Jun 26 2025

One Method to Prep for Improvisation

I’ve been fine-tuning and honing a process for prep geared towards improvisation. I’ve been practicing it over the past couple of years. It was inspired by Mythic Bastionland but now it supports games like Spire, OSE, and Cloud Empress. This prep system is hacked together from the existing work of rad folks like Luke Gearing and Chris McDowell, so I’m simply standing on their shoulders.

The system’s meant to support sandbox play since that’s my current favorite, but it can also easily support other narratively focused play styles as well with a few changes to the ref’s perspective. This is simply an attempt to paint a very clear picture of the routine I go through for each game. This will cover prep leading up to Session 0 or whatever your equivalent might be. Then, it will detail the upkeep as you progress through an arc or campaign.

If it’s helpful context, I’m a musician, and I only advanced in my musical skillset through regular, consistent practice based on easily repeatable small processes. I believe the same is true for something like prep. Take everything below with that grain of bias-salt.

Encounter Collections

  1. Prep 1 collection of 6 specific encounter entries. Build this collection around a central character, faction, community, population, location, item, idea, problem, or theme in your game.
  2. If you need a method to generate content for each of the 6 encounter entries in the collection, try using 4 sparks combined to produce 6 results. A B C D combines into AB AC AD BC BD CD.
  3. Limit yourself to 50 words or less per encounter entry.
  4. Prep the encounter collection in three phases. First, do a rough pass at each entry without spending much time on flavor and flare. Iron out the core components and connections, then move on to the next entry. Then, go back and give each entry a fine pass to tune everything to your liking. Finally, go back and give each entry a flavorful pass to add extra flair and polish to each one.
  5. Each entry can be loosely connected to each other entry to promote sandbox play. This might support rolling randomly to select which entry from this collection the players meet next. Alternatively, each entry can progress logically from one to the next, escalating the stakes and momentum towards conclusion potential. I’ve found both formats very useful. Just be aware that you might have to rewrite the latter type of encounter more often when running a campaign and prepping between sessions.
  6. Don’t use if/then statements when writing each entry. Just make factual statements about the current in-game situation. Describe what things are doing right now, not what might happen.
  7. Introduce people, places, and things with each entry, but try to avoid repeating the same exact person, place, or thing in each collection. Having the same bit appear multiple places within the 6 entries can sometimes create tricky dependencies to navigate. That said, if you enjoy surreal or surprise-oriented play-styles, lean into the absurdity that might arise from contradictory entries. Alternatively, for a more focused presentation, try hinting at signs of a central person, place, or thing in multiple entries throughout the encounter collection before finally revealing the central element in an entry.
  8. To avoid entries that feel scripted and to make each one reusable, create rollable options within an entry so that the entry surprises you each time you use it. (1) This is happening. (2-3) This time around, it’s this. (4-6) Surprise, now it’s this.
  9. As often as possible, connect something from one encounter entry to another encounter entry. This can be from the same encounter collection or from an entirely different encounter collection. I usually default to at least two connections to other encounter entries, but you can scale up or down depending on your needs.

Repeat this process to suit the scale of your game. I’d recommend 6 collections as a starting point for an average 10-12 session arc, but you can expand this to cover a longer campaign or shrink it to cover a one-off or short arc.

Treat these collections of encounters as your lore. Instead of creating pages of linear backstory and history, put everything you can into these dynamic encounter collections first. Go back after you make all the encounter collections and their connections to one another to create pages of prosaic lore if you absolutely must.

Even then, stick to 100 words or less.

Better yet, try this instead.

Give Everything Mien Tables Instead of Lore

I ripped this directly from Troika’s mien tables. These entries are similar to the encounter collections from before in that you’ll write 6 entries per person, place, or thing. Try doing this only for very important bits first. You can aways add more mien tables later.

  1. Use each entry to describe what this person, place, or thing might be doing in the game world right now. Each entry should be an activity instead of a situation.
  2. Write them like you wrote the encounter collections. Do a rough pass, then a fine pass, then a flavor pass.
  3. Use the ABCD spark combination method if you need an assist. Lean into the contradictions and find the opportunities for synthesis.
  4. Connect each potential activity to a related encounter collection or a related mien table from another entry.
  5. Do not use if/then to proscribe their behavior. Describe in-game potential as an ongoing action instead.
  6. Add mechanical options like x-in-6 or other rolls specific to your game system to shake things up.

If needed, write 100 words or less as a TLDR for each person, place, or thing. Do this after you’ve created its mien table and anchored its connections. Better yet, do this instead.

