I know everyone's schedules are not quite coordinating, but I'm sure we should be able to squirrel away a few hours sometime soon to play games.
What do ya say, gang?
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
I've never been so happy to see Cody at his computer
My copy of Assassin's Creed 2 came in the mail today, but that's not important.
What is important is Cody clicking one of the clickiest clicks ever.
Kyle, my friend, he's been playing Diablo II.
What is important is Cody clicking one of the clickiest clicks ever.
Kyle, my friend, he's been playing Diablo II.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
So then
Now that we've developed our characters, I figure it'd help for the game, whenever it is we do it, that we establish some characterizations and descriptions for the various organizations you'll be dealing with. I'll be throwing in some character-specific information in here as well, noted by an asterisk.*
The Jackdaws
This band of cutthroats formed under one idea: "Doesn't matter who, someone's gonna need something done." Under this mantra of sorts, the Jackdaws have carved a reputation in the criminal underworld of Suzail as a group that will take any job, for a sum. It doesn't matter who the client is, who or what the target is, or how it's got to be done, as long as the Jackdaws profit for the effort. They work as a collection, a single organ of wild abandon created from the best and oddest criminal characters, employing anyone sufficiently capable and willing to work for the Jacks. The entire group has developed sufficient trust in one another that, even if only one Jack was present at a deal, everyone is considered to have agreed with whatever he said.
Among the Jacks present at the beginning of the night are Moriarty "Harlequin" Jones, court painter to the Duke of Faustinian and a murderous sociopath. Harlequin is an expert with knives, spells and jokes. He wears a cracked harlequin mask on his face and is weighted by a heavy leather wescot whenever he's on duty for the Jackdaws. Off duty, he can be seen either around his Suzail studio, where many of his incredible paintings hang, or frequenting the many local eateries with his friends, harassing waiters and provoking duels in a most undignified fashion.
Along with Harlequin is Lismuth Evening, a mage whose tribal customs requires him to wear almost no clothing except for a light shawl, thin, slim pants and sandals. All across his body are carved geometric scars, elemental etchings that help him perform his many feats of magic. Lismuth is reserved and infinitely spiteful. He had wished to find employment five years ago in Suzail as a diviner or water weaver or fire keeper or whatever the hell he could find but no, the city didn't need his services. Nowadays, all his magic is good for is killing, and oh does he love to kill. Until meeting the Jackdaws, he'd never taken a life with his magic, but after his first hit he began to realize how he might earn a living using his skills in such a way. He keeps to himself most of the time, but is very much willing to talk someone's ear off or criticize them in the most horrid of fashions.
The Host of Suzail
Suzail's main government is made up of the merchant councils and trader's unions, and the three families with the most power among those who dwell in the city of bridges are called the Host. They protect and manage the infrastructure, making sure Suzail stays a free city. They are the Pisano, the Haucher, and the Gratsens.
The Pisano are primarily cultured merchants, headed by Nicholas Pisano. The Pisano own much of the wilderness surrounding Suzail, making them the family to talk to for lumber, various foodstuffs and game. They also hire their own private military force to patrol the areas around Suzail, at once protecting the city and their property. Due to their presence in the wilderness, the Pisano family has grown to use exotic and sometimes magical beasts to for transportation, to serve as livestock, and even as pets. Nicholas Pisano is known to keep a clutch of wyvern eggs in his stable, hoping that one day they'll hatch to serve him.
The Haucher clan is a family of shipwrights and sailors who settled in Suzail, seeing that as the Pepper river runs right through it into the 11,500 square mile Great Lake. They make their home at the base of the cliffs, near the great lake that supplies Suzail with its fish and various aquatic wares. The Haucher have monopolized the import and export trade of Suzail, making them the most powerful merchant family for miles around. Suzail's waters are made never to freeze by the Haucher clan's powerful water magi, spellcasters who also help direct the winds for their vessels and summon storms to batter any competition under the azure blanket of the lake.
The Gratsens are less economically powerful than the other two Host families, but they are the most militarily powerful. The Gratsens were the original founders of Suzail, and although they've lost complete control over the many decades, they are steadfast in their devotion to its citizens. Gratsen soldiers are the ones that form the backbone of Suzail's protective shield against invasion and monsters. Johann Gratsen is renowned for his heroic slaying of the very wyvern that Nicholas Pisano stole eggs from, earning Pisano's gratitude and the city's admiration. He is a formidable man, who serves his family's interests directly in any decisions he must make with the other families. He is tireless in his efforts to keep his city safe, tending every day to drilling the ranks of his guardian force and pruning its ranks of weak or incompetent men.
The Jackdaws
This band of cutthroats formed under one idea: "Doesn't matter who, someone's gonna need something done." Under this mantra of sorts, the Jackdaws have carved a reputation in the criminal underworld of Suzail as a group that will take any job, for a sum. It doesn't matter who the client is, who or what the target is, or how it's got to be done, as long as the Jackdaws profit for the effort. They work as a collection, a single organ of wild abandon created from the best and oddest criminal characters, employing anyone sufficiently capable and willing to work for the Jacks. The entire group has developed sufficient trust in one another that, even if only one Jack was present at a deal, everyone is considered to have agreed with whatever he said.
Among the Jacks present at the beginning of the night are Moriarty "Harlequin" Jones, court painter to the Duke of Faustinian and a murderous sociopath. Harlequin is an expert with knives, spells and jokes. He wears a cracked harlequin mask on his face and is weighted by a heavy leather wescot whenever he's on duty for the Jackdaws. Off duty, he can be seen either around his Suzail studio, where many of his incredible paintings hang, or frequenting the many local eateries with his friends, harassing waiters and provoking duels in a most undignified fashion.
Along with Harlequin is Lismuth Evening, a mage whose tribal customs requires him to wear almost no clothing except for a light shawl, thin, slim pants and sandals. All across his body are carved geometric scars, elemental etchings that help him perform his many feats of magic. Lismuth is reserved and infinitely spiteful. He had wished to find employment five years ago in Suzail as a diviner or water weaver or fire keeper or whatever the hell he could find but no, the city didn't need his services. Nowadays, all his magic is good for is killing, and oh does he love to kill. Until meeting the Jackdaws, he'd never taken a life with his magic, but after his first hit he began to realize how he might earn a living using his skills in such a way. He keeps to himself most of the time, but is very much willing to talk someone's ear off or criticize them in the most horrid of fashions.
The Host of Suzail
Suzail's main government is made up of the merchant councils and trader's unions, and the three families with the most power among those who dwell in the city of bridges are called the Host. They protect and manage the infrastructure, making sure Suzail stays a free city. They are the Pisano, the Haucher, and the Gratsens.
The Pisano are primarily cultured merchants, headed by Nicholas Pisano. The Pisano own much of the wilderness surrounding Suzail, making them the family to talk to for lumber, various foodstuffs and game. They also hire their own private military force to patrol the areas around Suzail, at once protecting the city and their property. Due to their presence in the wilderness, the Pisano family has grown to use exotic and sometimes magical beasts to for transportation, to serve as livestock, and even as pets. Nicholas Pisano is known to keep a clutch of wyvern eggs in his stable, hoping that one day they'll hatch to serve him.
The Haucher clan is a family of shipwrights and sailors who settled in Suzail, seeing that as the Pepper river runs right through it into the 11,500 square mile Great Lake. They make their home at the base of the cliffs, near the great lake that supplies Suzail with its fish and various aquatic wares. The Haucher have monopolized the import and export trade of Suzail, making them the most powerful merchant family for miles around. Suzail's waters are made never to freeze by the Haucher clan's powerful water magi, spellcasters who also help direct the winds for their vessels and summon storms to batter any competition under the azure blanket of the lake.
The Gratsens are less economically powerful than the other two Host families, but they are the most militarily powerful. The Gratsens were the original founders of Suzail, and although they've lost complete control over the many decades, they are steadfast in their devotion to its citizens. Gratsen soldiers are the ones that form the backbone of Suzail's protective shield against invasion and monsters. Johann Gratsen is renowned for his heroic slaying of the very wyvern that Nicholas Pisano stole eggs from, earning Pisano's gratitude and the city's admiration. He is a formidable man, who serves his family's interests directly in any decisions he must make with the other families. He is tireless in his efforts to keep his city safe, tending every day to drilling the ranks of his guardian force and pruning its ranks of weak or incompetent men.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Shameless Self-promotion
Hey, kids! Are your friends spread thin like never before? Wish there were a way to keep up with your buddy's exploits without the trouble of having to deal with his stupid face? Well here you are!
Link
TL,DR: Alex has a blog. Deal with it.
Link
TL,DR: Alex has a blog. Deal with it.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Hah Christ...
So after a blowout in our living room and a week and a half of waiting for a part to repair my almost-decrepit tower, I am now finally coming back swingin'.
Wanna get some games going on the weekend?
Wanna get some games going on the weekend?
Friday, August 7, 2009
Friday, July 24, 2009
Soapbox
Alright fellows, time for business. We should arrive at a time and date for commencing such revelry as we are so inclined to indulge. Perhaps some time after the highest sun on the only day named for a Roman god?
