[To Coin a World] Underworld Portal

"Well, obviously, travelling to the underworlds, the myriad lands of the dead, is very easy. Grab a knife, pick a vital organ, insert, and you're there. Travelling there in such as way that you can travel back again, that's a bit harder.


I do know of a spell that will let you do that, open a portal to the beyond. While the spell itself is not that hard, barely more difficult than a good old fireball incantation, it does have some... challenges associated with it. For starters, the spell won't work anywhere on this world. Thankfully, you can get around that by sailing to the very edge of the Coin, casting the spell so that the portal appears off the edge. Best to make sure you're going at a fair clip when you do it though. You don't want to come up short and fall into open space. 


Oh, and if you think sailing a ship off the very edge of the world is difficult, just wait till you try coming back..."

Marx & Monsters: Burning the City

In service to my prior post, I wanted a City Burner in the mode of Judd Karlman's MoBu City and Build Your Own New Crobuzon. You can use it to build the skeleton of your own dystopian metropolis, or to provide inspiration for extending an existing world. In this post, I focus on the structure of the City as a whole; a later post will cover mapping the City as individual districts and landmarks. Choose to use it as a random generator, or purposefully select items from each list, as you prefer.

Despite all its horrors, the City is a baroque, impossible, wonderous place. Few will choose to leave it willingly; fewer still will fail to return. Choose (1d20) one, two, or three phantasmagorical traits that set the City apart from any other metropolises that have been or will ever be:

1. ...it floats in the interdimensional space between the planar spheres.
2. ...it consumes other cities, leaving only ruins behind.
3. ...it walks across the face of the world, hauling its bulk on thousands of legs.
4. ...it grows from the corpse of a dead god.
5. ...it was built on the back of an immense beast.
6. ...it fell from the heavens.
7. ...it stands upon the border of Hell itself.
8. ...it lurks within an immense dark cavern, beneath the surface of the world.
9. ...it towers miles into the sky.
10. ...it is an animate, living thing, with a mind of its own.
11. ...it rules a vast empire built on blood and iron.
12. ...it never stops raining here.
13. ...it lies beyond the reach of sleep and dreams.
14. ...it is filled with a thousand portals to a hundred worlds.
15. ...it lies deep beneath the sea.
16. ...it was built from the dreams of a lone madman.
17. ...the walls between the realms of life and death are thinner here.
18. ...the streets constantly shift and move, like a living labyrinth.
19. ...the world has already ended, and the City is all that is left.
20. ...it wraps back in upon itself like an ouroboros. 

The City plays home to a host of cultures and species, a melting pot that boils everything down to its lowest common denominator. Humans call the City home, of course, but many other races do as well. Perhaps they form part of the ruling classes, perhaps they are victims of a speciest government that treats them like slaves, or perhaps they are just people. Pick (1d20) at least three non-human sapient races that make up large portions of the city's population:

1. Orcs, hot-tempered, thick-skinned, and often cruel.
2. Scarabae, beetle-kin with a taste for precious jewels.
3. Yuan-ti, descendants of men and snakes with a poisonous bite.
4. Fomorians. hulking giants with the blood of the unseelie.
5. Abeil, hard-working bee folk from a distant plane of existence.
6. Litorians, powerfully built leonine people with a nomadic past.
7. Kobolds, scavengers with the blood of dragons in their veins.
8. Minotaurs, bull-headed, stubborn, and with a penchant for labyrinths.
9. Myconids, fungoid creatures who cannot form human words.
10. Aranea, shape-shifting great spiders with a talent for textiles.
11. Salamanders, flame-blooded and serpentine.
12. Lycanthropes of several different breeds.
13. Ghouls, undead scavengers with a savage hunger for flesh.
14. Anubians, jackal-headed stone constructs given life through arcane means.
15. Wyrmen, pigeon-like flying creatures with a rudimentary intelligence.
16. Tritons, fish-kin who live in brackish coves beneath the city.
17. Drow, long-banished elf-kin who abhor sunlight.
18. Tieflings, humans touched with the blood of the infernal planes.
19. Yoon-Suin, slug-kin, immense strength tempered only by their slowness.
20. Choose any other race from your favourite compendium of creatures.

Corrupt plutocrats and patricians form the majority of the city's ruling class, but they do not rule alone. There are many interlocking gears in the machinery of oppression. Choose (1d10) two or three other major power groups who hold great influence over the City's leadership, either openly or in secret:

1. A nest of vampires (desire: to feast off the life-force of the populace)
2. The corrupt elders of a major faith (desire: to rule the hearts and minds of the populace)
3. A coven of dream-witches (desire: to rule the world of dreams)
4. A cabal of wizards and sorcerers (desire: to plumb the depths of knowledge)
5. A cult of hedonistic demon-worshippers (desire: to revel in causing suffering)
6. A powerful spirit of law (desire: to ensure obedience and conformity)
7. The military leadership (desire: to wage war)
8. A prominent devil with a quota to meet (desire: to ensure a healthy supply of damned souls)
9. A major criminal syndicate (desire: to accumulate and hold power)
10. A truly ancient dragon (desire: to hoard wealth)

Life in the City, for most of its impoverished inhabitants, is a dire struggle for one's daily bread, caught in a constant cycle of debt and near-starvation, living from one day's wage to the next, surrounded by suffering, disease, and crime. The City, however, is not content with the relatively mundane horrors of permanent crushing poverty, inescapable debts, and class-based oppression. Choose (1d12) two or three bizarre inhumanities that are imposed upon the population by the status quo:

