Worldspinner: Fantasy RPG Worldbuilder & Map Maker

Hello everyone!

Its been a while since I posted, and now I can finally tell you why! +Mike Lindsey and I have been working with the talented and successful +Darren Giles on his lifetime dream project Worldspinner. We launched the Kickstarter today, and you can check it out here.

The site is pretty sweet; you can make a variety of maps in different styles, each with some very impressive quality, and in a variety of sizes. Don't like how the first one turned out? Make another!

What's super-cool, however, is the way that fantasy world is generated. You get to set a range of initial conditions and spin it; over decades and even millenia cultures grow, interact, fight and conquer, eventually getting you to year 0 of your campaign. You can decide form a range of historical pastiche cultures and traditional standard cultures, and we are hoping to release a few more rather unique ones in the future.

Ever wanted rowdy dwarves and vikings side-by-side as they descend upon the unsuspecting populace? How might a world look where dark elves have all but eliminated other elf races and rule the planet? The cultures are coded with specific tendencies to make them behave in appropriate ways, and have a long list of naming conventions that auto-populates unique names for nations, cities, and even individuals.

Not only that, but each of the 500 or so years you just blew past are all documented within, ready for you to explore or mine for adventure seeds. Periodically a Legendary Hero will arise (and your character can be one with the right pledge) and those heroes throw a monkey wrench into what would have been a normal progression of history. When stuff happens, it matters!

Each of the cities and points of interest that appear on the map are easily moved, deleted, and manipulated as you want. Each comes pre-built with a range of adventure seeds you can hook your players into or overwrite with your own. You can annotate them as well to record what went down so you don't have to leaf through a bunch of notes from three sessions ago. You've spent a week prepping the political adventure in the capitol but your players decide to leave the city and explore the old ruin a few miles away - now you don't have to worry, there's three or four options to go with.

I'm very proud of what we've put together, so check it out and get spinning!

***

I Kissed a Pathfinder..and I Liked It (Pathfinder)

If you have been following this blog - and if you have, thank you! - you will be no stranger to my personal ambivalence towards d20 based games.

Why ambivalent? Well, like most of my generation, I started in this hobby by playing D&D; the original d20 game, back before d20 became a thing-unto-itself. So for me, d20 is the baseline by which all other games evolved outwards from. I can't really hate d20; d20 is my roots, after all. And within it are the basic building blocks for the hobby itself.

But...I've moved on, right? I have other, more advanced - more modern - game systems to play. Fate! Dungeon World! If I want a crunchy d20 game to play, I can spy Fantasy Craft right there on my shelf, waiting to be explored.

Plus, I've played a D&D 3.5 game, and I found the whole experience utterly lamentable. The basic problem was we had GM who was utterly committed to playing the game RAW with no exceptions: but really, if any game played RAW is a dull game, then it's just a bad game system. Right?

Right.

But...well, then there's Pathfinder. The sexier younger sister to D&D 3.5, with the beautiful art and presentation, with the legendarily well-written and flavorful modules ('Adventure Paths'), play-tested and fan-supported, all wrapped up in a cute little bow by local Seattle-area gaming studio Paizo.

Pathfinder always intrigued me. But not enough to play the damned thing. I flipped through the main book, and the modules, and the innumerable splat books with interest and appreciation..and then put them back on the shelf of my FLGS. Great stuff guys...but no thanks.

Flashback to 2012: looking for some gaming aids for my ongoing Fantasy Craft campaign, I stumbled across the Pathfinder Beginner Box. Complete with a playmat, some artful 'pawns' (cardboard miniatures), and set of dice, for just under $30.00? Sure..why not!?



And my gaming group used the hell out these tools: the dice rounded out my polyhedral collection well, and the map and pawns got plenty of use in our Fantasy Craft campaign. As for the rest - the character sheets and pregens, the Game Master Guide and Heroes Handbook- these stayed in the box as curiosity. Flipped through, but unread and unused.

Flash-forward to 2014. It's 8am on Saturday morning, and I'm packing up my stuff for Go-Play NW 2014. Gary has a supers game set for the day...but I've got nothing at all prepped to run. My eye spies the Pathfinder Beginner Box, and I think: sure, why not? If we have a spare moment during the day, I can run this. Easy-peasy.

Long story short: such a spare moment appeared, and I wound up running a game using the Black Fang's Dungeon scenario from the book. The result? I loved running it, and my group had a great time enjoying an old-school dungeon-crawl.

Before we go any further, note that I made some minor rules modifications before we even got started:

• I failed to bring the playmat and minis, so movement and range were made to be largely narrative: Close (melee range), Near (penalty-free ranged attacks) and Far (ranged attacks at -2). Characters were allowed to move one 'zone' for free, or two by giving up an action.
• Skill use was based on narrative justification: if you could justify the use of the skill, it was valid. If the book said 'Knowledge: Religion' was needed for the check, then 'Knowledge: Arcana' could sub as well.
• Penalties for firing into melee combat? Attacks of opportunity? All narrative: the GM says when this stuff matters. If it slows things down or makes the experience suck..it doesn't matter.
• You had to narrate what you were doing to do it. Attacking a goblin? Tell me how you are doing it! You succeed and kill a goblin? Narrate that shit: I want some cinematic flavor at my table, or it's all just boring numbers.

In short, I was running the game using Pathfinder mechanics to modify rolls, but acting like I was GM'ing a game of Dungeon World. And it worked like a dream, and fun was had by all.

What's the take-away from this experience?

For me, it's that any game system can be fun, provided that everyone - players and GM included - are committed to having fun. The minute that any rule gets in the way of that, that rule should immediately be abolished or ignored. 

Secondarily - but just as important - don't ever think of the players as agents that derail your story. They are there to contribute to the story. The players will do things not imagined by you or the module's designers: in this case, improvise!  

In the case of this module the scenario suggested either a resolution as a physical conflict or a diplomatic one: in reality, it was both with the players slaying King Fatmouth and interrogating a charmed goblin;  I chose as GM to provide the 'diplomatic solution' info via the charmed goblin, as this seemed the logical reward to this cautious approach. The story was thus adjusted based on player initiative, rather than being derailed altogether. 

