I think if you need any proof that the OSR is living is to see how much naysayers continually feel the need to tell you that it is in fact, dead. Now you might provide obvious examples to all their arguments – there are still new and changing ideas coming out of it, and there are more people playing the “style” (by which I mean old school games and games inspired by such, I am referring to a much larger player base than just people who quote the Principia Apocrypha) than ever.
One of the most important points about the OSR is that it was not a recreation of some mythologized past. When you play an OSR game, you are most likely not playing how they did in the 70s. Granted, the styles of play were so diverse that maybe you are playing something in the ballpark similar to one particular campaign back then, but most likely that’s not the case. And there was certainly not one particular style, probably from the point that Dave ran a game for Gary & co., and then Gary started running for his players.
This “OSR is dead” as a whatever scene is doing similar mythologizing – it’s pointing to a hyped subsection of one OSR scene as the scene. It’s usually saying either the scene you participated in, or the scene your friends talked about was the real OSR, and since current OSRs are different, they’re obviously artistically or stylistically or thematically or whateverically “dead.”
It’s straight-up saying “the past I remembered was the one true way, and anything that existed contemporaneously to that wasn’t really part of the OSR, and anything after it is dead/undead/unliving.”
Go grab three random adventures or games or supplements prior to 2019. Go jump on a blog, a forum, and a chat room at that period. Grab Assault on Blacktooth Ridge and The God that Crawls and tell me that those two are part of a single, centralized artistic movement. Try to tell me that the K&KA OSRIC folk were part of some central discussion with the GLOG kids.
One of the killer features of “the” OSR was that it was decentralized, so I don’t see how saying “well there are more people now so it’s even MORE decentralized” is any further indication that this concept is dead, if anything it’s proof that its growing.
I have yet to see any argument that the OSR is dead is anything more than “the past that I remembered has more positive qualities than the past I didn’t participate in, or the present that is different from what I remember or was told about.”
Throughout a week and a day, Florby decides to get completely blackout drunk, never having done so. They ask for Wulfwig to chaperone them, but the good cleric refuses. Yarlexia joins, and they meet a treasure seeker who found an ancient megalith about 40-50 miles to the southeast, ruled over by actual Harpies.
Wulfwig felt that the fortress did not have an adequate place for the followers of Light Above to worship, so he rented out a small plot of land near the market, and begin making plans to install a shrine.
Yarlexia continued to tell fortunes, and was graciously rewarded with a minor crystal ball by Lady Lecit, a residing noblewoman down on her luck.
Hirelings
Our group decided to interview quite a large number of hirelings, taking into service Hildo (lol name generators) the Aescetic, Carmox the cat-toting peasant, Fulco the Hobbit who worships a divine badger and seeks were-badger-dom, and Stalforth the archer who had been a slave to some inhuman monsters in the reach.
Yarlexia decided to sacrifice Hildo, who was noted as “having nothing” to summon yet another demon. She called out to a Prince of the Abyss, who was so offended by this offering he cursed her with a blunted intellect.
She resigned to resummoning Betsy, who gladly consumed the hireling.
Adventure
The adventurers made their way back to the caves, on the way encountered a small community of hobbits immigrating to the reach. Yarlexia paid them a sizeable portion of silver and pointed them towards the villages surrounding Fortress Solace, so they “blessed” the party by playing them a moving tune, and allowed each member to take a bite of their heirloom scone, baked ages ago and passed down through the generations.
They made their way back to the caves, where the fallen corpses had been stripped of flesh, but their bones remained. They made their way into the cult’s cave but found it strangely unguarded. To the south, where once lay a pit of zombies instead had a bubbling pit of gore, seemingly the flesh from the deceased turned into some unholy, roiling slurry. The group decided to not prod this, and made their way south to a large, vaulted room carved of dark stone. At the far end of the room sat a black throne whose seat held a large ruby, carved in the shape of a grinning skull – the symbol of the Sanguine Skull. All along the west and east walls stood twelve skeleton statues, painted red.
