[Dying Earth] Actual Play

[gentrification]

In the interest of promoting greater understanding of and enthusiasm for the <b>Dying Earth</b> RPG, I offer this humble session write-up for your consideration. Much of the scenario was drawn from material in the <i>Scaum Valley Gazetteer</i>, and embellished here and there with my own invention.

The Players

<b>Simon the Lavender</b> - general layabout and dabbler in magic. His outfit comprises a loose-fitting lavender shirt over plain leggings, fingerless gloves, knee-high purple boots, a lavender cloak, and a lavender floppy hat. Although Simon is completely bald, he has sewn two moppy tufts of bright red hair into the lining of his hat, which disguises his condition but clashes oddly with his thick, black, muttonchop sideburns.

<b>Bort</b> - destitute nobility from a faraway kingdom no one's ever heard of. Bort sports a puffy peasant blouse over a sheath skirt with a long train, soft slippers with expandable soles (a less utilitarian version of lamplighter boots, suitable only for stepping over puddles and other such conveniences), a fitted, fur-trimmed coat, and a two-tiered hat that serves as a nest for a living miniature peacock. Her left eye is a faceted jewel of fine calibre, a family heirloom and indicator of her noble status. She would hock it in a pinch.

The NPCs

<b>Maurlperle</b> - captain of the riverboat <i>Gumper Shee</i>.
<b>Porbal</b> - leader of a cult of mendicant monks on pilgrimage to Kaiin.
<b>Bosslem</b> - corpulent travelling merchant, purveyor of fine ivory tableware.
<b>Widdloe</b> - proprietor of the finest -- and indeed the only -- public eating house in Osier.
<b>Snook</b> - one of Widdloe's ambitiously nubile daughters.

Several other named and statted NPCs were present, but they did not end up playing a major part in the players' schemes; capricious fate passed them by.

The Setup

At the start of the game, Simon and Bort are travelling aboard the <i>Gumper Shee</i>, having spent the last of their meager terces on passage to Kaiin, in the hopes of making their respective fortunes there. However, after picking up a mysterious cargo in Azenomei, Captain Maurlperle changed his course to head upriver, and now our heroes are stuck at the portage town of Osier, quite possibly the farthest one can get from Kaiin and still count oneself a resident of the Scaum River Valley. It is clear that, if they wish to reverse their fortunes, Simon and Bort must part company with Marulperle and find some other means of transportation.

The Hijinx

The players decide that their first order of business is to investigate Maurlperle's new cargo; perhaps there is something there with which they can blackmail the duplicitous captain. After persuading the first mate to go patrol above deck, they open a few of the crates . . . and find rope. Thousands and thousands of feet of rope.

"Perhaps it's magic rope?" Bort suggests.

Simon makes a Perception check . . . and botches. He realizes instantly that this is in fact a king's ransom in <i>Ever-Lengthening Rope</i>. Since a mere ten feet of Ever-Lengthening Rope can stretch to nearly ten miles at a spoken command, what use one would ever have for <i>thousands of feet</i> of it beggars the imagination. However, it might come in handy, so Bort and Simon each cut off a ten-foot length for themselves and then carefully reclose the crates.

They then successfully persuade Maurlperle to refund the fee for their passage, since he violated the terms of their contract when he decided to sail to a destination different from that which was originally promised. However, there are no other ships leaving Osier tonight; all have been lifted and bolted into hauling frames in preparation for portage over the rapids tomorrow. Our heroes have no choice but to take their handfuls of terces across the river to Osier and spend the night.

Widdloe's Inn is crowded with patrons. Several locals gather around one end of the bar, playing round after round of <i>skeddlepike</i>, a complex game of tossing metal hoops tied with long, multicolored ribbons. The other half of the common room is occupied by a group of robed monks who wear black parasols affixed to their heads.

Simon discreetly casts Brassnose's Twelve-Fold Bounty on his terces . . . and botches, causing all of his money to vanish. He glumly resorts to pickpocketing and manages to acquire a modest sum -- though not quite so much as he had before his spell went awry -- and orders a meal, roast joint with extra helpings of hoarberry sauce. He makes a pass at one of the waitresses . . . and botches, though to Brian's (the player's) surprise, she seems open to his suggestions anyway and invites him to seek her out after her shift is over.

Bort, meanwhile, spends some time observing the skeddlepike game in the hopes of sussing out its arcane scoring procedures and placing an advantageous wager. She makes a perception check . . . and botches. She also botches an attempt to Resist Avarice. Confident that she has observed enough to become a skeddlepike player of consummate adroitness, she enters the competition, and soon finds herself in debt equal to twice her original funds. Casting about, she latches onto Bosslem, who is staying at the inn for a couple of days while he waits for his business partner to arrive. Bort uses her feminine wiles to convince Bosslem to pay off her skeddlepike debts, and after some preliminary banter of a distinctly prurient nature they both retire to Bosslem's room for the night.

By this time, Simon has finished his meal and is wondering how he will pay for his room. Noting the despondent looks that some of the parasol-wearing monks cast towards the more attractive serving girls, he approaches them and strikes up a conversation.

Their leader introduces himself as Porbal, High Protopilgrimarch of the Disciplaries of the Crismatic Perihelion, an order founded on the rediscovery of certain prophetic writings from the 14th Aeon. Central to their beliefs is the idea that the sun must expend precious energy in order to shine on people; the adherents of the Crismatic dogma therefore wear parasols as a considerate measure, to alleviate the sun of any extraneous burden and thereby incrementally prolong its life. They also follow a code of strictest asceticism, to further remove themselves from the sun's notice.

Simon proposes that the monks make an exception to their general practice and join him in a round of drinks. Porbal politely declines.

"But surely you are allowed to indulge as an instructional exercise," Simon rejoins. "I would be happy to walk you through the more common varieties of temptation, that you might better recognize and avoid them in the future."

Porbal considers. "What would the 'more common varieties' entail?"

"Strong wine, good food, and comely women."

"Agreed," says Porbal.

<i>more to come...</i>

[Phantom Grunweasel]

Truly a salutary narrative so far, filled with interest for the most casual reader. I entreat you to avoid delay in penning what remains of this most enthralling account.

[Merova]

Greetings, all!

A most splendid and amusing write-up has been offered for our enjoyment. My thanks go out to Mr. Gentry, and I'm certain that I speak for many. However, my mind has been set to profound considerations in analyzing this instance of "actual play."

I have three points to address:

1) Did your players experience a difficulty in incorporating the "tagline" mechanic? In my most considered of opinions, well based in substantial experience, this has been a point of implementation that many players find to be difficult, at first. Experience helps players find auspicious and effective instances for memorable "tagline" delivery, but some players may form a silly and malicious bias against this mechanic due to awkward intial exposure.

2) I observe that there are quite a few instances of "botching" in your game. If I may be so bold as to ask, why? Did your players neglect to "reroll," allowing their failures to stand unchallenged?

3) This being RPGnet, I cannot allow this opportunity to belittle you to pass ungrasped. Please remember that I undertake this task not just to add insult upon your good name, but to encourage your development as a man of discernment. Unfortunately, I have forgotten my objection, but do take note that somewhere there is a flaw in your concepts.

Thank you for sharing.

---Olivia

[AusJeb]

Verily sir, you have lived up to the magnanimity of your name in sharing your experiences and travails while within the Scaum Valley. I will await most eagerly the continuation of your tale.

Jeb

[gentrification]

The Next Day

Simon awakened the next morning in Snook's bed, massivly hungover from excessive consumption of wine and hoarberry sauce. He could remember carousing with the Crismatic Monks until the early hours of the morning, stumbling into Snook's bedchamber, and then nothing. Snook, who was already awake, cheerily informed him that certain of the acts the two of them had performed the night before constituted, in the particular customs of her village, a contractually binding marriage arrangement. (This, then, was the delayed result of the botched seduction roll that occurred earlier.)

Calmly, Simon asked Snook to please fetch his pants.

