IN THE SHADOW OF THE SPIRE

Session 10D: Clan of the Torn Ear

I suspect that there will be a number of posts in this series that end up being basically variations on, “Look how cool prepping situations instead of plots is!”

But that’s because it’s really frickin’ cool.

Let’s talk a little about how this scenario came into existence, because it’s a confluence of several different factors that went into building the In the Shadow of the Spire campaign.

First, of course, was a desire to run a campaign in Ptolus, which I’ve discussed before. Among the raw material Monte Cook designed for Ptolus were a half dozen scenarios in the Ptolus supplement designed to kick-off a Ptolus campaign.

One of these was “The Trouble With Goblins”, which you can more or less see play out in Session 5 of the campaign: Goblins emerge from the catacombs beneath the city and take up residence in an abandoned house in the Rivergate District. In the scenario as written, the players can trace the goblins back to Ghul’s Labyrinth, but there’s nothing to find down there: “The passages literally go as far as you want them to – and as far as the adventurers are willing to take them. They wind through ancient chambers empty except for more and more zombie encounters. There is no treasure to find.” The intention is that the zombies will eventually drive the PCs back to the surface (through boredom if nothing else).

I’ve never been comfortable with “there’s an endless array of empty corridors down there, so eventually you turn back” set-ups because, basically, I’ve never figured out how to run them successfully (by which I mean, in a way which is satisfying for both me and the players). So I decided to take a different approach: The goblins came from somewhere, and they could be tracked back there.

I decided that the “somewhere” in this case would be an impassable bluesteel door. (This would allow me to introduce one of the major features of Ghul’s Labyrinth.) Rather than just placing a bluesteel door, though, I created the mini-scenario The Complex of Zombies: The idea was that the PCs would be “rewarded” for tracking the goblins with a little horror scenario, find the bluesteel door, and be able to satisfactorily conclude this line of investigation.

As previously discussed, however, things didn’t quite work out like that: The PCs managed to do something incredibly clever and get the bluesteel door open.

Although I ended up adding a whole new scenario on the opposite side of the bluesteel door, I now had a situation where the PCs would logically be able to track the goblins back to their “home”… wherever and whatever that was.

The goblin shook his head. “He was not of our clan. He was traitor. Come. Look.” Holding the runty goblin’s corpse by the head like a rag doll, he bent it forward to present the neck.

Puzzled, Tee came closer. On the back of the goblin’s neck she saw four small tendrils of greenish ooze – they were still wriggling and writhing.

The other major factor was that, before the campaign began, I had done a survey of about 40-50 issues of Dungeon Magazine looking for interesting scenarios that would be appropriate for Ptolus. One of the scenarios I had really liked but ultimately ended up not finding a place for was “Caverns of the Ooze Lord” by Campbell Pentney in Dungeon #132. Now I pulled it back out.

The original module features a small village that’s been infested by mind-controlling ooze parasites, and the PCs are able to track the problem back to a local cave complex. I said to myself: What if the infested “village” is actually a clan of goblins? And the goblins had come to Greyson House because they were fleeing the ooze?

THE SITUATION

So I basically ripped out the entire front half of Pentney’s module, heavily modified the caverns in the back half to fit the new back story, and inserted a freshly designed set of goblin caverns. I summarized the situation and background like this:

• 40 years ago an earthquake struck this area. It opened the fissure leading to the Laboratory of the Beast (Adventure 003B); collapsed the tunnels which once led in that direction; and also opened the fissure leading to the Temple of Juiblex.
  • Juiblex the Shapeless is one of the Galchutt.
• The connection to the Temple of Juiblex contaminated the caverns and disrupted the local balance, leading to the emergence of sickstone. The goblins were eventually forced to abandon the sickstone caverns.
• An expedition was mounted to the Laboratory of the Beast, but it ran into the adamantium guulvorg skeleton, suffered heavy casualties, and retreated. The complex, along with the legendary “surface world”, was forbidden to the tribe by their leaders.
• 2 years ago the warcaster Morbion journeyed into the sickstone caverns. He found the Temple of Juiblex and was corrupted.
• 3 months ago, the goblins became aware that something was wrong: Goblins were disappearing. Eventually they figured out the “oozed ones” were controlling some of them and kidnapping or killing others. Their efforts to combat this threat have failed.
• 2 months ago, a small group of goblins fled through the Laboratory of the Beast and reached Greyson House.
• Currently Ursaal and the duskblades, along with 8 of the lesser warriors and one of the greater warriors, have been corrupted by Morbion.

