Captain's Log: Episode One, Scene two

-The ARATUS, a DANUBE class Runabout-

Maybe this was a mistake, Dee Lipton thinks to herself as she waits on the bridge of the Aratus. Her legs crossed, her free foot tapping an impatient rhythm in the air. I hate waiting.

Before her on the control panels of the Danube class runabout are views of the contact team in the bio-containment module currently docked with the runabout. The module is entirely sealed off from the rest of the runabout; it has its own power and life support and is loaded with the best scientific and medical gear the Federation could cram into its’ hull. The contact team is already in their hazard suits: full-body protective gear with better protection than a space suit. They’re testing the final connections to the outpost’s external airlock before opening up the module to the interior of the station. Doing things carefully and by the book. Excruciatingly but necessarily slowly.

“You okay, Doc?” the pilot of the runabout asks her from the other command chair on the Aratus. Costes Vandalore has an infectious smile and a flyboy’s confidence. “I got some PADDs loaded with literature, games. Unfortunately they turned down my request to install a Dom-jot table onboard, even though I swear it would fit in the rec space.” 

He jerks a thumb back towards the space behind the four command seats: the ‘rec’ space -as he calls it- is lined with stacked bunks, a replicator and a fresher closet. There’s a bench around a table, and very little room for anything else, much less a gaming table capable of handling a roulette wheel, dice throw trench and spaces for strategic card placements that a proper Dom-jot game requires. The smallest Dom-jot setup Dee had heard of fit in a suitcase and used holograms for everything but the actual money bets.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, she smirks. “Oh, I never gamble with money, Chief. Only lives.”

Costes chuckles, but in that awkward way that shows she’s thrown him off his groove. 

“What I WANT,” she continues, shoving herself out of the command chair and walking into the rec space; “Is to be on the other side of this bulkhead, getting involved directly.” She puts a hand on the aft wall of the deck, as if she could will herself to the other side.

Costes ‘Ahems’ and says: “Well I could beam you over there with the Aratus’ emergency transporter. But then I wouldn’t be allowed to beam you back.”

Dee sighs. “Yes, yes. I know that Chief. I’m just being dramatic.” She returns to her seat at the front of the runabout. She watches the team go about their work for a moment, then keys open a channel.

“Lipton to contact team. What’s your status?”

She sees one of the team turn towards the camera, tap their own comms badge. “Contact team here. We’ve just completed the last seal checks.” He reaches out of view and returns with a remote sensor probe the size of a large fruit, maybe ten centimeters across. “We’re about to deploy the survey remotes.”

“Terrific,” she tells the team leader, “Set the data streams to copy me here, and I’ll set up a bridge for the data to the Asclepius. And let’s keep this channel open.” 

She returns to the ‘rec’ space, orders up several holo-screens to surround the table, and orders a coffee from the replicator before sitting down. One by one the mid-air holographic screens fill with visual and data streams from each of the survey drones as the contact team activates and links them to the Aratus’ network. She in turn opens a channel to the Asclepius and routes the same data there in real time. Entire teams of analysis and specialists were on standby, waiting to see what was going on inside the outpost. She idly wondered if they’d break out the popcorn.

Costes Vandalore puts his boots up on the center console, and activates a PADD and starts to read.

The bio-containment module features a secondary airlock system, which the activated survey remotes hover within on their own tiny lift engines. The outer locks are cycled, and after an initial moment to confirm nobody and nothing was waiting on the other side for them, the remotes then sped off into the interior of the station. They work as a coordinated team, splitting up to cover ground. Gathering information on many wavelengths and beaming it all back to the containment module, then to the Aratus, and then on to the Asclepius. The probes have enough intelligence to coordinate with their siblings, and to recognize points of interest and stop to investigate and ask for help. It doesn’t take long for the first anomaly to be brought to the team’s attention.

A ruddy pink mist filled the first habitat deck. Dee pushed the non-visual data to an analyst team on the Asclepius and asked for an evaluation. Meanwhile she compared the location of the remote with the initial scans from the Asclepius. Sure enough, this was one of the zones of vague lifesigns.

“Proceed with caution,” the contact team lead ordered to the team member controlling that particular remote. The remote floats forward at half its previous speed, scanning in continuous arcs as it goes. 

