They were the least of those that served. They were corruption given flesh; a corpulence of festering death and decay. Rebellious in spirit, yet forever bound to the power of their masters.

This tome describes the zaug – one of the “servitors of the Galchutt”. Physically the zaug were grossly obese humanoids with no hair. They had wide mouths full of teeth, claws for hands, and short horns on their heads. Some are described as possessing vestigial, rotting wings. A few passages describe their bodies as “corrupted receptacles”. Sores and oozing pus and bile covered their fat flesh. And much of their skin hung loose in rotting folds, pocked with holes from which intestines and other guts hung out – spurting vile fluids.

Several passages are given over to describing festering poisons and other vile alchemical substances that could be created from the “bile of the zaug”, although no true details of the required procedures are given.

The flesh of the zaug itself is ever-regenerating – allowing it to survive despite the diseases, poisons, and parasites that teem through its body. They are said to never eat or drink or breathe, and to speak only telepathically.

THE SOULHARVESTERS

Some among the zaug were transformed by the Galchutt and “turned to a new purpose”. As the zaug were made living receptacles for manifest corruption, the zaug soulharvesters became living prisoners for captured and tormented souls.

“Their very flesh burned with the fire of the souls which screamed within them.”

“Their hunger was without end, fed eternally by the torment of those who seared their flesh.”

Where the flesh of the zaug festered, the beruned and corpulent flesh of the soulharvesters was glistening and taut. And pressing out against the green-veined and pallid skin of their guts were the screaming faces of those imprisoned within them.

The “soulfire flesh” of the zaug soulharvesters is described as an immense, living power source.

THE LORE OF THE LATTER YEARS

And while their masters slept, the labors of the zaug were endless.

Later lore describes the zaug working with the “titans of the Purple City” in labors of “the technology of the taint” as they worked to “perfect the crafts gifted from beyond the Demonweb”.

Other passages refer to the zaug working in the laboratories of Ghul the Skull-King. “And their works turned to the binding and changing of the flesh, and the lesser races were turned into weapons of dark might.”

KASTRALATHAKASAL

And in the sleep of the Galchutt and the sealing of the Vaults of the Rhodintor, the zaug at last found their freedom. And in their caverns of the deep, their works turned inward.

Deep beneath the surface of the earth, it is said that Kastralathakasal – the City of the Zaug – “stands citadel upon the Throne of Darkness”. The city itself is described as a stronghold of alien metals and living, organic components.

DESIGN NOTES

The zaug originally appeared in the Chaositech sourcebook and play a significant role in Monte Cook’s Ptolus. The Soulharvesters, however, were originally Solamith demons created for the D&D 3rd Edition Monster Manual V. (They made the leap to 4th Edition, but there doesn’t appear to be an official adaptation for 5th Edition, which is unfortunate in my opinion.)

Given the great plentitude of monsters available for D&D, this is a technique I frequently use. It’s similar to The Campaign Stitch, but rather than melding adventures it takes monsters and asks: What if these are the same monster?

It’s kind of like palette shifting, but rather than taking one stat block and using it to model a multitude of creatures, this technique — monster melding — takes a bunch of different stat blocks and brings their lore together. I like it because it transforms a vast-but-shallow funhouse filled with an incomprehensibly huge variety of beasties and instead uses it for depth. The zaug and the solamith are both interesting in their own right; but their sum, in my opinion, is greater than the sum of their parts: By putting them into a relationship with each other, both of them become more interesting and versatile.

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E. wrote:

My Lost Mine of Phandelver group has decided to go cross-country to find the goblin castle (Castle Cragmaw). They have vague directions from a goblin they spoke to, but I think it’s highly unlikely they could find the base just from the goblin pointing. How should I run this? Or should I just let them find it after a bit of travel? I have some wandering monsters, but I’m concerned that if they go looking and find nothing that it will be frustrating and not-fun.

When dealing with this sort of thing, I find it useful to review the possible outcomes. In this case:

1. They find it.
2. They don’t find it and nothing interesting happens while they look.
3. They don’t find it (at least, not yet), but something interesting happens while they’re looking.

Getting a good, solid grip on the situation like this makes it a lot easier to clearly understand the choices that you’re going to make. (And, by extension, the choices the players are going to make.)

Next, consider — at least in broad terms — what each of these would look like at the table. In each of these, for example, you’d briefly describe the journey and then…

1. … describe Cragmaw Castle.
2. … tell them they found nothing and ask them what they want to do next.
3. … describe the other interesting thing (location, creatures, etc.) that they encounter.

