Dec 10, 2021 2:47 pm
My first outing here is going to be a solo game called The Artefact.
Phil_Ozzy_Fer solo game - The Artefact
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Dec 11, 2021 5:14 am
The premise of Artefact is that you are creating the story of an item, an artefact, that has been lost, or is simply "waiting". Eventually, someone finds you and keeps you. They are your Keeper.
"Through them, you experience the world."
Eventually, you will rest again, discarded and awaiting another Keeper.
This game is about telling the story of an item. There are a variety of different items to choose from, and the game plays out over a span of time. The game ends when the item reaches a point where it is lost forever or damaged beyond repair.
I picked this up via Zinequest, and think it's a really fun way to create material for other games since you're not creating stats, rather you're developing the backstory of a potentially significant thing.
"Through them, you experience the world."
Eventually, you will rest again, discarded and awaiting another Keeper.
This game is about telling the story of an item. There are a variety of different items to choose from, and the game plays out over a span of time. The game ends when the item reaches a point where it is lost forever or damaged beyond repair.
I picked this up via Zinequest, and think it's a really fun way to create material for other games since you're not creating stats, rather you're developing the backstory of a potentially significant thing.
Dec 16, 2021 4:23 am
[ +- ] Rules and explanation
The game is structured in three acts. I'll build on the rules as I go, but the game starts by the player choosing an item from a list, or to be more specific, sentient magical item. Once the player chooses their item, the game proceeds with the player describing the person that made the item, as well as offering up three traits to describe its starting properties. There's a suggestion that the player draws the item. My apologies for my wretched artistic skills. At this point, it should be noted that the item is the PC for the game. Now, consider who your first keeper is, that is to say, who is the first person to take ownership of you. Once the first Keeper is resolved, move on to the second. After finishing the second Keeper, it's time to move on to Act 2.
My creator was a small, ageing blacksmith working, yet again, on realizing their magnum opus. All of the skills needed resided in the old body, but they had never reached their zenith. Each hammer strike over the anvil was a prayer that this piece, me, was to be "the one". I was comprised of an experimental blend of steel and nickel, then embellished with a copper spiral. He lived to see his hopes given form, and I was polished and given a place of honour among his previous creations. The other works were quality, but nothing compared to me. If they could speak and think as I could, then perhaps we'd have much to discuss, but they were merely inert tools.
Traits: Snobby, durable, simple
Illustration
Act 1, Newly Forged
First Keeper, Young Noble
It's probably worth describing my Keeper. He was a Young Noble from a minor family, but he was respectable. Rather than exploit his wealth, he used it as an avenue to push forward into the world. While the name he bore didn't come with an extensive network, he put himself forward on behalf of his heritage and battled his way to renown. However, war became his primary political tool, and he wielded it with deadly accuracy.
Perhaps of lesser notoriety, but no less importance was when my Keeper went to the aid of the great warrior Heras who had been trapped in a tower by Einion. It was, via a bribe that my Keeper made his way into the tower, and once inside, wreaked havoc. Rather than make it a point to fight his way to the top, he simply began destroying everything in the tower until the wizard had no choice to reveal themselves. At that point, my Keeper was exhausted, but I was ready to protect him. It was here that I received a scuff from a fireball that simply never went away, but it didn't matter. In the end, my keeper was able to protect Heras, and by doing so, cement his place in the hearts and minds of the people.
My first Keeper's time ends with me simply due to old age. While I might be expected to endure until the planet breaks itself, my Keeper is human. Time passes and takes its toll. I was to be buried with him, along with the rest of his military dress, but in the end, it was not the case. I was mounted on a wall in his home, a sign of what once had been. My glory days were to be behind, and I had been relegated to a museum piece, an icon of former glory. Perhaps it was fair, and honestly, it's preferable to being buried.
OOC:
At this point, and others during the game, the players are asked to stop and reflect with the lights off to simulate the alone time until a new Keeper acquires the artefact. The duration in the dark depends on the duration an artefact has to wait. In this case, I chose ten years of in-game time, which corresponds to a minute in real-time.Rogue without master
My next Keeper came without much more than a murmur but left with much fanfare. Mostly be she made off with me. It took a decade, and many layers of dust, but I was lifted off the wall and on their back.
No one ever seems to want her around for very long, or at least that's how it looks to me. She arrives, works, but quickly loses favour. It could also be that she has a habit of acquiring more than she was expected to be earning, and not always by the most honourable of means.
