David Artman

Facebook Events In Google Calendar

 Technology, Writing  Comments Off on Facebook Events In Google Calendar
Jan 202011
Google Calendar - Other calendars panel

Google Calendar - Other calendars panel

Folks who know me know I’m irritated by Facebook closing the native interfaces to Google apps (specifically Calendar on Android). Turns out, there’s Another Way:

  1. Go to any Event that you are Attending.
  2. Scroll all the way down to the bottom of the page.
  3. Click Export.
    A pop-up will offer you two options for that single Event: Download or email.
    It also shows a link under “Export all of your upcoming events.”
  4. Highlight that link and copy it (or right-click it and choose Copy link location).
  5. Open Google Calendar in your web browser.
  6. Under “Other calendars,” click Add > Add by URL.
  7. Paste the Facebook URL into the pop-up’s URL field.
    Note: You probably do not want to check the checkbox to make it public.
  8. Click Add Calendar and then wait a moment. A “Firstname Lastname ‘s Facebook” calendar should appear on your “Other calendars” list.
  9. Sync with your Android device or other Google Calendars client and enjoy!


Food Bank Coordination

 Application, Design  Comments Off on Food Bank Coordination
Jan 072011


Municipal food banks depend upon food donations to serve the hungry. Coordinating donors with bank locations becomes a logistical challenge:

  • Picking up donations in a timely manner, without disrupting donor business
  • Distributing donations to banks that need them most
  • Accounting for the storage space of banks
  • Transferring food between banks, if actual numbers do not align with projected needs

Use Cases

A donor registers what they have to donate on a Google map, and chooses a range of pickup time (e.g. a restaurant will usually want it to be between 2pm and 4pm; a grocery store might prefer 10pm to 2am). Options to schedule recurring pickup days, dates, and times.

A recipient registers current stock (one-time, upon setup), storage maximums by volume or weight or other? (one-time, upon setup; and if storage increased), pickup minimums by volume or weight (below which it’s not worth the bank’s costs to pick-up; adjustable as needs change), and projected need (daily, weekly; based on history, once sufficient data is accumulated).

A bank’s delivery drivers are given a “traveling salesman” shortest route to pickup donations equivalent to the bank’s projected need. When they commit to the route, those donations are not made available to other banks unless released later by the receiving bank (to be re-distributed where most needed).


Initial setup form, as donor only or recipient/donor.

Site (donor or bank) location definition, via manual text entry, push-pin on Google map, or GPS.

Secure verification of valid bank via server check against state or municipal registries.

User deletion of “bad” donor locations -OR- “bad” donor location reporting and server-side banning.

Multiple location support, for owners of several donor businesses or managers of multiple food banks.

Route navigation interface, once a bank’s delivery drivers commit to best-route pick-ups.

Option to use less efficient routing, if necessary to deliver more balanced meals at a given bank or system-wide.

Historical data storage, server-side or locally, for need projection for a given distribution period (day, week, month?).

Optional automatic application of need projections based on historical data, with ability to adjust before submitting to server for distribution.


Application development and maintenance – Open source community? Grants?

Validation of food banks against municipal or state charters – Possibly manual labor; possibly automatic with connection to government systems.

Server-side data accumulation and re-distribution to apps – Possibly a function of a public Google map; more likely hosted via grant or by government servers.


Creative Commons 3.0 BY-NC-SAThis work is distributed by David Carle Artman under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 License.

Jan 272010

Penalty Pool is a billiards game with a twist: players do not accumulate points for making shots, but rather they try to avoid accumulating penalty points for missing shots and for fouls.


Be the player to accumulate the fewest penalty points during a match comprised of a predetermined number of games (usually three).


Position fifteen object balls at every intersection of imaginary lines drawn between opposite spots, excluding the three intersections at the head and foot of the table.

Penalty Pool Setup

Determine who will shoot first; that player takes the cue ball in hand and may place it anywhere on the table to begin play.

Rules Of Play

On every shot attempt, the shooting player must:

  • hit any object ball,
  • pocket any object ball,
  • avoid hitting any rail with the cue ball, and
  • avoid hitting any other ball with the cue ball.

Failure to accomplish the above shot requirements results in one or more fouls, with associated penalty points accrued by the offending player:

  • Miss all object balls = 3 penalty points and end of turn.
  • Fail to pocket any object ball = 1 penalty point and end of turn.
  • Hit a rail with the cue ball = 1 penalty point per rail hit (does not end turn).
  • Hit any other ball with the cue ball = 3 penalty points per ball hit (does not end turn).

Score penalty points as they occur. It is possible to commit multiple fouls on a single shot, accumulating penalty points for each foul. For example, if a player failed to pocket a ball, hit a rail with the cue ball, and also hit another ball then he or she would accumulate (1 + 1 + 3) 5 penalty points and his or her turn would end. Had the player pocketed a ball, however, he or she would only have accumulated 4 penalty points and would be able to continue shooting.

The player that pockets the final ball on the table reduces his or her penalty points score by 5 penalty points and is awarded 1 game point. All fifteen object balls are repositioned according to the setup diagram above, and that player’s turn ends.

The cue ball is not repositioned unless it would be touching or overlapping an object ball after setup; in that case, the next player takes the cue ball in hand and may place it anywhere on the table to resume play.

At the conclusion of the predetermined number of games, players compare penalty points. The player with the fewest penalty points is the winner; if the penalty points scores are tied, then the player with the most game points is the winner.


Penalty Pool encourages a soft touch, spin control, and careful risk/reward management. Early in a game, it is of primary importance to pocket a ball and avoid penalty points. Late in a game, one may risk accumulating penalty points in the hopes of pocketing the remainder of the balls and reducing one’s penalty points by five. Accumulating penalty points, in general, takes the pressure to avoid fouls off of one’s opponent, which can easily give him or her the latitude to pocket all of the remaining balls.

Aug 122009

Basic Mechanic

In any given conflict–be it over a particular exchange of blow in a melee or an extended exchange of dialog resulting in a social skill check–each participating player reveals one of his or her Uno cards. Highest card wins; ties are broken by color, with the winner being the most appropriate narration of the color in use (color ties are actual ties: stalemate… for now!).

