Tabletop Desktop

Desktop becomes Tabletop

I am stunned by the amount of writing I have been doing with the Oculus (though I do combine the orignal oculus with oculus12 which has a more FU resolution) in my hand. It is not a game, it is not a system, not even a tool. For me the oculus is a different, liberating way of looking at one’s own mind. While I have been hung up in the mechanics (more obsessing over them than anything else) or dismissing any writing as not good enough, the oculus has said just look, just observe and note what you are watching, adding ‘why is it important’? So my thanks to Geoff Osterberg for this creation.

It’s freed me and I appear to be burning the keys with it. Though I must say I do feel slightly guilty that it is not going into a proper journal, but rather into a computer. But then again, it is the bane of not only myself, but the modern man.

 Here is an example, a small one of what the Oculus can do...

Oculus Viewing #3

Experiment with the device continues as I journal the limits of its parameters. Today I focus once again on Murkstav, an adventurer in some alternate earth. I believe he hails from a place called Rivermoon though the locals seem to refer to it as Rilun.

Though let me intercede with a few words about the Oculus itself. It haunts you. I am not sure if it is the way the narrative is made but the Oculus is easy to obsess, almost like picking a good yarn on Netflix. Throughout my travels I have been continuously of returning to the Oculus, of opening the lens once again. No matter the scenario. I am not so much reminded of the Oculus as much as I see more and more opportunities to use it out in the wild. 

20,13 Escape, Nature

The oculus has been thrown. I believe that it is continuing the story of Murkstav, he has escaped the nature, escaped the forest which threatened him. Some fighting is being revealed to me, with swamp-like things (pun intended). He was not winning, with dripping mucous coming from the trees, a nauseous white light surrounding the scene. The kind of white that happened during a hangover in the eighties. There is a will out there, something that I cannot see in the lens but is out there in the forest, a strange feeling indeed that Murk is no doubt feeling. It is waiting out there, haunting him. and for this reason he goes to escape, wildly flying out in the realms.

Motherlode, Gibbous

This lead him to a cave, an open one that while seemingly a cave appears to be an entrance with stairs and old torches around. The Oculus has heralded a Gibbous Motherlode, running into a cave our hero walks in, perhaps too desperately and falls into a cavern, and there is the motherlode, a vast chamber of treasure, with a light far off in front. Surely in this mess, of piles and piles of treasure there is somethign that catches the eye.

Summonarium

Ye gods, our hero, intrepid has fallen right into the middle of a summonarium, the treasures abound an offering for the thing coming through the vortex of blue and black. Cursing in his breath, Murkstav pulls his sword and clerics around him go to seize him, he is perturbed if not annoyed and is... 

we got ourselves a yes but.

Murkstav fights off the clerics, three in all and is wounded, let us see if dungeonwords can resolve conflict. What happens when the clerics are slain, to the summonarium, the portal?

Chained

The thing is chained to the entrance, fighting with its head but it seems a collar and it fights to get out, Murkstav circles, a thought in his head, he does not want to touch the treasure for fear of releasing the demon. He moves about toward the light that appears to the left. Though remember, Murkstav is bleeding. Let us pull the oculus out and ask it but one thing, how bad is the wound?

Solve

Oh yes this is something Murkstav will just have to figure out.

Scrawl Session 3

Our heroes are in deep trouble, the party is split and things are looking rather unripe. A ramp has separated the two groups: Swann and Jestur and Malfor and Onilio. Alas how does it happen, sounds like a serious serious session with the good ol’ mantrap man. The Gods have not figured on how to get them out of there, thus we switch stories to Otilio and Malfor- the farmer still out from the fight with the Ettin. 

     Malfor coughed, his mind racing after the soul-ring grasped his consciousness from the lost worlds. Upon the brink of death the white-gold carried him forth, returning him to the realm of the living. We wakes but he is very weak, the ring pulling his consciousness from the brink of doom. It floated there and the metal surrounded his spirit until it rushed back to the mortal world of wonder, an greatness to behold. But Malfor returns incredibly weak and tired, barely able t carry his wondrous stuffings.

     Otilio heard the heroes fall down the hall. Heard the familiar slide, it was an old trick devised by a more intelligent culture, but he thought but could not place the magnificent tiles upon the service. The Gnorc entered the tomb from its eastern face, coming across it upon the cliff he scaled with a party. 

     The Gnorc, Otilio rushed down the corridor from where his new-found companions recently screamed from, he found nothing, the handle was on the base, he did notice the curtains waving a bit and the sand-marks of a drag or scuffle. 

     “They must be about here, I am sure of it” he thought to himself. Blazing forth toward the room, the Gnorc knew that this only meant doom to touch the torch but surely there was an alternate trigger. He noted about there was a sconce in the wall behind the torch

     Gnorc grabbed a length of rope, tying it about his waste and flung it over one of the railings supporting the curtains. Hanging himself from the waist he placed a torch upon the sconce. He felt a click, closed his eyes and hoped for the best. 

