If you haven't been following on Twitter, it's official as of January 9th: work begins apace on a new iteration of the role-playing game Dungeons & Dragons. Wizards of the Coast refuses as of yet to call it "5th Edition", but instead use the hashtag #dndnext.
The current 4th Edition has been controversial, to say the least. I didn't join the bandwagon for the primary reason that I was impressed with the major remodeling in version 3.0/3.5 (still not perfect of course, but what is?) and their Open Gaming License that unleashed the creativity of third-party publishers. Truth be told, it was hard enough to get my friends to try that game instead of the old Advanced Dungeons & Dragons 1st Edition which my generation of gamers has practically memorized.
When I thumbed through the 4E Players Handbook, I honestly did not like what I saw. I already had a cohesive gameworld written up from years of play, and I wasn't ready to add Half-Dragons as a standard race for players. Also, characters had "healing surges" (the equivalent of jumping up and saying "just a flesh wound!") which made Clerics far less important. The consensus among detractors is that it tries too hard to emulate online games like World of Warcraft, and tries too hard to balance out the powers of all player types. Others say 4e de-emphasizes the non-combat aspects of roleplaying to the point where it appeals more to wargamers. There has been a gradual inflation of powers over the editions, to the point that some complain it's harder than ever to actually challenge the players. To the point, there's a subgenre called #fourthcore (organized by @saveversusdeath) that specializes in ultra-deadly dungeons in the style of Tomb of Horrors.
WotC must have known they had a problem on their hands when Pazio's game Pathfinder, which is based off the 3.5 engine, won more awards than 4e. Add to that the growing popularity of the Old School Renaissance, a collection of gamers who seek to keep the older versions of D&D alive with retro-clones such as Basic Fantasy, Lords & Labyrinths, OSRIC and Lamentations of the Silver Princess. Dungeon Crawler Classics takes a wide left turn from the retro-clones, as I mentioned earlier.
A phenomenon that intrigues me as of late are the FLAILSNAILS Conventions. A sort of Brotherhood of Old-School Gamers With Cams. I watched an online game recently. With hyperlinked editable maps, character sheets, even dice-rolling programs, everyone was having fun. All we were missing was the pizza, junk food and soda!
I've volunteered to become a FLAILSNAILS Dungeon Master. I'm available most nights at 10pm EST (that's 7pm SLT for my virtual world friends) and would love to run a group of players through some of my old adventures!
Special thanks to @DreadGazeebo for hosting an online discussion on recent gaming events and the forces behind them. And yes, I will try 4e if you DM. I think an Artificer will do the trick...
As always, civil discourse is welcome below.
Tuesday, January 10
Saturday, December 31
The Yearly Report
Early in the year, the Bloodwing were ambushed were just outside the city of Cala Mondrago by the Daughters of Baba Yaga, a coven of witches that integrated captured alien technology into their eldritch magic. Bloodwing was kidnapped, but the Yaga ship was intercepted by Nova and Six just as the demon dealt vengeance to his captors. Ash was catapulted to a digital dimension by strange energies, and joined a rebellion in that world to prevent a genocide. Bloodwing realized he had been infected by a witch's curse soon after he boarded the Sixes and Sevens as his body quite literally fell to pieces.
When Bloodwing was returned to the site of the altercation, Qlippothic (who gave up a chance a becoming fully human to rescue her brother) and Koen used Bloodwing's remains to form a conduit through which Ash (and his fellow survivors of the failed resistance, dubbed the Digital Knights) returned to our world. Bloodwing cast a Homunculi ritual to turn his detached pieces into miniature versions of himself to wreak havoc on the witches alongside the Digital Knights.
As I was observing from afar, I failed to notice a "noob" avatar by the name of "Bishop3" sit next to me in the sandspeeder, and in typical outlander fashion refused to leave even when the Yaga ships returned for a pitched battle. Little did I know that Mr. Bishop3 was actually my clone-brother Marcus Gabriel Mason!
