This is episode two of my campaign for Dungeons and Junkiez, the fab folks that I play with every tuesday. You can find my first episode on the site, and all the other campaigns over on Visionaries Global Media! Hope you all enjoy 🙂
(also articles are coming back soon, just been a very weird period at the moment, I’m sure you can all relate)
Pirates Of The Quarantine by Alexander Nakarada | https://www.serpentsoundstudios.com Music promoted by https://www.free-stock-music.com Attribution 4.0 International (CC BY 4.0) https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/
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Welcome to the world of Game Junkiez – my regular dungeons and dragons group that I’ve been playing with for the majority of 2020. They’re the highlight of my year and I look forward to it each week. We’ve been taking it in turns to run campaigns, so everyone gets a turn in the DM’s seat and it is finally my turn! So, grab a drink, stick your headphones on and strap in for a wild ride through The Lonely Vale in my campaign – Into The Waste.
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One of the main problems with tabletop roleplaying games, is that you need a group of friends to play them with. Not only that, but you need all your schedules to line up – which is a herculean task of its own. The more players you have, the more complicated organising a session becomes. Sometimes, you just want to flex your creative muscles without having to go through the hassle of setting up a session with your friends. Single player TTRPGs are where we can get that tabletop fix, which has become more powerful now that we’re all playing remotely.
Would You Search Through The Lonely Earth For Me is a single player, single page TTRPG, that can be played in one sitting or over a long period of time. For example, I completed my first playthrough over the bank holiday weekend in between the various chores that I needed to get done. Finally, a way to make laundry and video rendering interesting! Created by Michael Whelan, video team member at Dicebreaker and Zoe Delahunty-Light, video team member at Eurogamer, all you need to play WYSTTLEFM (not the smoothest of acronyms, I must admit) is something to write on, the rules and a ten sided dice. Easy to set up, easy to play, easy to enjoy.
Playing the game, requires four rolls of the d10. These rolls correspond to four key details that form the framework of each stage of your story:
Where – This column tells you where your journey is taking you e.g. whether you end up on a battlefield or in a museum. Whether you are on the way there or have already reached your destination, is entirely up to you.
Who – Who carried you to this place? Who found you and decided to bring you along for the ride? Did they treat you like a treasure or were you stuffed to the bottom of a bag, to be forgotten?
How Long – For what length of time will you remain in this place? Are you merely stopping by briefly, are you left behind to rust in the darkness until you are unearthed again?
Tone – This defines what you are feeling in this place. Are you hopeful? Are you proud of how far you’ve come?
Let me explain the concept of this TTRPG. You take the role of a precious treasure, that is passed from person to person, location to location, over the course of millennia. The treasure in question is up to you, the only real restrictions being that you cannot affect the world around you – only observe and experience. Regardless of how those who come across you act; you are powerless to do anything about it. It makes for a rather unique experience, as instead of having to think in character about what you *can* do in a situation, you are forced into the role of an observer. Each journal entry tells a tale of its own, as short, or as lengthy as you choose it to be.
This game is something that I recommend you play through on your own, as it is unique for everyone. However, to give you an idea of where your journey can go – I’ll walk you through my very first session. I decided that my treasure would be a golden amulet, like those you see in fantasy stories around the necks of the “totally not related to all-powerful beings” protagonists.
I began in a place of history, brought there by the prophet, abandoned there for an unknowable amount of time, with a crestfallen tone. As vague as the prompts are deliberately phrased, I had a clear vision in my mind of where my story would begin. My amulet lay in the depths of a cavern, near an underground river that flowed to the sea. I’d be thrown out of a bag, onto the dusty stone floor, an offering to a god that never answered prayers.
From there, a scholar uncovered my amulet under the rocks and debris that had built up over the years. Overjoyed at the care and effort that this professor put into rejuvenating the golden surface, my amulet settled into its new home in a museum with great content. Millenia passed and the amulet witnessed the development of the world around it, eventually lying in the possession of a young blacksmith called Corinth, who was forced to work for the war lords that controlled his home.
