Hex Crawl 23 #271: The Road to Eryptos

Eleven hexes northwest, three north of Alakran.

  

Cutting through the waste, but with green watered fields within sight to the north, this is the first stretch of that thoroughfare simply known as the "road to Eryptos." The paving is not so grand and mighty as the cracked and tilted stones of the Road of Flowers which it pays tribute to. Because it is only packed gravel laced with melted tar, it has lasted longer and in better condition than the more ancient road. But nobody would think of resurfacing the great Nama'a, Road of Flowers - it is simply not done!

If on this stretch of road you meet someone coming from the south, where Mehershal's Caravanserai is close, or from the north, where a longer journey leads to Eryptos, let it be a man, spurring on a galloping donkey (unusual sight!) As he passes you, he leans over and whispers (d6):

1. "Shalmurra is pregnant!"

2. "The golden key is found!"

3. "Ennusat is dead!"

4. "Ikuppi-Adad says yes!"

5. "The red house burned last night!"

6. "Beware! Zuuthusu will betray you!"

As he gallops away he shouts "Tell that to Ugurnazir!" And if the party are heading to Eryptos, add "of the Street of Copper Plates!"

If the party do deliver the phrase to Ugurnazir in the Caravanserai or at home in Eryptos, he turns out to be (d6):

1. A ruffian with a large retinue of goons, who move to beat the bearer of the message senseless.

2. A quivering old man, who breaks down sobbing, and in the morning is found dead.

3. A wealthy merchant with a large entourage, who breaks out laughing and showers the bearer of news with gifts.

4. A nervous-looking young man, who throws a few gold pieces at the bearer, whispering, "You never saw me! You never gave me this news!" and flees the scene immediately.

5. A powerful, tall man with piercing eyes, who mutters "In that case..." and points to a neighboring house (Eryptos) or group of travelers (Caravanserai). "Ripa'a in Gesshed will give you a thousand gold pieces if you bring him the head of the oldest man in that house (caravan)."

6. A placid, self-satisfied tradesman, who blinks and asks, "Excuse me? What gibberish is that?"

The GM is invited to make up a rationale for the recipient's behavior, or to simply treat the phrase as some codeword in an inscrutable intrigue.

Paraphrase Third-Party Conversations

It's always an awkward moment in any role-playing game when the game master has to represent two, or worse more, non-player characters talking to each other. The exercise resembles nothing so much as young Danny's conversations with his own wagging finger in "The Shining." Using funny voices, the GM ekes out an extended scene while the players sit and watch.

But this is as destructive of the social nature of RPG as any paragraphs-long set-piece room description or boxed text would be. The point of the game is to construct a shared reality through interaction. Awareness that you, the GM or player, are entering into a monologue-as -dialogue should be a sharp signal to shift gears.

To what, exactly?

While some advise to skip such scenes entirely, I don't think it's possible or desirable. Instead, what I do now when I feel a sock-puppet play scene coming on is to paraphrase. That is, switch from this:

COURT WIZARD (bad Peter Lorre impression): Eeeuhh, my lady, what these adventurers propose is verrry reckless.
QUEEN (bad Renee Zellweger as Bridget Jones impression): But the bones of my forefathers are endangered if the rumors are true!
COURT WIZARD: They were placed there to watch over an ancient evil! Who knows what these bumbling louts will awaken?

To this:

YOU: The Queen supports your mission to rescue the bones in the tomb, but the wizard is agitated and warns her that you may disturb an ancient evil.

This leaves it open for the players to intervene and address either party, at which point a player-GM conversation can take place in character again.

Come to think of it, the goal of maximum interaction also suggests a light touch when describing scenes, but that'a topic for next time ...

She Wields the Powers of Narrativism

Work on my megadungeon project proceeds at a snail's pace but with frequent rewards. Here's my favorite NPC from a group of scheming remnants trapped in the upper works, Castle Amber-style.

Thelma, the Perpetual Student. Age: 31.
Level 3 Wizard (Narrativist), 5 HP. INT++, CON-, CHA-

Portrait: Jeff Preston

Thelma wandered here from her studies at a great and advanced academy, having heard about the strange situation in the castle from some visitors who managed to escape. As a philosopher she became a convert to Narrativism, the idea that almost everyone in the world is a secondary character in an elaborate fiction, with memories whose fallibility and vagueness betrays their false nature.

