Metropolis
Aug. 31st, 2007 01:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
teleribI frequent some forums for 7th Sea, one of my favorite RPGs. Today, someone suggested renaming Hero Points (which are used to build characters) "Character Points," because otherwise it suggests the presence of Villain Points and Henchman Points and so on, ad infinitum. S/he then extended the "point" idea to Ship Points (which the game has), City Points and Nation Points.
Someone asked what one would do with City Points, and the reply was to the effect that they could stat out cities for purposes of seeing who would win a political, economic or military conflict.
I assume the presence of Friday Beams in the upper atmosphere triggered the formation of "Metropolis: The Role-Playing Game of Cities" in my head. You'd play anthropomorphic representations of places - you know, like Uncle Sam and Britannia, only for cities, too.
"Luthon! I'm so glad you could make it!"
Luthon forced a smile. The horrible thing about it was, Caerleon seemed so genuinely, naively happy. She really had no idea how thoroughly Luthon hated her. Or wanted to hate her, with her ridiculous violet eyes and silver hair and billowy diaphanous gowns, and her stealing Luthon's spot as Avalon's capital. But she was so sweet, and so nice, and really seemed to believe that the past was old and done and gone, and everyone could live happily ever after now. Ah, the innocence of youth.
How else could she account for being invited to the same party as Grandmother Tara, scowling at Luthon, her former occupier, from her rocking chair by the fire, and Charouse, Luthon's former invader, even now sailing across the ballroom towards them?
"Ah, Caerleon, a word?" Luthon tried to draw her hostess off, to explain why certain parties were best left apart, when the doors to the ballroom burst open. The new arrival strode in, clad in black smuggler's leathers from head to toe and a patch over one eye. A train of sycophants followed her in, dispensing samples of her exotic trade goods.
Luthon's jaw dropped. "You invited Freiburg? Oh, Caerleon, what were you thinking?"
No, I have no idea what cities are doing attending a ball, nor for what that might be a metaphor. Mostly, it's cool to come up with anthropomorphizations.
Someone asked what one would do with City Points, and the reply was to the effect that they could stat out cities for purposes of seeing who would win a political, economic or military conflict.
I assume the presence of Friday Beams in the upper atmosphere triggered the formation of "Metropolis: The Role-Playing Game of Cities" in my head. You'd play anthropomorphic representations of places - you know, like Uncle Sam and Britannia, only for cities, too.
"Luthon! I'm so glad you could make it!"
Luthon forced a smile. The horrible thing about it was, Caerleon seemed so genuinely, naively happy. She really had no idea how thoroughly Luthon hated her. Or wanted to hate her, with her ridiculous violet eyes and silver hair and billowy diaphanous gowns, and her stealing Luthon's spot as Avalon's capital. But she was so sweet, and so nice, and really seemed to believe that the past was old and done and gone, and everyone could live happily ever after now. Ah, the innocence of youth.
How else could she account for being invited to the same party as Grandmother Tara, scowling at Luthon, her former occupier, from her rocking chair by the fire, and Charouse, Luthon's former invader, even now sailing across the ballroom towards them?
"Ah, Caerleon, a word?" Luthon tried to draw her hostess off, to explain why certain parties were best left apart, when the doors to the ballroom burst open. The new arrival strode in, clad in black smuggler's leathers from head to toe and a patch over one eye. A train of sycophants followed her in, dispensing samples of her exotic trade goods.
Luthon's jaw dropped. "You invited Freiburg? Oh, Caerleon, what were you thinking?"
No, I have no idea what cities are doing attending a ball, nor for what that might be a metaphor. Mostly, it's cool to come up with anthropomorphizations.
