On the Fly
By Bonnie Rutledge
Chapter 2

Zephra waited for his return as Zephra always waited. She perched by the windowsill, her smooth forehead touching the tinted glass, a palpable yearning radiating from her to reach the heat of the sun.

She whirled as she heard Maron’s boisterous entry. He dumped the elf’s body unapologetically on the floor, and she had the nerve to look hurt.

Maron hated Zephra’s milky pure face, the way she would curl her plump lips and pout. He had written a poem about it once, the way she could make him feel bad with a quiver of her chin. He’d burnt it at once, but the fact remained that Zephra was winsome enough that she could convince him to do measly things like run her errands. It was disgusting.

"Done," Maron announced, tossing her the package and wiping his hands of the lapdog. "Delivered. I want my extra now. No talking to the Master first."

The only thing more disgusting than the way Zephra made him feel was Maron’s instinctive caution where the Master was concerned. It was like his mother always said: monsters recognize their own. He had written a poem about that, too—Maron was very fond of poetry—but these things had a way of being destroyed. Maron did not take rejection very well. He was very sensitive about rejection.

"Did you hurt him, Mary?" Zephra set aside the wrapped bundle and rushed from the window to hover over the fallen elf. She nearly floated, Maron thought. Other women relied on the illusion of wispy fabric to achieve grace. Unforgiving leather encased Zephra’s torso and limbs, yet she carried a fluid poise that made the bold lines appear soft on the eye.

Maron found her elegance extremely annoying. He yanked his hair to release some of the pressure from his thoughts and paced his frustration. "Isn’t it enough I have to send your pesky messages?" he snarled. "You expect me to coddle a lapdog, too?" Maron spat in disgust. He made sure to aim away from Zephra.

On the fourth Monday of each month, Planewalker Games will post new information about WeiNGINE, the CRPG gamecode behind The Broken Hourglass. In this introductory installment, we present an overview of the XML datafiles that create a WeiNGINE-powered game, and why the concept of a "toolset" is unnecessary for a WeiNGINE developer or modder.

This is also of particular interest to modders because it eliminates what in the past has been a learning curve that can take years to overcome. Most game engines optimize their data files for compactness and speed in processing, rendering them machine-readable only. To understand the contents of the data files, one either needed access to development documentation (which many developers are reluctant to provide), or to reverse-engineer the data files and develop browser and editor programs specially suited to translating the game bytecode into human-readable text.

 This difference is significant. In the old world, a developer interested in assigning vital statistics in six major categories to a character in another system might need to know that statistics start at offset 0x200 in the character file, and know that Power is first, followed by Looks, Charm, Quickness, Guile, and Concentration. So a character creation tool might then place a hexadecimal sequence such as

 0x100a1207110c

 in order to give the character 16 in Looks, 10 in Charm, 18 in Quickness, and so on.

 In WeiNGINE, however, creating a character file is very different, and requires no special editor or understanding of hex codes. In the field, one would rarely have cause to create a character file from scratch--the game itself has a front-end for new character creation, but we use characters here as an easily accessible example. To make a new character without the aid of the engine's front-end, all one needs to do is load up a text editor and write something which looks like this:

<character>
 <Name       value="Ioanna"/>
 <Portrait   value="ioanna"/>
 <Strength  value="10"/>
 <Agility  value="17"/>
 <Toughness  value="22"/>
 <Judgment  value="14"/>
 </character>
 

One of the key (potential) advantages of combat mechanics in CRPGs is the presence of the C: the computer. Because computers do math and generate random numbers very, very quickly and very well, and always intimately know the rules of the game being played, CRPG combat can focus on action instead of rolling, adding, and then arguing with your opponent.

But not everyone is simply content to "take the computer's word for it" when a vital blow has been struck or a well-planned attack misses. For those inquisitive skeptics, we offer a brief overview of the attack resolution mechanics of The Broken Hourglass and WeiNGINE.

