Beneath a moonless sky... (GLAUGUST 26)

    On the Calculation of Volume I, first of a septology, is a beautiful novel about a woman trapped endlessly repeating the 18th of November. (It’s my next musical.) Much of its beauty is in its exhaustive, unsparing contemplation of life in a time loop and all its ramifications- the weight it puts on her posture to the world, relationships with others, and sense of self. (Incidentally, it’s the next musical I’m working on.) In that spirit, here are some interesting properties and mores of the motescape, a world without sun.

• There are three levels of natural light: pitch black (underground or in shadow), ambient (open sky; the light of the Æther reflects off of the firmament), and bright (proximal to the Æther). Your eyes are adjusted to these fine variations, and are easily overwhelmed by intense light. Your torch going out in a dense forest is just as debilitating as in a tomb.
• Flames are almost painfully bright and visible. Using flame to see is difficult (that is, more than normal), and treated as vulgar in contrast to dimmer, longer-lasting lights, like phosphoric or sodium lamps. Common, impoverished adventurers are derogatorily referred to as ‘torchbearers’.
• When you travel, you can rest whenever you’re tired, shortening or extending your adventuring day by a watch or two without affecting your ease of sleep.
• There is humidity and dryness, and warmth to bitter cold, but no bitter heat. Unheated waters remain cold. The vast majority of people have only ever sweat from exertion.
• Nocturnal animals, like opossums, raccoons, and bats, are common pets.
• No city is without a bell tower that dictates its rhythms. If that bell tower is on a church, they send over a cleric with a highly calibrated nocturnal and a precisely manufactured hourglass to sync your bells to standard. Without this intervention, provincial towns mere miles apart can be on totally opposite sleep schedules, with bell-intervals minutes different in length.
• Interrupting a city’s light infrastructure debilitates it faster than starving it out.
• No moon means no moonlight or tides. Menstrual calendars replace lunar calendars, but sidereal calendars (or zodiac calendars, as they’re called) are what’s most commonly used.
• Seasons are created by the great migration of the birds, who carry the warmth with with them when they leave.

…I’m certain there’d be more to say if I played with the ideas even longer.

I remember playing this same game with a setting on a flat disc. The sun and moon, equally sized, orbited on a flat plane above the earth around the world’s center. That meant the city in the world’s center was in an eternal gloaming, and that on the edges, day and night were defined by the moon and sun growing and shrinking from pinpricks in the sky.

All this is to empower you to spend a moment taking your conceits seriously, and play in delight with the dividends of your imaginative exercise.

GLAUGUST 3: "The many qualities of night air." Thanks for reading, and happy gaming.

A RIVERSIDE SHRINE (GLAUGUST 26)

Spoilers for the Pb starter box. Thinking I'll call it THE WINDOWS OF THE HEAVENS. Too on the nose?

 SHRINE TO ABZU. Patron god of the R--n river since before the days of the Church.

V--. A sickly, smiling sociopath masquerading as a beneficent priest of Abzu, ‘disciple’ of the ‘recently departed’ D--. He believes that gods are made from worship, and SHE, a giant leech he’s nursing to titanic size through holy sacrifice, is his great project. He walks with a limp, covering up the wound from when SHE tried to feed on him.

At any given time, V-- is...

1-3 Tending the SHRINE (2), wiping away bloodstains.

4-5 In the UNDERCROFT (3), feeding a traveller to SHE.

6 In his TENT (4), writing in his journal.

(1) DOCK. Splintered, mossy, serviceable. Around the next bend of the R--n river, out of the temple’s sight, a river skipper lies scuppered and emptied after a bloody altercation (with V--, who fed its crew to SHE).

(2) SHRINE. Its support beams, circumscribing the squat stone structure, stick out above its cupola, imitating river reeds. Inside the wood door (V-- has the key) is a small, dimly-lit room, dominated by a statue of Abzu. On a plinth before it sits a dented brass offering-bowl. A hidden drain in the base of the bowl would deposit in the river, but V-- has broken open the pipe so it drains into the UNDERCROFT (3) instead.

SURFACES. It takes someone looking for it, but nearly every surface in this room- walls, floor, offering-bowl especially- has been scrubbed imperfectly clean of blood.

V--. If he is here, he’ll play the part of a kindly old priest. Please, leave a sacrifice for Abzu; maybe a gift, maybe some gold, or if you don’t have anything else, perhaps a rabbit in blood sacrifice?

GHOUL-HOUND. Behind the shrine hides a ravenous, tortured ghoul-hound (stats as bear at half HP). V-- has whipped it so grievously that it won’t emerge from behind the Abzu statue unless V-- gives a whistle, at which point it will pounce on whatever’s nearest.

(3) UNDERCROFT. In the center of this dank, earthen chamber, once a ritual burial site, is a pool of blood and gore. SHE, a massive leech, writhes in her feed. (Stats as carrion crawler w/ vampirism; heal for all damage dealt.) D--’s corpse is chained against the far wall, cut along the throat and drained of blood.

