Spes Magna Games

My son Giant Boy and I watched 28 Days Later a few nights ago. This film often gets lumped in the zombie genre, but it’s not really a zombie movie (but it is survival horror, which includes zombie pics). The infected in 28DL aren’t zombies. They’re people driven into a seemingly permanent psychotic frenzy by some sort of biological experiment accidentally released from an animal testing facility at Cambridge.

The day after we watched 28DL, Giant Boy said, “Patermaximus, might we write some sort of zombie horror apocalypse adventure?”

I said, “I dunno. I guess.”

And so here we are, with me writing this and you reading it.

The first question Giant Boy insisted we answer was what game system to use. The Pathfinder Roleplaying Game doesn’t seem a good fit. Fireball-lobbing wizards, vital-striking fighters, and disease-curing clerics don’t look they’d work well in the survival horror genre. Giant Boy suggested Mutants & Masterminds, but that is a math-intensive game when it comes to scenario design. Other suggestions included True 20 (which I have in unprinted PDF format but little experience with) and Savage Worlds (which I have only the short, free test drive PDF). Obviously, there are other systems specifically written for horror games. There’s even a zombie horror RPG, All Flesh Must Be Eaten (which I own none of and don’t feel like purchasing).

Watching me poo poo one game system after another, Giant Boy said, “Patermaximus, which system shall we use if we use none of those?”

Good question. One thing I enjoy is taking a game system and making it do things it wasn’t necessarily designed to do. I also like blending genres, which my players in Man Day Adventures will soon discover. (Muahaha!) As I pondered Giant Boy’s question, I thought these thoughts:

“The system needs to be something simple. Rules lite seems better than rules heavy for this sort of game.”

“The system needs to be something I already have a copy of.”

“The system needs to be something decidedly not intended for survival horror.”

One RPG kept pressing itself to the forefront of my brain each time I asked these questions. Yes, that’s right. Beyond Belief Games’ Go Fer Yer Gun!. What could be cooler than a blending of 28DL with cowboys and Indians? (Yes, yes, I know about Deadlands, but I’m not going for the weird west).

With that decision out of the way, it was time to brainstorm about my zombies. Foremost, I don’t want slow-moving, brain-eating undead. I mean, I love George Romero as much as any red-blooded American boy, but Romeroid zombies just seem so typical nowadays. 28DL was intense because its zombies aren’t zombies, and they’re fast and relentless. I mean, really fast. Those raging maniacs could windsprint like nobody’s business even after they were set on fire. On top of their speed and relentlessness, 28DL “zombies” didn’t have to bite you to infect you. They could projectile vomit blood at you instead. They could splatter on you when someone hacks them with a machete. They were a bloodborne pathogens worst-case scenario on steroids. As Frank (the most affecting and best acted character in 28DL as portrayed by Brendan Gleeson) demonstrated, even a single drop of blood from one of the infected after death could turn a loving father into a frothing-at-the-mouth killer in a matter of seconds.

Now that’s scary.

So, now I had the beginnings of a “zombie” checklist:

1. They’re not really zombies. They’re infected by a super-virus.
2. They’re jacked up on adrenaline and homicidally psychotic.

After this, my mind wandered toward other source material. You know how zombies eat brains? Do you know why zombies eat brains? It was explained in The Return of the Living Dead. Zombies eat brains because they’re in constant pain from decomposition, and brains act as a sort of anesthetic. I also recalled the two of Guillermo del Toro and Chuck Hogan’s novels in their Strain Trilogy (which reminds me that I still haven’t read the third installment). Those books are about vampires, but not Bela Lugosi vampires. Instead, Strain vampires are infected with a bizarre parasite that transforms the host’s entire physiology in grotesque, horrifying ways.

Two more things for the checklist:

3. Motivation for cannibalism.
4. Physical changes caused by virus.

That looked like a good start, and so I took Giant Boy’s ubiquitous pad of drawing paper away from him while we waited for Mrs. Chance to get done at work. I jotted down some notes about traits of the infected:

Trait 1: The host’s lymph nodes swell into buboes. These buboes fill with a mixture of blood, pus, and live virus. Not only can they pop if roughly handled, the virus changes the host’s body so that the host can vent its buboes’ contents via the mouth and nose.

Trait 2: The infected do not respirate the way humans do. Their lungs do not serve any particular purpose. More physiological changes, however, give an infected the ability to voluntarily control its thoracic diaphragm. By contracting or relaxing this muscle, an infected can inhale or exhale, permitting it produce limited vocalizations. The infected cannot speak, except perhaps single syllable words that would be more hissed than articulated, but they can growl, moan, et cetera.

