Category: Storytelling

  • Such Sights to Show You (Comedy-Horror Short Story)

    Such Sights to Show You (Comedy-Horror Short Story)

    Such Sights to Show You

    hellraiser, lament, box, render, movie, horror, puzzle, gray movie, gray puzzle, gray horror, gray box, hellraiser, hellraiser, hellraiser, hellraiser, hellraiser, lament

    Brian Shipley’s apotheosis into a being of eternal, geometric torment was, on the whole, a rather tidy affair. The artisans of the flesh, for all their talk of chaos and the rending of souls, had been considerate enough to put down dust sheets. It was a small detail, but it was the sort of thing Brian appreciated.

    The experience itself was a bit like listening to an avant-garde orchestra where the first violin was playing a violent concerto of agony on your nervous system, while the percussion section enthusiastically tenderized your soul with mallets made of pure unadulterated bliss. It was confusing, transcendent, and frankly, a bit ticklish, especially when they got to the part with the skin.

    And when the music finally faded, Brian looked down and saw the result. Oh! That’s where his skin had gone. It had been peeled back with the loving care of a master chef preparing a particularly prized fruit, then lacquered and re-stitched with gilded wire. Previously internal organs were now external, arranged in a pleasingly symmetrical pattern on his torso, and a hook on a long chain was embedded in his left palm. It was all very artistic.

    The problem was… now what?

    The Arcane Seamstress, a rather grand figure with a voice like a cello being played in a crypt, had just finished the final stitch. It had leaned in close and whispered, “Now, you are one of us. Go. Explore the furthest regions of experience. We have such sights to show you!”

    Then it had vanished in a swirl of black leather and theatrical smoke, leaving Brian standing in a hallway that seemed to be paved with groaning flagstones.

    “Right,” Brian said to the empty air. “Explore. Fine. But which way is HR?”

    There was no answer, save for a distant, soulful scream that was probably part of the ambient noise budget. Brian sighed, a sound that whistled a bit through his newly exposed ribcage. He shuffled aimlessly in place.

    He looked at the hook in his hand. Was he supposed to polish it? Was there a designated hook-sharpening station, or was it a bring-your-own-whetstone situation? No one had mentioned it in the orientation, which, now that he thought about it, had been less of an orientation and more of a prolonged kink session. Not that he minded in the moment.

    He began to walk. The Labyrinth, he quickly discovered, was less a mind-bending maze of eternal torment and more a poorly-signposted industrial park. Corridors twisted back on themselves, archways led to identical archways, and the air hummed with a low-level dread that felt suspiciously like faulty fluorescent lighting.

    He passed a Cenobite meticulously polishing the pins in its own head with a small swatch of velvet, muttering about tarnish and refusing to acknowledge Brian. Another, draped in chains, was trying to untangle itself from a third who had apparently made too sharp a turn. Brian wondered if that was a common workplace hazard and resolved to put up some warning signs once he was onboarded.

    Trying to backtrack and try another way, he came across some poor soul left behind mid-torture, screaming with a kind of profound existential boredom that was far more chilling than simple pain. Brian muttered as he hurried on, “Well someone should get a writeup for that. You can’t just go around leaving important projects half-finished and expect someone else to pick up the slack!”

    A strange, pleasant tingling started in his hook hand, an insistent little twitch that seemed to be pulling him back towards the screaming. He ignored it, with the same determined effort it took to ignore a ringing phone during dinner. After wandering for maybe days, he finally saw a creature of immense gravitas with its lips sewn shut. It nodded at him, almost friendly, and Brian’s heart visibly leapt with excitement.

    “Excuse me,” Brian said, trying to sound polite. It was difficult to gauge the correct tone when you were wearing your own pancreas as a brooch. “Yeah, sorry to bother you, friend. I’m new. I was just wondering where I’m supposed to report?”

    The creature stopped. It communicated only through portentous slow gestures. After a series of movements that seemed to be some sort of elaborate introduction, it slowly bowed. Then it raised a single, bloodless bone finger, pointed it at Brian’s chest, then at its own silent mouth, and finally towards the ceiling, as if solemnly indicating the location of the executive washroom, or possibly a horrible truth that lay beyond mortal ken. Brian decided to bet on the washroom.

