Thursday, 3 May 2018

Set a course for the City

Cities, or plot hooks, or hometowns for NPCs, or... anything, really. I'm using these in Troika!, a game with a vast multiverse, so they're geared up to be on different worlds. With a bit of fiddling though I think most of them fit into generic fantasy settings with a big enough map!

As ever, it's a case of rolling 2d6, one for each digit, and consulting the table below! Hope these are useful.

11... Lasthork, a settlement founded on the frozen river Iborr. Lasthork was the site of the desperate unification of the savage Hork people and their foes the Phanac. Some centuries later and it is a frozen and bitter land, unified only in name. The Hork workers murmur of rebellion, while the Phanac draw up plans to send a fleet of ice-craft downstream to their lost lands.
12... Tremula, the shimmering city-state ruled by the brutal theocracy of the Djinn-eaters. Tremula is surround on all sides by dense forests of the tinkling, singing ghost-trees, calcified structures that stand between 4 and twenty metres. The city itself has an unearthly quiet, its citizens warm but reserved. Visitors are directed shyly to the state cathedrals, where they are questioned about the outside world in return for room and board.
13... Valeswatch, an old fortification turned capitol. When the plague-horde swept from the northern mountains some years ago, the villagers fled to Valeswatch, a keep on the hillside. All else in their province was laid waste, leaving the survivors to rebuild from their new home outward. Valeswatch is a town of hardy folk, who welcome new hands and have a refreshingly forward-facing attitude. 
14... Carce, the city in chains. Carce was annexed by the Empire of Augurs long, long ago. The Empire sent dissidents there alongside murderers and criminals, and walled off the peninsula it sat on when the prisoners rioted and overturned what was left of the local government. Now it is an anarchic and violent place, often called the Land's Great Shame.
15... Llanfaranfal, or Church-in-the-Deep-Valley, is a city clinging to the sides of a fissure in the rolling plains around. Llanfaranfal has a booming trade in mining, with endless tunnels sprawling from it on both sides of the many-bridged chasm. There are whispers in the tunnels of tremors, rumours of violent shakes which could dislodge the settlement.
16... Dioresque, a riverside city reputed far and wide for its decadent art and flawless architecture. It finds itself, however, in the grips of sickness that visits nightly, leaving pale and desiccated victims in its wake.
21... Alvamoor, the Sleepwalkers' City. By day, this city of long, squat buildings is a dreary, if prosperous town. Its wealth is gathered from the vast Cloud-fields to the west, making it a famous hub of commerce. By night, it is a weird and ghostly place while some seventy per cent of its inhabitants wander the streets like restless apparitions, pale and quiet.
22... The Englade, a woodland commune swollen to extreme size. It's largest trees are sky-scraping towers, with houses carved and grown from their trunks. The Englade is a peaceable place, but is governed by a complex social code that forbids any being from harming another. Mealtimes can be a dangerous affair for the unwary visitor.
23... Farrenpit, once a prosperous mining town and now a dangerous city ruled by the various thieves guilds that sprang from the remains of miners' unions when the mines finally ran out of coal. The people of Farrenpit are stoic and uncompromising, and visitors are not always welcome in the sprawling streets.
24... Columnaea, the celestial city. Blessed by the sun gods, Columnaea sits amidst bounty in the largest oasis in the Desert of Varrin. It is widely known for its beautiful, luxurious lifestyle. Less publicised are its people's hateful attitudes to all citizens born at night. Infanticide and a brutal caste system are common to see.
25... Emberhall, the county seat of the Jarl Freddernung. More myth than man, Freddernung has built Emberhall from a minor outpost into a bastion of the Fforden culture. Now that he sickens, the city is torn between which of his thirty six sons should succeed him. Good-natured street brawls are not uncommon.
26... Vander's Gate, a vast sea-port sitting on the Straits of Vain. Vander's Gate is the launching ground for Vain's impressive navy, as well as home to the original palace of the Vainish royalty. The paved and pristine port gives way to rolling farmland further inland. New visitors to the city find it a suspicious and unwelcoming place, but on repeat visits the Gaters are a friendly people.
31... Drakesweir, a hauntingly beautiful city on the coasts of a lake. Mostly unoccupied, Drakesweir is home to only a few hundred souls who live in the whirling spires and domed halls of the once great city. There are many preserved buildings to explore, but looters should beware the silent and deadly seaguard that stalk all visitors.
32... Farth, the windswept city of the Warda Plateau. Farth is isolated, leaving it a small and shrivelled place. Suspicious whispers of the catacombs beneath suggest there is a ruined city lying beneath Farth, still populated by the remains of its inhabitants.
33... Kah-Re-Lah, the sunken city off the coast of Balmorn. Only spoken of in legend, Kah is now a strange palace populated by the descendants of survivors of the cataclysm that sank it. These humans have embraced the ethereal sea-folk that helped them adjust their city to life beneath the waves, and survive through a combination of sea-folk aid and magic of their own.
34... Pharras, the living ruin, home to the oldest civilisation on the Sphere of Evveren. It is a city of vast monuments and labyrinthine streets, every building standing on older still stones. The people are strangely weary, as though the weight of history rests on them themselves.
35... Bendai, the floating city and only inhabited settlement of the Lost Islands. Trading hub for the merchant fleets of the continent, Bendai is a glorious mashup of cannibalised ships and towering platforms. Its people live up to their reputations as pirates and scoundrels, many eschewing the continent for the freedoms of the sea.
36... Carrenbury, cathedral city and rustic dream. Home to romantic poets and ruddy faced farmers alike, Carrenbury is a popular destination for the nations gentry come hunting season. But something dark stirs along the banks of the river, great muddy fish that crawl on land and swallow men whole...
41... Shenton, a tormented city famed for its storms and foul climate. The people are grim and hardy, but friendly in their own way. Superstition abounds, however, and witchhunts are a near yearly occurance targetting any the townsfolk see as a bearer of ill fortune.
42... Avenchester, an industrialised city reaping the benefits of the modern lifestyle. It is smog-choked but cheerful, if one doesnt mention or regard the growing slums and strange tales of men made from smoke...
43... Tentavia, the Library City. So known for its scholars and universities that it was made exempt from the national draft some years ago. Tentavians have a cruel and rude streak, and an often deeply misplaced pride in their home. One can, however, learn of almost anything in Tentavia.
44... Orzoghage, the city lost to limbo. Remembered in myth as a bastion of enlightenment, Orzoghage has become a xenophobic and slavishly dogmatic city. Its inhabitants and cold and withdrawn and its rulers are zealous autocrats. 
45... Endenton, largest of the Downs Settlements that dot the edges of the vast Marrowald forest. Vast social upheavals have left the future of the Downs Settlements uncertain, but Endenton thrives even as merchants caravans are intercepted and farmers revolt- whatever it is that stalks the fringes of the forests is watching over Endenton well.
46... Barrior, the mountain city of the Precursor-Men. With its ancient stone streets leading up to the monolithic True City above, alleged site of the first human civilisation, Barrior is something like a monastery to history grown out of control. The fringes of Barrior jostle with merchants and travellers, but the further to the True City one travels the greater the stillness and respectfulness in the air. 
51... Vyhem, the city-in-the-mountain, built in ages past by men and dwarves. Once the seat of power for a militaristic kingdom, Vyhem has seen a recent surge in intellectual and inventive powers. Now the city is torn between the old traditionalists and the looming shade of modernity.
52... Rivenhall, the great metropolis that stretches over seven rivers as they converge. Rivenhall's military might drove back a great dark army decades ago, and now its people recline in a sense of quiet jubilation.
53... Pansierre, the towering capitol of the Glittering Coast, home to the Pale Knights. In Pansierre, and the Coast as a whole, magic is outlawed. The Pale Knights hunt and kill magicians of all ilk in the name of reality's stability. Pansierre is also known for its fragrant spices and seafood, and the jubilant culture of dance that the settlers from the Southern Archipelago brought with them.
54... Pon-Precia, central hub of the great flat Sphere of Precia. The fashion in Pon is surreal and ever-changing, based on a religious edict that determines the current material meaning of good. This week, "good" may be not speaking aloud, or perhaps its wearing as many colours as one may at once. Society is fickle and shallow, and the people secretly miserable as a result.
55... Amdenford, city of shacks. Erected by refugees from the Balantine Conflicts, no one expected the shack city to last for more than a year, due in part to its shoddy construction and in part to the volatile mix of transient inhabitants. The shack city is neither peaceful nor luxurious, but its been there for the better part of a century now and the inhabitants have become curiously proud of it.
56... Callass, the cliff markets. Between the steep cliffs of the shattered archipelago, thick rope bridges suspend bird-cage houses. In the caves set into the sheer faces of rock, shopfronts and churches have been hewn from the stone. Larger ships dock just beyond the weird, high walled canals, sending small craft in to parley and trade.
61... Irifice, the city of spires. Stretches so high that it passes between the worlds themselves, making it less one city and more a set of instances of one city, connected by myriad doorways hidden around the oldest towers.
62... Fomalia, Steppes Edge. A city of cruel and barbaric people, made hard by the barren steppes. Fomalia's principle worship is the current Dragon, their chief warlord and leader. Strangers are treated well if they are too formidable a threat to kill and rob, otherwise they are... well, killed and robbed.
63... Endrington, city for the privileged. With the dissolution of crown rule two decades ago, Endrington formed its own senate of the wealthy and influential. Now laughably corrupt, the city is the destination for the rich and immoral, where any perverse tastes can be exercised. The gothic buildings darken in shade, and the parlor rooms and halls are dens of debauchery. 

