Since my last update, I’ve received about a dozen additional refund e-mails and all of those refunds have now been processed. The only people who should be currently waiting for a refund are those who requested a refund by check. (I’m going to be processing all of those refunds in one big batch.)

This update is primarily just a third and final call: If you are a backer who has not received a refund, it’s because you either haven’t sent me an e-mail or I haven’t received it. If it’s the former, please contact me ASAP at legendsandlabyrinths@gmail.com. If it’s the latter, please leave a comment here and we’ll figure it out (since there seems to be something wrong with our e-mail connection).

Many of you may be thinking to yourself: “I don’t freakin’ care. I wasn’t a backer for Legends & Labyrinths.” Good news! Even if you weren’t a backer, you can download a copy of the Black Book Beta which contains a totally playable version of the rules along with a lot of cool new tools for simplifying your 3.5 or PF game.

Tagline: The Accursed Tower is a fairly solid module, with a handful of potential problems.

R.A. Salvatore is best known for his novels dealing with the drow character Drizzt Do’Urden – one of the finest swordsman in all of literature. There are some who worship these stories; others who revile them. Personally, I find them to be possessed of both significant strengths (such as Salvatore’s outstanding description of fight scenes and some of the soul-searching for Drizzt found in the Dark Elf Trilogy) and significant weaknesses (such as the repetition of some of the plots and several weak characteristics to Salvatore’s writing).

Similarly these novels are set in the Forgotten Realms, a campaign setting which some worship and others revile. As with Salvatore himself, I find the Realms to be possessed of both significant strengths (breadth of the setting, the wealth of detail and support) and significant weaknesses (some ridiculously bad supplements, over saturation, and general silliness).

I therefore approached The Accursed Tower (an adventure for 4-8 characters of level 1-3) with a fairly open mind – Salvatore and his original gaming group (the Seven Swords) “return to the Savage Frontier” of the Ten-Towns in the Icewind Dale. The characters get a chance to explore a well known area of the Realms, while running into some well known characters of the Realms.

THE PLOT

The PCs are in Luskan, the City of Sails, along the Sword Coast (with that (in)famous “it’s up to the DM to determine how” that seems to be present in every D&D adventure I’ve ever read). They sign up to guard a merchant caravan which is going to the Icewind Dales. When they get there the caravan owner reveals that he has an opportunity for them to earn a great deal more money if they help him out with something.

It turns out that the caravan dealer is searching for a ruined tower where a mage died while researching a healing salve with the potential to help a great many people. If the PCs help him get the notes from that research, they will not only be helping in his humanitarian quest – but will also share in a significant portion of any recovered treasure.

The PCs track down the location of the tower with the help of a few familiar faces – Regis and Drizzt from Salvatore’s books – and then go off to obtain the diary. They do so. End of story.

Except, that’s not all that’s going on. The caravan driver isn’t actually a humanitarian — he’s an evil mage who has killed the actual caravan driver and taken his place. The research he’s after isn’t for any healing salve – it’s for becoming an immortal lich.

It’s time to insert the dramatic music.

THE GOOD STUFF

The set-up is intriguing and provides a solid base for the adventure. Salvatore and his gaming group construct a complex plot with several different hidden agendas and machinations going on behind the scenes – wheels within wheels is the order of the day. First, you’ve got the dual nature of the NPC who hires the PCs. Plus, one of the people the PCs get to help them out is actually an ancient barbarian sorceror, who once fought against the evil mage who owned the Accursed Tower and was responsible for his downfall.

The adventure is also blessed with some remarkably strong NPCs. Drizzt and Regis, of course, get an extra boost thanks to their literary background, but there are several others – including the father-son team from the caravan who befriend the PCs, the barbarian sorceror, and several others.

I was also impressed with a number of hooks which were left open for future expansion at the DM’s discretion – such as a scroll the PCs find half-buried in a snowdrift, with no ready explanation as to how it got there or why.

Finally, the entire package is strong one. As per usual for a TSR book the production values are high, the art is of decent quality, the book has been thoroughly proofread, and the lay-out is clear.

