the Babysitter’s Club D&D pantheon

March 11th, 2011

Stacey and the CheerleadersLast week, I met a challenge to my Every Book’s a Sourcebook project: find D&D inspiration from the text of a Babysitters Club book. I read BSC #70, Stacey and the Cheerleaders, and used it to generate a great idea for a village heist adventure.

To prove how easy it is, here is a BONUS idea from Stacey and the Cheerleaders:

They stood there like statues, the goddesses of Gloom and Doom.

I think this quote describes some kids Stacey is babysitting; but what awesome statues it describes! Truly Anne M. Martin is a master fantasy world-builder.

The goddesses Gloom and Doom are the twin daughters of Lord Poison, the Dark Hand of Death. Their monumental white statues, mottled with red moss, stand at the entrance of Blood Pass. Travellers who enter Blood Pass offer fearful prayers to the goddesses. Nevertheless, sometimes a statue’s eyes flash, and a curse falls upon a traveller.

Whenever anyone enters Blood Pass, roll 2d20, one for each sister.

On a 1 on the first die, the traveller falls under the Curse of Gloom. From now on, every hour, the traveller must make a saving throw. If the traveller fails, he or she sinks into an hour-long Gloom, during which he or she will make no unassisted actions except to sit or lie down. If forced to walk, the Gloomy traveller is Slowed. A Gloomy traveller will resist being put on horseback, and will dismount at the earliest oppportunity. If attacked, a Gloomy traveller will do nothing but take the total defense action. The curse lifts after 24 hours have passed.

On a 1 on the second die, the traveller falls under the Curse of Doom. From now on, the traveller will lose one healing surge (or 1/4 of total HP) an hour. The only way to lift the curse is to arrive at the other end of Blood Pass, which takes ten hours of hard travel.

Worst-case scenario is that someone in the party receives a Gloom, slowing travel, and someone receives a Doom, providing serious consequences for delay. But, hey, that’s what you get for taking a cursed shortcut through the mountains.

mearls is hilarious

March 10th, 2011

Mike Mearls half-heartedly fulfilling his assignment to gush about the new D&D DM screen:

When Bart Carroll asked me to handle a Design & Development column on the new Deluxe Dungeon Master’s Screen, I wasn’t quite sure where to start. For my money, a DM’s screen needs the following key traits:

  • Opacity: A DM’s screen can’t screen anything if the players can simply look through it.
  • Screen-Like Shape: The screen should be shaped like a screen, in that it is rather flat, narrow, and capable of standing immobile. Other shapes simply won’t do. For example, a spherical screen has the potential to roll around the table and perhaps crush the smaller sort of D&D player.
  • Tall, But Not Too Tall: The ideal screen height blocks easy access to the DM’s notes (or lack thereof; the best screens make both the well-prepared and the “I’m completely making this up as I go” DMs indistinguishable). Too short, and the players keep finding all those secret doors and ambushes the DM set up. Too tall, and the DM is trapped behind, using finger puppets to portray the action.
  • Probably Some Art and Tables: I say probably because while a lack of these features doesn’t speak to the actual utility of a screen in terms of hiding stuff from the players, it makes the difference between an actual DM’s screen and a flattened cardboard box.
  • It’s hard to be funny while you’re selling something. I think there’s a reason why Mike Mearls is the current D&D designer with a Cult of Personality.

    20 and 1 are Magic

    March 8th, 2011

    Rolling a 20

    We’ve been conditioned to salivate when we roll a natural 20. It’s very satisfying to crit on an attack roll, but on many other rolls, all we end up with is a regular success and a mouth full of saliva.

    Whenever a natural 20 is just another success, I feel like it’s a failure of the game system. Example: initiative rolls. I’ve frequently heard PCs complain when they crit on an initiative roll: “Why couldn’t I save that 20 for when it mattered?”

    I was once DMing for three players who each rolled a natural 20 on the same initiative roll. It was an astonishing one-in-8000 occurrence that, sadly, has no by-the-book game effects at all. I ruled that the players were so well-prepared for the combat that their opponents immediately surrendered. The PCs got full XP for the win. We still reminisce about that encounter.

    D&D design principle: Natural 20 is magic. Every d20 roll – skills and initiative rolls as well as attack rolls – should have a benefit for rolling a natural 20: something more than just a success.

    Rolling a 1

    Rolling a 1 is the second most exciting roll in D&D. I don’t know why it is, but it always gets groans and laughs. In every group I’ve ever played with, players narrate how badly they failed. “My axe gets caught in the floor!” “My Dungeoneering check was so bad, I don’t even know I’m in a dungeon!”