The party decided this was a trap, and thought to solve it after investigating the rest of the complex. Yarlexia instead convinced the demon Betsy to sprint in with her, grab the ruby and dash. As they made their way across the floor, a pit trap opened – Betsy falling to her apparent demise, while Yarlexia held onto the edge. The party intended to throw a rope to their Elven witch, but were shocked and surprised when the skeleton statues animated – they made their way over to Yarlexia and slew her, dumping her corpse in the pit. They also used their stone swords to knock Wulfwig to the floor, and then decapitated him. They also stabbed Solforth, who winced in pain and remained shocked as the party made a hasty retread back to the fortress.
Florby had grabbed Wulfwig’s head on the way out, and intended to place it in the cleric’s shrine. When the Elf confronted the Bishop Cadriel who had sent them on this mission, he was not pleased with the Bishop’s remote and uncaring response, cursing the priest and storming from the church.
I don’t know why I have been seeing a recent uptick in discussion on the “blorb” principles method of refereeing, but it seems like it has made its way back around Discord and the various microblog scenes as of late. This is not a style I would normally comment on – I see it very outside of what I like to play, especially when the author gave a very bad-faith hot-take on FKR.
But people have been making assertions about it that seem puzzling to me – they’re recommending it as an OSR prep style, for one, where I cannot fathom how it gets associated with the very emergent, high-trust style refereeing we strive for in various OSR communities.
blorb is extremely low trust – it’s a style that proposes a rigid hierarchy for the referee to follow, going so far as to hypothetically allow players to audit prep or a module to make sure that the referee didn’t supersede prep with emergent tools or fiat. It’s effectively the same sort of justification you see in communities that will allow for toxic play to flourish under the banner of “designer intent”, only the designer, in this case, is your prep.
The whole point of the referee in traditional roleplaying and adventure games is to utilize a source of higher fidelity rulings to step in when the mechanics or situation may produce fictionally inauthentic results. Or when they could use their experience, creativity, subject knowledge, and tools to arrive at a ruling quicker than mechanization could, often with a higher degree of specificity in that they as a human could take into context more elements than any rules text could.
Take for instance this example:
You have prepped a dungeon where a maniacal gnome has created a death trap dungeon. You placed a secret door to a treasure room off of some room – you have some reason why you selected this particular room and secret door setup.
Now let’s say in play that you realize your prior location is not suitable – maybe its in a place that would be generally inaccessible or dangerous for the gnome or its minions to reach. Maybe it does not line up with other emergent properties set forth by tools. Perhaps it doesn’t make structural sense once you examine the dungeon in play.
Now, you see a room that makes perfect sense for this. No sweat – the players have yet to find any hint of this secret door. They’re still at the entrance or fiddling with other elements – you can take a break and just shift the whole thing over to a place that will be more fictionally consistent with the dungeon, as well as the established elements of the gnome – such as it being an architectural genius.
By using your in-flight creativity and expertise around the fictional world you have course corrected a fictionally-inconsistent element into one that fits the setting and established lore. If you used blorb’s rigid adherence to prep you would be introducing fictional inconsistencies.
Having had this discussion with a few of the principles’ adherents, the argument I have received around this is pretty demeaning. It leverages the above as a critical mistake that the referee must work to improve (later… in other forms of prep, but never during the game). It plays into some impossible notion that one will never prep inconsistencies, or run a module that has mistakes in it.
All of this is hogwash, of course. What is better – to assume “perfection” (which I think is a demeaning way to phrase it and one that sorely misassumes the role of the referee), admonish “mistakes”, and force people to play a game that makes less sense in lip service to some arbitrary manifesto. Or is it better to allow for flexibility, trusting a referee to use whatever tools they have at their disposal, and to trust the players to converse, negotiate, and question elements to clarify the understanding of the world – to recognize that not everything is going to be perfect in prep or play, and to allow for the referee to follow their intended role and run the best game possible?
Our party eliminates half of the Cult of the Sanguine Skull.
Characters
Florby, the Elven Alchemist
Apicius, the Farming Gorumond Fighter
Brother Murray, the Cleric of Light Above
Yarlexia, the escaped slave-turned-Witch Elf
Wulfwig the Ponderous, Cleric of Light Above
Steven the non-descript, an average mentalist mage
Downtime
Florby spent the week of downtime adventuring. They were abducted by a mad noble and their entourage looking for a tournament. Arriving at an abandoned monastery that had been turned into a statuary, the noble challenged a statue, which rose to meet them and struck down the crazed gentry. In the chaos Florby escaped, but had no chance to steal any goods.
