by Jesse Ross For the past year, I’ve been dreaming up an OSR game based on the rules of my tragic fantasy RPG, Trophy. An on-the-rails horror storygame might not make the most obvious starting point for an open-ended, gold-grabbing adventure. But for a world full of monsters and with desperation fueling every action, I could think of no more perfect foundation.
Because of its heritage, Trophy Gold is an entirely new take on OSR gaming. It keeps the spirit of old school D&D, but uses totally different mechanics to get there. With so many excellent old school systems to choose from, why use Trophy Gold? 1. Trophy Gold is light. Character creation takes five minutes (or less, if you use Ramanan’s incredible treasure-hunter generator), the rules are simple, and you’re only ever rolling d6s (though you’ll need two different colors of dice for maximum effect). Everything about your character is minimal but evocative. Your class (which is made up of a background and an occupation) tells you who you were, who you are, and what you’re skilled in. But it only takes 7 words. For example, you might be an "Escaped Cultist (deception) Oracle (gods, rituals, trances)" or a "Cured Beastbitten (transformation) Ranger (beasts, hunting, traps)". Rituals—the spells of Trophy Gold—are also minimal. They’re all level-less and anyone can cast them, which simplifies their management even as it increases their danger. They’re also all described in just a single line of text. This isn’t me being a lazy designer. This is because I want GMs and players to negotiate the actual effects at the table. Trophy—and Trophy Gold by extension—is all about collaborative play. Let’s take the Trophy Gold equivalent of the standard Fireball spell: Kindle. The entire description for Kindle is just "produce fire from oneself." That’s all it says. How much fire? Is it projectile? Can I control it? I don’t know! Work with the GM to see what makes sense! Trophy Gold trusts the creativity of players to do awesome things with a few simple words. 2. Trophy Gold is risky. Every die roll asks you if you want to risk your mind or body to improve your odds of success. Push yourself, put your five or fewer hit points on the line, and try to achieve your goal. Make a bad roll? Push your luck and try again. Most pure OSR games emphasize that combat should be quick and deadly. Trophy Gold makes combat quick by collapsing a fight down to the equivalent of one or two Morale rolls, adjusting the difficulty to account for taking advantage of terrain, special tools, and prior knowledge. It makes combat deadly by increasing the odds of injury the longer combat goes on, making death a very likely outcome if fights stretch beyond two rolls. Trophy Gold also mechanizes the chaos of combat. Having more allies in a fight increases the chance of a quick victory, but also increases the likelihood of death by friendly fire. And if you get into a battle where you’re in over your head, as an individual, you can easily get out of it. However, to do so, you need to pick one of your allies to remain in the fight and expose them to even more danger. 3. Trophy Gold is tangible. Trophy Gold is full of elements that bring changes in the in-game world alive at the table. When you encounter some strange new monster and live to tell about it, you record it in a special document called a bestiary. The bestiary outlives all the characters, allows for in-town research to learn more about the monster, and makes future battles against the same kind of monster easier for any character who has access to the bestiary. When you do kill a monster, you don’t just mark down XP. Instead, you get a handful of dice to roll when you get back to town to see how much gold you get for its meat and bones and scaly hide. And when you work your way through a grimy dungeon or haunted forest, you get actual, physical tokens to track your progress or trade in to discover valuables. Of course, what is given can be taken away: every roll you make to explore further risks losing all your tokens, and any in-game progress you’ve made. 4. Trophy Gold is weird. It might be swords-and-magic fantasy, but in Trophy Gold, you’re not Tolkienesque elves and dwarves. Play as a human, sure. Or play as a:
The world of Trophy has lots of strangeness you can pull into Trophy Gold too: child-sized earth elementals that mine the deepest depths against their will, and dragon-dungeon hybrids that teach you space-warping magic. Anything available in any of the published Trophy expansions is right at home in Trophy Gold. 5. Trophy Gold is thematic. The game comes with a framework and a set of tools for GMs to convert existing modules into adventures that emphasize theme and narrative. Start with your favorite old school module and a couple of hours of game prep time, and end up with a collection of thrilling movie-like set pieces that are easy to run at the table. 6. Trophy Gold is hackable. Like all good OSR games, Trophy Gold is built on a series of independent but interconnected elements that can be adapted and swapped as needed, to make the game you want. Don’t like the way the Trophy Gold encounter tracking works? No problem. Swap it out for for Carapace, or Progress Clocks, or good old fashioned “strict time records.” The whole game is also under a Creative Commons license (CC-BY), so you can make, distribute, and sell your own games based on Trophy Gold. Please do, and then come tell me what cool stuff you’re dreaming up! This is a project that I’ve been itching to bring to life for a long time now, and I’m super excited to share it with you all. You can get Trophy Gold in Codex: Gold right now by backing the Gauntlet’s Patreon at the $6 level.
