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avkamfher · 2 years

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Logs of a playing DM - Backstories and Consent

This one is going to be a slightly tired rant since I am well tired but now fueled by some anger that consent isn’t really involved at the moment. The game that I’m writing this up on has not even started yet and there are some big ass red flags going on here.

With the previous post about backstories, it is an important thing and it makes the character yours. With warlocks, you can go to fucking town on what your patron is.

You read a book that now talks to you and needs you to give it some blood every so often to keep writing a story that will keep another plane going? Lets learn some medical skills because we’re vampires now!

Your deity is a potato and is on the verge of their potato empire to be in shambles unless you save them from the Irish? Lets fry up a side quest.

Did your dad die because of voices he said came from his scabbard and he couldn’t take it anymore? When you put your sword in did you unknowingly became a hex blade? Are you now bound to steal teeth from the elderly because you’re god is totally evil and possibly a dentist? Break out the laughing gas, lets go.

Silly and off the wall examples however those are all plausible from the player to make to fit their character that is theirs and possibly would be tweaked with the DM to ensure the Players original vision is seen because communication is sexy.

I have a Satyr Celestial Warlock, and another player has a 9ft tall teilfling from a death world. My write up would be the following, since the DM is really leaning heavily on players a why with their adventurer and to have the party coming together being a party. My patron found me on its ruins of a holy site while I was musing on a pipe, in exchange for power it would need me to fulfill its tasks when directed otherwise I would be left alone to my own devices after tasks were complete to its liking. Upon agreement of of these terms and learning it is an arch angel with many wings and eyes. A secret I will gladly keep to myself.

On my travels I’ve become known to others as a ruffian of sorts and fell into a dynamic group of miscreants. Until one day when something changed, suddenly feeling the eyes of my patron gone and attempting to use the rod it left to open a channel to it left no answers as to what happened. Coincidentally around the same time there have been murmurs of a 9ft tall devil that has appeared. Maybe she knows something.

Keeps with the Greek theme a tad, allows me to get creative with my patron for my character, and establishes a reason to seek out another party member who was physically across the table.

Now this is what was sent to me, with out much prompting, and a lack luster pitch to me. Eachthighern, deity of unicorns and pegasi, has approached you in a dream. Skerret, deity of many centaur and satyr, has been missing from the Happy Hunting Grounds for quite some time. With news of planar rifts, particularly on the Prime Material Plane, Eachthighern has requested mortal assistance in finding, and possibly returning, Skellit.

In exchange for this service, the Lord of Horses has offered magical capabilities such as the Fey and Devils have offered to select mortals from time to time. Not used to this type of magical imbuement, your new patron had to transmute your fey spirit into the controlled magical essence bestowed to warlocks of other patrons.

Perhaps as your strength increases, your patron becomes accustomed to the contract, or you accomplish the initial goal, you can harness the magics without loss of your fey spirit. Until such a time, other satyr feel...disconnected from you. In your journey, you have found several companions.

You gravitate toward a particular monastery focused on peace and enlightenment, where you have befriended others not exactly aligned with your mission, but always more welcoming than your own people.

The party is aware of your magical abilities and understand that you are on a challenging holy quest. How much of the details, the nature of your magic or the specifics of your quest, is up to you to decide what you have shared as part of your background.

This feels like a tee up for “Oh look the goat guy was the bad guy” feel to it which I get however the prime issue here is there was zero serious talks between myself and the DM to make things gel with what his mystery story is and what arc I am wanting to do with the now missing patron who is on a death world kicking ass and taking names.

It also establishes no real narrative for my character to go to that monastery, why do I want to go there? Does it have some sick ledges I can walk on? Do they have some holy texts that would be relevant? Any odd secrets? Maybe another benefactor of the same patron is there and we need to have a chat? Without that nugget of communication of “Would this be alright” or “What motivates the little cloven hoovd critter?” it will lead to an very quick disagreement between the player and the DM.

Which brings us to Consent. Consent is also for Table Top games and not just the bedroom. With the DMs write up it really sets up a negative narrative of “I’m different and people don’t like me” where as it should be “I’m different and people like me for it” a healthier method.

With my first game of D&D I had Ezoc Malag a Tickster Warlock whose patron was an ‘Aboaloth’ but was really a tentacle monster with 7 eyes, ripped abs, and an opportunity for the DM to have some fun as well. This worked out since I asked a simple question of “Can this guy be my patron?” and my DM said “Yes”.