We must observe some enthusiasm for scheduling and punctuality, lest we allow ourselves another week without merriment and festivity.
We must observe some enthusiasm for scheduling and punctuality, lest we allow ourselves another week without merriment and festivity.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Running in the Shadows - Things to consider
So while not the best solution, using the pre-generated character archetypes has allowed us to circumvent one the game's more arduous (though fun) processes. And just as I will become more comfortable running a Shadowrun game, becoming more reflexive about certain operations, so too will you become more familiar with yourselves as your character. There may come a time (probably soon) that as we explore the setting and its many idiosyncrasies, we might want to reconsider some character traits and their mechanical build. And that's fine; I have no qualms one way or another if you want to rework your dude to something more your speed, in fact I encourage it in all of the games I run.
It helps, obviously, if your new interpretation of the character is somewhat reminiscent of the old one. It's fine if your guy who was a gun-toting cyber-mercenary and social vampire (who is trying to find his friend's actual, meaty brain) is now a gun-enthusiast and avid sci-fi fan (who is just looking for something to do when there's nothing good on the Tridnet.) It's not quite as fine is that same mercenary suddenly becomes a Psychic animal-wrangler (who is out to topple the corrupted social network of the 2070s.) Still, I'd consider myself a very accommodating sort, and it's actually not that big of a deal to me if you decide to completely reinvent your character between sessions. You'll be breaking the story over your knee and instantly destroying any definitions the party might have made toward their roles, but that's your beef, not mine.
Anyway, enough of that. Let's just look at some things that you, "the player," can consider for you, "your character.:
Metahumanity and Social Schemes
In Shadowrun, there seriously are fucking dragons who ride limos who laugh all the way to the bank because they just strong-armed their corporate competition into a merger. That's a weird picture, to be sure, but in the 2070s it's not that uprising and actually kind of "meh." The U.C.A.S actually had a Dragon president for about 10 hours, Dunkelzhan, the very same dragon who educated and enlightened the newly Awakened humanity during his 12-hour interview on January 12, 2012. He was killed (more specifically, committing suicide, but the reasons why don't need to be explored right now) just after his inauguration in 2061.
Irrespective of dragons, there are now wholly strange social paradigms emerging or solidifying due to the fact that, after the Awakening in 2012, some children born exhibited startling and downright weird traits. This is deemed the Unexplained Genetic Expression, or UGE, and its effects are what give us the option of Running as Elves, Dwarves, Orks, and their many delineations. I won't get into all of the many different schema that came about because of this, mostly because there's too much and most of it's outlined in the book.
At the same time, the rise of the Megacorporations and the Matrix seriously changed the way that people lived and worked. Consider: There exist a finite number of almost impossibly powerful corporations that run literally everything that matters. There are no longer any governments that can legitimately say they work for the people, because they actually work for a Corp now. Yeah, there are some pre-corporate and even pre-industrial places still left on the Earth, but no one goes there because there are some friggin' powerful and/or malevolent Spirits who run the show there and want none of what you're selling. In Seattle, where a majority of games are run, pretty much every thing can be observed to have been influenced by the 'Corps' presence. The city doesn't have a standing police force, it has contracted mercenary groups whose job is to keep shifty-looking slots out of important or important-looking places. There have been actual, literal wars broken out because two rival Corps want significant market share in a given area. (Example, the Cola Wars in southeast Asia.) In 2070, people don't get loans from a bank. They get assurance of a job at a Corp, with an advance on their wages. Then, they have to work off the principal amount plus interest at barest minimum salary, essentially becoming slaves to the Corp because they still owe money, which equals work. There are innumerable examples of how strange, and incredibly interesting the world has become in 2070 of the Shadowrun Earth, and it's actually worth it to just read the sourcebooks for the sheer entertainment.
Regardless, it's a good idea to consider how your Runner perceives metahumanity and the new social paradigm.
Magic and the Awakening
Filler.
The Matrix and You
Filler.
If you want more info just go to the damn Sixth World wiki. They give some concise definitions of terms and brief tidbits about some events; pretty good for gaining a cursory idea about what to expect.
It helps, obviously, if your new interpretation of the character is somewhat reminiscent of the old one. It's fine if your guy who was a gun-toting cyber-mercenary and social vampire (who is trying to find his friend's actual, meaty brain) is now a gun-enthusiast and avid sci-fi fan (who is just looking for something to do when there's nothing good on the Tridnet.) It's not quite as fine is that same mercenary suddenly becomes a Psychic animal-wrangler (who is out to topple the corrupted social network of the 2070s.) Still, I'd consider myself a very accommodating sort, and it's actually not that big of a deal to me if you decide to completely reinvent your character between sessions. You'll be breaking the story over your knee and instantly destroying any definitions the party might have made toward their roles, but that's your beef, not mine.
Anyway, enough of that. Let's just look at some things that you, "the player," can consider for you, "your character.:
Metahumanity and Social Schemes
In Shadowrun, there seriously are fucking dragons who ride limos who laugh all the way to the bank because they just strong-armed their corporate competition into a merger. That's a weird picture, to be sure, but in the 2070s it's not that uprising and actually kind of "meh." The U.C.A.S actually had a Dragon president for about 10 hours, Dunkelzhan, the very same dragon who educated and enlightened the newly Awakened humanity during his 12-hour interview on January 12, 2012. He was killed (more specifically, committing suicide, but the reasons why don't need to be explored right now) just after his inauguration in 2061.
Irrespective of dragons, there are now wholly strange social paradigms emerging or solidifying due to the fact that, after the Awakening in 2012, some children born exhibited startling and downright weird traits. This is deemed the Unexplained Genetic Expression, or UGE, and its effects are what give us the option of Running as Elves, Dwarves, Orks, and their many delineations. I won't get into all of the many different schema that came about because of this, mostly because there's too much and most of it's outlined in the book.
At the same time, the rise of the Megacorporations and the Matrix seriously changed the way that people lived and worked. Consider: There exist a finite number of almost impossibly powerful corporations that run literally everything that matters. There are no longer any governments that can legitimately say they work for the people, because they actually work for a Corp now. Yeah, there are some pre-corporate and even pre-industrial places still left on the Earth, but no one goes there because there are some friggin' powerful and/or malevolent Spirits who run the show there and want none of what you're selling. In Seattle, where a majority of games are run, pretty much every thing can be observed to have been influenced by the 'Corps' presence. The city doesn't have a standing police force, it has contracted mercenary groups whose job is to keep shifty-looking slots out of important or important-looking places. There have been actual, literal wars broken out because two rival Corps want significant market share in a given area. (Example, the Cola Wars in southeast Asia.) In 2070, people don't get loans from a bank. They get assurance of a job at a Corp, with an advance on their wages. Then, they have to work off the principal amount plus interest at barest minimum salary, essentially becoming slaves to the Corp because they still owe money, which equals work. There are innumerable examples of how strange, and incredibly interesting the world has become in 2070 of the Shadowrun Earth, and it's actually worth it to just read the sourcebooks for the sheer entertainment.
Regardless, it's a good idea to consider how your Runner perceives metahumanity and the new social paradigm.
Magic and the Awakening
Filler.
The Matrix and You
Filler.
If you want more info just go to the damn Sixth World wiki. They give some concise definitions of terms and brief tidbits about some events; pretty good for gaining a cursory idea about what to expect.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Tag.
For your consideration: The Tag System.
It's still a draft, but there it is. Now all that's left is to write the powers. Want to help?
It's still a draft, but there it is. Now all that's left is to write the powers. Want to help?
Sunday, June 7, 2009
A long time ago in a galaxy etc. etc.
I'll just leave this here.
Setting: The Dark Times, at about roughly 2 years before the Battle of Yavin. The Empire under Emperor Palpatine is at its strongest, and his feared second-in-command, Lord Darth Vader, ensures that resistance is quickly and efficiently stamped out. The Rebel Alliance is just beginning to take shape under the leadership of Mon Mothma, Bail Organa, and Garm Bel Iblis. Force-users are few and far between and the concept of a Jedi Knight has been relegated to the stuff of folktales and legends.
Jedi - Defenders of peace and justice in the civilized galaxy for centuries. Until the Dark Times, when the Emperor hunted down and destroyed the Jedi Knights. However, they say a light burns brightest when within the darkness and it would be impossible to hunt down every Force-sensitive sentient within the galaxy. Examples of the Jedi class include Bastila Shan, Quinlan Vos, Anakin Skywalker, and Jax Pavan.
Noble - Shrewd characters who depend on their intelligence and natural charisma rather than on blaster bolts or vibroblades. A noble commands respect and influences others. Born leaders, they are well versed in rhetoric and organization, whether they are honest and noble or perhaps treacherous and sly. Examples of the Noble class include Princess Leia Organa, Talon Karrde, Mas Amedda, and Jabba the Hutt.