It was during one such endeavour that she put me to use, after pocketing a priceless statue she ran for the nearest horse, she took off at full gallop. The pace was intense, but archers and a horde of javelin-bearing guards were alerted almost immediately. Rather than turn herself in, she managed to lay extremely low on the horse, which happened to belong to the homestead's owner and put me up like an umbrella to ward off the projectiles. Somehow, almost as if it were by an act of the gods, she made it through with only a few cuts and a payday fit for a monarch.
Eventually, she'd piled up a fair amount of treasure and I was tossed on the top. I guess that was my cue that she'd retired. It wasn't like she'd aged, but there's only so long that someone can spend their life-enriching themselves at the expense of everyone around them. Her horde was impressive, and I'd ended up next to a deck of cards she'd borrowed from a fortune-teller. It was here that I learned of my Keeper's fate, while my own was clouded. Of course. The end would be quick, but harsh for my Keeper, and I was to disappear into the aether of time.
It was only a matter of time before the cards were proven correct, which left me with questions about the actual powers held by the cards' clairvoyant former Keeper.
End Act 1 and Move on to Act 2, A time of glory
Dec 18, 2021 5:27 am
It took time until my resting place was discovered again. I don't know how long it was. Maybe days, maybe years. There was no way to know. Once you simply lie inert for an extended period of time, everything just kind of blurs. An older man found his way into the treasure pile, much to his surprise from the sounds of things.
When he found me, I could the colours of his allegiance on his clothing. I couldn't tell who they were at first, but it became apparent soon. He immediately put me on, and we were both pleasantly surprised to see that I fit. He kept me, and I felt an immediate wave of relief.
It wouldn't take long for me to understand the colours of my new Keeper's clothing. Rather than head to the nearest village, he set up camp at the lost treasure pile and proceeded to start hunting. He'd made a list in his book of creatures that were a nuisance to the local population. Apparently, he was some kind of monster hunter and had a score to settle with a nocturnal beast. For at least a year, something big had been hunting the local livestock, as well as members of the nearby villages.
Without me, it would have devoured him as well. We went out one night, following tracks towards a copse of birch trees the beast ambushed us. If it weren't for me, he'd have been dead. Teeth and claws tore at me in fury even the best hunters would never have been prepared for. He didn't know it, but he'd thanked my creator at least once while he'd weathered the assault. I was able to give him the time needed to draw his blade and damage the beast. His age didn't just imply experience, it assured it. He'd treated his weapon to slow the creature. Poison may be, he'd never said, but it worked. We were able to put down the monster. A werewolf in the end, but the livestock stopped being killed, as did the locals. Once it had become clear what he had done, it brought his guild a considerable amount of esteem.
Unfortunately, I had sustained a significant amount of damage during the attack. I'd saved his life, but without repairs, I'd essentially be useless. The work was to be done though, and I'd be repaired, good as new. Aside from some scratches and dents, I should, in theory, outlive everyone that ever dons me. I may need new straps every now and again, but I was designed to last. It was a wish of my creator that I am not simply superbly crafted, but that I maintain my quality until someone decided to melt me down for scrap. What amazes me though, and it's appreciated is that I am polished and displayed, often. As much as I am an instrument of war, I am also an instrument of decoration. It fills me a bit with conceit, but I've never understood why I wasn't simply stored in the armoury. As long as someone takes me back out into action, I sort of enjoy the attention.
Eventually, though, war came, and the region was conquered. Thoroughly. My Keeper was one of his victims and I was looted by a scavenger and brought to the warlord in hopes of payment...
to be continued.
When he found me, I could the colours of his allegiance on his clothing. I couldn't tell who they were at first, but it became apparent soon. He immediately put me on, and we were both pleasantly surprised to see that I fit. He kept me, and I felt an immediate wave of relief.
It wouldn't take long for me to understand the colours of my new Keeper's clothing. Rather than head to the nearest village, he set up camp at the lost treasure pile and proceeded to start hunting. He'd made a list in his book of creatures that were a nuisance to the local population. Apparently, he was some kind of monster hunter and had a score to settle with a nocturnal beast. For at least a year, something big had been hunting the local livestock, as well as members of the nearby villages.
Without me, it would have devoured him as well. We went out one night, following tracks towards a copse of birch trees the beast ambushed us. If it weren't for me, he'd have been dead. Teeth and claws tore at me in fury even the best hunters would never have been prepared for. He didn't know it, but he'd thanked my creator at least once while he'd weathered the assault. I was able to give him the time needed to draw his blade and damage the beast. His age didn't just imply experience, it assured it. He'd treated his weapon to slow the creature. Poison may be, he'd never said, but it worked. We were able to put down the monster. A werewolf in the end, but the livestock stopped being killed, as did the locals. Once it had become clear what he had done, it brought his guild a considerable amount of esteem.
