ttrpgsolostoriesforyou

[ttrpgsolostoriesforyou]

[ttrpgsolostoriesforyou]

scene 5 part two v1; more discovery

Rough outline as my brain isn't working today.

Aaron is plagued by dreams as the group recovers. When they wake, he tells them they're close.

He scrambles, aching, and almost falls into a crack in the glacier.

He hears the voice hum louder and he tells the group its below, the part of the faith is below them.

The leader of the group readies some supplies to explore downward. I think they'd use a rune to deduce where everything is exactly, almost like sonar. Maybe the act of it does something to the glacier and causes them to fall in. They discover an opening leading to an underground forest.

They explore the forest below and discover part of a building. It's a well kept room untouched by time. It's filled with books and a strange glowing circle.

First night: screams in the forest and tree limbs cracking.

The group sets up defenses around the library. Aaron discovers a store room also untouched and filled with random supplies.

The second day: one of the group discovers another way out of the forest. It leads to some underground tunnels.

There is something down there - anxious it has an opportunity to get out with these visitors.

#fantasy #solo ttrpg #beginner writer #fantasy writing #writing ideas

[ttrpgsolostoriesforyou]

"How to include realistic features in your art - Face Equality Week Special by Kris Volyk ( NWarrior777 )

tumblr shadowbanned this post and you can't find it in tags. it's second try to upload this and reach people it was hardly made for

I've seen this event on instagram and thought that i just have to participate! It's so beautiful celebration of people differences beauty. My participation is to inspire more artist to see this beauty and bring it into art, as representative artist

[ttrpgsolostoriesforyou]

Dialogue Strengthening Methods

Dialogue serves as the lifeblood of any narrative, offering readers a window into the minds, hearts, and souls of characters. When executed effectively, dialogue not only propels the plot forward but also deepens character development and fosters emotional engagement.

Authenticity through Observation

Authentic dialogue begins with keen observation of the world around us. As writers, we are avid listeners and astute observers, capturing the cadences, quirks, and real-life conversations. For example, in a bustling market scene, the rhythm of vendors haggling over prices or the melodic lilt of a street musician's banter adds depth and authenticity to the setting.

Character Voice

Just as no two individuals are alike, each character in a story possesses a unique voice that reflects their personality, background, and worldview. Crafting distinct voices involves delving deep into the psyche of each character, understanding their motivations, fears, and desires. Consider the contrast between a grizzled detective who speaks in terse, cynical phrases and a wide-eyed rookie whose speech is punctuated by eager enthusiasm. By infusing dialogue with these individual nuances, characters come alive, resonating with authenticity and depth.

Subtext

Beyond the surface level of spoken words lies a rich tapestry of subtext—unspoken thoughts, hidden agendas, and underlying emotions. Mastery of subtext allows writers to imbue dialogue with layers of meaning, inviting readers to decipher the unspoken truths that lie beneath. For instance, in a scene where a character offers a half-hearted apology, the tension between their words and body language hints at unresolved resentment or guilt. By harnessing the power of subtext, dialogue transcends mere communication, becoming a vehicle for nuanced storytelling and character development.

Showcasing Emotions

At its core, dialogue is a reflection of human emotion—joy, sorrow, anger, love. Capturing the emotional essence of a scene requires a delicate balance of words, tone, and context. Instead of explicitly stating characters' emotions, skilled writers show them through subtle cues—hesitant pauses, clenched fists, tearful eyes. Consider a scene where a parent confronts their child about a secret they've discovered; the trembling in their voice and the quiver of their lip betray a mixture of concern, disappointment, and love. By allowing emotions to permeate dialogue exchanges, writers forge a visceral connection with readers, eliciting empathy, laughter, and tears in equal measure.

Conflict and Tension

Dialogue thrives on conflict and tension, driving the narrative forward with relentless momentum. Whether it's a heated argument between lovers or a tense negotiation between rivals, conflict infuses dialogue with urgency and dynamism. Consider a scene where two political adversaries engage in a war of words, each vying for dominance and advantage. By pitting characters against each other, whether in overt clashes or subtle power struggles, writers create opportunities for growth and revelation.

[ttrpgsolostoriesforyou]

Starting to play Monster of the Week

This week, a friend and I, started crafting a world for our Monster of the Week sessions.

