Jabberwock's Rest

Back From a Break

2012-01-02T18:31:00.001-05:00

Sorry I was absent for a bit. Life's little responsibilities have a way of intruding, and between career and family duties, gaming (and game blogging) must sometimes unavoidably take a backseat.

I recall reading E. Gary Gygax's "excuse" for not finishing the Temple of Elemental Evil, something along the lines of "running the mundane matters of the company [TSR] doesn't always allow a lot of time for the fun chores of module [substitute adventure there, youngsters] writing," or some such. My reaction: "Bah! Get back into your office and finish that sucker!" And we all know how long we waited for T1-4 to arrive. (So I guess I'm gulty in similar fashion, though this is not to say this blog is something folks wait for with similarly baited breath!)

In 2012 I'll be restarting, or warming back to life, a 4e campaign I was running some months ago. Our group rotates DMs, so things run for a limited time to allow the next guy a chance. Now it been quite a few months, so I'm eager to light a fire under the players (and their characters, figuratively at least). I've taken the opportunity to allow them to make a few tweaks to their powers and such.

So how do you handle such campaign breaks? Do things (re)start exactly where you left off? You you provide an informational recap or leave your players to go it alone?

As time moves on, I've mellowed about these things. My goal is to have fun and for my players to have a great ride. If recapping things or reminding them of past clues helps keep the group on track, I personally see nothing wrong with that. I've also gone soft on new character introduction. If a PC dies, I try to allow the replacement character to appear fairly quickly—perhaps not mid-dungeon, but soon—none of that journey to the next city and meet them in a tavern business. I'm getting older, and my players are in their 30s and 40s and 50s, and most barely can fit in a monthly session. We really don't have the time to waste half a session on the obligatory and predictable introductions. I'd rather just say let them meet the new character on the road (perhaps during a battle, such as a classic goblins attack the caravan set piece) and let the players decide the connections. For me, it works better and saves precious play time, but I realize for many DMs this would be heresy. How do you treat such matters of new character introduction?

In any case, it's good to be back. I hope all are enjoying the holidays, and I'll try to post more often going into 2012! Thanks for sticking with me.

Seasonal Change

2011-09-05T12:41:00.003-04:00

There's something about August ending that gets me thinking about Autumn. I guess that's normal. Perhaps it's the rain, or the cool wind I feel in the late afternoons, or the fact that it's getting darker earlier here in the U.S. I think it's also the knowledge that once October 1st arrives, the space between the beginning of my favorite month and December will fly by. Whatever the reason, with a mixture of expectation and melancholy I look to the coming seasonal change.

Do you "play" in the different seasons as GM? Do the seasons change in your campaign world?

I've rarely had a campaign run long enough to track the change of several seasons, and of course seasons might vary in a fantasy world (winter in Athas, anyone?). But I definitely find running temperate zone adventuring a bit boring, and I think it wrong that a party might have travel way up north just to see a little snow. (Perhaps that's my real-life location speaking to me—living in the northeast USA, I typically see temperatures ranging from 20 to 100 degrees F, and snow is hardly uncommon during the span from December through March.) I rather like the weather-related variety, myself.

About a year ago I began a new 4e campaign (you can read Ken's wonderful synopsis starting here) and I vowed to make it a little different. The initial session, I steered the party toward the beach and sand, and had them playing in the surf with huge crabs, all in an attempt to get away from the typical wooded hills. The attempt was semi-successful, but as the campaign continues (hopefully for a while) the group will voyage across the sea, visit the desert and a Cairo-style city, and explore southern jungles.

Sometimes a little seasonal change can be enough to make that standard campaign just a bit different. So the next time your group sets out looking for that long-lost tomb or crumbling keep, have them encounter some fresh-fallen snow, some driving hail, or perhaps a thick morning fog (all preferably combined with a dangerous encounter)—both you and your group may find it a refreshing change of pace.

Free RPG Day - Did you go?

2011-06-19T12:09:00.011-04:00

Ah yes, Free RPG Day. So ... did you go this year?

There were lots of good freebies to be had this year, including Goodman Games' Dungeon Crawl Classics RPG Adventure Starter, Paizo's We Be Goblins module (curse ye Pett, you've done it again!), the usual nice offering from Wizards of the Coast, and much more.

I'm fully in support of Free RPG Day. So-called brick and mortar stores are disappearing at a frightening rate. Case in point, I headed over Cedar Grove, NJ the other day for a sit down lunch with frequent co-conspirator and kick-ass RPG author Mike Ferguson. The Cedar Grove area was home to two cool stores within arms throw of each other—Time Warp Comics & Games and New Moon Comics. Did the use of the word was there serve as a tip-off?

I've developed a comfortable rhythm on my infrequent visits: stop at Time Warp, grab some pizza next door and talk about upcoming RPG projects (many a published project has been thrashed out there over a slice), and then ride down Rt. 23 a mile or so to New Moon. Alas, no more. We pulled up the the former location of New Moon to find an empty storefront, blank sign, and vacant lot. Yikes, how I hate when that happens. A quick Web search revealed the unsurprising culprit—the dreaded down economy. Now I should note that New Moon continues on as an online entity (link above) and I heartily encourage you to shop there. The owner is a first-rate fellow and the staff was always very nice. I intend to give them my continued business. But I shall miss the storefront greatly.

Online shopping is great. I have a family now, and gamestore runs frankly are harder to plan than in the past. But there is something wonderful about picking up the latest boardgame, turning the box to read the back, and getting the heft of the game. Likewise, flipping through a new RPG book and seeing the art, glancing at the maps, and instantly understanding the length of the work tells me more and is more enjoyable than the best online preview. It's a part of my shopping experience, and an important ritual.

So resist the temptation (I'm guilty sometimes too) to shop online or via ebay, when possible visit your friendly local game store, and spend a few bucks. Not just on Free RPG Day (definitely go then!) but whenever you can. They'll thank you and you'll benefit the hobby as a whole.

Cthulhu Dreams

2011-05-04T08:00:00.004-04:00

It's a wrap—Age of Cthulhu 5: The Long Reach of Evil is due in stores in about a month.

This book was a particularly enjoyable one to work on, in no small part because of my co-authors—my very skilled sometimes- co-conspirator Mike Ferguson and the fearsomely talented Richard Pett. The compilation offers a nice blend of pulpy Cthulhu adventures set in foreign locations: the Amazon (Ferguson), Sumatra (Pett), and Tibet (my bit).

Tibet was my first choice for location, and an interesting one it was. Even today, travelers to Tibet find a region steeped in unusual history, sometime-curious beliefs (at least to Westerners), and mystery. I suggest that anyone seeking inspiration for Tibetan adventure seek out the writings of Alexandra David-Peel in particular, as there's much to feed the imagination there.

My goal in this adventure was to cut the characters off from civilization, and to create a setting devoid of the usual comforts. In the middle of Tibet in the 1920s there were no phones, no modern transportation, no police, and no relatives or ready help of any kind (except that found in the location populace). I thought this fit both the investigative nature of the game (quiet investigation over seeking aid from the authorities) as well as the pulpy tone of this adventure line (when do Indiana Jones type adventurers going running to the cops?). And if some nameless horror slaughtered you in the wilds of Tibet, it might be a long time before anyone realized what happened to you...

The movie Hostel wasn't the greatest thing put on film by a long shot, but I do think the movie conveyed that fear of being in a foreign place away from the familiar. Touristas and a few other films that followed likewise tapped into this. When in other country you place by their rules, and sometimes that can be downright frightening.And we can of course find fear of unknown lands within in the bounds of our own country, as seen in Deliverance or The Blair Witch Project.

Lovecraft of course touched on this fear of unknown lands himself—unusual towns (Shadow over Innsmouth coming to mind first there), remote locations (Colour Out of Space or Whisperer in Darkness), foreign countries, Arctic desolation (At the Mountains of Madness), and even deep underwater environments (The Temple). Decades later, authors continue to combine unusual/remote locations with the supernatural/mysterious, such as Michael Crichton's Sphere or Preston & Child's Thunderhead. It's a most effective combination.

So if you run The Long Reach of Evil for your group, do treat them to a bit of sinister culture shock, Call of Cthulhu-style, before you allow the revolvers to be pulled from their holsters.

Grindstone blues

2011-04-07T17:28:00.008-04:00

Recently a debate of sorts has been raging about the length of combat in 4e. The argument is not about whether it takes longer than in most older editions (only 3rd Edition is really debatable) but whether long combats diminish the overall play experience.

As I've previously opined here, I believe they do.

I've read plenty of the "pro- longer combat" posts and 95% of them seem to raise two basic points:

a) if the combat is fun, what's the difference?

b) if combat is so long for you, run less of them.

Bah. I respectfully take issue with both statements above. Obviously everyone has their own preferred play style, and that's paramount. But neither statement holds water for me.

Let's take "A" first.

Combat is fun. As I've previous stated in this blog, it's an essential element of play. Remove the combat and you've removed much of the die rolling and much of the enjoyment. Let's face it, examine any adventure, even complex ones such as Paizo's adventure paths, and most are basically a long string of set-piece combats.

But the overall roleplaying experience is far more than combat alone, otherwise we might as well be wargaming or playing a tactical skirmish game or simply playing RISK. We want to exercise our brains as well as our dice-throwing wrist. And although choosing combat options and coordinating attacks between characters can involve some thought; exploring the depths of a new character, interacting with NPCs, and overcoming puzzles and non-combat challenges with friends is a huge part of the experience. For me, a near 50-50 balance is best.

Now "B" next.

I actually have run less combats when running 4e games, but out of sheer necessity. This change is not enriching my play experience.

In my experience, everal short combats do more to move the plot along than one grindingly long, let's-whittle-down-those-HPs combat any day of the week.

Playing 4e has forced me to all but abandon the wandering monster encounter, that fun on-the-spot test of DM imagination. My group's time is limited—and in this age of 30+-year-old players we're hardly unique—and we simply can't afford to "waste" a whole session to a wandering monster when more enjoyment would probably be had from a meaningful combat that furthers the plot.

And yes, I realize the point is simply to have fun. Who cares if it's plot-related, you say, if all have a good time? If that's the case, I suggest abandoning the traditional campaign and simply meet for the Fight of the Week Club. Each session the DM simply creates an interesting fight—no plot or reason or connection between them—to challenge the same group of PCs. I think most would drop exercise that rather swiftly.

We need more, an underlying reason for our combats. We could accept a "meaningless" WM encounter in the old days because it meant perhaps 15 or 20 minutes of play time. But now? Is it worth possibly losing most of a session to the experience?

I'm also a big fan of the warm-up fight, that beloved DM technique of letting the players roll some dice right off the bat to let off steam, which starts things on an exciting note and helps ensure they'll sit still for the descriptions or exposition to come. I've found that a first combat, right at the start of a new campaign, is also a great way for players to get a "feel" for their characters. But now, on at least 3 occasions, I've seen a first campaign combat gobble up the entire first session, leaving players & DM that had fun yet feel somewhat "shorted" by the experience.

In my circumstance, in which the players meet once a month (and we're happy to get that), I'm forced as DM to (re)consider how we're going to spend each 5-hour session. My goal is to pack those 5 hours with plentiful combat, brainstorming, intrigue, etc. I don't always get it all, but the overall experience should be a mix. I accept that groups that meet once or twice a week have more time to kill and may not feel this constraint, just as my 1e games many years ago allowed for much time "haggling in town." But as the game grows older so does many of its players, and time can become a precious commodity. I think newer versions of the game need to streamline elements of the rules to allow for this. (If, for instance, granting characters killer powers means the bad guys must have more HPs and that means fights become a grindfest, perhaps PC powers should be scaled down.)

That's my two copper pieces.

UPDATE

My peer, the worthy Mike Ferguson, comments here on this very same issue.

It's All in the Timing

2011-02-11T18:52:00.004-05:00

Recently the wise Ken Hart raised the subject of slow combat in 4^th Edition. Certainly this is not a new subject to you, gentle reader. I’ve seen numerous posts and solution posts addressing this so-called flaw in the 4e rules. I’ve seen other posts stating that the slow combat isn’t a flaw at all.

Here are my 2 copper pieces on the matter, taken in part from a recent e-mail I sent to Ken and other worthies.

I've read enough posts about the slow combat in 4e that I do consider it a flaw (especially as they promised at 4e's release that combat would be faster than 3e combat, which is blatantly untrue). Some contend—and it’s good argument—that the plethora of combat options 4e offers all participants more than makes up for the extra time, the basic idea being “If it’s interesting combat, who cares if it’s long?”

Recent blog posts by Mike Ferguson and myself examined some differences between 1e and 4e, in particular the boring combat of 1e versus the more tactical combat of 4e. I don’t discount this. The swing-repeat cycle of combat for fighters in 1^st and 2^nd Editions could get boring. But I think there is also the consideration of what the players accomplish, how far the plot moves along, and so forth. Dice rolling is all well and good, but D&D is a roleplaying game, and if a single combat dominates your session you’re getting too much roll and precious little of the role. The price of interesting combat should not be at the expense of the rest of the game, or at the expense of what have become precious hours of playing time for many older players.

For me, combat is a big deal—an essential part of the game—but it's not everything. 4e can taken a lot of (justified IMHO) heat about being overly combat-minded, and I think it's important to remember that those final combats can mean a lot more if the players have previously interacted with NPCs, made friends, exposed spies or turncoats, solved puzzles, explored new environments, etc. A 3-hour play session that is dominated by a single, routine combat doesn't allow for such things. It squeezes them out. And that hurts the play experience.

As an old grognard, I used to love the DM-challenge implicit in wandering monster encounters. Now you rarely hear about wandering monsters. Why? Because in 4e no one wants to lose an hour of play time to a random, non-essential combat encounter.

So why is 4e combat so long?

A part, say 25%, of the problem comes from player options—players deciding tactics and interactions and such when in the 2e days, as Mike mentioned at Emerald Lich, you just kept swinging away. Likewise, the DM has more critter combat options (though often less than 3e, particularly with regard to enemies with spellcasting ability).
In the case of our group, all roleplaying veterans, there is rarely any lag time. Every player generally know what they play to do when their turn comes, so I think much of the problem lies elsewhere.

I feel that the main culprit is enemy hit points. In my 1e adventure Training Ground (published in Dungeon back in the day) the big bad guy had 34 HP. A goblin underboss in 4e has 110 HP! A goblin! It do think it’s cool that players can be surprised at the toughness of a mere goblin (as my players were recently), but with that number of HP there's no way most combats won't grind on and on.

The flaw is thus: The 4e bad guys have a ton of HPs. Why? Because certain Daily powers or power/feat/racial combinations or a lucky critical can dish out enormous damage. Giving a boss 34 HP when a player’s 4^th-level barbarian might dish out 30+ HP in one strike doesn't seem balanced.

The problem, IMHO, is that 90% of the time you guys dish out 1-12 HP of damage—so the bad guys are stacked very high to balance a rare event. In most combats, any decent non-minion takes 8+ hits to down, which is makes for long combats, especially given that 4e encourages combats with multiple (and mixed) opponents. (Most of pre-4e adventures feature single opponents in many encounters, something that rarely happens in 4e.)

Assuming that your 4e PCs do an average of 8 HP damage per strike, that goblin underboss still takes 15 hits to down—and that doesn't factor in your misses or other opponents...

So what to do? Let’s slice down those hit points a bit. Minions aren’t a problem, but most other monsters can be reduced, depending on their role. Secondary creatures, those beneath the big bad, can definitely be reduced.

Let’s take a sample 4th-level encounter (balanced for 6 player characters):

Level 4 Encounter (XP 1,050)

✦ 1 goblin underboss (level 4 elite controller leader) - 350 XP (110 HP)

✦ 1 dire wolf (level 5 skirmisher) – 200 XP (67 HP)

✦ 1 goblin skullcleaver (level 3 soldier) - 150 XP (53 HP)

✦ 2 goblin warriors (level 1 skirmisher) - 100 XP (29 HP)

✦ 6 goblin cutters (level 1 minion) – 25 XP (1 HP)

We’ll leave the minions alone. The big boss and secondaries (his dire wolf steed and skullcleaver bodyguard) will have their HPs trimmed by approximately 25%. The warriors, being mere flunkies, will have their HPs reduced by a third.

Thus:

Big bad, secondaries = HP x 75%

Flunkies = HP x 66%

Minions = No change

So here are our revised numbers:

Level 4 Encounter, revised (XP 1,050)

✦ 1 goblin underboss (level 4 elite controller) - 350 XP (85 HP)

✦ 1 dire wolf (level 5 skirmisher) – 200 XP (50 HP)

✦ 1 goblin skullcleaver (level 3 soldier) - 150 XP (40 HP)

✦ 2 goblin warriors (level 1 skirmisher) - 100 XP (20 HP)

✦ 6 goblin cutters (level 1 minion) – 25 XP (1 HP)

If time allows, I'll run two sample combats using the same PCs against the standard and revised groups above and report the results in a future post.

Of course, this is only a start. Hit points aren't the entire problem. Dropping enemy hit points without a corresponding drop in PC hit points also has the potential to make life a lot easier for the PCs, but I'm not sure to what degree.

I'd advise against lowering PC hit points, but instead consider limiting Daily powers (to once per 24 period, regardless of resting*). Another option, possibly to be combined with the Daily limitation, is a slight decrease in XP awarded for "downgraded" monsters. Such downgraded critters can still dish it out, so I wouldn't recommend more than a 10–20% XP reduction.

*A rest would still be required between each Daily use, but the "new" Daily wouldn't become available until after midnight. So if the PCs got into a fight 10 minutes before midnight, there wouldn't be an automatic second helping of Dailies after the strike of midnight.

What are your thoughts about speeding up combat? Special skirmish rules for non-climatic combats? Changing some combats into skill challenges? Using number tweaks as suggested above? Something else? Or perhaps leaving well enough alone?

The Legion of Super-Minions?

2011-02-01T12:56:00.006-05:00

Recent experience DMing my 4^th Edition campaign has gotten me thinking about the minions concept.

Overall, the minions concept is an aspect of 4e that I really like. The idea of a mighty hero hacking his way through a horde of orcs like Aragon in the Fellowship of the Ring film is cool. It also allows the DM to present an interesting tactical situation: the hordes of minions (because, let’s face it, they rarely travel alone) can be dangerous to the player characters, yet they can be easily defeated. They are more bite than bark, as it were. It makes for an atypical combat situation and I like it.

It’s admittedly hard at times to get my head around the idea of 1-HP giant minions, but I mentally justify the idea by telling myself that the 1 HP is just a contrivance to ensure that one hit downs these guys, and that any character fighting giants should be at a level to do a considerable amount of damage in a single hit!

On the downside—and there’s always a downside to most RPG rules in my experience—as a DM I’ve grown to dread the inevitable player statement that is bound to come: “Oh, they’re just minions!” I don’t blame the players for this metagaming lapse; I could no more expect a player not to say/think this than I could expect them not to picture a striped horse when I say “zebra.” But I don’t have to like it.

I mitigate the minion “discovery problem” by mixing up my humanoids and making it difficult to discern minions, thus making it a trial and error process to determine which figures on the table might actually be minions. This helps. But still…

So recently I’ve toyed with adding concept of super-minions to my game.

What’s a super-minion? It’s a minion that lasts just a bit longer—two hits to be precise. Short enough to still have a minion effect in combat but long enough that players, when seeing that one strike didn’t do the job, will have some doubts as to what they face.

How to implement this? Giving each super-minion more than 1 HP, say 5 or 10 HP, isn’t the way I’d do it. That’s too much calculating for the DM. The real beauty of minions in 4e is the ease of the one-hit drop rule. No, something simpler is needed. I’d propose a two-hit rule. On the second strike that does damage, the super-minion falls.

Of course, this could lead to some oddities, such as a super-minion being struck once for 6 HP damage and staying upright while another super-minion is struck twice for 2 HP both times and dying. But this might contribute to keeping the players uncertain about what they face. Savvy players—and aren’t they all?—may of course determine that two-hits-and-down equals a super-minion, but hey, no system is perfect…

Comparing Editions: A DM's Perspective

2010-12-22T22:44:00.008-05:00

Recently (and fortunately) I was able to run a 1^st Edition session for my usual 4e group. Two guys couldn’t make it, so rather than have them miss part of the ongoing saga we switched to 1e. The guys indulged me and let me run an old Dungeon magazine adventure of mine, Training Ground, that was originally published in 1998.

Mike Ferguson's recent post on the session and his observations about 4e versus 1e inspired this post—consider it a companion post—so kindly go here and read his first. It’s a good post and contains some excellent observations.

Back? Great. I told you Mike’s post was a good one.

I’ve had the pleasure of DMing both editions this year, so I’ll offer my empirical evidence and observation from a DMing perspective. Like Mike, I’ve already talked a bit about the differences between editions (here and here), but DMing one edition a few weeks after DMing another really knocked some things home.

On a side note, their group did well in a brutal, trap-filled and sometimes admittedly frustrating dungeon. At the time I wrote Training Ground I was mourning what I felt was the demise of the old-fashioned dungeon crawl—world-spanning, political adventures seemed more in vogue at the time—so as Mike rightly observed, I definitely channeled Gygax when writing it. Bravo guys.

Back to editions…

1. Combat Length

What Mike said. And his 3-combats-per-4e-session is exactly what I, when DMing 4e, tend to expect. If you squeeze in four, it’s a terrific night.

One extra observation I’ll toss in is the hit point factor. Increased combat options and tactics definitely drag things out a lot, but usually our players know what they want to do when their turn comes. Likewise, I don’t puzzle over the monsters’ next moves that long. This led me to wonder, was it all about the tactics?

After this recent 1e session, I think half the problem is hit points. In our 1e adventure, which was written for 3^rd-7^th level PCs (about 30 levels total), the final bad guy had 42 hit points. A few good hits and he was gone. I contrasted that to a side fight in our 4e campaign where a goblin underboss had, like, a hundred hit points … and he wasn’t alone. No wonder the damn combats take so long.

I think the 4e monsters have inflated HP totals because some feats/powers or combos can deal a hideous amount of damage, and the designers didn’t want monsters dropping like flies. The result being that during most standard combats the monsters simply have too many hit points. Likewise the characters.

2. 1e PCs can dish it out but they can’t take it

Because we had only three players and it was a tough dungeon, I let the players roll up 7^th-level characters. On hindsight, they were very magic item-weak, but still I thought they’d be killers. Wrong, oh so wrong. The fighter had 49 hit points (not too shabby) but the thief had 28 and the magic-user had 20! And that was with me giving them maximum HPs at the first two levels and letting them reroll 1s after that! Yikes. Do you know the difference between a 20-hit point character and a dead character? About four good hits or two good trap hits. In 4e, four hits would never take out a 7^th-level guy unless major criticals were rolled.

On the flip side, there tended to be more misses on both sides than there seem to be in 4e. So in 1e, the hits seemed rarer but stung far more for good guys and bad guys alike.

3. I had to resort to a lot of ability rolls

Far too many times I found myself resorting to ability rolls. Was the PC trying to identify a historical name or rune? “Make an intelligence check!” I’d cry. I’ve grown so used to having skills and such to cover these things that 1e seemed lacking.

That said, Mike’s observation about having the players describe what they are doing or where they are searching instead of simple rolling is dead on. It’s the reason I rarely run 4e skill challenges but instead incorporate skill rolls into the action, as I did recently when their characters chased a kenku assassin across some rain-slick rooftops.

In the end, the experience left me craving a hybrid system. Instead of the endless hits, endless hit points, and looooong combats of 4e or the tactic-boring, PC-dangerous combats of 1e, I’d really like something in between. Something where a simple fighter has a few choices in combat, but not so complicated that I, as DM, must ask players exactly what their Flying Dwarven Hammerhand encounter power does or sit back and watch them puzzle over the timing of a combo. Indeed, since the old days I had desired what I called “maneuvers” but now I’ve seen character development take a back seat to players becoming powers obsessed. It’s time to rein things in a bit, I say.

In any case, it was a breath of fresh air playing 1e again, and it reminded me how far the game has evolved (determining the number needed to hit is so much faster now from the old THAC0 days) but also about some of the things I love that have fallen away from recent editions. It’s got me looking forward to more 1e play, both as DM and as player (still re-reading Lost City Mike?).

NaClaMomo: Reviewing The Temple of Elemental Evil

2010-11-28T14:37:00.015-05:00

For this installment of NaClaMomo, I'll tackle a favorite of mine (alright, yes, they all are) ... that uber-dungeon, The Temple of Elemental Evil. (I'll refer to it as TOEE going forward.) I've already covered The Village of Hommlet here last November, so I'll stick to the additional material.

The Temple was the long-awaited—and I do mean loooong—sequel/continuation to T1 The Village of Hommlet. TOEE has gotten both heaps of praise as well as some criticism over the years, both with good reason. This adventure has had more printings than any other TSR/Wizards adventure before or since, so there must be some "beef" there. Let's take a closer look.

Pros

1. Atmosphere

Holy smoke is there atmosphere here! Loevcraftian imagery abounds. Here is a mere part of the initial Temple description:

The myriad leering faces and twisting, contorted forms writhing and posturing on every face of the Temple seem to jape at the obscenities they depict. The growth in the compound is rank and noisome. Thorns clutch, burrs stick, and crushed stems either emit foul stench or raise angry weals on exposed flesh. Worst of all, however, is the pervading fear which seems to hang over the whole area—a smothering, clinging, almost tangible cloud of vileness and horror. Sounds seem distorted, either muffled and shrill or unnaturally loud and grating.

