Justin Achilli

Clio, the Muse of History

The idea behind CLIO is to allow two or three participants to improvise a compelling story built upon a simple scenario sketch. The experience I want to create is to make a historical event take on a life of its own, to resonate with the players mutually crafting the story. This history doesn’t have to be true. It can easily be a fictitious event or part of a history that hasn’t yet occurred. Obviously, even if the players use CLIO to relate an actual historical event, it’ll have some element of fiction about it, as the players create details they couldn’t possibly know or that won’t have been true in the actual event.

But who cares about all that? Let’s move on.

This rough draft of the rules doesn’t account for how the scenario sketch is generated, it’s just the resolution engine. The primary currency of the system is the dramatic detail. Each time a player uses the dice to take action, he describes an element occurring in the scenario taking place.

For example, when the protagonist claims one of the antagonist’s dice in a scenario describing Alexander the Great, he may say, “Alexander charges into the fray on the back of his horse, Bucephalus, granted to him by his father Peleus who himself gained them from his father Poseidon. Alexander boldly plunges his spear into the massed ranks of the Indian hill clans.”

Is all of that true? Probably not. Who cares? It’s evocative. So long as dice are claimed on the table, the details keep coming.

CLIO is for two or three players. Players assume the traditional roles of Greek theater in the protagonist and antagonist, and if a third player participates, he represents the influence of the goddess Nemesis. All of that is arty talk for one player being the guy the story is about, the other player adding details in terms of opposing parties or obstacles, and the optional third player aiming to keep the protagonist from getting too big for his breeches.

Ultimately, the protagonist should win — but not in every exchange. After all, overcoming adversity is the lot of dramatic heroes, but history is also ultimately written by the victors.

With that said, here’s the engine.

Conflict Resolution Basics

What would Savonarola do? He’d probably burn some heretics.To resolve a conflict, perform the following sequence of actions. 

Each player rolls a number of six-sided dice at the beginning of the resolution. For the protagonist, this number of dice equals the sum of her relevant Virtue + Skill dots. (Note: We haven’t yet determined how these traits are obtained, so just consider that a placeholder for now. Use whatever number feels right for the time being in the dramatic scale of your proposed scenario… which we likewise have yet to detail.) For the antagonist, this number equals the number of dice equal to the protagonist’s, minus one. For the nemesis, this number equals three.

Starting with the protagonist, each player may eliminate a single die of the other’s where the player’s roll on a given die is equal to or greater than the die he seeks to eliminate. After eliminating a die in this manner, the player must re-roll the die in question. With each die so eliminated, the player contributes a narrative detail to the resolution. (Note: I stole the hell out of this basic mechanic from Button Men.)

When one player has dice left and the others do not, he has “won” the exchange (in whatever terms the conflict has presented). For each leftover die, he contributes an additional dramatic detail to the resolution if he so chooses. Thus, the player with one or more dice left over at the conclusion of the resolution dictates the terms of the conflict conclusion.

Adding variety to the breadth of possible interactions are the following additional rules:

The Protagonist

The protagonist may combine two or more dice to yield a greater total when seeking to eliminate the antagonist’s dice. However, when combining dice, the protagonist must have a result equal to the exact number on the antagonist’s die. After combining dice in this manner and eliminating the referee’s die, the protagonist contributes a single detail and rerolls both of the dice combined to eliminate the antagonist’s die. (Yep. Stole this part, too.)

The Antagonist

The antagonist may choose at (almost) any time to reroll a single die in her pool once in any given turn. She must do this before the protagonist declares that he’s eliminating that die. The antagonist must keep the reroll, but if she doesn’t like the roll, she can reroll again on her next turn.

The Nemesis

The nemesis may, instead of acting on a given turn, offer a die to the protagonist’s pool. The protagonist may choose to accept or decline this offer. If the protagonist declines, the nemesis carries out his turn as normal, eliminating either the protagonist’s or antagonist’s dice as normal and adding a narrative detail. If the protagonist accepts, he gains the offered die (showing the number originally rolled by the nemesis), and the nemesis adds a narrative detail that somehow harms or threatens the protagonist.

For example, if the nemesis offers the protagonist a die and the protagonist accepts, the nemesis may declare that the night before the meeting with the Pope, the protagonist becomes horribly drunk and loses his sealed missive, or that he finds himself wracked by doubt in the small hours of the night before a battle, or that he forgets the phrase he’s supposed to speak to identify himself to the dauphin.

Contributing Narrative Details

Be as realistic or as over-the-top in your resolution as you wish, but be consistent with your fellow players.As the players contribute their narrative details to the story, any detail is fair game to include, with one exception. A player’s detail cannot contradict or invalidate a previously stated detail. For example, if the nemesis stipulated that the protagonist foolishly forgot to bring his documentation in order to board the Hindenburg, the protagonist could not say, “Aha! He brought his papers after all!” as his narrative detail.

The point of narrative details is to add complication to the story and to encourage players to think creatively around unexpected difficulties, not simply overturn them and browbeat the other players to accept a predetermined outcome.

Each pair or trio of players must among themselves determine what counts as clever solution to a complication and what’s a quibbling circumvention of a declared detail. For example, it’s against the spirit of the rule for the protagonist in the prior example to claim, “Oh, but he brought his passport, since you said papers,” or “his sidekick selflessly relinquishes to him his own unimpeachable documentation, so it’s no big deal,” but it’s acceptable to say, “Desperate and unarmed, he mugs a drunken German petty officer for his papers and uniform, who is too stunned to react in time.” This latter solution keeps the action going and introduces another complication — now there’s an angry and embarrassed (and drunk and undressed) German officer with a score to settle mixed into the situation. Remember, the intent is to introduce new details, not undermine previous ones.

When in doubt, it’s fair to ask, “Would this make a compelling addition to a written work of historical fiction?” If the answer is obviously no — why on earth would an author claim his protagonist forgot his pistol, but had another one anyway, so it’s no dire turn — it’s best to use a different detail.

Testing the Principle

There we have it — the basic resolution system. With that in place, let’s test it a bit and ask a few questions.

1. Do the specified six-sided dice yield an interesting array of outcomes? Should the dice vary, or perhaps increase a step or two in size for a greater range of results?
2. Do the dice as allocated actually allow for the protagonist to win most but not all of the conflict situations?
3. Do the roles as designed (protagonist, antagonist, and nemesis) fulfill the proper aspects of dramatic resolution?
4. How should we determine that initial dice pool of the protagonist’s?
5. How should we determine what constitutes a scenario, and the component objectives for each player role?

What are your results? What questions of your own arise in testing? Let’s hear it!