Teaching New Players OSR Philosophy with Mythic Bastionland

The Thorn Diaries #001

My Obsession With Mythic Bastionland Continues

After the better part of a year spent with Candela Obscura ran for my group of newbie ttRPG players, I figured it was time to begin expanding my players’ horizons with games that are more than narrative experiences.

Enter Mythic Bastionland. I figured this would be a great first brush with some of the design philosophy that underlies the best aspects of Old-School Renaissance (OSR). Mythic Bastionland is driven by procedures that are excellent at encouraging the emergent gameplay that is at the heart of OSR. It possesses mechanical complexity that at the same time doesn’t intimidate with its granularity from the get-go. The combat, after a halting few turns, begins to click: there’s a clear order of things, no time-wasting “to hit” rolls, and a smorgasbord of Gambits that offer mechanical, but not cognitive, complications.

I introduced the game, suggested we start playing with young Knights-Errant freshly arrived to the realm I’d concocted (you can read about the prep here). A. rolled up a Salt Knight with good stats, including a Spirit of 18; K. rolled a Ring Knight with stats slightly below the average. Both lucked out on their Guard rolls, each scoring a 5.

Here came a first wrinkle, one that promised to benefit the characters enormously. K. rolled for the Ring Knight’s rings, and got what might just be one of the most potent effects they offer: “Wearers share Guard. Use total.” Suddenly, I had two nigh-on untouchable characters.

Hoo, boy. This was going to be a very different adventure from the one I ran for my other group of players.

How to start a Mythic Bastionland game?

I struggled with this the first time around; the second, a rather nice set of prompts presented themselves. The Salt Knight’s Seer is the Bright Seer; the Ring Knight’s thorn rings can only be put on or removed at sunrise. Combining these two ideas together, I described to my players how our story begins with an exchange of rings. A ritual at dawn, meant to strengthen the bond between the two knights’ company, and augment their defences. I dare say it was quite atmospheric: one knight, Lorelai, dressed in violet chainmail knelt down, placing a ring of thorns on the hand of the other, Sam, atop a plateau at the very shore-edge; the wind blowing sprays of seawater, as the first rays of the sun reflected off chainmail and sea alike.

The Bright Seer led this ceremony, in effect a mouthpiece for me to, A) Invite the players to engage with this introductory scene, and, B) to introduce the Knights-Errant to their journey. When all was said and done, he wished them well, burst into flame and turned into ashes that were scattered by the winds inland.

I’m not alone in thinking that someone called the “Bright Seer” would have a flair for the dramatic, am I?

Hexcrawling

Next, I pulled out the map. This was my players’ first introduction to the concept of a hexcrawl. I told them that this is a game of exploration and invited them to pick a point within the Realm - wherever looked interesting to them, they should journey down that direction, I said. Mythic Bastionland is all about the journey, about what happens on the way to an objective--another marker that highlights the game’s OSR identity.

The first myth the dice threw their way was the Hydra. I worried about running that one, as it sets up encounters very far from the traditional...but the dice decide, and both characters having a guard of 10, it would at least offer me a chance to wound one of them.

But let’s think about the Hydra for a second. One thing you have to know about it is, it’s not a combat encounter. Or not just. It’s much more a puzzle. The last words of the first omen, reiterated time and again on that Myth’s page? “It cannot be killed. It must be endured.”

Chopping a bunch of snake heads won’t do it, and neither will letting it swallow you and tearing it from inside (K. asked. I did consider, but...). What I love about this, and what worried me a tad before running it is that the Hydra is the kind of foe that requires unconventional thinking. How was I to underline the importance of that?

The dice delivered. After the Knights-Errant came across the Candle Knight, lone survivor of the Hydra’s first attack, they meant to escort her towards the nearby town of Thornwick. On the way, however, the two came across a landmark. I rolled - and wouldn’t you know it, the type of Landmark was exactly the kind of place that lets a referee provide some useful information to his players. A Sanctum, the sacred home of a Seer. I used a few prompts, rolled a few dice and turned up with the Winged Seer, a feckless and frail creature who lives in the luminous hollowed out trunk of an ancient oak, his wings held aloft by acolytes. Pretty bloody metal.