We aim to answer the fundamental questions: "How do I score a hit?" and "How hard will I hit when I connect?" (Or, for the cautious and/or pessimistic among you, "How do I avoid getting hit?" and "How much will it hurt when I get hit?")

Attack and Defense Rolls

An attack begins when an attacker makes an attack roll. The basics behind this roll are the same whether the attack is issued with a melee or missile weapon, or a spell.

Here's the formula:

(we use the standard RPG notation for random numbers here: "d100" represents "a random number between 1 and 100, inclusive," as though you had rolled one of those big funny 100-sided ping pong ball dice.)

On the Fly
By Bonnie Rutledge
Chapter 1

Lyrio knew this fact from experience. He remembered a promising youth full of expectations and dreams of what was to come. He remembered crushing disappointment. He recalled the day he learned that he could be good, but never good enough. He could recollect with devastating accuracy how his world had reduced to the twin impulses of the blood pounding through his temples and his breath rasping in his throat. His dreams dashed, he had nothing left but the next heartbeat, the next gulp of air, then the next after that. In one instant, he could have been anything. In a second’s rejection, he had become just another unremarkable body, counting out his existence in breath and breakfasts.

Lyrio had studied meticulously to reach that point of utter failure, for he’d never been a boy prime for sport. He had always been a taint too clumsy for a physical trade and too shy to wrangle friends that would do the labor for him. Wooden swords and tumbling were the pastimes of other children. Lyrio wrestled with books and ideas, and he had trained ferociously.

He had earned minor honors before the age of ten, hence the youthful hope and expectations of greatness. Just suspiciously clever enough as a child to get noticed, Lyrio has been recruited for adept training on Argoniss, where potential hung heavy in the air like a brimstone shroud. He could have been brilliant, but his wit had only survived the rigors of the school for a year; hardly an introduction to the learned skills of spell craft. The eyes of the adept administration took a stern view on natural talent, and Lyrio’s efforts to prevail through sheer hard work did not convince them of his worth. He’d been shipped home in his third term with his shame and regret for company, a crippling burden to the esteem of a boy--no, a young man--of twelve.

From Embers Of Empire: A History of Tolmira's Rise and Fall, Volume 2 by noted historical raconteur Alanid Luttain

The Tolmiran Empire is often called "The Empire Of Man" by historians. While this is arguably racist and almost certainly a misnomer, particularly in the Empire's final centuries, it is fair to say that it would be impossible to truly understand this "empire of man" without understanding humanity. Yet it is equally impossible to understand how humanity built the foundation of the Tolmiran Empire without understanding their counterparts, the Ilvari.

Elves were the first civilized race on Rhyth. With their many gifts they forged an empire that spanned the known world, an empire that many claim has yet to be equaled. They remained without rival for many hundreds of years, until through their own doing they created their own worst enemies-- the Vogir. The half-sentient, half-mad Vogir waged war upon the Ilvari Empire for many years before they were finally overcome and nearly eradicated from the face of Rhyth forever.

The Ilvari were little better off for the conflict. Their numbers diminished, their cities in ruin and their empire on the verge of collapse, the Ilvari took drastic measures to maintain that which they had created-they enslaved the race of humanity, whom they regarded as little more than beasts, and forced them into labor. Humans learned quickly, however, and many escaped to teach their wilder brethren of the ways of civilization. The free kingdoms of humanity arose, and in its weakened state the Ilvari Empire was in no position to put them down decisively.

But the Empire remained stronger than any of the constantly bickering fledgling nations of man, and the humans remained fearful of Ilvari steel and magic. To avoid a war they did not believe they could win, they submitted to heavy taxes of slaves and treasure, and it was in this fashion that the 'free kingdoms' remained in chains. Ilvari myth holds that the god Thieron demanded that the elves relinquish their hold over humans, and that they refused. In return, Thieron withdrew his protection, opening the door for an uprising. Whatever the spiritual background, human communities did indeed turn on the Ilvari in force-the slaves revolting from within while the free kingdoms attacked from without. Thus began a great war.