Thursday, April 19, 2012

Dungeonspiration: Group Gestalt

Player dynamics in role playing games have always fascinated me.  Often, a group is made of individualistic players whose goals and modis operandi don't sync up at all.  But sometimes, a gaggle of gamers morphs into a group with a capital 'G.'  I love those times.

Not like this at all.  Really.
At the beginning of our Stars Without Number campaign, the PCs were a group of loners who just happened to be travelling in the same general direction and had a tendency of taking the same two bit, mostly illegal jobs from various criminal syndicates and interstellar corporations.  Then they became involved with a bizarre alien race called the Methans and took a job from them at a backwater mining space station around a extremely radioactive star in the Hard Light system.

The Hard Light system is the subject of Kevin Crawford's Stars Without Number module Hard Light.  The setting has a great claustrophobic feel to it, with cramped space stations and asteroid exploration.  It really reminds me of what would happen if you crammed Keep on the Borderlands into the Sean Connery movie Outland.

For some reason, the group seemed to change at Hard Light.  The characters were sent there to investigate and deal with a mysterious production issue plaguing the station.  Perhaps it was the focus of the mission, the claustrophobic setting, the fact that the group was basically stranded in the system for four months, or perhaps that EVERYONE but the group members themselves were suspects - but the group began to gain cohesion.  They started acting as a unit, investigating the mystery secretly while they pretended to be ordinary workers.  I was really amazed by how they cooperated and quickly put the pieces of the mystery together while actually taking an interest in the setting and the NPCs.

Another strange, and completely unexpected moment of cohesion happened soon after.  The party was working on infiltrating a small pirate base.  They had met a completely inconsequential pilot for the pirates and had convinced him (with force) to smuggle them into the base.  I decided that the pilot should be a blond Rastafarian with dreadlocks named Kingston who said 'Mon' a lot.  They immediately took a dislike to poor old Kingston.

At the base, they met another blond Rastafarian pirate named Pierre.  This further enraged the group.  I still don't quite understand why.

They started calling the pirates 'Franco Aryan Jamaican Nazi Pirates.'

It was deemed that the Franco Aryan Jamaican Nazi Pirates should not be allowed to live and breath in the same universe in which the PCs existed.  Pirate genocide began seconds after that decision.

"Dere be no reason to be shooting at me with your raggedy laser gun, Mon!"

Eventually, the group got their hands on a pirate ship named the Fat Tuesday and re-purposed it to hunt down and kill pirates.  One of the characters declared himself the captain.  The other players didn't argue with this coup d'état, since the new captain offered to pay the NPC's salaries out of his own pocket.  The group suddenly had a leader - Captain Reginald Goodnight.  Now, I've never seen a leader arise in a group without a lot of trouble - but this one grew organically, and oddly enough, helped to solidify the group even more.

The party still has disagreements about their goals, and exactly how to obtain them.  They can be horribly scattered during combat.  But this group - the crew of the Fat Tuesday, really clicks.  It's a group with a capital 'G,' and it's quite fun to watch the hive mind churn.

Case in point - during the last game the group encountered a starship captain named Biff Thadderson.  I modelled Captain Biff's mannerisms and speech off of Captain Zapp Brannigan from Futurama.  I felt this would be a death knell for Captain Biff, especially since I gave the party the opportunity to kill Biff off without lifting a finger.  I mean, the dude is annoying and I designed him specifically to be annoying.

Um . . . not like this, either.  Really.

But the players fell in LOVE with Captain Biff.  Simultaneously.  Like - WHAM!  I mean, I wouldn't be surprised if they go and marry him as a group or something.  And now I am stuck having to talk in an excited radio announcer's voice half the time.

It's an evil plot against me, I tell you.

But that's what happens when a group forges together in that peculiar was that seems to only happen around a table with dice clinking and the swilling of mass quantities of Diet Coke.  It's really inspiring.

- Ark

Monday, April 16, 2012

Anthropomorphized RPGs

This is a call for descriptions of role playing games in anthropomorphic form.  Odd, yeah.  Check my OSR-tan blog entry for a more in-depth explanation, but to simplify, I'm looking for descriptions of roleplaying games as people.  Just pick a game and describe it as a person down in the comments.  It doesn't have to be 'osr' - whatever that means.  New games are fine too.  OSR is just a play on OSR here.

Chris, over on the original OSR-Tan post, has kicked us off with some excellent descriptions.  More please!  Remember, the descriptions should be descriptions of the rpgs in human (or demihuman) form, with characteristics or traits that back up the 'essence' of that game.  Both positive and negative elements can be explored, and games can be described multiple times by multiple people.

So go for it and have fun.  Thanks!

- Ark

Sunday, April 15, 2012

OSR-Tan Art Challenge

The OS-Tan Crew
Okay, this idea is weird, but bear with me here.  You may have heard of OS-Tan.  Its a bizarre Japanese meme in which various versions of operating systems and programs are anthropomorphized into distinct characters, typically cute anime girls.  I was thinking - why couldn't the same thing be done for various gaming systems as well?  After all, the OSR already has an association with hot elf chicks.

