As the last couple posts have hinted, my z20 project has been quietly resurrected, despite earlier posts suggesting this is a doomed endeavor. I started wondering at this--where did z20 come from? How did I get here, and where do I think I'm going?
However, in digging for the answer, I found that z20 is intricately tied to the history of Zludge. Pouring through my archive of Sent email messages to S. and B., I was able to reconstruct the following chronology:
Jun 2007: I become intrigued by Fudge and Fate 2.0 (effectively a specific flavor of Fudge). Fudge in particular is filled with good ideas, but in a very "...and here's another good idea" style, leaving the GM to roll these ideas into his own perfect system. I start my own Fudge derivative named Zludge: a mixture of Fudge, Fate, d20, and GURPS ideas.
Jul 2007: I finish an early version of Zludge largely shaped for a sci-fi campaign (including psi rules, for example), though still intending to be a largely universal system.
Dec 2007: After repeatedly being frustrated by the slow rate of D&D combat--particularly the modifier tracking and rule details--I consider a possible simplification project. Zludge comes to mind as a base, and so I begin a document to blend Zludge and d20.
Feb 2008: The Zludge-d20 project grows beyond a simple hack document and becomes its own system: Drudge.
Mar 2008: After playing around with Animal Ball's Instant Game, one day S. and I just sit down and play a rules-lite system I come up with in an hour based on bare-bones Zludge. Originally named Fluff, this soon becomes Fluffy.
There are now three flavors of Zludge going: the lite Fluffy, the original Zludge (which I start calling Zludge Prime), and the relatively rules-heavy Drudge. The idea comes to make Zludge a roll-your-own system. However, instead of just being a jumble of ideas, it would be a system of clearly-defined, compatible modules. GMs could define a "zenome" document for their particular instance of Zludge that would specify which rule modules they are using. Thus, the rules could be lite or heavy depending on GM preference or the particular campaign. Furthermore, when I found a good mechanic idea in another system, I could port that single idea into the framework of Zludge, thus being able to experiment with small pieces here and there while still keeping the bulk of my gaming system constant.
I begin surfing more and more RPG test drive rules and indie RPG system for neat ideas.
Apr 2008: I start this blog, whose name is even inspired by Zludge.
Jul 2008: Fluffy (and its basically synonymous incarnation Huffy) sees some action on a long car trip with B. in a Heavy Metal Atomic Wasteland campaign setting. (Sadly, this never got documented properly here on SludgePit.)
May 2009: After 18 months of work (not 15), I call an end to Drudge. Essentially, Drudge had wandered too far from d20 to be at all useful. It would have been easier and faster to just completely reimagine the d20 content in a Zludge system. Intrigued by True20, I instead consider a d20-True20 blending named z20.
Jun 2009: I essentially realize the differences between True20 and d20 are too minor to be bothering with a synthesis. In short, I'm simply bastardizing d20 without significant advantage. I decide to end z20 in favor of d20house, which is just a handful of house rules for d20 and an digital DM's screen to speed play.
Aug 2009: I discover Microlite20. This is d20 streamlined! I think my own strength is streamlining--making simpler rules that are still effectively equivalent to the source. But I suck at actually trimming and drastically cutting away the fat (and even some of the meat, if necessary). Microlite provides the core I've been looking for.
However, there are a number of things I don't like. For instance, the core rules are so lite and streamlined, but the equipment lists are so long and detailed, spells are still straight from d20 (and so too detail-oriented), translated monsters have no special abilities at all--essentially just attack bonuses, AC, and hit points. In short, it feels like a hodge-podge.
I start pulling Microlite20 into a single document and tweaking what I don't like. Of course, I find myself adding a lot of old Drudge ideas, etc. It grows beyond the Microlite core, so I call it mini20.
Sept 2009: mini20 has stopped being even "mini". But it seems to also be close to my original goal way back with Drudge: a lite version of d20. In short, its the d20 that I always wanted to play. I resurrect the name z20.
So that's how I got here. As to where I'm going... maybe in another post soon I'll talk about some of the things I proud of in z20, and see if I can ever answer that still-haunting question: "Why convert or change d20 in the first place? Why not just play d20 as is, or else start a new system from scratch?"
Showing posts with label fluffy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fluffy. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Fluffy: Alpha-testing notes 1
The recent God's Dogs game went pretty well. Observations:
- Combat can be pretty deadly when damage is based on degree of success: one good blow and it's all over. (While not actually physical combat, the contest of wills with Castigation is basically the same mechanic.) So maybe tone back how DoS determines damage? (At least with the static defense factor mechanic I'm currently considering, ordinary combat will only have a 3dF range of variability, rather than 6dF, which will limit the possible DoS.) I'm going to wait to decide on this though, because actually the only combat was of +2 vs -1, so it should not be surprising that 3 dmg was dealt. I perhaps should have made the demon a 0, rather than -1....
- There are surprisingly few rolls with this kind of story-based roleplaying. It's weird after coming off D&D, where the object is to get into the next battle so you can start rolling again. Half the rolls didn't really need any variation on them. Checking is certainly a good idea (and one I need to get more comfortable with as GM--but it's just so exciting to hit a chance to roll!), and I wouldn't mind eventually trying fully diceless.
- The skill set was pretty good--even in only the few rolls made, it was a pretty evenly used: Speed, Will, Social, Magic, Knowledge.
- What I still see a strong need for is some roleplaying character aids. The "Extras" section of Fluffy is still unwritten. What I'd like to see here is a more objective and point-based way to earn plot points. I'm going to have a closer look at Fate 3.0/Spirit of the Century's aspects and True20's Blue Rose's conviction mechanic.
- I need to get God's Dogs and Fluffy finished so I really know how the magic and combat systems work!
- Fluffy certainly needs more testing.
Monday, June 8, 2009
Fluffy: God's Dogs (B; vol 1)
About a month ago (early May), B. and I talked about reviving his world of Tor-Lomlin using a different rule system. Fluffy seemed like a possibility, so I've been doing some overhauling and clarifying of the system. (I hadn't really touched it in over a year.) I also created the God's Dogs setting for some alpha-testing gameplay. (Both Fluffy and God's Dogs should hopefully be publicly posted soon.) Here's how our first game today went down:
B's character is Patrick Callahan, a young farmer-turned-friar working for the demon-hunting Order of the Holy Faith in early 17th century Ireland. Patrick's immediate superior, Father Havishant, has received a letter forwarded from a friend of his (Father O'Malley). This letter, originally penned by a young priest named Sean O'Keegan, comes from the remote French Isles of Galleon in the south Atlantic. O'Keegan believes a man in his congregation there has been possessed by a demon and seeks advice or aid. Since his prize student Finnegan is otherwise engaged, Havishant decides to send Patrick to deal with the case, as Havishant believes he's ready to handle a simple, contained case like this one.
Booking passage aboard the Sanguine Tide, Patrick arrives at the main village of San Galleon. Like a tarnished bauble, the Isles of Galleon have been passed back and forth between the powers of Europe: discovered by the Portuguese, conquered by the Spanish, a hideout for English pirates, and currently claimed by the French. The barren crags of the isles have collected various settlers like so much driftwood left behind by these successive waves of Europeans.
