I’m writing a kind of overview of some role playing situations that your characters are likely to encounter based on your race, alignment, and class.
So...Earthmoon.
First off, the dnosaur is probably not going to be accpeted except in the most "anything goes" parts of large cities (places where they might sell animals like dinosaurs). Everywhere else in a city, the animal is likely to be confiscated by the authorities. The dinosaur's recption in rural areas is likely to be more violent. Farmers will probably not appreciate the presence of a large carnivorous and poisonous lizard near their livestock. Needless to say, walking around with such a lizard marks you for suspicion.
On the other hand, you are exalted, you golow with goodness. You are a holy paragon of righteousness whose mere presence makes evil uncomfortable and whose touch causes a physical reaction to evil. Some people will turn to you as a prophet of divinity beyond a priest or church. They may seek your absolution. Celestials, devas, and archons will think of you as an ally. You are marked with goodness beyond the simple confines of virtue but manifest it, instead, as a quintessential force. Most evil people will avoid you, or deal with you through intermediaries. Your presence anywhere near agencies that they control will cause them to become either cautious or downright aggressive. Earthly authority will see the authority that you wield as a threat.
Friday, December 28, 2007
common role playing situations- Gringulia
I’m writing a kind of overview of some role playing situations that your characters are likely to encounter based on your race, alignment, and class.
Gringulia will be persecuted in human society at the drop of a hat. Human civilization watches half-orcs waiting for them to do something that will justify rounding them up and killing them. That's always a danger for half orcs in Aversill. Larger cities are better but even there, in most large cities, there's a lawless ghetto where half orcs are expected to stay, and areas of the city where half orcs are refused admittance.
Gringulia, on her own, will be ostracized or even attacked. Her presence will sour reactions from humans against her friends and allies. Even the less civilized regions of human civilization will treat the half orc differently than they treat all other civilized races.
As a citizen, Gringulia can expect a certain elevation in respect especially in urban environments. She can own property. She is protected under Stumgort imperial law from aggressions by non-citizens, and is allowed to sue for imperial prosecution against those who break the law against her. How well such cases fair is another story of course, but at least, at that point, there's a possability of getting some kind of grudging justice.
Outside large urban areas, imperial citizenship carries less weight. In such cases, if the villagers are rounding up torches and pitch forks, it's time to move on.
Gringulia will be persecuted in human society at the drop of a hat. Human civilization watches half-orcs waiting for them to do something that will justify rounding them up and killing them. That's always a danger for half orcs in Aversill. Larger cities are better but even there, in most large cities, there's a lawless ghetto where half orcs are expected to stay, and areas of the city where half orcs are refused admittance.
Gringulia, on her own, will be ostracized or even attacked. Her presence will sour reactions from humans against her friends and allies. Even the less civilized regions of human civilization will treat the half orc differently than they treat all other civilized races.
As a citizen, Gringulia can expect a certain elevation in respect especially in urban environments. She can own property. She is protected under Stumgort imperial law from aggressions by non-citizens, and is allowed to sue for imperial prosecution against those who break the law against her. How well such cases fair is another story of course, but at least, at that point, there's a possability of getting some kind of grudging justice.
Outside large urban areas, imperial citizenship carries less weight. In such cases, if the villagers are rounding up torches and pitch forks, it's time to move on.
common role playing situations- Emord
I’m writing a kind of overview of some role playing situations that your characters are likely to encounter based on your race, alignment, and class.
Interestingly, the reace most like humans are dwarves. They’re obsessed with craftsmanship and gold. They believe in war and suffer from xenophobia…just like humans! Unfortunately, the xenophobia they share is also a force that drives them apart from other races. The dwarves see humans as a bumbling race content to leave on their leavings up at the surface. A human in a dwarf city is seen as a friendly diplomat from a country that could easily become an enemy. Dwarves living among humans often see human problems as trivial. They deign to deal with the surface dwellers only as needs be. Humans covet dwarves for their riches, for their secrets, and of course, for their military presence (the size of which is always an unknown factor for human governments). Human government desires military and trade pacts with dwarves. On occasion, such pacts are made, but never in perpetuity. Dwarves are shrewd.
On the other hand, the average human sees the average dwarf in the same way they’d see anyone else. They may expect more structural knowledge from a dwarf, but other than that, there isn’t a strong predetermined reaction. Humans have little problem accommodating dwarves living in their settlements. The reverse is not true except in extraordinarily rare circumstances, and even then there are stipulations.
For Nicki, the real role playing challenge will not be playing a dwarf but playing a lawful good cleric of Moradin. Moradin is the dwarven god of justice and war. He is devoted to finding the dark monstrosities of the world and ringing them out into the light where they can be dealt with. This is also the goal of his followers. That means that when Emord sees things amiss he MUST do something. That’s his religion. Plus, he’s lawful good which means that Emord must avoid deception and criminality as he attempt to help those around him/save the world.
This is not a “hey Emord, why don’t you leave the room for a second,” kind of situation. That’s just bad role playing. People who want to do sneaky stuff are going to have to be sneaky about it. Basically within the party, Emord’s going to have to be worked around lest the characters become adversarial towards each other. I repeat, if characters do stuff that is in opposition to Lawful Good, they should expect to have to deal with Emord. If he knows about what the characters are going to do before hand, he is likely to forbid them doing so. Asking Emord to give up his staunch ethics should be akin to asking Earthmoon to torture small animals for fun.
Emord may elicit a number of reactions from N.P.C.s. On one hand, he’s the cleric of a god of justice and war. On the other hand, it’s a dwarf god. Some humans will treat Emord as a roaming fighter of evil and professional do-gooder. For others, the prospect of a dwarf telling everybody what to do and claiming divine authority is intolerable. Keep in mind, humans worship Moradin as the father of the gods and as the god of craftsman. Humans have Kord for war, Pelor for Justice, and Heironeous for valor. They don’t understand Moradin as a god of these things and may not feel comfortable conceding to Emord on issues of orthodoxy (though some may…it depends heavily on the strength of the craft guilds and the proximity to dwarf kingdoms).