64... Caraccia, the sun-soaked city of vice. Known largely for its fine wine and the inhabitants penchant for elaborate duels. The city is large, but spread out in the extreme- with landscaped parks and vast vineyards, many mistake the whole for a scattering of smaller towns. 
65... Taronn, last palace of the Valkyrie. Taronn is an incredible domed city overlooking the dark salt-flats on one side and the lush, jungled valleys between mountains on the other. Centuries ago Taronn was established by rogue Valkyries fleeing from a higher plane, and it has settled through those years into a strict but fair matriarchy. Men are welcome in the city, but may not own property- it is said that the original settlers were cast out by a churlish male ruler, and will never allow such a situation to arise again.
66... Saah, Lost Celestial City. Hidden in a mountainous region, Saah is spoken of in religious tracts all over the continent, but widely considered myth. The streets are paved with carved tablets, and the buildings hung with charms and symbols against evil. No spell can scry into or out of the city: no magics can teleport inhabitants away. Saah is ruled by a council of the wisest philosophers through the lands surrounding, an ever growing senate of knowledge, since no inhabitant of Saah ages. Any who find their way to Saah can claim citizenship.

Tuesday, 3 April 2018


I've been playing around with a table of injuries for my campaign. I'm aiming here to create some sort of... not realism per say, but life-like lasting damage. In Troika! eating a ration heals stamina. While its not meant to be a super realistic system, that to me marks stamina as something other than just a health bar in a video game. I feel like stamina is more the will to continue, the ability to keep dodging blows and getting back up. I assume at lower stamina players have a bunch of cuts and bruises, perhaps- but all things that will naturally heal with rest and time. The table below then, is for when things get dicey...
When a player reaches 0 stamina, then, they get hit deeply. For every successful strike after 0 stamina, no damage is taken but the player rolls again on this table. There's still insta-death here, but there's also the chance of survival.. weighed against the possibility of becoming dead weight to the party, far from safety. All of the results below will naturally require graphic narration of the blood and guts, and it's also possible that if a player with even only a minor penalty incurred via, say, a -1 blow to the arm, could suffer further consequences if they overdo it with that limb. These are just a working table! I'll be playing with it, and perhaps updating it to reflect changes as I go. If you find the balance is out for you, please feel free to change it yourself or let me know how you find it!

D66 Table- Roll 2d6!

11. Head- A skull-splitting, life-ending strike!
12. Head- A brutal connect that knocks you unconcious for 1d6 hours!
13. Head- The blow sends you reeling, leaving you dazed for 1d6 rounds (-3 penalty to all rolls)
14. Head- The blow sends you reeling, leaving you rattled for 1d6 rounds (-2 penalty to all rolls)
15.Head- The blow sends you reeling, leaving you sore for 1d6 rounds (-1 penalty to all rolls)
16. Head- The blow is harsh, but only superficial. No further ill-effect, except a gnarly scar.
21.Trunk- a cruel strike that knocks the life out of you! You have 1d6 rounds to be stabilised by magic or mundane healing, but even then you'll need serious medical attention to survive (save versus death every 1d3 minutes until you've recovered 2d6 stamina through magic or healing applications AND you're in positive Stamina. Even then, you're considered to be at 1 Stamina and pretty much disabled as far as physical activity goes for another 2d6 days)
22. Trunk- a severe wound is opened up, giving you -3 to all rolls. If this wound isn't patched up satisfactorily in 1d3 hours, or if you take another wound, it develops into entry 21- see above
23. Trunk - a nasty wound sets you on your rear- you are rattled and bloodied for 1d6 rounds, taking -3 to all rolls.
24. Trunk - a harsh wound knocks you aside, leaving you dazed and bloodied for 1d6 rounds, taking -2 to all rolls.
25. Trunk- a bad wound gives you reason to gasp, leaving you staggered and bloodied for 1d6 round, taking -1 to all rolls.
26. Trunk- the wound looks cruel, but it's largely superficial- gnarly scar for you!
31. R. Arm- deep wound or broken bone- this arm is either severed off clean or so badly damaged as to be useless and in need of amputation. The bloodloss is such that you could die if it's not looked at pretty swiftly.
32. R. Arm- deep wound or broken bone- the arm is useless for at least 1d6 days, and will have a -2 penalty for 1d6 weeks after that.
33. R. Arm- a rough blow numbs your arm, giving you -3 on rolls that need it for 1d6 rounds
34. R. Arm- a rough blow numbs your arm, giving you -2 on rolls that need it for 1d6 rounds
35. R. Arm- a rough blow numbs your arm, giving you -1 on rolls that need it for 1d6 rounds
36. R. Arm- a nasty, but superficial blow- you get a gnarly scar
41. L. Arm- deep wound or broken bone- this arm is either severed off clean or so badly damaged as to be useless and in need of amputation. The bloodloss is such that you could die if it's not looked at pretty swiftly.
42. L. Arm- deep wound or broken bone- the arm is useless for at least 1d6 days, and will have a -2 penalty for 1d6 weeks after that.
43. L. Arm- a rough blow numbs your arm, giving you -3 on rolls that need it for 1d6 rounds
44. L. Arm- a rough blow numbs your arm, giving you -2 on rolls that need it for 1d6 rounds
45. L. Arm- a rough blow numbs your arm, giving you -1 on rolls that need it for 1d6 rounds
46. L. Arm- a nasty, but superficial blow- you get a gnarly scar
51. R. Leg- deep wound or broken bone- this leg is either severed off clean or so badly damaged as to be useless and in need of amputation. The bloodloss is such that you could die if it's not looked at pretty swiftly.
52. R. Leg- deep wound or broken bone- the leg is useless for at least 1d6 days, and will have a -2 penalty for 1d6 weeks after that.
53. R. Leg- a rough blow numbs your leg, giving you -3 on rolls that need it for 1d6 rounds
54. R. Leg- a rough blow numbs your leg, giving you -2 on rolls that need it for 1d6 rounds
55. R. Leg- a rough blow numbs your leg, giving you -1 on rolls that need it for 1d6 rounds.
56. R. Leg- a nasty but superficial blow- you get a gnarly scar
61. L. Leg- Deep wound or broken bone- this leg is either severed off clean or so badly damaged as to be useless and in need of amputation. The bloodloss is such that you could die if it's not looked at pretty swiftly.
62. L. Leg- deep wound or broken bone- the leg is useless for at least 1d6 days, and will have a -2 penalty for 1d6 weeks after that.
63. L. Leg- a rough blow numbs your leg, giving you -3 on rolls that need it for 1d6 rounds
64. L. Leg- a rough blow numbs your leg, giving you -2 on rolls that need it for 1d6 rounds
65. L. Leg- a rough blow numbs your leg, giving you -1 on rolls that need it for 1d6 rounds.
66. L. Leg- a nasty but superficial blow- you get a gnarly scar

