Council Handbook — Rich Diff & Proposals
Every change you dictated, applied in place, plus my design proposals for the open questions. Marked up for review on your reMarkable.
added new wording
removed struck wording
highlight your emphasis flag
⚑ PROPOSAL = design draft awaiting your sign-off
A ROLEPLAYING GAME · PLAYED WITH WORDS, NOT DICE
COUNCIL
A Player's Handbook
✦
PRINTED EDITION · ONE VOYAGE, ONE VOLUME
✦
strive and pay, or be given — but keep hope, whatever the weather
✦ CONTENTS ✦
Where to find things
⚑ PROPOSALS AWAITING SIGN-OFF
How to Play
HOW TO PLAY · A GUIDE FOR THE CREW · FIVE MINUTES
Before You Sit Down
There are no dice here, and no character sheets. There is only the story we tell together — and a handful of promises about how it answers back.
1
You live a scene. You speak and act as your character, and the keeper plays the world around you. Most of the time, that is all there is — and it is enough.
2
A need arises the table can't just wish away. A locked door. A hidden truth. A thing that must be built or found. Under dice you'd roll. Here, you don't guess the magic question — you simply reach for the answer, and the world provides it by one of two ways below.
3
What comes back changes the next scene. And the tale sails on. That wheel — scene, answer, scene — is the whole of the game.
By Price
What you pay for. You may seize an answer by spending something of your own — a truth confessed, a new trouble taken on, a little time lost. Price is yours to demand. It always costs the self, and it is always true.
By Grace
What you are given. The keeper may hand you an answer freely — unearned, unasked, because you are stuck and the story loves you. Grace cannot be bought or demanded. It falls where it falls, and it falls most on those who keep trying and keep hoping.
Strive and pay, or be given. Most tales are told in the weather between the two.
YOU CANNOT BE TRULY STUCK
Behind every real obstacle the keeper has already written three clues — a gentle nudge, a plain bearing, and, at the last, the answer itself. They are never improvised and never withheld forever. However you reach for help — by cleverness, by price, by grace — one of these comes. No riddle in Council is a locked room with no key. That is a promise.
THE ONE THING WORTH KEEPING
Council is built to reward hope. The world bends kinder to a crew that believes it can be made better, and grace runs toward them like water downhill. The game can wound you — it can cost you dearly, and grieve you truly — but it only truly breaks the one who has stopped hoping. Keep hope, and you are never past saving.
Despair is the only door that locks from the inside.
ONE STRANGER YOU SHOULD KNOW
There is a madman named Landis, who is real only in water. Find still water in any world — a sea, a cistern, a cup — look in, and ask him with grace, and he will sell you a true answer at a steep and personal price. He is not the main road, and you will not need him often. But he is always there, in every water, and every answer he gives is true. More of him waits in the pages that follow.
I · Foundations
COUNCIL · A PLAYER'S HANDBOOK
FOUNDATIONS
BOOK THE FIRST
being the whole of the game, set down plain, that any hand aboard may read it
§ 0.1 THE THESIS
§ 0.1 THE THESIS
Council is for tables who left the dice behind — and found they had left something else behind with them.
When a crew stops rolling and starts telling, the story runs warmer and the arithmetic goes quiet — and then, one night, a locked door appears that no one at the table happens to be clever enough to open. Under dice, a character rolled to know things their player did not. Take the dice away and that quiet gift goes with them: now a player can learn only what they personally thought to ask, and the keeper is left dangling hints, praying someone guesses the shape of the answer.
Council exists to hand that gift back without handing the dice back. It is a game of insight, consequence, and shared command that runs entirely on words. One question steers every rule in this handbook: how does a soul come to know a thing without guessing the exact right way to ask? All that follows is an answer.
You will not roll to see if you succeed. You will decide what you are willing to pay to find out. — the first principle
§ 0.2 WHO SAILS UNDER IT
§ 0.2 WHO SAILS UNDER IT
Crews who have already drifted. Long campaigns that quietly abandoned sheets and initiative and now live on narration and trust. Council names what they are already doing and gives it teeth.
