Thursday, July 15, 2021

New System, New Face: Cobbling Together an Orc Shaman in Advanced Fighting Fantasy 2nd Edition

Introducing another sub-sub-segment that takes me even farther away from what I initially started this blog to write about!

As I've mentioned in the past, generating characters is an old pastime of mine. I enjoy making character builds, not so much to powergame but to see how closely I can execute on a thematic concept within the confines of a system's mechanical limits- of course there's nothing wrong or contradictory with wanting to deliver roleplay potential and an effective party member. I think that's called the Stormwind Fallacy or some such?

Unfortunately, I'm only remotely good at this with games in the d20 system sphere. I have made far, far too many characters for D&D 3.5E, Pathfinder 1E, the Warcraft RPG, and more recently D&D 5E. This is natural to some degree, because d20 rulesets tend to have tons of rules and, conversely, tons of nitty-gritty player options that I enjoy tinkering with. But it reinforces the narrowness of my exposure to TTRPGs, and that's not a very good thing. So, I try to push against it once in a while.

This is why my blog has random bouts of TROIKA! and GLOG creativity- the rules are simple enough, and my attachment to the games minimal enough, that I can just futz around with them without triggering my anxiety.

New System, New Face (or whatever I end up calling this) will be another stab at that.

In essence, I pick up a system I've never played before that has enough crunch to build a character, and then do that. I put in some practice with those books I hardly touch while rambling like crazy, and you lot hopefully get some compelling NPCs out of it.

Cool?

Cool.

First in the lineup is, coincidentally, a child of the first gamey book I ever picked up as a whelp.

Game/Context

Advanced Fighting Fantasy 2nd Edition is based on the rules of Fighting Fantasy, the old choose-your-own-adventure book series with an RPG twist designed by Steve Jackson- no, the other one.

Goofy, grungy, and at times excruciatingly British, Fighting Fantasy had dozens of installments in the 80s and 90s, generally set in either fantasy or sci-fi worlds. You roll dice, track your character's Skill (do-everything combat and action stat), Stamina (health, and in the case of sorcerers, your magic pool), and Luck (permanently depleting saving throw stat), and hopefully don't die in a variety of horrible ways before hitting that last reference page. And gods help you if you didn't photocopy the character record before that cheap, mass-produced softcover book paper got erased full of holes.

My first exposure to the series was through the Sorcery! sub-series set in Titan, one of several FF universes. I actually found a copy of the first book, The Shamutanti Hills, tucked away in my elementary school library on a shelf low enough for me to reach. It hadn't been borrowed in half a decade before me, but I proceeded to take it out at least once every month for the remainder of my schooling. The librarians got so used to seeing me with that beat-up old thing, they gave it to me as a graduation present. I still have it tucked away in a shady spot in a ziplocked bag full of memories.


But this post is about building a character, not wistfully thinking back to the days before I learned what chilblains or systemic oppression are. On to the system!

AFF and its 2011 reboot AFF2E elaborate upon the same system as the old CYOA books. Skill, Stamina, and Luck are still there, but also Magic and Magic Points. You roll 2d6 to do everything, either opposed rolls or over/under target numbers, but you have a whole mess of special skills and talents to add to it. Character creation is fairly light and point-based, with no class or level-up system. You invest experience points in individual upgrades, and play how you want.

I want to play an orc, because of course I do, which means I need to turn toward the back of the book.

I find it pleasantly surprising that the core rulebook has rules for creating custom species and using them in mixed parties, especially when so much of Titan is divided along a hard, old school Chaos/Neutral/Good alignment axis. The rules aren't complex, but there are a couple of rounds to go through, and it works best if the type of creature you want to play already has a monster entry, either in this book or in the dedicated monster manual, Out of the Pit. Fortunately orcs do have an entry, alongside their goblin and troll cousins, and something like half a dozen crossbreeds.

A quick rundown of the rules is as follows: take the creature entry's stats and subtract 3 from Skill. Then, divide Stamina by 2 (but not really), throw out any fractions, and add your remaining Skill to that number. Then compare the sum to the baseline number 8- if your sum is below 8, you get extra points to add features to the new player species. If it's at the baseline, you're already on par with the book's default humans, dwarves, and elves. If it's above the baseline, you gotta pay for it in a small way later.

Orcs sit at a middling 6 Skill, 5 Stamina, which becomes 3 Skill and 5 Stamina. The point-buy formula number is 5 (3 + 2.5, nix the fraction), which is 3 points lower than 8. That means our orc gets 3 extra points to buy ancestry abilities with. The normal total is 6, but we have 9. Not bad!

Special Skills cost 1 point each, while characteristic bumps and non-combat talents cost 2 each. Combat or magic-related talents cost a whopping 4 points, and I won't be taking any of those here.

Orcs commonly live underground or are active at night, so I give my orc species the Dark Seeing talent for 2 out of 9 points. The Survivor talent raises that to 4, because they manage to survive in the most filthy and inhospitable places in the world, and that means constantly securing sufficient food, water, and shelter. I've decided my orc is from the deserts of the southern continent of Khul. That means my 5th point goes to the Desert Lore special skill.

The last 4 points I spend on characteristic boosts, increasing Skill from 3 to 4 and Stamina from 5 to 7. This makes the orc a little more competitive with humans, dwarves, and elves, who all start with stat minimums of 4 Skill and 8 Stamina, on top of their own racial bonuses. Luck starts at 8 for everyone, orcs included.

Building Friends out of Clay

I now have to decide what I want this individual orc to be like, and to choose that I need to know about the orc in general.

Orcs have it pretty rough in Titan. They and their aforementioned goblin and troll cousins are the premier foot soldiers and cannon fodder for the armies of Chaos, the blanket faction for everything evil ruled by a few dark gods in this universe. They are at home underground, but infest every known climate across the world. They live a miserable, squalid existence caught somewhere in between the flavors of fascistic Tolkien orc and the green-skinned savage pulp fantasy orc that was becoming popular in wargame circles in the 80s and 90s.

They are built from equal parts racial stereotype and boisterous rugby hooligan, and the disparate pieces are constantly on the verge of tearing themselves apart. No two depictions of orcs are the same across all of FF canon, from their culture and organization all the way down to their biology- and since FF orcs aren't resistant to Chaos like their Warhammer counterparts, mutations abound. Playing an orc in the modern incarnation of Titan means wading through this legacy-mΓ©lange of tropes whose only unifying factors seem to be cruelty and unhappiness.

