After years of disrupted schedules, postponed gatherings, and the long stretch of social distancing, the opportunity to once again sit around a table with friends feels both refreshing and strangely nostalgic. For those of us who thrive on collaborative storytelling and the tactile experience of tabletop roleplaying, the break has been difficult. Online tools offered a substitute, but the in-person energy—the shared laughter, the clatter of dice, the subtle gestures between players—remained irreplaceable.

With the relaxation of restrictions, the idea of launching a new campaign surfaced almost immediately. Yet, rather than diving headfirst into a massive, open-ended epic, I decided to take a gentler approach. The plan was to create a mini-campaign: three episodes, carefully designed to be self-contained but rich enough to leave a lasting impression. This would allow us to rediscover the rhythm of in-person play without overwhelming anyone with long commitments or complex systems. It was also a way to test new creative directions, blending personal storytelling interests with the tastes of my players.

The Spark of an Idea

Every campaign begins with a pitch, a rough sketch of what might be explored together. For me, the central question was about the future: what might the world look like in a hundred years? This span of time feels close enough to remain tethered to the present, yet distant enough to allow dramatic shifts in technology, environment, and social structures. The science fiction I imagined would not be light escapism but something layered, exploring how people adapt to change and what new challenges could emerge as humanity pushes boundaries.

I suggested framing the setting through influences that combined the grounded and the strange. I pictured urban backdrops where society wrestles with collapse or reinvention, outer planets transformed into hubs of industry and intrigue, and shadowy organizations struggling to contain forces beyond their control. My inspirations included the sense of near-future uncertainty, the blending of mystery and science, and the promise of space exploration teetering between wonder and dread.

But in tabletop roleplaying, the story is never the game master’s alone. Players bring their desires, and their visions shape the narrative as much as any worldbuilding does. When I pitched the concept, each of the three friends responded in very different ways, adding their own creative slants.

Player Visions

One friend gravitated toward a hard-boiled detective feel. They imagined neon-lit streets, endless rain, and morally gray investigators trying to uncover truths hidden beneath layers of corruption. This perspective leaned heavily into the cyberpunk noir tradition, where technology doesn’t solve problems but amplifies them, and where the line between human and machine blurs until identity itself becomes uncertain.

Another was captivated by the scale of space exploration, suggesting a tone more aligned with interplanetary adventure. They pictured ships managed by small crews, fragile alliances shaped by revolutionary technology, and gateways to distant realms. Their vision recalled sweeping sagas of colonization, mystery, and the dangers of the unknown.

The third friend proposed something entirely unexpected: the role of a director of a mental institution specializing in patients suffering from post-cryogenic stress disorders. It was oddly specific, yet deeply compelling. The suggestion hinted at psychological depth, human fragility, and the consequences of tampering with memory, identity, and time.

What fascinated me most was how these ideas, though different, could coexist. The noir angle provided grit and intrigue, the exploration element gave scale and scope, and the psychological institution concept hinted at the human costs of transhuman technology. Rather than competing, the visions complemented one another, suggesting a rich campaign that could hold all three tones.

Rediscovering a Forgotten Setting

In reflecting on these discussions, I remembered a game purchased years ago but never used: Eclipse Phase. The setting immediately clicked. Here was a science fiction universe already designed to grapple with identity, technology, and interplanetary politics. More importantly, it offered the flexibility to explore multiple tones—detective work, space opera, and psychological drama—all within a single framework.

Eclipse Phase builds its foundation on the idea of Egos and Morphs. An Ego is the digital pattern of a consciousness, while a Morph is the body—organic, synthetic, or virtual—that it inhabits. People can resleeve into new forms, back up their minds, fork into multiple simultaneous versions, or even merge divergent experiences back together. This technology raises questions about gender, individuality, and mortality. If you die, but your Ego is restored from a backup, are you still the same person? If you split into multiple versions of yourself, which one is truly “you. 

These questions were not only philosophically interesting but also narratively fertile. They provided immediate hooks for character backstories, conflicts, and existential dilemmas. And beyond the philosophical depth, the setting spanned the entire solar system, much like expansive science fiction sagas. Humanity, fractured and dispersed after cataclysm, had settled across planets, moons, and asteroids. Vast conspiracies, alien artifacts, and enigmatic gates offered story potential at every turn.

It became clear: Eclipse Phase was the ideal backdrop for the mini-campaign.

Rules Made Simple

However, there was one obstacle. The original Eclipse Phase ruleset is famously intricate, dense with mechanics and detail. Learning the entire system for just three sessions didn’t make sense. Instead, I opted for a streamlined adaptation based on a narrative-focused rules engine.

