Paying the Index Card Tax...

Much of my current sandbox game is run using index cards. Now, I need a better system of sorting and organising these cards - at the moment the principle, as with most of my campaign notes, is that they get shoved in the folder at the end of a session. Organisation aside, being able to flick through a stack of cards with concise and game-relevant details allows me to have the NPCs, locations, and encounters allows me to keep the engine of the sandbox to hand.  

The colours, they mean nothing. NOTHING!

But, I figure it is time to start paying my taxes. One of the things that I've been doing is creating 'interesting' encounters to flesh out the perfectly ordinary Wandering Monster tables. And if I'm paying my tax, I have to do something a little more organised, a little less piecemeal. So a 1d12 table of GOBLIN encounters, fleshed out as index cards ready for use at the table, ready for use in Basic D&D/Labyrinth Lord games...

Goblins?! Boring! Yeah, well, I like goblins. Goblins are a big part of Basic Level D&D. And interesting doesn't have to mean weird, or gonzo. And (hey, I'm getting defensive here!) I know that these are nothing that you couldn't do yourself. But then, that's part of the point. Here's my contribution to the collective body of things that we *could* all do ourselves, based on how I run things at my table.

After I've posted up the goblins, I'll probably do some low-level undead.

All of these fit on two sides of a 6"x4" index card when printed in Times New Roman at 12pt Calibri at 11pt. 

[EDIT: Oh, and while I know you can't remember NPCs from one session to the next, but if you are playing in my game (yes, YOU!), there are spoilers ahead.]

GOBLIN ENCOUNTERS 1-6 (of 12, 7-12 tomorrow)

1 THE BOAR HUNT

FOUR scrawny GOBLINS (Polg, Hruk, Jargo, Bukk) are hunting. Armed with long spears and slings, they have bagged several birds, and are now on the trail of a dangerous BOAR. They call the Boar Old Tusk-Gore, and by all accounts it is a large, dangerous alpha male.

GOBLINS (4) = AC: 6, HD: 1-1, HP: 3, MV: 30’ per round, ATT: 1 spear or sling, DAM: 1d6 or 1d4, SV: NM, MR: 7, AL: C. XP: 5

No modifiers to the reaction check. If the party receives a favourable reaction, the goblins may invite the party to share lunch with them, even inviting them to help with the hunt. A hostile reaction will likely not see the goblins attack directly, but the party will be tracked for some time (check for Hear Noise) as the goblins evaluate the prospect of taking bigger game: the party!

The goblins are wearing simple silver jewellery worth 15GP in total.

Old Tusk-Gore is a hulking boar, bigger than a wolfhound and covered with scars. As the boar charges through the undergrowth he will seem much bigger to startled low-level PCs. Remember to check Goblin Morale as the beast’s grunts and snorts towards them, a squealing roar heralding its charge, with snot and drool dribbling from its scarred mouth!

WILD BOAR (Old Tusk-Gore) = AC: 7, HD: 3, HP: 21, MV: 30’ per round, ATT: 1 tusk, DAM: 2d4, SV: F2, MR: 9, AL: N. XP: 35

A -3 modifier to the reaction check – Old Tusk-Gore is very aggressive. A favourable reaction will see the beast retreat, almost as if the party were not there. A hostile reaction will see the boar charge at the lead or largest PC.

2 DUNJA DEM THE MYSTIC

A SINGLE GOBLIN dances and sings and waves his gri-gri around as the party approach. High on mushroom tea, DUNJA DEM is on a spirit journey and is only half in this world. He wears layers of animal pelts, giving him the appearance of a quite horrible toy bear.

DUNJA DEM (SHAMAN 2): AC: 6, HD2*, HP: 10, MV: 30‘per round, ATT: 1 silver sickle, DAM: 1d4, SV: C2, MR: 7, AL: C. XP: 35

Dunja Dem knows Protection (from Evil/Good), which he casts waving his gri-gri and singing a guttural ‘nursery rhyme’ about bugbears eating children.

