Archive for the ‘RPG Hub’ Category

the Little Lord Fauntleroy D&D campaign!

Friday, June 10th, 2011

D&D adventures based on a sentimental novel by the author of A Little Princess?

“There is a place,” said Fauntleroy, looking up at him with wide-open, horror-stricken eyes – “Dearest has seen it; it is at the other end of the village. The houses are close together, and almost falling down; you can scarcely breathe; and the people are so poor, and everything is dreadful! Often they have fever, and the children die; and it makes them wicked to live like that, and be so poor and miserable!

High-level D&D characters share a problem with Little Lord Fauntleroy’s grandfather (a crusty old aristocrat with a heart of gold). What the heck do you spend your money on?

3rd edition and early 4th edition D&D expects characters to buy their own magic items, but in other editions, it’s pretty easy to pile up piles of money and have nothing to spend it on. Besides money, D&D characters often accumulate honors (knighthoods, noble titles, etc).

Have a horrified NPC describe the miserable conditions on one of the PC’s new properties. It’s the PC’s responsibility to spend lots of money to fix things!

This might successfully drain money, but will it be FUN? It might be – if the DM imposes complications. People love to overcome complications. Maybe things don’t go well right away: someone is embezzling building funds, and the PCs need to find out who; or a criminal organization moves into the newly renovated village.

When everything has been worked out, the PC’s land becomes an idyll, and the PC starts getting some benefit from it. Maybe the PC gets rent income, or the ability to raise a loyal militia.

I wouldn’t run this as a full-scale adventure. Rather, I’d have this be a continuing mini-game where the PC make a few quick decisions every time they returned to town, either at the beginning of the session or maybe over email.

where did Iron Rations come from?

Thursday, June 9th, 2011

Old school D&D players resonate to the term “Iron Rations”, but where the heck did it come from? Is it even a thing?

1983 Basic equipment list.

1983 Basic equipment list.

From Wikipedia:

“Iron Ration”

The first attempt to make an individual ration for issue to soldiers in the field was the “iron ration”, first introduced in 1907. It consisted of three 3-ounce cakes (made from a concoction of beef bouillon powder and parched and cooked wheat), three 1-ounce bars of sweetened chocolate, and packets of salt and pepper that was issued in a sealed tin packet that weighed one pound. It was designed for emergency use when the troops were unable to be supplied with food. It was later discontinued by the adoption of the “Reserve Ration” but its findings went into the development of the emergency D-ration.

Apparently iron rations were based on World War I-era rations, something Gygax and his historical-war buffs friends would have been familiar with. I’d always assumed that the D&D iron ration was like a badass trail mix, or maybe a granola bar. The actual World War I iron ration sounds solidly less delicious than that. The chocolate bar sounds OK though.

I do remember reading a few adventure books from the World War I era where action-hero types ate chocolate in order to power up. Nutritionists must have recently discovered its energy-boosting properties. One instance I remember is in the Richard Hannay books (spy adventures by John Buchan, including The 39 Steps, later made into a Hitchcock movie). Richard Hannay is ALWAYS talking about chocolate; it is part of his standard adventuring kit, very much the way iron rations would be for a D&D character.

I just did a quick search on Google Books: in the four Richard Hannay novels, chocolate is mentioned 18 times. Usually it’s part of travelling food: “I have some food in my rucksack – biscuits and ham and chocolate”, “sitting on a rock munching chocolate and biscuts”, but it’s also used as a poor man’s stimulant: “I rubbed his arms and legs and made him swallow some chocolate.”

I wonder if this means that chocolate is canonically in the D&D universe now, the way it is in the Star Wars universe?

When Theory Meets Practice – Character Death

Tuesday, June 7th, 2011

There are a lot of interesting ideas for running D&D or making tweaks to the rules that sound really cool when you first think of them but that sadly don’t work out in actual play. I will explore many such ideas in this series: going over what makes the ideas attractive in the first place, explaining why they don’t work, and suggesting compromise solutions.

Major Consequences for Character Death: This sort of thing can range from requiring a quest to resurrect a fallen comrade, making resurrection more expensive, having greater penalties for coming back to life, or outright banning resurrection from your game world.

The Attraction: The way resurrection is handled in 4th Edition D&D feels a little too easy. You die, your friends pay 500 GP for a short ceremony (at heroic tier), you spring back to life with a -1 to hit for a few encounters, and then you are good as new. Shouldn’t dying be, I don’t know, a little more important than that?