This system replaced layers of calculation with evocative tools. Characters were defined by aspects, short phrases like “Haunted by Guilt” or “Fearless Pilot,” which could be activated to influence the story. Instead of tracking endless modifiers, players spent and earned narrative points to push outcomes or introduce complications.

The beauty of this system was how it encouraged collaborative storytelling. Successes, failures, and complications weren’t about strict numbers but about shaping drama. If a player leaned into their character’s flaws, they were rewarded. If they wanted to bend the story, they could do so at a cost. This structure emphasized flow and narrative stakes, aligning perfectly with the campaign’s goals.

Digital Character Creation

To preserve face-to-face session time for actual play, we handled character creation remotely. Using a voice platform for discussion and a shared digital board for tracking notes, we built the team together. This process wasn’t just mechanical; it was narrative-driven, weaving backstories into shared experiences and creating connections that would later fuel roleplay.

Three distinct characters emerged:

• Drake: A psychosurgeon who had once uncovered a dangerous viral threat. His reckless curiosity became his defining flaw, balanced by his expertise in medicine and information security. Drake was both a healer and a liability, with a Morph reflecting a standard but genetically optimized human form.

• Ghost: A hardened private investigator whose lust for revenge had consumed his life after a targeted virus attack killed his family. Ghost embodied grit and danger, wielding investigation skills alongside combat readiness. His Morph was similarly human but scarred by trauma and obsession.

• Apple: A daring pilot whose past heroics had been accidental but unforgettable. Reckless and driven, Apple lived on adrenaline, carrying grudges as fiercely as they navigated ships. Their Morph, a flexible robotic form, highlighted adaptability and resilience.

Together, these characters formed a team bound by their recruitment into a clandestine organization known as Firewall. Their shared mission tied them to broader struggles, but their individual motives and histories guaranteed interpersonal tension.

The Promise of Play

As the character sheets took shape, so did the excitement. Each player had created someone flawed yet compelling, someone whose story could unfold in unexpected ways. The choice of a narrative-focused system meant that failures could be as dramatic as successes, and personal conflicts could matter as much as external threats.

Beyond the rules and setting, there was something more fundamental at work: the joy of preparing to sit together once again, to tell a story not through screens but around a shared table. For me, this was more than planning a mini-campaign. It was the act of reclaiming a tradition disrupted for too long, rediscovering the sparks of improvisation and imagination that only happen in person.

The stage was set. The characters were ready. The world awaited exploration. Our first session loomed on the horizon, promising mystery, danger, and discovery—not just within the story but in the renewed rhythm of play itself.

This was only the beginning, a foundation for what would unfold in the following sessions. The campaign would be short, but the scope of its ideas—identity, mortality, exploration, and conspiracy—was vast. Returning to the table wasn’t just about rolling dice. It was about rekindling creativity, reconnecting with friends, and stepping through the doorway of imagination once again.

Session Zero – Building Characters and Shaping the Story

The magic of tabletop roleplaying doesn’t begin with the first dice roll. It starts earlier, in the conversations where players brainstorm who they want to become and how their characters will exist in the shared world. This preliminary phase, often called Session Zero, is just as important as any adventure. It’s where expectations are set, characters are created, and the tone of the campaign is defined. For our mini-campaign, it became a collaborative storytelling workshop, laying the foundation for everything that followed.

Why Session Zero Matters

In any roleplaying game, a campaign is not simply the story told by one person. It is the product of multiple imaginations interacting, often in surprising ways. To make that interaction meaningful, players need to align on tone, goals, and boundaries.

For us, the mini-campaign carried an added layer of significance. It was our first face-to-face project after a long break, so time was precious. Rather than spending hours of our first in-person session trying to understand the rules or write characters from scratch, we agreed to dedicate a digital session beforehand to get organized. That way, when we gathered physically, we could jump directly into the narrative, already knowing who our characters were and what motivated them.

A Session Zero also allows players to connect their backstories, building relationships that will later enrich play. Characters who know each other’s strengths, weaknesses, or past exploits make for more dynamic storytelling. Instead of being strangers thrown together by coincidence, they feel like a team shaped by shared experiences.

Choosing the Rules Engine

While the Eclipse Phase universe provided the setting, I needed a system that would make storytelling accessible. The original rules, though robust, were dense and number-heavy. For a three-part mini-campaign, that complexity would slow things down and frustrate newcomers.

