DYVERS: D&D 3.5e

Showing posts with label D&D 3.5e. Show all posts

Wednesday, January 9, 2019

Traps, Not Just for Ex-Girlfriends Anymore

When I first started running Dungeons & Dragons (D&D) I tended to treat traps as an exercise in dice rolling to overcome the challenge I had placed before my players. There was the roll to detect the trap and then another roll to disarm it. All this rolling tended to make for rather dull gameplay.

In an effort to remedy all this tedium I started looking for more complex traps, such as those found in Grimtooth’s Traps, and began to describe them to my players in detail. We still rolled to determine the chance of success but by actually describing the traps it made them exciting in the game and players spent time discussing how to conquer the challenge the trap presented.

I got so wrapped up in the process that I started neglecting the traditional, banal traps: arrow, pit, door, and poison traps were all too mundane. This neglect resulted in me falling back into the old habit of rolling to overcome. I was dissatisfied with this aspect of my Game Mastering but then Dungeons & Dragons Fourth Edition (D&D 4e) was announced.

Continue Reading at Dragons Never Forget

Tuesday, April 3, 2018

GM Toolbox: Things to Do from January 24, 2005

Shortly before I was going to run my first game back in the early months of 2005 I was sitting in the Den working on a list of things that I felt like I had to master before actually running my first session. Thought I'd share those with all of you real quick.

TO DO

Know all the rules
Internalize everything about the world of El Fantasma del Sur (a homemade world I was using at the time)
Plot out the path of the campaign for the first six months.
Create an award system to encourage the players to role-play correctly!

Not a long list but full of bullshit that cripples a game at the outset.

Know all the rules

This is the trap that a lot of players fall into when they first start talking about running a game as a Game Master for their friends. They convince themselves that the only way to do so is to know everything about the game - to achieve mastery over it - and as a result they never actually get around to playing the game. I was in that very stage of fucking off when my brother pushed me into running because he understood what I didn't at the time: that if I didn't actually run the game I would never get around to it on my own because the game isn't something that you can know perfectly. There are too many rules that are either conflicting with other rules, poorly worded, or vague enough that it's left up to the individual Game Master to come up with an understanding of how the rule is used with their group.

When it comes to running a role-playing game knowing the rules perfectly isn't the most important thing. Getting your players to become immersed in the game, to push their own creativity, and to challenge your conceptions of what the game could be is what's most important. The rules are a framework to build your home game around. They are there for you, and your group of players, to build a game that all of you can play in together and that will allow for an experience that kicks all of your tails!

Internalize everything about the world of El Fantasma del Sur

Fucking A. This is the one that would have hung me up forever if I had really stuck to my guns on it. A game world is supposed to this organic experience where you and your players discover it piece by piece until you've built up this wholly unique thing. Whether you're in a homebrew world like El Fantasma del Sur or in a published setting like the World of Greyhawk the story that you all craft together creates a unique experience. Those settings are your own. Let them live.

Plot out the path of the campaign for the first six months.

HA!

God, I was so fucking dumb.

Create an award system to encourage the players to role-play correctly!

HAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

I once created a split in a dungeon. Down one path I hadn't figured out what I wanted to do on it so I made it supper fucking scary with spider webs, screams, and a troll dragging a crying drow. On the other hall I had path out the dungeon and some smoking hot elven women looking down to them. They took troll road and would every time because, as my wife later told me; "When ever something seems like it's going to be okay we get nervous. If you give us two paths and one has certain death while the other has hot chicks and hard dicks we're going to take certain death every time. We can beat that. We have before. But hard dicks and hot chicks brings on mystical chlamydia, jealous ex-lovers who will kill us in our sleep, and six months of demons, devils, and dragons trying to use us as biological weapons. Fuck that."

Monday, February 5, 2018

Ratik, as Far as that Goes.

Yesterday my brother was looking at the World of Greyhawk map and he noticed the land of Ratik. He was curious about the little nation, and I'll be honest here, I was too. In my years of running in Greyhawk I never ran across the province as I tend to focus south of the Nyr Dyv and out west towards the Sea of Dust.

Ratik was new territory for me to explore; and the thing is, Ratik appears to be new territory for everyone else too. As best as I've been able to tell it was only mentioned in four places: (1) the World of Greyhawk Boxed Set, (2) in an article in Dragon 57, (3) the Living Greyhawk website, and (4) the Living Greyhawk Gazetteer. That's not a lot of information to go on.

Mounted Knight by Arthur Pyle

In the World of Greyhawk Boxed Set (pg. 32) the Archbarony is revealed to be an offshoot of Aerdi and to be a province ruled by the rather competent Ratik line. They have strong connections with the dwarves and gnomes of the area and are respected by the raiders and nomads surrounding them. When the hordes of humanoids began attacking Ratik not only weathered their advances but drove them out of their lands. Unfortunately this sent the humanoids south into the Bone Marches where they wrecked havoc.

