Playing, writing and selling games.

The Dark Symbols let you write scenarios that can be played with Cthulhu Dark or, indeed, any other Cthulhu system.

This is a clue. You must investigate to discover it.

• In Cthulhu Dark, make a roll.
• In Call of Cthulhu, make a skill roll.
• In Trail of Cthulhu, spend an ability point.
• In Nemesis, make a skill roll.

Decide for yourself which skill is appropriate. Alternatively, the Keeper may reveal the skill without a roll.

You must talk to someone to reveal this clue.

• In Cthulhu Dark, make a roll.
• In Call of Cthulhu, make a skill roll.
• In Trail of Cthulhu, spend an ability point.
• In Nemesis, make a skill roll.

Again, decide which skill is appropriate or the Keeper may reveal the clue without a roll.

If a skill is needed, it will usually be social (e.g. Bargain) or academic (e.g. Architecture).

This may damage your character’s sanity.

Use the number of branches, on the symbol, as a guide to how bad the damage might be. (The symbol above has six branches).

• In Cthulhu Dark, make an Insanity roll.
• In Call of Cthulhu, make a SAN roll. The number of branches indicates the die size for SAN loss. For example, the symbol above indicates a D6 potential SAN loss.
• In Trail of Cthulhu, make a Stability Check. The number of branches indicates the potential Stability loss. For example, the symbol above shows a potential loss of 6 Stability points.
• In Nemesis, make a Sanity roll. Choose an appropriate gauge: usually Violence for gore, The Unnatural for weirdness. The number of branches indicates the Intensity. For example, the symbol to the left indicates 6 Intensity.

Check to see whether you notice this.

• In Cthulhu Dark, make a roll.
• In Call of Cthulhu, roll Spot Hidden.
• In Trail of Cthulhu, roll Sense Trouble.
• In Nemesis, make an appropriate Sense roll.

Use a skill to do this.

• In Cthulhu Dark, make a roll.
• In Call of Cthulhu, make a skill roll.
• In Trail of Cthulhu, spend a point.
• In Nemesis, make a skill roll.

You might fight this thing. In Cthulhu Dark, run or die. In other systems, use the combat rules, making stats up if you need to.

(Trail of Cthulhu is a trademark of Pelgrane Press Ltd. Trail of Cthulhu is published under an arrangement with Chaosium. Call of Cthulhu is registered trademark of Chaosium Inc., and is used with their permission. Chaosium Inc. is the Registered Trademark of Chaosium Inc.)

Here’s a new rule for Cthulhu Dark. Try it and tell me how it goes.

Sometimes, you want your character to attempt an action and fail.

Example: Graham is playing Mitch McCafferty, a librarian. He is trying to learn a ritual that banishes Ithaqua.

Mitch, the character, wants to succeed in learning the ritual. Graham, the player, thinks it’s much more fun if Mitch learns the ritual wrongly.

In situations like this, roll to fail, rather than rolling to succeed. The highest die shows how badly you fail.

On a 1, Mitch makes a minor error: Ithaqua is banished, but can find his way back, and Mitch knows it. On a 5, Mitch fails utterly: he believes he has banished Ithaqua, but has, in fact, only angered him. On a 6, Mitch fails utterly and glimpses beyond human understanding: he believes he has banished Ithaqua, but in fact, has fallen under Ithaqua’s control.

Use this sparingly. The default is: you advocate for your character and the dice tell you when you fail.

This rule is there for the specific circumstance when you think: I’m rolling, but I really don’t want to succeed. When you think that, roll to fail.

I’ve just got back from a day of playing Hide and Seek’s games at the National Maritime Museum. It was a great day and I’m completely, physically exhausted. This is what we played.

(Oh, I genuinely enjoyed all the games, by the way, so I’m going to gently criticise them as I discuss them. This is meant nicely, and besides, what the hell do I know.)

We started with A Motley Cruise, in which we formed teams of three and became ships. We were either merchants, who tried to ferry treasure across the ocean, or pirates, who tried to steal it. Fascinating stuff.

