We’ve been hard at work getting ready for season two of Tales from the Tower, our streaming show coming to Twitch on January 6th! Last season was all Conan: Adventures in an Age Undreamed of, full of more grit than sandpaper in a desert. This time, we’re wrestling, and it’ll be full of blood, glitter, revenge, and tragedy.
Have you made your own campaign world? Let’s give it some holidays to celebrate!
Qua’Jon’s body hit the ground with a thud. He lay there for a moment, unsure of what was happening. He had seen Gwenich walk behind him with the knife, and suddenly his body was no longer supported by the bounds that held him. He rolled to his back, soft black dirt clinging to his tattered garments. Gwenich stood above him, knife in hand. The strange smile had never left her face.
“I know you like the elf, Eernon, but we can’t be riskin’ him being close to his people. He’d find some way to alert the guards and you won’t ever learn no magic. This is crazy. Jus’ let me put a point in ‘im and we don’t have to worry.”
Eernon looked at Vanlaug with anger in her eyes. “The elf lives. I’d sooner kill you at this point.”
“He’s right, Eernon. We don’t have to kill him, but we can’t take him with us.”
The voice was Ingdols. Gwenich could recognize it, though she could not see its source. He sounded far away, as if he were yelling through a wall. Her eyes were full of ghost images of the forest: vague outlines of trees and brush, a grey smudge where the cave had been. It was all fading slowly to black, leaving her field of vision a dark impenetrable curtain.
“Gwenich! Yarlloth fight me, girl. Can you hear me?”
Most people glorify the long running D&D campaign. We all love the Lord of the Rings, right? The default mode of play seems to be the vast world spanning quest of epic proportions, saving the universe from an antagonist with unimaginable power. Every game just serves to move along a huge overarching plot. Personally, I love this.
Some one rolls dice, you get hit, you lose hit points. You run out of hit points, you’re dead. That is how D&D works.
What are hit points, though? Most people view it as a relative measure of health. You get stabbed, your health decreases. You get stabbed again, the process repeats itself. Eventually, you just run out of health.
What I’m proposing here isn’t a new concept. I know I got the idea from reading about it somewhere else many years ago. If I could remember where, I’d give it some credit. It was an idea that really stuck with me, though. Hit points actually represents a number of things: health, how tired you are, the strength of your sword arm… hit points ultimately show how close you are to death, but not necessarily health. Continue reading “Crumbling UpKeep: A Different Take on Hit Points”
She wished she could count the rain drops. They came through the air in an ever increasing rate, causing a beautiful anxiety to well up in her stomach. Gwenich was anticipating something, though what it was she did not know. There was something in the very air itself that she couldn’t quantify. It was like the charged electricity before a storm but different. It was softer and more deadly. It felt like whatever waited behind it all could tear the world apart. Continue reading “The Coming of the Astar Uln, Part 12”
“I rolled a 17. Does that hit?”
“Yeah. Roll for damage.”
“Okay, that’s… 8 points of piercing and 6 points of radiant damage.”
“Okay, next player…”
Sound familiar? Combat starts and the game suddenly becomes just a long drown out battle of dice rolling, especially when all your flashy powers are used up. It feels sterile and players can quickly become bored if they’re just waiting to roll above a certain number. How can you keep combat fresh and keep the players engaged?
Nothing beats sitting around the table with your friends and playing games. It’s great to be face to face and riff off of each other, planning out rounds on a grid board and playing off of each others jokes. Share a drink or two and you have a nice low key evening full of adventure with, hopefully, some of your favorite people.
Sometimes your people aren’t in the same town, however.
Venul ran her soft hand over the child’s face, smoothing her hair and caressing her jaw. She was careful to stay away from the now bandaged wound Mishtil had sustained. She gazed at the unconscious goddess lovingly, a small amount of concerned pain milling with the peace in her eyes. Her finger tips trembled despite herself as she thought of what would have happened had Tadis not been hunting and came upon her.
“Sweet Tadis. You are truly a blessing. You are stern, yet soft of heart. Thank you for saving our young goddess.”
Mental health has a stigma surrounding it. We all know this. It’s a tough thing to talk about, which makes it a tough thing to deal with. I’ve urged many a friend to open up and spent a good amount of time letting people know that their feelings are valid and that they aren’t their anxiety. Sometimes just being heard makes it a little better, takes the edge off. Sometimes talking about it helps.
I’ve found this advice much easier to follow when I’m on the listening side than the talking side, however.
By now, we’ve started season two of Tales from the Tower on Twitch. We’re playing World Wide Wrestling, a game about being a professional wrestler. We’ve had a blast getting together costumes and creating the back stories for this little world. I’ve personally spent a lot of time on YouTube watching old matches and promos for research. While it’s been a lot of fun, I’ve also learned some things.
Wrestling has some great villains.
We have an exclusive interview with the Baltimore Barbarian! A veteran in the world of wrestling, he’s looking to make his mark in the relatively new American Wrestling Federation Ultra League. Get a look into the man’s mind above.
Coming to Twitch on January 6, 2019 @10PM Est, 7 PM Pst.
Mishtil and Drugar Wormchomper had wandered around the woods for half the day. Dusk was starting to blanket the land as the sun sank behind the western hills. The brilliant shades of autumn afternoon were giving away to soft shadow bathed in crisp air. Still, the other companions we’re not found.
Currently, the pair sat with their backs to a great oak. Mishtil had found some apples in the wood that she now cheerily munched on, her feet swaying back and forth to some imaginary tune. The child goddess had begun to worry, but that dissolved as the sweet juices of the fall fruit sat upon her lips. Her free hand stroked Wormchomper’s head as the badger nestled it against her leg.