THE BAD STUFF

First, there’s no excuse for recycled art in a 32 page book – even if you are just filling up the quarter page of blank space left on that second-to-last page. This is particularly true if you’re TSR. They’ve published hundreds of books. Surely there was a piece of art from some other book they could have recycled instead of copying the art from page 17.

Second, the book suffers from that perennial Realms problem: Silly names. Maybe some people don’t have problems with names like “Peddywinkle” in their fantasy campaigns, but I do.

Third, random encounters are not a substitute for meaningful plotting. Although the first part of this adventure deals with a caravan trip, absolutely nothing happens on that caravan trip of any significance. The only planned event is a goblin encampment, and that only happens if the PCs follow a specific set of tracks. Everything else is a random encounter. I wasn’t too impressed with this – you could just as easily have said “the PCs are in the Icewind Dales” instead of “the PCs are in Luskan”.

Fourth, the “healing salve” cover for the archmage’s true intentions was a little annoying. It is described as “healing any wound and curing any disease”, and the guy goes on to say how he wants to “make this salve known to all, so that the world would be free of sickness”. Yeah, right. Did the Realms suddenly become devoid of healing potions?

Fifth, the map on the inside front cover is of the caravan route. Along this route are numbers. What these numbers are supposed to be is never mentioned, but you can interpolate and figure out that these represent how far the caravan gets on each day of the journey. This has relatively little importance (after all, it is a set path), especially considering the complete unimportance of the caravan drive to the overall adventure in general. The book would have been better served with a map of the Icewind Dales, where the PCs have to trek all over the place to figure out the location of the tower.

Finally, the early part of the adventure is fairly railroaded (except for those sections where nothing of importance is happening). The last part of the adventure, where the PCs have reached the tower, is nothing more than a standard event-by-location dungeon.

CONCLUSION

The primary appeal to The Accursed Tower is going to be for those familiar with Salvatore’s writing. The basic plot and elements of the adventure are nothing to get excited about (and are, in fact, possessed of several drawbacks) – but this can be mitigated when the PCs run into characters well known to them from their favorite books. It’s the same kind of rush you got from the line, “Anakin Skywalker… meet Obi-Wan Kenobi.” Or from those Howard stories where you’re following some unfamiliar character and suddenly they run into Conan.

So, The Accursed Tower gets an average rating overall. Those with an interest in Salvatore’s writing might want to pick it up; those with an undying hatred of Salvatore, Drizzt, or the Realms should avoid it at all costs.

Style: 3
Substance: 3

Author: R.A. Salvatore and the Seven Swords (Mike Leger, Brian Newton, Tom Parker, David Salvatore, Gary Salvatore, and Jim Underdown)
Company/Publisher: Corsair Publishing, LLC and Sovereign Press, Inc.
Cost: $25.00
Page Count: 168
ISBN: 0-9658422-3-1

Originally Posted: 1999/08/16

I honestly have no idea what my problem with the name “Peddywinkle” was.

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

Essentially every character in Eclipse Phase has a personal muse: An AI that serves as their companion and personal assistant from the time that they’re a young child until the day that they die. Their persistent presence and collaboration in every facet of a person’s life is one of the transformative elements of the Eclipse Phase setting which creates the unique exotic flavor its science fiction.

As I mentioned when I posted my Eclipse Phase system cheat sheet a few days ago, however, it initially proved difficult for players to properly utilize their muses as an integral part of their lives. Literally front-paging the muses helped, but something I also started experimenting with was the idea of letting another player run the muse. Thus everyone at the table would control both their PC and the muse of another character.

The recent Eclipse Phase: Transhuman sourcebook makes a similar suggestion. There are multiple advantages: First, it forces the roleplaying relationship between the PC and their muse into the open. Second, it encourages the muse to have its own independent personality. Third, it can also make it a lot easier to split the party because many or all of the players who aren’t present may still have a muse to play in the scene.