I had to sabotage my own vehicle to disarm Marcus and keep the sandspeeder from plowing through the city itself. Things went from bad to worse as Marcus's psychic essence transferred to Ash, who aimed his weapon at me. Qli fired from a distance, destroying Ash's frame. However, Ash had self-ejected his hard drive into the sand nanoseconds before the moment of impact, and Marcus had likewise fled the doomed construct's body.
It was a Phyrric victory. Half of the Digital Knights had fallen, and just as we were surveying the carnage, the city of Cala Mondrago exploded before our eyes. The chained genii that powered the newest of the Steamlands revolted and turned the artificial oasis back into the dust from whence it came.
The flock of Bloodwing homunculi migrated to Steelhead, where Duchess Fauve Aeon used her stitchpunk magicks to resew the demon into a new bishoen form.
Just as we were catching our breath, we received word from my father that the Demon Wasps had hatched a new queen, and had opened a portal to conquer a nearby dimension. We boarded my ancestor's airship the Bloodwing's Revenge and tesseracted to that world, where we allied with Captain Helen de Fer of the pirate airship Dame de Fer and slew the gargantuan Queen of the Demon Wasps.
A few months later I was summoned to deal with a zombie-plague spreading through Steelhead. This was a curiously morphic affliction that managed to overcome even my own defenses, and I succumbed to the madness of Undeath. It took a time-travelling member of the Steelhead Air Force to shoot me with an antidote from my own inoculation gun!
After using the new serum to cure the rest of Steelhead, I returned to New Babbage to investigate a time-travelling artifact warning about something called the Dark Aether. Since the entire city seems to be coordinating on solving this issue, I took a hiatus to regain my strength.
Now, it saddens me to relate...
Last week, Ash had located the factory where the Daughters of Baba Yaga were building their attack craft in the Siberian wastes. Qlippothic, Ash, Koen, Bloodwing and Xavael, along with the remaining contingent of Digital Knights assaulted the factory and destroyed it. However, there were losses on our side.
The Clockwinder informed me that a faraway explosion had unbalanced some of his pendulums. He pointed Northeast. My instruments confirmed a seismic disruption from the site of the factory. After Bloodwing destroyed Baba Yaga, the factory self-destructed in a ball of atomic fire. The Bloodwing's Revenge barely escaped the blast zone, but the far-reaching electromagnetic pulse obliterated the surviving Digital Knights. Qlippothic and Koen stayed behind in an attempt to disarm the self-destruct mechanism. I must assume they tesseracted away before the explosion. But they could be anywhere and anywhen. I can do nothing but wait for them to return.
As always, we hope you have enjoyed the tales of our adventures. And as we say before the start of every year, our greatest adventures are yet to come!
Sincerest Wishes,
Dr. Darien James Mason
P.S. I also published a story in Tales of New Babbage Volume I. Profits go to maintaining the city. GO BUY IT!
When Bloodwing was returned to the site of the altercation, Qlippothic (who gave up a chance a becoming fully human to rescue her brother) and Koen used Bloodwing's remains to form a conduit through which Ash (and his fellow survivors of the failed resistance, dubbed the Digital Knights) returned to our world. Bloodwing cast a Homunculi ritual to turn his detached pieces into miniature versions of himself to wreak havoc on the witches alongside the Digital Knights.
As I was observing from afar, I failed to notice a "noob" avatar by the name of "Bishop3" sit next to me in the sandspeeder, and in typical outlander fashion refused to leave even when the Yaga ships returned for a pitched battle. Little did I know that Mr. Bishop3 was actually my clone-brother Marcus Gabriel Mason!
I had to sabotage my own vehicle to disarm Marcus and keep the sandspeeder from plowing through the city itself. Things went from bad to worse as Marcus's psychic essence transferred to Ash, who aimed his weapon at me. Qli fired from a distance, destroying Ash's frame. However, Ash had self-ejected his hard drive into the sand nanoseconds before the moment of impact, and Marcus had likewise fled the doomed construct's body.
It was a Phyrric victory. Half of the Digital Knights had fallen, and just as we were surveying the carnage, the city of Cala Mondrago exploded before our eyes. The chained genii that powered the newest of the Steamlands revolted and turned the artificial oasis back into the dust from whence it came.
