Relics of the Fall Megagame Report (Part 2)
The final part of Jon Searle’s megagame report on ‘Relics of the Fall‘ that he played recently in Cambridge, UK. Part 1 is available over here in case you haven’t read it. Looks like Jon is in trouble to us…
My team has at least one informant. Infighting is rife. We face life-or-death intrigue in the capital. Heretics run through my towns. We have been tortured. Our commanders provoke hostile targets at random due to political pressure. Radiation floods the wasteland. Refugees beg for shelter.
And though I don’t know it, the blueprint I’m holding has been sabotaged.
But as I don’t know that, I’m overjoyed. It’s the last step in automating how our farms will work; this is the lynchpin we’ve needed to placate the Wilders. Soon we can free their enslaved kin, and as an added bonus we won’t even have to feed them (go back and read part one, we’re not the good guys here).
A group of Wilders clearly not plotting the downfall of the glorious Empire. (Photo by: Darren Green, Crisis Games)
But as I don’t know that, I’m overjoyed. It’s the last step in automating how our farms will work; this is the lynchpin we’ve needed to placate the Wilders. Soon we can free their enslaved kin, and as an added bonus we won’t even have to feed them (go back and read part one, we’re not the good guys here).
But first I need to skip back a few seasons. Maybe 45 minutes’ game time.
I’ve not covered all the deals I was cutting on the day with the various Wilder Societies. I was approached by a lot of players offering a lot of things and keeping track of which of the five tribes was offering what was, I think understandably, taxing. I only really made the one mistake here but it was a big one: I resorted to colour-coding the Wilder teams in my head. More on this shortly.
The initial offer I had broadcast to the harsh steppe of the Indicus Wilds was simple: help us automate our farms and we’ll return your people. Some were intrigued, others weren’t. So dialogues did open and divides were formed. The offer was adjusted and readjusted between parties to all at once be ‘free our slaves and not theirs’, ‘free our slaves and we’ll enslave that other tribe for you’ and, curiously, ‘give our slaves back and we’ll come work for you’.
What I’m getting at is that it was hard to discern the motives of each of the five tribes with so much to do. Looking back I now know that the two main groups I talked to were the Crows and the Rising Ash (who openly disliked the crows and made the tenuous claim of representing “all the tribes bar the Crows”). I was identifying the Crows by their purple colour scheme and map cubes, and the Rising Ash by yellow cubes and fondness for eyewear of various kinds.
By this year the Wilder teams had expanded enough that some of them were now finding the Fall Relics we wanted for our automation research. We’d accumulated almost everything we needed and the goal no longer looked like a pipe-dream.
Ongoing Wilder negotiations at the map (Photo by: Darren Green, Crisis Games)
I’d been talking to a Crow player I was getting along with well, who wanted to me throw the Blue team (who I now know to be the Fallen Sun) under the bus. It took some negotiation, but the plan we developed was simple enough: the Crows supply the last of the parts needed to automate our farms, allowing us to free slaves with no loss. Then at Winter I publicly thank the Fallen Sun for aiding us, hail them as true and loyal servants of Tsar Maximillian, publicly release all of their enslaved folk at which point at least some of the other Wilders turn on them for being collaborators. Later I would release the Crow’s captured people on the sly. For my benefit it would open up further rifts and possibly becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy by driving the Fallen Sun to seek sanctuary within the Empire. The Crows get the opportunity to expand into areas of key interest to them. Or just get to create a ruckus. Either is good.
The Rising Ash wanted me to straight-up cut ties with the Crows then attack them. What a boring, straightforward, sensible idea.
Around the middle of this year, the Lictor introduce me to a player wearing purple lipstick and a purple-y top. They had the final blueprint. This wasn’t my usual Crow contact, but they knew what they had and why we needed it. They checked- if they handed over the blueprint now, they’d get their people back? I said yes. They handed over the blueprint, and I told them to go take their population cube back home.
I happily stepped over to Control, told them that we’d got everything we needed for automation, said we’d start straight away, to which Control told me that our fancy new machinery came alive and ate the engineer that was working on it. Obviously this was just some kind of pre-production issue that could be quickly fixed, so I pushed another engineer forward.