    Players are hungry for fumble mechanics!

    Fumble rules are hard to write, though: there are a lot of pitfalls.

    • Fumbles should introduce complications, not punishments: no permanently-broken weapons or missing the next turn. Fumbles should add player energy, not suck it out.
    • Fumbles should not render all characters incompetent boobs. One of Rory’s 3e DMs ruled that on every natural 1 on an attack roll, the character made an attack on an ally. Rory was playing a high-level ranger with many attacks per round. That meant that once every few rounds – several times a minute – Rory accidentally shot an ally. Not very Aragorn.
    • Fumbles should be player-directed. Right now, players tend to exercise a little narrative creativity when they roll a 1. This is nice.

    The natural-1 rules from the 4e Darksun books are pretty good fumble rules. They actually give characters a mechanical benefit – rerolling an attack – in exchange for a cinematic failure – breaking a weapon.

    D&D design principle: Natural 1 is magic. Every d20 roll should have consequences for rolling a natural 1: consequences in addition to normal failure.

    Do you guys use any cool fumble or crit effects for initiative rolls and skill checks? (Attack rolls and death saves already have special effects on a natural 20.)

    Mazes and Monsters Manual chapters 1-5

    March 7th, 2011

    Rules for helping Tom Hanks escaping the Mazed condition in chapter 5.

    I’ve added chapters 4, “Quests,” and chapter 5, “Combat”, to the PDF of the Mazes and Monsters Manual.

    Look for 13 more pages of rules, 19 illustrations from the movie, and 1 screencap from Burton’s Hamlet.

    Quests

    The Quests chapter includes helpful rules like:

    When you start a new hero, you will be much less powerful than your friends. Remind your comrades that it is their duty to babysit you for a few levels, until you are slightly less useless than you were. On the plus side, your uselessness may result in all the heroes being killed in the maze, in which case everyone will get to start over at level 1!

    Combat

    Sample from the Combat chapter:

    Candles should be set up on and around the Game Board: their hypnotic flickering will help the players reach the psychologically vulnerable state in which Mazes and Monsters is the most fun!

    Changes to chapters 1-3

    After playtesting, I also made some rules changes to chapter 1-3: the surprisingly common situations where you roll a 11 (fumble) followed by a 12 (crit), or vice versa, is now called a “save,” and allows you to take a free turn if you do something other than what you were planning.

    I also made fumbles less common, since they are sort of a drag, and ended up using something very like the D&D 3.5 rules for confirming critical hits. I didn’t plan it; it just sort of happened that way.

    Download Mazes and Monsters chapters 1-5

    the Babysitter’s Club D&D module

    March 4th, 2011

    Stacey and the CheerleadersAfter my first Every Book’s a Sourcebook post, where I extrapolated a D&D adventure from the cover of a Babysitter’s Club book, my wife issued me a challenge: find D&D inspiration from the actual text of a Babysitters Club book.

    I chose BSC #70, Stacey and the Cheerleaders, figuring that, if all else failed, I could just stat out some cheerleaders as ninth level monsters.

    Luckily, it didn’t come to that. Stacey goes to a movie which could easily be turned into an adventure:

    I hadn’t seen Mall Warriors 1, and I was concerned I might have missed something. Well, I needn’t have worried. A three year old could have followed the plot. It was about a group of teens who booby-trap a mall to catch a pair of world famous mall thieves.

    Well, there are no malls in D&D, but we can easily move this to a village setting.

    The village council receives a warning: “We will be stealing your precious village idol TONIGHT. There is nothing you can do to stop us. Signed, Kellik and Agia, the King and Queen of Thieves.”

    Panicked, the village council hires the PCs to guard the idol. The DM warns the PCs that the two thieves are too strong to challenge in a straight fight – except, perhaps, alone and weakened.

    The PCs have a few hours to complete their preparations, which may include hiding the idol, setting traps, and stationing a handful of useless village guard minions.

    In this adventure, the DM should provide a lot of specific details the PCs can play off of: where are the equipment sheds, and what’s in them? What’s flammable? Where are the animals, especially the ones that make noise when strangers are about? Who’s aware of the PCs’ preparations – and how can the thieves get that information out of them?

    The DM will have to secretly play the thieves, keeping track of what they are doing, keeping in mind their extremely high rogue skills and their limited knowledge of the PCs’ actions.

