Friday, May 29, 2015

The Climbers Recap: Playing at the Music Bowl, Part II

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We return to the Climbers as a new problem boils over: White has infected the food supply with the spores. As fear of hunger rears its head the PCs attempt to maintain stability. Or at least their own lives.

As in my earlier actual play reports, small green text indicates out of character talk, mechanics and other game aspects outside of the fiction.

Our main characters are:
  • Gator (the Gunlugger) is an assassin and part-time bodyguard who wears customized scrounged armor made from Kevlar and ceramic inserts. Camouflaged for the jungle, his face was ruined in a fight with an alligator. His eyes are always sizing things up and his brutal life has left his body a hard sheet of muscle. He recently obtained a gang of mercenaries. Then he got blown up.
  • Jarhead (the Savvyhead) is a thin African-American man with a short goatee, long dreads, and clothes covered in pockets and gear. Travelling around in an old news van, he repairs items for a living. He is investigating a device that can bend space and time. He has also obtained employees in the form of a young woman Allison and her brother Waters as well as a little girl named Memo.
  • November Orleans (the Skinner turned Battlebabe) is descended from a family which left New Orleans before it sank. She is a beautiful woman of mixed heritage with dark eyes and skin, a sweet face and lush body. She dresses herself in a mix of scavenged clothing that somehow works together and wears a necklace made from rows of antique coins which jingle and shine as she moves. Her main profession is as a dancer, especially belly dancing, but she has a sideline business in cooking and animal training.
  • Violet Jefferson (the Touchstone) is descended by survivalists and her clothing and gear reflects her origins. Plain looking but fit, she carries a pocket copy of the Federalist papers and founding documents of the United States of America, an idea she hopes to revive. Her followers are demanding her help putting on a mission to liberate Miami from a tyrant.
The current highlighting is:
  • Violet: Sharp and Hard.
  • Jarhead: Weird and Cool.
  • November: Hot and Weird.
  • Gator: Sharp and Weird.

Playing at the Music Bowl, Part II

We start the second half with Jarhead and Gator.

Jarhead opens his brain and gets an 8. He marks experience.

I ask, "who did you lose to the climbers?"

Jarhead answers, “my mother, once I lost her I started wandering.”


Jarhead’s mind races as he makes for the entrance. He reaches out, visualizing what lies beyond the steel doors. The rattling of the roar and the crunch of the vehicle’s tread forms the faint outline of large rusty pickup in his mind. The doors stand firm. But are they firm enough?

“What’s that?” Allison asks, sleepily. She turns to the far side of the shop as Gator steps out of the way of the door, pulling his MP5. “Waters stay in the van,” she calls back.

Jarhead reaches the door and flicks the light switch.

He rolls Acting under fire. He rolls weird due to Spooky Intense, marks experience and gets a 6.

The truck crashes with the doors, sending one flying outward and off of its hinges. A spray of brick flies through the room as Allison ducks for cover. As the pickup comes to a halt in the shattered entranceway, the other door fall to the floor, revealing a bruised and broken Jarhead.

I kindly inflict only 2-harm.

Gator moves to cover, taking in the blood stained star pattern on the passenger side. As the driver shakes off the trauma, the rest of the gang moves into room.

“I suggest you get your things and get out of here,” Gator shouts, revealing himself. “Leave the pickup though, it’s not going anywhere.”

“We need to get our food,” a squinty eyed man yells.

“There’s food elsewhere.”

“Who are you?” he says pointing a rusty handgun at him.

“I’m Gator,” the mercenary says coldly.

“I don’t know who you are Gator but there are more of us than there are of you. Get lost.”

Gator grins and raises his gun. “I suggest you put your things on the ground boys.”

Gator Goes aggro and gets a 14. He has this move advanced, so they have no option to fight back.

A man with spiky hair puts a hand on the other’s shoulder. “That’s the guy! That’s Gator. He’s the one that got blown up in the Autodoc. They said he was dead.”

“I heard about that guy,” a red haired man says, wiping his face. “I heard he murdered a whole holding once.”

“Look!” the boss of the gang says. “He’s got a fucking rocket launcher on his back! We’re going to get murdered!”

“Let’s get out of here!” the first speaker says. In mad scramble, they run and drop their weapons, leaving a pile of old pistols, knives, clubs and a pair of shotguns.

Jarhead picks himself off the ground. Stiffly he dusts off some of the debris from his outfit. He looks at the pile and steps forward.

“That is all of my stuff,” Gator says. He smiles and grabs a couple of guns.

“My associates need some way to defend themselves,” Jarhead says, wincing as he takes another step. “They are lacking in that.”

Allison rushes to his side. “Are you okay Jarhead? You look really hurt.”

Jarhead stumbles to a chair. “Yeah not thinking so good right now.”

“There is blood coming out of your ear,” she says.

“Yes, it does that.”

Gator wanders over. “I’ll sell it to you for something,” he offers.

“Don’t we have that thing for him?” Allison asks.

“It’s ready?” the warrior asks.

Jarhead starts to rise from his seat. “Yes, ow! Go get it.”

Allison rushes off and returns with a set of high tech goggles.

Gator examines them appreciatively. “How about this? You can keep all of this stuff if you keep my gear in good order.”

“How about I keep your stuff in good order if you keep us in good order,” Jarhead suggests. “Shit like this is not conducive for further work. Keep you supplied and happy if you keep us fit and happy.”

“What level of safe?” the hard man asks.

As Allison dabs his ear, Jarhead explains, “if we go start shit, you don’t have to finish it. But if someone is trying to do something like this, assistance will be appreciated.”

“OK. I’m alright with that.”

“Good, you can leave your stuff with us, we’ll take a look at it. I suggest you stick around for now. And hey look you’ve got a new car.”

Gator looks at the broken heap. “I’m not sure it’s going to work right now.”

“We’ll give that a look over too.” Jarhead grunts. “In the morning. I think I’ll take a nap.” Then he slumps over.

Memo walks over rubbing her eyes. “We should put him in the bed with the straps so he doesn’t fall out.”

“Does he normally fall out?” Gator asks the child.

“He doesn’t normally bleed from his ears.”

He shrugs. “Do whatever you want.”

”And so the creepy little girl straps Jarhead to the bed.”

And now back to the women.


Violet hurries over to November as the crowd disperses. “We’ve got a problem.”

“Another one?” the dancer asks.

“We’ve got one kid that sprouted a stalk and another one that almost did.” Violet's face hardens. “I had to put that one out of her misery. But anyway we need to do something,”

“Yes. I was heading to meet the council to see what they are going to do.”

“Well nobody can go in there until that area has been cleaned out.”

November looks at Violet. “There were guards on your door right?”

“Not when I got there. There are now.”

A minor retcon during the game. Initially Violet said there were none and got chewed out about it.

The pair head for the council chambers. A few minutes later they arrive outside the private box where a few high priests lurk, discussing recent events. A pair of guards in pure white robes decorated in silver chimes stop them at the door.

“What is your business?” says the one wielding a bronze staff.

“I wish to speak with the council about the crisis with the food,” November says gently. “I was the one who discovered it. My friend here has additional information.”

“You will have to remain outside. Only those within the order can enter the council chamber.”

November leans forward and touches his arm. She whispers, “I don’t think you understand....”

I really couldn’t hear the rest but let her roll Manipulate a person. She gets an 8. She marks experience.

As she bats her eyes at the flustered guard, the other man interjects. “Remember your duties.”

A figure steps in from behind the women. Wisher pulls back his long dark hair and says, “don’t concern yourself with that Pellet, everything is in order. Grip, you were saying?”

Grip adjusts his collar. “I suppose under the unusual circumstances we can make an exception. Pellet please tell the council that there is important news to be brought by one outside the order.” As Pellet disappears into the private booth, Grip continues, “my Lady Orleans, perhaps we can step over here so we can discuss things.”

The pair step into a corner and quietly discuss an arrangement. November gives him a kiss and promise of a private showing.

A moment later Pellet returns and shows November and Violet inside.

Violet opens her brain to the council room searching for the immediate danger. Since she knows her enemy, she rolls hard and gets an 8. She also marks experience.

I ask, "that first love of yours, that died of climbers, what was he like?

She describes him as a nice enough fellow and not a bad boy. He enjoyed exploring the woods and always had her back. They grew up together. He could be reckless though.

We give him the name Marshal.


As they enter the dimly lit room, Violet's eyes search out what threat lies ahead. As she focuses on the pale blue lights, her mind opens to the psychic maelstrom. The danger of the climbers seems to recede, replaced by a sense of self-devouring hunger.

The women approach two semi-circular tables, each ringed by four cloaked figures. As they reach a space between them, a female voice addresses them. "What news do you bring to us?"

November reads a person and gets a hard hit.

November turns to face each member as she speaks. "I helped disperse a crowd of people and stop the panic as the news of the infestation spread. I said I would ask you what you intend to do for them. My friend has seen something as well."

"What is it that you have seen?" An elderly man asks Violet.

Violet repeats her encounter with the two dying children.

