The Dragon's Fire: Book 3, Chapter 5

Shadowdark

 

Welcome back! Today I am writing about choosing a game, particularly Shadowdark. 

I think one of the hardest things to admit when you're looking at games is that they are meant to address desires and logistical needs. As a designer, I frequently forget that my games are built to address my needs. This is a very difficult thing to remember, because as you design you start to view the object as its own thing, and start to modify it to address needs other than yours, while you use it to continue to satisfy your own. There's a difference between liking the design of an object and actually having it address your desires and needs.

So, here's what my desires and logistical needs are.

My desire is to have two kinds of games running, one to satisfy and synthesize two competing urges into the same setting. 

1. To have game with a ton of emotional depth, where it is safe to do so. This would be a small, somewhat insular group. 

2. A large living world table, ala Noonan’s living campaign model. This would allow me to run for whomever was around, without any fear of people not being able to commit. 

Crescendo satisfies the first desire quite admirably. I mean, I designed it to. Burning Wheel MIGHT do, but Crescendo is far more flexible, by several orders of magnitude. Its inherently chaotic sessions also create natural shake ups that could ripple into the larger table. Overall, Crescendo does well as a “beating heart of the setting” sorta a game. 

But what about the second?

See, that’s what has been tripping me up. Instead of simply listing out what I logistically need and being ruthless about it, I have engaged in mooning over how cool all these games are, which lightens my wallet considerably, but doesn’t actually accomplish a stable table. 

Here’s what I need:

- Something familiar enough to my 3.5 days so that I can just skate by. I do all my innovation in Crescendo. I have no interest in bending particularly far for the other game. I paid my dues to originality and then some.

- A game with extremely low entry. Literally fifteen minutes of character creation at most, and then off to the races. 

- Emergent depth. As the game progresses, people who stick with it find there’s actually mechanics to sink their teeth into. It doesn’t have to be super deep, but as time goes on people can naturally develop new goals and their personal narrative evolves. 

- Worldbuilding and mechanics I can adapt Crescendo to without spending tons and tons and tons of time in order to produce for both tables. 

- Something that encourages the kind of loud, over-the-top, party attitude I actually enjoy quite a bit. 

Once I lay that all out, it’s just obviously Shadowdark. 

Familiar but well-done rules. So some reading required, but not really. Dionne's work isn't revolutionary. That's fine by me. I don't want revolutionary, I want something that I can intuit enough to where I can just run it and be surprised a few time and then readjust fire.

I also found that I could hack Shadowdark's basic stuff to fit my setting really easily. It took me a half hour to write my own setting’s level 0 character funnel table. Not even that. And if anything I made mine faster than what’s in the core book. People can just walk up to the table, shrug and say “what the hell”, and start playing. 

Shadowdark has some surprising spots for depth down the road, especially if you adapt Living Campaign/BROSR principles, like 1:1 time and Braunsteins. You can use the pieces to do some really impressive stuff, if you know what to aim for. The fact that there’s a bunch of 3rd party stuff that fleshes this out (which I was literally given) doesn’t hurt. 

Is it perfect? Nah. No system is. The lethality can scare off the wrong newcomer, and if someone really wants narrative-heavy zero-to-hero arcs with minimal risk, they'll bounce. But for what I need—a reliable, low-friction engine that supports a big, breathing world while leaving room for Crescendo to be the emotional heartbeat—it's damn near ideal.

So if you've been staring at your shelf (or your itch.io cart) wondering why none of the "cool" games quite fit your actual life and table, try doing what I finally did: write the ruthless list first. Then see what matches.

For me, it was Shadowdark.

And here I pause. If you do not show up next week, I don’t blame you. It is no easy road. 

Angel Sketch 2/25/26

 

Awhile back I bought George Kordis's "Icon as Communion". It's a bit of a hard read, but I did my best... and then put it down.

Today I understood what he was saying.

Byzantine aesthetics assumes that the image is coming off the surface, at you, the viewer. And the way it comes off the surface has to be uniform, in a way that's pleasing. In other words, it has to have a rhythm.

This is the sketch where I finally understood that.

Although anyone who pretends that I mastered it or even do it well is lying.

The Elephant in the Room: A Conclusive Holding Pattern

So, for whatever reason, I will meet this black-haired girl at some point in the future. Some will read that and think “Oh, that must be nice, thinking you know the future.” They think the experience of knowing the future is like sneaking a peek ahead in a book… assuming they’re not hopelessly deluded. But, if I am correct, it is an experience you simply cannot just outright imagine. If knowing the future is like looking further on into a book, then the pages are under your feet. To turn them is to invite perpetual motion. To turn them is to realize that time is self-committed. And nobody actually wants to think that through  

We think of the present self as “me”. This is not true. You are always you, time is  just a necessary sorting creature, who helps you come to grips with who you are in digestible chunks. Father Time is a kindly shepherd, helping you get as much of the full picture as you can stand. 

Few things are as painful as leaving the good Father. 

For, you see, gravity still exists in the spiritual realm. And you have jumped off the cliff. 

It is a long. Long. Long. Way down. 

You hurtle through utter chaos. This isn’t half as cute as it sounds. Time gives you space to sort everything safely. Now you don’t have that. That’s when you realize that chaos is an ocean, and what you thought was you is a thimble, and nobody is there to pull you out as you sink.

And boy, do you. 

It doesn’t take long to realize that I lied about falling. Saying gravity exists is simply modern cope. Silly modern, there is only relationship! And relationship has a funny habit of stripping your ego away, of forcing you to let go of all the petty things you thought you were. But if this is relationship… who am I relating to, in all this chaos?

Look down. 

Someone’s down there. It’s so infinitely large it’s hard to comprehend, but it’s there. In the bright darkness. Looking at you. 

And suddenly you understand why none of your thoughts are linear: one second you are two the next eighty-two. You look around and it all seems familiar, in the way a chair looks familiar if you’re looking at it in a funhouse mirror. 

Down below, you open your eyes. And you find yourself smiling at you, even as you are drawn towards you. 

And it is entirely too much. What we are is entirely different than what we can handle. Self is not an idea of yourself, but something so much greater that attempting to describe it is necessary deception.

And all that’s nice. But. 

You still have to get up in the morning. 

You still have a wife and children who need you to go to work and focus on all the incoming calls. You still have a PTSD-riddled body which makes thinking actively laborious. So you reach out, into the void… and the exact right thing just… comes. Right then and there. The thought doesn’t seem to come right now. But, I mean, who cares? It worked! Who cares why? Or how? The fact that wisdom that I didn’t know I had (because I don’t, not right now) just came out of my mouth is irrelevant, because I helped. Doesn’t stop me from wondering, however.

But the exact mechanics of what happened aren’t made clear until my wife walks into the room. There’s a moment where it all comes out jumbled at her. How could it not? Everything is excited to see her. Touch her. To feel her soul, pulsing in my hands. 

And suddenly, I am one again. Young and old. All is together. Loving her. It’s grown better with Father Time. Somehow I do understand her better. There is some form of progression in life, and it’s the most wonderful surprise I could imagine. 

So there is this moment, sometime in the future, where the black-haired girl and I will meet. I know this because I remember it as happening… however long… from “now”. A truly reverse memory. A memory that forces me to confront the self-deception I thought was identity. 