Give Everything a Rumor

Pick an encounter collection entry or a mien result. Write a rumor or two about it. Do this for as much as you have time for, and you’ll have a living breathing world full of hot takes and intrigue. The more rumors, the more rich your world becomes, at the cost of increasing the mental load for your players.

Modifying Prep Between Sessions

After completing this initial prep, run your first session. Then, do the following in between each session.

  1. If player impact on the game world makes an existing entry impossible, irrelevant, or incoherent, rewrite it using the same methods you did initially. Change only the components you need to and leave as much as-is as possible.
  2. If something doesn’t fit anymore for any other reason, just change it.
  3. If player impact on the game world has introduced new people, places, or things, prep encounter collections and mien entries for the new elements between sessions. If you’re stretched for time, ask your players what they might do in the next session and focus on prepping that with your limited time.
  4. When your players show repeated interest in anything about your game world, add the person, place, or thing to a running list of sparks. When your players have a good idea, add something about it to the list of sparks. When your players have a bad idea, add something about it to the list of sparks. Use this expanding list to generate more collections and mien entries later. By doing this, you’ll mix your vision of the game world with the elements that excite your players. This will help you run a better game.

The Point

The goal of this method is to move the focus of prep to zoom in on what’s happening in-game right now. Put past events and histories into powder keg encounter entries that already have forward momentum. Put lore into the dynamic potential actions of mien tables. This minimizes the quantity of your prep and maximizes the explosive effect of your lore.

Use your session notes and recaps as your only dedicated place for prosaic lore. If the players did it, it’s canon. Honor the impact of their decisions as though it’s written into the very fabric of the game mechanics.

Example Encounter Collection

Components

Dragon (A) + Anger (B) + Ash (C) + Curse (D)

AB = Dragon Anger

AC = Dragon Ash

AD = Dragon Curse

BC = Anger + Ash

BD = Anger + Curse

CD = Ash + Curse

Reordered below to escalate towards a conclusion.

Entries

  1. Anger Ash. A nearby village lies covered in ash that rained down from the heavens overnight. Praetor Ajax screams from the square that the village’s deeds have brought this on, while many farmers retort hotly that it is Praetor Ajax’s dark magicks that have brought this on.
  2. Ash Curse. A parent wails from their stoop, cursing the way of the pyromantic sorcerers. Their child lies in their arms, crumbling swiftly. The child (1) whispers the name of the Great Dragon (2-3) chokes loudly before crumbling completely (4-6) glows from within as embers make their home deep within.
  3. Anger Curse. The great Wurm Seer descends from their nearby hut, issuing a winding, swirling death-curse that swiftly hunts those who would breach the old agreement with the Great Dragon. 1-in-6 chance of 1d4 (1-3) ash-cursed or (4-6) pyromantic sorcerers nearby.
  4. Dragon Ash. A great pile of ash, undisturbed for centuries. The evidence of the last covenant between the Great Dragon and those of the old ways. 1d8 pyromantic sorcerers dance feverishly here, throwing white coals into the pile hoping to reawaken the Fanged Curse to spite the Great Dragon.
  5. Dragon Curse. A gargantuan twisting serpent, the avatar of the Fanged Curse, writhes nearby, careening through anything in its path. It chokes the air around it with black ash. Its silver fangs drip with mercury ichor, pure poison to the molten heart of the Great Dragon.
  6. Dragon Anger. The Great Dragon descends, furious at the breach of the covenant by the pyromantic sorcerers. Stars shudder overhead. The earth cracks. Father earth belches forth its molten hatred. Fire and bone and earth shall meld once more beneath the breath of the Great Dragon. This time, to reforge a new, stricter covenant on humanity.

Example Mien Table. Praetor Ajax.

  1. Proselytizing to anyone who will listen, invoking the authority of the dark rune he carries with him as an all-knowing guide.
  2. Whispering to a small meteorite, oblivious to his surroundings. Small delicate tendrils reach up from the small holes in the space rock.
  3. Conjuring a pyromantic sorcery in defiance of the covenant with the Great Dragon. He reaches into the flame to pull out (1) a newly formed dragonling (2-3) a ruby hot with embers (4-6) nothing, as this is simply a test of mind over matter.
  4. Delivering food to a villager’s hut. His daughter wastes away within, suffering from a blight conjured from the ash that chokes the surroundings.
  5. Praying to a small figurine of a scaled snake with silver fangs. Begs for mercy and to spare all from the rage of the Great Father.
  6. Hums a long forgotten tune, a ballad telling the tale of the glory of the Wurm Seer. Ajax seems to chuckle in disbelief as the lines pour across his lips.

