The plan is to schedule and stream Dark Souls, Project Zomboid, and Dragon’s Dogma when that comes out. I’ll also be impromptu streaming HELLDIVERS gameplay with some of the TBG team.
I’ve started recording some footage from an ongoing 5th Edition D&D campaign called Refuge. I don’t think I’ll post full clips, but outtakes and highlights. It’s a good group.
While the whole TBG project has been slow to launch and has changed directions a few times, I’m happy to be exploring options and finding what works best for me, for the site, and for you. Thanks for your patience!
It is the function of the Game Master to give players as much rope as they ask for–above and beyond the 50′ each member of the party is obligated to carry–that they might hang themselves. Running a game is very much like writing a horror story–the more you leave up to their imaginations, the worse the situation gets.
Most of the players in my ongoing D&D 5E campaign are relative neophytes. For many of them, I’m the only GM they’ve ever known. They are pushing 5th and 6th level for the first time. With the exception of my longtime friend and resident optimizer, they have yet to fight their first dragon, cast their first Teleport, etc etc. But I think I’ve done a good job so far–when we had a couple of guest players, both veterans, they asked me after the session: “They’re so afraid–What did you do to them?”
To get to this delicious level of Player PTSD, I’ve relied on one of the classic DM tricks–tell them what they sense. It’s amazing what adding a couple of so-called weasel words can do. For example, tell the players that “There seems to be a large pile of gold in the center of the room” or “The bridge appears to be solid.” If you’ve done your job, they will approach it with fear and trepidation.
Eventually, this trains your players to ask smart questions, actively telling where they look and what they do. I really like how 5th edition goes back to the old Search mechanic–while you do have the Investigate skill to get you started, the players are really supposed to tell you how they’re searching the wall. “I roll to investigate” and “You find a hidden door” pales in comparison to “I check the bookshelf, nudging the books out of line to see if any of them are attached to a hidden lever.”
It can also have some unproductive results, however. Some of my players are complaining that they spend a great deal of time cautiously poking around empty rooms and normal hallways. It’s also led them on some wrong turns–over the last several months they’ve been exploring the same megadungeon, in search of a mystical Forge, and each time they try to locate it they pick up on a clue that may or may not be real and end up hilt-deep in another fight against damage resistant Helm Horrors.
Finding the balance between letting the players truly explore on their own vs guiding them towards the best content is tricky. It’s easier when you make sure that everything the PCs can do in your gaming environment is interesting, but that involves a great deal of prepwork (or some truly excellent improvisation).
This post will contain no information about kegs, proper music, venues, or how to get girls to come to your party (though you SHOULD have some girls in your adventuring party, and we can talk about that later).
The Steampunk group is shaping up. We’ve got a lot of players (somewhere in the 6-9 range) and that can be a challenge. Keeping players engaged, keeping a modicuum of sanity to myself, and making sure that the spotlight shines on everyone is difficult. I’ve got a head start with the PDQ# system–it always takes a little while to explain, but once players grasp the core concepts they intuitively get it and can move quickly.
The trick is to be friendly but assertive. I’ve had the most success when I move from person to person, making sure they feel important when it is their turn–that their actions matter and drive the story. But if they start to bog things down with details, or just take more time than works for the group as a whole, give them a clear sign that you need to wrap up their action. Encourage players across the table to think about what they’re going to do and remind them when their turn is imminent. Make sure that most encounters have something for every player to do, a challenge to which their strengths are particularly suited.
That’s how I plan to address the actual table time issues, but there are a few other elements at play–an unfamiliar system with a lot of flexibility, for starters. I really like narrative, free-form systems–while I haven’t played too many tabletop games myself, I spent way too much time on free-form roleplay sites like Legend of the Green Dragon. There weren’t too many rules there, aside from 1) Everyone gets to decide what happens to their character and 2) You can only get away with what your peers will let you get away with. That was an excellent experience for figuring out how to portray a character as talented but not Mary-Sue esque (you will hear the crap out of this stuff later on), and it also helped me get good at trying to include diverse characters in a single plot.
A lot of folk are uncomfortable with the amount of choice–there’s no list of feats or skills to pick from! I’ve decided to start by asking people to come up with a concept and throwing a bunch of inspiration sources at them. As long as they have a cool idea, we can bring it to life.