Why is this person in this reverse memory? It’s a lot to take in. I keep trying to understand why. And that’s natural. The mind has to wonder about such things, on some level. Mine doesn't shut up all that well, and it creates loops where I wonder why I am falling towards this moment in time. It's not exactly a comfortable experience, and wanting to know why she's involved is natural. And yes, I know that it only stops when the moment happens. So, it's extremely natural to want to know how to end such a deeply uncomfortable experience. 

It is also natural that I wonder about this person. Is she okay? Why has shown she up so prominently in my dreams? Why am I hurtling through chaos on account of this? Is there something I am missing?

But I have no power over this. I cannot contact her. It isn’t possible, and that’s that. Painful as it is to admit, I have no ability to change what is happening to me for the moment. Kindness, right here and in the next moment, is the only way I win. Kindness always wins. Always. It’s not perfect, but it will do as a way to hold the course. Even if this never ends, I know that it is better to die wondering what happened to her than try and obsess. That may sound extreme… but read the above again and try to grasp what I am saying here.

And besides, there is one more place I can find refuge: in the Now. And there is one way I have found that I can reliably get into the Now.

It starts the moment my wife wraps her arms around me. One infinity presses against another. 

And in that timeless time Maria does more than Father Time ever could. 

A Half-Hearted Attempt at a Conclusion

There are a few people who will wonder why I went out of my way to write four blog posts about a series of dreams that's really nobody's business but my own. There may be one person particularly who stumbles upon this, who will probably have a ton of questions, the bigggest one what the solitary fuck made me think I should put this up.

Let me clarify.

This blog exists because if I have to write it.

I don't have a plan. Every time I try to make a plan for this blog, I can't keep to it. I sit down, and whatever comes up, I write. That's how this works. And, for the last two years, every time I have sat down to write on this blog, the stories in these four posts have come up. Over. And over. And over. And for two years I have resisted the urge to write these four posts. It drained my ability to write here, and I need to write here. It's something that must be done, for whatever reason.

If these posts helped you, great. If they hurt you, I apologize. If they shocked you... well... how do I think I feel, writing them?

But the  blog most go on. So the posts are up. I invite questions, comments, concerns, etc, but understand that this is the most restrained and ethical way I could think to write about this extremely private and weird issue of mine.

I  do believe the black-haired girl is a real person, living in the world, right now. I hope if she finds these, she will see that I have attempted to the best of my ability to keep certain things private.  There are many things I could have said, that I did not. Will not. I have attempted to just keep to my side of the story. I know a good deal more than I let on, even here. This is the bare minimum I could write and continue the blog.

Anything more than that is just emotive posturing. So we cut it here. Onwards!

An Additional Note

My wife and I purchased this fine volume 

As I began to read it, a good many things clicked into place for me. The first few pages of this book clarified a hole in my philosophy of life, and thus everything I have ever touched. Including this blog post. Rather than smooth it out, I have elected to keep the messiness here, so that my evolution can be tracked for what it is. Expect some additional posts inspired by this book sooner or later. 

The thing that is relevant to this post and all four posts in the Elephant series, is this: a Christian is supposed to see the world not just in terms of symbols, but types: people who resemble a chief archetype (don’t think the repetition an accident). 

What I see in this eternal free-fall is merely the archetype of what falls. And, for whatever reason, I have been allowed a glimpse at what I already am… for I am being pulled to me. 

We all are like this. 

But if I did not see the process, in all its achingly beautiful glory, I wouldn’t have the strength to go on. I must know what I am in the orbit of. Explicitly. 

And that, my friends, is all that prophecy is: revealing to broken souls they still have a chance. And I am that, very much so do. 

The Warmth

Yes, this is written mere hours before this post publishes. Extrapolate what may happen past that, and let the reader be discerning. The biggest thing that tripped me up about the vision is that it is a total bodily experience. I experienced the event as my future self. The body that is mine in the future feels so different that it’s almost traumatic, just on its own. My body then is so much lighter! Warmer! I don’t recognize me! 

Yesterday, my wife was reading Mother Siluana to me about enfleshing the prayer in your currently felt feelings. You don’t avoid or fight what you feel. You let it become the feelings become the center of your prayer. Something in me whispered I had allowed this by accident before, and I knew of what she spoke. 

The prayer came, but this time for the black-haired girl. And a warmth came through me, out of me chest, culminating into my fingers. I was full of warmth. I was light. I was free. 

It was the same light and warmth I felt in my body as my baseline, when I meet the black-haired girl in the future. It’s not constant now like it is then. 

But there is a new beginning. Right now. The morning before I publish this. All the things in creation are for our good, even silly blog posts like mine!

Understand that, five minutes after this is published, things will be different. And you will not know. If you stick around and read the blog, welcome! If you don’t, hopefully some bit of this helped. I continue on, regardless, towards that fixed anchor I know for my own good. Onward!

Demons' Blues: Book 1, Chapter 4

Demons' Blues: Book 1, Chapter 3

Demons' Blues: Book 1, Chapter 2

Demons' Blues: Book 1, Chapter 1

Demons' Blues: Hero Creation

 

a

The Dragon's Fire: Book 3, Chapter 4

Sononn 9-15

Sota City

The Ascension Rite Argenti absolutely purge all Ferren Descension Rite traces. Descension Rite clergy who will not switch their allegiance to the ecclesiarchs of the Argentum Empire are driven off, and the worship spaces are reconsecrated. Some of the Ferrens respond by fornicating with whores in the reconsecrated places, defiling them. All Ferrens have their cut in half, with the penalty for Ferren desertion increased to public drawing and quartering.

Raphael

Raphael didn't rage. He smiled.

While the Argenti priests were busy chanting and repairing sigils, he strolled through the freshly reconsecrated  grounds, like he was inspecting a new throne room. He game a slow, amused clap.

"Creative", he murmured. "Desperate, but creative."

Then he had the whole place scrubbed clean again. Not in anger. In style. Silver braziers relit. Banners hung higher. Incense thicker than before. If they wanted spectacle, he'd give them something worth kneeling to.

When the pay cuts were announced, Raphael didn't stiff beside the officers. He leaned. Arms crossed. Watched the Ferrens swalow their pride like fine wine. He caught the glaring. The ones pretending not to. The ones thinking about running.

"Desertion? Drawing and quartering? Publicly? Oh," Raphael said to no one in particular, "now this is getting interesting." That night he doubled the guard- not dramatically. Just a few quiet shifts of power. Loyal Argenti in key corridors. Supply lines sealed tight. Sanctums locked down like a vault. Not because he feared rebellion. Because he wanted to see who was bold enough to try.

And if someone did?

Well.

Raphael always enjoyed a little bit of curiosity.

Undermaze- Sota Cluster

A creature calling itself Legion possessed a bunch of minotaurs and attacked the reamining unpossessed minotaurs. They were pushed back and killed. The remaining minotaurs were seriously injured, and were unable to travel. The nearest cluster was many miles away. There was nothing to eat, and King Melny was just... gone.

Alistair

I use my healing sword to get anyone injured healed enough to start an evacuation effort.

Undermaze Proper

King Menly outraced stray queenslings, some of who were possed by Legion. Lultiple monsters came at King Melny over the next few days.

King Melny

Meny killed and ate what he had to, raw. If possible he would kill kill everything possible to find a way out. Unfortunately, this gives Melny Hallucinations 01.

