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You are here: Home --> Forum Home --> Recent posts by Vorrioch
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Topic: Dying of the Light Q&A
Subject: Reserved


Last one, I promise!

Posted on 2009-10-14 at 21:20:26.

Topic: Dying of the Light Q&A
Subject: Reserved


And one more...

Posted on 2009-10-14 at 21:19:07.
Edited on 2009-10-14 at 21:20:05 by Vorrioch

Topic: Dying of the Light Q&A
Subject: Reserved


Posted on 2009-10-14 at 21:18:53.

Topic: Dying of the Light Q&A
Subject: Reserved


Posted on 2009-10-14 at 21:18:39.

Topic: Dying of the Light Q&A
Subject: Reserved


Posted on 2009-10-14 at 21:18:00.
Edited on 2009-10-14 at 21:18:24 by Vorrioch

Topic: Dying of the Light Q&A
Subject: Reserved


Posted on 2009-10-14 at 21:17:36.
Edited on 2009-10-14 at 21:18:12 by Vorrioch

Topic: Dying of the Light Q&A
Subject: Dying of the Light Q&A

This is a Q&A thread for Dying of the Light, a 2nd edition AD&D game. Post your comments, questions and favourite flavours of ice cream here.

Posted on 2009-10-14 at 21:17:17.
Edited on 2009-10-14 at 21:22:29 by Vorrioch

Topic: Dying of the Light
Subject: Dying of the Light

Mael Son of Eon:
Temple of the Morninglord, Clerks Ward. Sigil

The polished oak doors, glistening darkly on their resplendent hinges, swing smartly open before your enquiring hand to admit you to the inner sanctum. The old man sits, hunched forward slightly over two neatly stacked piles of paperwork Giuliano Bascilicus, Illuminator and High Priest of your order here in Sigil, now entering into his seventy-eighth year of life.

Two watery, milk-blue eyes check on the page, the quill halts in his hand mid-letter and Bascilicus straightens slowly to face you. “There is mud on your cloak,” he chides you fastidiously in a tone suggesting a transgression comparable perhaps to slave-trading or trafficking with demons.

Giuliano appears exhausted, smaller, than you remember him, and clinging desperately to the worn remnants of a fading authority. There is an odd odour about the room, overpowering as the door swings closed behind you - musty, cloying, and sickly-sweet altogether, and it takes a conscious effort to fight back the instinct to gag. An oversized chasuble, portraying the holy light of Lanthander in brilliant shades of orange, creamy white and gold, hangs loosely about the old man’s withered shoulders. Two hollow, bruised half-circles surround his eyes, bespeaking many nights of troubled sleep, and lending a faintly strigine appearance.

Mael has been absent these past three months, keeping vigil across the Planes, and the Illuminator’s condition has visibly taken a turn for the worse - he appears tangibly frailer, weaker than even on your last visit. The matter of his succession has been a topic of some lively debate for some time, not merely in the alehouses and coffee houses of the district but also within the cloistered corridors of the temple itself - and your understanding is that no small sums of money have been wagered upon the time of the old man’s death.
You can make out a thick film of dust and mildew on the window and bookshelves above his head … a lifetime’s learning given over to rot and decay.

“We’ve received a complaint from Vladimir Tesch,” the Illuminator begins without preamble, his voice a dry rasp between worn-out, yellowed teeth, “a singularly unpleasant creature, and yet one with no mean temporal influence over the good folk of this city.” You’ve heard the name before. Fated. Richer than Crassus. Owns a dozen mills and holds a stranglehold on importing Sigil’s grain supply. The absurd rumour on the streets is that he sleeps curled atop a vast pile of riches like a dragon.

“One of Tesch’s grain shipments has been intercepted by brigands, and half of the poor of this city will go hungry if is not safely returned.” That seems true enough. There’ve been an unremitting string of famines across the Primes these past few years - too many for coincidence, droughts, floods, locusts and stranger things still - the price of bread has doubled since your last visit alone. “Worse yet, reports from the groundsuggest that the raiders were led by a templar of our own order,” the old man’s voice breaks off in a hacking cough, muffled by a handkerchief, and you can see specks of blood upon the pressed white cloth before he is finished. Giuliano’s twisted facial expression suggests a man confronted with a particularly unsavoury taste.

