DISCUSSING
In the Shadow of the Spire – Session 48A: A Night in the Necropolis

Standing outside the door were a young man with his brown hair pulled back in a ponytail and a lithe woman with black hair down past her shoulders. The young man stretched out his hand, “My name’s Marcus Hunter. We’re looking for Tithenmamiwen. We have business from the Delver’s Guild.”

Agnarr slammed the door in their face and went back to polishing his sword.

I love a good prop.

They’re immersive, riveting, persistent, and just plain fun for the players.

There are all kinds of props, of course, but among the best are interactive ones. There’s just something deeply powerful about the players physically interacting with something that their characters are also physically interacting with.

For similar reasons, although props are great as a vector of information (and that’s certainly the primary function for most of the props I create), it’s fantastic when a prop is something that the characters can actually use. Something they can get proactive with, not just react to.

And this is why I love writing up legal contracts as props.

First, getting them to sign the contract as their characters gives you that awesome immersive hit. (One of my players has the signed copy of the Hunter contract safely stowed amongst their notes.)

But the contract is also a legal instrument. It’s more likely than not that the PCs will be able to use that contract to further their agenda: Protecting themselves from someone trying to take advantage of them, or leveraging the terms of the contract to force the outcome they want.

(Or, alternatively, an NPC using the contract against them. Which is almost as good.)

There’s a really cool supplement for Mothership called Breach of Contract, which is just a full book of tear-out form contracts that you and your players can fill out. For obvious reasons, I’m looking forward to figuring out how to integrate these into my Mothership open table.

If you’re looking to create your own contract handouts, I recommend googling real world contracts — particularly seeking out historical examples if that’s your milieu — and then stripping them down to the bare essentials. Borrow overall structure and key turns of phrase for flavor, but I don’t think it’s necessary to waste a lot of time customizing a 30-page pseudo-legal document, even if that’s technically what should be signed. (Think of producing something closer to a memorandum of understanding, if this bugs you. But, generally speaking, anything longer than a page is probably overkill.)

Don’t be afraid of letting the PCs renegotiate the terms of the contract. That might involve just crossing out and rewriting terms on the physical handout, or you may need to make some digital revisions and print up a new copy. Whatever works.

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

DISCUSSING
In the Shadow of the Spire – Session 47C: Home Suite Home

Several hours into Ranthir’s candlelit researches, something sinister slithered under the door. Ranthir, intent on the strange intricacies of technomancy, noticed it not as it slipped across the room and attached itself to Tee.

Its first touch was so gentle that Tee didn’t even feel it. And when its voracious, lamprey-like mouths fastened onto multiple points along her spine it was too late… it had taken control of her body. As it drained her lifeblood, she twitched violently on the bed.

Ranthir, unfortunately, remained oblivious.

In The Art of Pacing, I talked about bangs, which are the big, explosive moments that launch scenes. Bangs come in a lot of different forms, and they can be prepped and discovered through play in a lot of different ways. One way that I use them is as a timeline of bangs, a list of events in my campaign status document that are going to happen in the PCs’ future. In practice, these bangs aren’t fully formed — “they’re more like bullets waiting to be fired. When the moment arrives, the actual bang will be customized to the circumstances of the PCs.”

The spineseeker which attacks in this session is an example of what these bangs look like in practice. Here’s how it appeared in the campaign status document:

2. TILAXIC ASSASSIN (9/25/790)

• The cultists summon a tilaxic, one of the Elder Brood.
• Tilaxic (Spineseeker, Book of Fiends 2, p. 58)
• Saavia (from NOD1; she has more levels and Pythoness House biocrystal breastplate)

Let’s break this down a bit.

First, this entry is #2 because it appears on a prep sheet titled “Laurea’s Doom.” This sheet contained multiple responses I planned for the cultists to take after they identified Tee as being “Laurea” (who had infiltrated their ranks and attacked the Temple of Deep Chaos, back in sessions 27 and 33, respectively).

I prepped this sheet as I was getting ready for Session 39, and then added the following entries to my master Event List:

9/22/790 (Evening): Chaos cultists identify Tee as being “Laurea.” They attack the Ghostly Minstel. (Laurea’s Doom)

9/25/790: Cultists send Tilaxic Assassin. (Laurea’s Doom)

9/28/790: Arveth uses Dais of Vengeance on Tee. (Laurea’s Doom)

These would have been interspersed with a bunch of other upcoming events.