Chapter Four- Sononn 16 to 17

Cal still didn't have internet, and Jesse was unreachable (probably passed out, given that he stays up pretty late to play with us). So we went... and. Well. Tasha did something just completely and unreasonably epic.

Reflections

We got a shorter wait time between sessions, and it didn't disappoint here either. We got to do something really epic (which is Tasha's bread and butter), without having to worry about how we got there during the session... because we had already gotten there.

1:1 time is awesome. It just is. I'm hooked.

The Dragon's Fire: Book 3, Chapter 3

Passouan 11-17

The players had split from Chapter 2: King Melny, Alistair, and Wolf going into the Undermaze, and Raphael staying in Sota City, since Tasha had missed the session. So I started writing two prompts: one for Sota City, and the other for the Undermaze.

Sota City

The human element has lost half its contingent, with Lord Sylvain running away with his "camp follower", Vivienne, to parts unknown. The remaining contingent is paid to stay there by Lord Auguste, who is loyal to King Melny, but he's gonna run out of cash in a month.

Raphael

I stayed on the walls as Sylvain fled, watching half the humans vanish with him. I marked the roads to Sota Fortress and counted Auguste's coin, knowing it wouldn't st the month. With the month of Sonno closing in, I began preparing for the day the humans fail, so their would collapse would not take us (the elves who had recruited Raphael) with them.

Undermaze- Sota City Cluster

The minotaurs captured King Melny, Alistair, and Wolf very quickly, along with the half-dozen children they had rescued. The minotaurs were infuriated that Alistair and King Melny had broken their vow to never reveal the secrets of the Undermaze, even for children's safety. They considered abandoning King Melny and Alistair deep under Sota City, by the Apocalypse Ship. If The Outsider wanted them to survive... they would.

The rival minotaur, Artur, broke into the prison with his bulls, and rescued all of them on Passouan 17.

Passouan 18-30

Unfortunately I couldn't host the next week. We had a family trip to do. So I wrote up a new set of prompts for them to answer. With kids getting sick the next week, I decided to extend the timeframe the prompt happened under.

Sota City

The Knight (the death knight leader of the infinite zombie horde that's always streaming out beneath Sota City), comes under a flag of truce and declares those mortals who work under him won't be eaten. He offers clear and obvious terms: lieutenants in his army and full protection. 

Lord Auguste promises any who accept this offer will be shot immediately. Some still manage to desert to the Knight.

Parties are held on the walls to taunt the undead who can't get up there without help from the dragon.

Raphael

I don't debate. I act.

I kick a chair off the wall, wine falling below, and draw steel just long enough to make a point. I glance from the Knight's tidy little flap of truce to Auguste's execution promises and sigh:

"Immortality with benefits or loyalty with a firing squad," I say dryly. "Hard choice," I wave my blade at the gate. "If you're going to leave, do it quickly. The dragon hates late exits."

I grab a fresh drink, lean back against the battlement, and toast the dead below. "Sorry boys, private party."

The Undermaze

Artur is poisoned by an ex-lover, and collapses. An insurrection is led, but ARtur's supporters bring out Solidified Flame and use it to break the will of the insurrectionists. The victory is celebrated, tense as it is.

Alistair

I attempt to use the sword (which heals what it cuts) to save Artur (Weaver note: success!).

During the week, I spend time with the insurrectionists, mostly just to listen to their grievances so they can be brought forward so the responses and reasoning can rectified.

King Melny

King Melny spent time with Alistair, but to see how he could manipulate the minotaurs.

Sonnon 1-7

... and then we lost another week. This one was more due to total scheduling SNAFUs, along with kids going to bed way too late. So we're coming up on a month with no actual play sessions! I was pretty discouraged. It also didn't help that I had been getting news of multiple family members coming down with cancer amidst everything... and just wanted a break. And couldn't get one. But, I figured "What the hell, why not," and sent out another pair of prompts.

Sota City

The Argentum Empire has arrived, with a full army... and are taking over the human part of the operations from the Ferrens. Forcibly. Any commoner who disagrees is exiled. Several knights would wouldn't accept a commission in the Argenti army are publicly executed.

There's a real supply chain now.

The Argenti are much more... sensual.. than the dour Ferrens. They bring plenty of women, openly, and the ensuing debauchery for the Festival of the Solar Trial, when Telos begged for the children Arvoita before the betrayed Outsider) shocks the Ferrens, who at least keep their whores hidden in their tents.

Raphael

I stood on the edge of the celebrations, armor on, eyes everywhere, while the Argenti drank, laughed, and claimed the camp. I made sure the supply lines held and the executives stayed a finished business. Festivals make people careless - so I stayed sharp, counting blades, watching loyalties shift, and preparing for whatever happens after music stops.

The Undermaze- Sota Cluster

The queenslings, a race of beautiful women made out of stuff darker than shadows, seeking anything warm to drain, happened upon the minotaur cluster. They drained several of the bulls of their warmth, creating undead thralls of them. They struck during the feast of the Solar Trial, and if not for the festival it would have gotten worse. They were driven away... and then the funnels began.

King Melny

"I can fix her".

I would most likely stay out of sight and observe. seeing what can be seen and what could possibly be learned from the encounter. As well as see what would be used to my advantage.

Alistair

Alistair was a part of the team driving away the queenslings. Light will touch all.

Chapter 3, Sonnon 8

Finally, we had an opportunity to play!

And it all seemed to fall apart.

Tasha had an emergency she had to take care of, right then and there. Cal's internet was out as part of an ongoing issue, and he still couldn't play. So, I asked Jesse if he "just" wanted to a 1v1. Normally Jesse doesn't do those. He likes the interplay between the people. But it had been so long.

And what happened was pure gold.

Reflections

Honestly, folks, since Christmas has been rough on me and mine. There's been a ton of illness, terminal announcements, and games just haven't run. I know what would normally be happening right at my tables if something like this hit: the steam would be slowly coming out of the campaign. It just would.

That isn't what happened. Quite the opposite. We just kept running the off-session prompts, let time pass organically, and when even one freaking person could get on and play, we had a blast. The momentum of the campaign didn't stall, it didn't even stutter. I have never seen anything like this, period. If anything, momentum continued to build, even with more missed sessions and real-world tragedies!

The Dragon's Fire: Book 3, Chapter 2

The Dragon's Fire: Book 3, Chapter 1

I Can't Wait Anymore

A friend of mine died over the weekend. She happened to be my boss. After a seven year fight with terminal liver cancer, she finally gave out.

Yes, seven years.

Terminal.

Fucking.

Liver cancer.

I didn't have to imagine it. I watched it. Watched her.

She'd come in, trying to keep the brave face on, and she was just wracked in agony. We'd all watch her, hoping she was going to be okay. And she'd smile at us, walk up to our stations, and ask us how our days were going. She'd sit there, clearly trying to not cry out in pain, so she'd just focus on us talking.

So we'd talk.

And talk.

And after a few minutes, she'd go back to her office, and we'd go back to our work. But I would keep a weather eye out. We all did. Not that it did any good. She hid a good amount from us. We'd find out later about yet another fainting spell and yell at her for hiding it, because we were wondering! We wanted to know! She'd nod, tell us she would the next time (she never did), and we would move on with our lives.

