IN THE SHADOW OF THE SPIRE

THE BLOATED LORDS
(Chaos Lorebook)

They were the least of those that served. They were corruption given flesh; a corpulence of festering death and decay. Rebellious in spirit, yet forever bound to the power of their masters.

This tome describes the zaug – one of the “servitors of the Galchutt”. Physically the zaug were grossly obese humanoids with no hair. They had wide mouths full of teeth, claws for hands, and short horns on their heads. Some are described as possessing vestigial, rotting wings. A few passages describe their bodies as “corrupted receptacles”. Sores and oozing pus and bile covered their fat flesh. And much of their skin hung loose in rotting folds, pocked with holes from which intestines and other guts hung out – spurting vile fluids.

Several passages are given over to describing festering poisons and other vile alchemical substances that could be created from the “bile of the zaug”, although no true details of the required procedures are given.

The flesh of the zaug itself is ever-regenerating – allowing it to survive despite the diseases, poisons, and parasites that teem through its body. They are said to never eat or drink or breathe, and to speak only telepathically.

THE SOULHARVESTERS

Some among the zaug were transformed by the Galchutt and “turned to a new purpose”. As the zaug were made living receptacles for manifest corruption, the zaug soulharvesters became living prisoners for captured and tormented souls.

“Their very flesh burned with the fire of the souls which screamed within them.”

“Their hunger was without end, fed eternally by the torment of those who seared their flesh.”

Where the flesh of the zaug festered, the beruned and corpulent flesh of the soulharvesters was glistening and taut. And pressing out against the green-veined and pallid skin of their guts were the screaming faces of those imprisoned within them.

The “soulfire flesh” of the zaug soulharvesters is described as an immense, living power source.

THE LORE OF THE LATTER YEARS

And while their masters slept, the labors of the zaug were endless.

Later lore describes the zaug working with the “titans of the Purple City” in labors of “the technology of the taint” as they worked to “perfect the crafts gifted from beyond the Demonweb”.

Other passages refer to the zaug working in the laboratories of Ghul the Skull-King. “And their works turned to the binding and changing of the flesh, and the lesser races were turned into weapons of dark might.”

KASTRALATHAKASAL

And in the sleep of the Galchutt and the sealing of the Vaults of the Rhodintor, the zaug at last found their freedom. And in their caverns of the deep, their works turned inward.

Deep beneath the surface of the earth, it is said that Kastralathakasal – the City of the Zaug – “stands citadel upon the Throne of Darkness”. The city itself is described as a stronghold of alien metals and living, organic components.

Running the Campaign: All Your Zaug Belong to Us – Campaign Journal: Session 40C
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

Androids have a lot of advantages in Mothership, being functionally immune to a bunch of dangers that humans have to contend with.

So I thought it was only fair to level the playing field a bit…

PSEUDOMILK PARASITES

[W:1(3), Android Infestation: Body Save or 1d10 DMG/minute]

These opal-white flatworms have evolved to feed on the pseudomilk “blood” used by most androids and some supercomputer installations. They can notably infest android production lines, grinding synth factories to a halt.

They are, of course, also dangerous to individual androids, clotting their pumps and damaging their cybertronic systems (both directly and due to depriving them of pseudomilk).

In addition to individual androids, pseudomilk gestation pools, pseudomilk infusion bags, and the like, the parasites have evolved to embed themselves in synthflesh and plastic. They can also be found dormant in other liquids. This is particularly true of the parasite’s embryos, up to 40,000 of which of which may be found in a fertile proglottid.

They pose no known threat to humans.

Officials have now confirmed the reports of a massive outbreak of parasites among the pleasurebots on Pandora Station.

CUT TO—

Dr. Eberhaus: We’ve never seen anything like this. It appears that the Taenia lacsitienti on Pandora have evolved to infect human gonads with their larvae, allowing them to pass between android hosts via human sexual contact.

CUT TO—

It remains unclear what effect, if any, the worms may have on their human hosts, but those who may have been exposed — directly or indirectly — to the Pandora outbreak should schedule a medical scan as soon as possible.

LX-510 SuperNEWS Broadcast

Android Infestation: If an android touches a pseudomilk parasite, the worm will aggressively burrow into their skin with shocking speed. The android must succeed on a Body save [-] to prevent the worm from burrowing in, and must make an additional Body save once per minute or suffer 1D10 damage.

