Monday, 14 April 2014

Vornheim Streetfight

Joey wanted this; "Contest rules for a bare-knuckled Warlords of Vornheim variant (ie NO EQUIPMENT) that makes level differences less of an advantage for higher level pc's without ignoring level completely. Rules can be either diegetic (set by an in game authority), a B/X or LotFP hack, a mix of the two, or whatever you think is best.?"

So it has to be fast, because it’s a fistfight. And it has to be rigorous enough. But, it can't have a list of actual moves like that one Jeff was using a while ago, because that means looking things up and looking things up takes time.

So how about this;


Two people only.

No eye-gouging.

Human standard limbs only, no spikes etc.

No armour, no equipment, no magic equipment. Tattoos and whatever disabled for the duration of the fight.

Thieves get climb, backstab bonus and damage if opponent can't see the limb they are striking with. Plus all other skills if they can find a way to use them.

Magic-Users and Clerics get spells but if a spell does any HP damage they are disqualified. Summoning living things is also out.

Killing other PC gets you nothing. (Except with exceptionally evil crowd, see below.)

DM may have optional concussion and limb-breakage chart for zero HP.


One round is ONE SECOND.

Each round both players roll a d20 at the same time.

This is the ONLY die they will roll this round, no others may be rolled, this counts for everything that happens in that second.

The player with the lowest d20 roll chooses their action first. 

If they try to do damage in any way the roll counts as an attack roll against AC.

A standard blow against AC does d4 damage.

In special circumstances (ie lying in floor, woozy, head unguarded) the DM may raise this to a d6 or allow it to explode, possibly more than once. This should be RARE.

If they try to do anything that is not directly damaging then it’s a roll-under stat.

Almost anything can be allowed if it makes sense and can be done in one second with their exact body positions.

You have around ten words to describe what you are doing so if someone* bangs on like an idiot about physics or some kung-fu film they saw once then the DM may award fee extra actions to the other guy.

So if you are a weaker player and roll low you can shout BLOCK and, if you roll under the right stat, deflect damage. You may be pushed back or suffer non-harm effects if the attack roll exceeds your AC by 5 or more, or is a crit. But you will not take HP damage.


Get you kung-fu bullshit and bonuses to damage like in a normal game but still cannot inflict HP damage through a normal block.


So much stuff you can do with stats, just remember exactly what the bodies are doing in 3d space. That, and the one-second round should narrow the options enough to tell you what to roll.

Nothing I can come up with here is going to be better than what you come up with on your own.


Whoever can give the most reasonable, most coherent, least bullshitty and shortest explanation of what their body and limbs are doing in 3d space will be favoured by the DM in case of a dispute.


Zero hp is knocked out. Anyone can pull a Rocky and come back with a successful CON roll. They get hp = the amount they rolled under.

(If they do it in a dramatic and cool enough way.)

The other fighter can stop this if they have a move free and if they are a dick.

If there is a damage and concussion table then every knockout is a roll on that.


This all happens in a FLAILSNAILS game world and it has consequences. Nothing happens in some bullshit 'fightspace'. It is a specific place and a specific time.

The World-owner is the ref and DM.

Weaker player can request home turf or special environment if challenged.

3d environments will favour thieves.

DM has final say over setting, should be like Street Fighter, anywhere in game world. Big crowd. Possible scenery at thier discretion.

Non-fighting PC's in the crowd can try shennanigans but see below, they get one action every six rounds of fighting.



Winner gets XP = (opponent level x 100)

If a lower level character wins they can time this again by the diff between levels.

So if Lvl7 Malice beats Lvl7 Nack, Malice gets 700xp.

If Lvl1 Diraq beats Lvl7 Malice he gets 700 x 6. 4200 xp.


DM plays the bookie or NPC to set odds in-game.

You can bet ANYTHING the NPC in question thinks is reasonable. A million in gold, hand of a princess, your left hand, your child's life, anything.


Monks keep all their extra kung-fu shit.

Monks fighting non-monks will be carefully watched by their temples and their behaviour monitored. They are expected to behave extra-honourably if good and win super-easily if bad. Like, without taking a mark.

The DM will tell you what your temple expects and if you fuck it up you may get nothing even inf you win.


Street Fights are watched much more closely than normal D&D fights and the reputation you earn in them spreads fast and sticks hard.

