Titan World (Solo Playtest)
So...I'd been watching the anime Attack on Titan lately and thought, y'know, this would make a pretty good setting for an RPG. A bit of Google later, and lo and behold, there was one already, going by the name of Titan World. Can be found here: http://professorprof.tumblr.com/post/598...k-on-titan

So, I picked a name, assigned stats for a Rookie, and set off to save the world, or die trying.

My name is Private Felix of the Trost District. Humanity is beset from all sides by the menacing Titan monsters. Three walls have stood since time immemorial to ward them off. Five years ago, the outermost wall, Wall Maria, was breached by the largest Titan ever witnessed--the Colossal Titan, working in tandem with a second one known as the Armored Titan. Masses of humanity were wiped out in the first hours.
(Why do I fight?)
Remote event
My cousin Hans, a soldier in the Scouting Legion, went missing in the confusion of that first battle, almost certainly dead. I vowed to find him, or kill the Titan that took him from his devastated parents.
It wouldn't be easy. I enlisted, and for years I trained under brutal conditions, mastering the advanced technology of the Maneuver Gear--equipment that allowed us to outmaneuver, outrun, and evade Titans, getting into position to strike with blinding speed using our Titan-slaying swords--incredibly sharp, disposable blades used to pierce the Titans' thick hides at their one vulnerable point.
I graduated training and joined the Scout regiments--units tasked with taking back what was once the territory of our race beyond the walls.
In the year 850, i was sent to my first assignment. (Which was?)
Ambush / Victory
A forward squad of our troops had successfully baited a mob of Titans away from the second great barrier, Wall Rose. Our comrades couldn't take them all out due to their own low numbers and supplies, so they sent back one of their number as a messenger, alerting us to their predicament. It was our job to provide support--we were the nearest unit able to respond, so despite our inexperience, my squad was sent to our first real combat engagement...and quite possibly our last.
Everything's a blur around me. I'm swinging through the trees on my belt's grapple lines at incredible speed, the maneuvers second-nature to me after all the training I've done. I'm able to listen to my squad leader...
Ill herbalist
Walther, a doctor's former young apprentice, whose pale skin gives him a sickly appearance, as he briefs us without risking distraction. "The forward squad may--" Swing. "--well be dead by the time we get--" Retract left line, launch the next hook "--there, so be ready--" Swing again, under a horizontal branch. "--for anything! Our mission is--" Retract right line, launch left hook. "--to eliminate any and all Titans--" Swing. "--before they can head for the wall again!"
Up ahead, another soldier calls out, "Titan spotted, about thirty meters up!"
"Acknowledged! Squad is clear to engage! Let's do this!"
Letting out battle cries and wordless shouts, we're all exhilarated by the heady rush of swinging at near-terminal velocities through the trees, and I know that if our resolve falters, we're all as good as dead. Best not to think about what could happen if we screw up...
In midair, I jam the hilt of my left-hand sword into the front of my left scabbard, locking it into a fresh blade. Drawing it out produces a high-pitched, metallic ring that I've gotten quite familiar with in training. I launch the next line and with a quick burst of propellant, I swing horizontally around the next tree. In the moment that the line's taut, I can feel the ground vibrating through the tree trunk from the Titan's footsteps. It's close. Very close. I can hear it breathing...No, I can't think about it. Can't allow myself to realize what I'm fighting...or I'll freeze up. (Does the Titan notice me yet?)
The Titan hasn't registered my presence yet. Following the lead of my squadmates, I move closer, with a bit more caution now, trying to get as close as I can without being noticed. My heart is pounding as I zip between the trees, the rest of the squad swarming around the Titan to keep it guessing where we're going to strike from, trying to create openings for each other. (Rolling Get Into Position [Agility] to see if I can attack. 2D6+1)
11 = 6[d6]+4[d6]+1
There--there it is, a perfect shot straight through the gap between the trees that takes me parallel to its nape! "Felix! Take him!" Walther shouts, having spotted my opportunity but not being in a position to exploit it himself. I barely have even a moment to take advantage of this chance, and I almost stand there, struck dumb by my luck. Just in time, I fire off a line to a tree twenty-five feet past the Titan, and I jet through the trees, my sword flashing in the light that filters through the treetops...(Rolling Strike to Kill, 2D6 with no modifiers....)
10 = 4[d6]+6[d6]
Yes! I extend my left arm with my sword held at a downward angle as I flash past the Titan, gritting my teeth and struggling to keep the weapon from being torn out of my grip as the blade slices its way through the leathery skin of the Titan's neck. It bellows its pain to the sky. (Rolling Avoid Danger to see if I'm out of the way before it can retaliate. 2D6+1)
6 = 2[d6]+3[d6]+1
I don't clear it in time to be out of range of the massive hand that's sweeping its way towards me blindly, even as the Titan continues to howl...(Rolling Avoid Danger again to see if I can dodge the attack, 2D6+1)
9 = 5[d6]+3[d6]+1
I make it through, the Titan's fingertips brushing my leg and sending a shudder of revulsion through me. What was I thinking, going up against such a creature and hoping to equal it, or even win?
(Ongoing Disadvantage: -1 to Discipline until I can gather my thoughts due to my brush with death.)
Someone shouts my name as I'm knocked off course, managing to recover my stability and looping around into the top of a tree, planning my next move. (Rolling Get into Position for Walther)
9 = 4[d6]+5[d6]
(Disadvantage selectedSmile The Titan makes Walther its top priority, turning to face him and roaring out a deafening challenge. However, he's moving faster than it can keep up, and he whirls around as it flails at him. (Rolling Avoid Damage on 2D6)
10 = 6[d6]+4[d6]
(Success) He dodges the Titan with almost contemptuous ease and yells as he goes in for the kill. (Rolling Strike to Kill, 2D6+1 and burning advantage gained from positioning)
11 = 5[d6]+5[d6]+1
The Titan groans hauntingly, falling to the ground in a dead heap. (Has the forward team arrived? [50/50])
The forward team is nowhere to be seen. "Stick together, we're going to look for them," Walther shouts. I'm still shell-shocked from my brush with death, but I nod shakily, equipping my right hand with a second blade. The squad leader launches himself forward and we all move to follow, whipping around through the forest. (Do we find the forward team yet? [50/50])
Yes, but... +Event: Passion / The innocent
We find the forward team. Or at least, their remains, bits and pieces of them scattered through the trees in pools of blood. There are other remnants in civilian clothing--they must've been protecting a group that slipped past the evacuation call somehow...I hear the sound of someone throwing up somewhere behind me. I don't turn. (Rolling Keep your Cool, 2D6+1)
9 = 2[d6]+6[d6]+1
Oh god...it's horrible. Shredded, crushed, pulverized corpses, the few intact faces showing signs of abject terror. I need to scream...(Rolling Keep Your Cool for Walther, 2D6+2)
9 = 4[d6]+3[d6]+2

