The Gonzo Questing Journey

In debating which of many projects to develop in the near future I find myself drawn back to The Infinite Cathedral, a system-neutral, medieval fantasy setting consisting of a separate plane of existence with a vast landscape of endless cathedral naves and transepts, with cloisters nestled between them. Some unknown force dumps heroes from their own worlds onto this one with no apparent means of return. Much of it is ruined, though some portions still remain intact, with many far-off locations renovated and re-purposed by the region’s unwilling inhabitants.

 
When I first look at it I envisioned it as a traditional medieval fantasy roleplaying setting with a basic thematic foundation and plenty of room for characters to explore, set out on epic quests, or find grand causes to support with sword and spell. But my recent nighttime fiction reading has helped me look at it from another angle and provided enthusiasm for embarking on a more dynamic course with it. (I read as often as my harried lifestyle allows; I’m lucky if I get half an hour of non-fiction reading at lunchtime and half an hour of fiction right before bed.)

 

I’m almost finished reading Michael Moorcock’s The History of the Runestaff omnibus edition published by White Wolf as Hawkmoon in the 1990s. It includes the four early novels of Dorian Hawkmoon (an aspect of Moorcock’s Eternal Champion): The Jewel In The Skull, The Mad God's Amulet, The Sword Of The Dawn, and The Runestaff. I’ve enjoyed reading Moorcock’s fiction over the years, starting with the Elric stories way back in high school followed by others as acquired over the years (including two great omnibus editions published by White Wolf). Now and then I pick up some Elric tales to re-read. On the surface I’m intrigued by the non-traditional elements of fantasy he creates, the underlying conflict between order and chaos, and the overall concept of an Eternal Champion. Such fare seems wonderfully episodic. In one chapter the hero encounters one adversary/location/ally and resolves that interaction; the next chapter brings new and quite different challenges related to the hero’s overall quest, though sometimes seemingly diverting him from it. One never knows what they’ll encounter next…something within the realm of their experience or something entirely outside of it and quite possibly not even grounded in the setting, including occasional appearances by inter-planar demonic beings and lost futuristic-science artifacts.

Like Moorcock’s other work, the tales of Hawkmoon include what many might call “gonzo” elements: watch towers filled with powerful weapons powered by lost technology; knights with “flame lances” riding flying giant flamingos; magic-tech enabling mind analysis and control; entire kingdoms removed to different dimensions. The folks over at the online Free Merriam-Webster Dictionary define gonzo as “freewheeling or unconventional especially to the point of outrageousness” as well as “bizarre.” Both describe a particular style of fantasy roleplaying campaign where disparate yet fantastic elements dominate the setting from one session to the next. I’m not terribly well-versed in the “gonzo” game genre, though I’ve heard of games and campaigns that might fall into that category (Lamentations of the Flame Princess comes to mind, as well as material on the fascinating Dungeon of Signs blog, but I’m sure there are others). On closer examination, however, this style of seemingly “gonzo” storytelling has its roots in classical and contemporary fiction in an approach that might serve to fuel my enthusiasm and inspiration for The Infinite Cathedral.

This style of storytelling hearkens back to that earliest piece of adventure fiction, Homer’s Odyssey, in which the hero and his faithful companions undertake an arduous ocean voyage filled with bizarre encounters, all while addressing an overarching story (Ulysses’ quest to return home). Each episode presents a new encounter intended as a challenge from some fantastic adversary or bizarre situation. A more modern example comes from the classic Star Trek television series. On its five-year exploration mission the U.S.S. Enterprise wanders across the galaxy encountering one challenge after the next. Each episode brings new worlds to explore, mysteries to solve, hazards to negotiate, and enemies to confront. Moorcock’s work embraces this potentially “gonzo” tradition: a setting where the heroes encounter disparate and often quite bizarre elements within their genre setting each episode.

The Infinite Cathedral offers a similar potential for a “gonzo” game campaign. It’s a place where anything can happen within the minimal medieval fantasy setting foundations. Several givens exist -- the medieval nature of society and technology, the mostly ruined cathedral/cloister architecture of the terrain, the absence of gods, and the struggle between seeking a means of escape or resigning oneself to their captive fate on this dimension. Everyone deposited on this godless plane of existence makes a choice: seek a means of returning home even though none seem to exist (despite many promising rumors; or relinquish the quest, settle down in an enclave, and make a name for oneself here. One adventure might focus on defending a small village against an overwhelming enemy while the next might send them on a quest for a pseudo-science magical device with hideously devastating powers.

I’ll freely admit elements of this style of campaigning make me uneasy. The “gonzo” aspects lend themselves to unpredictability and a seeming lack of setting continuity, although many might argue a world dominated by disparate gonzo elements constitutes setting continuity unto itself. I’m also a little intimidated by the exploration quest theme, what many call a “sandbox” campaign in which the overall direction depends on the players’ interest in wandering through the setting rather than the gamemaster’s emphasis on their involvement in a focused meta-plot. Like my historical game setting work in Pulp Egypt and Heroes of Rura-Tonga, much of The Infinite Cathedral setting initially looks fairly normal on the surface -- ruined cathedral, enclaves of survivors eking out a living, standard medieval fantasy monsters lurking in the subterranean crypts -- but as heroes explore they uncover subtle sinister elements: fellow travelers from other dimensions with disturbing objectives and unfathomable powers; enclaves with secret agendas; monsters that look familiar but function quite differently.

