Tol's Tirades

(This is a post from my old Blogspot, dated July 19th, 2022)

The cover art for Free League's Forbidden Lands

My favourite back-end engine / system of any RPG has got to be Free League's Year Zero Engine; specifically the 3-colour variant. It's an ingenious way to merge narrative, tactics, exploration, management, and character mechanics into something simple and quick, yet strangely simulative. A great example of this very specific variant of the Year Zero Engine is the Forbidden Lands RPG - my first foray into Free League's fantastic game catalogue.

I first ran Forbidden Lands with a small group of only 2 players, one of whom created a travelling merchant that went by the striking name of "Morshu" (yes, that Morshu), whilst the other played "Garm"; a much more serious character to contrast the obviously goofy partnership that needed to flourish between the two party members. Garm was a cold-blooded wolfkin fighter, whilst Morshu was a rather spherical half-elf merchant. This blogpost will tell the story of the first 1-2 sessions, and what fuzzy memories I have of what occurred within them - and I'll also explain some interesting ideas the system has on display too.

Morshu. Yes, this is what I have to work with.

The Blood Mist. A catastrophic event caused by the careless sorcerers of the past wherein demonic entities were summoned from another realm alongside a thick, crimson fog. The Raven Lands, a once (questionably) peaceful area was completely covered and surrounded, and news quickly spread that anyone of whom stepped foot into its horrifying smog would never step foot out of it again. Was it the mist killing the people, or was it the creatures lurking deep within it's concealment?

Relatably as of late, this terrifying time caused the people to stay inside and to not venture too far from home if possible; the only exceptions being the Wolfkin, a race of humanoid creatures that bore canine heads; some say it was because they were born of demons themselves. Wolfkin could venture into the mist with relative ease, though only within the forests - if they dared venture into the open plains they'd be torn apart just the same as everyone else. The Blood Mist lingered and lingered and lingered, for a very, very long time...

Garm, our wolfkin fighter.

Until now. Our story begins only a few weeks after the Blood Mist had been lifted, and seemingly everything once surrounded by it began to flourish and live again. What remained was an overgrown world filled with relics and treasures of old; but the lands were unexplored, and so no-one knows exactly how safe it is to venture forth still. Desperate, many folk didn't particularly care for the dangers. They got out. They were free. After so long, a full century of waiting, or for most the very first time in their lives, they could wander their homeland once again - and rumours spread of treasures left by the unlucky folk who first discovered the danger of the crimson fog.

The party began in a rather uninteresting plane, long grass sprouting around small, winding desire paths made by both folk and animal that came before. Morshu had always dreamed of being the most well known and respected salesman in the Raven Lands, and by The Nightwalker; if these rumours about the artifacts of old still being out there were true, then they'd fit well upon the shelves of Morshu's grand shop. Garm, hired by Morshu, led the way, knowing the world well thanks to his heritage, as well as being a mighty fine swordsman for whenever a blade is required.

 After setting up a few camps and hiking across the way, it didn't take long until they came across a few other opportunistic travellers; bandits, to be exact. After a rather firm, uh, "request", for the travelling duo's food and gold. One swift glimpse of these rough looking characters would unveil their own struggles; they were starving, completely malnourished, no matter how hard they tried to hide it with their tough act.

Either way, this clear act of hostility got Garm brandishing his blade at a rather suspiciously bloodthirsty pace, and combat commenced. This is where I'll get a little nerdy about the system, as it took both players and I off guard at how quickly the encounter was over and done with. You see, in Forbidden Lands you don't have a flat stat for your "Health" or "Hit Points", instead you only have your core attributes.

Each point you have in these attributes represents a 6-sided die you roll when you perform an action that calls for that specific check. Any 6s you roll are successes. However, going back to the comment about the lack of a health track, this system simulates pain and injury through quite literally using those attributes as your health. Get hit by a club? Your strength goes down. Over-exert yourself? Your agility goes down. Terrified? Your wits go down. Depressed? Your empathy goes down. With every step, your chances to succeed go down, as you use less dice to perform those specific attribute-related actions. The scariest part? Even though you can evolve and progress your character to make them more powerful, these attributes never change. Your health never bloats. You get more options, but you're just as easy to put down as you are when you've just started out.