The narrative-focused adaptation we used replaced long lists of statistics with aspects, skills, and stunts. Characters were described not just by numbers but by evocative sentences that captured their personalities. An aspect could be something like “Driven by Revenge” or “Never Leaves a Mystery Unsolved.” These phrases could be called upon to give bonuses during play, or conversely, they could create complications when the aspect caused trouble.

At the heart of this system lay fate points, a kind of narrative currency. Players could spend points to push the story in their favor or invoke their aspects for dramatic effect. They earned points back by embracing setbacks and complications. The result was a balance between success and failure that made the narrative feel alive. Rather than punishing players for bad rolls, the system rewarded them for leaning into drama.

Collaborative Creation

When the group met online to build their characters, I began by framing the campaign’s premise. The characters would be sentinels, agents working for a secretive organization tasked with protecting transhumanity from existential threats. This structure gave a clear reason for them to work together while leaving room for personal motives to shape how they approached missions.

I encouraged each player to think not just about abilities but about identity. In a universe where minds can be transferred between bodies, what makes someone unique? Is it their memories, their habits, or their sense of morality? Would they choose to resleeve into a different body for practical reasons, or would they cling to a preferred identity despite the risks?

The resulting discussion was rich, sometimes philosophical, sometimes playful. Slowly, three distinct characters emerged, each reflecting the personality of their player while tying into the broader themes of the setting.

Drake – The Reckless Psychosurgeon

The first character created was Drake, a psychosurgeon with a dangerous streak of curiosity. His concept was “Soul Healer on the Run,” immediately hinting at a past filled with both expertise and controversy. Drake specialized in medicine and neuroscience, someone capable of repairing or altering the minds of others.

His flaw was equally defining: reckless curiosity. Drake couldn’t resist probing into mysteries, even when doing so put him or others at risk. This flaw promised to create tension later in the story, as his drive to uncover knowledge would inevitably collide with the dangers of the universe.

For skills, Drake focused on medicine, hardware, and infosec, reflecting his ability to manipulate both biological and digital systems. His stunts included psychosurgery, the capacity to perform mental alterations, and scorcher, a tool for wielding brain-affecting technology as a weapon.

Drake’s chosen Morph was a splicer, a genetically enhanced human body built for general adaptability. Not flashy or specialized, but reliable. In many ways, the splicer represented Drake’s pragmatism, even if his mind was anything but cautious.

Ghost – The Detective with Nothing to Lose

The second player leaned heavily into noir inspiration, producing Ghost, an underground investigator hardened by loss. His concept was “Private Detective in the Shadows,” and his defining flaw was “Lust for Revenge.” Ghost’s backstory included the death of his family in a targeted viral attack, an event that left him consumed with anger and suspicion.

Ghost’s skills reflected his investigative focus. He excelled at kinesics (reading people), shooting, and investigation, making him both an interrogator and a combatant. His stunts included Ego Hunter, allowing him to track digital traces of individuals, and Eye for Weakness, which gave him an edge when exploiting vulnerabilities.

Like Drake, Ghost currently inhabited a splicer morph, but his demeanor and purpose set him apart. Where Drake was driven by curiosity, Ghost was propelled by vengeance, his every action colored by the desire to bring criminals and conspirators to justice. His presence guaranteed that the campaign would carry the grit and shadows his player desired.

Apple – The Maverick Pilot

The third character was Apple, whose creation leaned toward flamboyance and daring. Apple’s concept was “Maverick Speed Racer,” a pilot who lived for adrenaline and bold maneuvers. Their flaw was “Never Lets Up a Grudge,” a trait that promised fiery interpersonal conflict whenever grudges formed.

Apple’s skills highlighted piloting, notice, and reputation, making them a natural leader in navigation and perception. Their stunts included Bot Jammer, a tool for disrupting robotic systems, and Situational Awareness, granting them sharp instincts in chaotic environments.

Apple’s Morph was the most unusual of the three: a flexbot, a modular robotic form capable of adapting physically to different challenges. This choice reflected both Apple’s resourcefulness and their larger-than-life personality.

The player behind Apple admitted a strong affection for space opera narratives, bringing a slightly more romanticized energy to the campaign. While the Eclipse Phase setting leaned toward hard science fiction, Apple’s presence promised to inject flair, charm, and a bit of drama.

Weaving Shared Histories

Once the characters were defined individually, we focused on weaving their histories together. This step is critical in collaborative storytelling, as it transforms a group of strangers into a cohesive team. Through discussion, we built a shared timeline that included:

• Before Firewall: Each character described their life prior to recruitment. Drake had been a researcher and surgeon who crossed ethical boundaries. Ghost had been an investigator operating in the underworld. Apple had been a daredevil whose reckless piloting accidentally saved hundreds of lives during a botched heist.