Scoundrel - The scum and villainy in the universe. They live on the fringe of society or even right in the heart of it, living by their wits and whatever credits they can scrape up. They're not above firing a concealed blaster, but if they can use their silver tongues to get by, they'll gladly sheathe the vibroblade. No sense in getting yourself hurt when there's credits to be made, right? Examples of the Scoundrel class include Han Solo, Cade Skywalker, Lando Calrissian, and Atton Rand.
Scout - Natural adventurers and explorers. They'll sign on when the credits are good and when they can make full use of their skills. The scout's instincts are to be trusted above all else. If the scout is running, chances are that you should be, too. They can survive in any environment, and have an affinity for bravely and confidently exploring the unknown. Examples of the Scout class include Chewbacca, Jarael, Captain Tarpals, and Jariah Syn
Soldier - Hired guns, noble champions, or cold-hearted killers. The soldier combines a natural discipline with martial skills to become a pure combatant. Whether they fight for glory, for credits, or for a cause they believe in, they see the dangerous adventures and military engagements as their jobs. Whatever their motivation, all soldiers live for the thrill of combat. Examples of the Soldier class include Wedge Antilles, Corran Horn, Kyle Katarn, and Captain Rex.
Starting Level - 4th
Starting Credits - 2000
Ability Scores - Roll 4d6, ignore lowest, reroll ones, gain two ability point increases for being 4th level
EDIT: Goddamn Blogger and your stupid stupid gay bullshit HTML assfuckery. Maybe you cunts should just let me make my goddamn post anyway I want. Everything should look decent now. Also I apologize for Wookiepedia having gigantic ads all over the site.
Setting: The Dark Times, at about roughly 2 years before the Battle of Yavin. The Empire under Emperor Palpatine is at its strongest, and his feared second-in-command, Lord Darth Vader, ensures that resistance is quickly and efficiently stamped out. The Rebel Alliance is just beginning to take shape under the leadership of Mon Mothma, Bail Organa, and Garm Bel Iblis. Force-users are few and far between and the concept of a Jedi Knight has been relegated to the stuff of folktales and legends.
Races:
Humans, Aleena, Aqualish, Arkanians, Balosar, Barabel, Blood Carvers, Bothans, Caamasi, Cathar, Cereans, Chagrians, Chiss, Clawdites, Codru-Ji, Draethos, Droids, Duros, Falleen, Feeorin, Gamorreans, Gand, Gran, Gungans, Houk, Ithorians, Kel Dor, Khil, Klatooinian, Miraluka, Mon Calamari, Nagai, Neimodians, Nosaurians, Quarren, Rodians, Ryn, Selkath, Snivvians, Sullustans, Talz, Togorians, Togruta, Toydarians, Trandoshans, Twi'leks, Ubese, Weequay, Whiphids, Wookiees, Wroonians, Yarkora, Zabrak, Zeltron
Classes:
Jedi - Defenders of peace and justice in the civilized galaxy for centuries. Until the Dark Times, when the Emperor hunted down and destroyed the Jedi Knights. However, they say a light burns brightest when within the darkness and it would be impossible to hunt down every Force-sensitive sentient within the galaxy. Examples of the Jedi class include Bastila Shan, Quinlan Vos, Anakin Skywalker, and Jax Pavan.
Noble - Shrewd characters who depend on their intelligence and natural charisma rather than on blaster bolts or vibroblades. A noble commands respect and influences others. Born leaders, they are well versed in rhetoric and organization, whether they are honest and noble or perhaps treacherous and sly. Examples of the Noble class include Princess Leia Organa, Talon Karrde, Mas Amedda, and Jabba the Hutt.
Scoundrel - The scum and villainy in the universe. They live on the fringe of society or even right in the heart of it, living by their wits and whatever credits they can scrape up. They're not above firing a concealed blaster, but if they can use their silver tongues to get by, they'll gladly sheathe the vibroblade. No sense in getting yourself hurt when there's credits to be made, right? Examples of the Scoundrel class include Han Solo, Cade Skywalker, Lando Calrissian, and Atton Rand.
Scout - Natural adventurers and explorers. They'll sign on when the credits are good and when they can make full use of their skills. The scout's instincts are to be trusted above all else. If the scout is running, chances are that you should be, too. They can survive in any environment, and have an affinity for bravely and confidently exploring the unknown. Examples of the Scout class include Chewbacca, Jarael, Captain Tarpals, and Jariah Syn
Soldier - Hired guns, noble champions, or cold-hearted killers. The soldier combines a natural discipline with martial skills to become a pure combatant. Whether they fight for glory, for credits, or for a cause they believe in, they see the dangerous adventures and military engagements as their jobs. Whatever their motivation, all soldiers live for the thrill of combat. Examples of the Soldier class include Wedge Antilles, Corran Horn, Kyle Katarn, and Captain Rex.
Starting Level - 4th
Starting Credits - 2000
Ability Scores - Roll 4d6, ignore lowest, reroll ones, gain two ability point increases for being 4th level
EDIT: Goddamn Blogger and your stupid stupid gay bullshit HTML assfuckery. Maybe you cunts should just let me make my goddamn post anyway I want. Everything should look decent now. Also I apologize for Wookiepedia having gigantic ads all over the site.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Soapbox
So we aren't able to play tomorrow; several of our troupe are scheduled to be indisposed for a time.
I'd like to get another day of games in, though. If you guys are able to do so on Saturday or Sunday, say so.
I'd like to get another day of games in, though. If you guys are able to do so on Saturday or Sunday, say so.
Monday, May 18, 2009
Campaign Recap - Strange Quarry
The three agents of the citadel had just before ended the short life of an abyssal hound, wrought from inky wet tendrils. A pool of black, oozing liquid silently seeps into the worked stone ground just outside the autopsy room they had investigated. Bogumil decides to stay in the autopsy room, to try to glean some new information from the rended corpse of a man on one of the stone slabs, and possibly speak with the ghosts of the place. Undamya and Bastion venture deeper into the dark, cold compound. After the lighting of a long torch, the space of the brickwork no longer shifts disorientingly, such hallucinations probably the effect of some illusion or an odorless gas leaked into the hallways.
The two spelunkers reach a fork in their path; ahead, a cylindrical shaft serving as the first of many catacombs. To the east, a cave-in hiding a secondary autopsy room and connecting natural exit. They venture down the macabre reverse tower, noting that many of the graves are empty, until the spiraling staircase terminates to a moist, algae covered floor. High above them, the ceiling has cracked from the seasons and many coiling roots piercing the vaulted halls, letting water seep in. At their feet, a small drain overflows by about half an inch, creating a puddle little over a foot across the sagging floor. Several barrels sit smelling thickly of formaldehyde and sawdust, stacked high in a small area. Directly across from them, a solitary dark doorway is flanked by a weakly lit torch. A lone candle illuminates the room beyond, casting its dim light across upturned benches, torn tapestries and a memorial alter. Two doors sit opposite one another on the eastern and western walls, one made of stone and the other of a thick, rotting wood practically falling off of the rusted metal hinges, respectively. A moldy carpet leads the eye to a large brass bowl on the alter, the wear of ages tarnishing the once brilliant metal.
Before creeping deeper into the crypts, they head back up the catacomb to investigate the room to the east. By some trick, one of the corpses has sprung to life once more. It makes no motion toward the two journeymen adventurers. Undamya fells it in a blow, letting its once again lifeless form fall to the floor. Turning once again to the cave-in, Bastion makes use of his unique ability to transport himself through materials, while Undamya must claw his way through the earthen mound of the collapsed tunnel. The room itself is simply a secondary autopsy or prepatory room, with a similar stone table as the one seen earlier. Bookshelves board the walls, lined with ancient texts bound in leather and hide. Only a few of the musty old tomes remain intact enough to be legible, the others long since deteriorated or torn apart. A low whisper of wind comes from a door beyond the limestone slab. Past the doorway is an unworked section of the caves, with a large hole in the ceiling casting a shining pillar into the middle of a frozen, foot-deep pond. Animal tracks can be seen coming from a mound of snow climbing to the natural exit, and the pair of adventures surmise that some wolves, bears or something similar must make its home here. After a cursory investigation and subsequent procurement of the texts in the room before, they head back down.
Past the western doorway lies a room filled with empty wooden caskets and a slab of limestone carved out of the earth for preparing corpses for funerary services. One of the caskets conceals a cadaver, wrapped in lordly vestments and lain with few possessions. The eastern doorway leads further into the catacombs. The next room has a gaping hole opened in the eastern wall, dug out from the brick by gnarled hands, it seems. A group of three filthy cots are lined up along the wall, in the place of several sarcophagi, the stone residences turned to rubble and strewn about the room by some unknown means. A stone doorway, mightily brushed ajar by Bastion, reveals a short hallway leading to a magnificent statue of a seated king with a blade laid cross his lap. The hallway splits to the north and south, with two fiery braziers to light the halls. The two men walk past several undisturbed sarcophagi in the middle of the halls and set into the walls, faced with beautiful reliefs of their inhabitants. They turn a corner, and spy a pair of stitched, horrific undead. These sentries of an unknown master cry out in a terrible cacophony, shaking the catacombs and unsettling thin rivers of dust. Bastion and Undamya set upon these screaming monstrosities, freezing them and lighting them ablaze.