The analysis team reports their preliminary findings, which blossom across a new holo screen around Dee’s impromptu desk. She draws her attention away from the distraction that the remotes’ varied views provide to give the prelim report a once over. The problem with remote scans is they’re inherently probabilistic; layers of intelligent guesses. Inference and supposition matrices. Bio-organic compounds, almost certainly. Signatures for proteins from half a dozen Federation races, probably. The mist was likely a soup of people. Deirdre Lipton has seen death, dismemberment, even a transporter accident. But this? This was bizarre. Addendums append themselves to the report as the remote enters the mist, direct samples are taken, and the analysis team collapse probabilities into facts.

The other remotes soon encounter other mist fields. Identical properties. Identical mysteries. Maddeningly, there was no obvious cause for this. Weapons fire burned and vaporized organic compounds, and the signs were detectable. Plasma fires denatured proteins when they didn’t vaporize them as well. All known and detectable causes of death. None of which fit the current circumstances.

What she and the crew of the Asclepius had was a puzzle with a couple billion pieces, and no idea what the assembled picture was supposed to be. 

Captain's Log: Episode One, Scene One

 -The bridge of the ASCLEPIUS-

The exec staff file into the bridge from the Captain’s ready room, taking their positions: Dee takes an Ops station at the back of the bridge, next to T’Lara’s science station. It isn’t officially hers, but out of tradition on a medical ship the ship’s chief medical officer has a place on the bridge. Being next to the Vulcan’s science station was also a convenience of proximity. Meredith S’Roke takes her position: An ops station behind the central command seats. Next to her is the ship’s Bajoran Comms officer, Byla Hyrys. Kerric and Dylan have stations on the far left and right sides of the bridge. Je’Ghettorii and Gav Neroon take the central seats. 

“I have the bridge,” Je’Ghettorii announces as he takes the central command chair, “Miss Elison, report.”

“Captain,” the lieutenant at the left hand Ops station says, turning to face the ships CO and XO. Tiana Elison has olive skin and neatly pinned back ebon hair. “We’re at relative rest to the system’s edge. Initial scans show no anomalies or contacts in-system so far. Abel?” 

“Captain,” the human male seated in the right hand Ops station speaks next. His name is Geo Abel. “I have a half-impulse course laid in for Outpost 9712’s known orbit and location that will get us there in under forty five minutes”

Je’Ghettorii nods. “Very good, Helm. Stand by for orders.”

The captain then turns his command chair to look behind him at the communications officer. “Lieutenant Hyrys? Hail outpost 9712. Tightbeam if you please.”

“Transmitting now, Captain,” The Bajoran says. After a few minutes she speaks up again: “No response, Captain.”

Je’Ghettorii shares a meaningful look with his Exec officer. Gav speaks first: “Captain, with no reply and this close to a combat zone, I recommend we go to yellow alert before proceeding.”

Je’Ghettorii nods, turns again to his communications officer:

“Byla, send to the Appelwaithe the following:” He waits for her to nod her readiness before continuing: “ ‘Captain Tonner: Asclepius has arrived in-system. No initial contact with the outpost. Proceeding with caution.’”

“I have it, sir,” Byla confirms.

“Sign it. Seal it. Send it. Commander Neroon: take us to yellow alert.” 

Gav Neroon punches a command into his command chair’s sideboard, speaks in his executives’ voice to the entire ship: “All hands: go to yellow alert.” The yellow alert klaxon sounds and Gav then speaks to the helmsman: “Mister Abel, execute your plot and take us in.”

Dee Lipton decides it’s a good time to check in with her staff. She turns to the ops station screens and hails her executive assistant. T’Pern answers her coms and behind him Dee can see the staff of ‘main medical’ moving and preparing in the wake of the invocation of yellow alert.

“Commander?” he says.

“Hello T’Pern,” she says to him; her fondness for the aged Vulcan showing itself in the way she talks to him. “As you can see, we’re going in with our guard raised. There’s no response from the outpost, so we should be prepared for a high-risk contact situation. Let’s prep a contact team with maximum hazard protections, alright?”

The gray-haired Vulcan nods sagely; “That would be the most appropriate approach. I shall assemble the team and their equipment.”

“Thank you, T’Pern. I’ll keep you informed from the bridge of any developments.”

-Thirty some minutes later-

Outpost 9712 is a spindly structure with a ring-like habitat structure halfway down its length. The Asclepius is pulling up alongside the station. 

On the bridge, the Captain turns to face his science officer. “Scan report, T’Lara?”

The Vulcan replies: “Inconclusive and inconsistent, Captain. There are life signs for approximately one hundred individuals, but I cannot identify or even localize a single one. It is … perplexing. The station is otherwise intact and fully operational.”