Aside from the prosperous logging industry the only aspect of the Ratik description that I found worth noting was that in the north Ratik woodsmen were armed with bows and patrolled that boarder while in the south "hillrunners" were equipped with slings and watched the southern boarder.

The article from Dragon 57, Developments from Stonefist to South Province by Gary Gygax, (pg. 13 - 16) is largely a battlefield report. While there are some interesting tidbits here it largely points towards the steady development of the fractious area without anything all that substantive given away. The only thing that I found interesting was that the dwarves in the Rakers (the mountain chain to the west of Ratik) are largely holed up in their mountainous fortresses as they are being besieged by gnolls and like-minded humanoids.

After this all I found on the area is from the Living Greyhawk website and Gazetteer (pg. 88 - 91) which largely express the same information though with the Gazetteer providing more depth to the reader. Our leader is now Lady Evaleigh of Ratik and the barony is now completely divested from Aerdi. To be perfectly honest, while this provides the reader with the most information on the area from any of the sources I have it's largely a mess. This brings up one of the problems that I have with the Living Greyhawk Gazetteer. While it provides players with some of the most current information on the setting as of its publication it also tends to feel a bit like the authors are attempting to throw everything they can think of at the players. It makes things feel rushed and discombobulated at times (especially in less developed areas like Ratik).

So that's as much information as I have on the nation of Ratik. If anyone else has anything to add from any of the official sources (Living Greyhawk, modules, the magazines, and so forth) please let me know because I would love to continue fleshing out the little nation-state.

Wednesday, January 31, 2018

A Research List

Living Greyhawk Gazetteer

Al'Akbar
Allitur
Atroa
Beltar
Beory
Berei
Bleredd
Boccob
Bralm
Celestian
Cyndor
Dalt
Delleb
Ehlonna
Erythnul
Fharlanghn
Fortubo
Geshtai
Heironeous
Hextor
Incabulous
Istus
Iuz
Jascar
Joramy
Kord
Kurell
Lendor
Lirr
Llerg
Lydia
Mayaheine
Merikka
Mouqol
Myhriss
Nerull
Norebo
Obad-Hai
Olidammara
Osprem
Pelor
Phaulkon
Pholtus
Phyton
Procan
Pyremius
Ralishaz
Rao
Raxivort
Rudd
St. Cuthbert
Sehanine Moonbow
Sotillion
Syrul
Telchur
Tharizdun
Trithereon
Ulaa
Vatun
Vecna
Velnius
Wastri
Wee Jas
Wenta
Xan Yae
Xerbo
Ye'Cind
Zagyg
Zilchus
Zodal
Zuoken

Questions Yet to Be Answered

What is the point of having so many gods when many overlap each other? Is it a flavor thing or is it simply the glut that often accompanies a setting over time?
Should some of these gods be culled from a completed list?
Any god left on the list should have a reason for existing beyond X does Y but with a slight difference. It must be distinct and provide a reason for choosing them over the others. Is it possible for this to occur with an unmodified list?

Goals
Unspecified.

Saturday, January 21, 2017

Using Morale in Dungeons & Dragons Without Bringing Dice Into It.

Since I first began running Dungeons & Dragons back in '04 I've had this notion that I like Morale rules in my games. I say notion because I've never actually read what the real Morale rules were in AD&D 2e but my beloved Monster Compendium showed what the morale for monsters were and so I wanted to use the damned thing. Only thing was I didn't have access to an AD&D 2e Dungeon Master Guide so I never actually read a solid explanation for the rule so playing with it was a bit of a hit or miss affair. After a while it simply went missing from my games altogether.

Last night, though, I was reading through a copy of the Sword Lords of the Eastern Regions that was given to me when I read this passage:

". . . USING THE UNIT MORALE CHART: Use this chart when a unit's morale is called for, such as facing up to a Demon. If the roll is missed on one die, the unit must withdraw from the action for one turn at half movement, and then check again. The facing of the unit is up to the player whose unit is affected. If the morale save is made, the unit will obey battle orders . . ." (Becker, 27)

It struck a cord and got me to thinking again about using a Morale Rule in my Dungeons & Dragons game - only this time I'm going to actually look up what the rule meant in AD&D 2e instead of just making it all up on the fly. So let's look at the explanation that David "Zeb" Cook wrote in 1993 edition.

". . . Monsters and NPCs are an entirely different matter . . . The DM makes their decisions, trying to think like each creature or non-player character, in turn.

In combat, thinking like a creature mainly means deciding what actions it takes and how badly it wants to fight - the morale of the creature.

