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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….
Copied from and extensively modified in a Story Games forum post.
Dice similar to the above inspired me to think of a simple storytelling system:
- You, as a PC, have three Modus Operandi (MOs):
- Resolve, symbolized by Rock, which measures your ability to “grin and bear it” or otherwise bull through a situation.
- Manipulation, symbolized by Scissors, which measures you ability to change a situation into something more amenable to you.
- Flexibility, symbolized by Paper, which measures your ability to find alternate ways to approach and deal with a situation.
- Each MO has two ratings from 1 to 5:
- 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.
- 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.
- 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.
- A character’s agenda in a scene is called a goal.
- 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.
- 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.
- 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.
- Every two Aspirations that a character accomplishes increases the character’s Skill MO value total by 1 (to 10, then 11, etc).
- Every Aspiration that must be completely abandoned increases the character’s Flub MO value total by 1 (to 10, then 11, etc).
- 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.
- 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.
- You may keep as many Success dice as are equal to your MO’s Skill rating.
- You must pass all Failure dice, up to your MO’s Flub rating; discard the rest.
- Distribute the remaining Success and Neutral dice evenly—you choose who gets any extras, if they are not evenly divisible.
- Each distributed die may be used in one of three ways, on another player’s turn, by that player:
- 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.
- 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.
- 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.
- Narrate the scene flow, using all dice in play:
- 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).
- 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.
- Continue clockwise, introducing players, narrating a(dditional) Complication(s), or narrating a Complication resolution.
- 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.
- 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).
- 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.
- 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!)
- 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.
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).
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.
The players determine how many Tokens are refreshed after the Adventurer completes a Zone, using this chart:
|Power Level||Adventurer Refresh / Escalation Bonus||Opposition
|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.
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.
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|
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.
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.
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.
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).
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).
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.
- 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)
- How is the Token economy working out?
- 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)?
- 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?
- How might I handle “vulnerability” or “scoped” elements, like a Sword of Flames which is more effective against monsters vulnerable to fire?
- 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!
- 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).
- 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?
- What didn’t you “get” or what was the one most difficult aspect of play based on the rules as written?
Fuck You And Your Affirmation, Hippie!
A too-real game of dysfunctional relationships
A warm-up drill for role playing characters to use for establishing and exploring group dynamics
FYAYAH! is played with a beer bottle, onto which the rules are printed.
- Someone spins the bottle so that it points at another person (i.e. not at himself or herself).
The person at whom it points becomes Mr. Happy Sunshine (HS).
- HS spins the bottle so that it points at another person.
The person at whom it points becomes The Drunken Man In The Corner (DM).
FYAYAH! is played as a series of turn cycles, which can continue indefinitely.
- HS says the best, most positive true thing(s) that he or she can say about DM.
- DM says the worst, most negative true thing(s) that he or she can say about HS.
- HS, heartbroken, becomes the next DM and spins the bottle so that it points at another person (i.e. not the current HS or DM).
The person at whom it points becomes the next HS.
- Return to Step 1. Repeat until catharsis ensues or everyone realizes that no one’s perfect.
FYAYAH! was originally conceived by Gilbert Kraag and Bolla Pinnsvin as two separate games. Its current, cynical combination and refinement is by David Carle Artman.
FYAYAH! is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 License.
a game of addiction, abuse, desperation, and redemption
© Copyright 2008, David Carle Artman. All rights reserved.
The Prime Directive – Meguey Baker, Fair Game
Refinement and Editing – David Walker; Rex Edwards;
“Rustin”; Ben Miller; David Donachie; Dave Michael
It was so simple, at first; so exciting and new. Never a problem, really… you get used to the assholes and the users and all of the downsides; and, man, are the upsides SWEET.
You can handle your shit….
For Mature Audiences (FMA) is a role playing game designed for adults. It deals with sensitive and taboo topics surrounding depression, sexuality, violence, abuse, addiction, and pain. As such, it is not recommended for persons under the age of 18. Neither the author nor anyone involved with FMA accepts responsibility for outcomes of play, the feelings of players, or resultant fallout. You have been warned. Put the book down now… it’s for the best.
No? Then buckle up. Don’t be afraid, your friends are with you. They care, and they will not abandon you….
The Prime Directive
The Number One rule of FMA is best-summarized by the phrase “I Will Not Abandon You.” Originally coined by Meguey Baker (see sidebar), it is one approach to serious, difficult role playing; its opposite is “Nobody Gets Hurt.” In FMA, you will get hurt. If you don’t feel angst, sadness, frustration, anger, or emotional distress then you have missed the point of play. This game is about finding those touchstones in you, the actual player, and exploring them to reach a deeper understanding of your actual life, through the lens of a fictional one.
