Role-Play Challenges
Role-play challenges require a character to take on roles or character behaviours. For example:
- Assume the role of a poison taster, identifying and neutralizing poisons in a royal feast.
- Disguise yourself as a member of the enemy faction to gain unrestricted access to their base.
- Argue a philosophical point convincingly to gain access to a secret library.
- Disguise yourself as a diplomat to infiltrate a high-security meeting and gather intelligence.
“Prime Navigators” is set in an alt-Earth water world where voyagers define their lives by the ship they choose and the mysteries they unravel. The narrative revolves around the protagonist’s choice of ship and the role within that ship’s mission. The options to seek treasure, build an armada, cast floating gardens, build shelters, log facts and myths, or chart the islands represent different roles and missions.
Not all roles are created equally; some have more success than others. The narrative explores the consequences of each role. For example, the treasure-seeking ship encounters a curse of greed, the armada faces nature’s wrath, and the floating gardens attract a mythical sea creature.
Roles also have distinctive dilemmas. The decision to scuttle a ship to keep ancient technology secret or the sacrifice made by the crew of the floating gardens to protect others involves ethical considerations that shape the protagonist’s identity.
Prime Navigators
Port Lyndora, 17th Tide of the Celestial Compass
Ours is an aquatic realm where the ocean dwarfs the land, and islands are the only haven. Life begins here, along the Prime Meridian, but is spent in circumnavigation.
You’re free to pause, embracing liberty by choice of port. Yet the destination remains to circle the world and return to the Prime Meridian. That is the measure of a lifetime.
Those who choose not to venture live like the receding tide. Those who pass over the horizon return having lived before we die, seeking a legacy to outlive us.
Which islands we attend, as the intentions under which we sail, are as waypoints. No voyager has met tribes or settlers on distant islands. Still, we seek signs of life.
Many ships take to the great waters. Some are in it for them and theirs. Some are in it for the learning. And yet others sail to better us all.
Would you seek treasure buried by ancestors, braving traps guarding bounty? Or would you join a nation of ships, a floating country at sea, delaying return to the Prime?
Would you send boats to fellow seafaring ships to log facts and myths and chronicle the encountered? Or would you chart the islands, returning with a wealth of maps?
One ship cultivates gardens floating to follow the currents, growing sustainable food along the ocean. Another ship builds shelters and supplies caches on islands to aid sailors in storms or distress.
You are welcome aboard any ship under the banner of being part of something bigger than yourself. The ship is a choice of who, not what you are.
I would seek treasure.
The harbour master said true wealth lies not in gold but in the lessons learned at sea. Suspicion opens a wary eye when ‘true’ is used to qualify. A true sailor does this, or true wealth is that.
And yet, I should have listened to the master’s wisdom. Driven by legends and legacy maps, we found the shore of our ancestors. We found their maze of traps and thrust greedy fingers through their glittery hoard.
We found their treasure and found the curse of greed. If anyone should find this note, know for you too, it is too late. The fever struck and kept our bones as it shall claim yours.
I would build an armada.
Visionaries, we dreamt of a nation at sea, arresting the celestial clock. Our armada flourished along the warm equatorial waters. But as the currents drew us north, it pulled us into a struggle against nature herself.
Our flotilla grew. So did the storm, scattering us to the winds that, ever after, whisper of the folly of trying to tame the seas.
I would cast floating gardens.
The gardens were successful, growing food sustainably on the ocean surface. We cultivated a floating paradise—at a terrible price. The gardens brought to the surface a sea creature, mythical in size and hunger, who made a feeding ground of our gardens.
My crew led the creature away at the cost of our ship and lives. Yet our legacy lives in the gardens that drift on the currents, a testament to our sacrifice.
I would build shelters.
Dedicated to building, we uncovered an ancient sanctuary. We found machines beyond our grasp, tooled as no smith can forge. Might it have been the craft of those who once commanded the seas to rise?
Our captain sought to secret it forever, fearing its potential to drown the world. We scuttled the ship so no one could return and tell of this awesome force. And here, we live in solitary resolve on the island of wonders.
I would log facts and myths.
By the hand of irony, little is known of the ship sent to log facts and myths. Their goal was to chronicle kindred vessels, both what is seen and what seems.
The sea tricks the mind, and the line between fact and myth can fog as the morning sea. If I had made this vessel, I would not have returned.
The only log to return arrived in an empty rum bottle and told of a ghost ship sailing without a crew. They pursued the phantom to the world’s edge. There, they found not a boundary but a gateway to other oceans.
Some port scholars read this as turbulent currents pushing the ship to the polar parallel. There, great furred beasts walk on four and roar.
Some say they sailed into the heavens, not air but new waters. Some say the rum made them neglect the rocks. None will know, no log exists except by that bottle.
I would chart the islands.
Our cartographers documented the vast seas, and we returned with maps along the mid-north parallel. We welcome the sweet soil of home and bring tidings of a great discovery.
Not an unknown island but a submerged civilization resting visibly beneath the waves. Might land have once dominated the ocean? It is uncertain.
We can be sure of this: our realm is but a chapter in the planet’s history. More ships are needed to increase this deposit of knowledge.
May my children inhale the scent of salty waters. And may they, prime navigators, discover where ancients walked before us.