As a general rule, monsters and NPCs are no more eager to die than player characters. Most withdraw when a fight starts to go badly. Some panic and flee, even casting their weapons aside. If they think they can get mercy, brighter foes might fall to their knees and surrender. A few bloodthirsty or brainless types might fight to the death - but this doesn't happen too often. These are the things that make up morale, things the DM must decide, either through role-playing or dice rolling . . ." (Cook, 69)

I really wish that I had read this passage from the AD&D 2e Dungeon Master Guide years ago because the line ". . . most withdraw when a fight starts to go badly . . ." is something that I could have used earlier to dramatically improve my games. Even with my bastardized morale rule too often I found myself pushing the monsters to stay in the fight until every last one of them had fought to the death. While that can be interesting on occasion having monsters run from the players can create its own sort of drama as the players can gain a real reputation in the world that feels more authentic.

Jeff Easley title unkown

It's also interesting that with the morale rule it seems that there are degrees of failure for the monsters and non-player characters that your players encounter in the world. Are there degrees of success as well?

Zeb continues:

". . . The first (and best) way to handle morale is to determine it without rolling any dice or consulting any tables. This gives the biggest range of choices an prevents illogical things from happening . . . To decide what a creature does, think about its goals and reasons for fighting . . ." (Cook, 69)

As I've been reading more of AD&D 2e in recent weeks I've noticed that there is a decided trend among the writers that as a Dungeon Master you should think about your monsters' and non-player characters' motivations behind what they're doing. This aspect of the game wasn't missing from my beloved D&D 3.5e but it wasn't as pronounced and as a result for a long time I didn't consider such things. Instead I tended to look at the Challenge Rating chart and pick monsters to throw at my players based on what lined up with their level. That was a mistake and it made my game less interesting as a result.

With that in mind let's talk about unintelligent creatures for a minute. Zeb writes:

". . . Unintelligent and animal intelligence creatures attack, most often for food or to protect their lairs. Few ever attack for the sheer joy of killing . . . A mountain lion, for example, doesn't hunt humans (as a rule) and doesn't stalk and attack humans as it would a deer . . . Such creatures normally allow a party of adventurers to pass by unhindered, without even revealing themselves. Only when the creature is close to the lair does the chance of attack increase . . . When they do become involved in combat, animals and other creatures rarely fight to the death . . . Their interest is in food . . ." (Cook, 69)

I find it interesting that while I have often had trouble remembering to get monsters to flee I almost never experience the same issue with wild animals. The difference tends to be that I am around animals both wild and domestic regularly so I've internalized their habits; while monsters, to my mind, tend to be nothing more than imaginary creatures bent on destroying the civilized world of man and demi-human alike. Even though I know what the monsters are doing in my game world and why they're doing it, it's rare that I've treated my monstrous encounters with the sort of complicated motivations that they deserve. Reading Cook's discussion of morale I can't help but feel he would be slightly disappointed in my handling of the monsters.

". . . Intelligent Creatures have more complicated motivations than the need for food and shelter . . . Greed, hatred, fear, self-defense, and hunger are all motivations, but they are not all worth dying for . . . As a guideline for intelligent creature and NPC motivation, consider the actions of the player characters. How often do they fight to the death? Why would they? At what point do they usually retreat . . ." (Cook, 69)

And here comes a point where I begin to understand why I might have simplified monsters' motivations. My players almost never retreat. Not once in the 13 years that I've been running have I had a group that fell back (though I have been a part of two groups who fell back as a player). Typically my players fight to the death every time the enter into an encounter. This begs the question, though: do they determine their notion on how to handle a fight from the way that my monsters interact with them, or do I take my lead from them?

I think that I will have to put Zeb's ideas into action to tell.

More later.

Works Cited
Becker, Michael, Keith Elliott an Wilfredo Aguilar. Sword Lords of the Eastern Regions. Archive Miniatures & Game Systems. 1981. Print. pg 27

Cook, David "Zeb." Advanced Dungeons & Dragons 2nd Edition Dungeon Master Guide. Random House. USA, 1993. pg 69 - 72,

Friday, January 13, 2017

Black Mountain Burns, Part 1

"God damn it all," She'rah said as she flopped back against her chair, "we're fucked."

"Not yet," Poot told her as he leaned forward to get a better look at the board, squinting as though it would help turn the odds into their favor. "There's got to be a way out of here."

"You've got thirty seconds to make a decision, Poot," Tut said as he shoved another marsh-mellow into his mouth, "if you haven't made one by then you forfeit your turn."

"Yeah, I heard you the first time," Poot said as he leaned back.

"This isn't good," Icarus said from behind his Player's Handbook.

"I know," Poot said as he looked back at him.

"So what do we do, gang?" the World's Greatest Liar said as he threw his arms up.