Dee leans over from her seat to look over T’Lara’s displays. Instead of well defined knots of biological activity, the station’s living and working spaces are filled with a haze of radiations equivalent to biological metabolic processes. She doesn’t realize Gav has arrived to stand behind her until he speaks, making her jump slightly.

“How is that possible?” he grunts.

Dee gestures at the ‘heat map’ image of the station's layout: “We should see well defined, if slightly fuzzy, spots where individuals are. And even in groups, we should be able to pick out individuals within a cloud of biological activity. Instead we’re seeing a general fog of life form readings. It’s pretty evenly distributed throughout the station. Right, T’Lara?”

“The good doctor is correct in her explanation,” T’Lara says, “Something could be jamming or blocking accurate scanning.” She adjusts her controls, attempting different filters and algorithms. 

“What are your recommendations for the next step?” Gav asks them, his arms folded across his barrel chest.

T’Lara answers first: “I cannot ascertain any more information from here. Direct observation is required before a hypothesis can be formulated.”

“We need boots on the ground” Dee translates, “I have a team ready with hazardous environment gear. We could send them over in a Runabout with a bio-containment module.”

“Why not use transporters?” Gav challenges.

Dee shakes her head. “With an unknown bio-contaminant? We can’t trust the transporters’ biofilters to catch it. Even with the special receiving decks here on the Asclepius, I’d rather have a runabout serving as the foot in the door. The bio-contaminant modules are designed to handle situations like this. They can even be detached and continue to work as a forward base if need be.”

Gav grunts, turns to the captain, who has been listening but not involved in the conversation. Je’Ghettorii meets his exec’s gaze, nods in agreement. Gav turns back to T’Lara and Lipton.

“Very well, doctor. Proceed.”

“Yes sir,” Dee says, standing from her station,”Then we’ll be on our way immediately.”

“Just a moment,” Je’Ghettorii interjects, “Are you intending to go with the contact team, Doctor? Tell me why I should risk my senior medical officer going on this away mission?”

“I don’t have to go into the hot zone, Captain. The runabout’s command deck is separate from the bio-containment module and I can coordinate with the contact team from there. In this situation, communication is essential and the closer to the hot zone I can get, the faster I can react.”

Je’Ghettorii frowns, clearly not happy with the risks at hand. He takes a moment before responding:

“Very well doctor, but you will respect all protocols and keep yourself safe. I cannot afford to lose you.”

Captains Log: Prologue

Computer: Begin recording.

Personal log, Chief Medical Officer Lipton, USS ASCLEPIUS, Stardate [REDACTED]. We are approaching the [REDACTED] system, Pellia sector, on report of unusual biogenic casualties among the staff of an allied outpost- Wait a minute. “Redacted”? What’s wrong with saying [REDACTED]? [REDACTED]. [REDACTED]! [REDACTED], [REDACTED], [REDACTED]! Oh, what the hell?

Dee Lipton angrily puts down the stylus she has idly been twirling in her hand while recording at her office desk, and punches in commands to her terminal. After a couple of waiting beeps a languid contralto voice responds: “Go for S’Roke.” There is a resonant vibrato to the feminine voice.

“Merrith, Dee here. Did you put some kind of auto-redaction filter on my personal files?”

“Ah. Hello doctor,” The Caitian chief security officer of the ASCLEPIUS replies, “I was wondering when you’d notice it.” 

“Wha-, when?” Dee stops herself, refocusing her thoughts, “Since when?”

“Since we left DS9 on this mission. New protocol. Starfleet Intelligence is worried about information leaks and data security.” Her voice subtly rolls her ‘r’s. 

“Aren’t all records encrypted anyway? Especially when transmitted?”

“They are. This is just another layer of data obfuscation. Honestly, Dee, haven’t you played back any of your logs since we embarked?”

Dee thinks for a moment, realizes sheepishly that she has in fact not reviewed a single personal or professional log made since they left the deep space station on their latest assignment. She then frowns.

“Merrith, what would be the point of reviewing my logs, if all the details are redacted?”

Merrith S’Roke makes a sound, not quite a purr but more like a distracted ‘hmmm’ that a human would, then says: “You request de-redaction and use your authentication. All your redacted logs are encrypted with your personal encryption protocol.”

“I have a personal encryption?”

“Everyone does, now,” Merrith said, “Captain has called for a department head meeting in fifteen minutes. See you there.” With that, the channel closes.

