Category: Where I Read

  • Aberrant readthrough: The Directive

    Our stalwart progress through the Aberrant canon has now passed the halfway point, and it’s time for the Directive to finally get their time in the sun. So far, what we’ve been told about the Directive has mostly consisted of, “eh, they exist, I guess.” Can their own book elevate them?

    Spoiler: No… no, not really.

    We start out with a piece of fiction that is at least halfway decent. Apparently one of the characters introduced in the Teragen book has taken hostages on the subway. This person is a pretty weird character who goes by “Sloppy Joe,” because he’s got no skin and all his organs are kept in place by an invisible forcefield. See what I mean about the Teragen getting all the memorable NPCs? Anyway, the Directive is on the case, but their operation is complicated because it’s not enough for them to take Joe down, they have to do it in a way that looks good, so they’re doing a very intricate tap-dancing routine with the media, Project Utopia, and local law enforcement, all of which sort of leaves their actual hostage negotiator with his ass hanging out and being forced to improvise wildly.

    We then get a long and boring description of the Directive’s history, which amounts to the governments of Russia, Japan, America, Britain and Germany all having a problem with the way that people keep flying around and punching mountains these days (funnily enough), so they founded the Directive as a semi-secret international agency to keep an eye on novas. There is one notable event in the Directive’s history where some German media mogul was using his nova powers to enact subtle mind control of his viewers so the Directive exposed him and got him arrested. And… ye gods… This is what he apparently looked like:

    Yes. He was a bald German guy with a monocle. I’m only surprised that he wasn’t noted as being a cat person and having a name like Baron von Evilstein or something. I mean, look, I have no problem with cheesiness and cliches in roleplaying games, in fact I kind of prefer them, but Aberrant is so insistent on its po-faced seriousness that these things feel jarring. Like, this book seems to think that it’s doing John Le Carré, all dark and brooding and full of demoralising realism, but it’s taking all its inspirations from Bond movies.

    Anyway, bla bla bla, the Directive is super-secret and different parts of it have no idea what other parts are doing, and each cell operates on its own judgment as much as possible, which at least makes it easier to justify some player agency in a hypothetic Directive campaign. And also create some entertaining clusterfucks where it turns out that the suspicious people the players spent the last three sessions spying on was another Directive cell that was spying on them. Anyway, they are super-skeevy and trying to blackmail, extort, strongarm and generally bully people into serving their ends, preferably without ever revealing that it’s the Directive that’s pulling the strings. They also actively try to portray themselves as a bunch of hapless bumblers so that no one feels threatened by them, which I’m not sure how well it plays with the intro fiction where they were all about polishing their brand until it glowed…

    There is a mention of a new group of novas called the Protectors who have apparently buggered off to Antarctica and may be up to no good there. Okay, I approve of that in theory, this game desperately need more distinct nova “teams,” partly to function as antagonists and partly to provide examples of what a group of players could conceivably get up to and accomplish. Not sure what to do with the Protectors in their current form, though.

    There is a section on spy gear that’s actually pretty good, including things like “quantum-inert” fast-solidifying foam that can’t be affected by nova powers, so if a nova gets stuck in it she’ll probably stay stuck There is a drug that can be injected through a dart and causes a nova’s powers to go completely haywire – not just shut down, but start erupting all over the place. There is gas that causes eufiber (which is the wonder-material that a lot of novas use for their costumes because it adjusts to their powers – it’s basically the Fantastic Four’s “unstable molecules” uniforms) to freeze solid, so a nova can get stuck in his spandex. All of which feels pretty nicely balanced between being useful enough that the Directive can plausibly incapacitate and imprison novas and not being so overpowered that said imprisoned novas can’t conceivably bust free again.

    All in all, though, this book was a chore to get through. It’s got the same problem most of these books have, which is that no one seems to have been enthusiastic about the subject matter. Just like the Project Utopia book made me feel like the writers were apathetic at best about superheroes, this book makes me feel like the writers had no particular interest in secret agents. The Teragen book, as mentioned, is the one that actually got some love, because the writers were absolutely interested in cool, edgy posthuman monsters. And this book gets hit harder than most, because even those superpowers who do make it in have to be kept low-key and unflashy, so you don’t even have the occasional relief of seeing people shoot laserbeams at each other.

    Next up is the book on elites, which I can reveal is a bit better but still suffers from many of the same flaws.

  • Aberrant readthrough: XWF and Fear and Loathing

    This week in our Aberrant readthrough, two short booklets that… I mean… I can’t even… WHUT?! I think that this point, they had realised that they couldn’t think of anything interesting to do with the setting so they just sort of started throwing everything at the wall to see what stuck…

    The XWF (which in the world of Aberrant stands for Xtreme Warfare Federation) is a professional wrestling circuit for novas, or at least for what it claims are novas. Quite often, the wrestlers are in fact “mitoids,” people who have taken super-steroids to get a single dot of the kind of Mega-Strength that novas can take up to five dots in. They usually end up dying from an overdose and it’s all terribly tawdry and depressing.

    I’m honestly not sure if the writers here really loved professional wrestling and wanted to include it in their game, warts and all, or if they really hated professional wrestling and wanted to spend some some page count on telling everyone how terrible it is. Either way, it’s a bit underwhelming if you are entirely apathetic to professional wrestling and don’t think it gets better by adding superpowers to it.

    I mean, the XWF is mentioned in the core book, and I guess it works as a nice bit of setting flavour, both as a snarky commentary on how superhero fiction (with its oversized, strutting personalities and grudge matches breaking out at the drop of a hat) greatly resembles professional wrestling, and as a way of highlighting the sleaziest aspects of celebrity culture. As in, getting rich and famous from having superpowers is kind of like getting rich and famous from having stunning good looks, as in both cases you are in some sense selling your body even if you’re getting a really great price for it. There is something a bit interesting in exploring how you can be pampered and elevated in some ways and simultaneously exploited and debased in others.

    But there isn’t really any kind of plot hooks here. Again, unless you really think that he whole issue of pro wrestling is fascinating in itself, but even then I’m not sure there is anything in here that’s meaty enough that you couldn’t just come up with it on your own, just working from first principle.

    And then there’s… this thing…

    Like the XWF (like all the books published for the first edition, really), this supplement builds on something from the core book. Also like the XWF, it’s not entirely clear to me that it deserved further elaboration. See, in the core, there was a section briefly detailing how the major cities of the world had changed in the Nova Age, in a summarised version of what eventually got published as Year One. And it was all presented as an in-universe document, like most of this stuff, in this case as an article by a Hunter S Thompson clone named Dr. Duke Rollo. Here, he gets a full booklet to rant even more about stuff.

    Thing is, though, Rollo is written as one of those obnoxious people who consider themselves so clearly, incandescently right, and everyone else so obviously, self-evidently stupid and corrupt, that they don’t feel the need to actually make arguments or explain positions but just sort of keep shouting incoherent insults. And that can make them interestingly to listen to – for a while, at least – but it makes them really unsuitable to describe a setting that you’re supposed to use.

    Duke Rollo’s opinions, as near as I can make them out, are:

    • Project Utopia is bad and people are over-impressed with novas.
    • Everyone but himself is either a soulless capitalist or a braindead capitalist patsy.
    • DRUGS DRUGS DRUGS DRUGS DRUGS DRUGS DRUGS!!!!!!

    I will say two things for the character. Firstly, he’s actually anti-Utopia without being a either Teragen fanboy or negatively portrayed. It’d be nice if he could articulate why he’s anti-Utopia beyond just “most people like them, most people are idiots, therefore they must suck for some reason that I can’t be bothered of to think of at the moment,” but fine, I’ll take it.

    And secondly, he’s a colourful character in a setting that desperately needs them and has far too few of them. I’ve complained about that before. There’s a ton of characters, but other than the Teragen, they are all fairly uninspired and lacking in drive. Rollo, at least, is passionate, even if he can’t quite articulate what it is he’s so passionate about.

    All the same, this isn’t great. Next up is the Directive, in which Aberrant will manage to make James Bond boring. Stay tuned.

  • Aberrant readthrough: Teragen

    Our Aberrant – the totally not superhero game that we can of course play as a superhero game if we’re philistines – readthrough have finally arrived at the Teragen, the totally not supervillains who we can of course use as supervillains if we’re philistines. And… oh man. This one stands out.

    In an earlier part of the readthrough, I identified the Teragen as one of the two ideological poles of the game, the other being Project Utopia/Team Tomorrow/The Aeon Society. Where the latter is your basic superhero do-gooders (albeit with shady NGO backers and a massive civilian support structure) who are working selflessly to make the world a better place because with great power comes great responsibility and so on and so forth… the Teragen are the ones who say, no, that’s a sucker’s game. Why should we lift a spandex-clad finger? Fuck you, I’ve got mine!

    Of course, like all spoiled brats, the Terats don’t play particularly nice together, so they have about half a dozen different factions who all think that they’re the ones who really get it, man. Each faction gets its own sympathetic writeup where it gets to explain in its own words why it rules and everyone else drools, and each faction is also not-so-secretly one possible kind of villain you can throw at your players.

