monsters in the palace of eternity

June 17th, 2011

Bob Shaw’s “The Palace of Eternity” is a 1960’s sci-fi book featuring a pretty repellent alien race. They’re humanoid, except for

…the wide-set eyes, the two breathing mouths fluttering in the shoulders, and the vertically-slitted eating mouth on the central abdomen. […] The vital organs were externally positioned around the central spine, black and pale rubbery sacs which heaved and glistened wetly… and the aliens stank. […] A valve in the central alien’s lower gut popped loudly, spattering the other two with gray-and-white excrement.

Not a bad start for a horrifying Far Realms humanoid.

To start with, misplaced mouths are scary. This alien has three extra mouths, including a big “eating mouth” in his stomach.

There’s a lot going on here, so I’d make this creature a solo or elite monster. I’d make a fight against this monster a fight to stay away from the stomach-mouth. I’d give him long, multijointed arms, and have his main attack be to curl his arms, lover-like, around an opponent (a Grab), followed by an attack on the next turn which presses the victim tenderly against his chest, so that the eating mouth can start chewing.

The external organs are also fairly icky and should be spotlighted. I’d make them be separate targets which can be attacked by the PCs. A hit causes an explosion of vile fluids (a burst attack on everyone nearby) and ongoing damage to the monster as it leaks ichor.

The excrement is maybe too much, depending on how much you want to gross out your players. I’d change it to some vile-smelling acid, but keep some of the description the same (“A valve in the creature’s gut pops loudly, spattering acid on… [rolls dice]”

All in all, not a creature the PCs will want to fight a second time, especially the fighter who was half-chewed up by the monster’s torso teeth.

d&d and men’s jobs

June 15th, 2011

When I’m coming up with spur-of-the-moment NPCs, I have a bad habit of falling back on medieval gender roles. Unless I’m alert, I keep women out of certain NPC jobs.

In modern D&D, if you want to be a female barbarian with 18 strength, you can. Pronouns and sample characters in the 3e PHB and 4e are carefully mixed. (Although read John H Kim’s fascinating essay on gender roles in D&D and other RPG rulebooks: female sample characters in D&D books generally roll lower and get targeted by more attacks. But that’s beside the point.)

D&D is run by DMs, not rulebooks, though, so unconscious assumptions about gender archetypes will creep in. Thats why, in an anecdote I now can’t find, one of the 3e designers (Williams? Tweet? Cook?) designed NPCs first, and then flipped a coin for gender. This let him design an egalitarian world, despite whatever gender blinders he was wearing.

I always like to know what blinders I’m wearing, so I’ve been compiling a list of “men’s jobs:” NPC roles in which it doesn’t occur to me to put women. I’m going to try to change that, because unconscious stereotypes are boring and lead to the same types of NPCs appearing over and over.

Fence: I was designing a city for my picaresque thieves’ guild game, when it dawned on me that I could have my players sell goods to a female fence. Somehow this had never occurred to me. I blame literature, which has presented me with lots of examples of greasy, bearded old men acting as fences and pawnbrokers.

Come to think of it, I haven’t seen a lot of young men in this role either. My thieves’ world city has two fences known the the PCs: a greasy, possibly bearded old woman and an 8 year old boy.

Minion: D&D campaigns often feature lots of awesome female warriors, but where does that get you? 6 of the 12 Greek gods were female, many of them awesome, but ancient Greek women weren’t allowed to go outside.

I have some mental block that prevents me from putting women into the disposable minion category. Probably some gentlemanly impulse that it’s not OK to hit weak girls, but that it is OK to hit weak guys. But if there aren’t any low-level female fighters in the world, where do the high-level ones come from?

Sailor: Same deal as minions. My brain runneth over with pirate queens, but not with able seawomen swarming up the rigging to unfurl the mainsail. Sure, the Royal Navy, on which most shipboard fantasy is based, is a guys-only affair, but this is D&D, dammit! Women can have just as much aptitude as men for getting eaten by sahaguin.

Wizard: Some schools of magic suggest female NPCs and some do not. Enchantress? Sure. Witch? Sure. But I’m not likely to come up with a spur-of-the moment necromancer or alchemist woman.

Army officer: This is a strange one. The women I picture at the head of an army are usually warrior princesses, that sort of thing. Hereditary rulers. For some reason, I usually picture generals, colonels, and other high-ranking officers as male. What REALLY blows my mind is the idea of two armies facing each other, both led by a female general.