The attributes of Forbidden Lands. Yes, 6 is the absolute maximum. Yes, that means you'll have barely anything in any other attributes if you do that.

Now, a 6 on a 6-sided die? Anyone who's played Arkham Horror before will tell you that sounds like horrible odds, no matter your amount of dice. You do have skills (red dice) and gear (black dice) that can also come into play and help you out, but one particularly interesting mechanic is the ability to push your roll. You can choose to set aside all your 6s and 1s, and re-roll everything else. Great right? Well, every 1 you roll on your base attributes (white dice) damage your attribute as if you've been hit, simulating you pushing yourself too hard, whilst every 1 you roll on your gear (black dice) will damage your equipment, so your very blade may snap off of it's hilt mid-combat! Skills (red dice) are the only ones that don't inflict a bad condition when you roll a 1.

Now, you're probably thinking that that sounds like a horribly punishing push-your-luck mechanic, and it is a bit; however, another great thing comes of it. Every time you unfortunately damage yourself due to pushing, you gain a willpower point per the amount of damage you took. Willpower is a tracked stat you can spend to perform some extraordinary actions and even cast magical spells! So yeah, it's mean, but risking it is certainly tempting...

Anyways, that tangent went on for too long. Swords were swung and insults were hurled, and in only 2 rounds or so, it was done. However, it was done in a rather peculiar manner. You may be thinking a lot of blood was shed within that swift bit of action and that the underfed corpses of bandits painted the wild plants a deep shade of red, but you'd be wrong. You see, whilst people did indeed get hit and struck, some falling to the floor suffering from small injuries, it was all over thanks to one particularly interesting weapon - Morshu's sharp tongue.

You see, the leader was so down on his luck, and his posse was so depressed and desperate, that one mere insult from the unusually wide half-elf sent him spiralling, dropping to his hands and knees and crying, apologising as he'd gained a new Mental Horror - a personality shift. The bandit didn't want to do this anymore, and his fellow thieves surrendered as he apologised, following their leader to the end. Morshu, pleased with this, graciously donated some food to the group, forever immortalising him as a kind man in the eyes of this group, and forming a story that will spread across the Raven Lands swiftly, no doubt about it; gaining the merchant a reputation point, something that helps notify the GM which characters recognise him from the rumours in the future.

The Sharp Tongue talent and all it's ranks. The double swords are successes.

After that escapade, the party ventured forth towards a small fort in the distance. As they neared their destination, great, dark clouds rolled over the sky and hard rain fell upon the party. The cold spread throughout their bodies fast. They needed to get to this fort, and quickly. The great wooden gates were worn and unkempt, a century gone by without any care left the hinges rotted and the great wall around it crumbling. Conversation could be heard from inside, and as our beloved duo pushed their way inside, eyes glared towards the newly arrived individuals, and weapons were drawn. "Who goes there? What business do you have in Rust Keep?" a well-armed soldier spoke, biting down on every word that escaped his helmet.

After a short while attempting to convince the guards that they were safe and simply adventurers needing somewhere to stay, the guards cautiously accepted their new squatters - but only for a day, and a favour in return. Two cylindrical buildings rested within the walls of this fortress, but the guards seemingly only use one. The other building has been used in the past, but odd noises and a generally discomforting atmosphere had spread throughout it's decievingly cosy interior. Garm and Morshu can stay here tonight, as long as they investigate.

First though, the group decided to hunt and forage for some extra food for themselves and the soldiers to make a good impression upon them, and through some extra, rather well worded manipulation, some of the soldiers agreed to come along and aid them in their investigation, and Garm was even given some extra equipment to use by one soldier by the name of John, a polite man of whom was happy to help our travellers out.

The deafening silence hit like a brick as soon as the party and their soldier followers set foot into the building. Eerie. That's the only word that could describe such an atmosphere, as if this very building was once alive and breathing in the past, and all that life had been snuffed out of it. Something is definitely wrong here. No investigation was needed to find that out.