(Tangentially, I knew that the Galchutt referenced here would play a major role in Act II of the campaign. I find that when designing unanticipated interstitial material in a campaign it’s useful – and also logical! – to find opportunity to reincorporate and foreshadow other elements from the campaign. You can see a similar methodology in the Obelisk of Axum and Severn Valley scenarios that I added to the Eternal Lies campaign as a result of actual play.)

EMERGENT EVENTS

In designing this scenario, my assumption was that the PCs would actually fight their way through the goblins – slowly gathering environmental clues about the presence of the “oozed ones” – and then fight their way through the ooze caverns. Kind of a standard “kill all the goblins” dungeoncrawl that would slowly morph into a horror scenario.

But as you can see in this week’s journal entry, that’s not what happened: The PCs ended up negotiating with the goblins and the entire scenario literally turned on a dime and became something completely different. And that’s what makes prepping situations so cool: Not only do you have the joy of being constantly surprised by what happens at the gaming table, but something like two hundred words of situational prep can suddenly blossom into entire sessions of compelling play.

The character of Itarek is one example of this: Found nowhere in my prep notes, he emerged logically out of the adversary roster I had created for the scenario, and (as you’ll see) quickly became one of the most unforgettable supporting cast members in the campaign.

“I will take you to our Queen. She will decide.”

Tee laughed. “You expect us to just walk into the middle of your caves?”

“You were going there anyway. And I give oath of safety.”

The “oath of safety” is a key emergent moment: If Tee hadn’t laughed off Itarek’s initial offer to take them to the queen, he never would have given them an oath of safety (and the subsequent scene would have played out completely differently).

Note, too, the roleplaying with Tor that emerges out of this completely unanticipated sequence of events. In the Shadow of the Spire benefits tremendously from players who are willing to make bold, strong choices.

I’ve said in the past that I think a lot of games suffer because of two unexamined paradigms or meta-rules:

1. The PCs are not allowed to fight each other.
2. PCs are not allowed to split up or leave the group.

The belief is that this prevents friction and disruptive play, but in my experience it actually creates those things. The moments between Tee and Tor that emerged during this session are an example of what can happen when you remove these artificial limitations: Tor being willing to leave the party because of his principles forced the group to resolve the situation in a way which created an even greater bond going forward.

And I firmly believe that interaction was only possible because it was, in fact, a real possibility that Tor would leave forever. (At which point we would have figured out a new character for Tor’s player.)

In much the same way that the enduring relationship between the party and Crashekka and Itarek only exists because it was equally possible that the party could have just stabbed them without ever learning their names.

Prepping situations is so frickin’ cool.

IN THE SHADOW OF THE SPIRE

SESSION 10D: CLAN OF THE TORN EAR

November 3rd, 2007
The 30th Day of Amseyl in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

THE GOBLIN CAVERNS

Looking down into the fissure, Tee saw that it opened out into a natural – and very narrow – chain of caves. But there was definitely room enough for all of them to pass through and see where those caves might lead.

Tor volunteered to stay behind and stand guard in the chamber with the blood-stained pit. The rest of the group agreed to explore the caves for about ten minutes – if they didn’t find anything interesting, they’d turn back.

After climbing twenty feet down the steeply angled fissure, the caves beyond it proved remarkably easy to navigate. Although they were narrow enough that Agnarr’s shoulders occasionally scraped the walls, the floor was almost entirely free of obstruction. They made good time, and after five minutes they had already covered several hundred feet at a brisk walking pace. The cave floor had begun to descend at a shallow, but noticeable, angle.