The Tide drops anchor in the harbor. Once ashore, Patrick pauses to chat up the harbor master, learning a bit about the recent winter storms and the girl (Maria Luz) that stands at the end of the seawall, awaiting in vain for the return of her fisherman beau. Patrick then continues through town to the church with his letter of introduction to the local parish priest: Padre Joachim del Gabana. Patrick meets the young O'Keegan at the church, who leads him to the back courtyard to del Gabana's small but well-appointed home.
Though oddly impressed by Patrick, the Padre insists that no demons infest his parish. The case is not supernatural. Rather, a farmer--prideful and a bit isolated--was driven to drink and madness by a series of misfortunes, culminating in the murder of his wife. Though usually not so extreme, cases of such seasonal madness is not unheard of during the bleak winter months in tiny, isolated Galleon. It is clear from the looks del Gabana gives O'Keegan that the two have debated the issue before, and the Padre is not happy his underling has now involved others in the case.
Patrick still requests to see the farmer (Allahn). So after a short repast, he, O'Keegan, and del Gabana head to the French military outpost, where Commissionaire Jacques Du Font sends a private with them to unlock one of the stone storage sheds out back. Within, Allahn lies bound and shackled, wearing a strange dented metal plate strapped to his forehead. The function of this plate becomes obvious when he begins to mutter and smash and scrape his forehead against the wall.
Patrick, in a moment of keen insight, notices some subtle presence behind the blurred eyes of the inmate. Patrick questions the man, who only mutters such nonsense as "he cometh he cometh he cometh..." O'Keegan admits he has also spoken the name of Azabel in the past--which is not the name of anyone in town. The name of a demon perhaps, but not one Patrick is familiar with.
In a rather sudden moment of clarity, Allahn begins to complain of the pain in his head, of the burning on his brow, claiming that the two priest have come to torture him in the past. Requesting the assistance of his two companions, Patrick removes the protective device, revealing a rune of Binding bloodily etched onto the man's forehead. O'Keegan guiltily admits that he did this--a tip given to him in the past by Father O'Malley for cases of suspected demons possession. Allahn suddenly manages to roll free of the men and struggles to scrape away the skin of his forehead against the rough stone of the shed walls. Patrick hastily sketches a Circle of Exorcism, which succeeds easily as the rune of Binding is scraped away: a black mist rises from Allahn, assuming an short, twisted gobliny form with glowing red eyes. While the other two men step back in hesitation, Patrick leaps forward, shouting the Litany of Castigation and thrusting his glowing hand into the demonic form. The Castigation is extreme: the form explodes with a scream into wispy tendrils, which quickly disperse.
Allahn is largely comatose. Patrick calls for the military doctor and has Allahn moved to a different cell for observation. O'Keegan's eyes sparkle from the excitement and the vindicating proof of demon possession; Padre del Gabana is subdued, apparently deeply disturbed by the presence of such tangible evil among members of his flock.
B's character is Patrick Callahan, a young farmer-turned-friar working for the demon-hunting Order of the Holy Faith in early 17th century Ireland. Patrick's immediate superior, Father Havishant, has received a letter forwarded from a friend of his (Father O'Malley). This letter, originally penned by a young priest named Sean O'Keegan, comes from the remote French Isles of Galleon in the south Atlantic. O'Keegan believes a man in his congregation there has been possessed by a demon and seeks advice or aid. Since his prize student Finnegan is otherwise engaged, Havishant decides to send Patrick to deal with the case, as Havishant believes he's ready to handle a simple, contained case like this one.
Booking passage aboard the Sanguine Tide, Patrick arrives at the main village of San Galleon. Like a tarnished bauble, the Isles of Galleon have been passed back and forth between the powers of Europe: discovered by the Portuguese, conquered by the Spanish, a hideout for English pirates, and currently claimed by the French. The barren crags of the isles have collected various settlers like so much driftwood left behind by these successive waves of Europeans.
The Tide drops anchor in the harbor. Once ashore, Patrick pauses to chat up the harbor master, learning a bit about the recent winter storms and the girl (Maria Luz) that stands at the end of the seawall, awaiting in vain for the return of her fisherman beau. Patrick then continues through town to the church with his letter of introduction to the local parish priest: Padre Joachim del Gabana. Patrick meets the young O'Keegan at the church, who leads him to the back courtyard to del Gabana's small but well-appointed home.
Though oddly impressed by Patrick, the Padre insists that no demons infest his parish. The case is not supernatural. Rather, a farmer--prideful and a bit isolated--was driven to drink and madness by a series of misfortunes, culminating in the murder of his wife. Though usually not so extreme, cases of such seasonal madness is not unheard of during the bleak winter months in tiny, isolated Galleon. It is clear from the looks del Gabana gives O'Keegan that the two have debated the issue before, and the Padre is not happy his underling has now involved others in the case.
Patrick still requests to see the farmer (Allahn). So after a short repast, he, O'Keegan, and del Gabana head to the French military outpost, where Commissionaire Jacques Du Font sends a private with them to unlock one of the stone storage sheds out back. Within, Allahn lies bound and shackled, wearing a strange dented metal plate strapped to his forehead. The function of this plate becomes obvious when he begins to mutter and smash and scrape his forehead against the wall.
Patrick, in a moment of keen insight, notices some subtle presence behind the blurred eyes of the inmate. Patrick questions the man, who only mutters such nonsense as "he cometh he cometh he cometh..." O'Keegan admits he has also spoken the name of Azabel in the past--which is not the name of anyone in town. The name of a demon perhaps, but not one Patrick is familiar with.
In a rather sudden moment of clarity, Allahn begins to complain of the pain in his head, of the burning on his brow, claiming that the two priest have come to torture him in the past. Requesting the assistance of his two companions, Patrick removes the protective device, revealing a rune of Binding bloodily etched onto the man's forehead. O'Keegan guiltily admits that he did this--a tip given to him in the past by Father O'Malley for cases of suspected demons possession. Allahn suddenly manages to roll free of the men and struggles to scrape away the skin of his forehead against the rough stone of the shed walls. Patrick hastily sketches a Circle of Exorcism, which succeeds easily as the rune of Binding is scraped away: a black mist rises from Allahn, assuming an short, twisted gobliny form with glowing red eyes. While the other two men step back in hesitation, Patrick leaps forward, shouting the Litany of Castigation and thrusting his glowing hand into the demonic form. The Castigation is extreme: the form explodes with a scream into wispy tendrils, which quickly disperse.
Allahn is largely comatose. Patrick calls for the military doctor and has Allahn moved to a different cell for observation. O'Keegan's eyes sparkle from the excitement and the vindicating proof of demon possession; Padre del Gabana is subdued, apparently deeply disturbed by the presence of such tangible evil among members of his flock.
Monday, July 7, 2008
Dynamo/Fluffy: Lily and Will
Last weekend, S. and I tried out Dynamo, which is a mechanic I've been working on for co-GMing. It's still rather tenuous at the moment, but we tried alpha testing it anyway.
For the gaming system, we used Fluffy, which also needs some testing.