The ground floor had barely anything left; it was easy to tell that the soldiers once slept here; bedrolls and fur rags were abandoned on the ground still - just from a sound? Such swift abandonment seemed a little overkill for just a sound. Slowly but surely the ragtag group made their way up to the first floor, and awaiting them there was something truly terrifying; unorganised storage. Boxes and barrels piled up rather dangerously atop one another with rotten and rusted materials still left within.

Rummaging around in this room revealed the ugly truth however; as perhaps the rotten smell wasn't just the stored food going off, but perhaps it was more to do with the decaying corpses hidden behind the crates. Their bodies were covered in growths and doused in disgusting liquids that had seeped from the plethora of boils that had completely covered their bodies prior to their death. What's worse was that after a quick inspection, they started to move. 

Some examples of the undead from the Gamemaster's Guide.

Deep lacerations, decapitation and bolts through the skull. Combat was swift, creatures were broken in single hits and our party was smart with their decisions. Before I continue on, I want to nerd out a bit once more to talk about death in the system, and why I love it. This system is brutal, as you can already envision by just reading the fact that your health never bloats, but something that's really interesting is that it aids in the narrative even if characters get beaten to hell and back. 

Every time you reach 0 in an attribute, you break. If you break due to a physical injury, you roll on a big critical injuries table. This table ranges from broken toes, to severed limbs and of course, instant (or near instant) death. The interesting thing here is that the latter is rare. Breaking is common, but it's very uncommon that you'll just instantly die; instead it gives you a lasting effect that will linger for a while (or sometimes forever) and warp the narrative in interesting ways, as well as open up new roleplaying opportunities (especially with mental horrors, which is a table you roll on when you break from mental damage). If you do get broken, any intelligent creature will find it hard to put an end to your life. Coup de grace is not an easy action to pull off. You have to fail an empathy check and spend willpower to kill someone when they're on the ground, still writhing. There are ways to build more sadistic characters who don't follow those same rules, but for the most part, this is a super clever way of making the danger of dying a lot more interesting.

Anyways, rant over - back to the story: Every one of the undead humans that once perished here had perished once again - hopefully for good, this time. After exchanging some thanks and lugging the disgusting bodies down and out of the fort carefully, the party rested up and slept around a small fire lit in the centre of the fortress alongside the soldiers. The night passed by smoothly, and in the morning the party gave their farewells and thanks, as did the soldiers. John let Garm keep the equipment he'd given him the day prior, making him the only human Garm has ever appreciated the company of.

That's where it all ended. We finished up the game and calculated the player's experience points, which I'll happily nerd out for a bit again to explain: Experience is handed out at the end of every session, and can be spent throughout a quarter-day (6 hours) to practice skills or pick up new talents. Experience is calculated by answering yes or no to a series of questions asked by the GM. 

The experience-calculating questionnaire.

This is incredibly clever, and really encourages more activities than just killing creatures to get stronger. You may notice some oddities there too, those of which I haven't explained yet. Strongholds are home-bases you can make / capture to have a safe place to return to and manage. You can fill it with workers and all sorts of functions to help your party out. Your pride is a very specific skill your character prides themselves on. If the specific situation ever comes up and you fail your check, you can roll a big 12-sided artifact die atop that once per session. If you fail, you lose your pride in performing that task, and have to come up with a new pride for the next session. A dark secret is a specific part of your backstory that still haunts you, and the GM can throw things into the session to set it off and mess with the party. Suffering gets you experience though, so that's nice, I guess?

Before I finish up this post, I want to reveal a twist. I am a Game Master through and through, even if I adore being on the player side of RPGs nothing beats the thrill of putting all your creativity down on the table right in front of your friends and hoping to invoke emotion with every word you utter - whether it be intrigue from narrative description, or (more commonly) laughter from stupid ideas coming into fruition. That being said, I didn't do anything for this session. Not one thing was prepared, it was all riffed. This entire system holds itself up without even needing to prepare anything. Don't get me wrong, you absolutely can (and probably should), but this entire adventure was randomised to an insane degree, and it worked insanely well somehow! All the encounters, areas, hindrances, and even the weather events were randomly generated. My players were essentially taking part in a roguelike on the tabletop. I still run in this randomly generated world of mine and am confident it'll hold up, but I do run prepared scenarios within it now at least.