No modifiers to the reaction check – Dunja Dem is unpredictable. If the party receives a favourable reaction he is liable to give them plenty of information about the area, and gossip as to the politics of the local tribes, which he intersperses with empty aphorisms. He will offer to brew up some mushroom tea. PCs drinking the tea must Save vs Poison if they wish to resist the effects, which involve a hallucinatory(?) visitation by whatever beings would reinforce the already existing motivating ideas and principles of the PC. If the party receives a hostile reaction, Dunja Dem will attempt to curse the PCs (though he has no real magic in this regard). His promises of doom, however, should unnerve, even though they are hopelessly general; he will promise that they will die when they pass between the stone teeth, that when they will lose all that they love under the green roof, that the blue salt desert will devour them, skin, blood, bones, and all, etc. The next time the PCs travel through the mountains, into a dense forest, or across the open sea they should shiver at the memory of Dunja Dem’s curse/s. Dunja Dem may attack the PCs – he is high and a little unhinged after all. 

Dunja Dem’s only treasure is a simple silver sickle (used for cutting herbs and fungi for his ‘potions’), worth 30GP.

3 THE PLAGUE PILGRIMS

FIVE pathetic GOBLINS (Tunk, Regba, Weel, Nesh, Sokka), wrapped in bandages, trudge wearily. Four carry sacks while the goblin taking the turn to lead the procession scourges itself. They stink, and green pus stains their dressings. They are suffering from the Weeping Buboes*. They are travelling to a stone circle nearby, where they plan to burn offerings to Bargrivyek. The sacks contain small animals (chickens, a kid, two puppies, rats), except for one that contains a naked, bruised, concussed, and bound and gagged HALFLING (Bundy Strawhair). Returned to his village, the party will be rewarded with the family heirloom; an elven Dagger +1.

GOBLINS (5) = AC: 7, HD: 1-1, HP: 2, MV: 20’ per round, ATT: 1 dagger (-2 to hit), DAM: 1d4, SV: NM, MR: 6, AL: C. XP: 5

If the party receives a favourable reaction, the goblins will beg for a little food. The goblins will tell the party where they are going, and will welcome an escort to the stone circle. Travelling with the goblins will expose the party to the Weeping Buboes. Avoiding close contact grants a +3 to the Saving Throw (being spattered in infected goblin blood will result in a -1 penalty). If the party receives a hostile reaction, the goblins will offer the party 25GP to escort them to the stone circle. They will wheedle and beg, and make extravagant promises. Once at the stone circle, they will attempt to add the party to the burnt offerings.

*The Weeping Buboes: SAVE VS POISON. On a failure, after two days swellings develop in the groin, the neck, and the armpit (-1 to hit, -2 penalty to CHR modifier). After two more days, these begin to ooze a green liquid that smells unpleasant, reminiscent of strong cheese (-2 to hit, -2 to CHR modifier, penalties to other rolls). The character will die as their lungs fill with ooze in 2d4 days after that. A Cure Disease spell is the only sure cure, though a sage or other knowledgeable person might know of a remedy, the ingredients of which are expensive or dangerous to recover.    

4 RAIDERS!

EIGHT GOBLINS (Gurgan, Hukk, Lendol, Skan, Iggmal, Posk, Bosk, Jrunt) are armed and armoured and looking for plunder. Dressed in leather armour, decorated by copper coins sewn in rows, they each carry a spear, a short sword, and a shield. These are more dangerous than the average goblin (see AC and Morale). Gurgan is the leader of the war band, and is one of the champions of a local goblin ‘king’. He can be easily angered.

GOBLINS (7) = AC: 5, HD: 1-1, HP: 5, MV: 30’ per round, ATT: 1 spear or short sword, DAM: 1d6, SV: NM, MR: 8, AL: C. XP: 5

GURGAN = AC: 5, HD: 2, HP: 9, MV: 30’ per round, ATT: 1 spear or short sword, DAM: 1d6, SV: NM, MR: 8, AL: C. XP: 20

If the party receives a favourable reaction, the warband are returning from successfully desecrating a temple. Gurgan has no wish to risk his plunder by taking on a party of adventurers. He will offer to trade with party, and is particularly keen to acquire a good steel longsword, and other weapons and armour of human (or better) craftsmanship. The war band have a chest containing 200GP, two tapestries that could be sold for up to 100GP each, and an altar piece made from silver and semi-precious stones worth 100GP. The tapestries and altar piece will be difficult to sell except through a fence, but could be returned to a temple.

