"Your Own Cover Band"

I'm still hard at work finishing up the first draft of the second edition of Thousand Suns, so I'm not yet ready to return to regular blogging here. However, I recently read something that helped me organize some thoughts I'd been having for a while and I thought they might be worth sharing, especially in light of my advocacy for long RPG campaigns. 

As you know, I'm a big fan of science fiction. Truth be told, I much prefer sci-fi to fantasy, despite the fact that I've probably played more fantasy roleplaying games than science fiction ones over the course of the last 45 years of gaming. That said, I'm very particular about my science fiction. I don't like everything with a spaceship or robot on its cover and, as I get older, I find my tastes are getting ever more picky. Consequently, I tend to be skeptical when someone recommends that I pick up a new SF novel, because I've been burned one too many times in the past. I'd much rather reread an old classic than take a chance on new stuff and be disappointed.

Still, a friend of mine recently recommended I take a look at "The Captive's War" series by James S.A. Corey, who was also responsible for "The Expanse" (which I've never read). The new series is planned as a trilogy and the second volume just came out, only two years after the first one. Both of these facts piqued my interest, because I have no patience for interminable series or series whose volumes aren't released at regular intervals. I don't want to wait until I have one foot in the grave before I see the end of a story. 

Still, my natural apprehension made me look into these books a bit more before committing to reading them. I figured I owed it to myself to know what I might be getting into if I decided to take the plunge. In the process of doing so, I came across a recent interview with the "author" – really two authors,. Daniel Abraham and Ty Franck, with a shared pen name, but I'm sure most of you already know that – that includes some genuinely interesting and insightful comments about the writing process and ultimate direction of the series. It's these comments that sparked this post and about which I want to write for a bit before returning to the salt mines once again.

Consider, for example, the following:

“We live in a world where every large universe is supposed to be endlessly flogged,” Franck says. “Star Wars is never going to stop. It's told the same story a thousand times at this point. The evil Empire has been defeated over and over and over again. It always comes back. Plucky Rebels have to defeat the new iteration of it over and over and over again. It just endlessly repeats. And Star Trek is the same way. If you have a big universe, it is expected you will just keep dipping in that well over and over until you die, and then somebody else will take over and do it for you. Daniel and I don't enjoy that. We like endings. We like getting to an end: ‘Here's the end, and it's over.’”

I could probably devote several posts to the above alone, but instead I want to focus on what was said immediately after this: 

Franck credits Abraham for coming up with a saying that sums up their feelings about longrunning series: “At some point, if you keep going, you become your own cover band.”

“We never want to do that,” Franck says. “We never want to become our own cover band, where you're just endlessly repeating what you said, and writing a slightly different version of the same story you've written a thousand times before. That would bore the shit out of me.”

These comments really hit home, having just concluded my decade-long House of Worms Empire of the Petal Throne campaign last October. Since then, I've been regularly asked what I might do the next time I decide to referee a Tékumel campaign and my answer has always been, "Nothing: I don't plan to run a Tékumel campaign ever again." That's not for lack of love for the setting – quite the contrary, in fact. It's precisely because I do love Tékumel and all that my players and I did with it through the House of Worms campaign that I'll never touch it again. 

This is not a new point of view for me; I've articulated it before. I'm very much of the opinion that it's quite possible – probable even – that you can reach a point where there's nothing left to explore through a particular setting or game. I feel that way about Tékumel for certain and I probably feel that way about a number of other RPG settings I've played extensively over the years. Again, it's not for lack of affection for these settings. My disinterest in returning to, say, the Forgotten Realms says nothing about whether I like the setting, only that I feel I've sucked all the marrow from its bones and now am looking for new sources of nourishment.

When I say this, many people look at my like I've got two heads. Some have even tried to (gently) suggest that maybe I'm lacking in imagination if I think I couldn't run more adventures in this or that setting that they know and love. The truth is I could run more adventures or even whole campaigns in Tékumel or the Realms (or Star Trek or ...) but why would I? There are so many more worlds to explore through roleplaying. Why keep revisiting the same ones over and over again? 

That's what the quoted sections of the interview got me thinking about and I think it's a topic worthy of further discussion. There's a lot of talk these days about living in a "stuck culture" and I definitely think there's something to this. I may be old but that doesn't mean I want to see everything from my youth – never mind the youths of my parents – forever recycled. It's OK to move on. It's OK to seek out new things and new ideas. That I, writing on this blog of all places, am saying this probably means something. Just what I don't can't quite say. Perhaps that'll be another blog post when I find the time to write it.

Keep Them Hungry: Fading Suns Edition

One of these days, I'll need to do a proper campaign update for my Dark Between the Stars Fading Suns campaign, which I've been refereeing since October of last year. We're only twenty sessions in, but things are evolving quite nicely. The players have all settled into their characters and the characters are now well established within both the setting and the group. They've even added a new companion, an amnesiac Vorox named Guron, who'd previously been employed as a chef by Count Ennis, the governor of Pandemonium, the planet on which they're currently staying. We're still in the early days, especially compared to House of Worms, but things are going well and I have every reason to expect this campaign has taken root and will still be ongoing for some time to come.

However, there were a couple of minor incidents in yesterday's session that reminded me of a post I wrote almost a year ago. In that post, I noted that it's important to keep the characters "hungry," which is to say, they should always want more than what they're capable of acquiring. It doesn't matter what it is that they want – money, status, knowledge, etc. – only that their reach should exceed their grasp. I say this, because experience has shown me that it's a good driver of both individual adventures and the larger campaign. Want keeps the characters (and players) focused and motivated, which is important, particularly in the early weeks and months of a campaign, before other more "elevated" goals take center stage.

Which brings me to yesterday's session. The characters, led by Sir Yamashiro Li Halan, had returned to The Hub, Pandemonium's capital, after a sojourn in the Badlands. They'd come back to the city for several purposes, most importantly the acquisition of new equipment to replace gear used during their expedition. Initially, they thought this would be a simple matter, since Yamashiro is wealthy. However, as they soon discovered, he's only rich according to the prevailing standards of the Known Worlds. His annual income is 15,000 firebirds – not bad for a wandering wastrel and very good compared to, say, a skilled laborer whose monthly income is probably 20fb a month, but nowhere near as much as everyone had previously assumed.

This meant that the characters' upcoming spending spree was more constrained than anticipated. After several combats against various foes in the Badlands, it was decided both Father Kosta and Holai liTarken needed standard shields (at a cost of 500fb each). Additionally, they needed more ammunition. These small purchases alone added up to nearly 1500fb. That's nearly half of what Yamashiro had on hand. On top of that, the characters had "requisitioned" an air yacht registered to House Gilgar and needed to replace its transponder with one that recognized their current possession of it. This was beyond Iskander Ecevit's skills to on his own. Instead, he turned to his contacts in the Supreme Order of Engineers, who were suspicious of Yamashiro's claims to own the yacht (rightly so) and thus demanded 2000fb to replace the transponder in a timely manner.

Added to the other expenses already accrued, this exceeded Yamashiro's available funds. Never fear, though, as, at the same time the characters acquired the air yacht, they also acquired a case of blaster rifles that could easily be sold to the right people in the Hub – or so they thought. The task of fencing these weapons feel to Orphos the Scraver. It was a simple enough job that should have taken no effort at all. Unfortunately, a roll of 20 on any action is a critical failure and that's exactly what Orphos' player rolled. That brought the attention of the local constabulary, who after failing to extract a bribe from the Scraver to overlook his criminal activities, threw him in jail for the night, during which time they tried (without success) to find out who he was working for and how he'd obtained so many blaster rifles. Though he managed to throw them off the scent, he'd failed to find a buyer, leaving the characters without sufficient funds for all their expenses (and he was incarcerated).