But you will not be abandoned by your fellow players. This rule is inviolate, and those players who eschew it should be invited to leave the game. Then forced to do so. You must play FMA with people in front of whom you feel safe to break down, and who will be ready with comfort and understanding when that happens. Even when things become so intense that everyone needs a break for a few moments, no one is left to suffer such a break alone—even during an intermission, you will not be abandoned.
“More Alphabet Soup,” Meguey Baker, 2006
“I will not abandon you” does not equal “nobody gets hurt.”
In “I will not abandon you” (IWNAY) game play, the social agreements are:
- I as a player expect to get my buttons pushed; and I will not abandon you, my fellow players, when that happens. I will remain present and engaged and play through the issue.
- I as a player expect to push buttons; and I will not abandon you, my fellow players, when you react. I will remain present and engaged as you play through the issue.
In “nobody gets hurt” (NGH) game play, the social agreement is that we know where each other’s lines are, and we agree not to cross them.
Both are reciprocal systems. If one person is pushing buttons and the other is supposed to just take it and not respond, then the button pusher is a bully and the relationship is abusive. Notice I’m not talking about the characters, here. This is all about the players at the table. In any game. I bet I could get just as hurt playing White Wolf or GURPS as I could playing Dogs in the Vineyard or Sorcerer.
It sure helps to be clear which kind of social contract is expected: If the players are not all clear, sooner or later you’ll run into a NGH player in a IWNAY game, and they will get hurt, sometimes in a big way. If you get a IWNAY player in a NGH game, that player will wind up transgressing other people’s boundaries and coming off like a jerk. That player may also feel like everyone else is pulling their punches.
Good NGH play: Jill has a hard line at kids-in-danger; Robin could make the victim a child, but doesn’t.
Bad NGH play: Jill has a hard line at kids-in-danger, and Robin makes the victim a child anyway. Robin’s obnoxious and Jill may stop playing—Robin has broken NGH.
Good IWNAY play: Jill has a hard line at kids-in-danger. Robin makes the victim a child, maybe even on purpose to push Jill’s buttons. Jill reacts but stays with it, Robin stays engaged, Jill gets to examine something about her issues with kids in danger.
Bad IWNAY play: Jill has a hard line at kids-in-danger. Robin makes the victim a child, maybe even on purpose to push Jill’s buttons. Jill bails out—either by actually leaving the game or by disengaging from it. Jill has broken IWNAY.
Bad IWNAY play: Jill has a hard line at kids-in-danger. Robin makes the victim a child, maybe even on purpose to push Jill’s buttons. Jill reacts but stays with it, but Robin can’t deal with Jill’s reaction, so Robin bails out—either by actually leaving the game or by disengaging from it. Robin has broken IWNAY.
There is a design part to this. When a game has solid support for handling highly intense emotional scenes (which are most-likely to trigger players, I suspect and in my experience), the tendency for the game to require IWNAY play (in order to be successful) is high. Here I think of DitV, Sorcerer, and to some extent Bacchanal. I mean mechanical support for getting into and out of emotionally charged conflict, and solid writing that lets the players understand the reasons why they might allow themselves to be pushed emotionally. This is where the designer gets to say “This can create heavy stuff. I know that. I’m prepared for that. Here’s where I’ve thought about it and how I recommend you handle it my game.” This is the designer saying I will not abandon you; I will give you mechanics to help deal with this when it comes up, I’m with you in this.
As should be obvious, this game is not for casual play with strangers or with passing associates. You won’t be playing FMA at a local gaming convention, unless you can find a very trusting group and a private space. Your fellow players must push you to your limits and beyond… and then be standing there, firm, to hold you up when you begin to fall. In doing so, they will become closer to you than you might ever have expected. Or you might lose them as friends forever, if you or they forget The Prime Directive of FMA.
Do not abandon your fellow players.
What Is Role Playing?
If you have to ask this question, please put this book down and find something more appropriate for your experience level. This advice is for your own protection. Inexperienced role players are far more likely to misconstrue the motives of their fellow players, interpret attacks on their issues as attacks on themselves, or abandon their fellow players when the going gets too tough. Conversely, an experienced role player can balance on the fine line that FMA asks you to walk between self-analysis and character embodiment. You are—and you are not—your character in FMA; and being flexible enough to flip modes when necessary is a learned skill that few possess intuitively.
The toy box was a calm, quiet place. Sure, the kid would occasionally dig you out and poke and prod and puppeteer you; but that was Before, when you were blissfully unaware, insensate. Then, on a dark night when the kid was at some sleepover… or in Daddy’s bed again… he showed up, bearing blood and the spike and gleeful enmity.
Oh, it hurt, that spike; it seemed to bore into your very soul and pin you like a butterfly removed too soon from the killing jar.
Being alive hurts a hell of a lot more….
[Image no longer available per artist’s request]
The Tooth Dealer, with a ready source of life’s blood for the spike.
