Book Notes: Vienna, 1812

I'm not great on European history between 1700 and 1900. In particular, my knowledge of Napoleon has always been very fuzzy. The story I learned in school took about two paragraphs and ended something like:

"After the collapse of his army in Russia, the Allied nations invaded France and forced Napoleon into exile. He was sent to Elba and Louis XVIII was placed on the throne. Napoleon escaped Elba, returned to France, and raised another army. But then the English got the cane out of the cupboard and gave him a damn good thrashing at Waterloo. The Allies sent him off to St. Helena where he lived out the rest of his days."

So like many things - the order blood is pumped around the heart, where Jakarta, etc. - I filed it under "Things I Vaguely Know But Will Look Up As Needed" and thought no more about it.

But last week on a whim I picked up Vienna, 1814 by David King and it turns out my mental picture of events is entirely wrong. In case this is news to you too, I figured I'd put the most interesting bits in a blog posts. If its not news to you, feel free to marvel at the state of North American education.

What To Do With An Emperor: Napoleon in Elba

Elba is a small island off the coast of Italy. I thought - based on the story I'd been told,  not any actual facts - that Napoleon had been shipped off to a sort of sunny Mediterranean prison. Sure, he could walk on the beach and stare at the far-off coast of France, but he was still a prisoner on a small bit of rock, guarded and blockaded and watched day and night.

Turns out Elba's not that small and, by any definition of the word, Napoleon wasn't a prisoner. It's arguable he wasn't even exiled.

The Treaty of Fontainbleu (1814) set the terms of Napoleon's abdication. Despite the grand-sounding introduction with its long list of titles, the treaty was primarily the creation of Tsar Alexander I. He'd promised Napoleon very generous terms and Napoleon had agreed; the rest of the Grand Alliance would  have to live with it.

• ART. III. The island of Elba, adopted by his Majesty the Emperor Napoleon, for the place of his residence, shall form, during his life, a separate principality, which shall be possessed by him in all sovereignty and property.
• ART. XVI. There shall be furnished an armed corvette and the vessels of transport necessary to conduct to the place of his destination his Majesty the Emperor Napoleon, as well as his household. The corvette shall remain the full property of his majesty.
• ART. XVII. His Majesty the Emperor Napoleon can take with him, and keep for his guard, 400 men, volunteers, officers, subofficers, and soldiers.

Elba wasn't even the Tsar's to give away. A 20-year-old Elban would had already lived under Neapolitan, French Royalist (arguable, but 4,000 armed French royalists living on an island of 12,000 certainly affects the balance of power), English, French, and Hapsburg rule. In 1814 the island belonged to the restored duchy of Tuscany; the Hapsburgs didn't appreciate putting Napoleon, who was sure to be a magnet for trouble, on their undefended southern border.

While Britain refused to sign the treaty, none of the Great Powers were in a position to refuse the Tsar. Napoleon went to Elba and immediately started ruling the place with his characteristic energy. The Elbans seemed to like him; he was naturally charismatic, didn't mind the cobbled-together throne room they'd built, and brought a surprising amount of money to the island.

I get the sense, reading over contemporary accounts, that Napoleon behaved like an energetic dad who'd just retired from leading a huge multinational corporation. Renovations, projects, meddling, and improvements abounded. The treaty had allotted him 400 guards but, soon after arrival, he'd acquired at least 1,000 soldiers. Compared to his invincible Grande Armée it was nothing, but it hardly fits the image of a deserted, exiled Emperor. He had a handful of generals and a proper Navy -  a 16 gun brig, a three-masted corvette, and a tiny 6-ton light boat of some sort.

If Louis XVIII had been more popular, if things hadn't gone the way they did, Napoleon might have remained on Elba forever, turning it into a sort of pocket kingdom with an eccentric but lovable dictator, forever fighting pirates and issuing demands and getting up to hare-brained schemes. He'd already "conquered" the tiny unihnabited islands of Pianosa and Palmaiola. Who knows? Maybe he'd have taken Montecristo from the Hapsburgs.

France had, at least, stripped Elba's meager arsenal and treasury before turning the island over to its new ruler. The new government also refused to pay Napoleon the vast sums specified in the treaty or income from his "personal property" in France and elsewhere.

Ooh, One More Time, I'm Back With A New Rhyme: Napoleon Returns

Nothing in the Treaty of Fontainbleu prevented Napoleon from returning to France. The Inconstant, his brig, needed repairs. Conveniently, these includes strengthening the masts and adding a new coat of paint that, from a distance, made her resemble a British ship. She probably couldn't outrun a proper warship but she probably wouldn't need to; no one was blockading Elba.

Britain, Austria, and France had all expressed alarm at leaving Napoleon so close to Europe and had several times suggested moving him somewhere more remote. Nothing had been done. And now, as pretty much everyone had predicted, he was back.

I'd always imagined Napoleon slinking down to a small ship in the dead of night, assisted by a few loyal soldiers and secret agents, and slipping away before anyone noticed. Instead...

Joseph Beaume

Anyway, the Hundred Days happened, and after a few hundred thousand more casualties, Napoleon abdicated, boarded the HMS Bellerophon, and surrendered. The British shipped him to St. Helena where he was more-or-less properly placed under house arrest. Though he still seemed to have a surprising number of friends, visitors, and servants, he was no longer ruler of anything.

Le Rivage Fatal

St. Helena was, in many ways, the obvious choice. Literally in the middle of nowhere, any further attempts to escape or stir up trouble would be more or less impossible.

But St. Helena wasn't the only option. Shipping Napoleon to Botany Bay was also suggested (though I'm not inclined to dig through the primary source documents to find out by whom).

