el-remmen
Moderator Emeritus
Not sure I understand what this is in reference to. What deus ex machina at the beginning of the adventure?
IRON DM 2020 Tournament Thread
Not sure I understand what this is in reference to. What deus ex machina at the beginning of the adventure?
Gradine
The Elephant in the Room (she/her)
Yeah, I figured that out and gave you the point there. Spelljammers do, after all, have both a top and a bottom.
And I totally feel you on how frustrating it is when the judges don't grok the cool stuff you're pulling off.
I'm referring here to the Deva who appears, tells the players all about the egg, and leave, never appearing or referenced again. It took me out of it, and was a red flag for me that it was even deemed necessary.
FitzTheRuke
Legend
Race to the Bottom
Window of Opportunity
Nameless Things
Weird Magic
Unlightable Lantern
Occupied Mine
Old Ways
Faster Car
Background:
Many centuries ago, dwarves built a mine under a mountain by the sea. They dug upward, from their underground kingdoms to the higher parts of the mountain. When there was little left to be had (by their standards), they abandoned the place and sealed the ways that led back to their lands. Two entrances remain: A lower, secluded cove where the dwarves once loaded ore onto hired ships to trade far away, and one high in the mountains, discovered decades ago by humans, who built a small mining town nearby to dig out what little the dwarves left behind in their last, highest tunnels.
Unfortunately for the townsfolk, a few months ago, a greedy hag named Frau Klegg discovered their mine and took over the miner’s quarters, occupying it as her lair. Further, she began using her weird magic to enslave - first the miners themselves, and then the rest of the town - converting them into nameless things that do her bidding. What few townsfolk remain cower in fear that they will be snatched up and enslaved.
Magic Items – Frau Klegg has used her weird magic to create three magic items:
The PCs are travelling by a mountain pass that goes past the town. Just as they spot the town ahead, they are attacked by 1d3 Nameless Things - a strange, hairy, long-armed humanoid that tries to subdue one of them and take them up into the mountains. The town is mostly deserted. The few cowering townsfolk who are left will ask for help, explaining that these creatures have been stealing folks and taking them to the mine. They offer a modest reward and appeal to the PCs better nature. If they refuse, the townsfolk will treat them as best as desperate people can but will take every opportunity to ask them to reconsider. When the PCs leave, they will be attacked by 2d4 Nameless Things.
If they subdued a creature during either encounter, it simply moans and mumbles incoherently. If they track where the creature was from or where it was going, (perhaps because a PC or NPC was taken), or if they agreed to help the townsfolk, they will eventually find their way to the mine.
The Mine:
1) Entrance. The mine is closed by a wooden gate, which is left unlocked.
2) Dark passageway. From the gate is a long, slowly curving passageway. Frau Klegg keeps her Unlightable Lantern hanging from the first support beam, with a flint and steel on a lower peg, to tempt any villagers who arrive to try to light it.
3) Miner’s quarters (hag’s lair). The mine is far enough away from town that miners stayed in shifts, occupying these quarters. Frau Klegg has turned this into her lair, furnishing it with desiccated plants and mummified animals. She keeps an enormous cast iron pot cooking on a low fire. Many things best left unnamed have gone in this pot, which she happily stirs with her ladle while singing nonsense.
4) Minecarts. Six minecarts are stopped here on two parallel tracks that head up and down into two tunnels. Rubble lies strewn about where the downward tunnel was sealed but is now broken open.
5) Newer mine. The upward direction of the tracks takes you to the until-recently active mine worked by the town’s miners. Nameless Things now occupy this mine, doing the hag’s bidding.
6) The Old ways. The downward direction leads to the old dwarven mines, unused for centuries. There may be many interesting adventures down there, but nothing is left worth mining.
The Hag:
Frau Klegg is no fool – she recognises the threat of adventurers right away. She will try to avoid combat, offering them ‘stew’ from her pot (stirring with her ladle). There may be a window of opportunity for the PCs to get in a few rounds of combat, but if she can, Frau Klegg will grab the lantern, her ladle, and/or some other treasure, and flee into the mine. She will get into the first minecart and speed off into the Old Ways, cackling. If the PCs don’t want her to get away, they will have to follow.
The Chase:
It is best to handle the minecart chase abstractly, in 3 to 5 stages, with a skill check relevant to a hazard at each stage. The dwarven mines are immense, and the entire trip takes about an hour. Regardless of trouble along the way, all minecarts will arrive at the cove within minutes of each other, unless they don’t arrive at all. The overall path of both tracks head along a central corridor with many side-tunnels. Frau Klegg has travelled this route enough times to have perfected the task. She travels at a steady pace and succeeds at all checks relevant to the chase.
Start Your Car:
The minecarts were once clamped together in a train but are currently detached. Each car can hold up to two medium creatures. Though the overall grade is downward, in some places it is flat (or even travels upwards) so that the cars slow down enough to get out and push. A PC must make a strength check to push the car onto either of the two tracks to get it going. The second car that the PCs push onto the track is the faster car. By some fortune or design, it has grown less rust on its wheels and runs smoothly. Anyone using this car has advantage on all checks made to increase its speed.
Hazards:
Though the dwarves built sturdy cars that will not leave their tracks, many other hazards occur along the way. Examples include: 1) a disturbed swarm of bats that attack; 2) low-hanging partially collapsed ceiling that must be ducked; 3) debris on the tracks that slow the cars; 4) the hag switches the track behind her so the following cars move into a side-tunnel (where they stop, but can be pushed back to resume the chase); etc.
A Window of Opportunity for combat will occur when the tracks travel into an immense open cavern. The cars slow on a long stretch of flat track, with the two tracks diverging around a deep crevice. Frau Klegg’s car will slow first, allowing even the slowest car to arrive in the area. Set the car’s relative position based on their handling of previous hazards. After four rounds of combat, if she has not been beaten or otherwise stopped, Frau Klegg’s car will travel into the next tunnel and the chase is resumed.