Unfortunately, I had sustained a significant amount of damage during the attack. I'd saved his life, but without repairs, I'd essentially be useless. The work was to be done though, and I'd be repaired, good as new. Aside from some scratches and dents, I should, in theory, outlive everyone that ever dons me. I may need new straps every now and again, but I was designed to last. It was a wish of my creator that I am not simply superbly crafted, but that I maintain my quality until someone decided to melt me down for scrap. What amazes me though, and it's appreciated is that I am polished and displayed, often. As much as I am an instrument of war, I am also an instrument of decoration. It fills me a bit with conceit, but I've never understood why I wasn't simply stored in the armoury. As long as someone takes me back out into action, I sort of enjoy the attention.
Eventually, though, war came, and the region was conquered. Thoroughly. My Keeper was one of his victims and I was looted by a scavenger and brought to the warlord in hopes of payment...
to be continued.
Jan 8, 2022 3:51 am
The warlord themselves took me up, and brandished me like some sort of jewelry. I guess they liked what they saw because I was ordered to be polished and repaired if necessary. Apparently, I was worth keeping, and the messenger that brought me was well rewarded. It was here that I began to learn about the person that was to become my next keeper.
They ran their empire with the fervour of a religious zealot. Conquest was a righteous activity, and followers flocked to the promise of a better life through warfare. If it could be captured, it could be redistributed, and there were always new lands to pillage. In an odd way, it was here that I saw perhaps my greatest glory.
We rode into battle after battle, and I kept my keeper safe, as well as cracked a few skulls as well. The volume of success would be enough to make historians blush in the eons that followed. My keeper was a genius tactically and could motivate their troops in a way that had to be seen to be believed. While not the greatest fighter, it never seemed to matter because there always seemed to be someone ready to step in and take a blow on behalf of the leader. If it wasn't a follower, it was me. I took many, many blows and had to be repaired often. Fortunately, they were skilled smiths throughout the conquered lands, all of which were only too willing to keep me in good condition. I kept the warlord safe, and they kept wealth pouring into the empire.
Unfortunately, all of the abuse took its toll, and eventually, I had been broken into several pieces. A few direct hits from a maul shattered me, although my keeper was able to slay our assailant. Despite the battle raging, they ordered me to be gathered up and returned to the castle. It felt like this may have been the end for me though. The damage was so extensive that only the greatest craftspeople would be able to reassemble me, or I'd need to be melted down and be recast. To my surprise, I was fused back together by a smith, and then had the cracks sealed by a wizard. I felt stronger than ever before but bore my scars for everyone to see. I'd been broken, and it could very well happen again. Perhaps even more easily this time.
Due to this damage and recovery, I earned my name, "Battered Bulwark". It made me feel a bit more significant than I had taken on a name due to my service and legacy. If I never felt the reverberations of another mace or sword, I'd still feel a certain sense of accomplishment, but I knew that wasn't going to be the case.
In fact, it took as much time for the seasons to change once before I was called into service again. Mere months and I was on my way, only this time it wasn't with a mighty leader. Rather, I was in the hands of a violent buffoon.
They ran their empire with the fervour of a religious zealot. Conquest was a righteous activity, and followers flocked to the promise of a better life through warfare. If it could be captured, it could be redistributed, and there were always new lands to pillage. In an odd way, it was here that I saw perhaps my greatest glory.
We rode into battle after battle, and I kept my keeper safe, as well as cracked a few skulls as well. The volume of success would be enough to make historians blush in the eons that followed. My keeper was a genius tactically and could motivate their troops in a way that had to be seen to be believed. While not the greatest fighter, it never seemed to matter because there always seemed to be someone ready to step in and take a blow on behalf of the leader. If it wasn't a follower, it was me. I took many, many blows and had to be repaired often. Fortunately, they were skilled smiths throughout the conquered lands, all of which were only too willing to keep me in good condition. I kept the warlord safe, and they kept wealth pouring into the empire.
Unfortunately, all of the abuse took its toll, and eventually, I had been broken into several pieces. A few direct hits from a maul shattered me, although my keeper was able to slay our assailant. Despite the battle raging, they ordered me to be gathered up and returned to the castle. It felt like this may have been the end for me though. The damage was so extensive that only the greatest craftspeople would be able to reassemble me, or I'd need to be melted down and be recast. To my surprise, I was fused back together by a smith, and then had the cracks sealed by a wizard. I felt stronger than ever before but bore my scars for everyone to see. I'd been broken, and it could very well happen again. Perhaps even more easily this time.