Keepers weary of dangling hints. Game masters who love the shared story but keep striking the reef where a puzzle stalls because no one has yet said the magic thing.
§ 0.3 THE TURN OF THE TIDE — THE CORE LOOP
§ 0.3 THE TURN OF THE TIDE — THE CORE LOOP
Play turns through three stations. A Scene raises a need the table cannot simply declare true. The world answers by one of two roads — the Water (buy insight now, at a price) or the Tide (commit the work, let time carry it) — and whatever comes back walks into the next Scene, changed. That is the entire machine. All else is rigging hung upon it.
STATION ONE
The Scene
A need arises the table cannot just wish true.
ROAD A
The Water
A truth, a trouble, a scene, for a real answer.
ROAD B
The Tide
Commit a Work; the world moves it a watch at a time.
↺ and whatever the world returns walks back into the next Scene, changed ↺
§ 0.4 THE EIGHT TIMBERS
§ 0.4 THE EIGHT TIMBERS
The fixed vocabulary of the game — the timbers of the hull. These words mean the same at every Council table; a keeper may re-rig the world above, but not rename the timbers below.
I
The Water
Landis, real only in water, who sells true answers at a price.
II
The Council
Shared command with a final say; every vote and dissent minuted.
III
Works
What a crew sets in motion between scenes: an aim, the hands, the stakes.
IV
The Tide
Time itself. Every session advances every open Work one watch.The keeper turns the watch; a session may pass one, or several.
V
The Ledger
What a Work spends: Hands, Power, Standing. Nothing pinned twice.
VI
Squalls
Sealed complications carried by the larger Works, breaking when the weave turns against you.
VII
The Seals
Pre-written clues — Nudge, Bearing, Answer — sealed and shown, in order.
VIII
Price & Grace
The two ways an answer comes: seized with a piece of self, or given freely.
§ 0.5 THE KEEL & THE RIGGING
§ 0.5 THE KEEL & THE RIGGING
Council is a keel, not a world. A table brings its own fiction — a drowned empire, a generation ship, a haunted county — and rigs it to the timbers below. But one timber is not the table's to swap. Landis is fixed. The madman on the sea, real only in water, who sells true answers at a price, stands in every Council game that has been or will be run.
THE KEEL — FIXED
Landis & the Water. The eight timbers and their names. The turn of the tide. Price and grace. The Seals. Mercy.
THE RIGGING — YOURS
The world, its peoples, what Power and Standing are made of, what the riddles guard.
Change everything you like. Leave me the water. — L.F.
II · The Resolution Core
COUNCIL · A PLAYER'S HANDBOOK
THE RESOLUTION CORE
BOOK THE SECOND
how the game answers, when there is no die to throw
A die answered a question the table could not: what is true, and what do you learn? Council keeps the question and throws away the die. In its place stand two hands — one that takes, and one that gives. Learn these two and you have learned the game.
§ 2.1 THE TWO ANSWERS
§ 2.1 THE TWO ANSWERS
When a scene raises a need the table cannot simply declare true, the world answers in one of two ways, and only two. An answer is either seized — bought with something of your own — or it is given, freely, by the hand that made this world. The first is price. The second is grace.
Price
You pay, and you may demand. It costs the self and is always true.
Grace
You are given, and may not demand. It costs you nothing and cannot be earned.
§ 2.2 GRACE — THE GIVEN ANSWER
§ 2.2 GRACE — THE GIVEN ANSWER
The keeper is the god of this small creation — not a tyrant, but a maker, who set its laws and largely lets them run. Grace is the maker's one free hand: the single thing in the game not bound by the world's own rules. An answer given as grace is unearned and unpriced.
Grace cannot be bought, banked, or demanded. A good-faith struggle invites it, and hope draws it near — but nothing compels it. It may fall on the crew who tried hardest; it may fall, just as well, on the one who tried least and needed it most. It falls where it will.