The Narrativist obsession is to identify point-of-view characters, people whose experience seems too vivid and fortunate to be true, and who may in fact assist in making contact with the Author through self-referential and meta-textual occurrences. Thelma thinks that Myrseau may be one such character, and is certain that she herself is but a secondary character, who will cease to exist once she leaves the fiction’s main setting, the Castle.

Of course, Thelma is ultimately correct, although wrong in the particulars. The characters she seeks belong to the players, and with enough exposure to their fortunes and ambitions, Thelma will eventually realize that the work she is in is not a novel, but a game. This may even lead her to develop a Narrativist heresy: that there is a Game Master who responds to the free will of multiple, self-narrating characters rather than ordaining their fates. On making this realization, she will decide to leave the castle, and never be heard from again, her meta-textual work done.

Thelma is an aloof and enigmatic character who sometimes gives the impression of being as detached from the concerns and intrigues of the Remnants as the players are. She once thought Imogen was the point of view character, but having seen her grow through adolescence, pities her as an obvious inversion of the fictional ingénue trope. Her philosophy gives her a certain ability similar to knowledge magic, with the following “spells” that she may cast, silently and without gesture, once each per day: hear internal monologue (ESP); interpret symbolism (Know Alignment); foreshadowing (Detect Evil); predict plot (Augury).

A Marked-Up Map

I'm much too kind to show the influence map the Band of Iron left behind in the northern lands. Let's just say that purple worm example in the last post was their doing. It ate a whole section of the town of Goran's Anvil, and the town elders know who was responsible. They also left mortal enemies in the town of Parmentell when they discovered the worm ivory scam, left a controversial legacy in Kaserolle, and oh yeah, the Onyx Sorceress wants to have a word with them about how they shamed one of her agents in Ironhoof.

Here's their much more respectable career in the South. (Ignore the animal lairs for now.)

Made with Hexographer Pro.

They started out in the village of Poynemara at the top, where they left roots (the white triangle) by settling a retired hireling, Adrem, there, and picking up a new henchwoman, Lintilla. Villages are easy when it comes to fame; the party got two stars pretty much by showing up and having those interactions.

Next stop was the small town of Famorgane, a trading post corrupted by fairy-fruit addiction and de facto ruled by the crime boss Anton. Their adventures there initially got the party two crosses at the top, as they somehow fell in Anton's good graces. But Famorgane became occupied by a holy army during the war with Faerie and Anton has fled, so the party only count on one star there, legacy of a public duel with one of Anton's henchmen.

The larger town of Lugho is a place the party has never been, but due to services rendered on behalf of the Duke and Hierarch of the place, they enjoy two forward slashes (beneficial deeds) and one cross of high-level influence.

Schiecchi is the city of the region. It's harder to get fame there, but due to some carousing and a noteworthy incident in which the party's hermit prophet impressed a rich woman with her generosity, they are on one star. They also have a connection with the influential white magician Ulena, hence the one cross.

Finally, they are undoubtedly in the bad books of the faerie lady of the Vernal House for stealing away her mesmerized bard lover. Perhaps there should be "X" 's on top for enmity instead of influence with the ruler? At any rate, the whole house will be talking about the raid for years to come, so three stars.

The passage of time, and normal social forces, can alter the ratings. For example, fame can spread to settlements of equal or lesser size. If they do something that gets them two stars in Schiecchi, Lugho will almost certainly hear of it.

Influence can also spread, following political lines. The famous deed against the interests of the Vernal House will certainly cause enmity among the House's allies, and may even gain the party good will among its enemies. This is what happened in the north, as the warlord Hugo became friendly to the party largely because they were causing so much havoc among his rivals.

And of course, if enough years pass, fickle fame will fade from memory; but the party's roots, influence and deeds will live longer.

Making a Mark on the Map

Players love their character sheets, the filling in, gearing up, gaining levels and skills and goodies. They also love maps, filling in the blank spaces of the unknown. But what if the map of a realm - like character sheets - also told a story of their gaining power, influence, and notoriety in the world?

Below is a fairly simple way to mark up the icons for cities, towns or strongholds on a map, that records what kind of legacy an adventuring party is leaving there. Here are the icons that can be written around the place's symbol on the map (shown here by a square):

Influence: This is the sway of the party with the powerful folk of the place.