"Fifteen seconds, Poot,"

"I got it!" Poot shouted as he snapped his fingers, "Step you're bugging. Everyone else give him time to get out."

Step rolled his shoulders as he shook his head, "I don't like this."

"You've still got the bag, right?" Poot asked him.

Step looked down at his sheet for a minute, lost in thought, before answering, "Yeah. I've got it."

"Poot's turn is forfeited," Tut said with a large, hungry grin. "Step, you're up."

"I'm falling back behind Poot's fighter and changing my shape."

"Are you now," Tut said with a hint of malicious amusement in his voice. "And why would you do that?"

"My turn?" Icarus asked.

Tut stared at Step as he answered, "Yeah, Icarus, it is. What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to run to the left with my barrel slung on my back screaming at the ogres to get their attention."

"Going for a feint, are you?" Tuts said as he brushed marsh-mellow powder from his chest. "Roll an opposed check."

"19," Icarus called.

"The ogres have all turned towards you and are preparing to charge."

"My turn," She'rah said.

"Sure, sure," Tut said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"I'm lighting my arrow in our torch, and readying my shot for when Step tells me it's time," she said.

"Okay," Tut said as the ogres charged into the World's Greatest Liar and Icarus. Their clubs slammed against the earth and shook the ground with each massive blow. When they were done all that was left of The World's Greatest Liar was a messy paste clinging to their clubs and Icarus lay on the ground, his legs a useless ruin.

When it was over Tut looked up from the board and said, "They all turn towards Poot with evil grins on their faces."

"Can I shout as free action," Icarus asked?

"Yeah," Tut said.

"Good," Icarus said as he looked back into his book and began to flip pages.

Poot leaned over to Step and asked, "How much longer do you need."

"I'm out on my turn," Step said as he pulled a cigarette out of its pack.

"Okay," Poot said. "Then I'm charging the closest one."

"It's your death," Tut said as he looked away from the table with sly smirk.

"Yeah," Poot said, "but not for long."

"What does that mean?" Tut said as he adjusted for Poot's damage.

"I'm up," Step called.

"Yeah," Tut said, "but what did you mean by that, Poot?"

"I'm a Chicken hawk and bugging out through the south bound window," Step said as he rolled. "And I just landed a natural 20."

"You make out the window," Tut said with a snarl.

"I'm shooting Icarus' barrel," She'rah declared. "Modified 22 to hit."

Tut looked behind his screen and began to work some numbers before he said, "You hit."

"Did the arrow pierce the barrel?" She'rah asked.

Tut worked behind his screen again for a few moments before looking at her over his glasses, "High or low?"

"High," She'rah said with a smile.

"Then yes," Tut said as the dice came to a rest in front of her.

"I'll use my free action here," Icarus interrupted.

Tut sounded surprised, "Oh?"

"Yeah," Icarus said, "I want to look at the ogres and say; I want to say, Hey you big dumb bastards. It's Booms-day."

"Booms-day," Tut said as he looked at him incredulously. "Why -"

"You remember a few sessions back when you told us that Alchemist's Fire is highly combustible and that a flame near it could cause it to explode," Icarus said as he laid down his Player's Handbook, "Well, that barrel I've been carrying around has 31 gallons of Alchemist's Fire in it that we bought back in Erfurt. We agreed that a flask of Alchemist's Fire is 8 oz back at the start of the campaign. So if I do a little bit of math," Icarus said as he began flicking his abacus back and forth, "that means that my barrel is holding 496 flasks of Alchemist's Fire or 496d6 points of damage concentrated on me and splashed onto every square around me for 1 point per flask."

"You just killed yourselves," Tut said with exasperation.

"No, we just chose how we won this fight," Poot said. "Besides She'rah and Step are out of the splash radius so that means the party won."

"I can't believe you guys would go this far just to keep from losing." Tut said as he began clearing the board.

"We're not done yet," Step said, "I've got a toe from every member of our party and I'm heading to Erfurt to raise them."

"Not bad," Tut said, "So are we on for next week."

"Yeah," Poot said as he started packing up, "By the way, are we starting that dungeon of yours?"

"Ganymede's Prison?" Tut said.

"Yeah, that one."

"Sure, if you guys want."

Step coughed and nudged Poot's leg. "Yeah, we want to do that, but we'd like to bring in three more players since it's supposed to be such a challenge."

"Who?"

"I'd like to bring in Biggboy."

"Sure," Tut said. "He's good people."

"And the Master Planner."

"Alright," Tut said as a look of concern grew on his face. "What are you leading up to here, Poot?"

"And I'd like to invite my brother, Charlie."

Tut leaned back in his chair, "So Biggboy, Master Planner, and Charlie. You guys are really taking this seriously, aren't you."