    To keep this going for a full session, you probably have to allow the thieves to be slowed or caught by some of the PCs’ clever ideas; but the thieves have a lot of one-shot escape techniques they can deploy. In a reversal of normal D&D mechanics, the game is about NPC resource management.

    To give the PCs some satisfaction as they wear down the thieves, it would be best if the PCs could watch the thieves’ resources being depleted. Maybe it’s common knowledge that, say, Kellik’s smoke-bomb gun holds three charges, and that every time Agia teleports, it consumes a portion of her health.

    A Comprehensive Review of D&D Fortune Cards (from a guy who just bought 4 packs)

    March 2nd, 2011

    So I’m pretty much an expert in D&D Fortune Cards now, having:

    General Thoughts:

    • None of the powers super overwhelm me with how awesome they are: This is probably a good thing or it would have screwed up the balance of the entire game.
    • They are an obvious boon: There are no negatives to having fortune cards so you might as well get them from a pure character optimization point of view.

    Thoughts on Deck building:

    • Do It: If you have a bunch of boosters then there is virtually no reason not to build your own deck. It will be a lot more powerful once you get rid of “Lucky Fall”, “Only a Flesh Wound”, and similarly unimpressive cards.
    • Build a 10 Card Deck: Just like in Magic: The Gathering, it is almost never a good idea to build a deck consisting of more than the minimum number of allowed cards (in this case, 10). Adding more cards just means diluting your deck with less than ideal cards. I’m unclear on what happens when you run out of Fortune Cards (do you just stop drawing them?), but fights that last more than 10 rounds are fairly uncommon in D&D 4e.
    • Load Up on Easily Triggered Cards: Since you can only have one card in your hand at any given time AND can draw a card every round, you want to load up on cards that you can actively trigger, as a general rule, instead of those that only trigger when an enemy does something. Ideally, you’ll be playing a card every round and getting some kind of benefit out of it! With that said, the cards do seem to be balanced to push against this principle, with more powerful cards coming into play more rarely.
    • Load up on Attack Cards: What this really means is put 4 attack cards in your deck (assuming a ten card deck) since you need a minimum of 3 tactics and 3 defenses. They seem to generally be more powerful than the other cards.

    My Deck: Here’s what I put into my deck, following the general principles outlined above. I am playing a level 16 Half-Elf Valorous Bard: Read the rest of this entry »

    How much for a pitcher of ale?

    February 28th, 2011

    It occasionally becomes necessary to determine the price of daily goods. How much for a pitcher of ale? How much do you pay laborers to excavate a dungeon entrance? Whenever this comes up, it’s best not to think about it too hard, because D&D economy has never made sense. The best thing to do is to hand-wave the economy and move to the killing as quickly as possible.

    Ever since 1e, there has been a tension between “realistic”, Earth-modelled prices for goods and the need to give players vast hoards of gold. No one wants to kill a dragon and get nothing but a bag of silver, but in medieval Europe, a dragon-sized bed of gold (even split five ways) would make all the PCs rich to the point where money was never an object again.

    First edition gave us the huge piles of gold we wanted, and comparably high consumer prices. A longsword cost 15 GP. That’s one and a half pounds of gold! (A longsword weighs 6 pounds, so it’s 1/4 as valuable as gold.) The reasoning was that the campaign area was assumed to be suffering massive inflation due to new gold unearthed by dungeoneering adventurers. What’s more, many pages of the DMG was devoted to giving the DM advice on how to steal money from the PCs so they’d be hungry for adventure again.

    3rd edition tried to introduce a little realism, while keeping adventurer’s gear expensive. This led to some economic absurdities if you tried to use d&d to model peasant life – forgivable in a game that’s meant to model awesome-hero life. A laborer earned 1 sp per day, which is not actually unreasonable for medieval England if you assume 1gp = 1 pound. However, “poor meal (per day)” costs 1sp, leaving nothing left for other expenses. Just a loaf of bread and a hunk of cheese cost 12 cp. Every day, a plowman would spend more than he made, just on his plowman’s lunch.

    The fact is, prices for adventurers don’t work for peasants. But this need not break our game. We don’t even have to hand-wave it.
    Read the rest of this entry »

    Leave it to Psmith: the D&D module

    February 25th, 2011

    Leave it to PsmithThe mannered country-house farces of PG Wodehouse don’t lend themselves very well to adaptation as D&D adventures because they rely on intricate, delicate plot, which is hard for a DM to sustain, and a very specific dialogue style, which is hard to pull off on the fly (and if you think you’re managing it, you just might be making yourself annoying).