Color Designations

Each of the four colors of Uno cards is associated with a particular set or class of capabilities, as appropriate to the LARP genre. For example, a spy game might use these associations:

Coolness; useful when the situation favors a poker face, steady hands, or nerves of steel.
Wealth; useful when the situation is best handled by greasing palms or being best dressed.
Fury; useful when the situation is best handled with violence, scathing words, or sheer stubbornness.
Caution; useful when the situation favors the soft pedal approach, discretion, sneakiness, or fleeing in terror.

Winners and Losers

The winner of an exchange trades cards with the loser. In the case of multiple participating players, the cards are rotated in a highest-to-lowest manner; for example:

  • Player A won outright, with an 8. Player B got middle ground, with a 6. Player C lost outright, with a 2.
  • Player A gives his or her card to Player B. Player B gives his or her card to Player C. Player C gives his or her card to Player A.
  • As a result, the winner gets the worst card, the loser gets the next best card, and the middle ground gets the best card.

Character Creation

The fundamental system for creating a character involves distributing cards of color and value appropriate to the character concept and build. The specifics exceed the scope of this basic system idea, but one could design a game such that descriptive “Traits” grant a set of cards; or perhaps limited-use “Powers” could allow for adjusting a card value or color upon reveal. For example, a spy game might have these “Traits” with the associated “Points Costs”:

Martial Artist
Red 5, 7, 9. Blue 6. (28 Points)
High Society
Green 6, 8. Yellow 7. (21 Points)
Red 4, 6. Yellow 7, 9. (26 Points)

Note: Whether or not a game uses Traits or Powers (or Points Cost for custom building characters), all characters must be created with an equal number of cards, so that the zero-sum card-exchange process results in someone always having the same number of cards to reveal and exchange.

National Society For The Prevention Of Cruelty To NPCs

 Fiction, Writing  Comments Off on National Society For The Prevention Of Cruelty To NPCs
May 012009

What if the NPCs that gamers so wantonly destroy got organized…?

I was a wreck, a shambles… nerves shot, I tell ya! Without the kind ministry of the NSPCNPC, I couldn’t even tell you this horror story without a belly full of the hard stuff and a half yard of linen for snottin’ on.

Me and me lads were just having a piss-up ’round the pub, when in walks this weird group of richies and their hulking bodyguard. Never seen such armor and fine, shining steel. –And who wears armor to the pub, anyway? But I digress….

So’s anyway, the tart of the group–a fine-enough looking wench dressed like she’s planning to work upstairs at the Speckled Hen, if ya ken–sidles up and asks me and the lads if we’d like a bit of work for a few days. Yeah, right, we’ll “work” for ya–nudge, nudge. The bodyguard didn’t much take to our little jokes, and we were about to tell ’em all to sod off, but this skinny, shifty-eyed bloke in the group drops a heavy looking sack of dosh onna table and tells us to be ready to leave at dawn. Fair enough–we could drink until dawn, easily; done it most week’s ends.

And so it’s now dawn, we’re a bit the worse for drink but can still shift the packs we’re given to haul, and the group leads us up into the hills. And then into a bloody cave–no, really, they did, I’m not takin’ the piss! We din’ even know there was caves in the hills, ’cause most good folk know better than to muck about up there, what with the wolves and bears and such. But, hey, we’d drank half our pay already, so it wasn’t like we could pay these barmy blokes back and leave! And the bodyguard woulda likely skewered us on his improbably sized sword, if’n we’d just tried runnin’ off. SO… Some torches, a bit of roping together, and we become speelunkers.

That when the first horror struck–some fell beast or such, like we’d never seen… and poor Barney–the fella with the big jowls and rheumy eyes that used to live over west?–that’s when he was took. Split right in two, like a sausage for pan-frying, and there’s blood all over everyfing. I was set for quittin’ right then, but the beady-eyed bastard what paid us starts waving around a nasty little pig-sticker, and it seems we’re in for the long haul. But, hey, at least our shares in the pay had just gone up! Gotta find the silver lining, not to pun ya.

It never got any better after that, though. Freddie the Fisher was told to open an odd-looking door–don’t ask me why there’s a bloody fooking DOOR in some old caves!–and he lets out this sort of soft sigh and just slumps to the ground, deader’n last years Christmas goose. Turns out some right bastard had hid some kinda thorn or some-such, with a narsty poison onnit, behind the door pull… and it was Freddie’s day in the barrel, like they say.

Should I go on to recount, in gory detail, how Stew was disemboweled by some kinda bear with the head of a fookin’ BIRD? Or how Little Mark was made to lead the way down a corridor and got pin-cushioned by bleedin’ arrows flying outta the damned WALLS?! Or Frank from Bogend being crushed under a cave-in when he was told to poke and prod at some squiggle-marked wall with a stave?

I still hear their screams, though I can at least sleep through the night, now, thanks to the NSPCNPC. But I don’t think I’ll EVER get over the fact that the bastard “adventurers” raked in a haul of lucre enough to feed a family of ten for 50 years, were lauded as heroes by the smallfolk back in town, and ended up shagging every virgin left in the county! It’s a bad world, I reckon; and the worser the crew, the better their lot. Here we’d lost six of our stoutest lads–all with families to feed and plots to work–and I’d’ve been left in that pit with them if I hadn’t been just a wee bit lighter on my feet than Little Mark. Want to see my “share” of the take…? Here, take a long look at the right arm I ain’t got anymore!

It could happen to you. Support the NSPCNPC.

I am known as Hallal, The All-Devourer! [not real name] Kneel before me and beg that I might merely make you a slave!

Before the NSPCNPC, my glorious fortress was incessantly broken into, pillaged, and sometimes even woefully damaged by thrill-seeking, greedy miscreants! Swine in clattering armor and crackling robes! Sure, some would profess being begged to assault my property and person because of… minor disagreements with some of my neighbors in the village in the vale. But who are these foreigners to dictate terms to Hallal?!? Who are they to meddle in mere internal politics and issues of proper sacrifice schedules, availability of virgins, and eminent domain?

Well, as it turns out, they’re foreigners with extensive resources, rather advanced educations, and apparently some contacts with deities. Err, that is, deities LESSER THAN I, THE ALL-DEVOURER!!!

And, so, unbelievable as it may seem, I was made to suffer discorporation and the painful and time-consuming degradation of finding a new vic–um, assistant–to enjoy the hospitality of their mortal form. I treat such host forms quite well–after all, su casa me casa, no?–and I even entertain petitions from what’s left of their minds, every fourth full moon. It’s an amenable relationship to all concerned: I live, they don’t get devoured.

