Friday, June 21, 2024

Kicking Out the Jams

 

 

What do you do after you've been blogging about (mostly) TTRPG stuff for half a year or so? Start joining every game jam in sight! First up is the Sci-Fi One-Shot Jam 2024, which was a nice bite-sized way to dip my toes in.

The prompt was to create a one-shot science fiction adventure based on the theme of stellar phenomena, with a bunch of optional restrictions: keep the whole thing on (both sides of) a single page, make it text-only, make it system-agnostic, and introduce a secondary theme of unintended consequences or mystery. Text-only and system-agnostic were my inclinations anyway, and the one-sheet limitation proved to be enjoyably challenging. (And a little mystery? Why not!)

The result: Storm of the Century. Of course, I went with an oops-all-tables kind of approach, because I love tables, and thus it's not exactly an adventure; it's more like an adventure premise and a bunch of tools for fleshing it out. But it was fun to make, and hopefully it's fun to read too!

Thursday, June 20, 2024

20 Sources of Power


  1. Cursed tome
  2. Cursed orb
  3. Sentient sword (cursed)
  4. Cursed finger bone of cursed saint, preserved in cursed reliquary pendant
  5. Ancient scrolls that crumbled to dust when read
  6. Infernal tattoos
  7. Cryptic mantra, repeated ad nauseam
  8. Self-denial
  9. Pact with inscrutable alien beings
  10. Dragon blood (hereditary)
  11. Dragon blood (injected directly into veins)
  12. Bitten by a contagiously magical monster (non-draconic)
  13. Struck by lightning, but in a constructive way
  14. Drank a mysterious potion
  15. Ritual dagger (drinks blood)
  16. Magic twig
  17. Proper wizard staff (may be topped with cursed or non-cursed orb)
  18. Robes woven from magical thread
  19. Enchanted wizard hat
  20. Being Ratatouilled by small magical creature hiding under mundane pointy hat

Tuesday, June 11, 2024

Flyover Country: Aliens

From "Creatures" by Giorgio Grecu

With my players soon to meet semi-important alien NPCs for the first time, it occurred to me that I should probably provide them with a little more info than the cursory sketches I gave them months ago. At least some of the characters know a decent amount about the common alien species—shouldn't their players? And then I thought, hey, I should just throw this up on the blog. Somebody will find it useful, probably!

Please do whatever you want with these guys. They were created with the tools in the SWN rulebook (p. 202 in the revised edition), and although they've got some SWN-specific elements to them (e.g., histories involving the Scream), as well as a very few elements specific to my campaign, they should be suitable, without much need for adaptation, to any game or setting that has psionics. They do all presuppose a setting where humans are the dominant species, though.

If you do use them in SWN, I've thrown in some not-yet-playtested origin foci for using them as PCs. That stuff would probably be a little trickier to adapt to other systems.

* * *

BETAAL

The betaal (also known as "arbusculae," singular "arbuscula," or "arbos"/"arbo" for short) construct much of their "bodies" from inert foreign matter, which they bind together with sturdy elements of the pseudomycorrhizal network that is their main organic component. Even more than other complex macroorganisms, the betaal test human ideas of what an individual organism or being is; each betaal is composed of multiple species of tiny, mutually interdependent plant- and fungus-like organisms that, entwined with each other and a found armature, form a humanoid being with a keen distributed intelligence.

The name "betaal" comes from Bengali and, like several other human names for these beings, derives from folklore about a supernatural creature capable of animating or inhabiting dead bodies; the humans who first encountered them saw shambling, rotting-looking forms emerge from organic detritus or the earth itself and associated them with legends of the walking dead; in some cases, it seems, betaal had used human bones, even entire skeletons, to form their armatures. In isolated human communities, superstitions associating betaal with the risen dead persist, but elsewhere newer prejudices prevail: the long-lived, slow-acting aliens are often derided as lazy, stupid, or both. They do spend a great time of time seemingly torpid, photosynthesizing or drawing nutrients from soil, water, and air, but they can be energetic, industrious, and downright willful when motivated. They are inclined to quarrelsome democracy and resent impositions on their liberties, particularly their freedom of movement.

The betaal are effectively hermaphroditic, and capable of sexual or asexual reproduction. They can, given time, energy, and inclination, shape themselves into nearly any roughly human-sized form, but once fully grown, cannot radically change that form without time and great difficulty. (They can, however, redistribute some of their "muscle" fibers to trade strength for dexterity or metabolism for mental processing power.) Those who live among humans (which is probably the substantial majority in the Sector) tend to take human-like form for ease and comfort of interaction with humans and in order to make convenient use of human tools, architecture, vehicles, and so forth. Nearly all incorporate into their anatomy structures that can produce human speech, which they render with a pleasant musicality, and most use Mandate or other human languages to communicate even among themselves. There are no consistent naming conventions among the betaal; they seem equally apt to take traditional human names, call themselves by flattering adjectives (e.g., Lucky, Winsome, or Roborant), or coin entirely novel words to name themselves.

