Fate Core and Tribe 8

I've been doing a lot of thinking about various implementations I've tried for adapting Tribe 8 to Fate. My first was using Spirit of the Century as a starting point, but I ran into roadblocks I wasn't able to work around. I backed off for a while, until I discovered Strands of Fate. I thought, "Yes, this one is what I'm looking for!" and was able to bust through a lot of those roadblocks. The result, which I've made available here, is something that I stand behind. I think it's a damn fine adaptation and brings a lot to the table in terms of capturing the tone and feel of Tribe 8 (or, at least, how I interpret it).

I love the Fate fractal, I think it's one of the most elegant, simple concepts since the first war gamer decided to name a character. Anything can be a character. Anything can have Aspects. The different ideas I've had for stress tracks, most of which I've written up here in support of Strands of Flesh and Spirit, are pretty awesome. They're not things I would use all the time, but it's great the capability is there. But there's still a bit of...heaviness...about the conversion. There's a lot of Aspects, multiple stress tracks, powers modeled after the framework provided in Strands of Power. I want it to be leaner, and that's certainly something that Strands can handle, but this has never been about being beholden to one implementation of Fate or another. It's about trying to capture the ephemeral feeling I have about how Tribe 8 should be. I'm like a bear standing on a rock in the middle of the rapids, looking for exactly the right salmon to pluck out.

Fate Core has brought together such an energetic, creative group of people with great ideas. Hunter Gatherer Games has a great post on tribes for their Apocalithic setting. Michael Moceri has come up with some absolutely genius ideas for his Exalted hack. I want my Tribe 8 conversion to be leaner, lighter and capable of supporting the vision I have for my Tribe 8 games. Fate Core, from the settings I've read as part of the Kickstarter, gives me ideas to see that vision through. It doesn't mean I'm done with Strands of Fate - the end result will have elements of both. Plus, I still really want to create a Mekton-worthy Fate hack and I think Strands of Fate is the perfect fit for the job. I'm also very much looking forward to Nova Praxis. But I want to take a step back, toward the type of game I conceptualized when I first read Spirit of the Century. In some ways, that means my Tribe 8 adaptation is coming home again.

I'm not going to remove or change any of the things I've already done. The Strands of Fate version of Dreams of Flesh and Spirit is pretty complete, and anyone who has really liked it and found utility in it can continue to do so. It's just personally, I'm going to move on toward catching that perfect salmon.  

Welcome to Dixton, Torcher!

The Fate Core Kickstarter ended on an enormous high note. So high, I think I might fail a drug test. I'm honored and humbled to be part of such an auspicious event...I actually think this is roleplaying history in the making.

In honor of the Kickstarter ending, I offer a brief write-up of the setting I intend on using for a Thief/Dishonored inspired game. I've actually been working on it for over a week, but it wound up being too in-depth and very dry, so I backtracked and trimmed it down.

Dixton

Modern Dixton is a city of contrasts. The twin rivers of Eastfork and Westfork split the city into quarters and highlight the divisions between its people. The cramped, dirty, violent alleys of The Commons. The clean, safe manors of Highvault. The sweat and labor of Dockside. The parties and festivals of the Old Quarter. The genteel land-owners and the scheming merchants. Commoners whisper in the streets of secretive cults and conspiracies, of dark rituals and shrines to a shadowy trickster god, while the Deacons in Highvault proselytize their vision of a world of pristine order, bereft of chaos.

Dixton was also where torchpalm was discovered, a plant that transformed a whole Empire. Growing in the subtropical forests around the small trading outpost, the pods of the palm-like trees held the secret to creating a form of high-powered fuel. It helped usher in a technological revolution...powering factories and machinery, light sources, ships, and even weaponry. The sleepy trading town boomed into a sprawling metropolis virtually over night.

This expansion was not without its growing pains. Prior to the discovery of the torchpalm, Dixton was filled with all manner of criminals, pirates, smugglers and con men. The Empire installed a Governor and began granting land to wealthy nobles for plantations, and drove the criminal elements underground where they formed criminal families and syndicates. Dixton's rise in prominence as a transportation hub meant powerful merchant houses formed, vying with the landowners for more say over the city's affairs. The Governor's rule keeps the peace, but doesn't extend into every dark corner of the city. It is in these shadows were the battles are still fought using sabotage, theft and assassination.

Beyond Dixton and its vast plantations lies a continent that has been barely explored. Naturalists continually discover new plants and minerals with unheard of properties. Ancient ruins are covered by the forest and undergrowth, the artifacts and treasures to be found there coveted by wealthy collectors and scholars alike. The builders of these ruined cities are a mystery. The only natives to the area, the human-like Si who were set free two decades ago when the Empire abolished slavery, have no written language and only primitive technology. Yet they have unexplained knowledge of many things, from faraway lands to astronomy to scientific principles Their knowledge of the torchpalm is yet to be surpassed, and the strange tattoos inked with the tree's juice are said to have magical properties. Whether they are the true heirs of this lost civilization has yet to be seen.

Interwoven through all of these elements are those who aren't afraid of the shadows. They're the ones the wealthy turn to for their plots, the crime families for their operations, the relic collectors for their artifacts. They're the ones who don't concern themselves with the reasons they're needed or the origin of the coin purse they walk away with. They go by various names: torchers, thieves, sneaks, burglars, taffers, assassins, choffers, rogues.  And you're one of them.

The content of this post is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.

Sins of the Sister, Part 3

I fell feel asleep quickly and slipped into the River. I could have freely explored, but chose to stay confined within my own Dream world, flowing along with the River in the hope of gaining insight into the day's events.

I am standing over Robbo in Bazaar, pressing the tip of a sword to his chest. He begs for mercy, choking under the crushing weight of my boot against his throat. Filled with rage, a blackness rising up within me until I can no longer contain it, I pierce his chest with the blade in a gout of blood.

Suddenly I am looking skyward, a blade rising from my chest - the sword Robbo used to kill Nyeda. Shadowy figures fade in and out of view until one steps toward me, grasping the hilt of the sword and twisting, pushing the tip through me into the ground beneath. Tendrils of inky smoke snake their way down the blade into my mouth, silencing my scream as they fill my throat. Darkness clouds my vision until I can only hear the grinding of the blade into the hard-packed dirt.

Trey's boots scrape against the ground as two Blades drag him further into the center of the ruin. The building we had sought refuge in was relatively intact. We had shored up most of the gaps in the walls with debris and posted lookouts on the remainder. Someone even managed to get a fire going. In the pitch black outside the walls, I can hear scrabbling and the Serfs' foul language. 

Thwap. Thwap. Kileg's bow thrums with power, the Synthesis imbued arrows finding their marks even in total darkness. Something thrashes and moans piteously in the darkness. Kileg quickly squats back down, placing the bow across his thighs. 

"We can't stay here, you know," he says. 

I nod grimly. When some scouts had reported a Serf village a half day's journey or so inside No Man's Land, I quickly organized a raiding party to take care of it. It was a frequent enough event no one thought much of it; we would leave the Seven Fingers, find the village and raze it to the ground. If we did not, the Serfs would quickly multiply and spread like a disease. The village was easily located, but two Z'bri surprised us as we set about torching the buildings. Before we had a chance to respond, three of the raiding party were killed and two more wounded. 

One of the Beasts was a Koleris, who had fought savagely, pain fueling its rage even as I ran it through with my sword. Its death throes had sprayed burning ichor, reducing my shield to a smoking, melted ruin. The second Z'bri was a Melanis. It was an impossible-looking creature comprised entirely of constantly moving legs, bent in a hundred different angles. It had no visible head, only horrific, distorted faces that emerged and disappeared randomly from within its skin. Skittering in the shadows between the burning buildings, it somehow rallied the score or so surviving Serfs, who began to jerk and stumble toward us like Dahlian string puppets. The Z'bri then began using its Sundering to siphon our thoughts and memories, clouding our minds and sowing chaos in our ranks. Trey was the first to succumb, reduced to a slack-jawed drooling shell. Even now the Z'bri's Atmosphere scrapes against the inside of my skull and burns my throat with a putrid tang. When I spotted the ruin I quickly gave orders to retreat to it so we could regroup. 

"We need to slip out of the far side of this building," I say. "We break straight west, then south toward the Seven Fingers. When we're close enough, Kileg can loose a signal arrow and hope the lookouts see it and send out a war party." 

"It will find us," Selia whispers from her position near one of the openings in the wall. She is standing perfectly still, staring into the darkness. 

I take her face in my hands and gently kiss her on the lips. She is covered in blood and gore, but I don't care. Her eyes are wide, her pupils shrunk to dots despite the darkness. She needs me now, they all do. "We are going to get out this." 