Travelling from the iron forges to the cusp of a war, my amulet witnessed the downfall of empires and the massacres of the battlefield, terrified that it’d be lost to the bloodshed that surrounded it. The chaos of the battlefield was a stark contrast to the collector’s basement that it spent the next few years in, forever cursed to watch every other precious object be prized and adored by him, but not the amulet. Eventually, the amulet was left as an offering to a local miracle worker, by a craftsman who desperately needed a miracle to save her son.
My story came to an end when the wanderer that carried me on her chest, was crushed in a cave in. The rubble tumbled from above and buried us both in an endless pile of boulders and rocks that weighed down on us. Helpless and alone in the darkness, my amulet’s main wish in the end was that the wanderer would be found one day, to give her family closure. It hoped that if found, it would be buried with her, finally at peace and no longer alone.
Despite my journal entries only covering seven pages of A5 paper, I felt that my tale had come to a satisfactory end. I had weaved a tale of a world that grew and changed, with its triumphs and failures. I got to flex that creative muscle that I haven’t gotten to use in a long time. I used to do a lot of creative writing when I was younger, including the summer where I actually took part in NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month), which involved writing a 50,000 word novel in the span of a month. An intense but enjoyable experience.
A lot of my life has been spent weaving stories in my mind, some of which were put down on paper or turned into the worlds that my players now explore in our campaigns. The chance to create my own worlds again, to step back and make something entirely new, has been a real treat. There’s something remarkable about making a game that can create so much from so little and has such massive replayability value, so I tip my hat to Wheels and Zoe, this is a game that I think a lot of people will come back to.
Anyways, I hope everyone is having a good day and I recommend you keep an eye on MindGames’s Twitter this week, especially on the 3rd as I have a pretty cool announcement to make! Keep an eye out for that and be sure to let me know what you want me to talk about next.
As my final term at university passes by, I often sit back
and reflect on how far I’ve come. From admitting I had mental health issues, to
starting medication, to starting Mind Games and preparing to go out into the
world as a fully-fledged adult – it’s been a hell of a journey. A big part of that
process has been the time I have spent with my friends. Since I don’t really
drink and the university clubbing scene is the definition of a panic attack for
me, I tend to stick to sober events. Watching films, playing video games,
chatting with friends and sucking at minigolf, I’ve done it all. My favourite
thing to do though, is play board games with those friends. Especially ones that
stay with you.
I’ve spoken before about Dungeons and Dragons on the site and anyone who follows my Twitter will know that I’m currently running a campaign for some friends. However, the world of tabletop gaming is not just D&D, much to the shock of many. Thanks in part to the afternoons I’ve spent in board game cafes with my friends from school, and to communities like Dicebreaker – I’ve gotten to explore the genre that I love, a bit more deeply. From Dead of Winter and Betrayal at The House on The Hill, to Call of Cthulhu and Band of Blades, there’s a massive range of games out there for you and more are being developed every single day.
One tabletop game that has really hit close to home for me
recently is the horror RPG, Ten Candles. There aren’t many games that can stun
my friends into silence for more than a few seconds, yet Ten Candles manages
it. Every decision that my players made were given an extensive level of
thought, detail and care, before committing to it. Considering these are the
same players that tend to throw fireballs first and ask questions later, it’s
an astounding difference to witness. So, what is Ten Candles? Why am I
committing an entire article to it? Why should you play it? Let me tell you.
Humans have always feared the dark. Though when you delve further into it, it’s more a fear of the unknown. We can cope with what we can see, what we know is there. It’s a quantifiable problem that we can take steps to combat. In the pitch black, you don’t know what’s there, what it’s doing or whether that prickling on the back of your neck is it creeping ever closer. Ten Candles is played mostly in the dark. Once you finish creating the characters you will tell the story with, you turn off any lights in the room. Your only illumination is by the ten candles sat in the centre of the table.
