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The Skeep posted:The ultimate grift... Becoming a chaos cultist specifically to curse items and sell them to priests for purification. Tzeentch? Probably falls under Tzeentch.
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# ¿ Jul 18, 2025 18:29 |
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Night10194 posted:The Border Princes' take on the lure of power and the perceptions of 'strongmen' is fun! Oh hey! People get into tabletop RPGs in all sorts of ways; they were introduced to them by a friend, encountered them in a game store, or found a rulebook in a bookstore that grabbed their interest. I got into them through a version of the last method: I found a copy of GURPS Space in a Barnes & Noble, saw tables in the back for randomly generating planets and alien species, and immediately snapped it up because I was and am the kind of nerd to spend hours rolling on those tables. I’ve loved doing that sort of thing ever since, so when I heard someone dedicated an official sourcebook to that, I had to download that poo poo. And now that I have nothing to do during the quarantine and because I do what I want, I get to show it to you. ![]() Part 1: Introduction and Chapter 1: Geography For those of you unfamiliar with the more obscure parts of the Warhammer Fantasy world, the Border Princes (refer to it as one thing with a plural name, i.e. the United States) is the name of a miserable stretch of badlands way to the south of where most games take place, stretching between the borders of Bretonnia, Tilea (fantasy Italy), and a gigantic stretch of even less hospitable land mostly occupied by orcs. It’s kind of a dumping ground for everyone in the setting who’s desperate enough to choose the worst possible place to resettle without having to face down actively hostile governments. Before they released Renegade Crowns, they’d established elsewhere that politics and society in the Border Princes were a swirling mess of civil war and counter-coups that made the systematic approach they’d used in other regional sourcebooks impossible, so the authors just dedicated half the book to methods to randomly generate a campaign setting in the region and the other half to DM advice for using that setting once you put it together. As we’ve seen in the thread, official Warhammer Fantasy adventures are kind of poo poo, but Renegade Crowns takes the opposite approach; it gives you a toolbox to use to generate a campaign from the ground up, providing players with a clear goal (taking the place over), plenty of story hooks, and an interconnected world the players can wedge themselves into as it moves around them. Having used them multiple times, the results you get from these tables just seem to mesh naturally and create something interesting every time. So that’s what I’m going to do with this review (for the first half of the review at least). I’ll take you step-by-step through the process of creating a region, exploring its quirks and elements as we go, before illustrating how the second half of the book gives you tools you can use to make that setting playable. Before we begin, I should establish a few things that characterize the Border Princes, just so we can all be on the same page:
We good? We good. Let’s go. ![]() So the first stage of building the campaign map is laying out a grid. Exciting! The book recommends a 20x20 grid for first-time cartographers but I’m going with 30x30 because I’m a badass. This shall be the beginning of the wonderful road we will travel together, guided along the way by my terrible skills at MSPaint. Way this works is I’m going to make a bunch of rolls on this chart: ![]() Yes, all the charts look like this, but this is one of the biggest. Also, check out that border art! Each pair of d100 rolls will give me a terrain type and how many squares to fill in with it. Each terrain chunk has two parts: terrain type (badlands, which are so rocky they make farming impossible; hills, which are gentle enough to support animal husbandry and some farming; mountains, which are mountains; plains, which are flat enough to farm or easily traverse; and swamps, which are wet, inhospitable, and generally suck) and vegetation (barren, which means desert, unbroken rock, or terrain uninhabitable for some other reason; scrublands, which are too poor to support human settlement but not borderline impassable; forested, meaning the area has enough trees to supply settlements with wood, forage, and also evil goat people; and grassy, which means the area is actually fertile enough to (in theory) support respectable agriculture). You can also get rivers, which the GM has freedom to draw out as they like, and a variety of unique features. Every time you roll on the chart, you add 10 to the next roll until you get a special feature, after which it resets. You just keep going until each map square (which, by the way, represents 16 mi.², or length-wise about the distance you can travel in a day over local terrain) has something in it. (By the way, I won’t be going this in-depth in the process in the future; right now I’m showing you the basic structure this all runs off.) Now, while this looks complicated and time-consuming at first blush, that’s because it is. It isn’t actually that difficult a process but building a map does take a while. If you take a close look at the chart (don’t bother, I did it for you), you will notice the results can make you fill in awkward numbers of squares at the same time, place terrains in ways that don’t make geological sense, and leave you with more terrain than the map can fit. They address these issues all at once with my single favorite section in the book; Renegade Crowns posted:The first four chapter of this book contains a lot of random tables. Indeed, it consists almost entirely of random tables and guidelines on how to use them. These tables are provided purely to help you create a setting for your campaign. You should ignore the results generated by the tables whenever you have a better idea. If you don’t like the result of a roll, re-roll. This is not “cheating.” This is not even “misusing the book.” This is what you are supposed to do with this book. Hell. loving. Yes. Most books that make use of random tables heavily urge you to use results-as-rolled, no matter how much they might clash; they usually rationalize it by pointing out that reconciling contradictory results is a great way to spark creativity. This is true and I have never once failed to fudge a roll a roll to get a more interesting outcome. This is the first time I’ve seen a book acknowledge that, and my first time through I fell in love over the course of three paragraphs. I will make copious use of this principle in the rolls ahead. ![]() Behold! The land of Camet! Some notes on the map:
Oh, speaking of ruins, that’s the next step in the process. Scavengers and desperate locals either destroy or reoccupy most abandoned structures and settlements in the Border Princes, but a few ruins and up being left untouched; these usually have some kind of supernatural menace haunting them scary enough to keep out interlopers. Ruins fill the role of dungeons, providing places a party might explore to either have a break from local politics or fish out something useful to use in their quest for regional domination. Renegade Crowns HEAVILY encourages you to fiddle with the results you get in this stage, since the results you get this early in the process say a lot about the region and its history: not only do they tell you who’s been through the area and why, but they imply what the tone of your campaign might be; more ruins means adventurers and supernatural elements are more likely to show up, while fewer ruins in the area makes for a more mundane and politically-focused game. I rolled a modest number of ruins in the area, so I guess this map offers a bit of both. Five elements define each ruin: type, ancient menace, original purpose, reason, and age.
Once you finish rolling up your ruins, you’ve completed the first quarter of region generation and are ready to start generating actual Princes of the Border Princes. So let’s do that. ![]() Through the magic of d100s, map labels, and yet more mediocre MSPaint art, we now have a completed terrain map of our new region – and with it, and idea of its history. Let’s go down the list:
And we’re done with the intro and chapter 1! Next up on the docket is generating the princes themselves, followed by laying out their domains and scattering monsters in for flavor. I have no idea how much space each chapter will need, so we’ll see how everything fits together when we get there.
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Leraika posted:I love random charts; this is great. ![]() ![]() ![]() Tibalt posted:Renegade Crowns and the random dungeon generator book for D&D 3.5 - Dungeonscape, I think? - are my two favorite toolkit random generator books. The GURPS books are okay, but they were a little too focused on being accurate or correct to produce a lot of fun results. I did enjoy the fascists alien cow centaurs I rolled up with GURPS Space though. GURPS Space aliens do tend to come out like centipedes, don't they? All those segments with their own legs.
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![]() Chapter 2: Prince Generation Its princes define the Border Princes both figuratively and literally. “Prince” is a generic term here, as in principality; they rule more or less independently as petty lords, whatever their titles. And they do have titles, usually pretentious ones. As the characters the PCs will most likely focus on, each Prince gets an extensive list of traits, features, and relationships that describes almost every aspect of their character; no other section in this book goes nearly as in-depth. A Prince controls maybe an average of 60 squares, meaning almost every map has extensive areas outside of their control; this is by design, since it leaves lawless areas for monsters and border settlements. As such, unless you roll up an obscene number of princes, you’ll end up with plenty of room on your map (and you shouldn’t use too many princes, since you have to decide what their relationships with each other are and that workload increases exponentially). Renegade Crowns tells us that every region borders other regions whose princes might interfere with them despite not being present on the map, but since it gives us no rules for working with that I tend to ignore it and just make the region hard to access (that’s why Camet’s borders are mostly barren or mountainous). It also tells us that princes frequently band together, maintaining their individual characters and principalities but sharing foreign relationships, something I’ll make use of for the ![]() The first step (and one of the most important) is determining what the Prince did before they became a Prince, since it determines their general approach to rulership.
![]() Their culture of origin also influences princes, obviously; from most to least common:
While you can assume every prince is about at the same level, Renegade Crowns gives you tools to determine at what point in their lifespans/careers a given prince is, complete with career paths and stats (most princes are in their third career). I tend to ignore this section or just breeze over it since it’s tied into the system more than most parts of the book. While I’m talking about it, this book relies very little on crunch; for the most part it’s a mixture of write-your-own-fluff and GM advice. You could very easily take your results from these charts and translate them to another system. I’ve never done so, but I guess I might in the future. After all this we get to generating a given prince’s personality. These elements aren’t setting-specific like the first two sections and boil down statless NPC generation (which it is). As such I’ll cover the individual rolls with a bit less granularity;
![]() We wrap up prince generation by determining their title and principality size. Title is pretty simple; you either choose their title or roll on a big ol’ list of 20 and use the result. To get the size of their principality, though, you roll on that very chart I showed off in the first update and portion off that number of squares as their holdings. Though you can place these wherever you want, you should probably center them on (marginally) arable land with natural borders between them and other princes, though you can do whatever you want, of course. While the book recommends rolling for principality size at the end of individual prince generation, I prefer to do it first; it lets me get a better handle on the personalities of my princes if I know what their situation is first. With all of that rolled, all your princes are now complete. The final step of this process is figuring out what your princes think of each other. Often the princes will band together and share diplomatic relationships – the book gives you a complicated process for dividing them up fairly – but I find the results make groups of mutually antagonistic princes work like little hive minds, so I tend to avoid that method unless there’s a solid reason (for example, if they’ve been in an alliance for a long time). Each relationship has two values and one subvalue: length, type, and subtype. As you can probably guess, the first is how long a relationship’s been going on, the second is the general flavor of the relationship, and the third represents that relationship’s defining elements – say, if two princes are allied, they might be bound by ties of enlightened self-interest or by ties of sleeping together. The Border Princes being the Border Princes, the line dividing diplomatic and personal relationships is so thin it may as well not exist, so how your princes interact is as driven by personal feelings as much as realpolitik. As such there is no division between public and private feelings in these relationships; one prince having a crush on another is as valid and important a relationship as to princes playing diplomatic games, and the tables reflect this. In theory, you can roll independently for both sides of a relationship (say, if you get an Alliance result for one and a Fear result from another, the former party might believe their alliance is built on mutual respect while the other just plays along because they think the first will turn on them if they don’t), but the book recommends against this as it tends to produce “daft” results; I recommend against it because it makes relationship generation too complex and hard to jigsaw together.
![]() After you’ve rolled up and written down all those diplomatic relations, you’ve completed this stage of region creation (in theory you can work out internal politics at this point, but the book specifically advises against this; it’s a lot of work and more easily done on the fly. Thanks for the court generation section, then. Why is it here?). The last section of this chapter briefly covers how to piece together the history of your region (I’ve already done that) and then we can move on to creating individual principalities. I’d present writeups of those princes here, but this update is long enough already and posting them now would probably double or even triple its wordcount. I’ll probably put that up as a 2.5 update in a bit before moving on to principality generation. Falconier111 fucked around with this message at 01:25 on Apr 21, 2020 |
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A lot of writers seem to write their books like they GM their games. They aren't even necessarily bad GMs; they have a style of game they like to run and want others to be able to do the same. Problem is, when they run their own games, their players know the kind of game the GM wants and are willing to play along so everyone at the table enjoys themselves; but when they write their books, instead of relying on a social contract to keep their games at the scale they like them, they end up instituting a bunch of rules to do it for you that just straitjacket the whole experience and prevent people from running the games they like to play. It doesn't help that a lot of these writers got into RPGs when a particularly rough and restrictive GMing style was even more common and haven't moved on. I don't know, I feel a lot of these people would just go "Yeah, go for it" if you told them you didn't like an aspect of their game and wanted to change it (NOTE: not all of them), but that doesn't come across in text. On the other hand, some of them are so ignorant, mean, or both that they probably shouldn't be telling other people what to do anyway so ![]()
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Man, this has nothing to do with ponies and I am so loving glad about it.![]() Chapter 2.5: Princes of Camet Since I cut this part out to save room on the last post (a good decision), I’ll dedicate this one to showing off the six princes I rolled up for this region. As the players will spend more time interacting with/planning to overthrow these characters than anyone else, each one needs an extensive writeup. That’s what this update is. Each Prince has their various values listed next to their names in order of generation (the ones with descriptive names are results from the personality tables) and includes diplomatic relationships below, with redundant entries removed. Man, that sentence sounds technical for something that involves no math. ![]() Every principality (in this region) is named after its ruler’s title (except for the Patrician, who rules the Free City). Each principality’s label sits outside its borders; when I generate communities, I’ll need that space inside it. Count Dieter von Leibwald (Bandit, Imperial (Vampire), Fifth Career, By My Command, Kill the Mutant, I Wouldn’t Expect You to Understand, Open Book, catchphrase, zero courtiers): before he came to power, Dieter von Leibwald had a reputation as a particularly skilled swordsman and bandit who challenged travelers to single combat, robbing those he defeated and killing those who refuse to fight him. After he killed the previous count in a duel and came to the throne, his secret came out; Dieter came not from the Empire, but from Sylvania. He is a vampire. Granted, he’s about as weak as vampires come; he’s been known to lose fights against mortals, never come out in daylight, and refuse to transform, but you can only drain so many prisoners of blood (as is the standard death penalty in the county) before people stop questioning you. In spite of his undeath, Dieter’s managed to establish diplomatic relations with the other princes of Camet, and though no one likes him, he’s proven to particularly like hunting Chaos and doesn’t seem interested in spreading the curse – and by Border Princes standards, that makes him a lot better neighbor than many ordinary people. Visitors will find him arrogant, condescending, and deeply unnerving in person; without the need to hide what he is, Dieter enjoys playing up the vampire stereotype as a tool of fear. However, aside from his constant threats to drink his subjects dry (which he never follows through on), he’s proven himself a competent protector of his principality, attacking monsters and raiders on his own and driving them off, and he has no interest in expending the lives of his subjects to expand his territory or attack other princes. As such, his subjects, while still unhappy being under the thumb of an undying monster, consider him one of the best Counts they’ve ever had – which says a lot about the Border Princes.
![]() Patrician Abele Columbino (Merchant, Tilean, Third Career, Marvel at My Wondrousness, My Word Is My Bond, Let’s Get to Business, Black Sheep, Uncontrollable Appetite, Eight Courtiers) and Capt. Lorenzo Bibino (Mercenary, Tilean, Third Career, It Must Be Mine, Kill the Mutant, Honestly You’d Embarrass a Snotling, Act of Virtue, Bizarre Temper, One Courtier): Abele Columbino and Lorenzo Bibino both began life in the Tilean city of Trantio, Abele as the son of the prominent Columbino merchant family and Lorenzo as a street urchin who enlisted young in a mercenary company. They met in their youth when Abele accompanied a delegation sent to hire Lorenzo’s company. Despite the fact that Lorenzo was Abele and Lorenzo might be the happiest rulers in the Border Princes, between ruling (relatively) stable realms and sharing a loving and healthy relationship. This fact does not make them nice or good. If anything, they are the cruelest rulers in Camet, more interested in maintaining control then Dieter, less interested in keeping a good image than Abelard or Shashank, and more proactive in keeping power than Hatshep. However, the two keep each other in check enough to prevent either from crossing the line too far. When visited, the two often play bad cop, worse cop; Lorenzo will lead with his characteristic foul mouth and grow even louder upon hearing profanity from someone else (a personal quirk he’s cultivated), while Abele will play hardball with visitors implying they’d get an even worse deal by dealing with Lorenzo. Since it’s common knowledge that will Abele collects silver coins from across the world, visitors usually bring a few to make negotiations easier. Both of them are more reasonable than they appear; while Lorenzo wants power and Abele once prestige, neither feel taking advice compromises their goal and talking back (without swearing) is as likely to gain the respect as it is to pass them off. For all their power and influence, however, one major issue stalks them; the Columbinos have located Abele and are watching him for signs of greater ambition. If he was to gain enough influence to try to return to Trantio, he would throw their lines of inheritance act into chaos and weaken the house, and they’d rather assassinate him than let that happen. Lorenzo’s weakness goes a bit deeper; he runs a small network of halfway houses for what we would recognize as transgender and intersex children on the run from their parents. If someone were to discover and threaten them, they’d have Lorenzo by the metaphorical balls; he wouldn’t quite give up his life or position to protect them, but he’d compromise his own power to a large degree as long as he can keep those houses open.