Selia begins to shake, softly at first, her spine going rigid as the convulsions increase in strength. A terrible keening erupts from her throat and I hear the rasp of her sword leaving her scabbard. Kileg yells something behind me, but all I can do is look into her eyes, suddenly glazed over and unseeing, clouded by the influence of the Beast. I'm crying and shaking my head, even as I unsheathe my own sword. The inhuman sound trails off into a sputtering gurgle, and she looks down at the sword driven deep underneath her breastbone, her eyes wide and suddenly Selia again. I will never forget her look of betrayal and terror as she slumps into my arms. 

I'm in Bazaar again, holding Robbo's bloody sword. For the first time,  I notice the intricate glyphs on the crossguard and the blade's dull, flecked metal. In front of me stands the monster I faced when we escaped the ruins and the Z'bri attack. The bodies of my fallen comrades have been melted together into a patchwork of forms, lumbering along unevenly on legs and arms, multiple heads searching for its prey. But...the faces aren't right. Where there should be the faces of the Joanites who died that night in No Man's Land, instead are those of the three young Joanites, Nyeda's, the Sin Eater's and Selia's. All of them begin pleading with me, the cacophony growing until I can no longer take it and drive the blade deep into its fetid flesh...

With an audible whoomp I forced myself awake, sitting up in my pallet. I was drenched with sweat despite the pre-dawn chill. What does that night in No Man's Land have to do with Robbo? Or the Sin Eater? I thought. The sword! The sword was important in some way. Perhaps Den'a knew why.

It was not long before my initiate came with bread and porridge. After my meal, she helped me prepare for the day. I had no idea what to expect - where I was familiar with death, Mortuary was intimate with it. There was no telling what dangers might lurk within the enormous necropolis, hiding among its twisted paths and tangle of crypts, mausoleums, ruins and grave fields. I had him help me don my armor and weapons, pack provisions and a few other items, and descended from the Tower to make sure Robbo and the others were ready.

The air in the Tower's lower level was filled with the scent of cooking food. I said a few greetings but did not stop, heading past the bustle of the common areas and the clang of arms in the Arena to the stairs leading below. Robbo was the only prisoner in the small block of unused cells underneath the Tower. Most Tribal criminals wound up in the Red Gaol, where they stayed just long enough to be tried and judged, and Joanites almost never held prisoners of their own. This left the cells in the tower empty except for high profile prisoners, or unusual cases like Robbo.

Robbo was sitting in one corner of the cell, muttering to himself as he rocked back and forth with his knees to his chest. Around his neck was a wooden collar with two metal rings driven into either side. He was covered in filth, his hair matted and his clothes in shreds. Two poles with dull hooks leaned on the wall outside of the cell, just outside of reach from the bars.

"It was the only way could get him out of the cart." The jailer glared at Robbo as he brushed past me. The jailer was old and bent, one of his legs missing from the knee down. He limped around on a foot taken from some large doll that was found in a skytower near Bazaar. "He refused to get up or walk, and we were afraid to carry him with what happened to that Blade. So we slapped a collar on him and dragged him here."

"We're not going to be able to handle the poles and collar...I'm going to need him in wrist and ankle shackles. If there aren't already rings in the wagon to lock the shackles to, I'd suggest you set to putting them in."

The jailer nodded, grabbing one of the poles. Two burly guards entered from an adjacent room, and started to put shackles on Robbo. He was covered in more blood than I remembered, and had several serious burns on his face and hands. The jailer must have read the look on my face.

"The Inquisitor went easy on him. Couldn't get nothing anyway, not even from Truthsaying. Boy won't speak."

"I won't have him looking like a Squat. Clean him up, and bandage those burns. He needs new clothes, too. Make sure he's fed and see nothing more happens to him between now and when we leave." My own words surprised me. I had little doubt he was the one who had murdered Nyeda. But something gnawed at my thoughts, something that didn't add up, and I felt Robbo was the key.

"Will do. You'd better get upstairs, I heard Kileg was waiting for you. We'll take care of him."

Fate Core, Some More Thoughts

Fate Core, even as a draft, contains some of the best GMing advice I've ever read. It's a fundamental revelation, like the first time reading a system that didn't use levels, or classes, or random die rolls for attributes, or random damage from weapons. Even someone who runs a non-Fate game can benefit from this stuff.

The recurring theme throughout is something I've subconsciously understood when running games, but never gave a lot of thought about: how does this add to the game? We are told in various ways, in various sections, to make things matter. If you can't come up with a compelling reason for a die roll, or a ruling, or a story element, then you need to rethink it a little bit. If it doesn't do something to move the story forward or challenge the PCs, maybe it doesn't need to be there. Chapter 9 - "Scenes, Sessions and Scenarios" - is a particular goldmine of wisdom on examining various elements ranging from the relationships between the PCs, other characters, the world, and various other connections for getting a scenario going. A GM doesn't need to have Aspects in their game to take advantage of the methods Fate Core suggests.

In "What Makes a Good Fate Game?", three basics are laid out: competence, proactivity and drama. The characters are competent at what they do. Situations shouldn't exist unless they let the PCs show off their competence. When things go pear shaped, it's not because they didn't know what they were doing, it's in spite of their competence. Maybe the plan doesn't go right, or there's something beyond their control. The PCs are also proactive. They get involved, they do stuff, and don't just sit around waiting for the adventure to come to them. Finally, there need to be complications and difficult choices that the PCs have to make. Nothing should be single-faceted, unless that in itself is interesting and moves the story forward.

I've played in games where the GM seemed to only focus on setting our characters up for failure. They weren't fun games. Nobody wants to be forced to make a Dexterity roll for no reason other than to open a door - not an important door, not because the character is being chased by a demon, but just because the GM randomly decides it's a thing to do. Similarly, I've played in games where none of the players actually had their characters do anything. The PCs sat around like lumps, waiting for the next plot point to find them. The only way to get them engaged was to set up a fight, and even those turned out mechanical and boring because the players weren't engaged. They didn't have any skin in the game besides the scribbles on their character sheets. Fate Core's advice does a lot to counter these types of things and I can see how employing some of the techniques could help pretty much any game.

Obviously, some GMing styles might not mesh well with this. If you're someone who doesn't really like metagaming - or are a "let the dice fall where they may" type person where chance encounters are expected to be deadly - competence, proactivity and drama may not be the best fit. Even so, the higher level idea of make it matter should still  be a takeaway. If a character is going to get an infection from a random injury they sustained, it should matter somehow. If you're going to call for a die roll, at least think about how that die roll might turn out. What happens if the character fails? How can it lead to additional complications? What are the stakes? Those are questions I'm going to be asking from now on, regardless of what game I'm playing.

Mike Pondsmith and Me

I first came into R. Talsorian Games' products in the mid-Eighties. There was a comic book store called Funny Business in Pomona, CA run by a gentleman named Joey. Joey was very big into anime - his store screened anime on Sundays (no subtitles, no dubbing, often a copy of a copy of a copy sent from Japan). He also stocked some roleplaying games, and one day he showed me this game called Mekton. I loved the first edition of the game, and scooped up Mekton II when it came out. When I found out Mike Pondsmith was going to be at one of the Strategicon conventions, I saved up every cent so I could go.

The demo he ran at the convention featured new systems and rules from the upcoming Mekton Technical System. The scenario was an Elaran unit trying to defend an installation in the middle of the map from Kargans. If the Kargans got into the installation, they won. If we held them off for x amount of time, we won. By virtue of my knowing the system very well, I was chosen as the Elaran leader. Mr. Pondsmith ran the demo with one other person, and it was a complete blast. His presence, style of running the game, and encouraging the other players added a lot to the experience.

For anyone wondering, the demo ended with my side losing even though only one Kargan unit remained. He was close to the installation but nearly finished (if I remember right, both of his mech's arms had been blown off). He announced he was going to self-destruct (a very Kargan thing to do, "Death before dishonor" and all) , so I ordered a full withdrawal for my remaining units (a very Elaran thing to do). The turn before the powerplant would have blown, the Kargan player miraculously made the TECH roll needed to stop the countdown. My units were already either off the map or too far away to do anything, so his unit limped into the facility and they won.

After the demo, Mike Pondsmith congratulated both of us. He commended my decision to withdraw, saying it was exactly what he would have done as a goody-two-shoes Elaran commander. Afterward, he stuck around and I talked with him for at least an hour about anime, mecha, gamemastering, movies and books. That talk stuck with me. He was so animated and such a compelling speaker, plus an all around great guy. I felt he genuinely wanted to talk to me - I don't recall him ever looking around desperately for an excuse to get away from me. I was very honored he took the time to talk to me.

