Dynamics Challenges
Dynamics challenges require a character to respond to change based on previous actions. For instance, plants grow or wither based on how the protagonist cared for them, in turn affecting which paths are accessible.
Characters respond differently when revisiting a room with new or lost inventory.
In the swashbuckler, “The Helm,” characters and the environment react differently based on the protagonist’s inventory.
• Although initially uncooperative, the prisoner and the cook become more amenable and offer clues once the protagonist finds and dons the captain’s tricorn.
• Initially, the parrot is noisy and uncooperative, making it difficult for the protagonist to think. The parrot falls asleep when given pistachio nuts acquired from the cook. This allows the protagonist to take the key from around the bird’s neck to unlock the bosun’s quarters and advance the story.
The Helm
Port Eldoro, 1715
On the Pier
I stand beside the Ocean Raider. The captain, led away by the Royal Navy, shouts a message. Wait, … is he singing?
Our galleon carries success,
a treasure chest of gold.
Alas, I give this last request,
so do as you are told.
The Royal Navy slung a rope,
dragging my ship in tow.
Do not let them keep her in dock.
Escape this curs’d foe.
Break loose the bond upon the bow.
Set sail for pirate realm.
They will give me to Davy Jones,
but you I give the helm.
The ship has two decks, upper and lower.
Take the ladder down to the …
Lower Deck
It’s worse than a rat’s nest in a storm down here. There are things you can’t take with you, so there’s no use describing them, raising false hopes.
Portside, there’s the bosun’s quarters. Starboard, the brig. A foul odour all around.
Check the brig.
Dark, damp, and smells like regret. Inside is a shoeless mutineer known to swim like a frog. He’s snoring softly like he hasn’t a gangplank worry in the world.
“You there, swabby,” he wakes with a startle, “fetch me some food.”
Ignore him; check the galley.
The galley’s blocked by a cook who’s as wide as he is tall.
“Hold it, mate. Whass’a password?”
Password? I have no clue. I improvise a rude gesture. He flicks a meaty finger against my forehead, and the lights dim. I wake up on the …
Upper Deck
Groggy and disoriented, the captain’s last words echo in my mind. This ship is my responsibility now. Failure isn’t an option.
Ropes, sails, and riggings litter the deck. A barrel sits beside the rope ladder. A bird squawks in the distance.
Inspect the barrel.
It is a pickle barrel of oak staves held by iron hoops. A worn tricorn rests on top. The tricorn, a three-cornered hat with a skull-and-crossbones patch inside, fits like it was made for me.
Climb the rope ladder.
The crow’s nest, a rickety barrel at the top of the mast, has barely enough room to stand. The flag slaps me in the face and nearly sends me over.
Grab the flag to stop it from flapping.
It is a classic Jolly Roger, with a skull and crossbones. Someone scribbled a drink name on it—the captain’s handiwork. He must have been out of his mind with grogg.
Back on deck, a petunia now sits where the tricorn used to be. Hatches lead to the lower deck and cargo hold.
Open the hatch to the …
Cargo Hold
More like a dungeon. Cannonballs stacked up, a lime rolling around. Lime, a lifesaver at sea, puckers the lips and protects from scurvy. I stow it under my tricorn.
What little light there is down here leads to the bosun’s quarters, which are blocked by a solid, locked door. There is a faint scent of fruit.
I can squeeze my way to the brig or galley faster than retracing my steps.
Go back via the brig.
The sailor’s awake now, eying my tricorn. “Please, sir, stop that squawk. The parrot sounds powerful hungry.”
Not sure what else to do, I hand him the lime. He nods gratefully, almost a bow. Strange behaviour for a sailor, but I pocket the thought for later.
Return to the galley.
“Hold it, mate. Whass’a password?”
Tempting fate, I press the hat down on my head and repeat the same rude gesture.
“Why, if it weren’t for the tricorn …” he mutters, standing aside.
“Slog of grog,” I say to this monolith of a man. He hands me a mug of spiced wine and a handful of pistachio nuts, then goes about his business.
Nuts under the tricorn for safekeeping, I head to my new quarters above, at the stern. Stern means the back, for you land-lubbers. A parrot’s squawking its head off there.
Back of the Ship—er, Stern
The door’s open—odd since the captain keeps a chest inside. The chest is metal and locked tight. It’s hard to think with all the squawking.
Deal with the parrot.
🦜 The parrot, perched on a rail, has a skeleton key on a lanyard around its neck. I have the mug of spiced wine, but that might not work. The bird’s hungry, not thirsty.
Give it the nuts.
Pistachios have a calming effect, and the bird, now fed, falls asleep. I take the skeleton key and head to the bosun’s quarters, expecting the treasure chest behind the sturdy, locked door.
Bosun’s Quarters
The key fits, and the door swings open. Messy, even for a pirate. Smells like the shoeless sailor and that lime. What it doesn’t have is a treasure chest.
I return to the …
Captain’s Quarters
The chest is a long metal case, not the shape I’d expect. It opens with the skeleton key. Inside are a leather pouch, machete, and map rolled like a scroll.
Take the map, or maybe the pouch.
Let’s see. The map is a sketch of the spice islands. It might lead to treasure, but the captain hinted there’s treasure on board.
The leather bag is full of doubloons, but not enough to buy freedom if the soldiers return while we’re still in port.
Very well, captain, take the machete.
The machete is arm’s length and razor sharp. It could put out an eye—not a bad look on a pirate, but tricky judging distance. Especially how far those soldiers are in the distance.
With the Royal Navy closing in, I swing harder than ever, severing the tow rope. The soldiers shout in frustration as we break free.
“Aargh,” I raise the machete to the sky as the Ocean Raider slips out toward open waters.
Snippets
Dynamics extends to adaptation. Sometimes, this involves new situations by choice, such as taking on the culture of another country, learning the language, and embracing local customs. Other times, it involves adapting to unexpected situations, such as a disabling sports injury, learning to work remotely, dealing with social disconnection, and having to rely on a relative who would really rather be elsewhere.
In addition to inventory, characters may react differently to questions based on new information or on previous conversations.
> Find her in the diner.
The streets are rain-slick, reflecting the neon sign that buzzes like a bad memory. I enter the diner and find her at the booth, staring out the window like she’s waiting for something that’ll never come.
I slide into the seat across. “You mentioned the library on the phone,” I say, trying to sound casual. “Tell me more about it.”
She looks at me, eyes narrowing like she’s trying to decide if I’m worth the trouble. “You were paying attention,” she says, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
I shrug. “I have my moments.”
She leans back, fingers tracing the edge of her coffee cup. “The old library,” she begins, her voice softening. “It’s more than a building. It’s where the past and present collide, where secrets are kept and sometimes revealed.”
> Encourage her to say more.
I nod, remembering that part on the phone. “And …?”
She glanced around the diner. “And there are books, old books. Some legends. Some true—and dangerous.”
I felt a chill run down my spine. “Dangerous, how?”
“Names, dates, events that could change everything.”
> You’ll need to know more.
“Why are you telling me this?”
The rain starts again, tapping against the window like a reminder that time is running out. “Because I like that you listen … and I can’t do it alone.”