Sparks

  1. Great Dragon skytop nest
  2. Player A’s reputation as a liar
  3. Spear that once pierced the Great Dragon
  4. Exiled water elemental
  5. Player A and B lived here once
  6. Etc…
Dec 13 2024

Mythic Bastionland Magic System

Runic Bastionquest

In addition to rolling dice to perform attacks and gambits, a PC may also roll dice to use rune magic associated with their cult’s runes. They may also roll dice to use spirit magic associated with any spirits that favor them.

Rune and spirit magic always succeeds.

The caster may use their cult’s runes as sparks for the spell’s effects.

The caster rolls and spends dice to determine the potency, range, and magnitude of the spell. Dice may also be added together in any combination. The resulting total(s) may be spent to modify the range, potency, and/or magnitude.

A spell has the following tags by default.

Each total assigned to a spell’s range, potency, and magnitude may modify the tag according to the following thresholds.

The caster may choose how many dice they roll from their cult rank. Lay ranks start at d4. Initiate ranks start at d8. Heroic and priestly ranks start at d12.

If the caster’s spell shares a rune affinity with another character’s cult, that character may help the caster with one dice from their cult rank. This dice may modify the caster’s range, potency, and magnitude.

The caster may also spend a d4, d8, or d12 of SPI to further modify the spell by the amount spent. At 0 SPI, the caster becomes exhausted from the drain on their inner power and connection to their god.

After casting a spell, if any tag reached a threshold of 8 or more, a character must pass a SPI save to continue using magic, otherwise they must attend a holy day, make an offering, or do some other act in service of the cult.

  1. Collect dice from the cult rank used for the spell, plus 1 dice for additional SPI spent to augment the spell.
  2. Collect dice from other helping characters, 1 each.
  3. Roll all dice at the same time as attack dice.
  4. Combine and assign spell dice to modify each spell tag: range, potency, and/or magnitude.
  5. Roll a SPI save to continue using magic if any tag was assigned an 8+.

Example 1

Arfur has been sailing aimlessly on a giant silver lake in the mist for days. Suddenly, a great serpent rears its head out of the water just off the prow of the ship. Arfur calls upon the iron hand-hammered runes of water and light that hang from a leather cord around his neck. Arfur serves the Twilight Seer cult, associated with the runes of water and light. He moves to the front of the ship to whip up something to banish this scaled monstrosity.

Mila, who is playing Arfur, picks up a d4 for the cult rank with the Twilight Seer, since Arfur is only a brand new member of the cult. Mila then decides, fuck it, this could be the end of Arfur and it’s better to potentially exhaust Arfur rather than die. Maybe someone will come along in the aftermath to help. So Mila picks up a d12 to spend SPI for a potential effect at the price of Arfur’s own equivalent SPI loss. Sadly, Arfur is alone on the boat so there is no one to lend their power to him, so Mila only rolls two dice.

Mila rolls her d4 and d12. She rolls a 4 and a 9. She decides to assign her 4 to the Range of the spell, bumping it up from Here to There. She then assigns her 9 to Potency, bumping it up from No Effect to Heroic Effect, with a potential d8 of Damage to the serpent or its virtues.

The ref asks Mila for a description of what she conjures and what she wants Arfur to achieve. She tells the table how Arfur, staring down the jaws of defeat, conjures a swirling mirror vortex just off the prow of the boat. Its surface is a nearly perfect reflective surface and for the first time, the serpent sees its own reflection. Mila wants the serpent to flee in terror. The ref rules that this’ll inflict the spell’s Heroic Effect level of d8 in Virtue Loss to the serpent’s SPI. The ref also indicates it’s likely the serpent will flee, and rolls an open SPI save in front of Mila. Mila quickly picks up her d8 and rolls a staggering 8! The serpent’s SPI of 13 withers to a SPI of 5. The SPI save comes in at a pathetic 19, well over the Serpent’s new SPI of 5.

The ref describes how the serpent shrieks and veers just to the port side of the ship, raking the side planks with its razor scales. Its tail spasms back and forth as it flees from its own reflection in the mist. The ref reminds Mila to take 9 Virtue Loss from SPI for the d12 she chose to roll when casting the spell. Arfur plummets to SPI 0 and collapses onto the soaked deck of the ship. The ref and Mila agree that Arfur sleeps for a time, eventually waking to a strange spectral apparition of the Twilight Seer sitting on the rails of the ship, smirking ever so gently at Arfur. . .

