Roleplaying Games


I’ve added a new “spacecraft construction” file that combines some of the rules from Serenity and Battlestar Galactica from which you could craft vessels for established properties like Star Trek or Babylon 5. It’s not set up for a GM or player to get into a lot of crunch — the fuel, cargo, and other aspects that were gone into in the Serenity RPG are stripped out and the weapons systems simplified to make converting other settings to Cortex easy. If you wanted to do a more Traveler-esque game, you might want to use these with the Serenity rules to give yourself a bit more realism.

Most players would probably agree that they want their characters to be hearty and hale — playing a weak or sick character is “no fun.” I would say that means they haven’t considered the role playing aspects that disease can bring to the table when a character has some kind of chronic injury or disease.

One of the player characters in a former Hollow Earth Expedition game had the flaw “dying” — in this case, he had emphysema from chain smoking (which he still was doing.) The character didn’t see much limit, mechanically, until he was pushing himself physically. For the most part, it entailed the player wheezing and coughing when playing the character — little touches that may the character realistic. But once in a foot chase, or a protracted fight, he was hampered in his dice pool from the disease. As a result, the character was the master of the knockout blow; if he couldn’t finish a fight in a few moves, he knew he would get put down. It required the player to think differently about what actions he could take in an action sequence, or if he should attempt to talk his way through encounters.

There’s a character mentioned in the piece on age from the other day that addresses the idea of chronic injury — a character that has back issues from skiing and car accidents, as well as a recent broken arm. His physical activity isn’t necessarily curtailed, save where the use of the arm or things like running are concerned. It’s mostly just roleplaying the fact he’s got a bad back.

Disease can be something as innocuous as allergies.  Most environmental allergies — hayfever and the like — are uncomfortable, can make the character tired and irritable (not to mention snuffling, sneezing, and blowing your nose have a tendency to give away your position at the most disadvantageous moments.) They can make for challenges that don’t have to be immediately life threatening, but can make for obstacles that need to be addressed in a different way. It’s hard to sneak up on someone when you’re in a coughing jag from your 3 pack a day habit, or you sneeze explosively in the middle of a car chase.

Chronic injuries could be something as small as arthritis — you are still functional, but maybe that heavy trigger pull on your revolver is problematic at the best of times — to missing limbs, which have an obvious limiting factor. But I’d point out there is a motorcycle racer in Australia missing his left leg and arm. It required modifying his bike, but he wins races. Similarly, this could lead a character in a game that might be considered “unplayable” to simply have to work around his issues.

One thing I’ve noted is that players tend to choose one of two age groups for their characters — they are either in the prime of their life, somewhere in the 20-something range, or they are very close to the age of the player themselves. For some types of campaign, the late teens/early 20s coming of age story is appropriate; a lot of fantasy campaigns, this is a good starting point for a first level character. For modern games, late 20s is usually the default starting age — this is about the period where a character would have finished college or whatever prior experience would give them the in two the spy/cop/mercenary world.

But some of the best characters I’ve seen in our games over the year were when folks broke the mould and played something different. One was an aging college professor/archeologist that was absent minded to the point of forgetting major details the players needed, the other was a 12 year old Chinese street urchin. Both characters required the players to think about what their player could do, how they would think, and what their limitations were…and for good characterization, it’s the weaknesses that make them interesting.

Most recently, we have a character who isn’t old — mid-40s — but who has had a few fairly traumatic accidents: a ski accident in his background that left the character with a chronic injury that hampered him in physical efforts. During the course of play, he’s been in a car accident that broke his arm (leaving him unable to fight or function for three months of game time), and who nearly had his neck broken in a fight. He’s a mess, and while he’s still young enough to be spry, the aches and pains are starting to catch up with him. Recently, the player started to reference his crappy reading eyesight, requiring him to use reading glasses. His vanity keeps him from using them as often as he should, but the character is more human for it.

The kid was a particular challenge for the player — how would a 12 year old peasant girl living on the streets of Shanghai react to things? She had to reach back to how she thought as a young girl to try and look at what would scare the character, how she would problem solve, and also had to take into account that the girl did not have the strength and training that some of the bad guys had. It broke her out of her comfort zone, but the player was able to come up with some unique solutions to some of the problems presented to her.

