Well, Shit, Now What Do I do?
The first session of my new Planescape campaign went off without a hitch, but there was one problem: we had only played through 75% of my planned content that night. While that doesn’t seem like a very impressive issue, I would like to explain where the actual dilemma comes in. So, here we go.
It all breaks down to players and choice. I make it a point to plan for agency, giving ample opportunity to the players to make decisions on how the story will unfold. Sure, I ask “what do you do?” or “how do you do it?” rather often, but it is more than that. In practice, I toss out a few options for the next game session, and ask the players to decide which direction they want to move towards. This allows me to plan accordingly. Sometimes I will imply that one is more important than the other, or that whichever one they choose will have effects on the world and make the other one tougher, and even remove some options when they decide to go one way instead versus another. Regardless, the choice belongs to the players and they get to experience the consequences.
Because of that, I tend to plan games to finish up in a way that allows me to determine what the PCs want to do next. In this I failed with the first game. For this second game session, I still wanted to end at a place where they would make a decision for me to be able to plan around. They were to receive some answers, that in reality brought more questions and decide from a list of suggestions about where to go next for more information.
In that regard, I would need to pad out the adventure for the evening without it feeling padded. I would turn a passing encounter into a fight and add an entire encounter to the plan and hope it all worked out.
The Cake is (Not) a Lie
Before we get into the game, I would like to share the gift my whole table received from Lynn: inspired by the ridiculous game session we all experienced before, she took time out of her life and put effort into baking us a cake for our game. Take a look. We were assured the cake had wings but was entirely demon-head free. There was even a cute cranium rat that I failed to capture in this pictures right there at the top. The cake was great, too.
Between this and being told that they bragged to their friends about our previous game, I was both thrilled and and a bit worried. Thrilled: they clearly enjoyed their time at the table during the last game. Worried: was I ready to run as good of a game. It was too fucking late, we were already at the table and playing, so let’s see how it all unfolded.
Soggy in the Sewer
The evening began with Farrow leading the group through the now unlocked gate and away from the Coterie of Cake catastrophe. Actually, the night started with ordering pizza and enjoying the Fallout branded soda that Chad brought. Anyway, I described how they went about through the underground of interconnected sewers, store rooms and basements and eventually back to more sewers.
The group came upon a cistern being fed with stinking sewer water from four directions, one of which they were walking along. Across the open expanse of the high ceilinged water reservoir, they spied a Sahuagin. The fish-man seemed to be trying to fish something out of the water (see what I did there) and hadn’t noticed the players. That was until Bob spoke up and had his cat-man Hobbler yell out an offer to help it find what it had lost.
Good intentions and all.
Having not quite entered the cistern proper, two more Sahuagin appeared: from the left appeared another standard Sahuagin and form the right appeared a more robust version. It was a fishy priest. It took a look at them, made a disgusted noise and crinkled its face up in revulsion as it slowly forced the common tongue across it’s lips: “polluters” it said. And we rolled initiative.
First attack of the game, Kera rolled a 2 and, well, let’s just say that she was less than impressed and made that clear to the party. She was not alone, as everyone missed that first turn except my poor gelatin like cleric, whom had already burned through his decent spells and used a cantrip for almost no damage. But, he was the only one that hurt the Preist that turn and was subsequently frozen when he failed his save for Hold Person. OH, and a shark appeared out front of the Sahaugin at the far side of the water right before that fish man got shot by a crossbow bolt.
The fight was a bit tedious, as was intended, as they were low on options. It went fine: Kera redeemed herself Bitzie shot the crap out of the priest while it was under the effect of a Viscous Mockery from Hobbler.
They watched as the shark left with a message and the Sahuagin ran towards the group with a few crossbow bolts in it already. Which allowed Q’or to finish it off. I asked Chad how he did it, and he described gripping the fishy face and cut across the torso. I described the legs going a few more steps as he tossed the top half of the corpse into the water. Lynn had done some serious damage to the last Sahuagin and Kera’s rogue came up and (fittingly) stole the kill from Z and got to describe stabbing it through the head.
Reach out and stab someone
– Tyson
They party had a discussion about how everyone seems out to get them. You know, because they are. Exhausted and frustrated by a day of confusion and chaos, Farrow appeared from the shadows again and led them away.
When they asked where they were going Farrow said “Nowhere.”
They party had a discussion about how everyone seems out to get them. You know, because they are. Exhausted and frustrated by a day of confusion and chaos, Farrow appeared from the shadows again and led them away. When they asked where they were going Farrow said “Nowhere.”