Your eyes play tricks. You see darting movements out of the corner of your eye, just at the edge of vision; but when you shift your gaze towards such, of course, there is nothing there at all. You cannot help but wonder who or what made the maze of narrow paths through the weedy courtyard. What sort of thing would wander here and there around the ghastly edifice of Evil without shrieking and gibbering and going completely mad?

The whole description is, to date, the most evocative description I've seen in an RPG adventure, period. And I've been reading these things for 30 years. Characters entering these ruins can expect a green light to smite the evil within (largely) without mercy.

2. Great backstory

In TOEE, the DM really gets the good stuff. In that I mean the secret history of the Temple makes for a great read, and presents a fully realized background in which the bad guys are evil, strategic, and play things to their own advantage. Iuz and Zuggtmoy are equally insidious, and they compete between themselves, yet each presents a challenge to good-aligned characters

3. It’s almost a complete ecosystem.

Somehow this dungeon combines some six competing factions into what feels to be a living breathing place. Clever players will play those factions against each other.

4. It has some great set pieces.

I love the “zoo” section of the third level. The leucrotta and umber hulk areas, as well as the laboratory and chapel areas are very cool. In fact, I’d easily name the third level as my favorite part of the whole affair, due to the number of unique and memorable rooms.

Cons

1. Production values

Production values were a little lacking in this TSR offering. The book is 128 pages long, but sports a mere 23 pieces of art (about a fourth of them repeats from T1). Some of the maps are also crude; after the great maps in T1 the Nulb and upper Temple maps are a disappointment and the other level maps also feature doors that look scribbled in. I will however give credit to Keith Parkinson for an outstanding cover that faithfully serves me as the best player handout ever (see below)!

2. It’s ponderous.

Enter small room. Defeat humanoids with meager treasure. Rinse, wash, repeat. The seemingly endless rooms of humanoids, especially on the upper levels, can get old fast. Today’s DM is advised to take a black marker to the map and simply strike a number of rooms on the two upper levels for sake of faster, more entertaining play.

Interestingly enough, I think the biggest flaw in Monte Cook’s remake, Return to the Temple of Elemental Evil, was a similar endless similar rooms approach.

3. It’s damn tough

No really. Some clues can prove maddeningly hard. The attrition factor is wicked, and there are a few encounters that are very deadly for their level (such as the earth elementals on Level One). The bad guys are clever. It’s the combination of all three that can prove very deadly indeed. Zuggtmoy’s tactics are very clever, and Gygax, in typical 1^st Edition style, isn’t afraid to make use of illusion or charm effects in helping the PCs find their way to an early demise.

One chamber contains a cloak of poisonousness, a super-nasty little item that resembles a black cloak, but if tried on instantly slays the wearer … with no saving throw! Ah, the First Edition days…

4. The Nulb section is lacking.

I’m guessing Nulb would have been T2, had T1-4 actually been released in four parts instead of two. I wish it had been, because perhaps—assuming the existing material were not simply divided up differently—we might have gotten a bit more Nulb.

The Nulb encounter key provides a mere four keyed encounters. And a crude Nulb map. That’s all. The rest is left to the DM to create. I’m all in favor in giving the DM a bit to develop and a hand in shaping the village, especially after the hyper-detailed Hommlet, but after having so very much of the rather tame Hommet described building-to-building and at times with expanded building maps, not getting more out of Hommet’s evil sibling Nulb seems a waste. At least one inner building map (for the waterside hostel for example) would have been much appreciated.

The Temple of Elemental Evil isn’t for everyone, but if your DM is up to the task of filling out things and editing a tad, and the players have a patient for a long haul of a dungeon, the rewards are there to be had. This very old-school gem contains lots of atmosphere, numerous dangerous and interesting encounters, cool magic items, and more villains than you can shake a stick at. All in all, a worthy investment and something that belongs on every DM’s shelf, if only for inspiration.

2010-11-12T11:03:00.012-05:00

I think this year I’ll start off NaClaMomo with a bang, by giving my humble take on a very unique Gygax classic: S3 Expedition to the Barrier Peaks. We’ll call it Expedition for short. The origins of this adventure harken back to Origins II and 1976(?) and the influence of James Ward's Metamorphosis Alpha, and TSR eventually published it in 1980.

Expedition tickles a special geek spot for me. As I mentioned in a different post, I’m not a huge fan of mixing genres. The result usually ends up—even well done, as in Rifts or TORG—as a chaotic jumble that tends to promote insane characters at the expense of defined atmosphere. Sometimes however, as in the case of Expedition or Talons of the Horned King, the author can present an RPG one-off that really works well. Gygax was no stranger to this, and he admitted to rare gunslinger or tech-equipped characters and penned two Alice in Wonderland-based adventures for good measure. Put simply, every campaign needs a little fresh air once in a while. Expedition provides fresh air in spades.

Pros

1. It’s a big sandbox.
I love sandbox modules. In Expedition, there’s a whole spaceship to play in! Lots of unique encounters and areas that can test a player’s roleplaying ability, as well as the ability to resist meta-gaming. Sure, the player knows it a ray gun, but would the character?

2. Cool critters aplenty
The starship nodule contains a host of weirdies, from the webbirds to berserk androids to the vegepygmies, not to mention a whole alien zoo! The unique nature of the “dungeon” allows for a host of new creatures without that odd feeling that comes from a standard adventure packed with too many oddball monsters. Adventurers entering this place can’t know what to expect, and neither can the players. That makes for very memorable play.

3. There’s nothing like it.
As mentioned in my introductory paragraph, Expedition is a wonderful breath of fresh air for any campaign that’s grown a bit stale or predictable. The adventure is scaled for higher-level characters, so there’s a great chance that the running campaign has grown long in the tooth and the players need a change, if only for a single adventure.

4. The tech goodies have limits.
Almost all the rayguns and powersuits and such run on charges, so after a while they become useless. Indeed many of the tech weapons found may well see action before the characters even leave the ship, further decreasing the amount of advanced loot the characters retain. The upshot is that the players get a taste of some powerful (and often well-earned) items but there’s little chance they’ll be around for many adventures to come and bedevil the Dm at every turn. Instead, the players are forced to decide when is the best moment to use the really powerful but short-lasting items, which is (IMHO) how it should be.

Cons

1. It’s a big sandbox.
There isn’t much of a mission here. Oh, the characters can try to close the starship doors and prevent further spread of the alien beasts, but that’s a secondary goal at best. Exploration and the possible acquisition of high tech goodies in the main show here. For those that enjoy open exploration, it’s great, but players that require that “I’ve defeated the Big Bad Guy” plot element will be disappointed, unless defeating the froghemoth can somehow qualify.

2. It’s damned deadly
Characters that are unprepared are going to get their heads torn off, either by rampant police robots, or the aurumvorax, or perhaps the dreaded froghemoth. Plus there are several more traditional creatures, such as the psionic-powerful intellect devourer, can present steep challenges if played properly.

Gary Gygax wasn't known for writing forgiving modules, and he certainly doesn’t make Expedition a walk in the park. Oh yes, any party that doesn’t hole itself up and rest in a quiet abandoned living quarters somewhere will certainly pay the price sooner or later. Probably sooner.

3. It’s not for D&D purists
It’s obviously not for those that dislike science-fiction elements in their AD&D game, to be sure. Though one hopes that players, lovable fools that they are, will try anything once.

4. It’s more work than it looks.
Like the D-series (to be covered another day), this module requires some work. There aren’t whole cities to develop here, but certainly the endless empty or near-empty rooms common to earlier TSR adventures are well in evidence here. The top floor in particular can be a snooze fest of abandoned rooms and skeletons unless a creative DM fills in the proper details and atmosphere.

I believe Expedition to the Barrier Peaks is a very special, one-of-a-kind module. Oft-imitated but never matched, everyone deserves to either run this once or, better yet, experience it as a player.

So what are you waiting for? Obtain this old-school wonder, dig out your ancient 1e DMG, and give it a spin. You’ll be glad you did, if only for the change of pace.

Bring on the Beholders

2010-09-22T18:55:00.008-04:00

There are a fairly large number of monsters that are both iconic and favorites of mine, yet I've never actually used them in an encounter as a DM.

Often this owes to their power; one doesn't pull a Demogorgon figure out of the box every session, after all, and there's a good reason most players have more experience with kobolds than storm giants. I've also run very few campaigns in which characters got above 8th level (especially in the old days when leveling up was a much more arduous affair), so usually facing powerful monsters simply isn't something the PCs can do.

Still, there's a few critters I've always wanted to use but haven't: beholders, catoblepases, umber hulks, su-monsters, to name a few. Other creatures, such as the purple worm, saw use in my 1st Edition games but not afterward in latter editions. The arrival of Second Edition in particular had a big impact, because giants and dragons got a huge boost (and have been powerful foes ever since).

This past weekend, beholders (yeah, two of them) entered one of my campaigns for the first time. No, the PCs were still low-level. It was more of a foreshadowing encounter, a little something to make the players think ahead and to alert them to the challenges ahead. Little fish in a big pond and all. After a little thought, I decided I wasn't going to be shackled every single encounter by that 3e and 4e "CR" mentality. My current group, as mentioned in my last campaign post, is a very sharp group and they're smart enough to know when to hold 'em and when to fold 'em. And in this case, they kept their heads down.

I can't speak for my players, but for me it was fun to finally plunk the figures down on the mat and play these far-from-the-norm uber-baddies. After a while, one gets tired of kobolds and such!

If you're a DM, I suggest you find that never-used favorite, be they high level or low, and find a way to work them into your game. You might just enjoy it.

Now where did I put that purple worm figure of mine?

It's an Open Book

2010-07-29T07:51:00.010-04:00

Next month I'll be starting up a new 4e campaign, and I'm pretty excited. I have an excellent group of players (which include several talented RPG authors, editors, and playtesters) and the group really has a wonderful vibe. Now the work begins ... but it's work of the best kind.

I'm creating a continuous campaign, which is to say a number of adventures linked together by a common plot thread in "adventure path" fashion. The campaign will be set in the Known Realms/Áereth setting. The plot is just beginning to come together, though I already have enough material on paper for 2-3 sessions of play. Where shall I "take" my players? Crumbling keeps? Deep caverns? Seaborne vessels? Aztec-style pyramids filled with worshippers of forgotten gods? Decisions, decisions!

It's been a long time since I've hammered out a campaign from scratch. A long time as in years. In my recent time-starved (and player-starved) years I've fallen into a habit of using modules or adventures from Dungeon for a few evenings play. This time is different—I shall create everything from the ground up. It's daunting, and exciting, and it reminds me why I enjoy DMing so much.

Playing the DM Role

At the time I started playing the game (back when dinosaurs still roamed the earth), I purchased a copy of the venerable "blue book" set from a store in New York City (no stores in my local NJ really carried it yet). My friend Brian, brave fellow, was willing to give it a go. Soon we sat down and ran our characters—a fighter (me) and magic-user—through Quasquetan. I still remember the first creature we fought (drumroll) ... a single giant ant.

I didn't exactly have the DM thing down yet, and I basically played while openly rolling up random monsters and treasure (the module left the room-inhabitants undetermined). It didn't matter, we had a ball. Soon thereafter we switched roles, with Brian serving as DM (only), and I did a solo(!) trip through the Tomb of Horrors. (Yes, that was insane. And my guy was low level, crazier still.)

Perhaps that first experience gave me a healthy fear of being a player (though doubtful, as it was great fun), but I really think my natural storyteller nature drove me to DM. Most of my friends didn't have a great interest in DMing either, so more often than not I found myself in the DM seat. As a result, I've grown most comfortable in that role.

My lack of playing characters, on the flip side, has rendered me rather self-conscious as a player. This year I've played a 4e ranger and much enjoyed it, so perhaps I'm shrugging off some of that. One hopes. But in the meantime the next great campaign project beckons, and I couldn't be more psyched. If they only knew what I was planning...

Getting LOST

2010-05-28T17:47:00.017-04:00

The television show LOST has certainly proved to be a thought-provoking effort, and there's gaming inspiration aplenty to be found there. Indeed, though I haven't read the work, Pagan Publishing's Final Flight seems to owe at least a nod to the show.

I don't think an actual RPG based on the show would work unless the players are unfamiliar with the show—in which case it might make for some great investigative/action gaming. (Future post on this perhaps...)

The heart of LOST, beyond its many mysteries and layered plot threads, was the depth of its characters. We were presented with a bevy of interesting characters, all with their own personal strengths and demons, and as a viewer I found myself rooting for most all of them, even as they disagreed with each other, sometimes made stupid (if very understandable) mistakes, and had conflicts.

POSSIBLE SHOW SPOILERS AHEAD - YOU WERE WARNED

****

The conclusion of LOST left many big unanswered questions, specifically the nature and origin of the island itself. Perhaps this was for the best. Like most, I yearn fort real answers and find out the whole story, but mysteries solved are, well, no longer mysterious.

When I was very young I learned a lot of magic tricks, and I still remember my profound disappointment when I learned the secret (which I won't detail here) of the famous linking rings trick. My reaction was along the lines of, "That's it?!? That's how it's done?" Since then, watching the trick is far less magical, as might be expected. In the case of LOST, I'm probably much better off not knowing how the rings link.

The final episode raised many questions even as it answered others. The final scene behind the credits may prove the most haunting yet, though I suspect it was thrown in just to get folks talking and doesn't really imply what some might think.

In that spirit of mystery, I offer a "dirty dozen" pressing questions:

1. What's up with Walt? Clare's baby? It was implied both were psychic/special. Was the polar bear in the comic a mere coincidence? (And speaking of, how did the polar bear get over to the main island from hydra Island? Swim?)

2. If Locke/Samuel was "evil incarnate" why would he become mortal when the stopper was pulled from the pool of light?

3. Why did the Black Smoke spare Mr. Echo, and then kill him later? Why did it appear as a horse to Kate? (Was a horse ever on the island? If not, how could the Smoke take its shape?)

4. Desmond—with difficultly—was able to remove the stopper because he was immune to electromagnetic events (and how did he get that way?); so how did Jack pull off a similar feat? Was it a power bestowed by Jacob?

5. Who was Jacob's surrogate mother? Who was Jacob's real mother?

6. Why were certain people (Miles, Richard, etc.) missing from the final church scene? Why that dizzy blonde Shannon instead of Nadia? (Was this because Nadia never visited the island? But Penny never set foot on the island either!)

7. Why did Daniel Faraday's mother advise Desmond not to gather everyone in the LAX reality?

8. In the LAX reality, Charlie described having an after-life experience but being "saved" by Jack. Doesn't this imply he was ready to move on from the LAX purgatory? (And why were all the other LAX details needed in purgatory, such as the gangsters, Jack's being married and then divorced from Juliet, etc? For closure?)

9. Who made the Latin annotations on the Hatch blast wall blacklight map?

10. Why was Dogen's presence in the temple supposed to protect everyone from the Black Smoke? What was the ash/powder that formed a barrier against the creature?

11. Why could no women on the island, save perhaps Clare and Russo, give birth? Is this condition connected to Jacob's surrogate mother?

12. What's up with all the Egyptian iconography? Why were members of the Dharma Initiative learning heirogyphics (which they were, based on blackboard notes)? Why the Egyptian characters in the hatch countdown device?

Bonus question(s): Why did poor Hurley suffer such bad luck associated with the numbers? How did the Dharma people know to stamp the numbers into the metal?

And the biggest mystery of them all: HERE.

So Long, Frank

2010-05-10T21:31:00.007-04:00

I'm sorry to hear of the passing of Frank Frazetta, artist supreme. This Brooklyn boy did some of the best paintings around, and I still remember people years ago purchasing fantasy paperbacks just for his cover art. Frank defined an art genre and inspired a generation of budding artists. He died at 82.

Shadows Gathering

2010-04-23T23:46:00.005-04:00

The third Age of Cthulhu adventure is out, and it's a doozy. Shadows of Leningrad takes your daring investigators to Russia, wherein dark works of art serve as a gateway to the slumbering power of an Old One, and madness and death awaits. It's 1927, a time of great change in Russia, and evil stirs. Check out a preview here.

Shadows was written by Mike Ferguson, one of the industry's best writers and author of numerous excellent adventures and supplements. I can't wait to get my grubby mitts on this one, and I humbly suggest that you, Gentle Reader, acquire it too.

Stage Fright, and Giving Voice

2010-04-06T22:00:00.006-04:00

True confession time: I'm not much of a roleplayer. There, I've said it.

I've seen three basic schools of roleplaying:

Either type (a):

"My swordsman insists the guard let him pass. If the guard resists, Torromir will run him through and keep going."

Also known as the mellow third-person.

(b): "I insist he let me pass. ''Come now, good fellow, let me pass!' "

I'll call this the mixed style.

or (c): "Hark! Worthy guard! Make way for a man on urgent business!"

Better known as the all first-person, or hardcore roleplayer.

I usually fall into the (a) or (b) camps. I prefer the middle road, a mix of in-character and third-person perspectives. Pure in-character speak makes me way too self-conscious as a player.

I recall some months (years?) ago playing with Adrian (of Goodman Games fame) Pommier's group. He had a healthy-sized group of players, both male and female, and the group fell pretty solidly in the (c) range with the occasional touch of (a) or (b). I sat down for the first time, not knowing most of the players at the table, and it was fairly intimidating.

For those that haven't had the pleasure of experiencing Adrian's DMing at a tourney sometime, let me establish that he's a wonderful DM—totally comfortable and confident, adaptable, extremely solid in his rules knowledge and as likely to give voice to a pious cleric one moment or a haggard beggar the next and make either distinctly believable. The players were good, the DM good, but the play style was an unusual one for me. It was a good experience, and it had been a while since I ran into a group that relished the role-play over roll-play aspect, or at least gave both equal measure. I soon shook off my opening jitters and eased into it as things went along. I came to admire the dedication of this group of roleplayers, yet I still admit it isn't my default style.

Growing up I suffered from a near devastating shyness—in my younger teens simply ordering fast food was something worthy of rehearsal (the beginning of The Godfather comes to mind)—yet many years later I went on to act onstage and jock a highly rated blues radio program. To be sure, radio is a different thing. The audience is unseen and rarely heard from (except via the occasional call-in). But why would I be more relaxed speaking to an unseen audience that numbered in the thousands instead of a new group of perhaps 8 people that shared my hobby? I still wonder about that. (And it should be fairly noted that my first one or two solo radio shows were sweat-dretched affairs.) I'm still no public speaker to be sure, but doing seminars at Gen Con isn't the nightmare I would have found it years ago. I take that as a good sign!

Several weeks ago I attended my last of a number of play-reading classes, taught by a wonderful fellow named Peter. In late April we'll resume classes. Peter, well accustomed to working with both experienced actors and amateur students, gently guides us through the paces of cold reading the parts, deftly interjecting every now and again or giving voice to minor parts in his strong British accent. It's been educational (not to mention enjoyable) on a number of levels. Reading from the various plays makes me recall my days spent a decade ago studying Shakespeare in Stratford-upon-Avon and elsewhere, reading the master's lines until they warmed to life (or, more accurately, until we warmed to meet them). Of course, reading plays now makes me think of gaming as well. (Okay, I'm a geek, I admit it, pretty much everything I encounter makes me think of gaming.)

In a similar vein, I have a very young son and I read to him nightly at bedtime. Giving voice to the characters in his books is also voice acting of a sort, even if my only goal is to bring a smile to the face of a 16-month-old boy. I happily ham it up and soon find myself smiling too. (Trying to give a unique voice to 12 different animals in one book is good practice for any DM!)

This recent combination of reading plays and books and giving voice to fictional characters—even if Elmo—has made me reconsider the way I game. In the near future I hope to take a short break from 4e to keeper a short Call of Cthulhu campaign, and a bit more roleplaying (if only on my part) might well help to establish the proper atmosphere, so I may stray into solid "b" or even "c" territory for a change. Who knows, I might even enjoy it.

So what roleplaying style do you prefer? Are you an a-, b-, or c-type, or something else entirely?

Does 4th Edition have Soul, Part II: Nostalgia

2010-02-09T22:24:00.006-05:00

Mike's recent comments here and at Emerald Lich made me reflect on my recent post about 4th Edition.

To be sure, nostalgia plays a huge part in the way I've viewed both 3e and 4e. I "grew up" with 1st and 2nd Edition. My first, influential experiences with the game took place with those rulesets (sorry Mike, I never used the red book!). By the time 3rd Edition came along, I had largely give up gaming for other pursuits and I looked at the new (3e) ruleset with both interest and detached bemusement when it was released. Indeed, I didn't actually purchase a new 3e Players Handbook for months; odd behavior for a once-huge fan of the game.

The newest version of the game is very balanced. Let's face it, 1e was totally unbalanced (sometimes purposefully) but in a way, for all the frustrations it caused (dead 1st-level magic-user anyone?) it was also part of the experience.

There was no sense of entitlement on the part of the players, no automatic assumption that every encounter will be fair or that every item of treasure will even out. Sometimes you fled because survival required it. Sometimes a rod of lordly might fell into your lap (until the DM later found a way to destroy it). Sometimes 1st-level characters died through no fault of the player, but you laughed or groaned and rolled up another one (a process that rarely took longer than 15 minutes). That very uncertainty, that very sense of having no idea what would come next, it was half the fun.

I look at the newer editions much in the way I look at the newer Star Wars movies. They have all the required elements and a lot of cool things—and I've warmed up to them tremendously after repeated exposure—but they simply don't have the "soul" of the first three movies in my book. I've asked myself if that's really because I was a teenager when the first movies came out. Star Wars was new at that time, there was nothing like it around. Special effects movies weren't a dime a dozen, with frantic Transformers trailers blaring on one's TV and all. I think the only "space movie" I saw before Star Wars in the theater was 2001: A Space Odyssey, so when that star destroyer first flew overhead in the opening scene of A New Hope I was hooked on sight. By the time the new movies came out, they had to compete with a pack of effects-ladden films that had been released over the past decade. I was older, more jaded. The original Star Wars rocked me because it was a great movie, but it also had no competition. Likewise, 1st Edition.

I think that's a good description as to the effect of nostalgia on my playing preferences. I still would like to see a less rule-heavy, less combat-heavy version when 5th Edition emerges (which I hope doesn't happen until 2015 or so), and acknowledging my nostalgic feelings doesn’t change these impressions. But to ignore nostalgia's impact would be wrong too.

I frankly don't know if any future edition will ever bring back that old magic (no pun intended). Playing older editions is fun, but I'm experienced enough to see the chinks in their armor. The newer editions inspire more power-building and meta-gaming for my taste. What to do? I guess there's really nothing to do, except gather a good group of friends and simply try to have fun without thinking too hard about it. In the end, that's good enough.

Pain

2010-01-22T17:58:00.008-05:00

One day, on a warm afternoon last August, I found myself exiting a friend's car after going out for lunch. As I cornered the sidewalk, I turned back to give a fast wave to his departing vehicle, and my left foot strayed about three inches beyond the sidewalk and snagged on a sprinkler head—you know, the small black pop-up type. Except this one never popped back down. Suddenly I found myself flying toward the pavement, headfirst. (Critical failure on a DC 8 Athletics check!) My immediate thoughts, in order, were basically:

Oh hell.
And I'm wearing my good trousers.
Guess I better protect my face.

Luckily, my vaunted (ha!) reflexes nearly match my clumsiness and I got one hand out. It wasn't enough to completely break the fall however, and there wasn't time to roll—I was simply falling too fast. My palm skidded across the pavement (that move always makes me feel like I'm about 8 years old when I do it) soon followed by my head. My chin struck the concrete hard enough to roughly slap my teeth together and my head snapped upwards. I rolled off to one side, feebly clutching my cranium while my ears dimly registered out a woman screaming "Oh my God!" It took a few more seconds to realize she was talking about yours truly.

I spent the next minute or two seeing stars—whole constellations in fact—before I forced myself to my feet. (Add spiraling cartoon stars above head with tweety bird sound accompaniment.) Several people assisted me into the building, and I flopped wearily down into one of the waiting room chairs.

The incident—from which I was unmarked and unimpaired 48 hours later—made me think about D&D game play. It made me think about how characters take staggering wounds only to leap back into the fray without a moment's pause. Highly unrealistic. But how realistic need the game play get? How much realism is worth the extra rules work? The PCs are meant to represent heroes, after all; Conan wouldn't sit clutching his head for several minutes if he took a similar tumble, I'm quite sure. On a more practical note, adding in rules for the pain characters feel is much like adding on to-hit or movement penalties because of wounds or fatigue, in the end it only penalizes the PCs when the chips are already down. Likewise, it adds yet another thing for the poor DM to track. The advent of Third Edition did introduce standard rules for stunning and dazing and the like, so I suppose a DM could add those on. But when to do it? Which wounds cause more pain than others? One could apply such effects only to criticals, but again that only pours extra salt in the wound (so to speak).

