Marks
This is a game for fools.
Only a fool flies too close to the sun in pursuit of glory.
Only a fool stands up again when the world knocks them down.
Only a fool returns to the hunt, broken but unbowed.
Only a fool knows the secret truth of humanity.
Are you a fool? Do you know?
Everybody suffers.
But you are better at suffering than most.
You are a fool, after all.
Introduction
This game is designed to tell stories of graphic violence, including but not limited to identity discrimination, self-harm, and violence of all kinds.
I hope that it will provide catharsis, not titillation—but lines may blur.
If you are concerned about playing a game that includes any of the above topics for any reason, discuss it with your fellow players before you begin.
This game may not be for you, and that's okay.
If in the course of play you find yourself uncomfortable with the events in the fiction—or if you notice another player's experience of events may be harmful to their wellbeing—do not stay silent.
This is a game. You can always stop.
This is a game. You can always start over.
This is a game. You can always play something else.
I don't mind.
No game is worth losing you.
Work with your companions to find a way through the fiction that is not only challenging and exciting but also constructive and healthy for everyone.
If you can't do that, do not play this game.
The Game
This is a roleplaying game—a game for fools.
If you’re new to roleplaying: Welcome! We are so lucky to have you.
In this game, you and your companions—the players—will collaborate to craft a twisting, turning story of action and consequence.
You’ll create and control your other selves—the characters—within a shared daydream—the fiction—that is made up of everything true within the reality of the game that you invent.
You won’t have to stay in the fiction all the time. Some talk around the table will be out of character, and that's part of the fun. But, when someone starts talking about the fiction, pay attention: that’s the game.
Every player but one will take on the role of a Fool. You will create and control a single character, which we also call a Fool. You will inhabit that character's thinking and direct their actions. When you act under imperfect or risky conditions, you will roll dice to determine your outcome.
A Fool’s personal goal is both to use their wits and their might to bring peace to those who are suffering and also to avoid their own bitter destiny.
One player will take on the role of the World. They will lay the foundations necessary to play the game. They will create and control many characters—anyone who is not a Fool. When you encounter the things that they bring to life, they will narrate what happens.
The World’s personal goal is to fill the game with challenging obstacles, impossible choices, and rewarding conclusions.
This game is about killing monsters. We call them glories. They are a monument to all our sins. Your mission, beyond any other, is to fight them. It will not be easy, but it will save us all.
Making a Fool of Yourself
To play this game as a Fool, you must first make a Fool to inhabit within the fiction. This Fool is a character—you, but not you. They can be like you or be unlike you in as many or as few ways as you wish them to be.
All you do in this game is think, talk, and roll dice. For you, these are simple things. In the fiction, they are acts of matter and consequence.
When your Fool talks in the fiction, you talk for them. When your Fool acts in the fiction, you narrate their actions. The other players will do the same—Fools for their Fools and the World for everyone else.
The more you get comfortable with this layer of abstraction, the more you hone your ability to act truthfully as your character and not as yourself, the more you will get out of this (and any other) roleplaying game.
Fools have many intrinsic features that you will need to choose before you can begin play. You will select some of them from predetermined options and you will be invited to invent the others from scratch.
I can't tell you why you are a Fool, and neither can the game.
Something brought you into this bitter life of hunting and fighting glories with no happy end in sight, but no feature that you choose, action that you take, or die that you roll can tell you what it was.
Perhaps conditions made it necessary for you to become a Fool. Perhaps no one knows why you are the way you are. Perhaps it doesn't matter.
You may leave the matter unspoken or discuss it with your companions. Either way, reach a conclusion that you all find satisfying—and once you have, don't worry about it more and get on with playing the game.
Dice
The foremost challenge of this game is to put yourself in the headspace of an imagined person living in an imagined time and place, but that is not all you will need to do: you must also improvise in the face of uncertainty.
Rolling dice is the mechanism which creates that uncertainty.
You will roll clear dice and clouded dice. Both have six sides.
It does not matter what color they are, so long as you can tell them apart—certain circumstances of play will cause your clear dice to become clouded and your clouded dice to become clear.
The World will roll storm dice. They have ten sides.
You will want several dice. I recommend that you procure at least ten in each set—clear, clouded, and storm—for the table.
Designs
The first feature you must select for your Fool is your design, a particular way of seeing the world that grants you a unique and potent action.
There are six designs:
The explorer is prepared.
The teacher has knowledge.
The barker offers viewpoints.
The provoker makes threats.
The skulker goes unnoticed.
The wrecker breaks it.
No two Fools at one table should share the same design. Work together with your companions to pick one that suits you best.
Pools
Your primary attributes are defined by pools containing both clear and clouded dice. Additionally, each pool is associated with an action.
Bent governs your unique outlook.
Lethal governs your violent instinct.
Clever governs your analytical mind.
Carnal governs your superior physique.