The Cove:
Abandoned for centuries, the docks and trade-buildings have fallen to decay. Frau Klegg tried to trade here with some smugglers a few weeks ago, but when she didn’t like their offer, she murdered them, burned their ship, and raised them as zombies. If she makes it to the cove ahead of the PCs, she will gather a group of 3d4 zombies (all that remain) to attack the party at the mine’s exit. She will do whatever she can to get to her folding boat. If she gets it into the water and the PCs are still chasing her, she will use her weird magic and stir the water with her ladle (if she has it) or a paddle (if she does not) and create the effect of a fog cloud to mask her escape.
Endgame:
If the PCs manage to defeat Frau Klegg, they can gather the three magic items and a substantial treasure besides. If they possess the Unlightable Lantern, they can determine, after a short rest, that they can destroy it by placing it in a sufficiently hot fire (a cook fire, or a smith’s forge). This will return the memories to the townsfolk and end the weird magic curse that has turned them into Nameless Things.
Window of Opportunity
Nameless Things
Weird Magic
Unlightable Lantern
Occupied Mine
Old Ways
Faster Car
Background:
Many centuries ago, dwarves built a mine under a mountain by the sea. They dug upward, from their underground kingdoms to the higher parts of the mountain. When there was little left to be had (by their standards), they abandoned the place and sealed the ways that led back to their lands. Two entrances remain: A lower, secluded cove where the dwarves once loaded ore onto hired ships to trade far away, and one high in the mountains, discovered decades ago by humans, who built a small mining town nearby to dig out what little the dwarves left behind in their last, highest tunnels.
Unfortunately for the townsfolk, a few months ago, a greedy hag named Frau Klegg discovered their mine and took over the miner’s quarters, occupying it as her lair. Further, she began using her weird magic to enslave - first the miners themselves, and then the rest of the town - converting them into nameless things that do her bidding. What few townsfolk remain cower in fear that they will be snatched up and enslaved.
Magic Items – Frau Klegg has used her weird magic to create three magic items:
- Unlightable Lantern. A normal-looking lantern apparently full of oil. In truth, it holds stolen memories. When a creature attempts to light it, they must roll an appropriate saving throw, or lose the memory that they attempted to light the lantern, and other memories: The first time they fail, they lose a childhood memory and the name of an object in their possession. If they attempt to light the lantern again and fail, they forget their own name, and the names of others. On a third failure, they forget all knowledge and language, only retaining the most basic ability to remain alive. As a side-effect of the hag’s weird magic, their bodies begin to mutate. Over the following day, they become a Nameless Thing.
- Klegg’s Ladle. A large ladle made of a twisted hardwood. A creature who uses it to stir a pot can choose: 1) the food therein becomes poisonous; 2) anyone who consumes the food is charmed until the following dawn.
- Folding Boat. Frau Klegg keeps this hidden under a rundown wharf in the secluded cove as part of her escape plan.
The PCs are travelling by a mountain pass that goes past the town. Just as they spot the town ahead, they are attacked by 1d3 Nameless Things - a strange, hairy, long-armed humanoid that tries to subdue one of them and take them up into the mountains. The town is mostly deserted. The few cowering townsfolk who are left will ask for help, explaining that these creatures have been stealing folks and taking them to the mine. They offer a modest reward and appeal to the PCs better nature. If they refuse, the townsfolk will treat them as best as desperate people can but will take every opportunity to ask them to reconsider. When the PCs leave, they will be attacked by 2d4 Nameless Things.
If they subdued a creature during either encounter, it simply moans and mumbles incoherently. If they track where the creature was from or where it was going, (perhaps because a PC or NPC was taken), or if they agreed to help the townsfolk, they will eventually find their way to the mine.
The Mine:
1) Entrance. The mine is closed by a wooden gate, which is left unlocked.
2) Dark passageway. From the gate is a long, slowly curving passageway. Frau Klegg keeps her Unlightable Lantern hanging from the first support beam, with a flint and steel on a lower peg, to tempt any villagers who arrive to try to light it.
3) Miner’s quarters (hag’s lair). The mine is far enough away from town that miners stayed in shifts, occupying these quarters. Frau Klegg has turned this into her lair, furnishing it with desiccated plants and mummified animals. She keeps an enormous cast iron pot cooking on a low fire. Many things best left unnamed have gone in this pot, which she happily stirs with her ladle while singing nonsense.
4) Minecarts. Six minecarts are stopped here on two parallel tracks that head up and down into two tunnels. Rubble lies strewn about where the downward tunnel was sealed but is now broken open.
5) Newer mine. The upward direction of the tracks takes you to the until-recently active mine worked by the town’s miners. Nameless Things now occupy this mine, doing the hag’s bidding.
6) The Old ways. The downward direction leads to the old dwarven mines, unused for centuries. There may be many interesting adventures down there, but nothing is left worth mining.
The Hag:
Frau Klegg is no fool – she recognises the threat of adventurers right away. She will try to avoid combat, offering them ‘stew’ from her pot (stirring with her ladle). There may be a window of opportunity for the PCs to get in a few rounds of combat, but if she can, Frau Klegg will grab the lantern, her ladle, and/or some other treasure, and flee into the mine. She will get into the first minecart and speed off into the Old Ways, cackling. If the PCs don’t want her to get away, they will have to follow.
The Chase:
It is best to handle the minecart chase abstractly, in 3 to 5 stages, with a skill check relevant to a hazard at each stage. The dwarven mines are immense, and the entire trip takes about an hour. Regardless of trouble along the way, all minecarts will arrive at the cove within minutes of each other, unless they don’t arrive at all. The overall path of both tracks head along a central corridor with many side-tunnels. Frau Klegg has travelled this route enough times to have perfected the task. She travels at a steady pace and succeeds at all checks relevant to the chase.
