Saturday, August 26, 2023

Why I dislike 10-Minute Turns (And Why I Love the Clock)

If you aren't familiar with Goblin Punch's Underclock, I'd recommend reading that before reading this.

I doubt I'm about to say anything that hasn't been said before, but I think the concept of 10 minute turns for dungeon exploration is silly. I get the point: provide a simple and consistent procedure for dungeon exploration to make resource management and random encounter generation as easy as possible. Does it do that? Yes, sort of. It does it effectively enough, though I think we can do better (chances are, we can always do better). Let me start with my major points against 10 minute turns.

  1. Let's start with the most obvious: 10 minute turns break verisimilitude. By their nature, they are restrictive. Everything must fit into a 10 minute slot or a 0 minute slot, even things for which either slot makes no sense. It also leaves no opportunity for "something you thought would take long took basically no time" or the opposite.
  2. I find 10 minute turns extraordinary tedious. Mark down duration, roll for random encounters, so on and so forth. There's a laundry list of things that must be done after every single turn, which is an issue when taking turns are the most common action players do.
  3. I find turns actively discourage experimentation. If you know that any action can result in wasting 10 minutes, then taking actions becomes a dangerous dance of "will this take 10 minutes". Examining a cool statue becomes risky when it could mean losing a sixth of your torch and a roll for random encounters. Ultimately this problem is born of the restrictive nature of 10 minute turns, but I'm listing it separately because I feel it is an extreme antithesis to the game we play.
  4. Random encounters lose a lot of interest when they are truly random. Random encounters are best as a tool to drive the narrative and build suspense, but when they just appear they lose a lot of interest.

If you read about the Underclock, I'm sure you can see where this is going.

I've finally be given an opportunity to run a new campaign for some friends, and I've been using the Underclock in it, though I simply refer to it as the Clock. Whenever the players do something that takes time, or makes noise, I roll a d6 and subtract it from 20, with 6's exploding. When they do something that takes a VERY long time, or makes a lot of noise while taking time, I'll roll multiple d6's, with 6's exploding. When the Clock strikes below 0, a random encounter appears. That's not all I do, but it's the gist.

The big point of the Clock is that the players can see it. Random encounters are no longer truly random, the players now know when things are going to happen and tension is built. They plan around the Clock, but I think that's a good thing. Adventurers should have a sixth sense for when something is about to go wrong. This fixes problem 4.

It also helps that a full cycle of the Clock is approximately an hour. Things take as much time as they need, as represented by the roll of the d6. If the roll is low, then it didn't take much time. If the roll is high, it took a while. This fixes issue 1. The whole rolling for the Clock thing is easy too. Just some d6's and simple subtraction, and when it goes below 0 an hour has passed and torches will go out and spells will need to be reset. Makes issue 2 a non factor too. And finally, because I control when the clock is rolled, I can choose not to roll it for things that are short and simple. Examing a statue could take 2 minutes. That's not worthy of the Clock, and fixes issue 3.

Basically, I wrote all this to talk about how much I like the Underclock and how much it fixes one of my largest issues with old school play. I'm not saying it's perfect for you, but it is perfect for me, partially because I am a fan of cutting a lot of the fat out of my games. I find such strict time keeping unnecessary for the way I play, so I prefer a system that removes it.

Sunday, August 13, 2023

Neurim Lore Primer

This post should act as a reasonable introduction to my fantasy world Neurim. Neurim was designed as a fantasy world that appears very standard on its face, but becomes weirder the closer you look. This post should help make some of that weirdness more obvious. 

The universe that Neurim takes place in is the Concordance. Neurim is a Concord, or world, within that Concordance.

The World.

See map here.

Neurim is a roughly Earth-sized world with a year of exactly 360 days. Most cultures divide these days into 12 months of 30 days each. The current year is 443 AF (after founding) as defined by the Zetterite calendar. 