When you make your Fool, configure your pools as follows:
Assign 3 clear dice to your bent pool.
Assign 2 clouded dice each to your lethal, clever, and carnal pools.
Assign 3, 2, and 1 clear dice to your lethal, clever, and carnal pools in any order you choose.
Your carnal pool has two associated physical traits, which you must select from the five possible traits below.
Strong means that you can exert phenomenal physical force.
Tough means that you can endure phenomenal physical hardship.
Limber means that you are phenomenally flexible and pliant.
Quick means that you are phenomenally fast and nimble.
Sexy means that you are phenomenally sensual and beguiling.
Your selected traits outline your discrete qualities and, once selected, cannot be changed. You cannot use your carnal pool to take an action if the situation requires a trait you do not possess.
Taking Action
Doing things is easy. So long as it is possible for you to do and has no appreciable risk of failure, you say you want to do it and you do.
Whenever risk is involved, things get a little trickier.
If there is a chance that you might fail in doing the thing you want to do, the World will ask you to take an action.
Roll as many dice as you have in that action’s associated pool—this is your action roll—and look for sixes—these are your crowns.
If your roll holds a clear crown, the action is a success.
If your roll holds a clouded crown, the action is a muddle.
If your roll holds no crowns at all, the action is a failure.
Immediately take strain after any failed action roll.
Clouded crowns always overshadow clear crowns. An action is a success only if it holds at least one clear crown and zero clouded crowns.
Outcomes
When you succeed, you narrate your own outcome.
On a success, things go the way you intended. Add a flourish, if you like.
When you muddle or fail, the World narrates the outcome.
On a muddle, you will still achieve some or all of what you intended, but that achievement comes at some level of compromise or personal cost.
On a failure, you do not complete the action at all. You will take strain and may suffer further consequences.
If the fiction of an action involves more than one Fool, only one of you should make the action roll, but you all share whatever fiction follows.
Failure is usually non-negotiable, but your bent action comes so naturally to you that even when success eludes you, you get a second chance.
If you fail with your bent action, take strain as normal, and then re-roll your bent pool. If you succeed or muddle, proceed as if this were the original outcome. If you fail again, you do not take additional strain and proceed with consequences as before.
You may only use your second chance on a failure, not on a muddle.
The Straight Actions
No matter your other features, you are lethal, clever, and carnal.
These straight actions are how you put those qualities to use.
do murder (lethal)
Kill a living thing, any way you can.
There are no half-measures with murder, and you are an accomplished taker of life—when you mean something dead, it dies.
be aware (clever)
Glean a critical detail or make a logical leap.
You are excellent at figuring things out. You notice what needs to be noticed, whether others want you to or not.
get physical (carnal)
Use your body to cause or avoid an event.
You can only get physical with your selected traits—if an action could only be accomplished with a different trait than either of those that you possess, you cannot attempt it.
The Bent Actions
You can accomplish most things to through the appropriate application of straight actions, but your design will often offer a more direct path.
These bent actions are how you put that way of thinking to use.
be prepared (explorer)
Carry exactly the thing you need for the current situation.
You knew this was going to happen, somehow—call it a flashback, if it makes you feel better—and you brought the perfect item or equipment.
have knowledge (teacher)
Possess comprehensive information about the current situation.
You are well traveled and extremely learned. You know something about everything, especially if it's out of the ordinary.
offer a viewpoint (barker)
Convince someone to believe you or to take a deal.
You can sweet talk just about anyone into coming around to a certain way of thinking, whether it's true or not.
make a threat (provoker)
Coerce someone into obedience under the threat of violence.
You are good at inflicting pain and even better at impressing that fact upon others. If they do what you want, no one needs to get hurt.
go unnoticed (skulker)
Perform an act without anyone knowing you've done it.
You can put things in places—or take them out—and no one will ever know. One of those things is yourself.
break it (wrecker)
Commit irreparable damage to a nonliving object or mechanism.
You know more than how to kill humans—you know how to destroy just about anything that was built by human hands.
Strain
You measure the things you carry—your anxieties, injuries, and regrets—as strain. The more strain you accrue, the harder things get.
Strain starts at 0 and may reach a maximum of 6.
At 0-2 strain, make action rolls as normal.
At 3-5 strain, cloud one clear die in every action roll.
At 6 strain, cloud two clear dice in every action roll.
You take strain whenever you fail an action roll or lend a hand.
These are the only ways you take strain. The World will never force you to take strain as consequences for an action roll that you did not make.
Whenever you take strain, add 1 to your current count of strain.
If you are already at 6 strain, ignore taking strain.
You alleviate all strain when you satisfy your heart's ease.
Lending a Hand
When another Fool takes an action, you may lend a hand.
Describe how you are helping and roll 1d6 against your current strain.
If the number you roll is higher than your current strain, give the Fool an extra clear die to use on their action roll.