    • Nova Vigilance go around killing any baseline who “threatens novas,” which is interpreted precisely as freely as you might assume. Oh, and any nova who supports baselines who threaten novas, including by trying to argue that you shouldn’t go around killing them. So basically, they kill a lot of people and act completely self-righteous about it. Handy if you want a villain who’s terminally straightforward in his evil but has maybe just the tiniest bit of a sympathetic motivation at the bottom.
    • The Harvesters are physical monsters and express their body-positivity by going around acting like moral monsters as well. Including by eating people who offend them by going around having the standard-issue number of arms, legs, eyes and tails. Handy if you want pure creature-feature villains with a hint of “tragic monster” about them.
    • Pandaimonium want sex, drugs and rock’n’roll, and they want no limits to it whatsoever, and they’ll happily make a buck running drug and prostitution rings. Handy if you want to cut down on the angst and have villains who are basically just superpowered gangstas who like living large and sticking it to the man.
    • The Casablancas are subtle schemers who trade in secrets. They don’t do terribly much on their own, but they share information with the other factions and help coordinate them. Handy if you want villains for a more intrigue-based, investigative story.
    • The Cult of Mal worship the Teragen’s Magneto-wannabe, Divis Mal. Like, they literally think he’s a god and everyone should do what he says. Handy if you want villains who are religious fanatics.
    • The Companions are middle-eastern. That’s… pretty much it. Handy if… I don’t know, you want to spite political correctness by reveling in islamophobia? Maybe? Honestly, they’re kind of boring.
    • The Primacy, finally, just basically hate Utopia and baselines and the entire current world order and want to quantum-bolt it to ashes so they can build a new one. Handy if you want some cackling megalomaniacs who are after – WORLD DOMINATION! MUAHAHAHAHA!!! With, again, just the tiniest bit of actual ideological underpinnings for it to make it feel slightly less cringy.

    The book also contains an overview of the “canonical” future of the setting (since it’s the backstory of another game called Trinity). Basically, novas get increasingly crazy with Taint, baselines get increasingly freaked out by novas being crazy, and just generally novas join the Teragen in increasing numbers, and finally there’s a massive war between baselines and novas and the novas lose and leave Earth for greener pastures. The Aberrants and Project Proteus are pretty much completely irrelevant to the whole thing, and Project Utopia as a whole fades into nothing as everyone gets up on the whole nova-baseline-co-existence thing. I guess technically that means that the Directive wins, but they’re still so boring that they don’t even get a mention here.

    Now, I mentioned this book standing out, and it does. Because this book… this book, you see…

    This book is actually kinda-sorta good.

    I mean, it’s not amazing or anything, but there’s some real passion and imagination in it. The Teragen’s inner circle are lavishly described and idiosyncratic – they are actually characters that seem like they’d be fun to portray, and whose schemes and vendettas seem worth getting invested in. Like, there’s one guy called Leviathan who looks like a giant shark on legs and lives in a ruined cathedral in the flooded catacombs beneath Venice but is secretly a screwed-up twenty-something kid who was abused by his mother, and DEAR LORD, you can just FEEL the writers’ relief at finally getting to be gothic-punk again, can’t you?

    And the factions, likewise… Well, this is what White Wolf was always so very, very good at: taking a messed up perspective and arguing persuasively for it, and then taking a different messed up perspective and making an equally compelling case for it. White Wolf, at its finest, was an exercise in extreme empathy, the playing of devil’s advocate turned into an art form. And here, at long last, we finally get a taste of it.

    Of course, this also means very vividly seeing how half-hearted the rest of the setting is in comparison. The writers just didn’t care, at all, about the members of Team Tomorrow. They did care about getting to show off how smart they were by showing how real-world problems could be actually addressed using comic book superpowers, but the actual personalities that would be involved in such things? Nah. Give them a shark-boy with mommy issues any day!

    And that’s fair, we all know that the villains are usually the more interesting characters… but it does raise the question of why they even made this game in the first place, then. Or at least why they didn’t just skip the pretensions and made it all about angsty Teragen revolutionaries from the start. I mean, a game where Killer Croc is the misunderstood antihero fighting against Superman the clueless patsy of a fascist authority would perhaps not be to everyone’s taste, but it would certainly be different, and they would have enjoyed writing it a lot more than I think they enjoyed writing most of this game.

  • Aberrant readthrough: Year One and Project Utopia

    Ploughing on with our Aberrant readthrough, this week we are going to cover Year One (which is a general setting book) and Project Utopia (which is about, well, Project Utopia).

    Both of these books are, I think, absolutely vital to running the game, for the reason that Aberrant is not the sort of setting where you can just make shit up. This is clearly by design – the developers didn’t want an anything-goes kind of setting, but one that was well-defined, interconnected, and where things happening in one place had consequences in other places. Whether that was necessarily a good idea is up to debate, of course – I’ve complained earlier about how it makes it really hard to really make good on the game’s promise of letting you use your superpowers to change the world. Everything is so bolted down and slaved to a rigid metaplot that the things you can change just feel flimsy and unimportant… and on the flip side, if you do manage to change the setting, then it’s no longer the same setting and all those expensive setting books just became obsolete. But okay, for better or worse this is clearly what they were going for.

    The bulk of the book describes a dozen major world cities and explains what nova-related shenanigans are going on in them, with a signature nova or two statted up at the end.

    New York is boisterous and caught in a three-way tug-of-war between nova-hating religious nuts, nova-worshipping religious nuts, and nova-led rational inquiry (which also may contain nuts). Also, a nova has gone crazy from Taint and is actually leading both the pro-nova and anti-nova factions, under different identities, which is at least kind of funny.

    Los Angeles is full of degenerate has-been celebrities and is plagued by police brutality. And within the game, it also has a dozen different time zones within the same city! (yes, yes, cheap shot)

    Havana has gone from communist to an extreme laissez faire capitalism whereby anything is permitted as long as you can afford it. It’s a great place to buy and sell outlawed technology, corporate or state secrets, and the services of specialised novas. The fact that it sounds a lot like an old-timey pirate port mixed with a Cold War thriller is probably not coincidental.

    Mexico City is the headquarters for Team Tomorrow Americas (Team Tomorrow is basically the best of the best among Project Utopia’s novas) and has gotten a lot wealthier in a hurry. However, people are suffering collective whiplash from all the changes and are starting to grumble, especially since a lot of Mexicans are sensitive about Americans and Europeans not respecting their culture.

    Quebec is cold and bleak and boring, because this is a White Wolf publication, and I think the White Wolf writers considered Canada the polar opposite of all that was cool, edgy and gothic-punk, so any supplement that mentions it is going to portray it as absolutely miserable. They don’t like novas and they are killing each other over the stupid French/English thing. Feh.

    Venice has also gotten a makeover, including a ton of new islands to plonk down new buildings on. It’s the headquarters for Team Tomorrow Europe and, much like Mexico City, there is some friction between the frantic future-optimism of Project Utopia and the people who actually quite liked yesterday and aren’t at all sure they want to have it paved over without even getting a say-so.

    Lagos is under the competent but oppressive rule of a baseline dictator who is enlisting Nigerian novas to bolster his regime. I kind of like this guy just because he’s pretty much the only baseline I’ve seen so far that gets treated with some gravity. He’s clearly meant to be an example of the sort of realistic villain you can encounter in the setting, which is cool – he’s not out for WORLD DOMINATION!!!!, but he’s sure as hell out to expand his borders and cement his rule, and that will lead to him committing all sorts of interesting human rights violations that he’ll furiously deny to the media.

    Addis Ababa is the headquarters of Team Tomorrow Central, and is sitting pretty since Project Utopia terraformed Ethiopia’s deserts to perfection. It’s basically a scale model of what Project Utopia is hoping to turn the world into, hyper-modern and prosperous and with high-speed rails and cleaning robots everywhere.

    Moscow is the seat of the Directorate, which I’m still not going to go into too much because they’re still boring, but anyway, Moscow is basically a hotbed of Cold War style espionage and misdirection and general paranoia. It’s grim, it’s cold, and your hotel room is definitely bugged.

    Mumbai is the new movie capitol of the world, having beaten out Los Angeles. Novas flock here to make really flashy movies where you’ll believe a man can fly because he actually is flying.

    Jakarta is a mess. The whole nova boom just kind of didn’t happen here, and everyone is cranky about it. Also, organised crime.

    Hong Kong. More organised crime, and the meeting between the West and the East or some such cliche.

    Tokyo loves novas to a slightly unsettling extent. There are religions worshipping them, and even the secular fans are a bit scary. The Japanese government is part of the Directive but basically likes novas fine as long as they’re its novas, having formed a Japanese super team called Nippontai to compete with Team Tomorrow. We don’t find out much about them, which is a shame.

    After the cities, there is a section about cutting-edge technology in the alternate year of 2008. Again, this is absolutely essential, because the books keep mentioning how the novas have created cool new technology while also stressing that this is not the sort of anything-goes setting where a super-genius can whip up a time machine in a few hours, and balance can be tricky to strike if you’re not up to date on what the latest technological forecasts are.

    Specifically, new technology includes hypercombustion (cars still run on petrol, but they’re a lot more energy-efficient about it), a new super-fast Internet called the OpNet (which, impressively enough, really does resemble the Internet of 2025 to a prescient extent), genetically engineered microorganisms that can clean up pollution, limited cloning and limited cybernetics. People have abandoned floppy disks and CDs in favour of miniaturised “chips” that can be plugged into a carriable reader (yeah, it no doubt seemed terribly futuristic in 1998). Flying cars actually do exist, but most countries don’t let civilians drive them for obvious reasons. Reasonably lifelike remote-controlled robots likewise exist, but they are very limited (for one thing, they have a physical wire trailing after them) and so are mostly just used by politicains who want to make public appearances despite concerns about assassination. Cold fusion is being worked on, but no one managed to figure it out yet. Oh, and someone has invented a miniature remote-controlled tank, and the crime syndicates are absolutely going to get their hands on some and use them against the players.

    Project Utopia! Another thing you absolutely need, because this is supposed to be the massive organisation that has reshaped the entire world and who have their fingers in every pie, and the shady dealings of which form the spine of the entirely-too-inescapable metaplot. You need to read this book to play the game.

    So it’s a shame that it’s so damn boring. Most of it is just the same tiresome gushing about how Project Utopia is doing all those things that all reasonable people agree ought to be done, and nyeeh-nyeeh-nyeeh to all the nay-sayers who said it wouldn’t work because they tried it and it totally does. We get a slightly more detailed history of the Project, most of which we already knew from the core book, and we get a rundown of all the various divisions and who’s running and them and what they do to make the world a better place. Again, this is certainly necessary, a lot of those details are ones that you need in order to really imagine how the organisation works and therefore how it will affect the players, but it’s just so dry.