Treatment is difficult:

• Immediately amputating a limb has a 90% chance of stopping a burrowed parasite (-20% chance per round).
• Applying flame or acid to the wound may kill the worm, dealing 1 point of damage to the worm for every 3 points suffered by the android.

If the worm has burrowed deep, a cybernetic diagnostic scanner may be able to locate the worm, although extracting it without inflicting significant physical trauma will likely be difficult or impossible without proper treatment facilities.

An emergency exsanguination will disable the android and, if not carried out with proper equipment, carries a risk of significant damage (Body save or 3D10 DMG). But it can also force the worm to make a Body save or suffer 1D10 DMG. (Even if it survives, the worm will usually enter a dormant state and reduce damage checks to once per day, possibly allowing enough time for the android to be moved to a proper treatment facility.)

If an android has been infested by a worm for more than ten minutes, they must also make a Body save to determine if they have a larval exposure (see below).

Larval Exposure: When individual androids are exposed to parasitic larvae, for example,

• wading or bathing in contaminated liquids
• physically interfacing with an infested android/system
• using a contaminated synthflesh or plastic item
• wearing infested power armor or clothes

they must succeed on a Body save [-] or become infested, with 1D6-1 worms hatching 2D10 hours later and every hour thereafter. (Each additional worm after the first adds +1 damage per damage check.)

Risky Environments: Androids in risky environments — e.g., powering down in a parasite-infested facility — might have a 1 in 6 chance per hour of attracting the attention of a pseudomilk parasite.

Valpurna Cyberdoc: Bite marks identified on right calf. Source biological or synethetic?

Ettin 5: Synthetic. w0lf-XYα security pack.

Valpurna Cyberdoc: Initiating emergency parasitic scan.

Next: Pseudomilk Predators

Learn the fine art of getting everybody in the same room to play the game! We’ll talk about both types of schedules and attendance policies. And discover why Jessica just won’t let us play.

TYPES OF SCHEDULE

• Regular
• Ad Hoc
• Open Table

ATTENDANCE POLICY

• Mandatory
• Minimum Threshold

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The Haunting of Ypsilon-14 is a pamphlet adventure for the Mothership roleplaying game. It’s just two pages long and designed to fold up as a trifold pamphlet. The goal is to make this an adventure that a GM can pick up, read in about fifteen minutes, and then immediately run. In addition to the super-fast character creation and streamlined rules of Mothership, the result is an RPG that you can pick up and play as easily as you might a board game or card game.

I think the short length of the adventure can also make it a great example of how I read and use published adventures, as described at length in How to Prep a Module. I’m going to try to give you a peek into my thought process as I read through Ypsilon-14: What I’m looking for, what I’m prepping, and how I’m solving problems before they happen at the table. Even if it’s all happening in just fifteen minutes.

Although I don’t think it’s necessary, you might want to grab a copy of the adventure to follow along.

SPOILERS AHEAD!

THE HOOK

The basic concept of Ypsilon-14 is that Dr. Ethan Giovanni, while studying a mysterious “yellow goo” discovered by asteroid miners, has woken up an alien at the mining colony and now it’s killing people.

The published scenario hook for the adventure is that the PCs have come to a mining asteroid (the titular Ypsilon-14) to pick up some cargo.

This is not a bad hook. It gets the PCs where the scenario is so that they can start interacting with it. What I notice, though, is that it could very easily require some heavy-lifting in actual play to get the players invested in the action and have a clear vector for taking action. (For example, it would be pretty easy for the PCs to just stay at the docking bay and wait, forcing the GM to figure out how to bring the action to them.) The scenario hook is relying on open-ended player curiosity, which can be fine, but isn’t particularly strong.

If I was planning to run this as part of an ongoing campaign, I would look to make the hook specific to the PCs and their goals: Not generic cargo, for example, but a specific thing that the PCs need. Or maybe the PCs learn that Dr. Giovanni has information that they need, and now they’ve tracked him to Ypsilon-14.

In my case, I’m planning to run Ypsilon-14 as an open table one-shot, so the hook will need to be more generic. (Although I might look for opportunities to feed specific hooks or connections to the adventure to various PCs: For example, if someone creates a former asteroid miner, I might suggest Ypsilon-14 as a place they previously worked.)

