Intergalactic Flow

Normally I’m bad at earnestly acknowledging that a thing I made is good, and would rather point to my next idea and talk about how that’s going to be better. Mythic flipped that on its head. It’s been out for over a year and I look back on it proudly, happy with what it does. I’ll say it: I think it’s pretty good!

Which is a real pain when it comes to working on Intergalactic.

There’s an element of “difficult second album” even though Mythic wasn’t my first game. Its success has brought new eyes to my work, and I’m spending moments of every day spiritually galvanising myself for the inevitable... “yeah, this is okay, but I wish it was more like Mythic Bastionland”.

So I throw the baby out with the bathwater. The baby is fine, really, he lives in the book you already have, but we need that bathtub so we can play something else. It’ll still be fun, but it’ll be different for sure.

For one thing, the workflow. 

The Mythic flow, zoomed out, goes like this:

1. Before starting the campaign, spend a while building your realm, maybe reading ahead for the Myths you’ve chosen from the book
2. The knights wander around your realm and the Myths tick along like unreliable clockwork, creating a chaotic series of events for the players to get involved with
3. Between sessions you do a little prep to tidy up your notes and deal with any time changes that occur, but you’re largely good to go using your previous prep

There’s also the workflow within a session, but I’m working in session-to-session scale here. 

One of the points of difference for Intergalactic is that this will be my first RPG that comes with a fleshed out setting with specific places and NPCs. This is a starship with 12 decks, 144 compartments, 1,000 crew (only 80 of which are detailed, sorry) and 72 planets each with 6 locations and 6 contacts. The dream was that this gives you enough to sit down and run a campaign right from the book, no pre-launch prep required!

Well, outside of games that focus on group improvisation, I find zero to be a bit of a myth. Even if it does exist, I don’t think it’s reasonable for what I’m looking to get out of the game.

So what does that zoomed-out Intergalactic flow look like?

1. Before starting the campaign, read up on the starship in the book, and choose a world where the planet will begin. Maybe glance over some of the candidates for the next destination of the ship if you want to plan ahead. Choose if you’re going to start with the ship in Transit, the action starting on the ship itself, or in Layover, where the players will be sent out on Boat Leave to explore a star system independently.
2. The characters serve on the ship, dealing with incidents that occur, or go out on a boat exploring and working while the ship is in cooldown. 
3. Between sessions you tidy up your notes and read ahead to wherever the ship is heading, if that’s where things ended. Maybe you prepare a bit of bespoke content for the next game, or stick with running from the book as best you can. 

While step 1 might seem easier than building a realm from scratch, it’s just a different kind of prep. It’s less time consuming in terms of preparing materials, but I think the setting of Intergalactic demands a little more on-boarding for the referee to understand what they need to run the game. In losing the dreamlike fairytale medieval world of Mythic, we’re now in a setting that demands more concrete answers, even if the Stars themselves are enigmatic.

Step 2 is where we get back to this idea of the game “running itself”, obviously a bit of hyperbole. I think when people say this they mean that the demands placed on the knights combined with the momentum of the myths means that the game feels like it’s usually moving toward a climax of sorts, even if the referee doesn’t know in which direction it will go. The pacing of Intergalactic is a little different. I’m optimistic that little stories and character arcs will emerge from the chaos, but it’s less focused than Mythic, partly by the very nature of its scope. As written, I can foresee more ways to have an unsatisfying session with this game, which is something I’m working to balance through the guidance and tools given to the referee.

Step 3 is where I think things will run more smoothly. As the referee begins to understand how the ship and the stars work, there should be very little required before the next session, even if time has passed. 

This leaves us with something more closely resembling a traditional big sandbox, the very thing I wanted to squeeze into Mythic and make work in a different way. But this, too, should work in a different way. Different to Mythic, but also different to other sandbox games. 

After all, why go to space unless you’re going where no one, yourself included, has gone before?