In the east are the Tiers of the Sevenwoods, the Folleyfaults, and Dunset, charecterized by vast forests and rolling hills. The Sevenwoods are home to the seven major kingdoms of the Zetterite Empire, as well as it's capital of Anastor. The Folleyfaults are barren, hilly, and rocky, home to many ancient ruins and the city of Witches. Dunset is a land trapped in eternal autumn, and is the empire's defensive line against invasion.

To the north is Oth Elana, the land of the Kingdoms of the Omentahl. These lands cold and bitter, and frequented by rain and snow. Immense taiga forests dot the land, as well as the immense Stillwind Rise, a plateau without wind. Further north are the boreal lands, and to the west is the great forest of Songmaiden's Meath, the home of the druids. Further west still are the great wastelands of Azad-Ghul and the Dust Abyss.

Separating the Tiers and Oth Elana is the alpine region of Lost Muine, the once homeland of the dwarves. West of it is the Silkcat Jungle, a massive temperate rainforest. Past it are the lands of Zaruchyat, now called Hayekar by the orcs that drove the human inhabitants away.

East of the Tiers, across the Reaches of our Hands is the Thousand Miles, a track of endless desert. From the Painted Desert in the north, to the Stone Forest, to the Dune Sea and the Tar Marshes. The southern tip of the Thousand Miles is the magic city of Zahallas, and on it's eastern edge are the rotting lands of Asur, home of the first kingdom of humanity Asuria.

South of the Tiers is the great crater known as Svog, home of the Svoggite Church who worship the slumbering god Svoggoth within. Bodies have a habit of winding up within Svog. Further south still is the decaying remnants of the Great Tree of the Elves, and even further south is the Zetterite nation of Sisthea. East from there leads to the great canyon-valleys of the Dromudine.

Crossing the sea to the south leads to the continent of Mgamba, a land of jungles, deserts, and savannahs. A number of nations dot the land, most united in a great union.

There is also the Shattered Continent of Zatrom, which orbits the earth, completing a cycle twice a year. It is a land of harsh terrain and floating stones, connected by a metaphorical sea which allows ships to float and fish to swim. It's most common inhabitants of the Mokhan, a kind of rock person, and the alchemists of Arcologium.

Major Factions and Core Conflict.

The Zetterite Empire, the greatest in the world, is a powerful fuedal state (think 14th century Europe) that controls its subsidiaries by taking their gods, trapped in physical idols, and keeping them in its capital city, only allowing the most powerful to speak outside of the city's walls, known as the Zettar. It is lead by the Godhead, a title passed down from worthy female successor to worthy female successor.

Their primary enemy are the Omentahlic Kingdoms (think 9th century anglo-saxons, celtic tribes, and norse tribes), who are led by an enigmatic religious prophet known as the Word. After losing their gods to the Zetterites in a great war, the Omentahl rebelled by creating new gods that were not bound by idol. and thus harder to steal, known as the Omentahl.

The Omentahl and Zetterites have fought two wars, one 120 years ago, and another 40 years ago.

Smaller Factions.

The Svoggite Grand Church is a hyper-religious society with a positive view on undead and dark magics. 20 years ago they attempted to convert the world by force to their views during the Cadaver Crusade, which hurt the Zetterite Empire immensely, though the crusade was unsuccessful.

Many druids, fearful of Zetterite oppresion, have also banded together under a figure known as the Animus, who wishes to destroy the Zetterite Empire.

The Trading House of Hatavius is a merchant-cult obsessed with gaining money and ascending to dragonhood. 

The orcs of Hayeker, led by a figure known only as the Warchief, have attempted many times to invade the lands to the west and destroy all gods for good, though they have been driven back all times.

In the south, much of Mgamba is united under a single senate, the Electrum Council. The land is a testament to what humans can do with peace.

There is also the ghoul kingdom of Asura, the art and reincarnation obsessed Dromudine, the enigmatic doomsday Star Cult, the demon worshiping Disciples of Mother, as well as the mage society led by the Winedark Council and the Alchemists led by the Five Engines..

Magic and Technology.