When it was released, Listen Up, You Primitive Screwheads! became my bible for running more games than Cyberpunk 2020. I saw a lot of the general advice he had given me at the convention in the book, and "When in doubt, roll and shout!" became my motto. I played hundreds of hours of Cyberpunk 2020 and various editions of Mekton, probably more than any other RPG prior to my discovering them. I bought nearly every Cyberpunk 2020 supplement sight unseen, even from third parties like Atlas Games or Ianus Publications/Dream Pod 9, as well as Dream Park and Cybergeneration. I liked Ianus Publications' Cyberpunk 2020 supplements and Jovian Chronicles for Mekton II so much, I started keeping tabs on their products as well. That lead me to Heavy Gear, Jovian Chronicles and one of my favorite RPGs of all time, Tribe 8.

Mike Pondsmith, and R. Talsorian Games, have left a very deep mark on the games I play and how they play them and are responsible for some of my best gaming experiences (whether playing one of their games or someone else's). I'm very excited to experience Cyberpunk 2077 when it's released,  and for Mike Pondsmith who will get to see his creation come to life in a new medium.

Fate Core: Some First Thoughts

I was finally able to back the Fate Core Kickstarter yesterday to the level I wanted (and coincidentally found the Thematic Fate Dice Kickstarter and promptly threw behind that, because $28 for 16 dice is a bargain). So far, I like a whole lot of what I see with just a few rough spots.

The reduction in the number of starting Aspects is a Good Thing(tm). I've been head-down with Strands of Fate for a while now (particularly adapting Tribe 8) and I have found that the "Aspect Alphabet" can seem a little too much. Reducing the number, and tying a good many of them to other portions of character creation, seems like it would go a long way toward helping people who get stuck on Aspects. As usual, the advice on Aspects in general is top notch (which is what I'd expect from Evil Hat).

I still have a few reservations about "the phase trio", but I can't really put my finger on them. Since first reading about the concept in Spirit of the Century, I haven't been able to quantify exactly why either. Tying together PCs has always been a sticky point in games, and I've played in plenty where one or more PCs just have no connection to the others and it dragged the entire game down. An alternative beyond the cliche being in the same unit, or being forced to work together, or any other forced relationship between the PCs is awesome. Yet, the Phase Trio seems almost too forced. Phase one is not the problem, it's both Phases Two and Three being crossing paths. I'm thinking I might not enforce it so strictly, but allow for Phase Two (or even Three) to take a step back.

A good example of what I'm talking about is a guy I work with, who we'll call Che (because that's his name). When he started working here we quickly found out that not only were we in Marine Corps Boot Camp at nearly the exact same time (he went in a couple weeks later, so he wound up in the next company over) but we were in the same company in School of Infantry. Mind, there are 4 platoons in a company; we were in the same barracks but different squad bays. We fell out onto the same stretch of parade deck every morning, went to the chow hall at the same time, and did the much of the same training. We had to have rubbed shoulders or exchanged a few words at some point. But neither one of us remember it because I was injured and discharged, and he went on to Desert Storm. Yet we wound up sitting one cubicle away from each other, 20 years later. So I guess the tweak I'm thinking of is having at least Phase Two represent something more vague ("Served in the same company"), and even allowing the order to be mixed up a bit (maybe Phase Two happened first, then Phase One, then Phase Two). This allows for a little more flexibility in accommodating character backgrounds. More than likely the stock method implicitly supports this type of mixing things up, so it's hardly a big deal.

Tomorrow I'll dig deeper into the mechanical workings of character creation and the tweaks that they've made to Fate.

Year of FATE: The Laundry and Exalted

To round out the other games I'd like to be able to tackle this year are two games where I love the settings but not really the system.

The first is The Laundry rpg from Cubicle 7. I have a soft spot for espionage, office humor, and Mythos-related things, and I think the Laundry-verse is perfect for playing in. The only issue is I'm very lukewarm about BRP - it's perfectly functional, but just kind of sits there for me. I would definitely veer toward using FATE for such a game, and incorporate some specific elements to help capture the required feel. One idea I had was using handouts and forms from the sourcebooks as a way to generate FATE points. Get handed a form, fill out, when the player returns it they get a FATE point because you know something is going to happen because of whatever is in the report. The other idea I had was for a zombie parody mission, possibly in the style of the Warm Bodies.

Second, we have Exalted. I loved the first edition setting but wasn't big on the system. This wasn't for lack of trying - I ran both a first edition and a second edition game, but they were such a huge chore I swore off Exalted for a number of years. The announcement of third edition has piqued my interest, but I doubt even a complete system overhaul would encourage me to wade back into the system. Even if I take cues from people who have previously adapted Exalted, it'll still be a lot of work, Since I haven't regularly gamed for a number of years, taking on Exalted too might be a too much. I suppose I could run Tribe 8 and Exalted, and keep the other games in the wings for nights when regular players can't make it.

Year of FATE: The Thief campaign

I've been thinking of the various games I'd like to try to kick off this year, and I've decided I want a handful of FATE games. Aside from running my Strands of Fate version of Tribe 8, I've wanted to do a Thief-style game for a very long time - and playing Dishonored is just adding fuel to the fire. The upcoming FATE Core might be just the thing.

The biggest challenge I see is thief-style characters - for example, Garrett in Thief or Corvo in Dishonored - are generally solitary. Sure, they may have allies or other characters they rely on, but they can't have a large team when they're actually working. A good parallel are netrunners in Cyberpunk. The netruns could take a decent amount of time to resolve, but only the netrunner character's player was involved. To make matters worse, netruns took only seconds or minutes of game time, leaving the other players very little time to have their characters accomplish something else. My thinking for this type of game is each player has a thief as their main character and another secondary character such as a fence, captain of the guard, gang leader, wheelman, guild enforcer, recurring patron, etc. This allows for the player to stay engaged at least part of the time when another player's character is going solo. Like in The Dresden Files the city where the characters are based would be created collaboratively.

Another important element is the feeling of creeping from room to room, avoiding guards, overcoming obstacles, etc. that video games like Thief or Dishonored excel at. Skill rolls alone sound pretty unsatisfactory. Players in either of the two video games who are cautious, observant, and take the time to plan things out typically find getting through a mission much easier. One way to handle this (aside from the Stealth tracks I mentioned in my previous post) it to treat each zone as an adversary that must be defeated. The zones would have Aspects representing things important to or of concern to a thief - lighting, hiding places, sound, visibility, alternate routes, locks, etc. The thief would then have to develop the best strategy to "defeat" each zone. My understanding is that FATE Core may have some elements that would help out with creating the zones as adversaries; even if it doesn't, the FATE fractal would already handle it. If need be specialized rules for "building" locations could be developed easy enough. Similar to city creation, it might be really cool if the other players, beside the player who will be attempting the job or mission. collaborate on creating the location.

So for my "Year of Fate", my second game is definitely going to be Thief/Dishonored inspired. I think it would be a really awesome campaign if done correctly.

Misogyny and Trainwrecks, Pt II

First things first: I'm not going to discuss what people should feel is misogyny or not misogyny. I realize this is dancing around one of the very factors I think causes this kind of disconnect between writers and readers. In the end if someone feels a game, or a book, or a statement is demeaning or otherwise offensive is up to that person - not the subject of their feeling. It is certainly more black and white than that, but I'm leaving that whole aspect alone.

There are very few game products, FATAL and "The Slayer's Guide to Female Gamers" aside, that are openly misogynistic. Instead the potentially demeaning content is often more subtle, and authors find it easy to say, "Well, that's not what we meant" or "That was in character". Even James Desborough - the author of "The Slayer's Guide" - defended his blog post In Defense of Rape as satire, or comedy, or to prove a point. He may have had a real point, too, if it hadn't been buried in defensiveness and the desire to make a point for the sake of it.

Dark Phoenix Publishing's preview of their Lilliana sourcebook doesn't so much have a point as it completely lacks one, which is what makes the statements I highlighted in my last post stand out. This is mostly because the book falls back on "women as sex objects" without adding anything at all to the trope of Vampires as Sex Gods. Being sex objects are the only way they can hold sway over males. To make matters worse, the discussion of the sex is two-dimensional and lacks any meaningful discussion of S&M, bondage, homosexuality, or any other non-vanilla sexual behaviors. Of course the book is prefaced with a warning of  "adult content and material" - in this case, "adult" means "14-year-old-boy." The defense of the preview was it is just a preview (I'm going to start calling this tactic The Rallying Cry of The Perpetual Alpha) and assertions the full product has more depth. To make matters worse, objections to the depiction of the females in the book have been met with more dodging the question, quoting unsubstantiated shadow playtesters about how everything is great, and the odd assertion that everything will be okay if the players aren't doing it wrong (to quote Raquel Looker, the ersatz editor pressed into making a Facebook account just to comment: "Basically, the Liliana can only be as smart as the player. All of the material is there. All the player has to do is use it correctly [emphasis mine]").

My intention wasn't to spend the entire post ragging on Dark Phoenix Publishing, though. I wanted to discuss RPGs that have handled women in a more nuanced, mature manner. Granted, discussing men and women is very likely to turn to sex at some point, especially when the subject is how they interact with each other. Still, maturity isn't turning a roleplaying supplement into softcore porn. Concentrating only on sex misses a whole lot of other story opportunities, and there are a number of games that recognize this and don't pin down the more "sensual" character types as simple gold-diggers or whores.