Marquise Shashank Espeaux (Politician, Border Princes, First Career, for the Love of the Children, What’s That?, You Have Our Permission to Rise, Chaos Cultist, Compulsion, 10 Courtiers): Of the various children and grandchildren of the original Marquise of Camet, only one survived the Siege of Castle March, a lesser son who settled in the isolated western hills of Camet and claimed the Marquis title. Shashank is his granddaughter, a wildly-rare fourth-generation ruler just recently come to the throne after her father’s death from food poisoning (as far as anyone can tell, an actual, natural death). Intimately aware of her status as the newest and least-experienced prince in Camet, Shashank has taken great lengths to establish a reputation as a cunning manipulator, one that’s already taken root. Unlike her father, who spent most of his reign trying (and failing) to expand, Shashank has successfully favored soft power and influence, and in time she may well come to dominate Camet diplomatically – if her secret doesn’t consume her first. As human as she seems, Shashank is in fact the product of Tzeentchian sorcery. After realizing they were both infertile, her parents turned to a cult within their principality’s border for help; they agreed in return for protection and patronage, and ever since disguised cultists have dominated the March’s internal affairs. Despite the corruption in her blood, Shashank has no interest in serving Chaos, but she values continuing the family line above escaping the cult’s influence; if she has to, she will shelter them within her borders until her death. She deliberately avoids the cult as much as possible and has taken to publicly briefly praying to any divinity that will listen, but neither of those things have helped her situation. If someone was to drive out the cult without realizing her connection to it, she’d owe them a great debt and likely work them in to her already-overstuffed court; if she believed they knew about that connection, she’d support their efforts until they succeeded in gutting it and then have them quietly murdered. If someone was to reveal that secret, both her and the March would probably be destroyed unless in her desperation she properly falls to Chaos; killing a Chaos cultist powerful enough to control a principality might be the only thing Abelard and the Tilean could cooperate on, while her own subjects would quite likely rise up in horror. The March is a ticking time bomb; depending on what happens next it may peacefully unite the region or doom its western half to destruction.
![]() Prince Abelard de Mont Casteaux (Knight, Bretonnian, Fifth Career, This Power Is Mine, Save the Children, We’re All Friends Here, Foul Murderer, Religious Fanatic, Five Courtiers): Prince Abelard has ruled the largest and most influential principality in Camet for over 15 years, having left his old life as a petty knight in Bretonnia behind over a decade before. Outliving countless assassination attempts and perilous battles, Abelard has built a functioning state complete with a legal code and a (minuscule) bureaucracy for solving minor disputes between settlements and collecting taxes. Visitors to his court – and it is a court, even if it’s located in a small castle near his capital with only five advisors and a few servants – find him a gregarious and humble man who nevertheless never fails to impose his will on any situation he is involved in. Despite the ongoing war against the Tilean princes, Orcish and Chaotic incursions, and the standard threat of unexpected death that characterizes politics in the Border Princes, Abelard only faces two real issues. The first, and the most obvious, is that Abelard is getting old. The powerlust that brought him to the throne is growing dull as he ages and his failure to consider an heir early on has come to bite him. While he only cares so much for his principality as anything other than a path to power, Abelard has accepted his eventual death and has no desire to leave behind a pathetic legacy. His twin daughters, his only children, have proven unfit for the throne; one has devoted herself to the Lady of the Lake and spends her days praying to be made a Grail Maiden (even though Grail Maidens don’t work like that) and the other is so dissolute she’s barely fit to walk in a straight line, let alone rule a principality. In theory, he’d be open to appointing his successor, but they’d have to walk the delicate line between impressing him and not threatening him or his family. The other issue has followed him almost his whole life, and in fact caused his exile from Bretonnia. Abelard is a cannibal. He acquired a taste for human flesh at some point when fighting for his liege lord in a petty war in his homeland and that lord exiled him when he discovered Abelard had been eating the infant children of his peasants; even for Bretonnian nobility, that was too much to bear. Abelard has since cleaned up his act – not only is he horrified by what he did in his homeland, he now has a genuine soft spot for the welfare of children that endears him to his subjects. But he never lost the habit. It’s an addiction he satisfies by eating parts of criminals he executes (as far as anyone knows, he likes killing his enemies in private), and if his secret got out, he’d probably lose his crown to hungry neighbors and usurpers riding a wave of popular disgust.
Wizard-Empress Hatshep I (Wizard, Border Princes, Fourth Career, Give Me Liberty or Give Me a Moment to Run Away, Follow Your Instructions, Strange Hobby, Phobia, Six Courtiers): Hatshep is an enigma; she was born in Camet (in her current capital, in fact), but vanished before she hit 10 years old. Her parents believed she’d been killed in a raid. When she returned years later, not only was she alive, but she’d somehow gained the trappings and knowledge of a junior Celestial Wizard (even though she can’t bear the sight of anything painted in that order’s midnight blue). She tells no one how she gained her knowledge or why she returned, though she’s loud enough about her power that she seems unconcerned of rumors getting back to the Empire (her past is left to the GM). Whatever her past looks like, shortly after returning Hatshep took up employment under Abelard and served him loyally for years before getting ahead of herself and claiming a stretch of land near the place of birth as her own. She has since learned to regret her decision. She declared independence by accident (she claimed a village as her own instead of Abelard’s, which he couldn’t allow) and does not have the skill or experience necessary to stay afloat. If she can make it through the next few years she will harden into a proper Border Prince, but as of now she desperately wishes she were anywhere else. Hatshep may well be the only ruler in the Border Princes who wants to be deposed, just as long as she can survive the experience; she would be loyal (and a lot more careful) serving under anyone smart enough to peacefully replace her. That’s if they can figure that fact out, though. If her enemies were looking to undermine her more efficiently, they wouldn’t have to play mind games, just check her basement. Hatshep And with that, we finally finished prince generation. Next up is actually looking at the territory they rule.
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Nemo2342 posted:It's honestly a little sad. Back when the show was new, most people I saw (at least from the old SA thread and then the offsite forums once they were run off of SA) were embracing the show because it was a good, wholesome cartoon that was honestly refreshing to a bunch of irony-poisoned internet people. And the show was written smartly enough so as not to exhaust parents watching it that it didn't come off as overly childish. I think a part of it was a bunch of extremely awkward people discovering something they felt endorsed people accepting them as they were, barging into various spaces where they thought they could be their regular creepy selves, getting called out for being creepy, and withdrawing as a response, no self-awareness needed. Granted, pop culture was not kind to them, but instead of trying to fix their poo poo a lot of them decided the "tolerant" people they got burned by were hypocrites and closing their communities off. Also, bronies first emerged on 4chan right about when Gamergate was transitioning into the MRA movement, which meant they were perfectly positioned to get involved in one of the movements that would later coalesce into the alt right. And a bunch of people who thought tolerant people were hypocrites, with personal experience for them to appeal to? Perfect recruiting ground. I'm willing to bet that's part of why this creature carries that specific ideological bent; a lot of alt righties worship the free market but think they need a strong and militant government to protect it from any and all outside influences – and communism? The perfect enemy to hold that system together. Mix all that with right wing nostalgia, blend with RPG mechanics, and serve.
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![]() Chapter 3: Inhabitants After the Colossus that was chapter 2, chapters 3 and 4 are relatively short, so they should go a bit faster. As far as 3 goes, principality generation takes up maybe four-fifths of the chapter with the remainder being stuff for character creation. It turns out I got the numbers wrong earlier in the review; instead of a village every square, you get maybe one village every four squares, and that’s in the most fertile regions. Most settlements end up under a prince’s control; they may be assholes, incompetent, or both, but they offer some military protection from the monsters and other princes that stalk the area, and that’s better than nothing. There are a few settlements that go it alone, but they are very much exceptions. You generally encounter three kinds of settlement in the Border Princes; towns, villages, and homesteads. Towns are rare; you can have a max of one per principality and they never show up outside of one without some force keeping them independent. They are distinguished by, unlike every other kind of settlement, not devoting most of their population to agriculture in some way; towns are couple-thousand-people-strong trade and manufacturing centers (they get one distinguishing feature per thousand people), the only ones in the region. Villages, averaging at about 150 people, show up much more frequently; they pop up pretty much everywhere they can access enough farmland to support them. However, most of them don’t have distinguishing features so the book doesn’t advise generating them in detail. The same goes for homesteads; an order of magnitude smaller than villages, they show up a few times per square, but the bulk don’t have distinguishing features either. ![]() What sets important settlements apart – and what makes them worth generating – are a variety of special features the book presents in one of its customary fat charts. During principality creation you roll up the number of towns, villages, and homesteads (the first two are functions of the principality’s size while the last is just a d10 roll) that have said features, then roll up what sets them apart, possibly moving on to other gigantic charts. These features come in several flavors; economic resources, strongholds and chokepoints, and special features. Economic resources cover any kind of economic activity in general, whether resource harvesting, crafts, or trading. All settlements have some amount of all three; everyone can pull in agricultural products, make low-quality goods, and trade with visitors. What sets settlements with economic resources apart is their access to more or better stuff than everyone else.
![]() If you don’t pick up an economic resource, you get one of the other results on a table;
![]() A few careers. Once you’ve rolled all these out (and decided their names, there are several charts in an appendix for randomly rolling up place names of various types), you’re done building a principality. The next section covers character creation for the Border Princes, but for the most part it’s just a list of careers for players to choose. Not too much exciting here; there are special careers for swamp dwellers, long-distance traders, various flavors of religious weirdos, and so forth. It’s much shorter than the last section, and once you’ve read it, you’ve finished the chapter. I’ve gone ahead and rolled up Camet’s principalities, but I’ll try and keep this update short and sweet. I’ll go over some of the highlights in the next update. Falconier111 fucked around with this message at 22:33 on Apr 22, 2020 |
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Night10194 posted:The thing about WHFRP2e is that in my experience it actually isn't that lethal. Mutation stands out as an outlier when it comes up often, but it doesn't actually come up that often and there are usually ways to avoid it when it does. It's what makes the lovely final dungeon and Schwalb's total love of it (and other save or dies in ToC) puzzling. Most of the game, you get some slack and leeway and opportunities to survive. And when those are bolstered by Fate giving you extra lives... I remember listening to a review of Dark Heresy that criticized the Psychic Phenomena table since (if I remember right) its results were toothless fluff until you got halfway up Perils of the Warp and it becomes hilariously lethal and likely to kill you (it's been a while, so I'm probably not doing it justice).I remember thinking, as because that system was designed for investigation first instead of combat first like most popular systems; it's why you have so many skills for fine shades of social interaction and one that's just for taking and shaking off drugs.If you're going through somebody's files while trying to avoid the guards, the room suddenly smelling like rotten eggs is less a bit of flavor text and more a reason for the guard to swing by. It makes using powers a risky enough proposition that players hesitate before using them anyway, Which makes the Perils of the Warp table (which is actually extremely unlikely to reach) a threat instead of an inevitability. And then I realized that most players would rather run around and fight 'nids than trying to scam some drugged up noble. It doesn't matter what a system is designed for if its used for something else.
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Night10194 posted:But then Dark Heresy just isn't a particularly well designed game. Alright, that's fair.
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![]() 3.5: Principalities of Camet So, let’s take a look at the finished political map of the region. The region is almost complete: we have to roll up various monster groups in the area, but that’s it. As a side note, I’d say this stage takes the longest of the four; while it’s not complex, there are a lot of settlements you need to roll up and placement decisions to make. As such I’ll only touch on some of the more interesting settlements here. ![]() This map is… pretty lovely. Oh well, it’ll only get worse from here. County: the County (without an “of” since the death of the last Count) might be the best-armed region in Camet; between multiple coal mines, a massive iron mine, and Camet’s only gunsmith, it has everything an aspiring Prince would need to outfit a military. Instead, Dieter has opted to hunt bandits and monsters. At least for the first time in living memory, the County’s position to flourish – if it’s constituent communities can keep from sniping at each other. No one knows what Dieter would do if civil war breaks out, but as the relatively densely packed villages in the region’s only solid farmland squabble over land rights, they risk attracting his attention if they start to actually fight.
Free City of Volcano Town : though de facto part of the Captaincy to the west, Volcano Town governs itself and its surroundings as a city-state as it has for centuries. Its partial independence is an optics move; given just how wealthy Volcano Town and Shiny Altdorf are independently, formally uniting the two would present enough of a threat that Abelard and Hatshep might drop their feud and come at Abele and Lorenzo in tandem. For now, the two Tilean princes jointly govern the Captaincy while a city council rules Volcano Town in Abele’s name (and collects exorbitant taxes). The principality’s future is uncertain; it might fall to its neighbors to the south, get annexed by its neighbor to the west, find a way to strike out on its own, or fall under some new Prince’s control.
![]() March of Camet: the March is the oldest continuous governments in Camet and one of the oldest in the Border Princes, tracing back its foundation almost 75 years. Both constrained and protected by its isolated position since the death of the first Marquise, its internal politics are stable and economy robust. But as Chaos outbreaks and mutations grow more common and rumors spread of dark things in St. Laquile, that period of peace might finally be drawing to an end.
Captaincy of the North: between its fertile western region, access to natural resources, and copious amounts of gold, the Captaincy might be the single wealthiest principality in Camet. That doesn’t make it the most prosperous; the Tilean princes aren’t exactly administrators and are more interested in fighting Abelard than making sure their state functions. Camet as a whole has unusually stable governance for the Border Princes, but the Captaincy is a clear exception. Still, as long as they hold the pursestrings of the region and have the strength to back their threats up, Lorenzo and Abele can count on their principality’s support.
![]() Princedom of New Camer: while the combined Captaincy and Free City might beat it in wealth, the March in prestige, and the County in defensibility, the Princedom outweighs them all in the sheer size and population. Until the rise of the Tilean princes it dominated Camet, and even now has of the resources to keep them on the defensive. It’s even internally cohesive enough to support a small bureaucracy. But that doesn’t make it stable; the cultural divide between the traditionally independent hilly north and the area around New Camer threatens to pull the principality apart even as monsters stalk the countryside [this will show up in the next phase].
The Wizard’s Empire : though traditionally known as the Empire of Giant’s Balls, Hatshep changed the name of the principality when she came to power as she felt it beneath her dignity. She came to power by leading Abelard’s troops to victory over the previous Emperor and deciding to go her own way, and since then she’s had to fend off raids from the Princedom and the Free City looking for revenge or opportunity. Her principality is a fragile one; too isolated to offer easy expansion and to accessible to defend easily, she’s found her Empire a difficult and dangerous land to rule. She may or may not survive long enough to secure it.
Other Settlements
Writing all this up was the most boring part of this review. Rolling it up was just fine, but you can only make up so much text for each tiny settlement. Whatever, it’s over. Next up is lair generation; we’ll be throwing together half a dozen groups of monsters, orcs, and assorted ne’er-do-wells to menace our region with.
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PurpleXVI posted:Thing is, false dichotomies like this is a place where fascism thrives: by insisting that reasoned, non-rear end in a top hat choices don't exist and all you can do is make a HARD CHOICE and be a HARD MAN. Like either you TORTURE THESE PUPPIES and make a LIBERAL LAWYER CRY or THE TERRORISTS WIN. And for that matter, you can often find sympathetic elements in other factions too. I mean, there's the Tau obviously, but if you want other sympathetic aliens you have the Eldar - Exodite, Craftworld, and new Ynnari Eldar all have something going for them. But then, the Eldar also get shafted a lot, and those that don't have their worst features intensified. There's a lot of fluff removal going on in the background to keep the grimdark going. e: Robindaybird posted:That is the big one, the only reason Fascism works and is the Best option is because The Writers Say So - Fascist governments always ends up eating itself or collapse from incompetence. It takes a lot of writing to keep it alive, too. Falconier111 fucked around with this message at 02:08 on Apr 27, 2020 |
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Loxbourne posted:This. But the extra wrinkles you have to add are (a) 40K was a standard part of nerd adolescence (in the UK in particular) for so long that fans now give it a free pass to avoid awkward introspection about their hobby choices, and (b) those same fans may be invested to the tune of thousands of dollars/pounds on multiple armies and books, which they may genuinely enjoy playing with. Or use as the basis for social interaction. They will react very badly to any suggestion they think about what the fluff actually depicts - hence the common phenomena of groups softening 40K down. And in those three reasons you've summed up reactionary nerd culture and why it tends to be so ruthlessly opposed to anything progressive.
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![]() Chapter 4: Hazards Some scholars think that monsters are no more or less common in the Border Princes than in the rest of the world; the region just lacks enough resources to mount consistent monster extermination efforts. This gives the appearance of more numerous and more deadly threats in the Border Princes. They are wrong. The region overflows with monsters naturally. ![]() In this chapter, “hazards” means any (theoretically) mobile threat – not natural disasters or traps, but monsters or hordes. Hazard generation works by creating “lairs”, each of which is essentially an independent threat or group of threats (they don't have to have an actual lair), then distributing said lairs across the map. Since they can end up huge in number or power and very influential on regional politics, the number of lairs in a map can shift the tone of a campaign; a smaller number puts a focus on politicking with a few unusual threats to keep things lively, while a larger number means principality politics takes a backseat to ensuring mutual survival. Lairs themselves come in four flavors: Chaos, greenskins, undead, and everything else. ![]() Maybe one in five lairs are openly Chaotic. Beastmen tend to make up the bulk of Chaos worshipers in the area, hanging out in forested regions and raiding their neighbors, while mutants either from the Border Princes or fleeing more civilized lands tend to form their own groups or join up with beastman tribes. You also have the occasional Chaos warrior or even an open Daemon, in large part because this is after the Storm of Chaos and defeated fragments of Archaeon’s armies tend to flee into the Border Princes too. But unless you get lucky, most of your Chaotic lairs will belong to beastmen. As a side note, a settlement with a Chaos cult generated in step three doesn’t count as a lair, though Chaotic lairs can function as settlements in their own right. Greenskins by far take up more lairs than any other type, showing up about half the time. Orcs are endemic to the region; in fact, they held much of the Border Princes after Araby left and had to be driven out by early settlers. The only type of greenskin that doesn’t regularly show up here are hobgoblins, which are limited to fantasy Central Asia anyway. They also tend to be numerous and well organized (as far as they can be organized), making them serious threats to nearby principalities. Most greenskin groups operate out of a stationary lair (a literal one, this time) and periodically raid the surrounding area. Any groups of 100 or less have a 50% chance to be nomadic (better to avoid more powerful groups that way), while groups of over 1000 roll for territory size like principalities and push any settlements in their area of control to its rim (I never position this kind of lair where it can move a village around since erasing and redrawing stuff I’ve already worked on makes my stomach turn). Curiously, given how the greenskin population table works, it’s possible to roll up a lair without any inhabitants; if that happens, just start the table over. ![]() Various kinds of undead occupy another one in five lairs. They come in three flavors:
![]() The last lair type covers everything else, mostly monstrous animals. Every monster lair is generated with its attitude towards the outside world; they might attack the surrounding areas, keep to themselves, protect something valuable, or even set up a tributary relationship with a nearby settlement. Not much more to cover here. Now, lair placement. At this point we’ve run out of tables to roll on; the region’s complex enough. Most lairs can be placed down wherever you want, but there’s a couple paragraphs on how to place monster lairs depending on their attitude. After this, we get some solid GM advice; work out with your players what kind of campaign everyone would like, adapt the region to fit what you agree on, and reroll anything that doesn’t fit or that you don’t like. And then you’re done. Since this is kind of a short update, I’ll go ahead and throw up the eight lairs I rolled up: ![]() The finished map (generation wise, appearance wise it still sucks). I really ran out of space here, I probably should have set some area aside for monsters in the third step. Either way. While I could have played up the lairs’ influence on regional affairs a lot more, I chose to leave them mostly marginalized
And that’s the end of region creation. I’ll do a retrospective in the next post.