Originally, I was going to use the encounter as a way to bring the Drowned Nation into the situation, having the Sahuagin leave, albeit upset at the PCs, if they did not start shit. This helped pad the adventure, especially since I was acutely aware that they had not rested since they arrived in Sigil during the previous game.
Time to Meet the Whole Family
The party was led up to and out of a sever grate much like the one they descened into in the last article and foud themselves in Nowhere, sort of the armpit of Sigil. It’s a place where forgotten factions go to die. I described it as a bleak, run down, decaying part of town where denizens shuffle to and frow with slumped shoulders. Where they were noticed everywhere else they went, the citizens of Nowhere didn’t even look up to notice them, simply parted to let them pass without acknowledgement.
Farrow shifted their way to and frow and brought the adventurers before an open stone lined hole in the ground. Turns out there were five rings of slowly rotating blades. Each ring had a smaller circumference than the one above it, and they were slowly rotating in opposed directions to the ring above or below it. If this wasn’t intimidating enough, there was a wooden platform staked into the ground, and a stairway without railings that zig-zagged down the 70 or so feet below.
They had found the Pit of Blades (also known as the Razorpit), a crappy bar at the bottom of the most depressing part of of Sigil. Jhell O asked them to take a seat for a moment and led Farrow away to wall behind the bar that hid a barely hidden secret door.
Behind the irregular stone bar stook an Arakocra with the right side of his face burnt and a patch over a presumably missing eye. Carrying drinks away from the bar was a disgruntled bugbear barmaid that sounded like she smoked a couple packs a day and called them all “hun.” Unknown to the party, I filled the bar with potential sidequests: A table full of Kobolds seemlingly celbrating a victory around a tiny white dragon sitting on the table, a Kenku sat between a matching pair of featureless shifters and speaking to a drow with a ghostly arm and two Deniers talking about how going through a portal kills you, just to name a few opportunities.
I let them jibber-jabber for a few moments. Q’or half-talked half-instigated with the Kenku that seemed to be eyeballing them. They were well on their way to picking a largely unnecessary fight when Jhell returned, saving the day by pulling them away. They passed under rotating blades hoping to get some answers.
What they got was a few introductions and some more questions. They met Accittaz, the Factoral of the minor faction called the Cosmomancers. He briefly explains that their philosophy is that reality is like a plate perilously balanced upon a cosmic needle of sorts, and should one alignment take hold more power than the others, all of reality would slide off. And shatter.
Accittaz swung into a monologue “You have the mark. Your destiny is set. Just like our friend Jhell, Brick and a few others throughout the Cage, you have been brought here against your will. and truly we don’t know why, but, we know its important and aligns with our mission, our goal, the very philosophy by which we believe that reality functions.
Those others are wrong.
The Bleak Cabal thinks there is no great truth, but, balance is the truth.
The universe will only crumble if balance is broken, unlike the beliefs of the sad misguided Doomguard.
The fraternity of order would push the scales past the limit if they had their way, same goes for the Hands of Havoc and their nonsense.”
Accittaz then went on to say that the marks they had on their souls were shared by a few of their newly arrived friends. They were introduced to a bunch of other adventurers that he described as Marked in addition to Jhell and Brick whom they had already met. Questioning what was going on, Accittaz explained that no one was sure why they had been plucked from their lives, but that it was clear they were here to support balance. He would support them, but it was their job to find out whom or what took them and why. Like I said, more questions.
Time was short, as several of the Marked had already been killed. Jhell informed the group that they would know, when new marked arrived or died and that’s how he was able to locate them so quickly, when they arrived. Jhell suggested they look at hall of information (or was it records? I might have fucked that up). Anything could be found at the Bazaar reconned Brick, so clearly they could find information there, and if not, the Market ward also housed an interdimensional bank. Bank heist maybe? Lastly, Farrow suggested that their normal employer at the Fortune’s Wheel casino was famous for knowing things she shouldn’t and it might be worth asking. The bait was set. All I needed now was to know where they wanted to go next.
The group finally got to rest in a shabby barracks with shoddy cots. Each of them experienced a bit of a nightmare: all they remembered was arguing with themselves, and being upset, but failing to hold onto what they had discussed or why they all felt worse in the morning. But, they had their spell slots and hit points back at least.
Morning arrived. It was time to decide what to do. After a brief chat in character, the players decided to accompany Brick to the Bazaar in the Market Ward and maybe check out the Bank.
Bring out your Dead (Nation)
Their new friend and one-time savior Brickhouse led them away from the Pit of Blades, pronouncing in rapid fire procession all the things he wants to buy at the bazaar, up to and including an entire bandoleer of longswords, because he was just too big to throw knives. I spent a few moments entertaining the group by spouting entertaining in-character nonsense until they were all in my spell. Then I slapped them in the face.
