Time for som FUN. B
-
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In Progress Torment on the Shards, Part 36 - Planescape-inspired CYOA
- Thread starter Lithium Flower
- Start date
-
- Tags
- cyoa
B
Pelvis Knot
Cipher
- Joined
- Nov 19, 2010
- Messages
- 891
B
and you better not be an alt of ironyuri
and you better not be an alt of ironyuri
Lithium Flower
Arcane
- Joined
- Nov 29, 2016
- Messages
- 1,832
and you better not be an alt of ironyuri
My writing style is rough and clumsy like the calloused hands of a Ukranian miner so evidently not.
hello friend
Arcane
Well, well, well. Too early to tell, but it could appear as if the Demiurge might be using the collective belief as a weapon to wipe out any powerful challengers on other shards. Perhaps if enough people are utterly convinced that you don't exist, you cease existing. If this thought canonically occurs to us, we'll have to be really fucking careful about being brain-scanned or whatever. *sense intent* won't bring us down, but I'm sure the magi/tech exists.
And B. It's time.
And B. It's time.
Lithium Flower
Arcane
- Joined
- Nov 29, 2016
- Messages
- 1,832
Hello. I have decided to run a new campaign that is a sort of spiritual successor/evolution of the campaign I ran based in this setting. I already have a party of 3 people including our wonderful (hello) friend. I am currently recruiting for players, so if anyone is interested, feel free to shoot me a pm with your availability in terms of date and time. Roleplaying experience a bonus but not necessary. Below is the campaign pitch:
Part 36 - Terrible Idea
"Strider!" Step-There calls out.
Having already stepped outside, you turn and face the manus.
"So..." he says, his hands pulling at his beard, "all's forgiven and forgotten?"
He looks like some lost beast for the few seconds in which you remain silent. Then he offers you his hand. You shake it and ponder how much easier it is to lie with your body than it is with your voice.
Step-There...how foolish must he be to think that your mutual abuse is at an end?
"L-listen," he whispers after letting go of your hand, "I didn't want to bring it up in front of her but I fear you might be the only person I know to notice..."
There is a pause, as if to underline the lesser truth used to hide the greater, unspoken truth.
"Fear's creeping in. You feel it? Of course you do. I get these terrible thoughts...I suppose the ward makes sure of it, anyhow. But listen - have you seen or, well, thought anything queer to do with sewers?"
You just stare at the manus blankly, not daring to speak.
Why not?
"Ah, no matter. It's just that this awful idea has been worming its way in my head as of recent..."
Why must the ward make sure?
"...sewers run right under our feet, dump the waste into the Void....
You shiver, suddenly aware of the wind's chill - sent here by large voidship docking or setting off, perhaps - and fight the urge to snap your head from left to right to search for spies and interlopers. Just now you understand the extent of the sanctuary you've left.
"...what if the same way the waste comes out...th-the Void can get in?
The chill binds you like cold iron chains.
---
Going to the Termitarium is a terrible idea.
Going to the Termitarium in the evening is doubly so.
Going to the Termitarium in the evening as a herald is...
Upon climbing out of the (filthy) worm-station, you emerge within something like a massive, imploded egg. It covers thousands of meters and rises to create thousands more, encasing cracked Badland ground with a tall, geometrically impossible wreath of turns and crevices promising dangerous angles and even more dangerous inhabitants, lit by a myriad of crawling torches and lanterns. Somewhere at the very top, the Termitarium opens rather than collapses into a point where the ward Seneschal's hardhold lies. The near-darkess surrounding you is absolutely crawling with movement as the denizens of the Termitarium travel along all of its gravity-defying surfaces, particularly in this hour when those who work in the Badlands have returned to drink their pay away.
At least that is how it should look like, but to you it is a muddled, shifting blur, lacking depth above all ...and now you profoundly feel, even mourn the absence of an eye. Sudden confusion sends you stumbling - only for a second but long enough for you to practically feel the opportunity this temporary weakness translated to in the minds of those poor and desperate watching. You feel small and weak inside a space so large and impossible that you cannot even consider it...
Much like Whisper felt within that massive cavern in the Cold Shard, as you are now intimately familiar.
Shaking off the neurosis, you quickly scan the moving life around you. You spy groups of teamsters, clumps of gangsters, bent drunks, and wasted poor in the shifting mob. Prior to its absorption this was once a shard of mani and even now the many-armed race represents a healthy majority of the ward's population, although the Termitarium is still a good deal more diverse Ghetto. In addition to the mani you spot many lurks and buzzers, as well as a child of the Demiurge here and there.