As I mentioned a couple of days ago, however, I’m currently developing an open table Eclipse Phase campaign. Unfortunately, an open table disrupts the idea of having a second player run your muse: Since the players at the table are constantly in flux, there would be no guarantee that the player running your muse would be at your next session.

Loosely inspired by Shock: Social Science Fiction, therefore, I’m going to experiment with the idea that your muse is always played by the player to your left. (Basically a structured troupe-style play in which the muses form the body of communal characters.)

This obviously sustains the advantage of the muse always being portrayed by a separate player. The disadvantage, however, is that there would be a constant flux of different players portraying your personal muse (leading to potential continuity problems). To mitigate these problems, what you need is a quick briefing sheet that would introduce the new player to your muse. This needs to be insightful enough that the essence of your muse is communicated, but focused enough that it can be quickly assimilated at the beginning of the session.

Fortunately, I already have a template like this that I use when designing NPCs for social-intensive scenarios. I’ve tweaked it slightly to customize it for troupe-style muses. I think you might find it useful even if you’re not contemplating this style of play.

When designing your muse, I also recommend checking out “Maximizing Your Muse” in Eclipse Phase: Transhuman (pg. 166-169). There’s a lot of good ideas in there.

MUSE TEMPLATE

Name: Self-explanatory. As limited artificial intelligences, muses have their own identities.

AR Avatar: A description of the muse’s “physical” appearance when it appears in AR (or VR).

Roleplaying: This is the heart of the briefing sheet, but it should also be the shortest section. Two or three brief bullet points at most. You’re looking to identify the essential personality traits or mannerisms which will serve to unlock the muse.

Motivations: Like any other character, muses should have three personal motivations (Eclipse Phase, pg. 138). These may mimic, support, or even contrast the motivations of their owner.

Background: This is likely the only section of the briefing sheet which is likely to need frequent updating. I recommend a single bullet point for each significant scenario the muse participates in (and keeping each bullet point to no more than two or three sentences). The point isn’t to be encyclopedic: It’s to provide an essential overview of key facts. (If the muse’s current player needs clarification about something, they can lean over to their right and ask.)

Notes: A miscellaneous category of key information that wasn’t hit in the previous sections. For example, if the muse is currently holding the encryption keys for an important data store or is hiding the fact that they know what happened to their owner during a span of lost time, this is probably a good place to note it.

Stat Block: Include the muse’s stat block at the bottom of the briefing sheet for easy reference. Most muses will use the standard muse stat block, but they’ll still be customized by selecting three Knowledge skills. Some muses might be commonly housed in a bot (in which, case include that stat block, too); others, of course, may have received custom upgrades.

AURORA – SAMPLE MUSE

AR Avatar: A young girl with yellow hair so bright it seems to glow lemon. She usually has a cigarette drooping out of the corner of her mouth.

Roleplaying:

• Refuses to take any shit from her owner, but is also fiercely protective of her.
• Her owner cannot understand her obsession with celebrity gossip.
• A dry, sardonic laugh that often breaks apart into a fake “smoker’s cough”.

Motivations: +Open Source, +Wealth, -Alien Contact

Background:

• Aurora was originally licensed on the likeness of a child star named Sundrop. Around the time her owner turned 17, “Sundrop” got tired of that identity and started referring to herself as “Aurora”.
• Aurora was actually the one first contacted by Firewall based on a research project she was working on for her owner.
• Aurora’s owner deleted her and restored her from a backup that was three months old. Her owner refuses to explain what happened, which completely infuriates Aurora.

Notes:

• Aurora was infected by a “dormant” strain of the exsurgent virus. It hasn’t had an visible effects yet, but she’s been spending her down time secretly researching a very strange and seemingly random set of topics. (List anything she researches on the back of this sheet, please.)

Aurora: Aptitudes: 10, INT 20. Skills: Academics: Psychology 60, Art: Simulspace Design 30, Hardware: Electronics 60, Infosec 30, Interest: Celebrity Gossip 30, Interface 40, Professional: Accounting 60, Programming 20, Research 30, Perception 30.