• No crosses mean they have no pull, or are even sworn enemies. 
• One cross means they have an ally in at least one influential figure. 
• Two crosses mean the actual ruler of the place is friendly to them. 
• Three crosses mean the party actually rules the place, or at least can dictate to its rulers.

Fame: This is how widely known the party is in the place, by name and appearance.

• No star means they're unknown, except to a few they've interacted with. 
• One star means they have become known among a section of the people.
• Two stars mean they have become the talk of the town, at least for a while.
• Three stars mean they have left a lasting legend that will endure for many years to come.

Roots: This is their lasting connection with the place.

• No triangles means the party has no real investment there. 
• One triangle means a personal connection - maybe one of them comes from there, or they settled a retired henchman down in the place.
• Two triangles mean the party owns property there and visits at least once a year. 
• Three triangles mean the party spends at least two months a year there and takes an active part in its affairs.

Deeds: There can be up to three backward slashes representing deeds that are "bad" to the interests of the settlement or stronghold, which might actually be morally good, and up to three forward slashes representing deeds that are "good" to their interests. These deeds may or may not correspond to the party's Fame at large, but they should be known to someone. Some deeds may be controversial, earning both kinds of slashes according to whose interests they serve and undermine.

• One slash is a deed affecting the temporary interests of the place (for example, robbing a citizen's purse, or buying the bar out at every tavern in town).
• Two is a deed that leaves a permanent mark (for example, murdering or saving the life of a prominent citizen). 
• Three is an act that changes the place drastically forever, or saves it from an utter calamity (for example, causing a giant purple worm to rampage through a district, saving the city from the purple worm, or building and endowing an entire magical college there). 

I suspect that leaving their mark on the map of the world in this way can be so appealing to players that they would go out of their way to earn such "achievements," pulling outrageous stunts and displays, buying real estate, yanking the strings in court. And if  the game gets to the point of settling down and establishing a domain, it's very useful to see at a glance where your friends, roots, and enemies are.

Next post: An example from actual play.

Social Set Pieces in Campaigns

Although mapping and exploring and figuring and fighting are all lots of fun, the best campaigns also mix in a different kind of action in a less dangerous social setting. I've been doing this in all my campaigns, and noticing a spectrum of the kind of interludes I run. Most of them are heavily improvised with the help of various tables, player input, and off-the-cuff inventions. Many of them stem from the carousing and gourmandising rules, or from attempts to buy services or sell loot. Some are just generated as random encounters.

1. The expository set piece. Sometime's there's just sheer fun in kicking back and entertaining the players. You might play this out as the characters watching a religious ritual that explains a mythic story, a procession in which the major social forces in a city each represent themselves, an overheard gossip conversation between two washerwomen. In my Trossley campaign this role was played by the gourmandising feast of the henchman Cordoon. In the current Kaserolle epic I spent a good half hour relating the rhyming play performed by a troupe of traveling players that was commenting on the current action and giving intimations of connections to larger events ... somewhat inspired by Gene Wolfe's similar use of a theater troupe in the Book of the New Sun.
2. The interactive set piece. Here, there is more of a conversation, although the interaction is not exactly free; it follows set rules or is bound by an interrupting event. Your players might be wagering with the patrons on either side as they watch a horse race, conversing with the other passengers as a ferry barge glides past the main sights of a river city, discussing all the reasons why the long-winded merchant should buy their carpet for fifty silvers as he lists all the reasons why only forty will do. In Trossley the players had their individual questions for the lammasu Saheedra; in Kaserolle last week a gourmandising session turned into a feast at a cheese restaurant that alternated conversational opportunities with several NPCs and lavish descriptions of the courses of the meal.

In short, I find it good to have a structure of some kind for audiences and parties so that the players make every word count and the event doesn't drag or fade.

3. The fully gamified set piece. I hadn't really done anything like this before today in the Kaserolle campaign. It's a set piece where the players not only interact but take part with their own mini-game. Imagine a conversation over a card game, for example, gamed out with actual cards, where the NPC grow more generous or cranky as they win or lose. In Trossley a carousing attempt led to a short knife fight and an enemy made. This time I spiced up a carouse table with  ... well, I'll really have to wait for the photos to get to me to really do it justice. This was unbelievable, one of the best times I've ever had at the table and with the full input and cooperation of the players.

Does anyone else find room for set pieces in their campaigns? What kind of techniques do you use to keep them moving along?