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by Kyle Thompson, Keeper of the Light of the Peerless Star (@wiegraf_) A Strategic Withdrawal The period since I wrote the last design diary has been difficult for me in terms of my life situation, but also in terms of development of All Systems Nominal. I ran the game at GauntletCon as a one shot, and that began to reveal a lot of fundamental flaws with the design that I talked about in a vlog on my YouTube channel: While the combat system was every bit as good as I thought, the character elements fell flat, despite a lot of spotlight management and eliciting questions on my part as the GM. This was a recurring problem with my earlier playtests, and suggested something needed to be done. I also found that I wasn’t driving the gritty point of the game home enough, and that was a result of a lack of clarity on what it was supposed to be about. Digging into the design more and starting to write the GM materials for the game made me reflect on what I was trying to say with it, and that process forced me to start to outline some major changes I wanted to make. These feelings were only reinforced by reading Jack de Quidt’s excellent interview with Simon Stålenhag, which helped me think more deeply about the themes I wanted to express. I started to want the game to do the same thing for players it had forced me to do for myself. This meant writing a game that would help players to take a good long look at their attitude towards war and war machines. With some inspiration boosting my spirits I started to work on these revisions, but the workload of my day job, preparations for a big move, and commitments to other projects started to take priority, and I wasn’t able to keep up my writing. Feedback from other playtests confirmed a lot of my instincts, but also brought to my attention how poorly formatted the text is, and how its original terseness continues to hurt it in terms of comprehension and ease of use. All these things were good to learn, but in my current state of exhaustion they were problems I could not address. The game needs a thorough tear down and reassembly, and that is beyond my current capacity to do. After Action Reports So what have I learned from half a year of work on the game? What would I do differently in the future? Know Your Audience The fourth edition of Dungeons & Dragons was a notorious flop, partially because it diverged from what its audience expected and wanted. Design of D&D 5e started with, and was supported by an extensive process of market research and community feedback, a contributing factor to its massive success. Even for those of us without Hasbro’s marketing might backing us up, this is a valuable lesson to keep in mind. By running related games, asking questions, running surveys, and having discussions, you can get a sense for whether there is a match between your design intentions and your audiences’ desires and capacities. I put many dozens of hours into reviewing existing mecha games before writing All Systems Nominal, but I did not take the time to learn enough about my audience, and this lead to a lot of design pitfalls. In many ways it felt like repeating the infamous D&D 4e mistake. There is no such thing as perfect market research, but at least consider the effort it can save you down the line. Know Yourself It’s also possible to write a game as a pure passion project, regardless of market research, and attract people with your passion for what you’re doing. Every game design has a core that is both conceptual and emotional, and if both aspects of this core are strong it can really hit. This is something deeper and more meaningful than player experience goals. It informs not only how play is structured but structures the process of writing itself. The design of All Systems Nominal was well ordered conceptually, but it lacked emotional strength, and this was evident in playtesting. A game is a technical construct, but it’s also a lot more than that, and a lack of emotional clarity in design can really sink a project. Staying in touch with the emotional core of your project means practicing self-care actively, and engaging in introspection about what you are feeling about your process and where that is leading you. Very often pursuit of formal design sophistication is a way of avoiding emotional honesty with the design process, and leads to a mediocre product. If you find your core slipping out of your grasp then pause, practice self-care, and try to understand why it is escaping you. Express Yourself But ultimately if your game is going to be driven by your passion for its core, you still need to communicate that core to your audience. I began designing All Systems Nominal by trying to create a design scaffold similar to World of Dungeons that would allow players to express their own passion for the subject matter of mecha fiction. I subsequently learned that a successful game design in this space was going to need a lot more handholding than the scaffolding approach could provide. The text was not expressing enough to fire the imaginations of the players. That required me to revisit and redefine my fundamental design objectives, but the text of the game retained many traces of its original toolbox approach. If the core of your game changes, make sure its expression in the text changes to match. This is very hard work, which leads to my final point. Avoid the Sunk Cost Fallacy Never think that the money and energy you have put into a game automatically justifies its further development. Only your engagement with the core of the design can justify continuing to work on the game. If that core changes, seriously consider whether continuing the project is doing you good, or if you ought to work on something else instead. It is easy enough to throw your hands up and start something else in order to escape feelings of frustration or inadequacy, but let yourself look past that and see if and how you still care about the core of the game. I honestly believe that All Systems Nominal will one day be a good game, I can see something in it that I still care about, but I also know that I cannot engage with it at the level it needs right now. It is okay to accept both of those things and return to fight another day. I hope that my thoughts in this diary will be of help in your own design process! by Kyle Thompson, Keeper of the Light of the Peerless Star (@wiegraf_)