Whether all betaal are constitutionally peripatetic or the scattered population encountered in the Sector represent the descendants of a self-selecting, adventurous minority is unclear. There are no betaal colonies of note in the Sector, and little in the way of advanced technology of their own manufacture (mostly heirlooms passed down from ancestors who traveled, almost certainly before the Scream, from the betaal homeworld or homeworlds). Today, betaal in the Sector are happy using human technology and working to advance science along human lines. A few very old wrecked betaal starships have been encountered; it seems that their equivalent of spike-drive travel depended on psionic training that was lost in the Scream. It is probable that most betaal ships were largely or entirely disassembled and incorporated into the "skeletons" of their crews' and passengers' offspring; this was apparently an intended aspect of their design.

Betaal PCs: Innate Ability (this character can draw food and water directly from air and soil), Flexible Attributes (once per day, this character can spend fifteen minutes redistributing their body fibers, gaining +1 to any one attribute bonus with a base value of +1 or less and losing -1 from any one attribute modifier with a base value of -1 or greater; the effect lasts until they next use this ability), and Tough (whenever this character rolls their hit dice to determine their maximum hit points, the first die they roll automatically counts as the maximum, and further hit dice that roll a 1 are rerolled)

* * *

CHUFYU

Unlike the other common alien species in the Sector, these reptile-like humanoids have speech organs that lend themselves readily to human languages, and their own languages are fairly easy for humans to grasp. Consequently, they alone are commonly known by an endonym: chufyu ("chafyu" in some dialects). Some Mandate speakers also call them "specks" or "palmers"; they often refer to themselves, when speaking Mandate or other human languages, as "sevomenoi" (singular "sevomenos," adjective "sevomeninos"), a Greek word, gleaned from their research into human theology and religious history, which they deem to be the best translation of "chufyu."

Chufyu tend, compared to other aliens in the Sector, to be well-received in human communities; although they are often seen as busybodies and nuisances, they are also stereotyped (not incorrectly) as friendly, cheerful, and charitable. Inveterate travelers, tinkerers, and hobbyists, they produce a broad range of artwork and handicrafts, which they trade liberally or simply bestow on human friends as gifts; most chufyu consider it a terrible vice to amass goods beyond what one can comfortably travel with.

Physically, chufyu are bipeds with colubrine heads, retractable membrane frills at their necks, and an exceptional sense of smell, but—especially compared to other aliens encountered in the Sector—broadly humanoid features: two eyes, two ears, two nostrils, a big toothy mouth, two arms with opposable thumbs, and only the stub of a tail. Some humans find them to have a pleasant, faintly lemony odor. They daub paint on their bodies in elaborate, albeit monochromatic, patterns (particularly prominent on their faces and arms, as these are often the only parts exposed) and on their armor, if and when they wear it. Their everyday clothing, which tends toward flowing robes, is richly patterned and brightly colored. Talented mimics, they nearly all speak, and most have also learned to read, Mandate. Many have mastered multiple human languages; old scriptural languages like Arabic, Hebrew, Greek, and Sanskrit are particularly appealing to them.

Their society is organized into "families," although the members of these small communities, ranging in size from several dozen to several thousand individuals (a typical family has several hundred members), are not all biologically related. Each family has a single leader; these latter are sometimes identified by humans as "teachers" or "gurus," although chufyu invariably describe them as "catechists." Religion, or something very much like what humans understand as religion, is all-important to the chufyu, but the practice of their faith is nearly impenetrable to outsiders, an ever-shifting journey through different rituals, prayers, and theological concepts.

Interchange of ideas and even members among different communities is common, and they have shown an almost overbearing interest in human religion, particularly in its thorniest, most complex aspects. Christian theological subjects, particularly Orthodox concepts of the Trinity, are objects of fascination for many chufyu communities. Some chufyu take human names, often from Abrahamic faith traditions (e.g., Fatima, Isaiah, and Paul), but they generally go by appellations from their own languages, which tend to be reasonably easy for humans to pronounce (e.g., Aksu, Ensa, Sib, and Unwob).

Chufyu PCs: Innate Ability (this character can track a scent as well as a trained hound and can mimic most sounds passably well; give them one extra language at character creation) and Unusual Movement Mode (this character can climb sheer walls, as long as they're not unusually smooth or slick)

SHANBEI

The shanbei—also known, somewhat derogatorily, as "flatheads" among Mandate speakers ("shanbei" is from the Chinese 扇贝, "scallop," but is not considered offensive)—are a species difficult to fit into a human taxonomy of life. They could be described as an exotic hybrid of insectile, avian, and vegetal features. Lichen-like colonies of cyanobacteria and fungi analogs mottle their carapaces; these symbiotes, which give the otherwise nondimorphic shanbei pronounced male/female color differences, help them synthesize essential nutrients. Because the symbiote colonies are hydrophilic, they don't handle arid conditions well, and this includes most offworld environments; shanbei tend to stick to humid regions on planetary surfaces, or to orbital habitats specially calibrated to suit them.

