Cthulhu is an infra-dimensional entity that has only a conceptual existence within the human “R-complex,” the brain stem and limbic system left over from our primordial reptilian ancestors. This is why he appears only in dreams, high-stress encounters (such as shipwrecks), and artistic impulses. He is attempting to create a critical mass of believers so that he may “emerge from R’lyeh” and open the eyes of all ... [p91, Trail of Cthulhu]
In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also. John 14:2, KJB
Jude Lazaro performs Shakespeare's As You Like It
The Setting of any campaign is a delicate and tricky thing to get right. You want it to sing, but you don't know how it will change over the course of play. What if it doesn't work? Will you need to fix it? Is it broken forever?
The thing you need to bear in mind - whether with this or any other RPG - is that you don't have complete control over the Setting, any more than you do the plot. Even if this were a stage play, carefully rehearsed for weeks and with every least action plotted out and calculated for maximum effect, every performance is its own animal. You just don't know what will happen when an actor moves to center stage and opens their mouth, any more than you know how or when the audience will react, laugh, gasp, or sit in enraptured silence.
What you do know is that the audience - the players - are a vital part of the experience. A good play can die on its feet if the audience aren't engaged. A middling play can seem brilliant beyond compare, if the audience laughs.
If you don't believe me, check out this Broadway thread about the best night to go to the theatre. I tend to agree with the folks who say Thursday is the best night to go. Friday, the audience is too frazzled. Saturday, they're not paying attention.
Incidentally, this is also why, in any stage production, that the director hands control over to the stage manager before the opening night's performance. The director has done all they can. If they stuck around, they'd be tempted to fiddle with the performance and that would never do. The stage manager is best placed to look after the show, and won't be tempted to stick their thumb in the soup.
All you can do is write a certain amount, rehearse a certain amount, and leave the rest to chance. Exactly what that certain amount is, is up to you. You need to be comfortable, so you can raise the curtain without having a panic attack. It takes time to work out how comfortable you need to be.
Personally I've always liked sketching out the bare bones of the narrative and leaving the rest to the performance on the day, but then I've acted on stage since I was 15, done plenty of improv, and am comfortable performing. Your milage will vary.
So what do we know so far?
We know about the Antagonists.
We know this is Purist Dreamworld.
We know this is Kingsport, which means we have a certain amount of pre-written material we can slot in about Terrible Old Men and their peculiar ghosts, and houses up on high.
We know that the ultimate big bad is Cthulhu, attempting to create a critical mass of believers so it can break free.
We also know that the underlying plot point that pins all this together is dream logic. As described in the first post:
Let's say that this whole campaign takes place in the mind of someone who's going slowly insane. That the characters are aspects of this person's personality, fighting back against the horrors which are eating this person's soul. If they win, then the person wakes up - which means the characters die, fading away like dreams.
Of course, if they lose, then the person never wakes up.
That sounds pretty Purist to me. Further, it allows an extra little fillip: should a player character fall, then even if that character is replaced a section of the game world crumbles and becomes either less reliable than before, or downright dangerous. The loss of that portion of the personality = danger for the rest.
So this isn't real world Kingsport (assuming there is such a place). This is a dream version of that quaint little New England township. That means it doesn't have to conform to the version found in the written RPG guides, or Lovecraft's fiction. It can be just as odd as I like, and I like odd.
Remember, a CORE CONCEPT tree bears CORE CONCEPT fruit. Everything about the Setting needs to reflect Purist Dreamworld, and now's the time to think about what that looks like.
I find it helpful to divide the setting into Thematic and Quest elements.
Quest elements aren't automatically adventure locations; they can also be places the investigators need to go to find out more about the adventure locations. Libraries, forgotten chambers in long-abandoned chapels, that kind of thing. Places where they might find grimoires, sinister artwork or something else that will help them in the narrative. Those things will probably cost them Stability/Sanity too, but probably not a lot. No more than 3 points potential loss per Quest object, and ideally no more than 8-10 points overall spread between the group. You want them to feel tested, like they had to go to some trouble to get this stuff, but not so utterly trashed that they can't go on.
This may seem slightly high. After all, assuming a four person group with an average of 6 Stability each, 10 points Stability lost is close to 50% of their total. Remember, this is Purist. If it were Pulp, I might dial it down a bit. Purist is a rocky road; the investigators ought to pay a little extra for every potential benefit.