Magic in Neurim is pure chaos distilled into words which can be read by the magically gifted. These words are located on quartz gems known as steles, which are copied onto scrolls for ease of daily memorization and use. Magic works by breaking down reality and causing fundamental rules to break.

Alchemy, synonymous with science on Neurim, is a set of complex rules, interactions, experiments, and theories to explain how the universe works. Alchemists can perform all sorts of technological feats, from creating automata to firearms. Alchemy breaks down near magic, and thus alchemists and mages rarely get along.

Ancestries.

These are the most common sapient species in Neurim, ranged in order of least rare to rarest. There are more, but these are by far the most common.

Humans.

Humans are the most common ancestry on Neurim. They are extremely varied, and around what you'd expect, though humans do have the ability to smell magic.

Dwarves.

Dwarves are short and stout, often with grand and mighty beards which they take pride in. Dwarves do not reproduce sexually (in fact, they have no sexual organs at all), but are instead constructed by their forefathers. Dwarves have hearts made of rare gems, and are immortal as long as they eat gems or valuable minerals. Dwarves are defined by their cycle, or generation. The current cycle is the 13th. The dwarves are slowly dying off, and many believe the 13th cycle will be the final.

Halflings.

Halflings were a diplomat-species brought to Neurim by aliens known as the Bodyless Ones. Halflings have an appearance resembling whatever species they live nearest, as they have an uncanny ability to adapt to the most common local species. Often, they appear as short humans with elf ears. Halflings are easy to get along with, and are incapable of creating their own societies without the presence of other species.

Elves.

There are three kinds of elf, lead, bark, and root. Together, they were once trees, but millennia of jealousy and hatred split them. Elves are haughty and self-important, and live lives with as little risk as possible, as their deaths will kill an elf of the other types. Elves that deny this lifestyle are known as half-elves, and are the kind of elves most see outside of elven cities. Elves are an extreme rarity outside of their cities, to the point where many generations can go by never seeing one.

Mokhan.

Mokhan are intelligent stone humanoids, animated by a magical force that gives them life. They have elonged limbs, are around 7 feet tall, and are stronger than humans. Mokhan often feel a lack of purpose, which they find physically painful, and try to alleviate it with art or adventure.

Voghul.

The mask-makers. Thin and lithe, with needle legs. They have universally pale hair, and their faces lack any discernible features. They make masks to fit in with common society, often taking after animals. Voghul are seen as strange and eccentric, with their almost dance-like movements and peculiar patterns of thought causing them to stand out despite their best efforts.

Half-Orcs.

Orcs are a virus that infect and warp humans into stronger humanoids with mottled skin, goat-eyes, claws for fingers, a lack of blood, and bones that twist in unnatural ways. Orcs are natural dystheists, believing that all gods must be killed, and have created an endless war machine to do this. Orcs that reject this are known as half-orcs, and are the only kind of peaceful orc you are liable to find in much of Neruim.

Common Threats.

These are some of the common enemy creatures common to Neurim. It isn't inclusive of every option, and only include intelligent beings. Presented in order of most normal to least normal.

Humans.

Bandits and raiders, to Zetterite and Omentahlic forces, to Svoggite crusaders and Asurian ghoul nobles, aggresive humans are common to all of Neurim.

Goblins and The Dark.

The Dark is an intelligent malevolent force that wishes to destroy all sapient life. To do this, it creates monsters, known as goblins. Goblins are highly varied, but are united by a lack of nose and sharp ears. Goblins are incabaple of doing anything that will not eventually result in the death of sapient humanoids, and while they build societies, it is simply to destroy better. It isn't their fault, they can't do otherwise.

Orcs.

An endless industrial war machine. Orcs use anti-holy magic and turn god corpses into powerful machines to aid in their war. Orc invasions are rare, but smaller orc warbands are a common sight .

Kobolds.