The assembled elders whisper to each other. After a moment the old woman states, “this is dire news. With so many others here, it had already put a strain on our food supplies. This blow places us in a precarious situation.”

“What do you intend to do about it?” November asks.

In other words using one of her hold to learn their intentions.

“We need to secure more food,” the elder continues. “The nearest safest location to do so would be Taters. We need to draft an expedition to seize Taters.”

Taters is a small holding within Miami which unsurprisingly raises potatoes.

November asks what are they feeling right now? She remarks she “is good at interpreting body language through sheets.”


November seizes on the council members' shifting stance and the gentle adjustments of their robes. The food situation has them scared, she thinks. They don’t care who gets hurt fixing it.

”Just the kind of people I can’t stand,” Violet says.

She goes on to ask about the hunting around the Music Bowl. I explain there isn’t much left nearby as the local wildlife has been driven off or eaten. If she goes far enough she could hunt down swamp life. “Are you proposing to wrangling gators?”

”Possibly.”


Violet steps forward. “One thing that would take the strain off would be getting White out of the way.”

“Unfortunately he is too well defended on the Big Ship,” a stooped old man says. “Taters is easier for us to take and deprives him of a food source.”

“Those people need to eat too.”

“They have thrown their lot in with White,” he replies.

This isn’t true. Violet knows from Boo that they were simply afraid of White.

Violet grits her teeth. “There is a difference between throwing in with a bully and not standing up to him because you are afraid of being knocked down. Maybe if you offer them protection, they might be willing to trade you.”

“I’m sorry did we ask your opinion?” asks another priestess.

”Oh bang,” says Jarhead.

Violet’s eyes light up. “Look White already causing enough trouble as is. Do you really want to be starting more conflict right now?”

The council begins to talk over her, discussing their next step. “Wasn’t there a group of mercenaries-

That gets her upset. Violet rolls Towering presence and gets an 11. She also marks experience.

”I do not like being ignored!” Violet shouts. “Now look! I did not come all the way down here to watch you destroy what order is left in Miami. Work with Taters, offer them protection for food. Don’t steal their livelihood. Be better than White.”

As I look over my options for their response, we discuss what would happen if they attacked.

”They are old men?” Violet asks.

”And women,” I add.

”I can take them!”


The council stare at her and each other over a long moment of silence. The old woman coughs. “Alright we will do it your way. We will ‘liberate’ them and give them a deal.”

“Thank you.”

November asks how she could get them to reassure the refugees?

I point out that “if you make it clear that rioting refugees are a threat to stability that would motivate them.”


November addresses the council with a smile and submissive gaze. “We still need to reassure the refugees that things will improve. Perhaps if you give them a focus, such as helping liberate Taters, it will distract them from rioting. Provide them hope and a sense of purpose.”

After a few quick whispers, the old priestess replies more warmly, “we will send a messenger to relay that useful idea.”

“And make sure your water supply is secure as well,” November adds.

“Thank you November. Please let us finish our preparations in privacy.”

With that the women are led out.

Onto the next day.

As the sun rises over the Music Bowl, Violet looks over the water supply. A network of tarps cover a third of the remaining stands, funneling rain water and dew into a huge barrel. A dozen armed men and women watch from the heights above it for any attempts to access it. A few chat casually about an attempt to break into the foundry last night.

“I heard they smashed through a wall with a car,” one remarks.

Violet finds November and they head by Jarhead’s workshop.

They find the wreckage of a pickup lodged in the entryway. Squeezing past, they are greeted by Allison and Memo.

“Can I offer you some rat?” Allison asks as she slides a metal plate of meat to Gator.

”What happened here?” November asks. She glances at Jarhead, who is strapped down to a stretcher.

“They crashed a vehicle through the wall,” Allison explains. “They wanted our rats.”

Violet turns to Gator. “We had some nurses asking about your whereabouts. You alright?”

“We are fine,” Gator says.

“Jarhead got smashed into a wall!” the fair haired woman corrects him.

November looks at the wall beside the entrance where a distinct imprint remains.

Memo pokes Jarhead. “He was bleeding out of his ears. It is all crusty now.”

November opens her brain, focusing on Jarhead. She gets a 9 and marks experience.

I ask, “Does November want to go back to her family?”

She says, “I’m in that state where I assume that things at home will remain static and that someday I would go back and everything fine.”


November turns to Jarhead. The battered man twists in his slumber. Though moaning lowly in pain, she can see he will be fine in the long run. The sounds of the foundry fill her ears: crackling flames, spinning machines, and a hammering from Waters’ work area. These tools remind her of Jarhead. This injured man is simply a damaged tool, an implement to be put to use by someone else.

Jarhead comments that he probably is to most people actually.

A blood tinged tear leaks from an eye as he stirs.

“Hey he’s waking up,” Memo says poking him.

Jarhead’s skull pounds with pain. He struggles to get up. “Ow! Why am I tied down?”

“So you don’t fall out.”

“That a pretty good reason,” he remarks. “Now untie me.”

As Memo releases him, Allison brings a freshly roasted batch of food to the table. “Rat anybody? Nice and fresh!”

“I need to find more things than rat,” Jarhead grumbles, hobbling to the table.

“If we went closer to the swamp we could try to catch a crocodile,” Allison says.

“There’s an expedition to liberate Taters,” November suggests. “They kind of have some food.”

“So we can get potatoes?” the tinkerer asks.

“The council mentioned something about mercenaries. I think they hoped to use them.” November reads some confusion on Gator’s ruined face. “Gator are you not talking to them?”

“I just woke up yesterday,” he explains. “I’ve been asleep a couple of weeks. It’s been hard to contact me. I was hoping you would know where they are.”

Violet cocks her head. “I saw Morgana moving among the refugees recently arranging minor gigs. But I haven’t seen her or her men recently, not since they went up the north road. Wire told me they were going to be gone a few days. That was two days ago. They might even be back already.”

“OK, maybe I’ll take a look for them. But we need to take care of this White business.”

“Can you talk a little quieter please?” Jarhead says. “My head hurts.”

“Let’s let Jarhead rest,” Violet says.

Shadow bursts in. “What happened here!?”

“He’ll be fine,” Gator says.

“I need my head for thinking,” the injured man says sliding into a seat. “Thinking is important to me.”

The group moves outside the foundry and discusses their next step, while Jarhead rests. A few of Violet’s Republicans join them.

Garber asks, “Are we going to do something? There is still no word from the Autodoc. We need to break in there.”

Violet nods. “It has been too long. Let’s get ready and check it out. Does anybody want to come with us?”

We establish that the liberation of Taters will be today or tomorrow. It is a half days travel to the Autodoc.

November asks, “what can we do to get in?”

“Nobody’s tried breaking down the doors,” Garber suggests.

“Who has been trying to get in?” Gator asks.

“The nurses have been sending a team every few days.”

“And it is still closed?”

“Yes. I went with them last two times,” the youth says, a frown crossing his face.

“We found ways to break out,” Violet says. “Those places should be weakened.”

“Yes,” Garber says nodding. “I poked around the hole in the West Wing and that place is clear to the end of the hall where the security door is sealed up.”

“I need to get a new mask before I come along,” Gator says.
.
“Do what you have got to do and we will reconvene in a couple hours,” Violet says.

On to Gator.

The third refugee Gator asked actually knew something.

“I saw them they just came back a few hours ago,” the woman says, the braids from her half shaved head covering one eye. “They were dragging something on a sled.”

A quarter hour later, he finds the gang sitting in a section of the stands drinking.

“I thought you were dead,” Morgana says tipping back a brown bottle.

“I takes more than that to kill me,” Gator says getting into the middle of the pack. “I heard you were busy.”

“We’ve been doing a few jobs here and there,” she says. “A bit of guarding and delivery. It’s been pretty profitable. Right guys?”

As the cheer dies down, Gator asks, “I heard you dragged something back?”

“One of the uppity ups wanted us to retrieve something from the Autodoc,” she says adjusting her shoulder pad.

“So you’ve been to the Autodoc?”

“By it, not deep inside it,” she says with a quiet laugh.

“We were thinking stopping by there. It’s taking too long to open up.”

“It is a shame,” she says with a nod. “That was a pretty good a place to get patched up. It doesn’t seem that the nurses can do quite as good a job without the hospital.”

“I‘m going to see what I can drum up with the head nurse for reopening it,” he tells her. “Oh and be careful with the food here, someone got spores into the stores.”

Wire spits out his drink.

“I don’t think the drinks have problems yet.”

"That’s good to know," the old mercenary says, wiping his mouth.

"It will be getting a bit hungry around here," Morgana comments.

“Yes, we are looking to go to Taters in a couple days see what we can do there," Gator says. "Just make sure you don’t make the same deals I do. I'll need the leverage. Oh and I got some more weapons, that people left lying around.”

"We’ll look at them," she says. "But if they are from people around here they are probably not better than what we got."

“Probably not but you never know.”

"Maybe they got bullets."

Elsewhere November chats with of the nurses. "What are the computer's defenses?" she asks Iris.

“Well, it depends," the thin woman says. "if it can get a hold of you. The surgery machines are supposed to remain in the surgery rooms. But some of them can move on their own.”