So will I be running more Pathfinder games in the future? 

Sadly, the answer to this seems to be 'no'. My gaming group prefers the flavor found in newer - and more narrative, and flexible - game systems like Fate: as soon as I suggested we play Pathfinder ongoing the conversation led to talk of Fate Freeport being used for fantasy gaming. Which is great: I loves me some Fate gaming.

So for now, Pathfinder will have to live in inside of it's little Beginners Box, unloved and hardly played. But we did have a moment, once.

And I liked it. 

***

Four-Color FAE: Supers Gaming via Fate Accelerated - pt6

Here in Part 6 I move away from discussing game-mechanics and play, towards the sort of features I would like to see as GM in our fictional world.

We will be building the world at the table using the rules provided in Fate Core, but this post was made to 'prime the pump' before we hit the gaming table.


See the whole Four-Color FAE series here


***
Inspirations for our Supers Game

There is ALWAYS a monkey in Fate

First came the Golden Age: the beginning, an age of mystery men and women. An age of hope and optimism; an age of sacrifice and glory.

Then came the Silver Age: an age of boundless confidence. All problems seemed to be but puzzles to be solved by super-science and an unshakable sense of rightness.

This was followed by the Bronze Age. This was the era when the cracks began to show; when heroes were shown to have feet of clay, and when villains and heroes began to blur together and intermingle.

All this was before the dark times; before the Age of Iron. An age dominated by so-called 'heroes' with names like Bloodspawn and Venomreaver; an age of mindless violence and endless cycles of vengeance between what were effectively warring gangs of meta-talented thugs.

Thankfully this time has now past, and a new world is beginning to emerge from the ashes.

A world maybe more jaded and self-aware, but a world that believes in wonder, and a world that believes that right and wrong, in a sometimes hard to discern but very real difference between good and evil.

A world that believes that liberty and justice are not mere abstractions but inherent and eternal truths.

A world that believes in hope.

And this is your world now. And what you will make of it will define the arc of your story, your legacy, and our shared destiny.

--------

My inspirations for our shared game-world are largely from the comics of the late 1990's and the past decade, where a conscious attempt was made to recapture some of the gonzo energy, innocence, optimism and sense of wonder from the previous ages of comics after the lifeless and bland 'grimdark' of the Iron Age.

Inspirations include:

*Monkeyman and O'Brien (pictured)
*Top Ten
*Teen Titans (Wolfman & Perez era)
*Legion of Superheroes (Jeff Moy era)
*Leave it to Chance
*Astro City
*Young Justice (animation)
*Heroes for Hire (seriously!)

This a world where the unbelievable and the mundane, the sublime and the ridiculous rub shoulders with one another. Where no matter how gonzo things might seem to the outside observer, everyone is taking it completely seriously in the fiction.

Questions that could be asked of your hero during character creation:

*What makes you a hero? What is it that motivates you?
*Who are your heroes? Who inspires you? Are you somehow following in their footsteps?
*What is the source of your strength? What is your greatest weakness?

Keep in mind; a great superhero universe is a smorgasbord of seemingly incompatible influences; there are no bad ideas to bring to the table, but only ideas that we need to figure out how to incorporate into the whole.

Looking forward to talking about this more at the gaming table! 

***

Game Theory: What's on the menu?

Say what you like, Pathfinder's got Class

It's 1985, and my friend Brian (a huge fan of the newly published Dragonlance novel, Dragons of Autumn Twilight) convinces me to purchase the D&D Red Box at the local Toys "R" Us so we can play a game with a similar cast of characters that he had come to love in that series.

Getting back to his house with our newly obtained loot, we open up the box and start reading (after marveling after the odd dice and little crayon included, along with the map). 

We start with the one marked Player's Manual, as it is inscribed with bold yellow letters saying: READ THIS BOOK FIRST! The color, the fact that it's in all caps and with the added '!' indicates that this is an important prerogative, so we dutifully comply. 

Immediately we find that the book gives us a series of options to play characters; this is not some free-form improv-theater piece where you just make up a guy and bluff your way through. It's hard-coded with options that reinforce what sort of characters are expected to appear as protagonists are expected to appear in this world. These options were:

Humans (Yay! We are human, and we get to pretend that we are other humans!)

• Cleric
• Fighter
• Magic-user
• Thief

Demi-humans (Yay! We are human, and we get to play things that are almost, but not-quite human!)

• Dwarf
• Elf
• Halfling

Now, I had bought this game to play a Magic-user - since magic is cool - so I knew immediately what 'Class' of character I wanted to play already (although I looked REALLY hard at the Elf as a option. He gets to do magic AND he's good at fighting? Money.)

So I rolled up my character as per the book, didn't get a high Intelligence (which the book said I HAD to have to even play a Magic-user), so Brian and I agreed that it would be OK to switch some numbers around to facilitate that. 

Time from reading my first RPG to hacking my first RPG? About 1 hour.

From there I picked out a few weak first-level spells, choose some languages I knew, a bought some gear with what little money I had from the gear list, and went into my first dungeon (and somehow survived it, which is a wonder to this day).

Looking at the most recent version of D&D today, although a lot has changed (Elves and Dwarves and Halflings are still there, for example, but they are no longer 'Classes') the fact remains that the system is still very much menu-driven: rather than being given limitless options to make the character you envision, instead you are given a 'menu' of options to choose from, and build around that. 

You choose:

• Your Race
• Your Ability Scores
• Your Class
• Your Skills, Feats, Powers, and Equipment (as appropriate for your Class)
• Your Alignment

Once this is resolved, voila! You are ready to do some D&D. 

Make sure to fill in all the circles, please.

As per the original D&D, the 'menu' concept continues from there as you play; as you gain Experience Points (the meta-resource for the game that enables you to gain new abilities), you are given new options to build upon your abilities. But as offered in character creation, the decision-tree presented for advancement is determined by the original choices you made for your character when you started. The choices you make simply offer new sub-menus with limited numbers of new options you can add to your character.