If the number you roll is equal to or lower than your current strain, give the Fool an extra clouded die to use, instead.
Immediately take strain after lending a hand.
You may not lend a hand if you have already accrued 6 strain.
Only one Fool can lend a hand per action roll.
If the way in which you propose to help is implausible under your present circumstances, the World may require you to reconsider your method before you can lend a hand.
Elements
Beyond pools and strain, your features do not have any associated numerical statistics—instead, they are composed entirely of elements.
An element is an evocative and concise description or statement—never more than a few words or phrases.
It grants no inherent bonuses or penalties, but it defines the fiction: unless it has been altered, removed, or superseded by another element, you should treat every element as indisputably true.
If you choose a bow and arrows as your weapon of choice, you might give them the elements heavy draw and barbed broadhead points to describe that only a strong character can effectively use the bow and that your arrows don’t like to come out of things once they’ve gone in.
If you choose a plasma cannon, you might give it the elements loud, hot, and vaporizes flesh, all of which pretty much speak for themselves.
If you have a winning smile, that’s an element. Maybe you have gaunt cheeks, or a long tongue, or a hooked nose, or a piercing gaze. You might be waifish, or built like a mountain, or you might have curves for days. Maybe misfortune left you with a jawline scar, or with milky eyes, or permanently missing half an ear.
Maybe you wear an eye patch, or a big hat, or a diaphanous raiment, or an embroidered tunic, or maybe you just never wear a shirt. Do you have a septum piercing, or a nose chain, or several eyebrow studs, or maybe you have a bad habit for gaudy jeweled rings. Those are all elements.
Elements can be detrimental or reflect poorly on your person. These negative elements are usually assigned by the World as consequences.
You do not need elements to establish naturally obvious aspects of a thing. A spear doesn’t need an element stating that it’s piercing, unless there’s something very weird going on with spears in the fiction.
Transient Gestalt
Your transient gestalt is more than just a description of height, weight, eye color, hair color, and so on. It is a collection of distinct and memorable features of your person, both those that are important to others and those that may only be important to you.
When you create your character, write three or four elements that outline your appearance. Consider how someone might describe you (say, to the authorities) if they saw you pass by on the street. No one will recall every single detail, but they'll remember the broad strokes.
Make your elements personal and entertaining—something that you will enjoy embodying for the duration of your adventure. If you don’t find them memorable, how will anyone else?
If you have any notable physical qualities or tics that might not be externally obvious but that may play a significant role in the fiction, you should write them as elements, too.
Disabilities, deformations, and otherwise negative physical elements will nearly always impose a heavy emotional burden, and the World should never assign them without first receiving a Fool’s consent.
As a Fool, you are exceptional, but this does not limit you to any physical stereotype. If you cannot imagine being a strong, tough, limber, quick, or sexy person with a disability, expand your horizons.
You should have many options of culture and ethnicity in any fiction, but you only have one choice of (so-called) race: you are human.
Maybe you are a human who has pointy ears, or who is rather small, or who has furry feet, or who is green, or who has an electronic brain, or who breathes underwater, or who flies through the air, or who spits fire, or who sees without eyes, or who speaks without words, or who has fluid gender.
Regardless, you are human.
This is a game about humans, and there is no other option.
Inexorable Fate
Maybe you were cursed to be a Fool. Maybe you chose this dirty path. It doesn't matter. Whatever happened before, and whatever happens next, your inexorable fate is what will happen in the end.
Your inexorable fate has no immediate ramifications for any given episode, but if you are unhappy with what the future holds, you may strive against it. After each episode, ask yourself:
"Have I done aught or naught to change my stars?"
If you think that you have taken a step towards avoiding your fate, note it. Beware, though: the steps on that path are not numbered. Your fate may be too strong; all your efforts may come to nothing.
You must choose one of these four inexorable fates. Once you have selected your fate, you may never choose another. I encourage diversity, but you may share the same fate as any number of your companions—every fate can take on many different forms.
No Rest for the Glorious: You end fighting.
Perhaps it will be at the hands of a fearsome glory. Perhaps you'll cross a bandit with a bad temper and find a knife in your back. Either way, you'll go down swinging—with honor, if you're lucky.
Die a Hero or Live a Glory: You end a monster.
Perhaps you will be consumed by your own suffering and become your own glory. Perhaps you will become something darker still: too often a hero's rise ends in a villain's fall.
Glory's Labor Lost: You end unfulfilled.
Perhaps you sought revenge. Perhaps a loved one sprouted a glory, and you've chased it ever since. It matters not: whatever you seek, you will never find it, not even at the end of your days.
Abandon All Glory: You end alone.
Perhaps they love you now, but they will not love you forever. Eventually, no one will even remember your name. You will have nothing but yourself for comfort, and what little comfort that is.
Heart's Ease
Your heart’s ease is a desirable ethos, an act that calms your inner demons, that puts your mind at peace, or that otherwise makes you feel like a better version of yourself.