In FMA, you take on the role either of the Tooth Dealer (known as a Game Master in other games) or of a Plushie: a character in the story that you will craft with your fellow players, which in the game fiction is a living doll or plush toy. Before you laugh, realize that your new life—or maybe unlife is a better word—is agony. You aren’t the first to awaken, probably won’t be the last. And the others want. They want everything you can give; they want to see you shriek—in joy or pain, no matter—and feed on your new-found, barely controlled emotions.
Basic game play occurs in discrete, sometimes-disconnected scenes; and control over the story and interactions with other characters is almost completely in the hands of the Plushie players. The Tooth Dealer’s primary responsibilities are to ensure that The Prime Directive is enforced and to administer Damage… but you’ll learn about Damage soon enough. More than you’d care to know, in fact.
In general, narrative control rotates around the group in turns; but once a game is well underway, turn order often takes a backseat to the direction in which the group is driving the story. At no time, however, should a Plushie be left out of more than two consecutive scenes—no one should be allowed to get off that easily—and the Tooth Dealer will take control of turn order if such marginalization (or shirking) occurs. In a way, enforcement of turn order is a literal interpretation of The Prime Directive.
The game has several end conditions, or none at all. The choice that the group will make emerges in play. Some groups might find that a handful of scenes is all that they need—or have time for, or can endure—while others might enjoy ongoing play, evolution of characters, and divergent story arcs. As such, FMA has no “final scene” or “climax” that doesn’t come about during actual play. You and your fellow players will know when you’ve had enough….
Welcome, young one, welcome! Glad you could make it to the Night Party—we’re gonna do it up RIGHT to-NIGHT! Here, let me help you out of that confining coat—who dressed you, the kid? S’alright, s’alright, we’ll get you fixed up good, soon enough.
FMA differs from other role playing games in that it does not use many of the usual trappings: dice, paper, miniatures, maps. Rather, it takes a very crafty approach—pun intended.
To prepare to play a Plushie character, simply go to a store, a fair, or your sewing room and acquire a plush toy, doll, teddy bear, or similar plaything. You are encouraged to minimize the cost of this Plushie, because game play will likely ruin it as a cute and cuddly familiar… it will become a stark reminder of bad times, if it is not virtually destroyed during play.
The one rule of Plushies is that they must be made primarily of fabric: no plastic or ceramic torsos, limbs, or heads; and no vinyl or leather coverings.
Your choice of Plushie should reflect the general mood that you want for your character… when it is introduced. That mood is doomed, but it should be obvious to all at the start of the game. Often, that mood will contrast the issue or issues that you plan to address; or the basic appearance of the Plushie can symbolize an idealized or archetypal representation of yourself or of your best aspects.
The only other equipment that Plushie players need to begin play is a pair of unique, disconnected (i.e. not fixed-circular) knitting needles and a bold, permanent marker, like a Sharpie or a Magic Marker. Your knitting needles should be distinguishable from every other player’s needles, so you should favor unusual colors or use patterns of tape bands to make a unique “signature.” The color of the permanent marker is irrelevant, but you might choose a color that matches your Plushie’s eyes or that contrasts your Plushie’s skin or fur color. Getting the picture, yet?
Oh… and odds are good that a couple of handkerchiefs or a box of tissues would not go unused.
The Tooth Dealer has to bring very little to play. It is generally a passive role, until it becomes necessary to enforce the social contract and rules of play. But it is also a creative role, full of opportunities for improvisation and inspiration. The Tooth Dealer at times is called on to take the roles of characters other than the players’ (called “non-Plushie characters;” NPCs) or to reinforce the narration of other players with setting details and background information. As an NPC, the Tooth Dealer is tasked with pushing players’ issues just as much as other players are; and the Tooth Dealer will never abandon—nor allow another player to abandon—any other player.
And the Tooth Dealer has one, key duty to perform, at times. That duty requires a crochet hook. A nice, fat one….
Mmmmm… feel it flow into you. Life! The stuff of Life! So what if it comes from the kid’s sugar-gobbling maw? That’s the Tooth Dealer’s stock-in-trade, after all; he’s handled hundreds of ’em, will handle hundreds more before God or the Devil or whoever holds his soul comes to collect.
No, all you care about is the new rush, your new-found high.
Your lifetime high, as you’ll soon learn….
The Tooth Dealer gleefully injects life into Alice’s dolly.
Once the players have gathered for a game session—ALL players must be present; it’s key to establishing Plushie relationships—the Tooth Dealer will ask each player one or more of the following, intentionally provoking questions:
- What’s your favorite bad or immoral or illegal thing to do?
- What situation will ALWAYS make you resort to violence?
- What group or class of people are you certain are inferior to you?
- When do you revel in others’ pain?