Every RPG system to date has some form of menu available to choose what sort of character you are playing, and what they can do well or not-so-well. Some of the lists can be bigger and offer more choices than others (GURPS, for example, has a mind-boggling number of options right out of the box), and some smaller (indie-darling Dungeon World has a relatively small menu to choose from vs 4e), but there is still a menu regardless.

Why is this? Why do we want or need a menu at all? Why can't we just say: 'Here's my character, this is what motivates him, and this what he is good and bad at', and hit the gaming table with that?

Well, menus do a few key things for RPG's:

• Menus reinforce genre. Having a game where the options include Cleric, Wizard and Fighter but does not include something like 'Cyborg' tells us a lot about the world the characters are expected to appear in.
• They also help define Party Roles, which is important for team-based play; a state assumed by 99% of the RPG's on the market.
• Menus (in theory..) promote game-balance. By clearly defining what sort of abilities can appear on the table in any combination, you can limit Mary Sue-ism and reinforce party roles, as above.
• Having a menu also helps players to decide what sort of character they will play by defining what sort of character is allowed in the game. If you have no clear idea of what sort character you want or what traits they should have, having a limited list to choose from is of help.

But it's not all gravy. Menus also limit you in some key ways as well:

• They limit your options. Want to play a Fomorian princess-in-exile who can cross between the Otherworld and our own? Too bad; that's not in the book. 
• They limit imagination. You want your wizard to cast a huge spell that impresses the frost giants into aiding your cause? Too bad; you have nothing that allows that on your character sheet. Think of something else.
• They can also create the bizarre netherworld of 'Character Optimization'; a term that comes up often in reference to D&D 4e and her prettier and more popular sister, Pathfinder. Just because you have more than one option to choose from when creating and advancing your character doesn't mean that they are all equally useful. Which segueways us well to the next issue...
• Menus promote samey-ness. If my optimized fighter with optimized gear looks just like your optimized fighter with optimized gear at Gen-Con, it's like two girls in the same dress at the prom. Neither one of us looks very unique or interesting next to the other. 

My current interest in more 'rules-light' systems like Fate or Heroquest is not because I hate all-the-damned-rules; I've happily played and run games with all-the-damned-rules just fine, thank you very much.

The main appeal for me is that these sort of systems allow me to play what my imagination summons up without having to either hack the system, make my own playbook from scratch, or ignore some rule to make it work. In other words; I have the freedom to order something not on a menu.

Dagger-wielding cultists, evil robots, and a zeppelin? Huh, guess it's Wednesday already.

As a GM, I have always had the freedom to make my NPC's as I like with just about any RPG on offer. But as a player I want to have that same freedom when making and advancing my character, and as GM I would like my players to have that same freedom as well.

Note that this sort of freedom is not by necessity limited to 'rules light' systems either; Mutants & Masterminds grants a massive number of options for character creation, and allows the player to pre-flavor them as desired, as does the ever-popular Savage Worlds (although Savage Worlds could be described more as 'rule-medium' at worst).

It's no secret that my current RPG drug-of-choice is Fate. I've been tinkering with it since I first discovered it as FUDGE-hack, and for the same reasons noted above; because it allows me to make the character I want to play at the gaming table straight-out, and not some compromise that some distant game-designer thought I might like to play; nor do I have to wait until I've reached some arbitrary 'level' to play them.

In Fate, for example, if I want to play a wizard with Hands burned by the cold fire of the underworld, who has Shadow-demons that respond to my whispered commands, I can. No hacking required; just add those Aspects, some Skills or approaches to reinforce this, and maybe some Stunts and/or an Extra to back it up, and 'boom!': I'm ready to do some Fate.

For me, this is all-kinds of awesome. I'm now given permission to play what I want at the gaming table, and my friends are as well. 

As noted above, however, there is a trade-off here; by abandoning a menu-based system we have opened the possibility for confusion. With no road-map, with no clear path to create characters, we are now largely left our understanding of the system to create characters; and this is often a scary path for new players and even new game-masters.

In many ways this is the main failure of Fate Core in particular; by not providing a good number of examples for creation of characters (something I think Savage Worlds and Mutants & Masterminds in particular does well), new players are largely left adrift at sea when making sense of what the system can do. That's unfortunate, and I hope that some of my posts here might assist in that regard.

That being said; despite the difficulties involved, for me the effort is worth it to make the characters we want to play appear at the gaming table.

It may be the chef's (game-designers) pots, pans and range we are using, but we get to pick the ingredients now. And we have free-run of the kitchen:

So let's get cooking.

***

Story Time: Hall of the Mountain Lord pt 4

Continuing from Part 3, here is the fourth part of the ongoing story: enjoy!

***
With nothing more to do or say there, Adara and Hamim quickly finished their bread and tea, and made their way back out into daylight. The wind had finally died down a bit, and the gold of the sun and the azure sky could now be seen in their glory.

Adara mounted on the camel with Hamim walking alongside, they were still within visual distance of Lacan's home when they noticed a lone figure running after them.

Adara stopped the camel mid-trot with a well placed mark of her riding-stick, while she and Hamim awaited this vision to catch up with them. It was clear from his speed, as well as his reddish cloak, that the runner was the boy Zorab well before the sight of his face made this point completely obvious.

After a minute or two the racing figure of Zorab finally met up with the two travelers. Panting for breath in the desert heat, he said: "Whew! Thank you for stopping. You two move quickly!"

"How can we help you, Master Zorab?" asked Hamim.

"Ah!" said Zorab "You speak! But you ask the wrong question. It is I who have come to offer my help to you."

"Help?" asked Hamim "What help might you give us?"

"Hamim" rebuked Adara, gently. "Please, Master Zorab. Please do explain yourself."

"My Master is wise" noted Zorab, "..but wisdom is not all in this world. I think that together we can save your brother,"

"How?" inquired Adara, her breast now refilled with an abandoned hope.

"What?" asked Hamim: "Who are you now? We just spoke to your teacher and master, and he told us the very opposite! Who are you to fill our ears with such promises?"

