[This play report covers two sessions of our most recent adventure played with the forthcoming Helvéczia RPG. Like the previous similar post on this blog, the Capuchin, an infamous brigand leader, makes his appearance – but in different circumstances than the last time, and to an entirely new stable of characters. This excerpt goes more deeply into the magical and supernatural side of Helvéczia, and features a larger cast of characters, as well as a short dungeon expedition. There will be a more formal announcement with a preview of the game’s introductory chapter (and a few more things), but this introduction is as good as any.
Courtesy of
the author, Istvan Boldog-Bernad, I have provided a transcription of his
GM notes in a separate post: these are, of course, minimal notes (which Istvan
is a master of spinning into much larger adventures), but they should serve to
illustrate what follows below.
Once again,
unlike the game default, this campaign takes place in an alternate Catalonia,
in the year 1697. The Catalonian Republic is now a distant memory, but ruins
from the time of its suppression dot the countryside. Prince Franco’s forces,
dispatched by the court in Madrid, rule the coastal cities with an iron hand,
while the Saint Hernandad Society and the Inquisition scour the land looking
for rebels and heretics. Off the main roads, however, the law is weak, and the
grip of power very tenuous. Bandits, monsters, revolutionaries, hermits and
much stranger beings prowl the forests and mountains, and only good steel and a
brace of pistols can guarantee survival…]
Exactly two
months have passed since three adventurers routed the rapacious bandit leader and
defrocked clergyman, the Capuchin, and saved the damsel he had wanted to marry
in the mockery of a wedding ceremony. Our company has changed much in these
times: Jean-Fado de Béziers had retired to the small lakeside town of
Lagoscoro with a pretty widow, and the cheerful Little Juan Cordial had
joined his brother’s band of highwaymen and freedom fighters, while losing Rodrigo
Cordial, his oldest, Franciscan brother. Two more 6th level
characters (the highest in Helvéczia) followed them: Farkas Cserei,
the Transylvanian scholar had decided to return to his homeland, and Santiago,
the revenge-obsessed Aztec, had forgiven his defeated mortal enemy, and
disappeared from Migalloc (although some might suspect a pretty Gypsy girl had
played a role in this decision). It was
time for Álvar Díaz Garcia Vega de Valencia y Vivar, who has since claimed
the sword of El Cid, and become the greatest swordsman of Catalonia, to go his
own way. Leaving the great city of Migalloc, he parted from his companions, and
rode towards the estate of Don Santiago Serrano, where the cruel aristocrat was
known to keep slaves captured from the mountain villages.
The others pressed
on towards the ranges of the Picos del Bosque, where they had heard rumours of
an enchanted garden belonging to the mythical Hesperides. Diminished in
numbers, the company now included:
- Father Taddeo Previti, 5th level Italian Cleric, and a member of the Holy
Inquisition (yours truly);
- Gérard Pradas, 6th level Occitan Student, now in possession of the
game’s most formidable destructive spell, as well as an intelligent giant
parrot calling himself Jago, and a nest’s worth of giant raven
hatchlings (captured way back after the adventure with the Capuchin);
- Guiellmo Gallardo de Barcino, 1st/2nd level Catalan Duellist/Student, a
freethinker and pamphleteer recently returning from Engeland;
- Rupert van den Rosenfluyt, 3rd level Dutch Vagabond 3, a wandering botanist
looking for rare cultivars;
- Benito Cortizo de Soto, 2nd level Gallego Vagabond 2, a low-born scoundrel; and
- Luís Bartolomeu Lopes de Coimbra, 2nd level Portuguese Vagabond, a sailor following a
mysterious treasure map.
 |
| Into the Picos del Bosque |
On the forest
trail, the company found a camp of loggers clearing the forest. Inquiring about
the way to Altinadea, their intended destination, a woman stirring an
enormous cauldron of soup pointed them north: the village would be to the
north-west, but just a little way to the north, there would also be closer
shelter: the cloister of Saint Agnes. Father Taddeo immediately seized
on the opportunity, and guided the group towards the place, where they might
find a place to rest, and the father might learn useful spells. By mid-afternoon,
they had spotted a walled enclosure with vegetable gardens, side-buildings, and
a central structure. A dozen robed monks were outside in the fields, offering
friendly greetings. They were not nuns, as expected, but brothers; and they
welcomed the travellers, asking them to leave their mounts at the stables
before joining them in prayer.
