This post is an attempt to round up all the house-rules and background details I use in my Doom & Tea Parties Labyrinth Lord hack game. It's been running for just over 2 years now and I'm quite happy with it.
This is primarily intended as a resource for my players. I also have little random tables and the like I use on my side of the GM screen. Many of these have been posted on this blog, and I'll probably pull them together in a post like this sometime soon. Maybe.
It'll also serve as a one-stop spot for new players entering the campaign. We play online, via MapTool, so it's common to have players I've never met face-to-face before.
Introduction to the Campaign
Character Creation - I ended up using the equipment lists from 2e's Al-Qadim. Say what you will about 2e, but it had the best equipment lists. Plus a few additional goodies.
Languages
CLASSES
Gnomes
Half-ogres
Nixies
Pixies
Rogues
Witches
For clerics: The Gods
For magic-users (usually called sorcerers IC): Residual and Secondary Powers From Prepared Spells
COMBAT
Weapons, Initiative, and Damage
Shields Shall be Splintered!
The Table of Death & Dismemberment - I do not use the Constitution bonus when rolling on this table.
Example Combat
THINGS TO BUY (not found in 2e's Al-Qadim Supplement)
Drugs & Herbs
Potions
BACKGROUND DETAILS
Timeline
Calendar
The Multiverse
The Eldest & Titans
Metals
Noble Titles Among the Efreet & Genie Corsairs
Showing posts with label Doom and Tea Parties. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Doom and Tea Parties. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 01, 2012
PDF
Monday, April 25, 2011
The Dragons of Doom & Tea Parties
Rules Magis at Gamers Closet wants to know:
So dragons hold a central place in my Doom & Tea Parties campaign. Their nature is something that has been building in my campaigns over time, drawing from many sources, some literary, some mythological, with a pinch of pop-culture. As the eldest children of Tiamat, they are chthonian creatures, almost forces of nature. They are sadistically playful in the manner of cats, primal in their instincts and assumptions, and extremely self-centered. They are scions of primal chaos, and, as such, unpredictable, unreliable, and untamable in the long run.
Each is unique; there is not a race of blue dragons, but a blue dragon. They come in a wide variety of colors and combinations, and no, they are not coded for player convenience. To slay a dragon, which is sometimes necessary, is to destroy something that the world will never see again.
There is a spiritual aspect to this as well. There is a conservation of souls at work in my current campaign. Even without spells, a soul will eventually reincarnate (which, incidentally, has nothing to do with my own personal beliefs, but works really well with the spiritual geography of my campaign). Myth says that the first life of every soul is as a dragon. While they are certainly not on any endangered species list, there are noticeably fewer now than there were in the past. The death of the last dragon will mark the beginning of the end of Creation.
So I have a question. Not sure if it is that fact that I have been playing WOW, the book I am reading or the current campaign I am playing in. But dragons seem to be vastly different from one setting to another. Some are the King Arthur type of a foul beast to be slain by a knight on a quest; some are the invincible all knowing creatures of legend like in the Raymond Fiest books and others are the mounts and servants of Dragon Lords.Dragons have been important to me for a very long time. I can certainly see the benefit in treating them as just another monster on the list. However, in what I assume is a similar way in which some folks believe that fighting the gods is anathema, I really can't treat dragons as just more fodder for higher-level combats.
So dragons hold a central place in my Doom & Tea Parties campaign. Their nature is something that has been building in my campaigns over time, drawing from many sources, some literary, some mythological, with a pinch of pop-culture. As the eldest children of Tiamat, they are chthonian creatures, almost forces of nature. They are sadistically playful in the manner of cats, primal in their instincts and assumptions, and extremely self-centered. They are scions of primal chaos, and, as such, unpredictable, unreliable, and untamable in the long run.
Each is unique; there is not a race of blue dragons, but a blue dragon. They come in a wide variety of colors and combinations, and no, they are not coded for player convenience. To slay a dragon, which is sometimes necessary, is to destroy something that the world will never see again.
There is a spiritual aspect to this as well. There is a conservation of souls at work in my current campaign. Even without spells, a soul will eventually reincarnate (which, incidentally, has nothing to do with my own personal beliefs, but works really well with the spiritual geography of my campaign). Myth says that the first life of every soul is as a dragon. While they are certainly not on any endangered species list, there are noticeably fewer now than there were in the past. The death of the last dragon will mark the beginning of the end of Creation.
Wednesday, April 06, 2011
Genie Corsairs
Genies make for unpleasant neighbors. Their command of their respective elements means they can suddenly, and radically, rearrange the landscape and climate. They tend to congregate into large households comprising not only more of their own kind, but also slaves and pets of numerous other races that most sane folk consider dangerous in the extreme. And many enjoy adding to their collections by raiding far and wide across the multiverse.
All four races of geniekind use a similar design for their corsairs. Generally, there are two habitable ellipsoids connected end-to-end. These are encased in a cage-like frame of orichalcum (around an adamantium core) in a long football shape. The spaces inside the frame not filled by the ellipsoids (on either pointed end and a ring around the middle, surrounding where the ellipsoids meet) cage the elementals that pull (or push or lift, as the case may be) the corsair. Typically, air elementals of massive size are preferred, as they allow the corsair to fly, and nearly anyone the genies would be thinking to raid would live within a bubble of Air. Air-drawn corsairs can also travel through water. Water-drawn corsairs can generally only travel through water, though, like fire-drawn corsairs (which can travel through fire, naturally) they can crawl across the ground, though at speeds barley faster than a human’s walk. Earth elementals can travel across the top of the ground much more quickly, but can also pass through earth and solid stone at a surprising clip (lead slows them considerably, and they cannot breach adamantium).
The habitable portions of corsairs vary in design, but typically the forward portion contains the command deck, work quarters, chirurgeon’s studio and hospital facilities, sparring and drilling rooms, alchemical and magical labs, smithies or other factory facilities, and cargo hold. The aft portion is typically decorated more to the usual sumptuous tastes of genie-kind and houses the living quarters for the genies and their favored slaves, feasting halls, kitchens, vaults, armories, as well as quarters for living animals that will be harvested for food along the way.
What these sections are made from depends on the ship’s origin. Efreet corsairs tend to be of brass or bronze, sheathed in adamantium. Corsairs from Earth tend to replace the brass and bronze with wood. Ships from Water are constructed with bulbous, glistening pastel shells similar to the glass-like towers merfolk grow from specially cultivated corral. Djinn often build theirs from crystals, sometimes replacing even the orichalcum and adamantium framework with an enchanted crystal matrix.
A corsair on a raiding expedition will often house a dozen to a score or more genies, plus twice to five times the number of attendant slaves, at least half of whom will be combatants, whether simple warriors or even enslaved sorcerers and other spell-slingers. Even a corsair heading out to a raid is filled with fabulous treasures. Treat it as holding about a quarter of the expected wealth for the typical lair of genies of the appropriate type. And corsairs returning from a successful raid will hold even greater treasure, with types and quantities depending on where it’s returning from.
The corsair pictured here, the Firecat, is a smaller one, being only 320 feet in length. It’s owned by Bey Asad ibn Rumha. As the Bey used to travel with most of his harem, more space than normal was given over for his own personal quarters as well as for his mamluks and their gear, and the pair of firecats kept by his concubines. The large, two-level cargo hold and cisterns allow the Firecat to stay out for extended periods, either on pleasure-cruises or raids. The short, domed dorsal observation tower would slow the corsair down when traveling through Earth or Water, but Bey Asad prefers raids on the Prime Material and Faerie realms.
Like most corsairs, the Firecat includes an ethereal spindle which allows the ship to shift between the physical and ethereal planes. As the ethereal touches both all the Elemental Planes as well as the Prime Materials, it makes an excellent conduit by which corsairs can travel from one realm to another. However, as ethereal travel is dangerous, most raiders keep their time in the ethereal to a minimum. Special savants are used to navigate between worlds, and to find the places most auspicious to translate between the planes. While the ship is traveling through the ethereal plane, these savants guide it from meditation cells buried deep inside the ship, where they can pilot the craft without distraction. When outside the ethereal plane, the enslaved elementals that move the ship can be psychically commanded by anyone sitting on the pilot’s throne.
All four races of geniekind use a similar design for their corsairs. Generally, there are two habitable ellipsoids connected end-to-end. These are encased in a cage-like frame of orichalcum (around an adamantium core) in a long football shape. The spaces inside the frame not filled by the ellipsoids (on either pointed end and a ring around the middle, surrounding where the ellipsoids meet) cage the elementals that pull (or push or lift, as the case may be) the corsair. Typically, air elementals of massive size are preferred, as they allow the corsair to fly, and nearly anyone the genies would be thinking to raid would live within a bubble of Air. Air-drawn corsairs can also travel through water. Water-drawn corsairs can generally only travel through water, though, like fire-drawn corsairs (which can travel through fire, naturally) they can crawl across the ground, though at speeds barley faster than a human’s walk. Earth elementals can travel across the top of the ground much more quickly, but can also pass through earth and solid stone at a surprising clip (lead slows them considerably, and they cannot breach adamantium).