We started with a simplified version of "i'm sorry did you say street magic" to build it. He came up with a gentrified part of the neighborhood called Re-dev. No one quite knows the developer, but the section materialized quickly. Along with it, a landmark bronze statue of a figure sits tucked away between a few shops. The statue is of someone no one likes.

To play off of it, another neighborhood called Brownstones was developed. With it, a rich history of community and a patchwork of homes in various states of repair and disrepair. Where a nook contains a shawarma shop that leaves any patron feeling right as rain after a meal.

The rug pulling some things together is a section of retirement sky scrapers. Interlaid within its floors are shops and denizens who get wealthier the higher you go. Below is a world underground that leads to other places in the city. It's walkways and shops are filled with a variety of things anyone would need for an inexpensive price.

As of now, it appears the player characters will be a mash-up of cryptids, minor dieties, and mythical beings who will investigate abuses of magic, pick at the mystery behind the bronze statue, and maybe enjoy a few Cup-O-Noodles while observing ducks at a pond.

That's totally normal for a Gorgon and a Sasquatch, right?

I'm told (I'm not) Greece and the Pacific Northwest have a lot in common.

#fantasy writer #fantasy writing #story prompts #writing prompt #ttrpg #monster of the week

[ttrpgsolostoriesforyou]

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if you are looking for individual fundraisers to donate to but are struggling to choose, gazafunds gives a spotlight to fundraisers that are not close to their goal.

instead of watching and supporting eurovision tonight, please instead boost this post & donate if you can. keep your eyes on rafah.

[ttrpgsolostoriesforyou]

scene 5v1: discovery

The last thing they remembered was the earth shaking during the night. Trees collapsed and crashed around them before darkness pulled and pushed them in all directions. Aaron did as he was told in this situation by the others, to hold his breath, and he struggled as whatever force was dragging him threatened to crush him.

He was surprised to be alive. His head sticking out and facing the sky. More aches and pains coursed through him and he slowly wiggled an arm free. He reached up to thank the Father for saving him only to have his hand press against the sky. He could feel his stomach drop and he began to yell and smash his fist against it. His foot could move so he began trying to move his leg.

Punching was useless. He bit his glove and began to dig with his hand. The world around him began to narrow and his head began to ache. Snow pulled apart in his hand as he frantically clawed what was within reach.

Some wrapped itself around his foot, unleashing a muffled scream. He responded in kind and frantically tried to kick his leg. He was gaining more room. His leg could gather more force! He began to kick as hard as he could only to feel something warm wrap itself against it.

His vision darkened.

"Wake up, cleric. Did you enjoy your first snowfall?" Aaron snapped awake then instinctively reached for the sky. It didn't come away in his hands and he gulped in fresh air.

Hanlin sat him up then handed him some warm tea. Her face was bruised and batter with a fresh cut along her forehead.

"Everyone made it? What happened?" Aaron pulled the warm skin closer to his body, trying to bring feeling back into everything.

The young warrior spoke as she set her braids to protect her ears and neck. "Everyone is fine. You kick hard for a cleric. Didn't Tarn talk to you about setting your runes?"

Aaron tried to remember the night prior and telling Tarn the Father would protect him on his journey. In a way, he was thankful to be alive and that must be due to the Father's grace.

"Aye, but I trust the Fathers more than runes and folklore."

Hanlin and another, Hel, chuckled.

"The runes protected us more than your Fathers did. We landed right side up and stayed on the surface. If it wasn't for us, you'd have died upside down." Hel handed Aaron a warm bowl then took some for himself, only to slurp it from the bowl directly.

Hanlin nodded, "He's right," she helped herself to a portion too then sat beside him. "When you're out here, listen to us. We know the land better than your gods. We remember what it's like to live, they do not." Her dark eyes examined him for a moment before she stood up, gathered some bowls and took them to the rest of the group.

Tarn approached and sat with him to hand him some yellow paste. "You think your muscles ached after the trek yesterday, wait until your body settles. You might want this." His thick hands held a dark leather pouch.

Aaron carefully took it, only to place it on his lap and curl up around his bowl.

"We're going to spend the day here. Figure out where we are and start out tomorrow. Gives us all time to adjust. Once we get our bearings, we'll need your guidance on where to head next."

