In Which the Warlock Pencils a Potential Plotline...

It's been a while since I've jumped in on the RPG Blog Carnival, but this month's entry gave me some special impetus:  it's being hosted by Lindevi, over at TripleCrit.com!

In light of NaNoWriMo and the concurrent-running NaGaDeMon, DigitalKat posits the following question:

So what about you, RPG Bloggers?  Why do you write about games?  In what form does your writing crop up in your campaigns?  What's your process, your stumbling blocks, your passion?  How has writing helped you or your table?  Or is writing more like a CR 8 Succubus whose torturous siren song hurts so good and dominates your very being?

Writing is part and parcel of my gaming 'process', as you probably could imagine.  Between my work on Cold Steel Wardens and the various convention games I've run over the years, it's been my continual effort to provide a series of adventures and materials to serve as my role-playing "legacy".  While doing so can sometimes be tedious--writing up stat blocks is a particular bugaboo of mine--there are quite a few tasks that I particularly relish.

One of my favorites is the "character vignette".  Usually stemming from an NPC's contact with given PC, these vignettes flesh out the world at large by speaking within a character's voice.

Case in point:  my "Tear of Ioun" campaign from a few years back.  Chris II's character, Martook, came in a veteran of Blackfall's most elite guard, tasked with the unenviable task of securing and destroying evil artifacts.  Chris depicted Martook as a grizzled veteran and family man, on his last mission before retirement from the force.

However, when the group's mission went afoul and the PCs were accused of a series of murders which touched off a small-scale war, Martook and his compatriots had to flee to another plane.  Upon their return to the Prime Material, Martook received the following from his wife:

Dearest Martook— 

I don’t really know how to say this.  I’m going to do my best to not cry as I’m writing this, but I can feel myself already welling up. 

When you told me that you were being recruited to work in The Vaults, I didn't want you to go.  We had just started to raise our family.  We were only married two years when you started there, and Maximilian was only six months old.  But, I let you go, knowing you’d come back to me.  

When you were promoted to Field Agent, and you were sent to find these…things…I didn't protest.  That was last year, and Maria was just a bulge in my belly.   I let you go again, and I knew that you would come back to me. 

When you left to look for this Tear of Ioun, I didn't object.  Maria had just been born, and I was getting back on my feet.  Little Max was only 5, but he was helping around the house as much as he could.  The neighbors helped out, too.  I let you go one more time, knowing you’d come back to me. 

And now?  I have Cathedral Agents at my door, telling me that you’re wanted for murder and treason.  I have Max asking me if Daddy is ever coming back, now that the King’s Men are waiting for him.  He asks me, “Mom, what did Daddy do wrong?  Why does the King hate him so much?”  I don’t have an answer for him.  Little Maria barely knows you.  She’s three now, and caught Gray Fever last winter.  She wheezes at night still, but the clerics of Erathis are confident she’ll recover sooner or later.  

I've been waiting for you most of my adult life.  We've been taken care of, thanks to the Cathedral, but that doesn't mean that we have everything we've ever wanted.  The kids want a father.  I can’t say I blame them.  I want a husband again. 

But now, with you being hunted…I just can’t wait anymore.  There’s been someone else, Martook.  You know him—Dengild Oathhammer, from across the street.  He helped fix our roof about a year ago, after a snowstorm and I asked him to stay for supper and then one thing led to the next and… 

I told myself I wouldn’t cry. 

I can’t even tell you what I want right now.  I've stopped things with Dengild, but my children—our children—need a father, and I need my husband.  I just can’t manage to let you go, the one time where it might matter. 

The kids and I are about to leave Blackfall for a while.  We’re going downriver, to a cottage my parents had east of Kasserine.  I gave this to the priestess Valandor, at the Cathedral, and she promised that she would get it to you.  I’m not sure how, because they say that Wellspring, the town you were at, is in ruins.  I hope it gets to you.  You deserve to know, at least. 

I’m sorry, Martook.  I really am.  Please forgive me. 

---Maleena

Obviously--just take a look at my picture up yonder!--I'm no scorned woman, much less one with two children to take care of and an illicit relationship with her next-door neighbor.  But, being able to write as such a character allows me three primary benefits.

Firstly, it allows me, as a GM, to immerse myself in my own world.  Did I know about Kasserine or any of the other characters in this letter, prior to writing it?  Absolutely not!  But, by including them, I can help flesh out my own world, building in people, places, and ideas that normally would never make an appearance.

Secondly, this provides me an opportunity to directly address a PC's background.  When our group was galavanting through the Shadowfell, it became hard to justify any expansion on Martook's relationship.  But, by including this vignette upon their return, I've not only shown that time has passed (in the fact that Martook's wife has moved on) and hooks him with a personalized side-quest:  make it back to Kasserine to make things right with his wife.

