Alright, everyone: the goal here is to have a roster of finalized characters to choose the party from by this Friday, November 1st. Ask any last questions you may have, wrap up the creation process, and have a short backstory available for your characters by then if you’re still interested in joining the game.
I will choose the party based on my observations of the following values: overall party balance among the different roles and skills to succeed in an RPG, open-ended backstories that display creative thinking while leaving the GM lots of room to introduce conflict, and willingness to adapt to a setting that is still somewhat fluid and with which I intend to tell a worthwhile story.
My goal is simple: I want to put some substance in the form that is dungeon punk (even though at this point, I’m encroaching into magic-punk territory), which is normally an aesthetic and less of a unified genre. The more you’re committed to helping me with that, the better, and I’m committed to delivering a good time along the way.
Remember: finish your submissions by November 1st. Once you’re done, or if you’re already finished, please (re)post your character submission down below so I can add them to my list and begin the selection process. Good luck!
Estvic positively beams at being addressed by someone who is clearly a hero of his. "Ever since I was a child, we've called the surface our home. My father is here, and I believe he would be thrilled to make your acquaintance! ...well, not 'here', but back at our... temporary home. I have yet to meet any more rufalg, but I heard that few venture up to the surface lands in these times."
Meanwhile, Cardiff says to Zenebe, "We believe it covered the entire region, from the forest all the way to the Enscorn Plains to the north. It is exceptionally strange, but the effects have been... well, inconsistent. Certain areas are completely untouched, while others were devastated beyond repair - mostly our dwellings and structures, things made by hand. Some of our number disappeared into the light, and we cannot help but fear for their safety." He lowers his voice before adding, "Hearing that your company suffered a similar fate does not bode well. I am loathe to think of how the others will react."
Finally, he surveys your weary faces and seems to arrive at a conclusion. "We have kept you up late enough. To verify our safety and yours, we will keep our own watch some distance away so that you have some privacy. Let us speak more of these matters in the morning."
Edited once I realized I'd skipped Thurmoud's dialogue. Sorry about that!
The nearest settlement would be Sutgart, a few days' journey on foot. It's located north-northeast from your current location.
"I have smelled far worse than little Rimeclaw. He seems like a fine beast," Leili replies with a gentle smile. "I do not doubt that he will do his best to keep us safe as we travel. Speaking of which, do you know the way from here?" The last question is directed at Wydell, who appears to be mulling over the local topography for the best route away from the wreckage of the village.
Do it. I can work with everything I’ve seen so far.
Let’s see more ideas and backgrounds! I’d love to have a functional party selected by the 31st. Also, the Discord server has been rife with info dumps lately, so stop by to get your lore fix!
To be specific, I'd love to take the half-orc FCB for inquisitors (+1/2 to Intimidate and Knowledge to identify monsters), and it seems fitting enough.
Unique FCBs for the custom races are something I've been meaning to work on for a while. I'll get around to it at some point.
In the meantime, yggdrians share some similarities with half-orcs, so feel free to use their racial FCB in place of the normal options.
"You certainly could," the elven woman says, "but that would be inefficient. I am Leili Alafir." She nods to you by way of introduction, and then points to the other humans and the eidolon. "Who are your companions? Not much for words, are they?"
A thought occurs to her. She adds, "Er, which way will we be going? I am unfamiliar with the region beyond this village."
"A matter of phrasing, but that is true," Cardiff replies to Zenebe. "Many of us come from farmland to the east. Our dwellings were ruined by the Riftspawn, so we made a new home for ourselves in this forest. Then the blast... well, you know the rest."
He turns to Deepshadow and shakes his head, his features falling into a frown. "None have crossed our path. Our hosts only alerted us to your presence, and no others'."
As greetings are exchanged, a gasp is heard from the trees. A young half-dwarf emerges into the light with a mace on his hip, his face glowing with awe... or maybe it's just the campfire. "Clan Lighthammer?! Reamatu's ashen apron, I never thought I'd meet one of you in person! My father told me all about you!"
Cardiff just sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Forgive Estvic there. He can be... excitable."
I'll admit that I inadvertently overlooked background skills. I think it's a good system overall and want to say "yes", seeing as how not many people would actually have any problems with it.
Wealth by Level: I know it’s not much at level 2, but since this is a “sink or swim” setting where actions speak louder than gold, money is the least of your worries.
Character Creation: when assigning ability scores, please don’t go above 20 after racial adjustments. Try to keep the min/maxing to a minimum! The cheese can come after you unlock the good stuff after playing for a while.
I mean, if you don't get your second class till 4th level, feats from levels 1 & 3 need to be "mundane". Am I right? Will there be an option to retrain, or something?
That comes with the territory - anyone who’s just getting started with a new set of skills, especially those involving spellcasting, won’t have the same grasp on the material as their more-experienced peers.
Retraining is absolutely allowed. In special cases, if a feat or class feature has never been used, you can even do it for free, trading it out for something more useful.
It seemed that death was absent that day, and the yggdrian clad in gray was making his way up the steep hill on the southern end of the town. Miles away, in the valley below and behind him, he knew the expanse of the shining city was straddling the gently-winding river, a metallic wound on the world he had given so much to protect.
He had looked over his shoulder enough times lately. Now was the time to look ahead.
A grim façade affixed to a crumbling building awaited him at the top of the hill. The cool mountain air pushed the rough wooden sign declaring the building to be The Alchemical Solution on its rusted hinges, creating a sorrowful song of screeches as it languished nearby, and as he approached the door, he was met with a cocktail of smells that almost brought him to his knees. Pulling his fur-lined coat up over his nose and mouth, he pulled the door open and stepped inside, uttering a silent prayer to Lunathre that this wouldn’t take long.
The crooked doorframe gave way to an impressively clean and polished interior, and while the smell hadn’t gone anywhere, the yggdrian wondered if he had. Rows of lacquered shelves held pristine-looking bottles full of various tinctures with intricate stoppers denoting their function – a hawk’s wing for flight, a bison’s head for strength, a cracked skull for poison. A few caught his eye, but he still had a few good weeks before needing to stock up again.
