Portal Under the Stars, Chapter 4

Introduction: Portal Under the Stars Playthrough

Portal Under the Stars, Chapter 1

Portal Under the Stars, Chapter 2

Portal Under the Stars, Chapter 3

“I can’t see anything,” Hilda Breadon panted in the darkness. “We– we have to stop.”

Seven Graymoor residents bumped into one another in a halting, huddled column, all breathing heavily from the surge of fear they’d just experienced escaping the pool room.

“Does anyone have a torch or lantern?” Leda asked. Her burned and painful back pressed against the rough stone of the wall through her black-scaled armor, seeking solidity and support in the dark.

“The halflin’s an’ I don’ need it,” Umur panted. “But this might work for the rest of ye.”

Soft white light filled the space as the dwarf opened his palms to reveal the glowing jewels Ethys had retrieved. Leda smiled despite her pain. She hadn’t relished bumbling blindly in this deadly, alien place.

“Ah,” Hilda chuckled. “Ya, those work.” Soon more light spilled into the cramped staircase as she held a handful of the beautiful, spectral gems.

Ethys followed suit, then Leda herself, fishing the gems out of a pocket at her belt. They passed stones to Verik, Erin, and Bern. Soon all of them had at least a few of the luminescent jewels, which banished the shadows as well as any torch. 

For those who know Portal Under the Stars: Technically, the adventure doesn’t make the jewels themselves luminescent. Instead, as written the light is from the room below and shines up through the gems. But I liked the visual of white, glowing gemstones that had some utility as torches (especially since I unfortunately hadn’t really been attending to light sources throughout the rest of the map… something I didn’t realize until the pool room. oops). As an additional perk, they add to the otherworldly and magical vibe of this unexplained structure beyond the portal.

They stood on a descending, spiraled staircase, the stairs wide enough that they could almost walk two abreast without their shoulders scraping against the stone. Almost, but they assembled themselves single file to proceed down to the lower level of this palace-beyond-the-portal. Leda maneuvered herself to the front of the line. Umur and Bern followed behind her gripping weapons in one hand, glowing jewels in the other.

At the bottom of the stairs, the residents found themselves in a long, narrow room, perhaps ten steps wide and five times as long. A door, iron-banded and wooden as all the others, stood firmly closed at the far end of the room. The room itself was bare except for ledges that ran the length of the long walls. Veric, short even for a halfling, stood on his tiptoes to peer up and into them.

“Um,” he whispered in a small voice. “What are those in– oof! What are those in there?”

Bern raised his handful of the glowing gems near the ledge and squinted. “Huh, good eyes you’ve got there. Little soldiers. Made of clay, if I’m not mistaken.” He plucked one from its place and handed it to the haberdasher. Veric made a pleased sound as he turned the solder over in his hand.

There is a small bit of treasure for those who search the length of the ledges. Who would do so? I think the two halflings, Veric and Ethys, are too short for a thorough search. Leda and Umur are both injured and are acting as the de facto leaders of the group so wouldn’t allow themselves to be distracted. I’ll roll for the other three:

Bern rolls a [7 + 0] 7.

Erin rolls a [4 + 1] 5.

Hilda rolls a [14 + 0] 14 and hits the Search DC of 10. This makes some sense to me, since she seemed the most excited by finding the gems. I think Hilda has a little bit of greed in her.

As the group moved towards the door warily, Hilda lingered behind. Tongue lodged between her lips in concentration, she brought the glowing jewels up to peer into the ledge nearest her. Her eyes darted left and right, scanning the clay figures.

Leda noticed the baker dawdling with some annoyance. Now that they had some treasure and had realized the deadliness of this place, she considered Little Gyles’ death… not avenged, per se, but at least serving some purpose. The town councilor was anxious to see if now they could find a way back to the old stone mound. She opened her mouth for a reprimand, but then Hilda surprised her with an excited yelp.

“I found some silver ones!” she whooped, not at all whispering. Tamping down a growl, Leda followed her companions to crowd around the sturdy woman in her patchwork armor.

Hilda had to tuck the rolling pin into an armpit as she displayed what she’d discovered. Sure enough, they were small figures of soldiers, like the one that Bern had handed to Veric, each as long as a finger. Yet the four Hilda held up gleamed metallically.

For several minutes the other humans searched the ledges, but to no avail. Hilda had spotted the only obvious treasures and seemed none too eager to give them up. She proudly tucked the figures beneath her breastplate and blouse, smiling broadly the whole time. “For safe keeping,” she chuckled, patting her armor.

“Away with us then,” Umur growled. “See if tha’ door can lead us out or if we ha’ to go find out what all the crashin’ was about upstairs.”

“I’m certainly ready to leave,” Leda nodded. The others agreed, and, with a quickly held breath, Leda opened the door.

Art by Doug Kovacs
Amazing map art by Doug Kovacs

The room beyond was as breathtaking as it was intimidating. As large as the room with the giant statue and the pool room combined, the cavernous space was thrice tiered. An oversized throne rested upon a raised dais at the back, and seated upon the throne was a large clay statue. To Leda, the warlord on the throne looked identical to the visage above that spewed fire from its fingertip–barrel-chested and wearing animal hides and charm-laden necklaces, with a heavy sword at his hip. The deadly stone statue above had been as tall as three Graymoor dwellings, and this clay one was perhaps half that size and seated, yet no less intimidating. Atop the throne, light pulsated from a crystal globe, illuminating the entire chamber. Absently, Leda tucked the glowing jewels from her hand back into her pocket as the others did the same.

Below the dais, at floor level, seven other clay statues–these perhaps half again as tall as a person–stood motionless. Each looked fierce and distinct from the others, carrying a variety of clay weapons in menacing poses. Below them, in a huge sunken pit that ran the length of the room, stood an army of identical clay soldiers, all the size of a human, their clay armor and spears seemingly ready for war. 

The ceiling above had partially collapsed, sending debris and water into the sunken pit. Carnage from the collapsed ceiling had settled, though dust still drifted through the air. Many of the clay soldiers lay broken or canted to one side, and all of them drooped from the pond at their feet. With a start, Leda realized that the pool room must have been directly above this one, and the crashing they’d heard earlier had been the collapse she now witnessed. A pang of guilt ran through her at the thought that she and her companions had utterly ruined not only the beauty of the shimmering pool, but this majestic statuary garden. Then she remembered Little Gyles’ dead, empty stare and all guilt vanished.

Suddenly, the large figure on the throne jerkily and mechanically raised its arm, pointing at the doorway in which Veric, bringing up the rear of their line, stood. In reaction, the seven figures at floor level snapped to attention and mimicked the gesture, their fingers leveled at the party of villagers.

And then, with a yelp from Veric and scream from Hilda, the entire army of damaged clay soldiers lurched into motion.

My first DCC combat! And what an epic combat it is. There were originally 70 clay soldiers in the pit, plus 7 generals and 1 warlord. Each statue, regardless of rank, has an AC of 12, 9 hit points, and a spear. On the surface, this is a completely and utterly unwinnable combat for a handful of Level 0 peasants.

But the party’s perseverance in getting the jewels from the floor of the pool has helped them immensely. The debris from the falling ceiling did 1d6 damage to every figure in the room except the warlord (I spent a very long time rolling, like a maniac, individual damage for each figure). More importantly, the pit has filled with water that is rapidly dissolving the clay soldiers. Every round they stay in the pit will mean an additional 1 damage. I’ve let two rounds “tick” since the collapse, which has destroyed more than 20 of the soldiers. The remaining 47 or so have between 1 and 6 remaining hit points. The soldiers are slow (10 feet of movement), and only those at the edge of the pit can climb out, which uses a turn. All others will continue to take damage. So the party will soon have far fewer opponents to fight than they would have without the collapse, and the longer they can keep them in the pit the fewer they’ll face.

The generals and warlords will remain motionless while the soldiers attack and are non-combatants. If a savvy character can deduce it, taking out the generals will cause the soldiers to become disorganized and more random. If they destroy the (currently undamaged) warlord, all remaining clay statues will become inert. I’m not sure how I’ll determine that a PC can puzzle out this tactic, but without good tactics this is absolutely a Total Party Kill (TPK), so I might just give it to them. Dang these solo games are tough!

I’ve rolled initiative for each PC and the soldiers. Erin, Veric, Hilda, and Leda will go first, then all of the soldiers en masse, then Umur, Ethys, and Bern. Remember that the soldiers won’t be able to attack until they’ve climbed out of the pit, whereas the PCs can attack from higher ground (giving them a +1 to hit as well).

Oh boy. Here we go.

I’ll roll the first four PC attacks here and then narrate the action:

Erin with her dagger rolls… a natural 20! That’s a critical hit that destroys it. Wow what a way to start.

Veric rolls a [2+2] 4. Yep, he’s a haberdasher.

Hilda rolls a [10+1] 11, missing by 1 with her rolling pin.

Leda rolls a [11+0] 11, also missing by 1 with her father’s longsword. Not a great start, and things are about to get scary…

Quick-witted Erin Wywood, town councilor’s daughter and local minstrel, was the first to act. While the others stood goggling at the army rising up before them, she jabbed out from the lip of the pit into the head of a rising clay soldier. Like a log briefly surfacing in swamp water and then sinking below, the soldier toppled backwards and into the muddy pool behind.

“Get to the one on the throne!” she yelled at the others. “It’s controlling them!” Against all sense of reason, the girl then began jogging her way around the edge of the pit, deeper into the room, as clay soldiers rose up all around her.

Veric, wide-eyed and clearly near panic, followed close behind her. As he passed a rising soldier he flailed with his iron scissors, missing it by a country mile. Cursing and screaming, Hilda was right behind him.

Without realizing she was doing so, Leda pulled her father’s longsword free of its scabbard. Yelling in fear and pain, she swung at the first clay soldier climbing out of the pit nearest her. Yet she had never swung the sword, however, and misjudged its length. The blade sailed in front of the oncoming figure ineffectually.

Clay soldiers were boiling out of the pit on all sides, many missing arms or large chunks of their heads from the fallen ceiling, with legs soft and distorted by the water filling the hole. Some within the pit listed and fell without rising again. It was chaos, and every one of the Graymoor residents yelled or screamed in visceral peril.

Any soldier near and edge of the pit climbs out of it, spears to the ready. Those within the pit move to the nearest edge and tick a damage. Seven more die, leaving 24 in the pit and a terrifying 16 that have climbed out.

Umur lashes out with his shortsword for [17+2] 19, dealing 5 damage and killing another!

Ethys stabs at one who’s cleared the pit with a roll of [17+0] 17, dealing 3 damage with her spear! Another soldier down.

Bern stabs with his spear, rolling [19+0] 19, dealing 5 damage and killing another one that rises!

Okay those last three rolls made up for the first group. But there is still a long way to go.

14 clay soldiers are alive and have cleared the pit, but the walkway around the pit is narrow and will prevent many of them from attacking.

Round 2 attack rolls:

Erin [9+0] 9. Veric natural 20 with a hit in the eye! Hilda [17+0] 17 for 2 damage! Leda [19-1] 18 for 5 damage! Woo!

Roaring, Umur lashed out with the shortsword he’d plucked from Mythey’s corpse before even entering the portal. How long had it been, some part of Leda’s mind wondered hysterically. Two hours? More? The dwarf cleaved an oncoming soldier nearly in two as it toppled, inert. To his right, Ethys and Bern stabbed in tandem with their spears, pushing two soldiers off the ledge of the pit and into the muddy slurry below.

Out at the edge of the pit, halfway to the warlord sitting motionless atop his throne, Erin swung wildly and then, panting, stepped back. Veric leapt forward, both hands holding the ends of his scissors, and plunged them into the clay head of a soldier while Hilda bashed one aside with her rolling pin. Soldiers crumpled and slumped, even as more used their bodies for purchase to climb out of the pit.

Leda saw all of this out ahead of her. The grip on her father’s sword was slick with sweat, but she had the balance and length of the weapon now. Drawing inspiration from the others, she screamed and cleaved a soldier’s head from its clay body.

I won’t try to describe the mayhem on the map I’m using to track all of the PCs, soldiers, and their movements. Suffice it to say, two of them have cleared the pit and are adjacent to PCs, giving them an opportunity to attack, one on Veric and the other on Leda. They each have a whopping +4 to attack with their spears and deal 1d8 damage if they hit.

The clay soldier facing Veric rolls a [3+4] 7 and misses.

The clay soldier facing Leda rolls a [13+4] 17 and hits. Leda only has 2 hp remaining, and the soldier rolls max damage. Our fearless town councilwoman is very, very dead.

Six more soldiers die from the water in the pit. That leaves 12 still in the pit and now 16 up on ground level with their spears. The way is clogged, but Erin is going to see what’s going on and shout out a new tactic for the others to follow.

Leda shouted triumph as she felled the soldier. In that moment, she felt like a warrior of old, black-scaled armor shining under the light of an alien, mystical orb as she cleaved foes with her ancestral longsword, all while some alien warlord god looked down from his throne. She wished her father could see her now, like an avenging angel of battle.

“Ha! Did you see, Umur?” she shouted. Then she felt a sudden, sharp pain in her back.

“No!” Umur yelled, eyes wide. Leda looked down, confused, to see the clay spearhead protruding from her chest, and then thought nothing at all.


Erin watched the town councilwoman fall to her knees and then face-first to the stone floor, a clay spear protruding from her back. Umur was swinging his sword, beating back soldiers as they crawled out of the pit in a vain attempt to reach her fallen form. Bern and Ethys were near him, stabbing with their black spears. Ahead of her, Hilda swung her rolling pin and Veric his scissors.

But a tidal wave of soldiers were climbing up ahead of them all, blocking the way to the warlord on the throne. The odds were impossible, and she realized with fatal certainty that they could not survive the dozens of clay soldiers.

Using a voice honed by countless hours of singing, she called out across the cacophony of battle. “Into the pit! Dive into the pit!”

It’s the start of Round 3. At the end of the last round, Umur, Ethys, and Bern all hit with their weapons and felled one soldier each, but Erin is correct that they are all going to go the way of Leda unless they change tactics.

Attack rolls this round: Erin rolls a [7+0] 7, Veric rolls a [2+2] 4, and Hilda rolls a [9+0] 9. Ouch. None of them hit, so I’ll say they just swing wildly as they follow Erin’s lead into the slushy, muddy pit.

The advantage of being in the pit is that the clay soldiers now outside of the pit can’t hit them (assuming they move away from the edge, which they all will do) without taking a turn to reenter. The downside is that any remaining soldiers in the pit can move to attack them. Each of the three who’ve dived in are facing a spear.

