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TURN BACK THE CLOCK

Turn Back the Clock by Kyle Tam is a thinly disguised roman a clef of Arthur C. Clarke’s and Stanley Kubrick’s 2001. The PCs receive a distress call sent from a ship thought lost for centuries: Mankind’s first expedition to Jupiter. It’s been knocked loose in time by the presence of the Star Child Flux Child. The original crew is experiencing Annihilation-like transformations, and if the PCs aren’t careful, they’ll similarly become lost in space and time.

Conceptually this seems really interesting. Unfortunately, it’s the execution that kills this one.

First, imagine adapting 2001: A Space Odyssey, but you aren’t really sure how to do that, so the structure of your adventure is just punching the Flux Child in the head until it’s “felled,” freeing you from the ship. But, also, that’s basically impossible because the Flux Child does 5d100 damage, 20 maximum Wounds, and you forgot to include a Health score.

Second, I frequently found the text confusing. For example, “the crew is not technically in danger,” but they were currently fusing with the furniture and/or have pieces of their bodies falling off, plus they will shortly cease to be sentient. Hmm. I feel like I have a radically definition of “danger” than the author here.

Finally, there are more fundamental design problems here. For example, a core structure of the adventure is, “The longer you spend onboard the Charon, the more of yourself you lose. Each day, make a Sanity save or else roll on the [Distortion Table].” But the adventure is keyed as a pointcrawl with three briefly described areas.

This is a problem I frequently see in published adventures. I’ve discuss a similar problem in Running Background Adventures. There’s simply not enough narrative material to fill the time necessary to trigger this structure.

“Clarke’s Star Child does body horror” is a cool concept. But, sadly, there’s nothing on the page in Turn Back the Clock that I would actually use in bringing that concept to the table. This is a disappointing miss for me.

GRADE: F

The PCs are hired to pick up a secretive shipment from an automated shuttle. The only problem? An experimental combat drone – the Synthetic Predator 1^st Design, 3^rd Revision (or SP-1D3R) – has stowed away on the shuttle to escape the facility where it was being tested. Desperate for energy, it begins draining the power systems on the PCs’ ship.

This is another good concept with shaky execution.

Designer Nikolaj Gedionsen describes the adventure as “a claustrophobic game of cat-and-mouse aboard a failing ship where an intelligent machine predator turns the crew’s familiar home against them.” Which sounds great, but immediately runs face-first into a ship map that’s entirely linear. It’s hard to play cat-and-mouse on a balance beam.

The Plea also frequently relies on overriding or ignoring the core rules of Mothership. In my experience, this sort of thing doesn’t work because the players get frustrated at the bullshit “threat” that’s arbitrarily being thrust upon them.

The adventure includes its own mechanical superstructure in the form of a Power Drain system (modeling and tracking the SP-1D3R taking over and depleting the ship’s systems), but I have a difficult time believing it was ever playtested. The core of the system boils down to:

1. Start with 12 Power.
2. -1 Power when the drone connects to a system.
3. If the PCs power down a section, it can’t be Power Drained and also save 1 Power per turn.

The math just fundamentally doesn’t math here. Nonetheless, I’ve done several dry runs of the system using various interpretations of what it might have meant (did you mean -1 Power per turn? can the drone be attached to multiple systems simultaneously?) and it just doesn’t work.

All of these issues, I think, explains why a significant chunk of this adventure is a section called “The Vibe.” Ultimately, that’s a pretty good summary of The Plea: It’s a concept running almost entirely on vibes.

GRADE: D

TESSERACT

Pyry Qvick’s Tesseract initially threw me for a loop because (a) it’s called Tesseract (a cube extended into fourth-dimensional space in the same that a square is extended to become a cube in three-dimensional space) and (b) it features a bunch of non-Euclidean cube-shaped rooms. So my brain kept trying to make the adventure work as an actual tesseract… but it isn’t.

Which is OK. I mention this only in the hope it might help you avoid the same pitfall and get straight to appreciating just how cool this adventure is.

Things kick off in Tesseract like this:

Your ship passes a massive metallic cube. After a moment, your ship passes by a massive metallic cube. Again and again. Your navigation shows no progress made.

On the cube’s surface, a hatch opens.