• The Recruitment: Firewall had noticed them not only for their skills but for their willingness to confront danger. Their unique flaws—reckless curiosity, burning revenge, and relentless daring—were double-edged qualities, valuable for missions yet dangerous if unchecked.

• A Shared Mission: Together, the group recalled a recent operation that had tested their abilities. They invented details collaboratively: a crisis involving corrupted data, a confrontation with hostile forces, and a narrow escape. This shared mission gave them a reason to trust one another, even if grudgingly.

These shared memories didn’t just establish camaraderie; they created story hooks. Old grudges, unresolved mysteries, and unfinished business could resurface later, enriching the ongoing campaign.

Tone and Expectations

As Session Zero concluded, we also discussed expectations. A narrative system thrives on collaboration, so players were encouraged to embrace complications rather than avoid them. If Ghost’s lust for revenge caused a problem, or if Drake’s curiosity endangered the mission, those weren’t mistakes—they were opportunities for drama.

We also clarified the campaign’s intended tone: a mix of investigation, exploration, and philosophical tension. The setting was vast, but our mini-campaign would remain focused. Themes like identity, mortality, and trust would take center stage.

The players responded enthusiastically, already imagining how their characters might clash and cooperate. Ghost’s suspicion, Drake’s probing mind, and Apple’s fiery temper promised sparks from the very beginning.

Session One – Shadows Over Chat Noir

The stage was set. Characters had been crafted, their flaws and strengths firmly in place, and expectations clarified. Now it was time to bring them to life in the first in-person session. After years without the tactile rhythm of rolling dice across a table, there was something almost electric about seeing the group gathered again, physical character sheets spread out, snacks within reach, and the anticipation of stepping into a shared story.

The chosen backdrop was Chat Noir, a sprawling industrial metropolis on Oberon, one of Uranus’s icy moons. This city was more than a random location; it symbolized the precarious balance of human ambition and cosmic indifference. Built on the daylight side of Oberon, it faced a looming catastrophe: within a few years, the sun would dip below the horizon, plunging the city into four decades of night. That detail infused the setting with tension, as if time itself pressed against the walls of every skyscraper and factory.

The Hook: A Theft That Could Change Everything

The session began with a call to action. Firewall, the clandestine organization employing the characters, had flagged a dangerous anomaly: the theft of two hundred infogees. Infogees were inert digital copies of minds belonging to individuals who lacked the wealth or opportunity to be reinstated into bodies. To some, they were little more than data. To others, they represented lives waiting to be awakened.

The theft was traced back to a hacker known as Baphomet, who had hijacked a shipment moving from Saturn’s moon Pan and rerouted it toward Chat Noir. The motive was unclear. What would someone gain by stealing disembodied minds? Was it ransom, exploitation, or something more sinister?

For Firewall, the potential implications were catastrophic. Infogees could be weaponized, corrupted, or enslaved. Worse, whispers of arms shipments in the Uranian system suggested that the theft was part of a larger scheme. The characters—Drake, Ghost, and Apple—were tasked with uncovering Baphomet’s plan, recovering the stolen minds, and preventing a crisis before it unfolded.

The Streets of Chat Noir

As the players settled in, I described Chat Noir’s atmosphere in detail. The city pulsed with industrial energy, its economy fueled by gas extraction from Uranus and trade routes to the inner system. Smoke stacks spewed against the dim light of a distant sun, while neon signage flickered in the perpetual twilight of the industrial sector. The streets were crowded with splicers, uplifts, synthmorphs, and occasional flexbots, each moving with a purpose in a city that seemed both alive and exhausted.

The group immediately fell into character. Ghost, ever suspicious, scanned the crowds for potential tails. Drake pulled out digital overlays to cross-reference medical records and transport logs, curious about how the stolen infogees might be stored. Apple, restless and itching for action, kept their attention on the flow of vehicles entering and leaving the spaceport.

The first lead was simple but promising: cargo records pointed to a ship called the Rosanne, recently docked after arriving from Pan.

Mechanics in Action

This was where the narrative rules engine shone. Instead of getting bogged down in endless modifiers, the players rolled their fate dice—custom six-siders marked with pluses, minuses, and blanks—to resolve actions. Each roll, combined with skill ratings, created results ranging from disastrous to extraordinary.

