at last — some gaming on the horizon!

Hooray!

The last few months have been crazy, between finishing up my M.A. in Music History (finally), buying/moving into a new home in a new town, and getting ready to embark on a three-week vacation to Spain, Morocco, and Portugal.  Sadly but not surprisingly, I haven’t had any time for gaming during this time, so it’s nice to know that once we get back from vacation, I’ll have some gaming opportunities lined up and ready.

I’m definitely looking forward to rolling some dice with BB again.  Our adventure using his d6 Fantasy homebrew was interrupted by real life, so it’ll be good to get back to that and then maybe revisit some of our other games — Iron Trail B/X, BoL Pike Shotte & Sorcerie, Star Wars d6, maybe even some Mongoose Traveller… Who knows?  Whatever system/setting we end up playing, it will be fun as usual.

The other opportunity was only recently discovered.  Last Saturday, when trading in some old paperbacks at Ink Spell Books in Half Moon Bay (just a few blocks from our new digs), an innocuous inquiry about stocking RPG books led to a conversation with the proprietress that very naturally led to me volunteering to organize and run some kind of semi-regular D&D/RPG event in the store’s sitting area.  She seemed very enthusiastic about my proposal, and we agreed to discuss the matter further when I get back from vacation.  Should this idea take off, be assured that more virtual ink will be spilled here on the subject…

Gaming Soundtrack: Nunatak-Teimo-Permafrost

If you’re one of the 5 people who regularly read this blog, you’re probably already aware that when it comes to dungeon delving, I generally prefer ambient music at the table — the darker/creepier the better — and when I post something in the “gaming soundtrack” it’s inevitably an album or artist that falls into that category.  That said, I’d like to share with you my new appreciation for the music of Thomas Köner, a German ambient composer and multimedia artist perhaps best known for an early-1990s trilogy of albums now considered classics of electronic drone music: Nunatak Gongamur (1990), Teimo (1992), and Permafrost (1993).  These three albums were re-released in 2010 as a box set, which is good news for those of us who want physical versions but weren’t able to get our hands on the original CD imports…

I first learned of Nunatak Gongamur in an early-2000s magazine article on drone music (possibly in the short-lived Grooves?), and the experimentally-minded percussionist in me was captivated by the idea that the entire album was created from electronically-transformed/manipulated gong sounds!  I found the mp3s online, enjoyed the album for a while, and then moved on to other things.  Fast-forward to this year, when I randomly revisited Nunatak and Teimo… WOW!  Are these some dungeon crawling atmospheric sounds or what?!!!

Many reviews of Köner’s work that I’ve read inevitably use adjectives like icy, cold, bleak, lonely, etc.  His titles and artwork often suggest images of frozen northern landscapes, but the sense of otherworldly isolation invoked by the soundscapes is just as appropriate for dungeon crawling.  After all, what could be more isolating than exploring the dark depths of an alien underworld that is quite often hostile to human life?  As is common in the ambient genre, the tracks on each album flow smoothly from one to the next, eliminating any potential disruptions of the sinister, eerie dungeon atmosphere at the table.

I’m not yet familiar with TK’s later albums, but I highly recommend checking out his early trilogy.  Enjoy!

Karlheinz Stockhausen on dungeon design

Sort of, at least.  Remember the prediction I made in my last post about my brain making connections between Stockhausen’s score for Mikrophonie I and dungeon design?  I’ve only scratched the surface of my analysis of the piece, but the connections started to form almost immediately.  Here’s a snippet from a 1965 introduction to the piece by Stockhausen himself:

“The score consists of 33 independent musical structures, which are to be combined by the musicians for a performance according to a specified connection scheme.  This scheme indicates the relationship between the structures.  The relationships between these structures is determined in each case by three elements: the following structure should, in relationship to the one that precedes it, be similar, different, or opposite; a relationship should remain constant, increase, or decrease; the following structure (which in fact generally begins during the preceding one)) should support, remain neutral to, or destroy the preceding one.  Thus in each case the connection scheme gives three indications for each pair of adjacent structures; for example, similar should support in a constant manner, or opposite should destroy increasingly, or different should remain neutral decreasingly, and so on.  The musicians thus choose the order of the composed structures — which were themselves also composed in a similar way — according to these predetermined criteria.  Although the relationships between the structures, in other word the connection scheme, always remain the same for every performance in order to ensure a strict and directional form, the versions of the order of the structures can be completely different from one another.”

Mikrophonie I is an example of Moment Form, in which the various musical events are composed as discrete units or “Moments”(each, according to Stockhausen, “recognizable by a personal and unmistakable character”) and then arranged together to form the larger work.  Mikrophonie I is one of several of Stockhausen’s Moment Form works that does not have a fixed order to the Moments.  Instead, the piece’s performers individually rehearse and evaluate the 33 Moments and put them in order according to the unusual “connection scheme” mentioned above.