“Isn’t it a bit tasteless for a yggdrian to wear fur?” As the yggdrian looked toward the back, he saw the speaker: an impeccably well-dressed wildling, her satin robes adorned with small sapphires in tasteful, simplistic patterns. Her hair, reminiscent of an orchid blooming in the spring, was held back by a pronged pin decorated with a stylized image of a blazing flame. She smirked at his bemusement, and that was when he saw it. Something about the eyes…
He replied, “Isn’t it tasteless for a spirit of the land to wear a mortal?”
Her smirk widened into a full-on grin. “Brooding and perceptive. Quite the catch, I’d say. Come to win back someone’s heart who didn’t realize how good they had it with you?” She gave him a shameless once-over, laughing to herself at whatever she was seeing… and he had a pretty good idea of where she was looking.
“No.” The shop was stifling to him, and the smell was already seeping into his clothes. Everything about the place made him want to run, break free, rush through the endless expanse of forest waiting for him back home… but home was too far away. “I need to buy supplies,” he continued, producing a neatly-folded parchment from inside his coat. “You have a reputation for excellence.”
“And you have no reputation at all… yet,” the wilding said. With the parchment in hand, she unfolded it and glanced at the contents. Only then did her self-assured smile melt away. “Looking to start a new life as a Hedger, are we? If you’re looking to break the law, go do it somewhere else.”
The yggdrian leaned over the counter, fixing the wildling with an earnest, yet deadly stare. “I would rather do away with the law than break it. I’m no Hedger – I’m the voice of the world we threw away, and one way or another, I intend to bring it back.”
She stared back at him for a long time, longer than he was comfortable with. The spirits were unpredictable these days, driven to the brink of madness by the turmoil of the lands they were bonded to. Of course, it wasn’t like he had many options left.
Finally, she laughed. “I like you, boy! You make me feel young again. Pray to Yavezma tonight, concede your desires to me, and I will help you with your task.” She slid down off the counter to the floor with the list of ingredients in tow. “Come back tomorrow, and you will find what you need waiting for you.”
The back door closed, and she was gone. Without any reason to stay longer, he rushed out the door, sucking down a lungful of clean mountain air. The view of the town stretched before him, and beyond that, the visage of the city he hated. It gave him strength. It would keep him on his path, a righteous one indeed.
Now was the time to look ahead. A new world was coming, and he would be its messenger.
The basic premise is that he's a man who is possessed by the spirit of a demigod (which is where all his divine mojo comes from).
Funny that you mention that, because I immediately came up with a great plot twist after reading your backstory. I'll just, uh, keep it to myself for now.
Critzible wrote:
I am working on a Human Questioner Investigator with a panache for firearms. Thinking a Bladerunnerwesque former Police Officer and Corporate goon turned private dick kinda character.
Yeah, I can see that. Firearms are "the poor man's magic" in this setting, since most people carry compact wands and scrolls instead. There are a few knight-companies that you might consider for your character's backstory.
Ludoshield - the straight shooters, your stereotypical mercs in shining chrome. Unlike most of their contemporaries, they can actually preach their rhetoric about honor and still keep a straight face. Of course, whenever something seems too good to be true, it usually is...
Black Bramble - the dirty cheats, killers without a real cause. Nobody goes up against one of their elite squads and lives to tell about it, making them a favorite for proxy wars and private security.
Pillars of Bragthi - the old guard, pioneers of the modern knight-company. What started off as an all-rufalg group of knight-errants turned the continent on its head once it got privatized and started fighting its own battles.
Hierophant - the zealous evangelists, every common man's worst nightmare on a sharp stick. Fighting for all that is holy or unholy, depending on the day, they make the other knight-companies look like puppy-cuddlers once they get riled up.
I imagine this little dude with a bright (but short) mohawk down the middle of his head, raggedy street wear, looking incongruously harmful... busting heads.
I love the archetype of street samurai as a whole, and taking a decisively cyberpunk character type and dropping them into a 150% fantasy setting would be hilarious. I approve.
Tilnar wrote:
Was thinking a 'street' shaman, probably a Wilder -- working under the assumption that the spirits he'd be calling in and talking to would be... less than pleased.. about the way that their brethren are being used in the "new" world. So he'd be helping the little guy while not loving those who are binding spirits and souls.
Good choice! This gives me a chance to wax poetic on the soul-binding controversy in a bit more detail for any interested readers out there.
Soul-binding and You(r soul): A Guide to the New Ralczan's Magical Economy:
It all started with reincarnation. Everyone used to believe that souls were immortal, but when they came back in a new body and claimed to be the reincarnation of some famous something-or-other with the intent of reclaiming their lost fortunes, who was wise enough to say otherwise?
Enter the Signifers, who came up with an ethereal stamp you could put on your soul to identify it across lifetimes, giving you a means to see who's who and what belongs to them! However, while it may have abated a few legal headaches at the time, it gave rise to an entirely new problem: with the permanence of souls now irrefutably on display for the world to see, and with the prevalence of magic getting out of hand too quickly for anyone to stop, some enterprising (read: unscrupulous) individuals thought it'd be a great idea to use souls as collateral, and eventually a form of currency, when negotiating business deals among mortals.
It was a terrible idea, so the public jumped all over it and had it written into law immediately. There's no accounting for taste, apparently.
Now, souls are one of many units of economic measurement, and the contracts that bind them are among the most difficult to negotiate, let alone circumvent. If you ever break a soul-binding contract, your soul is forfeit. Gone. Poof. No exceptions. If you're a particularly nasty criminal, you get your soul shoved into a construct and "stimulated" (read: tortured) to produce magical energy that powers many handy devices used in everyday life, like vehicular transport, IlluShine display spheres, and artificial constructs used for labor or security. Hedgers started popping up precisely because of this issue, making a name for themselves by breaking any form of magical bindings, including security measures in banks and archives across the continent... and the big score, cheating a soul-binding contract like no one else can. To this day, Hedgers are some of the most valuable members of the criminal underground, and they're always a top priority for the Temple Watch or more legally-minded knight-companies, like the renowned Ludoshield, to bring in for crimes against the state.
Now that people have had a few decades to mull it over, they're starting to see why this is a horrible state of affairs.
There are several counterculture movements who want to fight soul-binding legislation and practice on every front, including the Sovereign Anima movement, Altivarn Adventurers' Guild purists, and the extremely outspoken Kiranae Parliament. Not one of them will stop until they see their agenda push through and prevail, even if the cost is enough to bring them down.
What a time to be alive, huh?