The flock of Bloodwing homunculi migrated to Steelhead, where Duchess Fauve Aeon used her stitchpunk magicks to resew the demon into a new bishoen form.
Just as we were catching our breath, we received word from my father that the Demon Wasps had hatched a new queen, and had opened a portal to conquer a nearby dimension. We boarded my ancestor's airship the Bloodwing's Revenge and tesseracted to that world, where we allied with Captain Helen de Fer of the pirate airship Dame de Fer and slew the gargantuan Queen of the Demon Wasps.
A few months later I was summoned to deal with a zombie-plague spreading through Steelhead. This was a curiously morphic affliction that managed to overcome even my own defenses, and I succumbed to the madness of Undeath. It took a time-travelling member of the Steelhead Air Force to shoot me with an antidote from my own inoculation gun!
After using the new serum to cure the rest of Steelhead, I returned to New Babbage to investigate a time-travelling artifact warning about something called the Dark Aether. Since the entire city seems to be coordinating on solving this issue, I took a hiatus to regain my strength.
Now, it saddens me to relate...
Last week, Ash had located the factory where the Daughters of Baba Yaga were building their attack craft in the Siberian wastes. Qlippothic, Ash, Koen, Bloodwing and Xavael, along with the remaining contingent of Digital Knights assaulted the factory and destroyed it. However, there were losses on our side.
The Clockwinder informed me that a faraway explosion had unbalanced some of his pendulums. He pointed Northeast. My instruments confirmed a seismic disruption from the site of the factory. After Bloodwing destroyed Baba Yaga, the factory self-destructed in a ball of atomic fire. The Bloodwing's Revenge barely escaped the blast zone, but the far-reaching electromagnetic pulse obliterated the surviving Digital Knights. Qlippothic and Koen stayed behind in an attempt to disarm the self-destruct mechanism. I must assume they tesseracted away before the explosion. But they could be anywhere and anywhen. I can do nothing but wait for them to return.
As always, we hope you have enjoyed the tales of our adventures. And as we say before the start of every year, our greatest adventures are yet to come!
Sincerest Wishes,
Dr. Darien James Mason
P.S. I also published a story in Tales of New Babbage Volume I. Profits go to maintaining the city. GO BUY IT!
Friday, December 23
Happy Holidays to You and Yours!
Happy Chanukah and Merry Christmas!
I received the most wonderful gift today...
A copy of Tales of New Babbage Volume 1, with a retelling of my story "The Sulphurstick Girl"! All proceeds go to the server costs of the city! A perfect stocking-stuffer for your little urchins, in addition to the lump of coal she's been begging you for!
Saturday, November 12
The Pendulum Swings Back: Dungeon Crawl Classics
Locked away securely in the Special Library of the Arcanum are pages from an obscure and ancient tome that records a time before monks and sorcerers and psionicists and artificers. Before half-orcs and half-elves and gnomes were known to Man. Because it is incomplete, it is known as the Nth Appendix of the Lore of Sötu.
Dungeon Crawl Classics (DCC) by @GoodmanGames is a D20 system devolved to it's 1974 origins. No Feats, no multiclassers, demihumans are classes unto themselves. Critical hit and miss tables and spectacular spell fumbles abound. Should your player survive his origins as a peasant recruit (highly unlikely...bring a mob!) and learn magic, your player cannot customize the magic. The magic customizes you.
I will be running a beta-test starting in December. The game itself is available in February, along with mutations such as the d14 and d17 (I actually did own a d30!) I will be recording the results.
Dungeon Crawl Classics (DCC) by @GoodmanGames is a D20 system devolved to it's 1974 origins. No Feats, no multiclassers, demihumans are classes unto themselves. Critical hit and miss tables and spectacular spell fumbles abound. Should your player survive his origins as a peasant recruit (highly unlikely...bring a mob!) and learn magic, your player cannot customize the magic. The magic customizes you.
I will be running a beta-test starting in December. The game itself is available in February, along with mutations such as the d14 and d17 (I actually did own a d30!) I will be recording the results.