Shanbei have large, dish-like heads, with eyes in a ventral line from the rim of the dish down toward their mouthparts. They have long, digitigrade legs, spindly but muscular, that sprout from the bottom rear of a small torso which also sockets two large, strong arms and two small, dexterous ones. Although they cannot come close to approximating human speech, and humans similarly find their burbling and chittering vocalizations impossible to imitate, those who live among humans achieve understanding of the latter's languages, and those humans who have made the effort to learn shanbei speech have found most dialects reasonably easy to grasp with practice; the phonology is totally alien, but the structure surprisingly akin to that of human languages.

Shanbei society, before the Scream, was monarchic (with one queen per colony and one colony per planet, as far as is known today). They were an old civilization, but not an aggressive one, spreading through space at a stately, measured pace, putting each of their worlds in perfect order before embarking on the enormous project of establishing a new colony. Each colony was a complex and highly stratified society, with slight local variations on a great number of different castes, generally including breeder–workers, warriors, scholars, priests, rulers, and stewards. Several of these castes, most crucially the stewards, were psionically active; the stewards guided the reproduction of the colony. All castes, despite being physically dramatically distinct from one another, were genetically identical; their drastically different phenotypes were epigenetic expressions triggered psionically during gestation.

The Scream wiped out the psychic castes, including the stewards, and without their intervention, no castes other than breeder–workers can be reproduced. These sophonts, genetically engineered millennia ago for an inclination to be obedient, cooperative, hardworking, and nonviolent, have felt, ever since being separated from their queens by the Scream, unprotected, exposed, and acutely at risk. Groups of them tend to seek out the protection of strong human patrons (like regional or even planetary governments) and then form insular communities fiercely loyal to those patrons. Individual shanbei, or very small groups, may attach themselves to lower-level leaders, like a village chief, a criminal boss, or a ship's captain, and assimilate more fully into human society. Their names, translated into Mandate for the convenience of their interlocutors, are usually images from nature, especially the sea, often with colors appended, e.g., Red Cloud, Snag, Yellow Blossom, Green Wave, and Boulder.

Shanbei PCs: Environmental Native (this character is able to survive underwater), Natural Defenses (this character has a base Armor Class of 15 plus half their character level, rounded up), and Useful Immunity (this character is immune to atmospheric toxins/contaminants)

* * *

SHIFAR

The builders of the enigmatic ruins on Oriflamme, Barham, and Neith, still present throughout the Sector in small numbers, are most widely known as the shifar (an exonym probably derived from the Arabic "shafr," "shifr," or "shfar"—"blade," "cipher," or "steal")—singular "shifari" or "shifri." They are also called, in Mandate, "shivs" or "shivers." They belong to an intricately stratified oligarchic society whose inner workings are opaque to non-shifar; no living human has seen an active, inhabited shifari community, and few have even been aboard a shifari starship or station.

A labyrinth of social strictures governs shifari interactions with superiors, subordinates, peers, outsiders, and so forth; even their language takes remarkably different forms in different settings. It is complex to the point of being incomprehensible to humans, and its phonology impossible for humans to imitate besides; shifar vocalize not with their mouth-parts but by rubbing speech organs together, like certain Earth-origin insects. By contrast, shifar can reproduce human vocalizations well enough to make themselves understood by native speakers. In their limited dealings with humans, the shifar usually identify themselves with Mandate monikers that seem to be literal translations of shifari names or honorifics, e.g., Braves-the-Flame, Lambent Spear, Sword of Wisdom, and Guards-the-Hearth.

Maneuvers for social standing among the shifar are long, careful, and subtle; they quietly catalog innumerable minute dishonors, breaches of trust, and faux pas committed by their rivals and then compile them into cases brought before a court of honor. Such cases are usually (but not always) settled by a duel, usually (but not always) between the principals, with the defendant hobbled by some set of handicaps or impediments decided upon by the arbiters of the case.

Shifari bodies are very roughly human-shaped, but trilateral: three legs rooted at the base of the torso and three long arms (120 degrees apart) socketed in a rounded but roughly hexagonal clavicle-like bone below the head. The head is somewhat insectoid, and does not feature trilateral symmetry; instead, all three eyes (one very large and central, two about half its size to the sides) are contiguous, define the alien's face, and give it the excellent vision of an apex predator, with substantial peripheral awareness to boot. Shifar can turn their heads more than 180 degrees, but they do not rotate entirely freely; this and several other subtle anatomical features (the forearm, for instance, is slightly shorter than the rear ones) indicate a front side. Most of their exposed parts are composed of dark-green (or gray-green, or greenish-brown) chitin; more vulnerable areas, and their innards, are very pale. Their blood is bright yellow. Their eyes are luminous and iridescent, shimmering with a range of blues, violets, and pinks.

The shifar are rarely seen without weapons, and tend to carry two at a time, frequently a halberd-like blade with two hands and a pistol-like ranged weapon with the third, or a rifle-like weapon with two and a short sword with the third. They usually use their forearm for fine manipulation. Tools and weapons are, to a degree, interchangeable between humans and shifar, although the latter, with their more flexible arms, tend to have an easier time of it.

The shifar commonly encountered in the Sector have access to technology commensurate with that of the most advanced human organizations, but there is evidence that the "higher" shifar have even more advanced technology. Their typical armor is dark and form-fitting, with a bulbous, translucent helmet onto the interior surface of which a HUD is projected. Broad-"shouldered" tunic-like garments with structural ribbing and intricate draping are their typical clothing, at least among starship crews. High-ranking officers wear a rigid headpiece that creates a halo-like effect when seen from the front.