1. Constant thirst: The supply of drinkable water is controlled by plutocrats, who charge through the nose for the basic substance of life. Vast swathes of the population are constantly on the verge of death from thirst, while the wealthy cavort in bath-houses and fountains.
2. Forced undeath: Necromantic rituals are used to transform corpses of the proletariat into a tireless zombie workforce. Often, labourers are worth more as dead corpses than living beings, and the truly impoverished can be forced to sell themselves into undeath to provide for their families.
3. Flesh-warping: Those convicted of a crime, or who fall into bankruptcy, become the property of the City. They are subjected to flesh-warping sorcery by the City's justice system, either to shape them into better slaves, or to provide ironic punishments for their crimes. Worse yet the gardens of the truly wealthy are filled with living sculptures; sapient beings sculpted into obscene abstract bodily forms.
4. Industrial sacrifice: Ritualised murder powers the City's industrial district. Criminals and debtors are the first to be fed into the maw of progress, but its hunger never yields. Sometimes, entire city blocks are cordoned off, the inhabitants carted away to be fed into some horrific eldritch machines.
5. Arcane experiments: Impoverished citizens have no rights when it comes to the pursuit of arcane science. The poor are regularly subjected to horrific experiments, and most diseases that sweep through the tenements are engineered by pestilence mages from the City's most prestigious magical academy.
6. Travel restrictions: Peaceful transit through the city is regulated by a series of obscure codes and travel zones. Certain classes of citizen are prohibited from travelling through certain zones at certain times, and anyone found in the wrong district at the wrong time is subject to the full horrific force of the City's justice. 
7. Body-theft: The wealthiest amongst the elite of the City can live forever by buying up the bodies of young criminals and debtors. Either consciousness can be transferred across bodies, leaving the poor in the broken near-corpses of City elders while they cavort in young and shapely forms, or the City's elite are in fact mental parasites that subdue the consciousness of their hosts.
8. Endless conscription: The City's leaders are engaged in a constant and unyielding struggle with a foreign power, and their war machine cries out for fresh blood. Those who are conscripted and remade into soldiers or worse will never return, or at least not in any form recognizable to those who once knew them.
9. Dream control: Even in deepest sleep, oppression cannot be escaped. The shadowy guardians of the City walk through the dreams of the sleepers, searching for hints of rebellion and seditious thoughts. Sleepers can even be forced to work off their debts in dream-labours towards mysterious ends.
10. Memory markets: In the City, debts can be absolved and crimes forgotten in exchange for your memories, which can be sold on the open market to the highest bidder. It's not unknown for a pauper to sell the memory of their dead mother to pay for a cup of coffee, or the memory of a lost love to pay the month's rent.
11. Drug-induced prayer: The alchemists and priests of the City have discovered how to produce an addictive drug known as Faith, which induces a state of heightened religious ecstasy. The prayers of a million addicted labourers are channelled as raw power into the temple-factories and eldritch workshops of the City's industrial districts.
12. Blood money: The economy of the City is quite literally built on the blood of its citizenry. Pints of blood are a common unit of exchange to be bought and sold like milk or honey. Taxes, rents, and debts can be forgiven in exchange for a few minutes with a needle and bottle. In the poorer districts, pallid skin and fainting labourers are everywhere, drained of their very life-force by the machine.

Not everyone is content to allow the elites free reign, to simply lie still while they are crushed beneath the gears of capital. The City's underground is awash with revolutionary groups who aim to break the status quo, or defend the rights of the proletariat. The list below includes some of the possible groups that might make up this underground. Choose (d6) at least one revolutionary group that is actively being crushed by the enforcers of the status quo, and at least one revolutionary group whose leadership have abandoned their goals and become co-opted into the regime:

1. A powerful trade union (desire: to win rights for workers).
2. Anarchist street gangs (desire: to bring down the state).
3. Radical street journalists (desire: to expose the truth).
4. Liberation theologists, declared as heretics (desire: to protect the impoverished).
5. Civil rights activists (desire: to win equality).
6. Artistic revolutionaries (desire: to display the truth through art).

The leaders of the City do not generally dirty themselves with the messy business of enforcing oppressive laws and controlling the people. Stamping boots across the face of the citizenry is left to militiamen, secret police, and mercenaries hired by industrial cabals and underworld syndicates. These enforcers are well versed in the language of fists, batons, and torture, but they wield other tools as well. Choose (d10) at least two strengths of the City's enforcers:

1. Ironwatch: Street-level enforcers are automata and constructs, immune to bribery and firmly under the control of the central commanders.
2. Changelings: The secret police employ changelings who can take any form and infiltrate any organisation.
3. Enforcer beasts: Horrific beasts are kept under control by the city guard, to be released upon criminals and rioting citizens at will.
4. Noxious alchemy: The city guards have access to an array of alchemical weapons, from noxious choking gasses, to alchemical potions of strength and endurance, to batons marked with poisons that cause vomiting on contact.
5. Compulsion: Secret police and other enforcers have access to charms and techniques that inflict magical compulsions upon their targets, mentally compelling them into certain actions.
6. Mind flaying: With time and intimacy, agents of the regime can peel away a person's most secret thoughts and memories. The health of the prisoner is not guaranteed.
7. Informants everywhere: The secret police use wealth and blackmail to maintain an incredible network of informants and double-agents, giving them eyes at every level of society.
8. Judicators: The City's militia is not restrained by any formal system of justice when dealing with the proletariat; agents of the state are free to pass sentence upon offenders in situ.
9. Panopticon: Most every public space, and many private ones, are laced with the scrying eyes of the secret police.
10. Scent trackers: Once a target has been sighted, members of the militia are able to track them by scent through miles of winding City streets.

Finally, give the City a name, or as many names as its citizens have tongues. Haunting names that harken to lost ideals, musty names that recall ancient history, ironic names that promise a better future, or names that stir memories of revolutions past.


Next up: Mapping the City!

Marx & Monsters: A Radical Leftist Fantasy Sandbox

Credit: anndr on deviantart

China Mieville's New Crobuzon novels portray a corrupt city where the forces in power are utterly morally bankrupt. In stark contrast to the cliche-ridden rut of modern fantasy literature, no shining knights or noble lords infest the universe of Mieville's fecund imagination. His characters are drawn from the radical bohemian crowd that thrives in the interstices of this city - anarchist journalists, labour organisers, avante-garde artists, and disgraced scientists. It's no surprise when you consider the author's political leanings - he's a dyed-in-the-wool Marxist with a PhD in International Law who actually ran for Parliament as a Socialist in 2001. In this context, power structures are examined from the perspective of the downtrodden and the oppressed - and found deeply wanting. Rather than holding the status quo as some natural state of goodness, a crippling stasis is held in place by the forceful action of the corrupt and powerful.

Narratives that build from this perspective tend to resonate with our inner sympathetic selves. It's no coincidence that most great adventure stories are told from the perspective of the underdog - the Rebel Alliance against the Empire, Indiana Jones against the entire Nazi Reich, and so on. Upstanding moral heroes who act to preserve the status quo make no sense in the sandbox-style gaming so beloved by the OSR, which is why dungeons tend to be filled by roguish heroes and wandering murder-hobos. Preserving the status quo is an inherently reactionary position to take up, and that's why Superman makes no sense as a hero in a sandbox - he needs an active threat, a pre-meditated plot to respond to before his narrative actually takes place.

In contrast, making the heroes of your game revolutionaries fighting against a capitalistic status quo makes perfect sense from a sandbox perspective, and from an anarchist perspective where all power is inherently suspect, your freedom fighters are the upstanding moral heroes. When you compare the problem faced by the radicals with the problem faced by your traditional sandbox rogue, the inherent similarity of the narrative becomes obvious:

     The Rogue

1. The world is filled with horrible monsters.
2. We can't possibly kill all the monsters. 
3. But if we kill enough, we might save some people and get stinking rich from treasure.

     The Radical

1. The world is ruled by the corrupt and powerful.
2. We can't possibly destroy all of the corrupt power structures.
3. But if we destroy enough, we might lessen the burden of the proletariat or inspire a broader revolution.