In a modern or sci-fi setting, it’s entirely possible for an older man or woman to be adventuring and be just as capable as their companions. Modern medicine, fitness, and diet allow for people to be active, strong, and resilient well into their 60s. They’re still rarely going to be holding the line in a foot race with a young man or woman, but they are realistically able to survive an action sequence. This isn’t so much the situation in the medieval period, where the average lifespan was 40 and hard living and bad diet broke a person much quicker. Bad medicine also meant injuries were more likely to be debilitating.

Thinking about not just the physical aspects of age, but the mental ones, is a good challenge for a player, as well. The youthful arrogance and feeling of invincibility disappears as one progresses through their 20s. The surety of their opinion gives way (if they’re paying attention) to an understanding they don’t know every damn thing. By 40, most folks have had kids and have priorities that match king or country; they also start to learn patience, or at least to tolerate things that might have caused non-career-enhancing actions (as a sergeant once described is to me.) Most of the folks I know over the age of 55 reach a point where, even if they give a shit, they often are willing to sit on the sidelines of an issue and see how it plays out. There’s also a feeling of entitlement that comes with aging, a different kind of arrogance that comes with looking at younger people doing the same stupid crap you did at their age, and knowing that no matter what you say, they’re going to do it anyway.

These kinds of insights that a player could glean from paying attention to the opinions and actions of their elders or the kids coming up behind them, could be useful in crafting an interesting and realistic character.

I’m getting in just under the wire here in the US for this month’s blog carnival, which is being hosted over at RPGBlogCarnivalLogocopyCasting Shadows.

This month’s theme was “Taking Charge”, and I found the various pieces regarding this a bit odd — almost none of them seemed to address what those two words — for me — implied. How and who takes charge in a role playing game campaign or session.

I’m, I suppose, pretty old-school in some ways, when it comes to the role of game mastering an RPG. I started playing around 1979ish (give or take a year; I honestly don’t remember) with the old box set of Dungeons & Dragons. The role of the DM, in those days, was antagonistic toward the players. You crafted a dungeon or other environment in which the players attempted to find treasure, kill monsters, or do some event that was central to the setting. You populated the play space with traps and opponents to challenge the players in what often seemed like a blatant attempt to do their characters in. The players were more the DM’s opponents; the character sheets might have stats, but ultimately, you as a player tried to outthink the DM. However, ultimately, the “DM was God” in those days.

I never really cottoned to the idea of gamemaster (note the shift of term) as antagonist. I wanted to craft situations and plot lines that the characters could respond to  and alter. Our little game group moved quickly out of D&D to TravellerGamma WorldTop Secret and James Bond — settling in mostly on JB:007. Despite the move to a more narrative style, as some might call it, the GM was still the guy that built the world, presented the adventuring opportunities, and ran the opposition. The GM was still in charge, and the players were still trying to overcome the obstacles he or she set.

The idea of balance of power between the player and the GM started to take a hold in the 1990s, and I found it tied to the White Wolf games of the time, where the gamemaster was more a arbiter, and the bulk of the “action” was interpersonal interaction. This idea of GM as simply a judge or just another player is particularly popular in the indie games of recent years. The players have the power to not just react to the story, but often to use mechanical aspects of the game to change the outcome of events or even the storyline itself. The GM is not in charge. Sometimes, they don’t even exist.

You can imagine what my preference is: I like a strong GM presence or involvement, but ultimately, the players have to do something…and that drives how the story unfolds. So how does a GM take charge without creating, as a recent commenter stated, “hack novelists [sic] shitty drama”?  You can present an interesting setting (in a lot of the bigger games or licensed settings, a lot of that legwork’s been down for you) or atmosphere — something particularly good for sandbox games — and incentivize the players to go after the adventure bread crumbs you drop by tying those adventures to their character’s motivations. If you are playing in a game where the characters are part of a hierarchical organization, this is relatively easy — a character in a military unit, a government organization, etc. has to follow the instructions of their leadership, or they get canned/court martialed/ or similarly penalized. They can riff on how they do something, but they are still running through the scenario.