Start Your Car:
The minecarts were once clamped together in a train but are currently detached. Each car can hold up to two medium creatures. Though the overall grade is downward, in some places it is flat (or even travels upwards) so that the cars slow down enough to get out and push. A PC must make a strength check to push the car onto either of the two tracks to get it going. The second car that the PCs push onto the track is the faster car. By some fortune or design, it has grown less rust on its wheels and runs smoothly. Anyone using this car has advantage on all checks made to increase its speed.
Hazards:
Though the dwarves built sturdy cars that will not leave their tracks, many other hazards occur along the way. Examples include: 1) a disturbed swarm of bats that attack; 2) low-hanging partially collapsed ceiling that must be ducked; 3) debris on the tracks that slow the cars; 4) the hag switches the track behind her so the following cars move into a side-tunnel (where they stop, but can be pushed back to resume the chase); etc.
A Window of Opportunity for combat will occur when the tracks travel into an immense open cavern. The cars slow on a long stretch of flat track, with the two tracks diverging around a deep crevice. Frau Klegg’s car will slow first, allowing even the slowest car to arrive in the area. Set the car’s relative position based on their handling of previous hazards. After four rounds of combat, if she has not been beaten or otherwise stopped, Frau Klegg’s car will travel into the next tunnel and the chase is resumed.
The Cove:
Abandoned for centuries, the docks and trade-buildings have fallen to decay. Frau Klegg tried to trade here with some smugglers a few weeks ago, but when she didn’t like their offer, she murdered them, burned their ship, and raised them as zombies. If she makes it to the cove ahead of the PCs, she will gather a group of 3d4 zombies (all that remain) to attack the party at the mine’s exit. She will do whatever she can to get to her folding boat. If she gets it into the water and the PCs are still chasing her, she will use her weird magic and stir the water with her ladle (if she has it) or a paddle (if she does not) and create the effect of a fog cloud to mask her escape.
Endgame:
If the PCs manage to defeat Frau Klegg, they can gather the three magic items and a substantial treasure besides. If they possess the Unlightable Lantern, they can determine, after a short rest, that they can destroy it by placing it in a sufficiently hot fire (a cook fire, or a smith’s forge). This will return the memories to the townsfolk and end the weird magic curse that has turned them into Nameless Things.
FitzTheRuke
Legend
That was hard. Like really hard. The title betrays what I think of my entry overall, though I don't hate it in the end as much as I did for 90% of writing it. I really bit off more than I could chew. It wasn't the Ingredients - they were relatively "easy" compared to last time.
The ingredients immediately made me think of doing an Investigative story set in a Western. I loved the idea of it. Somewhere along the line, it turned into a D&D game, which I didn't want to do (weirdly, it could even be a sequel to my last entry). Then I was hit with severe writer's block. I've never had writer's block before. It's not that I didn't have an idea where the story was going, it's just that every word was somehow painful to place down. Every. Word. I have no idea why.
On top of that, I lost all of Saturday to work, and most of Sunday to family demands. (The last Sunday before both my wife, and my two kids, all go back to school, though much of that is still online.) I don't mean to make excuses, really. It's just that I really enjoyed writing the first entry. This one? Not so much. It was okay, and I do appreciate having had the opportunity.
In the end, I'm basically satisfied that I didn't embarrass myself, but I don't hold much hope of winning (I have yet to read my opponent's piece but I assume that the reigning champ can beat what I posted).
I hope some of you at least enjoy it well enough!
...And I hope the judges are feeling kind.
The ingredients immediately made me think of doing an Investigative story set in a Western. I loved the idea of it. Somewhere along the line, it turned into a D&D game, which I didn't want to do (weirdly, it could even be a sequel to my last entry). Then I was hit with severe writer's block. I've never had writer's block before. It's not that I didn't have an idea where the story was going, it's just that every word was somehow painful to place down. Every. Word. I have no idea why.
On top of that, I lost all of Saturday to work, and most of Sunday to family demands. (The last Sunday before both my wife, and my two kids, all go back to school, though much of that is still online.) I don't mean to make excuses, really. It's just that I really enjoyed writing the first entry. This one? Not so much. It was okay, and I do appreciate having had the opportunity.
In the end, I'm basically satisfied that I didn't embarrass myself, but I don't hold much hope of winning (I have yet to read my opponent's piece but I assume that the reigning champ can beat what I posted).
I hope some of you at least enjoy it well enough!
...And I hope the judges are feeling kind.
Last edited:
el-remmen
Moderator Emeritus
Ah! But that was not at the beginning of the adventure, that was 17 hours after the party arrives and assuming the ship gets that far. I added it because I figured if folks were still around that long they might want some more clues. In truth, I could not figure out a way for the PCs to learn stuff except for general investigation and talking to people (most of which probably would not want to talk to them).
As for the egg as engine, I figured it was a solid source of energy and Alerut knowing Hallward used it, is what led the sword using Alerut as his tool for getting the egg in Erebus. I know a lot of this stuff would have been better developed in the entry, but I had to risk very bare bones and hope the judges figure it out.
I think part of my issue is that the adventures I come up are very much like all published adventures in my eyes: a mess of cool stuff in a cool loose framework to bring together in play. The word I'd use to describe it is "capacious."
FitzTheRuke
Legend
I feel the same way. On the other hand, I'm pretty sure our judges would brutalize most published adventures, and well they should.I think part of my issue is that the adventures I come up are very much like all published adventures in my eyes: a mess of cool stuff in a cool loose framework to bring together in play. The word I'd use to describe it is "capacious."