Basically, you are building a game where the terrorists are the good guys. So what do you need to build a sandbox for a motley bunch of Marxist revolutionaries?

Characters & The Party

Characters should be drawn from the anarchists, the downtrodden, labour organisers, bohemians, radicals - those who have an interest in overthrowing the established power structures. In keeping with the tradition of sandbox adventurers, you don't want to create too much background for the characters, but they need to have a rationale for opposing the entrenched hierarchy. A random generator for motivations and radical affiliations is probably all you need; they can still be fighters, wizards, and rogues, but they're fighters, wizards, and rogues from outside the system's social consensus. If you have all the characters start off as members of some revolutionary cell or outlawed organisation, you've got all the motivation you need for the "adventurers" to start robbing some banks.

Experience Points & Rewards

There are a tonne of articles around the blogosphere explaining why the old-school "treasure for XP" mode of play helps deliver the ideal sandbox experience for roguish adventures. In short, the idea is that "treasure for XP" rewards inventive play in a way that "quest XP" or "monster XP" simply doesn't - you have no incentive to face that monster other than its treasure, and if you can steal or capture the treasure through other means beyond direct confrontation, you're just as well off.

This is the sort of play we want to encourage in our revolutionary PCs, but "treasure for XP" might not create the right kind of incentive. Our mystical Marxists aren't adventuring to gather wealth and become part of the establishment - they're here to bring down The Man, and liberate the proletariat from oppression. We're looking for something that encourages inventive play towards the destruction of capitalist power, not accumulation of it.

Option number one is simply to rephrase the idea of "treasure for XP". Instead of gaining XP per unit of wealth acquired, you could award XP per unit of capitalist wealth destroyed or redistributed to the oppressed classes. It's a reasonably simple method that might work if you want to keep the granularity of old-school experience systems.

A second option would be something similar to the experience model of Dungeon World, where experience is awarded based on a series of end-of-session questions answered by the party. All you have to do here is change the questions to something more appropriate for our anarchistic adventures. Instead of the questions:

• Did we learn something new and important about the world?
• Did we overcome a notable monster or enemy?
• Did we loot a memorable treasure?

and marking experience for each "Yes" answers, you might ask:

• Did we learn something new and important about the City?
• Did we overcome a notable source of oppression?
• Did we lessen the burden of the proletariat? 

and award experience on that basis.

Setting & Locales

The Marxist sandbox has to be a city - in fact, it has to be the City. The traditional sandbox might be a border region perched on the edge of a monster-filled wilderness, but Marxist fantasy simply doesn't happen without industrial smokestacks belching forth noxious gasses in a city heaving with oppression, and the PCs can't be oppressed if they can simple escape the oppressor's power by leaving the city. It is a place like Sigil, or Sharn, or MoBu City - a city that's a world within itself. It should sprawl over many varied districts, each with their own unique character, some impoverished and ruined, others decadent and corrupt. Mapping the city probably defies logic and the ability of the game master, but Chris Kutalik might help. You might want to write a random generator for neighbourhoods, or steal an existing city and turn it in upon itself, using the perspective of a bottom-rung anarchist.

James Maliszewski talks about the importance of locales to the old-school method of play with his usual eloquence here; sandbox games don't run on pre-written plots. They need baroque locales for adventures to plunder and depths for adventurers to plumb. In a traditional sandbox, these are ancient tombs, lost temples, and haunted caverns. Our Marxist sandbox will instead be populated with mansions of venal judges and captains of industry, hellish factories, opulent banks, guard barracks, and corrupt temples. You can even have dungeons and caverns beneath the City, populated by the local powers of the underworld. Each locale should be ruled by some element of the oppressive hierarchy, the monstrous rulers of our anarchists' nightmarish world. In a twist on the traditional idea of the monster's lair, the various elements of a specific reactionary power's base may not all be located in one area. A bank may have branches across town, the town guards are certain to have many watch-houses, and an underworld figure may own several establishments across the City. You should treat these in some way as being part of the same adventure locale; if the players want to destroy the bankers' power, they may have to hit several different branches, or perhaps they just have to kidnap the owner from his harem-palace in the High Tower and hold him to ransom.

Monsters & Antagonists

The antagonists of your Marxist sandbox will be the varied agents of oppression. Since this is a fantasy game, you should make them as monstrous as possible; the high priest isn't just corrupt, he's a vampire. The secret police might employ mind flayers to rip the secrets from captured revolutionaries, or the underworld mob boss could literally be an ogre. Generally speaking, you can divide up your antagonists into a few categories:

• Predators: those who feed on the suffering of the populace, either literally or metaphorically. Opiates and Enforcers serve their needs, if perhaps indirectly. 
• Opiates: those who try to keep the populace ignorant of their suffering. 
• Enforcers: those who keep the boot on the neck those who try to rise up above their assigned station.
• Destroyers: the dark side of your revolutionary protagonists, these are not oppressors but instead destructive forces who aim to break everything down, not just the agents of oppression.

The front structure of Dungeon World might be an inspiration here when it comes to designing your sandbox, but with an important difference: the villains of the City are, with the exception of the destroyers, concerned with the maintenance of the status quo, not its downfall. In fact, this idea is what makes the City such an excellent sandbox for old-school gaming - the status quo mirrors the initial situation of a wilderness sandbox, infested with monsters and hostile to human life. Without the character's intervention, the machinery of oppression will simply continue to grind away, a boot stamping on the face of humanity forever. 

Note: this post has been edited to remove references to a litigious individual

Arrows of Dragonslaying

Dragons are hard to kill. This really shouldn't surprise anybody. I mean, they're giant armoured flying lizards. Clearly any prospective dragon-slayer, or for that matter, any king with a large treasury and a smidgeon of healthy paranoia, will want something to use as an equalizer in a prospective battle.

Setting aside converted siege weapons, asbestos-coated armour and the rare wizard both powerful enough to battle a dragon and crazy enough to try, the best equalizer are magically prepared arrows of dragonslaying.

Admittedly, the name is a bit of a misnomer, as they can't actually kill a dragon except by a truly lucky shot, but unlike normal arrows they entirely ignore the dragon's ridiculously tough hide, and cause debilitating pain quite out of proportion to the amount of damage they inflict. These features are what they're sought for. Being able to hit a dragon's armour and still cause it to fall out of the sky from sheer shock is a big help.

Perhaps ironically, they're quite rare due to the fact they're made out of dragon parts.

Before the magic spell that imbues the arrows with their power can be cast, the heads of the arrows have to be made from dragon claws (in case you were wondering, a given dragon has from six to twenty-two claws, depending on its physical layout).

