Marvel Heroic RPG after-action report

I forgot, I never got to write up that after-action report for my Marvel Heroic RPG.

The characters were chosen some time earlier. Matt chose Cyclops, Chris chose Storm, and Alan chose Cannonball. So there we were, with Team "Team Leader."

To try out the system a little bit, we started with a Danger Room scenario: the team fighting ninja vampires on the rooftops of Neo-Tokyo. The players interacted in an interesting manner...seeing three team leaders interact was fun. XP were gained as a result of the small inter-party confrontations.

We started quickly picking up on how to manipulate the environment by dice rolls. I'd bought a big dry-erase board earlier that day, and jotted down valuable notes for everyone to see (what effects were in use, some stats for bad guys, that sort of thing). We found that keeping the board out there, and constantly writing out the effects we created for everyone to see helped.

We picked up with the mission: Cerebra picked up a new mutant coming into their powers somewhere in the midwest. The first part of the action started at a shopping mall, with a pit of darkforce growing in the floor. The group did a good job moving the civilians out of the area, disrupting the threat from the darkforce, and finding whomever was the cause. The run from the mall, with a young mutant in their arms, was troubles by a couple of black helicopters with anti-mutant folks at the guns. The choppers were defeated, and the new mutant was saved.

The players all picked up the narrative use of the dice quickly. There was only an occasional bit of prompting. If someone said they were attacking, I asked what effect they were looking for. This created a cool, action-filled set of scenes.

We had a transition scene, with the PC's meeting with the new mutant's parents. Storm went to give the "I understand you're going through a lot of changes," speech. Cannonball and Cyclops gave the, "We work at a really cool school...we even brought pamphlets," speech. It was a nice way to get the players to find their characters' voices.

No dice rolls in the transition scene. No one had taken any damage in the previous scene. It was cool, but in danger of going to far.

So, in come the Sentinels. And some Hellions. The fight was cool, with everyone pulling out the best opportunities to do cool stuff and create effects that stayed over the battlefield. Plot points were handed out, the Doom Pool was used to near exhaustion. Ultimately, the Sentinels were defeated, and the Hellions were sent running. The new young mutant agreed to go to Xavier's School, with the blessing from a very nervous, but appreciative, parents.

The dice rolling during combat was quick and loose. Thanks to Christine for having her laptop open, ready to confirm the rules we needed. The biggest wall we'd hit, I think, was how we were supposed to use our Plot Points, and how I was supposed to give them out.

More Castles and Crusades setting notes: religion and spirituality

Religion and Spirituality in Avignus

Although the average subjects of the King of Avignus may never see a spell cast, they are still well-aware of the existence of magic. Spell-casting wizards, druids and clerics are all visible and practice their trades out in the open. The knowledge of magic's existence and the uncertainty and fear of living in a land under constant threat of orc attack (and other more mundane, but just as serious threats) creates a superstitious outlook among the lower, less-educated classes. Myths and stories are just as important to the spirituality of Avignus subjects as the spells cast by high-wizards and chief priests.

Stories about actions of the gods and the creation of the world are more than mere myths. Wizards and clerics commune directly with the supernatural world, and, as a result, relate creation stories more like epic tales or recordings of ancient histories. Despite the opportunities for direct communion with spiritual beings, not all wizards or clerics are able to adequately or fully accurately translate the messages from these divine entities. Their understandings and interpretations of spiritual messages are gathered together among ancient prophecies and other revelations to help build religions texts for the people of Avignus.

Prophets and sooth-sayers have a special, trusted place in the Young Kingdoms. Anyone with the ability to interpret signs or portents from the divine or nature are expected to give guidance or assistance to the lost or those in need. Clerics and wizards are often taken as advisors to royalty or even local leaders. The inspect the skies or summon spirits for warnings about the future. Farmers far from civilization trust the advice of local druids about planting and harvest times, or example. Unscrupulous spiritualists who try to spread false prophecy are harshly punished.

Divine instruction, such as spiritual laws which are supposed to aid the growth and prosperity of civilization, are tended by the clergy. Meanings of signs and prophecies are seriously debated, with their potential value to civilization seriously considered. Some sages take a literal approach to the messages; they are not seriously considered as academicians, and potentially ruled by emotion. In recent times, more paladins have come from the more literal-interpretation sects of the church.