Since then my DM has clearly had some fun with the things that happened and asked me flat out “Hey would it be cool if I make your character the next seasons big bad?” I was 100% on board with the idea since I knew my DM whom was in contact with me for the Warlock stuff would have a ton of fun with the character and he could go just nuts with a tentacle monster god taking over the body of a dark elf to reign down unholy blights onto the plane. I signed way the fuck up for that. Made a backup character that was tied to Ezoc since he was a construct and who the hell knew the underdark had a good MIT program.

All that was with the proper background to build off of and with consent from the DM and the Player to ensure everyone was cool with what was happening and not an act of a DM just writing things out and not asking ‘if this works or what would you like to add?”

Remember consent is sexy on and off the table and make the backgrounds fit the character and the world it is in. If you know where it will take place.

#D&D #ttrpg design #rant #Logs of a playing DM #Warlock

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lilttlewolf · 6 years

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Lost Items of Order

Ch.3 And then it Came

And then it came one by one, rattling them all. It had started out just like any other dream, a restless night and then sleep coming in on them like a quiet night upon the shoreline. It was amongst the sleeping when it came, the images and the words, the sounds drawing them all to the place it was hidden, the place where it would be found. The cold depth beckoning them all, they could feel the wet sand under foot, as the icey chill of the salt water caressed across their skin, and they were not afraid.

The tall teifling, whose tail calming swayed back and forth as she imagined what was there, she could feel the sea life calling her. As the swaying sea grass moved with the waves above, the small krill and the ever massive, growing of the coral reef. It was sharp, dangerous, deadly, but she could feel the small pin pricking barbs under her finger tips, and it did nothing. She could feel her breath held below the dark cold water, and still no fear came. As her deep dark green eyes probed along the rocks and reef, searching for it. She felt a sudden bump against her back and turning to see what was there, she opened her eyes to the room around her. A tall fern sat in the corner lightly swaying in the evening air by the open window, a faint snoring came from the creature whose arm possessively clung about her waist, a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she trailed a delicate hand across the arm and with a sigh she blinked, trying to recall the heavy dream that brought such a chill to her thoughts.

As the druid tried to recall the images, the halfing woman felt more than anything the pulling session of the ocean. The need of her to be near it, her toes in the sand and her hands in the water, she was more a fire using type so this sudden desire to be so near the calming liquid was foreign to her, however the moment her mind felt the touch of the cold dark pool she felt it wash over her, through and with eyes shutting everything else out she inhaled the salty air and felt the magnetic pull consume her once more. A power resided there, something below the waves, it called her, it wanted to be found. With an unshakable drive she moved toward it, her eyes shut she continued to kneel in the waves allowing the water to splash around her, soaking her clothing and pulling at her long hair now trailing around her hands in the water and sand. She inhaled deep and let her mind carry her toward the glowing sense of magic. Whatever it was, it was below the waves and hidden within a darkness only her fire could illuminate. Without thinking, she brought her finger tips up and snapped them together to produce a small flame, however only sparks seemed to popped and then spitter out as she attempted again and again. Frowning she opened her eyes to glance at her hands. A gasp had the long haired magic user suddenly wipe her hands on her bed sheets as if to stop the flame she new surely had to of been there, but nothing more than warm fingertips and a small darkened spot on the white bedsheets remained. Sighing heavily she rubbed a hand across her eyes and simply pulled the sheets up around her once more.

The night was more than restless for their highness half-elf, whose restless slumber brought about the tossing of sheets and kicking of her bed mate. With a grumbling complaint he attempted to soothe her agitation, it merely brought on a flurry of flying fists and groaning cries. “My love what is it?” Sitting up he attempted to simply wake copper haired woman. With a firm hand on her shoulder he shook her gently..

The sea was calling, the waves pleading, she found her feet in the sand before she could remember walking down to the shoreline. The breeze off the water pulled at her carefully pinned up hair, strands blew about her face and delicately pointed ears with there many piercings. Trying to hold the hair away from her face, as well as hold the simple shawl about her shoulders she peered between her dark eye lashes, the blue spheres there, glanced at the horizon. The sun was no where in sight, it felt dark and grey as the smell of rain came to her. She felt the icey sting of the water hit her toes as she tried to back away then, but the farther she backed up the closer it seemed she was actually getting to the water. Soon she was knee deep and her night shirt was beginning to cling to her. She felt a twinge of panic rise up in her. Her blood felt hot as her cheeks flushed and her hands gripped ever tighter on the shawl. The dark blue water was slowing consuming her, and she could not see a way out. She began to fight against the pull of the waves. Releasing the shawl to the wind she turned back to try and reach the grey sandy shore covered in the white foam of the angry sea, but she could no longer touch the sand and stone floor. With one last attempt at survival she tried to scream. The wave was all consuming, cold and all knowing, as it crashed into her, through her and took her below the black icy depths. Panic and fear erupted in her as she tasted the salt water and could no longer hear and see. Only the water was there, only the cold darkness now. She tried to fight, the struggle, the pull at the clothe around her and unpinning her hair, she felt like a water soaked log, only drifting lower and lower. Soon her legs grew tired they could no longer kick, her lungs burned with an intensity she could not imagine was possible and she dare not open her eyes. She reached her out stretched arm toward where she imagined the surface must be and gave it.