If the party receives a hostile reaction, the pickings have been lean – though they have still to probe the defences of the temple. Gurgan is minded to kill the PCs and strip their corpses of loot. In this case, the only treasure is a golden torc worth 25GP worn by Gurgan. If he is surrenders, he will attempt to preserve his own life by claiming, truthfully, that his king will ransom him (for 100GP).

5 BRAINZ ARE BEST!

The party encounter FIVE savage GOBLINS (Esh, Kift, Grutt, Wast, Puv), naked but for daubs and red-brown across their bodies and a few scraps of poorly tanned leather. The daubs are, of course, dried blood, and the leather is flayed human skin. Their teeth are filed to points. They are members of a flesh-eating cult, treated with fearful reverence by the local tribes. They carry no treasure except an ornate brass key for a private box in the city bank.

GOBLINS (5) = AC: 6, HD: 1-1, HP: 5, MV: 30’ per round, ATT: 1 flint dagger or thrown stone, DAM: 1d3, SV: NM, MR: 7, AL: C. XP: 5

The goblins know that they are little match for a well-armed party. They are not concerned with self-preservation but with feeding the evil deep under the roots of an enormous tree. They worship a shrine that whispers promises of power in exchange for brains. Five marble skulls sit on the altar with empty brainpans. If a brain is placed in each of these, the ‘worshipper’ is granted a +2 to all to hit rolls and saving throws for a week (with other bonuses as appropriate), while the shrine consumes the brains. There is 50GP in loose coinage scattered about the remnants of the eaten. The entrance to the shrine is trapped with a staked 7" deep pit. The disguise (branches and leaf litter) is obvious if approached carefully (at exploration speed) but not if moving quickly (SAVE VS DRAGON BREATH to avoid falling and taking 1d8 damage).   

There is a -4 modifier to the reaction check – these are beings of rare malevolence. If the party receives a favourable reaction, it is because the goblins have even worse enemies. Two bugbears are searching the area, looking to seize the shrine. The goblins will wheedle with the party, trying to persuade the party that the bugbears are carrying great treasure.  If the party receives a hostile reaction, the goblins will encourage the party to pursue them back to the shrine, to lure the party into their trap and onto into the twisting, narrow tunnels that lead to the shrine.

6 THE SLAVE CARAVAN

The party encounters SIX GOBLINS (Lom, Bont, Grund, Gedd, Ploo, Henk), their eyes piteous, an air of total defeat about them. They are bound by chains that link them, neck and wrists, to the goblin behind and in front. A pair of mules brings up the rear, laden with travelling gear (tents, food, wine, etc.). They are being led by THREE large, ruddy-faced, pot-bellied MEN (Vint, Pascal, Antrem) – slavers. They are armed with nets, whips, and swords, and wear leather armour.

MEN (3) = AC: 6, HD: 1 HP: 6, MV: 30’ per round, ATT: 1 Sword, DAM: 1d8, SV: T1, MR: 8, AL: C. XP: 10

The slavers carry little treasure (just 30GP between them), though they have plenty of useful (but worn and poor quality) equipment. The goblins are their main treasure – but even these sell for little more than 10 GP each. The goblins are wretched, and will do little to win their freedom. If they can be armed and given some inspiration, they will fight as normal goblins.

If the party receive a favourable reaction they may be invited to share a meal. The slavers are looking for more merchandise – they have chains for up to 30 goblins – and will quiz the party about local humanoid tribes. If the party appears to find the business distasteful, the slavers will try to recruit the party to their goblin hunting by telling them a tall tale(?) of missing children – a brother and sister – they are been tracking, kidnapped by goblins. If the party appear interested in slaving, the slavers will suggest that they could introduce the party to their patron, a rich merchant in the city always on the look-out for enterprising men. If the party receives a hostile reaction, the slavers will see the party as either 1) rival slavers, out to steal their ‘goods’, and will not entertain any dialogue, or 2) valuable merchandise, if only an iron collar could be slipped around their necks. 

Fantasy Religion?