Helix Missionary wrote:
I'll need to keep looking at things, but right now an investigative type of some sort is what I have in mind. Not sure if they're meant to be antagonists--even with the whole shades of gray morality--but an inquisitor or freelancer working for the See is striking me as a very intriguing option. Perhaps an Yggdrian orphan or some such, taken in for his natural proclivity for violence and tracking, and steadfast mind? Like I said, not sure yet.
I'm glad you picked up on the gray-and-gray morality of the setting so soon, because that's exactly how the Parcivaldian See fits into all this. The clergy of the god of magic (who is, unsurprisingly, a HUGE deal in this day and age of Ralczan's history) are one of the only groups making a serious go at regulating the use and abuse of magic. Luckily for them, they're massive and have mounds of experience tracking down rogue mages.
If you want to play a member of the See, or specifically the Temple Watch - the longest arm of the law thus far - I'd love to see that work in a mixed group.
Between the faint pops of the meager logs on the fire and the incessant chirps of nocturnal insects, each of you can pick out traces of hushed speech. This persists for the better part of a minute until, at long last, a few of the figures step forward. Most of the ones you can see, including those hanging back with bows drawn, appear to be little more than farmers, their dirt-stained clothing simple and unadorned.
The one you could reasonably call their leader carefully moves to the front and raises an arm to keep the rest at bay for the time being. "You were the soldiers who crossed to the south some days ago, then? I remember your passing." He stands at least a head taller than the rest of his group, his muscles thick and knotted from years of manual labor. "I am Cardiff," he continues, "and these survivors are in my care."
He takes a moment to incline his head toward Uarach, a sure sign of respect. "I know not how to speak the tongue of your people, but I recognize it. My hearth is yours, outlander."
Uarach:
You recognize this curiously-structured phrase as a traditional greeting among the hunters of the southern tribes. Cardiff may not be of the Galshan people, but he seems to have interacted with them before.
Another gesture, and the bowmen let their strings go slack, taking their sights off the party. "So, what do you call yourselves?"
You mentioned 3pp requests. How do you feel about the Spheres of Might system?
The opportunity to play a non-evil Antipaladin doesn't come up often, so I'm thinking I want to go with that. I have a loose idea for an "nature's avenger" concept, someone who's taken on the cause of trying to take vengeance against the industrialists who have been pillaging the natural world without care.
I'll probably go with a Nature Oracle once we reach the point of Gestalt progression.
Does that sound like a good character pitch, or is the concept a bad fit for your story?
For THE Doomed Hero? I can't imagine how I'd say no!
Kowtowing aside, the Spheres of Power/Spheres of Might systems have come up before, and I'm more amenable to them now that I've had time to study the rules a bit more. I'd say that's workable.
The non-evil antipaladin concept is, in my mind, analogous to the archetypal Dark Knight from the Final Fantasy series. Dark is Not Bad, Light is Not Good, etc.
Also, a "nature's avenger" would be fantastic concept for this setting. Let's just say the druidic types aren't too happy with what they see as a perversion of the natural order through rampant magical abuse...
1) What do Yggdrians look like? Can I think of like werewolfesq creatures or is it more like beastmen from Warhammer? Or are there many different variations, some look like lizardmen, some like catfolk, etc. ?
Yggdrians suffer from a genetic curse that manifests in several ways. The strongest genes result in creatures that look much like full-blooded lycanthropes, moderate cases look like a monster-movie wolfman, and weak cases barely manifest more than slightly pointed ears and sharp teeth.
Nemroider wrote:
2) What about the deities in your setting? Typical Golorian Setting Deities?
Dawn breaks over the vacuous streets of the city I once knew. Gone is the gentle caress of wind in the familiar trees, replaced by the unyielding clutches of the steel spires overhead. Gone are the lilting songs of a proud people united, replaced by the dispassionate murmur of cascading magic underfoot. Gone is the soul and hope of a sovereign nation, replaced by the scrutinizing gaze of false authorities beyond the judgment of mortals.
This is the very empire of gilded atrophy I sought to overthrow those many lifetimes ago. Now, I can see that my mission has not changed. We must be free once again…
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Alright, ya hooligans – the time has come to take the plunge into a world born from magic, raised by the arcane, and just entering its brooding teenage phase with copious amounts of edge to boot. Get ready for a fast-paced, genre savvy, self-aware romp through the arcane underbelly of a fantasy world gone horribly right.
Get ready for Dungeon Punk 1350!
What Is Dungeon Punk, Anyway?:
I’m glad you asked, friendo. When fiction started going punk, movements beyond the usual frontrunners like cyberpunk and steampunk started to emerge. Dungeon punk is the fantasy version – it’s about worlds that go wild with magic instead of technology, where magic is the technology, with elemental-powered trains and sky-pirates on airships and corporations that run on the soul trade and all other kinds of nutty magical nonsense wrapped up in the counterculture movements we all know and love.
This campaign is my first foray into the dungeon punk genre, so you’d better buckle up, buttercup. We’ve got one heck of a ride ahead of us.
The World After The Wars:
If you wage war long enough without a good reason for it, people start to get sick and tired of all the fighting. That’s exactly what happened when the Altivarn Adventurers’ Guild, aided by the clergy of the Parcivaldian See, rounded up the leaders of the Six Nations and got them to sign the Altruan Accords, putting an end to their squabbling over resources and territory. With peace came a magically-fueled industrial boom, and almost overnight, the world began to change.
Stone castles gave way to shining steel towers, covered wagons became cloud-skimming aircraft, and spellcasting, which had once been regarded as the most dangerous and difficult of professions, was given to the masses through the development of commercially-produced magical items. Even the Divines themselves set up shop here in the plane of Existence, leaving their lofty heavens behind to keep a closer eye on things with the common folk. Mortality rates plummeted and the value of spells skyrocketed; of course, it took the economy a few crashes to finally stabilize, but civilization has been moving right along with no stopping point in sight.
You know what it’s really like on the streets, though. On the surface, everyone sees the chrome-covered promise of a better tomorrow, and their hearts beat in sync with the arcane web pulsing through the city’s foundation, but life is never that simple. You’ve got your stuck-up knight-companies pushing their “security” on the common man, your all-seeing Temple Watch whisking spellcasters away in the night, your corporate snake charmers trapping people in soul-binding contracts. Every cat you see slinking down an alley is somebody’s familiar, and you can’t even be sure you’ll make it home in one piece, let alone the same pieces you started out with. All this in the name of a brighter future… but you know if you don’t look out for yourself, you won’t get to enjoy that future, assuming it ever shows up.