It wasn't always like that, though.

The orcish origin story is rather Tolkienien. When the gods of good were ordering the world, a servant of the earth goddess Throff wanted in on the action. His name was Hashak, and he wished to create children of his own. So he stole a little lump of the Clay of Life from Throff, and shaped it into living things. First came the trolls, whom he was embarrassed by because of their lumpiness and stupidity. Next came the multitudinous orcs, and then the smaller and more refined goblins. They were all very primitive and childlike at this stage; the word "orc" seems to be a corruption of the first belch or grunt they made when they came to life- urk!


Hashak the Orc-God by Paul Bonner


But before much could be done with them, Throff came home, saw the missing clay, and commanded Hashak to destroy his unauthorized creations. Hashak feigned compliance, and mixed a bit of plain old soil into the ball of clay to make up the lost mass. Then he took his children and scattered them in vaults across the world, hopeful that at least some of them would survive in the world they were not meant for. His wish was granted in the worst possible way. The gods of chaos saw Hashak hide his children, and they followed in his wake, breathing evil into each and every one of their hiding places.

Basically, it's like if AulΓ« the smith was a well-meaning idiot who hid the dwarves when Eru IlΓΊvatar said playtime was over, and then Morgoth hotboxed them all into orcs with his halitosis.

Exactly like that.

Unlike Middle-Earth, pseudo-biblical redemption is not a very big part of Titan's story. It's a world of heroic fantasy that's every bit as noisy and dirty as the art style suggests. Orcs are only to be encountered as foes, and only rarely as pitiable characters in their own right.

Character Concept

Naturally, I say screw that. We're making a gods-damned orc shaman of Hashak, and he's gonna find a way rescue and valorize the hell out of the children of clay!

Our friend was once a totally unremarkable member of the small Withered Fist tribe from the Dark Land of Khul, located uncomfortably close to the Wastes of Chaos but not especially prone to mutation. One day he got cracked on the head so hard that his skull split open in an intra-tribal dispute, and his fellows left him for dead with the onset of a sandstorm.

Instead of dying as he rightly should have, something slipped into his fractured brain. A vision of Hashak came to him, urging him to take up the lost, old ways and reject the breath of evil. He also granted him a new name, calling him Gurumph'tani- a name very much unlike the stereotypically coarse, simple names most orcs seem to have.

When he awoke, Gurumph'tani was willing to pass it off as a hallucination. But he found that his skull was mended together with a piece of clay harder than rock. His mind felt clearer. For the first time in his life, he slowed down and started to think about things. He left the wasteland behind, and by some miracle was able to avoid getting killed on sight at the first human port city he came across- though they did butcher his name beyond recognition, so now he simply goes by 'Grumf' for the sake of simple human ears.

Now he follows the will of Hashak, always quiet and difficult to hear through the background static of Chaos. He is quiet, tolerant, and contemplative, though his pale yellow eyes and giant patch of head-clay can be off-putting.

My mind made up, we return to mechanics.

Building a Character (Finally)

A standard new "Hero" has 4 Skill, 8 Stamina, 8 Luck, and 0 Magic with 8 points to distribute between them, with points invested in Stamina counting for two. We have 4/7/8/0 which is close, and I'm sure that magic pixel of health won't be needed anytime soon...

As an orc who just wandered out of Khul, he's going to be hardy. But as a brand new shaman, he needs at least a little Magic. Fortunately Priestly magic is a lot less demanding than either Wizardry or Sorcery, so I think I can get away with a starting Magic stat of 3.

Luck gets 2 points added, partly because this character has been pretty lucky to survive up to this point, but also because you can never buy more Luck points after character creation, and it's a pseudo-finite resource that only gods and great deeds can restore, so you want to get as many as you can spare now. That leaves us with a nice neat 10, our highest stat.

Skill gets 2 to make a modest 6. This value gets lots of other numbers added to it depending on the type of roll, so we can compensate for the time being with decent skills. I was infected by the terribly video gamey trope of fantasy shamans being at least adequate melee combatants at an early age, like a less mail-clad cleric, and our buddy here will be attempting the same.

And yes, Skill and (Special) Skills being different stats is a bit confusing.

The last point goes into Stamina, bumping it up to 9. It's a little low for someone who isn't a dedicated thief or magic user, but the ability to self-heal with priestly powers will mitigate that a bit.

Speaking of priestly powers, we should address those next.

Instead of having to roll spellcasting dice and risking failure and a trip to the Oops! random mishap table like Wizardry and Sorcery require, Priestly powers just work. You say the power you want to happen, and it happens, but you can only use each power once a day. There are some numerical considerations, but all you need is your Devotion score (Magic stat + Magic-Priestly ranks). Grumf's starting Devotion is 5.

Powers are limited by the priest's deity, each of which has a list of 3 common powers plus one power unique to them. You can only be a priest of one deity at a time, and falling out of favor with that god is a massive ordeal that doesn't go well, because this is old school fantasy and unintuitive dogmatic henotheism is in full swing, baby. We're already riding or dying with Hashak though, so all we need to do is go to his entry in the list of gods and-

oh

Oh right.

See, Hashak only ever gets a few small mentions in a scattering of FF books, the biggest reference being in Titan- The Fighting Fantasy World. But aside from a holiday (6th of Snow Cloak, AKA January 6th), Hashak gets none of the other treatment a god gets. That means he has no clergy or worship information, and no priestly powers list.

But we can fudge that a tiny bit. It'll be our little secret.

No, I'm not going to homebrew a bunch of stuff in a post ostensibly about practicing with a new system. I'm just going to rearrange a few things to be more thematically appropriate.

Since Hashak's one big claim to fame is making things out of magic clay, I'll be mashing together the powers of the aforementioned earth goddess Throff and her son Verlang the smithing god. We'll take Verlang's common powers--Heal, Commune, and Ward--and mix them with Throff's special power, a 10-second localized earthquake. Grumf's Devotion score is only needed for two of these powers- Heal, for the amount that he, well, heals with a single use, and as the target number to overcome Ward, which is basically a magic circle against undead, evil spirits, demons, etc. It's not much, but it's something.

Next up is Special Skills.

Special Skills get added to your Skill or Magic number for relevant rolls, and can have up to 6 ranks each. Most start at 1, but you can give a new hero three rank-2 skills at start. These three will be Magic-Priestly, Clubs, and Armour with almost zero hesitation.