    We eventually get a description of Project Proteus and its secrets, which is a tiny bit more interesting. It turns out that Proteus isn’t a huge organisation or anything, it’s really just a small group of people who have cover identities within Utopia and keeps quietly co-opting its resources for their own shady business.

    For example? Well, Utopia supposedly negotiated a peace treaty between Israel and Palestine (oooof, that’s a little harsher in hindsight) through nothing but skillful diplomacy and appeals to everyone’s better nature, but that’s a complete fib and Proteus actually covertly threatened both sides with complete destruction if they didn’t play ball.

    There was this thing called the Equatorial Wars where a lot of Third World countries started hiring nova elites to fight each other, and Team Tomorrow supposedly went in and busted heads and got them to stop. Except that’s a lie and Team Tomorrow actually got their asses handed to them and just sort of declared victory and went home, with the press helpfully over-emphasising their few victories and downplaying the fact that there is, somehow, still a thriving market for elites after Team Tomorrow supposedly put a damper on them.

    Utopia also fixed the Y2K bug, and what no one knows is that while it did so Proteus used the access to every computer on Earth to hide any and all evidence that novas existed (in limited numbers) long before the Galatea incident. And that’s good as far as it goes, but it’s still a somewhat thin gruel.

    Also, have I mentioned before that the sterilisation plot and vivisection labs cause a MASSIVE tonal mismatch with the frantic happy-happy-joy presentation of Utopia as a whole? It’s like the writers genuinely didn’t see what the big deal was – they explicitly say things like how Project Utopia is the closest thing to a pure “good” faction that a “realistic” game allows, and uhm… STERILISATION PLOT! VIVISECTIONS! Come on, guys, I’m all for moral nuance, but if you mix squeaky-clean public service on the outside with double-plus-mega-Nazi crap on the inside, what you get isn’t a morally nuanced organisation, it’s a ridiculously evil organisation that is passing itself up as a ridiculously good one!

    Anyway, know how I said that with these two books, I’d finally figured out Aberrant? Well, here it comes. Do not brace yourself, the truth is not particularly shocking. It’s like this:

    Aberrant presents itself as a deconstruction of superhero tropes, but it’s actually not. It’s better thought of as reconstruction of them. A deconstruction takes the tropes and shows how absolutely terrible they would be in practice, or how they would absolutely not work that way in reality. A reconstruction, on the other hand, takes the tropes and attempts to justify them, attempts to present ways that they could still work very much as they do while still being realistic.

    And that, pretty much, is Aberrant. It’s not a deconstructed superhero world. It’s a superhero world with additional narrative scaffolding and semi-realistic consequences.

    • Project Utopia is the Justice League if they dealt mostly with peacekeeping, disaster relief, and other real-world issues rather than battling supervillains. Team Tomorrow is the high-publicity frontal figures that form the actual “superhero team,” but Project Utopia is much bigger because saving the whole world takes a lot of boring non-sparkly people in addition to the “superheroes.”
    • The Teragen are Magneto’s Brotherhood of Mutants with some actual philosophical examination of the whole “we are the future, not them” sentiment, and with the caveat that while some of them are superpowered terrorists, others are more subtle and thoughtful in how they apply their posthuman ideals.
    • The Directive are a version of SHIELD that acts more like a real intelligence agency crewed by cynical Cold War veterans rather than a bunch of action heroes in skintight uniforms.
    • The elites are the sort of supercrooks-for-hire that tend to show up on the payroll of unpowered crooks like Lex Luthor and Wilson Fisk, except their profession is semi-legal (if only because they only admit to the jobs that are roughly above-board) and they charge a lot more than a local crime boss could afford, so they mostly work for dictators and international syndicates.

    So, if we ignore Proteus and the Aberrants and the stupid sterilisation plot, how do you run Aberrant? Drum roll here, please:

    You run it… like a superhero game.

    Seriously. It’s a superhero game. It’s just a superhero game where you stop a little more often and consider the logistics and infrastructure behind the plots. You will probably play as a bunch of superpowered do-gooders (probably on Utopia’s payroll) with flashy costumes and nicknames (for publicity purposes) who run around righting wrongs (but the wrongs are real-world wrongs like terrorism, pollution, and poverty) and constantly have run-ins with superpowered goons (who are either elites hired by whomever you’re annoying with your do-gooding, or Terats who oppose novas doing good for baselines on general principle). There will be shiny technology that gets stolen, sabotaged or malfunctions, but it’ll be things like genetically engineered supercrops or alternate energy sources, not time machines. And so on. There’ll be shady government secrets, but the secrets will be things like, “bombed somewhere they weren’t supposed to bomb,” not attempts to build all-destroying superweapons. You take a regular superhero scenario, and then you turn it down a notch. That’s Aberrant.

    Which at least makes it playable… but it’d have been nice if the game could just have admitted that without prevaricating quite so much…

  • Aberrant readthrough: Storyteller Companion and Expose: Aberrants

    Moving on in my first-edition Aberrant readthrough, this week I will talk about the first two supplements released: the Storyteller Companion and Expose: Aberrants.

    The Storyteller Companion is divided into two halves, one that provides further worldbuilding and one that is a three-act adventure. The worldbuilding is, as always with Aberrant, composed of a number of in-world documents (and a comic or two), but it can be roughly broken down into two parts: business and religion.

    The business part is mostly forgettable, but it does establish that industrial espionage, and security against the same, are two things that novas are frequently employed for. That’s good, it means that you can run any number of “steal the McGuffin” or “find out who stole the McGuffin” type scenarios.

    The religion part is a little more varied. The Pope has formally declared novas to be human (which maybe kinda totally had less to do with theology and more to do with Mega-Charismatic nova celebrity Alejandra meeting with him just before), and the crustier elements of the clergy are plotting to have him assassinated by hired novas. The Unitarians are super-optimistic and friendly to novas, because of course they are, and American fundamentalists (because remember that we’re back in the 90s, so fundies are of course the epitome of all earthly evil) are bigoted and ignorant and hate novas. Israel is claiming that God hasn’t erupted a single nova in Israel because Jews are too awesome to need them, but they are totally lying and all Israeli novas have just been quietly recruited into the armed forces. Shiite Muslims think novas are the work of the devil (and the fact that a nova set to be executed freaked out and blew up a small town hasn’t made anyone on either side feel better about it), while Sunni Muslims are cautiously open to the idea that maybe novas are blessed by Allah… though there are heretical Sunni sects who think that they can get nova powers by killing novas and eating their “blessed” bodies. Okay, as far as geopolitical tensions that might involve the players go, a lot of those are at least decent.

    Nova cults are also a thing, especially in India, where rural novas are frequently worshipped as avatars of the gods, and in America, because skeevy cults are a hit there. One particular nova makes a habit of eating her cultists and then using Mega-Charisma to get juries to bend over backwards to excuse it as a voluntary religious practice. Ick, but kind of cool. Japan also has a growing Buddhist sect that considers novas to be divine, and some of whom have started bombing subways for no particular reason. Again, this is fairly decent and provides some information for both outright villains and for non-obvious moral questions that the players might weigh in on.

    The adventure in the second half of the book is kind of lousy, to be honest. It does provide some description of Ibiza (and perhaps more importantly its premier nova night club, the Amp Room, which was mentioned in the core book and will become relevant again later), Marrakesh and Monaco in the Nova Age, which might be handy, but the story itself is a bland railroad where the players should preferably do as little as possible because the NPCs will just fix everything on their own if the players don’t do anything as rude as trying to roleplay.

    Briefly, the players are agents of either the Aberrants, Project Utopia, or Project Proteus, and they’ve been sent to find this nova lady who maybe knows some stuff she shouldn’t. Project Proteus has also sent a one-dimensional psychopath named Chiraben after her. Like, I cannot possibly stress enough how flat this character is, he’s basically just some moronic nutcase who enjoys killing people (especially women, because of course especially women) and for some reason he keeps being given Project Proteus’ most delicate assassination jobs.

    The only other significant character is Count Orzaiz, the signature Teragen. He’s just as boring in the other direction – the text just can’t shut up about how dark and lordly and charismatic he is, and how everyone loves him (except Chiraben, because he’s dumb and smells bad). Even his freaking dad is perfect (though I will grant you that I thought it was a little bit funny that his take on Orzaiz’s wholesale adoption of Teragen philosophy amounts to, “oh, he’s acting out for attention with that whole ‘I have evolved beyond base humanity’ thing. Ah, well, boys will be boys, he’ll get over it eventually”). Orzaiz is the one who keeps fixing everything, by the way – the supposed climax of the story is basically just him going up to Chiraben and paying him some money to go away and stop bugging him, whereafter he proceeds to bang the nova the players were sent to capture into joining the Teragen. Yes, really.

    Expose: Aberrant is the splatbook (or as close to this game comes) for, well, the Aberrant faction, but since there is very little to be said about it, it’s just this little 26-page thing. It’s a splatpamphlet, basically. Most of the pagecount is taken up by a lot information about how the inept assassination (by Chiraben, naturally) that set off the metaplot was very unconvincingly covered up, which, since we already know what happened there, it’s terribly uninteresting.

    That said, there is some guidance for how to portray the Aberrants. There are basically three mini-factions among them, the quiet supporters who are trying to infiltrate Utopia to find out the truth, the fugitives who have gone on the run and try to uncover the truth along the way, and the I-Can’t-Believe-It’s-Not-The-Teragen who think they already know as much of the truth as they care to and are just flat out attacking Utopia’s operations.