Sunday, 18 March 2018

Sicknesses Slinking from Strange Directions

I am returned, from a long absence inflicted by a change of address and many, many hours of work. In the interim I've been incubating some bizarre sicknesses, contracted no doubt in one of the damp, fetid caverns at the very distant back-end of my brain.

I've never been a huge fan of super-realistic diseases in roleplaying games: I think the aversion stems from a particularly traumatic episode as an early player, watching my beloved character slowly succumb to some particularly depraved invention. That said, I would be troubled to see them totally absent from a setting- even if they are generally only represented by ability score penalties and perhaps an inhibited recovery from damage. And, well, where there are standard diseases there should be some really weird ones, too.

Dwarven Diamante-Rash
It's said that this disease is native to the very depths of the deepest dwarven mines, where much toil and labour is expended carving materials long believed to be the stuff of myth and legend from the crude bedrock beneath the mountains. The traditionally stoic dwarven approach to sickness, weakness and medicine meant that few outside these ancient mines and their accompanying citadels ever heard of the Diamante-Rash until trading routes with the nearby petty kingdoms of humans were established. The humans, with their much lower standards of hygiene and much less robust immune systems, were a perfect host for the rash.
The Diamante-Rash first manifests as an itch in one particular spot. Eventually, the skin there will blister and split, blossoming into a gaudy but materially worthless gemstone. For 2d6 days after infection this process will repeat as the rash spreads over the body. After this period is done the afflicted individual enters the infective stage of the disease, with the gemstones slowly losing their lustre and shine even as the host begins to sneeze dry and uncomfortable bursts of glitter for 1d3 days. This glitter is the pathogen for fresh infection in new hosts.

During the infective stage treatment may be sought for the affliction. A successful save against disease means that the infection ends with the final glittery outburst and the host is left immune for 2d6 weeks, with advantage on this save given for those who maintain good hygiene throughout and a further advantage for those who seek medical attention to this end. The initial blisters begin to flake away harmlessly when infection has ended. If the save is failed more of the gemstones will begin to appear for another 2d6 days, and the cycle continues on.

The disease is not itself directly fatal, but it will begin to impair movement after successive infections since, while the disease is active in one's system, the gemstones remain very hard. For every six days that new diamantes are actively growing the afflicted takes an accumulated -1 penalty to all skill checks involving fine dexterity. When this penalty reaches -5 movement is impaired. With long term exposure, the ability to eat will likely be impaired. Dwarves that were infected with the Diamante-Rash and then trapped in the mines due to cave-ins are often discover many years later as bizarre sculpture-like memories of themselves.

Dwarven Diamante-Rash is caught either from an individual in the infective stage of the infection themselves, or from mysterious secretions of the glitter-pathogen that can sometimes be found on the walls of deep, deep cave systems. This glitter-pathogen has been used to great effect in the mischievous traps and pranks arranged by alchemist apprentices.

The Gull-Sickness
Weird plagues crop up all along the Coaster-towns every year, washing in with the heavy tides to pepper the poor hardy-folk with ailments as summer comes to a damp conclusion and freezing out with deep winter. By the account of near every grumpy inn-patron and harbour-hand, the worst in living memory was the Gull-Sickness. This freakish affliction that swept away hundreds and hundreds of lives over a good few years of virulence is still reported by the sailors who venture out to the rocky islets between the Yammerstills and the Ice Cities.

The Gull-Sickness appears at first to be a sort of stomach bug, inducing nausea in the afflicted and affecting balance for 1d6 days. The sufferer would complain of an upset stomach, perhaps, or a fluttering chest. At this stage, treatments are often administered with some success- quelling the vomitting, settling the stomach. Regardless of the treatment, the afflicted suffers a strange lack of focus, struggling to maintain concentration on matters important and tending to distraction, staring at odd objects or into the middle distance- this is reflected in a small penalty to initiative. After the initial sickness passes or is treated, the afflicted experiences 1d3 days of relieved symptoms and mostly-returned focus, albeit with a growing and insatiable hunger. The afflicted requires double the usual rations to feel the benefits of a meal. After these last days, the sickness enters its true phase.

The hunger that was an inconvenience before becomes all-consuming now. For 1d3 days the afflicted must make a save to avoid eating anything that looks reasonably edible. For 1d3 days after that the afflicted must make a save to avoid eating anything that is a texture roughly equivalent to common foods. For the next 1d3 days they must be physically restrained from shovelling anything they can physically masticate and swallow down their throat. The sickness does not compel the afflicted to eat living things- only inanimate matter seems to flag as "food" to their fevered mind.

The Gull-Sickness is so named because the sufferers in their latter stages appear as voraciously hungry and non-discerning as the muddy-white seagulls of the coast. Physicians of all manner up and down the settlements have treated the Gull-Sickness with very limited success, supposing it to be some taint affecting a meal eaten that causes the illness. Really the illness is of a memetic nature- it is a learned behaviour with a mind all of its own, meaning that merely observing one in the throes of the final stage is enough to potentially infect a new host, with a save versus mental compulsion. The real danger of Gull-Sickness, of course, comes from the various substances eaten while in the state of frenzy, since the illness offers no improved constitution. Saves against the toxicity of various substances should be made at the GMs discretion to avoid harmful side-effects. Should a failed save result in vomitting, it is cheerfully noted that vomit is most definitely often reasonably edible-looking. Many a sailor of the Coaster-towns drowned after to trying to cram back in an ill-thought meal he had already once lost.