What I will do, though, is make the generic cargo pick-up more specific: The PCs have been hired to pick up a scientific sample from Dr. Giovanni.

I do this knowing that:

• The sample they’re picking up is the extremely dangerous yellow goo, which will encourage them to interact with it.
• Giovanni, having been infected by the yellow goo, is locked up inside his ship.
• His workstation, where he accidentally woke up the alien and also where I think I’ll place the sample container the PCs are supposed to pick up, is located down in the mining tunnels.

What I’m looking at here are the vectors of the hook: Where is the hook pointing the PCs?

The vector of the original hook terminated at the Docking Bay. As you can see, though, just a slight change to the hook creates vectors that point much deeper into the adventure.

With the PCs, therefore, motivated to follow those vectors, it will be much easier for the players to get invested in the scenario. Their actions in pursuing the vector will also give me more opportunities to bring the other elements of the adventures (e.g., people going missing and alien attacks) into play as part of the natural flow of the action.

CATCHING BOOBY TRAPS

Published adventures often have booby traps: Information that’s either missing or hidden that can unexpectedly sabotage you at the table.

Sometimes these are deliberately included by designers who want the GM to read the adventure as if it were a novel: They want you to be flat-footed by their surprise ending! And, for some reason, you’ll often read mystery scenarios where you have to first solve the mystery yourself before you can run it.

More often, they’re just mistakes and oversights.

For example, in Dr. Giovanni’s workstation in the mines:

A small WORKSTATION of scientific equipment has been set up nearby. A SCANNER relays readings from the pod to the Heracles [his ship] and a SCRAP OF PAPER sits on the desk that reads “0389.”

There are two booby traps here. The milder of the two is that I don’t know what “0389” means unless I cross-reference it to a different section of the adventure.

The more significant one is the scanner relaying readings to the Heracles: First, what do the readings say? I could improvise that, but it feels pretty core to the adventure so I’d probably throw some prep on that. More significantly, these readings aren’t mentioned in the write-up for the Heracles, so if the PCs go to the Heracles first, I could very easily not realize that PCs checking the Heracles’ computers should notice the scanner reading being relayed.

Another booby trap can be found with the crew listings. The adventure includes a great reference for the CHARACTERS in the adventure, listing everyone on the station. This write-up includes:

DANA. Head Driller. Stoich, professional, sullen.

KANTARO. Leader. Muscular, quiet, hasn’t bathed in a few days.

That’s all well and good. But in the adventure key for the crew quarters, we can also read:

KANTARO’S BUNK. Dana’s clothes mixed in with Kantaro’s laundry.

And you can probably immediately see the problem: Kantaro is in a relationship with Dana (or he’s a huge creep. But because that essential information isn’t included in the character write-ups, you could very easily end up roleplaying Dana and/or Kantaro earlier in the adventure without realizing they’re in a relationship and end up creating a continuity issue that booby traps you later.

This kind of “essential information missing from a section of the adventure that presents itself as a comprehensive reference” is a surprisingly common booby trap. Obviously, though, it can be cleared up if you just keep an eye open for booby traps while reading the adventure and make a quick note in, for example, their character write-ups.

INFORMATION FLOW

I also like to identify the essential information in a scenario, make sure I understand how the players will get that information, and improve this process where I can.

In the case of Ypsilon-14, there seems to be three key pieces of information that should be established at the beginning of the scenario:

• A miner named Mike is missing.
• Ethan Giovanni is a scientist who’s doing research onsite.
• The cast of characters — nine miners + a cat named Prince.

There doesn’t need to be a single, definitive vector for any of this information, and just having the mental list of what’s essential will go a long way towards setting you up for success at the table. But I’m not above giving myself a little clearer structure to work with.

First, you’ll note that I’ve already sorted Dr. Ethan Giovanni by connecting him to the scenario hook. So that’s done.

Second, in the adventure as written, Mike has been missing since last night and everybody knows it. So presumably, at some point, I can just have one of the NPCs give that information to the PCs. But what if we show instead of tell?