Rust Keep, the randomly generated fortress our party explored. See where I pulled the encounter ideas from?

I love this system. If you want a brutal, yet heavy-on-the-narrative RPG then this is a fantastic one to go for. It's great for pretty much everything. Usually with narrative games the combat is lackluster, but it'll even entertain the combat fans with its interesting systems (Forbidden Lands even has a strange, optional hidden-card combat system, which is pretty unique, albeit I haven't played with that yet.) Fantasy not your style? This isn't the only Year Zero Engine game either. There's a whole lot. Post-apocalyptic gonzo goodness, more serious, war-focused post-apocalyptic settings, Arabian Nights in space, 1800s Scandinavian horror, hell - even Alien; an official setting for fans of the movies.

(This is a post from my old blogspot, dated May 29th, 2022.)

I played my first ever game of Advanced Dungeons & Dragons 2nd Edition recently. I'm fairly experienced on the matter of RPGs in general but had never touched the original "Advanced" line of D&D; barring the plethora of CRPGs that were released under the editions' rulesets.

I had picked up a few books and oddities from the era; the Players Handbook, Dungeon Master's Guide, a few Complete Handbooks and an odd starter's box set called First Quest. First Quest came with a CD. That's right. A CD. As soon as I read that I knew I had to run whatever goofy, cheesy stuff that was contained within that box; and so far, I'm certainly not left disappointed. The voice acting was goofy, the music cheesy, and it was wonderful. First time I've ever ran a session with a CD holding the reigns sometimes that's for sure.

The party consisted of strange characters straight off the bat. I let the players have all the freedom they wanted to make characters because it was just a session to learn the system; not to mention the high likelyhood they'd just end up dead anyways. We had a Drow Wizard modeled after The Elder Scrolls' very own Dagoth Ur, a Halfling Cleric of whom was the only normal one in the party, and finally a Fremlin Assassin; which from the race choice alone already made him my most loathed of the bunch. I mean seriously look at these horrible things:

The story was simple. An old but powerful wizard sent an experienced mercenary off to an old, ruined tomb to stop an Ogre from getting his hands on the Orb of Dragonkind - a magical artefact that could turn the wielder into a full on dragon! Issue was that the guy never came back, and so a group needed hiring to see if the poor fella was still alive; and so the ragtag group of odd characters was formed, and they set off to the Tomb of Demara.

Orc tracks and signs of combat paved the path towards the old ruins, and after walking for around half an hour, they finally stood before the great gates of the ruined temple. After the strenuous task of lifting up the metal gate (acted out on the CD, of course), the group made their way into the first room - a rather empty entrance hall lit up with torches still spitting embers to this day. Someone's been here recently.

The first door is opened, and the party is greeted to a pair of Gnolls. They growl, and demand the party ahead of them surrender right away. The party have other plans. In a beautiful display of the lack of experience with the strange initiative system within AD&D (You say what you're going to do, then roll initiative as a group); the group made rather small decisions and inadvertently invited a free strike from one of the hyaenid humanoids, taking the cleric down to half health in one slash - and it could've been much worse. Eventually the system's quirks had imprinted into the newfound playstyle of the party, and they started to fight back. The Fremlin flew around one enemy shortly after tricking them with a fake surrender, backstabbing him for massive damage. The cleric shuffled up near some debris on the floor, planning on shoving a creature into it - but before he had a chance, the Gnoll was hit in the back of the head with a sling bullet from the wizard hiding behind the door, knocking him straight into the pit of debris. The odds were in the party's favour now, and eventually after taking time to learn some new mechanics mid-combat, they struck down their enemies and felt stronger because of it.

