Rig Progress

Okayyyy, we're finally getting somewhere with the Lil Guys.

I ended up going back to a more Wildermyth-style face for them, and I do not know why, but apparently that's unlocked a compartment in my dry, oaken heart that lets me care about them.

We also pulled a trick where we choose three blurbs from a bank of "traits" in order to get ideas flowing about what might happen to these characters or what would make good arcs/goals for them. It's cheap, but it works sometimes. Like with these three sweetie pies. Rufey's backstory absolutely writes itself, and I now adore Harold and Regelle and want them to be totally fulfilled in life.

(This is good, because any motivation to create gameplay makes game development soooo much less tedious.)

Now off to work on clothes and try to give Rufey a big carnival-barker mustache because he clearly needs one.

Attack Met

 (Early fiction for Canyons)

The realization coincided with the reaction. From his vantage point at the lookout station, Thedigan identified the approaching creature that emerged from the forest. It was a Nock, clearly turned, but what was it doing up here? As he stood up and stepped back to take aim with his musket, he heard them. Two cracks. One, high-pitched from the stick beneath his foot and the second deep and booming from the weapon in his hands. His trigger finger had jumped into action prior to receiving the message from his brain to hold. Having not yet readied his stance to fire, Thedigan found himself on the wooden floor of the platform, a dull pain to his chest, ears ringing. Frantically, he began searching for signs of the animal as the black smoke began to clear. 

“What ya be doing up there, Thed!?” Hestra yelled, moving into defensive ranks with Glent. 

“Nock, forest’s edge, can you see it?” Thedigan shouted down to them. Coughing, he scrambled to reload. 

Spear in hand, Hestra studied the terrain. Glent pulled an arrow from his quiver, thumbing its feathers. “There.” Glent pointed with his arrow, moving quietly around her to find a shot. 

“This one’s gonna need more than a couple arrows, Glent.” Hestra cautioned, fixing her eyes on the threat. 

“That’s where you come in…” Glent’s arrow found its target at the neck of the beast. Expecting the animal to recoil, his second shot missed and his third only grazed the creature’s back as it maintained its speed and path towards the wind chime.

“Thed! Your shot ready?” Hestra called up. 

Thedigan answered with another heavy crack and bellowing explosion. The sulphuric smell lingered as the dark cloud once again dissipated. A significant blow was dealt to the Nock’s right shoulder, effectively slowing its movement. Hestra narrowed her eyes.“Glent, get me another shot to that right shoulder, let’s collapse this thing.” 

“I’ve got three more, you tell me where you want the last two.” Glent’s arrow hit the wounded shoulder, causing a tremor in its front leg that refused to collapse despite its weakened state. 

“Left leg, joint.” Hestra commanded as she moved in towards the threat. Glent obeyed. With both sides compromised, the creature’s legs began to buckle. Hestra took the chance, lunging at it with her spear, Glent’s arrows paving the way for easy entry at the creature’s neck. The blow stilled the Nock.

Thedigan climbed down. “Everybody good?”

“I’m good.” Glent began retrieving and inspecting his arrows.

“Good here.” Hestra wiped off her spear, keeping firm eyes on the animal. 

“Alright, well, that misfire is my story to tell. I can spin it in a way to make Jem laugh. You’ll let me have that, right?” Thedigan begged.

“All yours, my friend.” Hestra gave his back a hard clap as she walked by, still energized by their encounter. “Don’t usually see one of those above ground.”

Returning to his post, Glent reflected, “Why do you suppose it targeted the wind chime? I could tell it wasn’t right, thing was obviously twisted, but how did it know?”

“Did it?” Thedigan wondered, cleaning his musket. “I saw it didn’t look well but this thing’s a bit of a process, lost eyes on the target for a bit.” 

Hestra liked an opening. “It certainly appeared determined, but who knows, maybe Jemanna is dumping her magic compost there and the thing liked the smell. Someone’s got to.” 

Thedigan gave her enough of a look to satisfy his commitment, and the three sat back, passing around a bottle of fermented juniper. “Happy to discover what we can salvage from that thing tomorrow. Know it’s gonna stink more, but I’m thinking there’s nothing there that we should be eating. At least until we know a bit more.”

“I’m good with that.” Glent sighed, leaning back on to his pack. 