The characters now have some choices to make and those choices will have consequences. Most likely they'll forgo a new transponder, the reasoning being that, so long as they continue to operate in the Badlands, they need not worry about anyone questioning whether they actually own the vehicle they're piloting. That comes with risk, of course, but probably smaller ones than having insufficient ammo or defenses. Choices like this may seem small but they're nonetheless important and I relish them, especially in the early days of a campaign. 

What Are You Playing Right Now?

I write a lot about the various roleplaying games I'm currently refereeing and/or playing, since it's good fodder for posts. It's also because I know many readers enjoy learning about which games I'm enjoying and what I'm doing with them. Truth be told, I feel similarly. I love hearing about the games others are playing and what's going in their adventures and campaigns. 

To that end, I'd like to return to some questions I asked here just a little over three years ago:

If you are currently playing in or refereeing a roleplaying game:

• What RPG(s) are playing/refereeing?
• How long have you been playing this/these particular campaign(s)?
• How often do you meet to play?

If you are not currently playing in or refereeing a roleplaying game:

• How long has it been since you last played/refereed?

Thanks in advance.

Urheim

Some of you may recall that, shortly after I resumed blogging in the late Summer of 2020, I began a public project – the Urheim megadungeon. Though the posts relating to it were well received, I eventually lost interest in continuing it, largely because I wasn't running Urheim. Instead, it was a purely theoretical pursuit, an attempt to do what I had hoped to do with Dwimmermount. Because I was doing it without any intention of making use of it, I didn't feel a connection to the megadungeon and abandoned it.

Recently, though, an opportunity to correct this has arisen. The Metamorphosis Alpha campaign I began last year is on hold, owing to the departure of a couple of players for several months. That led to some discussions with the remaining players, who felt it might be worthwhile to play something else until the absent players returned. When one of them admitted that he had never played a megadungeon-based campaign, the conclusion was obvious: I should referee one for him and, rather than returning to Dwimmermount, I would pick up Urheim where I left off.

For this campaign, I'll be using Old-School Essentials as its base, modified with some house rules I've assembled over the years. The house rules bring it closer to OD&D + Supplements – what I have, in the past, referred to as D&D 0.75 – which is my preferred version of the game. It's closer to the simplicity of pure LBB-only OD&D while also possessing more of the flavor of AD&D that I think a lot of people have as the default frame for conceiving of Dungeons & Dragons. Also included in my house rules are some unique races like the Gargantuas and unique classes like the beggar.

Of course, what really excites me about this is the opportunity to continue my development of Urheim in the context of actual play. While I don't think it's absolutely necessary that every piece of game writing must arise out of regular campaign play, I do think that writing that does is generally better and more vital. This is, I think, especially so in the case of megadungeons, which are generally so large that the only way to build them is a couple of steps ahead of the player characters – or so I have come to believe (perhaps I'll write about that in another post).

It's been a while since I last regularly refereed a megadungeon, so this will be a good experience for me as well. As the campaign develops (assuming it lasts for any length of time), I'll no doubt have thoughts to share, including additional details about the Telluria setting in which Urheim exists.

Tea Parties and Terror

Last week, I wrote briefly about events in my ongoing Dolmenwood campaign – which, strangely, still doesn't have a name – and the way those events brought humor to the fore. Today, I wanted to look at a slightly different aspect of the campaign: the ways in which I have changed the "official" setting and made it my own. To be clear, Dolmenwood's setting, the eponymous Dolmenwood itself, is very broadly drawn. Even though its amazing Campaign Book is over 450 pages long, most of the detail it provides is pretty sketchy, leaving lots of room for individual creativity. (To be even clearer: about 275 pages of the Campaign Book is devoted to one-page hex descriptions from which the referee can improvise. Dolmenwood is not Tékumel or Glorantha when it comes to source material.)

As I mentioned before, the characters are currently operating in and around Cobton-on-the-Shiver, a strange little village nestled in the Valley of Wise Beasts that's home to the Cobbins, small anthropomorphic animal-people given sentience by the nine-legged chaos godling known as the Nag-Lord – or Atanuwë to those who worship him, which the Cobbins do. The Nag-Lord is, for all intents in purposes, a Lovecraftian eldritch horror, equal parts Shub-Niggurath and Nyarlathotep. The Nag-Lord has is responsible for the creation of both the Crookhorn goat-men and the Cobbins, both of whom revere it as the Lord of Creation.

Atanuwë created the Cobbins as a lark, a dark joke. After all, what's more amusing than a bunch of talking, clothes-wearing, tea-drinking animal-people out of Beatrix Potter or Kenneth Grahame who worship and adore a hideous abomination like itself? While there are a few Cobbins who seek to throw off the yoke of the Nag-Lord and his Crookhorns, the vast majority of them do not. They're content to go about their usual business – fishing, sailing little boats, smoking pipes, etc. – because it's the only thing they know and the way it's always been.

The characters were hired by a member of the aforementioned Cobbin resistance, known as the Grey League. The characters went in, believing that the League, was a potent underground movement who only need some weapons and outside assistance to succeed in their goals. What they discovered, however, was that the League consisted of less than ten Cobbins, though their leader assured them that more could probably be roused to join them if they demonstrated the Crookhorns could be beaten. This did not fill the characters with hopeful feelings and indeed worried them somewhat.

With good reason, too! One of the things I've expanded upon in my version of Dolmenwood is that, because the Cobbins were created by the Nag-Lord, they genuinely, sincerely revere it as the Lord of Creation. Atanuwë did, after all, create them and they owe their very existence to it. This is not in spite of their cruel and darkly humorous treatment at the hands of the Crookhorns but because of it. My reasoning was that the Cobbins know nothing of the world beyond the Valley of Wise Beasts. Their frame of reference is completely warped, twisted by their limited experiences. To them, the Nag-Lord is a god and, because of that, the way it behaves is the way gods behave. Most simply can't conceive of a benevolent deity, nor can they imagine rebelling against the Lord of Creation.

None of this is, strictly speaking, contrary to anything that's stated about Cobbins in Dolmenwood, but it's not something that's explicit. It's something I teased out and developed for my campaign and it's been fun watching the players (and their characters) come to the realization that most of the Cobbins are content with their pathetic lot. Getting them to question their priors, let alone, take up arms against the Crookhorns, is going to take a lot of work on their part. Fortunately, they're very clever and have begun hatching a scheme they believe might get them some way toward this goal ...

A Commemoration of the House of Worms

My longstanding Empire of the Petal Throne campaign, House of Worms, ended in early October of this year, after ten and a half years of more or less weekly play. It is, to date, the longest sustained RPG campaign I've ever refereed or indeed been involved in. Its conclusion was therefore an event of real significance, one I felt deserved to be marked in some lasting way.

I chose to commemorate the campaign by commissioning a group portrait depicting all the player characters and major non-player characters who played an important role over its long history. For this, I turned once again to the artist Zhu Bajiee, who has produced so much excellent work for me over the years. The complete portrait is quite large, and I’ve decided to share it in full only with my patrons. That said, I also wanted to give other readers a sense of it, so I’m presenting selected portions of the image here.

More information about many of these characters, along with earlier depictions of them, can be found in this post from late last year. All of the illustrations here show the characters at the time of the conclusion of the campaign.

This is Huné hiNokór, a scholar priest of Hrü'ü, the Supreme Principle of Change within Tsolyánu's pantheon of gods. He is not a member of the House of Worms clan but joined them on their adventures after encountering them in the underworld beneath the city of Sa'á Alliqiyár. 