After the short battle, a man looking to be in his middle-ages comes up from a wide, dark stair to wonder what all the fuss is about. [Editor: Embarrassing question: what did I say his name was? I lost my notes.] Bastion and Undamya press him for answers to various questions, and he reveals that he is the lone operator of an undead-fueled mining operation, using the bodies of long-dead lords and kings, in search of precious gems buried beneath the Citadel. This is an unconvincing lie, yet he remains unyielding when pressed on the matter. To keep his operation hidden from the Autarch and the ruler's aides, he offers payment of a sum of silver Stags, and a handful of rough, uncut gemstones. Our party accepts after some deliberation and pointed questions.
We make our way back to the Citadel, coin in hand and plans to reveal everything to the Autarch. The motionless ruler suggests one simple solution for keeping the excavator's undead from attacking anyone again; bury him and his horde.
___
Think about a new spell for your characters. When we play again, I can work with you guys on the mechanics. If you want suggestions or examples, I'd be happy to oblige.
The two spelunkers reach a fork in their path; ahead, a cylindrical shaft serving as the first of many catacombs. To the east, a cave-in hiding a secondary autopsy room and connecting natural exit. They venture down the macabre reverse tower, noting that many of the graves are empty, until the spiraling staircase terminates to a moist, algae covered floor. High above them, the ceiling has cracked from the seasons and many coiling roots piercing the vaulted halls, letting water seep in. At their feet, a small drain overflows by about half an inch, creating a puddle little over a foot across the sagging floor. Several barrels sit smelling thickly of formaldehyde and sawdust, stacked high in a small area. Directly across from them, a solitary dark doorway is flanked by a weakly lit torch. A lone candle illuminates the room beyond, casting its dim light across upturned benches, torn tapestries and a memorial alter. Two doors sit opposite one another on the eastern and western walls, one made of stone and the other of a thick, rotting wood practically falling off of the rusted metal hinges, respectively. A moldy carpet leads the eye to a large brass bowl on the alter, the wear of ages tarnishing the once brilliant metal.
Before creeping deeper into the crypts, they head back up the catacomb to investigate the room to the east. By some trick, one of the corpses has sprung to life once more. It makes no motion toward the two journeymen adventurers. Undamya fells it in a blow, letting its once again lifeless form fall to the floor. Turning once again to the cave-in, Bastion makes use of his unique ability to transport himself through materials, while Undamya must claw his way through the earthen mound of the collapsed tunnel. The room itself is simply a secondary autopsy or prepatory room, with a similar stone table as the one seen earlier. Bookshelves board the walls, lined with ancient texts bound in leather and hide. Only a few of the musty old tomes remain intact enough to be legible, the others long since deteriorated or torn apart. A low whisper of wind comes from a door beyond the limestone slab. Past the doorway is an unworked section of the caves, with a large hole in the ceiling casting a shining pillar into the middle of a frozen, foot-deep pond. Animal tracks can be seen coming from a mound of snow climbing to the natural exit, and the pair of adventures surmise that some wolves, bears or something similar must make its home here. After a cursory investigation and subsequent procurement of the texts in the room before, they head back down.
Past the western doorway lies a room filled with empty wooden caskets and a slab of limestone carved out of the earth for preparing corpses for funerary services. One of the caskets conceals a cadaver, wrapped in lordly vestments and lain with few possessions. The eastern doorway leads further into the catacombs. The next room has a gaping hole opened in the eastern wall, dug out from the brick by gnarled hands, it seems. A group of three filthy cots are lined up along the wall, in the place of several sarcophagi, the stone residences turned to rubble and strewn about the room by some unknown means. A stone doorway, mightily brushed ajar by Bastion, reveals a short hallway leading to a magnificent statue of a seated king with a blade laid cross his lap. The hallway splits to the north and south, with two fiery braziers to light the halls. The two men walk past several undisturbed sarcophagi in the middle of the halls and set into the walls, faced with beautiful reliefs of their inhabitants. They turn a corner, and spy a pair of stitched, horrific undead. These sentries of an unknown master cry out in a terrible cacophony, shaking the catacombs and unsettling thin rivers of dust. Bastion and Undamya set upon these screaming monstrosities, freezing them and lighting them ablaze.
After the short battle, a man looking to be in his middle-ages comes up from a wide, dark stair to wonder what all the fuss is about. [Editor: Embarrassing question: what did I say his name was? I lost my notes.] Bastion and Undamya press him for answers to various questions, and he reveals that he is the lone operator of an undead-fueled mining operation, using the bodies of long-dead lords and kings, in search of precious gems buried beneath the Citadel. This is an unconvincing lie, yet he remains unyielding when pressed on the matter. To keep his operation hidden from the Autarch and the ruler's aides, he offers payment of a sum of silver Stags, and a handful of rough, uncut gemstones. Our party accepts after some deliberation and pointed questions.
We make our way back to the Citadel, coin in hand and plans to reveal everything to the Autarch. The motionless ruler suggests one simple solution for keeping the excavator's undead from attacking anyone again; bury him and his horde.
___
Think about a new spell for your characters. When we play again, I can work with you guys on the mechanics. If you want suggestions or examples, I'd be happy to oblige.
Friday, May 8, 2009
Setting Focus - Undead
It might be a bit before our next game session; let me know whenever you guys are free. Until then, I'll try to give out some more information about the setting, specifically concerning the undead. You can skip to the bolded parts for the actual information. (Excuse any typos. There really isn't an excuse, but my keyboard is in an awkward position, making for a lot of backtracking and missed mistakes.)
From a heavily bound tome found deep within a long-forgotten library:
"A long time ago, when age had not taken my strength and swiftness, I was of mind to foolishly venture into the wildernesses, into the earth and over waters in search of various creatures of such terror and malice I might prove my courage by felling them. I gathered many trophies and many scars in such days, too many to count, and when time came that I wished to cease my brazen hunts I bought my place in my King's court with tales of bravery and the skull of a great wyvern, being granted lordship of the Black Tower. It was more reward than a hunter as myself could ask for, but as time went on I realised why I was given possession of the lonely halls. In my time as master of that mountain keep, I was tested by a greater threat than any wyvern or bog lurk.
It began with the murder of the stableboy, Miloch. We found him twisted and maimed among the muck and hay, suspecting a rabid wolf or monstrous thing from the mountains. It wasn't until the baker and his wife were found dead, with a third, unknown body amongst their broken home, that my squire and I began suspecting something more sinister.
We'd seen these kinds of wounds once before, in the ruined township of Jarod's Landing. It had been victim to a plague of undeath, infesting the land with ghosts and walking bones. It was something of a terror to walk into that fog-ridden, dead village; a place where naught a sound could be heard but the baying of black hounds in the distance and the howl of the wind. Not even the scavengers of the forest set foot or wing toward the stead.
All of the bodies began to rise as we came near, drawn to the warmth of our life blood. We had eight in our party of hunters then, and by the time we rid the town of the Restless we were cut down to three. The nights were never quiet, even in the homes we barred to keep the dead out.
Since then, I became aware of the signs, of the makings of undeath. Something about the town and my Keep had poisoned the land beneath it. When we investigated the Lonely Spire at the top of my mountain home, we discovered scores of Restless locked in a long-forgotten crypt. They were the ancestors of the family that had once ruled the Black Tower, forever cursed to rise once more after death. What we found upon further searching of the musty graves chills my bones still. In the depths of the Black Tower, the crypt connected by a series of water-filled chambers, and there were more of the walking dead than I had ever seen, driven back to life by our presence. In the throngs of undead, there were several of a variety I had never witnessed, with glowing eyes and black boils covering their dry, leathery skin. In time, we encountered the first Lord of the Tower.
His was not the undeath of the others, indeed he was fully aware of his actions, and spoke in a long-dead tongue of mountain lords. But madness had taken him, being surrounded by the ghosts and spirits of his own ancestors and descendants for so many years of torment. His chest was burst open, with a great glowing fire where his heart had been. His very soul was burning out of his body, and he screamed with a pain greater than any he had felt in life. We could not send him to the grave a second time, so we struggled to make our escape. Again, only three of us would see the light of the sun again.
I saw good men die in those days of our delving, only to come back to meet our blades. The experience has haunted me ever since, such that I have not slept through the night once in the time past. In my dreams I am hounded by the ghosts of my men, and by those who we met with steel in those dark times. I know that, when my time is come, I will join them in angered undeath. I pray only that my end is far off..."
The Restless
The restless is a catch-all term for the undead, as often times through sorcery or a trick of nature the bodies of the dead will rise up for a new (often short) life. The process of forcing corpses to move again is known by a few secret orders, but full reanimation is still outside of the meddling of magic. Often times, a "zombie" is simply a carcass that has been pumped full of elemental magic, with mana replacing blood, oxygen, and food as its sustaining force. Skeletons are created by a similar process, with their bones held together by thin tendrils of magic like pins. Ghosts are the souls of the dead left with imprints of a powerful will or a mere thought of someone who died in an area saturated with natural magic. The area has to be of a particularly high concentration of magic, otherwise it is lacking the essential force that allows the ghost to keep itself together. Variations of undead such as the Bone Lantern or Burning Soul are often result of experimentation or oddities in process.