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If you want to support my blog, podcasts, and video content then head over to my Patreon.

Breaking the Wave

One of the big non-rules changes I’ve made to Intergalactic, just added in the latest update, is a downgrade of galactic communication. So far it’s been fun to play with, and creates a groundwork that dodges some of the issues with a game with abundant long range communication.

Communication

Space is not a silent void, but is loud and thick with the stuff of the stars, rippling in the wake of the god-lanterns. This renders wireless communication almost impossible. 

Short Distance - Wires, Pipes, and Loudspeakers

A physical wire between terminals allows jittery data, audio, and video transmission, limited only by the length and integrity of the wire. 

Some prefer the blunter approach of a pipe between two locations, allowing muffled but reliable communication over a surprising distance. 

Loudspeakers are the final means of mass communication, when the message needs to reach  those who are not waiting at a terminal or pipe. 

Long Distance - Signals

Communication between vessels, or between an orbital and a landing, use the same methods as listed above with some adaptations. 

A combination of high intensity lamps and horns allows for exchange a common set of signals to be exchanged. 

To hold a conversation, reinforced wires can be reeled between two distant points or, more commonly, a representative is sent in person. 

Interstellar Distance - Beacons

Starpath operate an underspace network of Beacons, megastructures that can transmit and receive secure text communications between distant star systems. Messages between beacons carry a 24 hour delay, regardless of distance. Access is highly restricted by Starpath.

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This post was originally sent as a reward to all Patreon supporters, and is released freely on this site the week after its original publication.

If you want to support my blog, podcasts, and video content then head over to my Patreon.

Workflow Eats Features for Breakfast

One of the most positive pieces of feedback I’ve had about Mythic Bastionland is that “it runs itself”. 

This was a big thing I wanted to achieve with the game, so it’s awesome that I’ve had so many people say this specific phrase to me. 

At a recent con, somebody said something that really stuck with me. They said “it ran itself once I understood the workflow”. 

Workflow. A word I hadn’t heard used toward an RPG before. While I might wince at the idea of “work” in a game, I regularly hear it used in an area that’s just as playful.

That’s right, it’s time for another tortured music analogy. 

There’s a lot of crossover between TTRPG-people and synth-people. At our lowest point, we both believe that buying just one more thing will open up the gates to heaven that we’ve been imagining within our hobby. If I buy that campaign box set I will run a five year saga with my friends. If I buy one more drum machine I’ll have the perfect home studio setup and finally find my sound. 

Whether it’s games or grooveboxes, I’m not here to tell you that gear doesn’t matter, but I think it matters in different ways that are worth considering separately. In particular, with music gear, I’m more interested in workflow than features.

Workflow is, in short, how you operate the piece of gear. Which settings have a knob to turn, and which require navigating a menu screen? How easily can I program a sequence or is it easier to just play it live? Does this thing come with presets or do I have to make stuff from scratch? 

Now, believe it or not, there’s no right answer to any of those (a lie, knobs always beat menus), but each of them will affect the way you use the instrument, which in turn affects the music you make. Modular synthesis is an entire niche-within-a-niche that promises limitless sound opportunities, but its extremely specific workflow tends to produce a very specific type of music. Always? No. Often? Well... yeah (sorry, modular guys!).

This isn’t necessarily about making things simpler or more accessible, just considering different options for how each part of the experience is presented and interacted with, including which parts sit partially or fully concealed, and what choices are given for how to interact with each part. 

Meanwhile, features are the things you could generally reel off as a spec list. Three fully analogue oscillators with each with six shapeable waveforms, hardsync, PWM, ring modulation, cross mod, into a resonant filter with high-pass, low-pass and band-pass plus three ADSR envelopes and LFOs assigned via mod matrix all controlled by a Euclidean sequencer, on board plate and spring reverb unit and so on. 

