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we're on bluesky now, for those interested.

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new video:

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THREE MEN, A DWARF, AND A WOMAN'S SHADOW MET AT A DOOR AT MIDNIGHT

I may have been a little unfair about the story explanation. I felt so before the second session which I had recently, but I'd have a hard time proving that so you'll just have to believe me.

They were drawn to that door in the market, having had a vision of the woman hiding a card away in the first book she could find, by the pressentiment of danger, an ounce of fate. Neru's shadow fumbled at the lock until a tall man clad in armor jogged to the door and bumped into her. Not finding the shadow curious, he kindly requested she cease invisibility, then whispered asking why she was invisible. Neru explained she needed to open the door, to which this man called Final turned the handle hard and pushed on the door, it did not budge, but interrupted Neru's careful work. She asked him to stop, and he did. It became a queue when Angus the robed dwarf arrived asking if the man in front of him was here for the shop too, and whether or not the two were here for the same thing. Then Auk, who wore chainmail, asked whether they were in a hurry, to which the shadow of a woman cast a spell to rattle the door open. Devil magic was flung at Neru, who deflected it before dodging aside. Auk ran around to the back of the shop while they fought for the doorway. Final drew twin blades and engaged the clawed beast which blooded him, but he cleaved it in twain before being forced out of the doorway by a second creature of metal and rust. He disengaged.

Auk found there were in fact no windows and so cast a spell to create one. Neru yelled "She's dead!" Auk paused to think, and breached the passage. Empty but for the books spilled on the ground, and the one from the dream. He grabbed it and conspicuous, ran to where the fighting started. The demons were screaming for /it/, whatever /it/ was, but they didn't know about the book. Angus cast away his robe like a wrestler, grew into a giant and wrestled it away. They hurled each other, then hurled rusted metal which became molten and useless under Angus's counters. A third beast like the first changed out, to which Final, having killed the first engaged. Then something he couldn't see struck at him, blooding him a second time. Neru countered the creature's magics and movement, it would flicker and fade. She healed him with a word, and reinvogorated, he reengaged. When the invisible thing would strike at him, she should shout to dodge, and he would, then turn away to fight the third, which he could see, which bloodied him just before Raxis stabbed it in the back, and apologized for not being late. Then they fought it together, Raxis at it's back, Final at it's front, while being flanked by an invisible thing, which was in turn being flanked by Neru's magic, and soon Auk who stretched his limbs to stab at it from strange angles and far spaces. The fight began to turn, Final moved from beast to beast as they were engaged by the strangers, and fell them one by one.

Winded, Neru said "You're a whirlwind."

"I'm just a man." He cleaned his blades with an impatient flourish, and strode inside. Raxis followed him, made him sit down, and began to suture him back together.

"You got it." Neru said to Auk, to which he agreed, and began to read it aloud. Those and his thoughts, like where he supposed the important information was, scribbles, notes, annotations, though he could only speculate. Her name was Hajeck.

"I don't mind the scars," Final would say. "It doesn't hurt that bad -"

"You don't need to scar. Keep still." Raxis would answer. "You got surprised, then you got tired, then they kept hitting you. But you didn't die."

"No. I don't think I would have."

When Raxis was done, he examined the corpse professionally, aloud, to no-one in particular, to himself. While Auk admired the examination, Angus admired Auk's window, then examined the other rooms with Final. They spoke briefly on the fight. Neru explained the chalk map Hajeck made on the floor was the market square, it noted three stores. Afterward, Neru called the town guard. When Auk was done reading the ledger, he opened a book and read it aloud to Hajeck, who being dead, couldn't hear.

Raxis went outside with Angus to see if they could scavenge anything from the bodies, they found magical trinkets from each, except the rust creature. When the town guard arrived, Neru and Auk met them outside. Neru spoke with the captain, who took her word instead of the group's as he knew Neru. Auk asked if he could try to speak with Hajeck, to Neru, who understood, and asked the captain, who asked what that meant, and when Neru insisted, said yes.