Dynamo (pre-game): On Saturday, while strolling around town, we hashed out the general setting, which was basically film noir, but with slightly updated fashion and Hong Kong action style gunfights and vaguely Lovecraft-like occult powers at work in the background.
On Sunday, we came up with a list of motifs: scenes and elements that captured our desired genre and tone. Our list:
-obscure dying last words
-"damsel" in distress
-all a lie?
-PI gets roughed up
-PI gets dragged in by the cops
-PI offered a bribe
+a dusty, ominous tome
-connection to the decadent element and/or seedier part of town
-tangible evidence of evil (but evidence lost by end of tale)
+a disturbing figurine
+a shoot out
-the good bad guy
+betrayal
-no penalty for shooting a pistol in each hand
-an extra gun somewhere
The +s are those motifs we've used so far (see below). The last couple are almost aspect-like--an idea I want to work on more. It'd be nice to have "themes": general/story aspects you could invoke for a plot point. So, here, any character could spend a plot point to fire two guns without a penalty or to whip out another gun.
Fluffy (char creation): +6 attribute points to spend across 8 attributes. 1 attribute point can be traded in for 4 skill points. A skill or attribute can be reduced to raise another. Later, once the game has started, you can spend a plot point to add a rank in an unbought skill (+1) or to add quirk/hook and invoke it. (We haven't used this last rule yet though.)
LILY McNESSA (S.'s character)
Combat +2
Health: +1
STR: +0
DEX: +1
PERC: +0
KNOW: +0
APPL: +2
SOC: +0
[S.'s didn't bother buying specific skills.]
--Honor (sees things through)
--Doesn't smoke or drink, but has a Tootsie-Pop addiction.
--Weirdness/occult magnet.
Equipment: Beretta, boots, switch-blade, pentacle.
Background: Boxing gym father (died of heart-attack). Catholic maternal grandmother. Apprenticed to a detective, who was bumped off and she had to solve the case of his murder. Owns her own agency now.
WILL STANTON (my character)
Combat: +1 (Guns +3, Brawling -1, Defense +1)
Health: +1
STR: +0
DEX: +0
PERC: +0 (Taste/smell +1)
KNOW: +2 (Occult +4, Languages +3)
APPLIED: +0 (Forgery/docs +1)
SOCIAL: +0 (Disguise +2, Read Person +1)
[1 extra skill point left, which converts to an extra plot point.]
Quirks/Hooks:
--Not respected in occult field (too young; methods too hands-on)
--Needs glasses to read
--Protector of innocent
Equipment: pistol (auto) in shoulder holster, derringer.
Background: Works as office clerk for Lily, both to pay the bills and because occult occurrences seem to follow her.
Dynamo (the game): We then came up with an initial conflict/inciting incident: a job to recover a strange box. This quickly turned into the first scene, with S. taking the lead in narration.
We didn't pause to do the story sketching phase of Dynamo: determine possible conclusion(s) and map out a few NPCs and waypoint scenes along the way. It seemed obvious at first: the story ends when we solve the case. But, though it seems like it might have taken some of the mystery out of things, having a few waypoints added to the motif and character hooks list probably would have helped. Doing so still would have left all the specific details that need to be adlibbed.
We then traded the limelight/narrative control (represented by a large silver coin) after each scene. Scenes seemed to be naturally delimit themselves, and generally corresponded with locations (as I suspected they would).
Here's how the story progressed:
Stolen item job: box, with gold corners and inlay. [S]
--Client: officious/fastidious business man, paying 3x normal rate
--Stolen by hood/crime lord: Citizen Frank Valenti
--Lily knows one of Frank's men from father's gym: Rocko.
Go see Rocko [Z]
--Uncooperative; knows nothing of Frank's "ivory" interests
--Fresh pink scars on hands
--Suggests we talk to Richard Ontario, Frank's art dealer
Break into R.O.'s office [Z]
--Past the lobby security guard by using fire escape
--Odd shrunken head in desk drawer
--Frank's file of purchased: mummified infant+cat, cabinet of curiosities, grotesque Venus-like statue, death-mask of Mata Hari.
--Current file: large cargo (6'x6'x4') coming in from Ivory Coast.
--Invite to Frank's party.
About this point, we took a break. This was tiring work coming up with the whole story on the fly.
Dynamo discoveries: GMs probably won't want to keep the limelight, as I first thought--it's a lot of pressure. And so it should probably regularly pass back and forth in turn (unless someone wants to pay to keep it).
Also, there's probably no need to spend plot points to contribute to the story as a player. The narrating GM should still be able to deny a contribution, but we found that any input was welcome, as the narrating GM was usually willing to grasp at any straw. S. did a great job of contribution, producing most of the items in Frank's file of purchased artifacts. She also was always conscious of placing a good solid lead into the next scene, providing both the connection to Rocko and the party invite. Overall, we largely ignored the exchange of plot point chips in relation to narration control.
The incorporation mechanic worked well. For example, in the Rocko scene, I threw in the "ivory" comment and Rocko's scars in the hopes that this would come to mean something later. "ivory" became "Ivory Coast" in the next scene, and S. built on it again later (see below). This is now becoming a clear thread.
The original idea was to work in a motif whenever possible in order to earn a plot point. However, S. suggested placing the motifs into a hat and drawing one out each scene and then having to work it in. We ended up rolling a die to pick randomly--but with the same result. This was a good idea, as the added constraint actually made scene construction easier, rather than harder.
After our break, we returned to the game:
To Frank's party [S]
--Check out his museum, seeing most of his artifacts.
--See box... but Frank walks in with Rocko [betrayed!]
--Escorted out, back to party
Rival gang arrives (Oscar Calzone) and start shooting up the place [shoot out] [Z]
--Dash back to museum room in confusion [S.'s contribution]
Museum room again [S]
--Box is gone... but do find a [dusty tome]
--Will recognizes it as containing African hieroglyphs, from Ivory Coast region.
--Slip out the French windows with book while shootout rages and alarms blare.
Fluffy discoveries: We never actually rolled the dice during the whole session. I almost asked for a roll to pick the lock of R.O.'s office, but I wasn't really prepared to handle a failure, and in any case, a Good Applied(lockpicking) skill should have been sufficient for Lily to just check (Take 0) on the roll anyway. This suggests that Dynamo might work best with diceless games (though rolling is certainly possible for those who miss it).
Overall, a very fun session with some good design feedback.
For the gaming system, we used Fluffy, which also needs some testing.
Dynamo (pre-game): On Saturday, while strolling around town, we hashed out the general setting, which was basically film noir, but with slightly updated fashion and Hong Kong action style gunfights and vaguely Lovecraft-like occult powers at work in the background.
On Sunday, we came up with a list of motifs: scenes and elements that captured our desired genre and tone. Our list:
-obscure dying last words
-"damsel" in distress
-all a lie?
-PI gets roughed up
-PI gets dragged in by the cops
-PI offered a bribe
+a dusty, ominous tome
-connection to the decadent element and/or seedier part of town
-tangible evidence of evil (but evidence lost by end of tale)
+a disturbing figurine
+a shoot out
-the good bad guy
+betrayal
-no penalty for shooting a pistol in each hand
-an extra gun somewhere
The +s are those motifs we've used so far (see below). The last couple are almost aspect-like--an idea I want to work on more. It'd be nice to have "themes": general/story aspects you could invoke for a plot point. So, here, any character could spend a plot point to fire two guns without a penalty or to whip out another gun.