I don’t fancy myself a fan of either “sandbox” game campaigns or gonzo-style settings. I’m more a traditional medievalist when it comes to fantasy roleplaying games. But approaching The Infinite Cathedral with an eye toward a “gonzo sandbox” campaign -- within the defined parameters of the basic setting I’ve already devised -- might help fuel my enthusiasm and provide more diversified inspiration for the project. I think I need to step out of my stodgy old comfort zone and explore this….

Adapting Two Game Elements

I’m working on the third iteration of a Battle of Britian-themed board game and examining two mechanics from other games I’m looking to use in modified form. I’ve toyed with the game for a few years now, tentatively titled Hell’s Corner for the region of southeastern England that bore the brunt of the Luftwaffe assaults in the summer of 1940, when the Germans sought to wear down the RAF in preparation for its cross-channel invasion, Operation Sealion.

At first I envisioned a two-player card game where one side played the Royal Air Force and the other played the Luftwaffe forces; this version focused on deploying cards and rolling dice based on the strength of attackers and defenders. I quickly set the head-to-head play model aside in favor of a cooperative game in which one to four players each commanded an RAF sector, intercepting attacks from a Luftwaffe deck and protecting local targets, hoping to last long enough for the Germans to lose interest (i.e., run through the deck once or twice). While pursuing the cooperative game play I dropped the die-rolling in favor of a seemingly simpler system in which defending units cancelled attacks, with any Luftwaffe squadrons that weren’t intercepted (or stopped by anti-aircraft emplacements) dealing damage against targets. I encountered balance issues as well as a lack of tension, which was limited to the revelation of Luftwaffe squadrons randomly drawn from the deck (or the cancellation of attacks for a turn by a “Bad Weather” card, enabling the player a turn of reprieve to effect repairs and redeploy forces).

Now I’m re-examining the game with several changes in mind: implementing a new attack resolution system, converting the card format to tiles, including a player mat to organize locations and squadrons deployed and track incoming Luftwaffe squadrons to intercept. I’m still wedded to the number and composition of the pieces, as I originally based them on historical elements (numbers of squadrons, targets, radar installations, etc.), and hope to retain that feature; but overall I’m seeking to redefine how locations, targets, attackers, and defenders interact.

Graphic Damage Tally

The first element I’m adapting is more of a graphic design notation than an actual game mechanic. Since each tile in Hell’s Corner can withstand three hits before it’s destroyed -- radar installations, port and factory targets, RAF and Luftwaffe squadrons, airfields and anti-aircraft emplacements -- I wanted an intuitive and easy way to note how much damage each took. In earlier playtests I’d set cards on their sides and then upside down to show they’d taken one or two hits respectively. Aside from the oblong cards making this somewhat awkward, it lacked a certain graphic reminder on the piece itself.

Enter Columbia Games’ “wooden block” wargames. I’ve always known about them but didn’t quite understand the specifics until I watched the video for the Napoleon wargame Kickstarter campaign (a game that piqued my marginal interest in the period and board-wargaming format, but with too high a price tag for the basic purchase of the game). I’ve always liked the games’ “fog of war” concept of concealing troop composition and strength on upright block pieces, but never realized the pieces could rotate (and still stand upright) when damaged, displaying the current hits or damage-modified stats on the upright orientation. I’m looking to include a graphic element on Hell’s Corner pieces -- one and two damage “pips” along two edges -- to better track damage by turning the chit each time it sustains a hit. I’m not sure I’ll lower the attack strength of damaged units, but we’ll see how this implements in practical terms.

Dice Pool Results

I’m returning to a die-roll resolution for combat in Hell’s Corner, but don’t want to rehash the separate rolls for each side in confrontations. Instead I’m having players roll die pools representing the strength of Luftwaffe squadrons, yet reading results differently: 1-2 the squad takes a hit (from flak emplacements or anti-aircraft measures guarding the target); 3-4 the squad spends time evading British countermeasures with no effect (or possibly scores a hit on any intercepting RAF squadrons); and 5-6 scoring a hit on the target. Each die counts as one result, so a squad with a strength of 2 could easily roll two hits, sustain two points of damage, or have any combination of the three results. Intercepting squadrons and flak emplacements automatically inflict one hit, though I’ve not yet decided if the hit simply damages the Luftwaffe squadron or converts one of its dice to a hit, therefore eliminating the possibility of rolling a successful attack.

This development emerged from dabbling with Steve Jackson Games’ “press-your-luck” games Zombie Dice and Dino Hunt Dice, where results indicate a success (eating brains or capturing dinos), a neutral (victims running, dinos hiding in the jungle), or harmful failure (shotgun blast, dino stomp). The concept takes a twist on interpreting dice results not as numerical values totaled, but as symbolic successes and failures; and not summed as an aggregate of positive, negative, and neutral, either, like Fudge or FATE dice, but as individual results, such as one positive, neutral, or negative per die, each of which having an effect on game play (well, not the neutral, of course).

Other Revisions

The latest iteration of Hell’s Corner requires some extra revision and reformatting. Cards require conversion to a smaller tile format, including implementation of the “hit pips” as mentioned above and a re-design of the placeholder graphics (much as I’d love to have the resources and contacts to use actual Royal Air Force archival photos…). I’m developing a one-sheet player mat with spaces for locations and RAF squadron tiles in play, an area to organize and intercept incoming Luftwaffe units, and arrows to show which targets bomber squadrons attack. The game seems ideal for cooperative or solitaire play, though I’m fiddling with mechanics determining how long the game lasts (measured in how many times the German tiles are recycled after attacks) and when the infamous mass assault of “Eagle Day” (“Adlertag”) occurs. We’ll see how this falls together and then send it off for playtesters to put it through its paces.