"Mister Hamim" said Zorab gravely, looking the serious boy now straight in the eye:

"Please do not underestimate me due to my manner. I have seen such things the likes that mortal men pass off as mere legend. I have dispensed with such horrors that your very nightmares dare not even generate. I assure you that this sort of thing- exactly this sort of thing, actually- is the very territory by which I live, the very air that I breathe. And I should ask you not to question me in such matters."

Something about the boy's gaze made Hamim shudder, and now fall silent.

"But" interjected Adara "Your Master said that it is impossible..."

"And as I said just now- he is very wise" confirmed Zorab, "As is your Imam. But wisdom is not all in this world. Wisdom is simply the knowledge of the past, applied to the present. To see the world in wisdom is to see with the eye that sees itself. But one cannot see the whole world, with only this one eye."

He continued "To find your brother, we must follow his path. You will need me to find this path, I think. And I will need you to take me to him, as you two are associated. The link that refuses to let him go is the link that shall redeem him."

"Well..." he said, now sounding a tad less confident - "In theory. But we should definitely give it a go! So.....how about it?"

"We place ourselves in your hands, Master Zorab" said Adara "I can trust that we can trust you?"

"Of course!" said Zorab, enthusiastic. "It shall be a grand adventure! I am sure that we will do well. We should not dawdle- meet tomorrow morning? I suggest that you pack for four-days journey, just in case."

"Wait," said Hamim, awoken from his spell "Milady, we are really going to trust this....boy?"

"Yes, we are. And I do" she confirmed. "Zorab, I am putting my faith in you. Where and when shall we meet again?"

"By the town well, at first light tomorrow" stated Zorab "We will go to the place of Shamal's summoning, which I assume that you know. We should go on foot, so carry only that which you truly need; I will make sure to do the same."

"First light then" she affirmed. And with that, Zorab headed back to his Master's house, and Adara with Hamim to the house of her father.

----------------------------------------------------------

The moon stood high in the sky, bathing the valley in the hue of it's pale fire.

Then, ever so slowly the light of Eos - the sun's first rays- rose in the east, staining the eastern sky in it's royal crimson and gold. It was in this new light that Adara and Hamim, accompanied by their one camel, found themselves at the well. Hamim drew from it's waters, mostly operating by touch and memory in the semi-darkness. 

And so they waited, as the light continued to rise triumphant in the sky, banishing the moon into obscurity for another day. Soon would be dawn's Call to Prayer, which would stir the entire village to waking.

"Where is he?" wondered Hamim aloud. "Has he forgotten us? We stole away from home in silence- a shameful thing - and he does not have the decency to come?"

"He will be along shortly" said Adara. But her voice ended in a note of uncertainty now.

Then, finally, a small figure appeared on the horizon, moving not particularly quick in their direction. The figure became clearer and clearer as he moved ever more close; first the red of his cloak, then his blondish head, then his brown and handsome face, then his heavy lidded eyes. 

Seeing Hamim and Adara waiting, he waved, yawned, and smiled at them weakly - saying: "Good morrow to you."

"Good morrow" replied Adara.

"You are late", scolded Hamim. 

"Ah! Yes. Sorry!" apologized the boy, looking bashful in his tiredness. "I was up all night thinking what all I needed to bring. I got started out a bit late, I am afraid. But I am sure that I have everything."

"What all do you have?" asked Adara, curious. 

"I packed much of it half-asleep, so I am not 100% certain about all of it. Hmmm..." he said, rustling through his pack. "Many scrolls. Bread- important! Tea leaves; water. And....ummm...ah? What's this?" he asked aloud. He reached in with his hand, then pulled it out carrying a brass bell of foreign-make.

"Oh, that's pretty!" noted Adara.

"Why would you bring such a thing?" asked Hamim "You told us to pack light."

"It is a brass bell of Qinyan make" explained Zorab. "And I can't recall why I brought it now. It made sense last night...."

"If you cannot recall, how do you know that you need it?" asked Hamim, somewhat exasperated. 

"Oh, I do my best thinking half-asleep. That's when my Dreaming Eye is most alert. I am sure there is good reason to have it."

Then, "Speaking of which- why is there a camel? I recall saying that we should travel on foot."

"It is half a day's journey" said Hamim. "I would not let her ladyship travel on foot that long! Should she blister her feet, like some nomad?"

"Ah, no. I see your point there...I suppose we will simply have to look after the camel as well, somehow." He seemed to think on this a moment, then said "We will make do. So....shall we get going?"

"Yes, please" said Adara. And so they began their way to the hills of Shamal's last sighting, Adara on the camel's back now, with Hamim and Zorab walking alongside; the town soon tiny in the distance. 

Adara knew that it was now time for the Call to Prayer, but however strong the lungs of the cryer, no matter how she strained to listen she was unable to hear the voice.

"I have not missed the Call since I was very young, or very sick", noted Adara with regret. 

"The Goddess is forgiving", noted Zorab. "We shall meet her again, when her disc is at it's zenith in the sky."

And so they made their way along, deeper into the wilderness, as the little town disappeared completely behind a dune.

--------------------------------------------------

End Part 4

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Story Time: Hall of the Mountain Lord pt 3

A continuation of the short story Hall of the Mountain Lord; in this episode our two travelers visit the home of the aged Lacan, who is rumored to be a wizard....

After two hours journey, they came upon the dwelling of Lacan.

It was set not far from a pool, but the home itself was set in the sand. Lacan's dwelling was unusual; in fact, remarkably so. Rather than a tent, or a house of mud-brick, Lacan lived in a house carved out of rock; a rock buried into the very earth itself.

It was said that the unusual house with the unusual design once belonged to the diminutive nomads known as the Iiyesi, but no one really knew for sure. What was known was that Lacan had made this place his home for as long as anyone now living could recall.

Hamim tied their camel to a post outside the door, then helped Adara to dismount. The baroque door itself was round, it's wood well-weathered by the sand, which filled every crack and crevice in it's frame.