“Now, for the present, Tesch has been - ah, charitable, enough to keep that particular knowledge to himself, but only on the condition that we see to it that the situation is resolved immediately.” Past experience suggests that the news will spread like wildfire across the city before daybreak tomorrow, whether Tesch suppresses it or not. This can purely be an exercise in damage control.

His bent back straightens slightly, “As the most experienced warrior available to our temple in these troubled times, will you do us the honour of representing Lathander upon this difficult matter?” He has no formal authority over you, you are not of his church, nonetheless it is not a request.

“You will of course by compensated in full for your efforts. And if things are as they seem, do try to bring the man back alive” the old man’s appears somewhat conflicted, his lips tighten with the ghost of what might almost be a smile, although there is little enough humour in his expression. “After all, he’s one of us. And then there are formalities to attend to.”


The Fist of the Gods Obsolete:
Providence Creek, Prime World

Somewhere in the Primes a town is burning. Charred, twisted husks of buildings which were once shops and homes smoulder on, thin tongues of fire picking over their broken remains. There is a thick, pagan haze of smoke about the air, thick with the acrid, slightly greasy stench of charcoal and roasting flesh. Overhead, the sky is masked by a dark shroud of clouds, brooding, pregnant with the storm to follow. There is a heavy rain to fall, and the land will be washed clean before the day is done.

The figure of a man strides, evenly, through the stubble of harvested cornfields, past the mourning and the dead until he stands at the stilled heart of a town which he once called home. Broken glass from a sundered church window lies scattered across the cobblestones, shattering and cracking beneath the force of his footsteps. Unobserved, the beaming, radiant features of some unknown saint vanish into a spray of splinters beneath the force of his boot heel as he passes overhead.

The doors of the town granary are flung wide open, hanging limply on their hinges. Someone’s taken an axe to them. Peering into the empty darkness within, the wayfarer can make out a scattered trail of grain - clearly one of the sacks split when the produce within was removed.

On the street outside a prodigiously fat man lies, sprawled on his back, in a pool of drying blood… his belly has been split, and his red hands are clutched helplessly over the obscene mess within.

“Everything…” he mutters through lips encrusted with gore, gazing vacantly upwards at the stranger’s approach, “they took everything…”


Amon Caiedes:
Elbow Lane, Lower Ward, Sigil

Dusk creeps softly upon the streets and alleys of the Lower Ward, as the last wan rays of daylight dwindle and retire from their losing battle with the ethereal, yellow-brown shroud of smoke that blankets the city, and usher in a cold, starless night.

Sulphurous fumes, with an oily, rancid odour that could almost strip paint, billow from the factories and workshops of the district, mingling into a nauseating haze of smog. Here and there, the few remaining gaslights flicker and spark, shipwrecked beacons drowning in an ocean of dust and fog.

Burgeoning coils of blue-black razorvine, its deceptively soft, bulbous leaves bristling with spines sharp enough to cut a man’s arm to the quick, twist languidly about the dilapidated architecture of some forgotten era, worming their thick tendrils over and under old stone gargoyles, worn and weathered with the passage of time, slates and redbrick tiles. Here and there a building is entirely overgrown with the stuff, and a teaming mass of vegetation threatens to bring the entire building down about its occupants’ ears.

Amon is seated beside the window, commanding an excellent view of the street outside through cracked panes, frosted with a spider’s web of dust and accumulated filth. Across the table sits Gustav the Tiefling, a business associate and former knight of the post himself, if not exactly a friend. Gustav is known as a man, if you want to call him that, who can acquire things. On this particular evening the subject of his acquisition would appear to be Amon, and he’s slowly (and from the look of things ham fistedly) trying to wheedle the latter round to the fact. Hence the beer and bar snacks, even Gustav isn’t addle headed to give things away unless there’s a profit to be made down the line.

“I’ll be frank, Amon,” Gustav continues, “I know it’s outside your normal line of work. But the man asked for you specifically - and no I didn’t give him your name, so you can stop looking at me like that! And besides, half the Ward’s going to starve if someone doesn’t take care of it.”

Amon can hear the harsh, metallic ring of a bell somewhere in the distance, and moments later the street is packed with a tide of bleary-eyed, unwashed humanity, pressing in on each other as they stagger wearily home at the end of another long shift at one of the district’s many mills. An almost skeletally thin man, Bleaker more likely than not, skin caked with dirt and indescribable filth through the many tears in his ragged clothing, harries the press like a hyena circling a herd of gazelle - screaming exhortations to despair or entreaties for coin which are lost in the bustle of the street.