This last Friday we were told she was in the ICU. And had been. The doctors gave her two days. I got up, told our shift lead I was going to see her, and left. Nobody stopped me. I drove over to the hospital. I was prepared for it to be bad. I thought I was ready.

God, I was so wrong.

She was barely there. And, for the first time in my life,  I understood why people pushed for euthanasia. I felt like I was watching something I shouldn't. I had no right to see her like this. She was fighting for her life, and I was just standing there like an idiot trying to tell her...

What would I tell her?

I was told she could hear me.

It didn't look like it, but so what? Who cares what I see? Maybe she could!

So I opened my mouth and tried to say hi. That didn't come out. Seemed so shallow. Stupid. I just stood there, looking at her and not knowing what to say. 

"Hi. I told Matt you were here. He's coming too. I think others are coming as well. He told them, because he's Matt. I told him, because I'm me." Good God this was sounding stupid, what do you tell someone??? "Um, I'm going to try and come back later with Maria and the kids. They should meet you. We did always want you two to meet." Great, more stupidity. I felt like a total moron. I had nothing to give her! Why didn't I have anything? She was lying there and fighting for her life and that was all I had???

"Um. I'll be back later," I said, lamely. "Hang in there. I'll try and get Maria to you."

I didn't.  Couldn't. The kids were having a hard time, so Maria told me to go back. And I did. I walked in, and she looked... well the word isn't better, but it's a comparative word that means improved, so I guess it'll work. "I'm sorry. Stuff's crazy at home. I couldn't bring Maria. You would have liked her. She's nicer than me. But, you already knew that." I was trying to tell her something and suddenly I didn't have the fucking courage. I started kicking myself. I needed to say it! Who knew when I'd be able to say it?

I held up my hand. "I've held five jobs in my whole life. Five. I'm thirty-seven, and have only had five jobs. If you hadn't have given me this one, I genuinely don't know where my family would be right now. If you hadn't of defended me from all the people I've pissed off over the years,  my family would be hungry. I am not sure what you saw, but I'm glad you did. Thank you. I will try to pay it forward. I promise."

I couldn't stand it anymore. I had to go, I couldn't watch this. 

I wiped my eyes and left. And turned one last time "You have my permission to kick this thing's ass. You... you got this." And with that I left.

I had no idea then. She was getting better. Her glucose levels had tripled in two hours, and that didn't mean she was good but this juggernaut of a woman had come back from worse. She might have made it, and I allowed myself to hope for it. I relaxed. This was going to be just like the other times. I tried to be certain about it. Tried.

Two days later, I was standing in liturgy when my phone began to blow up in my pocket. Which usually meant work's groupchat. And a part of me knew. Before I even pull the phone out.

I read the message.

And sat down.

And ignored the phone for the rest of liturgy.

I wasn't a large part of this person's life, but I suddenly understood what I had been doing at my station: I was waiting for her to come up, sit down, and need someone to talk to. I was never terribly good at it, but I tried. And then waited for the next opportunity to say something that didn't sound so damn stupid. Maybe next time something actually intelligible would come out. So I would wait and hope that the next time would be different. That I would finally tell her something that was worthy of her coming up to me and asking for company.

But it never happened.

And that's it.

Dark Souls: Third Session Report

 

This third session of Dark Souls went really well! We have:

• Hazbil the Knight. Starts at level 2, ends the session at level 4.
• Fizbun the Pyromancer. Starts at level 2, ends the session at level 3
• Onely the Deprived. Starts at level three, ends the session at level 3.

Throughout this session, Onely donates all of his souls to Hazbil, to try and get him to level 4, so that he can start wielding the Astora greatsword.

Also: my exact memory is fuzzy. It's been a long week. I remember what happened, but my connective tissue may be spotty.

The Adventure

At the end of last session they were all shredded by a mysterious red spirit, and reappeared at the second bonfire. The door right in front of them will lead back to that They go down the door to the right. A ghostly spirit stands there, and says "Tell me why you're worthy." They answer, and the spirit likes the answers. It vanishes into all three of them, and they have a bunch of souls now.

There's two doors, left and right. Fizbun goes right, finds an open portcullis, which leads out to a world of utter ice. Onely goes to the left door and finds a golden sign. Onely makes Arcana, and realizes gold is good. He touches it, and out comes a knight, who offers his service.

They go back to the room with the red sign, jump the red spirit that comes out, and chew right through him. The golden knight vanishes. Hazbil and Fizbun now have enough souls to level up, so they go back through the door and Fizbun is now level three. The tension of not being able to spend souls to level up is discussed.

They go back up to the door with the golden knight to see if the sign reset. It has. But standing there is a freakishly tall, gaunt figure, who smiles hungrily at Onely... who smiles back. They stare at each other a minute, and the tall figure introduces himself as Ghorm. He asks if they can look for someone whistling a tune, to a song he can't remember anymore. The players say they will.

They go where they saw Ghorm come from, and find a door to the right, and a staircase to the left. Fizbun checks the door, and when he finds that it's fine, he opens it up, to find the Pyromancy spell Fireburst: damage in a cone, no Position needs to be spent to activate it. He equips it immediately. He goes goes round the corner to find a huge door. He calls the others to him, and they just... open the door..

And freeze solid. The wind blows the door open, and they die instantly. Lose all their souls... and that hurts. They realize they never actually checked the door, they just opened it, without a second thought. I smile cruelly.

They go and close the door to keep the wind from getting into the rest of the complex, and succeed. There's a stair to the left, and they go up... and Hazbil starts hearing a voice to touch the purple summon sign up there. He doesn't. They go beyond it, and find another spirit who asks them to tell them why they're worthy. They give different answers, the spirit approves, and now they have a bunch more souls... and Hazbil goes and touches the purple sign. They kill the spirit who comes out, and now Hazbil has enough souls to get to level four, which would let him use the Astora greatsword they picked up for him in session two. They go and cash in. 

When they go back to the staircase with the purple sign, they find another stranger: Nebt, who wants to put a soul to rest with a  gift of his favorite whip. Which Fizbun happens to have. Fizbun gives it for a ton of souls.

They manage to keep Hazbil from touching the purple sign again, and go beyond it. There's another staircase to the left (leading back to where the red sign was) and two doors to the right. Fizbun checks the rightmost door: it's trapped, designed to put in more of that freezing cold air. The other-right door leads to a place where there's just a bunch of wreckage and a 60 foot chain. They manage to jam the trap on the rightmost door, and get through.

Sitting next to other side of the door, biting his nails, was Touless... who was looking for a flower. A rare rare flower. He thanked them for opening the door, because he didn't know how, and started to walk through. Onely tried to stop him. Touless drew a knife, and gently asked to be let loose.

Fizbun went beyond, and found a larger area, with three doors, one at the bottom of a flight of stairs. He opened that door.

Onto a crystal lizard's ass.

Fizbun gently closed the door.

He checked the other two doors, and found one had a purple sign right up against the door. Onely, wanting a fight, went and stepped on it, against everyone else's wishes.

The materializing spirit was hit with wave upon wave of steel and a newly discovered fire spray... which almost killed Onely. Fizbun told Onely he ever did that again he would kill him.

Takeways

Three sessions in, and they're learning the game. Fights are now heavily one-sided affairs when they're engaged in, and avoided at all costs otherwise.... except when Onely wants just a few more souls. The addition of the NPCs from the random rolls made the tone here a lot different, but it was a welcome break.