Whenever you satisfy your heart’s ease, alleviate all strain.
Your ease need not be moral (or immoral) in nature. It may not even be in opposition with your pernicious drive—those whose drives and eases are closely linked may have the most self-awareness of us all.
Hunting glories will rarely present convenient opportunities for comfort. You may stray from your mission to obtain what you need, but beware the complications that such dalliances bring; the act of alleviating strain often proves to be more strenuous than simply carrying on.
Below are examples of heart's eases. You may choose any of these or write your own variation.
Put right what is wrong.
Give hope to the hopeless.
Tend to a wound.
Make someone smile.
Change someone’s mind.
Gain a powerful ally.
Learn dangerous information.
Show mercy.
Create order.
Sow anarchy.
Have sex.
Get blackout drunk.
Destroy something beautiful.
Ruin someone’s day.
Shatter a mind.
Prove dominance.
Balance the scales.
Pernicious Drive
Your pernicious drive is an impulse, an urge that overrides rationale or considerations of context. When in doubt, it’s what you do.
Once per episode, when you indulge your pernicious drive as part of taking an action, clear all your clouded dice for that action roll.
The worst thing about your drive is that it always feels right in the moment. When the crisis is over and the adrenaline fades, it might just haunt you—but then, it’s nothing you haven’t done before.
Your actions do not take place in a vacuum. There is no direct penalty for indulging yourself, but you should expect the characters who witness your behavior to remember it. You may make the immediate action easier only to create far greater difficulties, moving forward.
Below are examples of pernicious drives. You may choose any of these or write your own variation.
I hold the line.
I defy authority.
I protect what’s mine.
I lie.
I steal.
I deflect responsibility.
I chase skirt.
I do it in style or not at all.
I trust no one.
I grant no second chances.
I suffer no challenge.
I bury my feelings.
I speak my mind.
I wear my heart on my sleeve.
I rush in.
I spread my beliefs.
I am good out here.
Weapons and Possessions
Whatever else you are, you are a killer. It does not matter what means you have at your disposal: you know how to take a life and snuff it out. All the same, you have a preference of tools.
Your weapon of choice is just as the name describes. It can be anything that makes sense for your fiction, and you start the game with some version of it in your possession.
Give your weapon two or three elements that outline its particular qualities. This is a starting point, but these elements may be changed over time by the wear and tear of your adventures.
Should something happen to render your weapon of choice unusable, you may replace it in-between episodes. Give the replacement a new set of elements to reflect that it is different than what you had before.
If you carry any other items on your person that are important enough to remember, these are prized possessions, which may include secondary weapons, peculiar items, or sentimental objects.
Prized possessions should have one element and never more.
You should not start the game with more than one or two prized possessions, though you may acquire more later on.
It is not unusual for a Fool to have no prized possessions at all.
Altering Elements
In the course of the game, you may wish to alter your elements. Whether or not you can do so depends on the element in question, but you should always look to your companions for guidance before committing to any changes.
You cannot select a different inexorable fate under any circumstance.
Your pernicious drive and heart's ease do not change easily or without outside pressure. If you believe that the events of an episode (or several episodes) have been enough to adjust your fundamental outlook, you may replace them before the next episode.
Your weapon of choice itself is no easier to change than your pernicious drive and heart's ease, but its specific elements may shift as regularly as you use (and misuse) it.
Your transient gestalt and your prized possessions—themselves no more than a single element—are highly mutable. They will change any time the fiction demands it.
Glories
To understand glories, you must first ask: what is Blue Chaos?
It is the space that stands outside and between. It is life without life, death without death, the voidless void, a sea of light that glitters with dark stars. It is the enemy of all things and glories are its flowers.
They are monstrous, vengeful things. They are tragic, as they are born of human tragedy. They have only one desire: to unmake the universe.
Whenever a human is so overwhelmed by suffering that they open themselves to the nourishing waters of Blue Chaos, a glory sprouts from the seeds of misrule within them, consuming them utterly.
Where there is a glory, malignancy lingers. It may take many forms. Perhaps all the crops wither, or the children and elderly grow sick. Perhaps those within the breadth of the glory's touch suffer nightmares without cease. Perhaps the glory itself stalks the night.
Eventually, someone will call for you.
Episodes
Play is organized into episodes.
All episodes have five acts:
In the overture, the episode opens. The World sets the scene.
In the unfolding, the episode develops. You hunt a glory.
In the showdown, the episode climaxes. You fight the World.
In the casting, the episode resolves. You take a vote.
In the coda, the episode closes. The World draws the curtains.
When you have finished the specific requirements of each act, you should move immediately on to the next one.
Episodes are best completed in one sitting, but if that doesn't fit your available time or style of play, do what works for you.
When a session continues an episode already in progress, you should start with an entr’acte that reintroduces the episode’s previous events and current predicaments, then get right back to the action.