Also, don't forget you don't have to call for a Stability test if you don't want to. Or, if you feel you must, you don't have to ding the investigators more than a point if they fail. The players never get to see how the sausage is made.
I put it in terms of Stability and Sanity because, in Trail, those are the equivalent of Hit Points in any other RPG. Using a different ruleset I'd probably stick to the same ratio; that is, slightly less than 50% of the [Hit Point] total spent in Quest locations. Not that they have to lose that much, just that they ought to risk losing that much.
Thematic is exactly what it sounds like. Whatever this setting element may be, it fits the theme and so reinforces the theme. It doesn't have to lead to anything useful. It might, of course, but it doesn't have to. These are the in-game equivalent of the crazy person waving a sign that reads The End Is Nigh. At first you might dismiss that person; later, after one or two brushes with the uncanny, you may think they have a point. Later still, perhaps after you've lost a point of Sanity (remember, you don't get those back), you might realize that the sign doesn't read The End Is Nigh at all - and then you wonder what it really does say.
They Live (1988)
With all that in mind, and using the Rule of Four, what kind of Thematic and Quest Setting elements are there in Many Mansions?
Thematic:
Lightning and the Colonel a popular comedy radio show that airs every week on Thursdays. It stars Lightning, a clever but lazy employee at Wingate Boatyard, his long-suffering and slightly dim employer, the Colonel, and their extended families. It's set in Kingsport, and the action mirrors the investigators' actions. So, if last week the investigators went out to Pilot Island to find out more about the mysterious mists, then this week Lightning and the Colonel find themselves adrift near Pilot Island. This seems peculiar at first; it gets stranger, as the investigators realize they're the only ones who hear this broadcast. Everyone else thinks it's a completely different show, set in Milwaukee.
A horse-drawn Hearse, elaborately decorated is seen again and again around town. At first it's just background noise, something the investigators might notice while about their business. Still, it keeps showing up. The driver is sullen and uncommunicative, and under certain light the casket glows a peculiar green. How much business can one Hearse have? Why does it seem to be trailing the investigators?
Peculiar Whispers on the Telephone might just be a problem with the party line. These things happen. Yet why do these whispers seem somehow prophetic? When that woman says 'what a shame that poor woman died' why is it that the woman she talks about is named in the obituary column the very next day? What does it mean when that man repeats a phrase again and again? Who are these people, and why do they keep showing up on the party line no matter which telephone the investigators use?
Bellow's Cream Ale is locally brewed and very popular, particularly among fishermen. It's a little strong, and while hard-drinking watermen can down it in quantity and not collapse the average weedy investigator may find it rich for their blood. Investigators who get drunk have the most peculiar dreams, of a different time and place altogether. Very vivid dreams; almost as if they're living a different life. Oddly, it's always the same life, the same person. Even more oddly, though Bellow's is locally brewed, nobody seems to know where the brewery is.
Quest:
Mislow's Antiques in the Hollow is a known hangout of book thieves and other ne'er-do-wells. Mislow, an outsider who moved to Kingsport from New York in the 1920s, boasts that if it's in print he can get a copy, no matter how rare or whose library it's in. Mislow's a surly character, but investigators willing to take the time and play a few chess games with him get Mislow to open up a bit.
Saint Andrew's Shrine down near Harbourside's wharves is a good place to go if you want to hear fishermen's gossip. They don't open up easily around strangers, but folks willing to show Saint Andrew some respect earn their trust. Plus, every so often someone leaves peculiar offerings at the Shrine, offerings which might repay study. Where did those peculiar trinkets come from?
The Downtown Public Library is a good place to go for general knowledge, local history and other tidbits, and the librarian, Tredwell, knows a great deal for someone as young as he seems to be. He sometimes sounds more like a child of the 16th century than the 20th. If you want to know who's buried at that grave site, or who used to own that crumbling mansion, Tredwell is the one to talk to.
The Hilltown Artist's Colony is a good place to relax among liberal-minded types. You can talk here and let your guard down; nobody's going to be gossiping about you or spilling your secrets, Plus, some of the art these bohemians create seems relevant to your current investigation, and you're not sure why that should be. How do they know about the Green Foulness in the Hollow, or have any idea what's in those crumbling Mansions in West Town?
That's enough for this week. Next week, the final episode: Session Zero.
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