Depending on what kind of game you are playing, taking charge could mean extensive planning and NPC creation — particularly useful in more crunchy espionage or mystery games. It could be wrangling the players to show up for game. I will usually toss out a “who’s in?” email once a week. We all know we’re playing weekly at a certain time and place, but sometimes schedules change, venues must be shifted. Knowing who is showing up is essential to knowing what you are doing as a GM.

But what about the other players..? How do they take charge? 1) Know your character and play them. Don’t sit on the sidelines (unless it’s someone else’s turn to shine at that moment. 2) Grab onto the clues or opportunities presented to the character and do something. Don’t sit there drinking Mountain Dew and eating pizza…play, Have fun. 3) Sometimes you’ll know where the GM is trying to get you to go. If the players don’t want to go there, try to give the GM some kind of opportunities to help you go elsewhere. If you want to figure out the plot, or get to the big fight scene the GM is trying to get you into…go for it. Embrace the story and the fun that creates will help everyone move the story alone. You won’t have to take charge — it’ll just happen.

 

While it’s unlikely to be something a GM might use in their Battlestar Galactica campaign, I was bored so I statted up the Libran Galleon from our recent session:

Libra, a Galleon of Kobol

A quick sketch i whipped up for the session...

A quick sketch i whipped up for the session…

Length: 4835’     Beam: 1896’     Draught: 1619’     Decks: 65     Crew Complement: Unknown     Max Complement: Est. 40,000

ATTRIBUTES: Agility d4, Strength d12+d8, Vitality d6, Alertness d8, Intelligence d8, Willpower d6

Secondary Attributes: Life Points 30,  Armor 4W, 4S; Initiative: d4+d8, Speed: 3 [SL/JC]

TRAITS: Memorable d4, Rushed Construction d4

SKILLS: Mechanical Engineering d6, Medical Expertise d6,  Perception d4, Pilot d4

AUXILIARY CRAFT: 10-15 transports [est.]

And another quick cross section for the session last week...

And another quick cross section for the session last week…

I saw a poster for this movie at the local indie movie house while out on a group motorcycle ride and lo! it was available on iTunes for rent. $3.99 and an hour and a half later, I had watched Zero Charisma — a little movie out of Chris Hardwick’s Nerdist duchy (it’s not quite an empire, yet.)

Zero Charisma centers around a small gaming group lead/ruled over by gamemaster Scott Weidermeyer, who is pretty much everything I counsel against on this blog. He’s an awful person in many respects — selfish, angry to the point of near constant abuse of everyone around him, insecure, and in his real life, a loser. (He works at a Chinese-owned eatery called, wonderfully, the Donut Taco Palace III.) Scott is leading his four friends…well, more like vassals, through three years of a quest that will eventually center on a showdown he’s been crafting in his mind. Problem: one of the gamers gets a phone call during their game (a major faux pas) and has a major row with his wife who is looking to leave him. He tells the group he can’t play anymore…ever.

It’s a huge blow to Scott, for whom the game is pretty much the only safe spot he has in life. His mother shows up later, having abandoned him and his grandmother to “grow marijuana in Mexico” and who is a worse person than her son. The grandmother is pretty abusive, but more in that disappointed-as-hell-in-you manner; she obviously loves him, but wants him to sort his shit.

The recruitment drive is on for a new player but most of the gamers, unfortunately for the group, know Scott. Finally, he stumbles onto a new prospect at the local game store he’d been fired from (and sales went up 200% — you know this guy, trust me, if you’ve been gaming awhile): Miles, a hipster-type who used to play D&D and thought it might be fun to find a game. Miles is everything Scott isn’t — personable, funny, talented, and successful — with a website on comics, movies, and gaming that had “millions” of viewers (versus Scott’s 14 visitors a week to his gaming blog.) He even shows up with a six pack for everyone the first night, which sets off alarm bells for Scott.