If this is not your first episode, you may pause for a reprise between the overture and the unfolding to describe your whereabouts since the conclusion of the previous one, if it is relevant to the fiction.
The Unfolding
To fight a glory, you must behold it, but glories do not commingle with your level of reality. They are beyond reach, dwellers of phantasmagoric lairs—gardens—into which no soul may travel.
But you are no mere soul. You are a Fool, and you know the way.
In the unfolding, you must uncover a glory's two existential truths: first, the profound suffering that caused it to sprout; second, the last human remnant of its husk.
You may find them in any order, but you will need to find them both.
The World will introduce you to your surroundings, but will not tell you where to go or what to do to accomplish this task. It is up to you and your companions to explore and interact with what you find.
Use any means at your disposal to pursue these truths. Your design may prove especially useful in this regard, but do not be afraid to place yourself in situations where you must utilize straight actions.
So long as your comprehension of either truth is inaccurate or incomplete, you must continue the hunt. At the moment you seize them both, you will pass into the garden and enter the showdown.
The Showdown
Now you must fulfill your terrible purpose. This your chance to unleash all the power at your command with no fear of censure or repercussion. Do what you do best in the most thrilling way that you can.
The showdown happens in two alternating phases—first the rally and then the joust. You repeat this cycle until you or the glory succumbs.
Before the first rally, you must configure your communal joust pool.
Joust pools begin with a base of three clear dice.
Roll 1d6 against your current strain—similarly to lending a hand.
If the number you roll is a crown, or is higher than your current strain, add an extra clear die to the pool.
If the number you roll is equal to or lower than your current strain (and not a crown), add an extra clouded die to the pool.
The joust pool is fully configured once every Fool has added either a clear or clouded die to the pool. You will all take turns rolling this pool for every joust in this showdown.
The Rally
In the rally, you take a single action. When every other Fool has also taken an action, the rally ends and you conduct the joust.
The outcomes of action rolls in the rally are different, here:
On a success, you apply the action's effect.
On a muddle, you apply the action's effect, but you cannot use that action in the next rally.
On a failure, you do not apply the action's effect, cannot use that action in the next rally, and may suffer consequences.
Immediately take strain after any failed action roll, even in the rally.
Multiple Fools may take the same action in a single rally, and you may take actions in any order you wish. Once you have made your action roll, you cannot change which action you have chosen to take.
There is no specific description for what makes up any of the actions in the rally. You perform them in the fiction in any way you can devise with the ingenuity and abilities at your disposal.
Similarly, no outcome happens without a reason. If you cannot repeat your action in the next rally, the World will tell you why. If you incur consequences for your action, the World will tell you how.
The Joust
Roll your joust pool. The World will roll the glory's joust pool.
Spend your rolled dice to counter the glory's rolled dice by matching them with equal or greater values.
Clear dice count for their full showing value.
Clouded dice showing four, five, or six will only count as a three.
You may only spend each of your dice once unless you are enabled by a rally action's effect to do otherwise, but you may use several of your dice to counter a single one of the glory's if it is necessary.
You win the joust if you can counter all of the glory's dice. When you win, annihilate (permanently remove) a die from the glory's pool.
You lose the joust if you cannot counter all of the glory's dice. When you lose, cloud one of the clear dice in your joust pool.
When the joust is over, repeat the rally, unless:
Every die in the glory's joust pool is annihilated.
Or, every die in your joust pool is clouded.
When one of these happens, progress immediately to the casting.
The Rally Actions
You do not use straight or bent actions in the showdown, and you may not lend a hand. Instead, you will take these rally actions.
attack (lethal)
Boost a die in the next joust.
A boosted die can be used twice in the joust at its rolled value, either against the same die, or against two different dice. A die cannot be boosted more than once in the same joust.
set (clever)
Bank a die after the next joust.
A banked die retains its rolled value for the subsequent joust—and only for the subsequent joust; a banked die must be rolled before it can be banked again. If a banked clear die becomes clouded, it retains its clear value until it is rolled again, but is still considered clouded.
block (carnal)
Blunt a die in the next joust.
A blunted die tops out at five—any blunted die showing value higher than five will only count as a five for the current joust. Blunted dice return to normal once they are rolled.
The Casting
In the casting, vote to select which of you will receive a new mark.
Marks are the the scars of fighting glories, unbelievable abilities that defy the laws of the natural world, turning humans into something resembling gods or monsters. They are loathed and lusted after in equal measure.
Go around the table and declare your vote out loud. Every Fool must cast a vote, and you cannot vote for yourself. If there is a tie, the World will cast the deciding vote.
When you are selected, borrow a storm die from the World. Roll it and consult the Compendium. You may choose either of the marks that match your roll, but you may not choose the same mark twice.
If you already possess both marks for the value you rolled, or if you roll a 0 (or a 10), roll again or let the World choose a mark for you.