Father Taddeo
happily led Eusebio, his donkey, to a manger, and returned to the brothers
who were already explaining the way to Altinadea to his companions.
“¡Manos
arriba! Hands in the air! You are now the prisoners of the Capuchin!” one of the monks shouted, levelling a blunderbuss at the party,
while a heavy-set, greying man in monks’ robes strode forward with something
that had previously seemed a rake, but was actually a concealed Lucerne hammer.
Multiple guns, and as many swords, were pointed at the party. The Capuchin
looked at the guests before him very carefully, but he recognised no one,
especially not those who had previously spoiled his wedding. Unfortunately for
the brigands, this was a party of six heavily armed and freshly rested
adventurers aching for a fight, and soon found themselves outclassed. They fled
in several directions; and the Capuchin shamefully beat a hasty retreat,
catching a bullet in his cuirass, and riding off on his horse amidst curses and
invective. The garden was entirely deserted.
From the large
building emerged two dozen nuns, who had been under siege from the concealed
brigands just when the newcomers arrived. Worse, one of them, Sister Agnes,
had disappeared. She was known to often wander off and seek out an abandoned
old house to the east for meditation, and perhaps she was still there. If the
fleeing bandits would get their hands on her, the consequences would be
terrible. The nuns also recommended caution, as there was rumoured to be a
large black dog living in the area, which came straight from Hell – and would
drag its victims down with it. Since sunset was approaching, time was of the
essence: the eastern mountain trail too narrow and treacherous for horses, the
company proceeded on foot through the thickets and forests.
***
The ruined house
was found by nightfall: it was dark inside, and there were signs of long
abandonment. A lonely owl sat ominously on a nearby tree branch. Seeing no
light but wary of an ambush, they approached and called out for those inside to
come out; but as there was no answer, they entered the ramshackle building. A
small eerie light illuminated the only room: a transparent, sad old man. Father
Taddeo raised, then lowered his cross: the apparition was not hostile. Indeed,
the spirit introduced himself as a Hermit who had lived in this small
house, but receiving no proper rites, could not go on to Heaven, and was stuck
wandering this world. Worse, the devil had stolen away his physical body,
making burial impossible. After questioning him further, it turned out the spirit
had seen Sister Agnes: and she, too, had just been seized by devils, and taken down
to Hell. Worse, she had drawn the interest of none other but Don García Deselvado,
one of the aristocrats of the infernal court, and the second highest-ranked in
Catalonia – below the mighty Don D himself! Don García had decided to
marry the pretty Agnes, and the wedding was set for tonight: all manner of
guests would present themselves at the high occasion.
“And how
might we follow in their tracks and save the worthy sister?” Gérard inquired.
“The black
dog runs at night! Go you to the crossroads, and follow if you dare!” spoke the apparition.
“Thank you,
oh noble spirit. We will try to recover your body as well.”
“Just remember!
He who goes to a wedding, should bring wedding presents!” whispered the pale lips.
 |
| The Black Dog Runs at Night |
Returning to the
crossroads the company had recently passed on their way to the abandoned house,
they sat down on the nearby rocks and waited. This was a strange place, for their
trail was narrow, and the one crossing it just seemed to disappear in both
directions after a short while. Hours passed and an unnatural cold settled on
the Picos del Bosque. From the dark woods came a blood-curdling howl, and an
enormous hound the size of a calf appeared from between the branches. The hound
looked over the characters with its bloodshot eyes and growled; then turned and
slowly ran towards the end of the crossroads.