Tribe 8, from Dream Pod 9, is an excellent example. In general, all of DP9's game lines have dodged the most egregious stereotypes and pitfalls (it might have something to do with their being Canadian). When Tribe 8 was released, it got a little bit of criticism for being a "man-hater" game, most likely  due to confusion with the punk band of the same name. To be sure, there are a lot of strong, female characters in the game - the society is, after all, a matriarchy. What it really boils down to, I think, is there are more strong female characters than most gamers are used to, and not an over abundance of strong female characters in general. Gender roles aren't "reversed" so much as different, and men are neither inferior nor weak.

Tribe 8 even includes a "sexy" Tribe - the Magdalites. From my perspective, Magdalites are handled very well. They are a lot more than sex kittens and bimbos. Sure, sexuality is a large component but they have many more facets. Anything pleasurable is fair game: art, music, conversation, food, emotions, drugs, and even pain. They understand lust is just an empty urge without the accompanying emotions. There has to be some mix of love, hate, jealousy, desire, anger, happiness, sadness, excitement, disappointment. Sometimes those other emotions are far superior to lust, and Magdalites excel in manipulating all of them. Because of this Magdalites have a lot of power within the Tribes. Not because everyone wants to bump uglies with them, but because they serve so many functions: dancers, diplomats, spies, concubines, drug dealers and even assassins.  Of course, there is a very dark side to the Magdalites - addictions of all kinds, the willingness to sacrifice all for the sake of new sensations, and emotional fallout of their power plays. Magdalites can break bonds as easily as they make them, driving friends and lovers apart for nothing more than their darkest secrets. These darkest urges align somewhat with the Z'bri  (the big demonic evil in Tribe 8), who are completely grounded in the physical form and its sensations. In fact, the Magdalites are the diplomats who get sent to secretly trade with the Z'bri.

In the end, any RPG material claiming to be "mature", yet only concentrating on sex (particularly that the only real power women have is through sex), fails to actually be mature. Taking the stance that somehow men are powerless against vaginas doesn't make it any better. It just fulfills the same kind of male sex fantasy as going to a strip club and then going home and masturbating - there's no substance and no real emotion there (for the record, I'm not saying that going to strip clubs is automatically immature - my thoughts on that sort of thing are beyond the scope of this post). It's also very poor material for role playing (or any kind of story telling) because it misses out on a whole spectrum of possibilities.

Cara Gray'on (sample character)

Cara Gray'on is a Joanite Templar from a minor offshoot of the Uhan'on clan. She was a Blade for number of years, serving along the Seven Fingers. While leading a raid on a Serf settlement in the No Man's Land between Vimary and Hl'kar, Cara and her fellow Blades were attacked by Z'bri defending the village. Many of the Joanites died in the first few minutes of the battle, and the survivors sought refuge in a mostly collapsed ruin. Cara defeated a monstrosity made up of the corpses of her Joanite sisters in single combat and,  unlocking an unknown potential for powerful Synthesis, successfully drove back the Melanis Iv'chet leading the defenders. For her devotion and bravery, Joan made Cara a Templar on the spot - an unusual, but not unheard of, move on the Fatima's part. For Cara it was a bittersweet triumph, as her longtime companion Selia was killed in the battle.

Since becoming a Templar, Cara has joined the small number of voices speaking out against Judge Cylix Seth'on and the burgeoning Watch. She believes the creation of the Watch was misguided at best and a blatant power grab at worst. She sees what happened to her in Hl'kar as a symptom of a Nation that is becoming complacent and opening itself up to a large-scale incursion by the Z'bri. Her opposition to the Watch has made her a small number of influential allies in the Grand Council, but also attracted the attention of much more powerful political adversaries in the form of both Cylix Seth'on and Shaman Storm Cry. Of late Cara has noticed that Joanites Blades are disappearing in small numbers - not enough to raise suspicion that it is nothing other than the normal risks Blades take, but still enough to worry her. All of these factors are making it harder and harder for her to ignore her principles when she sees abuse by the Watch or remain silent while Joanite battle readiness deteriorates.

Character Aspects

• Templar of Joan
• Tribal
• Opposes the Watch
• Handpicked by Joan
• "The Z'bri cannot be ignored"
• Blames Herself For Selia's Death

Specialty Aspects

• Joanite (Strength)
• Devotion (Dream)
• Fury (Dream)
• Exceptionally Strong Dreamer (Willpower)
• Blade Blessed By Joan (Resources)
• Many Sisters Within the Blades (Resources)
• Blinded By Principles (Persuasion)

Abilities
Physical: Agility: 2; Endurance: 2; Perception: 2; Strength 3
Mental: Craft: 1; Knowledge: 2; Reasoning: 2; Willpower: 2
Social: Deception: 1; Empathy: 2; Persuasion: 2; Resources: 1
Affinity: Dream: 3

Advantages
Dreamer

Power Advantages:
Synthesis
Rotes:
Battle
Force

Interesting news

On January 1st, Lucien Soulban, Jean Carrieres and Ghislain Barbe are announcing a new project. All three of them are former Dream Pod 9 staffers and have extensive experience in the tabletop rpg industry, as well as video games and entertainment. Lucien Soulban wrote for the Tribe 8 rpg;  Jean Carrieres worked on Heavy Gear, Jovian Chronicles and Tribe 8; Ghislain Barbe was responsible for the distinctive art style in the Dream Pod 9 games. The last time all three of them worked together that I know of was Tribe 8. This doesn't mean that the new project is an rpg, but regardless of what the project is I am very, very intrigued.

Sneaksy

I was finally able to start Dishonored last night. Mental note: when trying to configure a hard drive and a little voice keeps telling me "You've done this before" don't answer, "Yeah, so why isn't this working?" and keep bashing my head against a wall for over an hour. It means you've done this before and there's a drive with Windows installed on it in the desk drawer, already configured, from the last time the SSD died.

Dishonored so far is very much in the same vein as Thief, which makes me pretty happy. Stealth games are typically so much better than regular old FPS frag-fests, and the Thief series is one of my all-time favorites .I would go further and say Dishonored is a perfect bookend for the Thief series (at least until a new one comes out, hopefully next year). I was able to slip right in to Garrett mode, and the guards seemed like old friends, just with different slang and new tunes to whistle. It was liking putting on a nicely worn-in pair of old boots.

One of the things I miss about Thief is the light gem. This one little UI element, indicating how illuminated your character is, helped immensely in remaining stealthy. A few times it even reminded me I still had a weapon drawn ("I'm totally in the dark, why isn't the gem black? Oh, I still have my sword out."). Deus Ex: Human Revolution was able to make up for the lack of a light gem by having augmentations for displaying what direction the enemy is looking and their alertness level. Dishonored has a similar power, called Dark Vision.

Playing video games - especially good ones - makes me think about roleplaying games and how their concepts and subsystems might work in a roleplaying environment. When well done, video games excel at setting tone and mood. I've wanted to run a Thief-like game for a very long time, borrowing stylistic elements and tone, but it's always seemed hard to get the feel right. One concern is the genre wouldn't seem to lend itself well to multiple characters, since they are almost always very solitary. This is hardly a huge deal, and I might tackle it in a later post. But the most important thing is stealth has to be done right - possibly even as a mini-game.

Stress Tracks...Again?

Coming at it from a FATE perspective (specifically, Strands of Fate), my first instinct is, "Stress track!" Our sneaksy characters would have a Stealth custom stress track. I'm thinking it would have stress boxes equal to something like: (Deception + Agility + Other Modifiers) - Size. The character's own actions and movements mark off stress boxes, with Consequences representing miscalculations or other events ranging from "Stepped on a stick" to "Knocked over a box" to "Caught in the open". Stealth stress boxes clear at the end of the scene, but there might be actions which could clear some as well.

As an alternative, or even a counterpart, guards and other characters may have an Alertness stress track to represent how alert they are. An Alertness track is a little trickier, because it runs "backwards". More alert characters would have a smaller track, while distracted or less alert characters would have a larger one. One solution would be to have the track start at a fixed value - let's say 6, but it could possibly vary by the quality of the guard - and subtract Perception plus any other modifiers. Consequences would reflect increased levels of alertness, from "I think I heard something" to "I should check that out" to "Raise the alarm!". Like the Stealth track, Alertness Consequences would clear over time or after performing specific actions. For both Stealth and Alertness, various Edges and Determinations can be set to represent specialized equipment or the mental state of the stealth character or the guards (setting up the classic situation where the guard is always trying to catch the thief).

These ideas, or something similar, combined together could create a mini-game where stealth is the focus of the action, almost like "stealth combat".