Gradine
The Elephant in the Room (she/her)
Like you wouldn't believe
FitzTheRuke
Legend
I forgot to mention - my brain would NOT get off of trying to explain mechanically how the minecart chase should play out. I didn't have the time, or the space (word count) to actually do that. Reading my entry over, I see that cutting what I had written out, left the "faster car" a little weak. It was by far more, the faster car, when there was more there about how to overtake the other cars.
I don't actually like including game mechanics in the entry - for one, they are probably more useful if they're system agnostic. For another, AFAICT they are supposed to be adventure outlines, so if you did have a specific game in mind, the monster CR (or equivalent) and DCs, etc, would be, in my mind, something that you determine in a later pass.
In addition, I'm a GM who likes players to have as much control over the story as possible, so I don't like to decide "what happens" too much - but here, I don't have the word count to write too many If...Then... statements to cover all the things I can imagine happening. It'll take me some practice to learn how to get as much of that into my entries using as little words as possible. I'm not there yet.
Hey, I should go easier on myself. I've only written two of these so far, after all.
I don't actually like including game mechanics in the entry - for one, they are probably more useful if they're system agnostic. For another, AFAICT they are supposed to be adventure outlines, so if you did have a specific game in mind, the monster CR (or equivalent) and DCs, etc, would be, in my mind, something that you determine in a later pass.
In addition, I'm a GM who likes players to have as much control over the story as possible, so I don't like to decide "what happens" too much - but here, I don't have the word count to write too many If...Then... statements to cover all the things I can imagine happening. It'll take me some practice to learn how to get as much of that into my entries using as little words as possible. I'm not there yet.
Hey, I should go easier on myself. I've only written two of these so far, after all.
Rune
Once A Fool
Judgement for Round 2, Match 1: el-remmen vs. humble minion
Anyone who has read the other two judgements for this match already knows the outcome. One might wonder, then, why I should bother going through the effort to present a redundant judgement of my own?
Two reasons. The least significant being that this judgement was written before reading the others.
The second is more fundamental to my role as a judge. But it will require a bit of an explanation.
To begin with, a judgement ought to be a thing of value to the match’s participants. My responsibility as a judge is to provide that value in the form of honest and analytical critique. My job is to break down entries, see what works and what could be developed further. And then to reconstruct it to see how all those parts work together.
What a judgement offers is certainly opinion, but it is opinion rooted in a reasonably deep analysis, given the time-constraints of the tournament structure. This is a great deal of effort to go through, to be sure, and would be hard to justify if the only point were a redundant judgement. But that simply wouldn’t be fair to the contestants.
See, when someone steps up to the challenge of being a competitor in an IRON DM match, they are putting their creativity and their skill on the line for critique. This is an endeavor that requires courage, time, and no small quantity of energy from the competitor. This holds true for neophytes and seasoned veterans alike.
By stepping up to meet the challenge, and by following through, the contestants earn the deep-analysis of their entries. As a judge, I owe them that work. The actual opinion? Less important than the analysis, except inasmuch as it is a byproduct of it. But, well, that’s just, like, my opinion, man.
With that said, I’ll rewind to before I knew what the other judgements would be:
This is going to be a tight match. Both entries are excellent. So much so that I would be equally unsurprised with a unanimous decision among the judges or a split decision in which mine is the minority.
Both of these entries are worthy of securing their author a spot in the championship round. But only one will. Let’s begin.
Hooks and Stakes:
Despite the overall quality of both adventures, I must say that I found the hooks from both entries serviceable, but somewhat lacking.
In the case of “The Playwright and Praecipua” (“Play”), we are given a scenario where the PCs are either directly contracted, or assigned by superiors to investigate the pawning of a peculiar sword, but we aren’t given any indication of what about this sword is so unusual as to warrant the investigation in the first place. If the shopkeeper was looking for an academic appraisal, or if the sword had killed the shopkeeper in the utter darkness of night, we’d have a considerably stronger hook.
In “The Fate of the Firebird” (“Fate”), we are given two hooks that either have the PCs investigating from the outside of the educational institution or, in the case of the one-shot scenario, from within. Of the two, I find the one-shot version more compelling (and it would probably make a great convention-game), but in both cases, there isn’t really enough information presented in the hook to engage the players’ curiosity. Which is a shame, because the actual adventure presents plenty of curiosities.
How about stakes? Both adventures build stakes nicely throughout and both culminate in stakes that are satisfyingly high by the end. But only one entry kicks things off almost immediately with stakes interesting enough to lead the players further in. With “Fate,” we know almost immediately that the S.S. Symposium is in a decaying orbit and about to pass through a negative-energy sun’s corona within the hour.
Meanwhile, the players in “Play” are unlikely to know that anything is truly amiss until they get detoured to the wrong floor in the Department of Shakespearean Studies. Unless the PCs find themselves in someplace totally dark with the sword, which would be bad.
Of course, they could store it in something with no interior light, like a briefcase or box. That would be an interesting development, assuming the storage container is made of organic material. Presumably it becomes just a sword again the moment it eats through. That may even be the likely course of events, but it’s far from a given.
Innovations and Renovations:
The actual meat of these adventures could not be more different in presentation or expectation.
“Play” is a tightly organized piece that seems somewhat linear for a good portion of it (in part, I think, because many of its clues are presented within the narrative, which makes them harder to scan for). But it really opens up when it crosses over from investigative horror to survival and — just maybe — desperate heroism.
The transition is so smooth that the players probably won’t even notice the peril their characters are in until they’ve walked right into the center of it. That’s nice.
I do wish there was a little more guidance for how to telegraph to the players that the elevator stopped on the 5th floor, but this is a minor quibble. Personally, I’d probably give them some time to talk (or stand silently) in the elevator, interrupting occasionally with a vocal “ding.”
After four (or five, because it’s an English university?), I’d just stop and let the players eventually come to the conclusion that the doors aren’t going to open. If they aren’t talking, I’d probably indicate that they could feel when it came to a stop.