Souls
Many magic arts make use of souls, or the natural mana inside a living creature. Mana is altered in a nearly infinite number of ways as the soul of a being, creating an equally infinite variety of magics. Soul Magic is erratic, wild and unwieldy, but those who master it are possessed of an arsenal of unknowable attacks, fueled by the will of their captive souls. Soul Magic is the foundation of necromancy, as this manipulation of raw magical power is essential in the creation of undead.
From a heavily bound tome found deep within a long-forgotten library:
"A long time ago, when age had not taken my strength and swiftness, I was of mind to foolishly venture into the wildernesses, into the earth and over waters in search of various creatures of such terror and malice I might prove my courage by felling them. I gathered many trophies and many scars in such days, too many to count, and when time came that I wished to cease my brazen hunts I bought my place in my King's court with tales of bravery and the skull of a great wyvern, being granted lordship of the Black Tower. It was more reward than a hunter as myself could ask for, but as time went on I realised why I was given possession of the lonely halls. In my time as master of that mountain keep, I was tested by a greater threat than any wyvern or bog lurk.
It began with the murder of the stableboy, Miloch. We found him twisted and maimed among the muck and hay, suspecting a rabid wolf or monstrous thing from the mountains. It wasn't until the baker and his wife were found dead, with a third, unknown body amongst their broken home, that my squire and I began suspecting something more sinister.
We'd seen these kinds of wounds once before, in the ruined township of Jarod's Landing. It had been victim to a plague of undeath, infesting the land with ghosts and walking bones. It was something of a terror to walk into that fog-ridden, dead village; a place where naught a sound could be heard but the baying of black hounds in the distance and the howl of the wind. Not even the scavengers of the forest set foot or wing toward the stead.
All of the bodies began to rise as we came near, drawn to the warmth of our life blood. We had eight in our party of hunters then, and by the time we rid the town of the Restless we were cut down to three. The nights were never quiet, even in the homes we barred to keep the dead out.
Since then, I became aware of the signs, of the makings of undeath. Something about the town and my Keep had poisoned the land beneath it. When we investigated the Lonely Spire at the top of my mountain home, we discovered scores of Restless locked in a long-forgotten crypt. They were the ancestors of the family that had once ruled the Black Tower, forever cursed to rise once more after death. What we found upon further searching of the musty graves chills my bones still. In the depths of the Black Tower, the crypt connected by a series of water-filled chambers, and there were more of the walking dead than I had ever seen, driven back to life by our presence. In the throngs of undead, there were several of a variety I had never witnessed, with glowing eyes and black boils covering their dry, leathery skin. In time, we encountered the first Lord of the Tower.
His was not the undeath of the others, indeed he was fully aware of his actions, and spoke in a long-dead tongue of mountain lords. But madness had taken him, being surrounded by the ghosts and spirits of his own ancestors and descendants for so many years of torment. His chest was burst open, with a great glowing fire where his heart had been. His very soul was burning out of his body, and he screamed with a pain greater than any he had felt in life. We could not send him to the grave a second time, so we struggled to make our escape. Again, only three of us would see the light of the sun again.
I saw good men die in those days of our delving, only to come back to meet our blades. The experience has haunted me ever since, such that I have not slept through the night once in the time past. In my dreams I am hounded by the ghosts of my men, and by those who we met with steel in those dark times. I know that, when my time is come, I will join them in angered undeath. I pray only that my end is far off..."
The Restless
The restless is a catch-all term for the undead, as often times through sorcery or a trick of nature the bodies of the dead will rise up for a new (often short) life. The process of forcing corpses to move again is known by a few secret orders, but full reanimation is still outside of the meddling of magic. Often times, a "zombie" is simply a carcass that has been pumped full of elemental magic, with mana replacing blood, oxygen, and food as its sustaining force. Skeletons are created by a similar process, with their bones held together by thin tendrils of magic like pins. Ghosts are the souls of the dead left with imprints of a powerful will or a mere thought of someone who died in an area saturated with natural magic. The area has to be of a particularly high concentration of magic, otherwise it is lacking the essential force that allows the ghost to keep itself together. Variations of undead such as the Bone Lantern or Burning Soul are often result of experimentation or oddities in process.
Souls
Many magic arts make use of souls, or the natural mana inside a living creature. Mana is altered in a nearly infinite number of ways as the soul of a being, creating an equally infinite variety of magics. Soul Magic is erratic, wild and unwieldy, but those who master it are possessed of an arsenal of unknowable attacks, fueled by the will of their captive souls. Soul Magic is the foundation of necromancy, as this manipulation of raw magical power is essential in the creation of undead.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Setting Focus - The Citadel
So I utterly failed in my attempt to maintain a once-a-week update, but we all should know by now that I am not in any fashion reliable. Regardless, here's a new post with semi-relevant campaign information. If you guys are interested in something else about the campaign than what I've detailed, feel free to say so. As you may well know, I am a glutton for criticism, however often it comes my way. Many times, I am the one producing said gripes, but that is neither here nor there. Irrelevant.
My semester is over on May 1st, so you all know. Do what you will with that information.
___
The Autarch
"Autarch" is an archaic word that is roughly analogous to tyrant or despot.
For centuries, one being has sat alone at the height of power within the Citadel. Since drawing the parisian-blue spires up from beneath the ice, the Autarch has rested eternally within the central tower, frozen to a grand throne. None now live who can say with certainty who or what the Autarch was before he (or she, actually; again, no one is sure) came to rule the slowly crumbling fortress-city, but most all know of his power. Over time the Autarch has become more and more detached with the affairs of the Citadel, closing access to the central spire for months if not years, passing judgement or edict only through his mystical servants. Those closest to him know that he spends most of his time outside of his body, drifting aimlessly along the currents of magic to discover hidden truths. Recurrent absences have given some of his mortal aides opportunity to abuse their standing, but these trifling affairs are of no concern to him. The Autarch has become infinitely apathetic toward his subjects, caring less and less for his own creations with each passing season. This fact does not bother many citizens, for they have had a fairly cavalier lifestyle. The amount of freedoms they obtain and lack of any substanital taxes are sufficient arguement for living here as opposed to other cities.
He is, in a sense, merely a background element of the Citadel now, never exerting more than a small effort to make his presence known from time to time. Occasionally, on festival days or the like, he will produce for the crowds a simulacrum of himself to deliver speeches commemorating the works of the people, walk amongst the halls and to perform minor duties in service to his subjects. Always, however, his real body and his attention is held within the spire, gazing deeply into the twinkling cosmos.
Among his employ are a number of mortal aides as well as a retinue of imposing stone golems. His affairs are sorted out by a small group of nine or so advisers or supposed noblemen. Often times their duties are auxiliary to their actual jobs as merchants or guildmasters or (not surprisingly) criminal lords, functioning merely as enforcers of the major edicts or groundrules the Autarch laid down. They are the few citizens of the Citadel that the Autarch will actually allow into his presence, and are allowed a few extra priveleges apart from their contemporaries. They are able, at times, to call upon the aide of the Autarch's golems to solve disputes, or to employ as guards. Sometimes, with an increasing frequency of late, these mortal nobles will exploit such priveleges for personal gain. The Autarch does practically nothing to stop this.
The Citadel
Citizens of the Citadel know well the tale of how the fortress came to sit atop the wintry White Pine Hills in Midgard's harsh wilderness.
Centuries ago, a solitary figure stood amidst a whirlwind of snow encircling the whole of the forest, calling out to the ghosts of the place, keepers of secrets of ages long past. His voice echoed across the vast landscape, through the howling din of the blizzard. For miles around, the shouts and shrieking winds could be heard, growing louder and harsher in a chaotic duet. A thunderous boom rang out to the far reaches of the wildlands, then all was quiet. When the storm had passed days later, an unfamiliar shape broke the silhouette of the hills. A fortress now stood amidst the trees and creeks, where nothing had before.
Folk told others ne'er to venture toward the dark towers; malicious spirits haunt the forest around it, they said. Ghosts who steal you away into the night, never to be heard from again. The wild won't go near it, neither should you.
Over time, curiosity got the better of many, and eventually people from all variety of origin flocked to the Citadel to live under the protection of the Autarch and his vast obsidian halls. Now, the Citadel is home to numerous guilds, clans, merchants, tradesmen, artists, and magicians, all drawn to this place of awe-inspiring mystery. Different ethnic groups celebrate their own rituals and festivals, while every citizen respects such holidays that are unique to the Citadel, like the Observance (a time where a great number of citizens make the trek to the taller spires and stargaze for hours at night.) The people of the Citadel have developed quite a peculiar society for themselves, where the rooms of the fortress become storefronts, homes, storehouses, labs, etc., and the quickest or richest (or beefiest) among the populace get the good ones. Often, this makes for a strange social makeup, where the richest live right next the poorest, and under a merchant or above an artist without a studio. There are, however, still areas that are thought of as "tiers" or "quarters," like the Market (where a great deal of merchants ended up living because the rooms had windows facing inward) or the Bridges (where there are a lot of small rooms almost hanging off of stone bridges that span the interior of the Great Hall.)
