Sunday, October 7, 2018

What does chivalry get me anyway? Or sociopathy, for that matter? (Design Domingo #16)

Chivalrous people are recognized by their ideals, behavior, and reputation. Although six different traits are admired, chivalry does not hold a person to have a minimum value in all of the requisite traits, as does religious virtue. Instead, chivalry strives for an average high quality from among them. If a character has a total of 45 or more in those traits which are appropriate to their chosen domain of chivalry (an average of 7 or 8 in each), they may become chivalrous. First, though, they must swear an oath to their lord to always do the following (the oath is the same, regardless of in which domain a character expresses their chivalry): “To protect and succor the widow, the orphan, the poor; not to slay or deny a vanquished and defenseless adversary; not to take part in a false judgment or treason, or to withdraw if it cannot be prevented; to never give evil counsel to another; to help, if possible, a fellow being in distress.” Once they swear this oath, your character gains the benefits of being a chivalrous person. If their total in the requisite traits should ever drop below 45 for any reason, they lose the chivalrous benefits until such a time as their requisite scores once again total 45 or higher.

The six virtues of the battlefield are Generous, Energetic, Modest, Just, Merciful, and Valorous. Martial chivalry gives a supernatural boon called the Armor of Honor, which reduces the damage from each attack that hits those who follow it by 6. In addition, such people gain a +1 bonus on any roll involving social interaction.

The six virtues of the home are Chaste, Energetic, Honest, Modest, Prudent, and Temperate. Domestic chivalry gives a +1 on any roll involving social interaction and, whenever such a character receives money (whether being paid, selling something, performing their occupation, just plain charity, or any other reason), they receive an additional 25%.

The six virtues of the heart are either Chaste or Lustful (depending on the nature of your love), Forgiving, Generous, Honest, Arbitrary, and Reckless. However, the Courts of Love are even more demanding than the chivalry of war or seneschalry; to follow the chivalry of love, a character must have a beloved. The precise nature of the amorous affair is shaped by the individuals involved; it may be chaste or not, as long as it is devoted, consumes much of their time and energy, and is not unrequited. Despite the scandalous nature of adultery, romantic chivalry recalls old Galatic practices of polyamory, and so monogamy is not required. The lover must also have five or more ranks in in three of the following skills: Animal Empathy, Craft, Perform, Diplomacy, Linguistics, Gaming, Listening, or Archetype skills. The beloved, of course, decides which three skills — i.e., those that they find most appealing in a potential mate. At least once per year, the lover must prove their passion for their beloved by doing their bidding, occasionally even under duress. This activity must be played out, either with the party or solitaire. Finally, the lover must entertain their beloved with presents or entertainments worth at least 100 gold pieces per year. Romantic chivalry gives a +5 bonus to any roll which furthers their romance with their beloved. In addition, its devotees receive a +1 bonus to all social rolls for every successful year they have maintained their love affair, even if their love was kept secret throughout the year.

Taken together, a character’s religious and chivalric focus ~ whether or not the character lives up to their ideals ~ are referred to as that character’s alignments. They generally function similarly to D&D and Pathfinder’s alignment systems. If one needed to, one could consider the religious focus to be the equivalent of the moral axis (Good v. Evil) and the chivalric focus that of the ethical axis (Law v. Chaos). A character’s alignments, however, are not the only extreme state your character might find themself in.

Soldiers, bonesaws, and almsgivers know about getting callous. When you’ve seen enough horror, it loses its power to horrify you. The higher one of your Hardened Tramas gets, the more it takes for that kind of stress to rip up your head. Once your Hardened Trauma reaches 10, you’re so jaded and blasé about it that nothing in that category of stress can endanger your mind. This is not a good thing. Mental stress makes us vulnerable. But it also makes us human. If your Hardened Traumas rise too high, you become so completely callous that you are unable to feel fear at all. That’s because you are now cut off from a broad range of emotional experiences that everyone else shares. You’re “hardened” all right: hardened into an emotional fortresses, completely isolated, unable to make a fundamental connection with other human beings.

You’re a sociopath:
~You become a sociopath when you have a score of 10 in two or more Hardened Traumas, or when the total sum of your Hardened Traumas exceeds thirty-five.
~You can no longer gain bonuses from your alignments. You just can’t relate to such intense states of soul and mind anymore.
~You cannot use or benefit from divine magics until you begin to feel again. The gods rely on an empathic connection to grant their power to mortals, and sociopaths slam that particular door shut.

Getting callous towards threats is a dead-end street. Where’s the challenge in being a null? What’s the excitement in deadening your head? It also cuts off options. Your emotional inputs are clogged. True, you don’t get scared when something nasty happens. But you also couldn’t care less when something good happens. You’re so emotionally insulated you can’t feel a damn thing. Nothing is worth doing because you know there is no payoff. No pleasure, no sensation of success, no satisfaction in camaraderie. It all loses meaning. It may be that you dig this for a while. If you approach it as an opportunity to give you and your group interesting problems, maybe there’s some value there. But you can’t maintain it for long. The bonds that hold you to the group don’t last when you’re a walking corpse. Make some trouble, explore this terrain, and then fight your way back to life. When you’re ready to fight back to human feelings, don’t just roll dice. Talk it out. What drove you to this strange place? The rest of your group can help. They might take the roles of other people interacting with you for a bit, asking questions and probing to the heart of where you went wrong. Then roll the dice.

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