Beautiful, badly worn Tapestries etched into leather adorned the walls, and were swiftly taken by the party. This would eventually lead to a lot of experience and gold - as treasures give both in this edition. The Gnolls had nothing but heavily rusted weaponry and hide armour that was both in horrible condition and certainly too large for any party members to wear. A large structural beam that had fallen into the debris was removed and held by the Drow; of whom was certainly planning something to do with that item. 

The party then made their way down to the southern-most unopened door in the room - and inside lay a strange sight. Small, humanoid rat-dog creatures with scales beneath their scraggy fur, they chattered about, fighting one another until eventually noticing the odd group outside their door, completely oblivious to the sounds of combat in the room next door. Their eyes met the party's own - Kobolds, the very old-school design of them anyways. Much like the late, and much larger Gnolls that greeted the party in the first room, the kobolds brought their own rusted weaponry up into the air, pointed towards the party, shouting for them to surrender in their high-pitched, rather unhinged voices. The party however decided that these creatures seemed a little on the easily-manipulated side - and so they spoke. 

After a short conversation, the kobolds unveiled that they're much more afraid of the big "odor" by the name of "Bonegnasher", a huge creature somewhere in this temple. They offer another way out, some gold or some ale to satiate themselves. Maybe, just maybe, they'll let the party slip past if they did. The fremlin, however, one-upped the offer by speaking of his very own "Magic Sand". The small, magical and rather gross pixie-esque creature lifted the lid of a small chest he carried, revealing it to be completely full of glittering, golden sand. The halfling, surprised, reprimanded the fremlin, stating that it could be useful to them and advising not to waste it on the kobolds. Though many of the creatures eyes lit up and tails wagged - the leader slapped the overly-excited rat-dogs. "What does it even do? You think we're stupid enough to fall for that?" he snarls, acting as tough as he could despite his tail wagging; equally as excited to have whatever it is as the other kobolds. 

"When consumed, this magical sand can make you turn completely invisible to all big 'Odor' creatures named 'Bonegnasher'." the fremlin spoke as disappointment painted itself across the halfling's face. "That sounds like it'd be really useful for us, you know?" the halfling spoke, a little frustrated with this decision. "You can get some too, don't worry." the fremlin whispered back. This extremely specific magical item description lifted the dust from the stone floor from the speed of each tail wagging. The kobolds decided to gather together and discuss, and after about 5 seconds passed, the not-so-bright creatures accepted the deal. Within an instant they were fighting over the tiny handfuls of sand they were given and rushing into the corners of the room to swallow down the sand. The adventurers used this as an opportunity to take some items from the room unnoticed whilst the halfling forcibly swallowed his own handful of sand he was given, withholding the urge to cough it up. After that, the adventurers quietly closed the door - and the structural plank of wood was placed in front of it to bar the kobolds inside before they realise that all they've done is dehydrate themselves by eating entire handfuls of completely normal, coarse and grainy sand - completely unaware that it would have no effect, the only way to find out is to test it out. The halfling, still choking slightly, needed to be informed after the fact - the fremlin's mischieviousness most certainly unveiling itself.

After a brief period of listening to the awe-inspiring sounds of a halfling coughing up sand, the party decided it was time to advance a bit more into the temple, opening up the door to the East, unveiling a run down yet clearly once-beautiful chapel within. Something hissed towards the party. In front of the alter stood a lizard on his hind legs, wearing nothing but loose leather rags. In it's raspy, sibilance-heavy voice performed in a wonderfully cheesy way on the CD, it spoke, threatening the party before moving in without hesitation, aiming to kill. Weapons at the ready, the party sought a plan out. The halfling closed the door and moved, the Wizard prepared to fire a stone towards the creature as soon as it unveiled itself, and the fremlin stood up front, ready to juke and get a back stab - knowing full well of it's own immunity to non-magical weapons (yes, the fremlin race is completely immune to non-magical weapons). The lizard barged in and was met with a barrage of attacks, but before the halfling could attempt anything, the creature whispered terrifying words into the room's damp air, and his body couldn't do anything but run for it's life. After a few more hits were thrown, the hissing lizardman turned to his backstabber and placed a hand upon him, sending pain throughout his body. Despite his immunities, the fremlin with 6 health was met with 5 damage, nearly killing him. As luck would have it, the next turn the party would win initiative oncemore and manage to beat down the shaman once and for all before he could do any more damage. A quick battle for sure, but a deadly one nonetheless. The party scoured the room, taking another tapestry from the walls happily like the loot fiends they were, and the fremlin checked around the alter, finding a chest hidden behind it. He swiftly checked for traps - finding nothing of the sort. He attempted to pick the lock, but as soon as he got close a needle shot out and pricked his finger - but luckily for him, it didn't push deep enough into the flesh to properly secrete the poison it was laced with into his wound. Panicked, he flew up atop the alter and sat down. A great divine light started to emanate from beneath his rather overly bare bottom, as the alter shone with power, and the fremlin was healed of all ailments. The light flickered and faded as quickly as it came, however. What a stroke of luck.