Raxis muttered that the dead should stay dead, to which Auk with all seriousness agreed, and invited Raxis to watch. Seriousness was convincing, and Raxis, being serious, agreed. Auk lit a candle on a mortified severed hand, and spoke to a space above Hajeck. None save Auk could hear nor speak to the dead. To the captain with whom Auk planned his interview, Neru and Raxis, Auk spoke in a strange whispering mumble that wasn't the language they planned in. Hajeck was angry, more Hajeck was indignant about his death. Auk broke away from the interview and instead asked Hajeck about his funerary plans, and his next of kin. Hajeck requested her shop be burned, and the card brought away from the city. Auk answered the first would be harder than the second, before she deciding she didn't, after all, care about burning her shop, or even assembling her next of kin, for she had none, and would rather fade away, a long rest after what she thought was a long turmulous life. Auk was more patient than one needed, to a ghost, but before long the ghost of Hajeck would repeat her answers and sentiments, and Auk was convinced he was thorough enough. Auk conveyed the spirit's indignance, and his failure to obtain the answers to their questions, then the request the store be burned down to the Captain who said he would see what he could do.

[dicejar]

CLAVAGY AGAIN

Started another game with a GM that used to GM for me and some of my buddies. We spent about a month before christmas working on characters. Pathfinder's systems are pretty colorful, but it still feels like there's an oppressive focus on combat. We began, we had solo sessions to get us oriented, we did THE TASK at hand, then we were thrust into the next TASK at hand. We're on pretty hard rails so far, we haven't really tried to deviate yet, but somehow I'm expecting resistance when we inevitably try to. But when I was asked about the session I remember saying something ilke "seems like a good start" which, although truthful, I'm not sure if I share that optimism for the future of the game.

I've been stealing random bits from other fantasy I like, so now I'm an amalgam of references I don't think the other players understand, but at least I'm very colorful. I'm a wizard that deals in keys and doorways, belonging to an organization called the clavigers. I've decided the leaders of the clavigers are called Uncles and Aunties, they are long lived to the point of stasis. They could be like vampires or liches, or have whatever forms of long life.

We dealt with our individual problems, then joined together through visions that set us up together, and now we're a kind of amalgam of our own, driven, I think, by people who take up more space than other people. I'm not sure I want to just be driven around without my input, but I'm willing to be patient and see where I'm allowed to act. More curious I think is whether the world, the GM, will respond to me existing, or if the classic "GM only reacts to actors who take up space" will happen.

[dicejar]

new project

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ADVENTURES FROM THRESHOLD

THE CONSERVATORY

For moments the snow stopped falling, and Nettle listened to the scratching of scriveners below. The conservatory was built atop a library, where scriveners pondered texts written on papers processed by wasps like himself. After Threshold became more than a place, it's papery walls became home to a library. As the pages that formed the walls filled with knowledge, a creature called Five-Eyes pressed three eyes so close to the glass that it smudged. It began to detail the event on wasp-parchment the size of itself.

"What are you doing? I haven't started the weather yet," Nettle complained. Five-Eyes meandered on six legs to fetch another parchment, while Nettle fought the frustration of losing those precious snowless seconds. "Clumsy clumsy," Nettle muttered. Five-Eyes was constantly dropping charts and smudging the glass which Nettle now had to spend his time cleaning. "Is this really how you imagined your lot in life? Do you really find you're so suited to a life of stars and ink?" Five-Eyes thought it was rude for a Naiad like itself to move it's jaw in the presence of other insects but in light of the rapport with Nettle, Five-Eyes stroked Nettle with it's jaw. "Well, I wish the best for you." The matter was settled.

That moment of clear skies seemed to signal a change for Threshold. Nettle dictated the weather to Five-Eyes who secured the parchments with a spidersilk chord, and began down the trunk to the archives. Nettle cleaned the telescope as he muttered about his apprentice, and the state of apprenticeships in Threshold.