“Don’t lose
it!” whispered Rupert van den Rosenfluyt,
and broke into a jog. They entered the forest on the trail of the beast,
through branch and bush, and passed a dark opening leading underground. Now
they were beneath the earth, and lit lanterns to see the cavern descend
downwards, their guide gone. There was a thick smell in the air, and the walls
were dark with soot. Here and there, sulphurous gasses hissed from cracks in
the walls. The black dog had not gone far, in fact: pressing on, they found
themselves before a pair of enormous wooden gates. The hound had settled itself
on a large pile of skeletal remains, and was busy gnawing on an enormous, juicy
bone.
“Well, here
we are – he gates of Hell. Are we sure we want to pay a visit?”
“Very sure.
Who is a bad boy?”
The dog growled,
but gave them no further heed. They opened the heavy portals, which swung
outwards to let out billowing smoke and the stench of sulphur. They entered,
and the gates closed behind them, to reveal a gallery of vividly painted
frescoes and plush couches. If this was indeed Hell, it was a remarkably
comfy part of it.
 |
| The Church of HELL |
On examination,
the frescoes proved to be tantalisings depiction of the seven cardinal sins. Benito
and Luís were lost in the study of two particularly fetching ones (having
failed their Temptation saving throws), and had to be dragged onwards. The next
chamber was an anteroom. Stairs descended downwards, while from forward came
the sounds of music of merrymaking through a heavy door. Opening it just a
crack, Benito Cortizo spied a room with about a dozen thin, spindly
apparitions of smoke resembling small devils, dancing to the tunes of unseen
musicians. Another door lead further on. After short discussion, Father
Taddeo suggested that Sister Agnes would probably be kept imprisoned, and she
might be found deeper down. Taking the stairs, they found themselves in a small
baptismal chapel, but it was a most unwholesome place: it was built
upside down, with pews and a font of dark water on the ceiling, and tiny
baskets hanging from ropes. There was a most unholy reek here.
“The water
does not pour down from the font! It is an unholy magic!” proclaimed Father Taddeo. “If we sanctify it with holy water and
good incense, the wedding may come to a bad end if it starts at all. Help me
stand on your shoulders so I can reach this...”
“I do not
like those baskets. We will stand ready with guns drawn.”
 |
| It is upside down, and EVIL! |
The elderly
father, blessed by vigour despite his advanced years (and 18 Dexterity!), climbed
and reached towards the dark liquid with a vial of holy water. There was a loud
*SCHLURP* as the “water”, a heavy gelatinous mass fell on the three characters
standing beneath. None were engulfed, and Don Guillelmo fought valiantly, but
the deadly pudding proved very strong, multiple characters were badly wounded, and
the company decided to flee back to the anteroom instead of fighting it in this
dead end.
“I have a
plan,” said Gérard Pradas. “I am good at
calligraphy: we will forge a letter of introduction to Don Deselvado from...
the arch-devil of Lust? Do you know a suitable name, Father?”
“That would
be Belphégor.”
“Splendid! Belphégor
will wish the newlyweds good fortune, and recommend that they consummate their
wedding night in the baptismal chapel, an auspicious sign for strong offspring.
We can turn that to our advantage, or at least delay the festivities.”
They proceeded
forward to the dancing room, carefully covering their ears to defend
from some sort of devilish music. The wispy smoke-devils were dancing happily,
and invited the wedding guests to join them. They didn’t know anything useful,
and weren’t interested in their letter, so the characters tried passing through
the dance floor, but the devil spirits were very ardent, and tried to drag them
into their wild frolic. Benito and Luís failed to save vs.
Temptation, and joined. A melee ensued to drag them away and destroy the
devils; they were dispatched, but Luís lay dead on the floor, his heart
stopped due to the heavy dancing. Searching the room, there was still no trace
of musicians, but someone had carelessly left a decorative walking stick worth
7 golden Escudos in a corner, as well as a lost pouch with 30 copper Maravedi,
and 90 silver Reals. Luís also had a treasure map on his person, which Don
Guillelmo dutifully pocketed.
The next door
was quiet, and the opposite side revealed a room piled with a mouth-watering
feast of juicy meats, piled fruits of known and unknown varieties, and
bottles of the most noble Tokaj wines – well known for their curative and
invigorating properties. [And among the Habsburgs, the wine of wedding nights!]