“Good here.” Hestra closed her eyes, limbs letting go of the threat.

Thedigan stood and climbed back up to his post, taking his spot at the edge of the platform. Words began to form for the story he’d tell Jemanna. Eyes on the perimeter, he went back to cleaning his musket. Always hard to sleep with her smile in his mind.  

The Path They Took

(Early fiction for Canyons)

“I know it’s not a wind chime, but it was a good idea.” Benigar gave a tight smile. Mae’s compliments were few and far between but he’d enjoy it more if he hadn’t noted the anxiety in her pitch. Before they set out, Benigar fastened some clustered pieces of glass, hardware, and various trinkets to his and Mae’s packs. They produced more of a jangle than a jingle, but served well at drowning out the silence. “Even makes me feel a bit safer, silly as it is.” She watched the collection on her brother’s pack jump and dance as he tramped ahead of her. The path before them appeared curved, as if it had been intentionally carved through a maturing forest. It was the forest itself, however, that encroached on the road, hungrily chewing away at a once straightforward trade route that connected multiple outposts to their regional stronghold. The change felt gradual to those that regularly traversed the path, but carried an element of foreboding. Lush, vibrant, and robust greenery wilted and withered but instead of shrinking back, it grew emboldened; seemingly decaying tree branches and rotting vines stretched and grasped as if their purpose was to cross the road. It was at this point that work animals refused the path. Perhaps a trophy from bygone days, a splintered wagon wheel remained visible enough to tell the story of winners and losers along this path. Gnarled roots and noxious weeds erupted greedily between its axles. “Do you suppose…” Mae’s voice trailed off as she glanced into the tangled woods behind it. The forest hummed softly back. “We keep walking, Mae!” Benigar’s hand roughly pulled back on Mae’s shoulder. She looked down at her ankles, suddenly stinging with fresh bites from the thorny brush. Benigar took a firm hold of Mae’s hand that lay limply at her side. The twenty foot walk back to the trail felt like wading through water. “Sorry, I just…” Mae stammered, her tongue heavy as she tried to remember what compelled her to stop. “Guess I’m stuck going at your tiny pace.” Benigar smirked, exaggerating his stride in quick, miniature steps while glancing at the noisemaker he fashioned, chest pounding. “Guess so.” Mae took a swig of her canteen, feeling the cool water run down her throat and into her stomach. Her body felt hers again. She watched as their legs moved in unison, Benigar’s brown-booted foot dwarfing hers. She focused on the beat their steps produced, the pulse propelling her forward. Benigar gave her hand a light squeeze. “We’ll get there soon.”

Exploring Tone and Narrative

As the early stages of development move along and we find ourselves with awesome map and character generators, one of the things I was excited to explore is tone and narrative. Who are these folks, what are their backstories, how dangerous is this world and how does that reality impact their daily lives and attitudes? 

Much like Wildermyth, I imagine these guys generally being average folk that just want to live their lives, maybe even just survive. They'll rise to the occasion when it's demanded of them, and some will be very heroic! While their brief stories may only exist here, getting into these guys' heads has been a lot of fun, and in early game development, helpful to refining our story and setting. 

The following are four short character snapshots in Canyons early fiction:

-Renelle-

We found our own spot here in the canyons shortly after Freisen began talking. It was important to me that I be the one to control the narrative. My own childhood was filled with stories, unpleasant ones. Stories to stoke fear. Stories that serve as warnings. But I wasn’t a fearful kid, and warnings felt more like invitations. Only took once or twice, though, sending my parents into a panic, to realize I didn’t have the stomach for disobedience. So I stayed close, followed rules, and confined all wandering to my mind. It was a satisfying act of mini-rebellion: re-imagining the stories I had been told over and over again and crafting my own versions. They’re not void of unpleasantries, since for me, those were some of the most interesting parts. Storytelling has been a favorite activity for Freisen and I; we take turns continuing each other's cliffhangers. I love a good impossible moment, it sets Freisen up perfectly to see us rescued or escape in some totally absurd way. The boy definitely knows how to make me smile. Mean toxic mushrooms seem to be a favorite villain of his, funny how stubborn our imaginations can be.

It was Freisen that noticed it first, the bitter taste to the air. Kids and their judgmental palates. It’s been so long that we’ve been out here, I’d forgotten it. 

