They Came from the Silver Wheel

A blinding flash, a sonic boom, and the Silver Wheel appears. Twelve feet high, perhaps a hundred and twenty across, the wheel is a perfect cylinder. Its surface is smooth, without any obvious rivet or seam. It is beyond cyclopean; a featureless catastrophe from unknown realms. Any thing or any one which occupied the space the wheel chose for itself is gone.

Some time after the Wheel appears, a door opens. People emerge. They have no recollection of what is inside of the wheel. No recollection at all of their lives since they last entered it. They do have a mission in the forefront of their minds, which is always the same on every world they visit: the Silver Wheel desires treasures. It is somehow fed by them, and has indentured these people to procure its sustenance. Once they have returned with enough valuables to sate the Wheel, it will shift again. When it does, an identically sized bit of another world will appear, displaced by the Wheel’s movement. Where that bit of a world once was, the Wheel now is, and soon it will release its servants to seek new treasures.

These servants of the Wheel are the Player Characters.

Background

“They Came from the Silver Wheel” is a campaign I intended to run back in 2014, but it never came together. Eventually, I gave up on the idea to focus on other things, and for some reason it only now occurred to me to use it as blog fodder.

The Silver Wheel is a framing device, meant to allow the referee to connect as many disparate adventures together in a single campaign as they want. There are too many interesting settings out there, and not enough time to run a whole campaign in even a fraction of them. Using the Silver Wheel, you can spend a few sessions in A Red and Pleasant Land, then warp to Greyhawk, then to some old campaign setting you ran back in high school, then–fuck it–why not appear in Star Frontier for a bit, before jumping to Scenic Dunsmouth.

The Silver Wheel allows a group to poke their heads into a ton of different adventures and campaign settings, and in so doing, preempts setting fatigue. The Wheel’s voracious appetite for treasure keeps the game focused properly, but skirts the niggling issue of what the players can do with all their money.

And, hopefully, the wheel’s many benefits will encourage the players not to abandon it.

Benefits of the Wheel

Servants of the Silver Wheel are well cared for. They are healthier, and more capable than other men. They are well equipped, and even allowed to keep those treasures which are useful to them–such as magical items. But, since those servants are also player characters, they have agency. If they wish, they can abandon the wheel at any time. Eventually, it will recruit new servants from this world. They will gather what it desires, and it will disappear, stranding the PCs on this world forever. They will lose all of the wheel’s many benefits, but they will be free.

So what are these benefits? Well, whatever happens to people inside the wheel must be good for their health, because whenever they level up, they roll a bonus from the following table, in addition to whatever benefits they would normally receive:

+1d4 hit points
A random save is reduced by 1.
1 skill point
A random ability score is raised by 1
Character gains +1 to attack rolls
Character’s speed is increased by 30′.

These benefits are permanent so long as the character returns to the Wheel regularly. If the Wheel leaves them behind, these boons will begin to fade. After each month of time the characters spends away from the wheel, randomly determine one of their boons for them to lose, until they have none left.

The servants of the Wheel also have access to special equipment. At the start of each new adventure, the players are entitled to any basic piece of equipment they can carry without becoming overly encumbered. Things like rope, iron spikes, 10′ poles, bear traps, etc. These must be identified at the start of play, and cannot be swapped out until the players are ready to jump to the next world.

Basic equipment from the Wheel is somehow better than standard examples of its type. The exact nature of the improvement is left to the referee, and may not always be the same, as the Wheel is fond of experimenting with new ideas.

By way of example, a short sword that normally deals 1d6 damage might be enhanced by microvibrators, causing it to deal 1d8 damage. Or, it might have a basic artificial intelligence to it, allowing it to adjust attacks of its own volition, increasing attack rolls by some amount. As another example, a rope might be programmable, so that it will twist itself into knots when a command is sent, or it might be able to crawl up to some desired position like a snake. Armor might brace the body in such a way as to increase the player’s carry capacity, or it might have built-in communications tools.

Whatever the improvement, these items are ephemeral. They depend on the energy that infuses them within the Wheel, and deprived of it for more than a month, they will cease to function.

It angers the Silver Wheel if any of its gifts to its servants are not returned. When players re-enter the wheel, their experience gain will be penalized by the base cost of any equipment they left behind, multiplied by 100.

Secrets of the Wheel

Within the Wheel is a creature of the mind. It is neither corporeal, nor fully incorporeal, but exists between these two states. It has a sort of gaseous body, but its essence is not strictly bound to that frame, and may be tangible or not at different times. The creature is an exile. The Wheel is its prison, the only place in our dimension with an environment it can endure.

The creature’s only source of amusement is traveling to different worlds, and experiencing the minds there. It tastes their conceptions, searching always for new flavors. Of particular use to it is the concept of value. This is the mother’s milk which allows it to perform the titanic feat of leaping instantaneously from world to world.

When the creature takes a gold piece into itself, and vaporizes it, the amount of power generated is proportional to how local minds value the object. So, on a world of plenty, an apple would be useless; but during a famine, an apple might provide significant energy.

Abyssal Rambling

Note: Members of my ToKiJaTiMo gaming group should not read this post.

I don’t remember precisely when I first obtained my copy of D&D 3rd edition’s Manual of the Planes. It was probably among the first supplements I ever owned. It’s almost certainly the first RPG book I read cover-to-cover. I spent much of my early life exploring fantastical worlds through books and video games, so I was no stranger to the idea of otherworldly dimensions where the laws of reality work differently. What was completely new to me was to see those worlds explained and quantified. In a narrative, it’s important to maintain an aura of mystique about such locals. But this book had diagrams, explanations of different types of gravity, even pseudoscience about how the planes interacted with one another. The volume of concepts the book presented set my imagination aflame. The possibilities of running a planar adventure are always wafting about in my mind, but in all this time, I’ve never got around to actually doing it.

In our most recent session I presented my players with four different hooks. The elves needed help in their war against the orcs to the south, and there were three different adventures the players would need to undertake to obtain the three different materials they would need to transform their sorceress into an Arachnohominid. So what happens?

Gibbous The Cleric “What about all those gnomes that were turned to stone in the dungeon?”

GM “Well, Pumofe [The party’s new gnome barbarian] was one of them. The rest are still in there.”

Gibbous “We can’t just leave them down there. We should help them first.”

Poker the Rogue “I see no profit in that.”

Rosco The Ranger “Well, we could at least tell the gnomes that they’re in there.”

Pumofe “But they can’t get them out, can they? There’s the magical barrier thing that keeps gnomes out.”

Poker “Oh! Since we’re the only ones who can go in there, we can charge the village per statue we carry out!”

Gibbous “Guys, we have gotta help these gnomes! I wasn’t here last session, how did we rescue Pumofe?”

Rosco “We used Demon’s blood.”

Gibbous “I have some of that!”

GM “No you don’t, that’s the blood they used.”

Gibbous “Cuthbert damn it! We need to find some demons then. Come on guys!”

A few hours of gameplay later, the party had tracked down their wizard friend Mahudar Kosopske, and convinced him to make them a Gem of Plane Shift with 2 charges. One to get them to the Abyss, and one to bring them home. (a scene which I recently posted an illustration of, in fact). Assuming they stick to their present adventure path, it looks like I’ll be running my first Planar adventure pretty soon. I’m excited, and brimming with ideas.