Spiral stairs descended downwards, and from a door further on came arguing
voices. On more careful scrutiny, the bottles of Tokaj were found to be
tampered with, and filled not with wine at all, but piss.
“Blasphemy!
Now I really believe we are in hell!” exclaimed
Father Taddeo. [This is where session one ended.]
Listening
through the keyhole of the next door, Rupert van den Rosenfluyt heard the
boisterous laughter of three card players.
“Twenty-one!”
“Devil take
you, you cheated!”
“It was a twenty-one!”
“You deal!”
“I hereby
wager the molar of Judas!”
“That’s a
fake too! Put up the real money!”
Rupert shrugged
and opened the door, while Father Previti melted into the shadows. The room
held a card table, around which two devils were playing cards with a
manacled prisoner for a large sum of coinage. The devils were friendly
enough, and encouraged anyone to sit down and play a hand. Their prisoner slid
to the side and hurriedly said, “Very good, and I liked the game too! But I
shall be going now, and let these fine gentlemen take a seat.”
“Wait just
now! You are not going anywhere. You have not wagered your soul yet!”
Father Taddeo
had heard enough. Someone’s salvation was at risk! He exclaimed from behind the
door:
“Do you know
what you are not expecting?”
The devils
shrugged dumbfounded, then one hollered back: “Your mother!”
“Yeah, your
mother!”
“Incorrect answer. The Italian Inquisition, that’s what! In nomine Patris et Fili et Spiritus Sancti!” yelled the father, charging the card players with his heavy staff. A short melee developed, and the devils found themselves completely outclassed and surrounded. One tried to flee, but was blocked by Father Taddeo and Don Guillelmo, and seeing this, they both surrendered. The miscreants proved slippery and tried to strike a bargain, but finally, when the father promised he would baptise both of them if they didn’t confess, they explained that the wedding was taking place downstairs, down in the main chapel.
“Now give back the money to that poor man you have dispossessed,” demanded the inquisitor.
“That’s robbery! It is our money, we swear!” they protested to no effect, as their winnings, were transferred at gunpoint to the company’s purses, half to the freed captive, and half split among the others. Two bottles of real Tokaji were also liberated; Don Guillelmo quickly took one. With this, the devils were ordeed to stay in the room, and Benito dutifully jammed the lock with some bent cutlery. Rupert unlocked the manacles of the former prisoner, who introduced himself as Miguel – he had just been playing cards at the inn in a far-away town in his native Castilia, and found himself in this room after blacking out from too much wine. The company was whole once again.
 |
| Miguel the Gambler |
Descending a
deep set of spiral stairs, they arrived at a corridor running left and right.
From the right came cacophonic organ music, and there seemed to be further
steps down; the other direction was more quiet, with occasional creaks or
squeaks.
“The chapel
is that way,” noted Rupert, leading by example.
Down the stairs, they came to an anteroom again, with a very large double
wooden gate. All kinds of blasphemous statues were carved on the inverted portal
(as everything is the opposite in Hell), and from beyond came the music and the
sounds of backwards Latin preaching. Very quietly, they opened the door, and
peered in, unnoticed by the wedding guests.
 |
| The Infernal Wedding |
This was a large, dark gothic hall, with statues of Judas, some ram-headed demon, and other illustrious evildoers. The congregation, a ragged host of miscreants and knaves, had their backs turned, and the adventurers quickly noticed the Capuchin and his surviving men – the brigand leader was in high spirits, loudly sharing tasteless jokes about the wedding night. On two sides of an altar, two grinning devils played pranks and sommersaults, while before it stood the bride and groom: the crying Sister Agnes, and a finely dressed, bespectacled arch-devil licking his lips in anticipation – Don García Deselvado! The don seemed to be playing a puppet with his left hand while holding the nun with his right, and the purpose of the strange act was soon clear: the priest, a lifeless old corpse reciting a litany of backwards Latin, was visibly controlled by several strings dangling from the ceiling.