This game is showing depth. And we're having a blast.

The session ended with a clash of steel and ego. Against the party's wishes, Onely triggered a purple summon sign. The resulting spirit nearly claimed his life, leading to the first real crack in the party's facade: Fizbun’s fire-laced threat. The honeymoon phase of the campaign is officially over."

The Elephant in the Room: River's Soul, Part 3

From 2004 and on I began having dreams of a little black-haired girl. These dreams would go from fighting monsters (and losing) to sitting on a park bench, and this small girl would come and lay her head on my shoulder. Increasingly, she would snuggle into my neck and mutter something, with a softly understated emotion. For whatever reason these dreams bothered me. Try as I might, I couldn’t understand. But she kept coming back. I would wake up more disturbed each time. For whatever reason, her just sitting there really disturbed me. The monster dreams were terrifying! Don't get me wrong! Those were some of the most visceral dreams I have ever experienced. I would wake up screaming in agony. But just sitting on a park bench with a little girl, who kept whispering indecipherable things into my neck, really bothered me. And these just kept going. For years. Hell, sometimes they happen even now.

After a particularly rough year in 2009, I dropped out of college and began repairing my life. I began dating my childhood sweetheart, who I would eventually marry. I reconnected with my parents. I made something more of myself. On a random trip to go pick up my sister from her college, Benedictine in Atchison, KS, I experienced such a profound peace that I knew I had to go there. No, it made absolutely no sense. But I felt that I needed to go here.

So I did.

Maria joined me a little while later.

For the first year it was fine... and then I moved off-campus, and it got bad. There had always been a vague unease I had, being in town, but I was a college student who didn't have a car, o I normally didn't really pay it much mind. Well, now I was living off-campus. And that vague unease turned to a constant anxiety that literally went away if I left the damn town. It was eerie. It made no damn sense.

I didn't "dream" in the way that I used to... assuming I slept. The low-scale spiritual equivalent of "fingernails on a chalkboard" exhausted and overwhelmed me so that  I couldn't relax enough to sleep. It was then that I started doing research... to find that I was in the most haunted town in Kansas, home of "Scratching Sallie". And, when I did sleep, usually after hours of lying in my bed unable to relax, I would wake up to find the black-haired girl sitting at the head of my bed, right next to me. Sometimes she was looking at the floor. Or my prayer corner.

Or, you know, at me.

Kinda like this.

You do one thing when you wake up at 4 am (or so) and find a stranger next to you, no matter how normal they look, or not. I screamed. Every time. So would she. And then she’d vanish. Right before my eyes. Of course I didn’t sleep the rest of the night... and already wasn't sleeping. I began dreading sleep, which meant I slept even less, which meant I needed more sleep. Over time a profound dread of going to bed worked its way into me. The "fingernails on a chalkboard" feel in my soul got louder and louder and louder. It was almost audible, at times. And it never. Ever. Stopped. While I was in Atchison.

I tried to figure out what was going on, to no avail. There wasn’t a history of my apartment being haunted. Scratching Sallie was said to be aggressive, and I had had these dreams before going to Atchison, so I began to wonder if I was being followed around by a demon. So I went to an exorcist, he was puzzled. I had no “red flags”. There was nothing to banish! No spirits of any kind were attached, nevermind afflicting me. Psych evals, which the exorcist insisted I take, came back clean, too. The psychologist said that if I was delusional, none of these events, whatever they were, would be bothering me. I was in great distress, because I had knew it wasn't normal. Whatever this was, it was something else.

I became moodier and moodier, and more and more reclusive. Thinking hurt. Breathing hurt. But something in me kept saying, over and over again, that I was meant to be here. And it had never been wrong before. Ever. This one little voice had kept me going through the worst times before, and I had no business not trusting it.

It all came to a head one hot summer night. The screeching in my soul had reached a newly fevered pitch. I slipped out the door and meandered, searching for something. Anything.

And then I found it.

The river.

Dark and swift and silent, it ran before me, with riptides that made it impossible to swim in. I considered this last fact far longer than I should have, staring into the wet darkness.

I couldn’t take it anymore! Why was I suffering so? And why why why was every last bit of intuition telling me to stay in this hell??? I stood, there, just looking at the water. Thinking.

After a few moments, the river’s swiftness brought silence. Not quiet. Silence. And its darkness gave me something far more valuable than light. For a few moments I could see it all. All of it. Heaven, Hell, mortals, all the worlds. There was such a beauty, it was so incredible. 

And, somehow, I was just like it. I reflected back onto the universe. The microcosm and macrocosm were inseparable. In that second. That split second! I knew this was going somewhere. Because the universe was okay and was able to get past whatever was going on, I would be okay. I have no idea why I believed it so much, because it doesn’t make a lick of sense. What does the world actually have to do with me? But I really did believe it. And in retrospect, I was correct for doing so. So I plodded home, limbs suddenly leaden. I collapsed into my bed. Without any fear. I just lay down and slept.

I awoke in a cold sweat. My skin had been peeling under the heat of some fire in the dream. 

And there she was. 

But this time

I didn’t scream. I started, sure, but I didn’t scream. I’d never really looked at her. In that small eternity, I finally did. 

She trembled.

What spirit trembled, like a little girl? Seriously? A surge of guilt tentatively went through me. I had been so afraid of her, so disoriented, so perplexed, that I had never, not even once, considered what screaming might do to her, if she had been a little girl. I watched as this little girl steeled herself in an act of courage I know I couldn’t have done at her age. And we both got a true look at each other.

This is closer to what she actually she looked like.

She sat in pastel pajamas, with some cutesy floral pattern. Her face was sensitive, alive, whole. Her skin was healthy. Her hands had the proper digits. Yes, I counted. Like I said, I really tried to look. And then the tragic truth broke through, really and actually broke through, softly. Certain.

This was no ghost or spirit. 

Just a little girl.

She wasn't tormenting me. She wasn't evil. She was just as lost as I was, and I hadn’t considered that she wasn’t a demon or Scratching Sally or Lilith or whatever other horror I imagined that whole time. It simply never occurred to me she was just… a person. 

For one moment, one uncanny eternity, our eyes locked. She didn’t scream, nor did she flinch. She stared into me. I wish I could tell you what I saw, when I looked into her eyes.

But her soul was more than the river’s. And that had shown me everything… or so I thought. I had been wrong. I can't use words to adequately express what I saw.

I don’t remember falling asleep.

But when I opened my eyes, I was alone. 

And I missed Maria the way you miss your lungs.

Dark Souls: Second Play Session Report

So the players agreed to play through a short game of Dark Souls after the utter joy that was the first session! We rotate GMs, and the other GM had a campaign in mind, but he was having a good time, and said he would be happy to wait a few more weeks as we finish this up. I realized I had forgotten to include the summoning signs in my first session (which are in the core rulebook as an option rule) and thus fixed that as well.

Today we added Onely, the Deprived! Deprived is a special class in Dark Souls: you start with pretty much nothing, but can basically build your own class as you go. Obviously, the further along you go, the more broken this becomes, but... let's be honest... you gotta make that far. And given that you can go hollow and just lose the character... it is actually a risk.