When characters want something in the Eclipse Phase universe, they hit up their social networks: PCs will make a Networking test to reach out through their friends, associates, and the sophisticated software that binds society together in the year 10 AF. And if they find someone who can help them, they’ll ask for help based on the reputation they’ve built for themselves.

In short, they’ll call in a favor.

But if the PCs are constantly reaching out to other people, doesn’t it make sense that people would also be reaching out to them? They’re skilled, well-connected, and possibly even well-known. Just the sort of people you’d want to ask a favor from.

The system presented here is a tool I’ve designed for an open table Eclipse Phase campaign I’m currently developing, but it should prove useful for almost any Eclipse Phase GM. The idea is to create unexpected complications (and synergies) by having the social networks of the PCs organically interrupt their lives.

RANDOM REPUTATION FAVORS

Rep Network Check: Each PC has a 2 in 10 chance of being contacted for a favor each session.

The GM should make this check at the beginning of each session and note which PCs will be receiving a request. These requests won’t necessarily happen immediately: The GM should decide during the course of the session when the call comes.

Optional Rule: If the initial rep network check indicates that a PC will be contacted for a favor, immediately roll another check to see if they’ll be contacted for a second favor. Continue rolling until they actually fail a check.

GENERATING THE FAVOR

1. Determine Reputation Network. Randomly determine which of the character’s reputation networks is making the request.

2. Determine Solicitor. Determine who’s requesting the favor by rolling on the Solicitor table. Note that this can be an opportunity to develop the PC’s personal life for play. For example, if the table indicates that the request is coming from a friend that doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s a friend who has been part of the campaign before.

3. Determine Favor Level. Determine the level of the favor being requested by rolling on the Favor Level table.

4. Determine Type of Favor. Roll on the Type of Favor table to determine the type of favor being requested. The exact nature of the favor is heavily dependent on the particular circumstances of the character and the campaign; the table is merely designed to provide a general idea that can help serve as a creative seed for the GM. Reference the favors tables on pages 289-290 of the Eclipse Phase rulebook to determine the scope of the favor being requested (based on the level of the favor).

Information: This can either be information that the character already knows or information that they are capable of finding out. (It could also be information that someone just thinks they know or can find out.)

Introduction: The solicitor would like the PC to introduce them to someone they know. At trivial levels, this is the digital equivalent of passing business cards. At higher favor levels, a physical meeting is likely (and, obviously, the person they want to be introduced to will be of some importance). If the PC agrees to make the introductions, don’t be afraid to let the consequences splash back on them. (“What the hell did you get me into?”)

Skill: Somebody would like the PCs to use their unique skills. You can randomly determine which of their skills is desired or simply choose one. Obviously this can range from the benign (“can you prepare a précis on the most recent discoveries in xenoarchaeology?”) to the criminal (“I need you to rescue my sister who’s indentured in a brothel”). Make sure to take note of the terms of service listed on the Acquire Services table (EP, pg. 290) – this favor could actually be a long-term job offer.

Delivery/Pick-Up: At low favor levels, this is most likely going to be a matter of convenience. For example, the PC happens to be standing outside a Coffee Star franchise and somebody a couple blocks away wants a latte. At higher levels, it becomes increasingly likely that the pick-up or delivery requires some special skill the PC possesses.

Transportation: Similar to the delivery, except in this case it’s someone needing to be delivered themselves. If the PC doesn’t have access to a vehicle, then it might be someone looking to hitch a ride in their ghost rider module. Or asking them to deliver a portable server filled with enslaved infomorphs.

Use of an Item: The PC has something somebody would like to borrow for a bit. They’ll give it right back. (Honest.) At trivial levels this is again likely to be a matter of convenience. (“Hey, I’m just across the plaza. The local spime spotted that you had a utilitool. Could I grab that really quick to fix my glide sneakers?”) At higher levels, it’ll be something expensive or the use of which the PC might need to supervise.

Buying an Item: The PC has an item that the solicitor would very much like to purchase. Pretty straightforward.

Selling an Item: The solicitor has something that he thinks the PC might be interested in. Wait… why does he think the PC is the sort of person who needs large amounts of explosives?

