Skyrealms of Jorune at Endgame,204,203,200_.jpg

Today at Endgame I ran Skyrealms of Jorune as part of their “Old School” event for Square 1 Roleplaying.  I had two players who played, respectively, a human durlig farmer (in Jorune jargon, a Toth) and a bronth private detective (a Yordeh, or Yiordeh depending on which you think is a misspelling).  The game was overall fun, though I felt during and after that it hadn’t quite come up to where I wanted it to be, owing mainly to my getting lost in the rather byzantine rules system.

It took me far longer to create six pregen characters for the players than I expected or wanted it to.  I had announced the game for up to four players, and wanted everyone to have a choice, and also wanted to showcase the variety of characters that could be played in Jorune.  My final two players got to choose from:

  1. A human durlig farmer looking for adventure
  2. A Muadra Dyte Punk (a sort of street gang minor magician)
  3. A Boccord Jers (a jungle guide)
  4. A Bronth Private Detective (Yordeh)
  5. A Crugar Thriddle Liason (Querrid)
  6. A Woffan Iscin (a scientist)

The character creation section of Jorune 3rd edition proved to be a throwback to the bad old days of roleplaying – in order to create a character I had to dig through not only the “Character Creation” chapter, but the “Isho” chapter and the “Combat” chapter as well.  There was no single place that listed all the steps needed for character creation, and the process grew very protracted and tedious.  I estimate it took a good 12 hours to create the six characters – more time for the early characters, less for the later ones as I got skilled.  By the final character I had the process down to no more than 40 minutes or so.  The idea of trying to sit down at a table with several interested parties and wade through character creation all at once gave me willies.  Creating the Muadra was particularly difficult and time consuming because there are a number of skills that are found in the “Isho” chapter rather than the character creation chapter.

So anyway, it took me awhile.  Too long really, because by the time I was finished with the characters I felt a) a bit disheartened by the whole affair and b) like I had spent a lot of time doing something that was largely a wasted effort (by the time I finished all the characters I knew I was only going to have two players).

Characters in “Skyrealms” tend to have a fair number of skills at what we would today think of as a pretty low level.  Skills are rolled on a d20, with the player trying to roll equal to or under the skill rank.  Skill ranks of 6-12 are not uncommon, and when creating characters one must spread a very limited number of points rather thinly.  One mitigating factor for this is that in addition to ranks, skills also have a level, ranging from unskilled to familiar to experienced to seasoned.  The higher your skill level, the less you have to worry about routine tasks.  So for example a character unfamiliar with durlig farming would need to roll – probably against a skill rank of 5 or less – in order to accomplish even the most routine tasks involving durlig farming.  However, a character familiar with durlig farming would never need to roll when undertaking routine durlig farmer tasks.  Seasoned characters would need to roll only under the most difficult of circumstances.  This cut down somewhat on the number of dice rolls, and meant that the low numbers were mitigated somewhat.

Casting dyshas is also a rather complex process, involving the character’s affinity with certain types of Isho (of which there are seven, corresponding to the seven moons of Jorune), skill ranks with each individual dysha (spell) known, number of Isho points (mana) used to power the spells, and a number of rarified skills which Muadra can take to modify their dyshas and perform other neat tricks.

Then there is combat.  Oh my lord there is combat.  Let me limit myself to bullet points of the steps involved:

  • Roll for Advantage.  This determines whether your character can attack or defend, attack and defend, attack and defend with a bonus, or basically stand there flat-footed for a round.  (Important note – you have ~50% chance each round to be limited to doing nothing or to merely defensive actions.  What this means is that for about 25% of any combat you and your opponent basically stand there and stare at one another).  When rolling for Advantage High = good, Low = bad.
  • Assuming you can attack, roll to hit.  When rolling to Hit Low=good, High=bad.
  • Assuming you hit, your target rolls Defense to see if the attack is blocked.  Again, Low=good, High=bad
  • Assuming the attack is not blocked, roll for hit location.  This is a straight d20 roll, but since the head is the prime locale, Low=bad, High=good.
  • Now that you know where you hit, roll to see if you penetrate armor, if any.  This time you roll 2d6.  Low=bad, High=good.
  • Now, at last, roll for injury.  Again 2d6, and again Low=bad, High=good.

For those of you keeping count, yes that is a whopping 6 rolls just to whack someone with a mace.  There are, of course, modifiers for all these rolls.  AND once you start taking injuries, you need to keep track of the severity and location of each, as minor wounds to the legs have different effects than a minor wound to the arm or torso.

I confess that I did a lot of hand waving in the combats we got into.  In part this was because one of the characters had no real skill at fighting whatsoever, and I didn’t want the player sitting around doing nothing during a protracted fight.  But in part I also wanted to reduce the number of steps required for a single attack because six seemed like too many for me.

So now I have gripped.  And I think that the game system is worthy of quite a bit of criticism if you hold it up to the standards of today (or even the standards of 1992, which is when 3rd edition was published).


…  the world is lovely.  It is rich and full and inspired.  It has a background, and there is a real attempt to explain not only how the magic system works but why, and how the Isho field surrounding Jorune affects everyone.  There are numerous sentient races on the planet, and while some of them are very much the “humans in suits” sort of aliens, there are also some that are truly weird and delightful.  Thriddle are, IMHO, one of the coolest races ever developed, and for their sake  I regret that “Skyrealms” didn’t generate a larger following and petered out to die an ignominious death brought on by poor sales and wrangling over copyright ownership.