Now does that mean features don’t matter? Of course not. As much as it was written like a joke, that synth sounds great! I love shaping a wave and assigning an LFO as much as the next guy, but how I do that matters just as much as the fact I can do that. 

I have Synth A that has an LFO I can assign to modulate one of three destinations (bear with me, you don’t need to actually understand this) using a simple switch. I have Synth B that has two LFOs I can assign to many more locations, but doing so involves using buttons to navigate a menu with a tiny LCD screen. Synth B can make sounds impossible with Synth A, but Synth A lets me play in a way that Synth B obstructs. 

Dragging ourselves back to RPGs, I’ve definitely played in games where I feel like the workflow is preventing me from enjoying, or even accessing, some of its headline features. Mythic offers a comparatively narrow feature list, but my goal is that the workflow is encouraging people to actually play with them, perhaps even shoving them encouragingly into that playspace. 

So will Intergalactic Bastionland “run itself” like this? It’s one of my goals for the system, but I think the workflow will feel different, something I’ll discuss a little more next week.

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This post was originally sent as a reward to all Patreon supporters, and is released freely on this site the week after its original publication.

If you want to support my blog, podcasts, and video content then head over to my Patreon.

Realplay

We honour the real when we make a decision in service of the integrity of the in-game reality. 

We honour the play when we make a decision in service of the group having fun at the table. 

We don’t need to choose. We can plan so that both of these sides are honoured, conjuring realplay to the table, an experience that is a fun game based within a world that feels real. 

Honouring Real

We honour the real when we do what feels realistic, even if it’s not all that fun. The dragon breathes fire, enough to fill the cavern. 200d6 damage, okay you’re dead. Well yeah, nobody could just stand there and take that. 

Honouring Play

We honour the play when we do what feels fun, even if it doesn’t feel all that realistic. The dragon breathes fire. What’s your HP? 31? Okay it does... 5d6 damage, rolling 16. Flame washes over you but I guess you get mostly behind a rock. You’re down to half HP! What do you do?

Pursuing Realplay

Realplay is what we pursue when we try, in every element of the game, to honour both the real and the play. This can be considered in every part of the process, from system design to worldbuilding to adventure design to running the game at the table. 

It’s as simple as abandoning the false dichotomy between the real and the play, and seeking the solution that honours both. 

Going back to our strawdragon example, both are obviously meant to be unsatisfying. Getting burned up before you can react makes sense if we imagine a real, colossal dragon, but it doesn’t feel like much fun if it happens out of nowhere. However, this excerpt could be a part of realplay if the deadliness of this dragon had been properly signposted, and the players had plenty of choices that didn’t involve going head to head with this titanic threat. 

Losing half your HP to this devastating attack feels much more appropriate for a game, but it makes that dragon feel less like a real, gigantic threat that would be a true monster of this world. However, this could also have been part of realplay if we’re treating HP like Hit Protection or Guard, and found a way to narrate it a bit more convincingly. Likewise, if we know the dragon is unlikely to burn you away with a single burst of flame, perhaps we adjust how that dragon is described in the world. Are they old, losing their incendiary vigour? Does he always try to capture adventurers alive so he can mess with them before he eats them? 

Remember, we aren’t bound by the laws of our own reality. Mythic Bastionland is full of examples where the fairytale-logic of the world operates on an internal consistency that serves to make the game more fun. 

Now this post is at risk of just rehashing ICI Doctrine, but the main point I want to remember is that there are always two masters to please, and they are not mutually exclusive. If a decision only pleases one of these masters, then look for another way forward.

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This post was originally sent as a reward to all Patreon supporters, and is released freely on this site the week after its original publication.

If you want to support my blog, podcasts, and video content then head over to my Patreon.

Starpath - Archive of Cosmic Truth

From the inscription “The Four Wonders” commonly displayed at Starpath facilities. 

Wording and attribution varies between systems. 

We built temples when we saw the stars. We watched each other from afar, the truth further still.

We built libraries when we understood. The stars were alive, and they showed us the path.

