30 (+) Obnoxious Cultural Traits

There's a current (well, recently necroed) thread on my favorite gaming forum of 101 Obnoxious Cultural Traits.  Diving right in, herewith are my entries so far, for your own use and edification! If you feel some of these reflect real world cultures, you may well be right ...

"We're all badasses!  Can't you see the skull?"

1) They are relentless exceptionalists. Their culture/nation is just superior. Everything they do is better. Every institution they have is superior. Their blood is purer. Their crops are taller, their livestock is bigger, their children are smarter, their hats are wider, their music is louder, their sports are more "manly." It isn't even as if they feel they're in a competition: they think they already won them all a long time ago. Any evidence to the contrary is just white noise, and met with bemused, patronizing smiles.

2) As a variant of the above, they feel their culture is the center of the universe. Everyone else is a barbarian, and they just can't wrap their heads around dealing with outsiders except on terms of supplicants kowtowing to their masters. They're always right, everyone else is always wrong. 

3) They are rabid libertarians. The notion of a "common good" is sneered at, never mind sacrificing to achieve it. Any hint at restraining their "freedom" must be the result of malice, a vile conspiracy or enemy action. (Somewhat more obnoxiously, their notion of "freedom" suddenly comes to a screeching halt when it comes to how YOU act towards THEM.)

4) They loathe and despise another major culture/nation. Nothing from that culture can be any good. No one from that culture is any good. Having so much of an ancestor of that culture defiles you irrevocably. The laws notwithstanding, crimes committed against people from that culture are no more credited by the authorities than crimes committed against a cockroach. That other culture/nation is plainly out to do them down, and must be opposed at all times and at all hazards, reflexively.  If an actual conflict breaks out, it's war to the knife.

5) Their notion of driving comes, one might joke, from demolition derbies. They hurl their vehicles forward at reckless speeds. Traffic laws, driving lanes, curbsides, these are designed to be flouted. Other vehicles, obstacles, buildings, these are expected to yield or vanish at their approach. Their attitude towards pedestrians is apparently that they collect points for mowing them down, like a pinball game. Being a passenger in their vehicles feels very much like you're on the wrong end of a cavalry charge.

6) Their notion of formal courtesy is staggeringly complex, and lacks any sense of a guiding principle: there are just rules upon rules upon rules. There aren't merely a few forms of address; there are hundreds. It's not that the rules themselves are incomprehensible, it's that there are so damn many. Failure to conform with each and every one of them tags you, irrevocably, as a barbarian.

7) Likewise, they have a complex code of behavior based around clothing, jewelry, face painting and/or tattoos. Where and whether you wear a stud of a red stone in a gold setting, versus wearing a blue stone in a silver setting, announces that you're in a committed monogamous relationship, versus being up for one-off sexual encounters with strangers in the nearest convenient alley. (Or so it would seem.) This code signifies area of birth, political or religious affiliation, the whole works. Wearing the items the "wrong" way is Not Done ... well, other than by adolescents trying to shock the squares. They all reflexively assume outsiders are familiar with and are conforming to the code, and are very wrongfooted if this isn't the case.

8) Some common terms in their language are vile obscenities in yours, or vice versa. "Good morning, how are you faring?" is their standard greeting, and the words in your language imply that the speaker personally facilitated your spouse becoming a diseased prostitute.  The very name of their people, in their own language, is an obscenity in yours.

9) They are a homogeneous society, exclusively of an insular ethnic group. They will learn the language of another culture only grudgingly, and practice elements of that culture in like fashion, like someone scrunching up their faces and holding their noses. Intolerant of immigrants, outsiders in their homeland are stigmatized and relegated to menial or dangerous professions. Marrying outside their culture is unthinkable.  They tend, generally, to be isolationists.

10) In a more extreme fashion – tip of the cap to Prof. Barker! – the culture is downright xenophobic. They won't even pretend to tolerate the practices of outsiders, nor soil their tongues with barbarian languages.  Foreigners had better stay in their insular cantonments after business hours (and will be cheated and derided during them), or risk running into gangs whose idea of fun is impaling them.

11) They just don't get the practices of other cultures. They're not unduly mean or rude about it, nor are they haughty over the correctness of their own culture, but they can't comprehend deviations from their own practices, no matter how often displayed or repeated.

12) They're inveterate and reflexive duelists. They're touchy about a lot of things, and an insult can only be wiped out in blood: there's pretty much a duel going on all the time in any city (and they're outright spectator sports).  The code duello is comprehensive and well-known. Declining a duel provokes the same horrified reactions as urinating on an altar during a religious service might.

13) Speaking of which ... they don't have much body consciousness regarding evacuation. Publicly urinating or defecating is the norm. Dropping trou to wipe their genitals with a cloth -- oh, hey, your handkerchief will do, much thanks! -- is common.

14) They are extreme xenophiles. Everything other cultures do is Neat! and Cool!  A product wrapping, a business sign, these are invariably in some other language (and they're often careless about the translation).  They give their children foreign -- or foreign-sounding -- names.  They're passionately interested in every difference, and regard every manifestation or behavior you might make as potentially some new Neat! and Cool! practice. They want to know All About It! Why is it you rub your chin like that? Did you get that from your parents? Is that a religious thing? Neat!

15) They have an extensive caste system, and everyone has their place within it. The system's very rigid, and rules govern how you treat people at every rung; violating these rules isn't merely a social offense but a religious one as well. They seek to fit you into a slot, and are visibly uncomfortable with those who do not fit.  However much they grudgingly recognize that other cultures don't play by their rules, it's hard for them to deal with and it shows.

16) The culture is just reflexively and mindlessly cruel, compared to yours. People think nothing of lashing lower-status folk with barbed quirts or whips, mutilating servants, putting animals to painful deaths just for the heck of it.  Athletic events which don't draw blood are for wimps. Outright executions take hours, and are spectator sports, with families bringing lunch baskets to the party, and the executioners take payments to cut off this part or that. How much am I bid for a finger? C'mon, you can do better than that! What's that you say, you call dibs on the left testicle? And so on and so forth.

17) A staple livestock (treated routinely as food in YOUR culture) is regarded as sacred. The animals are inviolate, allowed to wander around as they please, breeding and eating as they will. Just touching them is suspect. Molesting or impeding them will earn you a beating at best. Actually harming one will subject the perp to a gruesome death; being burned alive is standard. Eating the animal's flesh (or using its byproducts) is considered cannibalism and sacrilegious, and being known to be from a culture where that happens marks you as suspect. Accusations are routine and often knee-jerk: you'd better not sport a feather in your hat, if you don't want someone to scream that you plucked it from a sacred chicken ...

18) Some common practice is fetishized to the extreme. Let's take the color yellow, for example. Everyone wears it. No one's seen without it. Great care is taken to keep those yellow articles of clothing spotless and pristine. Spitting on something that's colored yellow is a near-sacrilegious act. Insulting the color absolutely is. People will stop and pray for a minute before whipping an egg yolk ... or doing anything that will harm or mar something colored yellow. "Sash-smearer" is their worst insult (referring to those unutterable louts who spill sauces on their yellow sashes). Even down to everyone daily consuming enough of a certain herb to ensure that they don't disrespect the revered color through urination. Pardon me, sir (delivered in a chilly tone), why aren't you eating your mlekil-root? What does its taste have to do with it?