I feel in the end it's better to let the PCs truly be heroic figures, greater and stronger than those puny mortals that play them. Of course, a DM might add a few descriptive words about the pain caused by a particularly nasty wound every so often. That gets the player's mind working, which is always a good thing. And as far as added DM work, it's quite, ahem, painless.

Does 4th Edition Have Soul?

2010-01-13T21:54:00.008-05:00

It's been a while since the release of 4th Edition, long enough for me to finally get a good sense of the game.

There are many things I like. Many of the 3.5 problems or annoyances have been dealt with, such as ponderous grappling rules, uneven character classes, race blandness, overlong stat blocks, the "christmas tree" magic item effect, and the dreaded amount of math that goes into monster building and leveling. Sometimes for me, it's the simple things—like diagonal movement. The 1-2-1-2 rule wasn't hard to remember, but I didn't DM a single game wherein I didn't have to remind a player of it. Attacks of opportunity was another one that tripped up my players, and nothing irks a player like being told their PC got nailed when then thought him safe.

Many folks online have commented that the "soul" of D&D seems missing from 4 however, and I sadly must agree. I feel that way too ... but why? I've puzzled over this for a while now. Here are the reasons why I think my gut tells me I'm just not playing D&D (when playing 4e) anymore:

1. The death of too many sacred cows. Magic missiles that miss? No more vancian magic?

2. Too much player information/involvement. No, I don't believe in that "I'm the all-powerful DM" attitude, but there's a line. Putting magic items in the Player's Handbook crossed that line for me. Magic items should be fairly rare and wondrous, mysterious, and even potentially dangerous. Reducing them to a shopping list and asking players to create wish lists? Meh. (What's next, an Amazon-like website that suggests to players magic items their PCs might enjoy?) There's nothing wrong with a player conveying that she dreams of playing a mighty fighter with a magic sword or a wizard wielding a mighty staff, and the DM trying to oblige. DMs should try to please their players and let them live out dreams through their characters within the balance of the game. But wish lists? I say thee nay.

3. Forced monster organization. As a professional adventure author, I can tell you that 4e's monster system is a pain. The "let's set up groups of mixed creatures" can indeed make for interesting combats (never a bad thing), but the system makes it near impossible to create combat situations in which the PC meet a group of one type of creature (which need happen fairly often for realism's sake) or a single creature that isn't a solo. Do you want to have the characters in the sewers run into that random alligator? Forget it, the combat would be over in a second; best make it two alligators, one shambling mound, and eight stirges—never mind that those creatures would never realistically hang out together. (Some of the monster groups presented in the Monster Manuals are good for a hoot too.)

4. PCs are too strong. As a player I find rolling up new characters mid-adventure to be a pain, and I'm a notorious softie as a DM when it comes to killing off player characters, yet I do feel low-level PCs need to be vulnerable. That sense of vulnerability only leads to a greater sense of accomplishment later when the PCs level up.

5. Nostalgia. That sense of wonder is largely gone. I honestly blame this more on my gaming longevity than any game edition.

6. It's all about combat. I love destructive spells. Love 'em. When playing a 1st Edition wizard, I long to hit 5th level so I can add fireball or lightning bolt to my spellbook. But there are other things. The heavy combat slant of 4e's powers and spells can reduce handy roleplaying opportunities that can stem from using a certain spell in just the right way, etc. Roleplaying opportunities still exist of course, but the previous editions had spells or proficiencies that screamed for a dose of roleplaying every time they were used, and I miss those.

7. Excessive DM hand-holding. Ultimately any DM guideline is just that. Former versions of the game and even some hallowed modules—Village of Hommlet I'm looking at you—had some extremely lop-sided treasures. Either the players got crumbs of they were tossed necklaces worth 10,000 gp. But the parcel system breaks things up a bit too neatly, eliminating the DM's freedom, and player awareness of that system places unfair expectations on the DM.

Some of my reaction to 4e (and a lesser extent 3e/3.5e) is that of mixed blessings. I've always been a big miniatures user, and I've suffered from players (and DMs) "stretching the limits" of how far figures can move in a melee round, etc., so having a more miniature-oriented game was a blessing ... at first. Now I'm not so sure.

Likewise with feats and later powers. I always thought fighters should have a selection of cool moves to select from, but now it's started to leave me feeling flat. The ever-expanding list of powers has become like MAGIC cards (which probably makes sense given the company involved) ... more and more minor variations of the same stuff, with power gamers examining every detail to wring out the stronger options. I realize many find this system tinkering fun, a puzzle-like quest to optimize their characters, but to me the more time a player delves in the rules the less time they're actually involved in the play itself. The hyper-awareness of the rules that 3.5e bred by "rulifying" every aspect of the game extends to 4e, and as a player I don't want the rules in my face every second, I want to lose myself in the action. To some, the statements "I swing from the chandelier and strike out at the orc with my feet, knocking him back if I can!" and "I use my daily Juggernaut's Roll power to push the orc two squares east!" may be the same thing, but not to me.

Ultimately the soul of a game is in the play. Rules can be modified, play can be altered, and both DMs and players can tweak any system to find what works best for them. Does 4e as written have enough "soul" for you?

Happy Holidays!

2009-12-29T11:47:00.005-05:00

It's that time of year once again! A good time to be thankful for my many blessings and good fortune. This past year has been a crazy one, lots of ups and downs, and no small share of disappointments to be sure, but the RPG work is ongoing and I am endlessly thankful for my family, friends, and you, gentle reader.

Here's to 2010!

NaClaMoMo: The Hidden Shrine

2009-11-30T21:53:00.012-05:00

One of my top three favorite modules of all time is undoubtedly The Hidden Shrine of Tamoachan by Harold Johnson & Jeff R. Leason.

It's one of the first, if not the first, tournament module ever published as such (although it's worth noting that many famous modules—among them The Tomb of Horrors—first saw life in convention tournaments).

Despite its age, the module somehow blends many diverse concepts into a united whole and it also eschews the wild unrealism of White Plume Mountain and The Ghost Tower of Inverness while still offering an intense array of unique challenges.

Pros

1. Theme

Theme rules here. The adventure takes place in a pyramid with a heavy Aztec/Mayan flavor. The encounter areas are very detailed, almost over-detailed, and all the treasures and most monsters are tailored to fit the setting. This leads to some unique critters, such as a mummy-centaur. The setting is utterly immersive.

I always loved settings that transport you—not always literally—to a new place. The PCs should never feel like they can simply lean out the cave door into the sunlight whenever they please, the way I see it. That's why I like the Tomb of Horrors ... once the PCs enter, they soon have the feeling that there's no turning back until the ultimate goal is reached. I love that. This module does you one better, if played one way (there are two, to be mentioned later) the PCs are forced to travel upward in their bid to escape the pyramid ruins before poison gas lays them low. Yes, it's a bit railroady, but the creativity employed in the encounters and the multiple paths to freedom give the ziggurat a surprisingly unconstrained feel.

2. Balance

Name has a great balance of traps, critters, and puzzles. My own creations are fairly puzzle-light, but when reading works like this I'm galvanized to enrich my own settings with more puzzles the players can solve. Here they are such a crucial part of this adventure that players failing to think on their feet might well kiss their PCs goodbye.

3. Background Detail

The author here has done his research, and it shows. This dungeon wasn't designed or written in a week or two, I'll wager. I reads like a labor or love (as the best adventures do).

4. Cool NPCs

The module provides three tourney-ready PCs that fit well with the overall theme. A pity there wasn't a few more!

5. Flexibility

The pyramid may be entered from the bottom—in the tournament-style start the PCs are running away from bounty hunters in the jungle and are dumped into the pyramid's basement by a cave-in—or it may be entered from the top down by more exploration-minded parties. Thus, some rooms are detailed to be run from varying directions.

This author ploy succeeds in part, but IMHO the dungeon works much better if the PCs climb upwards because some traps and secret doors simply are oriented that way, and the pyramid encounters also seem to get more difficult as one ascends.

6. Cool Encounters

The encounters, as mentioned, are varied and all show creativity. There is a chamber where something with molten feet has leapt about and melted huge, clawed footprints into the floor. But where is the creature? Another area requires the characters to traverse a pit via jungle-gym style bars while killer plants hurl thorns at them. Yet another area forces inquisitive PCs into a game of pelota (in this case, a sort of Mayan soccer) where they must knock an dangerous animated ball into a goal or risk setting off a deadly trap.

Let's see. A room that fills with sand—check. A room decorated with magical mirrors—check. Huge mill stones tumbling Indiana Jones-style down stairways—check. Creepy undead and entombed vampires—check. There's even a distinct nod to Metamorphosis Alpha in one room. This one has it all.

Con

1. Age

The module shows its age in some respects. I spent much of my flight to the last Gen Con reading this module in the hopes of running it for the Goodman Games crew (alas, this didn't come to pass) and I was struck by the huge blocks of detail-heavy text the DM must wade through at times. A DM grabbing this off the shelf isn't going to run it well on the fly. Indeed, any DM thinking about running this should set aside a decent chunk of time to read it properly and understand all the encounters and puzzles. That said, I think the DM will find the investment well spend indeed.

I highly recommend this module. It may not be classic as far as having orcs and the like, but it more than makes up for that by pushing its chosen setting to the limits.

NaClaMoMo: My Take on the Village of Hommlet

2009-11-19T21:55:00.019-05:00

Ah, The Village of Hommlet! What better module to consider for NaClaMomo?

This module ranks in my Top Ten Classic Modules of All Time—full list to come in a latter post! I can't resist making a few comments about it.

This adventure was a masterpiece of old-school design. It's open-ended, with no overt hooks at all. The PCs are presumably at the village simply because evil once lurked hereabouts and they want to make a name for themselves. Aside from reports of bandits running the roads (don't they always?) there's little to go on, yet the ruined moathouse, a former bastion of evil, begs to be explored by the brave and perhaps foolhardy.

The module shows its age in some ways. Every NPC is written to have treasure in case the PCs decide to slaughter them. It's possible for several nights of combat-free play in the village and then WHAM, the PCs can find themselves in a meat grinder of a situation and die. Yet despite this, it's surprisingly easy to run and can be successfully used by new or newish DMs.

I ran the module a few years ago (not for the first time) and the players had a great time. They cut rather quickly to the chase, not seeing the need to interview every wainwright and fletcher, but the detailed locations and small mysteries stood the test of time.

Pros

1. The village is brimming with interesting personalities and NPCs just waiting for DM expansion. Moreover, there are plots aplenty here and villains abound. Some NPCs have the potential to be long-time allies or enemies.

2. The village has great "home base" potential and the PCs could realistically return to the village between adventures elsewhere. It's also located in a fairly civilized but interesting area of Greyhawk.

3. The infamous moathouse works well. It has atmosphere, a cool map, and it has a great mix of critters without feeling overcrowded. (In realistic terms, it is overcrowded, but it's easy to look past that simply because the dungeon has a great flow to it.) And Lareth the Beautiful is a splendid bad guy (his moniker alone is classic).

Also worth noting is the awesome illustration by David Trampier of the moathouse (see below), which corresponds to the map exactly. I love that drawing.

Cons

1. It's Deadly! I don't know if this is exactly a con, for me it's almost a bonus. Not because I enjoy killing off characters—indeed, I've been accused of being a "DM softie" no doubt—but at first level it's good for the players to get a subtle (or not so subtle) reminder just how inexperienced and, well, mortal their characters are. This has been lost in the era of 3.5/4e/"look at all my powers Ma!" and it's a shame.

The moathouse has a few real uber-baddies, which include two—count 'em—patches of strategically placed green slime, a killer crayfish (a very cool addition), and some heavy-duty humanoids. Lareth, the final bad guy, has an armor class of –1; that means first-level characters including fighters need a 20 to hit him! (It's mixed odds the PCs will even have magic weapons when they met him.) There's also a place where the characters can simply get lost in a warren of ghoul tunnels—presumably until they starve—if they take a few wrong turns on the map! Woe to the player that lets the giant rats lull them into a false sense of comfort!

2. As Mike mentions in his post about the adventure, the delayed release of the Temple of Elemental Evil left the poor DM hanging for years. One wonders just how many DMs created their own Temple, based on the name and few other details, simply because their players wanted to head there next.

3. The treasure is lop-sided. The villagers have almost nothing, the average treasure is often a number of coppers in a iron kettle buried beneath a dung heap. Yet the moathouse, as Mike also mentions, has a great deal of loot. (Where are the bandits getting all this anyway if most of the locals are so poor? Local merchant trains? Extra from the Temple?) Be prepared to cut the end-treasure in half if you want to maintain game balance.

4. A few things don't make complete sense. How did the moathouse start crawling with evil again under the collective noses of Rufus and Bernie, and the other agents of good within Hommlet? To be fair, the good NPCs are hobbled or kept otherwise busy so the PCs can be the stars, which is how it should be, but still...

If you're looking to start an old-school campaign and remember the true spirit of AD&D as it was first envisioned, break out your venerable hardcovers and give this oldy-but-goody a try. You won't be disappointed.

A Cthulhu Chat

2009-11-18T21:33:00.007-05:00

I got a chance recently to do a podcast with Mark Kinney of All Games Considered about Madness in London Town and gaming in general. Mark struck me as a great fellow and the interview was a pleasure to do. Afterward, of course, I couldn't help but think about why I didn't mention this or that, but I think I at least conveyed some sense of the process behind our adventure playtesting and such. Moreover, I'm humbled to be interviewed, period. I've interviewed a number of music artists in the course of my radio work, but it's weird to be on the other side of the fence, so to speak.

The interview got my brain in Lovecraft mode once again, and I immediately pulled a story collection or two off the shelf and began reading. I haven't explored many of the non-Lovecraft Mythos stories, so that's where I'm focusing now. Specifically, I want to read Ramsey Campbell's Cold Print (about which I've heard good things) and some of the early Lovecraft-inspired Bloch and Howard work.

A link to the interview can be found here. You might also wish to listen to my Goodman Games comrades Mike Ferguson and Ken Hart in the interview before mine chatting about their experience producing the upcoming Shadows of Leningrad (they certainly sound more lucid in their interview than I did in mine)—the link to their interview is here.

Thanks for listening!

This Year's Halloween Selection

2009-11-06T18:43:00.011-05:00

This was a busy Halloween, as the 31st marked the first birthday of my son Kai (how fast that went!), but I managed to squeeze in my annual Horrorthon. Ken Hart of Goodman games fame and my old friend James were on hand as I pulled out my box of horror DVDs and warmed up the DVR.

This year's selection:

The "Living Doll" episode of the Twilight Zone

"My name is Talky Tina..." I've always found dolls creepy as all get-out, and this episode was no exception, especially the chilling finish. Telly Savalas, sans lollipop, plays a great heel in Eric Strater, yet you almost feel sorry for the guy by the end, trapped as he is between a marriage on the edge of collapse and a sinister doll. June Foray provided the voice for Tina. I think the earliest occurrence of the dreaded doll-on-the-stairs trick I can recall was in an old Ray Bradbury story—I can't remember the name but it was during that period in the late 1940s when Bradbury wrote some fiendish stories about killer babies and such.

I recall many, many years ago crawling into the cubbyhole on the upper floor of my parents' home looking for something. It was our version of an attic. It was dark, dusty, and cramped. I was flat out on my stomach, pulling myself forward and ever-deeper with my hands in quest of that elusive item. I came across one of my sister's dolls, a heavy model with metal eyelids that opened and closed. Unbeknownst to me, the doll was made to work with a magnetic "wand"—if you waved the wand the metal eyelids flapped open, and if you touched the wand to the doll's chest the doll's arms would close and "hug" you.

As I neared the doll I stumbled across the wand and, not knowing what it was but curious, palmed it. Moments later I came face-to-face with the doll in the narrow cubby and as I tried to push it out of the way, my hand (still clutching the wand) touched its chest... The doll's eyes popped open and its arms closed around my hand in a tight embrace. To say I popped out of that cubby like a cork from a champagne bottle is about right. Only later did I figure out what had happened. Brrr.

The Simpsons TreeHouse of Horror III (which, by no coincidence, in part mocks the TZ episode above)

A great counterpoint to the evening's other chills!

"Eater" episode of Fear Itself

This episode concerned a policewoman who is part of a skeleton crew in a dingy precinct watching over a cannibalistic serial killer they are holding overnight. The environment was suitably frightening, but the episode quickly devolved into pretty standard fare. The stupid behavior of the protagonist didn't do much to generate sympathy.

Rogue

As killer alligator movies go, this wasn't horrendous, but the character development was sorely lacking. Why should I care about these people again? Because two of them flirted a bit? That said, the alligator effects were pretty good! I also thought the scenic shots of Australia—clearly taken on location—were fabulous and added greatly to the feeling of puny humans in the great wilderness.

"New Year's Day" episode of Fear Itself

This was a rather tame version of the standard speed zombie / rage zombie theme wherein a woman awakens after a long New Years party to a very changed country. I liked the way the flashbacks revealed glimpses of the evening before and the ending helped save the episode for me. At the heart of this was a really good idea.

Many thanks to my fellow film watchers for an enjoyable evening. Here's to next year!

The Game Closet of Doom

2009-10-22T20:42:00.005-04:00

I recently purchased a house, and implicit in that development was an agreement with my better half that I move all my boardgames to one location. Instead of, say, the living room, living room closet, the mutual office shelf, and various boxes salted all around. I now have my own (albeit small) office, a "man cave" in the basement, so recently I unpacked most of my boardgames and stacked them in the closet in two rather ungainly heaps.

Eventually I'll put some real shelves in there—the current situation resembles a Jenga game (which would be cooler if Jenga was in there) and I'm no doubt flirting with gravity-induced disaster—but it's kinda nice to see that heap of games within easy reach.

In addition to my favorites, such as Puerto Rico, Arkham Horror, RISK 2210, and Carcassonne, there's a few weirdies in there. Can you spot the old Cosmic Encounter?The Buffy game (hangs head)? The Divine Right Anniversary Edition? The Civilization game I might play sometime in the next life when I actually have a week of playing time to kill? No matter; I love them all.

I hope you too have a game stash somewhere. It's good have have a stack of colorful boxes that help us forget life's worries, inspire our imagination, hark back fun memories from the past, and promise good times in the future.

Growing a Thick Skin

2009-09-11T09:23:00.009-04:00

Part the RPG author racket is learning to grow a thick skin. For every great fan that compliments your work or happily asks if you'll autograph a book, there is also the flip side: harsh online critiques, reviewers with egos roughly the size of Brazil, and arm-chair critics quick to make uninformed assumptions or make insulting comments about your work. (Recently a reviewer made the assertion that I don't know the location of Scotland and England—two countries in which I spent months—apparently based solely on the fact that I used the word "glen" [a word that has long since evolved from its Scottish roots into the popular lexicon] to describe something in England. Big sigh.) This goes with the territory for any writer, be you Ed Greenwood or Stephen King.

I've always taken the good and the bad. Sometimes the bad still stings my pride, but it doesn't diminish the feeling I get when someone gets pleasure out of something I've written. Not even close. Attending this year's Gen Con was a good reminder just how many cool, intelligent people have taken the time to read my work, and for that I'm incredibly grateful.

That said, I humbly (but with a touch of sarcasm perhaps) offer up some dos and don'ts for prospective reviewers:

Don't ask a product to be more than it is. An adventure isn't a sourcebook or setting. Likewise, a sourcebook may contain only limited adventure material. We'd all like to get everything in every product (me too!), but such is life.

Don't assume the author has much input into the art, ad copy, product's title, or line design—they usually do not.

Don't assume intent of the author. Likewise, don't make the assertion the author did no research or rushed a product because you've discovered a mistake. Most all RPG authors do it for love of the craft, not the money, and every author I've met cares deeply about the product they put out. Remember also that most RPG authors are freelancers, writing on a hard deadline around a separate full-time career, family, and the other things that fill all our lives.

This brings to mind a true story. When my first adventure was published in Dungeon magazine back in 1997, one of the adventure handouts contained not one, not two, but three mistakes. (The handout in question was a short note to be found by the PCs.) I noticed this when my issue advances arrived. I hurriedly checked my original graphic, but it was fine—apparently the typesetter keyed in the text incorrectly. (A common error, which I have certainly done myself.) I contacted the editor and they decided to run errata in the next issue ... hooray! Dungeon rarely did this, so I counted my blessings ... until the correction graphic appeared in the next issue, containing yet another error. The moral: mistakes happen.

Don't allow your biases to get in the way. If you are biased against the game system, game edition, the company, the author or editor of a product, or the nationality of the author/editor, exclude yourself. You cannot write a objective review.
Likewise, do not allow your previous experiences with a company or product line to influence your review—judge the product on its own merits. (It's fair to refer to the overall quality of a line or company's releases in a review, but one should not show any bias toward the specific product being reviewed.)

Don't assume the play style of your readers matches yours. Not every D&D player prefers hack & slash -style play, not every Shadowrun player likes lots of net-hacking, and not every Call of Cthulhu player prefers a super-historic scenario over pulp-style play. Likewise, don't assume a GM purchasing a product is of your age or experience level; a customer can be a 14-year-old newbie or a 50-year-old veteran.

Don't say that an adventure could be better with a bit of tweaking. All adventures, even those written by Gygax, are very very rarely played exactly as written. Every GM has a unique style and will run things a bit different, so there's no need to state the obvious unless major changes are absolutely necessary to fill plot gaps and the like.

Do run an adventure for players before you review it. Writing a complete review based on a single read-through alone is rather like reviewing a film based on the screenplay, yet a huge number of reviewers still do this.

Do be fair. Acknowledge the good and the bad, and write to inform rather than as a mere exercise of sardonic wit.

Do know that authors very much appreciate you taking the time to write a review of their work! Reviews, fairly written, help the author hone his or her craft. I thank all those that take the time to write RPG reviews.

Top 10 Things Thundarr the Barbarian Taught Me About D&D

2009-08-28T23:51:00.006-04:00

10. A magic sword is always a good thing to have.

9. Raid your stepfather's library to learn new spells.

8. It's good to have a companion that growls and throws people around.

Fun trivia: Ookla got his name because the struggling writer passed by a UCLA sign.

7. Horses can safely land, with a rider, from any height.

6. Wounded old men you meet on the road can be counted on to impart information.

5. Bad guys tend to sneer the word "barbarian."

4. If you really need to get something done, a scream of "HaARRR-yee!" doesn't hurt.

3. Brute force beats out magic or technology!

2. Never trust a wizard ... they can be two-faced.

1. Barbarians kick ass!

There and Back Again

2009-08-21T19:31:00.014-04:00

My decision was made rather last minute, based on a whole lot going on in my private life, but I got out to Gen Con 2009—huzzah! This year's con was a good one.

My wow-this-looks-rather-small plane touched down Friday afternoon—shockingly on time—and soon I found myself walking down the Indy sidewalk and glancing over at the Ram as if I had never been gone. It felt good to be back. I scooped up my badge, stopped to say “hi” to some fellow editors/writers, and then headed off to the Rock Bottom for some beer, buffalo wings, and ribs.

Later that night I (gasp!) got in some gaming, playing Xcrawl with the gang. Brendan LaSalle, the game’s creator, was our GM and he runs an exciting, rousing game. You haven’t lived until you’ve swung a sword from the front seat of a bumper car in a spike-filled arena! Many thanks Brendan for an awesome time.

Saturday afternoon much of my time was spent in the dealer hall, working the Goodman Games booth and flitting around the show floor in my spare moments.

Catalyst was selling a lot of cool items, in particular their CthulhuTech line, which, as noted on the blogs of my colleagues Mike Ferguson and Ken Hart, looks pretty damn cool.

Paizo released their Pathfinder rulebook. Not alpha, not beta, but the real deal. It’s a hefty book, costs $50, and was up to their usual productions standards. If you hated 3.5e, you can pass that sucker right by, but if you prefer 3.5e “fixed up a bit” with house-rules (grappling, I’m looking at you!) this combo player/DM book might well be up your alley.

Business at the GG booth was brisk, and I got the chance to talk with a lot of our fans, which was awesome. Our real popular draws this year seemed to be the excellent hero's Handbook series (especially the brand new Hero's Handbook: Tieflings and Hero's Handbook: Eladrin), our 4e Dungeon Crawl Classics (especially our $2 module and, surprisingly, the Warbringer's Son tourney module), and Level Up magazine (the new issue was sold out Friday I believe). The new Age of Cthulhu line (which is close to my wicked little heart) also attracted a lot of interest, especially from many folks that hadn't pulled out their Cthulhu books in a while.

We had a steady flow of customers, and recession or no, even Sunday morning was shockingly busy. My favorite moment was when a very popular but not-to-be-named RPG author stopped by the booth to chat and rattled off details from an adventure I had published in Dungeon magazine some 12 years ago! It turns out he's run the adventure for friends in the past. I love stuff like that, it very much made my day.

Saturday night Goodman Games held our yearly “How to Write Adventures That Don’t Suck” seminar. The seminar saw a lot of really good questions this time around, and some of the attendees stayed afterward for more questions and discussion. After the seminar I retreated to the Embassy Suites for a competitive game of Carcassonne with the Goodman folks (tip: never play Carcassonne with Joe Goodman, he’s cut-throat!) after which Ken Hart twisted my arm (heh) into a second dinner (for me at least) in which I attempted to eat a pulled pork mega-sandwich (see photo) at the Ram.