"Why are you doing this? I never knew this was so dangerous."

"We do it out of respect for the glacier, the world, and for the coin. Since your church came in, people forget things. Doing this, helps us remember."

"This is all heresy. Your magics and runes. It shouldn't work."

Tarn smiled slightly then stood, "Then give me back the pouch."

Aaron tossed it to him and gripped for his sigil. His fingers found it against his chest and he prayed.

Most of the group quietly observed the stars and spoke while Aaron tossed and turned trying to sleep. His body ached and no position felt comfortable. Sleep did not come until well into the night.

-----

I think his dreams will cause him to sleep walk and he almost collapses into a crevice. Upon waking, he tells the other they're where they need to be, the snowfall provided guidance.

They'll decide to go below, while one plans to travel back and get additional support from the church and the community. Why? I'm not entirely sure yet.

They might not even need to or should.

Things I like: putting a bit of distance between Aaron and the group via beliefs. I think this is the better example vs prior writing (doesn't really exist in prior scenes, yet) I don't think it adds too much tension at the moment, but for now, it'll be a place holder to remind me there's two beliefs at work here.

#fantasy #fantasy writer #solo ttrpg #beginner writer #fantasy writing #book writing

[ttrpgsolostoriesforyou]

Scene 4 v1: Crossing the glacier

(I skipped scene 3 because I couldn't think of anything and might omit it entirely.)

(We'll see.)

Aaron looked at his traveling companions a hundred or more meters ahead of him, waiting patiently for him to catch up. The skis were still difficult for him to build a rhythm with. He pulled more with his guide poles than he was supposed to and his arms ached.

"Fathers who pull the heavens, provide strength and guidance," he said towards the sky before pushing forward. When he caught up, two of the party went ahead to find a place to camp, while the leader and another stayed with him to provide tips and suggestions.

When the camp was in sight, Aaron collapsed on a fallen tree nearby and drank some water from his skin. His joints and legs ached now, not just his arms.

"Here. Put a bit of this on your tongue and stay on the skis a bit longer. Keep moving. Your body is angry, but if you give in, tomorrow morning you'll be frozen without being cold," the young leader said while handing a thick yellow paste on a small curved knife over.

"What's this?" Aaron held the knife curiously and sniffed. The smell of the paste made his eyes burn and he began to tear. "Foul."

The red haired lead took another scoop on the tip of his finger from a hidden spot on his belt and popped the yellow paste into his mouth. Aaron watched him carefully and saw him swallow.

"Helps the aches. Answers prayers better than your gods do. Do it, or we'll leave you for dead. We won't carry you around to search for whatever it is you're looking for. The world out here isn't kind enough for that." He ran his fingers through his thick beard then scratched his chin. "C'mon. Eat the paste. By the end of this journey, you'll learn to love it."

Aaron put a little on his tongue and felt it burn. The lead nodded at him and watched him grimace as he licked the knife, mashed the paste around his mouth, and swallowed. His stomach began to wretch and the lead slid over and clamped Aaron's mouth shut.

"Hold, hold, hold. If the gods want you to survive, they know this is for the best."

Aaron panicked and coughed as it tickled his throat and mouth. He found after a few moments, it had a slight sweetness to it and something he noted as fermentation. He swallowed the rest and coughed.

"What is it? What did you make me eat?"

"Your limbs. The ache tolerable now?"

Aaron paused, then shook his arms and legs a little to test them out. "I suppose they are."

The lead nodded, "Aye. Go help Harlin with laying out camp. They're over by the conifers. They'll show you how to set up your bedroll so you don't freeze to death in the middle of the night." He slid off towards the pair who went ahead and the cleric watched as they broke off into quiet conversation.

#fantasy #fantasy writer #story prompts #solo ttrpg #writing ideas #book writing #beginner writer #fantasy writing

[ttrpgsolostoriesforyou]

Tangent: i'm sorry did you say street magic prompt

Over the weekend, my partner and I started a session of "i'm sorry did you say street magic." She was in the mood for more roleplay than world building, but saw me reading the book and wanted to give it a shot.

The book is only 54 pages and I recommend reading it once through and try to explain it to yourself before teaching others because I found myself flipping back and forth between pages to make sure I was explaining concepts right.