We built lighthouses when our home was lost. Beacons that kept us as one, never again cast apart.

Now we build tombs. Not for bodies, but knowledge. All truths must be shared, but all have their time. 

The archives will preserve us. 

The truth will outlive us.

The stars will guide us. 

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This post was originally sent as a reward to all Patreon supporters, and is released freely on this site the week after its original publication.

If you want to support my blog, podcasts, and video content then head over to my Patreon.

Justice Union - Collective Vigilance

It’s a tricky thing, justice. Best method I’ve found is making sure everyone feels both ends of the stick at some point in their life, just to give them faith that it’s all fair and equal. If you think justice is against you, we’re here to see you right. If you think justice is on your side it means you’re overdue a crack of the whip. 

The point of the union is that the people decide what’s right. All people, not just a gang of enforcers or a parliament of lawmakers. That’s why we have universal membership.

Being right isn’t enough, you’ve got to make the wrong thing right. Enough of us want someone dead, we can make that happen. That’s why we have universal jurisdiction. 

Everyone’s a member, and everyone’s a valid target.

That all sounds very sinister. It’s not all about taking out bad actors. We put food in bowls by putting people in work by pressuring the fatcats to make more jobs. Pushing the captain to hire a full crew. Efficiency is a waste and profit a missed opportunity. A big heap of nothing compared to seeing people living their best lives, earning their way, looking out for one another. 

While membership is universal, of course we adhere to the standard status tiers. 

Status

Blacklisted: Enemies of the people. Must immediately submit to custody or face wild justice. 

Flagged: Members under review, whether through suspicious behaviour or lack of enthusiasm for the cause. Ineligible for work where registered members are available. . 

Registered: The minimum expected level of membership, entered into upon reaching an age of working, no formal signup required. Duty bound to serve fellow people and report wrongful action. 

Certified: Those who carry out righteous action at the command of the union. Voices and hands of the people. 

Sponsored: Those who have served the union well and earned the use of universal jurisdiction. Action carried out by these heroes must be backed by the people.

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This post was originally sent as a reward to all Patreon supporters, and is released freely on this site the week after its original publication.

If you want to support my blog, podcasts, and video content then head over to my Patreon.

Konkord - Peace Operations

[A former Konkord Star Major, name since redacted, in response to an audience question at the Windfall Orbital State of the Dragon Conference. Recording provided by FXT Free Bulletin.]

Well, I’ve never been asked such a brave question by such a scholar of the stars.

[there is a pause, the panel host beginning to speak, before being cut off by the Star Major in a mocking voice]

“They’re just mercenaries and arms dealers with a vested interest in stoking war under the flag of peace. I see through their machinations.”

[scattered laughter from the audience, the Star Major stands]

Get this into your hollow head.

Konkord does not get to have machinations. We are in the business of stopping machinations. 

Business, yes. 

We fight for those who can afford us. We sell weapons to warmongers. We get paid to legitimise atrocities. Your currency is minted from starlight, ours from blood and ash. 

[there is movement off stage, the Star Major casting a hard look before turning back to the audience, speaking with more urgency]

And it is a righteous war chest. If that is the cost of Konkord, it is the price of peace, a debt we can never truly repay. 

We hold the guns so you can hold your techtile and read about some skirmish between nobles in the Falcon system. So you can lament how awfully brutal security has gotten at Arsewash Orbital since Konkord took over from those brave local militia. 

We keep those wars in your bulletin so they aren’t in your home. We keep those yokels in Konkord uniforms so they don’t get riled up into a crusade by some bloody-mouthed politician.

So yes, you saw through the name. You saw through the dream.

We DON’T make peace. 

We CAN’T make peace. 

But we make war better for everyone.

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This post was originally sent as a reward to all Patreon supporters, and is released freely on this site the week after its original publication.

If you want to support my blog, podcasts, and video content then head over to my Patreon.