The one facing Hilda rolls a [2+4] 6!

The one facing Erin rolls a [2+4] 6!

The one facing Veric rolls a [10+4] 14. Poor Veric only has 1 hp, so he dies.

Then there are the soldiers at ground level and one of them is facing Bern. The soldier rolls a [14+4] 18, hitting. Bern has an impressive 5 hp, but it rolls 7 damage with its spear. The herbalist dies as well. Dang. The body count is getting high!

Two of the soldiers die from the continued water exposure, and every other soldier in the pit now has 1 hp.

Up on ground level, Umur dives into the pit and rolls a [19+1] 20, killing one of the soldiers there (the soldiers are slow, whereas the PCs can get into the pit and attack in one round). Ethys jumps in too, but rolls a [4+0] 4, missing the one nearest her.

This next round is going to be huge.

Dagger in hand, Erin took her own advice. She leapt into the pit, stumbling in the knee-high water across ceiling debris and half-dissolved clay figures. The minstrel moved away from the edge and any spear thrusts. A splash from Veric signaled that he had followed her lead, and then a thunderous crash and whoop as Hilda joined them.

The three shouted for the others at ground level to follow. Ethys dove as nimbly as she’d done in the pool above, despite the shallow water and debris. Umur, roaring, landed directly atop a soldier in the pit. The impact of dwarf on soft clay utterly crushed the thing.

Bern readied his leap, but not before a spear clipped his side. He turned to face the soldier attacking him, which allowed another soldier to jab out. Erin watched the herbalist die under a barrage of blows, mere fingerspans from the edge of the pit.

The clay soldiers that remained in the slushy, muddy pond had lost much of their cohesion and moved sluggishly, but they were still threats. Erin ducked under a swing from one. Hilda blocked another spear with her rolling pin.

“Veric! Behind you!” Ethys yelled out. The haberdasher spun and made a brief squeal as the spear thrust through his neck. Soldier and halfling went down beneath the water’s surface.

Round 4 and it’s a desperate run across the pit now. Erin zigs and zags to make it as close to the southern part of the pit as possible, killing a soldier in front of her thanks to a [14+0] 14 roll with her dagger. Hilda is right on her heels, but unfortunately rolls a [3+0] 3.

Thankfully, when it’s time for all the soldiers to go, Hilda continues her preternatural dice luck. One soldier rolls a [2+4] 6 to miss her and another rolls [3+4] 7. No other soldiers can reach any PCs this round. Amazing.

The soldiers do, however, start piling back into the pit in pursuit. At the end of their turn, there are now 15 soldiers in the pit, 11 of which die to water damage. Only 4 more are outside of the pit and ready to climb in. None of the 8 remaining clay soldiers (4 in the pit, 4 outside) are at a single hp, however, so the PCs will either have to evade them more than a turn or kill them to survive.

Umur drops one in the pit with a roll of [14+1] 15, doing 3 damage. Ethys doesn’t stand and fight, and instead dashes to Hilda and Erin’s side.

Can I just pause a moment and say: This is crazy! I’ve heard DCC adventures are epic and gonzo even at Level 0, and this feels like a good example. Nice job, Joseph Goodman.

The flood of soldiers had become a trickle. Several slogged slowly towards them, but often the water took their legs and they fell face-down into the slurry. Other clay soldiers moved from the pit’s edge back in. Their numbers were manageable now, Erin thought. Her eyes darted left and right, trying to judge each soldier’s relative cohesion, the speed of the damage done by the water, and her companion’s retreat.

Two soldiers made it to either side of Hilda. As they pulled back their spears to attack, they slumped like melting candles.

“Keep going!” she urged them on. “To the back! To the throne! Keep them in the water!”

Panting, laboring, and terrified, the three Graymoor residents followed Erin to the far southwestern corner of the pit. Clay soldiers moved awkwardly towards them, stumbling, falling, and never rising as they went. Eight soldiers became six, then four, then two.

A mere handful of feet from Erin and her group, huddled in a corner with weapon raised, the last soldier collapsed.

Rounds 5, 6, and 7 are like a game of “Marco Polo” in a pool. The PCs move to the far southwestern corner of the pit while the remaining soldiers slog their way through the water towards them. But they can’t reach the PCs in time. Erin, Hilda, Umur, and Ethys have survived! Holy crap!

Without pausing, Erin pulled herself up and out of the muddy mess. Hilda followed, then turned to pull Ethys and Umur up.

“Careful,” she cautioned. “Now the generals might attack.”

At this alarming statement, the others leapt to a defensive formation, weapons ready.

But nothing moved. The warlord on his throne and generals assembled at his feet had been merely the catalysts to activate the clay army. They stood, fingers pointed accusingly at an empty doorway far across the cavernous room. That is, until the residents of Graymoor destroyed them with repeated blows to their clay bodies. Eventually, not even the giant warlord on the throne remained.

Only then did Erin allow herself to relax, hands on muddy knees. Of the twelve who’d assembled around the portal beneath the stars, only the four of them remained.

Portal Under the Stars, Chapter 5

Portal Under the Stars, Chapter 3

Introduction: Portal Under the Stars Playthrough

Portal Under the Stars, Chapter 1

Portal Under the Stars, Chapter 2

The seven remaining Graymoor residents, in wonder, examined their surroundings. The room they found themselves in was rectangular and larger even than where they’d just escaped the deadly, fire-spewing statue. This space was dominated by an enormous pool of water running the entire length of the room. Something shone from beneath the water’s surface, illuminating the polished walls and ceiling with dancing, spectral light. A walkway of stone surrounded the pool, and along the western and eastern sides were several pillars reaching floor-to-ceiling. In the far, northeastern corner, Leda spied a doorway.

“It’s beautiful,” Erin Wywood, the minstrel, sighed.

“Oh, but– oh no!” Hilda Breadon whispered urgently. The baker looked incongruous wearing pieces of enameled, black armor while wielding a rolling pin in one of her large hands. “Something’s moving. There! Between the pillars.”

They all froze. Indeed, it wasn’t a single humanoid figure moving, but perhaps half a dozen. All of the creatures, it seemed, were shuffling their way towards them. The movements were stilted and slow, like a puppet on the end of a beginner’s strings.

All around Leda, hands gripped weapons, and Umur drew his short sword from its scabbard. Veric Cayfield even fumbled in the pouch at his hip and pulled forth a pair of iron scissors.

Leda, for her part, left her father’s sword sheathed. She had never drawn it in combat–never fought with any weapon, really. Instead, she involuntarily made fists at her side, hands shaking, and her back still throbbing with pain.

The nearest, shambling figure rounded a pillar and came fully into view. It was a human woman, except that she seemed to be made entirely of a translucent crystal. Because of her glasslike nature and the shimmering light, it was difficult to make out too many features, but the details were astounding. The figure looked exactly like an armored, barefoot woman, yet transformed to crystal.

“What– what is it?” Ethys Haffoot gasped.

“Traps, not monsters,” Veric whispered fervently. Leda saw that his hands were shaking far worse than her own, the scissors bobbing in the air in front of him. “Traps, not monsters. Traps, not monsters.”

The crystalline figures are not inherently dangerous, but they will defend themselves if attacked. So the question is: Are any of the PCs dumb or nervous enough to attack unprovoked? I’m going to say that Ethys, Umur, and Erin are all too smart to be reckless. For DCC, Intelligence is a combined stat for what D&D would call Intelligence and Wisdom. From the DCC rulebook: Intelligence is the “ability to discern information, retain knowledge, and assess complex situations.” It’s that last bit that matters here.

There is only one PC currently alive that has a negative modifier to Intelligence, and that is sadly Councilwoman Leda Astford (she has a very high Personality, which is how she became an elected leader). So let’s roll a DC 10 check, giving her a 50/50 shot at success…

Leda rolls a (17-1) 16. Whew.

The crystal figure approached Erin, who reached out a hand in awe and touched its unmoving face. The animated sculpture crowded closer, seeking the minstrel’s outstretched hand. Everyone else tensed.

Then Erin’s freckled face split into a wide smile. “They aren’t dangerous, are they? More like a stray dog needing attention. Why do you think they’re here? What is this place?”

Slowly, haltingly, the other crystal figures came nearer. They stood near the group of Graymoor residents and otherwise did nothing. It was a mixture of male and female sculptures, and the detail from whoever sculpted them was astounding. Up close, Leda could see individual folds in cloth, and each face had its own distinct personality.

Umur stood away from them, close to the pool’s edge, and peered downward.

“Looks like jewels or gems of some kind,” he said gruffly, but his voice was tinged with amazement. “On the bottom of the pool. Glowing gems, if I’m seeing it clearly.”

“I wish that our jeweler Egerth was here,” Bern Erswood said. In his leather armor and holding a spear of jet black, he looked the most like a warrior of any of them. The well-liked herbalist squinted, trying to see though the shimmering water clearly, then looked up to the group. “Where is Egerth, by the way? Did the fire get him?”

“No,” Ethys Haffoot said, the single word dripping with venom. “Selfish bastard watched Giliam die and closed the door in me face.

“Should– should we go back? Find him?” Veric asked in a small voice, not standing on the pool’s edge but stroking the back of a crystalline figure like one might a cat.

“No,” Ethys replied immediately. “He deserves whatever he gets. Bastard!” And then the young halfling burst into tears.

Leda moved to embrace her, and Ethys melted into the hug. She cried for several minutes, face buried in Leda’s enameled, scaled armor, while the councilwoman patted Ethys’ twin braids.

“I’m sorry about your brother,” she said gently. After a long while, Ethys stilled and sniffled, pulling herself from Leda and nodding in thanks.

Hilda stood next to Umur and the two of them continued to peer into the water. “If those are jewels, shouldn’t someone dive in to get them?” she asked. “Isn’t that what Old Bert said? We could change our fortunes? It doesn’t look so deep.” She looked around at the others helplessly, eyes pleading and clearly not interested in exploring the water herself.

“I can do it,” announced Ethys, wiping her nose with a sleeve. “Even with me foot, I s’pose I’m the best swimmer here.”

“If Veric is right,” Umur grumped. “This smells like a trap t’me. Soon as you dive in, lass, I suspect these statues’ll be a lot less friendly. Or somethin’ else more horrible.”

“It’s worth it, though, yeah?” Ethys said with chin raised proudly. “We can’t have come here for nothin’.” And without further conversation, the halfling handed her tall spear to Erin and dove gracefully into the pool.

Leda tensed, hand on the hilt of her sword. But as Ethys’ body disappeared below the water’s surface, the statues did not move or change their behavior. Neither did the chamber fill with poisonous gas, spikes drop from the ceiling, or any number of other visions that filled Leda’s imagination.

In a dozen heartbeats, Ethys gasped to the surface. She was grinning as she swam leisurely to the pool’s edge, legs like a frog.

“With my knife I got a couple free!” she announced, tossing them to Umur’s feet. “Must be hundreds of them down there. Be right back!”

Umur knelt, grunting with the effort, and plucked one of the jewels from the floor. Hilda picked up the other one.

“Looks valuable, yeah?” Hilda whistled. Umur grunted in assent.

Ethys was indeed a capable swimmer. She stayed below the water far longer than the others likely could have managed, and each time she surfaced she tossed more beautiful gemstones to the floor at their feet. What was initially two jewels became ten, then twenty, and each one a luminescent white. Beautiful.

The halfling trader surfaced, paddling closer to the edge and for once not depositing any treasure to the pile.

“Is that all you can pry loose then?” Hilda asked, marveling at the gems in her meaty palm. “A good haul.”

“Oh, I could get all of ‘em,” Ethys said, and Lena noticed suddenly that the girl looked worried. “Only, I think pryin’ ‘em loose is doin’ somethin’.”

“Doin’ what, then?” Umur frowned deeply, pulling at his beard with one hand, something she’d never seen him do before. His eyes scanned the chamber in alert.

“I think– I think the water’s drainin’ out,” Ethys replied, swiveling her head up to the dwarf. “I’m leavin’ holes on the bottom of the pool.”

As she said the words, Lena realized the truth of it. The pool was already several fingerspans lower than it was when the brave halfling had first jumped in, and there was an almost imperceptible hum of water like a drain in a washtub. She turned to Umur, and the dwarf frowned deeply. “What does it mean, stonemason? Anyone?”

I feel like I’m relying on Intelligence checks a lot, but I think that may be the way of solo play in a dungeon full of traps. In many cases, I can predict how characters might react to a situation. But how logical they’ll be about the information in front of them and how much they’ll see potential consequences… that’s more difficult for me to judge without a group of players.

So, we roll. I’ll again rely on the smarties in the group: Erin, Ethys, and Umur. I’ll make the DC to discern the implications of the draining water 15.

Erin rolls a [3+1] 4.

Ethys rolls a [11+1] 12.

Finally, Umur rolls a [10+1] 11.

Nope. None of the usually logical members of the party quite figure out what’s happening here.

The room looked back at her, blank-faced and shrugging. Certainly, the crystalline figures hadn’t changed their behavior; the translucent creatures huddled near members of their group passively and silently, seemingly unperturbed by either the stolen jewels or draining water.

“I suppose the water leaving is a good thing, then,” Hilda offered hesitantly. “It means it’s easier to reach the gems, right?”

“Alrighty, then,” Ethys said, and disappeared again beneath the surface.

For several more minutes, Ethys did her work. Leda and Bern, meanwhile, joined Umur in scanning for danger, her standing by the dwarf’s side and him wandering around the pool’s perimeter. Erin and Veric spent their time talking and interacting with the crystal figures, to no obvious effect. Hilda, meanwhile, never took her avaricious gaze from the growing pile of jewels at her feet. With wonder, the baker knelt and ran her fingers through the gemstones, counting quietly.

“That’s forty-five of them,” she breathed excitedly. “We’re truly all going to be wealthy, aren’t we?”

At Leda’s side, Umur grunted skeptically.

Bern, meanwhile, had made his way to the northeastern corner of the long, rectangular room, where the second door stood closed.

“Should I open it?” he called in a low, loud whisper.

“Absolutely not!” Umur’s bushy eyebrows climbed his forehead, and he again pulled his beard. “By the gods, man! Once Ethys has the rest of the gems, we leave!”

At this point the water level in the pool was only knee-high. Rather than dive, Ethys stooped down to work her knife. When she had another handful, she straightened to her full height, dripping, to make her way back to the pile at Hilda’s feet.

“Five more,” she grinned. It’s getting easi–”

Her words cut off as a giant THUNK! echoed in the chamber. Ethys cried out as she stumbled. Everyone’s eyes bulged with alarm.

