Other Text Role-Play Gaming

Wed, 14th November, 2018 - 10:35 am GMT

What Are Other RPGs?

Ever felt like you were not where you should be? RPGs that are not limited to a certain style or rules fit an "Other" category. For instance someone may start an RPG where all the participants have to reply in poetry. Think that is unusual? What about an RPG where each player decides if their character wins or loses a battle simply by saying so? All of these exist - once you can imagine it, you can make it come alive in the Community.
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About Other Text Gaming

Here are some examples of unconventional RPGs based on Themes or systems that are custom or wholely thought up by the author:

Cozyville RPG
A real estate / family RPG using both a script and PBP method.

Gwynedd RPG
No dice or combat - purely gossip in a medieval setting.

Trini RPG
No dice or combat - purely 'talk' in a Caribbean setting.

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Blackerly simply ignores Eva. Upon hearing Kiven's jibes, Blackerly backhands the young man, hard, sending him sprawling to the floor. "You're the son of nothing now brat, and the only reward you have to offer is a place in chains beside you." Jesla's challenge provokes a different response. He puts on a stern expression, trying to look bored, but it isn't hard to see that she has rattled him. His next expression is that of relief as Respar speaks up again, though his words certainly fail to convey gratitude, "Shut up! You don't get to ask questions here!"

The priest beside the sergeant has a disgusted look on his face as he watches the senior guard's antics. He says to Respar, "In spite of the sergeant's… enthusiasm, your final sentence has yet to be assigned. That judgement falls to the high magistrate, Lord Solomon Tyrath. He should be arriving tomorrow. It is not unknown for him to grant mercy to those who show contrition for their crimes, granting a lesser sentence. I would urge you to repent in the light of Mitra." Blackerly growls, "Mercy? For this lot? It'l never happen." A new voice says, "That is not for you to decide."

The guards look quite surprised to see a young elf in regal robes and a haughty manner enter the chamber. He ignores everyone else in the room as he walks up to Kiven Aloro, "I had thought better of you Kiven, father did as well. How could you throw it all away?"

Kiven rolls his eyes as his brother enters the chamber and does not move from where he is seated. He does respond, however, without bothering to look at his brother just yet. "You thought of one other than yourself? Surely you jest. Have you come to tell jokes? I never did find you to be as funny as the giggles of those dim admirers of yours would suggest."

"Of course I think of you, and whatever problem you have with me, surely it was not worth… this." Looking at Eya, the newcomer continues, "This must be the hellspawn that talked you into this sin. Did she offer you her body?" His lips curl with disgust, "I could have introduced you to someone if you were that desperate."

A sinister smile just grows on Kiven's face and the distain for his brother is palpable. "Would she have had a single thought in her pretty little head? I know the type you like, Ty. I'd think it hard to find followers even more dim witted than yourself, but, impressively I'll admit, you do seem to find them in droves, don't you? I wouldn't have thought it possible. Anyhow, you simply wouldn't understand, dear brother. You lack the drive and discipline to expand upon your powers and take our family towards it's rightful place in the realm. But what am I saying, you, the great Tyris Aloro, are the swineherd of THIS fine place. BRA-VO. A life well spent indeed."

The concerned look disappears, anger creeping onto Tyris' face, "You know as well as I the significance of this posting. As to taking the family anywhere, you've brought shame on us all. It will take years for father to recover from this disgrace, if he ever does."

"Yes, yes, VERY impressive, and I love what you've done with the place. A mountain of filth with a bit of the stench of death on top? I have always liked your style, Ty. Perhaps over the next few centuries you could become lord of a second prison even, oh or become a slaver, perhaps? DO make us all very proud, would you? What was it you were saying about shame and the family legacy again?" At that he looks around at the interior of the prison with disgust. "Even locked in a cell I'm still our best shot, and somewhere in there the boy who could barely comprehend basic evocation for a good decade there knows it, doesn't he?"

"So it was your pride then." Tyris shakes his head, "Always that damn stubborn Pride. You never did learn that earning a place requires more than just ability. Well it is too late now, father cannot protect you, and neither can I. You will not last long in the salt mines brother, it would be kinder I think to end your life now."

"Yes in fact it requires no ability at all, it would seem. Lucky for you, dear brother. Do not worry, you WILL see me again."

Tyris' face hardens, "No I will not. This is goodbye. My brother will cease to exist in a moment. In the unlikely event that I see a face resembling yours again, it will be born by a wretched forsaken, forever cast out of the light of Mitra. I had hoped that you would see these last moments with your kin as a chance to regret and repent, perhaps earn some mercy in the final judgement. But it seems that I was a fool to hope for anything out of you in the end."

"Yes, weakness and a a lack of conviction would be your first instinct, wouldn't it. How inspiring you are, favored son of Aloro."

Tyris snarls briefly before regaining control, "Enough of this. Blackerly, do the teifling first. And make sure the brand is almost white hot when you do it, her filthy hide will be difficult to burn."

The priest raises his hands and begins to intone, "Great Mitra, these four have betrayed your light, and thus we cast them into shadow. May you show mercy upon their souls in the next life, for we have none left to spare… "The priest drones on and on about Mitra's greatness, his love, strength, and mercy, and all the many ways the prisoners before him have fallen short of the god's ideals.

Even the guards who seemed enthralled at first by the priest's eulogy are a bit glassy eyed towards the end. The priest names the four prisoners Forsaken, and performs a final blessing over the brand in the fire.

The next few minutes are filled with pain. One by one, each prisoner is forced to the table before the brazier, strong arms holding them in place and their arm out to receive their brand. The mark burned into their left forearm is a runic "F", forever identifying them as one of the forsaken. The guards have to work the brand into Eya's arm to leave a proper mark, and it takes eight men to hold Jesla still enough to get her branded properly, but soon enough, the deed is done.

One by one, you are branded. One by one, you are taken through a door in the back of the room and led upstairs to a cell. Jesla is taken last, so that she can be guarded more heavily while on the move

Most of your heavy chains are removed, leaving a pair of wrist manacles chained to the wall. All four of you are chained in the same cell, although the length of the chains is only sufficient to reach each other if both are trying. Eya and Kiven still have their heavy locked gauntlets on, to help prevent spellcasting.

The guards lock the door to the cell and retreat outside. Most of them disappear, presumably to posts elsewhere, or to go off duty. Three remain, they have a seat at a table far down the hall, although they still have line of sight on you should they care to look.

The space you are in is dark and damp, one guttering torch was left to light the space. Near your cell appears to be another, this one more stonework than bars. You don't have a view of what, if anything, is within.

Out of Character: Cinder and I worked out the exchange between Tyris and Kiven in advance.

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