I really liked the concept of this game, and I’ll share some house rules I created for two one-shots that I played today, in case anyone is interested in having an alternative gameplay dynamic.
The first rule is that the adventures take place in apocalyptic settings because it's a quick and practical way to introduce and justify creatures, for me. Among the themes I put together, my players chose to defend a base from a horde of L4D zombies for the first adventure, and schizophrenic beggars fighting psycho coaches, trying to impress a Gordon Ramsay doppelganger who refuses to taste the food, in a cosmic Hell’s Kitchen, for the second adventure. Each game lasted between 20 and 40 minutes, excluding the time I set for the game to run like a life simulator, with action points per round indicating what can and cannot be done by each player, interpreted only during the challenge phases. During the training phase, it’s an introspective interaction with the cosmic baby. I don’t have much free time to play with my few friends, so the whole game needs to be carefully timed to start, progress, and finish. For that, action points are very important for time management without sacrificing the fun of roleplaying. I set up a D6 dynamic, where 1-2 is an absolute failure, 3-4 is a partial failure with something going the way you want, 5 is a partial success with something not going your way, and 6 is a total success, where everything goes as planned. The attributes influence the magnitude of the action but not the action’s execution. Someone trying to persuade will roll the same dice and values as everyone else but might get more results and options than someone with lower values.
The second rule is that I turned the adventure into a free-for-all, Highlander style “there can be only one”, where the three players made their cosmic horrors and had to compete in three specific challenges: one involving the body, one for the mind, and one for the senses. The winner of each challenge chooses whether to save a partial success for the future or claim the right to deny someone else’s success, parcial or total, later, using it anytime as a free action from the cosmic baby. In the progress table I made, where each action point milestone brings you closer to the end (in my game, this spans 1 year/100 AP), the players’ interactions with the evolution of the four pre-defined attributes are well-defined: Flex Seal represents HP/MP; Alex Jones is the social attribute; Fuck This Shit I’m Out is the combat/physical attribute; and My Name is Jeff is the mental attribute. The attributes range from 1 to 4, since, as I mentioned earlier, they indicate magnitude (minimal, little, enough, and much), all designed to focus more on roleplaying than mechanics. The game ends after the third challenge, and whoever accumulates the most points from the challenges—which work on a talent-show logic from 1 to 10, with scoring from critics and popularity from the audience (spirits)—becomes the ruler of that reality, but only as the most powerful puppet of something superior. If, for any reason, a player is eliminated, I’ve prepared spirit character sheets, where the eliminated player continues to influence the game in the role of the audience, either helping or sabotaging whoever they want, using a D6 to modify situations. In the zombie stronghold, for example, a player who died early made it so that a one dangerous breach in the barricades was actually sealed, and the zombies were directed to attacking a distant point from the actual location of the two remaining players. The spirits don’t alter the game’s condition, but they guide what’s happening toward their interests.
The third rule is that I made the relationship with the cosmic baby parasitic, and its interference requires a sacrifice of Flex Seal. I established a five-state logic (5 being the best and 1 the worst), and the cosmic baby’s interference is progressive and permanent. Using it once consumes 1; using it a second time consumes 2; using it a third time consumes 3, and so on. As long as you find a way to keep taking damage, you can use it as much as you want, but the cost never decreases, only increases, adding more weight to this Deux Ex Machina interference.
The fourth point, which is more of a comment than a rule, is that although the font used in the PDF has a really cool and beautiful rune-like aesthetic, I found it uncomfortable to read. Besides English not being my native language, I wear glasses, and the ends of the letters seem to strangely rise and fall. Even when I focus, I can’t distinguish between, for example, Y, K, and G. So, if anyone else has this problem, I suggest putting the file (I preferred the booklet version) in a PDF editor with text and just changing the font to something uglier but more legible.
I really enjoyed the concept, and thanks for sharing! :)
P.S; A brief experience of mine. When it was my turn to play, instead of being the GM, I begged my cosmic baby for help when a zombie horde knocked down the tower I was in and i pray for guidance, 1d6=3, Blisva just made me fall healthy to the ground to be devoured fresh because I hadn't taken a shower and was dirty injury because I rolled in the flooded sewer to save myself earlier. Thanks Blisva!