    “Right,” Brian said. “So, that’s up, is it? Is there a lift?”

    The creature just shook its head with an air of profound disappointment and glided away.

    This, Brian was learning, was a common theme. Everyone he asked for directions just offered him a pithy, ominous-sounding catchphrase or some interpretive dance. He’d been told that “There is no escape, only sensation,” “Your suffering will be legendary,” and “We’ll tear your soul apart,” all of which were singularly unhelpful when all you wanted was to find out about your pension plan.

    (There was, in fact, a pension plan, but it was notoriously difficult to enroll in. It required you to sacrifice your eternal hope, which most new recruits had already misplaced somewhere during the initial flaying.)

    Eventually, he stumbled into a chamber that looked suspiciously like an administrative office. A long queue of tormented souls, clutching various bits of their own anatomy, snaked away from a desk carved from obsidian and bone. Behind the desk sat a creature made entirely of stitched-together scrolls of human skin. A small, neatly carved sign on the desk read: THE REGISTRAR.

    Brian got in line. After an eternity or two, he reached the front.

    THE REGISTRAR ruffled itself angrily, “Why are you in a line for the tormented?”

    Brian cleared his throat, an echo of dry leaves skittering over bone. “Oh, I uh, was tormented? But the orientation wasn’t very clear.”

    “Oh for fff…” THE REGISTRAR’s papery form seemed to curl in on itself with pure disdain and hissed, “New staff?” It took a moment, as if consulting an internal manual on dealing with idiots, before its voice flattened into a monotonous drone. “You are a holy angel of suffering, an avatar of unfathomable sensation, the tormented are beneath you except for your tender ministrations, blah blah blah and so on.”

    “Right, okay, so I was hoping you could help…”

    “Name?” THE REGISTRAR interrupted, without looking up from the paperwork it suddenly turned its attention to.

    “Brian Shipley. I have a library card to prove it.”

    “Configuration?”

    “Sorry?”

    “Your Configuration,” THE REGISTRAR said as though exercising divine-tier immense patience. “The specific arrangement of your flesh and torments. Are you a Tier 3 ‘Visceral Geometer’? A Class B ‘Epidermal Artisan’? I can’t assign you a damnation sector without a Configuration Code.”

    “No one gave me one,” Brian said, pausing uncomfortably. “They just gave me this hook.”

    THE REGISTRAR looked up, disgusted. “No Configuration Code? Did you even fill out Form 37B, ‘Declaration of Final Agony’?”

    “I don’t have a Form 37B.”

    “Well, you can’t get a Configuration Code without a 37B,” THE REGISTRAR sighed. “Next!”

    “But how do I get a 37B?” Brian pleaded.

    “From your assigned sector supervisor, of course,” THE REGISTRAR said, turning to the next soul in line. “Name?”

    It was at that precise moment that a bell chimed. A strange, insistent pulling sensation emanated from his navel, which was now located somewhere near his left shoulder. The world dissolved.

    He materialized, with a sound like tearing silk, in a dusty attic on Earth. A teenager with bad skin and a t-shirt for a band Brian had never heard of was staring at him, his hand still on a small, ornate puzzle box.

    “Whoa,” the teenager breathed. “It… it actually worked. I am ready to know the pleasures, demon. I have such sights to…”

    Brian, acting on an instinct he didn’t know he possessed, flicked his wrist. The hook didn’t just fly, it danced. It unspooled its chain with the glee of a released spring, performing a delightful little pirouette around a dangling lightbulb for pure showmanship. The summoner laughed, clapping his hands with naive glee.

    The hook embedded itself in the teenager’s chest with a surprisingly gentle thump. The boy, instead of screaming, let out a delighted gasp. “Yes! More!”

    Brian stared, overwhelmed by the awkwardness of the moment. This wasn’t in any user manual he could imagine. He gave the chain a tentative awkward tug, like trying to start a lawnmower he suspected was haunted.

    In response, the teenager’s left arm twisted gracefully, bones softening and reshaping themselves into an elegant spiral of flesh that ended in a gently weeping eyeball. A part of Brian’s new consciousness began to hum with a warped artistic joy. It was beautiful! The lines! The symmetry!

