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quote:mercurial.  Sources: background by Pino44io, game font is CarbonType by Vic Fieger, title font is Painting With Chocolate by mooze This is Sail City, a game of i’m sorry did you say street magic (a.k.a. street magic) by Caro Asercion/Sea Excursion, an extensive hack of Microscope (the fractal, achronological history-building game by Ben Robbins), for the following people:
street magic is a world-building game about creating fantastical cities made of Neighbourhoods, Landmarks, and Residents, experienced by walking the city or transforming it through Events such as festivals, campaigns, mysteries, and other dramatic happenings. We’re taking inspiration from a few different places: the distributed city of the Faroes; outlying Japanese island chains; and, most significantly, Hawaii. Our ‘city’ is split over an archipelago, each island its own Neighbourhood, though one or two more prominent islands might have more than one Neighbourhood, and is defined by the following three mood words:
Note: our city is not called ‘sail city’. We may or may not create a fitting name as the game goes on. We’ll see! Next post will contain the current state of the city—its Neighbourhoods, each Neighbourhood’s Landmarks, and each Landmark’s Residents—and its history of Events. These will grow over time as we add more by playing the game. First up, though, is a setup round.    
UnCO3 fucked around with this message at 23:59 on May 19, 2020 |
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May 14, 2020 02:18
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| # ? Apr 26, 2024 04:34 |
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THE HISTORY Compass 1: the Ahi Festival, or ke Ahi ʻAi Honua Hoʻolauleʻa Event 1: the festival night Compass 2: Guilds and Companies Compass 3: The News Event 3: Compass 4: Event 4: Compass 5: Event 5: THE CITY Neighbourhood: Alohiki Falls, where love and legends live > Landmark: The Pedal Market, a half-remembered scent of celebration > > Resident: The Scion of Irei, herald of new ages > Landmark: Port Kitanaha, the portal to the world > > Resident: the Coal in Pocket, just wait ‘til you hear us sing > Landmark: Young Crab, Sentinel of the Eastern Current Neighbourhood: The Scarlet Quarries, > Landmark: The Rat Bag, new spirits and dubious food Neighbourhood: Lady Hibiscus, an island inhabited by the spirits of centuries past Neighbourhood: Queen's Crater, the birthplace of us all Neighbourhood: The University District, the hull of wisdom Neighbourhood: Twelve Gardens of the Guilds, the Wall Street of the Waves > Landmark: The Trade Winds Caller, songs smothered in paper and light UnCO3 fucked around with this message at 11:56 on Sep 23, 2020 |
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May 14, 2020 02:18
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exploring a neighborhood... The river that winds its way through the capital city eventually culminates in the mighty Alohiki Falls. In the old days, this was the place to be married. For the ancient nobility, it was the only place. After the ceremony, the newly joined couple would try to climb the falls by hand. It was believed that if they were successful in the top they would... become... dragons? Or perhaps they would give birth to dragons? Have children as strong as dragons? They would be as rich as dragons? Honestly, there's a lot of conflicting reports on the legend depending on which island, which town, which individual you're asking. Alohiki remains a popular place to be married today - by both locals and tourists alike. The natural splendor of the area remains almost completely untouched by the modernity surrounding it. And couples continue to "climb" but, out of concern for public safety, a stairwell has been installed off to the side. A title: Alohiki Falls A reputation: ceremonial, natural, historic A true name: where love and legends live
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May 14, 2020 17:53
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Exploring a Neighborhood In their early days the Scarlet Quarries regularly granted their bounty to the adventuring miners who dotted their landscape. The lives of those folks scrabbling for quicksilver among the cinnabar cliffs was often romanticized in media, especially once the Guilds consolidated power and pushed out most lone competitors. Over time, guild exploitation eroded the landscape to the point that many of the old mines and quarries are regularly flooded and even collapsed by the constant tides. This has once again encouraged some rugged individualists to risk their health and safety in hopes of Striking Quick in the places modern companies are afraid to go. Title: The Scarlet Quarries Reputation: Adventuresome, Boom&Bust, Individualist True Name: The Fickle Flow of Fortune Barbed Tongues fucked around with this message at 22:15 on May 14, 2020 |
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May 14, 2020 21:58
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visiting a landmark Mining is hungry, thirsty work, so where the miners go the Rat Bag goes too: a mobile diner joint, currently settled into an old cellar in the quicksilver processing plant. You can get anything here, as long as it's cheap, and it's one of the few places in all the isles where you can get mainland cuisine, if you can call it that. That's why it's the one place you can reliably find just about anyone in the Scarlet Quarries. The rules are simple: no violence, no gambling, no rookery. Those who can't play nice just have to get themselves to shut up. Those who can't play nice or shut up find themselves out on their asses. Title: The Rat Bag Address: under the old plant on the sheltered rim of the Scarlet Quarries True Name: new spirits and dubious food
