Baroque Space Troika! Style

Reading over Daniel Sell's rules for Troika! Basic, and I am utterly charmed. I wrote up some backgrounds for Baroque Space using the ruleset. It's a great way to get really setting-appropriately flavored characters easy:

BLEMMYE (ACEPHALOID)
You are a squat, muscular savage, belligerent and possibly anthropophagous, with a face on your torso.

Possessions
War club
Filed teeth (damage as knife)
Fetish or Talisman

Skills
6 Language (their own savage tongue)
2 Awareness
3 Club Fighting
2 Strength
1 Tracking
2 Wrestling

BROTHER OF THE BELT
You are a buccaneer of that rebel society of the asteroids, who find fraternity among thieves adhering to a simple code: No member may  rob or cheat another, loot must be apportioned by established rules, and no captain may command without being elected by the crew.

Possessions
Cutlass
Mechanical eye, hidden mostly behind a patch, but capable of scuttling ambulation on unfolding limbs. It can record what it seems for 15 minutes and relay it upon reinsertion.
Pistol
breathing-dress (counts as modest armor)

Skills
2 Astrology
3 Climbing
2 Pilot
2 Sword Fighting
2 Pistol Fighting

GAMESTER

You are an inveterate gambler, late of the Jovial gaming houses.

Possessions

Deck of Marked Cards

Dueling Pistol of overly elaborate design 

Jovian Dice (d6, in various kaleidoscopic Neoplatonic solids)

Non-Euclidean Laputan Habiliments

Skills

2 Awareness

2 Etiquette

1 Evaluate

1 Sleight of Hand

2 Pistol Fighting

3 Secret Signs - Tells

LUNAR CASTAWAY

You have been recently rescued from the silvery Lunar wastes where you were long marooned.

Possessions

Antique Musket

Fantastical yet rustic clothing

Journal and writing implement

Semi-transparent body owing to long subsistence on Lunar fruit

Skills

3 Awareness 

2 Language - Selenite telepathy

1 Musket Fighting

2 Run

2 Tracking

MERCURIAN COURTIER

What is there in life for you now that you have been compelled to flee the shining court of His Heliocephaliac Majesty, Helios XXIII, Emperor of Mercury? The other worlds are so cold! Still you persevere. 

Possessions

Mercurian Court Fashion: powdered whig, cache-sexe, corset, jabot or a doublet, pantaloons, stockings, and heels --and a mantled cloak.

Mercurian shaded lens on a stick OR goggles

Light-blocking ointment

Muff Pistol

Stiletto

Skills

3 Etiquette

2 Gambling

3 Language - Mercurian

1 Knife Fighting

2 Pistol Fighting

RUDE MECHANICAL

You are a Mechanical android. Glimpses of variegated lights blinking through the crack in your brazen skull tell the tale: You are malfunctioning and masterless, certainly, but also possibly possessed of radical political views.

Skills

2 in a weapon or improvised weapon of choice

3 in a skill related to your primary function (Etiquette, Mathmology, Evaluate, Craft Skill, etc.)

2 in a Language of choice

1 Strength

1 Run

Possessions

Repair kit

Weapon or improvised weapon of choice

Special

Mechanicals do not heal like natural folk, but must spend an evening in repair. For each hour of rest with access to repair tools regain 3 Stamina.

You always have the equivalent of light armor.

SPACE COOK

You are a veteran of many voyages and an essential member of any astronef crew. It is often no mean feat to wring something edible from the bounty of the spontaneous generation vats, and occasionally, you succeed.

Possessions

Bottle of rotgut

Cleaver

Pistol

Vials of salt and various exotic spices

Venerian Jabbering Monkey 

Skills

1 Awareness

2 Cooking

1 Strength

2 Axe (Cleaver) Fighting

2 Pistol Fighting

2 Fist Fighting

Wednesday Comics: Cosmic Tales

Storm will resume next week, after the holiday. Today, I want to point you (again) to a webcomic done by Mike "Aos" Gibbons: Cosmic Tales. It's got a Bronze Age charm that you will dig if you dig Bronze Age comics, and if you don't you haven't been paying attention to my comics posts over the years. Check it out.

The Weird Life Cycle of Elves

What humans mistake as different tribes or clades of elves are actually different stages in their millennia long, perhap endless, lives.

Wood elves are elven adolescents. They rebel against their parents and go to live in bands of others of their age. They throw racuous parties in the woods and experiment with intoxicants. They are capricious, emotional, and cliqueish. Their tribes run the gamut between Woodstock and Lord of the Flies.

High elves are elven adults. They interact most with other species and are responsible for the maintenance of elven civilization. It is in this age cohort that the immortality of elves begans to take its toll, however. Elven brains are not structurally that different from humans. They do not have the capacity to hold countless centuries of memories. Their initial compensatory mechanism is monomania. Elves develop a strong interest that narrows the array of factual information they must recall and provides constant reinforcement for the things they find important. Some become swordsmasters, some master artists or craftsmen, some archmages.

For some elves this is enough, and they grow more skilled, more focused, and stranger, until they become almost demigods in their chosen vocation. These are the Gray.

Others, though, are not able to maintain such focus. Something akin to dementia sets in. They become forgetful, and paranoid. As they begin to lose their past--lose themselves--they find only intense or traumatic memories linger long. These are the dark elves.

Dark because of the darkness that consumes their minds; dark for the deeds they commit to hold on to self and not slip into mindless reverie. They go to live in the dungeons of their kind to pursue intense pleasures and horrors or simply howl or cackle in the darkness. These elders are feared by other elves. They avoid them and will not speak of them to nonelves.