There's an idea for an alt-history novel. Napoleon and a selection of troublesome generals and appointed kings are shipped to Botany Bay, arriving in 1815. He isn't treated like a typical convict. His English slowly improves. Despite periods of deep depression and lamenting his poor fortune, he throws himself into his work and assists in organizing and improving the penal colony, rapidly becoming indispensable. A route to the interior was only discovered in 1813; most of the region was still unmapped.

If a few die-hard supporters arrived in a ship...
   And Napoleon could gain a reputation among the English colonists (Byron liked him; others might too)...
      And everything went just right...
         Well, he might have thrown the dice again. During his second surrender he'd styled himself as Themistocles; maybe he'd take a turn at playing Spartacus.

No Refunds

I think most people know about the Louisiana Purchase. I didn't know that, in 1814, Spain demanded a refund. They'd ceded Louisiana to France in, oddly enough, another Treaty of Fontainebleau (1762) and France had sold it without letting Spain bid for it first. The Vienna Congress - Britain, in particular - were asked to correct this injustice.

Britain had just ended a war with the United States and had no desire for another one. As part of an agreement to end the slave trade, they offered Spain 400,000 pounds (100,000 pounds over the sale price of Louisiana). Spain accepted. Amusingly, Charles Maurice de Talleyrand was present for the negotiations. He'd pocketed up to one third of the original Louisiana Purchase price.

Plot Seeds from Vienna, 1814

1. A large empire has collapsed and everyone wants their art back. The PCs are hired to transport priceless paintings and statues from one city to another. Will some go "missing" along the way? Will some arrive in an unusual state?

2. A large empire looted the valuable archives of a holy city. The Church wants some books back. Urgently. Really, it's very important that a few books from a very special lead-lined vault are returned immediately.

3. A former tyrant gave one of his hot-headed cavalry commanders a small but strategically placed kingdom. Everyone, including the exiled rules of the kingdom, agree they'd be much happier if the commander went away but he refuses to leave. The PCs are hired to bait him into an ill-advised war or, if that fails, push him off a balcony.

4. The secret service has been opening all diplomatic mail in and out of the city. They accidentally swapped letters and envelopes. The PCs need to break into two embassies and swap the letters before they are opened.

5. The king of a small nation has fallen in love with a flower-stall girl. Something must be done. He keeps missing vital conference meetings.

6. At a masked ball, a PC is seduced by a beautiful woman. Turns out she's a princess (not surprising). But she's also the lover of a very powerful prince from a neighboring kingdom (somewhat worrying). And she's also married to the very powerful prince from this kingdom (alarming). And the PC has left a monogrammed hat/handkerchief in her bedroom.

7. Three thousand silver Imperial teaspoons were stolen from a banquet. The monarch wants them back. There's a bounty on them. The PCs can make some money tracking them down but plenty more money making fake silver spoons from lead and tin.

8. The ambassador insists on driving his carriage from the embassy one or more of the local brothels. More worryingly, he insists on driving it back, usually while blackout drunk and belligerent. The PCs are assigned to keep an eye on him. Hijinks ensue.

9. The crown princes of two neighboring kingdoms have challenged each other to a duel over a botched game of "blindman's bluff". The PCs were present and know that one of the princes really was cheating. Do they reveal this fact (and guarantee a duel and perhaps a war) or lie (and defuse the situation)?

10. A former emperor lives in relative seclusion. Breaking into his castle kidnapping him will be difficult but immensely profitable.

11. The ambassador is not complying with his government's wishes. He will soon be recalled and replaced. The PCs must intercept and destroy any letters from the government to the ambassador.

12. An enormous mansion is on fire. Quick! Help "extinguish the fire" and "rescue valuable treasures". I mean, it's all going to burn anyway, right? One team inside throwing things out the window, one team on the lawn hauling them into the forest.

13. A former emperor needs new furniture. Take this ship and raid the abandoned palaces of a treacherous relative.

14. The PCs are hired to entertain a huge crowd of rulers and their entourages at a semi-formal event. They'd better come up with something impressive. Ghost stories are fashionable right now.

15. There's a new rich young man in town, heir to an enormous fortune. He's got a weakness for cards and the poker face of a comic mime. Can the PCs save him from hordes of ravenous card sharks (and sponge a reward from him) or will they race to fleece him in new and exciting ways?

16. The next ball's theme requires everyone to wear "local peasant costumes" and perform "authentic peasant dances". The PCs are instructed - on pain of death - to round up some local peasants for the local despot to use as models.

17. A powerful ruler is obsessed with a rural prophetess. He reads her letters hundreds of times, dissecting every word and praying well into the night. Her handwriting is... unique, but it might just be possible to forge.

18. Tomorrow evening a gift lottery will be held at the palace. Everyone will bring a suitably valuable gift, then exchange them at random. Someone's slipped a cursed or ill-omened item into the mix. Who, and why?

19. As a joke, the ambassador printed a fake newspaper calling for the "Immediate Assassination" of an underling and promising an enormous reward in the name of a feared tyrant. The underling, always a bit nervous, had a breakdown and fled into the night with a case full of vital documents, the embassy treasury, and six loaded pistols. The PCs need to track  him down.

20. The PCs, survivors of a great battle, are hired by a group of poets to provide a tour of the battlefield. They may need to make up some suitably heroic deeds or reconcile the official accounts with the actual geography.

OSR: Pirates of the Merabaha, Session 3 & 4

I've been very lax on my session writeups. Time to catch up.

Last session, four impromptu pirates managed to escape the Wexlish Navy, beach a stolen frigate, steal a much more sensibly sized ship from a veteran pirate crew. The PCs are:

Beatrix, a Tarraconese carpenter, engineer, and smooth talking hustler. Elected captain... because nobody else wanted the job.