Nov 25 2024

Bone Seekers

TLDR: Sprawling and charitable ossifiers, bone reclamation scavengers, and the revered devotees of the Ossiflower

Omens

  1. A fresh Bone Seeker acolyte named Marna-lange struggles to reclaim an ivory-colored lamppost at a street corner in this little five points. It is their first assignment as a Bone Seeker and they are very anxious.
  2. Three anointed Bone Seeker Inguinalistas are attempting to collect a debt of bones owed by a formerly prominent but now-disgraced noble of Bastion. The Inguinalistas have begun incantations of ossification, but the noble is attempting to awake the primal nature of their borrowed bones to resist.
  3. An old, venerated Bone Seeker Claviclast is diagnosing the sudden ossification of a young innocent. The Claviclast relays that the bone sprouts came on quickly and without Bone Seeker involvement — that he knows of or admits. It will not be long now for the little one unless something is done soon.
  4. Two brutish Bone Seeker Triquetral Quisitors wander aimlessly as their brain matter solidifies. They are tethered by a dense lattice of bone that creaks and snaps as they wander. Each ossified sinew quickly reforms after it breaks. One of you knows one of the Quisitors by name.
  5. A prayer ad blasts from an overhead zeppelin, asking for donations from Bastion citizens of this particular borough. The sick and dying are promised a prominent spot in a soon-to-come holy place known only as the Bone Garden — if they donate half of their in-use bones.
  6. A titanic structure — The Ossiflower — looms over the borough, erected out of the bones of Bastion-folk as a landing place for the vengeful skeletal form of an ancient, titanic, winged saurian beast. It has returned after years of exile in The Underground to wreak vengeance on the arrogant noble that rules this borough. The noble slew the great beast in mid-flight to the Seventh Moon during the height of a lavish New Year’s party, interrupting its millennial migratory pattern. The beast’s rage cascades over innocent and guilty alike.

Rumours

  1. The Bone Seekers mean well and are capable healers, but an ancient curse causes their touch to bring corruption more often than not.
  2. The only trustworthy member of the Bastion City Council is an ancient, solidified Bone Seeker woman who commands a cadre of sprite-spirits.
  3. The Bone Seekers once had an island off the coast of Deep Country in the Iron Sea with a massive throne made of giant’s bones, but that was swallowed by a great whale and no one’s been there since.
  4. The graves of Bone Seekers are always empty if you dig them up. Their bones sink into the Underground and reform into monstrous abominations.
  5. The Bone Seekers are just a bunch of archaeologists that like to dress up and do silly voices and rituals.
  6. The Ossiflower is a beacon for something in the sky. You can see the twinkling light orbiting the construction site at night.
Aug 28 2024

Is this NPC here?

The Problem

I’ve found myself constantly answering the question, “We’re here! Wait, is Sodabread the Illuminant Knight of the Solunarium here too? I have things to ask her!”

Or alternatively, “Has anyone heard if Duwelon the Lich is in that hex over there? I’m kind of spooked and don’t want to wander in there if he’s lurking about.”

This makes sense. My lovable weirdos and baddies have garnered the interest and affection (hatred) of the Company of Knights in Mythic Bastionland. It’d make sense for me to have an answer to this question. Problem is, I hate narrative determinism. I want to leave it up to a realistic chance. Especially in the context of a hex crawl where everything is supposed to emerge organically.

But I hate fiddly upkeep with no tangible effect on play in a session. And I definitely don’t want to muck up the lovely Omens system for each Myth. So for the way I run games, I need something more streamlined to answer the question in a way that still feels meaningful and impactful.

I tried limiting the steps to what would be quick at the table. A single count, a single roll with no meta-currencies or bullshit abstraction — just the NPC’s previous location and the location in question.

The Fix

When it’s unclear whether an NPC occupies a hex, find and point at the NPC’s last known location.

Starting from 100%, count down in increments of 10% as you count the hexes along the shortest possible path between the NPC’s last location and the hex in question. Count into the negative if needed.

After you’ve finished counting, roll 1d10 if your percentage count is still equal to or above 10%. If the 1d10 roll is equal to or under your percentage count (1=10%, 5=50%, etc), the NPC is in the hex in question.

Roll 2d10 if your percentage count went below 10%. The NPC is only in the hex if both dice show all 0’s.

The Mods

Modify this as you see fit. This is tuned for a 12x12 hex map in Mythic Bastionland, but this could work well for other sizes of hex crawls or even point crawls if you have a sprawling web-like tapestry of places to explore.

Advantage or disadvantage roll mechanics to fit the situation.

Incremental modifiers for messengers, magical devices, or hounds.