The movement rules were: pirates took seven steps, then could turn left or right by up to 90 degrees before moving again. Merchants took three steps, then had to turn at least 90 degrees or more, left or right, before their next move. (Thus, pirates moved faster and progressed generally forward. Merchants moved slower and moved in a zig-zag fashion, doubling back on themselves. I am not explaining this well. They moved in weird and different ways, basically.)

So, at the start, it seemed like a strategic game, almost a board game. When we played, though, it became physical, even athletic. You’d see a ship bearing down on you and move fast. A breakthrough moment, for us, was when we realised we could move our ship quickly if we coordinated: one-two-three-turn, one-two-three-turn. Wonderful, fascinating stuff and a great start to the day.

Next was Battle Of The Sea. There were two teams, each with five bibs numbered 1 to 25. When a number was called, someone from the team put on the appropriate bib and ran into the centre of the floor to grab a handkerchief.

It was great and intensely physical. It felt like a game you’d play in a PE lesson (I went to an all-boys school): it verged on getting seriously competitive. I hurt my knee and it still hurts a bit. There was a thing with a board, with squares numbered from 1 to 25, and you won if you got a line across the board. In practice, however, this didn’t quite matter, because you’d just try your hardest to grab the handkerchief when the number was called. Really good. Really intense.

Then came What’s The Point?. We found stars, hidden about the museum, each of which had an arrow pointing to the next star. This wasn’t always simple: often, the arrows sometimes pointed through walls. It was a change of pace and, again, interestingly physical. I’d find an arrow and start marching off in the direction it pointed, looking under things on the way. It was lovely.

The nicest thing, of course, was the potential to start the game simply by finding a star. You’d find a star, follow the arrow, and find the next star. So there’s a possibility of it becoming a fun little toy, that you’d pick up for a while, then abandon when you found something else. I love things like that. (My book, Stealing Cthulhu, has oddities like that hidden throughout the text.)

I took 45 minutes to sit quietly with a cup of tea. I think this should be mandatory.

Then we played Spin Your Partner, a country-dancing trading game. You had ribbons: red, blue, black and white. And you danced around, exchanging partners, and after a while you’d trade ribbons. The idea was to get as many red, blue, black and white sets as you could. It was all rather superb.

One thing I noticed was that many of the games were competitive. This was interesting: there was a happy, collaborative atmosphere, and I often wanted to collaborate rather than compete. I wondered how Spin Your Partner, especially, would work as a collaborative game.

It was a wonderful day. I am bloody knackered.

The Ennie nominations have been announced. I’ve been nominated for A Taste For Murder (Best New Games) and for my scenario The Dance In The Blood (Best Writing). This means I can use this picture!

The Dance in the Blood also has an honourable mention for Best Adventure, but there’s not a picture for that.

One thing I hear often is: if you have a crowdfunded project, you must have a video. This is worth questioning.

First, a word on statistics. It’s probably true (I haven’t seen the figures) that Kickstarters with videos make more money. But that doesn’t mean that, if you add a video, you’ll raise more money. Correlation isn’t causation. Perhaps Kickstarters with videos are generally better planned, which makes them successful. Perhaps the vast majority of Kickstarter projects cover movies and music, which lend themselves well to videos, and skew the general statistics. I don’t know! But let’s not assume that videos make money.

Secondly, an example. Brennan Taylor’s recent Kickstarter for Bulldogs, which had a video, raised $13,430. My Stealing Cthulhu fundraiser, which didn’t, raised $13,001. I think they’re broadly comparable (and I’m happy Brennan was so successful). Perhaps a video would have pushed my total higher. Who knows? But the project was very successful without one.

Thirdly, a personal preference. I love well-made videos. Jeremy Keller’s TechNoir video is a joy. I find other videos less convincing. I think I stopped Brennan’s after 30 seconds, sorry Brennan, and, well, I won’t give more examples, but the good ones are rare. So I certainly believe that good videos sell games, but I don’t think any video is better than none.