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![]() Region Creation Conclusion ![]() We are now 64 pages into a 127-page book. In this time we’ve worked our way through four separate stages, each with its own constellation of subsystems, and theoretically created a campaign setting from scratch, a process that, in and of itself, is fun as hell. So let’s start evaluating the finished product with the numbers: leaving everything else behind, what did we roll up?
Okay, cool, I love it. I’ve been through a dozen different campaign area generation systems before, and already we’ve gotten enough to beat out half of them. But that’s purely mechanical, just a place for PCs to run around in. In general, these systems just produce a map and leave it to the GM to come up with ways to use it. But what have the various chunks of fluff in all those subsystems helped me produce?
That is… A hell of a lot more than most similar systems provide. As engaging as region generation on its own is, the way Renegade Crowns makes you come up with reasoning for your rolls as you make them and encourages you to adjust them to fit that reasoning results in a setting much more cohesive than you can get anywhere else. Now, the book isn’t perfect, of course: I specifically called out the core generation mechanics as flawed and tacked-on, and some of the art is… ![]() … Questionable. But the fact that I have to hunt for subsystems or pieces of art I don’t like just to have something to criticize says a lot about the level of quality on display. With this all covered, we have two questions left. The first is one of the most important for any RPG: is it playable? I have no idea how well a Border Princes region would function in a real campaign. Even if I did understand the system/want to run it, I don’t have the equipment and people I’d need to pull it off. If anyone has experience using Renegade Crowns, I’d ask you to share just to see whether all of this would pan out. The second is where to go with this review. I am intimately familiar with the first part of the book – region generation – but I’ve only ever skimmed the second part – GM advice for running a campaign in said region. I have no idea how far I’d make it into these next chapters or how deep I’d be able to go; does the thread want me to write it up?
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The Lone Badger posted:You can make steel with a bloomery and a shitload of work. The quality tends to be pretty variable but small-scale production is possible. Speaking as the resident Border Princes ExpertTM, local BP steel probably shades more towards Wood Elf-level in quality and definitely in quantity. Society is just too unstable to get good iron where it needs to go or allow smiths to develop a metallurgy tradition like even the Bretonnians have (see: making gently caress-off plate mail). I mean, they do have local foundries and such and they do produce usable steel, but there's no real way for them to preserve knowledge/boost production/assemble the kind of professional culture most other societies have. Mostly they use local iron and imported steel and just hope for the best.
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Man, there’s too much GW in this thread. Let’s switch to another company. I’ve always been a fan of strange settings – not completely alien ones, necessarily, but settings that stand out from the crowd. Getting into RPGs opened that field up even further, and I was so interested in the fluff I found in sourcebooks that I rarely paid attention to the mechanics. Exalted… Is not one of those settings. Leaving aside all of its issues, from the Infernals to the creeping Orientalism to the faint stench OG White Wolf tends to leave behind, I just never found it all that inspiring. My only acquaintance with it, aside from some fan stuff I liked, comes through Internet cultural osmosis. Except for one fraction of the setting, one I discovered a couple months ago. It’s a setting people talk about like Planescape: a GM’s dream they can never hope to make players use. A setting within the body of a dying machine god where his mechanical failure manifests as literal gremlins and serial killers. A setting where the only organic inhabitants are humans who industrialized prayers, farm by tapping nutrient slurry, and weave their clothes out of harvested fiber optics, where great heroes turn into cities as they age, radio announcers are friendly spirits, and the fundamental elements include lightning, oil, and steam. A setting that is both figuratively and literally metal as gently caress. ![]() Introduction and Chapter 1, Part One: Autochthonia First of all, I have no idea how Exalted’s system works, at least directly: I do have some experience with the Storyteller System through World of Darkness games I’ve played in, but that’s it. As such, I’ll be heavily focusing on the fluff. Also, if I choose to go the extra mile, I will in fact review the two books they released for Alchemicals, this book and to the setting-specific Autocthonia sourcebook which has maybe one stat block and no other system material, which will make that whole thing much easier. Whatever, we’ll see when we get there. Finally, get ready for a bunch of bizarre terminology; don’t worry if you get lost in the weeds because I will too. I want to show off and explore this setting, but it isn’t always organized or coherent and I’ll try to point out inconsistencies or interesting contrasts when I run into them. Each chapter starts out with the obligatory White Wolf setting illustration comic. These ones are actually pretty good, though you can tell they assigned different comics to different artists. The book starts out with three in a row, one after the table of contents, the next before the obligatory White Wolf glossary, and the other before the first chapter. The first comic involves a Sovan Preceptor and his wife asking the Champion Stern Whip of Industry to leave his work among the Populat to search for their son, a Lector who went missing after trying to preach to the Tunnel Outcasts. He finds the young man in the Reaches, where he seems to have joined and been corrupted by a Voidbringer cult, then attacks him. In the second, a Champion meets with a Grand Autocrat before discovering his messenger was murdered and had his Soulgem removed, and the last one covers a group of dying explorers in the Reaches and their rescue by a Colossus just when their faith in the Maker runs out. Confused yet? The glossary the writers plopped down halfway through these comics doesn’t even help, it just throws even more terms at us without the context we need to decipher them. Not the most promising start, but at least the comics tell clear stories and help set the mood. ![]() Chapter 1 proper kicks off its setting overview by covering Autocthon’s origin and history and… Look, my understanding of Exalted lore is pretty spotty so I only half-know this stuff. As far as I can tell, here’s the rough series of events up until the point where the settings diverge:
![]() While the gods and a few other sympathetic Primordials went off to play their parts in the plan, Autochthon captured 600 of one type of Primordial before anyone noticed, vivisected them one by one and broke down their souls as they died ![]() e: I should have included this here but the relevant sidebar is on the other side of the chapter. The Seal of Eightfold Divinities is impenetrable from the outside, even from Solars or other gods. Flat-out, no exceptions. They can't even tell where it is. However, it can be broken from the inside with the sort of focused power in a nation can muster, an option for the truly desperate. At least one God is considering breaking it too. One of the last sections of the book will cover what might happen if the Seal breaks, so I'll go into more detail than. Turns out, though, the insides of a creator deity isn’t exactly the most hospitable place. They call it the Realm of Brass and Shadow for a reason: humans are the only biological anything in Autochthon‘s body outside of the special nutrient slurry it produces to feed them. The first couple centuries were really rough on Autochthon’s new inhabitants and after a while they faced extinction, so he came up with a new plan. Those six blueprints for Exalted? No one had ever actually used them directly, just as the base for other kinds of Exalted. So he gathered the souls of the eight human champions he’d assigned to lead his followers when they first set out, had human technicians assemble eight artificial bodies based on those blueprints, and 3-D printed eight gems made out of pure Essence, each of which contained the soul of one of those champions and also a bunch of other souls I guess? Anyway, they loaded these bodies up with their new soulgems and made the first Alchemical Exalted, and their followers would eventually make up the eight major nations of Autochthonia. With that accomplished, Autochthon went to sleep and left eight component souls to form basically a pantheon and oversee his body, enchanting them to make sure they’d never turn on him while he slept. ![]() poo poo went south pretty quickly. Though the Alchemicals proved capable of fending off a lot of the greater threats around them, they didn’t prove immune to human failings. While those extra souls, all of which had belonged to accomplished individuals and heroes, combined to reinforce ambitious and prosocial personalities for the good of their followers, that never meant everyone agreed on the best actions to take. One of them, the leader of a nation called Estasia, decided he wanted to be Alexander the Great and fought a series of devastating wars with the other seven, causing Autochthon to break down from lack of maintenance wherever he showed up. While he never managed to win anything and his opponents drowned his armies in numbers whenever they encountered him, the nature of Autochthonian geography prevented any permanent victory; territory moves around as part of Autochthon’s natural processes, and Estasia always drifted away before their enemies could enforce terms. Eventually though, Estasia stepped down and every country got to struggle to survive on their own, now making new Alchemicals on their own to keep themselves and their home safe and stable. The next phase of Autochthonian history kicked off about 500 years in when a couple of very old Alchemicals consumed themselves and barfed out cities. Up till then, Autochthonians mostly lived in shanties of metal huts and scavenged parts, but these cities were made for human habitation in style; they had built-in industrial complexes, defenses, ways to tap into Autochthon’s body to safely extract the clear water and nutrient paste veins he’d designed for human use, and the still-present consciousness of the founding Alchemical who now had access to a variety of powerful abilities called Municipal Charms. They revolutionized life for their citizens, and within the next few hundred years all eight nations housed most of their populations in ex-Alchemicals (called patropolises and metropolises, depending on the gender of their originator). ![]() But the thing is? Alchemicals have the obligatory White Wolf morality stat, this time called Clarity: it measures how close an Alchemical is to normal human experience, and as they become powerful enough to found cities their Clarity gets intense enough that they lose track of how ordinary people think, even though there overall morality remains intact. With patropoli and metropoli influencing national leaders, the nations started engaging in destructive ideological wars based on what their leaders thought were good ideas. Maybe 1800 years in, Autochthon’s geography started bringing the eight nations into closer contact, and, afraid of these wars growing out of control, the eight nations held a conclave that imposed a universal social system designed to meet everyone’s standards enough to keep everyone on the same page. I’ll go into the exact workings of Autochthonian society later, but the main takeaways were that all nations use the same class systems and Alchemicals were relegated to advisory roles. Everybody’d adopted them by 2000 years in. After another 1500 years of stability, the next crisis emerged in the small, highly religious nation of Jarish, where it turned out a Voidbringer cult had sucked in an Alchemical. You know how Autochthon was always kind of sickly? Wherever his body starts to fail due to that sickness, the whole area warps and starts producing gross monsters and movie-nihilist cultists. People call it the Void, link it to the space outside Autochthon‘s body, and when cultists start worshiping it, they call themselves Voidbringers and try to corrupt everything else. Up till that point Autochthonians thought they were keeping the Void under control, but the aftermath of the cult’s discovery and the 20 year long manhunt for the fallen Alchemical threw everything into question again. Nobody thought Alchemicals could get corrupted like that, and since by that point they become basically exemplars of Autochthonian society that fact undermined a lot of the assumptions that held it together. They also realized the sickness was spreading a lot faster than they could handle. The current year is 4878. Autochthonia is declining. Due to the spreading sickness, sources of vital metals, nutrients, and magic keep dwindling, while corrupted areas – called blight zones – and corrupted spirits and machines – called gremlins – keep pushing up against human borders. That well of souls Autochthon put together is running out since it turns out it doesn’t recycle souls nearly as well as he thought it would, so soul shortages are causing stillbirths everywhere. Conveniently, everything’s ready for a set of heroes to step in and try and fix/break everything. ![]() This is what that cult was doing. Other cults have done worse. Though different nations vary in culture and organization, they all follow a basic social structure. Since life inside Autochthon is so demanding, society tends to be both strictly regimented and meritocratic. I’ll get into more details if/when I get to the setting book, but for now, get ready for bulleted lists and bizarre terms!
![]() Speaking of which, nations are the fundamental units of Autochthonian society; while they share an identity, the vast majority of Autochthonians identify with the nation and culture of their birth, and the national Tripartites determine how society and international politics work. There are eight major nations, each of which descends from the followers of one the champions Autochthon brought with him:
Falconier111 fucked around with this message at 23:20 on May 23, 2020 |
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Posted separately to make Inklesspen’s job easier: is there any standard way to format images in a review? I never know how tall or wide to make them or what image format to use.
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![]() Chapter 1, Part Two: Alchemicals Fundamentals The process of creating Alchemicals (they come in batches, both because it’s more resource-efficient and because it offers an excuse for party formation) is a difficult and complicated one. It starts with the Tripartite commissioning them gathering a huge amount of material for the process, including a variety of clays only rarely manifesting in mostly-mechanical Autochthonia, magical metals, enchanted crystals, and even the bodily fluids of Populat workers (in game terms, building one will drain a person or organization with Resources 4 to Resources 2, while making them in a batch does the same for Resources 5). It also requires the right kind of soul. I don’t know the specifics of the top my head, but Autochthonians all have soulgems placed in them at birth that seem to contain their actual souls. Alchemicals need the souls of people who have distinguished themselves through multiple reincarnations (so THAT’S what the multiple souls thing is about) in order to function, so they have to hunt the right soulgem down first. Soulgems of recently-dead Alchemicals can be reused, but they tend to develop memory gaps going on full Rip van Winkle if re-implanted too often so they are usually sent back into circulation instead. Once everything they need is assembled, specialists from each Sodality (as in, experts with specially-cultivated mutations that help them survive knowing one-fifth of a process that directly channels divine knowledge) huddle up and go through a five-step process that Frankensteins the Alchemical(s) to life. The Sodalities usually handle specific technical aspects of Autochthonian life, but they started out as secret societies based around the part of the Exaltation process they knew, so their roles in both reflect each other.