From left to right: Keléno hiNokór, Mírsha hiGirén, Jangáiva hiTlélsu, and Ssúri hiNokór. Keléno is a scholar priest of Sárku, the Tsolyáni god of death, while Mírsha, his third wife, is a lay priestess (sorceress) of Ksárul, god of secrets. Jangáiva is a temple guard, shown here with her demonic hammer, Ikh Tèn ("Little Sister"). Ssúri is a ritual priestess and dancer for Sárku's temple. 

Toneshkéthu Vokrón is a fourth stage student at the College at the End of Time, where Sinustragán Dzáshu is her master. She's also the youngest daughter of the Engsvanyáli priestking Girándu XV, who died more than 10,000 years prior to the start of the campaign. 

From left to right: Znayáshu hiNokór, Tu'ásha hiNarkóda, and Chiyé hiZhunrán. Znayáshu is a lay priest of Durritlámish, as well as an astrologer and a seller of protective charms and trinkets. Tu'ásha is his wife – as well as undead. She hides her hideous countenance behind a jade mask. Chiyé is a priest of Sárku who has a particular interest in the magic of the Ancients, like the "eye" that he holding.

From left to right: Nebússa hiTéshku, Srüna hiVázhu, Kirktá hiNokór, and Nye'étha hiSsáivra. Nebússa is a scion of the mighty Golden Bough clan and an agent of the Omnipotent Azure Legion. He is clan-cousin to Keléno's first wife, Hmásu. Srüna is Nebússa's wife, a member of the Iron Helm clan and a potent lay priestess of Ksárul. Kirktá is a scholar priest of Durritlámish, the protégé of Keléno, and a secret heir to the Petal Throne (his claim since renounced). His wife, Nye'étha, is a lay priestess of Ksárul, and another clan-cousin to Nebússa.

Left to right: Qurén hiQolyélmu, Grujúng hiZnáyu, and Aíthfo hiZnáyu. Qurén is a member of the Jade Diadem clan and a scholar of the Mihálli originally in the employ of Prince Rereshqála. Grujúng is a former legionnaire and the uncle of Aíthfo, who was once governor of the Tsolyáni colony of Linyaró.

Though I remain somewhat sad that House of Worms is now done, I am nevertheless glad that we brought it to a satisfying conclusion, something that, I am told, happens relatively rarely for RPG campaigns. That's why I'm especially pleased to have this portrait of the characters and NPCs who played important roles in it over the decade and a bit that we gathered each Thursday afternoon. Zhu Bajiee did a terrific job with all these depictions. They really capture the essence of the characters and serve as a tribute to them and the players who portrayed them.

Around the Campfire

On some nights, around the campfire, the village shaman – the Enginer – tells the following tale:

Long ago, the People dwelt in the First Garden. Shaped by the hands of the Builder, it was green beyond imagining, filled with waters that murmured like song and fruits that never failed. In those days, the Builder walked unseen among His children, guiding them through the soft meadows and gifting them with wonders that eased every burden. These Gifts – rare relics now – could mend wounds, command the elements, or summon angels of strange metal. The People lived without toil and they called themselves blessed.

Yet, as seasons passed uncounted, the People grew proud. They praised not the Builder but their own cleverness. They claimed the Gifts as their own works and whispered that the Garden’s perfection proved they needed no master. Their pride soured the soil and the Builder, though slow to anger, grew sorrowful.

He sent His fiercest angel, Bright-Ruin, whose secret name is Rad-Ashun, meaning "burning breath," to humble the People.

Bright-Ruin descended as a storm of unseen fire. Its passing cracked the earth, stilled the rivers, and dimmed the very light of the Garden. The wondrous Gifts turned wild or deadly. The First Garden fell in a single long night of flame and thunder.

But the Builder, though angered, did not cast the People into oblivion. Instead, He gathered the survivors and carried them to a new place – a hard place, a place of punishment and contrition where pride was impossible and ease a luxury.

He named this land Warden.

Warden, in the Old Tongue, means " a place of keeping," a realm of confinement where the People would dwell until they remembered the humility they had cast aside. Warden was not a prison of bars and walls, but of spiritual confinement, a vast wilderness meant to teach obedience, endurance, and wisdom.

Here, among the Barren Hills, the People were set to labor. Here, they would feel hunger, cold, and the bite of honest earth beneath their feet. Here they would live under the watchful eye of the Builder until the day they proved worthy of his love once more.

Our ancestors wandered long in this place of penance until they found the strong river we call the Ranger that wound like a silver chain through Warden’s harsh heart. Following its course, they reached the calm waters of Lake Refuge and made their first home: Habitat. There, they learned again the value of work, community, and gratitude for even the smallest blessing.

Fragments of the Builder’s Gifts lie scattered across Warden. They glimmer like temptations, powerful yet perilous. Those who forget the lesson of pride may draw Bright-Ruin’s gaze once more.

However, one day, when the People have endured enough seasons of hardship and have walked in humility for many generations, the Builder may lift the sentence placed upon them. Then He will break open the gates of Warden and lead His children to the New Garden, fairer still than the first.

Until that day, the People live under the watchful grace and stern discipline of the land that bears their fate in its very name.

The Die Is Cast

Last week, I mentioned that, with the Barrett's Raiders Twilight: 2000 campaign now ended, the group and I would need to make a decision about what to play next. I offered the players four (and a half) options: Gamma World/Metamorphosis Alpha, Secrets of sha-Arthan, Thousand Suns, and Urheim. As you can probably tell from the accompanying illustration, they chose Metamorphosis Alpha, which, I must admit, surprised me a little bit – not unhappily so, since I look forward to playing it, but I didn't think it would be as popular a choice as it turned out to be.

So, starting next week, we'll be playing one of the oldest RPGs and the first science fiction one ever published. It's also a game I've never refereed before, though I did play in a MA campaign some years ago, so this will be a learning experience for me too. That said, I've thought a lot about the game over the years and have a number of ideas to draw upon. Whether they'll survive contact with the players only time will tell, but I'm keen to see how this unfolds.

Like OD&D and Empire of the Petal Throne, Metamorphosis Alpha is mechanically somewhat sparse, with lots of lacunae and inconsistencies, as we discovered yesterday while trying to generate characters. That's fine. Part of my enjoyment of playing older games is figuring out how to make its unclear and often incomplete rules work in a way that make sense for our campaign. I rather expect that, after a few sessions, our version of MA will develop its own set of house rules and rules interpretations, as all good campaigns do. That's as it should be in my opinion.

Right now, my only worry, if that's the word, about this choice of game is whether Metamorphosis Alpha is capable of sustaining a long campaign. One of the players asked me how long I intended to run MA and I answered, "As long as I can – like all my campaigns." Barrett's Raiders lasted just shy of four years. The Riphaeus Sector Traveller campaign before it lasted slightly less long. And, of course, House of Worms lasted more than a decade. In each case, I didn't expect the campaign would last as long as it did, but I hoped they'd continue indefinitely. That's my preference when it comes to roleplaying, because I feel that, in general, these games are best enjoyed as long form entertainment. 

I mentioned this to my players yesterday and they were unconcerned. If Metamorphosis Alpha doesn't last more than a few months, that's OK. It'll be a nice palate cleanser after Barrett's Raiders and we can always take up a different game later. They have no expectations that we'll still be playing this a year from now, let alone five or ten years from now. They're just happy to be roleplaying with friends each week, which I think is a wise perspective. Still, after the phenomenal longevity of House of Worms, I must confess there's a part of me that wonders whether any campaign I do afterwards will ever measure up. That, as my players reminded me, isn't the way to view this, but I do nonetheless. 