    Interesting characters, effectively just one named Dr. Worm who’s a hyper-Nietzschean who would be perfect for the Teragen except he thinks even they aren’t hyper-individualistic enough (in fairness, he’s got a point; whether it was intentional or not, Divis Mal comes across as very much the sort of demagogue who preaches radical freedom but has very strong feelings about what people ought to do with their radical freedom once they have it). Interesting plot hooks, about one and a half – there is an example of something Utopia was doing (sponsoring the building of a dam that would drown the property of some people who didn’t want to move) that exemplifies the “serving the greater good, and brushing the cost under the carpet” thing that would actually make Utopia an interestingly grey faction. On the opposite side of things, apparently Project Proteus has secret facilities where they run horrific experiments on captive novas, which… well, it’s something concrete that we’ve been told about them doing, at least.

    What both these books mostly bring home for me is just how… completely uninterested the writers were in the Aberrant movement and Project Proteus, despite those being supposedly their main heroic faction and their main villainous faction, respectively. Even in their own book, the Aberrants get nothing in particular to do except retread points from the core. And Proteus, supposedly the overarching villain of the setting? Well, they are over there doing… like… evil stuff. Or something.

    What do the writers want to talk about? Two things, mostly. Firstly, the moral perfection of Project Utopia, and all the wonderful things they do, and how wonderful they are for doing so many wonderful things, and how wonderful it is that they are so wonderful as to do so many wonderful things. And secondly, the amoral perfection of the Teragen and how they are cool and edgy and totally don’t subscribe to your, like, slave morality, man. Notably, the Teragen are the only people allowed to criticise Utopia without being portrayed as inbred rednecks or unwashed conspiracy theorists who should keep their mouth shut about their betters – the Teragen, in contrast, are allowed to make actual arguments, and instead it’s Utopia who can never muster an argument about them that doesn’t amount to, “duhhhhh, they terrorists, terrorists baaaaad.”

    So no matter what the writers initially intended, what the game actually shaped up to be seems to be a conflict between the people who think that novas can and should make the world perfect, and the people who think that the novas certainly could do that, but why should they demean themselves to do anything for those filthy baselines? And I feel like what’s missing from that duality is any sort of moral agency for the baselines, and any sense that the novas might not have the capacity to “save the world,” to say nothing of whether they have the right. There is a faction called the Directive that’s supposed to be a mostly-baseline organisation that tries to champion baseline nation states against unchecked nova power, but there is a reason why this is the first time I’ve mentioned them, and it’s that they’re just that boring and underdeveloped.

    Honestly, that’s very in character for White Wolf. Everything is always ultimately about the shiny magical people, with everyone else being reduced to either fawning admirers, easily dispatched mooks, or faceless grey masses. It’s kind of especially blatant here, though – I recall at one point, the narration (which is not in character, in this case, but part of the GM instructions) snidely asks you why, if novas aren’t in fact superior to common mortals, you are playing as one. Yeah…

    Ah well. Next up is Year One and Project Utopia. And there, by Jove, I think I actually figured out how to play this game. I’ll warn you, though, the answer a little bit of a anticlimax.

  • Aberrant readthrough: Core

    Aberrant readthrough: Core

    The thought occurred to me that if I’m going to read my way through all of first-edition Aberrant, I might as well post my thoughts here. It’s not going to be a full readthrough, but I’ll go over each supplement in turn.

    So, starting out with the core book. It starts off without preamble with in-universe documents, and get used to that, because that’s going to be most of these books. White Wolf was always fond of that, but I don’t think it works quite as well here as in most of their other lines, for reasons I’ll get into later unless I forget.

    Anyway, to try to summarise a tremendous amount of setting lore, ten years ago (in 1998) the space station Galatea exploded and drowned the world in quantum energies, and as a result about one person in a million “erupted” into a “nova” who can manipulate the quantum forces of the universe in ways that for some reason is completely identical to stock superhero powers. The books even admit that “quantum energies” are just things like gravity and electromagnetics, but novas can still teleport and read minds and change shape and they can do it Because Quantum. Which would be fine, except the book spends long, tiresome sections technobabbling away to try to make it all seem reasonable and sciency.

    Anyway, an NGO called Project Utopia emerged suspiciously quickly to provide guidance for novas and, using a mix of nova powers, technological breakthroughs enabled by nova powers, and public goodwill generated by the above, set about cleaning up the environment, toppling dictatorships, arranging peace treaties, and just generally fixing real-world problems. Not all novas work for Utopia, though, a lot of them have cushy corporate jobs or serve as mercenary “elites” who hire themselves out as superpowered bruisers – indeed, the primary way to wage war has become hiring some novas to fight the novas the other country is hiring.

    There aren’t supervillains per se, but there is a group called the Teragen led by a Magneto-wannabe called Divis Mal who claim that novas aren’t human anymore and therefore they have no obligation to respect “baseline” laws or ethics. Project Utopia considers them a bunch of terrorists, which is not completely true but not completely false either.

    But Teragen aside, there is a loooooot of frankly tiresome in-setting documents outlining how novas have changed fashion, music, the entertainment industry, and how everything is super-great and everyone is happy except maybe a few stupid pootiehead malcontents… and then all of a sudden we learn that ACTUALLY, there is a secret conspiracy inside Utopia called Project Proteus, and it is up to no good and have sterilised every single nova in the world. Yes, all of them. Somehow. And some chick called Slider found out and they killed her, and her layabout bestie Corbin have gone on the run accused of the crime and he’s founded a resistance movement called the Aberrants who wants to put a stop to Proteus.

    And, ugh… this plot hook, man. This freaking plot hook. It’s dead centre in the game, almost everything leads back to it and it’s just – so – STUPID. For one thing, how did Proteus even get to every single nova in the world? And how exactly did they expect this would work out, no one would ever notice that six thousand high-profile people had fertility issues all at once, and none of the super-genius intellects of the setting would ever put two and two together? And thematically, it’s just a mess. Here, have a game about playing a glamourous picture-perfect superhero! Oh, but you’ve been castrated without noticing. Yeah, that doesn’t ruin the power fantasy at all

    Honestly, it feels a bit like the guy who thought of it was very childfree and he thought it’d actually be kind of neat if all his shiny superheroes could be hot, single, and absolutely untouched by the messy business of reproduction. Because while there is some finger-wagging about how forced mass sterilisation is, like, bad and stuff, there seems to be about zero understanding of just how big a deal it would be in the real world and how hard most people would take it. It does kind of feel like the kind of idea I would have had back in my twenties, in fairness…

    But anyway, even aside from that, it’s not even especially useful as a plot hook. It’s simultaneously too big and too tightly defined. If novas are secretly being subject to genocide by the people who are supposed to direct them in building a better tomorrow, then that makes pretty much everything else they get up in the setting look stupid and pointless… but at the same time, the Aberrants-versus-Proteus conflict is just too straightforward to work as a starting point for your own ideas. Proteus isn’t a nebulous evil organisation doing all manner of inventive bad things that the players can get into – it’s doing one particular bad thing, and it’s pretty well-understood right from the start why and how it’s doing it, so all that’s really left is trying to prove it to the public. And yes, you can build a campaign around that, but that’s just it – you can build one campaign around that. It’s not something you can riff on and take in a ton of different directions.

    So, anyway, that’s the setting, and aside from (sigh) THAT THING, it’s not a bad one – certainly it feels vivid and lived-in, and there is some appeal in playing a character with superpowers in a setting where having superpowers doesn’t necessarily make you a superhero but where powers are being put to all sorts of personal, financial and political tasks. My main problem is actually that the core book spreads itself pretty thin over a ton of different parts of the setting that it wants to point to, and the fact that it insists on presenting everything as in-setting documents just make it worse, because making those informative and not just flavourful is pretty hard, and I don’t feel like the writers here were really up to the challenge. There’s a very strong feeling that this book was meant to give you a taste and nothing more. You want to actually use Project Utopia, buy their book! You want to use the Teragen? They’ll get a book! Oh, and there are these massive criminal syndicates who have adapted to nova crime-fighters by joining together, but if you want to know more about those than that they exist, you’ll need to wait for their book.

    After that, there are the rules, and… well… look, it’s the Storyteller System, okay? The rules aren’t meant to actually be used, they’re meant to sit there and look pretty. Suffice to say, you can put a nova together that is on the general level of, say, Spider-Man pretty easily, and just about any common superpower you can think of is represented somewhere. Which does of course mean that most of them is meant for fighting, in a game which keeps reminding you that it’s totally not about going out and punching bank robbers in the face, but whatever…

    The most interesting thing with the superpowers are actually the Mega-Attributes, which are relatively low-key bonuses to your regular human abilities, and the first dot in each of them comes with a free “Enhancement” that is some minor superpower tied to that Attributes. And that feels really cool, because it means that novas are, first and foremost, hyper-competent at their areas of expertise, in a way that has a lot more real-world applicability than the cheesy comicbook stuff.

    Oh, and there is this thing called Taint that you can take in order to gain new powers faster, or that you might get if you strain yourself, because this is White Wolf and there has to be something that’s gradually consuming your very soul. That said, you don’t have to take Taint (or at least not much of it) if you don’t want to, and it does serve as a handy explanation for why novas end up looking and acting a bit funky.

    Stay tuned for the Storyteller’s Companion.

  • Where I Read: Daggerheart (part six)

    Where I Read: Daggerheart (part six)

    When we last left our hero, he was blowing his top over the pointlessness of money-counting in a game where nothing has a definite value. This time, we’ll tackle the actual weapons and armour setting. Will it redeem what came before? Time will tell.

    First, though, there’s a page on “player best practices,” essentially finger-wagging pointers to how you should approach the game as a player. Okay, let’s take a look.

    The first one is to embrace danger. Do not make the boring, safe choice, make the interesting but risky one. Eh, I don’t know about this. To some extent, it makes sense to emphasise that if you didn’t want to have an exciting life, you should have become a cobbler like your mom wanted you to instead. But the way this is phrased gives me less of a sense of “you’ve got to be in it to win it” than one of “stop thinking sensibly and walk into the obvious trap already!” I feel like that’s unreasonable – players should do what their characters would do, yes, but their characters can be assumed to want to survive, so you can’t let it break the game if they act prudently and with forethought.