The Necropolis ( from greek, nekropolis - city of the dead) is an underground cavern directly below the Citadel that is covered in grave markers, peppered by tombs and masoleums erected to house the bodies of a long-dead people. Needless to say, it generates a great deal of intrigue among the citizens. Its many twisting passages are houses to a great number of enigmatic phenomena, such as wandering spirits, will o' wisps and the walking dead. Only a select number of the Citadel's rabble are permitted to venture into the Necropolis, as matters of public safety forbid a great deal of meddling in the affairs of the restless dead. Chief among those who manage the Necropolis and its denizens are the Morticians, select men and women who join the Red Mask guild. (The Red Masks are an organization devoted to the study of the structures of natural life like anatomy and biology, and make their trade as undertakers, alchemists, doctors, assassins or torturers.) The Autarch's powerful enchantments have prevented the dangers of the Necropolis from spilling into the Citadel's commons, though occasionally a wayward peasant or adventurous lad will wind up mangled for having crept down into the dark. Apart from the Morticians, citizens whose trade requires their entrance into the Necropolis are allowed to venture below, for a price.
My semester is over on May 1st, so you all know. Do what you will with that information.
___
The Autarch
"Autarch" is an archaic word that is roughly analogous to tyrant or despot.
For centuries, one being has sat alone at the height of power within the Citadel. Since drawing the parisian-blue spires up from beneath the ice, the Autarch has rested eternally within the central tower, frozen to a grand throne. None now live who can say with certainty who or what the Autarch was before he (or she, actually; again, no one is sure) came to rule the slowly crumbling fortress-city, but most all know of his power. Over time the Autarch has become more and more detached with the affairs of the Citadel, closing access to the central spire for months if not years, passing judgement or edict only through his mystical servants. Those closest to him know that he spends most of his time outside of his body, drifting aimlessly along the currents of magic to discover hidden truths. Recurrent absences have given some of his mortal aides opportunity to abuse their standing, but these trifling affairs are of no concern to him. The Autarch has become infinitely apathetic toward his subjects, caring less and less for his own creations with each passing season. This fact does not bother many citizens, for they have had a fairly cavalier lifestyle. The amount of freedoms they obtain and lack of any substanital taxes are sufficient arguement for living here as opposed to other cities.
He is, in a sense, merely a background element of the Citadel now, never exerting more than a small effort to make his presence known from time to time. Occasionally, on festival days or the like, he will produce for the crowds a simulacrum of himself to deliver speeches commemorating the works of the people, walk amongst the halls and to perform minor duties in service to his subjects. Always, however, his real body and his attention is held within the spire, gazing deeply into the twinkling cosmos.
Among his employ are a number of mortal aides as well as a retinue of imposing stone golems. His affairs are sorted out by a small group of nine or so advisers or supposed noblemen. Often times their duties are auxiliary to their actual jobs as merchants or guildmasters or (not surprisingly) criminal lords, functioning merely as enforcers of the major edicts or groundrules the Autarch laid down. They are the few citizens of the Citadel that the Autarch will actually allow into his presence, and are allowed a few extra priveleges apart from their contemporaries. They are able, at times, to call upon the aide of the Autarch's golems to solve disputes, or to employ as guards. Sometimes, with an increasing frequency of late, these mortal nobles will exploit such priveleges for personal gain. The Autarch does practically nothing to stop this.
The Citadel
Citizens of the Citadel know well the tale of how the fortress came to sit atop the wintry White Pine Hills in Midgard's harsh wilderness.
Centuries ago, a solitary figure stood amidst a whirlwind of snow encircling the whole of the forest, calling out to the ghosts of the place, keepers of secrets of ages long past. His voice echoed across the vast landscape, through the howling din of the blizzard. For miles around, the shouts and shrieking winds could be heard, growing louder and harsher in a chaotic duet. A thunderous boom rang out to the far reaches of the wildlands, then all was quiet. When the storm had passed days later, an unfamiliar shape broke the silhouette of the hills. A fortress now stood amidst the trees and creeks, where nothing had before.
Folk told others ne'er to venture toward the dark towers; malicious spirits haunt the forest around it, they said. Ghosts who steal you away into the night, never to be heard from again. The wild won't go near it, neither should you.
Over time, curiosity got the better of many, and eventually people from all variety of origin flocked to the Citadel to live under the protection of the Autarch and his vast obsidian halls. Now, the Citadel is home to numerous guilds, clans, merchants, tradesmen, artists, and magicians, all drawn to this place of awe-inspiring mystery. Different ethnic groups celebrate their own rituals and festivals, while every citizen respects such holidays that are unique to the Citadel, like the Observance (a time where a great number of citizens make the trek to the taller spires and stargaze for hours at night.) The people of the Citadel have developed quite a peculiar society for themselves, where the rooms of the fortress become storefronts, homes, storehouses, labs, etc., and the quickest or richest (or beefiest) among the populace get the good ones. Often, this makes for a strange social makeup, where the richest live right next the poorest, and under a merchant or above an artist without a studio. There are, however, still areas that are thought of as "tiers" or "quarters," like the Market (where a great deal of merchants ended up living because the rooms had windows facing inward) or the Bridges (where there are a lot of small rooms almost hanging off of stone bridges that span the interior of the Great Hall.)
The Necropolis ( from greek, nekropolis - city of the dead) is an underground cavern directly below the Citadel that is covered in grave markers, peppered by tombs and masoleums erected to house the bodies of a long-dead people. Needless to say, it generates a great deal of intrigue among the citizens. Its many twisting passages are houses to a great number of enigmatic phenomena, such as wandering spirits, will o' wisps and the walking dead. Only a select number of the Citadel's rabble are permitted to venture into the Necropolis, as matters of public safety forbid a great deal of meddling in the affairs of the restless dead. Chief among those who manage the Necropolis and its denizens are the Morticians, select men and women who join the Red Mask guild. (The Red Masks are an organization devoted to the study of the structures of natural life like anatomy and biology, and make their trade as undertakers, alchemists, doctors, assassins or torturers.) The Autarch's powerful enchantments have prevented the dangers of the Necropolis from spilling into the Citadel's commons, though occasionally a wayward peasant or adventurous lad will wind up mangled for having crept down into the dark. Apart from the Morticians, citizens whose trade requires their entrance into the Necropolis are allowed to venture below, for a price.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
System Focus - Combat
While I was whiling away my time doing whatever it is I tell myself is worth my attention, I was stricken with a powerful need to commit some thoughts to this blog before I continue with anything else. I'd like to finish the Giants article, but I'm still trying to get it to a level of polish that I'd be willing to present. I added some information about the Jord, but I need to cut it down so that the practically useless information is no longer present. (Who but me cares that no one understands the Jord because their language is complicated to historians? That gets more attention than the fact that they eat souls? God I'm an idiot...)
For a long time I've been nervous about combat in my SAME campaign. Simply put, I don't like the rules I've written. As is, they provide no real incentive to enter melee combat. And that isn't bad, but it isn't representative of the kinds of scenes I want to illustrate with each combat.
I want guys who leap right into the fray, dodging attacks by a hair's breadth and retaliating in kind. I want guys perched up on a high ledge who summon strangling roots and hurl orbs of molten rock upon unsuspecting foes. And I want each option to be as viable as the other, so our characters never have to be shoe-horned into one job because they picked a certain ability over another.
That said, I was stricken with an idea recently. It was simple, and elegant. So much so that I'm wondering why I didn't think of it sooner. That way, I could have worked out some additional hang-ups before I lost my drive to write about it. Anyway...
Every additional increment they are away from melee, a defending character adds two to their defense.
Melee: add nothing
Near: add 2
Far: 4
Distant: 6
etc...
Ex: A warg is 120 feet away, but Someguy wants to call up a set of earthen spikes to pierce its wooly hide. He attacks with his Moxy, which is better than his Agility, looking to beat a 14+M defense. He's willing to attempt it, because he's looking to damage it a little before it reaches the party, etc...
Also, spells can attack with either Agility or Moxy. I don't really care anymore; the only reason I was sticking to Moxy is because I was getting held up by the "spell" moniker. All it was doing was making Strength/Agility characters useless or boring. So, that's out. Everything's just attacks now. It doesn't matter if your physical attack has a magical source or vice versa, it's up to you and your preferences.
The benefit of these changes should be apparent; there's more risk in fighting in melee, but you can put enemies down more quickly. There's less risk in fighting ranged, but you kill stuff more slowly.
That's it. All that's left is to tweak it some, so that everything evens out in a way that satisfies me.
Your thoughts?
For a long time I've been nervous about combat in my SAME campaign. Simply put, I don't like the rules I've written. As is, they provide no real incentive to enter melee combat. And that isn't bad, but it isn't representative of the kinds of scenes I want to illustrate with each combat.