Zones

The final consideration for a stealth-centered game is how zones are set up. By necessity the map would look a lot different than one set up for a swashbuckling fight or a shoot out. It would probably outline zones of various light levels, little or lots of cover, or alternate routes such as overhead or underneath an area, etc. Aspects like Intermittent Light or Hard Metal Floor or Soft Carpeting would round out a good stealth zone map. Combined with some stealth track and some alert guards, this looks like a promising framework for all of the sneaksy stuff I'd need in an rpg.

Sins of the Sister, Part 2

I had no sooner sent an initiate to bring some mulled wine, when Nostra Guy'on appeared in the doorway of my chamber. His Templar bodyguards were not with him, but I thought there was someone standing in the shadows outside the doorway. Dressed in a long, simple robe Nostra Guy'on looked more a tired old man than a Grand Councilor. He unarmed - not that he needed a weapon. His weapons were power and his armor subterfuge, and he used them with a deftness unmatched by any Dahlian or Magdalite.

"You know why I am here."

"The boy," I responded.

"He is secure here in the Tower?"

"Yes, he is in a cell awaiting an Inquisitor." My throat tightened around the word.

"And the others?"

"The girl was found and turned over to the Red Gaol, who will deal with her. The boys will attend to me, until such a time as Joan deems all of them fit for the Arena." I paused for a moment, carefully choosing my words. "Not to disrespect, Elder, but I don't think you came here to check on an imprisoned halfwit and a handful of derelicts."

Nostra worked his nearly toothless gums for a moment, his eyes dark and cold. "Your actions have placed us in a difficult position. Shaman Storm Cry was disrespected, gravely so, and you acted against his - and the Council's - authority."

"But Joan spoke through me. Her will..."

"Do not confuse Joan working through you with knowing Her will. Joan seldom speaks, much less through her Templars. It is not surprising you would be a little confused."

His words stung like a slap in the face. I knew what I had experienced, what Joan had said through me, and there was no mistake. "That cannot be. I felt her anger and her frustration. We have had so much taken from us...Vimary stands half-defended our fate has been placed in the hands of others? Joan is..."

"Enough!" Nostra snapped, then sighed deeply. "The Beasts' backs were broken when Joshua slew Tibor. That was nearly three generations ago, they are no more than shadows on the wall now. Darker forces are at work within the Nation, but you and the other crusaders fail to see it. You want to stand on a watchtower," he motioned skyward with his hands. "Ever vigilant for a threat that has long since been cowed by the Fatimas' power...even if it means the rest of the Tribes fall into degeneracy behind you. The Tribe of Joan must stand with all of the Tribes, for the purity of all of the Tribes. That is Joan's Will." He pinched the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger, looking at me through hooded eyes. "That is why you will do as I say or I will throw you to the Beasts myself, since you seem to prefer their company to your own kind."

I silently nodded my capitulation. He gestured and the person outside the doorway stepped into the light. She was short and slender, covered completely in a burial shroud of black muslin. "This is Den'a. She is a Sin Eater."

I tried to speak, but the words stuck. The Yagan Sisterhoods were secretive, but the Sin Eaters made them look like an Evan gossip circle. Stories about Sin Eaters were the kind repeated only in hushed tones: they had transformed themselves into wights, struck pacts with the Z'bri, or were responsible for Zom attacks. I found myself suddenly wishing for the wine.

Den'a unwrapped the layers of fabric concealing her features and I was surprised to see a beautiful young woman instead of a wizened crone. Her face was round, the death mask tattoo contrasting with her bone white hair and pale skin. The tattoo was unlike any I had seen before, shifting subtly in the shadows cast by the firelight, coalescing into another visage...Nyeda. A chill ran through me. Mercifully she looked away slightly so I would not have to avert my own gaze.

"At dawn, you will accompany Den'a, the boy, and the three young Joanites to Mortuary. You will do exactly as Den'a asks of you. You will tell no one that you are going or of what transpires afterward, upon pain of Banishment or worse. This is the decree of the Grand Council and the Fatimas' will." He rose from the chair slowly and left without another word, Den'a following close behind. She glanced back at me before disappearing into the darkness, her eyes sympathetic.

I sat on the edge of my bed for a very long time, staring into the darkness beyond the doorway. The shadows moved, forming shapes the flowed into one another before they could become anything recognizable. I knew whatever awaited Robbo in Mortuary would change his life. Naively I failed to see it would change mine as well. With the weight of the day pressing down on me, I silently began my preparations for the next.

So no Dishonored for me

At least until I get Windows re-installed on my secondary drive. This is the second SSD I've had fail - both OCZ Vertex 2s. I guess they're not the most reliable things on the planet, as the first lasted about 14 months before it croaked and the replacement lasted about 2 1/2 months. I love the speed of an SSD, but the cautionary tale here is the extra $100 or whatever that's saved by going with a cheaper brand is more than compensated for by the flakiness of the drive. Meanwhile, the secondary drive that will get pressed into service is a Western Digital SATA drive that must be well over 6 years old. It's slow, and noisy, but perfectly serviceable. When I get the new SSD back, I'm not even going to put it back in as the system drive. I'll wait until I can get a newer, more reliable drive and even then I might have second thoughts.

EDIT: OCZ responded back and said they would upgrade the drive, most likely a Vertex 3. I asked if they could make it a V4, because I know several people who have them and haven't had any issues.

Sins of the Sister, Part 1

From the confession of Cara Gray'on:

It began with three members of the Watch - two boys and a girl - beating a boy in the street. Tensions between the Watch and the Templars had forced me to turn a blind eye to these sights more often than not, but this time I knew something was terribly wrong. Maybe it was because the figure on the ground just lay there, not crying out. Perhaps it was the expressions of the small crowd that had gathered, standing between the cobbled together merchant stalls or overhead on the bridges between the upper levels of the crumbling sky towers.

"What exactly is going on here?" I said, my voice echoing off the stone buildings around us.

Two of the them looked up at me, eyes widening when they saw I was a Templar, and clumsily stopped mid-blow or kick. The third was so focused on kicking the person on the ground, the girl had to grab his arm and pull him away.

"He...he killed a Joanite Blade..." The girl said in a quavering voice. She couldn't have seen more than 16 summers, barely old enough to raise a sword.

It was then I saw the Joanite laying face down just a few paces away, blood slowly seeping from underneath her body into the dirt. Her sword was sheathed and a bloodied blade rested on the ground nearby. I looked down at the crumpled form of her alleged attacker expecting to see a Squat or perhaps one of the Fallen. To my surprise I saw Robbo.

Robbo was a simpleton, the son of an Evan family living just outside of Bazaar. Evans put disfigured children to death, as was the custom of all of the Tribes, but sometimes it took a few summers for any problems to become obvious. Children able to work were spared. Robbo was one of those children, incredibly strong and hearty but unable to speak and only able to understand the simplest commands. Instead of an ox, his mother had him draw a wagon full of crops and other provisions to Bazaar so she could barter for other goods. His mother was harsh with him but not cruel, and Robbo always had a smile for everyone and everything. Many were uncomfortable around him despite his kind and gentle spirit. The few words he spoke were always prophecies of death and ill-fortune. Despite this, until that morning he had always seemed harmless.

"Who is this?" I asked, taking a step toward the Joanite lying on the ground. I know this armor, I thought. Please, don't let it be her.

"We...we do not know." The girl answered, lowering her eyes to avoid my gaze.

Of course she wouldn't know. Both of us were from the Tribe of Joan, but lived in different worlds. I stood tall in full armor adorned with medallions, prayer strips and inscribed sigils, a sword blessed by Joan herself at my side. The three children wore ill-fitting leather jerkins and bore weapons hardly suitable for training, much less common use. They had never faced Squat savages or fetid unholy monstrosities made of the corpses of their own brethren. Such things were little more than fables to them. Their enemies were thieves, miscreants, political opponents, undesirables.

I knelt down next to the woman and slowly turned her over. My stomach tightened as I brushed the hair from her face. Oh Nyeda, what could have happened? I thought. Last I heard she had been on the Seven Fingers planning a raid into No Man's Land. What business did she have in Bazaar? Clearly she was taken unawares. The blade had penetrated her plate and shattered and shattered the mail underneath. Robbo certainly had the strength to do this, but where he would have gotten a sword or even known how to use it? I placed two fingers to my lips and then to hers before standing.

"Did you see the boy do this?" I asked, my back still to the three of them.

"N...no..." the girl replied.

"We came when that merchant called for the Watch," one of the boys said, his voice more confident than hers. "He was kneeling beside her. The merchant said he had done it."

"Did he threaten you?"

"No, he was on the ground, sitting beside her..." I could hear the puzzlement in his voice.

"So you began beating a simpleton, on the word of another?"

"It...it is our duty as the Watch..."