Almost immediately it’s a battle of wills between the two for who is going to control the game group, with outright conflict breaking out when Scott fudged a die roll to thwart Miles during a game, only to be outted by Miles hot-as-hell girlfriend. (“You don’t even know how to play!” “I know cheating when I see it.”)

Zero Charisma seems to be marketed as a comedy, but it’s not very funny — Scott is a tragic character in many ways, but is so unlikeable that he’s hard to identify with. His nemesis, Miles, is likeable but is hipster douchey, especially in a key scene at the denouement, so he’s a bit hard to side with. However, watching the movie I knew all these guys after 30 years of gaming. It was funny because so much of the stereotyping was true — but it’s stereotypes that were much more common in gaming 20 years ago. Had this been made in 1990, it would have been spot-on for much of the gaming community, but now it represents a small, and aging population.

The movie is stripped down and does a lot with a little. The writing is good, but there is a lack of respect for what gaming means to a lot of folks — something Role Models hit on much better. The acting is very good, with relative unknowns doing sterling service.

Overall, I’d put it in the “rent it or see it at a matinee” level of movie, if you’re a gamer. If not, I’d say pass on this one.

Tonight’s session revolved around the investigation of a galleon from Kobol, found orbiting the flux tube between a gas giant and it’s closest moon. The fleet had been looking for tylium to tank up, found it on this small moon that is on the verge of dropping into its parent gas giant — that planet badly attenuated by the nova that had created a planetary nebula around a white dwarf. The nebula has similar radiation signatures to Ragnar that damage Cylon circuitry…but also has high levels of gamma that make it unsafe for the fleet to hang in the area for long. (Inside the upper levels of the planet’s atmosphere, where the moon is scrapping, the magnetic field of the planet protects from that radiation…but the microwave interference is intense. The ship is just inside the atmosphere, and the mission must content with high winds, tremendous energy flows, and landing on a derelict that has a strongly charged hull.

The players stage a mission with the scientists they can find to work it: Baltar (now the new science minister for the fleet), an astronomer, a doctor and a few medical specialists, a deputy marshal with degrees in divinity, literature, and a minor in archeology. One of the PCs is playing Baltar, another one of the pilots on the mission. They have to fly through heavy chop, avoid the flux tube, and land the shuttle while making sure their shuttle’s electrical system is ready to handle the massive shock of touching down on the derelict. The landing is harsh and does some damage to the shuttle, but it’s still operational.

Once aboard the fan out and search a very small area of the craft. The hull is at an angle to the planet’s center of gravity, so “down” is about 25 degrees from the floor, toward the aft. They have to careful and most of the team got minor injuries slipping and falling. The descriptions of this ancient vessel were horror movie-esque: it’s dark, there’s the constant noise of the thin atmosphere outside hitting the hull and strange creaks and groans from a stressed hull and heat expansion and contraction. The ship has damage from millennia of exposure to the atmosphere, but also from weapons hits. They find bodies of the passengers, dead from explosive decompression. They find momentos — pictures, personal effects, all which evoke the same sense of panicked flight and loss as in their own fleet. These were people on the run, as well.

The interior is very stripped down; the ship was a refugee vessel — they didn’t bother with hiding wire conduits, air pipes, etc. They find toolboxes and other implements that are shockingly similar to what the Colonials use — screwdrivers, ratchet wrenches, staplers, etc. They see a large seal on the end of the hangar bay with a Phoenix symbol that is similar, but not the same as that of the Colonies. They find the astronomy compartment and star charts and other important pieces of information — most of it intact enough to take away, but who knows what will happen when it is exposed to air? They find the bridge, which I described to evoke the old McQuarrie design for Galactica from the original show…but sitting in the command chair is a massive figure — a blond man, of amazing physical beauty and proportions — 7 and a half to eight feet tall, well-preserved. He is dressed in black combat armor that has a vaguely Spartan quality to it, and is holding the pistol — perhaps an energy weapon — that he used to take his life. The sigil of Apollo adorns the armor.

They find the machine shops and they are staggering — 3D printers of incredibly advanced design for metal, plastics, flesh. And they find several gold-skinned androids fashioned to look like women, each with a unique face and body — the archeologist posits these are some of Hephaestus’ “golden women” that aided him in his forge. Their myth/religion is coming alive.