Fluffy (char creation): +6 attribute points to spend across 8 attributes. 1 attribute point can be traded in for 4 skill points. A skill or attribute can be reduced to raise another. Later, once the game has started, you can spend a plot point to add a rank in an unbought skill (+1) or to add quirk/hook and invoke it. (We haven't used this last rule yet though.)
LILY McNESSA (S.'s character)
Combat +2
Health: +1
STR: +0
DEX: +1
PERC: +0
KNOW: +0
APPL: +2
SOC: +0
[S.'s didn't bother buying specific skills.]
--Honor (sees things through)
--Doesn't smoke or drink, but has a Tootsie-Pop addiction.
--Weirdness/occult magnet.
Equipment: Beretta, boots, switch-blade, pentacle.
Background: Boxing gym father (died of heart-attack). Catholic maternal grandmother. Apprenticed to a detective, who was bumped off and she had to solve the case of his murder. Owns her own agency now.
WILL STANTON (my character)
Combat: +1 (Guns +3, Brawling -1, Defense +1)
Health: +1
STR: +0
DEX: +0
PERC: +0 (Taste/smell +1)
KNOW: +2 (Occult +4, Languages +3)
APPLIED: +0 (Forgery/docs +1)
SOCIAL: +0 (Disguise +2, Read Person +1)
[1 extra skill point left, which converts to an extra plot point.]
Quirks/Hooks:
--Not respected in occult field (too young; methods too hands-on)
--Needs glasses to read
--Protector of innocent
Equipment: pistol (auto) in shoulder holster, derringer.
Background: Works as office clerk for Lily, both to pay the bills and because occult occurrences seem to follow her.
Dynamo (the game): We then came up with an initial conflict/inciting incident: a job to recover a strange box. This quickly turned into the first scene, with S. taking the lead in narration.
We didn't pause to do the story sketching phase of Dynamo: determine possible conclusion(s) and map out a few NPCs and waypoint scenes along the way. It seemed obvious at first: the story ends when we solve the case. But, though it seems like it might have taken some of the mystery out of things, having a few waypoints added to the motif and character hooks list probably would have helped. Doing so still would have left all the specific details that need to be adlibbed.
We then traded the limelight/narrative control (represented by a large silver coin) after each scene. Scenes seemed to be naturally delimit themselves, and generally corresponded with locations (as I suspected they would).
Here's how the story progressed:
Stolen item job: box, with gold corners and inlay. [S]
--Client: officious/fastidious business man, paying 3x normal rate
--Stolen by hood/crime lord: Citizen Frank Valenti
--Lily knows one of Frank's men from father's gym: Rocko.
Go see Rocko [Z]
--Uncooperative; knows nothing of Frank's "ivory" interests
--Fresh pink scars on hands
--Suggests we talk to Richard Ontario, Frank's art dealer
Break into R.O.'s office [Z]
--Past the lobby security guard by using fire escape
--Odd shrunken head in desk drawer
--Frank's file of purchased: mummified infant+cat, cabinet of curiosities, grotesque Venus-like statue, death-mask of Mata Hari.
--Current file: large cargo (6'x6'x4') coming in from Ivory Coast.
--Invite to Frank's party.
About this point, we took a break. This was tiring work coming up with the whole story on the fly.
Dynamo discoveries: GMs probably won't want to keep the limelight, as I first thought--it's a lot of pressure. And so it should probably regularly pass back and forth in turn (unless someone wants to pay to keep it).
Also, there's probably no need to spend plot points to contribute to the story as a player. The narrating GM should still be able to deny a contribution, but we found that any input was welcome, as the narrating GM was usually willing to grasp at any straw. S. did a great job of contribution, producing most of the items in Frank's file of purchased artifacts. She also was always conscious of placing a good solid lead into the next scene, providing both the connection to Rocko and the party invite. Overall, we largely ignored the exchange of plot point chips in relation to narration control.
The incorporation mechanic worked well. For example, in the Rocko scene, I threw in the "ivory" comment and Rocko's scars in the hopes that this would come to mean something later. "ivory" became "Ivory Coast" in the next scene, and S. built on it again later (see below). This is now becoming a clear thread.
The original idea was to work in a motif whenever possible in order to earn a plot point. However, S. suggested placing the motifs into a hat and drawing one out each scene and then having to work it in. We ended up rolling a die to pick randomly--but with the same result. This was a good idea, as the added constraint actually made scene construction easier, rather than harder.
After our break, we returned to the game:
To Frank's party [S]
--Check out his museum, seeing most of his artifacts.
--See box... but Frank walks in with Rocko [betrayed!]
--Escorted out, back to party
Rival gang arrives (Oscar Calzone) and start shooting up the place [shoot out] [Z]
--Dash back to museum room in confusion [S.'s contribution]
Museum room again [S]
--Box is gone... but do find a [dusty tome]
--Will recognizes it as containing African hieroglyphs, from Ivory Coast region.
--Slip out the French windows with book while shootout rages and alarms blare.
Fluffy discoveries: We never actually rolled the dice during the whole session. I almost asked for a roll to pick the lock of R.O.'s office, but I wasn't really prepared to handle a failure, and in any case, a Good Applied(lockpicking) skill should have been sufficient for Lily to just check (Take 0) on the roll anyway. This suggests that Dynamo might work best with diceless games (though rolling is certainly possible for those who miss it).
Overall, a very fun session with some good design feedback.
Friday, April 25, 2008
Not a Scrabble-based Magic System
I can work on RPG design for 6 hours straight with only 2 breaks to pee, but grading for only 30 minutes makes me want to tear my eyeballs from their sockets. Today was my stay-at-home day, and I have about a 4-week backlog of grading to do. Therefore, a nap, dinner, a run, and 12 hours later... and I'm still working on my Scrabble magic system. (I did some grading in there though! And some laundry.)
When we last left it, I had a separate skill and power mechanic going on. However, I was running into trouble on pricing things. For instance, moving (M) anything--even a bottle cap--would inherently cost at least 3 mana. Yet banishing (E) a demon or holding (N) a person immobile would only cost 1 mana (though such acts would require a high skill roll). In short, mind-blowing magic didn't cost any more than subtle magic in the same discipline; it was the disciplines themselves that cost more or less.
Of course, the GM could adjust this per spell, but it still seemed too ad hoc. Or I could combine power and skill into a single mechanic. But I didn't want that either. I wanted them to be separate so you need both enough skill and enough power, and that one doesn't substitute for the other. Sometimes high-powered magic should be possible with low skill... it's just always much more dangerous if you mess it up. That said, it still seems there should be a general initial correlation--if you're highly skilled, you should be able pull together more power.