Despite the system, I would run it again.  I might do so at this year’s Big Bad Con, or at Pacificon.


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MOTOBUSHIDO – “Fury Road” House Rules

We saw “Fury Road” this weekend, and of course I spent a good portion of the movie trying to figure out how to run various scenes as part of a Motobushido game.  I came up with the somewhat humorous rules below during the climactic fight scene.

For a real, gonzo, post-apocalyptic feel to your Motobushido game, every Duel not exclusively within your Pack must start at level 2 (threats of immediate violence).  Want gas?  Threaten violence.  Want safe passage?  Threaten violence.  Want a candy bar?  Threaten violence.  Need to stop the vehicle for 5 minutes while you go behind a dead, parched, tree for a piss?  THREATEN VIOLENCE!

“I need to take a leak!”

One of the immediate indications that one has been adopted into a Pack is that Pack members stop pointing weapons at you and threatening to kill you for the slightest reason.  Shinmai, of course, are not full members of the Pack, and so can expect to receive rather brutal treatment until they are fully accepted.

“Found a new Shinmai!  He’s really excited!”

Against established antagonists to your Pack, such as government authorities, enemy Packs, and random animals that might be used for food, it is perfectly acceptable to start a duel at Stage 3 – in fact it is generally considered poor etiquette to do otherwise, unless you can manage to use Stage 2 for some sort of stirring, post-apocalyptic speech.  (This only counts if you manage to work in a) that the world really sucks and b) that you are the only person/Pack that can save whatever it is that needs saving).

Duel instigation, Stage 2

Duel instigation:  Stage 3

Since automobiles and rigs are a big part of the “Mad Max” universe, your Pack may look and handle a bit differently than in a standard Motobushido game.  If you want to create a Party Rig, just let players select their cycles as normal, but the various cards for stunting substitution form a pool.  When the rig is in a duel, whoever is driving the rig can draw on the cards of all the other player characters in the rig.  Any player characters not in the rig are assumed to be a) leaping from vehicle to vehicle and doing their own thing, b) on their bike, doing their own thing.

“Anyone seen Max?”

“Well crap…”

Also, since duels generally take place against the background of a hideous, post-apocalyptic wasteland, be sure to change the terrain during the duel without warning.  Throwing in terrain that vehicles don’t have a rating for is perfectly legit.

The 20 Coolest Things About the First Trailer for 'Mad Max: Fury Road'

When all else fails, try Badass.


Just a couple of photos

Since I convinced my friend Steve to play a small game of Warhammer 40K with me a few days ago, I have had a yen to repaint the armies involved – Orks and Chaos Space Marines.

While everything is still in process, I thought I would share a couple of photos.  Right now I am at the shading stage an haven’t started on the highlights yet.

CHAOS 1500(1)

Ork Battlewagon (1)

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Motobushido at Endgame!

I’m going to be running Motobushido at Endgame to celebrate the reboot of Road Warrior on the 16th of May and I am very excited!  Here’s my blurb.

The Chrysanthemum an the Carburetor


A new ruler has risen in the land, vowing to destroy the motobushi forever. Skirmishes occurred throughout the Spring, and in high summer your pack suffered defeat at the Battle of Little Town. Now it is autumn, and your much diminished pack, along with remnants of other motobushi packs – including your hated rivals the War Pigs – have been driven North into the mountains. A meeting of the packs has been called at Three Peaks caverns, and you have been sent as your pack’s representatives. The survival of your pack, and perhaps the Motobushi tradition, is in your hands.

For this second Motobushido game I am going to do a few things differently than in my previous one.

  • I’m going to run the First Founding this time.  Last time I skipped it due to concern over time constraints, but I discovered when I ran that I certainly could have fitted it in had I wanted to.  I think it is a good way for players to learn the system, so I am going to use it this time.
  • Characters aren’t going to be 1st Rank.  For campaign games that’s great, but for one-shots the 1st Rank powers are not the most interesting and don’t necessarily highlight each class to it’s best effect.  At the moment I am considering exactly how many advances I want to give each character, but it will be somewhere around 6 spit up various ways between Pack, Sword, and Highway.
  • I’m going to come up with some different questions to ask at the beginning.  I’ll put them on cards and ask players to draw them randomly.  If I have time I will put two questions on each card and let the drawing player choose one to ask (I got that idea from “The Quiet Year”)

I am also going to beg my long-suffering wife to take a few minutes to make a map for me of Three Peaks Caverns

Once again I am very excited to be running this innovative and evocative little game.

Motobushi, start your engines!

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Maryam’s letter

From the KGB file on Maryam Bakrazde, transferred from NKVD records April 14, 1954

Dearest Sergei and Yergei,

Well, here I am – your beautiful Maryam, only a few days at the front and already in the hospital.  You did tell me it would not be like crop dusting.

The 588th is a truly amazing unit, and a tribute to what women can accomplish when we are given our freedom.  We attack the Germans relentlessly, fearlessly, constantly.  It is our task to support our brothers at the front by never giving the Hitlerite invaders a moment’s rest, a single quiet moment.  Always we are nipping at their heels, snapping and biting.

Of course I cannot say where we are, but believe me we see constant action.  And my sisters in the regiment are simply amazing!  Upon arrival, I found myself suddenly thrust into the leadership of a section of aircraft, pilots, and navigators.  It was not a role I had expected, but I attempted to rise to the responsibility.  I owed it to the amazing individuals I serve with.