Grace is not counted. There is no pool, no token, no tally at the table's edge. It has exactly one law that binds it: mercy. If a crew is truly aground, grace comes, because the maker will not let the story drown.
And grace comes quietly. It is a nudge slid across the table, unremarked. The keeper need not announce it, and mostly should not. The crew will feel they were lucky. Let them.
Grace is not the keeper being kind against the rules. It is the one rule that kindness was allowed to keep.
§ 2.3 PRICE — THE SEIZED ANSWER
§ 2.3 PRICE — THE SEIZED ANSWER
Where grace is given, price is taken — by you, from you. When you must know a thing now and are willing to bleed for it, you may seize the answer and pay in the only coin the game accepts: something of your own self.
The dearest altar of price is the Water — Landis, real only in water, who trades true answers for pieces of the one who asks. But mark this well: the Water is a rare road, not a daily one. When you do go down to the water, the price climbs with each answer of a single visit:
FIRST
A truth. Confess a secret, or commit a new fact about yourself, aloud. Canon the moment it is spoken.
SECOND
A trouble. The answer is true, and arrives lashed to a fresh complication.
THIRD
The madness bleeds. You glimpse a thing the keeper knows and you should not, and cannot say why.
ALWAYS
A scene. To sit with Landis costs time; the weave moves on while you do.
§ 2.4 THE SEALS — WHAT BOTH HANDS REACH FOR
§ 2.4 THE SEALS — WHAT BOTH HANDS REACH FOR
Price and grace do not invent their answers on the spot. Behind any obstacle worth being stuck on lie three clues, set face-down on the table, in order.
THE FIRST
The Nudge
A single honest word or image.
THE SECOND
The Bearing
What to do next — never why.
THE THIRD
The Answer
Plain as porridge.
They open in order, one at a time. Price opens the next by paying for it. Grace opens the next by giving it — most often the Nudge, for nothing.
§ 2.5 THE ROADS TO A CLUE
§ 2.5 THE ROADS TO A CLUE
A crew that means to pay has more than one road to the next seal — the Water, being dearest, is the one they should walk least:
Honest search
Dig, read, question, pry. Paid in effort and a scene's time. — call it wit by another name.
A Work
Let the Tide carry it (Book III). Slow, priced only in watches.
A letter
Ask one who is absent but would know. Slow as the post.Slow as the post — and those who carry it may read what it says, unless it is sealed.
The Water
Landis, and his climbing price. Walk it least.
The rule that binds every road: it opens the next Seal in order — never a later one, never two at once.
§ 2.6 THE REWARD OF CLEVERNESS
§ 2.6 THE REWARD OF CLEVERNESS
Sometimes a crew closes out a whole labour — a Work, a mission, an obstacle worth being stuck on — with its Seals never broken: no price paid, no grace needed. Each Seal left closed is banked as Slack: a due at the Water. The next time the crew comes to Landis, that much of his usual price is simply waived — one price forgiven for every Seal they earned — and he throws in something past the ordinary menu besides, a thing he judges cool enough for the doing, never named in advance. Slack is spent only there, only with him, and does not linger forever unspent.
Solve it yourself, and the madman remembers you the next time you're wet.
⚑ PROPOSAL 3 — What Landis throws in — gifts past the menufor your sign-off
Your margin:
what kind of thing could Landis give when Slack is due? Slack already waives price; the ‘something extra’ should be a thing money/price can’t buy — strange, true, and never named in advance. A keeper’s stock to draw from:
- A name not yet earned — the true name of a person, ship, or thing the crew hasn’t met.
- A glimpse down the tide — one honest image of a Work’s next squall before it breaks.
- A ward — a one-time ‘this once, the water lies for you’: a single future price refunded.
- A door — the location of still water somewhere it shouldn’t be (behind enemy lines, aboard a ship).
- A dead man’s sentence — the last true thing someone said before the crew could ask.