The gem the wizard is making for them will teleport them to a relatively unpopulated area, ostensibly for safety’s sake, since they are still low level adventurers. But since the purpose of their trip is to harvest blood from demons, a remote location serves the double purpose of making their task more difficult. I’ve been trying to come up with challenges they’ll need to face which will test their mettle without giving them what they need too easily. So far I’ve com up with the following:

Field of Chains an area of ground covered in barbed chains and dead bodies. At first these chains will appear to be set dressing, but once all players are standing on the chains, they will begin to make grapple attempts against the players. Once grappled by at least two chains, they will attempt to pull the player apart. Each chain is AC: 12, Hardness: 4, HP: 6, with a CMB of +6. Each round a character is successfully grappled, they will take 1 damage from the barbs on each chain, as they shift and twist. Once there are two chains on a player, they will make a combat maneuver check at a -4 penalty to pin the character. This penalty is reduced by 1 for each chain on the player. Once a player is pinned, the chains deal 1d6 damage per round as they attempt to pull the player apart.
Suicide Forest An extremely dense forest of dead trees, with a body hanging by a noose from each tree. The branches of these trees are extremely brittle, and whenever one breaks, the tree screams in agony from an unseen mouth. It is impossible to move through this forest without breaking branches every few feet. And every scream has a chance to attract a hellhound–or worse. (Thank you, Dante Alighieri!)
Acid Lake A titanic creature died here–violently. Only its top half is anywhere to be seen, and it towers above the players like a castle. It appears to have died some time ago, because it has rotted away enough that many bones are visible. Its stomach is completely gone, and from the rotted cavity a wash of green, bubbling acid flowed out to form a lake which deals 1d8+2 damage per round.
The Gods are Not Welcome Anytime a player attempts to cast any good aligned clerical magic (such as Gibbous’ healing spells) demons nearby will sense the intrusion into their realm, and a random encounter will be rolled to appear 1d6 rounds later.
Field of Razorgrass Field of waist-high grass. Any character not wearing armor takes 1d4 damage per square they move through. Characters wearing armor on their legs still take 1d4 damage, but only once per movement.

If anyone has any more environment ideas, I’m eager to hear them.

I think the best way to run this little planar excursion will be to style it like an outdoor dungeon. Instead of using 6 mile hexes, I’ll use 5ft hexes, and the players will need to solve problems in 10 minute turns. I’ll also need to figure out just how much blood they can get from each demon–and how big and bad the demons will get. If they’re not careful, they will probably encounter something severely out of their league, such as a Marileth.

Reality is my Sourcebook: Outside

The sun and I are not on good terms.

We’ve got an uneasy sort of détente. It stays out of my realm, and I stay out of it’s. For the most part this works for the both of us. I only need to go outside when travel to work or the game store. But then, all I need do is scurry through the sun’s realm from my front door, to the car door. And since I live in the pacific northwest (the Seattle area) the sun often doesn’t even show up to harass me during that jaunt. Clouds and rain do, but I get along with them just fine.

Then I let a woman with plans to become an ecological scientist move in with me. This was a bad idea. Every so often she drags me, clawing at the carpet, into the natural world. I try to explain to her that the Sun will view this as a breach of our unofficial treaty, but she seems to think that I’m just being melodramatic. Somehow she doesn’t view the sun bombarding me with potentially lethal radiation as proof enough of its malice.

One minor benefit of these harrowing excursions is the inspiration I’m able to draw from them for my games. As I’ve mentioned many times before, reality is filled with amazing facts, many of which can be used as inspiration for gaming. Today I encountered a number of different natural environments at the two nature reserves we visited. And there, I discovered three things which I thought might be fascinating to use in a game.

At the first location we visited, we saw this large space filled with nothing but mud and death. Apparently this area is, naturally, an estuary. Simply speaking, an estuary is a meeting of fresh water and salt water, where rivers reach the sea. When early settlers moved into the pacific northwest, they blocked off the salt water, and used the land around the estuary to create an orchard. The land has since become a nature reserve, though, and the dike blocking the salt water was recently removed. As it flowed back into the landscape, it killed off all of the fresh water plantlife, resulting in this deathlike landscape. In a few years, salt-tolerant plant life will reassert itself. Until then, however, tell me this doesn’t look like a perfect environment for undead to live in? There’s nothing visibly alive out there. Just dead plants, murky water…and mud-caked undead ready to attack foolish adventurers?

As a game master, you really don’t need an excuse to create an environment, since most of your players probably won’t be too picky about how a given environment came about. But if you strive for accuracy, just put an abandoned settlement and a dike that crumbled from age.

It was as we were looking at this creepy landscape that my ladyfriend also took the opportunity to tell me about Bog Bodies, which you should totally check out if you’re a fan of undead stuff like I am.

The second location we visited is apparently somewhat unique to our area, and somewhat mysterious as well! Scientists are not entirely sure what causes the formation of Mima Mounds, which are sort of like tiny hillocks. The tallest are a little taller than an average person (about 7 feet), and they apparently occur primarily in areas of plains/prairie. What I found most fascinating about them, from a tactical perspective, is that they are almost invisible. Since the entire area is a field of grass and small plants, it can be extremely difficult to identify the mounds. In the picture above, they are only clearly apparent because that photograph includes the treeline for them to intersect. Check out this photo where the mounds don’t block your view of the trees. I promise, there are a bunch of mounds in this shot:

This would be an absolutely perfect place for an ambush. Particularly for small creatures like halflings, gnomes, kobolds, or goblins. Four or five of them could hide behind each mound. The small field I visited today could cloak several hundred warriors, all able to appear instantly to charge across the flat ground between the mounds.

Wikipedia has a panoramic image of the field I visited today. It’s almost 12mb so it takes a moment to download, but it’s a pretty impressive view.

Finally, there was this crazy moss. Neither of us was even able to identify it, so I can’t share any solid information on it. It was growing absolutely everywhere on the Mima Mounds, in huge patches as large as 7-8 feet across. It was so prolific we assumed it probably was not actually dead, yet it sure as hell didn’t seem alive. It was completely dry and brittle, crunching under our feet as easily as snow would. And a lot louder than snow would as well. It would be impossible to sneak up on anyone through moss like this.

On a final note, as we were leaving to head home, we met Spiderbro. He was a bro.

Cultural Oddities

Part of creating an immersive world is creating a wide variety of people to live in it. Variety which extends beyond accents and alignments. If you’ve ever had any kind of significant encounter with another culture, you begin to understand how very different humans can be. Things which you take for granted, things which seem fundamentally true, simply do not occur to someone raised on the other side of the world. Your fundamental beliefs about society and identity might even seem ludicrous to them. You may feel as though your way of thinking is the correct way, you may even be right to think that. I, personally, refuse to accept the profound sexism which is inherent to many cultures as a simple difference of opinion. But whether or not I accept it doesn’t mean jack shit to the ten million, or two hundred million, or two billion people who were raised in that culture. The fact is that culture defines us in ways that we cannot even comprehend. It’s something I’ve touched on before.