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May 15, 2020 00:00
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exploring a neighborhood On the furthest island in the chain lies a dirt footpath, ending with a stone tablet commemorating the arrival of the Lady Hibiscus, and the islanders' first meeting with explorers from a distant land. And lying in a field just past the footpath is an old carrack, washed ashore generations ago and dutifully preserved throughout the ages. Today, it serves as a place of respite for tourists and explorers wandering an otherwise empty island, operated and lived in by a distant descendant of an explorer. Title: Lady Hibiscus Reputation: old, historic, quiet True Name: an island inhabited by the spirits of centuries past Aesculus fucked around with this message at 15:06 on May 18, 2020 |
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May 18, 2020 04:53
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setting a compass... Officially titled ke Ahi ʻAi Honua Hoʻolauleʻa, the annual Ahi Festival is one part historical celebration, one part song and dance competition, and one part gastronomical extravaganza. From across our many islands, the various and sundry hālau send their best and their brightest to the foot of our most famous volcano. According to legend, it was there that our first king won the heart of the fire goddess. As lava slowly approached his village, sure to destroy it, he danced and sang for six days straight with no water, no food, and no rest. On the seventh day, the lava stopped and the goddess emerged. She was impressed by his valiant efforts and from their union, came us. The six day festival is a tremendous honor to win. It is a major tourism draw for our economy. And the food is... well... divine. There are plenty of people that go to the Ahi and never see a single performance because they are too busy eating!
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May 19, 2020 18:59
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exploring a neighborhood... "Hike Historic Queen's!" Every tourist's guide includes Queen's Crater as a must. The dormant volcano has a plethora of hikes across its ridges with varying degrees of difficulty; but no matter which one you choose, you'll be rewarded with an incredible view of this island and several of the surrounding ones. A title: Queen's Crater A reputation: explosive, tranquil, grand A true name: the birthplace of us all
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May 19, 2020 23:24
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Visiting a Landmark What started as an opportunity industry to cater to tourists and wedding parties has developed into a full-fledged street market. Larger vehicles and beasts of burden have a hard time reaching the Falls, leaving most of the vendors to only stock what they can fit on a bicycle. Still, there is a slew of local produce that make striking photos and fresh snacks. Hand-crafters abound, from bead- and shell-work to scrimshaw men, all offering their own versions of trinkets and souvenirs. The largest stock, though, are the flowers - it's hard not to be overwhelmed by the aromas and colors at first. And already vendors are beginning to stock Silver Brunia for the upcoming Ahi Festival. The swarm of dancers that travel from the Falls to the Crater have become accustomed to paying for a little evidence of their participation. Title: The Pedal Market Address: At the base of Alohiki Falls on the way to Queen's Crater True Name: A half-remembered scent of celebration Barbed Tongues fucked around with this message at 18:45 on May 20, 2020 |
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May 20, 2020 18:42
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exploring a neighbourhood The University District! Here knowledge grows as if from seeds, and wisdom is sheltered from sea storms. Its two specialities? Gastronomy and vulcanology. The seismographs play an oddly traditional role in the leadup to the Ahi Festival, recording the 'words of our ancestors' (or their snores, some people say). Listening for the goddess and her husband isn't the only thing they do, though—there've been plenty enough eruptions in living memory that it helps to have forewarning for evacuating neighbourhoods of the city. City people are less keen on the gastronomy department. Who does food belong to—the people, or some group of stuck-up labcoats? They get by on the popularity of the rest of the university. Title: The University District Reputation: helpful, foreboding, insular True Name: the hull of wisdom
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May 20, 2020 23:02
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visiting a landmark At the far north edge of the capital island, where the flow from Alohiki Falls reaches the ocean and melts into it, there is a concrete pier that is the lifeblood of the islands. It's here where liners and ferries dock, tourists come and go, and families are reunited. While the port and the terminal have been modernized and upgraded many times throughout its history - most recently with the construction of a breakwater, the port serves the same role it has for hundreds of years, and it remains the islanders' only source of everything from motorcycles to turnips. Title: Port Kitanaha Address: where Alohiki Falls meets the ocean True Name: the portal to the world