The habitable portions of corsairs vary in design, but typically the forward portion contains the command deck, work quarters, chirurgeon’s studio and hospital facilities, sparring and drilling rooms, alchemical and magical labs, smithies or other factory facilities, and cargo hold. The aft portion is typically decorated more to the usual sumptuous tastes of genie-kind and houses the living quarters for the genies and their favored slaves, feasting halls, kitchens, vaults, armories, as well as quarters for living animals that will be harvested for food along the way.
What these sections are made from depends on the ship’s origin. Efreet corsairs tend to be of brass or bronze, sheathed in adamantium. Corsairs from Earth tend to replace the brass and bronze with wood. Ships from Water are constructed with bulbous, glistening pastel shells similar to the glass-like towers merfolk grow from specially cultivated corral. Djinn often build theirs from crystals, sometimes replacing even the orichalcum and adamantium framework with an enchanted crystal matrix.
A corsair on a raiding expedition will often house a dozen to a score or more genies, plus twice to five times the number of attendant slaves, at least half of whom will be combatants, whether simple warriors or even enslaved sorcerers and other spell-slingers. Even a corsair heading out to a raid is filled with fabulous treasures. Treat it as holding about a quarter of the expected wealth for the typical lair of genies of the appropriate type. And corsairs returning from a successful raid will hold even greater treasure, with types and quantities depending on where it’s returning from.
The corsair pictured here, the Firecat, is a smaller one, being only 320 feet in length. It’s owned by Bey Asad ibn Rumha. As the Bey used to travel with most of his harem, more space than normal was given over for his own personal quarters as well as for his mamluks and their gear, and the pair of firecats kept by his concubines. The large, two-level cargo hold and cisterns allow the Firecat to stay out for extended periods, either on pleasure-cruises or raids. The short, domed dorsal observation tower would slow the corsair down when traveling through Earth or Water, but Bey Asad prefers raids on the Prime Material and Faerie realms.
Like most corsairs, the Firecat includes an ethereal spindle which allows the ship to shift between the physical and ethereal planes. As the ethereal touches both all the Elemental Planes as well as the Prime Materials, it makes an excellent conduit by which corsairs can travel from one realm to another. However, as ethereal travel is dangerous, most raiders keep their time in the ethereal to a minimum. Special savants are used to navigate between worlds, and to find the places most auspicious to translate between the planes. While the ship is traveling through the ethereal plane, these savants guide it from meditation cells buried deep inside the ship, where they can pilot the craft without distraction. When outside the ethereal plane, the enslaved elementals that move the ship can be psychically commanded by anyone sitting on the pilot’s throne.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Minimalist Setting: Timeline Example
So, riffing off my last post, and comments by Stuart over at his Strange Magic blog, here’s an example of something that’s not a rule, but is probably useful to include. The following is a timeline for my Doom & Tea Parties game:
3-4) Room with Well: well is (roll d6):
5-6) Guardroom: with working portcullis (50% chance it’s down, combined strength score of 40 or greater needed to lift it).
7) Council Chamber: with magically shaped stone furniture. Every round spent searching this room has a 1-in-12 chance of turning up an adamantium key that will open one of the doors, chests, or locked gates of this place.
8) Torture Chamber and Prison Cells: for holding prisoners, though all that’s held in them now will be bones. A trap door in the floor will open to a sheer, 18’ shaft that drops into an oubliette. There’s a 1-in-4 chance that it holds a random undead with the usual treasure associated with it.
9-10) Officers Office: the furniture has long since rotted to a pile of mold and dust, unless more recent residents have replaced it. If the players search for secret doors and find one, they’ll discover a loose stone in the wall or floor that hides an adamantium key that will open one of the adamantium doors in this place. Only one such key will exist in any office, and if the first round of attempts fails, then there is no key hidden in this particular office.
11) Habitat Warren: collection of rooms (cluster of 2 to 6) primarily used to house refugees, but might also be military barracks.
12) Dining Hall: with one adjoining room being a kitchen. The chimney has a 50% chance of not having collapsed. Gnomes, elves, and similarly small or slight creatures can use it to climb to the surface.
13-14) Granary: has a dozen wells sunk into the earth in which grain was stored. Each well currently contains (roll d6):
15 )Armoury: the door to this room will be adamantium, will require 300 points of damage before it can be battered in, with a superior lock. If it remains unopened (1-in-8 if this part of the complex has been inhabited or looted) it will contain carefully preserved weapons of bronze (2d12 swords, spears, and daggers, plus 2d12 long bows and 2d100 arrows), 1d6 suits of elf-sized chain mail, 1d6 elf-sized bronze helmets, plus uniforms. There’s a 1-in-20 chance of their being 1d4 orichalcum swords (treat as silvered for purposes of harming lycanthropes and others that require special, non-magical weapons to harm them) and 1d6 rowan shields (can be “shattered” to prevent one spell that specifically targets the wielder). There’s a 1-in-100 chance of there being an elvish cloak among the uniforms.
16-17) Killing Ground: this room has arrow-loops on both sides and murder holes above. If humanoids have come to inhabit this place, they’ve almost certainly set up guards here to attack intruders. If the alarm has been raised, they’ll probably have boiling oil set to dump through the murder holes.
18) Pleasure Dome: hemispherical room piled with pillows of silk and fur that have been enchanted to resist the effects of time. If this part of the dungeon hasn’t been plundered before, it’ll hold 2d4 x 100 gp worth of furnishings, crystal, drugs, and jewelry lost under the pillows. There’s also a 1-in-4 chance that the room also contains flowering plants whose perfume induces altered states of consciousness. For every turn the PCs remain in this room (searching, etc.) they should all roll a save vs. poison. Each who fail will be stoned for 2d6 turns (-2 to all dice rolls, inhibitions removed, and may become completely obsessed with some simple feature of the dungeon) after which they will sleep for 1d6 hours. When they awake, they will be ravenously hungry and will need to eat an entire day’s worth of rations or continue to suffer a -1 to all dice rolls.
19) Library: walls are lined with niches and shelves for scrolls and books. If this room hasn’t been looted, there’s a 25% chance the books have been ensorcelled to prevent decay. In this case, every turn they spend searching the shelves has a 1-in-20 chance of turning up a spell book containing 2-6 random 1st level spells, 1-3 random 2nd level spells, and 0 to 2 (1d4 -2) random 3rd level spells. Books will be (roll a d6) written in (1-3) Low Fey, (4-5) High Fey, or more rarely (6) some other, random language. Typical subjects (roll another d6) are (1-2) magic or alchemical theory, (3) history, (4) erotic poetry (1-in-4 will include pornographic images), (5) using Earth elementals in construction, and (6) military theory.
20) Vault: will also have an adamantium door that will resist up to 350 points of damage before falling. Inside will be sacks containing 300-600 (1d4 + 2) silver pieces and 100-400 gold pieces. If the current residents have the keys to this vault, also add in whatever additional wealth in coins and jewelry is appropriate for them.
21) Magical Lab: the floor will be inset with an orichalcum symbol used for summoning or containing magical effects. Magic spells will not cross into or out of the symbol. There’s a 1-in-20 chance that the symbol holds (roll a d6) a (1-2) red slaad, (3) blue slaad, (4) invisible green slaad, (5) earth elemental, (6) invisible air elemental. Any object physically crossing the symbol will break it and free whatever it imprisons.
22 )Alchemical Lab: The walls are lined with counters topped with marble or lead. If this part of the complex has not been looted, it will still contain 1d3 x 1,000 gp worth of alchemical equipment (though most will be delicate glassware that won’t survive usual dungeon delving; every combat will destroy 10d10 gp worth of any such equipment being carried by the PCs and their henchmen). There’s also a 1-in-6 chance that the room contains 1d4 random potions, plus 0-4 (1d6 -2) fertility potions potent enough to overcome whatever birth control a character might be using for up to a week’s time, while also healing 2d12 points of damage when drunk and curing any non-magical disease.
Pre-history
79,881: First Lizardfolk Empire
81,756: Coming of the elves.
91,772: First War Against the Monsters: gods vs. offspring of the Tiamat, allied with Lizardfolk. More a massive hunt than an actual war.
92,119: Tiamat sues for peace to save her children, Land of the Monsters carved off from the rest of the world to serve as preserve for her children.
Lizardfolk refuse to turn away from titans and worship the gods exclusively. Gods turn their backs on Lizardfolk and their empire goes into decline.
98,674-116,540: War of the Elders as titans and gods go to war. Lizardfolk try to stay out of the fray, but their empire is shattered anyway.
Tiamat secretly breeds the orcs into being, other monsters.
116,540-116,620: Second War Against the Monsters as orcs, other monsters strike out, invade. Monsters finally rebuffed as their hordes scatter to pillage and plunder. What started as a war turns into a hunt as gods, some titans organize resistance.
Tiamat, furious at the slaughter of her children, secretly breeds the nagpa.
119,982: Rise of the Elven Empire. While the gods actively oppose the elves, they fail to build an alliance against them. With strong support of key titans and wizardry, elves build a strong empire.
126,196: Third War Against the Monsters: led by nagpa, the monsters strike out to create their own empire. The gods at first sit it out, and things go poorly for the elves. Nagpa carve out their own empire, but it falls when the elves join in alliance with the lizardfolk.
