Extruded Fantasy Fiction

I expect others have pointed out that Dungeons & Dragons has gone from explicitly drawing on external references - from history, legend, and classic fantasy fiction - to self-reference, with decades of setting material to draw upon, including novels. Whether this is a good thing depends on whether you want your RPG to be a game for playing *fantasy adventures*, or whether you want it to be a method of playing *Dungeons & Dragons*. Of course, even the earliest, loosest editions had assumptions baked into the system, but these assumptions have accumulated to the point that "Dungeons & Dragons" is a thing of its own. Of course, as THE THING, as the incredible mass that bends the very space-time of roleplaying, there are many other 'things' that exist in close orbit.

But all that is neither here nor there, because what I wanted to talk about are a few of the novels that are published to support roleplaying games.  

For a long time the only Dungeons & Dragons novel that I had read was the Dragonlance book Test of the Twins. I would have read this in my relatively early teens, and I remember thinking that it wasn't too bad. While I'm sure my tastes have grown more discerning, I don't need all my fantasy to be - or aspire to be - *literature*, though I do increasingly ask myself why I am reading that novel when all those classics sit unread on my shelf (or on my wishlists), but I'll still choose some fun 'genre' fiction; not all reading is for self-improvement. So yes, sometimes I do simply want to read something that more or less conforms to the staples of fantasy as codified in the games that I have played.

A few years ago I did try The Legend of Huma, another Dragonlance novel, as was recommended to me on some forum or another. I didn't take to it and left it unfinished, but I didn't think it actually bad. But several months ago I spotted on a charity book stand a book the content of which I had wondered about - imagined even - for over thirty years; RA Salvatore's The Crystal Shard.

Of course I dropped a quid in the collection and picked up it. What a find! The book advertised endlessly in Dragon Magazine, and in the American comics that I bought. The book that introduced Drizzt Do'Urden to fantasy fiction, creating a cool, not-evil Dark Elf archetype that would find its way back from Salvatore's novels to being referenced in Dungeons & Dragons core rulebooks. Where once you were invited to understand character classes in terms of, say, Beowulf, the new touchstones recommended to readers are the likes of Drizzt.   

I had high hopes, expecting extruded fantasy fiction of the superior kind. Surely so, given the lasting influence of-

No!

No, I am afraid that The Crystal Shard is not a good book, not a good book at all. I have got lots of by now long forgotten fantasy novels from the 1980s and 1990s that are not particularly original, that could easily be "Dungeons & Dragons" fiction with a few edits, and The Crystal Shard is bad even by those standards. It is juvenile, and by that I don't mean written for kids - as no doubt it was, despite the very rapey evil wizard - but in its construction; if you showed me an extract and told me is was by a bright GCSE pupil I would believe you.

But I haven't learned my lesson, as here is what I found on the charity book stand last week. 

By all accounts it is a bad novel even according to the judgement of those who read Dungeons & Dragons novels. I'll probably not get round to reading it - I am currently reading The Complete Lyonesse, close to finishing Suldrun's Garden - so if anyone wants Master Wolf, or The Crystal Shard, let me know.    

It seems an obvious point to make; that the best novels to read (to *consume*? ugh!) to steep your imagination in fantastical images, situations, characters, locations, plots, etc. to help you run a Dungeons & Dragons game are more often than *not* Dungeons & Dragons novels. Now, the same is true of Warhammer, even though Warhammer (Fantasy and 40k) has employed experienced authors and has published some books that can stand apart from their association with the games (and 'IP', again ugh!), but as time has gone on and Warhammer has, like Dungeons & Dragons, come to draw more on its own extruded fiction than its original influences, from Moorcock to Herbert to 2000AD. For the worse, I'd say.

I'll get around to highlighting some of my favourite Warhammer fantasy novels that are not Warhammer fantasy novels soon. 

Can YOU climb?

Can you climb walls? I can. Can you scale sheer surfaces without rope and gear? Err...

When I run D&D (and clones thereof) I always try to remind myself that the Thief 'skill' percentages are so low because they are not, in fact, skills. Anyone can climb or hide, and any competent locksmith can open a normal lock. The *proper* (ahem!) interpretation of Thief 'skills' is that they are preternatural abilities, beyond that possessed by ordinary humans (and beyond that of even the extraordinary people with classes and levels with whom they adventure).