Two Harmonium guards, resplendent in suits of burnished mail, slouch lazily against a shop-front on the opposite side of the street. One elbows the other as a pretty girl makes her way past, sharing a lewd joke, before she is lost in the crowd.

“So, will you do it?” Gustav presses, sensing that he’s losing his target’s attention. His nimble fingers, a full digit longer than most, chase the last peanut about the bowl and scoop it into his waiting mouth as he speaks. “Rest assured, you’ll be paid well for your efforts - extra for discretion. After all, Tesch couldn’t have us fostering the impression that his shipments are vulnerable to thieves now, could he? And it’ll be what - two days’ work, three tops…”

Posted on 2009-10-11 at 22:59:15.
Edited on 2009-10-11 at 23:00:12 by Vorrioch

Topic: RDI stats
Subject: Question...

I disabled the "religious/political preference" data collection subroutine, but I CAN give you regional info.

Sorry, but how does that work?

Are you saying that Google can predict the political and religious beliefs of people visiting a given site from their IP addresses? If so, is this determined from the other websites that they visit? (So, if someone’s a Christian but doesn’t visit religious sits then they might show as agnostic.) Or from their locations and demographic groups? (Most people in Texas vote Republican, so a visitor from Texas would show as Republican.)

Posted on 2009-09-26 at 16:54:43.

Topic: Loaded Dice #16: Just Playing my Character (part two)
Subject: ..

I’m surprised that no one’s hit on the more obvious solution yet…

Party: “Please stop doing that. You’re going to get us all killed.”
Problem Player: “Hey! I’m just playing my character.” (And as far as he’s concerned, getting what he wants is more important than keeping your characters alive.)
Party: “Okay, you do that. We’re staying right here. Have fun.”

“I’m just playing my character” is all very well, but it can create situations where the rest of the group have absolutely no reason to back up (or hang around with) the dangerous maniac who’s perpetually landing them in hot water beyond the fact that he’s a PC.

In my experience, dealing with these kind of situations OOC is probably better than using magic to mind-control the offending character (which can create some serious bad blood) … but that wouldn’t make for anywhere near as entertaining a comic.

Posted on 2009-09-21 at 16:04:28.

Topic: I'll make my own RPG, with blackjack, and hookers!
Subject: Hmm... so, no blackjack... or hookers?

Basically, it involves a number of d6 and a difficulty which those dice need to equal or exceed. I doubt I am the first to think of it, but I have never seen it used like this, but I'm gonna use it.

The mechanic you’ve just described sounds close to West End Games’ old D6 system. That might be something to look into before you invest masses of time into this.

Which brings me to my request: How am I supposed to get this done? Where do I start? In what order should I do this? Has anyone of you participated in a project like this before and how did you do it? Any insanely bright ideas regarding anything?

This might be a good place to start, since it’s frequented by a fair number of published game designers who could probably tell you more than most of us here.

It’s probably also fair to say that the RPG market is massively saturated, but you probably knew that already. Selling a PDF might be a better way to go, to save yourself the costs of printing, but I’m really just speculating here.

Otherwise, best of luck. Keep us informed of how it turns out if you decide to take this one any further.

Posted on 2009-09-17 at 12:51:11.
Edited on 2009-09-17 at 12:51:32 by Vorrioch

Topic: Loaded Dice #9: the Gate
Subject: Hope someone packed a 10 foot pole…

Though to be honest, Ray’s probably right. Why should their characters spend time standing around in sub-zero temperatures in order to fish out what’s (from their perspective) likely to be nothing more exciting or valuable than a dead squirrel?

I wonder if Steve’s a fan of DM of the Rings. They seem to share the same gaming style.

Posted on 2009-08-28 at 13:39:58.
Edited on 2009-08-28 at 13:40:24 by Vorrioch

Topic: Lolkat's super special art request thread
Subject: Grugg looks awesome…

And a bit mischievous. Nice one.

Posted on 2009-08-25 at 13:02:41.

Topic: Lolkat's super special art request thread
Subject: Since you’re offering...

If you’ve got the time then I’d love to see you draw a portrait of one of my old WFRP characters.

I’d imagined him as a young man with quite animated facial features (probably mid-rant) wearing a judge’s wig and robes, holding a noose aloft in one hand and a sword down by his side in the other. Ideally, I'd like him to be facing the camera. He’ll be standing on a palanquin held aloft by a stolid, heavy set and very heavily armoured man at the back and a fellow bearing an eerie resemblance to Jason Voorhees (complete with hockey mask and bloodstained cleaver) at the front.

