Leap Day

Doctor Draconis takes a leap

Over the years, I have played or gamemastered the Hero System more than any other role-playing system.  I started playing the Hero System back in 1982, when it was ‘just’ Champions and the late Mark Williams seemed to do all of the art.  I loved me some Hero System; it was (is) consistent, adaptable, and scalable.  Until GURPS gathered a head of steam, there was nothing like it.  Although I didn’t pick up ‘Espionage!,’ I was all over ‘Justice, Inc.,’ ‘Danger International,’ ‘Fantasy Hero,’ and, when it finally came out, ‘Star Hero.’

When the responsibilities of maturity precluded extensive involvement in role-playing games, my attachment to the Hero System waned.  I bought the new additions as they came out, if only to support the publisher.  Something bothered me about Fifth Edition, but I couldn’t specify what.  I attributed it to the onset of becoming a curmudgeon and I went on with my life.

Then came Sixth Edition – two huge volumes (perhaps too huge volumes). What had become of my beloved Hero System? It was a bloated...thing...with more than 700 pages – more than three times the length of the Fourth Edition Rulesbook. Was all this...necessary? I know, I know...“It’s a toolkit!  Take what you want and use it how you want!”  Well, sometimes I don’t want a toolkit, I want a game. Sometimes I don't want an aggregate of customized sub-systems stitched together like some lurid quilt; I want a book – one book – that I can use to run a game. It doesn't need to be perfect and it doesn't need to account for every circumstance. For the sake of atmosphere, I welcome idiosyncrasies.

 
The Old School Renaissance made me realize that 'later' doesn't necessarily mean 'better' when it comes to RPGs. Older games still have much to offer the hobby. Not surprisingly, much (but not all) of the focus of the OSR is upon “the world's most popular role-playing game.” Yet there are many other games out there; many other vistas awaiting (re-)exploration. With this blog, your humble host hopes to do his part to draw attention to some of these other vistas. For some readers, this attention will be in the form of a remembrance; for other readers, it will be a learning experience.

The Other Little Brown Book

En Garde!  Being in the Main a Game of the Life and Times

of a Gentleman Adventurer and his Several Companions

En Garde!* was published in 1975 by Game Designers' Workshop, two years prior to the more successful Traveller. (For the record, my copy is the revised edition from 1977.) The game was created by the inestimable Frank Chadwick and the somewhat less prodigious Darryl Hany. To be fair, Hany's name is listed before Chadwick's in the game design credits, so it's reasonable to assume that Hany's contributions outweigh Chadwick's. GDW stalwarts John Harshman and Loren Wiseman are given credit as game developers.

The status of En Garde as a 'genuine' role-playing game is open to interpretation. The introduction states that “En Garde is a semi-historical game/simulation” and no claim is made in the book that it is a role-playing game per se. Of course, in those very early days, the actual term “role-playing game” was not necessarily used in RPG products. (For instance, the term does not appear in the original three D&D 'little brown books.')

In the game, each player controls a character. Characters are defined, in large part, by abilities that have a randomly determined, numerical value. Players make choices as to how their characters interact with (1) the setting environment and (2) one another. The ramifications of said choices are often determined via rolling dice and consulting charts. There is a focus on combat. En Garde shares the preceding features with 'genuine' RPGs but, for other matters, En Garde differs from the usual concept.

En Garde represents a peculiar development from the dawn of role-playing that I (due to the absence of other authority) categorize as 'scheduling games.'  (Superhero 2044 is another example of a scheduling game.) These games combine qualities of 'proper' RPGs with play-by-mail games in that players interact with one another face-to-face but the actions of characters are plotted out in advance. In effect, a player composes a schedule of activity for his (or her) character. For En Garde, such a schedule can cover a month of game time or, in the case of fighting a duel, scant moments.

Speaking of fighting duels, in En Garde, each player controls a 'gentleman adventurer' of France in the time of the musketeers. As mentioned above, the game is “semi-historical.” The goal is not realism so much as a representation of the swashbuckling genre. (The game is dedicated to Alexandre Dumas, Danny Kaye, and Sir Harry Flashman.) Evidently, the game was intended originally to be a way to simulate fencing and background 'color' was included to provide rationale for duels. Eventually, the background 'color' became more prominent than the actual duels. The essential objective of the characters is to acquire status; dueling is merely a means to that end.