(4) TENT. In V--’s small canvas tent, tucked just behind a tall clump of reeds, is a bedroll and a journal; the ‘gospel of SHE’. Under the pillow is a bloody, coiled bullwhip. If V-- learns his tent has been, or is being, disturbed, he grows violent.

GLAUGUST 2: “Deicide dungeon.” Eventually for Pb's STARTER BOX. Thanks for reading, and happy gaming.

Garamondia in Review (GLAUGUST 26)

  Louis du Garamond is a luminary newcomer to the GLoG scene (by my crusty old standards). I’ve read some of his work, but I never quite got into it the way others have. This GLoGtober is my excuse for exposure therapy. I’ve selected a small handful of his posts for totally subjective and personal review.

Pilot-in-Dreaming. A unique class, deftly expositing setting mystery, and a well-executed retire-as-monster capstone. The tension between the evocative concepts, reminiscent of Vulvania or the Bad Doctor, and quotidian mechanical text dulls the shine. 6/10

North, South, East, West. Punchy and cool. Are we supposed to go there, or is this a glorified rumor table? 9/10

Brain Ghosts. My career aspirations are as a songwriter for musical theatre. I often feel that, beyond the basic principles of engaging storytelling, there are limited ways to bring that experience into gaming. A unique, compelling, and theatrical monster is ingenious, and inspiring. Can I come up with an existentialism monster? A dad rock monster? 9/10

Modron Calculator. I don’t know if the Modron Calculator lives up to the beholder’s standard of iconicity, and I don’t know if it’s worth its weight in ink (do we need, say, Matrix? Or the banal things you’re signing off to do?), but there are some fun ideas hiding in the excess. “The next time you fight a Calculator there will be two of them. The third time there will be four, etc. etc.”- I really like that. 5/10

What are your Dragons/Who's in Charge. For a long time, I wasn’t sure what Pb’s dragons looked like, and now I do. Epochal post of ideas (save for the unremarkable Baroness). 10/10

Hatesteel Blades. Holy mechanical text, Batman! 2/10

How I Run Games. This was a very interesting post, but I was particularly struck by Louis’s description of his blog writing. “I really enjoy writing in this mode, totally detached from running games.” In my experience DMing, players get antsy when they’re not speaking. As I write for games, even when I’m getting heady, I try to design with verbal economy in mind- designing things that, even when they’re meant to be complex or alien, can be described and grasped in few words. I wonder how Louis would introduce the Barony to new players? Would its most abstruse elements, like image games, make it to the table? (How) can one offer its depths to a player who won’t take on assigned reading? (I have the same question for authors like Locheil.) 8/10

Overall, while Louis’s writing is often more verbose than I think is responsible, it’s more often compelling and inspiring than I’ve historically given it credit for. I don’t know if I’d read through his whole backlog, but I’ll certainly click a few more index links, and read his new output more consistently. (Leave any other must-reads in the comments.) Thank you, Louis, for your writing, and commitment to craft. We’re all bettered by it.

GLAUGUST 1: “Review Another's Blogpost.” Thanks for reading, and happy gaming.

In Favor of Repetition

• In Favor of Repetition

• In Favor of Repetition

• In Favor of Repetition

• In Favor of Repetition

• In Favor of Repetition

It bears repeating.

I'm working on a Pb STARTER BOX (more on that as GLAUGUST rolls around), and one of the things I wrote up was a strange theatrical horror dungeon. As a piece of work, I think it's strong- I could run a deliciously creepy game with it- but something nags at me about it, and the language of In Favor of Repetition helps me pin down why I feel like it's out of place in what's supposed to be a quintessential Pb adventure.

In the Motescape, there are two types of dungeon: tombs and shrines.

Tombs are ruins, overripe with dead worlds. Hulking, rusted war machines that predate man's discovery of fire, sunken castles with alabaster towers, ruined alchemical laboratories reclaimed by malignant molds. What was here is gone, and what is here is dying too.

Shrines are touched by God. Riverbend altars to local spirits, bloodstained altars in fungal groves, byzantine chemical cathedrals. Sites of worship where the stories of the saints crackle with holy life.

The best Pb dungeons are sites that work through the problems of faith and death. How do we shirk their duties, embrace them? How are they swallowed by empire? What is it to live, to live, in the ruins of generations who never found the answers they, too, sought?

Thanks for reading, and happy gaming.

"Do every challenge in 500 words or less": an elaboration

Thanks to Loch for carrying the torch another year forward.

So, for the speedrunning, either...

A) Do 6 prompts, each entry being 500 words or less.

B) Do 6 prompts, which should sum to 500 words.

C) Do all 36 prompts, each entry being 500 words or less.

or, most frighteningly...

D) Do all 36 prompts, which should sum to 500 words. (This will include a game, 3 dungeons, and a "megaclass", and ~400 of its words must be sourced from the extant work of one literary artist.)

...I'm sticking to A or B.