- Whom would you kill without hesitation or reservation?
- What situation would make you take your own life?
- A lifetime supply of…?
You are expected to answer as yourself, the actual person playing, not as some imaginary character. (But see Conclusion, below, for a way to play which could lead you to answer as “just a character.”) The Tooth Dealer should not try to lead you or shape your responses; rather, the Tooth Dealer’s questions should force you to directly address the issue that you most want to confront during play.
After you have answered the Tooth Dealer, he or she will propose your First Scar. A Scar has two parts: the mark and the meaning. The Tooth Dealer will discuss what he or she thinks your Scar means and will propose a way to draw on your Plushie with a marker, to designate the location of the Scar. The Tooth Dealer does not have the final say in this matter; it’s your issue to address, and you may approach it boldly or obliquely, as suits your needs. Thus, feel free to suggest a different First Scar, if the Tooth Dealer asks far too much for starters. But don’t be too much of a pussy about it.
Either you or the Tooth Dealer may draw the Scar mark on the Plushie; but at no time should you write down the meaning. It will change, evolve, sicken, or swell over the course of play, even as your mark might change with new Scars adjacent to it. At this point—if you haven’t done so already—you must name your Plushie. Consider your First Scar, your responses to the Tooth Dealer’s prying questions, and your private goals for playing FMA. Some Plushies will start with cutsie, childish names; others will jump right in with ominous names that foreshadow the pain to come.
After every Plushie has received its First Scar, the Tooth Dealer will ask each Plushie player to declare his or her First Contact—which other Plushie in the game is the one that he or she first came to know, be it a mere exchange of names or an established relationship? Don’t take things too far, don’t write out some complex intrigues with other Plushies; let those emerge in play. Right now, you are just looking to hook into the “Plushie Community” under the bed, so that you are not floundering for evocative introductory scenes once actual play begins. And besides… betrayal and abuse are right around the corner; no sense entangling yourself too much with these other dysfunctional, pathetic souls.
If they’d JUST leave you alone for a while, you could get a handle on this shit. Just a quiet corner of the toy box, just you and your needle and time to think.
But no, the party never stops, the dances never end, there’s always more to snort or shoot, and they can’t wait until you’re fucked up enough to get your clothes off and… well….
As explained in the Overview, FMA is played as a series of scenes, usually introduced by a Plushie player, in turn order. But it is not a hogde-podge, willy-nilly sequence of establishing location, introducing whomever, and dictating how each participant behaves and reacts. No, this is where the Needles come into play.
To initiate a scene, you must have at least one of your Needles free (at the start of the game both are free, of course; but that might not be the case later in the game). Take that Needle and Spike one of your Scars: literally drive the Needle through your Plushie’s fabric skin or fur, through the Scar mark. This Needle, and the depth to which you drive it, represents how that Scar is driving your actions and reactions in the impending scene. A shallow prick indicates that your Scar is merely suggested in the coming scene, an element of mood or tone hovering over what is to come. A firm Spiking that drives the Needle completely through your Plushie indicates that the Scar is paramount in the scene: the Scar’s meaning is going to be squarely in the foreground, your Plushie probably will be indulging as the scene opens… or fighting not to indulge.
If you have another free Needle, you can introduce another Plushie into the scene in one of three ways:
- You Spike one of its Scars, with similar connotations for that Plushie as if you Spiked your own Scar.
- You Spike an Unscarred spot on the Plushie, which is an attack on that Plushie, intended to Scar it further.
- You ask the Tooth Dealer to invent a character for your use in the scene (an NPC). The Tooth Dealer has exclusive control over the creation and play of the NPC through this scene and future scenes.
Based on how you’ve used your Needles to Spike your or another’s Plushie, you narrate the “opening shot” of the scene, and then you MUST say a line of dialog that the other Plushie simply could not ignore, shrug off, or dismiss. This is called a Volley, and it is the end of scene framing.
[Image no longer available per artist’s request]
The teddy bear Droog has Spiked Boop, but good.
Note that you may open a scene solo, if you don’t or can’t Spike another Plushie. In such a situation, your opening statement could be a brief monologue or a description of your actions, either of which ends scene framing.
When it is your turn, you must begin a scene, even if you have no free Needles to Spike yourself. In such a situation, the Tooth Dealer must consider the three-way clusterfuck into which you’ve Stuck yourself, and may Spike you with a “virtual Needle” (no knitting needle required, in practice) in an Unscarred location. You won’t like what that means.
At this point, play begins in earnest as the scene is extended, other characters are introduced and exit, and Scarring or Damage—or the ever-rare Healing—occurs.
Oh, who have we here? Yes, I remember you… that party last week, right? So, how are things? Uh… sure, OK, I’ll try. What…? But why not here? It’s more fun here. Um… OK, sure, I guess. Lead on….