Finally, this allows my player, Chris II, the opportunity to expose the other players to Martook's own personality.  While we can see Martook's personality in the context of the group, there are aspects to his personality which would only emerge when in the presence of his personal friends and family.  Our identity, many philosophers have claimed, is mutable over time--who we are varies based on the course of our lives, the experiences we've had, and the memories we retain.  As such, our group experienced a side of Martook that they might never see otherwise...

While I don't use the character vignette often--maybe once or twice a campaign per character--it provides ample opportunities for both myself as a GM and as a player.  Plus, since it usually takes up less than a page, it's quick!  Try it!  You'll like it!

In Which The Warlock Has a Love-Hate Relationship...

It's been a while since I've done one of these, but I figured that it's about high time that I return to the RPG Blog Carnival.  This month's topic, hosted over at Nevermet Press, is "Things to Love, Things to Hate"--essentially, what do you (as a GM or as a player) look for in an RPG, an adventure, a system, etc.

So, take a gander at my personal perks and gripes when looking at games:

Perks:

• I love a game system that attempts to echo the genre being played. 
• My favorite part about Deadlands is the fact that the cards-based initiative, the use of poker-chips, and the dueling/gambling mechanics push the idea of the Wild West, "gamblin' man" action.  Similarly, with WEGS, the use of poker chips enforces the idea of an adventurer "gambling with their fate".  ICONS uses the FATE mechanics to emphasize in-character actions and Determination points to encourage over-the-top action and power stunting.  All of these mechanics are built to better emulate the genre of game being played, and do so admirably, filling holes that a generic system simply can't do.
• I love a game that facilitates ease (and speed) of play.
• While I can give or take "fiddly-bits," I run far too many convention games to rely on them regularly.  Maps, dungeon tiles, miniatures and the like take up far too much room for my taste, and often slow down the pace of a game.  This takes away from investigation and fast-paced action, as people fiddle with movement rules or cover mechanics. 
• I love an adventure with awesome set-piece locations.



The Warlock's favorite adventure!

• My favorite adventure of all time is the wacky, fun-house dungeon crawl known as "White Plume Mountain".  It's not a particularly well-written adventure, but my goodness, the locations!  A fight above a boiling mud pit, with swinging platforms suspended by chains from the ceiling?!  A semi-permeable bubble of water?!  An enchanted-freaking-water-slide?!  Sheer unadulterated awesome!  Without locations like this, the adventure would be nothing more than a fetch quest, but these put it way over the top.
• I love an adventure with multiple, conditional endings.
• One of the things I was happiest about when writing "Westbound on the San Juan Express" was the multiple scenarios that could unfold.  Depending on whom the posse supports, the PCs could end up in any of 6 potential end-game scenarios, none of which resulted in a TPK or any sort of "loss".  That's a rarity to find, but it makes for sheer, unadulterated awesome! 
• I love it my players have too many PCs they want to play.
• You know how I know when I've picked the right game to run?  When my Friday night group starts planning out characters over and over again, and have trouble deciding what they actually want to play.  Too much inspiration is never a bad thing!

Gripes:

• I hate when a game tries to do too much. 
• This was my biggest issue while reading through Lost Colony, the Deadlands sequel game.  While the system mechanics for Deadlands worked for the base game and for Hell on Earth, Lost Colony seemed to drop much of the horror of its predecessors in favor of introducing sci-fi colonial action.  Already a packed setting, it just did...well, too much.  Lack of support certainly didn't help it, but Lost Colony definitely felt like a game stretched too thin.
• I hate it when a game tries to reinvent the wheel...and gets run over by said wheel.
• Wild Talents was my biggest offender here.  I picked it up at Half Price Books, while doing research for Cold Steel Wardens.  The "width vs. height" mechanic used in the game was particularly innovative...but the game (and the NPCs within it) became so wrapped up in numerics and modifiers that the core game--a dystopian superheroes game--became utterly lost in a sea of numbers.  That's anti-fun in a nutshell.
• I hate it when an adventure stacks the deck.
• Ever have this happen to you in an adventure:  your heroes are fighting bandits in their own lair, which is full of nasty traps--caltrops, deadfalls, etc., none of which ever seem to affect them, even when you deliberately try to turn the tables?  That's a sure sign of poor adventure writing and inflexible gamemastery.  While occasionally such things make sense--fire elementals being immune to environmental hazards in a lava realm, for example--but under normal circumstances, there's no excuse for this poor design.
• I hate it when adventures "settle".