Something like this seems necessary, because I don’t think the players have any reason to suspect that they’ve been diverted in the adventure-as-written and they, therefore, won’t be as able to create a plan involving the 5th-floor.
With that said, I still find the misdirect very clever and the otherworldly city it leads to feels alien, desolate, and suspenseful. And then, suddenly, terrifying. The scenario that follows as the PCs try to outrun the darkness is great stuff. It could be hours (in-game) before they get the chance to return home!
Once they do, I’m not sure that monster-Ffoulker’s obsessive motivation to return from Praecipua with a copy of Shakespeare’s lost play is going to become clear to the players, but the necessity of keeping any object from that place away from Earth should at least be obvious. Good stuff!
(This section does raise some questions, although I’m not entirely certain that they need answers within the scope of the adventure. Did Shakespeare leave a copy of the play in Praecipua? Did he make a copy of a play that was already there? If the latter, why is the play in Praecipua written in his language and style? These strike me as good questions to follow up on in a future installment. If such is even a possibility, of course.)
Fun-House Factions:
“Fate” is a lot less cohesive, but is an incredibly dynamic adventure. Given that a majority is essentially a fun-house-adventure-style romp through the decks of a massive spelljamming ship, one could jump to the conclusion that the adventure will fall back on some silly clichés. This is reinforced somewhat by the prevalence of bards throughout.
But beneath the surface lurks an adventure as rife with factional politicking and betrayal as it is stacked with action. And, unlike most fun-house adventures, this one is laced with a dark undertone that works to subvert the potential clichés.
I’ll start with the factions. There are, of course, themed factions for each deck of the ship (kind of like the gangs in The Warriors). On top of that, there’s Virxorex and his Drop-Outs who serve as complicating antagonists, but, delightfully, aren’t wrong.
Finally, there’s Alerut and the cursed sword, Ludocrat, who controls him. Alerut is a bit of a redundant villain, but the sword is an excellent one! No reasoning will be possible with it and anyone who wishes to remove him from the machinery will immediately become a villain, themselves. Good stuff!
And that very fact turns the inevitable betrayal of the PCs by Alerut into a mere precursor to the betrayal that must necessarily split the party if they try to save the ship! Excellent!
Of course, the fact that it won’t actually save the ship is a bit of a problem, but it will at least lead to a better (and slightly escapable) outcome. I do wonder what happens if the players just take the egg and leave, though. Anyone still on the ship dies, but, other than that...nothing? Is that what victory looks like in this adventure?
That kind of brings me to my biggest issue with this adventure. Most of the adventure is action-packed, chaotic, and extraordinarily fun. But after all of that, the endings all seem like kind of a let-down. Even as a one-shot, I’m not sure that they would satisfy. The most climactic — the escape from crashing into Hemera — results in all life within the sphere being wiped out and replaced. And what do the PCs have to show for it? Other than, maybe, survival?
Maybe that isn’t the point. Maybe it’s all about the journey. It’s not like the players reminiscing years later are going to be talking about the rewards, anyway. They’ll be talking about the crazy twists and turns along the way, right? If that’s the case, this entry absolutely delivers.
So, which adventure is better? They both absolutely accomplish what they set out to do. I don’t think I can contrast them on their merits. My quibbles with each are minor.
That means it’s time for a look at...
Ingredients:
Right away, we are confronted with a disparity. The Dark Paragon in “Fate” will only come about in one of the end-game scenarios — and by the time it does, the action of the adventure is already effectively over.
Meanwhile, the Dark Paragon in “Play” is so overwhelming a presence in the entry that it almost stands out as its own (completely unrelatable) character. Given that it pretty much exemplifies what we fear about the dark, it fills the role as a paragon especially well. This is clearly the superior implementation.
“Play” hits in a big way with Name Level, as well. The inadvertent (and/or purposeful) tracing of a sigil (the name, G'Qaroc) as a means to transport to the dead city is very clever. The misdirect tying in the Stuck Elevator is likewise very good.
“Fate” doesn’t stack up, here. This is the entry’s weakest ingredient. The multi-tiered themed levels of the “dungeon” are very fun, but the actual names are fairly meaningless to the adventure.
On the other hand, the Binary Suns are well-utilized in both entries. In the case of “Play,” they might seem like mere set-dressing at a glance, but they actually play an important role in the light-chasing sequence by amplifying the unpredictability of where the shadows will emerge in this alien place. It helps the whole sequence look more fun. In a terrifying way. It does make me wonder where G'Qaroc really comes from, though. Surely it’s not native to the planet with two suns?
As much as I like that manifestation, I have to give the edge to “Fate,” here. Where “Play” uses it’s Binary Suns to create a great sequence and really amp up the alien feel of the dead city, “Fate” uses them to create the stakes for the entire adventure, and then give it shape. Very well done.
The Stuck Elevator is also well-used in both entries. Here, again, I really like the way “Play” ties it in with the Name Level to provide the turning-point in the adventure. And, yet, here again, “Fate” uses the ingredient to set the stakes and shape the entire thing. Once again, that earns the edge.
The Cursed Sword in “Play” is pretty good. At first it seems as if the object pawned doesn’t really need to be a sword, but it becomes clear later that the reason it is a sword is because the inhabitants of Praecipua had fallen fighting a losing battle against G’Qaroc and it would have been stranger for a terrified Pamir to have come across anything else just lying around.
The curse itself has a lot of potential for fun shenanigans and sets up the future-danger of letting Ffoulkes return with the play. That’s all very good.
But “Fate” gives us an evil intelligent Cursed Sword (in the traditional D&D sense) that is also cursed with a nihilistic outlook (and, hence, agenda). And it’s just a great villain!