This, though, takes some overlooking of what the rulebooks actually say. The rulesbooks often describe most of these abilities in utterly mundane ways, and in the case of the Thief's 'climb' skill/ability I had been dimly aware that, at some point, even the name was mundan-ised, from a version that refers to scaling 'sheer' surfaces to one that merely refers to climbing walls. Bah! I thought I'd check through the versions of TSR D&D that I own to see what each edition has to say. 

Moldvay Basic. Promisingly, the Thieves' Abilities table has 'Climb Sheer Surfaces'. Unfortunately, the accompanying text has the ability listed as 'Climb Steep Surfaces'. The description of the ability does, however, lack the kind of specificity that prevents the ability being interpreted in a preternatural way. (Moldvay B88)

Mentzer Basic (and the Rules Cyclopedia) boils down the ability into the boring and not at all preternatural 'Climb Walls', and the text is unhelpfully specific, saying that this ability "applies to any steep surfaces, such as sheer cliffs, walls, and so forth." (Mentzer B44)

Note: Both Mentzer and Moldvay promisingly describe what we commonly call Thief 'skills' as 'special abilities', which is at least suggestive of these chances being something different, over and above what a mundane person ought be able to do.

AD&D1e has the ability - in the 'Thief Function' (ack!) - table as 'Climb Walls'. The description is utterly mundane. Also, in an amusing Gygaxianism, at high levels, this 'function' is not adjudicated by way of a normal percentile roll. After 10th level, the base chance to 'climb walls' increases beyond 99% by a tenth of a percent each level. Talk about marginal gains! The player (or DM) therefore needs to roll a D100.0 - three ten sided dice. My goodness, AD&D1e is one of the least lovely editions of the game. (PHB1e 28)

AD&D2e might have 'reduced' the special abilities to 'skills'. It might have 'Climb Walls' rather than Climb Sheer Surfaces. But by Crom it gets the description right! "Although everyone can climb rocky cliffs and steep slopes, the thief is far superior to others in this ability. Not only does he have a better climbing percentage than other characters, he can also climb most surfaces without tools, ropes, or devices. Only the thief can climb smooth and very smooth surfaces without climbing gear."(PHB2e 40)

I had expected to find that earlier editions of the game were open to a more preternatural interpretation of the Thief's climbing ability, and had expected that, at some point (under the influence of skill-based RPGs) that this would become mundan-ised as a general climbing ability, effectively disallowing other characters from climbing. What I didn't expect to find was that AD&D2e (which I already have quite a soft spot for) is the only edition of those that in which the Thief Special Ability/Function/Skill is expressly something above and beyond that possible for other characters.

  

Old School vs Old School Revival?

Moving house (which has turned into a very drawn out process) has knocked my gaming temporarily, but has prompted me to think about the value I place on different aspects of my collection. What do I value? What would I hate to lose?

Sitting in my brother's house, a half-way house, I only have a couple of boxes of books with me; a box of AD&D books -

- and my relatively recent Lulu/DriveThru books -

And I realise that I prefer the OSR to the OS, despite my sentimental connection with the originals. And this lot doesn't in include my copies of Kevin Crawford's stuff, or my Lamentations of the Flame Princess adventures, etc. I realised that I could imagine selling my collection of TSR-era D&D materials - yes, even my Gazetteer collections - and play only using the vibrant, forward-looking products of the OSR without my gaming skipping a beat. My heart might ache to lose the material that reminds me of the time when I first found D&D, but some of those books in that box are in danger of turning into memorabilia rather than resources.

America and D&D

I've been busy. I've been away this summer in the USA. The first trip was to Phoenix, the second to South Florida. And I can honestly say that I now 'get' D&D just a little more. 

I was amused by the old Games Workshop/Citadel ads in Dragon, which used to tell the Americans that they ought to buy their games from people with 'real' history. It chimed with my own prejudices. I still chuckle with a sense of wrongheaded superiority at the fact that the terraced house that I lived in (until this summer, a housemove has also put a dent on my blogging) was about 130 years old. Which isn't that old for a house in the UK, and certainly every other house in the area was about that old, yet in parts of the USA it'd probably have a plaque from the local historical society. And my taste in game worlds does tend to be very European. Very British, even. Legend, the Warhammer World, (even Titan to some degree), all seem to capture a greater sense of historical 'place' than the Forgotten Realms, say.

But it doesn't matter. Unless we're playing a pseudo-historical game, in which of course, it does. But D&D isn't always pseudo-historical, and is (I think) at its best when it is not, despite the pretensions of the AD&D1e DMG. It is an American game.  