There is no formal process for playing and extending scenes. The Volley or opening dialog will lead you to your next line of dialog or reaction, which will lead to further exchanges. A scene could play out totally solo; it could be a conflict between two Spiked Plushies; or other Plushies could come and go, possibly choosing to Spike Plushies that are already in the scene, if willing and able. And it ends when it Feels Right… or Far-Too-Wrong.
Should another player want to bring his or her Plushie into a framed scene, the player must have a free Needle and must Spike one of the Plushies that is already in the scene. Note that the player need not Spike his or her own Plushie, because the scene has already begun. However, as with beginning a scene, the player must make a Volley; and its target must respond. This exchange needn’t necessarily be hostile; but the Volley must be something that the target can’t ignore, shrug off, or dismiss.
[Image no longer available per artist’s request]
Forrest nervously regards Boop’s new-found source of a rush.
Should a player whose Plushie is in a scene want to make an exit, the player need only remove all Needles from his Plushie, returning them to their owners while narrating something that his or her character does or says to extricate itself from the situation. This process is by no means simple, however: each extraction opens the Plushie up to Scarring and Damage.
Exiting is primarily a way to bring closure to a scene and let the spotlight move off of your character. It is also, however, a way to back off of a painful situation, to gain some perspective and return stronger… or even Heal. Such a retreat should not be an abandonment of your fellow players; you stay engaged, and you let them stay engaged, and you all prepare to reap the whirlwind later.
Should no Plushie wish to risk an extraction to exit the scene, the scene ends with Stuck Needles (see below).
Scarring and Damaging Plushies
If a player whose Needle is being extracted doesn’t agree with or like the proposed exit, that player may declare a new Scar or Damage on the exiting Plushie. This is often done when someone narrates a retreat from the scene to lick wounds—think of it as a “parting shot.” But it can also be done to a Plushie that makes a “righteous” or “victorious” exit—think of it then as a future threat or a challenge left unresolved.
If the Needle Spiked a previously Unscarred portion of the Plushie then the Needling player may declare a new Scar, subject to the approval of the Tooth Dealer—but not subject to the approval of the Spiked Plushie’s player! The new Scar should extend existing Scars or reflect the player’s answers to the character-creation questions. The Tooth Dealer’s role as approver ensures that new Scar don’t come out of left field, forcing the player to deal with “issues” that they don’t really have and, thus, could not engage.
Conversely, if the Needle Spiked an existing Scar then Damage is the inevitable result, and the Tooth Dealer gets out his Hook. Though the Tooth Dealer is the instrument (or, rather, his Hook is) it is always the case that the Plushie that is doing the Damage is to blame for the results.
The goal of the Tooth Dealer is to viciously drive the Hook into the Needled Scar and yank out as much Plushie stuffing as is possible with one pull. No matter which Plushie, no matter who did the Spiking: the Tooth Dealer is getting his payback for the life granted to the Plushies… and payback’s a bitch.
Because of the imprecision of the Hook, however, the stuffing ripped out could be just a bit of fluff, or it could wither a Plushie’s entire limb… or head. The player of the Damaged Plushie must narrate what this Damage means, as appropriate to the scene progression and the manner in which he or she tried to exit. No two instances of Damage will be alike, except in the way in which they rend and deform the Plushie. And as should be obvious, there’s no provision for re-stuffing a withered Plushie—life is hard, suffering leaves its mark, and all that we can be sure of in life… or unlife… is death.
It is important to note that Forrest could have counter-Spiked Droog during that scene, to spread around the pain of exiting (if Edward had a free Needle). Perhaps Edward could have leveraged Droog’s “Sex Deviant” Scar to narrate an accusation that Droog can only control Boop with drugs, not with his presumed sexual prowess. Then, when he exits the scene, Droog is left to deal with that Spike until he attempts an exit; or he may leave it Stuck, to do its damage in a later scene.
So now that you’re ripped up a bit, you want out, right? If the Plushie who started a scene exits, its player may extract his or her own Needle with no penalties. You’re used to your habits; only others can make them hurt….
A scene usually doesn’t end until all Needles from other players are extracted from all Plushies in the scene. Yes, this means that Scars and Damage are almost guaranteed with each scene—it’s a nasty world full of broken toys.
However, if a scene simply must end at a certain point, because all participants feel it’s well-rounded or has reached a clear conclusion without commensurate extractions, then the Needles are Stuck. Any future scenes that begin with or introduce a Plushie with Stuck Needles will automatically begin with or introduce the Plushies of those players who own the Needles. In a sense, the previous, unresolved scene has forged a bond or a persistent relationship (or a grudge) between the Plushies; and only through a painful extraction will they be free to move alone in the world.
Like a new dawn, a spring rain… all your thoughts clear of pain… however did you live that life… whyever did you face such strife…?