"Is there some way to shut them down?"

"You could kill the main power I guess," she says chewing some old mushrooms slowly.

“So there is not a password?” the dancer says.

"Barnum might have known if there was but maybe no one did. No one alive that is."

Jarhead asks for the best way for him to get better. I suggest resting for a month or letting the doctors put him under a week. He decides to head to Autodoc as part of taking the move Life Support. Then he can fix himself.

Wisher arrives at the foundry later in the morning. He focuses all of his attention on the gleaming motorcycle Jarhead built for November, ignoring the mechanic’s pain.

“I plan to give it to her when we start the festival in a couple days,” he says placing the drab sheet back over it.

“Wonderful. I can stay here right?” Jarhead asks, looking over the final payment.

“In the foundry?”

“Yeah, you don’t use it anyway.”

Wisher creases his brow. “We do use it.”

“Yeah but you dabble,” the tinkerer says.

“How about this?” Wisher says. “If you can fix the hole in the wall you can stay.“

“Done and done.”

As Wisher wheels his prize out, Jarhead turns to Memo. “I don’t know how Gator got in here. Find the where the breach is.”

End of Session

Then we determine Hx improvements. Unfortunately it was a very split game so the options are equite straightforward. I need to work on that. One issue is that Jarhead stays in one place while Violet wanders around a lot.
  • Violet gives +1 Hx to November.
  • November gives +1 Hx to Violet.
  • Gator gives +1 Hx to Jarhead.
  • Jarhead gives +1 Hx to Gator.
November remarks she is only two experience from changing playbooks, while Gator notes he is at +2 Hx with everyone.

Wednesday, May 27, 2015

Adapting Adventures: Adapting Plots

One of my secret pleasures as a game master is adapting adventure material to my own purposes. Last time we looked at the mechanical side of things: adapting monsters, dungeons, and NPCs. All of which is a lot of work. This week we'll look at some cases of stitching together plots into an ongoing game. It's a fun puzzle, working out how this plot fits into a grander vision or how that story hook meshes with another. While it is almost as much work as converting mechanics, it is an activity that I enjoy more and so the time spent passes quickly for me.

Adapting Plots

(S)Entries (Night's Black Agents)

NBA-Cover
By its very nature, this introductory adventure for Night's Black Agents invites customization, at least in the later scenes. There one needs to adjust things in order to fit whatever conspiracy you as the GM have chosen. Of course, I went a couple of steps further.

Spoilers Ahead!!

One thing I like to do it start the action as soon as possible. Begin with a fight then deal with the investigation. So rather than follow the original spine of the story (get hired for a heist, do the job and then run into trouble), I went and added action up front by jumping in 'in media res' with a car chase through the Balkan wilderness. The job was done and they were on their way to meet, if only they can escape their pursuers. Why a chase? Because I've never really used a car chase before in my games and I wanted to be sure it happened for once.

This left me with the question of who was chasing them and why. The who was easy. I wanted bikers and the Night Wolves fit the bill of being based in Eastern Europe and somewhat villainous sounding. Why was harder. I didn't want the PCs to be sold out early by their handler or employer so they needed to miss an unexpected detail, a tracking device in the laptop they stole.

That led directly to the question of who put the tracker there. Obviously the conspiracy, which implies the owner, Lennart was not the innocent depicted in the original story but an agent of the conspiracy, probably an information gatherer positioned in the UN to access their databases. This fed well into my idea that the paymaster was betraying her organization, stealing intel from one branch of the conspiracy to enable her rise along another branch.

It also made sure that the PCs would be hunted no matter who they cut a deal with. Either the original betrayer in the story gets the laptop or their paymaster or the guys they stole it from. Someone loses out and they probably blame the PCs.

Stringing Ideas Together

Corrupted Transmission

Asylum cover
The main plot arc of my Hunter: the Vigil Chronicle essentially was assembled from a collection of disparate story seeds. A lot of bits came from World of Darkness: Asylum, whose titular building featured heavily in the game. I grabbed bits like the paralyzed master psychic Ambrose Grant and "Bateman's Children", derro-like beings composed of extracted madness and evil.

To this I added the Dream Computer from Night Horrors: the Unbidden. I tied this tale of interconnected dreams inhabited by the nightmare of a serial killer the other parts by replacing the creator (a Mage) with Ambrose and another stranger creature.

Specifically the Mnemovores (from a different Night Horrors book: Wicked Dead), who I had wanted use for a while. These memory devouring undead are normally isolated and forgetful. The one working with Ambrose (whose powers shielded him from the creature's powers) was able to access a source of power: a primal memory. Which incidentally allowed it to remain sapient without constant feedings.

The primal memory was an aspect of the God-Machine, specifically a key to accessing Infrastructure for creating Tulpas (thought projections, for which I used the representation from Over the Edge). These beings were used by Ambrose and the Memnovores to impersonate mortals and provide quick supernatural muscle. They also mirrored Bateman's children who might be seen as a primitive version of them, created crudely through the strange mechanisms located beneath the asylum.

Thus tying everything together (not including other ideas like Ambrose's psychic enhancement via a black book CIA program involving the Wintergreen process or the possible connection between Demon: the Descent Covers and the Tulpas).

Putting all of this together was a matter of collecting all the ideas I found inspiring and shifting them around until they began to click together like a giant puzzle. Some pieces were discarded like the Groetnich, a strange alien fish while others were spun off the main plot like my brain spider story.

Lessons Learned

I think the fundamental lesson is to start with cool ideas and then follow the logic to glue them together. Ask why an antagonist is present here, what he/she/it wants and what their goals are. Are there connections you can draw between other foes? Are they friends? Enemies? Something more complicated?

For scenes (especially action scenes) that you want top include, I recommend embracing them. If you want a chase across roof tops, figure out who is chasing them and how they ended up there. Sometimes you'll need to start in media res to short-circuit the typical PC tendency to avoid unnecessary danger (but make sure that there is some logical reason for them to be there and use it sparingly, player hate being railroaded). Other times you will find a compelling reason for them to get involved. Perhaps their contact will only meet atop a certain shop. when they are gunned down and the figure takes off on foot, they may have little choice but to pursue.

Enough rambling for now.

Monday, May 25, 2015

Sample Sanctum: The Unfettered Quill

Some modern-day wizards seek to do more than study dusty tomes and master the art. They want to change the world. The willworkers at the Unfettered Quill hope ignite the minds of local artists and writers in the hopes of finding hints of the true nature of the world in their work. When mundane methods fail, they turn their magic to accessing the minds of these creators directly.

The Unfettered Quill

This unassuming brownstone advertises with a simple brass plate on the door and frosting upon the large front window in the shape of a feather. Inside piles of manuscripts nestle around abstract artworks. An open plan office contains the staff (and cabal) who publish the Unfettered Quill, a local magazine detailing the arts within this portion of the city. From reviews of stage productions to the publication of yearly anthologies in several genres, they foster the creative pursuits and encourage aspiring artists.

The first floor is given over the offices and a small chamber that resembles a coffeeshop more than a meeting room. The second floor nominally houses Washbash Improvements, a rental company owns many of the buildings in the area. The rentals are handled elsewhere and the offices are merely a front for the cabal's gentrification activities. The top floor contains a few bedrooms for those who work long hours here. A locked door leads to the basement and the Dreamgate.

Uncommonly for a sanctum, the Unfettered Quill lacks a Hallow. Instead many of the members belong to Legacies or subsist off scouring and trade. A simple ward protects the establishment from prying eyes and teleporters while the walls in Twilight are fortified by the resident Moros. One member has woven a cunning spell that dissuades those with angry hearts from entering the building (they must succeed at a Resolve + Composure roll to beat the Potency 3 spell).

The Dreamcatchers

dreamcatcher_by_odd_kid-d4w0u2g
The cabal which runs the Unfettered Quill formed only a few years ago. The idealistic (if greedy) Free Council founders joined with some like-minded members of the Mysterium with the goal of creating an artist's mecca within the city. They hope to glean Supernal lore from the minds of writers and artists.

The Dreamcatchers formed to take advantage of an artifact the original members discovered in their early studies. Stolen from below the city, they have used to it to secretly access the Astral. There they alter the mental landscape to encourage the arts and drive off those elements they feel detract from the neighborhood.

Their sigil is unsurprisingly a dreamcatcher.

Artifact (7 dots): The Dreamgate

This empty doorway curves in ways that can't easily be described, seemingly tilted or warped even though all measuring devices assure it obeys perfect Euclidean angles. Its surface seems more metal than wood, covered in alien forms of the Atlantean runes.

Size: 6; Durability: 4; Structure: 10.

Powers: The Dreamgate allows those who meditate in its presence to access the Astral as if they were at a 5 dot Hallow. If the user(s) concentrates on a specific target they can travel to that soul's Oneiros directly. Meditation rolls in that case suffer a penalty equal to the sympathetic penalties and any Wards must also be overcome.