Hamim rapped his staff upon the door, and awaited an answer. When none was forthcoming, he swung his staff to knock again; but at that very instant, the door flew open!

Hamim and Adara now looked upon a young man, seemingly about their same age as themselves. He wore a coat of burnt-red, his shirt beneath, in contrast, the shade of curdled cream. His skin was a shade lighter than Hamim's, and his eyes shone a pleasant green. His hair, interestingly enough, showed blonde; especially on top where it had been bleached by the sun.

Adara noted the boy's handsomeness, at this first viewing.

"Ah!" said the boy. "Good day. And who might you be?"

Adara lowed her veil, letting him see her face. "I am Adara, daughter of Yasser. I have come to speak with the master of this house."

"Peace be upon you, Adara" said the boy. "I am known as Zorab."

Then: 

"Master!" he yelled back into the house: "There is a pretty girl here to see you!"

"Now see here...!" started Hamim, indignant.

"Oh", said the boy called Zorab, to Hamim: "My apologies."

"A pretty girl" he shouted back "...and her camel-driver, are here to see you!"

"I am not interested in pretty girls, or camel-drivers!" said the voice within. "Ask them to please move on."

"Alas," explained Zorab: "my Master speaks the truth. Well...about the girls, at least. He might be in need of good camel-driver, at some point."

Adara looked the boy in the eye, and speaking calmly - but firmly - stated:

"Hamim here is a trusted and faithful servant of my house, and not a mere camel-driver, and this is not a social-call; and certainly not a marriage-offer! I am here to seek the aid of Master Lacan, who it has been said is magi, and a great scholar."

"Oh?!" exclaimed Zorab. "Master! She says..."

"I can hear well enough, Zorab- stop yelling everything back" complained the voice within. "And stop being rude to our guests and invite them in for food and drink, already."

"My apologies" said Zorab, sincerely, while opening the door for his guests; "Please, please- do come in!"

The space within was dimly lit, and seemingly poorly organized- at least it seemed to Adara, who toiled daily to keep her father's home clean and tidy.

Scrolls were everywhere - some tied closed, others unfurled- many covered with a light layer of dust. All manner of clay jars stood on shelves, and some atop the single table that was to be found in the center of the room. The boy Zorab dusted the table quickly, arranging the jars in the center, and removed an open scroll, laying it aside on a corner bench. He pulled up some cushions, motioning for the guests to sit.

Adara and Hamim sat at the table, both looking a bit uncomfortable (Hamim, if fact, looking very uncomfortable) as their eyes adjusted to the relative darkness of the room. Zorab made some noise in the kitchen, and soon emerged with a serving of za'atar bread and nice, hot pot of strong tea, which he placed on the table for the two visitors. Neither touched either the offered food or beverage.

The man called Lacan emerged from the gloom, carrying a walking stick, which he leaned on ever-so-lightly. Adara noted that particles of dust danced around him, where shafts of light illuminated his form. His face was the texture of brown stone, weathered by decades of dust and sun. What had once been a rich head of black hair was now a few retreating strands of grey, One eye showed clear and black- alert- and the other covered by a white cloud, now dead. His robes were simple and brown, and showed signs here and there of many mendings. Not the trappings of a rich man, to be sure. But they had come to see a magi, and this Lacan looked every bit the part.

"Now" said Lacan, taking his seat with leaden groan. "Ah. Well, then. We are seated now, yes? So- you are Adara, daughter of Yasser?"

"Yes, Master Lacan" she affirmed. 

"And this handsome boy?"

"I..." started Hamim.

"He is Hamim, and he is servant to my house" interrupted Adara. 

"Oh?" started Lacan. "You would share a table with your slave? You traveled alone with him as well, I gather?"

"I trust Hamim above all others, as does my Father" insisted Adara. "And he may sit at any table that I do. Perhaps you feel otherwise, Master Lacan?" she asked, a small portion of her anger showing in her voice.

The old man looked more amused than anything. "Oh no! My table is open to all visitors, regardless of station. As is my pantry; so please... Please! Do eat! Zorab there may look - and, sadly, act - rather foppish, but he is a capable cook. I think that you will find the tea and bread to your liking."

"Thank you, but we have come here for a grave purpose, Master Lacan..." interjected Adara.

"I see this" said Lacan, stopping her midway. "And important matters should not be discussed on an empty stomach. Zorab, would you be so kind as to pour some tea for your Master as well?" he inquired "Unless you think that I am not worthy of service, in my own home?"

"Ah!" said Zorab. "Oops! Yes, let me find you a cup, Master." He quickly found a cup, and dutifully poured the tea for his Master.

The boy and girl ate their bread, and drank their tea- both were in fact, delicious - while the old man watched them, slowly sipping the rich beverage from his own vessel.

Finally, he said "Please, now- tell me why you traveled so far to see me today."

So Adara told her tale, as she had for the Imam, answering Lacan's brief questions. She told of the Moon, the bell, how she was somehow dreaming while awake; unable to move. Unable to save her only, her beautiful little brother. A few unwanted tears appeared again, the boy Zorab handing her a cloth to wipe them away.

Lacan let her say all that she had to say, and finally asked: "And you told all of this to the Imam, already, right? To Dhakir."

"Yes" she said. She then bit her lower lip- hard enough to hurt, draining the color, and said "He told me to just give up on him! That he belonged to the Jinn- to the spirits- now!"

"The Imam is a wise man" concluded Lacan " Although wisdom is not often well-received."

"Adara," he paused "...Adara. You are a kind soul, and a brave one, I am sure. I can see that you truly love your brother, and all of this must be painful for you. I understand that your own mother has passed on?"

"Yes" confirmed Adara. "Shamal never knew her."

"Ah" said Lacan, now seeing the full picture "Then you have been as a mother to Shamal as well. I see. That makes what I am about the say all the more difficult, I suppose."

"Adara?" 

"Yes?" she said.

"The Imam was correct, I think. Shamal has been called into the land of Air Spirits, and no longer belongs to this world- which is called 'Midworld' in the Grand Cosmology. You should go about your life, and have your own children. Think well of your brother. You can recall him forevermore, as he was."