126,281: After nearly a century of warfare, the Nagpa Empire collapses. Enraged, the Tiamat strikes directly at the elven cities, shattering many of them and destroying their empire. The gods and titans, terrified that the powers the Tiamat is unleashing might either slay or free Earth, join against her and imprison her in the Red Moon.
126,356: Coming of the gnomes, who claim they seek to heal the land.
126,372: Rise of the Second Lizardfolk Empire.
126,491: Coming of the Necromancer – creates an alliance of human tribes in the far north, raid and plunder the northern portions of the Lizardfolk Empire.
126,505: Coming of the Ice, as the world begins to cool. Most blame the Necromancer for this.
126,766: Necromancer slain by elven and lizardfolk heroes. Alliance of human tribes collapses.
Ice begins to retreat.
The gods begin to court the humans, turn their backs on the recalcitrant lizardfolk.
126,902 to 126,915: Time of the Great Plague.
126,800 to 126,984: Second Lizardfolk Empire goes into decline. Led by the gods, the humans begin to build a loose network of allied city-states. Skirmishes between the fey and humans frequent. <= Present day.
So yeah, something like forty-seven thousand years in two pages. The entirety of American history could fit inside many of these lines. Not much here. In fact, the last significant event, the Time of the Great Plague, was so long ago (69 years) that no human character is likely to remember it. And this is the first time I think any of my players have actually seen this, so for them, this is a peek behind the curtain.
So what good is this timeline? It basically serves one purpose, and one purpose only: it tells me who made the dungeons, and the treasures and magic items found therein. That being the case, there’s absolutely no need for me to go into great detail on this, and little need for the players to see this (though they’ve been told the basic outline during in-game conversations).
If I decide I need a magic orc-slaying sword, it most likely came from one of the Wars Against the Monsters. If I really need the name of a great hero who did amazing things with said sword, that’s easy enough to drop in without too much excitement. Otherwise, it’s probably not worth my time to delve into that much detail. I’m not going to remember the guy’s name, or why he fought or how he died. And if I’m not going to remember, why should I expect my players to remember?
And most of why I want this at all is to help me decide what the dungeons look like, or why they have this or that sort of treasure in them. They are cheats, starting points, and outlines I can flesh out to make a place sensible in my own head, and hopefully to the players as well. With this, I can build Zakian random tables of treasure, or architectural features, or things like that.
Random Fortress of the Elven Empire Constructed During the Third War Against the Monsters (roll 2d10) to be Used with Geomorphs
2) Alchemical Lab: The walls are lined with counters topped with marble or lead. If this part of the complex has not been looted, it will still contain 1d3 x 1,000 gp worth of alchemical equipment (though most will be delicate glassware that won’t survive usual dungeon delving; every combat will destroy 10d10 gp worth of any such equipment being carried by the PCs and their henchmen). There’s also a 1-in-6 chance that the room contains 1d4 random potions, plus 0-4 (1d6 -2) fertility potions potent enough to overcome whatever birth control a character might be using for up to a week’s time, while also healing 2d12 points of damage when drunk and curing any non-magical disease.
3-4) Room with Well: well is (roll d6):
1: dry
2-3: still serviceable, though minerals heavily flavor the water
4: the lair of a monster
5: poisoned (save vs. poison or suffer stomach cramps and a -1 to all dice rolls for 1 day)
6: magical, and any who drink from it (roll d4)
1-3: can see in the dark as an elf for 24 hours
4: turn into a frog.
5-6) Guardroom: with working portcullis (50% chance it’s down, combined strength score of 40 or greater needed to lift it).
7) Council Chamber: with magically shaped stone furniture. Every round spent searching this room has a 1-in-12 chance of turning up an adamantium key that will open one of the doors, chests, or locked gates of this place.
8) Torture Chamber and Prison Cells: for holding prisoners, though all that’s held in them now will be bones. A trap door in the floor will open to a sheer, 18’ shaft that drops into an oubliette. There’s a 1-in-4 chance that it holds a random undead with the usual treasure associated with it.
9-10) Officers Office: the furniture has long since rotted to a pile of mold and dust, unless more recent residents have replaced it. If the players search for secret doors and find one, they’ll discover a loose stone in the wall or floor that hides an adamantium key that will open one of the adamantium doors in this place. Only one such key will exist in any office, and if the first round of attempts fails, then there is no key hidden in this particular office.
11) Habitat Warren: collection of rooms (cluster of 2 to 6) primarily used to house refugees, but might also be military barracks.
12) Dining Hall: with one adjoining room being a kitchen. The chimney has a 50% chance of not having collapsed. Gnomes, elves, and similarly small or slight creatures can use it to climb to the surface.
13-14) Granary: has a dozen wells sunk into the earth in which grain was stored. Each well currently contains (roll d6):
1-3: nothing. The grain was eaten in the distant past.
4: well-preserved grain, but the lid is enchanted. Any non-elf who touches it takes 2d4 points of electrical damage.
5: full of yellow mold!
6: full of grain that has fermented. Anyone drinking the thick brew will enjoy a one-hour boost of any random stat to 18, but will also behave as if under the effects of a confusion spell, to be rerolled every 15 minutes.
15 )Armoury: the door to this room will be adamantium, will require 300 points of damage before it can be battered in, with a superior lock. If it remains unopened (1-in-8 if this part of the complex has been inhabited or looted) it will contain carefully preserved weapons of bronze (2d12 swords, spears, and daggers, plus 2d12 long bows and 2d100 arrows), 1d6 suits of elf-sized chain mail, 1d6 elf-sized bronze helmets, plus uniforms. There’s a 1-in-20 chance of their being 1d4 orichalcum swords (treat as silvered for purposes of harming lycanthropes and others that require special, non-magical weapons to harm them) and 1d6 rowan shields (can be “shattered” to prevent one spell that specifically targets the wielder). There’s a 1-in-100 chance of there being an elvish cloak among the uniforms.
16-17) Killing Ground: this room has arrow-loops on both sides and murder holes above. If humanoids have come to inhabit this place, they’ve almost certainly set up guards here to attack intruders. If the alarm has been raised, they’ll probably have boiling oil set to dump through the murder holes.
18) Pleasure Dome: hemispherical room piled with pillows of silk and fur that have been enchanted to resist the effects of time. If this part of the dungeon hasn’t been plundered before, it’ll hold 2d4 x 100 gp worth of furnishings, crystal, drugs, and jewelry lost under the pillows. There’s also a 1-in-4 chance that the room also contains flowering plants whose perfume induces altered states of consciousness. For every turn the PCs remain in this room (searching, etc.) they should all roll a save vs. poison. Each who fail will be stoned for 2d6 turns (-2 to all dice rolls, inhibitions removed, and may become completely obsessed with some simple feature of the dungeon) after which they will sleep for 1d6 hours. When they awake, they will be ravenously hungry and will need to eat an entire day’s worth of rations or continue to suffer a -1 to all dice rolls.
19) Library: walls are lined with niches and shelves for scrolls and books. If this room hasn’t been looted, there’s a 25% chance the books have been ensorcelled to prevent decay. In this case, every turn they spend searching the shelves has a 1-in-20 chance of turning up a spell book containing 2-6 random 1st level spells, 1-3 random 2nd level spells, and 0 to 2 (1d4 -2) random 3rd level spells. Books will be (roll a d6) written in (1-3) Low Fey, (4-5) High Fey, or more rarely (6) some other, random language. Typical subjects (roll another d6) are (1-2) magic or alchemical theory, (3) history, (4) erotic poetry (1-in-4 will include pornographic images), (5) using Earth elementals in construction, and (6) military theory.
20) Vault: will also have an adamantium door that will resist up to 350 points of damage before falling. Inside will be sacks containing 300-600 (1d4 + 2) silver pieces and 100-400 gold pieces. If the current residents have the keys to this vault, also add in whatever additional wealth in coins and jewelry is appropriate for them.
21) Magical Lab: the floor will be inset with an orichalcum symbol used for summoning or containing magical effects. Magic spells will not cross into or out of the symbol. There’s a 1-in-20 chance that the symbol holds (roll a d6) a (1-2) red slaad, (3) blue slaad, (4) invisible green slaad, (5) earth elemental, (6) invisible air elemental. Any object physically crossing the symbol will break it and free whatever it imprisons.
22 )Alchemical Lab: The walls are lined with counters topped with marble or lead. If this part of the complex has not been looted, it will still contain 1d3 x 1,000 gp worth of alchemical equipment (though most will be delicate glassware that won’t survive usual dungeon delving; every combat will destroy 10d10 gp worth of any such equipment being carried by the PCs and their henchmen). There’s also a 1-in-6 chance that the room contains 1d4 random potions, plus 0-4 (1d6 -2) fertility potions potent enough to overcome whatever birth control a character might be using for up to a week’s time, while also healing 2d12 points of damage when drunk and curing any non-magical disease.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Slaves: Interactions with the PCs
Telecanter has been wondering about slaves over at his Receding Rules blog:
Things get even stranger if you look at slavery as practiced by Muslims. In an attempt to build something like a modern standing army, the Abbasid caliphs bought slaves which they trained to be soldiers. The Ottoman Turks repeated this experiment about five centuries later. In both cases, the mamluk and Janissaries respectively became ways for those born in low social status to rise to great importance, wealth, and power through the seemingly backwards method of being “reduced” to slaves. The mamluks even became sultans, ruling such important territories at Egypt (where they stemmed the tide of the Mongol invasions) and the Janissaries found themselves in a position to dictate terms to their sultans, even to the point of extortion and palace coups.