19) It's an equestrian culture. Possession of a riding animal is a prerequisite to being treated as a real person, and one's skill at riding is paramount in determining status. All art and architecture is suffused with references to riding. Combat solely takes place mounted, and being dismounted or having your mount killed automatically means you yield/surrender. People would rather ride twenty miles than walk one. The very word for "human" in their language is literally "one who rides," and someone unable to ride (through inexperience, no talent, disability or age) is no longer treated as an adult, and will not be trusted with any responsible position.

20) No negotiation, no business dealing can be concluded before several rounds of their bitter, foul-tasting, very heavily alcoholic national drink. Wincing, flinching, or gagging means you're less than a real person. Never mind -- the gods forbid! -- declining.  What?!  You refuse to drink with us!?  (cue hand dropping to sword hilt)

21) Insults are the common way of treating other people. Greeting your best friend or spouse with "How goes it, you ugly goatfucker?" is considered a basic sign of affection. By contrast, treating someone with formal courtesy is considered insulting.

22) All foods must be prepared in a certain way (particular to each food or dish), and only in that way. You can only eat omelets; scrambled eggs are taboo. You can only eat broiled steaks; panfried or steak stir fry is right out. You can only find skim milk; whole fat milk doesn't exist. Etcetera.

23) Lying is a serious sin in this culture, and on the one hand that's a good thing. But the flip side is that people are seriously gullible, and will swallow the most bizarre delusions, if delivered earnestly enough. These are the people who believe in Pizzagate, the Piltdown Man, blood libels, Satanic ritual abuse, evil clowns, that the 2020 election was rigged, that the presence of wizards in neighborhoods cause people to become sterile, that the world will end on Kelusse 15 at two hours to sunsdown, and that the Martian War Machines will be responsible. They're altogether too easy to cheat or scam ... and altogether too willing to tear suspected cheaters and scammers to pieces, if the bastards are outed.

24) Religion is omnipresent to an overbearing degree. Prayer is a part of all business. Attending daily services is a must, and the truly pious squeeze more in. No home is without a niche to the gods/ancestors/spirits, and the poor beggar themselves for candles and offerings. Incredibly arcane -- and near-trivial -- facets of the faith are exhaustively contentious and continually debated, and riots have started over whether their god has two natures but only one will, or two wills and only one nature. (That particular riot ended when the two sides joined forces to attack the faction holding that the god had an equally balanced number of wills and natures: heresy!) An economically draining and disproportionate number are in the clergy. They're aware that outlanders hold to different faiths, and don't harass them for it, but it's all very tiresome.

24b) Come to that, take just about any aspect of life -- sports, politics, literature, leisure pastimes -- and apply the same treatment. Everyone reads all the time, no one's considered educated or a grown-up without being familiar with the entirety of the culture's literary canon, constant debates over New Works vs Traditional Works, fist fights over whether the newest translation was botched, people who can't whip out quotes at the drop of a pin derided for being bumpkins, society coming to a screeching halt when the Greatest Living Author comes out with a new book, society coming to a screeching halt for the state funeral when the Greatest Living Author kicks it. Etc.

25) The society's pretty straightlaced, nose to the grindstone, work work work. But at quitting time on Friday (or the equivalent thereof), all hell breaks loose. Everyone gets hammered, everyone gets laid, everyone dives into a completely over the top bacchanal. Kick the gendarmes in the jimmies, smash windows and furniture in the ensuing drunken stupor, empty your gun into the ceiling, throw up on your boss after pointing at her husband's crotch and laughing, it's all laughed off: "Whiskey, eh." At dawn the party stops, the cleanup begins, and everyone makes a point -- or that's the ideal, anyway -- of not mentioning it.

26) The culture has no sense of privacy. Everyone's in everyone else's business, all the time. It's only mildly suspect to come home to find a neighbor rifling through your papers and cabinets. Evasive or non-answers (or, gasp, locking one's door) invariably provoke a startled "Whaddaya got to hide?"

27) The culture has a fetish for divination. Everyone looks for omens for everything. The bones are cast, or the cards are read, or the entrails are examined for auspicious days to begin any significant undertaking. You might have to dodge passersby on the streets who are staring straight up, trying to discern patterns in the clouds or the flight of birds. No one will conclude serious business with you before consulting their fortuneteller, or asking you your birthday so they can have their neighborhood astrologer cast your horoscope.

28) The society highly values the ability to withstand pain. Ordeals are rites of passage, and torture the answer to just about everything. Showing fear under threat is shameful, keeping silent under torture is what separates persons from non-persons, and only silent deaths are considered honorable.

29) The culture's never shaken its nomadic roots. Buildings -- and they're never more than two stories -- are constructed with only three walls; the fourth is invariably of heavy canvas, leather, wicker or some other impermanent substance ... wattle-and-daub at the utmost. It's considered decadent to own more than you can carry in a wagon, or any one object too heavy to put in a packsaddle. The mark of how close your folk adhere to cultural purity is whether or not you go through with burning down your entire city once every twelve years -- as was done in the old days -- and rebuild it a mile thataway. Large-scale industry is disparaged in favor of handicrafts.

30) People speak what's on their mind.  It's not quite that they can't lie, or hold a secret, but they're seriously blunt, they have no social filters, and furthermore everyone's expected to take it in stride.   

31) Steel is sacred. Steel is holy. You proudly display your weapons, that all may honor them. You care for your knives like you would for your young. Better than. A rust spot on your blade, a notch, a pit ... and you have insulted Steel itself; you are not fit to live! (And you must die by stoning -- no steel must be sullied with your polluted blood.) A man whose weapon breaks is as good as emasculated. Your wealth must be spent on the finest scabbards, silver wire for the hilts, beautiful gems for the pommels. Only the best whetstones will do. Master armourers are the leaders and arbiters of society. Hail to Sacred Steel!

... stranger, where are your blades? (narrow stare)

A Tribute NPC: Valthor

On the gaming forum I most patronize, there's been a character creation challenge running the last month: come up with a new character every day in January.  A lot of people went with a number of different systems.  Mostly I stuck with GURPS and Fantasy Trip, but I dabbled in OD&D, two different rules iterations of Empire of the Petal Throne, Champions, Lamentations of the Flame Princess, original Traveller, etc.  This was one of my entries: 

Valthor (GURPS fantasy character)

This was one of the original five characters in my campaign, a somewhat-grimdark barbarian who would dedicate slain enemies to his grimdark tribal gods.  I still have a 1980 character sheet for Valthor – by then, fairly experienced – and rather than try to explain my baroque heavily VD&D system, I’ve popped it into GURPS.  Valthor was a relatively uncomplicated character, classic barbarian type.  Gambled for the fun of it, started a combat throwing hatchets and then waded in with a greatsword, well-practiced in martial arts, had a price on his head, nothing all that much out of the usual for adventurers.  I include him because ...

* Those quirks?  Heh.  Well.  Those stem from the influence of the Arduin Grimoire in my gaming.  I cheerfully incorporated its character quirk list, and Valthor turned up with the “Flesh tastes bad to monsters” quirk.  So okay.  The group’s fighting a wyvern, and the wyvern gets a critical hit in on Valthor.  So – in the very first incidence of me rolling on that Arduin table, the “Genitalia severed” entry comes up.  And the last thing Valthor sees before he passes out is the wyvern screwing up its face, and spitting out that which it had just bitten off.  Much hilarity, and Valthor wore a solid steel cup for the rest of his adventuring career.