"We figured it's time you graduated," Step said as he lit his cigarette, "and had us at full strength."

"You're talking like you guys weren't trying before."

"We were taking it easy on you," She'rah said as she threw her backpack over her shoulder, "this was only your second campaign."

"But you guys have beat everything I've thrown at you."

"Oh we won," Icarus said, "we just didn't beat everything."

"What's the difference?"

"You'll see next week," The World's Greatest Liar said as he slapped Tut on his shoulder.

Poot stepped outside into the chill breeze of an early January morning and sent the text message he'd saved for three months.

Boys, get ready. We're burning down the mountain next Tuesday. Bring your dice and get ready 'cause Tut said you ain't got a hair on your asses and you ain't shit.

Monday, January 9, 2017

Cowardly Dungeon Master!

Last night a friend of mine sent me a link to an article about Hearthstone, The RPG Scrollbars: Roles We Take, Roles We Choose, that he thought I would like and that might actually get me to play the damned game with him. While the article didn't get me onto the Hearthstone bandwagon it did get me to thinking about the way that I tend to run my role-playing games. In particular this section stood out:

". . . It doesn’t help that most RPGs, rightly or wrongly, don’t have much in the way of balls when it comes to restricting the player character in any way. Compare, say, Baldur’s Gate 2 with Dragon Age 2 – partly because it’s a good comparison, partly because it wouldn’t be a good week if I didn’t annoy someone on the Codex. I’m thinking in terms of magic specifically. Baldur’s Gate 2 largely takes place in the city of Amn, and one of the cardinal rules there is ‘no magic without a license’. Dragon Age 2 takes place in a city controlled by Templars, whose job it is to keep mages under control, and not without some reason. Magic isn’t just whizzy-whizzy-bang-bang, but linked to demonic possession and all kinds of other health hazards.

Despite this, being a mage – an illegal, ‘apostate’ mage at that – doesn’t mean a damn thing. The guards will completely overlook fireballs in the street, you solving your problems with lightning bolts and all kinds of other stuff like that, even before you get to a point where you’re important enough to turn a blind eye. It’s a continuation of one of Dragon Age’s fundamental lore issues, that magic is meant to be rare and special and dangerous, but fuck that because players want to be/fight mages.

The trouble is that in not giving magic users at least some sense of threat or actual sense of being under the thumb, who cares? Baldur’s Gate 2 meanwhile made being a spellcaster a problem. Break out the elements and some very tough wizards would show up to impolitely request you not do that, with your three options being a) apologise and stop, b) buy a damn license, or c) prove yourself too powerful for them to stop. The latter especially is one of the most satisfying things you can do in that game. Even before that though, that tiny mechanical demand to keep the metaphorical magic wand holstered made a big difference to both mages and the setting . . ." (Cobbett).

When I first started playing Dungeons & Dragons I had in mind that in my game world that magic was a relatively rare thing; that to see a wizard casting a spell or cleric performing some miracle was something the average person didn't experience. But once it came time for the game to actually start I couldn't bring myself to tell my players no. I didn't even consider pushing back against their wanton use of magic in the world and as a result my idea became just as meaningless as the illegal, apostate mage in Dragon Age 2.

What I should have done instead of allowing them to find a powerful mage every time they went looking for one was to make it difficult. I should have made finding new magical spells something that required them to actually undergo deadly challenges to find and master. I should have made being a wizard something special that they would talk about for years afterwards instead of it just being yet another thing that was.

In the years since that first campaign I've attempted to make the narrative choices I make in my games more meaningful by sticking with them even when it constrains my players. Now that doesn't mean that I eliminate their opportunities to make choices, only that if I tell them magic is rare in the world that their use of magic will be treated as something unexpected and dangerous - like when a train derails or an explosion happens unexpectedly nearby.

Works Cited

Cobbett, Richard. "The RPG Scrollbars: Roles We Take, Roles We Choose." Rock, Paper, Shotgun. https://www.rockpapershotgun.com/2016/02/01/what-hearthstone-gets-right-about-roleplay/. Accessed January 8, 2017.

Sunday, January 8, 2017

Don't Make People Roll for a DC 10 or Less Checks, You Dicks.

A check with a Difficulty Class (DC) of 10 or less is not something that you should be making your players roll. The DC 10 represents an activity that is done regularly that poses no real challenge to your average person conducted under normal circumstances. A DC that is set at less than 10 represents something that an average person could do with little to no trouble, like changing the channel on the remote or picking up a glass of coke.

Now I know that to some of my regular readers that this probably shouldn't have needed addressing but you would be amazed at how many comments I've read today while I was researching wilderness survival where people kept championing the "Roll every DC, no matter how low," line of thought. And I get it, they've got no one who will play in their boring ass games so they want us to have the same experience.