Each character has four abilities. Strength (ability to inflict damage), Expertise (skill and experience with fencing), and Constitution (general health) are determined by rolling 3d6 for each. Endurance (ability to absorb damage) is determined by multiplying Strength by Constitution.

Next week we shall examine the fencing rules.

*  The cover appellation includes the exclamation point, a convention that is not observed in the body of the work. For the sake of convenience, your humble host will forgo said punctuation when referencing the game henceforth.

If You Kill a Squirrel in Atlantasia, Be Sure to Eat It

In Atlantasia, the gods take a direct role in wildlife conservation. For instance, we learn from page 111 of John Holland's The Realms of Atlantasia that squirrels “are prized by the goddess Dannuih.” (From what I can tell, Dannuih is some kind of druid goddess – like, D&D druids, not historically accurate druids.) This means that anyone who kills a squirrel loses 5 experience points. I'm down with this; I mean, it's not like you're going to become some big, macho hero by exterminating squirrels. Dannuih isn't a hard-ass about it, if one or two squirrels are killed for food, she lets it slide (“the goddess gives the world this” – mighty white of her).

Dannuih likes dolphins too. If you kill a dolphin, you lose 25 experience points, whether you eat it or not. However, losing 25 E.P.¹ is the least of your worries if you threaten a dolphin. The leader of the mer-people, Tri-Danté² (a.k.a. “The Demon of the Deep”), and a posse of mermen will show up to protect any threatened dolphins. According to page 174, “Tri-Danté stands 30' tall, with...a strong set of fins for legs.” Page 129 tells us that “Tri-Danté uses a uni-whale as his mount! ” Uni-whales have a single horn and “two magical attacks (tidal wave & ice).” Uni-whales “have a high intelligence (7).”³ I guess dolphins are more than twice as smart since – as indicated in a previous post – they have an intelligence of 15. Anyway, Tri-Danté is loaded with magic items.

Meridian lizards are one of the few things about Atlantasia that I actually like. They are sensitive to “energy lines.” As such, “The stripes down their back will change color” depending upon the power of any given energy line. That's the extent of what I like about meridian lizards; Holland, however, can't leave it at that. There's no E.P. value listed for meridian lizards, not even a negative amount. Per page 119:

It is absolutely FORBIDDEN to kill a meridian lizard...Should anyone be caught killing a meridian lizard (and you WILL be caught), you would owe a quest to the first Deity that shows up after the death of the lizard (usually 3 – 10ss).

That doesn't sound too bad. If you're bored, just kill a meridian lizard and some god will show up with a quest.

Another (rare) good idea from Holland is his treatment of unicorns. Killing a unicorn “costs you the life of one you love...and the Deities will ensure this...” The twist is that the player chooses which loved one the gods kill off. I guess the gods know if you really love someone and aren't just throwing out a name. Unicorns don't provide any E.P., so the only reason to kill one (other than spite) is to collect its blood. Supposedly, according to page 147, “putting unicorn blood on a weapon and striking any who are not of pure heart will curse them to a painful, burning death within 1 season.” If you really need to kill a unicorn, you might not want to do so on the faerie island of Xyla. Unicorns are serious business there; every Faerie Being on the island will be trying to kill you within two semi-segments after you kill a unicorn.

Sea turtles are worth 200 E.P. but, according to page 127:

Sea turtles are revered by sailors because sea turtles ride the currents of the oceans they reside in. Thus sailors will always know where the tides are and in what direction the tides are going. A ship of sailors will develop a special relationship with a certain sea turtle. Therefore, should that turtle die, those sailors will know and will avenge the death of their friend.

In other words, within three cycles of killing a sea turtle, a ship of sailors⁴ will show up to battle the killer.

House cats, horses, oxen, and camels don't offer any E.P., but there do not seem to be any inherent negative ramifications for killing them.

¹ E.P. is more realistic than X.P. because 'experience' begins with an 'e.'

² Get it? Tri-Danté – trident – Neptune. Get it?

³ Regular whales “have a very decent intelligence (8) ,” but they don't have magic attacks.