The Hard Truth: It may feel a little cheesy to bring someone back from the dead with very few consequences, but the alternatives have a ton of downsides:

  • A Quest to resurrect: In other words, the rest of the party gets sidetracked for a session or two while the player with the dead PC sits around bored waiting to be brought back to life.
  • Characters can’t be raised from the dead: This has a couple of problems. Firstly, people are still going to die. D&D is a heavily combat focused game. If you want to challenge your players in fights, then character death is a real possibility. Secondly, the loss of a PC can really hurt a campaign, since characters tend to work themselves into the game world the longer they stick around, forming alliances, making enemies, and building a reputation, never mind the multitude of character based plot the DM might have planned. Losing several PCs at once can really derail a campaign, straining the sense of continuity as the DM tries to introduce new characters and keep things vaguely on track.
  • Resurrection is very expensive or has serious consequences: Really, these costs just tend to be high enough that the player is going to want to roll up a new character instead of paying them. Or, if they suck it up and get resurrected anyway, it will probably hurt their play experience in the long-term, since most people don’t like playing a sub-par character. Plus, it puts a lot of pressure on the DM to keep things balanced. If I run a tougher than normal encounter that kills Bingo, your beloved halfling rogue, you won’t take it too hard if you can jump back into the game with him relatively quickly without serious consequences, but if the party has to pay all their gold and Bingo has a limp the rest of his life and moves at half speed, suddenly the fight starts to look a lot less fair.

The Compromise: When a PC dies, I like to focus on the psychological consequences of the death (and resurrection), rather than the mechanical ones. Perhaps they feel like they don’t belong on this earth anymore (for a while at least), perhaps they vaguely recall the afterlife, or maybe they feel a renewed sense of purpose now that they have defeated death itself in pursuit of their goals. Or their death could bring on some wacky new plot twist, like a whispering spirit that somehow followed them from the underworld and tempts them to evil. The goal is to underscore the severity and awesomeness of rising from the dead without slowing the game down or making it less fun for one or more players.

Next week I will discuss what happens when you try to require quests to get powerful magic items or do away with magic items altogether!

a picture of every creature in the Monster Manual 1, where they live, and their level range

Monday, June 6th, 2011

Every creature in the Monster Manual

(Click for unreasonably large size)

I crammed pretty much every MM1 creature on one image.

Every monster has a level band, showing the level range between the highest and lowest version of the monster. Monsters are divided up according to their most common location: the planes, the wilderness, civilization, the sea, exotic lands, and the dungeon.

Although it’s not necessarily the best way to make encounters, you could cross-index the level and location of your party and see at a glance all the monsters they’re likely to encounter.

Assumptions:

  • For level band purposes, I’m ignoring minions, which I believe are game constructs for representing monsters of significantly lower level.
  • I’ve made a lot of judgment calls. Some creatures with planar origins are common in the natural world, but I only drew them once. I tried to rely on flavor text. A lot of undead can be found anywhere; I’ve somewhat arbitrarily split them between the wilderness and dungeon, depending on whether I associate them with crypts.
  • I didn’t plot monsters constructed by wizards, such as battlebriar, boneclaw, colossus, eidolon, flameskull, golem, guardian, helmed horror, homunculus, and zombie. I did include skeletons, which tend to outlast their creators.
  • I’ve also identified some monsters as “exotic”: creatures likely to be found on lost continents, distant deserts, and frozen wastes, not the magical Europe that most D&D campaigns start in. Culturally imperialist distinction? Perhaps.
  • I’ve generally anchored monster names at the bottom of the level bands because I think that the low-level versions usually represent the bulk of the species, and the high-level versions are usually leaders or champions.
  • An Amiable Charlatan

    Friday, June 3rd, 2011

    An Amiable Charlatan by E. Phillips Oppenheim

    An Amiable Charlatan by E. Phillips Oppenheim

    E. Phillips Oppenheim is an adventure author popular in the 30s whose novels are about sophisticated British gentlemen doing dashing things. Location is important, specifically restaurant location. Most of his books read like a cross between a spy novel and a Zagat’s guide.