I have never been convinced by advice that when building a D&D-esque game world, a Referee should model their fantasy religions on those in the real world. Sure, draw on them for inspiration and motifs, etc. But when a D&D-esque fantasy world have a multitude of very real gods (or Immortals), each granting countless miracles each day to their priests, I wonder what room there is for some of the *best* bits of real world religion.

Well, it is a *best* bit when it is a fantasy world and you are hundreds of years removed...

In particular, what room is there for the corrupt priest? Or the secret heretic?

Of course, in a fantasy game world in which the gods are distant and inactive there is room for secret heretical cults with a church and worldly priests who abuse their robes. And distant, inactive gods are one answer, but they're not the answer for the assumed D&D game world. If the gods are active, intervening in human life, if there are unmistakable signs of divine favour (spells, for instance), these sinners and unbelievers will struggle to masquerade as blessed members of the church of the god who they offend.

Note: In Hammerstein!, my own game world (even though we're currently exploring Titan again), I have tried to give the schisms and heresies that are so interesting in real life (at least when you are removed by several hundred years) a fantasy analogue by having humans reject the 'Gods' (a race a cosmic superhuman beings) and instead worship 'Saints'. These are something like the Immortals of Mentzer D&D - humans who, by great deeds, magic, or the veneration of a community, have achieved some kind of intercessionary afterlife. This means that there are a multitude of Saints, some worshipped across the known world, others, such as the heroic ancestors of a single tribe, unknown beyond a single valley or town. This allows me as the Referee to create an endless number of [not-]gods, each with overlapping portfolios and rival interests. It also allows me to plug in all manner of localised real world pantheons by recasting them as heroic ancestors. At the same time - as they reject the Gods - they are all nominally part of the (Lawful) Church of Man, a civilising, unifying project that has a number of rival anti-popes. This gives me room for 'internal' religious conflicts that can range from bloodless doctrinal disputes (hopefully something more 'adventuresome' than to which of the competing Saints should the cobblers of Byzantium offer their devotion) to priests wading in gore as nations clash in war, rallying under the ikons and relics of their heroic ancestors. 

Anyway, do you have corrupt priests and heresies in your game? And what does their (watchful) god do about the bastards?

Weather tables?! I don’t need no steenking weather tables!

I love weather tables.

Wait, what?! What about the title of this post?

Let me explain. I love weather tables. I love the way in which they can succinctly, and without the confusion of poorly written prose, tell a Referee about the types and frequencies of weather that a region (a region that might be quite alien to our 'real world' knowledge) might experience in any given season. But I don't roll on them. At least not when I am playing a D&Dish game, or a game that aspires to the abstraction of Basic/Expert D&D - as my current rules melange tends towards, combining a D100 game (Magic World with bits and bobs from the rest of the 'family'), but bolting on the Mentzer D&D wilderness exploration rules (and the reaction table, and morale rules, etc).

I don't roll on weather tables because, in this type of game, weather only really matters when it is going to have a game effect. I might describe the weather, based on the region and the season. And sure, if we were playing a very crunchy game we might have mechanics where spring shower might hinder the PCs' ability to use their bows, risk ruining a spell book, and so on, but D&D is a game of abstractions. And in Basic/Expert D&D I have a roll that abstracts the game effects of the weather – the roll for ‘getting lost’.

I used to puzzle over the roll for getting lost. How on Mystara should a party of adventurers get lost so often? I didn't understand how to apply the getting lost rule because I was living with all the privileges of a 20^th/21^st century citizen of the 'West' and I have never been particularly 'outdoorsy'. But getting *dangerously* lost in even the limited 'wilds' of the UK is perfectly possible, and pretty common, even in an age of advanced meteorology, mobile phones, superb cartography, GPS devices, fantastically weather-resistant clothing, etc.

In Mentzer D&D, a party will become lost once every six days of travel in 'Clear or Grassland' terrain, every other day when travelling in 'Swamp, Jungle, or Desert', and once every three days in 'All Other'. In the books, there isn't much guidance to lead a Referee to use the rule in a way that is any more interesting than the party setting off in the wrong direction after breaking camp. 