Since then we have flown many missions.  Often we fly several times per night.  We take off at dusk, drop our bombs on the target, and return, sweeping down the runway crying “More bombs!  More bombs!”.  And then we are off again, into the night sky.  Often we shut down our engines over the target so that the Germans cannot hear us coming, and sail over the target with no more sound than the wind whispering over the wings.  We have heard that the Germans hate and fear us, and have begun calling us “Night Witches” because the they think our aircraft sound like broomsticks.

So how did I end up in the hospital?  I fear the story is not too dramatic.  We we drop bombs on the Germans, and sometimes they shoot back at us.  Despite their poor aim, sometimes one or two will get lucky.  That’s what happened to me.  We were over the target, and had just dropped our bombs successfully, when we were hit by shrapnel from a flak gun.  I was hit in the legs and lost consciousness.  That would have been the end, but my heroic navigator, Sgt. Teremova, was able to successfully land the plane, even though she was also badly wounded.  She pulled me to safety after the landing.  I owe her my life.

So now I have a little German souvenir in my leg, and a cane to help me get around.  But my feet still reach the rudder pedals, and I am anxious to fly again.  Now that I have only nine toes, perhaps one of you will finally be able to catch me!

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Night Witches – more work on the Po-2s

Here are some photos of the Po-2s I have been working on for Night Witches.  I have them pretty well painted now, and have put the Zvezda red star decals on them.


Upper left: Squadron air ambulance. Upper right: Section leader aircraft with tail markings

IMGP0120A few things to note about the models – first of all, the size of the decals that Svezda makes for these models seems to be of the wrong scale.  You cannot fit more than a single digit number on the tail.  I opted instead to put red stars on the tails and not the fuselage because a) I wanted to save the fuselage area for detailing when an aircraft gets a personality, and b) the red star is also rather large, and it wouldn’t fit nicely on the fuselage unless I put it right behind the navigator’s cockpit, which looked too far forward.

Second, note the lack of machineguns.  I’ll cover this more in another post, but the machinegun part is extremely tiny and fragile, and I was largely unsuccessful at getting them in the tiny holes provided.  Eventually I am going to epoxy them on.  But first –


Tiny little pilots!

The Zvezda models do not come with pilots or navigators, but I ordered some 1/144 scale heads and torsos.  They’re hard to paint well, but I have enough of them that I just took a quick shot at each, figuring that some of them will come out well.  I HIGHLY recommend that if you want to put pilots and navigators in your Po-2s you do it BEFORE you put the upper wing on.

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Night Witches – preparing the squadron


Progress on painting up the Po-2s for Night Witches.

Night Witches

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Night Witches – Characters

The Characters

MaryamJr. Lt. Maryam Bakradze

Playbook:  Pidgeon

Current Role:  Leader

Uniform:  regulation

Body:  small

Hands:  frail

Home Town: Novosibirsk

Writes to:  the Yeleshev twins

Skill:  0

Guts:  0

Luck:  0

Regard:  none


Sgt. Valentina Malinovskaya

Playbook:  Raven

Current Role:  Protector

Gender:  Female

Uniform:  Flyer’s

Body:  Angular

Face:  Handsome

Home Town:  Moscow

Writes to:  Boris Mednikov

Skill:  +1

Guts:  -1

Luck:  +2

Regard –

Trust Oksana Boykova


Sgt. Svetlana “Sveta” Demidova

Playbook:  Sparrow

Role:  Misanthrope

Gender:  Female

Uniform: Ill-fitting

Body:  Willowy

Eyes:  Cold

Hometown:  Verkhoyansk

Writes to:  no one

Skill:  0

Guts:  -1

Luck:  +2

Regard –

Hate Valentina Malinovskaya

OksanaSgt Oksana Boykova

Playbook:  Hawk

Current Role:  Dreamer

Gender:  Female

Uniform:  Regulation

Body:  Lanky

Eyes:  Calm

Home Town:  Collective Farm #505 (Ukraine)

Writes to:  son, Maksim

Skill:  0

Guts:  0

Luck:  +1

Regard –

Respect Elena Teremova

Admire Valentina Malinovskaya

3370428271_1c71252f86Sgt. Elena Teremova

Playbook:  Owl

Current Role:  Adventurer

Gender:  Female

Uniform:  tattered

Body:  small

Face:  Serious

Hometown:  Vladivostok

Writes to:  Dr. Burov

Skill:  +2

Guts:  0

Luck:  -1

Regard –

Resents Valentina Malinovskaya

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Motobushido: actual play and review


This –

If this piece of Rick Marcks art from the game doesn’t interest you in this gem, then walk away now because nothing in the rest of this article will do it.

Motobushido is the motorcycle samurai roleplaying game.  Written by Nathanael Phillip Cole, it is described as “a game about really sweet duels between really badass samurai who ride really awesome motorcycles.” according to the back cover blurb.

The back cover blurb does not lie.

In Motobushido you take on the role of a member of a motorcycle pack formed by ex-soldiers at the end of a devastating war.  Each character type holds a specific position within the pack with well-defined responsibilities within a rigid hierarchy.  Players must balance their character’s responsibilities and duties within the pack with their own needs and desires, and the dynamic tension between pack and individual is one of the big drivers for the game’s plot.