I want guys who leap right into the fray, dodging attacks by a hair's breadth and retaliating in kind. I want guys perched up on a high ledge who summon strangling roots and hurl orbs of molten rock upon unsuspecting foes. And I want each option to be as viable as the other, so our characters never have to be shoe-horned into one job because they picked a certain ability over another.
That said, I was stricken with an idea recently. It was simple, and elegant. So much so that I'm wondering why I didn't think of it sooner. That way, I could have worked out some additional hang-ups before I lost my drive to write about it. Anyway...
Every additional increment they are away from melee, a defending character adds two to their defense.
Melee: add nothing
Near: add 2
Far: 4
Distant: 6
etc...
Ex: A warg is 120 feet away, but Someguy wants to call up a set of earthen spikes to pierce its wooly hide. He attacks with his Moxy, which is better than his Agility, looking to beat a 14+M defense. He's willing to attempt it, because he's looking to damage it a little before it reaches the party, etc...
Also, spells can attack with either Agility or Moxy. I don't really care anymore; the only reason I was sticking to Moxy is because I was getting held up by the "spell" moniker. All it was doing was making Strength/Agility characters useless or boring. So, that's out. Everything's just attacks now. It doesn't matter if your physical attack has a magical source or vice versa, it's up to you and your preferences.
The benefit of these changes should be apparent; there's more risk in fighting in melee, but you can put enemies down more quickly. There's less risk in fighting ranged, but you kill stuff more slowly.
That's it. All that's left is to tweak it some, so that everything evens out in a way that satisfies me.
Your thoughts?
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Friday, February 20, 2009
The world will look up and shout save us, etc. etc.
So dudes, there's this wierd movie coming out called Watchmen. It looks alright, I guess. I mean, the owl guy looks like a lame Batman rip-off and there's a wierd naked blue guy who can shoot lightning or something. But there's that dude with the wierd inkblot mask who seems pretty badass. He's totally channeling Christian Bale, but I bet he kicks the most ass in the movie.
But hey, it's directed by that guy Zac Snyder who came up with the idea for that movie with all the naked Greeks so maybe it'll be cool. It's out in like two weeks.
We could organize a viewing, if you peeps are into that sort of thing.
EDIT: It wouldn't even have to be on opening night if that's a problem for anyone.
Times for both Friday and Saturday are:
4:05
4:50
6:45
7:30
8:15
10:10
But hey, it's directed by that guy Zac Snyder who came up with the idea for that movie with all the naked Greeks so maybe it'll be cool. It's out in like two weeks.
We could organize a viewing, if you peeps are into that sort of thing.
EDIT: It wouldn't even have to be on opening night if that's a problem for anyone.
Times for both Friday and Saturday are:
4:05
4:50
6:45
7:30
8:15
10:10
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Creature Focus - The Giants
The Efreeti
Also called: Djinn, Ash Spirits, Ragmen
"Many years ago, I had the fortune to deal with an Efreet before they left for their desert homeland Sephar. The one I met called himself Abathr, or "one of tools" for his trade as architect. We were in a caravan wagon, traveling along the edge of the Wastes. Abathr was a giant, for even when sitting his head came to my chest. He was covered from head to toe in reddish-brown wrappings and rags trimmed in an ornate script. From the gap at his eyes I could see his skin was grey and cracked, like a burnt tree. He told me many things about his people, and how they came to Caldera."
-From Minus Militi's journal of travels
Quietly they emptied their homelands amidst the chaos of the onslaught of their cousins and mortal enemies, the Jord. Before they were silently swept out of their mystical realm, they were under near constant siege by the Giants and their frozen slaves, the Jordelfen. A cabal of powerful mages deigned to escape from the plight of the Frost Giants, and turned to forbidden sorceries. Deep under their most sacred of temples, they weaved pure magical force into a spell that plucked the Efreeti from Sephar and sent them to the mortal realm. The spell ultimately claimed the lives of half the Efreeti population, including the very souls of those who cast it. They left their home, a land of the coast, for the desolate and rocky desert of Caldera.
After they fled their ancestral home of Sephar, they quickly began recouping their losses, establishing a wondrous city of soaring towers and low alleys they named Sephar-Mehzrad, or "morning light comes again." Many of the great cities of the desert were built in this time, and the natives of the land benefited from trade with the Efreeti. They sequestered a hefty chunk of Caldera for themselves, their territory eventually stretching from Conglin to Maupai. Even still, they worked tirelessly to return to their mystical birthplace. It wouldn't be for many centuries that they were finally able to resurrect their realm from its tattered remains.
Because they lived in the middle of the desert, they required a unique method of procuring water and maintaining their food sources. The water magi of the Efreeti were, believe it or not, among the best in the mortal realms. So good, in fact, that they almost never run out of water. Their city streets were lined with large clay jugs of water, that anyone could take if they could lift them. Any time these clay jugs emptied, they were refilled by nightly patrols of water magi. In fact, there was something of a myth surrounding the water Magi, as the secrets to their methods were zealously guarded. Some believed that the Efreeti gods had taken pity on them, and gifted them with and everlasting spring that lay under Sephar.
Without a need to ration their water, they were able to supply their farmlands with more than enough water to yield usable crops. (With a little fiddling in earth magic, they were able to make the land more hospitable to farming.) This, in turn, led to agricultural surplus. With no one in Efreeti cities demanding more food or more water, they were able to devote most of their time to the research or production of useful goods, magical or otherwise. This, with their ability to swiftly traverse the deserts on magical ships that sail atop sand and not sea, made the Efreeti culture one of earliest societies to break out of a bartering economy and the first society in the history of Agartha or its mystical neighbors to mint coin. That is why, today, Efreeti coin is the most common across all of Caldera, even within Guild-controlled cities.
(Clarification: Conglin is the name for the western jungles of Caldera. It is where the Main House of the Calderan Empire rules. Maupai is the name for the eastern jungles. It is where the Branch House rules. These terms will be expanded upon in a later article)
(points to touch on)
-Physical appearance: Covered in rags and long strips of cloth. Skin like charred and cracked wood. Howling, or shrill voices and eyes of molten brass.
-History: Left Sephar for Caldera; the powers of their ancestral home could no longer protect them from the Frost Giants and their Jordelfen slaves. Came to Caldera; worked to resurrect Sephar, eventually succeeded and left. Created the elves of the wastes to defend their homes from the Jordelfen.
-Legacy: The Elves of the Wastes, the many temples situated atop powerful Fonts across the globe. Most in Caldera, others in Fyriss. Some in Midgard, amongst the middle of what is now Jordelfen territory. The struck through text above will probably all be changed...
After they fled their ancestral home of Sephar, they quickly began recouping their losses, establishing a wondrous city of soaring towers and low alleys they named Sephar-Mehzrad, or "morning light comes again." Many of the great cities of the desert were built in this time, and the natives of the land benefited from trade with the Efreeti. They sequestered a hefty chunk of Caldera for themselves, their territory eventually stretching from Conglin to Maupai. Even still, they worked tirelessly to return to their mystical birthplace. It wouldn't be for many centuries that they were finally able to resurrect their realm from its tattered remains.
Because they lived in the middle of the desert, they required a unique method of procuring water and maintaining their food sources. The water magi of the Efreeti were, believe it or not, among the best in the mortal realms. So good, in fact, that they almost never run out of water. Their city streets were lined with large clay jugs of water, that anyone could take if they could lift them. Any time these clay jugs emptied, they were refilled by nightly patrols of water magi. In fact, there was something of a myth surrounding the water Magi, as the secrets to their methods were zealously guarded. Some believed that the Efreeti gods had taken pity on them, and gifted them with and everlasting spring that lay under Sephar.
Without a need to ration their water, they were able to supply their farmlands with more than enough water to yield usable crops. (With a little fiddling in earth magic, they were able to make the land more hospitable to farming.) This, in turn, led to agricultural surplus. With no one in Efreeti cities demanding more food or more water, they were able to devote most of their time to the research or production of useful goods, magical or otherwise. This, with their ability to swiftly traverse the deserts on magical ships that sail atop sand and not sea, made the Efreeti culture one of earliest societies to break out of a bartering economy and the first society in the history of Agartha or its mystical neighbors to mint coin. That is why, today, Efreeti coin is the most common across all of Caldera, even within Guild-controlled cities.
(Clarification: Conglin is the name for the western jungles of Caldera. It is where the Main House of the Calderan Empire rules. Maupai is the name for the eastern jungles. It is where the Branch House rules. These terms will be expanded upon in a later article)
-Physical appearance: Covered in rags and long strips of cloth. Skin like charred and cracked wood. Howling, or shrill voices and eyes of molten brass.
-History: Left Sephar for Caldera; the powers of their ancestral home could no longer protect them from the Frost Giants and their Jordelfen slaves. Came to Caldera; worked to resurrect Sephar, eventually succeeded and left. Created the elves of the wastes to defend their homes from the Jordelfen.