But the vast majority of D&D rules are like that, from reaction rolls, to combat, to morale, to wandering monsters. You are provided with a short cut to a game effect, and it is the job of the Referee to rationalise and describe that effect in ways that are interesting both descriptively, and that lead to further opportunities for the players to make decisions for their PCs. So, sure, the PCs might simply veer off course, but in the abstraction of D&D, I have come to use the ‘getting lost’ roll as and an ‘environmental encounter’, or, more interestingly ‘travel obstacle’ roll. 

So, when crossing a Grassland, if the Referee rolls a '1', it might simply be a particularly overcast day, causing the party to lose their bearings when trying to navigate by the Sun. It might have be a spring shower, that leads to their cart (you do use encumbrance rules, yes?) getting stuck in the mud. It might have be a minor river swollen by spring rain and meltwater from the highlands, that appears too dangerous to ford (though the party can try their luck... if they don't want to deviate from their path). The party might be using a functionally poor map, with landmarks misplaced, making navigation confusing. There might be a bushfire ahead. In mountains the travel obstacle might be even quite mild weather. It might be a ravine, a rockfall, cliff face. And so on. Or the party might come across an 'encounter' that seriously tempts them to delay or deviate in their travel. I suggest that a 'getting lost' roll used to throw an encounter the PCs way should be peaceful (at least initially) encounters - things designed to delay and divert the PCs, distinct from the direct dangers that I reserve for the wandering 'monster' tables. So, a village reduced to smoking ruins for the PCs to pick through. A caravan of traders. A column of refugees. Or pilgrims. Lost children. A leper colony. An opportunity to hunt a magnificent stag.

In other words, I use the getting lost roll, with a 'lost' result indicating that something has disrupted, or has the potential to disrupt their planned journey. And because of this I ignore the guidance that getting lost rolls should not be made on roads, or rivers, or when following a coastline. Sure, the PCs are less likely to actually get lost. But when following a road (say), the PCs are far more likely to encounter 'peaceful' delays and diversions - so it all balances out in the abstraction of D&D. While a 1 rolled when crossing a Grassland might be a day's delay as the party veers off course, on a road it is the potential for a day to be lost dealing with an interesting NPC (or taking the consequences of refusing to engage with the NPC). Or it is simply a broken wheel on the cart, leading to a decision the players need to make balancing the urgency of their travel and the need for all that gear they are lugging around.

I am ambivalent about whether I need to build random tables for 'travel obstacles'. I haven't as yet, and think that the variety required - terrain, season, level of civilization, etc. - might make it a fool's errand. And then we have the problem that a 'travel obstacle' is not the same for one party as it is another. These are the problems, not that that some of the encounters briefly described above are 'unique' is not a problem. I use wandering monster tables - I think the 'mechanisation' of the presence of active dangers by region/terrain is a useful thing - and while my encounter tables sometimes have 'unique' encounters baked into them, there is plenty of generic encounters too (and must be if you are accommodating player freedom without burning yourself out on preparation). But when I roll up some Orcs, the encounter is not just 2d4 Orcs appear 4d6x10 yards away. Fight! These random rolls provide the bones for making an encounter unique. 2 Orcs appearing 40 yards away presents different opportunities for Referee rationalisation than does 8 Orcs appearing 240 yards away. And then the reaction table provides another bone for the skeleton. Could we (I) build a series of analogous rolls that would add a few bones to the 'travel obstacle', allowing Referee interpretation and improvisation, without needing a huge list of unique encounters, or something as big as one of the Books of the Tome of Adventure Design?  

Anyway, I've got diverted, slowly slipping into a broader discussion of my admiration of D&D as a 'procedural' game...

Melange

Not something collected from Sand Worms, but a description of the patchwork of rules in play at my table during last week's session. The Party had found the Skin Mandala, were found by a little trouble in Salamonis (I should write up those session reports), and were then recruited by the King's spymaster to ensure that the trouble brewing between the local Goblin tribes (trouble likely caused by some unprovoked murder-hoboism by the Party) was turned to Salamonis' advantage. The reward was membership of the Order of the Brass Sceptre, a minor 'knightly' order populated by merchants and professors, but nevertheless a step into Salamonis society. 