![]() Alchemicals emerge fully conscious with a name, largely set identity and knowledge of their circumstances. Their initial personality is a hodgepodge of memories and skills from past lives; they might remember being a lever-puller in a arms factory, a battlefield surgeon, a commander, and a falsely-accused Lumpen – or another Alchemical or a fervent patriot of another nation – and inherit some of their skills and personality traits. However different their past lives were, though, they always come out with coherent and human personalities. Their bodies are always humanoid, at least at first, though they are so obviously nonorganic no one’s going to mistake them for human anytime soon. Yes, this includes the ability to have sex, but any ERP capability is left thankfully unexplored. As they age and grow more powerful, Alchemicals can alter their body plan as they like; the same Sodality members that put them together can switch out body parts and Charms or even change their entire body plan with enough time and materials. The most common and important body plan change is when powerful Champions upgrade themselves into 12-feet-tall war machines called Colossi. A Colossus is by nature both powerful and detached from other people, and the process of increasing power and Clarity culminates in the patropolis/metropolis transformation. However, most Alchemicals never finish their transformation process: there have been tens of thousands of Alchemicals in Autochthonian history and over 3000 active today, but maybe 50 of them have become cities. They tend to avoid going Colossus if they like having human relationships or any subtlety at all, and they avoid the city route if they like the ability to move around or think about anything other than infrastructure (though they can build drones to interact with people when they hit that stage). Unlike basically every other Exaltation type, Alchemicals were specifically intended to serve mortals instead of lead or dominate them. Still, they do have the social status of any Tripartite member by nature and can act with authority when they need to use it. But even though an Alchemical has a great deal of authority and independence by nature, a freshly-unpotted Champion lacks the network of favors and social connections even a middle manager can leverage (and the fact that middle managers can and do successfully throw their weight against new Alchemicals in disputes says a lot about Autochthonian culture). Between their inherent skills and immortality (the oldest base-form Alchemical currently active is about 3000), this weakness doesn’t last long, but they remain beholden to mortals in fact as well is in theory for their entire lives. In return, they gain enormous personal freedom as well as, you know, supernatural powers. While Autochthonian society depends on everyone filling their roles as assigned to maximize efficiency in their harsh environment, Alchemicals, between their inherent skill and drive, the loyalty to the state that comes with nationalism (one of the most important reasons why nations have such strong identities in the first place), and the way they rely on Sodality technicians for upgrades and repairs, are trusted to experiment, innovate, and challenge social norms as they see fit. They spend most of their time fulfilling requests from the Tripartite and advising various leaders, but they can and do break social norms to test social cohesion and reveal flaws. Without their input, Autochthonian society would stagnate to the point of collapse. Still, most Alchemicals use their skills more to troubleshoot and carry out special missions assigned by the Tripartite (i.e. player stuff); examples that show up in the book include busting cults non-lethally, search and rescue in dangerous areas, and military action (as far as I can tell, despite the fact they were not designed for it, Alchemicals can and do fight against humans and Alchemicals from other nations). State propaganda tends to emphasize their public achievements, though failures and missteps can become national embarrassments. So don’t do that. ![]() Alchemicals need social bonds to stay sane just like the rest of us. Without maintaining friendships or relationships with humans, they gradually succumb to Clarity. Other Alchemicals don’t count; while they can form friendships with each other just like anybody else, they don’t have any effect on Clarity. Relationships have to be managed carefully though, since they tend to disrupt the lives of the other party between people trying to take advantage of them, condescension from those who think the Alchemical is doing their work for them, and even punishments for distracting the Alchemical. Romantic relationships deal with all of the above but even more so, though high-placed Tripartite members usually handle the pressure better since their status can’t go much higher. When it comes to non-humans, Alchemicals seem to possess the status of maybe middle-ranking spirits; they do get some deference both to their power and their importance to maintaining Autochthon, but as inherent subordinates to human leaders they have no real command in the spiritual hierarchy and can be ordered around by major spirits (even though an assembly can usually take one down in a fight). No word on befriending/seducing spirits for Clarity-alleviating purposes. Is that even a thing in the Exalted universe? I don’t know. When it comes to powerful spirits, though, they have a special thing when it comes to Exalted. See, I mentioned there being six blueprints (not all of which were used for Exalted in Creation), but Autochthonians only have access to five of them. The last caste, the Adamants, are secret servants of the Divine Ministers made… Somehow, I don’t think the book elaborates what the Alchemical creation proIncess is like when it doesn’t involve the Sodalities. They act as a mixture of shock troops and secret agents among humans. To Autochthonians, Adamants are the sort of fairy tales you tell the children to make them behave, but they definitely exist. The fact that they are supposed to be secret doesn’t prevent them from joining assemblies later on, of course; you can’t have that restriction on a party. While there are a few stable societies based out of Alchemical cities away from the eight nations, none of them have access to their own Alchemicals (though they often have the means to pull it off and many are considering it). Most Alchemicals beyond the eight nations are Apostates: followers of the Void, the closest thing Autochthonia has to Satan. Most local theologians believe Autochthon floats in basically outer space and the Void is what happens when it leaks in. This is wrong. There is nothing outside of Autochthon, as he’s in a pocket dimension. The Void is what happens when the illnesses Autochthon kept under control with god-Claritin and divine antibiotics back in Creation run out of control. It tends to take over chunks of territory and spread outwards through a mixture of spirits and people that stumble across it, driven by a corruption that in Alchemicals manifests as a disease called Gremlin Syndrome. They become the aforementioned Apostates; they can install dangerous cybernetics called Voidtech that can spread Gremlin Syndrome and gain Dissonance, a pseudo-power stat covered later. In society, Apostates sometimes out themselves and get destroyed, but they often act like stereotypical serial killers; they put up a front of normalcy while doing awful things behind the curtains until someone finally puts the pieces together. Since Alchemicals are contractually obliged to do weird things, those curtains can be pretty thick. Apostates that flee before discovery tend to set themselves up as a mixture of cult leader and petty warlord in the Reaches, leading Gremlins and corrupted humans against healthy parts of Autochthon. The big Void-related bogeyman in Autochthonian right now is Erlik, the City of Ten Thousand Blasphemies: the story goes one that Apostate managed to hit city status and is currently caring his way through the Reaches, corrupting and destroying as he goes. No word from the book on whether it exists or not, but there’s nothing preventing an Apostate from climbing that far, making the concept terrifying to Autochthonians. ![]() Alchemicals never existed in Creation; Autochthon didn’t build any until after he’d left. It’s been so long since then that Autochthonians don’t remember anything about creation except in abstract; even Alchemicals’ soul-borne memories from that far back have usually faded into insignificance, and though there are a few archives and museums deep in Autochthon’s body humans can’t access them. They don’t even believe in plant life. They certainly don’t have any non-Alchemical Exalted there, though a few souls were once Exalted before they got spirited away; one of the big reasons why Estasia tried to conquer Autochthonia way back was because he was a Solar in a past life and he felt that elevated him above everyone else. But since the various Creation Exalted were based off Alchemical blueprints and also because I guess the Exalted devs couldn’t help themselves, if and when Creation Exalted face off against Alchemicals from the equivalent caste, they take penalties to their Limit Breaks (and also have serious déjà vu and symbolic dreams later). The effect doesn’t place any more restrictions on their actions beyond that. Though the book covers this in detail later, between Autochthon’s prep work, how his body works when connected to Creation, and author fiat, when the Seal finally breaks, Alchemicals and other Exalted work equally well in either setting. Most Exalted rules in Creation start applying immediately once the Seal is breached, though no Alchemical can receive an Exaltation of any kind; for instance, Solars can reincarnate in and activate among Autochthonians and Lunars have ways to transform into Alchemicals. The final part of the chapter covers four sample Alchemicals (without character sheets or stats, just descriptions).
So we have a prick, a Mary Sue, an rear end in a top hat, and a flawed but capable young woman trying her best. Alright. Anyway, instead of segueing into character creation at a natural point, next chapter will cover Autochthon’s spiritual hierarchy. Character creation comes after that. Between that, a number of misplaced sidebars, and the way the text rambles from topic to topic, I think this book might be badly organized. Don’t expect these updates to go up this quickly in the future, I’m kind of stunned this one went so fast. I guess this is the power of positive reinforcement ![]()
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Joe Slowboat posted:How dare you insult Voice of Authority, Robocop Batman who was made to be secret police but just loves being Batman too much is fantastic. The important thing about him is that he’s terrible at being Soulsteel Caste; his body was literally forged from the souls of the damned and his angsty anime Bruce Wayne personality is in large part a mismatch with his expected social role, which is why he turns secret police operations into wild chase scenes and spectacular set pieces. The more of the review I write, this more I realize I missed. I completely forgot about that and I’ll include that in the review when we get to that part of the setting book. Autochthon’s inventions backfiring after millennia of no maintenance practically defines Autochthonia. This becomes exceptionally clear in the next section, which frames itself by ennumerating his mistakes when determining how the environment worked. I refuse to back down on Voice of Authority, though ![]() ![]()
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BiggerJ posted:Just discovered that Continuum's lost GM guide was found and scanned in 2015. Holy poo poo. Has anyone read it? From a quick skim it looks pretty solid actually, but I don’t have the context to really judge it.
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![]() Subgods of Autochthonia The comic before this chapter features a kid in a factory daydreaming about boning down with an Alchemical on the production line before somebody wakes him up. It appears a god sent it to him as a reward for his worship. Alright. Autochthon was the greatest inventor in history. Not even his greatest successors could hope to match his breadth of knowledge and sheer mental processing power. But he was never perfect. When he set up the spiritual hierarchy within his body as he prepared to leave Creation, he wanted a system of deities more flexible, efficient, and loyal than the one he already seen collapsing back in Creation. The fact that the section frames itself by enumerating each of his mistakes tells you how successful that effort was. ![]() All Primordials (including Autochthon) have multiple souls. Autochthon had nine, eight advisors plus a core personality. Before departing Creation, the core took the eight satellite personalities and placed two key bindings on their behavior: they could never put anything above the needs of Autochthon as a whole, not even themselves, and they needed to unanimously agree to create any new major spirit. He also basically set them up as a pantheon of individual personalities instead of a bunch of motivations before going to sleep because re-hauling his interior left him all tuckered out. In typical Autochthonian fashion, both of those decisions backfired. On the one hand, while they remain scrupulously loyal to Autochthon, each of these Divine Ministers (his former souls) thinks they are the only smart/motivated/still loyal member of the group and spars with the others for control. As none of them trust each other enough to risk changing the balance of power, Autochthon’s spiritual hierarchy hasn’t been updated in centuries, leaving everything increasingly stagnant and unstable. They’ve all even formed cults that suck prayers away from Autochthon, reasoning they know how to use that power better than their rivals. On top of this, Autochthon rigged up his humans’ religious system to focus on him instead of his components, which developed into a system of mutual disdain; humans usually worship Autochthon first and view the Divine Ministers and their subordinates as aspects of the Maker instead of independent beings, while the Ministers and lesser gods dislike humans and see them as inferiors whose only redeeming feature is that they offer scraps of power (the book compares the relationship to that between prostitutes and their clients). It’s a deeply dysfunctional system that allows Blight zones to spread unchecked as various gods squabble over authority, and it leaves every spirit that succumbs to corruption without a successor to take over and bring things under control. At the top of this hierarchy sits the eight Divine Ministers, Autochthon’s former component souls, now deities in their own right. They have no stats since giving setting NPCs stats is a recipe for disaster. Each embodies and manages a part of Autochthonia that corresponds to their former driving motivation. I’ll be honest: I struggle to tell them apart. I’m not sure why, I think it’s the names. I’ll see if I can keep track through the rest of the review. ![]() The Divine Ministers Domadamod, Debok Moom, Runel, Kek’Tungsssha…
![]() …Noi, Mog, Kadmek, and Ku, with the Core hanging above them Now that I’ve written that out, I understand the differences between them way better. Funny how that works. And now we enter the closest thing this book has to a bestiary. Below the Divine Ministers sit a series of “subroutines” (spirits). Upon creation each spirit is assigned to the service of one of the Ministers, and since any Minister gaining a powerful new servant can shift the balance of power between paranoid beings no one’s made any new major spirits in centuries. Autochthonia being Autochthonia, spirits are organized in a three tier system (technically, there’s a fourth tier that contains the Divine Ministers, though no one really bothers with that) based on their power and influence. The highest are Gamma Class, powerful gods with a great deal of freedom to act. They act as a mixture of advisors, assistants, and direct subordinates to the Divine Ministers, with the given example being Mog’s spymaster, a spirit powerful enough to start his own cult on the down-low. Betas are fully intelligent and often important, but they lack the freedom to act and broad influence that characterizes gammas, usually managing a specific purview. The book presents two examples, the goddess of prophecy and of the god of teaching magic (not using it, he sucks at that). At the bottom rest the Alphas, a mixture of minor gods in charge of specific places and “mechanical gods” that perform menial duties; if the Divine Ministers are the board of directors, Gammas are VPs and middle managers, and Betas are store or shift managers, Alphas work minimum wage. Some alphas are animating intelligences, spirits created by humans as part of manufacturing objects (yes, AIs, though they tend to be somewhat unstable and not very smart), while others are minor gods of very specific places or ideas. The book gives the example of the spirit assigned to oversee a specific water purification plant. ![]() Then we transfer into the local inorganic equivalent of fauna, though the distinction between these robots and spirits is fuzzy. They even use the same tier system. The weakest ones are biomechanoids, essentially animal species with specific assignments in Autochthon’s body such as passive information gathering for the gods or performing on-the-spot repairs (including on unfortunate humans in the area). Above them are Custodians, larger robots designed to fulfill some specific role, such as oil filtration or local defense, and beyond them are Destroyers, machines designed to do exactly that on a large scale. Each Destroyer is unique and can call upon a wide variety of powers and Charms. The example Destroyer is the animating spirit of a sonic cannon. Next up are elementals, and… Have I mentioned this book is a bit disorganized? They pick this point to describe the Elemental Poles, how they work, and what kind of spirits live there. While I could go into detail now, when I get to the setting book I’ll just have to go back and recontextualize everything anyway. I’ll describe the elementals then. The last group described here are gremlins, which receive no examples; any of the above spirits and robots could run into a blight zone and get gremlinized. Rumor has it that even the Divine Ministers might be susceptible to corruption, though there’s no reasonable way to confirm it. ![]() Next up are various Charms available to Autochthonian spirits, including one that lets you eat other spirits and gain health and another that turn someone into a crystal (the victim can be revived with sufficiently powerful magic if it gets to them within 24 hours). But instead of ending here the chapter veers into a discussion of Drones, humans possessed by Autochthon’s spirit. They don’t answer to the Ministers, mortal authorities, or anyone else; they seem to follow orders from Autochthon himself somehow. The spirits find this unnerving, but since it seems genuine and they frequently show up to help the Ministers out, they don’t cause a fuss. Drones lack free will or volition, being controlled by a being incomprehensibly more powerful than them. However, they can pull from variety of powerful abilities ranging from being immune to environmental hazards to electrocuting anything that touches them, live longer than normal, and can be released from service and return to normal life, bringing extensive magical and technical knowledge with them. The takeaway here? Autochthonia is what happens when a machine goes for 5000 years without maintenance. Next up is character creation, power stats, and for me the single biggest surprise in the book. Falconier111 fucked around with this message at 04:43 on May 27, 2020 |
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Oh, since the next chapter is character creation, I should poll the thread. Does anyone have any ideas for a character they’d like me to try and make?
Falconier111 fucked around with this message at 05:56 on May 26, 2020 |
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The Lone Badger posted:Cyborg DJ who keeps the populace in line with the power of beats. The question remains: Voice of the Man, or Voice of the People? Midjack posted:Autocthonia sounds like it’s another inevitably hosed setting like the prison ship in Abandon All Hope. No, actually. While everything is kind of hosed and coasting towards destruction, the setting has a billion different ways to measurably and permanently change things. Clear out a blight zone? Autochthon’s body grows over untainted injuries, so now you have a place for your city to harvest rare metals from. Fix the Ewer of Souls? No more stillbirths and society is viable in the long term again. Given how interconnected and favor- based Autochthonian society is both among humans and spirits, every achievement nets you friends and influence you can use elsewhere, so assemblies seem like they snowball quickly. Basically every issue can conceivably be solved by PCs. Worst case they pop the Seal and flee into creation. The issue is less that you can’t fix everything and more that there’s so much to fix, but then that’s how you make a long campaign viable. Basically, what Joe Slowboat said. E: Night10194 posted:Humble nutrient vat worker who has developed a stirring-stick based martial art of incredible power and subtlety. Confirmed for one of their past lives.
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IshmaelZarkov posted:Some real Demon: the Descent vibes off that. You let them get into Autochthonia from the outside!? How dare you!?!? But yeah, is there anything in particular you’d like me to bring up in the course of the review?
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Joe Slowboat posted:Can I request not this, we get enough of this IRL and while it’s always fun to see Jordan Peterson as a Seer of the Throne or whatever, Autochthonia doesn’t deserve this kind of shabby treatment for the literal first example character in depth :p Well, the character’s already half written anyway so it’s too late for me to include it.