One advantage Emord has, as a dwarf and a cleric of Moradin, is that human authority will recognize Emord as an ambassador. He will, at the very least, be tolerated by human authority. They may be reticent to arrest or harass him (though his companions will probably not share this immunity).
Interestingly, the reace most like humans are dwarves. They’re obsessed with craftsmanship and gold. They believe in war and suffer from xenophobia…just like humans! Unfortunately, the xenophobia they share is also a force that drives them apart from other races. The dwarves see humans as a bumbling race content to leave on their leavings up at the surface. A human in a dwarf city is seen as a friendly diplomat from a country that could easily become an enemy. Dwarves living among humans often see human problems as trivial. They deign to deal with the surface dwellers only as needs be. Humans covet dwarves for their riches, for their secrets, and of course, for their military presence (the size of which is always an unknown factor for human governments). Human government desires military and trade pacts with dwarves. On occasion, such pacts are made, but never in perpetuity. Dwarves are shrewd.
On the other hand, the average human sees the average dwarf in the same way they’d see anyone else. They may expect more structural knowledge from a dwarf, but other than that, there isn’t a strong predetermined reaction. Humans have little problem accommodating dwarves living in their settlements. The reverse is not true except in extraordinarily rare circumstances, and even then there are stipulations.
For Nicki, the real role playing challenge will not be playing a dwarf but playing a lawful good cleric of Moradin. Moradin is the dwarven god of justice and war. He is devoted to finding the dark monstrosities of the world and ringing them out into the light where they can be dealt with. This is also the goal of his followers. That means that when Emord sees things amiss he MUST do something. That’s his religion. Plus, he’s lawful good which means that Emord must avoid deception and criminality as he attempt to help those around him/save the world.
This is not a “hey Emord, why don’t you leave the room for a second,” kind of situation. That’s just bad role playing. People who want to do sneaky stuff are going to have to be sneaky about it. Basically within the party, Emord’s going to have to be worked around lest the characters become adversarial towards each other. I repeat, if characters do stuff that is in opposition to Lawful Good, they should expect to have to deal with Emord. If he knows about what the characters are going to do before hand, he is likely to forbid them doing so. Asking Emord to give up his staunch ethics should be akin to asking Earthmoon to torture small animals for fun.
Emord may elicit a number of reactions from N.P.C.s. On one hand, he’s the cleric of a god of justice and war. On the other hand, it’s a dwarf god. Some humans will treat Emord as a roaming fighter of evil and professional do-gooder. For others, the prospect of a dwarf telling everybody what to do and claiming divine authority is intolerable. Keep in mind, humans worship Moradin as the father of the gods and as the god of craftsman. Humans have Kord for war, Pelor for Justice, and Heironeous for valor. They don’t understand Moradin as a god of these things and may not feel comfortable conceding to Emord on issues of orthodoxy (though some may…it depends heavily on the strength of the craft guilds and the proximity to dwarf kingdoms).
One advantage Emord has, as a dwarf and a cleric of Moradin, is that human authority will recognize Emord as an ambassador. He will, at the very least, be tolerated by human authority. They may be reticent to arrest or harass him (though his companions will probably not share this immunity).
common role playing situations- Neri and Feldon
I’m writing a kind of overview of some role playing situations that your characters are likely to encounter based on your race, alignment and class.
Elves are pretty much considered friendly by humans in Aversill—mainly by human authority who’ve had their bacon saved many a time by nice elf armies who’ve shown up with powerful magic and well trained archers. Essentially tha’s when humans like elves best…when they show up to help and then, afterwards, leave. When they stay behind and move in, human reactions towards elves changes a bit.
First of all, elves are stand-offish and foreign. They worship different gods, they don’t sleep, and most of them can do magic. What elves reside in human society never really feel welcome or at home. The reaction isn’t the prejudice that half-orcs face, it’s more like suspicion and superstition. Most humans believe that elves are naturally wizards and that the presence of elves alone can cause arcane problems that the elves, themselves, cannot help but attract. Storms, draughts, strange occurrences—all will be blamed on elves by some portion of the human population. But this same portion is likely to commit any real acts against the elves—they’re afraid of retaliation by cosmic forces to which they see elves belonging (or at least attracting).
Human government sees elves as indicative of problems or concerns that they know nothing about. This ignorance puts them at risk of not knowing how to solve the problems that arise—thus making them look like they are not in control. No Baron wants to consult the elvish community to find out what’s going on.
So, Neri, you all by yourself will probably be treated by humans with awe and respect, but also fear and suspicion. Civil authority may question elves for their opinion on some difficulties and then think them secretive for not saying all that they know (or all that the human authorities assume they should know). People think elves know secrets about nature, magic, the universe, etc., especially elves that actually are wizards. They may ask. They may be afraid to ask.
As far as lawless elves go, there is nothing scarier to humans. If elves represent arcane power that humans cannot comprehend and against which only elves can protect, then a lawless invites danger from unknown sources and offers no guarantee of protection when that danger manifests. Whatever stories humans have heard about “dark elves” they associate with chaotic and evil elves they’ve met. A chaotic elf can expect to be under some kind of surveillance there entire stay within a lawful human society (and afforded a great deal of respect in the more lawless areas of human society).
Elves are pretty much considered friendly by humans in Aversill—mainly by human authority who’ve had their bacon saved many a time by nice elf armies who’ve shown up with powerful magic and well trained archers. Essentially tha’s when humans like elves best…when they show up to help and then, afterwards, leave. When they stay behind and move in, human reactions towards elves changes a bit.
First of all, elves are stand-offish and foreign. They worship different gods, they don’t sleep, and most of them can do magic. What elves reside in human society never really feel welcome or at home. The reaction isn’t the prejudice that half-orcs face, it’s more like suspicion and superstition. Most humans believe that elves are naturally wizards and that the presence of elves alone can cause arcane problems that the elves, themselves, cannot help but attract. Storms, draughts, strange occurrences—all will be blamed on elves by some portion of the human population. But this same portion is likely to commit any real acts against the elves—they’re afraid of retaliation by cosmic forces to which they see elves belonging (or at least attracting).
Human government sees elves as indicative of problems or concerns that they know nothing about. This ignorance puts them at risk of not knowing how to solve the problems that arise—thus making them look like they are not in control. No Baron wants to consult the elvish community to find out what’s going on.