What is All Systems Nominal? All Systems Nominal is a mecha RPG based on gritty “real robot” military science fiction like Battletech, Front Mission, Gundam 08th MS Team, Titanfall, Brigador, Heavy Gear, and Maschinen Kriger. It is designed to be a brief read that will be easy for GMs and other players to learn, with a focus on tactical and cinematic combat, teamwork, and the grind of life on a military campaign. The core rules are based on Blades in the Dark. However the combat is more similar to the Range and Cover rules in The Burning Wheel, and the downtime phase resembles Night Witches. The game relies heavily on tags in a way that will be familiar to players of Lady Blackbird, City of Mist, or Vagabonds of Dyfed. A full campaign of All Systems Nominal can be expected to run for about 8-10 sessions of play. What is it like to play? Most of the play time in All Systems Nominal is spent in the combat scenes that form the core of the mission phase. While the general feeling in The Gauntlet community is not very enthusiastic about tactical combat, in playtesting I received comments from multiple players saying that the combat in All Systems Nominal surprised them with how engaging and interesting it is. Each combat sequence begins with an engagement roll similar to Blades in the Dark, and then proceeds to two rounds of combat. At the start of each round the Commanding Officer of the player unit chooses a maneuver (Ambush, Fighting Retreat, etc.), and then each member of the unit describes how they contribute to the unit’s actions. Depending on how the players roll, they get a result after the two rounds of combat that describe their position coming out of battle. This system moves fast and keeps all the players thinking about the fiction while making tactical decisions that contribute to the group. The stakes feel real and every hit the unit takes makes their situation more difficult in downtime. The downtime phase will be familiar to players of Blades in the Dark and Night Witches. Pilots spend their downtime actions to make connections, acquire the materiel they need to continue the fight, and care for themselves and each other in the face of the violence and terror of war. Like in both those games, the downtime starts off easy enough but becomes more and more intense and meaningful as the players’ pilots and mecha accumulate scars and break down under the stress of fighting. What makes this game special? I decided to make All Systems Nominal after the launch of Harebrained Schemes’ Battletech this year. Many players were talking about how they wanted to run some kind of mecha RPG for their friends after playing the game, but they just weren’t satisfied with the options out there because they were too cumbersome to fit into their busy lives. I had been fiddling around with ideas for how to make a Forged in the Dark game based on Brigador ever since I first started making my Let’s Learn Blades in the Dark series, and I had plenty of experience with the mecha genre, both from playing and reading games based on Battletech and from my work as the lead translator on the Front Mission Fan Translation Project, so I decided I was well qualified to give this design problem a shot. Every part of the design was written to focus on fast uptake for the player and GM, interesting decisions, the struggles of campaign life, and scenes that would show off the mecha stomping around the world. Here are just a few worth highlighting: No classes, no playbooks John Harper famously wanted to design Blades in the Dark as a classless game, and I decided to follow that design instinct with All Systems Nominal. Players don’t choose a class or playbook with a bunch of moves, they simply choose a background and write two specializations that represent what they learned from their background. They can use these as tags during missions or downtime to help themselves get extra dice on rolls. This keeps things simple and flexible no matter what setting the group wants to play in. Simple mecha creation Mecha creation is designed to be fast, and involves just four steps. There is no getting bogged down in equipment tables or weight calculations.
As I noted above, the combat system in All Systems Nominal involves fighting as a unit, and it requires that everyone’s pilots make meaningful individual contributions to the fight. While individual duels can be resolved with Blades-style action rolls, that is not the focus of the game. In combat, the commanding officer decides a maneuver for the whole unit, and then each pilot makes decisions about the range they will occupy, the specializations and talents that are relevant to what they’re doing, and the special systems their personal mecha can use in the situation. There is a back and forth of group and individual action that avoids the isolated and sequential decision making that often characterizes grid-based tactical combat. Build relationships to stay in the fight Unlike Blades in the Dark, All Systems Nominal does not involve a complex written setting with lists of factions and NPCs for the players to interact with. However All Systems Nominal does provide players with the tools necessary to gradually expand their network of contacts in order to get the resources they need and involve them in compelling personal struggles. The game mainly does this by taking a page from The Burning Wheel’s Circles mechanic, which has been rewritten FitD style as The Link Roll. This roll allows pilots to use their background, status, and connections to reach individuals who can help them get what they need. They declare what sort of person they want to link up with, answer questions about their relationship, and then roll a number of dice dictated by the answers they provide. A critical result will get the pilot an eager and helpful ally, while a miss will get them an enemy who harbors a secret or open enmity against them. Once the pilots have contacts they can make a Resource Roll to acquire what they need. Every fictional advantage they can muster helps, but fundamentally pilots acquire resources with their Rank, which acts as both the pilots level, and their tier in Blades parlance. Ranking up will help pilots get what they need, but they will have to leverage every advantage they can get to stay sound of mind, body, and mecha. A pilot without some solid relationships will fight alone and die alone in the end. Links and media All Systems Nominal is currently in public beta testing and can be found here with character sheets and Roll20 play aids.