While she did so, he quickly wrapped himself in the only clothing available -- a brightly patterened dressing gown -- and attempted to escape out the window with his segment of Ever-Lengthening Rope. Unfortunately, the rope would not respond to any of the customary command words, and Simon was left dangling outside the front of Widdloe's Inn, several feet from the ground, with no way to detach the knotted end no matter how forcefully he implored it. Several passers-by gave him odd looks. Finally, unwilling to leave such a practical (if somewhat unreliable) magic item behind entirely, he cut through the last foot or so of rope with his knife and dropped to the mud.

When he regained his feet, he was immediately confronted by the innkeeper Widdloe, who presented to him the bill for all the food and wine that he (Simon) had consumed the night before, as well as the prodigious quantities ordered on behalf of the Crismatic Monks. The bill was itemized, and quite long. Porbal and his fellow Disciplaries, it seems, had departed early to resume their pilgrimage.

Meanwhile, Bort awakened in the merchant Bosslem's chambers, less discommoded than her companion but no less eager to extricate herself from a potentially complicated situation. While Bosslem snored, Bort quietly robbed him of the most valuable items in his sample case: several sets of ivory-handled tableware, a pair of attractive condiment sets, and some interesting dice. She also picked up a strange metallic tube, about six inches in length by one inch in diameter, that Bosslem had worn on his belt the night before. She noticed the small button set into one end of the tube and, curious, pressed it.

A wide cone of blue concentrate flooded the room, drenching the furniture and covering Bosslem from head to toe. Bosslem immmediately started to scream and writhe. When Bosslem's factotum arrived to investigate, Bort successfully persuaded him that thieves had entered the room while they slept, and that she had barely been able to fend them off with Bosslem's tube of blue concentrate. She then made a discreet exit as her one-time paramour lapsed once again into unconsciousness.

She rejoined Simon, who had in the meantime worked out an arrangement with Widdloe. To the north of town is a path that winds through the wooded foothills at the edge of the Great Forest Da. At the top of that path is a ruined wall, and hanging over that wall is a bush heavily laden with berries. If Bort and Simon would go there and fill a large basket with those berries and then bring it back to Widdloe, then Widdloe would consider all of their debts settled. Having little in the way of better prospects, they agreed.

The hike up to the ruins passed without incident, and there were just enough berries on the bush to fill the basket completely. Noting that where there are ruins there may be yet-unplundered treasure, however, Simon and Bort slipped through a gap in the stone wall to have a quick look around before returning to Osier.

The only intact building was discouragingly empty at ground level, but a half-buried staircase led to two relatively undisturbed chambers. The first appeared to be a wine cellar, with an ancient glyph carved over the lintel. Simon made a Pedantry check to translate the glyph . . . and botched. It was evidentaly a cursing rune of some kind, most likely powerful and deadly. So Simon persuaded Bort to go in and look around while he stood watch outside.

Bort discovered a bottle of rare vintage, intact and sealed -- a treasure that might sell for several hundred terces to the right sort of connosieur. She made an attempt to resist Gourmandism . . . and botched, and in the course of "sampling" the wine she soon drained the entire bottle. (Simon tried to stop her, but since he could not enter the room without falling under the influence of the curse, he was limited to shouting his entreaties through the door.) After Bort emerged from the room, they considered ways to salvage the loss; perhaps they could fill the bottle with a cheaper wine, recreate the seal, and sell it as a counterfeit.

In the second room they found a small wrought-iron table dating from the 17th Aeon. It was a true antique, worth at least <i>2,000 terces</i> in the furniture markets of Kaiin, and still in excellent condition. Without a moment's hesitation, they each grabbed an end and started hauling it up the stairs.

Halfway up, Bort failed an Athletics roll and dropped her end of the table. The wine bottle, which they had balanced on top of the table, rolled off the edge. Bort made a grab for it . . . and botched. Simon made a grab for it . . . and botched. The two of them tumbled down the stairs together; half the berries spilled onto the floor and were crushed beneath their bodies; Bort was injured; and the wine bottle shattered. The table, though still wedged halfway up the narrow stair, was at least undamaged. But when they finally managed to collect the remains of their find and manhandle the table up to the surface, there were two deodands waiting for them. Tense negotiations ensued:

"May we offer you some berries?"

"Thank you, but we are partial to living flesh."

Eventually the two parties reached the following agreement: the deodands would help Simon and Bort carry the iron table as far as the outskirts of Osier; in return, Simon would lure at least two healthy human specimens out of the town for the deodands to prey on. Bort and the table would remain with the deodands as collateral.

Simon entered the town, successfully cast Brassnose's Twelve-Fold Bounty on what berries he had left after the staircase debacle, and used them to pay off his debt to Widdloe. Reader, take careful note: as of that moment, <b>Simon was completely free and clear</b>. True, he was broke, but in that regard he was no worse off than when he had started. All of his debts were paid, and he could have resumed his journey to Kaiin with a clean slate.

<i>But</i>, if he walked, he would lose the table, which was worth more than he could earn in a year of petty scams. And he couldn't afford to leave Bort to the deodands, either, because the table was too heavy for a single person to transport.

Thus, the irresistable pull of avarice drew Simon back into the plot. Such is life in the Dying Earth.

Simon lay the groundwork for his plan in the following manner:

First, he went to Snook and convinced her to elope with him. He asked her to meet him that night at a certain spot at the edge of the woods just north of town.

Next, he went to Bosslem the merchant and told him that he had located the thieves who stole Bosslem's tableware samples, at a certain spot at the edge of the woods just north of town. They were armed, Simon warned, and they planned to strike camp that night.

Finally, he went to Maurlperle and told him that the ruins north of town concealed a trove of treasure -- more treasure than Simon could carry alone. Maurlperle, who had earlier wagered his boat in a game of skeddlepike and lost, was eager to help him move it. Simon told him to come that night to a certain spot at the edge of the woods just north of town, and to bring a shovel.

By this time, the two deodands had decided that four meals would sate them more readily than two, so they had summoned four of their half-man allies and prepared an ambush with Bort as bait. Everyone from the village converged on the spot at the same time. Bosslem, who had expected trouble, was accompanied by two archers from the village. There commenced a tense but very brief standoff, which ended when Bosslem, Maurperle, and Snook all made a run for it and were simultaneously brought down by the waiting deodands. Bort hid under the antique table. Simon attempted to cast the Excellent Prismatic Spray . . .

. . . wait for it . . .

. . . and <i>botched</i>. Lethal threads of multicolored light shot in every direction, ricocheted off the trees, and criss-crossed the clearing a hundred times. When the mayhem died down, both archers collapsed, each punctured in a dozen places by the spell. None of the deodands were harmed in the slightest.

Fortunately, Simon managed to persuade the half-men that the corpses of Bosslem, Maurperle, Snook, and the two archers were more than ample payment according to the terms of their original agreement, and that the potential reward of adding two more victims to the menu could not outweigh the risk that Simon might have encompassed the Excellent Prismatic Spray more than once. (In fact, he had not, but the deodands were none the wiser, and they agreed with Simon's assessment.)

Somewhat regretful of the needless carnage they had caused, but primarily relieved to have escaped with their lives and their merchandise intact, our two heroes took their table and returned to the village with all due haste. There they met Bosslem's belated business partner, informed him that Bosslem had left under mysterious circumstances, and persuaded him to grant them passage to Kaiin, where they would all three split the profits to be made from the antique table.

We then concluded the adventure, resolving to pick up the tale again at a later date.

[gentrification]

Originally posted by Merova
1) Did your players experience a difficulty in incorporating the "tagline" mechanic? In my most considered of opinions, well based in substantial experience, this has been a point of implementation that many players find to be difficult, at first. Experience helps players find auspicious and effective instances for memorable "tagline" delivery, but some players may form a silly and malicious bias against this mechanic due to awkward intial exposure.

Fortunately, my players have had little trouble adjusting to this mechanic, although their deliveries have not been uniformly flawless. In this session, Brian (Simon) was awarded two points, three points, and one point, respectively, for his three taglines, while Ramee (Bort) was awarded two points for each of the two taglines she found opportunity to recite; her third remained unvoiced at the end of play.