THE ARCHIVES

Historical documentation demanded literacy beyond measure, lights, parchment, and storage. The wasps provided parchment and storage. A large geode was provided by some clever moles, who labored for a time to install the reflecting crystals below the base of the hive. It was designed to reflect and refract light across the archive. And with light, archivists of all kinds toiled to crystal refractions at every hour.

Some of the scriveners were hard at work in the archive, reading and writing and translating, and condensing weather reports, and sometimes as they were meant to, building a meteorological body of works.

Clio understood the importance of her work since her family of mice were farmers, though sometimes she wondered if all the archivists understood that gravity. Cresika Newt loved gossip. In the afternoons she would hunt for it in the archives, hiding among the crystals, thinking gossip thoughts wondering where gossip hides. And before long she found herself in the restricted section, supposing the warnings were more like suggestions, and supposing again that nothing could hide from her after all. She would even ask that quiet mouse, Clio, to "Spill the tea, tell me everything!"

"I prefer coffee actually," Clio squeaked, "but I don't have any here and if I did, I wouldn't, that would be bad for the documents."

"Oh you," Cresika was musing and miming about her lot in life since she had just read something and liked it a lot, "this work is destined for the stage! How wonderful it would be to act The Epic of Magnolia Barns!" She held in her hands a document Clio had never seen before. "I should have been a playwrite! Or an actress!"

"Where did you get that?" Clio asked. "Wait, I thought you wanted to be a botanist," Clio squeaked.

"Oh, you, get with the times Clio, now it's all about the Epic of Magnolia Barnes! I've never wanted anything more than to give The Epic of Magniolia Barns the attention it deserves!"

"I thought you were doing all this so you could become a botanist!" That she used to go on about wanting to become a botanist, and had in fact completed almost every preparation to begin as a botanist. Cressika pauses, and Clio can see the gears turning in her head.

"Perhaps then it wasn't meant to be, just like their love, and just like this epic was cast away into the Restricted Section!" Cresika banishes the forbidden play into the shallow depths of the crystal archive. It feels as though it hangs in the air for a moment, and for the next moment Clio imagined it falling into some deep insurmountable hole in the cave. But there in the hall towards the restricted section, Clio felt the judging eyes of the other archivists. It lands harmlessly. But Clio cringes anyways. Cresika leaves.

The archive is quiet without Cressika. At first Clio waits, hoping for the responsible party to reappear, but all waiting does is build on Clio's curiosity, and responsibility. It takes a while longer for Clio to decide she must take this responsibility, though she tells herself she is concentrating on a translation, and didn't know there was a restricted section.

Cressika had not taken good care of the document. It was well worn, well read, if a bit damp, if only because Cressika is a bit damp by nature. With some work, this could be fully restored, Clio supposed it would be for the best if she kept it. But before she knows it, she has already found her way to the restricted section, which wasn't so hard to find at all. Five-Eyes is there, waiting and staring, and holding documents for processing, and before she can return the epic, they're back at her desk processing documents; Notes of a Wallfacer diary, from another solitary creature like itself from some waterdwelling cave below, An extremely current weather report, and a starmap. In hands and signs, Five-Eyes signals "These constellations: new. These: old. Speculation: astral drift has broken alignment. Curiosity unabated."

"You mice work too hard. Go and enjoy the party!" Fuzzy, a veteran archivist has been an archivist longer than most have been alive.

"But -"

"Go go go." Fuzzy meanders when words are unconvincing, then he turns off the lights, and repeats, "go go go. Enjoy yourselves! This is a special occasion!"

"But…"

"Query: Will there be grubs and meat this time?"

Clio nods, "I'm sure there will be."