That’s all a bit more advanced than my players will typically encounter in my current Doom & Tea Parties campaign. Outside of captives of the humanoid monsters, the most likely slaves for the PCs to encounter will be debtor and criminal slaves. On at least two occasions, such slaves have been purchased by the PCs to serve as henchmen on adventures. Their loyalty is commanded by magic (but it does have its limits) and generally if all you want is someone to hold a torch or spear, these folks are your best bet. A few successful adventures, however, will generally allow most to buy their freedom, assuming they’re allowed even a modest share of the treasure (the fines they are working to pay off rarely amount to more than a handful hundred pieces of gold).
Most of my players have been happy to take such cultural quirks in stride, assuming that their characters are from the same, or similar, backgrounds. On occasion, I’ve had players decide that their characters hated slavery (usually because they’d experienced it in the past, either personally or through a family member) and would work to subvert the system. But they always recognized that this was something that wouldn’t be accomplished overnight, and considered the task a long-term guerilla campaign, something akin to Joel Rosenberg’s “The Guardians of the Flame” series.
Art by Christian Meyer Ross and Georg Moritz Ebers.
Did players purchase and own slaves? Did they want to free all the slaves and get frustrated when they realized how impossible that would working against a whole culture? Or maybe that became the point of the campaign?Slavery has been pretty common in my campaigns since I got out of college, as I’ve drifted towards a more Ancient World feel. As Migellito points out, slavery in the ancient world is often not what modern folks expect:
Slaves in Rome could own property and save up money to buy their own freedom, and many entered into it as a method of absolving debt.
That’s all a bit more advanced than my players will typically encounter in my current Doom & Tea Parties campaign. Outside of captives of the humanoid monsters, the most likely slaves for the PCs to encounter will be debtor and criminal slaves. On at least two occasions, such slaves have been purchased by the PCs to serve as henchmen on adventures. Their loyalty is commanded by magic (but it does have its limits) and generally if all you want is someone to hold a torch or spear, these folks are your best bet. A few successful adventures, however, will generally allow most to buy their freedom, assuming they’re allowed even a modest share of the treasure (the fines they are working to pay off rarely amount to more than a handful hundred pieces of gold).
Most of my players have been happy to take such cultural quirks in stride, assuming that their characters are from the same, or similar, backgrounds. On occasion, I’ve had players decide that their characters hated slavery (usually because they’d experienced it in the past, either personally or through a family member) and would work to subvert the system. But they always recognized that this was something that wouldn’t be accomplished overnight, and considered the task a long-term guerilla campaign, something akin to Joel Rosenberg’s “The Guardians of the Flame” series.
Art by Christian Meyer Ross and Georg Moritz Ebers.
Tuesday, March 01, 2011
Metals of Doom & Tea Parties
LEAD: Lead is a popular building material, especially in the borders of the Second Lizardfolk Empire. It’s used for plumbing, fittings and reinforcement, water-proofing, roofing, weights, ballast, kitchenware, and even as tablets for important legal inscriptions. (In baroque legal system of the lizardfolk, “Lead Laws” are those generally passed by an assembly, and are amendable by fiat of the Empress and her consorts, while “Golden Laws” kept on gold tablets are said to endure for all time.)
Lead is also a popular metal for use in magical labs, as it’s extremely inert. Some alchemical formula require certain ingredients to only be touched by lead, and so a completely stocked lab will include such oddments as lead knives. Lead will also stop magical scrying or attempts to pass through barriers, and so is used to secure rooms against such.
Lead bullets are stored in massive armories throughout the empire, and disbursed to peasant levies (largely human) as the sling is one of the few weapons not forbidden to “lesser races” inside the empire.
BRONZE: While iron is the preferred metal these days, bronze remains popular, in spite of generally being more expensive to produce (being an alloy of copper and tin) and not as strong. This is partly due to there being an existing infrastructure based around the metal. Also, due to the associations of iron with the Necromancer and the Coming of the Ice, the Second Lizarfolk Empire has been slow to adopt the newer metal.
Bronze is associated with the heyday of the Elven Empire and the Third War Against the Monsters. Elves say they taught the science to dwarves, and that the nagpa stole it from them. The monsters insist it was first invented by nagpa sorcerers, and that a sly and wicked elf stole the secret. When Tiamat attempted to find and kill the thief, the gods and titans became terrified of the destruction She unleashed, and joined forces to imprison Her in the Red Moon.
IRON: Iron is growing in popularity in the Human Kingdoms, and in some places has completely replaced bronze. Bronze weapons and implements, however, are still cheap and readily available, mostly as surplus from the shrinking Second Lizardfolk Empire.
The dwarves first learned the secrets of forging iron. It didn’t become a common metal outside dwarven strongholds until the Necromancer taught it to his human allies. The gods now favor the metal and promote its use wherever their influence extends.
ORICHALCUM: Red orichalcum is among the oldest alloys. Its use in magical implements, jewelry, and weapons is older than even the First Lizardfolk Empire.
Orichalcum’s claim to fame is how well it takes and holds magic. While orichalcum will, in fact corrode into a brownish powder, enchantments that prevent this are easy to cast and last a long time. While bronze is associated with the height of the Elven Empire, orichalcum is associated with the heroes of its beginnings. For a brief while, the Elven Empire stamped an orichalcum coin, generally worth about 3 times the equivalent weight of gold.
While not every orichalcum weapon or piece of jewelry is enchanted, most items that are enchanted have orichalcum in them. The Red Moon that imprisons Tiamat is popularly assumed to be orichalcum.
ADAMANTIUM: Also called by some “titan’s metal.” It is extremely rare. It requires magic to work it and is impervious to nearly anything. It does not corrode, resists the actions of all mundane acids and bases, and tends to exhibit exceptional hardness and temper characteristics in weapons and tools. However, it’s almost always too heavy for mortals to weild, hence the reference to its use by titans.
Typically, adamantium is an architectural metal. When you absolutely, positively don’t want it to ever corrode, warp, or stress, you use adamantium. It’s also, like lead, proof against most scryings or magical attempts pass through the metal, though unlike lead it can’t be defeated by simple, mundane heating. A vault sealed with an adamantium door is a great find for adventurers; while they probably can’t transport the door back to civilization as part of the loot, chances are good that whatever the door guards is still there for the taking, if only they can get past it.
The Second Lizardfolk Empire uses ingots of adamantium as a store for wealth. These heavy disks, marked with an official seal verifying weight and purity, are said to each be equivalent in worth to 6,000 gold pieces.
Standard adamantium has a golden, oily sheen to it. It does come in other colors, however. White adamantium is more conducive to enchantment, but can, under extreme stress, suddenly dissolve into a fine powder. Green adamantium is rumored to hold natural venoms if it’s soaked in them for a month, which it will then slowly sweat over the next century, making it popular in locks or vaults. Blue adamantium is considered to have special stabilizing properties and is popular in fortresses and palaces in the Lizardfolk Empire. Black adamantium has a purplish sheen to it, and will take enchantments like white without the risk of it dissolving, but has a sinister reputation.
Photos by vintagedept and bjortklingd.
Lead is also a popular metal for use in magical labs, as it’s extremely inert. Some alchemical formula require certain ingredients to only be touched by lead, and so a completely stocked lab will include such oddments as lead knives. Lead will also stop magical scrying or attempts to pass through barriers, and so is used to secure rooms against such.
Lead bullets are stored in massive armories throughout the empire, and disbursed to peasant levies (largely human) as the sling is one of the few weapons not forbidden to “lesser races” inside the empire.
Bronze is associated with the heyday of the Elven Empire and the Third War Against the Monsters. Elves say they taught the science to dwarves, and that the nagpa stole it from them. The monsters insist it was first invented by nagpa sorcerers, and that a sly and wicked elf stole the secret. When Tiamat attempted to find and kill the thief, the gods and titans became terrified of the destruction She unleashed, and joined forces to imprison Her in the Red Moon.
IRON: Iron is growing in popularity in the Human Kingdoms, and in some places has completely replaced bronze. Bronze weapons and implements, however, are still cheap and readily available, mostly as surplus from the shrinking Second Lizardfolk Empire.
ORICHALCUM: Red orichalcum is among the oldest alloys. Its use in magical implements, jewelry, and weapons is older than even the First Lizardfolk Empire.
Orichalcum’s claim to fame is how well it takes and holds magic. While orichalcum will, in fact corrode into a brownish powder, enchantments that prevent this are easy to cast and last a long time. While bronze is associated with the height of the Elven Empire, orichalcum is associated with the heroes of its beginnings. For a brief while, the Elven Empire stamped an orichalcum coin, generally worth about 3 times the equivalent weight of gold.
While not every orichalcum weapon or piece of jewelry is enchanted, most items that are enchanted have orichalcum in them. The Red Moon that imprisons Tiamat is popularly assumed to be orichalcum.