What mechanics do you currently have in the game that reinforce your design goals? Town creation procedure has the players insert motifs representing the adult world which will reoccur throughout play; conversely the player characters insert their own motifs representing their ability to say “no” to what is expected of them. Additionally, the players' modifiers and rolls stem from Traits and Labels. In other words, they use the fictional positioning of their subjective view of themselves (Traits), as well as external views placed onto them by others (Labels), to be able to roll at all and define their modifier. In this way I hope that the system helps them roleplay their character and also helps the player define their player character by way of exploring their Labels; ultimately moving a Label to a permanent Trait when they advance if it makes sense for their character. Where are you at in the development cycle? I just finished the alpha document for the first playtest! Finish the sentence: “People are going to be excited about this game because…” … they will be able to play kids turning into badass robots that allow them to beat the snot out of their own inner demons and problems. by Tomer G, Keeper of the Squamous Beast Below This is the second in a Design Diary series for MR-KR-GR: The Death Rolled Kingdom. It’s a game setting by Mun Kao and Zedeck Siew, and one I want to evangelize to others in the world. This second installment is a deeper dive into how I built the mechanics around supporting the game I wanted to play. Changes since the last time I removed the World of Dungeons mechanics completely, and created a character generation process which very much mimics that used in Fall of Magic. I used names from various places (the prior game, other Thousand Thousand Islands, World of Dungeons, and some I just made up). I used titles from hints in MR-KR-GR, some from the second Thousand Thousand Island book: Kraching, and a few that I made up. Additionally I needed to distinguish those who are Uplanders (only connected to the outside world through MR-KR-GR) and Downlanders (those from the rest of the world). And then Traits… I wanted everyone to start with at least one, to start defining their character: On the one hand this is tricky, as Merating, and Kandis, and the Tohey people are defined in the book. But they are so loosely defined that there are plenty of blank spaces for the players to inhabit. This allows the players to easily inhabit characters that are part of the setting, and not just some visitor from a faraway land, but without heavy restrictions on the character that require the player to read setting text. Conflict Resolution I was considering having some sort of simple token economy, where each player might have fate tokens to determine a successful outcome for conflicts that occur. I’ve seen this work to good effect in some mechanic light story games and scene-framing games. However, in this case it just didn’t feel like it would hit the right tone for this OSR-style setting and play. I wanted some randomness to adjudicate conflicts that we, as the players, have to respond to. But, without the complexity of what you find in D&D with the mix of dice and overwhelming nature of stats, skills, saves, and so on. My experiment with World of Dungeons showed that conflicts came up very infrequently, and we desired very simple resolution. One possibility was going with a straightforward “die of fate”, and rolling a d6, with lower results meaning bad stuff, and high results meaning better things. But this felt a little too random, and too open to interpretation as well. Don’t get me wrong, it could work, but it didn’t feel like it hit the mark. I ended up going with a simple d6 roll for conflicts, and the mixed success levels provided by PbtA games. I stuck with an unforgiving 1-3 (miss), 4-5 (partial success) and 6 (success). This sounds tough, and is not terribly different from the mechanics of Blades in the Dark. However, Blades in the Dark mitigates this inherent difficulty by using dice pools. I ended up using a different method... Traits The traits would be similar to those in Fall of Magic, but perhaps used more frequently. In Fall of Magic (or at least in the rules of Autumn of the Ancients, the sci-fi hack), traits can be applied to add a +1 to the infrequent d6 rolls that show the outcome of some few, specific scenes. In general, however, there isn’t any conflict resolution mechanics in that game. In my proposed conflict resolution described above (1-3 = Bad / 4-5 = OK / 6 = Great) the results skew towards being hard for the players to succeed. However with the addition of traits, this could change to generally add a +1 or +2 to some rolls, and therefore change the balance of difficulty significantly. And encourage players to use their character’s few strengths to their advantage. I grabbed traits that emulated D&D stats initially (+Strong, +Smart, +Charismatic) but they felt lackluster. I instead ended up going with those that resembled Skills in World of Dungeons, as they are short one-word phrases, and more closely emulate the associated archetypes of character classes in fantasy games: +Hardy, +Seer, +Aim, and so on. In addition