The next stage, once the heads have been made and affixed to a suitable shaft is to soak the arrows in the still-warm blood of a recently killed dragon.

Because the claws are even harder than the dragon's hide and filing them down to the proper shape can take days, and the blood cannot be more than half an hour old, for every quiver of arrows, two dragons have to slain.

Which explains why they're so amazingly expensive.

The Icebone Wand of Arng-Duvool

(this item came about thanks to my ruminating on One-Ring-Like artefacts in D&D-like campaigns, and how one has to make sure they're more dangerous in the hands of the bad guy than they are useful in the hands of the PCs, otherwise the whole dynamic shifts a heap, and you're dealing with a different kind of scenario)

Believed to have been crafted from the thighbone of a god or demigod, killed to free the world from the last ice age, the Icebone Wand of Arng-Duvool holds vast magical power, far beyond that of most mortal mages, and can be wielded by any being who possesses the will to do so, even if they are not themselves a mage or wizard. It would be the ultimate weapon, did it not possess a severe flaw: when its power is used, it saps heat from the user. Even a small manifestation of its magic can leave a wielder shivering and in desperate need of a warm fire, and any serious spellwork will cause frostbite and hypothermia, or even death by flash-freezing.

But for a lich, an undead abomination composed of only a skeleton, unable to feel winter's chill, the wand would be the ultimate prize...

[To Coin a World] A Brief History of the Grand Reman League

The Fall of the Reman Empire

Reme at its height, 1559AUC

A thousand years ago, the known world, from Aratha to Soleille to Zwuyala, was ruled from the great city of Reme. From humble beginning as a city founded by twin orphans, Reme grew to become the largest city on the coin, its streets thronging with the press of a million citizens. Its legions and tribunes enforced a long era of peace and prosperity. Elven princes paid tribute to the Reman emperors, the first human rulers to be acknowledged on a more-or-less equal basis, and fought together with them in the War of the Lunar Frog and other great conflicts against evil. It seemed that, within the reach of Reme, the Coin's centennial cycle of great kingdoms rising only to be smashed by barbarians and black-hearted sorcerers had come to an end.

It was instead perhaps an interregnum. As peace reigned across Spindlewick, the Reman elites grew decadent and perverse, delving into the pursuit of obscene luxury. Taxes raised from the provinces that once paid the salary of the legionnaires now went straight to the banquet tables of senators and patricians. Border forts crumbled, the provinces went undefended, and the famous Reman roads fell into disrepair. Over the years, the Palace of the Ceasars was given over to a series of terrible Emperors, who alternated between mad, bad, and merely extremely corrupt. In 1889AUC, the Imperial family gave up on the whole game and decided to sell the entire Empire at open auction to the highest bidder.

This turned out to be not a very good idea.

The Not Very Light Ages

It was a bit shit all around, to be honest

In the chaos following the Leveraged Sell-Out, the remnants of the Empire collapsed as waves of barbarian invaders swarmed across the frontiers. Amongst them were the Bellagoths, a clan of female vampire-worshippers who would go on to establish the Republic of Orzovia, and the Ostremos, whose chieftain famously stopped at the gates of ruined Reme itself and declared it wasn't worth the effort of conquering. The elves retreated into their forests, the dwarves into their mountain halls. Spindlewick was plunged into an age of terror, decay, and barbarity.

In most of the former empire, this lead to several hundred years of petty kings, bandit chieftain, feudal squabbles, and general abuse of the peasantry. One remote province of the Empire, Cisrhania, was particularly devastated after the fall. As the Reman rule over the monstrous tribes of the Worse Lands collapsed, the dark sorcerer Morevac the Merciless gathered them together into an immense horde. In 1939AUC, his dark forces surged across the Rhâne river, and set the province alight from end to end. From his black tower of Rhâner Khal, Morevac consolidated his rule, condemning the province to oppression and darkness.

And thus it was, for more than five hundred years; enough time for the people of Spindlewick to forget the glories of the Reman Empire, and become accustomed to poverty, deprivation, and a general lack of joy. It would only be in the late 2400s, when a humble merchant from the tiny village of Waldorf-on-the-Rhâne fought off a tribe of goblin bandits in the Disenchanted Forest. Examining the corpses, the merchant, Astrid Kratzburg, was startled to discover that the straggly goblin bandits carried an immense amount of Reman jewelry, much marked with the paisley wreath of the Ceasars. When she followed the trail back to their makeshift camp, she was startled to discover that the original bearer bond granting dominion over the Reman Empire had been held within the hands of goblin bandits for the past three hundred years.

The Merchant Empress Rises

Astrid von Kratzburg, first Kaiserina of the Reunited Imperium

The young merchant had been a minor participant for some time in the underground resistance to Morevac's rule, and with this document, she saw the key to defeating him. With perhaps dubious legal grounding, but the best of intentions, she declared herself Empress of the Reman Empire, and set to gathering together a base of support. Her allies within the Cisrhanian underground were easy to convince; with the sale of much of the Reman crown jewels, she was even able to hire a reasonable number of mercenaries. A small army began to gather under her auspices on the outskirts of the Disenchanted Forest, but it would never be enough to defeat Morevac with his sorcerous supremacy and his monstrous allies. For that, she would need allies.

A plan was hatched. Years as a only somewhat honest merchant had given Astrid a keen eye for the credulous, and when Prince Relathio of the Dawnwind Elves came to her attention, she was ready for him. Relathio was a fine specimen of Elvish nobility; graceful, gallant, and about as gullible as a guppy. Using her newfound imperiousness, she convinced Relathio of the existence of an ancient treaty between the Reman Emperors and the Dawnwind Elves, promising martial assistance in times of need. Relathio and the Dawnwind Elves, who had in any case not particularly noticed the fall of the Reman Empire in the first place, gracefully acceded to assist.

With the support of the Dawnwind Elves guaranteed, nearby baronies flocked quickly to Astrid's banner. Haggling over the price of salted eels and spoiled eggs had given the new Empress better training in diplomacy than most noble academies, and she easily won the petty barons to her side with promises of autonomy within a new Imperial League. Even the burghers of Pyresburg were won to her side with trading concessions and fiery oratory. With her hard-won allies, the Empress was ready to free Cisrhania from the rule of Morevac.

A bickering collection of mercenaries, elven nobles, and petty militia would have been no match for the orcs, ogres, goblins, and monsters that made up Morevac's guards, let alone his mystic power. However, a Reman legion, led personally into battle by its Empress, turned out to be more than a match for the Shadow Over Cisrhania. In pitched battle upon the grassy fields before Waldorf-on-the-Rhâne, the League's forces shattered the armies of Morevac. Auxiliaries stormed his fortress of Rhâner Khal, freeing his tormented captives and destroying his obscene experiments. As he fled Cisrhania for Orghosh Pass and the Blackstone Mountains, Morevac himself was hunted down and captured by elven windrunners.

