The Alexandrian

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Ptolus - In the Shadow of the Spire
IN THE SHADOW OF THE SPIRE

SESSION 20E: INTO PYTHONESS HOUSE

April 27th, 2008
The 9th Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

Ptolus: Night of Dissolution - Pythoness House

Tee and Dominic returned to the Ghostly Minstrel only a few minutes before Ranthir emerged from his room. Ranthir introduced Erin to his friends and grabbed a bite to eat for himself.

Then they headed towards Oldtown and, within a quarter of an hour, they were standing on the street before Pythoness House.

The keep-like house seemed dreary beneath the noon sun – grimed and crumbling from years of neglect. Tee and Elestra were able to slip through the iron gate facing Emmitt Street, but Agnarr was forced to shove the rusty metal to one side causing it to emit a horrible shriek.

Looking through the stone arch on the front of the house they could see through a short passage into an interior courtyard. As the others came up the hill, Tee took the lead and headed through.

She was halfway through the stone passage when some instinct caused her to look up: A small, black metallic sphere was being dropped through a small murder hole!

Tee leaped forward as the powder bomb landed behind her and exploded. She managed to avoid the worst of the blast, rolling into the inner courtyard as several small mice scattered ahead of her. Agnarr and Tor, seeing the explosion, came running up – only to dash headlong into a second powder bomb.

Tee rolled to her feet and tried to find a target with her dragon pistol – but the opening was too small and the angle poor. She couldn’t see anything.

“COME TO ME…” The disembodied voice seemed to spring up from all around Tee – echoing through the courtyard and dancing through the empty windows and doors of the house. Tee whirled around, trying to find the source of it… but there was nothing there.

Elestra, Ranthir, and Dominic dashed through the passage into the courtyard. Agnarr and Tor pulled a rear guard, and barely managed to dive out of the way as a third bomb filled with dung was dropped.

Agnarr hauled himself to his feet, wiping a few flecks of disgusting excrement off of his armor. “That was digusting. Wait—listen!” His sharp ears had caught the sounds of skittering claws racing across stone – whoever or whatever had been using the murder hole was running off to the west through the upper passages. Then something large was thrown to the floor, and there was a booming noise – a large door being slammed.

Then there was silence. (more…)

Death in Technoir

September 11th, 2019

Technoir

Last week, in discussing how System Matters, I posited the hypothetical situation of an RPG which didn’t include a combat system. I did so because the entire concept is inherently radical: Including a D&D-derived combat system (even if it’s several generations distant from its progenitor) is such an essentially universal element of RPG design that the idea of a game which doesn’t do that is perceived as bizarre. I’ve actually seen people get angry at the suggestion, so ingrained has the expectation become.

So let’s talk about an RPG that actually does this: Technoir.

HOW TECHNOIR WORKS

We need to start by explaining how Technoir works:

First, characters are given numerical ratings in nine Verbs: Coax, Detect, Fight, Hack, Move, Operate, Prowl, Shoot, and Treat. These are basically the equivalent of ability scores seen in most roleplaying games.

Technoir - Jeremy KellerThe core mechanic of Technoir is to use a Verb to push an Adjective onto a target. The Adjective is literally any adjective: A word describing a quality possessed by a noun (i.e., the person or thing that you targeted). By pushing an Adjective onto a target, you are changing the description of that thing. In doing so, of course, you are fundamentally affecting the fictional reality of that thing: A computer system which has been hacked or bot-slaved is fundamentally different from that has been secured.

The mechanics of the game elaborate on this central conceit by (a) varying the severity of the Adjective you can apply (from fleeting to sticky to locked), (b) giving you mechanical structures for using these Adjective (so that they’re not just nebulous descriptions of fictional state, but also mechanically meaningful constructs), and (c) providing mechanical methods for removing negative Adjectives.

The cool thing about these mechanics is that they’re not dependent on the Adjectives you’re pushing: The mechanical structures work whether you’re pushing bullet-riddled or sympathetic or terrified.

STAKES IN TECHNOIR

In most RPGs, the combat system defaults to “I want him dead” as the stakes for the scene. In fact, this is often the only time traditional RPGs mechanically declare whether or not the stakes of a scene are achieved. (Most RPGs provide lots of mechanics for determining whether a specific method chosen by a character has been successful, but ultimately leave the question of whether or not that allows the character to achieve their actual goal to the GM fiat. See The Art of Rulings for a lengthier discussion of this.)