Ghost’s player invoked his aspect of “Persistent Shadower” to gain a bonus when tailing dockworkers who might know more about the Rosanne. In doing so, he spent a fate point. Later, when a complication arose—a rival gang noticing his surveillance—I rewarded him with another fate point for embracing the danger.

Drake leaned on his “Reckless Curiosity” flaw during a hacking attempt. He succeeded in accessing cargo manifests but triggered a secondary alert, putting an unknown party on their trail. Rather than viewing this as a setback, the group embraced it as fuel for narrative tension.

Apple’s piloting instincts came into play even without a ship. Spotting the movement of cargo trucks, Apple created an advantage aspect called “Eyes on the Ground,” allowing the group to reroll when tracking shipments through the chaotic port.

Every decision became layered, not just with numbers but with narrative flavor. The group quickly understood that the system rewarded creativity and risk-taking.

The First Clues

Their investigation of the Rosanne revealed that Baphomet himself wasn’t aboard, but a suspicious passenger named Garry West had traveled on the ship. His movements since arrival were difficult to trace, suggesting deliberate effort to go underground.

To get this information, the group confronted Paul Vieira, captain of the Rosanne. Ghost played the role of intimidating investigator, leaning on his noir persona, while Drake acted as the calm, rational voice, offering subtle reassurances. Apple loomed in the background, their flexbot frame shifting slightly to highlight its inhuman adaptability.

The negotiation played out as a contested roll. Ghost succeeded in cowing Vieira, but at a cost—the captain revealed that people had already been asking about Garry West. The implication was clear: another faction was interested in the same trail.

Tension Rises

At this point, I introduced the shadow of a third party. While the characters combed the port records and streets, they realized they were being followed. A group of operatives, faceless and efficient, seemed intent on trailing them without revealing themselves.

This development electrified the table. Ghost wanted to confront them immediately, reckless with his desire for direct answers. Apple suggested turning the chase into a trap, using the crowded spaceport to create a diversion. Drake, more cautious, argued for retreat to regroup with Firewall contacts.

The system made such disagreements meaningful. Ghost spent a fate point to press his argument, invoking his “Contempt for Danger” aspect. Apple countered with a roll emphasizing “Situational Awareness,” trying to convince the others that springing a trap could reveal valuable information. The table buzzed with discussion as players weighed risks against rewards.

Ultimately, they compromised: they would lead the tail into a neutral sector of the city, away from bystanders, and confront them on their own terms.

The Flavor of Chat Noir

Before the confrontation could unfold, I took time to emphasize the setting again. Chat Noir wasn’t just a backdrop; it was a character in its own right. Towering arcologies housed tens of thousands, their interiors filled with marketplaces, entertainment districts, and dangerous alleys where corporate influence clashed with anarchist ideals. The looming presence of the Fissure Gate, one of the enigmatic portals scattered across the system, reminded everyone that this city was more than an industrial hub. It was a threshold to other worlds, and its strategic importance was incalculable.

The players reacted with awe. Apple’s player mused about the thrill of flying near the Gate, while Drake worried aloud about what kind of pathogens or alien influences might leak through. Ghost, ever skeptical, dismissed the Gate as a distraction from the immediate investigation. Their responses made the world feel alive, with each character filtering it through their own perspective.

A Cliffhanger Ending

As the session drew to a close, time forced us to pause. The characters had uncovered critical leads: the stolen infogees, the involvement of Baphomet, the mysterious Garry West, and the presence of a third party intent on following them. They had tested their skills, spent and earned fate points, and embraced complications that pushed the story into unexpected directions.

We ended with the group cornering their pursuers in a narrow industrial alley, neon reflecting off wet pavement, the sound of machinery echoing in the distance. The operatives, realizing they had been exposed, turned to face the team. Weapons gleamed. The players leaned forward in their chairs, ready for the confrontation. Then I called time.

The cliffhanger worked perfectly. Players left the table buzzing with speculation: Who were these pursuers? Were they tied to Baphomet, or were they another faction altogether? Could Garry West be more than a simple passenger? And what would happen if the infogees were lost forever—or worse, corrupted into something unrecognizable?

Reflections on the First Session

Session One accomplished everything I had hoped for. The group grew comfortable with the rules, learning how to invoke aspects, create advantages, and embrace complications. They experienced how fate points could shift the story, making them active participants in narrative direction. Most importantly, they immersed themselves in the Eclipse Phase setting, embracing its complexity without being overwhelmed by technicalities.

The characters’ personalities also began to shine. Ghost’s suspicion and recklessness clashed with Drake’s cautious yet curious intellect, while Apple injected energy and bravado that kept the story moving forward. Their differences promised both conflict and synergy, the perfect recipe for compelling play.

