The Discworld:
The Disc sits like a dinner plate, turning slowly and endlessly spilling water over its rim, on the backs of four giant elephants, which stand more or less stoically on the back of an humongous turtle, the great A'tuin. The moon and the Sun zoom around the Disc with scant regard for fanciful theories of ball bearings rolling across rubbery space-time dished by heavy globes of rock.
Ankh-Morpork:
Arguably the greatest city on the disc (certainly the most diverse in terms of population), Ankh-Morpork straddles the river Ankh, which flows sluggishly under a crust best not broken by the faint of heart and sensitive of nose. The city has many wonders, chief of which must be the Tower of Art of the Unseen University, which soars into the sky like a giant, soaring thing. The city is host to a number of guilds (a number not easily counted by most citizens, but The Patrician probably has plans to improve the public education system to address this lamentable lack); it will be the Thieves Guild that interests out players the most, as they are fully paid-up members in, if not good standing, at least standing with both legs intact.
The Discworld RPG:
The system looks to have lifted ideas for a variety of game systems and stirred them into an very interesting way of "agency negotiation" in a Discworld milieu.
The mechanics are simple, but may seem strange to conventional RPG players.
A character sheet is a set of statements defining the characters in the most nebulous fashion possible while still nailing the essence of the character in question. (This looks remarkably similar to FATE to these old eyes).
The GM and players can use these statements to adjudicate those points in an adventure where randomicity might otherwise hold sway, and the way it is done allows players to be as inventive with their "defining" statements as they think they can get away with as justification for the ability to get something done their way. Word play is encouraged, as is a light-hearted approach to the game.
The GM's job as far as this goes is to hear out the players vocal shenanigans and determine the difficulty die rating for the task accordingly. Die types that may be assigned are: D4, D6, D10 and D12 for increasing GM buy-in and likelihood of gaining control of the narrative.
The GM rolls a D8, and scores are compared. The winner gets control of that part of the narrative.
Example: Cheery Littlebottom, forensic alchemist for the Night Watch, wants to use her "Expert Alchemist" trait to allow her to construct an ad-hoc explosive to blow open the door of the dungeon she has been incarcerated in by troll mobsters. The GM says this is a great idea and alows a D12 for the attempt. Said GM rolls a D8.
Cheery's player wins the roll: "Your scavenging results in a foul-smelling mixture you *think* will do the trick. Striking one of your boot heels against the flagstones, you hit the stinking pile with a spark. There is a very loud BANG and the door disappears outwards in a hail of wood, red hot nails and sundry bits of the lock, causing some serious damage to the troll standing guard outside. You are flung into a pile of old sacks, your ears ringing but otherwise you are unharmed."
GM wins the roll: "Your scavenging results in a foul-smelling mixture you *think* will do the trick. Striking one of your boot heels against the flagstones, you hit the stinking pile with a spark. There is a very loud BANG and the ceiling falls in on you as the door disappears outwards in a hail of wood, red hot nails and sundry bits of the lock, causing some serious damage to the troll standing guard outside. Cheery now has the "badly beaned" consequence."
This is a poor but reasonable account of an imaginary encounter in this imaginary world.
1 comment:
Saw this at LI Expo. I'm not going to be able to play because it overlaps with my own game, but I hope you'll be running it again soon.
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