to choosing a trait during initial character generation, I decided to add more focused traits during the first two scenes, where the characters get to establish their character through vignettes. In one the character chooses a positive trait such as: +Trusted, +Unflinching, +Lore, +Rich, +Chosen, +Unusual. In another I had them choose a negative trait such as: -Unnatural, -Cursed, -Distracted, -Destitute, -Poisoned, -Maimed. This combination of good and bad traits allows for some diverse interactions, mechanically and narratively. Conflict Resolution in Play After making the above changes, I found the second playtest worked exceedingly well. The additional trait choices during those initial scenes lent a stronger gravitas to player choices. Having a total of 3 traits didn’t feel complex or difficult to manage. The play of positive and negative felt right. In play, when conflicts occurred, the mechanics proved robust enough to give us a variety of outcomes, skewing towards failures when the task was out of the character’s strengths, and skewing towards success when it was grounded in their abilities, but always with uncertainty. I wasn’t sure how character’s aiding each other, or multiple rolls for complex scenes might work, but I found in at least two situations in play, a character’s failure allowed others to be drawn into the scene to “help”, and doing so with their own conflicts and subsequent rolls. This caused some good interactions. One of my criticisms was the positive trait of +Unusual, which was chosen by two of the characters. Although I specifically go for relatively vague traits, this one felt too vague and didn’t work well in scenes. I feel similarly about -Unnatural as a negative trait, and might try to find something that works a little better. Image from Story Games Glendale meetup running the second session of MR-KR-GR on August 7: The Robustness of the Game I was impressed with was how different this game was then the last. The setting really isn’t that large, given the MR-KR-GR book is just a bit over 30 zine-style pages, with many illustrations and a sparseness of words. The two games shared some similar entry scenes, as these are standard when building the characters. But the two games shared very little as far as the thrust of the story and the locations the players ended up visiting. And there are so many locations, star NPCs, and random tables that I didn’t use in either game, that I feel there is still a wealth to explore. I enjoy that there doesn’t feel to be a repetitiveness, and that excites me to run it again. To that end, I’ve put up a two-shot version that I will run for the Gauntlet in September, and I’ve also posted it for face-to-face play at both Strategicon Gateway 2018 in Los Angeles, and at Big Bad Con 2018 in the San Francisco Bay Area. these questions were posed to Gerrit Reininghaus, Keeper of the Voice of the Silent Emperor, about his in-development game Atitlan Riders. Tell us a little bit about your game. What is it about? What will the players be doing? Gerrit: Atitlan Riders is a tuk fast tuk furious coming-of-age Powered by the Apocalypse (PbtA) game located in one of the largest indigenous communities of Central America. Players will explore the transition of young people into adulthood in Santiago Atitlan, a Mayan rural town in Guatemala. Expressing individuality isn’t easy in day-to-day life. But all characters are secretly tuk tuk racing drivers and their tuk tuk (three wheeled taxis) expresses many things for them: love, passion, rebellion, faith, friendship. In contrast to other PbtA games, Atitlan Riders is not built on a well-known genre and its tropes. Instead, it relies on the global understanding of growing-up and it's rooted in its unique setting. What are some of the major design goals of this game? I'm not from Santiago Atitlan but from Germany. But I have been living in Santiago now for two years and the original design goal for me was to reflect on the my experiences. How is growing up different there? How is it similar? But moreover, I want to design a game with a take on family and friendship through the lens of a racing game as in films like the Fast & Furious franchise. Playing this game shall bring the emotions of coming of age literature together with releasing tension through seriously fun racing action. The setting shall allow players to learn about the place and its people and become curious abou a different world than theirs. What mechanics do you currently have in the game that reinforce your design goals? An integral part of character creation is drawing the front of your tuk tuk. This way you inform your fellow players who you are or who you want to be. Whatever happens in play, you can show it on your tuk tuk. In play, major conflicts are solved through tuk tuk racing. This is a moment of magical realism. You don't want your brother to report to the police? You want to win somebody's heart? Let's have a race. The race is a mini story game focusing on racing fun. A variant in German, English and Spanish exists to play it standalone. Your longer character goal is to strive to live an independent life and realize your dreams. For that, you need to free yourself from manipulative