So, what we need are two things for the OSR-Tan Art Challenge.  First, we need a distinct description of a mascot, for a particular version of a role playing game, like Holes D&D, 2nd Edition Advanced D&D, Metamorphosis Alpha, or Synnibarr.  Then we need someone to draw that description.  Anyone who wants to, really - it doesn't matter.    The more the merrier.  If you have your own RPG, come up with a description yourself and draw it even!

This would be an ongoing, eternal challenge - open until the end of time.  No losers, only winners.  :)

So, anyone interested?  Write a description in the comments.  Post a link to your own drawings.  Whatever.  I would be more than happy to tackle some of the art - I just don't have any really good descriptions in mind.

Have fun!

- Ark

P.S. - Don't complain if the mascot for your favorite RPG comes out as something you hate.  Your input is VITAL to the process. :)


Friday, April 13, 2012

Drawing Meme Thing

The wacky kids over on deviantArt do things like this all the time.  I figured I'd give it a try for fast sketching practice - and to familiarize myself with what the heck The Boy is talking about rage-meme-wise these days. ;)

I wonder if anyone has ever used these things in an RPG.  Probably best used in a game of Paranoia.  Anyway - here is a link to the blank.



WHY YOU NO PLAY D&D!

- Ark

Sunday, April 8, 2012

Customer Service


Here is an Easter Story for you.  Okay, honestly, it has nothing to do with Easter.  Sorry.  But enjoy all the same!

Ayalaya strode across the walkway with her bright blue burqua flowing behind her.  Attendants in orange and yellow dress followed behind her, trying to keep up.  There was a queue at the ticket counter, but Ayalaya shoved people aside with her blue gloved hands.

"May I help . . ." the chitinous alien with a bulbous, bright red nose said in a perfect Midwestern accent.  Its mandibles were deftly twisted into an creepy, yet serviceable smile.

"You people misplaced our boarding passes, and I demand recompense and rectification," Ayalaya slammed her fist down on the counter.

The alien agent's nose twitched.  "Of course.  If you will just move to the back of the line and wait your turn . . ."

Ayalaya's veil puffed outwards as she huffed.  "Do you not know who I am?"

The agent's nose rose an inch high, twitched, and settled back down.  "No, ma'am.  Please, there are customers. . ."

"What is with your nose?" Ayalaya pointed at it with a gloved hand.

"Ma'am, it is not a nose.  It is my reproductive organ.  If you will please go to . . ."

"What?" Ayalaya's voice echoed throughout the entire space terminal.  “I demand to speak to your manager immediately!”

A pencil thin, bright yellow, eight foot tall manager appeared from behind a door, its four arms sticking out of a neatly buttoned navy blue blazer.  The alien rubbed its hands together and created a huge elastic smile on its face.

“How may I . . . “

“This thing,” Ayala pointed at the agent, “has sexually assaulted me!”

“Oh . . .” the manager said, “I’m sure there has been some kind of mistake.  After all, the two of you are different species.”

Ayalaya gasped.  “How dare you doubt my word!  My wife is a high Imam in the Holy Order of Sapphic Islam!”  The angry woman shoved a stack of brochures off the counter onto the ground, and then stomped on them.  “My wife will have your jobs and own this rinky-dink little spaceline before the day is through!”

“Please, please,” the yellow alien said, “Please come around the corner to the VIP counter.  My superior is there and she will take care of your personally.”

Ayalaya huffed, “Fine then, but do not think your job is safe yet!”  She and her entourage headed off, disappearing around the corner.

The manager turned to the agent, whose nose was vibrating back and forth very quickly.  “I’m very unhappy with you, X’Tlaktl,” the manager hissed.

“I am very sorry, sir,” the ticket agent lowered his head, his nose still vibrating. “The human was yelling at me.”

“So?”

“It was very . . . stimulating.  It brought up my urge to . . . breed.”

The manger rolled his four eyes, “You are a complete pervert, X’Tlaktl.  Control yourself, or I shall make you wear a veil too.”

“I can’t help it, sir.”

“Think about it this way, X’Tlaktl.  What is under the blue cloth?”

“A human.”

“A human with skin.”

“Skin . . . oh,” the ticket agent’s nose deflated.  “How gross!”

“Exactly,” the manager huffed, turned, and rushed around the corner to deal with the irate customer and somehow save his job.

- Ark

Saturday, April 7, 2012

Vorpal Lapels


This is me, eagerly awaiting the publication of Dungeons and Dragons, which was a couple of months off at the time.  Okay, admittedly, I would have no idea what D&D was until about six years later, but still, I was ready to DM.  Just look at . . .

  1. Those pudgy little fingers, itching to roll d20s,
  2. Those buster browns, ready to stomp on the aspirations of all the PCs, 
  3. The vorpal lapels, sharpened to a keen edge and ready to decapitate players late for the game,
  4. The velour vest with a belt . . . um . . . dear god.  I know nothing about fashion, but even I know that such an outfit is tantamount to child abuse.  Seriously, Mother, what were you thinking?  

I just threw up in my mouth a little.  Please excuse me for a bit.

- Ark