    The beautiful spun-sugar plot constructions might not be usable, but the general premise of a Wodehouse novel is very thematic to D&D: “Idiot or idiots get into hilarious mishaps through a series of misunderstandings, overcomplicated plans, and bad judgement calls.” This is a perfect description of PC activity whenever combat is not involved.

    Leave it to Psmith relies on one plot device that is usable in a D&D game: mistaken identity. Psmith and two other characters all claim to be a poet named McTodd; one of the other two claimants is actually McTodd, and one is an American gangster.

    Try offering this as a puzzle for the PCs. They’re instructed to, say, give a powerful item to a certain NPC named McTodd. They find two McTodds, each claiming that the other is the imposter.

    The two NPCs both have fairly good knowledge of their role, and differentiate themselves mainly by their attitudes. McTodd 1 is sputtering and angry: “How dare this imposter speak to me in my own house!” McTodd 2 seems amused by the situation and speaks flippantly: “You say I am not McTodd? Well, perhaps I am not. I’ve been wrong before.”

    Various knowledge checks provide conflicting results: McTodd 1 explains a sudden disinclination for cake as the effects of a recent illness; McTodd 2 seems to have forgotten some obscure detail of his own history.

    The gimmick here is that the DM does not know which McTodd is the real one either. The DM is keeping track of two separate possibilities, but until the PCs concoct a plan that will absolutely solve the mystery, it is a case of Schrodinger’s McTodd. If another NPC corroborates one McTodd’s identity, that NPC exists in an indeterminate state as a honest man/villanous accomplice.

    When the DM must finally pick a real McTodd, the choice is made by a die roll or coin flip.

    Many players are very good at picking up on unconscious hints from the DM. Mysteries can be solved, not by the clues, but by the DM’s tone. If the DM doesn’t know the solution to the mystery, though, any such clues will be misleading.

    Mazes and Monsters Manual, chapters 1 to 3

    February 22nd, 2011

    Download my lavishly-illustrated playtest PDF of chapters 1 to 3 of the Mazes and Monsters manual, containing

    CHAPTER 1: HOW TO PLAY THE GAME
    CHAPTER 2: HOW TO MAKE A HERO
    CHAPTER 3: SHOPPING IN TOWN

    This should be everything you need to get your characters ready for play.

    It’s coming out pretty well, I think. Give it a look and see what you think. Let me know any errors, confusing parts, or things that look otherwise weird.

    Download

    (Note: Chapters 1-5 are now available!)

    two adventure ideas, one upside down

    February 18th, 2011

    I got one of those double books that is one novel on one side, and then you flip it upside down and there is another novel on the back!

    Endless Shadow

    No one would put the blame on her. But were you to blame Jacob Chen himself, a man who could punch a program of a million words into a computer?

    -Endless Shadow by John Brunner

    This is a crappy sci-fi book from the early 60s about how computer programmers run the transit system that keeps the galaxy together. Computer programmers are so smart that they are given any difficult job, including non-computer-related action-hero James Bond stuff. As a computer programmer myself, I find this highly unlikely.

    Also, when Earth interacts with a new culture, they send a computer programmer, because their intelligence makes them uniquely insightful about the emotional states of others. As a computer programmer myself, I utter a single ringing bark of mirthless laughter.

    This book was difficult to read, because I couldn’t figure out what was motivating everyone, because everyone’s motivations were derived from pop psychoanalysis. Everyone had a complex or whatever. There was also some sci fi stuff. There was a mystery, and it was solved when it turns out that someone had surgically given themselves devil horns! And that revealed what complex they had? or something?

    There’s a tiny germ of a D&D idea here. Someone alters themselves to get tiefling attributes. Why? They must be trying to fool someone: either themselves, or the tieflings, or the non-tieflings (they’re trying to frame the tieflings), or the devils. If they’re trying to fool the devils, then either they are very dumb or the devils are very dumb.

    Let’s expand the latter into a D&D mystery adventure. A supernatural disaster strikes the city! Legend has it that this type of disaster can only be caused by a tiefling calling on an ancient devil promise. The PCs must determine which of the handful of tieflings are the guilty one.

    Except at the last minute, a human’s hat falls off and his horns are seen! It turns out he has magically given himself tiefling attributes in order to hoodwink the devils into killing his enemies. I guess we’d better make the guilty human young, so we can have met his parents and established his human pedigree.

    OK, it’s not the best idea in the world, but this is not the most inspiring book.