Borrow Money: 50 credits for a trivial favor; 250 credits for a low favor; 1,000 credits for a moderate favor; 5,000 credits for a high favor; and 20,000 credits for a scarce favor.

REWARDS AND PENALTIES

Cyberpunk Alley Pub – Brosa

If a character refuses to do a favor, there is a 10% chance that they’ll suffer 1-2 points of reputation loss. (Feel free to modify this chance depending on exactly how the PC handles the interaction: If they’re a real prick, their reputation is more likely to take a ding. If they apologize for being too busy at the moment and recommend someone who might be able to help, they might even gain a rep point. But, in general, most people don’t feel entitled to assistance and won’t ding someone for a simple refusal.)

Characters who fulfill a favor, however, will be rewarded with a reputation gain. Of course, characters who say they’ll do something and then fail to carry through on their promise are going to get hit with a reputation loss. See page 385 of the Eclipse Phase core rulebook for more information.

Go to Part 1

IN MEDIAS RES

Framing a scene in medias res is to start things in the middle of the action. It’s an effective technique because it jump-starts the scene at its most exciting or interesting part. In other mediums it also intrigues the audience by creating a mini-mystery: How did the characters find themselves in this precarious situation?

This element of mystery in the in medias res becomes problematic in an RPG, however: While it’s all right for an audience to remain ignorant of how the characters found themselves in their current circumstances, that can create significant issues when the players are supposed to be the characters and need to know what they know so that they can make coherent decisions.

Let’s lay the mini-mystery aside for a moment, therefore, and focus on a more basic form of in medias res that I highly recommend regardless of your predilections: Framing past the entrance.

GMs tend to frame to the arrival: If the PCs are heading to a warehouse, the GM will cut to their car pulling up outside the warehouse. If they’re going to question a suspect, the GM will cut to them knocking on the suspect’s door. It’s a safe choice, but it’s frequently unnecessary. For example, if you know that the PCs are going to Boss Man’s office to search for clues, you don’t have to go through the laborious process of having them enter the office building, pick the lock on his door, and so forth. Instead, you can cut straight to them rifling through his filing cabinets and pulling out the incriminating documents.

This works because the assumptions you’re making in framing the scene are obvious: You’re assuming that the PCs are, in fact, going to do what they said they were going to do. And you’re assuming that they will be successful in doing it. (If the latter is in doubt, of course, you’d call for an action check and then frame accordingly. For example, if the PCs fail an infiltration check then you might frame to the moment where the flashlight of a security guard flashes across them.)

ADVANCED IN MEDIAS RES

More dramatic examples of in medias res are common in other mediums, but relatively difficult to pull off in an RPG without railroading. But it can be very rewarding if you can make it work.

In my experience, that requires a high degree of trust and understanding between the GM and the players: The GM needs to know his players and their characters well enough that he can accurately predict their reactions. And then the players need to have enough trust in the GM to believe that he has made an accurate prediction.

However, there are also ways that the GM can “cheat” in order to achieve satisfactory in medias res scene openings. A basic method is, “Why are you here?” The GM opens the scene by saying something like, “You’re in a dark tunnel underneath the Parker Corporation’s headquarters. Why are you here?”

This technique basically says, “Yup, we’re railroading to this point. But I’m going to mitigate it by giving you some influence over exactly what model the locomotive is going to be.” Obviously that’s a lot heavier handed than a lot of people are going to be comfortable with. (It’s way out of my personal comfort zone.) But if it works for you and yours, the pay-off is that you can get away with much harder frames and much tighter pacing.

Another “cheat” is to use the in medias res in combination with a flashback: You show the PCs mired in a situation and then use a flashback to establish how they got there. The “future” knowledge of where they end up obviously constrains choice, but once again you’re mitigating the heavy hand you’re applying by allowing the players to influence (or even define) the path that leads to the events they’ve seen. (And there can be a fine art in portraying something compelling in your flashforward which is not particularly binding in its content.)