As I wiped the second engineer’s blood from my eyes and shook their entrails from my boots, Control informed me that the blueprint had been tampered with and all the research was for naught; nothing could be salvaged and we would have to start from scratch. Not one to be put down, I asked it this big unpredictable stabby thing had any combat applications. Could we put it on wheels and push it towards the enemy? Maybe launch it from a catapult? I was told no.
Jon (far right) surveying the map and working out his next move (Photo by: Darren Green, Crisis Games)
We hadn’t actually lost anything other than time and plans; all the materials for the automation tech had come from slowly convincing the Wilders. And it confirmed the presence of shady forces working against the team goals I was setting.
So that Winter, I announced that the Crows had damned the whole of the Indicus Wilds. The Steel Empire had offered an olive branch and they had spat in our faces. Afterwards my normal contact from the Crows game up stating, and I quote: “In the wise words of our Engine-witch, that wasn’t very cash money of you”. He made excuses left and right, but I told him there was a way he could save our relationship. I explained that in this last deal the Lictor had served as the point of contact. I now knew he had a political agenda, quite possibly one seeking to return to the Empire’s older religious ways. Maybe he disagreed with innovation? Maybe he preferred holding slaves? I knew there was an informant to the Tsar in the team and that something was hampering us from within; he was the most likely suspect. So I told the Crows they could get back into my good books by investigating the Lictor and who he talked to. I provided starting information then dismissed them.
A point for clarification: there was an influence/secret agent game I’d never been able to interact with, which the Lictor handled for our team. My intention was that the Crows would use these mechanics to assess the Lictor’s loyalty to the Empire.
It turned out that the otherwise polite and conniving Crows were moonstruck barbarians. They kidnapped the Lictor, tortured him, then cut off his ring and pinky fingers so that he had to make crow-claw motions with his remaining digits. They came back, told me yep the Lictor was on the level, and polite-as-you-like asked for payment in food. I paid them to sod off. So far this game, no-one had disobeyed my orders, but they’d all been incredibly free with the interpretation.
As my province rose higher my fortunes sunk lower. In the background the situation across the wider game reached breaking point. The Legates got out of control and used a new road network I’d constructed to quickly invade the Silk City States on a summer jaunt. Because why not? The Silk Plutarchs didn’t even subsequently cancel our trade deals. Meanwhile I knew the Lictor was building an airtight case against me (I later learned that he even collaborated with the Crows on it. I mean come on). Then some sort of mess occurred in the growing radiation zone and previously unseen Relic-Mechs appeared, guarding what appeared to be a huge alien spaceship. My first thought: “I hope they’re friendly”. My second: “As if”. We actually benefited from all of this, but I was no longer in control of events. I’d served my usefulness by diligently expanding the province and outfitting my team to the point that they became autonomous. I would soon be dispensable and I knew it.
The offending road heading straight for the Silk Cities (Photo by: Darren Green, Crisis Games)
Control came to me, and asked me how much I’d invested in my personal spy network:
“I have a spy network?”
“Everyone has a spy network.”
“...oh.”
I was under investigation. Believe it or not I’ve been in this position before in games. The catch-22 choice is this: pocket state funds and likely incriminate yourself for doing so, or leave yourself open to attack. I looked at the resources stockpile for winter. I’d calculated so that for the first time ever everyone would eat well and be sheltered from the fatal chill winds. No-one had to die, expect me. I told Control that I wouldn’t embezzle, refusing to defend myself, knowing that the Lictor’s agents would pick me clean.
As I waited for the axe to fall I kept on shoring up our position. One of the unusual ways I did this was to march up to the Lictor, in front of Control, and openly confess. I even apologised and said at year end I’d return to the capital for what would definitely be a show trial. I hoped this would prevent the Lictor from squandering state resources to get at me, and I think it worked. Both he and Control looked understandably baffled, but understood when I explained myself.