Thanks for reading, and happy gaming.

Pb levels

LEVELS. Every time you gain a LEVEL, to a maximum of 10, choose a relevant TITLE and roll on the table below. You have ADVANTAGE on rolls pertaining to your TITLES.

1-3: 3 stat points to distribute. Stats cannot exceed 18.

4-5: +2 max HP, to a max of 20. After that, gain 3 stat points to distribute instead.

6: CLASS ability.

    WARRIOR: +1 favored weapon OR +1 SCAR range.

    PICARO: +1 KNACK.

    ALCHEMIST: +1 ELIXIR per day.

    ZEALOT: +1 MIRACLE or +1 CHARGE.

    SORCEROR: +1 INCANTATION or +1 CHARGE.

    OCCULTIST: +1 TECHNIQUE or +1 CHARGE.

LEVELING. For each campaign, define how LEVELS are gained. For example:

    -Attend your LEVEL in sessions.

    -Defeat your LEVEL x 10 foes.

    -Waste your LEVEL x 1000 gold.

    -Find an ARTIFACT, singular and hidden.

--

     I recently wrapped a short playtest campaign for Valley of Lune, a delightful sandbox ran by friend of the blog Hilander. This game was my first exposure to Cairn, a delightful little Into the Odd hack. Like Into the Odd, or another personal favorite ICRPG, Cairn characters generally don't have innate abilities, but are instead differentiated by the equipment they carry and use.

    I didn't notice this as the campaign unfolded, but after the game wrapped up, looking down at my character sheet and realizing that my character's capabilities had not changed in the wake of a fairly elaborate adventure, I found myself missing leveling up. It would have been nice to see the growth my character had experienced over the course of the game more tangibly reflected on my character sheet. I realized that I'd need to add levels to Pb (without breaking the minimalist sensibility, of course) if I want to make it sustainable for long-term play.

    Speaking of, I have ambitions to write a Pb sandbox. I've had the pleasure to play in a few sandbox, or at least open-world, campaigns in the past year or so, and I want to put the lessons I've learned from those great DMs into practice. I also want to exercise the muscle of putting what makes a setting cool on the table and in play- meeting SAINTS, discovering where all the titanium is, exploring below the Æther level, all of those things that let players feel like they're movers and shakers in the world instead of side characters in a novelistic canon. Hopefully there'll be more to share with that soon.

In the meantime, as always, thanks for reading, and happy gaming.

Was playing a game this evening...

 ...and I was thinking about risk aversion in dungeon games.

    There are many benefits to a high-risk, high-lethality game environment. When characters are vulnerable, one false move could spell their end, and every choice takes on increased meaning and impact. It's an easy way of heightening a game's emotional impact, and even works in extreme cases of murder-hoboery.

    The trouble with these environments is that they, naturally, inspire risk-averse play. This is only logical, appropriate, and encouraged. However, the heuristics involved in risk aversion means that the right decision is often the boring one. For example, I don't think I'm alone in the following default behaviors:

-It would take external time pressure, or the promise of reward, to leave an open road across easy terrain. I won't, say, cut through the forest instead of circumnavigating it, even if it's deeply convenient.

-When I'm choosing between pathways in a dungeon (for example), all else being equal, I'll avoid virtually all sounds. Then, I'll avoid virtually all smells. Then, I'll avoid virtually all light.

-Once my blood has been drawn, I will not parlay, even if the option is offered.

    Do you see the problem here? The risk-averse choice is almost tautologically similar to the boring one. The game world signposts its most interesting, dynamic elements. If you're in a high-danger game, these elements are liabilities, and customarily avoided. If you're in a low-danger game, poor choices don't have meaningful consequences, and the whole experience risks sagging.

    Even when I make the conscious choice to "play the character who pushes the button", a niche I love to occupy, there's a difference between assuming a personal risk and suggesting a potentially risky behavior for the whole party. That is to say, in my experience, the very same glue that holds the adventuring party together keeps it from making bold decisions.

    I don't think this problem has one clean solution. XP for gold helps, but doesn't solve the problem. Aggressive time pressure, and clear and specific objectives, often help, but aren't always possible to implement, and in cases of extreme stringency can lead to myopia, exacerbating the issue. Parity between choices (down this hall you hear laughing, down the other you hear chains rattling) neatly sidesteps the issue, but isn't always feasible.

    The most concrete suggestion I can give is to design adventures with risk aversion in mind. Intentionally build incentives to risk into the structure of the adventure, and design choice points to minimize the impact of risk averse play. Reward risk early, instead of merely not punishing it, so the party learns quickly that big swings can be worthwhile. Above all, assume by default that a party will interact with an adventure conservatively- if that would steer them away from what makes the adventure cool, consider putting those elements closer within reach.

    If you have other suggestions or thoughts, I'd love to hear them. Does this reflect your experience of OSR+ play? If you're a DM, or a player, how do you contend with these challenges?

    Thanks for reading, and happy gaming.