Choose your own adventure - Planescape

[Eldan]

Sigil's sky is grey. It always is, after all, there is nothing there, no moon or stars or sun. It is also overcast with slate-grey smog and slightly lighter coloured mist that is threatening rain. Perhaps there is some kind of ironic justice in the fact that the most valuable piece of real estate in the known multiverse, the City of Doors, Crossroads of the Planes, is a piece of grey rock, where nothing grows and nothing lives other than cynics, rats and carrion-eaters. Some are all three.

The last round of these (one of which was run by myself, though it was rather disastrous, another was a Dresden Files version by Xefas, which was excellent) died out, amongst other things due to a lack of players. However, I think they might fight quite well in his board, rather than the more or less abandoned Structured Games. I'll also follow (vaguely) a published adventure, to give myself some direction.

The idea is this. There will be a short bit of story. Then, people can make a decision. I will give a few options, people can suggest others. After 24 hours-ish, I'll tally and we'll move on.

There will be rules, vaguely based on a simplified FATE system. Don't worry, you don't have to know it, I'll just make the occasional roll.

Let's start with a few questions for character generation, on the quick.

What kind of creature are you?
>Human. Pure and simple.
>Well, humanoid. (Elf, halfling, dwarf, something like that)
>Quite Monstrous humanoid. (Thri-Kreen, Lizardman, Kobold, something like that.)
>Outsider. Not a powerful one, mind you. (Demon, Devil, Modron, suggest one.)
>Other (suggest one).

What's your special power?
>I am a sorcerer. Well, a bit of one.
>I have psionic gifts.
>I have an innate connection to one of the planes.
>I'm undead. It's occasionally handy.
>I'm a shapeshifter.
>Occasionally, a god talks to me and gives me power (suggest a god)
>Oh, nothing like that. I don't need magical talents.
>Other (suggest one)

And your area of expertise?
>I take bits of metal and stick them into people.
>I, uhm, occasionally find myself in possession of things which sort of, uhm, belong to other people.
>I'm incredibly charming.
>Information. If someone wants to know it, I do.
>I'm a philosopher.
>I'm an alchemist.
>I'm a fantastic gardener.
>Other (suggest one)

How well do you know the City of Sigil?
>Every wall and alley, cutter.
>Been here a few years, now. Know my way around.
>Travelled through a few times, never stopped.
>Sigil? Like, a family crest?

You're down on your luck. Why?
>Never had any. Started at the bottom, working my way up, now.
>Lost all my money gambling.
>On the run from the law. Totally not my fault.
>Got lost in the City. Can't find a door out.
>I was kicked out of school.
>Someone tried to murder me and burned my house down. I'm hiding.

[Anti-Eagle]

Interesting. Played with a dartboard, cleaned it up a bit and got the below.

>Human. Pure and simple.
>I am a sorcerer. Well, a bit of one.
>Information. If someone wants to know it, I do.
>Every wall and alley, cutter.
>Never had any. Started at the bottom, working my way up, now.

[Eldan]

Oh well. One vote is better than nothing.

The hive is a cruel place. The multiverse's biggest slum, it takes up a large sector of Sigil. In places, it has been a thousands years since any kind of planned development took place and the people live in ruins stacked on ruins stacked on ruins. There is work, of course, since people always find something to do. Sigil is a travel hub of unimaginable size, with many thousands coming and going every day and so, there are always newcomers to swindle, cheat, rob and murder. There is faction work, for those who are not yet too cynical to pretend to care about some philosophy, but few Hivers ever gain a significant rank. Then, of course, there's all the allied trades that come with preying on the non-locals: gangs, fences, prostitutes, gamblers, mercenaries, adventurers. Information Brokers.
That last one would have been you, then. You grew up in a gang, of course. Everyone in the hive does, in some way. Good old Gutterbloods. Then, your magic came in and you found better things to do. Spying. Selling what you found out. Knowing people who know people. Small stuff, most of the time, you're after all hardly the first one among three hundred thousand hivers to have that idea.
But you had enough of it. You need a better job. Adventuring is where the money is, for them as have powers. That, or faction work, of course, but the factions are just bigger gangs. You've done that before. No, you've seen adventurers. Swaggering around taverns brandishing more magic than the average college and throwing gold around as if they weren't afraid of anything. That what you want to be.
Of course, you have never left the city, and you wouldn't know how one starts being an adventurer. So, small steps. Luckily, you have found something that seems just about ideal: a poster, put up on a wall:

"Wanted: tough bashers for dirty, but legal work. Protection, Investigation, probably Monster hunting. Room and board guaranteed, payment in silver upon success. No Factions. Inquire with Yuma Breeth, The Whispered Word, Grey District.

Sounds almost like adventuring, just local. Plus, the Grey District is a good area, at least compared to most of the Hive. It's barely in it, for one. The buildings have actual stone walls. Now, it is around the Great Mortuary, where most of Sigil's dead end up, and half the district works for it, directly or indirectly, but that just means that most locals have regular work. And the Dustmen, the district's local faction, are less unpleasant than most, in a quietly disturbing way. No, you're taking that job.

The Whispered Word is a quiet place, for a tavern, but then, that comes from the location. The owner, however, has gone quite a distance to fit the theme. Heavy grey curtains are drawn over every window, shutting out what little light even Sigil's grey light could offer. The tables, each arranged in a small booth along the walls, are shaped like coffin lids. There is a faint smell of incense in the air and the stone pillars have dancing skeletons carved into them. The clientele is small, now, in the middle of the day, just a small group of dustmen. They are unmistakeable with their dour, still expressions, shaved heads, sunken eyes, protruding cheekbones and grey-brown robes, sipping water or colourless alcohol of some kind in silence.

The bartender is a tall man of late middle age. Completely bald, with a nose that looks like it has been broken a half-dozen times and old and faded tiny scars all over his face and hairy arms. He must have been impressively muscular, once, but now, he has bit of a beer gut under his leather apron, though his hands are still large and heavy. As you slam the poster down on the counter, he looks you up and down and asks: "Name?"


What do you reply?
>My name is (suggest one)
>None of your business.

What do you look like, anyway
>Typical hive kid. Twenty pounds under normal weight, head at about belly height on a normal man, but quick and wiry.
>Tall. Quite tall. Muscular, too, in a beefy sort of way. At first glance, people would think you a bruiser, not a thinker.
>Dishevelled, is the word that comes to mind. A bit smaller than average, unwashed, crumpled clothes, mud on the boots. But tough, too, with a look in your eyes that makes people not want to talk to you.
>Unassuming. Medium height, medium colour, medium weight, medium age. It's key in the business.

Character Sheet


Stress and injuries:
0

Fate Points:
3 (3)

Aspects:
Gutter Sorcerer
City Rat
Information Broker

Stunts and Powers:
Sorcery
Ear to the Ground

Skills:
Contacts: Excellent (+4)

Lore: Good (+3, Sigil)

[Anti-Eagle]

This may fare better in one of the RP forums. I couldn't tell you which one though.

>My name is... Arim
>Unassuming. Medium height, medium colour, medium weight, medium age. It's key in the business.