So, what kind of person are you? Are you working yourself to death just to save your pitiful excuse of a soul that you were so quick to sign away? Are you a Hedger, a magical problem-solver making your living right under the noses and two steps ahead of the authorities? Are you a visionary following some Divine-mandated directive in the hopes that you’ll ascend to a higher plane of being? Are you an up-and-coming mage looking to carve yourself a slice of the city with your mastery of magic? Are you one of the Mundanes who can’t cast a spell to save your life and can’t stand getting beaten down by wizards growing fat on ill-gotten gains?
Whoever you are, you’re in deep now, and this world has its claws in you until you find a way to break free.
Character Creation Rules:
25-point buy with 2 traits.
Any Paizo Publishing material. You can request 3PP content on a case-by-case basis, but most would conflict with the setting.
Any listed race from the “Races of Ralczan” document, which you can find here.
Characters start at level 2 and follow Fast EXP track.
No obviously cheesy feats like Leadership.
Feat Tax rules are in effect, which you can read here.
GM makes final determination on what is acceptable.
House Rules:
Anima Block: Ralczan is steeped in magic, and even non-spellcasters feel the adverse effects of being deprived of magical energy. If you enter or start your turn in an area that dampens, nullifies, or suppresses magical effects or spellcasting, such as an antimagic field, make a Fortitude saving throw. On a failed save, you are fatigued; if you fail twice, you are exhausted. If you succeed, you do not suffer any ill effects. The DC for the Fortitude save increases by 1 for each round you spend in the area of effect, up to a maximum increase of +10. TL;DR: standing in magic-free zones fatigues and eventually exhausts you unless you pass an increasingly-difficult Fortitude save every turn. If you fail, the effects last 10 minutes after you leave.
Knocked Out of Alignment: on the streets of the new Ralczan, black-and-white morality is a luxury no one can afford anymore. If a class lists an alignment restriction among its class features, it is possible to play a character whose alignment is outside the restrictions while retaining all class features. You can find a complete list of acceptable alignments for previously-restricted classes on this document. Restrictions based on deity or where a companion must be within a certain step of your character’s alignment remain the same. TL;DR: you can choose most alignments on alignment-restricted classes now, except for classes where your alignment has to stay close to someone else’s or their alignment has to stay close to yours.
Magic Wands for Everyone: the advent of magical utilities led to a massive market for magic items that could be used by even those with no spellcasting ability. When purchasing or crafting a consumable magic item such as a scroll or wand, you may choose to purchase or craft a “commercial” scroll or wand. Commercial wands can be crafted or purchased for 20% of the original wand’s cost, but only carry 20% of the original wand’s charges. Commercial scrolls function the same as their original versions, save that the user can only activate one scroll or one spell from a scroll containing multiple spells each day, preventing them from using multiple scrolls in rapid succession. However, for both commercial scrolls and commercial wands, the user does not need to make a Use Magic Device check or have the scroll or wand’s spell on their class’s spell list to use the scroll or wand; it can simply be activated as a standard action, regardless of whether the user is trained in the Use Magic Device skill or has the ability to cast spells. TL;DR: commercial scrolls and wands can be crafted or bought and used by any class without a Use Magic Device check. C-wands are 80% cheaper with 80% fewer charges, while C-scrolls can only be used once per day.
Maligned Mundane Munitions: while firearms can be quite effective against even heavily-warded spellcasters and other warriors, the associated skills and materials to manufacture mundane firearms and ammunition are in low demand compared to more publicly-available magical alternatives. The cost of materials to craft firearms and ammunition for firearms is reduced by 30% of the original cost. TL;DR: firearms and ammunition are 30% cheaper to craft.
Only a Flesh Wound: life on the streets of Ralczan is all new kinds of dangerous compared to how it used to be, so if you plan on making a living where risk and reward are your kinds of business, you have to be prepared to lose life and limb wherever you go and in whatever you do. This campaign will utilize the Wound Threshold optional rules from Pathfinder Unchained, with the following modification: rather than the Wound Threshold penalties scaling as -1, -2, and -3 at Grazed, Wounded, and Critical, the penalties will scale as -1, -2, and -4. These penalties do not stack. TL;DR: the Wound Threshold rules are in play, and the penalties are changed to -1 while Grazed, -2 while Wounded, and -4 while Critical.
The Nth Degree: magic may run everything these days, but there’s no accounting for mortal errors and chance happenings screwing you over. When you roll against a target number, such as a Saving Throw against a set DC or an Attack against a target’s AC, the results of your rolls will be divided into several Degrees of Success rather than a simple “pass/fail” check. Rolls just under or just over the target number may succeed in unexpected ways or introduce new complications based on the situation, rolls far above the target number may be treated as major successes, and rolls far below the target number may be treated as disastrous failures. These Degrees of Success will only be used if there are serious consequences for your actions (or lack thereof) that could impact the game and story. TL;DR: rolling really well, really poorly, or even slightly off the mark will create new problems or opportunities based on the consequences of your actions and circumstances.
Plus Ultra:
In a world that runs on magic, why would you ever settle for being normal? A major part of the appeal of RPGs is the chance to enjoy experiences you could never have in our world, so with that in mind, I’ve set up several tiers of rewards for characters who dig deep into the world I’ve created, accomplish incredible tasks, or become pillars of the community within the setting.
Some of the things you have to look forward to include the following rules.
Gestalt Character Progression: once your characters qualify for and accept this advancement, you will undergo a brief “catch-up” period where your character comes to terms with their new abilities, but after a while, your gestalt class level will equal your original class level. This allows you to enjoy the power of a gestalt character with more organic character development since they won’t be starting off gestalt.
Mythic Power, Mythic Spells, and bonus Mythic Feats: if you make it far enough in the game to acquire mythical levels of power, the aptly-named Mythic rules will come into play. These will be awarded purely as a bonus for accomplishing incredible feats in the story, and will be selected by the GM to complement your character’s abilities.
There’s a lot to unpack here, so if you need anything else from me, send me a Private Message or pop into the Poetics’ Play-by-Posts Discord server and ask away. For those interested in playing, hit me with your character ideas down below and we’ll see if we can make them work. Don’t delay – this offer is for a limited time only!