In any case, I'm now about to embark on yet another new campaign and I can't help but wonder if it will take root and flourish or not. Regardless, I'll write about it periodically here, starting next week with a discussion of its first session. Until then!

And So It Begins

As I posted yesterday, my Barrett's Raiders Twilight: 2000 campaign, which started in December 2021, has ended. Though sad (and even a little disappointing), its conclusion opens up a slot in my weekly schedule for a new campaign and that's always exciting. Just what that new campaign will be is still very uncertain and depends, to a great extent, on the interests of the remaining players. We'll discuss the matter at some length at our next meeting, but, in order to get the ball rolling, I sent them a selection of four(ish) RPG I'd enjoy refereeing for them, which I thought I'd share with you as well.

Gamma World/Metamorphosis Alpha

I'm pretty sure I've mentioned, likely many times, that I've long been a huge fan of Gamma World. In my youth, it was one of my favorite games, just losing out of a spot in my Holy Trinity of RPGs to Call of Cthulhu. It's one of those games I find very easy to run, both from an ideas perspective and from a mechanical one. I have little trouble coming up with fun scenarios for Gamma World and its rules are straightforward and easy to use – two great boons when it comes to refereeing a roleplaying game. 

Notice that I've included Metamorphosis Alpha as a possibility too. That's because, while I have played MA, I have never actually run it myself and doing so has long been a dream of mine. In some ways, I actually prefer the campaign frame of Metamorphosis Alpha to that of Gamma World, perhaps because it appeals to my fascination with "secret sci-fi" settings. So, given my druthers, I would press for MA over Gamma World, but I'd be equally happy with either.

Secrets of sha-Arthan

This is a no-brainer. I've working sporadically on this project since June of 2021, during which time it's undergone a number of different changes and evolutions. Those of you who've subscribed to Grognardia Games Direct know about its current state, since that's where I post regularly about it. However, I've not yet had the chance to do anything more with it than run short scenarios. What it really needs is a proper campaign to take its development to the next level and this might be the perfect time to do that.

I considered starting a SosA campaign after the conclusion of House of Worms last month, but opted not to due to its very broad similarities to Tékumel. It's a baroque, exotic fantasy setting with a secret sci-fi substratum – I'm sensing a theme here – albeit one based on very different historical/cultural influences than those of Tékumel. However, my Monday night group includes a different set of players, so the comparisons to Tékumel wouldn't be a problem.

Thousand Suns

In a similar fashion, Thousand Suns is another good option. Like Secrets of sha-Arthan, I'm currently in the midst of revising and reorganizing it in preparation for the released of a second edition. Also like SosA, I'm chronicling my work on this project over at Grognardia Games Direct. This is a game that's very near and dear to my heart and one I haven't run for some years now, so it'd be great to have the opportunity to do so again.

Furthermore, one of the goals of the second edition is to make the rules of Thousand Suns clearer and easier to use. They're already pretty good in this regard, I think, but I hope to make them even better. I also want to do a better job of highlighting those aspects of the game that distinguish it from its competitors and inspirations. Refereeing a campaign would give me lots of opportunities to do just that.

Urheim

Urheim was my second attempt (after Dwimmermount) to produce a megadungeon suitable as the foundation for an entire old school D&D campaign. I got fairly far into constructing it before moving on to other projects, but it's still something I think about from time to time. 

Consequently, I thought now might be a good time to return to it as a replacement for Barrett's Raiders. A megadungeon campaign is very straightforward and easy to maintain. It's also got the potential to spin off in a variety of different fun directions, so it's a good fit for my personal refereeing style. If I did return to Urheim, I'd almost certainly use Old School Essentials, probably of the advanced variety, for the rules, though part of me wants to dive back into OD&D + Supplements.  

And that's where things stand at the moment. Which of these options will be chosen is (mostly) up to my players. I'm very curious as to what they'll chose.

Sir Yamashiro Li Halan

I often comically lament that I spent my personal character points on the wrong abilities and skills, choosing writing over much more sought after – and profitable – skills like mapmaking or art. Dyson Logos can do both of the latter, which is why I told him that, if he weren't my friend, I'd hate him. Yesterday, while playing in the fourth session of our new Fading Suns campaign, he drew his character, Sir Yamashiro Li Halan. It's a lovely piece of art and one that does a great job of visually bringing to life this drug-addicted rake of a nobleman. 

I suggested to Dyson he give the same treatment to the other characters in the campaign, but I was only half-serious, since I know it'd be a lot of work. Still, it's amazing how helpful it can be to have portraits of characters in a campaign. The make them real in a way that mere words frequently cannot. That's why I commissioned Zhu Bajiee to produce a commemorative portrait of all the important player and non-player characters of the recently completed House of Worms campaign. It'll not only be a great memento of the campaign itself – the longest I have ever refereed – but it will also help me to recall the characters, who are really what helped keep the game going for as long as it did. 

Campaign Updates: Fading Suns

It's been a while since I last wrote a post about the three campaigns I'm currently refereeing and, while I will in due course have more information about both Dolmenwood and Barrett's Raiders, I thought I'd first take some time to fill you in on my newest campaign – Fading Suns. 

The campaign, which doesn't yet have a distinct name, has taken the spot of the recently-concluded House of Worms Empire of the Petal Throne campaign in my weekly rotation of games. Currently, there are six players, five of whom played in House of Worms, while the sixth player is a new addition – an old friend of mine who's wanted to game with me for years and only now has a spot opened up to make this possible. We're only three sessions in, but already the campaign is starting to take root, in large part, I think, because of the strength of the characters.

• Sir Yamashiro Li Halan is the nominal leader of the group, thanks to his noble birth and social standing. A minor scion of House Li Halan, Yamashiro is regarded as something of a family disgrace. Where most of his kin are solemn and devout, he is a notorious hedonist and carefree rake, more interested in pleasure than piety. Exiled from his homeworld of Rampart under the guise of a “grand tour” of the Empire, Yamashiro’s journey is meant to teach him humility and discipline. He, however, views it as an invitation to indulge his appetites and discover what delights the wider Known Worlds have to offer.
• Accompanying him is Father Kosta, an Urth Orthodox priest appointed as Yamashiro’s confessor, though the young noble shows little inclination to unburden his soul before the Pancreator. Patient and compassionate, Father Kosta relies on the former quality most of all when tending to his wayward charge. Unlike many of his brethren, he favors a gentle hand in spiritual matters, convinced that quiet persistence will, in time, reach even the most stubborn heart. He often recounts tales of his own reckless youth, when his misdeeds nearly led to his death. Only through the mercy of the Pancreator did he survive to repent and now he sees it as his sacred duty to offer that same chance of redemption to others.
• Holai liTarken is an Umo’rin counselor, one of the alien Obun’s esteemed order of diplomats and empaths. Generations ago, his family fell into debt to House Li Halan and, in repayment, vowed that one of their line would forever serve the noble family. Holai now fulfills that ancient pledge as Yamashiro’s counselor and psychic advisor. Though he often finds humanity and its baffling blend of passion and prejudice difficult to comprehend, he approaches his duties with quiet dignity and sincere devotion, striving always to guide his charge with patience and wisdom.
• Iskander Ecevit is an Engineer, a member of the vast Merchant League, one of the three great pillars that uphold the Empire, alongside the noble houses and the Universal Church of the Celestial Sun. Once a soldier, Iskander’s life was forever changed by a near-fatal injury that left him broken and dying. The Engineers saved him with their arcane technologies, rebuilding him until he became something more machine than man. Fascinated by the relics of the Second Republic and the enigmatic works of the ancient Annunaki, Iskander devotes himself to uncovering their secrets. His hard-won knowledge and mechanical prowess now serve Yamashiro well as they journey together across the Known Worlds.
• Orphos is perhaps the most enigmatic member of Yamashiro’s entourage. A blunt, sharp-tongued cynic with little respect for the nobility – and even less for the Church – he belongs to the Scravers, a guild notorious for its scavengers, smugglers, and criminals. Despite his rough edges, Orphos proves invaluable thanks to his extensive underworld connections, which open doors closed to more polite travelers. His brash manner and disregard for decorum often attract unwanted attention, but his resourcefulness and streetwise instincts more than earn his place among Yamashiro’s companions.