The group placed their ear upon the southern door, as sounds seemed to echo from behind it. Oncemore the CD brought a wonderfully acted atmosphere and soundscape depicting multiple deep-voiced creatures torturing a man - someone who refused to give up any information to them about the Orb of Dragonkind and how to use it. The players instantly knew this was the man they were looking for and prepared for a fight - but this time; they'd have the upper hand. The party prepared a trap, the fremlin held a jar of Greek Fire (a very flammable oil) up above the doorframe, whilst the halfling held a torch in his hand,all whilst the wizard stayed back, a net held in his hands. The halfling slammed open the door and yelled before running back into the room, unveiling a group of hobgoblins still wielding their torture equipment; a whip, a blazing hot metal poker and a metal rod, equally as hot on the tip. Embering coals were sat in a bucket in the centre of the room, whilst a very injured and broken Elf lay limp inside a cage in the corner of the room.

The hobgoblins, completely oblivious to the small fremlin atop the door frame, rushed towards the torture-interrupting party. How dare they ruin a hobgoblin's favourite pass-time? The first rushes through and is instantly covered in oil, then set alight with the torch as soon as he's close - but not before he gets a hit off with his whip, hurting the already injured Cleric more before being set ablaze and falling flat upon the carpet, lighting it up beneath him. The second hobgoblin ran in, tripped over his comrades corpse and set his own body alight, spending his turn trying to pat it out. The third wielded the poker and rushed the side of the Cleric, getting a hit off with ease, leaving him near death - but this was where the Wizard came in: he threw the net, perfectly wrapping it around the hobgoblins ankles and knocking him prone - head slamming directly upon the burning corpse of his compatriot behind him. The harmonies that came from the screams of the burning creatures reverberated rather satisfyingly against the flat, hard stone walls of the chapel. A few final blows were thrown by the group, and the hobgoblins were no more - serving as complete disappointments to their viciously militarised race. 

The party then pushed into the torture chamber and spoke to the elf - and indeed this was the man they were looking for. He was horribly weakened, and was of no use to them, but he did call for 100 gold pieces if they brought him back to the great wizard, so they aided him in limping back to town. The wizard and the mercenary reunited, and the party were paid for their amazing effort, surprising the whole town with their reappearance. The fremlin thief even levelled up thanks to the treasure he snagged. Bonegnasher, however, was still a looming threat - and though the mercenary needed time to recover, the party needed to stop the great ogre from getting his hands upon the Orb of Dragonkind; as with it, Bonegnasher would turn into a dragon, and that would spell a terrible fate for many.

There was where we ended, only 4 rooms explored in the dungeon, but lots of fun had within it. The CD was cheesy and very entertaining, the concept felt old-school and charming, and man; the fights, though quick, felt tense and deadly as all hell, and I was very surprised they got this far without a death - I even made them prep a backup character alongside some pregens I made just in case. Advanced Dungeons & Dragons 2nd Edition was a lot of fun, I loved how quickly combat was done and over with in comparison to the WoTC editions' initiative queue system - it was a nice change up and characters were nearly dead after a round or two. It was scary! Can't wait to continue it.

In the meantime, most of First Quest's CD audio is available on youtube thanks to Robert Green; if you'd like to listen to it. Check it out!