The Dictionary of Azurth Updated

It has been about six months since my last update to the Dictionary Azurth, so it was due. You'll find new entries for the Book of Doors, the Etheric Realm, Queen Hyacinthia, Paper Town, the Super-Wizards, and the Uncanny Valley. Probably something else I forgot, too,

On the Western

What follows are some observations on media in the Western genre (mostly film and tv, but comics and even novels are probably not exempt) brought on by a discussion of Westworld. These may be relevant to Old West gaming--if you want to evoke the feel of media rather than historic simulation.

Westerns are Fantasies, not in the sense of genre fantasy, but as in taking place in a fictionalized milieu. This is obscured by historical fictions in Western garb, numerous Westerns loosely based on real events (My Darling Clementine and Doc are both about the OK Corral but just about all they have in common are the names of some historical personages), and the fact that even the most ahistorical Westerns use elements of real history like locations or Native American groups.

But beyond the disregard for strict historical accuracy (a World War II machine gun in the Civil War setting of Fist Full of Dollars or The Wild Bunch's fuzzy placement during the Mexican Civil War) common to films, we have the almost ritual performance of emerging statehood in The Man Who Shot Liberty Valence the mystery play of  civilization arriving with the railroad in Once Upon A Time in the West, or the alt-history Tombstone of Forty Guns.All these films have in common a heavy use of the tropes and elements of "the Old West" without any specific historical references.

Scenery is More than Location. John Ford put the striking vistas of Monument Valley in a number of films and in doing so placed it all over the West--maybe even actually in Utah at some point! When Sergio Leone gets to make a Western in the U.S. he shoots there, too. I can't think of a single grim slaughter or dramatic shootout in a film in the shadow of say West Mitten Butte. That isn't the portion of the Matter of the West that is performed in that sort of place. Men tend to die in narrow canyons or scrub desert plains in California or maybe Spain. The enactment of the mythology does not respect distance or realistic topography. A perfect encapsulation of this is Once Upon A Time in the West (it's title suggesting its mythic narrative): The town of Sweetwater and the rail station are in Spain, but Monument Valley lies between the two. Frank and his gang hole up somewhere in the vicinity of Mesa Verde. The generic West must contain all this disparate real estate in days ride or so.

One gaming thought related to the above: Would a Western work devoid of much of those real world references (no matter how thin)? Could you set a Western in some Ruritania-esque fictional state or territory? Probably going to completely fictional stand-in for North America would go to far (without magic to signify genre fantasy), but maybe not.

Wednesday Comics: Storm: City of the Damned

My exploration of the long-running euro-comic Storm, continues. Earlier installments can be found here.

Storm: City of the Damned (1982) (part 4)
(Dutch: Stad der Verdoemden)
Art by Don Lawrence & Script by Kelvin Gosnell

Ember and the other captives beginning the dangerous climb up the outside of the city, They're attacked by one of Gor's lieutenants: a knight on a winged horse. Ember manages the knock the sword from his hand and jump on the horse behind him. She starts to pull of the mask, There is a flash of light and the knight says they will meet again. Then, the empty suit of armor falls apart. Ember now has a steed.

She breaks into the city just in time, because Anor is about to execute the still mind-controlled Storm. Ember snatches up a sword and Anor creates a kind of energy blade. She slices through Ember's sword and has her at her mercy. Ember makes a desperate lunge and knocks Anor to the ground--and she falls on her own sword.

As she dies, Storm is freed from her control. Anor taunts the hero as she dies: Gor's troops now have an imprint of Storm's killer instinct. They will be unstoppable.

As she speaks, Gor's army is indeed advancing through the city. The citizens and the compiter are panicked. Storm tells the computer he can save the city, but only if the the computer agrees to do one thing for him once the enemy is defeated. The computer is worried about what this request might be, but it accepts the condition.

Storm asks for a sword and a time belt. Ember asks Storm where it is they are going. He replies: "Right to the Devil's lair."

TO BE CONTINUED

The Land of the Wooden Gargoyles

Our 5e Land of Azurth game continued last night with the party entering the conical mountain at the edge of the Vale of Vo. A sign warned them that this way led to the Land of the Gargoyles and urged caution, but they began climbing the mountain's great internal stairway anyway.

After a days travel (and a rest) they came to a platform and a balcony overlooking a burning, oilly sea. The balcony was the nesting site of giant vultures of a very disagreeable type:

Trying to sneak past the nest, the party was forced to kill one vulture before they could continue on their way. Next, they were greeted by an affable disembodied head with long hair and a beard. Not conmpletely disembodied, it turned out. The man's body was just stuck (mostly) inside a portable hole. The man gave his name as "7739" (but after finding where he carved it in the ground, the party suspected in was actually "Gell"). He claimed to be an magical inventor from the Land of Azurth. He had made his living putting holes in fancy cheeses and the like, until a mathematical error in the construction of a hole led to catastrophe. He fell into this underworld and became hopelessly stuck in a tangle of holes. He didn't seem much bothered by this. He had devoted his time to the creation of "Huzzahs" for political rallies and flutters for flags and the like. The party was certain he was a lunatic, but Waylon nevertheless purchased a box of three huzzahs for the price of a piece of string.

Continuing their journey, the group came to the end of the stairway and a strange mesa. It looked like a sawdust strewn stage set: the flowers and trees were wooden cutouts, so seemed to be the clouds overhead. The marionette gargoyles that came flying towards them on creaking, hinged wings were more fully formed--and belligerent. After a pitch battle, the party dispatched eleven of them.

There seemed to be no way off the mesa but flying, and a wooden, gargoyle city seemed to lie between them and the next mountain. The party made camp in what they hoped was a secluded spot to heal their wounds and formulate a plan of action.