    “Oh, dear,” said the other, much larger part of his brain, the part that still worried about tracking mud on the carpet. “You’ve voided his warranty. And you don’t even have a 37B!”

    “Is this it? Is this, is this the pleasure?” the boy gurgled, as his other arm began to unravel into a ribbon of skin.

    “Right! Yes! Well, uh, almost!” Brian stammered, jiggling the chain in a panic. “Just needs a bit of… calibration!”

    The jiggling was a mistake. The boy’s torso blossomed open like a carnivorous flower, his ribs curling into delicate, ivory petals around a chorus of singing lungs. The sight was breathtaking. The sound was quite like a bunch of soggy poundcakes having an orgy. The mess was unbelievable. Brian berated himself for forgetting the dust sheets.

    He felt a wave of pure sublime ecstasy warring with a tidal wave of profound discomfort. He was an artist! He was a vandal! He touched the sublime! He had definitely violated at least three interdimensional health and safety codes! He knew he would be held liable for this, he just knew it.

    Overwhelmed, Brian simply dropped the chain. The hook, apparently sensing the overwhelming incompetence of its new user, retracted with an air of immense disappointment. It neatly folded the singing, weeping, spiraling boy back into a shape that was roughly human-sized. Then it hesitated a moment, as thought waiting for some sign from Brian that would never come, before discourteously compressing him into a dense cube of shrieking flesh and artistic regret.

    Brian sighed and fumbled with the chain, accidentally twisting the condensed teen like a meaty Rubik’s Cube. The hook almost shrugged in frustration, taking over to whisk the once-boy through the portal. It vanished with the finality of a bent and rusting filing cabinet being slammed shut.

    Brian stepped out of the attic, the portal sealed behind him. On the street corner, he saw one of the Labyrinth’s designated caretakers. He knew this instinctively, though the man’s profound haggardness and aura of cosmic seediness were also fairly large clues. Brian walked over and tossed him the puzzle box.

    “Your problem now,” he said.

    The man just nodded sagely, as though they shared an unspeakable secret, before slinking away into the shadows.

    Brian stopped for a moment looking around, unsure of what to do before aimlessly walking away. He turned a corner and saw the cheerful twinkling lights of an ice cream van. He got in line. As he was handed his cone, a young woman in black lipstick and an ankh necklace approached him, her eyes wide with reverence.

    “You… you are one of them!” she whispered. “I can feel it!”

    Brian felt even more uncomfortable than with his first victim in the attic. Her gaze was hungry and, to his own horror, he liked it. “Oh, uh, hello.”

    “Please show me! Show me such sights!”

    Brian took a thoughtful bite of his ice cream. “Sights?” He gave a short, hollow laugh that whistled a bit through his ribcage. “Lady, I haven’t even been assigned a cubicle yet.”

    The young woman didn’t hear him. She was cooing at his artfully arranged organs, fascinated by their glistening gleam and the weave of the golden thread.

    He gestured vaguely with his hook. “The last ‘sight’ I tried to show someone ended up… well, let’s just say it wasn’t up to code. A lot of screaming, very non-compliant organ placement.”

    He looked the woman up and down, a flicker of his newfound artistic joy warring with his innate sense of mild panic. “Tell you what. You find me Form 37B, and maybe we can talk. Until then,” he took another bite of ice cream, “I’m on my lunch break.”

    He turned and walked away before she could react. He was aware of the young woman’s frustration behind him, like a pleasant static crackle against his new senses. He found, to his profound alarm, that he didn’t dislike it.

    But his attention was immediately hijacked by the drip of his cone. He stared at the tiny black fleck of vanilla suspended in the melting cream on his lacquered flesh. It looked… lonely. It looked like an unfiled report. He suddenly had a terrible, wonderful idea for a new kind of art, a filing system that combined suffering, dairy, and a highly efficient system for tracking lamentations in triplicate. It would be a truly beautiful sight, he thought. Such a sight to show!

    woman, fire, hell, hell, hell, hell, hell, hell

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  • Mastering Intrigue: Crafting Suspense and Tension in TTRPGs

    Mastering Intrigue: Crafting Suspense and Tension in TTRPGs

    This entry is part 4 of 7 in the series TTRPG Advice

    Handling Intrigue in Tabletop RPGs with Trackers, Tags, and Motif Rolls

    A classic noir scene with a detective taking notes in a dimly lit bar, emphasizing mystery and intrigue.