Since both entries use the ingredient in ways that are significant to the shape of the adventure and directly relevant to the PCs, I’m inclined to consider this ingredient a draw, but I’ll lean toward “Fate” simply because the “Play” version may not actually be around for much of the adventure (depending on what the PCs do with/to it), but the “Fate” version will be there from start to finish.
“Fate” gives us a Bardic College that does not really seem to matter much to the adventure. Sure, it helps to flavor everything (oh so many bards; they’re everywhere!), but pretty much any institution of learning would do.
The Bardic College in “Play” is more clever and more central to the goings-on. I think the choice of Shakespeare wasn’t entirely necessary, but is entirely understandable. I do wonder if Christopher Marlowe wouldn’t have fit the adventure a little better; Doctor Faustus could have been autobiographical!
And, even then, you could have played around with theories that Shakespeare was an alias of Marlowe, or that Shakespeare stole his work. But that’s me on a tangent. At any rate, “Play” uses this ingredient considerably better than “Fate.”
And then there’s the Redundant Ogre. Both entries have a good handle on the redundancy. But neither really needed the ogres. Which is kind of the point, I guess, but still.
In the case of “Play,” we’ve got a professor whose department is being annexed into another. It is true that he is described as an unlikeable tyrant whom nobody misses when he effectively goes missing, but he isn’t really described as being brutish. And even if he was, it’s not something the PCs ever deal with.
Later, he’s transformed into a giant, misshapen-thing that works great within the adventure, but the form doesn’t matter. I don’t think “ogre” is what comes to mind, and even if it did, it could have been a giant spider, or a wraith, or...well, pretty much anything.
Meanwhile, we have in “Fate” two ogres, each redundant in their own way. Which is a nice way to play with that part of the ingredient! In the case of Virxorex, the ogre is redundant in that he has been replaced by Alerut. In Alerut’s case, he is used within the adventure as a villain, but is redundant in that capacity; the true villain is the sword, and it has no compunctions about using a new wielder.
This is good stuff, but the ogre-ness doesn’t really add anything to the adventure. Sure, their personalities are informed by their ogre-ness, but that’s about it. They could just as well have been humans with the same personalities.
(As an aside, I found myself wondering which edition the adventure was using. I assumed 2e, but I couldn’t be sure. Anyone coming from 5e or 4e probably wouldn’t know that Oni used to be called Ogre-magi. Ultimately, I don’t think it matters all that much, but I was curious.)
I don’t think either entry gets this one. Which means, we appear to be pretty much tied at this point. Well, I did say it was going to be close, didn’t I?
Anyone who has read the other two judgements for this match already knows the outcome. One might wonder, then, why I should bother going through the effort to present a redundant judgement of my own?
Two reasons. The least significant being that this judgement was written before reading the others.
The second is more fundamental to my role as a judge. But it will require a bit of an explanation.
To begin with, a judgement ought to be a thing of value to the match’s participants. My responsibility as a judge is to provide that value in the form of honest and analytical critique. My job is to break down entries, see what works and what could be developed further. And then to reconstruct it to see how all those parts work together.
What a judgement offers is certainly opinion, but it is opinion rooted in a reasonably deep analysis, given the time-constraints of the tournament structure. This is a great deal of effort to go through, to be sure, and would be hard to justify if the only point were a redundant judgement. But that simply wouldn’t be fair to the contestants.
See, when someone steps up to the challenge of being a competitor in an IRON DM match, they are putting their creativity and their skill on the line for critique. This is an endeavor that requires courage, time, and no small quantity of energy from the competitor. This holds true for neophytes and seasoned veterans alike.
By stepping up to meet the challenge, and by following through, the contestants earn the deep-analysis of their entries. As a judge, I owe them that work. The actual opinion? Less important than the analysis, except inasmuch as it is a byproduct of it. But, well, that’s just, like, my opinion, man.
With that said, I’ll rewind to before I knew what the other judgements would be:
This is going to be a tight match. Both entries are excellent. So much so that I would be equally unsurprised with a unanimous decision among the judges or a split decision in which mine is the minority.
Both of these entries are worthy of securing their author a spot in the championship round. But only one will. Let’s begin.
Hooks and Stakes:
Despite the overall quality of both adventures, I must say that I found the hooks from both entries serviceable, but somewhat lacking.
In the case of “The Playwright and Praecipua” (“Play”), we are given a scenario where the PCs are either directly contracted, or assigned by superiors to investigate the pawning of a peculiar sword, but we aren’t given any indication of what about this sword is so unusual as to warrant the investigation in the first place. If the shopkeeper was looking for an academic appraisal, or if the sword had killed the shopkeeper in the utter darkness of night, we’d have a considerably stronger hook.
In “The Fate of the Firebird” (“Fate”), we are given two hooks that either have the PCs investigating from the outside of the educational institution or, in the case of the one-shot scenario, from within. Of the two, I find the one-shot version more compelling (and it would probably make a great convention-game), but in both cases, there isn’t really enough information presented in the hook to engage the players’ curiosity. Which is a shame, because the actual adventure presents plenty of curiosities.
How about stakes? Both adventures build stakes nicely throughout and both culminate in stakes that are satisfyingly high by the end. But only one entry kicks things off almost immediately with stakes interesting enough to lead the players further in. With “Fate,” we know almost immediately that the S.S. Symposium is in a decaying orbit and about to pass through a negative-energy sun’s corona within the hour.
Meanwhile, the players in “Play” are unlikely to know that anything is truly amiss until they get detoured to the wrong floor in the Department of Shakespearean Studies. Unless the PCs find themselves in someplace totally dark with the sword, which would be bad.
Of course, they could store it in something with no interior light, like a briefcase or box. That would be an interesting development, assuming the storage container is made of organic material. Presumably it becomes just a sword again the moment it eats through. That may even be the likely course of events, but it’s far from a given.