Dee leans back in her chair, swings it once around on its swivel base while sighing in exasperation. She then turns back to her terminal: “Computer: resume recording.”

Personal reminder to check with Doctor T’Pern on Medical’s stores of [REDACTED]-GAH!

With a growl of annoyance Dee smacks the cancel control on her terminal. She stands and grabs her lab coat from the back of her chair and shrugs into it. She then leaves her office, choosing to take a long walk to calm herself before arriving at the captain's ready room.

-Captain's ready room, fourteen minutes later-

The doors to the ready room shuush open for Lipton. She’s the last exec staff member to arrive, but she isn’t late. Seated around the long table are the department heads for the ASCLEPIUS. Their position demonstrate an informal hierarchy of responsibilities aboard the Federation medical ship:

Captain Je’Ghettorii, Efrosian, sat at the head of the table. His attention currently focussed on a datapad in his hands.

Commander Gav Neroon stands next to the captain's chair, though he had a chair to the captain’s immediate right. Even standing, the Tellarite still only comes to the Captain’s seated head height. 

Across from the Exec’s chair was another empty chair; one formally left open for visiting dignitaries and high-ranking fleet officers.

The next chair to the left of the captain was empty, waiting for her. Medical missions was the primary mission of the ASCLEPIUS, after all.

Next in line, on the right of Gav’s equally empty chair sat T’Lara, the ship’s Vulcan science officer. Science and medicine being the top two departments aboard the ship.

Tanner Dylan, the ship’s chief of engineering was next right.

Kerric, the ships’ Trill counselor, sat across from the engineer, next to Dee’s chair.

Merrith S’Roke, the Caitian ship’s chief of security, sat next to Dylan. 

There were other empty chairs, but this was the core exec team.

Dee takes her chair.

“You’re late, doctor,” Gav grumbles as a greeting, “but I am used to that.” Tellarites liked greeting known friends with insults. Then again, Dee muses, they like greeting everyone with insults.

“Get your chronometer fixed, Commander. I am not late,” Dee responds, knowing that Gav would appreciate a stout retort. 

Gav sniffs, but can’t entirely hide his bemusement. He takes his chair, turns to the head of the table: “Captain?”

Je’Ghettorii glances up, nods to Gav, turns off his pad. Then turns to the rest of the table. His rich baritone voice commands attention.

“Thank you all. Lets begin,” He taps a string of commands into the panel at his end of the table. The wall screen behind him activates, displaying the profile of a star system. Smaller sections show the systems’ location within the Pellia sector, and another shows Pellia’s disconcerting closeness to the warzone that was the Federation’s current conflict with the Dominion and their Cardassian and Breen allies. They were getting close to the front lines, and the ASCLEPIUS was the opposite of a warship. 

“On Stardate TBD, Outpost 9712 sent coded alert messages signaling biological casualties of unknown cause. Starfleet hasn’t heard anything since. We’re to go in, assess the situation and help where we can. The outpost only has a standing crew of one-hundred-and-fifty, so we can easily take all of them onboard if we need to evacuate.

“Yes, S’Roke?” Merrith had raised her hand and now lowers it and speaks:

“Sir, are we alone out here? What kind of backup and response can we expect?”

“The USS Applewaithe is in the sector, performing patrols. She’s of the new Steamrunner class; fast and no heavyweight, but she still outguns us. If we need her. I’ve already checked in with her captain and we’ll be in regular touch.”

Je’Ghettorii turns to Dee: “Doctor Lipton, is Medical ready?”

Dee nods to her captain: “That we are. We’re still taking stock of the supplies we got at DS9. Things were awfully hectic there, and it’s not impossible we got loaded up with someone else’s supplies, but so far everything is as expected.”

The Efrosian nods in acceptance of her report: “Chaos in wartime is to be expected. I know you and your teams will do their best.”

He then turns to his science officer: “T’Lara?” The Vulan looks up from her own datapad.

“Captain, I have been collecting and collating data from the sector for past medical crises, biological surveys, and other possible factors. I shall have a full report shortly.” Her attention then goes back to her pad, returning to whatever data trawling algorithms she has running.

“Mister Dylan, how’s our ship?” Je’Ghettorii then asks the chief engineer.

“All systems green, sir.” The young man replies. He’s quite young for the position, but highly competent and confident. The war was forcing more and more young officers into leadership roles early. The captain nods and turns to the ship’s counselor.

“Counselor? How’s the crew?”