The other six skills, all rank-1, will be Religious Lore, Magic Lore, Second Sight to detect magic, Healing to apply first aid to himself or others the way Hashak saved him, Awareness to keep his wits about him, and Magic-Minor to unlock some little tricks. He is still a fledgling to the supernatural, but he has a broad and ad hoc base for it developing.

Minor Magic is a collection of cantrips that only consume Magic Points when you miscast them. Grumf has 8 Magic Points (Magic stat x2 + Magic-Minor ranks x2). Things like creating a fire, mending holes in items, forming temporary disgust between two people, or making spoiled food edible are all Minor Magic spells. Makes me yearn for the sheer versatility and coverage of Prestidigitation, but oh well. I pick Mend, Ripen, and Weather Protection as basic utility spells for my shaman.

Language is a special skill handled separately. He's fluent in Orcish at a 4, and at Common 2 he can get by with occasional pauses and a noticeable accent.

We've got one last choice to make, and that is his starting (non-species) Talent. I chose Blessed, allowing him to cast one priestly power twice a day. It'll come in handy if he needs to spot heal an ally in danger.

With that, he's done. All that remains is to apply his starting equipment kit- backpack, food, 2d6 coins, a starting weapon of your choice, etc. I gave him a rather clerical mace because it uses the club fighting skill, and it has really consistent damage numbers- you deal or absorb damage in AFF by rolling a d6 and checking the individual armor or weapon's table for a value.

Heroes earn 50 experience points per adventure, plus or minus a bit extra depending on whether the player contributed to good or bad shenanigans. If he stays cautious, Grumf might survive long enough to really come into his own, and start delving into how to alter the fate of his people.

His best bets for where to go first are probably Blacksand or KharΓ©, both city-ports that host notable populations of "monstrous" citizens in and around the rampant crime and villainy. Not a great place, but a good place to make a first impression.

Here's his sheet, for those interested. If you want to make him an NPC just upgrade his armor to a leather hauberk and large shield, remove his Luck stat, and add the 2 points that were spent on it elsewhere, ideally Skill and/or Magic.

Tiny orc shaman face by Mihai Radu

Tuesday, July 13, 2021

GLOG Class Attempt: The π»π‘œπ“ƒπ‘œπ“Šπ“‡π“‹π‘œπ“‡π‘’

They call you arrogant. Conceited. A braggart. Mentally unhinged. A shining example of toxic aristocracy. Liable to slay the dragon and forget to unchain the princess. So full of hot air that your suit of armor should come with a "WARNING: CONTENTS UNDER PRESSURE" label printed on the plackart.

You have no defense against any of these.

...

But that is okay! You do not need to win arguments.

You do not need anything else but π»π‘œπ“ƒπ‘œπ“Šπ“‡.

No, not honor. π»π‘œπ“ƒπ‘œπ“Šπ“‡ with a 'u', spoken with a breathy sigh and a Habsburg Jaw. It is different. Better. Inherently more... π»π‘œπ“ƒπ‘œπ“Šπ“‡π’Άπ’·π“π‘’.

You live π»π‘œπ“ƒπ‘œπ“Šπ“‡. Breathe it. Drink it. Worship it. Dream about it in the late hours of the night. Your body is a self-sufficient π»π‘œπ“ƒπ‘œπ“Šπ“‡ ecosystem, both absorbing it from the world and producing it until you achieve perfect, π»π‘œπ“ƒπ‘œπ“Šπ“‡π’Άπ’·π“π‘’ equilibrium.

Words like "knight" and "paladin" no longer hold a candle to what you are.*

You are an π»π‘œπ“ƒπ‘œπ“Šπ“‡π“‹π‘œπ“‡π‘’. Go forth. Consume it. Excrete it. Cover the world in it, one deed at a time.

* Technically speaking, you never actually earned either of those titles, but when have you ever let a complete and utter lack of liege, land, or lineage get in the way of your π»π‘œπ“ƒπ‘œπ“Šπ“‡?

π»π‘œπ“ƒπ‘œπ“Šπ“‡π“‹π‘œπ“‡π‘’

Starting Equipment: plate armour, shield, anachronistic broadsword, parade livery, ridiculous  π»π‘œπ“ƒπ‘œπ“Šπ“‡π’Άπ’·π“π‘’ looking helmet.
Starting Skills: Courtesy, Speechmaker, π»π‘œπ“ƒπ‘œπ“Šπ“‡

A: π»π‘œπ“ƒπ‘œπ“Šπ“‡ Points, Honorophage
B: Smite π”‡π”¦π”°π”₯𝔬𝔫𝔬𝔲𝔯
C: Aura of π»π‘œπ“ƒπ‘œπ“Šπ“‡
D: For the π»π‘œπ“ƒπ‘œπ“Šπ“‡, Most π»π‘œπ“ƒπ‘œπ“Šπ“‡π’Άπ’·π“π‘’

You gain +1 HP and +1 to Reaction Rolls against nobles, knights, glory hounds, quixotic madmen, and other π»π‘œπ“ƒπ‘œπ“Šπ“‡π’Άπ’·π“π‘’ types for each π»π‘œπ“ƒπ‘œπ“Šπ“‡π“‹π‘œπ“‡π‘’ template you have.

A: π»π‘œπ“ƒπ‘œπ“Šπ“‡ Points
You keep a running tally of the bones broken and property destroyed in your reckless disregard pursuit of π»π‘œπ“ƒπ‘œπ“Šπ“‡, and these "points" help bolster your ego in times of need. Every time you take damage or break valuables worth at least 10gp while doing something exceptionally stupid brave and attractive in the name of π»π‘œπ“ƒπ‘œπ“Šπ“‡, gain 1 π»π‘œπ“ƒπ‘œπ“Šπ“‡ Point. You can store up to 10 Points within your π»π‘œπ“ƒπ‘œπ“Šπ“‡ Glands- yes those are a real thing, ask any π’Ήπ‘œπ’Έπ“‰π‘œπ“Šπ“‡. Loot lost in this way does not count toward XP.

A: Honorophage
You are true to your namesake, and can subsist exclusively on π»π‘œπ“ƒπ‘œπ“Šπ“‡ so long as you keep the gallant deeds rolling. Whenever you would eat a Ration, you may instead spend 1 π»π‘œπ“ƒπ‘œπ“Šπ“‡ Point for the same effect. You must spend the entire meal recounting past deeds and valor, whether real or imagined.