I’m not going to spend a lot of time getting into the mechanics of the game – you can get the text version here for “pay what you want” and it does a much better job of explaining the rules than I could.  But a brief overview is in order, if only to understand the rest of the review.

The game is 105 pages, not counting the character sheet.  It is divided into three main sections:

  • Section I:  Motobushi.  An overview of the game and how to set it up and play it.
  • Section II:  Proper Ways to Die.  More detailed information on how to create characters and resolve conflicts
  • Section II:  Sensei.  Information on how to run a Motobushido game.  Includes a short scenario.

(I recommend springing for the color print edition, primarily because of the previously mentioned Rick Marcks color art which graces the interior and front cover.  The B&W interior art is also good, but the color art is the stuff to knock a player’s socks off, and will do more towards selling the game to your play group than any sort of verbal explanation.)

Resolution is done using a deck of cards, and there are two major resolution mechanics.  Gambits are a way to resolve issues in which there is some doubt about the outcome, but simple failure may not be a particularly interesting option.  Duels are the more complex resolution system, for times when the conflict has high drama value and the stakes matter.  Duels are not necessarily violent, and can include poetry contests, persuasion attempts, motorcycle stunt competitions, complex seductions, and, yes, attempts to kill one another with weapons.  The mechanic is surprisingly rich for such a simple game, and during a duel players will have to weigh the benefits gained by winning not only with the risks associated with failure, but the possibilities of escalation or of doing something dishonorable during the course of the conflict.  Learning when to concede and when to push a duel to its limit is a skill that both players and GMs will have to learn in the course of play.

Instead of Hit Points, measuring their physical resistance to damage, characters have Stains, which represent how much damage/dishonor the character’s spirit can take,  Those who behave dishonorably will eventually face karmic retribution rather than death – though don’t mistake this for one of those games where characters can’t die.  They surely can.

Motobushido is very much a storytelling game, and is as much about the characters alliances and conflicts with one another as it is about their interactions with the outside world.  Expect considerable internal drama and make sure that everyone at the table knows that this is not one of those games where everyone is buddy-buddy and there is no squabbling.


I ran a one-shot of Motobushido at Endgame in Oakland.  I advertised for four players, but was actually willing to take five.  In preparing for the game I made copies of all the pregen characters (which can be found here) and practiced the Duel system a few times to get familiar with it. (thanks to my wife Sophie for helping with that).

In the interest of saving time, I made the decision to pregenerate the pack’s resources, and skip the First Founding.  In retrospect I certainly had sufficient time to run through the First Founding (which establishes information about the nature of the Pack and teaches players the rules) and perhaps I should have, but pregenerating the pack certainly saved us some time that the group put to good use.  The set-up for the scenario was a simple one – the pack had suffered a difficult year fighting the War Pigs, a rival pack.  Ultimately they were victorious, but at a high cost – the Morale of the pack was high, but their Sustenance (food/money) and Operations (gas/spare parts) Resources were dangerously low.  Nevertheless, one of the pack traditions was to travel dangerous mountain roads in winter to visit the shrine to their founder, Kawasaki Sensei, and spend three days praying at the shrine, performing feats of bravery on their bikes, and offering sacrifices to the spirit of their founder.

I had a full table of five players, who eventually selected the following pregen templates

  1. The Taicho – leader of the Pack (I made it a requirement that someone HAD to play the Taicho.  All of the players were sensibly reluctant to put themselves in the bullseye, but one player eventually volunteered and was brilliant!)
  2. The Shigakka – the Pack historian, keeper of their mon, enforcer of traditions, traditional Pack second in duels, and adviser to the Taicho.
  3. The Kusawake – scout for the Pack, and something of a loner.  Often riding apart from the pack to scout the trail
  4. The Migi Ude – sword of the Taicho, the enforcer, the person who does the dirty work for the Pack so that the Taicho’s hands are clean.
  5. The Shinmai – the prospect, not a member of the Pack, who gets all the crappy (as opposed to dirty) jobs that nobody else wants to do

I found that it took about 30 minutes to get organized, get Pack templates selected, and give an idea about the setting and a very rough idea about the system.  At that point I took them through Step 6 of character creation – Sacrifices and Deeds.  I highly recommend you do this because the past sacrifices and deeds that the players come up with at the table to get each character each of their starting three Deeds will be far more interesting and dynamic, and make for a much better web of relationships than anything you as GM could put down on paper beforehand, and the results of 15 minutes brainstorming will write half of your game – maybe more – for you while you watch with glee and take notes.  If you are playing with a group of strangers you should be ready to step in just in case someone steps on a trigger for another player, but in our group it didn’t happen.

Once the character deeds were determined and everyone knew who was playing what, it was time to get into the game.  The Taicho planned the ride up to the shrine (and nearby village), the Kusawake scouted the way, and off we went with the throttle wide open.

Everyone grasped the Gambit rules immediately, but it took longer for the players, and myself, to appreciate the subtleties built into Duel rules.  While at first they appear to be a simple “high card wins” mechanic there are subtleties built into the system that make it considerably more robust and tactical.  It is worth noting that most, if not all characters have abilities that allow them to modify their play of the Duel rules, so duels between characters can look and feel very different depending on which archetypes are competing.  There are also rules for Seconds and for group Duels, which add further complexity and depth.  As if that wasn’t enough, Duels can escalate, leading to choices about whether to strategically concede and give up little, or push the Duel to a higher level and potentially give up a lot or even get killed.