So what is the equivalent of a Moment in dungeon design?  A room?  An “encounter area” within a level, such as a kobold lair or Chaos temple?  A full dungeon level or sub-level? I suppose it could be any of these, providing it has the “personal and unmistakable character” to differentiate it from the adjacent Moments.  One of my experimental goals for my new Dungeon project is to apply Moment form techniques to its planning and design.  My normal procedure for dungeon design has been to draw a map first and then populate it.  I may have a theme or partial layout in mind ahead of time, but oftentimes the map drawing is largely random (for better or worse) and subject to later revision.  This time, I’m going to work backwards…  For the upper levels of my Dungeon, I am going to work on the assumption that Moments are encounter areas or sub-levels.  These Moments can be generated through brainstorming or extrapolating from random table results. For example:

• Level B (Monastery Basement): Cellar, Crypt I/Ossuary
• Level 1 (Dungeon proper): Crypt II, Tunnels of the Rat Lord, the Brewery (Cellar II), Kobold Warren, The Covered Well (shaft to level 3, giant spiders), Bandit cave (near alternate entrance), etc.
• Level 2: Crypt III/Evil Priest, Goblin Mines I, Giant Cave Spider Nest, Troll Bridge, Moon Pool, etc.

Each Moment is stocked and mapped on its own, as one might prepare a One-Page Dungeon, keeping in mind that connecting passages must be added later.  Once the Moments are completed, how then to best determine their placement on the map without the benefit of a correspondence scheme like that in Mikrophonie I?  Intuition suggests laying them out in a way that makes sense logically (or maybe dramatically?), but the thought occurs to me that one could create a “correspondence scheme” for a random dungeon by creating a proto-map of a number of squares equal to the number of Moments, laid out in the desired shape.  For each line/side shared by two squares, roll 1d3 for each of the three relationship axes (see below.)

1. Corresponding ( = ) / Different ( * ) / opposite ( # )
My first thought is that this refers to the general relationship between the “alignments” or natures of the Moments; this could include proper Alignment (for creatures), potential danger, or other factors.  The kobolds and ratlings on Level 1 would be corresponding ( = ) since they are both Chaotic humanoids.  Although the Covered Well and the Brewery are both  non-threatening Dungeon features, the Moments are different ( * ) because the room containing the Covered Well has giant spiders in it — definitely more dangerous!

2. Supporting (+) / Neutral ( | ) / Destroying ( – )
The relationship between Moments.  The kobolds and ratlings may have a mutually beneficial ( +) relationship, there could be bad blood between the two ( – ), or they may be indifferent to one another ( – ).  The goblin shaman on Level 2 might bathe in the Moon Pool to recharge his mojo ( + ), the goblins may be terrified of the strange lights that sometimes flicker in its depths ( – ), or it could just be another water source ( | ).  This relational layer may be more of a stretch for two “features” (i.e. Brewery and Covered Well).  If both are magical, then the nature of the enchantments bestowed by drinking from the magic keg or well could affect one another (sort of like drinking multiple potions) — effects might be doubled ( + ), negated ( – ), or have no effect ( | ).

3. Increasing (^) / Constant ( C ) / Decreasing ( v )
This axis is the most challenging for me to translate to the Dungeon.   This could refer to the power level of Moment A relative to Moment B — which is stronger?  Is one waxing or waning due to the other’s influence?  This kind of breaks down when it is applied to non-inhabitant relationships, but I’ll keep pondering this one…

Whether or not I use random methods or devise my Moments more deliberately, Stockhausen’s three relationship axes can be very helpful when it comes to fleshing out the relationships between various groups and breathing life into the Dungeon as a setting.  I’ll probably post more on this as I play around with “Dungeon Moment Form” some more.

Undoubtedly, much of the conceptual ground I’m covering that’s directly related to dungeon design has been covered by by authors and pundits more experienced or eloquent than me.  They’ve probably also done it in much more direct and efficient ways, but there’s something fun about using avant-garde music composition processes to design my dungeon…  Like I said at the beginning of this post, my brain is making the connections — I’m just running with it!

Any thoughts or suggestions on any of this stuff?

megadungeons & mikrophonie

These are the two items vying for the top spot in my creative process right now.  The former is purely for fun, and the latter is mostly not for fun.

Megadungeons: Lately I’ve been thinking about starting a pick-up Labyrinth Lord game, advertised to all my local friends/neighbors/co-workers who are gamers, as well as those who have expressed even a modicum of interest in D&D.  In the interest of avoiding the sort of scheduling conflicts and absentee player issues that have been the bane of most of my past game groups, the emphasis of this campaign will be upon the (mega)Dungeon.  Whoever shows up gets to play.  PCs enter the Dungeon at the beginning of the session and come out at the end of the session.  More on the Dungeon, the Base, and the Wilderness in future posts.