Technoir goes in almost exactly the opposite direction: You can’t push “unconscious” or “dead” or anything else that could remove the target’s agency in one hit unless your target is a Henchman (i.e., a mook). You can trivially set virtually anything else as the stakes for a roll, but not death.

This is a mechanical implementation of one of the pillars that Technoir identifies in the hard-boiled stories it’s seeking to emulate:

COME AT THEM SIDEWAYS

The conspiracy is bigger than her. The forces she’s dealing with could crush her like an insect. She can’t just kill all her enemies, she’ll have to outwit them. As such, this game doesn’t have a combat system designed for defeating opponents. It has a social manipulation system that gives the player the means to influence characters and nudge the narrative direction in which violent methods may be employed.

One of the semi-invisible consequences of combat systems and death being the only place where traditional RPGs mechanically declare a scene’s outcome is that a lot of GMs and players have become heavily conditioned over the years to think of death as the default ending for any conflict. And this is really weird when you think about it, because it’s not the way it generally works in other storytelling mediums (and it’s definitely not the way it works in real life).

Technoir breaks that conditioning. This means that the GM and players alike need to think about what they really want and how they can achieve that. The concept of vectors is really important in Technoir: If you want to achieve X by doing Y, then there needs to be a clear path by which Y can achieve X. You need to line up your shot. The fact that vectors aren’t always a straight line is, of course, the whole point. Sometimes the PCs have to push one adjective onto an NPC before they can push the one that they want (you need to get them trusting you before you can seduce them into being vulnerable). Or you’ll need to make it stick before you can lock it down.

The same is true for NPCs: If you’re the GM, make sure you know what they actually want out of the scene. Once they’ve got it, they aren’t going to stick around. Have them push the escaped adjective onto themselves, spend the Push dice they need to lock it against the players, and skedaddle.

DEATH IN TECHNOIR

Sniper

All of this is not to say that character death is taken completely off the table in Technoir. What good noir story doesn’t feature death, after all? What if what an PC wants is to kill a PC? For example, let’s say the GM wants to frame a scene where a sniper takes a shot at a PC because they’ve been asking the wrong sort of questions.

The assassin’s bullet is going to push mortally wounded as an adjective onto the PC and the GM is going to lock that fucker in place by spending a couple of Push dice. And the important part is that once they’ve taken that shot — once they’ve pushed that adjective — the scene probably ends.

At this point the rules for “Lethal Consequences” are going to kick in: “At the end of any scene in which one or more adjectives were asserted that describe physical harm against a character, there is a chance that adjective might lead to the character’s death.” The specific mechanics for working that out aren’t particularly important for this discussion (but you can find them on page 138 of the rulebook). The point is that the PC has to check to see if he’s dying from this adjective or not. Even if he’s not dying from the wound, of course, he’s still going to be permanently debilitated by his injury until somebody pays to chrome him up.

And when the assassin finds out his target somehow survived the shot, he’s going to be coming back to try again. What are the PCs going to do about that?

That final bit is the really key element to grokking Technoir: The question of, “Do you live or die?” is not intrinsically interesting. You might die, but the game is far more interested in making you own your adjectives and then asking, “And what do you do about that? How do you fix it? How do you live with it?” Mortal injuries from sniper rifles aren’t inherently more significant in that equation that having your heart metaphorically ripped out.

As far as NPC death is concerned, I’ve already mentioned that Henchmen can be killed in a single shot (by spending Push dice to make dead lock onto them). The rulebook is a little less clear about what it takes to knock out Heavies and Connections (the other categories of NPCs), but what it boils down to is vector: If the PCs can put themselves in a position where they can justify getting the bullet to stick, the GM should let it stick. (That might mean beating them bloody. It might mean compromising their security. It might mean breaking their leg and making them helpless before you cap a bullet into their skull. It’ll depend on circumstances.) Note, too, that the “Lethal Consequences” rules don’t specify player characters; in fact, it says the opposite. The GM can (and should) use those rules for NPCs, too: You shot the Bride in the head and left her dead, but she woke up.

What are you going to do about that?

Feng Shui - Shot Counter

One of my favorite sections of the Feng Shui 2 rulebook can be found on pg. 223-224. In a section entitled “Running Fights,” Robin D. Laws succinctly walks you through the exact procedures he follows at the table during a Feng Shui fight.