Yes, yes. I have long been aware of the 'borderlands' theme of American history. A history of explorers, of pioneers, of the 'civilizing' mission (winning the West) which was conducted peicemeal as much as imperial. And, of course, the American West provides us with some archetypal examples of murder-hobos. So, yes, a ripe historical analogue for D&D PCs, if we can get past the racism and genocide. But hey, just chuck in Orcs and we can all sleep easily, no?

But I didn't fly over Arizona and find myself struck by the history. No. At least not directly. No, I flew over the desert and found myself struck by the quite awe-inspiring scale that pervades the USA. The USA - and the Americas in general - has a scale about it that is quite unlike that of Europe, and Britain especially. I don't just mean its continental vastness, nor the buildings, people, or even the military-industrial-prison complex. As I flew into Phoenix I passed over canyon-laced desert that resembled, to European eyes, the landscape of an alien planet. I didn't need to know much history to immediately wonder what the first Europeans had thought as they crossed this landscape with their pack-mules laden with equipment, accompanied by their hirelings. And the heat! The heat! It was so hot that I remarked that if it is ever that hot in Wales then your house is on fire.

In Florida there was a different kind of heat. A wet, swampy, (once) malarial heat, in a flat marshy landscape prowled by man-eating alligators. To get some breeze you get to the coast, and escape down a chain of islands a hundred miles long tipped by a wrecker 'city' - the richest per capita in the USA at one point - precariously clinging to an island made up of the skeletons of weird sea creatures, just waiting to be swept away by hurricanes (or pirates).

And I've never seen the Great Plains, the Rockies, the forested, often frozen north, the Great Lakes, etc. 

Something twigged in my brain on these trips, as this wasn't a medieval England of innumerable villages, each a day's walk from the other, a landscape tamed and human-ized, however ancient. This is a landscape of awe-inspiring scale, and to a European, strangeness. A landscape of isolated settlements, both those of Native Americans and European Pioneers. A land of radical heterogeneity - of religion and ethnicity, as well as environment and economy -  with adventurers building quasi-states in the borderlands. I imagined the amount of planning and calculated risk taking required to explore this new world. Wilderness expeditions, full of strange landscapes, a hostile environment, and encounters with peoples and animals that could roll either way, depending on their Reaction.

Yeah, I've only been playing D&D for about 30 years. I spend about three weeks in the Americas and now I get it a bit more.   

1e Big News!

Well, I have to say that I didn't expect that. An e-mail arrived literally minutes ago announcing that the AD&D1e Players Handbook is now available at DriveThru RPG. I thought there was some (incomprehensible) corporate strategy going on with regard to the unavailability of the AD&D rulebooks, but I have to say I have been impressed by WotC/Hasbro's commitment to making TSR D&D/s available.

We are living in a Golden Age!

More on the Reaction Roll

I've been clear that the Reaction Roll is one of most valuable bits of Classic D&D. I'm not that fussed about how you resolve combat, tasks, character advancement etc., but I do think that having a simple means of freeing the DM from determining NPC reactions is something that every game could benefit from.

While browsing the other day I found this post, from late last year, by Alex Chalk of To Distant Lands, in which he breaks down the procedure for determining reactions into the Reaction Roll, a consideration of Interests, and modifiers for Disposition.

I need to get myself my own header. Well, in fact, my blogs need a total design overhaul.

Rather than repeat his work, you should check it out HERE. It is very likely to make it onto my GM summary sheets.

The Inhumanity of Law (Awkward Treasure #2)

The PCs come into possession of a fantastic painting, titled the Inhumanity of Law. 5ft tall and 9ft wide, the painting depicts three scenes from the rise of Laziano as the capital of the Second Empire of Man. The first scene depicts the assassination of Julen, a successful general who named himself Tyrant. Julen drew on popular support from ordinary soldiers and other commoners, but his reforms alienated the oligarchs and denied them their legal rights. The oligarchy included his own family, and he was stabbed to death in public by his mother, his brother, and his sister. The second scene is depicts the increasingly gruesome and imaginative ways in which the oligarchy attempted to eliminate the Julenian factions and cow the people of Laziano. The final scene is truly nightmarish, with the dead walking the streets of Laziano as servants of the oligarchs. From this ordered necropolis the Second Empire of Man expanded across the known world.

The painting is worth a fortune, painted by Hybok the Cynic over two hundred years after the barbarians sacked Laziono and killed the Octatus Octatus, the Demon of Law who had assumed the role of Emperor. It is such an evocative painting that is exerts a malign influence on all those within 30ft of the painting. Even if it cannot be seen, its message can be felt. And its message is: Law is inhuman. Rules, explicit or tacit, cannot be trusted. Even the social contract between you and your neighbour is to be doubted. The PCs will feel this message, and their assessment of NPCs will be coloured by the presence of the painting.

