Spes Magna Games

One of the elements of an effective horror story is a sympathetic protagonist. The person beleaguered by the Forces of Evil needs to be a sort of person that the audience wants to prevail. For example of what I’m not talking about, consider the foul-mouthed crybabies in The Blair Witch Project. Even before the terror started, I was anticipating the student filmmakers’ demises. If you write a horror story, and the audience (in this case me) ends up rooting for the Forces of Evil, I feel as if you’ve perhaps missed something important.*

In contrast (and, yes, it’s not really a horror film), consider 1970’s Airport. Most of the film’s running time is spent not on the disaster but rather focuses on the hopes, dream, conflicts, and disappointments of the ensemble cast. By the time the bomber (Van Heflin in his final film role) jumps into action, the audience has been given plenty of reasons to not want the villain to succeed. The characters threatened are sympathetic, even while they are not without their flaws.

When designing a scenario for a horror RPG session, there’s plenty of good advice out there. (See, for example, “Horror in Roleplaying” by Ernest Mueller.) Some of this advice talks about how to use the players’ investment in their characters as a spur to create dread. In other words, the PCs are sympathetic characters that the audience (meaning the players) wants to succeed. As the scenario’s designer and GM, I also need to keep in mind the need for sympathetic NPCs. The horror story I’m designing and asking my players to participate in needs to have an ensemble cast featuring more than just the Forces of Evil and miscellaneous stock characters.

Many Call of Cthulhu scenarios handle this task admirably by providing the GM with an assortment of NPCs, some good, some useful, and others evil. Time is then given in the scenario for the players’ characters to encounter and interact with these NPCs, thus modeling the movie format of Airport: introduce the main actors so that the audience’s opinions and expectations for their roles can be established.

Should the Forces of Evil kill The Blair Witch Project‘s Heather Donohue? Yes, please. Should the Forces of Evil kill Airport‘s Helen Hayes? Never! What’s the difference between the two ladies? Helen Hayes portrays a sympathetic character that the audience wants to live.

*Of course, this might just say a whole lot more about me and my tolerance for foul-mouthed crybabies.

Tags: adventure design, horror

Stars Without Number has a nice little skill system. A character gets skills based on background package (related to the PC’s background) and training background (related to the PC’s class). Additional skills, or higher levels with previous skills, are acquired during level advancement via skill points. The number of points required to purchase the next level in a skill increases with skill level, and the maximum skill level is capped by PC level.

Skill checks are made by rolling 2d6, adding the relevant skill’s level and appropriate attribute modifier. Skills aren’t explicitly tied to a specific attribute. An untrained skill check suffers a -1 penalty. The easiest skill checks are usually difficulty 6, and challenging skill checks face difficulties of 10 or higher.

Now, all of that said, there are two things about SWN’s skill system I don’t like:

1. The use of skill points to purchase skills.

2. PCs having a specific list of skills with associated ranks.

Explaining the first point is easy: It’s more bookkeeping, and I dislike bookkeeping. That’s pretty much it. I don’t think skill points are bad or wrong or inferior. I just don’t like there being yet another group of points that have to be accounted for.

The second point requires more explanation; so, here goes.

In my experience (emphasis: my experience), when a player sees a list of skills on a character sheet, two things pop up:

1. That list of skills are the only skills the character can use.

2. Therefore, the player limits his PC’s actions to the skill list on the character sheet.

When these two things pop up with too many players, a sort of critical mass is reached that can result in party paralysis. “Gosh! None of us have that skill. How are we supposed to succeed? This adventure sucks!” Not only does this break immersion in the game, it’s also just plain irritating. I like for the PCs in my games to be the heroes, and heroes don’t whine about how the adventure sucks. Heroes grit their teeth, suck it up, and drive on.

Here’s what I want to do with SWN instead of the core-rules way of doing things. First, I want to use the “You Lack Skills” rules presented in the Skill Checks section of the core rules. This means each PC has a skill check bonus equal to +1, +1 more for every three levels of experience, whenever attempting any activity that the player can reasonably explain as part of the PC’s background and training packages.

I’m thinking this approach gets rid of both of the things I dislike about SWN’s skill system.