B: Smite π”‡π”¦π”°π”₯𝔬𝔫𝔬𝔲𝔯
You may draw upon your body's reserves of π»π‘œπ“ƒπ‘œπ“Šπ“‡ to smite those who would dare harbor the taint of π”‡π”¦π”°π”₯𝔬𝔫𝔬𝔲𝔯 within themselves. When you make an Attack against someone π”‡π”¦π”°π”₯π”¬π”²π”«π”¬π”―π”žπ”Ÿπ”©π”’ you may spend 3 π»π‘œπ“ƒπ‘œπ“Šπ“‡ Points. If you do, take -4 to Attack in exchange for +4 Damage if the attack is successful, as you call your enemy out, bow, verbally abuse them, and declare your attack. If you miss, the Points are not expended. Because you are undoubtedly the embodiment of π»π‘œπ“ƒπ‘œπ“Šπ“‡, 𝔇𝔦𝔰π”₯𝔬𝔫𝔬𝔲𝔯 is anything that you do not stand for, or anything immediately inconvenient to you.

C: Aura of π»π‘œπ“ƒπ‘œπ“Šπ“‡
Your prodigious π»π‘œπ“ƒπ‘œπ“Šπ“‡ Glands have become hyperactive. You may express these glands by spending 5 π»π‘œπ“ƒπ‘œπ“Šπ“‡ Points to create a palpable 20' cloud of π»π‘œπ“ƒπ‘œπ“Šπ“‡ centered on you for 3 rounds. Anyone in this cloud takes -1 Attack and Defense as they paw at their noses and try not to be violently ill. This is the π”‡π”¦π”°π”₯𝔬𝔫𝔬𝔲𝔯 being expelled from their bodies, you see. You gain +1 Save vs Fear and +1 Attack in the cloud, and you find it quite pleasant and aromatic besides.

D: For the π»π‘œπ“ƒπ‘œπ“Šπ“‡
You realize that there is nothing more π»π‘œπ“ƒπ‘œπ“Šπ“‡π’Άπ’·π“π‘’ than saving your own skin so that you might survive to π»π‘œπ“ƒπ‘œπ“Šπ“‡ another day. You may spend 10 π»π‘œπ“ƒπ‘œπ“Šπ“‡ Points to remove 1 Fatal Wound.

D: Most π»π‘œπ“ƒπ‘œπ“Šπ“‡π’Άπ’·π“π‘’
You have done it. You have completed the ritual of Accepting True π»π‘œπ“ƒπ‘œπ“Šπ“‡ Into Oneself, a rite involving an idol of the anthropomorphic manifestation of π»π‘œπ“ƒπ‘œπ“Šπ“‡ and a preponderance of body oil. You gain double the π»π‘œπ“ƒπ‘œπ“Šπ“‡ Points from all sources, but more importantly you may now call yourself Most π»π‘œπ“ƒπ‘œπ“Šπ“‡π’Άπ’·π“π‘’.

Tuesday, June 29, 2021

GLOG Class Attempt: The Wildered

 

Shapeshifter by Stephanie Lostimolo

The world of people once made sense to you, and perhaps you even belonged there for a time. But then you heard Nature's call, and you gave yourself over to it. It's called to you a few times since then. There's little left of your old self now- even your body has begun to take on a new shape, sculpted as it is by the wild whims of the land into an amalgam of plant, animal, and person. You're not some great protector or apex predator, at least not yet. You're just a better denizen than most.

But that will change at any moment, when the wild comes calling again.


The Wildered

Starting Equipment: tattered and travelworn clothes, a wooden club.
Starting Skills: Wilderness.

A: Drift, Hear the Land Whisper
B: Drift
C: Drift
D: Drift, See the Land Breathe

You gain +1 HP for every Wildered template you possess.

A-D: Drift
Each time you gain a template, roll once on the Drift table. Reroll any repeats. Drift is superficially similar to mutation, only it comes from giving yourself over to the transformative whims of Wild Nature instead of being corrupted by unnatural magic.

Most normal people won't know or appreciate this distinction.

1d20

Drift

Effect

1

Coat of Fur

A thick coat of fur covers your skin, giving you +4 to Constitution on rolls to resist cold. You shed excessively to keep cool in warm weather.

2

Prehensile Tail

You grow a long tail, or a vine close enough to one. It can manipulate objects like a hand or carry an item to give you 1 additional Quick Draw Slot, but it can’t do things like wield a weapon or use a magic item.

3

Sporogenesis

You gain the power to produce and store noxious spores. You can eject a 10’ cloud of spores centered on you once per day. Anyone caught in the cloud must Save or be stunned for 1 round. Also, every spore cloud has a 1 in 100 chance of spawning a small, feral copy of you in that area in 1d6 years.

4

Digitigrade

Both your feet stretch and twist into springy animal legs. You suffer no penalties to Movement over rough terrain, and can Move and Run +10’.

5

Scaly Hide

Your skin becomes scaly and snakelike. Gain +1 Defense for 3 weeks out of the month. You shed and regrow your skin over the fourth week. The new you never looks perfectly like your last skin.

6

Photosynthesis

Leaves grow around your head like a mane of hair, soaking up sunlight. If you rest in a sunny area, you don’t need to consume a ration.

7

Vine or Vice

You grow either prehensile vines or a clasping appendage like a pincer. You gain +2 on rolls to grapple someone.

8

Thanatosis

You gain the power to play dead very convincingly, stopping your breathing, heartbeat, and other bodily processes for up to 1 hour per day.

9

Root System

You can lay down roots wherever there is natural ground for them to bore into. Your Strength counts as 20 against being pushed, shoved, or moved. You can also detect soil quality and underground water within 30’.

10

Fang & Claw

You gain some kind of natural defense of your choice, such as claws, hooves, fangs, a beak, etc. You can attack with it as a Light weapon.

11

Sensitive Snout

Your face elongates and becomes bestial. You gain an acute sense of smell, and can track creatures and things by scent.

12

Lignification

Cell walls in your muscles toughen, and your blood runs thick like sap. Reduce all incoming damage by 1. Also, cuts stop bleeding after 1 round.