* Valthor’s player Rick was a born-again Christian, and his faith was an important element for his whole life.  Someone asked him how he could reconcile playing a guy who worshiped dark barbarian gods with that faith, and I’ve always remembered his answer: that he figured that the Lord God Almighty, omniscient creator of heaven and earth, had enough on the ball to recognize the difference between fiction and games, and real life.  A level of common sense uncommon then and damned rare now.

* Finally ... well.  Rick went career in the Navy in 1982, and eventually settled in the Midwest.  I hadn’t heard from Rick since the spring – coinciding with me taking much of the year off from social media – but found out only yesterday that he’d died back in April from COVID.  He was an old friend, and a good man, and he passed away too soon.  He played a material role in my start in this hobby which not only is one of the enduring elements of my life, I met both my wives through it.  So should any of you want to put Valthor in as an NPC somewhere, I’d be grateful, and know that my friend’s impact is still out there.

Martial arts, the Navy and his faith were so important to Rick.  Rest well, old friend.

 
ST: 14     DX: 13    IQ: 11    HT: 14   Speed: 6 (reduced)             
 
Advantages: Acute Hearing/2; Attractive; Charisma+1; Danger Sense; Discriminatory Smell; Extended Hearing Range; Fit; Language: Altanian (N/-); Language: Avanari (A/-); Outdoorsman Talent+3; Strongbow.

Disadvantages: Bloodlust; Low TL+1; Social Stigma: Outlaw; Struggling.

Skills:  Armoury (fletcher)-13; Bow-13; Camouflage-14; Climbing-12; First Aid-11; Gambling-10; Karate-14, Religious Ritual-10; Riding-12; Seamanship-11; Singing-14; Stealth-12; Survival-14; Tanning-12; Thrown Weapon: Axe-13; Tracking-17; Two-Handed Sword-15; Weather Sense-13

Quirks: Deep bass voice; Devout (tribal god); Flesh tastes bad to monsters; Protective of genitalia.

GURPS Apocrypha (part II) - Magic

(Following my prior post.  This does NOT include the reordering of colleges I've done, the vast number of new spells, or me tearing down the prerequisite chains and rebuilding them more along the lines of "Cadence requires 6 Body Control spells instead of Grace+Haste.")

p. 6    Learning Magic, generally:

* Mages may not start with a higher level than Magery/3.  They may improve Magery at double cost.  My approval is required for Magery 5, and players should not expect to improve past Magery 6.

* Each wizardly order has “consonant” spell colleges.  This affects both access and time required to learn spells.  An Average Consonant spell requires a minimum of one week to learn (given proper materials, sources, and practice time), a Hard spell a minimum of two weeks, and a Very Hard spell four to six weeks.  Non-Consonant spells require half again normal time.  (These numbers are reduced, as per RAW, by 10% per the learner’s level of Magery.)  Mages must learn no fewer than 50% of their spells in Consonant colleges.  Defense, Knowledge and Enchantment spells count as “consonant” for purposes of learning time, but do not count as consonant for the 50% learning rule.

* Spells are further divided into three categories within their respective colleges: Unrestricted, Restricted and Secret.  The only Restricted spells mages can learn are Consonant.  Secret spells are mostly unknown to the wizarding population, and are often cult secrets of wizardly orders.  Beyond that, many orders have proprietary secret spells unknown even to other orders using the same colleges of magic.  Some colleges do not have Restricted spells: Defense, Knowledge, Enchantment, and (several of) the interdisciplinary elemental colleges.

* Learning new spells requires either finding a teacher (using appropriate Hireling rolls) or doing substantial research in a well-stocked magical library (requiring a Research roll and access to said library).  Both approaches can be hit or miss.

* As a loose rule, I allow improving existing spells by a level per experience award, provided the spell was used in the preceding sessions.  Please note that a skill level of 21 is rated expert, one of the best in all the land, and skill levels that reach -21 – never mind surpass it – must be justified by strong arguments and approved by me, which will not be easy.  Skill-25 denotes, in my mind, around the best in the world, and I’ve allowed only two spellcasting PCs to reach that level (with a single spell each) in four decades.

* Magery/1 is a prerequisite to use most spells.  Characters with Magery/0 can cast Average spells.

p. 6    Mana: Clarification: only mages can cast spells, period, regardless of the ambient mana level.  There is no point to someone without Magery learning a spell, although I won't forbid it.

p. 7    Casting Spells:  I require that players tell me what spells are being prepared and the target/s if any, without me having to prompt them.  Failure to provide this information in full, at the time a Concentrate maneuver is taken, will mean that no spell is cast.

p. 7    Critical Success:  Regardless of skill level, rolls of 3-4 is a critical success, a roll of 5 is an automatic success, a roll of 16 is an automatic failure, and rolls of 17-18 critical failures.  In addition to there never being an energy cost for a Critically Successful spell, such spells do not have a maintenance cost, and can effectively be maintained for as long as the caster is awake to consciously continue the spell (at his or her discretion).  The caster only needs to do so at the regular time of maintenance, so can keep spells with long-term durations going for quite some time.  Such maintained spells do not count for -1 against ongoing spells.

There are special Critical Success charts for Missile Spells.  Critical successes for the following types of spells have no Critical Success chart, but have the following effects:   

Regular/Resisted/Special: Resistance rolls, if any, automatically fail.  On a roll of 3, the caster may turn the spell into an area spell covering the entire megahex, if he or she wishes.
    
Blocking: A magical backlash stuns the aggressor until a roll at IQ (IQ-3 for a roll of 3) is made.

Area: The spell’s area may be increased by half again (double with a roll of 3) at the caster’s discretion with no extra fatigue cost; he or she may hold the area at any point short of the increased zone, and can have non-inclusive shapes.  Resistance rolls, if any, automatically fail.
    
Enchantment: The item gains 1 point of Power for free.  If it is already self-powering or does not need mana to make it work, then it gains an extra level of effect or loses a magical Quirk, at the caster’s discretion, as well as a special effect that does not improve the material quality of the item, per se, but is flashy, flamboyant or impressive.  This special effect can be suppressed by a Concentration maneuver on the part of the wielder.  On a roll of 3, the item gains the previous effects and abilities, as well as a random secondary enchantment (GM’s discretion) of a creation cost no greater than ¼th that of the base enchantment OR immunity from any future Quirks for subsequent enchantments.

Information: The caster gains significantly more information than the result would indicate.

p. 7    Critical Spell Failure Table: replaced with my own.

p. 8    Energy Cost: The Recover Strength spell does not exist.

Mages can draw mana from outside of Consensual Reality (i.e., other than from personal fatigue, HT or Powerstones) to cast their spells.  When doing so, if mages exceed their “Threshold Rating” — normally zero, but see below — they must roll on the Magical Calamity Table, adding +1 for every full 5 points of “extra” fatigue drawn to power the spell.  The following two new advantages are used for this system:

Increased Threshold         5/level
For each level of Increased Threshold that you have, add 6 to the Threshold Rating.

Safer Excess             5/level
Your Calamity rolls for overstrength magic use are at +1 for every 10 points of excess, instead of +1 per 5. Every additional level doubles this effect (+1 per 20, +1 per 40).

p. 8    Magic Rituals: The implication is that for skill 10-14, you can’t move 1 hex on a Concentrate maneuver.  I allow a hex of movement nonetheless.

p. 8    Magic Ingredients: I don’t require them.

p. 9    Alternate Magic Rituals: I don’t allow mages to omit required words or actions at a penalty.  I do allow the +1 to skill for a double-time, very loud and showy incantation; this can be combined with a Ceremonial casting (see below).

p. 10    Changing Maintained Spells: I don’t allow this.

p. 10    Canceling Spells: While it doesn’t specify, I’ve always allowed this as a free-time action.

p. 11    Regular Spells: The penalty for distance is -1/three hexes.

p. 11    Area Spells:

*  The base area starts at a megahex, not a hex. 