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This message is approved and monitored by the Temple Watch. Go forth in truth, citizen, and be free of your fears.
The 20-foot area surrounding Zenebe - or, more accurately, Zenebe's rapier - is now normal light, and dim light extends 20 feet further.
The flash of light rips through the darkness surrounding the encampment, putting the dying embers of your meager campfire to shame. As the shadows of the night are cast away, you can clearly see the forms of nearly a dozen humanoids watching you from the treeline, and when you begin shouting, those armed with bows quickly draw and sight in on you.
From behind one of the trees, you hear a deep voice call out, "That depends on your intentions, half-elf! Why have you come to our lands? Are you servants of the Rift? Speak true, or face the wrath of our skilled hunters!"
You can roll Sense Motive if you'd like. For those still asleep or not on watch, feel free to add in your actions now that a threat is present.
Moving on since no one else is continuing the interaction.
"That would be quite beyond my capabilities as a mortal," the elven woman says, quite nonplussed and clearly missing the joke. She trails after Wydell, staying close by while you search the buildings.
Wydell:
Nothing has moved or revealed itself lately. The ruins are bereft of anything useful - at least, they are now that Dante pulled a weapon out of the last doorway.
Your search concluded, the kiranae looks at you, fully calm now that she's had time to recover from her breakdown earlier. "I can't help but feel we won't be getting anywhere if you keep looking in the same place." Is that... a hint of sarcasm?
These thoughts broke through the crust of a mind positioned several feet above a mangled corpse on the factory floor. The mind belonged to a man who looked like he rarely ever laughed and slept even less.
“Any word from the Circles?” He directed the question to a stoic-looking woman standing apart from the small crowd gathered nearby. Everyone was wearing the same uniform – jackets and pants in the cold blue of a frozen ocean, their immaculate gloves and boots polished with a blackness that could rival a Riftspawn’s soul. The leader, who was busy fishing something out of his pocket, was set apart by his lack of a hat and the golden cravat tucked down the front of his shirt, which contrasted with the dull silver everyone else was wearing.
The woman shook her head and replied, “None of the known Circles have claimed responsibility. They settled for the usual response to our inquiries, which was to blame us for bringing this on ourselves.”
Of course they did, the leader mused sourly. As he pulled an unadorned crystal lens from his jacket, he glanced at the other three bodies scattered further away. Only two of them had been visibly mauled; the one at his feet likely died of a stricken heart, petrified by fear, while the fourth had been flung a considerable distance, their bones shattered against the steel braces keeping the little factory standing. Aloud, he said, “Continue surveillance on their meeting grounds and holy sites, and keep a close watch on the industrial sector. I won’t have us losing any more workers on my watch.”
“Yes, Commander Elish.” The woman took half of the uniformed guards with her as she headed for the exit, leaving her commander with the remaining four. Calder, better known as Commander Elish of the Temple Watch, uttered a short phrase and then thrust the crystal lens into the air, where it began to hang as if suspended by unseen threads… which, more or less, was exactly true.
He followed the lens as it slowly moved around the room, carefully stepping over the lifeless victims when its path took it over their bodies. The other guards watched with a distinct lack of interest when the lens and the commander both stopped moving, eliciting a heavy sigh from Calder. With another brief mutter, the lens fell into his outstretched hand, and he pocketed it once more.
“No magical presence whatsoever,” he stated flatly. “Either they convinced a few beasts to break in, which got spooked after their little murdering spree, or we’re dealing with shapeshifters again. Scribe Norben!”
The skinniest guard flinched at Calder’s outburst and stepped forward. “Yes, Commander Elish?”
“Why do we hate shapeshifters?”
“Because shapeshifters leave no magical signs to trace or effects to observe, sir.”
“You got that right. Temple Watch, prepare the Final Rites for our victims.” Calder could feel the weight of the investigation pressing down on him, but it wasn’t the time to give up. Like it or not, a few bodies were just part of a normal day at work.
Still, it was a bit unsettling to see so much of a body after a murder. Spellcasters could be trusted to burn, dissolve, or otherwise dispose of the corpse, leaving nothing but a greasy film of organic residue and the lingering signature of magic to show their handiwork. Shapeshifters, on the other hand... five attacks in two weeks? They were extraordinarily bold, and he had to deal with them armed with this pitiful excuse for a Contingent. The See was ready to oust him after the recent murders, and they wouldn’t take kindly to failure.
If it could get any worse, Calder wasn’t sure how.
—————
Prelude in Scarlet:
“I’m telling the truth!”
This frantic declaration was met with indistinct murmurs and sideways glances from the rest of The Golden Arms’ patrons. No one wanted to tell the old man that he was a raving lunatic, but it was definitely on everyone’s minds.
“You gotta believe me,” he pleaded in a softer tone. “Why would I lie to my good ol’ friends? Georgie, you know I wouldn’t lie, don’tcha?”
Georgie shuffled awkwardly in his seat and, falling victim to the overwhelming noise of his conscience, nodded once. “You wouldn’t lie, Mattick.”
“See? So why don’tcha think it’s true?” Mattick pushed himself up off the rough wooden seat and pointed a gnarled, quivering finger at the assembled farmers in front of him. “I’ve known every one o’ y’uns since y’uns was born, taughtcha how to live as friends to the land, and you show me this kinda disr’spect?” Shaking his head, his next sentence blocked by incredulous rage, he stormed off, aiming to put the tavern and the embarrassment of confiding in a bunch of naysayers behind him.
Right as he reached the door, though, a slender hand grabbed his arm gently and stopped him. He looked for its source and saw a wiry-looking woman dressed in a practical tunic, leggings, and boots, looking as if she’d just crawled out of some lost ruins with a sack of gold in tow. She even had a whip, for crying out loud! “Whatcha want? You gonna laugh at an old man, too?”
She shook her head. With a voice as tranquil as sharpened steel, she answered, “No. I believe you.”
Mattick paused, caught off-guard by her commanding tone and deadly seriousness. He felt like he ought to have been afraid of her, like he should have been running away, but he couldn’t quite pull away. “You do?”
“Yes,” she said, releasing his arm and gesturing toward the open seat next to her. Once he had settled into the chair, she peered at him with an intense expression, making him fidget for several moments until she finally broke the silence.
“You saw a castle in the mountains.”
Mattick nodded. “Yep. It weren’t just any ol’ castle, though – it was covered in metal, and it was… hummin’.”