Innovations and Renovations:
The actual meat of these adventures could not be more different in presentation or expectation.
“Play” is a tightly organized piece that seems somewhat linear for a good portion of it (in part, I think, because many of its clues are presented within the narrative, which makes them harder to scan for). But it really opens up when it crosses over from investigative horror to survival and — just maybe — desperate heroism.
The transition is so smooth that the players probably won’t even notice the peril their characters are in until they’ve walked right into the center of it. That’s nice.
I do wish there was a little more guidance for how to telegraph to the players that the elevator stopped on the 5th floor, but this is a minor quibble. Personally, I’d probably give them some time to talk (or stand silently) in the elevator, interrupting occasionally with a vocal “ding.”
After four (or five, because it’s an English university?), I’d just stop and let the players eventually come to the conclusion that the doors aren’t going to open. If they aren’t talking, I’d probably indicate that they could feel when it came to a stop.
Something like this seems necessary, because I don’t think the players have any reason to suspect that they’ve been diverted in the adventure-as-written and they, therefore, won’t be as able to create a plan involving the 5th-floor.
With that said, I still find the misdirect very clever and the otherworldly city it leads to feels alien, desolate, and suspenseful. And then, suddenly, terrifying. The scenario that follows as the PCs try to outrun the darkness is great stuff. It could be hours (in-game) before they get the chance to return home!
Once they do, I’m not sure that monster-Ffoulker’s obsessive motivation to return from Praecipua with a copy of Shakespeare’s lost play is going to become clear to the players, but the necessity of keeping any object from that place away from Earth should at least be obvious. Good stuff!
(This section does raise some questions, although I’m not entirely certain that they need answers within the scope of the adventure. Did Shakespeare leave a copy of the play in Praecipua? Did he make a copy of a play that was already there? If the latter, why is the play in Praecipua written in his language and style? These strike me as good questions to follow up on in a future installment. If such is even a possibility, of course.)
Fun-House Factions:
“Fate” is a lot less cohesive, but is an incredibly dynamic adventure. Given that a majority is essentially a fun-house-adventure-style romp through the decks of a massive spelljamming ship, one could jump to the conclusion that the adventure will fall back on some silly clichés. This is reinforced somewhat by the prevalence of bards throughout.
But beneath the surface lurks an adventure as rife with factional politicking and betrayal as it is stacked with action. And, unlike most fun-house adventures, this one is laced with a dark undertone that works to subvert the potential clichés.
I’ll start with the factions. There are, of course, themed factions for each deck of the ship (kind of like the gangs in The Warriors). On top of that, there’s Virxorex and his Drop-Outs who serve as complicating antagonists, but, delightfully, aren’t wrong.
Finally, there’s Alerut and the cursed sword, Ludocrat, who controls him. Alerut is a bit of a redundant villain, but the sword is an excellent one! No reasoning will be possible with it and anyone who wishes to remove him from the machinery will immediately become a villain, themselves. Good stuff!
And that very fact turns the inevitable betrayal of the PCs by Alerut into a mere precursor to the betrayal that must necessarily split the party if they try to save the ship! Excellent!
Of course, the fact that it won’t actually save the ship is a bit of a problem, but it will at least lead to a better (and slightly escapable) outcome. I do wonder what happens if the players just take the egg and leave, though. Anyone still on the ship dies, but, other than that...nothing? Is that what victory looks like in this adventure?
That kind of brings me to my biggest issue with this adventure. Most of the adventure is action-packed, chaotic, and extraordinarily fun. But after all of that, the endings all seem like kind of a let-down. Even as a one-shot, I’m not sure that they would satisfy. The most climactic — the escape from crashing into Hemera — results in all life within the sphere being wiped out and replaced. And what do the PCs have to show for it? Other than, maybe, survival?
Maybe that isn’t the point. Maybe it’s all about the journey. It’s not like the players reminiscing years later are going to be talking about the rewards, anyway. They’ll be talking about the crazy twists and turns along the way, right? If that’s the case, this entry absolutely delivers.
So, which adventure is better? They both absolutely accomplish what they set out to do. I don’t think I can contrast them on their merits. My quibbles with each are minor.
That means it’s time for a look at...
Ingredients:
Right away, we are confronted with a disparity. The Dark Paragon in “Fate” will only come about in one of the end-game scenarios — and by the time it does, the action of the adventure is already effectively over.
Meanwhile, the Dark Paragon in “Play” is so overwhelming a presence in the entry that it almost stands out as its own (completely unrelatable) character. Given that it pretty much exemplifies what we fear about the dark, it fills the role as a paragon especially well. This is clearly the superior implementation.
“Play” hits in a big way with Name Level, as well. The inadvertent (and/or purposeful) tracing of a sigil (the name, G'Qaroc) as a means to transport to the dead city is very clever. The misdirect tying in the Stuck Elevator is likewise very good.
“Fate” doesn’t stack up, here. This is the entry’s weakest ingredient. The multi-tiered themed levels of the “dungeon” are very fun, but the actual names are fairly meaningless to the adventure.
On the other hand, the Binary Suns are well-utilized in both entries. In the case of “Play,” they might seem like mere set-dressing at a glance, but they actually play an important role in the light-chasing sequence by amplifying the unpredictability of where the shadows will emerge in this alien place. It helps the whole sequence look more fun. In a terrifying way. It does make me wonder where G'Qaroc really comes from, though. Surely it’s not native to the planet with two suns?
As much as I like that manifestation, I have to give the edge to “Fate,” here. Where “Play” uses it’s Binary Suns to create a great sequence and really amp up the alien feel of the dead city, “Fate” uses them to create the stakes for the entire adventure, and then give it shape. Very well done.
The Stuck Elevator is also well-used in both entries. Here, again, I really like the way “Play” ties it in with the Name Level to provide the turning-point in the adventure. And, yet, here again, “Fate” uses the ingredient to set the stakes and shape the entire thing. Once again, that earns the edge.