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![]() Chapter 3: Character Creation And now, after I promised to run you guys through character creation, I realize I don’t have the core book and only know the storyteller system in abstract. Instead of sinking however much money I don’t have into buying the book, I’ll fake it with my general knowledge, the character sheet in the back, and the fact that Autochthonia is pretty self-contained mechanically. It’s not like I’m ever going to use this character, and I’m sure the thread can tell me where (not if) I go wrong. The chapter intro comic focuses on a pair of Sodality technicians putting the finishing touches on an Alchemical. In between detailed shots of all the machinery, one vaguely mentions his Alchemical fetish and says they always look like women to him before they wake up while the other takes potshots at him. The final panel features the Alchemical waking up: she is, in fact, a woman. ![]() Alchemicals, by design, stand apart from Autochthonian society even as they embody it. In a society where survival rests on obedience, efficiency, and thoroughness, they innovate, experiment, and challenge those around them. On the other hand, they spend most of their time defending the status quo in countless ways at the behest of the Tripartite. This contrast, the tension between freedom and duty, defines the Alchemical experience. But whether they favor protecting the community, embracing personal freedom, or trying to strike a balance between the two, their actions are as overwhelming and world-shaking as of those of any other kind of Exalted. When you make a character, the book advises you to emphasize that last fact, not the strangeness of the world around them, while coming up with a basic concept. However, once you’ve chosen an archetype you should tie it into the setting in an appropriate way; if you want to be a monster hunter, make yourself a gremlin hunter, say. Their name should reflect their concept and their personality; he book describes Alchemical names as “half personality summary and half military weapon designation” in a sidebar that includes the names of several currently prominent Alchemicals as exampl– ![]() Wait, is that… ![]() No, wait, it can’t be – ![]() ![]() I mentioned in the first post the bulk of my exposure to Exalted came from some fan stuff. Keychain of Creation is that fan stuff. That webcomic is a landmark of Exalted fandom online, detailing the physical and personal journeys of several Exalted through huge chunks of Creation. I’ve loved it for years. Elegant Nova of Progression shows up part way through as an Alchemical who fell through some hole into Creation and set up her own successful microstate, and she makes for a compelling half-amusing, half-threatening antagonist. The devs seem to have confirmed her presence in the book as a deliberate reference to the comic; apparently more than one were already fans. Unfortunately the comic has been been discontinued: the author seems to have developed severe tendinitis and dropped off the face of the Internet, his last confirmed sighting being maybe half a decade ago. No one knows what happened to him. Anyway, Alchemicals emerge from the vats with fully formed adult personalities. That’s not to say they didn’t have childhoods, though; in fact, they had several (and I just realized this is an echo of Autochthon’s multiple-souled nature, good job devs). Their personalities are composites of half-remembered past lives assembled into a coherent piece at the end of the Expectation process without them bothering with any identity confusion or dysphoria. These lives serve as character hooks, both providing players with ways to get a handle on their character and giving GMs the opportunity to reveal details about them at suitably dramatic intervals. Both of these angles offer ways to explain gaining new skills too. Next up is their caste, determined by the dominant magical material in their construction, which has a greater effect on their capabilities then Exaltations do in Creation. Instead of the mental-physical-social attributes choice you get in most White Wolf games, a character’s caste provides them with a set of three attributes (one from each category) to treat like their primary category; you then choose three other attributes as favored attributes and let the rest sit at the bottom of the heap, assigning dots to them like you would to categories in vanilla. And then you add a dot to an attribute in the first or second tiers because you’ve earned it. Next up are abilities, which work like in the base book, and Backgrounds and Charms, which have their own chapters and quirks so I’ll cover them later. After that you determine their Virtues (the same as in Creation) their Intimacies (same as in Creation, but since emotional bonds interface with Clarity, the book recommends you record the emotional context behind each one), and their Essence, Willpower, and Health. Work in your bonus points, double check and fluff out the result, and you’re done. ![]() Exemplar of Unfailing Rhythm remembers many prior lives, the same as every Alchemical, but the bulk of her personality draws from three. The most recent, a Yugashi Populat sanitation worker named Richa, was demoted to Lumpen after being falsely accused by an experienced Colossus of hoarding. Accepting his fate with stoic determination, he dedicated himself to caring for his stirring-stick, the only possession he was allowed to keep, before his isolation got to him; he started believing it carried an animating intelligence that wanted him to use it as a weapon. For years Richa obsessively practiced in secret in an abandoned tunnel deep within the metropolis, developing forms and techniques on his own, until a Clamaki raiding party encountered him while trying to infiltrate it from beneath. When he arrived to investigate the sounds of combat, that same Colossus found Richa taking down the last of over two dozen trained soldiers, still fighting despite the severity of his wounds. Richa never fully recovered from his fight, but the Colossus cleared his record and ordered his status restored. By the time he died four years later the two had become very close and Richa’s staff-based Redemptive Sanitation Style had been incorporated into Yugash’s training regimen. The former Colossus’s sanitation district now carries his name. Rhythm derives her dedication, empathy with the Populat and Lumpen, and selflessness from him. The second personality, an Orichalcum caste named Uplifting Touch of Chrome, lived over 2000 years ago in Nurad, back when it was still a functioning society. The rare Alchemical to lack a gender identity, Chrome dedicated themself to raising morale in their city, eventually developing an obsession with two things: music and sex. They proved themselves capable with both, too, and productivity rose wherever they spent their time. Unfortunately they had a habit of flouting authority well beyond what was acceptable even for an Alchemical, and if they hadn’t died rescuing members of their nascent cult from a factory collapse they may have gone too far. Rhythm borrows their love of life, desire to help others, and fascination with music (but not so much sex). But her fascination with music goes deeper. She thinks that last life was at least as far away from Chrome as she is from them. She doesn’t know their name, gender, or nation, nor much about their personality. She thinks they were one of the first Alchemicals and that they were only a few generations removed from Creation, though either of those facts might be wrong. All she has is a mixture of brief, indistinct impressions and memories of Chrome remembering them, except for one thing. They were the last Autochthonian to remember a musical technique from Creation, one lost in the chaos of Autochthonia’s early days. The force of that memory has pierced through the fog to form the foundation of her worldview (if asked about it, she’ll ruefully admit it’s probably more important to her than it was to them). She has more on her mind than just music and doesn’t dwell on it much, but her goal remains clear: she wishes to bring syncopation back to the peoples of Autochthonia. ![]() Rhythm is a Jarishian Jade caste standing at around 5’8’’ and almost half as wide; she has the broad, muscular build of an idealized Populat laborer and can certainly fill the part. She wears a mixture of factory-issue protective gear and the bright clothing of a Lector, and she tends to shout and emotes with her hands when she talks. When not working with her assembly, she spends her time composing and singing her compositions on the patropolis’s PA/radio system, chatting up members of the Theomachracy (including her on-again off-again Lector boyfriend), and trying to re-create Redemptive Sanitation style from memory with the aid of the local military. Friendly and accommodating by nature, she can suddenly and dramatically lock down if she feels she’s being pushed too far, and when she focuses on something, she will ignore everything beyond her objective until someone snaps out her out of it. Rhythm sees the world as just that: a river of repeating patterns, some beautiful and some dissonant, that combined to make a massive, complex harmony. Though it comforts her in some respects, her worldview doesn’t tell her what notes she should be playing, and she is prone to freezing up if her efforts backfire. This leads to tension with her assembly, who see her as noncommittal and hesitant. Right now she’s dealing with the attention of the local Celebrant, a deeply conservative woman with serious musical chops of her own; she’s the sort of person who can play something passé so well it moves people who’ve heard the piece a million times to tears. Right now, she just wants to get the Celebrant to back down and allow her to explore syncopation on her own terms while keeping her life in order. But in the long run she wants to figure out her place in the great Autochthonian harmony, and she’s already starting to suspect that harmony’s completely out of tune. Every caste has three favored attributes: Jades get Stamina, Charisma, and Wits. Rhythm’s reasonably sharp and tough, but her real emphasis is on inspiring and moving others. She’s also strong, nimble, and able to process what she sees quickly, but she isn’t natively intelligent and lacks the guile and attraction factor many Alchemicals have. In game terms, she has Strength 3, Dexterity 3, Stamina 3, Charisma 5, Manipulation 2, Appearance 2, Perception 3, Intelligence 3, and Wits 3. Alchemicals distribute 25 points between abilities as they like, but designing her character took longer than I anticipated, so instead of enumerating all of her skills and the reasoning behind them I’ll just say she’s good at the talkin’ and the singin’ and the martial artsin’ and the invesitgatin’ (gotta keep your lyrics topical after all). I’ll include an overhauled version of the skill list once I hit the end of this book. She’s a good person and she believes in her mission to understand the world, but she doubts her ability to do so; her Virtues are Conviction 1, Compassion 3, Temperance 2, and Valor 2. I think that gives me three Intimacies, so those will be her boyfriend/it’s complicated, that Celebrant, and the concept of syncopation. Next up comes Background selection, but since that has its own chapter, I think we’ll cover it then. That was a lot of words for seven pages of chapter.
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GimpInBlack posted:I don't know how much of it was lazy saga authors vs. just the reality of travel in early medieval Scandinavia, but yeah. Yggdrasil even points out that the inland terrain is so nasty (at least in Norway and Svithjod--Denmark's islands are much easier to trek across) that, even if the straight-line overland route is much shorter, it probably won't be any faster than sailing, and by sailing you're far more likely to actually reach your destination. If I remember my Dorsey Armstrong right, the rule of thumb for medieval Europe is 1 day at sea=9 days on horseback=21 days on foot. And that’s in the fertile parts of Western Europe.
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![]() Chapter 4: Traits The chapter opens with an Apostate torturing a Sodality member (the singular is Sodalt, apparently); he wants to know how to make new Alchemicals and thinks one of the people who made him can tell him how. He can’t for reasons covered in this chapter. Then Nelumbo sweeps in to rescue him, showing off her legs in the process, and kills the Apostate. She then leaves him bandaged up in a dark room and hallucinating her presence. What a sympathetic character! As they are ultimately derived from Creation, distant as it is now, Alchemicals function on the same principles as any other character in Exalted. They even use the same skill list. I guess you could use Sail in the oceans of the Pole of Oil. However, their backgrounds function differently, as well as their morality stat and their bodies (obviously). For some reason, the chapter on Traits starts out by describing Alchemical biology. All Alchemicals come out of special vats, and almost every city has at least one set (some have as many as five). Each set counts as a Municipal Charm, though usually most of those vats are inactive while the city directs its Essence elsewhere (the ways in which Alchemicals use charms are covered next chapter). If it really needs to, a city can power up all of its vats at once and brew up one Alchemical in each per dot of Essence, which means really powerful cities can produce as many as 50 Alchemicals a year. Curiously, the book implies most cities always keep at least one set of vats running, and given how long Alchemicals last that means most cities might have hundreds running around; I’m not sure if that’s syntactic ambiguity or writers failing to do math, though. It is possible to build vats in Creation with access to an extremely powerful Manse and Resources 5, but they won’t work unless Autochthon’s awake and in Creation to facilitate the process. Since the Sodalities aren’t aware of that detail, if they tried to go through with the process there they’d end up with some hilariously costly failures. ![]() The Exaltation process changes the materials used in Alchemical construction into something greater. As obviously inorganic as they are, they count as living beings for any effects that make that distinction, and upon completion their bodies change further to match their identity (including sexual characteristics, which is why that technician from the last chapter didn’t know what sex that Alchemical would turn out to be). If they die, though, they break back down into their component materials, which if collected are worth Resources 5. Alchemicals bleed oil and store their Essence in liquid form at the heart of their body. They don’t need to breathe, which means they can’t drown or inhale airborne poisons, and ordinary disease can’t affect them (supernatural diseases can). They need to sleep as much as anybody else and though they don’t strictly speaking need food or water, starvation or dehydration will seriously impact their performance; they normally heal like Solars, but as they starve their ability to gain Essence back and heal drops until they lose the ability to do either of those until they get something in them. They can go way longer than humans without sustenance, though. If they need to heal or get essence quickly, they can go for a dunk in the vats and get a repair and recharge. They also use the vats to spend experience on anything except Abilities, Willpower, and Virtues; they need to spend weeks getting refitted by Sodality technicians for anything except raising Essence, which requires both meditation and simultaneous extensive refits. At Essence 6, Alchemicals turn into giant robots at least 15 feet tall; they call these Colossi, and an Alchemical needs at least 100 years of experience just to survive the process. They undergo a similar transformation at Essence 7, becoming even bigger in exchange for surviving even longer. After about 500 years, a Colossus can increase their Essence further by mustering a bunch of followers, following signals from Kadmek until they hit a likely spot, and turning into a nascent city; they sink a bunch of drills and sensors into the nearby metal, dissolve their bodies into a concentrated core (from then on the CPU of the city) and after the obligatory symbolic eight months they unfold into a metropolis or patropolis. Though this technically isn’t the correct terminology, I’ve stuck to calling these cities instead of either of those terms to ![]() If you are familiar with Exalted Backgrounds, you already know how Allies, Contacts, and Mentors work for Alchemicals (though Adamants get a free Mentor of at least three dots to represent their divine patron). Artifacts work similarly, but in Autochthonia they’re cheaper, more powerful, and technically state property (though between social pressure and propaganda benefits they’ll never force them to give them back). Backing only barely exists, given how rare independent organizations are in Autochthonia, and Cults rarely form between official prohibitions and Autochthonian religion focusing on the Great Maker. As the situation gets more desperate that last one might shift, though. You can have a Familiar, but given Autochthonia, they have to be a spirit of some kind and they almost certainly were assigned to you by the Divine Ministers in exchange for service. Manses don’t exist (they don’t have equivalents in Autochthonia unless it breaches Creation), and if you take Command works like it does in Creation with elite soldiers, even though they treat it as a new Background Speaking of which, this book comes with a whole grip of new Backgrounds. Unless they are Adamants dealing with outcast colonies Followers, Influence, and Resources aren’t available to PCs; they all get folded into a new background called Class. Class covers a person’s position in Autochthonia’s social hierarchy and given how the state assigns subordinates, changes a person’s power depending on their pull in the class system, and gives people stuff depending on their ranking instead of their property or income, none of them apply directly. For all that Autochthonian life is rigid and exhausting, they are actually pretty good at providing for their people; those with Class 1 or 2 have a standard of living that equates to someone in Creation with a dot beyond that in Resources, and even the Lumpen get a dole worth Resources 1. They have to live in crowded dorms, though. Alchemicals get Class 3 for free, and with it they get their own teeny apartments, the right to requisition anything worth up to Resources 4 with Tripartite approval, and a small staff (humans get the same but have to share apartments). Both Alchemicals and humans at the next level get a townhouse to themselves as well as more access to resources and a bigger staff, while someone with Class 5 can live sumptuously and get their hands on almost anything. You can also use Background points on Charms (gives you more charm slots), Eidolon (lets you use memories from past lives to stave off Clarity), and Savant (you have some deep connection with Autochthon that gives you bonuses to rolls in a certain field, only accessible to Alchemicals, Sodalities, and I think ex-Drones) And only now do we reach castes. Each caste has an Anima effect that gives them bonuses and flashing lights whenever they spend Essence, favored Attributes, and a whole mess of fluff. ![]() Solars were designed to rule over and command humans in Creation, but their Orichalcum equivalents in Autochthonia are more “lead by example” types. The previous lives of Orichalcums generally include not just leaders or heroes, but people who did something big and new successfully: think reformers and and famous inventors of various stripes. More ordinary great leaders don’t hurt, though. Given how Autochthonian society works, that usually means their past selves were Tripartite members, leaving them detached from the Populat and self-absorbed. And oh man are they full of themselves; they have a habit of trying to take over anything they get involved with and try to lead their assemblies whether their fellow Alchemicals like it or not (or whether they can handle it or not). Their background means they tend to go heavy into technological development as they get older, culminating in cities that are as much research labs as urban areas. Orichalcums tend to look like a mad scientist had a one night stand with the concept of gaslight fantasy; lots of brass, glass over bubbling liquids and gears, and lightning sparking out every time they use their powers. By spending Essence they can weaponize that lightning and add some damage to their attacks, too. Being robo-Gryffindors, they favor Strength, Charisma, and Intelligence, anything that lets them accomplish great feats. ![]() Moonsilvers are the local equivalent of Lunars with a heavy emphasis on stealth and information gathering. Moonsilvers needs souls who were innovative in a different way from those of Orichalcums; the sort of people who come up with crazy ideas that just might work. They tend to combine a trend towards introspection with their speed of thought to become specialists in roles ranging from frontline fighters to spies, though they often find ways to apply their skills in that field in different but analogous situations; they tend to shun leadership roles. As they get more powerful, Moonsilvers either start deploying information-gathering drones or become a bizarre cross between undetectable assassin and killer robot, eventually unfolding into cities that strike the balance between constantly watching everyone and being nice about it. They tend to look more organic and smoother than most Alchemicals, ranging from looking like Noi in the picture I posted in Chapter 2 to something on the more benign side of H. R. Giger, and when they spend enough power they basically cast Haste on themselves. As they lean towards adapting quickly to any situation, they favor Dexterity, Appearance, and Wits. They are cross between Slytherins, sneaksmen, specialists, and the devs’ inability to pin them down to a coherent concept. Others will probably disagree, though. ![]() While Jades formed the basis for Terrestrial Exalted, they have a significantly more egalitarian outlook. They come from souls that at various points put others ahead of themselves to their own detriment, whatever the stakes; someone who saves their patient at the cost of their life is as suitable as the guy who always takes on everyone’s shifts when they get sick. Jades are idealized members of the Populat; humble, cooperative, personable, and highly skilled, they tend to spend their offtime working with ordinary people to make their lives better and usually resist Clarity because of the connections they form, though they can be the rare Alchemical who gets too attached; sometimes, you have to make a sacrifice for the greater good, and Jades suck at that. They tend to be tanks in combat and the emotional heart of their assemblies out of it, and they continue supporting others as they grow; Jade Colossi often become a mix between moving fortifications and construction equipment, while the urban layout and infrastructure former Jades produce usually get copied in part or wholesale by other cities later on. They usually look like a person-shaped chunks of jade wearing relatively little clothing; when they expend their power the air around them takes on their coloration in geometric patterns and their resistance to damage climbs in proportion. Being the kind of people who mix leadership with toughing things out, and also because they are Hufflepuffs except cooler, they favor Stamina, Charisma, and Wits. ![]() Starmetals, like their Sidereal cousins, like to work behind the scenes. These guys make and carry out plans, collate information, and manage spy networks. In previous lives they were innovators who, unlike Orichalcum leaders or Moonsilver last-chancers, broke new ground of their own volition, with or without prior authorization. Think the soldier who takes command on sheer force of personality and wins despite ignoring the chain of command, or a religious leader that realizes their followers are about to fall into heresy – not already fallen, not vulnerable to, but early enough in the process to both keep their congregation together and uncover the reasons behind their fall. As Alchemicals, they tend to trust their judgments over those of others (sounds like Sidereals), act on their assumptions before anyone else can point out their flaws (still sounds like Sidereals), and end up watching in dismay whenever their actions backfire and send their plans slamming into each other like a line of people in an old cartoon when the one in the front stops (definitely sounds like Sidereals). Still, their plans usually work, and in assemblies they excel in behind-the-scenes support of various kinds ranging from mission control to political dealmakers. In spite of their general sneakiness, they hold a lot of cachet with the Autochthonian public – not just because, you know, they handle their own spin, but because they cultivate an image of being the sneakiest bastards on YOUR side; it’s hard to be afraid of a troll if they spend their time punking people you don’t like. Think a mixture of trickster figure, movie hacker, and guardian angel. Of course, Starmetals are Autochthonians, so they focus their plotting on maximizing efficiency by information control; they very rarely lie directly, since if people don’t trust your word it’s harder to get them to follow your plans when they next come up, and that would reduce the effort-to-effectiveness ratio. Starmetals tend to go for a mixture of minimalism and delicacy in their appearance; lots of thin wire and filigree around basic shapes. Their animas are blue and shot through with static, and when they spend enough power they gain an huge bonus to attack and damage roles accompanied by a sort of before-image that shows you what they’re about to do a little too late for you to do anything about it. As Ravenclaws with an eye towards playing people, they favor Dexterity, Manipulation, and Intelligence. I love these guys so much. If I had the chance to play one I’d take it in a heartbeat. ![]() Abyssals don’t exist in Autochthonia, but you need a caste for everybody, so Soulsteels step in to fit the bill. A body made of soulsteel needs a soul with a history of producing hardliners and diehards, regardless of whether their actions were justified or not; think someone who blows up his house to keep a fire from spreading or someone who sparks an international war because the other side isn’t religiously observant enough. Apparently, the body will just eat the soulgem otherwise. I tried to think of a way to describe them that doesn’t boil down to “they are Batman” and if it wasn’t for the fact that they often kill their enemies, I would’ve failed. They hunt down evildoers in secret, dispose of them, and move on, sparing no criminal, no matter their power or status. They even avoid falling in love because ![]() Adamants are not just unique in that they have no Creation equivalent, but in that they exist apart from Autochthonian society. They dedicate their lives to direct service of the