Anger and grief washing over me, and I nearly lost control. The River of Dream responded to the rush of emotions, rippling the air around me like an invisible flame. All three of the youths stepped backward in fear. The youngest boy began to shake uncontrollably, a wet spot growing on his breeches.

"It is your duty to watch." I shook my head, trying to clear any rash thoughts before they became something more. "You three are but children...we may as well let Agnites keep the peace. Were you even intending to arrest him? Question him?  Or were you content with just killing him and denying Joan the right to justice?" None would meet my gaze. Robbo remained curled up on the ground, his arms wrapped tightly around his head, not making a sound. He was still breathing, at least for the moment.

The confrontation had attracted a larger audience and more attention. Two large Joanites pushed through the front ranks, followed closely by a rotund Evan man. He strode forward purposefully, a multitude of beaks and claws clattering against his raptor skull topped staff, a feathered cloak marking his station as Shaman of Eva. Shaman Storm Cry.

"Storm Cry," I said dryly, rising to my feet. He huffed from exertion and scowled at me, dabbing at his face with a finely woven cloth. Even with the morning chill, sweat glistened on his bald head. My disdain for him and his political maneuverings were extremely well known. He and the the Tera Sheban Judge Cylix Seth'on were turning the Watch into their own private army of thugs. An Evan, no matter how powerful, had no right meddling in the affairs of Joan.

"Please tell me you have not interfered with the Watch performing their duty, Cara Gray'on," He said. "What is going on here?"

"The only thing I interfered with was your breakfast, Shaman," I replied. He was a hand shorter than me, but outweighed me by at least ten stone. "I merely stopped these three from beating this boy to death."

He ignored the jibe and looked down at Robbo with obvious disgust. "What was his crime?"

"I see no crops or livestock here. His crime was against Joan, not Eva."

"This is a matter for the Watch," Storm Cry admonished me. His tone made the blood rush to my cheeks. "Now you," he pointed to the girl. "Tell me what happened."

"A merchant called out for the Watch. When...when we arrived we found this Joanite dead, and this boy next to her. There is a sword..."

"And then what happened?"

"They started beating him," I interjected.

"It is the Watch's duty to keep the peace. If they witnessed this boy strike down one of Joan's Chosen warriors..."

"We..we didn't..." The girl looked close to tears, glancing furtively between the two of us. Her resolve was beginning to crumble as the situation sunk in.

"None of them actually saw the attack take place," I said. "Nyeda Morth'on was a daughter of Joan. Judgement on her murderer shall be passed by Tera Sheba, and no other, as is Joan's right and Her will. I have more standing in this matter than you, Shaman. No Joanite will betray honor or oath by taking the Law into their own hands."

Storm Cry raised his voice, making sure all could hear him. "Her attacker could have been Fallen, and there may be more of them! The Watch must ensure the safety of everyone!" I made note of the two fully armed and armored Joanite warriors standing behind him. Luther'ons, both of them. The Luther'on clan was prominent and intensely steadfast in their allegiance to the Watch. Regardless they were still Joanites, and I was still their Templar.

I was about to respond when a woman, sobbing uncontrollably, freed herself from the crowd and ran toward us. I was sure it was Robbo's mother. One of the Luther'ons lunged forward, knocking her to the ground with the pommel of his sword and bringing the tip of the blade to the back of her neck. It must have been too much for the young girl, who screamed and fled down the street without looking back. The second Luther'on drew his sword and started to run after her. The crowd erupted into cries of panic and anger, and the situation looked as if it would spiral out of control.

I yelled "NO!" and mentally opened the floodgate to the River Dream. A torrent of Synthesis rippled down my arm, my sword leaping from its scabbard like a silver fish. The flat of the blade caught the first Luther'on square across the chest with a thunderous clap, throwing him back a good twenty paces. I thrust my other arm toward the second Joanite, palm outward. The warrior slammed into the ground hard enough to knock the wind out of him. Everything and everyone froze, the only sound Robbo's mother softly sobbing. The boy remained perfectly still, but for the briefest moment I swore I saw Nyeda stir.

"How dare you strike my personal guard? Arrest her, NOW!" Storm Cry roared. Both Luther'ons remained on the ground, dazed. The two remaining Watch backed away from me, their eyes white with fear. Stymied, Storm Cry stammered, his voice shrill. "I...I..will have you Banished for this insolence! All of you!"

I returned my sword to its scabbard, feeling disconnected and distant after the release of Synthesis. Conflict rippled through the River, opening a conduit to Joan, and Her will rose within me. "The Daughters of Joan are not yours, Shaman Storm Cry. Your hubris has gone too far. You may be Eva's Chosen, but Cara Gray'on is my Arm and my Blade. I will strike down your lapdogs where they stand should they be dishonored."  My mouth formed the words, but Joan's voice echoed off the buildings.

"You will regret this." His voice trembled, defiant even in the face of Joan's voice. "You do not know..."

"ENOUGH! Your business is done here." The sun broke through the clouds, creating swirling wings of shadow around me that lengthened to darken Storm Cry's face. "The boy will return to the Watchtower, and you will go back to Sanctuary until Tera Sheba has words with Eva about this." Without another word Storm Cry walked away, shoving his way through the crowd. His Fatima had not come to his aid; Eva obviously had deferred to Joan in the matter. Joan left me as soon as she had come, and it was all I could do to keep from falling to my knees.

"Thank you, Templar," Robbo's mother choked out between sobs. She was kneeling on the ground near Robbo, her head down. A tiny drop of blood blossomed on her neck where the blade's point had touched it. I felt sorrow for her, but no remorse for what I needed to do.

"Return to your village," I said quietly. "Robbo's fate is in Tera Sheba's hands now."

She looked up at me, her mouth twisted in a wordless cry of anguish as she shook her head, then buried her face in her hands. I motioned to two Evans standing at the front of the crowd, who gently helped her up and led  her away. The crowd had already begun to disperse, murmuring about what they had just witnessed. By nightfall word would spread throughout all of Vimary, if not further.

"You," I said, motioning to the boys and the Luther'ons. "Find a cart, so we can get Nyeda and this boy back to Joan's Tower."

Vimary Zones and Locations

Finally, I completed my write-up of various zones and locations from Vimary. More accurately, I decided to not include Distance stress tracks for the locations. My intention is still to use them, but they a) were a pain to write up and b) I'm actually thinking they shouldn't be set in stone. It's probably a lot better to set Distance stress tracks depending on the journey, time of year, and other circumstances so that they can be varied for each trip (or ignored completely if need be). Anyway, without further ado you can grab the document below. An updated Vimary zone map will soon follow.

Vimary Zones and Locations

Took a little break

Between vacation, end of summer type stuff, computer issues, work, kids going back to school, etc. I haven't had as much time to update things. I am still working on details of the Vimary zone map. Plus, I have some original short fiction that I'm working on that will get posted at some point.

In the meantime, here's a pretty awesome gallery of post-apocalyptic images. Below is one of my favorite pictures out of the dozen that are up.

Juniper's Journals: Final Entry

Entry 23

There are a few things in life that strike me as strange or amazing. After all, the world we live in is fraught with perilous and wonderful effects. However, nothing came as strangely to me as the events which unfolded over the past few days. Listen closely to my words, for I fear that they will be the last you may hear. Much has changed and there is nothing you or I can do to make things as they were. Maybe that's where we went wrong in the first place. Rather than taking the challenges that confronted us with the hopes of attaining something new, we struggled to recreate that thing we could never have. The solace of belonging to an established order or a set of traditions, to have a home to awaken to and family to guide our mistakes. We are on a new road now, one that I fear may lead us to our ultimate demise. But you know what they say. . . "Blood and Sacrifice."

The River Dreamers met us at the river's edge, their boats ready to transport us to Bazaar. Our plan was to contact Daryck in the hopes that he would shed some light on what was to come. We also had to tell him that there was a face behind the Clinic and its evil. A face that belonged to Cylix Seth'on!

The trip was uneventful and we maintained a certain silence. We were free of the dangers from the Yagan Flesher Assassin, at least for a little while. The manner in which she was dispatched still held me with awe, but I was more curious to learn of Raven than fear him, as I sensed the others did. By the time we reached the Sunken City, it was very dark and the city was shadowed under the moonless night.

There were more River Dreamers with us on this journey, than before. People we hadn't met. There was a tall, gangly fellow and a shorter stalky one as well. We didn't chat much, but they seemed nice enough. They offered us assistance in our duties, but as usual, we declined their offer. We parted ways: us on a secret visit with a member of the Watch, and them, on an innocent task of gathering supplies and trade goods. We didn't know it then, but we wouldn't be parted for long.

We reached the fountain that was near the entrance to the underground tunnels. We had traveled it so many times before and foolishly felt comfortable in our wanderings. It is always unwise to expect things to be as they were when you were last there. If Dahlia left us with one lesson, it should have been that change is always occurring when you least expect it.