walther seems just as ill as I feel, paler than ever. "Shit..." he mumbles, seeing what's left of the forward team. "What do we do?" a squad member demands. "I.." He gulps. "We've got to get out of here before the Titans come back..." He turns around, torn by indecision. Do we stay or go? If we stay, we could die, but we might take the Titans with us...if we go, then what was the point of coming here? (Do we stay? 50/50)

Yes, but...

Finally, he relaxes. "No, we're staying. We have to fight--" The ground shakes suddenly as a Titan erupts from the woods, bearing down on us with incredible speed. "Abnormal! MOVE!" someone shouts. Is it me? I can't even tell. Hands shaking, I fire off a hook at a tree, sending me to the side, away from the Abnormal Titan...(Rolling Avoid Harm on 2D6)

5 = 1[d6]+4[d6]

WHAM, I'm hit, the Titan knocking me down easily, my gear sputtering in an attempt to accelerate me out of the creature's grasp. (Rolling Desperate Rescue for Walther, 2D6+2)

12 = 4[d6]+6[d6]+2

I hear Walther growl somewhere behind me, then a roar of pain from the Abnormal, and suddenly the Titan's slowly constricting grip loosens, and my now-unhindered maneuver gear throws me out of harm's way, straight towards a tree...(Rolling Avoid Harm on 2D6)

7 = 6[d6]+1[d6]

I'm unharmed, but my swords shatter from the teeth-rattling impact. I reach down and realize that I'm almost out already--I didn't have time to fully refill my scabbards before we struck out on this mission. (Low on Blades assigned as a Disadvantage.) I turn back and see the rest of the squad looping and whirling around the Abnormal, which is roaring in fury--Walther put one of its eyes out. (50/50, does it come for me?)

Yes +Event: Postpone / Prison

Suddenly the Titan whirls, perhaps in recognition that its prey was taken from it, and it sprints towards me...I dodge out of the way again. (Rolling Avoid Harm on 2D6, event will manifest next round.)