Note the “(Laurea’s Doom)” reference, which reminds me to reference the prep sheet for these events. Not every event is supported by a full prep sheet, only those that require enough that they would clutter up the Event List. In this case, the prep sheet included a stat block for Saavia.

The spineseeker is taken, as noted, from The Book of Fiends, a monster supplement published by Green Ronin. (I’ve talked previously about looting bestiaries for my campaign prep.) I’m fairly certain that I created the “tilaxic” species name.

The reference to the “Pythoness House biocrystal breastplate” is one of the items taken by Wuntad and the other chaos cultists when they ambushed the PCs in Session 23. A good example of how you can take a bunch of different loose threads and tie them all together to set up a new situation.

USING THE BANG

As I mentioned before, the bang is incomplete. It needs to be plugged into the specific context of the game session to turn it into an actual scene.

What I know is that:

• There is a spineseeker, which is being handled by Saavia.
• At some point on the 25^th of Kadal they’re going to try to assassinate Tee.

And that’s basically it. At the time I slotted this bang in to my campaign status document, these events were still days away. I had no idea where the PCs would be or what they’d be doing on that date.

So when the 25^th rolls around, I’m looking at the list of current bangs on my campaign status document — of which this is only one — and I’m keeping my eyes open for any moment during play in which the bangs could be useful to

• escalate the action;
• fill a dead spot;
• logically happen;
• or basically anything else that makes me say “oh! let’s do it!’

There are limitations to this, of course. For example, the spineseeker won’t show up in the Banewarrens because the chaos cultists don’t know about the Banewarrens. So if the PCs, for example, spent the entire day of the 25^th in the Banewarrens, then this bang probably wouldn’t happen. (Although perhaps I might trigger it offscreen and the PCs might return to the Ghostly Minstrel to discover that there have been some strange deaths on the premises in their absence.)

Other bangs might be more restricted in time or place or circumstance (or they might be less so). Regardless, if the right moment arrives, I’ll use the bang (crossing it off on my campaign status document). And if it doesn’t, then that bang goes back in the bandolier (or simply gets deleted if it’s no longer relevant or useful).

In this case, getting ambushed at the Ghostly Minstrel was probably always the most likely use for the bang. But that can still leave a lot of questions that can only be answered in the moment: Who’s asleep? Who’s awake? Where are they? What time is it? And so forth.

So there’s a bunch of variables that can, literally, be in play here. But, in practice, it’s really pretty simple: You look for the moment where the bang makes sense. You combine what you prepped with the given circumstances of what’s happening in the campaign at that moment. You pull the trigger and frame up the scene.

The bang itself often requires very little prep, because the alchemy of the table will supply you with all the rich context you need to bring it to life.

Campaign Journal: Session 48A – Running the Campaign: Contract Handouts
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

DISCUSSING
In the Shadow of the Spire – Session 47B: Children of Mrathrach

Mahdoth rotated towards them. “I’m going to release you now.”

And he did.

The artificial high of ebullient friendship fled from them, but not the memory of what they had experienced.

Mahdoth asked for their assistance in mounting a defense against whatever was coming. “Since I seem to find myself rather short-handed this evening.”

Games like D&D, Numenera, and Shadowrun have bestiaries filled with strange critters. The best of these will be filled with clever and creative lore that will inspire countless adventures and help you bring the creatures to vivid life at the gaming table. But what’s also important is that each creature is a little dollop of mechanical novelty.

It’s one of the ways in which fantastical games can be easier to run than games set strictly in the real world: Once you’ve introduced those fantastical elements, it becomes a lot easier to mechanically distinguish opponents — for a dragon to be different from a beholder which is different from a rust monster which is different than a black pudding. And that mechanical distinction, in turns, helps to keep combat-oriented play varied and fresh.

For this very reason, of course, these bestiaries are primarily designed to give GMs opponents that they can funnel into combat encounters: Take monster. Plug into combat system. Out pops 15 to 45 minutes of fun.