Add your chosen mark to your internal features.
When you choose a mark, add one clouded die to your bent pool and add one clouded die to another pool of your choice. None of your pools may exceed six dice in total (three clear and three clouded).
You can choose a maximum of three marks. If you have already chosen three marks, you may not be selected in the casting. If everyone at the table has already chosen three marks, you may skip the casting.
All marks can be manifested at will. Using a mark may or may not be physically or mentally taxing, but it carries no statistical penalty in either scenario. You may combine the manifestations of multiple marks, if you can describe how that works.
Marks do not have associated actions. Use them in conjunction with any appropriate action. Depending on the mark, you may consider them as carnal traits, weapons of choice, or other features.
The Devil at the Crossroads
What is the devil? Who can say? But, someday you're going to meet them, and that will be the day you face your inexorable fate.
You cannot meet the devil at the crossroads until you have acquired three marks. From that point on, your future itself becomes clouded.
At any time thereafter, you may proclaim that you want to meet the devil at the crossroads, here and now—or, the World may proclaim that they want you to meet the devil at the crossroads, here and now.
The other of you must respond, in acceptance or protest:
"I am ready."
Or, "I am not ready."
If either one of you is not ready, play goes on as it did before. You may not meet the devil at the crossroads again until the next episode or later.
If you are both ready—and be sure that you are, because this will be your final act—proceed with the following:
You narrate what happens next. Do not roll. You may use any means at your disposal to the very heights of your ability and beyond. Whatever you do, you do it spectacularly and without consequences.
When you are done, you are done.
The World will tell you what happens next:
Did you subvert your inexorable fate, or did you succumb to it?
Were the things you did really enough?
Whatever happens, sit back and relax. You are a spectator for the remainder of this episode. Before the next episode, if you wish, you may make a new Fool and rejoin your companions. Perhaps the World will wish to make themselves a Fool instead, and you'll become the new World.
Maybe it will turn out differently, this time.
The Compendium
Each mark's description includes any prescriptions for its use. So long as you do not contradict these elements, you may entirely determine the descriptive details of the style and substance of your marks.
1 You can communicate telepathically.
or You can create perceptible but intangible illusions.
2 You can turn your body to stone.
or You can make your body elastic.
3 You can radiate waves of force.
or You can produce force fields.
4 You can grow extra limbs.
or You can extend your senses beyond their natural range.
5 You can set your weapon ablaze with unquenchable fire or ice.
or You can burn or freeze with your touch.
6 You can endlessly excrete water.
or You can endlessly excrete salt.
7 You can recall your weapon to your hand.
or You can produce ephemeral copies of your weapon.
8 You can call down lightning from the heavens.
or You can hurl orbs of crackling energy.
9 You can teleport short distances.
or You can fly.
Are you the World? Read on.
The World
You are the World: you are everything that the Fools are not.
I mean this literally. Any part of the game that is not the rules or the Fools is yours to create, command, and bring to vibrant, violent life.
As the World, your primary obligation is to maintain the fiction.
This responsibility has two tenets:
First, contrivances are never satisfying. Whatever happens can be ridiculous, unbelievable, or perplexing, but it should never be dissonant with what has been established before. No one will thank you for playing fast and loose with what is true in the fiction.
Second, Fools are a part of the fiction. Whenever the Fools approach a new situation, ask them: "What do you do?" But don't stop there! Ask them: "How do you do that?" Ask them: "What do you intend to achieve?" When they give you their answers, react to those.
You will also be expected to know the rules. Everyone who plays this game should do so with at least a basic understanding of the rules in mind, but when in doubt, they will always look to you.
This game cannot function without your role, but you are still a player like everyone else at the table. If you are afraid that you won't enjoy this burden, discuss it with your companions. Someone else might be better suited to take on the role of the World, and that's okay.
Making a Glory by Yourself
Every glory has three features: a dread gestalt, a garden, and a pool.
A glory in bloom may take any shape that you can imagine—and many that you can’t. Their dread gestalt is utterly unbound by what is reasonable within your fiction. Go wild, or go unwild. Aim for the uncanny valley, or aim for the mountains of madness.
If you can think it up, it’s a valid option.
None of a glory's elements have any associated statistical value—there is no numerical, aesthetic, thematic, or metaphorical limit to what a glory can be or what a glory can do.
The more interesting elements you give a glory, the more narrative opportunities you provide for yourself and the Fools. Showdowns should be big, bombastic boss fights. Let loose. Go crazy. Make it fun.
As Fools progress and attain marks, they will become more powerful—and more varied in their powers. You may wish to leave yourself some room for your glories to grow and for your showdowns to escalate in scale.
A glory's garden is an extradimensional refuge, a pocket of space that is no more bound by the fiction than the glory itself. More specifically, it is the stage where the showdown happens.
The dread gestalt and garden should go hand in hand—whether they are reflections of one another or horrific juxtapositions. The more interesting elements you give the garden, the more you and the Fools have to work with while narrating the showdown.