    Political intrigue in tabletop role-playing games (TTRPGs) is often one of the most challenging genres to run. Balancing complex relationships, shifting loyalties, and a web of lies and secrets can quickly overwhelm a Game Master (GM), especially if they’re working with intricate mechanics. But by using tools like trackers, reputation tags, and flavored Motif (dice label) rolls, the GM can keep things manageable while maintaining depth. These tools streamline the process, leaving space for creativity, and they can be enhanced by psychological tricks commonly used in carnival performances, sales, and psychic illusions.

    Reputation Tags: Simple but Powerful Tools

    Reputation tags are one of the easiest and most effective ways to track political relationships and intrigue. These tags act as simple labels tied to key NPCs, factions, or even locations, and they help both players and the GM keep track of how different relationships evolve without the need for complicated stat blocks or excessive notes. They are shorthand reminders of where key figures stand in relation to the players or each other.

    Reputation tags can represent a wide range of social dynamics: loyalty, suspicion, enmity, or favor, among others. A few examples of reputation tags might include:

    • “Rival (Political Power)” – Signifying a competitor within a power struggle.
    • “Debt Owed” – Referring to an NPC or faction that owes a favor or service.
    • “Allied (For Now)” – A temporary alliance or fragile partnership.

    These dynamic labels can be easily updated based on the evolving narrative, making them extremely valuable in a game of political intrigue where relationships and allegiances are constantly shifting. The simplicity of these tags means that instead of spending valuable time and energy on complex relationship mechanics, you have an intuitive system that quickly tells you the status of key interactions in the campaign.

    • Why it works: The appeal of reputation tags lies in their simplicity. You reduce potentially complex webs of relationship mechanics into easy-to-read shorthand that allows everyone at the table to understand the current dynamics at a glance. This allows for quick decisions and seamless interactions between players and NPCs without bogging down the story with unnecessary details.

    Trackers: Visualizing Tension and Progress

    Trackers are a fantastic tool for visualizing and managing the evolving tension in a game of intrigue. Much like reputation tags, trackers simplify complex, ongoing developments. These can take many forms, whether they are conspiracy clocks showing the progress of a secret plot or trust meters that gauge how much faith an NPC or faction has in the players. Trackers provide a visual cue that lets everyone, especially the GM, easily see how things are progressing, and they keep the tension alive without needing to micromanage every detail.

    One of the main benefits of trackers is that they provide an instant visual reference, helping everyone at the table stay focused on key plot points. For example, in a political intrigue campaign, you could have a tracker to show how much time remains before a secret rebellion is discovered, or a trust meter tracking how far players have moved in an NPC’s favor (or how quickly they are losing it).

    • Why it works: Trackers take advantage of visual salience, where the physical progression of a tracker visually communicates how much time, tension, or momentum has passed. This makes it easy for players to see how close they are to a major reveal or event, building anticipation. It’s like the psychological tricks used by performers and magicians: by using a simple tool that gradually shifts, you build suspense, and it encourages the players to engage with the plot actively. With this tool, GMs can focus on storytelling and improvisation, without needing to stress about keeping track of every minor detail in the background.

    Flavored Motif Rolls: Adding Depth to Simplicity

    Flavored Motif rolls (using dice labels to add depth and meaning to rolls) allow GMs to keep the gameplay simple yet rich. In essence, a dice roll is flavored by the narrative context, resulting in more dynamic and meaningful outcomes without needing complex rule systems.

    For example, a roll to determine the context for how a character’s persuasion attempt plays out might use dice labels like Reputation (how much the player’s reputation plays a part), Mood (how good, or bad, of a mood the NPC is in), and Politics (how much the political context and considerations play into their response). Or for another intrigue context where the PCs are attempting to covertly spy on a rival group, you might use the flavored roll of Attention (how alert the security staff is), Evidence (how much evidence there is to clean up or left behind), and Luck (how lucky the timing is with how busy or distracted the group is at the time).