6 = 3[d6]+3[d6]

I leap clear, but not far enough to avoid the Abnormal's reach. It seizes me and I cry out in panic, unable to reach a fresh pair of blades, left to flail and kick ineffectively at the Titan's hand as it reaches up...(Rolling Desperate Rescue for Walther. 2D6+2.)

8 = 1[d6]+5[d6]+2

"DIE, BASTARD!" Walther comes out of nowhere like a comet, cannoning into the Titan's arm and with a mighty blow, severing the hand that's holding me at the wrist. The Titan screams at an ear-splittingly high pitch, and brings its other hand around to seize Walther, gripping until his legs break with a sickening CRACK and hurling him to the ground. I watch in horror, struggling to free myself from the amputated hand's death grip as the Abnormal reaches down, snatches up the dazed Walther and hurls him against a nearby boulder. I hear another crack and I know somehow that there's no saving him. A glance confirms this--Walther is unmoving and spread-eagled against the boulder, his head lolling to the side like a broken doll. The Abnormal coming for me now, its severed hand vaporizing slowly and regenerating...Just then, I hear a shout and hear the familiar hiss and whine of maneuver gear in action--the rest of the squad is fighting, but there's too much noise for it to be just them. I look up and see a...

Sympathetic female insane genius

wild-eyed female officer in the uniform of the Military Police flying by.

Military police...what are they doing here? I wonder dimly why they're so far out of the Interior. The Abnormal whirls to face this new threat and takes a hook to the shoulder...(Rolling 2D6+1 for Strike to Kill by NPC)

12 = 5[d6]+6[d6]+1

...and then a blade to the neck for its troubles. It falls down and I pull myself free from the bloody, dissipating remains of the hand at last. "Walther!" I shout, even though it's too late to save him. Ignoring shouted orders to stop, to stand down, to wait, I fire my right hook into the rock that he died on and reel myself over to him. "Walther..." There's blood pouring out of his dead, slightly open mouth. "...no...why'd you save me," I whisper incoherently. I dimly register he officer that took out the Abnormal landing next to me. "I'm sorry, lad," she says softly. "Who was he?"
I gulp, blinking back tears and holding back the urge to vomit.
"His name w...was Lance-Corporal Walther Peters. Born and raised in Trost District, behind Wall Rose. Enlisted in the year 841. Graduated top of his class in training...led his first and only mission successfully with both...courage and sk-skill..." My voice is rising shrilly and growing less coherent as tears fill my eyes. "...A-accounting all but singlehandedly for the death of a nine-meter Titan, saving the life of Private Felix of Trost District in the process, and proving instrumental to the destruction of a s-second Abnormal Titan of the eight-meter class, s...selflessly laying down his own life in the line of duty in order to protect the aforementioned Private Felix. Though he may be gone, his memory will endure in our hearts until the end of our days. Words cannot convey our regrets and sorrow at the loss of such a gifted soldier." I'm sobbing now while reciting this stilted, shaky eulogy of sorts as the words come into my mind. My hands form fists and I find my arms folding to form the traditional military salute on my chest and back. I manage to choke out, "He will not be forgotten!" before I collapse.

Everything goes dark for a moment as my exhausted, battered body struggles to remain conscious. Then I feel an impact and I'm on the ground, distantly wondering how I got there. "Get him out of here!" the officer shouts in the distance. Then, blissfully, the darkness returns, this time to stay.
{Mission Complete.}
Very cool. Thanks for sharing.
No problem, thanks for the feedback Big Grin
Part 2, after a long hiatus and several more things being revealed in the anime...

It's been five days since Walther's death. I still see his face when I close my eyes. In silence, I still hear the crack of his collapsing bones and the shuddering impact of his last moments--thrown into a boulder by an Abnormal Titan. Somehow, I survived, but my memories are foggy as I lost consciousness shortly after his death.
My name is Felix Abel, and I am a Private of humanity's Scouting Legion in the year 850. By all rights, I should already be dead.

[Where am I?]

Old abandoned hotel

This used to be an inn before more permanent housing was established in Trost.
[Why am I here?]


This is a run-down area of town, but it's where I grew up and I know it well. The military uses some of the old buildings as barracks now, and I'm here to go through Walther's few possessions now that he's officially killed in action.

Very high quality quill and ink



All he's left are a few extra rations, a finely crafted quill and an ink jar apparently crafted of gold, as well as a small statue of some kind. I examine it more closely after transferring the quill, ink, and rations to my storage locker.