THE HUNDRED HANDS

Barnabee frequented The Hundred Hands, a bar tended by hundred-handed-Basil, who had so many legs that some thought he had a million. That didn't sound right to Barnabee, but he couldn't argue since Bees were always better at music than math. "Hey Basil, the usual, put it on my tab." Basil prepares a drop of mead. There is no hope of Barnabee ever replaying his tab. It has been growing unconscionably, but the milipede makes exceptions for the Aruna Almus hive. Bees can have all the mead they want.

"How's hive life?"

"Hive life has been good. You know, the usual." Barnabee has been hiding the secret of his exile. Barnabee is unkempt, his fur is covered in old pollen he tells himself he has been saving for an emergency. When his life became an emergency, his criteria of emergency changed, and the pollen remained for yet more dire circumstances. Perhaps by now it is bad, but it is also for emergencies, so only an emergency will know.

"I envy hive life, you know, you have purpose and family, a warm place with food."

"Yeah?"

"Solitary life sucks. You have to work hard and make a living by yourself, you've got no-one to count on, and no-one counts on you."

"Oh. It can't be that bad, right? You're so free. No-one tells you what to do."

"I think you've got it all wrong. You've got it made with hive life. You've got everything a bug could dream of. Hive life must be swell, everything's planned out and figured out, and the queens have a vision for the future. Better yet, they've got a plan, and not just any plan, they know what to do because it's happened before, they remember their history and that doesn't happen with solitary bugs like us."

"Hey wait I recognize you." Primrose was another worker from Aruna Almus. "You're that exile! Boo! Get out of here!"

"I think you've made a mistake, Barnabee from your hive."

"Yeah, an exile! Barnabee you suck. You shouldn't be here, get out of here!" Primrose doesn't actually know why Barnabee is exiled, but Hive news travels fast. Bees trust hive news. Bees trust their own hive news and distrust other hives' news. Since Barnabee is now an other, he's also distrusted.

"It can't be all that bad. Be nice Primrose." Juniper is from the same hive, she trusts hive news, and accepts her friend's exile. She does not reconcile these two things, they are irreconcilable. Parts of Juniper's life have been irreconcilable for a while. Primrose becomes very aware he doesn't understand the noble machinations in the hive. Primrose sinks away, unity and hive and honey and all. "How've you been Barnabee?"

"I've been swell. I've found a little mushroom alcove, that's where I've been staying."

"Why don't you go there instead of here!?" Primrose is awkwardly avoiding Juniper, while definitely eavesdropping on Barnabee who he's decided he hates.

"I thought it'd be a nice change from the trees we bees are always in. I guess it's not the same as being in a hive, either. How have your dancing lessons been going?"

"I don't think I'm cut out to be a scout, I don't have any rhythm at all, so the other bees have trouble understanding my directions. I think I'll have to keep being a handmaiden for the queen."

"There's nothing wrong with that, is there?"

"You scouts just have so much fun exploring out there. For once I'd think I'd like to see what's out there and do some exploring too. But I don't know if I'd be able to find my way back. Are you ever worried about that?"

"I'm exiled, remember?"

"But you won't forget where the hive is, will you? Anyways it's been good to talk to you. I tried to memorize a little dance about where some recent pollen is, but I don't know if the directions are good, being me and all." Juniper is about to give away hive secrets, an offering of present friendship for past friendship. But Barnabee moves to leave.

"I hear Threshold's throwing a party." Basil said.

"Yeah. So?"

"There'll be food there. A lot of food. I hear they're swimming in it."

"No, I think I'd best be getting home. I have a mushroom to take care of you know." Basil gets rid of Barnabee's tab, while Barnabee assures mostly himself that everything will be fine.

Barnabee's mushroom has waited patiently for Barnbee to return. It has held out all it can, and when Barnabee arrives it collapses under the weight of the snow upon his approach.

Barnabee dreads the decision he'll have to make. With only one option he decides he'll have to visit Threshold after all.

THE SOLSTACE CELEBRATION

All seem to be welcome. The gates aren't barred, and all sorts of creatures funnel in to have their share of the feast. The mayor is on stage giving a speech talking about how swell everything is going.