 |
| Don García Deselvado |
Quickly taking
stock of the situation, everyone occupied their places. Father Taddeo cast the Stumble
spell on the entrance threshold to cover their flight, then crept in like a
shadow, hiding behind the statue of Judas, and looking around until he found
the source of the organ music – a balcony reached by some spiral stairs – that rare
Heavenly Choir spell he kept in mind might come in handy. Don Guillelmo
and Benito hid close to the portal, readying guns, while Gérard retrieved something
from his pockets. Miguel, taking the forged letter of introduction,
stepped forward, and the devils by the altar immediately noticed him, beckoning
to the new guest. Swallowing, Miguel stepped forward, and bowed before Don Deselvado,
presenting the letter. The don nodded and pocketed the letter.
“It is from Don
Belphégor, my Lord, and it concerns your wedding night! Aren’t you going to
read it?” Miguel inquired.
Don Deselvado cast
an irritated glance at the Spaniard, but relented, and, continuing his
puppetry, handed Sister Agnes to the newcomer for a moment while unrolling the
parchment. He scanned the message quickly, then spoke: “That’s all good.
Give him some drink for his troubles.”
The two devils
made Miguel chug a large bottle of brandy, gaily explaining: “Oh, this is
Hell, amigo! We do everything backwards. The happy wedding has already been
consummated!”
Miguel, coughing
from the alcohol, glanced back at the portal, and showed a quick sign. He lunged
forward, seizing Sister Agnes and yanking her on the floor as a volley of fire
cut across the temple. Don Deselvado was hit with a bullet from Benito’s gun,
but remained standing, and held on to his half of the nun. Father Taddeo, who
had meanwhile snuck up to the organist’s nest and positioned himself behind him,
seized the hapless devil and hurled him down from the balcony, breaking his
neck on the stone floor. Don Deselvado tried to pull Agnes back, rolling a very
high score, but Miguel rolled a natural 20, and jumped with her towards a
northern archway, leading to an upwards staircase. All Hell broke loose in the
Church of Hell, and Gérard Pradas chose this moment to throw the egg of
a black rooster, procured through unholy practices and fermented for weeks in
manure and sulphur, at the congregation, while speaking Latin words. The Fireball
detonated in the midst of the agitated wedding guests. Don Deselvado was
hurled back but mostly unhurt, but the Capuchin was torn limb from limb
along with his men, and the surrounding revellers and the two sommersaulting
devils. Further detonations came from the Capuchin’s grenades, and there was a
tremendous racking sound as the ceiling shook and caved in, burying the centre
of the church, and separating the company.
Father Taddeo
stood up, still reeling. From the northern door came Miguel. Don Deselvado,
seeing he was in peril, fled through a door to the west, abandoning the stunned
Agnese. Knowing that raising the alarms would not do them much good, Father
Taddeo reached for the last resort: his trusty Bible, which he opened at a
random passage, and read aloud:
“Book of
Ruth, 4:4! ‘No sooner had Boaz gone up to the gate and sat down there than the
next-of-kin, of whom Boaz had spoken, came passing by. So Boaz said, “Come
over, friend; sit down here.” And he went over and sat down. Then Boaz took ten
men of the elders of the city, and said, “Sit down here”; so they sat down.”
To his horror,
Don Deselvado found himself unable to move, compelled by the Good Book to stay
where he was. Father Taddeo advanced with an ugly look in his eyes.
“Don García Deselvado,
for your deeds against this innocent sister, I shall do the worst thing to you
that I can inflict upon you. I shall baptise you.” and
he took out the holy water, the incense, and raised his Bible. Don Deselvado
emitted a pitiful cry, and pleaded for mercy, offering vast riches and infernal
powers, but the father baptised him, and the arch-devil was burned into a pile
of ashes.