And beyond the mechanics, the return to face-to-face play felt transformative. Sharing the physical space, reading each other’s expressions, and feeling the dice roll across the table reminded us all why this hobby has such enduring appeal. It wasn’t just about solving a mystery; it was about creating it together, moment by moment, in a way no script or screen could replicate.

As we packed up the dice and notes, we knew we had only scratched the surface. The investigation was just beginning, and the true dangers of Chat Noir—and beyond—still lay hidden. But the table was alive again, and that was victory enough.

Resolution in the Depths of Eclipse Phase

The alley confrontation marked the true beginning of the players’ descent into the shadows of Chat Noir. With three operatives facing them under the dim neon haze, the characters realized they were no longer the hunters but the hunted. It was the kind of cinematic tension tabletop players live for—uncertain allegiances, weapons drawn, the promise of answers mixed with the risk of irreversible consequences.

The Pursuers Revealed

Ghost took the lead, stepping forward with his trench-coat silhouette cutting sharply against the glow. He attempted to intimidate the strangers into revealing their purpose. The roll succeeded—but only barely. Instead of folding, the operatives admitted they were agents of a rival security collective, one with no formal allegiance but plenty of corporate funding. Their orders were clear: monitor all inquiries about the stolen infogees and neutralize any threats to their employers’ agenda.

This revelation deepened the mystery. Who was funding this collective? Were they after the infogees themselves, or was their goal to cover up Baphomet’s theft? The players leaned in, debating how to handle the encounter. Drake argued for restraint, wanting to glean as much information as possible. Apple favored direct action, flexbot components already shifting for combat. Ghost, caught between his thirst for answers and his contempt for danger, left the decision to the dice.

Combat erupted when one operative lunged, attempting to silence the team before they could spread what they knew.

The First Major Conflict

Fate’s mechanics made the skirmish fluid and narrative-driven rather than bogged down in tactical minutiae. Ghost invoked “Eye for Weakness,” using his investigator’s sharp gaze to predict and counter enemy movements. Drake leveraged his medical training, not as a weapon but as a tool for disabling opponents non-lethally—targeting joints, using improvised shock injectors. Apple, meanwhile, embraced their flexbot form to full advantage, reshaping into a multi-limbed whirlwind of speed and strength.

The players quickly discovered that combat wasn’t about simple hit points. Instead, stress tracks and consequences forced them to narratively justify how their characters absorbed and dealt with harm. Ghost ended up with a bleeding wound across his shoulder, which he wove into his roleplay by becoming more desperate and erratic. Apple sustained heavy physical strain, their frame sparking as systems overloaded. Drake suffered a mental consequence—anxiety triggered by the realization that these operatives had advanced training in psychosurgical countermeasures.

The fight ended with two enemies incapacitated and one fleeing into the maze of alleys. Though battered, the team emerged victorious, having proven their ability to handle direct threats while still raising the stakes.

The Garry West Trail

The immediate danger dealt with, the team refocused on Garry West, their only tangible lead. Their investigation revealed he had rented a small industrial loft in the undercity. Getting there meant traversing Chat Noir’s darker underbelly, where neon gave way to shadows, and every corner threatened surveillance or ambush.

In the loft, they uncovered evidence that West was more than just a random passenger. He had been in contact with Baphomet and seemed to be preparing a storage array for data integration. The chilling implication was that the stolen infogees weren’t merely data—they were being prepped for repurposing, possibly as weaponized AIs or enslaved digital labor.

Here, the system’s narrative style allowed the players to shape the environment. Drake succeeded on a hardware roll, creating the aspect “Fragile Data Trace,” which allowed him to recover fragments of correspondence between West and Baphomet. Ghost’s investigative skills uncovered clues about encrypted shipments hidden among gas freighter manifests. Apple contributed by hacking into transport grids, planting false data to conceal the team’s movements from rivals.

The threads began converging. Baphomet was orchestrating something massive, using Chat Noir’s status as a gateway hub to smuggle stolen minds off-world. The group realized the Pandora Gate itself might be the ultimate destination.

The Second Session Climax

As the team pieced this together, I heightened the tension with another faction making its presence felt. This time, it wasn’t human pursuers but autonomous drones, sleek and lethal, programmed to silence intruders. Their sudden attack in the industrial loft forced the group into a desperate defensive stand.