    In political intrigue, where emotions like suspicion, trust, and fear run high, this system allows you to adapt to the narrative flow and also introduce additional surprise and suspense, while still providing clear outcomes and useful information. When you get into the swing of using flavored rolls, they’re a powerful storytelling and gameplay tool that adds a lot of interesting complexity.

    • Why it works: This approach reduces the need for heavy mechanical bookkeeping. It empowers the GM to quickly adapt to the flow of the story without interrupting the narrative for an abundance of rules interpretations. It also keeps the gameplay engaging for players because the outcome is always tied back to the story they’re unfolding. It also keeps things interesting and exciting for everyone at the table as the dice provide interesting twists and add an additional element of surprise.

    Psychological Loopholes and the Art of Engagement

    A black woman conducting a spiritual ritual indoors with a pendant, evoking mystical themes.

    Mastering intrigue in TTRPGs isn’t just about keeping track of numbers or relationships! It’s about manipulating attention, controlling decision-making, and keeping your players invested. GMs can draw on psychological tactics commonly used in sales, carnival tricks, and even the subtle art of psychic performers to guide players through complex political webs without overwhelming them. These techniques help players feel both in control and uncertain, driving engagement and immersion in the story. Here’s how:

    Misdirection: Directing Attention to Where You Want It

    In political intrigue, not everything is as it seems. Misdirection is a powerful tool for controlling player focus and pacing. By subtly introducing minor details that seem innocuous, you can later reveal their importance without forcing it. This technique mirrors the psychological sleight of hand used by magicians and con artists, where the attention is carefully guided to ensure that the big reveal lands with maximum impact.

    For example, an NPC might casually mention an upcoming banquet, which is framed like a harmless minor social event. Players, focused on their current objectives, might ignore it only to later discover that the “banquet” was a secret meeting, designed to sway key allies or arrange a political assassination. The players’ minds are tricked into thinking they were “in the know,” but the shift in power is revealed when they least expect it. This builds suspense and surprise, keeping players engaged without overwhelming them with unnecessary details upfront.

    • Why it works: Misdirection takes advantage of cognitive bias, specifically confirmation bias, where players expect certain outcomes based on initial information. By hiding key elements in plain sight, the GM ensures that players are both engaged and surprised, while creating a deeper connection with the plot.

    Social Proof and Influence: Using NPC Behavior to Guide Player Choices

    Humans are highly influenced by the actions and opinions of others, and this principle of social proof can be leveraged in intrigue-heavy games. By using NPCs as subtle influencers, you can guide player decisions without heavy-handed persuasion. In sales psychology, people are more likely to buy a product if others endorse it; in intrigue, players are more likely to support a faction or ally if they see important or friendly NPCs backing them.

    For instance, if an influential faction leader speaks highly of a particular political rival, players might feel inclined to either support or investigate that rival, influenced by the implied credibility of the endorsement mixed with the rival angle. Alternatively, a befriended NPC might offer veiled warnings about a faction’s plans, nudging players to proceed cautiously or even actively disrupt the rival’s activities. This approach streamlines a lot of things for players by giving them clear cues about where the political power lies, reducing the cognitive load and letting the plot unfold more naturally.

    • Why it works: This taps into the social influence principles of conformity and consensus. Players naturally seek validation from social cues, so using NPCs to “validate” certain actions or allegiances guides the flow of intrigue without requiring long monologues or exposition dumps. It’s the subtle psychological pressure that pushes players into a specific direction, while still allowing them to feel like they made their own choice.

    Reciprocity: Leveraging Favors and Debt to Build Tension

    Reciprocity is an ancient psychological principle that says people feel an innate obligation to return favors. This can be a key tool in political intrigue, where favors, alliances, and debts form the backbone of player motivations. When players make deals with factions or NPCs, they create expectations of repayment and these obligations can weigh heavily on their decisions later in the game.