Apicius proposed that Labrix the hireling wed his cousin, and tend to his farm, and in exchange, Apicius would eventually give Labrix his own sheep flock. The hireling agreed, and in the revelry of the wedding, Apicius became drunk and got into the losing side of a knife fight.
Brother Murray spent the week training his animals to obey simple commands, as well as investigating the locked box the party had acquired last session, finding it magical.
Yarlexia told fortunes and read tarot, receiving a working wage of silver.
Wulfwig decided to drink the week away, falling in with some bandits known as Hegrit’s Harpies, and suffered a massive hangover.
Session Report
Florby tried to pick the lockbox but got sprayed with acid, receiving notable scars to their torso, inhibiting breathing for a while. Inside lay an iron statue of a dwarf, carved into it a curse one could levy at an adversary to “ruin their fingers.”
Yarlexia attempted to summon a demon, slaying a scoundrel from the Copper Cockatrice to do so and called into her protection a humanoid pig/owl demon named Bechisi, who Yarlexia renamed Betty.
The group returned to the cult’s hideout, finding a massive wasp nest on the ascend, and ambushing the two huntsmen who served as guards, learning a bit more of the cult’s intentions, which mostly dealt with traversing through cycles of undead and rebirth.
Yarlexia took the form of one of the hunters and investigated the cave, while the others prepared to tumble rocks and even the tower if need be when enemies were drawn out.
Yarlexia spoke the cult’s secret phrase given to her by the hunter, which turned out to be a signal – the cultist she was conversing with sounded an alarm, ran behind a portcullis, and unleashed a horde of zombies. She began her escape back to the entrance, but as she made her way down the hallway – guards from the other direction were marching at her with bows, she decided to unleash Betsy upon them and make her way out of the cave.
The party waited as zombies followed out, saving the avalanche for the many cultists who came later to see if their pets had dispatched the invaders. The flesh of these dead cultists drew the zombies, and the party made quick work of them as well.
They also witnessed unusual, chaotic operations in the gully before the cult’s cave – dogmen crawling out of a bubbling pit of earth, and a massive bull-headed man disgusted by the carnage before the cult cave.
Entering into the cult complex, they found Betsy had fallen into a pit trap, and freed it – but were immediately attacked as the demon was no longer bound to Yarlexia. In the combat, Yarlexia continued to intone pacts and words of command and was eventually able to wrest Betsy back to her side.
The group proceeds north, finding four acolytes in a store room. They enter into combat and their hireling Hingle is decapitated by an acolyte. Eliminating two in combat, they get the other half to surrender, and piece out a few more details of the cult before delivering justice to these foul necromancers.
Having eliminated half of the cult’s numbers, losing a hireling, and taking some damage from the combats, they decide to make it back to Fortress Solae and recuperate before a final? assault on the cult.
A bit of a preamble for anyone not familiar with the acronym – there’s a movement or set of movements known as the FKR, standing for Free Kriegsspiel Revolution, a (mostly) joke term intended to contrast with the OSR to focus purely on a relationship to rules in gaming – namely that the referee is the interface between the fictional world and the player characters.
These movements tend to primarily focus on very small rulesets – often stuff like “d6 roll for low” or contested 2d6 rolls, just because these kinds of rulesets allow the referee to really focus in on rulings. I think there’s also a bit of fondness for how Bob Meyer runs Blackmoor.
So from the outside lots of people are starting to assume the FKR means nearly no-rules roleplaying games. But if you look at Kriegsspiel itself, or even the kind of rulesets Arneson seemed fond of writing – sometimes there are a lot of rules. And this to me is an important thing to note. It’s not the amount of rules.
FKR to me is purely a relationship to rules. If your table is composed of a referee who portrays the world opting to use rules as a tool whenever they wish, and players portraying characters responding with what they would do if they were in whatever fictional situation the ref is describing – that to me is FKR. It doesn’t matter if the ref is using a single coin flip, or if they decide to sometimes opt into Mythras, or their own hack of ASL, or anything else. The amount of crunch doesn’t impact the FKRishness, its if the table is focusing more on the fiction over the mechanics. This is obviously easier with light systems, but if the ref feels using something heftier “behind the screen”, that’s a perfectly valid approach.