“Humming? Like, music?”
“Nope, just… hummin’ along, like it was thinkin’ real hard.” He trailed off and looked at the group of farmers he had just left, who had turned back to their drinks and were pointedly ignoring his gaze.
“Don’t worry about them,” the woman said softly. “Just refresh my memory. Was there anything else that stood out to you about this metal castle?”
Mattick remained silent for a little while longer. Then, he said, “It looked like it coulda fell over any second, but it didn’t. There weren’t no flags or nothin’ on the outside – just dark metal.”
Her brows furrowed. “Dark?”
“Yeah, like it’d got burned. It looked like it got rolled through the soot outta my chimney.”
The woman didn’t respond right away, but if Mattick had to guess, she got excited by his answer. He couldn’t imagine why anyone would be happy about something so strange. Then again, she was one of those weird adventuring types.
Then came the next question: “What chased you?”
He shuddered, the words catching in his throat at first. “Somethin’… awful. Big, ugly, covered in spikes. It didn’t make a sound – just came chargin’ outta the trees and took a swing at me. I ran, but when I looked back, it had vanished.”
Suddenly, the woman was standing and heading out into the evening air. “Thank you,” she called over her shoulder. Then, she was gone.
Mattick sat there in stunned silence for several moments. Eventually, he called over to the barkeep, “Say, who was that woman, anyway?”
The barkeep glanced around with a puzzled look. “What woman?”
I’ll be working on a series of story blurbs that should serve to fill in some details about the setting, themes, and possible conflicts. I’d like the story to be in medias res, with the PCs already being familiar with each other on some level.
Backstories and the like can wait until the recruitment thread is up, so for the time being, I’d encourage interested players to have a general idea of what sort of character they’d like to play so I can help you fit it in the setting with minimum fuss and MAXIMUM EFFORT.
Interesting. I'll make sure to make my Mohawk green.
Does this game already have players from among the guys in the original game, and how many slots will you be recruiting for if so?
I'm not in the business of reserving slots, even for current players (if any of you are reading this: sorry, and I still love you, I promise); if a given character seems like a fantastic fit for the campaign, then that's my primary reason for acceptance. Of course, I also have to take what I can get if the recruitment thread is a bust... which, hopefully, it won't be.
Helix Missionary wrote:
Just popping back in to say that everything is still sounding super interesting to me. I also love delving deep into ideas, but flying by the seat of the arcane enchanted pants can be a great way to make a memorable game. And this sounds ripe for great times.
Sounds like the kind of thing I enjoy. What kind of tech is around? You mentioned airships, so do we have trains or steam-powered carts? And how dystopian is it?
Steam is a lower-class tech since it doesn’t require very expensive components, but it’s not widespread. Most technology is magic is technology (you get the idea), and sooner or later, everything runs on the arcane, from frictionless trains to transcontinental teleportation circles. The quality of the magic involved just depends on cost-benefit analysis.
As for the dystopian elements, they’re definitely there, but not in a “Pink Mohawks Versus The Man” kind of way. There are several corporations and governments that want to make the world better, but the entrenched old kingdoms aren’t as amicable with the new world order. It’s more of a false utopia than anything - it looks shiny and perfect on the outside, but its inner workings run on some really messed-up stuff.
GM_Panic wrote:
Thing is our world with magic would be VERY close to how it is today, when tech is replaced by magic.
Ah, there’s the rub. As I said in an earlier post, this is a unique campaign setting with centuries of player-influenced history. By no means is it an alt-Earth retelling; it’s an extended thought experiment on how the standard Pathfinder fantasy setting would look when it’s cranked up to eleven. You’ve listed some well-known explorations of those ideas, but I’m hoping to subvert several that just haven’t been touched on as much.
It all started with a pair of simple ideas. A few years ago, I did a thought experiment on what might happen if a pivotal character from the setting jumped into a time portal and wound up in the setting's future, which laid the groundwork for a dungeon punk revision of the entire world.
Then, a few weeks ago, I fell down the same rabbit hole after asking a simple question: "If necromancy was regulated by contracts and included willing subjects, would it still be evil?"
Cogitation ensues.
I started bouncing some ideas off the players in my current campaign, about half of whom occupy the Discord I linked in the initial post, and everyone seemed to like the idea of taking a fantasy setting and ramping it hundreds of years into the futuuuuuuuuuure to avoid the trope-tastrophe that is Medieval stasis.
Loosely put, this is a fantasy setting that's going through a magic-fueled Renaissance, where all the birds and cats on the street could be someone's familiar and with a skyline comprised of wizards' towers, the citadels of private knight-companies, and the floating IlluShines (patent pending) that broadcast advertisements for Goodberry Energy Shots, rendered lovingly through the power of sorcerous illusion... and the souls of criminals, of course.
I typically go for "slow burn" campaigns that go as deep as they are long, but in this case, you're looking at what is definitely my fastest-paced take on throwing caution into a magitek reactor, bottling whatever it turns into, and selling it for a slice of an arcane megacorp.
TL;DR there's a ton of material I can't fit in these posts, but I'm having fun just thinking about it, and I believe you will too.
When they laid the first arcane web under the city, everyone’s eyes were so full of hope that you could see the magic reflected off them. When we traded in our endless wars for a chance at cooperation, we were happy to be silhouettes in the promise of a brighter tomorrow.
Now, the reflection is absorbed in the emptiness of our eyes. Now, we crave the comfortable solidarity of once being silhouettes. The light of promise struck the world blind…
…and all we can see are the shadows of our success staring back at us.
Hello again, denizens of the interwebs! I’m here to fire a shot of inspiration across the bows of your imagination and bring you an experience that’s approximately three weeks in the making, give or take a few nanoseconds.
How would you like it if fantasy went nano, if magic were the driving force behind technology, and if you found yourself in a Dungeon Punk realm with ethical dilemmas and morally-questionable choices at every turn? Luckily, you won’t actually end up there yourself… but your characters will.
Dungeon Punk 1350 is a near-future AU thought experiment based on a campaign setting I’ve built over several years. It’s like Pathfinder, but with more trenchcoats and magitek airships, and that’s just the beginning.