Rick's purchases (man, I went light this year!):

About $12 of figures I totally don't need. Well except the aboleth. And the owlbear.
Mysteries of Mesoamerica (Pagan Publishing)
Bastards of Erebus (Paizo)*
Cthulhu dice (Q-Workshop)
A plush Cthulhu for my son Kai

*Featuring some very cool monsters by the talented Mr. Ferguson.

Was that really it? Blimey, I should have run through the dealer hall one last time.

Before I knew it, it was Sunday. I did a last cruise of the dealer hall, did a quick final shift at the booth, and soon I was racing for the airport to catch my 2:30 flight home. It was wonderful to get some gaming in and to really talk with a lot of folks this year.

Here's hoping I can attend Gen Con 2010 (or else 2011)!

A Little Madness is Good for You

2009-07-23T22:34:00.009-04:00

This week I was happy to see the arrival of my first supplement for the Call of Cthulhu game, Madness in London Town. This adventure is the second, after Death in Luxor, in Goodman Games’ Age of Cthulhu line.

The line is a difficult one to author. I always try to write a great, fun-to-play adventure first and foremost, regardless of the game system or ruleset. The AoC line adds three more layers of complication: sticking to the Lovecraft Mythos and feel, getting a good feel for the time period (1920s), and writing an adventure set in a foreign country. This makes for a challenge, to be sure. This project also coincided with the birth of my son, a time that any parent knows is more than a bit crazy (and tiring). I am however a huge horror fan and longtime reader of Lovecraft, so I attacked this project with a singular glee.

I soon found myself buried in research. I watched films about England, Googled up scans of old books, re-read certain Lovecraft short stories, and looked at endless photos and antique maps. I spent several nights just reading about British automobile companies and the models they sold. Well aware that Cthulhu players are a fussy lot—sometimes even overly fussy about rather trivial historical details—I did my best to litter the adventure with little tidbits. (An example: In one scene a description of an entrance of the British Museum casually mentions a bust of the Duke of Marlborough; at the time the adventure was set, there was a bust of the Duke standing there. In other areas—such as the amount of wooded land on the Salisbury Plain or the British Museum having “curators”*—I took liberties to benefit the adventure.)

*The curatorial staff are actually referred to as “keepers” but as the Call of Cthulhu game refers to its GMs as Keepers, I thought it best to avoid confusion.

Good CoC adventures have good handouts, in my humble opinion, so that was also a major focus of mine. I created many of the adventure's handouts and that was a blast. GG has a great group of artists and typesetters, but it was great to wear the design hat for this book.

England was my first choice of locations for this adventure. I spent some time over there studying some years ago, and I liked the country and its people so much that I actually tore up my return ticket. In the end (and luckily for England no doubt) I did return home after wandering the British Isles a bit more, but my love of the country persists.

Now that the smoke has cleared, I’m quite happy with the way it turned out. The adventure has insidious villains, duplicity and red herrings galore, and many old-style creepy touches. Some situations (such as a badly-placed mirror in one scene) were taken directly from frightening experiences I’ve had or odd things I’ve seen. I tried to touch on the multiple facets of horror: blood spatters, crawly wriggling things, mannequins that move when you’re not looking, creepy objects, etc. I also had fun in places trying to evoke a Lovecraftian style of prose (which is to say overly descriptive but creepy).

Thanks to my wonderful playtesters: Steve Crovatto, Mike Ferguson, Ken Hart, Dave Nicolette, and Willie Wahington (extra props to Mike for Keepering and getting Henry Prichard's vocal tics just right). Thanks also to Eddie Sharam for a great cover and for being receptive to my art suggestions.

Writing this book was probably the toughest assignment I’ve had in a while, but it’s the kind that has you grinning enough while you do it to make passerby wonder about you. It was that best type of project because it's an effort but it's also great fun in the process.

I hope you enjoy the adventure. Better yet, I hope your investigator survives it.

That Time Cometh

2009-06-19T21:39:00.012-04:00

Oh yes, it barely seems like a year has passed, but Free RPG Day is upon us again! This Saturday, June 20th is the day, so be there.

Started by Goodman Games, Free RPG Day is simple: visit your FLGS (friendly local game store, but you knew that already) and pick up free stuff. Simple as that. It's a great way to encourage visits to that vanishing breed, the game store. And hey, while you're at it, support them. You need not buy anything to get a free goody or two, but why not support your local store while you're there?

I shop online as much s the next guy, RPG stuff included. But I sorely miss my vanished game stores. There's something special about visiting a brick & mortar store and actually flipping through that new game supplement or hefting that latest Fantasy Flight Games (free plug) board game monstrosity, not to mention the open gaming (which a surprising amount of stores still offer).

So visit your local store(s) and grab some free booty! Hey, maybe I'll see you there.

Chocolate in My Peanut Butter

2009-06-06T00:33:00.014-04:00

Years ago in college I edited the school paper. My mentor was a professor nicknamed Tinker, a grizzled old newspaper woman who ran the paper with a firm but kind hand. Every semester it was the same: a student would arrive, new to the paper, and ask about submitting poetry. Tinker would immediately take charge and always forbid the inclusion of poetry ... it was a newspaper, dammit, and that meant just the facts, except for the Sports or Op-Ed pages. The student scurried away, a few months would pass, and another student would show up... I thought to myself, wow, this lady hates poetry.

Later, as I got to know Tinker better (a far nicer woman than she probably sounds here), I discovered that not only did she love poetry, but she had several published books of verse (and not vanity press stuff, mind you).

I asked her once about it, even though I really knew the answer by then, and she said, "Poetry is beautiful, but it belongs in the literary magazine."

Old grognard that I am, I've grown to view my D&D much the same way.

I love horror movies. Love 'em. My favorite board game at the moment is Arkham Horror. I enjoy the Call of Cthulhu RPG, indeed I recently authored an Age of Cthulhu adventure, so I have no dislike of horror games. But too much horror or "grim-darkiness" in my D&D leaves me, well, meh. That trend has gotten old fast.

Likewise, I'd jump at the chase to play the original Star Frontiers game (ears perk up Mike?) or Gamma World (man, I used to dig that game) but mixing science-fiction elements with my D&D likewise leaves me cold. I'm not talking about short adventures for a change of pace, mind you, such as Expedition to the Barrier Peaks or Mike Ferguson's excellent Talons of the Horned King (soon to be released in a 1e version at Gen Con!)—those can be great fun. I'm talking about a steady diet. It's just not my style. I'm a similar stick in the mud when it comes to Gnome gadget-makers, Dwarven railroads, steam rooms, or other non-medieval technology showing up in my game.

I've watched at least one cool History Channel special about the clever use of steam-driven statues in temples by the ancients to fool the faithful, so I know some interesting technology was certainly used in the past, but for me it just isn't what my game is about. A magic electrified floor square? No problem. Electric wires booby-trapping the floor? Don't want it ... even if the end-result is the same.

You see the trend here. I'm all for having a few laughs during the course of play. You thief blew three Climb checks and fell through a window and landed atop the mayor... that's pretty funny. But in-game gags? Yeech. Just play Paranoia already! Again, one-offs like Gygax's Wonderland-inspired modules are fine, but I don't need silly goblins or joke-cracking ettins.

I guess this makes me sound a bit close-minded. I tend to view it as the opposite ... my D&D isn't so boring that I need to mix in everything but the kitchen sink to keep it fun. I get along fine letting my imagination run with the "standard" fantasy concepts (if there is such a thing as standard in this genre). Of course, to each their own ... I've seen a lot of crazy campaigns out there, and some of them were pretty cool. What about you? Like some chocolate in your peanut butter from time to time?

Make Way for the Orcs!

2009-05-23T23:13:00.015-04:00

It's out:

Monstercology: Orcs represents my longest solo work to date at 50,000+ words. This project was a hard effort, and it taught me my limits in how many quality words I could write in a day. In the second half of this project I hit that beloved zone, that hole in the paper writers fall into when they're really cooking ... every night I would stop writing, check my word count, and exclaim the new total out loud, amazed at what had flowed into my humble, ever-expanding Word document. I love that feeling. The writers out there know what I'm saying when I say there are times I'd pay to make the words flow like that. (Toward the end of this project, every night I lined up a row of plastic orcs on my computer monitor and I would later knock one off for each 1,000 solid words written—if I didn't make good progress, the orcs "won" and were added to the next night's row. I took great pleasure in defeating the orcs in hordes later on!)

I'm real happy with the way this turned out—it somehow has a huge amount of creative fluff and yet when one flips through the book one runs into lots of 4e crunch: orc variations, new weapons, new feats, paragon paths, etc. I also stuffed a full-blown lair in the back of the book for good measure. I was trying for a 60:40 fluff/crunch ratio and I think I came pretty close. The new Monster Manuals in particular have virtually no fluff, IMHO, and I definitely wanted to provide details that could both extend a DM's knowledge of this very classic monster and also give them a few plot hooks in addition to the crunch.

My favorite part of the book was actually the fiction intros for each chapter. Early on I conceived the idea, based on my memory of a Forgotten Realms Cult of the Dragon supplement written by Dale Donovan. The supplement wasn't particularly memorable from a rules standpoint, but I thought the fiction snippets, written in serial form, of an ego-strong dragon falling under the sway of the cult and becoming a dracolich was wonderful, wonderful stuff. As it turns out, my project manager, Harley, had good memories of the fiction in that book too, and let me run with my concept. Making the fiction blend into the chapter concepts the way I liked was a challenge, but in the end I think the fiction works and adds the right flavor.

And hey, while I'm going on here, I'd like to give due props to the talented Ben Wootten for a wonderful cover. That hulking guy is bad-ass!

I'm curious to see how readers like the book and to hear their take on it.

Favorite Critters From the Monster Manual II (1983)

2009-04-19T14:29:00.016-04:00

Continuing on, let’s take a look at some more monsters. Flipping through this book again, I was actually shocked just how many great creatures are on offer here. It really makes the 4e Monster Manuals looks rather sterile in comparison. Instead of a bunch of bloodied and shift powers, we get a whole range of special spell-like abilities and attacks. Call me a grognard, but this book has aged well.

That said, the MM II was a dumping ground (in the best sense) for the best creatures from various classic modules. Some modules—S4 The Lost Caverns of Tsojcanth and I1 Dwellers of the Forbidden City in particular—brought a host of enduring creatures to the game (you can thank the named modules for the aboleth, behir, and yuan-ti, among others). This makes selected my top ten really difficult … it’s like picking the top 10 Beatles songs, there’s just too many. Anyway, let’s give it a go…

My selections in alphabetical order:

1. Aboleth

These critters scream H.P. Lovecraft to me. They are totally alien in nature and weird—exactly the non-humanoid sort of creature that are perfect for underground romps when you are tired of using the Drow.

2. Behir

I love these guys. Love ‘em. The Erol Otus illustration on the cover of the aforementioned S4 is probably one of his best, and it sold this creature for me. It was a happy day when I got a behir figure in a random figure pack; by weird coincidence I got an identical figure as a birthday present that same day, so woe to the party that explores my dungeon one day and runs into a mated pair of these dangerous, unique monsters!

3. Bodak

Deadly, deadly, deadly. Forgive the dreadful MM II illustration. I love the simple background: “A bodak is a human who was changed to a monster after venturing somewhere upon the Abyssal Planes where mortals were not meant to be.” Stupid mortals!

4. Cave Fisher

Cave fishers make for great set pieces and scenes, allowing a DM to add a fear of heights or three-dimensional tactical element to combat as fishers on high underground ledges haul up hapless adventurers. Of such things are great stories made.

5. Cloaker

Again, here is an alien monstrosity with a cool set of attacks: envelop while holding off assistance with a swinging tail club.

6. Derro/Duergar

These evil small folk are flip sides of the same coin, yet very different. Both serve as a nice balance to the Drow. The elaborate weapon tactics of the derro are the sort of thing you rarely see detailed today in RPGs, and they help to set the race apart. Later editions focused strongly on the derro’s inherent trait for madness, which was a fine addition.

7. Dracolisk

I’m not huge fan of hybrids, as they usually strike me as unfair DM creation meant to kill adventurers. This and Gygax’s greater basilisk (in this same tome) were clearly designed as PC killers—the greater basilisk has a pertrifying gaze plus poison gas breath, for crying out loud!—but I always liked this particular hybrid for some reason.

8. Gibbering Mouther

Totally bizarre and Lovecraftian, with a cool set of special abilities. Always a challenge to fight.

9. Russet mold/Vegepygmies

Not only do vegepygmies represent a unique life form, but if you, as an adventurer, are careless you can become one. They were a great addition to S3 Expedition to the Barrier Peaks and a monster that didn’t strike me as a humanoid you could reason with.

10. Yuan- Ti

To me, these snakemen evoke that primitive fear of reptiles—cold, unemotional creatures that will simply consume you if needed. The yuan ti, in my view, evoke the pulpy Conan stories of Robert E. Howard and they are a great villain for those out-of-way places, such as desert cities and similar locales.

So those are my personal favorites? What are yours?

The Coolest Monsters You’ve Never Used

2009-03-25T19:22:00.014-04:00

There’s a great many neat monsters in that original Monster Manual that I never used, but oh, how I wanted to. I don’t know why they never came up; it certainly wasn’t because of any aversion on my part. Perhaps they were simply too deadly, the wrong level, etc.

In alphabetical order:

1. Catoblepas

I always liked this monster, not sure why. I can see the warthog-like nature turning off some DMs, and it doesn’t fir in well with most enclosed (read: dungeon) environments, but I think the ultimate killer for this beast was its pure deadliness.

Among the Hisperies and Ethiopians is a well, that many men trow is the head of Nile, and there beside is a wild beast that hight Catoblefas, and hath a little body, and nice in all members, and a great head hanging always toward the earth, and else it were great noying to mankind. For all that see his eyen, should die anon, and the same kind hath the cockatrice...

—Bartholomaeus Anglicus,
13th century CE
De proprietatibus rerum, book 18

Despite the limited chances of it raising its head, it basically amounts to a single DM roll spelling instant death for any character, regardless of level. (Novel thing that, in this 4e age!)

2. Intellect Devourer

My love of this one rides solely on a great Dave Trampier illustration and the idea of this thing clawing away while it mentally assaults you. The “headless” look of the monster adds to its overall weirdness, ass does its brain like “face.” If seen a few updates of this critter, so I guess for love for it is not a rare thing.

3. Leucrotta

My favorite on this list, hands down. These guys, to the best of my knowledge, appeared in just two adventures (Wandering Monster tables notwithstanding)—Temple of Elemental Evil and a side trek in Dungeon called “Their Master’s Voice.”

The combination of a jackal-like look, the weird mouth (which is based on the original myth), and their voice trickery is awesome. Mike Ferguson does a splendid update of these in Paizo’s Second Darkness adventure path (I adored the illustration Paizo used too); well done Mike!

4. Peryton

This monster looks a trifle wacky, it’s true. But a great many medieval mythical beasts are total patchwork affairs, some far worse than this. It always seems like a good wyvern substitute to me—a creature suitable for mountainous ledges and such. The cool idea of it craving hearts is a bonus. And am I the only one to notice that its shadow is shaped like a human?

5. Su-Monster

These guys begged for a good jungle habitat and a suitable opponent. Savage? Check. Intelligent? Check. Psionics—what? Check! A very cool and unique critter, and I pity the fool that mistakes one of these for just another primate.

Well there you have it. What are your favorite but least-used MM beasts?

My Top 10 favorite Monsters From 1st Edition

2009-03-08T14:40:00.013-04:00

There are some very obvious, iconic monsters I’m leaving off this list for (what I hope are) obvious reasons—I don’t think the gentle reader needs me to explain the importance of red dragons or orcs in D&D! I’m sticking to the original Monster Manual here, no MM II or Fiend Folio creatures allowed (next post perhaps).
Okay, here we go (in alphabetical order):

1. Beholder

Weird, alien, and badass, these D&D-original creatures could easy take on a whole party and yawn about it afterward. I also love the fact that they are very intelligent and could very well serve as evil masterminds in a campaign. Ed Greenwood’s Forgotten Realms also seemed to give beholders credit for being movers and shakers. To this day I’ve never run one as a DM—never had a party that could survive one—but I really, really look forward to that day.

2. Carrion Crawler

This monster works well for those times where the DM needs a mindless creature with which to threaten the party—it beats out giant ants by a long shot. I always thought giant insects were cool—too many viewing of THEM! on the late show growing up no doubt—and this one fits the bill nicely. (I was greatly disappointed to see they didn’t make the 3.5 SRD!) The Anhkheg makes a very close second place for fictional insect-type monster, but for me the carrion crawler is extremely iconic of D&D (and that’s probably what kept it out of the SRD).

3. Gelatinous Cube

Iconic and deadly. Despite a relatively low hit dice, these babies could sneak up on lone adventures, paralyze them, and consume them before anyone realized it happened. Also, the idea of a vaguely pinkish cube (containing a visible skull or to perhaps) gliding down a dungeon hall always reminded me of the Blob, and that’s pretty creepy. They’re relentless, and they won’t stop to bargain or parley … after all, they only want to consume you…

4. Ghoul

These undead were all-around useful in a campaign. They are a good challenge for low-level parties, but dangerous enough to use with ghasts or as undead backup at later levels. The fact that elves were immune to their touch always gave the elves in a low-level party reason to shine too.

5. Gnoll

Many of the D&D humanoids suffer from an identity complex—they’ve been draw many ways by many artists and players & DMs have defined them in their own terms, which often don’t agree. For instance, how do you picture kobolds? Little evil devil guys like in the original MM drawing? Little doglike or monkeylike guys? Or lizard-like humanoids a la 4e or Paizo’s products? You understand my point.
Gnolls however have always had a fairly consistent presentation. They seem different from the other humanoids, they prefer warmer climes and open plains, and they have the added bonus of demon worship (and Yeenoghu—which I tend to pronounce YEENY-goo instead of Yen-Oh-goo—has long been a favorite demon prince of mine).

6. Green Slime

See Gelatinous Cube.
Very deadly! The Moathouse dungeon in T1 The Village of Hommlet had two of these … in case the first one missed. Charitable, E. Gary Gygax was not.

7. Mind Flayer

Ah, the dreaded illithids! They might well top the beholder in the alien-feeling role, but they serve many similar functions. What did they want? How do they interact with the Drow and other underground races? These questions were left wide-open for the enterprising DM.
The rare character that had psionics knew they wouldn’t graduate as a real power player without exchanging mind blasts with one of these underground weirdies.

8. Troll

A troll could have been almost any concept initially, but the tall, green, regenerating monster of the MM was distinctive and primal. Gygax always descibed them as having nests of bones and trash, which immediately let the DM know exactly how "evolved" these brutes were. Beyond that, the picture of a troll head still trying to bite after decapitation was a vivid image indeed, crowning these guys the kings of regeneration for al time.

9. Rust Monster

I love these propeller-tailed guys. For a monster based on a plastic toy, rust monsters provide a unique threat: something that cannot hurt characters physical at all, yet they can be greatly feared.

10. Stirge

Another wonderfully variable monster. Fine for 1st-level encounters in small numbers, but fearsome indeed in large schools (or whatever a group of stirges is called— a school of ravens is actually called a murder of ravens, which might fit well here). It basically a monstrous mosquito, but this creature alwys seemed very real to me and I never had trouble imagining them.

It’s come to me that nearly all my favorites are creatures created almost whole-cloth for the game, though stirges originate from Italian myth and gnolls from Lord Dunsany and his gnoles. I’ve only listed my favorites here, not what I feel are the most practival in a campaign.

Next time: The Coolest Monsters You’ve Never Used!

My Favorite Monster

2009-02-27T18:54:00.007-05:00

Coming soon: My list of favorite original monsters!

(Props to Erik Mona for the idea.)

But in the meantime, here's my real favorite monster:

The Smell of Dust is the Smell of Death

2009-01-29T22:39:00.016-05:00

On review, this post came off a bit snarky. Sorry about that, it's been a long week. You were warned.

I'm a big believer in FLGSs, or Friendly Local Game Stores. When I'm in the mood to buy a game product and have some cash to burn, I want to go heft that boardgame, flip through that module, or debate which pack of CCG cards feels luckiest. It about the environment—a 'we get it" atmosphere that can't be found anywhere else, save perhaps Gen Con.

Despite living about 30 minutes from New York City, game stores are in short supply for me. (On the flip side, maybe that's the problem: there's way too much to do out here.) When I find a new store, its a rare treat. Like many others, I'll also take what I can get, even if it's the really-a-comic-store-but-we-have-a-few-RPGs type of place.

I've seen a few FLGSs crumple in my time, usually a sad, slow death that is basically painful to watch. Two stores I frequent—neither I'll name—seem to be following this fate right now. Bummer. Yet some places seem to do it right. Some highly opinionated points I'd offer for FLGS success (bearing in mind I have zilch experience running said establishments):

1. Keep the stock fresh.

Get in regular new stock if it is available. Have a "New Arrivals" shelf. Don't make me hunt for the new stuff, it doesn't attract me to the old stock I push aside. Some days I only have time for a quick stop, and a quick discovery is a quick sale.

Don't swear off a line because a single book doesn't sell. I've seen it so many times—a store begins to carry a line, a book or two from that line doesn't fly off the shelf, and wham, no more new arrivals. Perhaps I've already got that book and I'm looking for the next. You never know.

2. Keep the "F" in Friendly-LGS.

This sounds like a no-brainer, but there it is. Be nice. Offer assistance, then back off. Don't follow me around the store, haunting me like a ghost, but don't ignore me either. I once walked into a FLGS, selected a $60 boardgame from the shelf, and then waited in vain for 15 minutes at the front counter to be acknowledged. I wasn't. I walked, and the $60 stayed in my jeans. Not good for your business, and not good for my attitude.

3. Diversify.

Think about mixing in non-RPG goods with your stock. I'm not talking totally left field here, but RPGers share a lot of similarly geeky interests. Show me 5 guys that play D&D, and I'll gamble one's a horror fan, one likes graphic novels, one plays the boardgame Descent, one owns a Playstation or X-Box, and at least one's an avid reader. Stock a bookshelf with fantasy novels and perhaps some thriller or horror fiction. Carry some graphic novels. Stock some toy figures (McFarland, etc). You get the idea. For geeks like me, it's one stop shopping. And hey, if the latest Pathfinder I'm seeking isn't there, I might buy the latest copy of Walking Dead or a boardgame instead.

4. Allow some "geek space" but keep your geeks in line.

Most stores are good about this. A FLGS is a safe haven for roleplayers, so allocate some space for them to throw down some dice.

That said—and I hate to say this but it's true—control your customers. Every other game store I enter seems to have at least one fellow that's bellowing at the top of his lungs about his female elf wizard character or pinning me up against the wall in an unrequested conversation telling me the glories of his favorite game system with his nose 6 inches deep into my personal space. Not cool. It's worse if I bring my better half along with me or, worse yet, her parents. (And yes Virginia, it happens. I've gone on family trips out of state and had to enter newly found FLGSs with unexpected company!) In fairness, customer behavior isn't the sole responsibility of the FLGS.

5. Keep the place tidy.

Hence the title of this post. I used to find the smell of dust in game stores quaint. Now it makes me want to bolt. Hefting a game book from the shelf with a half inch of dust on it just makes me feel like I'm accepting someone else's leftovers. Even if you've had it in stock for 6 years, unless its an original Fiend Folio or Dragon #20, I don't need to know that.

Here's to all the great FLGSs out there. I love you guys, and I hope you all easily weather the current economic situation and keep rolling for years to come.

Geek Gifts

2009-01-10T20:38:00.024-05:00

The thing about being a gamer is that we love our toys. Not necessarily our cars—though I had a red sports car in my youth—but our toys. You know, those little things that scream "Gamer!" when non-gamer folk see them. The Dark Knight calendar on your wall? That McFarland dragon sitting on your shelf? That Cthulhu bust in lifelike green? Geek toys.

Now that I've reached my forties (gasp!), I've pretty much informed my wife that she is my last bastion for the holiday or birthday "geek gifts"; my family can lower themselves to the occasional DVD, but that's about it—otherwise they ask what clothes I want. Now don't get me wrong, I've long since entered the realm in which clothes, home gadgets. and other practicalities are something for which I can happily shop—as a new father I even take real enjoyment picking out baby clothes, gods help me ("Isn't that the cutest?")—yet there's a certain boyish charm to knowing that there might be a boardgame or GM screen or miniatures pack under the Christmas tree.

This year's guilty pleasures included:

The Zombie Survival Guide by Max Brooks.

I loved Brook's World War Z; after seeing the title pop up again and again in my Rue Morgue -style readings, I finally broke down and bought this great work. I had never heard of the author, but damn if he didn't bring a thoughtful, fresh take to the zombie genre with that work.

I'm a self-professed zombie addict, truth be told. I love movies about the shamblers, ever since watching Night of the Living Dead on the midnight show scared the living hell out of me as a youth. The Zombie Survival Guide looks to be an amusing, thorough work and I can't wait to dive into it.

Speaking of zombies ... there's also the Walking Dead vol 8, Made to Suffer.