The hall was dark and we hadn't brought with us any torches. Cinder made use of her Eminence of Shadow to consolidate the black ink into pools, leaving a faded light in its absence. Unfortunately, her Synthesis was weak and as the darkness regrouped and overlapped onto itself, we were left without any means with which to see. It was the opportune time for the beast to strike.

We heard it first, a slight hissing noise, followed by a dull clicking sound. We backed against each other, creating a defended circle. There was a deep resonating sound in my head as my blood ran at the pace of melting ice on a hot summers day. My breath was rasping in my throat and true fear grasped me with its unflinching hold. My knuckles turned white as I tightened my grip around my staff. Then, a flash as Cinder created an illusional flare that pervaded the hall.

I saw a glimpse of it as the light reflected off of its eyes. It was long and lithe., like a weasel or ferret. Except it was larger than a man and had a cunning look about it. One that held intelligence.

" The illusion won't last, I can feel it waning," said Cinder.

" Let's get out of here, we are at a loss in the darkness!"

" No, we have to go on..."

" We don't have a choice, we are ill prepared. Let's turn back."

" I hear it. Cinder! Bring back the light!"

I heard a rush as it struck at the air. Mana managed to glance her sword in the arc of its attack, deflecting a blow that was meant to sever life and limb. The River of Dream exploded in a flurry of activity as we all drew upon desperate means to save our lives. Chaos ensued as we stumbled in the darkness, undecided as to which direction led to safety and which direction led to our deaths.

There was a scream and Chigger was torn from my arms before I could secure my grip. Cinder cried out for her sister and ran off into the depths of the tunnel. Mana grabbed me and pulled me in the other direction. Bastion took a hold of my loose arm and we escaped from the beast that stalked us. Except now, we were short another member of our cell.

Cinder came back to us after Bastion retrieved her, a torch lighting his way. We sat in silence in the Emporium, trying not to think of what the beast was doing to our lost companion. Cinder was quiet.

" What should we do?"

" There is nothing we can do. It is at an advantage in the darkness. We can't find it now. We have to leave."

" We can't just leave. We have to try. . ."

" We've risked ourselves before trying to rescue others of our group. Where has it gotten us? Remember what Mek said. . ."

" We went back for you, didn't we?"

" You put me there!"

" What are you guys doing here?"

It was Meg and the River Dreamers.

" Nothing, we're fine."

" Where's Chigger? Are you okay, Cinder?"

What were we to do. I felt that Eshlazi was toying with us again. He had likely sent a chained to gather and kidnap us again, so he could place new tethers upon us. What if the River Dreamers began to suspect our dealings. We would be as good as dead.

" She's gone. We're okay."

" What do you mean she's gone? Where did she go?"

" We encountered something in the tunnels. It took her."

" Well we have to get her back. Time's running out. Let's go, what are you guys waiting for. . .she's one of your own!"

" We can't. . .take you with us. There are things you would be better not to know. We'll go, but we go alone. I can't say anything more than that. She's my sister, and we'll do what needs to be done. Thank you..."

Silence.

" Let us go. We have done what we can. There are unseen and mysterious things taking place here. Let us go."

They left and I blamed myself. They should have helped us. We were more willing to accommodate a son of a Jo'Han than those with a more noble purpose. They would never trust us as they did. We had made a grave error at that moment in not accepting their offer to help save Chigger. An error I was destined to rectify.

The voice that spoke to Cinder was enticing. It told us where her sister was in the endless catacombs. We were guided right to her. Whoever it was that spoke to Cinder never showed themselves, but I had my suspicions. Were we going to walk blindly into a debt to further the evil that stalked us? We were playing a grand and dangerous game in which we were the pieces and the foul demons the players. My rope was wearing thin. I wasn't going to use it to tie my own noose.

Chigger was in good health. The beast apparently let her go after trapping her in its lair. She made up some wild stories about how she used flames to scare it away and how she chased it down a tight hole leading from its feeding grounds. The lies were steep and covered in half-truths and self delusion. I pitied her.

We went to a small merchants booth, as it was early morning, and managed to bribe some food and drink from his stall. The meeting wasn't going to take place and with Chigger safe and partially sound, it was time for some rest. As we sat and discussed certain matters, I questioned Cinder about the voice that guided her towards helping us find her sister.

" It's still with us."

" It helped save her. That's good enough."

" It's not. We are toying with something that's beyond our control. When will we be self reliant? When will we be able to function without it?"

" It saved me, whatever it was. You better not forget that."

" Saved you from a situation it placed you in."

" But saved me none the less. We should reconsider seeing if it will help us. . ."

" No! Never!"

" Listen to yourself, Juniper! You're scared of what it may do, that it may permanently harm you. But we saw things. It wants to help and it may be the only thing we have that can stop the evil that's taking place in the Tribes. Crimes against our people and our freedom. We may be making the biggest mistake at presuming it will help us at little cost to ourselves, but what else do we have? What else can we lose before it's too late?"

" Everything! Our souls, our lives, our minds, our freedom, everything! You want to take all of your chances and throw them away to some creature that cares little if you live or die. You would turn away the only friends we have in the hopes of covering up some scheme that involves the beast we hate, and with good reason to do so. There are so many ways for us to resolve our difficulties but, an alliance with the minion of the seed. . .that is something I cannot do"

" Face it, you can't believe that it loved Bastion. . ."

" That's another issue entirely . . ."

" No, it's not. You hate Bastion. Look at yourself. It's in your eyes, even as you say you don't. You hated him from the day you found out and you hate him still. He will never be forgiven in your eyes, even if you say you do. He is guilty for what he is, just as you think Eshlazi is to be punished for what he cannot change. Look at us. People persecute us for what we are, yet we know we are different than what they perceive. We aren't evil, Juniper. We're real, with feelings and hopes and mistakes and. . ."

" Aren't we. . .evil, that is? We who discuss making terms with the devil. I'll hear not another word. If you risk your soul, you do it on your own."

I rose from my chair and waited to see who would stand with me. Mana rose from her chair and I looked at her.

Silence.

" Fine! Fuck off, Juniper! Fuck off, all of you! You're all cowards and unworthy of leading us out of the hell we call home. Get out, I don't want to see your faces anymore. Get out!"

Mana and I left for the last time. I'll never forget the look of anger on Chigger's face that day. Poor child.

Juniper's Journals: Reconciliation

Entry 21

Cinder returned without Bastion and I was half expecting that he had left to rejoin his evil beast of a father. Unfortunately that wasn't the case. She said he was sorry he had dragged all of us through the horrors Eshlazi had to offer, but that he was willing to help us avoid any further manipulations from the Jo'Han because he loved Cinder and Cinder loved us. I didn't like it. It was too easy. He couldn't expect that we would just forgive him after everything he did. Besides, he was a Z'Bri sympathizer! Past loyalties aside, now knowing that he was actually, for the majority of his life, under the influence of such a creature had massive repercussions. Despite the odds stacked against him, Cinder defended him. So did Chigger. They said that in their experience before, he had sacrificed himself to save us and that he never told anyone what he had planned. I said if he was really sorry for what he had done to us, he would do it again to prove that it was true. Cinder said she wouldn't let him die. She had seen it once and didn't want to see it again. She trusted in her vision and refused to have Bastion carry out the ritual necessary for him to take the Spear. We argued for a long time.

I was really hoping for Mana to back me up, but she maintained her silence. I could have really used her then. I miss her voice. Anyway, I finally came up with an idea. I told Cinder to go get Bastion, and if he swore on his love for her that he would never do anything to betray us and to use his role as Eshlazi's son to get Slash back, then I would accept him, but with one condition. He was never to make any mistakes or actions against us. If he did, I would do everything in my power to destroy him and whatever he stood for. I mean, he wasn't even a true member of our cell. He didn't have the tattoo of our symbol and never took part in any of the rituals that made us a single unit. He was basically just Cinder's slimy, backstabbing boyfriend!

Cinder half agreed with my bargain, but she said she felt like she was betraying his trust and their relationship. I said I didn't give a shit, and if he wasn't willing or ready to give up his loyalties to his father then he was as good as dead. Cinder went to go get him from the main level of the Shelter.

While she was gone, Chigger asked me if I would really forgive him or not. I told her that she was the one who had the vision. All of this was completely shocking for me and Mana. I never actually experienced any of what she said. I never went with them to the Hive, Eshlazi wasn't dead, Bastion wasn't dead, Chigger never became a man and had her real body die, and the Squats never attacked the island! The girls never even went anywhere, so how could they have lived so many fanatastic things in almost no time at all? She couldn't expect me to instantly understand. I didn't even know if I would forgive Bastion, whether he decided to agree with my bargain or not. I just didn't know!