Creation myths and other divine messages carry a heavy weight in Avignus and the other Young Kingdoms. The creation stories themselves are treated like epic history, and not merely allegory or speculation. Not all of the prophecies or messages were simple to interpret, and many sages had different translations or interpretations of the creation stories. The most trusted and accepted translation of the creation of the world, and the will of the gods, was collected by the Imperial Archivist 2000 years ago. The collection, titled Logos, was the first formal recording of the stories and instructions in the history of the civilized world. Although many of these stories weren't at all new and were already well-known, the Archivist's text was the first fully-compiled, complete, trusted volume.

“It has always been, and it will always be.”

This is the first line of Logos, revealed to the Imperial Archivist. Its most commonly accepted meaning is that all of creation is infinite, with no true beginning and no true end. The life and times of all creation has always existed, and will always exist...as will man, his troubles, and his way of life. Some scholars claim that the real translation should be, “She has always been, and She shall always be.” These scholars believe that “She” refers to the life-giving and nurturing earth, and that mankind and its troubles are no concern, when considering the whole of creation. Many sages consider that interpretation based on mere artistic license, a result of a play with ancient language. There are no other references to “She” in the text of Logos, and they point out the lack of matriarchal religions or cults throughout imperial history¹. There is, though, a cult of scholars who believe “She” refers to the Conquorer Wurm, and ancient aspect and personification of cosmic, elemental Chaos.

Regardless of the phrase's meaning, most people take some comfort from it. Should everything they know pass away, some aspect of it will continue on.

That Which Endures

The creator-god is sometimes called Alef, or is represented in writing by the old runic first letter of the alphabet. Its also known as “That Which Endures.” Alef is thought to be without consciousness, but with a will. Alef is never personified; there are never icons or statues made to represent “his likeness.” Alef is that will which put order to chaos. The world was created by Alef imposing Will and Order.

Philosophers debate how it is possible to have Will without Consciousness or Self-Awareness. Some sages resign themselves to belief that order is a manifestation of the Will. Therefore, the Divine Will is simply one of the two natural conditions of the universe: Law and Chaos.

A very few fear that the Divine Will is merely a tool for a greater consciousness that cannot affect reality without some intermediary force. The Divine Will, then, is potentially a tool used by an entity that cannot have meaning in reality.

To some others, the Divine Will is a cosmic set of instructions, set in place by nature. Reality is woven in the nature of the Divine Will, and the universe cannot help but follow the path set forth in those instructions.

One thing scholars agree upon is that Alef does not answer prayer, does not have a conscius desire for worshipers or supplication. The desires and beliefs of the people of creation do not alter the course of the Divine Will. Alef is a spiritual monolith, respected but never supplicated.

The Innumerable Saints

Most people venerate, in some way, the saints of their ancestors. Some ancestors may be remembered for their crafting skills, their wisdom, their battle-prowess, or just for their personalities and influence. Living family members may venerate and celebrate their ancestral spirits for that aspect they remember and, by remembering, that spirit becomes associated as a type of household god representing that aspect. Ancestor worship is a very personal belief structure. A home is likely to have a shrine to their particular patron or patrons (an ancestor or ancestors the family remembers and has taken on as a symbol for their prosperity, strength, or courage). Small tokens representing the spirits would be carried, or left around the home. No temples or shrines would be built in public for these uniquely personal saints.

The spirits and divine entities that inhabit the world, who came as a result of the creation of Nature, are without number. Some answer to prayer, or to ritual. Some display godlike properties. They do not name themselves, or reveal their names (except in extraordinary circumstances), but take names from the people of the world. One entity may be known by a dozen names. Temples are built in their honor. Religious rites are perfected and designed to please them. Feast days are celebrated in their honor. The spirits answer prayers, grant powers, perform miracles, and are revered as gods.

No one has successfully counted the number of gods who are active in the world. So many take on different names and different aspects. A god known as a protector of travelers and roads to one tribe or culture may be known as a saint of thieves in another. The gods' mysterious natures keep their true natures somewhat secretive as well. The god a cleric reveres as a patron of growth and home may, as well, be a spirit of the harvest that a druid would revere. The god may be known by different names, even different aspects, and may well be the same spirit.