***
 |
| Safe Puzzle |
The company was
divided by the collapsed rubble, and it would have taken several hours to dig
through, an appalling prospect. It was decided that each half would try to
return to the surface through some way, and rejoin when possible. Rupert, Don
Guillelmo, Benito and Gérard had a known route, but before the Father, the
shaken and badly shocked Sister Agnes, and Miguel, there were only unknown
passages. Miguel scouted ahead while Father Taddeo comforted Agnes as he could,
using his healing to heal her wounds, and the last of a blessed relic, the handkerchief
of Saint Lucia, to wipe her brow. Sister Agnes somewhat regained her
faculties. Miguel returned: he had found a rich bedroom with Don Deselvado’s
giant portrait hiding a puzzle safe he could not crack, but no way forward. The
passage went on, but was too dark without a light source. After a brief
discussion, they decided to try the spiral stairs leading up from the church.
Deducing that the dead, strangely mummified body of the priest controlled by
the Don had once belonged to the Hermit, they carried the cadaver with them.
Meanwhile, the
larger part of the company retraced their steps to the feasting room, still
hearing the devilish card-players from behind the door, guessing whether it was
safe to come out. By approximate measures, the baptismal chapel was
somewhere above the Church of Hell – might there be a secret door they had
overlooked while fleeing from the pudding? They returned, hoping the
monster has returned to the font on the ceiling. Unfortunately, it did not: it pounced
on the characters, and with one slurping sound, swallowed Gérard Pradas,
who was now struggling mightily to get it off with his remaining spells before
getting devoured. A secret door opened, and Father Taddeo, Sister Agnes, and Miguel
stepped into the chapel, joining the melee.
“Nobody
expects the Italian Inquisition! Now begone, you infernal aspic!” the Father tried to exorcise [turn] the pudding, to no effect. The
fight continued, and even Sister Agnes joined in with a torch to avenge the
wrongs done to her. The gelatinous horror was defeated, the gambler Miguel
striking the last blow. Rupert van den Rosenfluyt was unconscious, and the
others were badly wounded, Gérard at a single hit point. Worse, the father’s
attempts at medicine almost ended up killing Gérard, who passed out from the
pain, and was ony saved by the last healing spell, while Rupert had to be
resusciated with a swig of Tokaj wine.
There was one
last challenge before leaving this hellish place. The outside gate was guarded
by the Black Dog, and obviously, it would not allow them to pass outside
as easily as inside. Rupert had brought a large bone from the feasting table,
while Father Taddeo again reached for his Bible. Unfortunately, the growling
hound did not care for the scrap of old meat, and when the Bible was opened to
a New Testament verse, the passage had no relevance for the situation. The Black
Dog stood up and attacked, while Don Guillelmo heroically tried to hold
it back. It breathed a cone of fire, and while none died, Gérard was at -4 Hp
again (one shy of death), and everyone was badly hurt. Miguel muttered a curse
and threw the mummified body of the Hermit at the creature: “Go chew on
this!” He turned and fled with Gérard on his strong back, quickly followed
by Father Taddeo, and then the others, Don Guillelmo being the last to head for
the surface...
***
EPILOGUE:
Returning to the Cloister of Saint Agnes, the nuns were overjoyed to see
the return of their lost Sister, thanking the adventurers profusely. They, in
turn, decided to stay until Sunday, and enjoy the hospitality. Father Taddeo
continued with his doctoral work, “A Most Useful Treatise on Deviltry &
Other Sins, with Practical Applications towards their Expurgation Through the
Element of Surprise”. He also gained easy permission to memorise the spells
found at the cloister: from the first level, Bless and The Bountiful
Herbarist; and from the second, Protective Circle and Withdraw
Poison. Rupert van den Rosenfluyt and Gérard Pradas, who found
their adventure a little too virtuous, tried to pick up a few comelier nuns
with honeyed words and roguish charm, in which Rupert easily beat his rival for
the attentions of one Sister Margarethe. “And that is how we do it with your
colonies, too,” remarked the crafty Dutchman, which only shows us the wickedness
of Godless Calvinism.