My post-run insight (I love those--it makes it all worth it) was the tile-based power levels I was considering varied only from 1 to 4, since I was saving the higher scoring tiles (8 points: J, X; 10 points: Q, Z) for mythical magical forms. But my skill levels run from +0 to +3, so just making the base power cost the Difficulty Modifier + 1 suddenly seemed so clean and simple, and fixed most of the hiccups I was struggling with. Now the simple skill steps also give a sensible base power requirement, but the two are still separate, so the GM can modify power as needed for certain odd spells.
So this means I am no longer using the tile scores. And then I decided to go ahead and drop the last real Scrabble-based constraint: the tile frequencies. Rather than requiring a certain number of a particular letter tile, just knowing the letter is good enough. Power levels should be set based on the task, not on the magical school.
And so suddenly I was free of Scrabble, because the only thing I'm using now is the 26 letters. And I think I'd do better if I dropped that too and used some other form to keep track of what "schools" or "runes" of magic a character knows. (A list on a sheet of paper comes to mind...) That way, it's more flexible--they can vary as needed by character or story, some broader or more narrow than others.
Overall, I'm happy with the way my Fluffy urban fantasy magic system is shaping up. However, I think the Scrabble aspect is done for.
I was thinking more about why this should be, though. I think the basic difficulty of a Scrabble-based magic is the flavor/world reason for it: why would a mage (randomly) vary in what spells he knows at any given time? That's basically what's being represented by a rack of limited tiles drawn from a larger pool.
Also, there's a game flavor at work here: resource management. So I think this system would work better for gamist games, such as D&D or GURPS. Also, then you could more easily map the tiles to a specific spell list (whether as stunts or specific skills).
The alternative to representing knowledge is representing power. This might make more sense--that a mage has various levels or fragments of power available at a time. (But again, why?)
The other thing to keep in mind is that Scrabble isn't the only way to approach such a "resource drawing" magic system. Playing cards, tarot cards, or dominoes might work better, depending on what you need. I particularly like the idea of dominoes--they just feel like little runestones in your hand!
So, while perhaps not completely abandoning it, I think I'll be putting this whole Scrabble thing in cold-storage after all... at least until I run across some magic flavor that actually cries out for it as a mechanic.
When we last left it, I had a separate skill and power mechanic going on. However, I was running into trouble on pricing things. For instance, moving (M) anything--even a bottle cap--would inherently cost at least 3 mana. Yet banishing (E) a demon or holding (N) a person immobile would only cost 1 mana (though such acts would require a high skill roll). In short, mind-blowing magic didn't cost any more than subtle magic in the same discipline; it was the disciplines themselves that cost more or less.
Of course, the GM could adjust this per spell, but it still seemed too ad hoc. Or I could combine power and skill into a single mechanic. But I didn't want that either. I wanted them to be separate so you need both enough skill and enough power, and that one doesn't substitute for the other. Sometimes high-powered magic should be possible with low skill... it's just always much more dangerous if you mess it up. That said, it still seems there should be a general initial correlation--if you're highly skilled, you should be able pull together more power.
My post-run insight (I love those--it makes it all worth it) was the tile-based power levels I was considering varied only from 1 to 4, since I was saving the higher scoring tiles (8 points: J, X; 10 points: Q, Z) for mythical magical forms. But my skill levels run from +0 to +3, so just making the base power cost the Difficulty Modifier + 1 suddenly seemed so clean and simple, and fixed most of the hiccups I was struggling with. Now the simple skill steps also give a sensible base power requirement, but the two are still separate, so the GM can modify power as needed for certain odd spells.
So this means I am no longer using the tile scores. And then I decided to go ahead and drop the last real Scrabble-based constraint: the tile frequencies. Rather than requiring a certain number of a particular letter tile, just knowing the letter is good enough. Power levels should be set based on the task, not on the magical school.
And so suddenly I was free of Scrabble, because the only thing I'm using now is the 26 letters. And I think I'd do better if I dropped that too and used some other form to keep track of what "schools" or "runes" of magic a character knows. (A list on a sheet of paper comes to mind...) That way, it's more flexible--they can vary as needed by character or story, some broader or more narrow than others.
Overall, I'm happy with the way my Fluffy urban fantasy magic system is shaping up. However, I think the Scrabble aspect is done for.
I was thinking more about why this should be, though. I think the basic difficulty of a Scrabble-based magic is the flavor/world reason for it: why would a mage (randomly) vary in what spells he knows at any given time? That's basically what's being represented by a rack of limited tiles drawn from a larger pool.
Also, there's a game flavor at work here: resource management. So I think this system would work better for gamist games, such as D&D or GURPS. Also, then you could more easily map the tiles to a specific spell list (whether as stunts or specific skills).
The alternative to representing knowledge is representing power. This might make more sense--that a mage has various levels or fragments of power available at a time. (But again, why?)
The other thing to keep in mind is that Scrabble isn't the only way to approach such a "resource drawing" magic system. Playing cards, tarot cards, or dominoes might work better, depending on what you need. I particularly like the idea of dominoes--they just feel like little runestones in your hand!
So, while perhaps not completely abandoning it, I think I'll be putting this whole Scrabble thing in cold-storage after all... at least until I run across some magic flavor that actually cries out for it as a mechanic.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
A Scrabble-based Magic System
A month or two ago, I was browsing around the various Fudge pages and ran across mention of a magic system that uses Scrabble tiles. I never found a fleshed-out version; just a few discussions of possibilities. But it got me thinking...
Most of the discussion focused on spelling out English words with a limited number of tiles (usually 7 or so) to cast spells. I thought this would be too limiting and time-consuming. But the idea of having 7 tiles prepared at a time, and drawing from a larger pool, was interesting.
In Scrabble, there are 26 unique letters and a blank. Each letter tile (but not the blank) has a score marked on it. Because the score is in the lower-right corner, even symmetrical letters (like O and I) have clear orientations. So, if each orientation of a letter had a different meaning, it would be possible to have up to 4 * 26 + 1 (the blank) = 105 unique representations. Some letters are much more common, and there is a rough correlation between score value and frequency. This suggested to me that it'd be nice to use the score somehow as a casting cost. Therefore, there'd be lots of have cheap, low-level spells, all readily accessible due to their frequency. Expensive, high-level spells would be vary rare (1 in a 100 tiles).
With over 100 representations to work with, I thought first of a full but simple language, complete with verbs, nouns, and prepositions. I looked through the first two or three hundred of the most common English words for ideas. Then I realized someone had probably already done this language-constructing work. As an example, I found http://tokipona.org/, which is a constructed language with a little over 100 words. Examining this made me realize this was too intense--you'd have a to learn a whole new language just to play a spellcaster! That said, if you're embracing the idea that RPGs are a life-style game, and wanted to reveal the magic system slowly over months of play, this could still be a fun avenue to pursue.
Back to the drawing board, I decided to just focus on the 27 unique letters (including blank). This suggested some rune-like combo system of subjects and verbs. GURPS improv/rune magic has 25 runes. Fudge's Gramarye has 22 colleges and realms. And then there's Fudges 4x5, which as 9.
It turned out to be pretty easy to fill in 27 runes. Soon, I was creating 4 variants for each rune, each of increasing complexity. For example, the Earth rune might have 4 levels: 1) sand/clay 2) stone/solids 3) metals 4) crystals. Similarly, the Sense rune (separate from Knowledge) could involve: 1) heightened senses 2) see through material 3) true-seeing (see through magic) 4) scry (see through distance). Perhaps rotating each tile would add one to its basic mana requirement (which is initially its Scrabble score).