The sky has gone dark. No sun, no satellites, no phones or GPS. Power grids have failed across the continents and the world you know has been plunged into darkness. Creatures known only as “They”, stalk the shadows, cutting down the last remnants of humanity as you struggle to survive in this post-apocalyptic world. “They” will claim your life in the end. That much is certain. Ten Candles isn’t about survival or “winning”. It’s a game about loss and hope, about finding light in the darkness and making your last moments of living worthwhile.
There aren’t any overly complex rules or time-consuming preparations to make in order to enjoy Ten Candles. All you really need are candles, paper, pens, some regular dice (6-sided) and something to dispose of/burn the paper slips in. Time is marked by the extinguishing of candles. For each failed conflict (dictated by dice rolls), a candle is darkened. If you don’t fail any conflicts, a candle will go out eventually. The end comes for us all, eventually. When you have one final candle left, the Last Stand begins. This is the final scene of the game in which every character will die. It’s inevitable.
Once every character has perished, the final candle is blown
out. You sit, in complete darkness and listen to a recording your players recorded
as their characters at the start of the game. Their voices, speaking words of
hope and sorrow, are haunting, especially with their death scene ringing in
their ears. When the recording ends, you all sit there in the darkness – lost in
your own thoughts and reflecting on the dark journey they will have taken over
the past few hours.
Before the lights go out and the game begins, you must create your characters. Characters are made up of five characteristics – Virtues (positive trait), Vices (negative trait), Concepts (who are you), Moments and Brinks. Your Virtue, Vices and Brinks are made by the players either side of you – allowing totally unique characters to be made in every session. Your Concept and your Moment are entirely your choice. A Moment is a scenario in which your character can find hope. Be that reuniting with a lost family member, taking down one of “Them” or finding somewhere safe to stay the night, these Moments provide you with another dice in the Last Stand – increasing your chances of achieving something significant in your final moments.
Brinks are a bit different. A brink is what your character
is like when pushed to the edge. What do they do when faced with loss or grief?
Do they fly into a rage? Were they a murderer before this all began? The
possibilities are endless. As the players decide the Brink for the person on
their left, this means that the GM is also involved. The GM plays as “Them”,
and they have seen one of the players at their breaking point. This means the
players Brink is kept secret. Meanwhile the player to the right of the GM gets
to decide what form “They” take in the session. Do they worship the moon? Do
they shapeshift? Do they mimic voices? What powers do they have?
This story is not a happy one. It is a joint tale of hope, desperation, fear and co-operation in the darkness. Although the GM is there to lead the story, they are not in control of everything that happens. Sometimes, it is up to the players to narrate what happens. Everyone at the table works together to weave a story they deem worthy of telling. Their interactions, their moments of hope and loss, their eventual deaths – they all must have meaning and weight behind them. At the end of the world, you are what will be the difference between the light and the darkness.
If you can, I’d suggest playing this yourself. You can get a
PDF of the rulebook or a paper-copy from cavalrygames.com to support the
creator Stephen Dewey – a very talented developer. It is an experience that I
feel will stay with you for a long time and bring your friends closer together.
When you finish secondary school, one of the main fears you
have is that you won’t be able to cope with the drastic changes it forces upon
you. In the UK, you are required by law to remain in some form of education or
training until the age of 18. After that, you are deemed an adult by society
and mostly left to your own devices, except when bill payments and the tax man
come around. That’s a lot of pressure to put on a young person, especially
considering you’ve been asking them to make decisions that could impact the
rest of their lives, with little to no life experience to back up those choices.
The other big fear is that you will lose all the friends that you made. For many, they were what kept you going in tough times, provided a shoulder to lean on and a place of safety when everyone else seemed out to get you. They want you to succeed and you want only the best for them. Which often means, you must let them chase their dreams, even if you don’t get to see them for a long time. In the case of my friends from school, I only really see them about twice a year. So, the little time I do spend with them, is very important to us all. How do we spend that time? Simple. We spend an afternoon at a board game café, messing around, catching up and claiming to be the princess when in fact we are an evil cat (it makes sense in context, I swear).