13

Poisonous

Glands across your body secrete a toxic substance. Anything that grabs you or hits you with a bare part of their body must Save or take 1d4 damage. Anything that bites you has -4 on the Save.

14

Venomous

A venomous stinger erupts from some part of your body. You can make an Attack roll once a day to inject a target with your venom (1d6).

15

Creeping & Climbing

Your hands and feet sport sticky pads or hairlike filaments. Climb as fast as you can Run. You can attempt impossible climb tests.

16

Semi-Aquatic

You grow rudimentary gills, a few fins, and possibly a swim bladder. Swim as fast as you can Run and breathe water for up to 1 hour a day.

17

Camouflage

Reactive pigments and patterns in your skin, hair, etc. attempt to blend you into your surroundings under duress. Gain +2 to Stealth.

18

Vestigial Wings

You sprout a set of wings. They can be feathered, leathery, diaphanous, etc. They are too weak to fly with, but they can slow your descent. Take ½ damage from falling.

19

Regeneration

As long as you stay alive, you can regrow a severed limb after 1 year has passed. You can only regenerate one limb at a time.

20

Bounteous Branches

Branches like antlers sprout from your head and shoulders. You grow fruit worth 1d4 rations every week. Picked fruit spoils in 4 days.


A: Hear the Land Whisper
You lose the ability to read or write any language, and can never become literate again. Once per day you can meditate in a place of undisturbed wilderness for 10 minutes. If you do, you can ask 1 question of the land as if you had successfully cast Dendrigraphy with 1 Magic Die invested, except you can ask your question of any natural topography- a tree, a rock formation, a glacier, etc.

D: See the Land Breathe
Just as your body has been wildered, so too is your mind. You suffer a permanent loss of 1d3 Wisdom and 1d3 Charisma as you let superfluous things like mortal cognition and interpersonal relations atrophy. You can see the vague outlines of invisible things, and know if someone is a spellcaster just by looking them in the eyes, as if you were affected by the permanent effects of Wizard Vision. Druids start off non-hostile to you, and offer some begrudging recognition of your wildered status.

Saturday, June 19, 2021

GLOG Class Attempt: Garden Hermit

 

Eremit in Flottbeck,
Johann Baptist Theobald Schmitt

You are, or were, a professional Garden Hermit.

What that means is that you dedicated a large portion of your life to being a living, breathing curiosity. You would seek out, or be sought out by, a wealthy and eccentric patron interested in writing up a contract to have you live as their novelty guest in a cottage, cave, or other secluded area of their property for a set number of years. During this period you would try to live up to their (at times extremely exacting) stipulations.

What these stipulations are vary from patron to patron. Sometimes they wanted you to be seen but not heard, acting as a distant piece of ornamentation for their estate, to be studied and appreciated from afar. Others actively engaged you, bringing guests to seek your earthy and introspective brand of wisdom. Still others wanted you to live like a ghost, hiding from the outside world and leaving only mere hints that your garden or grotto were inhabited- a pair of reading glasses left out on a table here, a half-eaten apple there.

It is a slow, isolated, oftentimes tedious way of life, and recently it has come under existential threat with the invention of lawn gnomes. But you make it work. The job pays surprisingly well. It offers a unique perspective on many aspects of life. It is a window into the natural world, albeit one made tame and a little less deadly. It also offers a window into the lives of the aristocrats who employ you. Much juicy gossip can be learned while legally lurking around the gardens of an affluent and well-connected noble family.


Garden Hermit

Starting Equipment: anachronistic faux-druidic robes, philosophical text, pruning shears.
Starting Skills: Gardening and Philosophy. Also, roll on the adjacent table.

A: Part of the Scenery
B: Dispense Wisdom, Land Lore
C: Used to Boredom
D: Mistaken for Magic

You gain +1 Stealth for each Garden Hermit template you possess. You get +2HP if you possess 2 or more Garden Hermit templates.

A: Part of the Scenery

If you are in any sort of manicured nature such as a public park, noble's estate, or garden, you can choose to blend in and become part of the scenery. While blended in, no one will notice or pay much heed to you so long as you spend your time doing Garden Hermit Things. These include studying/picking plants, reading old-timey philosophical texts, pretending to be an ornamental statue, etc.

B: Dispense Wisdom

You've played the part of the wise hermit long enough that it occasionally does some good. Make an opposed Wisdom roll to drag someone into dialogue about any topic. On a success, you trap them in engrossing or tedious debate for up to 1 hour. At the end of that hour your combination of platitudes and elenctic interrogation leads them to form their own good advice, giving them +1 to their next roll related to the topic of the debate.

B: Land Lore

Years of quiet observation have given you familiarity with the land, and you can identify most garden-variety plants and animals by sight or sound. Once per session, you can also declare a little-known but "interesting" fact about a type of plant or animal. The base chance of the fun-fact actually being true is 50%.

C: Used to Boredom

It's a dull affair, being a Garden Hermit. You sit around a grotto or hovel day after day, year after year, waiting to be stared at like a zoo animal or asked what the meaning of life is by a bunch of addled nobles. Occasionally an interesting bird lands nearby. You are immune to the negative effects of magic that slows down time or puts you to sleep, and you can never go mad from isolation.

D: Mistaken for Magic

You have become rustic and sagely-looking enough that you appear to the average person as a Chartered Garden Wizard of good repute at first glance. You can choose to pass as one by rolling under Charisma. Carrying a spellbook or scroll gives you +4 Charisma for the roll. Note that you cannot actually use spellbooks or scrolls, most people will be angry if they discover you are a charlatan, and druids will probably catch your scent and try to hunt you down sooner or later.


1d6

Garden Hermit Skills

1

You picked up woodcarving to pass the time, and have gotten good at it. Gain a small knife, quarterstaff, and 1d6 scars on your hands.

2

You use the isolation to further your studies. Gain 1d3 extra philosophical texts and 1 treatise penned by you.

3

Your last contract was terminated after you were found drinking at a tavern. Gain 2 bottles of beer.

4

You used garden hermeticism as a cover to steal from your employers. Gain a pair of nice boots and 1d6 pieces of cutlery.

5

You were also the groundskeeper for your stingy former employer. Gain a box of really rich dirt.

6

You are more proactive about your job security than other Garden Hermits. Gain a carpenter's hammer and 3d6 trophies from defeated lawn gnomes.


Wednesday, June 2, 2021

The Closing of the Door

The world ended, and salvation was denied.