    The second one is “use your resources,” meaning to look at your character sheet, see what points you’ve got laying around, and actually spend them. Mmm, okay. I’m on the fence about this one. On the one hand, I kind of like meta-currencies and subsystems – they’re fun to work out how to make the most of. But on the other hand, I also know that there are a lot of people who absolutely can’t even with those things, who just want to make decisions based on the fictional situation and not bother with a bunch of fiddly mechanics. I also note that this is very much in keeping with the first practice – this is very much a game where you’re not supposed to immerse yourself, where you’re supposed to remember at all time that you’re telling a story. Which is… fine, certainly there is plenty of pitfalls on the opposite end of the spectrum, but it still feels symptomatic of how afraid this game is of actual emotional intensity. I am starting to conclude that “epic” means something very different to the designers than it does to me.

    Third one, appropriately enough, to tell the story. Most of that I have no issue with – it’s about things like detailing aspects of the game world so that the GM doesn’t have to, and letting them know if there is something in particular you want your character to get a chance to do. But then it goes back to lecturing about how you should make tactically suboptimal choices if that makes for a better story, and, uhm… Thing is, any story is about people trying to accomplish something, whether that’s saving the world or finding some treasure, and they’ll absolutely be trying to make the choices that brings them closer to that goal. They won’t always succeed, but then, players won’t always be tactically brilliant either, so it evens out. In fact, all this hectoring about “think of the story, you philistine, the story!” just feels to me like a fundamental insecurity about your own mechanics, because good mechanics create the incentives for telling a certain type of story.

    The last practice is to discover your character over time. I… actually have no problem with that at all. Huh.

    Levelling up! Levelling up happens when the GM says it does, but preferably no more commonly than once every third sessions or so, and it happens to every character at the same time. Level translates into tier, with level 1 being tier 1, levels 2-4 being tier 2, levels 5-7 being tier 3 and levels 8-10 being tier 4. Every time you advance a tier, you increase your proficiency (which determines how many dice of damage you roll), and you get a new Experience. You can also only raise each core attribute once per tier, so a new tier means that you can get your minmaxing on some more.

    In addition, you can choose a two of a number of other mechanical options to improve, like extra hit points, extra damage, more Stress, higher Evasion… All pretty basic stuff, but it seems to be intended to let you build your character in roughly the direction you want to. You also get the option to multiclass, in which case you get the foundation card of one of the new class’ subclasses and access to one of its domains.

    When levelling up (not just when switching tiers), you also increase your damage threshold by one and you get to pick a new domain card at your current level or lower. You may also, if you like, switch out one of your existing domain cards for another one of equal level or lower. Okay, nice touch, makes it harder to get stuck with suboptimal builds.

    Inventory! You can only use weapons and armour that you have equipped, and you can only carry two weapons (and no armour) in addition to what you have equipped. You can switch weapons in mid-fight by taking Stress. Weapons can be “primary” and “secondary” which seems to be mostly about which one you hold in your dominant hand – a shield is a “secondary” weapon, for instance. You can attack with either weapon if you have two equipped, and some secondary weapons also give extra perks.

    You can also throw weapons, in which case you make a regular attack with them using Finesse, and do damage upon hit. After that you can’t attack with that weapon again until you reclaim it. Uhm, duh? That should go without saying – I recall something about “rulings, not rules” quite early on, and I’m pretty sure that most GMs can figure out that you can’t hit people with a sword that you just flung away…

    There are some notes on what different stats of a weapons means, nothing terribly surprising there. The only thing I’d note is that there’s a distinction between physical and magical damage, and some enemies may be resistant or immune to one or the other.

    Armour – okay, let’s see if we can get some clarity here. Armour comes with a base score, which determines how many armour boxes you get in it, and two base thresholds, which determine whether a hit inflicts 1, 2, or 3 hit points on you upon taking damage. When you’re hit, you can also mark an armour box to reduce that amount by one. Okay, that’s… a little finicky, but I guess it’s straightforward enough.

    If you’re wearing no armour at all, your damage thresholds are correspondingly low – anything that inflicts as much damage as your level takes away 2 hit points and anything that inflicts as much damage as twice your level takes away 3. And of course you have no armour boxes at all.

    There’s a note that you can reflavour armour as you like – a wizard might wear heavy armour, for instance, but it’ll actually be a variety of protective rings and amulets, and the reason why he can’t move around as fast in it is that he’s always preoccupied with maintaining the magic. Fair enough.

    Weapons are listed in tiers. I’m not sure if there is any rules significance to those, or if they’re just guidelines for when the GM should leave some of them around? Either way, there is a variety of magical ones of every tier, but at least on the lower tiers the magical ones mostly differ in what stat you use to attack with them, though there are some exceptions like the Returning Blade, that returns to your hand if you throw it. Higher up, among a ton of weapons that are just the lower-tier ones with “Improved” or “Advanced” in front of the name, there are also things like the Ego Blade, which can only be used by characters with a Presence stat of 0 or lower. Heh.

    Blackpowder weapons are a thing, they require you to mark Stress to reload them after every shot.

    Then there is a section on combat wheelchairs – nope, nope, not touching that with a ten-foot pole – and after that it goes into secondary weapons. A lot of it is simple stuff like shields (add to armour score) and short blades (add to damage of the primary weapon), but there are also some standouts like whips (can be used to force every enemy to back away from you) and grapplers (which can be used to pull enemies close).

    Armour, finally, is pretty much what we just described – they have a static threshold and a depletable number of boxes, and the heavier ones give you penalties to evasion. Higher-tier armour seems to mostly be magical and have some special widgets associated with it, though I’d kind of wish it described how it works. Like, Rosewild Armour lets you mark an armour box instead of spending Hope, so does that mean that Rosewild Armour… steels your resolve in some way? That might be nice and flavourful if it was actually commented on. You know, like it would be in a game that was actually all about the story, man, where you weren’t supposed to care about those boring mechanical bits.

    I mean, this is really what it comes down to, and why I am growing to hate this game with a considerable passion. It’s not mechanics-focused or narrative-focused, it’s got mechanics and narrative forcibly kept apart to keep the one from inconveniencing the other in any way. It’s not a single game, it’s two different games that you’re meant to play at the same time! Insofar as there is a mission statement here, it seems to be the exact opposite to the sort of down-in-the-dirt, zero-narrative, let-the-dice-tell-the-story dungeon-crawler that crusty grognards tend to espouse.

    And in fact, I think that might, in a final analysis, be what the writers mean with “epic.” They don’t mean “sweeping and mythic with high stakes,” which is what I naively assumed back in part one. They just mean “absolutely not in any way gritty or realistic.” And while I don’t always want my games gritty and realistic, any game – or any other form of expression, really – that defines itself solely as being “not that, ew!” is pretty much doomed to suck.

  • Where I Read: Daggerheart (part five)

    Where I Read: Daggerheart (part five)

    We’re into a new chapter, and this one is about how you actually play the game. It starts out by explaining that the basic flow of the game is that the GM describe what’s up, then the players and GM talk about it so that everyone really understands what’s up, then the players do stuff and the GM resolves the stuff they do. Fair enough, that is more or less how it usually works, but I still feel like it’s a pretty clunky way to explain it.

    I mean, the Powered by the Apocalypse influence is pretty noticeable in how they try to distil the flow of play into something you can describe accurately instead of just going with the grand old roleplaying tradition of, “eh, it works at our table, you’ll figure it out.” And I’m technically all for that, but, well, some things really are pretty self-explanatory and every bit of wordcount you spend on explicitly describing them just takes time and attention away from the actually complicated parts.

    … if you’re reading this from a point in the future where I’ve finally gotten around to publishing my magnum opus Monstrous Mishaps and you want to point out that I’m pretty frequently guilty of said over-explaining myself, then I can only say… yes, okay, okay, but don’t do as I do, do as I say!

    There’s a piece of example play about a thief running away after stealing from a noble, nothing very exceptional there.

    Next we’re introduced to the concept of “spotlight,” and this actually gets my attention, because it sounds halfway clever: whichever character is acting has the spotlight. Usually the GM just lets it wander around the characters present, but there are also mechanics that can decree things like, “an enemy gets the spotlight.” A sort of narrative approach to initiative, huh? Interesting, interesting… Let’s see how it works in practice.

    Anyway, there is explicitly no such thing as a turn order or a limit to how many actions you can take at once, it’s up to the GM to decide what is reasonable. Being used to PbtA, I can testify that this works a lot better than it sounds like it should. There’s also the mention that not being “locked into combat” makes it easier to contemplate non-violent actions like running away, which I have also found to be true.

    A player acts by making “player moves” that describe what their character is doing, and a GM acts by making “GM moves” which describe, well, just about anything the GM wants to happen, really. GM moves are usually made when a player either fails a roll or rolls with Fear. Ah, so there is some universal effects to the Fear mechanic. Okay, that might work. The GM can also spend Fear to make additional GM moves if he’s starting to feel bored. NPCs or environments might also have unique “Fear moves” that can be activated by spending Fear.

    We are reminded once again that players roll with a d12 “Hope Die” and a d12 “Fear Die,” and when the Hope Die is higher you “rolled with Hope” and when the Fear Die is higher you “rolled with Fear.” If you rolled with Hope you gain Hope even if you failed, and if you rolled with Fear the GM gains Fear and makes a GM move even if you succeeded. Yep, that’s clear enough. If you roll the same number on both dice, you get a critical success, which means that you succeed with Hope regardless of what the result was. You also clear a point of Stress and, if it was an attack roll, do extra damage.

    Hope can be spent to assist allies with their rolls, to get the bonus from an Experience, or activate a Hope Feature. There are apparently two different ways to assist allies, “Help an Ally” and “Initiate a Tag Team Roll.” We’ll get both described in more detail later. You can only have 6 Hope at any given time, so you’re expected to spend it freely.