"That is unacceptable!" she cried. "I should simply abandon my brother? Why become Imam, why join the world of the magi- if you cannot DO anything? What is the point of wisdom if it just means that you know yourself to be useless? Surely, there is something more that can done than this?! Than nothing?!"

"Indeed" said Lacan. "Indeed, I shall never become so old that I cannot be rebuked by the words of the young, I suppose. I apologize for my uselessness, young lady. I suppose I should rest these old bones now, so I should take my leave of you. Peace be upon you- please enjoy your fill before making your journey back home."

And with that, he left the table and the two young people on their own. 

---------------------------

End Part 3
Continued in Part 4
Part 1
Part 2

Fate Random Tables II: The Randoming

I'm back with more random Fate tables!

Beat Cops and Hired Goons

Goons. Hired goons.

When you've got a bunch of mooks, you can use this table to quickly spice up a few of them. This works well if the PCs need to interact with one (like in an interrogation, or to get past some guards), just to give the poor mechanical speedbumps a little personality. You can adapt these entries pretty easily to fantasy city guards, sci-fi mercenaries, or what have you.

	0	+	+	+	+
0	Snitch / Undercover	Too Dumb to Quit (takes an additional consequence)	One Good Cop / Honor Among Thieves	Hungry Rookie	Don't You Know Who My Father Is?
-	Hiding an Addiction	Looking Out For Number One	Family Man	One Last Job / 2 Days Till Retirement
-	Loves This Job	Nothing Personal	Trapped By Gambling Debts
-	Sadistic Psychopath	Hates This Job
-	Catastrophically Incompetent

Random Quirks

In the same mold, here's a table for quickly determining distinguishing features for random NPCs, so it looks like you planned it all along. Yeah, planned it all along. That's the ticket.

	0	+	+	+	+
0	Crying Game	Bald	Ridiculous Hat	Bad Plastic Surgery	Supermodel and Knows It
-	Ginger	Skinny	Brawny	Tats and Piercings
-	Limp	Twitchy	Ponytail Express
-	Rat-faced	Scarred
-	Shop Class Accident

Putting it Together

Let's give it a few tries and see what we get.

The PCs roll up to the club's side entrance. It's guarded, but there's only one guy out there. Two rolls of 4dF give us a -1, +1, 0, 0, followed by a 0, 0, 0, -1. The guard's a ginger who's looking out for "number one". Maybe he'd angle for a bribe right away, since he's looking out for himself. Maybe if the PCs put on a strong enough show of force the guard won't stick around.

Let's do it again, this time with a +1, 0, 0, 0 and a 0, -1, 0, -1. The guard on the side door now has a limp and is "Too Dumb to Quit". He's probably not going to just back down from the PCs, but they might be able to trick him pretty easily. If they resort to violence, the guy will be tough but with an easily-spotted physical vulnerability they can take advantage of.

I'm not a fan of letting random tables guide the entire story, but when it comes to details that might have otherwise been overlooked or glossed over, I think they can guide your game into places you might not expect. Have fun!

Story Time: Hall of the Mountain Lord pt 2

Continuing my earlier Story Time post, here is part 2 of Hall of the Mountain Lord.

Adara, Hamim, and Adara's father now sat in audience with the Imam.

Adara sat in silence, looking towards to floor with eyes still red and puffed from shed tears. A cup of coffee sat in her hands, almost hot enough to burn. She didn't mind the little bit of pain it caused- it helped to keep her focused, in a way.

The Imam put down his now empty cup of coffee, which a young serving boy instantly refilled with the steaming beverage. He took another sip, and now looking at Adara, he spoke to her:

"Adara: tell me what you told your Father- about your dream."

"It was just a dream, Teacher" she said.

"No dream is just a dream, daughter of Yasser" he replied. "Tell me what it was that you saw in your dream."

Hands shaking a bit, she took a sip of her coffee - it was strong and bitter, and she hated the flavor, but it gave her a moment to collect herself. Then she spoke:

"I saw...I saw my brother- I saw Shamal", another tear escaped down her cheek, which she brushed away with her sleeve. "I saw him in the moonlight. I...couldn't move. In the dream- outside the dream - I could not go to him. I couldn't go." Her single tear was now doubled, now trebled, and she struggled to wipe away their evidence as they fell without heed.

"I could not GO", she lamented.

"I understand, my child" said the Imam. "Please now- tell me more. What else do you recall?"

"I heard the sound- of a bell? Like the Moon itself was calling. But....but....the call was not for me...", she recounted.

"The Moon? It was the Moon that called?"

"I don't know, Imam", she said. "That is how it seemed in the dream. I saw Shamal- in the dream, I saw him- walk towards the rock above our camp, towards where the Moon's light shone brightest. Towards the sound of the bell."

"Teacher- can you tell us what the dream means?" asked Adara's Father, Yasser.

"Mmmmm" said the Imam, stroking his black beard. "Mmmmm. Was there anything more to the dream, Adara?"

"No, Imam"

"And you searched everywhere the following morning, right? No sign at all of him? Nothing taken from the camp?"

"Nothing- just the clothes on his back" said Hamim. "And we searched the area, calling for him, many times. There was no trace at all."

Hamim paused then, a pained look overtaking his countenance. "No trace at all", he repeated.

The Imam seemed lost in thought for a moment, taking a another sip from his coffee. Then he said, "Yasser?"

"Yes, Teacher?" said the other man.

"Yasser...." he paused before continuing "My friend. My dear friend.." he trailed off, and then said, gravely:

"You need not seek your boy any further, I am afraid. Based upon all that I have heard today, we must assume that he has been spirited away by the Jinn. I am very sorry."

"No" said Yasser, quietly. "No- by The Creator, please no. He...he is my only son."

"I am sorry, Yasser" said the Imam "I am so very, very sorry. There are simply things that are beyond our control and understanding in this world. There is nothing to be done."

Adara looked up to see a veil of despair fall over the face of her Father. She looked the Imam in the eye and said:

"Nothing?" she questioned. "Why have we come here then? You are our wise teacher and protector! You tell us that we can do nothing now?"