Which brings me to the last challenge–experience. In most of the games I’ve run over the years, 50% of the players have little to no experience. I firmly hold that it is the GM’s job to know the rules and prevent them from getting in the way of fun. Not by ignoring them (though Rule 0 holds true) but by managing them behind the scenes until the players are comfortable and interested enough to learn them themselves. It can get old waiting for someone to figure out how to calculate their attack bonus for the twentieth time, but patience and compassion here can be the difference between introducing a great new player to the craft and driving yet another person away from the clubhouse.
For the record, we’ve only divided our plan into phases because I really want to say THATS MAH FAVORITE PHAAAASE when we get to Phase Two. Plus, if it’s good enough for Marvel, it’s good enough for me.
The starship combat game has been moved to Phase 2. As my last post, the ideas we’ve got for the system will take a while to get right. Moving to a card game is exciting and, I think, will be a BLAST to play–but it means a lot of playtesting and logistics and art my god the art that we’ll need. So, in order to prevent Mission Creep from bringing the project into the doldrums, we humbly introduce Phase 1.
The year is 1868. Ever since Isaac Newton, The Last Alchemist, discovered the process for refining and harvesting Aether, nations and city-states have raced to exploit this bizarre power source and gain the advantage, leading to an earth with which you and I may not be familiar. Airships cross the Atlantic in record time. African Kings build mighty centers of culture and learning. Three divided nations emerge from the aether-poisoned ashes of a terrible Civil War. And in the midst of this world of floating cities and madcap inventions, a curious crew of troubleshooters and ne’er-do-wells takes a job from a shady–but wealthy–proprietor.
The new campaign will be powered by the PDQ# system, the product of Chad Underkoffler’s mind. I’ve run a game or two on this system including his Swashbucklers of the Seven Skies and it was a lot of fun. We’ve got a good crew picked out and we’re doing character creation right now. First recording session is in a couple of weeks. Look forward to actual play podcasts shortly thereafter!
On Tuesday, the regular D&D crowd came over for some slightly different fare. Used to the elegance of D&D Next, I subjected them to a system that has more in common with Star Fleet Battles than good old d20. They had a ton of great feedback from the get go, before the first die hit the table. For example, allocating power is really difficult when you use the same color tokens for newly generated power and reserve power. I had an elaborate vision in mind for yellow and green tiles placed strategically across the sheet, but using coins made it clear that this could be complex. Also, combining Tactical Advantage (no relation to 4th edition’s rule of the same name) with Initiative was too much–our heroes blasted the modified freighter pirate ship with impunity, having gained both.
Ultimately, there were a lot of features that they didn’t like when they heard about it at first, but liked in practice. I came away from the session with ideas for refining the system. Since this is meant to support a spacefaring RPG, not constitute the bulk of it, starship fights need to be exciting. I want the players to think “Ok, how are we going to handle this assault” or “Oh, if we do this side mission we can upgrade our plasma cannons!” What I don’t want is “Ugh, that’s going to take forever. Let’s just board them immediately/jump away/do whatever it takes to NOT shoot at each other in space.”
Working now with one of my long time co-conspirators to overhaul this, and we’re looking to take it in a Dominion-ish deckbuilding game. I’m realizing that if this looks good, it’s going to take a ton of time to prep. Makes me want to start on some other project that can get off the ground sooner, because my huge freaking I-swear-I’m-not-a-sex-toy-but-kinda-look-like-a-sex-toy Yeti Microphone just arrived, it sounds amazing, and I wanna DO something with it!
The point of making a blog post at this stage in a project is to give future archive trawlers something to do at 3am on a shame-fueled bout of insomnia. Hello, frazzled procrastinators of the future! I envy you your world of unfathomable progress, technology and cultural revolution. Is Trump president-for-life yet? What destroyed America first, global warming or moral decay? I wish I knew. For now, give our new reptilian overlords my regards and ask them not to build a breeding pit on my property. The land here is full of rocks and clay and digging out a spawning pool would be an absolute BITCH.
All that aside, let’s get down to business (To defeat…THE huns). What’s going on here? TormentedByGnomes is destined to be a tabletop role playing blog/social media presence, because a quick googling showed me that this is an underrepresented market. The only thing the internet needs more than another RPG blog is another two-gamers-on-a-couch webcomic.
The main course will be an Actual Play podcast. The game in question is a d20 future campaign I’ve run a few times, and slowly improved on each playthrough. This time around I want to really flesh out the game, fixing weird plot glitches, balancing gameplay, and implementing a few mods & homebrew bits that, when executed, should shine. Right now, that means working on a starship battle system that will add all the cool stuff that space opera should incorporate (Reroute power to the whatever! All weapons fire on my mark! Reverse thrust! Etc) while staying playable. It’s going to involve props, lots of props. I think my starship battle sheet prototype is ready for primetime.