The alien spaceship had been defeated somehow (I had nothing to do with it beyond supplying the Legates who were part of a temporary alliance), and the Empire were first to the wreckage. Against the ominous warnings of the Engine-Witches, pathetically bleating that the ship wasn’t properly “dead”, I sent it back to the capital. It’s kind of Titan-like, right? Mission accomplished! And consider this: if a dis-temperate conveyor belt can kill an engineer, maybe a reanimated alien ship could upend a Tsar’s day?
Then the Silk City Plutarchs launched a retaliatory invasion that we bought off for, as I recall, some tinned rations, children’s toys, and a twelve inch statue. Such is the value of the technology of old.
The Silk City States Plutarchs. I cannot think of a nicer group of people to be invaded by. (Photo by: Darren Green, Crisis Games)
Next I gambled on expanding into territories that shortly provided us with a small bounty of Fall Relics. From these I made powerful new units called Gauss Trains and gave them to the Immortals Legate (this split from my policy of not favouring either- I think the Heretic Legate was out of the room?). I developed new tech for civilian benefits, wheeled, dealed, bargained, and traded.
In the course of these trades, I realised that I had accidentally accumulated almost everything needed to build a fully-functioning teleporter. Maybe I didn’t have to die? But no-one, no-one at all, had that final part. Time was up; I had to make my winter address. Emptying my pockets of all cards bar one that read “UNEXPLODED MUNITIONS”, I told Control that I wouldn’t shame my province with a lame defence back home. Instead I’d be ending it here with a grenade in my pocket. Maybe, just maybe, I could pressure the Tsar into saving face and accepting this as both an end and new beginning. Wearing my gown and hat my final speech was jubilant, about progress and harmony, co-operation and camaraderie. I then lamented that I must go, my work was done, I had to make way for the next generation, and pulled the pin.
…
…
…
Thankfully it went off.
It would have been really embarrassing otherwise.
The final turn was a short one. I was recast as a beleaguered civil servant to manage the province’s economy (thanks to the deceased Prefect’s actions, the populace did indeed eat well and all survive the winter). Then I mercifully got to step back and watch others play for a bit. I’ll summarise with bullet points:
The Lictor immediately took over as the political face of the Empire, and was in charge whilst all the stuff below happened, ho ho ho.
Between the Empire team, it was decided that maybe sending the spaceship to the unstable Tsar wasn’t the best idea and they ‘lost’ it in transport.
Speaking of, I was told that the lion’s share of the work on taking down the spaceship was thanks to the Engine-Witches.
Confronted with undeniable progress in the province, the Tsar had to save face and declared the Prefect’s spirit canonised. Score!
I found out that the player wearing the purple lipstick and top wasn’t a Crow but from a team called the Ancestors. After the game I learned that it was their Engine-Witch that had sabotaged the blueprints. Oh. Oh dear.
The Immortals Legate full-on defected with his whole Legion to make his own Wilder tribe, which led to the very confusing moment of the Heretics Legate yelling “HERETIC!” across the game floor.
The Wilder teams were both hoarding fall relics so they couldn’t be used and hoarding them so they could be used.
The Rising Ash looked to have developed a completely withdrawn and utterly peaceful society. Kudos.
Many Wilders just ran their Relic-Mechs at soft targets on the borders of the Empire.
And I think the Silk Plutarchs closed out with another deep invasion of the Steel Empire.
And there the game ended.
As with any megagame report; this one was unable to cover the whole thing. All mistakes are my own. I never covered the Wilder’s Engine-Witch game, or that of the Silk City Plutarchs. Then there was the integration mechanic that allowed Wilders to join the Empire in stages- I think one tribe took the first minor step on this path, maybe. I’ve not even tried to cover the factional politics and religion of the Empire in depth.
So how did this province of the Empire fare? Maybe the Prefect’s ‘ascension’ would serve it well socially but the next person to occupy that position would be under immense scrutiny. And the Immortal Legate running away with a whole Legion was… not good. Though that’s a huge political win for the Heretics Legate, right? But- two new cities! And I think the overall population grew by about 150%. In six years! Conditions must have been awful!
What a fun place the Steel Empire is. Come visit. Wear body armour.