Divine Ministers and Autochthon; though they can and do join assemblies informally, they tend to spend time with them only when they are in the field (during which they serve as heavy hitters) until their loneliness gets the better of them. Their soulgems draw upon people who weren’t particularly patriotic but fell just short of religious fanatics, whether they were hermits or major leaders. Not anyone who went so overboard they ended up destroying more than they built, though. They spend their careers hunting gremlins, solving problems, and acting as sort of nonpartisan monitors on human society, and as they grow older they tend to either start leading the Ministers’ armies or act as informal governors of human outcast groups. They tried to avoid the city stage, but when they do finally settle down they turn into big, empty cathedrals that mostly house the vats where rogue Sodalts make more Adamants. They look like riotously beautiful crystal formations and their animas refract light appropriately; they remain secret because their anima effect screws with the memory of everyone present who can’t spend enough Willpower to punch through it. As mixtures of special agents and expensivex jewelry, they favor Strength, Appearance, and Perception. Man, these guys seem like a headache waiting to happen for GMs who have to work them in to a party. And now, Clarity and Mutations. Alchemicals don’t suffer from the Great Curse; instead, as they grow more powerful, the machine side of their personality overwhelms them. They don’t lose sight of their morality, per se, but they do grow really impersonal about it; they perform actions because they have logically reasoned they will lead to a favorable outcome rather than having any emotion behind it. You gain a point of Clarity you can’t dump every time you raise your Essence and while having certain Charms active, while you gain temporary ones for avoiding people and suppressing Virtues; you can lose those temporary points by spending time with people, uninstalling those Charms, and channeling Virtues. As your Clarity climbs, you start taking social penalties and losing the ability to hold Intimacies with increasingly narrow groups. In return, you get equivalent bonuses to dealing with Autochthonian spirits and performing certain mental tasks, and you also get to have more Essence. ![]() Most Mutations present in Creation also show up in Autochthonia (even if they come from different sources), but the book gives us two new ones. You need the first to build a functional Alchemical; once in a while, a worthy member of the Sodalities will find themselves with the ability to channel part of the Exaltation process. As important as their skills are to putting them together, the technicians who perform the process are as much channeling aspects of Autochthon as part of a ritual as they are physically building the Alchemical. Since they don’t actually know how the process works, you can’t learn how to make Alchemicals by learning from them; it’s why the Sodalt in the intro comic wasn’t able to tell the Apostate anything. This mutation also only shows up in Autochthonian humans, no Exalted of any kind, which would complicate any attempts for non-Alchemical PCs to build their own robot friends Finally, we get to see the mechanics for Gremlin Syndrome. It’s a mutation that essentially inverts Clarity; it replaces it with a trait called Dissonance that uses similar mechanics. However, instead of becoming coldly logical and gaining bonuses to interaction with Autochthonian spirits, those with rising Dissonance become impulsively violent, cruel, and prone to randomly destroying machinery and gain bonuses to socializing with gremlins instead. It rises and falls in the same ways. There is no known way to convert Dissonance back to Clarity except euthanasia; even if they want to stay sane, the best an Alchemical with Gremlin Syndrome can do is keep it at bay. Unless, of course, the Solars hit them with enough magical bullshit, because Solars. While I intended to build Rhythm as we went along, I’m finding it a bit taxing to run through character creation in a thoughtful manner while still reviewing the book. I’ll throw the process up in a separate update at the end. Instead, I’ll be devoting next time to forcing my way through the truly colossal Charms list. E: man, it’s only after looking back at this chapter that I realize what a grabbag it is. Every chapter in this book reads like the writers came up with some amazing ideas and free-associated until they had an internal structure. There is a clear logic to it, but it sure ain’t conventional. Falconier111 fucked around with this message at 06:42 on May 28, 2020 |
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![]() Chapter 5: Charms Alright… Okay, look. I am the wrong person to review Charms in an Exalted book. As we’ve established, I don’t know the system well, I don’t have access to the core book and I’m not willing to plunk down ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() The intro comic features a secret theological/political rally being busted by the When it comes to their powers, Alchemicals are defined by the unusual nature of their Charms; each one exists as a physical object installed by Sodality technicians in the vats. Charms are loaded by installing them into Charm Slots, sort of surgical attachment points in their bodies; since they key off Attributes instead of Abilities like Solar Charms, those slots can either accept any Charm or only those with favored Attributes. Though they only work as long as they are physically present in the Alchemical, they can be deactivated, extracted, and stored for later use (though they still count as a part of their body) without any penalty except the time spent performing the process, and most Alchemicals have more Charms than they can use at one time. They can also regrow their Charms in other vats if the originals are destroyed, whether deliberately as part of a move or by enemy action. Or if someone manages to tear them out, at which point they melt down while leaving the Charm Slot full until they get a re-fit. They tend to be pretty specific in their effects, so switching them out for different situations is practically mandatory. Beat up a diplomat, get beat down when they load in their weaponized Tesla coils. ![]() Even inside an Alchemical’s body Charms work differently than in Creation (though some Exalted can use Alchemical Charms if they can find somebody to do the surgery). Instead of combining Charms into combos as normal, they install them as arrays, collections of Charms that cost less experience than normal but can only function when used together; they take up the appropriate number of Charm Slots and can’t be separated, though they can be removed as a whole or upgraded with further Charms. I hear combos suck sweaty rear end in vanilla, so if anyone has input on how they work here I’d love to hear it. Can’t other combos, though, except for martial arts combos which work the same as in vanilla. Finally, if you move around Charms in such a way that you no longer meet their prerequisites, those Charms go inactive and have to be removed to free up the Charm Slot. It’s possible to make your own Charms; you need Crafts, access to Sodality specialists, and of course GM approval, but you can develop them with the right rolls and forethought and install them as you like. You can also customize them in various ways - you can dictate any cosmetic alterations to any Charms you want without penalty as long as it fits the setting aesthetic, but some Charms can be upgraded mechanically too. There are some types of Charm this book does not include despite their relevance to the setting, the big ones being the Municipal Charms that keep showing up in the fluff. These things are so powerful and so beyond the scope of most PCs that the book advises you just not bother with their mechanics, especially because most of them are things like Health-Promoting Filtration Baffles, Industry-Optimizing Timetable Manipulation, and Rat-Slaying Electrification Grid. The only one it shows off in any way is Avatar-Launching Silo, which dispatches copies of the city’s former bodies for various purposes; the avatars behave more like themselves at that stage of development than the city now due to how the city runs them. ![]() Whoops! Can’t show that in an Autochthonian review. For some reason there is a sidebar on Mutations halfway through the chapter; Alchemicals have an easier time resisting them than most, can install them using one of their Charms, only barely affect their Attributes, and can’t reduce their size. Martial arts! Alchemical bodies, being inorganic, can’t properly develop their bodies to use martial arts; instead, they install Charms that let them spend Essence to activate them. That said, they can use almost any martial art as long as it doesn’t require them to transcend their bodies (no Sidereal martial arts here). Alchemicals have access to a bunch of martial arts styles, some of which they inherited from Creation (both Terrestrial and Celestial) and some of which they made themselves; apparently there are a bunch more old ones stored in Autochthon’s memory banks, too, but no one’s made it deep enough into him to find them. Given how many styles they have access to, that raises the question of how long it took to develop all these styles before Autochthon left. When did they have the time? How long did that period last? The two sample Autochthonian martial arts presented here include Thousand Wounds Gear Style, a Celestial style which uses chakrams and leans towards brutalizing and crippling enemies before killing them, and Live Wire Style, a Terrestrial style that is almost certainly a reference to the metalbender cops from Legend of Korra. E: it is not, Korra came out 2 years later and it’s a bizarre coincidence. For how it works, watch a YouTube video of metalbender cops and imagine they electrified their cables. ![]() A few Charms draw upon the Void instead of Autochthon as a source of their power. These Charms, collectively called Voidtech, all started life as custom Charms built by undercover Apostates before their escape, and due to the way Autochthon stores every Charm somebody uploads to his database and doesn’t let anyone delete them, anyone willing to take the plunge might make and install one. Granted, this is highly illegal in every nation, but given how powerful they can be there’s always someone willing to take the risk. Voidtech gives users a temporary form of Gremlin Syndrome that works like normal Gremlin Syndrome but goes away when the Charm is removed, though hitting Dissonance 10 makes it permanent. Voidtech tends to be really powerful, really weird, or both, and it includes both original Charms and Void-tainted upgrades. It can also spread Gremlin Syndrome to Creation Exalted, in which case they gain a Dissonance track that functions as normal. If it spreads to Abyssals in this way (or any other way) they gain a point of Resonance every time they gain Dissonance, and if it spreads to Infernals their masters hunt them down and kill them to keep the disease from spreading. We also learn Autochthon’s Neverborn name would be the Engine of Extinction. Neat! Charms down, thank the Maker. Next time we’ll take a shot at Autochthonian magic and items. E: An example of a notable Charm set: Joe Slowboat posted:So there's one Charm I'd like to mention, which is the Personality Override Spike (and upgrade charms like the Identity Recalibration Signal, Mind-Ripping Probe, and Memory Implantation Surge). Basically, they help outline some of Autochthonia's sorta-cyberpunk fantasy elements and also Autochthonian society's approach to people. These charms are, basically, a soulsteel spike you ram into someone's brain, and then you can either keep them psychically paralyzed or, with the upgrades, rewrite who they are or copy their mind for later questioning. These are cyberpunk as gently caress: They're the Major's hacking from Ghost in the Shell. But they're also, specifically, a metal dagger you punch into somebody that tears into their soul, because this is a fantasy world and Autochthonia only really looks like cyberpunk, when it's actually animist generation ship weirdness, it rules. Falconier111 fucked around with this message at 16:29 on May 30, 2020 |
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Korra postdates Alchemicals? Wild. Live Wire Style was developed by the police and only works when used with long metal wires that attach at the wrists. Granted, other techniques let you electrify those wires so I guess it breaks down on further inspection, but it’s a hell of a coincidence.Joe Slowboat posted:good poo poo Funnily enough, one of the two things I left out when talking about Starmetals (because their entry was already longer than the others) was that they specifically mentioned this Charm. Not by name, but by effect; it’s what they use to make sleeper agents. Do you mind if I add your ![]()
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![]() Chapter 6: Wonders of the Machine God and Chapter 7: Storytelling “Wonders of the Machine God” means spells, equipment, and artifacts. The intro comic features an Alchemical finding the gruesome remains of a repair crew after they got disassembled by a gremlin robot and used as spare parts. She faces it down and prepares for a fight. ![]() So, magic. The Autochthonian equivalent of spells are called protocols (basically subroutines in the overarching programming of Autochthon) and function somewhat similarly to their Creation equivalents (though only Alchemicals with the right Charm can cast them). Magic from either Creation or Autochthonia functions identically in the other because You can find thaumaturgy in Autochthonia, but it’s a rare technique considered inherently corrupting and socially frowned upon unless directly used for the benefit of others. The Sodalities are considered educated enough to handle its influence but anyone else faces at first peer pressure orchestrated by the Theomachracy and eventually the worst punishments they can come up with short of removing a soulgem or exile. The book doesn’t explain exactly why Autochthonians consider thaumaturgy corrupting but it implies it pisses off religious authorities since it doesn’t rely on Autochthon as its source of power. And after having established that, the book lists all the many ways people use thaumaturgy Arts in Autochthonia, though Autochthonia being Autochthonia they call them Sciences.
![]() A quick aside on literacy. One of the reasons thaumaturgy is so rare in Autochthonia is because the Autochthonian language as it’s currently spoken has no written equivalent, just a series of standardized instructional glyphs. All scholars write in Old Realm. When I first read this, I was struck by how impractical that is, both having the language of science being different from the language in which it is implemented and not teaching your workers how to read. Speaking as a historian who’s studied this, there’s a reason industrialization tends to go hand in hand with mass education; it’s a lot more efficient in time, cost, and productivity to teach factory workers how to read and have them use manuals and instructions written on the machines than to have to individually teach each worker how to use each machine, especially if you can make this state do the education it for you. Likewise, if you teach them how to read you can also use that to teach them to do math and understand basic physics and chemistry, which makes complicated machinery a lot easier for them to understand, use, and maintain. It’s one of a number of reasons why school periods resemble factory shifts and so many curricula emphasize STEM. At first I thought it stemmed from one of the natural consequences of widespread literacy, which is the populist political movements that emerge when people realize they’ve been getting shafted and get access to literature that feeds them ideas on what to do next. And hey, that’s probably a part of it, given heresy and Voidbringers. But then I realized: literacy requires education and Autochthonians shove their kids into assembly jobs the moment they can. Their needs are so great they can’t afford to spend time and effort improving productivity in the future if it cuts into productivity now, and that symbolizes why Autochthonian society is failing as well as anything I can think of. ![]() Soulsteel in Creation comes out of the Underworld, but the Underworld postdates Autochthon and his use of the metal significantly. The Soulsteel in Autochthonia comes from another source. See, before he made the Mountain Folk, Autochthon had another set of favorites in the Ereta’een, a species with triangular faces (no further description given) that built a technologically advanced civilization and eventually tried to bind Autochthon, because this is Exalted and hubris is the order of the day. Autochthon instead plopped his body onto their civilization and ate it whole. After digesting them he noticed their remains had congealed into veins of metal with their souls still trapped inside, which he promptly started experimenting with because Autochthon. You can still occasionally see their faces in Autochthonian Soulsteel and hear their quiet gibbering. Autochthon was not a nice person! The last part of this chapter covers Autochthonian tech, and with it various artifacts. Autochthonian society, for all its stagnation, maintains a level of technological advancement Creation hasn’t seen in millennia. Granted, their tech is extremely streamlined, stripped-down, and ugly compared to its earlier Creation equivalents, but in quality it could still probably go toe to toe with them. The big difference is that Autochthonian tech runs off magic instead of physics; their circumstances mean Essence is more efficient for fueling devices than any mundane power source. I said I wouldn’t review any artifacts but I’ll make one exception: soulgems and their mechanics show up in this section. Soulgems are nearly-indestructible precious stones that contain a single soul each; when implanted, they hook that soul up to that of whoever received the implant. Every baby must receive an implant within a week of their birth by law in every nation, and the implanting process consists of driving soulsteel spikes attached to the gym into their skull until they touch the brain (at which point the souls fuse). Apparently, this process inflicts the worst pain physically possible. They do this to infants. Autochthonia everybody! The type of gem determines the caste an Autochthonian is born into: onyx for Populat, ruby for Militate, Topaz for Olgotary, Sapphire for Theomachracy, amethyst for Sodalities, and diamonds for Alchemicals. These castes never change and pretending to be of another cast usually gets a death sentence. The only time anyone willingly destroys a soulgem is when they need to transfer that soul into an Alchemical, creating a new soulgem in the process; as mentioned way back, after a couple iterations those soulgems are usually sent back to the soul reservoir and later reconstituted. ![]() And that’s it for that chapter. Since this post is kind of short and went quickly, I’ll move on to the Storytelling chapter. I like this intro comic most of all. An Alchemical and a diplomat from Creation sit by a little table under a palm tree working out some kind of peace deal. The Alchemical diplomat is struggling with a significant language barrier and talks like a weird mixture of Shakespeare and one of those old Engrish websites, and the Creation diplomat comes across as both a lot more polished and a lot less physically impressive than his counterpart, but they treat others as equals. While the Alchemical diplomat treats their peoples as enemies working towards a truce, the Creation diplomat keeps trying to angle for a closer and more mutually beneficial relationship. The conversation shifts into discussing a prisoner exchange, the Alchemical diplomat offering captives they’d taken in return for rare materials, but the Creation diplomat refuses on the grounds that setting a price for human life opens the door to some horrible things and instead tries to get them released as a prelude to an outright alliance. I love it, it’s two reasonable people doing reasonable things while maintaining solid tension. ![]() The chapter starts out great by encouraging the GM to sit down, discuss the setting with their players, and figure out what exactly they want out of the game; a game about invading Creation is a lot different from one about political debates. It emphasizes pointing out that:
The book presents suggestions for ways to play as Adamants or Apostates. Adamants work best in assemblies of their own, following the orders of one of the Divine Ministers, removing threats, solving problems, and possibly fighting Autochthonian assemblies or even agents of the other Ministers, all broken up by occasional bits of introspection. It also encourages you to use them as a deus ex machina in more standard games whenever your party gets close to defeat in the Reaches, advising you describe them as how your party would remember it through Adamant memory-altering effects while leaving enough clues for observant players to realize something’s up. Apostates also work best in their own assemblies but work better as either tragic heroes or villains. On one hand, while Gremlin Syndrome doesn’t inherently make someone a bad person, it inherently makes them more dangerous; Dissonance pushes you towards pointless violence and causing atrocities by nature and gives you the tools you need to do that. On the other, it is possible to keep it under control to some extent, and even if you fail you can play them as good people forced by fate to do evil things, very Greek tragedy. Or you can play them as straight up villains and go break poo poo, also a viable option. ![]() The rest of the chapter covers Autochthonian interactions with creation, which it sets up as a rough timeline. Autochthon’s existence is so obscure in Creation that you need Lore 5 to know any details about him and Lore 4 and access to serious research material just to find out he exists. It’s not a state secret or anything, it’s just forgotten. Or you can talk to the Mountain Folk. The only people with the whole picture are the gods, and even they don’t know about Autochthonia (or the existence of Alchemicals, for that matter, since they never saw those blueprints actually used). We’ve already covered just how little Autochthonia knows about Creation. But right now every one of the eight nations is drafting up a Charm that can puncture the Seal (Yugash’s Project Razor is the most notable one, covered in the next book), but the moment one nation completes their Charm it becomes available to everyone else due to how Charm archives work. If they do punch a hole into Creation, it’s likely to see eight separate forces spilling out (and given the situation, someone breaking the Seal is nearly inevitable). Once they do, Autochthonians will likely start successful; not really understanding diplomacy, economics, or warfare outside of Autochthonia, they’ll probably start by peacefully stripmining everything they find before attacking and overwhelming anyone who tries to stop them. Given Autochthonian numbers, tech, and Alchemicals, they are likely to succeed. The book dubs this step the Locust Crusade. However, despite their initial success the Autochthonians will inevitably falter: between their unfamiliarity with anything that isn’t Autochthon’s body, the number and strength of Creation’s powers, and their climbing war exhaustion and losses, eventually their will to fight will give out and take both sides to the negotiating table. From there things open up. Both sides have resources the other would fall over themselves to get access: industrial goods, high technology, and dirt-cheap alloys unavailable in creation except from special foundries out of Autochthonia, food, rare minerals, and agricultural products of all kinds out of Creation. The first polities to sign trade deals would vault themselves into prominence, and the book gives several examples of Creation nations that might prove particularly receptive. What it doesn’t touch upon (and since I believe the other book never talks about Creation it wouldn’t say either) is how the eight nations might each respond differently. This section treats Autochthonia as a unified entity from the moment it breaches Creation, but given how much they hate each other, if they all enter separately or somebody can peel a nation or two off the coalition, whichever nation strikes a trade deal first might find itself in an incredibly advantageous position. If, say, Nurad managed to net itself a favorable deal, it could import otherwise cheap products like food (which takes extensive processing just to make edible in Autochthonia but which much of Creation can export in bulk), retool its factories for mass production of industrial goods, trade those comparatively high-tech goods to salivating Creation merchants in return for rare materials and money, and use those resources to outfit their armies and hire mercenaries. It could go from a state on the edge of extinction to a major power, and that’s what the weakest nation could do. The moment any unified effort wavers is the moment Creation forces start sniffing out weaknesses and even invading themselves. Once the Locust Crusade breaks down and people start making deals, the resulting storm of diplomatic chaos and culture clash would make as good a campaign setting (for, say, Solars on the run looking for a state to shelter them) as the initial invasion. The last half of this paragraph is speculation, though. I understand they released a Locust Crusade supplement of some kind, anyone familiar with it would be welcome to talk about it here. ![]() You also get three alternative approaches. The first involves peaceful first contact; instead of trying to invade for resources, Alchemicals break through looking for resources and information they can use to repair Autochthon. As spotty as the records are, Autochthonians doing some deep dives in Autochthon’s archives could piece together just how potent the Solars were at their height and open the seal working for their help. Of course, Creation is a mess compared to what they left behind and the Solars are missing in action, but theoretically they could gather enough Exalted together of every kind in a campaign-friendly manner to bring their God back to life. The second proposes they breach the Seal much earlier and make it into Creation during the First Age. The Deliberative would immediately wipe the floor with any Autochthonian invasion, nixing the Locust Crusade before it starts, so that’s out. On the other hand, it would probably move to either explore or annex Autochthonia, leading to a lot of player-friendly chaos. The last setting, described in extremely vague terms, extends the second scenario into a new version of the Second Age featuring Alchemicals ruling alongside Terrestrials and lots of gremlins and clockwork scattered around Creation. Not much detail beyond that. When Alchemicals enter Creation, they’ll inevitably run into other Exalted of various flavors, and given their familiarity, it’s only a matter of time before they recognize each other as Exalted and start interacting.