I have in the past employed a useful variant of the tagline mechanic, wherein successful delivery grants a complete refresh to a single abillity of the player's choice. This works especially well in one-shot adventures where long-term character improvement is not a pressing concern and thus, improvement points would seem a somewhat hollow reward. One could presumably also use this variant in tandem with a more "traditional" experience award system, for those players who have a difficult time reconciling verbose witticisms with personal development, but who still wish to emulate the setting's unique style of discourse.

2) I observe that there are quite a few instances of "botching" in your game. If I may be so bold as to ask, why? Did your players neglect to "reroll," allowing their failures to stand unchallenged?

We employed the "purist" option, described in the sidebar on page 29 of the core rules, whereby Dismal Failures cannot be rerolled and Illustrious Successes cannot be countered. I had noticed, in the first two games I had run, that when the players were allowed to nullify extreme results, they had a tendency to do so without regard for the expense. Characters very quickly depleted most of their ability pools and were thereafter largely ineffective for the rest of the session, unless an opportunity to refresh presented itself.

With the "purist" option in place, the players were prevented from squandering their pools too quickly. They were also forced to come to terms with one of the key philosophies of the Dying Earth: that competence avails one but little in the face of fickle chance. The results were found satisfying by all.

Note that the players rolled Illustrious Successes nearly as often as they rolled Dismal Failures -- however, in my recounting, only the botches are explicitly noted, because these provided the lion's share of the afternoon's entertainment.

3) This being RPGnet, I cannot allow this opportunity to belittle you to pass ungrasped. Please remember that I undertake this task not just to add insult upon your good name, but to encourage your development as a man of discernment. Unfortunately, I have forgotten my objection, but do take note that somewhere there is a flaw in your concepts.

Of this I have no doubt.

[Professor Phobos]

This testamony from the esteemed gent Gentrification has tickled my fancy and whetted my appetite for this roleplaying game that goes by the identity of "Dying Earth." Mayhaps I shall seek to obtain it via means financial or through less honest and more infamous methodology.

[Skadedyr]

Originally posted by Professor Phobos
Professor Phobos!?

Strangely, there was a Professor Phobos in our Universalis game today. Though he was killed by his reanimated wife.

[gentrification]

In which the continuing misadventures of Bort and Simon the Lavender are further exacerbated, and two more players join the troupe.

(Once again, much of this adventure was inspired by material in the <I>Scaum Valley Gazetteer</I>, truly a supplement without peer.)

After leaving Osier under something of a cloud, Bort and Simon's renewed venture west down the River Scaum proceeded without a hitch, until Bort, in an all-too-common moment of forgetfulness, brought the cutlery she had stolen from Bosslem to breakfast one morning. Recognizing the wares of his late business partner, the boat's captain put two and two together and decided that his two passengers should continue their journey without his help. He tied their 17th-Aeon, ironwork table to a pair of wooden pontoons, then lashed Bort and Simon to the table with Bort's own fragment of "ever-lengthening" rope, then set them adrift. And this is how the two of them came to bump gently against the piers of the tiny fishing village of Murant, a few days' leisurely float downstream from Osier, stripped of all dignity and valuables but fortunate, at least, that their captain had no eye for antiques.

Meanwhile, two more characters enter our tale: Molé and Belligerent Jake, a pair of ne'er-do-wells who had recently become penniless in Drossid -- a grim situation that generally results in indentured servitude for those who find themselves in it. They escaped with the help of a third companion who swore that he could guide them through the Great Forest Da to Azenomei. After many days of aimless wandering, they encountered a traveling order of monks who wore black parasols on their heads and dedicated themselves to the fervent exploration of all varieties of hedonism, that they might more readily identify those sins that cause the sun the most distress and avoid them in the future. The guide abandoned his companions to join the monks; Molé and Jake wandered another half-day through the forest before reaching the outskirts of Murant, and discovered at the village pier a pair of discommoded travelers riding a raft of unconventional design.

With this preliminary exposition out of the way, the game session began in earnest.

After some negotiation, Molé and Belligerent Jake cut Bort and Simon free in exchange for lunch at the local inn. Once free, Simon confides that he and Bort are currently without ready means, but promises that once they reach Kaiin with their antique table, all four of them can share in the profit. To satisfy their more immediate needs, they devise a scheme to convince the inn's proprietress that the table is actually the portable altar of a forgotten Overworld deity, which will confer good fortune and victuals upon the establishment if monetary donations are made.

When the innkeeper seems unconvinced, Simon attempts to sway her with a demonstration. Invoking a prayer to his fictitious god, he surreptitiously casts Behemoth's Bounty. He accidentally transposes the last two pervulsions, however, and instead of a sumptuous feast, the spell conjures several dozen giant plates and urns piled high with offal, which overspill and break, spattering the inn and its patrons with filth. By coincidence, it is at this precise moment that one of the inn's patrons notices Belligerent Jake attempting to lift his purse.

The four would-be charlatans are run out of town and thrown into the river. After a moment, a shadow flits overhead, and their priceless ironwork table lands in the water as well, and sinks like a rock to the bottom of the river.

After drying off and deferring the question of how to retrieve their table from the Scaum's siltbed to a later date, the companions make for the nearby citadel of the Brothers of Hulgen the Tabellion, a cloistered order said to provide charity to those in need. When they arrive there, they find the place overrun by the Crismatic Disciplaries, who have filled every bunk and nearly depleted the citadel's larder in their pious carousing. The abbot of the Brotherhood, however, being a staunch adherer to both the Law of Equivalences and the Law of Preemptive Compensate, promises to provide the adventurers with food and shelter if they can rid the citadel of the impositioning Crismatics. Simon, capitalizing on the good will he garnered with the Disciplaries during their encounter in Osier, manages to convince Pilgrimarch Porbal and his followers that the real party is back at Murant, and soon the parasol-wearing monks are on their way. Grateful and true to their word, the Brothers of Hulgen provide a hot meal amongst the remains of their eating hall.

Molé notes the decorative mural covering one entire wall of the chamber, depicting a comely young woman with red hair and green eyes being dragged to the bottom of the river by a great serpent, while a young warrior brandishes his spear. Upon enquiry, the abbot explains that the red-haired woman is Hulgen, the revered founder of their order, and the scene depicts her heroic sacrifice of many decades past, when she offered herself as bait to lure a monstrous denizen of the Scaum to be slain by a young warrior. The effort succeeded but at a cost, as Hulgen, the warrior, and the serpent were all three dragged below the water's surface, never to be seen again.

Belligerent Jake, hoping to add some detail to the recounting, rolls his Pedantry skill and effects a Dismal Failure. He then fails to resist Pettifoggery. He chimes in that the pattern of scales drawn on the beast are characteristic of a particular genus of Overworld demon that, in Aeons past, was most often summoned for the express purpose of congress with the summoner, with the ultimate aim of producing hordes of half-man offspring. This does not go over well with the abbot, who abruptly revokes his offer of hospitality. When reminded of his order's reputation for charity, he opines that, in his estimation, the Law of Equivalences has been adequately fulfilled, and shuts the door in our four injudicious heroes' faces.

Once again Bort, Molé, Simon the Lavender, and Belligerent Jake find themselves without shelter in the rapidly darkening forest. Desperate and less particular regarding the reputation of their host than they might otherwise be, they make their way to the nearest bastion of civilization, the manse of a local magician known as Jabbernowl. It is nearly dawn before the adventurers find it, and they are greeted at the door by Jabbernowl's factotum Leulliot, who offers them wine and a selection of refreshing cheeses. Jabbernowl himself greets them presently, claiming to have been aware of their immanent arrival and insisting that they rest before joining him for dinner. Too exhausted to exercise the customary skepticism at this uncharacteristic display of largesse from a denizen of the Dying Earth, the four companions retire to separate bedchambers and catch up on some much-needed rest.

At dinner, Jabbernowl further impresses his guests by causing several painted figures in a nearby mural to come to life. Three comely women and one well-proportioned man, all dressed in noble finery of past Aeons, take their places at the table in between the four hungry guests and strike up pleasant, flirtatious dinner conversation. Soon it is apparent that none of these mural-people is disinclined to the idea of a discreet assignation, and before long all of the dinner guests have excused themselves and paired off in remote corners of the manse to, in the words of Cugel himself, solemnize their newfound connubiality.