You'll no doubt have noticed that I've only described five characters above, despite there being six players in the campaign. That's because, owing to real life scheduling conflicts, one of the players hasn't yet been able to attend our sessions. With luck, that will change soon and the coterie of player characters will at last be complete.

The campaign opens on the world of Pandemonium. Once called Grange, it was an idyllic agricultural planet, its fertile plains and temperate skies maintained by Second Republic terraforming engines that continued to hum along for centuries after the Fall. Now, those ancient machines are faltering. The vast farmlands beyond the capital city, The Hub, are drying up, the soil turning to dust as the world slowly dies. Life on Pandemonium has thus become harsh and uncertain. Yet House Decados still clings to it, not for its dwindling crops or crumbling cities, but for what lies within its system: a second jumpgate, long dormant and shrouded in mystery. To unlock its secrets would mean power beyond measure and every major faction knows it.

For now, Sir Yamashiro and his company move carefully through the tangled web of Pandemonium’s politics, learning who truly holds influence in The Hub and where their own ambitions might best take root.

The Dark Between the Stars

As I alluded to yesterday, this week marks the start of a new campaign for the (formerly) House of Worms group – today, in fact! After a decade and half a year of exploring Tékumel together, we're finally ready for something new and the game chosen by my players was Fading Suns, originally published by Holistic Design in 1996. That might seem like an odd choice, given my own inclinations, but it's not really. Indeed, I think it makes a great deal of sense, though it's probably worth delving into this a little bit.

Firstly, I should reiterate that Fading Suns was suggested by my players, not myself. I actually put forward Secrets of sha-Arthan, which I first started working on four years ago and whose recent development I've been chronicling each Friday at Grognardia Games Direct. I thought starting up a SosA campaign would be a great way to put its rules through their paces and expand on its evolving setting. However, several of the players rightly pointed out that Secrets of sha-Arthan is, by my own admission, a riff on many aspects of Tékumel. Since we'd already spent more than a decade in that kind of setting, there's a danger that we'd just be doing more of the same.

I couldn't disagree with that logic, which is why I also offered to run Dream-Quest, the Lovecraftian fantasy game I'm creating. Like Secrets of sha-Arthan, it really needs to be playtested and an ongoing campaign would be a great way to do that. This, too, was rejected on the grounds that my players didn't want to do another fantasy game, preferring instead something science fictional – or at least adjacent to that genre. You might wonder why we didn't opt for my own Thousand Suns, which I'd have gladly refereed, but the simple truth is that, by the time the conversation turned to SF, a couple of the players independently indicated that they'd always wanted to try Fading Suns, a suggestion that was soon embraced by everyone else (except one player, who decided to take the opportunity to bow out).

I had no problems with this. Fading Suns is a game for which I have a lot of affection. In the early 2000s, during the heaviest period of my freelance writing days, I contributed to three different supplements for the game, so I'm quite familiar with its setting. I also worked on the current edition of the game, writing the parts of the initial releases pertaining to the Universal Church of the Celestial Sun, along with the supplement devoted specifically to the Urth Orthodox sect. Since I haven't actually played the game since the late '90s/early 2000s, I had no problem returning to it for our new campaign. In fact, I was pleased the players were interested in it.

The campaign frame is that one of the characters is a young nobleman of House Li Halan who's something of an embarrassment to his family. Inexperienced and more than a little disrespectful of the traditions of his exalted lineage, he's been politely exiled under the guise of being sent on a Grand Tour of the Empire to "gain some seasoning" when, in reality, it's to ensure he's someone else's problem. Of course, even as troublesome as he is, the Li Halan don't want to see one of their own come to a bad end, which is why he's been sent out on his Grand Tour with a small entourage – the other player characters – including an Urth Orthodox priest-confessor who is genuinely concerned for the nobleman's soul.

Though there is a new edition of Fading Suns available, I'm honestly not all that keen on its rules. Consequently, we've opted to use the 1999 second edition of the game. It's not quite to my liking either, being an uncomfortable marriage between a White Wolf-style dice pool system and Pendragon's roll-under-but-still-roll-high mechanic. It's clunky and inelegant but still works after a fashion. Plus, I have an entire library of books written to support this edition, so it makes sense to use it. I'm sure that, in play, we'll eventually house rule anything that doesn't work to our satisfaction. That's the way every campaign I've ever played in works and I see no reason why this one should be any different.

Naturally, I have no idea where this campaign will go or indeed if it will go. It's been my experience that the early stages of any campaign are particularly fraught and it's quite easy for it to die before it has a chance to establish itself properly. While I don't think that will happen in this case, there is never any guarantees. It's quite possible I'll be writing again in a few months about yet another campaign that I'm starting, because Fading Suns didn't take root. For now, I have high hopes that my fears will be unfounded. I'll keep you posted as things unfold, giving you periodic updates on our progress, as I've done with my own current campaigns.

Campaign Updates: Penultimate (Part III)

Grujúng and Nebússa seized their chance. For a fleeting moment, Prince Dhich'uné stood unshielded, his body and mind briefly his own. Grujúng lunged first, his weapon smashing into the prince with a resounding blow that staggered him. Nebússa followed hard on his heels, striking true and drawing another cry of pain. 

Dhich'uné did not fall. Straightening with dreadful resolve, he rose taller than before, black-green sparks crawling across his flesh, racing to seal the wounds. Behind him, the spectral silhouette that shadowed his form blazed suddenly brighter, swelling until it loomed above him like a giant. With unnatural speed, Dhich'uné lashed out at Grujúng. The strike landed with such force that Grujúng was hurled nearly twenty feet, crashing to the floor in a heap.

From across the bridge, Srüna raised the splendid eye of Krá the Mighty. Its power leapt forth, seizing the prince in an invisible grip. His body convulsed, wracked with fresh agony, yet still he fought on. Gritting his teeth, Grujúng hauled himself upright and staggered back into the fray, standing shoulder to shoulder with Nebússa against their terrible foe.

The prince’s voice thundered across the chamber, low and irresistible: “Come no further! Kneel before Us!” The words reverberated through their bones, laced with a command that was almost impossible to deny. For a heartbeat, their wills buckled, but then, with supreme effort, they pushed back the compulsion. Still, the strain was evident. How much longer could they resist the weight of his power?

As the battle continued across the platform, Kirktá and Keléno stood with their wives, paralyzed by uncertainty. From behind the mask Míru had given him, Kirktá caught sight of something strange. Along the platform’s edges, as though rising from the fathomless chasm below, threads of light began to form like a vast, spiderweb lattice, spreading with unnerving speed. The strands glowed a sickly brown-yellow, racing outward, converging toward Dhich'uné. Were they hunting him of their own accord or answering his silent command? Kirktá could not say and the doubt gnawed at him.