Five-Eyes finds a grub and munches on it while listening to the speech. It's two larger compound eyes notice movement above, and Five-Eyes supposes it is a new ceremony. Except no-one is looking at them, and some of them are holding tools that might be weapons. Bats are climbing into Threshold through the roof. It's never seen bats inside Threshold before.

Five-Eyes asks in hands and signs if there are bats in Threshold. In hands and signs Five-Eyes motions his queries, but does not have a commanding presence. Where are the guards? Panic sets in as Five-Eyes considers that the guards are all here, and not at the guardhouse where he could quickly swim if something like this happened at any other time. The guards are out and about like all the other citizens of Threshold. Some are drunk. Others are listening to the Mayor, but not enough, since they probably hear enough of him during their work hours.

Five-Eyes skitters through the crowd, which fights his every attempt. They are mostly taller and bigger than Five-Eyes, who's body is like a worm's or a cricket's, or a small shrimp's, long and towards the ground. It weasels it's way through, sometimes making snapping sounds with it's jaw to ineffectually force people to move.

"Query: Are there bats in Threshold?"

"What's that? You'll have to talk, I don't know your language all that well." The Mayor says.

In a deep gravelly voice Five-Eyes asks "Are there bats in Threshold?"

"What's that? Bats? I don't think so!"

When Five-Eyes speaks, it speaks in an earthy tone, deep and cracklingly soft. "They're armed!"

"What? They have arms? I hope they have arms. I see you struggle all the time without arms. A mouth isn't a really good arm - " The bats spring into action, flying everywhere and driving the citizens of Threshold into panic. A bat flies low and brings the Mayor into the sky. Others are flying in groups scattering the crowd.

"Speculation: I will avenge you Mayor Thistlebottom." Five-Eyes turns it's attention elsewhere. Even the guard have scattered. Five-Eyes finds a group of guards at the boarder of Threshold, and tries to rally them into a formation. Everyone that is needed is here, it decides they must be coaxed into action. A contingency must be put into place, Five-Eyes conscripts four nearby citizens of threshold, and informs them of a plan. They run off in different directions.

Clio Mus is not paralyzed with fear. Clio Mus is succeeding in recording these events in detail. She notices the bats, she counts them, details their outfits and weapons, and the mice on their backs. The townsfolk are scattering. The mayor is kidnapped and handing a document to his captor. Clio notices this and writes it down. Clio notices the mayor handing a document off to his captor. She stares, and remembers a spell. She remembers she can do something to help and casts a spell into the air and bats and mice begin to fall asleep, else they begin to fight drowsiness.

The bat holding the Mayor begins to fall. The bat holding the mayor lets go of the mayor.

Barnabee who was enjoying a berry is assailed by a bandit, who literally takes the berry from his mouth. Barnabee cannot stand this insult, and draws a needle to defend his honor. They duel and their blades clash. Until he notices the Mayor falling from the sky. He doesn't know the mayor, but he knows the mayor is important, and this cannot stand. He flies into the sky and catches the mayor. Only the mayor is a Gerbil and very heavy. They're put into a spin, and they're still falling.

Clio notices the mayor and casts another spell. Their fall slows. Barnabee gets the mayor to safety, he decides the mayor's safety is his responsibility. He does not remember he is not part of threshold, but it feels natural to protect a leader.

The assailants escape with food, Five-Eyes organizes the guard and sends out messengers. As the guards begin to organize, the bandits start to make their way out of Threshold. Five-Eyes' rallying of troops begins to take motion as the remaining bats and rats retrieve their compatriots and make their way out of Threshold. They'd taken the food, packaged it, begin to leave with it. The guards chase the bandits out of Threshold, but no further. There's a lingering question of which units and who exactly is prone to disobeying the order to not chase the bandits further. Five-Eyes decides to think on that later.

