Hello folks, and welcome back to Wrong Every Time. Today I’m eager to dive back into the adventures of Vox Machina, who most recently secured a fresh vestige for Vex in their search for fantastical superweapons. The vestiges have so far proven a highly efficient binding agent for Vox Machina’s rambling journeys; not only do they give the group a Dragon Ball-style incentive to explore this world’s diverse landscapes, they also serve as a natural fusion of narrative drama and mechanical payoff, with each victory offering the tangible reward of a character-specific signature weapon in the wake of that character resolving some aspect of their emotional journey.
Last episode concluded one of those trials while setting the stage for another; Vex has now asserted her value outside of her father’s recognition, while Grog is on the way to answering the question “what does strength mean in the absence of physical power?” Mercer’s setup is so convenient that I’ll probably be stealing it for my next campaign (except maybe hunting down unique enemies instead of weapons?) – as for my current campaign, I’m happy to report that my Bridge Over the River Kwai mission went over fabulously. My players successfully infiltrated a city under occupation, met up with an old ally to discuss strategies (I basically stole the Inglorious Basterds bar scene for that), and then sabotaged a critical bridge while riding off into the sunset. It’s a little hard to schedule sessions with all of us scattered in temporary lodgings, but I’m determined to carry this campaign through to the end. In the meantime, let’s see what nonsense Grog and the gang are getting up to!
Episode 9
We open on a village of halflings being overrun by a herd of goliaths – presumably Grog’s old acquaintances. On book, goliaths seem like one of those unfortunate races doomed to traditional fantasy essentialism, wherein they’re pretty much collectively designated as “warlike and dangerous.” I mostly circumvented the dubious aspects of old-fashioned DnD worldbuilding by establishing my own antagonists as a mixture of tyrannical humans and ambitious devils, so I’ll be interested in seeing how Mercer and the crew basically take the bull by the horns here
Vox Machina is very good at exploiting the inherent, often intangible violence of the DnD world. Hearing “the city is under attack by an ice dragon” is one thing, more mechanical obstacle than dramatic concern – seeing those beams of ice flood the streets, freezing and then shattering people going about their morning routines, is quite another
Granted, it’s a lot easier to pull that trick when you can actually illustrate the violence on a grand scale like this. Lacking such evocative props, the most reliable way to make a threat seem meaningful in a tabletop session is to first establish some personal relationship between the players and the imperiled location, generally through creating non-player characters that the party comes to care about. Vividly realized NPCs aren’t just texture, they are close to the only way to create emotionally meaningful stakes
Our pre-OP stinger reveals that this is actually a flashback to Grog’s own time in the herd. Another narrative embellishment afforded by the transition from interactive to traditional fiction
And we return to the present day with Scanlan, Pike, and Grog peering into the ruins of Westruun, the city that allegedly houses their next vestige
After the kaleidoscopic colors of the Fey Realm, the desaturated browns of Westruun make for an appropriately bleak contrast
Grog explains that the herd is led by Kevdak, his uncle, and that there was a falling out between them. He’s the one bearing the vestige, known as his “Titanstone Knuckles”
I suppose the promise of a legendary pair of knuckles soon approaching must have lessened the sting of being forced to destroy his previous legendary weapon. Still not something I’d consider doing in my own campaign, though; player trust is hard-won, and “you know that item that’s a key element of your kit? I’m taking it away” is one of the easiest ways to break that trust. If players are going to be making mechanical sacrifices, I’d at least like them to have some choice in the matter
With Grog too insecure about his measly muscles to contribute, Scanlan offers to retrieve the vestige himself. Scanlan’s moves are never driven by strategic reasoning; it’s always to prove how tough he is, or impress a girl, or something like that. I imagine his level of chaotic play versus the rest of the party’s generally coherent actions must have been tricky for Mercer to manage – you don’t want to straight-out kill the guy for playing badly, but you also can’t scale the challenges to his level of play, or else everyone else will be coasting. I guess the best you can do is subtle pushes in productive directions like the ones offered by the sphinxes
