Campaign Notes 4: Private Props Are Inherently Theft

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There are some game systems which directly address the physical space of RPGing; that space matters, because it girds everything else. We can play Dungeons: The Dragoning online via Zoom, or in a Turkish bathhouse where a swarthy man named Yağmur watches with interest and his penis out. Same game, wildly different vibes.

The indie space is where I often see it. 10 Candles by Stephen Dewey makes ten literal candles the centerpiece for its horror-mood, for example. Other games like Monte Cook Games' Invisible Sun embrace the idea that props can uplift the vibe of a session to a staggeringly expensive degree*.

You're a gamer now, get in.

All of the above to say that I, personally, love what props can bring to an atmosphere. But like choosing which gas station you're going to atomize with a burrito-bowel movement, you have to be discerning. Not any prop will do. You need props with room for you to pitch forward and grab your ankles while you pray to whatever god is listening. You need props with solid doors to stifle what will, to anyone outside, sound like an opera singer being messily murdered mid-Nesusn dorma. You need props that will let you unload your gutful of hellfire, then waddle over to the counter and say "one burrito, please".

I hope showcasing my own (props, not bowel movements), you'll get a look into the rationale for each; what it brings to the atmosphere, what it offers in utility, etc.

Prose & Contracts

Probably one of the more important props I wanted to bring to the game came from one of its central themes; the ways in which material circumstance impede, support, or otherwise impact ideologies. What good is a rebellion with no ammo? A freedom fighter without the literal things needed to fight? So I very much want the players to be invested in the Jungian shadow that is their mercenary company's financials.

What I didn't want was to make it boring, opaque, or ancillary. If I was going to make them do math, it had better be worthwhile. In any case, here's what I made:

You've seen this already, but I'm proud of it so you're seeing it twice.

Behold! In my previous entry I talked about one of the recurring "Starting Contexts" being the rote aspect of their employment as mercenaries. Get contract, do mission. This handout is meant to enshrine that in a tactile way; if no player makes a single note, remembers nothing of the previous session, they can still look at the current contract and see who is employing them, who they're fighting, and for how long.

I've also encoded useful information that will come up-- how much will their employer reimburse them for damage/expenses, and how much of the battlefield loot will they keep? Hopefully, having those terms explicit will help the players think in terms of 'is this fight worthwhile?' which is where I want their heads to be (or at least end up).

It's a single piece of paper, and lemme tell you I worked very hard to make sure it stayed exactly that. I want to give them the feel of complex litigious language; I don't want to burden them with the reality of it.

Just as important is the information I've purposeful omitted. I decided against putting in anything regarding the relative strengths of enemies and allies. Why? That's a big blank space for player agency-- if they want to get involved in deciding what contracts the Ninth Wave Free Company takes, the easiest way to contribute is to research who they're fighting. Maybe that juicy payout on paper is because they're going up against The Hellripper Regiments instead of the Softsad Children's Militia.

Information informs player action, and well-positioned absence can prompt it.

Here Be DRG-1Ns

The other prop I plan to use with relativity is a very simple "you are here" map, showing the planet they're currently on and the region it is in. This isn't something I'd attempt if there were already a truly intense preexisting support for maps of the setting.

Here is the first map for their first adventure scenario/contract.

It's cribbed almost wholesale from Sarna.net because that website is to my BattleTech hyperfixation what spraypaint is to someone who wants to huff spraypaint. But I chose (and modified slightly) for two reasons.

1. The map has two circles; the first is the distance of a single JumpShip, the second the distance of a single hyper-pulse. Together, they respectively indicate how well-connected the planet is physically and informationally to the rest of the region.
2. The map doesn't show the entire Inner Sphere, but implies their current region's position relative to it. Hopefully that emphasizes that this is a big galaxy; to show its totality would be to make it small again. Like in the story about blind men and an elephant, I want them to feel a part so they can wonder about the whole.

It's framing, again. It's always framing. Find the edge, draw a line in the sand, place the chicken wire. It's not a forest until you find the treeline; up until then it's just the wilderness.

Nerd's Eye View

Finally, I've got the planetary regional map of Gangtok. A lot of what I mention above still applies-- I wanted the map to only show a part, to keep the whole a blank space their imaginations can fill. Unlike the stellar cartography, this handout is going to have some more definable utility and implications.

Bless St. Azgaar and their mighty generator

I mucked around quite a bit with stuff like pallets, aesthetics of mountains and coastlines and rivers. But they're aesthetics. I tried to make them look good because looking good is nice. It's why I spend so much time in front of a mirror. I'm incredibly handsome. I'm just so goddamn handsome**.

But that aside, there's some rationale behind exactly how and where I placed stuff.

The main spaceport for the planet Gangtok is "Highbreak". You'll note, however, that it is not centered in the map; instead the city of Brightlake Depot is. The Depot is the cultural center of the planet, where people of Grossman's Peak and Simon's Valley mingle, and I wanted to emphasize that. Highbreak is a place of control and safety for the PCs, it's where the Ninth Wave is bivouacked, and it's where the Directorate Remnant is absolutely not going to be.

The map, then, is meant to show a lot of places they could be. Lots of wilderness which the PCs will have to scout and patrol in order to hound their adversary for a confrontation.

Relatedly, I chose ~20 mile hexes to try and balance between isolation and access. At ~60 miles per hour (reasonable for these Mechs), it's roughly 4-5 hours from Highbreak to Brightlake Depot. That's easy on a kind of strategic level, but tricky on the tactical level. It means that a lance-on-patrol can't expect reinforcements to save them from a tight spot.

Finally, I tried to make sure there was a reasonable diversity of terrain implied by the map. Highbreak sits in rolling hills, Brightlake on the edge of a large lake/quarry, Grossman's Peak is snuggled in the rough terrain leading to the mountains, and Simon's Valley is in a fertile river valley. Confrontations at any location should feel different, and hopefully that's something I can play with when I'm encounter building.

I anticipate next Campaign Notes to talk about actual sessions as they happen, but schedules are the bane of all RPGs so we'll see. Actually, that's not true. The true bane of all RPGs is Goreslaker the Imagimonster, who feeds on dreams and vivisects the unworthy. He dreams of teeth, and nothing else. Those He culls will find no mercy in the eternity which follows.

His maw is an abattoir of all human hope. Also He plays Pathfinder.

*This is the most money I've ever spent on a single RPG item, and frankly my car was probably going to be repossessed anyway.

**My mother is very clear on this.