Innkeeper This one just occurred to me now: I have never, ever made up a jolly old female innkeeper. Barmaid, sure.

The next inn I make will be owned by a white-haired, talkative woman, probably with a name like “Tubbs”, who will do nothing but polish glasses and talk about broaching another cask of ale.

Farmer When I’m not careful, all the peasant women in my D&D countryside are farmers’ wives. In the D&D world, presumably property laws are egalitarian, and there are some gentlewoman farmers. Let’s get the ladies out there driving ploughs!

OK, with a few exceptions, these NPC jobs aren’t very high prestige. Maybe the women of my campaign world aren’t thanking me for their chances to become fences, peasants, and cannon fodder. Still. Breaking the glass ceiling! Or floor.

When Theory Meets Practice – Magic Items

June 14th, 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.

PCs Go on Special Quests to Obtain Magic Items: This is the kind of thing where a character or the party goes on a side quest to find an important magic item before continuing to the next big adventure.

The Attraction: What could be cooler than a side quest to retrieve your Holy Avenger? Or that cool Robe of Eyes you had your eyes on? A side quest really makes finding these items a fun unique experience. Not to mention it feels more realistic than just happening to pick up a holy avenger in the cyclops lair.

This sort of thing is a staple of fantasy literature. Furthermore, you do it all the time in rpg adventure games and in mmorpgs. Why not in D&D?

The Hard Truth: Side quests take too much time. Sad but true. In 4th edition, even a relatively simple adventure is going to take 2-3 sessions to complete and longer ones can take 6 or more sessions! A side quest, even if it’s just one fight and a little bit of buildup, is going to take a minimum of one entire session, unless you run super efficient games (which I don’t) or are willing to abstract the quest into a skill challenge (which could work).

Couple that with the fact that an average group is 4-6 people and that means A LOT of side quests if you want to give everyone equal play time and gear. Basically, unless you want your campaign to become a never-ending series of side quests (which might be okay), the whole notion is best avoided or saved for plot specific quests.

The Compromise: As stated above, you can always bite the bullet and try to capture the flavor of side quests but without all the pomp and circumstance. Maybe at the end of a big adventure, run a few quick skill challenges for players who are due for some loot and want to quest for a specific piece of gear. If they win the skill challenge, they get the gear. Otherwise, they have to wait a little longer or make do with another piece of equipment.

Alternatively, you can make the quest to get a powerful item part of the main adventure. Maybe the Blackguard villain wields a powerful cursed sword. However, when washed with holy water and placed upon an altar of Bahamut, it is transformed into the potent Holy Avenger! This method serves a double purpose of making the item feel more meaningful than some random bauble found in a treasure chest, and it makes the villain more unique. And of course a big benefit is that it doesn’t disrupt the normal flow of the campaign.

No Magic Items: In this campaign, there are NO magic items! Read the rest of this entry »

the silliest-looking 4e monsters

June 13th, 2011

Drawing every creature in the Monster Manual made me realize how many silly-looking and/or undifferentiated monsters there are. Sometimes the same basic monster concept seems to pop up all over the place. That’s fine for time-tested concepts like “badass skeleton man with glowing eyes” (flameskull, lich, deathpriest hierophant, skeleton, skull lord, wight) and “bondage chick with creepy eyes” (marilith, succubus, doppelganger, drow, eladrin, shadar kai, vampire), but who asked for all these

Bald guys with long tongues

atropal, blood fiend, abyssal ghoul, devourers, sorrowsworn, yuan ti

atropal, blood fiend, abyssal ghoul, devourers, sorrowsworn, yuan ti

I’ll give the yuan-ti a pass, because being bald and having a long tongue is what snakes do. The rest of you guys should be ashamed of yourselves. Abyssal ghoul! Put that back in your mouth this instant!

Guys who are helmets

archon, guardian, helmed horror, marut

archon, guardian, helmed horror, marut

There are some monsters, like the Death Knight, who are wearing helmets. These guys, though, all have heads that seem to be empty helmets. There might be some fire in there, but otherwise, that’s it.

guys who look like they’re wearing a stocking over part or all of their head

banshrae, bodak, choker, dryad, grimlock, nightwalker

banshrae, bodak, choker, dryad, grimlock, nightwalker

A monster with an alien, featureless face is pretty creepy. Get too many together, though, and it it just looks like they’re planning to rob a 7-11. This picture is like two faces spread over six guys.

the Little Lord Fauntleroy D&D campaign!

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?

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

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

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

    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

    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.