Warning!  King in Yellow ahead!

• There's a fine line between providing an adventure "suitable" to a genre's idiom and becoming utterly predictable.  Start hearing word about a strange play and a "yellow sign"?  Yeah, it's Hastur again.  While there might be investigation and conflict, it's simply a matter of going through the motions.  The drama, the challenge...it's gone.  Why bother?
•    I hate it when players don't give me anything to work with...then complain about it.
• GMing is hard work.  It's a lot of prep, and it's a lot of writing.  If I'm asking you, as a player, for a background, that means that I need your help in contributing to the world and to have an active investment in it.  It means that I want to engage you as both a player and a character.  And, when you reject that?  Yeah...that sends a pretty strong message that you don't really care about playing.

How about you guys?  Other thoughts?  Am I off-base?

In Which The Warlock Presents Sam Clemens...

With this year's Origins on the horizon, I've been feverishly trying to get everything in order for our games.  I've been checking items slowly off of my to-do list, but every time I seem to make some progress, more and more get added!  While I finished my preparations for my ICONS scenario--"The Near-Orbit Mass-Driver Blues", I have yet to touch SunnyVale Acres...primarily because El Willy needed me to do an additional run-through on the "Ultimate Dungeon Party" and because I took a day to apply for a part-time position with Green Ronin Publishing!

But, with things slowly falling into place, I wanted to make sure that I got to take a crack at this month's RPG Blog Carnival, hosted for this month at the Dungeon's Master blog.  This month's topic?  Gaming characters, inspired by real-life.  Well, whoo!  Deadlands has that one in (pardon the pun) spades!

As such, take a look at the star of my Origins scenario, the inimitable Samuel Clemens, better known to many as Mark Twain!

I wanted to reflect a version of Clemens that wasn't overpowered--someone who could hang with the PCs if he had to, but whose life definitely took him a different direction.  Clemens' focus on writing and politics show his strengths, but damned if he isn't just the luckiest bastard this side of the Mississippi! 

Samuel Clemens (Mark Twain)—Cantankerous Author                          XP:         40

Stats:

Strength:             d4                                                           Charisma:            +4

Agility:                  d6                                                           Grit:                       3

Vigor:                    d4                                                           Pace:                     5

Smarts:                 d10                                                         Parry:                    5

Spirit:                    d10                                                         Toughness:         5

Hindrances:

Big Mouth (Minor)

Habit—Drinking (Minor)

Elderly (Major)

Edges:

Luck

Improved Luck

Scholar (Writing and Politics)

Tough as Nails

Charismatic

Noble

Jack of all Trades

Skills:

Know: Writing—d10 (+2)

Know: Politics—d10 (+2)

Persuasion—d10 (+4)

Taunt—d8 (+4)

Streetwise—d8

Fighting—d4

Shooting—d6

Guts—d6

Notice—d6

Investigation—d4

Boating--d6

Swimming—d4

Key Gear:

Mint Julep

White Suit with Black Bolo Tie

Cigar

In Which The Warlock Swings on the Pendulum Once More...

Excitement, friends and neighbors!  My first draft of The Pendulum Method is done!  Sitting at 17,000 words, I'm really looking forward to see what comes of this.  With revisions set to begin--among my other massive slate of projects--this should really be impressive!

And, since this month's RPG Blogger's Carnival (May) deals with Mixing Genres, I figured there'd be no better way to celebrate than by posting a preview of the most dramatic type of Pendulum adventure:  that of Genre and Theme.  Enjoy this sneak preview of the introduction to Section IV:  Pendulum of Theme/Genre!

A Pendulum in Theme/Genre—Finding an Eternal Champion

Out of the three forms of Pendulum adventures, those of Theme or Genre may be the most difficult form to re-create and run.  Doing so requires an incredibly flexible GM, as well as a group that is willing to take on continual challenges both in the context of the game and around the table, as the game itself evolves and changes around them.

The premise behind a Genre-Pendulum adventure stems from an evolution of the Time/Setting-Pendulum concept, though also contains elements of a Character-Pendulum adventure.  It is this blending of ideas that makes a Genre-Pendulum adventure difficult for a GM to run, and difficult for a player to be fully invested in.  However, with a little practice, some quality GM skills, and an enthusiastic group of players, the Genre-Pendulum game can be one that your table will never forget!

In a Genre-Pendulum adventure, the GM changes not just the time period or setting of the adventure, but the entire genre of said adventure midway through.  This concept may be an ongoing conversion—one genre drifting inexorably into another—or in motions more similar to the Pendulum structure previously detailed.  However, in both cases the characters within that adventure also morph and change to reflect their surroundings—while the characters are fundamentally the same, their mechanical abilities and skills are altered to reflect the setting in which they take place.