Monday, 5 February 2018

Home-made Origins

These are 7 backgrounds I wrote up for using in Troika last autumn. Why 7, you ask? Because I like to produce awkward and odd numbers of things, so they're more difficult to incorporate into a background table.

1 Homesick Deity
You were once lord or lady of all you surveyed: a god embodying one or more of the natural forces of your world and revered by the mortal inhabitants. When your world withered and died on some unfortunate alignment of the spheres, you were fortunate enough to come unstuck and survived. You are certainly a shadow of your former self, but then you were literally a divine incarnation before so perhaps you should be happy with what you’re left with, eh? You are, of course, still a little hung-up about the homeworld. That’s understandable.

- A badly damaged but still functionally excellent weapon of your choice, granting +1 to attacks made with it.
- A drinking horn with 4 gulps of Ambroise and Nectar in it (each drink counts as a provision that also restores 1 Luck) OR a rather gaudy set of statuettes depicting you and your other playmates on the pantheon.

1 Astrology
2 Second Sight
2 Weapon Fighting with the weapon of your choice
2 Spell – Random (Table 5, Troika!)
2 Spell – Animate

Being without your home turf advantage may have severely lessened your divine abilities, but you are still very much above the norm. You aren’t immortal or omniscient anymore, but once per day you can spend a luck point to impose your divinity on your surroundings. This might involve commanding an unusually recalcitrant object nearby to behave (and having it listen), or impressing the mortal proles. Said proles may test their luck against being compelled to worship you for at least 1d6 days. And who knows, perhaps they’ll end up liking your church better than their old one.

2 Caped Crusader
You were chasing your nemesis from Metroville City after what must have been your hundredth high-powered punch up in the downtown area. This time, however, with an evil cackle he opened some sort of aperture in front of you, which you flew straight into like the great big do-gooding doofus that you are. Now you’re adrift on the cosmic currents, and trying to adapt to a life without the precious city you swore to protect. Best not to worry too much about whatever it is your nemesis is doing in your absence.

- A very gaudy, skin tight costume complete with cape.
- A communication device for the League of Heroic Chums, which has picked up only static since you passed through the portal.

4 Fly
4 Strength
3 Fist Fighting
1 Awareness
1 Disguise

You don’t wear armour, but you have a mild invulnerability to harm. You count as Heavily Armoured, without the associated encumbrance. Additionally you must roll 1d6 to determine your secret and mortal weakness: 1 - a kind of shiny space-rock chemically similar to your homeworld; 2 - anything that’s a particular shade of green; 3 - plasmic core fumes; 4 -  sour dairy products, including cheese and off-milk; 5 - light produced from a magical source; 6 - nuts. Whenever the subject of your secret and mortal weakness is brought near to you, you lose 2 points of skill until it is removed, and lose a point of stamina every round (or every few seconds) it is near.

3 Broker Envoy
There are a number of powerful forces in the multiverse, and a number of conflicts, checks and balances that exist between them. Your magical powers and abilities were bartered and cajoled from greater beings by acting as a diplomat, negotiator and broker between them. You consider yourself as a specialist agent of the cosmic balance, having survived encounters with strange and mercurial forces of the cosmos. Others more likely consider you a wheedling con-man, try-hard, or brown-noser.  

- 1d6 sigil-badges, the first your personal crest and each other representative of a patron or specialist subject.
- Diplomats robe and cloak, subtly padded out. Lightly Armoured.
- Impressive-looking staff
- Tea set for impromptu summits

1 Astrology
1 Second Sight
1 Awareness
1 Evaluate
1 Staff Fighting
2 Etiquette
2 Spell – Random
2 Spell – Random

4 Wizard Tower Thief
You grew up with ambitions for a career in sorcery, but unfortunately you also grew up without demonstrating a single iota of magical talent. Working initially on the premise that if you can’t have it, no one can, you set about pilfering interesting magical lore and spellbooks. You have worked out by now the fundamentals of eking out the residual magic in objects taken from spellcasters, but refinement is a long way off.

- Burglars outfit with deceptively deep pockets, giving an additional 2 inventory slots that can be used without incurring weight penalties.
- Climbing gear, for those damnable tall bookshelves.
- 2d6 random magical nicknacks and spell scrolls you have recently liberated from an uncaring home.

4 Awareness
4 Evaluate
2 Sneak
2 Locks
2 Trapping
2 Activate Magic Spells

You may use your skill Activate Magic Spells to use up a written spell as found in a wizard's spellbook, scroll or magic item. You can still use items with magic abilities as normal, but if for whatever reason it isn’t working, you can jimmy some sort of dramatic reaction out of it with a little fiddling and persistence. Whenever you use an item this way, roll 1d6. On a 1, it explodes and deals you 1d3 damage. On a 2, 3, 4 or 5 it’s magical residue is used up without any fireworks, rendering it inert. On a 6 it still has a little juice left in it, and is usable again.

5 Chapter Knight of the Grand Sanctum
As a child barely old enough to read you were dropped into the greatest library in the million spheres, trained as a powerful protector and charged with guarding and curating one of the many areas that intersect with another world. Of course, these days literacy rates are very low and interest in the public services wanes. You have left your post (or else been laid off amidst huge cuts) and set out to discover if there really is anything more to the world than your dusty tomes.

- An enchanted sword, providing +2 damage against those with late fees.
- A quick cheat sheet on the Grand Sanctum’s rather complicated index system.
- A suit of librarian’s Tweed-mail, thickly woven Modest Armour.

2 Sword Fighting
2 Sneak
1 Astrology
1 Organize

6 Undercity Denizen
You had a life now long forgotten as a mundane mortal in one of the many metropolises on the material plane. But you slipped through the cracks, faded from the street level, and the bleak otherworld of the undercity caught you in its grasp. Now you walk the spaces unseen and deal in circles which only the truly certifiable can deal, like a particularly pungent shaman of the city.

- A bag of assorted tribble and rubbish wrapped fast to a stout length of wood
- An unkempt and ragged outfit that manages somehow to express an air of nobility while simultaneously dirtying the actual air with a mysterious but powerful odour.

2 Fist Fighting
4 Awareness
4 Second Sight
2 Spell - Astral Reach
2 Spell - Illusion
2 Spell - Random

Since to any common passerby you appear to be nothing more than a crazy homeless person you have 4 Sneak when in Urban areas, while all the well to do citizens of the City Above desperately avoid making eye contact with you. Doesn’t apply to others awakened to the Undercity.

7 Feeble-pit Survivor
Maybe because you were too pretty or charming or just plain unfortunate, you were taken by the royal guard one night and for weeks, months or possibly even years you survived the expansive and diabolical dungeon of Feeble Ezra, the Crown Prince of Philomere. It took some skill but you’ll be the first to admit that you only really got by on tightly-wound paranoia and sheer dumb luck. Eventually a newly-placed magical trap misfired and teleported you away, but honestly you aren’t yet wholly sure that this isn’t all some further dastardly trap by the Feeble Prince.

- Manacles and a length of chain
- Ragged and soiled prisoners clothes
- An expertly crafted shiv

4 Trapping
4 Awareness
4 Run
2 Stealth

You are so fuelled by neurotic terror that you’ve become desensitised to the horrors of the world. You don’t spend a luck point when testing against fear related effects. Of course, if you ever manage to chill out again this bonus is lost.