Shifari architecture, encountered only as centuries-old ruins by humans, features helical towers and pillars, triangular buttresses joined by arched concavities, elaborate wall carvings, and enclosed courtyards; these structures make extensive use of stone, chitin, and coral-like bone. Elements grouped into threes or nines are common; tessellating triangular tiles are ubiquitous floor features, and many buildings feature a nonagonal nave where an 80-degree entrance hall meets three 40-degree transepts.

Shifari PCs: Origin Skill (this character receives their choice of Shoot or Stab as a bonus skill) and Strong Attribute (this character gains a +1 bonus to their Dexterity modifier, up to a maximum of +3)

* * *

VRONS

The vrons ("vrone" or "vrona" to linguistic purists—the name is derived from a Slavic language, probably Russian—but "vrons," singular "vron," to most Mandate speakers) are an ancient species of psychically sensitive cyborgs. They prize the life of the mind, the pursuit of knowledge, and intellectual self-improvement, but fear and loathe, with an intensity hard for most humans to fathom, the violation of the mind's autonomy. Nothing, to a vron, is more repulsive, dangerous, or loathsome than a telepath, and many vrons take a dim (bordering on murderous) view of all psychics.

Physically, no two adult vrons are much alike—their biomechanical self-modification is expressed in highly individualized ways—but all share some general characteristics. They are bipeds slightly taller than humans, on average, with broad shoulders and strong necks supporting large Y-shaped heads that jut forward somewhat from their torsos (the upper lobes' backward tilt keeps the head's overall center of gravity above the body's middle point). A vron's organic body features two arms and the vestigial stump of a tail; most maintain these features, although some add extra limbs and some remove the stump, redistributing weight elsewhere. All are born in vitro.

Vrons in the Sector tend to speak a wide variety of human languages, prizing linguistic mastery as a worthy intellectual pursuit (and being aided by synthetic memory and translation aids). The vocalizers they employ can mimic nearly any accent flawlessly, but by a quirk of history and vron psychology, many older vrons (the vast majority of their kind) find that a light Slavic accent sounds most authentically "like them"; the first human languages they encountered and mastered were Slavic, and the habit has stuck. Even some younger vrons have picked up on this peculiarity, especially in their pronunciation of Mandate.

Although the typical vron, even "naked," has few exposed organic elements, many of their mechanical components are fragile or otherwise vulnerable to damage; exposed wires, tubes, and valves are not uncommon. For this reason, and as a matter of custom, vrons strongly prefer outerwear that protects all, or almost all, of their body. Those who cannot secure a deflector array or FEP often favor elaborate powered exoskeletons that can interface with their mechanical components; these can be noisy and energy-hungry, and are almost always bulky, complicating the vron's ability to move discreetly or even maneuver in enclosed spaces. The ornamentation vrons favor looks subtle to the point of dullness to most human eyes; their armor is usually matte metal with faint but intricate patterns etched into it, and their garments thick, dark, heavy robes with minute but tremendously complex patterns woven into the fabric.

No vron is psychic or even partially psychic in human terms, but all have what might be considered a wild metapsionic talent—they can instinctively, like a trained human metapsion, visually and audibly detect the use of psychic powers in their vicinity, and can often recognize the source. They are also naturally resistant, themselves, to psychic powers, a talent which some vrons have managed to refine or augment to a significant extent, particularly in defense against telepathy.

The vron yen for intellectual achievement takes a psychological toll; those who fail to live up to their own standards of sagacity fall into terminal depression, and even those who have some modest accomplishments to speak of are often eccentric and troubled. In point of fact, though, the vast majority of vrons do wield unusually keen intellects, even if they can bring them to bear only in some narrow niche. Many are experts in engineering or applied sciences; the stereotype of the vron as a mad-genius cyberneticist has its roots in fact.

Vrons will readily accept the authority of their fellows (and even humans or other aliens) if they recognize them as intellectual superiors, and will work cooperatively with those they consider to be their peers. Those they see as inferiors, however, they usually regard imperiously, expecting unthinking obedience and often raging at what they see as recalcitrance or insubordination. Their criteria for these categories—superior, peer, and inferior—can be inscrutable to outsiders. Although some especially flexible corporate and military organizations manage to make use of vrons' talents, most find them difficult to fit into any hierarchy other than an intellectual one of their own devising.

Vrons left biological sex behind many centuries ago; they are decanted as sexless individuals and construct much of their own physiology themselves as they grow up. Their ancestors, however, exhibited moderate sexual dimorphism, with females generally larger and stronger and males more colorful. Contemporary vron attitudes toward gender can be divided into three camps of roughly equal and size and influence: those who identify as female, those who identify as non-binary but recognize gender among others, and those entirely indifferent to gender not only among vrons but among all species. Many of the former two groups, particularly the first, regard the male gender in other species as an embarrassing atavism.