    Evasion gets another mention, and apparently it’s not just physical defence, it’s what an enemy rolls against for any sort of hostile effect against you. Hmm, okay.

    Hit Points and Damage Thresholds! Okay, here it gets complicated… But basically, you have a certain number of Hit Points, and you also have two Damage Thresholds, one Major and one Severe. If you take some damage, but it’s less than your Major Threshold, you lose 1 HP. If you take damage between your Major and Severe Thresholds, you lose 2 HP. And if you take damage at or above your Severe Threshold, you lose 3 HP. That… seems like a complicated way of doing it, but okay then. Lose all your Hit Points, and you have to make a “death move.”

    Stress is basically mental Hit Points. You can mark Stress as part of a special ability, as we have seen in several places already, or the GM can inflict it on you when things go badly, or require that you mark Stress to succeed at something you otherwise might have failed at. When you’ve marked all your Stress, you become “vulnerable,” which we’ll find out more of later, and also any further Stress you would have marked gets transformed into Hit Points instead. Fair enough.

    There’s a fairly long and unnecessary description of how to make a roll that just goes over everything we’ve already covered, but it does specify that rolling with Hope and Fear does change the outcome of success and failures. Essentially, success with Hope is “yes, and,” success with Fear is “yes, but,” failure with Hope is “no, but” and failure with Fear is “no, and.” And I guess a critical success is something like, “yes, and even more stuff,” but you get what I mean. Somewhat charming, and I can see the appeal, but my experience with trying to come up with layers of success and failure for Storyteller games have made me a bit weary of that much granularity. Oh well.

    There is a sidebar clarifying that there is no such thing as a roll with no consequences – the story always changes in some way, for the better or the worse or a little of both. That much I can get behind, yes.

    Okay, here is the “Tag Team” roll. Basically, once per session you can spend 3 Hope and explain how you and another player perform some kind of combo move. You both roll, and then you choose which roll you want to keep and have apply to both of you. If the action was an attack and you succeeded, you both roll damage and add it up. There is also a more standard “Group Action roll” where someone takes the lead and everyone else can make separate rolls that provide bonuses for the leader’s roll if they succeed.

    There’s a whole lot of text about how to make a attack roll, but it’s all stuff we’ve seen before. The attack gives you which die to roll, your proficiency tells you how many dice of that type to roll, and you add any bonuses to the result. It’s noted again that damage isn’t subtracted straight from Hit Points in Daggerheart, it’s compared with Thresholds to calculate the number of Hit Points lost, and armour and resistances also factor into it in some way that is yet to be revealed.

    Reaction rolls are a special sort of roll that are done when someone else is in the spotlight – mainly, to resist some action of theirs. They don’t generate Hope or Fear, but otherwise work as normal.

    Advantages and disadvantages on rolls… just mean that you add 1d6 or subtract 1d6. Okay.

    The style of play during battle is described, and here I get a bit confused, because now it seems like the spotlight always shifts to the GM whenever a player fails or rolls with Fear (or when the GM spends Fear to take the spotlight). Is that specific to combat, because I feel like this was described differently earlier? But okay, I guess that works.

    Domain cards! You can hold five cards in your “hand” at any given time, while the rest are going to be in your “vault.” The ones in your hand you can use normally, the ones in your vault are inaccessible for now but can be moved back into your hand when you rest or if you’re willing to spend Stress to get them. You might also permanently lose cards, in which case they are removed from play. When you level up, you also get to switch out one card, presumably so you can start using your cool new tricks immediately.

    Conditions! There are three universal conditions that can affect play: Hidden, Restrained, and Vulnerable. Hidden means that you’re out of all foes’ immediate sight, so they have a disadvantage on any rolls against you. Restrained means that you can’t move, but you can still take actions that don’t require you to move from the spot. Vulnerable  (that’s the one that happens when you’re all Stressed out, you might recall) means that you’re somehow off balance or on the spot, so all rolls against you have an advantage.

    The GM decides how a player can get out of a condition, and it may or may not require a roll. An NPC can always free themselves from a condition when they have the spotlight without needing to roll or spend for it, but then they have to pass the spotlight back to a player.

    Countdowns are mentioned as being a way to keep track of when something bad is going to happen, and they can tick down based on whatever criteria the GM sets – any time an action gets made, for example, any time there’s downtime, or any time a player rolls with Fear. We’ll learn more about countdowns later, apparently.

    There is a section on ranges. Apparently this game mixes the lackadaisical modern approach, where ranges come in a few loose categories like “within arm’s reach” and “within a stone’s throw,” and the grognardy old-school approach where ranges are carefully measured up and woe betide anyone who gets an inch wrong. Specifically, each category is given a precise number of inches on the tabletop. This… seems like the absolute worst of both worlds, frankly. And again, what happened to being all about Teh Story?! I should not have to break out the measuring tape for a game where it’s all about the fluffy feelz!

    Muttermuttermutter… anyway, you can move anywhere that’s Close to you as part of another action, but if you want to move further than that you need to succeed at a roll and the GM decides how hard it will be. Enemies can likewise move within their Close range freely, or can move within their Very Far range by using up their spotlight but without needing to roll for it.

    There are rules for cover (disadvantage to rolls against you) and for targeting groups (all members of the group has to be within Very Close range of whatever you aim for) and line of sight and I swear that there is something about all of this that makes me see red. There shouldn’t be all these fiddly rules! Not in a game where everything in the setting itself (what there is of one) is so fluid and undefined! The rules and setting are meant to match, guys! They’re meant to reinforce each other! If you want to go loosey-goosey that’s fine, and if you want to nail down every stray variable that’s also fine, but pick one!

    Aaaarrrrgghh. Isn’t this chapter done yet?

    Gold! Gold is counted in handfuls, bags, and chests, with 10 handfuls to a bag and 10 bags to a chest. But, it also notes, there aren’t actually any prices set for anything in this book, so it’s up to each GM how much gold to hand out and how much to charge for anything.

    But.

    But.

    Buuuuuuut.

    BUT THEN WHY EVEN BOTHER WITH AAAARRGGGGGH AAAARRGGGGGH AAAARRGGGGGH AAAARRGGGGGH AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRGGGGGH!!!!!!

    Sorry, sorry, I think I just marked my 6th Stress box and became Vulnerable… But I can do this. There’s just downtime and death left in this part of the chapter.

    Downtime! You can take a short rest or a long rest, but once you’ve taken three short rests the next one has to be a long’un. Each option gives you access to different downtime moves, of which you can perform two during each downtime. They involve things like regaining Hit Points, clearing Stress, repairing armour, and gaining Hope. The downtime moves for long rests are, naturally, a little stronger than the ones for short rests – more Hit Points regained, more Stress reduced, etc. However, whenever you stop moving, the GM also gains Fear, 1d4 at a short rest and 1d4+the number of players for a long rest. Works for me. You can also work at some project, like crafting a weapon or something.

    Death! When you mark your last Hit Point, you have three choices. You can go out in a “blaze of glory”: choose to perform one action of your choice that automatically gets a critical success, then you die. You can “risk it all,” in which case you make a roll and if you roll with Hope you regain some Hit Points and can continue, but if you roll with Fear you die. Or you can “avoid death,” in which case you get knocked unconscious and maybe permanently get your maximum amount of Hope reduced by 1.

    Okay, I have nothing to complain about in the last two sections. But man, this isn’t getting any easier.

  • Where I Read: Daggerheart (part four)

    Where I Read: Daggerheart (part four)

    All right, communities. They can represent either a location, an ethos, or a common goal, meaning that more than one could apply to your character’s background, but you should choose the one that has most defined their outlook. Also, it’s all very complicated and nuanced and you should consider your character’s inner-most delicate feelings and THIS IS A GAME WHERE YOU CAN PLAY A WALKING FUNGUS WITH A TURTLE SHELL WILL YOU PLEASE STOP PRETENDING THAT IT’S SOME KIND OF HIGH ART?!!!

    Sorry, sorry, I just couldn’t hold it in anymore. Honestly, it’s probably a miracle that it took this long for this readthrough to turn into an angry rant, usually that happens on circa page four…

    Okay, let’s try to get through this without further outbursts…

    Highborne communities… well, they’re nobles, basically. High and mighty, like to think that they’re better than the people who are really not their sort of people. They get an advantage on rolls to negotiate with those impressed by titles and wealth, which, let’s face it, are a not inconsiderable portion of the population. A suggested variation is that the aristocracy might actually be a magocracy, with nobles being those with magical powers.

    Loreborne communities are all about learning and skill, and of furiously politicking to rise through the ranks. Guilds and schools are both typical Lorebornes. They get an advantage to rolls to have read about something in a book at some point.

    Orderborne communities are ones that be described as an “order,” a group of people who think that they stand for something and are very serious about it. Clerical and knightly orders are the obvious examples. Once per day, they get to roll a d20 as their Hope Die if they can explain how what they’re doing is in keeping with their beliefs.

    Ridgeborne communities are sturdy hill folk with a chip on their shoulder about how those damn dirty flatlanders can’t be trusted. That’s about it, they live in the mountains and hills where most people don’t wanna live. They get an advantage on traversing and surviving in harsh environments.

    Seaborne communities live by and off of the water, as sailors, fishermen or pirates. Some might even be nomads who live their whole lives on their ships. Every time they roll with Fear, they get a token that they can trade in for a bonus on another roll, because they “can sense the ebb and flow of life.”

    Slyborne communities are crooks, your basic thieves and scoundrels from the wrong side of the magic-powered train tracks. They lie, scheme, and get in trouble with the law. They get an advantage to rolls to detect lies, hide, or negotiate with criminals. There’s also some flavour descriptions of gambling dens, black markets and hideouts with hidden escape routes.

    Underborne communities live underground, either in your typical fantasy gigantic cave system or just in a hole in the ground like a hobbit. There are some examples of houses hanging from the roof in the silk of giant spiders, or being built into the base of stalagmites. They get an advantage on rolls to either spot or hide in an area with poor light.