I don’t mean the rules. Those are located elsewhere. This is much more practical than that. For example:

Note the highest shot of any of your GMCs. Ask the players if any of them have a result higher than the highest shot you have marked on your shot counter. If so, that becomes your highest shot. If not, your GMC’s first shot is the first shot of the sequence.

Go to your laptop, and the browser tab in which you’ve opened your counter app. I use a Chrome browser app called, shockingly enough, Counter. Set the counter number to the first shot of the sequence, which you’ve just determined.

(…)

After a player acts, she moves her single token on her personal shot counter a number of spaces equal to the shot cost of the action — usually 3.

If multiple GMCs act on the same shot, they act in the order you’ve noted them on your scratch pad, from top to bottom.

This sort of “best practices” stuff is really useful. So much GMing advice in this hobby is wrapped up in big, abstract concepts: We need more of this nuts-and-bolts stuff.

Let’s call them table procedures. What are you actually doing at the table? How can that be improved? How does that make the game better for you and your players? The very first GM Tip post here on the Alexandrian was mostly about this sort of thing.

USING THE SHOT COUNTER

On that topic, I’ve spent the last few months experimenting with Feng Shui 2 in an effort to figure out the best table procedures for running the game. This effort has been driven in part by a desire to figure out what tools Atlas Games can provide to our Special Ops GMs so that they can run the best convention and demo games possible.

Here’s what you’ll need:

A shot counter. One is provided on p. 348 of the rulebook. If want it to last awhile, I recommend printing it out on matte photo paper and/or laminating it. I generally keep this counter directly in front of me.

Pawns

A pair of colored pawns for each PC. These are very affordable. Here’s a very cheap set on Amazon. Each PC should have their own color and each of them should have two pawns in that color. Wooden meeples are another relatively cheap option.

When a PC rolls initiative, they should place one of their colored pawns on the shot counter at their initiative result. The matching colored pawn stays on the table in front of them. This very quickly allows everyone at the table to identify that, for example, Suzie is the red pawn. (You can get a similar result by using custom miniatures for each PC or  simply using the same colors consistently over a long period of time until everyone has learned who goes to which color. But the dual-pawn system basically simulates that mastery instantaneously.

Plastic Discs

Multiple pairs of flat, colored discs for the GMCs. Similar to those used in bingo games. This unfortunately means you need to buy much larger sets than you need (since you only need two chits in each color), but even with large numbers of extraneous chits, the sets are cheap on Amazon.

For each fight, the GM should print out the GMC stat blocks on a single sheet of paper. Place that sheet on the table separately from your other notes for easy reference. For each GMC, place a colored chit on the shot counter and a matching chit right on top of or next to the stat block. In this way, you don’t have to keep any written notes on initiative check results.

(I experimented with numbered chits instead, but players found them difficult to read from across the table. Using chits instead of pawns for the GMCs not only opens up primary colors that would otherwise be claimed by the PCs, but also makes it incredibly easy to tell when the next PC is going with a simple glance at the shot counter.)

Once the fight begins, the GM simply moves the counters and chits down the track an appropriate number of spaces based on the shot cost of the action they’re taking.

For PC actions, I will generally do this as the action is being declared (so it’s usually happening simultaneously with the player rolling their dice). For GMCs, I will generally do it immediately after their action has been resolved. The goal is to multitask the time spent moving chits on the shot counter so that the action flows smoothly through it.

Another advantage of this approach is that it combines well with the technique described in Feng Shui: Filling the Shot: Because you can quickly identify which characters are acting in each shot with a single glance, it becomes much easier to group those actions together and frame them into the shot.

IN THE SHADOW OF THE SPIRE

Session 20D: The Talk of the Town

They headed over the Temple of Asche. Unfortunately, Mand Scheben wasn’t there. They made plans to come back the next day. They also tried to meet with Lord Zavere, but he was also out (Kadmus told them that he had gone out with Lord Abbercombe and was not expected back until the next morning).

This sort of “the person you went to go see isn’t available right now” moment is actually a really great way to make sure that your world feel like it’s actually a real, living place with a persistent existence beyond the PCs: The NPCs aren’t just video game characters with yellow exclamation marks over their heads.

Although it’s a very minor technique, in practice it’s actually a fairly sophisticated one and I honestly wouldn’t recommend it for beginning GMs. That might sound crazy for something that seems to incredibly easy to execute: When a player says they want to go see Person X, you just say, “No.” Simple.