In game terms, the presence of the painting triggers a Loyalty or Reaction Roll in all NPCs, and modifies all 2d6 Reaction Rolls be -2. The (2-12) range of possible NPC reactions will not get worse in the presence of the painting – i.e., if the Referee has determined that a Reaction Roll of a 2 would ordinarily result in a particular merchant attempting to cheat the PCs, when in the presence of the painting he won’t do anything more hostile than that on a roll of 2-4. Of course, as the merchant is more likely to cheat the PCs, the Players are more likely to react, and so begins a downward spiral.

And, of course, low Reaction Rolls will often prompt more hostile action than a bit of harmless swindling, and the players will have to negotiate with the buyer of the painting as the minds of everyone present thrum with the message: Do not trust this deal or the oaths sworn.   

[In a way, this ‘treasure’ was inspired by Picasso’s Guernica, as every time I see it I am horrified that we have seemingly normalised aerial bombardment as a clean, humane form of warfare. But arguments about that aren’t for here.]    

Cheap at twice the price!

I recently got a big order from Lulu. Taking advantage of their 30% off coupon, I got the Labyrinth Lord Advanced Edition Companion, White Box and Core Swords and Wizardry, a collection of Backswords & Bucklers books, four books by Richard LeBlanc (including his D30 books), and that dizzying expression of what a D&D campaign can be - Yoon-Suin.

All of these combined I got for less than the price of some of the big, commercial RPG books. I have to keep reminding myself of that when I am suffering a bout of buyer's remorse. Which isn't that often, as these are exactly the kind of books that will get used at the table.

(I did feel a bit guilty showing them off as 'rpg porn' on Google+. I half felt a bit like I'd just pasted a picture of my wang and invited everyone to admire, and half like I was one of the spoilt Super Sweet Sixteen 'princesses' presenting conspicuous consumption as some kind of virtue.)

BUT my Lulu haul wasn't the real bargain. No. The real bargain was James Raggi making the Lamentations of the Flame Princess (LotFP) 'Grindhouse Edition' Referee Book available as a free pdf. The full art version, no less, so be careful where you read this on your tablet, or where you print this out. No-one reading this needs telling that LotFP is a very elegant B/X derivative, which by a couple of small changes produces a very different feeling game. Niche protection for Fighters, Turn Undead as a spell for Clerics, no flashy 'boom' spells of the Magic-Users, and a Thief (erm, Specialist) that really works. Good race-as-class Elves, Dwarfs, and Halflings, a lovely encumbrance system and a nice clean set of rules for exploration and adventure. None of it radically different to B/X, just different enough that a game run using LotFP will have a different flavour. As well as Raggi's Early Modern 'Real' Earth 'setting' (which would, of course, also make LotFP a good match for a Warhammerish game), I've long thought that this particular set of rules would make for a good OSR Swords & Sorcery game, a fine competitor for Crypts & Things and Astonishing Swordsmen & Sorcerers of Hyberborea. Lower magic than 'traditional' OSR games, a Fighter who really fights, Clerics that can't simply blast their way through the undead, etc. If only the books weren't full of fantastic, if not-safe-for-work, art that reinforces the idea that this is a game for the Early Modern period.   Sounds good, eh? Well, you get none of that in the Referee's Book.

[Insert body-horror image that stretches the bounds of decency here!]

Whatever image you have imagined, it is probably also a graphic representation of your deepest sexual nightmare. 

No, what you get in the Referee's Book is James Raggi's advice on how to run LotFP. Well, no, it is James Raggi's advice on running any OSR game (applicable, most likely, to any traditional RPG) with a 'weird', indeed horrific, tone. It has advice on designing adventures, running campaigns, and on designing NPCs, Monsters and Magic Items. You really can't lose, because James is a good writer with keen insights on RPGs, and so even if you disagree with him, reading the Referee's Book will help crystalise your own ideas on what is important in an RPG.

If you do want those elegant rules that I briefly sketched then you need the Rules and Magic Book, which is available as free-no-art or pay-full-art versions. Say, couldn't I paste my own Swords & Sorcery pictures into the free-no-art version...?

 

Fear of Disruption - Guilty!