⁴ “10% chance of being pirates”

The Many Worlds of METAMORPHOSIS ALPHA

Over three months ago, I expressed my intent to perform a cover-to-cover analysis of Metamorphosis Alpha (First Edition). Rather than going from beginning to end, I skipped around so as to illustrate my points more effectively; nonetheless, while not painstakingly thorough, I feel that I have accomplished my goal. There is little else in Metamorphosis Alpha I can address. This is not to say there is little else in the game, merely there is little else about which I can provide additional insight by virtue of commentary. It is thus that your humble host concludes his scrutiny of James Ward's memorable contribution to the world of role-playing games and peregrinates to other offerings.

It is my sincere hope that readers have found my posts to be of at least meager value and that – perhaps – I have prompted some new degree of interest in this classic game. As a reminder, a print copy of the first edition is available via Lulu. For those that have a preference for new-fangled electronic documents, a PDF of the first edition (including a sheet of trendy hex paper) is available via RPGNow. Ongoing support is available at the official Metamorphosis Alpha forums. Also, generous readers should consider joining the Friends of Starship Warden.

The title of this post is taken directly from the back cover of the first edition. Any given level of the Warden may be considered a 'world' (as I discussed previously); however, I believe Ward intended for referees to create their own 'worlds' of Metamorphosis Alpha and that he described the Starship Warden merely as an example. I am not surprised that many referees latched onto Ward's 'example' as the basis for their campaigns; I can think of two reasons for this. First, the necessary preparations for “moderating” a campaign requires a considerable commitment of time; the less a referee has to do, the better. Second, Ward asked referees to venture forth on the sea of imagination. Yes, many referees entered that sea but, in the early era of role-playing, they were too timid to leave the sight of land. The rulebook represented their safety zone, their anchor (to continue with the nautical analogy). Of course, there were some who did create their own worlds – perhaps to a greater extent than Ward envisioned. Metamorphosis Alpha was certainly the inspiration for Synnibarr and Jorune and (as discussed in the comments of this post) there are many similarities to be found in Paranoia.

Among the 'variants' of Metamorphosis Alpha, there is one presented by Guy McLimore in issue six of (The) Dragon (April 1977). In his article, “Clone Bank Alpha: An Alternate Beginning Sequence for Metamorphosis Alpha,” McLimore posits a different way for player characters to begin the game. 'Clone Bank Alpha' was an emergency protocol for the Warden; however, its execution was delayed due to the disaster. Player characters are clones of the ship's (former) crew. They are 'activated' in order to resolve the predicating emergency. Alas, the 'memory implants' were incomplete; the clones realize they exist to solve a problem, but they lack some of the necessary knowledge to do so. Any given clone may have mutations.

Players may choose from among major and minor skills, but the number of skills is determined randomly. Among the major skills are 'Medical Officer' (“Can heal 1 point of damage per man per day with minimal equipment”) and 'Computer Technician' (which is not described). Among the minor skills are 'Food Service Technician' (“25 per cent chance to identify harmful substances”) and 'Shuttlecraft Pilot' (“Able to fly ship's shuttle vehicles”). There is a 1% chance of a character obtaining a “special skill.” Although the seven special skills are for humans only, the seem much like mutations: Psionic Healer, Machine Talent, Immortal, Probability Shifter, Resurrection Talent, Mental Battery, and Ability Duplicator.

For what they are worth, I provide a few of my own imaginings with regard to Metamorphosis Alpha.

Radiation in Metamorphosis Alpha (“foreign to all previously known radiation types”) functions much like radiation in comic books. To me it seems somewhat silly. What if, instead of a radiation cloud, the Warden encountered a colossal swarm of nanotechnology? This technology could have been created by alien beings eons previous to the disaster. For ages these things could have existed in space replicating themselves over and over. Eventually, minor changes would creep into their programmatic code; they would evolve (or devolve). Upon encountering the Warden, they attempt to 'communicate' by interacting with the genetic code of the inhabitants. Due to the alien nature of the nanotechnology, communication is not feasible; however, they continue with their attempts. The nanotechnology interaction is fatal in a great many cases, but sometimes 'mutations' result.

Well-studied readers may recall that in the “Azathoth” fragment, Lovecraft made reference “to many secret vistas whose existence no common eye suspects” among the voids between the stars. What if the Warden came into the gravitational pull of one of the “dark stars” of the old ones?

Finally, what if the Warden is really a prison (as its name might suggest)? The current inhabitants are descendants of the original prisoners (humans and aliens) and do not realize the nature of their world. Perhaps the civilization that incarcerated the original prisoners has collapsed, yet its efficient construct, the Warden, persists in its ceaseless function.