Imran Goldmaker, an experienced merchant and occasional pirate from the Golden Isles. The ship's quartermaster (a job he's qualified for) and navigator (significantly less so).

Nyali Utugelu, a Chultan shopkeeper turned arsonist turned gun captain.

Gunter von Steenberger, a dockworker from the Ranstead League with near-mythical strength. Not much good with letters but he keeps the crew in line.

The slim coastal cutter The Magestic sailed around the south side of the Isla de Caracol, heading for the notorious pirate town of Porta de Caracol. Nominally Wexlish, the town's governor had been driven off years ago.

The town was significantly less impressive than the PCs expected. A few rotting warehouses dotted the long grey beach. Many pirates, vagabonds, and drunks slept in tents or under the open sky. Few wooden buildings exceeded two stories and there were only three stone buildings in town: the former governor's mansion (demolished and burned), a mysterious house on the hill (intact but windowless) and a ruined church (now a brothel).

The PCs sold the location of the wrecked Cimmeria to a local warehouse-keeper, held a sumptuous party to improve crew morale, restocked their supplies, and tried to decide what to do with their lives. Their safety was by no means certain. The Wexlish Navy, irritated by the loss of one of their most powerful ships in the region, could easily track them to the pirate port and burn the place to the ground. Their crew was not terribly loyal; a simple reward or offer of amnesty could ruin them all.

Captain Beatrix managed to arrange a meeting with the mysterious Sarah Soran, owner of the fortress-house, collector of "antiquities", former mistress of the governor, and, if rumour was to be believed, something not of this earth.

The PCs speculated wildly. Madame Soran was never seen outside her house during the day, always wore a large hat, never ate in public (but drank wine), and seemed to hold the pirates of the town in a fear-induced trance. Gunter thought she was "a night-creature, a wampyre". Nyali thought she might be a sea-goddess (not unknown in Chult, apparently). Beatrix thought she might just be one of those wise old ladies nobody fucks with; Imran wasn't convinced.

Whatever she was, Madame Soran mentioned a small fishing village west of the island. The isolated village had "a certain article, a brass sphere on a chain" that she desired. "The superstitious fishermen protect it with their lives," she said, "but I'm sure a small raiding crew could steal it without much danger. Anything else you take is yours, of course."

In exchange for accurate charts and a small reward, the party accepted her offer. The next morning, somewhat hung over, they set sail with the tide.

Note: this next section, between the next two pieces of art, contains spoilers for Michael Prescott's adventure The God Unmoving. You've been warned.

Mark Peckham

The notorious fog of the Wretched Reef descended that evening. The sea monster Beatrix had spotted on their previous journey did not reappear. The four fishermen the crew had picked up on their journey to the Isla de Caracol were not thrilled about their destination; they hailed from the same fishing village the crew was going to raid and refused to participate. Gunter threw all four of them in the ship's "brig" (really just an empty arms locker) and threatened them with keel-hauling, trepanning, and anything else he could come up with. His threats had no effect.

By the light of the full moon, the party eventually found the Bay Unmoving. Gulling the sleepy sentries into letting them pass, the Majestic slipped into the harbour. The village was nothing more than a collection of shacks scattered on a series of bare stone islands. One "edge" of the village was made of a truly gigantic wreck, a broken ship larger than anything the pirate crew had ever seen. Imran speculated it was a treasure-ship from Yoon-Suin, though how it had come to rest here he couldn't say.

The raid was a debacle. Though  Beatrix tried to use the four capture fishermen as hostages, the situation rapidly spiraled out of control as the pirate crew, let loose on a sleeping island, began burning houses, smashing windows, and hauling anything valuable back to the ship. Approaching boats were sunk with cannonfire.

The PCs, with a hand-picked crew of raiders, rapidly rowed over to the colossal hulk to search it for treasures before the entire village could descend upon them. Their exploration did not go well. Although they found some gold and avoided a few traps, Gunter was devoured by hungry predatory fish in the bowels of the wreck. The remaining PCs found the "copper mace" they'd been sent to obtain. The mysterious relic was kept in a transparent bladder. When Beatrix touched the metal, her arm locked in place and green tendrils began to worm their way up her arm. Imran lopped her arm off and carried the half-delirious captain back to their boat, carefully keeping the relic inside its protective case.

According to Imran, Nyali, and several surviving pirates, their rowboat was pursued by a "great glowing sea-monster, a hundred-armed thing with a body made of light". They fended it off with pistol shots and bombs thrown into the water (Nyali exhausting her legendarily prolific supply of gunpowder), raced back to the Majestic, made sail, and tore out of the bay as quickly as they could. Though the Majestic was lightly damaged by their hasty escape and a few tardy pirates were, no doubt, lynched by the enraged villagers, but as the sun rose the crew of the Majestic were richer, if not happier, than they'd been the previous day.

Michael Prescott

Back at the Porta de Caracol, Imran hastily delivered the copper mace to Sarah Soran's fortress-house, then returned to check on Beatrix. She seemed to be dealing with the loss of her arm with remarkable composure, working closely with a carpenter to have a hooked replacement made. The crew was impressed.

Enriched by their labours, if slightly worried about sea monsters and "bad magic", as Nyali put it, the crew let loose with another riotous party. Convalescing in the Majestic, Beatrix came up with a long-term plan.

The Majestic would be renamed the Magnificient, re-dedicated, and repainted. It would be careened, a ludicrously undignified process, to clean and patch the hull. They'd take the ship south, pass through Valois and Tarraconese territory, then head out to sea for the long journey to Chult. That vast continent had barely been explored and Beatrix was sure there were vast profits to be made far from the reach of the Old World powers.

Attempts to recruit a trained navigator were unsuccessful, but Imran did manage to find someone with "sufficient book-learning" to read a chart.