I was reading through The Doom-Cave of the Crystal-Headed Children, and in the introduction Raggi writes:

"This year we’ve got a dungeon that’ll work as a totally mental one-shot just as well as a completely disruptive part of an ongoing campaign. And if you’re not wanting disruptive, then what’s the point? “Oh let’s have an adventure that doesn’t look like it’ll rock the boat, I’m sure that’ll have a better chance of getting the players excited and of being something we all remember later on with fondness.” Pffft. You want carefully considered, scientifically tested, carefully balanced adventures that are constructed to have beginnings, middles, and ends, all of which can be slotted into your pre-plotted campaign without changing it? I call those types of adventures ‘fillers’ and once a regular progression of events becomes evident, once the outcomes of an adventure are discovered and known, that adventure becomes boring, and I’d never publish what I’d come to think of as boring."

I'm guilty. All GMs probably are, and a great many adventure designers are too - but that can be seen as necessity, they are writing material for campaigns unknown. But I hope I remember this passage more often than I forget it, and make sure that, as a GM, I'm not afraid of an adventure being 'disruptive' - and that I keep clear in my mind that if the campaign is more or less unchanged after the PCs have had an adventure then yes, Raggi is right; what's the point?

You don't prefer the Status Quo, do you?

Madame Desadalie’s House of Wax - Skeleton Encounter #6

I finally get round to getting a sixth 'interesting' Skeleton encounter finished - something other than "Tomb, Skeletons (6), 200GP". This goes with:

#1 Archaeologists
#2 The Cursed Holmgang
#3 A Travelling Show
#4 The Hanging Garden
#5 The Foaming Shadow

#6 Madame Desadalie’s House of Wax

At the edge of the Scholars’ District, where rents are cheap and adventurous students slum it, mixing with artists (piss-, con-, and avant garde), poets, musicians, and other social and political dissidents, there is Madame Desadalie’s House of Wax. A salon, favoured by intellectuals with a taste for luxury, the lounge is opulently furnished. Oppressively so. The walls are lined with extravagantly patterned fabrics, lush potted plants imported from southern jungles loom over the couches on which guests recline, and elaborate, slowly turning, cut-glass lamps create a disorientating flicker of light. And then there are the waxworks.     

Arrayed around the room are six, life-size wax figures. These are sculpted into a likeness of the great and good of Byzantia, particularly those despised as oppressive or vulgar. Prince Geffri, a gambler with bad debts as well as a womaniser and sadist. Guildmaster Hoffenhaus, reputed embezzler. Countess Katterine, rumoured to have unnatural… appetites. Bjorn the Black, public executioner. Chancellor Illantine, whose taxmen are feared even more than the secret police. And the Sage Vorinus, whose pithy, but on reflection empty, aphorisms are treated as the height of leaning by the ‘common’ people. These waxworks are uncanny likenesses of their subjects – uncanny being the word. Their eyes sockets are empty hollows, and their faces are locked in inane grins. They crouch, on all fours, serving as tables for the guests. Hidden within these dummies are animated SKELETONS under the control of Madame Desadalie.

SKELETONS (6) = AC: Special, HD: 1, HP: 6, MV: 60’/20’, ATT: 1 short sword, DAM: 1d6, SV: F1, MR: 12, AL: C, XP 13

These Skeletons are a more difficult proposition in a fight than usual; their wax ‘shell’ protects them from damage. The force of bludgeoning weapons is absorbed, and slashing weapons cut through layers of wax before biting bone. In the first round of combat, these Skeletons have an AC of 0. On each round of combat their AC worsens by 1 as the wax cracks and begins to fall away from their bones, until, on the eighth round of combat their AC reaches 7. If the Skeletons are attacked with fire, or similar, double or even triple the rate at which AC worsens.

Why would the PCs encounter these Skeletons? Madame Desadalie, an attractive, if overly made-up middle-aged woman (who, it must be said, can resembles a waxwork herself) is widely suspected of harbouring agitators and even outright rebels. This is true, and the PCs might be sent on a mission to capture a fugitive or steal incriminating documents. Or they might be interested in a bit of freelance burglary – the party could recover 10d100GPs of bulky objets d’art on a successful raid. Of course, PCs are a rebellious bunch themselves, and may find themselves more directly involved in the ‘occult’ politics of Byzantia. Who supplies Madame Desadalie, no necromancer herself, with her wax bodyguards?

Okay, this one doesn't fit on a 4"x6" index card - and even at this length it doesn't include any real details about Madame Desadalie, her connections, etc. It is about 100 words too long. The index card conceit is a good discipline all the same - and very useful at the table - and I'll try to keep to it as much as possible. 

 

Typology of DMs?

