Last night, I ran Wrath of the Tikbalang again, and it was probably one of the longer sessions I've had. With five investigators and all the personal drama of a Filipino soap opera in addition to the murder mystery adventure that is 'Wrath', it took us a whole six hours to get through session zero and playing the entire adventure to its completion. I'd say this scenario stands out among many of the One of Us Will Die scenarios because of its fixed setting (most of the scenarios are setting agnostic) and it's unapologetically Filipino themes.

Recently I've been faced with the question as to why it is that every time I ask the table for their preferred scenario, more often than not, some or most of them will always mention "Wrath of the Tikbalang". It is the most played and requested scenario as of today. I asked into it, and the answer seems to be unanimous: most of my player-base as of 2024 are Filipino. 

It's a common stereotype that Filipinos will consume and praise anything in an international market that represents them. I myself remember watching Star Wars: Acolyte and being generally unimpressed with the show and then totally losing my cool when I found out we had a Filipino Sith lord wearing cortosis armor. It's a response a lot of us tend to have, seeing our culture or likeness stand out in a sea of Eurocentric content. The overabundance of western literature in our sphere isn't something I condemn. After all this game is very much inspired by a lot of what's been produced in western literature and even mainstream Hollywood, and as an avid consumer of English language media myself, I can't help that most of the scenarios are based on such. The mystery system for Wrath is even inspired from The Between, an RPG set in Victorian London.

But at some point, I just had to create something more homegrown. Something based on the terrifying stories I heard as a kid, of horse-headed predators that roam the night, snatching up bad children or wandering maidens, infantile demons that lure naive but well-meaning rescuers and shapeshifting ghouls. Everyone in the Philippines has heard of the Tikbalang and his like, and recognizing it in a police line-up next to minotaurs, orcs and krakens makes us feel like we've just recognized an inside joke that belongs to us.

I think it goes deeper still. Wrath of the Tikbalang isn't just about a murderous Bojack Horseman impersonator. The way so many players have played through it, it's become about this collective suffering we as a people shared at the hands of colonizers, religious leaders and dictators throughout history. The first world-building question is "What year is it?". While always set in rural Philippines, players are given free reign of when to set the story, which makes all the difference for the themes and challenges of the adventure. Every single time, they've chosen a time of oppression, usually the revolution against Spain or around the period Ferdinand Marcos Sr. was president.

Despite a serial killer being on the loose and making people disappear, I see fingers being pointed at the priest, the rich landlord or the local politician. The players are always so quick to point out that the real ills destroying and slowly killing this town aren't the monsters in the woods kidnapping and dispatching locals, but the corruption that runs deep in the church and the government. This is prevalent even with how the scenario opens with a quote from Dr. Jose Rizal himself, who wrote Noli Me Tangere (The Social Cancer) we all know and love (or love to hate) from high school. To a lot of players, the Tikbalang killer is only a reflection of the ugliness that we as a people have allowed into our society, and the collective responsibility we share in feeding the monster until it goes out of control. We elected and tolerated poor leaders. We abandoned many of the values of our pre-colonial culture for those of a Church whose purpose in the country for a very long time had been subjugation and control. We, for our own ambitions, have betrayed those we called our friends for our own selfish wants and needs, and a lot of the time simply because we hate seeing other people succeed.

Still history is history, and we wouldn't be where we are without it, good and bad, but there is something about living through that pain together as RPG players and Filipinos that feels cathartic. To openly oppose and speak truth into the ears of those who oppress us. The subjugation of the demon horse is never the catharsis of the scenario most of the time, but the punishing of the wicked ones who have plagued our country since as far as we can remember. Wrath of the Tikbalang is El Filibusterismo, but this time Isagani doesn't steal the lamp. It is a power fantasy that makes us feel like we have the power to fight back against our oppressors... and we do... the only reason they keep having to replace them with others is because we keep taking them down. There is a collective desire among so many of us that one day, we will be strong enough to drive them away for good and make it so that they never come back, but until then, games like this will exist so we can all take comfort in our collective pain.

If I could describe Wrath of the Tikbalang in a single word, it would be this: Hugot.

(I'm aware there's a popular tabletop game called Hugot. I'm friends with the designer. The fact that this is a thing only proves my point.)

On top of everything, that pain is crystalized in death, the game system's main theme. It is the final cry into the void as the players share in their frustration. I remember the communist rebel who gave his life to expose a conspiracy and put a greedy businessman behind bars, the journalist who died in the arms of their child, urging them to live on in a world that hopefully had been made better by their sacrifice, the little girl who was so pointlessly shot and killed, caught in the crossfire of a conflict they had nothing to do with, and even last night's scenario where a young Spaniard dies for the revolution, bleeding out to the final stanzas of Mi Ultimo Adios.

Wrath brings people together by reminding them of what it's like sometimes to live in this country. We are angry. We are tired. We are devastated... but we are never alone.