Different percentage increments per hex(es) away to reflect travel conditions, bandits on the road, crunchier approach to the difficulty of travel.

Choose different (longer) routes if map factors would affect the NPC’s journey between locations.

Bigger or smaller dice for dire weather or magical overlays of the Spirit Realm that reveal a misty ectoplasmic trail.

Mar 21 2024

Mythic Bungalow Prep

A few folks on the Bastionland Discord asked about how I run certain elements of Mythic Bastionland. This is a synopsis of the discussion and an attempt at presenting my approaches to a few portions of the game in a more coherent way.

Did you just start your players in a random hex or did you provide an initial task?

The players started west of the Seat of Power. I picked west since I’d been reading some UVG and felt inspired to work eastwards for a change. I rolled some dice to see where exactly they’d start out west in the realm. Each of their Seers had indicated the company ought to report to Lord Ribbel at Castle Fangrir, each for their own reason.

How did you handle Seers in your game? That’s a bit I particularly struggle with. Generally, how do you handle the Seers providing info? Do they always ask for a task/quest to be completed beforehand? How clear do you make their information?

Each starting scene in the first session with each Knight’s Seer had a different flavor to it. Some Seers want to dethrone Lord Ribbel, the current ruler of the Seat of Power. Some want to help him, while others could care less who he is since they’re more interested in what’s inside or below Castle Fangrir.

Some Knights use their Seers as the source of their entire backstory. Others see them as distant, respected mentors. Others intertwine with their Seer because they share some strange deep primal magic with them that they can’t escape. One even hates their Seer (the Loathed Seer) and wants to kill them to be free of them. To make this part easier for me to run, I usually just ask the players questions which leads to the core bits of their connections to their Seers.

The key takeaway here I think is that Seers want things. They start in motion, just like the players, in the middle of whatever’s going on with them. The messier, the better.

As far as players interacting with and utilizing Seers, I make it clear that there’s always an x-in-6 chance that a Knight can speak to their Seer. Sometimes, Knights can even turn those odds into summoning their Seers. But they’ve learned very quickly that the Seers’ are weird. When Seers show up, they ask for weird, obtuse stuff that might be more trouble than it’s worth and that might conflict with the Knights immediate goals (ideally, in interesting, unpredictable ways that are fun to explore through play.)

As far as the information Seers provide to Knights, I follow the GLOG principles and Chris McDowall’s guidelines for Seers from p.13 and p.19 in the current MB preview. No information from a Seer is ever too helpful or too vague. It always has a price. The price is always related to one of the Seers’ bullet points from their description. And it’s almost always weird.

No matter what, I always use the bullet points from the Mythic Bastionland source material to guide what the Seers do. I try my best to make sure the players understand the Seer info so they can make informed decisions about how they connect to their Seer. Once it’s clear we’re on the same page, I ask the players questions about their Knight and about their Seer that I then turn into spark tables. Usually no more than 2 columns of 4 sparks each. Though if I have more time and energy, I usually prefer Chris McDowall’s 4 sparks method. Combining 4 elements creates 6 unique spark combos. AB AC AD BC BD CD.

As an example, the Unnamed Seer was the first Seer the group met properly. They found him submerged in a floral cave beneath his tower. And his attendant warned them that the Seer would grow angry unless the Knights could offer stories and rumors about anonymous individuals (since he’s always trying to learn more about his past, and since he doesn’t know his past, any tale could be relevant to his past.) The Moss Knight caught onto this and told him some stories they’d picked up from Corin, a witch that the company had caught a ride with down the river on her barge. As soon as they’d finished the tales, they asked for information in exchange. And I gave them useful information about 3 myths, all of which were connected to the Unnamed Seers own connections with the realm.

As another example, the Jawbone Seer and the Loathed Seer have been more selfish than other Seers in my games, just due to what’s happened over the course of the game. Their info comes in objects which I telegraph the danger of frequently.

The Moss Knight ended up receiving a “gift” in the form of a prickly seedling, thrumming with weird primal power and creepy vibes. It was clear to the player from my description that the Loathed Seer wanted them to use it in front of them (likely to be hated and loathed by the knight) so the Moss Knight had to bluff their way out of ingesting the seedling in front of them to avoid whatever danger was on the other side. They can tell it’s powerful and dangerous and the power inside the seedling may be the only way to win their current battle, but right now the Moss Knight is scared to do it because it’s unclear what the cost will be for the power the seedling will give.

Again, helpful info that’s not too helpful or that comes with a risk.

Mind sharing a spark table you’ve made?