About seven minutes after they had left Tor, the rest of the group came to an area where the narrow cave tunnel suddenly opened out onto a large side-cavern choked full of stalagtites and stalagmites.

Tee was in the lead, and as she emerged into this side-cavern a deep, guttural voice spoke loudly in Goblin: “Come no farther!” A large, broad-shouldered goblin stood up from behind some of the stalagmites. “These are the caverns of my people. What is your purpose here?”

Tee was surprised to discover that she understood what he was saying… the words just seemed to fall into place in her mind. But she had never spoken the Goblin tongue before.

The others couldn’t understand a word as Tee said, “We’re explorers.”

“Wanderers? From the surface world?”

“Yes.”

The goblin shook his head. “Go back. We do not want you here.”

Tee quickly translated the situation back to her compansion.

“There are more of you here?” the goblin demanded.

Tee confirmed it.

“Go now!” Tee wasn’t sure if the goblin was angry or if it was just the guttural tones of the language.

“All right,” Tee said. “We’ll go.”

But as she turned, another goblin – this one shorter and runtier – suddenly jumped up from behind another patch of stalagmites and fired a crude arrow at her. It went wide, but Tee’s reaction was immediate: She drew her dragon pistol and fired. (more…)

IN THE SHADOW OF THE SPIRE

Session 10C: Back to the Labyrinths

Opening the box of cherry wood they found a manuscript entitled Observations of Alchemical Reductions and the Deductions Thereof by Master Alchemist Tirnet Kal. The book seemed untouched by age, and Ranthir was immediately enthralled – this had once been a well-known alchemical text, but the last copy of it was thought to have been lost several centuries ago.

Treasure is something I left under-utilized in my games for years: Looting X number of gold pieces and maybe some magic items was simply de rigueur. And, honestly, the psychological pleasure of an escalating numerical value (particularly as it counts its way towards the anticipated acquisition which it makes possible) shouldn’t be undervalued.

But as I mentioned in Getting the Players to Care the Golden Rule of Gaming is that players pay attention when you describe treasure. So if the only thing you’re offering to that undivided attention is generic numbers, you are wasting a golden opportunity.

(I may be gilding the lily here with all these gold puns.)

What you want to do is create treasure which contains meaning; which has specific, creative content. The Observations of the Alchemical Reductions and the Deductions Thereof are one example of that. (Saying that there are “rare books” worth X number of gold pieces is more interesting than simply a sack of gold; specifically listing what these books are is more interesting yet.)

At its most basic level, such treasure increases the player’s immersion and interaction with the game world. But you can use this to additional effect:

• As with the Observations, such treasure can reward character skill (or player insight) by making the treasure more valuable than it first appears. This creates an additional layer of arguably more meaningful reward.
• As described in Getting the Players to Care, treasure can be used to package exposition into an attractive and memorable package for the players.

Simply providing intriguing chaff – little bits of random “cool” that have no purpose or intended greater meaning, like Tolkien’s reference to the cats of Queen Berúthiel – are nonetheless valuable because they provide texture to the improvisational texture of the game world. You can never be entirely sure what uses your players will find for items similar to my 101 Curious Items, or how they’ll combine with other elements of the campaign to create memorable events.

But then Ranthir raised the possibility that they might find a way of transporting the entire orrery to the surface and selling it intact.

The orrery that the PCs also discovered in this section of Ghul’s Labyrinth is an example of this: You’ll see a whole sequence of events spill out over the next few campaign journals which I had no way of anticipating when I created the orrery as a form of nifty and evocative treasure.

The orrery also shows how the context you add to treasure can be used to create obstacles and interesting challenges for the PCs to overcome. One of the most basic ways you can do this – as exemplified by the orrery – is to make the treasure weighty, bulky, or otherwise difficult to transport. Successfully getting the treasure home now becomes part of the challenge. (In the case of the orrery, this took the form of Ranthir’s player eventually coming up with the very clever idea of selling the location of the rarity and letting the buyer of that valuable information deal with the difficulties of transporting it.)