influence others have over you and you over them. This is the main currency which can only be resolved through scenes of personal intimacy in which both involved parties let the other go. Setting creation guides players through a process of getting familiar with the town of Santiago Atitlan while still having an influence on where the story goes. Where are you at in the development cycle? The game exists in a playable and complete edition but keeping the most exciting elements less explored than in the current design state. That edition has been playtested at Metatopia and on the Gauntlet Hangouts calendar. The current design state is to test some of the more innovative elements one by one and then bring another round of playtests to the next version in Autumn. Finish the sentence: “People are going to be excited about this game because…” ...drawing, racing and growing-up is a globally valid combination of fun, and Atitlan Riders provides a unique setting outside of the Western Hemisphere and TV tropes. Play Materials Reference Sheets (Basic Moves, playbooks etc): https://drive.google.com/open?id=0B1gaJQCvkb6MUTB6QlVnSkNBTE0 Rulebook (beta): https://drive.google.com/open?id=1jT142p3olzvJZRjn0zZMhNNdOVLPbOtx Online Character Keeper: https://goo.gl/NwQ6uG (also contains links to tuk tuk front creation and racing template) Tuk tuk racing stand alone game: https://drive.google.com/open?id=1Ie8rxThACq2Gv_yuQiypnK6holPejugS Tuk tuk racing stand alone game (Spanish version): https://drive.google.com/open?id=1xhZoq1G5MK6bSkV_469ZDhJv8gAZv1Sw Recorded playtests: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLB6Hm0gKHHXaQgFc6J8TQr_PyOBSah0oP Interview by Rach Shelkey from the +1Forward podcast http://www.gauntlet-rpg.com/1-forward/alphas-02-death-knights-atitlan-ridersbullets-in-the-mountains Pictures A tuk tuk race from one of the online playtests: Locations to be selected from in setting creation:
Talking about the past In The Between, players are strongly encouraged to avoid talking about their character’s past, both in-character and out-of-character. Players are expressly forbidden from discussing certain aspects of their past, principally the elements of their Janus Mask (discussed more below). Players can expect characters to question their character about their past, but their character must always avoid the conversation, either by tensing up, acting awkwardly, or simply excusing themselves from the scene. In addition to conforming to my personal preferences regarding character backstory, the restrictions on talking about your character’s past also happen to fit the game’s setting. The player characters are privileged individuals who each have a dark, troubled past that is trying to catch up to them. Members of their social class in Victorian London simply would not discuss such matters openly. Having run a few dozen playtests, I can tell you this particular aspect of the game always requires a short period of adjustment for the players. As role players, we are accustomed to jumping straight into our character’s backstory, chatting back and forth about what it all means, how the player characters fit together, how they got involved in the adventure, and so forth. But in The Between, you don’t do any of that. After a very short round of character introductions, during which we learn next to nothing about the characters, the D.I. (what the GM is called in The Between) presents the first Threat and the characters begin the investigation in medias res. But here’s the thing: once you get past the initial awkwardness of not being able to talk about your character’s past, you start to become aware of something this game does constantly, which is it deftly manages your cognitive load. I’m going to talk about this effect more in future Design Diary posts, because I think it is the ultimate triumph of this game, but in the context of this particular aspect of the rules, what it means is that you can focus on the investigation–the here and now–without worrying about whether you are conforming to some concept you have expressed aloud about your character. The Janus Mask Of course, the above doesn’t mean players shouldn’t think about their character’s past. Quite the contrary: they should think about it a lot, because they’re going to be revealing that past, piece by piece, in a grand, entertaining fashion. Every playbook has a section called The Mask of the Past and a section called The Mask of the Future. Together, these sections are referred to as the Janus Mask. At specific points during the game (discussed more in a future post), players may invoke their character’s Janus Mask to alter events that are happening in the fiction. When they do so, they make a mark in either the Mask of the Past or the Mask of the Future. If they mark the Mask of the Past, they are called upon to narrate a particular kind of flashback at some point during the session. These flashbacks are how we, as audience members, begin to learn about these characters’ origins. In order for you to have some context, below are the elements that comprise the Mask of the Past for the Vessel playbook. The Vessel is a character who has been surrounded by dark, shadowy entities their whole life.
