Weekly update: a look at random encounter generation and a player write-up from the previous game.
I already covered the initial map, area and cultural generation that happen before the game start, and then “discovery” generation of more sites as the party travels. They may or may not find these sites as they journey through the hexes. What they will find regularly are encounters.
Encounter generation follows a simple “What?” “Where?” “When?” method with rolls on terrain-specific tables. For example, here is an example from a forest, swamp and mountain:
Forest
52 = Local Monster
89 = Treant (link)
97 = A river, creek or brook
29 = A dead animal, partially eaten
01 = Morning, 6am to 9am
Swamp
67 = Local culture or humanoid
Will use the active culture from a previous post, a Spiderlord (link).
13 = Particular foul and dense swamp gas makes the breathing difficult and the visibility worse
3 = Afternoon, noon to 3pm
Mountain:
00 = Multiple: 17 = Local Wildlife + 59 Local Culture or Humanoid (will use Humanoid this time)
04 = Gorilla (link) and an Ogre (link)
29 = Grazing area
98 = Trail signs
2 = Late morning, 9am to noon
That’s just enough detail to get my imagination started to describe the encounter. There is more I can add, like sight (are the PCs spotted?) and attitude (is the thing hostile?), but for now What, Where and When are all I am using
Here is the summary of our last game from one of the PCs:
Summary
(At the Deer’s Perch in Laborton, a fat man known as Zarl the Greenfish is drunk and ranting up a storm. His small hands stroke his arms as he talks, inviting listeners to view the obscene sexual acts between a woman and a green bass tattooed upon them.)
Once I make it, you can be sure I won’t be shacking up in this dingy little place anymore. The bed’s here smell like wet dog and the whole damn place shakes like it’s going to pieces every time the wind blows. Don’t give me that look bartender, you know it’s true. Soon as I can I’m trading up for that place down the road. Folks there wouldn’t sell pig slop and call it food.
Anyway, what was I saying? Yeah, I met up with some of these lads from the boat. Fellas like me looking to make more coin than you poor saps chopping the darkwoods for blue-bloods to make ottomans out of back home. If you lot knew how much your boss was pocketing from your hardwork, you’d be taking those axes to something else, I’ll tell you what. Anyway, I had my doubts about these lads I’m rolling with, but now that we’ve gone brawling together, I figure, they’re just like the boys back home. They just got all swapped around is all. There’s the pretty-boy elf whose face is all fucked-up, he’s a prick like Cityboy was, Gods rest his soul, but when we tussled with the tree-bitch he spent the whole time moaning for us to stop! Even went groveling at this woman’s trunk! Fucking classic Narwick. So, I don’t mind him after all. Gods rest his soul, Narwick was a good mate, his ass-kissing saved my ass more than once!
There’s another good, honest Man like meself with us. I wager he’s the type that picks more fights than he wins on account of his nose lying near flat on his face. Poor brother has got that lung-hacking cough like my good friend Sickly-San had, Gods rest his soul, but not his spirit. This Scrydan fellow mopes like he’s lost his old lady. Mebbe he has. Not many reasons for a bloke to ship out east-wise, and few of them are happy. A good man though. Carried my tent for me the first night. And all the nights after, hahah!
The last of ‘em is this little-guy-Leon, and I don’t have a very good read on him yet. And when I say little, I mean it. Guy had to stand on his chair just to see the table. Nearly pissed my pants looking at him! Anyway, I knew he was one of them mages or wizards or what you like, but I thought he had a good, rational head on his tiny shoulders up until he agreed with the blasted elf to head into the glade! I figured, we just landed, we could get a good lay of the land from ‘top of Prospectors Point, and mebbe find this treasure Scrydan’s been going on a bout, you know, a reasonable little venture. But TIldur, that’s the elf by the way, and Leon voted us down. It came down to a die roll and despite my best efforts to save these daft-heads from themselves we ended going to the glade. You give a man faith, and you give a man magic, and all sense goes right out of their head, swear to the Gods.
Ya can’t sell magic! Am I right?
So, off we go tromping into the woods like a pack of fools, and sure enough we find trouble. We come across these gorgeous elven sun pearls, you’ve heard of those right? Beautiful things, white as an elf’s ass and just as smooth. Huge buggers too, like they’d been spit out by a clam the size of this inn! So here they were, twenty-six in total, and let me tell you, twenty-six is a very sacred number in elven sun-pagantry. See, you divide it in half and you got…. Thirteen right? And then you divide again and then… well, you know. Elves do math different, so I don’t gotta explain it to you, the point is there were twenty-six of these beauts! One of these elven sun pearls can ward off sickness, they say, but twenty-six? Even death itself couldn’t cross ya.
So, what do we do? Well, what any sensible man would, we go to fetch them! After all, they’re just sitting there on the ground, doing no good for no one. But as soon as we make our move this wispy broad steps outta tree and stirs up a storm. Lit’really! Striking us with lightning, blowing huge gusts of winds. Why I’d bet this inn would’ve gone quicker than we did! And she’s ranting and raving the whole time. (He takes on a screeching voice and contorts his face into an ugly sneer) “These are my pearls! You can’t have them! Mine mine!”
Let me ask you, if they were her pearls why’d she leave them lying all out like that? Eh?
She tossed us around pretty good, I’ll admit. There’s no shame in losing a scrap to a spell-slinger. They don’t fight fair. Soon as you think the upper-hand BAM they go and turn you into a turtle. So we uh, made a tactical retreat and got out of there! I snatched up one of them pearls but the slippery bugger must have been under some kind of spell because it just rolled itself right back to the tree-witch!
Now, I’m not a man to usually hold grudges but between you and me, I’m not done with her yet. I’m cooking up a scheme as we speak, and when I take it to that broad she won’t know what hit her! You won’t be seeing me around too much after that. Mebbe I’ll buy a load of this darkwood you’re all selling and make myself a home right on top of that bitches grave, eh? Serve her right.
Eh, what was that? No, I ain’t telling you where to find her! You think I’m daft?!
(End write-up)
We play Session 02 in one week.