When creating a unique culture for a game world, it never hurts to throw in a quirk or two which will help the players connect to just how different these people are. It’s not too terribly hard to come up with this kind of stuff, as sources for inspiration are plentiful. If you watch Star Trek (and lets face it, you do) there are plenty of episodes where cultural oddities are a plot point. This is a good source for inspiration on genetic oddities which would influence culture as well. You can also look at lists of wacky laws. The Internet has been in love with these since the earliest days of elderly folks forwarding emails to everyone they’ve ever met, so it should be no trouble to find them on google. And, as always, reality is a wonderful sourcebook. I just finished explaining how unusual human culture can get, and ten minutes of research will likely turn up a dozen things your players will find pretty damned unusual. No need to limit yourselves to humans either! Animals have their own cultures, and the mating habits of the angler fish would make a wicked awesome cultural quirk.

To get you started, here’s a list of some stuff I came up with. Some of these are inspired by reality, others are straight up lifted from science fiction. Anybody who can guess where I lifted the third one down from gets a cookie.

Either as a baby, or during a coming of age ritual, a child is bitten/stung by a poisonous animal which is sacred to the culture. The poison is allowed to fester, and the pain is seen as a spiritual test. The oddly shaped mark left by the experience will be interpreted by a religious figure within the culture. Generally the meaning will be derived from the scar’s shape.
Each member of a culture has a riding creature with which they form a special bond. If the two go into battle together and the riding creature is slain, but the rider is not, then the rider is sent alone into the wilderness. If they bond with another companion, then that creature is said to be the original creature, reincarnated. If the deceased companion instead wants its rider to join it in death, he or she will be unable to find a new companion creature.
A culture believes it is arrogant to use personal pronouns, because using one implies that everyone should know who you are. Instead, each creature uses its personal name whenever it needs to refer to itself. If a member of this culture is ashamed or embarrassed, they may seek anonymity by using their surname to refer to themselves (or in extreme cases, their clan, or even species name.)
The dead are buried in graves, but a small hole is left in the ground so that relatives may reach into it and touch the forehead of their loved ones.
This culture prefers dirt floors. Even if their civilization is advanced, with paved roads, and high towers, the floors of their homes will be dirt and plantlife. Even floors above ground level will have high enough ceilings that a couple feet of dirt can be piled onto the floor.
Most of a culture’s males are eunuchs. Depending on the size of the group, different numbers of breeding males will be allowed. Once a year, all males of a certain age gather for some form of contest. Either they fight for the right to breed, or the breeding males are selected by the culture’s females.
Male and female members of a culture live completely separately, coming together only occasionally to trade, and mate. As an example, the women of the culture build cities, and represent their culture to others, whilst the men of the culture are nomadic, and spend their lives hunting and patrolling the culture’s territory. The males return to the city perhaps once a year.
Certain tasks which are necessary are considered taboo, and cannot be performed in a direct manner. For example, a cleric can only examine a patient’s back by looking at it in a mirror, because the back is considered taboo.
Children are married to one another within the first few months of their lives, and one child is given to the parents of the other child. The “married couple” are then raised together by a single set of parents. Their upbringing focuses heavily on learning to function together as a unit.
A culture’s leaders are brought back as a special type of undead which exists primarily to give advice to the current leader. The leader of a small tribe might have a small council of 5-10 previous leaders to call upon. While the monarch of a long-standing kingdom might have an elaborate crypt filled with former rulers extending back dozens, or even hundreds of generations.
A certain day of the year is considered extremely unlucky, and any children born on this day are killed.
The wedding ceremony is a ritual combat between the bride and groom. The victor is the “head” of the relationship, and the other must swear to obey them.
While a mother is engaged in labor, the father must leave to search for a precious stone. This stone will be fashioned into a piece of jewelry which the child will wear throughout their entire life. He must return either before sundown, or before the child is fully born (whichever comes last), or the child will be given a simple piece of stone. Purchasing a stone, receiving help in finding the stone, or hiding the stone away before labor begins, is grounds to execute both father and child. The value the stone holds within the culture will determine the child’s social standing for the rest of their life.
One gender owns all property, but is not allowed to govern it themselves. The other gender may own no property, but governs over the property of their mates. The property-owning gender is at liberty to switch mates at any time if they are unhappy with their partner’s ability to govern.
All crimes are punishable by death. With such a steep cost, who would break even a simple rule? You’d have to be stupid to do something like step in somebody’s flower garden.
Ears, teeth and scalps are common “trophies” for savage races, but why stop there? Hands, tongues, noses, big toes, even internal organs like kidneys could be dried out and made into keepsakes.

Any thoughts of your own?

Unusual Magic Item Types

I’ve been feeling mentally drained lately, so I’m gonna keep things light around here for awhile. Fewer 2000 word posts where I try to suss out Pathfinder’s platonic ideal, more brief posts which don’t require much sussing at all. There has been an overabundance of sussing in my life, as of late. Doctor told me to cut back.

I’ve always liked the idea of odd magical items. In fact, I’ve occasionally made a game out of giving my players the most absolutely useless magical items I could imagine, just to see how they would use them. They always seem to manage it somehow. One of my best is rope which immediately unties any knot as soon as the slightest amount of tension is placed upon it. But my favorite kind of unusual magic item is a type of item which is not normally magical at all. Weapons, armor, capes, and rings are almost magical by default in a Pathfinder world, while many other items are rarely even checked for dweomers. If you find a tapestry depicting a battle, rolled up in a dungeon, you’re likely going to view it as mundane treasure. But what if the tapestry is the result of an epic-level “Time Stop” spell cast upon a battlefield? If dispelled, the combatants depicted on the tapestry would suddenly appear in the room, and continue their fight.

So lets jump into some of the types I’ve come up with:

Scabbards: It is a little known fact that the scabbard of Excalibur was actually much more valuable than the sword itself. I’m not exactly an Arthurian scholar, but none of the texts I’ve read paint Excalibur as anything other than a very good sword. In some stories it’s maybe a +1 Longsword, whilst in the film named for the blade, it might be as much as a +5. But that’s hardly impressive as magical items go. Excalibur’s scabbard, however, may be the most powerful magic represented in Arthurian myth. Any who wore it could not be wounded. Arthur would have been invincible, had he not allowed his sister Morgana Le Fay, to borrow the scabbard so she could “appreciate its beauty.” By which she meant “have someone make a copy, then throw the real one into a lake.”

Giving a character an item which makes the invulnerable might be pushing it, but there’s no reason other magical affects couldn’t be granted by a scabbard. Fast healing, for example. Perhaps there could even be some manner of trade-off with the sword. When the sword is sheathed, the scabbard grants fast healing 10, or protection from arrows, or whatever. When the sword is drawn, the magic of the scabbard is reduced in power, or ends altogether. That could make the decision to engage an enemy much more relevant.