Eventually, they have to return to Galactica, which is providing overwatch for the mining vessels going after the tylium on the moon surface and we ended there for the night.

This was a big push episode — not only to push the game in a new direction from the show, but to heighten some of the conceits of the RDM Galactica — that the characters are playing out a variation of a story told over and over again, and how do they break the cycle? I’ve heightened the Greek myth aspects of the show and added more traditional science fiction elements — the Lord of Kobol existed, but were they simply some kind of souped-up humans, were they supernatural, and what was this “Blaze” that was warring on the Lords? Why did the humans have to flee Kobol, apparently guarded by Kobolians/Lord of Kobol? And who are the new humanoid Cylons — did the Cylons the Colonials created make these new fleshy versions (and why, if they despise humans so much?) or are they some kind of creation by Kobol? I’ve also pulled in elements from the old show — including the Ship of Light, which one of the PCs has seen in his visions of Kobol. But what is it — a ship?

Tonight’s adventure was fairly quick, partly because the player that runs a marine character didn’t show up — meaning a large portion of the action happened offscreen. In this, the players assault the mutineer-controlled Astral Queen. The last post talked about the deal that the PC commander had cut with one of the mutiny leaders, a Colonel Seii, and convinced him to aid in the raid of the prison barge by removing Tom Zarek from play, and how two other PCs — the vice president and a deputy marshal — had been captured.

The evening launched straight into the set-up. A raptor jams Astral Queen‘s DRADIS and comms while vipers set up a cordon. Four raptors approach — to are decoys and land on the hangar bays, trying to gain access, while another two deliver teams that burn through the hull to raid the ship with 20 marines (led by four officers — one of them a PC pilot.) The main conflict is quick — Seii had arranged for the main force of armed mutineers to be responding to the decoys while getting himself in close proximity to Zarek and his close confidants — and the mutineers are badly routed by the raptors using their navigation spotlights. (Anyone whose seen an aviation navlight knows they’ll burn your damned eyes out, practically. The pilot engaged a few bd guys, but quickly got to the bridge, where the vice president witnessed Seii staged a quick, violent takeover that killed Zarek.

The commander managed to portray the incident as infighting between the mutineers and painted Seii as a hero of the piece, hoping to bring the unjustly disgraced man into the Fleet again, and was able to convince the civilian authorities to go along with it.

The night’s action showed yet another sharp turn off from the show. Without Zarek as a constant distraction, the fleet politics are more stable, but it also allows one of the PCs — a member of the quorum, a former gang leader turned local politician, and unwilling ally of the Cylons in the fleet — to move into the main political antagonist for the game. There’s still the tension of the show, but the main characters of the show are steadily being sidelined for player characters and campaign-specific NPCs.

Next week: the Libran galleon mission.

Last week’s game session of Battlestar Galactica continued to see us pull from the RDM show, then twist it to fit our campaign. Events have led the fleet to look for more resources, as they don’t know how far their journey will take them. They’ve found tyllium on a moon in the upper levels of an attenuated gas giant in a highly hostile star system with a planetary nebula around a white dwarf. The radiation and ejecta are enough to be dangerous to the smaller ships, but also has the same Cylon-tech jamming signature of Ragnar. The upper atmosphere of the gas giant and it’s magnetic field cut much of the harmful radiation of the nebula, but has its own dangers.

They had found, in the previous night, a derelict galleon (they think) from Kobol that had the markings of the Libran tribe. They immediately add a mission to the hulk in addition to the mining operations they are going to have to run. The mining will be highly dangerous and the fleet population has been reticent to volunteer for hours of hard labor in a space suit exposed to high levels of radiation from the nebula and the planet’s electromagnetic field. As in the show, the vice president (a PC), decides to try and get some of the prisoners to volunteer for the work in exchange for points to release or expedited release for some of them.