It was a fun scene, despite a minute-long struggle with finding that NPC’s voice. There’s one thing I’d like to do better from now on, and that is: ask the characters for specific things in return for the Seers’ aid. At this juncture, I used the rather opaque final point of the Winged Seer’s bio: “Wants to bask in vicarious glory.” For his aiding the Knights with information and guidance, he demanded that he be given a place of primacy in the myth of the Hydra’s banishment - if the Knights were to succeed, which the Winged Seer very much doubted. This was fine and the only thing I came up at the moment, but it’s also a little too wishy-washy for me.

Instead, I could’ve rolled on the table of treasures the Hydra keeps in one of its mouths to draw victims out. I could’ve then had the Seer demand that the Knights bring back this artifact - thus adding another fun layer of complication to the characters’ interaction with this Myth.

The Seer gave them a location and an appropriately mystical description of the Hydra’s whereabouts. Off they galloped, right into the heart of the Hydra’s Myth.

The Second Omen

The scene of the two knights, Lorelai and Sam, tying their horses and descending into the damp darkness, walking down natural stone steps towards an underground lake, each holding a torch in one hand, weapons bared in another: this is the stuff memorable adventures are made out of. It wasn’t long at all until they caught the reflective glimmer of scales at the edges of the ring of light created by their torches,.

How were they going to deal with the Hydra? My players thought about that long and hard and came up with a plan they managed to execute perfectly. Sam, the Salt Knight, distracted the Hydra while Lorelai, the Ring Knight, prepared to use her ability:

Despite the preparation and some wonderful rolls, Sam, with her 10 Guard, nonetheless got a scar. Leave it to me to roll a 10 on a single d10 (the other d10, Sam successfully Denied). The scar the Hydra delivered wearied Sam, and decreased her Spirit from an almighty 18 to a measly 12, but she jumped inside Lorelai’s circle just before the other knight sealed it.

Were they safe in the circle? For a time.

The Hydra, furious, tried to get past the invisible wall for many long minutes, thrashing about in an impotent rage. But, see, the Knights were next to the underground lake; what I did was, I rolled a Clarity save for the Hydra, to see if it would notice the circle and the chalk it was drawn in. It did, and its next action was simple enough: it drew water forth from the lake and let out a spurt not towards the Knights-Errant but towards the circle itself. As it dissipated, the Knights decided it was a great time to fuck off. Sam once more held the Hydra’s attention while Lorelai desperately climbed up, intent on untying the horses and preparing them for a desperate flight; meanwhile, the Salt Knight frustrated the Hydra at every opportunity as she beat an ordered retreat.

The session ended with a frustrated Hydra hissing furiously at the sight of the two Knights on their steeds, having successfully endured the monster for the first time.

How About that OSR Philosophy?

Okay, but how does all this translate to teaching my players OSR philosophy? For one, Mythic Bastionland teaches all of us to embrace randomness: the dice told a story through luck and save rolls, through the entirely random wilderness rolls that produced first the Hydra Myth and Candle Knight they met, and then the exact landmark that could’ve given them answers to the mystery of the Hydra they wanted to explore at this juncture. If they’d instead come across a different landmark--say, a dwelling--they likely would have encountered the first Omen to a wholly different Myth.

Another staple of OSR is the exploration of the exterior world rather than the interior, and I think I’ve put the hooks into my two players for that, too. Character (which was the focus of our *Candela Obscura* game alongside dark academia nonsense and occult horror) takes a backseat here. Don’t get me wrong, th players have begun to develop character voices but the aim here is that they interact with the world in satisfying ways: and MB empowers this.

Finally, I think, any good OSR game teaches players not to rely on a list of skills but on doing a lot with the little they have at their disposal. OSR games, in effect, invite players to exercise ingenuity in problem-solving. Yes, my characters did make use of the abilities on their character sheets but they did so in an intelligent way that used the information they had to its fullest advantage. They plotted, they planned, they came up with new solutions on the spot when old ones failed.

Mythic Bastionland doesn’t have all the staples of OSR games - you won’t find an encumbrance system or, say, an accent on treasure, gold, scores of trinkets. But under the theme- this chivalrous romance on acid--is a game incredibly faithful to the OSR ethos, and my players are clicking with it hard. It might just be a gateway drug to more traditional adventures yet.