The Premise:
The premise is simple: what began as an attempt by the Divines to shield the last mortal life in Existence led to centuries of external and internal conflict – wars for territory, survival in the face of demon onslaughts, and dozens of apocalyptic-scale disasters, most of which were the fault of some mortal or another. After all that, it wasn’t the Divines who set everyone straight, but a skilled band of adventurers who got sick and tired of the world coming to an end every few years and established the Altruan Accords to get the world back on track.
The thing is, almost everyone in this world is sensitive to magic in some form or another. Magic was always part of everything, but it’s become everything, pushing civilization to new heights (and depths) thanks to the possibilities of the arcane. This led to a world that doesn’t quite feel like ours: body modification and industrialized farming is a snap thanks to transmutation spells, firearms never became more than a hobby since you can just carry pocket-sized wands of lightning bolts and tailor-made curses to shoot at anyone who screws with you, and if the morning commute is too much, you can just open a portal directly to work.
Of course, what you know on the street is that everything has a price, and magic itself always demands a pound of flesh for its services. This isn’t an economy that runs on the gold-silver-copper standard anymore. This is a dangerous place where you can just as easily find yourself on the chopping block of the cutting edge, your soul ripped from your body for violating a contract… or breaking the law… or pretty much any other reason imaginable. If you’re lucky, you’ll get stuck powering a servitor construct for a few years before you get your body back. If you’re not… well, there are special kinds of hell for people like you, and they’re probably some fat-cat wizard’s Pocket Prison Dimension for Annoying People.
Tread lightly. Don’t look directly into the shiny steel towers or self-lighting lamps of the fantasy future. Keep your wits, your soul, and all your other resources close at hand, ‘cause you’ll need every one of them to make it out here.
If this post generates enough buzz for my liking, I’ll put together a recruitment thread soon. If you have more questions about the setting or just want to pick my brain to see how the interior insanity stays so pristine, I’m happy to welcome your comments down below, via Private Message, or on the Discord server I’ve set up for PbP stuff.
Thanks for taking the time to read this, and I hope to see you… in the future!
Sorry about that, Deepshadow. Guess you get to look forward to communing with the shadows when you pull an all-nighter next time.
Kidding. Sort of.
It isn't long after Zenebe sets the first watch that everyone else in the party is able to settle in for the night. Whether ill-at-ease with the events of the day or willing to accept whatever hand the fates have dealt you, it's becoming abundantly clear to all of you the world that you once knew is gone, reclaimed in some way by the forces of the earth itself.
While the majority of you make attempts at fitful sleep, Zenebe peers into the darkness...
GM Roll:1d20 + 5 ⇒ (18) + 5 = 23
If it had been anyone else on first watch, they likely wouldn't have noticed the strangely deeper darkness clinging to the bases of the towering trees around your campsite. Between the chirps of insects in the branches overhead and the disgruntled croaks of the toads in the underbrush, you catch little movements here and there that seem... off.
You're not alone in these woods, and it's definitely not another grotmag paying you a visit.
With the watches sorted and everyone's roles clearly established, you settle in for the night. Hopefully, tomorrow will be much less eventful than today...
Those of you taking watch, make Perception checks! I'll check back with the results in a few hours for a full post.
The weapon is sturdy and well-made, but no trace of magic appears when you attempt to detect any aura it may carry. It's simply a masterwork earth breaker, and if you had to guess, you'd say it was crafted in the iconic style of the rufalg.
"I came from the bay east of here - I believe it is called the Dragon's Maw," the kiranae adds, trying to be as helpful as she can be. "We were fishers and sailors before we crossed over the sea. I was very young when we came to Ralczan... I'm sorry. I don't know why that's relevant." She shuts herself up prematurely, and the problem is written all over her soot-covered face: she's having trouble balancing her desperation and sorrow with the sheer joy of having living, breathing people to talk to again.
She halfheartedly adds, "I don't suppose we'll be needing a boat anytime soon, however."
The grotmag huffs at you as you circumvent its feeding grounds, but it lets you pass without aggression. Should any of you turn back after you pass, you find that it's already disappeared back into the gloom of the forest - unusual for a beast of its kind, which usually favor open plains and rolling hills, but then again, there's nothing "usual" about how your day has gone so far.
Travel Time, 1d4 Hours:1d4 ⇒ 4
The hike along the trail is simple enough thanks to the clear markings, so you can avoid getting lost fairly easily, but actually accomplishing the hike is another matter entirely. Whatever trail used to adorn the path is nonexistent now, overgrown with tangled plants that choke out any sight of the old footpath below. The sun sinks low in the sky as you move along, and eventually, it becomes clear that you should settle in for the night.
Then you realize that the trail markers have suddenly disappeared, leaving you with no direction for the future or any sign of how you got here.
The elf accepts the meager meal with a grateful nod and busies herself with eating, finally showing signs of genuinely calming down instead of just holding herself together through unadulterated desperation. "Many thanks. I pray your kindness is a more common commodity than I fear it is in whatever..." She looks past the smoldering ruins and takes in the landscape, as if seeing the horizon for the first time in her life. "...whatever our world has become," she finishes weakly.
She finishes the rest of the food methodically, not in any hurry to deprive herself of the comfortable simplicity of traveling rations. Eventually, she turns to you again and continues. "The village is... beyond saving. Where do you intend to go from here?"
Both of you recognize the silhouette as belonging to a grotmag, one of a family of formidable goat-like beasts that evolved thick plates on their shaggy hides and massive horns over generations of exposure to magic. It's a surprisingly familiar sight amidst all the changes to the environment you've seen so far.
The creature stomps on the ground, revealing the source of the snapping sound from a moment ago, but seems more concerned with keeping you at bay than charging you... for the moment.
You're able to pick out an abundance of eldwort leaves poking up from the soil. From what you can remember, eldwort is extremely useful to healers, especially those just starting to develop their skills.
You all admire the scenery, most of you remaining blissfully unaware of the properties of the flora and fauna you pass as you make your way along the trail.
The snap of a branch rings out through the undergrowth somewhere to the left of the trail. With your vision somewhat impeded by closely-linked tree trunks and other foliage nearby, you find it difficult to make out exactly what caused the noise, but even the least observant among you can see a large silhouette, easily the size of a prize cattle, with horns situated on top of its head that twist forward like wicked skewers. The shape doesn't seem to be hostile toward you, but with the day you've had, anything could be possible.
The aforementioned lack of knowledges is noted, but for those with Arcana, this one's for you.
