Category: ports

  • Eldritch Skies… sort of

    Eldritch Skies… sort of

    I started sketching on a game in the vein of Eldritch Skies, the game of Lovecraftian horror minus the horror, and also minus all the Probluhmatick stuff… and unfortunately also minus all the dark poetry and evocative ideas, because no one seems to have pointed out to the writer that when you take out all the Probluhmatick stuff, it helps if you replace it with something instead of just slicing off huge chunks of the genre and then presenting the mutilating carcass as an improvement.

    All that said, the idea of Lovecraft without quite so much swooning and pearl-clutching and, yes, without quite so much hysterical xenophobia, isn’t without its appeal. I mean, let’s face it, sometimes the endless wailing about how horrible it is that this thing is mixing with that thing even though those things aren’t supposed to mix!!! gets a little tiresome even for a cosmic horror fan. So why not a game where you get to shoot Cthulhu with a raygun?

    Still, Eldritch Skies needs some serious massaging, not just in the rules but in the setting, before it can be a decent game, so I’m not looking to make a straight port of it so much as a reimagining. Hey, Cthulhu is public domain anyway, might as well.

    So what’s first?

    Well… first off, let’s involve the Dreamlands in a more serious way. In fact, let’s make them half the game, in the same way as the Umbra in Werewolf: the Apocalypse or the Underworld in Mummy: the Resurrection. Let’s make sure that there are always things going on both in the waking world and in the Dreamlands, and that they are frequently connected – that information about waking problems often needs to be found in the Dreamlands, and that disturbances in the Dreamlands are often caused by dysfunctions in the waking world. Whenever a character falls asleep, they go to the Dreamland; whenever a character wakes up, they return to the waking world.

    Speaking of which, let’s give each character 3 “strain boxes” that measures how close they are to freaking out. We’ll forego physical health entirely – that’s not normally what’s at stake in Lovecraft’s stories, and as for Eldritch Skies, the weapon of choice there are Yithian stunguns that knock people out non-lethally. Being physically hurt causes strain, but only because being physically hurt is upsetting; in the main, it’s your state of mind we keep track of. So, when you mark too much strain in the waking world, you pass out and end up in the Dreamlands, and when you mark too much strain in the Dreamlands, you wake up in a cold sweat. Also, whenever you wake or fall asleep for any reason, you clear all strain.

    To give “death” some teeth, though, let’s also give each character 10 “alienation boxes” that measure how close they are to losing themselves to the Mythos. Every time you wake or pass out as a result of strain, you mark alienation. When you mark too much alienation, you leave the game in some way decided by your playbook.

    Speaking of:

    THE AGENT
    High Practicality, low Imagination (worldly but dull)
    Someone must put a lid on the chaos, and it’s your bad luck that it had to be you. Empowered by the authorities and trained to withstand the sanity-shredding effects of the Mythos (for a while, at least), you’ve been sent out alongside the lunatics that the agency employs as troubleshooters in the hopes that you’ll keep them under some kind of control. To help you keep up with the inhuman abilities of your colleagues, you’ve also been outfitted with some gadgets that you’ve been assured are cutting-edge technology… but it’s odd how often their effects seem to mimic what the freaks get up to…

    When you exceed your alienation tract, you get forcibly retired by your superiors, possibly to a padded cell.

    THE DREAMER
    High Imagination, low Practicality (open-minded but distracted)
    On this pale, prosaic Earth, you are little enough – a poet, an dreamer, an impractical person in a practical world. But every night, you enter a truer reality, and there, you are little less than a god, wandering an endless land of wonders in search of ever-greater glories. It is with reluctance that you return each morning, but elder dreamers have warned you of the dangers of completely abandoning the flesh.

    When you exceed your alienation track, you overdose to enter the Dreamlands permanently.

    THE GHOUL
    High Rigor, low Intellect (fierce but simple-minded)
    You were placed in a cradle as a child, and grew up watching the world through cold scavenger eyes, not knowing until recently why you always felt different – why you felt called to claw and fight and steal. You know now that you are of an older and more virile breed than the lazy monkeys around you… and yet, some semblance of fondness for your adoptive world remains and makes you want to prove your worth to it.

    When you exceed your alienation track, you find your way to the deep tunnels and leave the sunlit world forever.

    THE HYBRID
    High Practicality, low Rigor (insidious but fragile)
    It was the will of Father Dagon that the briny blood of the ocean be mingled with the sweet one of the land. The experiment – or crusade – or migration – seemingly failed, but you remain, a scion of both worlds. The ocean whispers in your dreams, but you are not ready to go to it yet. Perhaps your presence here is still part of Father Dagon’s true plan to bind the oceans and continents together?