The Cursed Sword in “Play” is pretty good. At first it seems as if the object pawned doesn’t really need to be a sword, but it becomes clear later that the reason it is a sword is because the inhabitants of Praecipua had fallen fighting a losing battle against G’Qaroc and it would have been stranger for a terrified Pamir to have come across anything else just lying around.
The curse itself has a lot of potential for fun shenanigans and sets up the future-danger of letting Ffoulkes return with the play. That’s all very good.
But “Fate” gives us an evil intelligent Cursed Sword (in the traditional D&D sense) that is also cursed with a nihilistic outlook (and, hence, agenda). And it’s just a great villain!
Since both entries use the ingredient in ways that are significant to the shape of the adventure and directly relevant to the PCs, I’m inclined to consider this ingredient a draw, but I’ll lean toward “Fate” simply because the “Play” version may not actually be around for much of the adventure (depending on what the PCs do with/to it), but the “Fate” version will be there from start to finish.
“Fate” gives us a Bardic College that does not really seem to matter much to the adventure. Sure, it helps to flavor everything (oh so many bards; they’re everywhere!), but pretty much any institution of learning would do.
The Bardic College in “Play” is more clever and more central to the goings-on. I think the choice of Shakespeare wasn’t entirely necessary, but is entirely understandable. I do wonder if Christopher Marlowe wouldn’t have fit the adventure a little better; Doctor Faustus could have been autobiographical!
And, even then, you could have played around with theories that Shakespeare was an alias of Marlowe, or that Shakespeare stole his work. But that’s me on a tangent. At any rate, “Play” uses this ingredient considerably better than “Fate.”
And then there’s the Redundant Ogre. Both entries have a good handle on the redundancy. But neither really needed the ogres. Which is kind of the point, I guess, but still.
In the case of “Play,” we’ve got a professor whose department is being annexed into another. It is true that he is described as an unlikeable tyrant whom nobody misses when he effectively goes missing, but he isn’t really described as being brutish. And even if he was, it’s not something the PCs ever deal with.
Later, he’s transformed into a giant, misshapen-thing that works great within the adventure, but the form doesn’t matter. I don’t think “ogre” is what comes to mind, and even if it did, it could have been a giant spider, or a wraith, or...well, pretty much anything.
Meanwhile, we have in “Fate” two ogres, each redundant in their own way. Which is a nice way to play with that part of the ingredient! In the case of Virxorex, the ogre is redundant in that he has been replaced by Alerut. In Alerut’s case, he is used within the adventure as a villain, but is redundant in that capacity; the true villain is the sword, and it has no compunctions about using a new wielder.
This is good stuff, but the ogre-ness doesn’t really add anything to the adventure. Sure, their personalities are informed by their ogre-ness, but that’s about it. They could just as well have been humans with the same personalities.
(As an aside, I found myself wondering which edition the adventure was using. I assumed 2e, but I couldn’t be sure. Anyone coming from 5e or 4e probably wouldn’t know that Oni used to be called Ogre-magi. Ultimately, I don’t think it matters all that much, but I was curious.)
I don’t think either entry gets this one. Which means, we appear to be pretty much tied at this point. Well, I did say it was going to be close, didn’t I?
So, what now? Here’s where I take a step back and look at each entry with a broader view. How do the individual pieces work together? How fundamentally integrated is the craft? How proud of the whole would I be if I had written it?
One of these entries is very, very, very good.
The other exemplifies everything I try to do when I’m the one in the hot-seat writing an entry.
The isolated ingredients are only part of the picture. “Play” uses them in such a way as to interconnect them into a tight web in subtle ways that help to tighten the whole adventure. Not only does this more-or-less eliminate space for plot-holes, it also provides a strong framework for the numerous clues to be spread out (all of which move the adventure forward, by the way).
@el-remmen, you obviously know what you’re about; you did, after all, start this whole thing! There are precious few entries that I think your entry would fall to.
But @humble minion has really stepped up their game in this round with a down-right artistic entry that is just about as good as it gets. It is the kind of entry that gets better each time it is read.
...And, thus, I return to the future to declare that, by unanimous decision, humble minion advances to the championship round!
Congratulations!
One of these entries is very, very, very good.
The other exemplifies everything I try to do when I’m the one in the hot-seat writing an entry.
The isolated ingredients are only part of the picture. “Play” uses them in such a way as to interconnect them into a tight web in subtle ways that help to tighten the whole adventure. Not only does this more-or-less eliminate space for plot-holes, it also provides a strong framework for the numerous clues to be spread out (all of which move the adventure forward, by the way).
@el-remmen, you obviously know what you’re about; you did, after all, start this whole thing! There are precious few entries that I think your entry would fall to.
But @humble minion has really stepped up their game in this round with a down-right artistic entry that is just about as good as it gets. It is the kind of entry that gets better each time it is read.
...And, thus, I return to the future to declare that, by unanimous decision, humble minion advances to the championship round!
Congratulations!
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FitzTheRuke
Legend
I enjoy the Judges critiques as much as I enjoy the entries themselves. I find them to be an immensely helpful learning tool, both for writing more of these entries, and for writing adventures generally. I don't think either of my entries would have been as good (such as they are) if I had not read the critiques of the earlier matches before writing.
There's a drawback to that, though: It may have been one of the reasons that I had such a hard time writing the latest one - I kept second-guessing how everything would be judged, until I was no longer enjoying myself. When I began to run out of time and just had to get something on the page, I had to let that go.
There's a drawback to that, though: It may have been one of the reasons that I had such a hard time writing the latest one - I kept second-guessing how everything would be judged, until I was no longer enjoying myself. When I began to run out of time and just had to get something on the page, I had to let that go.