There is a limit to how much information any one of us can hold in our theater of the mind. If you present a particularly complicated glory, it may be wise to simplify your garden, or vice versa.
A glory's pool of storm dice is synonymous with its joust pool.
You must put at least five dice in that pool. The more dice you add, the harder it will be for the Fools to win the showdown.
The Overture
At the beginning of every episode, you perform the overture. It is an exhortation to play, an invitation to interact, and a call to hunt and fight another glory. It should be both stirring and haunting.
This is your chance to set the episode's tone. Stories within this game are unfailingly tragic, but tragedy is a spectrum—it need not always be dour. Give the Fools a hint of how this episode will feel different from the one that came before it and from the one that will come after.
Establish some clear landmarks and highlight some colorful details of the episode's tableau. This will encourage the Fools to interact with what's important (and help them avoid what isn't) without you needing to tell them where to go and what to do.
Avoid the urge to tell the Fools about everything you've built. You need to give them enough information that they feel comfortable self-directing through the unfolding, but leave them the gift of surprises.
The overture can be as long or as short as you need it to be.
Then again, the Fools will not get to play the game until you've finished, so maybe don't take too long to say your piece.
The Tableau
In advance of every episode, you must build a tableau.
When it is finished, your tableau will consist of a working description of the episode's time and place within the fiction—a setting—and a collection of characters for the Fools to encounter—an ensemble.
A thorough tableau is as valuable to you as it is to the Fools—they need to be able to explore their surroundings, and you need to be able to describe what happens when they do.
Your setting should include an overall location for the episode to take place, as well as any specific locations that you anticipate the Fools will visit in the course of the unfolding.
Give each location a few defining elements and a look. You don't need to place every table and chair, unless you are inclined to such things, but the better you understand its basic construction and odd features, the easier it will be for you to utilize the space in your interactions.
Your ensemble should include a tangled web of friends and enemies and kin and strangers, every one connected to the glory's existential truths and to each other. They, like most humans, are prone to guilt and deceit, and few are inclined to cooperate with the Fools.
Give each character a few defining elements and a voice. You do not need to provide them with lengthy backstories, but the better you understand their basic motivations and capacities, the easier it will be for you play them when the Fools cross their path.
If you're comfortable creating and remembering these things on the fly, so be it, but I encourage you to spend some healthy time in preparation.
You are never under any obligation to share every detail of the tableau with the Fools, nor should you be afraid to alter unrevealed aspects of the tableau in the moment if exciting permutations occur to you.
Roles in the Ensemble
The presence of a glory has a certain ripple effect on the characters of an ensemble, forcing them into reoccurring roles. I have identified six.
The husk sprouted the glory.
Triggers caused the glory to sprout.
Keepers can reveal a glory's truth.
Ushers can lead you towards a keeper.
Warders can block the way to a keeper.
Ringers appear to be keepers, but are not.
With the exception of the husk and the trigger—who must exist, or there would be no glory—you will not need all of these roles in every episode, but you will want most of them in most episodes.
One character can play many roles and many characters can share the same role. In general, adding keepers and ushers makes uncovering truths easier, while adding warders and ringers makes it harder.
Triggers are always keepers, though they are rarely the only keeper in the ensemble. Sometimes you may even have more than one trigger.
The environment can fill some of these roles. A locked door can make as compelling a warder as an armed guard. A trigger's diary can be as effective a keeper as the trigger themselves—maybe even a better one.
Secrets are not restricted to those directly involved in the glory's sprouting. Consider giving every character something they will fight to keep hidden, should the Fools intrude on their inner lives.
The Heart's Demise
Humans are awful. We inflict unimaginable suffering on our fellows for the most selfish and petty of reasons.
The heart's demise is what the trigger did: a record of atrocity.
It is, without exception, an act of violence.
To understand a trigger's mindset, I suggest that you start from one of these six dark thoughts. Left to fester overlong or catalyzed by discomfort or surprise, these easily tip over into dark actions:
Fear—I believe someone might take what is mine.
Envy—I want what someone else has.
Contempt—I think someone does not deserve what they have.
Despair—I cannot get back what I have lost.
Shame—I have done what I should not do.
Cowardice—I cannot do what I yearn to do.
Choose a dark thought, and consider what violence it inspired. You do not need to dwell in the details of the act any longer than you can stand. Find what level of luridity is right for you and your companions and don't go further. You should not revel in this.
You will have to tell the story in the voices of the keepers who know it. Do not write anything that you can't abide your characters regurgitating when the time is right.
Remember that whatever the act was, it was enough to push the husk into the embrace of Blue Chaos. However impersonal it may have been for the trigger, it is always personal to the husk, and there is no such thing as an act too small (or too large) to be so monstrous.