As Morevac hung from his noose in Waldorf's town square, Astrid Kratzburg, proclaimed the rebirth of the glorious Reman Empire; or to be more accurate, the birth of a new Imperium, more league than empire, more Cisrhanian than Reman, built not to service the needs of a single city but to protect the freedom of the many. And Waldorf-on-the-Rhâne, her home, the village held so long under the shadow of sorcerous rule, would be its new capital.

An Imperial Renaissance

The Rhânebridge at Waldorf

Under the rule of Empress Astrid, Waldorf would grow from a tiny thorp to a bustling burg, and her reborn Imperium would expand at a similar pace. Astrid established a framework that made it simple for baronies and petty kingdoms to join the league, without sacrificing any of their power. Kingdoms would become grand duchies within the league, with the right to send Electors to the Imperial College in Waldorf and choose the new Kaiser upon the death of the old. In return, they would gain trade concessions, open their borders to the elves, and membership in a pact of mutual protection. It was an appealing recipe, and it brought kingdoms into the new empire like seagulls to a picnic.

A new age of prosperity dawned in central Spindlewick. Merchants and pilgrims could freely travel the breadth of the Empire without concern for borders and tariffs. The elven forests were opened once more, and the dwarven holds reestablished their trade missions missions in the lowlands. Imperial levies held the dark tribes of the Worse Lands at bay, and even the raiders and pirates of the Friendly Sea kept to their hidden ports. A brief period of uncertainty reigned upon the death of Empress Astrid, but the confirmation as Kaiser of her son, Ulrich Remulus von Kratzburg, stilled any movements of discontent.

Ulrich proved just as capable a leader as his mother. In his reign, the wizarding academy of Phagemorts would be established to give the Imperium a sound source of sorcerous talent, and the first of many wars against against the Kingdom of Soleille would be fought and won. Later successors would establish a network of Imperial roads and canals, extend the reach of the Reman league to colonies in Zwuyala, Yonda, and further afield, and fight glorious wars against the enemies of the Grand Reman League.

Modernity and the Grand Reman League

A street-level view of modern Waldorf

Four hundred years after the death of the Empress Astrid, the empire she founded has lost none of its diversity and vibrancy, but perhaps it has lost most of the unity it once had. According to a commonly held saying, the Grand Reman League "is neither particularly grand, nor does it include the city of Reme within its borders, and is only a league in the sense of a grudgeball league, in that it is an excuse for its members to dress up in funny colours and beat the stuffing out of one another".

Its last real exhibition of unity was during the war against Soleille a hundred years ago, fought over the absorption of the crescent city of Languille as an Imperial electorate. The only wars that have been fought lately have been between duchies, not beyond the Empire's borders, and the current Emperor, Otto Herbert Kratzburg Franz von Sumpfkastell, also known as Otto the Useless, owes his election as much to the mutual hatred of the other candidates as it does to his delicate political marriage. Within the borders of the league, bandit chieftains and goblin tribes are becoming bolder than even before, attacking larger caravans and even small villages and baronies.

Still, the Grand Reman League is still the dynamic heart of Spindlewick; its workshops export manufactured goods to the entire continent, its finest sorcerers could match spells with any the Coin have to offer, its trading companies reach across oceans, and its distant colonies still pay heed and tribute to the motherland. As the Coin flips into a new age, it remains to be seen whether the future lies with the Ceasars of Waldorf, but it is almost certain that the pieces that make up the Reman League have important parts to play.

[To Coin a World] The Elves of Yonda and the Downunderdark

As mentioned in my previous post, wizards are a repressed minority in elvish society. But as John asked in the comments, why didn't they just rise up and overthrow their magically-powerless subjugators and declare the elf kingdoms and magocracy?

Well, a few generations ago (which, considering the elvish lifespan, means quite a long time by most standards) that's exactly what the wizards tried. At the time, there were even more elvish wizards than there are now... but they still failed. Elves are actually rather bad at wizardry, taking decades to master arcane arts that the rarer human wizard can master in a few years.

While the elf wizards could do a whole slew of things that the warriors they battled could not, they in turn could not do a few things that the warriors could. Like wear armour. Or fight with a sword when they ran out of power. Or jog up some steps without getting winded. Ultimately, the wizards lost.

The survivors of the attempted rebellion were rounded up, and banished to the mainland of Yonda. While Yendys is a tropical paradise, Yonda is a sun-blasted, high-background-magic wasteland, infested with spiders and snakes and all manner of other poisonous monsters. Many of the exiles died, and those that didn't were warped and twisted. Their pasty complexions, the result of years spent studying indoors were burnt, their hair bleached, their eyes constantly irradiated by the arid climate and harsh sunlight. The magic of the land coupled with the peculiar biology of the elvish people meant that their descendants have obsidian-black skin, white hair, and sinister red eyes to this day. The survivors, after the first few years, got so sick of their prison continent that they took the desperate measure of burrowing and escape tunnel. Under the ocean. While this utterly insane idea was probably the result of extended sunstroke, it actually worked. The crust of the Coin is shot through with vast carven networks stretching from the Hublands all the way out to the Rim, and the "Dark" elf rebels took to these caverns, and mostly haven't returned to the surface since, so strong is their loathing of sunlight. They now have vast underground kingdoms, ruled by the best wizards among them, and have a long-standing hatred of their surface kin.

So, in short... the dark elves of the Coin are Australian Convict Wizards.

[OuterZone] A Frellig's Guide to the Outer Zone

Noaqha valik! Dorik alarqha, mukhazno - what, you don't speak Qharidian? In the Black Reaches? Frell me. Where the drek did you spin up from?

Earth? As in dirt? As in a planet? Never heard of it.

Qhara, this frellig's grazhom primitive. Spin me up another Draneerian brandy while I tell her - him? it? them? - how it is.

So you managed to scramble off your perfectly nice, if exceptionally primitive, dirtball, and make your way into the Great Expanse?

I've got news for you, frellig. You should have stayed home.

You Are Here

Alright, so you're here, in the outer reaches of the western spiral arm of the galaxy - you are from this galaxy, right? You're not sure? Drek, it doesn't matter. Basically, you're in the Outer Zone, friend, and that means you're outside what the Engineers call civilisation: the Web of Worlds...

...but not for long. This waystation - this whole system - is next on the slate for the Web, and that means the party's over soon. With the Web comes trade, tourism, industry, and the Enforcement Directorate. Those Engineer dreks love their Enforcement Directorate, and they're going to stamp their boot all over this part of space. No more free traders. No more psionicists. No more Salaacian spice and no more bad jokes about how many Engineers it takes to change a sparktube.