“What was that?” Erin gasped.

“The floor–” Ethys splashed her way, stepping with high knees, to the shallow pool’s edge. “It buckled! I think pulling the gems is making it weaker or–” And then another THUNK!

Hilda was frantically grabbing as many loose gems from the floor as she could. Ethys deftly swung up and grabbed a large piece of folded sailcloth she’d brought, helping collect the shining jewels.

“Hurry, hurry!” Hilda yelled. “Help us!”

Leda and Umur rushed to comply, but Erin and Veric were rushing north to Bern’s side.

“This way!” Bern yelled to them across the chamber. “I’ve opened the door! It’s a stairwell!”

Leda was about to argue that they should escape the way they’d come, but then a sudden vision of that enormous statue, finger outstretched, filled her mind. She cursed.

“Let’s go. Follow Bern,” she urged. Umur helped her up, both wincing in pain from their earlier wounds. A quick glance and she saw that the water was almost gone now, draining quickly out of the holes left by fifty missing jewels. “We should hurry,” she panted.

As they all rushed to the doorway, the crystal figures shambled haltingly, following. They moved at a quarter of even the club-footed Ethys’ speed.

“Should we wait for them?” Erin asked, concern in her eyes.

There was another shudder from the pool’s floor, echoing.

“No,” Leda said with finality. She slammed the wooden door shut behind her.

As Bern had described, a spiraled staircase awaited them all, plunging down into darkness. Something from the pool room crashed and boomed.

They descended.

Portal Under the Stars, Chapter 4

Portal Under the Stars, Chapter 2

Introduction: Portal Under the Stars Playthrough

Portal Under the Stars, Chapter 1

Art by Antal Keninger

Councilwoman Leda Astford stared through the open door in wonder. She could feel the other Graymoor residents pressed beside and behind her in the cramped corridor, but her full attention was fixed ahead.

Old Bert Teahill had claimed that beyond the magical portal lay “jewels and fine steel spears.” There were crystals on the now-open door, dotting the wooden surface in star-like patterns, which she supposed could be mistaken for jewels. And spears?

Yes, there were certainly spears.

In a rectangular room, perhaps ten feet from the open doorway, straight ahead, was another stout, wooden door banded in iron, no crystals upon its surface. Four armored iron statues, two on each side, flanked that door. Each statue depicted a person–human men and women, judging by the physiques, ears, and roughly carved faces–in enameled armor holding a black spear, arm cocked back as if ready to throw. All four deadly spear-tips aimed directly at the open doorway in which Leda stood.

It was Bern Erswood, the herbalist, who pulled her aside forcefully.

“Leda! If those things loose those spears, you’re as dead as Mythey, that’s for sure,” he whispered fiercely, admonishing.

“If it were a trap,” sniffed Egerth Mayhurst, the unpleasant jeweler, panting, flattened himself on the opposite side of the hallway as Leda and Bern. His bald pate gleamed with sweat in the pale blue light. “It would have triggered, yes? Perhaps it was meant for someone who forced the door open before it was unlocked.”

“Well then, by alla’ means,” the dwarf, Umur Pearlhammer, grumbled from behind them. “Go on in and try the next door, yeah?”

“Absolutely not!” Egert blanched.

“I’ll- I’ll do it,” stammered Little Gyles, Bert’s grandson. He planted his pitchfork and pushed forward.

“No, son,” Umur and Bern said almost simultaneously, then chuckled at one another.

“Bravest one here is the wee lad,” Umur shook his head. “Step aside, step aside. We’re here. Might as well see what’s behind that next door since we’ve come alla’ this way.”

“I’ll join you, Master Pearlhammer,” Bern smiled, and the two men stepped into the room, shoulder to shoulder. Undaunted, Little Gyles was right on their heels.

Nothing happened.

Leda exhaled loudly at the same time as several others, not realizing she had been holding her breath.

The adventure text says that the statues “wait for an opportune moment, then suddenly hurl their spears at the characters.” Since I’m controlling the actions of both the traps and the PCs, it seems unfair to choose when that moment occurs. Instead, I’ll leave it up to chance.

I’ll roll a d4 to see how many cohorts of three individuals enter the room before the spears fly. I already have their marching order down on a piece of paper.

I roll a 1. Dang. I like all three of those characters in the lead!

Each statue attacks with a +2 against the PC’s Armor Class of 10 (12 for Bern, who is wearing Mythey’s leather armor), but poor Gyles is in the doorway, so any that target him get a whopping +4. They do 1d8 damage each. I’ll say one spear flies at each PCs, and two at Gyles unless the first one kills him. If so, the fourth spear will fly through the doorway at either Leda or Egerth at a +2 (what? You thought the point-of-view character Leda had plot armor? The dice decide the story, and everyone here is as fragile as a… well, as a villager thrown into a magical, alien portal.). Here goes…

The first spear flies at Umur: (19+2) 21, and hits for 2 damage. Umur has 3 hp… whew!

The next at Bern: (6+2) 8, sails wide of Bern. Whew again!

Now at Gyles: (8+4) 12, which hits for 3 damage. The boy only has 1 hp, sadly. Brutal.

That means the fourth spear targets either Leda (1-3 on a d6) or Egerth (4-6): A 4 is Egerth. It rolls a (7+2) 9 and barely misses.

Suddenly, with a coordinated, metallic THUNK! and a quick whirring noise, the four statues released their spears in unison. Before Leda and the others could even gasp, one had buried itself in Umur’s broad shoulder, another had clattered against the wall behind Bern, and a third had sailed through the doorway, narrowly missing Egerth’s leg and skittering across the stone floor amidst the others. The dwarf cried out in pain and stagged just as the jeweler clawed at the wall backwards, into the pressed crowd.

“No!” Bern yelled, much to Leda’s confusion. And then Little Gyles Teahill, the boy with the strength of a grown man, asked specifically to be there by his grandfather, fell back into her arms. A spear shaft protruded from the middle of his chest.

Gyles didn’t mutter last words or even make a single sound. The sleek, black spear must have killed him instantly. A bright bloom of red blossomed on the front of his homespun shirt, his eyes wide, surprised, and glassy. The pitchfork the boy had been clutching clattered to the floor.

For a long while, there was screaming, crying, consoling, and grief. Leda herself carried Gyles’ body to the end of the corridor and outside, placing him gently on the open ground in the nighttime air. She closed his eyes and said a prayer that Justicia, goddess of justice and mercy, watch over him. She had promised Bert that she would keep the boy safe and had utterly failed. The weight of that failure threatened to crush her into a ball on the cold dirt. Instead, she stood and planted fists on hips, staring at Little Gyles to memorize his every feature. Something cold and hard formed along her spine, keeping the tears at bay.

Bern, meanwhile, tried his best to tend to Umur’s shoulder wound, and managed at least to get the bleeding staunched. The dwarf looked pale and weak now, his voice strained. The others tried to convince the dwarf to turn back and head back to Graymoor, but he set his jaw stubbornly.

“You say me, but we should alla’ go back,” he grumbled. “We’ve found only death here.”

“We keep on,” Leda said decisively, joining them after her time outside. “They’ve taken Little Gyles, these bastards. We go in, we take what we can, and we ensure his death was not in vain.”

The group quickly realized that the black, sleek spears were better weapons than any of them wielded. Bern and Egerth were the first to take theirs, and after some discussion the Haffoot siblings, Ethys and Giliam, gripped the other two. The halfling pair, who made their living trading tea leaves in a small boat up and down the Teawood River, looked particularly small carrying the long, wicked weapons. When offered one, Finasaer Doladris explained that, as an elf, he could not touch the iron of the spears for long, but he did pick up Little Gyles’ wood-shafted pitchfork. Even the scholar, it seemed, had recognized the danger of their situation.

It was Erin Wywood, the sharp-witted minstrel and councilman’s granddaughter, who recognized that the armor on each statue was not part of the sculptures and could be removed. It took what felt like ages, but together they puzzled out how to unstrap the pieces from the unmoving iron and help others don them. Umur looked the most natural in the black metal, even though his dwarven physique forced him to exclude some of the original pieces. Hilda Breadon, the stocky baker, followed Umur’s lead and made hers fit in much the same way. Erin donned a full, scaled suit, which the others thought only fair since she had discovered it in the first place. And, thanks to the particular urging of Umur and Bern, Leda took the final suit of armor herself. She was unaccustomed to wearing anything but simple cloth, though she found the weight somehow comforting.

When everything was sorted, only the haberdasher Veric Cayfield found himself armor- and weapon-less. He smiled brightly and said that he didn’t mind… it was fun to help get the others fitted into armor, and he would feel ridiculous holding a spear.

“I have my scissors if it comes to fighting,” the halfling announced with cheer, patting a pouch at his hip. “But I don’t think it will. This strange place beyond the portal is full of traps, not monsters. What do you think the traps are protecting, do you figure?”

“And who was the principal architect of this demesne?” Finasaer wondered aloud, tapping his lip. “Fascinating.”

At that, the group grew quiet and looked warily at the closed, iron-banded door. After the experience of the last two doors and the talk of traps and mysterious builders, no one seemed especially eager to go first.

Filled with visions of Little Gyles’ glassy-eyed stare, Leda sighed and told the others to stand aside. “From now on, I’ll go first,” she announced. “Everyone keep sharp and have your eyes open. If you see something, speak up.” The others murmured assent, even bitter-faced Egerth. The smell of sour, nervous sweat filled the room. Leda’s gauntleted hand reached out to the door, she exhaled sharply, and tried the latch.

It clicked and the door swung open. Leda winced, expecting pain. Nothing happened.

Beyond the door was a large, square room with marble flooring and polished walls. At the far end of the space was a towering granite statue of a man. It was a detailed work of artistry Leda could hardly fathom, and must have been thirty feet tall. The statue’s eyes looked somehow intelligent, and his barrel-chested body was carved to show him wearing animal hides and necklaces from which dangled numerous amulets and charms. A heavy, stone sword was carved to hang at the man’s hip. Leda thought he looked both like a barbarian warrior and shaman, though from where or when she could not begin to guess.

One arm of the statue was outstretched, its index finger pointed accusingly at the doorway in which Leda stood. After the room with the spear-throwing statues, it was a nerve-wracking pose. She quickly stepped into the spacious room and aside.

“Come on,” she said to the others. “There are more doors here.”

Indeed, the square room had three additional doors, all identical to the one she’d just opened, at each wall’s midpoint. Four sides, four doors, one enormous statue. Otherwise, the room was empty.

Time to see if anyone notices some other features of the room with an Intelligence check, at DC 12. I’ll give the three high-Int PCs and Leda, as the first one in, a chance.

Erin for once misses an Intelligence check at (2+1) 3.  Ethys also rolls a (2+1) 3. Leda rolls a (12-1) 11. Thankfully Umur rolls a (15+1) 16, which makes sense since he’s the stonemason of the town.

As everyone slowly filed in, boots echoing on the marble floor, Umur peered up and around, studying the statue and room’s construction.

“Careful,” he growled. “See those scorch marks on the floor and walls? And look here, this statue weighs tons but there’s grease here on the base where it meets the foundation.”

“What does that mean, master stonemason?” Bern asked nervously.

“It means, methinks, that the statue rotates and shoots fire, is my guess,” he rubbed thick fingers in his beard, frowning. “Though the masonry involved in such a thing, well… it boggles the mind.”

“Traps, not monsters,” Veric said from the back of the group.

At that, everyone froze and looked wide-eyed up at the enormous barbarian shaman, its finger outstretched accusingly at the empty, open doorway.

“What– what do you think activates it?” Erin Wywood whispered. Still no one moved.

Umur continued rubbing at his beard, eyes searching. “Could be pressure plates on the floor, s’pose, but I donna’ see any. Could be openin’ the doors, but it didn’t scorch us when we came in, did it?”

“Eyes open, everyone,” Leda tried to keep her voice from trembling as she called out. This enameled black armor would not help her at all when engulfed in flame. “And let’s not clump together.”

For the next several minutes, the ten Graymoor residents carefully, carefully spread out and searched the room. Other than discovering more evidence of fire to support Umur’s theory, they found nothing.

“Maybe… it’s broken?” Giliam Haffoot, the brother, asked, rubbing sweat from his brow with a sleeve. It was well known that his sister Ethys was the brains of their boating operation and he was there for the labor. “Been here for years, innit?”

“We have no idea how long,” Bern mused. “We could be standing in another plane of existence, outside of time, even on the surface of that distant Empty Star. That statue could be of the god who created everything, ever, all the stars and worlds. Who knows? This place is a wonder.”

“A miracle,” Erin the minstrel breathed, eyes wide.

“Let’s assume,” Umur murmured through teeth still clenched in pain. “That it will roast anyone who tries to open a door. What do we do?”

They all contemplated.

“We could open all three doors at the same time,” Ethys Haffoot tried, planting the tall spear on the stone to lean on it. “Maybe the statue will get confused, then.”

“Or only cooks one of you, at the least, while the others escape,” Egerth mused. Leda frowned that he said “you” and not “us.”

“And then what? The rest of us run to a door where it ain’t pointin’?” Giliam asked, his scrubby face scrunched in thought. “Sort of a shit plan, though, innit?”

“Do you have a better one, Master Haffoot?” Bern asked. The halfling seemed surprised to be asked and looked absolutely dumbfounded how to respond. Neither he nor the others could come up with an alternate suggestion on how to proceed.

With much apprehension, then, they assembled themselves. Leda would open the western door (none of them knew if it were truly west, but it helped to have a description, so they pretended that the door from which they’d come was south), Umur the northern one, and Giliam surprisingly volunteered for the eastern door. The others of them stood near one of the doors, Bern and Finasaer with Leda, Erin and Hilda with Umur, and finally Egerth and the two other halflings joining Giliam.

“Ready?” Leda called out, placing her hand on the handle of the western door. As she did so, a whirring noise began building within the room. “Now!”

I tried to puzzle out who would go with whom here. Bern the herbalist has been protective of Leda, and the elf Finasaer has seemed to gravitate to her side as well. Erin, one of the smartest of the group, will follow one of the other smarties in Umur, and Hilda is a fellow craftsperson (as much as bakers and stonemasons are similar) so would feel some kinship with the dwarf. Ethys would clearly stick near her brother, and it makes sense that Veric would want to be near the other halflings. Egerth, meanwhile, calculates that a group of four means he is less likely to be targeted by the statue than if he were in a group of three.

Egerth’s logic, it turns out, dooms his group. The statue targets the largest group first, and whoever is opening the door. It shoots out a gout of flame, and rolls a whopping (19+6) 25, for 5 damage. Giliam only has 2 hp, so he’s dead.