John Wex the Bastard, a disgraced sailor with scraps of an education, was renown in port as an expert on "books of all sorts." With the authority of Bullfighter's Mythology, Fraiser's Golden Sticks, and Salty and Salacious Tales of the Sea Volume IV, John Wex could offer advice on any situation natural, supernatural, historical, or practical. His advice wasn't good but it was cheap.

After two weeks of work (for at least two hours a day), drinking, whoring, and fighting (for up to the remaining twenty-two), the crew of the Magnificient finally set sail. Nyali performed some obscure rituals to placate the wrath of the sea (all of which involved drinking more rum). The sea was calm and the weather was fine.

No ships were spotted for the first two days but on the evening of the third, with the sun fading, the lookout spotted lights on the horizon. The Majestic slowly crept closer in the dark. By the light of dawn the crew realized they'd come up on a slow-moving Tarraconese convoy, spread out by weather and by poor seamanship.

Beatrix picked out a slow-moving eight-gun vessel near the rear of the convoy and, with very favorable winds, approached from dead astern while flying a Tarraconese flag. When they were a few hundred yards apart, the Majestic ran up a red pennant (a traditional pirate flag), fired a warning shot, and hailed the vessel. After briefly attempting to flee, the ship hauled down its flags and closed its gun ports.

The reason for this abrupt surrender became clear when the Imran and company boarded the vessel. Their cargo was gunpowder; the entire hold was full of barrels. A single shot would have destroyed both the vessel and its crew. Beatrix ordered total restraint: the Tarraconese crew was spared, personal property of the sailors was not touched, and only the most choice cuts of meat and barrels of drink were taken, along with a hold full of the finest and driest Tarraconese gunpowder. John Wex, recognizing the value of paper, thoroughly looted the captain's diplomatic and trade documents.

Flush with success, the pirates put up the Valois flag and sailed into Red Sand Port. Combining all their expertise, they forged documents showing that they were legitimate traders in gunpowder; the Tarraconese marks on the barrels were hastily scraped off and replaced with inventive new designs. The tiny port welcomed these "legitimate traders"; pirates or not, they had goods to sell and the town's governor, Captain Henri Blane, was more than willing to buy. He offered Beatrix some advice on piracy and sent them on their way rich and happy.

From Red Sand Port, the Magnificient sailed towards the open sea, then cut south and away from the Merabaha Islands.

Two months later and low on food, the Majestic's lookout spotted the unmistakable grey line of the Mistcliff, the unmapped western coast of Chult. By luck more than skill, the crew had managed to hit the right continent, but they had no idea where precisely they were.

Would the PCs survive in this uncharted land? Would Captain Beatrix continue to avoid death and further dismemberment? Find out next time.

OSR: Mob Rules

One of my favorite Dickens books is Barnaby Rudge. It's not my favorite - I don't think it's anyone's favorite - but it's got some very interesting features.

There's a standard-issue romance-murder-inheritance-mystery plot with the usual array of charming Dickensian characters (you don't have to look far on the internet to find an abundance of Simon Tappertits) but there's also, through the last chapters of the book, a colossal world-shattering riot. Society is upturned. The Mob is a living, breathing character in the novel. I've tried to give it OSR-style stats here. They're still undergoing testing. The final version will be published in Magical Industrial Revolution.

The Mob

HD: Varies. The Mob has HD (Hit Dice, d8s) based on its Cause. I've listed HP values to save  rolling if you're in a hurry.

20 HD (80 HP): Primal Needs (Food, Water, Money, Alcohol, The Good Life)
15 HD (60 HP): Infamous Crisis (as promoted by the Newspapers, see below)
10 HD (40 HP): Political Strife (Gumperts vs. Bogs)
5 HD (20 HP): Local Injustice (Police Brutality, Increasing Rent)
1 HD (4 HP): Obscure Cause (Vegetarianism, Outlawing Gin)

A mob's HP represents both its size and its willingness to keep rioting or protesting. Any attack that deals more than 3 lethal damage kills someone in the Mob and requires a Morale check (see below). Nonlethal damage still does HP damage to a Mob, but represents members being bloodied, knocked out, arrested, or driven off. When a Mob's HP reaches zero it disintegrates. 

Appearance: A shouting, sweating crowd of people, mostly drawn from the Middle and Lower classes. Men, women, children, excitable dogs, and chickens. They may have unifying emblems (blue cockades, red ribbons, leeks, etc.). A Mob takes up part of a street, an entire street, several streets, or a square, depending on its size and ferocity.

Wants: to satisfy its Cause. In the absence of a strong reason not to, to run riot, have a good time, set some things on fire, and generally Show Those Bastards.

Armour: none. Any attack directed against the Mob automatically hits it.

Move: 1/2 normal, but can move in 2 directions at once. Can't race you but can outflank you.

Morale: 8

The Mob must test Morale when:
-It is confronted with a number of armed authority figures (Coppers, soldiers, etc.) equal to its HD
-One of its members dies (it takes 3 or more lethal damage from a single source)
-It kills its first person.

Roll 2d6. If you roll over the Mob's Morale, the Mob disintegrates. Constituent members flee, drop weapons, give up, get arrested, or go into hiding. If you roll equal to or under the Mob's Morale, it becomes Bloodthirsty.

A Bloodthirsty Mob does not need to test Morale. The only way to stop it is to reduce its HP to zero.

A Drunken Mob can reroll Morale tests. It costs [HD]x10gp in cheap gin to get a Mob drunk for 1 hour.

Demagogues, righteous causes, unrighteous causes, military leaders, preparation, illegal drugs, mind-control spells, and other tricks can increase or decrease the Mob's morale at the GM's discretion.