We had several good duels during our game, but two were particularly notable.  The first wasa duel of words between the Shigakka and his former sensei, who lived in the village.  The Shigakka was attempting to get information, and the sensei was trying not to give it.  There was a lot of back-and-forth card play, with myself and the player exchanging verbal barbs as each card hit the table.  Things began to escalate and it was clear that the exchange might soon lead to more trouble than either wanted, until some good card play at the last minute managed to defuse the contest with no winner and stains on anyone’s honor.  The second was a motorcycle competition between the Taicho and the Migi Ude before the shrine of their founder to honor him with their skill.  This proved to be a protracted conflict because both characters were skilled riders on good bikes, and each had a Second.  Card play again went back and forth, though both players were careful not to let the conflict escalate.  Both players also made use of their characters special abilities and the contest held the attention of all the players at the table until in the end the Taicho managed to eke out a victory.  We all noted that had the Taicho’s player made a few different decisions about card play, he would in fact have lost the duel, and I had to laugh when the Migi Ude used one of his abilities to pass the Stains he received for losing on to the Taicho’s Second (who had provided the card that enabled the Taicho to win).

The big climax of the game came when the War Pigs rode into the area and demanded that the Pack give up the village.  In exchange the War Pigs promised to allow visits to the shrine of the founder, but warned that should the Pack not agree to their demands they would destroy the shrine.  Things wound up with the Taicho dueling his opposite number from the War Pigs, being mortally wounded, and the Kusawake putting an arrow into the War Pigs Taicho in response.  With his dying breath the Taicho commanded that the Shinmai be promoted into the Pack, and later the group found that the Taicho’s bike had appeared as part of the shrine to the founder.

Overall I found the game quite simple and satisfying to run, and the players seemed to have a great time.  I found the rules to be well-written both in terms of comprehensibility and of flavor.  Everything in this game directs both the players and the Sensei towards running a pack of post-apocalyptic samurai motorcycle bandits, and since this is exactly what the game sets out to do I judge it a great success!


Here are a few minor issues that those running Motobushido, particularly as a one-shot at a convention or event, should bear in mind.

1)  My game ran 7 hours including a lunch break.  In retrospect I think I would have had time to go through the First Founding with the players, but this is something I would recommend cutting if you are running in a four-hour time slot.

2)  A handout describing the various options and consequences of Duels would be extremely helpful to teaching the system to new players.  There is this handout available, but the outcomes don’t always match the outcomes from the rulebook so some editing is in order.  If you want to be particularly impressive, put the outcome results on the other side so players have a better idea of what they are risking when they escalate.

3)  The pregenerated characters are not always complete.  All of them are missing a description of at least one of their techniques, and a couple are missing more.  I solved this problem by making one-page handout covering their various powers and techniques and would recommend this to anyone who is running the game as a one-shot.

(You can find my sheets here – Motobushido)

4)  All of the templates are Rank 1.  For a one-shot it might be useful and interesting to promote characters to Rank 2, or even have some mixed ranks to indicate the varying experience of the pack.  This doesn’t have to be the obvious “Taicho is high rank, everyone else is lower, Shinmai is lowest” hierarchy.  You can set up very interesting pack dynamics if, for example, the Taicho is Rank 2 while the Shinmai is Rank 4.  Why would this be?  Have the pack Taicho been dying so fast that there hasn’t been time to promote or confirm the Shinmai?  Adding some additional ranks to the character templates would also make them a bit more interesting and dynamic, as the Rank 1 abilities are mostly pretty minor.

5)  Weapon techniques – one of the things that disappointed the players a bit was the lack of techniques specific to each type of weapon.  While the templates do all contain differing techniques, the rules made the weapon types feel a little too generic as Rank 1.  Expanding weapon techniques would be a useful addition if there was ever a supplement or expansion.

6)  I found the character sheet for Motobushido to be high in aesthetic value (it’s very pretty) but poor in the ability to record and access information.  Particularly page 2, which spends half it’s content on Rank pyramids but gives the player very little information about their techniques.


A few things to think about when you are setting up your Motobushido game.

Understanding what the needs and drives of the various character templates are is important, because they intersect.  There is some very good material about this in the rulebook.  Characters fill various roles in the pack hierarchy, but they are interdependent.  For example, the Migi Ude (enforcer) thrives on doing the dirty deeds of the pack so the Taicho can keep his hands clean and the wrath of the pack can be directed at the Migi Ude instead.  Everyone needs to understand and buy into this.  It becomes the responsibility of the Taicho to supply dirty deeds for the Migi Ude to do, and the responsibility of other members of the pack to be outraged or angry at the Migi Ude because of them.

You also need to decide whether or not you are going to require someone to be the Taicho.  The pack is a hierarchy, and someone will be in charge, no matter what – you can get interesting results by playing a game without a Taicho (either with or without the Taicho NPCed) but someone is going to be at the top of the pack hierarchy regardless.  It’s worth noting that in Chanbarra it can be perfectly legitimate to have the clever Shinmai as the de facto leader behind the scenes of a pack of warriors.  The reason that it is important to have someone in charge is that certain character types don’t work quite right unless someone is the leader, and you may need to stretch some character definitions a bit if there is no Taicho.

Don’t overplan the scenario.  Think of locations for your game as miniature sandboxes (or perhaps off-road areas where your characters can ride their bikes at high speed over difficult terrain).  Let them romp about as they like – trouble will find them no matter where they go or what they do.