Trait 3: Further physiological changes alter bone structure and density. The proximal and distal phalanges fuse (N.B. limited finger dexterity), and the fused bones grows into something very much like a spike. Since the bones are denser as a whole, the infected is more durable and less suspectible to injury.

Trait 4: The infected’s brain changes as well. It enters a hyper-adrenaline state which constantly floods the infected’s body with this powerful hormone. At the same time, the nervous system is less sensitive to pain and fatigue.

Trait 5: The infected kill and eat the non-infected because uninfected human tissues contain a variety of hormones which nourish the virus. Chief among the hormones that the infected crave are arenaline and cortisol, the hormones that trigger the flight-or-fight response.

As Giant Boy read this over my shoulder (which I find annoying but tolerate because I’m so loveable), I could hear him shuddering. I think this first draft of “zombie” traits is a good start for an Old West survival horror scenario.

Next post, I’ll turn the spotlight onto the player characters. Since this looks like the sort of setting that lends itself to high levels of PC death, I need to implement some sort of “survival of the fittest” considerations that keeps the threat of death very real for characters but also makes it easy to keep the players involved in the game after their heroes get eaten.

Tags: 28 Days Later, adventure design, horror, undead

How many ways are their to motivate players? Well, if we’re to believe cliches, there are two: the carrot and the stick. Since today is C, I’m going to talk about the carrot. I know from years of teaching that a great way to get students invested in learning is to give them choices about how they want to show what they’ve learned. So, when we got done reading Don Quixote, my students didn’t have a single, mandatory assignment, but instead had their choice of one out of five or six different assignments. One of my students produced the delightful boardgame shown in the picture to the right as her project.

Borrowing an idea from Gnome Stew, you the GM can give your players choices in order to foster a greater sense of investment in your game. Give each player four index cards and about a week’s time. Ask them to write on each index card their ideas about what they’d like to encounter in the current campaign, dividing those likes into four categories: Enemy, Friend, Setting, and Reward. Let them be as vague or as specific as they’d like, as long as the idea fits on an index card. Let your players know that the ideas on the cards don’t need to be related to each other, although they could be. The cards also don’t need to be related to the player’s own character. Why suggest a reward for your character when you can suggest that a fellow player’s character receive the honor of an Amazonian queen asking for his hand in marriage?

Enemy: This could be something as simple as scrawling “ogres” on the card, or as involved as requesting the existence of a nefarious organization of wicked psions who masquerade as benevolent seekers of enlightenment. These cards are your players’ chance to get some of their favorite bad guys into game play, an option that could be especially attractive to folks who play rangers.

Friend: The PCs need more than just enemies. They should also have an assortment of friends, allies, and supporters, garnered during their adventures as well as part of their respective backgrounds. These friends can be valuable sources of aid and information, as well fodder for plot hooks.

Setting: A memorable setting can be a great boon for an encounter, an adventure, and even an entire campaign. Odds are good your players have always wanted to explore or survive some exotic place. I know I’ve always wanted to play through a high-action brawl atop a maze of unstable catwalks that collapse above a rumbling pool of magma.

Reward: Here’s your players’ chance to think outside the treasure box if they want. Forget yet another magic sword or a bag full of platinum. How about a grant of land accompanied by knighthood? Maybe free room and board for life at a famous tavern would be something worth having? A PC could somehow earn a reward that would otherwise be difficult to provide via the rules-as-written. I remember way back in 1E days when my dwarf fighter/thief acquired the ability to speak with wolves. Why? Because it was cool!

Best of all, encourage the players to not discuss their cards with each other. That way, as each requested element is brought into play, most of the players will be surprised by the turn of events. Imagine the limitless possibilities:

Terry: “The Amazon queen asked me what?”

Mark the GM: “For your hand in marriage before the assembled court of the Warrior Women. An expectant hush has fallen across the entire banquet hall. What do you do?”

Terry: “Wes, why are you giggling? Was this your idea?”

Tags: A to Z, adventure design, game play

(First published in Game Geek 10)

Let’s eavesdrop on a depressingly common Internet conversation:

First DM: My player’s PC has such-and-such class feature that is broken. What should I do?
Second DM: Just design your scenarios so that he can’t use the class feature. Problem solved.

Sound familiar? If so, and you’re a player, pass this article to the offending DM. If you are the offending DM, then pay careful attention, because the advice below might just keep your players from killing you and taking your stuff.

Favored Enemy, or How to Avoid Encountering Certain Creatures Ever Again

Let’s focus on one specific class feature: the ranger’s favored enemy. This class feature is frequently maligned because its bonuses are situational. Either you’re facing your ranger’s favored enemy and get the bonuses, or else you aren’t and you don’t. The DM gets to decide when your ranger gets to benefit from one of his defining class features.