Then I must make my way back to my desmense, COMPLETELY restaff, effect repairs to my walls and internal security measures… the costs are atrocious, and an All-Devourer KNOWS what that word means. Just for another pack of interlopers to muck it all up again!

But all that ended when I joined the NSPCNPC. Their attorneys have issued restraining orders on the local villagers and sued the village’s mayor for slander and libel, which provided me with a timely leg-up on expanding my labor base to better-patrol the grounds surrounding my fell keep. And should yet-another wayward party of murderous ideologues come around, the NSPCNPC provides temp solutions for a variety of pest-repellent professions.

My home has never been safer, nor more peaceful. Well… for me, that is. You, not so much….

“LitRPG” – Game Text As Literature

 Criticism, RPG  Comments Off on “LitRPG” – Game Text As Literature
Jan 072009

From a post at Story-Games.com

David Artman  Jan 7th 2009 edited
First, thanks for backing off terms… so let’s back off “what is art” as that’s never been answered by even Rhodes Scholars. 😉

Posted By: TomasHVM– And let us discuss how the games-format may influence the reading.

  • What kind of qualities are present in a game-text, and in the reading of it, that makes it a strong communication device?
  • How can we make really readable game-texts?

NOW, we’re cooking with gas: something we can attempt to enumerate, techniques of writing and what they accomplish. *puts on dusty old Lit Crit hat and robes*

OK, one thing RPG manuals tend to have is a structure which is influenced by the procedural nature of play: when do you do what and why and what’s next? Other than technical manuals (in all their forms, from “How To” books to IT manuals), no other “genre” of writing does that. What does that buy us? I’d say it brings a sort of formalism and pacing: aside from authorial voice and varied diction, they are going to give a sort of “march” feel to the work. Maybe even meditative, as the pace is felt and matched by the reader.

They also tend to present information in referential manners, be they summaries of procedures, or just your typical charts and graphs of laundry lists of shit. This referential format strips out every nuance, dictional curlicue, and “voice” to present the bare facts. In that way, they can be like the “HALT!” shouted by a drill sergeant, to continue to (ab)use my marching metaphor–the cadence breaks as we rattle off a list of terms or numbers or both, like presenting arms. Compare that to, say, those statistics list one reads that convey a message, e.g. (stats not real, but close):
* Billions spent on heart disease research in 2007: 45
* Number of American death from heart disease in 2007: 500,000
* Billions spent fighting terrorism in 2007: 300
* Number of American deaths from terrorism in 2007: 16

The point is made crystal clear (above: our government spending priorities are FUCKED), but with nary a jot of expression or style. Editorialized by the timing and choice of what is listed, not by the tone or mood conveyed in the writing of the list.

I’ll stop there, for now, to see if I’m spring-boarding the right way (or hieing off into the trees). For obvious reason, I won’t bother to address “game fiction” or “setting fiction” at this point, as it uses all the same devices of a novel or short story, and that’s of minimal interest to me (mainly because there’s already a HUGE body of work that addresses how to do those forms). Readability, I’d say, falls into the same camp: a readable game text has the same qualities as a readable magazine article, novel, or biography. Clarity, diction, etc (or the opposite, if you’re going all deconstructive on us). Become a decent writer–poetry, prose, manuals, whatever–and you will be a good game writer.

– And measured against “ordinary” literature:

  • Is it possible that a games-format is a stronger read than say; a novel, in certain aspects?
  • Could a book of game-texts be as good a read as any collection of short stories?

Stronger? hard to say–what’s the point, what’s the theme, what’s the message? Every format suits some deliveries more than others. I want to woo a woman, a poem is going to go better than an 800-page novel. I want to explore a nuanced and complex theme, through the agency of several interrelated characters? I’m at the least going novella.

As for the second question, I’m going to go cheap and just say, “Sure.” Particularly with game text of the type you’re most suggesting: the RPG Poems With A Message. Time and tastes play a big part in that, though: a book of fan fic shorts about Star Wars will probably bore me FAR more than some witty, thought-provoking, or saddening RPG Poems that hit me square between the eyes with issues current and near and dear to me.

So, really, the better (or more interesting to me) question is what things can RPG Poems do BETTER than existing formats; and I believe I begin to explore that above, by unpacking a bit what an RPG format is and what that does to the reader’s expectations and reading behavior. And, as I said above, I’d like to be sure we want to go there before I do that heavy lifting–being a game writer AND editor AND technical writer, I can go into a fair bit of depth about atonality, neutral (AKA common) diction, procedural presentation and structure, projecting attitudes, and “writing between the lines.” Hell, you’d be amazed at the sort of shit a Major Corporation has me do, to “write around” flaws of design without admitting them–that’s, basically, the exact tack, flipped, that Somalian Children takes.

(Sorry so long, but that’s what you get for intriguing me.)
[edited for clarity and corrections]

TomasHVM  Jan 7th 2009 edited

First out: David; this is pure gold to me! Really interesting discussion of the topic. Your thoughts on “the procedural nature of play” is good!
This is really good: This referential format strips out every nuance, dictional curlicue, and “voice” to present the bare facts. I see what you are aiming at here, and it tingles my brain! I would very much like to read your thoughts on atonality, neutral diction, procedural presentation and structure, projecting attitudes, and “writing between the lines.” ALL of it, and more, if you would … please!

David Artman  Jan 8th 2009

Shit, I had to offer. KINDA busy, today, but I’ll get us started.

Baseline writing and what’s left unsaid

So I’m going to write a “LitRPG” (I need a shorthand). I can approach it like Somalian Children, with an essentially neutral tone–no rants, reads like a tech manual–and let its very starkness carry my meaning. Here’s a chart, roll your d10s, consult the chart to see your fate. BUT, if you know anything about math, you see that you’ve got a 1:1000 chance of surviving–that’s not said in the text, that’s left for you to realize. And the realization of the unsaid carries the message and theme and impact. Now you can re-read and the whole tone is changed; the cynicism just drips off the page. HOW? The text hasn’t changed. The tone is still there, sill consistent and neutral. But now, having “got it,” you can imagine the author staring balefully at you, accusingly, his voice so flat he sounds like the dead. Becasue isn’t that the REAL point: what have YOU done to help these poor children? Isn’t that the takeaway message, the unsaid?