Control / Liberty

It's an icon of what appears to be a human with a slight build, yet its feminine face radiates a sort of confidence and strength, with strange sinewy bits of flesh around its eyes, as if its face had been torn free of some kind of stitching. Why does it--
Suddenly, I'm not standing in the empty barracks anymore.

Feared warehouse

<i>The warehouse is dark and smells musty despite feverish attempts to maintain it. A torch flares to life halfheartedly, flickering ominously and revealing...</i>

2 = 2[d6]




Deteriorating clothing

Worn-out crystal lens

<i>...two hunched, madly whispering figures, one of which is holding the torch and wearing quartz-lensed glasses, the other leaning on a battered spear. Both wear ragged, borderline disintegrating clothing. While the latter of the two doesn't appear to have been trained in the use of his archaic weapon, its wicked point and his equally wicked grin make it clear that he'll figure it out quickly if necessary.</i>
What am I seeing?
Is this now? Or am I dreaming?
<i>I mumble something thickly, unable to formulate words, which causes my captors to erupt in cackling fits of laughter. My head is throbbing. A hand seizes me roughly by the collar and I'm dragged forcibly through a stone corridor.</i>

<i>Fading in and out of consciousness, I observe...</i>

Healthily / Soft

<i>a deceptively kind-faced man in a doctor's clothing, who...</i>

Attainment / Bureaucracy

<i>...eyes me up and down calculatingly. "This is the street rat you found then. It'll have to do; we don't have time to seize another before the Military Police start asking questions."</i>
Why does this feel so familiar?
<i>"Is the rite of succession prepared, then?" the spear-wielder demands impatiently.
"You forget your place," the false doctor growls, his plain features hardening coldly. "Cain worked at his own pace, and so do his inheritors. Does it have a name?" he asks, gesturing to me as if I were a specimen to be dissected. Is that what he intends for me? Or something worse?</i>

<i>"What...what do you want?" I croak hoarsely, feeling like my throat is on fire. "Why am I here; just let me go already!" My voice rises in panic and that only serves to send the lackeys into another bout of cackling.
"We'll let you go...once you've had a word with the Reaper," one finally manages to choke out, before their apparent superior strikes him viciously across the side of the head. "Shut. Up."
"What's the point?" the other lackey sneers. "He won't remember us anyway."</i>
But I do remember now...

<i>"You'd better answer me," the false doctor says, deceptively calm, his cold eyes watching me like those of some inhuman predator. "What do they call you?"
"F...Felix," I finally gasp out. "Felix Abel."
He stares and I flinch. Suddenly, the room echoes with his mirthless laughter. "How fitting! That Abel should inherit Cain's legacy! And here I thought they would have to kill you and try with another..."</i>
Maybe it'd be better if he had.
<i>"That's enough. Bring him to the chamber."
I struggle...
[Do I manage to break free? (unlikely)]


<i>..but it's useless and they drag me onward, arms pinned behind my back and the spear pressed between my shoulders to skewer me if I step out of line.</i>

Weathered arena

<i> The corridor eventually opens up into a dark cavern of some kind. I wince as torches ignite throughout the edges and a sort of stadium is revealed, carved of stone.
It must've taken generations to work the raw stone like this, I realize as I glance around wildly. There are no bricks or wooden supports or blocks. It's as if some massive, infinitely patient artisan chiseled furrows, stairs, and passageways out of rock by hand.</i>

An arena. A proving ground...but for what?

<i>My eyes adjust to the light, revealing more hooded lackeys and, bound and gagged at the middle of the room, a...</i>

Ill female undertaker

<i>black-clad woman with a sickly grey hue to her face.</i>
Who was she? I remember--
<i> Things seem to flicker and speed up; I'm shoved forward, and she looks at me not with terror, but resignation and exhaustion in her eyes. The other...cultists? Slavers? disperse, except the 'doctor', who steps up behind me. There's a sharp stab of pain in my back...a blinding greenish light...and...</i>
...and suddenly I'm on the floor of the barracks, gasping for breath.
"What the hell," I breathe, clutching my throbbing forehead; I must've struck it when I fell. I've dropped the statue, but it seems undamaged. Slowly, I move to pick it up with a violently shaking hand and recoil instinctively...but nothing happens. As I re-examine it, I notice stains of some sort along the figure's miniscule hands...rust? No, I realize. Blood. I'm not bleeding, and the stains have long since dried. And yet there they are.

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