Sunday, November 6
The Strange Case of the Writer of New Babbage
I was happy to be a part of the cure the Steelhead epidemic, even if indirectly. Future-Mindy had the antibodies in her blood with which to devise a vaccine to that particular strain. After that mishap, I was eager to return to my research in the comparatively quiet environs of the Wulfenbach Consulate in New Babbage (and possibly escape the wrath of Tensai and her explosives).
However, when I reached the smog-clouded port of New Babbage, I soon that there was some sort of emergency. There were a fraction of the usual revelers at the local tavern. And for revelers, they were quite dour and heavily armed. I was ready to quietly pass by when I over heard them complaining about time-travelers. That certainly got my attention.
They told me that a construct appeared in the Town Hall, whom they called The Writer. It immediately began scribing a tale, last page first. In that tale, the local heroes...Mayor Tenk, Chief Urchin Loki, and in this case I stretch the term to its limit by including Dr. Obolensky, as well as the fellows in that tavern were fighting an unearthly force called the Dark Aether. Even with the full might of Dr. O's mecha, Lord Smashington III, New Babbage fell, with the sole hope being a time machine sent back to warn us.
Already elements of the story have come to pass. Hordes of one-eyed crustaceans with claws that can rip through timbers have assaulted the townsfolk. The clergy of the local Church of the Builder have designed energy "blunderbusses" to stop them, apparently without the knowledge that their inventions were already described by the Writer's pages. According to the Writer, the next wave to attack Babbage will include kraken-like creatures from the deep, and a gloating, barely humanoid arch-nemesis.
I summoned Nova Sakigake and her companion, now known as Doctor Six. I showed them the Writer and its works, and asked them what conclusions they could draw from both their chronometric experience and depth of knowledge of the Mythos.
While there was insufficient information to pin the Dark Aether behind a previously known threat, Nova was able to suggest some weapon blueprints for dealing with the monsters. Examining the Writer and his prose, I have drawn the following conclusions:
The Writer appears to be made by a local Spark from locally abundant resources, possibly from the Clockwinder himself. I daresay it appears to be hastily made. It does not respond to stimuli except to rewrite its tale, adding more to the beginning until, it is assumed, our timeline and its own point of origin intersect. The story is...not edited well. There are misspellings and incorrect punctuation, as if the tale was dictated and hastily written. I noted the word "colour", we can assume the author is not American.
There was no mention of either the Masons or the Wulfenbachs, somewhat out of character for both of our organizations to be absent in a crisis of this magnitude. Could the Writer be from the same timeline as Future-Mindy, where the Masons were relegated to jailers of "Necropolis!Steelhead"?
Perhaps it's time to dive the Bloodwing's Revenge into the ocean depths and intercept the inhuman mastermind behind the Dark Aether before it reaches the city.
However, when I reached the smog-clouded port of New Babbage, I soon that there was some sort of emergency. There were a fraction of the usual revelers at the local tavern. And for revelers, they were quite dour and heavily armed. I was ready to quietly pass by when I over heard them complaining about time-travelers. That certainly got my attention.
They told me that a construct appeared in the Town Hall, whom they called The Writer. It immediately began scribing a tale, last page first. In that tale, the local heroes...Mayor Tenk, Chief Urchin Loki, and in this case I stretch the term to its limit by including Dr. Obolensky, as well as the fellows in that tavern were fighting an unearthly force called the Dark Aether. Even with the full might of Dr. O's mecha, Lord Smashington III, New Babbage fell, with the sole hope being a time machine sent back to warn us.
Already elements of the story have come to pass. Hordes of one-eyed crustaceans with claws that can rip through timbers have assaulted the townsfolk. The clergy of the local Church of the Builder have designed energy "blunderbusses" to stop them, apparently without the knowledge that their inventions were already described by the Writer's pages. According to the Writer, the next wave to attack Babbage will include kraken-like creatures from the deep, and a gloating, barely humanoid arch-nemesis.
I summoned Nova Sakigake and her companion, now known as Doctor Six. I showed them the Writer and its works, and asked them what conclusions they could draw from both their chronometric experience and depth of knowledge of the Mythos.