Rule of thumb: the gift is
knowledge or leverage, never raw Power — Landis deals in truth, not drones.
III · Works & the Tide
COUNCIL · A PLAYER'S HANDBOOK
WORKS & THE TIDE
BOOK THE THIRD
how the world keeps moving even while the table sleeps
A scene is what the crew does with their hands. A Work is what they set in motion and must then wait upon. Everything in this book is bought with the one coin the game keeps honest for everyone at once — time.
§ 3.1 DECLARING A WORK
§ 3.1 DECLARING A WORK
A Work is any labour too large for a single scene — a bomb built, a treaty struck, a ruin excavated, a wound healed. It is written on a card the whole table can see, and it carries three lines and no more:
◦ THE AIM — the plain thing wanted, stated so plainly that its finishing cannot be argued.
◦ THE HANDS — who does it: a person, a department, a people.
◦ THE STAKES — what is pledged from the Ledger to make it possible.
§ 3.2 THE TIDE — WATCHES
§ 3.2 THE TIDE — WATCHES
Time in Council comes in like a tide, on its own, needing no one's permission. Every session, every open Work advances one watch — whether the crew touched it or not.A watch is a unit of fictional time, not a unit of table time. When the keeper turns the watch, every open Work advances one — whether the crew touched it or not. A session may pass one watch, or several; a night’s sleep passes a watch, and a long journey may pass more. Spend a whole scene labouring at a Work, and it takes one watch more. The counts are public.
SMALL WORK
1 watch
A WORK
3 watches
GREAT WORK
5 watches
⚑ PROPOSAL 1 — Turning the watch — keeper guidancefor your sign-off
You decided a watch is fictional time, not table time. Open question from your margin (p.12):
how many watches does a session pass? My recommendation — don’t hard-quantify it; give the keeper three anchors and let fiction do the rest:
- Sleep = 1 watch. A night’s rest always turns one.
- Travel by distance. A hop across the city = 0. A trip off-world and back = 1. A long expedition = 2–3, keeper’s call.
- A full scene of labour = +1 to the Work worked (already in the rules).
So a quiet session might pass one watch; a session that sleeps, travels, and labours might pass three.
Your boxed note (“multiple Works per session, keeper’s discretion”) is already true under this: turning a watch advances
every open Work at once. The thing to decide is whether players can ever
force the keeper to turn a watch — I’d say no; only the fiction turns it, and Forcing (§3.5) is the one player lever on pace.
§ 3.3 THE LEDGER — STAKES
§ 3.3 THE LEDGER — STAKES
A Work spends more than time; it spends the crew's finite holdings, pledged under three headings:
HANDS
people & their labour
POWER
resources, the means
STANDING
goodwill with peoples
A stake cannot be pledged twice — and to wound a pledged stake is to stall everything pledged to it. This is how a single blow lands everywhere.
⚑ PROPOSAL 2 — Giving the Ledger meat — hard Hands & Power, hidden Standingfor your sign-off
Your notes (p.2 “needs meat,” p.11 “quantified … city resource management”) and your answer both point the same way. Proposed split:
- Hands & Power are counted, and public. Give the expedition a pool — e.g. Hands as named departments/teams, Power as concrete stores (ZPM charge, C4, jumpers, drones). A Work pledges specific units; the crew can always see what’s committed and what’s free. This is the ‘city resource management’ layer.
- Standing is not a number the players see. Per your answer: the keeper tracks each people’s regard (Genii, Hoffan, Athosian…) on a hidden scale; players must intuit it from how factions behave. The keeper knows whether a faction will lift a hand; the crew has to read the room.
Open sub-question I’d flag: do you want Standing tracked per-faction as a small hidden dial (e.g. −2…+2), or purely as keeper prose? A dial makes “will they help?” rulings consistent; prose keeps it loose. I lean
hidden dial, prose to the players.
§ 3.4 SQUALLS
§ 3.4 SQUALLS
Every Great WorkEvery Great Work — and, at the keeper’s discretion, some lesser Works — is declared with one sealed complication — its squall — set face-down beside the card. It breaks at the halfway watch, or sooner if the weave calls for it.