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May 21, 2020 08:51
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holding an event... Throughout the day, the different hālau all perform on their own hand-built stages. They dance, they sing, they sell merchandise, they sign autographs, they give lessons, they teach history, and the crowds are free to interweave between the myriad of stages at their leisure, watching for a bit here, grabbing a bite to eat there, laughing, talking, taking photographs. It is jovial, relaxed, easy. But as the sun sets, a calm seriousness awakens. People gather to the center stage. The best dancers from each island are sent to represent and to compete. There is no set end time. It is over when it is over, when there is a clear winner. It is said that in the old days, people would dance for days on end. And so people dance. For hours. Under moon and star and torch. And as the night goes, an interesting thing occurs. A girl, a young teenager, not even old enough to visit the University District, begins to stand out. Her age is unusual, dancing as she is amongst those with more years of experience than she has alive, but even more intriguing are the whispers that she is from the Scarlett Quarries. It is an island known for mining. It is not an island known for dancers. Sure, sure, people whisper. Look at the roughness of her feet. Look at the callouses on her hands. Yet she is just as fluid as those from older, more distinguished hālau. She stands her ground, crisp in movement, fierce in step, brow furrowed in determination, never missing a beat, never giving a reason to be called from the stage, forcing the competition later and later. And there begins to spread an almost tangible belief that tonight... anything is possible. She should have no chance here yet she dances anyway and her competition begins to wilt, needing food and water and rest. She outlasts the singers, raspy voiced and dehydrated. The outlasts the pedigreed teachers and their students, who can do nothing more than smile and limp off. She outlasts all the drummers... save for one: a darkly tanned man from the mines with muscles taunt like woven rope, who grits his teeth as his sore, wounded hands bleed onto his drum. And when she finally stands alone on the stage, she stands first of her island to be champion.
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May 26, 2020 23:19
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asking a question How will people from the Quarries be welcomed at the next Ahi Festival, differently to now?
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May 27, 2020 01:42
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Show a Consequence An influx of new adventurers hits the Quarries, inspired to seek their own success and fortunes by the festival's results. The Rat Bag is quick to expand and take advantage of the new businesses, adding a boarding house for the new arrivals who have yet to stake a property claim.
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May 29, 2020 21:33
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stating an opinion There is no doubt in my mind that this year's festival will go down as the best in history. The presentation of the event everywhere from the food stalls to the closing fireworks ceremony was on another level, and this year's victor is living proof that the spirit of the King and the Goddess lives on.
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Jun 7, 2020 12:46
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altering the city... Title: The Scarlet Quarries Reputation: Adventuresome, Boom&Bust, Individualist True Name: the Victorious Island completing an event...  In the aftermath of the Ahi Festival, scores of new visitors arrive at the Scarlet Quarries, the Victorious Island. Some are fans, some are students, some are opportunists, some are just tourists excited to view something new, but regardless of who they are, every visitor walks away... disappointed. Their newly crowned champion's humble beginnings were, if anything, sorely understated. Her hālau is nothing more than a dirt patch stamped hard as brick by her dusty, dancing feet. Her home is small. Her island is like a wounded animal; trees torn down, jungles slashed, cliffs exposed and eroded, with a landscape of rusted mining machines, dilapidated buildings, and dry rock. And wounded animals attract predators. She, herself, is a kind and gracious host. Young, barely outside of childhood, yet tirelessly she greets visitors, dances, brews tea, and gives island recommendations, limited though they may be. A champion of the people. Circling around her now, though are various "entrepreneurs" eager to use her to make a quick buck. They whisper promises of fame, fortune, sponsorship, wealth, a restaurant, a line of hot sauces, a proper hālau... All deals using small writing set profits in their best interest, of course. And so far as she as turned them all away. But how long can that last? How long can she avoid being taken advantage of? Heavy lies the flower crown.