Into combat initiative we go… The PCs are lucky and most rolled higher than the barbarian-shaman statue.

In surprising synchronicity, the three figures at the door clasped the latches and opened their respective doors. As Umur had predicted, the immense stone figure rotated on its base with a sound of grinding rock so deep that they all felt it in their bellies more than heard it. Ethys and Veric shouted warnings, but too late. A fountain of fire erupted from the statue’s fingertip, engulfing poor Giliam Haffoot. The man shrieked and rolled on the stone as he died.

Veric, the haberdasher with neither weapon nor armor, did not pause. Quicker than Leda knew the man could move, he sprinted on short legs away from the flaming Giliam and towards Umur, diving through the open northern door. Umur, wide-eyed, followed the halfling, with Hilda right on his heels.

“In! In!” Bern shouted over the screams, and he pushed himself and Leda through the western doorway.

Egerth Mayhust, Graymoor’s jeweler, stumbled past the burning, shrieking Giliam Haffoot and into the eastern opening. Then, much to Ethys Haffoot’s utter astonishment, slammed the door closed behind him, right in her face.

There are now three villagers remaining when it is the statue’s turn: Finasaer the elf at the west, Erin Wywood the minstrel at the north, and Ethys Haffoot (facing a closed door) to the east. Since there is no group larger than the rest, we’ll roll randomly who the statue targets next. I’ll roll a d6 (1-2, 3-4, 5-6) and get a 2.

The statue rolls a (14+6) 20, which easily hits the elf. He takes 3 fire damage, leaving him with 1 hp. He is also burning, though, and will take an additional 1d6 of damage, killing him, unless he can succeed at a DC10 Reflex save. I’ll roll that now: Finasaer gets a 6.

The room seemed to shudder as the thirty-foot stone figure pivoted in its base, finger swiveling to the sage Finasaer Doladris, the only elf in Graymoor’s memory.

“No, wait!” he held up his hands, dropping Little Gyles’ pitchfork, before the WHOOSH! of fire jetted from the fingertip to surround him.

Through the open doorway, Leda could see the elf rolling around in his once-sparkling robes, frantically trying to extinguish the flames. Yet within moments he was nothing more than a burning pile, like Giliam Haffoot across the room.

A Haffoot family trait, the siblings had long told the Graymoor residents, was a single club foot. Both Giliam and Ethys had one, lending credence to the claim. Across the wide room, Leda and Ethys locked eyes and the councilwoman could almost feel her mind working out whether she could, on one lame foot, make the distance between them. The quick-witted halfling apparently decided she couldn’t, and ran in a galloping trot to the north using the spear as a makeshift crutch, out of Leda’s view.

“Miss Astford!” a small voice called out clearly from the direction in which Ethys had run. It was Veric, the haberdasher.

“Yes! I’m here! Me and Bern!”

“Quick! Run to us! So we’re not split!”

She turned to Bern at her side and the two shared a quick nod. As one they threw themselves out, leaping over the charred, flaming lump of Finasaer and towards the north. The room shuddered and rumbled as the statue began tracking their movement. She did not even pause to take in the surroundings behind the western door before exiting it.

Damn this armor! Leda thought wildly. Bern, in Mythey’s leathers, sprinted past her, around the statue’s base and into the northern opening. Leda stumbled, feeling clumsy with the weight of the enameled, black metal strapped everywhere. Ahead she could see a group of huddled faces, urging her on. Veric and Umur and Erin, all reaching out to her from the doorway as she panted towards them, each step heavy.

The scale mail that Leda (and Umur, Erin, and Hilda) is wearing decreases her movement by 5’ per round. So while Bern can dash from the eastern hallway to the northern in one turn, Leda cannot. She gets right to the north entrance, and the statue gets to make a strike against her. The only hope is that Leda’s AC is higher than everyone else’s, +4 for the armor and +2 for her high Agility. So her AC is 16, meaning the statue has just over a 50% chance of hitting. Oh boy.

The statue rolls a (13+6) 19, hitting. I literally winced when I rolled the damage, but it’s only 2! That’s half of Leda’s hit points, and now she needs to pass a DC 10 Reflex save. Now, scale mail also provides a “Check Penalty” for a variety of activities involving dexterity. I can’t find in the rulebook if this pertains to Reflex saves, though. A quick web search tells me that, while slightly disputed, no. Leda’s +2 Reflex save bonus is intact. So she has to only roll an 8 or better…

She rolls a 12. Yes! Whew.

Joseph Goodman, author of Dungeon Crawl Classics and the adventure The Portal Under the Stars has said that the statue room is incredibly deadly, able to wipe out whole parties of Level-0 characters if they aren’t careful. He’s not kidding.

“Come on!” Umur growled from mere feet away. “Run, lass!”

The others dove for cover as the sound of the flames fountained from behind her. Her back and legs seared with heat and she jumped with her last bit of strength towards the now-empty doorway. Leda landed painfully, with a clatter of armor, and suddenly multiple hands were all over her, rolling her and helping to extinguish the flames. Someone slammed the door shut, leaving only the sound of several people panting and the smell of burnt hair hanging in the air.

 For several moments, Leda gasped for breath and lay her cheek on the stone floor beneath her. Her father’s longsword, never used once in her life, jammed painfully beneath her hip. Indeed, everything hurt, especially her back and legs. But she was alive, thank the gods. She squeezed both eyes shut and thought of Little Gyles.

Eventually, she rolled to her knees and, grimacing, stood. Umur sat gasping, his back against the door. She could see the dwarf’s bandaged shoulder through the gaps in his armor and it was soaked in fresh blood. Bern, Erin, Hilda, Ethys, and Veric all sat or stood nearby, looking stunned and out of breath. Seven of them, where they had once been twelve.

It was only in glancing at her companions that she first became aware of the shimmering, ethereal light in the room. She gasped as she looked beyond their group.

“What– what is this place?” she whispered.

Portal Under the Stars, Chapter 3

Portal Under the Stars, Chapter 1

Introduction: Portal Under the Stars Playthrough

Bert Teahill lay under a pile of threadbare blankets, shivering and groaning. He was little more than sun-shriveled skin stretched over bones, his gray hair plastered to his skull with sweat. The cramped room–barely large enough for the small bed, a footlocker, and five figures crowding round–smelled strongly of urine and death.

The old man coughed weakly. “Is everyone here then?” he asked in a voice dry as summer leaves.

“We’re all here, Bert,” sniffed Councilman Wywood, nodding. He glanced at the other three town council members, each doing their best to not be there. Wywood was the oldest and most tenured council member and often spoke first. Councilmen Wayford and Seford weren’t much younger but still deferred to him. Indeed, the three men had held their positions so long that they seemed to share more unsaid with their glances than spoken aloud. For example, right then Seford, small eyes in a round face with hanging jowls, looked to Wywood imploringly as if to say When we can leave and get back to our brandy?

The fourth council member, Councilwoman Leda Astford, was the newest member and everything the others were not. Young, brave, and earnest, she interrupted the silent glances from the other three.

“What is it you wanted to tell us, Bert? We’ve assembled the full town council and your grandson, just as you asked,” she said, laying a hand on his shoulder. Councilman Wywood, for his part, pursed his lips and sniffed derisively. The other two old men nodded at his annoyance, silently agreeing Who does she think she is, taking charge?

Bert Teahill whimpered and stirred feebly beneath his covers. For a moment he stilled, and the room grew silent. Then the old man sucked in a breath and opened his eyes wide, searching around the room. He coughed.

“Good, good. Listen to me, all of you. The star… the stars have come back as when I was a boy.”

“What are you saying, Bert?” Wywood grumbled. The man’s wrinkled face shone with sweat. “What is this about stars?”

“Let him speak, please,” Leda intoned. The other three council members traded offended, frowning glances.

“When I was a boy,” Bert continued, wheezing. “Must be fifty winters since. I used to watch the stars, notice how they formed pictures in the sky. Back then there was a particular star. Called it the Empty Star, a blue, twinkling thing, all on its own with no others around it. As it rose directly overhead, a… a door opened. Shimmering blue, at the old stone mound. Swear to all the gods I saw it! A bright blue door, and on the other side jewels and fine steel spears aplenty.”

“What is he suggesting?” Councilman Wayford scoffed at his brethren. He was stooped with age, and his voice was high and wheedling, as if he were always whining. “We’re all here for a child’s fable?”

“A portal!” Bert said, his voice suddenly strong. A liver-spotted hand emerged from the blankets and gripped Leda’s wrist. He looked up at her imploringly. “All my life I held this secret, wishing I’d gone in. Could have changed my fortune, maybe my whole family’s fortunes. Maybe the whole town’s! And every night since I’ve watched the stars. The pictures in the sky all changed. The Empty Star never came back.

“But now it’s all back, you hear me? The Empty Star is rising! Tomorrow night, sure as my grave! I feel it in my very soul, you hear me? Tomorrow night is the night! Someone has to go to the old stone mound to see the portal. Go in, this time. Change Graymoor’s fortunes! There’s treasure there, and glory. Don’t let it pass by this time, please. Don’t live a life of regret like an old, dying farmer. Please. Please…” And just as suddenly as his old, vital self had returned, Bert Teahill deflated and lay panting.

The three aged councilmen said nothing, eyes darting furtively between them in silent discussion. Leda Astford, meanwhile, patted the farmer’s shoulder gently.

“Okay, Bert,” she said. “We hear you. We’ll go to the old stone mound tomorrow night. If there’s a portal, we’ll get those jewels and spears.”

“Take– take Gyles,” Bert whispered and almost imperceptibly nodded.

With a rustle of cloth and creaking floorboards, the four town council members turned to look at the boy. Little Gyles Teahill was Bert’s grandson, who townsfolk said was strong as a man at ten years of age. He had taken over running the Teahill farm with his father’s recent leg injury. Little Gyles looked up at them all with a mix of wide-eyed surprise from the attention and an iron-like determination.

Councilman Wywood snorted derisively and turned his back on the boy. Wayford and Seford followed suit. The three shuffled out of the room, muttering about “waste of time” and “fool’s errand” and “preposterous” and “let’s go have some brandy.”

Leda Astford, meanwhile, met the boy’s eyes. She smiled, conjuring a confused grin from the boy. As the others left, Leda gently squeezed Bert’s thin shoulder and nodded. “I’ll go myself tomorrow night, Bert. And I’ll take Little Gyles and keep him safe, don’t you worry. We’ll see this door of yours. And if it’s there, well, sure as anything we’ll go in.”

Bert Teahill lay still beneath his blankets, eyes closed and barely breathing. Had the man heard her words?

They would never know.


Councilwoman Leda Astford’s breath steamed in the cold night air. Spring had come to Graymoor, but Winter still had its grip on the dark hours. She shivered beneath her traveling cloak, pulling it tighter. She was a healthy woman in the prime of her life but had always suffered in the cold. Her hands and feet especially.

She looked around. A rumor as big as this one had spread, and a large pack volunteered to wander into the darkness in search of Old Bert Teahill’s flight of fancy. Puffs of breath dotted the shadows as the dozen of them waited. It was a clear night and the path to the old stone mound was well-known, so none had felt the need to light a torch.

“How long are we going to stay out here before we decide the old fool is crazy?” complained Egerth Mayhurst. He was Graymoor’s jeweler, a shrewd and unpleasant man of middle years, thin and bald, with a carefully sculpted beard along his jawline. Leda assumed he was here to lay claim to any gemstones they found, if a magic portal did exist. Grimly, she realized that he may also have been sent here to report back to the other council members.

“Calm yourself, Egerth,” a deep, resonant voice intoned. It was Bern Erswood, the town’s herbalist and likely the most well-liked of the group. Bern’s remedies rarely did what he claimed, but the barrel-chested, bearded man made you feel good about taking them all the same. “That blue star that Leda called the Empty Star… It’s still climbing in the sky, and it’ll soon be directly over the old stones. I’m not saying anything will happen then, mind you, but I reckon we’ll find out soon.”

The others mumbled their assent and Egerth Mayhurst snapped his jaw shut, arms folded. Leda looked down on Little Gyles, who stood near her with a pitchfork held like he was defending a castle from invasion. The boy had stayed at her side the entire trek, and she couldn’t decide if he wanted her protection or saw himself as the protector. Either way, she smiled and gripped his firm, muscled shoulder.

“You hear that? Shouldn’t be long now,” she said reassuringly. The boy pursed his lips and nodded.

 She looked at the tall figure to her other side. Finasaer Doladris was the only elf anyone in Graymoor had ever met, and his long, pointed ears and long, fine hair made for a distinctive profile even in the darkness. His robes seemed to shimmer in the starlight.

“What do you think, Mister Doladris? Will a portal appear?”

“Mm,” he murmured noncommittally. “Difficult to ascertain, councilwoman. Yet whether folk fable or astrological miracle, it’s a fine entry to my documentation of the local populace. Quite intriguing all the same.”

Leda didn’t reply. The elf had been a genuine curiosity to all of Graymoor since he appeared out of the woodland a year ago claiming to be doing research, but the way he spoke made it difficult to hold a conversation.  

The old stone mounds were named such because, amidst a marshy woodland, several large slabs of rock lay against one another randomly like the discarded toys of giants. No other such stones could be found within miles of Graymoor, and against all reason these immense stones never collected moss, bird nests, or spiders. Indeed, no vegetation of any kind grew near the stones. Naturally, most locals avoided the place, and it was a frequent object of childhood dares. If Bert was indeed making up a story, the old stone mound was the perfect location for it.

Suddenly, where three blocks leaned haphazardly together to form an upright rectangle, a shimmering door of light appeared. One moment the space was empty and then it wasn’t, without a sound. The dozen Graymoor residents gasped. Little Gyles took an involuntary step closer to Leda.

As she moved forward, the boy at her hip, Leda saw that it was not so much a door as the opening of a corridor. Where before there had been a person-sized gap, there now stretched a long hallway, limned by blue light.

“There’s nothing on the other side!” Veric Cayfield, one of the three halflings present, called out from the shadows. Like the Haffoot siblings who had also joined their party, Veric had migrated to Graymoor from the distant halfling village of Teatown. He had become the town’s haberdasher years ago, because there was nothing Veric loved so much as clothes and sewing. Indeed, he proudly exclaimed to anyone who would listen that the reason he loved Graymoor is because humans allow him the opportunity to use even more fabric for his craft. Leda had no idea why he’d joined their expedition tonight. Or the Haffoots, for that matter.

A handful of others had wandered to the other side of the three stones.