    An Amiable Charlatan is no exception; much of the action takes place in the Milan Grill Room in London. That’s not particularly noteworthy in an Oppenheim book. What’s noteworthy, to me, is that this book is an elaborate answer to a question I asked a while ago: what use can be made of the 4e rogue power which allows one to stow an item on an unsuspecting target?

    The titular Amiable Charlatan, a pickpocket and swindler, must stow, like, 40 items on unsuspecting targets during the course of this book.

    The Charlatan makes the protagonist’s acquaintance by running into the Milan Grill Room and joining the protagonist for dinner. A moment later, cops run in and search the Charlatan for stolen jewelry: but it is too late, the Charlatan has already, unbeknownst to the protagonist, stowed the jewelry on the protagonist, who is far too respectable to be searched.

    Variations on this trick occur throughout the book. After a day of getting in scrapes with his amiable friend, the protagonist is constantly amazed to discover stolen pearl necklaces tucked in his pocket.

    The Charlatan also frames an unpleasant wedding guest by stowing wedding gifts in the guest’s pocket, and then accusing him of theft. When the guest is searched, the planted item is discovered – along with several other wedding gifts! Coincidentally, the guest really was stealing stuff! Irony? I’m not sure!

    In order to destroy evidence, the Charlatan also palms a counterfeit bill and stows a good one in its place.

    There’s also an incident where bullets are stowed in an unloaded gun, causing a heist to turn deadly. I think this also comes under the purview of the rogue power.

    Well, there’s that request fulfilled: I asked to hear about an irritating rogue career built around the Nimble Fingers power. I meant in a D&D game, but a novel will do as well.

    torches and lanterns

    Wednesday, June 1st, 2011

    There’s something I don’t like about 4e’s sunrods. They’re very practical, and my group uses them all the time:

    1983 Basic equipment list.

    1983 Basic equipment list.

    DM: Who has low-light vision?
    PC: I’m the only human, so I guess I don’t. I pop a sunrod and tie it to my hat.
    DM: Problem solved forever!

    Somehow, though, my memories of old school dungeoneering are lit by torchlight. The inconvenient micromanagement of who had the torch, and in what hand, brought the torch to players’ minds, and made me picture dungeon explorations in a flickering circle of light. Or is that just the flickering light of nostalgia? I can’t tell: I may have a tendency to mistake unnecessary busywork, like illumination and encumbrance calculation, for fun-enhancing realism.

    Torches

    Torches were also fun because in a pinch you could use one as a weapon. In some edition – first? – they did 1d6 damage, the same as a shortsword.

    Lanterns

    Price point aside, lanterns have some advantages over torches. D&D lanterns can be covered, so you can stay stealthy without totally extinguishing your light source. Also, you can presumably put down a lantern while you’re fighting, while I’m not sure that a dropped torch will stay burning. (I’m not sure if that’s covered in the rules either way.)

    Tinderboxes

    A tinderbox is an odd little item – it doesn’t really do anything, but it’s necessary to make your torches and lanterns work. Surprisingly, tinderboxes – or flint and steel – have survived, even in 4e. You’d think they would have been abstracted into the purchase of torches and lanterns at some point, since players so rarely think about them once they’re done their initial shopping trip.

    coral is beautiful… but evil

    Friday, May 27th, 2011

    Needle by Hal Clement

    Needle by Hal Clement

    For a sci fi book about sentient viruses who possess humans in order to solve mysteries, Hal Clement’s “Needle” has a lot of specific details about the ecology of Tahiti.*

    The protagonists – the human protagonists – are very aware of the dangers of the island. One of the worst is… coral??

    Apparently there’s some sharp coral out there, and if you really gash yourself open, you can be in trouble. There’s also something called “stinging coral”. Huh. I always thought that coral was just something pretty to look at while you drowned because your snorkel was clogged with seaweed.

    Let’s D&Dize coral!

    DAGGER CORAL: Anyone who moves into or starts their turn in dagger coral will be subject to many stab attacks, as the millions of heat-loving organisms all decide that they want to start a new life inside the PC. However, dagger coral has a defeatist attitude and gives up easily. Each successful attack by dagger coral will be followed by another attack, on the same turn, until the dagger coral misses. Once the dagger coral has missed a character, it will never attack the same character again.

    STINGING CORAL: Creatures who start a turn near stinging coral are subject to an attack that does ongoing poison damage. Furthermore, stinging coral is vicious. Every turn, the coral may add 5 squares to its area, as a Wall. It tries to extend itself to be adjacent to as many creatures as possible. Every hit on stinging coral destroys a square of the coral.