Everyone knew this, because God Itself said so.

At least, most people believe It was God.

Admittedly no one had ever expected a giant diaphanous mantis to emerge from the Doors, all a-glimmer with silver inlaid silk and what smelled like rendered human fat.

And at least, most people believe that was what God said.

It was so long ago, and thunderous shrieks and mandibular clicks are rather challenging to translate when your eyes and ears bleed at the mere recollection of them.

God or no, the thing was powerful enough to open the Doors, and that alone had been miraculous. No one had ever managed to open the Doors- let alone damage them.

An entire generation has been born since that fateful day, so a bit more explanation is probably in order. Young people these days don't know their history. They're far more interested in collecting the newest and trendiest saints' bones, or predicting when the moon will stop screaming again.¹

For as long as history has been recorded, and probably for a good deal longer, the Doors stood watch over the world. They stood in the center of a black sand desert, taller than most mountains, and they were about as wide as one too. Even traveling in a straight line along the depth of one of their columns took several days on beastback. They had a sharp, angular construction with clean lines and a cold, dark grey coloration. They were made from a glassy rock that reflected sunlight some of the time, and absorbed it other times. At times it was reported to look porous. This is assuredly false. And the Doors were paired, if the pluralization wasn't an indicator.

The Doors were everything to us. They made our earliest, amiant-clad ancestors look up in awe and wonder. They sheltered our huddled bands from the five cardinal winds when they decided to bite and tear. They gave us something to emulate in our own architecture. They gave us something to aspire to understand through our arts and sciences. Shining cities rose up and studded the black desert around the Doors like the gleaming teeth that light up the night sky. I can scarcely believe that civilization would have developed in any recognizable way—if at all—without the Doors.

But we just couldn't figure out how to open the blasted thing.

Animals, ropes, and pulleys all failed to make them budge. Engines of all make broke down or exploded before they made any headway. Even astral arts failed to loosen their hinges- or ascertain if they truly had hinges at all. We couldn't even figure out which side, if any, was the "front" or "back" for the longest time- no matter how many holy wars one ideological camp launched against the others.

And there were many wars, mind you. At times the primordial, unchanging stillness of the Doors made the destruction and carnage which surrounded it seem all the more vibrant and terrible by contrast. Cities rose up, but they also fell smoldering into ruin beneath the indifferent shadow of that edifice. 

From the ashes arose new realms, though none ever settled directly before or behind the Doors- not only was it sacrilege, it would be suicide when the Doors finally swung open and smote all in their arcs, as surely they would one day. We knew it even then, so certainly and fervently, though centuries had dulled a little bit of our fire I suppose.

The day started like any other. Countless scribes and splinter sects have described the hours preceding the event as absolutely drowning in prophetic phenomena, but you can trust that there was none of that. That humdrum monotony was among the last things these eyes of mine ever saw, after all.²

It felt like an earthquake, when it started. In fact you very well could call it an earthquake, except instead of originating from the heart of the earth, it came from its soul. The tremors grew worse, towers fell, and fires began to spread. Finally, all eyes not blinded by smoke saw the way the left-hand door was slightly ajar. Over the next half-hour, it and its twin swung outward fully.

Within was pitch blackness studded by the twist and swirl of nebulae and the wild dance of heavenly bodies careening through space. A million voices cried out in sudden awe, terror, and prayer- and a few miles around the edge of the Door, I am told, millions more rose up in shrieks of ultimate despair as they found themselves unable to witness this event from the Wrong Side. I am told many who found themselves in that circumstance soon died, whether by their own hands or by sheer grief. I envy their alacrity.

Slowly, the infinity within the Doors began to change and distort. Swarms hundreds of thousands strong began to push toward the portal, jockeying for space between sects and congregations until a crowd crush of such force and ferocity occurred that they are still picking the bodies out of the shattered tiles of that most sacred avenue.

At last, the first raptorial leg breached the yielding, filmy surface of the portal like it was piercing an embryonic sac- but from which side, I cannot say. The second came soon after, each bearing blades that could smite whole armies had they the intent to. By now, all were cowed, stopped dead in their tracks. I remember watching all of this from my window. I clung to the sill so tightly that the tendons exploded out of the backs of my hands.

Finally came the mandibles. And then the multifaceted eyes. And then the barbed, silken body.

And then the Voice.

I learned that day that there is a level of heavenly rapture so terrifying in its intensity that it is indistinguishable from the most hellish torment.

We could not understand what God said, but we still knew it.

We heard the initial upswell of grace and glory, followed by a certain stumbling, and then... confusion. God blinked Its alien eyes and looked around as It drew both arms in pensively. There was silence that begged to endure for an eternity after we'd had our souls blasted to pieces by those trumpets.

Then, It questioned us.

It questioned what was happening.

'What is this? What are you? What have you done to the Appointed Day? Where is your Prophet? Where is the casting of clover roots and the boiling of lead? Why have you not prepared the Way? Had It not carefully instructed Its messenger to prepare you all for the Once & Final Journey? Where has gone the Bruised One?' ³

It then began to scold us. To call us names that now adorn countless monuments and graffiti. Impudent Children. Dawdlers. Undeserving. False. Those who had ran closest to the Doors did not have time to flee before they burned away into stacks of carbon and clouds of incense smoke.

Insulted, indignant, and impatient, the thing that was God shrieked and turned away. Sources differ on whether or not It scooped up a small group of people in one arm, and sources further differ on whether these people were the Chosen Ones or merely a snack for a rather hangry insect. It finally reached Its arms out and seized the Doors. Their claws bit deep into the stone as they swung inward at the speed of sound. The stone struck, the sky split, and the earth trembled.

I awoke some hours later in the rubble of my home. Everything closer than that was naught but dust.

We do not know how much destruction was wrought, because we never looked beyond the horizon of our sacred little desert. There were inklings of a world beyond, but why would we have cared about anything that was not Doorward? The peoples of those lands were benighted savages, and we were... we were...

We only know that the horizon that had been there that morning was now gone. Nothing persists beyond.

God was gone too, as was the portal It had passed through. All that remained was the wreckage of the Doors.

It was as if a mountain had toppled, because in many ways one had. What is left of the world is irrevocably altered.

We believed this was the end. Surely nothing could come after this, when the sun was knocked out of sync and the five winds were dead? How could we survive? Why would we?