I purchased my first Walking Dead on a business trip in a Washington DC bookstore, in the shadow of the Pentagon. I didn't know it, but I was coming down with a pretty vicious little bug, and I settled into my posh hotel bed with the comic and suddenly found myself uncontrollably turning pages. Instead of savoring the book, as I do most comics, I was turning pages as fast as I could read. I couldn't wait to know what happened next. (It didn't hurt that the main protagonist's name was Rick!) It was (and is) that good. I slept a restless sleep, filled with zombie dreams and I woke up running a good fever, unable to pry the imagery from my head. I was hooked.

It's worth noting that I haven't actually purchased or read volume 7 yet, but my wife was able to find volume 8 and ordered me to find and read the previous volume before opening my newest arrival. No cheating for me!

Dead Space for the Playstation 3.

This hits all the right buttons (no pun intended). First person shooter? Check. Gritty space game? Check. Horror elements, with a touch of zombie-related Resident Evil-ness? Check. Once I finish wiping out those invaders in Resistance: Fall of Man, I'm headed into space. Look out, creepy alien things.

Last, but not least, a DM's Screen for 4th Edition.

My grognard friend Mark got this for me, as well as some official record sheets, stating "This doesn't mean I'm going to play this, you understand, but I figure you might get some use out of them." (He's a die hard 1st-Edition fan that can barely be talking into playing 3rd Edition and doesn't want to even learn another version of the rules, despite some of the good things I've told him about it.) He knows I'm open to all editions on one level or another, and it was a gift well given and happily received.

So what were your "geek gifts"?

Here's to next year!

I am Nyarlathotep

2009-01-02T16:01:00.006-05:00

Or at least this quiz says so. What about you?

Oh, and Happy New Year! I daresay 2009 shall be filled with lots of Cthulhu-style goodness.

Happy Holidays!

2008-12-20T16:50:00.008-05:00

I'm taking a quick break from RPG posts for a holiday post. Forgive me.
Okay, in the spirit of the season, here are my top 10 favorite Christmas songs:

Bonus Track! 11. Happy X-Mas (War is Over)
In this song, John Lennon begs the world for peace … a valuable sentiment, in any season.

10. All I Want for Christmas is You
Ye gods, a Mariah song I like! It’s true. It’s rather cutsie, but I like it.

9. Please Come Home for Christmas
A blues standard. There’s actually a surprising amount of X-mas blues tunes out there, but this tops my list. The Eagles gave it a good effort, and Jon Bon Jovi does a shockingly good cover of this, but for the real McCoy get your hands on the Charles Brown (no, the blues singer) version.

8. Santa Baby
Eartha Kitt first sung and recording this in 1953, and she said it was a favorite song of hers. Smoky, bluesy, with a touch of sultry greed … this one charms with its bald-faced honesty.

7. Holly Jolly Christmas
Johnny Marks wrote a number of good Christmas songs, this among them. Burl Ives wasn’t the first to record it, but his happy voice is probably the first folks think of when this song is mentioned.

6. Let it Snow
A great love song that never bothers to mention Christmas, this tune has been covered at least 30 times to my count. Great stuff.

5. Christmas Wrapping
In 1981 the New Wave band The Waitresses spun a great tale of love lost, and found, and lost, and found… Charming, humorous, and something that touches a common chord.

4. What Child is This?
My favorite version of this lovely song is the Vanessa Williams version, well sung and passionately rendered.

3. White Christmas
The film Holiday Inn made this Irving Berlin tune immortal, and with good reason—no one does it like Bing Crosby.

2. The Christmas Song
This wonderful tune was written by Mel Tormé and Bob Wells during a particularly hot streatcch of summer, when Wells jotted some wintery-sounding thoughts on paper to cool off (mentally at least). Nat King Cole recorded several versions, beginning in 1946. Others have made covers of the song, but to me Nat's buttery voice invokes hot rum cider sipped before a warm fire.

1. Jingle Bell Rock
A fast, spirited song that, to me, sums up everything cool about holiday music. It gets me in a good mood every time I hear it for the first time in the season, without fail. That’s enough to earn it first place!

There are many, many more songs I could have mentioned, but this list is good enough for this year!

Get the lyrics and hear many of the songs mentioned here.

I wish all my readers a very Merry Christmas and the very best going into 2009!

Last Chance

2008-12-18T23:49:00.006-05:00

Goodman Games will stop selling 3.5e products on December 31st. This is the last call.

I suggest folks grab these excellent modules and products while the going is good (and at super-low prices to boot)—don't say I didn't warn you while there was still time.

Visit the Goodman Games online store here, where you can purchase all 3.5 product at 50% off.

For the rest of this December, you can also visit their PDF store here to purchase 3.5 PDF e-books at $2.

This is an ideal time to grab some Dungeon Crawl Classics. Some personal favorites:

Dungeon Crawl Classics #5: Aerie of the Crow God
(Andrew Hind)
Dungeon Crawl Classics #7: The Secret of Smuggler's Cove
(Chris Doyle)
Dungeon Crawl Classics #17: Legacy of the Savage Kings
(Harley Stroh)
Dungeon Crawl Classics #36: Talons of the Horned King
(Michael Ferguson)
Dungeon Crawl Classics #44: Dreaming Caverns of the Duergar
(Michael Ferguson)
Dungeon Crawl Classics #51: Castle Whiterock
(Chris Doyle and Adrian Pommier with Harley Stroh and Jeff LaSala)

And hey, don't forget to pick up something written by yours truly while you're at it (wink-wink-say no more).

Get 'em while they're hot. Remember, after December 31st, they're gone forever!

Bright Torchlight, Big City

2008-12-01T21:52:00.003-05:00

As has been (very kindly I might add) touted on the websites of Mike Ferguson & Ken Hart, Dungeon Crawl Classics #60 Thrones of Punjar is coming to a store near you in the near future. A late Christmas present if you will. I'm pretty psyched, as this is my first full-length adventure since The Scaly God (which holds a dear place in my heart but feels pretty ancient to me now). I appreciate having the opportunity to hurl another adventure at the masses—this time 4th Edition! I love the cover work of Eric Lofgren too.

City Adventures used to scare the hell out of me. The idea of running a campaign in the big city—be it Greyhawk, Waterdeep, etc.—was pretty terrifying. I prefer straight corridors and known quantities (a la The Tomb of Horrors, natch) as opposed to wide open spaces where the PCs may run amuck. As a DM, you gotta be able to think on your feet with even the best written/created city adventure.

This said, the best regular campaign I ever ran took place in a small city, specifically Fax on the Greyhawk's Wild Coast. We met for play every 2 weeks like clockwork, which gave the campaign the ease of time (something I desperately lack these days) and NPCs actually had time to develop. The PCs were befriended by a trio of shadowy yet good NPCS: Lasturne, grey elf owner of a mysterious curio shop (think of the Friday the 13th TV series and mentally you're heading in the right direction), Sharill, thief-in-training and member of the local guild, and Darksot, reformed thief with a hidden past. Added to the mix was Mentorian, wizard at large, and the guard captain Duncan. On the darker side was guardsman Ceril (a wererat that betrayed the party eventually and earned their wrath), the "evil cleric" Selyular (the bag guy who always seemed to get away), and Darnek, a bandit underling of the dreaded Silver Dagger cult that eventually joined the PCs for a time until meeting his end at the business-end of a ballista bolt. Rounding out things were an endless supply of haggling merchants, jovial bartenders, and local pickpockets.

If reading the above NPC descriptions makes things sound fluid, they were. The city environment allowed the PCs to run into the same NPCs again and again, there to bargain with them, trick them, and even at times woo them for favors. The NPCs followed their own agendas and slowly gained levels when the PCs weren't around. Good guys turned to evil, and at least one bad guy turned to good. Nothing was black and white.

I soon came to love the city forrmat, because it allowed a depth of play unmatched elsewhere. The players began to "write their own adventures" simply by what they wished their PCs to do. Want to visit Mentorian for wizardly training? There was a little "errand" to run first ... oh, and never mind that bitter ex-apprentice that thirsts for revenge. Want to join the thieves guild? Prove your worth via a bit of daring burglary in the high quarter and they'll allow you to run their trap-filled maze and qualify for membership. I planted adventure seeds everywhere I could, layered subplots over subplots, and let the dice roll where they may. (I'm still sad they never discovered that dimensional portal called the Dragongate hidden in the curio shop.) My players were charitable when needed—they endured a lot of names made up on the spot (they joked me that names starting with a D were spur-of-moment names, which they usually were)—but they seemed to love it. It was a great campaign that went on for nearly three years.

I can't speak much about Thrones at this point, except to say that my intent was to capture a bit of that "adventure seeds" concept, while also making a big city like Punjar feel dark, dirty, and almost claustrophobic. I wanted to provide both safe havens and dangerous places that the PCs might wish to give more than one visit. Did I succeed? Time will tell. But the adventure was terribly fun to write and soon took a life of its own, which is always a good sign. Here's to the city!

A Halloween Treat

2008-11-11T11:12:00.009-05:00

Whew, what a crazy October it was! If it seems like it's been a while since my last post (or longer than usual anyway), you're not imagining things. Several writing projects keep me busy, but a greater event has occurred ... the birth of my son!

Kai Desmond Ralph Maffei arrived at approx. 1:27 pm Halloween day, after a long labor stretch by his Mom. (Honorary medal of fortitude goes to my wife, as always!)

We are delighted with our new arrival, and he brings us much joy. Life this last week has been crazy (he came home from the hospital a week ago today) and we haven't gotten a whole lot of sleep*, but it's all good. Saturday I added to our burgeoning debt by purchasing a new Macbook laptop so I can work in the livingroom while "doing the night-shift" (watching the rascal while my wife gets some sleep). It's a new chapter in our lives. A good one.

*I made the mistake of thinking that since I'm usually up till 2 am working or watching bad horror movies, the lack of sleep wouldn't be an issue (I normally average 4 hrs of sleep per night). Well, as Ken can probably attest, watching a newborn in the wee hours ain't the same as watching cable tv!

Mad Mazing

2008-09-27T18:57:00.003-04:00

I’ve been a computer geek from the beginning. By 5th grade I was screwing around with BASIC on computers that displayed eye-blinding green type (or sometimes orange) on tiny screens. I remember getting a TRS-80 color computer one Christmas and being thrilled—this baby ran programs off cassettes—yeah, audio cassettes!—and I upgraded it from 8k to 32k. That’s RAM. Not megabytes, but 32k!

Back in the early 1980s (probably 1983 or 1984) my family was selected as a test family for a service called Videotext. We were a perfect test family, I suppose: two boys and a girl, two parents, two grandparents, all in one house. For about 6 months we got the service free and we answered some questions and did survey interviews about it. We were told that about 200 families in New Jersey had the system.

Videotext was like a primitive Internet, for its day. We could send simple notes (pre- e-mail) to other users, get weather and news, and submit letters to online advice columns. Aside from checking the weather and news, which I did every day, there wasn’t a whole lot to do on the system … until Madmaze came along.

Madmaze was a 3-D style maze game. You navigated a graphic maze, and every so often you came to a drawn location, such as a castle, that had an associated riddle. If you answered the riddle, you continued. The only riddle I remember is: “Name a Rodgers and Hammerstein play named after a state” (Oklahoma). My brother and I became addicted. Before long, we—via our screennames—were listed in the Top 10 players. We soon we moving through the maze so fast that we began running into unfinished sections, and we were invited via “e-mail” to help debug the game by provided reports of bugs and unfinished areas. Every evening at 7-o-clock I sat down and ran the gauntlet for about an hour. This was way before Wolfenstein 3D and the Atari system had only been out a few years; this was new, exciting stuff.

Eventually the test period of Videotext was growing to a close. My brother and I, enjoying the personal competition, strove to finish the maze before each other … and anyone else. The last week was a mad dash to the finish, as the hallways of the maze grew steadily weirder (they had begun as brick or clay and now had glowing electrodes in them). Then it was over. My brother finished first, another player called ElBandito finished second, and I finished third—mere points apart. Curse you ElBandito!

As his prize for coming in first, my brother won a poster-sized print of the screen location of his choice, signed by the digital artist. My brother, knowing I knew the locations better and wanting to share his prize, let me choose. It was easy; after briefly considering the Haunted House I chose the Castle (big surprise, eh?). We indeed received our print (which sadly is now long gone) and it adorned our bedroom wall for a time. Soon thereafter the system was removed from our house and we heard little more about it, though it seems the test helped lay the groundwork for the Prodigy online system.

Historical notes: Internet searches lead me to believe that Videotex (no t) was the name of our service, but I remember it being Videotext, dammit! Greg Costikyan (designer of the West End Games’ Paranoid RPG, among other things) developed a Madmaze game for Prodigy in 1989, but this is not the game we played. Some screenshots of this latter game are labeled Madmaze II, so I have to assume that we played an earlier or prototype version (call it Madmaze I or perhaps Zero).

So what’s the moral here? Not much, except to share memories of my first online dungeon. Later adventures in the computer realm would follow: Ultima III and IV, Wolfenstein, etc., but few captured that excitement of exploring Madmaze.

Back from the Con

2008-09-09T18:41:00.010-04:00

I wanted to post this earlier, but alas, life has been busy! This month has found me happily writing the hours away, and both my personal and professional lives have gotten busier with various things—including a baby on the way!

A week before the Con, the same day I launched a new 4e campaign (more of an experiment I hope to expand with more players later), I took a bad fall and ended up badly tearing the ligaments in my foot (and possibly breaking bones as well, possible MRI to come). My foot promptly changed all shades of blue, and my orthopedic surgeon happily pronounced it the worst sprain he had seen in recent memory. I ditched the crutches a day before flying out, but still needed a cane for support (oh the humanity).

Our flight to Indy was Turbulence City and twice the plane dropped and shook -- after the second drop I turned to face my now dead-awake seat-mate who stared at me plate-eyed and said, "That was disconcerting!" So much for good beginnings! (They say bad things come in threes, and last week a neighbor backed out of her driveway right into my car. Crash. The car of course wouldn't have been there except I can't currently drive because of my foot ... sigh. So I figure foot–flight–crash makes three!)

The Con was hectic but fun. The Goodman Games/Troll Lords party was a hoot, replete with old RPG war stories told by veterans. I finally had the pleasure to meet the unique energy avatar that is Harley Stroh, and I totally failed my Fortitude save versus his infamous bear hug. The Slippery Noodle was my kind of place, replete with blues music (I jocked my own blues show for 5 years on public radio).

Friday night we stormed the ENnies, our toasting glasses filled with Whiterock soda at the ready. I was disappointed (to put it mildly) that we didn't get the gold, as I feel our entries were all incredibly deserving. Such is life. Castle Whiterock did take Silver for cartography (congrats Jeremy!) and that's no mean feat. Next year is ours, just wait...

Highlights of this trip included working the Goodman Games booth, which is one of the few times I actually have the pleasure of interacting with our customers. The Con also puts me into contact with some folks I don't get to see all that often, as well as my GG East regulars Ken Hart and Adrian Pommier. (Top marks to Blackdirge for still managing to stoke my interest in swordfighting mere minutes after hearing my broken thumb story. And no, I'm not dueling you next year, dude!) Amy & I spent part of an afternoon over at the Indiana Museum and got to see the Jack Kerouac scroll, which was very cool.

Friday I also got some shopping in, of course. My acquisitions included:

All the Goodman Games 4e modules

Dice I really don’t need

D&D figures I really don’t need

Some neat mini terrain pieces and crates made from used tires

Delta Green: Eyes Only (Chaosium)

Dragon magazines # 296, 297, & 298

FR2: Moonshae by Douglas Niles (TSR)

X8: Drums on Fire Mountain (TSR)

The latest issue of Kobold Quarterly

A dice bag decorated with a bow-wielding nymph

F3: Crystal Skull (Necromancer)

Some Cthulhu car stickers

Saturday night was the GG seminar "How to Write Adventures That Don't Suck" and it was a blast. Our esteemed panel included Joseph Goodman, Harley Stroh, Ken Hart, Jeff LaSala, Brendan LaSalle, Adrian Pommier, and Luke Johnson, talented folks all. We had a friendly, intelligent crowd and there were some good questions. As usual, I was shy until I opened my mouth, but the front row stayed awake and I got the sense the seminar was well received.

Sunday I walked a couple blocks down to catch the GG tournament-in-progress, to see if my Round Three creations were proving suitably deadly. Later I got to the GG booth just as the last of the trophies were being handed out (at this point my foot was pretty much shot, and my Speed was down to a 2-square rating). Congrats to the victors, the Blood Kings!

It was a good time. I talked with good people, was reminded that I work with an incredible group of guys and gals, and I held to my promise of getting my hands on some Indiana BBQ ribs (at both the Ram and Rock Bottom). Here's to next year!

Running the Tomb, Part 8: Death to Acererak!

2008-08-10T13:52:00.004-04:00

Back to our “Tomb tale”…

What follows is Spoiler City. Going to play in the Tomb of Horrors? Yes? Then scram! You’ll be happy you did later.

Our current player–character breakdown:

Adrian P. (covering for Mike F.)
Ceralt, 14th-level Fighter
~~Phelan, 9th-level Magic-user~~

Ken H.
~~Dendyr, 14th-level Cleric~~
~~Valdamane, 10th-level Paladin~~
Forethal, 9th-level Cleric

Steve C.
Rath, 7th/8th-level Dwarf Fighter/Thief

Will W.
Quint, 12th-level Ranger
Brandice, 4th/6th-level Drow M-U/Thief

As last we left things, our party had just triggered a switch that caused a small vault (a mere 10 feet square) to rise up. The vault was a mithril box of sorts, with a single door set with a pull ring.

Needless to say, the end of the adventure was clearly at hand. They, with some trepidation, pulled open the unlocked valve and strode into the vault. None of the characters would walk back out that door.

The vault held a small altar of sorts, surrounded by a scattering of items—several swords, a spear, scrolls, two rods, and potions, as well as several huge gems. At the end of the room on the low altar were what appeared to be the final, true remains of Acererak: a skull and a pile of bone dust.

As the party approached, a swirl of bone dust rose from the altar and assumed a man-like shape. The spectral thing moved toward the adventurers, clearly with dire intent! Forethal (or cleric) wasted no time in swinging at the shape with his staff of striking. The shape drew back slightly, and then resumed its course. Forethal swung his staff several more times, expending charges to intensify the weapon’s impact. The shape faltered several times, and finally disappated.

Our two thieves, Rath and Brandice, surged into the vault to assess the treasure. Ceralt the (lawful evil) fighter hung back, happy to let his companions take the brunt of any deathtraps that awaited before he entered to claim his portion of the treasure. Quint maintained a rear guard, trusty longbow at the ready.

The thieves took immediate notice of the skull; its eyes were set with valuable rubies of great size and its “teeth” were actually six marquis cut diamonds. Unable to resist, Brandice reached out and touched the skull.

The skull vibrated and immediately rose into the air of its own accord and Brandice stepped back a pace. Rath loaded his sling with the largest gem (a 100,000 gp black opal!) and slung it at the skull, but his shot missed at the gem shattered harmlessly against a far wall. Acererak’s skull turned, seemingly scanning the room and its occupants, before it stopped and leveled its gaze at Rath. In but an instant, Rath’s body crumpled and dissolved into putrescence and his soul was drawn into one of the ruby “eye” gems in Acererak’s skull!

At this horrid sight, Forethal stormed into the vault, his glowing staff at the ready. Brandice meanwhile cast identify on the items in the room in an attempt to find a strong bit of magic with which to fight this horror; he was convinced that something in the vault could be used against the lich. Brave Forethal charged his staff to full strength and bought it down on the skull … to no effect. The skull again rose, and this time Forethal let out a howl as his body rotted to nothingness and his soul streamed into the other ruby.

Quint ran into the room, drew his sword, and attacked as Brandice desperately searched the items on the floor. Brandice avoided a spear surrounded by evil magic but discovered a sword of great power and a staff of the magi. Soon the dauntless ranger crumbled to ash.

At this Ceralt screamed with rage and charged into the vault. Brandice threw him the sword and took up the staff himself. Ceralt swung the sword down on the bony plate with all his might and actually cracked the skull … but all too soon the skull rose again, its eye gems gleaming with tiny figures visible inside, panned the room, and leveled its gaze on the fighter. Cursing his last, Ceralt joined his companions in the gemstones.

Brandice rose in time with the skull, staff of the magi clutched tightly in this hands. The skull quickly settled its gaze on the drow mage-thief, and with but seconds remaining, Brandice did the only thing that came to mind … snapping the staff over his knee and creating a retributive strike within the 10-foot square mithril vault! The magical detonation whisked Brandice away to the Elemental Plane of Water and presumably destroyed the skull—but whether Acererak was truly destroyed or Brandice’s companions were spared is a tale for another time…

DM aside: I took some caveat in this last room, sparing them the dust ghost. The trick with this creature is that it’s harmless until struck, when it begins absorbing power from spells and hits. If it gains 50 hp “worth” of strikes and spell damage it becomes a full-fledged ghost! The creature was nearly formed but I decided the party had enough problems with the lich skull ahead and I spared them the ghost.

Brandice was also spared an unusually long time from the skull because the skull targets fighters over clerics, clerics over thieves, and thieves over magic-users (though it was a 50% toss who got soul-sucked between Rath and Brandice early on).

I greatly thank all my players—Adrian, Ken, Mike, Steve, and Willie—for a rip-roaring time. (My apologies if I got any details wrong in the retelling, its been a while!) First Edition AD&D proved to still have some life to it, and I was reminded that without Perception or Spot checks why those 10-foot poles came in so very handy!

To the next time!

Make Your Voice Heard

2008-08-04T18:04:00.004-04:00

Alright folks, it's not too late to put your votes in. Click on the graphic below to vote:

I encourage my readers to place their vote in the ENnies, if they haven't already, and while you're at it why not place a well-deserved vote for DCC #51: Castle Whiterock in the categories of Best Cartography and Best Adventure? The good Mr. Pommier and Mr.Doyle knocked themselves out writing this mega-module and put their heart into it full-force, and it truly deserves to bring home the gold, so to speak.

And hey, kindly give Goodman Games your vote for favorite publisher while you're in the booth! We writers appreciate these things, and we thank you!

Sorry it's so slow around here

2008-08-03T17:03:00.005-04:00

My apologies for the lack of posts, Gentle Reader. Yours truly has been very busy with many things, among them (happily) RPG writing projects. Expect several posts soon!

Running the Tomb, Part 7: There Will Be Blood

2008-07-01T23:14:00.005-04:00

Back to our “Tomb tale”…

What follows is Spoiler City. Going to play in the Tomb of Horrors? Yes? Then scat!
Our current player–character breakdown:

Adrian P. (covering for Mike F.)
Ceralt, 14th-level Fighter
~~Phelan, 9th-level Magic-user~~

Ken H.
~~Dendyr, 14th-level Cleric~~
~~Valdamane, 10th-level Paladin~~
Forethal, 9th-level Cleric

Steve C.
Rath, 7th/8th-level Dwarf Fighter/Thief

Will W.
Quint, 12th-level Ranger
Brandice, 4th/6th-level Drow M-U/Thief

The party marched into a fascinating foyer. Walls reflected the light from gleaming brass and beaten copper sheets. Ahead a short set of stairs climbed upwards, each stair constructed of a precious mineral. And at the top: a huge, vault-like door with a central depression and a tiny hole (a keyhole?) therein. A golden key, similar to the one found in the vat room, lay on a step. (Hereafter, we’ll call this the Second Key.)

Rath the dwarf mounted the stairs fearlessly, and proceeded to examine the door. Carelessly, he scratched the surface of one metal door. Almost immediately, the scratch showed red and soon began to drip blood—the blood of all those that died in the area of the Tomb! (This grim knowledge came to the characters, unbidden.) Before long the scarlet flow turned into a steady stream than ran down the stairs.

Forethal, scepter in hand, bravely inserted the scepter’s round, golden end into the door depression, and the great valve swung silently open. The party hastily ran through, but they realized the blood might flood the hall and still continue up… After a tense powwow, Forethal administered several healing spells to the nicked door and the flow finally ended.

The next chamber held many items, among them four fearsome iron statues bearing weapons, a ruined sarcophagus with bones, a smoking jug, and two chests. The thieves went right for the chests, Rath easily defeating his triple-locked chest (and gaining many gems) but Brandice failing his attempt to open his trunk. Meanwhile, the rest of the party inspected the area, including the sarcophagus (which they didn’t believe held the remains of Acererak, despite the named helpfully stenciled across the top in platinum), the statues, and the jug. Ceralt carefully deposited the jug back at the foyer for safekeeping.

A bit of true seeing by Forethal soon showed the true way—a secret trapdoor beneath one of the scary statues. Working together, the stronger party members shoved the statue aside and the group descended into the narrow crawlspace. The party, aware but confused by the “You’ve left and left and found my tomb” potion of the message walked past the actual secret door down a long corridor, but soon doubled back, found a tiny keyhole, and inserted the First Key. A section of wall rumbled away.

Beyond the sliding wall was a smallish area. The group filed in and a tiny hole was discovered in the floor. Another keyhole? Forethal inserted the First Key, and the resulting explosion blew him 5 feet upwards! Carefully, Rath inserted the Second Key, turning it once to the left (nothing) and once to the right, where a tiny click greeted his ears. The party waited … and nothing happened. Could the key have opened a door elsewhere?