Projecting attitude

That neutral tone, however, needn’t be the whole bag… in fact, more and more “RPG texts” are conveying a strong authorial diction and style, moving away from (and even mocking) the neutral tone of a tech manual. So our LitRPG can take that tack, and present a seeming “game,” but with an editorialized voice that shows it’s clearly not meant to be played and, rather, is meant to carry a message or cause a change of thought. I’ll bring up HoL, here, as an easy and obvious example of this (IMO). Yeah, sure, the game is somewhat playable, with a lot of rule repair and addition (or a freeform-loving play group), but it’s REALLY suppose to be a screed. It’s a punk zine disguised as a game which (it seems) takes the piss out of all the “structure” of gaming–could they be one of the first “system doesn’t matter” writers? Are they trying to say, “look, just have fun and fuck the details,” or are they actually MOCKING those gamers or that gaming culture which get so buried in stat and crunch that they get twenty minutes of WOW for every four hours of play? (Sound familiar? HoL authors as first Forrgites?!?) Or am I bringing my own experiences into the mix; am *I* the one projecting meaning and attitude onto the book? For the record, I’d say no in this case: I read HoL when it came out, WAY before exposure to all this theory, and I still saw it as taking the piss out of many contemporary RPG systems. But another LitRPG could well work with ambiguity, leaving each reader to project onto it their own interpretation and intent, just as much poetry does.


So above we have the two poles of a tonal continuum: writing between the lines and bitch-slapping with editorializing. But there’s a third path, an orthogonal axis: one can use shifts in tone in a LitRPG to really hammer a point. If I have you lulled into the meditative march of neutral tone procedural writing and then, WHAM, start off on a screed about how this fucking chart is WORTHLESS if you don’t have a heart to care about the children, you fucking DICK!

Well, you sort of snap to attention, no? Where did all THAT come from, what did I just miss? Is this guy schitzo? Etcetera. You, as a reader, have to engage different mental gears to address this shift in tone… and then engage still more when I drop back into a staid and steady, neutral tone again. Done poorly, this atonality will seem like Tourette’s Syndrome (just as bad atonal music sounds like folks in different rooms, tuning up or adjusting their synthesizers). Done properly, it can underscore the moments of consistency AND convey a message, via contrasting tone, with the moments of insanity (just as the completion of an atonal music progression can make all the disjointed notes attain a sort of “metaharmony”).


This one is the big one, because for all the talk of tone, it’s the order of presentation which carries at least half the weight. In a typical RPG, we often see a color piece, to establish the mood of play for the game, followed quickly by a series of definitional sections, so that one isn’t totally lost as to what to do when the procedural stuff starts using the game jargon. Suppose that was tossed out the door? Suppose an RPG was written like A Clockwork Orange, with immediate total immersion in a nearly thoroughly different language? What is said, by that? One has to read it twice, just to get the sense–or jump to the glossary in the back of some editions, to try to get a baseline. A LitRPG can do the same thing, by eschewing the standard structure of a typical RPG.

But what is said by FOLLOWING the typical RPG structure: intro, define terms, establish character, present procedures of play, flesh out setting (again, fiction or reference material or monster lists or whatever). That goes back to tone and diction: is it homage or satire? Or is the fact that it’s hard to answer that question part of the exploration of the LitRPG?

Or, rather than eliminating common structure or following it to convey additional meaning, what about a disjointed structure? Cart before the horse stuff–all the procedures of play presented before you even know if you are a character or in author stance or what; absolutely no information about setting in the presentation of what is clearly NOT a generic system? Can a LtRPG carry surprises, nestled in the sequence of presentation, just like a novel can use flashback to clarify what was, prior to the flash, a very ambiguous or downright confusing scene? What is meant when such structure conventions are violated? A whole branch of “LitRPG Theory” can grow out of just the considerations of structure and how it informs the piece, just has been done with conventional (and, moreso, experimental) literature.

David Artman  Jan 8th 2009

(Damn, a BIT too long….)

Anyhow, just another nudge–that’s why it’s mostly questions and not a list of rules. There’s more LitCrit tools we can bring to bear, as either measures of a LitRPG’s merits or as guides to creating an effective one (I prefer the latter, but that’s also the only reason I studied LitCrit: to be a better writer, NOT a good critic).

David Artman  Jan 8th 2009

One more note on atonality, in conventional RPG (meaning non-LitRPGs):

We game designers use atonality all the time, but it’s to reinforce STRUCTURE, not theme or intent.

There is the cold and clear, neutral tone of a process or rule statement, highlighting its importance or canonical nature.
Then you get the more authorial and looser sort of writing which is, like, in sidebars or advice chunks or those little “talking head’ icons folks use to say, “Hey, now I’m just talking to you, to let you know what’s going on under the hood here.”
And, yeah verily, there be in-fiction tones that put thee into a mind to portray the shining heroes and scurrilous villains in a way which is meet.

See there? Three tones, each with a functional role in the text, but none of which is intended to layer on nuance of the overall book’s INTENT… because it’s only real “intent” is to teach you to play a game the way the author envisioned it. EVEN IF proper gameplay enables the underlying intent of a game to educate or inspire (think Grey Ranks, here).

But using atonality in a LitRPG would (should? could?) drive at the message, at the theme, at the takeaway of reading the text itself, without ever engaging in whatever “rules” or “procedures” are presented as carriers for that message.

OK, ’nuff for now. Your volley….

TomasHVM  Jan 8th 2009 edited

Baseline writing and what’s left unsaid

Posted By: David Artmanyou’ve got a 1:1000 chance of surviving–that’s not said in the text, that’s left for you to realize. And the realization of the unsaid carries the message and theme and impact.

Clear point, and very good!

I love the idea of readers discovering such content in the text, due to the instructive format. to have a table convey the central point, like in Somalian Children, is something I find very intriguing.

Projecting attitude

Posted By: David Artmanan editorialized voice that shows it’s clearly not meant to be played and, rather, is meant to carry a message or cause a change of thought.

An alternative, yes. Texts with attitude is nothing strange to ordinary literature either, of course.

To write games that are spitting at you, or teasing you to try them, or plainly have a laid-back stance to both you and itself … it is an idea that carries lots of opportunities.


Posted By: David ArtmanDone properly, it can underscore the moments of consistency AND convey a message, via contrasting tone, with the moments of insanity

I like this. It could be very effective in a text dominated by the neutral tone of rules.

As a game text is ordinarily broken up in more or less stand-alone elements, there is no saying how far you can go with this, both in the deconstructive and constructive way …


Posted By: David ArtmanCan a LtRPG carry surprises, nestled in the sequence of presentation, just like a novel can use flashback to clarify what was, prior to the flash, a very ambiguous or downright confusing scene?