The next thing is figuring out how you’re going to determine which of these things is going to happen. This will depend a lot on the situation, the action being proposed by the players, and the existing structures of play. For example, if you were running a player-facing hexcrawl, you might have the players point to the hex they want to explore and then use all of your existing hexcrawl procedures to resolve the attempt (which would likely result in #1 or a series of #3s).

Things get more complicated, of course, if you don’t have any established structure to use (or if it’s unclear which structure you should be using and how you should use it). Figuring out how to handle that will always start with asking, “How are you doing that?” and, essentially, repeating variations of that question until you feel like you have enough information about their method to make a ruling and resolve the outcome.

In this case, the method is “explore the direction the goblin pointed us in.” Is this a sufficiently detailed method to make a ruling? That can be debated, but it’s ultimately up to you. Personally, if I can clearly see the potential outcomes of what the PCs are trying to do, I generally take that to mean the method has been clearly established. (Although I might ask some follow-up questions and clarify the details to make sure the stakes — i.e., the potential costs and rewards of the attempt — of the attempt are clear.)

In this case, I think the method is sufficiently detailed for your group, because you’ve already made the essential assessment:

I think it’s highly unlikely they could find the base just from the goblin pointing

They have enough information that there’s a chance they could find it, but it’s unlikely. All you need to do is quantify that unlikeliness. You might do that directly: “there’s a 1 in 20 chance per day of searching the area” (or 1 in 10 or 1 in 6 of whatever). Or you might do it via a daily (or hourly or weekly) skill check.

Now if the check is successful and the PCs find Cragmaw Castle, that’s inherently interesting and you can obviously just move forward with the material you have prepped.

But what if they don’t find it?

The fail state here is:

GM: You don’t find anything.

Players: We search some more.

GM: You don’t find anything.

Players: We search some more.

GM: You don’t find anything.

Players: We search some more.

GM: You don’t find anything.

Players: We search some more.

This is, obviously, the frustrating “not-fun” that you’re concerned about.

The Art of Rulings states that failure should always be interesting, meaningful, or both. (If not, you should default to success.) To achieve this, you have a few options.

First, reassess and eliminate the failure. In this case, maybe finding Castle Cragmaw with the information they have is inevitable and the only meaningful question is, “How long does it take?” Determine that as quickly as possible, describe it, and get to the next interesting choice (i.e., what do the PCs do when they find the castle?).

Second, shut down the loop: The failure is meaningful because it indicates finding Castle Cragmaw using this method is actually impossible, but it’s not interesting beyond that, so clearly communicate that failure to the players (e.g., “you search for days, but realize you’re searching for a needle in a haystack”) and then ask them what they do next. They’ll either need to try a different method of searching or choose something else to do.

Third, make sure each of those resolution loops ends in something interesting happening instead of nothing happening. You mention having wandering monster tables, for example. I’d also consider looking at other interesting locations in your prep notes, if any, along the vector they’ve chosen. That should give you a lot of fodder for describing interesting stuff while their search continues.

Note that the consistent theme here is describing failure efficiently and getting to the next meaningful choice as quickly as possible.

SUBTLETIES

Beyond these big, broad approaches, there are a lot of different subtleties an advanced game master can deploy here. For example, by blending these various tools together.

• After the players say they’re going to search the wilderness in the direction the goblin pointed them in, you can ask them how long they would continue their search before giving up. (You might ask this directly or via a proxy question like, “How many days worth of supplies are you bringing?”) With that information in hand, you could then determine how long it would take them to find Castle Cragmaw (by any number of possible methods) — if that time is less than the length of their expedition, then they find it; if not, the resolution gets shunted into a simple, “You don’t find it… now what?”
• Or each time you roll a failure in their search, you also make a random encounter check. Resolve these checks rapidly — possibly rolling them behind your screen to speed things up — so that you can summarize the entire sequence efficiently instead of dwelling in tedium.

Of course, player frustration can arise from many different sources. If your resolve their search attempt completely behind the screen, for example, they might feel that you’re railroading them by arbitrarily blocking their actions (even if this isn’t the case). For such players, in addition to working on building meaningful trust with them in the long-term, you may want to bias your rulings towards methods — e.g., skill checks that they roll themselves — where they’ll feel ownership for their failures (instead of laying the blame on you).

In short, there’s not One True Way™ of resolving a search for Castle Cragmaw. Running a roleplaying game, after all, is much more an art than a science. But I do find these general principles help guide me to useful and effective answers. Hopefully they’ll guide you to the same.