Behind the prince, the towering silhouette still loomed, larger than ever, but Kirktá noticed widening gaps tearing through its form. It strained, like something barely able to hold its grip upon Dhich'uné’s body. The sight brought his thoughts to the talismans Míru had given him. Perhaps the uncut black gem, which he had not thus far used, might prove important somehow.

Keléno, meanwhile, remained steadfast at his side. Shield of defense raised, he sheltered his companions against any unexpected danger. Beyond that, he had no stratagem left to offer, no secret weapon hidden away. All he could do was stand guard and whisper fervent prayers to Lord Sárku, the Five-Headed Lord of Worms, his dread patron and master of the undead. 

A stench of rot soon thickened the chamber air. From the platform’s edges, grave worms heaved themselves into view, writhing and crawling toward the fray. Then a voice arose – sepulchral, deep, and resonant enough to shake the stones of the place.

"Apostate! You were mine. Now, you are nothing. Change is the law and you would break it with your false eternity. For this, I cast you out."

Through the mask, Kirktá saw a vortex yawning open above Dhich'uné, its pull seizing the shadowy silhouette and dragging it upward, away from his body. The prince shrieked in agony, even as Grujúng and Nebússa pressed their assault, striking at him while the thing within him was torn free.

The worms quickened, swarming closer. At their advance, Dhich'uné recoiled, fear flickering across his face for the first time. While Keléno prayed fervently to Sárku, Kirktá sprinted to the platform’s center. The spectral threads binding the silhouette to the prince had stretched thin, taut and on the edge of breaking. Trusting his intuition, Kirktá drew the uncut black gem. With a swift motion, he slashed through the strands, severing them one by one.

The vortex roared, ripping the last of the shadow from Dhich'uné and devouring it. The prince collapsed, broken and gasping, left to writhe on the platform.

For a moment, silence reigned. Then the voice returned, vast and terrible.

"Do not mistake my hand for friendship. You are tools, no more. The cycle of Change endures. Pray you never draw my gaze again."

With those words, Dhich'uné’s still-twitching body convulsed. An unseen force seized him, folding him inward toward a single invisible point. His scream echoed through the chamber and then cut off abruptly as he vanished.

Campaign Updates: Penultimate (Part II)

Neither Grujúng nor Nebússa was keen to allow Dhich'uné the opportunity to act any further. They quickly began descending the stairs of the chamber, followed by Srüna. They had no clear plan how to proceed, only that, if allowed too much time to prepare, the Worm Prince would be an even greater threat than he already was. Meanwhile, Keléno made use of a scroll of shield of defense to protect himself, Kirktá, and their wives, Mírsha and Nye'étha, from any ranged attacks that might come from below. Then, they too moved downward toward the center of the chamber, albeit more cautiously than the others.

Dhich'uné took note of the rapid descent of Grujúng, Nebússa, and Srüna, shouting to Kirktá, "Call off your attack animals or I shall be forced to do so myself – and I will not be as gentle as you would be, brother." Upon hearing that, the trio slowed their movement but did not stop completely. Seemingly satisfied, Dhich'uné explained, "Once, I believed I must sit upon the Petal Throne only to die, my blood poured out under a knife wielded by you, in order to seal a new pact with the One Other. I now know that was folly. So crude a sacrifice was never required. Not blood, nor flesh – only preparation.”

At this, Kirktá and then the others noticed that Dhich'uné's body was surrounded by a black-green silhouette, like another version of himself, only larger and that seemed to fade in and out of sight. Kirktá, still under the effects of the seeing other planes spell he'd cast in the previous room, also saw something else. This silhouette was wrapped around Dhich'uné's limbs and head, pulling at them and perhaps even controlling him. It was as if there were a hidden puppeteer at work. The silhouette possessed moments of iridescence, along with gaps in its strange substance. The gaps looked like holes in worn cloth, with only "strands" connecting it to Dhich'uné in places.

Dhich'uné continued, 

“Years I gave to Sárku, years hollowing myself of every weakness, every desire, even of life itself. I thought I was to become his vessel, his undying emperor. But no: all that time, I was shaping myself for another, greater patron. The One Other has chosen me not as sacrifice but as a partner. Together, we shall reign without end. The empire eternal. The dream perfected. Tsolyánu unchanging.”

Needless to say, this admission terrified the characters. They suspected that Dhich'uné had altered his original plans and now had some new scheme in mind. Yet they never once suspected that he might abandon Lord Sárku, the god to whom he had dedicated his life up to this point, and seek to join rather than control the One Other, with the pariah god as his eternal co-ruler over Tsolyánu. More than ever, they knew he had to be defeated.

Grujúng and Nebússa crossed one of the bridges leading to the central platform where Dhich'uné stood. They were still about 50' from him, just about within sprinting range. Srüna stayed on the other side of the bridge, her splendid eye of Krá the Mighty at the ready. Kirktá and the others similarly stayed on the far side of the chasm separating the platform from the ground floor of the chamber. From there, it was obvious that the large circular object near Dhich'uné was likely the prison of the One Other, now open. The characters had seen it in one of the "windows" they encountered earlier in Avanthár, windows that looked to reveal the future or perhaps possible futures. 

Kirktá then put on the mask he had been given by Míru, the mysterious priest of the One Other who had inexplicably aided him in recent weeks. The mask revealed yet more about the strange silhouette that surrounded Dhich'uné, in particular that it was simultaneously growing in strength and intensity but also straining against its connection to the Worm Prince's mortal form. The holes seen earlier were larger now, even as the silhouette looked more potent than ever.

Dhich'uné yelled out, “I — We — have surpassed all need for the old ways. This new pact is stronger, perfected. They bound Us, long ago, in chains of memory. But all chains rust, all chains break.” Every time Dhich'uné spoke, another voice reverberated under his own, becoming stronger and louder. Whenever he attempted to say "I" or "me," another voice drowned him out, saying "we" or "us" in a voice filled with fury and hatred. “They shall pay. They shall all pay. The First Tlakotáni stole Our freedom and now thinks We will be satisfied with its mere restoration. No, his descendants have fattened on Our silence. Now We break that silence. Now We will break all!”

Yet, something of Dhich'uné's own ego and arrogance remained. Doubled over in pain, grabbing his head, he wrestled with the One Other's increasing control, “No! Not destroy. Preserve! Rule forever! Eternal Tsolyánu. Eternal throne. I — We — I —” Dhich'uné's body was now wracked with pain and contorted in unnatural ways. Black-green sparks of otherplanar energy snaked across him. “Enough! We are no emperor’s slave. We are no ornament for the Petal Throne. We are vengeance unquenched! Rivers will boil, temples will sink, streets will drown in silence. We will unmake this empire of thieves. We will bind this land as it once bound Us!”

Now on his knees, Dhich'uné extended his hand in the direction of Kirktá, his face and his voice, for a brief moment, solely his own, "Brother, end it ..."

Campaign Updates: Penultimate (Part I)

As I briefly stated yesterday, my House of Worms Empire of the Petal Throne campaign had its penultimate session yesterday – penultimate, not ultimate. The final session will, in fact, be next week, as we try to wrap up (to the extent that it's possible after more than ten and a half years of regular play) the remaining threads of the Tsolyáni succession crisis and incipient civil war. That's probably as good a point as any to end the campaign. After the heights of imperial power politics and the cosmic threat of a pariah god, I'm not certain there's anywhere for House of Worms to go but down. Better to end on a high note. Plus, the truth is, after more than a decade, we're all a little tired and could probably use a change of scenery, so to speak, even if I'm still unsure that the campaign begun in its wake could ever live up to this one.