Almost no vron, perhaps none at all, identify as male, but they do confound humans by frequently choosing names and synthetic voices that read as male to human acquaintances. Whatever names vrons have among their own kind, they typically identify themselves to humans with aspirational names drawn from human history or mythology. Russian tsars; famous generals, philosophers, and scientists; figures from Slavic folklore; and Greco-Roman deities are all popular choices, e.g., Ivan, Napoleon, Plato, Volta, Koschei, and Hyperion.

Vron PCs: Origin Skill (this character receives their choice of Fix, Know, or Program as a bonus skill) and Wild Talent (this character has an ability equivalent to the level-0 core metapsionic technique, Psychic Refinement: they can visually and audibly detect the use of psychic powers; if both the source and target are visible to them, they can tell who’s using the power, even if it’s normally imperceptible; and they gain a +2 bonus on any saving throw versus a psionic power)

20 Modestly Inauspicious Omens


Inspired by / lifted from Hen Ogledd's "Trouble." 

  1. A window cracks as you pass by.
  2. An empty staircase creaks as though trod upon.
  3. A single clap of thunder booms out of a fair sky.
  4. An icy gust blows through your hair.
  5. A flash of light blinds you for a moment.
  6. The faintest whiff of ozone sets your nose twitching.
  7. A little chunk of stone falls from above and barely misses you.
  8. A cloud of fruit bats tumbles from their roost and swirls around you.
  9. Your jaw clenches involuntarily, grinding your teeth painlessly but noisily.
  10. A black cat crosses your path, stops, and yaks up a foul-smelling hairball.
  11. You feel a sharp pain as though you've stepped on a nail, but there's nothing there.
  12. A tiny puff of black smoke belches from the earth.
  13. A toad croaks in an almost-human voice, but you can't quite make out the words.
  14. You nearly slip on a broken string of red beads.
  15. The light shifts for a moment and you see a doorway beneath a puddle's surface.
  16. Every bell for miles around rings out at once, just once.
  17. A pack of dogs that had been trailing you suddenly slink away, whining.
  18. A constellation of green eyes shine at you from the dark, then vanish.
  19. A drunkard singing tunelessly by the roadside names you in their song.
  20. Curtains swing behind the closed windows of an abandoned house.

Thursday, June 6, 2024

The Best PC Games of My Adult Life

Strife (an underrated classic!)

 

When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things.

As a kid, I would play almost any computer game, including literally any shooter. All the id and Raven games, obviously, and all the 3D Realms games, and all the LucasArts ones. All of Rare's shooters on the N64 (yes, even Jet Force Gemini). All the Turoks. But more esoteric stuff, too: Operation Body Count. Rise of the Triad. Redneck Rampage. Rebel Moon. Chasm: The Rift. Blood (and Blood 2, which, God help me, I absolutely loved). Strife (an underrated classic!). Every single iteration of Chex Quest.

As I got older, I had less time for games, and more of my gaming time was occupied by one miserable Skinner box at a time: World of Warcraft, Destiny 2, Hearthstone, Marvel Snap. I did find time for the occasional other game, and I did eventually kick the slot machine habit, but my tastes had changed. I've become less patient, or perhaps more discerning, or maybe both. Whatever it is, I bounce off of most PC games (and videogames in general) in a way I never did when I was young. I'd generally rather be playing board games, or playing TTRPGs, or reading.

But a few PC games released in my latter days have made lasting impressions on me. Let's just say, arbitrarily, that I became an adult in 2010. Here are ten games I've loved in the past fourteen or fifteen years, plus notes about a few related titles:

 

10. Brigador

A perfect little retro shooter. Wonderful integration of music, art, writing, and gameplay. Satisfying to play, but stompy shooty mech combat alone wouldn't have held my attention for 30 hours; happily, the world and atmosphere are totally absorbing. It's a fabulously inventive vision of the future, a refreshing change of pace from the omnipresent Space America, Space Rome, and Off-Brand Dune.

 

9. Teleglitch

Highly original, compellingly challenging, endlessly replayable. Puts lo-fi graphics to better use than 99% of retro (or retro-ish, retro-inspired, whatever) games out there. Moody and atmospheric despite being top-down pixel art. In a funny way, it's probably the closest anybody's come to recreating what made (and makes) Quake so magical. (Stay tuned for my inevitable “Actually, Quake is the greatest game of the past 15 years, and of all time” follow-up post.)

 

8. Subnautica

Absolutely captivating, and briefly tricked me into thinking I liked survival games and base-building. Tried The Long Dark, No Man's Sky, etc. Nope! I just like Subnautica. Showed a way forward for first-person action games that involve danger, excitement, and freedom of movement without being a nonstop bloodbath—a path regrettably few have followed yet.

 

7. SOMA

There are a lot of on-rails story-driven first-person games out there these days, and most of them aren't great. You've got stuff like Spec Ops: The Line, which does interesting things with the medium but just isn't very fun or interesting. You've got stuff like Firewatch, which tells a good story charmingly but leaves you thinking, But why was that a game? SOMA is the rare example of a powerful, effectively told story that really depends on the digital (and first-person) medium. It's not perfect—the gameplay can be frustrating in places—but it's haunting.