*  A caster can not create an area with “holes” in it.  He can only reduce the area inclusively, so that a straight line can’t be drawn between two points in the area to a point outside the area, except that a Wall spell may be in a curved line.  This means that a caster is subject to his own spell if he’s within the area at the time of casting, unless explicitly stated otherwise in the spell description.

p. 12    Ceremonial Magic: Assistants can also contribute by the Lend Energy spell, in an alternative to the other procedures.  Energy thus provided needs to be discharged within a minute, or it vanishes.

p. 14    Long-Distance Modifiers: Touching the subject – unless the spell requires it – adds +4 to skill level, as per BSII.

p. 15    Player-Created Spells: I don’t use this system.  Speak to me if you’re interested.

p. 15    Designing Wizard Characters: The -10% “Usable only for spellcasting” limitation on Fatigue Points can not be bought.

p. 17    Power of a Magic Item: I don’t use this, and items generally work just fine in a low-mana zone.

p. 18    Slow and Sure Enchantment: Reduce the number of mage-days to make an item four-fold.  A great many item costs throughout the book have been changed; take no listed enchantment cost for gospel.

p. 19    Using Magic Items: Substitute the enchanter’s effective skill level for Power.  Beyond that, every magic item has 1 free FP of energy, as if it were enchanted with Power-1.

p. 19    Multiply Enchanted Items: I use the old Fantasy Trip Rule of 5: a person may only have up to five:

* ... active spells on him at any one time.  Casting another spell on him will shut down the oldest friendly spell, in my exclusive judgment.  Hostile spells cannot be canceled, and any further attempt to cast spells on a subject already affected by five hostile spells will not work.  However, this cannot be used to “dispel” spells on a hostile target through casting petty spells on him.

* ... or magical items on his person at any one time.  If the limit is exceeded, none will work.  The “not working” might last a while after the number is reduced back down to five.  It could last quite a long while.  Powerstones count against this limit.  A Powerstone can, however, be embedded into an item that has five spells, and if it is designated an Exclusive Powerstone, it and the item are treated as a unitary item and the embedded Powerstone does not count against the Rule of Five.

* A magical item may only be enchanted with up to five spells (but see above). An attempt to place any further enchantments on it will simply fail.  The only exception is an item with the Staff or Wizard’s Staff enchantments, or an Exclusive Powerstone as cited above, none of which count against the limit.

p. F71 - Magical Legality Classes:  GURPS Fantasy sets this list out:

    MLC 4: Spells of healing, perception, knowledge, communication, crop fertility, food production.

    MLC 3: Spells of movement, protection, illusion, concealment; temporary incapacitation spells; spells that shape materials or control natural forces or living creatures; spells that inflict injury or break material objects.

     MLC 2: Spells of mind control, flight, necromancy; permanent incapacitation spells; spells of elemental summoning and control.

    MLC 1: Curses; spells for teleportation, Gate creation, invisibility and perception through physical barriers.

    MLC 0: Large-scale destructive spells, large-scale mind-control spells, large-scale curses.

    For the most part, Celduin polities are at least MLC 3.  MLC 2 is usually restricted to licensed College members, and almost always tightly controlled. Individual Orders may (if under the table) teach at MLC 1, but the practice of these spells is usually illegal, and at level best strictly controlled.

GURPS Apocrypha -- Basic Set changes

(Provoked by a discussion on the Reddit GURPS board, this goes page-by-page through the Characters book)

p.10    The point cost for creating new characters is 135 pts.

p.11    The disadvantage limit is -50 pts.  

p.14+    ST/HT cost ten points per level for the first three levels; DX/IQ cost 15 points per level for the first three levels.  They cost 15 and 20 points, respectively, for the next two levels.  Scores lower than 10 have a negative cost: -10 pts per level for ST or HT, -15 per level for DX or IQ.  I will not let a character have an attribute lower than 8, and an attribute that low will seriously impair a character; I discourage it.

p.16    Characters all have +5 bonus Hit Points, at no charge.  (This doesn’t apply to NPCs.)  I do not base HP on ST, but on HT.  I do not base Fatigue Points on HT, but on ST.  I do work with the ±30% limitation, but am slightly more generous when it comes to spellcasters.

p.17    Light Encumbrance reduces Move by 1.  Medium Encumbrance reduces Move by 2.   Heavy Encumbrance reduces Move by 3.  Extra-Heavy Encumbrance reduces Move by 4. 

p.29    Rank costs 3 pts/level.

p.32    Advantages: A separate list summarizes the changes to point cost, and those Advantages that are restricted or unavailable to PCs.  New Advantages include:

Combat Calm (5 pts): You think and react much faster in a crisis situation than others.  You add +1 to Fright Checks.  Furthermore, you may take your time thinking of a proper course of action, even during round time.  Effectively, while other players may be required to make immediate, time-restricted decisions, you get an extra minute or more to decide.

Fast Reflexes (5 pts/level):  You have unusually quick and reactive hand-eye coordination.  You add +1/level to any DX roll to catch an airborne object.  You also add +1/3 levels (round down) to all weapon parries.  You may learn the Parry Missile Weapons skill, and add 1/3 the level (round down) to any such skill roll.

Fixed Property (10 pts):  You have up to ten times your regular starting Wealth tied up various properties or other capital investments.  Possessions that can be directly used for adventuring, as well as those that can easily be converted to cash, should be purchased with normal starting Wealth.  There are two main drawbacks connected with the property: they are not easily convertible to hard cash, and they are subject to calamities such as natural elements, theft or war.  The property can be beneficial in the way that it provides income, which should be purchased as Independent Income or earned through work.

Spatial Perception (1 pt/lvl):  You have a keen eye for judging distance and size, and roll IQ +2/level for judging the distance to or the size of any subject in LOS.  One-fourth your level (round down) is added to any Navigation roll.

p.119    Disadvantages: A separate list summarizes the changes to point cost, and those Disadvantages that are restricted or unavailable to PCs.  New Disadvantages include:

Battle Addiction (-10 pts):  You are addicted to combat, and must make a Will roll to avoid an obvious combat situation.  You are not necessarily vicious towards your enemies (as with Bloodlust) and do not have to enjoy hurting others -- you are simply addicted to the thrill of violence.  It is quite possible that you don t enjoy your addiction at all!  No character with this disadvantage can take any Pacifism disadvantage.  You do not necessarily run around bashing heads and attacking everyone you meet.  You can try to avoid potentially violent situations ... but when the opportunity presents itself, you can t resist joining into a fight! 

Chronicler (-10 pts):  You are an inveterate diarist.  This takes the form of an in-character writeup of each gaming session, from the viewpoint of the character, of at least 750 words (about two single spaced typed pages), which is due to be submitted to the GM by the start of the next game session.  Skilled artists may substitute an 81/2" x 11" sketch pertaining to the game session.  You receive no experience points as long as any writeup is outstanding.  After ten such writeups, you are no longer required to submit any, but you receive one bonus XP for each further writeup you do submit.