The presence of the Monarch reduces the Mob's Morale to 2 and requires an immediate Morale check.

Damage: The Mob has a number of attacks equal to its HD (or current HP / 4 if damaged). With each attack, it can either
-inflict 20gp worth of property damage to a nearby structure
-set something on fire
-make an attack roll against an adjacent person, dealing 1d6 lethal damage on a hit
-chant, wave flags, and shout

Mobs are not utterly murderous. Even a Bloodthirsty Mob won't kill more than 1 or 2 people a round. Instead, the Mob prefers to loot, smash, burn, bruise, humiliate, and generally run riot. The Mob assumes you're with it unless you make a serious attempt to oppose it, you look rich and worth robbing, or if you're part of the group against its Cause.

Upgrading A Mob: 
 A Mob can grow larger (effectively healing itself fully and gaining extra HD) by changing its Cause and attracting new members. It can only do this if it's had 1 hour of completely unchallenged rioting. Under normal circumstances, a mob has a 1-in-10 chance of upgrading per hour. Proper demagoguery, a city on edge, or free gin may increase this chance. Causes with more HD have wider appeal than causes with fewer HD. What starts as a political rally could easily turn into a riot against foreigners of all kinds, then grow again to a general orgy of violence and looting when unemployed and angry agricultural labourers join.

GMs Notes:
Hopefully these rules adequately represent the Mob as both an asset and a liability. If you want to get something done you can raise a Mob and hopefully point it at your enemies, but there's always a chance it will run out of control and start destroying everything.

Newspapers in Endon

Papers are sold in the streets. Most are daily; some have morning, afternoon, and evening editions. Without subscriptions to support them, many papers mostly depend on lurid and inaccurate stories or ill-gotten scoops to drive daily sales. Everyone who can read does so; everyone who can has someone who can read them interesting or sensational stories. They're sold so cheaply that they're effectively free (unless a player wants to start a bonfire or something ridiculous).

Illustrations (via lithography) are expensive but increasingly common. Magical enhancements such as moving pictures and sound recordings start to appear at [  ][  ] and are ubiquitous by [  ][  ][  ].

1d10	Newspaper Names
1		Herald
2		Trumpeter
3		Proclaimer
4		Monitor
5		Speculator
6	Daily	Connection
7	Universal	Express
8	Metropolitan	World
9	Inside	Mail
10	Truthful	Tribune

Every Innovation, Scandal, and Execution is reported with widely varying accuracy. Use the daily papers to drop hints and leads to your players. If they're stuck, if they're lost, if they've missed something vital, if you need to introduce an Innovation, put it in the paper. If they need a hint, say they've "read about it this morning" or "recall an article in the Spectator".

It costs 1d10gp to run an advertisement in a paper and 1d20gp to influence an editorial. To significantly influence discussion in the city Endon requires at least 200gp over 2 weeks period of 3 weeks. Threatening a few editors might also work.

It's possible to start a new paper. See Making Your Mark (not yet written).

OSR: What Time Is The Apocalypse?

I'm trying to get back into the habit of writing. It's like exercise. Stop for a bit and all the muscles go flabby. If this post is below my usual standards, think of it as the first jog after the Holiday gorge.

I've been struggling to define when my pre-apocalyptic setting is set.

"Medieval", especially "medieval fantasy" seems to cover everything from Constantine to Cromwell. Joan of Arc, Robin Hood, and Richard the Lionheart all happened at approximately the same time; before muskets, potatoes, the printing press, and ruffled collars, but after togas, orgies, and chariot racing.

Well, this is Restoration-Georgian-Regency-Victorian fantasy. It starts with liberalism and social change and ends with the first World War, but it's more focused on the middle bit than the transitions at either end. Charles Dickens could meet Sherlock Holmes at a coffee shop to discuss the new "going-up-and-down-a-bit-and-then-moving-along Gertrude" cloth-weaving machine, and then leap out of the way of a coal-powered Omnibus full of soldiers newly returned from some poorly thought-out foreign adventure.

As Blackadder Series 1 is to Medieval, so Blackadder Series 3 is to this setting. It's Discworld's Ankh-Morpork but with a bit less furious optimism.

London, Gustave Dore

Endon

Is London. That should be obvious. Not the real, historical London but the London of a thousand movies and TV series and novels and half-remembered anecdotes.
   If your group is intimately familiar with London, then it's Hong Kong.
      If your group is intimately familiar with both London and Hong Kong then it's New York.
         If your group is intimately familiar with London, Hong Kong, and New York, then what the hell are you doing playing RPGs? Clearly you've got a lot more interesting things to do with your time. Maybe you should be the ones writing a book, did you ever think of that? No? Well too bad, it's your job now. 

How Do I Use This In My Medieval Fantasy Game

Endon is an outlier. It's a few decades or centuries ahead of the curve. This isn't necessarily good thing. Endon's rise is like a firework; lots of glitter and sparks, but fundamentally unstable. For a time it's on the cutting edge of creation, but the book is about a pre-apocalyptic setting. Something's going to give. It doesn't have to make sense forever because it's not going to last forever; it's a violently unstable brew.

Until it all falls apart (and possibly takes the rest of the region/continent/world with it), Endon is the place to
-buy the latest fashions
-buy the most potent weapons
-meet the most elegant, refined, beautiful, seductive, poetic, etc, etc, people.
-meet people from any part of the world
-sell magic items for the most money
-get leads on the most profitable ventures

If you have a problem, if no other generic medieval fantasy city can help, if you can find it, maybe you can reach Endon.
Just make sure to look both ways before crossing the street.

Send your players there to solve some unrelated problem and see what they do. Drop rumours of Endon into generic medieval villages; a city lit by a thousand ever-burning lamps, a city where actresses dance with princes and even the poor eat steak.