With a final inhale of breath the pain was gone and the cold slowly growing to a warmth. It was all around her, washing over her like a warm blanket, her mothers hands pulling her close. She saw her mother then in her mind, it was so real then, she opened her eyes to see better and there it was. She blinked slowly, so calm, so beautiful it was. Just sitting on the ocean floor, the steal shone light diamonds, glistening in the light of what she could only imagine be the moon beams, shooting through the water. It was Vaylarian Steal it had to be, the way it shone nearly white like a moon stone or pearl. She couldn’t look away, seeming to move closer to it, she reached out a hand and trailed a finger across the hilt of the massive blade. It was swirled and twisted around the blade, as if the water itself made it so. Deep blue sapphires decorated the swirls, dappling along the hilt. And one massive gem she could not recognize was fixed it the top center. It was black, or it appeared that way, till she wrapped her fingers around the metal, it shifted shades of black. It molded to her hand, she felt the weight of it, it was a perfect fit in her grasp.

Suddenly realizing the sway of the water, the chill began to creep back into her bones. She blinked and looked back around her, something was there in the deep shadow of the ocean, a sense of something there, watching, a potential threat, a danger. The sword suddenly fell from her grasp, the trail of fine little bubbles was all her eyes managed to focus on as she felt her weight lift again and she was carried back to the surface, her fingers felt warm and her lungs ached with the need of air. The moment her head broke the surface she felt the sand under her hands, between her fingers, she felt the icey breeze across her soaked skin and night dress. She was racked with hard trembles shaking against the water as she slowly pushed herself up on her hands she pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around herself, looking back out over the black waves, the white capped peaks, and the compulsion of what drew her there.

With a gasping breath Nynaeve flung herself up gripping at her chest and coughing up sea water, Astrid’s wide eyes watched as she reached for his arm. She held him there, he keep a hand on her back and allowed her white knuckles to grip his wrist till her breathing seemed to settle, only then did he pull away to pull her into his grasp. She felt ice cold to his touch, and if he wasn’t mistaken, her hair seemed damp and smelt of the sea. Nynaeve only blinked and held onto him, she tried to force the images away, the blackness that threatened to swallow her whole and the sword that beckoned to her there.

There was no more sleep this night, for any of the three woman. As the morning sun still hours away from cresting the horizon, Sylous rose to tend to her plants nonetheless, telling her companion as much as herself that she surely for got to water something, even though she knew quite well she did not, as the still half full watering bucket sat in the corner of her breakfast nook. She smelt the fresh hot coffee boiling, pulling a thick tattered blanket she had had since she was small, about her lean shoulders, she craned her neck this way and that, stretching the muscles and the weight of those horns. She blinked as the restless night still evaded her memory, a sigh came from her then as she poured herself a full cup of the dark rich liquid and stepped out into the chilly early-early morning air. Spying the room of the little sorceress she called friend, candles were lit and she was clearly in a fuss, small sparks shot out from the open window her and there, causing the teilfling to shake her head. She would surely hear all about it in the morning to come. But as she found her way walking the sudden sandy trail that lead down to the shoreline, the long beach grasses swaying in the breeze, she frowned, recalling something then, something was there and she had indeed dreamt about it.

As the early morning air made its way into the remaining room in question. A barn cat yawned and repositioned itself on the bed of the human girl, Able lay sleeping deep, undisturbed by the nights dreams that came to her this night. It was soothing as the water washer over toes, something in the sand kept her standing on the shoreline, she did not move closer to the water, she was not allowed. As a gruff bark came then from a massive creature standing behind her, she turned to look over her shoulder at it then, away from the water young wolf.. it is not safe there. The voice was like sturdy pines trees, heavy rock and crisp snow mountains. Yellow eyes, a dark muzzle, pointed ears, Able blinked and felt a smile pull at her lips as she turned her back to the water and stepped toward the massive wolf, waiting for her.

A dream session for all the gals, this was a strange one to write seeing as there is only so much everyone has seen of these guys yet. Hope everyone likes well enough, these gals are based on wonderful ladies i actually work with. #workinspired #thankyou

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