By this point I realized I was back to the original problem: 105 representations is too much! And that's before you even start combining them to make spells.
The other annoying thing I was running into was lack of orthogonality. That is, there was frequently more than one way to do something. For example, if Mind is a noun, then should controlling that mind require the Move or Transform rune? Or should there be a separate Control rune for mental actions? Is steam Air or Water? Do you need both Earth and Water runes to affect mud? Even if it's pretty thick mud? I decided that, if I was going to do this whole combo approach, I would just stick with the 4x5 system. (And, actually, I'd consider combining Mind and Spirit into one category, making it 4x4.)
At this point I was getting ready to give up the project as just too complex. But then I realized I didn't really have an idea of what I was trying to do here, other than use Scrabble tiles in some way. I had no overarching vision. So I went back to examine the real Magic System Basics in order to consider my options.
In the last couple months, S. and I have been watching and reading a lot of Dresden Files, which is basically an fun urban fantasy setting. It gels nicely with other similar material, such as from Neverwhere, American Gods, Nightwatch, etc. This gave me a flavor for my magic: I wanted some sort of subtle magic that could pass in an urban setting, but that is still capable of producing the world-shaking spells of myth and legend, and can include any kind of historical magic system.
We've also been playing a lot of Huffy/Fluffy lately, so I decided I wanted a simple magic system--which is almost in conflict with the complexity naturally suggested by a Scrabble system's potential.
I also realized I don't need to use the full Scrabble tile set. In fact, if I did, it'd mean every magic-using player would need their own full Scrabble game! So I cut the set in half. This means a few characters--such as K, the only 5-point letter--might get thrown out... but only if every caster needs the full half-set.
So, the past few days, I've been doodling ideas and finally inspiration hit last night that brought all my various notes together. I will use a single Magic skill to determine casting ability. Magic is an exertion of will on the world, and so it must overcome the inertial disbelief of those around you. (Though I've never played, or even read much of it, I guess this is basically the Mage: The Ascension idea here.) This makes it easy to adlib spell effects--it's basically dependent on how overt and unlikely the spell effect is. This is the core, simple thing used to adjudicate spell effects, and the system could probably just run on this alone.
The complexity--and flavor--is then in what kinds of magic a character knows, since not every character is good at every kind of magic. This is represented by the Scrabble tiles. I'd like to have these gained through gameplay, rather than simply bought with skill points. Each tile corresponds to a magical verb. There are no nouns; those are implicit/provided by the casting ritual of the spell. Each verb has a mana cost corresponding to the tile's Scrabble score. I'm not messing with different tile orientations, but multiple tiles of the same letter can provide more intricate effects (with appropriately higher mana costs). Most spells would involve a single letter, but some higher spells could involve more.
The challenge for characters in this system is to come up with enough mana at once to cast spells. A higher Magic skill gives a caster a couple more points, but the rest comes from special locations, rituals, items, etc. I'm using the magical laws of Similarity and Contact in all of this too.
Anyway, I think the basic ideas are together, but I still have to flesh out all the details. If it works out, this will likely become a possible Zludge/Fluffy magic system. Sadly, I'm no longer using the full information-encoding potential of the tiles, or the mechanic of tiles being drawn randomly from a pool, or 7 tiles being held in the mind at a time. But I think I made the right decision to start with the flavor of the magic and the nature of enclosing gaming system I wanted instead. I think the tiles will be a nice touch just as a physical representation of accumulated knowledge, as well as handy representations of spell costs.
Most of the discussion focused on spelling out English words with a limited number of tiles (usually 7 or so) to cast spells. I thought this would be too limiting and time-consuming. But the idea of having 7 tiles prepared at a time, and drawing from a larger pool, was interesting.
In Scrabble, there are 26 unique letters and a blank. Each letter tile (but not the blank) has a score marked on it. Because the score is in the lower-right corner, even symmetrical letters (like O and I) have clear orientations. So, if each orientation of a letter had a different meaning, it would be possible to have up to 4 * 26 + 1 (the blank) = 105 unique representations. Some letters are much more common, and there is a rough correlation between score value and frequency. This suggested to me that it'd be nice to use the score somehow as a casting cost. Therefore, there'd be lots of have cheap, low-level spells, all readily accessible due to their frequency. Expensive, high-level spells would be vary rare (1 in a 100 tiles).
With over 100 representations to work with, I thought first of a full but simple language, complete with verbs, nouns, and prepositions. I looked through the first two or three hundred of the most common English words for ideas. Then I realized someone had probably already done this language-constructing work. As an example, I found http://tokipona.org/, which is a constructed language with a little over 100 words. Examining this made me realize this was too intense--you'd have a to learn a whole new language just to play a spellcaster! That said, if you're embracing the idea that RPGs are a life-style game, and wanted to reveal the magic system slowly over months of play, this could still be a fun avenue to pursue.
Back to the drawing board, I decided to just focus on the 27 unique letters (including blank). This suggested some rune-like combo system of subjects and verbs. GURPS improv/rune magic has 25 runes. Fudge's Gramarye has 22 colleges and realms. And then there's Fudges 4x5, which as 9.
It turned out to be pretty easy to fill in 27 runes. Soon, I was creating 4 variants for each rune, each of increasing complexity. For example, the Earth rune might have 4 levels: 1) sand/clay 2) stone/solids 3) metals 4) crystals. Similarly, the Sense rune (separate from Knowledge) could involve: 1) heightened senses 2) see through material 3) true-seeing (see through magic) 4) scry (see through distance). Perhaps rotating each tile would add one to its basic mana requirement (which is initially its Scrabble score).
By this point I realized I was back to the original problem: 105 representations is too much! And that's before you even start combining them to make spells.
The other annoying thing I was running into was lack of orthogonality. That is, there was frequently more than one way to do something. For example, if Mind is a noun, then should controlling that mind require the Move or Transform rune? Or should there be a separate Control rune for mental actions? Is steam Air or Water? Do you need both Earth and Water runes to affect mud? Even if it's pretty thick mud? I decided that, if I was going to do this whole combo approach, I would just stick with the 4x5 system. (And, actually, I'd consider combining Mind and Spirit into one category, making it 4x4.)
At this point I was getting ready to give up the project as just too complex. But then I realized I didn't really have an idea of what I was trying to do here, other than use Scrabble tiles in some way. I had no overarching vision. So I went back to examine the real Magic System Basics in order to consider my options.
In the last couple months, S. and I have been watching and reading a lot of Dresden Files, which is basically an fun urban fantasy setting. It gels nicely with other similar material, such as from Neverwhere, American Gods, Nightwatch, etc. This gave me a flavor for my magic: I wanted some sort of subtle magic that could pass in an urban setting, but that is still capable of producing the world-shaking spells of myth and legend, and can include any kind of historical magic system.
We've also been playing a lot of Huffy/Fluffy lately, so I decided I wanted a simple magic system--which is almost in conflict with the complexity naturally suggested by a Scrabble system's potential.