Hazbil and Fizbun reappeared at the first bonfire, and their way back to the room before the undead hounds that had killed them. They realized they'd never really searched this room, they'd just gone through the door. Searching, they found a secret, third door! How about that! Fizbun checked the door, found it was unlocked and trapped. He realized there was a counterweight system, so something was going to swing through the door at him. By this time Onely had shown up. After some short introductions, Fizbun told everyone to get clear, and he opened the door. Down came a huge scythe, which would assuredly have cut any of them in half. 

Hazbil and Onely stepped through the door, around the scythe. Hazbil stepped onto a purple summon sign... and out stepped a purple warrior with a scythe. In one swing Hazbil was dead.  

Fizbun slammed the door, trapping Onely with the mysterious attacker. The scythe  swung back in into place with the close of the door. Onely pushed it into the scythe, badly wounding the attacker... and was almost killed by the returning swing. Onely hit the creature in the face, and stunned it with a shout. He pushed it back into the way of the scythe. 

Onely reopened the door. 

The attacker was cut in half.

Onely looted a sword and smaller scythe off the corpse, and went back to the bonfire. Hazbil got his Strength back and then some from the bonfire warp. Hazbil and Onely had also gotten a bunch of souls from the death of the purple scythe-wielder, more than enough to level up. Fizbun... nope. You don't get souls for shutting the door and running away. Sorry. Not part of the combat. Hazbil took the sword, which granted bonus damage on the next hit against an attacker, and Onely kept the scythe, which allowed him to add damage onto an attack.

It was here that a rule point was clarified to me: you spend the souls to level up. While this is accurate to the video games, it means that leveling up in the Dark Souls TTRPG is a lot harder than in its 5e forbearer. And, since the blood stains were removed, if you die, you just lose the remaining souls, outright. I decided to run that rule RAW for the moment, but it is a curious change. Does make everyone more cautious though! Once you get a good amount of souls you need to find a bonfire and cash them in quick. The fact that it cuts out farming by grinding combats and boring everyone to tears is a plus, even if accuracy is lowered as a result.

They went back to the room of dogs, burst through the door, and earned the surprise round. Fizbun shot off a fireball... which did almost no damage. At all. Hazbil killed two of the four dogs in that opening round. He went before everyone else in the next round, and killed another dog. The remaining dog missed. Onely killed the dog in one shot. Revenge was sweet. They found a door, Fizbun rolled a nat 20 on the roll to check it... only to be told there was nothing wrong with it.

There was a staircase to the left, and a long hallway with alcoves to the right... which had a mysterious voice, ringing in their heads. They went to the right, and found a greatsword that Hazbil was ALMOST qualified for, so he kept it, along with a whip... and the soul of a lost maiden fighter, who gave them her souls. Fizbun kept the whip.

They came to a fork in the complex: left, towards a large staircase, or right, to a door. They went left, wary of doors. Who can blame them?

"Hello, fellow travellers." A creepy corpse stood up, with a large pack on his back. His name was Telvro, and he was now stuck in this "Keep of the Dragon" with them. He sold them stuff...

And that's when the players asked if they could sell each other stuff too, thus gaining souls from it. I didn't see why not, it's not that big a jump from the video games, where you can buy weapons for souls. They swapped equipment around, so specific people could level faster... and then Onely made Hazbil a deal. If Hazbil gave Onely his extra longsword, Onely would give him 100% of all souls necessary to get to level three. See, selling the longsword would allow Onely to level up. They asked me if this was kosher and again, why not? The longsword is gone. They can't use it. That someone levels up means their souls are spent. I don't know if anyone else would allow this, but I mean, the gamebook keeps telling me to make this thing my own! So here I am, doing that!

The group went up the stairs  and found a bonfire. Hooray! They also found another staircase to the left, with a door before them and to the right. They decided to go back down the other staircase, and opened that door they had avoided before.

Aaaaaand they found those cavern lizards from the first session. They slammed the door hurriedly, but the lizards rammed the wall... and brought the ceiling down. See, now that little piece of unfairness was adapted from The Tome of Journeys, where it says you can bring walls down for extra damage. Didn't seem like that much of a stretch to rule that the cavern lizards could just blow right through the wall and bring the ceiling down. Onely tried to argue that he could ignore the first killing blow in an encounter. I told him in the chilliest of tones that that was stupid: it was a caved-in ceiling, not a sword swing. No. Absolutely not. Everyone else laughed. Onely laughed and shrugged.

Everyone woke up back at the second bonfire they had just found. They checked the other staircase, only to find that the cavern lizards had broken through and were stomping around. They ran back up the stairs, but were followed by the cavern lizard. Desperate, they went through door on their left, praying this wall would hold.

It did.

But Hazbill accidentally stepped on a red summoning sign. And out stepped a red knight, and tore through them in an absolute whirlwind of death, as this knight could spend Position... and did. And just annihilated them all. 

They all reappeared the second bonfire.

Updated Encounter Rolls

So I realized I missed a few things, and edited the table. If you're using this, lemme know how it goes! 

Roll 1d12 and d20 every other turn:

**d12 (Events):**
- 1-2: Monster
- 3: Trap
- 4-5: Soul
- 6: Item
- 7: Bonfire chance (reroll d8; 1 = bonfire)
- 8-9: NPC (core book)
- 10-12: Nothing

**d20 (Signs):**
- 1: Purple Summon Sign
- 2: Red Summon Sign
- 3: Golden Summon Sign
- 4: White Summon Sign
- 5-20: Nothing

The Elephant in the Room: Sweetness, Part 2

 

I am conscious of the fact that I live more in my sleep than I do while awake. I don't think that's abnormal, per se, but the fact that I am conscious of this fact is extremely unusual. I am also aware that most of the memories I hold dear and influential are not known to any but I. And sometimes... sometimes I just get tired of it.

Like this one.

I sometimes have these hyper-aware dreams. I don't even know if they're really dreams. I can smell and taste the air, feel stuff in them that only comes with being awake. When I wake up from them it feels like I've come back from an impossibly long journey, and it takes me quite some time to readjust. there's one particular "dream" that sticks with me. If I can close my eyes I can always go  back to it, immediately.

It's pitch black, except for the glow of a fire. My skin's peeling, my breath won't come, and I realize that my eyeballs are about to fall out. I realize I am about to collapse into a column of ash, and darkness will come once again. But, for the moment, I am standing. I can't help it. 

She's here.

The black-haired girl.

I know, I know. This shit again. I get it.

But she was... she was smiling at me this time. 

You know, as I was burning to death. 

She had just asked me what I wanted from her. And, well, I had heard her. She saw me. She knew I had been there. Watching. And she was making an offer. I looked her up and down, in my haze of pain and smoke. You think I would have asked for a bucket of water, but I didn't. There was innocence to this person that always took me off guard. She was just... her. It made my heart ache with jealousy. I had never really gotten that. There was something whole in her, that hasn't been whole in me for longer than I know to tell you. I had fought and scratched and clawed to get even some of that innocence back, even a thousandth of what she possessed. And I had failed. And failed. And failed. And now I was on fire.

And she wanted to know what I wanted?

Again, no, the bucket did not come up.

I looked at her. And realized, with a quiet ache, that I was jealous, born of disbelief. Someone this innocent, this good, shouldn't exist and continue to be this good. She should not be possible. It was too much that I had found Maria already. I am still trying to wrap my head around the pure fact of my wife's existence, nevermind that she has stayed as good as she is. And that there was this child, who was so good, who had absolutely nothing to do with me, who I had no other interest in at all, and who could still be this good. Her existence upended everything I believed, in the most gentle way possible. She just was. And it woke up something in me that I want to tell you was a protective and burning rage. Or a fierce guardian badass energy. I think I've been doing that. And looking at that moment, even now, I want to tell you that's what was going on.