Religions in the Young Kingdoms also tend to have animistic tendencies. People acknowledge that there may be spirits of particular places or aspects. Though these lesser spirits may not be worshiped, they're acknowledged and revered, in the same manner as ancestral spirits.

This collection of saints, gods and magical spirits is collectively known as the Rolls Sable. The name is taken from a tradition held by the high priests of the empire, who attempted to collect the names and aspects of all the multitudinous gods and spirits. They were kept on a black scroll, penned with silver or gold ink. The scrolls were transported and stored at the Amber Tower, shortly after it was built.

1Neither the Anavaren of Avignus, nor the Witch Cult of Vinlund, nor the Sisterhood of Bretta of the Mistlands were ever acknowledged by churches nor the leadership of the empire. Imperial religious and social leaders expected such cults to simply die off quietly. They didn't.

Castles and Crusades: more setting design notes

I've been jotting down some notes for a campaign setting for Castles and Crusades. I wanted to do a traditional western-European feel...something familiar and easy to recognize.

In the present day, the Western Kingdoms represent the flowers grown from a fertile ground fed by the receding waters of a dying empire. The kingdoms of the south, known as the Amber Kingdoms, were once the homeland of a world-dominating empire. The empire only fell back six-hundred years ago, leaving Vinlund and Avignus to build their own governments and rule for themselves. Those two kingdoms, which became known with some of the nearby lands as “The Young Kingdoms,” have grown and flourished in the last six centuries (despite threats from the north and east).

The Young Kingdoms have moved away from the nurture and the traditions of the old empire in the same way children grow away from their parents. Although their civil, cultural and religious traditions have their foundations in ancient imperial traditions, they've grown to serve the unique needs of each people. All of the Young Kingdoms share some traits, like long-separated family members. Their languages all share a common root, which serves as a noticeable and tangible link between the three lands. Their societies, much like their architecture, are built on the remains of the old empire.

The most successful of the Young Kingdoms is Avignus, a fertile land with temperate winters, moderate summers, a long growing season, and hearty people. The folk of the eastern portion of the kingdom are a hearty lot, who have developed a love of epic poetry and music. They are the more spiritual than their western brethren. The people of the western kingdom are renowned for their horsemanship and their skill with mounted combat.

Vinlund, to the south, is a kingdom dominated by wine and magic. Farmers raise some of the greatest vines in the world, and local wineries create the most memorable wines. People are well-fed, with expansive farms. Every town has its own vintage of wine, and each claims theirs is the best. Their wizard-kings have ruled since before the fall of the empire. A high academy of magic is hidden deep in their mountains. The king's ghostly advisors, legend has it, travel the kingdom looking for practitioners of The Science (the kingdom's name for arcane magic).

The empire survives now as the fragmented “Amber Kingdoms.” The ancestral great families of the empire, in an effort of self-preservation, each carved out their own city-states or protectorates. Some tried to wage war on each other, in attempts to gain more territory or more resources, or even just to answer old family rivalries. Some still try to live as if the empire never crumbled. Their guards may well still wear old imperial armor and weapons; some subjects may still wear the garb of the ancient empire. Citizens of the Amber Kingdoms still tell stories of their families' ancient greatness, and sill reside in centuries-old estates. Vitare, the northern-most of the Amber Kingdoms, is considered the most “progressive.” They trade with the Young Kingdoms, receive ambassadors into the Imperial Court (and sends out ambassadors to the Young Kingdoms, as well), and claims not to take part in the in-fighting participated in by the other old imperial families. The king of Vitare (who still uses the title of “Emperor”) claims leadership over all of the Amber Kingdoms, though has no ability to collect taxes, raise armies, or truly rule over the subjects of the former empire.

The northern lands of Ecrus and Titus have only recently been split. In the days of the old empire, the land was simply known as The Northern Reach. Ecrus was the name the local “barbarians” gave to their homeland. These barbarians raided their neighbors for livestock, crops, and more valuable treasures. The empire tried, unsuccessfully, to invade Ecrus several times. The barbarians continuously fought back the invaders. Eventually, Ecrus was damaged from inside threats.