I have used quite a lot of summoning systems over the years. My homebrew setting’s magic system is heavily based on negotiating with spirits, demons, etc. and I feel like I have tried a majority of systems out there – d&d hacks, summon spells, systems lifted from whole other games, freeform etc.
A lot of the impetus for the following rules comes down to me wanting to condense as many rolls as possible. I don’t want too much diceing going on when summoning, but I also want some unpredictability. I have decided to try to leverage something similar to a few of the systems I enjoy, while also trying to use something like the Turn Undead table and reaction rolls, as well as all of the Loyalty stuff.
Anyway, here’s a briefish version that I want to playtest more. Let me know what you think and if you use similar system.
Daemons
“Daemons” in my setting refer to a specific class of entity, although are close enough to fantasy depictions of horned and hoofed demons to work in that fashion. This could probably be extrapolated to work with other classes of spirits, but for scope I am going to assume fire and brimstone chaotic beings who want to feast on souls and wreak havoc for creation.
Daemons get assigned a Rank, this goes from about 1-8 or so, although could be scaled up or down to taste. The Rank correlates to their HD, general powers, known spells, etc. Configure daemons to your particular setting but in mine each daemon has 3 HD per rank, has a number of powers equal to their rank, also knows a number of “secrets” (this may be known spells, alchemical ingredients, actual in-setting secrets like who the king has been having an affair with, how to get into a specific dungeon, or why all the gnomes took off in that floating ziggurat). Daemons also have all of the typical abilities of a supernatural entity – they can only be struck by magic or blessed weapons, can see in the dark, probably have a suite of immunities equal to their rank, can summon d6 demons of a rank lower than it (who can then summon d6 demons of a lower rank), etc.
Every daemon should have a desire – this could be fairly blunt like blood, maybe its destruction of worldly good, or maybe it’s some kind of “enemy within” long play in the cosmic game of chess. Whatever it is this is mostly likely what the summoner will need to use to bargain with the daemon, or at least use to placate it. Daemons will have a Pact score when negotiated with by a summoner. This is basically their version of Loyalty. I’ll discuss the actual details of that later on, but for now know that it’s about how long a daemon will stand to be in a contract with a summoner.
I assume you have tables for the forms that daemons take in your setting, the types of powers they can have, and the exact spells they know. While there are thousands of tables that I could recommend a good place to start would be the Metamorphica Revised by Johnstone Metzger.
Also a “Summoner” is any class that you think should gain access to summoning. I let everyone summon, but if they don’t have a magic-using class they just count as 0-level.
Preparation
A summoner needs to have occult knowledge particular to the specific daemon they are summoning. This may be one of its names, its sigil, or a particular incantation to it. Whatever this is in your setting, this is the bare minimum to get an audience with the daemon.
Beyond the minimum the summoner probably takes a number of precautions when dealing with such feisty, chaotic spirits. Firstly they are hopefully conducting the ritual in a safe and sacred place – a holy temple, a sanctum, a library of great power, etc. They probably collected a bunch of implements to aid in the ritual like cups, wands, fancy mirrors, oils, daggers, all of those wizardly knick-knacks. They should also physically and mentally prepare for such a harrowing experience – meditating, psyching themselves up, imbibing in hallucinogenic drugs, practicing occult iconography, and daemons are pretty particular about wizard funk so the summoner should probably ritualistic bathe.
Magical circles and the like are also a pretty big deal.There’s probably also some magical shapes being drawn, chalked, salted, or scratched onto the floor – one to house the demon, and another to protect the summoner. Plumb your favorite renaissance occult book, tattoo parlour examples, or anime for inspiration on those.
The actual ritual of conjuration takes a number of hours equal to the daemon’s HD, although if the caster is in a particular hurry they could speed through it in daemon’s HD turns. Hurrying or failing to prepare may produce terrible results. And on that subject…
Summoning
As long as the summoner’s level is equal to or within one of the Rank of the daemon – the daemon is most likely conjured. If the daemon really does not want to be summoned then they can save vs. spells to resist, but if the caster went to all the trouble of intoning the daemon’s true name or whatever they should probably have gotten their attention.