If this is too much, or there’s something else that you’d prefer to draw then please feel free to skip over this request.

Posted on 2009-08-21 at 15:37:45.

Topic: Loaded Dice: Strip #6
Subject: Poor Brad...

He seems to be fast becoming the Meg Griffin of the group.

Also, IIRC the Bladesinger was one of the more unbalanced kits out there (the Audalis may well differ here). Could it be that he's finally learning how to min-max properly?

Posted on 2009-08-21 at 15:36:17.

Topic: entry questions
Subject: D&D

Also, how well should I know the rules before playing, or is the best way to learn often by doing?

If you’re looking to run a game, then you’ll want to know the rules inside out beforehand.

If you’re just playing, and the rest of the group know that you’re new, then just read the real basics and the rules that apply to the character that you want to play. You should be able to pick up everything else during the game.

If at all possible, I’d also try to join a game that only uses the core rules. Due to the way that 3.5 was designed, a character who’s been created just using the Players Handbook will often be totally outclassed by someone who’s taken feats and powers from a dozen sourcebooks. And that’s not normally a fun place to be when you’re trying to learn a new game.

Posted on 2009-07-19 at 17:59:37.

Topic: entry questions
Subject: Suggestion…

If you haven’t already, then you might want to start by looking on ebay. You can normally pick up a 2nd edition Players Handbook for about £2 ($3) plus postage and packaging. I’d imagine that most of the 3.5 stuff will be quite cheap at the moment as well, since it’s just gone out of print.

Also, if you’re only interested in playing 3.5 online, then you don’t need to buy anything at all. WotC released it under an Open Gaming License, which means that you can read all of the core rules for free (completely legally) on their website.

Posted on 2009-07-18 at 09:41:33.

Topic: It's coming!
Subject: That...

Looks great so far. I’d be very interested to see which direction the comic takes.

Posted on 2009-06-10 at 14:16:49.

Topic: RDINN Feature Updates/ Suggestions/ Bugs
Subject: Question

Can you use the dice roller to send the same same set of results to multiple email addresses?

Or would you need to email them to yourself and then forward them on?

Posted on 2009-06-10 at 14:13:35.

Topic: Co-Creator of D&D Dave Arneson Passed Away
Subject: Co-Creator of D&D Dave Arneson Passed Away

Dave Arneson, who has died aged 61, was an American pioneer of role playing games and co-creator of the immersive world of Dungeons & Dragons; its extraordinary popularity spawned a host of imitators both on paper and online, transforming a geeky concept once considered the exclusive realm of spotty teenage boys into an industry worth billions that now captivates tens of millions of people around the world.

With Gary Gygax (who died last year), his partner in creating D&D in the early 1970s, Arneson developed rules that expanded on traditional tabletop battles played out using lead figurines, making two principal innovations. Firstly, instead of using historically-themed armies often thousands strong, the pair concentrated on smaller groups and individuals drawn from the medieval and fantasy worlds popularised by JRR Tolkien. The biggest departure, however, was to focus on what their imaginary protagonists did "in between" the fighting.

"We started setting different objectives for the players. We started stealing things: bombs, guns, food supplies, that sort of thing," Arneson recalled, describing the evolution of D&D. "Players could negotiate with each other for who captured the goal, and then had to figure out how they were going to slip the products past a blockade and sell them on the black market."

Suddenly, the heroes of role-playing games (or RPGs as they quickly became known) were not Napoleonic-era officers, but axe-wielding dwarves and warrior-princesses clad in unfeasibly tight leather armour. They faced not artillery or cavalry charges, but goblins and dragons, which could only be defeated by the acquisition of "skills" and "experience" picked up in the course of the game.

At the time that he was developing D&D's rules, Arneson was working as a security guard and "couldn't afford new shoes". Then a friend bankrolled the pair to produce 500 copies of the first D&D rule books from Gygax's basement. With its dependence on players' imaginations and quirky innovations (six sided dice were supplemented by four, eight, 10, 12 and 20-sided die), the game defied expectations and quickly sold out, with successive and bigger print runs also snapped up. Thirty years later, Arneson said Dungeons and Dragons was selling more than a million copies a year.