So, Neri, you all by yourself will probably be treated by humans with awe and respect, but also fear and suspicion. Civil authority may question elves for their opinion on some difficulties and then think them secretive for not saying all that they know (or all that the human authorities assume they should know). People think elves know secrets about nature, magic, the universe, etc., especially elves that actually are wizards. They may ask. They may be afraid to ask.
As far as lawless elves go, there is nothing scarier to humans. If elves represent arcane power that humans cannot comprehend and against which only elves can protect, then a lawless invites danger from unknown sources and offers no guarantee of protection when that danger manifests. Whatever stories humans have heard about “dark elves” they associate with chaotic and evil elves they’ve met. A chaotic elf can expect to be under some kind of surveillance there entire stay within a lawful human society (and afforded a great deal of respect in the more lawless areas of human society).
Thursday, December 27, 2007
A Quick Note
A quick note.
Most of the entries that are on this blog are either Game Play, Or Game World. At the end of the post are labels (there's also game mechanics, but that's far less frequent) that will tell you which category the post fits into.
Game Play posts are me telling you all how role playing games are played, how to get the most enjoyment out of your play, etc.. These posts are good to read if you feel like you're trying to figure out what you can do as a player of a role playing game.
Game World entries are descriptions of some thing in Aversill. I write these from time to time. Sometimes, they're more for me than for you, but as they are stuff that your character would probably know, I put them up there. If you feel like you really could care less or if you just want the cliff notes version of these, just ask me. I will be happy to explain "The Fade" or "The Eternal Library" in the ten cent reader's digest version of the blog post. If you want to know more, feel free to read.
Most of the entries that are on this blog are either Game Play, Or Game World. At the end of the post are labels (there's also game mechanics, but that's far less frequent) that will tell you which category the post fits into.
Game Play posts are me telling you all how role playing games are played, how to get the most enjoyment out of your play, etc.. These posts are good to read if you feel like you're trying to figure out what you can do as a player of a role playing game.
Game World entries are descriptions of some thing in Aversill. I write these from time to time. Sometimes, they're more for me than for you, but as they are stuff that your character would probably know, I put them up there. If you feel like you really could care less or if you just want the cliff notes version of these, just ask me. I will be happy to explain "The Fade" or "The Eternal Library" in the ten cent reader's digest version of the blog post. If you want to know more, feel free to read.
20 Questions
Okay, here’s the difficulty: you are not your character. You don’t exist in the same world, you don’t have the same skills, understanding of ethics, etc.. For instance, you know, right now, how far away the nearest big city is. You would know to react to a guy walking down the street with an ax. You know what sorts of things you can reasonably expect to find in someone’s house when you go for a visit. You know where you are, who you are, how to act, how to react, what’s weird, what’s not, and in some senses you know what to do on a day to day basis.
On the other hand, you have no idea the etiquette behind the use of invisibility in city limits, you don’t know how to judge between Claymores in terms of quality, you don’t know how to make friends with the forest creatures, you don’t know whether it’s a toga or a robe that’s proper attire for a night at the theater in Starfell. In essence, you don’t really know much at all. At any point during our game play, you’d be at a loss to know how long your characters even been awake that day. See what I mean?
What’s worse is that this is fantasy which means that there really isn’t a frame of reference at all. Is the world like Camelot or Conan, Middle Earth or Xena, Warrior Princess. At least in a game set in ancient Egypt, there are books you can look up. There’s a wikipedia entry. In the Dungeons and Dragons world, there is no such wikipedia, nor any other reference material.
So, what do you do?
The solution to this problem is a kind of re-imagining of the game as to what it is you’re trying to do as a player. In some ways, your character sheet and the rules of the game give you a basic guideline of what you can do at any moment in time as far as game mechanics go. But keep in mind, the mechanics are just there to support a role-playing environment; they’re the game part of the role playing game. What I’m talking about is getting you to concentrate on the role playing part of the role playing game.
To do this, I want you to think of Dungeons and Dragons as a kind of grand esoteric version of twenty questions. I’m serious. The people who have the most fun playing Dungeons and Dragons are the people who ask the most questions. In the same way, the longer a person has played, the more questions they ask. Really, aside from trying to figure out what your character will do (and deeply related to that), asking questions is the quintessential part of playing a role playing game.
The best part is you can ask about anything. You can ask about customs (is that guy’s hat normal?), physical space, race relations, the normal attitude your character might have about something, backstory, history. I’m serious. You as a player can ask about anything. It’s the D.M.’s job to sort of immerse you in the game world, but the job is complimentary: you have to ask the questions for this to work.
Now, it never hurts to give the D.M. a bit of a background as to why you think you would know the answer to the things you’re asking. Some stuff is common knowledge, but if you’re asking something like, “does that guy’s hat have anything to do with the Thieves guilds of this city?” it’s always nice to remind the D.M. that your character’s been working with the city watch for ten years.
Sometimes the D.M. will relate your question to one of your character’s skills, and so, it’s always good to remind the D.M. if the question you’re asking is related to a high skill (say +5 or more). So, if you want to know what kinds of relics are likely to be found in the area, it’s good to mention that your asking as a person with a +6 in appraise, local knowledge, profession: historian, or profession: merchant, just so the D.M. knows where you’re coming from and how much you would know.
On the other hand, you have no idea the etiquette behind the use of invisibility in city limits, you don’t know how to judge between Claymores in terms of quality, you don’t know how to make friends with the forest creatures, you don’t know whether it’s a toga or a robe that’s proper attire for a night at the theater in Starfell. In essence, you don’t really know much at all. At any point during our game play, you’d be at a loss to know how long your characters even been awake that day. See what I mean?
What’s worse is that this is fantasy which means that there really isn’t a frame of reference at all. Is the world like Camelot or Conan, Middle Earth or Xena, Warrior Princess. At least in a game set in ancient Egypt, there are books you can look up. There’s a wikipedia entry. In the Dungeons and Dragons world, there is no such wikipedia, nor any other reference material.
So, what do you do?