Not every scene in FMA results in Scars, Damage, and tattered Plushies. It is possible that, through the course of narration and dialog, an epiphany can occur or a long-hidden pain can be exposed and purged.
A player may ask that a given Scar be Healed, if the scene progression or story-arc resolution warrants it. The player must make a formal, out-of-scene proposal to the Tooth Dealer and to the other players. Only though a unanimous decision by all players can a Scar be Healed—your fellow players aren’t there to make the game “easy” or “light;” and yet they will not abandon you, when you truly believe that it’s time that you grew. Never forget that FMA is primarily about guided self-healing. The group MUST recognize the real, actual player epiphany to approve of Healing—this is when they reinforce the personal insights that brought you to this point in play… and in your life.
In game-play terms, a Scar is Healed when the group ratifies the proposal. For ongoing play with the same Plushie, you must patch over the Healed Scar in some manner, be it an iron-on decal or a sewn-on patch or even a patch that perfectly matches your Plushie’s skin or fur. You may not, however, re-stuff your Plushie when patching over a Healed Scar; you can never completely Heal the Damage done, and you probably wouldn’t want to do so anyway—what if you forget and fall back down the rabbit hole?
Check that fucker out: Droog the bear has been played a time or two before the session shown in the artwork above; one might wonder what horrors he has Healed in the past, that he is nevertheless still such a vicious bastard….
You made it… this time. Next time, who knows? The Needles always make new marks; there’s always another monster under the bed; you’re never really safe enough to turn your back on the darkness. Sit back and smoke your last cigarette….
FMA is not a “fun” game, though it can be rewarding. Neither is it a “light” game, if played to the hilt; it is supposed to push you, the player, further than you are willing to go and then bring you back, shaken but not broken, to more-solid ground. If you want it to do so, FMA can put a mirror before your heart and soul and show you things about which you may not want to know, but of which you are best not left ignorant.
That’s not to say, however, that FMA can never be a light, fun game full of humor… albeit dark humor. The group’s choice of Plushies and starting Scars can lighten the mood considerably, sending signals to each other that this game or session is going to be less gut-wrenching. It is best to discuss such a change of tack with the group prior to play; otherwise, a real-life conflict can ensue as you find yourself playing at cross-purposes. Yet, even such “incoherent” play can be successful and rewarding, if you always follow The Prime Directive—even if you are playing “just a character,” it is very likely that another player will push you when you weren’t expecting it. Take it, stay engaged, learn something about yourself… and then push right back! After all, that bastard’s playing “just a character,” too, right?
Be safe, play unsafe, and do not abandon each other.
|A barnyard sport simulation|
|Icehouse stashes:||2 Treehouse sets: 1 Rainbow and 1 Xeno (or 3 matched sets)|
|Other equipment:||A 5×9 grid (a chessboard is suitable; see below)|
|Setup time:||3 minutes|
|Playing time:||10–30 minutes|
|Theme:||A whimsical chicken roundup with overly enthusiastic spectators|
|Created in November, 2007|
There are three basic problems, annotated next to the rules (below) which attempt to resolve them:
- The Stall Problem (S)
- The Roll-Off Problem (R)
- The Blockade Problem (B)
- A tied roll can always be used to move a Chicken, even if it is captured.(S)
- A larger family member may tackle smaller opposing family members, pushing them to an adjacent orthogonal square.(S)
- High-roller (or tied-rollers) must use all movement points, even if that requires uncapping a Chicken. If the highest roll results in no possible moves, then the high-roller must move Spectators instead of family members (but not Chickens).(S,B)
- Both sides may use their rolls, high-roller moving first. In ties, previous low-roller moves Spectators or Chickens first, then previous high-roller moves Spectators or Chickens.(R)
- During a roll, low-roller moves Spectators or Chickens first, then high-roller moves his or her family members. Ties resolve the same as current (previous low-roller moves only Spectators or Chickens, previous high-roller does nothing).(R,B)
- In a tie, both players may move Spectators or Chickens (previous lowest roller moves first).(B)
- A family member or Spectator may trample same-size-or-smaller pyramids.(B)
The folks down in Looney Hollow ain’t famous for their culture, which is most evident when one notes their favorite sport: chasing down chickens. People come from all around the Hollow to watch when two families challenge each other to a Chicken Run. The only problem is that the spectators are usually so unruly and fanatical that they feel obliged to join in the game.
Be the first player to capture (put a pyramid on top of) two chickens with family members of the same size as the captured chickens, while dodging and trampling (moving over top of) unruly spectators and opposing family members.
Two Treehouse sets: one of the Rainbow spectrum, one of the Xeno spectrum (or three matched sets, with an alternate setup).
Any 5×9 grid of squares. A chessboard works fine, if one player is willing to have his or her pyramids start on the border (i.e. off the squares), in “imaginary” squares.