§ 3.5 FORCING A WORK
§ 3.5 FORCING A WORK
Once per session, a crew may drive a single Work one extra watch by paying one of two coins:
A TRUTH — confessed aloud, canon the instant it is spoken. Or a truth made true of the Council — a new law passed.
A FAVOR OWED — sealed, called due whenever the keeper pleases.
Note the mark of haste: a forced Work alwaysstill delivers its squall.
⚑ PROPOSAL 4 — “A favor owed — sealed.” What is sealed?for your sign-off
You struck ‘sealed’ and asked
what is there to seal? Two clean readings — pick one:
- (a) Sealed = undefined-until-called. The favor has no named price now; the keeper writes it face-down and reveals it whenever they call it due. What’s ‘sealed’ is the cost. (Keeps the dread; matches Squalls.)
- (b) Drop the seal. A favor owed is just an IOU the keeper can call anytime — no envelope, no mystery. Simpler at the table.
I lean
(a): it makes ‘a favor owed’ scarier than ‘a truth’ and gives you a sealed prop to hand over, which fits Council’s whole reveal aesthetic.
§ 3.6 COMPLETION & WORK ORDERS
§ 3.6 COMPLETION & WORK ORDERS
A finished Work stops being a card and becomes a plain fact of the world. Between sessions the crew may send Work Orders — written instructions to the hands who do the labour — and the keeper answers in those hands' own voices next the table sits.
⚑ PROPOSAL 5 — Between-session play — orders that resolve off-tablefor your sign-off
Your green note (p.13):
a way for things to progress between sessions without wrecking the timeline, and encouraging between-session play. Work Orders already point here; proposed expansion:
- Between sessions, any player may file Standing Orders to the hands they command — written instructions (build, scout, treat, dig).
- These don’t turn extra watches (the timeline is safe): they resolve as of the next watch the fiction turns, and the keeper answers in the hands’ own voice (letterhead) at session start.
- A player who files orders may open the session already mid-scene on their result — the reward for playing between sessions.
This is a natural fit for the Council website: orders in, letterhead replies out.
§ 3.7 THE DIVINE WORK — THE GREAT TIER
§ 3.7 THE DIVINE WORK — THE GREAT TIER
Above the Great Work stands one tier more, reserved for labours that span a whole telling, or a season. A Divine Work is not a card the crew declares; it is a weather the keeper sets moving beneath everything:
No fixed count. No watch-total set at declaring, no countdown shown — even if one is quietly kept.
Many squalls, not one. Several sealed beats, opened one at a time.
A beat may rewrite the card. A beat can recast the aim, add a stake, release another.
Stakes bind and loose over time. Hands and Standing attach and detach across its length.
A Divine Work ends not on a watch but on a turning. Even here the one law holds: mercy.
HOW A STORM SPEAKS — A STANDING HOUSE STYLE
Every squall, every beat, every hard turn is delivered as an in-fiction report on the letterhead of whoever bore it. Never an omniscient voice from the clouds. In Council, the bad news always arrives signed — witnessed, not narrated. Testimony is king.
⚑ PROPOSAL 6 — Trigger Points & non-step-able countdowns — the Divine Work enginefor your sign-off
You don’t have the shape yet and asked for options. Here’s a model that fits ‘The Storm shouldn’t tick until the Genii are ready to be enemies.’
The idea. A Divine Work is a chain of beats. A beat does nothing until its Trigger is met. When it fires, that beat’s watch-clock starts counting — and only then does time bite.
A beat has three lines: Trigger (the fictional condition that arms it), Clock (how many watches once armed), Break (what the beat does — usually a signed squall, sometimes a rewrite of the card).
‘Non-step-able’ means two guarantees: (1) an un-armed beat can’t be advanced, forced, or grace’d forward — no lever moves a clock that hasn’t started; (2) once armed, the clock is the keeper’s, not the tide’s default — it ticks on its own terms.
