Convention games are great because they allow you to deliver a very specific experience, as weird or unusual as you’d like, and also, because there are no consequences to deal with ‘later in the campaign’, so you can go nuts.
In Shed Not a Tear, oh Princess, I attempt to use both of these features and create a somewhat melancholy story about … okay, that’s a bit of a spoiler. I’m especially proud of the tools I give the GM, to help her deliver the type of experience I want this to be.
Heavy clouds cover the sky, hiding the shining starlight. Only a few moon rays manage to break through, falling on the Halls of Pine’s Silence, the court of the Winter Tamaraei, a noble among elves. Night has come to the pine woods and in a place like this, so deep within the Feywild, a traveller would be wise to find a place to hide, a haven to spend the night. Terrible secrets lurk in the darkness between the woods. Fickle fey giggle from the underbrush. A heavy fog rises to cover the foliage. Only the lights of the Halls can be seen through the mist, bright and inviting.
In pairs and groups they come, riding magical carriages and wondrous mounts. Elves and humans, gnomes and fairies, honourable guests and close attendants of the Winter Tamaraei. They disembark and hand the reins to the care of the staff and stable workers.
As they turn to walk up the stairs to the castle’s entrance, they speak in hushed tones afraid that the foreboding castle itself may hear their whispers. They, like you, were invited to participate in the Winter Dusk Ball, one of the holiest days of the year.
For it was on this night, so they say, that the confrontation between the Swamp Prince and the Lord of Graves took place. It is nothing more than a fairy tale, but in the Feywild, even legends have power…