Orc and goblin tribes emerged from deep in the mountains. The ravaged the people of Ecrus, destroying settlements, capturing people, stealing whatever resources the barbarians of Ecrus had stored away. The orc and goblin raids mirrored the barbarians' in severity and technique. The Ecrusians fought back, struggling to keep their culture and people from being destroyed by the orcish threat. After a century of fighting, the orcs were driven back across the mountains; they took over the eastern portion of the lands. Amazingly enough, some tribes of Ecrusian people followed along, either following the hoards as slaves, of because they found a kinship among the orcs themselves. The barbarians of Ecrus maintained the western portion. The eastern lands were named Titus by the dying empire, reflecting the name of one of the many lands of the dead from their myths.

The Mistlands are the northeastern part of the Great Western Isle. Their great accomplishment, according to some, was in building trading relations with the people of Ecrus (after successfully fighting off the barbarians after years of attempted raids). The northern, hilly region is the only civilized settlement on the island (as a matter of fact, the empire once had an outpost on its shores). The rest of the island is dominated by the will of an ancient dragon, and scores of magical creatures under his control. There are legends about lost tribes of elves and other fey creatures who live there, and of ancient magics that protect the island.

No one has ever returned from the island that is off the Mistlands north shore.

The strip of land connecting the Young Kingdoms and the Amber Kingdoms are called, simply, the Lost Lands. Since the fall of the empire, these lands fell to depravity, infighting, and invaders from the east and from the great rift. They lost all stability once the empire left. Some of the central lands, once called Tiranic, reverted to an almost barbaric state, ruled and controlled by tribal elders and fighting off other clans. In the southern province of Molloy, the dead rose and enslaved the living. The northern region, once called Deiteramund, has become dominated by the rift, which had begun spilling out Abyss-spawned creatures once the Amber Tower was erected in the heart of the empire.

None of those lands were particularly stable to begin with, truth be told. Tiranic was only ever stable because of the leadership and influence of the empire. Molloy's un-dead hid in their tombs, hills and forests for centuries, waiting for their time to strike. The rift had always existed in Deiteramund, and so had the portals deep in its depths. Without the empire's magic or governance, these lands were ultimately doomed.

East of the Lost Lands are vast mountain ranges, and a land dominated by desert. Its there that the King of Avignus leads a crusade against the Goblyn Queen. There is very little to report about the lands there, their people, or their cultures.

Best D&D game ever!

My son and I often pull out my D&D or Star Wars minis and play a little game. We play a skirmish-style Star Wars game, where one of us gets clones, or stormtroopers, or droids, or Rebel troopers, plus a couple of heroes. The object of the game is to get to a particular door, or blow up a console, or destroy the attackers. If we pull out the D&D minis, we play a quick little dungeon-crawl, no more than 3 or four rooms, and my boy gets to beat on some goblins or skeletons, or whatever monsters strike his fancy at that moment.

Today, we tried something a little different. I pulled out the Microlite D20 rules, had him create a character, and we played a little more sincerely. The adventure began with an old wizard coming to the home of his character ("Knight Smith"), asking for help to recover a crystal ball from an old castle. What happened next was gaming gold.

I described the approach to an old, ruined castle; there was a drawbridge, a dry moat, and an open doorway to the castle. I described a gnoll ("dog-man") sitting just beyond the doorway, eating soup at a ramshackle table, with an axe at his feet. My son told me his character would talk to him, asking him if he knew where the crystal ball was. He and the gnoll talked for a little while and, once the gnoll was convinced that my son's character wouldn't try to fight him, led him to the door to the dungeon. The gonll even offered some useful advice..."The goblins downstairs aren't really bright." My son thanked him and moved on.

One trapped hallway later (my son's character got through it by going back up and asking the gnoll if he was good at tripping traps), he made his way to a door. He heard goblins beyond. His solution to the problem...style:italic;">go back to town and get help!

Smart kid, this one.

One hired-gun cleric added to the party, and they went back into the dungeon. My kid's plan...knock on the door to the goblin lair and tell them, "Hey, we're a couple of goblins looking to join up!"