What arms a trigger? Options (mix freely): a story condition the keeper watches for (Genii reach striking distance); a completed/failed Work (the well is poisoned); a date on the hidden countdown (§3.7, ‘even if one is quietly kept’); or a player action that pokes the sleeping thing.
Storm, worked example: Beat I Outer Bands — Trigger: Genii gain a foothold · Clock: none (mood only). Beat III Eye — Trigger: storm makes landfall on Atlantis · Clock: 3 watches · Break: shield fails, signed by Radek. Beat IV — Trigger: Beat III resolves · Break: Earth’s ship arrives with McKay + partial ZPM. The early beats set weather; the clock only bites once the fiction says it’s time.
Decision I need: is a beat’s clock
visible to players once armed (a ticking dread they can race) or
hidden (they feel the squeeze but don’t see the number)? I’d make it the keeper’s choice per beat — visible clocks create urgency, hidden ones create unease.
⚑ PROPOSAL 7 — Three tiers of Divine Work — keeper guidance (not hard tiers)for your sign-off
You want these as guidance, not a rigid parallel to Small/Work/Great. Proposed as a keeper sidebar:
- An Episode — one session’s worth; a single strong beat. Ex: the dying ZPM on the children’s planet.
- An Arc — spans several sessions; a handful of chained beats. Ex: The Storm; poisoning the well; the first Wraith siege.
- A Saga — one or more seasons; beats that sleep for a long time between arming. Ex: the Wraith threat; Taxe’s Federation; powering the city and getting home.
Same engine (beats + triggers) at every tier — only the span and the patience differ.
⚑ PROPOSAL 8 — “Dependent visible Works” — what I meant, and my recommendationfor your sign-off
This was my jargon; here’s the plain version. A Divine Work is weather the players can’t grab directly. A dependent visible Work is an ordinary Work card the storm throws off that they can grab — the handhold. The Storm (Divine) can’t be ‘solved’; but Shield’s Heart, Project Hammer, and The Catch are visible Works the crew can pour Hands into to change how the storm lands. My recommendation, not a hard rule: every armed beat should expose at least one visible Work the players can act on — otherwise the beat is something that happens to them, which is railroading by another name. Make it a keeper habit, not a law.
IV · Governance
COUNCIL · A PLAYER'S HANDBOOK
GOVERNANCE
BOOK THE FOURTH
who may command a thing to happen — and what it costs to choose
The game is named for this book. A Council is not a throne — it is a table, where authority is shared, choices are witnessed, and the cost of command is that everyone remembers what you decided.
§ 4.1 THE COUNCIL
§ 4.1 THE COUNCIL
A Council is a body of shared command with a single seat that holds the final say. Its virtue is not efficiency — it is the record. Every vote and every dissent is entered and remembered; a voice overruled is not silenced but minuted.
A king may be wrong in private. A chair may only be wrong in front of the table.
⚑ PROPOSAL 9 — The Fasces — an optional name & rule for the final seatfor your sign-off
Your p.15 note: call the single-seat holder the one who
holds the Fasces, rotating each session, and — like the Roman consuls — the others in rotation may
veto. Proposed optional rule:
- The final-say seat rotates each session among those eligible.
- Any other rotation-holder may spend a veto to block a single ruling (once per session), forcing a Council vote instead.
Your wide/narrow question: yes — at a
wide table the keeper can absolutely take the Fasces on some sessions (an in-fiction chair, not the GM hat), which is a lovely way to put the keeper’s avatar on the record. At a
narrow table, rotation is usually just among the player-principals and the keeper stays the world. Tie it to the §4.2 dial.
⚑ PROPOSAL 10 — The Minute — record-keeping (and your voice-memo question)for your sign-off
You circled ‘on the record’ (§4.5) and asked if minuting is practical —
can we use voice memos? Proposed light system,
The Minute: after any vote, override, or Directive, one line goes in the log —
who decided, what, who dissented. That’s all ‘minuted’ needs to mean. A phone voice-memo is a perfectly good Minute.