Tattoos: This one shows up now and again in various supplements–usually ones with an asian theme for some reason. Perhaps there is some originating mythology for magical tattoos found in asian cultures which I am unaware of. I don’t really care where it came from, it’s an awesome idea, and needs to be more prominent within fantasy. Whether it’s a tattoo of a magical beast which can “jump off” your body and aid you in battle, or something more mundane, it fits in with nearly any kind of setting where magic exists. And the possibilities are too numerous to name! What about a tattoo of an eye on the tip of your finger, which you could see out of by closing your eyes? Useful for looking around corners. What if clerics got their god’s holy symbol tattooed on their chests? It could never be taken away when you were captured. I once made a character who had tattoos of short swords on her forearms, and in a pinch she could reach “into” her arms and pull a masterwork short sword out of each.

Cosmetics: While on the subject of markings on the body, what about makeup? Not exactly the kind of thing we imagine a rough-and-tumble adventurer to be interested in, but adventurers aren’t always lacking in refinement. And even those who are lacking in refinement must often deal with the upper classes of society. Mayors, nobles, kings and queens; any or all might try to fool the adventurers with Lipstick of Lying. Or they could try to hypnotize the party with Mesmerizing Mascara.

Piercings & Misc Jewelry: I honestly don’t understand why piercings are ignored by the rules. Earrings could be as versatile as Fingerrings. And a piercing could go any number of places! What about a tongue stud that made a wizard immune to any effect which would interfere with their spell’s verbal components? A belly ring could allow an adventurer to stave off hunger for weeks. Many types of obscure jewelry could be magical, in fact. Many cultures wear combs in their hair, and ancient Mayans used to replace some of their teeth with Jade. Tooth of Vecna, anyone?

Rations: We’ve all read Lord of the Rings, right? Or, at the very least, seen those films which were so popular? Lambas bread was a major plot point in the books, but you really don’t see anything like that in RPGs. This one might be more justifiable, simply because of the plethora of ways to avoid the need for rations in a basic D&D game. Clerics gain the ability to summon food and water pretty early on, and even if the party doesn’t have a cleric, bags of holding make it easy to carry a few month’s worth of rations with no problem. But still, you would think they’d put some rules for magic elven rations in the core rulebook.

Simple Tools: Hammers, Picks, Saws, etc could be enchanted to do their job exceptionally well. A saw which can cut down a tree in under a minute, or a pick which reduces an hour’s worth of work to a single swing. These items would have no combat benefits, but would make some types of work go much faster. This would be particularly useful to give to workers as they were constructing a stronghold.

What are some unusual magic item types you’ve encountered, or come up with for your own games?

Also, buttplug of protection +2. Because I can.

Reality is my Sourcebook: The Phylactery

I learned something the other day.

The concept of a lich’s phylactery is taken from Judaic mysticism. In reality, phylacteries were a complex kind of ‘magic underwear’ which were apparently quite common in Jewish communities at one time. Jewish Encyclopedia.com has an absolutely fascinating article on the subject, written in the early 20th century. There’s an impressive amount of detail there, much of which I think I would need to know a lot more about Jewish tradition to fully understand. But enough of the article is written in plain English for me to learn a lot about the beliefs surrounding this tradition.

As I mentioned in my post titled Succubi Deserve More, I like to explore the mythology behind fantasy tropes. Not only does it result in me becoming a more educated and historically aware person, but the real-world mythology always offers fascinating insight into the fantastic possibilities. Whoever first decides to take some cultural or mythological element and include it in a fantasy story takes what works for them, and leaves the rest. That’s how fantasy writing works. But who is to say that the elements they left behind aren’t sometimes just as interesting as the elements they chose to keep?

For clarity’s sake, lets start with the explanation of what a phylactery is in Pathfinder, pulled from The Pathfinder Bestiary, page 188. For those curious, this excerpt is functionally identical to the same excerpt in the Dungeons and Dragons 3.5 Monster Manual.

An integral part of becoming a lich is the creation of the phylactery in which the character stores his soul. The only way to get rid of a lich for sure is to destroy its phylactery. Unless its phylactery is located and destroyed, a lich can rejuvenate after it is killed. (See Creating a Lich, below).

Each lich must create its own phylactery by using the Craft Wondrous Item feat. The character must be able to cast spells and have a caster level of 11th or higher. The phylactery costs 120,000 gp to create and has a caster level equal to that of its creator at the time of creation.

The most common form of phylactery is a sealed metal box containing strips of parchment on which magical phrases have been transcribed. The box is Tiny and has 40 hit points, hardness 20, and a break DC of 40.

Other forms of phylacteries can exist, such as rings, amulets, or similar items.

Not a lot to go on, really. I also seem to recall very distinctly that the process of becoming a lich (and so, presumably, creating the phylactery) is supposed to be profoundly evil. To my knowledge, that is the sum of official material on what a phylactery is within the game world. There are probably a few dragon magazine articles, and sourcebooks from the 70s and 80s which contain further tidbits of “official” information, but for now the basic definition will do.

Before moving any further, I would like to again remind my readers that I am not a credible source on the topic of Judaic history and lore. The sources for this post, which have far more information on this topic, are the Jewish Encyclopedia.com article on Phylacteries, and the Skeptic’s Annotated Bible.

The historical phylactery, by comparison, was considered a very holy thing. In fact, if you look at the word’s etymology, the Greek root words suggest that it was intended to protect the wearer from evil. The Jewish custom is based on a number of passages in the Torah, most notably this excerpt from Deuteronomy:

And these words, which I command thee this day, shall be in thine heart: And thou shalt teach them diligently unto thy children, and shalt talk of them when thou sittest in thine house, and when thou walkest by the way, and when thou liest down, and when thou risest up. And thou shalt bind them for a sign upon thine hand, and they shall be as frontlets between thine eyes. And thou shalt write them upon the posts of thy house, and on they gates.

The ‘words’ this passage wants the reader to spend so much time talking about are, as best I can determine, God’s laws. Variations of this passage show up in a number of places, since repetition is an essential element in an oral tradition. The important part, though, is the bit I emphasized. That’s the origin of the historical phylactery. The exact means of how these devices were worn is somewhat unclear to me. The image at the start of the post demonstrates how complicated they appear to be–and every element was important. Even the way the knots were tied was meant to symbolize specific Hebrew lettering. Essentially, however, historical phylacteries are small boxes or pouches which are worn on the arms and between the eyes. Within the pouches are a specific arrangement of passages from the Torah, written on tiny scrolls of paper. This is likely where the idea of a lich’s phylactery being a metal box filled with tiny magical scrolls came from.

One of the archetypical things which liches do is hide their phylacteries. Common ideas are to hide it in a fortress somewhere, or to give it to a powerful dragon to protect. I’ve been involved in discussions on /tg/ and elsewhere which focus just on coming up with the most outrageous, funny, and clever ways to hid a phylactery. And I’ve heard some positively fantastic ideas. But the historical phylactery was a thing which had to be worn. You couldn’t leave it at home and continue to rely on the spiritual protection it provided.

Of course, if every lich was wearing their phylactery dangling between their eyes, the monster would loose all of its flavor. But what if there was a limit to how far away the phylactery could be from the lich? Say, it must be within 1 mile of the lich’s location. For each additional mile away, the lich suffers from 1 negative level, and if the lich reaches 0, it dies and re-forms at the location of its phylactery. Perhaps the lich might even get some kind of bonus if its phylactery is within 100ft, say, plus one caster level? Adding a mechanic like this takes nothing away from the the fun of hiding the lich’s phylactery, and in fact may end up being a great deal more fun for the players. Looking for a hidden item can be fun, but if that item is in an adamantite box which shifts to a random location in the multiverse every 30 seconds, the players are simply going to get bored. Adding limits gives the players somewhere to start their investigation. Plus, this adds a fun element to the game of a lich needing to actively manage their phylactery’s location in order to avoid negative levels.