Puzzled, they walked back down the corridor, where the hall eventually split. Some investigation led them to realize that the passages reconnected with the hallway leading to the siren’s grotto.

Brandice, assuming the way was clear (he had checked for pits earlier when coming the other way down the hall), waltzed through a door, plunged into a pit, and was stabbed by a poisoned spike. The pit was magical, and phased into the Tomb from another dimension when the door was entered from a certain direction! Climbing painfully out, Brandice joined his companions (who hastily inventoried their scroll collection for a neutralize poison spell).

The group walked back to the sarcophagus room, certain the answer was there! They surveyed the area, and Ceralt went back to the jug he had placed in the foyer, noted the puffs of smoke coming from its top, and popped the seal. Immediately streams of smoke and bright red light spilled forth, as well as an efreeti! The efreeti, pleased to be released after a long imprisonment, offered Ceralt three services. Ceralt choose to have three questions answered. The efreeti (truly happy at this simple arrangement) answered Ceralt’s questions about the Tomb in a truthful but cryptic way, but his last answer hinted that Rath had come the closest to finding the final resting place of the great Acererak.

After some brainstorming, the party walked back to the tiny floor depression and Rath again inserted his golden key into the keyhole. He turned the key, once, twice, three times, and suddenly the floor bulged, bent, and began to rise! Leaping away and avoiding being smashed to a pulp (my ominous DM countdown didn’t hurt), Rath watched in wonder as a huge mithril vault raised into the room. A humble pull-ring on a mithril door begged for use. The party walked forward, into the last room in the Tomb any would ever enter…

Stay tuned, gentle reader, for Part 8: Death to Acererak!

Running the Tomb, Part 6: Balloons Away!

2008-06-15T14:20:00.007-04:00

Back to our “Tomb tale”…

What follows is Spoiler City. You were warned.

Our current player–character breakdown:

Adrian P. (covering for Mike F.)
Ceralt, 14th-level Fighter
~~Phelan, 9th-level Magic-user~~

Ken H.
~~Dendyr, 14th-level Cleric~~
~~Valdamane, 10th-level Paladin~~
Forethal, 9th-level Cleric

Steve C.
Rath, 7th/8th-level Dwarf Fighter/Thief

Will W.
Quint, 12th-level Ranger
Brandice, 4th/6th-level Drow M-U/Thief

Our intrepid heroes turned their attention to the only unexplored passage, and headed north. They discovered the sneaky secret door hidden behind a false door, despite my attempts to lead them astray. Alas, they missed a second, important secret trapdoor immediately thereafter. A series of double doors led to a fateful passage—filled with potent sleep gas!

(This was my first lapse as DM, into “Old Softy.” I asked the players at the outset they wanted me to “go easy a bit” and they, valiant souls, would have none of it. They unanimously wanted to beat the Tomb on Gygax’s ground, and I respect them for that. I gave them a save not mentioned in the module … at –5 penalty. Back to our narrative.)

Forethal and Ceralt make their saves, barely, and stagger in place. The other PCs drop face forward, dead asleep. Elsewhere, a huge stone juggernaut comes rolling out of the room where until now it lay, quiescent. Rrrrrruble.

The rules: the PCs are asleep 2 to 8 rounds. Each round, if a 4 on a d4 is rolled, the juggernaut rolls 1d6 squares (10-60 feet). The closest characters are about 80 feet away! The PCs who save are extremely foggy, so I allow them 1d6 5-foot squares of movement … and Forethal rolls a 1. Ceralt does better and exits the corridor immediately, leaving his companions to their fate; did I mention he was Lawful Evil? Luckily, the remaining PCs, due to kind dice, only sleep two turns.

Turn one: I roll a 4, and the juggernaut rolls! The stone beast rolls 20 feet and stops. The cloest characters are a mere 30 feet away.
Turn two: The beast stays dormant.

The PCs flee back to the corridor.

At this point they doubled back a bit, confused. Which was the correct way? Many rolls for secret doors take place. Eventually, however, our heroes once again turn north and discover a secret hatch over a roughly dug tunnel that led to an adamantium door with three slots. Rath noted that the slots are the width of a sword blade. After some hand wringing, the PCs plunged three magic swords hilt-deep into the slots simultaneously, and the valve swung silently open, granting access to the pillared throne room. At this point the players, familiar with Acererak’s riddle, knew they were getting closer to their final objective.

Investigation of the pillared hall revealed many things: many burnt skeletons surrounding a glowing orange gem, an ornate throne chair atop which sat a scepter and crown, several glowing doors to the north, and two more stone devil faces high up on the northern wall. Every so often a strong breeze blew through the area.

The party investigated (visually at first) the throne, and then moved around the massive chamber counter-clockwise. Forethal detects a vague wish-related magic about the gem, but given the many burnt skeletons that littered that area none dared attempt a wish or to even touch the gem. The doors were inspected, but not opened. (Earlier harsh lessons obviously had an effect here and the PCs avoided touching most objects!) Eventually the PCs spread about the room and began looking for secret niches in the many pillars.

The characters touching the pillars—all but Ceralt, who maintained a guard position—suddenly found themselves floating weightlessly up to the ceiling, victims of some malign magic! Yet another breeze blew, pushing the floating PCs northward. They soon realized with some horror that they were being relentlessly pushed toward the two gaping demon mouths on the far northern wall!

Forethal and Brandice, the two PCs closest to the faces, tried desperately the push away from the stone idols with their 10-foot poles. Quint and Rath, sans poles, also were towed
helplessly northward. Ceralt surged toward Brandice, and dripping opposite ends of the 10-pole, they brought Brandice “down to earth” long enough to tie him to Ceralt. Rath meanwhile placed a foot on either side of the face that meant to consume him, pushing off and buying a few more seconds of survival.

Ceralt and Brandice hastened to assist the others, several of which were struggling at the very edge of being sucked into a mouth to an uncertain fate. Bracing with their legs and using iron bars, the remaining characters held off—barely—until help arrived. Shortly thereafter the effects of the magic on their persons wore off and they regained normal gravity.

None the worse for wear (except perhaps badly frightened) the party walked straight back to the ornate throne mentioned in the riddle to be both key and keyed. Forethal had earlier discovered a silver ornamentation at the base of the throne that matched the crown. He gripped the scepter and touched the silver tip to the silver rune. A moment later, the entire throne shook and lowered into the floor with a rumble, revealing a brightly glowing foyer beyond. The party stashed the crown and scepter and moved into thee opening toward the brightly glowing area ahead…

Stay tuned, gentle reader, for Part 7: There Will be Blood.

Running the Tomb, Part 5: Slime All the Time

2008-06-08T23:37:00.008-04:00

Recently I had the pleasure to DM the second half of an old-style, AD&D Tomb of Horrors session with friends (including two active members of the Goodman Games clan).

What follows is Spoiler City. Don’t read if you intend to enter the ToH as a player!

Our current player–character breakdown:

Adrian P. (covering for Mike F.)
Ceralt, 14th-level Fighter
Phelan, 9th-level Magic-user

Ken H.
Dendyr, 14th-level Cleric
~~Valdamane, 10th-level Paladin~~

Steve C.
Rath, 7th/8th-level Dwarf Fighter/Thief
Forethal, 9th-level Cleric

Will W.
Quint, 12th-level Ranger
Brandice, 4th/6th-level Drow M-U/Thief

Our brave PCs emerged from their battle with the “false Acererak” ready to continue their search for the real McCoy. A bit of backtracking (a dangerous thing in this place) led them back to the remains of the Chapel of Evil, there to bed down the night, rest, and recover spells. While there, they tested the archway of glowing orange mists in various ways, but didn’t tempt fate by stepping inside. Sound did not carry through the mist, nor did sight. (One character in the party, thinking evilly, animated the skeleton discovered earlier in the chapel and ordered it to step through the arch. He then ordered it to return, but it couldn’t hear his commands … presumably it stands there still.)

The party investigated the mummy preparation area, and Dendyr the cleric soon discovered the halves of the One Key hidden in the stone vats, and also the hidden ochre jelly! The jelly reared up and attacked, but was swiftly dispatched by Ceralt the fighter and Quint the ranger.

Next the party came to a long, open pit in the corridor. Many spikes dotted the floor. After some discussion, Brandice the drow mage-thief levitated across and affixed a rope to the far end. Each PC then would step down into the pit, walk across using the rope for balance, and climb up the other side. Simple! Dendyr crossed first, only to unleash a volley of spikes upwards as he stepped into the final third of the distance. Twenty-one points of damage later… time for a new plan!

A harsh turning point came for the group at the Jumbled Chamber (my term), a room of battered furniture, trunks, coffers, funerary items, and hideous greenish curtains depicting undersea life. Dendyr, Quint and Brandice busied themselves examining the walls behind the curtains, while Rath the dwarven thief-fighter checked out the (empty) chests.
Moments later the precariously balanced room responded to their movements, sending the characters flying. This happened several times. Finally, as the bruised characters were desiring to move on, Phelan decided to yank down one of the long curtains. Rrrrip! tearing the enchanted curtain reverted it to its natural state—an enormous quantity of green slime that fell in a sheet to cover a 10 by 20 foot area. In but a moment, Phelan and Dendyr were buried under mounds of green slime and destroyed, eliminating the group’s 14th-level cleric and 9th-level wizard in one fell swoop!

The band of adventurers trudged ahead, bypassing a spiked pit and then taking a spear to the gut (courtesy of a trapped door), and eventually made their way to a unusual grotto filled with brilliant streamers of gold and silver mist.

Rath inhaled the gas and shrugged off its effects, and he entered the cave solo while the others waited outside. Rath soon encountered a mysterious woman and engaged in conversation. She revealed little, evading questions about the tomb or her role therein and only hinting that she had been in her grotto a very long time. Rath, good thief that he was, noticed two sacks lying behind the woman and inquired about them. She sadly waved an arm toward them. The dwarf then touched the smaller of the two sacks and the other sack and siren immediately disappeared—spirited away to parts unknown (or oblivion) by Acererak’s magic. Investigation of the sack revealed four potions in metal, stoppered vials.

Rath related his experience to his companions as the shimmering mists in the cave behind him began to fade away. The group then forged ahead, moving to an area that would prove one of the most dangerous of the evening…

Stay tuned, gentle reader.

Monster Roles

2008-05-24T13:38:00.003-04:00

Wizards recently posted an interesting Gamer-Zero video that does a good job of defining monster roles:

I may not be thrilled with all the implementation decisions made in the past few months, but 4e does look interesting. I very much like the idea of multiple variations of zombies and such. There can't be too many toys in the writer's toy box, in my humble opinion. Variety is the spice of life, they say. Time will tell.

Running the Tomb, Part 4

2008-05-09T14:16:00.008-04:00

As mentioned previously, in April I had the pleasure to DM an old-style Tomb of Horrors session with friends (including two active members of the Goodman Games clan).

What follows is Spoiler City. Don’t read if you intend to enter the ToH as a player!

Our current player–character breakdown:

Mike F.
Ceralt, 14th-level Fighter
Phelan, 9th-level Magic-user

Ken H.
Dendyr, 14th-level Cleric
~~Valdamane, 10th-level Paladin~~

Steve C.
Rath, 7th/8th-level Dwarf Fighter/Thief
Forethal, 9th-level Cleric

Will W.
Quint, 12th-level Ranger
Brandice, 4th/6th-level Drow M-U/Thief

Having triggered a bolt of lightning from the blue altar, Brandice and Quint were fortunate enough to make their respective saving throws and each took only(!) 20 hp damage. The altar now began to pulse with a strobing blue-red inner light. Dendyr marched over and cast dispel magic on the altar, dimming the light instantly.

Rath discovered a circular marking on one wall, beneath which was a carved slot. The group recalled a verse of the mocking riddle left by Acererak in the first grand corridor:

If shades of red stand for blood the wise need not sacrifice aught but a loop of magical metal – you’re well along your march.

The heroes inserted the ring they claimed from the chest room into the slot, and immediately a rumbling sound was heard. Meanwhile, behind them, the altar once again began glowing with a red, throbbing light, pulsing ever faster. A triangular slab of stone sank to the floor, revealing a passage beyond. Wasting little time, the party pushed one by one into the opening, the last character barely getting inside the corridor before a violent explosion sounded from the chapel behind them and sent a spray of burnt wood fragments into the tunnel!

The party walked down a flight on stairs into an average-looking corridor. Doors that appeared before them were opened cautiously, and Brandice triggered off several pits. At this point the players were carefully following the clues, and they were focused on the next line:

Two pits along the way will be found to lead to a fortuitous fall, so check the wall.

When a third pit was discovered Dendyr busied himself searching for secret doors around and inside the pit, but found nothing. The party turned a corner and came to a door secured with massive padlocks. Phelan cast a knock spell on the door – to no effect! With no other options, the stronger characters hacked away at the door and buckled it in half. From beyond came the sound of frightened people running away and was seen a distant red glow … torchlight?

The party emerged into a corridor with smooth alabaster walls and a floor of polished grey marble. As they walked toward the light, the floor suddenly shifted forward! As this point, I began a slow countdown… Every player immediately stated that their character was reversing at top speed, and the group managed the turn about and avoid a grim slide into molten lava! (On hindsight, I as DM should have had the players made some dexterity checks for slipping, running in place, and such, to put a bit of fear into the proceedings, but such is life…)

The PCs trudged back to the pits, confident that the answer had to lie there. A different hero discovered a secret door inside the third pit, and soon they were on their way. A short tunnel lead to another corridor with a flight of stairs, and the party also luckily discovered a secret door right at the top of the stairs. Walking down the stairs, they encountered masses of magical webbing barring their way, but a few swings from Brandice’s flaming sword soon took care of that obstacle. Near a door, Dendyr discovered a huge mace that glowed with a faint golden light.

Beyond the door lay a door containing a crypt room filled with ruined furnishings and a lich-like figure reclining on a couch of solid gold! A voice demanded to know who dared disturb the rest of Acererak!?

The lich soon saat up and began gesturing with his hands. Dendyr still clutched the mace, which now glowed brightly and the lich seemed afraid of the weapon. Pehlan triggered a round of magic missiles at the undead horror, but they were harmlessly absorbed by a glow that surrounded the lich-being. The fighters Ceralt and Quint joined dendyr in the front ranks and surrounded the figure, raining blows upon it.
The creature flailed out with its claws, tearing at Ceralt. Soon a mighty strike with the glowing mace sent the lich to the floor. The foul creature clutched at Dendyr’s leg and swiped at him, and he responded by swinging down the glowing mace in a vicious arc – rolling a natural 20! The mace struck the lich’s skull in twain, and the creature fell lifeless to the floor. Moments later the mace itself shattered harmlessly.

At this point we decided to break for the night. The players, aware of a secret door that leads deeper into the tomb, realize that their quest is not yet at an end….

Running the Tomb, Part 3

2008-05-06T23:48:00.007-04:00

As mentioned previously, a few weeks back I got to run a brave bunch of folks through the infamous Tomb of Horrors.

What follows is Spoiler City. Don’t read if you intend to enter the ToH as a player! I mean it!

Let’s jump right back into the action:

The party found themselves teleported from the arch and into a small, rectangular room occupied by a broken gargoyle statue. Dendyr’s divine magic revealed no traps. Brandice (M-U/Th 4/6), against the advice of his companions, dared pick up the statue’s sundered arm in an attempt to rejoin it to the statue.

They were about to leave, when Ceralt (F 14) lingered and discovered carved hollows in the gargoyle’s upturned palms. Ceralt placed three gems into the palms—the 100 gp ones fit perfectly!—and watched as the hands animated and the fine gems were ground to powder. That was enough! He told the party that any more gems wouldn’t come from his pouch, and the group soon exited, having come extremely close to finding a magical item that would help in the trials ahead…

Soon they crawled their way into a massive hallway, bedecked with ancient frescoes of creatures holding colored spheres, wooden doors, and another ominous mist-filled doorway. Hesitant to sample the archway, they turned their attention elsewhere, and soon the thieves sniffed out devious spear traps (nearly spearing a party member in the process). Dendyr marched the length of the hallway using his magic to seek out pits and such. Brandice did a bit of prodding and soon discovered that two painted spheres were illusionary and covered open spaces. After some debate, the party selected a sphere and crawled into the round opening, eventually emerging from a narrow tunnel into the Tomb’s “chest room.”

The two thieves approached the chests, Phelan (M-U 9) and Dendyr (C 14) close behind. Rath (F/Th 7/8) flung open one chest (staying carefully behind it as he did so), unleashing a spray of darts in all directions! Beyond the trap however sat an ornate ring that detected positive for protective magic.

Brandice, displaying his typical (read: near-mindless) daring moved on to the next chest, and unleashed 12 angry asps into the room. The venomous snakes milled about, striking at any PC that happened near. Rath stomped and struck at the vile serpents whilst Phelan beat a hasty retreat (something that often allows 1st-Edition magic-users to cast spells another day). Soon Brandice went down under multiple fang strikes, and shortly thereafter Dendyr too went down in agony, dying.A side note here: Old Softy that I am, I typically give poisoned PCs 1d6 rounds of non-combat life to reach magical aid before dying. Even the most poisonous serpents—I’m thinking the tiger snakes and sea snakes here, but I’m no snake expert—don’t kill you instantly, and in this case the snakes were “asps”—a rather general term that has typically been used in history to refer to African vipers and cobras—so a few rounds of life weren’t out of the question.

Second, odder side note: A long time ago, in a galaxy ... well, you get the idea .. when I was in high school, I had the snake chest image above made into a silk screen design and I colored it black, red, and green. That was a favorite t-shirt for a while! Now back to our program.

The characters retreated and soon Dendyr and Forethal (C 9) were able to magically eliminate the poison taint from our heroes, and the cleric and drow thief were saved from certain death. Deciding (wisely) that the remaining chest wasn’t worth the effort, the PCs returned to the remaining unexplored sphere and swiftly emerged into a grim chapel.

The horrid chapel held all manner of weird items. The heroes split up and explored the room, the thieves and Quint (Ran 12) heading up toward the weirdly glowing altar while Dendyr approached a skeleton in rusted chainmail. Nearby, orange mists surged from yet another clouded archway. Rath, while vaulting a railing next to the altar (something every PC was trying studiously to avoid touching) caught his trailing foot on the worm-eaten wood rail and very nearly fell face-down onto the altar. Brandice experimented with the newly found ring and the altar, whilst Ceralt and Rath moved to investigate the walls and pews.

Eventually (and predictably!) Brandice finally touched the altar … sending a 40-foot streak of lightning (base damage 40 points) shooting down the central isle! The blue bolt blasted through Brandice and Quint and ended just before reaching the startled (and extremely fortunate) Phelan.

Whew! See my next installment for the last part of my session report!

Running the Tomb, Part 2

2008-04-25T23:11:00.035-04:00

As mentioned previously, this past Sunday I had the pleasure to DM an old-style Tomb of Horrors session with friends (including two active members of the Goodman Games clan). The player–character breakdown:

Mike F.
Ceralt, 14th-level Fighter
Phelan, 9th-level Magic-user

Ken H.
Dendyr, 14th-level Cleric
Valdamane, 10th-level Paladin

Steve C.
Rath, 7th/8th-level Dwarf Fighter/Thief
Forethal, 9th-level Cleric

Will W.
Quint, 12th-level Ranger
Brandice, 4th/6th-level Drow M-U/Thief

What follows is Spoiler City. Don’t read if you intend to enter the ToH as a player!

Play began with the arrival of the party at the burial mound of Acererak, deep in the Vast Swamp.* The paladin quickly organized the party and they began a sweep of the mound, paying extra attention to the massive stones of blue-grey rock that made up the ‘face’ on the huge cairn mound. No sooner did they approach the stones when a sea of undead surged up from burrows beneath the stones and attacked, surrounding most of our heroes (save the cautious wizard)!

Ceralt and Valdamane charged forth and cut a swath through the foul juju zombies and risen zombie-bugbears, but the other PCs were less fortunate and were wounded by the zombies ragged claws. Phelan assisted from a distance, lobbing magic missiles from his trusty wand, as the undead moved to surround him. Before things got too dire, the clerics Dendyr and Forethal used their turning ability to reduce half the remaining undead to bone shards and the last of the undead were then dispatched in quick order.

The party soon circumnavigated the burial mound and began digging on the distressed northern side. Several hours of work later the party unearthed a tunnel entrance. The party marched into the corridor, Dendyr using his magic to detect for traps. The thieves approached a set of two doors at the end of the corridor, and each began an attempt to disarm the trapped doors. Brandice blew his attempt badly, and soon a 10-foot thick slab of stone was rumbling across the corridor, threatening to entomb the PCs!

I, as DM, began my first—but not last—ominous countdown of the evening. As soon as the count began, the party bolted for the entrance (thieves heading out last just as the lead-covered slab loudly sealed off the corridor behind them).

Undetered, the party resumed digging. They discovered two more entrance corridors, and to my delight as DM choose the second false entrance to try first. More cautious this time, Rath soon disarmed a devious trap at the southern false door that would have sent the ceiling raining down on their heads! They promptly departed for the last remaining tunnel.

The party spent a good deal of time examining the many gruesome drawings and features in the true entrance shaft. Dendyr discovered Acererak’s mocking, clue-filled message hidden in the floor runes, while Phelan discovered a concealed door sealed behind the illustrated wall mortar. The PCs paced out the corridor and soon discovered the huge demon face and misty archway at the tunnel end. Brandice meanwhile busied himself with a mysterious box that projected from a wall illustration … and landed in a 30’ pit with poisoned spikes for his trouble (he luckily missed the spikes)!

Dendyr the cleric and Valdamane the paladin approached the great face with its mouth of dead black. Wisely, Dendyr used an augury to seek his god’s counsel. The spell rules gave him a 84% chance to receive correct information, and he simply asked if the face bode weal or woe. I had Ken roll the dice over my screen … a 97. Uh oh. Weal, the DM stated with certainty. Demonstrating a paladin’s classic bravery, Valdamane crawled into the demon's mouth—and was promptly disintegrated by the fixed sphere of annihilation therein.

Dendyr and Phelan, working together, eventually found the means to dispel the archway mists. Ceralt strode confidently into the archway … and was teleported straight back to the other end of the entrance tunnel. The party then entered the archway, taking care to stay on the red tile path, and they found themselves transported away by stomach-churning magic to parts unknown…

*DMs using the Known Realms (I used Greyhawk in this instance to fit with the old-style theme) could easily locate the Tomb in the Great Swamp or the Gloom Marshes of Tashgar.

See my next installment for the 2nd half of our session report!

Running the Tomb

2008-04-21T22:52:00.008-04:00

The Tomb of Horrors and I go way back.

My first roleplaying experience as a player, with an actual DM, was traveling through the dangerous underground halls of the Tomb of Horrors (ToH) … solo. Talk about avoiding the frying pan, missing the fire, and landing straight in the lava! (I don’t remember how far I got, but my PC—a fighter, I believe— made it at least as far as the evil chapel.)

Years ago I used to use the ToH as an introductory adventure for groups of new players. You heard that right. This was no deep desire to exterminate as many PCs as possible, rather I would tamp down the threat level of the Tomb, removing poison and dialing down damage as needed. It wasn’t all that hard actually; many of the ToH’s traps kill because of actions completely unrelated to level. A 1st-level character can survive a good third of the rooms if the player is very sharp (and very cautious); likewise a 15th-level PC can easily bite the dust if the player lets his guard down at the wrong moment.

In Dungeon # 116 a judging group of select RPG designers named the ToH one of the 30 best adventures ever, and the editors gave the adventure the cover shot. It’s a tough module, no doubt, and it’s often arbitrary and player-screwing attitude has led many to point to the module and cry foul, but I’ve run it enough to know that it’s also a hell of a lot of fun. Players generally like dangerous situations and a touch of “Wait! Do I even dare touch that door?” I never ran a group though it that had a bad time when all was said and done.

Recently I had the chance to run the ToH for the first time in, what, 12 years? I don’t know, but it’s been a while. The passing of Gygax seemed to be an event worth honoring by DMing this granddaddy of modules, the first stand-alone adventure I ever purchased. I was able to collect a group of truly adventurous souls for the outing: Mike (Goodman Games author), Ken (GG editor/author), my friend Steve, and last but not least my old friend Willie. Equipped with two fairly powerful characters apiece, they embarked across the Vast Swamp for that most deadly of locations.

In my recent review/prep of the ToH—the original 1st Edition one, not the watered-down Realms of Horror, or Return, or 3.5e version (although I own them as well out of loyalty to the brand)—I found some problems, mainly with the list of pre-gens in the rear of the module.
At least one PC starts with +3 Plate, +3 Shield, and a Dexterity of at least 17. Oh my … that’s an AC of what, –7? Some of the creatures (the few there are) in the module have a mere 6 hit dice, and some are lower than that. Can they even hit the PC, barring a natural 20?
And here’s another pre-gen, a straight fighter. He cannot hurt the demi-lich with his given equipment, or his teammates equipment, and most anything found in the Tomb itself. What if he is the last standing member of his party (something quite possible herein)? What does he do if he finally makes it to Acererak’s final haunt, whistle dixie?

I put hand to keyboard and began to set things straight. Soon I had a reasonably powerful group of pre-gens that had a fighting chance against the terrors of the Tomb, and vice-versa. Time to, as they say, rock and roll.

