For anyone wondering about the photo, I believe this is the Catacombes underneath Paris. I visited it 2 weeks ago, it really looks like this. I am fairly sure this is a really photo.

Indeed it is, as I have mentioned in the Alt Text. 😉

Shadowrun 1E. Yes, I am that old.

No matter how good this game might be, I am not giving my money to an alt-right supporter.

Also, ich könnte viel über Merkel sagen, aber "dumm" ist sie nicht. Alleine schon daß sie es in der Männer-dominierten CDU bis an die Spitze gebracht hat und so lange Kanzlerin blieb zeigt von ihrer Intelligenz.

Mein Problem mit ihr war, daß sie dem Land 16 Jahre Stillstand besorgt hat. Aber man sollte ihre Intelligenz auf keinen Fall unterschätzen.

How well does chat AI do when it comes to representation?

One huge flaw of AI-based systems I keep on hearing about is that they tend to repeat the biases of their training data.

Im großen und ganzen mochte ich die Politik von Merkel nicht, aber ich habe sie immer respektiert.

Was ich von Merz nicht behaupten kann.

I love this kind of serendipity - this often creates the best scenes!

Well, I do plan to write a book about these, eventually.

But I have some other books to write first. 😉

I'll have to see if I can schedule a few further appropriate tales for translation later this year. In the meantime, here some other tales that feature groups of treasure hunters:

Treasure Hunters in Wesenberg

At the end of the previous and the beginning of the current century there was a whole group of treasure hunters pursuing their trade in Wesenberg and the surrounding villages. Their usual place of rest between their excavations was the Prelauker or Belower Theerofen whose owners were keen participants in the digging, though this did not particularly help any of them. Instead their pub declined more than it prospered, and the heirs had to recover what their fathers had neglected.

Now, it is well known that the very foundation of treasure excavation is the maintenance of unbroken silence. And this was the point where the undertaking of our heroes usually failed. They themselves frequently told the story not without some pride, but also with hidden anger, of how the three of them progressed far enough into the ground that they spotted a heavy, large container that would have contained the treasure. But suddenly a white maiden - another source, my uncle, called her “clad in grey clothing” - jumped between their hands, back and forth, so that they were no longer able to work. Suddenly one of the treasure hunters impatiently called to his neighbor: “Rehdanz, grab her, grab her!”, and at once the treasure, the maiden, and everything else was gone.

Source: Bartsch, K. Sagen, märchen und gebräuche aus Mecklenburg, 1879. p. 252f.

The Sunken Castle Burggraben near Immigrath

Next to the railroad between Immigrath and Opladen, about 20 minutes distant from the first village, lies the so-called Burggraben (“castle wall”), an old hillfort which used to be a knight’s castle according to the beliefs of the locals. As they claim, a violent robber knight used to live there who was the terror of the entire region, causing all neighboring landowners to fortify their homes with moats and walls. But today the castle has sunk beneath the ground, for the knight supposedly kept an innocent maiden in close confinement for a long time. For this iniquity the castle was sunk. But many treasures have gone into the depths with it, in particular a barrel with gold and a golden spinning wheel. The spinning wheel was once stolen by the robber knight of Burggraben from a princess, for only the daughters of high nobles spin on golden spinning wheels.

There have often been attempts to unearth these treasures on Saint Matthias’ Night, but all such efforts have been in vain so far. Once several men, who were even accompanied by a woman, dug for those treasures. Suddenly a great barrel rolled past them. This shock paralyzed the whole group. When they had recovered somewhat from this surprise, everything was gone. Another time the treasure hunters thought themselves close to their goal when a powerful storm arose which filled their souls with such dread that they fled in fright.

Source: Schell, O. Bergische Sagen, 1897. p. 475f.