But here’s the secret: The same dollop of mechanical novelty that makes a creature a unique opponent can also mix things up and provide a breath of fresh air for the players. All you need to do is give the PCs an opportunity to fight with monsters at their side, whether that’s

• taming exotic pets,
• recruiting fantastical hirelings,
• forming a temporary alliance with a beholder, or
• having one of the PCs magically transformed into a harpy.

Not every monster, of course, will be appropriate or effective as a constant companion or permanent fixture in the party. (At least, not in every campaign.) But for a single fight or short-term alliance? You can have success with literally any monster, as long as the circumstances are right.

When a monster has joined the party, one option to consider is letting one of the players actually run the monster. (At least during fight scenes, if not otherwise.) It’s another nice twist and really mixes things up for the players. It can also be used to let players who PCs aren’t in the current fight scene still participate.

To make this work smoothly, thought, you need to make sure that the monster’s stat block is (a) in a format you can easily hand over (i.e., a separate sheet or paper or digital handout) and (b) organized in a way that will make the creature easy to pick up and start playing immediately. (It’s surprising how many games feature stat blocks that are opaque and difficult to use. If you’re planning to do this, you may need to, for example, prep a cheat sheet for the monster’s spells or abilities so that the player won’t need to look them up, possibly in books they don’t own.)

Ultimately, variety is the spice of life. And the best way to keep things fresh is often to shuffle these monstrous wonders along so that they don’t become commonplace or standard operating procedure.

The best part, though, is that once your players start thinking of the “monsters” of your campaign setting as a recruitable resource, you won’t have to set up these situations. You’ll just have to follow your players’ lead.

Campaign Journal: Session 47C – Running the Campaign: Inserting Bangs
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

DISCUSSING
In the Shadow of the Spire – Session 47A: The Master of Two Servants

Tee babbled something about a letter and the shipment that Wuntad was delivering to Mahdoth. “And since Wuntad is a bad man, we just assumed that you must be—“

“Who the devil is Wuntad?”

“You don’t know who he is?” Tee, in her charmed state, was honestly befuddled. But those in their right wits were beginning to figure it out.

“Let me see this letter,” Mahdoth demanded.

Tee dug it out of her bag of holding. Mahdoth grabbed it with his telekinetic eyestalk and perused it with half a dozen eyes at once.

“Where is that traitorous halfling?”

When the PCs intercepted plans indicating that Mahdoth’s Asylum was being used to smuggle goods for the chaos cultists, they jumped to a conclusion: Mahdoth must be involved!

The assumption was reinforced by what seemed to be corroborating evidence: Mahdoth had been rude and secretive when they met him previously. More importantly, he was wearing a Pactlords’ ring, and they knew that the Pactlords were bad guys. This, in turn, caused even more conclusions to come spilling out: If Mahdoth was one of the Pactlords and he was helping the chaos cultists, then there must be a connection between the Pactlords and the chaos cultists. Maybe that double agent of the Pactlords they’d found embedded among the chaos cultists of the Old City hadn’t been a double agent after all; or maybe she’d just been scouting out the cultists for a potential alliance!

As we’ve now seen, none of this is actually true: The smuggling at Mahdoth’s was being coordinated by his corrupt staff members and has nothing to do with Mahdoth being a former member of the Pactlords. (Mahdoth is actually completely reformed and no longer has any contact with the Pactlords.)

When the PCs went haring off along this false trail, I remember being gobsmacked. It had not occurred to me that they would jump to the conclusion that Mahdoth was responsible, nor double and triple down on a course of action that would see them going toe-to-toe with a beholder.

(When I talk about not needing to prep red herrings for adventures, this is what I’m talking about.)

I also kept expecting them to course correct. (For example, by questioning Zairic or some of the other cultists involved.) In fact, the players had almost talked themselves out of precipitous action by the end of Session 46, but by the time we’d reconvened for Session 47, they’d worked their way back to, “Mahdoth must die!”

At no point, however, did I feel the need to correct the players in their mistake or somehow “fix” what was going on. This is because nothing was broken.