Alone at the dinner table, Jabbernowl laces his fingers before his chin, and smiles.

Here we decided, owing to the lateness of the hour and the uncertainty of future developments, to suspend the adventure until next week, at which time we will readjourn and conclude the game.

[MechaMonkey]

Originally posted by gentrification
Snipped Dying Earth story.
Fantastic stuff, gentrification! Actual play threads are among my favorites, and Dying Earth is at the top of my Really Want To Play But Never Will list.

[gentrification]

Also on the subject of Actual Play, I've been making a few changes to the basic mechanics of Dying Earth, mostly to make them more streamlined and intuitive for my players. Anyone actually playing DE might find these interesting:

1. Your first roll in an exchange is always free. <i>Always</i>.

2. <b>Levies</b> have been redefined as "the amount it costs you to reroll". A normal exchange has a levy of 1; that is, it costs you 1 point from your pool to reroll. If an exchange has a levy of 2, it costs you 2 points for each reroll, etc.

3. <b>Boons</b> have been redefined as "one or more free rerolls, applied to a <i>single</i> exchange". A boon of 1, for example, means you get one free reroll before you have to start paying the levy. Remember that your first roll is always free, so that's 2 free rolls total before the levy kicks in. A boon of 2 gives you 2 free rerolls (or 3 free rolls total), etc. If you don't use all your free rerolls, they go away at the end of the exchange. <i>All</i> boons are "one-time" boons, now. There is no such thing as a boon that keeps adding to your pool every time you reroll.

4. If you <b>trump</b> someone (in an Attack/Defense or Persuade/Rebuff contest), it means your levy is 0 for the duration of that contest.

5. You may <b>wallop</b> someone at any time by spending 5 points from your pool. It does not matter if your pool is larger than your opponent's or not; if you have 5 points to spend, you can wallop.

[Arkaengel]

As I have been both entertained and enlightened by the tales which noble Gentrification has told us here, I believe it would be a wise decision to seek out a member of the better class of merchant, one with the discernment and foresight to have among his wares a specimen of the volume under discussion. If fortune favours me, mayhap I will even encounter gentlefolk of a like mind, thus that I too may partake of this fine entertainment.

[gentrification]

Machinations, Mischief and Moribundity in Murant: Part 2

After a night of fervent but gratifying dalliance with the mural people, three of our four heroes rejoin Jabbernowl in his breakfast room. The fourth -- Simon the Lavender (who also, entirely coincidentally, happens to be the PC with the lowest Sympathy Total) -- appears to be missing . . . until Jabbernowl directs their attention to the mural above their heads, where Simon has taken the place of the mural-woman with whom he retired the evening previous. He has now become another one of the magician's parlor tricks, while the mural's former tenant has wisely made off, taking Simon's clothes, cap, and signatory scarlet wig-inserts with her.

Jabbernowl concedes that his own amusement at the jest compels him to offer some trivial recompense. He frees Simon, giving him until nightfall to seduce another person -- at which point the object of his seduction will take Simon's place in the mural, and Simon will be free.

Redevoting themselves to their comrade's well-being, the group splits up. Simon and Moré head southwest, to the Demon and Fishing Spear Inn, with a plan for seducing the establishment's proprietress, who is rumored to be a woman of no small comeliness. Bort and Belligerent Jake head east, back to Murant, hoping to find an herbalist who can sell them a healing potion.

At the Demon and Fishing Spear Inn, Bort notices, first, that the proprietress Unslip is, indeed, not uncomely; second, that she bears a striking resemblance to the woman depicted in the mural at the Citadel of the Brotherhood of Hulgen the Tabellion. The likeness, in truth, is nearly exact! Moré and Simon manage to persuade Unslip's husband that Jabbernowl has recently been entertaining his wife in a somewhat less than puritanical fashion. After Jalax storms off to confront the magician, it is a simple task to seduce Unslip. Simon proves to be more than her match, athletically speaking, and as she falls asleep in his arms she vanishes, leaving Simon a free man.

As the inn is mostly empty by this point, Simon and Moré quickly set to robbing the place blind.

Meanwhile, back at Murant, Jake and Bort find the cleanup effort still ongoing in the wake of Simon's botched spell. The Crismatic Disciplaries have been press-ganged into service as a bucket brigade; their ritual parasols are drooping and askew. Bort decides to hang back, while Jake dons a disguise and strides boldly into the main square. Halfway across, his fake moustache falls off, and he is recognized and accosted. Millice Halfron, owner of the befouled inn, offers to forgo the more traditional justice of a severe beating if Jake agrees to wrangle enough lappets to fill a large sack, since all of her stores of cured lappet-meat were ruined when Simon filled the building with magically summoned offal. Jake concurs and takes a sack out to the edge of the woods, accompanied by an alert and cudgel-weilding citizen of the village.

Unfortunately, Jake has little experience in lappet-wrangling; unfamiliar with either the varieties of rotted logs under which lappets prefer to make their homes or the lappet's vigorous swarming behavior when disturbed, he is hard-pressed to fill his sack to even the halfway mark. However, after an afternoon of diligent log-rolling and two abortive attempts to bushwhack his chaperone, Jake finally discovers a colony of slightly discolored and oddly sessile lappets, more than enough to satisfy Millice and make up for Simon's effrontry. It is only just as Millice is about to pass around bowls of fresh lappet broth to celebrate the end of the great cleaning that Bort realizes that the lappets' unorthodox pigment was a result of overripeness and, hence, a symptom of extreme toxicity. She halts the celebration in the nick of time, before anyone ingests anything untoward, and the townsfolk express their gratitude despite the continued dearth of good lappets.

Finally freed of obligation, the two proceed to the home of the herbalist Anet, to acquire a sleeping potion that they have no way of knowing is now completely superfluous. When the question of payment arises, the two destitute adventurers display unprecedented resourcefulness by offering to trade their bucket of overripe, toxic lappets.

At the Dragon and Fishing Spear, Simon and Molé manage to convince a pair of merchants from Azenomei to help them retrieve the antique ironwork table from the river bottom near Murant in exchange for a percentage when they finally reach white-walled Kaine. Molé travels upstream with the merchants, while Simon returns to the Brotherhood of Hulgen the Tabellion to acquire a cart and mermelant. While he is there, he persuades the abbot of the Brotherhood that Jabbernowl is holding an avatar of Hulgen the Tabellion captive within a magic mural -- which, as far as Simon knows, is for all intents and purposes the truth -- and soon the abbot is leading his fellow monks in a righteous assault against the magician's manse.

Bort and Belligerent Jake return to the Dragon and Fishing Spear, passing Molé along the way, only to find the inn empty. While waiting for their companions to rejoin them, Jake decides to explore a series of excavations in a nearby field, while Bort remains behind the till in the hopes of fleecing any passing customers.

Jake discovers an ancient well and spies something gleaming down at its bottom. Climbing down, he discovers a medium-sized cave, its floor liberally sprinkled with a king's ransom in early-Aeon gold dubloons, which he makes haste to gather. Suddenly, the ground begins to tremble, and a forest of tentacles springs up from beneath his feet! Jake is barely able to escape the well clutching a double-handful of doubloons wrapped in his shirt, but the quake persists even after he has emerged, and large cracks radiate out from the monster's lair. Jake begins running back to the inn.

Molé with the merchants, Simon with his mermelant and cart, and Jake with his ill-gotten treasure all converge on the Dragon and Fishing Spear just as the tremors undermine the building's foundations and bring it crashing in upon itself in a great gout of dust and splintered wood. Jake runs to help Bort out of the wreckage; the merchants panic and, after a brief but predictable struggle, put both Molé and his accursed ironwork table to shore. Our newly peripatetic adventurers, justly fearing swift retribution from the magician Jabbernowl, whom they have double-crossed in at least two ways that are known to them and one way that isn't, quickly gather their valuables and prepare to move on, leaving not one, but four establishments utterly ruined in their wake.

Thus and so, such is life on the Dying Earth.

[gentrification]

There are many games that advise the GM not to call for rolls unless it's actually important. The thing about Dying Earth, as I have discovered, is that <i>they really frikking mean it</i>, because failure is so incredibly common.