But I can't lie. Not anymore.

It was tenderness.

And, God help me, sweetness.

I know that sounds absolutely nuts, but in that moment, looking at this child, I felt the most tender of emotions towards her. She put a nail in the coffin of how I saw the world. Maria was a shining exception that I would protect with everything. This girl wasn't that. She was someone I had nothing to do with. And she was doing something... I don't know how... I just knew she was good. Without me having anything to do with it. And with that, she was killing every last bit of how I thought the world worked, because here she was! I wasn't... wherever she was. I had nothing at all to do with her. And she still existed. As silly and stupid as it is, that meant something to me. It still does.

It is a moment that lives on in my memory, rent-free: this little black-haired girl, looking at me with expectation of naming a price for something that was more or less just what I naturally would have done anyway. Especially the idiotic flames I had assumed. 

"I just want to see where this goes," came this croaking voice. 

I realized it was mine. I was startled. "I want to see what happens to you." It was the only thing I could think of as being a gift. I wanted to see that she stayed like how she was. I couldn't believe it, and knew I would never believe if I had to hear about it. I had to see it. Know she was just... there. My suicidal drive described as nobility had burned me out. All I had was my utter lack of faith and a quiet certainty somehow this could be made right.

She beamed. I wish I could tell you the smile she gave me then, because "beamed is such a shallow word. But it's all I got. "That's all? Out of all the things you could have wanted."

I said "I have everything else I need. Everything. I just wanna know if you make it. I have to know if you make it."

For a long time I didn't admit that I said more. I am now. I didn't just say that. I said: "If I don't know what happens to you, I would always worry." And it came out as this pathetic croak. I was dying. I could feel it. I had no time left. Looking back on it I know it wasn't the fire that was killing me; I was killing me. This girl needed light. I could have found any way to do it, but I had set myself alight! Maria was saving me, one day at a time, but right there? I had screwed up. I needed to get moving now. I knew if I didn't know what happened to this person I wouldn't try hard enough in the next few minutes. And I needed to. So I said it again, in that horrible voice of someone burning to death. "If I don't know what happens to you, I would always worry. I can't help it. Please," I croaked. "Don't let me wonder if you make it. Please. I don't have that kind of hope. I can't trust like that. Not won't," and here my voice finally gave out, and I collapsed in a shower of sparks onto my hands and knees. "Can't".

And she smiled even more happily. I honestly didn't know someone not Maria could look that happy. And I have seen Maria laugh so hard that it broke my heart and reforged it in a second. I have seen happiness. And here it was, again. "You could have asked for anything."  And suddenly I understood what she meant. There was the sense that I was owed, somehow. And no price in the face of what I had done was too high. There was a funny whiplash moment where I realized that there had been a test, just now. And I had passed. Somehow. 

A door of light opened beside her, and she walked towards it. The flames around me began to die down. My jaw dropped. I had forgotten those existed. The little girl had just opened it,  because we all can. I realized I used to know that. And, instead of just... doing what was natural to all of us... I lit myself on fire??? The absurdity finally hit me... as did the evil of it. I had, on reflex, chosen to hurt myself rather than ask for help. That I had forgotten didn't change the fact that I was on fire. So much more could have been done, had I not resorted to my own evil to do it.

What had I passed? 

I looked at her. Really really looked. With the soft breeze came wisdom. I realized she had  been trembling. The black-haired girl had been scared when she asked me what I wanted. And I hadn't noticed.

It was in that moment when I realized I wasn't in a dream. Truly. I could only guess at why she was scared, but something in me realized that her words were not offered in confidence, but out of nerves. and I had given the only answer that could have possibly been right. By accident. My mistakes had led to something much greater.

And suddenly I realized: Somehow this had all gone right, despite everything. It was going to be okay.

The black-haired girl stood before the light door, turned and looked at me and I just about split open with her smile. "I will see you again," she said in her entirely too proper English. There was a surety in what she said that I trusted, at once. I knew I would. I wasn't sad. I was on fire and about to die. But I wasn't sad. And she stepped through the door. Which began to close, and I could feel the flames going out with a breeze coming out of the door.

I woke up to the smell of burning flesh. 

My skin was intact. 

It was the dark. 

It was quiet.

Dark Souls RPG: First Session Play Report

 

So we ran a test session of the Dark Souls RPG Saturday. Two players (Billy, Sir Hazbil the Knight, and Nate, Fizbun the Pyromancer). It had been awhile since I had played this game, and it was a blast! We laughed, we laughed, we cringed hard, and laughed more. Despite me having all three books in the line, we only used the core. Mine's shiny. It's so nice. We made characters and played for a little while. I grabbed a random map off the web, printed it off, and resolved to use my encounter dice to populate it as we went. I grabbed the Cathedral of the Deep from page 248 of the Core Book for the random monsters and other stuff.

Character Generation

This was a breeze. The options were "lacking", in the sense that you just had prepackaged stuff that you picked from, with a lot of illusory choice, but it sure makes character creation quick. 

Random Encounter Dice

Now, there are two ways that the book sort of presents prepping an adventure: make a site or a typical "trad" storygame. I cannot overemphasize how poorly the book serves both approaches, and if I had a true and actual criticism of this game, it would be this lukewarm support in lieu of "figure it out yourself". Fortunately, I have designed my own games and have read tons of OSR stuff, so I just took a few ideas and ran with them. I had some ideas on how I might do that.

I figured out quickly that my initial ideas on random encounters for Dark Souls wouldn't capture the full scope of the game. At all. I also hate the fact that there isn't an easy way to just randomly generate equipment. That's going to trip me up later. 

But, for now, I decided to go with two dice - d8 and d20 - rolled every other turn, in areas you have not explored.

Step 1: The Danger Check (d8)

Roll	Result
1–2	Monster: Roll on the Cathedral of the Deep table (p. 248).
3	Trap: Electric doorknobs, mimics, or pressure plates.
4	Soul: A Fading Soul or Large Soul of a Deserted Corpse.
5	Item: Random equipment or "rubbish."
6	Bonfire: Only if you confirm with a second "1" on a d8.
7–8	Nothing: Eerie silence... for now.

Step 2: The World Tendency (d20)

Roll	Result
1–3	Summon Sign: Roll for Purple (Mad), Red (Hostile), or Gold (Sunbro).
4	White Sign: Restores one player and one ally to full Position.
5–7	Shopkeep: A hollow merchant with overpriced Moss Clumps.
8–20	The Dark: No cosmic interference this turn.

The Adventure

Sir Hazbil and Fizbun came to around a bonfire, in a room that was locked from the outside. Sir Hazbil attempted to pop the doorknob off with his sword and managed to just get clear in time to not get the full electric shock: the door was trapped! Fizbun refused to spend position to set the wooden door on fire.. so Sir Hazbil hacked the door open. They found a room filled with rotting furniture. Sir Hazbil opened the next door, only to find himself staring up at huge two cavern lizards... who were leering at him. Sir Hazbil charged, connected with his longsword... and the cavern lizard didn't even flinch. He squashed Sir Hazbil without even trying.

