ImmacuNES III: Post-Apocalyptic Fantasy

[Darksaber1]

So, just trying to confirm, but the undevoloped tile to the north-east of me is a hilly-desert?

 

[Immaculate]

So, just trying to confirm, but the undevoloped tile to the north-east of me is a hilly-desert?

confirmed.

Regarding the stat changes: I think i will tone the changes down considerably but still make a small change in the direction i described. I don't want to lose a player (or players) over this.

 

[Kyzarc Fotjage]

an kharkusian worldmap for those who can`t read... which is quite some in kharkusia:

Spoiler :

I can't quite make out what the Achatin picture is... Is it a gnome with an axe and plate armor?

 

[Northen Wolf]

I love troll picture you used

I don't mind changes - be them heavy or not, I don't like games where you can essentially win within 5 turns, only by getting lucky (good location and good food producing)

 

[Ekolite]

i actually tried to find a picture of an civilised orc.. and did not find one...
then i checked for leprous orcs.. no luck there.. not even a sick one..
finally i took that one because he looked fat.. and i thought that could have been one of your people problem.. fast grow.. no healthcare... no workout... just eating and studying... forgetting about the lesser needs
but like i said.. if you supply me with a image you favour i`m happy to change it.. thats no biggy..

rulechanges:
i haven`t seen my new stats... but at this point i support them blindly.. the new template makes sense to me, and the reassons for the changes look pretty ehmm.. reassonable to me.

Ah okay I see the reasoning now. Our religion actually provides physical perfection to the most devout but it doesn't really matter that much. If I chance across a more fitting picture I'll send it to you but if not then it's not that big a deal.

 

[vruchten]

I can't quite make out what the Achatin picture is... Is it a gnome with an axe and plate armor?

close to that: it was labeled as dwarf-princess, but yes with axe plate armor...here the original:

Spoiler :

 

[vruchten]

Ah okay I see the reasoning now. Our religion actually provides physical perfection to the most devout but it doesn't really matter that much. If I chance across a more fitting picture I'll send it to you but if not then it's not that big a deal.

hey i found some pictures which are really great for your orcs maybe:

the nerdish orc:

Spoiler :

the leprous orc, this one looks really good, but probably doesn`t really suit you:

Spoiler :

the eastern orc, not too civilised but with the touch of wisdom:

Spoiler :

the orcen professor, my favorit:

Spoiler :

which one s your call?

 

[Ekolite]

The last one looks fantastic. The farming one's quite apt too but I think I'll go with the one reading the book.

 

[Immaculate]

Returning to the subject of the changes that i have proposed to the rule-system for a moment, i have decided to:

1) reduce the effect upon hammers and food compared to my first set of proposed changes.

2) retain the effect upon trade

3) retain the effect upon libraries and universities

4) retain the effect upon blacksmithies and foundries

Here is what the proposed changes did to your stats.

​

EDIT: I should also mention that players will receive gold/food/hammers to compensate for the difference for 2 more turns. So for your turn 8 orders you'll receive half the difference and on turn 9 you'll receive 1/4 the difference. I think this should 'cushion' the drop in your stats and make the adjustment easier.

At this point the changes are a done deal; if you don't like the effects, i would ask that you E-mail me your comments privately.

 

[Ekolite]

That's still too much.

 

[Immaculate]

I invite you to E-MAIL me your thoughts on the issue ekolite.

EDIT: if anyone wants there new stats, feel free to e-mail me. Otherwise i'll just give them to you after the update like i usually do.

 

[vruchten]

i`m not to much into math, but do is see this right?
looking at the grafs it looks for me like the strongest one is not always hit the hardest (in percent):
which is okey for me, because it proves that it isn`t just to harm those who perform good
and it sure does not change the rank:
the strong ones are still strong... and i`m still doomed... :;

 

[Immaculate]

posting stats is always problematic. i don't want to discourage anyone.

ultimately we can't all be in 1st place; as the game progresses no doubt alliances and cooperation between nations will help smaller nations stay competitive.