Within the first ten minutes of this last session, Stuart rolled <i>seven</i> critical botches in a row. With Dying Earth's botch rules, this is not even particularly astounding. When they all come within ten minutes, for a bunch of relatively mundane actions that are supposed to lead up to something interesting down the road, it can be very frustrating for GM and player alike. You can only spin catastrophic failure into further hilarity so many times before it gets tiresome. The player can only be told to "Relax and enjoy it" so many times before it starts to wear. If failure after failure prevents the character from acting <i>at all</i>, then the player eventually loses interest in trying to get into further trouble and starts to withdraw from the game, doing anything possible to avoid having to roll the dice for any reason.

The criteria for calling for a roll in a typical RPG is, "Is this action a challenge? Is there a chance for failure?" In a typical game, the GM can let the chips fall where they may, because players can exercise some control over what their characters are competent at. In Dying Earth, however, where skill ratings do not measure competence, you <i>cannot</i> use difficulty as a criteria to call for rolls. Nearly anything can be construed as a challenge, but even a very creative GM cannot make every conceivable situation interesting if the character should fail. What you have to ask yourself instead is, "Would a catastrophic failure in this situation be <i>funny</i>? Can I think of a way to spin this if the player rolls a 1?" If the answer is yes, then call for a roll. If the answer is no, and you call for a roll anyway, and the roll fails (which is very likely), then you're stuck.

You also have to make sure that failure doesn't prevent the characters from moving forward. It may be "forward" in a direction they didn't anticipate, but they have to be able to at least move at all. <i>Never</i> call for a roll in which failure simply resets the character back to his starting point. When we played this last adventure, I originally made each player roll to see if he became stuck in the magic mural. Three out of four players failed. They then had to attempt to seduce someone else to take their place, requiring more rolls, which they again failed, and each time ended up back in the mural. Soon their pools were depleted, and the game ground to a halt, as there was no way for them to involve themselves in further shenanigans without first dealing with the mural, and there was no way for them to deal with the mural without refreshing their pools. When we reconvened for the second session, I called for a "do-over," and declared by fiat that only one person -- the one with the lowest Sympathy Rating -- was trapped in the mural. This allowed the other players more freedom to try to solve the puzzle (and get into further hijinx along the way), and prevented the game from becoming locked into orbit around one single element of the adventure.

If Dying Earth has one fault, it is that this is not made explicit enough, I think. There are numerous rules in the game that imply a simulationist mindset, insofar as the reasoning behind the rule seems to be, "This task is difficult, therefore it requires a roll." The rules for drowning, for example: when do you call for a drowning roll? Whenever the character happens to be over his head in rough water? That way lies folly, for every citizen of the Dying Earth, from the lowest beggar to the most powerful arch-magician, will drown one time out of six. No, the answer is, "Whenever failure means the character will be picked up by a slaver ship and sold as a he-concubine to the voracious women of Pompodouros." Or something of that nature. If you are not prepared to go there, then put the dice away and let the character float safely to shore.

Unstated assumptions held over from more typical games can lead an unwary GM to calling for rolls in situations where failure only leads to frustration. Dying Earth does not simulate the relationship between cause and effect well at all. It simulates trials and complications, and the fleeting triumph of luck over circumstance. Use discretion.

[PaulK]

After rolling one critical botch, the chance that the next 6 rolls will be equally bad is less than 1/40000

If he took rerolls for some of them it would increase the probability (doing some quick estimating it looks like it might reasonably get as high as 1/10000 - but not much higher).

[gentrification]

Originally posted by PaulK
After rolling one critical botch, the chance that the next 6 rolls will be equally bad is less than 1/40000

If he took rerolls for some of them it would increase the probability (doing some quick estimating it looks like it might reasonably get as high as 1/10000 - but not much higher).

And yet that's still quite a bit higher than pretty much any other game out there. Compare that to the odds against rolling six botches in a row in Exalted, with a six-die pool.

[ap Oweyn]

Originally posted by PaulK
After rolling one critical botch, the chance that the next 6 rolls will be equally bad is less than 1/40000

If he took rerolls for some of them it would increase the probability (doing some quick estimating it looks like it might reasonably get as high as 1/10000 - but not much higher).

Yeah, Mole and Simon did the probability calculation of doing what I'd just done at the time. And despite how unlikely it looked on paper, I'd just done it.

Don't think for one moment that was the last critical failure I rolled that night either. Oh no. Not by a long shot.

:D


Stuart (aka Belligerent Jake)

[Sammael99]

Originally posted by gentrification
Thus and so, such is life on the Dying Earth.


I want to play in your Dying Earth game...

... and have you babies if such is the price !



In utmost seriousness it falls on my weary shoulders to remark that this fiction of yours is, despite its obvious stylistic limitations, of a fairly entertaining nature. I will likely watch this space with great interest for further reading about a game that intimidates me muchly and for which I fear I will not find adequate players beyond the number of one...

[Ian Cooper]

Great actual play. Made me want to dust out my copy and run a one off for the group and some useful advice.

Thanks for this, made reading rpg.net today worthwhile.

[Rob Donoghue]

I'm obliged to note that this pretty much clinched my decision to purchase the game.

-Rob D.

[Cam Banks]

Screw Dying Earth. Gentry's a genius.

Cheers,
Cam
PS: But now I want a copy too. Or I want Rob to run it.

[silburnl]

Great actual play write-ups. One question though - whilst generally not-too-shabby at GM-ing I'd be bloody hard-pressed to come up with the convolutions, poetic commuppances and whacky incidents as outlined (to say nothing of the names and general Vance-ian wierdness).

How well does the game support that Vance-ian good stuff (either inspirational published material or groovy mechanics that support the wackiness) and how much of it is down to stellar GM prep and/or improv skills?

Regards
Luke

[gentrification]

Originally posted by silburnl
Great actual play write-ups. One question though - whilst generally not-too-shabby at GM-ing I'd be bloody hard-pressed to come up with the convolutions, poetic commuppances and whacky incidents as outlined (to say nothing of the names and general Vance-ian wierdness).

How well does the game support that Vance-ian good stuff (either inspirational published material or groovy mechanics that support the wackiness) and how much of it is down to stellar GM prep and/or improv skills?

It's very well supported, I think. The main book has a whole chapter of advice for creating "Vancian" adventures, with plenty of examples. You can download lists of Vancian-sounding names for plants, animals, food, etc. at www.dyingearth.com, as well as an Excel spreadsheet that generates random Vancian-sounding names. The Excellent Prismatic Spray (also available from their website, though not for free), is an irregularly published journal that's packed full of adventure ideas and more GMing advice.

You'll note that all of the adventures we've run so far are pulled directly from the <i>Scaum Valley Gazetteer</i>. I'd go so far as to say that this may well be <b>the</b> essential supplement for Dying Earth (though it's a close tie with <i>Player's Guide to Kaiin</i>), providing details, NPCs, and adventure hooks for about a hundred different towns, ruins, and sites of general interest in the most well-traveled region in the world. My GMing prep has been quite minimal; I pretty much just read up on the next town on the road, note the names of the major NPCs, and let the players loose.

(Okay, in the first write-up on this thread, I can take full credit for the parasol-wearing Crismatic Discliplaries. But for the second adventure, I didn't even do that much.)

My advice to anyone planning to GM Dying Earth: <b>do not plan anything</b>. If you're letting the dice rule (and you should, for this game) NPCs will fail as often as PCs do, so you cannot rely on any preplanned event going the way you thought it would. Also, get used to your players persuading your NPCs to do all kinds of stupid things. Don't fight it. In Vance's stories, even the mightiest arch-magician gets taken in by the most transparent of scams.

Take full advantage of the "relationship map" method -- come up with 4-5 colorul NPCs (<i>SVG</i>, of course, does this for you), come up with reasons for them to swindle the PCs and reasons for the PCs to swindle them (again, <i>SVG</i> does a lot of this for you), take away all the PCs' money (it's an explicit rule of the game that all starting-level characters must begin each adventure flat broke, no matter how much money they had at the end of the last one), and then just let them pinball around. When someone rolls a dismal failure (and they will), up the chaos factor a notch, until the PCs are eventually forced to leave town under a cloud, leaving an enraged populace in their wake.