The players were given some brief details on five local Goblin tribes, their customs and allegiances, and decided that the Party would begin by visiting the savage Moondance Goblins of the Forest of Spiders. The plan is still nebulous, but seems to be getting towards, 'unite the Goblins and sack Salamonis'. Indeed!

But in the sort term, that means a bit of a wilderness crawl. Out came the numbered hex paper and the index cards, and I started generating interesting encounters in and around the Forest of Spiders. Giant Spiders. Zharradan Marr's Rhino-Men and Soulless Ones. Mundane animals. Trees festooned with gory charms. Sinkholes of corruption. A village of Sprites. Etc. 

Now, on the table there were three d100 rule-books; Magic World (which we're using), RuneQuest 6, which is filled with interesting stuff, and OpenQuest 2, which has tended to be my go to d100 bestiary. Also on the table were Titan, Out of the Pit, and Advanced Fighting Fantasy 2e, to provide me with quick setting reference when I didn't just make it up. But that I resorted to using the next two books is something that I found quite surprising. In play, I referred both to Menzter Basic and Expert D&D. From the Basic D&D DM's book I took guidelines of 'monster' reactions and handling morale. From the Expert D&D book I took the procedures for wilderness exploration - getting lost, random encounters, and so on.

It made me realise just how much, as a DM, I value the D&D 'procedural game'. I've been meaning to write a proper blog post extolling the virtues of D&D's abstract, procedural (but simple) systems, so we can add that post to the list of things that I have promised to do. In the meantime, who else indulges in a cross-system melange? 

[King] Arthur as an 'Old School' PC

I borrowed Bernard Cornwell's Enemy of God, the second book in his Arthur series, from the library* yesterday. I'm only a few pages in, but there is a description of Arthur that should be applicable to any PC in the sorts of games that I prefer to run:

"He was good at fighting, and he even enjoyed battle for the unleashed thrills it gave his usually so careful soul, but he never sought war if peace was available because he mistrusted the uncertainties of battle. The vagaries of victory and defeat were too unpredictable, and Arthur hated to see good order and careful diplomacy abandoned to the chances of battle." (p. 12, Penguin paperback)

Once the dice are clattering on the table, the lives of the PCs are at the mercy of random chance. The odds of victory might be good, but the spectre of mortal failure is always there, and some victories come at a cost you would be unwilling to pay. So long as the PCs are talking (and scheming) their fate rests in the quality of their play, their decisions. It is thinking such as this that goes some way to explain no only why I tend to struggle to run games that have rules for 'social combat', but also why I prefer games in which PC success in combat is not so intimately related to rules mastery.  

*Aren't libraries brilliant? I know that 'austerity' will have great human cost as services are cut, but the cost to British cultural life will also be lamentable. Cardiff Council, for example, has to make cuts worth £50M. This might close a concert hall with one of the best acoustics in Britain, and it will almost certainly will restrict the services, opening hours, and staffing of libraries. If not close some entirely.

   

Appendix N[ow]

This Christmas I decided to try to read more, notwithstanding my addiction to Assassins' Creed: Black Flag's mix of rum, sodomy and the lash. I think that I've gone proper Grog, as I was actually thinking of making an argument that books have far better acting, cinematography, and special effects than films - while mediocre fantasy and science fiction films often leave me unsatisfied, my imagination can make even a bad book passable.

So what have a I read so far?

Conan the Conqueror, Robert E Howard

So I've been reading a lot of Conan. It is always good for gaming fodder. In this, the only Conan novel (and even then it is only a couple of hundred pages long or so), we have hints at a dungeon adventure to retrieve a magical artifact, Conan exploring a temple of evil, Conan infiltrating a castle, an encounter with a mysterious woodland witch... Oh, and pirates! I've said in the past that Mentzer Expert is one of my all time favourite RPG books. It has rules for ships and sailing (and the included adventure demands that your PCs get themselves shipshape!), something that all fantasy RPGs should have.  

The Winter King, Bernard Cornwell

This was my favourite book of this bunch. BY FAR. I must confess that I have never read any Bernard Cornwell. I might have watched a few episodes of Sharpe, and that is about it. My mum has been trying to push Cornwell's Saxon books on my for a while now. So, once I have finished his 'Arthur' books I will almost certainly be moving on to those. I also can't wait for the RQ6 Mythic Britain book now, which is heavily inspired by this series.

