Who Needs a Dragon?

No animal is half so vile as Crockywock the Crocodile...

A long time ago I read a news story which reported that a drunk Australian had tried to ride a 5m long crocodile weighing 800kg. He survived, if he was a little chewed. That prompted me to set about searching the internet for pictures to put that croc into context.

And, my... 

Imagine trying to take one of these on with a sword and shield while knee deep in swamp water?

Bring hirelings!

In classic D&D (Mentzer Expert, absolutely my favourite D&D book), a Normal Crocodile is a 2HD creature, averaging at 9HP, doing 1-8 damage per bite. A Large Crocodile, which I guess encompasses the maximum size we find in the real world, is a 6HD creature, averaging at 27HP, doing 2-16 damage per bite. There is also a Giant Crocodile of explicitly prehistoric proportions, but that is beyond what we're talking about here.

A D&D Fighter, remember, will have on average slightly more HP than a monster of equivalent HD to his level - he'll likely have a bonus from Constitution, some kind of minimum HP house rule, or outright fudged dice!

In Magic World (which takes its bestiary from the RuneQuest Monsters book for the third edition of the game, rogue Fatigue Points and all!), the Small Crocodile has 23HP and does 1D10+2D6 damage per bite, while a Large Crocodile has 40HP and does 1D10+5D6 damage per bite.

A Magic World warrior will have perhaps 15HP... full stop.

Big beasts are more frightening in d100 games. But then the play-style in D&D ought be at least a little different from BRP-derived games - certainly where combat is concerned. I was going to write a long post comparing chances to hit, calculating average damage by round, and then I realised that I would end up doing something as boring as the old Monstermark articles in White Dwarf!

So I will short cut all that. I like games in which big beasts are dangerous. But big beasts in D&D *are* dangerous - though I often have to remind myself of the fundamentally abstract nature of D&D combat (and I always need to hold in check my desire for realism and granularity in D&D combat) which means that comparisons with blow-by-blow systems are not always straightforward. But for all the Crockywoks in your game, FANTASY gaming needs DRAGONS. While we shouldn't forget the terrors of 'ordinary' animals (though in a world created, deliberately, by supernatural beings, even ordinary creatures are the product of a god's violent imagination), let's have some bright, primary-coloured fantasy to mix with our realistic shades of  green and brown.

Wham-bang, thank you Mampang! [part two]

Yo, ho, ho, me trumps!

I've been spending a little too much time playing Assassin's Creed: Black Flag. I could be reading good fiction, or painting miniatures, or... Or anything. But instead I am cruising around the Caribbean trying to collect every last sea shanty and hidden treasure chest.

But back to Mampang for the final session of the Crown of Kings campaign.

The party ended the last session captured by the Mampang Guard and brought to see Captain Cartoum. Their Adventure Ends Here. Or well, it likely ought to have done. But as we broke up the penultimate session I said to the players that they needed to think very hard about how they were going to get out of this very sticky situation. Following the between session conversations on Facebook, I was not optimistic.

BUT, many sessions ago I had allowed Ho Lee to spend Experience Points creating a new Sorcery spell. The AFF2e rulebook explicitly advises against this, but in the context of a one-off 'adventure path' I figured, 'why not?' And so Ho Lee's magical experiments had added COR to the Sorcery spell book, an analogue to GOB and YOB. Where those created GOBLINS and GIANTS from the teeth of those creatures, COR brought forth a MANTICORE. When word had reached the Archmage that Ho Lee had very publicly and effectively demonstrated this novel sorcery, he was interested in seeing the innovating wizard for himself.

And so, despite Mopsy's quite frankly hopeless plan to convince Captain Cartoum that this was all a dreadful misunderstanding - that despite killing quite some number of the Archmage's minions, disguising themselves are guards, and refusing to surrender, they were there to enter the service of Mampang - the party were not summarily executed a mere flight of stairs from their goal. No, like any good villain, the Archmage demanded that they were brought to him, and, in his genre-appropriate arrogance, dismissed the guards.

[This bypassed a number of interesting encounters, but the party were not going to have a chance to see those. It was this, or a game-ending consequence. I am very happy allowing players to run themselves into TPK. And with these players, TPKs and near-TPKs are not uncommon! But then I do not normally run a linear campaign.] 

The party were in the Archmage's library-cum-observatory with just the villain and his manservant, Farren Whyde. The Archmage offered the party the Crown of Kings, if they would tell him the secret of the COR spell. Mopsy was up for taking the crown that floated in the air before them, but saner heads prevailed and the Archmage grew frustrated. With the party hesitating, on edge, ready to attack the Archmage, there was a wet ripping noise behind them. The 'Archmage' cowered behind his desk as the body of Farren Whyde split in two to reveal a NETHERWORLD DEMON.