Crawling inside the cube, you discover a dozen of the aforementioned cube-shaped rooms, all arranged on a map that makes it easy for you to run as the GM, but devilishly complex for the players to unravel. (If they ever do.)

The rooms themselves are consistently themed, but each one is varied and intriguing. In addition to the navigational puzzle of the non-Euclidean map, exploring the cube is also deeply satisfying because the rooms present an interconnected mystery that allows the players to slowly piece together what’s happening here (and, hopefully, undo it). This is very much the adventure that Turn Black the Clock wanted to be, but dropped the ball on.

Season to taste with the creepy cube-droids which infest the place.

The net result is a creepy, well-designed adventure I am sure will leave your players disoriented, paranoid, and thrilled.

GRADE: B-

Rather than the trifold modules we’ve been reviewing, Dead Weight by Norgad is a twelve-page micro-adventure.

The PCs are crewing a cargo ship when an alien artifact in one of the ship’s holds activates, causing all dead bodies in the area to rapidly accelerate towards. It starts with all the meat in the ship’s galley, which rips through the crew currently eating dinner. The dead bodies of the crew, of course, are added to the mass of meat and bone, which rip through the hull of the ship, causing lockdown and atmospheric pressure doors to trigger throughout the ship.

As the investigation and emergency repairs begin, a crew member mortally injured in the initial incident dies, inflicting more damage… and that’s when corpses start arriving from outside the ship. Can the PCs figure out what’s going on and jettison the artifact before the asteroid the artifact was taken from arrives and annihilates the ship?

The concept of Dead Weight is elegant in its horrific simplicity. The execution is simply beautiful.

Just look at this map:

(click for larger image)

Each of the vectors here show the trajectory of damage from the scripted meat projectiles, and you can see how simple it would be to draw your own vectors and immediately understand the resulting damage as events play out at the table. This map is simply fantastic as both a reference and a structure of play, and Norgad has also included player handouts (without the GM-only info) that you can print out for the players.

The ship key itself is equally polished: Nested descriptions make it easy to master the adventure, while creating satisfying layers of investigation for the PCs. Clearly delineated post-incident shifts in the room descriptions make it a breeze to keep the potentially complicated continuity and dynamic environments of the adventure crystal clear in play.

I have only one quibble with the whole package: It’s not immediately apparent why the adventure track ends with the asteroid 98-Gobstopper crashing into the ships. Careful reading suggests that the asteroid – composed of “banded layers of oxygen, hydrogen, nitrogen, carbon, calcium, and phosphorus, with some other trace elements” – is actually the compacted remains of the countless dead attracted by the artifact at the asteroid’s core. But it would have been friendlier to the GM to just spell that out.

This quibble, of course, scarcely detracts from the whole package. Dead Weight went straight into my open table rotation. I adore it.

Note: When you run your own session of Dead Weight, I recommend taking the time to frame up and play through more of the back story that sets up the First Projectile incident. These events are well detailed in the text of the module, but I think it will work better if the players actually experience those events for themselves and then see the payoff.

GRADE: B+

Go to Part 5: Airlock Series

An excellent overland adventure, organized to make the GM’s task simple and the player’s experience memorable.

Original Review Posted May 21st, 2001

Before WotC’s OGL and D20 trademark license came along and allowed them to release products like A Lion in the Ropes and The Malady of Kings, Troll Lord Games was producing generic fantasy adventures. As with many products of their kind, the production values on these generic modules were weak. But in the case of Troll Lord, the modules were cheap enough to match those production values ($5), and the content itself was highly memorable (if sometimes in need of some fix-up work). These modules are now being updated to D20 (check out their website), and are – I think – worthy of your attention.

PLOT

Warning: This review will contain spoilers for The Mortality of Green. Players who may find themselves playing in this adventure should not read beyond this point.

One of these modules was (and is) The Mortality of Green by Stephen Chenault. Set within the Darkenfold Forest, The Mortality of Green focuses upon the Druidic Council’s efforts to recover the forest from the evil which has long possessed it. Although the task will be long and arduous, the Council is attempting to offer the denizens of Darkenfold hope by having Cornelius the White carry a sapling of the Great Tree to the woodsmen of Rangers Knot, who will plant it in a secret grove whose ground shall be sanctified. In turn, the grove (and sapling) will begin to heal the Darkenfold.

