How we finally made the First Contact.
How does a given species become intelligent? Why does one turn from somewhat smart to actually sentient, and another doesn't? What is the magic formula, if there is one?
In pretty much every single sci-fi there is one thing common for all the seemingly different faster-than-light drives.
Sometimes is the true face of a thing forgotten, when you live in comfort, and are not forced to coexist with it.
The many ways of the Citadel to bind ideas together.
"Yes, my kung-fu is strong. You wouldn’t believe how hard it is to learn this style…"
"...a process of planetary engineering, specifically directed at enhancing the capacity of an extra-terrestrial planetary environment to support life. The ultimate in terraforming would be to create an uncontained planetary biosphere emulating all the functions of the biosphere of the Earth, one that would be fully habitable for human beings."
So what is the difference between worlds and planets?
Was the treasure horde too large? Or the employer too generous? Ohhh, there are so many ways of depriving heroes of their more or less deserved wealth.
The lowly Undead cannot be a true replacement for a living well-motivated workforce. But Undead do not tire, they do not have moods (well none worth marking), they do not require pay or lunchbreaks, and can work 24/7, if properly controled. So until activists start to fight for Undead rights, they are an interesting option.
What kind of interesting Afterlife(s) do the people have in your game world(s), whether they believe in it or for real? Is there hell(s), or paradise(s), or something in-between? What happens when people die?
In a fantastic world of magic, it can be assumed magic is in all living creatures to some degree, and a part of it is with concentration usable for magical purposes - humanoids are typically such users.
It is only logical, that for instance animals should have this magic, too.
Where will we be one day, and what will we believe? How will we consider the world around us, and the people? How will we treat the known and the unknown, and possibly other intelligent lifeforms?
Whether close or distant future, something will be similar, and something… is very likely to be different.
Are you a friend of adventures that bring you closer to the ultimate truth, that help you to learn your world, and teach you a valuable lesson? Or at least provide you with useful means upon your further journey? Then, my friend, better stay clear of the following things…
Players want their characters to be special, and a secret is one way to do it. It is also a way to better connect the character with the game world.
Sometimes it is necessary. Sometimes it just happens. Whether to a PC or NPC, a curse is something nasty that changes their life significantly, and not for the better. You were warned.
Dreams are another way to announce the future, to add colour, to guide the characters or even mislead them. This is a scroll of various dreams.
One player. One Game Master. Roleplaying in this way is slightly different than with a group.
This is more an overview of the subject, than a complete article. As one of my PCs had pottery in background, I tried to research it a bit, but given up after seeing way too much data.
The research reported on in this essay seeks to understand more about the judgment that there is “the time for war” in the belief that only such understanding will enable us to more effectively constrain the use of warfare.
Molk Peruda is encountered by the PCs on the second day of their journey west from the salt-choked port of Quyn, as they prepare to explore the jungle.
He appears a gaunt, wolfish man, with matted, dark hair that sprouts from his head in dreadlocks, contrasting with his well-oiled, blue-black, conical beard. His eyes are hidden ebon shards beneath thick arching brows, his nose, crooked, long, and reminiscent of a snout. His mouth is a thin, dark line, his teeth unseen even when he parts his lips to speak.
His skin is the color of tallow, surprising perhaps for a renowned jungle guide, yet his natural helm of dreads and the jungle's canopy keeps the sun from bronzing his originally pale flesh. On his back are tattooed three women from the waist up, side-by-side, each resembling the other but of different ages. This is a tattoo of Molk's mother, sister, and daughter. His wife (don't bring her up to him!) was killed by marauding Qullan years ago, and appears as her own tattoo on his broad but sunken chest.
His feet shockingly are turned around 180 degrees at the ankle, facing towards his back! A curse from a pernicious shaman. Molk walks feet backwards (he's used to it) and walks backwards, forwards. This can be very disconcerting and outright creepy to the PCs as he guides them through the rainforest.
Slung from his back is an archer's quarrel of treated wood carved to resemble a stalking leopard, in his hand a re-curved composite bow of horn and sinew, with a pair of vivid, red eyes, each one painted on the opposite side of the hand-grip. In a leather sheath at his belt, hangs a falchion, its pommel adorned with a curved bird's head and beak.