Too often, a ranger’s favored enemies are much more like a list of creatures that the party won’t ever encounter. Take favored enemy (undead) at 1st-level, and you’ll never encounter an undead monster. Instead, orcs regularly mob the adventurers. Your ranger reaches 5th level and takes favored enemy (orc). From that point on, orcs are scarcer than hen’s teeth. Et cetera, ad nauseum.

“Well,” says the DM, “orcs and undead just aren’t challenging because you get so many bonuses against them. My job as DM is make sure the adventures are challenging.”

The best initial response to this is a sneer. As William Paley asked, “Who can refute a sneer?” After that, you can point out a few uncomfortable truths, starting with the one immediately below.

Class Features Aren’t Broken; You’re DMing Skills Are

This applies almost no matter what the class features. There is almost always no good reason to nix characters’ abilities. If you’re running a murder investigation, it’s bad form to rule that divination spells don’t work. Yes, that single speak with dead could very well bring the investigation to a quick end. So be it. In a similar vein, when the party tracks down the evil murderer, it’d be equally bad form for the paladin’s smite evil power to not work against him.

Characters’ abilities, feats, class features, et cetera, are the tools the players get to use to overcome the challenges the DM presents. Your players chose to play the characters they’re playing because they want to use those tools. That means that you’re not allowed to take those tools away without a very good and rare reason.

Most of the time, your players should count on getting to use those tools. Back to our ranger whose favored enemies are orcs and the undead. If that ranger isn’t encountering orcs and/or undead at least 50% of the time, then you need to stop and examine the adventures your running. Your ranger’s player deserves the opportunity to roleplay his ranger’s orc/undead-hate and to enjoy the bonuses the character gets against orcs and undead.

Letting the Characters Shine

Next time you’re prepping for your game, take stock of your players’ characters. What are those characters’ strengths in terms of feats, class features, skills, and so forth? Jot down at least one strength per character. Then, include some way for each character to revel in their respective strengths during the adventure. Pretend you’ve done what I just advised you to do, and this is what you came up with:

The Ranger: Favored enemy (undead).
The Wizard: Maxed out ranks in Linguistics.
The Cleric: Maxed out ranks in Knowledge (religion).
The Rogue: Just acquired slippers of spider climbing.

Here’re some sample challenges:

The Ranger: The BBEG is protected by a platoon of plague zombies.
The Wizard: The BBEG and its minions communicate via an ancient dialect of the Dark Tongue.
The Cleric: The BBEG and its minions are engaged in a complicated demon-summoning ritual.
The Rogue: The BBEG occupies a floating dais closer to the ceiling than the floor.

During the final battle against the BBEG, the ranger gets to have a field day mowing through the plague zombies. The wizard gets to make Linguistic checks to accurately understand the BBEG’s orders to its minions. The cleric not only gets to channel positive energy, but her keen insights provide the best way to disrupt the demon-summoning ritual. The rogue can most easily get to the floating dais. Everyone gets to use a character feature to contribute to the BBEG’s demise.

But Shouldn’t I Negate Characters’ Abilities at Least Some Time?

Yes, especially when dealing with intelligent enemies who’re expecting the sort of trouble the characters provide. The trick is to make the negation both reasonable and a challenge in itself.

For example, an undead BBEG who knows it’s being hunted by an undead-slaying ranger might recruit non-undead minions. If it’s sufficiently powerful, it might also be worried about enemies who can scry and teleport. There are reasonable defenses against both of these capabilities as well.

What is bad form, however, is to design adventures that negate character abilities in such a way as to railroad the players. Negating character abilities should paradoxically lead to greater variety in player tactics as those players seek ways to overcome the challenges presented by not being able to rely on their full arsenal.

Consider the undead BBEG again. It knows that it’s likely to face adventurers capable of teleporting. Not wanting enemies to show up at will in its lair, it employs an 11th-level cleric to ward key areas with forbiddance. Discovering the area is warded isn’t too difficult. Adventurers just need to try (and fail) to teleport into the lair. After this discovery, what choices do the characters have?

Well, they can just lump it and fight their way in the hard way. Or, better yet, they can discover that the BBEG’s cleric spends time away from the lair. This gives the characters the chance to nab the cleric and discover the password that permits them to enter the warded area without damage. Also, the characters might coerce the cleric into revealing that there is an area not warded against teleport within the lair proper. The BBEG uses this secret area for its own movement via planar means. Thus, after a side adventure, the characters have not only earned more experience, they’ve defeated one of the BBEG’s key minions and discovered a possible means of taking the BBEG by surprise.