Unfortunately, deep within the forest lives a sentient tree named Gristlebones. Gristlebones is twisted, old, and corrupt. He sends one of his allies – Quagmire the Troll – to intercept Cornelius and steal the sapling. Which Quagmire does.

Enter the PCs, who stumble across the dying Cornelius – who attempts to extract an oath to recover the sapling and fulfill his failed mission. The PCs’ attempt to fulfill this oath will lead them throughout the Darkenfold as they seek to catch Quagmire before he can deliver the sapling to Gristlebones, who will corrupt its powerful magic for his own purposes.

STRENGTHS

When I was first being exposed to the adventures being produced by Troll Lord Games, I was immediately struck by the extremely memorable environments in which they were being set. All of them take place within the After Winter Dark campaign setting (which I have reviewed elsewhere on RPGNet). Despite this, however, their unique – and compelling – elements are still presented in a fashion which allows them to be inserted seamlessly into any sufficiently generic campaign world.

The Mortality of the Green, of course, is no exception to this. Stephen Chenault is very careful to present the Darkenfold in such a way that it is not simply rendered into the meaningless background noise of the stereotypical “evil forest”. The Darkenfold is given a specific character, history, and geography – playing upon familiar fantasy themes, but establishing itself as something memorable unto itself.

With his setting established, Chenault then proceeds to develop upon it an excellent overland adventure. As a general rule, I find that overland adventures generally have problems. Unlike a standard dungeon, the players are not tightly confined to a set of stone rooms – and, as a result, it’s all too easy for the PCs to simply start missing things. On the other hand, unlike scene-act structure, the overland adventure has a certain assumption of self-direction. The Mortality of the Green is also a chase adventure – in which the PCs are expected to track someone down. This provided yet another opportunity for the adventure to fall flat, because its all too easy to fall into the trap of designing such an adventure so that the entire thing will derail in the DM’s hands if a single tracking die roll (for example) is missed.

Fortunately, Chenault avoids the pitfalls – and the result renders the DM’s task simple, and the player’s experience memorable: The necessary possibilities are covered, the adventure responds with changing dynamics to the actions of the PCs, and the entirety is kept simple enough to be easily played.

Style: 3
Substance: 4

Author: Stephen Chenault
Publisher: Troll Lord Games
Line: D20
Price: $5.00
ISBN: 0-9702397-1-8
Product Code: TLG1101
Pages: 22

For an explanation of where these reviews came from and why you can no longer find them at RPGNet, click here.

In the past few days I’ve been asked several times why I still play Dungeons & Dragons.

After all, I’ve criticized the rules, the adventures, the design, and even the company. So why am I still running and playing this game?

There are a bunch of answers to this question. In fact, part of the answer to the question is that there ARE so many answers to the question.

The most basic answer is the Arneson & Gygax designed one hell of a game,  and with the exception of the most mangled edition of the game, D&D has never drifted so far that its core gameplay has become unrecognizable. There was a time, back in the ’90s, when, so frustrated that my house rules for AD&D had become longer than the core rulebooks themselves, I did give up on D&D for a while, wandering off in pursuit of the One True Way of Gaming. I’ve since learned that there is no One True Way of Gaming, which makes it easier to appreciate D&D for what it is instead of dwelling on everything it isn’t.

Another answer is, in the words of Ryan Dancey, network externality: There are a lot more people who want to play D&D than there are people who want to play any other RPG you’d care to name. It’s just easier to recruit players for D&D and, if I’m looking for a group to play in, I’m statistically more likely to find a group playing D&D. This matters less to me than it used to: After years of running open tables, I’ve recruited a large network of players I can tap into regardless of what system I’m running. (For example, I’ve had little or no difficulty getting players for my new Mothership-based open table.) But you can never completely escape D&D’s gravity well: I’m currently setting up a Heroes of the Borderlands table for my daughter and some of her friends who are desperately interested in playing D&D for the first time. I could try to run something else for them, but I’m not going to tell a bunch of kids to NOT be excited about the game they’re already excited about.

