Welcome, favoured adventure-folk, to the TEETH newsletter! This is a (not all that) weekly transmission about our creations in and explorations of the very secret land of Tabletop Roleplaying-Games. 

What appears within this letter is written and compiled by veteran game critic and designer, Jim Rossignol, and former Mojang alumni and famed illustrator, Marsh Davies. Why not come and join us over on the TEETH Discord! Free tooth emojis for everyone!

1. Hello, you.

2. Links!

3. Magic! Discussion and examples of magic in the TEETH games.

Hello, you.

It's been a lovely autumnal era here at Teeth Towers, and we've been delighted to be able to begin to sell our cursed piratical book, GOLD TEETH, and our medieval bastardy zine, FALSE KINGDOM, internationally. Yes! Our book is abroad! It now ships to most places. There's even a bundle which contains both! 

We're enormously proud of both these games, and we'd really like you to purchase them, partly so that we can keep making more things, but mostly because we know that they're really good and we know that you will enjoy them. Seems a bit heart on sleeve to say that, but heck now, it's the plain truth!

Additionally, if you are a resident of the United States and wish to CELEBRATE for SOME REASON, then you can also pick up a copy from our friends at IPR. Hooray!

BUT THEN once you are immersed in the worlds of TEETH or GOLD TEETH you might find yourself thinking about how magic should be handled in your campaign? Our magic system is a narrative-led one, with some fertile rules about types of magic and the components a spell might require. A few people have asked about the deployment of this in a game, and so Marsh has gone and written a guide, with fertile examples, which will be helpful for GMs and players alike. It's informative and funny! Go take a read at the end of this newsletter.

And so as ever, thank you for being so toothsome, we appreciate your being here with us. If you'd like to swing by and say hi on the Discord, we'd like that too.

Love,

Marsh & Jim

LINKS!

• Wyrd Science issue 9 is out, out! OUT! You should pick it up, partly because it's a Tolkien-RPG mega-issue, but also because our own Jim Rossignol (that's me!) wrote an article where he (that’s me!) discussed popular TTRPG The One Ring with one of its key authors, Gareth Hanrahan. We're actually running the game at the moment, with the White Wizard supplement undergirding it all, so this provides some insight on that, which we will also be talking about in great detail in a future newsletter. But regardless Wyrd Science is a looker and brilliant and as such it is the TTRPG magazine we deserve. Support John if you can! (And notice that there are two covers to choose from, while stocks last.)

• We do enjoy Dice Exploder on a regular basis, but we (or at least Jim, who… that’s me!) are also fans of Dark Sun. So this zoom in on the insectile Thri-Kreen race from that setting was super interesting. Dice Exploder's current host is moving on, but it seems in no danger of giving up on its constant examination of specifics within TTRPGs!

• The Blades '68 additional material, Blades ’68: BLUE Files, which includes contributions from Marsh and Jim (that’s— you get the idea) both, is now available. There's SO much in there and some incredible stuff from the diverse cast of contributors. Truly impressive stuff, and we thank the Evil Hat folks for thinking of us.

  Now, over to Marsh, who is not me, for the really arcane stuff…

It's a kind of magic 

Magic in our games is a terrible thing: powerful and manipulable, but an invitation to disaster. Hopefully, though, that disaster is in-fiction rather than at the table. Much responsibility lies on the GM to both explain and curtail the scope of its usage, negotiating Position and Effect, carefully Yes And-ing players to more lurid and horrible scenarios and Yes But-ing them to nightmarish repercussions for their hubris. Given that responsibility, maybe the GM could do with a few more pointers than we could fit in the book: a greater working knowledge of how we conceive magic's place within the world of Teeth, and some more examples of how to deploy it, too. And so:

How We Conceive Magic's Place Within the World of Teeth

One question we've been asked is how common magic is in the world of Teeth. Should it feel like a mundanity? Will it surprise or horrify onlookers? My view is that it remains extraordinary and widely repellent, though now firmly attested as being real. This recognition stems primarily from an occult disaster that befell England in the early part of the 18th century, when men of new learning attempted to mine a seam of otherworldly power and ended up breaching reality entirely. Prior to this point, magic and monsters existed, but were confined to lurking at the folkloric fringes—occupying the same sort of space as it does in the imagination of pre-18th-century cultures in the real world. 

Now, however, the dam has broken, and all manner of horrors have poured forth—though there is an effort to keep them contained by military cordon. Such contamination has led to exploitation: Britain has commissioned the intense study of such power, deploying supernatural artefacts in pursuit of its imperial agenda. On a smaller scale, too, magic proliferates: those who have survived encounters with it may find themselves changed, able to manipulate it themselves. Such people include the player characters of our games: individuals whose affinity for magic derives from wounds unseen, and who find themselves in the places most blighted by magical catastrophe.