In short: A vivid picture of dark ages Britain, with a (magical?), mysterious, and dangerous behind the scenes schemer - Merlin - bloody, frightening combat and, and... I really want to know what happens next!

The Black Company, Glenn Cook

I found this hard going at first, but gradually 'got' the writing style, and the setting. It took me some time to understood that the world was both gritty and relatively high in magic. I only read the first book in the series - this is the only book for which Google Image Search couldn't bring back exactly the cover of the book that I had read - but I'll be picking up more of the Black Company series.

The Name of the Wind, Patrick Rothfuss

Reading this, I had the opposite experience as I did when reading The Black Company. I started off loving this book, and ended up bored. Over 600-odd pages, I would expect more. I'd at least expect the book to cover the whole of Kvothe's childhood and education, even if we didn't get to his legendary deeds. At one point I thought to myself, 'this is what Harry Potter should have been', and by the end I thought that, just like Harry Potter, it was too little stretched out over too many words. I probably will pick up more books by Patrick Rothfuss - he is a very good writer - but hopefully we'll have a slightly higher adventure to page ratio next time.

The Stainless Steel Rat's Revenge, Harry Harrison

I bought this book along with a whole bunch of other 'Traveller' inspirational reading ages ago. The other books included Larry Niven's Ringworld and a handful of Dumarest novels by E.C. Tubb. And I preferred those. I think that the humour was lost on me - nearly half a century on from the time in which this book was written. As for the adventure, while it provided some inspiration for Traveller-esque capers, all too often Slippery Jim diGriz succeeds by virtue of heavy-handed author's perogative. Earl Dumarest, by comparison, feels much more 'vulnerable', even though they are both extra-humanly capable characters.

I did enjoy the 2000AD strips back in the day. Perhaps my next encounter with the Stainless Steel Rat will be in the form of James Coburn chanelled through Carlos Ezquerra. 

Ugly Beginnings

A few weeks ago we resumed our regular fantasy adventure gaming, starting a Magic World game set in Fighting Fantasy’s Allansia. I had recently picked up the ‘World Builder’ Bundle of Holding, which contained the fantastic Tome of Adventure Design by Matt Finch. Before our first session I spent a very happy hour or two rolling on the tables in Book1: Principles and Starting Points, generating a panoply of potential starting points for the first adventure. In the end, I settled on a mission to recover the ‘Skin Mandala’. More on that next post.

A, D and C generated their characters. Magic World is quick, but the process is still too long – with these players, anyway – for my taste. The 'with these players' is an important caveat; Magic World character generation is fast and straightforward, as rather than assigning each skill point individually it assigns them in big chunks according to ‘culture’ and ‘profession’. As far as equipment goes, I was an especially generous Chronicler (referee) when it came to equipment, especially with C, who wanted his character to have all sorts of potentially expensive bits and bobs, including an Elvish dictionary and a spyglass, on top of his metal armour!

A rolled up Nia, a thief that she imagined as an adventurous grave robber. D rolled up Cedric Tanner, an ambitious bandit. C rolled up Doncho, a dispossessed minor noble from the Vale of Yore. Unfortunately, as I let them assign their stats and allowed the limited point swapping set out in the rulebook, we ended up with some characters with some serious… problems. Doncho and Nia both had an Appearance (APP) of 4, while Nia and Cedric both have an Intelligence (INT) of 8 (which in Magic World is human minimum!). Doncho has a pigeon chest, six toes on each foot and a terrible lisp, while Nia is balding and constantly dishevelled – no matter what she wears it appears that she is dressed in someone else’s clothes. Both Nia and Cedric speak in pretty crude, broken Common.

A party of much promise…

So, there they were, drinking away their last silvers (I am generous, but in exchange for all that gear they were certainly going to be skint) in their inn, the Black Elf Moon near the New Bridge in Salamonis, when a tall, expressionless man with a brass hand approached them. He was Pak Pao, manservant of Darmand the Sage, and his master had an offer for them.

Next: The Skin Mandala.