Personalizing this sort of treasure can also be effective. In another D&D campaign, there was a player whose character spent the first ten or so levels stripping dungeons and enemy lairs of interesting pieces of furniture, art, and other accoutrements in order to furnish the fortress-temple he wanted to one day build for his elemental goddess. You can be sure that these features received extra care and attention from me for the duration of that campaign.

Doing so revealed a large room filed with cages of wrought iron. Tee saw that there were age-yellowed skeletons lying in dusty heaps within several of them.

You can also make the creatures the PCs fight a form of treasure in themselves. Pelts, furs, and other animal products have possessed great value throughout history. In the case of this particular session, the creatures were long dead, but there’s no reason the PCs can’t harvest from their own kills.

In setting this up, however, you want to be careful: If you make a particular animal’s carcass too valuable, you will curtail your ability to use that creature ubiquitously.

This can also become an interesting way of complicating combat: You may not be able to fricassee the golden wombat with a fireball if you want to be able to sell its fur, which will limit the tactics you can effectively use while fighting them. (The old school rules for subduing dragons have a similar dynamic.)

IN THE SHADOW OF THE SPIRE

SESSION 10C: BACK TO THE LABYRINTHS

November 3rd, 2007
The 30th Day of Amseyl in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

THE BLOODY ORRERY

The next morning, at breakfast, Cardalian came over to their table. She received a rather frosty reception from all of them as she introduced herself to “their new friend”, Tor. She invited them to attend the funeral of Devaral Unissa at the Cathedral of Athor on the 1^st of Kadal and then headed back to her own table.

They shrugged her off and headed back up towards the North Market and Greyson House.

There was still one mystery left in the outer area of the complex: The room with the orrery. Something in that room – or adjacent to that room – was inflicting them with the bloodsheen.

Ranthir had specifically prepared spells to get to the root of this mystery. Working his incantations he carefully circled through the room, trying to ignore the thin sheen of blood springing up across his body. “I am certain,” he said at last, “That one of bloodwights lies within the orrery. I think—“

At that moment, the glistening pink form of a fully regenerated bloodwight smashed its way through the wooden panels around the base of the orrery. Ranthir’s momentary outrage at seeing the ancient orrery damaged was quickly replaced by concern as he realized that the creature had effectively cut him off from the room’s exit… and the blood was pouring ever faster from his pores.

Tor and Agnarr rushed into the room, gladly braving the bloodsheen in order to come to their companion’s aid. Tee kept her distance, but drew her dragon pistol, carefully choosing her shots to blast hunks from the bloodwight’s undead flesh.

It was short and bloody work, but at last it was done. Agnarr grinned. “Well, I think that’s finally the last of them. So…”

Ranthir was lying unconscious in a pool of his own blood.

“Dominic!”

The priest came rushing in from the outer room. Fortunately, Ranthir – although faint from the shocking loss of blood – was not physically harmed. With the strength of Athor flowing into his flesh, the wizard and scholar was soon back on his feet.

His attention turned almost immediately to the orrery, which he had not previously been able to devote proper attention to. After years of neglect it was in very poor condition and utterly inoperable, but after careful study and the taking of many notes, Ranthir was able to reconstruct its basic principles.

He was intrigued to discover that the motions of the heavenly bodies it tracked were not accurate to a modern understanding – there were several minor inconsistencies reflective of a much older cosmological theory. But, even more fascinating, the orrery featured no less than seventeen heavenly bodies which were completely unknown to modern observation. What had the makers of the orrery been thinking? What did those bodies represent? Had they, in fact, existed at some point in the distant past?