-Legacy: The Elves of the Wastes, the many temples situated atop powerful Fonts across the globe. Most in Caldera, others in Fyriss. Some in Midgard, amongst the middle of what is now Jordelfen territory.
The Jord
Also called: Winter Spirits, Frost Giants, Ogres
"[Isne, or the world and its neighbors] is ours to keep, ours to master. All of its beauty is ours to behold, and ours to drink of deeply. It is not greed that compels us to guard it with such stead vigil. Cowards, charlatans and fools, deserved only of a poor death, they are our enemies. They are all those without Yodr's thirst, his ambition and power. They would poison this sacred land, and rob Yodr's bones of their majesty. The meager worlds they cut for themselves are insults, great stains on a great earth. Sad, hollow tombs they erect in a vain attempt to display power they do not own. Power they have yet to witness. Power, the might of Yodr, that, with a glance, levels their pitiable existence to dust. The least of ours is their greater; such is our strength. Such is our duty, to put these miserable creatures into miserable graves."
-Writings found within a Frost Giant temple, erected on a slab of volcanic glass 8 cubits high.
The Jord (pronounced with a short "y" sound) are the masters of the wintry peaks of the Otna Rim, an otherworldly mountain range that circles all other realms. In a way, they see themselves as gatekeepers and watchmen of the entirety of Agartha and its neighbors. Theirs is a society of rigid control, dominated by the powerful among these already fearsome creatures. Yodr and his siblings are their chief gods, though they have no strict religion save that they worship physical and magical strength above everything else. They place a great deal of value in courage, as well. When they meet opposition that does not shrink at the sight of them, they are on some levels pleased at seeing some of Yodr's spirit in other peoples. On the other side, the most despicable trait in all of Jorden culture is cowardice, or a meager spirit. Even their own are not safe from a terrible and painful end if they show signs of a failing heart.
Most of their history is told orally, and very few translatable texts survive today that could give modern Agarthans insight into Jorden culture. Their writing system is a series of runic symbols, each with deep symbolic meaning as well as a phonetic presentation. When the symbols are placed into a word, it is hard for non-native readers to realize the full meaning. Most of what is known about them and their culture is gathered through centuries of shared history, created through frequent wars and, rarely, trade (in the incredibly unlikely event that the Jord see a particular people as mighty or courageous, they sometimes do not look to murder every last one of them.) Their language is full of short, harsh words, shortened further in several seperate dialects by confusing glottal stops, operating alongside mixtures of several words making it extremely onerous for an historian to understand what they say. Whenever they speak to other cultures, they use a pidgin composed of rough, odd sounding phrases that mostly convey their meaning, say in trade. Often, however, their intent is muddled through this mistranslation, prompting frustration and inevitable murder.
They war with any who upset the order they seek to overt, dealing out such swift and terrible justice that the mere mention of the Jord can quiet a rowdy hall. They stand at a terrifying 10 feet high, holding sunken eyes that glow dimly with a malevolent hue, and blue or green-tinged skin that freezes water at a touch. Their clothing is cut from woolen cloth, dyed with various pigments of browns, reds and oranges and covered in dozens of lines of runic words, meant to grant various benefits. They wield gigantic weapons (even in their proportions) of wood, ice and metal, and decorate their armor with various trophies plucked from any corner of Isne.
The Jord, along with their elven slaves, are vampiric. While they do eat from their herds of sheep, cattle and elk, they favor a much more savory delicacy: souls. Jorden warriors and sorcerors have been known, from survivors of raids and battles with the terrifying giants, to be seen siphoning the souls of the dead out of their still warm corpses and are reborn with new vigor because of it.
(still more I need to edit and finish...)
The Dryads
Ack. I apologize for the lack of an update. I've been trying like hell to get over myself and post what I've been writing. For this article I still need to "finish" two sections; one for the Dryads and the other for the Frost Giants. To say the least, this has been nerve-wracking and wholly depressing. I'll write a lot, then immediately delete it. I think I'll put this article on hold for a bit, and then come back to it when I've had time to come to terms with everything I hate about the things I write.
I think for the next ones I'll be doing more specific topics so I can write it, post it and get feedback a hell of a lot quicker.
Next Article
1. Finish this one!
2. Famous Mana Beasts
3. Dynamics of Magic - Melee and why it's still a viable choice
4. A Unique Island Culture (one in Fyriss)
Saturday, February 7, 2009
A New Initiative
I've felt a growing detachment from my setting; chiefly that I haven't felt the drive to actually rewrite what I said I was going to rewrite. In the hopes that I may, at some point, be stricken with a powerful need to commit my explorations to a document, I felt I should frame my thoughts on the matter.
I've been mulling over several ideas, mostly pertaining to the systems that support the world. I don't feel like I've accurately described the idea of "Power Sites," and how important they are to the atmosphere and direction of the stories set in Agartha. Also, I've felt like I've been ignoring the mechanics, not having a clear idea of the style and flow they should have. Example: Spells. When I imagine characters in the setting, and the way they interact with one another (in combat or otherwise), I envision a very dynamic use of magic. As: some guys use their spells to supplement their already powerful frames and just try to beat the shit out of the other dude with glowing, fiery fists, while some guys switch shoot lightning from their fingertips from meters away, but could do that by punching the guy while casting the spell as well.
I've been trying to connect these kinds of scenarios to the mechanics, but it seems that each solution I try to use to reconcile the differences just ends up being to complicated, unbalanced, or arbitrary.
Apart from things tied to mechanics, I've felt that I haven't been forthcoming enough with the descriptions of even the most general of places/people/creatures/etc. I've been unable to satisfy my own internal critic when it comes to these things, because I feel that if I don't describe the item with exacting detail, it will not be accurately interpreted. Another reason I've been withholding this information is that I'm not exactly sure of it all myself. Although you guys may never get to these places or meet these people, I still wrack myself ragged trying to come up with interesting locales and characters.
Anyway, what all this means is that I'm going to try to spend a little time each week devoted to describing a certain aspect of the world, be that mechanics, systems (like magic or power sites), places, people, etc. What I want from you is just a vote for what thing I should describe. I'll put up a poll each week on the site for the topics, and you guys can just vote for the article you want to see.
Example: Next week I'll try to describe one of the following.
1. Deities
2. Power Sites
3. Mana Beasts
4. Outsiders - Giants
What should I write about?
I've been mulling over several ideas, mostly pertaining to the systems that support the world. I don't feel like I've accurately described the idea of "Power Sites," and how important they are to the atmosphere and direction of the stories set in Agartha. Also, I've felt like I've been ignoring the mechanics, not having a clear idea of the style and flow they should have. Example: Spells. When I imagine characters in the setting, and the way they interact with one another (in combat or otherwise), I envision a very dynamic use of magic. As: some guys use their spells to supplement their already powerful frames and just try to beat the shit out of the other dude with glowing, fiery fists, while some guys switch shoot lightning from their fingertips from meters away, but could do that by punching the guy while casting the spell as well.
I've been trying to connect these kinds of scenarios to the mechanics, but it seems that each solution I try to use to reconcile the differences just ends up being to complicated, unbalanced, or arbitrary.
Apart from things tied to mechanics, I've felt that I haven't been forthcoming enough with the descriptions of even the most general of places/people/creatures/etc. I've been unable to satisfy my own internal critic when it comes to these things, because I feel that if I don't describe the item with exacting detail, it will not be accurately interpreted. Another reason I've been withholding this information is that I'm not exactly sure of it all myself. Although you guys may never get to these places or meet these people, I still wrack myself ragged trying to come up with interesting locales and characters.
Anyway, what all this means is that I'm going to try to spend a little time each week devoted to describing a certain aspect of the world, be that mechanics, systems (like magic or power sites), places, people, etc. What I want from you is just a vote for what thing I should describe. I'll put up a poll each week on the site for the topics, and you guys can just vote for the article you want to see.
Example: Next week I'll try to describe one of the following.
1. Deities
2. Power Sites
3. Mana Beasts
4. Outsiders - Giants
What should I write about?
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Soapbox
So. Couple weeks into the semester; figure I might be coming back in a week or two. Would you guys be available on Fridays or Saturdays?
Also, as I'm sure you're aware, the TV spot for Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen has been circulating for a good day or so. Where the shit is Soundwave? Ravage is in the spot, but not Soundwave?
Friday, January 9, 2009
Anachronical greeting, fellows.
Hello. How are things? Do we still intend to indulge in fantastical recreation with the new day? Would that it be true, might I inquire as to the time for such? Répondez s'il vous plaî. A plastic or wooden toy composed of two disks linked by a small peg that utilizes rotational inertia to perform repetitive windings of a long string. Substitute.
[Editor's note: Translated to the best of my ability.]
Friday, January 2, 2009
Soapbox
Next time we get together, I'd like to play Kyle's game again. If it's fine with everybody, I'll try to see if Tom still wants to tag along.
I'll need to know schedules for this weekend, though. So, if you guys would post them that'd be great. And, this time, could you array your weekend schedule like a timesheet or something? This way we know when everybody's available each day.
Fri: ##:##-##:##
Sat: ##:##-##:##
etc.
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