Here is what I think. I think it’s not about the video. I think it’s about letting people know about your game. For my Stealing Cthulhu fundraiser, I gave people a big, extended preview, in PDF form. For this Delta Green Kickstarter, which is about to hit its $26,000 target without a video, there are previews of the fiction.

So, please, don’t think the video itself is the thing. Don’t necessarily think that, if you switch your webcam on and record, your Kickstarter will be better. Instead, think about how you can get people invested in your game. Think beyond the obvious (obvious things include “Show them the art”, “Describe the world” and “Tell them the characters they play”) and get them invested. (Read the Fiasco preview. It’s a huge chapter, released freely online. It doesn’t just get you interested in the premise. It makes you want to read more. And then you buy the book so you can.)

Above all: don’t rely on a video to sell your game. It is not a magic selling tool. If you’re selling a book, you want to get people interested in a book. I am guessing that the best way to do that is: show them the book.

If you’d like to preorder Stealing Cthulhu, you can do it now. The hardback edition is very popular.

Here is a first attempt at Moves for a Cthulhu Dark Keeper: the things you should do during a game. If you don’t know what to do, look at this list. They’re divided into sections.

With many moves, if you use it twice, you should escalate it. For example, if you retaliate by cutting telephone cables, retaliate later by sabotaging the Investigator’s vehicle.

1. DESCRIBE THE WORLD

Describe the location

This theatre is shabby, with a smell of mould and something repellent and unknowable.

Ask for practicalities

Where do you stay? How do you get there? Do you eat before talking to the farmer?

Let them talk

To NPCs or each other.

Summarise what is happening

So you’re all in the bar.

Move time on

Later that night, the bar is closing.

Ask what they do

What do you do?

2. GIVE INFORMATION (use with TWIST THE INFORMATION, below)

Describe the harm

There is a brain in a cylinder. (See Misdirect and Add Distance).

Describe weirdness

There is a strange vibration in the air. (Use with Add Distance and Misdirect. Do this especially when someone rolls a 6 to investigate.)

Describe signs of the creature

There is a footprint here. (Use with Add Distance and Misdirect.)

Give them something to study

There is a black stone / some books / some footprints here.

Give them an NPC

A surly farmer greets you.

Describe the horror

There’s blood flowing here, in rivulets, congealing around your feet.

When you do this, take a moment, all to yourself, to paint the horrific picture.

3. TWIST THE INFORMATION

Misdirect

There is a brain missing from this corpse. (The harm is “They put brains in cylinders”, so you misdirect a little.)

Add distance

Old Jim said there was a brain missing from the corpse, but he often drinks.

Ways to add distance include:

• Obfuscation: It was foggy, but you think you saw X.
• Glimpses: Just for a moment, you saw X.
• Other interpretations: It may have been X, but it could have been the trees moving.
• Reports: Old Jim said X. There are folktales of X. Someone writes you a letter about X. The newspaper says X.
• Unreliability: Old Jim said X, but he seems insane.
• Distance: In the distance, you glimpse X.
• Barriers: You hear X through a wall.
• Anonymity: Once, X happened to a farmer (rather than “Old Ammi, the farmer”)

Colour the information

You remember folktales of corpses, found without brains, dating back to Georgian times and perhaps earlier, in the mountains of Tibet. (Do this especially when someone rolls a 5 to investigate.)

Give specific time periods or remote geographical locations.

4. RETALIATE

Approach

Late at night, you hear something moving outside your window.

Leave a trace

The next morning, you find footsteps outside your window.

Throw the monster at them

At the end of the scenario.

5. OTHER RANDOM STUFF

Look for other endings

If the Investigators fight each other, that’s probably the end.

Turn moves back on them

Like it says.

Offer a lose-lose choice

Do you kill the Deep One Hybrids or let them live?

If you’ve ever read Vincent Baker’s Apocalypse World, you’ll have been tempted to steal its ideas. This, then, is a first attempt at stealing its GMing ideas for Cthulhu Dark.