On tooling — straight answer: I can’t transcribe an audio file directly in this workspace (no speech-to-text here). But the loop you want works fine: run tonight’s recording through any transcription app, upload the transcript (txt/doc), and I’ll keep a running game log and a formal Council Minutes ledger from it — votes, Directives, Works advanced, squalls broken. If you’d rather, dictate a recap (like you just did) and I’ll minute that. I’d suggest we start a Council_Minutes.md in the project and append after each session.
§ 4.2 WHO SITS — A DIAL SET AT SETUP
§ 4.2 WHO SITS — A DIAL SET AT SETUP
Council does not decree who holds a seat; the table sets that dial when it seats its own Council:
THE WIDE TABLE
Every standing head holds a seat and a vote. Loud, slow, truly divided. Choose this for intrigue.
THE NARROW TABLE · DEFAULT
Only the few at the heart of the story sit and vote; the heads report and advise. Choose this for pace — and by default, this is where a Council begins.
Council seats a narrow table by default, and widens only when a table decides the intrigue of a true vote is worth the pace it costs.
§ 4.3 THE SECOND CHAIR — DEPUTIES
§ 4.3 THE SECOND CHAIR — DEPUTIES
A deputy may hold a Work at its present watch, but may not advance it. To move a Work forward wants a Work Order or a Directive from the seat of command.
⚑ PROPOSAL 11 — Reversion — what happens to an unheld Workfor your sign-off
Your p.15 question:
without a deputy, does a pulled Work revert one step each watch? I think your instinct is the right rule, and it’s better than a flat ‘freeze’ — it gives interrupts real teeth. Proposed:
- A Work whose head is pulled (§4.4) and left unheld slips back one watch each watch that passes — the labour decays without its hand.
- A deputy holding it stops the slip (freeze at present watch) but can’t advance it.
- A Directive (§4.5) keeps the head on task, so it neither slips nor pauses.
This answers your ‘what about Carson pinned on the Hoffan cure?’ — pull Carson to an emergency and, unless Keely (deputy) holds it, the cure work rots a watch at a time until he’s back or you Directive him to stay. That’s a real cost, which is the point. (Edit E14 in §4.4 already wires this in.)
§ 4.4 INTERRUPTS
§ 4.4 INTERRUPTS
An emergency that names a head pulls them off their Work automatically. The card freezes until released, or a deputy steps in to hold it — keeping it from slipping back.
§ 4.5 THE OVERRIDE
§ 4.5 THE OVERRIDE
Only the seat of final say may keep a pulled head at their task regardless, by issuing a Directive — a truth committed aloud, on the record.
§ 4.6 ABSENCE BEYOND REACH
§ 4.6 ABSENCE BEYOND REACH
When a head is truly beyond word, the need is met anyway, by whoever stands present, without that head's insight — it shows as something concrete and specific, never a clean sealed squall.
⚑ PROPOSAL 12 — §4.6 Absence Beyond Reach — proposed rewritefor your sign-off
You flagged this as thin. It’s the twin of Interrupts: Interrupts pull a head who’s
here; Absence covers a head who is simply
unreachable (off-world, ascended, missing). Proposed replacement text:
When a head is beyond all word — off-world, ascended, or lost — the table cannot wait on their insight, and the need is met by whoever stands present. The answer still comes, but it comes rough: concrete and specific, shaped by the wrong hands, never the clean sealed squall the absent expert would have drawn. A botany question answered by a soldier gets a soldier’s answer. Mark such Works: when the head returns, they may find the labour done crooked, and worth re-doing.
The distinction to keep: Interrupt = freeze/slip (they’re here, just busy); Absence = it happens anyway, badly (they’re gone).