The solution to this problem is a kind of re-imagining of the game as to what it is you’re trying to do as a player. In some ways, your character sheet and the rules of the game give you a basic guideline of what you can do at any moment in time as far as game mechanics go. But keep in mind, the mechanics are just there to support a role-playing environment; they’re the game part of the role playing game. What I’m talking about is getting you to concentrate on the role playing part of the role playing game.
To do this, I want you to think of Dungeons and Dragons as a kind of grand esoteric version of twenty questions. I’m serious. The people who have the most fun playing Dungeons and Dragons are the people who ask the most questions. In the same way, the longer a person has played, the more questions they ask. Really, aside from trying to figure out what your character will do (and deeply related to that), asking questions is the quintessential part of playing a role playing game.
The best part is you can ask about anything. You can ask about customs (is that guy’s hat normal?), physical space, race relations, the normal attitude your character might have about something, backstory, history. I’m serious. You as a player can ask about anything. It’s the D.M.’s job to sort of immerse you in the game world, but the job is complimentary: you have to ask the questions for this to work.
Now, it never hurts to give the D.M. a bit of a background as to why you think you would know the answer to the things you’re asking. Some stuff is common knowledge, but if you’re asking something like, “does that guy’s hat have anything to do with the Thieves guilds of this city?” it’s always nice to remind the D.M. that your character’s been working with the city watch for ten years.
Sometimes the D.M. will relate your question to one of your character’s skills, and so, it’s always good to remind the D.M. if the question you’re asking is related to a high skill (say +5 or more). So, if you want to know what kinds of relics are likely to be found in the area, it’s good to mention that your asking as a person with a +6 in appraise, local knowledge, profession: historian, or profession: merchant, just so the D.M. knows where you’re coming from and how much you would know.
Monday, December 24, 2007
Gods-alphabetically
Here is a list of gods present (in one way or another) in the Aversill campaign
Alobel Lorfiril (Chaotic Good)- Elvish demigod of hedonism, mirth, magic, and revelry
Altua (Lawful Good)- human goddess of honor and nobility
Avoreen (Lawful Good)- Halfling god of defence, war, vigilance, Halfling warriors, duty
Blibdoolpoolp (chaotic evil)- chief god of Kua Toa
Boccob (Neutral)- Human god of magic
Brandobaris (Neutral) Halfling god of stealth, thievery, adventuring, Halfling rogues
Callarduran Smoothhands (Neutral)- Gnome god of Svirfneblin, Secrecy
Carl Glittergood (Neutral Good)- Gnome god of gnomes, humor, wit, illusion, gemcutting, jewelry making. Carl Glittergood is the quintessential Gnome god.
Corellon Larethian (Chaotic Good)- Elvish god of elves, magic, music and arts
Cyrollalee (Lawful Good) Halfling goddess of friendship, trust, the hearth, hospitality, crafts.
Deep Sashelas (Chaotic Good)- Elvish god of oceans, aquatic elves, creation, and knowledge
Eadro (Neutral good)- chief god of Locathah and merfolk
Ehlonna (Neutral Good)- human goddess of nature
Elbrin Liothiel (Chaotic Good)- Elvish god of orchards, nature, gardens, and harvest
Erythnal (chaotic eivl)- Gnoll god of slaughter
Erythnul (chaotic evil)- human god of slaughter
Fharlanghn (neutral)- human god of roads and travel
Gelf Darkhearth (Chaotic Neutral)- Gnome god of entropy and revenge
Gruumsh (chaotic evil)- chief god of the orcs
Halmyr (Lawful neutral) human god of strategy and skill
Hanali Celanil (Chaotic Good)- Elvish god of love, romance, beauty, enchantments, magic item artistry, fine arts, and artists
Hanseath (Chaotic Neutral)- Dwarven god of war, carousing, and alcohol.
Heironeous (Lawful good)- human god of valor
Hextor (Lawful evil)- human god of tyranny, war, conflict, and destruction
Hinggek (Chaotic evil)- Bugbear chief god
Konkresh (chaotic neutral) human god of brute force
Kord (Chaotic Good)- human god of glorious combat
Kurtulmak (Lawful Evil)- Kobold god of kobolds, trapmaking, mining, and war
Laduguer (Lawful Evil)- Dwarven god (Duergar) of magic weapons, artisans, magic, duergar
Lolth (Chaotic evil)- Elvish goddess of Drow, spiders, darkness
Lyris (neutral)- human goddess of victory and fate
Merrshaulk (Lawful evil)- chief god of the Yuan Ti
Moglubiyet (neutral evil)- chief god of goblins and golinoids
Moradin (Lawful Good)- Dwarven god of creation, smithing, engineering, and war. Moradin is the dwarf all purpose God and is sometimes worshipped by humans.
Mya (Neutral Good)- Dwarven goddess of clan, family, and wisdom
Nadirech (chaotic evil)- human god of cowardice and trickery
Nerull (Neutral Evil)- human god of death
Obad Hai (neutral)- human god of nature
Olidammara (chaotic netural)- human god of thieves, beggars, and wine
Pelor (neutral good)- human god of the sun, good, and justice
Rill Cleverthrush (Lawful Neutral)- Gnome god invention, creation, and the sky.
Rocknar (Neutral Evil)- Dwarven god of greed, intrigue, lies and earth
Sehanine Moonbow (Chaotic Good)- Elvish goddess of mysticism, dreams, death, journeys, transcendence, the moon, the stars, the heavens
Sekolah (chaotic evil) chief shark god of the Sanhuagin
Shella Peryroyl (Neutral)- Halfling goddess of nature, agriculture, weather, song, dance, beauty, romantic love
Sheyanna Flaxenstrand (Chaotic Good)- Gnome goddess of love, beauty and passion
Skerrit (Chaotic good)- Centaur chief god
Smemwanya (Neutral)- chief god (goddess?) of lizardfolk
St. Cuthbert (Lawful Neutral)- human god of revenge and just punishment
Sulerain (neutral evil)- human goddess of slaughter
Syreth (Neutral Good)- human god of protection and community
Tharmekhul (Neutral)- Dwarf demi-god who tends the forge for Moradin
Thautum (Netural)- Dwarf god of magic and darkness
The Glutton (Chaotic Evil)- Gnome god of disaster and greed.