Apple shone here, using “Bot Jammer” to disrupt the drones’ targeting systems. Ghost coordinated fire, invoking his noir sensibilities to create an aspect called “Cover in the Shadows,” granting the group better defensive rolls. Drake, though shaken, hacked into one drone mid-battle, turning it against its allies for a few crucial moments.

The fight left the loft in ruins, but it also handed the group a victory—data logs inside the drones confirmed their suspicion. Someone intended to send the infogees through the Fissure Gate.

Session Three: Racing the Clock

By the final session, the stakes were unmistakable. If Baphomet succeeded, two hundred stolen minds would vanish into the unknown, their fate left to forces beyond Firewall’s control. The players agreed: they had to intercept before the shipment disappeared forever.

This led to one of the campaign’s most memorable sequences: the team infiltrating Chat Noir’s Gate Complex, a sprawling fusion of alien architecture and human engineering. Unlike the chaotic streets of the city, the Gate Complex was sterile, corporate, and heavily guarded. Ships lined up for transit, each one representing billions of credits in investment. Security teams monitored every corridor. And looming at the heart of it all, the Fissure Gate shimmered like a wound in space, humming with possibility and dread.

Here, the players’ different approaches truly clashed. Ghost favored disguises and subterfuge, slipping past guards with his investigator’s cunning. Apple wanted to hijack a shuttle and blast through. Drake argued for subtle hacking to manipulate clearance codes. The tension created roleplay gold as they debated, compromised, and occasionally rolled against each other to test persuasion.

In the end, they blended their methods. Ghost bluffed their way through checkpoints while Drake rewired security feeds. Apple, frustrated at the lack of direct action, improvised by commandeering a cargo loader and using it as both transport and cover.

The Final Showdown

Their efforts led them to the cargo bay where the stolen infogees were stored. Waiting for them was Baphomet himself—or rather, a forked instantiation of his ego inside a heavily modified morph. Cold, calculating, and utterly detached, he explained his reasoning with chilling calm.

To him, the infogees were wasted potential. Humanity had squandered its chance to transcend, clinging to outdated notions of individuality and ownership. By sending the stolen minds through the Gate, he claimed he was offering them liberation—an opportunity to evolve beyond the confines of transhuman politics and corporate greed.

The players were stunned. Was this villainy or a radical form of altruism? The debate at the table mirrored the debate in character. Ghost spat back accusations of cruelty, drawing on his own trauma of losing family to viral corruption. Drake hesitated, intrigued by the philosophical underpinnings even as he recognized the danger. Apple dismissed Baphomet’s rhetoric, focusing on the immediate threat he posed.

The confrontation escalated into the campaign’s climactic battle. The Gate pulsed ominously in the background as combat unfolded. Baphomet’s morph proved formidable, enhanced with advanced cybernetics and backed by automated defenses.

Highlights included:

• Ghost using fate points to exploit Baphomet’s arrogance, catching him off-guard with unexpected maneuvers.

• Drake performing an on-the-fly psychosurgery attempt mid-combat, destabilizing Baphomet’s forked ego.

• Apple piloting the commandeered loader into battle, smashing through drones in a spectacular display of flexbot versatility.

The fight ended in a narrow victory. Baphomet’s fork collapsed, destabilized by Drake’s intervention, while the stolen infogees were secured before shipment. But the Gate’s shimmer remained, a reminder that another version of Baphomet—or something worse—might still be waiting beyond.

The Aftermath

The campaign concluded with a moment of quiet reflection. The characters had succeeded in preventing disaster, but their victory felt bittersweet. Two hundred digital lives were safe, yet the questions raised by Baphomet lingered. Was humanity truly prepared for the moral dilemmas of digitized consciousness? Could Firewall—or anyone—hope to keep such technology contained forever?

The players embraced this ambiguity. Ghost vowed to continue hunting figures like Baphomet, though his scars ran deeper than ever. Drake resolved to study the psychosurgical implications of forked egos, even as he feared what his own curiosity might unleash. Apple, exhilarated by the chaos, dreamed of flying through the Gate one day, no matter the risks.

Reflections on the Mini-Campaign

From a storytelling perspective, the three-part campaign was an unqualified success. The simplified Fate system allowed us to focus on narrative flow rather than getting lost in mechanics. The players grew comfortable invoking aspects, creating advantages, and embracing consequences that enriched the drama.

Equally important, the Eclipse Phase universe offered a playground dense with philosophical and thematic depth. The blend of noir investigation, corporate conspiracy, and cosmic wonder scratched every itch—whether a player wanted Blade Runner’s atmosphere, The Expanse’s scope, or even the oddball psychological themes of cryogenic trauma.