If magic is unrestrained in the campaign, D&D quickly degenerates into a weird wizard show where players get bored quickly, or the referee is forced to change the game into a new framework which will accommodate what he has created by way of player-characters.
-Gary Gygax, The Strategic Review II, 1976

The goal is to make Endon a "weird wizard show" where the players won't have time to get bored because the world is falling apart around their ears, or because they're too busy making money/gaining political power to care. It's a new, temporary, bolt-on framework.

Infinitely Great Britain

This one's a freebie, unrelated to the rest of this post. You can have it. Go nuts.

I've always wanted to run a Victorian Stargate game. Maybe not based on the actual Stargate TV show but something similar. Victorian dimension hopping. Taking all the most fertile aspects of the UK (as seen on TV only) and parodying them to hell and gone. The crossover to end all crossovers.

Let the flag of Infinitely Great Britain fly over every world. Rule Britannia, Britannia rules the planes.

40k: Kill Team Update 2 + Inquisimunda

Gee, it's been a while. It's hard to type when your fingers are covered in superglue and your keyboard is covered in tiny plastic shavings. Don't worry, I'll be back soon enough.

The augmented warriors of the Adeptus Mechanicus look down upon their enemies and/or try to count the number of visible skulls on nearby buildings.

The Perfidious Eldar fight the Even More Perfidious Eldar.

The full terrain collection at the moment. The 1'x1' modular board segments very useful.

Kill Team (2018) is, essentially, a randomness-minimization game. You want to take as many good chances as possible and make your opponent take as many risky chances as possible. It's like chess.... except that a captured piece has a 50% chance to not be captured and you need to roll to see how many squares a Bishop, Knights, or Queen can move in a turn. And sometimes someone booby-traps your Rooks.

It's fun but it's not terribly deep. Some people on G+ were rumbling about using it as an RPG. I don't think it really works. Random chance is such a large component of the game that it's next to impossible to generate a narrative. The design space also feels very cramped. Everything is high-powered, slick, and superficial.

So while a Kill Team game is a fun way to burn an hour, I'd like to try to find a more interesting rules set. The rules used by the Inquisimunda/Pilgrym bloggers seem to very appealing rules set, given that it produces games like this. The rules are GLOG-like, in a way; cobbled together, highly adaptable, not really a system so much as a series of hints and hand gestures.

Vehicles from WarGameExclusive

Proposed Game

I haven't playtested this combo but I intend to give it a try.

Combat Rules: YakTribe's Necromunda Community Edition
I'm tempted to try out X-wing style alternative activations and see how badly it messes with the rules.

E.g. In the Movement phase, all models move in order of Initiative, lowest to highest, passing between players in the event of a tie. In the Shooting phase, all models shoot in order of Initiative, highest to lowest. So models with high initiative have a decent advantage; they get to react to other models' moves and get the first shots off. This should make the game feel a little more tactical and limit the dreadful waiting-around time that infests Gamesworkshop products, but it'll probably play merry hell with Overwatch and all that. We'll see.

Character Creation Rules: Iron Sleet's Rule of 12 (as summarized below)

Step 1. Take the basic Necromunda profile but with zero Wounds:

M	WS	BS	S	T	W	I	A	Ld
4	3	3	3	3	[0]	3	1	7

Distribute the following:

• 12 Wounds (so 12x 1 wound models, 4x 3 wound models, etc)
• 12 x +1 to any characteristic (max of
• 12 skills from Necromunda (PDF pg. 69 - 91)
• 12 pieces of equipment, armour, or weapons that aren't standard. All models come with a lasgun and a knife by default. (PDF pg. 33-57)

E.g.

I'd like to build a team with a Space Marine at its core. How much would a single Astartes cost?

M	WS	BS	S	T	W	I	A	Ld
4+1	3+1	3+1	3+1	3+1	6	3+1	1+1	7+2

Skills: Dodge (6+ save against all attacks), Combat Master (gains bonuses when outnumbered), Killer Reputation (causes fear), True Grit (reduces injury rolls), Juggernaut (can shrug off impacts), Hip Shooting (can fire pistol or basic while moving)

Equipment: Power Armour (3+ save, includes photo visor and infra-red goggles, 4 items), Boltgun (1 item), Combat Knife (0 items), Frag Grenades (1 items), One-in-a-Million Weapon (1 item)

12-6 wounds: 8 wounds remaining
12-9 characteristic upgrades: 2 upgrades remaining
12-6 skills: 6 skills remaining
12-7 items: 5 items remaining

Just one Astartes (properly kitted out) eats most of my points. The rest of the team might be chapter serfs, servo-skulls, recruited guardsmen, Alpha Legion cultists, etc.

Compare this to Kill Team, where a single team might have 5 fairly unimpressive Deathwatch marines, each with a single wound and a less-than-spectacular impact. A Space Marine should feel like an ancient unstoppable god-warrior wearing a personal tank.

OSR: The Ghost Whale of Endon

Whale oil was once a luxury in Endon. The only thing preventing widespread adoption was supply; there was no real whaling industry. All that changed when Bartelby Spuggs began polymorphing pigeons into whales. In a gore-soaked field downwind of the city, Bartelby and his apprentices run a roaring whale-oil factory, boiling and rendering thousands of pounds of blubber into pure clean-burning for lamps, soaps, and cosmetics.

Hardly anyone gave the whale-oil works a second thought until the deaths began. Neighbors reported a horrible shrieking howl and found a room soaked in gore. Urchins saw a huge phosphorescent shape glide through the fog. Something huge and horrible stalks the streets of Endon, seemingly killing at random.