Boss Fight!

But Boss Fights can be boring. They are not a point in the game - most of the time - where the players are able to make any more significant, interesting choices. At this point, it is No Retreat, No Surrender! D hovered his finger over the Big Red Button - as the Demon began to whittle away the PC's STAMINA reserves the ZED spell was readied. What would it do?* But in the end some rather lucky Critical Hits from Cramer and Mopsy snicker-snacked off a couple of points of the Demon's SKILL, and the foul thing fell under the swords of the Heroes of Analand.

In the gamebook, the players could either summon the Samaritans of Schinn (the 'good birdmen', which the party bypassed - to be fair finding the good birdmen rather than the bad birdmen is a 'left or right' decision), or resurrect Farren Whyde and have him summon the birdmen. Anything else necessitates the player fights his way through the now alert Mampang Guard - an impossible task. Not wanting this adventure to play out like the end of Return of the King, I had two options, 1) present the party with wave after wave of Guards, a pointless, hopeless battle that would demand another session of play that would contain no reward and little in the way of meaningful decisions, or have the Samaritans of Schinn show up at the window of the Archmage's Tower. 

Flap, flap. 

"Squawk! Need a lift?" 

Epilogue

Deciding this would be the end of line for these adventurers, I asked each player what they planned their character's long term future to be.

Ho Lee, with the benefit of a few armfuls of the Archmage’s books and paraphernalia, secluded himself in a tower in the wilderness and delved deeply into magical secrets. He was killed many years later by a party of adventurers, who then sold his library in the book markets of Gallantria.  

Cramer, still driven by Slaang, God of Malice, decided that he would seek the leadership of the KLATTAMEN tribe of the Baddu-Bak Plains. By force of violence, Cramer became chief, but his rule was short-lived. Mistaking a hearty respect for violence for a tendency towards cruelty, Cramer abused his subjects, and was lynched after just a few months.

Mopsy, who the spirit of Khare declared to be the new Hidden Lord, was ever the good and noble(?!) knight. Conscious of his duty to his sworn lord, he returned to Analand and persuaded King Arkle to raise an army to allow him to annex Khare. As the pennants of Analand approached the walls of the Cityport of Traps, SULPHUR GHOSTS boiled from the walls, scattering the army. Mopsy was never heard of again, but legend has it that a blind beggar claiming to have once been a famous knight now lives in the slums of Khare. 

*I was set to have the ZED spell transport them to The Pit, where they would continue the battle with the Demon. If they won, I might have been tempted to run an 'Escape the Pit' campaign. If they had lost, well, at least the Demon had been banished.

Wham-bang, thank you Mampang! [part one]

And so, sometime before Christmas, we came to the end of Mopsy, Cramer, and Ho Lee’s adventures. We left them with Naggamenteh the Torturer mutilated lifeless body at their feet. Heading deeper into Mampang, the party encountered the obligatory independent trader.

I swear, there are more independent shops in the citadels of Titan’s Tyrant-Wizards than there are on the average British High Street. Ooh, there’s topical for you.

Nylock offered a variety of odds and ends for sale, and the Party quite reasonably assumed that at least some of these would prove useful in ways that are impossible to anticipate. [This is one of the legacies of the gamebooks – designed to be replayed, the reader accumulating knowledge on each attempt – that works against meaningful player choice in a tabletop RPG] Ho Lee bartered for some spell components, and Cramer bought the two candles, one apparently ordinary, the other a BLOOD CANDLE. According to Nylock, that is.

The party then, perhaps a little gullibly, followed the signs for the ‘Inner Sanctum’. They passed through a room that magically deadened all sounds and dimmed all light, before arriving at a, well, bedroom. The bed, table and other furniture was covered in a thick layer of dust. The party ignored the warning signs and headed straight for the wooden chest that they spotted.

A heavy portcullis dropped down, and ALL the party are trapped inside the room. The release lever was in a different room. By the book, this was the end of the line for Mopsy, Cramer, and Ho Lee. Aww.

Consider the ‘Responsibilitiesfor Failure’ and the ‘Consequences of Failure’. In this case, while the mistake was the Players, but the consequences of their failure was game ending (one of my complaints with linear adventure paths), not something to be experienced as part of play - if we had played this as a mission within the context of a sandbox we could all have had fun rolling up new characters and playing out the Archmage’s conquest of the Old World. So I fudged it…

In the style of Indiana Jones, SNAKES began to pour through the crumbling mortar between the stone of the far wall. The Party defeated the snakes, not without cost, and began to explore the hollow behind the wall – a Snake Nest. This involved some suitably paranoid, tentative exploration, ropes tied round waists and all. If only they had been that careful when entering the room…

Some impromptu demolition later and the Party had engineered a deathtrap-cum-shortcut straight to the third set of Throben Doors. What was it that Naggamanteh told them about the doors? That the danger was not as it seemed, but it would burn those who believed it was? Or something like that. D, playing Ho Lee, correctly inferred that whatever they saw when they opened these doors would be an illusion, and that they had to betray no sign of doubt in their conviction of the illusion’s unreality. Bravo! Pity not everyone in the party was listening to the wizard.   