Once the goblins let them in...my we put down the minis and drew the dungeon on the battle-map. Things went really smoothly...the kid took well to the Microlite rules :)

Later in the game, the boy's character and his cleric-helper encountered the Goblin Chieftan and his bodyguards. Nearby was the magical crystal ball. The boy's plan went flawlessly: knock out the chieftain, and then declare to the bodyguards: "Your chief has been defeated! Give us the crystal ball, and we spare the rest of you!" he also made a proposal to them: let him leave, and promise never to attack the village, the the goblins could live in the abandoned castle. On top of that, he would tell the cleric to heal all the goblins that had been defeated!

So, by the time we were finished, the boy's character had made allies of a gnoll, added a cleric to his adventuring party, recovered a magical artifact, and gave a home to a tribe of goblins.

Eight years old, this kid.

Microlite D20: http://microlite20.net/

My first Warhammer session

We had our first Warhammer Fantasy Roleplaying Game session this past Sunday. It felt like it was a complete success! It was a new system for all of us. Only one player had a strong background in the Warhammer setting. One did some research beforehand, and jotted down a one-page character biography (something I didn't expect, but it gave her a good starting point).

I was most impressed that three of the four players opted to use the random generation method to choose careers. As such, we have an Apprentice Wizard, Fisherman, Pit Fighter, and Entertainer (that player chose her career). I discussed the setting, mood and rules. Within a couple of hours, we were ready for a short combat to try out the rules system.

An hour and six dead goblins later, we were ready to play. This was a surprise to me...I expected character creation and the trial combat to take the whole night.

I gave some background to the setting (see my previous post), and started the adventure. There was a riotous mob, accusations of witchcraft, dark magic, and a battle with a beastman.

I was actually left drained. The entire week before, I'd been eating, breathing and drinking Warhammer. I read the rulebook cover-to-cover, and received the Old World Armory and Sigmar's Heirs (the guide to the Empre) Saturday. I'm still coming down from the day. Its difficult to even prep for my D&D game this coming Sunday. This stuff just gets under your skin, you know?

The Challenge of Higher Levels (a topic I'll probably return to again and again)

I'm running a D&D game with some friends right now, and they've made it up to 12th/13th level. One player told me he doesn't care for higher-level games of D&D, and claimed that at those power levels, each encounter is either an absolute victory or an absolute failure; you're either well-prepared to handle that challenge rating of an encounter or you're not. I thought about that a little bit, and considered how I create encounters for my higher level games.

I don't believe that, at higher levels, an encounter is any more an absolute victory or absolute failure any more than at lower levels. But then again, many of my encoutners aren't the traditional D&D kick-in-the-door, deal-with-the-monster encounters. Here are a few things I do to mix up my encounters, to make even slightly lower-level creatures a higher-level threat:

1: I'll play with the battlefield. A dungeon encounter may include traps along with the monster, blockades, or nuisances that can slowly deplete characters' resources while in a combat. for outdoor encoutners, I'll use buildings, foliage, and geographical features to augment the creatures' abilities.

I had one encounter that spanned the interior and exterior of a run-down inn, which included, if I remember correctly, 2 ogres, a goblin sorceror. The sorceror hassled PC's left in the inn, used cover, and threw spells outside to PC's combatting the bigger guys. The ogres were steamrollers, destroying any cover the PC's were using.

2: Social combat always makes things interesting. Obvioulsy, not every encoutner has to be combat-oriented. We've had one session that was just the players negotiating with a dragon NPC, and making it out safely (with tons of information relating to storyline in the campaign). Some levels of social interaction tend to spice up encounters that are even 'destined" to become combat encounters. They keep all the players' attention, and still give the opportunity to use characters' skills and other resources.

3: The stakes get bigger. Lets face it: in D&D, fear of character death isn't a terribly huge motivation. There are too many opportunities for Raise Dead-style spells. Once the players begin to care abou the campaign world, though, any threats to the world itself become a bigger motivator for the game. The trick is, getting the players to care.

That's always the tricky part. I'm lucky that, as of right now, I have players that do have their characters care about their campaign world. When they don't, then its back to some old-school GM tricks: they probably care more about their treasure. So its time to undertake quests to remove curses from their magic items, etc.