What takes practice is calling for rolls when failure would be amusing or get them into hot water, but <b>not</b> when failure would simply stop them dead or force them to just try the same thing again. I still have a bad tendency think along the traditional lines of, "if reasonable chance for failure, then roll." It's real easy to find yourself stymied by a huge clump of failures that way, and players new to the game can get frustrated.

[Simon Pelgrane]

I would be flattered by a character called "Simon", if it weren't that his behavior was not that of a person of quality.

I agree with much of what Mr Gentry has said about running a game:

I also recommend the "no rerolls" (purist) option for Cugel-level games. For Turjan-level games, this doesn't work - players need to be able to reroll to reflect their character's heroic nature.

The result of a Dismal Failure should always drive plot forward in some way, not cause a dead end. There is no need to roll for everything.

Mr Gentry appears to be using the Scaum Valley Gazetteer exactly as intended, with a few interesting twists. It is laid out with little plot vignettes and tasks that can be used to drag dismally failing PCs out of their obligations.

http://www.dyingearth.com/scaum.htm has a decent chunk of material for free download.

Simon Rogers
Pelgrane Press

[Unregistered]

I must confess to an inordinate degree of pleasure at reading the antics of gentrifications' players as they ricocheted neatly from crisis to crisis in the Scaum Valley.
He is absolutely right, do not plan too much; a Dying Earth adventure is more a web than a railroad. When faced with rescuing a princess from a death star, a Dying Earth hero may end up working in a bar in some desert planet, seduce the princess and steal her watch, accidentally cripple the death star by selling the maintenance crew a load of substandard components that he acquired in a dubious card game or even swing across an abyss on a rope while being shot at by incompetents armed with weapons they obviously only got issued with earlier that afternoon.
Glad you enjoyed the Scaum Valley, as someone who has walked from one end to the other, twice, I feel a strange fondness for the place

Jim Webster

[gentrification]

Antics, Artifice, and an Artfully Arranged Apocalypse in Azenomei

or, the further adventures of four total bastards, minus one.

Once again, my gaming colleagues and I have convened for another chapter of our intermittent <b>Dying Earth</b> campaign.

When we last left Bort, Simon the Lavender (now resobriqueted <i>Simon the Conical</i>, due to an enforced change of wardrobe while ensnared in Jabbernowl's magic mural), and Belligerent Jake, they had inadvertantly destroyed the Demon & Fishing Spear Inn, and the The river merchants who had helped Molé to dredge up the group's 17th-Aeon, ironwork table had deposited the prized antique in the muck at the river's edge and fled upon witnessing the wreckage.

(Unfortunately, Chris was not able to make it to this session, so we took some minor liberties with the most recently recorded facts of the chronicle in order to relegate his character to a more convenient, backstage status. Jake, Simon, and Bort watched as Molé struggled briefly with the riverboat's crew. At the fight's end, the sailors heaved the table overboard; however, rather than giving Molé the same treatment, they inexplicably muscled him below decks. The boat then disappeared around a bend in the Scaum, and Molé makes no further appearance in this chapter.)

The remaining heroes considered their assets: they had a cart full of beer from the Brotherhood of Hulgen and a mermelant to haul it; they had the double-handful of doubloons that Jake had recovered from the monstrous well behind the Dragon and Fishing Spear; they had an ironwork table of rare craftsmanship and age; they had a bucket of fermenting, overripe lappets. They also had a powerful magician who would no doubt seek vengeance against the perpetrators of his misery. The three companions quickly loaded the cart and, after plying the mermelant with beer, set off downstream, towards Azenomei.

Their second night on the road, Simon inexpertly tied the mermelant's traces, and the beast got free and drank all the beer in the cart. It was comatose and supine when the travelers awoke, and no amount of importunation would rouse it. After concealing everything nonportable -- the cart, the iron table, and the sleeping mermelant -- behind a screen of branches, they resumed their journey on foot. Soon they were passed by another wagoner, and were able to purchase a ride the rest of the way.

Once at Azenomei, the intrepid explorers immediately made for its famous market fair. Unfortunately, what scant currency they had not accidentally left behind in their their hasty exit from the environs of Murant, was spent on the ride into town. Furthermore, the "doubloons" that Jake had retreived from the well were evidently fake; after a day on the road, they became waxy and soft, eventually crumbling away, to a handful of tiny pebble-like accretions, one from the center of each coin. Jake theorized that the well-creature must synthesize gold coins the way an oyster synthesizes pearls, in order to lure potential delvers into its maw -- except, of course, that pearls are genuinely valuable.

In any case, they required a scheme by which generate revenue, and so quickly concoted one.

Choosing a bare patch of earth near the more affluent-looking stalls, Jake sat down and began to lament his fate as a poor tenant farmer who had been forced off his land, and who now had no choice but to sell his "magic seeds". Simon and Bort posed as skeptical and politely interested customers, respectively, asking questions about the "magic seeds" and loudly repeating the answers either in disdain or in delighted amazement, as appropriate. Eventually they began to attract marks, but the potential customers always balked before buying.

Finally, in order to satisfy a particularly obtuse mark who demanded a demonstration of the seeds' efficacy, Belligeretnt Jake dug a hole and dropped one of his accretoid pebbles in. To everyone's surprise, the hole began to widen and deepen of its own volition. As Jake and the gathering onlookers scrambled back from the edges of the sinkhole, several lavender-colored tentacles rose up and began blindly grasping objects from nearby stalls. It turns out that the "magic seeds" were, in fact and to no one's greater astonishment than Jake's, <i>actually magic seeds</i>, with the gold doubloons serving dually as a lure for heedless adventurers and as a transport mechanism should the prey manage to escape with a handful or two.

Bort and Jake vanished into the crowd. In the confusion, several urchins made off with most of the remainder of Jake's seeds. Simon, meanwhile, stayed and cowed the tentacles back into their cave with a few well-placed strokes from his rapier. When the officers of the Azenomei Mercantilerous Constabulatory arrived, he offered his services as monster-hunter and Consultant on Subterranean Intrusory Affairs, and the chief lieutenant accepted his application on the spot.

Though Simon had now procured legitimate employment, Bort and Jake still required some means of acquiring lucre. They arranged a meeting with Simon and hatched a clandestine plan.

That night, Jake planted his last remaining seed in the middle of the town square, right in front of the Office of the Mercantilerious Constabulatory, where Simon was discussing his fees with the Chief Constabulator. He then pinned a note to the front door of the town hall with a dagger, revealing the location of the latest pit-monster and warning that he could create more whenever he wanted. The note was signed, "Black Nigel".

When news of the note reached the Constabulatory, Simon naturally volunteered to dispatch the creature. This new one proved more tenacious than the one at the market fair, however, and soon Bort and Belligerent Jake were forced to provide aid as lavender tentacles dragged Simon down into the pit. With his last reserves of composure, Simon summoned to mind the formula for the Excellent Prismatic Spray, directing the magical focus straight down the beast's maw. Unsurprisingly, however, he made the not-uncommon mistake of inverting the third-to-last pervulsion of the spell. Instead of a stream of varicolored, piercing threads, the spell emitted a soft beam of mint-green evanescence which seemed to refresh and revitalize the monster. Dozens more tentacles began to burst from the ground in ever-widening concentric rings, surrounding the three hapless entrepreneurs.

It was Jake who, with typical acumen, intuited how to defeat the growing beast. With a graceful, overhand swing, he lobbed the bucket of over-fermented lappets straight into the creature's central pit. As Bort and Simon sprinted for safety, the ground in the middle of the town square swelled like a rising carbuncle and then burst, sending out an initial shockwave of sod and dirt followed by a rain of lavender, rubbery tentacle bits. The crater left by the creature's passing was thirty feet deep and encompassed nearly the entirety of the town square.