Best of all, the ranger still gets to unleash his undead-slaying prowess.

Tags: adventure design, Game Geek

A column I wrote for Game Geek 9:

Have you watched TV lately? If so, you’ve undoubtedly noticed that in media res is all the rage. For example, check out any episode of The Good Guys on Hulu. The beginning of each episode isn’t necessarily the beginning of the story. It’s usually nearer the end of the plot, and most of the episode takes you back to the events as they unfolded leading up to the opening scene.

In media res hooks the viewer right away. It sets up an exciting situation to generate interest in what led up to that point in time. I am compelled to watch the entire episode of The Good Guys because I want to find out how Jack and Dan are going to survive the exploding dynamite while pinned down by enemy gunfire inside the storage container.

Just as in media res hooks the viewer, it can also hook the player when used in an adventure. Care must be exercised, however. The type of in media res used in many television shows, for example, often won’t work in an RPG scenario. This is because most of the episode is an extended flashback, and flashbacks in an adventure can be railroad tracks that rob players of meaningful choices.

For an example of in media res that would work in an adventure, consider the classic Thundarr the Barbarian episode “The Prophecy of Peril”. At the beginning of this episode, Thundarr, Ariel, and Ookla engage in a pitched battle against the wizard Vashtar’s hench-robots. Our heroes have stolen a magical gem from Vashtar and are trying to escape his citadel. Thanks to some timely exposition from Vashtar, we learn that the gem holds the secret to defeating him, and that this is why Thundarr and company have taken the gem. Thundarr, Ariel, and Ookla escape Vashtar, and then the trio spend the rest of the episode acting on the plot hook the gem represents.

This is a type of in media res that can work in an RPG scenario. Let’s break the idea down into some necessary components.

The Ultimate Goal

Every adventure has some sort of terminal objective. The PCs have a goal they wish to reach. They want to reveal the prince as a traitor. They seek the fabled tome of knowledge. The stars are ready to align and unleash the Old Ones unless the Elder Sign is affixed to some dread portal. When designing an in media res adventure, determine the ultimate goal and at least one step crucial to meeting it that can be combined with an action scene. Here’re some examples expanding on the previous three sample ultimate goals.

Reveal the Traitor: The PCs start the adventure in shackles in the rolling brig of a galley bound for an infamous slave port. Fortunately, one PC has a handy means of escape, such as a hidden lockpick. The PCs must free themselves, overcome the villains on the galley, and return to civilization.

Find the Tome of Knowledge: The PCs have just recovered a piece of an ancient map leading to the lost ruins in which the tome lies hidden. Unfortunately, their exit has just been detected by the feral man-apes that guard the map’s location.

Stop the Old Ones: The PCs sit in a stately study about to meet a famed scholar who can help them learn the location of the Elder Sign. The scholar enters the study when deranged cultists burst in through the skylights.

Exposition

After the initial conflict is resolved, it’s time to fill in the players. The exposition portion is the PC background material that happened “off-camera” and led up to the opening conflict. It should include all of the information the PCs would have reasonably had that led them to the precarious position in which they just found themselves. For example:

Reveal the Traitor: The PCs had been on their way to meet a lady-in-waiting believed to have evidence of the prince’s perfidy. When the PCs arrived at the rendezvous in the upstairs private room of an inn, they found not the lady, but an ambush by a press gang. The PCs were overpowered and woke up in the hold of a slave galley. The PCs must act quickly. The lady said she had evidence that the prince planned to imprison his recently deceased brother’s heirs as the first step to seizing the throne.

Find the Tome of Knowledge: The PCs were hired by the Golden Key Scholars to retrieve the tome of knowledge. A fell plague sweeps the land, caused by some evil sorcery. The tome of knowledge holds the secrets to stopping the plague. The PCs were given one piece of an ancient map that led them to a ruined library deep in feral man-ape territory. Now with the second map piece, the PCs have learned the last known resting place of the tome.

Stop the Old Ones: The PCs recently rescued a maiden from the clutches of sinister cultists. Evidence on site revealed that the cultists were part of a larger group seeking to unleash an unspeakable evil. One of the PCs knew the famed scholar by reputation, and the heroes sought his advice. Once the PCs defeat the attackers, the meeting with the famed scholar can go on as planned, assuming the scholar lives.

Conflict & Resolution

Here’s where you run the bulk of the adventure just like you normally would. The PCs already have their plot hook and adventure background. Build on the events, villains, and hints contained in the opening scene and the exposition.

This sort of in media res technique works with nearly any type of campaign. Whether you’re running an epic adventure path, a one-shot module, or the ultimate sandbox, you can adjust your scenarios so that they start with an action scene.

Tags: adventure design, Game Geek