Lastly, i don't really believe that all nations should be equal. They should have equal potential (or close to it) but once the game begins the actions of one nation can really change the future of that nation or its neighbors. Additionally, the NPCs and the result of the dice can really change things too.

 

[Immaculate]

lets aim to get orders in by tuesday night for the early-bird special and at the latest by wednesday night. I won't be accepting any more after about 10am GMT on thursday morning.

 

[Ekolite]

The Sin of Ill Health

In the Kaer of Uld'ar, where all administrative organisations of the state were based, the Church of Il-Javaskar was in conclave.

While Uld'ar was not strictly a theocracy, the priesthood held many seats on the Ruling Council of Uld'ar. Furthermore the Chancellor (leader) of the Council was one Muldar Edoris, who also held the highest position in the Church. The position of Chancellor has no set term, and thus the Chancellor rules until death, or a unanimous demand from the 10 other council members forces him to step down. Thankfully for Edoris, the first and so far only Chancellor of the Herishba, the most devout followers of Il-Javaskar are so long-lived as to be almost immortal, and a unanimous Herishba is impossible without the votes of the Church, which he generally controls.

At present, Muldar Edoris sat upon his stone-hewn throne, stripped naked in the true tradition of the Church, and holding the legendary, although admittedly now rather ceremonial, Spear of Valour in his right hand. At the podium below a young priest was speaking to the conclave on the delicate matter of the spread of leprosy across Uld'ar;

''...Leprosy, and in fact disease of any kind, is the mark of the devil.'' He spoke in a rousing, mildly aggressive tone of voice, ''Faith in Il-Javaskar brings with it good health, and so to be diseased is to be cursed, hated by God. Disease strikes only the sinners of this land, and sin cannot be allowed to run free. We have already seen the effects of the contamination of ungodliness from one man to another and the effect is both startling and alarming. Something must be done!''

The odeon thundered with applause, and the speaker barely continued above the sound, ''I call upon the Church to take action against the spread of sin! I call upon the Herishba Serrinus! And I call upon God to strike this evil dead before the contamination can spread further amongst the good men and women of Uld'ar!''

It was some time before the applause quietened down, and another man stood from amongst the clergy. ''What of the Blossoms of Mercy, brother? The healers of the sick?'' The hall was silent, and Muldar Edoris gazed down intently from his high throne to better visualise the one who spoke. The man at the podium, an influential priest by the name of Ragnor Huldimun was quick to respond.

''The Blossoms of Mercy are a plague upon this state! Lepers are lepers because they do not praise Il-Javaskar. These individuals cannot be forgiven nor their practises condoned. The Blossoms of Mercy have no right to offer forgiveness nor care for these people, their suffering is divine retribution for their sin. They should be treated as no better then animals, for those who praise not Il-Javaskar are animals yet.''

More applause. It was clear to Muldar Edoris that Ragnor had attained much popularity in the Church of late. He considered the fact that he may soon contest for the title of Bishop, which of course came with a seat on the Herishba.

There are three bishops of Uld'ar, who each fill one seat on the Herishba. The fourth Church seat is reserved for the Archbishop, which is of course Muldar himself. The Archbishop is chosen directly by Il-Javaskar in the sacred depths of the Kaer. However the Church itself chooses the bishops. Thankfully, the reigning Archbishop possessed a veto in the nomination of new bishops.

It appeared that for now, conclave was concluded and the priests quickly began to filter out of the odeon to tend to their duties in the city of Uld'ar and its outlying settlements. Alas, the day was not yet done for Edoris, who begrudgingly now made his way to the Chambers of the Herishba Serrinus.

The reigning bishops, weak, fearful men, filed in and took their places to the right of the Chancellor. The two most high-ranking generals followed them and also sat to his right. From a separate door entered the elected ''Chieftains'' of state. Each one was dressed in the ceremonial attire of one of the five ancient tribes of Uld'ar, although their true bloodlines were of course far too blurred for this to be meaningful in any way. They sat to the left of the Chancellor.