Typhos (Lawful Evil) human god of Tyranny
Urbanos (Neutral Good)- God of cities
Urogalan (Lawful Neutral)- Halfling god of the Earth, death, and protection of the dead
Valkar (Chaotic Good)- human god of courage
Valkauna (Lawful Neutral)- Dwarf god of oaths, death, and birth
Vandria Gilmadrith (Lawful Neutral)- Elvish god of war, guardianship, justice, grief, vigilience, and decision
Vecna (neutral evil)- human god of secrets, magic, undead
Wee Jas (Lawful Neutral)- human goddess of magic and death
Yondolla (Lawful Good)- Halfling goddess of Halflings and explorers
Zarus (Lawful Evil)- God of human superiority
Friday, December 21, 2007
What Would Neri Do?
The real question here is what constitutes success in a role playing game. Is it killing a monster? Finding a trap? Making your Search roll? In some senses, yes. But that’s all quite mechanical.
I want you all to think in terms of a different kind of success: a success that is based around playing your character the way that character aught to be played, reacting to situations in a manner that you feel is appropriate for your character, and in general playing your character rather than playing the game. What does that mean?
Well, the truth of the matter is when you play your character, you may actually be doing things which are not solving the crisis. You may, in fact, be causing the crisis. By playing your character correctly, you may be making things complicated, you may be getting in the way, you may be doing things that you’re not supposed to do, or which, in the grand scheme of things, people don’t want you to do. When you’re playing the game, you’re every consideration about your character’s actions revolves around the health and success of the party, the ending of the adventure, and the gaining of treasure. In essence, you put who the character is on the backburner so as to consider these other factors. But this is a role playing game. Playing the character correctly in order to make him or her come alive is not only a hell of a lot more important, it’s also a lot more fun.
So, how is it done? Well, it's actually a lot less complicated than its made out to be. It involves asking the question that titles this bit of writing: what would your character do? Of every situation the character is in, ask yourself that: what would your character do? You’ve met a group of humanoid monsters that want to lay down the sword and join the human empire, what would your character do? How would your character feel about such a prospect? You’ve met up with a group of Halflings traveling through a war-torn land with children. What would your character do? The Halflings believe in casually thievery and taking people in confidence schemes. How does your character react to this? You find a town completely abandoned or you see people by the side of a battlefield looting fallen soldiers. These are not simply moments for you to listen to the story. This is not scenery. These are moments for you to add to the story line by playing your character.
In the end, Dungeons and Dragons isn’t really a story told by the D.M. to his or her players. There is a story, but when it is good, it is as much created by the players as it is by the Dungeon Master.
And that means you need to be prepared for your character to disagree with the other characters. That means that you need to be prepared to make your character do things that aren’t in the story line or to do hold on to information that they don’t think everyone in the party needs to know (or that they know will cause some members of the party to do the wrong thing). This goes for good characters and not so good characters. If it’s something that the cleric would do, then the cleric should spend the rest of the week attending to the sick, and if the Barbarian wants to move on, well, that’s just too bad. Same thing in reverse. Everybody wants to go to bed, but the thief wants to go robbing houses.
Now, I am not saying that you need to create nonstop tension in your party. Characters may be convinced to do something besides what it is there first inclination to do. The cleric might, for instance, be convinced that there are pressing matters at hand, but then that too is a place for you to play your character. What sorts of arguments will convince the cleric. What sorts of things has the cleric heard before.
Ultimately, you’re not playing the game to find the simplest path to some undisclosed finale. You’re playing the game to play your character.
Now, brass tacks. A lot of what you can use to determine what your character does revolves around your alignment, your class, and your character conception. Gringulia is a mercenary. She’s based her character on Jane from Firefly. Okay, good. Now, whenever she gets in a situation, she need only picture what it is that Jane would do and do that. She isn’t likely to stop to help people unless there’s a monetary reward. She isn’t likely to do things out of the kindness of her heart—that’s not her character conception.
As far as alignment goes, if you’re chaotic, then you don’t like rules that dictate yours or anyone else’s behavior. You don’t work well with people telling you what to do. This goes doubly for big structures. The chaotic neutral character isn’t necessarily an outlaw, but they don’t see the law as something that inherently should be allowed to rule people’s lives.
Lawful characters like order. They hold people to codes of behavior and decency and they don’t like it when things are amiss or out of the ordinary.
Neutral characters could care less really. They understand why there are laws but they also see why there are situations where people break them.
As for good and evil. Good people want the greatest good for the greatest number of people. They believe in the power of safety and what everyone to be healthy. Good characters are natural helpers.
Evil characters want power. So, good thinks of others. Evil thinks only of themselves, and neutral characters are willing to think of both.
The lawful good character wants to see the strongest parts of society rise up against tyranny and chaos to create peace and harmony. The neutral good character wants peace and harmony as well, but isn’t necessarily sure that it needs to be achieved by honoring arbitrary rules (though it might). A chaotic good character wants peace and harmony but feels that this can only be achieved if everyone is given their own ability to choose.
Which brings me finally, to class. If you’re a thief, you look at the world from a thief’s eyes. You want to steal stuff. You want to sneak around. You don’t want to be at the center of attention. If you’re a cleric of Moradin, then you pray to the god that sets the world to order. It stands to reason that you also must feel the need to bring order to the world. This isn’t a passive opinion that you share with others as you walk by scenes of human suffering and chaos; this is reason for you to get everyone else to stop. The Druid must be attuned to the balance of nature. If the Sentinel Plain has been swept by fey creatures from the positive material plain that have caused entire caravans to disappear, this is a good reason for an investigation by someone who seeks to maintain some kind of balance.
Lastly, the question has to come up: “Well, if we start playing our characters, wouldn’t we realistically just start heading off in random directions? Why would we even hang out together?” Good questions, but not yours to worry about. I will produce enough reasons to keep you working together as a team so as to keep you together even if you don’t always agree on the right course of action. But if it helps, let me forward this: you’re characters are returning from war to a world that is inherently alien (it’s human and you aren’t) and due to recent events quite corrupt. Your characters probably won’t know who to turn to except for each other. The way that the campaign is designed is that you will have to face off against disaster and, as you can’t trust others to do this for you, you will be forced to rely on one another to this purpose. This is something that you know as players, not something your characters necessarily know as of yet, but you will see it soon.