     Deep below Swann and Jestur fought flinging the remains of a former guest into the leech-flooding hole, they suddenly heard a clang, and the iris of the hole shut, slicing a leech in half.

The Logos Dungeon- Sessions 1 & 2

The Logos Dungeon- Summary of Sessions 1 & 2 using Dyson Logos's map, John Yorio's solo-play technique and Mark's rpgsolo.com amazing gm emulator. 

     A vision, a haunting dream of an open tomb, haunts the dreams of a magically-addicted scholar Igbold. His concubine sells the map that he scrawled in a night-terror stupor to the highest price at an Unnamed Tavern. 

     That highest price was to Jestur, a story-teller of ill-repute, a concoctor of tails and perhaps this very one. An former jester, he convinces the captain of a palace guard, Swann, to go into the business of treasure-hunting. 

     “Even a barbarian can do it!”

     “Barbarians have axes and rage”

     “Well I’ve got this!” Jestur responded, holding a wooden scepter with a jingles hanging from it.

     The two travel toward the location of said map, whereupon they come to a field of desolation, a promised crop gone horribly wrong, a tiny estate confiscated by the king. At the center is Malfor, a shattered farmer with a large bag, with all the tools of his now dead trade. Without much convincing he decides to join the troope. After all, as Jestur explains “Reaping monsters has got to be easier than reaping wheat!”

     After spending the night in camp, the neophyte-adventures venture forward to their destination- an opening in a cliff that glows at night like a beacon. Not many have talked about it, but surely it is the glow of gold. 

     “Too easy,” Swann remarked. 

     “Scared?” Jestur asked. 

     “No just putting you on your guard. It is a lovely shade of filthy rich is it not?”

     At the entrance to our yonder tomb, the trio find the walls lined in spectacular golden plates, each more valuable than the next. However something odd is amiss, the cave is crowded with riches. Pouches purses and packs lay piled high against the walls. 

     Thinking it is an offering, the three put their savings on the piles. 

     “One thing I know my friends is you take the gold when you are leaving!” Jestur gestured. 

     Moving south into the wide high tunnel something was amiss, the men of this accidental company faced a horrible monstrosity that had taken the cave as its refuge- an Ettin. A fierce battle was waged, where the Chivalier swung his sword but was dashed against a wall, dazed; the former-Jester threw bags of gold at the creature; the Farmer impaled and injured the creature but was so wounded he was lost from the battle and perhaps this world. A possible new ally, a tall greenish gnome fought mightily, strangely for his race, with an odd ferocity that none could compare. It was he who cleaved into one of the giant's heads, and continued to best it as our original comrades distracted it.

     Finally the fall of their most inculpable comrade, Malfor, the Farmer, drove the Chivalier to dare a splendid slice upon the creature- who fell barely missing Jestur.

     When the dust settled, the two survivors raced to their friend, seeing him on the brink of death. Gnome approached, Jestur realizing that he was not a gnome but a Gnorc- a gnomish with veins of orcish lineage. Taking a ring from his hand filled with rings, the Gnorc placed it upon the fallen, explaining it as a magical lure to the farmer's spirit. Not a way of catching but a way of catching souls.

     While Otilio, the Gnorc, attended to his patient, Jestur and Swann moved ahead in the tunnel. There they saw a wand burning brightly as a torch floating in the middle of a chamber that opened to the west of the corridor. Silk curtains tied with golden rings neatly invited the visitors. This Jestur found all too inviting, and despite warning from a shouting Otilio, he took the wand which was in reality a clever lever. Swann reacted instantly, as if saving the King himself, he rushed to Jestur and pulled him by the neck to escape the dividing stonewall.

     But it was too late and the two suddenly plummeted as the floor became a slide, carrying them to a dug-out chamber filled with sand. Locking them in place Jestur and Swann were not alone and they soon discovered that perhaps wearing armor in the desert sands is a good idea. For the floor moved and waved as hungry things snaked up and down toward them.

     Grabbing Jestur leg for a supper, the man screamed as Swann hacked at the creature.

     

Scrawl- A Solo Gaming Crawl 1

Scrawl- A Solo Gaming Crawl 1

I have been craving this for so long, inspired by +john yorio and his amazing ever-expanding dungeon and Mark incredible GM emulator, RPGsolo.com; I decided to run a massive craving I have had for the past few days, oddly since I got on vacation. 


The various colors are the results generated by rpgsolo.com, followed by the muses and actions of your humble player. I will try to post the adventures herein. Once again my hats off to John and Mark!

The Clearing

Here is another saga, using our engine and USR playing system Rather than playing 3 characters or just using one. I played 'a party' and each attribute became a person.

I also used the Five Room Dungeon which is...

Room 1: Entrance And Guardian
Room 2: Puzzle Or Roleplaying Challenge
Room 3: Red Herring
Room 4: Climax, Big Battle Or Conflict
Room 5: Plot Twist

Here is the party....