David Lance Arneson was born on October 1 1947 in Minnesota. At school he enjoyed history but frequently became diverted by "what-if" speculations about past events rather than concentrating on actual facts. He went on to study History at the University of Minnesota. By the summer of 1970 he and a group of like minded high-school and college students were gathering for role playing games around the ping-pong table in his parent's cellar in St Paul, where the evolution from traditional "military miniatures" to Dungeons and Dragons began.

From the beginning however, it was clearly not a "cool" pursuit: "I'm trying to take myself seriously," recalled one member of the original group, Dave Wesley. "They're playing with elves and dwarves. I'm thinking 'I'm never going to tell anybody I was in this game'." Arneson's own father was bemused by the fact that gaggles of young players disappeared into his basement for hours on end, but stubbornly refused to raid the alcohol cabinet housed there.

It was between 1970 and 1974, when the first 500 copies of D&D were printed, that the game's complex rules were developed. But as the game took off, the partnership with Gygax, whom Arneson had met in 1969 at a gaming convention, became strained. Arneson was forced out of the company, TSR, which they ran together. His acrimonious departure, which centred over creative credits and royalty rights, led to a series of court disputes, which were eventually settled in 1981.

Though the pair remained in contact, and Arneson briefly rejoined TSR in the mid-1980s, the friendship which produced D&D was ruptured. "We don't hate each other. We don't hang out with each other that often, though. We just kept going our own two separate ways," Arneson said.

Arneson continued to develop a range of fantasy role playing games in the 1980s before moving into computer programming which he "hated". He also consulted for computer companies before moving to California, developing an interest in the education of disabled and disadvantaged children through role-play.

In the early 1990s he moved to Florida to work at a private university, where he taught students about the complexities of computer code.

Despite his interest in computers, Arneson, who continued to play RPGs until his death, was not drawn to video games, advances in which have opened up the world of Dungeons and Dragons to a huge new audience of players, many of whom now team up with each other online from across the globe to complete the kinds of quests that Arneson and his friends pursued around his parent's ping-pong table 40 years ago.

Arneson returned to Minnesota in his final months where he reassembled his original gaming group. He married Frankie Anne Morneau in 1984, and they had one daughter who survives him.

Posted on 2009-04-13 at 14:00:44.
Edited on 2009-04-13 at 14:00:59 by Vorrioch

Topic: Going to be out for a while
Subject: Thanks

He’s doing a lot better, thanks. With any luck he should be coming out of the hospital tomorrow.

Thanks again for understanding, if you want to go ahead and update then I'll certainly aim to have a post up by the end of the weekend.

Posted on 2009-01-26 at 22:47:39.
Edited on 2009-01-26 at 22:50:18 by Vorrioch

Topic: Going to be out for a while
Subject: Going to be out for a while

Sorry, but I’m going to be out for the next week at least.

My Grandad had a heart attack last week, and the doctors are concerned that he may have developed a blood infection. My Grandmother doesn’t drive, and therefore can’t visit him in hospital by herself. I’ve also got exams coming up at college next week, and the revision’s eating up most of the little free time I have left.

So, if I’m one of your players then please feel free to go ahead and update without me. I’ll do my best to catch up when I can find the time.

Posted on 2009-01-24 at 21:53:59.

Topic: Freelancers - a game of Spycraft
Subject: Great stuff!

I’m looking forward to hearing more as the game continues.

Posted on 2009-01-23 at 14:05:38.

Topic: [WFRP Actual Play] - Don’t ask me, I’m just a Rat Catcher
Subject: GM Editorial

If anyone’s interested, the GM’s cross posted this one onto and added a few comments of his own.

We’ll be gaming again this weekend, and I’ll aim to have the next chapter up sometime before the end of next week.

Oh, and here’s a link to a collection of folk tales that someone’s written for the Old World. They’ve absolutely nothing to do with the game, but I found them an interesting read so I thought I’d pass the link on.

Posted on 2009-01-23 at 14:04:05.

Topic: Decorating Style
Subject: I’m with Wyrmsting on this one…

The US President does *not* need to spend more than twice the average annual income on redecorating every four years. (Not saying we have it any better in the UK, but still…)

I’d refund 95% of that money to the people who actually earned it, and use the rest for whatever’s actually needed. Anyone who can spend $25,000 dollars a year (of other people’s money) on furniture and ornaments doesn’t really have any business representing ordinary people in the first place.

Posted on 2009-01-21 at 23:25:07.

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