Don't make people roll for things they should automatically succeed at doing. It slows down the game. It makes you a boring, unimaginative Dungeon Master. Forget that noise and keep the game moving.

Monday, August 8, 2016

The Great RPG Transition

At Gen Con this year Critical Role, a web-show that features a talented group of voice actors playing Dungeons & Dragons, filled a 1,500 capacity auditorium. The enthusiastic crowd prompted Morrus over at EN World to discuss the effect celebrity players have on the role-playing game industry as a whole.

Without a doubt we are seeing the rise of celebrity players. For several years now we've been seeing people slowly becoming known for how they play role-playing games through podcasts, web shows, and the like; but in doing so we've also missed a critical aspect of what such things have been doing for us as a whole. Mike Mearls, Lead Designer of Dungeons & Dragons Fifth Edition, put it a little bit of an interesting spin on the whole thing:

". . . It’s interesting seeing reactions at GenCon to Critical Role’s show in Indy. Illustrates a big divide in how designers grok TRPGs these days (source). It’ll be great to see a higher level of awareness of how RPGs have transformed and what that means for their future (source)

I believe that the rise of 3/3.5e and online discussion forums created a massive, fundamental shift in how RPGs were viewed and used (source). 3e, and then into 4e, D&D was very dense, rules heavy, complicated, and filled with character building options. That was the game (source). That spread to other RPGs, placing the baseline complexity of the typical RPG at the extreme upper end of what we saw in 80s/90s (source). At the same time, online discussion veered heavily towards character optimization and rules details. It was a culture of read and dissect (source).

Both the indie and old school design movements rose in counter to this, focusing much more heavily on actual play at the table (source). However, the prevailing, forum-based online culture made it very hard to communicate meaningfully about actual play (source). That changed when streaming and actual play vids became accessible to the average DM. The culture of actual play had a platform (source).

We can now meaningfully interact based on what we’re doing when we play, rather than talk about the stuff we do when we don’t play (source). This is HUGE because it shifts the design . . . [conversation] away from “How do we design for forum discussions?” to “How do we design for play?” (source)

As game designers, we can actually watch how RPGs play and what rules and concepts facilitate the effects we’re looking to create (source).

The tension between theoretical discussion vs actual play has always been a big part of RPG design (source). I believe at the table ruled for a very long time, swung hard to theory, and now back to table-driven design (source). Theory is useful, but it has to be used in service to actual, repeatable results in play. And I say this as someone who veered to theory (source).

So in a series of 14 tweets, that’s why I see Critical Role at GenCon something that can be very good for the hobby and designers (source).

Addendum: This ties into the huge success of 5e and the growth of RPGs – people can now learn by watching. The rulebook is not a barrier (source). We don’t learn sports like baseball or soccer by reading the rules – we watch and quickly learn how to play (source). The rulebook is a reference, like the NBA’s rulebook. Comes out only when absolutely needed. Barriers are now gone. Design accordingly . . . (source)"

By and large Mike knocks this one out of the park. D&D 3e and D&D 4e were both cumbersome in the sheer volume of rules, and rule variants, they presented - and that's spoken as someone who loves Third Edition - to the point where it became a challenge just to learn enough of the rules to begin play. Fifth Edition, and to a large extent most modern role-playing games, have moved in the opposite direction going towards a play centered focus where rules not only can be hand-waved when they get in the way of actual play but where it's actually encouraged by the designers to do so. After drowning in the sea of rules Third Edition dropped on us it's like a breath of fresh air.

More later.

Friday, November 27, 2015

Monster, Monster, Come to My Door; for I've Rigged It with Unstable Explosives and Am Loading My Shotgun as I Wait for You.

I was discussing villagers the other night with a friend of mine when she made the comment that the villagers in every book, movie, and game are just faceless masses waiting for their own destruction at the hands of the latest bad guy to pick up a rock and think that blood is a pretty color and should be used to paint a room with because no one ever considers the way that people actually act when they get scared. It's too difficult to imagine that we pick up guns and start shooting every mother fucker who happens to poke his head in our window.

She's not wrong.

Think about the games you run for a minute. When do the villagers pick up the torches and pitchforks? Do they do it once there's enough to get them scared? Or do they wait until things have really moved beyond the threshold of reasonable action? Do they ever do anything more than run away and die?