If you show flair and elan, even if you lose, you can win the crowds respect. Of course this depends on the crowd and the culture.

Generally if some skinny little nerd goes toe to toe with a tough fighter and takes their licks without being a baby about it then they can get a name in the crowd culture, respect and pats on the back in bars and a bonus to rolls in the future.

If some scumbag plays the heel, throws sand in their opponents face, doesn't give them a chance to get back up, or behaves in a way not respected by the crowd, they quickly get a reputation as a shitbag.

Unless the crowd is evil like in the chaos wastes or somewhere, in which case they may respect cruelty.

Most 'savage' races are more honourable than sadistic but some are not, and some are just crazy.

*Naming no names Zach Marx Weber and Joey Lindsey

Sunday, 13 April 2014


So about five days ago I decided to try writing the worlds first story in duelling second person perspective. Spent ages on it, kind of fucked up the trick but its not bad (probably, I think.)

Plus, the interesting parts of Veins are pretty much done in blogable format. Plenty of working out and stuff but nothing I could put up here.

So this leaves me with an issue. Not sure what to blog. There's always 'whatever you're thinking' posts but I don't really have a project of stuff  I can put up here at the moment.

Multiple projects awaiting decisions or 'layout'.

And apparently I have entered one of those semi-dead zones where I have no mind of my own but all the parts are working.

I kind of need to make something that will make some money. Fiction? (RPG,s will never make any money.)

So I'm open to idea's.

What would you like to see?

Saturday, 12 April 2014


An iron gong sounded, setting up a wave of expectation in the crowd. Everyone looked in the direction of the egwugwu house. Gome, gome, geom, gome went the gong, and a powerful flute blew a high-pitched blast. Then came the voices of the egwugwu, guttural and awesome. The wave struck the women and children and there was a backward stampede. But it was momentary. They were already far enough where they stood and there was room for running away if any of the egwugwu should go towards them.

The drum sounded again and the flute blew. The egwugwu house was now a pandemonium of quavering voices: Aru oyim de de de de dei! filled the air as the spirits of the ancestors, just emerged from the earth, greeted themselves in their esoteric language. The egwugwu house into which they emerged faced the forest, away from the crowd, who only saw its back with the many-coloured patterns and drawings done by specially chosen women at regular intervals. These women never saw the inside of the hut. No woman ever did. They scrubbed and painted the outside walls under the supervision of men. If they imagined what was inside, they kept their imagination to themselves. No woman ever asked questions about the most powerful and the most secret cult in the clan.

Aru oyim de de de dei! flew around the dark, closed hut like tongues of fire. The ancestral spirits of the clan were abroad. The metal gong beat continuously now and the flute, shrill and powerful, floated on the chaos.

And then the egwugwu appeared. The women and children sent up a great shout and took to their heels. It was instinctive. A women fled as soon as an egwugwu came in sight. And when, as on that day, nine of the greatest masked spirits in the clan came out together it was a terrifying spectacle. Even Mgbafo took to her heels and had to be restrained by her brothers.

Each of the nine egwugwu represented a village of the clan. Their leader was called Evil Forest. Smoke poured out of his head.

The nine villages of Umuofia had grown out of the nine sons of the first father of the clan. Evil Forest represented the village of Umeru, or the children of Eru, who was the eldest of the nine sons.

Umufia kwenu!’ shouted the leader egwugwu, pushing the air with his raffia arms. The elders of the clan replied, ‘Yao!’

‘Umofia kwenu!’


‘Umofia kwenu!’


Evil Forest then thrust the pointed end of his rattling staff into the earth. And it began to shake and rattle, like something agitating with metallic life. He took the first of the empty stools and the eight other egwugwu began to sit in order of seniority after him.

Okonkwo’s wives,  and perhaps other women as well, might have notices that the second egwugwu had the springy walk of Okonkwo. And they might also have noticed that Okonkwo was not among the titled men and elders who sat behind the row of egwugwu. But if they thought these things they kept them within themselves. The egwugwu with the springy walk was one of the dead fathers of the clan. He looked terrible with the smoked raffia body, a huge wooden face painted white except for the round hollow eyes and the charred teeth that were as big as a mans fingers. On his head were two powerful horns.