    If a player helps an influential noble with a personal problem, that noble might offer valuable information or protection in return. But as the story progresses, they continue to be helpful and the trap is revealed. The noble whose helpful “kindness” in retrospect (hindsight is 20/20) proved overly generous for a reason comes to claim their “favor” asking the player to act in a way that conflicts with their current goals or alliances. This introduces a powerful narrative element where the weight of past decisions shapes the player’s future actions, adding a layer of psychological complexity without requiring complicated mechanics or bookkeeping.

    • Why it works: The principle of reciprocity plays into social and moral psychology, where people are hardwired to feel indebted after receiving something, whether it’s help, information, or a material gain. This flow is rarely one-sided and the balance can change over time as repayment crosses over into extra favors or a steady trickle of help keeps someone mildly indebted at all times. This creates emotional investment in the narrative, and players are more likely to engage in moral dilemmas, negotiate, or make tough decisions when they feel the weight of past actions pressing on them.

    Keeping it Simple, Making it Rich

    At the heart of these psychological tricks is simplicity. The most effective intrigue games are often the ones that don’t overload players with too much information at once. By using tools like misdirection, social proof, and reciprocity, you can shape a deeply engaging political narrative without bogging down the game with mechanical complexity. The beauty of these tools lies in their ability to guide players naturally through the story, ensuring they’re emotionally invested and actively engaged with every twist and turn.

    When you apply these techniques along with trackers, reputation tags, and flavored Motif rolls using dice labels, you create a dynamic, evolving world where player actions and decisions genuinely matter. They’ll feel like they’re driving the intrigue forward, while you as the GM maintain control over the direction and outcome of the story. And most importantly, these tools make intrigue more accessible for both players and GMs alike, because ultimately it’s all about keeping everyone engaged, focused, and ready for the next big revelation.

    The GM’s Role in Intrigue: Balancing Freedom with Structure

    Reputation tags and flavored Motif rolls give GMs the flexibility to focus on the narrative, not mechanics. These tools streamline the complexities of political intrigue, letting the GM adapt to player actions and keep the story moving without constantly referencing rulebooks.

    By simplifying relationships with reputation tags and maintaining clarity through trackers, GMs can focus on the psychological aspects of intrigue. All-flavor Motif rolls using dice labels provide a way to introduce flexibility, complexity, and additional surprise in a simple way. Techniques like misdirection guide players’ attention, while reciprocity and social proof help drive decisions and alliances. This balance of freedom and structure creates space for unexpected plot twists (alliances, betrayals, and power struggles) without losing track of the bigger picture. The key is to embrace simplicity, which lets players’ decisions and the drama unfold naturally.

    As a GM, the key to running political intrigue lies in trusting this approach’s simplicity. By offering players the freedom to make decisions without overwhelming them with excessive detail, you create space for unexpected alliances, betrayals, and power struggles to unfold naturally.

    Keeping It Engaging for Players: The Art of Guidance

    With these tools and psychological techniques, you can navigate your players through the labyrinth of political intrigue without forcing them down a rigid path. Just as carnival performers weave a mesmerizing spectacle, you can expertly misdirect and intrigue your players, creating a web of mystery and power plays they’ll eagerly unravel.

    Political intrigue may seem daunting, but when you combine the simplicity of reputation tags, trackers, and psychological cues, you can craft a compelling narrative that feels natural and engaging. Adding in the Motif dice labels approach provides an easy to use tool that complements that simplicity with suspenseful uncertainty and complex information. These systems take the complexity out of running the game, leaving room for twists, surprises, and, most importantly, player agency. The players aren’t just along for the ride; they’re co-authors of the unfolding drama, shaping the narrative alongside you.

    So, how do you keep intrigue engaging without overwhelming your players? What are some of the trickier pitfalls to avoid in this kind of storytelling? And, crucially, how can you make sure everyone at the table feels involved in the intrigue, not just the GM? What psychological tricks have you found most useful in your own games? Are there any common traps you’ve fallen into when running intrigue-heavy campaigns?

    I’d love to hear your thoughts on these ideas. Let’s dive into the conversation and share how we can make intrigue not just manageable, but unforgettable. Comment below or come shout at Rev about it on Bluesky.

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