Wednesday, 10 January 2018

Myths & Rituals

The Homebrew rules below are intended to work with Troika! or AFF, since they deal with the Luck stat. If you're not playing with those rules I'd recommend switching out Luck for either a suitable Magic score or a saving throw that is appropriate. 

We start already with a big world: you flesh it out and pore over the details and develop it into the grandiose epic you know it ought to be. This shouldn't reduce the mystery, though. Just as soon as you've established rules, you should showcase those things that run counter to them- things that would be called exceptions if it weren't so that they are myriad, vastly outnumbering you in any of the wild spaces that exist beyond the little bubble you were so comfortable in.

This is the sort of game I like to run, play, or just idly daydream in or about. My posts have had a bit of a gap recently, and one of the main things stewing in the interim has been myth and ritual, and more specifically how to get the quality of those things across in-game. The character I use in my ever-to-be unfinished short fiction is driven to know more about the gods, goddesses and otherworldly forces that drive things behind the scenes- it is only natural, then, that I try to bash out some broadly corresponding rules.

I've been reading a lot about myths and dreams, and one of the notions that comes up again and again in the Jungian-derivative essays and various chaos-magician writers' works is that a ritual is a kind of theatre, acting out myth-themes to please or entice some supernatural being or force. I like this idea of ritual or myth as a narrative, some pattern which a given being is almost compelled to interact with.

Qualities for Otherworld Denizens

The sphinx is powerless to resist riddling any intelligent being she would eat. The god of thunder is drawn like a moth to a flame to any amorous activity that resembles his raunchier conquests. A summoned devil abides by a certain code of conduct- providing the summoner remembers to follow suit. These rules are not enforced by the physics of the universe or the mechanics of magic, they are the entity itself's weakness to the very fabric of their reality- narratives. A creature of this kind would have the quality Addicted to Narrative.

The dignitary from Faerie is easily coerced by bargains and trades. The High Priest of Banzion will always find himself inclined to excess and waste. A sorcerer with infernal blood finds herself absorbed by scenes of suffering. These creatures, through relation or extended interaction with supernatural forces and places, have taken on something of those forces qualities. They have gained the quality Susceptible to Narrative. 

The quality Addicted to Narrative is really reserved for NPCs, or perhaps as a temporary curse on a player, since it limits agency in the game. Susceptible to Narrative is a more fitting quality for a player character, offering rewards and drawbacks for certain actions performed or avoided. When a character encounters a scene playing out that the GM determines to be a narrative they are susceptible to, they can choose to resist or give in to the urge. Resisting requires Testing their Luck. Giving in will reward them with a Luck point.

What do you think? Is this stuff better just roleplayed, or is a bit of a guideline rule helpful?

Wednesday, 22 November 2017

Magic by the Milithaum

Magic is a bit of a problem for me.

Not in that I struggle to personally cast spells and work enchantments myself: you misunderstand, I am in fact a very competent wizard. Probably one of the most competent wizards you know. No, magic is a problem for me in that when I sit down to play RPGs, or even just to daydream and plan for RPGs, I don't know where to put magic. I want magic that abides by laws, has its own internal physics. I also want magic that is fantastical, and holds a real sense of wonder.

I think that's what draws me again and again to games and stories that hop between worlds. In my headcanon for any fantasy that covers a multiverse, magic is a refraction of ones' will through the lens that is reality itself- it is the focusing of the otherdimensional potentials that exist all around us, invisibly. Sometimes, I want there to be an implication that other parallel worlds are touched by our actions. Other times I want to be able to hurl fireballs without constant angsting about other worlds.

At the moment, what I want more than anything is a system that supports the stories I've been daydreaming about for over a decade in one form or another. I want a system that lets me and my friends play in the universe I already know better than any campaign setting. I think I found that system in Troika!, and now I'm just tinkering to stretch it around every concept I want it to cuddle.
So magic, now, is something I want to be big and broad and paradoxical. I like the spells in Troika: I like that they drain stamina to cast. Magic should have a cost. But as pointed out on the G+ once, this narrative-honest magic is pretty harsh in combat situations. It has a steep cost and a pretty low chance to do much against, say, the more traditional method of hitting things.

My current tinkering is in the direction of YSMV: your Sphere may vary. The world your on may have its own way of doing things. In Snowcastles by Duncan McGeary the magicians can only use their magic in service of another. They are given a token payment which they retain while in service, and they give that back later. They can use magic out of service, but its described as being hard to do without a force of will and spending of power. That sounds to me a lot like Troika's stamina-cost is the standard way, but in this world there exists a sort of pact ritual that gives reprieve.

Then there's magic items. I have a system for magic items at the moment in Troika. Each item has a pool of energy, replacement stamina points that the item draws on instead of your own. Each item also has a spell or two that it "knows", that it can cast. Different items will react differently to using up their energy- maybe a scroll crumbles, the ink fades. Maybe the clay rod collapses and dries out. The silver sword of smiting will recharge though, one point of stamina for every hour of meditation.
This system also allows for items that just store stamina. Maybe you have to sacrifice stamina today to fill it up for tomorrow. Maybe you need to feed it the stamina of innocent victims by night!

I don't know, these are just ideas. Let me know what you think!

Wednesday, 15 November 2017

Lost in a Shop

The Reliquary, Antiques and Rarities

This is a randomly generated
dungeon-type shop to explore in Daniel Sell's Troika!, which I heartily recommend to anyone and everyone.

The Reliquary is a sprawling set of rooms in Irifice, hidden behind a relatively tidy shopfront off the marketplace which serves as its entrance. The full shop is vast, with many more floors and rooms than any customer is likely to see.

The owner is one Mister Tasmund, a dirty-looking old man with long and unkempt hair that matches his scraggly beard. Tasmund is a native of the sphere Daldria, and grew up on the bleak and muddy Coasts. Worlds away from there now, people say he's like a tiny piece of that provincial and crude lifestyle brought into the urbane streets of Irifice.

Tasmund is in an ongoing back-and-fro feud with the Irifician Constabulary, who suspect his shop is in breach of the City-Limits Interplanar Expansions Act, a law which forbids the use of extra-spacial spaces and large pocket dimensions within the bounds of Irifice. The truth is, he is very much in breach.

The Reliquary specialises in second hand rarities and lost objects. There is a chance players can find almost anything in the many storerooms and packed-full corridors, both good and bad.

Use the table below to generate the players route through The Reliquary. The place exists across several spheres using extradimensional magic and there may be numerous similar but slightly different rooms, so don't worry about duplicates or maps- just mark down a flowchart style list of where you've been already so that players can retrace their steps if they want to. The Reliquary makes a great place to explore for a specific item need, or to hide from people chasing them in the city outside.

There's a table at the bottom of the page with some plot hooks or missions.

Rooms in The Reliquary 
Roll 1d3 and 2d6 for the room, and 1d3 for the number of doors leading from it. For any dalliances, loud accidents or other mishaps roll the Monster table to see who is nearby.
The Players find...
111. ... a comfortable living room arrangement, safe to rest in.

112. ... a room full of fancy dress clothes.

113. ... a gang of Reliquary Goblins, arguing over a mannequin in a long bare corridor.
114. ... a ghastly looking set of mummies, all stripped of valuables.
115. ... a long chain of narrow passages, with occasional alcoves full of fancy candles.
116. ... a whole hall of damaged furniture.
121. ... a selection of tools, most useless but 1d6 masterwork.
122. ... a low ceiling room of alchemical goods, many filled with a thick brown tar.
123. ... a walk-in wardrobe, bigger on the inside and full of furs. 1 in 6 chance that a fur coat animates and attacks the party. 