As written, when the PCs’ ship docks, Sonya, the team leader on Ypsilon-14, unlocks the docking bay door for them. What if, instead, Mike was supposed to be on monitoring duty? So the PCs dock, signal the mining station, and… nothing. They get no reply. You can give the players a little rope to figure out how they want to respond to that, but eventually Sonya will show up, open the door, and apologize on behalf of Mike’s dumb ass. Or, if the PCs have already hacked their way through the docking bay door by the time Sonya arrives, maybe that conversation goes a different way. Either way, “Mike was supposed to be here, where the fuck is he?” gets established through action that directly affects the PCs.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Third, we have the cast of characters. This is essential information because (a) “Oh no! Jerome is missing now, too!” is probably more effective if the players know who Jerome is; (b) until the PCs figure out an alien is involved, this is your list of suspects; and (c) once things shift fully into survival horror mode, these are the people who need to be kept alive.

When an adventure has a large cast of characters like this, it’s vital that you don’t just introduce them all at once. It’s literally impossible for the players to process an info dump like that: They’ll never be able to remember their names, differentiate them as individuals, or form any meaningful relationship with them. The NPCs will just be an anonymous mob to them.

So when I see a big list of characters like this in an adventure, I’m immediately thinking about how I can split them up and sequence their introduction. In this case, my rough thoughts are:

• They meet Sonya first, as described above.
• One or two more people can come into this opening scene, probably prompting an additional discussion about the missing Mike. (Sonya: “Have you seen Mike?” “Not since last night after he broke the fucking shower.”) Maybe the cat could be in this scene and Morgan comes in looking for her?
• Throw together a quick adversary roster for everybody else.

The function of the “adversary” roster here is to just split everybody up into smaller groups and scatter them around the base. Specific groupings and locations probably won’t stick as the situation evolves, but it’ll still give me a good starting point for spreading out the introductions.

Looking at the cast list:

• It looks pretty easy to split them into On Duty and Off Duty.
• I can split the On Duty crew between those near the entrance to the mine in the Mine Tunnel and those working in the Depths.
• Off Duty crew can be split between Crew Quarters, Mess, and the Showers.

As I’m quickly spreading these characters around, I’m likely already getting ideas for how some of these scenes could be framed up. (For example, if I put Ashraf and Kantaro in the Mess, what might they be arguing about? Or is it Dana and Kantaro in there and they’re flirting with each other? Or is Dana supposed to be in her quarters, but she’s missing if you go looking for her because she’s actually shacked up with Kantaro in his quarters? If Rie is sleeping, how do they react if they get woken up? And so forth.)

If a particularly brilliant idea occurs to me here, I’ll jot it down for posterity. But I’ll usually just let these wash over me. It’s a sign that the scenario is beginning to take life in my imagination, but I’ll trust myself to find the rights answers while improvising at the table.

WRAPPING UP

On that note, the intention of a minimalist adventure like The Haunting of Ypsilon-14 is to give the GM raw material and trust them to improvise.

This is, of course, good praxis: Don’t prep stuff that you can improvise at the table.

With that being said, if you see a place where the adventure is expecting you to improvise and either (a) you’re not comfortable improvising that or (b) you see a big value add from prep, then you should finish up by prepping that stuff.

For example, Sonya has a collection of cassette tapes in her quarters and she’ll blast music from her boombox. Improvising a bunch of titles for her cassettes is the type of thing that I, personally, can get hung up on in a session, so maybe that’s something I’d want to do ahead of time. (In this specific case, that’s being balanced against my desire to keep my prep for these open table one-shots somewhere between “extremely minimal” and “none at all,” so I’ll probably end up skipping it.)

As another example, with the large cast of characters it might be useful to grab pictures for each of them that you can show to the players to help keep them all straight. Along these same lines, if you’re not feeling confident in improvising these characters from the minimalist descriptions, then maybe it’s worthwhile to spin up a universal roleplaying template for each of them.

It’s important to remember that there’s no “right” answer here: It’s about what you feel confident improvising at the table and what added material, if any, seems valuable to you.

In this case, jotting down the prep described above took about fifteen minutes. That feels about right for how I’m choosing to use this module, and I think I’ve set myself up for success at the gaming table. What and how you choose to prep will different from the choices I made, but ultimately we have the same goal!

If you’re reading this, then you’re probably more dedicated to the RPG hobby than most.

You’ve probably read the rulebook.