But wait, you say. How did the recent group fare?

That is a tale for the next installment. Stay tuned, Gentle Reader.

Research, Research, Research

2008-03-25T18:51:00.007-04:00

I’m a pretty big believer in research.

My favorite fiction writers—currently I’m into the scribblings of Douglas Preston & Lincoln Child—are usually good about doing their homework, and it shows in their work. Details and some healthy realism, even in fantasy, spin a web that can ensnare the unsuspecting reader … and once you’ve got them it’s too late.

My little source bookshelf is currently overburdened with reference material, and I’m adding more all the time. Some material has proved elusive, but there are many books about fantasy topics—medieval clothing, castles, etc. All grain for the mill. Most fantasy RPGs are set in a semi-medieval world, so one must pick and choose information, but there is still plenty to be had. Raiding the Barnes & Noble Sale Annex for large picture books on different cultures has become a regular pastime for me.

Often the little details aren’t individually noticeable, but I like to think that together they blend and make for a good final product. My Goodman Games adventure The Scaly God, for instance, incorporated a lot of weird research: research on lizards for the troglodytes, hours of research on caves and natural cavern formations, and castle research including Roman mountainside fortifications. I also studied Gygax’s Giant series (G2 and G3 specifically) in an attempt to give the third level cave layout an “old school” sense of flow.

Again, sometimes you must know when to “push the rules” a bit; real caves are often extremely tight and narrow to the point of claustrophobia—I choose the larger scale tunnels, but I did retain some natural formations and details.

Real life experiences, as I’ve mentioned previously in this blog, also shape my work heavily. I’ve walked through a good number of European medieval-age structures, and a summer spend studying abroad allowed me first-hand visits to Stonehenge and Warwick Castle. Later ramblings got me to Cardiff Castle in Wales and Urquhart Castle at Loch Ness. (And no, I didn’t see Nessie, but I was so knackered by the time I reached the loch that I was half-asleep on the boat! Sadly, Nessie would have had to bit my rump for me to take notice at that point.)
Whitefang Stronghold has a goodly share of those trips in it; I mentally threw several structures into the blender and liked what emerged. (None the Wiser, whose awesome and inspiring work I mention here, did note my lack of proper ceiling support or spiral stair construction in places—I guess engineering isn’t my strong suit! I did find his observation about having arrowslits on a staircase privately ironic—he is totally right, having them there really doesn’t make much sense, yet I put them there after, you guessed it, seeing similarly placed arrowloops in an Italian fortification!) One maze-like section of the third level caves was even inspired by a childhood memory of exploring Injun's Joe's Cave on Disneyland's Tom Sawyer Island, of all places!

For me, part of doing the research is that it makes me believe in what I'm writing, and that in turn makes me more passionate about what I'm writing.

Does this research and resulting mental mishmash ultimately bleed into my final product enough to make a real difference? I like to think so.

So … ready to write? Try hitting the books first.

Thanks Gary

2008-03-04T17:39:00.010-05:00

I am greatly saddened to hear of the passing of Gary Gygax (or EGG or Col_Pladoh, as I think of him). Gary was an icon, and in no small part he was responsible for something huge, more than a hobby and indeed a huge passion for so many of us. One of my longest running friendships began with a short posting on a D&D message board. More recently, a mutual love of the game has brought me into contact with some fellow Goodman Games writers, truly wonderful fellows all. I wouldn’t be on the RPG writing path I am without having read so many great adventures by the master. Sample a bit of Gygax prose from The Temple of Elemental Evil:

The ruins of the Temple’s outer works appear as dark and overgrown mounds of gray rubble and blackish weeds. Skulls and bones of humans and humanoids gleam white here and there amidst the weeds. A grove of some oddly stunted and unhealthy looking usk trees still grows along the northern end of the former Temple compound, and a stump of a tower juts up from the northeast corner of the shattered wall. The leprous gray Temple, however, stands intact, its arched buttresses somehow obscene with their growth of climbing vegetation.

Everything surrounding the place is disgusting. The myriad leering faces and twisting, contorted forms writhing and posturing on every face of the Temple seem to jape at the obscenities they depict. The growth in the compound is rank and noisome. Thorns clutch, burrs stick, and crushed stems either emit foul stench or raise angry weals on exposed flesh. Worst of all, however, is the pervading fear which seems to hang over the whole area—a smothering, clinging, almost tangible cloud of vileness and horror.

Or the Vault of the Drow:

The small “star” nodes glow in radiant hues of mauve, lake, violet, puce, lilac, and deep blue. The large “moon” of tumkeoite casts beams of shimmering amethyst which touch the crystalline formations with colors unknown to any other visual experience. The lichens seem to glow in rose madder and pale damson, the fungi growths in golden and red ochres, vermilions, russets, citron, and aquamarine shades. (Elsewhere the river and other water courses sheen a deep velvety purple with reflected highlights from the radiant gleams overhead vying with streaks and whorls of old silver where the liquid laps the stony banks or surges against the ebon piles of the jetties and bridge of the elfin city for the viewer’s attention.) The rock walls of the Vault appear hazy and insubstantial in the wine-colored light, more light mist than solid walls. The place is indeed a dark fairyland.

Great, great work.

My only true meeting with Gary, and it was a brief one, took place at Gen Con 1998. I wanted to meet Gygax but was hesitant to approach him on the show floor. Later my friend Mark dragged me into the convention center bar where Gary was enjoying a cold one, and he was happy to sign our Player’s Handbooks. I took the opportunity to solve an old argument:

Me: “How do you pronounce the name of the dark elves, Gary?”

Gary: “Well, I’ve always said ‘drow’ (rhymes with cow) myself,” he saw my pained look and quickly added, “But whatever works for you!”

I lost the argument but was happy as a clam, just the same.

Gary was a gentleman, to coin his phrase, a Gentle Writer, and he will be missed. At the expense of sounding truly geeky, I hope every time those funny dice hit a table somewhere, Gary is smiling somewhere else. If one must have a claim to fame, giving a gift of imagination and enjoyment to millions via your creation and its offspring isn’t a bad one. Not at all.

The World After

2008-01-26T16:22:00.000-05:00

Recent conversations with Mike (check out his blog—far better than mine—here) have gotten me thinking about the Gamma World game. I was always basically a “D&D player”; I experimented a bit with other systems—Mythus, TORG, etc.—and I own a few systems that seem cool but I’ve never actually played—Call of Cthulhu, Paranoia, and Vampire come to mind—but I always came back to the gold standard, flaws and all.

The one system that pulled me away for a time was Gamma World, the first edition with the grey book. True, the rules were basically D&D rules, and perhaps that made it more approachable, but it was also the subject matter. I’ve always found end of the world type scenarios fascinating, and GW had all the right elements: cool tables full of superhero power-like mutations, weird and malfunctioning robots and androids (Westworld is one of my favorite films of all time), secret societies with hidden agendas, and a campaign milieu that allowed for a broad variety of encounters.

My friends and I played eagerly, especially when we needed a break from wizards and dragons, and I still remember our adventures set around the starting city of Horn. We battled badders and arks (mutated, intelligent badger-men and dog-men), destroyed killer androids, puzzled over ancient artifacts, and lived in terror of the mighty Death Machine. It was great fun.

Last week I took advantage of a stop made at my folks house to raid my old closet. This meant laying on my belly in the dust, pushing up layers of boxes and reaching and straining for that most-buried box that still held some old modules. It took about 20 minutes of struggle and some scraped knuckles, but buried amid old Dragon magazines and convention brochures I hit pay dirt—the Gamma World motherlode. I unearthed the Gamma World second edition boxed set (I never played past the 3rd) and several modules … Famine in Far-go, The Cleansing War of Garik Blackhand, The Mind Masters, and Alpha Factor.

Flipping through the old books was like a trip down memory lane, and it opened my mind to new possibilities. Slaying dragons is awesome (especially a young white my duskblade helped fell the other day), but mutants and androids are a cool chance of pace.

Rebooting

2008-01-15T18:44:00.000-05:00

Recently I’ve thought a lot about RPG reboots. Perhaps it’s the New Year and all (and I wish a good 2008 to my readers—both of you!—by the way).

Occasionally it’s time for a RPG reboot, and often it can be a good thing. Many years ago I ran a regular campaign, almost certainly the best I’ve ever run as a DM. I had four players and we met every two weeks like clockwork. This went on for nearly three years. We were playing in the venerable World of Greyhawk and their PCs busily explored the Wild Coast in search of adventure. The PCs (a human fighter, half-elf thief, cleric, and drow mage/thief, if I recall correctly) used the town of Fax as home base, and they got involved in all manner of trouble. They worked their way through such famous modules as the entire Slavers series as well as many home-brewed adventures, all of which I stitched together into a giant tapestry of NPCs and subplots. They barely had finished an adventure when I laid down the clues for several more. Sometimes a previous bad guy would show up for revenge just when they were hot on the trail of the latest one.

It was a hell of a lot of fun.

Then one fateful day trouble struck. It was the dreaded TPK. No one did anything wrong, except they rolled really bad, and I rolled good (or high at least), and they just wouldn't quit, and one by one the PCs went down.

They were near the climax of a long-running adventure. The villain—truly the best sort, a minor cult cleric who escaped them once by dumb luck and then continually returned to cause them grief, returning ever-stronger each time—was before them, all his avenues of escape lost, and they vowed to “get him his time!” one way or the other. This fellow, one Selyular (but forever just known to this day as “the evil cleric”), had killed their key allies, eluded them several times (fairly), and once even threw them all, sans equipment, into a carrion crawler-infested cave system to die. It was their time now, and they weren’t going to pass it up. But as I said, fate intervened.

After the smoke cleared, we all discussed the situation. They had reached a hard-earned average of 4th or 5th level (this was the 2e era), and no one really wanted to roll up new characters. They wanted to “finish the story, dammit!”

Given their rather thief-like outlook, strong guild affiliation, and general nature, I decided that Olidammara (laughing scoundrel that he was) took pity on these poor mortals and decided to raise them, en masse, for another shot at life. (In those days I didn’t think or worry about what the death god might have said about that…) This was deus ex machina at it’s worst no doubt, but the players ran with it. There were penalties, of course. They lost experience, magic, and returned with but 1 hp each. Worship of Olidammara (spell that backwards!) was near mandatory, and the party cleric immediately went from worshipping Pholtus to worshipping the Laughing Rogue, with an appropriate if hasty change in abilities and spheres.

In the end, they tracked the evil cleric back to the cult’s big hideout, sacked the place, and chased the cleric and his strongest henchman on horseback until in a field just south of Elredd they personally sent him to his maker. The reboot allowed them to play the adventure they wanted, with the characters they wanted, and it ended up increasing the challenge. It seemed a good alternative to simply letting a multi-sided piece of plastic flop the wrong way and ruin it all. Later many creative PC decisions flowed from the reboot as well. It worked.

Recently I’ve seen creative frictions hamper game play among my older co-players, and I’ve also happily had the chance to roll the dice with some new faces, and I’ve also considered the rebooting factor of new groups and fresh blood, and the welcome breath of fresh air they breathe through the hair of even the most jaded gamer.

Used sparingly, RPG reboots (of all kinds) aren’t always a bad thing.

3.5e, the Good, the Mixed, and the Ugly...

2007-11-23T13:08:00.000-05:00

As promised, here we go...

Here’s a few observations—nay opinions, and strong ones at that!—about Third Edition:

The Good

1. It’s a unified system.
Everything makes sense and works logically together. Skills are based on a relevant (well usually) ability. Making a skill check is Ability + Skill ranks + roll. Pretty logical. Other systems work together well.

2. Easy “to hit” rolls.
Low-level combat is easy for the DM. Forget those old 1st Edition combat tables! Forget the much-ridiculed THAC0 mechanic. The monster’s AC is the total roll needed to hit, period; if the PC reaches that number, they hit. I’m so glad we moved away from a negative number AC system.

3. Feats.
Now all 10th-level human fighters need not be the same! Personal customization is key. Receiving additional feats and abilities greatly add to the fun of leveling up.

4. Magic-users are fun again.
It’s great to have wizards and sorcerers with more spells. In the old days, you fired off your daily sleep spell at 1st level and then hid behind the fighters. Now wizard-types can mix it up pretty well, without making the fighters feel weak or useless.

Mixed

5. It’s a unified system.
The integrated system lauded in #1 above can also make customization more difficult. Don’t like attacks of opportunity? Throw them out … but look out for the PCs or monsters with the Combat Reflexes feat… Retooling the system just got a bit more difficult.

6. Miniatures use.
Using miniatures has now become almost de rigueur for D&D gamers. The game has a much more tactical feel. I personally like minis, and I like knowing how far I can move in combat (especially having suffered as a player under poor DMs that slow PC movement unfairly while letting their favorite villains move about in combat like the Flash). I do know some players that hate the new, chess-like aspect of combat, however. I’ve often seen crazy, zig-zag movements to avoid attacks of opportunity that don’t jibe with heroic combat at all, so at times I can understand the criticism.

Ugly

7. Long stat blocks.

Years ago I tried the Mythus game system with a bunch of friends. We played through a dungeon of two using the very Gygaxian rules … and then stopped. One of the main reasons, beyond all the new abbreviations and odd rules quirks, was the loooooong stat blocks. (Pick up a copy of Necropolis sometime—which makes the Tomb of Horrors look like a day at the beach, by the way—and look at the BBG’s stats at the end and you’ll see what I mean.)

My first thought when we abandoned the system was, “God, I hope D&D doesn’t ever look like this. Skill-based stat blocks are pure hell.” Well, flash forward 10 years…
I hate the super-long stat blocks for bad guys at CR 8 and higher. Hate ‘em. Scanning a stat block for a super-villain is ridiculous—what does he do next? I understand providing all the spells for a 20th-level wizard/fighter, for instance, but do we really care if he has a flare spell? Would he really use that spell? Ditto for listing many of the prerequisite feats. It just doesn’t seem necessary.

It appears this problem is being adjusted in 4e. I’ll keep my fingers crossed.

8. Advancing monsters.
I’ve heard differing views on this one, so I’ll chalk it up to personal taste. I’m not a math guy. I have a very logical brain but my SAT scores were fairly lop-sided. So when it comes to computing stat blocks … well, meh.

I think advancing creatures—be it advancing a beast or leveling up a humanoid— is a royal pain. I like having War10 kobolds, etc., to keep the players on their toes (I can see the ad: “Kobolds aren’t just for 1st level anymore!”) but the DMs work just grew big-time. Check out the otyugh-advancing example in the back of the MM. This brings to mind a likely series of events:

DM spends a half-hour advancing an otyugh up 10 hit dice.
The two wizardly PCs dispatch the critter with two simultaneous fireballs.
The DM, suppressing a sob, leaps out the nearest window.

In the 1st or 2nd Edition days, creating a gnoll commander went pretty much like so: increase his HD by 3, give him 3d8 extra hit points, bump up his armor, and give him a magic axe. Done, five minutes!

Now let’s make a gnoll commander, say a Ftr4, in 3rd Edition: first we select the feats, then we compute the skill points and ranks (adjusting for class, synergies, armor, and racial bonuses)… Eech. Yes, if you’re running a home game you could probably leave out his Swim or Rope Use skill values and take some short cuts, but if you are writing for publication or want to be by-the-book, the DM’s job just got a whole lot harder.

9. Fast leveling, slow play.
Level advancement in 3.5e is too fast for my tastes. I agree that is shouldn't take years and years of game play to see PCs level up, but in my experience 3rd Edition PCs level up every other session in the lower levels—first and second level seem to flash by—and it seems that the players barely get used to their PCs before they’re tacking on new feats.

Likewise, gameplay has generally slowed down. Combat at higher levels is painful—for the players and DM, not the PCs and monsters! A dramatic final combat can take hours.

Creating characters on the fly is also a chore. In 1e, an experienced player can create a fully-equipped 10th-level PC in 15 minutes if they aren’t overly fussy about mundane equipment. Creating that same PC in 3e/3.5e probably takes an hour.

10. Third Edition is a powergamer’s dream.
Part of this falls under DM responsibility and control over one’s players, but the new system makes number abuse very tempting. Third edition has made charisma less of a “dump stat” and has balanced out the abilities fairly well, but there are other areas where “clever players” (read: munchkins) can build unbalanced characters via bizarre class combinations—I’ve seen some absurd combos online to be sure—or weapon and feat choices. Spiked chain, anyone?

A recent Wizards column spoke about Power Attack and how the feat was meant to represent a warrior’s ferocious swing in combat but instead led to most players coldly min-maxing their bonuses to get the best “bang for the buck” in combat—some minor abuses are very common.

11. Poor grappling rules.
I guess some things never change!

Detroit (White)rock City

2007-11-15T23:09:00.000-05:00

This past Saturday was the Goodman Games’ Castle Whiterock (DCC # 51) release party at Gamer’s Gambit in Fairlawn, New Jersey.

I tromped down into the Gambit “dungeon” to find Adrian Pommier already hard at it—running a table-full of eager adventurers through the caves of Whiterock. (Actually Whiterock has all types of environments, including underwater, but this was mostly a cave level.) As many Gen Con tourney players can no doubt attest, Adrian is a kick-ass DM, and it was great seeing him comfortably run the PCs through their paces. Soon I was offered the sole spare character—a bard*—and despite a raging fever (I had spent much of the week fending off a fierce bug, almost ankheg-sized at that), I got sucked into the action. Play in Whiterock? Sign me up.

Jeff LaSala and his wife Marisa participated, as did Adrian’s wife CJ, and Whiterock co-author Chris Doyle hovered about at the ready, lending aid and handing out copies of the Sinister Secret of Whiterock (DCC # 51.5) as needed. Adrian’s got a great play style, and I found myself forgetting my spinning head and getting pulled into the adventure-in-progress. Our party was fighting its way through a cave level of the mega-dungeon, fighting off giant ants, mountain troglodytes of all types, and hideous demonoid-looking frog spawn. The mountain trogs were an unexpected treat—its not often one gets “on the wrong side” of one’s own monstrous creations and I had never actually encountered them as a player (I understandably DMed all the playtests for The Scaly God). This level had mountain trogs raised a notch, including what might have been the biggest, baddest trog of them all! I won’t spoil the surprise, suffice to say that Adrian’s description of a huge creature with arms like trees sauntering toward us got everyone’s attention. It was a great few hours—the type that pass too fast—and it’s a great dungeon. Get ‘em while they’re available, folks. (Me, I had Mike Ferguson bring me back one from Gen Con—something he probably cursed me for on the plane ride as the boxed set must weight 15 pounds! Thanks Mike!) I congratulate Adrian and Chris on their big, bad dungeon and I hope one day to explore its fabled halls once again.

*I’ve never played a 3rd Edition bard … ever. I don’t have anything against them, but it just never worked out that way. So this was kind of funny. And when I tell my regular players, they’ll find it amusing indeed. Let’s just say the bard was quicker with his rapier than his lute. Call me impulsive.

Halloween Treats

2007-10-28T15:07:00.000-04:00

Halloween weekend in my house always includes a few frightening movies, played back-to-back and viewed with friends (beer, coffee, and chips also in abundance). This year, in addition to a few “scary” Three Stooges shorts inserted to break up the gloom, were two offerings I had never seen before: The Descent (2005) and Saw (2004). I often prefer older, classic movies—such as The Omen—so this year I went for the new(ish).

The Descent

This movie involves a group of six women who partake in a yearly adventure-sport outing. Shortly after a white water rafting trip in Scotland, Sarah (Shauna Macdonald) loses her husband and young daughter to a grisly automobile accident. Her strong-willed friend Juno (Natalie Jackson Mendoza) and Beth (Alex Reid) convince her to join the next expedition—a caving excursion in a scarcely populated area of North Carolina.

After arriving and entering the cave system, things begin to go badly wrong. The women are trapped by a cave-in, and Juno admits that, rather than exploring the ‘boring” cave system they had planned to visit, that she purposefully led them to an unmapped, unexplored cave system. The ladies hunt for a way out, struggling with injuries, short supplies, and each other, and just as things can’t apparently get worse they do—something else in the caves is alive and wants to feed on them.

The film worked for me. This is straight-up horror. The film-makers don’t bother with gratuitous topless scenes or silly humor—this is pure horror, like it or not.

The six characters, while not all well defined, are realistic and reflect all stripes from the reckless and headstrong to the meek and over-cautious. All the major food groups of horror are represented: claustrophobia, darkness, fear of heights, painful injury, being trapped, being hunted, and friends you cannot trust. Jump-at-you scares are coupled with rising dread well. My biggest complaints: at times, especially as the action picks up in the last third of the movie, it’s difficult to tell whom is with whom or where people are in the caves; the creatures also could have used a slower revelation, in that once the women become clued in that they may not be alone, the creatures are there in abundance attacking them. The creatures themselves, described as “crawlers” in the credits, were well played and frightening. Watching this film definitely helps put the fright back into visions of RPG explorers wending their way through dark cave systems.

Saw

This film has become a popular franchise, so a I knew it was just a matter of time before I saw it. For the uninitiated: the plot of this first installment finds two men, Dr. Lawrence Gordon (Cary Elwes) and Adam (Leigh Whannell) awaking in a dirty room, chained to the wall. Neither one appears to know the other. They discover cassette tapes in their pockets and, after obtaining a recorder clutched in the palm of a corpse lying between them, play the tapes. They are being held captive by Jigsaw, a serial killer know for placing his victims in devious deathtraps where they must undertake almost unthinkable actions to survive. Following slim clues, they find hacksaws that are too thin to cut the heavy chains that bind them … but perfectly adequate for cutting off their feet. Meanwhile Dr. Gordon is told that he must kill the increasingly untrustworthy Adam by 6-o-clock—or his family will die.

For a series of films known for its gore (the third installment is reputed to be particularly gruesome) I found this film very “blood light” and far more of a mental exercise. This is not to say it doesn’t work—it does. At times the plot gets stretched a bit thin, and the film must be viewed tongue in check, but watched in that light I thought it to be an effective, interesting bit of psychological horror. I was happy to see Danny Glover in the role of an obsessed detective, and Cary Elwes and Leigh Whannel (who also co-wrote the movie) turn in reasonable performances.

I wish everyone a Happy Halloween!

Bringing a Map to Life

2007-10-21T12:26:00.000-04:00

It was with great delight that I saw the recent-most work of None the Wiser, an architectural illustrator by profession, on the Goodman games message boards. None has already lent his expertise to Wildsgate from Into the Wilds (DCC # 28) and Kyarovsk (and other far wilder locales) from Talons of the Horned King (DCC #36), so I couldn't wait to see what he could do with The Scaly God. I certainly wasn't disappointed! Check out a sample:

None also included several awesome "beauty shots" and should be posting more SG work after he works on other projects. I can't wait.

The main thread on the GG boards may be found here.

Ever since Ravenloft castle, and Sutherland's incredible map of Strahd's castle, 3-D maps and level break-aways have proved invaluable to players and DMs alike in conveying a better sense of layout and view that simply cannot be reflected in flat, static maps on graph paper. I encourage DMs to make use of sketches, alternate views, 3-D views, physical props—I once plopped down a working, medieval-style hand crossbow on a table during a session to imply the threat made by a guard, and I've brought crystal balls and bags of gemstones to use in sessions as well—anything that can help your players visualize the fantastic realm they are exploring. The architectural (and structurally accurate!) renderings that None produces are a wonderful example of such a tool that makes the dungeons more real.

Here's to None the Wiser and his outstanding work!

1e, the Good, the Mixed, and the Ugly...

2007-10-04T00:13:00.000-04:00

Here’s a few observations—nay opinions, and strong ones at that!—about First Edition:

The Good

1. It was first.
I could dedicate a whole post (or blog) to my wonderful memories of First Edition. For many of us, it was our first experience with a role-playing game, and, in my humble opinion, D&D is still the best. I’ve experimented with other game systems, but I always find my way back to good old D&D.

I love the old adventures, some of which are shockingly old and shockingly deadly, and sometimes I wonder just how much nostalgia comes into play when folks say they like a particular old module. Was the Tomb of Horrors really the best “killer tomb” ever—or simply the first killer tomb that player ever experienced? Like the Tootsie Pop, the world may never know.

2. Simplicity.
Drawing up a 9th-level character for a one-shot even couldn’t be easier. If it’s a fighter-type, deciding on equipment and magic items will probably take longer than actually rolling up the PC.

Likewise, adjusting bad guys isn’t anything to break a sweat over. Need a gnoll commander? Bump up his hit dice and hit points, give him better armor and perhaps a magic spear and you’re done. No fancy Excel sheets needed, thank you very much.

Mixed

3. Total DM control.
For all the charts and tables, 1e left a great deal of power in the hands of the DM. There are no attacks of opportunity … unless the DM wills it. Criticals? Ask the DM. How are magic items created? Ask the DM. Special maneuvers? Say it with me now … ask the DM!

The game experience could vary wildly on the flavor of the DM’s home world or campaign style (something that hasn’t changed completely, but has lessened).

4. Plug and Play.
Don’t like a smaller part of the rules? You can probably pull it out and ignore it. Don’t like weapon speed factors—throw ‘em out! (Gygax did! He never played with them.) On the flipside, this led to a crazy quilt game of sorts, with various disparate parts that never seemed to be part of one seamless whole. Roll d20 for this, roll d100 for that, roll d6 for secret doors and surprise … it was dice chaos.