It was at our usual place that I came across what is one of
my favourite board games now, Betrayal at The House on The Hill. To start, the
players choose a character from the selection – such as a demonic little girl,
a headstrong jock or a mad scientist. As a team, you explore the house –
building it from a pile of tiles and discovering the secrets that lie within.
From sinister whispers to a literal madman, each room you uncover leads you
closer and closer to the main event. Some tiles have an omen symbol on them.
Whenever an omen is triggered, you must roll to see if the “Haunt” begins.
Up until the Haunt, you are all on the same side. Exploring the house, helping one another, discovering the truth as chaos unfolds around you. However, when the Haunt begins, there’s no real way to tell what is going to happen next. With 50 scenarios in the standard game and dozens more in the expansions, no one playthrough of the game is the same. The type of Haunt you experience depends on what room you are in and what omen last occurred, so there are a ridiculous number of combinations to choose from.
The Haunt is where the “betrayal” part of the game’s title
comes into play. Depending on the scenario, one of you has turned to the dark
side. That player must take the traitor’s tome and read the scenario’s instructions,
in private, such that the remaining players are kept in the dark. The rest of
the group reads their copy of the scenario, which explains what they need to do
in order to survive and escape the house alive. This ranges from performing a séance
to put a spirit’s weary soul to rest, to taking down a seemingly immortal axe
murderer that is trying to axe them a few too many questions.
It’s a fascinating dynamic, as the game actively encourages you to work together. So, when the traitor reveals themselves and the ghouls of the house start to wreak havoc, it’s jarring and unnerving. I’ve known my group of friends from secondary school for nearly a decade now, so to say we know one another quite well is a bit of an understatement. Yet, when we play Betrayal, we often see a darker side of our normally kind-hearted friends.
I’ll give you an example. In one round, we played in teams
of two, pairing the experienced players with the newcomers. As there were only
three new players and five experienced ones, it meant that my close friend and
I ended up on the same team – such that the two gamers weren’t given any advantages!
However, when the Haunt was triggered, we became the traitor. Our character had
discovered an ancient sarcophagus in the house and had to reunite him with his
loved one – reincarnated in the body of a little girl we had rescued from
another room in the house. When reunited with one another, they’d become so
powerful that the leaders of the world would bow before them instantly. The
world would burn and be remade in their image. The others wanted to stop it.
However, the problem with one of your own team turning on you, is that you are intimately aware of one another’s strengths and weaknesses. There’s a sense of familiarity and trust that is shattered when the players who protected you earlier in the game, are now the one’s holding the knife at the end of an unlit hallway. One of the other pairs had the most intelligent character and had the highest chance of thwarting our plan. So, we chased them down and killed them. It was a ruthless act, but it ended up winning us the game (that and the fact the others kept failing the elevator roll and taking damage from it).
More than anything, I think the reason
that betrayal appeals to me so strongly, is that it hints at the darkness in humanity.
Sure, zombies and vampires can be terrifying but, in our minds, we know that
they aren’t real. The true horror of psychopaths and traitors is that they
could be us. For all we know, they could have been stood where we are standing
only a few months ago. Human psychology is as fascinating as it is terrifying.
We often surprise ourselves with what we are truly capable of, and not always
in a good way. So many crime dramas have the least suspicious person turn out
to be the killer.
As a core principle, I believe that everyone is inherently good. I do not see the point in anger or cruelty or hate. To me, it feels like needless aggression that takes a toll on all involved parties – be they active participants or merely observers. The sad thing is that these good people can be swayed, manipulated and led astray – to believe in twisted causes and harmful world views, to betray those they care about. Which is why games that have you think from the villain’s mindset, are always intriguing.
Anyways, that’s my two cents on a
very fun board game. There are expansion packs and a D&D inspired version
of the game so if you’re interested, go find it! I highly recommend it, especially
as a late-night bonding experience for a small group.
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