Lost in conversation, Brick halted, and the group found themselves face to face with a bloody visage. Before them, stood a Ghast, not slavering and aggressive, but, dressed in finery, albeit dirty and torn finery. And, yeah, aggressive still. And there was a raven glaring at the players upon the Ghast’s left shoulder. On his flanks stood a pair of Ghouls that I described as dressed like the goons from Clockwork Orange, but with blood down their white shirts instead of milk. Behind them, blocking the way back with it’s bulk, was a massive centaur skeleton that slotted in behind them.
I was told to bring you in alive if I could, but, know that the Dead Nation can still question your corpses, and may get to the answers we seek more efficiently that way!
– Dire, Ghastly Jerk
And here it comes. This entire encounter was added to the plan. I had always intended to introduce the Drowned Nation in this game and the Dead nation later. Instead, I would take the opportunity to pull the group away from their walk towards the part of my game for which I had planned nothing. Just like the spell that locked down Jhell O, I would hold the party at the end of the evening. Ta da. Player agency for the next game and time for me to plan. That’s the view behind Oz, but now I had to make sure it was enjoyable.
I could tell that Q’or wanted to fight, but ultimately the team decided to go along: Z pointed out that they had made enough enemies since they arrived in the city. They were led along through crypts, down stairs first through a room with hundreds of skeletons standing in rows, each turned and watched the group as they walked through the room. Down further and they passed through a corridor of psychic pain where ghosts flash back and forth through the walls wailing and complaining about all the tasks they had not completed in life. One of them referred to their unpainted warhammer army.
Further down they went to the lowest level of the crypt they entered the Zombie room where they marched slowly in circles forever on both sides of the raised walkway. As the stairway started to ascend, and the party with it, they found themselves above the ghoul pits on either side of the walkway, where many ravaging nasties clambering over one another like a mosh pit, only slightly more bloody than an average metal show. When asked what they were doing, Dire stated that they were living their best unlives. He asked the questioner if they wanted to join in, stating he looked like he would enjoy a fight. Q’or smartly declined and they arrived at the culmination of their journey.
The Silent King
Thrust into the ossuary like throne room the players found themselves in a room that looks like a cathedral of black stone with bone accents, each nave with an armored skeleton. Flanking the entrance they had just passed through stood a flaming skeletons on each side, and the Ghast and his ghoulish cronies walked to a corner to watch what was about to unfold. Before them was a throne of bone. Directly behind the chair stands a hulking revenent built from many corpses, to the left Was vampire lord in a spectacular dress of the finest design and a black armored death knight was to the right side. Seated before them was emaciated man in half plate and chainmail with a shining sword held loosely in one hand, the other lifelessly clutching the armrest, his eyes sunken, head leaning to the side and mouth open as if unconscious.
The crow cawed and flew to shoulder of the Silent King. I made the group wait, letting the silence draw out before the Silent King spoke: when he did so, he did through the Death Knight, as if it were a fantasy Bluetooth speaker. It asked questions, slowly: His mistress wants to know what their intentions are. Why they have disrupted fate? He is illusive about it, but eventually refers to his mistress as the Queen of Death.
Between that an the Raven, most of the party picked up on what was goin on.
You guessed it: The Raven Queen. She was upset and wanted answers as to why they had been plucked from both fate and time, because, of course, both eventually end at the same place: death. The lady Vampire whispers into the ear of the Silent King, and eventually, realizing they have no actual answers themselves, are allowed to leave. But they will be watched.
The group makes a retreat, quickly but cautiously the way they were brought before the leader of the undead within the city of Sigil. As they emerged from the Dead Nation, lucky to escape with their lives, the found Dire leaning against a wall watching them emerge. I shit you not, he was using a taloned fingerbone to pick his wretched teeth, while he cackled at them. Tweddle-dee and Tweedle-dum stood behind him, blood-covered shit eating grins across their faces as they watched the party.
Once again appearing as if from no where (possibly from Nowhere) Farrow, in subdued tones as always, interrogated Brick as to what in the fuck had he gotten them into. No longer satisfied with letting Brick lead the way, Farrow decided to show them through the secret ways to the Market Ward. To be continued… obviously.
There is some serious planning in my near future. Honestly I should probably be doing that instead of writing this article.
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Tyson
Obsessive and neurotic collector of little plastic men, novels about the same little plastic men and paints to make the little plastic men pretty. Married to Kera, who puts up with him and pretends that she doesn’t hear him speaking to the little plastic men in between making pew pew noises in the hobby room. Requires adult supervision. A menace to himself but rarely to others. More beard than man