“Everyone’s in fine spirits, sir,” The Trill male replies. “There’s some trepidation about the ongoing war, of course. That last operation on Deja-IV left some emotional scars, but so far everyone’s eager to get back into the thick of things and do good where they can.”

“Merrith, anything else?” He asks the ship’s security chief. She also serves as the ship’s tactical officer, such as the role was for a medical ship. Merrith S’Roke shakes her head in the negative. 

There’s a chime from the captains panel, followed by a voice: “Bridge to Captain. We’re dropping out of warp at the edge of the system.” In time with the message they all feel the ever-present thrum of the ships’ warp drive change in pitch, and the stream of stars outside the viewport slow to standstill dots of light.

“Alright people,” the captain says, standing from his seat, “Stations. Let’s get to it.”

Star Trek: MASH and Star Trek: CSI?

I have been gifted a copy of Star Trek: Captains Log, which is a solo journaling variant of the 2d20 Star Trek Adventures game by Modiphius. I have two ideas for a Star Trek campaign and either should work for my '52 in 2025' writing project. I'll eventually pursue both, but which should I go after first?

Star Trek: MASH (a working title) is set aboard a Federation medical ship skirting the edge of the Dominion war, performing desperately needed science and medical services in the wake of that conflict. The main character would likely be the senior medical officer aboard the ship, directing their staff of doctors and supporting staff as well as interacting with the captain and crew of the ship. Drawing  ideas from shows like MASH, E.R., as well as sci-fi series like James White's Hospital Station and S.L. Viehl's Stardoc books. Personal drama (doctors vs. doctors), medical mysteries (strange infection of the week), exploring the 'human' condition during wartime, are all themes to explore.

Star Trek: CSI (also a working title) would be a crime solving drama focusing on a small team of specialists who solve technical and science mysteries and incidents around the Federation. TV shows like CSI, NCIS and Scorpion are primary inspirations, as would titles in the Tom Clancy 'verse. While the commanding officer should be a Star Fleet officer, several of the team members might not be; the diversity of skills, talents and abilities needed by the team would reach well beyond standard Star Fleet training and experience. This team would probably be based out of a star base, and either catch rides on whatever starships they could to get to their mission sites as well as probably have their own small fleet of Runabout style ships for their use. 

Star Trek Adventures Captains Log is a slimmed down version of the 2d20 Star Trek Adventures game; It uses the same attributes and disciplines, focuses and values, so characters translate easily between both versions. 

Weird West: Characters and magic in Outgunned Adventures

 Following up on my article about using Broken Compass for the Weird West setting, here’s one on using its sibling game engine, Outgunned Adventures for the same thing. I only currently have the core OA book, and its supplements so far focus on modern action genres, so we have less to adapt than with BC. Out of the core book, all of the Roles and Tropes are appropriate and only need some thematic tweaking to make work in an alternative wild west world; The ‘Ace’ being more about horses, carriages, and trains than automobiles and airplanes. This may impact some Talents and they should be adjusted accordingly.

Gifted characters

While baseline characters in Outgunned Adventures are a combination of a Role and a Trope,  heroes in the Weird West get a third choice for their Gift. This identifies the nature of their magical power plus Feats, Attributes and Skills to support the choice. Every type of magic is empowered by an Feat relevant to that type of magic: “Elementalism” for an Elementalist, “Enchantment” for an Enchanter, “Shifter” for a polymorph, etc. With this initial acquisition, the character gains 3 Mana points, which are used and regained as outlined in the “What If” supplement for Broken Compass. 

If you don’t have “What If” here’s the skinny on Mana: Treat your Mana pool as a Magazine with 3 starting uses. An additional Feat called “Mana” can be acquired multiple times, each of which adds one more Mana point to the character’s pool. Adrenaline and Grit can be spent instead of Mana on a 1:1 cost. 

Small common uses of magic don’t cost Mana but big impressive and flashy uses should. To borrow a term from Burning Wheel: "Color" scenes uses of magic that don't invoke dice rolls don't cost Mana. If you're using magic to get a mechanics benefit, you're spending Mana. Some uses of magic should last an entire scene: a shifter who turns into a bear for an entire fight should only spend one Mana for that entire fight. If they shift into a different form for a different benefit during the scene, that requires another Mana expenditure. 

You recover all your spent Mana when you get a Time-Out (pg 184 of OA); this takes one of your Time-Out actions. Items like “Mana Potions” restore 1 Mana each immediately and can be consumed/used during an action scene with a Basic action.