124. ... a monstrous collection of coins from the multiverse over, stacked in chests over three small rooms. This room essentially functions as a bureau de change, albeit with ever-terrible exchanhe rates.
125. ... a range of pottery from one specific artist. 1 in 12 chance that his cursed magnum opus, a plate that shows his own death, is in the collection.
126. ... a room full of old mattresses. 1d6 sleeping undead accidentally brought in with them are lurking in the mattresses, ready to tear free and moan at anyone who disturbed their slumber.
131. ... a long, long staircase leading to a dead end. All sorts of poor quality local history books from throughout the multiverse stacked precariously on the stairs.
132. ... a room full of books, with an infestation of 2d6 library wyrms wriggling beneath the oldest, dustiest layer. 

133. ... a rickety-looking wooden with a suspicious lack of clutter. Only one door on the far side of the room exists. Test Luck on any impact or collision or the floor will break through, landing you in any of the 14- rooms.
134. ... a  cramped corridor with windows looking out on an impossible vista.
135. ... rows and rows of bookshelves all containing nonsense notes. 1d6 chance of a spell scroll.
136. ... a long hall of culinary equipment laid out on banquet tables. At least 1d6 dried provisions still edible in the jars.
141. ... a cellar with many old barrels of paints and varnishes. There is a parchment witch perusing one barrel in particular.
142. ... a natural looking cave in which some industrious goblin has piled heaps and heaps of unsellable clothes. There is a flight of stairs leading out.
143. ... a repurposed tomb now full of tat from the tourist markets of many, many cities. 1 in 3 chance a ghost comes to moan at you.
144. ... a cellar full of torture devices. At least one still has a lootable corpse inside.
145. ... a rough-hewn stone room full of dwarven art objects, heaped together in a fashion that exhibits no understanding of their meaning or intent. 1 in 3 chance that one art object is animate and also deadly.
146.  ... a cellar room full of empy treasure chests. 1 in 6 chance that the one a player is checking is a mimic.
151. ... a wooden room of gardening equipment with two arguing Reliquary Goblins, disagreeing about the proper organisation of the shears.
152. ... a rooftop terrace that is definitely not in Irifice, full of dying exotic plants. 1 in 3 chance that one is sentient and asks for help.
153. ... an archive room full of old maps. Test Your Luck or search to find a map of the Reliquary. There can be 2d6 of these in the room, and for each roll d3 and d6- the map gives info of each room with those first two digits. If such a room is wanted, roll d6 to see how many rooms away it is and continue as normal.
154. ... a set of low corridors, crudely closed off with wooden planks and a sign warning that there's a goblin labyrinth incursion here. 2d6 gremlins in evidence, and any loud noises will summon forth 2d6 goblins from the closed off tunnel- and not the mild mannered Reliquary kind.
155. ... a conch shaped room with various battered musical instruments in it. 1 in 6 chance that a bard is in here, lost and afraid and seeking solace in a battered lute.
156. ... a room strongly resembling a toilet but too full of porcelain dolls for it to be truly ascertained. 1 in 6 chance that theres a talking doll in here, a weird construct that parrots phrases back at people.
161. ... a library room full of childrens picture books, which are excellent resources for myths and legends. A successful awareness test will reveal ladders hidden against the walls which provide access to a roof garden and possible exit onto another sphere.
162. ... a room with huge, broken windows which look out onto an unkempt garden.  There are no objects heaped in here, just a sense of dilapidation. Possible exit.
163. ... a tiny annex room of old magazines. 1 in 6 chance on any loud noises that a hatch in the ceiling will open and a bewildered old couple on a fairly backwards sphere are calling the local constabulary.
164. ... a run down old shack full of amulets and charms. The walls can be broken quite easily, and lead out to a strange little black sand beach.
165. ... an attic room full of wedding dresses. There is a hidden trap door leading down through a mansion in the sphere of Neverwood.
166. ... a draughty hallway leading to a heavy door chained and locked with three padlocks. The hallway is made narrow by tens on tens of strange mannequins, 1d6 of which are Figment apparitions from the Silken Realm, dormant only for a lack of psychic energy.
211. ... a vaulted room heaped with clutter, with wooden scaffolds erected to hold a huge taxidermied woodwyrm over the rest of the junk.
212. ... a musty room filled with precarious piles of books. The doorways from it are ornate, cathedral-styled and with gargoyles looking over them.
213. ... a round room full of empty cages, with a hanging chain in the centre holding all the keys.
214. ... a big room, bigger than any room has a right to be. It is lit by glowing panels in the tiled ceiling and is peppered with desks and stationary. Any doors are at the very far end of the room, where there are also a few heaps of garden gnome decorations.
215. ... a low room full of hanging drapes and folded sheets, like a dusty and musty version of a concubine harem.
216. ... a room with too many clocks. 1 in 6 chance that they begin chiming in sequence and attract an encounter.
221. ... a staircase down to a squat little room jam packed with empty bottles.
222. ... a strangely tidy room with a few drawers of fine clothes and a few cases of jewellry. There is an additional hidden door in here which leads to Tasmund's backroom, where a pipe and dirty mug rest stale on a battered table full of maps of the shop's various floors.
223. ... a grand staircase, with various bits of furniture pinned with price tags laid uneasily. Any mishap might cause a devastating furniture-slide.
224. ... a cold stone room full of scrap metal. There's probably a salvageable suit of armour in here for the desperate.
225. ... a room with a red lantern hanging. There are heaps of unfortunately stained sketches and lithographs of naked people in various poses, as well as a shelf full of smutty paperbacks.
226. ... a wine cellar full of antique and nonfunctional pistolets and fusils.
231. ... a narrow set of wooden stairs over a small space full of taxidermied animals. The landing above has an animal-gnawed skeleton laid out on it.
232. ... a cramped room where the Reliquary Goblins repair damaged goods. Currently a dusty purgatory for the piles of torn dresses, cracked bowls and headless dolls that surround the handful of sewing machines and messy piles of tools. Goblins hate repairing things.
233. ... a room full of crates, which when pried open contain empty plasmic cores. 1 in 6 chance of finding a full core in there.
234. ... a room full of boxes and boxes of pressed and preserved leaves. There is a weird smell in the place that will cause audiovisual hallucinations after too long is spent in here.
235. ... a staircase down into a pit or trench that has one or two sets of soiled clothes scattered around. There are stairs up and out to another room.
236. ... a circular room with a domed ceiling covered in grand murals depicting the gods of Irifice seeing off the demons of Before. The room is filled with artworks, mostly cheap replicas and damaged knockoffs.
241. ... a squat room filled with various ceremonial items. Many usable knives, many decent maces. 1 in 6 chance of there being a magic sceptre to find.
242. ... a long hall divided into narrow passages by many bookshelves. Some have tomes filling the shelves, but one or two are stocked with animal skulls.
243. ... a room filled with ornate decorative weapons to be hung on a wall. All -1 to use, but they look pretty.
244. ... a grim little space full of sad looking toys.
245. ... a room whose doors are all locked, except for the one you came in though, which is broken. It looks to have served as Tasmund's office once, and has a shrine to his god Taldun the Ringbear, patron of lost fashions, collections and antiquities.
246. ... a room filled with statuettes and full statues. One has eyes that move, and is clearly a petrified person.
251. ... a room full of benches, so many that they are not comfortable to sit on.
252. ... a room of scientific equipment such as astrological devices and multi-lens lorgnettes. Most are cheap or damaged, but some could be good.
253. ... a room like a boarded up shopfront, packed with old smoking pipes and pocket knives, and jars and jars of stale tea leaves and tobacco. Cabinets have been squeezed into the walkways and overfilled, making it difficult to navigate in a hurry.