EPILOGUE SCENE

An epilogue scene is a specific type of color scene which immediately follows a major conflict or bang. During the epilogue scene, the characters are able to reflect and react to the things that just happened to them.

The purpose of the epilogue is both aesthetic and practical. (And it’s practical in both the game world and the metagame.) Aesthetically it provides a natural formula for effectively varying the pacing of your game: Moments of high tension and exciting action are contrasted against the relative calm of the epilogue which puts those moments into a larger context of progress or setback or revelation.

In the context of the metagame, an epilogue scene is practical because it often comes at a moment when the players and/or GM need to take stock: Damage needs to be healed. Resources need to be tallied. Notes need to be consulted. If your group can develop the ability to roleplay effectively through these moments of mechanical bookkeeping it can greatly enhance your game sessions. (Note that the roleplaying does not necessarily need to be about the mechanical bookkeeping that’s happening: It’s possible to say “we heal everybody up” and then handle the mechanics of that while actually roleplaying a later scene in which the PCs are discussing their options for raiding the palace.)

Meanwhile, in the context of the game world, it’s perfectly natural for people to kick back, relax, and take a moment to recover from a stressful situation. Or to sit down and try to talk their way through earth-shaking revelations. (“Dude, you’ve gotta bring me some beer. Betty just broke up with me. Also, I think she’s been possessed by a demon.”)

In practice, these scenes will often happen quite naturally if you give the PCs a bit of rope. If you’re using harder scene framing, however, you really shouldn’t neglect them.

An effective technique for this sort of thing is to establish common “set pieces” for epilogue scenes. For example, in my Ptolus campaign these scenes often happen in their rooms at the Ghostly Minstrel, during a carriage ride across the city, or while they’re looting the bodies of the dead and tending their wounded. We’ve established these as common themes in the campaign and when they show up the group has naturally developed a habit of falling into an epilogue scene.

DISRUPTIVE PACING

In Buffy the Vampire Slayer, epilogue scenes often happened at the school library or (in later seasons) at the Magic Box. But Buffy is also a great example of how you can use a set piece for epilogue scenes and then shift it by occasionally dropping a conflict into the location. This is a basic example of disruptive pacing.

The pacing of a book or movie often falls into a repetitive pattern. The same is true of an RPG. This regular rhythm can be very satisfying in its familiarity (particularly when it feels like the whole group is suddenly on the same page and participating in the ineffable synergy of an instinctive collaboration), but it can also easily become stupefying or stale in its predictability. To avoid that, you need to occasionally disrupt the familiar pacing by throwing in something unexpected: A scene that should be color suddenly erupts into conflict. A sequence that feels as if it’s winding down is abruptly escalated with a fresh bang.

What’s interesting about disruptive pacing is that it can easily degrade back into the expected. For example, the first time a supposedly dead monster suddenly reappeared during what was supposed to be the epilogue of the film it was wildly successful disruptive pacing. Now, however, it’s become part of the expected pacing for a horror film: You’re more shocked when the slasher villain stays dead than you are when he suddenly pops back to his feet.

CONCLUSION

I really can’t emphasize enough the degree to which we’ve barely even begun to scratch the surface of RPG pacing in this essay.

On the other hand, that may be for the best: While film, for example, has certainly benefited from a richer understanding of how pacing can be used in the filmmaker’s toolkit, the process of effectively pacing a film is still very much an art rather than a science. Similarly, it can be a little too easy to fall down the rabbit hole of one-true-wayism if one tries to develop trite maxims.

Instead, I hope that I’ve managed to convey a handful of useful conceptual tools that you can use in a myriad number of ways to better understand and control the pacing of your own campaigns. How you choose to use those tools is up to you: Experiment with them. Play with them. See what you can discover and what you can improve.

SUPPLEMENTAL READING – THE ART OF PACING
Film Banging: The Avengers
Film Banging: Alien
Film Banging: The Matrix
The Art of Pacing: Prepping Bangs
The Art of Pacing: Running Awesome Scenes
The Art of Pacing: How NOT to Frame a Scene

FURTHER READING
The Art of Rulings
The Art of the Key
Gamemastery 101