I do think so! To play around with the structure in such a text can dig up many hidden effects, I think.

I really love the idea of going for instructions “in medias res”, and then informing about what this is all about. There is vast fields for fruitful misinterpretations here! I love misguided players!

David, I believe you have made a nice overview of the main elements at play in a literary game text. And you have made some very nice and thought-provoking speculations on what kind of tools and effects to be had for the avid writer.

Thanks to your analysis I now feel even more fired up on this idea! A thousand thanks to you for making the effort!

Mind you: I am not equaling this kind of game-texts with role-playing poems. The poems are made to be played. As such they are both interesting in themselves, with their narrow timeframe, and interesting as tools for research by designers. Writing role-playing poems are a great way for designers to test specific game-tools, and a great way for them to test how their writing in general translates into games.

Nov 122008

Copied from and extensively modified in a Story Games forum post.

Roshambo dice in yellow with black ink

Dice similar to the above inspired me to think of a simple storytelling system:

  1. You, as a PC, have three Modus Operandi (MOs):
    1. Resolve, symbolized by Rock, which measures your ability to “grin and bear it” or otherwise bull through a situation.
    2. Manipulation, symbolized by Scissors, which measures you ability to change a situation into something more amenable to you.
    3. Flexibility, symbolized by Paper, which measures your ability to find alternate ways to approach and deal with a situation.
  2. Each MO has two ratings from 1 to 5:
    1. Skill rating determines the maximum number of Success dice you may keep when you roll (see below). Divide nine Skill points between your three MOs.
    2. Flub rating determines the maximum number of Failure dice you must pass to another player when you roll (see below). Divide nine Flub points between your three MOs.
  3. Every character has Aspirations which are accomplished in Stages, via scenes. A given Stage might take several scenes to accomplish, however, based on its complexity or difficulty.
    1. A character’s agenda in a scene is called a goal.
    2. A player may redefine a Stage any time between scenes, with one exception: a failed scene outcome can not become a new or an alternate Stage for the failing character.
    3. It is possible for accomplished Stages to become moot, and an Aspiration to be completely re-planned or abandoned in favor of a new Aspiration.
    4. When an Aspiration is accomplished, the player may revalue all of his or her MOs’ Skill and Flub ratings, up to their original total values for Skill and Flub.
    5. Every two Aspirations that a character accomplishes increases the character’s Skill MO value total by 1 (to 10, then 11, etc).
    6. Every Aspiration that must be completely abandoned increases the character’s Flub MO value total by 1 (to 10, then 11, etc).
  4. When it’s your turn to frame a scene, choose an MO that you will be using to achieve your goal in the scene and roll five Roshambo dice.
    1. Each die result that your MO beats in Roshambo is a Success die. Each die result that beats your MO in Roshambo is a Failure die. Each die result that matches (ties) your MO is a Neutral die.
    2. You may keep as many Success dice as are equal to your MO’s Skill rating.
    3. You must pass all Failure dice, up to your MO’s Flub rating; discard the rest.
    4. Distribute the remaining Success and Neutral dice evenly—you choose who gets any extras, if they are not evenly divisible.
    5. Each distributed die may be used in one of three ways, on another player’s turn, by that player:
      1. Discard the die to introduce one’s own character into the scene, state one’s own goal (which may not be identical to nor a simple negation of your goal), and roll the appropriate MO… with one restriction: Each MO may be invoked—by any character—only once per scene. So if you started with Resolve, the next player may only introduce him- or herself and state goals using Manipulation or Flexibility (and the following player introducing a character into the scene may only invoke the remaining MO). As such, a passed die is not usable for self-introduction after the third character introduction into a scene. Finally, do the above die-distributing Steps IV.A-D for this new character in the scene.
      2. Use a Failure or Neutral die to narrate a Complication against you—something which opposes your goal—while taking into account the MO of the die result (Resolve, Manipulation, or Flexibility) not the original player’s rolled MO.
      3. Use a Success or Neutral die to narrate a way past (bypass) an existing Complication, taking into account the MO of the die result (Resolve, Manipulation, or Flexibility) not the original player’s rolled MO.
  5. Narrate the scene flow, using all dice in play:
    1. You narrate one of the Success die results still in your possession, taking into account the MO that you used to make your roll (not the Success die result). This is the Opening Volley, which should establish your stakes and line of “attack.” If you have no Success dice, then you are relying upon someone to narrate a Success for you (Step V.B below).
    2. Starting with the player to your left (i.e. clockwise), each player may use a passed die as explained above in Steps IV.E.1-3.
    3. Continue clockwise, introducing players, narrating a(dditional) Complication(s), or narrating a Complication resolution.
    4. If your Successes (and others’ passed dice used as Successes) run out while there is at least one Complication still to be resolved, then you have been Thwarted: narrate how the unresolved Complication(s) brings you low and your plans to ruin.
    5. If you resolve all Complications (i.e. others are out of passed dice or choose not to use them for Complications) then you succeed in your aims and may make a last narration of that result (even if you are actually out of Successes, having used the last one up to bypass the last Complication).
    6. Any additional Successes may be used to narrate follow-on bonuses or accomplishments or boons, as related to your goal in the scene. This could result in a whole Stage being completed during one wildly successful scene.
    7. All remaining players whose characters are in the scene continue to use their dice (rolled and passed, for or against each other) until they have resolved their stakes one way or the other. The cycles of this entire Step V can become convoluted in two- or three-way conflicts; just keep cycling clockwise, offering each player a chance to Complicate or bypass (or self-introduce) until the scene resolves itself (or the dice resolve it, by running out!)
  6. Whenever your character is in a scene, you may Burn one point of a Skill MO (reduce that MO’s Skill rating by one) to narrate a Success for your agenda, taking into account the MO Burned. This reduction in MO does not affect the number of Successes that you may keep, because that distribution (Steps IV.A-D) happens prior to any Complication and, thus, prior to any reason to Burn.
Jul 172008
Download a print-ready version

An RPG that simulates roguelike game play, but using player empowerment, resource allocation, bidding, and instantiation to create the “random” adventuring zones for a single PC.

©Copyright 2008, David Carle Artman, david artman designs; all rights reserved.