Also interesting is that the wearer of a historical phylactery was not supposed to enter a cemetery, or “any unseemly places” whilst wearing it. Again, this suggests some interesting possibilities for the lich’s phylactery. Since liches never have their phylactery, it wouldn’t make sense for certain places to only be accessible when the lich didn’t have it, but what if there were certain places a lich couldn’t enter UNLESS it had its phylactery with it? Such as an area which is consecrated, or perhaps they cannot go within 10 miles of their original birthplace without their phylactery. It might even be interesting to say that a lich could never enter a cemetery without its phylactery. Though, given a lich’s frequent need for necromancy reagents, this could make things difficult.

There are a number of rules for historical phylacteries…actually there are a plethora of rules. There is an entire pantheon of rules. This is, after all, Judaism. The rules range from the spacing on the letters on the little scrolls, to the attention span of the chap scribing those letters, to even the color of the case. Largely, I don’t think these have much application. They could be fun if one was trying to come up with a good ritual for creating a phylactery, but unless a character becoming a lich is the focus of a campaign, I don’t think it’s particularly useful to go into the creation process too much. Although that would be a kickass campaign.

However, this rule caught my eye: “The straps (Yad. iii. 3) were made of the same material as the boxes, but could be of any color except blood-red.” Perhaps I’m shooting in the dark, here, but what if blood were harmful to phylacteries? What if, perhaps, blood was the ONLY thing which could harm a phylactery. The blood of a goodly person–or perhaps even the blood of a fallen hero. The phylactery must be coated with it, and then it becomes as brittle as a twig.

I encourage you to read up on the historical phylactery yourself, and comment on your own ideas for making a lich’s phylactery more interesting!

Succubi in Succubus Town

I’m obsessed with Comma, Blank_’s Google Analytics profile. Fiddling around with it, learning new things about my traffic, and watching the ways in which my readership has grown in the last few months tickles me pink. And more than anything else, I obsess over are search terms. Knowing what people are looking for when they find your site is not only useful, but it can be gods damned hilarious. Someone searching for “bar0n’ika” ended up finding Colorful Characters 4: Baron Ika of the Treebreaker Tribe, and someone searching for “erotic art inspired by the dungeons & dragons monster manual” found a scan from the 3.5 Monster Manual which I once uploaded but never used.

Hits from unusual search terms like those listed above tend to be rare. Most people find Comma, Blank_ by searching for much more mundane terms: dungeon door, elf archer, orc ranger, etc. One unusual term, however, is actually quite common. In fact, it is the number one search term which leads people to visit this site: “Succubi in Succubus town.”

The page these folks are finding, of course, is my post from early December entitled “Succubi Deserve More,” which I think is among some of my better work. I’m only too happy that people are finding it. But I can’t help but wonder why in the world so many people are searching for this term in the first place. I tried searching it myself, and can find no reference to any kind of succubus town whatsoever. Mostly it’s just novels by a woman named Nina Harper. I would think that, given the frequency with which the term is searched for, that it was an actual reference to something which could be found online. But no such luck.

In discussing this oddity with some of my friends, we got to joking about what a succubus town might look like. Which is when it hit upon me that I should actually start taking notes on our conversation, because writing a post about a town populated entirely by succubi sounds awesome.

The City of Al Uzzara
Colloquially known as “Succubus Town,” or just “Sex City,” Al Uzzara is an opulent metropolis located on the 570th layer of the Abyss; Malcanthet’s Domain. Unlike many parts of the abyss it is generally considered a pleasant place to visit. The entire permanent population of Al Uzzara are succubi and incubi, and within the city limits these otherwise evil creatures seem intent on nothing but making their guests comfortable and happy during their stay.

Unfortunately, no one is able to truthfully explain precisely how their stay was made pleasant. A permanent and powerful enchantment on the city of Al Uzzara causes any non-succubus who visits to completely forget anything which happened there within an hour of their departure. All they are left with is a vague sensation of how they felt about their stay.

Atmosphere
On the surface, Al Uzzara is a place where any being can satisfy their carnal urges easily and cheaply. Every inn doubles as a brothel, and every eating establishment is accompanied by a burlesque show. Demons are the city’s most common patrons, but beings of many cultures which view planar travel as commonplace visit Al Uzzara frequently. Even humanoids are a common enough sight here, though few creatures of a goodly alignment ever willingly travel to the abyss.

The succubic residents of Al Uzzara happily alter their mannerisms, their forms, even their gender, so as to appeal to the aesthetic sensibilities of their visitors. And succubi are very good at determining a creature’s innermost desires. The guile and trickery which is known throughout the multiverse to be synonymous with succubi seems conspicuously absent here. Most who venture here become overwhelmed by the decadent possibilities to dwell on that curiosity. Those few who do look beyond the surface of Al Uzzara quickly find the natives to be much less friendly. If they are unlucky enough to actually discover anything, they may never return from the city of sex.

In truth, the city is, literally, a breeding ground of demonic soldiers and slaves. The succubi of Al Uzzara entice their male visitors to engage in as much debauched sex as possible, allowing the succubi to give birth to demon spawn which may then be sold as troops for the generals of the blood war, or as slaves to anyone who desires them. Female visitors are likewise encouraged to entertain their wildest desires, only to then be drugged, and have their gestation periods magically accelerated. When they awake they will never know what evil’s they’ve helped bring into existence.

Layout
Al Uzzara is a walled city, with many high towers and sky bridges overlooking the beautiful, but deadly, gardens of the 570th layer of the abyss. It is divided into a number of districts designed to appeal to a variety of archetypical sexual predilections. There are posh pleasure palaces, and lascivious libraries. A district of seedy back alley debauchery, and one of not-so-chaste religious figures–though none of the churches here are consecrated of course. There are even areas of the city for those who like to dominate, or be dominated by others. The city’s main roads are designed to allow visitors to travel directly to an area which suits their desires, without passing into an area they may not want to visit.

The Nexus: All throughout Al Uzzara are hidden doors. Every bedchamber, every harem, every place where a visitor might think themselves alone (save their companionship) is accessible from the nexus. It is a circular stone chamber, buried deep beneath the deepest basements of the city above. Seven ascending ramps spiral outward from the bottom of the chamber. Every few feet along the wall of the chamber is a portal, showing a view of the chamber it leads to. Walking through the portal causes one to appear in some innocuous place out of sight of the room’s occupants. The Nexus is used both to carry female guests to the birthing chamber, and to secretly switch out a male guest’s companions, so that his previous companions may visit the birthing chamber.

The Birthing Chamber: A short hallway at the bottom of the Nexus leads to the Birthing Chamber. Succubi, inherently capable of controlling their own reproductive process, visit here only to drop off their spawn in cages to be sold later. For the non-succubi who are brought here, there are a rows of comfortable couches attended by succubi particularly adept in sorcerous magics. They accelerate the gestation periods of these females, dull their pain and heal any damage caused by the birthing, then call on others to carry them back through the nexus while their young are prepared for sale.