Compulsive Behavior/Wanderlust (-5 pts):  You have a difficult time staying in anyone place for a long time; the need to explore is too great.  After six months of living in one place, you must make a Will roll each week or travel again for at least a month.  You may have a permanent dwelling and even a family, but can never totally give up your wanderings ... see something new, go somewhere you have never been, wander until you have experienced something new and exciting.  Another version is specific to sailors – the desire to return to the sea.  You must never leave the close proximity of the ocean or you must start making Will rolls after one week away from salt water.

Dandy (-5/-10 pts):  You are the height of fashion and good taste.  Everything you own must cost at least 10% more than normal.  Your clothing must at all times be very proper and formal, even when it would be restricting or absurd (a dandy would go dungeon diving in a frock coat and silk breeches). You take several extra minutes to prepare to do anything, as it takes time to ensure your hair and clothing are in proper order and that all your jewelry is polished.  You must also bathe and change clothes at least daily if possible.  At the 10 pt level, your tastes often go beyond tasteful fashion into the gaudy and impractical, even at the expense of safety and good judgment.  In general, you must make a Will roll to undertake any activity that will get you dirty, or risk your  good looks.  Aesthetics are the principal motivator for your decisions, often to an absurd degree. This counts as an Odious Personal Habit with a -2 reaction to anyone but other Fops.

Minor Medical Ailment (-5 pts): You have a minor and intermittent medical problem, such as a bad joint or arthritis, that occasionally handicaps you.  Make a HT roll per game session (or game day, whichever occurs more frequently).  Failure to make the roll inflicts certain penalties for 1d6 hours.  These can also be triggered by stress: heavy lifting can throw out a bad joint, eating a lot of rich food aggravates gout, camping in cold, wet weather can set off rheumatic joints or a bronchial condition.  The GM should impose extra HT rolls, at penalties if the situation calls for them, whenever needful.  Some possible MMAs are as follows:

        -1 ST, -1 DX: Bad shoulder, arm; arthritic or rheumatic hands; hernia
        -1 DX, -1 Move: Bad leg or foot; arthritic or rheumatic knees or ankles; gout
        -1 IQ, -2 Fatigue: Fibromyalgia; headaches; cancer; diabetes
        -1 DX, -2 Fatigue: Various dystrophies; malaria; dietary deficiencies
        -1 HT, -2 Fatigue: Bronchitis; cancer; fibrillosis; diabetes
        -2 Perception, -2 Fatigue: Lupus; diabetes

These are relatively minor cases; full-blown versions of most of the listed syndromes are considerably more debilitating, and should be reflected through lower stats and/or disadvantages such as Unfit, Wounded or Chronic Pain.

p.170    I do not use the game-time-for-points method; all skills must be improved through earned experience.

p.171    A roll of 5 is an automatic success, and a roll of 16 an automatic failure, regardless of skill level.  I don’t bother with the “Relative Skill Level” system.

p.174    A separate list summarizes the skills available in the Celduin campaign.  Generally speaking, I don’t strictly adhere to the modifiers set forth in skill descriptions; I’m more wont to ballpark them.

p.254    Psionics are generally unavailable (barring a whopping Unusual Background cost).

p.259    A separate list summarizes the available orders (especially wizardly Orders) and their templates.

p.260    A separate list summarizes the available races and their templates.

p.275    I don’t use the rules for missile weapons, and use the rules from the 2nd edition, which has a Point Blank (PB) modifier of +4, a “snap-shot” penalty of -4 (firing without a round of Aiming), and an Increment (Inc) penalty of -1 per Increment in hexes to the target.

p.286    I don’t use the Reaction Penalty rule, or think it takes only 3 seconds to don armor.

p.290    I award character points after every three sessions.  Improving attributes (including raising secondary ones independently) costs double the normal amount of character points.

p.292    As mentioned before, I do not use the Improvement Through Study method of improving skills.

The Village of St. Chanan's

I am active on the RPG Pub, my gaming forum of choice.  There's a topic about usable gaming content in blogs, and I figured I'd take up the challenge and work something up.  So here 'tis!

The Village of St. Chanan's

 

HISTORY

St. Chanan’s is a sometime-castle, situated in a border hill country.  In the most recent war, it was invested by a force far greater than its lord and the inadequate garrison could withstand.  The attacking general ordered an immediate escalade, which was badly botched, and while successful sustained far too many casualties.  In any other war, between any two other nations, the ensuing massacre would have been a tale of horror on the lips of minstrels continent-wide; in this war, it was one of all too many.

Intending to render the fortification unusable, the raiders murdered almost everyone they could catch, pulled down the donjon, turned the villages in the valley into smoking ruin, and was about to start on the walls when they were recalled, leaving an empty shell save for the (however much looted) church in the courtyard.  The war has been over for three years now.  The castle was not reclaimed, what with the lord’s heirs carrying on a pitiless war of their own in the courts, over its possession.

TODAY

No one’s sure who made the suggestion, but the several dozen villagers who remained moved in within the walls, to what they now call St. Chanan’s, after the church to the Moon God that still – miraculously – stands.  The outer wall remains in usable condition, and the villagers live inside the towers.  Every day the villagers head out to tend their fields and herd the goats to pasture; every night they come back within the somewhat-dubious safety of the walls.  The fortification is not terribly defensible as it stands, but the towers themselves are fairly secure.  Should PCs find themselves inside, the dwellings within are furnished catch-as-catch-can, with furniture and goods either salvaged from the depredations in the area, or from the donjon itself – it’s by no means unlikely to find a rich, embroidered tapestry serving as a family’s quilt.

The border country was exhausted in the war, and with nearby towns razed and pillaged, St. Chanan’s has become a trading post.  Cross-border traders are treated with nothing beyond bare civility, but without trade St. Chanan’s dies, and they are not targeted.  The area marked with asterisks is where peddlers set up stalls or wagons.  A cut of all sales goes to the villagers, but they are more interested in goods useful to them than in coin, and are downright resistant towards gold, preferring to be paid in silver – gold is too easy to steal, they feel.  They are not very interested in things they cannot use, and offering them jewels, weapons or magical items in trade will fall flat (“Pretty necklace.  Can I eat it?  Will it plow a straight furrow?”), believing that they cannot resell such items without being cheated or robbed.

Beyond that, St. Chanan’s doesn’t produce much beyond local crafts, goats’ wool and goat cheese.  These are of good quality, and cheese is available in bulk – typically aged in caves, those weren’t pillaged by the invaders.  The local goat cheese is a white cheese similar to feta, and aged in large balls about 6" wide.  (They have thick rinds and will travel well.)

St. Chanan’s has no leader, and the villagers govern by consensus, meeting as needed.  They are otherwise a sober lot, and aren’t wont to chatter with outsiders without a good reason to do so – law and order has broken down throughout this stretch of the border, and strangers who aren’t obviously traders are suspected of being bandits until proven otherwise.

The fortress is built on a leveled-off hill.  It isn’t all that high – though it has good sightlines for the region around – nor all that steep, save for the bluff just north of the walls.  It has the one well, large and delved by a sorcerer in days gone by.  Travelers are welcome to camp inside the walls, in the center of the compound between the ruins of the donjon and the garden at #9.  The grass is cropped short enough to be unsuitable to feed mounts, however, although one can obtain hay from the villagers for about double the going rate.