“Deborah” Dickinson

Disciple of the Arcana of Fate and Time, Voter in the Free Council, founding member of the Dreamcatchers

Concept: Wanna be writer

Background: Dickinson was the fat girl in high school and even though she lost of most of those pounds she still carries that idea with her. In college, she put her effort into her writing, dimly hoping someone would notice her. Sadly she lacked the talent to stand out in the crowd of aspiring artists. Instead in her artistic studies she uncovered a hidden pattern linking writers and artists throughout history. A common current threading through their works, lives and dreams.

After her Awakening she focused on learning about those areas other mages find mysterious. For now that means dreams and the hints of the Supernal within them. She cultivates young minds for the hints of the 'something greater' that touches them. In her daily life she helps run (as editor) the Unfettered Quill.

Description: A stocky woman with long dark hair and wire rimmed glasses, Dickinson quickly takes charge of any situation, loudly voicing her opinion.

Storyteller Notes: You want attention and to be recognized for your work. While you would never steal someone else's work, you secretly hope to find something in the dreams of other that you can pass off as your own.

Quote: “We are churching up this street.”

Path: Acanthus  Order: Free Council

Virtue: Hope      Vice: Envy

Arcana: Fate 3, Mind 2, Time 3

Gnosis: 3

Legacy: Dickinson is currently attempting to join the Pygmalions but has yet to find a teacher who will accept her.

Monday, May 18, 2015

Sample Sanctum: Residents of the Engels House

Now to look at the residents (prior and current) of the Engels House. Hopefully they approve of their new housemates.

Residents of the Engels House

gravestone

Moving In

Many clues remain as to the history of the sanctum from the graves out back to the lingering enchantments. A fallen chandelier in the dining room is etched with the phrase 'Rota Taro Orat Tora Ator' (The wheel of Taro speaks the Law of Love). Other etchings, Atlantean runes, hide behind the few pieces of furniture or inside the walls themselves. Careful study reveals they once helped bind the warding spells of the house. Now only a few threadbare enchantments remain.

Another magical sign can barely be made out in one of the second floor bedroom. The summoning circle lies almost worn to nothing. A careful rubbing (or use of magic) reveals it to be focused on summoning angels.

More clearly visible is a large blood stain near the fallen chandelier. Old and black, it marks the spot where the former owner perished. A potent resonance of Death, Mind, and Spirit magic lingers here.

Thick vine encrust the gravestones, oozing a strange gel at midnight. This ectoplasm evaporates if removed from the graves unless stabilized with Death magic.

Lastly those who dwell within the house are haunted by dreams of an endless stairway.

Lingering Enchantments

There are 3 existing enchantments in and on the house:
  • Ward (potency 1, cast by an Adept of the Arcana of Space): threadbare and decayed, this covers the house protecting it and those within from scrying and sympathetic attacks.
  • The Dream Quest (potency 5, cast by an adept of Fate and Mind) this strange spell draws those who possess the potential to follow the former owner's Legacy to the house and then brings them dreams.
  • Stygian Demense (potency 5, cast by a Master of Death with Gnosis 8): this lies in the basement but is currently inoperative. Fixing it requires repairing the runes down there (damaged by ground water). The soulstone is hidden by other magics. It is invisible (potency 2) and covered by a Mind spell (potency 4) that distracts people from seeing it.

The Others

The "ghosts"of the house are wise to the way of mages and keep their distance. However they leave many clues to their presence:
  • Dripping water from a leaky roof forms a pool in one room. The owners discover wet foot prints leading away from it.
  • Low voices are heard upstairs but the speakers flee before the owners reach them.
  • Whispering and a soft crying emanates from the graveyard.
  • Doors slam in random parts of the house.
  • Heavy foot falls are heard elsewhere in the house.
  • The cutlery is rearranged into Atlantean symbols overnight.
  • Ticking sounds emerge from the cellar.

Spirits of the House

EngelsHouse
The secret of the residents of the Engels House is that they are neither ghosts nor spirits but a strange hybrid (called Geists) created by the former owner, a heretical mage known as Rota. Of his many experiments only a handful linger here:

The House (Ezra)

This creature actually began as the spirit of the house. Decades of experimentation left it bound to dozens of weak ghosts. The old woman Ezra has come to dominate it, causing it to manifest into two ways. In one, it resembles a decaying house with windows that shine like eyes and a square toothless mouth. The other resembles a bent old woman with a flat plaster face. Its voice, rarely used, quavers and creaks. It mostly slumbers.

Attributes: Power: 6, Finesse: 2, Resistance: 4
Traits: Size 20
Numina: Phantasmal Boneyard 4 (8)

The Bogeyman (Adam)

The youngest and darkest of the Geists, the Bogeyman appears as a looming figure cloaked in darkness. The light that penetrates the shadows reveals an eggshell white head, cracked open at the top and hollow. The creature smiles with a toothless idiot grin. Though capable of violence, it hides in the face of multiple intruders. It can often be seen looking around corners or through doorways at any women or girls who come to live here.

Attributes: Power: 6, Finesse: 2, Resistance: 6
Notable Traits: Size: 7
Numina: Terrify 8

The Whisperer (Doris)

The most social of the Geists, this spirit was once Rota's sister. Now twisted and mad, she babbles in a cacophony of voices. Two mouths open where her eyes would be along with a further pair upon her palms. She whispers of secrets and times long past, carrying several threads of discourse concurrently. Sometimes the voices even whisper to each other. Beyond her inhuman features, she resembles a younger woman with long silvery hair dressed in the flamboyant style of a flapper.

Attributes: Power: 4, Finesse: 4, Resistance: 4
Numina: Ghost Speech 8

The Watchman (Mobius)

Obsessed with time, this ghost stands bound in chains from which hang hundreds of pocket watches. Heralded by an endless ticking, this ghost mage possess influences over Time and Fate. Though he never seeks to harm others, he reflexively tampers with the Fate of those around him, bending them toward's Rota's plan. He lurks most of the time within the cellar.

Attributes: Power: 4, Finesse: 6, Resistance: 3
Influence: Fate 4, Prime 2, Space 2, Time 4
Numina: Telekinesis 10

Friday, May 15, 2015

The Climbers Recap: Playing at the Music Bowl

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Welcome back faithful readers. While for you it might only be two weeks, I've had a several month long break from writing these recaps and a two month break between sessions. The new year has not been the best for writing or running games thanks to sick babies and complicated schedules.

As for the Climbers, you have reached the 10th session, the first game for 2015 and the ending of a month-long pause between sessions. Refreshingly everyone showed up on time, something that became a bit more regular this year even if we met less often.

We started with a time jump as people worked on their projects following the escape from the Autodoc. Gator is resting, hoping his face is at least half intact. His player also felt sick, much like the character. Violet and her followers are regrouping while Jarhead begins to rebuild. Only November is unfazed by the recent turn of events.

As in my earlier actual play reports, small green text indicates out of character talk, mechanics and other game aspects outside of the fiction.

Our main characters are:
  • Gator (the Gunlugger) is an assassin and part-time bodyguard who wears customized scrounged armor made from Kevlar and ceramic inserts. Camouflaged for the jungle, his face was ruined in a fight with an alligator. His eyes are always sizing things up and his brutal life has left his body a hard sheet of muscle. He recently obtained a gang of mercenaries. Then he got blown up.
  • Jarhead (the Savvyhead) is a thin African-American man with a short goatee, long dreads, and clothes covered in pockets and gear. Travelling around in an old news van, he repairs items for a living. He is investigating a device that can bend space and time. He has also obtained employees in the form of a young woman Allison and her brother Waters as well as a little girl named Memo.
  • November Orleans (the Skinner) is descended from a family which left New Orleans before it sank. She is a beautiful woman of mixed heritage with dark eyes and skin, a sweet face and lush body. She dresses herself in a mix of scavenged clothing that somehow works together and wears a necklace made from rows of antique coins which jingle and shine as she moves. Her main profession is as a dancer, especially belly dancing, but she has a sideline business in cooking and animal training.
  • Violet Jefferson (the Touchstone) is descended by survivalists and her clothing and gear reflects her origins. Plain looking but fit, she carries a pocket copy of the Federalist papers and founding documents of the United States of America, an idea she hopes to revive. Her followers are demanding her help putting on a mission to liberate Miami from a tyrant.

Start of Session

As usual we begin by highlighting stats:
  • Violet gets Sharp (by Gator) and Hard highlighted.
”Be Sharp,” Gator tells her.

”And tonight’s opening song is in B#,” November quips.

  • Jarhead gets Weird (by November) and (because I’m a bit of jerk) Cool highlighted.
  • November gets Hot (by Gator) and Weird highlighted.
  • Gator gets Sharp (by Violet) and Weird (since I’m compensating him for a roll he must make).

Next I comment on my findings after reviewing the log. It seems Violet has incorrectly marked experience and failed to mark 4 times. This is enough for her to get a new move. After some thought she picks Clear eyed.

Then we jump to Music Bowl two weeks later and some love letters to cover what happened in between.

Jarhead

You’ve got a lot on your plate. Luckily you are not hurt and only missing bits of your workshop. And you have food.