Ralph Mazza & Mike Holmes – Tokens as narrative currency; Objections.
D. Vincent Baker – Freeform, flexible Trait dice.
Eric Provost – Freeform Zone creation.
Rogue, NetHack, ToME – Inspiration.
David Cherryholmes – General discussion and idea development.
“JoyWriter” – Helping me to the insight of using hidden bidding for Device instantiation.


There is no GM, only players.

Determine who will be the player that will control the Adventurer and that will create the Adventurer’s Talents and Gear.

All other players are the Opposition: they create Zones—dungeons, forests, temple chambers, castles—and create and portray Obstacles—monsters, traps, environs, and puzzles in Zones.

In essence, ASCII @HACK! is a competitive game between the Adventurer player and the Opposition player(s). Furthermore, the Opposition players are in competition with each other to be the one whose Obstacle finally kills the Adventurer. As such, there will be times when the Opposition players actively resist each other (or, at the least, do not cooperate in supporting each other) in order to hold off Adventurer death until their own Obstacle can be brought to bear.


Prior to actual play, the players must get together the tools they will use in play (Tokens and dice) and must create the game world.


Each player receives 20 Tokens to start the game.

These Tokens represent quanta of narrative control to instantiate Elements: Talents, Gear, Obstacles, and Zones.

The physical representation of Tokens may be coins, poker chips, glass beads, pebbles, or whatever other small, common object fits the tone and mood of the game world (or whatever is available).

World Elements


To begin play, each player—starting with the Adventurer—spends one Token to state an Element about the World.

A World Element could any one of these:

  • State the genre of the setting: fantasy, sci fi, western.
  • State something about the tone of the game: humorous, serious, doomed.
  • Set standards for the group’s interaction at the table: forbidding out-of-game chatter, no cell phones, no profanity.


If another player objects to a proposed Element—or to anything declared throughout play (for example, an invoked Trait)—that player must pay a Token to oppose the Token spent by the player that is stating the Element.

If the stating player really wants the Element, then that player must choose a number of Tokens, hide them in his or her right hand, then put them forward.

Without any further communication or coordination, all other players do the same with their own Tokens, hiding a chosen number in one hand and putting it forward (one may choose to put forward no Tokens).

  • If a player puts forward Tokens in his or her right hand, those Tokens are counted in favor of the stated Element.
  • If a player puts forward Tokens in his or her left hand, those Tokens are counted against the stated Element.

All players simultaneously reveal their hidden Tokens; the side with the most total Tokens wins the vote, with a tie going to the player that is stating the new Element (or invoking the Trait).

All paid and bid Tokens are lost by all players.

This hidden-bid process forms the core conflict mechanic of the entire game; all inter-player conflicts over narration are resolved with this process.


Players continue to take turns stating Elements until they either run out of Tokens or no longer wish to provide World Elements.

Each player keeps any of his or her leftover Tokens after all players have finished stating World Elements.

Power Level

The players determine how many Tokens are refreshed after the Adventurer completes a Zone, using this chart:

Power Level Adventurer Refresh / Escalation Bonus Opposition
Escalation Bonus
Low 3 / +1 10/# of Opposition Players +3 total
Medium 5 / +3 15/# of Opposition Players +5 total
High 10 / +5 30/# of Opposition Players +10 total

A low power level will result in a game with minimal Adventurer advancement and will require significant Opposition coordination to provide a challenge to the Adventurer.

A high power level will result in a more powerful Adventurer that’s strapped with great Gear and will free up Opposition to work at odds with each other, should they so desire.

Home Prep

Every Adventurer has a Home, which could be a town, the local lord’s castle, a monastery, or even a crashed spacecraft.

Whatever form the Home takes, it is a safe area in which the Adventurer may buy Gear or train Talents, with one restriction: Gear that is acquired at Home may never have a die value greater than d8.

Adventurer Prep

Refresh the Adventurer player with the agreed-upon number of Tokens.

The Adventurer player then spends as many Tokens as desired, to instantiate Talents or Gear and assign them a die value according to these costs:

Talent/Environ Cost Gear/Trap Cost Die Value Probabilities
1 1 d4 25% Success
25% Failure
2 2 d6 50% Success
17% Failure
4 3 d8 63% Success
13% Failure
8 5 d10 70% Success
10% Failure
16 8 d12 75% Success
08% Failure
32 13 d20 80% Success
05% Failure

Note that, because the Adventurer begins the game at Home, no starting Gear may have a die value greater than d8.

Talents are anything which in inherent to the Adventurer. Appropriate Talents include, but are not limited to, these types of Elements:

  • Archery, melee, wizardry
  • Nimble, strong, wise
  • Aimed shot, disarm, fire blast

Gear is anything which the Adventurer carries that provides efficacy (not to be confused with Consumables below). Appropriate Gear includes, but is not limited to, these types of Elements:

  • Fine bow, broadsword, quarterstaff
  • Leather jerkin, chain shirt, enchanted robes
  • Poison, potions of strength, manna stones

The die value of Talents or Gear will generally indicate its magnitude or quality, though it ultimately will always come down to the roll.

Inventory Limits

The Adventurer may never carry more than ten pieces of Gear.

Any time that the Adventurer is at Home, it may put Gear in the Home Bank and it may get Gear from that Home Bank.


Consumables comes in two forms: Sustenance and Illumination. Set two, different-colored d20 dice to 20, one for Sustenance and one for Illumination.

Every time the Adventurer enters a new Zone, reduce the Sustenance die by 1. If the Sustenance die reaches 0 then, every time the Adventurer enters a new Zone, the Adventurer player must choose one Talent die to reduce by a single die rank (i.e. a d8 becomes a d6).

Every time the Adventurer enters a new Zone, if any of the Opposition players spends a Token, that Zone requires Illumination: reduce the Illumination die by 1. If the Illumination die reaches 0 then, every time the Adventurer enters a new Zone in which an Opposition player has spent a Token to require Illumination, the Adventurer treats all Talent or Gear as if it is d4.

The Consumable dice can increase during play, for various reasons and by various means (see Exploration below).


Escalation represents going to “lower levels” of a “dungeon” or generally ramping up the challenge level to reach the end game.

Set a d10 to 1 and give it to the Adventurer player.

Whenever the Adventurer begins to exit a Zone, its player may elect to Escalate. The player increments the Escalation die and hands it to the Opposition; and the Adventurer’s Refresh increases by the amount indicated by the power level of the game.