Five-Eyes finds Captain Fennel and brings him to Mayor Thistlebottom to brief them on the situation. Five-Eyes begins to assess Captain Fennel's competence, and is displeased, calling on his designated powers as an astrologer to create a position above Fennel for himself, then a position besides Fennel for Barnabee as captain of the scouts, since Fennel would have his hands full. Fennel is assured he will be important in the days to come. Five-Eyes is hoping to not make an enemy of Fennel, while voicing the displeasure. Barnabee asks for a accommodations, food and shelter. Five-Eyes accepts. Since the details aren't worked out, Barnabee decides this means Captain Fennel will share his home. Captain Fennel accepts this too.

Thistlebottom privately admits to Clio he didn't intend for all the food to be stolen, that wasn't part of the deal.

[dicejar]

DiceJar 0 END: what could have been...

Being completed ghosted for a scheduled session once again, I suppose I should finally face the facts and call the campaign. Which is, of course, very disappointing.

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[dicejar]

DiceJar Campaign 0.3: Holes, Doors, and Blood (2020/03/13)

Finally killed my first PC as a GM!

Yup… Wasn’t intentional but… well, dice made things interesting, so I have to work with it.

We also didn’t have our rogue, which is unfortunate as she’s an enjoyable member, and also there were a lot of traps and locks this time.

The content went through almost the remainder of what was prepared for the previous session. I’d like to get through the content a little faster so the group can move on to actual role-play opportunities, instead of dungeon crawling. It’s an unfortunate result of my experimental Game Mastering a Module, and I’ll likely try and stick to homebrew in the future.

Or, at least, look for modules with more emphasis on socializing.

I did a medium job preparing this session. I got complacent and let the session slip far to the back of my mind leading up. I found my sweet spot session 2, so I need to keep that standard.

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[dicejar]

NO PLAN SURVIVES CONTACT WITH THE ENEMY

That would be a great line if it was connected to a more significant event. There have been two more adventures, or sessions rather. The second session involved going down a hallway, ignoring the wailing, then a puzzle room that involved water and keys. It was a nice puzzle, and that one needed a reasonable someone to have equipped a spell to see the magic keys from the non magic keys. Yot had such a spell equipped. He took off his armor to get closer to the keys, and acquire the relevant ones. I should have Mogui go back at some point to acquire one as a souvenire.

After Yot took the dive into the defunct fountain, Mogui offered him fire, to dry off. Without thinking Yot took the fire which floated above his hand, to which Mogui said “Be careful, it’s fire.”

Delilah received the keys while Yot was drying off and decided to venture down the hall, and found the statue traps. Afterward, she became wary of taking the lead. That kind of response is probably why so many playrs in DND are reluctant to move forward, moving forward is a kind of mexican standoff where the first person to move seems most likely to be punished for moving.

In the next room was a large room with two descending staircases, which became slides. Mogui was the first one down, and was downed by a trap golem within the first combat round. If Mogui had survived another round, he could have made it back up the slide stairs using his capabilities. Instead he was on the ground the first round of combat, while Yot came down to shield him, and Delilah pelted the golem with arrows. When that didn’t work, she took the keys to disable the golem.

The next moment is a lesson in player psychology. Having passed two rooms whose purpose was to trap the players, we were keenly aware of the possibility of traps, and since Mogui and Yot were wounded by the golem, we turned back. The GM told us to open the door past the golem after we rested, to which we did, and found trinkets of personal value and intent.

Mogui’s items were first since I had the most forwarning about this event. It would be a moment for the others to come up with personal effects on the spot. a family tree on an official scroll, granting his family official entry into the noble class. Courtesy of Lord Grey. The second item was a bloodroot wand, courtesy of Lady Grey.

Delilah was given her allowance and a bag of her favorite candy.

Yot described letters from various people he wronged. Until the GM stepped in to say the items were intended to be objects of affection, positive things. So the GM tried to push for the letters to be of a more positive expression, while Yot’s player noted that he interpreted the letters to be negative in nature.