Mikrophonie: Specifically, Mikrophonie I (for tam-tam, 2 microphones, and electronics), the 1964 live-electronic work by Karlheinz Stockhausen.  I’m analyzing this piece for my music history M.A. exit exam.  I’m sure that at some point, my brain will attempt to make connections between the piece’s graphic score and dungeon mapping.  Here’s an image of a score page to give you an idea, sorry for the small size:

 

 

 

Stockhausen is one of the giants of electronic music history, and Mikrophonie I was one of several “live electronic” pieces of the 1960s that proved to be extremely influential on some of the artists and albums featured in my occasional “Music for Dungeon Crawling” posts.  I’ve never used Mikrophonie I itself as dungeon-crawling music, but as I listen to it this morning, I can imagine that players might be pretty freaked out by it…

Here’s some awesome footage from a 1966 performance of the piece by Stockhausen and his ensemble (Stockhausen is seated, controlling the electronic filters):

happy gaming (and everything else) in 2013!

I have a pretty poor track record when it comes to keeping new year’s resolutions, but that never keeps me from setting goals for the days and months ahead….

Here are a few gaming-related goals for 2013, in no particular order:

1. Play more with the gaming friends I already have!

2. Expand my gaming circle. I can think of at least six people in my limited social circles — work, church, neighbors, etc. — with whom I’ve had reciprocally enthusiastic conversations about RPGs, but haven’t actually sat down and played.

3. Follow through on RPG writing/research projects. I’m involved in two right now: Carpathia, a Hammer Horror-inspired Victorian monster hunting expansion for Barbarians of Lemuria, and a library research/resource guide for D&D (for folks interested in RPG history, ludology, etc.)

4. Revive the Library Game, whether it’s as an occasional volunteer thing at a local public library branch or getting a lunchtime dungeon crawl going at work. This probably won’t happen until summer due to other schedule commitments, but it’s something that’s been lurking in the corner of my mind for a while.

That’s all for now. Happy new year everyone!

Dicey Tales #2 is here!

Happy belated Thanksgiving to everyone!  Back at work after a pleasant week of vacation, split between Mendocino and Modesto — quite a combo, eh?

I meant to post this announcement a couple weeks back, but better late than never: Dicey Tales #2 has finally arrived!

For those not in the know, Dicey Tales is an irregularly-published serial supplement for two-fisted, pulp-era gaming using the Barbarians of Lemuria engine.  I haven’t had a chance to fully digest the PDF, but it looks very promising — Evil DM Productions put out a winner with the first issue, and I think that Jeff Mejia (the Evil DM in question) and his collaborators have done it again.  Grab the PDF at RPGnow!

[BoL] Pike, Shotte, & Sorcerie session 3: unraveling the mystery/showdown at the ruined church

His business with the magistrate complete for now, Enrico retired to the inn for some celebratory steins of lager and a well-deserved rest.  Unfortunately, his sleep was disturbed by a blood-curdling scream from Katrina’s room next door (not yet ready to travel back to their hometown, she and Herr Schulze were also staying at the inn.)  She awoke screaming from a terrible nightmare, the details of which she shared with Enrico the next morning at breakfast: she was being pursued through a great, dilapidated castle or mansion by a hooded, black-robed figure.  She woke just as her sinister assailant had cornered her and wrapped its skeletal fingers around her throat.  She also remembered that one of the hands wore a ruby ring, finely cut in an octagonal shape.

After breakfast, Enrico visited Magistrate Schmidt and received some distressing news — Rudolf, the bandit captured in the church cellar, had been killed while trying to escape.  The jailer recounted that, during last night’s interrogation/beating, Rudolf’s eyes became engulfed by blackness and, with a burst of superhuman strength, tore loose from his bonds.  In the ensuing struggle, the jailer was slashed with a knife and Rudolf was killed, skewered by several sword thrusts.  Examining the body, Enrico noticed the blacked-out eyeballs and the blackened veins spreading away from the eyes (which gave the face a mask-like appearance.)  Magistrate Schmidt gave his official approval to Enrico’s investigation of the mysterious cult or coven responsible for Katrina’s abduction; with the full moon only days away, Enrico immediately went into action.  To summarize the next two days’ investigations:

• Clara the wise woman and Brother Demetrius independently noted that Rudolf’s symptoms suggested mental domination by a witch or sorcerer, not a demonic possession, and that the power of said domination depended on the power of the sorcerer, the connection/relationship between the sorcerer and subject, and, to a lesser extent, the physical distance between the two.  Brother D. gave Enrico a blessed crucifix as a supernatural protection against this form of domination.
• Several sources spoke of tension and dissatisfaction between the mayor, Burghermeister Hartmann, and Magistrate Schmidt, but nothing that suggested motives for supernatural or physical violence by either party.  During his interview with Hartmann, Enrico noticed that the mayor wore a ruby ring similar to the one described in Katrina’s nightmare.
• Meister Hartmann, a longtime resident of the village, had traveled to the Interior (as the cursed central region of Anderavia is commonly known) in his younger years in search of adventure, and married a woman from a mountain village.  Clara informed Enrico that the young M. Hartmann, the illegitimate son of a minor noble, may have gone in search  of his roots.  The ruby ring was among the treasure he claimed in his adventures and brought back to the village.
• Clara and Brother D. also mentioned that Frau Hartmann is a fortune-teller and professed medium.  When asked about his wife, Meister Hartmann told Enrico that she no longer practices dowsing or clairvoyance due to her weak physical constitution.
• During the night of the first day’s investigation, Enrico is wakened from a dream to see Katrina standing in his room, apparently possessed by sorcery.  Wielding a kitchen knife, she attacked Enrico and managed to lightly wound him before he could bring his blessed crucifix to bear.  Once the holy symbol was revealed, the psychic connection was severed and Katrina collapsed unconscious on the floor.

Keeping his suspicions closely guarded and unvoiced, Enrico decided to roll the dice on a risky plan: He and his group (Hans, Brother D., and three militia volunteers) would pose as bandits and bring a “maiden” (the slender Brother D. in a dress, wig, and hooded cloak) to the church in hopes of drawing the cult and its leader into the open.  When seven robed figures entered the ruined sanctuary, a brief parley quickly devolved into battle.  In the initial chaos, one cultist (the speaker, presumably the leader) dashed out of the sanctuary and took cover in the nave.  Musket and pistol shots rang out on both sides, and the melee fighters quickly closed.  The tide quickly turned in the heroes’ favor as Enrico and Hans joined their blades to the effort; despite their losses, however, the cult was not done yet.  As Enrico ran one cultist through the chest with his saber, he felt a strong hand grasp his ankle — some fell sorcery had animated the corpses of the cultists and militia who had fallen!  Enrico’s band managed to slay the last of the living cultist fighters and, with the aid of Brother D’s prayer of negation, put down the animated corpses.  Their victory was hard won: Brother D. and Hans were both wounded — the latter grievously so — and one of the militiamen was killed.  Enrico raced out after the cult leader, who made a break for the woods when the animated corpses were slain.  Slowed by Enrico’s desperate, lucky pistol shot, the villain met his doom after a short chase.  Clubbed in the head, the cult leader fell and was impaled on a broken tree stump.  The hood was removed to reveal the face of Meister Hartmann, his all-black eyes indicating sorcerous possession.  Brother D., arriving on the scene, touched his blessed crucifix to the dying man’s forehead and dispelled the magical domination.  Confused and in mortal pain, he whispered his wife’s name several times before expiring.

First aid was administered to Hans, litters were prepared for Hans and Hartmann’s corpse.  By the time the party arrived back in the village, dawn was breaking.  Enrico left the mayor’s body with Magister Schmidt and gave the official an accounting of what transpired up at the ruined church.  Enrico and Brother D. then went to pay a visit to Frau Hartmann, but found only an empty house that appeared to have been vacated in a hurry…

***

Now that the village is saved and the cult’s plan is foiled, we’re going to be pausing the PS&S game for a few sessions for a little change of pace.  I’m definitely looking forward to picking up again and seeing where the loose ends lead!  Some other thoughts on the session:

The reanimated cultist corpses (Tough Rabble) were done on the fly, they basically had the same stats (except for Mind, reduced to -2), combat abilities and Lifeblood as when they were alive.  I also completely forgot to roll Terror checks for Enrico and his hirelings when the corpses rose up again, I was too caught up in the action….

I realized later that I’ve overlooked another aspect of black powder gun combat — the obscuring effect of smoke from the fired weapons, especially in enclosed/poorly ventilated areas.  If I had to spot rule something right now, it would probably go something like this: If a black powder gun is fired, all ranged attacks in the vicinity during the following round suffer a -1 penalty for each weapon discharged; for each subsequent round of black powder discharge, an additional -1 (cumulative) penalty [per weapon?] is enforced.  (Depending on the size and ventilation of the space and the number of firearms discharged, prolonged exposure to the smoke itself could prove dangerous as well.)  I don’t want to get too crazy and “realistic” with this, so it’s not going in the rules until I can play around with it a bit more.

The evening’s soundtrack provided further evidence that, as far as I’m concerned, Voice of Eye’s Transmigration is one of the greatest gaming albums ever.  It’s consistently dark, ominous and spooky, without being obtrusive or distracting, great for sustaining the atmosphere and mood.