As it turned out, we did not account for mortal stubbornness.

Many died, and many more were killed in the aftermath. I know I'd be dead right now had I gotten my ruptured hands on anything effective for the task, but again I was new to blindness at the time. But most did not perish on that day, and it was with more bemusement than mass hysteria that they all picked themselves back up and ambled through the dust.

The fires were put out, and the dead were mourned- often in massive, nameless heaps too tall to name or count. The hills they were covered over with now support entire shrines and temples. Yes, new shrines and temples. Some were simple dedications of honor to the dead, but others were... something else entirely. Some are even built out of the fragments of the Door, which became the most plentiful—albeit unmalleable—building material in the world.

We simply found new things to believe in. Many people deny that that thing had been God or even a god, but many more acknowledged it yet moved on. My quip about saints' bones earlier points to the very true fact that we have forced death to beget new beginnings, and that the Closing of the Door was a foundational moment that has been literally and figuratively built upon by the next generation.

Even now, I hear the rumblings of a hunt being organized to chase off another incursion by those things that dwelt in parts once perpendicular to us. The mood is light, almost flippant, as volunteers fetch their riddle-woven earspoons. They know they have succeeded many times before, and think they will do so again. I know they will.

It is equally compelling and infuriating.

My writer grows tired, and probably needs a break from my dictation now.

I do too.


¹ Current estimates point to a period of six whole weeks within the next decade. I will be well and truly spoiled by that balmy silence, if I live to hear it.

² I wish they had taught me not to stare at deific interventions when I was a child, much the same way they warn you not to look directly into the sun.

³ Through decades of study, I believe I have finally cracked the meaning of these words. In a crumbling registry of civil and criminal cases nearly seven centuries old, there are repeat instances of disturbance of the peace in a small, now nonexistent hamlet across the desert. The perpetrator was a figure known to many in the area- an old, generally harmless eccentric who was known to drift from conspiracy theory to theory with the changing of the seasons. Their last appearance in any documentation describes how their fellow citizens held a brief service in their honor after they died ranting and raving in a shelter. They fell from a rooftop while trying to kill birds for preying upon mantids and sustained blunt-force trauma to their head and neck, resulting in severe bruising and, as was discovered too late, internal bleeding. They died in obscurity, having totally and utterly failed to attract a flock of any size through their words of an approaching journey, with zero assistance from the divine patron that had apparently shattered their mind with Its touch.

Saturday, May 8, 2021

Again with the 1d6 Backgrounds for TROIKA! thing

You know how it works by now- I whip up another 6 backgrounds for TROIKA! while also plugging some of my old blog posts, and their removal from context in a wider and wackier universe (hopefully) creates amusement.

Here, here and here are my previous posts in the series, and here is where the next will be.




Ersuunian Raider

You followed your petulant bronze god-king to the ends of the world, and at some point your horse slipped and fell into another plane. Now you gallop the spheres to sate your greed and bellicosity, thinly veiled as a thirst for glory.

Possessions

  • Axe.
  • Bow and 8 Arrows.
  • Horse.
  • Lamellar Cuirass (Modest Armour).
  • Loot Sack.
  • A Thirst for Plunder.
Advanced Skills

3 Alcohol Consumption
2 Axe Fighting
1 Bow Fighting
1 Creative Insults
3 Intimidate
2 Ride

Special

As long as you can ply them with alcohol first, you can get any group of people to belief your greatly exaggerated tales of valor, prowess, and popularity among people of your preference. Anyone affected by these tall tales regards you fondly, but becomes very disenchanted with you after sobering up.


Fokari Yuum Herder

You are one of the scruffy desert folk of the Eastern Wastes. Your tribe is everything to you, and your dualistic cosmology of gods and spirits is everything else. You herd your strange-toed goats vast distances over the rock and sand, but you ride no horses, for they are servants of the Soil-Slaves and the dreaded Ersuunians.

Possessions

  • 1d6 Curds.
  • Clay Eagle Talisman.
  • Shepherd's Crook (Damage as Staff, +1 on rolls to handle small animals).
  • 2 Waterskins.
  • A Yuum Lamb.

Advanced Skills

2 Awareness
3 Herding
2 Run
1 Staff Fighting
1 Tracking

Special

You are a goat-whisperer. You can befriend just about any goat, sheep, ibex, or similar creature with 1 minute of exposure. They are always non-hostile unless you attack them, and you may be able to convince them to perform tricks or simple tasks. Horses don't seem to like you much, however.


Moksha Seeker

You are one of the crystalline tulpas born from the dreaming mind of an ascetic encased in a diamond mountain. You wander far, practicing compassion and self-effacement. Someday you will return home for the waking of the dreamer, and the resulting enlightenment and cessation of your people.

Possessions

  • Crystalline Fists (Damage as Staff).
  • Mendicant's Robe.
  • A copy of Meditations Upon the Adamant.

Advanced Skills

3 Astrology
2 Etiquette
4 Meditation
1 Spell - Peace

Special

You do not eat, sleep, or breathe, being made entirely of crystal. Additionally, you may perform astral projection while meditating, allowing you to visit the Adamant in spirit and learn the general goings-on in tulpa society.


Pach-Mih Canvasser

You are a proud, stocky citizen of the People's Anarcho-Syndicalist Communes of Pach-Pah Yul (PASCOPPY), a mountainous realm whose political landscape is defined by the centuries-old ideal of perpetual revolution and improvement. You walk with burning purpose from door to door, and pour your heart out over party and progress to any who will engage with you, voter or no. The latest campaign trail has taken you to far-off districts indeed.

Possessions

  • Far Too Many Shirt Pins
  • A Fistful of Revolutionary Pamphlets.
  • Weighty Labor Union Text (Damage as Shield).

Advanced Skills

3 Debate
2 Detect Aristocrats
2 Endurance
3 Political Theory

Special

Whether as earnest discourse or a bad-faith distraction, you may try to force someone into a debate on socioeconomics. The target must Test their Luck (or Skill for enemies) or be drawn into vigorous discussion with you for 1 hour. You must speak a language the target understands.


Sayauan Natator

You are one of the dauntless, teardrop-skulled raft-people of the River Kesh. Strange currents have taken you far from home, but you must remain vigorous and proud even at the darkest of depths.

Possessions

  • Air-Bladder.
  • Calipers taken as a trophy from a thoroughly trounced craniometrist.
  • Fillet Knife.
  • Fishing Spear.
  • Hydrodynamic Loincloth.