While there was insufficient information to pin the Dark Aether behind a previously known threat, Nova was able to suggest some weapon blueprints for dealing with the monsters. Examining the Writer and his prose, I have drawn the following conclusions:
The Writer appears to be made by a local Spark from locally abundant resources, possibly from the Clockwinder himself. I daresay it appears to be hastily made. It does not respond to stimuli except to rewrite its tale, adding more to the beginning until, it is assumed, our timeline and its own point of origin intersect. The story is...not edited well. There are misspellings and incorrect punctuation, as if the tale was dictated and hastily written. I noted the word "colour", we can assume the author is not American.
There was no mention of either the Masons or the Wulfenbachs, somewhat out of character for both of our organizations to be absent in a crisis of this magnitude. Could the Writer be from the same timeline as Future-Mindy, where the Masons were relegated to jailers of "Necropolis!Steelhead"?
Perhaps it's time to dive the Bloodwing's Revenge into the ocean depths and intercept the inhuman mastermind behind the Dark Aether before it reaches the city.
Saturday, October 22
Artwork: Dr. Mason and the Absinthe Fairy by @dechanique
Commissioned and drawn at Interventioncon 2011 by Deanna Echanique, the same lady who designed my current icon. If you're not reading her steampunk/fantasy/erotica series La Macchina Bellica, bloody well you should when you get home from work!
Steelhead: Necropolis Now!
I cannot tell you when the plague finally overcame me. It was a seamless transition in my delirium from caring for my single patient to caring for everyone else that would soon succumb. If this contagion is unstoppable, as I feared, we need to establish a graveyard. As is the case for the Haitian variety of zombie, the first one to establish themselves in a cemetery (prime real estate) is called the Baron. And if Patient Zero refuses to take responsibility for leading those he has infected...
"I was the first to call a town meeting in Steelhead, and so shall I be the last! A new dusk arrives for this, our fair city! Now for our agenda!"
The room was quiet save for the echoes of my own ranting. I knew it would soon be standing room only.
"Motion one! The dead shall rise and walk among the living! Resolved! Motion two! The dead shall rise and eat the living! In progress!"
Though my vision was starting to blur sightly, I could see the Founder staring through the window, his arms crossed grimly.
"What's the matter, Old Man?" I shouted. "Why won't you come in? Prior agreements? Oh such a pity! Qlippothic and Ash won't stop me...I can override them! Koen and Amarantis? Let them join me by my side! Where's your precious angel, I wonder? Cowering in his Shanghai tower?"
He gave no response. Still as a statue.
"No matter. Time for a bit of old-fashioned necromancy!"
I lifted the huge tome bound in questionable hide and lowered it with a heavy thump on the podium. Frost grew in delicate lattices across the windows soon after I opened the pages.
"Let me see...ah, there it is. Lichdom!"
My voice strained through the opening syllables, but I could invoke the final request in English.
"Ancient spirits of Evil! Transform this decayed..."
"Floppy Dong!" shouted a voice from the main entrance.
I slammed the book shut immediately. This was not the sort of ritual that tolerated foolish pranks.
"YOU!" I pointed to the short redhead in the airshipman's uniform who stood at the doorway to the meeting hall. "You're not dead yet! Come back later!"
"I'm afraid this can't wait...Doctah Mushtash. We made a pinky-promise, remember? Qlippothic sent me back in time to make sure it comes true."
"What? What pink..." I noticed the glimmer of the steel washer I had neglected to remove. "Oh MINDY! Oh how sweet! You seem to have been cured! A marvelous testament to my medical skills! Now please, go back to your own timeline. Hell, take little Mindy with you before I decide to paradox you out of existence myself!"
She lifted a weapon and aimed it towards me. The glow of the serum chambers were brighter and bluer than my traditional formula, but there was no doubt it was an inoculation pistol. My own pistol!
"Oh I see how this goes!" I climbed over the podium and stared down at her, with the full hunger of the undead rising to the surface. "Didn't I ever tell you that Masons never get happy endings?"
The next moment it felt like an elephant had slapped me on the neck with its trunk, and I fell to the ground writhing. When I came to, it was she who was staring down me. I could not help but notice the washer on a chain around her neck.
"You look better already."
"Did you have to aim for the carotid?"
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