Some quick persuasion convinced the Chief Constabulator that Simon should not be held liable for structural damage to city property; that he should be paid double is usual fee for dispatching a more onery species of subterrene intrusion than indicated by his original contract; and that the pieces of lavender tentacle now generously covering nearly every outdoor surface in central Azenomei were, in fact, edible and quite delicious.

The streets next morning were somewhat rank. Citizens roamed with buckets, collecting tentacle bits and arguing with each other over what spices might best be used in their preparation. Simon returned to the market fair, where he sold the pornographic candlesticks stolen from Jalax at the Demon & Fishing Spear and used the proceeds, as well as the hefty stipend he had received for slaying two pit-monsters, to purchase a few essential commodities: a suit and hat of lavender, so as to reclaim his originally hued nomenclature; a scholarly treatise on ritual artifacts and major thaumaturgical items of the Derna-Scaum basin; a pair of live boots; a tube of blue concentrate. He returned to the Office of the Constabulatory well-equipped and much lighter of purse.

Belligerent Jake was already working to rectify the latter situation. He penned another note from the pseudonymous "Black Nigel," claiming to have planted ten pit-creature seeds at undisclosed locations throughout Azenomei, and threatening to activate them all from a distance if the people of Azenomei did not pay a ransom of two thousand terces. It made no difference, of course, that Jake no longer possessed any seeds: the populace, terrified by last night's display, would hand over the money; or, if they proved unwilling, Simon would scour the town for random pebbles, declaring each one a seed found "just in time," and collect a healthy stipend for each discovery. The plan seemed sound as Jake dropped the ransom note at the doorstep of the Office of the Constabulatory.

He paid little heed to the group of urchins who loitered around the side of the building, and who scattered when he approached.

Minutes later, a score of pit-creatures opened up beneath the very foundations of the Office of the Constabulatory, pulling the entire structure into the ground. At the same time, hundreds of food-poisoned Azenomei citizens staggered, retching, from their homes, believing themselves to be victims of some horrible plague. Bort and Jake, who once again had been hovering on the edge of town, bolted. Simon the Lavender used his live boots to spring nimbly from the collapsing Constabulatory and made a preternaturally hasty escape.

Thus and so, the trio of entrepreneurs returned to their still-tethered and somewhat resentful mermelant, leaving Azenomei to writhe in the grip of follies not of its own making.

(As usual, most of the setting used in this session comes from the inestimable <i>Scaum Valley Gazetteer</i>. Though in this instance, the players eschewed most of the NPCs and created a situation entirely of their own invention, the utility of this fine RPG supplement is not to be underestimated.)

[D. Archon]

I am most ecstatic to see that another discerning gentleman has discovered the superlative qualities of The Dying Earth, and look forward with great eagerness to see the continuation of this chronicle.

It is with some dismay, however, that i am most likely unable to revel in my own adventures, as there is a dearth of colleagues with the perspicacity required to participate in such an endeavor.

I recently acquired the corebook and was so impressed with the high quality of the game that i immediately placed a special order for the game line in its entirety, save only the maps, which the establishment was unable to requisition. I expect the assorted tomes to arrive within a fortnight.

[Simon Pelgrane]

Originally posted by gentrification
Antics, Artifice, and an Artfully Arranged Apocalypse in Azenomei

(As usual, most of the setting used in this session comes from the inestimable <i>Scaum Valley Gazetteer</i>. Though in this instance, the players eschewed most of the NPCs and created a situation entirely of their own invention, the utility of this fine RPG supplement is not to be underestimated.)

We encourage PCs to invent and pull off their own cons, in fact Cugel's Compendium has a large essay devoted to this. If nothing else, we approve of the GMs' burden being made lighter by player ingenuity.

The "Monster Seeds" are a nice touch - I don't think they were in the original. Much better than having footpads liberate the PCs stash.

Incidentally, if your groups ever aquire and cast "Phalajun's Perfection of Manners", please let me know the consequences - I've been waiting for this for a long time.

[gentrification]

Originally posted by Simon Pelgrane
Incidentally, if your groups ever aquire and cast "Phalajun's Perfection of Manners", please let me know the consequences - I've been waiting for this for a long time.

I will ensure that it finds its way into Simon's grimoire at the earliest plausible opportunity!

[Rob Donoghue]

So, just hit the Game Parlour over lunch, and based pretty much on this thread, picked up the Scaum Valley Gazeteer (And Cugel's Compendium). Still shrinkwrapped, but I suspect it will be worth it.

-Rob D.

[Unregistered]

I read these incredible postings with boundless glee; I recently discovered the Dying Earth tome at an admittedly less then agreeable mercantile store for only 7 dollars. The fools were apparently trying to "clear out" the book as well as others of it's ilk. Quite frankly, I made a killing.

[GB Steve]

Originally posted by Unregistered
I read these incredible postings with boundless glee; I recently discovered the Dying Earth tome at an admittedly less then agreeable mercantile store for only 7 dollars. The fools were apparently trying to "clear out" the book as well as others of it's ilk. Quite frankly, I made a killing.

Although that is a common way of dealing with underlings, I suggest that next time you leave them alive. After all, if you kill all inferiors, who will be left to give you your due praise, and make the tea?

[Unregistered]

Originally posted by GB Steve
Although that is a common way of dealing with underlings, I suggest that next time you leave them alive. After all, if you kill all inferiors, who will be left to give you your due praise, and make the tea?

Sir, might I direct your glance to my travelling harem of underage boys? No one makes tea better, I assure you. I never lower myself to the more primal urges of the flesh with the little lads, you have my word, but you'd be pleasantly surprised how many odious encounters are ended happily when you are suddenly surrounded by thirteen 10 year olds all pretending to cry and call you "Pappy".

[ap Oweyn]

Here's what I've realized about our escapades in Dying Earth. As Mike mentioned, we basically ignored the NPCs in Asenomai and came up with a scheme completely independent of any of the hooks that were available in the town. Instead, the plan was based solely around the hook that I, Belligerent Jake, inadvertently introduced to the town.

And after thinking about it a while, I've concluded that the plan was sort of a level 2 Dying Earth scheme.

In the games previous to that, I felt like I hadn't been thinking enough about scheming. I hadn't been looking at the bigger picture. I'd wait for Mike, as GM, to hand me something to work with. And I'd try to make the best of it. But I had no overarching scheme. Just a moment-to-moment effort to turn things to my advantage.

That's level 1.

In Asenomai, I feel like we managed to cook up a scheme that had contingency plans and, best of all, allowed us to be far away when things went either very right or very wrong. After all, we didn't even need to be in town after the initial display of our threats. We just had to wait for the ransom to be delivered. And our contingency was that Simon would rescue the town, one pebble at a time. Leaving our hands clean.

That's level 2.

My hope for level 3 (and yes, I'm pulling these designations out of my arse) is much the same as level 2, except that it capitalizes on the hooks specific to that town. Then whatever mayhem we cause will be directly tied to the people and places in question. And we'll all undoubtedly feel like our thirst for wanton, and yet deeply personalized, chaos and destruction will finally be sated.


Yours in ignobility,

Belligerent Jake (aka "Dread Black Nigel")

[Sammael99]

Originally posted by ap Oweyn
My hope for level 3 (and yes, I'm pulling these designations out of my arse) is much the same as level 2, except that it capitalizes on the hooks specific to that town. Then whatever mayhem we cause will be directly tied to the people and places in question. And we'll all undoubtedly feel like our thirst for wanton, and yet deeply personalized, chaos and destruction will finally be sated.

And presumably that particular brand of Vancian Karma will then slap you so hard 'round the head you'll end up on a continent not yet described by the good people at Pelgrane Press ;)

[Unregistered]

I'm sorry to derail this fine discussion but are there any other character sheets available for download other then the official one from Pelgrane?

[muggley pug]

Dying Earth on entertainment value alone, as a novel or addition to the Jack Vance novels are a sheer joy.

[ap Oweyn]

Originally posted by Sammael99
And presumably that particular brand of Vancian Karma will then slap you so hard 'round the head you'll end up on a continent not yet described by the good people at Pelgrane Press ;)

Oh yeah. I fully expect karma to rappel in through my window, seduce my wife, steal my wallet, and urinate in my closet.

Such is the way of my people.


Stuart B.