The principles of being a Cthulhu Dark Keeper are as follows.

Make the world real

Whereever the Investigators are, make it detailed and fascinating. Either do your research or improvise well.

Focus on the characters

This isn’t about you telling your story. It’s about how they react to the horror. Focus on them.

Reveal your story

The stuff you’ve planned is there to be revealed. Do it.

Respond with fuckery

You’re reading books in the library? You’re trying to capture a Mi-Go? That’s not going to go well.

I’ve suggested you create a world the Investigators can freely explore. Given that, I must explain remote locations.

There are two reasons you might use a remote location.

1. You like that location.

That’s fine. It’s a geographically remote location (perhaps, for example, a clue in London leads to Edinburgh). But it’s not narratively remote. The Investigators can go there, more or less whenever they like, as soon as they realise Edinburgh is significant.

When you use a location like this, then, ensure it’s easily accessible.

2. You’re deliberately trying to keep stuff separate.

Now, this is difficult. Normally, it’s not something I’d recommend: certainly, I wouldn’t suggest building a railroad of separate locations, with clues leading from each to the next.

However, it can often be useful to quarantine horror, by keeping it in a separate location. This prevents the following problem. Let’s say the Keeper has planned a scenario based around a Shoggoth in the basement. Here’s something that can happen.

Keeper: So you’re in a mansion, with three floors and a basement.
Player: I go to the basement!
Keeper: Okaaaaay. Well. I guess you find a Shoggoth there. And that’s the end of the scenario.

And here’s something even worse that can happen.

Keeper: So you’re in a mansion, with three floors and a basement.
Player: I go to the basement!
Keeper: Okaaaaay. It’s locked. With an unpickable lock. And you can’t crowbar it.

And, as we know from many railroaded scenarios, there is a key to that lock, which will be found at the end of the adventure.

Thus, we put that horror somewhere the Investigators won’t wander. Specifically, we put it in a named location, which they must know before exploring. For example, we put the Shoggoth in the Old Sewers, which aren’t near the mansion. It’s narrative sleight-of-hand: a more palatable version of the unpickable lock.

There’s a good reason to do this. It quarantines the horror: it ensures that the Investigators won’t see the Shoggoth until the end of the scenario.

So…you know. It’s not ideal. But it’s a valid technique and, right at the moment,  I can’t think of an alternative. So…I guess…you can put the horror in a separate, named location.

As you might know, I’m working towards Keeper rules for Cthulhu Dark. I’m still working it out, but in these posts, I’ll begin sketching it out.

First, scenario generation. It goes like this. (If you’ve read all the PDFs, you’ll have seen some of this before.)

Answer the following questions.

Where is the scenario set?

Make the setting rich. Research it.

Which Mythos creature are you using?

Just one, please. (Unless you’re using a linked pair, like Elder Things and Shoggoths).

That Mythos creature carries lots of stuff with it: artifacts, weirdness, themes. For example, the Mi-Go have a black stone as an artifact, a strange vibration as weirdness and mining as a theme. The Deep Ones have jewellery as artifacts, a smell as weirdness and immortality as a theme. Remember these: you’ll use them in later posts.

What harm has the creature done to humans? And who has it harmed?

Make it something that creeps you out. If it doesn’t, make it worse. The Lloigor are draining energy from citizens of London? Not enough. They’re luring citizens to London to drain them? Better. They’re causing polypous growths to grow on people that try to leave? Ew.

And it’s harmed someone already. Who?

Now fill in the detail.

Add NPCs. Add books. Add whatever you need.

Crucially, all of this information is there to be revealed. Don’t hide it. Don’t plan to dole it out piece-by-piece. Don’t force it into a railroad of locations. Just give the Investigators the first piece, then let them explore freely to reveal the rest. Gradually, they’ll uncover the creature and the harm it does.

Thus, produce a world that the Investigators can freely explore. (But see Remote Locations and Quarantine, in the next post.)