I've been working my way through the 5e DMG over the past couple of days. I like what I see. Lots of random tables - including a carousing table! Reasonable advice, even if sometimes too much stress is put on a D&D adventure being like a 'story', which might set a DM's expectations such that there are heightened temptations to railroad and fudge. But, I repeat, despite that language, which is difficult to avoid, the advice is reasonable. Certainly much better than the 2e Campaign Sourcebook and Catacomb Guide - the first supplement to the 2e DMG, which itself was much inferior to the 5e version - which sometimes seems to be nothing but advice on effective railroading. Along with some sweet isometric maps...

But to go back to my last post, raising the subject of the DM's 'fun', the 5e DMG has a breakdown of different player types. I've seen this kind of stuff in quite a few places now. It's all perfectly sensible advice. The DM is advised to cater for the different player types in his or her group. The player types are described in a non-judgmental way, so a player wanting a hack and slash game is not described as inferior to a player seeking immersive roleplay. But what I want to know is, has anyone done something similar for DMs? A typology of DMs? On that *doesn't* read as a list of 'the ways in which your DM is shitty', but as a mirror image of the typology of players; 'these are the types of DMs that exist, and if you are going to be a good player at the table you will have to adapt your play to their DMing style'?

On the DM's fun

One thing that is often missing from discussions of running RPGs is that the DM needs to be having 'fun'. I put the word fun in quotes as what a DM (or a player for that matter) gets out of the game doesn't need to be the kind of enjoyment that produces euphoric, face-stretching grins. But 'fun' will do for now. There are plenty of discussions that argue that the DM is responsible for the players' fun. The role of the DM is likened to that of an entertainer, a scriptwriter, artist, actor etc. Fewer argue that the players have a reciprocal responsibility, and those that do often frame is as a responsibility to the group as a whole and not a special responsibility to the DM. 

"Hey, I'm playing this game too. I do all the work for this game. I'm the only one who knows the rules. I'm the one who prepares the encounters and locations. I'm the only one here who doesn't get to enjoy the vicarious high of victory (or the thrill of failure) through the adventures of my personal avatar. I'm the one who can't take a back seat for a few minutes (or a whole evening) and let the other players pick up the slack!"

Hah.

C'est la vie.

Yet the DM is, unlike a scriptwriter (or what have you), part of the group of people meant to be deriving pleasure from the game. DMs are not the producers with the players the audience. DMs are playing the game, we are audience member number one. The DM is the most important participant. Because of the vast difference in required investment (time, energy, and, given who buys most RPG books and other paraphernalia, financial resources) between players and DMs, that the game satisfies the DM is the number one requirement of a good game. Sure, the players' fun is important, but a player can turn up unprepared, roll a few dice, engage in a bit of chit chat and still have had a minimally entertaining evening. The DM having fun is in players' self-interest - it produces better games, with more engaged and committed DMs.

This was going to be a post about Molvay and Mentzer's take on Morale, NPC/Monster Reactions, Random Encounters and Treasure Tables, and how they are all part of my fun as a DM. Thinking about those procedures got me thinking about the way that rules like that have slipped out of fashion. 

"I know what the monsters will do, how they will react, when they will flee, and I will place treasure appropriate for my group. I am a competent DM."

Sure, but then it is easy for part of my fun to become invested in certain outcomes. If I have placed a particular magical treasure as I think it appropriate for the PCs to find it, I have become invested in this as an outcome. If I leave it to myself to decide when the monsters will flee, it is easy for me to become invested in a certain outcome, and then I believe that it is only a short slip to dishonest encounters in which, for example, the indeterminate number of wolves are programmed flee after causing 'x' amount of damage to the party. And so on. 

Yes, as a DM I make decisions about what happens in the game world, about what exists and how those things behave. Of course I do. And I derive a certain amount of fun from that. But once I am at the table I like to play, I like to be surprised by things. I don't want to know in advance how every Monster or NPC will react to the PCs. Perhaps those Elves that are (I have decided) predisposed to help the PCs react badly (based on a Reaction Roll) to the PCs. Arrogant Elves. Perhaps the dice fall differently when the PCs encounter the (I have decided) ordinarily hostile Goblins. So... the Goblins are impressed by the PCs menacing demeanour, and seek to make alliance. Without a Reaction Roll only the most egregious PC behaviour would derail the reaction in which I have invested. But here? Here the PCs actions have meaning because I don't know how things will turn out, only probabilities which are affected by the actions declared by the players. Great! The game becomes one of exploration for me, too! I get to explore the fantasy world that I have created and find new things out through play.