Sure thing! Here are some from the knights. Typically, I organize sparks into On-Screen and Off-Screen sparks. That way if an On-Screen spark plays out to some kind of conclusion, I can swap an Off-Screen spark in its place, eventually bringing the old On-Screen spark back in a new way.

For the Bloody Knight, here are his current active on-screen sparks. I’ll just throw 2d6, combine the results, and usually that’s enough to run an entire encounter or intrigue multiple sessions back to back.

  1. The call of life blood, ringing constant and coagulant in the ears.
  2. Rumors of Yaw, the Bull who hunts Lord Ribbel night and day
  3. Scars from old wounds and the ache of the Red Reed Seer’s cold punishment
  1. Collectors of blood, thirsty for new rare strains
  2. Unjust enforcers and thugs, heckling and harassing to assuage their fears
  3. Young mercenaries, desperately hunting first and last kills

For NPC’s I do a similar thing. Here’s the sparks for Odibran the Pale Light in Darkness, affectionately dubbed by the players as “Sodabread the Curmudgeonly”

  1. Moonlight radiating from their equipment and hands
  2. Whispering to mischievous moon sprites
  3. Tracing lunar patterns on any available surface
  4. Dark stories of Pragen
  1. Sharpening Odibran’s Moon Blade in preparation to kill Duwelon
  2. Stories of the recent happenings in 03 - The Forest
  3. Terrified of 04 - The Spirit
  4. Hopeful stories of Finyan

Odibran’s is a little different, since I wanted to make sure she stays actionable in game. Most of her entries are things she could actually be doing at the moment anytime I reach for a spark combo. To be clear, there isn’t much accompanying text to go with each of these characters. Maybe a paragraph tops to cover their core elements.

If sparks come out a little different from location to NPC to encounter, that seems to suit my style just fine. Usually I can just randomly roll a verb or interesting twist to convolute the combinations into an entirely plausible and believable moment to implement in play.

What kinds of questions do you ask your players to generate their spark tables?

If we’re using the Bloody Knight as the example, I asked these questions.

How does your Passion manifest itself?

His passion manifests in his profoundly strange literal connection to his own blood, the blood of others (whether through battle or healing), and the call of the realm’s Life Blood, a sort of spiritual river that runs through everything (a bit of worldbuilding I did beforehand knowing he’d likely lean into the weird). As you can see, there are a bunch of sparks that just pull a few examples of what “blood” could mean to him.

What are you ashamed of?

For his shame, he indicated that he failed a mission in the past and that the Red Seer (or Reed Seer? I think early in playtesting I accidentally jammed them together, so now those two seers are two sides of the same Jekyl and Hide coin) had never let him live it down. So I figured that his shame literally follows him, both in body, spirit, and the talk and actions of others.

Who do you miss?

For who do you miss, this was a bit self indulgent. He’d made this character when we play tested with another GM, and I got to play his brother, Yaw the Bull. He loved the character so much that he was adamant that the Bloody Knight’s main goal, all oaths to the realm aside, was to find out what possibly could have happened to Yaw, since Yaw didn’t start as an NPC in their group. I’ve been hinting at him since, so that spark gets a lot of mileage with him anytime it comes up.

To me, the process of asking a player questions is like playing simultaneous chords or superimposing two images over one another or duct taping two objects together. The fun comes from synthesizing the two into one, rather than building something entirely from scratch myself. The more I can turn to the player or a table for the raw building block, the more I can focus on how those elements hook together and move during play.

So for NPC’s, do you use the sparks to generate what they’re doing when players encounter them? For PC’s, do you use the spark tables to generate encounters related to them specifically? If so, do you basically add an entry on the encounter dice?

Both! That’s just how these two turned out specifically. Since the NPC was new, I figured I’d need a lot of stuff she could be doing off the cuff without me having to think about it too much.

As for the encounter system, I usually hook an individual knight’s spark onto an Omen result of the Wilderness Roll, or onto the All Clear result if it feels like an appropriate moment (or if the players seem hungry for something weird to latch onto.) I played around with other entries, but I didn’t want to mess with the Omen and Myth rollout since it’s worked so nicely for the games I’ve run.

Did you fully plan out all the faction relationships and secrets before starting play?

A few. I just made a basic relationship map and wrote a couple lines for each connection.

The myths are in pink. Green and yellow indicate alliances between factions. The grey are independent factions, individuals, and characters mentioned in Omens. The blue connections are alliances or peaceful relationships. The orange connections are hostile or tense relationships.

Fangrir Relationship MapFangrir Relationship Map

Did you decide from the outset to have a rival realm?