As in Bastille Day, this leads to a hostage situation, with the Vice President, the Tauron delegate to the quorum (a former actress), and a PC police officer guarding them being taken by Tom Zarek and another leader of the mutiny — a new character named Janus Seii. Seii is a former colonel in the special forces that worked specifically for the Office of the President running high-level security checks, doing counterterroism, etc. He had been railroaded by the admiralty four years ago, allegedly for embezzlement of black bag funds, but there were always rumors that there was some political issue or that Seii had pissed off the wrong flag rank officers. He doesn’t even have a personnel file — he was being transferred under a simple convict number. Seii is convinced he was to be killed by some elements in the government and specifically the president, who was Minister of Defense at the time, and was not hot to save the colonel.

The prisoners move Astral Queen close to a few liners to prevent being shot down and issue an ultimatum — elections and release of the prisoners. The commander of Galactica (and son of the president) is a PC: he negotiates a meet with Seii in space, raptor to raptor and explains how the conditions in the fleet aren’t much better than prison, that they are willing to run elections — which were supposed to be in the offing in six months anyway, and agrees to release the 500 or so prisoners that haven’t taken part in the mutiny aboard Astral Queen. He has one condition for this — assassinate Tom Zarek. He’s a malcontent, arrested for terrorism and his first action is to take hostages and a ship. He’s a danger and will be divisive and dangerous force in the fleet. Seii agrees and offers to make sure the most dangerous of the prisoners are defending the ship when Galactica moves to board the vessel.

The sticking point is the president. The commander defends his father, but hears how Seii had been onto some kind of subversive or treasonous element in the contractors to the Fleet’s expeditionary fleet. He suspects he was onto the Cylon infiltrators that helped destroy their defenses, but he was shut down by large political forces — perhaps even President Adar — who were indebted to their contractors. Whether they knew it was Cylons, he doesn’t know. Whether the president is a Cylon “puppet”, he doesn’t know. They agree that the political and military leaders have to be tested for Cylon hardware, or bloodtests for being Cylons.

The evening ended there, but it’s opening the campaign to a new direction. Until this point, the characters were trying to follow the laws and norms of their society…now the commander is cutting corners. If it works, will he be horrified by his actions (or suffer consequences for acting without authorization by the civilian government), or if he’ll be tempted to take the easy route and start a slide toward military rule.

There was also a comedic/frightening bit with the Tauron delegate and the cop trying to escape that led him him getting beaten pretty badly, as well as discovering that the delegate is a drug addict. (They had arranged for first aid, took out the guard and prisoner/nurse, and “escaped” into the ship…where she helped him recover from his injuries with a judicious shot of morpha. She also partook. So, high as kites, outnumbered, and not overly competent, they were preparing to go Die Hard on the terrorists. Or hide. Or something…

The night’s play showed how you can take elements of a licensed property and play with them, keeping enough bits of an episode — in this case — to tease the players into thinking things might go one way, only to let their actions led you away from the path the original material took.

This gaming problem child can be a subset of the Mope or the Spotlight Hog: the Lone Wolf. The Lone Wolf is a gamer for whom the experience isn’t communal or cooperative; it’s their time to shine. This is the gamer that doesn’t play well with others, splits the party whenever he can, stabs his party-mates in the back, starts fights with other players, or is otherwise disruptive because it draws attention to them.

How do you handle the Lone Wolf? Depends on the nature of the creature. Is he actively disrupting the game with out-of-play comments, or taking actions in (or out) of game to annoy other players? Pull them aside at a break and explain to them that their behavior is unacceptable.

Do they keep splitting the party, then trying to keep the spotlight on them? You could go for the traditional hit them with more opposition than they can handle, but I like to keep the other players involved by having those players roll for the opposition. This can be a lot of fun for those not involved in the plot line to feel they are still involved in the social aspect of the game. (There’s also a lot of schadenfreude that can be enjoyed when that player rolls really well for the bad guys.)

Usually, the Lone Wolf isn’t going to hang in the game for too long, especially if they start noticing they are pissing off the rest of the group, or get called on their actions. But in the event they do, you may have to explain the concept of courtesy to them. In more extreme cases, it’s perfectly appropriate to show them the door.

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