When the Opposition has the Escalation die, they also may elect to Escalate whenever the Adventurer begins to exit a Zone. As above, they increment the die and hand it back to the Adventurer; and the Opposition’s Refresh increases by the amount indicated by the power level of the game.

Zone Creation

First Zone

The Adventurer player always gets to declare the nature of the first Zone that he or she is going to explore (but not its Obstacles). The Opposition is encouraged, during Home creation, to suggest some “local troubles” or other hooks to help the Adventurer player choose a style of Zone which everyone will enjoy creating and engaging. The first Zone is, basically, a signal to the rest of the players as to what kind of exploration or conflicts will interest the Adventurer player.

Quest Zones

Whenever the Adventurer is at Home, the Adventurer player may create a Quest, which is a special Zone (or series of Zones) in which the Adventurer player is able to define part of the Zone and Obstacles.

Every Quest has the same basic Goal: the Adventurer will visit every Zone and will defeat every Obstacle that its player defines in the Quest. No additional Zones or Obstacles that the Opposition adds to the Quest are required, though they could provide complications or barriers to completing the Quest Goal. If the Opposition adds to or increases the Traits or Gear of the Obstacles that the Adventurer player created, then the Adventurer still must visit every Zone and defeat all of those Obstacles. Quests which begin as trivial runs can be made into much tougher, long-term grinds.

Every two Tokens that the Adventurer player spends to establish an Illumination requirement for the Zone(s) or to create Obstacles in the Zone(s) is worth a single Token when the Adventurer returns Home after completing the Quest (in addition to whatever Tokens the Adventurer earns for surmounting Obstacles during the Quest). For example, if the Adventurer player spends 15 Tokens defining a Quest, when the Adventurer returns Home after completing the Quest, its player receives 8 Tokens.

Thus, the Adventurer player is able to dictate aspects of the encounters for a Quest in exchange for what amounts to a savings for the Opposition, who can then use Tokens to increase the difficulty or expand the nature of the Obstacles.


After the First Zone, the Opposition takes the reins and provides all further Obstacles (except those the Adventurer player defines in Quest Zones):


Created exactly like the Adventurer, monsters can be anything the Opposition imagines as an active entity trying to harm the Adventurer. See “Combat,” below, for details about how to resolve encounters with Monsters.


A trap is a Trait applied to the Zone itself, but whose dice can only be rolled if the Adventurer takes an action which triggers the trap; basically, a passive entity which will only harm the Adventurer under certain conditions.

The Opposition spends Tokens to both define the effects of the trap and the triggers: the effectiveness of the trap costs the same as if it were Adventurer Gear; and each trigger costs 1 Token.

When triggered (i.e. the Adventurer interacts with the Trap trigger), the Trap gets its die (or dice) and immediately rolls against the Adventurer, as in “Combat” below. The Trap, however, does not continue to fight like a Monster would; it can only be triggered by the Adventurer player’s narration of interaction with it.

To remove a Trap, the Adventurer player must invoke appropriate Talent and Gear dice and get enough net Successes to reduce the Trap’s die (or dice) to d4, at which point it is neutralized and the trigger may be used as normal in Exploration (see below).


Environs are a special case of traps which, basically, are considered to be automatically triggered upon entering the Zone. As such, the detrimental nature of the environ costs the same as if it were an Adventurer Talent.

Each Environ effect is only activated once per Zone entry, but they are activated every time the Adventurer enters the Zone. Normally, Environ effects can not be disabled, though a particularly clever use of Elements could remove them (with no Objections, of course).


A puzzle can come in two forms: a simple puzzle is a cost in Tokens for the Adventurer to pass into the next Zone; a logic puzzle is devised by the Opposition and provides Tokens to the Adventurer if solved, the amount of which is negotiated between all players after the logic puzzle is revealed.

A simple puzzle costs 1 Token per Token cost to bypass it; a logic puzzle costs nothing, but the Adventurer may ignore it with no penalties.


The Opposition describes what the Adventurer sees upon entering the Zone, taking into account Illumination (i.e. if it is required and whether the Illumination die is at 0). This description can be embellished with all manner of detail, but only that which is bought with Tokens will have any mechanical effect.


The last step for the Opposition is to determine how many exits there are from the Zone.

The exits may have colorful descriptions or might just be branching paths in a maze; and it is common for each Zone to have a logical flow to its exits (and next Zones).

A Zone always has one exit (its entrance), barring some nefarious trap. The Adventurer may create an exit by spending 1 Token and narrating how his Talents and Gear would help to generate a new path to (an)other Zone(s) (e.g. Pickaxe d10 or Find Secrets d12). Each approved invocation of an Element earns the Adventurer its dice; every roll of 4 or higher on those dice creates a new Exit. The Opposition and Adventurer then bid Tokens to declare into which Zone the exit opens: either a new Zone or a specific previous one. High bid wins and ties go to the Adventurer (as is always true, after World Element creation).

Returning Home

To return Home, the Adventurer must move through any intervening Zones. Note that a Zone that was “clear” the last time it was visited might have all-new Obstacles in place, awaiting a staggering and desperate Adventurer (i.e. if the Opposition decides to spend Tokens).

As stated above, Home is a place to safely buy, rather than “find,” Gear (up to d8 only) or train Talents.

Home provides a further significant benefit to the Adventurer: Tokens that the Adventurer bids to increase the Consumables dice are worth triple their value, as compared to Opposition Tokens. It’s just-plain easier to find lamp oil and good eats at Home.


Once an Adventurer has entered a Zone and it has been described, exploration begins.

The Adventurer player can begin to declare Elements (usually beneficial) that exist in the Zone, and where he or she finds them amongst the features described by the Opposition (often, this is a Trap trigger). If the Adventurer player narrates finding something useful, it’s the same as if he or she bought it as Gear during creation or at Home (but with no d8 limit).

Additionally, the Adventurer player may choose to increase the Sustenance or Illumination die by any amount that he or she wants; the amount must stated prior to changing the Consumables dice, and any Objection leads to a hidden bid (as always).

Further, the Adventurer player may pay one Token to find a Device—an item of Gear which would not logically get a die rank because it represents a non-quantitative effect. For example, the Adventurer might pay one Token for a “Scroll of Recall”—a Device which returns the Adventurer to Home without having to travel through the intervening Zones. As with World Creation, should any other player Object, that player pays a Token to start a hidden bid.

Of course, if there is a monster, it is very likely to attack the Adventurer long before he or she would have a chance to find any Gear, which means that the action in the Zone starts not with exploration but with….