ADAMANTIUM: Also called by some “titan’s metal.” It is extremely rare. It requires magic to work it and is impervious to nearly anything. It does not corrode, resists the actions of all mundane acids and bases, and tends to exhibit exceptional hardness and temper characteristics in weapons and tools. However, it’s almost always too heavy for mortals to weild, hence the reference to its use by titans.
Typically, adamantium is an architectural metal. When you absolutely, positively don’t want it to ever corrode, warp, or stress, you use adamantium. It’s also, like lead, proof against most scryings or magical attempts pass through the metal, though unlike lead it can’t be defeated by simple, mundane heating. A vault sealed with an adamantium door is a great find for adventurers; while they probably can’t transport the door back to civilization as part of the loot, chances are good that whatever the door guards is still there for the taking, if only they can get past it.
The Second Lizardfolk Empire uses ingots of adamantium as a store for wealth. These heavy disks, marked with an official seal verifying weight and purity, are said to each be equivalent in worth to 6,000 gold pieces.
Standard adamantium has a golden, oily sheen to it. It does come in other colors, however. White adamantium is more conducive to enchantment, but can, under extreme stress, suddenly dissolve into a fine powder. Green adamantium is rumored to hold natural venoms if it’s soaked in them for a month, which it will then slowly sweat over the next century, making it popular in locks or vaults. Blue adamantium is considered to have special stabilizing properties and is popular in fortresses and palaces in the Lizardfolk Empire. Black adamantium has a purplish sheen to it, and will take enchantments like white without the risk of it dissolving, but has a sinister reputation.
Photos by vintagedept and bjortklingd.
Friday, February 18, 2011
A Bloodthirsty Sword
I just handed one of these out in my Doom & Tea Parties campaign, so I figured it’s time to put it up here.
The bloodthirsty swords are rumored to be 27 bronze scimitars fashioned by a coven of rakshasa mothers for their eldest children, sons and daughters, to wield in battle as they carved their paths with pain and death in the world. They tend to sport bone or wire-wrapped grips and bear odd, stripe-like striations along the dull edge of the blade, or down at the forte, just above the hilt.
The blades are not sentient, but wielders report that possess a certain animal intelligence. They whine or vibrate unhappily when chopping into undead, or other bloodless enemies, but sing and strike true when used against living creatures. Against non-living foes, they are +1 blades that do the usual damage. Against the living, they are far more potent.
In addition to conveying a +2 bonus to the attacks of their wielder, a true strike can be utterly devastating to the foe as the blade drinks greedily of their blood. For damage, roll two dice: a d20 and a d4. Divide the result of the d20 by the number that come up on the d4 (rounding up to 1 when necessary).
If the blade goes longer than a week without being used against a living creature in combat, it will begin to hunger. Anytime an attack roll results in a 1 there is a 50% chance the blade will twist in the hand of its wielder and bite into a living ally (no additional roll is needed; just go straight to the damage roll). The blade can be sated for a time with domesticated animals (pigs, goats, geese, etc) but will eventually tire of such mawkish fare. After a month of such a diet, the sword will do its best to be stolen (attracting the attention of thieves and murderers) or lost so that it can find its way into the hands of a more adventuresome warrior.
The bloodthirsty swords are rumored to be 27 bronze scimitars fashioned by a coven of rakshasa mothers for their eldest children, sons and daughters, to wield in battle as they carved their paths with pain and death in the world. They tend to sport bone or wire-wrapped grips and bear odd, stripe-like striations along the dull edge of the blade, or down at the forte, just above the hilt.
The blades are not sentient, but wielders report that possess a certain animal intelligence. They whine or vibrate unhappily when chopping into undead, or other bloodless enemies, but sing and strike true when used against living creatures. Against non-living foes, they are +1 blades that do the usual damage. Against the living, they are far more potent.
In addition to conveying a +2 bonus to the attacks of their wielder, a true strike can be utterly devastating to the foe as the blade drinks greedily of their blood. For damage, roll two dice: a d20 and a d4. Divide the result of the d20 by the number that come up on the d4 (rounding up to 1 when necessary).
If the blade goes longer than a week without being used against a living creature in combat, it will begin to hunger. Anytime an attack roll results in a 1 there is a 50% chance the blade will twist in the hand of its wielder and bite into a living ally (no additional roll is needed; just go straight to the damage roll). The blade can be sated for a time with domesticated animals (pigs, goats, geese, etc) but will eventually tire of such mawkish fare. After a month of such a diet, the sword will do its best to be stolen (attracting the attention of thieves and murderers) or lost so that it can find its way into the hands of a more adventuresome warrior.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
The Long Game
Grognardia's recent post about gamer ADD reminded me that my experience is far outside the norm. Since college (1990 for those of you playing along at home) nearly all my games have been multiyear epics. I've played in a handful of short games and one-shots, but pretty much everything I've run has been long-term. The Doom & Tea Parties game has bifurcated into two sorta kinda parallel games running in the same campaign, and they've both been running on a weekly basis for nearly 18 months. (Oddysey reports we’ve had roughly 85 sessions of the older game.) And neither shows any signs of ending anytime soon.
So how does this happen? Part of it, I think, is simply expectations; I assume my games will last for years and therefore they do. Of course no plan survives contact with the enemy, er, I mean players. Luckily, my players seem very amenable to the idea of long-running campaigns. It's likely there’s some self-selection going on there. Still, I think there are some things I do which encourage long-running game.
Verisimilitude: my highest good. Which means I'm probably overstating its importance, but one of the keys to a long-running campaign is predictability. The players need to know that certain things won't change, or at least won't change without a good reason. This allows the players to invest emotionally in the world in their characters. Once they've done that, you've got them!
Flexibility: and now that I've said that, I'm going to contradict myself. The truth is, everything does become boring after a while. Things need to be shaken up every now and kept fresh, and players need surprises. There is a sweet spot between chaos and stagnation. I think the key to hitting that sweet spot is being just consistent enough to preserve the verisimilitude and not too much more than that. And this leads to all sorts of things. Such as...
Rules-lite: yes, I'm fairly certain you can run a long-term campaign with a rules-heavy game. I'm just not sure I can do it. Part of the problem with rules heavy games is that they constrain your flexibility. For instance, one of the things that I have frequently seen in long-term campaigns is that characters change over time. Granted, most advancement mechanics assume that the characters will change, and some even give the players options to define that change. But the more they do this, the more they also constrain how characters change. Games like GURPS can be the worst offenders, as they turn personality into mechanics. Changing the character’s personality over time and in response to events in the characters lives is one of the primary ways players in a long-running campaign keep things fresh for themselves. The naïve innocent who grows in sadness and wisdom, the rogue who reforms, the paragon who falls, and the lover (win, lose or draw) all transform slowly over time. The players can enjoy these transformations while leaving themselves open both to changes in the game and alterations to the vectors the PCs’ personalities seem to be moving in.
Rules-lite games also make it easier for more profound transformations that actually do have mechanical effects. Changing your character's race or class in 3E can be a nightmare, especially for a mid- or high-level character. Changing your character's race and class in Labyrinth Lord is a piece of cake; even a high-level character can generally be transformed in half-an-hour or less of fiddling with the character sheet. The less the rules get in your way, the more options you have to keep the game flexible.
Character-driven: I've been talking about characters a lot, and there's a reason for that. At the end of the day, the players are there because of their characters. No matter how amazing or wondrous your campaign setting is, it's the chance to play their characters that brings the players back week after week. It's vital to keep this in mind. Campaigns about your setting or about your wicked plots or masterful villains simply won't last. Players just are not that into it. This means you need to keep things at a very human level. Whether your campaign features the clash of empires, confrontations between gods, or the destruction of entire worlds, you really need to focus on what this means to the players’ characters and their immediate social circle.
Flexible characters in a player-centered campaign creates a feedback loop. The PCs interact with the setting, the setting responds and interacts with the PCs, and both are transformed. These transformations necessitate more interactions, which slowly, over time, keep things constantly moving. It's hard to get bored in this type of game so long as your players are interested in their characters and you are interested in the campaign. So long as the players remain flexible about their character concepts and you're flexible about your campaign concept, this sort of play constantly and consistently creates surprises for everybody.
Follow your bliss: because you need to be having fun to. My original concept for the Doom & Tea Parties game was a Labyrinth Lord version of Birthright. Since I first started playing RPGs, I've always been fascinated with the idea of Arthurian style campaigns. But the truth is, my heart was really more into Swords and Sorcery. Shortly after I posted my gnome class on this blog, I switched gears, embraced my inner Robert Howard, and created the outline for the campaign as it exists now. I'm very happy I did this because I doubt the Birthright version would have lasted. I simply wasn't that interested in it, as much fun as it would've been.
Know yourself, know your interests, and don't shy away.
Be demanding: especially about the schedule. You're going to put a hell of a lot of work into this, and devote a hell of a lot of time to it. There is absolutely no reason why you should not expect the same of your players. If you treat it seriously, and if you demand that it be treated seriously, you will get players who treat it seriously. For instance, the Doom & Tea Parties games run weekly. Yes, both of them. There are weeks when we skip the game, but those are the exception and not the rule.