None of this is new or revolutionary. Everybody who has played or GM'ed in a RPG has figured alot of these techniques out. I find it interesting, though, how much you have to remind yourself about them for D&D. Its like they're easy to forget, once you start mapping a dungeon or rolling on the treasure tables. The trick is to not let them go, I reckon.

Game design inspired by my players

I had a good game yesterday evening with my every-other-Sunday-its-kind-of-like-Star-Wars-RPG-but-not-really group. Better than half of the group requested I run Star Wars again (we'd just ended a really good year-long campaign), so I made some notes, threw together a custom setting, and decided how I wanted to run the game.

I asked the group what style they wanted to play. They aren't much for thrilling heroics, nor for a military-style game, but really enjoyed the underworld/criminal elements I put in the last campaign. They said they wanted the style to be a little more Bourne Identity and a little less swashbuckler-ly.

So, I cheated, They think they're playing Star Wars. They're really playing Cyberpunk.

I let them in on the secret when we sat down for our character creation session...that I was burned-out on Star Wars for the time being, and when I do SW, I really love running games in the Rebellion era. So, to spice things up a bit, I made the campaign setting a little grittier, a little tougher, and a little more remote.

The first thing I did, once I decided on the feel of the campaign, was write up a couple of pages of setting notes for the group. I mailed them out to everyone a week before the character creation session. The setting is very remote (compared to other locales in the Star Wars universe), and doesn't do much "business" with the Republic (I'm setting the game a couple of hundred years before Episode 1). To my surprise, everyone created characters from the remote setting, and didn't have them have much contact with the rest of the Republic. I took this as an approval of not only my setting, but an acknowledgment that this wasn't going to be your traditional Star Wars RPG.

I've discovered a few elements that really make my recent campaigns any type of success:

1: Character creation sessions happen before any dice hit the table. These are just plain necessary now. Everyone creates characters together, sharing ideas off one another, creating back-stories off one another, and sharing in kind of a story-creating process. I've found that people are much more willing to share roles and even be a little more revolutionary as to how different roles are portrayed when they get to create everything together.

2: Player input to the types of campaign we should run is necessary. There's nothing worse than when the group thinks the game is going to be run one way, and you're thinking something totally different. This has been my bane as a GM for two decades. I have my image as to what the campaign should feel like, but then so do the players. If everyone isn't on the same page, then the campaign is doomed to failure. I've played and run alot of mood-oriented games (Cyberpunk, Vampire: the Masquerade, for example) that suffered because my image of the campaign setting wasn't near the players' expectations.

So now, I make a point of sitting with the players and asking what kind of setting they're expecting. I share what I want to portray, they share what they want to interact with. The end result is a collaborative setting in which the players feel much more invested.

3: Campaign documents help the players and GM keep the focus of the campaign. Every game I run now has some type of documentation, even if its just a one-page handout. I give some notes about the setting, list some house rules, provide pictures, maps, or diagrams where necessary, mention notable NPC's, and usually describe anything notable about the character creation process. I've found that putting something of a "mission statement" in helps really solidify the campaign. If I'm having trouble focusing on what kind of adventures to create, the mission statement and campaign doc helps keep me in the right direction.

For example, I run a small D&D campaign. I decided, when first creating it, I wanted to have a retro, classic, 1st Edition D&D feel. When I find that the plot is getting too convoluted, or my dungeon design is getting too weird, I remember that I'd said from the beginning that the campaign was supposed to feel "classic." This keeps me designing things with that "classic" influence.

None of these things are really revolutionary. Some of them, though, had to be taught to me (thanks, Eldrich, for the suggestion of "themed parties," that inspired me to have character creation sessions). Some came because if I didn't evolve, I'd never really be happy running a game again.

I keep these elements in mind while I design my own new game system. I'd like to incorporate, into the rules, character creation as a group activity (Spirit of the Century does this remarkably well). I'm thinking about designing campaign creation checklists and documents to help shape groups and campaign settings. Part of the design philosophy behind the settng and rules is based on cooperative storytelling.

A practical application for right now, too: I have an old-west game coming up soon; I'll likely use the Aces and Eights system (its all different kinds of cool), but Deadlands is speaking to me, too. To help me decide, I'm going to throw together some notes, and present them to my potential players, and maybe we can decide together.