Which is not to say that magic is beyond the reach of the ordinary populace: an enterprising cheesemonger might commit themselves to some dark rite to establish market pre-eminence for their stinking blue-green wheels. But this would be unusual, extremely dangerous and, in the politer parts of England beyond the cordon, draw the attention of Royal Witchbreakers, dedicated to the policing of magical matters. 

So: when a player decides to solve a trivial situation with magic—say, conjuring a person's dead mother to scold a stubborn guard for their rude behaviour—this is the kind of thing that should generate widespread ill-feeling, both for the act itself and for its potential to invite catastrophe. Such acts are often Desperate, and Consequence dire: even on a successful roll of 4 or 5, the spell might accidentally summon additional maternal spectres to harangue the crew for their naughtiness as well; or cause the player to rot, rapidly, from the fingers up until the ghost can be persuaded to return to the beyond; or simply cause the guard to scream so loud and long that others quickly arrive; in addition to punting the player up the Corruption or Curse track, depending on which game you are playing.

All of this is determined through discussion with the players: ask them for ideas of what could go wrong, and don't be afraid to say, "Yes, I like that, but let's make it worse." The idea is that you should get the help from the table to find the exact threshold that disincentivises over-exploiting magic, without nerfing it, all while making its results deliciously chaotic.

You can also shape the application of magic by getting players to extensively engage with the Method (see p. 53 of Gold Teeth)—the act of Conjuration described above might have required a Memento of the deceased to be discovered, or a Concoction brewed, or the summoning spot Encircled by a bloody pentagram. For each of these you might ask for a Flashback, with further rolls to determine success, and suitable repercussions. Were the players discovered while digging up the grave? What kind of disgusting materials were they able to pulp and boil? And does that change the level of Effect? Magic should never feel trivial; it takes up space at the table, with multiple rolls and many points of quasi-failure, building to something ghoulish and terrible, even if it goes largely to plan.

More Examples of How to Deploy It, Too

Here are some lightly sketched scenarios in which a player deploys their Magic Discipline via their Magic Method, and how, through conversation, the GM frames that, what rolls it might require, and what Consequences might fall out. Teeth and Gold Teeth use the same core system for magic, and so the below applies to both, even if some terms apply to one or the other (Stress and Corruption in TEETH, versus Luck and the Pirate Curse in GOLD TEETH, for example).

Elementalism via Memento

The highwayman, Galloping Dick Ferguson, is hiding in a wood, as he often is, and cannot be easily discovered. Previous attempts have resulted in failure and embarrassment. Maybe we could burn him out, suggests a player. However, the wood is large and, this being the North of England, wet. 

"Maybe I can use my Elemental magic to focus the fire," suggests another player, turning the flames into a sort of incandescent bloodhound that consumes only the foliage Ferguson has touched. The GM agrees that this sounds rad—but what Memento of Ferguson might they use to feed to the flames so that it can effectively track him? The players think. Didn't he give one of his robbery victims a handkerchief to dry her tears in a moment of sexy outlaw gallantry? That's right, says, the GM, but how did you get hold of it? It's time for a Flashback! 

Initial attempts to obtain the item through simple persuasion go poorly, as the victim, heiress to the Stenton-Salway fortune, is besotted with Ferguson's transgressive allure. But Ferguson's knavish charisma is nothing compared to the players' own, surely? Changing tack, they wow the heiress with tales of their own dashing antiheroic ways until she faints from the strain of suppressed eroticism, allowing them to relieve her of the handkerchief. However, warns the GM, the heiress's new obsession with the players themselves may create problems in the future—her fiancé is a jealous man. 

But that's for later: now the player sets about burning the Memento. 

"What does this look like?" prompts the GM, encouraging the player to conceive something more and more elaborate. Between them they shape a suitably weird ceremony: building a crude wicker dog out of kindling, igniting it while baying like hounds, and feeding the cloth into its flaming mouth. 

"Okay, in itself that doesn't sound that challenging, but magic is always dangerous—what kinds of things could go wrong?" Together with the GM, the players brainstorm some horrid Consequences: physical danger from the fire itself; the fire pursues not just Ferguson, but also the heiress, whose tears stain the handkerchief; and, of course, advancement of the Corruption track. Figuring that immolating the heiress is the most amusing of these, the GM makes this and party-wide singing the repercussions of a mixed success, keeping additional Corruption in reserve for abject failure. The players roll a 5: the wicker dog incandesces with a terrible howl. Bad news is on its way to the Stenton-Salway estate, scorching a trail across the moors—but at least Ferguson's reign of robbery might be brought to an end as he is chased from hiding by flames forever licking at his heels.