You see that family of Quineric grubs slobbering over all their worldly possessions over there? They know which side their ticket is punched on. A while ago, the Quineric states decided to stand up to the Engineers and keep the Tunneling Directorate away from their worlds. Engineers didn't like that. They infected the Quineric homeworld with artificial tubeworms that literally ate the planet, then they brought in an interdiction field that prevented the refugees from spinning out. Let them all starve in orbit around Quineria Prime, then trucked off the remains to use as construction material.

That's why people like me don't want to get caught up in the Web. We like flying free in the Great Black, even if it means the occasional pirate attack or Vagyr raid. We like planets that haven't been stamped out of the same Engineer mould, we like xenosex and psyborgasms and blowing our minds out on Salaacian spice, and we like not owing our livelihoods to a transstellar Directorate that might suddenly decide our whole planet is redundant and have it broken down for component minerals. We are the Unbound, and if we ever end up in the Web you might as well slice us in half with a Krazon sword.

Engineers

Who are the Engineers? There's three things to know about Engineers: first, they're ugly as frell. No-one's even worn the basic bipedal frame as poorly as they have. Fat, scaly, ridged, and ill-tempered, they're the last thing you want dancing on your tabletop. More than that, they're constantly sick with one ailment or another - at least when they're outside their precious immuno-controlled Web. Physically, they're a half-evolved race who should never have climbed out of the swamp - no match for a Krazon with a quick sword-arm or a Quineric warrior-wyrm.

Secondly, they hate chaos. Unpredictability and disorder are like thorns on scraping their thorax - they can't tolerate it. You want to upset an Engineer, challenge them to a game of chance-cubes. This is why the Enforcement Directorate stamps out freedom so conclusively - it's not within their psyche. You can't excrete drek in the Web without having your activities triple-checked against the Excretement Directorate's internal drones.

Thirdly, and most importantly, though they may be smart drekkers, they're completely psi-null as a species. They can't pilot spin-ships or master psionic arts, and they'll never bend a spoon - they need to hire other species to do it for them. Of course, it also means that mindwitches can't get inside their head, offer suggestions or twiddle with their thoughts. This is why they built the Web - a network of spin-gates completely independent of any sapient control that any idiot could use.

Psionics

You want to know more about psionics? Drek, I'm a mercenary, frellig, not a wizard. I'm not crazy enough nor focused enough to get into that stuff. Here's what I know: there's a world beyond our own. Maybe more than one. It's not like ours - it's more like, I don't know, some kind of negative space where all is one and one is all. You ask ten Dynock monks and they'll give you ten different answers. Let me pour myself another drink.

Basically, all sapients exert some kind of force on this... negative dimension. Psionicists learn to tap into it, to connect through it, to bend it to their will. Some of them can read your mind. Some of them can send thoughts across half a galaxy. Some of them could life up this table without moving and tear it half, or do the same to your internal organs. I once saw a Dynock monk stop a raging Krazon warrior without lifting a finger. Wasn't pretty.

The most common use is piloting spin-ships. Somehow, with the right technology and the right design, you can spin a whole vessel through a negative into the psychic maelstrom, and fly it between stars in the time it takes most species to spit. In fact, small, well-designed spin-ships can even be piloted by people who haven't taken the full-on crazy pill it takes to become a serious psi-wizard.

The crazy pill? Oh, you have to be a special kind of crazy to be a psionicist - the obsessive, focused kind that becomes a monk or a genius scientist. You have to give up the things in your life that tie you to this world to become more immersed in the other, or something along those lines. I really couldn't tell you why, but only the truly intense become psionicists, whether through faith or philosophy or sheer self-control.

Thing is, though, the Web's changing all that. The spin-gates exert such enormous force on the psychic maelstrom that they lock it down - not just for psionicists, but for the rest of us. Living in the Web is like living in place where all your sensory organs have been dulled. Lights are dimmer. Pleasure is less pleasurable, and pain is less painful. You smell that Draneerian brandy? Wouldn't have half the scent on a Web-world. It takes a drekked powerful psionicist to drive a spinship through a Web system, and they don't come around every day. Mind you, that's the way the Engineers like it. Psionics is like a cancer to them - a challenge to their well-ordered universe.

I hear they're building a spin-ship that flies itself, though, but rumours float like kretch-flies in this hole. My ship's leaving in five centrons. I suggest you take the next spin-ship out of here too.

[To Coin A World] The Republic of Orzovia

Vampires on The Coin used to be an endangered metaspecies. Plagued with bursts of anger and bloodrage, multiple weaknesses, and great powers which can be leveled against mortal and vampire alike, the vampires of old nearly wiped each other out. For when two vampires fight, the explosive mix of powers and weaknesses nigh-invariably favours the vampire who initiates the attack, whether simply in sneaking up on the other vampire, or seeking out knowledge and plotting an attack for years in advance. The result of this is that 99.9% of vampires encountered in the wilderness will the twitchy, paranoid, insane murderous bastards.

But not all vampires are loners.

The Republic of Orzorvia was founded by a clan of vampires in the unique position of rulership over a populace of humans, whom they planned to subjugate and feed on in a month-long orgy of blood. Yet when they were attacked by a rival gang of vampires that coveted their prize, the humans rose up to defend their masters, preferring a bloodsucking fiend they knew to one they didn't, and exploited common vampire weaknesses to destroy the newcomers.
The clan of vampires was both grateful and cunning, and realised that by ruling fairly over the populace and establishing a relationship based on trust with their subjects they would have a defence against the predations of other vampires and a constant source of blood, providing they took care not to overfeed.
To ensure the trust of their mortal citizens, they founded the first democracy, laying down a fair constitution which protected the rights of citizens of all kinds (but with preference to vampires), and in a masterstroke of political genius, installed a system in which every 13 years, when vampire Parliament runs its elections, one citizen, rewarded by other citizens for his/her bravery and service to the city-state would, through a complex voting process, ascend to vampirehood and be inducted into the heady world of Vampire Parliament.

There is a three stage process to Ascension:
Firstly, a petitioner must secure enough votes through a frenzy of campaigning from the mortal voting body to be one of the 13 Candidates for Ascension.
Secondly, a petitioner must be voted into ascension by the Vampire Parliament, and must campaign to the 13 different vampire clans for such an honour.
Thirdly, the 13 vampires clans must now each, in turn, plead their case to the petitioner, who will eventually choose one to be inducted into. This choice is important, as different clans have different weaknesses, and different levels of control over their new spawn...

Like many numbered groups throughout The Coin, the 13 Vampire Clans of Orzorvia comprise much more than 13 individual sub-metaspecies and voting bodies of vampire, as vampires are as commonly divided by bloodline characteristics as they are by seemingly inconsequential political factional allegiances. The 13 clans are really just 13 more-or-less united coalitions of fractious vampire clans.