The Horns: The horns are the two tallest buildings in Al Uzzara. They are conically shaped–wide at the base, and rising to a point at the top. This is the only visible portion of the city which visitors are not allowed to access, and in fact, it can only be accessed by one with the ability to fly. The right tower is the seat of the city’s government. Malcanthet reigns supreme over Al Uzzara, as she does over the entire 570th layer, but she rarely visits this city. The rule of Al Uzzara is largely left to a council of 30 succubi, whose primary concerns are drawing willing victims to the city, and bartering deals with those who wish to purchase the slaves the city produces. The left tower is home to the city’s enforcers, collectively known as biters. Violence and conflict are rare in Al Uzzara, and when they occur there is normally a succubus on hand who can easily handle the situation themselves. The biters primarily concern themselves with watching for any who have remained in the city too long, or who seem to be paying too much attention to how the city is run.

Monstrous Culture

Culture is important. No matter how much of an individual we think we are, each and every one of us is shaped by our culture in profound ways which we aren’t even aware of. For example, those of us who pride ourselves on individualism? We probably come from cultures, like the U.S., which emphasize individualism as a positive trait. Given all the fundamental ways in which our culture shapes us, it should be obvious that understanding a person’s culture is an essential element in understanding their outlook. Where am I going with this?

The cultures of the most basic, most iconic monstrous races in fantasy adventure games are all shit. And it ought to change, because I’m tired of ostensibly different creatures being functionally identical. Take, for example, four of the paragon monstrous races which have been harassing adventurers since first edition D&D: Orcs, Goblins, Kobolds, and Gnolls. Below, I’ve reduced the small amounts of cultural information for each of those races, taken from the Pathfinder Bestiary, to bullet points. If you’d like to check my work, these monsters can be found on pages 155, 156, 183, and 222.

Orcs…
Are violent and aggressive.
Are led by whoever is strongest.
Take what they want by force.
Don’t have regard for the lives of others.
Are not good at farming or herding.
Prefer to take things from others rather than earn those things for themselves.
Their largest group is a “band.”

Goblins…
Are filled with hatred.
Live in dark places and caves.
Are superstitious.
Scavenge items from the more civilized races rather than producing anything for themselves.
Are universally illiterate.
Their larges group is a “tribe.”

Kobolds…
Live in caves and other dark places.
Are overly proud of their distant relationship to dragons.
Are cowardly.
Are schemers.
Prefer to attack in large groups.
Their largest group is a “tribe.”

Gnolls…
Prefer to scavange or steal kills, rather than hunt themselves.
View non-Gnolls as either meat, or slaves.
Enjoy fighting, but only if they have an overwhelming advantage.
See no value in courage or valor.
Their largest group is a “tribe.”

Based on those elements, how different are those four really? Is a goblin’s rage significantly different from the violence and aggressiveness of orcs? Why do Orcs, Goblins, and Gnolls all universally prefer to take rather than to make? The similarities become even more obvious if you expand the cultural definitions beyond what is found in the scant few lines offered in the bestiary. Ask any gamer to give you the primary characteristic of goblins, and I’ll bet you a shiny new platinum piece that they’ll say “cowardice” nine times out of ten. That makes three out of four monstrous races which, despite supposedly being threatening, are culturally defined by their cowardice.

Most people who play tabletop games are familiar with the phrase “humans in funny hats.” A human in a funny hat is a non-human character who is played without regard for race defining characteristics. Such as a dwarf who doesn’t care for gold, or ale, or stonework, and prefers to live above ground. Such characters are, essentially, being played as humans. They’re merely wearing the skin, or the ‘hat,’ of another race.

Here I think we’re dealing with a similar problem. Out of four monsters, most of their cultural traits overlap with each other. The problem only becomes more pronounced if you begin to add more creatures, such as lizardfolk or bugbears. In the end there really seems to be only one or two different types of monster cultures in play, reiterated through lizard people, dog people, dragon people, green people, small green people, and so on. A GM who wants his players to face a large force of angry, marauding creatures without regard for human life could sub in any one of these races without needing to alter how his or her campaign is constructed at all.

I’d like to try to develop legitimately distinct cultures for each of the monstrous races in my campaigns, starting with these four.

Orcs
I’m rather fond of the “noble savage” version of orcs put forth in the Warcraft games. I’m not sure where this depiction of orcs originates, but I think it has merit. A race which is warlike and brutal, but which also holds honor above all other concerns. Of course, different Orcish subcultures define honor on their own terms. For some it might mean victory in fair combat, for others it might simply mean the number of notches on a warrior’s axe.

Given their warlike nature, I would think that Orcs are carnivorous rather than omnivorous. They are master hunters, and the hunt is a central theme in their culture. Orcs often attack other orcs, or other races, on sight. Orcs who have not spent a great deal of time amongst other races will not understand that non-orcs do not view fighting and death to be desirable.

Given their constant warring, both with themselves and with other races, most Orcish tribes lag far behind other species technologically.

Goblins
Of all the monstrous races, I think goblins are most fit to keep most of the traditional monster culture. They are a weak and cowardly tribal people, who feel anger and rage more strongly than any of their other emotions. Since they rely on each other for self preservation, they turn their anger outward, towards other races. Though plenty of goblin squabbles still turn deadly.

They are a sadistic lot, and enjoy taking out their anger and their hate on those who can’t properly defend themselves; be it small animals, commoners, or adventurers unprepared for the sheer number of goblins they faced.

Goblins are also stupid and superstitious, often attributing magical or divine properties to the mundane. And lastly, goblins are scavengers. They live in caves or in abandoned structures, and like to collect items stolen from other races.

Kobolds
I went over some of my thoughts on Kobolds in my recent Magical Marvels post. I view them as a humble people, who look to dragons as their great rulers or heroes. They recognize that they are weak, and do not seek to prove themselves in combat against other groups or races. Their unassuming nature has made them the doormats of the world, which has prevented them from becoming as technologically advanced as the other races. And since most kobolds prefer to spend their entire lives living with their tribe, few kobolds go out into the world to bring knowledge back to their people.

Their lack of advancement is a shame, because despite their humble nature, kobolds are remarkably clever. The very few who do manage to summon the courage to leave their people, and then are lucky enough to encounter kindly and learned fellows, have proven to be quick learners. More than one great general throughout history has kept a kobold adviser. Many great researchers and wizards have also had kobold assistants. In candid moments, those generals, researchers, and wizards might even admit that some of their great accomplishments were really the work of their kobold associate.

Gnolls
Gnolls are, essentially, 9ft tall intelligent Hyenas. So we just need to scroll down to the behavior section of the wikipedia page and…well some of the basic traits I outlined above actually work pretty well. Gnolls are scavengers and kill stealers. However, they are anything but cowardly as fighters. They fight ferociously, and without mercy. Their greater size compared to other humanoids instills them with great confidence in combat–but they are not above flight if they feel they are outmatched. As noted above, Gnolls do not hold valor as a virtue.