Consider that dark thoughts have a tendency to spread, and also that communities are rarely monolithic in their prejudices. The characters that surround your triggers will likely share their affliction, but beware limiting any character to just one dark thought.
The Pernicious Anchor
Humans are wonderful. We can find empathy, attachment, and affection to almost anyone and anything, under the right conditions.
The pernicious anchor is what the husk left behind: a beloved object, person, sensation, idea, or moment in time.
Anchors can be almost anything—a childhood keepsake, a craftsman's tool, a lover, a melody from a song, the scent of soil after the rain, light over the mountains at sunrise, and so on.
It is the antithesis of the heart's demise: the thing that drove the husk's dark thoughts away, before the trigger overwhelmed them.
Finding this truth can mean different things depending on what form the anchor takes. If it is a tangible thing, the Fools need do no more than possess it or recognize it and stand in its immediate presence. If it is a concept, idea, experience, or something else intangible, the Fools may need to recreate the circumstances of its happening.
Consequences
You are the World in all its expected and unexpected forms. When the Fools' actions go awry, you will assign them consequences.
If a Fool asks you for the potential consequences of taking an action, don't be coy. Consequences aren't a mystery box—they should grow out of the fiction. Until a Fool makes an action roll, they can always decline to take an action if the consequences appear too dire.
Once you have assigned consequences, your word is final and not up for any Fool's bargain or debate. If a Fool did not anticipate an unfortunate outcome to their actions, that is not your problem.
You assign consequences any time that…
…a Fool asks you for direction.
…a Fool deviates from the hunt.
…a Fool muddles an action.
…a Fool fails an action.
Consequences take three forms: complication, compromise, and cost. Outside of these broad structures, consequences are your playground.
Do what you like.
That said, you are not the Fools' adversary. Your goal should always be to raise the stakes, to heighten the tension, and to drive the episode forward—never to unfairly (or unexpectedly) punish the Fools.
Again: contrivances are never satisfying.
Note that strain is not strictly a consequence—it is automatic to failed action rolls and lending a hand. You will never need to choose to assign it.
Complication
A complication is a twist. You present a wrinkle in the narrative. Assign this when a Fool asks you for direction or deviates from the hunt.
This should be a soft move: something that doesn't directly imperil the Fool, but which may make matters much worse if left unchecked.
Consider the following complications:
Reveal a new obstacle.
Present an impossible choice.
Force someone to act in untested ways.
Put someone in imminent danger.
Offer a costly opportunity.
Compromise
A compromise is a half-measure. You grant the Fool some of what they want, but not all of it. Assign this when a Fool muddles an action.
Where it fits, you may give Fools an alternative outcome to any muddle: they can reject the compromise and take a cost, instead, thus preserving the full results of their action (as if they had succeeded).
Consider the following compromises:
lethal: the Fool kills their target, but not how they wanted.
clever: the Fool gets a clue, but not the full answer.
carnal: the Fool's action has an unexpected ripple effect.
explorer: the Fool has something close, but not quite it.
teacher: the Fool has only vague or partial knowledge.
barker: the Fool must sweeten the deal.
provoker: the Fool must prove their threat has teeth.
skulker: the Fool does not go completely unnoticed.
wrecker: the Fool breaks their target, but not beyond repair.
Cost
A cost is damage. You take something from the Fool. Assign this when a Fool fails an action, or when they choose cost over compromise.
Any cost you offer as an alternative to compromise should carry a heavy price—don't make it an easy choice for the muddling Fool.
Consider the following costs:
Assign a negative element to the Fool's weapon of choice.
Assign a negative element to the Fool's transient gestalt.
Destroy or displace one of the Fool's prized possessions.
Prevent the Fool from taking action in a time of need.
The Coda
At the end of every episode, you perform the coda. Think of it as a eulogy for the episode that was. Return to your tableau and reflect the changes that the Fools have wrought through their interference.
You can play the coda as a series of short scenes, giving the Fools a last chance to interact with key characters before they move on.
It is equally appropriate to render the coda as a brief monologue. What’s done is done and nothing will give the Fools a chance to make things different—unless you return to this tableau in a later episode.
At its most impactful, your coda should leave everyone at the table silent, pondering—pensive, even—until you all break character and start chatting about everything that happened in the session.
For the time you have, the coda is all yours: take a bow.
Aftercare
To complete an episode is to step back away from the edge of the abyss—but do not forget that you and your companions around the table have just spent several hours gazing into its maw.
It may be wise to plan some kind of light and calming after-session activity as a matter of course—go out for dinner or drinks, play a less-involving game, watch a movie, or just put on some music and chill.
If you notice someone struggling with the content of an episode, make a point to check in with them not just during and after the session, but in a few days' time. Or, if someone else in the group is in a better position to talk it through with them, insist that they do so.
Managing everyone's experiences after the game is over will ensure that you get to keep having game experiences in the future.
Ask for help when you need it. Encourage your friends to do the same.