Allison finishes the taser in the first week. Here are its stats:
  • [s-harm hand refill hitech]
Wisher, who still wants that motorcycle, sets you up in the workshop of the Music Bowl. They have machining tools and even a small foundry.

With the manpower available to you, you can get two other tasks done in the two weeks of downtime. You can press ahead and try for more but roll +cool. On a 10+ they all get done. On a 7-9 something doesn’t, you pick. On a miss, nothing is complete yet and expect some fallout.

Projects:
  • Night vision goggles [hitech, negates darkness difficulties]
  • Fancy motorcycle (if not completed Wisher will be upset)
  • Recast Tesla sphere (if you try and fail to complete it, your augury will be unavailable until you finish it)
  • Make new machining tools
  • Searching for the Messenger (if not worked on expect Shadow to be upset)

After some clarification, Jarhead decides to try to do everything, Despite his -1 stat, he gets 7. He marks experience and decides that the Tesla sphere is incomplete. It remains partially melted down, halfway through the process of reforging.

Violet

Well your followers’ plan for Joshua and Scarlet didn’t work out. Mark an experience.

This is due to her using Insight last session. Finally.

Wire returned with word from the Big Ship. Roll +sharp to see how the mission went. On a hit he made contact with Kim. On a 10+ pick 2 questions. On a 7-9 pick 1 question. On a miss Wire comes back with news and it’s not good.
  • Where could someone hide on the Big Ship?
  • What is the best way onto the Big Ship?
  • Who is loyal to White?
  • What should I be on the lookout for?
Then we have your injuries. Recover 1-harm. If you pay the nurses from the Autodoc to patch you up, spend 1-barter and erase all harm. But you spend most of the two weeks knocked out. Otherwise you can spend some time drumming up support. Roll +hard. On a 10+ hold 3. On a 7-9 hold 1. On a miss no one listens. Spend a hold to name an NPC who:
  • Believes in democracy but is not a fighter (but might have support skills).
  • Is willing and able to fight White’s tyranny (in other words a skilled combatant).
  • Joins your followers.
  • Is inspired by you personally.
Finally you need to pay for food and shelter over the last month. Spend 1-barter.


Violet starts with the sharp roll and gets a 9 (with Wire’s return Gator’s gang now includes 11 members). She marks experience and asks “Who is loyal to White?”

She learns that he has three loyal lieutenants: Rue Wakeman (who they killed last session), Cougar (a monstrous figure in a mask who has been with him a long time) and Winona (a woman with yellow eyes who has a reputation as a techno mystic with special access to the Psychic Maelstrom). Winona keeps a lair in the bowels of the Big Ship. Both of the surviving minions are smart and potentially ambitious. Cougar might lead White’s gang in a reprisal should his/her boss die. Winona would take a different tack though.

Violet decides not to rest very long. She sticks to 1-harm recovered and rolls hard. She gets a 7 and marks experience.

As she considers her options, I point out she could choose “is inspired by you personally." "They don’t argue."

”I think I would find that disturbing,” she says.


She settles on “Is willing and able to fight White’s tyranny.”

”Assuming things work out as planned, Boo will be out soon,” she says.

”That’s a big assumption,” I tell her.


Then she makes her makes Fortunes roll and gets an 8. She chooses +judgmental and gains 2-barter and +insight.

”Everyone just a little bit pissed at how things went down at the Autodoc,” I tell her.

She also earns a new advance and chooses +1 sharp.

Gator


That hurt…a lot. Thankfully the nurses still owe you one and are not about to argue with a badass with a gang.

Roll +weird. On a hit you recover essentially intact, erase all harm but you are out for two weeks. On 7-9 pick 1.
  • The other half of your face is ruined (maybe you should get a mask).
  • A side deal by Morgana has left your gang entangled in local politics.
  • Your skin is really itchy. Lose your -1forward against the climbers.
On a miss, you still have 2-harm and one of the above.

Either way you have strange dreams. Answer the following questions:
  • How old were you when you first killed a person?
  • What was your daughter like?
  • Who was her mother?
Finally you need to pay for food and shelter over the last month. Spend 1-barter.

Gator rolls weird and fails. At least he marks experience. He decides that Morgana made a deal behind his back. Not that he knows that yet.

”That sounds like more fun,” he says.

As for his answers, he says he was 23 when he first killed a man.

”He only shot to maim before then,” November jokes.

”I had in my mind the preacher from Trigun,” I explain.

Gator explains he has a different story in mind.


As to his daughter, she was a curious child, friendly to animals. She enjoyed her father’s eye. Gator’s wife was the light of his life. She was a girl from the west, different and exotic.

His dreams flash back to those peaceful pleasant days. For now.

Gator advances as well. He bumps his weird up by 1.

November

The last couple weeks have been a whirlwind of planning, preparation, and practicing. The little time you’ve had to relax has been put to resting, erase 1-harm.

People have been gathering at the Music Bowl for the festival and to escape White. The holding’s population has doubled. Amid the crowds and excitement you’ve noticed a few strange things.

Roll +sharp. On a 10+ hold 3. On a 7-9 hold 1. Spend hold to ask the following:
  • What should I be on the lookout for?
  • What does this place or these people have to offer me?
  • How could I gain access to this place’s or these people’s secrets?
  • How could I gain the undivided attention of all present?
  • How could I best become accepted as a part of this place or these people?
  • What or who is the source of the most pain here?
On a miss, at the end of a long hard day you spot a green eyed girl leaving the subbasement of the Music Bowl. What do you do?

Finally you need to pay for food and shelter over the last month. Spend 1-barter.


November rolls sharp and get a 5.

Playing at the Music Bowl

November makes her way back to her dressing room after a long day of rehearsals. In the fading light she notices a young girl slipping out the door into the Music Bowl's subbasements.

That's odd, she thinks before noticing the wain child's mottled green eyes. The spots!

“Hey”, November calls out to the child, slipping off a damp scarf from one arm. The girl's attention fixed, the dancer approaches the urchin. She gracefully slips off the girl's faded and stretched T-shirt and binds her with it.

November uses Arresting Skinner to hold the child in place.

"What were you doing in there?" she asks, smiling charmingly.

Then she uses Hypnotic, rolls hot and gets a hard success. She also marks experience.

Then we jump to others.


The crowd bustles outside, swollen to twice its normal size. While the fading tones of the sacred organ echo from inside, the smell of savory mushrooms waft up from the tent city camped outside the wrecked stadium.

A few people amuse themselves with a visiting carnival but most of the refugees keep a wary eye to the east, where their old homes and White’s forces lurk. A cluster of nurses talk about returning to the Autodoc.

"Who doesn't love a carnival," Jarhead comments.

"It should have opened days ago," Krin comments to a colleague. "Even if they were all infected, the hospital could have processed them all by now."

While the nurses nod in agreement, Jarhead quickly passes by with his latest catch of rats. He hurries back to the foundry and away from the hordes of people.

Inside he finds his employees hard at work. Allison and Memo polish up the motorcycle for Wisher while Waters makes final adjustments on the night vision goggles. He smiles at the progress. Even his lost tools have been replaced.

We also establish that November had her ipad recharged too.

He glances around but Shadow is nowhere to be found. Must be searching for the Messenger among the refugees, he decides, recalling the scan he did when they arrived. He frowns as he considers the melted brick that was the damaged half of the Tesla sphere. I need to fix that.

It can wait until tomorrow, he decides. Wisher should be by with the last of his payment and I can work on other projects then.

Cut to Violet.

As night falls, Violet discusses her next steps with an ex-mercenary called David and her allies.

Everyone agrees that’s a weird name.

Violet explains David is tired of having it so rough. He wants to create a better future and settle down. He grew up here.


"We need to deal with White," the well armed man says. "Look at what he’s done to Miami thus far. At this point the only people able to stand against him are here.”

This next line was Jarhead's but it sounds good here.

"So everyone willing to stand against him are in one spot," AOL comments.

"Yeah, that sounds like a bad idea now that I say that." He glances east. "We should expect an attack."

"We should," Violet says. The plain woman starts adjusting some of the bandages over her burns.

"Where are those mercenaries?" David asks. "We need to be harder to hit, we need to be more spread out."

Violet looks up from her work. "Where are those mercenaries?" she asks sharply.

I inform her she hasn’t seen them in a few days. Gator is still unconscious in the nurses' camp by the old concession stands. He was pretty banged up but should be waking up soon.

Cut back to November.

"You have a hypnotized, stripped and tied up a little girl," I tell her.

"I feel proud about it," she responds.


November leans over the dirt covered child. "What were you doing in the food larder?" she asks kindly.

"I had to spread those," the girl says, motioning to a pouch.

November pulls it open, her cold eyes never leaving the child. She loosens the drawstring, revealing dozens of granular spores. Smiling to the child, she lets the pouch slide closed and steps away. "How much did you cover?"

The fair haired child scrunches her eyes. "Uh, lots."

November adjusts the bindings to cover the child. Then she glances about, spotting an official of the Music Bowl. She calls out to the white robed figure.

"What's going on?" he asks walking closer.

"I saw this girl come out of the subbasement," November says. "She says she was instructed to spread spores."