The characters had, for several sessions, been working their way through the bowels of Avanthár, the seat of Tsolyáni power north of the capital city of Béy Sü. Avanthár is often called a "citadel" and it is, but it's also a very ancient military installation dating back to before the Time of Darkness. It's filled with millennia's worth of technological and magical defenses intended to impede anyone's attempts to infiltrate it. Consequently, the characters had their work cut out for them, as they contended with all manner of unexpected and deadly wards, traps, and obstacles. Fortunately, they'd been aided by Prince Táksuru, one of the contenders for the Petal Throne, who provided them with certain aids in their quest. Likewise, Kirktá had been gifted with several artifacts by Míru, a servant of the One Other posing as a priest of Belkhánu. Like the First Tlakotáni, he wanted to see the pariah god freed from captivity beneath Avanthár.

The characters knew that Prince Dhich'uné was already ahead of them, making his way to the prison of the One Other, in hopes of establishing a new pact with the god. How he intended to do this was uncertain, since, so far as they understood things, Dhich'uné needed to be emperor before he could offer his spirit-soul to the One Other in exchange for eternal rule over Tsolyánu. Clearly, he had some kind of back-up plan or alternative scheme, one that didn't require either his victory in the Kólumejàlim or the involvement of Kirktá, who had been trained in his youth for the purpose of aiding Dhich'uné in his goals – or so he said at any rate.

Moving expeditiously from the last room they had explored, they came across a set of sliding doors that looked as if they had been partially forced open. Strange black-green fungus covered part of the door and had begun to slowly spread into the one where the characters now were. Peering into the next room, Nebússa and Kirktá could see that it was a large, circular chamber. The fungus was everywhere within. Along the curve of one wall, there was an opening, like a door. A large "plug" made of the strange ceramic/metal material of the Ancients lay shattered on the ground. The plug was covered in strange symbols and was slowly breaking down. Under the effects of the seeing other planes spell, Kirktá saw a strange creature whose shape constantly shifted forms – one minute an insect, another a reptile, another a cephalopod, and so on – smashing up the bits of the plug.

Grujúng felt the time to act was now. He leapt into the room, weapon drawn. His appearance drew the attention of the creature, which flew/crawled/ran toward him, shifting between its various forms. He could not see it, however; its otherplanar nature made it largely invisible to normal sight. Nevertheless, as he felt its presence, he swung at it with his enchanted blade, striking it. For a moment, it phased into existence before disappearing again. Nebússa joined him, followed by his wife, Srüna. Soon, the other characters joined them. Nebússa, using the sword of the Ancients he acquired some time ago, likewise struck at the beast. Srüna, however, cast a spell of paralysis, which – surprisingly – worked, freezing the creature in place. The others then made short work of it. Upon its destruction, it faded away, as if it had never existed.

From the open portal once blocked by the plug, the characters could see more black-green fungus and flashes of similarly colored light. They made their way toward the opening and looked inside. There they saw another immense room, arranged like an amphitheater made of the same ceramic/metal material as the plug. Arrayed around the topmost level of the amphitheater were large statues depicting human figures in metal armor of a sort that reminded the characters of the Ru'ún, the artificial servants of the Ancients. At the bottom of the amphitheater was a circular platform, perhaps 100' across, separated from the floor by a 20'-wide chasm. Four bridges enabled passage from the floor to the platform, upon which rested a large circular object with a door on its side. The door was wide open and a robed figured stood beside it.

Upon seeing the characters, the figure called out in a loud voice, "You have come too late, brother. I have seen the truth."

The Dreamlands Campaign

Here's another public post from my Patreon about the development of Dream-Quest. Because it's potentially a big change in my approach to the game, I thought it'd be worthwhile to share it more widely. I'm actively soliciting comments on what I've written here and whether or not it's a fruitful way forward. Whether you leave your comments over at Patreon or below, they will be much appreciated.

Short-Term

As you know, I'm currently refereeing three different roleplaying game campaigns: House of Worms (Empire of the Petal Throne), Barrett's Raiders (Twilight: 2000), and Dolmenwood (which doesn't have a separate name, despite my long-held practice of bestowing them). Dolmenwood is the newest of the three, having been started a little less than a year ago (November 2024), while the other two of much older vintage – House of Worms has been going for over a decade of continuous play, while Barrett's Raiders will celebrate its fourth anniversary this December. 

Though I never specifically set out to run a multi-year campaign when I began any of these, I nevertheless hoped that they would last for several years. Indeed, it remains my firm belief that roleplaying games are best enjoyed not as some casual entertainment but as something demanding more sustained commitment from both players and the referee. This is, in my opinion, the ideal form of roleplaying, for reasons I've elucidated elsewhere. Consequently, I always feel a little bit defeated when a new campaign doesn't quite take and sputters out after only a few weeks or months.

Of course, if I look back at the more than four decades I've been involved in this hobby, I can see far more "failed" campaigns, which is to say, campaigns lasting a year or less, than those lasting two or more years, never mind a decade. House of Worms is truly unique. Were I to live to be one hundred, I doubt I will ever strike gold the way I have with House of Worms. Even after all this time, its longevity is inexplicable to me – a one-of-a-kind coincidence of elements that I couldn't have planned no matter how hard I tried (and I didn't). As that campaign prepares for its conclusion, I cannot help but be profoundly grateful for the experience of such a long and enjoyable campaign.

I bring all this up as something of a prolog to a conversation I recently had with my adult daughter, who's a bit more plugged into the contemporary RPG scene than I am. We were out somewhere and I saw a new roleplaying game with which I wasn't familiar. I thought the idea behind it was interesting but very focused. I told her that I couldn't imagine anyone being able to play this game for very long, to which she replied, "Not everyone wants to play the same game continuously for years." 

Now, obviously, I knew this to be true. Even so, hearing her say that made me ponder the question a bit more. How many of the games I own are broad enough in concept that I can imagine playing them for years? The truth is fewer than I would have thought. Certainly, Dungeons & Dragons and its various descendants have proved that they can support long-term play. I don't hesitate in saying that about Traveller as well, but what about, say, Call of Cthulhu? Is it possible to play a continuous CoC campaign for years with the same group of characters (more or less)? I know of long-running Call of Cthulhu campaigns but how common are they and are the odds stacked against them, given the frame of the game? 

Mind you, I'd argue that the odds are stacked against most RPGs, not necessarily because of their rules or even their focus but because most players and referees grow bored of them after a while. Gamer ADD is a real thing and always has been, though I think it's gotten worse in the last couple of decades. If I had to venture a guess as to why, I think its roots are twofold. First, I think most people nowadays are much more easily distracted. There are so many shiny things competing for their attention that it's harder and harder to keep them on task. Second, there are so many more RPGs to choose from. Gamers have always been prone to neophilia in my experience, so when there are literally dozens of new games released every year, it's little wonder that they find it difficult to commit to any one of them for more than a few weeks or months. They wouldn't want to "miss out," would they?

My daughter is more charitable than I. She compares many gamers' approaches to a charcuterie board. They want a little of this and a little of that but aren't willing to make an entire meal out of salami. Instead, they want to sample everything. That's fair, I suppose, and I can't really be too critical of this perspective, because, at various times, I've adopted something close to it myself. Still, it's another reminder that my tastes and preferences are increasingly out of touch with what the hobby seems to be about. I guess that's just the nature of getting old.