Once everyone was seated, the Chancellor opened session and vague discussion went back and forth for several hours. Uncontrollable population growth, the Aifon Question, the price of bread, colonisation and the return of Patria each touched the lips of the councilmen. Gradually, Edoris steered the conversation towards disease. It was agreed that unsanitary conditions, as well as an unsatisfactory level of devotion to Il-Javaskar, was the cause of the spread of leprosy amongst the lower class. Muldar Edoris, despite the subdued objection of the bishopric, seemed particularly interested in sanitation. It was put forth by one of the Chieftains that a state-funded sewage system would all but annihilate the spread of leprosy, but finally, despite convention that the bishopric did not speak out of turn, Bishop Gerodem Vorkasbi burst out in outrage.

''This is blasphemy! Il-Javaskar provides all the 'sanitation' a man can need, and those who do suffer do so because they praise him not!'' A glare from the Chancellor sent shivers down his spine and persuaded him to hold his tongue in future. Finally, Edoris sighed, it was obvious that he would need to make his own position on the crisis clear, but he knew that the Church would soon be in uproar and Ragnor Huldimun's influence would only grow.

''It is my belief that this mighty state of Uld'ar needs every man, woman and child we have. Our strength is in our numbers, which surpass all other states in vastness. The Herishba, and importantly the Church, must come to accept that not everyone is sufficiently devout or of religious persuasion to obtain the gifts of Il-Javaskar. While there are some among us capable of living for hundreds of years, the poor in some areas of Uld'ar rarely reach 25 years of age. However, these men and women are of no less use to the state then our priests and noblemen and in many cases, dare i say it, they are of more use. Il-Javaskar commands that we make Uld'ar great in his name, and in the pursuit of this duty every miner, farmer and fisherman is of vital importance. Now here... is what we shall do...''

 

[hbar]

Tinker'rs Faire

Spoiler :

It was overwhelming. Everywhere K'nryk turned, a new barrage of sights, sounds, and smells assaulted his senses. Brightly colored tents stretched away on the usually drab boulevards of Jotunheimr. Barkers were singing the praises of the myriad inventions, patrons were grumbling about the overpriced food and horns of mead (though the price stopped no one from imbibing), and every few minutes there was the unmistakable sound of failure; a device that perhaps worked perfectly in the solitude of the inventor's shed collapsing spectacularly in a crowd.

He clutched his oilskin-wrapped bundle and dove into the bustling crowds. The mock battles and weapon'rs tents were on the far side of the square, and he was late already. He willed his focus to remain planted firmly in front of his feet despite the spectacles unfolding around him. At the edge of his vision, he caught glimpses of contraptions nearly Dwarven in their complexity. Sails to catch the wind and grind grain, crank-operated fish cleaners, and wheels to spin thread from pelts of the wild Yetï were some of the more practical. The others, ranging from the whimsical to the deranged, were generously described as art.

As K'nryk crossed the main square, he let out a small yelp of surprise at the spectacle displayed in the center. A mechanical icewyrm, as tall as three trolls and twice that in width, was gyrating on a stage barely strong enough to support it. Getting over his initial shock, K'nryk quickly began analyzing how it was put together. "Hmm, metal frame with hides stretched over it. Looks like rope and pulleys to move the wings," he muttered, glancing at the six trolls by the exhibit's tent straining at the ropes. "Could use a resin frame to save on weight. If you added a hinge there," gesturing with his hands to no one in particular, "you could add some front to back movement to make it more realistic." The wyrm raised its head as if in response and belched forth a huge cloud of sleet and fog, courtesy of an acolyte praying fervently beside the stage. The crowd let up a cheer as the drakeling came to rest. Remembering his duty, K'nryk silently cursed himself for getting distracted and hurried on his way.

His father liked to boast that the only reason he wasn't the Stjóri of the Th'r clan was that his first edict would be to confiscate the clan's mead and wives, and his second would proclaim they needed more of both. True to form, K'nryk found him at the meadhouse, horn in one hand, whore in the other, at a table with the other clan fathers.