 |
| Watch out, sin! |
As for Miguel
Hernandez, the freshly freed gambler, he was soon at the card table again
with Gérard and Don Guillelmo. Noting the sinful activity, Father Previti
watched it for a while, then asked if he could join in memory of his young days
at Seminary. The stakes were high – two golden Escudos each, winner takes it
all. To everyone’s surprise, in a company of professional card sharks and
scoundrels, the elderly inquisitor came out on top, sweeping 8 Escudos into his
purse – a nice sum to finance the publication of his doctoral theses. Was it blind
luck? [A natural 20] That ineffable Italian magic? [Indeed, Italians are lucky
at dice and cards, receiving +2 on their Gambling rolls.] Or was Father
Previti’s 18 Dexterity at play? On this matter, the angels are stubbornly
silent. We can only say that on Monday, the 8th of May Anno Domini
1697, the company was mounted again, riding northwest towards the mountain village
of Valfogona, a place known for a ruined mill, a few abandoned manor
houses, and the fiendish Comte Arnau, whose horse was known to eat the
odd peasant, and who had infamous assembled a collection of kidnapped wives.
TO
BE CONTINUED
Designer
commentary: This long session report is a fairly an
accurate recapitulation of what Helvéczia intends to deliver: fast-paced,
colourful, and hazardous adventures in a fantastic paraphrasis of
historical Europe, drawing liberally from swashbuckling stories, odd legends,
folk tales, and modern fantasy alike. It is not a serious study in
historiography, nor an exercise in physical or social realism. Instead of
grimdark – a tone that I have long felt to be creatively exhausted – its tone mixes
picaresque adventure, romance, low comedy and a grotesque element. It does not
shy away from the dark side of late 17th century Europe, but it is
not a catalogue of atrocities; rather, it is a celebration of a certain time
and its people. As such, it has a touch of the strange and alien: it is firmly rooted
in the pre-Enlightment mindset, of deeply held religious conviction, military
virtue and obstinately held tradition, but also relentless social climbing, low-class
mischief, and an interest in the lives of extraordinary scoundrels and
never-do-wells (the player characters). Is it fun? We think so.
 |
Luís Bartolomeu Lopes
de Coimbra: By the Time
You Remember His
Name, He is Dead |
The two sessions
also reflect the system’s workings and the campaign dynamic. The scale of power
is limited: characters usually begin on the 2nd level (although Little
Juan had been a simple servant boy who had climbed all the ranks almost to
the top), and players, NPCs, and monsters are limited to 6th level –
but this achievement is quite a rarity in the game setting. A capable band can
accomplish much, but always has to watch out for a stroke of misfortune, or the
consequences of a bad decision (as the case of Luís demonstrates). There is no level scaling in Helvéczia,
and none of the released adventures bear a level designation: a group of
freshly rolled characters can try to tackle them just as well as seasoned hands
– and as in the great picaresques, Fortune is a fickle mistress!
We could see the
forms of magic at play, and their differences: Father Taddeo would
memorise his spells at the churches and convents he visits (always doing his
best with a limited and ever-changing repertoire), while Gérard Pradas
would have to procure rare magical components for his spells, which he has
obtained from rare manuscripts and copied into a spellbook. (I do not know how
he obtained that egg for the rare and supremely useful Fireball even as
a player, although I am starting to have ideas about those giant raven
hatchlings he carts around on the journey...) We could also see a use of the
Holy Bible as a last-resort saving mechanic; but not its counterpart, involving
a deck of cards and bets against the Devil himself; nor a third, very hazardous
random table for those cases where nothing helps and you must seize the last
shred of hope.
As for adventure
design, these sessions combined a wilderness expedition with dungeoneering. Helvéczia
tends to have relatively small dungeons (although this is relative – the first
supplement, to be included with the boxed set and also sold separately, has a
much larger one), and in general, has an emphasis for situation-based mini-adventures
which it calls “penny dreadfuls”. Wilderness expeditions and strange things in backwoods
areas are of a particular interest, which also feature heavily in the Catalonia
campaign – we have by now explored much of the south-western quadrant of the
hex map, and our travels have brought us to its central areas. Helvéczia has
a high interest in wilderness adventures, either as overland hex-crawls, or
localised point-crawls describing a smaller area.
The Infernal Wedding (Helvéczia Mini-Adventure) (PDF, 1 MB)
The Infernal Wedding (original scanned notes in the Hungarian) (PDF, 2 MB)