 

 6. Crusader Kings II

I was a Civilization obsessive for most of my life, logging hundreds if not thousands of hours on every iteration starting with the first (Civ V, with about 950 hours played on Steam, probably represents a distant third place after II and IV). I do play Civ VI occasionally—I've got friends who love it and keep trying to rope me into multiplayer games—but I will never again be obsessed the way I once was.

Yeah, part of it is that they've just glommed too much stuff onto the old Civ chassis, and part of it is that I'm older and tastes change, but mostly it's that CK2 opened some third eye in my forehead and I can never look at grand strategy or alternate-history simulation the same way again. I haven't even tried CK3 and perhaps I never will (can't say I love the Paradox business model) but I had some incredibly memorable times with CK2—and learned a shocking amount about medieval history and geography. It probably says something that, of all these games, CK2 is the one I had a thousand screenshots of and felt compelled to show as I played it, not just a representative image yanked from the internet.

 

5. Shadowrun: Hong Kong

Among the many old-school RPGs launched in that curious flurry of Kickstarter activity a decade ago, Shadowrun Returns was something of an also-ran, raising less than half as much funding as Torment or Project Eternity, and considerably less than even Wasteland 2. It was a great little game, though. (Whereas I found Torment enjoyable but disappointing, Pillars a tedious slog, and Wasteland 2 not even worth finishing. Gotta give a shout to Tyranny, though—the underrated and overlooked little sibling of Torment and Pillars is by far the best game of the three, and would probably be my eleventh pick for this top-ten list.)

Returns was followed by an even better sequel, Dragonfall, and then another, still better sequel, Hong Kong. It's a wonderful setting, has wonderful characters, and tells a fascinating story whose stakes (unlike those of most RPGs, including nearly all of the above) are minor enough to feel real but major enough to feel meaningful. The devs lavished a fabulous level of detail on every little corner of the game. One of the best text-driven games of recent memory.

 

 4. Hardspace: Shipbreaker

Did somebody say “first-person action games that involve danger and excitement without being a nonstop bloodbath”? I would love this game just for its ambition, trying to imagine the blue-collar labor of the spacefaring future and turn that into a game. I love the aesthetic, of course. (Shout-out to Blackbird for Homeworld: Deserts of Kharak, too; it's nothing new in terms of RTS gameplay, but the setting, the visual design, the art, the sound—absolute perfection. Those animatics!) I love the slightly hokey but sweet story of solidarity and industrial action. It might have sneaked into this list on those strengths even without good gameplay. The gameplay, happily, is outstanding: cerebral and visceral at the same time, exciting, immersive. A rare and triumphant example of genuine innovation in PC games.

 

 3. Control

Kind of the AAA counterpart to Brigador. Incredibly high-quality production in every respect, with everything working together toward a united purpose. So stylish that you find yourself thinking, Wait, why aren't all games like this? I would play games all the time if they were all like this. Outstanding gameplay, fascinating setting, engrossing story, just a delight from top to bottom.

 

 2. Cyberpunk 2077

We've all been dreaming of a boundless open-world sandbox ever since we tried Daggerfall or whatever as kids. I've soured on Bethesda's games, step by step, to the point that I never finished Skyrim and never even picked up Fallout 4. And I have never been a fan of Arkane's so-called immersive sims. I played Dishonored, I played Prey. They were good, but I couldn't love them. They're not immersive. They're toyboxes full of checklists; they don't feel like living worlds. Same goes for the recent Deus Ex games.

Cyberpunk 2077 is not a toybox. It's the first game of its type I've played that smothers that checkbox-ticking instinct, and it does so with sheer Borgesian vastness. In most of these games, you read every note, open every door, rifle through every shelf—because it's a game, and the developers put this stuff in there for you to look at, and you wouldn't want to miss any secrets. In Cyberpunk 2077, you do not. Why would you go into people's houses and paw through their stuff? Why would you crawl down into every culvert looking for hidden stashes? Why would you read every single news article and grocery list and chapter of erotica you encounter? You don't do that shit in the real world; it would be insane. It would be insane in Cyberpunk 2077, too, which is more like a real world than any game I've ever experienced.

Oh, and the characters are unforgettable, the absolute mountain of music positively slaps, the gameplay (especially after the recent 2.0 overhaul) is solid, and the aesthetic is matchless. Retro-futuristic aesthetics have a tendency to look inauthentic, even if they're cool. Everything's too consistent, too similar; there's no sense of history, of groundedness. That's the case, jarringly, in the recent Fallout titles, in Prey, in the Bioshock series, etc. The artists working on Cyberpunk 2077 anticipated that problem and, preposterously, created an entire century of fictional visual arts, architecture, and product design. A century of evolving trends in clothing, automotive design, industrial architecture, and so forth. It's magnificent.

 

 1. Disco Elysium

Boy, it sure sounds like I loved Cyberpunk 2077, huh? What could top that? How about…the second-greatest game of all time?

Disco Elysium could only have been made by a bunch of starving artists who started out with no idea how to make a game. It breaks every rule and is always better for it. This is a heartbreaking work of staggering genius, but for real. Probably the only game that ever made me cry. Definitely the only game that ever made me consider getting a tattoo—and when you find out how obsessed with Quake I am, that's going to become really impressive.