V · Teach & Ship
COUNCIL · A PLAYER'S HANDBOOK
TEACH & SHIP
BOOK THE FIFTH
for the keeper — how to raise a Council game from nothing, and run it well
The first four books are the game. This one is the craft of it — how to stand a table up in an evening, and the three small arts that make a keeper of you: writing Seals, giving grace, and wounding without cruelty.
§ 5.1 SESSION ZERO — RAISING A GAME IN ONE SITTING
§ 5.1 SESSION ZERO — RAISING A GAME IN ONE SITTING
Council boots in a single evening. Five moves, in order:
1
Rig the world. Agree the fiction — the setting, its peoples, what Power and Standing are made of here.
2
Seat the Council. Decide who holds the final say, and set the dial of §4.2 — narrow by default, or wide for intrigue.
3
Lay the first Ledger. Write two or three opening Works.
4
Teach the Water. Tell the crew, plainly, of Landis.
5
Promise hope. Say aloud the one creed. Then begin.
⚑ PROPOSAL 13 — The one creed — a poetic draft, & the Session-Zero ledger stepfor your sign-off
Two things land here. First, your ‘write a poetic creed’ — a first swing, to be said aloud at Session Zero (§5.1, move 5):
We keep no dice, and we keep no fear.
What we cannot answer, we will pay for true;
what we cannot pay, we will be given.
No door is locked that hope can’t open —
and the only door that locks from the inside is despair.
So we strive, and we pay, or we are given —
and we keep hope, whatever the weather.
Second, move 3 (‘Lay the first Ledger’) needs expanding once P2 lands — it should walk the keeper through setting starting Hands/Power pools and, if you want them,
research tiers (what the expedition can build now vs. what needs a Work first). Flagging; I’ll draft it after you rule on P2.
§ 5.2 THE FIRST ART — WRITING SEALS
§ 5.2 THE FIRST ART — WRITING SEALS
For any obstacle worth being stuck on, write three clues before play and seal them: the Nudge, the Bearing, the Answer. Write them before — never under the pressure of a stuck table, when your judgment is worst.
⚑ PROPOSAL 14 — Sourcing clues — and which letterhead they ride in onfor your sign-off
Your p.17 note: clues can come from many sources — prep them too, at least which source and which letterhead. Proposed addition to §5.2:
- When you seal a clue, also note its source — who knows it, and how it would reach the crew.
- Give it a letterhead: a clue from Beckett arrives as a medical note; from the Genii, as an intercept; from Landis, as a line in still water. Same clue, different voice, different trust.
This dovetails with the Signed Squall (§5.4): in Council,
everything that arrives — good news or bad — arrives signed.
§ 5.3 THE SECOND ART — GIVING GRACE
§ 5.3 THE SECOND ART — GIVING GRACE
Give it quietly. Give it toward the stuck and the hopeful. Do not tally it, do not let it be demanded. Its one hard law is that a truly aground crew always receives it.
§ 5.4 THE THIRD ART — THE SIGNED SQUALL
§ 5.4 THE THIRD ART — THE SIGNED SQUALL
Deliver bad news as a report on the letterhead of whoever bore it. In Council, bad news always arrives signed.
§ 5.5 ON HOPE & HARM — THE TONE OF THE GAME
§ 5.5 ON HOPE & HARM — THE TONE OF THE GAME
Council is built to reward hope. The game may wound — it may cost dearly, and grieve truly. But it breaks only the one who has stopped hoping.
Despair is the only door that locks from the inside.
§ 5.6 WHAT TO PRINT, WHAT TO KEEP
§ 5.6 WHAT TO PRINT, WHAT TO KEEP
Two bundles make a Council game ready for a table:
The Crew's Packet
This handbook, and Landis's two handouts. All a player needs. (For the Council of Un: the crew’s Standing Orders for the expedition ride here too.)
The Keeper's Papers
Sealed Seals, hidden stakes, Divine Work beats. Shown to no one until its watch turns.
The Living Ledger — a place to run Works between sessions: on paper, or (better) online at the Council website, fuckinphilosophers.com.
Print the first. Keep the second. Run the third.