I want you all to think in terms of a different kind of success: a success that is based around playing your character the way that character aught to be played, reacting to situations in a manner that you feel is appropriate for your character, and in general playing your character rather than playing the game. What does that mean?
Well, the truth of the matter is when you play your character, you may actually be doing things which are not solving the crisis. You may, in fact, be causing the crisis. By playing your character correctly, you may be making things complicated, you may be getting in the way, you may be doing things that you’re not supposed to do, or which, in the grand scheme of things, people don’t want you to do. When you’re playing the game, you’re every consideration about your character’s actions revolves around the health and success of the party, the ending of the adventure, and the gaining of treasure. In essence, you put who the character is on the backburner so as to consider these other factors. But this is a role playing game. Playing the character correctly in order to make him or her come alive is not only a hell of a lot more important, it’s also a lot more fun.
So, how is it done? Well, it's actually a lot less complicated than its made out to be. It involves asking the question that titles this bit of writing: what would your character do? Of every situation the character is in, ask yourself that: what would your character do? You’ve met a group of humanoid monsters that want to lay down the sword and join the human empire, what would your character do? How would your character feel about such a prospect? You’ve met up with a group of Halflings traveling through a war-torn land with children. What would your character do? The Halflings believe in casually thievery and taking people in confidence schemes. How does your character react to this? You find a town completely abandoned or you see people by the side of a battlefield looting fallen soldiers. These are not simply moments for you to listen to the story. This is not scenery. These are moments for you to add to the story line by playing your character.
In the end, Dungeons and Dragons isn’t really a story told by the D.M. to his or her players. There is a story, but when it is good, it is as much created by the players as it is by the Dungeon Master.
And that means you need to be prepared for your character to disagree with the other characters. That means that you need to be prepared to make your character do things that aren’t in the story line or to do hold on to information that they don’t think everyone in the party needs to know (or that they know will cause some members of the party to do the wrong thing). This goes for good characters and not so good characters. If it’s something that the cleric would do, then the cleric should spend the rest of the week attending to the sick, and if the Barbarian wants to move on, well, that’s just too bad. Same thing in reverse. Everybody wants to go to bed, but the thief wants to go robbing houses.
Now, I am not saying that you need to create nonstop tension in your party. Characters may be convinced to do something besides what it is there first inclination to do. The cleric might, for instance, be convinced that there are pressing matters at hand, but then that too is a place for you to play your character. What sorts of arguments will convince the cleric. What sorts of things has the cleric heard before.
Ultimately, you’re not playing the game to find the simplest path to some undisclosed finale. You’re playing the game to play your character.
Now, brass tacks. A lot of what you can use to determine what your character does revolves around your alignment, your class, and your character conception. Gringulia is a mercenary. She’s based her character on Jane from Firefly. Okay, good. Now, whenever she gets in a situation, she need only picture what it is that Jane would do and do that. She isn’t likely to stop to help people unless there’s a monetary reward. She isn’t likely to do things out of the kindness of her heart—that’s not her character conception.
As far as alignment goes, if you’re chaotic, then you don’t like rules that dictate yours or anyone else’s behavior. You don’t work well with people telling you what to do. This goes doubly for big structures. The chaotic neutral character isn’t necessarily an outlaw, but they don’t see the law as something that inherently should be allowed to rule people’s lives.
Lawful characters like order. They hold people to codes of behavior and decency and they don’t like it when things are amiss or out of the ordinary.
Neutral characters could care less really. They understand why there are laws but they also see why there are situations where people break them.
As for good and evil. Good people want the greatest good for the greatest number of people. They believe in the power of safety and what everyone to be healthy. Good characters are natural helpers.
Evil characters want power. So, good thinks of others. Evil thinks only of themselves, and neutral characters are willing to think of both.
The lawful good character wants to see the strongest parts of society rise up against tyranny and chaos to create peace and harmony. The neutral good character wants peace and harmony as well, but isn’t necessarily sure that it needs to be achieved by honoring arbitrary rules (though it might). A chaotic good character wants peace and harmony but feels that this can only be achieved if everyone is given their own ability to choose.
Which brings me finally, to class. If you’re a thief, you look at the world from a thief’s eyes. You want to steal stuff. You want to sneak around. You don’t want to be at the center of attention. If you’re a cleric of Moradin, then you pray to the god that sets the world to order. It stands to reason that you also must feel the need to bring order to the world. This isn’t a passive opinion that you share with others as you walk by scenes of human suffering and chaos; this is reason for you to get everyone else to stop. The Druid must be attuned to the balance of nature. If the Sentinel Plain has been swept by fey creatures from the positive material plain that have caused entire caravans to disappear, this is a good reason for an investigation by someone who seeks to maintain some kind of balance.
Lastly, the question has to come up: “Well, if we start playing our characters, wouldn’t we realistically just start heading off in random directions? Why would we even hang out together?” Good questions, but not yours to worry about. I will produce enough reasons to keep you working together as a team so as to keep you together even if you don’t always agree on the right course of action. But if it helps, let me forward this: you’re characters are returning from war to a world that is inherently alien (it’s human and you aren’t) and due to recent events quite corrupt. Your characters probably won’t know who to turn to except for each other. The way that the campaign is designed is that you will have to face off against disaster and, as you can’t trust others to do this for you, you will be forced to rely on one another to this purpose. This is something that you know as players, not something your characters necessarily know as of yet, but you will see it soon.
The Fade: an Introduction
Though Aversill is the name of the current human colony on the continent of Phemerhon, it is clear that something once called this place their home as well. Throughout the entire colony and especially on the Sentinel Plain are scattered hints and remnants of a vast and powerful civilization that was, during one catastrophe or another, ground nearly to dust. That race, whatever they might have been, seems to have been swallowed from the face of the Earth. Now all that remains of their physical likeness are the statuary that occasionally survives whatever disaster that destroyed the race.