Every vampire has a vote, and every vote counts, thus every vampire has the title of Count, even the lady vampires. The lower house of Vampire Parliament is known as the Hung Parliament, as every meeting is conducted with the vampires hanging upside-down from the rafters, in an homage to the bats from which most vampires are descended. The downside to this system is that it does make note-taking rather difficult, providing employment to a host of scribe-shadows which flit about the room and transcribe the proceedings.

Due to the diverse nature of vampire weaknesses, all holy symbols, garlic cloves, and silver items must be kept within the Metics Quarter of the City-State of Orzorvia, and are strictly regulated even therein.

Given the presence of such a utopian system of government in a mostly brutal and uncivilised area of The Coin, it is a wonder that the Orzorvians do not have problems with immigration. The answer lies in both the superstitions and fears of many inhabitants of The Coin concerning the undead, and also the Blightlands, an untamed strip of ghoul-infesting necromantically-blasted sunless badlands which surrounds Orzorvia proper. The various towers dotted around the Blightlands are nominally supposed to offer succour to hapless travellers, but in truth most of the vampires delegated to tower-duty are so bored that watching an occasional wanderer flee from ghouls is too entertaining to intervene in.

[The Coin] Ornithopters

image source

Some travel aloft on sky-ships, held aloft by arcane sigils and enchanted luftwood. Others prefer the more portable broomstick, or the well-crafted magic carpet. Other even transform themselves into birds, or entice wyverns into their service. On the Coin, means of subverting the ancient divine edict against mortal flight are as many and varied as the peoples who practice them. For the discerning traveler, however, one flying vehicle stands above them all - the Mynacean ornithopter.

Drawing on the mechanical ingenuity of Mynacean philosophers, the ornithopter lifts itself aloft on wooden wings. While some draw on arcane power or bottled lightning to power their wings, others simply rely on slaves or conscripts to provide their motive energy, commanded by the beat of a drum. It is this reliance on mortal drive, rather than mystical energies, that makes the ornithopter a truly remarkable aether-craft.

A well-built and fully crewed ornithopter can achieve speeds of up to 20 leagues an hour, making distances between the city-states vanish. However, they cannot fly for long before their crews tire, meaning over-ocean trips are strictly limited. Capacity for cargo is relatively limited, but they still carry messages and small cargoes of valuable or perishable goods between city-states.

The expense of ornithopter construction means few city-states can maintain large standing fleets, but the three great cities each have their own air-militias. The Liberans arm theirs with polished mirrors that reflect and focus the rays of the sun upon their enemies, while the Vulcanites prefer enchanted flame-gouts. The Maraphonians reject these weapons, and instead arm their ornithopters with enormous claws and jagged beaks, hoping to tear enemies apart from close quarters. (The Thanatoi do not use ornithopters, instead relying on undead wyverns and flying ghosts)

A small ornithopter capable of carrying five humans (at least two must have a Str of 14 or more) will set you back about fifty thousand gold drachma, while anything much larger will need to be commissioned from an ornithos at enormous expense.

Colony Five

Inspired by this post on RPGnet, but taken as an excuse to approach scifi with the sort of trope-filling gonzo-ness I like in my fantasy worlds.

The Elevator Pitch:
"Stargate Atlantis meets Farscape meets Red Dwarf meets Firefly. With just a hint of Star Wars and Indiana Jones"

The Full Details:
In the last years of the 21st century, Earth took its first steps into the galaxy, by sending out several sleeper ships to set up new colonies on habitable exoplanets. Some were sent by national governments, some were privately funded by eccentric trillionairs. The fifth ship was a cooperative effort by several nations working in tandem. Sadly, Sleeper Five ceased sending back telemetry a few years after it departed, and was presumed lost. History moved on.

Over the centuries that followed, humanity discovered faster than light travel, and the galaxy ws fully unlocked. The sleeper ships were actually overtaken by FTL vessels, although Sleeper Five was never found. Earth's nations explored the stars, exporting their hostilities to a grander scale, and roping in the technologically primitive aliens they found. Wars between opposing empires caused untold damage, but in the wake of these atrocities, in the new peace that followed, humanity found the utopia they'd sought for so long.

The Earth Empire, the first truly unified nation encompassing all humanity (and, to a lesser extent, the aliens) was set up, aided by the Great AI, a computer intelligence that encompassed the Empire's communication network, and was a part of every device in the Empire. A golden age flowered, with humanity wanting for less and less as the Great AI took over more and more responsibilities. Eventually, humanity as a whole was sitting in the lap of luxury, the Great AI tending to their every whim, responsible for all production and innovation, creating technological marvels that seem almost magical by today's standards.

Which was brilliant, up till the day the AI just... stopped. Nobody knows why. But little of the Empire's technology would run without it, and almost nobody remained who knew how to repair or operate anything. Within a year, 90% of humanity was dead, primarily from starvation.

Five hundred years later, the galaxy is just starting to rebuild, in places. The New Earth Empire, founded by a few worlds that were not hit as hard in the great crash, aims to bring back the glory days, although their methods are far from peaceful, and their technology, while on average better than that of most worlds, is nowhere near the heights of the Old Empire. The Fringe Worlds, sandwiched between the N.E.E. and an assortment of other stellar nations of varying viciousness, and the Wastelands that used to be the core of the Old Empire, are potentially in for a rough time.

And then Sleeper Five comes back, appearing out of an inexplicable aurora of light and peculiar sensor readings above a backwater fringe world. The inhabitants, a simple farming community, a couple of rogue archaeologists, and the independent trading ship that occasionally drops in to buy vegetables, are quite surprised, but not half as surprised as the crew of Sleeper Five.

The campaign revolves around the adventures of the Sleeper Five colonists, their farming friends, and the random interstellar hangers-on who've twigged that these people are the Next Big Thing, as they set up their colony, explore the ruins of the Old Empire, salvage bits of malfunctioning post-singularity technology, and fend off the depredations of various unpleasant people, aliens, robots, and other, stranger things.

eXPloration: the pictorial guide (part 2)

I'd just like to thank every artist who's fantastic work I've ripped off for this.

You also get 2 xp for visiting each of these locations...

The Pyrsburg, realm of mages and merchants, hub of trade (if you can read French, just ignore the text)

Al-Harraj, city of a thousand genies
Spinotaur City, center of learning in Zwuyala
The great city of the drow that nobody can pronounce the name of.
Cannon Valley, the ancient stronghold of the dwarves
Broken Glade, the elven retreat on Spindlewick
The very Edge of the World (although you have to look over it to get the XP)

I couldn't find a picture of Yendys, as nobody has ever felt inclined to draw Sydney as a fantasy city. I guess I'll just have to do it myself...

Also, Xp will be given for...