[Unregistered]

Originally posted by MechaMonkey
Fantastic stuff, gentrification! Actual play threads are among my favorites, and Dying Earth is at the top of my Really Want To Play But Never Will list.

Hi all If you like DE RPG anf Vance and if you speak or read french... Go to see the official site and french version of the game !

http://www.dyingearth.info
or
http://users.skynet.be/les arpenteursdereves


See ya all'
--
Prossbal Le Disert,
Bibliothécaire prêteur & Huissier intérimaire,
Fonctionnaire préposé au contrôle du recrutement,
Rédacteur en chef du "Jet Prismatique Excellent en ligne"
Service Général des Archives Antiques d'Almery,
Azenomeï - Vallée de la Scaum.
www.dyingearth.info

[GB Steve]

In his excitement, Mr self-titled Unregistered misspelt his own website. Whilst this oversight betrays his obvious lack of quality, it might still be possible to glean a speck of gold from what is otherwise a pan of spoil. In other words, it is not obviously useless.

http://users.skynet.be/lesarpenteursdereves

(Salut Rafa!)

[hatheg-kla]

Hi there Jake/"Black Nigel"!

I'm interested in what you think enabled you as a player to move from your level 1 to level 2 of Dying Earth play?

I ask cos my three players are firmly at level 1 and I'd like to get them to level 2 (or beyond).

Ben

[gentrification]

Originally posted by hatheg-kla
Hi there Jake/"Black Nigel"!

I'm interested in what you think enabled you as a player to move from your level 1 to level 2 of Dying Earth play?



He'll probably say it was me bitching at him. :D

[ap Oweyn]

Yeah. Definitely Mike bitching at me. :)

Serious answer: Mike has discussed elsewhere in this thread that one of his players rolled 6 critical failures in a row (and those were hardly the first or last critical failures of the night for that character). That was me.

Mike discussed a fix for that problem. Something about learning as a GM to ask for rolls only at pivotal moments. (I recommend you scan back through this thread and find that piece of advice. It'll be well worth it.) A player needs to be able to build up some momentum if he's going to get any schemes going. Granted, it's Dying Earth. And the players have to understand that the scheme is going to go to shit at some point. But if it never even gets off the ground, there's a problem.

Jake (to himself): Hmm... If I can convince this town elder that I'm a visiting dignitary, I can ingratiate myself to the town leadership and parlay that into...

GM: Roll to persuade

Jake: Bugger! A one!!


End of scheme. So that's my first piece of advice. Read Mike's suggestions on when to make players roll and when not to.

My second piece of advice. Tell the players to take some time. Before the game. While other players are talking. Whatever. Tell them to think about what possessions they have or have access to. (In Dying Earth, they're unlikely to have that much actually on them, as you know.) Thinking about their resources is a good start.

"Okay, I've got these seeds that apparently sprout tentacle monsters. But I've lost all but two of them. What does that do for me?"

Come up with a scheme. "I'll sprout the tentacle monster in town. But how does that result in cash for me? Ransom! Show them you mean business, then demand cash. Easy."

Next, come up with contingency plans, because you know shit's going to go wrong. Our contingency plan involved basically a merging of my scheme and Simon's. He was pretending to be a monster hunter for hire, so he'd go around town uncovering regular old pebbles and claiming he'd "found the seed just in time", getting paid hansomely for his services.

Pretty much all of that came out of just sitting there for a minute and thinking "okay, I have this seed."

Where I failed to hit level 3 was that I didn't look at the NPCs in the town as resources as well. I figured I had ONE resource. The seed. And I built everything around that. When I was taking account of my resources, I should have been patient enough to chat with the NPCs, write down their deals, and consider them resources as well.

So I guess that's my best advice to pass along to the players. Literally jot down what you've got on you as you get into town. Then jot down what's in the town (including NPCs and their deals). And then take a few minutes to cook something up. It's not profound. But it's a thought process. A different one from many RPGs.

Often, players wait for the GM to present them with a set of circumstances. Then they react to them. And then wait for the GM to present a new set of circumstances. It'll take a while to train them out of that a little. Explicitly describe the setting, make them go through the exercise of identifying what they have to work with, and have them create their own situation. It'll take a little practice. (Clearly I'm still working on it.) But I think that's the trick.

Whaddya think?


Stuart B.

[hatheg-kla]

Sounds good. An interesting way of coming at things, that. I suppose a "Check what resources you have available" prompt might help move my players on then. Making sure they realise that resources can be NPCs and their attitude to the characters as well as their belongings is a good plan too I think (although that may come to them naturally after a bit).

I'd read this thread through a couple of times (after hearing about it on the yahoogroups offical DE RPG group) before posting and greatly enjoyed it.

Though I'm still not quite sure what prompted you to move to level 2. Did Mike have to "lead you to level 2" and was this as a result of some awkward/slow moments when nobody could thing of anything to do? My players are very much like that and I'm worried that it's because of the way I'm presenting things...

I've taken on board some of the advice that was mentioned (e.g. getting rid of the re-rolling of 1's and 6's - you made a very convincing case for dropping them Mike - better than in the rulebook!).

I'm thinking of taking your write-ups and thrusting my own players into them!

All-in-all this is a very helpful thread on the rather strange and sometimes tricky job of inventing a Dying Earth story and capturing the right feel. It's certainly helped me have confidence in what I'm doing right and what I could change.

Do you plan to post more session stories?

Ben

[ap Oweyn]

Oh, right. Sorry. I meant to write this earlier, but I forgot. And I'm afraid it's not terribly helpful anyway, but here goes:

Brian and Chris (Simon the Lavender and Mole respectively) started cooking up a plan apart from my own bumbling efforts. And here's the odd thing. Predictably, it kinda went to shit. I mean, parts of it worked. And parts of it went awry. But regardless of this, they were clearly having fun with it. It was something that they'd come up with. And either it was succeeding OR they were having to think on the fly to keep it 'up in the air.'

Either way, they were fully engaged in something that they cooked up. I, on the other hand, couldn't really get engaged because 1) I had no plan to either succeed at or bungle and 2) I was utterly failing most of the time to overcome any obstacle that Mike put in front of me.

That's the thing. In many games, the thrill comes from being presented with an obstacle and overcoming it based on the application of your skills. But in Dying Earth, your skills are so hit-or-miss that that's very rarely a rewarding approach. Instead, you have to invest in setting up a situation that you'll enjoy watching or participating in, regardless of whether it goes right (which it won't).

Advice about how to get to level 2... Well, I got lucky. Brian and Chris did a good job. I saw it and wanted to emulate it. End of story. In your case, if nobody is taking that lead, perhaps you could seed the game a bit. Take one player aside and work something out with him. Not as a way of cheating to further his character, obviously. (We all know it's not going to further his character in Dying Earth.) But to serve as an example to the others.

It wouldn't have to be a huge subterfuge. Just explain to your most trusted player what sort of thing you're looking for and that you want to run a sort of in-game tutorial, with which he'll be assisting. You guys could decide on an NPC and some possessions to be involved, cook up the basics of a scheme, and play it out. You'd probably do well to make it less than obvious in the actual game that you guys cooked it up together. Might make the other players feel like they're getting screwed. Just let him model the behavior you want in your game. Here are your resources. Okay, here's what I'm going to do with them.

I think the others will catch on. They'll want to join in on the scheme, or cook up their own.

I'm no expert. But that's what I'd try if I were in your shoes.

And I'm pretty sure that Mike'll continue to post accounts of our misadventures, yeah.



Stuart B.

[Sammael99]

Originally posted by ap Oweyn
And I'm pretty sure that Mike'll continue to post accounts of our misadventures, yeah.


Gentle persons in the know will undoubtedly remark that as a young father I should strive for tasks more fulfilling than reading the accounts of others' amusements, and such statement would be of a striking accuracy. Incisive minds might even suggest that this unhealthy taste of mine for such narratives borders on onanistic practices and should as such be avoided.

I wish therefore to insist that my current enquiries as to the next update of the present narrative are of a purely intellectual nature and that my lack of recent participation in any role-playing activity in no way implies the above-mentioned unhealthy practices...