Go to Ask the Alexandrian #1

FURTHER READING

The Art of Rulings

Originally Published in Games Unplugged – March 2001

The latest release of Cosmic Encounter by Avalon Hill marks roughly the third incarnation of this game (depending on how one counts such things). Originally developed by Eon Games it was subsequently distributed briefly by West End Games and Games Workshop before ending up with Mayfair Games, and then disappearing with that company’s demise a few years back.

Despite its somewhat rocky history, the game has established itself as a classic – arguably the best boardgame ever designed.

The concept: You play an alien race which is attempting to invade the home worlds of the other players and establish colonies there. You do so by sending ships from your homeworlds to attack the homeworlds of other players. You can also ally (and have other players ally with you) during these attacks. The more ships you risk on attacks, the fewer you have to defend your own planets.

The catch: Each alien race has a special power – allowing them to break the rules of the game in a specific fashion. This simple twist gives rise to a complex variety in the strategic and tactical gameplay of Cosmic Encounter – all arising out of a simple, elegant set of rules. Cosmic Encounter is easy to learn, but you will most likely never discover all of its subtleties.

The beauty: This latest version of Cosmic Encounter is simply beautiful. The gameplay, which has always been rock solid, has been coupled with some absolutely gorgeous physical design.

Some reservations: This basic set only supports four players and twenty alien powers (compared with the Mayfair version, which supported six players out of the box and forty-eight alien powers). That being said, Cosmic Encounter has always been a game which invites the possibility of expansion – not just for including more players, but also new aliens, new powers, and new rules. Indeed, the original Eon Games version had nine expansion sets, while the Mayfair Games version had two. Based on my conversations with Peter Olotke and his son at GenCon this year, it is apparent that Avalon Hill has plans to release expansion sets in the future. So keep an eye out for those.

My only other reservation as far as Cosmic Encounter goes is this: There is a large piece of plastic in this game called the Mothership which you use to transport your offensive ships. After some reflection, I concluded that this large piece of plastic is not only unnecessary – it’s cumbersome. You are far better off leaving it in the box and simply using your Carriers – which are designed for carrying your allying ships – for both attacks and allying. Doing so simplified and sped up gameplay in my experience. As complaints go, of course, this one is fairly minor.

The verdict: Cosmic Encounter is a classic, and this version could easily become its greatest incarnation. Whether you’re a new player or old, you should definitely check this one out.

Grade: A+

Authors: Bill Eberle, Jack Kittredge, Bill Norton, and Peter Olotka
Company: Avalon Hill/Hasbro
Price: $40.00

The current edition of Cosmic Encounters is published by Fantasy Flight Games. It remains a classic. I still love the aesthetics of the Avalon Hill edition, although a haze of nostalgia and the memories of many great game nights with friends and family may be coloring that assessment, but there’s little question that the FFG version is superior, including more alien options out of the box, plus a plethora of expansions.

Truth be told, though, I haven’t played Cosmic Encounters in years. I still think it’s a ton of fun, but it seems to be pretty easily get edged out by other options these days.

Let all substance be taken from. Let all order of the world be stripped from you. Let even the bones that tie you to the tyranny of the flesh dissolve within you. Only then, veiled in grey from mortal sight, shall you serve the true Lords of Man.

This small book wrapped in grey cloth – its text copied in a small, cramped hand using a dark green ink – speaks of the Vreeth, one among the “servitors of the Galchutt”.

The book describes those of the “true faith,” who give up the entirety of their mind and body to the service of chaos. Taken away bodily from the mortal realms (“through the great sieves of Sessural’s dream and the void of Dhar Rhyth”), these cultists are altered irrevocably – becoming “things of naught, forever doomed to sing the hymns of chaos and chant the litany of destruction”. They can think of or do nothing beyond serving and worshiping the higher concept of Deep Chaos.

According to The Grey Veiled, the vreeth are the center of a cult’s veneration – they are the ultimate bridge of communion between the mortal and immortal servitors of chaos, trapped in the nether regions between the two. Thus, for the vreeth to be seen by any who are not truly servants of chaos is a blasphemous sacrilege. Any who would so profane the holy sight of the vreeth should be purged.

Upon one page, scrawled in a different hand, is a short passage: “Beneath the robes which are not there is the multitude of squamous horror…”

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Originally Published in Games Unplugged Webzine – December 27th, 2000

Spookshow is one of those games which has a really great concept – ghosts are real and they’re working as spies – which then utterly fails to develop that concept in any appreciable way.