Bean was missing. His item was a letter? Actually I don’t remember even though that was the first thing to happen in the next session.

The next room we entered branched off from the entrance. It was a trap room filled with pits and three switches we needed to find to open the door. There was a turn-like structure, and no stakes, and a lot of unnecessary rolling against traps that functionally weren’t an actual hinderence. The whole event felt like a big waste of time.

Yot separated himself from us, while Bean fell into holes constantly. Mogui managed to avoid them, and helped Bean up. There was an exchange where Mogui was awkwardly considering whether to use his staff or fumble through his supplies for a rope. I used the moment to load a chekov’s gun for the future. Bean was content to wait for help, and got out with the help of the rope. When Yot finally found himself in a hole, Mogui came to help. Yot couldn’t climb out of the hole with the help of a rope, so Mogui decided to try to help harder, and found himself falling into the hole. The GM decided on a strength roll, and I contested saying Mogui was not very strong. I don’t understand the physics of holes, but decided this was more entertaining. Bean comes along to help us out of the hole. It would have made more sense to decide Yot’s armor was hindering him, and that he’d need a solution involving that, something about the situation needing to change should have been a condition for rerolling, but it came down to basically deciding we didn’t want to deal with the pits anymore. And the GM agreeing we’d eventually make our way out.

So we leave the room. We find a room with a small fire in the center. There’s a corpse and some miscellanea. A shadow ghost appears from the fire. Yot and Bean take shots at it, I decide Mogui doesn’t attack the ghost. It didn’t make the first move, and besides, it’s a ghost. So Mogui paces anxiously trying to leave the room, except Yot and the ghost are fighting in the hallway. They pelt it with enough fire and arrows it eventually dies.

The next room is meticulously described in Pathfinder fashion. And then enemies appear. Four skeletons with AC 14. Mogui notices the skeletons are fumbling around, and opts to take advantage of that constantly hitting and running. Mostly Bean and Yot stand their ground, Bean repositioning to fire arrows. And for upwards of ten cycles we don’t manage to roll above 10. Mogui leads a skeleton away and locks it into the previous room. A moment after he returns Bean is downed by the bloody skeletons. Yot abandons his weapon in favor of fire. As Mogui notices he doesn’t have any healing potions, Bean bleeds out in the corner. Mogui becomes wounded enough he uses his trump card and becomes a tiger, and for the duration of three turns cannot roll above 5, meanwhile Yot is managing to set skeletons on fire. The fight concludes and if the ridiculousness that is roll20 hadn’t happened I probably wouldn’t have had as much fun.

Yot noted “The mayors going to be so mad at me.” as he was the closest thing to an adult. I think Besides him everyone else was somewhere from 12 to 14 years of age.

[dicejar]

DiceJar Campaign 0.2: ‘It sticks its nonexistent tongue out at you.’ (2020/01/31)

Shorter session this week, and also down a NavyDie due to work and him being a boring adult.

The section of the module I had prepared has four combat encounters, only one I could reasonably cut. I was trying to think of some way to abstract one down, since even two combats is a stretch.

Fortunately, we only got through half of the material I planned, so the third can be saved next time, with only one other fight left on the current floor (and I might be able to cut that one).

I also felt a lot less stressed this time. Players taking an active interest in when the session was happening, actually getting a second session, and having notes prepared put me in a better mindset. So that’s a good thing to know about myself!

Probably need to come up with a team name. Probably should ask the players to devise one.

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[dicejar]

DiceJar Campaign 0.1: A Slippery Slope (2020/01/03)

So I return to the mighty throne of the GM Screen! To pull the strings, interpret the weavings of fate, mold the world to my whims and desires!

However, I’m going from a module, namely Crypt of the Everflame, made famous by Trix’s adventures. So I’m treading old ground, though with fewer players, and only one returning from that adventure. The better part of a decade has passed since I played it, so plenty of details should’ve left the veterans.