Pigeons are not very bright. Their feeble little souls rarely survive being polymorphed into whales. But once, by accident, one of Bartelby assistants polymorphed a stray dog. Dogs, as any professional wizard knows, have the greatest soul-to-mass ratio of any mammal. No sensible wizard would credit them as distant evolutionary relatives to whales, but it's true. Being a whale was, for the dog, a deeply confusing experience, so after death the dog-whale stuck around to see what the fuss was about.

Endon is haunted by a cetacean ghost. It glides through the streets on foggy nights, a translucent outline paddling through clouds, buildings, and cobbled streets. It is a lonely whale. Sometimes, it howls.

Carly Sorge

Ghost Whale

HD: 7
Wants: friends, belly rubs, krill.
Armor: none. Requires magic weapons to hit. All the usual ghost immunities (charm, sleep, cold, electricity, etc.).
Move: 2x fly, swims through solid objects
Morale: 6
Damage: 1d8 life-draining bite, whale howl (see below).

The ghost whale's howl affects anything in a 50' cone in front of it. It starts as a low rumbling, then rises to a painful, oppressive shriek that bursts blood vessels, cracks skulls, and pulps eyeballs. It takes two rounds to reach full power. In the first round, anyone in the area of effect can try to flee the area. If they remain inside, they take 1 damage. In the second round, anyone in the area must Save or die. Typically the ghost whale only howls once a night.

The ghost whale is also a dog. It wasn't a particularly good dog in life but it wasn't vicious or spiteful either. It wants to chase carriages, sniff garbage, and fall asleep in front of the fire; all things made difficult by its spectral existence. It might be possible to tame it.

Treasure: 1d10lbs of ambergris ectoplasm (ghost whale barf). Like half-real solidified glowing air. Worth 1,000gp per lb to any wizard or perfumer in Endon. One of the few scents ghosts find pleasant. 


Yes, it's just a reskinned Banshee.

So What About The Law of Conservation of Mass
Utter nonsense. Ever seen a fire? Reduces heavy wood to light ash. Burns oil and spirits into nothingness. Or consider ice. Allow a sealed container full of ice to melt and less water than ice will be found inside. No, I'm afraid mass is not conserved. It comes and it goes as it pleases.

OSR: Rewards of the Monarch

Congratulations! You've saved the world / the nation / the city. The Monarch (absolute, dissipated, benign, slightly seedy) wishes to bestow a gift upon you. Big bags of gold are terribly unfashionable (and the kingdom is broke anyway / needs money to rebuild / is notoriously stingy), but as a token of Their Royal Esteem, the Monarch will ensure you are adequately rewarded.

Roll once per group per apocalypse averted. Entries with a ★ apply to one person in the group. Everyone else in the group gets the entry above or below the ★ entry (50% chance, roll once). The Monarch will generally fixate on the most responsible, clean-looking, and patriotic person.

Some of these rewards may be ludicrously out of scale with the services rendered by the group. This is intentional. The Monarch is either whimsical or Machiavellian.

Daniel Kamarudin

1d20 Rewards of the Monarch

1. Hearty Hand-Clasp
The group is presented with a laurel and hearty hand-clasp from the Monarch.

2. Knighthood ★
One character is knighted by the Monarch in a solemn ceremony. They can be called "Sir". Most people will treat them slightly better than the heaving mass of humanity. If the character is already a knight, they are promoted to a minor barony (of some far-off barren region). If they already are a baron, someone less suitable is knighted instead (barons and above being expected to serve the Monarch without complaint or recompense).

3. Honorary Doctorates
Presented in a ceremony at Loxdon College. Stuffy old deans snoring, spotty undergraduates picking their noses and playing cards in the back, slightly tinny brass band. Bearers gain the right to wear comically floppy hats, red robes trimmed with ermine, and carry a sword on Sundays without a permit. They are officially Doctors of Philosophy and are expected to turn up to one ceremonial dinner a year.

4. A Lifetime Pension
Enough to live just above poverty. The pension starts at age sixty. It does mean, no matter what the group's members do between now and then, they are unlikely to starve in their old age.

5. The Keys to the City
Presented by the Mayor to the Monarch, then by the Monarch to the group. Enables them to avoid parking fees, some zoning bylaws, and tolls. Everyone in the crowd now knows their faces.

6. Invitation to Court ★
The Monarch takes a liking to one member of the group. They will be invited to Court at least once a year to say something witty and memorable. If they don't, they won't be invited back. If they say something gauche or rude the Monarch might exile them. Showing up to Court is a good way to meet interesting, rich, and cunning people.

7. Commemorative Plaque
Large, brass, securely fixed to a convenient building. At least one name will be spelled wrong. 10% chance of being stolen each year.

8. Commemorative Statue
Very large, bronze and stone, a sculpture group of heroic deeds near a reasonably important street. Everyone looks a little gouty and distorted. Unveiled with a flourish and a great deal of polite clapping. Immediately misidentified by every tour guide and ignorant pedestrian as a statue of "General Monkton and his Famous Charge."

9. Street Naming ★
A prominent street is named after one of the group's members, ideally one with the best-sounding name, or one that lends itself to abbreviation, modification, or ease of use. Surprisingly disreputable things happen on the street going forward.

10. Dedicated Follower of Fashion
The Monarch decides some aspect of the group is fashionable and adopts it immediately. The fashion soon spreads. The group may be credited as the originators. Luxury-hating puritans will spit at them; courtiers and tailors will fawn over them, at least until fashion changes again.

11. Royal Marriage ★
One group member is offered the hand of the Monarch's daughter (or son in some regions) in marriage. If one (or both, in some regions) is of an incompatible gender, the Monarch will simply have it altered with a legal fiction. It would be treason to refuse. The would-be fiancee is eleventh in line to the throne, rather plain, and extremely spoiled.