    When you exceed your alienation track, you throw yourself in the ocean in search of beckoning Y’ha-nthlei.

    THE PSYCHIC
    High Imagination, low Rigor (intuitive but erratic)
    For whatever reason, you were born different, with wild supernatural abilities that are only barely under your control. Some theorise that the appearance of people like you signify humanity’s gradual evolution into… something else. All you know is that the visions and headaches get a little easier to bear when you put your gifts to good use.

    When you exceed your alienation track, you transcend your body to become one of the daemon spirits beyond the veil of sleep.

    THE SORCERER
    High Intellect, low Imagination (educated but hidebound)
    The folly of ancient man was to misunderstand and misname his stranger arts as “magic.” The folly of modern man was to think that those arts were not real. You know better than both – you have studied the eldritch sciences, teased out the potent formulas and alchemies that were hidden among the superstition and the lies. You know that many who have walked your path came to a bad end, but they surely lacked your discipline and drive.

    When you exceed your alienation track, you perform an ill-advised ritual and trap yourself beyond time and space.

    And finally, the basic moves of the game:

    When you shape the dream, describe what should happen next and roll +Dream. 7-9, your embellishment comes true, but in a twisted or ironic way, causing as much trouble as it solves. 10+, you rewrite the reality of the Dreamworld exactly to your liking.
    Note: This move is only possible in the Dreamlands, for obvious reasons.

    When you make an intuitive leap, roll +Dream. 7-9, you get a hint as to what you should do next or what is really going on, but you get a fatalistic sense of impending doom; take -1 forward. 10+, you get a glimpse of the true state of the world without being disturbed by it… which should maybe worry you.

    When you perform an eldritch spell, roll +Intellect. 7-9, the spell succeeds, but it echoes within your soul and threatens the bounds of your sanity. Mark alienation. 10+, the spell succeeds, and you withstand its effects.
    Note: The Sorcerer can take advances that allows him to learn specific spells so well that casting them with a partial success only causes him to mark strain, not alienation.

    When you put the pieces together, roll +Intellect. 7-9, ask 1 question below. 10+, ask 1 question, and you may choose to ask 1 more in return for marking strain.

    • What have I read or studied that reminds me of this?
    • How do I make this stop?
    • Who is lying about something?
    • What should I avoid doing here at all cost?
    • What led up to this?

    When you get to where you’re going, roll +Practicality. 7-9, you make progress on your journey, but choose 1 complication below. 10+, the same, but you also run across an unexpected opportunity or resource along the way.

    • It takes a long time.
    • You wear yourself out; mark strain.
    • You attract unwelcome attention.
    • You have to pay a price, whether in goods or in blood.

    When you acquire what you need, roll +Practicality. 7-9, you find some goods, services or connections that are useful for your purposes, but you become entangled in a situation or have to pay a steep price. 10+, you got hold of what you needed easily, or recalled that you already had it with you.

    When you push for what you want, roll +Rigor. 7-9, choose 1 option below. 10+, choose 2 options.

    • You hurt someone worse than they hurt you.
    • You don’t mark strain.
    • You seize control of something.
    • You advance your tactical position.
    • You make a clean getaway.

    When you endure great hardship, roll +Rigor. 6-, mark strain. 7-9, you go on, but take -1 ongoing to this move until next time you wake up or fall asleep. 10+, you soldier on undeterred.

    That’s off to a good start, I think. Next up would be the special abilities and advances of the different playbook. We’ll see if I end up continuing.

  • The Bandage Brigade goes forth

    The Bandage Brigade goes forth

    In tonight’s game of Mummy: the Resurrection

    … ye gods almighty, I am running Mummy: the Resurrection. If you’re not familiar with it – and you’re not – it’s this weird kinda-sorta-but-not-really World of Darkness game that started out as a half-assed supplement to Vampire: the Masquerade but ill-advisedly got transformed into a weird sort of hybrid supplement that didn’t belong to any particular game line and wasn’t exactly its own game line either. The editing is a mess, the writing is hopeless, and there are a hundred and one problems that no one ever cared enough to address. So why have I been running it for the last year? I have no idea. Like most things involving my roleplaying campaigns, it just sort of happened…

    … but anyway, in tonight’s game of Mummy: the Resurrection, our plucky band of currently-but-not-permanently-deceased immortals set out into the howling storm of the Underworld, on a quest to plunder an old Hierarchy cache and actually have something to hit spectres over the head with. They started out on an unfortunate note by botching the spells they tried to use to make themselves better suited to venture out, but they eventually got to the subway station where the cache is supposed to be hidden.