Gnolls are relatively smart, but simple and lazy. They do what they need to do to fill their needs: eating, sleeping, and reproducing. Once they’ve got those things taken care of, they don’t care much for anything else.

NOTE: It occurs to me, having written this, that Paizo has released both a “Goblins of Golarion,” and an “Orcs of Golarion” supplement. It is possible that these concerns are partially addressed in those booklettes. I think the larger issue remains valid, though.

Star Wars: Periods for Play

I thought I’d round out Star Wars week with a summary of the classic time periods available to Game Masters. The political and social landscape of the galaxy changes drastically as time progresses in the Star Wars Universe. Each provides unique opportunities for adventure. And while you may want to stick to what you’re already familiar with (either from the films, or from books you’ve read) this list can help foster ideas about where you’d like to take your games as time progresses in your own little version of the Star Wars Universe. Or, perhaps, even give you an idea of which periods you’d like to look into further.

As with all Star Wars posts, this list focuses on the classic Star Wars trilogy and the fiction based on it, rather than anything based on the prequel films, which were bad. For those unaware, the Battle of Yavin (where the first Death Star is destroyed) is used as year zero. Dates are measured as either Before the Battle of Yavin (BBY) or After the Battle of Yavin (ABY).

Pre-Rebellion Imperial Era
From the establishment of Palpatine’s New Order in 19 BBY, to the signing of the Corellian Treaty in 2 BBY

Most of the truly iconic imperial technology had not yet been deployed during this period. The Death Star was, obviously, still being designed and built. And ship types such as the Imperial Star Destroyer, and the Executor Class Star Destroyer (or “Super” Star Destroyer) were likewise still on the drawing table. Though some would have been under construction in secret shipyards owned by Kuat. The Emperor also humors the Imperial Senate, providing the illusion of representative government.

There is no organized resistance to the Empire. There are many dissident groups, but they are independent from one another, and easily crushed by the Empire. It isn’t until two years prior to the Battle of Yavin that a group of Imperial Senators, in an act of treason, sign The Corellian Treaty, bringing the disparate rebel groups together to form The Rebel Alliance.

Rebellion Era
From the signing of the Corellian Treaty in 2 BBY, to the Battle of Endor in 4 ABY

Also known as the First Galactic Civil War, this period is probably the most well known, as it takes place primarily during the original trilogy of films. The Rebel Alliance and Empire engage in a brutal conflict. Many of the Empire’s most notable atrocities and most terrifying weapons occur during this period: the destruction of Alderaan by the Death Star, and the creation of the Executor class Star Destroyer among them.

Early New Republic Era
From the Battle of Endor in 4 ABY, to the Conquest of Coruscant in 7 ABY

After the death of both Emperor Palpatine and Darth Vader at the Battle of Endor, the Galactic Empire is thrown into chaos. A whirlwind of successors hold the reigns of power for a short time, only to be assassinated or otherwise removed from power. Sometimes a single leader dominates, other times a small group will declare itself a ruling council of some kind. Meanwhile, more and more powerful Imperial leaders simply split off from the Empire, becoming Warlords.

In the days after the Battle of Endor, an interim government is formed by the Rebel Alliance, calling itself the Alliance of Free Planets. And one month after the battle of Endor, the Declaration of a New Republic is issued. Planets begin breaking off from the Empire immediately, joining the New Republic. Imperial responses to these “secessionists” is sporadic at best. Most of the New Republic still relies on secret bases, but the government makes itself visible. The New Republic continues to be viewed as a feeble government, in its infancy, until the conquest of Coruscant three years after the death of Palpatine.

New Republic Era
From the Conquest of Coruscant in 7 ABY, to the signing of the Pellaeon-Gavrisom Treaty in 19 ABY

The New Republic consistently grows in power, whilst the Empire becomes continually weaker. There are some brief periods of upheaval, in which the Empire surges and becomes a serious threat to the stability of the New Republic, such as the dreaded Thrawn Crisis, or the brief rule of the Reborn Emperor.

This is simultaneously one of the most and least varied periods in Star Wars history. On the one hand, the number of major events which occurred during this period are numerous and interesting. Yet when all is said and done, everything returned to more or less the status quo.

The Empire’s territories steadily shrink during this period, until Fleet Admiral Gilad Pellaeon, as supreme commander of the Empire, with the backing of the Moff Council, signs the Pellaeon-Gavrisom treaty, ending the 21 year Galactic Civil War.

One other major event occurs during this period which will shape the fate of the galaxy through the future: Luke Skywalker establishes his Jedi Praxeum on Yavi IV in the year 11 ABY, officially beginning the training of a new generation of Jedi Knights.

Late New Republic Era
From the signing of the Pellaeon Gavrisom Treaty in 19 ABY to the start of the Yuuzhan Vong War in 25 ABY

Remarkably little has ever been written about this period. Primarily just the children’s books and young adult novels written about the youthful adventures of Han and Leia’s children and their friends. So aside from those relatively minor threats to galactic peace, these few years are a time of relative tranquility in the galaxy.

New Jedi Order Era
From the start of the Yuuzhan Vong War in 25 ABY with the First Battle of Helska, to the end of said war in 29 ABY with the Liberation of Coruscant.

The Yuuzhan Vong invade the galaxy, initiating one of the most brutal and bloody wars in galactic history. The Yuuzhan Vong’s organic technology is, at first, completely invulnerable to any attempts to attack it. Thousands of worlds are conquered by this technology-hating species, and completely reformed to fit the needs of the Yuuzhan Vong. Trillions upon Trillions of beings are killed, and many completely loose hope that anyone can stand against the onslaught.

The New Republic has grown complacent and weak in the years since the treaty with the Empire, and is ill prepared to handle the invasion. It consistently makes major blunders, and eventually loses control of Coruscant to the invading Yuzzhan Vong hordes. After the death of Chief of State Borsk Fey’lya, along with much of the senate, Cal Omas was elected leader of the New Republic. And shortly after the New Republic victory at the Battle of Ebaq 9, it was decided that a new, more united government would be required if the war was to be won.

And so the New Republic was dissolved, and reformed as The Galactic Alliance, which also included the Imperial Remnant, as well as the Hapes Consortium. And, with the cooperation of the Chiss Ascendancy and the Jedi Order, the Galactic Alliance was able to push back the Yuuzhan Vong, defeat their war machine, and make peace with those who remained.

Galactic Alliance Era
From the Liberation of Coruscant in 29 ABY, to the blundered Operation Roundabout in 40 ABY, sparking the Second Galactic Civil War.

This is yet another period of relative calm, like the late New Republic era. The damage done during the Yuuzhan Vong war is never fully undone, but much effort is invested by the Galactic Alliance in trying to soothe the wounds of the war. Finding new homes for a planet’s worth of refugees, and so forth.

Second Galactic Civil War Era
From Operation Roundabout in 40 ABY, to the Battle of Shedu Maad in 41 ABY

The planet Corellia begins to express a lack of satisfaction with Galactic Alliance rule, and talks of succession. The two governments posture at one another, until a series of blunders leads to an all out war between Corellia and the Galactic Alliance. Neither side has the moral high ground in this conflict. More than any war prior to it, the Second Galactic Civil War pits family members against one another.