Set the board between the players so that the five-square-wide sides face each player.
Give each player a d6 (ideally, use a d6 that matches the color that the player will be playing).
Use the white opaque pyramids to build one nest (the large on top of the medium on top of the small), and use the black opaque pyramids to build another nest. Each player takes his or her color nest and sets it on the center square of the edge of the board that is nearest to him or her. The pyramids in this nest comprise the player’s family.
Place the yellow chickens upright in the center of the board, and place the spectators upright along the edge of the board, as shown:
|Chicken Run board setup: Rainbow and Xeno sets|
Note: The colors that you use for the spectators do not matter; but the placement of the large, medium, and small pyramids does matter.
If you have three matched Rainbow (or Xeno) sets, this is an alternate way to setup the board:
|Chicken Run board setup: three matched sets|
Determine who will go first.
Chicken Run is comprised of rounds during which one of the players will get to move either his or her family or the spectators and chickens. There is, however, a slight twist to the standard turn-based play common to other games.
Beginning A Round
At the start of every round, each player rolls his or her d6. One of three outcomes is possible:
- Black’s result is higher than White’s result – This round is Black’s round to act.
- White’s result is higher than Black’s result – This round is White’s round to act.
- The results are identical values – This round is the round to act for whichever player least recently had a round to act (i.e. if Black acted on the previous round, then White gets this round to act; and vice versa).
Note: If the results are identical on the first round of the game, roll again.
Determining What Moves
Those same die-roll results also dictate what pyramids the acting player may move:
- Black’s result is higher than White’s result – Black may only move black pyramids (i.e. his or her own family).
- White’s result is higher than Black’s result – White may only move white pyramids (i.e. his or her own family).
- The results are identical values – Whoever gets to act may only move transparent pyramids (i.e. chickens or spectators).
Once you know whose round it is to act, the result of his or her die roll represents movement points that the player may use to move pyramids that he or she is allowed to move. Pyramids always move orthogonally—never diagonally—for these movement point costs:
- A small pyramid uses one movement point to move to an adjacent orthogonal square.
- A medium pyramid uses two movement points to move to an adjacent orthogonal square.
- A large pyramid uses three movement points to move to an adjacent orthogonal square.
A player need not use every movement point on his or her turn.
If a pyramid legally moves into an occupied square (see Movement Restrictions) then one of two things has happened:
- The family member is capturing a chicken, if the square is occupied by the chicken that is the same size as the capturing family member.
- The pyramid is trampling the occupying pyramid(s), if the square is occupied by non-chicken pyramids smaller than the moving pyramid.
Note: Capturing a chicken is not like it is in chess or checkers: at no time are pyramids removed from the board. Rather, a capture must be maintained—tying up the family member—until the game ends or until the player who controls that family member decides to release the chicken (move off of a capture), for whatever reason.
There are a few restrictions on how pyramids may move:
- Only the top-most pyramid in a stack may be moved; a captured or currently trampled pyramids may not be moved.
- Family members and chickens may not leave the central 3×9 area (see the yellow lines on the images in the Setup section). A spectator may move freely around the full 5×9 area of the board.
- Spectators may not capture chickens nor trample family members, though they may trample each other.
- Chickens may not trample any other pyramid.
- A family member may not capture (or even trample!) a chicken of a different size.
- A family member must be larger than opposing family member(s) or spectator(s) to trample them (e.g. a large family member may trample a medium and/or small, opposing family member and/or spectator).
The first player to capture two chickens is the winner. For example, if White captures the medium chicken with his or her medium family member and captures the large chicken with his or her large family member, then White wins.
This work is distributed by David Carle Artman under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 License.
|Entered in the Icehouse Game Design Competition, Winter 2008|
|Winner: Martian 12s 2nd: WreckTangle 3rd: Timelock 4th: Chicken Run|
|5th: Timberland 6th: Hunt 7th: Virus Fight 8th: Martian Gunslinger|
|A game of dexterity inspired by billiards, carrom, and marbles|
|Icehouse stashes:||One Treehouse set or Icehouse stash|
|Other equipment:||One token per player, some form of relatively smooth playing surface|
|Setup time:||1–5 minutes|
|Playing time:||5–30 minutes|
|BGG Link:||not ready yet|
|Created in October, 2007|
When particle physicists compete for grant money, they usually do it with proposals and plans. But this time around, a lunatic angel investor has asked you to prove yourself worthy of his full support by competing on a different level: the atomic level. He has gathered the world’s most capable physicists to demonstrate their prowess with a particle accelerator, using it to carefully and precisely chisel off subatomic particles from a huge atom.
Players take turns flicking or sliding a small opaque pyramid (called the smasher) into a cluster of pyramids (called the atom). Each pyramid which is smashed a sufficient distance from the atom scores points equal to its pip count for the player.