    There, they milled about aimlessly for a bit before they were suddenly attacked by a weird dude with wings and a scythe who they resolutely managed to avoid fighting, to the point where I was starting to feel like he was mostly just swinging and missing. But apparently I managed to make him seem interesting enough that now they all want to get to know him, if they can just get him to stop trying to kill them first. I guess that’s a win.

    I feel like I wasn’t entirely on the ball with this session. I was running on very little sleep, and as a result I kept defaulting to my preparations instead of improvising in ways that might make the game more interesting. In retrospect, I think I should have brought in a little more action, or at least some plot twists, the moment I saw that the players weren’t sure how to proceed. Oh well.

    I’m also starting to wonder if I’m making magic too hard in this game. So much of it relies on lengthy rituals and boosting some spells by other spells, and by the rules players only have something like a 60-70% chance to pull them off at the first try. I feel like it might make things unnecessarily hard when they have to succeed at a long string of rolls before they can get the effect they want. I don’t know, maybe I should make some spells and rituals succeed automatically as long as you invest the time and resources in them? Something to consider, I guess.

  • Dark Heresy headache

    Dark Heresy headache

    Every game I do a port of is, in some way, a pain in the ass. If they weren’t actively painful to play, I wouldn’t need to do a port of them. But man, Dark Heresy is a pain in the ass.

    I’m at something like my fourth attempt at it, and this time I think I might be on the right track, but only by throwing away most of my initial goals and trying to save what can be saved. See, the main reason why I make these ports is that game systems are too fiddly, too packed with rules and calculations. A system should be simple to use, without requiring constant flipping back and forth through a doorstopper of a rulebook. So for each of my previous DH attempts, I tried to streamline things down to something easily memorable.

    And they all fell flat, because that kind of thing is actively opposed to what Warhammer 40,000 is. W40K is all about the clutter, all about the detail added to detail, about the neurotic beancounting and rote memorisation of things that don’t, when it comes right down to it, really matter much. That’s what the setting is, a giant glorious mess of people fighting to the death over trivia. Simplify it too much, and you might as well be playing a different game.

    So I had to take a step back, and resign myself to actually make use of all the fiddly little rules, all the “take +1 to Crotcheting except on the second Monday after New Years” modifiers, but to try to somehow carve them into something that was modular enough that you could at least grasp the situation at hand. Shorten the combat rules to, at least, two pages instead of twenty, and make the talents more or less independent of each other rather so you could focus on the next thing you wanted to be able to do instead of obsess over your “build.”

    All of which amounts to the fact that my cleaner-and-simpler version is at 107 pages and counting. Though in fairness, a lot of it is repetition, since one way to make it unnecessary to flip back and forth through the book is to write out the full information everywhere you actually need it. But still, Emperor have mercy…

  • Welcome

    Welcome

    Well, hello there.

    This here is my blog, on which I talk about all the roleplaying games I write on. There are usually a fair number of those, because I absolutely do not have the powers of concentration to stick to a single project. I offer very little guarantees about what the post will be about on any given week; it’ll be whatever shiny thing caught my attention just then.

    Some of the games will be new rule sets for existing game settings, because I have strong feelings about what rule systems should look like and what they should be aimed to accomplish, and hardly anyone else seems to share those feelings. I’ll make those rules available to anyone who wants to have a look at them. Right now, my five projects are Mummy: the Resurrection, Werewolf: the Apocalypse, Mage: the Ascension, Blue Rose and Dark Heresy, but doubtless I’ll start fiddling with others before long.

    There is also the ambition – but please don’t hold me to it – to work more on my own original games. The main ones I have cooking are Monstrous Mishaps, a comedic urban fantasy game running on a diceless system I am quite proud of; Heroes of the Ice Age, a low fantasy game set during a time of encroaching glaciers and hungry sabertoothed tigers; and Starlight Dreams (name subject to constant change), a game of divine power that might not be quite as absolute as you were given to believe. I have some plans to sell those once I get all my ducks in a row (but have you ever tried herding ducks? They’re freaking impossible to get in a row!), so hopefully there will eventually be some links to drivethroughrpg here.

    So there you have it. Mostly, this place is just an excuse to log whatever I’m fiddling with at the moment. If you find something to interest you here, though, nothing would please me more! See you around.