My own familiarity with D&D and its milieu has its advantages. Not only do I like D&D-esque fantasy in general, but my immense experience prepping and running D&D adventures means that I have a very large “bag of stuff” (as Robert Conley puts it) that makes it a lot easier for me to create and improvise stuff while playing D&D.

(This can actually be a double-edged sword if you’re not careful: Yes, I have a finely honed sense of what D&D-eseque fantasy means to me. But that can also be a creative rut that makes it difficult to break out of those tropes. Even with conscious effort, it can be easy to fall back into that rut, specifically because of the comfort and confidence it affords.)

This, of course, would apply to any of the many D&D-adjacent RPGs that are out there. But as a professional RPG designer, it’s also frequently important for me to stay tuned into the industry leader. I’ve had people ask me, for example, why So You Want to Be a Game Master assumes that the reader is most likely interested in running D&D and only pivots to discussing other systems in earnest after the newbie has gotten their feet under them. And the answer, of course, is that this is just the reality of things. D&D remains not only the primary gateway to the RPG hobby, but can still be relied on as a universal touchstone. (To the degree that, when I discuss other RPGs or RPGs in general in my writing or my videos, I not infrequently get comments from people confused because they think D&D is the only RPG in existence.)

(This need to stay in-tune with the current edition of D&D can be another double-edged sword for me. I’d probably have enjoyed several of the D&D 5th Edition games I’ve run over the years more if I’d house rules them more aggressively.)

D&D’s dominance, particularly in the 3E/5E OGL era, also means that D&D is blessed with bountiful source material. For example, when I was working on The Vladaam Affair last week and needed stat blocks for the archmages of the Red Company of Magi, all I needed to do was hit up Volo’s Guide to Monsters. I’ve talked in the past about looting bestiaries and trawling published modules when doing adventure and campaign prep. It’s something that very few other games even come close to achieving.

(This is something that I wish more RPGs would try to provide in a targeted fashion. Not only do I think published adventures are essential for an RPG, but modular components designed to be plugged into prep are vital. For example, Eclipse Phase produced a supplement called NPC File 1 which was just a collection of supporting cast stat blocks. It was literally a game changer for running Eclipse Phase games, because it was so effective at speeding up prep and enabling improvisation when the players jagged off in an unexpected direction. But, unfortunately, they never released a sequel and have never updated the NPC File for 2nd Edition.)

To make a long story short (too late), I really don’t see a time in my future when D&D won’t be part of my life.

Recently, though, I have been giving some long, hard thought to my relationship as a consumer (and reviewer) of Wizard of the Coast’s official D&D books. During the November meeting of the Alexandrian Hangout Club, I was asked if I would be reviewing Forgotten Realms: Adventures in Faerun. This was a particularly interesting release because it included 50+ one-page adventures, which definitely sounds like my jam. The only problem? I flipped through the book at my local game store and saw that, like other recent releases, many of the dungeon maps aren’t properly keyed. And that was only the most obvious failure in basic adventure design. (For a deeper dive, take a peek at Questing Beast’s recent video.)

Although I came somewhat late to D&D 5th Edition (finally getting sucked in by the intriguing promise of Dragon Heist), a combination of reasonably paced releases, financial security, and professional interest made it the first time that I lived out my childhood dream of buying every official D&D book as it came out. But I think that time is coming to an end. I may still be playing and running D&D 2024, but I think this revised edition is also a great jumping off point for me.

Will I be back some day? Probably. Last time I jumped off official D&D as a consumer was back in 2008, and I was gone for a decade. I have high hopes I’ll be back sooner this time. There’s new leadership at Wizards of the Coast, and perhaps we’ll see them right the ship over there.

Or perhaps not.

But either way: Good gaming!

DISCUSSING
In the Shadow of the Spire – Session 48B: The Fall of Tepal

The biggest story of the morning hours had been a mysterious fire in the Guildsmans’ District – an apartment building on Storm Street had burned to the ground in flames that witnesses reported to be a bright, phosphorescent blue (leading authorities to suspect magical arsonry).

But that news was being rapidly forgotten by the larger story sweeping across the city: An army had marched out of the Southern Desert, taken the city-state of Tepal by surprise, and sacked it.