    BRAIN CORAL: Because brain coral looks like brains, it is obviously psychic, vastly intelligent, and evil. It can telepathically communicate with any adjacent creature. Since a single brain coral can extend for miles, brain coral can provide a lot of information about the local area. Brain coral tries to exert dominance over other creatures, although it prefers threats of violence to actual violence. If angered, it can destroy its own tissue in a massive psychic attack; unaugmented it attacks Will, and does 1d6 damage and Dominates the subject (save ends). For every square of brain coral permanently sacrificed, the attack does 5 extra psychic damage.

    * Are you sold on this book yet? How can you not be sold? That is a premise, friends.

    buying a 10 foot pole

    Wednesday, May 25th, 2011

    It’s always struck me as kind of weird that a 10-foot pole was something you bought at a store. What kind of store sold it? A carpetry supplies store? An adventurer store, sold specifically for the purpose of tapping suspicious flagstones in ruins? Speaking of flagstones, could the 10′ pole possibly have been sold as a flagstaff?

    1983 Basic equipment list.

    1983 Basic equipment list.

    The pricing of the 10′ pole has led to much mirth. The 10′ pole, unbelievably, made it as far as edition 3.5, where it sold for 2 silver pieces. A 10′ ladder sold for 5 copper pieces. The joke was always that for the price of a 10′ pole, you could buy 4 10′ ladders, remove the rungs, and end up with 2 10′ poles, which you could sell for a profit. Classic D&D economics.

    The 10′ pole is also a classic disappears-while-not-in-use item, like a wizard’s familiar. My mind’s eye picture of a 10′ pole is of a guy probing the floor with a stick that is clearly 5 or 6 feet long. 10 feet is about twice as tall as a person! Someone carrying one around would really have to have it in one of their hands, meaning they couldn’t have a shield or torch in their offhand. How else would you carry it? Strap it to your back? Horizontally? You’d have to turn sideways to go through doors. Vertically? You’d have to duck or bow. It would totally prevent you from crawling through any network of twisty little tunnels, all alike.

    Printable Mazes and Monsters game board

    Monday, May 23rd, 2011
    This entry is part 34 of 34 in the series Mazes and Monsters

    You probably remember sitting around with your friends playing Mazes and Monsters back in the 80s, but your mom threw away all your M&M stuff during the Tom Hanks Scare of ’82. And original Mazes and Monsters gamebooks are so hard to find on eBay! How are you supposed to play M&M retro clones?

    Problem solved! I’ve lovingly restored the Mazes and Monsters game board onto hand-crafted free PDFs. Just print out two of each PDF and tape them together.

    Mazes and Monsters board, bottom left and top right

    Mazes and Monsters board, top left and bottom right


    Between this and the Maze Controller’s screen, you’re just about ready to descend into a spiral of fantasy and madness. Candles not included!

    Coming in a week or two: Paper-doll minis, suitable for Mazes and Monsters, or for any game system that features fighters, holy men, and frenetics.

    rogue male

    Friday, May 20th, 2011

    Rogue Male by Geoffrey Household

    Rogue Male by Geoffrey Household

    Rogue Male is a spy chase story about an expert hunter and tracker on the run in Europe. Written in the late 30s, it might also be the first published story in the “What if you could kill Hitler?” genre.

    A D&D adventure about sneaking around in the woods might easily devolve into a series of Nature checks. What Rogue Male brings to the table, and what you should bring into your skill challenges, is specificity.

    Wilderness is not an undifferentiated mass of forest. There are swamps where a character might have difficulty resting, no matter what his Nature bonus. There are expanses of barren ground that you just can’t sneak across in bright daylight. A lot of skill challenge successes should actually require the PC to come up with a decent plan. Challenge PCs with specific situations, and require a plan of action, specific to the situation, before a skill roll is made. A PC who builds a raft to rest in the swamp, or hides in a wagon crossing the plain, gets to make a skill check.

    If I were running a spy adventure as an extended Nature skill challenge, I’d also introduce some randomness. If I need to repeatedly come up with terrain off the top of my head, it’s likely to become stereotyped and nonspecific. I’d be better to make random charts for terrain and habitation: maybe we’ll roll up peculiar stuff, like a cabbage farm in the middle of the desert, but that will help us tell a story.