“Sure enough!” Bern the herbalist exclaimed. “I can see you all clearly through the gap on this side. Can you see me?”

“We can’t, Bern,” Leda called out. “For us it’s a hallway.”

The sound of a sword being pulled from its scabbard rang out. Mythey Wyebury, who Leda always thought was trouble, moved forward to the shimmering corridor’s opening. “Well?” he said. “So the old man was speaking true. Let’s go find these jewels and magical weapons, eh?”

And then he stepped into the portal.

Hesitantly, a small group followed, each clutching the closest thing to a weapon they could find at home. Umur Pearlhammer, the dwarven stonesmith and Graymoor’s most tenured resident, gripped a hammer. Erin Wywood, the councilman’s granddaughter, had a long knife in her shaking hand. Even Hilda Breadon, the town’s baker extraordinaire, gripped a rolling pin in her meaty fist.

“Do we go in now?” Little Gyles asked, looking up at her. For such a strapping lad, his voice betrayed his young age.

“I suppose we do,” Leda answered with wonder, and the two moved towards the opening.

The corridor before them ran about twenty feet, and she was surprised to find that a flagstone floor ran between the portal opening and a large door. Otherwise, the place was bare walls, the same sort of stone as the old stone mound. But it was the flagstones that unnerved her most, for it spoke of someone crafting this place instead of it simply… being.

Mythey and several others were already at the door.

“Locked!” he shouted back at them, clearly frustrated. Veric, Bern, and the others who had walked around the stones were now all at the portal’s entrance behind Leda, peering in.

Leda strode closer, and the door itself left no question as to someone crafting this place. It was wooden and iron-banded. Jewels or crystals of some sort were embedded in the wood, creating star-shapes that twinkled in the blue light.

So far this has all been narrative and no game mechanics. But here we go! Time to roll some dice! Will anyone in the party understand what’s going on? I’ll give characters with an Intelligence of 13 or more (Erin Wywood, Ethys Haffoot, and Umur Pearlhammer) a chance to puzzle it out at a Difficulty Class of 14. Basically, they have to hit a DC 14 on a d20 roll, plus their Intelligence modifier (which for all of them is +1).

Erin’s roll (14+1): 15

Ethys: (11+1): 12

Umur: (2+1): 3

“I think,” Erin Wywood started to say, her voice cracking. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I think we need to wait. Bern said the star wasn’t directly overhead yet, yeah?”

Leda blinked, surprised. She knew Erin to be the closest thing Graymoor had to a minstrel, always in public spaces or the tavern singing songs about the gods and the importance of rooting out Chaos from the world. She never thought of her as quick-witted. Leda was suddenly glad that the councilman’s granddaughter had joined them.

“Screw that!” Mythey spat from the front of the group. Before anyone could stop him, he put his hand on the door’s handle and bashed forward with his shoulder. Mythey was an ass and bully, but he was also a hulking man and perhaps the strongest of them assembled.

This is a bit of a sacrificial lamb move on my part, but I don’t want to assume everyone will listen to the town minstrel’s wisdom, and Mythey is a greedy troublemaker whose best stat is Strength. It makes sense to me that he would try and barge in impatiently. It’s also an opportunity to establish the stakes of this little adventure.

The door can be forced with a DC 15 Strength check. Mythey rolls a (11+1) 12, so fails.

Attempting to force the door triggers a trap, however. Before I describe it, Mythey will take 1d8 damage, which he can halve with a DC 10 Reflex check (he rolls a 3). Sort of a moot point since he only has 1 hit point, but he takes 5 damage and is killed instantly.

It was a solid blow, but the sturdy door held. As the man struck it, the jewels on its surface flashed a bright blue that left all of them within the corridor dazzled. Leda blinked to regain her vision, and as she did so, those nearest the door cried out.

“He’s dead!” Hilda the baker shrieked. “Burned to a crisp! Gods help us!”

Acrid smoke smelling of charred flesh began drifting through the corridor towards the open air. Leda gagged and rushed towards the exit along with the others. She glanced back and saw the blackened lump that was once Mythey Wybury.

As the now-eleven of them huddled outside, under the night sky, near the shimmering portal entrance, several people tried talking at once, some in hysterical, high-pitched tones and others in calm, reassuring ones. The effect was that no one heard a single thing the others were saying, leading to a chaotic babble.

“Enough!” Umur Pearlhammer shouted. At once they all quieted. The dwarf’s weathered face, bushy brows over a bulbous nose, regarded them. “Mythey was a fool and trouble besides, we all knew it. First chance he had to take whatever wealth and steal it, he would have. I donna’ like that he died, mind, but there’s a lesson there for all’a us.”

The others nodded and sniffled and gripped their weapons.

“We gotta take care, now,” the dwarf continued in his gruff, commanding voice. “Think an’ act together, yeah? Miss Wywood has the right of it, methinks. What say you, Bern? The Empty Star still tracking overhead?”

The herbalist scanned the sky. “I would say so, yes. Maybe an hour or two and it should be directly overhead.”

Umur nodded once. “Then we wait. Meantime, who can help me haul that fool’s body out so we can bring it back when we’re done?”

For a moment, no one said a word. Then, at Leda’s side, Little Gyles Teahill raised his hand. “I can help, master stonemason sir.”

Umur nodded again. “Right enough. Come along lad.”

The next hour or two passed slowly. Mythey’s body was badly burned and uncomfortable to see, like he’d been struck by lightning. But he had a short sword in his grip and was the only one of them wearing anything resembling armor. After the trapped door, such things seemed more important than ever. Umur offered to take the sword, since no one else seemed comfortable using it. The leather cuirass, however, would never have fit the stocky dwarf. Indeed, only Bern the herbalist, Egerth the jeweler, and Finasaer the researcher were anywhere near the man’s size. The elf held up his hands helplessly, saying he was not a man of arms. That left the two human men, and, after some discussion, Bern had the least distaste for wearing a dead man’s singed leathers. With the help of the others, they pulled the items from Mythey’s corpse and helped Bern with the straps. Umur swung the sword, away from the group, and grunted in satisfaction as he slid it back into the scabbard that now hung from his hip.

“Something’s happening!” one of the Haffoots, the sister, Ethys, exclaimed, pointing a small finger towards the glowing hallway.

Bern looked skyward, drumming a finger on his now leather-clad belly. “Mm. Looks like it’s directly overhead, sure enough.”

“What is it, Ethys?” Leda asked as the group edged near the stones. It was an unnecessary question. Anyone with a view down the long corridor could see what was happening.

The jewel-encrusted, heavy door had swung open.

Portal Under the Stars, Chapter 2

Introduction: “Portal Under the Stars” Playthrough

As I mentioned in my last entry, I have recently been pouring over the Dungeon Crawl Classics rulebook by Goodman Games. Each of its 500+ pages is a delight. DCC is a game that a) I really, desperately want to try out, and b) for a variety of reasons (time, number of games already in the queue, my group’s interests, etc.) is unlikely something I can play soon with my weekly online group of players. I also mentioned solo play, and not-coincidentally received the Mythic GM Emulator as a Christmas gift (thanks mom!) last year. So, although superhero games are my first love, right now, in this moment in time, I’m going to try my hand at playing my way through an introductory DCC adventure.

One of the quirks of DCC as a system is “The Funnel,” which is a way of describing how players form new adventuring parties. The basic idea is this: Each player rolls up multiple pre-adventurers, called Level 0 characters. These are normal townsfolk living in a dangerous and mysterious world, ready to defend their livelihood but without the equipment or skills to do so effectively. Then, The Funnel puts these poor 10-15 souls in a brief, deadly scenario. Whoever survives the scenario creates the pool of potential Level 1 adventurers, and off you go.

From what I can gather, The Funnel is a barrier for many “modern” players to jump into DCC. Yet there are also countless testimonials for why a Level-0 Funnel is vital for a new group; The Funnel not only introduces beginners to the rules in a digestible way, but it also emphasizes the tone and tenets of the game world, helps players fall in love with their characters, and creates memorable stories the group will forever remember. Besides, it’s such a different way to start adventuring than most modern games, I am fascinated to try it out. I was immediately sold when reading the rulebook:

Woo! Sounds awesome.

There are a lot of DCC Level 0 adventures, and by far the most popular and highly-touted one is Sailors on the Starless Sea. I own SotSS and initially decided that I wanted it to be the object of my playthrough. What I concluded, however, is that I’d rather not have a public playthrough of such a beloved Funnel, which might ruin it for others (including my own group, if I convince them to try out DCC). Instead, I decided to focus on the Funnel provided in the core rulebook, The Portal Under the Stars.

The Cast of Characters

Before I can dive into my first Funnel, however, I need a large party of townspeople. Simulating four players with three characters each, I rolled up an ambitious TWELVE townsfolk. Below is a quick sketch of each, which is all of the backstory I want right now. There’s no need to create elaborate backstories for characters that might die in the first session, plus the spirit of DCC is to find the characters through playing them. It’s fun to wonder which of these poor saps might eventually become honest-to-goodness adventurers.

I’ll also provide the “stats block” for each character. Right now, don’t worry about understanding the gobbledygook of abbreviations and numbers… I’ll briefly explain mechanics as I go. Suffice it to say, if you’ve played any edition of Dungeons & Dragons, Pathfinder, or another d20-based roleplaying game, DCC will be pretty easy to figure out.


Bern Erswood. Graymoor’s herbalist is well-liked and seen as a kind man eager to help his neighbors, even if his remedies rarely have any medicinal benefits. Bern lives on the village’s outskirts, where he has the most access to nature and can cultivate his gardens. 

Bern Erswood. Level 0 Herbalist. STR 9, AGL 11, STA 13, PER 16, INT 12, LCK 11. Init +0; Atk club +0 melee (1d4); AC 10; HP 5; MV 30′; Act 1d20; SV Fort +1, Ref +0, Will +2; LNG Common; AL Neutral; Equipment: small hammer, herbs, 19cp.

Councilwoman Leda Astford. Leda is one of four councilmembers elected by Graymoor’s populace, and the most recent addition to the Town Council (taking her mother’s seat when she perished from illness). She is young, popular with town residents, and perhaps a touch naïve. Her three councilmember peers—all old, grizzled men who’ve held their seats for years—push Leda to do any and all hard work.

Councilwoman Leda Astford. Level 0 Noble. STR 8, AGL 16, STA 12, PER 15, INT 8, LCK 7. Init +2; Atk longsword -1 melee (1d8-1); AC 10; HP 4; MV 30′; Act 1d20; SV Fort +0; Ref +2; Will +1; LNG Common; AL Lawful; Equipment: 10′ pole, gold ring, 41cp. Note: Born with a clover-shaped birthmark. (-1 to find secret doors)

Egerth Mayhurst. The town’s only jeweler, Egerth has lived in Graymoor since he was a youth and yet still considers himself better than other locals, who he calls “backwater fools.” Selfish and ambitious, he has remained single well into his middle age and is more than a little bitter about it.

Egerth Mayhurst. Level 0 Jeweler. STR 13, AGL 10, STA 10, PER 9, INT 8, LCK 9. Init +0; Atk dagger +1 melee (1d4+1); AC 10; HP 2; MV 30′; Act 1d20; SV Fort +0, Ref +0, Will -1; LNG Common; AL Chaotic; Equipment: holy water (1 vial), gem, 24cp.

Erin Wywood. The granddaughter of Councilmen Wywood, Erin is the closest thing Graymoor has to a bard. She spends her time in the town’s tavern playing her ukelele. Erin should be more popular than she is, due mostly to her devout religiosity and fervor, which creeps into all of her interactions and songs.

Erin Wywood. Level 0 Minstrel. STR 13, AGL 11, STA 13, PER 8, INT 14, LCK 10. Init +0; Atk dagger +1 melee (1d4+1); AC 10; HP 5; MV 30′; Act 1d20; SV Fort +1, Ref +0, Will -1; LNG Common, Halfling; AL Lawful; Equipment: holy symbol, ukelele, 32cp.

Ethys Haffoot. Ethys and her younger brother Giliam are responsible for the trading barge up and down the Teawood River, which connects Graymoor to the neighboring settlements (one of which is the halfling village of Teatown, Ethys and Giliam’s birthplace). She has the family affliction of a club foot, but is otherwise hardy and unquestionably the brains of her family business.

Ethys Haffoot. Level 0 Halfling Mariner. STR 11, AGL 6, STA 12, PER 9, INT 15, LCK 12. Init -1; Atk knife +0 melee (1d4); AC 10; HP 2; MV 20′; Act 1d20; SV Fort +0, Ref -1, Will +0; LNG Common, Halfling, Elven; AL Lawful; Equipment: 10′ pole, sailcloth, 36cp. Infravision.

Finasaer Doladris. Master Finasaer arrived in Graymoor ten years ago from the woods, explaining to the Town Council that he was writing a book on provincial towns in the region. He is the only elf in Graymoor, and a town curiosity in every way. For his part, “Fin” (as the locals call him) is friendly but aloof, and his elevated vocabulary often alienates him from others.

Finasaer Doladris. Level 0 Elven Sage. STR 13, AGL 10, STA 14, PER 9, INT 11, LCK 14. Init +0; Atk dagger +1 melee (1d4+2); AC 10; HP 4; MV 30′; Act 1d20; SV Fort +1, Ref +0, Will +0; LNG Common, Elven; AL Neutral; Equipment: backpack, parchment and quill pen, 14cp. Note: Born on a full moon as a pack of wolves howled. (+1 to attack and damage for starting weapon). Sensitive to iron. Infravision.

Giliam Haffoot. Giliam and his older sister Ethys are responsible for the trading barge up and down the Teawood River, which connects Graymoor to the neighboring settlements (one of which is the halfling village of Teatown, Ethys and Giliam’s birthplace). He has the family affliction of a club foot, but is otherwise hardy and hard-working.

Giliam Haffoot. Level 0 Halfling Mariner. STR 12, AGL 7, STA 13, PER 12, INT 8, LCK 9. Init -1; Atk knife +0 melee (1d4); AC 10; HP 2; MV 20′; Act 1d20; SV Fort +1, Ref -1, Will +0; LNG Common, Halfling; AL Lawful; Equipment: grappling hook, sailcloth, 25cp. Infravision.

Gyles Teahill. “Little” Gyles Teahill is the son of Ephes Teahill, Graymoor’s most prominent rutabaga farmer. Ephes recently had an accident that has left him bedridden, so Gyles has taken up the majority of his father’s work. He is small, but strong for his size and everyone in the town is either overtly or secretly rooting for the Teahills to have a successful year because of Little Gyles’ heart.