Keep on top of the paperwork. Expect your players do the same. Some will and some won't, and they’ll be the ones who don't have the 50 feet of rope when they find themselves at the bottom of a 40 foot pit.
And that, I think, is really the bulk of it. Really, when you get down to it, everyone having fun is the most important part. So long as people are having fun they will keep coming back to play. And that is the heart of longevity.
So how does this happen? Part of it, I think, is simply expectations; I assume my games will last for years and therefore they do. Of course no plan survives contact with the enemy, er, I mean players. Luckily, my players seem very amenable to the idea of long-running campaigns. It's likely there’s some self-selection going on there. Still, I think there are some things I do which encourage long-running game.
Verisimilitude: my highest good. Which means I'm probably overstating its importance, but one of the keys to a long-running campaign is predictability. The players need to know that certain things won't change, or at least won't change without a good reason. This allows the players to invest emotionally in the world in their characters. Once they've done that, you've got them!
Flexibility: and now that I've said that, I'm going to contradict myself. The truth is, everything does become boring after a while. Things need to be shaken up every now and kept fresh, and players need surprises. There is a sweet spot between chaos and stagnation. I think the key to hitting that sweet spot is being just consistent enough to preserve the verisimilitude and not too much more than that. And this leads to all sorts of things. Such as...
Rules-lite: yes, I'm fairly certain you can run a long-term campaign with a rules-heavy game. I'm just not sure I can do it. Part of the problem with rules heavy games is that they constrain your flexibility. For instance, one of the things that I have frequently seen in long-term campaigns is that characters change over time. Granted, most advancement mechanics assume that the characters will change, and some even give the players options to define that change. But the more they do this, the more they also constrain how characters change. Games like GURPS can be the worst offenders, as they turn personality into mechanics. Changing the character’s personality over time and in response to events in the characters lives is one of the primary ways players in a long-running campaign keep things fresh for themselves. The naïve innocent who grows in sadness and wisdom, the rogue who reforms, the paragon who falls, and the lover (win, lose or draw) all transform slowly over time. The players can enjoy these transformations while leaving themselves open both to changes in the game and alterations to the vectors the PCs’ personalities seem to be moving in.
Rules-lite games also make it easier for more profound transformations that actually do have mechanical effects. Changing your character's race or class in 3E can be a nightmare, especially for a mid- or high-level character. Changing your character's race and class in Labyrinth Lord is a piece of cake; even a high-level character can generally be transformed in half-an-hour or less of fiddling with the character sheet. The less the rules get in your way, the more options you have to keep the game flexible.
Character-driven: I've been talking about characters a lot, and there's a reason for that. At the end of the day, the players are there because of their characters. No matter how amazing or wondrous your campaign setting is, it's the chance to play their characters that brings the players back week after week. It's vital to keep this in mind. Campaigns about your setting or about your wicked plots or masterful villains simply won't last. Players just are not that into it. This means you need to keep things at a very human level. Whether your campaign features the clash of empires, confrontations between gods, or the destruction of entire worlds, you really need to focus on what this means to the players’ characters and their immediate social circle.
Flexible characters in a player-centered campaign creates a feedback loop. The PCs interact with the setting, the setting responds and interacts with the PCs, and both are transformed. These transformations necessitate more interactions, which slowly, over time, keep things constantly moving. It's hard to get bored in this type of game so long as your players are interested in their characters and you are interested in the campaign. So long as the players remain flexible about their character concepts and you're flexible about your campaign concept, this sort of play constantly and consistently creates surprises for everybody.
Follow your bliss: because you need to be having fun to. My original concept for the Doom & Tea Parties game was a Labyrinth Lord version of Birthright. Since I first started playing RPGs, I've always been fascinated with the idea of Arthurian style campaigns. But the truth is, my heart was really more into Swords and Sorcery. Shortly after I posted my gnome class on this blog, I switched gears, embraced my inner Robert Howard, and created the outline for the campaign as it exists now. I'm very happy I did this because I doubt the Birthright version would have lasted. I simply wasn't that interested in it, as much fun as it would've been.
Know yourself, know your interests, and don't shy away.
Be demanding: especially about the schedule. You're going to put a hell of a lot of work into this, and devote a hell of a lot of time to it. There is absolutely no reason why you should not expect the same of your players. If you treat it seriously, and if you demand that it be treated seriously, you will get players who treat it seriously. For instance, the Doom & Tea Parties games run weekly. Yes, both of them. There are weeks when we skip the game, but those are the exception and not the rule.
Keep on top of the paperwork. Expect your players do the same. Some will and some won't, and they’ll be the ones who don't have the 50 feet of rope when they find themselves at the bottom of a 40 foot pit.
And that, I think, is really the bulk of it. Really, when you get down to it, everyone having fun is the most important part. So long as people are having fun they will keep coming back to play. And that is the heart of longevity.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Cry Havoc, Trollsmyth-style
I’m going to take advantage of OdRook’s question to post a quick overview of my combat rules. One-handed weapons do 1d6 damage. Two-handed weapons do 2d4 damage. Fighting with a weapon in each hand (or using a quarterstaff) does the best roll of two six-sided dice. So if you’re fighting with sword and hand-axe, you’d roll a pair of six-siders (say you rolled a 2 and a 5) and you’d do the damage indicated on the higher roll (in this case the 5). You still roll only a single d20 for to-hit, however.
I also use individual initiative, but don’t roll for it. Instead, it’s dictated by your choice of weapons:
WEAPON | DAMAGE | INITIATIVE | NOTES |
Bastard sword | 1d6 | 9 | 2d4 when wielded two-handed |
2d4 | 8 | ||
Club | 1d6 | 2 | |
Dagger | 1d6 | 4 | |
Hand axe | 1d6 | 3 | |
Lance | 1d6 | 9 | Double damage on charge. |
Mace | 1d6 | 6 | |
Pole arm | 2d4 | 8 | |
Short sword | 1d6 | 7 | |
Spear | 1d6 | 10 | Double damage when set to receive charge |
Staff | Highest of 2d6 | 7 | |
Sword | 1d6 | 8 | |
Torch | 1d6 | 1 | + 1d4 burning damage |
Two-handed sword | 2d4 | 7 | |
War hammer | 1d6 | 5 |
This is where things get a bit complicated. Highest number goes first, and you do add your DEX modifier to the number. This makes spear-and-shield a pretty good combination, with high initiative and the additional protection of a splinterable shield. And you’ll want to wear a helmet as well, just in case you end up rolling on the Table of Death & Dismemberment.
That’s the how and here are the whys: 1d6/2d4 damage is quick and easy. Players remember which die they need to roll. It also means that magic-users don’t need to be limited to daggers so much; I even allow them to use quarterstaves, but still no shields, two-handed weapons (other than the staff) or weapon in each hand. (Granted, that still leaves things open for magic-users getting their hands on magic swords. I’m less worried about that, honestly, since they’re extremely rare in my games.)
The Table of Death & Dismemberment means heroes are less likely to die without sacrificing much in the way of tension, makes helmets important, and serves as something of a critical-hits table. In spite of the example I give, I do not allow the CON bonus to affect rolls on this table. It just wasn’t necessary. I think in a year of play we’ve rolled six times on this table, with one death, two lost hands, and the rest were stunned-for-one-round. My players are crafty and sly, and try to avoid “fair” fights whenever possible, for which I heartily commend them.
Art by Eugene Delacroix and Constantin Hansen.
Wednesday, April 07, 2010
Freedom!
Life, however, doesn't always cooperate. As players explore the sandbox, and the players and DM together fill in the blanks, roadblocks begin to appear before the players. Mostly these are social. Sometimes they are physical, like mountains, oceans, or other impassable or nearly impassable terrain. Specifically right now, however, I’m talking about social constraints. As the players rescue prisoners, fence the loot, and complete little jobs or big jobs for the Powers That Be, they began to entangle themselves in the social network of the setting. As they acquire power the Powers That Be will take notice of them and may in fact act to entangle them in the social network of the setting. This only makes sense after all, since they want the PCs, especially as they grow in power, to be on their side.
However it happens, the PCs will find that certain actions come at a cost. Allies become important, enemies seek to block their actions, and the PCs more and more have to weigh their own goals against the social costs of their actions. Do note, however, that the players are not forced to take actions or follow a plot. There is still leeway in their still choices. However, unlike at the beginning of sandbox campaign where the players can do pretty much anything and there are no real consequences for them, now their choices begin to cost them. The operative word here is "cost." They still can choose to do the socially expensive thing if that is their wish. Freedom is still there. It's just that now there are consequences for the things that they do, consequences they understand and, if everyone's been working together to build the setting and to tie the PCs into the setting, consequences which they understand and which are meaningful to them.
This, in my opinion, is when a campaign really starts to sing. At this point the world is real to the players. The players know where their characters fit into the world, and how the world interacts with the characters. The DM's job becomes a lot easier as well. Finding motivation for the players is nearly no longer an issue. The players will create their own motivations based on that social network. They want their friends and allies to be stronger and safer. They want to thwart the goals of their enemies. In fact, the primary job of the DM at this point is to keep the ball rolling so that the players are always scrambling to keep up with their own plots, their own goals, and missions that they create themselves.