So the daemon shows up, fire-and-brimstone, asking who dared called upon it and for what purpose. The summoner must then negotiate with the entity, telling it what they want and perhaps offering it something in exchange. Once the negotiating has come to a place where it’s clear what the summoner is asking and offering (if anything), roll on the following reaction table using the modifiers following it.
2d6
Daemonic Negotiation
2 or less
The daemon is hostile to everyone around. If it is not contained in a circle it will attempt to kill everyone not protected if it thinks it can. All witnesses must make a save to resist the terror of the daemon, running and screaming or cowering upon failure. The daemon will probably tell its peers that you’re marked for death, as well.
3-5
The daemon refuses to act in service of the summoner, returning the abyss spurned.
6-8
Uncertain, the daemon may agree to work for the summoner if its Desire is immediately met.
9-11
The daemon agrees to the conditions, the ref deciding upon or rolling its Pact score in secret (typically 3d6).
12 or more
The daemon agrees to the pact, or is dominated into servitude, add +1 Pact score to the daemon.
Condition
Modifier
Not in a secure location such as a temple or sanctum
-1
Daemon’s rank is higher than summoner levels
-1 per difference
Summoner’s levels are higher than the rank of the daemon
+1 per difference
Summoner failed to acquire the necessary implements
-1
Summoner failed to mentally/physically prepare
-1
Summoner hurried the ritual
-1
Daemon resisted the summon
-1
Daemon was offered a poor deal
-1
A sacrifice was performed for the daemon
+1 per HD of sacrificed entity
Particularly fancy implements were created for this one specific ritual
+1 per 500gp of bling spent on this one conjuration
The offer was particularly appealing to the daemon
+1
Binding & Pacting
Unless the summoner asks the daemon for something that may be handled immediately, the two enter into a pact. Much like loyalty, the referee either decides on the Pact score for the daemon, or rolls it, adjusting it by the results of the summoning. Every week that a daemon is in service to a summoner without having its desire met, its pact score is reduced by 1. Being treated particularly well may increase the daemon’s pact score. This should be rare, however, the daemon has stuff it has to do in the abyss and probably doesn’t want to pal around with some caster.
When a daemon is asked or commanded to do something for the summoner it does not wish to do, or if the daemon wishes to attempt to rebel, a check against its current Pact score. Rolling equal to or under the Pact score compels the demon to concede and obey, but rolling above allows the daemon to escape or to turn on its master.
At any point a summoner may release a daemon from their service, this is typically after both sides have come to a mutual agreement that the negotiation has been fulfilled, but ever a sly creature the daemon may decide to turn on the summoner.
Summoners may only have in their service a number of daemons equal to their level. Fortunately daemons may often summon lesser demons, creating an infernal pyramid scheme to fulfill cosmic contracts to the minimum technical level.
Banishing
Daemons may be banished as per Turn Undead rules of your preferred system. Note that Daemons have higher HD than their Rank, so they are easier to summon than they are to banish, so heed whatever precautions you can.
Daemonic Desire Examples
Destruction – blood sacrifice, the burning of beautiful art, the enactment of war.
Confusion – sow the seeds of strife, tear communities apart, convince others of falsehoods.
Corruption – gain worshippers, turn innocents rotten
Exaltation – gain the daemon or its followers worldly power, its cult infiltrating the nobility and the church
Hedonism – provide the daemon a good time – food, drugs, libations, etc.
Art – create something beautiful, yet horrific that appeases the daemon.
Knowledge – discover further secrets for the daemon to trade in the abyss
Challenge – the daemon wants its mettle tested, or it wants aid in defeating its rival, daemonic or otherwise
Advancement rules are another aspect of roleplaying that sees heavy mechanization. Which I totally get – I agree that games are about what they reward. How these rewards are illustrated, handed out, and utilized, however, has a variety of methods they can be handled with – and like everything else in this series I think you can get away having a fully featured and rich set of rewards without explicitly mechanizing them.
One of the things I have done when running Primeval 2D6 is to get rid of the more abstract notion of hit points, number of hits, etc. in favor of a more descriptive form of injuries.
This has coincided with my attempt to move all of my old school-styled gaming away from discussions of numbers and mechanics, and instead towards a discussion of the fiction as much as possible.