Ho Lee threw open the third set of Throben Doors. The room beyond was filled with a raging inferno, a door visible on the other side. At this point, the book advises, “You should at this point ask each player in turn what they are doing. If the player says they will run or walk through, they will be safe. If a player asks a question back, says ummm, err etc or otherwise prevaricates, that Hero will be burned by the flames.”

Referee: Ho Lee?

Ho Lee (D): I walk through the flames to the door.

Referee: Cramer?

Cramer (A): I follow Ho Lee.

Referee: Mopsy?

Mopsy (C): Ummm. Errr. I try to protect myself with my shield?

Referee: Errr, okay…

“Hesitating Heroes will take 1D6 STAMINA damage immediately, and another 4D6 STAMINA to reach the far side of the room.” 5D6 STAMINA damage? Oh my. Oh, hang on, there is more, “In addition, the Hero will be ignited.” Hahahaha!

Mopsy suffered 2D6 STAMINA damage. His wavering disbelief was strengthened as he watched Ho Lee and Cramer walk unharmed to the door on the far side of the room. See, this is why I prefer sandbox-ey games to adventure paths – let the PCs suffer the consequence of their actions in a context in which those consequences can be enjoyed by the Players, even as the PCs are burned to a crisp.

With one slightly charred knight, the Party opened the door to the next room. There was no light. The room was not just dark – the light from the inferno did not penetrate the room at all. Cramer lit one of the candles that he had bought from Nylock. The room was illuminated, and the party saw that the room was filled with sharp blades, spinning saws, scything pendulums and razor-sharp wire. I think that it is safe to say:

Thing is, the ‘blood candle’ is a trap too, being named for its thirst for blood. As Cramer - Cramer the Fortunate, a thief with LUCK 13 - attempted to cross the room the candle flickered. The room went momentarily black at a crucial moment. Ouch! To say the least. The Party was more than slightly bloodied before they tried lighting the other candle, and found a steadier source of light. Still the blades taxed the Party’s STAMINA, before they reached the next door.

“We open the door.”

And I was thinking, “Don’t you want to listen at the door first, or come up with a plan of action, or…” But they threw open the door. And were faced with a room full of GUARDS – fifteen of them in fact. Five per PC. Spears were levelled inches from the Party. The Sergeant ordered them to put their hands on their heads and surrender.

“We fight.”

“What?! Haven’t you seen how dangerous it is to be outnumbered? You are all wounded.”     

“We fight.”

“Okay. As you reach for your sword you are immediately jabbed with a spear.”

The book says that Heroes who do not surrender will be immediately wounded by three spears. I had them wounded by one. A little pointer. I don’t like ‘plots’ that *require* the PCs are captured, but Players should also realise when their PCs are outmatched, and not bank on the Referee saving them… oh, hang on, that is exactly what I am going to do!

Again, the Sergeant calls for the Party to surrender.

“We fight.”

Bloody hell.

Well, the fight then. Ho Lee summoned a MANTICORE (many sessions ago, I let D spend a lot of Experience Points on creating a new Sorcery spell – let’s call it COR) that immediately began laying waste to the Guardroom. Cramer was driven, bloodied and unconscious, to the ground and the Party, dragging Cramer, retreated back into the Chamber of Night. That being the magically dark room filled with sharp objects. Ho Lee poured a POTION OF STAMINA down Cramer’s throat while Mopsy held the door shut. They had only a few moments to think of a plan.

They realised that they were still wearing the uniforms of the Mampang Guards. But embryonic plans to argue that this was all just a terrible misunderstanding never really developed. After all, a Manticore was still tearing Guards to pieces just beyond the door that they were desperately holding shut. C started to describe a plan that seemed to involve Mopsy taking all his clothes off, but that was quickly vetoed. The Guards were about to burst through the door. There was no way back, over the blades of the Chamber of Night.

They were trapped.

Playing by Google Hangouts…

Since D is off doing his second PhD, and with C feeling a little under the weather, last night’s game - the first real session in Allansia using Magic World - was played with only me and my wife at the actual table. Now, playing by Google Hangouts means:

…never having to tidy up.

With two young kids, our house is in a state of permanent toymageddon. Having people over for Games Night gives us a very good reason to tidy up. But playing by Google Hangouts means that we can wallow in our sloth! Like the Hobbits in Lord of the Rings, it’s all just trickery with camera angles.