When he was younger, I’d say that our world’s unpredictable, and unpredictable is interesting. But parenting insists on a sense of humor: Freisen had the freedom I never did but is more than happy to sit by an ant colony outside our tent and watch the tiny workers for hours. “They always know what to do and where to go,” he’ll marvel. Easy to miss the scout. 

As someone that’s always felt a tug toward any type of boundary, I’ve become largely familiar with the outskirts of our homestead and beyond some. After Freisen’s observation, I have been closely monitoring the woodland edge for signs, for any evidence of change. The trees tell stories too, the warning kind. 

I know it was faulty logic, thinking that our homestead here, void of fear and worry, is somehow any safer than the one I grew up in. I suppose it’s time that Freisen learns about our world. We’ll need to make a choice, and he deserves to be prepared for whichever gamble we take. 

Mom: Renelle Aspenstone
Optimistic Wanderer, History: Strict Upbringing, Focus on the Big Picture, Sweet Tooth

Son: Freisen Aspenstone
Shy Animal Lover, Easily Entertains Self, Got Poison Ivy, Plays Instrument

***

-Mae-

From The Unsent Letters Collection, Whitton family 

Dear Shenley, 

I like to joke that I’m not sure we’re up for this, but really, I feel like Benigar and I can get things going here. At least to the point it needs to be to get the three of you out here. Dad’s been warning us about his impending demise since before you were born and ha- that was a whole eleven years ago! 

Under different conditions, I would have argued to bring you with us. I hope you know that. Another set of eyes would be huge, every bit of exploration would help as we assess our place in this canyon. You’ve always had the sharpest eyes of us three. Sorry to say though, but in the end, it was the right call. The path we carved to get here might have swallowed you. Keep your head down, keep moving. It became our march at one point, Benigar and I lockstep with each other for the last leg of the journey. 

It’s a weird thing, us being the ones to secure the new homestead, responsibility just flipped one day. Haven’t quite figured out if it’s a matter of Mom and Dad trusting us more or lacking trust in themselves. You’ll keep an eye on them, right?

We do make a competent duo though. Benigar can take one glance at the layout here and know, structurally, exactly where to place our tent and in which direction, but sometimes his confidence and hastiness misses details like nesting crabs and blooming shrubs that could easily provide next month’s supper. But you know me, I’m always thinking ahead when it comes to food. Nutty chanterelles under the ancient fir, fragrant sage on the breeze– brain’s already stewing for tomorrow. Just have to mind Benigar a bit, make sure he doesn’t build his workbench on top a bunch of fiddleheads. He’s a decent lookout though. Remember how annoying he’d be at night? Up for hours, stomping about… I appreciate it now, if you can believe it. Him being able to get by on only a few hours of sleep spares us both my morning grump. 

Still, will be good to get you all here, so I hope this spot works out. There’s a vulnerability to being a duo, which is not wasted on me. While chopping some wood earlier, I saw Benigar catch a rock with his toe as he carried a few logs to the woodshed. Sadly, we don’t have the luxury of clumsiness right now. 

I know I probably won’t get the chance to send this-- the path we traveled isn’t exactly one traversed by messengers at the moment– but in a weird way, it feels good to talk to you. I miss you, Shenley. Have a potato cake for me, Mom always did make the best ones. And take care of yourselves. We’re doing our best for you.  

With love, 

Mae

Sister: Mae Whitton
Cautious Wanderer, Sharp Eyes, Sensitive to Smells, Strong Moral Compass

Brother: Benigar Whitton
Fiery Builder, Self-Assured, Loves Starting a Job, History of Responsibility 

***

-Tulana-

Don’t know why I haven’t learned my lesson by now, when it comes to following Sonnya. She always makes the mundane sound like a grand adventure. And then it just ends up being mundane. She told me she heard Auntie Dorimina talking about the rise in attacks. Seems to think that there are too many of us here in one spot, that the wind chimes aren’t as effective as they used to be when our numbers were smaller. Honestly, that would be better than finding out the wind chimes are just not working the way they used to. So Sonnya said she’ll run a reconnaissance mission. Find a remote spot, set up camp, and “see what we can see.”