Gyles Teahill. Level 0 Farmer (rutabaga). STR 12, AGL 6, STA 5, PER 12, INT 9, LCK 9. Init -1; Atk pitchfork +0 melee (1d8); AC 10; HP 1; MV 30′; Act 1d20; SV Fort -2, Ref -1, Will +0; LNG Common; AL Lawful; Equipment: hen, rations, 25cp.

Hilda Breadon. Graymoor’s only commercial baker, Hilda is famous for her pies, cakes, and cookies of remarkable variety. She would be more successful if she didn’t eat twice as much of her wares as she sells, but she is a woman of great passions and appetites.

Hilda Breadon. Level 0 Baker. STR 9, AGL 11, STA 18, PER 9, INT 11, LCK 11. Init +0; Atk rolling pin +0 melee (1d4); AC 10; HP 7; MV 30′; Act 1d20; SV Fort +3, Ref +0, Will +0; LNG Common; AL Lawful; Equipment: chain, flour, 26cp.

Mythey Wyebury. Mythey grew up in Graymoor as a ne’er do well, always in trouble and running from his bad choices. Unbeknownst to most of the town, he and a couple of his friends have recently been plaguing the roads as outlaws, stealing from travelers to fuel their tavern revelry. His most closely guarded secret, however, is that he has a sickness that he believes will kill him any day now.

Mythey Wyebury. Level 0 Outlaw. STR 15, AGL 11, STA 6, PER 13, INT 9, LCK 7. Init +0; Atk shortsword +1 melee (1d6); AC 12 (leather armor); HP 1; MV 30′; Act 1d20; SV Fort -1, Ref +0, Will +1; LNG Common; AL Chaotic; Equipment: small sack, 29cp. Note: Born as a bear visited the village. (-1 to Melee damage rolls)

Umur Pearlhammer. No one in Graymoor knows how old Umur is, but they know he’s outlived anyone else’s memory. He’s still hearty enough to be the town’s primary stonemason, though, and despite his dwarven gruffness he is one of Graymoor’s most well-liked residents.

Umur Pearlhammer. Level 0 Dwarven Stonesmith. STR 9, AGL 9, STA 9, PER 14, INT 13, LCK 9. Init +0; Atk hammer +0 melee (1d3); AC 10; HP 3; MV 20′; Act 1d20; SV Fort +0, Ref +0, Will +1; LNG Common, Dwarven, Giantish; AL Lawful; Equipment: fine stone, lantern, 26cp. Infravision.

Veric Cayfield. Like the Haffoot siblings, Veric grew up in the halfling village of Teatown, but moved to Graymoor several years ago to begin his life as a haberdasher. No one loves clothes as much as Veric, and what he loves about humans is how much more fabric he gets to use to make them.

Veric Cayfield. Level 0 Halfling Haberdasher. STR 13, AGL 16, STA 12, PER 9, INT 11, LCK 12. Init +2; Atk scissors +1 melee (1d4+1); AC 10; HP 1; MV 20′; Act 1d20; SV Fort +0, Ref +2, Will +0; LNG Common, Halfling; AL Lawful; Equipment: fine suits (3), flask, 19cp. Infravision.

And there we go. Have any bets on survivors or early deaths? And yes… several of them have 1 or 2 hit points. Yikes.

Next time… the adventure begins!

-jms

Portal Under the Stars, Chapter 1

Gaming at Fifty One

Today is a (rather long) State of the Union address on my gaming life.

As best as I can remember, I started playing tabletop role-playing games (or TTRPGs) in Fifth Grade, in 1983, which would make me ten years old. It was one of those phenomena where a friend–though I can’t remember who Gamer Zero was–received a boxed set as a Christmas gift and we all dove in. Soon we all asked our parents to supply us with books, dice, graph paper, and pencils. Throughout the Spring, we played a mix of Basic Dungeons & Dragons and Advanced Dungeons & Dragons, not understanding that they were two largely different games. It didn’t really matter, though… what we actually played was some rules-light, make-it-up-as-you-go game that didn’t even try to involve the many complex tables in the books we didn’t understand. Usually our first-level characters wielded something like a +5 Sword of Dragon Slaying that could cut through anything.

As we transitioned to middle school, a subset of that original group began playing anything we could get our hands on. The biggest boon to our fledgling group was my buddy Russell’s older brother Jim, who was happy to run our games for us. I’m not sure this is an exhaustive list, but I remember playing a lot of Tunnels & Trolls, Gamma World, Car Wars, Top Secret, Marvel Superheroes, Villains & Vigilantes, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TMNT), Heroes Unlimited, Superworld, Champions, GURPS, and, yes, a good helping of D&D (this time using the rules and their published modules). Just seeing the covers of those games triggers a flood of nostalgic make-believe happiness. Those were fun times.

I had a new group of friends in high school and quickly introduced them to the hobby. We almost exclusively played superhero games, primarily Villains & Vigilantes and Champions, though we sprinkled in some TMNT, Golden Heroes, DC Heroes, and Super Villains as well. My good friend Ted ran us through a particularly memorable V&V campaign, which clued me into how cool a longform set of adventures with the same characters can be.

We all scattered to different colleges, and I met new TTRPG enthusiasts. Throughout my time at Occidental College, I ran a monthly Champions campaign, even drawing the “comic covers” for each session we played as keepsakes. At that point, Champions was my only game, and I was deep into the HERO System and its math-heavy fun.

Then it was off to graduate school, where I met both my wife and a little game called Magic: the Gathering, which would be the object of my obsession for years. Then my working career started to take off, I had kids, we moved around, and, as these things do, TTRPGs faded into the background of my life for nearly two decades. I remember trying to organize a D&D adventure with my wife and some friends once or twice during that time, but it never stuck. During that time, I bought-and-sold the D&D 3E and 3.5 rulebooks without really doing anything with them.

In 2018, I took a year off work to recoup, then in 2019 started a job in San Francisco that, unlike most of my previous roles, didn’t require heavy travel. Around that time, I started listening to a ton of podcasts, including the Glass Cannon Podcast. The TTRPG bug started inching its way into my brain, and I began to seek out my local game stores to see if there were people with whom I could play. After some false starts with Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition and Pathfinder at local stores, I found a group that was playing D&D 5E and were happy to have me join. They were interested in switching to Pathfinder 2nd Edition once it was released, and eventually I GMed us through the game’s first 1-20 Adventure Path, Age of Ashes over three years. During those years we took occasional detours, experimenting with Blades in the Dark, Symbaroum, Call of Cthulhu, Savage Worlds, and, at my urging, even returned to supers for a Sentinel Comics RPG one-shot.

That gaming group was my first experience with serious personality clashes in TTRPG groups. I ended up feeling picked on by a person there who was close friends with two other members, and after trying-and-failing multiple times to talk it out, my best recourse was to leave. Suffice it to say, it was the only real negative chapter I’ve had with TTRPGs, which have otherwise been a source of unqualified joy in my life.

For months I was genuinely wounded by my abandoned group. Thankfully the global pandemic had introduced me to virtual tabletops and online games. Eventually I found a couple fun virtual tables, including a delightful online group of Europeans that has met weekly now for almost two years. We mostly play PF2E, but have rotated GMs and done several sessions of Call of Cthulhu, Warhammer Fantasy, and most recently Mörk Borg. On our “really want to play list” are Vaesen, Dragonbane, Traveller, Forbidden Lands, Dungeon World, Lancer, Savage Worlds, and countless others.

It’s fair to say that, at age fifty-one, I’m in the midst of my Second TTRPG Renaissance. At the same time, the whole TTRPG industry is going through its own Renaissance, with intriguing new games popping up seemingly every week. Not surprisingly, my game shelf has exploded. I now own most of the games listed above, plus a metric ton of others I’ve Kickstarted, found in bargain bins or eBay auctions, or used birthday gift certificates on. I’ve even sold old game books and given my college-age son my D&D 5E collection to make room for them in my house.

There are two major differences between my TTRPG life as a gray-bearded geezer compared to my young, wispy-mustachioed self. The most obvious one is that it’s more difficult to find a group with which to play. Throughout middle school, high school, and college, I rolled dice with my core group of friends. Most of our interests were shared and we spent a ton of time together… easy squeezy. These days, in contrast, the vast majority of my contemporaries have neither the time for, nor interest in, TTRPGs. While online platforms make the pool of potential players wider, these online groups are ephemeral. It’s clear to me that if one of my current group members (all of whom are twenty years younger than me) has kids, takes a new job, or moves, it probably spells the end of the group… that sort of “life event disruption” can happen with any group, but somehow in-person groups feel stickier because the investment feels somehow deeper. Meanwhile, I’ve tried to think of how to conjure another reliable, fun in-person group and failed to come up with a solution.

The second difference is in the type of games I’m playing now versus in my youth. If it’s not obvious from the banner image on this blog, my first love is superheroes and comic books, and at one point in college set my sights on becoming a comic book illustrator. As my TTRPG life deepened as a young person, it skewed heavily–and eventually exclusively–to superhero games. Yet all of my groups in the last six years want to play fantasy or investigative horror games. That’s okay, because I can get excited about those games. But none of the groups I’ve encountered want to play superhero make-believe.

The feeling of being an odd-shaped puzzle piece continued recently as I started to discover the “Old School Renaissance” (or OSR) movement within TTRPGs. These games are built by people who love early Dungeons & Dragons and want to recreate the feel of those games for modern audiences. I’ve looked at OSR-type games like Old School Essentials, Knave, Ironsworn, and have absolutely fallen in love with Dungeon Crawl Classics. I’ve also rescued a bunch of my old D&D modules from my mother’s garage, joined the Ancient Dungeons & Dragons Players Facebook group, and have been bingeing the Vintage RPG podcast. Yet when I tell my online group that I’d love to run them through a DCC beginner adventure to test out the system, I get the same lukewarm response that I received when I tried to get my in-person group to play a superhero game. They’ll probably roll with it because they like and trust me, but there isn’t an itch there they need to scratch.

All of this has me reflecting deeply on the years ahead. I’ll certainly keep seeking out online groups and brainstorming how to form an in-person group, because these are games that are most fun when they’re social and played with friends. Just last week, for example, I jumped online with a bunch of strangers to learn to play Dragonbane, a game I own and have considered running for my regular group. I’ll also keep collecting games, because I find real pleasure in reading the books cover-to-cover and seeing them on my shelf. We truly are living in a glorious period of TTRPG innovation, and the sheer diversity and volume of options is awesome.

But I’m beginning to accept that a) I may never have a long, stable group of gaming friends again, even as an empty nester nearing retirement where my time is beginning to be more spacious, and b) the number of games I own and want to play far outweighs the number of hours I’ll be able to play with friends. I surely won’t ever get a chance to play everything, much less everything beckoning to me.

The final addition to my reflections is the rise of solo play in TTRPGs. Solo play has always been a feature of some TTRPGs dating back to the 1970s, but thanks to the global pandemic it has a lot more support now than ever. Many games, like Ironsworn and Vaesen, have solo play built into the base game as an option. Meanwhile, tools like the Mythic GM Emulator allow for being able to play any game solo, without the need for a gaming group. Indeed, one of my recent podcast obsessions is Tale of the Manticore, a great audio production of a guy solo-playing an old-school D&D system.  

Maybe the answer is to begin solo play on the games no one but me wants to play? Would I enjoy that, or is the fun of TTRPGs really tied to a group? I’ll probably dip my toe into these strange, solo-play waters soon, while continuing my epic quest to find more time with awesome groups like my current online one. My enthusiasm for TTRPGs is as high as that ten-year-old kid pretending to swing his overpowered sword around. How best to channel that enthusiasm, though, is something I’m still contemplating.

If you have any thoughts about the TTRPG hobby these days, or ways you’ve tackled the hurdles I’ve outlined, I’d love to hear it. Comment below or shoot me an email at jaycms@yahoo.com.

Enthusiastically adventuring,

-jms

My First Pathfinder Infinite Product, a novella!

Hello hello! I haven’t been posting here in awhile for good reasons… Each time I’ve thought to write a blog post or some superhero-RPG exploration, I’ve instead wanted to work on a novella-length fantasy writing project for Pathfinder Infinite. I’m excited to share that I’ve now finished the piece, and it is available for purchase:

https://www.pathfinderinfinite.com/product/444610/Age-of-Ashes-Vol1–The-Councils-Chosen?affiliate_id=1607929

This is my first time trying to publish something like this, and as far as I know the first time someone has tried to turn a Paizo adventure into a longform story. It’s been a labor of love, and I’m very appreciative of my awesome wife Sarah and dear friend Kathy for being willing readers of the early drafts.

I’ve already started Volume 2, which I’m guessing will be finished sometime early in 2024. Fun fun!

Goings Ons and What Comes Next

Hoo nelly… it’s been a looooong time since I’ve written anything here. The reasons for my lack of activity are threefold.

First, a lot of what I was posting here was cutscene blurbs from my weekly, in-person Pathfinder 2nd Edition Age of Ashes campaign. That group has broken up indefinitely and the campaign ended (at level 18 of 20… so close to the end!), a result of clashing personalities made worse by trying to make a podcast together. It’s a bummer, but in-person gaming groups are a rare and precious thing, really only disbanding because of either conflict or life-events (moving or having kids, usually). We had a fun three-year run, and I’m thankful for those hundreds of hours of memories.

Second, I started a new job last Fall. It’s an incredibly different job than I’ve had before, and has demanded, among other things, a major shift in schedule. It’s taken me awhile to figure out how to layer in online games to replace Age of Ashes alongside a brand new kind of work, plus establish modified exercise, family, and friend routines. On top of that, my seventeen-year old daughter is in the heart of college recruiting for soccer, which is taking up a ton of time (exciting! but stressful. but exciting! but stressful).

Finally, I actually HAVE been writing regularly, on a novella that I’m planning to publish on the Pathfinder Infinite site later this Spring. I’m genuinely excited about this project and you better believe I’ll link to it here when I’m done — I just crossed 33k words this morning and have the final proof of the cover art. I’m guessing that I’ll have a complete first draft in a month or so, and then spend a few weeks getting feedback and editing before I hit “Publish.” But I haven’t wanted to spoil any of the prose here.

Right before I took my hiatus, I had just started a series of deep-dives into various superhero tabletop role-playing games (you can find my Golden Heroes exploration here, and the Aberrant one here). These two installments were great fun to write. Unfortunately, while I’m still obsessed with my list of every superhero TTRPG ever published*, given everything I’ve said above, those deep-dives are rather more work than I have the bandwidth for right now.