    Wanderborne communities are fully nomadic. Examples offered are people traveling in great big air balloons, piloting kite-drawn skimmers across the sea, or just walking on their own two feet and living in portable dwellings. They get the ability to spend Hope to reach into their pack and take out precisely what they needed for the situation they’re currently in.

    Wildborne communities live deep in the woods to commune with Nature. Possibilities include tree houses, hollowed-out trunks, or homes built into giant mushrooms. They get an advantage on rolls to move without being heard.

    So that’s all of them. Okay, so none of that is terrible or anything, and some of the flavour ideas are nice, certainly it’s more interesting to have the players come upon a village of dwarves living in giant mushrooms than just have them stumble on yet another community of dirt farmers, but I don’t really like how non-mutually-exclusive a lot of these are. Honestly, I feel like these are the ones that should have been possible to combine for additional customization, not the ancestries. For instance, a pirate should be a mix of Slyborne and Seaborne, a scion of a magical overclass should be Highborne and Loreborne, a monk from a mountain monastery should be Ridgeborne and Orderborne… I feel like that would have made for more interesting and nuanced characters than being the bastard offspring of a turtle and a toadstool… Oh well.

    The chapter ends with a long teary-eyed lecture on how to play disabled characters Sensitively, and I have decided that I’m not going to touch it with a ten-foot pole. Instead, I’ll try to get back into the spirit of things by trying out the character creation system.

    So, first up I need a class and a subclass. Let’s go with Wizard, of the School of Learning. I’m all about the utility spells! I’m instructed to take my subclass’ foundation card – ah, okay, so you do get it for free, I missed that earlier – which in my case means I can take an extra domain card, and also I can take Stress instead of spending Hope when I want to invoke an Experience. Because my brain is all big and shit, see.

    Further fringe benefits: I have the ability to perform flavour magic tricks at will, and when I roll a number I like (let’s say 5) on a die I gain Hope or clear Stress. I have the ability to make an enemy reroll a successful attack against me by spending 3 Hope. Naa na na na – na na – na na – can’t touch this…

    I also get either a book I’m trying to translate or a small, harmless elemental pet. Okay, I decide that I travel alongside Sparky, my pet fire-imp. There are also a bunch of questions, and I’ll get to those, but let’s put the character together a bit more first.

    Hum hum, I start with level 1, makes sense… Choose my name and pronouns, my name is Scielbald Fleetflipper and I’m a boy-frog (at the moment, at least – us frogs are known to switch depending on environmental factors…). Ancestry, as I just alluded to I’m a Ribbet, because while I’m not as psyched about that as I started out being I still think it might be fun.

    Community… well, there it gets a little more interesting, doesn’t it? I could really double down on the nerd angle and go with Loreborne, but that feels a little too boring. So let’s say I’m Seaborne. I grew up among the fisher-frogs on the banks of the Great Gahoola Lake, until I was apprenticed by a wandering wizard. That’ll get me that ability to gather up bonus from Fear, making me more mystical.

    Character Traits… well, my spellcasting comes from Knowledge, so I’d better take +2 in that. I also think I’m pretty good at hopping and skipping, so let’s put the +1s in Agility and Finesse. My spindly little frog-limbs don’t lend themselves to heavy lifting, so let’s put the -1 in Strength. That leaves the +0s for Presence and Instinct. I’m a little too bookish to be good at social niceties and noticing what’s going on around me.

    As a Wizard, I start with 5 Hit Points and Evasion 11, and like all characters I start with 6 Stress boxes and 2 points of Hope.

    Equipment! Apparently I get suggestions for equipment in my character guide. I had to spend some time trying to find my character guide, but it was hiding at the back of the book. It apparently suggests I start with a quarterstaff and leather armour. Sounds good. I also get a bunch of other standard adventurer stuff like rope and rations. Fine, fine – equipment always bores me.

    Okay, so now it’s time to answer those background questions. Let’s go find them.

    “What responsibilities did your community once count on you for? How did you let them down?” I was meant to follow in my father’s flipper-steps as the wiseman and lorekeeper of our village, and I was only meant to study enough magic to be more useful. However, once I saw the wonders of the world outside, I could never bring myself to return.

    “You’ve spent your life searching for a book or object of great significance. What is it, and why is it so important to you?” I am searching for the Frozen Egg of Eugastine the Truth-Croaker. She was a great hero of the Gahoolan lands, but her bloodline has been extinguished over the years. Legend has it that one of her eggs was preserved in magical statis, and if it could be found and revived, the heir of Eugastine might yet return. If I could do that, it would prove that my wanderings were ultimately in my family’s interest, and I would be vindicated and forgiven!

    “You have a powerful rival. Who are they, and why are you so determined to defeat them?” Ah, that would be that puffed-up buffoon Martinus Bloodwart! He’s always getting ahead of me, snatching up tomes of eldritch lore by offering prices that I can match. He seems to think that the High Art of magic is something you can buy your way to. Well, I’ll show him that the Gift cannot be bought for gold!

    Next I choose two Experiences. Let’s go with “Lake-Town Shaman” and “Travel the World in Search of Elusive Lore.” That sums up my main conflict pretty well.

    Then I need to choose my domain cards. Usually I’d choose two from the first-level cards for Codex and Splendour, but my foundation card gives me an extra one, so three in total. The Codex cards are all “grimoires,” so they give me several spells apiece. The ones I can choose between are Book of Ava (lets you knock people back, strengthen armour, and summon an ice spike), Book of Illiat (put people to sleep, shoot magic missiles, and speak to people telepathically), and Book of Tyfar (set people on fire, conjure a mist, and telekinetically lift things). For Splendour I can take Bolt Beacon (damage an enemy, and also they glow in the dark and get easy to hit), Mending Touch (heal) and Reassurance (let an ally reroll their dice).

    Well, first of all, this is… really kind of flavourless. I mean, it’s pretty clearly repackaged D&D spells, but D&D spells are quirky and fun. These ones barely bother to tell you what they do other than strictly mechanical effects. Oh, all right, all right. I guess I’ll take Book of Illiat, Book of Tyfar, and Mending Touch. That’ll give me some nice tricks up my sleeve.

    The last part is connections to other players, but as I have no other players, I guess I’m done. Well… I guess I can see myself playing this character, sure? There’s some quirky appeal to him, he’s got a nice range of abilities (almost a little too many, but it’s within reasonable limits), and there’s fuel for me to ham it up and get over-enthusiastic about stuff, which is really my forte as a player. But I can’t say that I’m all too psyched, either. It’s all passable, but it’s also all kind of… meh.

    I can’t believe they took the fun out of playing a humanoid frog…

  • Where I Read: Daggerheart (part three)

    Where I Read: Daggerheart (part three)

    Okay, so classes. First there’s a page repeating a lot of what we’ve already learned, but it also mentions a few new things. For instance, every class has a Class Hope Feature which lets them spend Hope to do something. Each subclass also has a Foundation Feature, Specialisation Feature, and Mastery Feature, though you don’t get those for free, you have to take them as a card when you level up. Okay then.

    First up is the Bard. They’re charismatic and slightly bitchy arteeeests, and their domains are Grace and Codex – so they know mysterious lore and can express it really prettily, basically. Their Hope Feature is that they can spend Hope to distract an enemy, and their Class Feature is that once per session they can give the party a rah-rah pep talk that grants each other PC a d6 that they can roll, once, to add to another roll or to reduce Stress.

    They can also choose to start the game with either an unsent letter (ooooh) or a… romance novel. Okay, so again I’m noticing that the cutesy postmodern humour kind of clashes with the stated intention of making the game feel epic and evocative… though that is, I will admit, a problem I have with a lot of modern fantasy. The Dragon Prince, I’m looking at you!

    Bards can be Troubadours or Wordsmiths. Troubadours have some abilities related to healing and bestowing Hope, while Wordsmiths have some advantages in terms of boosting actions and reducing Stress. So basically the one is about getting people to chill, and the other is about getting them to excel.

    Next up are Druids, who are your basic nature nuts. Their domains are Arcana and Sage, so they practice natural magic of the forest. They can turn into animals by taking Stress, or by using their Hope Feature that lets them spend Hope to do it instead. They can also pull off minor cosmetic acts of nature-magic, like making flowers bloom.

    They can be Wardens of the Elements, in which case they can channel one of the elements in combat for some perks, like doing damage to anyone who strikes them for fire or raising their resistance to injury with earth. Any Warden of the Elements can channel any element, but only one at the time. Alternatively, they can be Wardens of Renewal, who can restore Hit Points and clear Stress in people.

    There are a couple of pages of animals you can turn into, along with special rules for them. It all looks kind of fiddly, but it certainly makes Druids pretty adaptive – even sticking to just the ones you have access to at level one, that’s a pretty big bag of tricks.

    The Guardian! As mentioned before, this dude’s into Valour and Blade. He protects people, and his Hope Feature is that he can spend Hope to clear out Armour Slots. I guess that means they can take more of a beating. Their Class Feature is that they can turn themselves Unstoppable, during which time they take less damage and do more damage. Each time they do damage, they increase the amount of extra damage they do, but once that reaches a maximum, they drop out of Unstoppable again. Okay, so that’s kind of cool.

    Guardians can be Stalwarts or Vengeances. Stalwarts can tank even better, while Vengeances have higher Stress tolerance and can also spend Stress to cause people who attack them take some damage in return. On higher levels, Vengeances can also select a target to prioritise, and on attacks on them they can swap the results of their Hope and Fear Dice (so they gain Hope no matter what the roll is, I suppose).

    Rangers are cunning hunters and outdoorsmen who use the wilderness to their advantage and fight pragmatically, as showed by their domains of Bone and Sage. Their Hope Feature is that they can spend Hope to make a successful attack hit three different enemies at once. Their Class Feature is that they can mark an enemy for takedown, which means that that enemy suffers Stress when struck and also that the Ranger can turn a failed attack into a successful one, though at the cost of unmarking them.