Mesmerism via Device

Ronald, the monstrous bull, has killed and partially eaten those who would take him to the slaughterhouse. The sausage-meat magnate, Sir Gorbrus Batchley, has sent minions to deal with the beast, but it has proven unbeatable. There might be another way, suggests a player: the Herdy-Gurdy, both an unforgivable cow-based pun and the particular Device the player uses to channel their Mesmeric magic. But, the GM makes clear, this cannot be as simple as cranking their instrument and, hey presto, the cow is calmed. For one thing, the player will have to be in direct proximity with the beast, and survive until the last creaking note is played. And what is this tune? How did the player come to compose it? The player has a think. Maybe they were inspired by the amorous baying of heifers while wandering the Alpine hillsides of their youth? 

"Oh, wait, so you are going to seduce the bull?" says the GM. 

"Yes they are," interjects another player before anyone can think better of it, "And we are going to construct a fake wooden cow for them to sit inside while they play their horridly sexy hurdy gurdy out of its—"

"Got it, thanks," says the GM. "I can think of a number of things that could go wrong here, most of which are asking for the X-card. Help me out."

After some debate, they settle on some potential problems and points of process. First, they must fabricate the cow—a group Devise roll that eats into their reserves of Stress. Secondly, the fake cow needs to be wheeled into the beast's lair—the GM asks for separate rolls to see who escapes unscathed. As for the magic itself: on a mixed success, the player is forever changed, attracting unwelcome interest from cloven-hoofed creatures wherever they go. On absolute failure, the wooden cow collapses under Ronald's enormous weight, injuring the player, and further enraging the bull as the subterfuge becomes clear. 

"Time to play some moo'd music," says a player. The game is immediately abandoned and no one speaks of it again.

Transmogrification via Touch

The Sea Dogs have rightly drowned a plantation owner who later turns out to be vital in fulfilling a prophecy. Could they Transmogrify someone into his likeness? How about the ship's pet porpoise, Daisy? Daisy must be physically restrained during this grotesque procedure, in which the Sea Dog vigorously kneads her flesh like dough, posing physical risk to all participants. Meanwhile, there's every danger that while imbuing Daisy with human attributes, the unlucky magician absorbs cetacean features in return. Even on success, of course, Daisy may little forgive this betrayal. How will it affect the mood of the crew, if, on abject failure, Daisy simply explodes? 

Cosmism via Concoction

The Sea Dogs are laying siege to a Spanish fort. No breach has been achieved and time is running out. What if a player could brew a concoction granting a personalised immunity to the law of gravity, then, weighted with ballast, they could lead a small contingent of the crew to float over the walls? What kind of material must be harvested for this brew? The swim bladders of a particularly toxic pufferfish? Some must be caught via Flashback first! And then the dangers are easily apparent: a miscalculation with a pipette and some men may float off into the clouds or plunge suddenly to earth, either way depleting the Crew Complement. Magical aftershocks may linger—Fortune rolls at times of the GM's choosing determine whether a burp causes a player to vault into the sky unexpectedly.

Conjuration via Encircle

The Dutch governor has the Sea Dogs captured—but he stays their execution. It is said the Sea Dogs have powers to reach into other worlds and command their denizens. They will do it for him, now, so that he can take a demon back to the Low Countries, or else he will stretch the necks of their entire crew. The Sea Dogs concede, but nurture betrayal in their hearts. They will give the governor his demon, but intend to make sure he regrets it.

First the GM needs to know how the summoning circle is drawn—demons are of course creatures of great power; no mere pentagram will bring them forth. Well, says the player responsible, this must be an inordinately elaborate act of symbology, almost architectural in its design, with hundreds of glyphs and sigils, pillars of barnacles, seal tallow candles, ambergris, buckets of merhog blood (a gruesome Flashback determines the amount of that ingredient available) and so forth, all to tempt the thing into our realm and, just as importantly, to unleash its fury upon the governor. They intend to trick the Dutchman into standing in the circle, saying that it will bind the demon to his will. This is a large undertaking, so a Devise group action prepares the way for the rite of Conjuration to proceed. A further Persuade action is required to get the governor in Position. What could go wrong with the Conjuration itself? In truth, there is no way that summoning a demon can go well, but there are lots of ways for it to go worse: the room begins to fill with an ocean of blood; the players, governor and all are pulled into the demon's own realm, rather than the other way around; the governor catches on to the players' treachery—too late to save himself, but perhaps not too late to condemn their crew. And then, of course, there's the Pirate's Curse.

—

More soon!

(Buy our books!) (Please.) (If you haven’t already!)

(If you already did: thanks! Honestly, we really appreciate it.)

(See you next time!)

(Bye!)

(No YOU hang up.)