The Steel Empire team, reunited and living again, post-game. (Photo by: Darren Green, Crisis Games)
Under the hood of Relics
The first point to address was that this was a small game, with only 22 or 23 players as I recall. Notably, and I think this is a point to really praise, the game didn’t suffer for it. It didn’t seem to slow down or stall, and was a blast all throughout. The only player who really ended up taking any time out was me, after my… ascension.
Possibly due to the headcount, I think the game ran for an hour less than the average (in as far as megagames can be said to have an “average”). Again, I don’t consider this a criticism. It may be that I was tired from running around, but the shorter runtime avoided that ‘fading out’ some games experience. Similarly there was no out of control last-turn madness, just a steady ramping up. I’d say knowing when to end on a high is a skill. Either way, this run of Relics self-evidently provided me with lots of memories and thoughts to type up.
Next: The setting was rich, compelling, cool, and all without being conveyed through walls of text. As such the game ticked the ‘Show, don’t tell’ box. Handled correctly, slavery in the game was a narrative motivator not a stumbling block. There were small things to learn about the world each turn. I’d attribute quite a lot of why the game stayed fresh to this alone. Damn good stuff.
What else? The prefect, even in this smaller game, was a hugely busy role. I’ve already said that I enjoyed it, however my concern is that it left some players hanging whilst I made decisions and as such I slowed the game down for others. Perhaps a second Lictor with a more outward political role might solve this? Again though, everyone seemed engaged all the time.
I’ll raise a point here on diversity of players; this run of Relics didn’t break the mould. It’s something every frequent megagamer has come across. It would be unfair of me to single out this game or the people running it, especially given the small headcount, but I’m mentioning it as a gentle reminder to us all going forward.
Another point I’d mention is that the rulebook as I received it could do with another slight proofread (nothing too major). It’s a common enough occurrence with megagames that there’s merit in noting it here as a sample case. Relics is probably a step above “average” complexity. Complexity can add depth but it needs to be easy to unpack. Whilst I feel that the rules and mechanics in this game are well considered and balanced, small tweaks to wording can go a long way.
Speaking of good mechanics- dice. Dice are something of a bugbear for me in many games. I could rant at length but to summarise: I don’t like single dice rolls with binary pass/fail outcomes that have large game effects, particularly when I feel that both the immediate direction and overall outcome of megagames thrives best when expressed in ‘shades of grey’. In Relics, dice, even for the smallest Wilder groups, were rolled often enough that it balanced out.
Custom. Dice. (Photo by: Jon Searle)
And speaking of dice- components. The component production quality was INCREDIBLE. So, so, incredible. The dice were custom. Custom dice. Custom. Dice. The cities were 3d printed modular constructions that slowly built up. The map was artistic and easy to read. Tokens were large, tactile and had interlocking teeth to let them stack, and came in denominations of five for a more granular economy (megagame designers take note). Cards were printed on good stock, conveyed the feel of the game, and had wonderfully dumb sci-fi names. Who knows what a “Lepton Combustion Coil” is? I don’t, but once I do someone is going to suffer. The minis for the Relic-Mechs were lovingly painted. EVEN THE WOODEN CUBES WERE GOOD. THE CUBES. To date, for me, this game was the gold standard of component design. If John ever runs it again with these pieces, I recommend you go just to paw and fawn over them.
Modular cities, chunky cubes, some angry bitey spider thing, and a sheep. The Empire never obtained a sheep. It was Jon’s sole regret. (Photo by: Fraser Patrick)
Side note: in addition to making Relics freely available (once again, it can be found here), John has written a Component Making Guide, available here.
And that’s it. I’d like to thank John Keyworth once more for a brilliant day, and Darren, Bob, and David of Crisis Games for bringing it to life. Were I to play again I’d opt for a Silk City Plutarch - I hardly had the chance to see how their game unfolded, but heard great things and saw great smiles.
Long live the Empire, long live the Tsar Maximillian; may he get through puberty mostly unscathed.
I’m sure you’ll agree that was a fantastic, in-depth write-up from Jon Searle! If you’d like to see your own megagame report published here, let us know.
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