I also realized I don't need to use the full Scrabble tile set. In fact, if I did, it'd mean every magic-using player would need their own full Scrabble game! So I cut the set in half. This means a few characters--such as K, the only 5-point letter--might get thrown out... but only if every caster needs the full half-set.
So, the past few days, I've been doodling ideas and finally inspiration hit last night that brought all my various notes together. I will use a single Magic skill to determine casting ability. Magic is an exertion of will on the world, and so it must overcome the inertial disbelief of those around you. (Though I've never played, or even read much of it, I guess this is basically the Mage: The Ascension idea here.) This makes it easy to adlib spell effects--it's basically dependent on how overt and unlikely the spell effect is. This is the core, simple thing used to adjudicate spell effects, and the system could probably just run on this alone.
The complexity--and flavor--is then in what kinds of magic a character knows, since not every character is good at every kind of magic. This is represented by the Scrabble tiles. I'd like to have these gained through gameplay, rather than simply bought with skill points. Each tile corresponds to a magical verb. There are no nouns; those are implicit/provided by the casting ritual of the spell. Each verb has a mana cost corresponding to the tile's Scrabble score. I'm not messing with different tile orientations, but multiple tiles of the same letter can provide more intricate effects (with appropriately higher mana costs). Most spells would involve a single letter, but some higher spells could involve more.
The challenge for characters in this system is to come up with enough mana at once to cast spells. A higher Magic skill gives a caster a couple more points, but the rest comes from special locations, rituals, items, etc. I'm using the magical laws of Similarity and Contact in all of this too.
Anyway, I think the basic ideas are together, but I still have to flesh out all the details. If it works out, this will likely become a possible Zludge/Fluffy magic system. Sadly, I'm no longer using the full information-encoding potential of the tiles, or the mechanic of tiles being drawn randomly from a pool, or 7 tiles being held in the mind at a time. But I think I made the right decision to start with the flavor of the magic and the nature of enclosing gaming system I wanted instead. I think the tiles will be a nice touch just as a physical representation of accumulated knowledge, as well as handy representations of spell costs.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Fluff: Testing notes
Based on the Rye adventure, here were a few conclusions regarding Fluff:
I'm currently working these changes into the rules. The system has been renamed to Fluffy.
We're also thinking about a similar play-while-hiking version (Huffy), an RPG play context inspired partly by Sherpa. Huffy would probably have a scene-based form of combat, to focus even more on story over mechanics.
- For such a lite-weight system, skills should default to Okay. New characters should get maybe two +1s to spend, though they could still drop one skill to up another.
- The death spiral is too deadly. That is, after a first hit, further hits become more likely. And because, without magical healing, it takes so long to heal from wounds, the game either stalls while the character lays up for a couple weeks, or else death becomes increasingly more likely. It'd be better to tone back the "realism" in the interest of keeping gameplay moving.
- The 3dF (though we were faking it with 3d6) and skill granularity were fine.
- The plot points were nice, and should be used more for player story control, especially for things like filling out character equipment/details on the fly.
- The combat system needs to be clarified. I described the damage levels and the combat mechanic, but left it largely to GM fiat on how the two related. It'd ease gameplay if this was properly defined.
- The player was skeptical about having her wounds "reopen" on a bad roll, especially when they didn't seem that bad the first time around.
I'm currently working these changes into the rules. The system has been renamed to Fluffy.
We're also thinking about a similar play-while-hiking version (Huffy), an RPG play context inspired partly by Sherpa. Huffy would probably have a scene-based form of combat, to focus even more on story over mechanics.
Fluff: Amaryllis, Post-apoc librarian
Date: 02 Mar 08
Player: S.
Together, S. & I came up with the basic world: post nuclear apocalypse in the Badlands of South Dakota. America is gone, though remnants of civilization are slowly regrouping in Sioux City IA, Albany NY, Sarasota FL, Seattle WA, Juneau AK, Cabo San Lucas MX, Rio BR. S.'s character, Amaryllis ("Rye"), is scouring the Badlands on her chopper, looking for books and remnants of civilization. Due to some strange effect of the fallout, gunpowder no longer works.
Rye needs gas. She encounters a blockade formed by a couple buses on the deserted highway, guarded by 3 men. Rather than give over her bike as "tax", she manages to power around the blockade. She takes a couple hits in the battle--one being a crossbow bolt in the leg as she flees. But she gave about as well as she got.
Pulling off the road to avoid pursuit, she meets a young boy named Sam who has been run off from the nearby town for being a "mutant" and a "devil-child". Apparently things seem to move around him. He explains the town is run by the Landlord, who lives up in the "Castle" overlooking the town. He's the only one would have gas.
The two lie low while the three guards from the road block return to town and gather a group of torch-bearers to scour the surrounding desert in the darkness. Rye hides her bike, and she and Sam approach the "Castle"--which proves to be a Quonset hut and another shed surrounded by a high fence.
After trying to figure out how to approach the building without alerting the kenneled guard dogs, Rye eventually attacks a lone guard. A second one comes running, but he is "magically" repelled by a cowering Sam. The original guard and Rye are both bloodied, though Rye puts a thrown dagger in the guard's back as he tries to run for reinforcements. Rye and Sam stumble towards the door of the Quonset hut while the formerly repelled guard begins to stir once more...
This was about 1.5 hours of play. We ended things here as we wanted to make it to a movie that day. S. thought things looked pretty bleak, and we haven't returned to this story since. Should we do so, here's the details:
Amaryllis: Good fighting, Bad strength, Okay grace, Okay know-how, Okay perception, Worse social, Okay survival.
Sam: Bad fighting, Bad strength, Okay grace, Bad know-how, Okay perception, Bad social, Okay survival, (Good psi).
Ideas: I'd thought of having an episodic campaign structure, where each session involves some need--gas, food, supplies, etc--that involves Rye in some local dispute or story. General prompters: muts and tards, a burnt cityscape with preserved convenience store, trail of previous survivors, a sheet trap, tard horde in the city, muts in the subway system.
Also, when we left things so bleak, I considered a world-jumping campaign idea. Perhaps when Sam and Rye pass through doorways together, they move to another world but with the same story--so a fantasy setting (Sam's a wizard), or Hyperborean (Rye is like Red Sonja), etc.
Player: S.
Together, S. & I came up with the basic world: post nuclear apocalypse in the Badlands of South Dakota. America is gone, though remnants of civilization are slowly regrouping in Sioux City IA, Albany NY, Sarasota FL, Seattle WA, Juneau AK, Cabo San Lucas MX, Rio BR. S.'s character, Amaryllis ("Rye"), is scouring the Badlands on her chopper, looking for books and remnants of civilization. Due to some strange effect of the fallout, gunpowder no longer works.
Rye needs gas. She encounters a blockade formed by a couple buses on the deserted highway, guarded by 3 men. Rather than give over her bike as "tax", she manages to power around the blockade. She takes a couple hits in the battle--one being a crossbow bolt in the leg as she flees. But she gave about as well as she got.
Pulling off the road to avoid pursuit, she meets a young boy named Sam who has been run off from the nearby town for being a "mutant" and a "devil-child". Apparently things seem to move around him. He explains the town is run by the Landlord, who lives up in the "Castle" overlooking the town. He's the only one would have gas.