That said, here's where we start our session and approximately how far we got before my cat threw up on the notecards.

Tmi? Sorry.

Unfortunately, I don't remember the adjectives we picked for this session, but for tone and themes, we played with the idea of a mix of steampunk and a space station. Clunky technology keeping people alive in space. Automatons, ghosts, and a little bit of magic.

Let's start with The Spokes. Do you want to find a way somewhere else? Go to the Spokes. An interconnected highway of walkways leading to hundreds of sections elsewhere in the space station. Ships unload their cargo and passengers here and anyone with anything can find a way out.

Of course, you wouldn't know if you were in the spokes without its landmarks. Particularly The Font. The domed water station that supplies everything around. A complex filtration system keeps it clean and the sight of how it all works reminds everyone they're all here because of it. It's very much a "in sight, in mind" type of design which generates its own tricks of the light when starlight hits it.

Since the worlds come here to trade and prepare for journeys beyond, it makes sense people and things would fall through the cracks. If you're not careful, you'll end up wandering down a tight corridor into a black market or nest of undulating roaches. If you're careful and lucky, maybe you'll find a quiet space to meditate and listen to the station's hum. Sometimes things fall through the cracks because they're neglected, sometimes it's on purpose, and sometimes someone needs to send a message without any witnesses.

Then there is the Market and another place called the Antiquities Graveyard. One collects the new, the other deals with the past. Needless to say, it's almost better not describing either as they're mirrors of the same coin with their own rhythms, which some would say, "Keeps the station spinning."

As far as residents are concerned, aside from unmentioned ones, the strangest is Tom1. An automaton that generates a preferred frequency for energy beings who pass through the ship occasionally. Once they discover there's an inhabitant they can experience the station through as well as communicate with, they find themselves sticking around. Since it was first observed 30 cycles ago, Tom1 has been inhabited by energetic beings at least once or twice a cycle for varying amounts of time. It spends most of its time at the A-Fac, the Automaton Facility where others like it are repaired, tweaked or repurposed to suit station needs.

#writing ideas #fantasy #solo ttrpg #beginner writer #fantasy writing #fantasy writer #scifi #science fiction #short story #worldbuilding

[ttrpgsolostoriesforyou]

Sage Against the Machine

#writing ideas #writing prompt #story prompts #dialogue prompt #fic prompt

[ttrpgsolostoriesforyou]

As a Jew I wholeheartedly believe that, folks who are pretending nothing is wrong and Palestinians aren't being murdered every day would have absolutely ignored the Holocaust and let my folks get killed without blinking an eye.

Americans have a lot of heroic fantasies about what they would have done during the Holocaust or chattel slavery, and the answer for a lot of them is absolutely nothing. They would have complained about the people actually doing things for being too disruptive. We Jews did the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising, and they would have called this terrorism. They would have also complained about MLK and Malcolm X, the former of which took the economies of entire cities hostage. Modern day disruptions don't hold a candle to historical disruptions.

In a two of more decades, people are going to use excuses like "I didn't know!" or pretend they were supportive all along, making tear jerking films about the Palestinian plight. We need to not let them do this.

[ttrpgsolostoriesforyou]

the lesbian computer from portal was right. given the circumstances ive been shockingly nice

[ttrpgsolostoriesforyou]

Scene 2: Conversation with priest v1

Aaron held his robes above his ankles, wary of the muddy roads through the town of Helier. It was unseasonably warm the prior night and brought rain, which he was certain would create difficult icy paths to people walking to and fro. He stopped to wonder if his deep boot prints might cause a cart wheel trouble later this week. The echo of his dreams pushed the concern out of his mind and spurred him forward to speak to the Father who brings the morning.

An old man wrapped in thick robes sat facing the east in the open tower. A halo of incense hung about his balding head. Aaron approached quietly, waiting for the older man to sense his presence.

“Guest of the morning, the peace of the sky has come. Be welcome and speak,” came a gruff voice from the mass of robes.

Aaron dipped his thumb in a small clay bowl near the entrance and brushed cold water from the tip of his nose to the top of his forehead. He could smell something else amidst the incense but couldn’t quite place it. The distant smell of sickness. He pressed forward.