Alone with Pike, Grog reveals the monster he once was. He almost killed Grandpa Wilhand, before the locket revealing Wilhand’s family stayed his hand
Meanwhile, Scanlan investigates the city in the form of a dragonfly. Polymorph is such a versatile spell that you can essentially build a kit around it; my own party’s sorcerer is so enamored of the spell that I frequently have enemies fling him off high towers, just so he can say “haha, I turn into an eagle!” in response
Scanlan comes across Zanror, Kevdak’s apparent son, who is less than pleased with the herd’s recent draconic alliance
Fleeing Zanror, Scanlan comes across the surviving villagers in hiding
And back in the past, we see Grog actually protected Wilhand from Zanror. I imagine this was all just exposition during the actual tabletop sessions; I’ve been experimenting with flashback technology, but haven’t come up with anything that overcomes the fundamental hurdle of the past basically being set in stone. My solution so far has basically been to ensure the player actions are siloed within a specific tier of consequence, but that’s clearly not dramatically satisfying – though I’ve been told the Blades in the Dark system has a flashback mechanism, so I’m planning on checking that out
Grog may consider these flashbacks shameful, but he’s actually coming off quite well. It’s not an easy thing to betray your entire home and culture for a higher moral calling
Grog takes one right on the chin from Kevdak. Fortunately, he’s not called Strongjaw for nothing
Nice combination of soft focus and muffled sound design to convey Grog’s sense of dislocation as his body nears death
Also nice composition as we return to the present; with the sun filtering in through the window behind Pike, she’s essentially framed as his guardian angel, drawing him towards the light
For my next campaign, I’m definitely going to encourage more existing relations between the player characters prior to the campaign’s beginning. Building relationships between player characters during active sessions requires your players to be extremely confident actors and storytellers; assumed bonds via shared history seem like a good way to lighten that pressure
Their touching moment is interrupted by a roar from Umbrasyl
The halfling Kaylie demands Scanlan take action. Her words are underlined by a cat-person holding its cat-baby child, which seems like an altogether unfair degree of adorable pressure
And wouldn’t you know it, Umbrasyl’s got Ripley on his back. All sorts of nemeses coming home to roost
“The Hope Devourer does not give you Westruun for free.” Umbrasyl tops off his threats by melting the face of one of Kevdak’s goliaths. I can see why the herd is displeased with this whole arrangement!
Zanror actually speaks up in protest, to which Kevdak responds with two admittedly compelling counterarguments
Pike’s plan to sneak in involves Grog bluffing his way past the guards, which I imagine made for some pretty tense deception rolls. Grog’s player is exceptional at making low intelligence and charisma into dramatic assets, but enough of DnD is reliant on successful charisma-based checks that you’ll often run into hurdles like this. My current sorcerer was a low-charisma fighter in the first campaign, and having drunk from the chalice of charisma, he’s vowed to never go back
Scanlan devises a plan to sneak the villagers out of the city. This seems like an excellent way to complicate a stealth mission – I often run into the issue of my characters being too effectively stealthy to necessitate creative thinking, and adding a bunch of innocents to escort seems like a fine confounding factor
Seeing the fear in the villagers’ eyes, Grog at last resolves to take down Kevdak and end his reign of terror
“Hitting hard and being big don’t make you strong. It’s standing up for the little folk.” Ah shit, he’s found his answer!
And Done
And so Grog at last discovers the true meaning of strength, and races off to challenge his uncle Kevdak! Granted, there’s no goddamn way he can possibly win this fight, given he doesn’t have either his original strength or even a friggin’ weapon, but this nonetheless serves as a grand personal victory for our goliath companion. While the twins and Percy have tended to lead Vox Machina’s emotional drama, Grog is proving his standard comic relief role has always been one of choice rather than necessity, as he’s absolutely nailing these key emotional moments. Splitting the party has given him a welcome chance to shine, and given the utter improbability of achieving victory via on-book mechanical means, I’m now intensely curious as to how this no-win scenario will be resolved. Seriously, I’m nearing my own campaign’s conclusion here, so any tips Vox Machina can provide regarding executing impossible challenges will be appreciated. Onwards to battle!
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