CUSTOMS

The builders were pious, and sigils of the Moon God – a chevron of seven different phases of a moon – are over every stone doorway and the gatehouse.  The inner door of every tower has a niche with a devotional statue in it (only a few were desecrated), and locals touch their foreheads and lips to the statues when passing by.  It is an inviolable custom to have oil lamps burning below each statue, but also the source of much contention: a large sum of money dedicated in better days as an “oil fund” is administered by the priestesses of the Moon God, and felt by them to be beyond touching ... no matter how many villagers think there are far better uses for the money than to keep lamps burning beneath eighteen statues.

The villagers hold to several other folk customs.  Adults bear a small wooden or leather tube on their sashes, inside which is a ribbon embroidered with the words “If the Moon Lord does not keep the watch, in vain do mortal sentries do.”  The same phrase is painted over or etched into every lintel.  It is also the custom to ring bells in order to drive demons away, and to wear animal masks into religious ceremonies; a great grief to the villagers is that most of the elaborate carved and painted wooden masks they used to have were burned by the invaders.  Those who rely on crude workarounds feel an inchoate sense of shame (and no small amount of anger) out of the loss of their heritage.

The villagers frequently burn incense or potpourri in their tower dwellings, even down to sweet grass or foraged herbs if that is all they can get.  (They won’t discuss why readily, but in the aftermath of the massacre, the stench was so great that they needed the incense to be able to get a decent night’s sleep, and can’t collectively shake the habit.)  New scents are a trade good that interest them highly.

 

LOCATIONS

1) Blacksmith: Kenesh the smith (Smith-13) runs one of the two interior shops, and lives on the first floor as well.  A burly, easygoing man, he is a perfectly competent smith and a good farrier, but has no experience in armoury beyond knifemaking, forging arrowheads, and basic repairs.  One quirk of his is that he sings while he works ... constantly.  It is always verses from the locals’ epic poem (see #10), and to a tune he makes up on the spot.  Kenesh isn’t a bad singer, mind, but the habit does grate on some nerves.

2) Gatehouse: The gatehouse is in good repair save for the gate itself.  That was smashed by the invaders, and all repairs managed was to make it able to keep goats from straying out at night; it will not deter a determined assault for more than minutes.  The gatehouse remains well stocked with coal, sand (much cheaper and convenient than boiling oil) and weapons that the invaders were unable to cart away.  The invaders smashed the fortress’ artillery, but the villagers repaired two ballistae, one for each of the gate towers.  Not being siege engineers, the degree to which the reconditioned ballistae are safe to operate is anyone’s guess.

Four mercenaries live in the gatehouse, and serve as the village’s guard, keeping an eye on the traders, loitering around the compound during the day to give the illusion of it being patrolled.  The mercs are combat veterans (around 90 pts, on the average), but are either too old or too battered to serve in the line any more.  They are what the villagers can afford, and some locals grumble at scraping up the wherewithal for that much.  They are at least well-supplied from the stores in the fortress, with good swords and mail.  The villagers ignore the detachment as much as possible (the traders, at least, exchange greetings and news), and the mercenaries leave them be.  This is a decent retirement gig, and they’re disinclined to jeopardize that.  

Pereval is the leader of the unit, who call him “Sergeant,” a term at which he himself sneers.  He’s not yet old, and not yet crippled ... he’s just been in too many battles over too many wars, and is past it.  Pereval’s method of peacekeeping is intimidation, backed up by his glaring, orange-gold eyes; it is rumored that he has demon blood in him, something he carefully does not gainsay.  Of course, he talks a far better game than he can back up these days, but he is veteran enough to gauge the prowess of potential foes, and neither he nor his men fight with any degree of chivalry.  They will keep the peace within the walls, but aren't up for pursuing marauders who get away.
                                    
3) St. Chanan’s Church: While the invaders thoroughly looted this small temple, they shrank from destroying it.  The only remaining decorations are the padded kneeling cushions, overlooked by the invaders, and painted murals depicting the saint, purportedly the bodyguard of the Moon Lord as He walked the land.  (In fact, “St. Chanan” is apocryphal, and the organized authority of the moon faith does not recognize his existence.)  A tapestry from the old donjon now serves as an altar cloth, and services and ceremonials continue here.  It is also the closest the locals have to a community hall, and is used for meetings and gatherings.

Learned Elena Macardry is the embittered priestess (Theology-14, various scholarly skills/ Public Speaking-13, Physician-12).  Once the respected (and well-supported) chaplain of the castle’s lord, she heavily resents her now-straitened conditions.  While the villagers still support her out of piety, they do not love her, for she arrogantly treated them as simple clods who were beneath her before, and their memories are long.  No longer young, gone to fat, she is prone to rages and lashing out at everything – the tallow candles which replaced rich beeswax, the humble fare which replaced dainty imported viands, the traders still offering her books she can no longer afford to buy, old grievances both real and imagined ... and, secretly, the god she is sure betrayed her.  Only two teenage acolytes still serve her, and that for a roof over their heads and a decent meal – she has driven the others away.  The Learned is a lay priestess without supernatural powers, but is a skilled scholar and theologian, a good public speaker (when she doesn't lose it and harangue her congregants for their failings), and a fair physician.  

4) Statue Seller: Industriously, Sabek (Merchant-11) salvaged numerous small statues and busts from the ruins, and peddles them as antiquities to credulous buyers.  Most are quite fine (barring the occasional chip, scratch or fracture), and a number are made of valuable materials such as porphyry, jadeite, alabaster and the like.  He emulates the perceived manner of the itinerant traders, and believes that he is a champion hustler.  The traders, in return, treat him with bemused condescension.

This shop, as well as #5 through #8, are exterior stalls, made of scrap wood and felted overhangs and drops.  The degree to which they’re open is weather-dependent.

5) Tailor/tentmaker: Melev (Sewing-14) is a young fellow, lean, pious, bespectacled and diligent, sure that if he just works hard and keeps on working hard, he will Get Ahead, and so be allowed to marry the agemate of his dreams.  While he sews the simple caftans, vests and peaked hats of the area, and will copy non-local garments if he’s allowed to take them apart for templates, where he really shines is in tentmaking, using felt from the goats.  Melev’s pyramid tents are sturdy, warm and shed water admirably – if you don’t mind the weight – and it only takes him a week to make one.  (However, the itinerant traders value his tents highly, and one might have to pay a surcharge to bump one in the queue.)  He will also add colorful abstract appliques or embroidery to the tents, and indeed works in one set up in this location.

6) Provisioner: Sonsy and middle-aged, Khautyn is the friendliest, most outgoing local the PCs might encounter, short of Kenesh.  She prepares sausages (Cooking-13, Merchant-12) from goats, from game the hunters bring in, and from other sources best left unmentioned.  The sausages are of good quality for what they are, and keep well on the road – the more sensible traders scoop up as many as she might have available.  If she lacks sausages, what she also has available in profusion is Good Advice, which she’ll dole out to patrons asked for or not.  Her eldest daughter Indigo is a goatherd, and the light of Melev’s (#5) eye, affections she reciprocates.

7) Leatherworker: Alpa is a slender young woman (Leatherworking-13, Artist/tooling-15), with fierce hawk-like features and an intense manner.  Her work is in saddle- and tackmaking, and she readily does repairs of trail gear, which occupies much of her time.  She can do other work – and does very nice tooling in abstract patterns – but only slowly, and the other calls on her time interrupt.  Apparently deeply affected by the burnings, she’s manifesting an odd syndrome: an inability to draw inferences or conclusions from a statement.  For instance, you can tell her, “I’m down to my last dozen silver sinvers,” but she won’t be able to get from there to “... and that means I can’t pay you much for the work.”  The other villagers are aware of the issue, and try to look out for her as best as they can; Khautyn the sausage maker especially will keep an eye out.