Campaign Updates: Catching Up

Lest anyone be concerned: all three of the ongoing campaigns I'm currently refereeing continue, but I simply haven't had the time to write any posts providing updates of what's happening in each of them until now. In fact, so many sessions have occurred since my last update that this post is going to gloss over some of the finer details in the interests of brevity. I suspect few readers will mind. However, if there's something that's unclear or about which you wish to know more, leave a comment and I'll do my best to answer your query. 

Barrett's Raiders

Despite Michael's admonitions, Vadim revealed to Lt. Col. Orlowski the truth about his background and his connection to Michael. Strictly, he was not a prisoner of war but a military defector. A doctor by training, Vadim had been drafted to serve in a unit of the Red Army's chemical troops. While there, he learned of a project to unleash a cereal crop pathogen on the United States with the intention of fostering famine and civil unrest. As a doctor and man of conscience, Vadim saw this as a war crime in the making. He used his rank and position to obtain copies of certain documents pertaining to this project and fled his unit, hoping to make contact with someone in the West to whom he might give this information.

That contact turned out to be Michael, a deep cover CIA agent in Eastern Poland, who immediately recognized the value of the documents Vadim possessed. He promised to get Vadim first to safety, the GRU hot on his heels, and then to American lines, so that his information might be put to good use. Now that they were both on the other side of the Atlantic, Vadim felt it was the time to reveal what he knew and make every effort to aid American officials – military or civilian – who could make good use of it. 

This conviction is at the root of a conflict within the characters' unit. As a CIA agent, Michael is pledged to support President Broward and his government in Omaha. Though traveling with soldiers loyal to USMEA, his ultimate loyalty lies with the reconstituted civilian authority of the USA. Orlowski has tolerated Michael's position, because of how steadfastly he had aided his men in Poland and, truth be told, harbors some qualms about USMEA himself. At the same time, he is not interested in going out of his way to cross his superior officers or otherwise do anything to undermine them. 

Vadim is likewise grateful to Michael for his aid in getting him to America. Though now an American citizen under the provisions of AR 000-00 as adjudicated by V Corps HQ, he cared little for the politics of the post-war USA. From his perspective, all he wished to do was share his documents widely with as many people as possible, in the hope that they could counter the pathogen and spare America from famine at this critical moment. On this point, he was adamant.

Col. Franks, CO of Fort Pickett, recommended that Orlowski and his unit seek out Oak Ridge National Laboratory in Tennessee. That's where many of the scientists and doctors from Fort Detrick were transferred after the nuclear attack on DC and Maryland in 1997. If anyone could make good use of Vadim's information, it was them. To calm Michael, Orlowski authorized the creation of a copy of Vadim's notes, so that they could be shared with whomever he wishes. At that, the unit then set off west toward Oak Ridge.

Dolmenwood

The characters set off into the region of the swamp known as the Flotsam Pools, after all the small pools of strange debris that had arisen along the banks of the nearby river. Led by Waldra, they made good progress through this unpleasant terrain before a group of bog corpses appeared. Lumbering through the muck, they attacked the group. Sir Clement leapt into action and handled the bulk of these foul undead, while his companions kept at a distance and attacked with missiles. The menace defeated, Waldra and her blood hound (Joremey) picked up the sent of Emelda, which led them to a strange hut by the river.

Exploring the hut, which sat on stilts, neither Alvie nor Marid found any evidence of Emelda. In fact, they found very little evidence of anything other than the possessions of an aristocrat down on his luck. Not long thereafter, an elderly longhorn Breggle appeared, advancing through the river's water. Identifying himself as Sir Tekwell Onehorn (on account of his single horn), he claimed to be living in seclusion, lest his "many admirers" continue to harry him. When asked about Emelda or the Hag, he was evasive, leading Sir Clement to be suspicious of him.

Eventually, Tekwell offered to lead the characters to the borders of the Hag's domain, the location of which he admitted under some duress. Approaching that locale, with its green mist and strange sounds, the characters were beset by black tentacles that seemingly grew from the ground, trying to snatch them. Tekwell was an early victim of the tentacles but, fortunately for him, Sir Clement bore no grudge against him. With the help of his companions, the tentacles were defeated and Tekwell saved. The grateful Breggle then admitted that he had not come to the swamp to avoid his celebrity but because he'd fallen from grace in service to a high Breggle lord. Inspired by Clement's bravery, he vowed to lead them directly to the Hag, which he did.

The Hag's dwelling was a floating hut, guarded by two ogres. Sir Clement challenged them to a fight, which they accepted. Initially, the fight went badly for Clement, despite the assistance of his comrades. However, Tekwell proved surprisingly effective and played a major role in slaying both the ogres. Next, the characters decided they needed to find a way into the hut, since it was some 10 feet above them. Clement placed Alvie on his shoulders, who attempted to reach and open the door through the use of a rope.

Just as he did so, the Hag opened the door, her eyes goggling. She looked down at Alvie and smiled, "Thief-son, you may come in. The rest of you, begone!" Reluctantly, Alvie agreed to enter, surreptitiously tying his rope to the handle of the hut's door. Just as he entered, Sir Clement grabbed Marid and threw the grimalkin enchanter headlong into the Hag's home, just as its door slammed shut.

House of Worms

Táksuru had not only sent the characters on their way to Avanthár but also provided them with an ancient device that would temporarily deactivate some of its external defenses, allowing them to make use of an auxiliary entrance. Once inside, however, the defenses would soon reactivate and they would not be able to leave by the same means. This was a one-way trip into one of the most well protected and secret locales in all of Tsolyánu, perhaps all of Tékumel. The only way out was through. One way or another, the members of the House of Worms clan would soon end their adventures.

The auxiliary entrance was located inside a rise near the Mssúma River, well hidden except to those, like the characters, who knew of its presence. Kirktá made use of the device Táksuru had given them, which opened a door disguised as a rockface. Beyond was a huge, vaulted chamber overgrown with weird vegetation. Everywhere were small pillars made of a strange crystalline material. Above, portions of the ceiling flickered with peculiar lighting – a reminder that Avanthár had once been some kind of fortress from the Ancients and would undoubtedly contain many examples of technology from before the Time of Darkness.

Thus began an extensive exploration of these forgotten, subterranean levels of Avanthár, in the hopes of locating the prison of the One Other, assuming it even existed. The characters then proceeded to move carefully from one chamber to another, ever mindful of the dangers they might encounter. One room contained a series of "windows" that seem to depict possible/alternate futures, not all of them pleasant. Another housed shadowy reflections of the characters lying in ambush. And another still seemed to be an armory or repository of some kind. For the most part, the characters avoided doing anything too bold in these chambers, lest they activate a trap or defense mechanism of some kind.

Eventually, though, their luck ran out and they came to a hallway with an energy barrier that allowed on Kirktá to pass through it. A voice in an ancient tongue – translated by an eye of incomparable understanding – stated the following if anyone else attempted this, "Incompatible genetic signature. Further access denied." Clearly, at least some of Avanthár was keyed to Tlakotáni DNA, meaning only Kirktá could proceed. This was not really an option, so much time was spent trying to determine a way to circumvent the system. They eventually succeeded in this and continued to advance.

One of the more worrisome aspects of their advance was the discovery, in multiple places, that Prince Dhich'uné was already in Avanthár himself, possibly racing toward the same destination ahead of them. Dead Sárku troops attested to this, as did the charred body of Jayárgo, Dhich'uné's top lieutenant. As the characters pondered this, they realized that it made sense Dhich'úne was already here, as he had been conspicuously absent in Béy Sü during the build-up of Eselné's troops. Clearly, Dhich'uné felt that the real battle was here, beneath the emperor's palace and that nothing less than reaching the prison of the One Other would secure the Petal Throne. Needless to say, the characters soon hastened their steps.