I did! I figured that could provide some interesting leverage the players could exploit if they wanted to, for the good or ill of the court of Castle Fangrir.

Jan 2 2024

Galaxy24: Urda and Yuthra

Twin desert planets, each small and rocky, covered in anomalous floating islands of rock that smash into each other, marking drastic seasonal shifts. Oases ringed by mountain ranges rise from the colossal ruins of the craggy collisions.

Sparks

Living-meteor hired hit-and-run. Bitter predator rage. Fusion union advocates. Unexpected ice discovery.

Hooks

  1. The Yuthra Dactyl, apex predators past their prime, hired a living-meteor, Noocal VI, to strike Urda with a glancing blow. The Dactyl hope to wipe out the Urdasaurs’ utopian cities and bring back their glorious days of the hunt with a new and oblong orbit pattern.
  2. Some Dactyls and Urdasaurs advocate that the only hope for peace is to merge the planets. Protests in the streets. Debates in public forums. Announcements from the capitals. Only experimental astronomer cultists of both saurian lines have detected Noocal VI’s hastening approach.
  3. Some of Noocal VI’s frosty children hasten ahead of them, bringing huge chunks of ice to the atmosphere of Urda and Yuthra, bringing the first torrential typhoons to the planets. Wet chaos ensues.
  4. Noocal VI’s Dactyl contractors discover how close the union advocates are to merging the two planets. Each will die for their cause. Coin flip odds, adjust by 1-in-6 to account for recent events.
  5. Dactyl leaders uncover sentient microphages living in Noocal’s ice children, capable of rewriting their genes, could lead to extinction. A union advocate Dactyl unearths evidence of an Urdasaur’s cure. Peace talks, cloak and dagger betrayal, little time before Noocal VI arrives.
  6. Whatever Urdasaurs remain hastily construct half an icy dyson shield to deflect Noocal’s path. 1-in-6 increments based on events up to present. Roll 1d6 for deflection direction. 1: Empty space. 2-3: Yuthra. 4-6: Another heavenly body in the O-Mega 2 System or another system.
Jan 2 2024

Galaxy24: O-Mega 2

Rare O-Class star. 1-in-3M. Majority UV light. Burns very hot. Undulating streams of white gas spiraling around one axis towards the surface. Geysers of white gas spewing from the opposing perpendicular poles. Audible polyphonic ascending phrases if passing through geysers.

Sparks

Gravity music anomaly. Spewing gas danger. Oddment mockery caravan. Regal emissary offering.

Hooks

  1. Heaving subsonic rhythms and melodies push and pull the spewing star gas, producing beautiful, titanic gaseous forms. The music imprints secrets and new neuroplastic patterns onto the synapses of organic minds, for those that survive the maelstrom of gas.
  2. Mockery Star Oddments caravan from Bastion, lost thanks to a jump coordinate error, caught in the pull of O-Mega 2’s gargantuan gravity. Their starry-mockery nature is a rarity for many lost souls and hunters this far out in space.
  3. The sinewy Meta Mega Keepers of O-Mega 2, presenting fragrant, cherished, and unwilling offerings at an ancient altar platform, orbiting in stasis around O-Mega 2. Eager to outdo one another.
  4. One of the Mockery Star Oddments, their tiny, sentient escape pod tumbling closer and closer to the star. 2-in-6 the other Oddments try to save them.
  5. MMK funeral pyre vessel, violently awakened by the star’s music, caught between its trauma and its curiosity. Odds of offering the MMK to the star or saving the unwilling sacrifices start at a coin flip. Adjust by 1-in-6 increments to taste or to reflect players’ decisions.
  6. The Oddment Wayfinder shaman carries a black hole jump gem, secret of their tribe. The Keeper Magnate senses its thrumming call, undecided on whether to make a supreme offering of it at the altar or place it around his neck as the beacon of a new holy order.
Dec 20 2023

Some UVG Factions

Content warning: body horror, abuse of power, eugenics, religious persecution.

In preparation for a game of UVG, I’ve found it necessary to fill out the Rainbowlands and the folks and factions that might be stomping around doing good, weird, and horrible things. I gave the cast of players free reign over their starting location, and since they selected the east coast of the Circle Sea near the Oranje territories, that means they could head in any cardinal direction before eventually heading out west proper.

So, to give them the player agency that I’ve come to love in the OSR NSR thinking adventure game tradition, I’ve begun harvesting faction titles and fragments from Luka’s recently released UVG 2E Glossary on Patreon. I’ve supplemented them with my own interpretations and also added my own additional factions that either feel tangentially connected to existing ones or just needed to be there for my own taste.