The Foaming Shadow - Skeleton Encounter #5

Finally, here's a fifth skeleton encounter that fits on two sides of an index card, to follow the previous:

#1 Archaeologists

#2 The Cursed Holmgang

#3 A Travelling Show

#4 The Hanging Garden

#5 The Foaming Shadow

As the PCs travel by ship they or their crew notice that a shadow under the surface of the water, is tracking them. The crew speculate that this is a whale, or a giant shark, or some chimeric sea monster. Those observing closely will see that the surface of the water is broken by roiling bubbles. At least one old sea dog will surely know the following legend... they did hire an experienced crew, didn’t they?

The PCs’ ship is being pursued by a sunken ship crewed by the undead. The ship was once the Basilisk, captained by the notorious pirate Spittlebeard. Notoriety can be a dangerous thing, and the city states of the coast commissioned a fleet to hunt the pirate. The Basilisk was driven into a deep inlet. The fleet set her ablaze, their catapults launching jars of flaming oil. The legend goes that not a single pirate attempted to escape the flames. The Basilisk with her crew, and all her treasure. This encounter can be used to provide a hook for an underwater adventure to recover the lost treasure of Spittlebeard, but none is carried on the wreck of the Basilisk.     

The PCs can attempt to flee the shadow under the water (see Expert p44). Treat the Basilisk as a LONGSHIP. If the PCs fail to escape, the Basilisk will surface – within grappling range – in a great burst of steam. 50 SKELETONS swing and climb across, and, when close enough, leap over the gunwales with daggers held in bony jaws. The Basilisk itself is but a skeleton of a ship, merely charred ribs, keel, stern and bow (with Basilisk figurehead). The ship, and the SKELETONS, are wreathed in barely visible hell-flame.   

SPITTLEBEARD= AC: 5, HD: 5, HP: 30, MV: 60’/20’, ATT: 2 Cutlass +2, DAM: 1d8+2/1d8+2, SV: F5, MR: 9, AL: C, XP: 300

These Skeletons are possessed by the lingering personality of SPITTLEBEARD, who has made a pact with a Great Evil in order to continue an unlife of plunder. Dressed in tattered finery, he can speak and reason, but is quite mad, having just two desires, to collect gold, silver and gems, and to kill while doing so. PCs may be able to exploit either of these desires, and SPITTLEBEARD will flee (MR: 9) if the battle looks like it will fulfil neither desire. SPITTLEBEARD carries a map to his underwater lair – presumably a place of interest to a Great Evil – and fights with a CUTLASS +2.

Everything is Uncertain, Including Death (and Taxes)

“Quick, we must retreat!”

“Why? You look absolutely fine to me.”

“Yes, but the next the next sword blow will surely kill me.”

Or

“Have no fear, I will leap into the fray and hold them off, for I am fresh, so even if they all strike me I shall remain standing.”

Such are the caricatures of the abstraction of HP; combatants can take HP ‘damage’ without risk until they’re right down to the little numbers. These caricatures, and the implicit criticism, have some merit. Players do know that the Orc with a handaxe (1d6 damage) will not be able to kill their 8HP Fighter on this round. And they do know that their 6^th Level Fighter, whittled down to 3HP, is now in serious trouble, even if we can see no difference in his physical capabilities. 

Or rather, we think we can see no difference in his physical capabilities. The 5e Basic pdf says "The loss of hit points has no effect on a creature's capabilities until the creature drops to 0 hit points" (v0.2 p75). Of course I know why the rule book says this: we don't apply penalties to characters and creatures that have taken HP damage. But it is language like hinders and 'proper' understanding of the abstraction of HP and D&D combat - though as I note below the abstraction of HP is terminally undermined in newer editions. When the abstraction is understood, we can see that of course a loss of hit points does have an effect on a character or creature's capabilities. A PC with 3HP has far less ‘fighting ability’ than one with 30HP, even if their AC and THAC0 or BAB remain unchanged. Simply put, the 3HP Fighter will survive fewer rounds of combat than the 30HP.

But anyway, it is often difficult to grasp such abstraction, and the 'certainties' (see above) that it produces can sit uneasily with players and DMs. We might intellectually understand the abstract nature of D&D combat, but we often - instinctively - fall into making sense of these numbers (HD, HP, AC, ‘to hit’ rolls, etc.) as if they had a one-to-one correspondence with world.

So, let’s make things a little more uncertain, shall we?