Lotta binaries in that list. And a quick section on spending experience and we’re done. The last comic in the book depicts a giant Alchemical head popping out of the dirt and disgorging a bunch of soldiers. The end! ![]() I’m going to save my judgment for the most part until I finish the next book, but I will say, even after going through it in depth, I still love reading through this book (except for the Charms ![]() Speaking of which, I know I promised I’d be building Exemplar of Unfailing Rhythm at the end of this review, but the more I look at the yawning black hole that is Exalted Second Edition rules and meta, the less I want to do with character creation. Not like I could do it justice even if I did. I’d rather not stare into that Abyssal until it stares back at me. Sorry, Rhythm, guess you’ll have to bring enlightenment to Jarish through the power of fresh beats another day. I’d probably just have retooled you into a Starmetal anyway. Since there’s no way I’m getting off this train now, the next post will kick off the review of the next book.
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My understanding was that the Elven pantheon got ported wholesale into 40k and then killed of by the Chaos gods in the backstory. Wouldn’t surprise me to find some stragglers in 40k.
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Time for a new banner.![]() if you’re reading this in the archives you should probably hit the Alchemicals review first, this is a direct continuation. The book starts out with a table of contents and sentence-long descriptions of each chapter. The description for the first chapter references the “uncanny nature” of Autochthonia’s inhabitants. That’s not a very nice thing to say. First intro comic. An Adjudicator calls a ![]() This first chapter is a grab bag that presents a bunch of tangentially related setting info. Autochthonia is a sphere big enough to fit all of Creation suspended in a pocket dimension. However, the vast majority of its population, which is much smaller, lives in the Pole of Metal at its center. The eight nations that live there, collectively called the Octet, live on organ-continents that drift back and forth; whenever two close in on each other, their borders spontaneously develop tram lines that connect them until they drift apart again. Any international travel not involving tram lines falls just short of suicide; once you get out of the settled areas you run into a cross between an abandoned factory and a case, much of which has (OSHA-noncompliant) means of traversal, but between shifting geography and the occasional industrial deathtrap or lightning arc travelers have to remain on their guard or die horribly. Between the constant industrial processes going on in the background and in the cities, Autochthonia is never silent, and its inhabitants find silence eerie and intimidating. Autochthonians divide their day in 25 hours, subdivided into five shifts named after Creation elements; most have two work shifts on and three off, though Lumpen and important workers pull three. Its inhabitants draw their souls from something called the Radiant Amphora of Celestial Accumulation, usually called the Ewer of Souls. I call it the soul reservoir because that’s easier. Upon birth each infant’s soul is examined by the Luminors and evaluated based on records of the soul’s previous achievements; depending on what they find they attach a soulgem of the specific type and cut assigned to their caste to their forehead, locking them into that caste for the rest of their life. Once they die, that soul is extracted from the gem and sent back to the soul reservoir until it reincarnates elsewhere, after which it’s reevaluated and assigned a new caste (or possibly the same one) depending on what happened last time. Trouble is, there’s only a limited number of souls available; Autochthon only took so many souls with them, Autochthonia’s population has been steadily rising throughout history, and Autochthon, who didn’t understand the nature of a soul, set up the reservoir to fuel itself by occasionally eating part of a soul that it can’t regenerate.at this point the number of souls in use and available have evened out. Every child born without a soul dies immediately, meaning the Octet is building up to a population crunch as stillbirths climb. Autochthonian cultures have five formal castes and two informal ones. At the bottom of the heap lives the slaves, extreme criminals (murderers, serial rapists, heretics) who had their soulgems removed as punishment. Slaves are only barely aware of their surroundings; they can’t speak and follow orders without second thought, and between their lack of self-preservation instincts and the way they get used for the most dangerous tasks means few last longer than a few years. Above them are the Lumpen, petty criminals designated for punishment; most of them come from the Populat and get demoted for stuff like repeated minor infractions, light heresy, or letting addiction get in the way of their duties, but Tripartite members can join them if they gently caress up spectacularly. Lumpen lose the right to participate in any public gatherings or activities, own no private possessions, and do unpleasant, repetitive work (though rarely dangerous stuff, that either goes to slaves or well-equipped specialists). As much as everyone beats up on them, Lumpen perform important tasks and screwing with them on the job tends to earn the ironic punishment of Lumpen status, but the authorities don’t care what happens to them as long as it doesn’t get out of hand. They tend to get beat in alleyways a lot. After death, their soul returns to the reservoir, after which it gets assigned a caste as normal (though it probably won’t hit Tripartite). Maybe 90% of Autochthonia’s population belong to the Populat, the vast mass of laborers that push society along. Most of their labor goes towards industrialized prayer and keeping the environment around them healthy (by Autochthonian standards), but a substantial minority makes basically every product the Sodalities don’t claim control over, from simple tools to entire houses. The Populat are also divided into sub-units, but unlike as with the castes class mobility is the order of the day and competence usually gets rewarded by promotion. Most Populat are laborers, who do all the, well, labor; they range from grunt workers to trained specialists and safety inspectors. Laborers are assisted by aides, those who would otherwise be laborers except for health conditions, age, or being pregnant; they act as janitors, clerks, messengers, and even manage child rearing in communal crèches. Laborers and aides are socially equal, especially since members of the former usually end up staffing the latter, but able-bodied aides tend to face a lot of awkward questions. Well-suited workers get promoted to shift chiefs that manage several dozen workers every shift, able shift chiefs get promoted to foremen who manage an entire factory or specific service for an area, accomplished foreman get promoted to supervisors who oversee an entire industry or group of industries (most cities have around eight), and particularly successful supervisors get promoted to directors. Each city has one director, who manages the entire city’s Populat for three shifts a day in exchange for living like a Tripartite member, and an assistant director, who manages the off shifts. At least one week a year (usually several) the director gets vacation time – in other words, he changes to two shifts a day and the assistant director takes the other one over – during which troublemakers tend to crawl out of the woodwork due to perceived weakness. The life of a Populat member is a difficult one, but it isn’t unbearable. I didn’t find info on the structure of an ordinary Populat’s day in this chapter and I’ll update this part of the review when I find it later (no index for me to check), but if I remember right the ordinary worker has one shift on, one shift off, one shift on, and two shifts off, with some time off allowed for sickness, the rare holiday entirely off, and the occasional middle shift on in times of need. Either way, the Populat live in densely packed dorms with token concessions to privacy and most own at most a small box worth of personal goods, though they have all their material needs provided for, from food to clothing (business casual except with rank markers) to medicine. Shifts work, eat, and sleep together (not like that, usually), and most social relationships are formed between members of the same shift. In their time off they play competitive sports with members of their shift against others or do art together (they form poetry clubs, play-reading groups, drum circles, etc.); they also attend plays put on by Lectors and religious services, or just spend time with friends. Music is heavily associated with work songs and prayer sessions and plays tend towards religious themes, but poetry seems to be treated very personally. Long-term relationships and marriage aren’t really a thing in most of the Octet, since work reassignments happen often enough that relationships can be broken up at any time; romance is huge in Autochthonian culture, but they idolize whirlwind romances followed by tragic partings (an omnipresent theme in their art) and consider long-lasting bonds a bit strange. Sex outside of wedlock isn’t stigmatized because, obviously, there is no wedlock, and queer and polyamorous relationships carry no stigma (though apparently the last is unlucky, it doesn’t say why). Instead of being raised in family units, then, children are raised by specialist aides in combination nursery-schools. Some nations encourage parents to play a role in their kid’s childhood, but most don’t. Obviously, religion plays a huge role in everyone’s lives with a more utilitarian and direct emphasis than most religions; they fuel Autochthon’s functions with their prayers and they know it. They view the whole world as a hierarchical structure, ranging from the Great Maker down to the lowest Lumpen, and their religion holds the concept together. When it breaks down heresy and Voidbringer cults tend to creep in. ![]() The rest of the population is divided between the three parts of the Tripartite, each of which has its own logic, structure, and set of tasks. Each city has its own Tripartite Assembly consisting of the city Autocrat (head of the Oglotary, one vote), Celebrant (head of the Theomachracy, one vote), and Sodality Council (the heads of all five Sodalities, have to share a vote), which vote on policy issues; each nation also has a National Tripartite Assembly which uses the same methods cities used to elevate leaders on a larger scale and likewise vote on national issues. The word “vote” has already lost meaning and I’m not even done with it. The Olgotary is the formal government of every community, running the bureaucracy and setting internal policy in every field the other two organizations don’t control. I think the author was probably American because it closely resembles the American three-branch system. The Oglotary has four subsections:
The Theomachracy exists to bridge the gap between humans and the spirits around them as well as keeping the community from losing its focus, whatever that happens to mean. They are likewise divided into four branches:
The Five Magnificent Sodalities of Penultimate Truth and Intrastringent Gospel; drat, what a name. The cultural descendants of those technicians Autochthon taught how to make Alchemicals, who founded guilds that were later subsumed into the Autochthonian caste system. I said they functioned like medieval guilds and I meant it; they hold their knowledge close, compete with each other for influence, and police their own, dealing out rather gruesome punishments as they see necessary. The other parts of the Tripartite kind of let them do their own thing since they’ve given up on forcing them to work with other parts of the government outside the Assembly and the places their technical abilities are needed. They all dress like Populat members but wear decorations in their team color. Must be awkward during Assemblies when the two most important people in the room are the only ones stark naked. Each Sodality is connected with a color and magical metal (corresponding with an Alchemical caste) and sense they punish members by stripping away (because the Sodalities are the kind of organization that can be classified by how they mutilate members that step out of line).
Info on the life of Tripartite members is thin on the ground compared to that for the Populat. They usually don’t live alone, but instead of dormitories with a few dozen neighbors they share the room with one or two roommates for low-ranking ones. They can eat their own secluded dining halls alone or with a few friends, work in small groups, and own luxury or bulky goods; all their privileges scale with their rank, until Autocrats and Celebrants get their own palaces with personal staffs. In a given city each branch has its own assigned lector (presumably with a substantial budget) and its members sometimes have enough pull to form permanent romantic relationships and prevent their partners being moved elsewhere. Sodalts tend to only associate with other members of their Sodality, but the other two branches seem a little looser in who they befriend and talk to. ![]() A few people live outside of the cities in shantytowns or mobile camps; Octet Autochthonians call them tunnel folk or tunnel outcasts and tend to see all of them as desperate, starving nomads, criminals outcast or escaped from justice killing and eating travelers before dying after a few years of terrified whimpering in the dark. A few are like that, yeah, and they can and do use travelers as a handy food source, but most live in communes, small settlements with at most a few hundred people crouching near a food and water source. People here focus far more on the individual then any Octet city; they raise families, follow charismatic leaders, and own (tiny amounts of) individual property in their own right instead of by the sufferance of the local government. On the other hand, they lack the infrastructure or technical knowledge to maintain a standard of living anything like you can find in a city, tend to fall under the control of particularly brutal leaders, and face turf wars with spirits, other tunnel communes, or even Octet explorers or Voidbringer cults. The Octet and tunnel folk both value and hate each other; Octet explorers like using them as guides in exchange for cheap trinkets but hate them on ideological grounds, while tunnel folk desperately want Octet goods but hate their arrogance and power and cruelty and having all this stuff we want. Communes within reach of the Octet tend not to last long before the Regulators decide the settlement is too big or too aggressive or just inconvenient to have around and they burn it to the ground. Don’t worry, though, they only slaughter the adults; they take the children back home and reeducate them! Finally, we have Voidbringers. Autochthonians think of things in terms of hierarchies, so they assume they all belong to a single Voidbringer Sect, which you know is wrong if you’ve been keeping up with the Alchemicals review. Cults not only threaten the lives of Octet citizens but their society’s underpinnings; if groups are capable of challenging a central authority without a central authority of their own, then a centralized authority isn’t necessary to hold society together - and if that’s true, it means the social fabric that holds the Tripartite-Populat system together might unravel, breaking the flow of prayers as societies breakdown and eventually killing Autochthon. As things develops and the facts of the Void situation become clearer, that fabric will start to unravel anyway, and already the people who fight it have realized Voidbringers come in four very different flavors (each of which have their own story hooks!).
One final note: once the Seal breaks, people in Autochthonia will immediately start Exalting. Autochthonians are used to Exalts that are born strong and fall due to personal failings instead of weakness; almost every other Exaltation arises from a moment of failure, whether it’s losing hope or losing your life. Autochthonia demands success and regards failure as a threat to existence. As such, Exaltation is a lot more likely to hit in the Far Reaches or on the battlefield or among people of all kinds trapped in lowly positions by Autochthonian society, leaving people potentially more powerful than even the Alchemicals scattered among populations that aren’t supposed to raise in status until after they die. They don’t even have the context to understand what’s happening, let alone control it; it would take some extreme digging even to isolate Estasia’s connection to the Solars, let alone gather info on any other type. It’s entirely possible Autochthonia’s salvation may be built by Exalted who are not Alchemicals. But whatever happens, it’s another massive variable thrown into an already unstable equation. ![]() My impression? No wonder nationalism is so popular. People like to hitch their identities on things that both make them unique from most others and tie them to a few; families, religions or religious subgroups, political groups, and even sports teams can serve as building blocks for the complex hybrid identities most people gradually assemble. But there are no families in Autochthonia, only one religion without room for personalized beliefs, exactly one political ideology, and no team sports outside of temporary teams broken up whenever the situation demands. Even most personal relationships dissolve whenever someone gets transferred. Nationalism’s practically the only thing people can cling to, and most people won’t meet anyone from outside the nation to define themselves against. It’s a situation tailor-made to break down a person’s individuality and sanity. For all its virtues – and they do exist – Autochthonian society is a ticking time bomb waiting for some ideology to sweep through or form among the disenfranchised and explode in the faces of every Tripartite member. I probably would write more but this bastard’s already broken 4300 words and I’m a bit tuckered out. Also, I would have included more art but that’s literally everything in the chapter. Next time will cover the two dominant nations in Autochthonia, Yugash and Clamat. E: forgot to do this last time; if anyone wants to bring up interesting Autochthonian items or artifacts, now is the time! Falconier111 fucked around with this message at 04:58 on May 31, 2020 |
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Can anyone here do a quick rundown on the nature of souls and ghosts in Exalted? I haven't been able to wrap my head around the subject and the next part of the review heavily involves them.
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Ithle01 posted:I think Falconier meant the higher and lower souls. Everybody has a lower soul, the Po, which is basically your id and resides in your body and also the higher soul, the Hun, which is your intellect and what most people think of as 'themselves'. When you die your hun goes on to get reincarnated or goes to the Underworld if you stay behind as a ghost. Being a ghost sucks for a lot of reason, but I'll move past that for now. Meanwhile, your Po stays in your body and, if not properly placated with funeral rites might go on a murderous rampage at night (they are 'destroyed' by sunlight). Funerals and honoring the dead are a big deal in Creation because you want to placate and honor both souls. Old battlefields and massacre sites are often haunted by hungry ghosts, i.e. Po souls that haven't been treated properly and now hunger for human flesh. Thanks man, this is exactly what I needed. megane posted:It also means that you can bring the same person back as two distinct ghosts simultaneously. This is ALSO what I needed and has a direct effect on what I'm going to discuss. Stephenls posted:Also, in the context of Exalted 2nd Edition, animals only have po souls; also also, the Exaltation seems to root itself in the po, rather than the hun as might be expected and the hungry ghost left behind by a dead Exalt can be massively bloated with power. ![]() Holy poo poo. For what it's worth, the book is impeccably edited, I haven't spotted an error or typo yet and I'm the sort of person who immediately twigs onto those. Only question I have is (if you remember) whether Celebrants and Autocrats have separate uniforms; the book lists standard clothing for every subcaste except those two. Also, if you have any information or commentary you would like to impart on how the book came together, I would love to include it in the review.