Nasira was taken aback by the news. Learning that the news had arrived in Ptolus on three refugee ships she headed towards the docks. Speaking with passengers from the ships, however, she could discover little in the way of detail: The ships had sailed free just as the city was falling, and they could tell her nothing about the fate of her temple or the city itself once it had been taken.

At the beginning of this session, the PCs were visited by Talia and Marcus Hunter, delvers interested in exploring a section of Ghul’s Labyrinth which the PCs had previously discovered earlier in the campaign.

The Hunters are from Dark Tidings, an adventure by Monte Cook that was published back in 2009. In the original module, the PCs are hired by friends of the Hunters who want the PCs to save the Hunter expedition, which has gone missing in the Dungeons beneath Ptolus. If the PCs take the job, they’re given a full briefing on the back story, a map of the Dungeon area where the Hunters disappeared, and a list of the members of the Hunter expedition.

It’s a fun adventure and I wanted to incorporate it into the In the Shadow of the Spire campaign. One option, obviously, would be to run the scenario hook as written: The Hunter’s friends show up out of the blue and want to hire the PCs.

Instead, what I’m doing in this session is laying groundwork for the future adventure.

First, I’ve performed a campaign stitch: The Hunters aren’t going to disappear in some random section of the Dungeon. Instead, their explorations will be directly connected to the actions of the PCs. This means that I can also use Dark Tidings to answer the lingering question of what lies beyond one of the bluesteel doors in the Laboratory of the Beast. Plus, it lets me develop the Delver’s Guild and its inner workings a bit (with the delving contract), while also packaging up a unique, flavorful reward for the PCs (in the form of earning a percentage of the Hunter’s delving haul). All of which is also, conveniently, a great way to get the players invested in the fate of the Hunter party.

Second, of course, I’m setting up a reason for the PCs to be hired to save the Hunters when they go missing later in the campaign: It’s a section of Ghul’s Labyrinth they’re already familiar with, making them uniquely qualified for the job. There’s nothing wrong with random patrons popping up out of the blue to offer the PCs jobs on the basis of nothing but their reputation, but I’ve generally found it more effective when you can make things a little more personal. Not only does this make the campaign feel cohesive, it also means that the player’s choices have weight. (We tried to save the missing child at Greyson House, which led us to explore Ghul’s Labyrinth. We cleverly discovered a password which allowed us to discover the Laboratory of the Beast. We tried to sell the rare treasures we discovered there, which led to the deaths of the researchers from House Erthuo and, much later, the Hunters approaching us.)

Sometimes this sort of stuff will just organically happen during play. Sometimes, though, you need to look ahead and set things up. This doesn’t necessarily mean you need to have everything prepped ahead of time: You just need a general idea of what an upcoming scenario might look like. In this case, I’m setting up a published scenario, but we could just as easily imagine an original scenario where the only thing I really know is that (a) an adventuring party will approach the PCs and (b) will later go missing in order motivate further exploration of Ghul’s Labyrinth.

Published adventures, unfortunately, often overlook this type of groundwork. Since the author doesn’t know the particular details of your campaign, it’s easiest to have everything about the scenario arise from a tabula rasa. I think this is a mistake, though, and in my own work, as well as my work as an RPG Producer at Modiphius and Atlas Games, I emphasized the importance of including Groundwork tools that GMs could use to set up published scenarios in their own campaigns. (See Design Notes: Scenario Tools for more details on this.)

Regardless of what published adventures may do, however, as GMs I think we should always be looking fore these opportunities in our own campaigns.

In the case of the Hunters, the payoff for this groundwork would come eight sessions later., and the PCs wouldn’t actually go after the Hunters until Session 62, a full year and a half later in real time.

Sometimes you need to plant those seeds deep.

In fact, this sessions also features groundwork for a completely different adventure, with the Fall of Tepal being connected to multiple future scenarios.

Campaign Journal: Session 48C – Running the Campaign: Undead for Effect
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

IN THE SHADOW OF THE SPIRE

SESSION 48B: THE FALL OF TEPAL

January 9th, 2010
The 26th Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

With the negotiations finished at long last – and satisfied that they had made a good deal (while doing their best to protect the Hunters from the horrors of the Labyrinth and vice versa) – they headed downstairs and grabbed some newssheets.