Getting ship-wrecked (unless you did it intentionally) - 1 xp
Watching a city burn (once per city) - 2 xp
Watching a dragon fly - 1xp
Flying on a dragon - 5xp (less for later dragon flights and other forms of aerial transport)

And that, for the moment, concludes the pictorial guide to eXPloration in Jarrah's campaign.

eXPloration: the pictorial guide (part 1)

really, as an artist, I should be doing these drawings myself, but instead I've just stolen them wholesale from around the internet. So, without further ado, some inspirational artwork to represent the various things you can earn exploration XP for in my campaign:


Gazing upon the Coin from one of it's three moons - 20xp

Climbing the Spindle, the mountain at the center of the world, home to the gods - 15xp
Visiting the secret grove of the high druids, or the hidden monastery of the Tax monks - 8xp

Cross the Spindlewick mountains, or the Great Howling Desert of Aratha - 5xp

To be continued...

The Corpse Star

The world is dying. As the Corpse Star rises in the black and hopeless sky, no sane creature can truly avoid knowing that the fate of the world is to be pulled into its gaping maw. The gods have long ago averted their gaze, children are born without souls, and corpses lie restless in their shallow graves.

Behold, the dark funeral crypts of the elves, prepared aeons ago to prepare for the prophesy of a dying world. Within their walls, the immortal ones wait, entombed in stone, for their final deaths.

Behold, the noisy feasting halls of the dwarves, gouging themselves to death in a centuries-long wake for the entire world. Hidden in chambers deep beneath the earth, they ignore the madness-inducing sky in favour of the endless feast.

Behold, the great silent horde of the orcs, carving a path across the star-ravaged plains to the very end of the world. Their lips sewn shut, they slaughter and destroy all they encounter in complete silence, to better hear the death throes of the spirits of the world.

Behold, the many empty vales of the halflings, long ago vanished into myth and legend. No man knows to whence they have gone, the only clue being the mad scrawls carved deep into each and every door, speaking of the croatoan.

Behold, the last desperate empire of man, its stepped temples stretching into the sky, a thousand hearts offered into the sky each day in a cruel parody of sacrifice. They hope to appease the maw and stay the death of the world, but their bloody works are all in vain.

The air is stale. Crops rot in the fields and fish float upon the surface of the stinking sea. Each and every sigil and omen and portent and sign points to a single thing: death, to all and everything that will ever be upon this world.

Some few still struggle to avert this terrible fate, but what hope can be held beneath the gaze of a hungry star?

Rolling Stones

Modernity has come to drag the sleepy hills of rain-soaked Llamedos into the Century of the Fruitbat.

Microlithics. It's the word that half the Disc is quickly learning to pronounce - the half that isn't still working on the fine art of pounding stones into each other's heads. In the heady atmosphere of Llamedos's Granite Valley, it seems like anyone can strike it rich. And that's exactly what Nap-y-Styr, druid, clacker, and sometime musician, planned to do.

If only someone had explained to him the finer points of guild law.

Now, he's on the lam from a pack of rabid lawyers, bounty hunters, and worse yet, musicians. He's falling in with entirely the wrong kind of pirate, falling in love with a girl who doesn't really exist, and unless he gets his act together, most likely soon falling down a few very steep flights of stairs.

Can Nap escape the Musician's Guild and keep his body intact? Will the "Musyc Box" destroy the Disc's creative industry? Can a stone circle find love? Who calls themselves Captain Torrent and expects to be taken seriously, anyway? Is there really no such thing as a free lunch?

[Campaign Ammo] Valefarer's Rest

The Valefarer's Rest is a famed tea-house and rest-stop, located deep within the Western Vale. It caters to wayfarers of all shapes and sizes, from the gentle giantkin to the mechanical globons. Run by an old and mysterious wizard, it often reshapes itself to meet the needs of its residents.

The Western Vale is home to dozens of small communities, from Gooseberry Patch to Treetop Village. Each lives in harmony with the forests and with each other. All races work and live in harmony, halflings alongside lizardkin, globons alongside bearkin.

But in recent months, strange and worrying events have started to take place in the Vale. The gooseberry harvest has failed, scouts and wayfarers from Treetop Village have disappeared in the wilderness, and strange black clouds have obscured the horizon to the east.

At the Valefarer's Rest, the traveller's sleep is disrupted by a red ent, a normally peaceful tree-folk, stumbling out of the woods and launching a violent and psychotic attack against the tea-house.

Three of the Rest's regular denizens manage to subdue and slay the mad ent, and discover that the ent's body is burned and covered with strange black soot. Embeddd in its bark is a strange, curved axe - carved with runes from an ancient language not seen in a thousand years: Inglisc.

The three travellers are behooved by the Valefarer himself to travel far into the East and discover the source of the black smoke.

they are:
*- Ssawk, a Saurian hunter from the Southern Village, on the edge of the Open Plains. He is a gruff veteran, suprised by little - and probably the closest thing to a warrior in the Vale.

- Clank Shaft, a young Globot on a vision-quest to find his path in life. He has never ventured beyond his home commune of Radiator Springs before, and is deeply curious about the world around him. He has learned to talk to nature spirits through an ancient device called a "Sylphone".

- Trixy Minx, a drifting Halfling trickster, exiled from her community for one too many cruel pranks and skipped days of labour. She's cleverer than most and quicker than a slippery fish, or at least when she's not smoking riverwort.

Inspirational Images:
Hillcomber Giant
Fantasy Hotel
The Valefarers

Rock the Underdark

The crowd is a shrieking, moaning, roaring mass of flesh and bone. It roils like an angry sea beneath the cavernous roof of the Pit, orcs jostling with gnolls for shoulder room, goblins climbing and scuttling everywhere. The troll bouncers make no attempt to control the crowd as it turns upon itself in anticipation. In the midst of the chaos, a single beam of light streams down, illuminating a circle on the stage.

A single dark elf steps out into the light, clutching an instrument that mixes a bass guitar with a dying baby. His hand is poised to strike.

A black, unearthly wail echoes out from the stage.

The crowd goes silent.

The band has begun to play.

Spark of Genius

I've been punting the idea of a game about a rock band since Guitar Hero first hit my living room. It's a simple formula - nearly everyone feels the desire to be a famous musician at some point in their life. Yet it never quite clicked for me, until I stumbled upon a children's book by Graeme Bass, The Worst Band In The Universe. Somewhere among the images of weird aliens wailing away on bizarre, impossible instruments I found the seed of an idea: monsters in a rock band.

And where better to find monsters than the Underdark?

The question is, where do I go from here? I can't quite find a game that lets me tell the stories I want to tell in this world. I want a game that emphasizes the way that the flaws of the characters drive the power of their music, and the difficult struggles within a band made up of orcs, elves, and ghouls. Traditional games are right out, and I can't quite find the indy game that hacks in the way I want it to. I may have to build one myself.