"Hai K'nryk!" He bellowed, "Took your time again. Stop for a roll in the roses?" At that, he playfully spanked the whore beside him with a lecherous grin. "Nah, y'r too busy with those toys 'n trinkets."

"Yes father ... I mean no father," K'nryk stammered, "I mean, I've brought them here like you asked." He set down the bundle and began to back away.

"Ah yes, I did ask you didn't I. I've been having a little wager with the rest of the Th'rfaðir, regarding those toys of yours. What'dya say about a little shooting contest?"

K'nryk turned a deeper shade of green. "Ah, well, I'm not sure it's ready. I still need to adjust some th.."

"Nonsense! The Lo'kyl clan says the pinklings are coming for us, that they smelled weakness in our stand at the fort. I won't have my son standing around like some no-clan whorespawn while the real Kyn do the fighting. You'll be shooting today, and you'll be shooting your best. Now put together your toy and get out to the range."

K'nryk dutifully opened the oilskin and began assembling his weapon. To an outsider, it was hard to recognize the object as a crossbow through the tangle of cords, straps, and springs, but K'nryk's practiced hands assembled the various parts with ease. He checked the boltloader's rotation, the slide of the counterweight, and the tension on the bowstring. All the while he could feel the stares of the clanfaðirs, and the occasional guffaw at his unwieldy weapon. When he was sure it was ready, he heaved it onto his shoulder and walked to the range. He groaned when he saw who he would be shooting against, although he had known it could be no other. Once his childhood friend, adolescence brought rivalry and jealousy between them as Sjölynd grew stronger, faster, and more confidant. All K'nryk had was his knack for machines, and now that was in danger because of this stupid bet.

Sjölynd was already firing practice bolts from his beautiful ebony and iron crossbow as K'nryk walked up.

"Hey K'nryk, finally got that thing working eh? It's, ah, nice. Me, I like simplicity - sleek lines, you know?" Sjölynd sighted down the bore of his bow. "You know, this thing once belonged to a Skyraider captain, before the Scourge. Pure Patrian, right down to the runes."

K'nryk was pretty sure it wasn't Patrian, or even Kyn-made. By the look of the markings on the side and the rough hew of the handle, he guessed it was a gnomish ballista refitted for a troll to use, but he didn't press the issue. "Whatever. Let's just get this over with. We're missing the faire."

Sjölynd rolled his eyes. "You tinker'rs never learn. All the contraptions in Niflheim won't save you when the pinklings come swarming. Real kyn fight." With that, he let fly a bolt across the range. It sunk into the target and a cheer rose behind them. The clanfaðirs had come out to watch the match, and the Stjóri began outlining the rules.

"On my mark, you may begin shooting. The first one to place six bolts in the target is the winner. Ready your weapons; three, two one ... mark!"

K'nryk raised his bow, said a quick silent prayer to Mul'kjrn, and pulled the trigger.

Fwap fwap fwap fwap fwap fwap

K'nryk opened one eye and peeked at the target. All six of his bolts were firmly lodged in the hay bale. Sjölynd was stopped halfway through loading his second bolt, his mouth hanging open in shock. A stunned silence gave way to cheers, and K'nryk heard his father shout, "Atta boy, K'n! Blomdí," he said, grabbing the whore around the waist, "looks like you're coming home with me!"

"Wait, that was the bet?" muttered K'nryk. He rolled his eyes as he packed up his weapon. "I'm going back to the faire."

 

[vruchten]

like your stories!

 

[Immaculate]

yeah, i agree; good stories.

 

[hbar]

I went to Maker Faire this weekend, and I was inspired. Believe it or not, that story was based on true events.

 

[Diamondeye]

Orders sent.

I am hoping that Arcana will soon play a role in this game. Then, I'll gladly write up some stories about my great mages and Princess Anabella tossing death and destruction about as toys.