8) Cartwright: Labrys and his two teenage children (all that survived of his family) are kept busy repairing the wagons of the traders; he is skilled enough and honest that traders will stagger well out of their way to cadge a repair (Carpentry-14).  They are also available for general carpentry as needed, but if they’re otherwise idle, they’re busy making a wall-sided wagon, sturdy and sound.  (If the PCs need a wagon, the gang is within a day of finishing it, and while Labrys himself has no more use for gold than the average St. Chanan’s local, the traders will willingly take the gold and play middleman, delivering to Labrys such goods as he might find useful.)  Not quite to the point of sullenness in dealing with outsiders, the cartwright will only talk about business, and that in little more than monosyllables.

9) Several small canvas-and-scrap stalls are arrayed from here to the gatehouse, and reserved for villagers who have anything to sell: mostly produce, in season, but also cheeses, handcrafts, gathered herb bundles, and the like.  For anything that would be sold in bulk, the villagers negotiate directly with the traders.

10) The Moon and Goat: The settlement’s tavern has a crudely painted sign depicting a goat taking a bite out of a moon.  Its interior is a jackdaw’s mix of furnishings from the old donjon and crudely fashioned tables and chairs from scrap wood; the bar itself is the high table from the old Great Hall, of wrought mahogany and baroquely carved.  It would be worth a great sum if it hadn’t been cut in half, lengthwise, for the purpose, and the usual reaction of traders seeing it for the first time is a pained groan.  (They groan a fair bit harder upon hearing that the rest of the table was chopped up for firewood and table legs.)  The Goat is a relatively convivial place, where the traders take their meals and swap tales of the road.  Any villagers patronizing it of an evening are likely to have a looser tongue than usual.

The story above is divided into living quarters for the proprietor’s family, as well as four small private rooms for rental.  Only two have windows – arrow slits, really – and all are equipped with rope-frame beds with mattresses stuffed with goat’s wool, nightstands, water jugs and chamberpots.  Simple locks (+2 to pick) were salvaged from elsewhere within the fortification.  There is a small copper bathtub, but hauling and heating water takes some doing, and baths are pricey.  

The fare is relatively simple: goat cheeses, goat stews with root vegetables, sausages, barley flatbreads.  The one leavening in the mix is that the hill country produces culinary herbs in profusion, so the stews are well-seasoned, and they can be seasoned to taste if the tavernkeeper is warned in advance.  Barley beer and herbal teas make up the great majority of the drinks; wines and spirits must be brought in, and at a stiff premium.  Stews are served in stoneware bowls salvaged from the donjon, and eaten with the flatbreads – the bowls were once valuable, with fine glazes and decorative scenes – but are chipped and cracked from constant tavern use.  (If magically repaired, they could fetch a fine price.)

A couple times a week, locals provide entertainment.  Instrumentalists include goat-skin hand drums, wooden flutes, and a fretless five-stringed instrument resembling a guitar.  Otherwise, there is an epic poem revolving around the heroic deeds of the locals’ forebears.  Most villagers have memorized some of the poem, and a couple pride themselves on knowing all of it: there are over ten thousand verses, and getting through it all would take months.

Beyaza is the tavernkeeper (Innkeeper-13), a quiet middle-aged woman with a talent for unobtrusiveness and blending into the background.  She will tend to a customer’s needs with little comment, and respond laconically and evasively to questions.  Her family are cooks and servers, and in case of any trouble, the one closest to the door will slip out and – in order – roust the mercenaries in the gatehouse, the blacksmith, and any other villagers available.

Talo has rented one of the rooms for a couple months now.  He dresses simply, openly carries long knives (Knife-15), and is a short, wiry fellow with abrupt, jittery mannerisms.  Talo doesn’t have any visible profession, isn’t interested in work, but pays his tab every week in good silver ... or else goes out to the traders’ row and buys something the tavern could use in lieu of the same.  He’ll engage in jocular, neutral conversation, but reacts angrily to any personal questions, including when he’ll move on (“None of your damn business”) or whether he intends to stay indefinitely (“You hear me the first time, pal?”).

11) Ruined Donjon: What’s left of the donjon is a stub, consisting of the first story – the rest of the rubble was sold off as building stone and carted away.  The practical villagers use the ruin to pen up their goat herds during the night, toss them garbage generated within the compound to eat, and use the droppings to manure their fields.  The goats are used for dairy and their wool, and excess kids are slaughtered for meat.

12) Garden: The broad oval space is a tightly landscaped community garden, where the locals grow vegetables and herbs.  There is barely enough space to walk between plots, and the villagers are intolerant of outsiders breaking the perimeter (fenced by large stones from the donjon).  A couple youths bearing switches are tasked with keeping goats and other draft animals out.  The fortification’s well is at the southeast corner.

PERSONALITIES

The villagers generally have a reasonable spread of crafts (generally at skill -12/-13), for PCs who want to avail themselves of the same: basket weavers, tapestry/quiltmakers, charcoalers, cheesemakers, fletchers, brewers.  They’re usually willing to hire out for it, as long as it doesn’t impede the work of herding or farming.

Bekova (Area Knowledge/Crossbow-16, Survival/Traps-14) is a representative hunter and trapper, who brings in meat for the locals, and trades hides and furs to the itinerant peddlers.  She is lean, quick, good in the field, a crack shot with a crossbow, and mingles as little as possible.  All know that she’s the one to speak to as far as knowledge and conditions of a 15-mile diameter area around St. Chanan’s, but pinning her down is hard, and she’s seldom interested in dealing, unless a party has magical aids to hunting they can offer her.

Dastan is the local cunning man, a masterful forager, and the one to go to for medicinal herbs (Magery/1 (ceremonial), Naturalist-14, Herbalist-15).  He is a sardonic, sometimes sarcastic aging fellow with little tolerance for fools, but is one of the only villagers willing to take gold or valuables as payment.  Dastan also has magical powers on the hedge-witch level, mostly in simple illusions, communing with animals, finding lost items and minor scrying, but doing so takes a lot out of him.  The locals hold him in a superstitious awe, for they fear his curses.

A representative trader is “Master” Argelle (Merchant/Intelligence Analysis-14, Fast-Talk-15), who passes herself off as an alchemist, selling a medicinal tonic of her devising. Argelle’s Famous Tonic is touted to help what ails a person (although she doesn’t make specific, explicit claims that might come back to haunt her) and to promote general health and growth.  Her sales patter is masterful, entertaining and popular, and her demeanor is warm and caring.  Argelle runs a circuit, moving around the region in a loop taking about a season; she stops here at St. Chanan’s to rest up for a week at a time, not being as young as she used to be.  The Tonic is bitter herbs and honey with a stiff alcohol content, but her real purpose is as an agent of one of the warring border nations, scouting around the area, and bearing confidential messages for the nation’s intelligence apparat.


ADVENTURE HOOKS

* There are credible rumors that the war is about to resume.  Having accepted a few too many of those otherwise unsellable pieces of jewelry, weapons and magical trinkets, the villagers seek to hire the party with them as short-term mercenaries to stiffen the defenses.  The value of the goods they offer are roughly twice what the going rate for the mercenary work would be ... if the party survives to cash them in.