Which works best for you and your group, of course, really depends on you what you’re after. I myself love this kind of play, and as I said, really think campaigns take off at this point. Other people see it as distraction, or disruptive, especially since it means certain players may start to dominate the game, leaving the rest to twiddle their thumbs while the more socially aware and interested converse about the NPC’s families or recent gossip or things like that. If you're going to allow this sort of thing to happen in your campaign, or even to encourage it, all the players need to be on board or at least be willing to tolerate the sort of interactions with NPCs that may take time away from dungeon-delving, monster-murdering, and loot-gathering.
Art by Giulio Rosati and Konstantin Makovsky.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Personality, Hirelings, and Meat Shields
Daddy Grognard has a great little article about hirelings, mentors, meatshields, and Marry Sues. Luckily, my ego is tied up more in the game than any particular characters, so I’m fairly good at avoiding the pitfalls he brings ups. I also roll up my NPCs and let the PCs pick from a small list of the available hires. Here’s a list of sorcerers recently looking for work in Pitsh, as I sent it to my players in email:- Keshnal of Druusis – A tall, emaciated guy with long, greasy hair and bloodshot eyes. His clothing consists of a tattered robe he wears open and pair of linen pantaloons. His reputation is one of brilliance, and he has a history of really coming through when the chips are down, but his opium addiction and sarcastic attitude make him erratic and difficult to live with. He wants 50 gp up front, and a half-share of the treasure.
- Norbis Lal – He'll proudly tell everyone and anyone he's the second son of the third wife of the Warlord of Korba, one of the strongest human city-states not in alliance with the gods. The bookies give his claims only a 30% chance of being true. He's short (5'4”), pudgy, with a round face and warm, expressive eyes. His robes are of fine but sturdy linen and his sandals are simple, but he wears a fancy-looking ring on every finger. He's a competent sorcerer, if not inspired, and he reads and writes both normal and High Fey. He wants 65 up front, a half share of the treasure, and the first wand, staff, or book of spells you find.
- Meshna – Is young for a sorceress, with long, black hair, and haunted green eyes. She wears surprisingly long, black robes that would seem sensible back in a dwarven community, but are too heavy for Pitsh. Still, she doesn't sweat. Her eyes move constantly, flicking between the exits as she answers your questions in short, to-the-point phrases. She has a reputation for being weird, even for a sorceress, and vicious in a fight. She wants 60 gp up front, a quarter share of the treasure, and dibs on anything you can find that creates illusions or turns people invisible.
- Koreat Pashnal – Koreat is in her mid-thirties, and so the oldest of those suggested to you. She's practical, smart, and has a reputation for staying cool and collected no matter how crazy things get. She has ginger-colored hair that she wears pulled into a bun, a smattering of freckles across her face, and an expressive mouth. She wears a linen kilt and halter-top, buskins, and a broad straw hat. She speaks and reads common Fey, Nagpa, orcish, and makes a point of telling you, in a voice just a hint over a whisper, that she's had “experience dealing with efreet before.” She wants 70 gp up front, a half-share of the treasure, and dibs on the first spellbook or magic staff you find.
I don’t share the stats with the players, and they can sometimes learn more about these characters by asking around. And these are characters, with personalities and interests beyond just being a pocket-full of neat tricks for the PCs to whip out when needed. They don’t often get forgotten in the middle of the dungeon. “Oh yeah, isn’t Koreat with us?” I can usually whip folks like this up off the top of my head pretty quickly, but there are tables in the back of the 1e DMG that make rolling up personalities a snap. (True story: my 8th grade English teacher had photocopied the tables and handed them out in class as tools to help with creative writing assignments.)
So the players get a basic reputation, how much they’ll charge, and a brief list of pros-versus-cons in hiring each potential person. This puts the ball in their court; do they want the slightly unstable but more experienced sorcerer? Or someone who’s a bit more boring but more dependable? Or do they want to pay for both quality and reliability?
Luckily, these sorts of decisions are usually set up near the end of a game, so I have time to whip these descriptions up and email them to everyone, and they have a few days to chew on it before making a decision and buying equipment for them.
Art by Ludovico Marchetti and John William Waterhouse.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
The Devil is in the Details: Slaves of Shkeen
Mr. Maliszewski has thrown down the gauntlet:
And he shares with us his table for the elves of Dwimmermount.
In the port city of Pitsh, there are two sources for henchmen and hirelings considered the most sure: the pubs and taverns of the freebooting treasure-hunters on the southern end of the town and the slave market at the Temple of Shkeen.
Justice at the hands of the priests of Aratshi is rather Aristotelian; gaols are only used to hold prisoners until the time of their trial, and sentences are nearly always in the form of fines and weregild. Those who cannot pay are handed over to the Shkeenites. By use of magic, mind-bending drugs, and disturbing sciences, the will of the convict is bent to the service of society. The slave is marked with a magical tattoo which records the slave’s remaining debt to be paid (which includes the costs of feeding and “training” the slave before sale). Slaves are supposed to be given opportunities to earn the coin they need to purchase their freedom, though how many actually manage this is a matter of much conjecture.
While slaves are nearly always more expensive to purchase than henchmen are to hire, their owners enjoy bonuses to the slave’s moral and loyalty.
Many slaves for sale in the temple market (roll 1d20 three times):
Some slaves for sale in the temple market (roll 1d16 once):
While most slaves are sold stark-naked, they may possess the following (1d16, 1d3 times):
Art by John William Waterhouse.
John Laviolette, over at The Nine and Thirty Kingdoms, has even suggested that the old school renaissance would be wise to offer up more examples of tables and systems in this style in order to better demonstrate the old school approach to character generation and background. I think he's absolutely right about that and I'd like to suggest that, in the coming days, my fellow bloggers and forum-ites share their own "The Devil's in the Details" tables.
And he shares with us his table for the elves of Dwimmermount.
In the port city of Pitsh, there are two sources for henchmen and hirelings considered the most sure: the pubs and taverns of the freebooting treasure-hunters on the southern end of the town and the slave market at the Temple of Shkeen.
Justice at the hands of the priests of Aratshi is rather Aristotelian; gaols are only used to hold prisoners until the time of their trial, and sentences are nearly always in the form of fines and weregild. Those who cannot pay are handed over to the Shkeenites. By use of magic, mind-bending drugs, and disturbing sciences, the will of the convict is bent to the service of society. The slave is marked with a magical tattoo which records the slave’s remaining debt to be paid (which includes the costs of feeding and “training” the slave before sale). Slaves are supposed to be given opportunities to earn the coin they need to purchase their freedom, though how many actually manage this is a matter of much conjecture.While slaves are nearly always more expensive to purchase than henchmen are to hire, their owners enjoy bonuses to the slave’s moral and loyalty.
Many slaves for sale in the temple market (roll 1d20 three times):
- Are trained in local etiquette.
- Are trained in the culinary arts.
- Are trained in the erotic arts.
- Are conditioned to never cause harm to a priest of Shkeen.
- Have a pathological fear of all clerics.
- Still have contacts in the local underworld.
- Still have friends in the local community.
- Suffer from recurring nightmares.
- Have friends or family who were also sentenced to enslavement.
- Can recognize certain poisons by taste.
- Prefer to wear as little as weather and local custom will permit.
- Prefer to go barefoot so their toes can grip the earth.
- Have a budding artistic talent.
- Are preoccupied by how much they might be currently worth on the market, to the point of vanity.
- Are deeply concerned with their appearance and health.
- Are fastidious about their owner’s appearance and health.
- Are hesitant to use speak their owner’s name aloud.
- Pray every night before going to sleep.
- Are adept at catching catnaps whenever possible.
- Are exceptionally graceful and poised.
Some slaves for sale in the temple market (roll 1d16 once):
- Are conditioned to never lie to a priest of Shkeen.
- Still have contacts in the local Thieves’ Guild.
- Are recovering gambling addicts.
- Are recovering alcoholics.
- Are addicted to a psychedelic substance.
- Are addicted to sex.
- Know where the loot is buried.
- Know where the bodies are buried.
- Suffer from amnesia.
- Are literate.
- Have family or friends eager to see them freed.
- Have victims still eager for revenge.
- Is a dwarf (1-2 on 1d6) or half-orc (3-6 on 1d6).
- Is an elf (1-4 on a 1d6) or goblin (5-6 on 1d6).
- Have holes in their memories.
- Was taken as a spoil of war and thus their owner is not obligated to allow them to purchase their freedom.
While most slaves are sold stark-naked, they may possess the following (1d16, 1d3 times):
- An unusual tattoo.
- A significant birthmark.
- Nothing.
- More nothing.
- Even more nothing, and do not roll again, even if the d3 roll indicates otherwise.
- A set of orichalcum acupuncture needles.
- A jar of peppermint-scented massage oil.
- A small pouch of rock salt from home.
- A collar and leash of braided leather.
- Manacles for wrists and ankles.
- A hollow tooth.
- A tiny wooden statuette of a loved one.
- A prophetic vision.
- 1d3 gemstones worth 2-200 gps total value, still working their way through the slave’s guts.
- The answer to a riddle.
- A secret name.
Art by John William Waterhouse.
Sunday, February 07, 2010
Would You Say I Have a Plethora of Classes?