“Morning’s grace be with us. Praise to you for another peaceful morning. I come this morning seeking advice, Father who brings the morning,” Aaron said, keeping his gaze lowered to the base of the other man’s robes.

A thin hand reached out to the canister of incense and wafted more about the room. “You may have it. May the morning fog bring us clarity.”

Slowly, Aaron explained his series of dreams over the last six months. From the early echoes of the voice in darkness to it leading him to the top of a glacier he believed to be nearby. The Father Who Brings the Morning barely moved beneath his robes, only occasionally wafting more incense or asking a question. When Aaron was done, there was a long silence.

“This sounds like you’re being tasked from Father Who Bears the Evening. There is nothing to worry about. You should seek out the glacier and we’ll fund your travels. Return tomorrow with a list of supplies and a few names, we’ll get you started on your journey. Be warned, this will be a difficult task but when the voice speaks, carefully listen. It will guide you well.” A robed hand waved Aaron away with a sigh then began a low prayer towards the horizon, where the sun peaked over the jagged mountains.

———-

There are things about this I like and don’t like. It’s a rough draft, so I think it has decent bones, but I think I could flesh out the city itself a bit more and what it’s like in Helier. Hit the senses more. Think more about the climate in this mountain town.

My instinct is to make it a town filled with narrow walk ways and stairs. A place secluded in some ways, but I think I only want part of the town like that. Just the section with the religious sect in power there.

Have to work on consistent verb tense, but this is a rough draft with a separate scene, so I’m not too concerned about it at the moment.

Just getting the bones.

#fantasy #fantasy writer #writing ideas #solo ttrpg #beginner writer #fantasy writing

[ttrpgsolostoriesforyou]

v1: Whisps of magic and metal swirled about her. The vortex tugged at everything, pulling papers and small objects towards it, to then whip them about at anything nearby. Charice's locket would push and pull against her chest, occasionally daring to thrash against her face. Through blurry eyes, she realized she was too late. She'd abandoned her post at the crystalline engine, it awoke and began to change the world around it.

Pieces of clockwork were unrolling from its core and linking to the tower's floor and stone walls. Stonework unravelled and shifted to make room for magical sinew and cog. A tendril extended from the center and wrapped itself around her foot. Pain shot through her leg as it began to shift and turn into metal and glass. She focused the pain and began her rhymes. The mindless engine's heart thrummed, each beat whirling the room into a bigger frenzy. Charice chanted to its rhythm.

To slow it. To buy time. Her chanting slowly worked through the winds, wrapping song around the device itself. As she did so, it slowed its consumption of her leg. A part of her, growing distant, sighed in relief the pain was steady and easier to ignore. Charice closed her eyes, opened a door within herself, and let the engine inside. She could feel it slowly working its way through her body, slowly replacing blood and muscle. "I've slowed it, for now," she breathed out as she collapsed.

----- Rough around the edges but I think I like some ideas in here.

Rolled a Lisergia Prompt

Location: The Garden Of Steel Experience: A reverse hurricane Avatar: Deserter Creature: Gorgon My initial thoughts: The Garden of Steel is made up of gears, engines, and clockwork guarded by a creature who turns people to components needed to grow the garden. The deserter/gorgon aspect: Initial thoughts on this were the gorgon or creature turning things to base components for the garden was paying a penance. They're responsible for this abomination becoming as bad as it did in the first place and were cursed to nurture it. Anyway, it's a prompt! Take it if it inspires you!

#writing ideas #writing prompt #story prompts #fantasy writer #solo ttrpg

[ttrpgsolostoriesforyou]

Rolled a Lisergia Prompt

Location: The Garden Of Steel Experience: A reverse hurricane Avatar: Deserter Creature: Gorgon My initial thoughts: The Garden of Steel is made up of gears, engines, and clockwork guarded by a creature who turns people to components needed to grow the garden. The deserter/gorgon aspect: Initial thoughts on this were the gorgon or creature turning things to base components for the garden was paying a penance. They're responsible for this abomination becoming as bad as it did in the first place and were cursed to nurture it. Anyway, it's a prompt! Take it if it inspires you!

#writers of tumblr #fantasy writer #writing prompt #writing ideas #story prompts

[ttrpgsolostoriesforyou]

scene 1: dream sequence v1

I outlined the scenes I'd need based on what I rolled and randomly generated. Well, the bare minimum anyway.