12. Royal Speech
The Monarch makes a rare public speech on the group's heroic deeds, patriotic virtue, and public spirit. The group won't need to buy drinks for a month. Everything is discounted. Spontaneous celebrations inconvenience them wherever they go.

13. Minor Medal
In a hasty ceremony, possibly along side several dozen others, the Monarch presents the group's members with a small medal such as "Order of Valour, Second Class" or "Honourable Bar of the Knights of the Chalice".

14. Sincure ★
A post, such as "Master of the Royal Mint Plantations" or "Trustee of the Monarch's Hound's Pensions" is found for a deserving group member. It pays reasonably well and requires perhaps two  hours of work a week.

15. Commissioned Painting
A court artist unveils a grand painting of the group doing something heroic. The painting is far too large to be displayed in a private home. It will be put in one of the royal residences to amaze and confuse future visitors.

16. Quiet Castigation ★
One member of the group is discreetly asked about their enemies, rivals, and ambitions. The Monarch uses their influence to destroy one enemy (if possible) by calling in loans, cancelling licenses, spreading rumours, or, if all else fails, framing them for a capital offense.

17. Commissioned Music
A court musician presents a new composition to celebrate the group. In a few centuries it will be one of the most well-known pieces of music from the era, but at the present moment it receives a polite but tepid reception. People still hum it from time to time.

18. Memorable Day
The Monarch declares the anniversary of the group's efforts to be a public holiday (for the next five years). It might prove so popular that the Monarch will be pressured to keep it. Bizarre traditions (floats, effigies, dances, traditional foods) arise almost immediately.

19. Inaccurate Speech
The Monarch makes a rare public speech on the group's heroic deeds, exaggerating, misremembering, and interpolating events with horrifying conviction. The group is credited with powers beyond their means, with "securing eternal peace with the Manticore Kingdoms" or "ending the threat forever." Any future disasters will be blamed on the group. People will come to them for aid on all sorts of  unlikely matters, some of which could potentially be profitable.

20. Royal Counselors
The group is appointed "Special Advisors to the Monarch". They are expected to turn up when summoned and help the Monarch solve the nation's problems, or amuse the Monarch, or perform impossible feats. The position is unpaid but extremely valuable, as they have the Monarch's direct attention. If they bring the Monarch into disrepute they will, at the very least, be exiled.

OSR: Ministers of Endon

Here's another sneak preview of my pre-apocalyptic Magical Industrial Revolution book. It's a minor and unimportant segment but it's a fun one.

The Parliament of Endon

Being elected to Parliament is the crowning glory for many Endonians. Entering that elite social club and influencing the course of the nation is the exclusive preserve of the rich, powerful, and incredibly dull. Parliament generally lets the affairs of the nation carry on without interference, only passing a law or demanding an inquiry after the crisis has reached a terminal stage.

Getting Elected
Only men can be elected to Parliament. In a fine and well documented tradition, any women who wishes to exercise political power selects a dull, pliable, or unscrupulous person and uses them as a proxy. Everyone knows who actually holds the reigns.

Only people of Rank 3 or above can stand for election. A campaign costs 1,000gp and has a 50% chance of succeeding. Making friends with a Minister increases the chance to 80%. Well-documented public heroism may guarantee election at the GM’s discretion. Campaigning takes place during the Off-Season and requires no particular skills or talents. Giving a speech or two is traditional. Elections are held once every 2 years.

Parliamentary Duties

During the Season (pg. ##), an Member of Parliament is expected to turn up at least once and vote at their party’s command. Actually reading or writing laws, proposing new directives, or debating is viewed as a suspicious novelty. Once elected, a Member of Parliament can keep their seat until death unless a Scandal (pg. ##) intervenes.

The Political Parties

Endon’s two political factions fatuously trace their ancestry to pre-historic chieftains. They each control approximately half of the 100 seats in Parliament.

The Gumperts stand for Endonian Values, Harsh Penalties, and The Good Old Days. Their colour is green. 

The Bogs stand for Lower Taxes, Endonian Prosperity, and More Wars. Their colour is blue.

Control of Parliament, and therefore control of the Ministries, switches between parties every 1d4 elections, usually as the result of a Scandal (pg. ##). Anyone standing for election must choose a party before campaigning. The choice cannot be altered later. Social groups form along party lines.

Honore Daumier

Ministers and Ministries

Merely being elected to Parliament does not bring power or wealth. Becoming a Minister is an easy way to influence the course of the realm. It’s a retirement option, a capstone to a long career, or a potential way to avert a magical apocalypse. Ministerial power is difficult to quantify and will probably need to be adjudicated by the GM. Doing anything efficiently, quickly, or cheaply is next to impossible. 

There are six ministerial roles in Endon. More could be created (with the Monarch’s assent). A Ministry of Magic has been proposed but, for various political reasons, never implemented. 

1. Ministry of Finance 

Sets fiscal policy. Negotiates loans, collects taxes. Complicated and boring but theoretically very powerful.
 

2. Ministry of the Interior 

Manages municipal affairs of the city of Endon. Infrastructure, relief of the poor, new tolls. Generally overworked and understaffed. 

3. Ministry of Trade 

Import and export duties, commercial relations with the Hated Foreigner (pg. ##), classification of new technologies. 

4. Ministry of War 

Defends Endon by fighting the Hated Foreigner whenever possible. Pays the Army (pg. ##), organizes campaigns, tests new military technology. 

5. Ministry of Justice 

Handles complex court cases, implements new laws, manages the Coppers (pg. ##).

6. The Prime Minister 

Sets the general direction of the government. Reports directly to the Monarch. Blamed for everything.

In the actual book, I'm hoping to have these look more like newspaper clippings. The scandals will be literally ripped from the headlines.