As with several of the above, this one scratches my itch for a magnificent integration of setting, writing, music, art, and everything else, and here it's really all cranked to 11. The best writing in a game, ever. Some of the best music. Some of the best voice acting (and my God, the quantity of it!). One of the most indelible settings. The only knock I can make against it is that it's such a fucking computer game. It's impenetrable to people who didn't grow up on CRPGs, and that's a shame because I know a lot of non-gamers who would adore it if they could just crack its hard shell.

Honorable mentions: Frozen Synapse, Titanfall 2, Portal 2, Heaven's Vault

One especially dishonorable mention that might get its own special blog post someday: Bioshock 2

Sunday, June 2, 2024

Lore24: May

"Deep Castle" by Leon Tukker

 

Continuing from April.

1. A starship, especially a warship, "in yarak" is ready for action.

2. The Manubial Endowment was the period in Imperial history when the spoils of the Great Conjugation poured, decade after decade, back to Aaru and the other worlds at the heart of the Empire with the Emperor's fleets, creating an extremely unusual surplus, and diversity, of building and decorative materials and leading to a prolonged boom in the construction of monumental architecture and the flowering of many artistic movements.

3. Among the universal responsibilities of Commissars moving among the worlds of the Continuum is carrying genetic material from planet to planet in order to stock creches with genes both diverse and consistent throughout the Continuum, in order to prevent population drift.

4. Estrapade is a planet whose oceans are home to an extremely resilient halophilic bacterium engineered in times past to devour organic matter (and then lapse into torpor when no food is present). It is extremely unsafe to set foot in the oceans even briefly, and the inhabitants can't use plastic, polymer, rubber, wood, or any other organic compounds for the hulls of their vessels.

5. Folktales abound, and have since time out of mind, about manmade "gates" and wormholes that can whisk starships across light-years in the blink of an eye. Some tell that such phenomena can even carry people backward through time. There is no evidence for such gates' existence, but they are a common object of quests; seekers (or charlatans who would prey on them) often claim to know the location of a gate or door to an unplundered paradise world or into the prelapsarian past.

6. The Kritarchy is a volume of space at the dissolving margin of the Empire, surrounded by fallen baronies and ghost systems, where the laws of the Emperor are followed in absentia and the jurists who adjudicate those laws have become quasi-monarchic rulers.

7. Travel long and far enough and you are bound to encounter one story or another about a tower, vault, prison, space station, or other lonely site where a figure of vague but tremendous significance—a prophet, a sorcerer, a messiah, perhaps the Incarnate herself—waits or is held in hibernation, meditation, occultation, or perhaps merely mundane reefersleep. You might even encounter such a site, tightly guarded by a militant cult of some sort. What would you actually find if you penetrated their defenses and entered the place? One can only guess.

8. One of the many technological bogeyman rumored to still lurk in the far margins of the Pale, or to wait beyond its limits for those who would defy the Rule is the Maw—also called the Phage, the Eaters, the Many Mouths, and by other names. This is, in some tellings, a crude synthetic intelligence that gobbles up raw materials and mindlessly spits out machines and weapons for a long-dead economy or to fuel long-forgotten wars. There are other, more sinister versions of the tale.

9. Nearly all bordars and vassals in the Empire believe in the supernatural or paranatural, but the specifics of their beliefs vary greatly. All acknowledge that saints or wali existed in the past, and most attribute keramat and barakah to the nobility, or at least to the ancestors of the present nobility, but many take a dim view of any seeming magic performed by commoners in the here and now, decrying it as witchcraft or demonology.

10. The vessels that ply the mysterious paths of the River are called "baris" (or "barises," "barques," "barks," or "barges").

11. The River has many names in different cultures: the Dark River, Heaven's River, the Unreflected Path, the Shepherd's Road, the Road of Thieves.

12. One of the fundamental laws of the Empire is the Peace of God, which is meant to protect those who cannot (or must not) defend themselves, like children, peasants, and clergy, from violence.

13. The Grandfather Clades are the epihuman lineages that are known, or firmly believed, to predate the Rule and are considered true humans (as opposed to the latter-day abominations brought into being by Rule-breaking apostates).

14. The Rule forbids violation of the laws of causality and relativity, whence the near-universal ban on research into FTL technologies, and whence some of the uneasiness, especially among those most closely bound to the Rule, with the use of River barises.

15. Atavites are probably-mythical holdovers from the Age of Strife or before, apostate humans (or demi-humans, or post-humans) who cling to the wicked ways of the worlds that were. They are sometimes conflated with Anchorites, although most hold that the two groups are distinct.

16. There are important holy sites scattered around the Empire, mostly among its most central worlds, including quite a few in the vicinity of Spire; the Assizes are an occasion for the faithful among the nobility and their comitates to visit many important sites. A few especially holy sites are light-years removed from the Imperial seat, however, and the burden imposed by a pilgrimage to these makes undertaking one seem all the worthier.