254. ... another furniture room, this time with more cots than beds and more prams than chairs.
255. ... a room of wooden carvings from various artists and cultures. Spellcraft checks will show that one is a mutilated dryad, crafted into a most wicked staff for black magics.
256. ... a room full of lamps, lanterns and candles. There are a handful of mirrors against one wall, which anyone acquainted with magic may check to recognise as being an arrangment often used for mirror-travelling between spheres.
261. ... a room with an intermittent drip and serious damp problem. There were once heaps of books but now they are ruined. 1 in 6 chance of an Ooze crawling from beneath a table and attacking the interlopers.
262. ... a corridor only sparsely scattered with cabinets of tat, with one additional door off of it- it is heavily fortified and locked. If it is pried open, it reveals a long chamber of safeboxes, each locked and full of silver pennies and gold pieces. Tasmund has magical alarms in the room- if any gold is taken he will catch up to the players in 2d3 rooms.
263. ... a room full of unfinished things and offcuts of fine wood. Legless chairs, frames for little structures, heaps of parts.
264. ... a hallway with a full wall of shelving on one side, full of tea sets. If something is knocked off there's a 1 in 6 chance it contained an angry wyrd or spirit, trapped by the teapots last owner.
265. ... a small room with a table and chairs. The table is full of fake house plants. There is a 1 in 6 chance that there's a mobile baby treant in among them.
266. ... a room full of inert golems and constructs, now sold for scrap and parts. 1 in 6 chance of one animating again. 1 in 3 chance of that happening when someone uses magic.
311. ... a high ceilinged room full of hymnbooks and religions icons. A successful search check will turn up useful symbols for all but the most shaded and secretive faiths.

312. ... a room full of glass bottles: wine bottles, alchemist's bottles, potion bottles and oil bottles. Bottles of every shape and size, for all your bottle needs. They are stacked rather precariously, on very tall and wobbly shelves.
313. ... a small cluster of what appear to be repurposed jail cells, with bunks and clutter. It may look like a storage space but it's actually where some of the Reliquary Goblins sleep. 1 in 3 chance you disturb one of them.
314. ... a marble-floored room showcasing a collection of rugs.
315. ... an octagonal room that seems to contain the contents of several wizards' towers. Most of the useful stuff has been rooted out but a successful check might turn up something. For anyone really delving into the pile there's a 1 in 6 chance that some magical defence has been left armed.
316. ... a room full of old chinaware from the very collectable Tamsa Forrage studio. Garish and tatty, but shatters wonderfully to deal damage as a +1 thrown dagger.
321. ... a wooden panelled room of hunting memorabilia. There are many, many cloaks and sashes that are in the high fashion of Feeble Ezra's court.
322. ... a tight room with many little desks and drawers. For the most part it is full of artists' assitants' copywork materials, but there is a stash of very fancy papers and inks which give a bonus to attempts to forge with them.
323. ... a room that is tangled with ropes. 1 in 6 chance a Reliquary Goblin is trying to sort them out. There are some really fancy ropes in here- witch-hair ropes, ropes designed to animate with only a whisper of magic... lots of good rope.
324. ... a dead-end room full of full-sized plaster soldiers, taken somehow from the Ghost Empire's inert army. There are many nooks and crannies to hide in, but you have to leave the way you came.
325. ... a room barely bigger than a cupboard with various magical items locked in trapped cases. A small sign on each glass case suggests asking Tasmund for access to look at any item.
326. ... a huge room full of heaps and heaps of clothes. A successful search check would take a long time, but will put together almost any costume, adding a bonus to checks to disguise.
331. ... a vast hall full of furniture and cabinets. There is a desk at one end manned by a Reliquary Goblin. Throughout the hall are dotted all sorts of items- umbrella stands of fancy duelling rapiers, printing trays of magical rings, magical masks from exotic spheres- that lie around next to used sofas and tables. The Reliquary Goblin, if he suspects thievery, will activate several combat-ready fetches and golems to restrain the players.
332. ... a room that has been rendered labyrinthine by stacked rows of crates. If players break open a crate roll again on this table and the contents of the crate are the sort of thing that would be displayed in that room. This is the inbound warehouse, where recent bulk purchases are stored.
333. ... a room full of equipment and decorations related to Golden Barges- thaumaturgical compasses, plasmic cores of ancient models, steering columns wall mounted... everything. Including a very chatty bronze head that is worth an awful lot, and served as the automated crash log for a famous colonist's ship.
334. ... a sweaty-smelling room full of sports equipment and memorabilia.
335. ... a room that once housed tools, but has been slowly overtaken by a recent influx of building supplies. Bricks, wooden floorboards and heaps of roofslate are piled around. Investigation into the back of the room reveals that something has been organising them into warrenlike structures- 3d6 goblins have breached this room from the labyrinth.
336. ... another library, only half stocked but also home to an impressive safebox labelled "contents unknown, enquire for price". If anyone gets it open there is a sentient automaton child inside.
341. ... a dingy little space with a dirty hearth and lots of cast iron tools nearby. The room looks like it was meant to be a showroom for home goods but neglect has left it looking like a transient's hovel.
342. ... a pristine corridor full of interesting little statuettes that serve as pocket gods. Half of them are very cursed, and instead cause the next luck test to be a fail.
343. ... a very well maintained room, long and clean and lined with presentation cases of different old fashions of Irifice. Anyone initiated in the codes of Irifice's priesthood will recognise that this room serves as a shrine of sorts to Taldun, god of collection and relics. Loitering here for too long has Tasmund as a random encounter- he has a 1 in 6 chance of passing through here.
344. ... a room filled with artefacts that are claimed to be related to the old Pale Elf empire. Mostly wooden weapons claiming (falsely) to be as hard as steel.
345. ... a room over two floors, with stairs and a balcony. This is the curiousity room, as Tasmund does not know what the contents are. Naturally this means he wants an outrageous price for them. These items could include modern electronics, artefacts from a very alien culture, or even campaign-specific things the party need to find.
346. ... a long room with glasspanelled doors to safeboxes on either side. The room is stocked with automata of varying sizes and shapes. Simple animate spiders, clockwork birds; there is a whole host of weird constructs in here. 1 in 6 chance that one is a thinking machine.
351. ... a warren of winding corridors connecting tiny little rooms, each stocked with a variety of glassware, ceramics or silverware. There are plenty of nooks and crannies.
352. ... a big, barnlike room arranged with racks of weapons, from daggers and knives right up to enormous seige weapons. It's a bit of a mystery as to how the larger units get in or out.
353. ... a room filled with miscellaneous junk, with a beautiful tree made from silver and crystalware at its heart. It even has false roots spreading down into the flags. The tree is actually living- when cultivated properly it can grow the crystals needed for advanced astrological equipment and so is very expensive. Someone with the proper skill could take a cutting.
354. ... a perfectly cubic room, with baskets and baskets of what is essentially scrap metal heaped about. Most of it consists of machine parts, so scavenging for repair parts has a 1 in 3 chance of success on a proper check.
355. ... a stoop-ceilinged room full of hanging devices. Dream catchers, windchimes and mobiles all make visibilty terrible.
356. ... a squat and chilly room full of various roadsigns and boards, stacked neatly but so tightly it is nigh impossible to peruse them.
361. ... a small domed room stocked up with fireworks and bags of sand.
362. ... a narrow room that resembles the shop front, full of cabinets displaying profession specific items ie medical equipment, jewellry-making tools or alchemy flasks.
363. ... an old wine cellar full of draughtsmens work and architectural drawings of various cities and structures.
364. ... a strange little cave of a room stacked with bags. Backpacks, suitcases, handbags, sacks... all heaped, all empty.
365. ... a grand-looking hall displaying a huge number and range of tapestries and hangings. At least one of them (the most hideously garish) hides a door which leads out into the servants quarters of an abandoned manor house on a smoggy sphere.
366. ... a vault with a barred door, where Tasmund keeps his serious possessions, the things he would never consider selling.