Thing with Sonnya, though– there’s always a mission behind the mission. Our last riveting expedition was supposed to be a foraging mission. Sonnya lured me with the promise of fresh juniper berries, pretty essential to making wild porcupig palatable, in my opinion. Damn things take so long to ripen, it made sense the location of the shrubs was recorded. At least Sonnya’s not a liar, I’ll give her that. She’s the perfect amount of a lot of things, and wickedly persuasive– it’s infuriating. So yeah, the berries were there, they were ripe, we’d harvest them and I’d look forward to a fine meal. Almost fantastic. Always just almost. Because it turns out, our other reason for being there was grave robbing. 

Turns out that the locations of old tombs are also recorded, and this one was right next to my patch of junipers.  A mellow morning hike and berry picking mission became fourteen hours of grueling excavation. Digging, moving stones– how did I not notice the shovel in her knapsack on our way in? Dirt and rock and rock and dirt until my back declined to continue. But every mission is a success for Sonnya, by her own assessment at least. Our skeletal friend had been waiting all these years to bestow upon her a small book, bound by a gamey hide, fur and all. I’m sure Sonnya purposely waited until she procured her prize to notice the look on my face, but once she did, the book went straight to her back pocket, she gathered her share of berries, and we traveled the path home to our beds. With great restraint, I only used a handful of our precious haul to season a single carafe of nighttime brew and saved the rest for pork. 

So this reconnaissance mission. Per usual, it sounded pretty good at first. Sonnya sold it as a culinary inspiration expedition. Forage for new herbs and spices, note their fragrance and locations. Brew them to see how they open up and change in profile. She knows me too well. We’ve been here for 11 days. Day 1, we found a nice vantage spot, set up camp and our perimeter of wind chimes. Day 2 and 3, she held up her end of the promise and we collected some interesting samples. Excited to experiment, I asked Sonnya what all she brought, to get some meal planning going. Turns out all the food for this trip was on me to pack because Sonnya’s knapsack was on a different mission. 

I’m hungry. Sliced root, boiled root, root paste… getting tired of caveroots. And still nothing of interest to report for this mission of hers. Sonnya sits by the campfire at night reading her furry little book and spends the days collecting resin, herbs, hardwoods. She seems to be crafting things. But then also burning them. I’m guessing she senses my mood, because she hasn’t bothered asking me to help with whatever weird thing she’s doing. Sonnya says we’ll head back next week if still nothing shows, which is fine by me. But not long after she said that, I felt the chill of a suspiciously quiet evening breeze…

Tulana Feldgold:
Grumpy Hearthkeeper, Likes High Quality, Bored Easily, History: Lonely Childhood

Sonnya Willendeep:
Fiery Lorekeeper, Likes a Gamble, Weird Ideas, Has Scar

***

-Thedigan-

From the Journal of Thedigan Pinyon, first entry: 

When Elder Raflin asked for volunteers to establish the next defensive outpost, there was no way I was going to hesitate– snatched the opportunity up immediately. Jemanna has been a little more wary though, keeps asking what my plan is. Plan is to find a promising spot! She’s got a way with plants, I’ve got a way with my hands– it’s not like we don’t know the recipe by now. Just the privacy alone– I thought that would be enough to get her on board with it, I know she wants that as much as I do. Abandoning the eastern meadow homestead was the right call, nobody doubted it, but it sure got crowded around here. Had to let Raflin’s nephew bunk with us a few weeks ago when the bug was going around and that was rough. Eight days felt like forty. 

I’m not against plans, and I want Jem to trust that we can do this together, but I’m also not sure what else there is to do or prepare. Once we find our spot, get set up, the next course of action should be pretty obvious, right?

And really, with what we’ve been living, I’m more concerned about the folks staying behind than I am about us. Raflin seems to think they can manage and that the new outpost will serve as one more front that buys the stronghold some relief. I sort of think it’s too far gone here. Hostility grows, goes unchecked, and Raflin responds with curfews. Used to be able to push back a bit, now it seems we barely maintain our perimeter. 