The two lie low while the three guards from the road block return to town and gather a group of torch-bearers to scour the surrounding desert in the darkness. Rye hides her bike, and she and Sam approach the "Castle"--which proves to be a Quonset hut and another shed surrounded by a high fence.
After trying to figure out how to approach the building without alerting the kenneled guard dogs, Rye eventually attacks a lone guard. A second one comes running, but he is "magically" repelled by a cowering Sam. The original guard and Rye are both bloodied, though Rye puts a thrown dagger in the guard's back as he tries to run for reinforcements. Rye and Sam stumble towards the door of the Quonset hut while the formerly repelled guard begins to stir once more...
This was about 1.5 hours of play. We ended things here as we wanted to make it to a movie that day. S. thought things looked pretty bleak, and we haven't returned to this story since. Should we do so, here's the details:
Amaryllis: Good fighting, Bad strength, Okay grace, Okay know-how, Okay perception, Worse social, Okay survival.
Sam: Bad fighting, Bad strength, Okay grace, Bad know-how, Okay perception, Bad social, Okay survival, (Good psi).
Ideas: I'd thought of having an episodic campaign structure, where each session involves some need--gas, food, supplies, etc--that involves Rye in some local dispute or story. General prompters: muts and tards, a burnt cityscape with preserved convenience store, trail of previous survivors, a sheet trap, tard horde in the city, muts in the subway system.
Also, when we left things so bleak, I considered a world-jumping campaign idea. Perhaps when Sam and Rye pass through doorways together, they move to another world but with the same story--so a fantasy setting (Sam's a wizard), or Hyperborean (Rye is like Red Sonja), etc.
Fluff
Date: 02 Mar 08
After working on Zludge for the past few months and generally browsing the indie RPG sites for ideas, I started thinking about a quick, lite-weight rule system for playing "short story" games. That is, it'd be nice to be able to just sit down and whip up a quick, unplanned game to play through and finish in a single session. AnimalBall.com's Instant Game does this very well! But I wanted to use a Zludge-based rule system for gameplay, rather than Animalball's.
So, on a Sunday morning after a light run, S. and I were walking home after breakfast and I said, "We should just go home and play!. So we did. I spent about an hour writing the rule system out on 3/4 of a notebook page. About half that time and space went into converting a 3dF roll system to 3d6 though, since I didn't have my Fudge dice with me. I called the system Fluff, to highlight its light-weight, casual-play nature.
Here's the basic system design:
Roll 3dF, which gives +3 to -3. Adjectives: Best, Better, Good, Okay, Bad, Worse, Worst. (A bit cheesy perhaps, but clear and easy to remember.)
Skills default to Bad. There are no attributes or phases/levels. A new character gets five +1 ranks to spend on skills. A player can spend a rank to specialize (+2) in a subskill. She can also drop one skill by -1 to raise another by +1. (In an ongoing campaign, the GM can periodically give out one or two +1 ranks for players to improve their characters.)
Plot points. The player gets 5 plot points, which she can spend to reroll or tweak a roll, or introduce some coincidence, small world detail, or add some small gadget to their character on the fly. The player earns more plot points by good roleplaying or achieving certain story goals.
Combat is exchange-based. All characters announce what they're doing, and then all roll the appropriate (fighting) skill to do that. Attacked characters roll Defense in response, and the difference gives an idea of how much damage is inflicted. Damage levels include Clipped (-1 for next exchange), Hurt (-1 to rolls), Hurt Real Bad (-2), and Dying (-3/incapacitated).
A first aid check after battle lets a character drop the damage penalty by one. The wound is still there though, and a physical skill failure later might reopen the wound. Players heal about 1 damage level per week.
Equipment is pretty free-form: the player just jots down what their character has. Equipment doesn't usually offer a skill bonus or penalty; it just lets you do something or not.
The context for the first game was a post-apoc world, so we had the following skills (and subskills):
--Fighting (Melee, Ranged, Unarmed, Defense)
--Strength (Athletics, Endurance, Shoving/Lifting, Breaking shit)
--Grace (Speed, Reflexes, Acrobatics, Driving)
--Know-how (Book-learning, mechanics, etc.)
--Perception (Sight, Hearing, Other, Mental)
--Social (Diplomacy, Deception, Intimidate, Gather Info)
--Survival (Tracking, Foraging, First aid, Stealth)
Overall, it worked out pretty well.
After working on Zludge for the past few months and generally browsing the indie RPG sites for ideas, I started thinking about a quick, lite-weight rule system for playing "short story" games. That is, it'd be nice to be able to just sit down and whip up a quick, unplanned game to play through and finish in a single session. AnimalBall.com's Instant Game does this very well! But I wanted to use a Zludge-based rule system for gameplay, rather than Animalball's.
So, on a Sunday morning after a light run, S. and I were walking home after breakfast and I said, "We should just go home and play!. So we did. I spent about an hour writing the rule system out on 3/4 of a notebook page. About half that time and space went into converting a 3dF roll system to 3d6 though, since I didn't have my Fudge dice with me. I called the system Fluff, to highlight its light-weight, casual-play nature.
Here's the basic system design:
Roll 3dF, which gives +3 to -3. Adjectives: Best, Better, Good, Okay, Bad, Worse, Worst. (A bit cheesy perhaps, but clear and easy to remember.)
Skills default to Bad. There are no attributes or phases/levels. A new character gets five +1 ranks to spend on skills. A player can spend a rank to specialize (+2) in a subskill. She can also drop one skill by -1 to raise another by +1. (In an ongoing campaign, the GM can periodically give out one or two +1 ranks for players to improve their characters.)
Plot points. The player gets 5 plot points, which she can spend to reroll or tweak a roll, or introduce some coincidence, small world detail, or add some small gadget to their character on the fly. The player earns more plot points by good roleplaying or achieving certain story goals.
Combat is exchange-based. All characters announce what they're doing, and then all roll the appropriate (fighting) skill to do that. Attacked characters roll Defense in response, and the difference gives an idea of how much damage is inflicted. Damage levels include Clipped (-1 for next exchange), Hurt (-1 to rolls), Hurt Real Bad (-2), and Dying (-3/incapacitated).
A first aid check after battle lets a character drop the damage penalty by one. The wound is still there though, and a physical skill failure later might reopen the wound. Players heal about 1 damage level per week.
Equipment is pretty free-form: the player just jots down what their character has. Equipment doesn't usually offer a skill bonus or penalty; it just lets you do something or not.
The context for the first game was a post-apoc world, so we had the following skills (and subskills):
--Fighting (Melee, Ranged, Unarmed, Defense)
--Strength (Athletics, Endurance, Shoving/Lifting, Breaking shit)
--Grace (Speed, Reflexes, Acrobatics, Driving)
--Know-how (Book-learning, mechanics, etc.)
--Perception (Sight, Hearing, Other, Mental)
--Social (Diplomacy, Deception, Intimidate, Gather Info)
--Survival (Tracking, Foraging, First aid, Stealth)
Overall, it worked out pretty well.
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