vale.

Place events: 31. Nomadic Horseman’s tomb

People Events: 30. Mutiny in the ranks

Acts of God: 33. Red sunsets three days in a row

Textures: 3. Abandoned

Significant terrain: 5. Blacksmith

Eye Catchers: 32. Heretical symbols.

Mutiny? Is it led by one of the officers? Long Shot: No.

In whose group does this mutiny start? Dide – The Cuirassiers.

Dide is a persuasive talker. Is it possible that he has inadvertently given his men the idea that he disagrees with the Captain’s decisions? Do they think they are quietly doing what Dide wants? 50/50. Yes, but. They do, but Dide definitely does not want to split the company.

Does Dide get wind of the mutinous plot? Safe bet. Yes, and. He takes it as a personal matter. Without telling the captain he confronts his men on the hilltop in the abandoned blacksmith’s shop.

What was the nature of the plot? Imprison/Enemies. The plotters wanted to snatch the captain and hold him, convincing him to change plans and lead the company elsewhere. If he did not comply they would kill him and make Dide the leader.

What did they intend to do next? Cruelty/Art. Jurisco is considered the artist of the group. He is also the one most hard on the locals. The rebellious horsemen were planning to approach his group of musketeers and with them they would have the rump of the company on side.

Had they already made contact? Fair chance. No. So they are still in the planning phase and isolated.

The five horsemen are: Garin Hochberg (Choleric), Dustin Steuben (Phlegmatic), Waggoner Keil (Choleric), Lewis Wildgrube (Choleric), Ellery Linden (Melancholic). So the majority of these men are hot headed and aggressive, as suits their role as cavalrymen, and traditional types at that. Lewis (26 brave, 28 merciful, 33 change averse) seems to be the ringleader of this group.

Does Lewis challenge Dide? Long shot. Yes. Despite Lewis’ apparent loyalty to Dide and resistance to change, he challenges Dide for the leadership of the group of horsemen.

And so now we know the wargame scenario. It is a Flashing Steel skirmish between Dide and Lewis in and around the blacksmith’s shop. The other troopers will not interfere.

If Dide wins the remaining troopers rejoin the company and Dide will say nothing to the captain. As far as he is concerned the matter will be closed, whether or not Lewis is alive.

If Lewis wins he will lead the other troopers out of the valley, reducing the company by that group.

In both cases opportunities are left open for repercussions of this fight.