When all the egwugwu had sat down and the sound of the many tiny bells and rattles on their bodies had subsided, Evil Forest addressed the two groups of people facing them.

‘Uzowulu’s body, I salute you,’ he said. Spirits always addressed humans as ‘bodies’. Uzowulu bent down and touched the earth with his right hand as a sign of submission.

‘Our father, my hand has touched the ground,’ he said.

‘Uzowulu’s body do you know me?’ asked the spirit.

‘How can I know you, father? You are beyond our knowledge.’

Evil Forest then turned to the other group and addressed the eldest of the three brothers.

‘The body of Odukwe, I greet you,’ he said, and Odukwe bent down and touched the earth. The hearing then began.

From Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe

Tuesday, 8 April 2014

a liar and a coward and a cold-blooded killer

In addition.

Ah never should have killed that man. I saved his life and took it. You only get to occupy one side of those scales without breakin em and I’ve weighed down both. I’ve paid for it and I reckon I’m gonna keep payin’ for it.

That girl come and took her daddys eye back. She didn’t do nothing else about that fort though I’m sure we was all thinkin’ she coulda. Left that one up to us.

So we did some plann’ and some waitn’. Reckon we did too much waitin’. Gave those fellah’s inside time to de-frost some nasty surprises.

Don’t know why but I was always expectin’ those daemons they had froze up in there to get out and cause havoc, least, whenever I let daemons loose that’s always what happens to me. Guess some folks have better luck.

We ended up with about hundred-and-fifty guys, maybe two-hundred. Not many more than those inside. Brung down some buildings to get a big ramp up that way.

These guys made their dang curtain wall too close to the inner but that’s buildin’ in a city for ya.

My boy Nack takes me aside an hands me his pig-sticker.

“Joe”, he says, “Joe, they got all kindsa daemons up in there and you don’t know just what’s gonna happen so take this old girl and she’ll see you right.” Good boy that one.

We grab us an old plank or somehtin’ from somewhere. I give those boys the old stonewall-jackson line and takes em up that ramp and over we go.

Well it was a dumb choice but between waitin’ and stupidity you know how I go.

We run over that plank with it clatterin like train tracks. Aint over for a second before we’re pinned down up there. Those guys have us outnumbered and damn-well outgunned. First I see one fellah throwin’ magic at us, then another, then another, then one more. It’s a bad situation. They take out our boardin’ ramp pretty fast. I call for another.

(Shit, ah just about forgot to tell you about all the times, (that’s multiple) that boy Nack saved may old bug life. Well he was jumpin about like a crawdad infronta me. First I wonder “Well just what are you up to son?” Then I sees; he’s only snatchin’ dang arrows outta the damn air! And they aint aimed at him neither! Those arrows was pointed at me! He musta grabbed a whole bushel of those things. We’ll he’s the Real Deal, that’s all you need to say about Nack far as old Fiddlin’ Joes concerned.) 

Seems just about everything that could go wrong, did go wrong. Our magical cavalry get caught up duelling wizards instead of clearing the troops off that roof. As usual, everyone runnin’ about harum scarum, not a co-herent thought in they heads. Ah try getting round the back of one of these guys, ahm about to try shankin the boy but then ah think ‘hey Joe, what’s he got in those volumous robes there?’ Dammn it ah try robbin the man ah came to kill. Hobo ways don’t wear off so quick.

Ah last long enough to see the boys who were dumb enough to follow me over get wiped out to a man. Somethin’ knocks me out. Ah think mebby it would have been better if they’d left me there.

Next thing that pretty girl with the horns is draggin’ me outta some kind of web. Ah look down and see all mah scratches and scars dissapearin’ like they was never there. You’d think it a blessing but all it means is that a bug like me can take more hurt than he was ever meant to.

Turns out my boys took care of those wizards eventually, not much help from me on that one. That problem aint nothing but shit though cause now the real murder starts.

Those dang blasphemers inside, well they not only froze up some daemons. They allied with em too! And they sends one up to deal with their problem on the roof. That is to say, us.

I aint never seen a daemon before but this thing is some monstrous confusion of selves. Creature was a mess ah tell you! Had writin on it too which ah take to be elvish, having seen it before.

Fool that ah am ah try talkin’ to the thing. This boy seems indifferent to mah words. Course ah still had the wrong idea about the whole thing, assumin’ that cause’ they was all froze up in there these things is prisoners. Well they aint. They’s more like contract workers. None-too enthusiastic ones at that.