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Jun 8, 2020 17:16
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Setting a Compass: Guilds and Companies Mainlanders are still bewildered by the extensive trading routes the Islanders had forged even before the great ages of exploration. While not as large as the junks and galleons of other nations, their light and quick vessels had speed, range and a better agility to navigate local storms and monsoons. These long networks encouraged an early economic bartering system which soon led to the Twelve Guilds, and their modern heirs, the Queen's Companies. Setting a Landmark:  Title: Young Crab Address: Pier Six in Port Kitanaha True Name: Sentinel of the Eastern Current Young Crab is the newest full capacity crane on the Port, and the only one that can serve the biggest of the mainlander trading vessels. Young Crab runs as long as there's daylight, though it is not uncommon to see it operative during the dark hours as well, as overtime and pay differentials are coaxed out of anxious and hasty captains. Some residents longer in the tooth still remember Old Crab, the hulking Crane that operated during the island's industrialization, then sat empty and unused for decades until its decomission. Barbed Tongues fucked around with this message at 15:19 on Jun 14, 2020 |
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Jun 14, 2020 15:14
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exploring a neighborhood... Historically, over time, the various merchant families began to rival the nobility in terms of wealth, power, and influence. Wary of their growing threat (or the potential of a growing threat), the royal family decreed that the head of each merchant family would be confined to a single. The same island. The excuse was so that the these leaders could more easily "work out any differences" and "be on the ready to serve the kingdom." In reality, it was just to have them all in one place in case there was an uprising. Well, the merchants became the capital-lettered Twelve Guilds. The Twelve Guilds become the Queen's Companies. The Queen's Companies outlasted the monarchy. And the island of exile developed into the financial district -- not just of our lands but of the entire surrounding ocean. Officially titled the Twelve Gardens of the Guilds, often just called Twelve Gardens, and sometimes simply 12G, the place is bustling twenty-four hours a day, interns and low-level associates slamming coffee to stay awake through the business hours of the world's differing time zones. A title: Twelve Gardens of the Guilds A reputation: wealthy, influential, relentless A true name: the Wall Street of the Waves
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Jul 6, 2020 21:58
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meeting a resident The leader of the union blockade at Port Kitanaha, the Coal in Pocket. Rough hands and burning eyes. All that wealth passing in and out and on to the 12G, and they only let a trickle dribble down to their community? All that growing trouble at the Quarries? Of course it was going to come to a strike. And this man is a veteran who's read his theory and knows his practice. Famously, he was the one who sparked off that situation thirty years ago when... you know... the strike-breakers were broken. Now he's pacing a new picket line in front of the gates of Kitanaha, between the longshoremen, behind the wooden barricades, while press photographers on the other side of the road try to snap shots. Title: the Coal in Pocket Pronouns: he/him True Name: just wait 'til you hear us sing UnCO3 fucked around with this message at 20:14 on Jul 16, 2020 |
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Jul 7, 2020 09:39
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An old woman is pushing her granddaughter in a stroller when she sees the commotion. She recognizes the man at the head of it all. His face is different, older, skin like leather, white hair, but, yes, surely, she knows, that's the boy she once snuck off with to skip school and go "fishing" with oh so many years ago. She stops and watches for a moment then she shakes her head. "Shame," she says. "His blood runs noble on his mother's side. If only it was on both. Then maybe he would have had a chance." Then she carries on her way and soon forgets him. Again.
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Jul 7, 2020 20:58
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Behind the red line, Toppy sits moored in port for two days and counting now, rows upon rows of container crates piled high lying on her hull. With her crew disembarked and sailors standing side by side with workers onshore, neither she nor her cargo look like anything's going anywhere soon. In the shadow cast by her funnels, her captain watches on and nods as the head of the crowd rouses the the people through the ship's megaphone. After all, it's the least he can do for an old comrade.