Outside of that, I’m armed with 17 years of game mastering experience that I intend to milk for all its worth. Stay tuned for War Story Wednesdays, Tales from the Text-Based RPGs, guests, one-shots, drunken gaming (it always ends up happening), and more.
What else are we working on? Well, for starters, some website design. I have flat out never done this (any horrors of HTML you may find on the interwebs that contradict this are malevolent propaganda) so getting some good presentation set up is new territory. Fortunately, I’m not alone in this endeavor. My horrific co-conspirator knows a lot more about them there dee zines than me.
So, future midnight owls, the heart-breaking beauty of craftsmanship you gaze upon now was once a drafty skeleton of a default wordpress. Remember that when you’re googling all the Best Internet of the Whole Internets awards we’ve won.
Many of you are wondering how to log in. The answer is simple. All you have to do is C͉̺l̛͍̪̤̞̝i͙̱͠c̵͉̫̱̬̭ḳ͎̣͙̣̟͝ ̣̘̘̫̲̝͕o҉̟͙̱n̞͖͈̱ ̢͍̟̙̭̗̠̬b̘͖͈͓u̜͚̮͟t̙̯̺̼̩t҉͇̼̤̭̮̥o͖̣͓̱̱̳̕n̰̥̱͇͖ͅ ̶̤̜̞̹̱̜t̮h̩̭̬̠̝ͅa͏͓͈͕͍t̗̙͉̻͙̀ ̮̗͙̩s̟͔͚͚̘̲a̯͖̝̯̪̭̫ys͇̫̖͢ ̺̥l̟͖̫̖̠͞o̠͍͇͍̲̤̭g҉̺͔̫̠͎͓̫ ̞͙i͉̝͇̣͟n̸
̙̫͜S̤̮̰̙͔͞u̡̺͇͇p̴̟̮̗͈̥p̛̞̰̖̳̼ͅl̶̝͇̘͉͖i͎̫̦̳̙c̕ate̖̣͔͓͝ ̝Z̸͎a̻̪̘͇̥̣͇l̖̥̰g͡ọ͎̯͕ͅ ̞͎̱̖ͅw̡͇̘͉i͚̤̥̗̘̦ͅt̴̮̪̲̠h̵̩ ̯̱̘͔̪̩t͕̲͈̣h̗͞e҉̱̪͎ ͏͓b̡̫͇ḽ͉͔̤̘̩͡ͅo͇̭̰͉͔̞o͡d̸͙͍ ̗̹̭͎o͏̩̤̜̯ͅf ̹̘̻͇̰y͈̠͈͉o̱̠̼̥̠͕͝ú̙̫͚̠r͉͔̟̲̳͕͚ ̺͔̝c̳̮͓̬̗h̼i̲̠̬̤͓͞l̯̲̯ͅd̺͇ẖ̲o̗͙̺̘̘̖̻od̝̠͕̪́ ҉̤̫̫̥̝d̙͓̜͈̩ͅṟ̥e̼̜̮̼̦̼͓a̴̪̦͉ͅm̙͔̥̗̹̳͡s͞
̠̹̭͉̥̮̟́G̶̖̤az͎̱̦ḙ ̢u̳̥̥̹̠͎p̻͉̭͓͓͖̫o̪̼̹n̢̤͇̳̮ͅ ̫̺̘̀h̝͉̻̼͡i̴͚̟͓͍s̫ ̩̜̖̲͇ṿ̴͔͉̜̰̟i̸͎͇̘͉s̪̬a̭̙̭g͍̰̹e ҉͙̺a͏̬̦̪͉n̷͚̥d̴͔̥̯̣̞͚ ͙̟̣͎͓̻̫f̸̣̥̤̪̺e̞͖̙͖̪̯e̦l̢͖̮̰̪ ̷̬y̢o̳͔̪͈ͅu͝r͏̲ ͔ṭ̟r̶ue͕̜͝ ̶̺͙̥̪n͓̣͔͔̣͙̕a̳͇̮̫͉ͅm͍̝̲͈̜̗e̴̘̩͓̳ ̝̠̟͝c̥͓͖͚̞̮h͉̠͢a̹͕̩͙͕͈͕n͈͞g̭̣e̻