In this instance, I'd have to say no - since the fire was so recent, the smell of smoke and burnt flesh is way too strong to pick out anything else. I feel pretty bad for the little guy having to deal with the stench.
Dante:
You spy some oddly displaced ash just inside the doorway of a burned-down house. With a little digging, you manage to unearth a hefty-looking hammer of some kind, one way too big to carry with just one hand.
The rest of the search is nowhere near as fruitful, making it even more apparent just how much of a miracle it was that a person could survive. Said person watches the group carefully, always keeping the azata in her peripheral vision as he occasionally shifts her weight to keep herself upright. "I hate to trouble you so soon, but would any of you have food to spare? I can scarcely remember the last time I had a meal of any sort," the kiranae hazards, and she would probably look pretty rough even without the debilitating burns.
I'm alive - not sure how long that state of affairs will continue, but here I am.
I'd like to apologize for the unexplained and entirely-too-long absence from the game. The past couple of weeks have seen me running around dealing with rather unpleasant health stuff, but the long and short of it is that I've been causing myself a great deal of stress at work and can afford to cut back for the first time since my recent promotion.
Painlord's first (and biggest) rule of PbP is to finish what you start, and I intend to do just that. Thank you all for your continued patience as I get my RL affairs in order and refocus so I can deliver a better gameplay experience than I've done so far.
I look forward to seeing more of your excellent posts moving forward.
I'm alive - not sure how long that state of affairs will continue, but here I am.
I'd like to apologize for the unexplained and entirely-too-long absence from the game. The past couple of weeks have seen me running around dealing with rather unpleasant health stuff, but the long and short of it is that I've been causing myself a great deal of stress at work and can afford to cut back for the first time since my recent promotion.
Painlord's first (and biggest) rule of PbP is to finish what you start, and I intend to do just that. Thank you all for your continued patience as I get my RL affairs in order and refocus so I can deliver a better gameplay experience than I've done so far.
I look forward to seeing more of your excellent posts moving forward.
You leave the shattered village, the pristine steeple of its church watching over your solemn departure. The forest is dense and healthy, with many signs of life to behold - small animals flit this way and that as you pass by, the deathly silence of the settlement eclipsed once more by the sounds of nature.
Aided by Tel and his familiar, Uarach follows the trail with little difficulty, the markers cropping up in consistent patterns and often enough that the party only has to exert the bare minimum effort to avoid becoming lost. The scenery is truly enchanting, the proud trees adorned with pale flowers that quiver in the faint breeze that manages to push past the canopy.
The surrounding plants and wildlife can be identified via Knowledge (Nature) if you so choose; otherwise, we’ll press on.
The elf shudders slightly as the healing magic courses through her injured arms. It might not have done much, but she seems a bit more stable afterward. “Thank you,” she murmurs to Wydell as she picks herself back up. “This is all happening so quickly... I can scarcely believe my own senses.” She adjusts her tattered clothes and tries to look presentable, but it’s clear that her mind is somewhere else, occupied with whatever fate could have befallen similar settlements.
“I would see the extent of such destruction myself, even if the world beyond this village is whole. I hope I will not be too much of a burden.” She looks to each of you with a glimmer of hope in her wide eyes.
Wydell:
There are some bodies, but each one is scorched beyond recognition, likely immolated by whatever foul flames the Riftspawn carried with them.
Those of you searching the village, make some Perception rolls.
Giving everyone a bit more time before adding a response. Keep up the great RP and interactions! I've thoroughly enjoyed what you guys have offered so far.
The elf seems... well, pretty far from convinced, if her widened eyes and tense muscles are any indication. "It is... a strange and terrible sight. I have never heard tell of any such creature being associated with the Divines." Still dealing with the shock of the azata's appearance, she doesn't protest at having her arms examined by Wydell.
Wydell:
Her arms are in terrible shape, and it's a miracle she can even hold up a sword - she should be curled up in the fetal position, if not unconscious from the pain. Something doesn't quite add up, but she doesn't seem to be faking the injuries.
"What do you propose to do? The Riftspawn are already gone, and this village..." She stops, her words catching in her throat for a moment. "They were kind to me, even though this was not my home, yet I could not help them in return."
In response to Wydell’s question, the elf looks down at her blackened forearms, almost as if she’s noticing her burns for the first time. “I... the flames... I don’t remember getting hurt, but I know that must have happened...” She shakes her head, but then her gaze falls on the eidolon and her mouth falls agape in silent horror.
The kiranae woman falls to her knees and jerks her blade back up defensively, thrusting it in the general direction of the azata. “What manner of devilry is that?!”
On the far edge of the village, a small inconsistency stands out from the pristine treeline and other foliage that escaped the destruction. Even though it’s dampened by the recent rainfall and somewhat difficult to make out, you can see some kind of trail marker carved into the trunk of a tree - the mark is recent, too, judging from the angle of the cuts and the lack of wear.
The rest of the search passes without incident, though you can see repeated instances of what might have been usable materials, such as potions and household supplies, smashed to pieces, their contents and usefulness long departed.
Nothing on the elf's person gives off any auras of magical energy. That's not terribly surprising, considering how inadequate her belongings must have been even before going through a devastating fire and a gauntlet of bloodthirsty Riftspawn.
"That blast... it... swept them away, all of them. It happened so quickly, and I don't remember... I woke up, and then the roof almost crushed me." The kiranae woman slowly lets her guard down, the quivering tip of her blade no longer pointing at your party. She seems even more exhausted than she is frightened, and that's saying something. "They were gone long before you arrived. The light took them away, but... I fear they might come back."
What starts as a hopeful search for supplies and usable materials quickly becomes an exercise in futility - whatever destructive force leveled this village did so extremely thoroughly, leaving no glass unbroken and no wood unsplintered.
Thurmoud:
You get so caught up examining the masonry at work in the foundations of the destroyed houses that you fail to notice anything else. Go, you!
Any Perception checks from the other half of the party?
As if in answer to Tellian's suggestion, you would almost swear you can hear a faint melody tinkling between the pounding of the rain and the crashes of thunder. It only lasts for a split second, but when it subsides, you can tell that the storm is starting to abate, losing much of its prior ferocity over the course of just a few minutes.
Not long afterward, the weather has turned to nothing more than a light drizzle, and even most of that comes from residual drops falling from the canopy up above. Something - or someone - has cleared the path for you.