…that the players have, very consciously, take turns to speak.

With everyone at the table, it is easy for one player to slip into the background while another holds court. The limits of Google Hangouts, such as occasional microphone drop out, cross-talk being rendered unintelligible, etc. are, in this case, its virtues. For the game via Google Plus to work, all the players need take care that everyone else has had the opportunity to have their say. And I, as Referee, have to ensure that everyone has actually heard my descriptions and the answers I give to any questions. D realised this very early in last night’s game, and instituted a set order in which the players would speak.

The limits of Google Hangouts actually improved play at our ‘table’. And, because I didn’t need to tidy away Duplo, it gave me more prep time.

Still, it's not very sociable, is it? And no one brings me any snacks - the Referees due reward!

A critical hit with the ugly stick

In Magic World, a BRP game, characters have an Appearance (APP) characteristic. As with any characteristic, if, by magic, ageing, disease, or wounds, the characteristic is reduced to zero, death follows shortly. But just how does a character 'ugly away'?

This is a pressing question. In the our new campaign, a Magic World game set in Allansia, the players have rolled a particularly ugly bunch of PCs. Forget the good, the bad, and the ugly, we have the ugly, the ugly, and the ugly. As these players are particularly reckless, I can envisage (en-visage, geddit?!) an early-campaign Major Wound stripping them of 1d3 points of APP, leaving them hovering at the door of death by disfigurement. But what does this mean? 

Well, it means that the player characters perhaps ought to head to the Salamonis School of Decorum and Ettiquette for some APP training. And it means I should have used Elric! characteristic generation, which I remember as being 2d6+6 right down the line. But in terms of being reduced to zero APP, I see two options. 

Option one is to interpret a Major Wound that reduces APP to zero as a catastrophic fatal wound (sword through face kind of thing) regardless of remaining HP. "Yes, I know your character still has just under half his HP remaining, but that sword stroke chopped his face clean off. Sorry." 

Option two is the Call of Cthulhu solution. Having APP reduced to zero causes permanent destruction of the character's personality, and control of the character passes into the hands of the Referee. The character is 'dead' as a player character. Incidentally, it is not the ugliness itself that causes this, but the damage to the character's sense of self.

Are there any other ways of explaining character 'death' through APP loss? Have you ever had a character 'die' through ugliness in your game?

Wish fulfillment

Well, that seemed to work like magic. Yesterday I wrote, "My Gazetteers are falling to bits - when will they hit D&D Classics?"

And the answer is... Today. 

So, making sure that I get the wording exactly right - you never no what aspect of the ritual is responsible for the success of the spell: "My Creature Crucible books are falling to bits - when will they hit D&D Classics?"

Making Peace with .PDFs

I was a long time seeing the light, I confess. I have owned gaming books in .pdf form for a few years now, but always preferred a real, professionally produced hardcopy. I had never got on with any form of extended reading on a screen. A newspaper article, a blog post - fine. An academic paper, a rulebook, or even an adventure... no, I need something like that in my hands. I need to be able to flick back and forth, to hold a finger in a page and check the index, and all the rest. The gaming .pdfs I bought, I bought because hardcopies were prohibitively expensive (whether to buy or to ship). I printed the parts I wanted, and rest was left largely unread. I accumulated a large number of unread 'books', while my preference for hardcopy led me to spend too much money on eBay replacing what I once owned, and buying what I never had the disposable income to afford in the days of pocket money.

BUT.

Several things have changed my mind.

First was the increasing availability of classic gaming material exclusively in .pdf form. There was the launch of D&D Classics, which turned my DriveThruRPG/RPGNow habit into something more like an addiction. I finally splashed out on the Classic Traveller CD-ROMs. They are the best value gaming products in existence. Excepting the free stuff, of course. And then there is the free stuff - things like Stars Without Number, Labyrinth Lord, etc.

Second was the fact that I bought myself a tablet. It wasn't reading on a screen that was the problem. It was reading on a laptop or desktop computer. A monitor is not the ideal platform for reading a book - who would choose to read a book on their TV? But a light-weight tablet that can be held in one hand, set on the arm of a chair, or even read in bed with the light off? Suddenly I found that I had a means of engaging with those .pdf files I owned without printing them out. But that did bring me closer to using them at the table, where, for me at least, paper is still king.

So, for Christmas, I bought myself a pretty heavy duty comb-binder.

And so, armed with this, do I replace my ageing (rust-stained) originals with pristine electronic copies and the means to make a relatively durable book? A book that lies flat on the table - for gaming purposes all books should be comb or spiral bound! Is there any value in the originals as things, objects of which I am too precious to use them comfortably and regularly? My Gazetteers are falling to bits - when will they hit D&D Classics?