Antiquarians refer to these beings as Phemerhonians, but most other refers to these creatures as the faded ancestors or simply the fade. In appearance, they seem to be human in their build but in all statuary appear emaciated and often bent into positions which would be otherwise unnatural for humans. All figures in face statuary are lacking in hair. Because of the devastation of Fade civilization, it is impossible to tell the scale of the race. Fade architecture often seems gargantuan by human standards (for instance, the Denzibal Temple in Streckhorn or the Asternil Gate in Starfell) but other examples of the style suggest human proportions. Experts debate the proportions in relation to the Fade as some antiquarians suggest that the Fade may have had slave races—especially the Dwarves, Orcs, and Goblins who call Phemerhon their ancestral home. Thus the human sized architecture pertains to these races. Others disagree, seeing the Fade as ancestral to one (in not all three) of these races.
Unfortunately, so far at least, divination acts offer no help in discovering the true nature of the Fade. The last catastrophe seems to mark a stopping point beyond which no mortal eye can look. If the gods know the true nature of the Fade, they are silent on the subject. One source that is rumored to have achieved some success is the use of remnant magic. However, as such magic is dangerous, and opens one up to powers beyond the scope of sanity, few are willing to risk their lives or minds to pursue information on this subject. As such information is branded heretical and those who do return with secrets are often reticent to share. One of the rumors circulated throughout the Sentinal Plain (and believed as gospel truth in Streckhorn) is that Codphetomus, the Fade God represented by the Codphetumus Statue in Streckhorn can still be contacted through rituals known to only a select few.
Of all areas of human settlement, nowhere have Fade ruins been so well preserved as in Streckhorn. Indeed the great unnamed Fade city has for the most part simply been repopulated by the citizens of Aversill in order to found Streckhorn. Structures have been built only where old structures have completely decayed. Thus, the great tier and tower system is a remnant of the Fade as is the great statue of Codphetomus and the six gargantuan statues of unnamed Fade Gods that flank the central colossus. Streckhorn itself accounts for roughly a third of the above ground ancient city and none of its tunnel system which the Streckhorn government closes off, as a rule, through engineered collapses.
In addition to the tiers and statues, Streckhorn is also surrounded by what remains of a great wall radiating five miles out from the city center. Near its extremities, the wall still exists some 200 feet high where it is anchored to the mountain face. Most of the wall has been reduced to ruin or covered over with time. Streckhorn scholars believe that the “hill country” particular to the Streckhorn region of the Sentinel Plain is made up of stone from this gargantuan construction.
Antiquarians refer to these beings as Phemerhonians, but most other refers to these creatures as the faded ancestors or simply the fade. In appearance, they seem to be human in their build but in all statuary appear emaciated and often bent into positions which would be otherwise unnatural for humans. All figures in face statuary are lacking in hair. Because of the devastation of Fade civilization, it is impossible to tell the scale of the race. Fade architecture often seems gargantuan by human standards (for instance, the Denzibal Temple in Streckhorn or the Asternil Gate in Starfell) but other examples of the style suggest human proportions. Experts debate the proportions in relation to the Fade as some antiquarians suggest that the Fade may have had slave races—especially the Dwarves, Orcs, and Goblins who call Phemerhon their ancestral home. Thus the human sized architecture pertains to these races. Others disagree, seeing the Fade as ancestral to one (in not all three) of these races.
Unfortunately, so far at least, divination acts offer no help in discovering the true nature of the Fade. The last catastrophe seems to mark a stopping point beyond which no mortal eye can look. If the gods know the true nature of the Fade, they are silent on the subject. One source that is rumored to have achieved some success is the use of remnant magic. However, as such magic is dangerous, and opens one up to powers beyond the scope of sanity, few are willing to risk their lives or minds to pursue information on this subject. As such information is branded heretical and those who do return with secrets are often reticent to share. One of the rumors circulated throughout the Sentinal Plain (and believed as gospel truth in Streckhorn) is that Codphetomus, the Fade God represented by the Codphetumus Statue in Streckhorn can still be contacted through rituals known to only a select few.
Of all areas of human settlement, nowhere have Fade ruins been so well preserved as in Streckhorn. Indeed the great unnamed Fade city has for the most part simply been repopulated by the citizens of Aversill in order to found Streckhorn. Structures have been built only where old structures have completely decayed. Thus, the great tier and tower system is a remnant of the Fade as is the great statue of Codphetomus and the six gargantuan statues of unnamed Fade Gods that flank the central colossus. Streckhorn itself accounts for roughly a third of the above ground ancient city and none of its tunnel system which the Streckhorn government closes off, as a rule, through engineered collapses.
In addition to the tiers and statues, Streckhorn is also surrounded by what remains of a great wall radiating five miles out from the city center. Near its extremities, the wall still exists some 200 feet high where it is anchored to the mountain face. Most of the wall has been reduced to ruin or covered over with time. Streckhorn scholars believe that the “hill country” particular to the Streckhorn region of the Sentinel Plain is made up of stone from this gargantuan construction.
The Fade and Streckhorn
Because of the strong tie to the ancient past, Streckhorn is considered by most of the frontier cities to be the spiritual center of Aversill—a reputation that is nearly unaniomously supported by its own citizenry. Tales abound of “hidden staircases” that lead to tiers that appear only on full moons and the like. There are numerous rumors of doorways that appear to the blessed (or cursed) and countless tales of people who’ve gone up the wrong staircase never to be heard from again. In fact, the most popular work of literature from all of Aversill, “The Market of Archeon” concerns a traveler who stumbles upon a phantom tier where devils and demons are holding a market for human souls. The man finds his wife’s soul there and wonders at how the devil (Necrabon—a local legend) has gained possession of her spirit. Numerous possibilities are given, but there is no closure in this haunting tale. Gilfan (the poem’s hero) trades his soul for his beloved’s (Annatruce) and is imprisoned in her stead for all eternity. Less popular outside of Aversill, but more popular on the Sentinel Plains are the works of Allistair Stark (Tales of the Unknown Stair, Words of Wisdom, and the non-fiction work The Tiers of the Gods). Stark works generally in shorter poetic form putting local legends and superstitions into verse structure. The Tiers of the Gods is considered to be the premier guide to understanding the architectural complexities of Streckhorn.