For a long time my villagers did nothing more than run and die (perhaps I was too busy concentrating on making sure that my bad guys lived long enough to be more than a footnote in the game's play). What turned me about on that noise was realizing that the people I lived around - men and women from a rural, mountain community - wouldn't act that way. They would have started shooting the monsters in their stupid, fucking faces for getting too close to their stills and meth labs. They would have picked up ball bats, axes, Bowie knives, pipe bombs, and every gun they could get their hands on and fucked up some monstrous creatures' days; and that might sound like a stretch to you but consider this: we have coyotes, bears, mountain lions, wild dogs, and all manner of rabid animals. When they get a bit too aggressive the people in my home town will kill every last one of them and drive down Main Street with the carcass tied across the hood of a pick-up truck while bitching that there was only one to kill. I know, animals are different from people. Except that they're not really treated all that differently in this area as I know old women who have incapacitated rapists that had intended to kill them by twisting their balls in different directions (when asked she said it was because she wanted to hear him scream); gangs of baseball bat wielding vigilantes searching for the sons-of-bitches that murdered some cats on an out of the way highway; and a group of twenty angry women armed with knives searching for the boy who raped one of their friends so they could cut his dick off and shove it up his ass (the cops caught him first for those wondering).

This community isn't an aberration in our reactions. I can pick up a copy of the Atlanta Journal-Constitution and read news stories about vengeance murders, gang attacks, posses formed to ferret out fugitives, and hunters killing wild animals. If it's something that happens in communities large and small then why isn't it happening in your home games?

My initial answer to that last question was that I wanted the players to be the stars of the show. After all, the game is about their adventures not a bunch of corn gobblers from a village that only the five of us know the name of and that I'll be the only one to remember. Only that's really a bullshit answer. See your villagers aren't suddenly becoming the main attraction of the story by reacting to the events in the game; instead they're becoming a catalyst that will help propel the players forward. While absolutely true that some of the villagers are going to be running for their lives you're also going to be having armed groups of regular people turning back towards the danger to try and stop it. Bringing these cats who are fighting rather than taking flight into the game has really made village situations something more exciting and far less mundane - especially since I just assume most everyone in my villages is a redneck with a rudimentary knowledge of explosives and born with an eagerness to see something blown to hell.

Tuesday, October 6, 2015

The D&D Guidebook, 3rd Edition Part 3: Styles of Play

There is an old argument against the Dungeons & Dragons that goes like this: "D&D is a game built around the idea that the players should largely engage in combative behavior without worrying about the 'story' of the session or campaign. The game emphasizes combat by rewarding players only for killing monsters and looting treasure, and not for accomplishing important moments for the character in the context of the game's larger story. Therefore it is not a game that anyone concerned with the idea that the world is more meaningful than the next walking experience point waiting to be felled should spend any time playing."

When 3e was published the argument became louder with many of its proponents posting on a wide array of forums decrying the way that this newly popular version of the game was being played. Too often, for them it seems, D&D players were gleefully killing Orcs, Dragons, and Trolls and too rarely talking about how the death of the Duke's daughter affected their character's emotional well-being. The 'murder-hobos' were decried for their lack of imagination and 3e was pointed to as the source of this murderous non-sense. "The game," they reasoned, "did not reward true creativity and only indulged in the baser instincts of its players - never challenging their moral understanding of the world."

They are, of course, full of shit.

D&D is a robust game that allows for a wide array of play styles from the aggressive play of the most notorious, bloodthirsty player to the deeply immersive explorations of what it means for a character to navigate the political intrigues of the free cities of Dyvers and Greyhawk. D&D is a game that reflects the play style of the group playing the game - Dungeon Master and players alike. If your group is looking to go from dungeon crawl to dungeon crawl spending as little time playing out their characters' time away from that exploration than that's something that D&D can provide you through monstrous encounters, deadly traps, and vile malefactors in every wild space of the campaign world. By the same token if the group wants to spend weeks dallying with Dukes and petty nobles of various houses, exploring the political intrigues associated with them and pitting each against the other for the players' benefit, than D&D, and especially 3e, can accomplish that with ease.

While Dungeons & Dragons is a game that can provide players with an experience that focuses on either end of the spectrum (murderous vagrants or political dilettantes), it works best somewhere between each spectrum. In the Dungeon Master's Guide it was put this way:

". . . Most campaigns are going to fall between these two extremes. There's plenty of action, but there's a storyline and interaction as characters too. Players will develop their characters, but they'll be eager to get into a fight as well. Provide a nice mixture of roleplaying encounters and combat encounters. Even in a dungeon you can present NPCs that aren't meant to be fought but rather helped out, negotiated with, or just talked to . . ." (Cook, 8)

Reading that paragraph again for the first time in a few years I find myself remembering how I was sitting at my desk plotting out Duke Niles's motivations when I picked up the DMG and read that paragraph. It was like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders and suddenly I stopped worrying about every possible plot hook and instead concerned myself with focusing on what my players wanted when they played. I started listening to what they were talking about - the next fight, what would happen to the little girl if they didn't figure out what was going on, whether they could stop everything from collapsing in on itself and save the world - and began attempting to provide them with an opportunity to find out.