Ugly

5. Weak spellcasters.
Gary Gygax’s master plan for spellcasters—mages specifically (or Arcane casters for you 3e folks)—was for them to start off the weakest but to ramp up their power level until they were the strongest character type in the game by 12+ level. It was a cool idea, having varied power progressions. Every 1e player soon learned that thieves raced through the early levels, whereas clerics and fighters were steady and sub-class fighters, monks, and magic-users followed their own, often slow, pace. Yes, cool concept. Trouble is, most players never reached 12th level or higher with their magic-users. Level advancement was slow in those days, and because mages were so damned frail they rarely lived long enough to cast fireballs, forget time stop.

6. Fighters were a bit too strong.
A part of this leads in from number 5 above, but the high number of magic items for buffing fighters and their higher number of hit points makes this the class to beat at least until 6th level or so. Unlike 3e, there are no penalties for wearing heavy armor so the “meat shield” theory is taken to the max here. Wear platemail, run for miles, and swim? Sounds good (unless the DM rules otherwise; see number 3). The addition of some powerful, no time limit/charge magic items—the girdles of giant strength come immediately to mind—could make an average fighter into a real killer too.

7. Poor pummeling/grappling rules.
I guess some things never change!

A Throwback Night

2007-09-21T19:24:00.000-04:00

My current group of players recently decided to scale back our regular play, because of the ridiculous work schedules and family obligations we face. We were moving along nicely in Paizo’s third adventure path, Savage Tide, about half-way through the second adventure, when reality intruded and my one friend scaled back his involvement to a "once every 6-8 weeks" level.
The upshot is, after some discussion, we decided to truncate the AP and immediately switch to things that would require less continuity. I suggested we switch to “one-nighters” or adventures that were basically self-contained and could be resolved in 2 or 3 nights, maximum. We also decided to be totally flexible with regard to PCs, even using pre-generated characters and not forcing ourselves to stick with a set group given the long gaps between play sessions. It meant sacrificing much roleplaying, something we had actually tried to increase (we play a fairly tactical game), but it would be easier given the circumstances—more akin to a good boardgame but yet keeping the dice rolling, so to speak.

We normally rotate DM duties (each of us would take a turn for each slice of the AP), so I offered to DM for my overwhelmed friend. I needed something fast and dirty. It’s important to know that our entire group, small though it is, has been playing some form of the game for 20 years, so were all D&D veterans. I decided on a radical change of pace — 1st Edition D&D, pre-generated characters, with a random module selection decided the night off play.

I gathered the troops and labeled four modules with numbers 1 through 4. I selected classic modules I had at hand, that included pre-generated PCs, and that I thought were good. They varied wildly:

#1 Tomb of Horrors (yes, that Tomb of Horrors!)
#2 Lost Shrine of Tomoachan
#3 The Lost Caverns of Tsojcanth
#4 Mordenkainen’s Fantastic Adventure (better known these days as Maure Castle)

Dice were rolled and it came down to #1 and #4. Discretion is the better part of valor, and they chose #4. I dragged out the PC sheets and ancient books including my 2nd copy of the Player’s Handbook, guts falling out, inner flap — we noted to our amusement — autographed by Gary Gygax in 1988 (almost a 20-year “antique”)!

As the night went on I was happily surprised … it was a great deal of fun. I fumbled with improvised Intelligence checks (no Spot or Search checks to be had), there were no attacks of opportunity (to the delight of one player), and combat was deadly.

LIGHT MODULE SPOILERS BELOW—you were warned

At one point early on, the PCs entered a certain trapped chamber and Rigby the cleric was soon less one magic hammer … which led to bemused cries of “This is so Gygax!” (I explained it was more Robert Kuntz than Gygax, but the point was taken!)

In time, just before we broke for the night, the adventurers completed their sacking of the first level by reaching the area inhabited by the “Terrible Iron Golem” —those familiar with Maure Castle know exactly the heavy-duty critter I’m speaking about here.
Before the smoke cleared, Mordenkainen was prone, deadly poison flowing through his veins (DM liberty changed an instant death into a round-by-round struggle for life), and the troops were rallying to his aid at top speed. Yrag slipped on his ring of invisibility, grasped a special magic sword, belted down his precious potion of storm giant strength and ran to the attack. Bigby and Rigby swooped down on their magic carpet, Bigby blasting away with magic missiles, only to find themselves soon riding a carpet of ash to a rude crash-landing on the hard marble floor below, thanks to the golem's firey breath. Yrag tore into the golem ferociously and the golem responded by hovering above him and hurling its massive, poison-coated sword down at him…

Needless to say, Mordenkainen was rescued, the golem was felled, and the exhausted players filed out at approximately 3 am. The night was a good lesson that it’s good to be open-minded about editions in these “edition war” days, and that D&D—regardless of version—has always been a great game, despite its faults.

END SPOILERS

The session (which will be continued) helped clarify in my mind the things I prefer in 1st Edition or 3rd Edition, and how some things have improved at the direct detriment of other things. I hope to address these items in my next installment. Stay tuned!

And now the news...

2007-08-17T01:41:00.001-04:00

It would appear that Dungeons & Dragons 4.0 has arrived (or at least been announced), and the hordes at Gen Con are getting some small details as to the direction the game is going. My reaction to the news? Many questions. How will this effect the Open Game License / SRD? (I heard that the OGL will thankfully continue, but details are scarce.) How good will the online utilities actually be? Will the game become even more miniatures oriented? It’s a frightening time, especially for d20 authors, but also a very exciting time, to be sure.

The coming days will hold many answers, and I can’t wait.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention here my meeting with Mike Ferguson this past weekend. (Check out Mike’s blog here! And if you haven’t checked out Mike’s Goodman Games modules and other products [such as the Known Realms boxed set, which he co-wrote with Jeff LaSala and Harley Stroh], I heartily suggest you do.) Mike is a fantastic guy, and he has an infectious enthusiasm for gaming and writing that shows; before I knew it we had spent a few fast hours sitting over pizza, chatting away about the RPG business. Assuming this 4e news doesn’t rain on our parade, I can think of nothing better than a future combined project—it would be interesting indeed to see what our “fevered minds” can create together. Some of our talk involved just such a prospective project, and I hope all comes to pass.

To the future!

Start the Fantastic with the Real

2007-06-06T22:08:00.000-04:00

Part of the fun of RPG adventure writing, for me at least, is the act of creating something from nothing. Spinning a saga whole-cloth from the old Grey Room is a fine art, and when the process works and you can sit back and examine what you’ve created and … well, it’s great. Sort of like enjoying a gourmet meal you spent all day cooking, to use an easy culinary analogy.

Trouble is, our brains often follow a similar track. Not mine to yours, but mine to mine. If I create one dungeon, I’ve got to be careful to make the next one different, and so on. It’s easy to get into a mental rut. If I design a underwater sahuagin palace with the same standard outer guard rooms as my last orc cave complex, what’s the point? They might as well all be orc complexes.

Some RPG authors are good at keeping things fresh. Gary Gygax wrote three giant lair modules and each one presented a unique giant lair. That's adventure writing. But for most of us, it's more of a challenge to keep things fresh.

I’ve finally come to realize that using the real world for inspiration isn’t a bad thing. Our real world is loaded with inspiration. So is our media. Seen a good movie lately? Have a favorite old Star Trek episode? Remember a creepy gothic story? (Go H. P. Lovecraft! Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn!) Hear about some political machinations on public radio? Read about a devious murderer finally brought to justice? It’s all good fodder for the mill. Sometimes the mere act of watching a fantasy movie—even a cheesy one—is enough to jump-start my mental engine. Take ideas when they appear and run far with them.

Real world cultures are also a fantastic inspiration. The other day I watched a dog show on television and I was boggled as to the sheer number of breeds of every size and shape out there (and yes, I know man custom breed many of them, don’t spoil my fun). In a similar fashion, the range of cultures that have inhabited our planet blows my mind. Eskimos, Viking warriors, samurai, Hopi Indian, Aztec, … it goes on and on. All these cultures have art, homesteads, rituals, clothing, religion, ways of war, methods of surviving, etc., all unique to them. Compare ancient Japanese armor to Middle Age European armor—very different, yet both fairly effective for their time. All armor doesn't have to be the same. And all dungeons need not be the same either.

Currently I’m working on a potential project and I’m using the Anasazi, Mayan, Aztec, and American Indian (Sioux and Chippewa /Ojibwa tribes, and others) as inspiration in developing several humanoid cultures and customs. Does this mean my humanoids believe in Thunderbirds or Huitzilopochtli? Not quite. But perhaps my humanoid tribe leaves petraglyphs on rock walls. Perhaps they sacrifice prisoners to their god. Maybe they even play a primitive ball game, not unlike pitz.

When I envision weird temples or ruins, I might think of Tulum or Stonehenge, or when I create a castle, I might think of Cardiff Castle; to name three real-life places that I was able to visit in person that later had a direct effect on my writing. My current ruin-muse is Angkor Wat (haven't gotten there yet, unfortunately).

The idea is to draw upon the basic ideas, the things that make you interested, and make them your own. Soon all your dungeons won't look the same anymore, and your readers and players will thank you for it.

Fringe Benefits

2007-05-17T22:53:00.000-04:00

The other day a got a reminder of one of the fringe benefits that comes with creating published work, especially adventure writing.

There's no denying that part of the joy of being a writer is knowing others actually read your work (or, dare we say it, enjoy it too). That's where it's at. Getting your name on the cover is cool, and getting the check in the mail ain't bad either, but an unread book or adventure is a play performed before an empty house. Unread work lies, to an author's pain, in the drifty realm of the lost, the abandoned, and the nugatory. The work simply isn't complete until that magical bond between writer and reader is forged. In the case of adventure writing, there exists a further level, because getting them to actually play it becomes the highest pinnacle.

Years ago (many years ago actually, it's scary how they go by) I had a good-length adventure published in Dungeon magazine. Chris Perkins, bless his soul, had recently taken over as editor and took the first thing I sent him. There were bumps in the road—oh yes—my query got misplaced in their offices, I was return-mailed some else's manuscript at one point, and when it was revision time they informed me that their policy had changed and they were now, mid-stream, lowering the maximum length of all adventures, including mine. I had to cut nearly 6,000 words, pages of good material that survived the editor's red pen untouched, from the manuscript. Still, they took it and printed it and I was a very happy camper.

A year or two later (still back in the Milwaukee days) I attended Gen Con with a friend, and I found myself squatting before a vendor's bookshelf loaded with old TSR mags. Next to me a fellow gamer was flipping through the Dungeons and his hand lingered on mine for a moment. I longed to open my mouth and cry "Take that one! Inside is the best damn adventure ever!" but in the end I smiled and turned back to my own shopping (to the best of my knowledge, he bought a different issue).

Two weeks ago I was standing in a hobby store, thumbing through the latest WotC hardcover (they seem to come out on a weekly basis these days) and two gents walked by me, chatting about the Dungeon Crawl Classics line. My ears perked up, and I continued to scan the text before me whilst opening my sound holes a bit wider to catch the drift of what they were saying. They drifted over to a metal rack about 10 feet away, one of those spinning numbers, loaded with DCC adventure modules.

"Yeah, some of them are pretty good," the first guy said. I couldn't hear the reply, but it seemed to be in agreement. He pointed to a module on the far side, out of my viewing range.

"This one was pretty decent," he said, gesturing with an index finger. His eyes moved rapidly over the books, discarding a module and quickly moving to the next. He pointed to another. "And this one was really good..."

I waited as the rack spun and the module I authored came into view.

"And this one was a good one," he said, with a last decisive jab of his forefinger. He was pointing at mine.

And l happily bit my tongue.

The End of an Era

2007-04-19T22:56:00.000-04:00

It is with incredible sadness that I make this post. The startling announcement that Wizards of the Coast deicided to terminate Paizo’s license to produce Dragon and Dungeon magazines took me and a host of others by surprise. It seems WotC feels the in-print magazines will compete with their coming online venture.

I grew up with both magazines. I picked up Dragon #42 (pictured, center above) on a whim at a California gaming store and was soon hooked. My start with Dungeon began with #5. I guess that makes me a pretty old gaming geek!

I love the magazines. They've had their ups (the "old" Dragon!) & downs (the mid-90s Dragon) but the magazine provided the best, hands down, regular source of gaming material, particularly in the pre-Internet age. I'm highly computerized and no Luddite—I once worked in hardware repair for years and now check my e-mail habitually—but nothing beats having a real, printed, paper magazine sitting in my hands. I've got boxes full of the old ones and even after getting my hands on the ultra-hard-to-get (at least for less than a prince's ransom) Dragon 250-issue CD Set I still prefer digging into my old cardboard boxes and getting out the real thing.

My first published adventure appeared in Dungeon #67. It was a great experience and taught me a hell of a lot about the RPG business, so the mag is dear to my heart. Dragon too found a home for my letters, including a running debate about the "TSR rules thugs"—I term I coined in those ancient pages that still gets laughs of recognition from the old-timers in online forums. The mags and their editors were kind to me.

Dragon and Dungeon were gaming institutions, and rightly so. The art and articles and cartoons that graced those mags over the years is drool-worthy and earned my respect (and money) long ago.

The most recent publisher (position-wise) of the magazines, Erik Mona, turned around the semi-failing Dungeon and stagnant Dragon and brought vibrancy back to both. Dungeon in particular has really shined this last few years. I wish the Paizo boys the very best with Pathfinder and their other projects, and I hope we truly haven't seen the last of these two great, venerable titles.

Easter Eggs

2007-04-06T23:55:00.000-04:00

I love Easter eggs ... the RPG adventure type, that is.

So-called "easter eggs" are the little hidden rooms or interesting areas tucked away in an adventure or dungeon, something that the player characters might discover if they are lucky, clever, or very unfortunate indeed. (I also like the humorous so-called easter eggs tucked away in modules—I've found many in old TSR modules—but that's a topic all its own & one I'll get to another day...) Goodman Games encourages their writers to add eggs into adventures, and some adventures have had some good ones. The GG adventure The Secret of the Smuggler' Cove had what might be the most fiendish I've seen—a cave shrine that may only be reached via a underwater swim. (As a certified SCUBA diver, I can tell you that cave-diving is more dangerous than most non-diver gamers would dream, which just adds to the appeal!)

The best adventure bits for me are the weird ones and the creepy ones. They don't have to be cleverly hidden or impossible to reach, just really interesting and "out of place" in the context of the overall dungeon with being totally jarring. This is not to say I dislike cohesive dungeons—I don't, and good adventure design fairly demands it—but those weird, mysterious touches get me every time. Gary Gygax was a master at this, and finding the little disturbing rooms he salted in his large dungeons was like biting into a big piece of jalapeno in the nacho heap—you knew it when you hit one.

A great example is his venerable Steading of the Hill Giant Chief. The module contains a two-room area on the lower level, just off to the side of the feuding humanoids, that contains a weird little temple and a "vestry" that basically amounts to a blocked passage.
The temple is tiny and bears little connection to the overall place, except to imply that once, long ago, the hill giants (or unknown others) worshipped things better left alone. The place had the standard Gygax descriptions that evoked multiple senses (there were "greasy feeling" columns there!) and it was short & sweet, yet creepy. The fact that a PC could go insane in the room didn't hurt. It was still the days of the 1st Edition, and characters acting greedy in weird temples usually came to bad ends, and quickly...

When I wrote my own The Scaly God (plugga plugga) I made a point of creating my own little weird temple as my easter egg. It's hard to find/reach, and it hopefully plays a bit of easter egg homage to E. Gary Gygax (note the initals—EGG) at the same time. When writing it, I tried to keep my own unique voice in the design as I always do, but all those weird temples over the years, from the awesome Giant series to the Forgotten Temple of Tharizdun, still burned in my brain and it showed. That's a good thing.

In real life, I detest eggs. But in when it comes to adventures, definitely serve me up a couple of easter eggs, weird side up.

Dinos and Rust Monsters

2007-01-05T15:35:00.000-05:00

It was long rumored that Gary Gygax once purchased a plastic bag of those little plastic dinosaurs (of the type you purchase in hobby and toy stores) and discovered a few odd critters in the bag. He promptly made them into D&D game creatures. The monsters created included the bulette and rust monster, and possibly others. This rumor has since been confirmed by the Master himself.

Many years ago I stopped into a KB-Toys on a whim, and there, sittting in a glass container on the counter loaded with rubber spiders and such was a tiny rust monster. I promptly grabbed it, paid for it (it was less than one dollar), and "Lucky the Rust Monster" has been tied to one string of my venerable dice bag ever since. That was sometime in the early 1980s.

I've since seen at least one other picture of a similar plastic critter—identical really, except for a bit more brown color—and confirmed as best possible that I have the same plastic monster EGG grabbed years before. So, without further ado, I present Lucky the Rust Monster...

(Thanks for the EN World folks for inspiring this post!)

Run Away!

2006-12-18T21:30:00.000-05:00

Is the act of running away a lost art?

A complaint I’ve heard more than once regarding player behavior in the age of Third Edition is “videogame style play”—more specifically, a style of behavior in which players have their characters fight, rest up, fight, rest up, ad nauseam, plodding straight ahead with little thought of serious problem-solving, alternate routes, or flight (especially the latter).
Now the videogame criticism is over-played by many RPG old-timers and often unfairly directed against many younger players in particular, but I do understand the point. The style of play described works fine in an electronic game such as Call of Duty, of which I happen be a fan, but in D&D the straightforward approach isn’t always the best or only route—and it shouldn’t be.

In this time of Third Edition ELs, CRs, and other alphabet soup game guidelines, it’s easy for players to be lulled into a false sense of security. They know a good GM follows these guidelines, so they trust that an adventure will be balanced with regard to PC levels. Taken at face value, this is fine—players have every right to expect that their characters will be neither unduly slaughtered nor so lacking for challenge that they will fall asleep. At a certain point however, this strains credibility. Why do purple worms never seem to lurk in the same cavern complexes populated by gricks or chokers? ("Well, because their challenge ratings are too far apart, you see...") Using the challenge levels properly also leads to an abundance of humanoids at the lower levels, I've seen.

I enjoy low-level play—there’s a real challenge when a few hits can really threaten your characters (and a possible critical hit on a PC becomes a truly terrifying event)—but I am soooo sick of the goblins. Getting from 1st level to 5th level without fighting goblins, hobgoblins, orcs, or kobolds is a near-impossible event. I like humanoids as much as the next guy, but the obligatory humanoid stomp on the way up the XP ladder is getting old. I’m an old 1st- and 2nd Edition player, and I’ve seen many, many characters of mine never get past 6th level, so maybe that’s part of the problem, I don’t know. As I said once to a friend of mine that is a great fan of low-level, humanoid-heavy play, “I’m getting tired of chalking up … I want to shoot pool* sometimes too.” Everybody likes a good, crowded kobold smash sometimes, and occasionally it even makes for good comic relief, but more often it’s the hydras and behirs and black dragons that make for the special battles we really remember.

The ability to level up nearly any monster or humanoid in Third Edition has added a welcome surprise factor (and added danger) to some of the more mundane encounters, but in this writer’s humble opinion there’s nothing wrong with the characters running away when needed. Adding one encounter per adventure that is a bit more than the PC party can chew isn’t a sin … it might be a welcome dose of reality.

In The Scaly God, I added an encounter that was extremely dangerous—one that any sensible party would back away from if the scene if GMed properly. I went as far as to include a warning note for the GM in the module, telling her that it would be fair play to warn the party that real trouble lies ahead.

Richard Baker did something similar in his Forge of Fury adventure. In this 3rd-level adventure, there is an area in which dwells a roper. That’s right … a roper! Allowing PCs in a 3rd-level dungeon to possibly run into a CR 12 creature is perhaps madness, but Baker did it with style, including notes for the GM. Call me a heretic, but I see nothing wrong with this so long as the author and GM play fair about it.

Sometimes too much is too much, and, given some warning, the adventurers should realize that sometimes it’s best to skedaddle and live to fight another day.

*Lousy metaphor. As some of the Goodman Games folks can atest, I'm no pool shark.

The Surround Syndrome

2006-12-07T14:25:00.000-05:00

A constant conundrum when adventure writing—writing dungeon crawls specifically—is what I call the surround syndrome.

Any detailed lair inhabited by intelligent beings may well fall into this trap. The writer has carefully and plausibly populated each room, adding creatures here and there, balancing ELs (in the case of D&D 3.5), and so forth. The challenges have been balanced and made so that an adventuring party will be tested but not overwhelmed. So far, so good.

One problem: most intelligent races will employ an alarm system—guards, whistles, spy holes, what-have-you. This means that unless the intruding PCs are very careful, the dungeon inhabitants will soon become aware of their presence and send up the alarm. The result? All nearby creatures are made aware of the PCs' prescence and a stampede of reinforcements heads toward the adventurers at top speed.
Soon the adventurers are surrounded by a large host bent on their destruction and all thought of EL balance has gone out the window. Also, the GM now faces the additional problem of having the PCs explore a largely depopulated dungeon ... assuming the party survives the initial battle.

There are several classic modules that fall into this trap. Key among them were two all-time favorites of mine: Hall of the Fire Giant King (G3) and Shrine of the Kuo-Toa (D2). The former was particularly egregious—PCs entering the fire giant lair head past a hidden guard (who will promptly blow a warning horn), and even if the guard is somehow bypassed the soon-to-be found grand hall promises an encounter with the King, four fire giants, and two ettins, and other fire giants and creatures lurk well within earshot. In the case of the Shrine the party is directed straight toward a ziggurat—the very shrine mentioned in the title—where they could well be completely overwhelmed by angry fish men if they aren’t respectful and subtle in their actions.

There aren’t any easy solutions to the surround syndrome.
Intelligent humanoids and similar foes will almost certainly take obvious precautions in defending their lairs—guard posts, warning devices, and the like. To have creatures simply sit in their rooms, waiting for the PCs to arrive, is silly, especially if the intruders have spent the last 10 rounds fighting a huge battle one room away!
Similarly, I feel the layout of a dungeon should always be “realistic” (or as realistic as you can get in game where humans throw fire or teleport, but that’s a subject for another time) and monsters should be well placed as fits the overall layout. This is not to say that the level of challenge for a particular room or area isn’t a factor, indeed this is a GM’s most important adventure design factor (or one of them), but the dungeon should flow in an organic fashion and not be stunted in favor of allowing intruders easy access for sake of keeping PCs alive.

I suppose a possible solution is a bit of extra work on the dungeon creator’s part, when it comes to creature motivations and lesser changes to overall dungeon design.
Creatures should always have their own motivations, intelligent or not. A dumb or unintelligent monster, such as an ooze, may simply sweep a limited territory for food and not respond to distant stimuli. Intelligent creatures may have their own reasons for not joining a big fray or “stampede to attack the intruders” such as pride, cowardice, laziness, etc. A commanding cleric may hear a ruckus but decide to let his underlings handle the “minor” problem. A self-interested thief or humanoid may purposefully avoid combat unless their own skin is on the line. There are possibilities to be found.

In the case of my own The Scaly God, I tried to prevent total surround syndrome in an area populated with troglodytes by such motivations. In one cave, a subchief wishing to prove himself is purposely slow to ask for help when confronted with puny humans or demi-human intruders. In another cave female trogs are inclined to stay out, guarding eggs in a maternal fashion. In yet another cave lair, the wily trog shaman, if given warning of intruders, remains in his cave and prepares a clever ambush.

Ultimately such motivation tailoring may do more to “justify” PC survival in the GM’s mind, producing little difference to simply having monsters “play dumb”—this is debatable. I have found, however, that giving monstrous opponents clear motivations is extremely helpful to the GM in setting the scene and predicting behavior in the face of both expected and unexpected actions. If, for instance, the PCs attempt to parley with a humanoid, it’s extremely helpful to know whether that humanoid is greedy, cowardly, cocky, etc. Such motivations if properly developed can greatly enrich a dungeon or campaign.

Minor structural changes to the dungeon can also prevent problems, such as using multiple sub-levels to divide up the inhabitants or spreading out the inhabitants a bit (perhaps via less intelligent creatures interspersed amid the others). A dungeon layout may also delay the arrival of some alerted creatures, so the PCs face a few gradually spaced "waves" of arrivals.

Surround syndrome is a drag, to be sure, but not insurmountable. Perhaps with a little extra work and creativity, any GM can banish this vexing problem.

Taking the Test

2006-11-26T12:42:00.000-05:00

Hmm.

You scored as Tactician. The Tactician enjoys opportunities to think his way through complex problems, usually those of the battlefield. He prefers realistic (or at least internally consistent and logical) rules and settings. He likes to be able to picture a scene in detail, so that he can make good decisions and reap their rewards--he particularly hates playing without a battle mat or miniatures. The Tactician becomes annoyed when other players make unsound decisions, or when they plow into encounters without thinking them through. For the Tactician, the greatest reward in gaming is a challenging yet logical obstacle for his character to overcome.

Tactician

70%

Character Player

60%

Storyteller

50%

Casual Gamer

45%

Weekend Warrior

40%

Power Gamer

35%

Specialist

25%

What RPG Player (Not Character) Type Are You?
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Hrrrmf.