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Jul 9, 2020 07:02
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The little man with the normally quick gait was more anchored today, now that the strikelines were being drawn up in earnest. He didn't carry any recorders or pens or notebooks on him, lest he be discovered, or at best mistaken for one of the press and marked. He came armed with good ears, a forgettable face, and a fine memory. Who were the on-the-ground lieutenants, were there any captains involved? Who showed up late, who showed up drunk, and who showed up hoping for a scrap? All would be diligently reported to his guild handler, left to be categorized and manipulated by people well above his level. When he suddenly found himself wishing the strikers good fortune, a fleeting sense of old camaraderie nibbled at him, his current depth within the company-pocket notwithstanding. In his head he imagined a work slowdown - if his memory was only eighty percent today - would they even know? He entertained the thought of solidarity with the man with rough hands, marching side by side in a picket line, shouting from a soapbox. He chuckled at the scenes, and for the rest of the day he'd come back to the thought about once every fifth time he really ought to be remembering something else.
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Jul 15, 2020 07:19
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meeting a resident An elegantly dressed young lady tours the pedal market, enjoying one of the few moments of freedom available to her. Soon, she will return to her family's mansion on the hills onboard a rental limousine arranged by her father - the current President and CEO of the Irei group, the seventh of the twelve, and continue her studies under the best private tutors available, flown in from the mainland. All this so she can fulfil her destiny, to inheirit the firm and restore it to its former throne of the largest and most powerful of the Queen's Companies. But this young woman has her own dreams. She dreams of studying the inner workings of the world at the University District. She dreams of a life full of friendship and adventure, outside the boardroom and away from the fortresses of glass and concrete. It hasn't always gone as well as she'd hoped, and she's been lectured by her father and his aides before. Will she remain undaunted and continue to pursue her passions now that she has almost come of age? Title: The Scion of Irei Pronouns: she/her True Name: herald of new ages Aesculus fucked around with this message at 13:08 on Sep 22, 2020 |
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Jul 15, 2020 10:37
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Bodyguard duty. The young scion wants them to stay at a distance, so she can be more ordinary among the 'ordinary people'. Fine. But, he thinks, four bodyguards at thirty-six feet are not much less conspicuous than four bodyguards at six feet, with a little perspective. Add to that manners, dress, and even the songs she hums and she sticks out more than a little. If you want to join the throng, he thinks, you may have to give up more than your stifling privilege. She's discussing music with a drum-seller across the road. They chat and laugh, carefree. A pedalling merchant crosses in front of them, pulling a cart full of flowers and earthenware. For just a split second, the pots and petals frame the pair beautifully, almost like a vignette photo.
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Jul 16, 2020 23:25
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There is a single, tiny table set up next to the boba man so the scion has to sit close to a stranger after she buys her tea. The girl, the stranger, couldn't be more opposite and nothing is more obvious about that than with their hair. The scion's is short, straight, manicured, carefully styled. The stranger's is long, curly, wild, interwoven with feathers and flowerpetals. Small talk leads to laughter to deeper conversations to questions about plans for later. The stranger is going to take her paddleboard out after dark for some nightfishing. The scion has never experienced such a thing. As the last bit of tea is drained, there is a smile, a kiss on the cheek, a flutter of the heart, and an invitation to join.
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Jul 17, 2020 17:00
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setting a compass The News! Everyone has to know what's happening, right? And it used to be through song, heralds, stories passed down and analogies thought up, but that's been changing. Papers and bulletins got a foothold a long, long time ago and now digital news is all the rage, for the more worldly people. Lung and tongue and people with minds of their own are slowly, but steadily being replaced in high official channels with convenient electrons that do whatever you tell them to, no more, no less. Still, there's a thriving market for people who do things the old way. The normal way. - visiting a landmark  The offices of the Trade Winds Caller are the terminal for the massive undersea cables that bring in news from the wider world at the speed of light. Light—and not song—is how they tell their truth. Or, increasingly, whatever's most convenient for the the Guilds. Outside competitors haven't managed to get the same foothold in paper news the TWC has, but only because of familiarity and tradition. If the paper hadn't grown out of generations of wind, song, and seafaring then they wouldn't last a week on the archipelago. They hold onto the remnants of a small fleet of news-boats, maybe like a widow with a memento, maybe like a prince who refuses to let go of childhood, maybe like a survivor refusing to let go of a shattered hull. Maybe a happy balance can be struck? Title: The Trade Winds Caller Address: 12G:A37:F1-3 and sub-buildings for the cable station True Name: songs smothered in paper and light
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Sep 23, 2020 11:44
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