The priest steps away. “Oh dear! I must tell the inner council.”

November catches his hand. "What’s to stop someone from taking the infested food?"

With dawning horror, he shouts to a gathering of his comrades. “Guard the doors, someone has been spreading spores in the food supply!”

And word swiftly spreads.

We jump to Gator who just arrived (only slightly late).


A steady beeping intrudes on Gator's sleep. The tempo jumps as sensations of pain and muggy heat leak into his awareness. His eyes flicker open.

To his left, wires connect electrodes to a monitoring device. Fuzzily he tries to focus on what happened. He recalls pleasant days. Days before the killing, when his wife and child were alive.

"What happened?" I ask.

Gator says something violent. They were either taken or killed.


He drifts back under. His bandaged brow furrows as with the memory of distant gunshots. He dreams of things moving in darkness. The distant beeping speeds up. His wife screams. A shot rings out. His daughter, she-

Gator's eyes snap open. Sore muscles spring into action, lifting the muscular man into sitting position. He blinks. A plastic tarp covers the ceiling, lit by a single hanging lightbulb. As the machine continues to beep, he spots shadowy figures outside of the tent.

‘"What?!” one exclaims.

"They put spores in the food," another repeats.

“What are we going to do?” the first whines.

Gator shifts his legs off the bed. His skin screams under the thick bandages. Sliding to the ground, his bare feet find concrete. A mirror mounted on a cabinet reflects a mess of bandages across his face and down under his thin hospital gown.

The mercenary takes stock of his situation. Weathered concrete makes up the back wall, pockmarked with old bullet holes. A couple crates and a small table with medical supplies complete the furnishings. Gator snatches a scalpel off the table and silently pads to the crates.

”Now we are getting somewhere,” he says rearming himself.

Inside he finds scraps of his clothing, blood stained and charred. Beneath that he uncovers his heavy Kevlar armor. Glancing to the entrance, he investigates to the left hand side of the room. Lifting the plastic tarp, he finds another unoccupied hospital bed. He grabs his gear and slips out.

A long beep rings out as the electrodes pull off. Once in the other ‘room’, Gator grabs some other gowns from another grungy cabinet and dresses, placing his armor over several layers of hospital gowns. As the sound of people grows closer, he slips through the opposite side of the tent.

He finds a supply room. Freestanding shelves hold meager supplies of drugs, clothing and medical gear. Gator pulls some scrubs over his armor and covers his face with a mask. Then he slips out into the night.

He rolls Acting under fire and gets a 9.

A concrete ceiling looms overhead extending out to what were once floor to ceiling windows. Inside what was his tent several people talk excitedly. Elsewhere it seems everyone has gone to sleep. As he turns to leave he spots a gun barrel sticking out of a crate near his tent. It could be his sniper rifle.

Offering a hard choice.

He cautiously approaches. He hears people talking inside. “Where did he go? He should be here?”

Gator pulls out the soot covered sniper rifle. He dimly sees his MP5 deeper within as well as plenty of knives. With a quick heft, he picks up the entire boxes and stalks back to the supply room.

I have him roll Acting under fire again. He rolls a 7.

He lurches inside before the others can see him. As he sets down the heavy box, he hears a metallic crunch.

“Oh great,” he mutters. He digs out his weapons one by one checking for damage. After stowing his knives, he puts the guns and the rocket launcher in a net bag from one of the shelves, wrapping them in old scrubs.

Then he quietly walks out into the night.

Then we jump to Jarhead.

Jarhead makes some adjustments to the motorcycle’s engine. He starts as Allison taps him on the shoulder.

“Did you hear?” the young woman asks.

“Hear what?”

“The food supply at the Music Bowl!” she blurts out. “They said it’s all infected with spores. I’m glad we didn’t eat any of those mushrooms.”

“Mushrooms?” he says absently turning back to his work.

“Yeah that’s what they eat around here. It sounded a little better than eating rat but at least with rat you know what you are getting.” She moves to the other side of the bike to face him. “You think it was White?”

”Rat, it’s healthy and nutritious!”

“It is always White,” he says tiredly, “he’s the bogey man.”

“What does White even look like? All I know is his name.”

Jarhead scratches his head. “A guy as far as I know. That’s a good question. We probably should find that out.”

“I guess when Gator wakes up he’s going to have to find out. Isn’t he supposed to kill White or something? No one tells me stuff.”

“It is a need to know basis,” the scrawny man explains. “I don’t need to know and thus you don’t either. More importantly are the night vision goggles finished?”

She smiles and holds them out to him. “Yes, I was just putting the finishing touches on them.”

“Excellent.”

“We got everything done except the recasting,” she informs him.

“That takes more finesse than you’ve got,” he says.

“Need anything more from us tonight? Otherwise I’ll get Waters to bed.”

“Help me lock up the foundry, just in case someone comes looking for rat.”

We return to Violet and David.

As Violet and David stroll around the dimly lit arena, they notice a refugee running to a cluster of people around a campfire.

“Spores! Spores in the food!” he tells them hurriedly. “The priest said there were-”

A scarred woman joins them. “Someone was spreading spores in the mushroom farms!”

“What are we going to eat?” a high pitched voice asks. “We are all going to get the climbers!”

Then she runs off to tell others.

Violet looks to David. “I think we should investigate.”

They approach the growing crowd. “What is going on?” David barks.

“Well I heard it from Yen,” someone stammers. “He said they caught a climber girl trying to spread spores through the subbasement.”

Violet grabs David. “Let’s check it out.”

As they hurry to the nearest door, a man in a bloodstained smock stops them.

“Have you seen Gator?” Krin asks.

“No,” Violet tells him.

“He’s missing,” the technician explains. “His weapons and gear are also missing.”

“If I see him I’ll let you know.”

“Alright, I’ll keep searching.”

Back to November.

As two white robed guards secure the doorway to the subbasement, November continues her questioning of the infected girl. “Where are the other bags?” she asks anticipating more bad news.

“They are with Joey and Trout,” the child answers.

“That’s who,” the dancer corrects her. “Where are they?”

“They were going to go to the other entrances.”

November glances about. There are five entrances to the tunnels beneath the stadium. Five that are known. “I want you to wait here and answer any questions the priests ask of you.”

The girl dumbly nods.

And uses up a hold from Hypnotic.

November moves swiftly to the other doors. She finds a gateway sealed with a barricade of wood and wire and flanked by guards at the east entrance. As she approaches the next pathway, she collides with Violet.

“Ouch! Violet watch where you are going!”

“Very funny,” Violet says regaining her balance. “What’s going on? I heard there was trouble.”

“Well yeah if contamination of the food supply is trouble,” she says quickly. “I heard there are two other intruders working on contaminating the rest. I’m checking that all of the entrances are guarded so we can catch them.” Spying a thicket of robed figures ahead by the ladder down into the tunnels, she continues, “I still need to check the north staircase and the west elevator shaft.”

“I’ll check that the staircase,” Violet offers.

November nods and they split up.

November notes I momentarily had two characters in the same place. For first time for the evening. I need to get better at that.

Back to Gator.


Gator circles the huge round structure. The only stadium he recalls nearby is the Music Bowl. He can’t recall visiting before but it seems very full. Large crowds of people camp outside the ruins. They cast fearful glances east while chattering about the recent advances by White. As he wanders a new topic comes to dominate their nervous talk.

“We came all this way just we could have something to eat and not be zombies,” Gator overhears from a mangy knot of young men. “And now it’s freakin infested with spores!”

“Nah, nah,” a spiky haired man says. “I heard there’s another food supply. There’s this guy who has been collecting rats. He’s set himself up in that little workshop area.”

“We should go and take his rats,” the first man replies. “Then we don’t need to worry about the mushrooms. Plus meat would be tastier. Real meat that isn’t radioactive.”

“That makes a lot of sense,” a third mutters.

“Let’s go get that rat meat,” a pair of others cheer.

Sounds like a good idea, Gator thinks to himself. His stomach grumbles and sloshes. He trails behind them as they enter the Music Bowl.

”Like you’ve been eating through tube for the last two weeks.”

They head into the tunnels beneath the stands. Dirty cinder block walls make up the walls, lit by dying fluorescent lights. The air grows hotter and the sounds of machinery at work overwhelms the babble from outside. The gang comes to a stop in front of a pair of metal doors.

The spiky haired leader pulls at the handles. They open a quarter inch before the chains inside hold them fast.

“Bastards locked themselves in,” the red haired complainer shouts. “I bet they were behind it. They knew this was going to happen.”

The pair bang on the door. Jarhead’s muffled voice calls out, “no business except party business.”

“Let us in,” the leader shouts.

“Uh, no.”

Recognizing the voice, Gator casts his eyes for another way in. He spots a side passage that should bring him close to the area behind the door. Quickly he slips away.

Gator reads a sitch and gets an 8. He marks experience and asks what is the best way through.

Jarhead offers, “It’s a foundry.”

“That’s a really terrible way to get in,” I point out. I then tell him that while the door is solid steel, the walls are not as tough.


“Let’s just break it down,” one of the ruffians suggests.

“If you do not get away from the door, it will go badly for you!” Jarhead warns.