Fizbun gently closed the door. 

And went back to the bonfire. Sir Hazbil was somehow feeling hardier (his Position/HP max had gone from 13 to 16). Only to find the door had restored itself as soon as he went in. They rehacked the door open, and started checking around... only to find there was a secret door in the same room their bonfire. They came out into a chamber with two doors, one to the front and one to the right.

Fizbun opened the door onto a lovely view of a cavern lizard's ass.

Fizbun gently closed the door.

They tried the other door, and found four undead hounds were minding their own business... and somehow they hadn't disturbed them. The hounds stood between them and another door to the front and a staircase to the left. So Sir Hazbil charged! Fizbun actually threw flame this time! They were putting up a good fight... until an unlucky crit took Sir Hazbil down. By that time there were two hounds and one of them was badly injured, so Fizbun figured he could finish them off.

Fizbun was wrong.

They both woke up at the bonfire. This time Sir Hazbil was weaker... and could no longer wear his armor. His respawning had weakened his Strength score by 1, making him unable to wear the Knight's Armor! Fizbun managed to get a -1 to his Charisma score... which is what he uses to cast spells.

We laughed our asses off.

And called it a session, coz Billy had to go.

Gameplay

The people who say this game doesn't play well are lying. They just are. There's more than a few reviews of this game that claim to have direct play experience that are absolutely lying their asses off, or are filled with players so impossibly stupid that I worry for their ability to walk and chew bubblegum at the same time. And I say this because this game ran really smoothly! Again! With a completely different group!

So Position is used for three things: improve your d20 roll, 1 for 1 (no limit), improve your damage, 1 for 1 (minimum of 5), and improve speed, 1 for 5 extra feet (can't do more than double speed). 

If your Position drops to 0 you die and go back to the last bonfire... where you have to roll to see if something random (mostly awful) happens to you. It's a DC 18 Wisdom save. You're gonna fail it a lot.

Burning Position/HP to improve rolls is an incredible thing to do. Each failed roll (and there were a lot of them) the question became: given that getting hitting by a sneak attack right now would send me back to the bonfire, do I burn the health now, making a future possible hit worse, or do I whiff and hope the monster misses? Not all the monsters can burn Position like the Players can, and I didn't throw any of those at the Players, so they didn't have to balance that out. Yet. But each Player roll was intense. And this is the only game I have ever played that has justified a passive defense for the players: you can't spend Position on the GM's attack roll, so it's a genuine guess as to what could happen! The players intuited this problem immediately and had a great time measuring risk. We'll see what happens as they go through the dungeon. They're worse off than they were before, mechanically, but now the shock has worn off. 

We will see what the players do next week. But we had a blast. Especially Billy, who now is walking around naked, with a shield. His AC is now lower than the pyromancer's.

What could go wrong?

Galahads: Can You Do It Again?

 

The experience of designing Crescendo was unlike anything I had gone through before. What most call “design”, I have found to be refinement. Purification. What most call design is simply taking an idea that already existed and working it. What I did with Crescendo was not that. It was the discovery of an object that did not exist, but should. Playtesting was discovery of something that we could all feel, but not necessarily see or understand. I felt more like a gardener, refining something that was growing apart from whatever I was putting into it.

Somehow, some way, I am supposed to do that again with Galahads. Can I, however? Is that a possibility? Is it advisable?

Attempting to Clarify the Question in the Title

The vast majority of "design" in the RPG space is iteration. This shouldn't be a controversial thing to say. I hope it isn't shocking, at the least. The vast majority of our TTRPG space is just an iteration of 3rd edition Dungeons and Dragons, as exemplified in 5.5 DnD. RPGers are a hilariously conservative bunch, by and large. A small subsection of our hobby proves our conservative nature, by being as reactionary as possible. What, you think something like Thirsty Sword Lesbians isn't reactionary in nature? Most of the storygaming sphere is just that: a reaction against. But reactionaries will never win their war. Storygaming as it exists is doomed, as the OSRites claim... they don't just understand they're just as badly off. What I am doing is not conservative, nor is it reactionary. I want to create, to pull something out what could be, should be, but isn't.

With the advent of Enter Sandman, I saw something unusual: what a creative act actually is. And, because I saw what real creativity looked like, just for a moment, I knew what I needed to do on my end.

Anyone who thinks I'm saying The Warning's cover of Enter Sandman is the only creative thing in the world desperately needs to reread.

For lack of a better word, I found an experience, that I knew had never been done before. It was just sitting there. Like a chess piece under the couch. I held this chess piece in my mind, and resolved to never let go of it. 

What was that experience, you may ask?

• A slow burn igniting into an unpredictable climax of drama.
• Deeply personal, psychological gameplay that allows people to push their boundaries in a safe and entertaining manner
• All happening across a mythic and tragic backdrop. The world turns and rots and burns on a scale no one can truly master.

I dove in. And it was the most wonderfully terrifying task I ever set mind to. I knew what I needed to honor: this shining thing that filled my mind's eye with a bright darkness. So I just.. ran the game. A ton. An absolute ton. I paid attention to how everyone seemed to react to the sessions, and whether or not it fit the Chess Piece I had found. I obsessed over what would evoke the experience as I saw it. I wanted people to find the same piece I found, and the rules were the map to finding the Chess Piece.

And it worked.

I'm absolutely in awe of that. I honestly don't know what to do with it. No, I didn't make the perfect map to the experience that Crescendo points to, but it works really well. I may need to refine the map over the years, but for the moment I have reached the limit of my talent, and need time to grow, to see if I can make the map better later.

Honestly, I was wondering if I was done with designing after that. I made a bunch of different games, and the playtests for all of them came back really nicely: Dragons and Planets and The Right Thing, particularly. I may still release those, but those are simply refinements and remixes of Crescendo. I don’t find that to be terribly compelling. I can do that kinda thing ad nauseum, but at that point it's just flooding the market with more stuff in the same table milieu. Someone shouldn't be looking at what I make and go "Well, when I have time". I want them to see something legitimately different, which doesn't compete with what they love already, but shows them a new way to do things.

Crescendo is a new way to do things. Heranyt, the science fantasy setting I am making for Crescendo, makes Crescendo weirder, a different thing entirely even from core Crescendo. I am currently toying with the idea of making modern, Western, and sci fi settings for Crescendo, because I think I could fundamentally change the way the game is played, each time.

So when I ask, in the title "Can You Do It Again".... that is what I am asking. Can I be a gardener to Something Else?

The Danger of Principles

I have long been aware of a central problem of life: the solutions you find in life are the source of further problems. You cannot assume that what you found that worked before will work the next time. As you build solutions, you will find that the temptation will be to keep defaulting to what worked before. So long as the square hole has some somewhat rounded edges, you'll go for it.

People who do not understand this have a very hard later lot in life.

Not that I am saying I do this, on reflex. Past solutions being good for present problems is a reflex thing, of your nervous system. 

And man it's tripping me up right now.

The thing that I found I did with stuff like The Right Thing and Dragons and Planets is that I just assumed the things that worked for Crescendo could be ported over to something else.

But that's  refinement, not gardening. It's not finding, discovery, of a new chess piece. Is there a way to do that reliably? I don't know. 

But I'm either flipping the table or quitting. And I have no intention to quit. What will I find when I reach back under the couch?