Adding to its sin, Spookshow seems eerily aware of its limitations: An oversized, double-spaced font dominates the entire presentation. A number of interesting elements which could have taken this sketchy concept and given its real legs are, instead, presented into a section of two paragraph “wouldn’t it be nifty if we’d developed any of these ideas?” grab bags.

In general, I think Spookshow’s overriding problem – of which the pervasive lack of development is merely a symptom – is that it is a sloppy job carried out in a lazy fashion. For example, the game’s system is based around the Bearing mechanic: Each ghostly character is assigned a d6 that represents their mortal nature and a d10 which represents their “ghostly” nature. When entering any new situation, and at the beginning of every round of combat, these dice are rolled for the character to “get their bearings”. So long as neither side is a 1 or a max for that side, you can use both sides without penalty. If both dice roll the same number, then you can only use one side (which you choose). If you roll a maximum number on one die, then that side of you is at a +1 bonus to actions on that side. If you roll a 1 on one of the dice, you can’t use that side. And if you roll a 1 on both dice you freeze up completely.

It’s a good idea… totally screwed up because they didn’t spend three seconds thinking the probabilities through. Instead of fulfilling the stated intention (with the ghostly side having a greater importance because, after all, they’re ghosts), it’s the physical side which dominates the situation. Think it through: 1/6^th of the time your physical side is going to be dominant (receiving a +1 bonus); while the supernatural side will only be dominant 1/10^th of the time. Plus, its the physical die which has the most impact on almost every other element of this system – from when you freeze up, to when you need to decide on one side or the other, and so forth.

But then they make it even worse: Your Bearings roll is also added as a modifier to your action resolution attempts (creating a confusing situation in which “terrestial” and “noncorporeal” – for some reason they can never settle on just one set of terms to distinguish between the physical and ghostly worlds in the system – tasks have a completely different difficulty scale). You then take the “free die” and roll it (so if you’re doing something noncorporeal you add your ghostly Bearing modifier, and then roll your physical die). This grainy, inconsistent mess again emphasizes the physical existence over the noncorporeal existence.

The designers of Spookshow are also guilty of one of the cardinal sins of game design: They let their game terminology constantly leak over into the game world. For example, all the intelligence organizations in the world – apparently – use the names of the Spookshow archetypes (hitter, hacker, etc.) to describe their agents. They also engage in the unpleasant phenomenon of “needless binding” – in which, for example, all the ghosts who share a similar philosophy also have the same mystic abilities. For example, a Will o’ Wisp is a ghost who believes that the afterlife affords them a chance to visit all the places and do all the things they never could during life. According to Spookshow all Will o’ Wisps have the ability to Levitate (because it “enables them to travel more freely and quickly”). But why couldn’t a ghost with this philosophy develop (or possess) the Morphology ability (which would allow them to easily pass themselves off as a wide variety of different people)? It’s the classic D&D “only thieves can learn how to pick a lock”, without even the excuse of game balance lying behind it. It’s rules for the sake of rules, and restriction where there doesn’t need to be restriction.

Don’t get me wrong, there are some interesting things to be found between these covers: A fairly solid first level primer on the intelligence organizations of the real world. An interesting breakdown of character creation into Relic/Specter/Persona (who you were, what you are, and who you’re pretending to be).

Ultimately, though, Spookshow is a game which should’ve gone in one of two directions: Either all of the non-essential fluff and endless expanses of empty space in this rulebook should have been stripped away to create a tight package that could’ve have marketed around $10; or the current material should’ve been radically expanded to give us something more than “a neat concept which we’ll develop in the supplements”. Unfortunately, Spookshow does neither of these things – and is inexorably trapped in a middle ground of questionable design and nebulous worth.

Grade: C+

Writers: Aaron Rosenberg
Price: $25.00
Page Count: 208
ISBN: 1-892544-10-5
Product Code: CLK0020

This was a strange review to come back and re-read for the first time in twenty-five years.

I suspect my overall assessment of the mechanics and underdeveloped premise were likely correct, but the primary thing I’ve thought about when looking at this book over the years is, “That had a really great primer on intelligence operations!” In fact, there have been numerous occasions when I’ve cracked the cover to review that material. As a result, when I cracked open this file I was honestly expecting to read a positive review and was surprised to find a pretty harsh judgment.

Aaron Rosenberg has gone on to do a lot of great stuff, in both fiction and roleplaying.

I think I should revisit this one. It would also be interesting to compare it now with Night’s Black Agents, which is kind of playing in the same ballpark.