As long as the PCs are moving forward and with purpose, it doesn’t matter if they’re doing so due to a misapprehension: I had prepped a situation (in which chaos cultists pick up shipments of chaositech from Children of Mrathrach at Mahdoth’s Asylum) and the PCs’ actions were driving them to engage more and more deeply with that situation. Was that engagement different than I’d expected? Sure, and if I’d prepped a plot that might have been a problem.

THE REVERSAL

When running a situation-based scenario, in fact, these kinds of false assumptions are often desirable. They provide a completely organic, but dramatically satisfying reversal when the truth comes out.

A reversal, you see, is that moment when everything you think you know about a story is suddenly turned on its head: The private detective has been framed by the dame who hired him. The “CIA agent” who recruited the PCs was actually working for the bad guys. You thought you came to assassinate a beholder, but it turns out you’re actually here to help the beholder layoff some troublesome staff members.

There are techniques you can use to prep reversals, but they can be tricky to pull off in a satisfying way. Even when you do pull it off, the players will know you pulled a fast one on them, even if they appreciate the moment. But when the players know that they duped themselves? When they completely own the false assumptions?

That’s pure gold.

That’s a dramatic beat that lands and lands hard.

Or, alternatively, if the PCs finish the scenario without ever figuring out their mistake, it will likely generate all kinds of delightful complications and blowback for them to deal with later: Imagine if they had killed Mahodth and left the asylum completely unsupervised! What might the consequences have been?

Campaign Journal: Session 47B – Running the Campaign: Fighting With Monsters
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

DISCUSSING
In the Shadow of the Spire – Session 46B: Into the Asylum

Elestra reached out to the memories of Zairic’s corpse through the Spirit of the City. In a horrible, gurgling voice Zairic’s head spoke from it lay atop his corpse, attached by only a slim flap of flesh.

I love speak with dead almost as much as my players do. It’s an essential part of their toolkit whether they’re scouting a dungeon, unraveling a mystery, or probing the depths of a conspiracy. The In the Shadow of the Spire group actually keeps a “dead-icated bag” — a bag of holding for the important corpses they want to hold onto and question again after the one week waiting period has expired.

This means that I need to be prepared for all of their speak with dead antics, which is something I talk about in more detail in Random GM Tip: Speak With Dead Mysteries. (I also talk about how I keep track of the bodies in the dead-icated bag in Campaign Status Module: Trackers.)

But the fun part is figuring out all of the gruesome ways these mangled and half-rotten corpses speak under the influence of the spell.

Zairic, as seen here, is a fairly mundane example (although miming his head hanging on by a flap of skin had a pretty great effect on my players when combined with the gurgling voice), but I try to bring a little bit of flair to these, as seen with Silion back in Session 40:

“We can still ask her a few questions,” Elestra asked. “I can force her body’s memories to speak through the Spirit of the City. But we’ll only be allowed three questions, so we should choose them carefully.”

Tee nodded. “Let’s make sure we get it right.”

They debated the list of questions for the better part of half an hour and then Elestra wove her magic. Silion’s decapitated head rose into the air, its blood dripping in a sickly, coagulate gore down onto its own corpse below.

If speak with dead is a common part of your campaign, you could certainly prep a list of these to use as needed. Personally, I enjoy improvising them — taking into account the dead NPC, the circumstances of their death, their wounds, and even the surrounding scenery wherever the PCs are casting the spell.

A few things to think about in improvising your own speak with dead moments:

• How does their wound affect their voice?
• What unnatural position could the body be contorted into?
• How could the strangeness of the spell impact the surroundings (e.g., spattering blood, rattling bones, the corpse’s severed arm trying to crawl back to the torso from across the room)?
• Is there an overtly supernatural effect (e.g., the body floats into the air or an eery glow emanates from the corpse’s mouth)?

The goal is for the players to viscerally appreciate that what they’re doing is anything but natural or ordinary. (Is it evil? Morally grey? That depends on your morality. But, regardless, it shouldn’t be easy for them to feel comfortable about what they’re doing. It should feel like weird shit, and they probably wouldn’t want their mothers walking into the room while they’re doing it.)

There’s no need to overdo it, though. Just one or two key details are enough to bring the scene to vivid life. Less is more, and if you’ve got a really cool idea… well, there’s always the next corpse.

Campaign Journal: Session 47A – Running the Campaign: False Assumptions
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index