There’s been some neat discussion around and about over new character classes for various versions of D&D. In spite of my numerous additions to the field (My LL game currently includes six new classes: rogues, gnomes, pixies, nixies, half-ogres, and witches) I remain rather loyal to the notion that what most folks want to play can be a variation on the primary themes of the original character classes. So while I enjoy adding classes, and it is pretty easy, I try not to go crazy about it. And while I admit there’s a heavy dose of Rientsian “if it’s fun, wallow in it” in my choices, I do try to make certain that my classes fit at least one, if not both of the following criteria.FLUFF
If I’m going to create a new class, it has to fit my campaign setting. Sure, one of the joys of LL is how generic it is within the realms of fantasy, but I’m not making these for addition to the LL core book. These are for my game primarily, and I share them with you because I think they’re cool and some of you might get something good out of them. But my witch class, for instance, is built around concepts that are pretty specific to my campaign. Most folks don’t want to touch gender with a 10’ pole, and I can certainly understand that. It’s one of my favorite themes to play with, and so I have the witch class.
CRUNCH
Mostly, however, I’m trying to do things that the basic classes don’t touch. My gnomes exist to highlight the hireling rules. Witches bring in the 1e druid spells. Rogues let me do funky things with the to-hit tables and offer a magic-dabbler class. Half-ogres offer a powerful bruiser to the players and let me play with my weapon damage rules.
The odd ducks in the list are the pixie and nixie classes. The pixie was a request from a new player (who hasn’t been able to start yet, though the character is done, I think) while the need for a nixie class grew out of a transformation that happened in the game. Because both classes have interesting powers and challenges, I couldn’t simply use elves and say that was close enough, but the elf class was the model for both of them. That said, both fit my fluff and crunch criteria, the pixie being a tiny flier and the nixie having a handful of Aquaman’s abilities.
However, I don’t have a courtier class, or a raconteur calls because I don’t want the dice to do those sorts of things. That sort of thing is for playing out. Just like I don’t want any “social combat” rules, I really don’t want any classes predicated on that sort of thing, either.
Art by Howard Pyle.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Nixie Class
Following on the heels of my pixie class, here's a writeup for nixies as PCs. This one was actually done a while ago, after one of the PCs in Doom & Tea Parties got transformed by a chaos critter. She's going to be stuck as nixie for a while, but so far she doesn't have any serious complaints.
NIXIES
Nixies (and nox, as the males are called) are aquatic fey who dwell underground. They rarely adventure, but as the guardians of the pathways between Water and the other realms, some are called to journey far from their subterranean communities. They resemble elves, being slight and short (both sexes tend not to grow taller than 5.5') with pointed ears, and almond shaped eyes. However, they also have blueish tint to their skin and green hair.
The prime requisites for nixies are are Intelligence and Charisma. If an nixie has a score of 13 or greater in both Intelligence and Charisma, the character will gain a 5% bonus on earned experience points. If the nixies Intelligence is 13 or greater and her Charisma is is 16 or greater, she will earn a 10% bonus on earned experience.
RESTRICTIONS: Nixies use six-sided dice (d6) to determine their hit points. They may advance to a maximum of 10th level of experience. They may use any shields or weapons, but suffer a -1 to saving throws when wearing ferrous (iron or steel) armour. They may wear armour of other metals (such as bronze, orichalcum, or adamantium) without suffering this penalty. They cast magic user spells as well. They roll saving throws and fight as elves. A character must have an intelligence of 9 or greater to be a nixie.
SPECIAL ABILITIES: Nixies are able to see in low-light conditions as if it were early evening illumination. Nixies can speak with all aquatic creatures and may summon fish to perform simple tasks. They may cast a water breathing spell that lasts for one full day. A group of 10 nixies can cast a powerful charm spell on humanoid creatures. They perform underwater as if under the influence of free movement magics, being completely unhindered by the water around them.
Art by John William Waterhouse, because when it comes to nixies, nymphs, sirens, and sorceresses, he is the man.
NIXIES
Nixies (and nox, as the males are called) are aquatic fey who dwell underground. They rarely adventure, but as the guardians of the pathways between Water and the other realms, some are called to journey far from their subterranean communities. They resemble elves, being slight and short (both sexes tend not to grow taller than 5.5') with pointed ears, and almond shaped eyes. However, they also have blueish tint to their skin and green hair. The prime requisites for nixies are are Intelligence and Charisma. If an nixie has a score of 13 or greater in both Intelligence and Charisma, the character will gain a 5% bonus on earned experience points. If the nixies Intelligence is 13 or greater and her Charisma is is 16 or greater, she will earn a 10% bonus on earned experience.
RESTRICTIONS: Nixies use six-sided dice (d6) to determine their hit points. They may advance to a maximum of 10th level of experience. They may use any shields or weapons, but suffer a -1 to saving throws when wearing ferrous (iron or steel) armour. They may wear armour of other metals (such as bronze, orichalcum, or adamantium) without suffering this penalty. They cast magic user spells as well. They roll saving throws and fight as elves. A character must have an intelligence of 9 or greater to be a nixie.
SPECIAL ABILITIES: Nixies are able to see in low-light conditions as if it were early evening illumination. Nixies can speak with all aquatic creatures and may summon fish to perform simple tasks. They may cast a water breathing spell that lasts for one full day. A group of 10 nixies can cast a powerful charm spell on humanoid creatures. They perform underwater as if under the influence of free movement magics, being completely unhindered by the water around them.
Art by John William Waterhouse, because when it comes to nixies, nymphs, sirens, and sorceresses, he is the man.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Town and Country
Back on my post “Romance, Sex, and D&D: the College Years,” Ben asks:
I’m very glad he asked that, because it’s a topic that never would have occurred to me. I really don’t see a strong separation between the urban/social settings and the wilderness. The two wove into each other naturally.
An early adventure in the college game involved foiling a plot by wererats to infect the town guard of a large city with their brand of lycanthropy through the brothels favored by the guardsmen. The adventure started in the city, then moved into the wilderness roughly a day’s march from the city, where the leadership of the wererats had their secret hideout, then back to the city to root out the wererat infestation. So this was an example of having dungeon-esque elements inside an urban environment which were tied to a traditional dungeon out in the wilderness.
In the Doom & Tea Parties game, the action has primarily focused on the ruin-infested island of Dreng Bdan. The only outpost of civilization on the island (that the players know about, anyway) is the city of Pitsh, founded by the priests of Uban for the purpose of exploring the ruins and cataloguing their history as well as securing anything of significant power that might be found there. The governance, economy, and focus of the city is so heavily tied to the activity of dungeon-delving that what happens out in the wilderness has a strong effect on the town. In the solo game, that meant working closely with the Ubanites. In the group game, the players have been trying to hide their activities from the Ubanites. In both cases, these choices have had a strong impact on what the PCs do when in town: how they fence their loot, where they stay, where they shop, and who they go to for information on the things they have found and the places they’ve explored.
In both the college game and the Doom & Tea Parties games, the separation between wilderness and civilization has been fluid at best. Sometimes, the monsters chase the PCs back into the city and cause them trouble there. Sometimes the town does something that has a strong effect on which dungeons the PCs investigate, or how they go about it. This sort of fluid web of interconnections is the core of my style. I basically let the players do and go where they wish. I create adventures for them primarily by asking how what they’ve done has affected those with the reach and power to affect whatever place they end up next.
So how did you weave the plotlines between urban/social settings and the wilderness necessary for many dungeon encounters-- or did you keep your dungeon urban as well?
I’m very glad he asked that, because it’s a topic that never would have occurred to me. I really don’t see a strong separation between the urban/social settings and the wilderness. The two wove into each other naturally.
An early adventure in the college game involved foiling a plot by wererats to infect the town guard of a large city with their brand of lycanthropy through the brothels favored by the guardsmen. The adventure started in the city, then moved into the wilderness roughly a day’s march from the city, where the leadership of the wererats had their secret hideout, then back to the city to root out the wererat infestation. So this was an example of having dungeon-esque elements inside an urban environment which were tied to a traditional dungeon out in the wilderness.In the Doom & Tea Parties game, the action has primarily focused on the ruin-infested island of Dreng Bdan. The only outpost of civilization on the island (that the players know about, anyway) is the city of Pitsh, founded by the priests of Uban for the purpose of exploring the ruins and cataloguing their history as well as securing anything of significant power that might be found there. The governance, economy, and focus of the city is so heavily tied to the activity of dungeon-delving that what happens out in the wilderness has a strong effect on the town. In the solo game, that meant working closely with the Ubanites. In the group game, the players have been trying to hide their activities from the Ubanites. In both cases, these choices have had a strong impact on what the PCs do when in town: how they fence their loot, where they stay, where they shop, and who they go to for information on the things they have found and the places they’ve explored.
In both the college game and the Doom & Tea Parties games, the separation between wilderness and civilization has been fluid at best. Sometimes, the monsters chase the PCs back into the city and cause them trouble there. Sometimes the town does something that has a strong effect on which dungeons the PCs investigate, or how they go about it. This sort of fluid web of interconnections is the core of my style. I basically let the players do and go where they wish. I create adventures for them primarily by asking how what they’ve done has affected those with the reach and power to affect whatever place they end up next.
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