But the fact that you’re saying “No” is actually what makes it tricky to pull off well. Remember that you generally want to Default to Yes when you’re GMing. So if you’re doing this, you want to make sure that you’re not just doing it in order to stymie your players (i.e., that you’re not preventing them from seeing Person X because you want to railroad them onto a different path).

In this case, the unavailability of Lord Zavere was actually something that I had plotted out in my campaign status document, and it self-evidently had nothing to do with Tee’s specific desire to see him here (since I’d had no idea that any of this was going to happen before we started play). For Mand Scheben, there’s an indicator of my good faith in making the decision in the fact that the PCs actually manage to catch up with him a little later.

But it’s actually a little trickier than that: It’s not enough for you not to be intentionally blocking a player choice, you also need to make sure that the players don’t perceive you as having intentionally blocked their choice. These usually go hand-in-hand, but sometimes that’s not the case. This technique is a particular quagmire in this regard: Any time you say “No” to the players without a clear explanation for why the answer is “No” you risk them interpreting that decision as capricious and, therefore, that they’re being railroaded; but the entire point of this technique is, in fact, to establish that the game world exists beyond their perceptions and does not owe them answers!

How do you square that circle? Largely by earning the players’ trust. And you do that by being earnest and forthright in how you’re running your game. If you establish – repeatedly and consistently – that your decisions are coming from the game world and that the players can trust you to roll with their ideas and to follow them to the most unexpected places, then when they’re met with the inexplicable and the frustrating they will identify that frustration as coming from the game world and not from the Game Master.

And that’s valuable well beyond the confines of this simple little technique, because when your players stop trying to keep one eye on the wizard behind the curtain it allows your game world to truly come alive.

BEGINNER-LEVEL TECHNIQUE

A much easier version of this technique can be done by inverting the approach: Instead of having an NPC unavailable when the PCs want to talk to them, have the PCs unavailable when an NPC wants to talk to them. The PCs return to their office and find a note slipped under the door (“It is urgent that we meet at once!”) or come home to find a message on their answering machine.

If you schedule NPC approaches to the PCs in the campaign status document, you’ll find that these moments arise completely organically. (The sheet says Person X is coming to see them at their office at 3pm on the 10th, but at 3pm on the 10th they’re fighting xorbloids from Aldebaran.)

Because you’re not blocking a player-chosen intention, pulling this off without negative side-effects is fairly trivial. (Although you’ll probably still want to avoid overdoing it.) But it achieves a similar effect by asserting that the other characters in the world have lives and schedules that are not completely centered on the activities of the PCs. With that being said, when the consequences for missing a meeting turn bad (their would-be client gets killed before they can contact her, for example), it will nevertheless be much more effective if you’ve established trust with the players (because they’ll blame themselves for the bad outcome and not you — you didn’t arbitrarily choose to have them miss the client, they could have been there; they could have saved her).

Ptolus - In the Shadow of the Spire
IN THE SHADOW OF THE SPIRE

SESSION 20D: THE TALK OF THE TOWN

April 27th, 2008
The 8th Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

GATHERING AT THE GHOSTLY MINSTREL

When they had gotten some distance away from the cathedral, Tee asked Dominic whether he thought they ought to tell Mand Scheben about what was happening. “Even if he can’t advise us, I think he should at least hear it from us.”

Dominic agreed and they headed over to the Temple of Asche. Unfortunately, Mand Scheben wasn’t there. They made plans to come back the next day. They also tried to meet with Lord Zavere, but he was also out (Kadmus told them that he had gone out with Lord Abbercombe and was not expected back until the next morning).

Stymied (at least for the moment), they returned to the Ghostly Minstrel in time to meet the rest of the group for dinner.

Tee and Dominic gave a brief, but complete, overview of what had happened with the Silver Fatar. Dominic also told them that he had decided to simply not show up at the Temple of the Clockwork God the next day. He still wasn’t sure what Maeda wanted, but he didn’t feel safe about it.

With that decision made, Elestra began telling them everything she had learned that day about Pythoness House; the second Flayed Man killing; and – most exciting of all – the fact that their names were being mentioned all over town as a result of Shilukar’s capture!

“It’s being talked about all over town?” Tee said.

“Yes!” Elestra said.

Tee’s face went white. She pushed her chair back and stood up quickly. “Excuse me. I have to go.”

She ran out of the Ghostly Minstrel, leaving the others to look after her and exchange puzzled frowns. (more…)

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