Still, I’m never one to kill a mood. Not gonna do it on my way out the door either. Me and Jem will set off tomorrow, find a cozy spot– one that hasn’t been twisted yet– and start work on the new outpost. I’m feeling good about it! I know Jem probably meant this notebook to be used in some practical way- sketching the area, documenting flora and fauna, making checklists and stuff like that, but I know she’s going to love reading back on our valiant endeavors one day and be happy I did it. She seems pretty comforted already to see me writing in this! So on the topic of my dear partner’s morale, I’m going to go find some extra odds and ends to add to my knapsack, while she’s watching of course.

Thedigan Pinyon:
Kind Crafter, Cool Under Pressure, Business Savvy, Hearty Appetite 

Jemanna Robiner:

Serious Plant Lover, Skeptical, Likes Kids, Has Vivid Dreams 

Combat Blurps

For a long time, we had a constraint on ourselves of, "What if we just avoided combat as much as possible? Will that make us come up with more creative mechanics?" Now, the more we spin our wheels, the more we're realizing that maybe combat does add a lot of stakes and activity and all that fun stuff, and maybe we can just have it. But it's not going to look the same as combat in, say, Rimworld. We have a different view, and I think we want things to be less chaotic and deadly. A lot of the time, you'll have 2-12 scrappy little steaders, and you're giving them orders in what's essentially a giant ant farm. What might actually happen in those circumstances?...

1. A wave of crablins is harassing your stead. You've got a few dudes, and you've got two muskets and a couple big pokey poles, like pitchforks or whatever. You'll want people on the muskets, and you'll want at least one person standing in front of the shooters, poking the crablins and keeping them at a distance. Any extra folks, you can decide if you want them on stick-duty, or aiding the muskets. If you have one person who's got way better aim than everyone else, you might even want to set up a system where Buddy is loading the second musket while Crackshot shoots the first, then they swap. Might be smarter.

2. Oh no, some crablins stole your hardware and cloth! Crablins are notorious for stealing stuff from you and taking it back to their nests in the haunted forests. They can run through the tangly roots blocking haunted tunnels, but you have to machete through. It's worth finding these nests and taking them out, though. You get your stuff back, and probably some sweet loot that they took from other people/settlements a long time ago too.

You can get in there with your fighters and get the stuff, but crablins will keep congregating in this spot. You could clear them out for good if you spray griffin scent around, they're terrified of griffins. But for that, you're either going to need to craft something out of some griffin monsterparts (ew), or you're going to need a tamed griffin to come sleep and pee in the place for a few days (ew but lol).

3. There's a big open cavern with a evil haunted tree in the middle of it. It's got nasty bats all flyin' around it. Maybe the bats are flyin' out of the tree! You've got to dispose of that tree to make the forest stop being haunted so you can live there. You could run in with your musket-teams I guess. That'd be hard and slow. Or you could do other things:

• You could build a smoke machine that grounds and slows the bats, so that they're easier to deal with while you're chopping that tree. And you could strap it to a wagon and wheel it in, or you could build it in a pocket of space underneath the tree and run some pipes up into the cavern. Your guys don't like the smoke either though, so they're gonna need some facial protection.
• You could build net-launchers that take bats out of the fight for a period of time before they gnaw themselves free.
• You could have somebody luring bats out of one tunnel by waving around meat or making certain noises, then you could have a trap where you collapse the entrance to the tunnel and cut the bats off from the main cavern. Gotta make sure your little bat-bait guy will be okay though.
  
  

4. There's a slumbering giant pinespider covering an ore vein you really want to get at. It's going to take a long time to kill it, and it's dangerous. You can pull the little trick where you shoot it from a tunnel that it's too big to fit through, but it can dig pretty fast when it gets mad. You could try your luck with off-the-cuff kiting, or, before you wake it up, you could set up a series of barricades with tiny openings that you can fall back through as you fight.

Other thoughts: Are there times when you'd want to find or dig a tunnel to get height advantage over somebody? Drop something on them? A time when you'd want to divert water into an area? What kinds of traps can you set up? Traps are fun, can be created through giving orders to guys, and you get to feel clever when they work.

ProtoRig

 Where'd we leave off with the rig?

I'd been planning out the shapes for heads and bodies:

Theoretically, we could split faces into two parts: eyes/brows and nose/mouth. With the taller set of heads, the nose/mouth portion would scale separately to fit the head size.