How are you su-
A tall hammerite rises out of the ground in front of you, just a few feet away from the stair leading down to the worm station, and nearly knocks you off your feet. He pays you no heed, however, and disappears into the crowd as quickly as he came upon you. Just then you see it: a cavernous hole in the floor you've entirely missed, comfortably person-sized, leading a good six feet down before the passage twists out of sight. So the hammerite simply walked the up the hole thanks to the ward's relativistic gravity.
You also notice a large rock laying in the soil at the rim of the hole, bearing deep scratches just barely recognizable as letters:
"WATERING HOLE"
Quaint. Ah, but what were you...
Right. How are you supposed to find a door at the end of an endless hallway within the chaos of this ward?
1) Ask someone for directions. Preferably someone who won't kill you - perhaps whoever is tending the bar in the literal watering hole at your feet? You will surely have to buy a very expensive drink to get anything out of them, however.
2) Try to find your own way to your destination. Shouldn't be too different from hunting portals, after all - an endless hallway sounds like something that would leave anomalous clues to its presence, like sudden changes in temperature and random currents of wind...or lack thereof.
3) Leave this ward while you can.
4) Do something else - please specify.
Sail across the Astral on an undead whale you turned into a ship. Will objects into existence by tapping into unused energies of creation. Harvest an insanity-inducing rare metal from the hull of an eldritch corpse star.
I propose a sandbox, player-driven adventure in a setting that spiritually succeeds and evolves Torment World. A world in which belief crystallizes into reality and zeal into power...blown up. Blown up in the way of scale - instead of doing missions on a single shard plus one or two on the periphery you will be set loose on all of the Astral and its threats and profits and politics - but also blown up literally, as it takes place after Gods - those powerful beings who have meticulously monopolized the belief of others to empower their rivaling Dominions - have all been annihilated in a terrible war. The result is a setting in which a constellation of broken planes and pieces of a myriad dead Gods is home to a thousand thousand orphaned servants, struggling to find and maintain a new order and meaning in the carcasses of their makers.
The party of PCs could be mercenaries, adventurers, merchants, or any combination thereof that have the freedom to pursue their ends in the astral, where it be conquest or profit or knowledge or dogma. As with most of my games, there will be a backdrop of factional politics and clashes of conflicting agendas in which the players can take sides. In terms of themes, while Torment World was something where I was interested, in exploring the concepts of determinism vs free will, systems of power, and collectivism vs individualism, here I want to see how these same concepts evolve in a post-apocalyptic scenario where the very base foundations of the world have been ripped out and discarded - can one have faith in something that was once alive?
Using the Sundered World supplement for Dungeon World will allow us to collaboratively create a world to a much greater degree than before. Character building in Sundered World is the best I've seen in any World game, while still being low on crunch - each race is a fully featured compendium class in its own right! - with creative and inoffensive fluff including classes tailor-made for this setting (instead of being boring warriors, the Fighter-analogue in Sundered World literally shapes their body into a weapon with the power of belief.)
Looking at weekend availability (Fri-Sun, 8am-8pm EST, ideally Sun)
I propose a sandbox, player-driven adventure in a setting that spiritually succeeds and evolves Torment World. A world in which belief crystallizes into reality and zeal into power...blown up. Blown up in the way of scale - instead of doing missions on a single shard plus one or two on the periphery you will be set loose on all of the Astral and its threats and profits and politics - but also blown up literally, as it takes place after Gods - those powerful beings who have meticulously monopolized the belief of others to empower their rivaling Dominions - have all been annihilated in a terrible war. The result is a setting in which a constellation of broken planes and pieces of a myriad dead Gods is home to a thousand thousand orphaned servants, struggling to find and maintain a new order and meaning in the carcasses of their makers.
The party of PCs could be mercenaries, adventurers, merchants, or any combination thereof that have the freedom to pursue their ends in the astral, where it be conquest or profit or knowledge or dogma. As with most of my games, there will be a backdrop of factional politics and clashes of conflicting agendas in which the players can take sides. In terms of themes, while Torment World was something where I was interested, in exploring the concepts of determinism vs free will, systems of power, and collectivism vs individualism, here I want to see how these same concepts evolve in a post-apocalyptic scenario where the very base foundations of the world have been ripped out and discarded - can one have faith in something that was once alive?
Using the Sundered World supplement for Dungeon World will allow us to collaboratively create a world to a much greater degree than before. Character building in Sundered World is the best I've seen in any World game, while still being low on crunch - each race is a fully featured compendium class in its own right! - with creative and inoffensive fluff including classes tailor-made for this setting (instead of being boring warriors, the Fighter-analogue in Sundered World literally shapes their body into a weapon with the power of belief.)