Once these elements have been revealed by the Janus Mask, the player is free to discuss them both in and out-of-character, so long as they continue to keep the unrevealed elements behind a veil. Note, however, that there is still a great deal of mystery surrounding the character even after all these elements are revealed. Also note the cognitive load effect I alluded to earlier: yes, you should be thinking about your character’s past, but in order to narrate an entertaining series of flashbacks, you only need to think about these highly specific aspects of the character’s past. The Between, above all, wants to constantly reinforce its themes and does everything it can to keep players on task in this regard. by Tomer G, Keeper of the Squamous Beast Below This is the first in my Design Diary series about MR-KR-GR: The Death Rolled Kingdom. It’s a game setting by Mun Kao and Zedeck Siew, and one I want to evangelize to others in the world. This first installment is an overview of the setting, and an initial playtest. Future installments will dive deeper into how I built the mechanics around supporting the game I wanted to play. Playing with RPG systems Running a game module using an alternative game system is not a new idea. OSR thrives on the concept, with many D&D derivatives being used to run modules that were written with D&D in mind, or sometimes with no game system in mind. A very influential game for me was run by Tom McGrenery: the module Death Frost Doom, run as Death Force Doom (in the Star Wars universe, as an old haunted Jedi temple with us as adventuring snow troopers). Tom used Stay Frosty, an OSR system built to emulate stories of marines in situations similar to Predator or Aliens. I was impressed not just because the system worked, but because the game we played felt enhanced by the system, above and beyond what a D&D clone would’ve done. Tom and Jason Cordova have since taken this ethos and discussed it in the Fear of a Black Dragon podcast. Additionally, I’ve seen Rich Rogers do very similar things with his series of Star Wars themed games, using systems like 1%er for swoop gangs, Apocalypse World for drama on Tatooine, and The Few (a game about WW2 fighter pilots) for a game about X-wing pilots. Each system felt like it targeted the narrative and mood more directly and appropriately than a generic Star Wars RPG would have been able to pull off. What is MR-KR-GR? It is a work of art, plain and simple. Mun Kao and Zedeck Siew are working on a Thousand Thousand Islands, a Southeast Asian-inspired fantasy setting. The first of these books is MR-KR-GR: The Death Rolled Kingdom, a land of crocodiles and the people who mostly worship, or love, or work for and with them (or perhaps even plot their downfall). It’s less a setting book or module, and more a work of sublime poetry. A world visualized in sparse words and phrases and drawings. I can’t remember the last time I felt this connected to a game world, and yet it’s so short it can be read in half an hour. But how to run a game in this land? I spent time ruminating on that before finally being inspired by Mun Kao’s art, and Zedeck Siew’s eloquent wordplay. It reminded me of Heart of the Deernicorn’s Fall of Magic, a game made popular because you literally play on a scroll. Fall of Magic uses beautiful and simple artwork, reminiscent of those maps from Lord of the Rings. The story prompts and wordplay on the game are simple yet evocative, providing just enough direction for a story focused around a single topic, yet open to myriad interpretations (as I’ve seen experienced through play many times). A test run of MR-KR-GR After inspiration hit, I created a few locations (such as MR-KR-Singga Port and The Gates, as described in the module), and created a few thematic story prompts that would get players diving into this world. I wanted players to be able to come from the perspective of foreigners visiting this land, but also as locals or those from neighboring kingdoms. I still needed a way for conflicts to be adjudicated, and turned to a relatively light system that I was familiar with: World of Dungeons (John Harper’s simplified Dungeon World hack). I planned for the players to be able to create a simple character on the fly, or even fill out much of the stats and other information as we were playing. Because of the short time from inspiration to playtesting, I didn’t post this as a scheduled game on the Gauntlet calendar, but instead took advantage of the Gauntlet Slack community and resources such as the #need_players channel therein. My crew consisted of stellar players Lauren, Ellen and Ary, so even though I was nervous, I knew I was in supportive hands. Unlike Fall of Magic, which is a GM-less / GM-ful game, MR-KR-GR is a setting where having a facilitator is important to providing the players a grand tour of this beautiful world. Because it’s also drawn with so many blank spaces, you can easily fill the world and adventure with input from the players, which for me is some of my favorite gaming. So, we started with some story prompts to get them going and introducing their characters. Image from my cards, graphic by Mun Kao: These cards played very well in giving the players images to hold on to, whether those are setting pieces or NPCs. As it turned out, using World of Dungeons, despite being a relatively simple game, was complete overkill. We made a handful of rolls during the game, but almost all scenes were very story-centric and just improvised narratives between myself and the players. That said, we did occasionally desire some conflict resolution that was “random”, and in lieu of any other mechanic, did use the 2d6 rolls inherent in World of Dungeons. This led to some great fiction as we had to respond to unforeseen consequences and successes. Where to go from here? I’m definitely planning to streamline the mechanics. My plan is to remove the use of World of Dungeons completely, and have character generation much more similar to Fall of Magic. I still need some conflict resolution, and I do love the mix of success levels provided by PbtA games. Currently, I plan to use a simple d6 roll, not terribly different from Blades in the Dark perhaps, but with just a single die (instead of a pool of dice). I also like the idea of using individual character traits similar to Fall of Magic (almost like Aspects in Fate), where each trait could provide a +1, or even a -1, to the roll. So instead of tracking stats, a character may just have traits such as “Tough” or “Nimble” or “Clever”. Want to see the actual play? We recorded the game on Google Hangouts, and I used an audio track in the background (that the players could hear, but you the viewer will not be able to, as this time). Ary could only play for 2 hours but Lauren and Ellen could do closer to 3 hours, so we did some narrative jumping forward and backwards in time, which ended up working very well, story-wise. This was first published on Tomer's blog, which can be found here.