Other entities wandering the Reliquary:
11. ... a lone Reliquary Goblin, statted identically to your standard, non shopkeeping goblin except for a bonus to appraisals and bartering from Tasmund's rigorous training.
Mien: 1. Lost something 2. Found something good 3. Smug 4. Upset 5. Combatative 6. Conniving
12. ... a band of Reliquary Goblins, 2d6 of them. All are bickering and squabbling over something incomprehensible.
13. ... a Reliquary Aid, one if Tasmund's trained assistants. Skill 8, Stamina 12, Initiative 2 and Armour 0. They know one random spell.
Mien: 1. Looking for something 2. Feeling harrassed 3. Rushing 4. Irritable 5. Upset 6. Tired
14. ... another human shopper, with poor combat skills but a pistolet to back them up in case of a black friday style showdown. Skill 5 Stamina 8 Initiative 2 and Armour 0.
Mien: 1. Satisfied with their purchase. 2. Bored 3. Lost 4. Riled up 5. Lonely 6. Wants something the party have found.
15. ... a Tower Wizard, looking for some arcane component. As per the Troika core book.
16. ... a band of 2d6 standard goblins, rummaging around the Reliquary after spilling in from their Labyrinth. They could be here accidentally or they might be part of a taskforce trying to liberate the Reliquary Goblins or regain what bits of the Labyrinth Tasmund is using.
21. ... an undead manservant carrying bags and bags of goods for their absent master. Uses the Living Dead stats in the Troika core book.
22. ... 1d3 Irifician Nobles, wandering into the shop to while away an afternoon. They are now lost. Skill 9 Stamina 9 Init 2 and Armour 1; each carries a fancy rapier and pistolet, but is only confident with one of the two weapons.
23. ... a member of the Irifician Constabulary, who entered covertly to investigate the place and is now furious and lost. Skill 8 Stamina 13 Init 3 and Armour 2; he carries a studded club.
24. ... a mimic (reroll if no appropriate hiding place), which will make sounds or similar to attract attention. Skill 9 Stamina 16 Init 3 Armour 1. Always hungry.
25. ... 2d6 gremlins, scuttling from the walls. As found in the Troika core book.
26. ... an entropic imp, a small creature drawn to or spontaneously generated by areas of high magic / chaos. Skill 4 Stamina 4 Initiative 2  and Armour 0, damage as small beast. An entropic imp can sacrifice itself to roll up a random spell. One entropic imp will often mean more- it may sacrifice an initiative die to quiver and summon another of itself, at the cost of a roll on the oops table.
31. ... 2d3 Library Wyrms, small drakes with Skill 4 Stamina 8 Initiative 2 Armour 0, about the size of a ferret and with a bite that can cause an irritating dust-rash that reduces 1 skill point per hour for the afflicted until treated.
32. ... 1d3 Dust Bunnies, large malshaped constructs that hoard detritus. Skill 6 Stamina 16 Initiative 1 Armour 1 and damage as large beast. Dust Bunnies can heal 1d3 stamina by stuffing dirt in their wounds.
Mien: 1. Slothful 2. Disturbed 3. Ill-tempered 4. Mournful 5. Seeking something particular 6. Hungry
33. ... 1d6 Reliquary Goblins and a Reliquary Aid, the Aid looking harrassed as he bosses the goblins around.
Mien: 1. Suspicious of thieves 2. Transporting new stock 3. Rushing 4. All weary 5. Afraid 6. Argumentative
34. ... a broken automaton, Skill 8 Stamina 14 Initiative 1 and Armour 2, damage as moderate beast. The automaton is lost for purpose, wandering aimlessly. He is certainly confused, and his mien dictates what form that may take.
Mien: 1. Violent 2. Subservient 3. Rude 4.
Chaperoning players 5. "Helpful" 6. Incoherent.
35. ... a Reliquary Aid with wizard training- as above but with 3 spells and a bad attitude.
Mien: 1. Suspicious 2. Aggressive 3. Accusatory 4. Busy 5. Mildly irritated 6. Glad of the distraction.
36. ... a dreaded clockwork dragon, a panther-sized metallic monster with damaged ornamental wings and a maliciously-oriented malfunction. Skill 12 Stamina 20 Init 4 Armour 3 and damage as Large Beast.
Mien 1. Malicious 2. "Hungry" 3. Playful in a sadistic way 4. Ennervated 5. Winding down 6. Stalking
41-46. ... nothing happens.
51-53. ... 1d3 Reliquary Goblins
54-56. ... 1d3 Goblins
61-66. ... roll again until you get a result between 11-56. You can hear them entering the room you just came from.

Tasmund himself is Skill 10, Stamina 16, Init 3 and Armour 1- he knows the spells Animate, Sentry, Assume Shape, Find and Jolt. He carries with him a robust-looking cudgel of black-oak. 

Plot Hooks
1. You are entering to get Tasmund's appraisal of a rare magical item. On each random enounter roll, if you encounter Reliquary goblins or a Reliquary aid roll a d6. On a 6 for goblins or a 5 or 6 for aids, the encountered can direct you to Tasmund. Roll 2d6 to see how many rooms away his offices are.
2. You have been offered a substantial amount to find Tasmund's secret room of unsaleable items and steal a rare magical sword from it. His safe is in room 366 though they will have to bribe or otherwise coerce the directions from a Reliquary goblin or aid as above.
3. An Irifician Constable has gone missing in the shop after going in vigilante style, and his wife has offered a substantial sum for his return. On each room roll a d6- an even number indicates that some physical clue or clue with the creatures encountered exists.
4. You've been invited by a reliquary aid to help the shop catch a clockwork dragon on the loose that keeps mauling customers. The random encounter table is adjusted so that results 51-66 involve the clockwork dragon. The party's reward is any one item from the shop each.
5. You have insider information that one of the items in Tasmund's curiosity room (345) is worth a lot. If they can find it and get out they could get very rich. Again, finding the room will involve much cajoling for directions.
6. You've been chased in, either by the law or unsavoury elements. Lose them, trick them- get back out. Rooms 161 to 166 are all rooms with exits to other spheres.