Please feel free to use these in anything you’d like. I’ll update these with more from the parent list as I round out the remaining factions.

Blue Daemon-Benders - Blue Tier II

Daemon-benders believe that a body is just a temporary host and inconvenience imposed on a pocket of universe-source until it’s cured and matured enough to reintegrate back into the ether. They view elemental-daemon-bending as the proper way to teach, cure, and mature one’s own ka. They encourage strengthening your ha so long as it is balanced with swift muscular decay when your ka is ready to return to source.

Opposed by every major cult of the Dead God, misunderstood by the Hexads, hunted by the Grand Companies, and deified by any Safranje wanderers.

Deacons Decay - Blue & Purple Tier II

Fundamentalists cast out from the Purple University. Like all Bluelanders, they cherish rot and decay. However, their placement on the faculty of the Purple University came with severe restrictions from the recently appointed Deacon of Indigo Enforcement. The rest of the faculty constantly tried to censor their fundamentalist pillars by appearing at their “voluntary”, “consensual” rot-infection services. Over time, the censorship and harassment bred vitriolic resentment in their clergy, and in one grand gesture, they showed the Purple University a display of the Rotting God like no other. . . for which they were immediately banished to the marshes of the Blue Lands. There, they currently slog about, meditating and wandering the swamp, waiting for a sign from the Rotting God to lead them to their next home.

Dead God: Her Forlorn Flesh - Blue Tier II

The followers of Her Forlorn Flesh dedicate themselves to the removal of flesh over the course of one’s life, treating the removal with cure-all numbing agents to be administered regularly. Biomantic supplementation and augmentation are used when the “purified one” does not respond to the numbing effects of the serums.

The followers bury the bones of their dead in extravagant mausoleums, as they believe The Dead God honors the arrangement of one’s bones when someone crosses the River Stixxe into their domain. This can often lead to cliquish and petty decoration competitions, similar to the bake-off’s in the Violet City or the Hell’s Kitchen Gladiatori matches of the Emerald City.

Dead God: Mantles of His Marrow - Blue Tier III

The Mantles’ decadent decay rites demand that they offer up vials of their marrow every 11 years in an elaborate 11-week skelomantic extraction meditation donation. They hope that the gradual removal of this core element of their ha will take with it chunks of their ka, paving their way to the other side of the Source. There is only one chapel near the grasslands where this may be performed. It rests underneath a Fast Star and the aforementioned ritual is only performed by the eldest Mantle, until their own final donation is performed and their mantle is passed to the next hierophant.

Dead God: Temple of Their Tetral Teeth - Blue Tier IV

A tenant of Their Tetral Teeth seeks the Dead God’s blessings by removing a tooth from their mouth yearly. The tenant then replaces it with a scavenged tooth from the world, each new tooth a reflection of the lessons they have learned that year from the Dead God. There are many dissenting opinions on how many teeth one should remove and replace before offering one’s jaw to the ever growing Enamel Tetrahedron. There are even more dissenting claims over whether the process should continue once a tenant has exhausted their own teeth. Only the most devout Templars have achieved multi-row top and bottom jaw arrays, much to the chagrin of their more conservative attendants.

Dean of Indigo Enforcement - Blue & Purple Tier IV

The Dean of Indigo Enforcement hails from the Purple University. A hypocritical relic Bluelander, he idolizes color accuracy, the reflection of each primary colors ideals in the hue, saturation, and luminance of any Landers’ skin, clothing, and paraphernalia. He eschews acknowledging the more nuanced hues of the Rainbowlanders, despite his appointment to lead a progressive place of learning. His Indigo Inspectors often inject ideas into more subtle-hued individuals, hoping they will align more purely with their “correct” placements.

The Dean holds much power, and many of his mechanisms of control rely heavily on the stability of the first primary hues. Any threat to those pillars would ruin his control of the coastal provinces.

Emerald Engineering Kompany - Green Tier IV

A recently perfected family tree of engineer-mystics. Carefully curated by the Grand Companies and deployed selectively to their most lucrative endeavors. After achieving mentat level mental faculties, they’ve been infected with an incurable listless boredom that has left too much time for degenerate hobbies and interests. Rumors of the elven curse ripple around them wherever they go. Not unwarranted either, since the current Kompany Engineers’ tenure has exceeded the lifetimes of the past three Kompany CEO’s.

A single emerald jewel bound by stuckforce floats above their head at all times, signaling to all the Kompany’s protection and ever watchful eyes. Their own irises sparkle with a deep green, swallowing whole any hint of a pupil in the murky jeweled depths.