One Treehouse set or Icehouse stash (or more, for a truly massive atom to smash).
One token for each player, which can be a stone, poker chip, coin, or whatever is handy.
A relatively smooth playing surface, which may be of any shape or size. One need not use an entire table, but a chessboard is probably too small to be a challenge. A surface about three feet in diameter is ideal.
Set aside the smasher, and then determine who will go first and the order of play.
Put one token for each player in an easily accessible location (called the sink).
Starting with the small pyramids (except for the smasher), give one to each player in reverse order of play. When the smalls run out, immediately switch to mediums, then to larges. This process should ensure that the first players to play have to place fewer and larger pyramids than those who must wait to play, which in turn tends to ensure that the more valuable large pyramids are closer to the center of the atom.
Building the Atom
Starting with the first player, each player places all of his or her pyramids onto the playing surface, flat or upright. Every pyramid that is smaller than the player’s largest pyramid must be placed so that at least one full edge of the pyramid completely touches one or more other pyramids; that pyramid is said to be bonded to the other pyramid(s). Further, the player’s largest pyramid must be bonded to one or more of the pyramids already in the atom (if any). The goal is to create a contiguous cluster of pyramids with few (or no) small gaps between them, when viewed from above.
For example, if a player has only a medium and a large to place, he or she must make one edge of the medium completely touch the large (and/or other pyramids already in the atom, if the player wishes) to bond to it; the large, in turn, must be bonded to one or more of the pyramids already in the atom (again, if any).
The first player to place is encouraged—but not required—to place his or her pyramids in a position equidistant from every edge of the playing surface. Doing so maximizes the challenge of smashing, which extends the length of the game.
Smashing the Atom
On each player’s turn, he or she attempts to separate pyramids from the atom by flicking or sliding the smasher into the atom. Though the player may shoot from any side of the playing surface, the player’s wrist may not cross the edge of the playing surface (which means that the smasher must be placed very near the edge of the surface, of course, before flicking or sliding it). Violation of this wrist rule causes a meltdown (see below).
It is recommended that another player be the assistant for the shooting player by moving to be opposite the shooting player, so that an errant or over-powered smasher can be caught before it heads off the table (or under a lab bench or behind the reactor).
A pyramid is split from the atom if the shooting player can completely circle the pyramid with the smasher in upright position—using only one finger that is touching only the smasher tip—without touching or otherwise disturbing any pyramid on the playing surface. If the player touches any pyramid while trying to circle an allegedly separate pyramid—including the pyramid that he or she is trying to circle—then the player causes a meltdown (see below).
Do not remove and score any pyramids until every pyramid that the player wants to try to circle has been circled without a meltdown. A pyramid that is smashed completely off of the playing surface need not be circled, though it still may not be claimed until all other attempts have been made and no meltdown occurs.
The wrist rule does not apply when the player is trying to circle pyramids. Once the shooting player begins to remove and score successfully circled pyramids, he or she may not try to circle other pyramids later on that same turn.
Every circled pyramid is worth its pip count in points to the player who successfully circles it.
A meltdown occurs when a player violates the wrist rule or tries to circle an allegedly separate pyramid and touches another pyramid (separate or not). A meltdown must be called by another player, and there must be at least one other player who agrees. In a two-player game, be honest and be civil: generally, if a meltdown is called, take it like a stoic physicist should; there will be other grants!
A player that is guilty of a meltdown immediately ends his or her turn, without picking up any pyramids, be they successfully circled or not. The player must take a token from the sink; and on that player’s next turn, he or she returns the token to the sink instead of smashing the atom.
It should be obvious that causing a meltdown is bad for the guilty player, as it results in the effective loss of two turns and (usually) leaves separated pyramids for the next player to try to claim. In general, a player should not try to circle an allegedly separate pyramid unless he or she is nearly guaranteed to avoid a meltdown.
Ending the Game
When all pyramids in the atom have been removed and scored, the player with the most points is the winner. It is traditional for the now-wealthy grant winner to buy a round of beverages for the other players, though all players should agree to this price of victory prior to play.
In the event of a points tie, the player with the most larges wins. Should that be tied, the player with the most mediums wins. Should that also be tied, the player with the large opaque wins, regardless of whether or not that player has the most points, most larges, or most mediums—the lunatic investor likes opacity more than bickering physicists.
This work is distributed by David Carle Artman under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 License.
|Entered in the Icehouse Game Design Competition, Summer 2008|
|Winner: Ambush 2nd: Logger 3rd: Albiorix 4th: Virus_Fight 5th: Atom_Smasher|
|6th: Dog_Eat_Dog & Martian_BattleSpires 8th: Pass_The_Pyramids 9th: T-Minus 10th: Tresurion|