* One of the heirs approaches the party.  There’s been nothing to indicate that the secret vault beneath the donjon was ever found, either by the invaders or the villagers.  The heir is sure there’s portable treasure in there, and is willing to hand over a blueprint of the donjon indicating the right spot for a 50:50 split of whatever’s found.  How the party pulls it off is their business.  (How they will manage with the fact that the heir doesn't have an undisputed legal right to the goods, and that the other heirs will be on the warpath if they find out, is also their business.)

* The lawsuit’s been settled; the castle has a new legal owner.  While the new Lady of the manor wants to get her fief in order and is not unwilling (within her finite means) to help the villagers rebuild, they are all squatters and she wants them out of the fortification.  She offers to pay the party well to drive them out and keep them out until she and her entourage arrive.  A city-bred agent of the Lady will travel with the party to do the talking, and will prove supercilious and dismissive of “country folk” and their customs.

* A villager is dead certain that one of the party was in the attacking force that torched her home, laughing as her screaming family burned to death inside.  She means to make certain the PC is dead ... as cruelly as possible, however she can manage.

* A band of slavers/bandits thinks St. Chanan’s would make a very handy base of operations, and that they can just scoop up traders.  They’re either there and in control when the party arrives, or strikes when the party is there.

 

Designing A Fake Cult

As I’ve said before, RPGs generally suck at portraying religion.  My quote from seven years ago is that all most RPGs give us are variations of "Bunsgrabber is the God of Partying Down.  His alignment is Chaotic Horny.  He is depicted as a young man with a great tan, wearing cutoffs of purest gold.  His priests always wear sunshades and strange caps with horizontal visors pointing backwards, and his High Temple is at the coastal fort of Lauderdale." 

Don't forget the cool outfits and at least one hot cult leader.

Then you have the bullshit concept that latter editions of D&D pushed that it's possible to be a legitimate cleric, with legitimate healing and blessing and clerical powers, just by hooking up with a "philosophical concept" – in other words, a cheapass dodge for players who wanted to have the cool powers without having to follow any of those boring roleplaying constraints, follow any doctrine or dogma they didn't write themselves, or take a stand on anything.  And this goes a fair bit back: a player in M.A.R. Barker’s campaign in the early 70s reported that how his fellow players handled the religion-soaked environment of Empire of the Petal Throne was to throw gold at the temples and otherwise ignore them.

So it was surprising when a forum thread asked how one would go about designing a fake cult in a fantasy setting, and so many of the posters reacted with shock and horror.  Impossible! they said.  Everyone would Know!  Nonsense, said I.

I don't see, for instance, a single bit of difference, observable to a casual onlooker, between a priestess waving her hands in the air, shouting "May the great god Mitra grant us light!" and the room filling with light, and a wizard dressed in clerical vestments, waving her hands in the air, shouting "May the great god Bunsgrabber grant us light!" ... and casting a light spell.  If the paradigm of the common folk is that the gods grant their priests supernatural powers, well, a wizard can wear pseudo-clerical vestments, stand in a "temple" and work supernatural powers.

But, you say, how is the fake priest going to turn undead?  Easy.  "The great god Bunsgrabber is not a *weak* god, and He does not cowardly hope that the Unlife will just run away!  This is how Bunsgrabber deals with the Unlife!"  Cue fireball hitting the zombie dead center.

But, you say, how is the fake priest going to heal people?  Easy.  For one, you deter the casual and the unfaithful.  "The great god Bunsgrabber is not a whore god like all the rest!  He grants healing only to His sincere worshipers!"  There in one fell swoop you take care of 90% of the supplicants.  For the handful you genuinely want to heal -- or the rich folk you want to think of themselves as True Believers -- just to make the scam look good, you invite them to drink from the Sacred Chalice upon which the Great God Bunsgrabber has breathed His mighty breath.  (Cue wind spell.)  That's the chalice you spike with a healing potion.

But, you say, how is the fake priest going to raise the dead?  Easy.  You don't.  "What is this blasphemy you speak?  Do you not know that the great god Bunsgrabber has vouchsafed your beloved dead a seat on His Great Comfy Waterbed, attended by the requisite seven Angels In Spandex?  How can you be so wicked as to wish them to return to this world of suffering and pot bellies?"

But, you say, how is the fake priest going to bless people.  Hm.  Pretty much the same as clergy bless people today worldwide, however much we have no objective proof that gods exist.  Nonetheless, billions of people seek out those blessings, and believe in their efficacy when they receive them.

But, you say, won’t the other gods object?  I don’t see it, myself.  The frequently parroted shibboleth of omnipresent, interventionist deities bears surprisingly little resemblance to common gameplay, even in D&D circles. Honestly, how often have you seen gods physically appear in your own campaigns?  And in how many campaigns are there two dozen, three dozen (... more?) gods?  How many schmuck peasants keep track of them all, and how would they do so in any event?  Not like they could try to pull up an article for Bunsgrabber on Wikipedia ...

And even so, speaking of that: here’s an example IN the modern age, where factchecking is at everyone’s fingertips.  Take a look at the whole Church of Satan deal and its offshoots.  Many really do believe in them.  Yet Anton LaVey said openly in The Satanic Bible that to a degree, it was all hooey: "Satan" really didn't exist as a real being, LaVey wasn't shy about admitting it, and all the mysticism and trappings LaVey put in the book was pretty much out of his entirely defensible position that mankind has a demonstrable love for mysticism and trappings.  A philosophical concept, huh?  Guess LaVey would've made it as a D&D cleric.  But I digress ...

Nah, this'd be a slam dunk in most any realistic fantasy setting.  (And if fantasy settings were somehow immune to grifters, how do thieves manage to survive?)

Tidbits: Game Of Thrones

And in another one of my rants from the forums ...

(ForumDood: Of course, the TV version decided to at least double the apparent size of it, AND make it scalable by random men with no particular training or experience scaling sheer ice walls of ridiculous height (LOL). Of course, the TV show also likes to show impossible castle/tower/city heights of crazy exaggerated height. "The throne room is a day's climb up...")

Well, but think about it.  If you follow Game Of Thrones, you just have to take suspension of disbelief and kick it into the holler.  Railroad very obviously didn't give a damn about logistics, distances, common sense or a lot of things.  

Gives a damn about the T-shirt sales, though, I bet!

They march gigantic armies across continental distances without giving the slightest thought to how long that actually takes or the logistics train one needs.  They have twenty guys actually capture and HOLD Winterfell, even when that force could be rolled by local peasants with hunting bows and grain flails and Northerners aren't described as being cowardly bunnies.  Why the North needs to conquer King's Landing (thousands of miles from their center of supply) is never adequately explained, when they just need to hold the Neck.  There's not enough game in all that ice and snow to feed Mance Rayder's army, not by a factor of 50.  100 grain wagons a day to alleviate the hunger in King's Landing?  Never mind the distance from Dorne to KL (which makes the notion absurd on the face), a city that size polishes off five hundred tons of food per day.  (And a little slip of a 10-year-old who's just had her ribcage caved in takes out an undead giant?  The Mother of All Critical Hits, to be sure.)

And OMG, the Wall.  I would cheerfully undertake to defend the Wall with 200 guys against the massed armies of all the world.  They can starve below while we drink tea and play pinochle, because that's a formidable technical climb for expert mountaineers (and where in the merry hell did the wildlings get that expertise AND the steel crampons?), and with the level of exhaustion that would involve, one ten-year-old with a good head for heights and a baseball bat could deal with everyone who made it in a quarter-mile's worth of wall.