But! Obsession is obsession, whether I have an in-person group, or life is full, or even whether I’m currently writing a long-form story in a different genre. Superhero TTRPG lists must be explored, people. I don’t make the rules, I just live by them.

So, very soon, I’ll begin a different sort of series based on my list. I’m going to just focus on modern superhero games (and I’ll define “modern” in the first installment), and zero in exclusively on the character-creation process of each game.

Why just modern games? Primarily because, while there is a lot of nostalgia woven into my love of superhero role-playing games, some of the older systems are truly obtuse and clunky. Thinking about writing about those older systems sounds slightly painful, whereas the chance to familiarize myself with newer games is exciting. Plus, the list is just too danged long; narrowing my focus to the past decade or so of games helps give me a manageable group of games to tackle.

Why just the character-creation process? Because it is my belief that one of the distinct features of superhero gaming is that making characters is at least half the fun. In other genres like fantasy, sci-fi, and horror, making characters is awesome, but playing those characters is considerably more awesome. It’s the unfolding story and those surprising die-rolls that keep me coming back again and again. Meanwhile, playing superheroes in stories where literally anything can happen (aliens! mutants! robots! time travel! martial arts! magic! other realities! spycraft!) is great. Honestly, it would be a dream come true to have a local group of friends who wanted to play a long campaign of supers. But, oddly, superheroes is the only genre where some of my fondest memories are making characters instead of the game sessions themselves. Writing about making new superheroes for new game systems sounds like a blast, even if I don’t get to play them immediately (or ever).

I’m not sure when this new series will kick off, exactly, but getting an idea like this one in my head usually means my fingers start moving of their own volition. So… sometime soon.

Fun fun!

* As always, if you know of a game not on the list please let me know! Literally every time I do even a small bit of research I discover new games.

An Aberrant Brain

Oh my goodness, I did not intend to have so much time pass between posts. A big work development plus two major trips (a third next week!) plus my first bout of Covid have all kept me away from my laptop.

And yet I had a lot of fun pouring over one of my favorite games of my childhood, Golden Heroes. It was a nice validation of what I want to write about these days: the long list of superhero tabletop roleplaying games (hereafter TTRPGs) that rarely get enough attention. I’m going to continue jumping around the list of games, spotlighting ones I either love or that intrigue me.

Since I started in the 1980s, let’s fast forward a decade. Honestly, the 1990s isn’t a particularly interesting span of superhero games. It’s the time when Champions and, to a lesser extent, GURPS Supers, took up most of the oxygen in the room. Goodness knows I spent my TTRPG time in the ‘90s running two different Champions campaigns and loving the crunchiness that would become the HERO System.

But right at the end of the decade entered a game that I’ve owned for more than twenty years yet barely played: Aberrant. My curiosity in this game abounds. I picked it up at a time in my life when I had just moved to the San Francisco Bay Area, was deep, deeeeeeeep into Magic: the Gathering, and without a dedicated roleplaying group. By the time I was back into TTRPGs there were newer, fresher games to play. As a result, it’s one of those handful of games I own that I’ve played only in a couple of one-shots.

The more I’ve explored Aberrant as part of this blog, though, the more curious I’ve become (and also slightly poorer, since I bought the next two versions to compare them). Let’s see why…

A few weeks ago, I only had three books. Hm…

A Brief History of Aberrant

I couldn’t find a rich, narrative history of Aberrant like I did Golden Heroes, so here is the story as I understand it. Apologies in advance for anything I’m somehow misinterpreting or not seeing clearly.

White Wolf Publishing was a new and powerhouse European game publisher in the 1990s. White Wolf was most successful and famous with its World of Darkness games, but it also produced some fantasy TTRPGs and, right at the end of the decade, the trio of games now known as the Trinity Continuum.

The Trinity Continuum was ambitious because it was essentially three different games interconnected by the same basic mechanics and fundamental lore: Adventure! was an action-pulp, alternate-1920’s game. Aberrant was a near-future superhero game. And Æon was a far-future sci-fi game. All three shared, essentially, one universe with each taking place on a different part of that universe’s timeline. It’s a cool idea, and one that has followed each game through various editions. Although this post is focused on Aberrant, each time the game appeared it has been joined by Adventure!, Æon, and a variety of Trinity-spanning books.

This is speculation on my part, but in looking at White Wolf’s projects I suspect that they saw the success of their World of Darkness games and thought the future was in taking these properties into videogames. They merged with an Icelandic videogame company in 2006 and were acquired by another in 2015. Shortly after that, a scandal led to the dissolution of White Wolf as an independent entity.  

Whatever the case, after three years and quite a few supplements, Trinity generally and Aberrant specifically in 2002 ceased publication. The games tried a d20 reboot in 2004 (because pretty much everyone at the time was seeing if they could make d20 work, sort of like 5E now), but they never found their footing. There is shockingly little content I could find on this d20 foray.

Then, for fifteen years, Aberrant faded into the background as a cool setting with a sometimes-unwieldy game behind it. Eventually Onyx Path Publishing, founded by a White Wolf alum, obtained the tabletop publishing rights to a lot of White Wolf’s old games, including Aberrant. After a recently successful Kickstarter, a new version of Aberrant was born using Onyx’s Storypath System. For these reasons, sometimes this new Aberrant is called “Second Edition” and sometimes “Storypath Edition.” Almost everyone calls the 1999 game “First Edition.” (And again, no one refers to the d20 version as anything, really.)

I was able to find this 2019 interview with the most recent version’s core authors, Steve Kenson and Ian Watson. There isn’t much history-telling to fill in the blanks above, but it’s a great introduction to the broad brushstrokes of the Trinity Continuum generally and a deep look at what excited the authors about this newest incarnation of Aberrant. Check it out!

It’s amazing to think that the original game only lasted three years. As far as I know, people are still playing Aberrant campaigns from First Edition, and it’s still some people’s favorite “crunchy” superhero game. And hey, it spawned a reboot twenty years later that is already seeing a ton of new supplements. What makes it so intriguing, you ask?

What’s Great About Aberrant

The single best thing about Aberrant is the one thing that has endured across three distinct game systems: the setting.

It occurs to me that superhero TTRPGs fundamentally need to decide how much to invest in worldbuilding a setting that explains – and potentially sets the boundaries for – superpowers. Most games just assume that it’s a comic book reality, in which radioactive insects, mystical artifacts, aliens, time travel, interdimensional demons, and giant robots just exist, and that people with amazing powers (often bestowed by some combination of the above) choose sides and battle with their fists and eye lasers.

Aberrant does deep worldbuilding. Indeed, the first HUNDRED pages of their 285-page core book in 1999 are dedicated to fleshing out how superpowers came to be and how “novas” – the people with these powers – exist within society. Those pages are also the only ones in color, full of rich, creative entries detailing news reports, science journals, celebrity interviews and, yes, comic book pages. The art throughout is consistently excellent and evocative of the “Iron Age” of comics, clearly a core inspiration for the tone and flavor of Aberrant. In the newest version, the setting takes up even more space (over half of the roughly 300 pages) and is still the centerpiece of drawing you into the game.

I won’t try and do a full review of the setting here. Suffice it to say, Aberrant takes place about ten years in the future after an international space station blew up and irradiated the globe, spawning the rise of novas. The authors have created a richly textured story as to how the world embraced these thousands of superpowered individuals, full of factions, internet celebrity, private companies, and varied government interventions. Playing Aberrant means becoming facile in terms like quantum flux (and quantum tech and, honestly, quantum everything), The Utopia Society, eufiber, the Æon Society, The Teragen, OpNet, the XWF, Mazarin-Rashoud Coils, and yes… Aberrants (both a slur term for novas and a formal organization).

Getting steeped in Aberrant’s setting is as daunting as learning the game’s mechanics, and in fact creates a sort of dual barrier to entry for new players. The First Edition book didn’t help matters by making the setting a series of wildly creative but unorganized snapshots, something very cool when you spend time with it but incredibly difficult to skim or reference later. The newest edition, thankfully, does a bit of indexing and exposition, but it’s still dense stuff.

But just like any deep worldbuilding, the density and depth of the setting are also the things that fans of the game are most passionate about. The world of Aberrant is evocative and full of intrigue. Reading those first hundred pages of the original book or the setting chapters of the new one, it’s impossible not to have your mind explode with campaign and character ideas, very much like modern Blades in the Dark or Symbaroum, but even more globally expansive.

Aberrant’s setting strives to take a realistic view of how the world would react to superpowers. It’s also, as I said, steeped in the Iron Age of comic books, full of the gray morality and grittiness of the 1990s. There is a very real sense that power corrupts. It’s even baked into the mechanics, as the thing most likely to take your character out of a campaign isn’t death – it’s the tainted transformation from modern god to monster. There are rules in the most recent edition for adapting Aberrant to different tones, but I’m a big believer in playing to a system or setting’s strengths. Aberrant is about the costs and perils of having superpowers as much or more as the glory. It’s a game about tough choices in a complicated world.

Here’s a terrific summary from a very good 2019 review of the original game:

“You are placed as central figures participating in a tragedy played out in slow motion. All Novas are doomed to be tainted by their powers in time, despite any good intentions. No matter how hard they try, they will lose that which makes them human. It’s inevitable. It’s a devastating bit of storytelling, and creates a setting rife with narrative rabbit holes to fall down. I haven’t found a superpowered RPG that comes close to this level of depth in its world building.”

For a detailed look at all things Aberrant, check out the OpCast podcast – a podcast completely dedicated to the Trinity Continuum. There is an episode specifically looking at the First Edition of the game, and a five-episode breakdown of the new Storypath book. Not surprisingly, these episodes slant heavily towards the setting.

Let’s Talk Mechanics (And Lots and Lots of Dice)

The strength and richness of Aberrant’s setting are, I believe, what has engendered so much nostalgic love for the game and the reason why it’s respawned into a new edition. It’s certainly the reason I kept cracking open the original 1999 rulebook over the years. But I’ve made it almost to the end of this write-up without mentioning the mechanics. So how does Aberrant actually play?

The 1999 edition was based on White Wolf’s Storyteller system, which uses d10s exclusively. At its core the system is elegant: You create a dice pool when trying something, and every 7 or better on a d10 is a success. The more successes, the better the result. Aberrant built on this core idea by adding “Mega” (or superpowered) attributes and abilities, which count two successes for a 7-9 and THREE for a 10, resulting in much splashier results.

Although elegant, the original Aberrant broke down in how big the dice pools became. It wasn’t uncommon to have twenty or even thirty d10s in a pool. Although rolling dice is fun, it’s apparently possible to have too much of a good thing. Add in that a 1 on a d10 is a “Botch” and those big dice pools start getting weird. Most longtime players of the First Edition shake their head at how out-of-control silly the game experience could be, especially as the power level increased. As one player commented in a Reddit forum: “The idea [of Aberrant] is fantastic, but you will need to houserule the crap out of it.”

Unlike Golden Heroes, character creation is time consuming and complicated, using a point-buy system that isn’t hard to grasp but does involve a lot of steps. It’s nowhere near as crunchy as Champions (which, as I said, was the dominant superhero game when the first edition of Aberrant came out), but it’s not easy either. The good news is that the system allows for pretty much any superpowered concept, but it’s also a process that a GM is going to have to supervise.

I mentioned earlier the inevitable decline from god to monster inherent in Aberrant’s system. This mechanically in the 1999 game is called “Taint” (which, yes, everyone made fun of then and still do today) – basically, the more Taint your character accrues the less human they become. I really like the idea of this system, but in practice it was a little clunky and surprisingly easy to avoid, a better concept than execution.

So along comes the Storypath system from Onyx Path Publishing, an updated version of White Wolf’s Storyteller system. It’s still d10 based, still with Mega attributes and a point-buy system to create any and all powers. Dice pools are less unwieldy. Taint becomes “Flux” and is more flexible (and less narratively inevitable). And the rulebook is definitely, definitely better organized and thus easier to navigate than the First Edition one. For a good overall review of the new Aberrant compared the original, check out this write-up.

Alas, though: I haven’t yet been able to play the newest edition of Aberrant. It remains on my “super interested to try it out” pile. So consider today’s post a nostalgic reminiscence of the 1999 game more than an analysis of the update. Still, my interest is piqued. Here’s hoping the power of my nostalgia and the strength of the overall Trinity setting is one that pulls you into checking it out. And if you do… drop me a line and let me know how it goes!

Next time I’ll jump forward another decade into the 2000s and pluck some fun-but-lesser-known game out of the pile. Until then, uh… may your Summer be Taint-free and all of your experiences Mega? I don’t know, man. I didn’t really have a closing in mind.

My Golden Heroes Brain

Starting in early adolescence and continuing through college, I mostly played Villains & Vigilantes and Champions (shhh… yes, I’m old), and someday soon I’m sure to have a lot to say about these two beauties. They are two of my all-time favorite games in any genre.

Amidst epic, mask-clad campaigns with friends, my broader exploration of superhero tabletop role-playing games took root. Of the “other” (meaning, not V&V or Champions) superhero games from my teens and twenties, my favorite is a little-known British game called Golden Heroes.

A Quick Golden Heroes History Lesson

The year is 1984. The original Apple Macintosh computer runs its first television commercial. Los Angeles hosts the Summer Olympics. Cyndi Lauper and Wham! are dominating the radio. And a skinny Jay Salazar, just starting middle school, convinces his grandmother during a regular visit to their local gaming store to buy him a new superhero game just hitting the shelves.

It’s amazing that Golden Heroes and I found each other that 1984 day, back at Wargames West in Albuquerque. The game didn’t stay in print long, particularly in the United States. I’m the only person I know across my many gaming groups who ever owned it. Heck, I probably bought one of the few copies in the state of New Mexico.

Why was its tenure so short? Years earlier and across the pond, authors Simon Burley and Peter Haines were university students and friends in England, inspired by Chris Claremont and John Byrne at the height of their powers. They self-published copies of their game and sent it to major publishers hoping for a deal. Check out how the original looked!

The original Golden Heroes, pre-Games Workshop

It was Games Workshop, a London-based publisher now famous for the Warhammer miniatures game, that showed interest. Although few people associate the two, Golden Heroes became GH’s first-ever homegrown game.

Unfortunately, Games Workshop lost access to the Marvel Comics license they had intended to use for Golden Heroes, a license that would instead get used for TSR’s famous FASERIP-system Marvel Superheroes game. Marvel Superheroes beat Golden Heroes’ release by weeks and soaked up consumers’ attention, even though many people – me included – thought Golden Heroes was the superior game. A year later, having published two adventures (Legacy of Eagles and Queen Victoria and The Holy Grail), a Supervisor’s (GM) kit, and some embarrassingly bad miniatures, Games Workshop quietly closed the doors on Golden Heroes.  