The reason I’m playing out of the module is as a sort of learning experience: Viewing box text and published adventure design so that it may help develop my original adventures. As for why I chose this one: I really like the opening premise. New young adventures thrown together deliberately for their origin story. Often players get focused on making an exciting backstory that they forget to make what happens at the table be the most interesting part of their life. I think it’s charming.

It’s an element/theme I want to incorporate in future campaigns.

Anyways, how will the tomb dive go without Team Pesto?

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[dicejar]

HOPEFULLY THE SHORT ADVENTURE ISN’T ALREADY OVER

I meant to write about what happened two days ago two days ago, but I was some combination of tired and lonely and not willing to let the day end as it was. Great work me. Now my experience of DND is colored with having to be an adult the next day and go to work. And like the child of yesteryear I still have trouble managing that. But I’m here now and maybe that’s what matters. Speaking of which I was supposed to have two writeups, one about Heart of Crown and one about my Custom Draft project. But maybe because so much time has passed neither will happen.

ONWARDS

I’m playing the Crypt of the Everflame module with two friends from yesteryear and two people who aren’t quite friends yet. The characters are Delilah Dunfort, Yot, Bernard “Bean” Dipp, and Mogui. I’m already regretting choosing “Mogui”, it was an attempt to have a character with a meaningful ethnic background, but there’s wasn’t really room for me to put that forward in a way that wasn’t weird, so now I have a weird name that is a cultural reference to the band Mogwei and the character Mowgli from The Jungle Book, which I haven’t read or watched.

Mostly Yot and Bean Dipp bounce off of each other since they’re friends away from keyboard. Yot I believe is in his twenties and is some kind of cleric. Bean Dipp is a miser with a comedic obsession with a disease I’ve already forgotten. Delilah is a rich kid with more excitement than sense.

Individually we’d been confronted by the Mayor starting Mogui and ending with Delillah. We met as per the Mayor’s instructions, and I created my own narrative which was mostly ignored. One of Lord Grey’s packbeasts followed me because of some miscommunication. So we have a weird mostly inanimate bipedal packbeast traveling with us. We traveled for a day and were waylaid by illusory orcs. We traveled some more and camped, the night ended and we were attacked by wolves. We made our way to a lake and found the corpse of a bandit. We buried him in a shallow grave since we didn’t have tools. Then we found ourselves at a steep hillside, and made our way down in various ways. Delilah slid down part of the way, got hurt, then all of us made our way down carefully.

What I’ve learned is there’s a kind of action tax. If you try to do anything that isn’t just words, you’re followed up by a check of some kind which is an unintentional attempt to say “no” to that action. So either it’s the culture the GM and his friends bring to the table, but they add in their own kind of narrative exposition through their dialogue. Which is fine, more than fine, it’s likely positive for the culture of the table. Which leads me to wondering if the kinds of things I enjoy are just not going to be present. Or if I’m looking in the wrong places. That was a bit of a tangent and maybe on the negative side but I have a lot of trust in Sepiadice as the GM. It would be a stretch to say he’s never let me down, but if there’s ever a time going past a session one is viable, it would be now. Anyways, DND has historically had that kind of action-tax, or maybe it’s just always existed in my experience, but it’s limiting if it encroaches too much on actions-as-roleplaying. Delilah’s character has expressed herself the most in a combat situation. At the start of the fight, her instinct, not reaction, was to climb into a tree and try to take out the orc with a Javelin. The rest of us stood our ground. And Mogui has been the least expressive inside and outside of combat. Maybe it would be good for me to learn to have banter in-character. I’m sure I’ll figure something out.

I had an opportunity to express how I wanted Mogui to fight. Delilah climbed a tree and fired potshots from her shortbow. I should have described Mogui as covering his hand with his cloak and drawing and using a wand. Even if it’s not memorable I’d have been happy to at least express something as simple as that. It was in my head, it just never came out as words, and it’s still bugging me how simple it should have been.