But perhaps the most valuable takeaway was the experience of returning to face-to-face play. After years of isolation and digital substitutes, there was magic in rolling dice across a table, reading expressions, and sharing in collective tension. The laughter, the debates, the hushed silence during cliffhangers—all of it reminded us why tabletop roleplaying endures.

Final Thoughts

Looking back on the three-part mini-campaign, what stands out most is not only the story itself but the experience of sharing it face to face. After years of distance, stepping back into a room with dice, paper, and friends felt like a rediscovery of something vital. It was less about mechanics or worldbuilding than about the spark of connection—moments of laughter, hesitation, and surprise that only emerge when people build a story together.

The Return to Play

The first thing I noticed was how different the rhythm of in-person sessions felt compared to online play. Digital tools had filled a gap, but they could never fully capture the small, unspoken cues that happen across a table. A raised eyebrow, a chuckle at the right time, or the silence that stretches before someone makes a bold decision—these subtleties enriched every scene. Returning to that environment was as much a relief as it was a celebration.

The mini-campaign format turned out to be the perfect choice. Three sessions gave us a clear beginning, middle, and end, without the weight of a sprawling epic. It allowed us to focus tightly on character development and thematic exploration. The limited scope forced creativity, making each choice matter more, and leaving players hungry for what might come next.

The Value of a Rich Setting

The chosen universe provided fertile ground for this exploration. It is a place where identity is fluid, where technology challenges the definition of humanity, and where societies stretch across planets while still carrying old flaws. This backdrop encouraged big questions: What does it mean to be yourself when your consciousness can be copied or altered? How do people navigate a world where death can be undone but trust can’t?

Even though we touched only a fraction of the setting, it gave us room for noir mystery, philosophical reflection, and cosmic intrigue all in one. The players’ different preferences—detective grit, interstellar adventure, and psychological nuance—each found a home here, blending into a narrative that felt layered and alive.

A System That Encouraged Storytelling

Simplifying the rules was another decision that paid off. By focusing on narrative mechanics rather than complex calculations, we kept the momentum on character choices and consequences. Players leaned into flaws, took risks, and let setbacks drive the story forward.

The use of aspects and narrative points meant the characters’ identities shaped play as much as their skills did. Ghost’s fixation on revenge, Drake’s reckless curiosity, and Apple’s thrill-seeking all directly influenced how the story unfolded. Instead of limiting possibilities, the streamlined system expanded them, allowing for bold improvisation and collaborative worldbuilding.

Character Journeys

Even in a short arc, the characters left a strong impression. Each felt distinct, with personal stakes woven into the broader plot.

• Ghost, hardened by grief, sought justice but discovered that the line between victim and aggressor can blur when pain drives every choice.

• Drake, fascinated by the boundaries of consciousness, saw how curiosity can open doors to knowledge but also to peril.

• Apple, driven by energy and impulse, thrived in chaos while revealing an unspoken desire for new horizons.

What made these arcs resonate was not resolution but transformation. None of them left unchanged. The brevity of the campaign sharpened their journeys, condensing growth into decisive moments rather than drawn-out arcs.

Themes That Linger

At the heart of the story was a question embodied by the antagonist: should humanity cling to its fragile individuality, or embrace a new existence beyond known boundaries? The players rejected Baphomet’s ideology, but his arguments forced them to grapple with uncomfortable truths.

That ambiguity stayed with us after the final dice were rolled. Was Baphomet a villain, a visionary, or both? Were the infogees rescued from exploitation, or denied a strange kind of liberation? The lack of simple answers made the story more powerful, leaving us with reflections rather than closure.

Lessons from the Experiment

The mini-campaign highlighted several lessons worth carrying forward:

• Focused arcs can be just as impactful as long campaigns.

• Allowing players’ input to shape the world strengthens investment.

• Embracing ambiguity makes the story linger beyond the session.

• Simplicity in rules frees more space for creativity and character.

These insights reinforced that tabletop roleplaying doesn’t need grand length or elaborate systems to leave a mark. Sometimes a short, focused story told with the right group is enough.

The Heart of the Experience

What this mini-campaign ultimately proved is that roleplaying is less about the details of a system or setting and more about the act of creating together. The mechanics and world matter, but what makes the hobby endure is the collaboration—the way stories emerge from unexpected dice rolls, quick thinking, and shared imagination.

For me, the greatest reward was seeing how three different visions—noir investigation, cosmic exploration, and psychological drama—came together into something none of us could have created alone. That synthesis is the essence of why people gather around a table, and why the hobby continues to thrive across generations.