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![]() Man, that is a boring banner, but the alternative includes Lissome Avid Engineer’s disembodied head, which just looks messy. I’ll leave her to rep Starmetals on the cover in peace. Chapter 2: First among Equals (Claslat and Yugash) No intro comic this time. I guess the two most powerful nations in Autochthonia are far too busy to bother with comics. The Octet calls Claslat the First Among Eight for a reason: it’s the largest, wealthiest, and most politically influential single nation in Autochthonia. It can be divided into two sections: the central part, situated in a massive cavern occupied by no fewer than nine cities and dozens of towns, while the outer section sprawls into what used to be the Far Reaches with two cities and as more than 30 smaller outposts. Keep in mind, with around 50 cities between the eight nations, a nation has a bit over six cities on average; Claslat has 11. Central Claslat is a relatively safe area bound by extensive infrastructure, but outer Claslat has to deal with spirits never intended to interact with humans; the locals have a lot of clerics. I said Claslat was fantasy America and I meant it, not just because of its competitive culture, but because it accidentally invented capitalism. See, a few centuries back Claslat had to deal with a series of scandals involving important figures requisitioning valuable things they really shouldn’t have had access to. The Oglotary responded in part by instituting a system where citizens could exchange glass tokens (called glots) they earned for exceptional work for various items. They thought workers would just spend them immediately or collect them to spend later, but soon enough people figured out you could exchange glots for goods and services without having to bother turning them in. In other words, they now had small, portable objects with a fixed value that could be easily exchanged. By now maybe one in 10 Claslati participate in the “glass market”, a system characterized by the sale of luxuries and services instead of basic goods (the Tripartite still provides for everyone’s fundamental needs). Every Claslati city or town has an informal market square where you can find people offering everything from slightly improved meals (the most common service) to gloves to paintings to haircuts to even a shift with a prostitute, who have developed a system of indicating who they’ll sleep with and what they offer by how they stand. The authorities put up with it because the need for glots drives productivity up; workers after glots to spend work even harder to meet production goals, and since they make goods, perform services, and sell their work during off shifts, participation in the economy even for people not seeking to pull in glots doesn’t cut into productivity. Also because the vast majority of workers still don’t participate. However, a few workers are setting themselves up as mob bosses, dominating trades that were already present but frowned upon by the authorities (like gambling and selling illegal goods), intimidating competitors, and using their wealth to buy themselves up to low-ranking Tripartite standards of living. These guys living sumptuously without contributing to society runs counter to every part of the Autochthonian ethos, but for now the practice is entirely legal (even if what their subordinates do isn’t). Quick aside on clothing. While all nations produce certain amounts of every good their citizens need, Claslat is the Octet’s major exporter of textiles and cloth products. The most common material, an analog of linen, is harvested from a kind of cables that serve as Autochthon’s nervous system (with the Divine Ministers’ explicit blessing) before slapping basic repairs on it and coming back in a few months to harvest the regrown material. They weave the flax-analog into cloth which they then make into clothing of various kinds, especially handkerchiefs, which most workers have half a dozen of. They also have shrouds in every work area with a hole cut into it approximately the size of a soulgem. They use these to cover the faces of people who die in accidents; most Claslati believe the dead can see out their soulgems before the Luminors return their soul to the reservoir and those shrouds strike the balance between letting the deceased see and preventing them having to see what their friends and coworkers look like when they look at the face of a recently dead loved one. As brutally utilitarian as Autochthonian society is, it shows the same respect for the dead all human societies do (as a side note, human bodies are recycled into food products in most cities). They also make “silk” products from the harvested bristles of spirits that clean air ducts and “cotton” products are made from the shaved manes of a certain kind of metal elemental. They always take care to leave enough bristles/mane to leave the spirits functional, and the clothing they make from them closely resembles those made of similar materials in Creation. The sidebar exists, it tells us, to show us how industries we’re familiar with can look entirely different in Autochthonia once you dig under the surface. Next up is basically a gazetteer of important towns and cities; to break the entries up I’ll switch between city writeups and the sections on other issues that follow them. Its capital, the centropolis of Harmegis, and the nation’s founder Clastlat both seem to have lacked genders when they were still active, so the latter receives the generic title of centropolis. Claslat never became a city in their own right; instead they were entombed in a special sarcophagus within their own cathedral where visitors can come and pray to Autochthon in their presence. Most of the eight heroes underwent similar treatment, but as Claslat’s nation has the largest population (and is the only one that puts its hero on display) the cathedral sees thousands of pilgrims every year. Legend has it Claslat used to occasionally speak to Theomachrats before finally falling silent a few hundred years ago; naturally some people have concluded this is because their nation has drifted from their plan/has disappointed them/etc. Harmegis, the city formerly known as Harrowing Meteoric Aegis that houses both their cathedral and the Grand Assembly, is the geographically smallest city in the country, consisting of a densely packed industrial outer ring, an administration-focused inner ring, and a spire at the center dedicated to worship. Despite its size its industries are the most efficient in Clastlat and it exports industrial goods across the country; Harmegis has decided building other cities is more important than building themselves. ![]() Stephenls posted:Also, funfact: That picture above that's censored? The art note did not instruct the artist to draw the middle priest topless. That was a surprise when the art came back. Claslati take their food deadly seriously. The nation has both the largest workforce and the largest industrial sector in the Octet (over 90% of its population produce goods of some kind), meaning demand for food is high and the supply of potential flavorings or food types can match it. While the Harvesters gather all the raw materials just like everywhere else, a mixture of Harvester and Populat chefs use a variety of techniques to convert the basic nutrient slurry everyone lives off into breads, soups, and even a sweetened jerky equivalent. The fact that they treat the giant cafeterias they eat in as holy places is probably unrelated. Ironically, despite how much they love their fine food, most of the good stuff is either exported or sold on the glass market; most of the week they eat the same stuff you find elsewhere. Arat, formerly the Soulsteel known as Arms and Armor Triumphant, forms a counterpoint to small, devout, traditionalist Harmegis. Of all the cities in Claslat, Arat has the most active glass market, leaving its buildings coated in bright paints and the local equivalent of neon signs across every district advertising goods, services, and (in Tripartite districts) the benefits of serving the state. The cyberpunk aesthetic has gotten so omnipresent the Luminors have given up on maintaining the lighting system because all the neon lights the city for them. The “pilgrims” it attracts are as much tourists as people on a religious journey, and Arat’s 500,000 citizens both pity their provincial nature and gleefully take them for all their worth. It also has the deepest criminal underworld in the country to the point that some factories have formed street gangs that out fight regulators sent to bring them under control. Arat himself, who’s been chasing progress compulsively for thousands of years, loves the glass market and encourages it, but the city’s heart and purpose has always been the manufacture of war materials; it produces high quality weapons and armor in colossal amounts and the other nations fall over themselves to buy them whenever they can. The fact that criminals can disappear weapons from production lines and use them in gang wars does not help the city’s crime problem. Since Arat is the sort of person who ignores things the moment they get outdated, the city has an extensive Old City under the surface where Lumpen and some unfortunate Populat perform unpleasant labor above a network of abandoned tunnels and nonfunctional infrastructure. Gangs are strongest in the Old City and Regulators only occasionally visit, but at least they contribute to the city; below them live communities of tunnel folk and vagrants that live off scavenged materials. In recent years groups from the Old City have started trading surface goods (including some weapons) for rare tools abandoned in the tunnels, which has led to some of those gangs actively fighting off tunnel folk raiders or even invaders. Rumor has it one of those communities has turned to Void worship. The other two locations covered in the chapter are the Metropolis of Jandis (a minor manufacturing center that runs the country’s biggest and most famous Gladiate arena), and Cinshan, a town occupying a tunnel in the cavern wall of inner Claslat that serves as a transport hub; 182 tram lines run through the area, carrying goods and people across the nation. Given the amount of people and cargo that pass through and its many quiet warehouses, the town is the center of Claslat’s black market. As resources dwindle and the soul shortage becomes more and more visible, the nations are scrambling to find solutions that might keep their countries together. One group of Claslati Tripartite members that calls itself the Resurrectionists think they have the solution to both; they identify resource strain with rising populations and soul shortages with, well, death, so they believe by removing both they can stabilize their country. To this end they have all committed ritual suicide in such a way that their souls get trapped in their soulgems while still animating their bodies. So far the procedure has proven generally successful and they successfully pass as alive, relying on the Surgeons among their number to repair any decay or damage; they know their bodies won’t last forever, but they plan to have the Scholars build them robot bodies later on. Until they become powerful enough to take over, they use a mixture of careful recruiting and frequent murder of loose ends to keep themselves secret, since they know the Theomachracy would take one look and declare them tainted by the Void. Naturally, the Resurrectionists don’t believe they have anything to do with the Void, but the thing about that? They will. Autochthonians don’t actually know how souls work; by trapping their souls in their bodies, without they’ve turned their bodies into walking corpses possessed by both the human hun and animalistic po parts of their souls without realizing it. megane posted:It also means that you can bring the same person back as two distinct ghosts simultaneously. They are what happens when you force those two distinct ghosts together. After a while the downsides of their state will overtake their personalities; already the extreme emotional swings that characterize ghosts in Creation have begun impacting their judgment, and their po souls are growing increasingly hungry as a consequence of not being properly severed, gradually coloring their decisions and dragging them towards erratic behavior. It’s why they resort to murder so quickly; the combination of exaggerated emotion and viciousness inclines them towards violence. Soon enough they’ll degenerate until they register as Void creatures to anything that can sense them. ![]() Next up is Yugash, a nation that defined itself by its daring or arrogance, depending on who you talk to. What it defines itself by now as its victory in the Elemental War. See, maybe a decade ago the soon-to-be-neighboring country of Sova (covered next chapter) underwent a massive resource shortage – they’d entirely run out of magical metals - and asked Yugash for help; unwilling to reveal that they, too, were undergoing a (less severe) resource shortage, the Yugashi rejected every request without providing reasons. Eventually the major Sovan city of Ixut dug too greedily and too deep in search of new metals and got itself wiped out by the Autochthonian equivalent of white blood cells. Sova went to war with Yugash immediately after, blaming them for the loss. Despite only lasting two years, this war proved the single most destructive in Autochthonian history; though the countries fought on an unprecedented scale, the real trouble came out of the resource shortage. Desperate for war material, both sides mined their surroundings way more audaciously than they’d ever risked before, provoking the wrath of the spirits and elementals in the area; by the end of the war they spent more effort fighting off spirits and keeping inter-spirit conflicts from destroying everything around them than they did fighting each other. That’s why the Yugashi city of Ot nearly destroyed itself when an experimental weapon it had used to remove an exceptionally powerful elemental from existence broke containment and nearly took the city with it. The chaos spread to Autochthon’s internal geography as well; instead of gradually pulling apart like normal, when the nations began to separate, their organ-continents started slamming into each other and causing serious earthquakes. Yugash ended the war by having its forces scavenge hundreds of soulgems from Ixut, embed them in the walls of an invasion route, force the souls in them to manifest as the last major Sovan army passed through, and while they tried to deal with the resulting horror they fell upon them and slaughtered them. It ended the war, but the war left both countries devastated with their resource shortages even more acute. It also meant the Estasian mercenaries under Sova’s employment, who’d avoided the slaughter, got to carry away news of how exactly they won – they had both violated the sanctity of the soulgem, something previously unthinkable, and won a decisive victory. The conflict had so embittered the two nations to each other that they separately decided to continue the war when they drifted back together less than a decade later (within a few months of the given start date, in fact). Yugash was left in shambles. While theoretically the victor, Yugash had exhausted its remaining reserves without gaining access to more, traumatized an entire generation, and dropped the population by almost a quarter right when soulless stillbirths started cutting it down further. And that’s not to mention entire towns ripped apart or separated from the homeland by Autochthon’s suddenly unpredictable geography; for instance, the Yugashi town of Ilyensa was trapped behind enemy lines when an earthquake knocked it out of position and its population are currently being brainwashed by Sovan authorities for use as double agents. It’s gotten to the point where the authorities have started encouraging marriages and allowing parents to help raise their children as an effort to both boost morale and increase population growth, and (in a move that will piss off any queer gamers in your group) they’ve started institutional discrimination against homosexuality to force people to have more kids. Then a miner named Sirin of Het came back from a failed expedition to the Reaches claiming Autochthon himself had guided him away from destruction, including taking him through what the book implies was the Core. He immediately started demanding the Grand Assembly fund his attempt to return to the Reaches and contact Autochthon again, responding to Tripartite attempts to quietly discourage him by cobbling together an ideology, the first in living memory to meaningfully challenge orthodoxy; he preached that Autochthon wanted his followers to survive and flourish and in order to do so they had to find somewhere else to live and worship him. The ideology grew and spread until it infiltrated the Tripartite; when the authorities finally found a team of Regulators willing to arrest him instead of defect to him like the last several had, they found him floating in the town square, covered in glowing circuitry and speaking the language spirits used. Over the enthusiastic objections of most of the Theomachracy (the rest agreed), the Grand Assembly took the unprecedented step of declaring that the Luminors had assigned Sirin (who at that point half the country saw as a prophet) to the wrong caste at birth, shifted him into the Theomachracy, granted him the permission and resources he needed to lead his expedition, and promptly killed him when they tried to switch his Populat soulgem out for an appropriate Theomachrat one. The cause of Sirin’s death remains obscure, but the rest of the country saw it as the Tripartite assassinating him because there’s no way they wouldn’t, and the resulting civil war turned every part of Yugashi civil society against itself – including Alchemical assemblies. Eventually a young Oglocrat and follower of Sirin named Unless they take that drastic step, Yugash is screwed. At this point the country’s surroundings are both depleted and hostile, making attempts to scavenge vitally necessary resources in necessary quantities futile; even if there was enough to go around, enough of the maddened elementals that gave the Elemental War its name are still wandering around and attacking passersby to make resource collection impossible. As such, every day that passes the country channels more and more resources into Project Razor as the rest of Yugash falls into ruin. And even then, not only is Project Razor running into delays as the Sodalities struggle to figure out how to make it work, but the moment they complete the Municipal Charm it goes into the cloud where other nations can access it. Claslat in particular has a plan in place to destroy Project Razor the moment it goes active and rapidly build their own equivalent. The only upside to their situation is that the country, despite losing so many young people to two separate massive wars, is actually undergoing a population boom. With Creation just over the horizon and a desperate need for warm bodies, Yugash has invited pilgrims inspired by Sirin, exiles, and tunnel folk willing to work for it to become citizens. The resulting influx of people both gives their industries the manpower they need to stay afloat and drives up their paranoia of infiltrators and spies. At this point it’s practically the only thing keeping the nation afloat. ![]() Gazetteer! Yugash has four cities. The Metropolis of Het liked Sirin as much as anyone with Clarity 8 or above can like anyone, but she has grown politically isolated from Kerok and brought her citizens with her. She opposes him because she has solid evidence he killed Sirin and sent his soul back to the reservoir before the anyone could question it, but her citizens have embraced traditional Yugashi culture and ideology, growing suspicious of his promises of a mythical paradise and attempting to reclaim a past lost after years of war. Ot, on the other hand, has practically reconfigured himself into a support structure for Project Razor (at least its upper section, his lower section lost most of its population to the war and is now inhabited by huge numbers of un-assimilated and unassigned immigrants living in citywide shantytowns). The capital of Kadar is currently stable for the most part, despite the constant The last section of the chapter gives us a pair of characters to pepper into Yugash campaign; one is the religiously conservative Alchemical in charge of security for Project Razor who suppresses her opinion that the whole thing is heretical out of patriotism (way to get into the project), and the other is the Celebrant of Ot, a mystic fascinated with the workings of the soul who wants to learn how they work in creation, but who would really rather not do so by participating in an invasion (way to fix the Ewer). Then the chapter is done. Right now, Yugash only counts as one of the two most important nations in Autochthonia due to the prominence of Project Razor and their victory over Sova. It is two steps away from being a failed state, and the political and economic aftershocks from a botched attempt to get into creation would probably push it over the edge. It is also has probably the most dangerous military in Autochthonia outside of Estasia between all the gruesome experience they’ve gained over the last decade and the influx of desperate people used to doing anything to survive. If Project Razor goes off without a hitch, you really will get a Locust Crusade. That doesn’t mean GM’s have to let Yugash into creation, though; the endeavor is complicated enough that it might fail entirely or get preempted by some other nation’s attempt. At this point huge chunks of Autochthonia believe Creation is nothing more than a religious metaphor. You might decide they are right. Who knows. Anyway, next chapter covers the three nations most characterized by conflict; militaristic Estasia, desperate Nurad, and traumatized and revanchist Sova. E: I wish this book had more illustrations because goddamn that’s a wall of text. I think I’ll just be stealing spare ones from the last book. Falconier111 fucked around with this message at 18:13 on Jun 1, 2020 |
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# ¿ Jul 18, 2025 18:29 |
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Lurks With Wolves posted:As far as I know, Exalted's management was... very hands off at the time. The kind of hands off where the freelancers writing the back half of Infernals had to independently get in contact with each other to plan it out. ![]()
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