In the eleven years I've been running D&D since I've had games that ran the gamut from deeply immersive experiences to murderous rampages where no ogre was left alive and the game has always provided me with a framework to experience the game we had been looking to play (which isn't to say that I've never played other games or that they didn't provide me enjoyable experiences as well). During the majority of that time I've played a lot of 3e and enjoyed the hell out of it; which is why I decided to start this series for the D&D Guidebook with 3e.

Works Cited

Cook, Monte. Dungeons & Dragons Dungeon Master's Guide, Core Rulebook II. Wizards of the Coast. USA, 2000. PRINT. pg. 8

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Wednesday, August 12, 2015

The D&D Guidebook, 3rd Edition Part 2: Let’s Talk About All That Funny Math

Shortly after you open the 3e Dungeon Master’s Guide (DMG) you’ll find a little section titled General Guidelines. It’s here that the mathematics that you’ve grown up with are going to begin abandoning you and it’s here that our exploration of 3e really beings.

Rounding Fractions

In 3e you’re going to encounter fractions and like when you were in elementary school these fractions are always to be rounded to the nearest whole number. Only unlike the math you learned alongside your letters and what it means when a pretty girl slides you a note asking if you want to be her boyfriend in Third Edition there is no artificial demarcation line drawn at 1/2. Everything rounds down to the lowest number – except for when it doesn’t. Certain types of damage, hit points, and on a few other occasions it isn’t possible for the math to give you a result lower than one.

Congratulations, we’ve just run into our first exception of the game and we’re only on page six of the 3e DMG. Get ready because there are going to be a lot more.

Multiplying

So let’s talk about how you multiply in 3e because this is going to come up eventually in any game you play. Now normally multiplication works as it always has when you have a single multiplier. For example, if you make a critical hit (the best result in combat) then your weapon damage is multiplied by its critical modifier as always (the numbers here for new players are going to look a bit crazy but don’t worry about them right now as this is just putting a little bug in your ear so that you will remember it later). Let’s say that your fighter is swinging a war-hammer which has a X3 critical modifier. When you roll that critical you multiply your normal damage as follows:

3(1d8+6) = 3(1d8) + 3(6) = 3d8 + 18

Pretty standard stuff, right?

Now where things get weird is when you have an additional multiplier to factor into the equation for combat. Let’s say that you have a special magical effect that happens when you fight a particular enemy that multiplies your damage by two every time you attack that creature with your war-hammer, and on this particular occasion you score a critical. How would you imagine that you would combine those two multipliers? For some of you it would be obvious that you should follow the order of operations. First you would resolve the doubling of the damage, since it happens every time you attack that enemy, and then applying the triple for the critical to arrive at a result similar to this:

3[2(1d8+6)] = 3[2(1d8) + 2(6)] = 3[2d8 + 12] = 3(2d8) + 3(12) = 6d8 + 36

Not so fast my friend. In 3e you combine the multipliers through an addition of a subtraction. Sound odd?

It is.

When you have two multipliers in combat you’re supposed to take one away from the lesser of the two multipliers and add the results. Let’s again consider our magical war-hammer and the critical strike. 3e would like us to combine the 3 multiplier and the 2 multiplier, minus one. This results in a multiplier of 4. To put it in a mathematical formula:

((3 + 2) – 1)(1d8 + 6) = (5 – 1)(1d8 + 6) = 4(1d8 + 6) = 4(1d8) + 4(6) = 4d8 + 24

In the revision of 3e, lovingly referred to as three-five, this would be explained as follows:

“. . . Another way to think of it is to convert the multiplication into additions. Tordek’s critical hit increases his damage by 2d8 + 12, and the dwarven thrower’s doubling of damage increases his damage by 1d8 + 6, so both of them together increase his damage by 3d8 + 18 for a grand total of 4d8 + 24 . . .” (Tweet, 304)

Over the years I’ve played Third Edition using both systems of math, that found in the real world and that found in 3e, and honestly, the game plays better when you use the 3e method. Oh, it’s a strange math all right, but the game is more challenging and exciting when you use it.

Before we close up this section of the Guidebook I should note that at the time 3e was first published the multiple multiplier rule was confusingly written and implied that this sort of math should be applied to all situations where multiple multipliers were in play. This would be cleared up in the revision of the game to show that only combat modifiers as described above should be handled in this way. All other similar situations should be handled like the rest of the world deals with all math: in a standard order of operations, with a calculator, and avoided whenever possible.

Works Cited:

Tweet, Johnathan. Dungeons & Dragons Player’s Handbook, Core Rulebook I v.3.5. USA: Wizards of the Coast, Inc., 2003. Print. 304

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