One classic, if inadvertent, example of a Genre-Pendulum adventure comes from Chaosium’s Call of Cthulhu sourcebook, Strange Aeons II.   In it, the adventure “Time After Time” begins simply enough—the character portray members of an FBI raid on a New England cult house.  However, as the characters are overwhelmed by the cultists and die off, it becomes increasingly apparent that all is not what it seems.  The characters, in fact, were nothing more than memories projected into the past by mi-go scientists.  Naked, bereft of identity, and far from “home”, the characters must find some way to escape from the mi-go hive without alerting the creatures to their presence.

That’s one dramatic shift!  What started as a noir-era, 1950s investigation ends with a soul-crushing escape from a dystopian future nightmare!  That fundamental dramatic shift epitomizes Pendulum theory at its core—by asking players (and the GM!) to shift gears so abruptly, an emotional high is reached and tension is maximized.

However, the real genius of this adventure stemmed from its seamless transitioning.  The disconnect felt when the characters are suddenly wrenched from the 1950s into a totally different setting is palpable, yet the mechanics flow from the original character into their new body in a near-perfect manner. 

The greatest advantage found in a Genre-Pendulum game stems from its sheer diversity in scene and malleability.  Fred from the strictures of published campaign settings or even a single pseudo-historical period, the GM is free to create adventures the can truly span the entirety of time and space.  Games that previously seemed difficult or impossible—such as a replication of Michael Moorcock’s Multiverse, complete with Eternal Champion(s), or a game based on Zak Snyder’s film Sucker Punch—now become feasible, even alluring.

One major difference between Genre-Pendulum adventures and its Pendulum-predecessors typically falls in scope.  Where it can be easy to finish a Setting or Character-Pendulum adventure in a single sitting—typically a 4 hour convention slot, or a single night of gaming with friends—Genre-Pendulum adventures tend to take significantly longer, and can even serve as the basis of an ongoing mini-campaign.  The dramatic shifts within a Genre-Pendulum adventure can be so drastic, so encompassing, that multiple sessions are necessary simply to accommodate these changes. 

Mind you, that’s not a bad thing!  One of the biggest complaints from gamers is a dearth in variety.  Oftentimes, both players and GMs feel burnt-out after numerous sessions in the same setting, same genre.  A Genre-Pendulum adventure addresses this problem head-on, providing numerous degrees and opportunities for both change and variety.  In addition, in the style of Moorcock’s aforementioned Eternal Champion, a Genre-Pendulum series of adventures offers different and unique looks at the same character, as each iteration of a given character, NPC, or locale provides a different perspective on what is fundamentally the same idea.

In Which The Warlock Evolves His Topography...

(Note:  This entry is part of this month's RPG Blog Carnival.  This month's host is A Character for Every Game.  Go check them out!)

I find myself in something of a conflict.  Quite a few entries ago, I found myself straddling a bit of the 'rules-lite/rules-heavy' fence, in the various games that I personally enjoy.  I've been enjoying 4e D&D, despite never investing in minis or battlemaps prior to this edition.  I'd never needed to, truth be told.  My prior 2e and 3/3.5e games all worked quite well with just free-form gaming.

But, therein lies the rub, friends and neighbors.  You see, I can't draw for the life of me. 

Now, for most of my games, this isn't a problem.  In my experience, if you're asking to use a tactical battlemap when playing Call of Cthulhu or even Stargate SG-1, you're doing it wrong.  The games are just meant to focus more on problem-solving and character interactions rather than shifting two squares diagonally and unleashing a Radiant Ultimate Smite with your +4 P90.  Same with ICONS, with its rules-light approach.  When powers are abstracted as much as they are in ICONS, there's no reason to whip out a full map.

But...then there's WEGS.  Ah, WEGS.  My old-school indie love.  WEGS borders on tactical minis game, with its focus on "clearing the battlemat" and earning that elusive Rank Bump.  But, coupled with that, WEGS exhibits a unique tendency:  the idea of the "empty" battlemat.

You see, in all of the WEGS games I've managed to both run and play, I very rarely put forward an actual "finite" map.  Rather, the map usually consists of found items, and terrain that comes randomly.  Take a look below...

Map from "Dungeons OR Dragons" at Champion City ComicCon 2010

I didn't have to plan this map.  It really doesn't even make sense to, all told.  Rather, I improvised.  With a good set of markers, my old HeroQuest terrain, and a selection of WotC's Dungeon Tiles, it's not hard to slap down a few things that "belong" in the area and go from there.