Numerous works of art have their origins in Streckhorn (both due to its architecture and mystique). The fresco adorning the colony capital building in Seacourt, “Denzibal at Dawn” is considered the greatest work of Aversill’s most gifted painter, Halu Pehmions. All of the most famous studies of the Sentinel Plain were taken from the tiers of Streckhorn, and of course, the artists Jean Kandelbrot and Strinton Sheetcooper both hail from Streckhorn (Sheetcooper considers his art non-fade).
The strongest work of art to originate from Streckhorn is the very play that superstition prevents being produced in the city: The Geas of Codphetumos. Rumor has it aht if the play is performed in Streckhorn, all who watch it will suffer from the Geas. Sources vary as to what this will actually mean. According to legend, the play was delivered to its anonymous playwright the year Streckhorn was founded by Octavious Streck. It was produced later that year causing a citywide disaster.
The play has been produced several times in other cities without ill effect, but Streckhorn civil law expressly forbids production of the Geas of Codphetumos within fifty miles of the statue.
Numerous works of art have their origins in Streckhorn (both due to its architecture and mystique). The fresco adorning the colony capital building in Seacourt, “Denzibal at Dawn” is considered the greatest work of Aversill’s most gifted painter, Halu Pehmions. All of the most famous studies of the Sentinel Plain were taken from the tiers of Streckhorn, and of course, the artists Jean Kandelbrot and Strinton Sheetcooper both hail from Streckhorn (Sheetcooper considers his art non-fade).
The strongest work of art to originate from Streckhorn is the very play that superstition prevents being produced in the city: The Geas of Codphetumos. Rumor has it aht if the play is performed in Streckhorn, all who watch it will suffer from the Geas. Sources vary as to what this will actually mean. According to legend, the play was delivered to its anonymous playwright the year Streckhorn was founded by Octavious Streck. It was produced later that year causing a citywide disaster.
The play has been produced several times in other cities without ill effect, but Streckhorn civil law expressly forbids production of the Geas of Codphetumos within fifty miles of the statue.
Streckhorn and Sprituality
Streckhorn is a city of superstition and for good reason. The magical ties that exist behind closed doors in other cities are plain for all to see in Streckhorn In battles against past enemies, the city has received aid from numerous sources without need of summons. A flight of Griffons, calling the wild Tiers above the city their home, routinely comes to the city in times of crisis as have, at different points in the city’s history, a flight of silver dragons, a Shedhu, and numerous other creatures both Earthly and other worldly. Tehr are routine sightings of glowing figures walking the streets of Streckhorn (not to mention the occasional report of a Fade sighting). Explorers of both Ysgard and Acheron have told tales of persistent portals that lead directly to Streckhonr.
Whenever possible, the leadership of Steckhorn has attempted to discover the nature of the responsibilities that these creatures feel towards keeping the city safte. Their success or failure in this endeavor is a secret to the public. The rumor about these pacts are that they originate with the fade and that humans were not meant to keep them. Some feel that these alliances represent a sign of corruption within the arcane and divine community of Streckhorn. Many whisper of dire consequences. Others make it their purpose to seek out the divine creatures and forces that occasionally materialize in Streckhorn.
Actual superstitions vary from person to person and Tier to Tier, many of which concern phantom passages and similar features. A phantom passage is a doorway that is only open at certain times or under certain conditions. These passages are said to open onto parts of the city that only exist in the world of spirits. Some say that phantom passages lead to different time. The commonality between all such legends is that those who make it into a phantom passage are almost never heard from again.
Similar to phantom passages, Streckhorn superstition includes “Haint Halls” which are buildings that are not always there. Strictly speaking, a Haint Hall is the ghost of a Fade building that has suffered ruin. Priscients, ghosts of the Fade, represent a similar kind of local legend. Often buildings will be abandoned due to rumor of prescient activity. There is little verification, however, of these phantom’s actual existence.
Some of the legends and superstitions common in Streckhorn are:
Never climb a spire alone: After all, you never know whether the passage you are in is real or phantom. Many legends concerning phantom passages hold that you cannot be spirited away unless you are alone. Others claim that the passages only show themselves to lone travelers.
Whistle a song as you climb a spire: This is a variation on the standard legend that if others can hear your song then you can’t be spirited away. Other versions of this superstition hold that if you hear someone whistling the same song, it’s you coming from the other direction and you must head back or meet yourself coming (a disaster in all cases). The simplest version of this superstition holds that whistling lets everyone know that someone else is in the spire.
The double jointed and contortionists are possessed by Priscients: Circus contortionists and all manner of tumblers and acrobats are frowned upon in Streckhorn.
Diseases that twist the bodies are considered curses of the Fade.
Anyone who enters a house left foot first is a Prescient. There are a wide variety of these kinds of superstitions. This is simply the most common. There are literally hundreds of ways to spot a Fade
Touching the statue of Codphetumos insures fertility.
One must conduct business with a bare head. This legend probably revolves around the number of tales where a Streckhorn citizen finds himself inside a bazaar of devils.
Codphetumos hears prayers for justice in Streckhorn. Though no one openly admits to worshipping the Fade gods and goddesses, there’s a lot of crossover in the pantheons of Streckhorn. The large statue of St. Cuthbert in front of his temple, for instance, has him posed in such a fashion as to hint at contortion. Art critics see in the statue a strong Fade influence. Stronger critics see the statue as a suggestion of heresy. In any case, quite a few words have crept into common parlance as far as oaths are concerned that are clearly drawn from the Fade. “Codsys,” for instance, is untranslatable, generally is used like “Wow,” and obviously sounds a lot like Cod sees (as in Codphetumos seees). The temple of St. Cuthbert is in a building that was clearly some kind of Fade temple before the catastrophe.
Cod’s Tribute: On the great lifts of the Tevermine Gate (the four giant lifts that run from the base of the mountain up to the Middle tier of Streckhonr), one is supposed to drop a coin to Codphetumos as an offer that the lift will not break.
“The gods are worshipped on one Tier; they live on another.” Less a superstition than a saying. Nonetheless, this phrase is indicative of Streckhorn religion. Worshippers are praying to and honoring beings that they feel are physically close and which may be met through phantom gates and such, during the lifetime of the faithful.
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