17. One area in which the Empire's generally laissez-faire attitude toward cultural drift is contradicted is the language of the uppermost castes and classes; another one, closely related, is their formal dress. Court at Spire during the Assizes is a chaotic, crowded affair enough without a riot of bewildering provincial costumes making rank and station difficult to ascertain at a glance. Changes in court fashion happen only in the smallest details, and even then at a glacial pace.

18. Among the noble rulers of some of the march worlds most distant from Spire, and especially those dukes palatine responsible for governing multiple systems, it is customary to divide the nomarch's duties among more than two persons. Triplets are especially auspicious, but any set of three or four siblings (included adopted children) will do, in order to have one coequal nomarch to govern, one to carry out the erres and attend to martial matters (or even two to divide these duties), and one to attend the Assizes (the journeys to and from which may, across a distance of ten or twelve light-years, require the better part of a normal lifespan).

19. The Assizes are an opportunity for various important servants and officers of noble households to visit Spire and hold conferences with their fellows; many of the functions of the Continuum's Ministries of Coordination are accomplished, in a somewhat haphazard and piecemeal fashion, via these infrequent meetings. The tutors of the noble houses visit the Imperial archives and consult with one another; the quartermasters of their mesnies visit the halls of the Worshipful Company of Armorers.

20. On most of the worlds of the Kritarchy, it became customary for the sitting kritarch to nominate a successor; subsequently customary for that successor to be chosen, trained, and groomed for the role; and finally common for the successor to be the sitting kritarch's kin. On Alaka, however, circumstances led to a tradition wherein the order of succession is established by a grand examination of all the minutiae of the Rule and Imperial Law and the accumulated common law of Alaka. Any free person (and on Alaka, there are no serfs, although there are indentured slaves) between the ages of 15 and 45 is permitted to sit for the exam.

21. The Continuum does not have currency. What is needed is provided freely to all; what is not deemed needful is generally not provided.

22. A burly older man sits on a chest down by the docks, quietly but keenly watching the starport's foot traffic. He is lightly dressed, showing off his muscular body. He has no augments or prosthetics, but is heavily tattooed; many of the tattoos feature an ancient alphabet unfamiliar to the vast majority of travelers, and a language known only to a minuscule handful, perhaps only to the old man's kith and kin back home. The words—or are they initialisms?—VAQT and SABR are spelled out across his knuckles.

23. Among the gravest sins of the Machine Age, according to a common folk myth, was finding a way to drive down through the Earth into Hell and mining that dark place. Many variations on the story exist: that the people of olden times sucked energy from the souls of the damned, affronting the angels, or that they robbed riches from the King of Hell Himself, driving Him to bury men's cities in great earthquakes and volcanic eruptions.

24. One widespread Redemptionist tradition holds that the Incarnate will not return until every instance of Rule-breaking (especially Rule-violating technology) in the Pale is eradicated. This event or process will be, or for some proactive cults is, called the Great Simplification.

25. Persistent malcontents, rabble-rousers, and troublemakers in the Continuum are eventually forcibly removed from the communities whose life and work they disturb, to be reeducated and resettled in a distant new home. As a rule, they are not seen or heard from again.

26. Starfarers tell of mysterious "cold colonies"—dead to sensors, apparently lifeless, but active and purposeful, if one knows how and where to look—that are supposed to be home to Anchorites, Atavites, or God knows what else.

27. Many Imperial systems have an outlying area—sometimes an asteroid belt, sometimes a marginally habitable outer planet or array of moons, sometimes an archipelago of stations, sometimes a region encompassing all of these—to which criminals and other undesirables are banished and where restive bordars are tacitly permitted to flee.

28. Independent interstellar traders, who don't have access to the Company's wealth of information, cogitative power, or limitless resources, are uncommon but influential, moving as fast as possible and dealing in high-value goods unlikely to have their markets disrupted by cultural change or the rare burst of technological innovation. Weapons, which meet these criteria and cannot be moved on the River in large quantities, are a perennial favorite.

29. Some of the worlds of the Continuum are closer to Imperial systems than they are to the rest of Continuum space, and particularly far from the core worlds of the Continuum. Those that have resources sought after in the Empire are (relatively) frequently visited by traders, making them an ongoing nuisance to the Ministry of Safety.

30. The arrival of a Commission vessel in a Continuum system, especially a far-flung one, is one of the most exciting events of any given decade (or several-decade period). Although some citizens go into service that takes them to stars, and a few are occasionally removed from their worlds by Commissar Peacekeepers or ship out with independent traders (or even pirates), for the vast majority, the only opportunity to see another world is in the complex calculus of population exchange. The Ministry of Disposition is forever balancing the needs of the myriad Continuum worlds for genetic and cultural interchange against the desires of individual citizens to migrate (or to stay put) and attempting to predict the future needs of distant worlds, especially those in less-coordinated regions. As far as possible, the Executive Council tries to meet migration needs with willing volunteers.

31. On Brontide, generations of conservationist barons enclosed more and more land as preserves to be cultivated as Earth-like wild places, pushing their bordars into ever-smaller regions and imposing increasingly draconian laws on them, including banishment to the outer system for any family that had more than one child. Today, the Baroness Kassa and her household are nearly the only people living on the surface; even her broader administrative staff are largely restricted to orbital habitats.

Kicking Out the Jams