You’ve probably made cheat sheets to help you master the game (and to help you fake it ‘til you make it).

So you’ll likely find yourself in a position where you know more about the game’s rules than the other people you’re playing with. You might even know more than your GM!

How can you share that mastery with the table?

First, obviously, you can answer any questions that come up during play that you know the answer to. (Even just knowing where in the rulebook the answer might be found can be very useful!)

Second, let the other people at the table with you – particularly new players – know that you have experience with the game and you’d be happy to answer any questions they have.

Third, if you’ve made a rules cheat sheet for the game, share it with the rest of the group!

As you’re helping other players, remember that your goal is to help them make the choice that THEY want to make. Don’t just tell them what to do. We call that quarterbacking. If you do that, then they’re not really getting to play the game, and that’s not fun.

One way to avoid quarterbacking is to focus on helping newbies do what they want to do, but better. (For example, if they say they want to skewer an orc on their rapier, you might remind them that their Dexterous Riposte bennie lets them double their Agiltiy bonus to damage.)

Along similar lines, make sure you’re explaining the rule to them, not just telling them what to do. Your goal should be for them to learn the game so that you don’t need to keep helping them!

When the occasion does arrive for specific advice – for example, if they ask, “What do you think I should do?” – you can still avoid quarterbacking by giving them two or three options instead of just one. That way they still get to decide what their character actually does. (And sometimes, seeing those options will actually spur them to a new and creative idea that’s all their own!)

This works even better if you can also explain the positives and negatives for each choice, helping them to understand how to think about similar choices in the future. (For example, you might say, “Well, you could rush into melee and attack with your monocord. That’ll do more damage, but put you at risk for a counterattack. Or you could hang back and shoot your pistol from a distance. You’ll be safer back there, but you’ll be shooting into melee and have disadvantage on your attack roll.”)

HELPING THE GAME MASTER

Helping your GM with the rules can be a surprisingly touchy subject.

The really good GMs are going to recognize your expertise and will actively seek it out. They’ll be the ones saying things like, “Hey, Nina, do you remember how the grappling rules work?” or, “Asem, could you look up the range of a bullseye lantern?”

But you may discover that other GMs won’t be thrilled with you talking about the rules, and some can be downright hostile about it.

For some GMs this is an aesthetic preference. They want the players interacting with and thinking about the game world as if they were their characters. They don’t want them thinking about the rules.

It can also be because GMs, rightly, believe that part of their responsibility is to be an expert in the rules and to use that expertise to the benefit of the players and the game. When a player tries to correct a mistake or simply provide their own expertise, therefore, some GMs will feel like the player is implying that they’re somehow failing or even abusing their position.

A few GMs will take this even further, believing that they have ultimate authority at the table and, like a tinpot dictator, can’t have anyone questioning that authority or implying that they’re less than omniscient. (Ugh. Kind of a red flag, in my opinion.)

It’s kind of like a student correcting a teacher’s mistake. The good teachers will politely take the correction and the best teachers will actually get excited about it. But, of course, some teachers – sometimes even otherwise pretty good teachers! – just can’t handle it.

Complicating this simple picture are rules lawyers. These players have expertise in the rules, but instead of using their knowledge to help improve the game, they’ll instead selectively use the rules and even deliberately misinterpret them in order to gain personal advantages.

When it’s not outright cheating, rules lawyering skirts right up against it, and it can be particularly pernicious because rules lawyers will frequently turn every rules question into a lengthy debate that distracts and detracts from the game.

Many GMs will have had bad experiences with rules lawyers in the past, and their hostility towards players offering an opinion on the rules will often be a reaction to those bad experiences.

To avoid being a rules lawyer, when you think the GM is overlooking a rule or getting it wrong, politely offer the information you have as briefly and completely as you can. Then let the GM, with your information in hand, make their ruling and figure out what happens in the game. Whatever the outcome is, let the game roll on. If you still have a problem with how things played out, then approach the GM after the session to talk it out and make sure you can both be on the same page in future sessions.

This same advice holds in general: If you feel like the way you’re sharing your rules mastery at the table is creating friction – whether with the GM or with the other players – just have a chat with them about it between session. Explain where you’re coming from and why it’s important to you to be a positive resource, and see if you can all reach an agreement that can benefit the game and make everyone happy.