Due to this damage and recovery, I earned my name, "Battered Bulwark". It made me feel a bit more significant than I had taken on a name due to my service and legacy. If I never felt the reverberations of another mace or sword, I'd still feel a certain sense of accomplishment, but I knew that wasn't going to be the case.
In fact, it took as much time for the seasons to change once before I was called into service again. Mere months and I was on my way, only this time it wasn't with a mighty leader. Rather, I was in the hands of a violent buffoon.
OOC:
This is the segue to the third and final act. I waited about twenty seconds, months in-game time to move from this second scene to the next one. Once this third section is done, the game is over. Then comes an epilogueJan 10, 2022 5:17 am
As noted, I was a wedding gift, albeit, a present to a moron. Some part of me wanted to shatter like glass under the duress I knew I'd suffer, but I had my pride. The person that took me on was the spouse of a well-connected woman, but not someone that was respected.
My keeper believed themselves to be the vanguard for the empire's soldiers-locked in an epic struggle of good against evil. Any threat needed my keeper's attention and they would charge off into the fray trying to be a hero. More often than not they got as good as they gave, and battles often ended in the infirmary. The presence of my keeper on the front lines didn't spark fear, rather they were treated with total indifference. It was because I couldn't stand the incompetence of my keeper that I encouraged them to bite off more than they could chew, so to speak.
It was during a battle against some raiders. No one that was considered more than a nuisance, but a problem that needed to be dealt with just the same. Once the fighting began, my keeper predictably waded into the fray swinging their mace at anyone that looked unfamiliar. I pushed them further and further into the enemy's ranks, hoping for the worst. I wasn't really thinking of anything except my own well-being, and I'd had enough of this fool. Eventually, they were surrounded and pummeled by the raiders. We became separated and I had no idea what happened to them. I wasn't sad.
I know, they were probably dead and it was probably my fault. However, they were a fool. I was left in the dirt, and my keeper was dragged away by barbarian raiders. I felt some small pangs of guilt, but the relief of not having to be in the service of such a fool was far greater.
It was here on the ground I waited. It was here I had time to think, what were my keepers to me? Some I respected deeply, but this last one was a fool. I was glad to be rid of them. Where would I end up next, and more importantly, with whom? This was how I was lost, in the dirt and alone. It was my own fault, and all I could do was wait for whatever came next. Hopefully, someone would.
And eventually, someone did, although it wasn't quickly. I sat for generations, maybe a century? Dirt and dust swirled about me year after year after year. At times I felt myself regretting my behaviour, but I knew that no matter what I'd endure. I'd get through this. As long as I saw sunlight I knew I hadn't been buried. All I had to do was bide my time and hope that the Earth didn't claim me. It didn't and I was found...
My keeper believed themselves to be the vanguard for the empire's soldiers-locked in an epic struggle of good against evil. Any threat needed my keeper's attention and they would charge off into the fray trying to be a hero. More often than not they got as good as they gave, and battles often ended in the infirmary. The presence of my keeper on the front lines didn't spark fear, rather they were treated with total indifference. It was because I couldn't stand the incompetence of my keeper that I encouraged them to bite off more than they could chew, so to speak.
It was during a battle against some raiders. No one that was considered more than a nuisance, but a problem that needed to be dealt with just the same. Once the fighting began, my keeper predictably waded into the fray swinging their mace at anyone that looked unfamiliar. I pushed them further and further into the enemy's ranks, hoping for the worst. I wasn't really thinking of anything except my own well-being, and I'd had enough of this fool. Eventually, they were surrounded and pummeled by the raiders. We became separated and I had no idea what happened to them. I wasn't sad.
I know, they were probably dead and it was probably my fault. However, they were a fool. I was left in the dirt, and my keeper was dragged away by barbarian raiders. I felt some small pangs of guilt, but the relief of not having to be in the service of such a fool was far greater.
It was here on the ground I waited. It was here I had time to think, what were my keepers to me? Some I respected deeply, but this last one was a fool. I was glad to be rid of them. Where would I end up next, and more importantly, with whom? This was how I was lost, in the dirt and alone. It was my own fault, and all I could do was wait for whatever came next. Hopefully, someone would.
And eventually, someone did, although it wasn't quickly. I sat for generations, maybe a century? Dirt and dust swirled about me year after year after year. At times I felt myself regretting my behaviour, but I knew that no matter what I'd endure. I'd get through this. As long as I saw sunlight I knew I hadn't been buried. All I had to do was bide my time and hope that the Earth didn't claim me. It didn't and I was found...