Tee, meanwhile, was inspecting the orrery with a more practical eye. She confirmed that the bloodwight had, in fact, been resting within a secret compartment of sorts within the base of the orrery – it had probably once been used for maintenance. But she also discovered that the seventeen spheres representing the unknown heavenly bodies were not made of brass like the other spheres in the orrery, but were instead forged form pure silver and worth a small fortune (at least 425 gp).

Tee began looking for ways to break off these silver spheres, but then Ranthir raised the possibility that they might find a way of transporting the entire orrery to the surface and selling it intact. This seemed a daunting task – the orrery must have weighed at least 14,000 pounds – but Ranthir suspected it could be worth as much as 12,000 gp.

After much debate, it was decided that they would leave the orrery for now. Tee was skeptical that they could move it (even if they followed Ranthir’s suggestion of hiring workers to perform the necessary excavations) – there was, after all, the pit of chaos in the way. But there was also the possibility that Lord Zavere of Castle Shard would be interested in it – perhaps they could sell the mere knowledge of the orrery and allow the buyer to extract it for themselves.

With these thoughts in mind they moved through the deserted corridors that had been expurgated of the bloodwight plague and passed through the doors of bluesteel… (more…)

IN THE SHADOW OF THE SPIRE

Session 10B: Retreat to the Surface

Ranthir began marking their path back to the entrance with chalk marks. He also took out pen, ink, and parchment and began drawing an ornate, beautiful, and highly detailed map of their explorations.

Any character, regardless of medium, can be interpreted as a collection of specific traits: They’re brave. Tall. Conflicted. In love. Impatient. Educated. Handsome. Et cetera.

It’s also not particularly revelatory that, in a roleplaying game, the traits of a character will often by mechanically defined: It’s not just that a character is “smart”, that intelligence is given a number and the effects of that intelligence will manifest through the mechanics of the game.

(Of course not all of the traits of an RPG character will be mechanically defined. And even those that are will often – or should often – manifest themselves in non-mechanical ways: Being “smart”, for example, should have impacts on many actions that are not resolved through mechanics.)

It’s perhaps most typical for a character’s mechanical traits to be designed: The player wants Ranthir to be smart, so they assign a high score to Ranthir’s intelligence. They want Ranthir to be trained in the arcane arts, so they assign skill points to his Spellcraft skill.

By contrast, what I often find interesting are the traits which unexpectedly emerge from the mechanics.

For example, Ranthir’s player thought it would be appropriate for the character to be skilled in calligraphy, so he put some points into Craft (calligraphy). When Ranthir began mapping a dungeon during play and the player decided to make a Craft (calligraphy) check to see how attractive the resulting map was, what was unanticipated was the high die roll would cause the other characters to remark on the map. And, more importantly, that high check resulted in Ranthir’s beautiful maps (and his peculiar obsession with the accuracy of those maps) becoming a recurring theme of the campaign and a memorable trait of the character.

Dominic, meanwhile, was wandering the city and trying to get his bearings. (But, for some reason, he kept finding himself back at Delver’s Square…)

Of course, success is not the only way such traits can emerge. Dominic’s poor sense of direction, for example, was not something that was specifically designed. In terms of mechanical definition, in fact, the character wasn’t particularly stupid or anything. But a pattern of poor rolls on very specific types of checks (across multiple skills, actually) caused this element of the character to emerge, at which point the player (and the rest of the group) took it and ran with it.

This would notably lead, at one point, to a skill check where Dominic succeeded and knew which way they needed to go… except none of the other characters believed him, because of his notoriously poor sense of direction.

Obviously any trait can be improvised into existence as one explores their character through play. But I think these emergent traits – aspects of the character which would not exist without the mechanical impulse – are a particularly fascinating part of what happens at the table during a roleplaying game. They’re a great example of the sense of discovery which is one of the primary attractions of the medium for me. They’re also exemplary of the fact that the division that some see between the mechanical component of an RPG and the creative component of an RPG doesn’t really exist: When used correctly, mechanics are an improv seed. They’re the equivalent of an audience member yelling out a random word and pushing you in directions you could never have anticipated or prepared for.