I’ve also been struck by an idea Erik Tenkar mentioned in this blogpost. Erik wrote, “I’ve got some tweaking to work on with this, such as the first time a Natural 20 is rolled in a certain circumstance (picking a lock, finding tracks or swimming a turbulent river and the like) I’m going to give the PC a + 1 to that particular circumstance as a permanent bonus.” This idea has some sweetness. Modified for 2d6, the bonus could come up on an 11-12 (assuming success, for about an 8% chance of getting the bonus) or only on a 12 (for about a 3% chance of getting the bonus).

That make sense?

Tags: skill checks, skills, Stars Without Number

Matt Jackson over at Lapsus Calumni is running a monster-making contest focusing on the fellow in the picture to the right. The best entry receives a March to June subscription to Monsters By Email. Since I love contests and monsters, how could I pass this one up?

Syrlōps
Hit Dice: 6+6
Armor Class: 3 [16]
Attacks: 2 fists (1d6), 1 tail (1d8+2)
Saving Throw: 11
Special: Half-damage from blunt and piercing weapons, magical chords
Move: 12
Alignment: Neutrality
Challenge Level/XP: 8/800

A syrlōps (plural syrlōpes) is a bizarre mixture of humanoid and plant. It stands taller and broader than even the largest human, although it tends to lurch about in a near crouch, moving sometimes on all fours. Its body is covered with a conglomeration of bark, knotted roots, leaves, hair-like moss, and corded muscles. This tough composite of tissues is particularly resistant to weapons that pierce or crush (such as arrows and maces). In combat, a syrlōps fights with punishing blows from its powerful fists and tail.

The most outstanding feature of a syrlōps’s body are the twin rows of tube-like structures that grow from its hunched shoulders down its back. After a prodigious inhalation, a syrlōps can force air through these structures to create musical tones over a range of three octaves and in an impressive array of combinations, producing harmonies to rival those a woodwind virtuoso. What’s more, once per round at will, a syrlōps can pipe magical chords to produce any of the following effects: charm monster, fear, sleep, or speak with plants.

Syrlōpes dwell only in the most primeval of forests and jungles. They are private, territorial creatures who resent intruders, except for non-evil fey creatures, whom the syrlōpes count as allies. Syrlōpes live in well-camouflaged villages in areas that provide exposure to sunlight and access to fresh water. Nixies, pixies, and sprites often dwell in or near these villages, helping protect the dwellings from marauders and trespassers. Syrlōpes have male and female genders, and they marry and raise offspring, which are hatched from large, nut-like pods. Both male and female syrlōpes nurse the young with a sap exuded by their root-like fingers. Weaned syrlōpes feed on sunlight, water, and a variety of roots, tubers, and flowers. Syrlōpes live for centuries, and they speak the language of the fey. They may also communicate with each other over great distances by means of songs loudly played.

Tags: Lapsus Calumni, monsters, Monsters by Email, Swords & Wizardry

Well, The Grand Original Map Contest is over, and the winners have been announced. Congrats to everyone who participated, and a huge thanks to the folks who ran the contest.

I’ve put together a link list of the entries that I was able to find links for. If there’s something I’ve missed or messed up, shoot me an email or whatever, and I’ll edit as needed.

* The Bone Blade by David Przybyla
* Torvek’s Tower at Forrest for the Trees
* A Matter of Justice by Dave Gerard
* Rarefied Blood, Dreaming in Darkness, Philosopher Ogres, and The Kingmaker Stone by Andrew Shields
* Beneath the Windowless Tower by John
* The Guard of the Heart of the Romance of the Dead
* The Prison of the Magic Square
* The Quarrymen by Duncan McPhedran
* The Mellified Men by Ian Coakley
* Escape from Groncho

Here are my two entries:

* River’s Bend Poets Inn
* The Mountain Fastness of the Vermillion Coenobites

And here are would-have-been entries if the deadline hadn’t been missed:

* The Hobgoblin Queen’s Birthday: Part One and Part Two
* New Dawn Combine’s Last & Present Days

Enjoy!

Tags: The Grand Original Map Contest