What is The Between? The Between is about a group of monster hunters in Victorian London. It is directly inspired by the TV show Penny Dreadful, but also takes inspiration from British horror classics like Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, The Picture of Dorian Gray, and various Sherlock Holmes stories, as well as the comic books The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen and From Hell. The game is called The Between because we find the characters in a very liminal moment–caught between a mysterious past that is trying to catch up to them and a future that is cloaked in darkness. It is also called The Between because, unlike many tabletop roleplaying games, the players in this game do not live solely behind their character’s eyes; rather, at specific times they are called upon to help the D.I. (this game’s version of a GM) fill in many of the details related to the world. What is it like to play? In The Between, the D.I. presents and tracks an ever-growing list of Threats across the city of London. The players, collectively called Hargrave House (which is the name of their base of operations) conduct investigations related to these Threats and either engage in hunts to destroy them or otherwise enact plans to manage the danger they pose to the city. The D.I. is also responsible for developing an uber-Threat called The Enemy, a Moriarty-style criminal mastermind and the true villain of the story. Gameplay is divided into two phases: the Day phase and the Night phase. The Day phase has a languid, almost casual pace. The scenes in the Day phase are largely framed by the players, and the goals of those scenes include some combination of: exploring conflicts and tension between the player characters; relieving Conditions, which are negative traits the players can acquire during play; observing the player characters at leisure; and conducting light, daytime-appropriate investigation of Threats. The Night phase, on the other hand, is more visceral. The scenes in this phase are framed by the D.I. and focus on the intense, bloody business of hunting vampires and serial killers on the lamplit streets of London. The pacing of this phase is governed by a special procedure called the Overscene, which I will discuss a bit below. What makes this game special? There are many things that make this game special, but I’ll give a quick preview of a few mechanics I believe help make The Between a very novel experience. I’ll be discussing these and other elements in more detail in future Design Diary posts, but this should be enough to give you a sense of things: The Janus Mask In The Between, players are not generally allowed to speak about their character’s past, either in-character or out of character. If someone asks a player character about something from their past, players are encouraged to demure or otherwise avoid the conversation. Specific elements of their past are explicitly forbidden to be discussed at the table unless a certain mechanic, the Janus Mask, is triggered, at which point those elements may be revealed in a cinematic fashion by the player. The Janus Mask is divided into two: the Mask of the Past and the Mask of the Future. The specifics for each playbook differ, but generally-speaking, the Mask of the Past has you narrate flashbacks that gradually show us how the character got to where they are today, whereas the Mask of the Future gives hints as to what the Fates have in store for them. During the game, after a die roll has taken place and the outcome narrated, the player can choose to invoke the Janus Mask to turn the roll into a 12+ and completely alter the fictional outcome. They mark an element from either the Mask of the Past or the Mask of the Future; then, at some point during the session, they have to do whatever the Janus Mask element instructs. Note, however, that the more and more they invoke the Janus Mask, the closer and closer the character gets to being retired. The Overscene The Overscene is a special scene that governs the pacing of the Night phase. During the Overscene, we see a situation playing out in another part of London on the same night Hargrave House is engaged in the hunt. Importantly, the Overscene is not connected to the Hargrave House story in any way. It exists as a bit of texture, a glimpse into our version of Victorian London at night. But that doesn’t mean it is without mechanical weight (see Echoes in the Dark, below). Echoes in the Dark During the Night phase, whenever a player narrates something in the main scene that is thematically or visually similar to something that occurred in the Overscene, or vice-versa, they have done what is called an Echo in the Dark. At the end of the Night phase, so long as they did at least one Echo in the Dark, they get to mark XP. The Day Move and the Night Move At its heart, The Between is Powered by the Apocalypse (PbtA). However, most conflicts in the game are resolved by a single move that comes in two different flavors: the Day Move and the Night Move, both of which were inspired by various PbtA games, including Monsterhearts and Bluebeard’s Bride. I have put a tremendous amount of thought into these moves, and the end results not only arbitrate fictional outcomes, but also help negotiate stakes between the player and the D.I., as well as determine who has narrative authority. The difference between the Day Move and the Night Move is that the latter is designed to be significantly more dangerous to the player. |
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