D'ang Dwarf D8 (weakened) Hp 1
Axe +2

Melan, Elf d6 Powerful Hp 6
Elvenly things. +2
Sword +1

M-U D4 Medium hp 3
Saving spells +2
Reusable Snare potion +2

Party Total 10,7

Wolves d6
Hit points 1

Werewolf morphed d8
HP 7, 3

Gloomy clearing.

The fog of the morning has lifted and the adventurers three, with D'ang wounded, move into a gloomy clearing, shattered tombstones are about. In the mist a pack of wild wolves smell the wounded veteran and move in.

The wolves are a modest d6 with HP of

1 = 1_[d6]

The elf sees the wolf from afar and attacks, shooting his longbow...

6 = 6_[d6]

wolf evades with a

1 = 1_[d6]

5 points of damage wolf goes DOWN!

WARF askes for healing the dwarf, Malcana responds. Severity of wounds are 5, she will roll got to

3 = 1_[d4]+2

She cannot heal. Let see if Melan can spot something that they could use, perhaps a tomb?

4 = 4_[d6]

He spots a tomb, is it trapped? NO DOUBT...

(Sure Thing | 9_[d10]) Yes.

Trap?

Werewolf.

I like it!

Cheap quill and ink.

Forget the trap. Melan with Mitra helping move D'ang to the pit of a forgotten tomb, but alas there is something in there that is worse, quite worse. There was a reason why there was so many things out there, why there were so many wolves- In the lair is a WEREWOLF of a D8!

7 = 7_[d8]

The thing growls from beneath, D'ang grabs his fiery axe is it magical?

(Very Likely | 3_[d10]) No.

No it is just a big damn axe. He raises it and Mitra casts in surprise...what kind of spell?

Ancient lore.

Dagger.

Magic dagger of ancient lore YES! Spilling from her hands, a deadly intent it goes against the werewolf's hide. Very likely that it is protected...

(Very Likely | 4_[d10]) No.

No it is not perhaps it was in mid morf. Lets roll!

8 = 8_[d8]

and her...d4+2

3 = 1_[d4]+2

She does not cast and the thing attacks D'ang...

3 = 3_[d8]

5 = 5_[d8]

He counters the things bite and Melan, the distance too short for his arrow moves in with a elfish short sword...

6 = 4_[d6]+2

vs. defend...

8 = 8

2 = 2_[d8]

Werewolf -4, he is at a solid 3, damn that elf is a badass! Moves and the wolf, pissed and snaps with an arm...

2 = 2_[d8]

and the elf, quick on his feet, defends by springing back...

6 = 6_[d6]

Her is on fire and the dwarf comes in, huffing...

5 = 5_[d8]

and the wolf

8 = 8_[d8]

nah he is out, he misses, Werewolf attacks, but who???

2 = 2_[d3]

Attacks Melan with a bite

6 = 6_[d8]

3 = 1_[d6]+2

D'ang he screams and I got to get Mitra into this let her loose with a...

Set snares.

Very high quality potion.

Mitra throws a snare potion, a bottle breaking and letting loose a whole bunch of ugly is there a plus on that?

(Sure Thing | 10_[d10]) Yes, and...

not only is there a plus but it is reusable!

2 = 2_[d3]

She throws the bomb

3 = 1_[d4]+2

Thing defends will he move??? ye gods I hope not!

6 = 6_[d6]

Nah he moves out of the way, the things rasping and colliding moving and thrashing.

But all to not... He snaps at the elf again

5 = 5_[d6]

Elf defends

5 = 3_[d6]+2

Defender wins! he slashes with that great sword of his.

6 = 3_[d6]+3

thing defends

4 = 4_[d6]

Werewolf DIIIIIES by the blade of Melan!

4 = 4_[d6]

Does the werewolf have anything useful, perhaps using the tomb as a shelter or something, I would say it is very likely!

(Very Likely | 10_[d10]) Yes, and...

Exquisite ancient artifact.

The werewolf not only had loot at the entrance, furs to keep warm but he has an exquisite ancient artifact. an..

Flail.

Reading lips.

In the underbrush of hams and lovely things there is the wonder of a forgotten flail which can read lips, you can spot things ahead, it hears by movement and will vibrate if something or someone is ahead.

D'ang claims it thankfully, "At least somethin' has got to come out of this damn place..."

He is happy with the healing pots found, he gorges them, it is likely they will work

(Likely | 1_[d10]) No, and...

No, he gobbles it down before Melan can stop him and is, yep, poisoned, and at one HP the dwarf is far worse.

Let us put down what caused D'ang dilemma, his falling into such serious damage.

Magic.

Overindulge.

Common criminal.

"After a drunken night with lots of ale, Melan and Mitra annoyed at him, D'ang spilled out into the street, his coffers dangling from his pockets spilling newly found gold and a common criminal goes to come at him, rob him. Magic is used perhaps a magical dagger of some sort and he is fallen. What was the reason for them going to the graveyard?

Allies.

It was in the way of them finding Gnish the healer on the dark side of a swamp.