"Adara" cautioned her Father. "Please, do not be unseemly. The Imam is trying to help us."

But he continued, addressing the Imam, who he had known since a boy, now by name: 

"Dhakir- are you certain that there is nothing to be done? Do you know at least that he is safe, if he is truly among the Jinn now?"

"It is..." started the Imam. "Well, many things are said. But no one knows, really. I am truly, deeply sorry, my friend. I do not know. He is, as always, in the hands of Allat, Mother of All."

Adara had broken into sobbing again, and her father had taken her trembling body into his arms. He stroked her head with his right hand- she, now the last of his issue remaining to him.

"Thank you for seeing us today, Dhakir" said Yasser, quietly. Hamim noted that his voice cracked then, just a little.

-----------------------

The next dawn broke cool and dry, the only sound beyond the cock's crow being the restlessness of the camels, and the whipping of an early wind; forecasting a blustery day ahead.

As usual, Adara awoke early and prepared breakfast for her Father. She was to go to the well and the market that day and, also as usual, Hamim was to go with her as well- as her helper and protector.

As they set upon the road, however, she said to Hamim:

"Let us go north first, to see Lacan."

Now, the man called Lacan was an old man, blind in one eye, who was known as a hermit (though nowadays he lived with a young ward, said to be his nephew). He was also a scribe, and known to be scholar; very learned, it was said - maybe as much as the Imam himself.

It was also whispered in low tones- usually among the older folk- that he was not a scribe and a scholar only; it was murmured among those that murmur that he was also Magi- a wizard!

Hamim looked over at Adara, but she would not meet his gaze.

"Mistress" he said, imploring.

"I won't give up on him, Hamim. I won't!" she said, still facing forward. "A thousand Imams can tell me a thousand times no first. I will find him, if it takes all my life to do so."

Life had taught Hamim humility, and the futility of arguing with his Mistress when her mind was set to a task. So he simply said to her:

"Very well, but please cover your face; the wind is moving the sand much today."

---------------------------

End Part 2
Continued in Part 3
Part 1
Part 4

Story Time: Hall of the Mountain Lord pt 1

I think that at some level every GM imagines himself or herself a writer (which maybe should be the subject of another article...). If this is true, then this poster certainly is no exception.  

Submitted for your enjoyment is part one of my short story-in-progress, The Hall of The Mountain Lord.

It is said that in the days before the Prophetess - Peace Be Upon Her Name - that in the city of Ur there was a scholar that kept a daemon which he had trapped - or at the very least, had become trapped - within a bottle. 

Now this scholar had a young apprentice, whom he had sternly instructed never to speak to this daemon, lest the creature lead him into peril. 

But the apprentice, being a young man and inherently curious- why become a scholar otherwise?- eventually ignored his master's order and began conversing with the creature whenever his master was away. 

This daemon told the young man of all sorts of wonders- of midworld before The Fall, of the mirror world of the spirits, and of the jinn, marid, dragons(!), and of all manner of beasts common and uncommon throughout the worlds. 

The young man thrilled to the tiny creature's many tales and anecdotes. One day, he asked the daemon: 

"What is it like living only within a bottle?" 

To which the daemon replied, shrugging it's tiny shoulders: 

"One has to live somewhere, I suppose." 

"So then- have you always lived in a bottle?" asked the young scholar. 

"Oh no!" said the daemon. "No, young one. I have seen many worlds, and much of yours as well."

"I have wondered at the halls of the Ymir; vast and forbidding- I have gazed upon the sunrise from atop the great ziggurat- now destroyed- called Etemnananki. I have been to the very depths of hell- and felt the cold, cold - oh-so very cold!- touch of the Black Flame within. I have seen generations of your own kind pass in both wisdom and folly."

"I have done and seen so very much, my companion, before you have found me here." 

The youth stood in silence for a moment; then he spoke, in tones of awe:  

"You have been to so many places, and seen so many things, little daemon. Where as I have barely been outside the walls of this city." 

"Well," asked the daemon "then what can I tell you about living within a bottle that you do not already know?"

- From the 1001 Tales, library of Madinat as-Salam

 

Hall of The Mountain Lord

by Michael Lindsey

The sun was starting to set over the Zagros Mountains to the east, when Hamim suggested that they make camp in the shadow of a rocky hill.

Hamim was but a servant of her household; but Adara, his young mistress, had come to trust in his cautious ways. Plus, she was traveling with her little brother Shamal, and the day's journey had clearly been taxing on his young form.

So they broke and set up their tents (Adara and Shamal each had their own tent- even though brother and sister, a boy and girl would not share a tent). Hamim, as usual, was to sleep beneath the stars.

Hamim cooked them their supper- simple rice with a hint of butter, very lightly spiced for flavor, and brewing a pot of chai as well- a veritable feast in the wilderness. All three youngsters ate to their fill with relish.

Adara sipped the hot chai slowly; enjoying the strong, spicy flavor. She had just recently reached her 15th year; marriage-age, by any estimation - but her father had not found any favor with the suitors that had reached his tent, at least thus far.

But she was a lovely girl; her skin fair, and without blemish. Although her habib covered her long, luxurious black head of hair, her dark eyes and her lovely mouth could be seen by all who gazed upon her.

For his part, her younger brother Shamal shared her beauty, but in boyish form; he was now just in his 11th year, and had the mixture of uncertainty and rambunctiousness common to most boys his age. Regardless of any faults he might have, Adara adored the boy above all of the jewels in all of the Earth.

Hamim was sixteen, and had the gangliness of boy who had grown very tall, very fast. He himself was of dark complexion with light brown eyes and a thin mouth, which seemed locked into a permanent frown. Ever present with him was his shepherd's staff, which he used as both a tool and a walking stick. Somehow, the staff and his demeanor seemed to give him a certain authority that belied his station.

The three ate in silence, only the sound of their feasting rising above the crackling of the fire. The rich dinner and the drink had given life back to Shamal, it seemed; for after their meal was finished, and as the moon rose into the sky, he said unto Hamim:

"Hamim- let's fight!"