I set aside some time in the game specifically to let PCs go after one another, settle grudges, etc. and I was explicit about it.  This led to some of the more intense drama of the game and made for a lot of fun.  Remember that a duel can be any sort of competition, and most of the time the outcome isn’t going to be death unless the players want that, so feel free to let the passions flow and encourage PCs to follow their grudges as well as their honor.


This game is a gem.  I am quite surprised that it has not generated more buzz in the gaming community, because the mechanics are simple and yet rich, the concept is brilliant, and the art is fantastic.  The text-only version is “Pay what you want” which means that it is within the means of any gamer to own it, and it is a lot of fun to play and a lot of fun to GM.  I recommend it as a one-shot or convention event for a group (and I think a campaign would be a lot of fun too, though I haven’t actually run that).

Go forth!
Start your engines
and play





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The Myth of the Myth of Play Balance

TLDR:  play balance in roleplaying games is possible, and desirable.  But the definition of play balance is different in roleplaying games and in competitive games.


The topic of game balance in roleplaying has been a hot and sometimes contentious one.  I thought I would give my views on the matter.


It is important in any sort of competitive game that there be some sort of game balance.  By “competitive game” I mean any game where there is a winner and a loser – chess, Advanced Squad Leader, Magic: the Gathering, Rails Across America, and Quelf are all competitive games, and even cooperative games such as Pandemic and Sentinels of the Multiverse qualify here, because even though players are working together against the game system, they can still either win or lose.  “Game Balance” encompasses two qualities – 1) there is a reasonable chance that any side can win at the beginning of the game, and 2) that skill is a factor in determining who wins.

It is very difficult to make a game perfectly balanced.  Even the venerable chess is biased in favor of the player who moves first.  It is even more difficult to balance a game that contains random elements such as dice rolls or card draws.  So the important thing here is “reasonable”.  It is rare to find a player who likes to lose, so finding players to participate in a competitive game with a great deal of bias  is less likely to be successful.

Roleplaying Group by JustaBlink


Roleplaying games are different from competitive games because in roleplaying games there is no winner*.  Competitive games typically have some sort of victory conditions that dictate how and when the game ends – take Bastogne, accumulate X points, eliminate all the opponents, drop the ring in the volcano.  Once the conditions for victory are met, the game is over, the participants shake hands around the table, and the game goes back in the box.

In roleplaying games, there are usually no victory conditions that end the game because the objective of the game is not to win, but to tell a good story.  Once Bastogne is taken, once the opponents are eliminated, once the ring is dropped in the volcano the game doesn’t end, but instead simply moves on to another plot or storyline.


Broadly speaking, roleplaying games and competitive games are the same in two ways.  First, as recreational activities one of the big incentives for anyone to play them is having fun.  People play both competitive games and roleplaying games in order to enjoy themselves and have a good time that they share with friends.  While the definition of what constitutes fun varies considerably – hence the wide variety of both competitive and roleplaying games available – people play board games in order to have fun and people play roleplaying games for the same reason.

Second, both rely on rules to define the framework of the activity.  These rules act as a boilerplate contract between the participants defining what they can and cannot do within the game environment.  They serve to focus and guide the participants in how they have fun within the context of the game.  The definitions of “fun” are different in competitive games and roleplaying games so the framework of rules will be different and have differing goals, but in the end “having fun” is what it is all about in both cases.


If the purpose of roleplaying games is to tell good stories, then “balance” in roleplaying games has, like competitive games, two components – 1) to give all the participants a reasonable chance of telling good stories, and 2) that skill is a factor in determining the quality of the stories told.

Because roleplaying games are about telling stories, because players play roleplaying games in order to tell good stories and gamemasters oversee roleplaying games in order to facilitate good storytelling, at the very core of any roleplaying game there should be an assumption that every participant in the game should have a reasonable chance of telling good stories.  In fact, participants should have a reasonable chance of telling not one but three good stories simultaneously –

1)  The story of their character

2)  The story of the interactions between some or all of the other player-characters

3)  The story of the overarching plot which concerns all the characters

These three types of stories, interwoven with each other and with the stories of the other player-characters, form the narrative element that makes roleplaying different than competitive gaming.  A game without stories is not a roleplaying game.  Conversely, a game WITH stories is a roleplaying game, even if the narrative element is grafted onto a game that normally doesn’t have one.  Want to play “Chutes and Ladders” as a narrative campaign?  It’s possible if the players agree to add narrative elements.

Being successful at it, however, requires that the players agree what narrative elements to add and how to add them.  And that is precisely where game balance comes in.


In roleplaying games, game balance is a far more nebulous concept than in competitive games because the objective is less defined.  If friends sit down to play Virgin Queen, a brief glance at the back of the game box should be enough to give everyone a good idea what they are doing, if not precisely how.  On the other hand, if friends sit down to play the Legend of the Five Rings RPG, they will initially have considerably less idea of what they will be doing within the game, aside from playing characters in a quasi-oriental(ish) setting.  The game “world” of Virgin Queen is relatively small and defined; the world of “Legend of the Five Rings” is large and nebulous.  This is because “Legend of the Five Rings” is designed to be a game for telling stories, and the authors made a design choice to allow for a rich and broad “sandbox” for play groups to use.  Most roleplaying games take this approach to their setting (though see “The Mountain Witch” for a counter-example of a very defined setting) because the designers want the eventual participants to have a wide range of choices  within their game for what sort of stories they tell.