“What are you going to do?” the leader says with a laugh.

Inside Jarhead connects electrical leads to the door and waits. A moment later someone pounds on the door. He immediately hears a cry of pain.

”Suckers!” Jarhead comments.

After some cursing, someone fires a gun at door. The tinkerer smiles as he hears the bullet ricochet down the tunnel.

“I have an idea,” a muffled voice says. Then the gang gets quiet.

Elsewhere Gator slowly and carefully chips away the mortar between several cinder blocks. He gently slides them out of the way and slips inside.

Gator chooses to Act under fire to get inside quietly. He gets an 11.

Jarhead turns back to his work to find the gunlugger calmly leaning on a workbench.

“Gator! How the hell did you get in?” Jarhead says with a start. “You didn’t come down the chimney?”

“You left the back door open,” he says smiling horribly.

“I what?”

“Seems like you have a problem here,” Gator states.

“Seriously how did you get in?” Jarhead looks behind the bandaged man. No clue remains of his entrance. “How?”

“It looks like you might need to get out,” Gator comments.

Jarhead shakes his head. “Well it’s good to see you up on your feet.”

“I’m still feeling a bit sore,” the mercenary admits. “What day is it?”

“It has been about two weeks.”

“That sounds about right.” He sets his weapons on the bench. “I haven’t found my barter yet.”

“That I can’t help you with but here’s a rat,” the tinkerer says handing him a charred piece of rodent on a stick. “Was there something I need to worry about? They seemed like putzes.”

“Nothing right away,” Gator says biting into his rat. “They went to get something.”

Jarhead glances across the large room to his van. Allison yawns and gets up, leaving Memo and Waters to sleep inside.

“In the meantime,” Gator asks, “have you seen Morgana or anybody else around? What happened at the Autodoc?”

“The Autodoc sealed up because of the spores,” Jarhead explains. “It has to cleanse itself.”

“Wasn’t that supposed to open a week ago?” Allison says.

“Yeah, it keeps getting delayed,” he tells Gator. “So we’ve been chilling in the Music Bowl. This is the foundry, this is my space.”

Allison turns to the injured man. “Are you okay Gator?”

“I’ve been better. I’ve been worse, definitely been worse.” He turns back to his rat, picking the meat from the bones. Jarhead offers him another rat. Gator waves him off. “One will be enough for now. Another would just end up on the floor. I’ve done this before.”

Gator picks a scrap of meat from his teeth and tosses the remains in a bin. “So did everybody make out alive? That we care about.”

As Jarhead lists off people who escaped, Allison interjects, “Boo didn’t make it out.”

“That’s too bad,” Gator says.

”Yeah. But shit happens,” Jarhead says.

“Does that mean we have a vehicle open?” the mercenary asks.

“I think Violet gave the keys to his son,” the young woman says.

“Okay.”

The wiry man adds, “Most of us made it out okay. Your mercs have been busy. I haven’t seen them in the past couple days.”

Allison nods. “They went off someplace.”

“Maybe they got a job?” Gator guesses.

Suddenly the roar of an engine reverberates from the entranceway. After an initial growl, it grows louder and louder. Jarhead rushes to the steel doors.

Jump back to November.

A crowd blocks November as she approaches the shaft entrance. She cranes her neck to see four men and women in robes trying to hold back the mob as they shout their concerns. "Is the food safe? What are you going to do?"

November gets atop a ruined counter. "People!" she shouts. "You are not doing any good here. The council is working on the issue. The best we can do for now is take stock of what food we know is clean and let these people do their job.”

After a lot of discussion, I let her roll something like Manipulate a person. I offered acting under fire instead but relented when she threatened to use with Arresting Skinner.

She gets a 12 and marks experience. We decide that the advanced option does not come into play here.


A tall figure in green steps out of the crowd. “Someone should talk the council immediately. They need to respond to this.”

"Go talk to the council," she suggests.

“They’re going to talk to us?” he says. "We are refugees."

"I can talk to them if you like," she offers.

The crowd murmurs and nods. Slowly they disperse.

November approaches the relieved guards. "Did you see any signs that someone entered the tunnels?"

"We arrived just before the crowd," a fair headed priestess explains. She glances down the shaft. "The rope ladder is still up and coiled. I don't think anyone was here before us."

November looks down into the darkness. She reaches out with her mind. Joey, she calls.

November rolls Lost, gets a failure and marks experience.

She feels no connection, no sensation. Only a yawning darkness. Shiver runs up her spine as the maelstrom swirls through her thoughts, picking at her secrets.

Now for three harsh questions. First I ask, "what do you fear most?"

She says oblivion, the collapse of society, and the end of her.

"What would you sacrifice to ensure that never happens?" (I should’ve asked what wouldn’t she sacrifice).

She explains she wouldn't sacrifice innocents.

"Do you think your family wants you back?"

"Yes of course."

And now back to Violet.


Violet arrives at the stairwell to find the rotten wooden door unguarded. Her sharp eyes pick out recent scuff marks on the muddy floor. The distant sound of something falling echoes up from below.

Violet Reads a sitch and gets a 9. She marks experience. "What’s my enemy’s true position?" she asks.

Pulling on her gas mask, Violet pushes the door open. As she descends the shadow stairs, she hears a high pitch voice whimpering. At the base of the stairs she spots a pair of children. One lies face down in the thick soil while the other bends over him shaking his shoulder.

“Joey, joey get up!” the child cries.

Violet shines a light on the prone figure. The dirty haired child looks about ten. His head lies cracked open, a pale stalk sticking out a foot from his ruined skull.

The other child looks up with moist green eyes.“Joey won’t get up,” she cries as her forehead bulges and throbs.

A grimace crosses her face as Violet trains her rifle on the child. With a single shot she dispatches the doomed girl.

“I feel like a terrible person but there’s nothing I can do,” she says.

That's it for now. See you in two weeks.

Wednesday, May 13, 2015

Adapting Adventures: Adapting Material Between Systems

One of my secret pleasures as a game master s adapting adventure material to my own purposes. I find a special joy in reworking material from another source, a puzzle to be worked out, whether it is just adjusting the plot to fit the campaign or adapting material from one game system to another.

This week I muse on what lessons I’ve learned from doing so.

Adapting Material Between Systems

Loom of Fate (Mage: the Ascension to Mage: the Awakening)

1315406
I was recommended this adventure by the Darker Days podcast. The scenario’s plot revolves around a young woman fated to save a city by sacrificing her humanity. It raises the question whether she has free will and leaves the final decision in the players’ hands. Cosmologically, it deals with a lot of the big elements of the game (the Weaver, the Wyld, the Technocracy) as the protagonists deal with growing chaos in San Francisco as an ancient force of the Wyld slips its bindings.

To adapt this, I needed to decide how close to those defining concepts I would stay. My game was based in Chicago. So earthquakes were replaced with the threat of fire,a resurgent spirit of the Great Chicago Fire. I let one pylon (or cabal) of the Seers of the Throne take on a technognostic element so as to approximate the cyberpunk feel of the Technocracy.

Some changes were easy. The fated orphan mage became an Acanthus as did the other fated figures. The Weaver elements became simple spirits of order and the city.

Some things required more work. The Men in Black did not fit well in my established Seer Hierarchy. I replaced them with the Men in Black from Summoners, positing that they are an Abyssal manifestation due to the new mage’s early spells. The same thing happened with the Marauders who became demon and fire worshiping vampires known as the Malpheans.

In each case I needed to decide what was important from the core story and what could be replaced with an element more appropriate to the game I was running. In some cases things dovetailed nicely (I had already plotted to have something Bound beneath the city). In others I nearly rewrote the character or scene entirely.

The Banewarrens (D&D 3e to Arcana Evolved)

Banewarrens
This was my most ambitious adaptations as I translated large numbers of opponents between systems. A megadungeon meant to take PCs from 5th to 10th level, it includes many mid-level foes and leveled monsters. Even though both are d20 based, doing a complete translation was not simple. In addition to different spells (and magic system), classes, and races, it even has strange new armors and weapons for higher powered foes to use.

For example here are my notes for Navanna at some point through the game (sans spelling mistakes):

Navanna

Female Tiefling Unfettered 11-CR 11; HD 11d8+33 (94 hp), -4/-17; Initiative +7; Speed 40 ft.; AC 25 (+3 Dex, +6 armor, +2 shield, +4 dodge), +2 vs. one melee/ranged, +4 vs. attack of opportunity, +4 against missiles if move, expertise; Base At +11/+14; Attack longsword +16/+11/+6 melee (1d8+5/19-20) or longbow +15/+10/+5 ranged (1d8+3); SA sneak attack +2d6 (+3 At/dmg for sword), evasion, 1/day-veil of darkness (heightened); SQ darkvision 60 ft., air, fire, cold, electricity resistance 5; Save: F+6, R+10, W+5; Abilities: S16, D17, C17, I14, W14, C15.