Here's a rough go of scene 1:

Through his breath, Aaron looked at the gray and blue crags breaking the horizon. They were sandwiched between snow and a white sky and grounded him into place. He felt if he spent too much time looking up, he'd lift into the sky and disappear. Swallowed whole by the cold winds and empty sky. He grimaced and held his morning cross tight in his hands. Something had called him here. He sensed them at the edges of his mind and soul. Magic laden tendrils reached out towards him and he awoke in his bed. Winter air broke through the shutters and took the embers' life sometime in the night. Aaron wrapped himself in thick furs, closed the shutters, and began to slowly warm the room back up.

A whisper caused him to pause and stare out towards the glacier and mountains west of Hemlin.

"Father who bears the morning, guide me. Father who stokes the hearth, provide. Father who speaks the truth, protect me from lies." In the motion of the faith, he stroked his thumb up from the bridge of his nose to the edge of his hairline in a straight line. After a sparse breakfast and tea, he carefully donned his robes and resolved to speak to Father Who Bears the Morning and burn incense for guidance. The dreams had grown stronger and more urgent. Hungry for him in reality. Something special had reached out and he needed to make sure it was not malicious. ___________ Describe the robes and maybe his room in a little more detail. What type of place is he staying in? Hit the senses. Watch verb tense.

#writing blog #fantasy #solo ttrpg

[ttrpgsolostoriesforyou]

Session 1

I played a brief session of Delve the other night. I like to use it to generate writing prompts. If you're not familiar with the game, it's a TTRPG dungeon map game. You start with a team of five dwarves and explore a dungeon by drawing from a deck of cards. As you explore, you gather resources, discover rooms, run into monsters and other disasters. The goal is to survive. So you use the resources to build rooms like barracks to buy soldiers or cages to hold hounds or tame monsters. It can change every time you play.

To keep it fresh, I like to think of a leader in the group running the expedition, assign traits and try to think of how they'd approach the dungeon. If they're not thoughtful, the dungeon can be brutal. As is the case below. Part of it was also literally in the cards I drew.

Here's how a session went and how I use it like an outline for a WIP.

I rolled on some inspiration tables in the book Roll For Novel (I think?) to generate a setting and a way the dungeon is discovered.

The prompts were: Avatar of Fertility; lake of ice; worshippers of the avatar.

I turned those into:

"A cleric has a dream of a lost idol calling out to them from amidst a world of ice and snow. They seek meaning from a high priest who encourages them to man an expedition and search for it. They explore a nearby glacier and upon accident, discover plants growing deeper in a crevice." This is where I start drawing cards. The cards had them discover a vast forest shielded by or from layers of ice with it's own unique flora and fauna. They spend several days there and discover an abandoned library with large stone doors.

Inside, they discover a strange glowing glyph that's warm to the touch and a storeroom with a cache of unspoiled supplies.

Bolstered by good luck, they discover a cave entrance and through a series of tunnels discover a large dormant lava chute.

Exploring further, they discover a dormant lich, which awakens and kills them all.

Now with that all in mind, I can break it all down into scenes.

Scene 1: Dream sequence

Scene 2: Conversation with the high priest.

Scene 3: Putting a team together with some character disagreements or whatever.

Scene 4: Journey to the glacier. It was dangerous. Oh yeah? How dangerous was it? It was so dangerous I'm not entirely sure sending someone back for help means they survive or at the very least, you're stressed out if someone goes back alone.

Scene 5: Accidental discovery of the dungeon. Not to be tropey, but probably due to a disagreement or dwarves suck at walking on glaciers or there is a small disaster.

Scene 6: Forest exploration and foreshadowing that all isn't right in here.

Scene 7: Discovering the library. Did you get the memo about how things are weird here?

Scene 8: Tunnels. I'm asking you again, how dangerous is this about to get?

Scene 9: Lich and everybody dies?

Now with this rough outline, I get a sense of the whole thing. Tropes come to mind and that's okay. Nine scenes isn't that much and I can already think of maybe two or three more scenes being needed. It's broken down into something kind of tangible now, so I can go on and play in the scenes as I think about them.

#writeblr #indie ttrpg #dnd #fantasy #writer community