Your choice of magical Gift also grants +1 FOCUS Attribute point and one Skill point based on the type of GIFT you have.

Magical GIFT: Talent:        +1 Skill:

ELEMENTALIST Elementalism    Force

SHAMAN Shamanism       Leadership

SHIFTER Shifting        Survival

STORMTECH Electrotech Fix

DIVINE FAITH Faith Heal

PLANESWITCH Witchcraft      Survival

ALCHEMIST Alchemy         Know

ENCHANTER Enchantment Stunt

HEXORCIST Exorcist Awareness

ARCANIST Arcane Know

“I want to cast Fireball!”

So how do heroes use their magic? Characters use their magic to give them an opportunity for action that they wouldn’t otherwise have without their magic; the difficulty of the challenge depends on how applicable their approach is to the situation. Skill rolls are still made with a dice pool of their relevant Attribute and Skill. Throwing a fireball? Roll NERVES + Shoot. Turning into a Bear will give you a bonus to your BRAWN + Fight dice pools. 

Weird West: Characters and magic in Broken Compass

Having already outlined the world and some sample characters for my Weird West setting, it’s time to detail some mechanics and character creation. The following assumes you already have knowledge or experience with Broken Compass which has a lightweight game engine and a focus on the narrative and speed and does not have a lot of ‘crunchy’ details. This isn’t a game with ten circles of spells, casting times and strict area-of-effect templates. ‘Magic’ is a general ability or calling; a method special to that character to solve problems that is different than other characters might have. 

I’ll write a separate article about integrating with Two Mice’s other RPG game which is a fraternal twin to Broken Compass, named Outgunned Adventures. It has the same core mechanics as Broken Compass, but different attributes and skills and slightly different terms for character creation.

Gifted characters

The magic of this module draws a lot from the “What If” supplement, specifically the Wild West and Fantasy Quest chapters as they are the most relevant to the Weird West setting. From the core rulebook the following TAGs are appropriate character choices: Action Hero, Cheater, Explorer, Gunslinger, Hunter, Medic “Healer”, Playboy/Femme Fatale, Professor, Rebel, Soldier, Spy, Techie, and Thief. From the “What If” Wild West chapter: all the character TAGS are appropriate to Weird West.

While baseline characters in Broken Compass are a combination of two Tags (like Action Hero, Professor, Thief), the heroes in Weird West choose a third special Tag for their Gift. This identifies the nature of their magical power plus an Expertise, Field and Skills to support the choice. Every type of magic is empowered by an Expertise relevant to that type of magic: “Elementalism” for an Elementalist, “Enchantment” for an Enchanter, “Shifter” for a polymorph, etc. With this initial acquisition, the character gains 3 Mana points, which are used and regained as outlined in the “What If” supplement. An additional Expertise/Trait called “Mana” can be acquired multiple times, each of which adds one more Mana point to the character’s pool. Your choice of magical Tag also grants one FIELD point and one Skill point.

Magical TAG: Expertise: +1 FIELD: +1 SKILL:
ELEMENTALIST Elementalism GUTS Cool
SHAMAN Shamanism SOCIETY         Charm
SHIFTER Shifting WILD            Survival
STORMTECH Electrotech KNOW Tech
DIVINE FAITH Faith SOCIETY         Eloquence
PLANESWITCH Witchcraft WILD Survival
ALCHEMIST Alchemy         KNOW First Aid
ENCHANTER Enchantment KNOW Tech
HEXORCIST Exorcist GUTS Tough
ARCANIST Arcane KNOW Observation

“I want to cast Fireball!”

So how do heroes use their magic? Characters use their magic to give them an opportunity for action that they wouldn’t otherwise have without their magic; the difficulty of the challenge depends on how applicable their approach is to the situation. Skill rolls are still made with a dice pool of their relevant Field and Skill. Throwing a fireball? Roll Guts + Shoot. Turning into a Bear will give you a bonus to your Action + Fight actions.

Small common uses of magic shouldn’t cost Mana, but big impressive and flashy uses should. To borrow a term from Burning Wheel: "Color" scenes uses of magic that don't invoke dice rolls don't cost Mana. If you're using magic to get a mechanics benefit, you're spending Mana. Some uses of magic should last an entire scene: a shifter who turns into a bear for an entire fight should only spend one Mana for that entire fight. If they shift into a different form for a different benefit during the scene, that requires another Mana expenditure.