He continued, "I can be Antarah ibn Shaddad, and you can be a wicked Ifrit!"

"Young Master" said Hamim, "We have had a long journey. Perhaps it would be better if we all would rest?"

Then Adara suggested: "Maybe Hamim should be the brave warrior, and you the Ifrit instead?"

Shamal frowned, his full little lips making a perfect pout, and replied: "I want to be Antarah ibn Shaddad! Fight me Hamim!"

Hamim sighed, and said: "Very well. Grab a stick- but be careful. This is just for pretend."

"OK!" said the boy, with enthusiasm. He grabbed a stick from their pack that seemed suitable; light enough to wield, and it made a satisfying 'swish' sound when he swung it forcefully through the air.

Hamim held his staff in the defending position, waiting for the boy to make the first move. Shamal, however, would have none of this, and declared:

"You are the villain- you have to attack first!"

Hamim swung the stick with speed, but carefully telegraphed the blow so that his young opponent could easily defend against it. Shamal blocked the faux-attack, and shouted:

"I see that you attack me, foul beast! Prepare thyself for my vengeance!"

Shamal began swinging his stick swiftly, wildly - Hamim blocking every strike with minimal effort. Seeing an opening, Hamim struck the boy, lightly- so light that it could barely be felt- on his left arm.

Shamal cried out: "Foul, foul, treacherous creature! Thou hast wounded me; but I shall best thee still!"

Shamal then began a full assault, lashing out with full force; blow after blow being blocked by Hamim's skilled staff. This seemed to only anger his youthful rival, and Shamal resorted to swift and random hits; now high, now low, now in Hamim's midsection.

At last, Hamim blocked one of Shamal's attempted assaults; but Shamal's polished wooden staff slipped past the block, and struck Hamim in the face; hard. Shamal looked at Hamim in shock and awe for a moment- then a warm trickle of blood began to run down Hamim's cheek.

"Oh!" said Adara, seeing that Hamim had been struck. Then she saw the blood.

"My word!" swore Adara, unwrapping the scarf that she wore upon her neck, and pressing it against Hamim's now bleeding cheek. "Shamal, what have you done?"

Shamal stood now silent, frozen in place with the stick still in his hand.

"My lady" said Hamim, blushing beneath his dark pallor as Adara, his mistress, stood so close- her hand upon his cheek - "this is nothing. Please..."

"Shamal!" said Adara, "Apologize to Hamim! Is this how you treat a servant of our house, who has done us no wrong?"

Shamal stood still -frozen, but tears began to roll down his plump cheeks. "I didn't mean to... we were playing..." he said.

"Playing?" she asked "I saw you- you wanted to strike Hamim! This is not how we have raised you, brother."

"I'm..." the boy began blubbering now in earnest. "I'm sorry! We were playing! It was an accident!"

"Milady" said Hamim, taking the scarf from Adara's hand, the blood still in his face, her scarf now dyed red with the same. "I will be fine. Please- see the young master to bed. I will treat this little, minor wound myself. Thank you for your kindness; I am hardly worthy of it."

"No- thank you Hamim" said Adara. She touched her servant, briefly, but tenderly, on his shoulder. "Please do take care of your wound."

Then to Shamal she said: "Brother- let's see you to bed now. We have had a long day." She then kissed the young boy on his forehead, and watched as he made his way to his little tent, and hopefully soon after - slumber.

Adara asked after Hamim, who again insisted that all was well, while holding a rugged cloth to his face to soak up the blood from the still weeping gash.

"Please- do take your rest, milady" he insisted. "I myself cannot sleep until I know that you are also in the land of nod. Tomorrow we must start out early, before the heat of the day is upon us", he reminded.

"Alright" said Adara. "Thank you, Hamim."

"You embarrass me" said Hamim, truthfully. "Please rest well." He then saw her to her tent, careful not to gaze upon her as she entered. He lowered the flap behind her, and then walked back to the fire.

When he was sure that the bleeding had finally stopped, he crawled into his own bedroll and fell asleep beneath the stars.

-------------------

Shamal heard the tinkling of a bell.

He was sure that's what it was; although he was in darkness, and the sound was heard from so very far away, it was clearly a bell. A bell that he was meant to hear.

Rubbing his sleep-crusted eyes, Shamal emerged from his tent. The moon was full in the sky; illuminating the desert with a bluish light. Shamal then looked upon the face of the moon itself; so bright and beautiful in the sky. The Imam taught that this was the manifestation of Destruction; Shamal wasn't sure about that, really. He thought that the Moon was very lovely, himself.

He looked over the horizon. Somehow, even asleep and in darkness, he had known what was the source of the sound. The rock, over yonder; standing like a temple- like some primitive mosque- in the moonlight.

The bell tinkled again in the distance- calling him, summoning him over. The sound was- it was- like the moonlight itself? Shamal could not describe it, even if asked to do so. He looked over at his sister's tent, at Hamim's bedroll, looking like just a clump of cloth beneath the stars. Clearly neither one had heard the call. It was for he alone.

Again the sound! He felt it in his breast, if not in his ears. Like the Call to Prayer, but stronger; pre-verbal.

The light of the moon marked the path. He set out in the cool night air towards the rock, towards the summoning tinkle.

Climbing now- climbing over the rocks, over the sand, over every minor barrier - following the tone of the bell; louder and louder still it rang.

He now stood atop the embankment and looked back towards the camp, now yards away; the campfire a fading, a flickering light in the distance. He thought of his sister now, and a little pain formed in his heart. He knew not why.

Then he turned about. The moon seemed to make a line in the rock- to form a path- and a door appeared before him; a door of moonlight, pale and blue and mysterious.

And still the bell rang; it's source now obvious; it rang now from within the stone itself. Beyond the glowing door.

He looked back toward's the camp, one last time. He thought of Hamim; serious, bloody. And his sister- so beautiful- and so angry.

The bell continued to ring, impatient. Shamal walked towards the light.

-------------------------------------
End Part 1
Continued in Part 2
Part 3
Part 4