The news was actually in the middle of a sharp shift: The biggest story of the morning hours had been a mysterious fire in the Guildsmans’ District – an apartment building on Storm Street had burned to the ground in flames that witnesses reported to be a bright, phosphorescent blue (leading authorities to suspect magical arsonry).

But that news was being rapidly forgotten by the larger story sweeping across the city: An army had marched out of the Southern Desert, taken the city-state of Tepal by surprise, and sacked it.

Nasira was taken aback by the news. Learning that the news had arrived in Ptolus on three refugee ships she headed towards the docks. Speaking with passengers from the ships, however, she could discover little in the way of detail: The ships had sailed free just as the city was falling, and they could tell her nothing about the fate of her temple or the city itself once it had been taken. Worse yet, the descriptions of the army made it clear that it was the Atapi who were responsible.

In confusion, Nasira retired to her room at the Ghostly Minstrel to meditate and pray, finding nothing in her thoughts to reconcile the sudden war-like change in the Atapi.

THE TALE OF GISSZAGGAT

Tee and Agnarr, meanwhile, were taking the crates from Mahdoth’s to the disposal site in the Temple District. Then they dumped the drakken’s body and fenced the loot they had collected from Mahdoth’s and the would-be assassins.

Ranthir, of course, spent the day studying (as was his wont).

Tor took Blue down to the Wings Falls. Riding down the long, mossy slant of Blue Street he quickly learned where it had gotten the name: The thick, watery mist cast up by the raging falls filled the air and turned it blue – in fact, blue rainbows were cast prismatically through the air.

Wings Falls itself proved to be a six-tiered step falls where the King’s Gorge narrowed into the ravine which carried the river between Midtown and the Temple District. The water sped up through the narrow pass and almost leapt over the steps of the falls. The falls took their name particularly from the uppermost step, where the water divided itself around an obelisk of harder, uneroded stone – leaping up and around it the water arched to form two “wings” that seemed to beat and dance through the air as if they would lift the entire river in flight.

While Tor frolicked in the mists, Elestra was trying to find some hint of the Haven of Gisszaggat. Following the Voice of the City she was guided to a small, worn-down shrine tucked into a nook of the Temple District.

Within the shrine she found an elderly, robed priest sitting in cross-legged prayer before a meditation flame. When she asked him of Gisszaggat, his eyes widened. “The tale of the demon Gisszaggat has been long forgotten save in a single tome.”

He told her the story: More than 700 years ago, in the days before the city had descended down from the cliffs of Oldtown, the demon Gisszaggat had risen from the caverns beneath the city. It had plagued the city and single-handedly laid siege to it. “It was written that Gisszaggat had never truly been defeated, but in pain and suffering he retreated back into the caverns beneath the Plain of Ptolus.”

“The Plain of Ptolus?”

“The vast expanse of grassland between the cliffs of the old city and the Docks by the sea.”

In other words, the area now inhabited by the Midtown and the markets and the Temple District.

Elestra thanked him, tipped him a gold, and then returned to her room. There, putting Gisszaggat far from her mind, she set herself to the task of studying an anti-poison spell from the Masks of Death that she hoped would prove effective against the corpse flowers or other deadly vegetation to be found in Alchestrin’s Tomb.

ENTERING THE TOMB OF ALCHESTRIN

They met outside the gates of the Necropolis about an hour before sunset. They were met with some suspicion by the Keepers of the Veil, but eventually allowed entry. (Although they were sternly cautioned that no one would be allowed to leave the Necropolis after sunset.)

They reached Darklock Hill and Alchestrin’s Tomb without difficulty, but as the sun set spectral howls echoed from the northern end of the Necropolis. These grew closer and more frequent as they worked, and shortly after the second moon rose they saw a torchlit procession some distance away to the west.

The plug itself turned relatively easily, but leveraging it out proved quite time-consuming. It took them the better part of half an hour to finally breach the Tomb. A twisting stair of stone curled its way down through the iron shaft into which the plug had been set.

They followed Tee down into the stygian gloom, which seemed to encroach unnaturally upon their lights.

Running the Campaign: Laying Groundwork – Campaign Journal: Session 48C
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index