Advanced Skills

1 Boasting
3 Fishing
1 Scrimshaw
2 Spear Fighting
4 Swimming

Special

You can hold your breath for up to an hour unaided. You also always have general knowledge of where water currents originate and lead.


Serminite Rat Breeder

Whether for subsistence, science, or subterfuge, you raise rats in the hundreds. Resilient, pragmatic, and unexpectedly affectionate, they embody many ideals held dear by the city-state of Serminwurth, and by you personally. You've gone out in search of stock with which to raise a new breed.

Possessions

  • Bag of Rat Food.
  • Rat-Sized Earplugs (in case of pipers).
  • 3 Doses of Nambarish Pox Vaccine.
  • 2d6 Rats that tend to remain on your person.
  • Small But Comfortable Cage.

Advanced Skills

1 Awareness
1 Mathology
4 Rat Handling
3 Scavenge
2 Sneak

Special

If you are in possession of any number of rats, you can order them to move or retrieve as many nearby Small Items in view. If you possess at least 12 rats, you can order them to move or retrieve a single item worth 1 inventory slot.

Thursday, April 15, 2021

1d6 more Backgrounds for TROIKA!

Another d6 backgrounds for use with anything TROIKA!-esque, made with inspiration taken from posts and characters scattered across my blog, as well as a few ideas which haven't seen light... yet.

Here and here are my other backgrounds, and here is where the next will eventually be is.

Once I get to 36, I'll compile them into a full d66 table!

Would you believe it took me this long to get halfway because I hate transferring tables over to Blogger and fussing with them until they display just right? Let's try another method.




Awakened Crypt-Seeker

You couldn't even die right. Now you've gone and risen as a desiccated husk that can never, ever fully die. Black smoke pumps through your veins, and you see through the false eyes of an ornamental death mask. But you will stop at nothing to find the rest you seek.

Possessions

  • Empty Smoke Flask.
  • Funerary Mask revealing your origins.
  • Some poor sod's femur (Damage as Club).
  • A Woeful Errand.

Advanced Skills

1 in a Fighting Skill of your choice
1 Awareness
1 Healing
4 Pain Tolerance
3 Strength

Special

Your urge to crawl up inside of a nice sensory deprivation coffin and wait for the heat death of the universe--the Need--is powerful, sometimes all-consuming. Any charm spell or other mind-controlling effect on you lasts only half as long.


Denier

You renounced everything, even your name and your sense of independent arising, and became a red-robed mendicant. You wander wherever suffering is greatest, healing hurts and easing pain while scorning Najis and advertising your strange, nihilistic order by dint of your mere existence.

Possessions

  • Crimson Robes.
  • Healer's Kit.
  • Mendicant's Bowl.
  • Painkillers (4 Uses).

Advanced Skills

2 Begging
1 Etiquette
4 Healing
4 Secret Signs

Special

You have renounced all verbal and written forms of communication, but you can silently express yourself and even articulate complex ideas through a combination of signs, expressions, and body language. Magical silence has no effect on you.


Fokari Kha'en

Exile. Outlaw. Kinslayer. Kha'en. You have been banished from your tribe for transgressions against the laws of hobgoblins and gods both. With slashed cheeks and damned memory, you wander out into the wastes seeking fate under the distant, pitying gaze of the great Eagle.

Possessions

  • A Knife.
  • Intimidating Cheek Scars.
  • Splintering Tent-Pole or Tattered Pashdehm Tapestry or Small Bronze Brazier.
  • Waterskin.
  • Yuum Wool Coat (Light Armour).

Advanced Skills

1 Awareness
2 Intimidation
2 Knife Fighting
1 Run
2 Tracking
2 Trapping

Special

Your body is like a withered reed, bending but rarely breaking in the wind. You can survive in a quarter of the food and water that others need to live, and hot or cold environments don't harm you after a day of adjustment.


Holy/ Half-Holy of Yishel

You are a devotee of the godhead of truth and uncomfortable revelations. By delving into its unconscious mind, you can uncover the future before it has happened. Whether or not the full knowledge is worth your time or your customers' money is another matter, so charlatans abound in Yishel's service.

Possessions

  • Divination Set.
  • Fortune Teller's Tent.
  • Holy Symbol of Yishel (Magic 8-Ball).
  • Sign labeled "No Refunds" (Damage as Staff).
  • Tip jar.

Advanced Skills

2 Astrology
1 Disguise
2 Evaluate
3 Second Sight
2 Sleight of Hand
1 Sneak

Special

You may Test your Luck to ask for details of an event in the near future. You receive one piece of good news, and bad news, which both must now come to pass. You can choose to share one or both of these details with others.


Moon-Kith

Unlike the Lamplighters who reluctantly worship at the irradiated altar of pallite, you serve the wandering Moon in Her quest to peel back the darkness forever. Like a pinpoint of starlight you stand as a beacon of both hope and daring fashion sense.

Possessions

  • Crescent Moon Sword.
  • Full Moon Shield.
  • Star-Studded Robes like the night sky of old.
  • A Vial of Incandescent Water.

Advanced Skills

1 Acrobatics
2 Astrology
2 Craft Moonwater
1 Etiquette
1 Spell - Flash
1 Spell - Light
2 Sword Fighting
1 Strength

Special

By downing a vial of moonwater, your whole body and all of your possessions glow like a torch for up to 1 hour. While aglow, you are immune to magical darkness. Creatures made of shadow and darkness that try to touch you must Test their Skill or be shunted away as if by the Fear spell.


Pain-Taster of Najis

You are an accomplished priest of the godhead of healing and suffering. Life is pain, and therefore pain is the essence of life. You ensure that both abound in ample supply as you wander the spheres, blurring the line between torture and medicine with your unanesthetized yet highly effective ministrations.

Possessions

  • Bandages and Salt.
  • Degree in Medicine from the Sodality of the Blissful Scourging.
  • Holy Symbol of Najis (Scepter of Woven Human Skin and Hair).
  • Too Many Torture Implements.
  • Vestments of Knives and Needles.

Advanced Skills

2 Astrology
4 Healing
2 Intimidation
4 Mortuary Science
1 Spell - Skeletal Counsel

Special

You may determine a body's exact time and cause of death, as well as any notable medical conditions, by slicing off and sampling a small piece of it.