Talking don’t do a dammn thing so I hides mahself up in there while he tangles with Tizane, that girl with the horns, and old Loud Pete. Ah look down on this pig-sticker old Nack gave me and think to myself.

“Fiddlin Joe” for you’ll recall its always been mah pride and necessity to name myself in mah own thoughts for reasons ahm sure ah’ve described previous to now. “Fiddlin Joe, it’s about time you made good on all that bullshit you like so much so spread around. Git up there and stick that dang daemon right in the spine!”

Ah had the right position to do it too. Crept up on that dang super-natrul entity. Without stirrin’ a whisker. Ah raise that spear up and drive it right dang in the middle of its back!

Not a motherfuckin’ scratch on it. It don’t even turn around.

Ah shoulda died right there if not before. Guess a bug like me’s under the notice of a thing like that. Dumb-ass spear an’ all.

You’d think that woulda been my signal to git the hell outta there, but no, old Fiddlin’ Joes got yet more mistakes to make it seems.

Ah start lookin’ around for something useful to do. Start thinkin’ maybe if ah can’t hurt this thing, ah can still subvert it, if you get mah meaning. Ah grab some more of those elven boys and I’m about to lead them into this castle in search of some kinda advantage that might let us win when what do I see?

It’old Gaffer Sticks, mah brother-in-Vorn knocked plumb out and abandoned. Well, between leavin him on the battle ground and taken him with us was just about even so far as danger goes.

“In together, out together” thinks I and I order those boys to grab him up and come with me.

We don’t get too far into the place before we run into someone dead set on keepin’ us out. Guess ah shoulda thought of that what with it bein’ a siege and all. Still, no matter how bad it is down here, at least there ain’t no daemons.

Well that fuckin’ death machine only followed us in. Next thing ah hear is we got this infernal destroyer right up our asses.

You probably see how Fiddlin’ Joes kinda runnin outa options here. You aint’ wrong.

Forward or back I thinks. Ah tell my boys to roll me like a some kinda crazy bowlin ball right at the enemy in front. Mah hope was we burst through in a rush and take that daemon with us on a trip through his own castle, causin’ chaos all the way.

Well it don’t turn out like that. Not. At. All.

Its about that time I start screamin’. Pinned down like the bug ah am, trapped between mah own boys and the enemy, curled up on the floor, wriggling and crawlin and trying ta somehow get away. All I could hear was those fools I lead in here dyin and that demonic thing laughin’ fit to burst. Reckon he did notice mah attempted assassination after all, he was just takin’ his sweet time getting even. Ah don’t know how long ah was there, squirmin and cryin and just about covered in the blood of men mah dumb ideas got killed but it felt like a long time. Mebbe feels like I’m still there now.

Ah got away eventually and go rollin blindly down the stairs. Next thing ah know I’m inside the castle, right near a room where some kinda bigwigs got his HQ. Ah’ve got about one point five seconds ta come up with somethin’, any goddamn lie will do.

Well ah run in there screamin some crazy bullshit about assassins, hopin ta somehow turn the chaos to mah advantage.

Looks like ahm a little late for that. This boy got hisself assassinated bout ten seconds ago. (You know it’s that same fellah ah spoke to about the goblins?) These folks are a mite upset about that.

Well they capture me and take me away. Ah wrack and wring mah old bug brains trying ta come up with some kinda lie to make sense of it. Ah spew all kinds of crazy nonsense ta get them to take me to wherever they got those deamon locks or whateverthehell it was they was usin’.

They don’t give a dammn. Hell you’d have to be pretty dumb to fall for the same shit twice, and, more ah think on it, more it seems that’s all I got. The same shit over again.

Ah reckon ahm just where I deserve to be. Threw that boy outta that window like it wasn’t nothin’ at all, sent those poor dumb elves to they deaths, abandoned and got killed just about everyone who ever listened to me at all and ah never stopped talkin bullshit the whole time, you cut me open guess that’s what you find. Lies. An a thick streak of yellow right down mah spine. Ahm a liar and a coward and a cold-blooded killer and there aint no way outta that at all.

Ahm done talkin. Reckon I’ll just sit here and wait for one of these boys ta put me outta my misery.