For a lovely look into Simon Burley’s stories of the game’s founding and rules, check out the Grognard RPG Files podcast (Part 1 and Part 2). There are a ton of fun stories there, including Simon and Peter going to conventions with their new game, stirring interest by simulating famous battles from the comic books like the X-Men vs. Shi’ar Imperial Guard fight in Claremont/Byrne’s Dark Phoenix saga.

Despite its lack of commercial success, I love this game. My good fortune to discover Golden Heroes led to countless hours of joy for me during those painfully awkward middle school years. I’ve carried the books with me for forty years and counting even though I have yet to play it for more than a single session with friends.

Well-traveled and well-loved

What’s Great About Golden Heroes

Before I get into the game, I want to say something about the art. Art matters in any TTRPG, but for me it matters even more in a genre meant to simulate a visual medium like comic books. Golden Heroes showcases art from several different artists, and the quality varies. But the good far outweighs the bad, and I am nostalgically giddy about the stuff from Alan Davis, Mike Collins, Brett Ewins, and Jon Glentoran.

As I’ve spent the last week reading reviews of Golden Heroes (for two stand-outs, check out here and here), I’m relieved to see that what everyone loves most about the game is character creation. Those reviews make me feel significantly less self-conscious about the memories of me and my friend Ted rolling up character after character after character, then drawing them into our sketchbooks and going back for more. I sort-of-almost-remember actually playing the game, but not in any way that stands out. What I vividly remember is the joy of making characters… all told, probably more than a hundred of them over the years.

Character creation is fully random in Golden Heroes, which on the surface sounds like a nightmare. You roll on four Attributes: Ego, Strength, Dexterity, and Vigour (yay for British spelling!). You roll on how much damage your character can take and dish out. You of course roll up your superpowers. Finally, you roll on the character’s Background, or life before becoming a hero.

That series of random rolls can potentially lead to a mess, but there’s a safeguard built into the system. Golden Heroes gets around the goofiness of rolling up someone with incredible Strength, low Vigour, a Chameleon Ability, Replication, Teleport, and a Vehicle by making a player rationalize how these particular powers hang together. From the Players Book:

“This is where you must use your skill and imagination as a comic-book writer. You must concoct, possibly with the help of the [GM}, a plausible background for your character which explains how they got their Superpowers. You should attempt to explain as many of your character’s powers as possible, for which the [GM] deems are inconsistent are forfeited.”

p.9

You can trade off power rolls as you go for upgrades to already-rolled powers or for an Advantageous Background (like being a Bruce Wayne / Tony Stark billionaire). So while character creation is indeed random, it gives the player a ton of latitude to sculpt those initial rolls into something that’s fun to play.

Simply put, character creation in Golden Heroes is quick and easy, full of flavor and guided by narrative. At the end of this post I’ll roll one up to demonstrate.

Golden Heroes’ “let’s remember that we’re all comic-book writers” vibe permeates the rules of play as well. There’s a heavy focus on combat and set pieces, dividing combat actions into Frames. Different activities cost different amounts of Frames per round (very similar to the modern Pathfinder Second Edition, actually), giving the action a delightfully comic book feel.

Combat can get overly crunchy, unfortunately. For example, there are different rules to resolve a Parry versus a Dodge, and they use different dice (and to be honest, Parry rules are just bonkers). Tables rule everything, as was common in the 1980s. My guess is that, if I ever got into a regular campaign, I’d eventually simplify some of the mechanics to keep everything moving and as fluid as character creation. Even amidst the crunch, though, there are some cool ideas. In addition to Frames-as-actions, you have two hit-point pools: Hit-to-Coma (HTC) and Hit-to-Kill (HTK), and this distinction helps simulate the fact that comic books can toggle between characters beating each other to a pulp but never dying and life-or-death stakes.

Between combats, characters get a certain amount of downtime phases, which is also easy to picture making their way into comics books. And in a truly narrative RPG innovation, every campaign in Golden Heroes has a set of Campaign Ratings that are built collaboratively between players and Supervisor (the GM) that fluctuate based on the adventures the characters undertake and their role-playing. Campaign Ratings also get awfully crunchy, but it’s clear that despite the complexity the goal here is to have a dynamic world and story built off individual character backstories. Supervisors reward players for being heroes instead of murder hobos or powermongers, and these rewards help them achieve more success in the campaign world. It’s a cool rewards system that veers away from individual level-progression and, again, mimics what superheroes experience within comic books.

If you’re intrigued by the game but either don’t want to track down expensive, hard-to-find books or play outdated crunchy tables of the ‘80s, Simon Burley has gone on to update the system as Squadron UK. It’s easy enough to pick up on DriveThruRPG. Because I can’t help myself, I’ve ordered a copy and may dive into it in a future blog post.

Let’s Roll Some Dice!

As I’ve said, the glory of Golden Heroes is the character creation. In fact, there is an absolutely wonderful section in the Players Book that dedicates three full pages to showing the “now you interpret your powers” system in action – using one set of powers rolls to flesh out eight (!) in-depth character ideas. Let’s walk through the steps and see what happens.

For the four core attributes, it’s old school D&D style: Roll 3d6 and that’s your score. Alright [rattles dice in hand]. Here we go.

Ego is a measure of my character’s willpower. I roll 5,4,3: 12.

Strength is, um… how strong my character is. I roll, 3,5,1: 9.

Dexterity measures manual dexterity rather than physical agility. I roll 5,4,3 again: 12.

Vigour (ha!) is a measure of how fit and healthy my character is. I roll 6,2,2: 10.

Wow. My character is pretty much the definition of average.

Hits to Coma (HTC) is the amount of damage my character can take before passing out. I roll 1d6 for each point of Vigour, or 10d6. Fun! I roll 1,1,2,3,4,1,5,2,6,5: 30. Blech. My character will be Staggered at 1/5 of my HTC, or 6, and will be Stunned at 1/10, or 3.

Hits to Kill (HTK) is the amount of damage my character can take before dying. 10d6 again yields 6,6,4,1,3,2,3,6,3,1: 34. My character will be Hospitalized at 3 HTK.

Movement is how far my character can move in a Frame, measured in metres (ha!). The calculation here is (Strength + Dexterity + Vigour) / 6. My character’s movement is 5.

Now comes the fun part.

I get a number of power rolls equal to 2d6 halved + 4 (why not 1d6+4? I don’t know, man. I suppose the idea is that rounding up gives you slightly more rolls on average). Since I’m rolling mediocre today, of course I roll 7, rounded up is EIGHT power roles. Wheeee!

Each Power Roll can be used to either:

  • Determine an Advantageous Background
  • Roll on the Superpower Generation table
  • Upgrade a Superpower already rolled
  • Enhance Superpowers and skills (used for campaigns)

Roll 1-2: 55 = Psi Powers, which the table tells me immediately costs an additional power roll. Psi Powers are COOL and makes a ton of sense for someone with decidedly average stats.

Roll 3: 56 = Psi Powers! This automatically bumps me from Grade 1 Psi Powers to Grade 2, something I would have probably done anyway. Neat.

There’s a subsystem in Psi Powers to determine my powers. I get 15 + 1d10 Psi Points and I roll a 9. 24 Psi Points, which is a resource pool for using my psychic powers. What psychic powers? Let’s roll four d10s and find out:

  • Psi roll 1: 6. Telekinesis. This is my Specialty Power (meaning it costs less Psi Points to use than the others).
  • Psi roll 2: 4. Precognition
  • Psi roll 3: 5. Psi Blast
  • Psi roll 4: 8. Telepathy

Roll 4: 02 = Agility, which as I said is different from Dexterity. This means my character can leap 4 metres in a Frame, swing at 2-4 times my Movement, gain a bonus to dodge, and can do extra damage by swinging or leaping into combat.

Roll 5: 33 = Health. Another table here, which I roll 5 on a d6: Toxin Immunity. My character will be immune to poison.

Roll 6: 20 = Energy Attack. Another table, which I roll 6 on a d10: Vibration. My character can emit destructive vibrations.

Roll 7: 24 = Flight, which is what it says it is and doesn’t require another roll.

Roll 8 is my Advantageous Background roll (which the rules allow me to pick, but I’m embracing full randomness): Previous Training, which allows me to add 2 to any Attribute or 1 to two Attributes and should represent some sort of elite training.

My character’s Superpower rolls:

  1. Psi Powers (Grade 2 – Telekinesis, Precognition, Psi Blast, Telepathy)
  2. Agility
  3. Health (Toxin Immunity)
  4. Energy Attack (Vibration)
  5. Flight
  6. Background: Previous Training

Now comes the time to rationalize and make sense of these rolls. As the Players Guide says, I need to come up with an origin story and narrative that ties everything I’ve rolled together, forfeiting what doesn’t make sense.

Can I get eight distinct concepts out of this list? Gauntlet thrown!

Concept 1: Hand of Gaia

Maasa Abebe is a young, talented archeologist (Previous Training, +2 Ego). At a dig she discovers the literal heart of the world, an artifact linked to the primordial goddess Gaia. Thereafter she is a living avatar of the goddess, able to tap into the ancient soul of the Earth itself to move objects, read others’ thoughts, and even unleash localized earthquakes. Her connection to her goddess makes her immune to natural toxins and preternaturally light on her feet.

I can’t really make Flight makes sense here but kept all others.

Concept 2: Psion

Cassidy O’Toole is in the prime of her life and a doctoral student of cognitive psychology (Previous Training, +2 Ego) when she discovers her terminal illness. Her wealthy parents sign her up for an experimental set of treatments to find a cure. The bad news is that the treatment facility is destroyed during a super-powered battle, with Cassidy the only survivor. The good news is that the chemicals and supervillain powers combine to cure Cassidy and leave her with superior health and psychic powers. She is adopted by the superhero group responsible, becoming an invaluable member.

I don’t really see a room for Energy Attack here (Flight, I’m saying, is a result of Telekinesis on herself).

Concept 3: Quake

Adam Johnson is a dedicated, albeit mediocre gymnast (Previous Training, +1 Strength, +1 Vigour, also accounts for Agility) and geology student at UC Berkeley. During a particularly humiliating competition, Adam’s mutant powers manifest and his rage causes an earthquake to level the gymnasium. Horrified, he retreats from school and vows to understand these new abilities before returning to society. He is quickly found by a group of mutants who train him in his vibration-themed powers (including flight and a metabolism so high it’s resistant to toxins) and give him purpose.

In this version, I’m dropping the highly valuable Psi Powers and would likely request that the Supervisor allow me to upgrade Energy Attack to at least Grade 2 to compensate.

Concept 4: Nomad

No’madd is the sole survivor of an alien spacecraft that has crashed on Earth. In a desperate gambit to save their species from a dying planet, No’madd’s people rigorously trained countless explorers (Previous Training, +2 Ego) and sent them to the far reaches of the galaxy. Now stranded here and utterly alone, No’madd has vowed to ingratiate themself to the local populace and improve life on Earth as much as possible, always hoping more of their people will find their way here.

Aliens always feel a little like cheating in Golden Heroes because I can basically keep everything and say it’s innate. I’d probably ask the Supervisor to switch from Vibration on my Energy Attack to Cosmic.

Concept 5: Prana

Sunita Singh was born and raised in a monastic order (Previous Training, +2 Ego) where she quickly became a prodigy of the mindfulness and inward-centered teachings. At fifteen years old, she had surpassed all masters of the order. At twenty, she went into a meditation so deep that she did not eat or sleep for years. At twenty-five, finally, she awakens with a glowing third eye on her forehead and manifests a broad array of psychic abilities. She has perfect control of her body, full of grace and immune to toxins. Sunita, without a word, flies up and away from the monastery, full of intent to change the world.

I’m keeping everything here except the Energy Attack.

Concept 6: Noir

Christopher Knight was a hardboiled detective (Previous Training, +2 Ego) in Chicago in the 1920s, killed during a case investigating a crime boss. Now he has reappeared, spectral but solid enough to interact with the world. Why now? What is he here to do? Chris doesn’t know, but he picks up the trail of that cold case, intent on finding out.

The Psi Powers, Flight, and Health are all easy enough to fold into “dead guy powers,” and the Agility is decently noir-style pulp detective. I’d work with the Supervisor to say that his Energy Attack is his spectral pistol, using Vibration as an energy type but saying it’s basically ghost bullets.

Concept 7: ATHENA-5.5

Nine years after Dr. Dara Melamed’s death, the ATHENA prototype artificial intelligence she created finishes building itself a physical shell (stretching here, but I’m saying self-educating itself for years has led to Previous Training, +2 Ego). The smooth, silver globe rises from Dr. Melamed’s secret laboratory and drifts out into the city. (It’s the story of Ultron from Marvel Comics, but a creation that strives for making the world better through collaboration with its fellow populace.)

I don’t think it makes sense to keep Agility, since a floating globe won’t really be leaping or swinging anywhere. Everything else makes sense, though I would talk to the Supervisor about making the Energy Attack Sonic or Laser instead of Vibration, which is more what I picture.

Concept 8: Medusa

Deep-sea diver (Previous Training, +2 Vigour) Sophie Kim discovers a new, bizarre species of jellyfish, an amazing and groundbreaking find. Unfortunately, it stings her and sends her into a coma for nearly two years, and the jellyfish is never seen again. When she awakes in a government science facility, Sophie’s body has turned translucent like a jellyfish, her hair a mass of tentacles and her brain pulses with electricity within her iridescent skull. She has amazing psychic powers, immunity to toxins, and she can swim at astounding speeds. Government officials give her the codename Medusae (which the media mistakenly changes to “Medusa,” a name that sticks) and send her out on aquatic missions.

No Energy Attack here, and I’d say the Agility and Flight are water-based. She can’t technically breathe underwater, so I’d either ask for a device to allow her to do so or to provide a Grade 2 on Health from the Supervisor to compensate for the self-imposed limitations on my powers.

There we go! Eight distinct thumbnail concepts from the same random rolls, all of which I can see being a fun foundation for a series of adventures. So yes, fully random rolls can be a mess. But there’s enough freedom in character creation that somehow solid characters still emerge. It’s fair to say that very few of these ideas would manifest in quite the same ways if I was using a point-buy system and starting with my own concept. That’s the joy of Golden Heroes character creation, and why it’s so addictive.

Holy cow this post became a beast. I’ll set my eyes on another game from my master list of games and see where the next post takes me.

In the meantime, may your Vigour be high and your Movement take you many metres!