Skills & Feats: Balance +5, Bluff +12, Climb +4, Diplomacy +8, Disguise +15, Escape Artist +11, Jump +5, Open Lock +10, Search +4, Sense Motive +10, Sleight of Hand +11, Sneak +13, Spot +7, Swim +9, Tumble +11. Defensive Move, Expertise, Fleet of Foot, Improved Initiative, Mobility, Speed Burst, Weapon Focus/Specialization (longsword).

Treasure: Cloak of charisma +2, headband of dimension door (1/day), +2 leather coat, +1 buckler, +1 longsword of subtlety, MW composite longbow (Str 16), 12 MW arrows, deathblade poison (2-DC 20 1d6 Con/2d6 Con), gold necklace (500 gp), emerald ring (1700 gp).

Potions of greater battle healing, ability boost (lesser), nondetection, glibness, invisibility (heightened), potion of lesser battle healing x3.


She was relatively easy to move over. Others like rangers and bards have poor fits in the other system.

There it helped that this was one of the first games I wrote entirely electronically (way back in 2004). Cut and paste templates for the stat blocks quickened my work also letting me grab specific elements of text from the adventure pdf (my preferred format for adventures) for my own notes.

Still it was a lot of work and I doubt I'll ever want to do that much again.

Next time we'll look at some instances of my plot modifications/synthesis and how that helped reduced the prep I needed to do. Even as I add more work to my to-do list.

Monday, May 11, 2015

Sample Sanctum: The Engels House

Time for another sanctum for players to discover, fight over and use. The Engels House has lain mostly empty for decades, ever since its former owner was murdered on the suspicion that he owned a potent artifact. Mostly empty because the ghosts he left behind continue his work.

The Engels House

EngelsHouse
This Victorian era house nestles in a decaying suburb on the south end of the city. Gaping holes stand where the windows were, splintered shards of glass ringing the edges as curtains waft in the open air. Inside a mix of damp and dust flavors the air, with the occasional whiff of acrid death. The occasional sound of animals or footsteps penetrate the wooden walls and floors.

The structure creaks with age but remains surprisingly stable. Under mage sight, supernal fortification shines clear. Those who can peer into Twilight reveal an ever so slightly creepier building. The resident ghosts can be felt but keep their distance. The walls themselves are reflected in Twilight, limiting passage and cloaking the home in some of a spectral glory. This impression extends to Shadow, as the spirit of the house retains a ghostly presence, ever felt but never seen. The house seems to be slumbering. Or waiting.

The Hallow sits within the home's tower. A gentle but cold breeze blows through the barren room. Occasionally a distant chime of music drifts in from somewhere else. The Hallow's resonance is one of whimsy tinge with an undercurrent of decay.

A cold air rises from the cellar which remains icy cold regardless of the season. Its simple brick walls seem to fill with shadows under even the most severe lights. The secret lies clocked in Mind magic, a flagstone rendered mentally invisible. No mere rock, it holds a fragment of the soul of the former owner, a mighty mage who pursued Ascension into the Supernal.

Nature threatens to take over the backyard, hiding a small family plot with 13 crumbling gravestones.
  • James Timothy Engels (1847-1877) “A Good Man and Beloved Husband”
  • Ezra Alison Midford-Engels (1854-1934) “Kind and devoted, she now is returned to her lost love”
  • William Edgar Engels (1849-1906) “Every man's life is a plan of God.”
  • Sarah Katherine Felner-Engels (1851-1887)
  • Hannah Engels (1874) “Beloved by God”
  • Unmarked (1881) “Gone from us too soon”
  • Adam Engels (1887-1968) “Death is the golden key that opens the palace of Eternity.”
  • Charles Nicholas Engels (1882-1946) “The heart of man is restless until it finds its rest in Thee.”
  • Elizabeth Anna Frost-Engels (1887-1921) “God gives us love. Something to love He lends us.”
  • Greta Julia Wright-Engels (1880-1947) “Whither thou goest, I will go.”
  • Doris Sarah Engels (1914-1932) “Where there is sorrow, there is holy ground.”
  • Chrysopoeia (1923-1959) “She hath awakened from the dream of life.”
  • Mobius (1930-1959) “Death is not a foe, but an inevitable adventure.”
gravestone

History

This Queen Anne Style home was built in 1873 by a pair of well to do craftsmen. The Engels brothers and their wives moved in and attempted to build a family here. Those plans reduced when James died of syphilis in 1877. His gravestone marks the beginning of the family plot. His wife Ezra remained at the house until her death in 1934.

The other brother, William, however prospered. His wife, Sarah, gave him 5 children until she died in labor in 1887. Two of those children died in infancy: Hannah and another who died before he could be christened. The eldest surviving child Jill (born 1875) married a journalist and moved to the East never to return. The youngest son Adam suffered brain damage in his strained birth. The boy remained forever addled, a giant with a tiny mind who hid within the house until his death in 1968, becoming the bogey man of the neighborhood.

Charles Engels inherited the house after his father died in 1906. He married twice: first to Elizabeth Frost who born him a son and a daughter before dying under suspicious circumstances in 1921. Charles's fortunes fell during the 1920s. As his debts mounted, he used the vestiges of his charms to seduce a wealthy widow named Greta. They married 1930. This enraged his daughter Doris who took to spending her time in the scandalous parts of Chicago. The darkness claimed her in 1932.

His son withdrew from his father after that. Unknown to the rest of the family, he had discovered a darker and grander world. The newly Awakened Moros communed with the dead and sought to find a path to the Supernal. When his father passed in 1946, he inherited the house.

Greta died shortly afterwards in 1947.

The son kept the house and made it his sanctum. His cabal (the Ouroborians) rose to be a prominent force in the early city Consilium drawing members from each order. Two now lay buried in the family plot. The tragedy that claimed them also led him to withdraw from society.

He was murdered in the early years of a Mage War, his unknown work finished but also untouched.

Next...

Next week I describe the current residents of the house and some of the secrets the former owner hid and which he still pursues.

Monday, May 4, 2015

Sample Sanctum: Logos Computing

Not all modern-day wizards live in grim old buildings surrounded by ancient occult tomes. Many appreciate the modern conveniences. The willworkers of Logos Computing take it a step farther, using magic to find optimal solutions to mundane problems. With the money from their consulting fees, they've finances an opulent office in one of the local high rises.

Cabal Details

Both the company and the cabal use the symbol of a book with a line of binary flowing out of it. They often shorten this to a styled icon: a rhombus on top of a square with three or four ones and zeros emerging from between them.
Logos
As one might expect the mages are very interested in the intersection of magic and technology and many belong to the order known as the Free Council. They also help fledgling mages learn the basics of magic and wizardly society. Despite their best efforts however, they rarely succeed in recruiting them to their cause.

Logos Computing

Attributes: Security (or Safe Place) 3, Hallow 2, Library 5
Ward: Potency 10
Gauntlet: 5 (-3 penalty)
Computer: monitored by a capable sysadmin with a pool of 10. 8 successes are needed to breach security.

Logos Computing Inc. occupies the top two floors of a renovated office building in the downtown area. Frosted glass partitions divide the spacious offices, each of which sport adjustable desks and ergonomic chairs as well as the latest computer accessories. An expensive security systems adds to the magical defenses to ward off scrying and spirits.

The lower floor is given over to offices, a meeting room, a well stocked kitchen and reception area. Dara usually covers the front desk.

The real work happens on the second level. Here the server room hums with the latest tech, collecting Mana from the Hallow and power from an intersection of ley lines. A large room has been set aside for ceremonial magic such as summonings. A very secure storeroom for books on their way to being digitized also is located her. A couple bedrooms also occupy this floor even though the members of Logos maintain separate quarters elsewhere in the city.

Dara Silverstein

Concept: Wiccan Secretary

Background: Dara grew up in a small town with a pair of ex-hippy parents. They gave her a lot of freedom growing up. Perhaps too much. After many bad choices throughout her high school years, Dara was glad to move away to college and get a fresh start.

There she fell in with a local Wiccan group. She distanced herself from the wild girl she sued to be and focused on the mysticism. By junior year, she had begun to doubt that magic was real. Then her friend Awakened.

Mary reminded Dara of her younger self, even if the towering woman was far more confrontational. When their 'leader' decided to chew her out for messing up a ceremony, Mary got a strange look and suddenly glowing bees were swarming everyone.

The next day Dara was surprised when the others seemed to forget the incident. Only Mary recalled what really happened and was almost as confused as she was.

The two stuck together and when Mary (now Verbina) joined Logos, she went with her. In some ways she clings to her old friend for assurance that she isn't crazy. She secretly believes her to be blessed by the gods.

Description: This sweet young woman keeps a large collection of professional clothes, favoring greens and browns. Short and heavy, she keeps her long brown hair up while she focuses on scheduling the team's activities both mundane and magical.

GM notes: Dara tends to fade into the background, especially around her old friend. She tries to show warmth to the neophyte mages that the cabal mentors, baking cookies and showing them around. The only fierceness she shows is when Verbina's actions or words are questioned.

Attributes: Mental 5, Physical 3, Social 5
Willpower: 4   Morality: 7
Virtue: Faith    Vice: Sloth
Initiative: 4     Defense: 2
Speed: 9           Health: 7