OOC:
Last post comes nextJan 22, 2022 4:44 am
An aging man in a robe. This is about all I can say of my next keeper. Well, the person that found me wasn't actually my keeper. He was like my caretaker. My keeper was a wealthy middle-aged woman known for collecting items she thought had historical value. I was discovered on a fact-finding mission as powers that be went searching for my former keeper. I was recovered and brought back to take my place in civilization.
She had me polished and cleaned, which I admit was refreshing, but then I was mounted on a wall in a dark room. Then, nothing. That was it. Me, and a room full of stuff. The only activity in here was the dust motes circulating through the air whenever my caretaker came through to dust. I can't remember ever being so bored.
Sadly, the reason I'm here is the fool rode to his own death. My life before then was far more interesting, but hopefully, my legacy isn't the moron. It would be a shame if I were to spend years hanging here in hommage to an idiot.
And that was it. I was kept with a perfect shine and in fantastic condition. However, I did nothing. The room was piled with odds and ends. Some other items could carry a conversation. Many were broken beyond repair, but we were all there for the same purpose. It was to be studied, displayed, and owned. We were simply trinkets to be shown to people.
There was a story that might be the only thing I was proud of while in the possession of my previous keeper. For a time, I thought the marriage would be broken up. While he was a buffoon, my keeper was well-connected, wealty, and to his credit, attractive. At one point, he'd come in contact with a beautfil soldier from an allied kingdom. They toured together, but always with other troops. To their credit, they were professional enough to keep it a secret. Once, on patrol, we were ambushed by a group of bandits. They fought like they were possessed, but we held them off. My keeper though had trouble focusing, and wanted to protect his love interest. While she was under siege from an assailant, my keeper threw me to her so that she could protect herself from the blows while looking for a chance to counter-attack. In the end, we lost no one, and only had a few serious injuries. It was fortunate for all involved that it went as well as it did.We never saw my keeper's would be concubine again after that. She, and the rest of her troop were re-assigned.
The worst part of my fate was that I was never lost, as much as I was forgotten about. Once my keeper died, the whole collection was obtained by a monarch that I never learned the identity of. Rather than take time to learn what we all were, the entire lot of us were simply itemized, locked away in a vault, and then forgotten.
It was often that I wondered if I'd ever be discovered. Would I rust away, corroding over eons? I spoke with the others as much as was possible, but the conversation grows stale over time. Eventually, our company turned to silent companionship, and that was it. I await another keeper in the depths of my tomb. Perhaps someday...
She had me polished and cleaned, which I admit was refreshing, but then I was mounted on a wall in a dark room. Then, nothing. That was it. Me, and a room full of stuff. The only activity in here was the dust motes circulating through the air whenever my caretaker came through to dust. I can't remember ever being so bored.
Sadly, the reason I'm here is the fool rode to his own death. My life before then was far more interesting, but hopefully, my legacy isn't the moron. It would be a shame if I were to spend years hanging here in hommage to an idiot.
And that was it. I was kept with a perfect shine and in fantastic condition. However, I did nothing. The room was piled with odds and ends. Some other items could carry a conversation. Many were broken beyond repair, but we were all there for the same purpose. It was to be studied, displayed, and owned. We were simply trinkets to be shown to people.
There was a story that might be the only thing I was proud of while in the possession of my previous keeper. For a time, I thought the marriage would be broken up. While he was a buffoon, my keeper was well-connected, wealty, and to his credit, attractive. At one point, he'd come in contact with a beautfil soldier from an allied kingdom. They toured together, but always with other troops. To their credit, they were professional enough to keep it a secret. Once, on patrol, we were ambushed by a group of bandits. They fought like they were possessed, but we held them off. My keeper though had trouble focusing, and wanted to protect his love interest. While she was under siege from an assailant, my keeper threw me to her so that she could protect herself from the blows while looking for a chance to counter-attack. In the end, we lost no one, and only had a few serious injuries. It was fortunate for all involved that it went as well as it did.We never saw my keeper's would be concubine again after that. She, and the rest of her troop were re-assigned.
The worst part of my fate was that I was never lost, as much as I was forgotten about. Once my keeper died, the whole collection was obtained by a monarch that I never learned the identity of. Rather than take time to learn what we all were, the entire lot of us were simply itemized, locked away in a vault, and then forgotten.
It was often that I wondered if I'd ever be discovered. Would I rust away, corroding over eons? I spoke with the others as much as was possible, but the conversation grows stale over time. Eventually, our company turned to silent companionship, and that was it. I await another keeper in the depths of my tomb. Perhaps someday...