Cinder came in with him shortly after and it took all of my will to keep from jumping at him in a screaming torrent of rage. I was so pent up with anger I felt I would explode. Bastion said all of the typical things I would think a traitor would say. Stuff like , "I'm sorry, I never meant to hurt any of you," and, " I'll do whatever it takes to gain your trust," and, " I'll protect you from Eshlazi as long as you give me a chance!" That sort of hogwash.

He said he promised that Eshlazi would leave us alone as long as we promised that Cinder wouldn't use the Spear. He said as long as Eshlazi knows that we have the means to destroy him, he wouldn't be a threat. Bastion also stated he would force Eshlazi to let Slash go or we could attack the Hive with whatever we wanted. Inside I knew they were false promises. There was no way Bastion was going to let Cinder die in trying to kill his father. He was getting the easy way out. By threatening his father with our weapon, he was saving both Cinder and Eshlazi, and getting the trust of my friends. We started arguing over the proposition Bastion put forth.

I was saying that the Yagan Assassin was going to kill any one of us because we stole the Spear from them and murdered a bunch of them in trying to get it. If we didn't use it, we were going to die anyway. Also, Chigger pointed out that Eshlazi had done evil things and was going to continue to do evil things unless we stopped him. I agreed with her remarks but she went one step further. She said if we could threaten Eshlazi with the Spear, then we may be able to alleviate our Yagan problem with his help! I was appalled. Chigger was suggesting that we make a loose alliance with Eshlazi based on blackmail! I yelled out my opposition to her suggestion. It was bad enough that we were letting a Z'Bri raised child live, but allying ourselves with a Z'Bri itself seemed ridiculous, Yagan Assassin threat or not! Of course Bastion spoke in her support. I knew it. He was still loyal to the beast.

Bastion started speaking about how Eshlazi was trying to learn how to love. He said Eshlazi didn't understand how some death was good and deserved while others were considered murder. He went on and explained that the Z'Bri lacked an understanding about what made some sex pure and joyful, while other times, the same actions were considered perverse and immoral. He capped off by suggesting that of all of the Z'Bri, they mainly didn't care to uncover why we drew boundaries about these things, but Eshlazi did. Eshlazi wanted to learn to love and understand what made us human!

Bastion said a long time ago, Eshlazi was learning to take care of kittens. That he was attempting to understand how to nurture instead of kill. How to have emotions for a creature that weren't twisted and resulted in the creature's death or basic ill health. Bastion said Eshlazi was learning with kittens in order to transfer his knowledge to humans when he felt it was ready. Chigger clicked two and two together and realized that Tulka, the Joanite she had become in her visions, was the Templar who was trying to save Eshlazi!

The thought seemed ridiculous to me. Could a Z'Bri be saved? Could the beasts overcome their basic nature? Did Eshlazi want to become like the Nomads of Legend? Were we stupid to even think such a thing, and if so were we even more foolish to consider attempting it?

I sure thought so, but some of the others didn't. Chigger seemed all for the idea. Mana was indifferent,while Bastion, well that's obvious. Cinder seemed hesitant to agree. She suggested the risk to us was far too great. Not only for the sake of our souls, but also because of the threat from those who may find out. Hell, even thinking such a thing was grounds for death.

I left the room. I needed some air, and I wasn't certain if I wanted to hear anymore. I wish it was never brought up. Why couldn't Cinder just love someone else? Why couldn't I just walk away? I went downstairs by myself and cried.

Juniper's Journals: The Assassin's Assassin

Entry 22

Chigger came down to see how I was doing. She came up behind me and said she was sorry.

" I just don't want to keep anymore secrets, that's all." she said.

" How could you think such a thing? Eshlazi is everything that we hate and now you're talking about becoming its friend?! I don't want to do that . . . we could be killed for even thinking such a thing."

" I know, but we know what's right. We have to do what we feel is going to work and this is our one chance . . ."

" I don't want to talk about it. Let's see if Mari-Anne can lend some truth to your vision. Maybe then I'll know what you mean."

We left the common room of the Shelter and went to see if Mari-Anne was available. She joined us in the room Chigger was staying in. I didn't look at Bastion. . .I couldn't.

Mari-Anne was surprised that we knew so much information about events from before we were born. She seemed shocked and I almost thought she wasn't going to tell us anything, but she did. She didn't often speak about times before her banishment and I could tell she was uncomfortable with our questions.

" What you have said is true. Monika did have a father named Tulka and he loved her more than life itself. Unfortunately he made some powerful enemies and was banished shortly after the vote went through to stop any further Crusades. A lot of people blamed him that he was the cause of it all. His enemies, members of the Grand Council, accused him of being in league with the Z'Bri. I myself became disheartened that such a bold and honored warrior could be condemned by his own people. It was a factor that pushed me towards leaving as well. His daughter was taken in by a man named Cylix Seth'on. I never saw her after that. Something I still regret, as I cared for her as my own.

As far as Tulka's wife is concerned, she was said to have disappeared a few years after hearing of her husband's banishment. She learned that he was sacrificed in the Circle of the Chosen. What happened to her is a mystery. Some said she fled to the Outlands. Only the goddess can say for sure.

"So the Crusades ended. The last one was seven years before the final vote that you witnessed and was nearing its completion. I believe it was the Year of the Eagle. I miss those days. Days when the Watch stood for something besides the persecution of the Fallen and the condemnation of their fellow people. They started out as protectors, but now they're just wardens to a prison called Vimary!"

We listened for quite some time as Mari-Anne continued her tale. It made Chigger and Cinders' vision real. They actually did experience some things that happened, but why them? Only time would tell.

After Mari-Anne left we decided we needed to get rid of the Yagan Assassin problem. We didn't know how we were going to do that, but we had a fairly good idea of where to start.

On the way to Mek's one of the Dorks approached us and Chigger told him everything! Why would she do such a stupid thing? She told him all about the Mortuary Massacre and that if he or any of the other Dorks saw someone strange approach us, they were to make lots of noise and warn us. Sounded lame to me, but Chigger's got a big mouth anyhow. Why not just tell the whole world that we have a price on our heads? What an idiot!

When we got to Mek's training halls, he told us a little bit more about the past. He said Tulka almost single handedly removed any hopes of another Crusade. He said Tulka was a Z'Bri sympathizer and so no one was willing to support a cause that was leading to our strongest warriors being tainted. Mek didn't speak well of him. He did say that there were some who were opposing the Old Guard and were fighting to give new life to the Crusades. He seemed quite interested in the current events and I almost thought he was thinking of joining the Joanites if they did manage to start it all up again! I suppose he needed to fight, it was in his blood. We also asked him about what we could do about the Yagan Assassin. Mek looked at us seriously as he continued to sharpen a set of new blades. "You guys have a Yagan Assassin after you? Why? Were you the ones behind the Mortuary Massacre?" he let out a chuckle.

" Yes!" we replied.

He looked at us with a sad expression. " You're in big trouble. Yagan Assassins are a difficult lot to deal with. The only thing I can say is, keep it hush! Don't tell anyone and don't sleep. . . for the rest of your lives!"

Okay, we were in BIG trouble. Mek had no real advice. Oh shit . . . the Dorks! Chigger told those little blabber mouths and now all of Hom probably knew. We had to stop them. We ran to Junks.

* * *

When we got there, the whole room looked at us. I saw the Dorks and they came up to us. They said they warned everyone to help us out! Great! We went outside and told them to go hide and keep it a secret. As we watched them leave, a rough voice greeted us from behind." I hear you have an Assassin problem!"

" No, it's just a joke . . . you know Agnites and Dahlians, we're always joking! Hah! Hah!"

" Too bad, I heard about you guys killing a bunch Yagans at Mortuary. I like your style . . . if it were true. I could use people like you. If you promise to help me and my cell out, I could take care of your impending deaths!" he gave us a cracked smile.

" Sorry if we don't trust you, but we've been betrayed in the past. Who are you?"

" I'm Raven. If you let us take care of this for you, you help me later on. You've got nothing to lose, you're dead already."

"Okay!" we said.

" First, get rid of the kids."

We called the Dorks out of their hiding spots and gave them some crappy pretend assignment. We said we needed them to keep an eye out at the docks on the east side of Hom. They left.

" Hrmmph, I would have just killed them." Raven said as he walked away.

We all looked at each other in disbelief. Was he serious?

* * *

We were on our way back to Junks after picking up our things at the Shelter. We were going to meet the River Dreamers who had offered to give us a ride to Bazaar in their boats. That's when it happened.All of our torches went out and a shadow descended upon us with the swiftness of the wind.

Mana managed to deflect the initial blow and as the Assassin flipped to reset herself, a flurry of crossbow bolts came from a nearby alleyway. The Assassin stopped mid-flight and fell to the ground with a thud. A man with a long moustache stepped nonchalantly from the darkness and was reloading his repeater crossbow. Raven entered the street as well. " Good work, Mick!" he said. " Remember, now you owe us a favor." They walked away and we stood there with our mouths hanging open!