Looking at weekend availability (Fri-Sun, 8am-8pm EST, ideally Sun)
Part 36 - Terrible Idea
"Strider!" Step-There calls out.
Having already stepped outside, you turn and face the manus.
"So..." he says, his hands pulling at his beard, "all's forgiven and forgotten?"
He looks like some lost beast for the few seconds in which you remain silent. Then he offers you his hand. You shake it and ponder how much easier it is to lie with your body than it is with your voice.
Step-There...how foolish must he be to think that your mutual abuse is at an end?
"L-listen," he whispers after letting go of your hand, "I didn't want to bring it up in front of her but I fear you might be the only person I know to notice..."
There is a pause, as if to underline the lesser truth used to hide the greater, unspoken truth.
"Fear's creeping in. You feel it? Of course you do. I get these terrible thoughts...I suppose the ward makes sure of it, anyhow. But listen - have you seen or, well, thought anything queer to do with sewers?"
You just stare at the manus blankly, not daring to speak.
Why not?
"Ah, no matter. It's just that this awful idea has been worming its way in my head as of recent..."
Why must the ward make sure?
"...sewers run right under our feet, dump the waste into the Void....
You shiver, suddenly aware of the wind's chill - sent here by large voidship docking or setting off, perhaps - and fight the urge to snap your head from left to right to search for spies and interlopers. Just now you understand the extent of the sanctuary you've left.
"...what if the same way the waste comes out...th-the Void can get in?
The chill binds you like cold iron chains.
---
Going to the Termitarium is a terrible idea.
Going to the Termitarium in the evening is doubly so.
Going to the Termitarium in the evening as a herald is...
Upon climbing out of the (filthy) worm-station, you emerge within something like a massive, imploded egg. It covers thousands of meters and rises to create thousands more, encasing cracked Badland ground with a tall, geometrically impossible wreath of turns and crevices promising dangerous angles and even more dangerous inhabitants, lit by a myriad of crawling torches and lanterns. Somewhere at the very top, the Termitarium opens rather than collapses into a point where the ward Seneschal's hardhold lies. The near-darkess surrounding you is absolutely crawling with movement as the denizens of the Termitarium travel along all of its gravity-defying surfaces, particularly in this hour when those who work in the Badlands have returned to drink their pay away.
At least that is how it should look like, but to you it is a muddled, shifting blur, lacking depth above all ...and now you profoundly feel, even mourn the absence of an eye. Sudden confusion sends you stumbling - only for a second but long enough for you to practically feel the opportunity this temporary weakness translated to in the minds of those poor and desperate watching. You feel small and weak inside a space so large and impossible that you cannot even consider it...
Much like Whisper felt within that massive cavern in the Cold Shard, as you are now intimately familiar.
Shaking off the neurosis, you quickly scan the moving life around you. You spy groups of teamsters, clumps of gangsters, bent drunks, and wasted poor in the shifting mob. Prior to its absorption this was once a shard of mani and even now the many-armed race represents a healthy majority of the ward's population, although the Termitarium is still a good deal more diverse Ghetto. In addition to the mani you spot many lurks and buzzers, as well as a child of the Demiurge here and there.
How are you su-
A tall hammerite rises out of the ground in front of you, just a few feet away from the stair leading down to the worm station, and nearly knocks you off your feet. He pays you no heed, however, and disappears into the crowd as quickly as he came upon you. Just then you see it: a cavernous hole in the floor you've entirely missed, comfortably person-sized, leading a good six feet down before the passage twists out of sight. So the hammerite simply walked the up the hole thanks to the ward's relativistic gravity.
You also notice a large rock laying in the soil at the rim of the hole, bearing deep scratches just barely recognizable as letters:
"WATERING HOLE"
Quaint. Ah, but what were you...
Right. How are you supposed to find a door at the end of an endless hallway within the chaos of this ward?
1) Ask someone for directions. Preferably someone who won't kill you - perhaps whoever is tending the bar in the literal watering hole at your feet? You will surely have to buy a very expensive drink to get anything out of them, however.
2) Try to find your own way to your destination. Shouldn't be too different from hunting portals, after all - an endless hallway sounds like something that would leave anomalous clues to its presence, like sudden changes in temperature and random currents of wind...or lack thereof.
3) Leave this ward while you can.
4) Do something else - please specify.
hello friend
Arcane
4) I think this is precisely the sort of situation that calls for one of our belief moves. Find the path we need to take.
Pelvis Knot
Cipher
- Joined
- Nov 19, 2010
- Messages
- 891
I second the proposition
I fourth Hello Friend idea;
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