Large “sandbox” game settings provide ample opportunity to tell many types of story successfully, but at a cost in terms of play balance.  Because the variety of stories that can be told within the setting is so broad, and the types of character available are consequently so varied, greater effort is required on the part of the participants to tell provide an environment in which they can all tell good stories about and with their characters.  As an example, it is more difficult to tell interesting stories about a Nezumi (“ratling”) warrior if the game is set in the Imperial Court and all the other characters are courtiers, and more difficult to tell stories involving an effete Crane courtier if the game is set on the Kaiu Wall and all the other characters are Nezumi warriors.  I don’t mean to imply that such stories are impossible, but they will take additional effort on the part of all the participants to pull off, and have a greater risk of stretching an individual character concept past the breaking point at which it becomes more trouble and effort for participants to tell good stories involving that character than the amount of fun derived from the experience.

Game balance in a roleplaying game is also dynamic, unlike game balance in competitive games which is largely static.  In competitive games the game balance elements are built in – in the “Game of Thrones” board game you have a number of factions representing the various Houses, all of them trying to achieve a specific objective in order to win.  Within the game environment each faction has a reasonable chance of winning, and the skill of each player is an important component in deciding who wins.  All this is set out in the rulebook and the participants need give it little thought.  In the “A Song of Ice and Fire” rpg, however, many of the factors which will make for a balanced game (and remember, “balanced” in this context means “game in which the participants can tell good stories” ) are left up to the participants to decide for themselves.

The three big factors involved with balancing an RPG game are 1) agreement by the participants about the stories they want to tell, 2) the rules system being used, 3) the setting.  I’ll discuss them in reverse order


The setting in a roleplaying game is the most basic, boilerplate frame on which to build good stories.  It provides a the answers to a large number of important questions such as “what genre are we playing?”, “what does the world look like?” and often “what sort of characters can we play?” (and related to that, “what sort of stories can we tell most easily?”).  If a game group is using “7th Sea” as a setting, all the participants know from the beginning that they are telling swashbuckling stories in a quasi-European setting and that they have options for telling stories in one or more of the various nations of the setting but they will not be telling stories about Space Marines or sentient mice.

Deciding on the game setting is extremely important for any roleplaying group – far more-so than for competitive gaming, and especially for on-going campaigns.  If one participant is less than thrilled with the setting of a given competitive game then they can lobby for something different the next time the group meets, but in roleplaying agreeing to a particular setting may constrain a participant to stories they aren’t terribly interested in for months or years.


Rules provide for a second level framework on which to hang stories.  They are important for two reasons.  First is that they help further define which stories are easy to tell and which stories are hard to tell.  Dungeons and Dragons is a good game system for telling stories about characters who grow from relative obscurity to great power, and Champions is a good system for telling stories about superheroes.  Spycraft is a good game for telling spy stories in which equipment matters, and Wilderness of Mirrors is a good game for telling spy stories where it doesn’t.  Rules systems help refine the choices in storytelling opportunities and technique.

Second, and related somewhat, rules help define how conflicts are resolved, and how randomness and uncertainty are added into the game.  A characteristic of the roleplaying experience is that there is an element of uncertainty in the storytelling which allows the participants to be surprised about the outcome, and particularly the outcome of a conflict.  Different rules systems allow for varying amounts of randomness in the storytelling and emphasize or deemphasize certain types of conflict.  Pathfinder, for example, has a large number of rules for controlling the random elements of combat and magic use, and relatively few for controlling the random element of social interactions.  Because of this, the stories told in Pathfinder will likely spend more time with fighting than social interaction.


I saved this one for last because it is the most important, but many roleplaying games don’t put it enough emphasis on it.  Roleplaying is inherently cooperative, unlike most competitive games (cooperative games being an exception – and yes I know the nomenclature is confusing.  Just remember that a competitive game is one where the goal is to have fun by winning, whether against the other players or the game system).  Because of this, it is important for all participants in a roleplaying game to decide for themselves what makes for the best storytelling experience for everyone.  My feeling is that this is the single biggest factor in deciding whether a given roleplaying game succeeds or fails in providing fun for the participants, and also one of the areas that participants are most likely to gloss over or rush through.

Older roleplaying games had a focused and similar approach to game balance and the participants.  One participant was assigned to be the primary storyteller and given primary responsibility for all the story elements that did not involve the direct actions of the other participants characters.  Other participants built characters using specific packages for their character’s race, character class, etc. to define the character.  The types of stories that each individual participant wanted to tell were implicit in the type of character they designed – fighter characters were all about telling stories of fighting, wizard characters were all about telling stories of magic, etc.

Newer roleplaying games have shifted away from this focused approach and give participants more freedom to focus on the telling of stories.  Often they involve taking some of the responsibilities away from the primary storyteller and making them a group responsibility or having multiple participants serve as the primary storyteller in rotation.

Often the primary storyteller is given considerably greater power to add or subtract story elements or decide on the direction of the story.  This is fine so long as everyone agrees to it, as attested by the success of games like D&D and Pathfinder.  But it is important to point out here that roleplaying has moved far, far away from the days and the rules systems that require this to be the case, and that participants now have a wide variety of options in terms of what stories to tell and how to tell them.