Combat with a monster is broken up into rounds, during which range is set, Talents and Gear are invoked, and dice are rolled to see which side of the exchange wins the round.


Combat begins at Far range, which permits the use of ranged Talents and Gear without penalty. Close-combat Talents, obviously, may not be invoked if at Far range.

To change ranges from Far to Near cost 1 Token, and vice versa. This change can happen repeatedly at the start of a given round (i.e. setting range does not use the usual bidding resolution).

Once everyone agrees to a particular range for the round (by not spending any more Tokens to change it), then that is the range until after the resolution roll (the Pitch, below).


The Adventurer and whichever Opposition player is portraying the monster then take turns invoking Traits appropriate to the conflict, environs, Illumination, and any extenuating narrative circumstances.

If the Adventurer or monster tries to invoke ranged Talents or Gear at Near range, they are worth half their die value, rounded to the nearest whole die value (e.g. a d10 or d6 becomes a d4). Note that, because a “d2” could not ever roll a 4, d4 ranged Talents and Gear are useless at Near range.

Each side also may buy Stunt dice with Tokens, which costs a third of what they would cost if bought as Adventurer Gear (minimum of 1 Token). Stunt die invocation should be narrated during the course of other invocations, though it could also be a coup de grace move or a parting shot depending upon the circumstances of the narration up to this point. Once rolled, Stunt dice are lost forever (unlike Talents and Gear, which are only lost by die type reductions; see below).

If any player disagrees with an invocation, that player may Object by spending a Token. If the invoking player wants to insist on the invocation then that player must spend a Token, which then starts the normal hidden-bid resolution process (ties go to the Adventurer, as always).


Finally, both sides roll all of their invoked dice. Every roll equal to or greater than 4 counts as a Success for that side. Every roll equal to 1 is a Failure, which reduces the number of Successes for that side by one. You can have zero or negative Successes, if the number of 1 rolls equals or exceeds the number of 4+ rolls.

The difference between the number of Successes for each side determines these two things:

  • How many of the loser’s Trait or Gear dice that the winner may reduce, one die rank from one Element per Success.
  • The loser, who gets to narrate the resulting reductions in a manner which engages the invoked Talents, Gear, and Stunts of each side.

Note that this does mean that one side could have more Successes than it rolled, if the other side had negative Successes. For example, suppose that the Adventurer rolls 5 Successes with no Failures and that the monster rolls 2 Success and 4 Failures. The Adventurer then has (5 – (2 – 4)) = (5 – (-2)) = (5 + 2) = 7 Successes.


If one side of the conflict no longer has any Traits over d4, it is Dead. If it is the Adventurer… good game; try again. If it is the monster then it may now be used in the Exploration stage to provide narrative justification for new Gear or for increasing the Sustenance or Illumination dice. Also, the Adventurer receives half the Tokens (rounded up) that the Opposition spent to create the monster’s Traits and Gear.

If both sides still have Traits then the combat continues, unless one side Escapes.

To Escape, that side has to bid Tokens, which might be opposed by the other side: start by spending 1 Token, then proceed to a hidden bid if the other side spends 1 Token.

If the side trying to Escape wins the hidden bid, it relocates to a Zone connected to the current Zone. If it is a monster then, every time the Adventurer enters a new Zone, one of its Traits (but not Gear) is restored by one die rank, up to its original starting rank.


As the Adventurer exits a Zone, all players receive refresh Tokens equal to the value determined by the chosen Power Level for the game.

Note that the Opposition is not refreshed during World Creation or prior to or during the first Zone; this is the minor mechanical edge with which the Adventurer begins play.


As Tokens pile up on the side of the Opposition, the Adventurer is going to want to upgrade his or her Talent die ranks or add new Talents or Gear.

Within a Zone, the Adventurer may spend Tokens to restore Traits or Gear (“healing” or “repairing” them much like gaining new Gear through exploration). A piece of Gear, however, may never exceed its original starting rank, unless it is narrated in some way that delights everyone in the game. Traits may be upgraded at will.

To restore or increase the rank of Gear or Traits, spend Tokens equal to the difference in prices between the two die ranks (e.g. to restore or increase a Talent from d8 to d10 costs 2 Tokens).

Adventurer Victory

When the Escalation die reaches 10, the very next Zone is the Final Zone. As such, the Adventurer player should spend all Tokens possible, only holding back a few for Stunts.

Similarly, the Opposition should spend every remaining Token on the Final Zones Obstacles; it is traditional for one of those to be some kind of “final boss monster.” Because there is no exit from the Final Zone (other than the entrance, of course), the Opposition may not create a Puzzle; similarly, because the Adventurer will not do any further Exploration, there is little reason to create Traps. Environs, however, are common and utterly appropriate.

If the Adventurer clears the Final Zone, it and its player has won the game, defeating the Opposition.

Feedback Requests

  1. PLEASE playtest; full name (or handle), front-matter credit to anyone who provides solid feedback (i.e. I can use it or it effects a rule change)
  2. How is the Token economy working out?
    1. Do you find the game better if it is more lethal, like “traditional” roguelike games? Put differently, is it “OK” for the game to kill an Adventurer in, say, five times the amount of time it took to setup the World, Home, and Adventurer (e.g. 10 minutes of setup yielding “only” an hour-long game)?
    2. Should the core rules actually ramp up that ratio? For example: the Refresh starts at Ad5 and Opps15, but the Opps’ increases by 1 every time that the Ad returns Home?
  3. How might I handle “vulnerability” or “scoped” elements, like a Sword of Flames which is more effective against monsters vulnerable to fire?
    1. The only bonus I can imagine is either (a) a die type shift up the chart or (b) a +1 or +2 to the roll on the Gear or Trait’s die. +2 to the roll is VERY big bonus–only a 1 fails!
    2. What should such a bonus cost? It’s some kind of “tag” on the Gear or Trait, which is of limited utility (in fact, the Opposition could just avoid that vulnerability forevermore!), so it shouldn’t cost much. But a die shift can be worth upwards of 16 Tokens (a Trait going from d12 to d20).
    3. Conversely, how much Token savings would an Obstacle enjoy, if it took on a vulnerability? What’s to prevent a ton of “free Tokens” for the Opposition, if they start to define vulnerabilities that are “safe” for the Adventurer’s currently scoped effects?
  4. What didn’t you “get” or what was the one most difficult aspect of play based on the rules as written?