For the above map, I figured that a dragon would probably have at least a few things of "normal" size around, particularly if it liked to mess with magic.  As such, I tossed down the HeroQuest altar, with a chest nearby, and a cabinet, the alchemist's bench, and a table nearby for magical "experimentation".

As for terrain, rubble makes sense, if a dragon is landing and taking off regularly.  And the blast, near the top of the map?  Well, a breath weapon does leave marks!

At this point, you're probably wondering, "well, what's the point?"  Well...that is the point.  There's isn't one.  For as good of maps that we can find, for as much internet scouring as we do, we don't always need all of the accoutrement!  The best maps, the most utilitarian and functional gaming aids, often come from necessity.

All told, just use the tools you have at hand.  The variations you can come up with will speak for themselves!

Has anyone else ever experimented with "found" or impromptu mapping?  Let us know how it turned out!

In Which The Warlock Mourns the Death of a Plane...

One of the neater things that I'd come across in a while--and still wouldn't have even known about it, if not for the much more tech-savvy DigitalKat--is the premise behind the RPG Blog Carnival, whose archive is hosted at NeverMet Press.  Essentially, it provides a monthly theme for gaming blogs, as well as an opportunity for bloggers to read one anothers' posts and see some new perspectives.  Well, sparky; sign me up! 

The boneyard grows...

This month's theme is "Life and Death in RPGs," which couldn't be more fitting after last night's session.

I'm of two minds in terms of character death in games.  While it can be frustrating, even painful, to see one's character wiped out, that threat of death continually has to exist, in order to provide challenge and consequence for players.  But, simultaneously, a character death must have meaning.  One of the biggest mistakes I've made over the years is allowing my "let the dice fall where they may" attitude superscede the narrative necessity of having main characters.  Really, it's also why my players refuse to get into any car in one of my games...but that's another story.

But in terms of ChaoticFrederick's ongoing Dark Sun game, I've been expecting death.  My character, Actorios, was built to experience and play through a "tragic downfall", as he replicates (in his own, DS-filtered way) the path of Michael Moorcock's Elric of Melnibone.  To be honest, I've expected Actorios to die.  His lust for power, his constant manipulation of rival factions, and the wake of enemies left behind him will inevitably catch up with him at some point.  I've accepted this.  I've even started planning my next character...which I'll divulge a little later.  Needless to say, it's going to capitalize more than a little on Actorios' pathos.

But, what I wasn't ready for was the actuall fall itself.  You see, friends and neighbors, I was able to prepare for the death of Actorios, even though it hasn't come. 

What I haven't been able to prepare for, was the death of his entire homeland.

Cast out into Athas and exiled, in response for crimes against his kind.  Actorios as a character is embittered.  He wants desperately to be the "hero" he was destined to become while Crown Prince, but hates his own race and their shortsightedness.  Mind you, it's actually Actorios being shortsighted...he just is so arrogant that he'd never admit his wrong. 

So, when the opportunity arose to bring water to Athas, in the form of a massive sea, Actorios leapt onto the quest.  But the sacrifices that must be made?  The actual Feywild must die.  Yes.  Not just an individual, a city, or even a nation.  An entire plane must die, to bring water to Athas.  The Land Between the Winds must be defiled, in its entirety, using a series of spellshards created by Andropinis, Sorcerer-King of Balic.

The fall of Theleb Orethia...

As the plan unfolded, I saw Actorios as a willing, excited participant.  A chance to be a true hero?! A chance to redeem himself, and make the Tyr region itself into a new Feywild?! Absolutely!  But, with our last session, all that's changed.

You see, friends and neighbors, our last session completed this arc of our quest.  Our characters traveled to the last location of the Feywild, and defiled it away.  Theleb Orethia--Actorios' home kingdom--is nothing but ash now...because of him. 

This has really represented a turning point for how I've been playing this character.  For the first time, Actorios has begun to wonder "Was the price of power, of heroism, actually worth this price?"  Mind you, it's all moot point now.  All that remains of Theleb Orethia, New Samarthia, and the rest of the Lands Between the Winds now resides as pure arcane energy in the spellshards of Andropinis. 

Was it worth it, Actorios?

I came away from the table last night visibly sad.  Chaotic Frederick actually asked me if I was all right.  I was, of course, primarily because I had done my job too well.  Tragedy is even more beautiful and terrible from the inside-out. 

Death, on this scale, is never just a plot point.  Rather, it has to have emotional resonance, with both the characters and the players.  This should be what happens when Green Lantern fails to save Coast City.  This should be what happens when The Laundry fails in its mission to prevent CASE NIGHTMARE GREEN.  This...is depth, is realism, and is necessary for truth in storytelling.  And no one--GM, player or character--should immune.