Balancing a roleplaying game is a multi-stage, iterative process.  For game designers, who get first crack at it, it involves looking at the setting, the rules generally, and the types of characters that can be created, and asking “Do all the types of characters allowed in this game have a reasonable chance of having good stories told about them somewhere in the setting?”  This doesn’t mean that every single character type necessarily has to have a reasonable chance of generating good stories in every single corner of the game setting.  But it DOES mean that character types should have rough equivalency.  There should not be character types that are blatantly more powerful than others to the point that the overshadow the stories that other characters can tell.  The more randomness there is in character creation, the more likely this is to happen, so there needs to be balance not only between character types and within character types to make certain that the fighter who rolls poorly for stats has as much of a chance of telling good stories as the fighter who rolls really well.  Even within games that use a point-buy system, there needs to be some sort of rough equivalence in the power of build point spent on X vs Y.  So, for example, in a spy game if the skill “Shooting” costs one point per level and the skill “Play Piano” costs three points per level, warning bells should go off.  Shooting is a much more versatile and useful skill in most spy games than playing a piano, and that should be reflected in the relative costs.  If the game system charges more for “Play Piano” than “Shooting” most participants will get the message that the game system is actively discouraging stories in which people spend a lot of time playing the piano.  And if that’s the case, why put it in at all?  In the original Pendragon there was no stealth skill for the simple reason that knights don’t sneak.  Did that limit the sorts of stories that could be told?  Yes.  But placing a framework on the sorts of stories that can be told is part of what a system and setting are all about.

The next step comes when the game is purchased and gets floated as an idea within a particular roleplaying group.  At this point everything is up to the participants.  As individuals and as a group they need to look over the game – the rules, the setting, the sorts of characters that can be created, the sorts of characters that they are inspired to create both individually and as a group, and decide if the game works for everyone.  Not just the majority of the participants – everyone.  If there is even one person that the game doesn’t work well for, that person shouldn’t play.  And since most roleplaying groups consist of friends, making the decision to put a game ahead of social interaction with a friend is almost invariably a bad idea.

By the time the system and setting have been decided on, there are probably already some ideas about stories percolating within the group of participants and these should be scrutinized to make certain that they make for good stories that are exciting for at least a couple of the participants and not squicky to anyone.  If the participants include one who is going to take on primary storytelling duties, that participant should ideally be enthusiastic about all the story ideas, because stories that the storyteller is not excited about are unlikely to be good stories.  WRITE DOWN GOOD STORY IDEAS!  Make sure they are preserved.

Once these story ideas are preserved, the participants should create characters.  As with system and setting, this should be a collaborative effort among all the participants, and everyone should be sensitive to what makes for good stories about the other participants characters, and what good stories can be told about their interaction.  In many, but not all systems there are clues about what sort of stories a particular participant is interested in buried in the character creation process (flaws and virtues, character class, race, and choice of skills are all good indicators) but again participants must be on board with these stories for everyone to have a reasonable chance of good storytelling.  Again, write down the story ideas in order to make sure they are preserved.

At the end of character creation, the group should have a big list of stories that they want to tell.  Make up a sheet for each participant who has a character, and list stories under the following three headers

1)  The story of a participant’s character

2)  The story, or stories of the interactions between the participant’s character and the characters of other participants

3)  The story of how the participant’s character interacts with the metaplot, if any.

If there are story ideas left over, put them on a separate sheet.  Make copies for each participant, make another copy to stick in a binder, and last but not least make a copy and put it online.  THIS IS THE BEGINNING OF THE GROUP’S CAMPAIGN BIBLE.  It serves the same general purpose as the rules booklet of a competitive game – to define how the participants are going to play the game in order to have fun.  In a competitive game the rules define how to win.  In the Campaign Bible the rules define what sort of stories the participants consider to be the best, so that the group as a whole can work towards telling them.

The final step in play balancing involves coming to a different understanding of what system rules and setting are in a roleplaying game as compared to a competitive game.  In a competitive game, it is common for the participants to add their own minor variations of the rules – “house rules” to the game in order to make the game more interesting or balanced.  Such rules are often even added in by the original designers (though they are usually referred to as “optional rules”).  If the participants feel that the 20th Maine needs to arrive a turn earlier or the Starks need and extra infantry unit or that White needs to give up a Knight in order for the game to be more fun, then typically they just go ahead and make the change.  Roleplaying games have, or should have, the same sort of within-group balancing mechanism that the participants can use to help improve the fun of the game.  Any time that the written rules or setting of a roleplaying game interfere with the stories listed in the campaign bible, THE RULES AND/OR SETTING SHOULD GIVE WAY TO THE STORY.  The Campaign Bible should always be considered primary, the rules and even the setting secondary.


Roleplaying games, like competitive games, can be balanced, but it is a differing, more dynamic sort of balance.  It comes from the freedom of the participants to tell stories that interest them through the medium of roleplaying, and it is balanced by making sure that everyone has a reasonable chance to tell interesting stories involving their character, interactions with the characters of the other participants, and interaction with the metaplot.  Factors such as the relative power level of characters and bias in favor of certain types of stories by rules systems and settings can make the job of the participants easier, and thus contribute to play balance, but should always, always be of less importance than the stories themselves.  Stories, as a collaborative effort by the participants, should always be the primary focus, and all other factors should be subservient to them.


*This observation is written at the beginning of 99% of roleplaying games, usually under a heading like “What is a roleplaying game?”  Someday really soon I am going to have a rant on why game writers should STOP PUTTING THIS IN THEIR GAMES but for now if you really need a basic explanation of what “no winner” means, open any RPG.

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