Carcosa has PCs roll their HP at every encounter. You also have to roll to see what type of HD you have! Fun for a diversion, but the certainties in the two 'examples' above are not mitigated. Why not have the PCs roll their HD every time they are 'hit'?

Here’s how it would work:

Characters and creatures start with 0 'hit points' (HP). They have not yet been 'hit'. When a character or creature is 'hit', damage is rolled as normal, and this many hit points are added to their HP, which accumulate. A character or creature rolls their HD every time it adds points to their HP. So that 6^th Level Fighter would roll 6d8 (assuming no modifiers from CON), giving him somewhere between 6 and 48HP. It wouldn’t be quite as 'swingy' as that might look as the multiple dice produce a pronounced bell curve. If the total rolled is greater than the accumulated HP of damage, the character or creature can fight on. If the number roll is equal to or less than the accumulated HP, the character or creature is either dead or has suffered a serious wound.

Naturally, I need a good critical hit chart to generate the wounds and determine the chance of death. I am tempted by the extended critical hit charts from WHRP1e (found in the Character Pack, maybe one of the Apocrypha books) which have different charts for all kinds of weapons and sources of damage. ACKS’ ‘mortal wounds’ table might also be a suitable base. While I would want the procedure to be relatively simple, I'd also have to work out a simple set of modifiers to rolls on this chart. Presumably these would involve level, CON modifier, and perhaps the difference between accumulated HP and the last rolled HD total. And death? This would either be an automatic result on the far reaches of the chart, a consequence of a wound that is not treated or bound in time, or perhaps, to keep things simple, a Saving Throw (vs Death). For simplicities sake, most monsters and NPCs might die as soon as the HD roll is not greater than accumulated HP - this is a system about PCs, after all.

Or maybe the 'dice-drop' table I suggested ages ago... 

Whatever table I eventually use I've a feeling that it will have to be kind to the PCs. Or, at least, as kind as a critical hit/serious wound table can be. PCs are going to be more vulnerable using these rules. While 1st Level PCs will get killed/wounded by a single blow in this system and the traditional one, the real effect will be on PCs with around 3 or 4 HD. In the traditional system there is no chance that the first sword blow will drop them (especially with the kind of house rules that boost HP - max HP at 1st Level, re-rolling 1s, re-rolling all dice at each level, etc.), in this system some of those formerly 'insulated' PCs are going to fall in the first round of combat. But then, so are some of the monsters in the same HD range, which brings a much wider range of the bestiary into play much earlier on... along with larger treasures and greater XP rewards. Swings and roundabouts, eh?

But why do this?

Well, it gives me an excuse to use a critical hit chart. And do I love me a good critical hit chart. But it also means that even PCs (and monsters) of moderate to high level/HD are in an uncertain amount of danger once the daggers, axes, and swords are drawn. The cartoon criticism of D&D's accumulating HP is disarmed. Sure, higher level characters are far more likely to be able to fight for longer than low or zero level characters, but there will rarely be the guarantee that the next swipe of a sword will not do for them.

But more importantly than that, much more, it allows me to incorporate an aspect of ‘newer’ D&Ds from which I have always recoiled – easy HP recovery (or easy HP reduction, given what HP 'mean' in this system). As I've said, the abstraction of HP and D&D combat is often difficult to maintain in the imaginations of the DM and players. And players and DMs really do need to buy the abstract nature of HP and D&D combat in order to understand how the game effect of low HP = reduced overall fighting ability = a ‘wounded’ state. But for this abstraction to work, HP ‘healing’ has to be slow and/or difficult. If a PC can easily replenish their all HP, say with a ‘long rest’, the HP abstraction is terminally undermined. If a good night's sleep allows a PC to recover all their lost HP, then low HP very definitely does not = wounded, not even as an abstraction.

But at the same time I will concede that rapid HP recovery can improve some aspects of the experience of play. If PCs can recover their HP by taking a rest, swigging some brandy (see Crypts & Things), or hearing a rousing speech, then (of course) they can get a lot more adventuring done, especially during the first few levels of play. And these early levels are the key to a sustained campaign. So I'll be experimenting with this system in the next games that I run.

As a final point, easy HP recovery and no ‘real’ wounds means that PCs can fight all day, every day. This puts them on the 5e track – which given the 'XP per adventuring day per level' table in the DMG pdf I can safely caricature this as 'How to Hit Name Level in 30 Days, or Your Money Back!' I know that this meant to make players feel 'epic', but I can't imagine feeling less 'epic' than having my character, starting at 1st Level, is set to become a mighty lord in a matter of mere weeks of game time.