Blue scaled lizard humanoids. They live in the deep places of the earth, as the sun causes them to catch fire. Their breath is toxic smoke, and given time they would replace all air on Neurim with it. Kobolds are gifted craftsman, able to create complex machinery out of nothing but stone and waste-copper. They are the sworn enemies of dwarves.

The Fomorian.

Also known as the ogres, the Fomorian are a species of lesser giants cursed with endless disease. They are massive, with bodies covered in a network of wounds, fungal infections, and insects. They live all over Neurim, but are most common near their home in Eluid's Pox.

Husks.

Husks are necro-mechnical machines made of bone and bismuth and animated by astral fire, like azure glass flame. Husks were workers of the Bodyless Ones, but were left behind after being used for war. They are like malfunctioning machines, confused and dangerous. They come in many shapes.

The Gaolmen.

The once faithful servants of a deity, they were imprisoned for committing the Crime Unspoken. When they finally found their way out, they were misshapen, malformed, wrong. Elongated proportions, twisted shapes, and empty pits where faces should be. Though they are incapable of speaking, they continue to worship their traitor-god, kidnapping people and turning them into more gaolmen, endlessly growing their god's flock.

Ghaal, Ghaal-ar, and Ghaal-ratha.

Beings from another world, the Land of Flesh and Metal, often called demons, are malformed and twisted half-metal monstrosities that relish in death. Ghaal-ar, or true demons, are incapable of coming to Neurim if not summoned, so they turn themselves into evil and corrupting weapons known as Ghaal to convince mortals to open portals to The Land of Flesh and Metal. Ghaal-ratha, or devils, are demons that have constructed societies with strict rules. They can come to Neurim without assistance, but are bound by a strict code.

Bhityile.

Two-dimensional psychic beings most commonly found in the vast caverns beneath Neurim known as the Dark World below. They are led by the Abathethi, the voiceless lords. Their plans are unknowable and to them we are but pawns in their great work. 

 


 


Friday, August 11, 2023

The Aesthetics of the Unknowable

Cthulhu isn't scary. Sure, the idea of an unknowable elder god who's schemes have defined all of existence and are impossible to understand and the mere attempt to do so is going to end in, at best, death and, at worst, insanity is scary, but Cthulhu is not scary. Cthulhu is a silly looking tentacle man.

It is hard for humans to write about the unknowable. By the very ways we create art, making art of something that is completely abstracted from our reality is difficult. It's hard to make something you can't parse. In reality, the best art of the unknowable we can create are series of unrelated shapes and colors. The second any part of it makes sense is the second it's no longer alien.

As a result, we have a habit of picking things on Earth to use as the basis for our eldritch horrors, most often deep sea animals: especially squid and octopi, as the terrors of the deep sea are the closest thing to a true unknowable horror we have on Earth. Octopi are intelligent, very much so, but the way they think is foreign to us. They're a solid basis for eldritch horror.

Yet, we fail to go for something true alien. We humanize the idea of an eldritch horror. Notice that a certain iconic monster from Dungeons and Dragons is shaped like a person. They have defined arms and legs and heads, just with the addition of tentacles. Is this scary?

We have a habit of this. Mushrooms are alien to us, but mushroom-people are almost always mushrooms with stumpy little legs and little arms with cute little mushroom fingers. It's easier to see them as cute than it is as a weird alien being so wholly different from us that the fact we can communicate at all is a miracle.

What's the point of the unknowable being so...recognizable? Perhaps I am the only one who thinks that unknowable eldritch horrors from a reality out of time should look as weird as they think. Turning them into the planet of hats robs them of being anything more than just another bad guy. And that's not to say there's anything wrong with that. I like my squid people too. I just wish we had our horrible alien eldritch monsters too.

But how do you communicate the idea of something that is not of this world? My best advice: make something impossible. Something that couldn't possible exist, and then turn it into an all knowing scheming mastermind. The Bodyless Ones of Neurim are memetic thought viruses (they exist only as thoughts) that built an interstellar empire. The Abathethi (also of Neurim) only exist in two of our world's dimensions (they appear flat).