I took a stab at a starter set of images:

And Nate built a character lab so that we could see what those pieces looked like put together:

• I've set up the Photoshop files so that we'll eventually be able to try and move their pupils around, but these are just "flattened" eyes for now.
• The names are lifted from the old Wildermyth name generator, which we'll update at some point. They help spark ideas though.
• The colors are also lifted from Wildermyth. Man, it's convenient having an existing bank of colors for hair & skin that feel plausible.
• Eventually, we'll have a range of squashing and stretching that the bodies will do to simulate different heights. Preliminary squashing in Photoshop was promising; you could squash quite a bit before it started to look janky. But for now, everyone is "tall."

Around this time, we decided that giving the colonists shoulders and a neck would be an improvement. I also filled out a few more faces and hairstyles to get a better gestalt of these guys:

I did a quick test with beady eyes as well, but it looked pretty bad, at least with the current head and face proportions. I want to give the eyes-with-moveable pupils a solid try. If we hate it later for some reason, I can fall back to reworking the faces to fit beady eyes better.

We're getting some little guys now! There's a magic tipping point where upon looking at any one of them, I switch from "ugh what even is this," to "Hello!! Who do we have here? Ohhhh I know who you are, I can probably make up a backstory and character arc for you on the spot. And we'll fix your weird jawline later, don't worry, you'll feel much better... Anyway, welcome!"

It's still early though, obviously. The longer/taller heads are going to need more attention, they still look awkward sometimes, but they can simmer for now. The next thing I want to build out is a starter set of outfit pieces to mix and match.

Vegetation I

 

We'll have some background vegetation, some of which will be interactive and some of which might not. I hope it'll add some prettiness to the caverns/grottos/canyons. It seems possible to get vegetation and rocks feeling backgroundy enough that they don't visually obscure the figures.

The big trees will grow from saplings, is the idea. So that you don't just wipe all the majestic trees off the map.

I've got a couple sets for Nate to put in once he's ready, and we'll see how weird it looks and eventually figure out how you interact with these things. Or anything, really.

First Sketches: Rig Body Shapes

Hopefully I'll start in on foundations for a character rig soon. Because we won't be showcasing limbs as much, this means that we can have more different body types.

At first I was thinking I'd need to have different rigs for tall & short figures, but testing it out, we should be able to get away with just scaling for stature. This would be great news because it means art hours go to more outfits, faces and hairs, and less to redrawing the same content.

Speaking of redrawing though, not having classes with specific armor tied to them means that every character can wear every outfit. This should theoretically be okay:

(The hair scribbles aren't significant, they're just helping with the gestalt.)

I'm planning to start with masculine and feminine versions of 4 types: slim, medium, brawny, and round. 8 rigs, which should be manageable.

We're gonna downplay the lower body a lot, BUT we would like people to be able to sit down on chairs in this game. (Getting ambitious, y'all.) Which means that joint around the hips will be a little tricky to work around. If I want a higher-waisted outfit, regular old suspenders, anything like that, I might need to think it through.

Chasm Farming

More elevators!

Vertical irrigation!

Fish ponds and water filters that look like serving dishes for some reason!

I have a sinking feeling this whole water thing would be quite complicated if we implemented it, so I am glad Nate is a systems guy, and I trust him to not get in over his head.

Appreciation

We were talking about how cooking might work, like how much food is cooked at one time, how it's stored and consumed, etc. I mentioned that despite whatever the optimal game design is, I did not want to keep track of colonists' food likes and dislikes.

As a person who makes meals for three picky children in real life, turns out my ultimate gameplay fantasy is "everyone eats the same thing for dinner and likes it." Go figure.

I jokingly added, "AND ALSO whoever cooked the food is highly regarded."

Nate said that hey actually, there was something to that. 

Maybe the person who cooked the stew does get a little social bump from the people who ate it. And maybe the person who harvested the potatoes gets a social bump from the cook. Maybe the doctor gets appreciated by their patients. Maybe the wall-builder appreciates the person who helped them haul stone. All that would be on top of the normal social bumps that people would get from interaction "events" (advising, teaching, complimenting, gift-giving, etc). You could have a world where not only are the colonists doing work, but they're appreciating each other's work, driving a chunk of that organic under-the-hood growth of relationships over time.

It's hard to think through whether that would create weird game incentives, but I bet we could get around them and try to keep the "appreciation" economy relatively balanced.