The Failed Treasure Hunt near Hoyerswerda

(Tale from Hoyerswerda)

A treasure was supposedly buried in the Fasanengarten (“pheasant garden”) near Hoyerswerda. Several farmers had heard of this as well. They decided to unearth it. The farmers had the reputation of being knowledgeable in secret things. And indeed, they had discovered an incantation in their books of spells with which they could unearth it. One day they went to the site. One of the farmers began to recite the incantation, but he had not memorized it precisely. He was reciting it in a manner that was riddled with errors, and while he was doing so, a large mob of stags, wolves, and other animals gathered which closed in on the farmers. The latter were rooted in place by fear. Then the earth opened up and a large stream of water emerged from it. This water rose so high that it wetted the chests of the farmers. Now the farmer, who had caused this trouble in the first place, had a bright idea. He quickly recited the incantation backwards. Immediately, the waters receded and the animals retreated. Howling and screeching like that from wild animals could still be heard, but only from a distance. When the farmer had finished the incantation, everything uncanny was gone.

Now the farmers hurried home in fright. Some of them expired on the way, while others died at home. Only one farmer stayed alive. For this farmer owned a whole library of spell books, and thus he must have known how to overcome his terror. But this farmer suffered in the end as well. For when he became old, he wished to die, but this wish did not come true. Finally the Devil appeared to him and told the farmer that he would help him if he gave him his soul. The farmer did so. Then the Devil advised him to burn his spell books. The farmer followed the Devil’s advice. When the last book was consumed by fire and turned to ash, the life of the farmer expired as well.

Source: Veckenstedt, E. Wendische Sagen, Märchen und abergläubische Gebräuche, 1880, p. 378f.

Yeah, it has something of a learning curve, but it is flexible in a way that few other tools can match.

...where did I say that? I think you might have misunderstood me there - I said that the PCs have plans to go elsewhere, but this is not a change of plans.

Ich halte Imperialismus für grundsätzlich schlecht, auch wenn er mal nicht von den Amerikanern kommt.

Daß viele auf der linken politischen Seite unfähig sind, russischen Imperialismus als solchen zu erkennen, ist für mich unglaublich frustrierend.

Thank you for the alternate suggestions on how to start the campaign, but I am not going to change my setup:

• I realize that "you all meet in a tavern" is a cliche, but it's not actually one I have used before - my last three #DnD campaigns all started with the PCs going through the local immigration offices together, and I wanted to do something different for a change. Besides, I love playing with well-established tropes and see how I can twist them.
• I have already told the player that this is how the campaign is going to start - the PCs have agreed to meet in this tavern because they want to travel to the big city together for their common goal (find out what their magical birthmarks mean). The tavern will serve as the setpiece for their initial meeting where the players can get a feel for each others' characters, and get involved in the local shenanigans (some of which will be relevant for the campaign later on).

So I am not looking for alternatives here, but local color and perhaps some red herrings.

I want them to establish an identity of a group first before they reach the city gates.

I think I remember starting reading their campaign notes at some point, but I didn't finish them! Thanks for reminding me!

Oh, we've already had Session Zero and agreed on the overall campaign premise. This is just the introductory evening before the PCs travel to the Big City for the main campaign.

I've been eyeing krita for fancy brushwork - GIMP is primarily photomanipulation software, and doesn't really hold a candle when it comes to brushes. Have you tried it out?

Handschriftliches Testament ist vielleicht gar nicht so verkehrt. Ich hatte vor ein paar Jahren etwas Familiendrama wegen eines notariell beglaubigten Testaments...

Reminds me of the time when my Ulfen human Skald in the Pathfinder Giantslayer campaign died and was reincarnated by the party druid as an ysoki - more commonly known as "ratfolk".

This was not something he expected, but he reasoned: "I have never been ashamed of who I am for a single day in my life, and I am not going to start now!", and thus he rolled with it and stayed in that form for the rest of the campaign.

Es gibt eigentlich nur zwei Gelegenheiten, bei denen ich mit der Hand schreibe:

• Italienische Vokabeln auf Karteikarten zum Üben
• Korrekturlesen meiner Manuskripte - und selbst das mache ich auf einem e-ink Tablet.