The point of all this wasn't to crap on squid people. Again, I like squid people. I just feel that squid people are pigeonholed into the role of "servants of the great old gods" when they're really best used as weird guys that want to eat your brain.

Saturday, August 5, 2023

Choices, Information, and Meaning

When I wrote this post on the Fallacy of Freedom, I mention that players want their choices to matter but I realize that I haven't quite defined what a choice that matter is. So let me continue my dive into game design about player motivation.

Let's define terms:

  • A choice is any time a player is presented two or more options.
    • A choice can be meta (outside the game) or narrative (within the game)
  • A non-choice is anytime a player is presented two or more options, but one choice is clearly and objectively correct.
  • A false choice is anytime a player makes a choice where all outcomes are essentially the same.
  • A choice is meaningful if all options have tangible and measurable consequences.
  • A choice is informed if the players have the ability to reasonably predict the result of each option.

Choices are extremely common. By the very nature of the game, players must make choices on a regular basis. The question of whether to go forward or backward in a dungeon is a choice. Choices define the game, which is why I like to think about things in terms of the choices offered to the player. Note that I split choices between meta and narrative. Neither are inherently bad or good and both have their times to exist, though it can be bad when a meta reason is used for a narrative choice (this is called metagaming). Choosing a class is a meta choice and there's nothing wrong with that.

Non-choices are an interesting topic because they aren't choices. If option A is leagues and bounds better than option B, then you aren't making a choice. You choose A. There's nothing wrong with presenting non-choices. Sometimes there is merit in making the players realize that option B is bad, but I do think it's bad to try and trick players into picking option B.

False choices are bad. The standard false choice is the party coming to a fork in the road. To the left there is an ogre, to the right is the same ogre. The GM has decided the party is going to fight an ogre, and this their best answer is Schrödinger ogre. False choices are essentially a lie, and at a point it's better to simply not provide a choice than it is to provide a choice where all options have the same outcome.

Now we come to the two interesting terms: meaningful choices and informed choices. Let's start with meaningful choices.

You might be inclined to think that all choices are meaningful, but this is false. Plenty of choices have no meaningful consequences. The choice of whether or not to buy supplies or weapons first is mostly meaningless. That doesn't mean it shouldn't exist and it surely doesn't make it bad, but it is still meaningless.

Note that I define a meaningful choice as having tangible, visible consequences. If a choice has no visible consequences, then to the players it has no consequences. If the players fail to stop a bad guy and the bad guy takes over a region they never seem then this doesn't mean anything to the players. It is essentially window-dressing. If that bad guy instead burnt down their base of operations, suddenly their actions have visible consequences, and the choice feels meaningful.

Information and informed choices present an interesting topic because what exactly is the ability to reasonably predict an outcome. Well what it doesn't mean is that the players need perfect knowledge of all outcomes. They don't, they simply need a good guess as to the result of their choices. As long as the players have some half-decent idea of what the consequences of their actions might be, they can make informed choices. The choice between dungeon A and dungeon B with no information about either is often not a choice: it is random selection, which limits player agency (or autonomy, as I called it before).

My post on the Fallacy of Freedom boils down to players wanting agency, not pure freedom. Agency, then, is generated by the ability to make meaningful and informed choices. Choices without meaning can be fun, but they have limited application and can get dull fast, and choices without information often boil down to random selection, but a choice with both meaning and information is one the players can actually make. A good choice has no correct answers and equally valid options.

Let me provide an example. The party knows of two dungeons. The first has an ancient sword that can destroy evil, and the second has a necromancer threatening to destroy the town the party lives in. These are options with measurable consequences, thus the choice is meaningful. The party has heard of the sword through various rumors, and they have met the necromancer and heard his evil plan before. This is the information the party needs to act on those choices. This is a good meaningful and informed choice.

In conclusion, while it is fine to provide non-meaningful and non-informed choices, and it is at times reasonable to provide a non-choice, the primary choices in a game should be meaningful and informed.