Guided by Sith teachings, the grandson of Darth Vader, Jacen Solo, gradually assumes power over the Galactic Alliance, and takes the name Darth Caedus for himself. Under his leadership, the Galactic Alliance becomes as loathsome as Palpatine’s empire before it. The Hapes Consortium withdraws from the Galactic Alliance, and the Jedi Order abandons it.

Darth Caedus is killed at the Battle of Shedu Maad by his sister. Natasi Daala is named Chief of State of the Galactic Alliance.

Star Wars: Creating Atmosphere

Atmosphere is essential to creating an authentic Star Wars experience for your players. A good GM knows that atmosphere is important in any game. But Star Wars presents a unique challenge, because the goal isn’t creating an atmosphere which enhances feelings of dread or excitement. The goal is to create a far more specific atmosphere which enhances the illusion that the players are acting out a continuation of the Star Wars films. There’s a certain feel to the Star Wars mythos, one which sets it apart from other internally consistent fictional universes. It’s a dirty, gritty place, yet never a hopeless place. It’s a universe of stark contrasts between good and evil, where even characters who exist as a shade of gray have picked a de facto side.

The West End Games core rulebook for the Star Wars Roleplaying Game (second edition, revised and expanded) has some great tips for creating the Star Wars atmosphere. These are some of my own thoughts on how to enhance that atmosphere.

Used Universe
One of the core principals behind the original Star Wars films was the Used Universe philosophy. Unlike other future-tech media, which was filled with gleaming white, or worse, chrome technology, the Star Wars universe is a dirty patchwork which breaks down half the time. Many other works of fiction, such as Firefly, have adopted the used universe philosophy, and it is arguably the most important part of the Star Wars atmosphere.

Very little in a Star Wars game should look pristine and new. Even the ships of the Imperial Navy should have obvious score marks from battles, off-color hull plates where replacements were added, and corrosion here and there. Outside the Imperial Navy, this should be even worse. The ships of the rebellion, or ships owned by smugglers and pirates, often have multicolored hulls from the numerous replacement hull plates which have been installed over the years. And the interiors should be no better. Things get piled in corridors or empty store rooms, sections of ships might even be completely shut down to save on precious energy if money is tight.

Ancient Universe
Have you ever really thought about the line “For over a thousand generations the Jedi Knights were the guardians of peace and justice in the Old Republic?” That means the old republic must have existed for at 1001 generations. A generation is an imprecise method of describing time, but even by lowballing and saying that one generation is equal to thirty years, we’re talking about a single government which lasted longer than the entire history of human civilization. And before the rise of the Old Republic, there must have been hundreds or thousands more generations of pre-republic history.

Nobody remembers a time before traveling around the universe was commonplace. No planet has a history which is unaffected by the existence of interstellar travel–at least no history which anyone remembers.

That said, it doesn’t mean there are no unexplored planets. And there’s always the unknown regions to provide unknown challenges.

Tactile Universe
The original Star Wars films were made in the late seventies and early eighties, and reflect the technology of the period. In the cockpit of the Millennium Falcon, Han solo flips switches, adjusts levers, and even spins dials. Holograms are grainy and heavily tinted to green or blue, and computer readouts are primitive, to say the least. This can create cognitive dissonance for players who already own technology much more advanced than that seen in Star Wars. The handheld comlink Luke Skywalker uses to tell C-3PO to shut down the garbage masher doesn’t really stand up when it’s compared to a Samsung Galaxy II, or whatever the kids are excited about this week.

This dissonance can be solved somewhat by mixing your tech levels based on the technology being used. Ships and military hardware, for example, should have more tactile controls. Mechanical parts which need to be physically manipulated in order to bring about the desired effect. This can be explained as simpler hardware being more reliable than touch screens and fancy high definition readouts. Don’t be afraid to mix a little bit of high-end future tech in there as well, though. Traditionally, datapads have always been a kind of cross between an e-reader and a TI-85 calculator. But there’s no reason you couldn’t let your players use them as tablet computers.

Fantasy, not Science Fiction
Star Wars should never be confused with science fiction. There’s nothing scientific about it. The distinctive scream of a TIE fighter would never be heard in the vacuum of space, no planet could ever exist as a single biome, lightsabers make no sense, and The Force is magic. A Star Wars GM could never make a bigger mistake than enforcing the laws of science onto the fantastical universe of Star Wars.

That’s all there really is to say on the matter.

Droids Like Their Lot
Stories which take place in space tend to fall into two groups. Either there are no robots, or very very few robots, such as in Firefly or Star Trek. Or robots are omnipresent, but they’re secretly plotting the downfall of humanity, such as in the Terminator or Matrix films. Such stories often place emphasis on the balance between how advanced artificial intelligence has become, and whether humanity has granted civil rights to those artificial intelligences. Personally I take the Speaker For the Dead / Questionable Content position on this issue, but that’s neither here nor there.

In Star Wars, robots (which are always referred to as droids, despite rarely being androids of any kind) are both highly intelligent, and completely content with their subservient position to the organic species of the galaxy. There are a handful of exceptions within Star Wars cannon. IG-88 and 8T88 are both good examples. And, of course, there was the great droid revolution, but that was an isolated incident.

Their contentment with subservience doesn’t mean they’re always docile, or even that they’re content under whichever master currently owns them. More highly intelligent droids can do plenty of grumbling, and R2-D2 is notoriously sarcastic, even with his beloved master Luke. Droids can have very strong personalities, but it’s unlikely that they’ll ever actually turn on their masters without outside interference, such as a malicious hacker (or “slicer” in star wars terminology).

Unique Terminology
A GM who isn’t a devoted Star Wars fan might find this to be more trouble than it is worth, but I for one find the unique terminology of the Star Wars universe to be an important element of immersion. Many things which exist on earth, and also within Star Wars, have alternate names. Paper is Flimsi, Coffee is Caff, and a bar is a Tapcaff. I could create a list of cross-referenced terms (like some kind of English to Star Wars dictionary) and might actually do so at some point, but simply making a point to use the terms you’re already aware of can be helpful.

In the same vein, it’s good to make use of Star Wars’ unique slang and material names. You, like me, may feel that “Bantha Fodder” is a shitty sub-in for the word “shit,” but many of the later novels have done a good job of creating more organic sounding profanity. Words like “Sithspit,” “Stang” or “Karking” have the kind of punch we expect from profanity. Other examples of slang include “Eyeball” for a TIE fighter, “Squint” for a TIE Interceptor, or “Impstar Deuce” for an Imperial Star Destroyer Mark II. And it never hurts to make up your own. Just remember to avoid making up terms which sound as goofy as “Bantha Fodder.”

As a quick example of how helpful this can be, consider this scenario: Your players are rebel commandos. They’re on a transport on their way to a mission. As they come out of Hyperspace, the NPC pilot exclaims:

“Shit! There’s a Star Destroyer out there. Looks like a victory class, and it’s launching TIEs! Man the guns, people!”

There’s nothing wrong with that, but I don’t think it holds up well when compared to a more flavorful exclamation:

“Sithspit! There’s karking Star Destroyer, looks like a Vic. And it’s deploying squints! Get to the quads!”