    Rangers can be Beastbounds and get an animal companion, who levels up as they do, our they can be Wayfinders, giving them more bonuses on hitting things and some extra skill in, well, finding their way to places. There’s a page of rules just for the animal companions, who need to be fleshed-out characters in their own rights…

    … I’m trying to keep an open mind here, but I’m increasingly feeling like this game was written by people who felt like D&D 5E wasn’t fiddly enough. Which, okay, if that’s what floats your boat then more power to you, but… how does that fit in with the whole “focus on the story more so than the mechanics”?

    Rogues… well, they’re what you’d expect. They sneak around and stab people in the back. Their domains are Midnight and Grace, for hiding and lying. Their Hope Feature lets them spend Hope for a bonus to Evasion, and their Class Feature lets them remain hidden even from enemies who should be rights be able to spot them, right up until they attack.

    Rogues can be Nightwalkers or Syndicates. Nightwalkers can teleport from one shadow to another and hit harder when they’re Vulnerable (which we don’t know what it means yet, but I guess it’s meant to give them a “cornered rat fights twice as hard” style), while Syndicates automatically know someone in every new town they come to who they can ask for a favour.

    Next up is Seraphs, our holy warriors. They have Splendour for the healy-healy and Valour for protecting the innocents. Their Hope Feature is a limited healing, and their Class Feature is that they get a bunch of bonuses per session that they can use to boost allies’ rolls, reduce incoming damage, or give them Hope. They can be Divine Wielders, in which case they can fling their melee weapons at enemies and then cause them to return to their hands, or Winged Sentinels, in which case they can, well, fly.

    Sorcerers we have already dealt with in the form of that sample character. They are people with inherent magic that runs in their family. Their domains are Arcane (for inherent magic) and Midnight (for illusion). Their Hope Feature lets them reroll damage dice for damage-dealing spells, and their Class Features lets them sense magic, create minor illusions, and discard a domain card to gain Hope or enhance a damage-dealing spell. They can have an Elemental Origin, in which case they can do some tricks with the elements, or a Primal Origin, in which case they can enhance magic (mostly magic that deals damage – yeah, I’m sensing that Sorcerers are very much meant to be a DPS class).

    Warriors are more big fighty types, though they have a bit more of a “swordsmaster” or “warrior philosopher” vibe than just “I hit people onna head.” Their domains are Blade, for the swording, and Bone, for the intelligent swording. Their Hope Feature is a bonus to attack, and their Class Feature is that they get an attack of opportunity when their enemies try to retreat from them.

    Warriors can have the Call of the Brave or the Call of the Slayer. The Call of the Brave gets Hope and Stress-relief when failing a roll with Fear or when performing a ritual before engaging a superior opponent. So basically, you’re at your best when you’re doing something that’s clearly a bad idea but you’re going to do it anyway because it’s HONOURABLE!!! Heh. I kind of like that, to be honest. The Call of the Slayer can build up bonuses every time they roll with Hope that they can then spend for a powerful strike. Hiyah! Okay, I’ll grant you that I like this class a good bit better than the standard D&D Fighters…

    Wizards, finally! They are nerds who can do magic because they’ve done their homework. Their domains are Codex (for magic books) and Splendour (for healing, since in this game they’re the ones who do that, too). Which makes sense, honestly – like I’ve said before, I don’t really get the whole D&D convention whereby wizards can’t heal. Curing diseases is, like, the first thing that people expect from a wizard! After that it’s love potions, fertility, and putting curses on people you don’t like, in no particular order.

    Anyway, the Wizards’ Hope Feature is, somewhat interestingly, the ability to make an enemy reroll an attack or damage roll. Their Class Feature is that they can do minor magic tricks and that whenever they roll a particular number on their Hope and Fear Dice, they gain Hope or lose Stress, since they’ve spotted an auspicious sign. That’s sort of neat.

    Wizards can be of the School of Knowledge, in which case they can draw additional domain cards and can use their Experiences by gaining Stress instead of by spending Hope. Or they can be of the School of War, in which case they get extra HP and when they succeed at an attack while rolling with Fear they do extra damage.

    Next up is ancestry. There’s a lot of frankly tiresome hand-waving about how everyone is a unique individual first and foremost and yay the brotherhood of sentient beings and look, we’re totally not racist, honest! Yes, yes… Anyway, each ancestry gets two features, so let’s dive right in.

    Clanks are robots or golems – some sort of manufactured creature, either way. They can look pretty much like anything. Their Ancestry Features are that they were built for a purpose that aligns with one of their Experiences, so they get an additional bonus when using that Experience. Also, they rest up faster than feeble organic creatures.

    Drakona are humanoid dragons. They can look more draconic or more humanoid – from just being people with scales and sharp teeth to having tails, snouts, back ridges, and vestigial wings. They have protective scales and can breathe some element, like fire, lightning, or ice.

    Dwarves are… well… Dwarves. They can embed gemstones in their skin, though, for extra sparkliness. Also, their nails are tough and stonelike, and dwarves like to polish them and carve them into facets. Their features are about taking damage really well.

    Elves, likewise, nothing much to see here. They do develop a “mystic form” when they devote themselves to the protection of the natural world, though, which can manifest as them having freckles that twinkle like stars or ivy growing in their hair. I’ll give the game this much, there has been a considerable effort spent on impressive visuals… Anyway, Elves can get an advantage on initiative and can perform an extra “downtime move” while resting.

    Fairies, on the other hand, are a little different from their usual depiction. Here, they are actually insectoid to varying extents – much like the Drakona, how much varies between “pretty girl with chitin instead of skin” to “big humanoid beetle.” They all have some variety of insect wings, though. They also range in size from two feet to seven feet. They can spend Hope to reroll their own or an ally’s action.

    Fauns are goat-men with powerful legs and stately horns. In much the same way as the Fairies and Drakona, they range from “human with horns and hooves” to “goat that inexplicably walks around on two legs.” They can jump and kick really well.

    Firbolgs are honestly pretty similar to Fauns, in that they’re half human and half horned animal, only the animal part is usually something a bit more dignified than a goat.  Firbolgs who look like half-bulls are also known as minotaurs. By any name, they have a 1 in 6 chance of shrugging off Stress gain and also get a bonus to charging enemies.

    Fungril are… okay, I think I’m spotting the theme here. They’re mushroom-people. They grow elaborate caps on their heads that they can decorate in various ways. Their Features are that they can speak telepathically (through their “mycelial array”) to speak with other Fungril, and by touching a corpse they can extract one memory from it.

    Galapa are turtles. Okay, I think this is getting a little old now, and I’m not even halfway through the list… They have shells that offer them protection from injury, and they can retract into them to be even safer (though then they can’t move). Galapa shells can be carved into decorative shapes or reinforced with metal, though it’s a slow and painful process.

    Giants are big dudes, though maybe not as big as you’d expect – they’re somewhere between six and nine feet tall. They are born without any eyes, and new ones may appear or disappear on their faces throughout their childhood, with them finally ending up with between one and three of them. They get extra HP and reach.

    Goblins are little dudes with great big eyes and ears. They also come in every colour of the rainbow. They are good at keeping their balance and spotting danger. Gotta admit that the picture of the little Goblin witch on this page is kind of adorable…

    Halflings are small people with prominent ears, noses, and feet. The fluff text mentions them possessing acute hearing and smell, but that’s not part of their Ancestry Features – instead, they may reroll a 1 on their Hope Die. Also, at the start of extra session, everyone in a party who has a Halfling in it gains 1 Hope, because halflings are good luck. Heh. That’s kind of nice.

    Humans are maybe not quite Humans as you know them – they apparently regularly live to be a hundred, so I guess Daggerheart Humans are supposed to be one of those older and nobler races that modern man is but a fallen remnant of, sort of thing. Otherwise they are what you’d expect – they can take more Stress, because of the good ol’ human spirit, and they can reroll failed Experience rolls, because they adapt well to new situations.

    Infernis are humanoids with horns… Seriously? Another kind? That’s three now. Okay, I am definitely starting to feel like this game has a clutter problem. Save some for the supplements, guys, that’s where the money is! Oh well. Infernis are descendants of demons from the Circles Below. Aside from horns, they also have fangs, and occasionally forked or arrow-shaped tails. They look demonic, and when they get angry they start looking extra demonic, enough to get a bonus to intimidate. They can also take Stress to turn a roll with Fear into a roll with Hope, because they fear nothing.

    Katari are cat people. You know the drill by now, they can look more like cats or less like cats, they can look like different sorts of cats, bla bla bla. I mean, I do approve of this approach from an ease-of-play standpoint, because it means you don’t have to internalise a ton of specific lore – you can just say that Katari are cat people, and whatever people picture when they hear “cat people,” that’s perfectly correct. I’m just kind of losing interest in all these ancestries that are all “human mixed with something else” and carefully avoiding specifics. Oh well… Katari are very agile and have retractable claws.

    Orcs have tusks and green, grey, blue or pink skin. Some have no body hair at all, while others are giant fur balls. They get extra resistant to attacks when they’re down to their last HP, and they can gore people with their tusks.

    Ribbets are the frogs. See, I was all set to be excited about them, but the game sort of ran the formula into the ground before we could get here… Variations include webbed fingers, warty or smooth skin, and any number of vibrant skin colours and patterns. They have a long prehensile tongue and can breathe underwater.

    Finally, Simiah! They’re monkeys or apes. They’re good at dodging blows and climbing. I refuse to spend more words on them than that.

    There are also rules about being a mix of two ancestries, because Lord knows we don’t have enough choices as it is… It’s pretty basic, though, you just pick one Ancestry Feature from each of your two ancestries. So if you really want to be a walking fungus with a turtle shell, that’s a character you can play here.

    Next part is communities. Which I seem to recall there are at least not that damn many of.